The Ancient and Modern Stages surveyed. OR, Mr COLLIER's View OF THE Immorality and Profaneness OF THE English Stage Set in a TRUE LIGHT.  
Wherein some of Mr Collier's Mistakes are rectified, and the comparative Morality of the English Stage is asserted upon the Parallel.  
Road Caper Vitem, tamen hinc cum stabis ad Aram,  
In tua quod fundi Cornua possit, erit.  Ou. 
LONDON, Printed for Abel Roper, at the Black Boy over against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleetstreet. 1699.   

TO THE Right Honourable CHARLES Earl of Dorset, and Middlesex, Baron Buckhurst, one of the Lords of His Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council, Lord Lieutenant of the County of Sussex, and Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, etc.  
My Lord,  
IN addressing to Your Lordship, though I betray my Ambition, I shall strengthen the opinion of my Integrity. For by appealing to so great, and so impartial a Judge, I give the World sufficient demonstration, that I trust more to the Merit of my Cause, than of my Performance, and depend rather upon the matter, than the manner of what I deliver, for my Justification.  
The Tide of Prejudice runs high for my Adversary, and the less discerning part of the Town are so prepossessed with the Specious Title, and the Plausible Pretence of Mr Collier's Book, that they think the whole Interest of Virtue and Religion embarked on that Bottom. Immorality and Profaneness are things so justly abhorred, that whoever enters the Lists against 'em, has all Good Men for his Seconds. And their zeal for the Cause so far blinds many of 'em, that they neither see, nor suspect any Defect or Treachery in their Champion. For men are very unwilling to hear Truth, against Prejudice, and suffer Reason to triumph over Inclination.  
The Town is divided in its Judgement of the Piece, and the whole Contest lies betwixt those that are Judges, and those that are not, as Cardinal Richlieu said upon another occasion. The latter are of the Opposite Faction, and are as much more numerous than the former; as Vanity and Presumption are more Universal, than Understanding.  
This makes the Prefixing your Lordship's name, by your own Permission, whose Judgement is as little to be biased, as 'tis to be questioned, not only matter of Honour to me, but of necessary Defence. Not that I expect any Protection for those Errors which I may have committed. They must be left to the mercy of Readers of far less Judgement and Candour, than Your Honour. To be tried by such a Grand Jury, is a happiness I am so far from expecting, that I know it impossible. But the Deference due to so great a Name may procure me a fair hearing amongst some, upon whom a bare regard to Justice would hardly prevail so far.  
Did Mr Collier contend only for the better Establishment of Virtue, and Reformation of Manners, I should be ashamed to appear against him. But there is a Snake in the Grass. Mr Collier undertakes the Patronage of Virtue, as Cunning Men do the Guardianship of rich Orphans, only to make his Markets of it. That this is his case, the following Sheets will, I hope, sufficiently demonstrate. His Vehemence gives us just ground to suspect his Integrity, and to believe that he has some concealed Interest, or Pique at the bottom. The disinterested enquiry after Truth is always accompanied with Candour; where that is wanting, there is just reason to suspect some further design. In Mr Collier's management, the Heat and Smoke are too great and apparent for the Fire to be long concealed. His Design is manifestly not to argue the Poets out of their Faults, but to bully his Readers out of their Understandings, and by violence to alter the Impressions already received of those matters▪ which he treats of. His Style is adapted to his purpose, fierce and bold, full of vehement exaggerations, and haughty menaces, he racks Sentences, and tortures Expressions, to extort a Confession from 'em of things to which they are absolute Strangers. The consequence of this way of writing is, that Women, and Weak Men, whose Fears are stronger than their Judgements, will be awed into a Persuasion before they are convinced of the Truth of it. For such People in most cases measure the certainty of Assertions by the Confidence of him that pronounces 'em, and the Importance by the false weight that is laid upon 'em.  
'Twas this consideration, not any extraordinary Affection for the Stage, that engaged me in this Argument. I look upon it as an attempt towards usurping the Sovereignty of Men's Understandings, and restoring the Tyranny of Bigotry, whose Yoke we have scarce yet sufficiently shaken off. My Reason is the dearest, and freest part of me, or at least it ought to be so, and he that puts the Dice upon that, affronts me in the most sensible manner. I had rather be bubbled of my Money than my Intellects, and should choose rather to be thought his Cully, than his Fool. 'Tis true, these tricks are not to be put upon a man that is aware of 'em, and consequently I might have secured myself without making a public discovery. But I think it a Cowardly piece of Caution, a sort of Criminal Misprision to connive at the cheating of others; and while I am able to inform 'em, the Clamour of Knaves or Fools shall never awe me to Silence.  
That this is no extravagant Surmise, no Hypochondriacal Fancy, is evident from the Tenor of the whole Book, especially the third Chapter. Every thing is delivered with an air so haughty, so magisterial, so decisive, that he seems rather to serve us with an Injunction to believe him, than an Argument. That this Imposition may be the more tamely submitted to, he palms the Authority of the Church upon us, and pretends her Commission to make Fools of the Laity.  
The Church is by no means obliged to him, for endeavouring to cast the Odium of his own Arrogance and Ambition upon her. How great soever his Zeal for her service may be, his Indiscretion in it does not come a whit behind it. For to extend the Power and Authority of the Priest, he curtails the Articles of the Church, and denies the King's Supremacy, which she has already obliged him to swear to the belief of.  
I shall not trespass so far upon Your Honour's patience, as to recapitulate the several Invidious things, which he fathers upon the Church. I will hope well of his Design, though I fear the effects of his Performance will not turn to her Service. And I could wish his Motives were better, or not so apparent. If Demetrius was a Stickler for the honour of Diana, 'twas because he made Shrines for her, the interest of his trade engaged him in her Party. Mr Collier's Case is not much different. The Poets had sometimes made bold to display a vicious, or a foolish Priest, and those that were Knaves in the World, and Drolls in the Pulpit, had been made Cheats and Buffoons upon the Stage. The Mask of Formality and Sanctity was pulled off, and the Blockhead and the Hypocrite shown barefaced. Thus the Profane Vulgar were suffered to peep, and pry into Mysteries. This Mr Collier resents as if he were personally concerned, and would persuade the world, that to expose Hypocrisy is to affront the Church, than which her Enemies could not have suggested any thing more malicious. However, this mistaken Injury has raised a Flame, which will cost the effusion of abundance of Ink before it is extinguished. Manet alta Mente repostum, and is never to be forgiven while Mr Collier can wag a Goose-quill.  
Our Clergy deservedly have both at home and abroad the reputation of the most learned Clergy in the World, and I shall venture to affirm, that they are the Best in the World. Their Candour towards those that differ from 'em in Opinion, their Modesty in asserting their own, and their sober Conduct in the discharge of their own Consciences, and not assuming the dominion of those of other men, will prove what I say to to be no Paradox. And therefore Mr Collier, in making so large a demand in their names, has obliquely traduced 'em, by giving occasion to those that don't sufficiently know 'em, to suspect that he acts by their Approbation and Authority.  
But I forget, that while I talk to Your Lordship, I wrong the Public, which claims so great a share in your thoughts and time. I shall not attempt the Character of Your Lordship: For, to write of you, as I ought, to do you Justice, I must write like you, which I hope I shall never have the vanity to pretend to. But the Name of My Lord Dorset alone carries more Panegyric than the fruitfullest Invention can furnish. Those Adventurous Gentlemen, that have already tried their Strength at it, have by their foils taught me caution. Their Performances fall so extremely short of the Merit of their Subject, that when they have exhausted their Fancies, their whole stock of Rhetoric looks like an Ostentation of Beggary. This consideration alone is sufficient to deter me from presuming further upon Your Lordship's Goodness, except to ask Pardon for my Ambition of taking this Public Occasion to declare with what profound Respect I am  
My Lord, Your Honour's Most humble and devoted Servant.   

THE TABLE.  

INtroduction. p. 1  
The quarrel to the Modern Stage first formally commenced in Spain. 5  
Shows among the Heathens of Religious parentage. 6  
The Drama of the same extraction. 7  
Tragedy and Comedy originally one thing 8  
When first distinguished. 9  
The Stage under the patronage of Bacchus. ibid.  
Paganism a Religion contrived for popularity. 10  
Heathen Religion all Ceremony. 12  
Idolatry of the Stage, the principal argument of the Fathers against it. 13  
Heathen Plays dangerous temptations to the new Christian Converts. 17  
Zeal of the Fathers against them not unnecessary. 18  
Disingenuity of Mr Collier. 20  
Idolatry the main Objection of the Fathers to the ancient Drama. 21  
Mimi c Shows among the Romans scandalously lewd, the Drama not at all. 23  
Clemens Alexandrinus falsely cited against the Drama. 24  
The Fathers sometimes over rigorous. 25  
The authority of the Father's short of the Case. 33  
Caution of Mr C— TWO— r. ibid.  
Plato's authority considered. 34  
Xenophon ' s. 35  
Aristotle ' s. 36  
Plays forbidden to young People upon the score of the temptations from the company. 36  
Licentiousness not defended. 39  
Mr Collier's Character of Terence and Plautus. 40  
This Character insidious. 41  
His Citations patched up of incohe rend fragments. 42  
The invention of the Roman Comic Poets barren. 43  
Poetic Justice neglected by them. 44  
Livie's authority abused. ibid.  
The Luxury and expensiveness of these Shows, not their immorality condemned by Livy. 46  
Valerius Maximus misquoted. 47  
Falseness and absurdity of Mr Collier's Paraphrase. 48  
His Conclusion not to be found in Valerius 49  
Stage allowed at Marseilles. 50  
Seneca's Authority nothing to the purpose ibid.  
Yet perverted 52  
Tacitus, etc. impertinently cited. 54  
Ovid and Mr Wycherley say nothing against the Stage, but the Audience. 55  
Too great severity of no service to Morality. 56  
Mr Collier's licentious method of misquoting unsufferable. 57  
The Athenians the greatest Friends in the World to the Stage. 58  
The Law against Judges making of Comedies a direct Argument against Mr Collier. 59  
The old Comedy of the Greeks exceeding licentious. 60  
Comedy, why no proper Exercise for a Judge. 61  
Opinion of the Spartans'. 62  
Theft tolerated at Lacedaemon. 63  
Character of the Spartans'. 64  
Plutarch's Authority falsified by Mr Collier. 65  
Politeness the Objection of the Spartans' to the Drama. 66  
All sorts of Plays not prohibited at Lacedaemon. ibid.  
Morality not the reason of rejecting the Stage. 67  
Adultery tolerated at Lacedaemon. ibid.  
Livy's Authority considered. 69  
Ancient Romans an unrefined people. 70  
Acting of Plays first left off by the Roman youth, because of the difficulty. 71  
Histriones, who so called ibid.  
Conjectural Reasons why Players were noted with infamy. 73  
Two first most probable. 75  
Drama at first necessitated to use the Actors of the Ludi Scenici. 76  
The Actors of Tragedy and Comedy therefore only called Histriones. ibid.  
The Praetorian Edict against them. 77  
Labeos exposition shows the intent of that Edict. 78  
Mr Collier's Disingenuity in this point. ibid.  
The Roman Censure extended only to the Mercenary Actors as such. 79  
Scipio and Laelius Writers to the Stage, or assisting to it. 80  
Julius and Augustus Caesar and Seneca did the same. 81  
Law of the Theodosian Code considered. 83  
Meaning of the Theodosian Law. 84  
Parallel instance 85  
Authority from the Councils already answered. 87  
Quarrel to the Stage unjust. 88  
Ancient Stage infinitely more scandalous and lewd than the Modern. 89  
Stage dancing, as now practised, inoffensive to Modesty. 90  
Mr Collier's notion of the extravagant power of Music ridiculous. 91  
Power of Music owing to contingent circumstances. 94  
Influence of sounds indeterminate. 95  
Mr Collier a Platonist. 97  
Not acqnainted with the subject he treats of. 98  
His charge rash. 99  
Comparative Morality of the Vocal Music of the ancient and modern Stages. 100  
Ancient Vocal music. 101  
Chorus, its Office 102  
Their Mimi. 103  
Mr▪ Collier's Objections from the Topic of Love a Declamatory Rant. 105  
Mere Frenzy. 106  
Revenge not encouraged by the Stage. 108  
Instance in the Mourning Bride. ibid.  
Passion not proper in Comedy. 109  
Love, Jealouly, etc. how to be used in Comedy. 111  
Exposition of an Observation of Horace. 112  
Horace's instance from Terence examined. 113  
Tragedy, what in the judgement of Aristotle. 114  
Duelling and Rencounters against the nature and Laws of Comedy. 115  
Duel in Love in a Tub against the rules of Comedy. 116  
Comic Poet obliged to draw according to nature. 117  
No breach of Morality without offending against the Laws of the Stage. 118  
Mr Collier right in his end of Stage Poetry. 120  
Mistaken in his method of prosecuting that end. ibid.  
Morals of a Play wherein shown. 121  
Folly and Knavery the subjects of Comedy 122  
Mr Colller's Character of the Ancient Poets invidious. 124  
Fable the principal part of a Play. 125  
Fable of the Oedipus of Sophocles. 126  
Piety of Oedipus. 129  
Oedipus' s Proclamation. 130  
Moral of the Fable defective. 131  
Moral of the English Oedipus the same. 132  
Merely Speculative. ibid.  
Not very natural. 133  
Moral of Seneca. 137  
Seneca the Philosopher supposed the Author. ibid.  
His Moral neglected by the Author of the English Oedipus. ibid.  
Sum of Seneca's Moral 140  
Oedipus' justification of himself. 141  
Harmony of the Greek, Roman, and English Authors. 142  
Levity of Fortune not the occasion of the fall of Oedipus. 143  
Opposition of Providence. ibid.  
Presumption of Laius. 144  
Another Moral. ibid.  
Presumption of Oedipus. 145  
Oedipus in Sophocles and the rest of the Tragedians, a Predestinarian. ibid.  
French Moral. 146  
Necromancy and all sorts of Divination allowed by the Heathens. ibid.  
Conjecture of the Reasons that induced the Authors of the English Oedipus to prefer the Greek Moral to the Latin. 147  
Seneca's Moral not proper for the English Stage. 148  
Greek and Roman Moral unserviceable to virtue. 149  
Oedipus, why so minutely examined. 150  
Fable of Ajax Flagellifer. ibid.  
The Moral somewhat obscure; two may be guessed at. 152  
The First not arising naturally from the action. 153  
The Second Moral not very natural. 154  
Fable of the Electra. 155  
The Moral of it. 156  
Fable of Antigone. ibid.  
The Moral of it. 157  
Oedipus Coloneus. ibid.  
The Fable of it. 159.  
No Moral. ibid.  
Trachiniae, its Fable. ibid.  
Moral of Sophocles. 160  
Philoctetes, the Fable 161  
No Moral. 162  
Speech of Hercules not pertinent to the Action. ibid.  
Character of the Plays of Euripides in general. 164  
Fable of the Orestes. 165  
The Characters all vicious. 167  
Not of a piece all through. ibid.  
The Moral of it. 168  
The Medea, etc. of Euripides. 170  
Fable of the Hippolytus. ibid.  
jon usurped by Mr Dacier, a Moral Tragedy. 172  
Fable of jon precedent to the Action. 173  
Fable commencing with the Action. ibid.  
Main condition of Moral Tragedy neglected in this. 174  
Creusa's a wicked Character. 175  
Ion's Character indifferent. ibid.  
Of no service to Morality. 177  
Hercules Furens compared with the Trachiniae of Sophocles. ibid.  
Character of Aeschylus. 178  
His Prometheus immoral. 180  
Jupiter abused by the Poet under the Persons of Power and Force. ibid.  
The abuse backed by▪ Vulcan. 181.  
Deficiency of the Greek Tragedy. 182  
Tragedy at Rome borrowed from the Greeks. ibid.  
Seneca the Philosopher, supposed the Author of some of those Plays that go under his name. 184  
Seneca unjustly aspersed by Mr Collier. ibid.  
Seneca careless of Poetic Justice. 186  
Ajax Oileus an improper instance of it. 187  
Seneca limited by Precedent. ibid.  
Hippolytus of Seneca examined. 188  
More artificial than the Hippolytus of Euripides. 189  
The rest close Copies from the Greek. 190  
Octavia ill-contrived and insipid. ibid.  
General Reflections on the ancient Tragedy. 191  
Aristotle's division of Tragedy. 192  
Moral Plays not much encouraged at Athens. ibid.  
Alcestis of Euripides a Moral Tragedy. 193  
Ancients careless of the general Moral of the Plays. 164  
Consequence of Mr Collier's loose way of writing. ibid.  
Turned upon the Ancients. 196  
Socrates by this means condemned. 198  
Aeschylus arraigned by Mr Collier's Precedent. ibid.  
And Sophocles. 199  
Extravagance of this way of declaiming. 200  
Shakespeare prefixed to all the rest of the English Dramatics. 201  
Censure of Hamlet unjust. 202  
Fable of Hamlet before the commencement of the Action. ibid.  
Fable after the Action commences. 203  
Poetic Justice exactly observed in this Play. 204  
Moral of Hamlet. 205  
Tragedies of this Author generally Moral. 206  
The Orphan. 207  
The Moral good. ibid.  
Mr Collier's Zeal for the Pagan Priesthood in jurious to Christian Ministry. 208  
Don Sebastian a religious Play. 210  
Reasons of Mr Collier's quarrel to the Cleomenes. 211  
Moral wanting to the Cleomenes. 212  
Moral inference. 213  
The Poet too faithful to the History. ibid.  
Mourning Bride. 214  
Fable very just and regular. 215  
Moral excellent. 216  
Advantages of the Moderns over the Ancients in the Morals of their Fables. 218  
Providence not employed to promote villainy. ibid.  
Nor to oppress Virtue. ibid.  
Nor to protect Malefactors. ibid.  
Modern Poets more religious than the Ancients. 219  
The Fable of the Poet's disposal, Characters and Expressions not so.  
The Fable, if any, the Evidence of the Poet's Opinion. 220  
Mr Collier's a false and perverse measure. 221  
The Fable the Engine of the greatest and most secret Execution upon the Audience. 222  
Not abused to any ill end by our Poets. 223  
Apology for the Ancients. 224  
Moral Plays not esteemed at Athens. 225  
Moral and Pathetic reconciled, and united by the Moderns. ibid.  
Poetic Justice neglected by the Ancients in general 226  
Monsieur Dacier's exception to Monsieur Corneille answered. 228  
Poetical Justice a modern Invention. 229  
The Modern Stage on this account preferable to the Antient. 230  
Fable of Comedy considered. 231  
In Comedy the action and persons low 232  
The correction of Folly the proper business of Comedy.  
Perfect virtue excluded the Comic Stage. 233  
Some infirmity required to qualify a Character for Comedy. 234  
No Gentlemen, but men of pleasure fit for Comedy. ibid.  
Comic Poetry, and Droll Painting compared. 235  
Such Characters real and common. 236  
Mr Collier's mistake concerning the nature of Comedy. 237  
Heads of Mr Collier's charge against English Comedy. 238  
His first Article examined. 240  
This Rule repugnant to the nature of Comedy▪ 241  
Reason why. ibid.  
Indulgence of Plautus and Terence to vicious young people misplaced by Mr. Collier. 242  
Plautus and Terence faithful Copyers from nature 243  
Opinion of Horace enquired into 244  
This not a bare character, but a rule. 245  
Sense of Horace in this place mistaken or prevented by Mr. Collier 246  
Parity of reasoning betwixt Mr. Prynn and Mr Collier 247  
Another outrage to Horace ibid.  
Use of a Chorus according to Horace 248  
Mr Collier's answer to an objection ibid.  
A reply to Mr Collier's answer. ibid.  
Chorus in old Comedy 251  
Double mistake of Mr Collier about the Plutus of Aristophanes. 252  
Tripartite Division of the Greek Comedy. 253  
By this the Plutus old Comedy. ibid.  
Fable of Old Comedy of what kind. 254  
Characters of Cratinus, Eupolis, and Aristophanes how differenced. 255  
New Comedy how differing from the Old. ibid.  
Plutus not new Comedy. 256  
Satire of the old Comedy particular of the general. 257  
Aristophanes the beginner of the middle Comedy. 258  
No Chorus in the Plutus. 259  
Office of the Chorus in Comedy. ibid.  
The parts Essential to a Chorus omitted in the Plutus. 260  
Inconclusive inference from Aristotle. 263  
Silence of Aristotle no argument in this case. ibid.  
Reason of Aristotle's silence in this point. 264  
His account of the Rise of the Drama. ibid.  
Progress of Comedy obscure. ibid.  
Brevity of Aristotle. 265.  
A particular Treatise of Comedy written by Aristotle, but lost. 266  
Chorus not used in the New Comedy. 267  
Chorus altogether improper for the Comic Stage in England. 268  
Used at Puppet Shows. ibid.  
Function assigned the Chorus by Mr Collier. 269  
Original error of Mr Collier. 270  
Loose Characters in Comedy no encouragement to Debauchery. ibid.  
Ridiculous fear of Mr Collier. 271  
Theatres wrongfully accused by him. 272  
Sense of Horace again perverted. 273  
Horace's advice Political, not Moral. 275  
Manners here signify'd Poetical not Moral. 277  
Mr Collier ' s description of Poetical Manners. ibid.  
Defective and Equivocal. 279  
Aristotle ' s description. 279  
Propriety of Manners required. 289  
Wherein it consists. 281  
Similitude of Manners what. ibid.  
Equality of Manners what. 283  
Faults of Characters what. 284  
Faults of Expression manifold. ibid.  
Some heads of Mr Collier's charge. 285  
Mistaken in his first point. 286  
Faults of particulars no reflection upon the Sex in general. 287  
Universals and Individuals improper Characters. 288  
What Characters proper. 289  
Two sorts of resemblances in Poetry. 290  
Quality no just reason for exemption. 291  
Mr Collier's Collection from the Ancients very loosely made. 292  
Objection to Ophelia. 293  
Character of Ophelia. ibid.  
Objection groundless and frivolous. 295  
Mad Song. 296  
Foolish but inoffensive. ibid.  
Ancients more faulty than this. 297  
Instance in the Antigone os Sophocles. ibid., etc.  
Instance in Electra of the same Author. 301  
Antigone in Sophocles not so nice. 304  
Cassandra not so nice as Mr Collier pretends. 305  
Extravagance of Cassandra. 306  
Indecency against Character. 307  
Misbehaviour of Hecuba. 310  
Love and tenderness used by the Moderns. Lust and Violence by the Ancients. 311  
Numerous instances of this kind to be found 〈◊〉 Euripides. 312  
Some referred to. ibid.  
Seneca examined upon this Article. 313  
Miscarriage of Phaedra. 314  
Modesty of Lycus considered. 318  
Reference to other instances. 319  
These faults less pardonable in Tragedy then in Comedy. 320  
Slaves the Top Characters of the Roman Comedy. 321  
Very little variety in their Plots. 322  
Greater Liberty taken by Aristophanes. 323  
Aristophanes whether an Atheist or not, nothing to the purpose. 324  
Mr Collier's Argument in defence of Socrates considered. 325  
Rigour of the Athenians to Socrates a sort of acquitment to Aristophanes. ibid.  
Mr Collier's instances no proof of his assertion. 327  
The Opinion of the Man not measured by the Expressions of the Poet at Athens. ibid.  
Liberties of Plautus greater than those of the English Stage. 328  
Instances from the Amphitryo. 329  
Remarkable circumstances of a passage in Amphitryo. 330  
The disguise under which Mercury appears no excuse for his misbebaviour. ibid.  
Jupiter not more modest. 331  
Instance from the Asinaria. ibid.  
Instance of singular Morality. 332  
Plautus' Lovers more active than talkative. ibid.  
Instanced from the Curculio. 333  
Comparative modesty of the Virgins of the Ancient Stage hence to be observed. 334  
Mr Collier's own exceptions taken notice of. ibid.  
His instances in Olympio grossly mistaken or misrepresented. ibid.  
Another instance from the Asinaria. 338  
Slaves not the only offenders of this kind in Plautus. 339  
Plautus' Prologues and Epilogues not always inoffensive. 340  
This proved from the Epilogue to the Casina. 341  
Epilogue to the Asinaria an encouragement to Lewdness. 342  
The Epilogue to the Captivi somewhat smutty. 343  
Complaint of the Abuse of the Clergy not well grounded. 344  
Their relation to the Deity considered. 346  
Personal representation of the Deity considered. 346  
The power of the Church not lodged with the Priest. 347  
Mission of St Paul and the Apostles what and how circumstantiated. 348  
Difference betwixt their Commission, and that of the present Ministry. 349  
Importance of their Office no exemption. 352  
Some faults not cognizable by the Ordinary. 353  
Priests not misrepresented, unless faultless. 355  
Mr Collier's plea from Prescription examined. 357  
Instance to the contrary from Sophocles. ibid.  
Euripides not more tender of Priests. 359  
Seneca meddles little with them. 360  
Euripides and Seneca full of profane expressions. 361  
Rude treatment of the Nobility a false Charge. 365    

ERRATA.  
