'Tis the Foible of your worser Poets to make
a Parade and Ostentation of that little Science they have; and to
throw it out in the most ambitious Colours. And whenever a Writer of
this Class shall attempt to copy these artful Concealments of our
Author, and shall either think them easy, or practised by a Writer
for his Ease, he will soon be convinced of his Mistake by the
Difficulty of reaching the Imitation of them.
Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraq; laboret,
Ausus idem:----
Another grand Touch of Nature in our Author, (not less difficult to
imitate, tho' more obvious to the Remark of a common Reader) is,
when he brings down at once any _Character_ from the Ferment
and Height of Passion, makes him correct himself for the unruly
Disposition, and fall into Reflexions of a sober and moral Tenour.
An exquisite fine Instance of this Kind occurs in _Lear_, where that
old King, hasty and intemperate in his Passions, coming to his Son
and Daughter _Cornwall_, is told by the Earl of _Gloucester_ that
they are not to be spoken with: and thereupon throws himself into a
Rage, supposing the Excuse of Sickness and Weariness in them to be a
purpos'd Contempt: _Gloucester_ begs him to think of the fiery and
unremoveable Quality of the Duke: and This, which was design'd to
qualify his Passion, serves to exaggerate the Transports of it.
As the Conduct of Prince _Henry_ in the first Instance, the secret
and mental Reflexions in the Case of _Prospero_, and the instant
Detour of _Lear_ from the Violence of Rage to a Temper of Reasoning,
do so much Honour to that surprizing Knowledge of human Nature,
which is certainly our Author's Masterpiece, I thought, they could
not be set in too good a Light.
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