PAge 28. l. 7. r. 'em off: p. 52. l. ult. add in: p. 68 l. 22. r. Mulciber: p. 73. l. 5. deal not: p. 74. l. 5. r. Infancy: p. 76. l. 11. r. of: p. 86. l. 8. r. for: p. 101. l. ult. r. possibly: p. 132. l. 5 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: p. 173. l. 25. r. proud: p. 190. l. 11. r. disengage: p. 235. l. 25. deal not: p. 255. l. 23. r. waving particular: p. 302. l. 2. r. shown. She was: p. 306. l. 17. r. push her: p. 306. l. 19 r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: ibid. l. 20. for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 p. 308 l. 2. r Indignation: 3p. 11. l. 7. r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: p. 313. l. 2. add made: p. 315. l. 18. for guge r. jugi: p. 339. l. 1. r. conspexeris: p. 341. l. 19 r. dare.  

Errata in the Margin.  
P. 23. for se de r. sed &: p. 29. for Verundia r. Verecundia. p. 57 for ictaeo r. dictoeo: p. 69. r. ac: for relicta r. relicto: for tribi r. tribu: p. 71. for victus r. victis: p. 113. for Dio r. Dii: p. 169. r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: p. 126. deal and: p. 192. deal The Moral: p. 226. r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 p. 317. r. Mr Collier's instances.    

Mr. COLLIER's View OF THE English Stage, etc. Set in a TRUE LIGHT.  
THe aim of all Writers is, 
Introduction.  or aught to be, to maintain or propagate Truth, to inform the Judgement, improve the Understanding, and rectify the Mistakes of others. Where this is the real end and design of a Writer, no Itch of Popularity, or Awe of Faction ought to bear him from his Bias, or make him give an inch to his Hopes, or Fears; and the more Universal and Important the Truths are, which he discovers, or defends, the greater in proportion ought to be the Zeal and Application.  
Were these rules constantly, and prudently pursued, we might hope for an honester, as well as wiser world, than it has been my fortune yet to find any Memoirs of, since the multiplication of Mankind. For though the Declaimers of all Ages have inveighed with great bitterness against their own times, and extolled the antecedent; yet even hence we are furnished with an argument, that all have been equally culpable, since those times, which we, to humble our own, affect so zealously to commend, our Forefathers did as vehemently condemn; and if we do not find the Topics of satire to be in every Age the same; we can only from thence conclude, that the Mode, and not the Measure of Iniquity is altered.  
But whether the rules be strictly observable, or not, may be matter of doubt. For, besides that grand Seducer Interest, which few withstand, Passion, Prejudice, and Inclination, have an almost irresistible Influence over us; and even in the coolest, and severest of our deliberations, we are apt to give too much to Prejudice, and to humour Appetite and Passion beyond Reason.  
That this is no uncommon case, most of the present Paper-Combats demonstrate, in which the War on both sides is carried on with an obstinacy and fury, very disproportionate to the trifles generally contended for. The Combatants enter the lists against Chimerical Giants of their own raising, and lay about 'em like Ajax, or Cervantes' Hero, amongst the Sheep, Giants, or Windmills, 'tis all one, if they stand in their way they must be encountered.  
The most formidable of these, is the Author of the Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage. This Gentleman, some time or other, between sleeping and waking, had happened to hear some of Mr Durfy's Rattles, and perhaps some saucy Jack or other of the Stage discharge an Oath or two, and presently mistaking 'em for a noise of Drums, and volley of Shot, falls to dreaming of Invasions and Revolutions, that the Church Artillery was seized, and turned upon it; of a terrible Stage Plot, and a huge Army in Ambuscade behind the Playhouse Scenes; and therefore he cries out to have the Beacons lighted, and the Bells rung backward in every Parish, to raise the Posse of Fathers, Councils, Synods, Schoolmen, and the rest of the Church Militia, and cast up Retrenchments, for the Vanguard of Parnassus are upon 'em. Then he calls for his Durindana of a Goose-quill, and thunders out anathemas as thick as Hail shot.  
Thus instructed and appointed, he draws out his forces, and charges with such violence and fury upon the Forlorn-Hope of the Stage, that it had been impossible for 'em to have sustained the shock, if Pegasus had not been trained of old to the service, and very well acquainted with the temper of the Enemy's Fire.  
This Anti-poetick War has been carried on with abundance of heat at divers times and in divers Countries; 
The quarrel to the modern Stage first formally commenced in Spain.  it broke out first in Spain, about the close of the last Century, under Mariana a Jesuit, who published a Book Contra Spectacula; and after that another, by the Special Approbation of the Visitor, and the Provincial of the Jesuits of the Province of Toledo; from thence it travelled into Italy, where it was fomented by Francisco Maria, a Sicilian Monk, and P. Ottonelli, a Jesuit; and was thence translated into England, about sixty years ago, by Dr Reynolds and Mr Prynne; to France, about thirty years ago, by the Prince of Conti, the Sieur de Voisin, etc. and tho buried for some years in its embers, broke out again there not many years ago into a flame; at which Mr Collier took fire, and revived the quarrel in England.  
All these disputes have been managed with great vehemence and fierceness on the Agressor's parts, and had the success been answerable to their Resolution, the scattered rout of Parnassus had been never able to have rallied, or made head again; but their Onset was like that of the Turks and Tartars, the Noise was much greater than the Execution. I could never find that the Muses were famous for Martial Exploits, or that their Votaries e'er signalised themselves by any extraordinary achievements in the polemics. How comes it then, that such impetuous Assailants have gained no more upon 'em? For as yet the very Outworks of Parnassus seem to be in no danger. Is it the natural strength of the Place, or Resolution of the Defendants that Protects 'em?  
Before I give a direct answer to these questions, it will be necessary to premise a short account of the occasion, state, and progress of the Controversy, in, and from the time of the Primitive Fathers down to our own Times; by which we may be enabled to make a right Judgement, how far the present Stage is affected by the Authorities, and Arguments urged from 'em.  
It is on all hands agreed, 
Shows among the Heathens of Religious Parentage.  that the Ludi and Spectacula of the Greeks and Romans, were a great part of the Solemn and Public Worship of their Gods, instituted on purpose to commemorate, or expiate some signal Benefit, 〈◊〉 Calamity, of which those Gods were the supposed Authors, or Instruments: These Plays or Shows were usually preceded by a Solemn Procession of the Gods to whom they were dedicated, and the Priests and Sacrificers in their Formalities, with the Victim in all its Religious Pomp, (much after the manner of the Solemn Processions in use amongst the Roman Catholics to this day) this was succeeded by Vows made, and Sacrifice performed upon the spot, whether it were Theatre, Circus, or any other place of public Shows, or Games. After all these were performed, or finished, the Play or Show was ordered to begin, which was also a principal part of the Religious Worship▪ and concluded the Solemnity of the day.  
The Dramatic Representations spring both from one Original, and were instituted for the same general end and purpose with the rest of the Heathen Games, 
The Drama of the same extraction.  that is, for Religious Worship. These (if I may be allowed to use the plural number, for that which in the Original, was but one thing) were invented in honour to Bacchus, and consisted of Songs in his praise, Music, and Dancing about a Sacrificed Goat, intermixed with rustic raillery, suitable to the Genius and Temper of the Boors, and Villagers, that were the performers. Tragedy and Comedy were not yet become Separate Provinces in Poetry, 
Tragedy & Comedy originally one thing.  but either name indifferently signified the same thing, the first being taken from the Sacrifice, which was a Goat, the other from the Performers, which were the Peasants, or Villagers, or from the nature of the Entertainment itself, which was composed of Rural Music, Songs, and Dances. By what steps and gradations the improvements were made, how the decorations of the Stage were introduced, and when the Drama first branched into Tragedy and Comedy, as distinct members, are pretty speculations, and afford an occasion, which one, that. like Mr. Collier, affected to show much reading to little purpose, would not let slip; but not being to my purpose, I shall not prosecute 'em any farther.  
'Tis probable the partition of Tragedy and Comedy was first made, 
When first distinguished  when the Poets, quitting the Dithyrambi, or Hymns to Bacchus, betook themselves to the representation of Stories or Fables of their own invention; the nature of the subjects then becoming different, according to the Poet's choice, the names were divided betwixt 'em Or perhaps, that part which we now in a restrained sense call Tragedy, being first refined and improved, and becoming the study and diversion of more Polite Men, the other continuing longer in the Possession of the Villagers, retained the name of Comedy for distinction sake, even after its utmost improvements.  
But when, 
The Stage under the Patronage of Bacchus.  or howsoever this was, though the Sacrifice of the Goat at Plays was left off, the Satyri in praise of Bacchus discontinued, and the Plays appointed indifferently in honour of any of the Gods, as occasion directed, that they were, as the Auditors rightly observed, Nihil ad Bacchum, yet the Stage remained sacred to and under the Protection of its old Patron, who had amongst the Romans his Altar on the Right hand of the Stage, and the particular God to whom the Play was for that time directed, on the Left. This was the Posture and Condition of the Stage in the time of the Fathers.  
This being the case, a Christian could not be present, or assist at these representations, without openly countenancing or conforming to the Idolatrous Worship of the Heathens; which the Fathers, as became careful and pious Pastors, were extremely solicitous to prevent. They were sensible of the difficulties they had to encounter, and the obstacles they had to surmount. The Christian Religion was yet but newly planted, and therefore till it had taken sufficient Root was carefully to be covered and defended from the injuries of rude Blasts, and the contagion of those rank superstitious Weeds that grew about it, by which the Root might be killed, or the Soil infected, and the Sap withdrawn.  
Paganism was a Religion, invented at first to oblige and captivate the people, 
Paganism a Religion contrived for popularity.  and gained its Credit and Authority among 'em by indulging their Sensuality, and even gratifying their Lusts; it was augmented by degrees, by ambitious, cunning men, who, to render themselves more popular, and gain an interest among the multitude, recommended to 'em, under the notion of Religion, what they found most acceptable to the humour and palate of the populace. By this means, the various Processions, Games, and Shows were introduced, and became the most formal part of their Solemnities, men being easily persuaded to like what was so conformable to their inclinations, that in the exercise and discharge of their Duties, their Senses were entertained, and their Appetites flattered.  
Against a Superstition thus framed for Luxury, and contrived to cajole the Senses, Christianity was to make its way, and to drive out those Rites, and destroy a Title founded upon the prescription of many ages, supported by the authority of the Civil Government, and fortified in its Possession by Prejudice, Inclination and Interest; and all this to be done with the assistance only of Truth, and Simplicity of Doctrine and Manners; the Pomp, and Magnificence of their Solemn Worship was absolutely to be taken away, and their licentious practices to be restrained, and reformed; and instead of 'em severe Principles, and an austere course of Life were to be established, in an Age, and amongst a People, whom the Submission and Tribute of all the World for some ages, had made wealthy, proud and wanton.  
It is not therefore to be wondered, if those early Champions of the Gospel proportioned their Zeal and Vigilance to the pressingness of the occasion, 
Heathen Religion all Ceremony.  and the strength of the opposition. The Games and Shows of the ancient Heathens were the parts of their Religion the most generally engaging, that attracted most, and kept the Multitude firmest to 'em. The rest of their Religion sat but loosely about 'em, they had no fixed, or necessary Faith, and their devotion consisted only in a frigid compliance with those Forms and Ceremonies, which were purely matters of Worship; their Zeal appeared for nothing so much as their Games and Shows. For as Varro 
* Pompa populo ingrata fuit, quia ludis mora. Var ro de Ling. Lat. Lib. 4.  and Seneca 
† Non igno ras quam sit odiosa Circensibus Pompa.  informs us, the preparatory Solemnities were ungrateful to the spectators, who impatiently expected the Show. The Fathers, who knew where their strength lay, have employed all their Artillery against these Shows, their Batteries have played incessantly upon 'em, as the only Forts that were capable of making resistance, and stopping their Progress.  
Tho the ancient Fathers bend their Rhetoric, 
Idolatry of the Stage, the principal argument of the Fathers against it.  with all its Force, and in all its Forms and Figures, against the Heathen Shows; though they declaimed with all their Nerves, and Vehemence, and displayed all their Arguments with the utmost strength of Colour and Proportion, yet there was nothing in which they so much confided, in which they so unanimously agreed, as the objection drawn from the Idolatrous institution and end of 'em. They were unwarrantable, because Idolatrous. It was (in their opinion) impossible for a Christian, how well principled, or disposed however, to partake of the Entertainment, without sharing the Pollution, or to abstract the Diversion from the Gild. They thought it dangerous to trust their Converts, however fortified, to the temptations of so jolly a Religion, which was so far from curbing the appetites, and laying any restraint upon the desires of its Proselytes, that many of its duties were but Pimps to their Lusts, and almost all its acts of Devotion but so many entertainments of their Senses. They knew the frailty of humane Nature right well, and were aware, that though Faith might in some be so strong as to triumph over all temptation, yet that Multitudes would fall before it, if they were permitted to run the risk.  
The portion of those that embraced Christianity was Mortification, and suffering, perpetual discouragement, and frequent Persecutions (till the time of Constantine) their Reward was in Reversion; their Expectation indeed was large, but the Prospect was distant. Now present Ease and Enjoyment are very apt to prevail against a remote Hope. In our common affairs of the world, Futurity maintains itself but ill against the Present, and neither the greatness, nor the certainty of the Reversion, make good head against immediate Possession.  
This was the case of Christianity in its Infancy. The Heathen Priesthood was contented with the Countenance and Encouragement of the State, and submitted to the directions and appointment of it, even in matters relating to their own Mysteries; they assumed no Dominion, or Jurisdiction over private Consciences, either in point of Principle or Practice; but left those matters wholly to the Civil Government, which made Laws for the regulation, and appointed Magistrates for the inspection of Men's Manners; in which regard was had chiefly, if not only, to the Public Quiet and Security, to the Preservation and Augmentation of the State. If a scrutiny was made into the Conduct and Behaviour of particular persons, 'twas as they were subordinate to the Public, and might be instrumental or prejudicial to the common welfare, either immediately, by their practices, in wronging the State, or those under the Protection of it; or by withdrawing themselves from, or incapacitating themselves for its service; or consequently by debauching, and corrupting others by their Examples. In all these matters the Priest had no concern; and therefore 'twas no wonder, if the People received so easily, and lived so contentedly under a Religion, which, though false, gave 'em so little disturbance, and so much satisfaction. For, as for the Multitude, their Theology was like their Worship, suited and adapted to their capacities, the one consisting of surprising Fables, the other of delightful Solemnities. Those that were wiser among 'em, and saw thro' their Mysteries, (who were not a few) were many of 'em Sacris initiati, and engaged in their support; the rest having no higher warrant than their own Reason, and nothing more certain to substitute in the room of 'em, were perhaps unwilling to unsettle matters, and paying a languid Complacence, suffered things to run on in the old Channel; whose Banks should they break down, they knew not what course the Stream would take, nor how far the Confusion might spread.  
But the Gospel had none of these advantages, it was not contrived and modelled for Popularity, it did not humour the Inclinations, and indulge the Appetites of the People. To the Purity of its Doctrine, a Conformity of Life, and Manners were required, the Passions were to be curbed, and the Desires moderated; instead of Pomp and Ceremony, Simplicity and Sobriety were to be their Entertainments: their rampant Gods, whose fabulous Histories gave countenance to Men's Lusts, and encouragement to their Debaucheries, were to be cashiered, and the knowledge and worship of the True One to be introduced, whose Majesty was as awful, as the other was represented frolicksome.  
These were the conditions of Conversion from Heathenism, and the change must needs appear disadvantageous to mere Flesh and Blood The Fathers therefore, who knew how hard it was to keep the Appetites in entire subjection, took care to fortify as strongly as possible those parts, in which they expected the Rebellion should first break out. 
Heathen Plays dangerous temptations 〈◊〉 new Christian Converts.  The Plays, of all the Heathen Solemnities, were those that gave the strongest temptation to the new Converts; they had so little of the Air of Religion, that they thought if they did not approve of the end and design of 'em, they might, without imputation, partake of the Diversion, in which they met with frequent. Examples of Innocence and Virtue. This alarmed the Fathers, who knew that the transition from one Religion to another (as Mr Collier observes) was natural; and justly apprehended, that from a liking of the Entertainments themselves, they might proceed to approve the occasion of 'em; that the seeming Innocence and Virtue of 'em might reconcile 'em to a Superstition which recommended those excellent Gifts after so easy and agreeable a manner, or that perhaps the delights of those places might soften the temper of their mind, and relax the nerves of their zeal, and so unqualify and indispose 'em for those Austerities, which the Posture and Circumstances of the Christian Religion at that time required.  
To obviate these dangers, they summoned all their Prudence, 
Zeal of the Fathers ●g●inst 'em not u●ne●es●ary.  and all their Art; they omitted no Topick which Rhetoric or satire could supply, to fright or persuade Men from those Diversions. Nor was all their Zeal and Caution any more than was necessary, the Danger was great, and so was the Temptation; the Fort was to be maintained not only against an Enemy without, but a strong Faction within; the Senses, Appetites, and Passions were already gained to the Enemy's Party, nothing remained but Religion and Reason, to make good the defence; those Generals therefore that would hold out, when the Garrison was inclined to Surrender, must not only display their Courage and Conduct, but exert their Authority likewise to the utmost This the Ancient Fathers did, whose examples have been followed by divers in our Age, though without the same Reason, Authority or Success.  
Having thus opened the Case, as it stood in the time of the Primitive Christians, we shall proceed to examine, Whether there be any manner of Analogy between the Roman Theatre (as to the particulars whereof they are arraigned by the Fathers) and ours? Whether the satire of the Fathers comes full upon the Modern Poets? 
View p. 276.  Whether the Parity of the Case makes their Reasons take place, and their Authority revive upon us?  
Thus backed, 
p. 277.  as he supposes by the Worthies of Christendom, the flower of Human Nature, and the Top of their Species, Mr Collier bids defiance to all the Stage Poets in general: He declares 'em to be gone over into another Interest, 
p. 1.  Deserters to the Devil, 
p. 124.  that aim to destroy Religion, 
Praef.  and whose business is an ana of Lewdness and Atheism. For he has a huge mind to try his strength with 'em, 
p. 257.  but he dares not enter the Theatres, they are the Devils own Ground; but he challenges 'em to a trial of skill at the laudable exercises of the Christian Olympics of moorfield's; which, if they be so hardy as to accept, he'll call a Ring, and for a broken Head, or Limb, he and his Fathers defy both North and West. 
Disingen●ir● of Mr. Collier.   
But hold, Mr Vinegar! have you any commission from the Fathers to give this Challenge in their Names? Does it appear, that they have any ground, or reason of quarrel to the present Stage? I believe not; but as things may be packed together, and translated, an able Interpreter may make 'em speak as he pleases. If they don't speak to his mind he knows how to correct 'em, 'tis but throwing in a word or two (as he phrases it) to clear the sense, to preserve the Spirit of the Original, 
Praef.  and keep the English upon its Legs. 'Tis well he has the knack of Scouring the Fathers, otherwise their Testimonies would look but rustily upon the present occasion. But he can wash as well as scour, and underprop a failing Evidence upon occasion. 'Tis pity Mr Collier was not bred to the Bar, this extraordinary quality had been of admirable service there, to help a bad Memory, and prompt a bashful Witness. The Fathers, good men, could say but little to the Cause, but Dexterity and Management may do much, and an able Solicitor (like Mr Collier) will make out notable proofs from very slender Evidence.  
The Fathers, as they had reason, 
Idolatry the main Objestions of the Fathers to the Ancient Drama.  prohibited Christians all resort to the Roman Games in general, and without distinction upon the account of the Idolatry there practised: But what's that to our Theatres, which have no such stain upon 'em? If the Heathen Gods appear upon our Stage, 'tis neither for their own, nor their Worshippers honour. Idolatry is as much abhorred, and more exposed there, than any where else. Why then is the satire revived upon it? Is there any danger that the Spectators should turn Idolaters, from our Representations? That which scandalised the Father's most in the Dramatic Representations of Antiquity was, that their Gods were represented lewd, and unjust, Adulterers, Pimps, etc.  

* Et haec suntscenico r●m ●●erabilior● 〈◊〉 do rum Comoediae scilicit & Tragoediae hoc est fabu lae Poetarum agendae in spectaculis, multa rerturpitudine sed nulla, saltem, sicut alia multa verborum obscoenitate compositae quas etiam inter studia quae honesta, & liberalia vocantur, pueri, legere discereque a senibus coguntur. De Civit. Dei lib. 2.  St Augustine absolves their Comedies and Tragedies from any fault in the expression, and accuses only the subject matter. The same Indictment he prefers against Homer, (viz.) that he corrupted men's Morals by drawing such vicious Pictures of his Deities. 
* Aug. Conf. lib. 1. cap. 16.  Terence falls under his displeasure likewise, for introducing his young Libertine animating himself to, and vindicating himself after a Rape, by the example of Jupiter, whose Intrigue with Danae, represented in a Picture, afforded him both matter of Encouragement and Excuse. Notwithstanding which objections, this 
* Didici in eyes multa verba utilia se det in rebus non vanis disci possunt & via tuta est, in qua Pueri ambularent. lib. Confess. 1 cap. tv.  Father confesses himself to have profited by the reading of 'em, though he thinks the same use might have been made of more pious Books, which are fitter for the use of Children. Thus by the acknowledgement of this Father the Plays were not so bad. as Mr Collier would infer from him. The quarrel of the rest of the Fathers to the Drama, was upon the same account, though Mr Surveyor has given a wrong prospect of it. I hope there's no reason to apprehend, that Jupiter or Mercury should be drawn into precedent at this time of day, or that any person of Quality should turn Whoremaster, or Pimp out of emulation.  
'Tis true, 
Mimic Shows among the Romans scandalous● lewd, the Drama no at all.  the Fathers frequently exclaim against the lewdness of the Roman Theatres, which Mr Collier all along endeavours, both by the turn and application, to discharge upon the Dramatic Representations, in which I admire his dexterity more than his ingenuity. For I can't suppose Mr Collier to be ignorant, that there were divers sorts of Ludi Scenici, which were all performed at the Theatre, of which several were scandalously lewd; but these he knows were no part of the Dramatic Entertainment.  
But he finds Comedy and Tragedy 
Clemen's Alex●ndri●us cited against the Drama.  sometimes condemned for company among the other Shows of the Theatre, and therefore he is resolved, out of his singular regard to Justice and Ingenuity, that whatsoever is pronounced against the Theatres in general, shall light upon the Drama in particular, which by the unanimous confession of 'em all was the least offensive, and consequently the least deserved it. 
View p. 260 Nec inconcine stadia & Theatra Pestilentiae C●thaedram quis vocaverit. Paedag. lib. 3. cap. two.  To what purpose else is Clemens Alexandrinus cited? He affirms, that the Circus and Theatre may not improperly be called the Chair of Pestilence. Whence does it appear, that the Dramatic Exercises are here aimed at? Were the Mimi, Pantomimi, and Archimimi, less concerned with the Stage, or more reserved and modest in their practices upon it? Were dancing naked, and expressing lewd Postures less criminal, or offensive to modesty? No, he won't say that; 
View p. 277.  although the comparison were made with the English Stage, which is, (according to him) much more licentious than the Roman, yet that by his own confession has nothing so bad. But supposing the Father to take his aim from Mr Collier's direction, and prophetically to have levelled at our times, what is the wondrous guilt, that provokes this severe Judgement? Noscitur ex socio, why 'tis even as bad as Horse-racing; a very lewd diversion truly. Woe be to you Inhabitants of New Market, that live in the very Seat of Infection.  
But the Fathers were men, 
The Fathers sametimes over rigorous  mere men, as well as Mr Collier, and subject as well as he to be misled by passion, and overacted by zeal, in the transports of which they were apt sometimes to extend their rigour too far, and would upon any terms have (as a certain Learned Recorder has it) enough for a decent Execution. 
Sic & Tragaedos Cothurnis extulit Diabolus, quia nemo potest adjicere cubitum unum ad staturam suam, men dacem face re vult Christum. Tert. de Spectac. cap. 23.  Thus Tertullian, none of the least considerable among the Fathers, either for his Learning or Zeal, in this case especially, though he had already convinced the Ancient Tragedy of Idolatry, a Crime sufficient in a Christian Court of Judicature to be capital, yet must needs ex abundanti bring a fresh Indictment of Blasphemy. The Devil, says he, mounted the Tragedians upon Buskins, because he would make our Saviour a Liar, who says, that no man can add a Cubit to his Stature. Look to it all ye Tiptoe Beau's.  
Here the Devil showed himself an Engineer, to lay a Trap so long before hand, to contrive and invent these Buskins only to falsify in appearance, what was said a thousand years after; and the Father himself was a very Matchiavel to detect, and counterplot him at last. I have read of a famous Scotch Divine, that signalised himself once upon occasion, by much such another discovery, when he found out, that at the dismission of all Creatures out of Noah's Ark, the reason why the Hawks were so merciful to the Doves, as to let 'em escape unhurt was, that the Prophecy of Isaiah, the Lamb should lie down with the Lion, might be fulfilled. This is the nearest parallel that occurs to me from all my reading, in which the Scotch Father comes pretty near t'other for a strange reach of apprehension, though 'tis his misfortune to fall short in the importance of the discovery.  
But to wave all further instances of this kind from the Fathers, which are to be found in great plenty among 'em, I leave 'em to be gathered by those that take more delight in such Flowers; and shall confine myself to those which Mr. Collier has picked out for a Nosegay for himself.  
To begin therefore with Theophilus Antiochenus; 
View. p 252.  He tells us, that the Christians durst not see the Prizes of the Gladiators, for fear of becoming accessary to the Murders there committed, nor their other Shows, upon the account of their Indency and Profaneness.  
Here Mr Collier, as an earnest of his future fair dealing uses the word Shows, and because perhaps 'tis the only instance to be met with through all his Quotations, he is resolved not to lose the benefit of it, and therefore for fear it should slip by unheeded, he gives it in a different character, and an asterism along with it, and claps in the Margin Spectacula. By this sample of his Fidelity to his Author, he thinks his performance warranted to his Readers, of whom he knows the greatest part can't nor the rest he hopes won't, be at the trouble to confront his Translation with the Text; and therefore before the end of this very Paragraph, he throws off all obligation to Truth and Justice and falls to managing and instructing his Evidence  

* Ibid. Nec fas est nobis audire adulteria Deorum Hominumque quae suavi verborum modulantur mercede. Ad Autolyc. lib. 3.  The Stage Adulteries of the Gods and Heroes are unwarrantable Entertainments. And so much the worse, because the Mercenary Players set off 'em with all the charms and advantages of speaking.  
The Translator very well knew, that the Shows here aimed at, were not the Tragedies and Comedies of Antiquity, but the Shows of the Mimi, wherein the Amours of the Gods or Heroes were not related only, but sung to Music in luscious fulsome Verse, mimickt in lewd dances with obscene Gestures and naked Postures, and even the very Adulteries and Rapes themselves expressed by scandalous actions, for which purpose the very Stews were raked for Public Prostitutes for the Service.  
These were the Shows, that provoked the just resentments of the Fathers, which had nothing in Common with the Dramatic Representations, but the Place, and the end of their Representation, which were the Public Theatres, and Worship. But of all the Public Diversions of the Heathens, the Drama only remaining to us, to keep the Authority upon its Legs, it was necessary to give it a new direction, and turn in the version, and therefore the word Players was thrust in, to fix the Scandal in the wrong place.  
That these were the Indecencies, and Lewdness of the Theatre, so bitterly inveighed against by these Pious men, I could bring testimonies innumerable; but to avoid being tedious in a plain case, I shall single out St Cyprian, who being one of the Worthies of Christendom, and the Top of his Species, I hope Mr Collier will not except against his Evidence. 
* Theatra ●unt faediora, quo convenis verundia illic omnis exuitur simul cum amictu, vestis honor corporis, & pudor ponitur, denotanda ac contrectanda virginitas revelatur. De Habit Virg.  The Theatres (says he) are yet more Lewd. There they strip themselves of their Modesty, as well as Clothes, and the honour as well as screen of their Bodies is laid aside, and Virginity exposed to the affronts both of View, and Touch. Which Mr Collier knows was not practised in the Drama.  
But our Histriomastix was aware, that there was nothing to be got by square play, therefore he has recourse to slight of hand, and palms false Dice upon us. In the very next Paragraph we find him prompting Tertullian to rail at the Playhouse, and the Bear-Garden 
* Nihil nobis etc. cum insania Circi cum impudicitia Theatri cum x●sti vanitate. Apolog. adv. Gent. cap. 38. . Which latter, I suppose, was brought in for the grace and dignity of the Conjunction. Here the Playhouse, by his old way of Legerdemain, is substituted for the Theatre; and the most innocent of the Roman Diversions charged with the Gild and Pollutions of all the rest, with which, by his own Confession, it was not so much as soiled. But the shifting of Names levelled the Scandal right for his purpose, and the unlearned Reader might perhaps be induced to believe, that the Father's quarrel lay against Lincolns-Inn-Fields, and Covent-Garden; and therefore he was resolved not to lose the benefit of so advantageous a Cheat, for so small a condescension as falsifying a Text.  
With the same honest view and intention, he forces Tertullian to call Pompey's Theatre 
* Itaque Pomperius magnus solo Theatro minor, cum illam arcem omnium turpitudinum extruxisset, veritus quandoque memoriae suae Censoriam Animadverfionem, Veneris aedem superposuit, etc. , a Dramatic Bawdy-house. Here, to conceal the Father's Age, he shaves off his Beard, and dresses him after his own fashion, in a Steenkirk and a long Wig, that he may look like an acquaintance of our Stage, and keep his Evidence in Countenance. A just Translation would not answer his purpose, and therefore he has taken the usual liberty of adding or altering, and has clapped in the Dramatic Bawdy-house, to clear, that is, pervert the sense. It is no justification, to say that he has not changed the Scene, that the Place is the same, though he has made bold to change the Terms; in changing the Terms he has changed the state of the case, and made the Author accuse the Drama of those enormities, which were peculiar to the Shows of the Mimi, and inveighed against only by him. Thus he uses his Father like an Irish Evidence, and makes him depose with as much latitude, as in a Court of Record, would even in these corrupt times, cost a man his Ears.  
To trace him through all his Quotations from the Fathers, were a task much more tedious, than difficult. It may suffice to take notice, that he keeps to his Principle, and never quotes any thing right, which he thinks may be made more serviceable by being perverted. To prevent this Artifice from being seen through, he endeavours, like a Fish in the Water, to conceal the bottom by muddying the Stream.  
St. Cyprian, Lactantius, chrysostom and Augustine are all managed at the same rate; Mr Collier, like a staunch Beagle, makes the hits, whilst his Fathers, that like Whelps newly entered, are running Riot, have much better Mouths than Noses, and make up a great part of the Cry, but are of no service in the Chase. Those that have a mind to tumble and sift over Mr Collier's Rubbish of Antiquity, may find all his Quotations in Prynne's Histriomastix, honestly transcribed, and more faithfully translated. To which, or to the Fathers themselves, I refer 'em. His Translations are all of a stamp, to repeat more of 'em would be tautology; how different soever the Originals might be, the Copies have all the same Features and Complexions; both Draught and Colouring agree so well, that a very indifferent Judge might infallibly discover 'em all to be Copies by one Hand, by the Harmony of the Faults.  
But to dismiss the Fathers, who have been obliged to an unnecessary attendance, thro' the disingenuity of their Translator, 
The Authority of the Father's short of the Case.  I shall once for all observe, first, that the Authority of the Fathers ought to affect us no farther than their Reasonings will come up to our case: Secondly, That their Arguments drawn from the Idolatry, lewd Representations, and Cruelty practised upon the Roman Stage, and at their Shows, do not reach our Stage, where those practices are had in abhorrence. Thirdly, That as they are cited by Mr Collier, both their Authority and Arguments are subverted by the corrupt Version. If these three things be fairly made out, as (I hope) they already are, we need not be any longer alarmed at this unseasonable clamour from the Fathers.  
But though the main strength of this Attila of the Stage lies in these Worthies of Christendom, 
Caution of Mr C-ll-r  yet, like a cautious Commander, lest they should be surprised, or unable to sustain the shock of the Stage Militia alone, he has provided an Auxiliary Body of Heathen Philosophers, Historians, Orators and Poets, to guard the Passes, and check the fury of the first Onset. Here again he shows his care by his choice, he lists the bottom by muddying the Stream.  
St. Cyprian, Lactantius, chrysostom and Augustine are all managed at the same rate; Mr Collier, like a staunch Beagle, makes the hits, whilst his Fathers, that like Whelps newly entered, are running Riot, have much better Mouths than Noses, and make up a great part of the Cry, but are of no service in the Chase. Those that have a mind to tumble and sift over Mr Collier's Rubbish of Antiquity, may find all his Quotations in Prynne's Histriomastix, honestly transcribed, and more faithfully translated. To which, or to the Fathers themselves, I refer 'em. His Translations are all of a stamp, to repeat more of 'em would be tautology; how different soever the Originals might be, the Copies have all the same Features and Complexions; both Draught and Colouring agree so well, that a very indifferent Judge might infallibly discover 'em all to be Copies by one Hand, by the Harmony of the Faults.  
But to dismiss the Fathers, who have been obliged to an unnecessary attendance, thro' the disingenuity of their Translator, 
The Authority of the Father's short of the Case.  I shall once for all observe, first, that the Authority of the Fathers ought to affect us no farther than their Reasonings will come up to our case: Secondly, That their Arguments drawn from the Idolatry, lewd Representations, and Cruelty practised upon the Roman Stage, and at their Shows, do not reach our Stage, where those practices are had in abhorrence. Thirdly, That as they are cited by Mr Collier, both their Authority and Arguments are subverted by the corrupt Version. If these three things be fairly made out, as (I hope) they already are, we need not be any longer alarmed at this unseasonable clamour from the Fathers.  
But though the main strength of this Attila of the Stage lies in these Worthies of Christendom, yet, 
Caution of Mr C-ll-r  like a cautious Commander, lest they should be surprised, or unable to sustain the shock of the Stage Militia alone, he has provided an Auxiliary Body of Heathen Philosophers, Historians, Orators and Poets, to guard the Passes, and check the fury of the first Onset. Here again he shows his care by his choice, he lists none but men of the first Magnitude, he's so severe that a Volunteer under six foot can't pass Muster. But after all, the Service of these Gigantic Men does not answer the terror of their Bulk and Figure; they are pressed men, that enter the Service against their Wills, and are placed in the Front, like a Swiss painted upon a Door, for show, not action. 'Tis true, they are forced to appear with their Firelocks, and give one charge, but 'tis, like a Moorfields Volley, without Ball, or Bloodshed.  
The Leaders of these are a Triumvirate of Ancient Greek Philosophers, Plato, Xenophon, and Aristotle. The first of these appears not in person, 
Plato's Authority considered.  nor has his proxy much to say for him, that I can find. Yet as little as 'tis, he ought to have produced his Credentials, or his Voice may fairly be protested against. For a hear-say Evidence ought at least to be as well attested, as a Nuncupative Will to make it authentic. But, after all, what is it that he says, or rather that Eusebius says for him? Why, that Plays raise the passions, and pervert the use of 'em, and by consequence are dangerous ●o morality. But since he has not thought fit to specify either the nature or measure of the danger, thus consequentially portended to morality, we need not amuse ourselves any longer about it.  
Much such another doughty Authority is that of Xenophon. 
Xenophon.  
* Ita de venereis etiam rebus advalde juvenes verba non facimus, ne accidente ad vehementem in eyes libid. levitate, immodice huic libidini suae indulgeant Cyropaed, lib.. p. 34  The Persians (he says) won't suffer their youth to hear any thing, that's amorous or bawdy. They were afraid want of Ballast might make 'em miscarry, and that it was dangerous to add weight to the Bias of nature. This quotation is strangely drawn in; it does not so much as squin● towards his purpose. Here's no mention of any thing relating to the Drama. Bawdry indeed was forbidden to be talked to those, whose Reason was not yet grown sturdy enough to curb the looseness of their Appetites in those Countries, where the heat of the Climate, and the warmth of their Constitutions inclined 'em very early, and hurried 'em very precipitously to irregularities of that nature. But if this passage would not serve his Cause, it would his vanity and ostentatation of reading, and therefore was not to be slighted.  
Of as great service is the Authority of Aristotle, 
Aristotle.  one single doubtful expression of whose, he would wrest to the overthrow of one of the most elaborate and judicious of all that great Philosophers works; I mean his Art of Poetry; in which he has taken the pains to prescribe Rules for the more easy and regular composition of Dramatic Poems; which certainly had been in him as well a scandalous, as a ridiculous labour, if he had not thought the practice of 'em allowable. But he's so far from any such indifference, that he frequently, both in that piece, and other parts of his Works, commends the writing of Dramatic Poetry, as the noblest exercise of the mind. Nor do we find any where in the works of that Philosopher, who (by this Author's own confession) had looked as far into humane Nature as any man, a greater profusion of Rhetoric than in the praise 〈◊〉 of Tragedy, which he takes to be the highest exaltation of humane Wit. 
Plays forbidden to young People upon the score of the tempta●●ns from the Company.   
As for this passage, which Mr Collier has picked out, and levelled at the Comedy of our Age, it amounts to no more than a general 
* Adol●scentulos autem & ●amborum & Comaediarum Spectatores esse lex prohibeat, prius quam ●●tatem attigeri●t, 〈◊〉 qua & 〈◊〉 caeteris accubar● jam 〈◊〉 rit, & ab omnibus, vel ebrietatis, vel aliarum inde nascentium rerum incommodis discip●lina liberos efficient Pol. lib 7. c. 17.  caution against trusting youth into promiscuous Company, such as resorted to public places, till they were sufficiently fortified against the danger of Corruption, to which they might thereby be exposed. Drunkenness was the Vice, which the Philosopher particularly instanced in, by which he plainly shows himself apprehensive of the Company, not of the Play; and therefore he would not have young people trusted with the liberty, and opportunity of contracting an acquaintance, before they were arrived at some tolerable maturity of Judgement. But Mr Collier with a dexterity peculiar to himself, palms the general term of Debauchery, for the particular one of Drunkenness upon us, that the suspicion might thereby be shifted from the Audience to the Performance.  
To back this, and cover the conveyance, he brings another Authority as little to the purpose, 
View page 234.  concerning the force and power of Music, from whence he concludes, that where the Representation is foul, the thoughts of the Audience must suffer. What must they suffer? Would the Music, (as powerful as he supposes it) make the Audience drunk, or in love with Drunkenness? No, that was no Vice of the Stage, whatever it might be of the Spectators, yet even by them the Scene was not laid at the Theatres, though the Plot might, and the Company perhaps be picked up there. I suppose this Informer, as inveterate as his malice is against Playhouses, will scarce charge 'em as Schools of intemperance of that kind, 'tis not the practice of the Stage, not so much as behind the Scenes; and I believe he will acquit Pit, Box, and Gallery of it. For whatever some may bring in their Heads, he will find but few with Bottles in their Hands there. This made him wave instancing in the particular of Aristotle; the retail scandal would not fit our Theatres, and therefore he lumps it among 'em by the general name of Debauchery, and tacks this Citation concerning Music to it, which he hopes will give the Reader an Idea more serviceable to his Cause, than Aristotle intended, and make a suitable impression upon him.  
This Philosopher forbade the resort to Comedies, only to those whose virtues he durst not trust; not to hinder their diversion from the Stage, but to prevent their corruption from the Pit, as King Charles the 2d suppressed Conventicles, for the sake of those, whose principles he suspected; not to disturb the Devotion of a few mistaken wellmeaning Men, but to prevent the practices of many crafty ill designing ones.  
Tully cries out upon licentious Plays and Poems, 
View p. 235.  as the bane of Sobriety, and wise thinking: That Comedy subsists upon Lewdness, and that pleasure is the root of all evil.  
No one, 
Licentiousness not defended.  I suppose, will defend Plays, that are really licentious, or if they seem to patronise any, wherein some warm-headed Enthusiastic Zealots pretend to find or make some passages exceptionable, they are willing to leave those Passages, if really guilty, to the mercy of Mr Collier's Inquisition, and yet not deny their Countenance, and Encouragement to the prevailing merit of the main part of the performance.  
But here I must needs take notice, that either Mr Collier or Tully, are extremely mistaken, or, which is all one to our purpose, that this quotation does not speak the sense of Tully. Plautus and Terence are the only Comedians of his acquaintance, whose works have been preserved to our times; and consequently are the only Standards, by which we can form any Judgement, or take any measure of the Roman Comedy before, or about Cicero's time. 
Mr Coll. Character of Terence & Plautus. View p. 20.  These Mr Collier assures us are modest to a scruple, especially Terence, who has but one faulty bordering expression. Plautus, who is of all antiquity the most exceptionable▪ rarely gives any smutty liberties to women, and when he does, 'tis to Vulgar and prostituted persons. The men who talk intemperately are generally Slaves. 
Ib. p. 15, 16, etc.  The Slaves and Panders seldom run over, and play their Gambols before women. Plautus does not dilate upon the progress, successes, and disappointments of Love in the modern way. This is nice ground, and therefore he either stands off, or walks gravely over it. He has some regard to the retirements of modesty, and the dignity of humane Nature, and does not seem to make lewdness his Business.  
This is a very fair character from an adversary, 
This Character In●idious.  a friend could scarce have given a more ample recommendation upon this head. Here seems to be a run of Candour and Ingenuity, for at least a dozen pages together; the ancient Dramatic Writers are treated with so much civility, 'tis all such Halcyon Weather, so fair a Sky, and so smooth a Sea, would tempt the cautiousest Pilot from his Anchor; he would have no apprehensions of a Storm, while all was so serene above, and so quiet and calm beneath him. But this is all out of Character, the Author forces his temper to serve his design, and caresses the Ancients in pure spite to the Moderns, as cunning Statesmen sometimes court and cajole a Party they hate, only to make 'em their tools against another they fear, and so make 'em ruin each other, and save themselves both the trouble, and the odium. This honest Policy Mr Collier has made use of; for, having routed (in his own vain conceit) by the help of these Ancients, the present Stage Poets, he makes head upon his Confederates, and those, that in the entrance of his Book deserv●d no censure, in the conclusion of it are allowed no quarter. The more plausibly and securely to put this Srratagem in execution, he takes care to destroy his own Authority in their favour, by that of much better men against 'em, or that are (as he manages the matter) at least in appearance against 'em.  
This Author is a sort of a Long-lane Writer, 
The A'sci●ation● patched up of incoherent fragments.  a Piece-Broker in Learning, one that tacks ends and scraps of Authors together to patch up a slight Authority, that hangs so weakly together, that it won't bear the fitting. Thus he has linked together two or three ill sorted sentences out of Tully, that make as little to his purpose, as if he had quoted so many Propositions out of Euclid; the truth of which, though every body might acknowledge, yet no body can find the use of in this place. But he found the name of Comedy joined with an invective, and therefore he was resolved, if he did not find it so, to make it of his Party, before he took his leave of it. 
* O praeclaram emendatricem vitae Poeticam, quae Amorem flagitii, & levitatis autorem in Concilio Deorum c●llocandum putet! De Comaediâ loquor quae si haec flagitia non probaremus, nulla esset omni●ò. Quaest. Tusc. lib. 4.  Tully complains, that the Poets gave Love, the author of so many follies and disorders, a place among the Deities, the irregularities of which were the constant subject matter of the Comedies of his time.  
The severities of a harsh old Father, 
The Invention of the Roman Comic Poets barren.  the amours of the Rake his Son, and the intrigues of the Knave his Servant, or the wiles of a mercenary Prostitute, generally made up the business of those Comedies. Hereupon Cicero cries out, that if 'twere not for these Love extravagances, the Comic Poets would be destitute of a Plot. In which he seems rather to tax 'em with barrenness of Invention, than Immorality. 'Tis true, the Moral of such designs could not be very extraordinary, nor could any very edifying doctrine of application be raised from the usual Catastrophe of these Plays. For the Poet generally took care, after he had embroiled matters beyond all seeming possibility of a reconciliation, to disentangle all by some Providential (if Mr Collier won't quarrel at the expression) Incident, and crown the young Libertine with his wishes, 
poetic Justice neglected by them.  reconciling the Father to the Son, and the Master to the Servant. By this means Poetical Justice was eluded, and that which should have been the ground and occasion of moral Instruction lost. The Ancient Comedy was not therefore so innocent as his Character, nor so lewd and impure as his corrupted Quotations would make it.  
His next Authority is from Livy, whose Evidence, 
Livie's Authority abused.  even though it were faithfully reported by Mr Collier, comes not near our case. For Livy speaks here of the Stage Representations in general; but the Drama, properly so called, was not known amongst the Romans at the time of the Pestilence, when the Ludi Scenici were invented. But this is not all, he is not contented to make a false Witness only of this Historian, but he must add Forgery to Subornation, and put his hand to what was not his act and deed.  
The Motives are sometimes good, when the means are stark naught: 
P▪ 255.  That the Remedy in this case was worse than the Disease, and the Atonement more infectious than the Plague.  
These words Livy utterly disowns; 
* Sine carmine ullo sine imitandorum carminum actu, Ludiones ex Hetruria acciti, ad Tibicinis modos Saltantes, haud indecoros motus more Thusco dabant. Dec. 1. l. 7.  he says, that the Ludi Scenici introduced upon this occasion, consisted of certain dances, or decent movements to Music, performed by Artists fetched out of Tuscany, after the manner of their Country.  
Where lay the force of the Contagion in this? What danger of Infection from a modest Dance? After this Livy proceeds to show what were the first steps that were made towards the improvement of these Ludi Scenici, and concludes his short account of their earliest Gradations with this Reflection.  

* Inter aliarum parva principia rerum ludorum quoque prima origo ponenda visa est, ut appareret, quam ab sano initio res in hanc vix opulentis regnis tolerabilem insaniam venerit. Ibid.  Amongst other things that have risen from small beginnings, I thought fit to take notice of Plays, that I might show from how sober an Original this excessive Extravagance, which scarce the wealthiest Nations can bear, is derived. This Mr Collier translates, The motives are sometimes good, when the means are stark naught. 'Tis pretty plain, that 'tis not the Immorality, 
The Luxury and Expensiveness of these Shows, not their Immorality, condemned by Livy.  but the excess of Luxury and Profusion at these Shows, that Livy condemns, by his adding that 'twas greater than the wealthiest Nations could well bear. For 'tis to be supposed, that wealthy people have as much need of Morality as the poor, though they are not obliged to the same measures of Thrift, and good Husbandry. Whether Mr Collier's construction and application of this passage be the effect of his Malice or Ignorance, I leave the World to judge.  
The following is yet a more perverse misconstruction, to which both Malice and Ignorance have clubbed their utmost, even to emulation, so that 'tis hard to distinguish which has the better title to it. Livy tells us 
* Itaque C●. Genutio, L. Aemylio mamerco secundum Coss. cum piaculorum magis conquititio animos quam corpora morbi afficerent, etc. Ibid. , that the Romans were so solicitous about methods of appeasing the Gods, that the anxiety of it was a greater affliction to their Minds, than the disease to their Bodies. This our Remarker, who out of his superabundant understanding, knew better than the Author himself what ought to have been said, thinks fit to render thus, The Remedy in this case is worse than the Disease, and the Atonement more infectious than the Plague. 
Valerius Maximus misquoted,   
Of the same stamp is the Citation from Valerius Maximus, whom he has quoted, whither with less Faith or Uuderstanding, is matter of doubt, for he has given great cause to suspect both. This Author, speaking of the Prizes of their Gladiators, expresses his resentments of that barbarouscustom, (in which Citizens of Rome were often butchered) after this manner. 
* Proximus militaribus institutis ad urbana Castra, id est Theatra gradus faciendus est, quoniam haec quoque saepenumero animosas acies in struxerunt ex cogitataque cultus Deorum, & hominum delectationis causa, non sine aliquo pacis, rubore voluptatem, & religionem civili sanguine, senicorum portentorum gratia, macularunt. Lib. 2. Cap. 4. Falseness and absurdity of Mr C— r ' s Paraphrase  These things which were at first invented for the Worship of the Gods, and delight of Men, were converted totheir destruction, staining both their Religion and Diversions, with the Blood of Citizens, to the Scandal of Peace. 'Tis plain, that by the Animosae Acies this Author meant nothing but the Nurseries of Caestiarii, and Gladiators, and that by the Civilis Sanguis he intended no more of it, than was spilt in arena at those Prizes in quality of Gladiators or Gaestiarii, in which the Spectators had no concern further than in the barbarity of countenancing, and encouraging so cruel a practice.  
This, though bloody and abominable enough to give an abhorrence to honest considerate Heathens, won't suffice Mr Collier, he despises single Sacrifices, and calls for Hecatombs; he's for breathing the Veins of the State, and slucing the Vitals of the whole Commonweath at once. They were the occasion of Civil Distractions; 
P. 235.  and that the State first blushed, then bled for the Entertainmeut.  
This is rare Paraphrasing, Mr. Collier allows himself a very Christian latitude in his interpretations. But less would not serve his turn, the Drama and Arena lay at some distance in Old Rome, and therefore this Gentleman was resolved to correct the Map, and bring 'em together. But what occasion for bloodshed at a Comedy? Why Mr. Paraphraser would insinuate, that the Spectators and the Actors, like Don Quixot and the Puppets, fell together by the Ears, and so embroiling the State, engaged the whole Commonwealth in a Civil War. If I could be persuaded of this, I should allow this Diursion to be altogether as Antichristian, as Bear-baitings or Ridings, and could be content, that Mr Collier, like Hudibrass should reduce both Actors and Spectators by force of Arms; the Prowess of the Champions seems so so exactly equal, that I see no cause to doubt, their Achievements and Success proving parallel.  
He concludes (says our Paraphraser) the consequence of Plays intolerable; 
Ibid. This conclusion not to be found in Valerius.  and that the Massilienses did well in clearing the Country of 'em.  
Where he finds this conclusion I can't tell, I am sure not in either of the Chapters cited by him, nor I doubt through the whole Book. But he's a Discoverer, and has good eyes, that will show him at a vast distance what others can't see with the help of the best Telescopes. What he says of the Massilienses (as he calls 'em) is no more to his purpose, than the former Evidence against the Gladiatorial Shows. Valerius Maximus in his sixth Chapter says 
* Eadem Civitas (viz. Massi●a) severitatis custos acerrima est: nullum aditum in Scenam Mimis dando, quorum argumenta majore ex parte stuprorum continent actus, ne talia spectandi consuetudo etiam imitaudi licentiam sumat. Cap. 6. , That the Marseillians were a very severe People, that wou●d not suffer the Mimics to appear upon their Stage, whose business generally it was to present the action of Rapes to public view, lest the sight of such licentious Practices, should debauch the Spectators to the Imitation of 'em.  
'Twere needless to insist long upon this passage, having already shown the vast difference between the Mimic and Dramatic Representations. I shall only observe, that this Author, by saying that the people of Marseilles denied the Mimi the liberty of their Stage, 
Stage allowed at Marseilles.  intimates that they allowed the Stage there, though under severer restrictions than at Rome. Now if they permitted it amongst 'em at all, there is no doubt but Tragedy and Comedy (which by the unanimous confession even of their Adversaries, were the most innocent, and instructive of all the Ludi Scenici) took their turns upon it.  
S●neca, 
Seneca's Authority nothing to the purpose.  who is next produced, has but little to say to the matter: He is a little angry that the Romans were so fond of their diversion, as to bestow their whole time upon it, and neglect the study of Philosophy, and the improvement of their Reason. Nor was his complaint unreasonable; for the Romans, who were never much addicted to Philosophy, or any kind of Speculative Learning, were yet more averse to 'em than ever under the Reign of Nero, when all sorts of Arts and Literature, those excepted which contributed to the Prince's pleasures, lay under public discouragement; on the other hand, the Stage, and all those Arts that gratified and indulged the Senses, had not only the Countenance, but the Practice and Example of the Emperor himself to encourage 'em, and to excel in any of 'em was the high road to his Favour, and to Preferments It is not therefore to be wondered, if the Roman Youth under that general corruption slighted those Studies, the severity of which made 'em as well unpallatable as unregarded. Nor are we to be surprised, if Seneca declaimed against these Entertainments, which drew away, and alienated the minds of the People from those Studies, upon the merit of which he peculiarly picqued himself.  
The sum of this Philosopher's Evidence amounts to no more than 
* Nihil vero tam damnosum bonis moribus, quam in aliquo spectaculo desidere; tunc enim per voluptatem vitia facilius surrepunt. Epict. 7.  that he thought Idleness a great corrupter of Manners, and that the Shows in use among the Romans, contributed to the making the people Idle, and tainting 'em with Luxury, and thereby rendering 'em more disposed to Vice. His charge against the Shows is in this place general, and respects indifferently any of 'em, many of which were in their own Nature's innocent, and void of offence, yet were equally submitted to censure in this passage with the most scandalous Seneca was not so mean a Judge of Men, 
〈◊〉 perverted.  or Things, as to think all their Shows equally reprehensible, but he found all liable to the same abuse, that is, detaining the people from their business, and giving them too great an itch after Diversions. But this had not been worth our notice, were't not to show, that our modern Reformer, though he has been used to greater Stakes, can play at small Game rather than stand out. For in the latter part of this short Citation he has made a shift to steal in two falfications 
* Tunc enim per voluptatem, etc. p. 235. .  
For there Vice makes an insensible approach, and steals upon us the disguise of pleasure.  
Here he would insinuate that the Vice, of which the Philosopher seems so apprehensive, was of the growth of the place, to which purpose he translates the words. Tunc enim, For there, by which he endeavours to make the infection local, and renders the words, Per voluptatem, In the disguise of Pleasure, that it may seem to come artificially, and industriously recommended. Whereas, all that he says imports no more, than that, when men's Minds, by the flattery of those Diversions, were disarmed of that severity, that the Stoics (of which Sect he was) think requisite to the guard of Virtue, they were more easily prevailed upon, and led away by vicious inclinations.  
There are yet behind in the Train, Tacitus, Plutarch, Ovid, and Mr. Wycherley, whom (whether to show his Judgement or his Manners I know not) he has ranked amongst, and under the head of Pagan Authorities; and truly I think he may as well make a Pagan of him, as an Evidence in this case. But that ingenious Gentleman ought not to take it amiss; for since all those great Men of Antiquity, nay, even the Fathers themselves, the Worthies of Christendom, the Flower of Human Nature, and the top of their Species, are obliged every one of 'em to wear a Fool's Coat, he has the less reason to repine at the Livery.  
These are all summoned to make up the Parade of Learning, 
〈◊〉, etc. impertinently cited.  and have no more business than an Ambassador's Coach of State at his public Entry. Tacitus tells us, that Nero did ill to make the necessities of decayed Gentlemen pimp to the betraying of their honour and dignity. And that the Germans did well to keep their Wives out of harms way. The complaint of Tacitus is nothing to us; his Caution indeed may be of service, as matter of instruction to Mr Collier, and his Proselytes, if he has any, who I hope will reap the benefit of the Germane Example.  
Plutarch thinks, that Licentious Poets ought to be checked: Ay, and licentious Critics too, and corrected into the bargain: though Sancha Pancha and His Critic were both submitted to the lash, till one learned Wit, and t'other Manners, and both Modesty. For saucy Reformers, as well as lewd Poets, require abundance of Discipline to keep 'em within bounds.  
Ovid, 
Ovid and Mr Wycherly say nothing against the Stage, but the Audience.  and Mr Wycherley, as Poets, and Men of Wit, may be joined, though not as Heathens; and their Evidence, being exactly of a piece, is the more properly considered together. This amounts to a proof, that at the Theatres, as well as at all other places, where there is a promiscuous resort of company of both Sexes, the business of Intrigue will go forward. It were much to be wished, that no body came to the Playhouse for a less innocent diversion, than that of the Stage; to Churches and Conventicles with a less pious intention, than that of Devotion; to the Park for a less wholesome refreshment than that of Air, etc. But 'tis as much to be feared, that this universal Reformation will never be brought about, till the accomplishment of the Prophecy (if I may call it so, without offending Mr Collier) of one of our Poets Till Women cease to Charm, and Youth to Love. So long as there are appetites, 
Too great severity of no service to Morality.  there will be means found to gratify 'em. I won't deny, but that the promiscuous conflux of people of all Ages, Sexes, and Conditions, facilitates erterprises of this nature. But I question whether an absolute restraint would not more inflame the desire, than it could prevent the practice; and whither the Morals of the Public would not suffer more by vitiating the Imaginations of the People in general this way, than they could gain by the severest methods of prohibition the other. Spain and Italy are Countries as jealous and vigilant in this point, as any in the world, and yet the people so generally lascivious, that there is no place where Virtue has less interest in the Chastity of either Sex. Whereas on the contrary, in many places under the Line, where the People go constantly naked, the familiarity of the Objects takes away all wantonness of Imagination, which the artificial difficulties of some Countries promote.  
But Ovid, it seems, does in some measure plead guilty, and owns, that not only the opportunity 
* Ludi quoque semina praebent Nequitiae. De Trist. lib. 2. , but the business of the place sometimes promotes lewdness. Nor is it to be wondered at, since some of the representations there were so scandalously lewd, as to give offence to the losest of their Poets. 
* Junctam Pasiphae● ictaeo credite Tauro, Vidimus, accepit Fabula prilca fidem. Mart.  Martial tells us ●, that he saw the Story of Pasiphae acted upon their Stage. But these were the Representations of their Mimi, the scandal of which reflects no way upon the Drama, either Ancient or Modern, and will therefore give us no occasion to dilate upon 'em here.  
I have at length run thro' all his private Authorities against the Stage, 
Mr C—'s licentious Method of misquoting unsufferable.  wherein I can't find so much as one, which is not either impertinently, or falsely cited, as I doubt not, but will upon collation appear. For which reason I have all along put the words of the Original, or of the most approved Version in the Margin, that they might without trouble be collated, and my charge justified. He owns, that he has taken the liberty of throwing in a word or two, (in translating the Fathers) to clear the Sense, to preserve the Spirit of the Original, and keep the English upon its Legs. I hope by this it appears, that he has confounded the Sense, corrupted the Spirit, and set the English upon Stilts. His Modesty's too plain a counterfeit, to cheat those that are not wilfully blind, 'tis so slightly washed over, that the Brass appears at first view; so that whatever denomination he may give it, like an Irish Half Crown, 'twill soon fall to its intrinsic value. After all, his pains in citations are as unluckily bestowed, as the Malefactor's Fee, who, after he has bribed the Ordinary, is called to read over again to the Court, and suffers at last for his ignorance.  
To close all, and crown his Victory, Mr Collier gives us some State Censures (as he calls 'em) to show how much the Stage stands discouraged by the Laws of other Countries, and our own.  
To begin with the Athenians. 
P 240.  This People, though none of the worst Friends to the Playhouse, thought a Comedy so unreputable a Performance, that they made a Law that no Judge of the Areopagus should make one. 
The Athenians, the greatest friends in the world to the Stage.   
'Tis something surprising to find the Authority of the Athenian State produced against the Drama, of which they of all the people of the world were the greatest Encouragers. And this very Law, which is urged against Comedy in particular, is an argument of the general Esteem it was at that time possessed of. For, had the Writing of Comedy been so unreputable a performance, as Mr Collier from this passage of Plutarch would insinuate, there had been no reason to suspect, that any of the Judges of the Areopagus would have been so madly indiscreet, as to have forfeited his Character and Reputation, by so open and public a Scandal; and consequently a provision by Law against a folly of that nature, must have been as senseless a Caution there, as an Act here would be, to forbid any of the twelve Judges dancing upon the Ropes, or tumbling thro' a Hoop in public.  
But this Law makes directly against the purpose it was quoted for, 
This Law a direct Argument against 〈◊〉 Collier.  and seems plainly to argue, that Comedy was in so great reputation amongst 'em, that persons of the highest condition sought the applause of, and made their court to the people by performances of that nature. For which reason they found it necessary to restrain their Judges by a Law, from running into those popular amusements.  
That these Performances were not in fact dishonourable amongst the Athenians, might be made appear from a million of instances, were it necessary. But the credit that Aristophanes had among the Athenians, which was powerful enough to ruin Socrates, is singly sure sufficient to destroy an assertion so weakly founded. So far were they from having Comedy in disgrace, that they encouraged, and maintained it at vast expense to the Public, and thought it so proper an instrument of Reformation 
* Apud Graecos fuit Lege concessum ut quod vellet Comaedia nominatim, & de quo vellet diceret. Cic. de Rep. apud S. August. de Civit dei, cap. 9 , that they gave it free liberty of Speech, and privileged it to say any thing, and of any body by name; and this not by connivance, but by Law; there lay no Action of Scandal either against Poet or Actors.  
This probably gave occasion to the excessive liberties of the old Comedy, 
The old Comedy of the Greeks exceeding licentious.  which at length grew so offensive, as to make way for a Reformation, and the introduction of the new Comedy upon the Athenian Stage. And here the reason why the Areopagites were not allowed to meddle or engage in Comedy, appears pretty plain; for the Liberties, allowed to the old Comedy, naturally engaged 'em in Parties, Factions, and personal Quarrels, which a Judge aught, to the utmost of his power, to keep himself clear of. Beside, the ancient Dramatic Writers were generally Actors in their own Plays, which by no means befitted the gravity of a Judge.  
These reasons (since Plutarch is silent) may suffice to show, 
Comedy, why no proper exercise for a judge.  that the Athenians might have a very great honour for their Comic Writers and yet forbid their Judges to be of the number. The Avocation from their proper Studies, the Laws of the Republic, the quarrels, and consequently the partialities they were by the exercise of that sort of Poetry liable to be engaged in, and the Indignity to their Office, are sufficient to justify such a prohibition, even amongst a people, that had the highest respect for all other persons that excelled in this kind.  
Nor was their kindness extended only to the Drama; for the Bacchanalian Games, even after the abdication of Tragedy and Comedy, though they held not an equal rank with the other, yet had some share of their Favour; and Aeschines, who, according to the testimony of 
* Locata Opera tua illis Histrionibus, qui suspiriosi cognominantur, tertias partes actitabas. Demosth. Orat. de Coron: And in the same Oration he calls him Tertianum Historionem.  Demosthenes, and 
† Aeschines tertias parts in Bacchanalibus apud Aristodemum actitavit. Plut. Aeschine.  Plutarch, was but a third rate Actor 
* Aeschines legationes obiit, & multas alias, & ad Philippum de pace. Ibid. , yet was so well considered by the State, as to be sent on several Embassies, and particularly to conclude a Peace with Philip of Macedon, than which the State could not have given him a more honourable Employment.  
This, I suppose, may almost amount to a demonstration, that the Athenians had no such scandalous opinion of the Stage, as Mr Collier would insinuate, making even Plutarch himself Judge in the case. It would be impertinent after this to insist upon the great Employments, with which Sophocles, and some other of their Poets were honoured; since the already mentioned honours and privileges are a sufficient evidence of the Public Esteem.  
His next State Opinion is that of the Lacedæmonians; 
Opinion of the Spartans'-  and here after a flourish of his own, he appeals to Plutarch again. The Lacedæmonians, 
P. 240.  who were remarkable for the Wisdom of their Laws, and Sobriety of their Manners, and their breeding of brave Men: This Government would not endure the Stage in any Form, nor under any Regulation.  
I find, if this Author can but make his reading appear, 'tis no matter whether his sense does or not. Here is a Period of five lines and a half, without any principal Verb. But the Author is got into his Rhetorical strain, and 'tis no matter for Grammar. For when his Fury's up, Priscian had best stand out of his way; or take a broken Head quietly, or woe be to his bones.  
But who told him, that the Lacedæmonians were so remarkable for the Wisdom of their Laws? They were indeed notorious for the unreasonable severity and singularity of 'em. But I beg Mr Collier's pardon, if ill Nature and Singularity bened arguments of Wisdom, a certain sour, singular Remarker may have written a Book to call his own understanding in question.  
The Gentleman, 
Theft tolerated at Lacedaemon,  I suppose, had heard of a famous Lawgiver called Lycurgus, who was a Lacedaemonian, and left his Country several wholesome Laws, the just commendation of which particular Ordinances he was resolved to transfer to the whole Body, or System of their Laws, in which Violence, Rapine, and Theft were not only tolerated, but recommended to practice and imitation; but all ingenious Arts, lay together with the Stage, under discouragement.  
The Spartans' were a people something of Mr Collier's Kidney, 
Character of the Spartans'  Cynics in their Temper, Morose, Proud, and ill Natured, that hated mortally, as well the Improvements, as the Persons of their polite Neighbours the Athenians, were fond of their primitive Rust, and Barbarity, had an aversion to Elegance, or Neatness of any kind; their principal Virtues were a senseless inflexible obstinacy, whether in the right or wrong, and a sullen sufferance under Adversity. They were in short incorrigible Humorists, a people that would neither lead nor drive, men that were as hard to be persuaded to reform an old abuse, as the Irish formerly to leave off drawing by their Horse's Tails, or a Spaniard would be to part with his Mustachio's, or Mr Collier to retract an Error. This Frame and Constitution of mind, might perhaps recommend and endear 'em, as it seems to alley 'em to a person of the Author's complexion.  
But why did this Scourge of the Stage suppress the reason of this Aversion of the Spartans' to the Drama? Was it not for his purpose? Well, if he●s resolved not to to tell us, Plutarch is better natured, and will. He says, 
* Comaedias, & Tragaedias non admittebant Lacones, ut ntque serio, eos qu●legibus contradicerent audirent. Instit. Lacon. This Authority falsified likewise.  that the Lacedæmonians allowed neither Tragedy nor Comedy, that they might not hear any thing contradictory to their Laws.  
Here was an Authority in appearance as serviceable to his purpose, as the old broad Money was to the Clippers, but he, like some of those unconscionable Artists, that when they had clipped a sixpence, would clap a Nine-penny stamp upon it, could not be contented with the advantage of diminution, but he by covetously endeavouring to raise the value, spoiled the currency of his Authority.  
This Government (says he) would not endure the Stage in any form, nor under any Regulation.  
What warrant has he from Plutarch for this Assertion? 
Politeness, the Objection of the Spartans' to the Drama.  Plutarch tells us, that they did not admit Comedy nor Tragedy, but he says not a syllable of Forms or Regulations. The Lacedæmonians were a rough unpolished people, that were afraid, if the study of Politeness (the inseparable companion of the Drama) were introduced, their Laws, which were as Clownish, and unlicked as themselves, should be affronted, and therefore kept Tragedy and Comedy, like Enemies, at a distance.  
But what does he mean here by the Stage? 
All sorts of Plays not prohibited at Lacedaemon.  Would he insinuate, that all sorts of Shows and Games were prohibited? If so, his Position is absolutely false; for all the rough Bear Garden Play (if I may call it so) was not only tolerated, but very much encouraged by the State. Their Women too had their Religious Plays, 
Lib. 4.  a memorable stoy of which Pausanias' * tells. And 'tis probable, that the Plays in use over all the rest of Greece, were permitted there too in their Primitive Rudeness and Simplicity, conformable to the humour of the people, and the drift of their Policy.  
In the exclusion of the Drama, they aimed only to preserve that Martial Spirit, which by the whole course and method of their Education and Exercises, they endeavoured to infuse into, and nurse up in their youth, which they were afraid the Delicacy and Luxury of the Drama, as 'twas practised at Athens, might soften, and that the Elegancy and Pleasure of those diversions would breed a niceness, which would insensibly create a disgust in their youth to the Manners and Customs of their Country, and consequently make 'em think their Laws harsh and unpolished.  
It was not therefore the Virtue of the Spartans', 
Morality, not the reason of rejecting the Stage.  nor their care of Morality, that made 'em reject the Drama, but an austerity of temper, which rendered 'em ambitious only of Military Glory. In which, notwithstanding their Neighbours and Rivals the Athenians, with all their Delicacy and Luxury, were their equals, if not superiors. What infection of Manners from the Stage, could that State fear, which tolerated Theft and Adultery? 'tis plain, their fear was, lest the natural asperity of their humours, which they industriously cultivated, should be softened, and their minds enervated. For the same reason all sorts of Learning lay under neglect and discouragement.  
Whatever were the reasons that induced 'em to banish the Drama, if Virtue was not, 'tis nothing to Mr Collier's purpose. As for their breeding brave Men, I believe they may be matched from the opposite State of Athens, both for number and quality. But if the Athenians rivalled 'em in Military Glory, they infinitely excelled 'em in all other valuable Qualities, and had as much more Manners, as they had Wit or Wealth. So that if Mr Collier will needs have them for his Champions, I must oppose their old Antagonists to 'em, and leave them to decide the Fate of Greece. For I think the opposition as unequal, as that of Ovid, 
Mulieber in Trojam, pro Trojâ stabat Apollo.   
The next step he takes is into Italy, and there indeed he endeavours to draw a mighty Republic into a League Offensive and Defensive. And here, by the means of St Austin, he draws Tully in; but since Tully does not appear in propriâ personâ we shall not spend Time and Ammunition upon him, but pass on to Livy: 
Livy's Authority considered. P. 241. Postqu●m lege 〈◊〉 fabularum ab risu, 〈◊〉 soluto i●co res avocabatur, & ludus in artem paulatim verterat, Juventus histrionibus fabellarum actu relictu, ipsa inter se more antiquo ridicula intexta versibus jactitare caepit, quae inde exodia postea appellata, conserta●; Fabellis potissimum Atellanis sunt, quod genus ludorum ab Oscis acceptum tenuit juventus: nec ab histrionibus pollui passa est. Eo institutum manet, ut Actores Atellavarum nec tri●a moveantur, & stipendia tanquam expertes artis Ludicrae faciant. Dec. 1. l. 7.  Who, making his personal appearance, is more formidable.  
We read in Livy, that the young people in Rome kept the Fabulae Atellanae to themselves. They would not suffer this diversion to be blemished by the Stage. For this reason, as the Historian observes, the Actors of the Fabulae Atellanae were neither expelled their Tribe, nor refused to serve in Arms. Both which Penalties, it appears, the common Players lay under.  
Here Mr Collier has used a piece of Ingenuity uncommon with him, and put the words, Ab Histrionibus pollui in the Margin to justify his Translation. This is a strain of fair play, that he has not been persuaded to come up to, since his first quotation from Theophilus Antiochenus. Not but that he was satisfied of the reasonableness of the conduct, (as appears by his using it, when 'tis for his turn) but because he had cause to fear the service of it.  
In this Translation is another of his elegancies of Speech: Were neither expelled their Tribe, nor refused to serve in Arms. He means, I suppose, prohibited, or denied the liberty of serving in Arms: for refused to serve in Arms is not English.  
To understand this passage of Livy rightly, 
Ancient Romans an unrefined People.  we must consider that the Romans in the Infancy of their State were a severe sort of people, not much unlike in that particular to the Lacedæmonians, ambitious only of Empire, and solicitous for nothing so much as the glory of their Arms: This humour lasted some Ages, and grew and increased with their acquisitions; every augmentation of their State animated 'em to new Conquests, and their Ambition rising with their hopes, success made 'em fierce and haughty. 'Twas the universality of this Spirit, (which would be dangerous to any other than a Popular Government) that laid the Foundation, and was the Instrument of their future greatness. To support, and keep up this Spirit, all manner of Arts here, as at Lacedaemon, lay under neglect and contempt, except such as contributed to the forming of their Youth to hardiness, and military virtue 
* Virtus superstitione animis Ludi quoque Scenici nova res bellico●o populo, instituti dicuntu●. Et ea ipsa percgrina res suit. Ludiones ex Hetruria acciti. Ibid. . So that when there seemed to be a necessity of instituting expiatory Plays, the Romans were such absolute strangers to things of that nature, that they were forced to fetch Artists out of Tuscany.  
It is no wonder if the Romans, who 
* Imitari deinde eos juventus, simul inconditis inter se jocularia fundentes versibus, cepere. Ib. Acting of Plays first left off by the Roman youth, because of the difficulty.  were a people very proud, and conceited of their own performances, treated all those Arts, and Artists, which were not adapted to their proper Genius with contempt, especially after they had received those Improvements, which rendered 'em more artificial, and consequently more difficult. By which means the Roman Youth, who at first began to imitate the Tuscan Players, were forced to throw up those refined diversions to their 
† Vernaculis Artifiribus. Ib.  Slaves, and stick themselves to the old, rude, simple way of mixing indigested Verses, and crude extempore raillery. 
Histrio●e●, who so called.  Thus the Ludi Scenici being refined, fell wholly into the hands of Mercenary Players, who were upon this occasion distinguished by the name of 
* Vernaculis Artisicibus, 〈◊〉 Hister 〈…〉 Ibid.  Histriones, the Roman Youth retaining to themselves only the Fabulae Atellanae, which, because of their rudeness and simplicity, required no great skill or application, as the other did; which, for that reason, perhaps they were either too Saturnine, or too proud to learn of those, whom they esteemed as Vassals, or Slaves.  
That this was the reason of their giving over the acting their other Plays, and not any turpitude, or dishonesty in the things themselves, Livy himself declares, by saying 
* Postquam lege , that after the introduction of the Fable, they became too artificial for the practice of their youth, and therefore reserving to themselves the Atellanae only, they left the rest of the Shows to those that made it their sole business.  
'Tis observable, that the Historian in this account of Plays includes not the Drama at all; for he speaks here only of the Fables, which, after the Satyrae, were introduced by one Livius, and were repeated in Verse with action and gestures to Music. Tragedy and Comedy were not known to the Romans till some ages after, the progress of their Arms had not made them acquainted with the Learning of Greece, and the Wealth and Luxury of Asia.  
This mark therefore of Infamy, which was set upon the Histriones (from which (as Mr Collier observes) the Actors of the Fabulae Atellanae were exempt, can't properly stick upon the Actors of Tragedy, and Comedy as such, that Law having been made long before the Drama was brought to Rome from Greece  
But it was the misfortune of the Drama to make its Public Entry into Rome, 
Conjectural Reason why Players were noted with Infamy.  not only long after this voluntary, and unanimous secession, or separation of the Youth of Rome from the Mercenary Players, but even after the Law had branded these latter with Infamy and Disgrace, by excluding 'em from their Tribes, and denying 'em the liberty of bearing Arms. Whether, because making a business, and profession of diversion only, the Roman State, which encouraged those exercises only that tended towards hard'ning their Youth, for labour and military action, as partly thro' inclination, so also out of necessity and State interest, being in its infamy surrounded by Neighbours more potent than themselves, and obliged to subsist almost altogether upon the purchase of their Swords, thought fit, by a public discouragement, to deter their Youth from giving themselves up to an Employment, that so little suited the posture, and condition of their Affairs at first, and the vastness of their Ambition afterwards. Or, that after the first separation, occasioned (as Livy hints) rather by the incapacity and unfitness of the Romans for Elegancy, and polite Exercise, the practice of the Stage, fell wholly into the hands of Slaves, and Mercenary Foreigners, to join with whom, the Magistrates and People, who were extremely proud, and jealous of the honour, and dignity of their Citizens as such, thought it so great an indignity and debasement that they made provision by this Law against it. Or, lastly, that their Mimes & Pantomimes were already, before the making of this Law, arrived at that lewd height of impudence, that we have already taken notice of, which obliged the Government to take this method to fright their Citizens from mixing in the proctice of such impurities.  
Of these Reasons the two first seem jointly to have contributed to the production of this Law: 
Two sins most probable.  and Livy, though he does not formally assign any reason for this severe usage of the Players, yet seems implicitly to intimate 'em to us in the notice that he has taken of 'em, though not as causes, yet as circumstances considerable at that time. The silence of Livy concerning any such licentiousness in their Shows at that time, is a sufficient argument against the last cause. For that Historian, who upon all occasions shows abundance of zeal for the honour of his Country, would not have failed to have done 'em justice upon this occasion, had this rigour been the product of their Morals, and regard to Virtue. It is apparent therefore, that this discouragement of the Shows, or rather this restraint of the Action to Servants and Strangers, was the result of their Policy, not Manners, and is therefore an impertinent instance to Mr Collier's purpose, who I suppose writes for the Reformation of Men's Morals, not Politics.  
'Tis probable, 
Drama at first necessitated to use the Actors of the Ludi Scenic●  that when Tragedy and Comedy came upon the Roman Stage, being destitute of able Actors of a higher Character, they were necessitated to make use of the Actors of the Scenic Shows, who, though used to Representations differing very much both in their manner and end, yet by their practice and pronunciation and gestures, had both Voice and Motion under great command; which made the exercise of the Tragic or Comic Stage, though new and unknown to 'em before, not difficult.  
By this means the Actors of Tragedy and Comedy, 
The Actors of Tragedy and Comedy, therefore only called Histriones.  who could not be aimed at by a Law made long before any such were in being, might yet be brought under the censure of it in quality of Histriones, or Scene Player's before noted. Thus these different Characters meeting constantly in the persons of the same men amongst the undistinguishing Crowd, the Infamy of one might affect the other.  
But granting the meaning and intention of that Law to reach the Dramatic Actors, and that using a craft, which submits 'em to those compliances, for which the other are censured; they also are offenders against the design of it, and consequently are comprehended within the intent of it, and liable to the penalty. Yet even thus this instance, giving it all the scope that may be in the utmostlatitude of construction, is no way serviceable to this Reformer's purpose. This would have appeared very plain, had the Law itself, instead of the instance from Livy, been produced.  

* Praetorian Edict.  
† Infamia notatur qui Artis judicae, pronunciandive causa in Scenam prodierit. Scena est, ut Labeo definite quae ludorum faciendorum causa quolibet loco, ubi quis consistat, moveaturque spectaculum sui praebiturus, posita est. L. 1. & 2. F. de iis qui notantur infamia.  The Praetorian Edict runs thus Whoever appears upon the Stage to speak, or act, is declared infamous. Which Labeo expounds thus. The Stage is any place fitted up for the use of Plays, where any one is to appear, and by his motion make himself a public Spectacle.  
This Law being conceived in general terms against all that speak or act, upon the Stage for the diversion of the People, seems indeed naturally to include Comedians, and Tragedians, who do both speak, and act upon the Stage, and make a show of themselves to the People too. Yet it does not serve our Adversaries cause at all, who must show, that their Profession was branded for the Immorality of it, or he talks nothing to the purpose.  
This Exposition of Labeo's upon this Law, 
Labeo's Position shows the intent of that Edict  like the Preamble to one of our Acts of Parliament, may let us into the meaning of the Letter, and the motives that induced 'em to make it. What this Learned Roman Lawyer here observes as matter of offence, is only, that they did, Spectaculum sui praebere, make a show of themselves for hire; which the Pride of the Romans might very naturally make 'em think to be a Prostitution of the Dignity and Character of a Citizen of Rome, which deserved to be punished with the privation of that which they had dishonoured.  
To secure this point, 
Mr Collier's disingenuity in this point.  the words, ab Histrionibus pollui, which he renders to be blemished by the Stage, are (as has already been observed) put into the Margin, by which he hopes to cast that blemish upon the Morality of the performance, which in strictness regarded only the Persons, and Dignity of the Actors, and that not upon any Moral, but a Political Consideration. By these Instances it may appear, what violence of Construction is used to rack and torture these ancient Authors to confess, and depose against their Consciences. Stretching the Text is nothing with him, to serve his purpose it must be dismembered, that he may have the cementing the fragments as he pleases; by which means he has shown 'em in more unnatural figures, than even Posture Clark knew; Heads and Tails are so promiscuously jumbled together, that the most familiar posture you find 'em in, is that of a Dog couchant, with their Noses in their A— s.  
But if after all, 
The Roman Censure extended only to the Mercenary Actors as such.  this Censure should reach the Mercenary or Hireling Actors only, and merely upon that account, I think 'twill be pretty evident, that 'twas not the exercise of their Mystery that made 'em scandalous, but the Motives that induced 'em to it. To clear this point, let us look a little forward, and to the former Law, we shall find the following subjoined.  

* Eos enim qui quaestus causa in certamina descendunt, & omnes propter praemium in Scenam prodeunres, famofos esse Pegasus, & Nerva filius responderunt. L. 2. de iis qui notantur infamia.  Those that enter the Lists for the sake of Gain, or appear upon the Stage for Reward, are infamous, says Pegasus, and Nerva the Son.  
Here 'tis plain that 'twas not the nature of their Profession that drew the censure upon 'em, but the condition of their exercising it, which was for hire, whereby they became Mercenaries. This disgrace, affecting only the Mercenary Actors, reflects no way upon the Poets of the Drama, and their Performances. For had they been scandalous, 'tis not to be imagined, that so many of the greatest men that ever Rome bred, and the tenderest of their honour, would have amused themselves about Works, in which they must have employed abundance of Time, Learning, and Judgement, to forfeit their Reputation and Dignity.  
Scipio Africanus and Laelius were 
Scipio and ●●lius Writers to the Stage, ●r assisting to it.  publicly suspected to have assisted Terence in the composition of his Plays; and the Poet, when taxed with it, is so far from vindicating his great Patrons, (which had it been matter of reproach and diminution of honour to those noble Persons, he certainly would have done) that he does in a manner confess the charge to be true, and with a dexterity, in which he was singularly happy, converts what was intended as an imputation, to a compliment upon himself, and values himself more upon the condescension, and friendship of men of their high Character and Station, than upon the merit of his performance; which, this objection was raised to lessen, by dividing the honour.  
Julius and Augustus Caesar, 
Julius and Augustus Caesar, and Seneca, etc.  are both said to have busied themselves at vacant hours in Tragedy; and even Seneca the Philosopher. However, Mr Collier▪ has lately seduced him over to his Party, and made a Malcontent of him, was once very well contented, and easy at a Play, and that too, not a sober Tragedy or Comedy, 
* In meridianum Spectaculumincidi lusus Spectans, & sa●les, & aliquid Laxamenti Epist. 7.  but one of their Noonday Drolls, a kind of their Ludi Senici, more wretched and contemptible, than our Smithfield Farces, and less modest. Yet his Gravity was it seems refreshed by it, though he's grown so very squeamish, since his acquaintance with Mr Collier that it would be a h●rd matter to reconcile 〈◊〉 to a grave Tragedy, though of his own Writing (before his rigid new friend, Mr Collier) some of which are supposed to be yet extant amongst his Name sakers Collection of Tragedies.  
Brutus, who left behind him (notwithstanding his fatal engagement in the assassination of Caesar,) as high an Idea of his Virtue, and as a perfect character of an excellent moral m●n, as even Ca●o himself, was as great an admirer and encourager of the Drama, as any Roman of 'em all. And Tully himself, who had as much Vanity and Pride as any man breathing, thought it no diminution of his dignity and character, to contract an intimate friendship with Roscius an Actor, and publicly to espouse his Interest, and defend his Cause, which a man of his vanity and caution would not have done, had the Censure of that Law upon his Profession, any way affected in the public esteem the reputation of those among 'em, that had any personal merit, as Roscius, AEsopus, and some others.  
But though these, and many others of the most eminent among the Romans, were avowed Patrons, and the supposed at least, if not the real Author of many of their Dramatic Pieces, yet our Remarker finds, that in the time of Theodosius all sorts of Players did not come up to the Reputation of those Great Men, 
Law of the Theodosian Code considered.  and make the top figures of their time, and therefore he claws 'em away with another swinging Authority.  
In the Theodosian Code, Players are called Personae inhonestae, 
P. 241.  that is, to translate it softly, persons maimed and blemished in their Reputations. Their Pictures might be seen at the Playhouse, but were not permitted to hang in any creditable 
* In loco honesto.  place of the Town.  
So says Mr Collier, but the Emperors Theodosius, Arcadius, and Honorius, by the Authority of whom this Law was enacted and continued in force, were somewhat less severe, and something more particular, and this Gentleman●s Version of that Law, however soft he may pretend it to be, is no very fair one. Faithfully rendered it runs thus.  
If, 
* Siqua in publicis Porticibus, vel in his Civitatum locis, in quibus nostrae solent Imagines consecrari pictura ●●●cmimum vest● hum●●i, & rugosis sinubus Agitatorem, aut vilem offerat Histrionem, illico revellatur: neque unquam, post hac liceat in loco honesto personas in honestas ad no●are. In aditu vero Circi, vel in Theatri prosceniis ut collocentur, non vetamus, L. Siqua. Cod. de Spectac.  in the public Porches, or other Places of the City where Statues use to be dedicated to us, the Picture of any mean habited Pantomime and Charioteer with his ruffled Garment, or base Droll Actor be put up, let it be immediately pulled down: nor shall it be lawful for the future to represent persons of such despicable Characters in places of honour. But in the entrance of the Circus, or before the Stage of the Theatres they may be allowed.  
This, 
Meaning of the Theodosian Law.  when produced faithfully, and at length, is a worshipful Authority for Mr Collier's purpose, and the Strowlers all over the Kingdom must needs be extremely mortified, when they reflect upon this Article, and find, that they are not yet so proper Companions for the King, as to be hail fellow, well met with him at a Public Entry, or Audience. These Emperors, it seems, thought it a sort of Indignity to have every Scoundrel Hackney Coachman, Antic Tumbler, or Droll Actor set up in Effigy by their own Statues, which in the times of Paganism were the objects of Solemn Worship, and afterwards of the highest veneration imaginable below it. They thought it a derogation to Majesty (as well they might) to have objects of ridiculous mirth and scorn placed so near 'em, and that the tickling to laughter, which these produced in the people, would lessen the awful Respect and Reverence expected to be paid to the other.  
But not to carry matters so high; 
Parallel instances.  If any one should take a fancy to set Tom Dogget's Effigies in his Sailors dress, familiarly cheek by jowl in the same, or the next Niche to the King upon the Exchange (though that ben●t so solemn a place of honour to our Kings, as the Roman Porticus to their Emperors) I suppose it wou●d be resented as an affront, and be by order pulled down. But if any man should take a fancy to the sign of the King's Head, and his next Neighbour to Mr Be●terton's, I hardly think there would come any order from Whitchall to demolish or Lamb-black the Sign. And though perhaps the two first may actually be found at Murray●s or some other eminent Limners in the same Room yet I fancy the Painter will hardly incur the penalty of Crimen laesae Majestatis, though he should happen to have drawn 'em both with the same Pencil too. Princes, though very zealous and tender of their honour, (as they have reason to be) yet are not half so nice and scrupulous as Mr Collier. These instances are exactly parallel to, and show the difference between the drift of the Theodosian Code, and of his extravagant Paraphrase, which having already given the words of, I leave the Reader to judge of the Intention.  
His instances from our English Statutes and the Petition of his Godly Citizens, I shall take no notice of, both because I find it sufficiently done already to my hands, and because I think 'em nothing to his purpose, as I think indeed of the greatest part of what I have already examined; but hitherto they seemed to carry a face of Learning and Authority, which might misled the unlearnd, or surprise the unwary, if they were not warned in time of his disingenuity in Quotation.  
His Authorities drawn from the several Canons of some Councils, 
Authorities from the Councils already answere●d.  are liable to the same reprehension with the rest of his Citations. But I am willing to compound with my Reader for my past prolixity, and to dismiss 'em without any further trouble, or examination; especially since the formal Reasons of 'em are contained in the Objections from the Fathers, and already answered there. Since therefore the Idolatry, Lewdness, and Cruelty of the Roman Shows, (which provoked the indignation of the Fathers, and the censure of those Councils) are banished our Stage, I see no reason, why the Batteries, that were raised only to demolish them, should be continued against it. But Mr Collier, and the Bishop of Arras are gotten into Confederacy, and are resolved, that though the Theatres have long since performed their Articles on their parts, not to allow 'em the benefit of the Capitulation, and surprising 'em, lulled into security by a long cessation of Arms, to raze 'em utterly to the ground.  
Delenda est Carthago, 
Quarrel to the Stage unjust.  was the word, the ruin of the Stage was agreed upon between 'em, but they wanted a fair pretence of quarrel; and therefore General Collier publishes a tedious Manifesto, filled with specious pretexts, to give a colour to his proceedings, and at the same time makes his Invasion. His quarrel to the Stage is like that of the Wolf to the Lamb, when the Prey was ready, the varnish of Justice was but a formality, that served like a Hypocrite's Grace, to make his Meal the more decent; when the personal accusation proves too light, the Family differences are thrown into the Scale, and he runs 1500 years backward to make weight. Thus he makes a true Italian grudge of it, no change of Air, or Soil can can make it degenerate, but it remains entailed upon the Posterity, and successors of those, between whom it first began, though the true reason why it ever began, were long since ceased, and perhaps forgotten.  
But after he has, like a hot mettled Car, with a bad Nose, overrun the Scent, and cried it false thro' all the ●ields of Antiquity, he begins to be afraid of being whipped home, and therefore begins to draw towards it of himself. He's sensible, that the comparison betwixt the Roman and English Stages will not hold water, and to answer the leaks, he begins to ply the Pump, in order to keep it afloat, but it works as hard, and refunds as little as a Usurer's Conscience.  
But it may be objected, 
P. 277.  is the Resemblance exact between old Rome and London? will the Parallel hold out, and has the English Stage any thing so bad as the Dancing of the Pantomimi? I don't say that. The Modern Gestures, though bold, and lewd too sometimes, are not altogether so scandalous as the Roman. Here than we can make 'em some little abatement.  
Ay! 
Ancient Stage infinitely more scandalous, and lewd than the Modern.  is that your Conscience? can you make but little abatemant? I find you've a Stomach like a Horse, nothing rises upon it, let it be never so provoking either, for quantity or quality. Dancing naked with Gestures, expressive of Lewdness between both Sexes at a time, and public and open prostitutions in the representations of the Rapes and Adulteries of their Gods, were frequently the diversions of the Roman Theatres. All these provoke no Qualms in him; he can scarce make any abatement. What would a queasy Stomached Atheist give for his digestion.  
But where's the Boldness, 
Stage dancing as now practised inoffensive to Modesty.  and Lewdness of the Modern Gestures; which Mr Collier makes bold to charge 'em with? I dare answer for the Audience, that could they find any such thing in our Dancing, they would be so much more reasonable than he, that they would part with all that part of the Entertainment. But perhaps he suspects some intentional Lewdness, which is not expressed any way, and thinks that Monsieur L'Abbe is fallen into Sir Fopling Flutter's stratagem, and is sparing of his Vigour in private, only to be lavish of it in public, and thinks no one Woman worth the loss of a Cut in a Caper, which is designed to make his Court to the whole Sex. This indeed is a dangerous design, and the discovery is worth Mr Collier's time and pains, 'tis a Plot upon the Virtue of the whole Sex; therefore if he has any such thing in the Wind, e●en let him follow his nose, and cry it away as loud as he pleases.  
Well, but he begins to relent again already, these wamblings are a certain sign of Breeding, he's in a longing condition, that's plain. Come t'other strain Sir, and up with't. So now it's out.  
And to go as far in their Excuse as we can, 
P. 277.  'tis probable their Music may not be altogether so exceptionable as that of the Ancients.  
Really Sir this is very kind, and condescending. 
Mr Coll's Notion of the extravagant Power of Music ridiculous.  But do you truly, and from your heart think, that our Theatre Music is not altogether so pernicious, as the Music of the Ancients? Now were I as cross, and captious as a Stage Reformer, and as full of Mr. Collier's own Devil of Opposition, as himself, I could raise his, and divert the Spleen of other People. But Foolery apart, I desire to know wherein consists this imaginary Force of Music, 
Collier's Moral Essay Vol. 2d P 21 Ib. P. 22.  that Charms, and Transports, Rufflles, and Becalms, and Governs, with such an arbitrary Authority, that can make drunken Fellows, as soler, and shamefaced, as one wou●d wish. If he can tell me this, erit mihi magnus Apoll, or, what's but one remove from him, first Knight of his own order of the Welsh Harp. Our Fiddlers find to their cost sometimes the want of this coercive power, but perhaps they can't play a Dorion, and for that piece of Ignorance deserve the Fate they sometimes meet with, when they unluckily fall into the Company of these Drunken Fellows, and get their heads broke with their own Fiddles, in return for their Music. Yet to do the Gentleman all the Justice, ay and the Favour too, that we can, in return for his late Civility, I must own, that I have seen at a Country Wake, or so, one of these Harm onious Knights of the Scrubbado, or a Melodious Rubber of Hair and Catgut, lug a whole Parish of as arrant Logs, as those that danced after Orpheus, by the Ears after him, to the next empty Barn, frisking, and curvetting at such a frolicsome rate, that they could scarce keep their Legs together; nay, such was the power of the Melody, that even the solitary deserted Gingerbread Stalls wagged after; and all this without the help of one illegal string, and but four very untunable ones. What could Timotheus, or even Orpheus himself do more.  
However I would not have the Gentleman swell too much in the Pride of his Victory, I would not have him insult too soon. For, though possibly these Knights of the Harp and Catgut might know, 
Moral Essay vol. 2. P. 21.  how to arm a sound, and put force and Conquests in it, yet had there not been a Favourable Conjuncture of Circumstances, the Harmony, as charming as it was, had not succeeced so miraculously, nor produced such extatick Raptures. For example, had this Descendant from Orpheus surprised 'em at a time, when the Holiday Clothes were laid up in Lavender, when the Hay, or Harvest was abroad, or the Snow upon the Ground, and the Cattle wanted Foddering, when the Calf was to be suckled, and the Cheese to be set, he might have thrummed his Harp out, and could no more have stirred those very Clods, that leapt as mechanically before at the first twang, as if they had been mere Machine's (Instruments strung, and tuned to an Unisone) than he could have raised the Turf, they trod upon, by virtue of Ela, and F-ffaut. The Critical Juncture missed, Roger had not jogged a foot out of his way, nor Madge out of her Dairy, they had been as regardless of his Harmony, as a London Milk Maid, after the first week in May; 〈◊〉 ancient Britons 〈◊〉 as easily have been charmed from his scrubbing Post.  
There are indeed certain opportunities to be found by those that skilfully watch 'em, 
Power of Music owing to contingent circumstances.  wherein men's Souls are to be taken by surprise, wherein they give themselves up wholly to the direction of their Senses, when Reason tired with perpetual mounting the Guard, quits her Post, and leaves 'em to be drawn away by every delightful Object, every pleasing Amusement. At these times Sound, Colour, Taste, and Smell have all an unusual Influence; a Face, a Voice, or any thing else, that gives us pleasure for the time, Commands us, and we are hurried, like Men in Dreams, we know not how, nor whither. Yet this is easily accounted for, without recourse to natural Magic, or any suitable Power in those Agents, that work upon us. Our Souls are at these times, like Vessels adrift, at the mercy of Waves and Winds, from what corner soever they blow; our Senses are the Compass they sail by, from whence those Blasts of Passion come, that drive us so uncertainly about, but 'tis without any peculiar inherent force of Direction more in one point than another.  
Thus far Music, 
Influence of sounds indeterminate.  as well as other things that gives us delight, and flatter the Senses, may influence us. It may when we are under a lazy disposition of mind, produce a degree of satisfaction something above Indolence, but the motions of it are languid and indeterminate, that incline us only to an unactive easiness of mind, a barren Pleasure, that dies without Issue, with the Sounds that begat it; so little danger is there that it should be in the power of a few mercenary Hands, 
P. 279.  to play the People out of their Senses, to run away with their understanding, and wind their Passions about their Fingers, as they list. I suppose few will take it upon this Gentleman's word, that Music is almost as dangerous, as Gunpowder; and requires no less looking after, than the Press or the Mint.  
This Gentleman sure has a Noise of Music in his head, that has put the Stumm in his Brain into a Ferment, and caused it to work over into all this windy fancy and froth. He has been a Tale-gathering among the Ancients, and wou●d put his Romantic Rhapsody upon us for Authentic. But what is yet more unreasonable is, that without offering one Argument to prove either the reasonableness of his Opinion, or the reality of his Instances, he dogmatically asserts things monstrously, exceeding the stretch of the most capacious faith, and yet expects that, which alone is sufficient to destroy the credit of things infinitely more probable, the vast distance of time should warrant the truth of them. As if he believed all Mankind to be proselyted to the Paradox of a certain Father certum est quia impossibile.  
But if the Power of the Ancient Music was so great, as he would persuade us, certainly Timotheus was a Fool for suffering his harp to be seized for having one string above public Allowance. 
P. 280. p. 179.  For if altering the notes, were the way to have the Laws repealed, and to unsettle the Constitution, he might with a twang, instead of taking a string from his Harp, have put one about the Magistrates Neck, and for a Song have set himself at the head of Commonwealth. But this Author, who is all along a Platonist in his Philosophy, is in this point an arrant Bigot. The whole scheme and strain of the Platonic Philosophy, 
The Author a Platonist.  is very romantic and whimsical, and like our Author's works, savours in every particular more strongly of Fancy than Judgement, yet in nothing more, than in the imaginary power of Harmony, to which he ascribed the Regulation, and Government of the Universe, and other Powers more fantastical and extravagant, than that of the Pythagorean numbers.  
Now were I in as cross a mood, and as much at leisure to be impertinent as this Admirer of the Ancient Music, who has ventured to affirm it as certain, 
Moral Essay, Vol. 2. P. 23.  that our Improvements of this kind, are little better than Alehouse Crowds, with respect to theirs. I could with a cërtainty of Evidence, next to Demonstration, maintain just the Reverse of his Assertion, and prove that the Music of the Ancients fell infinitely short of the Modern in point of perfection, as well in Theory as Practice, and that, waving the fabulous accounts, (which none but an Enthusiastic Bigot can seriously insist upon) all our Memoirs from Antiquity will scarce make the Harps of Orpheus and Arion, etc. to triumph over a Jew's Harp, or Rival a Scotch Bagpipe.  
But after all, 
Not acquainted with the Subject he treats of.  it seems that he has been raving all this while in Pedantic Bombast, at he knows not what. He confesses that he is not acquainted with the Playhouse Music, and that he is no competent Judge. 
P. 278.  I don't say this part of the Entertainment is directly vicious, because I am not willing to censure at Uncertainties. How long, I wonder, has he been thus modest? had he been thus tender all along, he had suppressed his whole Book, and the truth had suffered nothing by the loss of it. But in earnest, is he deaf? or does he wax up his ears when he goes to a Play, as (he says) Ulysses did, when he sailed by the Sirens? No, neither; but, if we may believe him, 
P. 278.  he never comes there. Those that frequent the Playhouse are the most competent Judges. Why that's honestly said, they are so; keep but to this, and there's some hope of an accommodation. But alas! though his zeal is a little Aguish now, the hot ●it comes on apace, and then right or wrong, He must say, that the performances of this kind are much too fine for the place. 
Ibid.   
Tho he has never heard of one, 
His charge rash.  nor seen t'other, yet he cries hang scruples, the Music must be bawdy, Atheistical Music, and the dancing bold and lewd too sometimes. Now whether he means that the Fiddler himself is an Infidel of a Fiddler, or that he has an unbelieving Crowd, he is desired to explain; for they are both left to be catechised by him. But as for the sounds produced betwixt them, care has been already taken to clear 'em, not only from guilt, but from all manner of meaning whatsoever. As for the dancing, which he calls bold, it may in one sense be allowed him; for it must be granted, that he that ventures his neck to dance upon the top of a Ladder, is a very bold Fellow. If this concession be of any use to him, 'tis at his service, whether the fraternity of Ropedancers take it well at my hands or not. But for the Lewdness, I must remind him of his appeal to those who frequent the Playhouses, (whom he allows to be) the most competent Judges. But as their Judgement in these matters appears to be indisputable, so the modesty of the better part of 'em at least, (I mean the Ladies) who are the particular favourers of this part of the entertainment, is unquestionable. Their countenance therefore in so plain a matter, which being a question of fact, admits of no other decision, aught to be looked upon as a definitive Judgement against him, and a sufficient vindication of our Stage-dancing.  
I should here dismiss this point without further debate, 
Comparative Morality of the Vocal Music of the Ancient and Modern Stages.  if I did not find him closing it on his side with a notorious false assertion concerning the comparative Morality of the vocal Music of the Ancient and Modern Stages, which, not designing to resume this branch of the Controversy any more, I am bound here to take notice of, and rectify.  
If the English Stage is more reserved than the Roman in the case abovementioned. 
P. 280.  If they have any advantage in their Instrumental Music, they lose it in their Vocal. Their Songs are often rampantly lewd, and irreligious to a flaming excess. Here you have the Spirit, and Essence of Vice drawn off strong scented, and thrown into a little compass. Now the Ancients, as we have seen already, were inoffensive in this respect.  
Here again I am at a loss to know whether this is a fault of ignorance or design. But be it whether he pleases, the falseness of his assertion is unpardonably scandalous; for whether he has ventured to affirm beyond, or contrary to his knowledge, 'tis manifest he did it with an intention to impose upon his Readers, by asserting that which he could not know to be true, if he did not certainly know it to be false.  
The Vocal Music of the Ancient Stage was of two sorts, 
Ancient Vocal Music.  one whereof was interspersed among their Dramatic Writings, and consisted of Hymns, and Praises of their Gods, which were sung and danced by the Chorus to certain grave Airs and Measures. Here indeed the Poets must have been more impertinently and perversely lewd, than Mr Collier's ●s own corrupt imagination can positively make the Moderns to be, if they could have found room for any thing very indecent; though an ill natured Critic, with much less Gall or Straining, than Mr Collier has made use of, might show, that they were not so absolutely inoffensive, 
Chorus, its office.  as he affirms. The Chorus represented the Spectators, and their business was to make occasional reflections upon the several incidents and turn of the Fable, which was the artificial Instrument, the Ancient Poets used to convey the Moral into the Audience, and teach 'em what to think upon such occasions, and how to behave themselves in reference to their Gods and Religion, and were therefore supposed to speak the sense of the Poet, or what at least he desired should be taken for such. Now I dare answer for the meanest of those Poets, upon whom this Author has made his reflections, that taking our Estimate of their understandings by his own diminutive survey of 'em, there is not amongst 'em one so arrant a Blockhead, as under the circumstances of the Ancients to have taken more liberty, than they did.  
But if their Chorus was modest and harmless enough; the other part of their Stage Vocal Music will make ample amends, and make the lewdness of our Poets appear, as demure as a Quaker at a silent meeting. The Ancients had lustier Appetites, and stronger Digestions, than the Moderns, and their Poets cooked thei● Messes accordingly, they did not stand to make minced Meat, or artificially to steal in their Ribaldry, and disguise it in nice Ragou's after the modern way; they were for whole Services, substantial Treats of Bawdy. Nor do I find, that it recoiled upon the Stomaches of the generality of their Guests for many Ages together. The Reader I suppose will immediately guests that I mean the Ludi Scenici, 
Their Mi●i.  which made the Amours of their Gods, and Heroes their subject, in which the lewdest actions were represented in the lewdest manner, and sung in the most fulsome luscious Verse. Upon our Stage no such Practices are allowed, if a light wanton thought happens to creep into a Song, 'tis not suffered to show its face bare, but is presently masked, and clothed decently in Metaphor, that many would not suspect the modesty of it, and even the most squeamish can't take offence without offering violence; for it comes into your Company like a bashful young sinner, she's civil company amongst sober people.  
The Ancients, 'tis plain, were not by abundance so scrupulous; if they had, those lewd Drolls had never been composed, much less represented. But they were for all naked, without the vail of Figure or Dress, they required Nudities in Speech, as well as Action, the Audience went away with satisfaction, and the Poet with applause.  
By this we may see, that our Stage upon the comparison is not so rampantly lewd, as Mr. Collier represents it, nor the ancient so inoffensive. To dilate upon this head, would be both improper and impertinent; but these few hints, which, all that are acquainted with the practice of the Roman Stage, know to be true, whether Mr Collier does or not, may suffice to show what an unfair Adversary the Stage has met with; and to prove that he is not an upright, or not a competent Judge of these matters, in which he unauthorised undertakes to determine, and arrogantly obtrudes his false Judgement upon us.  
Another of his objections to the Stage in general, 
P. 281.  is their dilating so much upon the Argument of Love.  
Upon this article he is very lavish of his Rhetoric, 
His Objections from the Topick of Love, a Declamatory Rant.  and lays about him in Tropes and Figures, he is got into his old road of declamation, and posts Whip and Spur thro' his Common place upon the subject. His fancy, like a Runaway-horse, has got the Bit between her Teeth, and ramps over Hedge and Ditch, to the great danger of his Judgement; no bars or fences of sense or reason can stop her Career, till jaded and out of Wind she flags of herself. Here then, let us come up with him.  
I don't say the Stage fells all before 'em, and disables the whole Audience: 
P. 282.  'Tis a hard Battle, where none escape. However, their Triumphs and their Trophies are unspeakable. Neither need we much wonder at the matter. They are dangerously prepared for Conquest and Empire. There's Nature, and Passion, and Life in all the circumstances of their Action. Their Declamation, their Mein, their Gestures, and their Equipage, are very moving and significant. Now when the Subject is agreeable, a lively representation, and a passionate way of expression, make wild work, and have a strange force upon the Blood and Temper.  
What means all this unseasonable Cry Fire, 
Mere Frenzy.  Fire, where there is not so much as a spark? If the Audience were mere Tinder, they were out of danger. Sure the Author had Wildfire in his Brains, that the thoughts of the Players could put him into such an uproar. 'Tis granted the Actresses may appear to advantage upon the Stage, and yet their Triumphs and Trophies not be so unutterable neither. For as dangerously as they are prepared for Conquest and Empire, the highest of their acquests, that I could ever hear of, was a good keeping, which has fallen to the share of but a few of 'em; when multitudes of their Sex have arrived at greater matters without any such formidable preparations. However, here's Mein, and Equipage, and the Author seems afraid, lest the raw Squires of the Pit should take 'em for Quality in earnest, and be dazzled with the lustre of the inestimable Treasure of Glass, and Tinsel, and so catch the real Itch of Love from their counterfeit Scrubbado. And truly there's as much reason to fear, they should be pursued for their Fortunes, as their Love off the Stage.  
To answer this Rant of Whimsy and Extravagance seriously, were as ridiculous an undertaking as Hudibras' dispute with the Managers of his West Country Ovation, and by the sample we have of our Antagonist, the issue wou●d probably be as cleanly. But if any one thinks an answer to this charge necessary, he may see as much as it will bear, and more than it deserves, in a late Piece entitled, A Review of Mr. Collier ' s View, etc.  
He has yet another charge upon the Stage left, 
P. 283.  and that is their encouraging of Revenge. What is more common than Duels and Quarrelling, in their Characters of Figure? Those Practices, which are infamous in Reason, Capital in ●aw, and Damnable in Religion, are the Credit of the Stage. Thus Rage and Resentment, Blood and Barbarity are almost deified; Pride goes for Greatness, and Fiends and Heroes are made of the same metal. And thus the notion of Honour is mis-stated, the Maxims of Christianity despised, and the Peace of the World disturbed  
One would think he had found out another passage in Valerius Maximus, and that the Civilis Sangu●s was abroach again. But Rome contented him then, now nothing less than the Peace of the whole World must be disturbed about a Bauble. Sure he thinks all the World of the Country-Wife's opinion, that the Player Men are the finest folks in it.  
But so far is Revenge from being encouraged, 
Revenge not encouraged by the Stage.  or countenanced by the Stage, that to desire and prosecute it, is almost always the mark of a Tyrant, or a Villain, in Tragedy, and Poetic Justice is done upon 'em for it; it is generally turned upon their own heads, becomes the snare in which they are taken, and the immediate Instrument of their miserable Catastrophe. Thus in the Mourning Bride, Don Manuel, to glut his lust of Revenge, 
Instance in the mourning Bride.  puts himself into the Place and Habit of his unhappy Prisoner, in order to surprise, betray, and insult his own pious, afflicted Daughter, over the supposed Body of her Murdered Husband. In this posture Poetic Justice overtakes him, and he is himself surprised, mistaken for him whom he represented, and stabbed by a Creature of his own, the villainous Minister of his Tyranny, and his chief Favourite. Nothing is more common than this sort of Justice in Tragedy, than which nothing can be more diametrically opposite, or a greater discouragement to such barbarous Practices.  
Comedy indeed does not afford us many instances of this kind; 
Passion not proper in Comedy.  Rage and Barbarity are Crimes not cognizable by her; they are of too deep a Dye, and the Indictment against 'em must be preferred at another Bar. If she admits of any thoughts of Revenge, they must be such as spring from the lowest Class of Resentments; that flow rather from a weakness of Judgement, or a perverseness of Temper in the Parties that conceive 'em, than from the Justice of the Cause, or the greatness of the Provocation. Accordingly they aught to have no great malignity in 'em, they ought to spend themselves in little Machinations, that aim no farther than the crossing of an Intrigue, the breaking of a Match, etc. and never to break out into open violence, or ravage in Mischief. The Passions have little to do in Comedy, every one there according to his capacity acts by design, or carelessly gives himself up to his humour, and indulges his pleasure and inclinations. This equality of temper of Mind, with the diversity of Humours, is what makes the business of Comedy. For while this general calm lasts, all busily pursue their several inclinations; and by various ways practise upon one another. And the Man of Pleasure follows his design upon the rich Knave's Wife, or Daughter, while the other is working into his Estate. The Cully is the Sharper's Exchequer, and the Fop the Parasite's, or Jilt's, &c. which, were the Passions too much agitated, and the Storm raised high, would become impracticable; the Commerce would be broken off, and the Plot wholly frustrated. Besides that both the Thoughts and Actions of Men, very much disordered by Passion, or filled with too deep Resentments, are naturally violent and outrageous, and absolutely repugnant to the Genius, and destructive of the End of Comedy.  
I grant that some Passions, 
Love, Jealousy, etc. how to be used in Comedy.  such as Love, Jealousy, Anger, are frequently, and sometimes justly employed in Comedy; but then they are to be kept under, and must not be suffered to get the Ascendant, and domineer over Reason; if they do, they are no longer Comic Passions. Love must not carry 'em beyond Gallantry, and Gaiety of Spirit in the Pride of Success, nor further than a light disquiet, such as may excite their Industry, and whet their Invention under disappointments. Jealousy must not hurry 'em beyond their Cunning, or make their Impatience betray their Plot. Nor must their Anger break out into Flames, and push 'em upon rash unadvised Actions. Such Revenges therefore, as are the result of Passions so moderated, and circumstantiated, are allowable in Comedy; which can never produce any such terrible effects, as to deserve all these furious Claps of Thunder, which Mr Collier has discharged upon 'em.  
Horace indeed tells us, that Comedy will raise its voice sometimes, and scold, and swagger violently.  

Interdum tamen & Vocem Comoedia tollit, 
Hor. Art. Poet.   
Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore.   
But this very Instance shows, 
Exposition of Horace's Observation.  that the Passion of Comedy should proceed no farther than Scolding, or Menaces. Nor do these fit every one's mouth, a Father, a Husband, or a Master, when they conceive their Authorities to be outraged, may be allowed to vent their Indignation, to unload their Stomaches, and in the discharge of their Choler to break out into expressions of Threatening, or Reproach. But this is not to be allowed upon slight Provocations, or to every Person in Comedy, who by their Place and Character can pretend to no such Power, or Authority. These Rants of Passion are not to be indulged amongst Equals in Comedy, much less to Inferiors; because such provocations naturally produce effects too great, and too like Tragedy.  
Chremes, in the Heautontimorumenos of Terence, who is produced by Horace as an example of the height of Comic Passion, 
Instance from Terence ex  was a Husband, a Father, and a Master, injured (at least in his own Opinion) and abused in all these capacities by his Wife, his Son, and his Slave; his Authority slighted, and what was worse, his Understanding, (of which he was not a little conceited) affronted, and He practised upon, and made a Cully of by his Son, and his Slave, even in the exaltation of his Wit, and Cunning, by his own Plot and Management. These were provocations as high as Comedy could well admit, and consequently the rage, which they must naturally produce in a man of his Temper, and Opinion of his own Prudence, must be in proportion. Yet, what follows? Chremes does not lose his Reason in his Anger, 
* Hic, ita ut liberos est 〈…〉 contutabitur. Sed Syrum— Si vivo adeo exornatum dabo, adeo depexum, ut dum vivat meminerit semper mei: Qui sibi me pro ridiculo, ac delectamento putat. Non (ita me Dio ament) auderet facere haec Viduae mulieri, Quae in me fecit.  His Son (he tells you) shall be reduced by Words to Reason: But as for Syrus, that Rogue, that had made him his Sport and his Laughingstock, he would take such care of him, and put him in such a Trim, he should not dare to put his tricks upon a Widow hereafter, as he had done upon him. What is there in all this, that Mr Collier with all his Scruples about him can quarrel with? 'Tis true, a Scene or two after he falls upon his Son, in very opprobrious terms, and calls him Drunkard, Blockhead, Spendthrift, Rakehell, etc. But his Fury spends itself in a few words, and he comes immediately to composition with his Son, and is easily wrought to forgive even Syrus too, so that all his fury is spent, not to revenge the affront received, but to reclaim his Son.  
But Mr Collier's Resentments are of another Nature; 
P. 283. Tragedy in the Judgement of Aristotle.  Rage, Blood and Barbarity are the Ingredients of 'em, and consequently they're no composition for the Ingredients of Comedy; and Tragedy, as we have already shown, is no encourager of 'em, but just the contrary. I can't see how he can make 'em to be of the proper growth of the Stage. For Tragedy, by giving 'em so odious a Dress and Air, and so calamitous a Catastrophe, as it always does, takes the most effectual course absolutely to eradicate 'em, and to purge the minds of the Audience of those turbulent Guests. Upon this Prospect it was, that Aristotle pronounced so largely in favour of Tragedy, That it made Terror and Compassion the instruments, 
Arist. P●et. lib. cap. 6. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. P. 283. Du●●g and Rencounters against the Nature and Laws of Comedy.  by which it purified and refined those very Passions in us, and all of the like nature.  
But, if Tragedy be no Encourager of such Disorders, much less can Comedy, which meddles not at all with 'em, be with any colour of Justice accused. Comedy has nothing to do with either Fiends, or Heroes, whatever Stuff, or Metal they may be made of. 'Tis indeed a Fault to bring Duels and Rencounters upon the Comic Stage, from which some of our Poets can't excuse themselves. But 'tis a Fault rather against the rules of Poetry, and true Dramatic Writing, than those of Morality. For, in Poetry as well as Painting, we are obliged to draw after the life, and consequently to copy as well the Blemishes as the Beauties of the Original; otherwise the finest colours we can bestow, are no better than gay daubing. The fault therefore of the Poet lies not in showing the imperfections of any of his Persons, but in showing them improperly, and in the wrong place, which is an Error of his Judgement, not his Morals, and would be as great if he should untowardly produce in Comedy the highest Examples of Heroic Virtue and Fortitude.  
An Instance of this kind we have in the Comical Revenge, 
Duel in Love in a Tub, against the rules of Comedy.  or Love in a Tub, of Sir George Etherege, in which the Duel, and the Action of Bruce after it are of a strain above Comedy. Those niceties of Honour, and extravagancies of Jealousy and Despair are unnatural on the Comic Stage; and the Rescue from the Ruffians, for which Bruce in the same Scene is obliged to his Rival, however brave and generous an action it may appear, considered simply in itself, is a trespass against Justice and Propriety of Manners in that place. Indeed that whole Walk of the Play, and the set of Characters peculiarly belonging to it, are more nearly related to the Buskin, than the Sock, and render the Play one of those which we improperly call Tragicomedies. The other Walk, as 'tis one of the most diverting, so 'tis one of the most natural, and best contrived that ever came upon the Stage.  
This may suffice to show that a Comic Poet can't trespass against the Laws of Morality in this nature, without offending against the Laws of his own Art; and consequently that such a fault ought rather to be looked upon as an Error of his Judgement than of his Will, which may deserve the correction of a Critic, but not of a Moralist.  
But supposing that a Writer of Comedy 
Comic Poet obliged to draw according to nature.  should (as many of 'em have done) either thro' want of Skill or Caution in the conduct and management of his Plot, so embroil his Gentleman as to reduce him to the hard choice either of accepting or refusing a challenge, the question is, whether the Poet ought to allow him to accept, or answer it, like (what the World calls) a Man of Honour, or to introduce him and his Friend playing the Casuists like Philotimus and Philalethes, 
Collier's Moral E●say about Duelling.  and argue him out of his resentments. In this case the Poet's business is to draw his Picture, not to inform his Conscience; which would be as ridiculous in him, as for Sir Godfrey Kneller to set up for taking Confessions, and inquire into the Principles of any man, in order 〈◊〉 true draught of his Face. The Poet, as well as the Painter is to follow, not to pretend to lead Nature: and if custom and common practice have already determined the Point, whether, according to Equity, or not, the Poet exceeds his Commission, if he presumes to run counter to 'em. So that if a Comic Poet be so far overseen, as to bring his Gentlemen into the Field, or but so far towards it as a Challenge, there is no taking up the matter without action, or (which is all one to Mr Collier's objection) showing a readiness, and disposition for it on both sides. And the Poet stands in need of all his Skill, and Address to save their Honour, and reconcile 'em without engagement.  
Since therefore both by the nature of his subject, 
No breach of Morality without offending against the Laws of the Stage.  and the rules of his art, a Dramatic Poet is limited, and obliged, he can't reasonably be charged with any thing, as a trespass against Morality, in which he does not offend likewise against them. For Dramatic Poetry, like a Glass, ought neither to flatter, nor to abuse in the Image which it reflects, but to give them their true colour and proportion, and is only valuable for being exact. If therefore any man dislikes the Figures, which he sees in it, he finds fault with Nature, not the Poet, if those Pictures be drawn according to the life; and he might as justly snarl at the wise Providence which governs the world, because he meets more ugly Faces than handsome ones, more Knaves and Fools than Honest and Wise men in it, and those too, generally more prosperous and fortunate.  
But because some of those Gentlemen, that have taken pains to proclaim War against the present Stage, and have published their censures of it, seem to have no true Idea of the business of a Dramatic Poet, and have arraigned some of the present Writers for the Stage, either through malice or misunderstanding, of high crimes and misdemeanours, in many particulars for doing those things which the duty of a Poet obliged 'em to; it may not be amiss, for the information of Mr Collier more especially, and those whom his furious misgrounded invectives may have misled, to inquire into the nature and Laws of Stage Poetry, and the Practice of it, both among the Ancients and Moderns, as far as concerns Morality, and the depending Controversy only, and no farther.  
And here we may join issue with Mr Collier, 
P. 1. Mr Collier in his end of Stage Poetry.  and allow, that The business of Plays is to recommend Virtue, and discountenance Vice; To show the Uncertainty of Humane Greatness, the sudden turns of Fate, and the unhappy Conclusions of Violence and Injustice. 'Tis to expose the Singularities of Pride and Fancy, to make Folly and Falshood contemptible, and to bring every thing that is Ill under Infamy and Neglect.  
Thus we set out together, 
Mistaken in his method of prosecuting that end.  and are agreed upon the end of our Journey, but we differ about the road to it. Here therefore we part, and whether we shall meet again is the question. Mr Collier, by the tenor of his discourse thro' the whole Book, seems to think, that there is no other way of encouraging Virtue, and suppressing Vice, open to the Poets, but declaiming for or against 'em, and would therefore have Plays to be nothing but mere Moral Dialogues, wherein five or six persons should meet, and with abundance of Zeal and Rhetoric preach up Virtue, and decry Vice. Hereupon he falls upon the Poets with all the Rage and Fury imaginable, for introducing in their Plays vicious Characters, such as in Tragedy, Tyrants, Treacherous Statesmen, Crafty Priests, Rebellious Subjects, etc. In Comedy, Libertines, Whores, Sharpers, Cullies, Fops, Pimps, Parasites, and the like.  
Now, whether this conduct of the Poets, or his Censure of it be more justifiable, is the subject of our Enquiry. To facilitate which, it will be proper to establish some certain Standard, by which we may measure the Morality or Immorality of a Dramatic Poem, and try thereby some of the most celebrated Pieces, as well of the Ancients as Moderns; that their Beauties and Deformities of this kind, either absolute or respective, may appear either severally, or upon collation, and the Poet be accordingly justified or condemned.  
The Parts therefore of a Play, 
Morals of a Play wherein shown. Poet. c. 6. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  in which the Morals of the Play appear, are the Fable, the Characters, and the Discourse. Of these the Fable (in Tragedy especially) is the most considerable, being (according to Aristotle) the Primum Mobile by which all the other parts are acted and governed, and the principal Instrument by which the Passions are weeded and purged, by laying before the Eyes of the Spectators examples of the miserable Catastrophe of Tyranny, Usurpation, Pride, Cruelty, and Ambition, etc. and to crown suffering Virtue with Success and Reward, or to punish the unjust Oppressors of it with Ruin and Destruction.  
In Comedy, 
Folly and Knavery, the Subjects of Comedy.  as it acts in a lower Sphere, so the Persons are less considerable. Knaves, Misers, Sots, Coquets, Fops, Jilts and Cullies, all which Comedy corrects by rendering 'em unsuccessful, and submitting them in her Fable, to the Practices and Stratagems of others, after such a manner, as to expose both Knavery, Vanity, and Affectation, in the conclusion, or winding up, to the Scorn and Derision of the Spectators. And thus by making Folly and Knavery ridiculous to the View, Comedy gains her end, stops the contagion, and prevents the imitation more effectually than even Philosophy herself, who deals only in Precept can do, as Horace, and before him Aristotle have observed, by presenting that lively to the Sight, which the other can only inculcate in words.  
Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures, 
De Art. Poet.   
Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus.  
Thus while in the large Forest of Humane Affections, Tragedy labours to fallen those sturdy overgrown Plants the Passions, Comedy employs itself in grubbing up the underwood of Vice, Folly and Affectation; and if its Operations are of less importance than those of the former, they make ample amends by their more extended, and almost universal Influence.  
But this it seems is not the design of the Modern Stage Poets; 
Praef. Pag. 1, 2.  Virtue and Regularity are their Great Enemies; and to promote Lewdness and Atheism, and to destroy Principles is their business, if we may believe Mr Collier, who has taken abundance of malicious Pains to incense the World against 'em; and like an experienced Incendiary, not only gives the Fire, and blows the Coals, but furnishes Fuel of his own too, to increase the Flame.  
To inflame the Reckoning of the Modern Poets, 
Mr. Collier's Character of the Ancient Poets invidious.  especially the English, by the comparison, he enlarges very much upon the great Modesty and Regard which the Ancients had to Virtue, and Decorum, falsely insinuating thereby as great Neglect and Violation of 'em among the Moderns. What he has said in Commendation of the Ancients, simply and abstractedly taken, without any Application of comparison, or relation to those that have exercised themselves the same way in this Age, and in our Country, may be allowed as their due; And Mr Collier's deference to the just merits of those great Genius's of Antiquity would turn to his own Praise, if it were paid only as a debt to Justice. But proceeding from a disingenuous design, invidiously to depreciate the worth, and blacken the reputation of others, the Justice is sunk in the Malice of it, and the venom couched under it gives an ill Complexion to the fairest Part of his Productions. That this was the motive that induced Mr Collier to speak honourably of the Stage Poets, is apparent from his perpetual grumbling, and snarling at 'em, ●ven in the midst of his most favourable account of 'em. For though upon many occasions he declares very largely in their favour, yet 'tis only to balance and sway the competition betwixt them and the Moderns on their side, and by raising the value of their Characters, to depress the others in the esteem of the World. This partiality will plainly appear upon the examination of some of those Pieces of Antiquity, which Mr Collier so justly commends, with some of those of later production, which he so unjustly decries.  
Mr Collier is not content to charge the English Poets with Faults of Negligence, 
Fable the principal part of a Play.  or even of licentious wantonness; but he treats 'em with the utmost despite, and brands 'em with the Infamy of a professed Hatred to Virtue, a studied Lewdness, and of subverting the end and use of their Art. If this were really their Aim, unquestionably the Fable, which is the Principal Part, and of greatest Influence and Operation, is contrived and modelled so as to be serviceable to their grand design. That this may more certainly appear, we shall take the Pains to analize some of those Plays, at which Mr Collier takes greatest offence, together with some of the most celebrated of Antiquity.  
The Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles has by the universal consent of the learned of all Ages, the greatest reputation of the Dramatic Performances of Antiquity, I shall therefore begin with that, and show that the Fable of that deservedly admired Piece is by no means so noble, instructive, and serviceable to Virtue, by its main or general Moral, as many of those Plays, against which and their Author's Mr Collier inveighs with so much Bitterness.  
The Fable of the Oedipus is this; 
Fable of the Oedipus of Sophocles.  Laius, the Father of Oedipus, and King of Thebes, was informed by an Oracle, that it was his fate to be slain by his own Son, who should be born of his Wife Jocasta. To elude the threats of the Oracle, Laius, as soon as the Child was born, delivers him to one of his Servants to be murdered. This man, moved to compassion by the innocence of the Babe, instead of taking away his life, perforating both his Feet, and passing a Bend thro' 'em, hanged him up by the Heels, and left him to the disposal of Providence. In this posture he was found by a Domestic of Polybus King of Corinth, who, taking him down, carried him to his Master, who being childless, received, educated, and owned him as his own. Oedipus being at length grown up, and being in a contest of words with a Corinthian, he reproached with his unknown Birth, and being a Foundling, of which till that moment he had by the express order of Polybus, been kept in ignorance, resolves to consult the Oracle at Delphi about his Parentage, and is ordered by the Oracle to seek no further, for that it was his destiny to kill his Father, and beget Children upon his Mother. Upon this answer, he resolves for ever to abandon Corinth, his supposed Country, and in order thereto, takes his way towards Thebes, and on the Road meets Laius, and a quarrel arising between 'em, he kills him, and all his followers, one excepted, to whom upon his supplication he gives quarter. Arriving at Thebes, he finds that City in great confusion, both for the loss of their King, whom he knew not to be the person slain by him upon the Road, and for the prodigious ravage and waste committed by the Monster Sphinx, who distressed 'em so, that they durst scarce stir out of their Walls. To rid themselves of the terror of this Monster, the Thebans offer their Queen and Crown to any man that could resolve the Riddle propounded by the Sphinx, upon the resolution of which only they were to be quit of her. This Oedipus, notwithstanding the miscarriage of divers before him, who failing in their attempt were destroyed by her, undertakes, and succeeding in it, the Monster breaks her own Neck, and he in reward, receives the Crown, and Queen to Wife. For some time Oedipus governs with great prudence, and has several Children by Jocasta. At length a furious Plague arising, and making great Havoc in the City, Oedipus deputes Creon to the Oracle, to consult about the Causes of, and Means to be delivered from the Pestilence.  
Thus far the History of Oedipus proceeds before the Action of the Play commences; and though the whole action of the Play naturally arises from this antecedent part, yet Sophocles had very artificially reserved it to be delivered by way of Narration at the unravelling of the Plot, which is the most natural and beautiful of all Antiquity. But what is only considerable to our purpose is, that hitherto Oedipus bears the character of a Just and a Wise man; and if he be involved in any thing that bears an appearance of Gild, invincible Ignorance (which the Schoolmen hold to be a good Plea) is his excuse.  
But if he is hitherto innocent of any intentional Gild, he is thro' the whole course of the Action exemplarily pious. At his first appearance upon the Stage, 
Piety of Oedipus.  he shows an extraordinary concern for the calamities of his Country, and an anxious solicitude for a Remedy. Jupiter's Priest addresses to him, as if he were their tutelar Deity, and tells him, that 'twas this miserable experiment of his being unable to relieve 'em, that had convinced him, and those with him, that he was not equal to the Gods, and had made 'em have recourse to their Altars.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
Sophocl. Oedip. Tyrann.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This was a bold compliment from a Priest, and the Priest of Jupiter too, the Sovereign of the Gods. But not to insist too much upon this Passage, Creon enters, and breaks off the Parley betwixt 'em; He brings word from the Oracle, that the Murderer of Laius must be expelled the Territories of Thebes. 
Oedipus ' Proclamation.  Who was this Murderer was yet a Secret, the Oracle not making that discovery. Oedipus hereupon summons a meeting of the People, and makes Proclamation, that if any one privy to the Fact would come in, and make a discovery, he should, if concerned therein, be indemnified in his Person, and be obliged only to leave Thebes. But that if he could inform of any other Person therein concerned, he should be liberally rewarded, and purchase his Favour by such Discovery. And if any one, conscious of this matter, did out of fear for himself or his Friend, obstinately refuse to break silence, he required all his Subjects not to give him harbour or sustenance, or to hold any manner of Commerce or Correspondence with him. After this he proceeds to imprecate the Actor or Actors of this Regicide, and extends the curse to his own House, if with his privity he was protected there.  
But this method failing to produce the desired effect, he consults Tiresias the Prophet, by whom Oedipus himself is accused of killing his Father, and committing Incest with his Mother; which Accusation being afterwards confirmed by the concurring report of the old Servant of Laius, by whom he was exposed in his Infancy, and of the Domestic of Polybus, despairing in the horror of these involuntary crimes, he tears out his own Eyes; and Jocasta, who equally ignorant was involved in the guilt of Incest, hangs herself.  
This Plot, 
〈…〉.  however noble and beautiful to admiration, for the Structure and Contrivance of it, is yet very deficient in the Moral, which has nothing great or serviceable to Virtue in it. It may indeed serve to put us in mind of the Lubricity of Fortune, and the Instability of human Greatness. And this use Sophocles himself makes of it; for the Chorus closes the Tragedy with this remark, by way of advice of the Audience, that they should not rashly measure any man's Felicity by his present Fortune, but wait his extremest Moment's, to make a true estimate of his Happiness.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉;  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Mr Dryden, 
Moral of the English Oedipus the same.  who has borrowed this Story from Sophocles, has summed up his Moral in the two concluding lines of his Play, in which not only the application seems to be the same, but the Lines themselves are a contracted Paraphrase of Sophocles own conclusion.  
Let none, though ne'er so virtuous, great, and high,  
Be judged entirely blest before they die.  
This Moral, as it carries nothing in it but a lazy, 
Merely speculative.  unactive speculation, can be no great Incentive to Virtue; so on the other hand, as it lays before us the Miseries and Calamitous Exit of a person of so Heroic Virtue, it seems to carry matter of discouragement along with it; since the most consummate Virtue meets with so disproportionate a return.  
But with Reverence to the Ashes of Sophocles, and submission to the better Judgement of Mr Dryden, 
Not very natural.  this does not seem to be the true and genuine Moral of this Fable. For according to this Moral, the misfortune of Oedipus ought to have been the result of a kind of negligent Oscitation in the Gods, and a loose administration of Providence. Whereas on the contrary it appears, that all the Actions of Oedipus, as well those that were Pious, Wise, and Brave, as those that were Criminal, or rather Unfortunate, were the necessary and unavoidable Consequences of a fixed decree of Fate, backed by several Oracles, carried on, and brought about by variety of Miraculous or Providential Incidents. This Tiresias seems to hint plainly to Oedipus, when he tells him.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Fortune herself, (or Fate) destroys  
And Oedipus himself, finding by the relation of Jocasta, that the circumstances of the death of Laius, agreed with those of the persons slain by him on the Road, and beginning to be convinced of his own guilt, ushers in his account of that action, with the fatal necessity that obliged him to leave his own Country; and relates his Piety, as 'twere by way of alleviation for what follows. He pleads, that being informed by the Oracle, that he should kill his Father, and commit Incest with his Mother, he had quitted the expectation of a Crown, and made himself a voluntary, and perpetual Exile from Corinth, to avoid the Crimes he was threatened with.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
The English Oedipus is more plain, and expresses himself more clearly in defence of his Innocence, even while he suspects himself to have been an Actor in the Tragedy of Laius.  
To you good Gods, I make my last appeal, 
Oed p. 39   
Or clear my Virtues, or my Crime reveal:  
If wand'ring in the Maze of Fate I run,  
And backward trod the paths I thought to shun,  
Impute my Errors to your own decree;  
My Hands are guilty, but my Heart is free.  
Here Oedipus seems to suspect the truth of the matter, and alleges his own Ignorance, and the decree of the Gods in his Justification; but the Ghost of Laius clears the point of Fatality, and makes a better Apology for Oedipus, than 'twas possible for him to do for himself.  
But he who holds my Crown, 
Oed. p. 33.  Oh must I speak?  
Was doomed to do what Nature most abhors;  
The Gods, foresaw it, and forbade his being,  
Before he yet was born. I broke their Laws.  
And clothed with flesh, the pre-existing Soul.  
Some kinder Power, too weak for destiny,  
Took pity, and endued his new formed Mass  
With Temperance, Justice, Prudence, Fortitude,  
And every kingly Virtue; but in vain.  
For Fate, that sent him hoodwinked to the world,  
Performed its work by his mistaken hands.  
These instances considered, together with the Order, Contrivance and Nature of the Fable, as well of the Greek, as the English Poem, will readily point out to us a greater Moral, and more naturally arising from the subject, than that which the two Poets have assigned. For it seems plainly to hold forth to us, the irresistible Power of Fate, 
Proper Moral.  and the Vanity of human Wisdom, when opposed to the immutable decrees of Providence, which converts to its own purposes, all our endeavours to defeat 'em, and makes our very Opposition subservient to its own designs.  
Seneca, 
Moral of Seneca  who has taken this Fable from Sophocles, with very little alteration, has however given this turn to the Application, in conformity to the Doctrine of the Stoics, who were the Predestinarians of Antiquity, and held as Ours do, a Fatality, that directed and controlled all human Actions, that all things came to pass by pre-ordination and invincible necessity, and that there was no such thing as a free Agent in the World.  
Some Learned Men are of opinion, 
Seneca the Philosopher supposed the Author.  that this Tragedy was written by Seneca the Philosopher, and this change of the Sophoclean Moral, in favour of his Principles, seems to be no despicable Argument on their side. But whether they be in the right or wrong, I can't but wonder that Mr Dryden should overlook this alteration, or rather amendment to Sophocles' Moral, it being the principal part of the Play, and the mark at which all is levelled. 
His Morals neglected by the Authors of the English Oedipus.  But perhaps Mr Dryden being justly prepossessed for the performance of Sophocles in preference to Seneca's, his aim was not so much to inquire after any improvements, as additions to Sophocles' design, and by that means let slip this, which was not to his purpose, which was to fit it up to the English Stage; for the use of which it needed not correction, so much as enlargement; the simplicity of the Original Fable and the Chasms, which the omission of the Chorus must necessarily make, requiring to be filled up, and supplied with an Vnderplot and proper Episodes. And indeed he seems to confess as much, when he says, that Seneca supplied 'em with no new hint but only a relation, 
Preface to Oedip.  which he makes of his Tiresias raising the Ghost of Laius.  
But having declared for the Moral of Seneca, as more natural than that of Sophocles, considering the disproportion both of Reputation and Merit of these two Authors in the Dramatic way, I must expect the censure of those Critics, that judge by wholesale, or hear-say, that will admit of no error in any Author, that themselves, or those, in whom they have an implicit Faith, admire; nor allow any Graces to him, that has not the good fortune to be their Favourite. I shall therefore produce Seneca's application at large in his own words, as I have already done Sophocles', and then back my opinion with an Observation or two, drawn from the state of the Fable, as it lies in these Authors, and leave 'em to the courtesy of the Reader.  
The last Song of the Chorus in Seneca, which is what the Poet delivers by way of Instruction, or Application to the Audience, runs thus.  
Cho. Fatis agimur: 
Senec. Oedip. p. 107.  cedite fatis.  
Non solicitae possunt curae  
Mutare rati stamina fusi.  
Quicquid patimur mortale genus,  
Quicquid facimus, venit ex alto:  
Servatque sua decreta colus  
Lachesis, dura revoluta manu  
Omnia certo tramite vadunt;  
Primusque dies dedit extremum,  
Non illa deo vertisse licet,  
Quae nexa suis currunt causis.  
It cuique ratus, prece non ulla  
Mobilis, ordo. Multis ipsum  
Timuisse nocet. Multi ad fatum  
Venere suum, dum fata timent.  
The sum of this is; 
Sum of Seneca's Moral.  That there is (according to the Doctrine of the Stoics) an overruling Providence, or Fate, that disposes and governs all things; That the Sources of men's Fortunes, and the Springs of their Actions are placed out of their reach, inaccessible to human Prudence, and inflexible to Entreaties; that they move in a constant course, inviolable even to the Gods themselves; that causes and their effects are inseparably linked, the first day (of Life) determining the last; that the Caution of many has been destructive to 'em, and that in shunning their Fate, they have run upon it.  
That this is the most natural Application, the very contrivance of the Fable in all these three Plays, will sufficiently make out. Seneca, and the English Authors have, in imitation of Sophocles, made the Parricide and Incest of Oedipus the proper Act, and Deed of Fate, of which he was only the unhappy and unwilling Instrument. Both his Father and himself had been forewarned, and had used their utmost endeavours to evade the calamities that threatened 'em. But those very efforts, however seemingly prudent, became the Snare in which they were taken, and the means of verifying the Prediction of the Oracle. For the exposing Oedipus in his Infancy, was the occasion of his Ignorance of his true Parents, and that Ignorance of all his ensuing miseries. All these Authors give us a high Idea of his Virtue and Prudence; and Seneca as well as the aforecited Authors, makes him sacrifice his Expectations of a Crown, and become a voluntary Exile out of an Abhorrence of those Crimes, which were predicted of him.  
Hic me Paternis expulit regnis Timor.  
This fear has banished me my Father's Realm.  
And when he had been accused of the murder of Laius, 
Oedipus' Justification of himself.  upon the Information of the Gods, he appeals to his own Conscience for his Innocence.  
Obiisse nostro Laium scelere autumant  
Superi Inferique sed animus contra innocens.  
Sibique melius quam Deis notus, negat.  
The Gods accuse me; but my guiltless mind  
The better Judge acquits me.  
And in the next Scene upon the news of Polybus' death, he cries out, 
Genitor sine ulla caede defunctus jacet,  
Testor, licet jam tollere ad caelum pie  
Puras nec ulla scelere metuentes manus.  
Extinct my Father by a Bloudless death!  
Now I may stretch to Heaven my guiltless hands  
Fearless of any stain.   
Thus they all agree to make him just and virtuous in his Intentions to an Heroic Pitch, 
Harmony of the Greek, Roman, and English Authors.  yet they involve him in a Fatal Necessity even before his Birth, of acting those things, to which in his Nature he had the greatest abhorrence, and make his Piety and Aversion to Wickedness, the very means to entrap and entangle him in that Gild, which he so industriously fled from, and which occasioned the Calamities, that afterwards befell both himself and Family.  
The structure and disposition of this Fable, 
Levity of Fortune not the occasion of the Fall of Oedipus.  afford no occasion of complaint, or reflection upon the Levity of Fortune, or the Instability of Human Affairs. For nothing is more evident, than the steady and regular administration of Providence thro' the whole course of the misfortunes of Oedipus, and his Family. Nothing befell them, which was not predicted long before hand, and of which they had not a terrible apprehension, as well as a certain Expectation. 
Opposition of Providence.  And when they bend their endeavours to defeat the decrees of Fate, such a manifest Series of Providential Incidents attends their management, as suffices not only to baffle their Cunning and Devices, but likewise to show the Uncontrolableness and Superiority of that Power, which influenced their Counsels, and served itself of their Presumption, as the immediate Instrument to accomplish, and effect its Purposes, and at the same time to demonstrate the Vanity of Humane opposition to the Will of Destiny.  
Had Laius submitted himself to the Pleasure of Providence, 
Presumption of Laius.  and not presumed to have thwarted the Divine Appointment, and triumphed over his Destiny, his Son had not been ignorant of his true Parentage; and being a person of Inclinations so extraordinary Virtuous, 'tis morally impossible he should willingly have incurred the guilt of two Crimes of so monstrous a Size as Parricide and Incest. Or had Oedipus submissively resigned himself to the Conduct and Direction of Fate; whatever his Regret and Abhorrence of his predicted Fortune had been, he had returned to Corinth, and his Patience, and Resignation had avoided that Misery, which his mistaken Piety and Opposition brought afterwards upon his head.  
This consideration may supply us with another Moral to this Fable, 
Another Moral.  different from any (that I know of) hitherto raised upon it by any Poet, either Ancient or Modern. It may instruct us, that the Will of Heaven is not to be disputed by Mortals, how severe soever, even to Injustice, the Conditions of it may seem to us; and that whoever sets up his own Wisdom in opposition to it, shall in that Presumption meet both his Crime and his Punishment.  
Nothing, if we consider it simply in itself, could be more heroically pious than the resolution of Oedipus to abandon a Crown, 
Presumption of Oedipus.  his Parents and Country, rather than suffer those Pollutions with which he was threatened. But if we consider the Impiety of advancing his own Judgement in his conceit above that of his Gods, and thinking by his own Wisdom, to reverse the immutable decrees of destiny, his Vanity deserved the heaviest chastisement. The same may be said of his Father. It may be objected, that this irresistible Predestination was not so universally received an Opinion among the Ancient Heathens, but that many held the contrary; and that consequently 'tis but supposing Oedipus one of the number, and my Moral falls to the ground. 
Oedipus in Sophocles, and the rest of the Tragedians a Predestinarian.  I grant it does so, if he were, but the contrary appears from the Story itself. For if Oedipus did not believe such a Fatality, why did he upon the credit of an Oracle, which must signify no more to him than one of Partridge, or Gadbury's Astrological Banters, leave his Friends, and his great Expectations? But this supposes him a rank Fool, to abdicate for a tale of a Tub, a Story that he did not believe▪ If he did believe, he ought not to escape the Censure and Punishment of a rash presumptuous man, for suffering his Vanity to triumph over his Faith, and daring upon an insolent opinion of his own Ability to insult his Religion, and hope ●o prevail against, and defeat the purpose of Fate.  
Some French Critics, 
French Moral.  that seem sensible of the defect of the Moral in Sophocles, have endeavoured to supply that want, by starting an imaginary Guilty, and impute as a Crime to Oedipus, his curiosity to know his Fate. I call it an imaginary Gild, because I think it is urged against him without Foundation. For certainly it could never be a Sin in him, when his Parentage was become doubtful to him, 
Necromancy a●d all sorts of Divination allowed by the Religion of the Heathens.  to have recourse to such means, as his Religion allowed, to clear up his doubts, and take off the Reproach that was thrown upon him. Divination was so far from being a Criminal Art among the Ancient Heathens, that it was practised with great Reputation in all its several kinds, and the Professors of any part of it, were esteemed as Prophets, and held in great veneration. It could not therefore be scandalous to consult 'em upon any occasion, much less the Oracle of Apollo; to repair to which, was thought an act of high Devotion, and was the constant Practice of all the Cities and States of Greece, upon all great and sudden Emergencies. But their mistake lies in raising a Christian Moral upon a Pagan bottom; to fill up, they have grafted a Doctrine many ages younger upon the old Stock, and pieced out a defect with an Absurdity.  
I am apt to think upon consideration, 
Conjecture at the Reasons that Induced the Authors of the English Oedipus to prefer the Greek Moral to the Latin.  that the Authors of the English Oedipus, in adhering to the simple old Greek Moral, acted rather by Judgement and Choice, than Oversight. For the Moral of Seneca, though more naturally deducible from the Story, is yet less serviceable, or (to speak more properly) more destructive to Practical Morality, as preaching up the Doctrine of absolute and universal Predestination, by which men are denied the liberty of so much as a thought, as free Agents, and are supposed to be acted, and worked like Machine's by an invisible, irresistible Agent, which winds 'em up like Watches, and orders their several Movements. This Doctrine, as it destroys all title to Merit from the best, so it takes off all fear of Gild from the most villainous actions, and must necessarily (if heartily believed) discourage men from the severer and more troublesome Duties of Religion, and Morality at least, and dispose them to resign themselves loosely up to the government of their Appetites, and indulge their sensual Inclinations; to gratify which could be no sin, to oppose 'em no Virtue, and deserve neither blame nor thanks, according to this Principle.  
Besides the unserviceableness of this Moral to the general end of Dramatic Poetry, 
Seneca's Moral 〈◊〉 proper for the English Stage.  it was upon that Score disabled for the particular service of the English Stage, where it could not hope for a favourable Reception; and might therefore be by these Authors judiciously rejected. For though this Musty Rag of Heathen Stoicism be still worn by a Party amongst us, that affect to distinguish themselves by Opposition, and Contradiction, though to their own Principles, and that pretend to act contrary to the natural result of their Opinion, and profess a severer Morality than their Neighbours; yet by the more Polite and Civilised Part of the Nation, who are the chief Frequenters, and Support of the Dramatic Performances, it has been long left off, as a Principle destructive to Humanity, Virtue, and all good Manners; and consequently would have been exploded upon the Stage, and hazarded the success of the whole Piece.  
But whether this Moral were neglected by 'em out of design or oversight, 
Greek and Roman Moral unservi●●● to virtue.  is not much to our purpose. 'Tis evident, that neither the Greek nor Latin Moral, have any tendency to the promotion of Virtue, and the Reformation of Manners, but rather to the contrary. So that if Mr Collier has any thing of this Nature to object against any of the present Stage Poets, they may defend, or at least excuse such a slip by this Precedent, which being the Masterpiece not only of Sophocles, but of all Antiquity; for that reason, I hope Mr Collier (who has already declared, 
P. 28  that this Author has nothing but what is great and solemn throughout) will not charge him with any ●ill design, or acting upon Malice prepense against Virtue. But if he should, he has already taken his Trial before Aristotle, a more competent and more upright Judge, and stands acquitted on Record, and must be allowed to be rectus in Curia.  
I have been the more particular in examining the general Moral of this Play, 
Oedipus, why so mi●●●ly examined.  and have considered not only what has been made of it, but what might have been drawn from it, that I might for the remainder be excused from the trouble of descending to minute circumstances, and for the future be allowed to sum up what I have to say to any other Plays of Antiquity upon this general head of the Fable, and so proceed to our Poets, with whom also I shall be as brief as the matter will allow me.  
The rest of Sophocles' Plays, being much less considerable for their Success in the World, I shall dispatch the consideration of 'em in as few words as possible. His Ajax Flagellifer stands first in order, and affords us no great matter to reflect upon.  
Ajax, 
Fable of of Ajax Flagelli●er.  disappointed and disgraced in his suit for the Arms of Achilles, resents extremely the Injury and Indignity, and resolves to be revenged upon the whole Grecian Army. In order thereto he makes a Sally from his Quarter by night, in order to kill all the Principal Officers. Minerva, to divert the mischief intended, infatuates him, and turns him lose upon some herds of Cattle, amongst whom, mistaking 'em for Greeks, he makes most terrible havoc; and returning to his Tent and Senses in the morning, he perceives his Error, thro' the confusion, shame, and vexation of which, he grows desperate, falls upon his Sword, and dies. This is the whole of the Fable. For the contest that follows between Teucer, Menelaus, and Agamemnon, is an Episode detached from, and has nothing to do with, and scarce any dependence upon the main Action.  
Here we see a man of Impetuous, Ungovernable Passion, and of a Nice, Capricious Honour, that conceives himself injured in the most sensible part, his honour, and meditates a Revenge proportioned to the Fierceness of his Temper, and the imagined Greatness of the Affront. Minerva interposes, and turns his Rage, and Fury, first to his further disgrace, and then to his destruction.  
The Moral of this Play is not very obvious, 
Moral somewhat obscare.  and Sophocles himself does not hint it at or near the conclusion of the Play, but leaves it to be picked out by the Audience, or Readers; which may be done two ways. First, By considering the Quality of the Instrument of Engine of Ajax's Ruin, which was a Goddess; and the manner of bringing it about, which was by making him ridiculous thro' a Deceptio Visus, or an Illusion of the Sight; and then the Moral will be, 
Quos Deus vult perdere, 
Moral.  prius dementat.  
When the Gods resolve upon a man's ruin, they make away his Wits.   
Or 2dly, We may consider the Character of the Person, a man of Undaunted Boldness, and Turbulent Headstrong Passions, and the Nature of his Attempt, which was to kill all the Grecian Chiefs; and then the Moral may be  
— Qui non moderabitur Irae 
2d Moral.   
Infectum volet esse Dolor quod suaserit.—  
He that suffers himself to be precipitated into action by his Rage, will have cause to rue the effects of it.  
The first of these is the most genuine, and natural. For the misfortune of Ajax seems not to arise so much from a repentance of his Undertaking, as from indignation, and a bitter sense of the Scorn and Contempt he had drawn upon himself by so ridiculous a miscarriage, and the trick put upon him by Minerva. 
Moral of the Author not arising naturally from the Action.  This is all that naturally arises from the Action; and the Author, who seems sensible of the barenness of his Plot, forages without his lines to subsist his Moral. By this means he has provided himself of a noble Moral, which he intimates in the close of the first Scene, betwixt Minerva and Ulysses, where the Goddess, after having informed Ulysses how she had besotted Ajax, advises him to take warning, and not to be so far transported upon any good Fortune, or presume so far upon his own Prowess as to provoke the Gods by insolent Language; who loved Modesty, and hated Arrogance. And about the middle of the Play, a Messenger relates to the Chorus, what passed between Chalcas and Teucer about the quarrel, and hatred of Minerva to Ajax, Which was for presuming upon the sufficience of his own Strength and Courage, and refusing her Protection and Assistance, which she offered him against the Trojans. But this is wholly without the Action (which cannot properly suggest any such thing) and is introduced by way of Narration, only to justify the proceeding of Minerva against Ajax, and is no longer insisted on after the death of Ajax.  
The other Moral, 
2d Moral not very natural.  as it does not seem to flow so naturally from the Fable, as the first, so it seems never to have been in Sophocles' thoughts. For the last disgrace, and the Desperate Action that followed it, are the effect of a supernatural Agent, (viz.) Minerva, and produced by a sudden Infatuation after a supernatural manner; and therefore the Poet could have no just occasion to reflect upon the natural ill consequences of Passion, how outrageous or ungovernable soever. For this reason I shall pursue the consideration of it no farther.  
The next in order is the Electra, 
Fable of the Electra.  in which there is scarce the shadow of a Plot, nor much more of a Moral. Orestes (who after the murder of his Father Agamemnon, had by the care of his Sister Electra escaped the fury of his Mother Clytaemnestra and her Paramour Aegisthus,) comes to Argos with his Tutor, whom he sends to deceive his Mother with a Shame Story of his Death, and in the mean time discovers himself to his Sister, with whom he consults about means to revenge the Death of his Father; is introduced to his Mother as a stranger, kills her, and afterwards Aegisthus.  
Thro the whole Play the Poet does not so much as squint toward a Moral, he lets nothing fall by which the Audience may so much as guests what he drives at. But by the contrivance of the Fable, wherein a Wife, that had embrued her hands in her Husband's blood, after having abused his Bed, is, together with her Adulterer and Fellow Murderer, after a succession of some years of prosperous Villainy, overtaken by Vengeance from the hands of the Son, and slain; we may conclude with Horace, 
Raro antecedentem scelestum  
Deseruit pede paena claudo. 
Moral.   That Divine Vengeance seldom fails to overtake great Villainies.  
This is all the Moral that I can find in this Play, nor do I perceive that Sophocles himself took care by any overt Expression to intimate it to the Audience.  
The Antigone is something better contrived. 
Fable of the Antigone.  Antigone, contrary to Creon's order, buries her Brother Polynices. Creon order her to be shut up in a Cave alive, and commands, that no body should relieve her. Haemon his Son pleads for her, and unable to prevail, goes to the Cave, and finds that Antigone his Mistress had hanged herself. In the interim Tiresias comes to Creon, and tells him, that he did amiss, and that he ought with all expedition to repair his Fault. Creon continues obstinate, and reviles the Prophet, who returns the compliment, and threatens Creon with the calamities that should come immediately upon his Family for his Impiety and Obstinacy, and so leaves him. Creon after his departure relents, and makes haste to save Antigone, but comes too late, and finds his Son raving for the loss of his Mistress, and hardly escapes being killed by him. Haemon kills himself, and his Mother upon the News herself.  
Here Sophocles speaks out for himself, 
Moral.  and tell his Audience what Judgement they are to make of these surprising Events, which had in a moment overturned a flourishing Family. The Chorus in the Conclusion says 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.—   
Wisdom is the first step to Happiness. The Gods must not be irreverently treated. For the great Punishments, that attended the Profane liberties of speech of Insolent Men, were Lessons of Humility at last.  
The Oedipus Coloneus is a Play, 
Oedipus' Coloneus.  that we are told was very much admired at Athens; and it is no great wonder. For it was written on purpose to Flatter, and do honour to the Athenians, and therefore could scarce fail of a good reception. This Policy of Sophocles will furnish us with both a Plot, and a Moral, which 'twill otherwise be hard to find in this Play. The Poet was now in his old age, and had long outlived Mr Dryden's Fumbling Age of Poetry, and perhaps began to be sensible of some decay, and therefore to support the weight of that reputation, which he had acquired in the vigour of his Poetry, he pieces out the Lion's Skin with the Fox's Tail, and suspecting his own power to move their Passions as formerly, makes use of their Vanity to screw them up to the desired pitch of Admiration and Satisfaction. This, if the Reader pleases, may serve instead of a Plot, and the success of it may afford us this Moral; that no people is so strongly fortified against Flattery, but that, if their Vanity be skilfully tickled, it will be roused, and exert itself in favour of the Flatterer.  
This is, indeed, beside the Action, and in probability was not the Moral, which Sophocles intended for the Public; but 'tis plain, that 'twas the secret Motive upon which he acted, and the genuine Moral of his Conduct.  
The Fable of Oedipus Coloneus, 
Fable of Oedipus Coloneus  such as it is in this. Oedipus, under the Conduct of his Daughter Antigone, arrives at a Grove near Athens consecrated to the Furies, whither he had been directed by the Oracle to go. Creon, endeavours to fetch him away by force; Theseus intervenes, and rescues him. Oedipus dies at last in the place appointed by Fate and the Oracle.  
This is a plain story, 
No Moral.  without either Turn or Consequence, upon which there is no possibility of raising a Moral. Sophocles seems to have endeavoured at something like one in the Conclusion. For when the Daughters of Oedipus lamented immoderately his death, the Chorus tells 'em, That they ought not to bewail any longer one that was come to his desired end.  
The Trachiniae seems almost as little contrived for Edification as the foregoing. 
Trachiniae its Fable.  Dejanira being informed that Hercules grew amorous of his Captive Jowl, to retrieve and ensure his Affection to her, sends by Lichas an envenomed Shirt, which she supposed to have been dipped in a Philtre. This unhappy Present being upon his Back, immediately corroded the Flesh in such manner, that in a rage he dashed out Lichas the Bearers Brains. Dejanira hearing the Fatal Effects of her Error, kills herself. Hercules having charged his Son Hyllus to marry his Concubine Jowl, burns himself.  
The reflection that Sophocles makes upon all this, 
Moral of Sophocles.  is, that, 'tis all Jupiter' s doing. Hyllus, in the close, boldly accuses the Gods of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifies Folly or Injustice.  Injustice, for deserting their own Offspring. He adds, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
These things are a heavy Affliction to us,  
But a scandal to them.   
The Chorus seconds his Complaint, and says, that all their Calamities are of Jupiter' s sending.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
This Fable and Application afford very little matter of Moral Instruction; and the use that the Poet himself makes of it, is rather a discouragement to Virtue, since neither the Heroic Qualities, nor Actions of Hercules, nor the relation to Jupiter, could exempt himself or Family from such lamentable disasters.  
However, the misfortune of Dejanira may serve as a caution against Jealousy and Adultery, which two failings in conjunction, occasioned her ruin. And Hercules himself may be an instance of the dangerous consequenees of a licentious ungoverned Flame, which at last was the destruction of him, who had withstood, and baffled the utmost Malice and Invention of Juno.  
The Fable of the Philoctetes is this. 
Philoctetes, the Fable.  Philoctetes having an incurable Ulcer in his Foot, from the bite of a Serpent in his Voyage to Troy, was deserted, and left by the Greeks alone upon the desert Shore of Lemnos. But his Presence being declared absolutely necessary to the taking of Troy, Ulysses and Pyrrhus are sent to fetch him. He refuses obstinately to go along with 'em, but Hercules appearing, and persuading him, he complies.  
This likewise is a barren Story, 
No Moral.  of which Sophocles himself has made no moral Use, and has scarce given occasion for any one else to do it.  
Philoctetes had been barbarously exposed by his Confederates the Greeks, for which he was irreconcilably angry with 'em, especially Ulysses, who had been the Executioner of their Resolutions in relation to him. He therefore refuses obstinately to go with, or to those that had served him so basely; but Hercules appearing, and telling him, that upon those terms, and no other, he must expect his cure, and prosperity, the man had so much Wit in his Anger, as to prefer Health and Fame before sullen Revenge, which must be his own as well as their disappointment.  
Mr Collier would pass the Speech of Hercules upon us for a Moral. 
Speech of Hercules not pertinent to the Action. P. 93.  But by his leave, how remarkably Moral soever the Conclusion of this Play may be, the morality of it no way depends upon the Action foregoing. Hercules prevails with Philoctetes to go with Ulysses, and Pyrrhus promises him Health, Honour, and Riches, and recommends the care of Religion to him. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Which, says he, Jupiter regards above all things.  
This was indeed good advice, and matter of Instruction to the Audience, as well as Philoctetes; but not arising any way from the main Action, it might as properly have been said at any other time, and upon any other occasion, as this; and if it must serve for a Moral, might as justly have been the Moral of any other Play.  
Thus I have run through Sophocles, 
Ibid.  whose Plays (by Mr Collier ' s own confession) are formed upon Models of Virtue, join Innocence with Pleasure, and design the Improvement of the Audience.  
Upon this account, and the great Reputation of this Author, I have been more particular with him upon this head, than I design to be with any of the rest of the Ancient Tragedians. I have set before the Reader the several Models of all his remaining Plays, and have enquired into the Disposition of the Fable in relation to the service of Morality, that upon collation we may with more certainty measure the comparative Morality of his and the Modern Plays on this Article.  
Euripides, 
Art. Poet. Cap. xiii.  who came nearest him both in Time and Reputation, is yet more defective in this point. Aristotle has taxed him with want of Conduct in the Oeconomy of his Fable; but this Censure being levelled rather at the want of Artifice, than of Moral in the Plays of Euripides, I shall make no further use of it here. The character of this Author's works would make us naturally expect, that he should be more careful of this Article, than either Aeschylus, or Sophocles, who aimed more at the Pathetic. The Plays of Euripides betray all along an affected Ostentation of Learning, 
Character of the Plays of Euripides in general.  and as great an Ambition to be thought a Philosopher, as a Poet. For this reason he abounds more in Points, and Sentences of Morality, florid Harangues, and subtle Speculations, than Sophocles; but he does not touch the Passions, or raise the Concern of an Audience like him. And therefore whatever we may think of his Dialogues considered separately, and independent of one another, his Plays in the aggregate are far inferior to those of Sophocles.  
Euripides has yet remaining nineteen Tragedies, to examine all which, as we have done those of Sophocles, would be an impertinent, as well as a tedious labour, both to the Reader and myself. I shall therefore content myself to instance in a few of 'em, and refer those that have the Curiosity and Patience, to proceed further to the Author himself.  
The Orestes challenges the first place upon the score of its Reputation, and the great Success it had on the revival of it, five hundred years after the death of the Author.  
This play commences, 
Fable of the Orestes  where the Electra of Sophocles and his own conclude. Orestes, by the help of his Sister Electra, having slain his Mother, is very much troubled in mind, and haunted by Furies, and desponds upon the account of his Gild. Tyndarus, his Mother's Father, endeavours to revenge her death, and excites the People against him, who vote him to be stoned to death with his Sister. Menelaus, with his Wife Helena, and Daughter Hermione, arrives in the mean time and offers his assistance to his Nephew in this exigence, but is overawed by Tyndarus, and deserts his Party. Pylades comes opportunely, and persuades Orestes to appear, and make his defence in person, which he does, but without success, yet upon his promise that his Sister and himself shall be their own Executioners, he is let go by the Mob upon Parole. Being returned to his Sister, they consult about means of Safety. Electra advises him and Pylades to seize upon Helen and Hermione, to kill Helen, and to Article with Menelaus for their own safety, with a Sword at Hermione's Throat; and if her Father would not comply with their demands, first to dispatch her, than themselves. This Project is put in execution, and the Ladies are surprised, Apollo rescues Helen, and appearing, reconciles Menelaus and Orestes, and makes a match betwixt him and Hermione, and betwixt Pylades and Electra, and promising happiness to 'em all, tells 'em, that Helen is made a Goddess, and so concludes the Play.  
In this Play most of the Characters are wicked, 
Characters all vicious.  Orestes and Electra are Parricides; Tyndarus is (in his heart at least) the Murderer of his grandchildren; Menelaus, the Betrayer of his Nephew, and Niece, whom he ought to have protected; Helen, an infamous Woman, and the accidental cause at least of the Miseries of a great part of Asia and Europe, yet clear of any intentional Gild in this case; Pylades is engaged with his Friend in an unjust attempt to murder Helen and her Daughter; Hermione, who is next to a Mute in the Play, is the only unexceptionable Character.  
This Play begins well, 
Not of a piece all through.  the Agonies of a guilty Conscience, the Despair, and the Horrors of Orestes promise a good Moral: But the hopes of that soon vanish; for the first word of comfort from Menelaus dispels all his Anxiety for his crime, and converts it to a solicitude for his Safety. In order to this, he enters upon a piece of Villainy, more execrable than that for which he was then prosecuted, because 'twas without provocation: A Faint of that kind had been an allowable Stratagem to have brought Menelaus to Articles; but to project it in earnest was an unparallelled piece of Barbarity. But what after all is more surprising and unnatural is, that the Catastrophe is happy, and the Parricides rewarded, and all this seems to be the result of Electra's latter contrivance, which however wicked was successful and prosperous.  
The Moral (if I may call it so) of this Story is properly this, 
Moral.  that there is no dabbling in Villainy, but that those that are once entered, must wade thro', if they will be safe, and justify one Crime by another. But that which makes the winding up of this Play more notorious, is, that the Gods are made the Arbiters of all; Apollo appears in person, and justifies Orestes, and promises him his protection, and ensures the happiness of Pylades and Electra, who had been the sole Incendiary and Contriver of all this Mischief; which is adding Impiety to the want of Poetic Justice, and making Providence accessary to Parricide, and the God's Abbetors of Violence and Injustice, not to take notice of the Deifying of Helena, who, though Jove's Daughter, is a Woman of a very infamous Character all through the Play.  
I suppose the Moral of this Play will hardly rise in Judgement against the Moderns. Nor has the Electra of of the same Author any more reason, it being liable to the same exceptions with the former, only in this the Murder is perpetrated, in that but designed; in short, this Play is the ground work of the former, and the action of this gives the reason, and occasion of all that happens in t'other. Here likewise the Gods are impertinently brought in to finish that, which would of itself have closed very naturally without 'em. For after the Death of Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra there was nothing more to be done. But this Poet, who is very fond of Machine's, tho● unnecessary, after all's over brings down Castor and Pollux to condemn the Fact, acquit the Murderers of their Sister, and transfer the Gild to Apollo, whom they accuse of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  uttering a foolish Oracle.  
However the Fable of this Play being the same with that of the Electra of Sophocles, we may do it the same Grace, and allow it the benefit of any Moral that may be raised out of it, though not without some violence, as this Author has managed it. What that is I have already observed in the foregoing Remarks upon the Electra of Sophocles.  
The Medea, 
Media, etc.  Hippolytus, jon, Hercules distracted, and several other are likewise built upon various Models. In these, as in most of Euripides' Plays, the Gods are always at one end or tother of the business, they are either the Promoters of the Crime, or the Protectors of the Criminals. All is acted by Machine, the Action is frequently forced, and the Catastrophe generally unnatural. Yet notwithstanding this extraordinary licence, which this Poet assumes in almost all his Plays, but very few of 'em are so modelled as to be serviceable to Virtue upon that Score.  
Medea, after a course of Murders, having slain her own Brother, and Children with her own hands, and Pelias, Creon, and Creusa by her charms, is taken particular care of by Phoebus, and provided of a flying Chariot to make her escape from Justice in.  
Hippolytus has the Character of a just, 
Fable of the Hippolytus.  and a Pious Person, and his conduct all thro' the Play, both in relation to his Mother in Law Phaedra, and his Father, by whose curse he is devoted, and brought to ruin, justifies this Character, and he in the Agonies of Death expresses a greater concern for, and a more sensible impression of his Father's misfortunes and afflictions, than his own. A Disposition so extraordinarily pious, one would think, should, if it might not exempt him from those disasters that attend the Infirmity of humane Nature, and the malignity of his Fellow Mortals, at least protect him from any supernatural calamities, and ensure the favour of Heaven to him. But he was a Votary to Diana, and his vow of Chastity gave such offence to Venus, who thought herself slighted, that she resolves his ruin, and declares her resolution, and the methods she intends to take to effect it, in the Prologue which she speaks. And she lays her Plot so, that by means of an antecedent Promise to Theseus she engages Neptune in the Destruction of an innocent Young Man, whose only crime is an obstinate, inviolate Chastity; and Phaedra, who is her instrument, is involved in the guilt of a heinous, but involuntary Crime. The consideration of the several Fables of these Plays could furnish the Audience with no venerable Ideas of their Gods, who could be the Promoters, or Protectors of such horrid Actions; nor could any encouragement to Justice and Morality be drawn from 'em, which afforded such examples of Partiality, and prejudice among their Deities, that the blackest Crimes could not forfeit their favour, nor the most exemplary Virtue ensure it.  
The jon is reckoned by the Learned Monsieur Dacier among that kind of Tragedies, 
jon a moral Tragedy.  which Aristotle calls Moral, and which this judicious Commentator defines thus; 
Remarks surle nineteen Chapitre de la poetique d' Aristote.  The Moral Tragedy is a sort of Tragedy contrived purely for the formation of men's manners, whose Catastrophe is always happy. And in the Page immediately foregoing, The Moral Tragedy (says he) treats neither of Death, Torments, nor Wounds, but of the happiness of some Persons recommendable for their Virtue. Here therefore one might reasonably expect a perfect Model of Virtue, and a exact Scheme of Manners; for which reason it may seem justly to challenge our consideration.  
jon, 
Fable of jon precedent to the Action.  a Slip of Creusa by Apollo, is privately born, and exposed by his Mother, is taken up by Mercury and conveyed to Delphi, where he is found by the Priestess, and brought up in the Temple of his Father, of which he is at length made the Treasurer, or Keeper of the rich Movables, in which Office he discharges his trust faithfully. Thus far the Prologue spoken by Mercury informs the Audience of the History of jon before the Play commences.  
Creusa his Mother, 
Fable commencing with the Action.  having no Issue by her Husband Xuthus, repairs with him to the Oracle at Delphi, to petition for an Heir. The Husband puts up his request according to form, and is answered, that the first man he should meet in his return from the Altar, was his Son; this happens to be jon, who is upon the faith of the Oracle received by him as his Son. jon, who being a Foundling, was ignorant of his Parentage, in return joyfully acknowledges him to be his Father, and is proved of so honourable an Extraction. This enrages Creusa, who not suspecting the relation of jon to herself, supposes him to be some byblow of her Husbands, as Xuthus himself does, but begotten before his Marriage to Creusa. In this rage she resolves and attempts to poison jon, which is discovered, and jon in revenge pursues her life. She takes refuge at the Altar, from whence while jon is endeavouring to force him, the Prophetess interposes, and produces the Swathing Bands, and other things in which jon was wrapped when found. These Creusa knows, and discovers him to be her own Son by Apollo; Minerva appears, and confirms her Story, and advises 'em both to conceal this circumstance from Xuthus, and concludes with a sort of Epilogue, predicting the happiness of jon, 
Main Condition of Moral Tragedy neglected in this.  and other Children, which Creusa was to have by her Husband.  
If this was designed for a Moral Tragedy, as Monsieur Dacier thinks, and as the Contrivance of the Fable, as well as the Catastrophe seems to argue, it must be confessed that Euripides has forgot the main circumstance. For the good Fortune of those Persons, whom he makes happy in the Conclusion is not owing to their Virtue or Prudence, but to the favour of Phoebus, who had too great a Personal Interest in 'em, to suffer 'em to miscarry.  
Creusa's Character is vicious all along, 
Creasa's a wicked Character.  she was with Child by Apollo, and privately delivered, and to conceal her Shame, she exposes the Infant as a Prey to the Wild Beasts, as she herself confesses to her old Servant, and Confident, the Contriver and Instrument of her intended Villainy afterwards.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
He died a Prey to the Wild Beasts.  
Here she confesses herself guilty of a Crime, that is capital in our Law, and is so far from repenting, that she engages immediately in the design of another of a Dye something deeper, because Treachery and Violence enter the composition; in this she is active in the Murder, in the former she was only Passive. This Character can hold forth nothing of Instruction, except it teach Women, that have given up their Honours, to secure their Reputations by murdering their Bastards; and furious, jealous Wives to destroy their Husband's Children and Heirs by other Women.  
The Character of jon is indeed not so criminal; 
Ion's Character indifferent.  his highest commendation is, that he had not imbezzled the Stores of Apollo committed to his keeping. Now, though Faithfulness be very commendable in a Servant, yet his was never exercised in so superlative a way, or endured any such severe trial, as might upon that score entitle him to the great Fortune and Preferment which befell him afterwards. His highest Merit was bare Honesty, enough to have procured him a Certificate now adays upon change of Service; not to challenge any considerable Reward. He laid claim to no active virtues, his Innocence was his strongest Plea, and that too seems to be a little sullied at last by his too eager Prosecution of Revenge upon Creusa. A generous Heathen (without reaching the Pitch of Christian Morality) would have forgiven, or slighted the Feeble Malice of a Woman, especially at that Critical Juncture, when he ought to have shown himself worthy of his sudden exaltation by some extraordinary act of Generosity. But his collusion at last with his Mother to cheat Xuthus is a piece of Condescension so base, as forfeits all pretence to common merit or honesty. For he that is content to hold his good Forrune by Trick and Imposture, don't deserve it.  
Thus we see in this Moral Play, 
Of no Service to Morality.  of the two fortunate Persons, one is wicked, and ought not to be drawn into Precedent, much less to be proposed for an Example; tother's Virtue is of so dwarfish a size, and so weakly a Constitution, that 'tis not very likely to propagate, and by no means a proper Standard to measure full grown Worth by. And therefore this Play (though we should, with Monsieur Dacier, allow it to be of the Moral kind) is like to do no great service to Morality by the Design and Management of its Fable.  
Because I have mentioned the Hercules Furens, 
Hercules Furens compared with the Trachiniae of Sophocles.  I will not pass it absolutely over in Silence, though it affords no great matter of reflection; having had occasion to take notice of the Character and Sufferings of Hercules in the Trachiniae of Sophocles. There is indeed this considerable difference to the disadvantage of this Play, in regard to the Moral, Art, and Beauty of it, that here the misfortunes of Hercules are wrought altogether by Machine: Juno, Iris, and Lyssa or Madness (which is here supposed a Daemon) are all, and only concerned in the contrivance; whereas in Sophocles things are naturally brought about, and made the result of Jealousy and Credulity. What therefore in that is but obliquely charged upon the Gods, is here directly laid upon 'em. So that, what from the last Speech of Hyllus, and the Chorus is there urged against the Moral of that Play, holds more strongly against this. Besides the atrocity of the Fact, which extending here to the Lives of his Wife and Children, aggravates the guilt of juno, who could not limit her malice to his Person, without comprehending those Innocents', who by no crime of their own could have incurred her displeasure.  
These few instances may suffice to give us a true estimate of the care of Euripides, in the formation of his Fables in general, in relation to the Grand or General Moral.  
Aeschylus should follow, 
Character of Aeschylus.  who, though first in order of time, comes naturally last into consideration, as affording very little upon this Topick. This Author seems scarce to have designed any Moral to his Fables, or at least to have regarded it very little. His aim was wholly at the Pathetic, and he deals almost altogether in Objects of Terror; accordingly his Flights are frequently lofty, but generally irregular, and his Verse rumbles, and thunders almost perpetually, but it usually spends itself, like a Wind-Gun, in Noise and Blast only. He sets out gloriously, launches boldly, blown up with a Tympany of Windy Hyperboles, and Buckram Metaphors; but he carries more Sail than Ballast, and his course is accordingly uneven; he is sometimes in the Clouds, and sometimes upon the Sands. In short, Aeschylus' sole Care and Ambition seems to have been (as Mr Bays has it) to elevate and surprise; in the eager pursuit of which, he has missed many things, which are the lasting graces of his more temperate Successors. The Ground work of his Plays are plain simple Stories, without either Plot or Moral, told only in the most pompous formidable manner the Poet could invent, to strike a Panic Terror into the Audience; and consequently they afford no great matter of reflection here. I shall therefore dismiss this Poet without any formal examination to this Article, and only present the Reader with one Instance of his neglect of Moral, which stairs me in the Face in the very first Page of his Prometheus. 
Edit. Hen. Steph.   
Power and Force, two Poetical Persons, are sent by Jupiter to assist Vulcan in the chaining Prometheus to a Rock. 
His Prometheus immoral.  They begin the Prologue, and declare his crime, which was communicating the Celestial Fire to Mortals; and the reason of his Punishment, which was that he might learn to acquiesce in the administration of Jove, and shake off his tenderness for Mankind.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This reason is pretty singular and extravagant, 
Jupiter abused by the Poet under the Persons of Power and Force.  that a Brother Immortal should be treated so inhumanely by Jupiter, and his Fellow Gods, only for his Philanthropy, or Love to Mankind; and must needs have a very serviceable effect upon Mortals. For no doubt but Jupiter's Altars must smoak very plentifully, when Men were informed, that so well he stood affected towards 'em, that 'twas Capital in any of his Under-Gods to bear 'em any good will. This must needs impress upon 'em a great veneration for his Person, and zeal for his Service; their Gratitude must needs work over abundantly for so signal a Grace.  
That this was all Prometheus' offence Vulcan assures us in his reply. 
The abuse back● 〈◊〉 Vulcan.  seems to have some Bowels of Commiseration for this poor Devil of a God, and in a compas●sionate sort of Remonstrance tells him, that this comes of his fondness of Mankind, and thereby provoking Jupiter, who was fierce, and implacable, as all new Governors are.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
This account of jupiter seems to countenance a harsher Translation, than I have given of the foregoing words 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and to expound 'em in the scandalous sense of Tyranny, rather than of a just and equal administration of Affairs.  
After this Prologue I suppose no good Moral will be expected from this Fable; the rest of Aeschylus' Fables are managed after a manner little more serviceable, for which reason I shall not tyre the Reader with the examination of 'em.  
After the decease of this Triumvirate of Poets, 
Deficiency of the Greek Tragedy.  the Tragedy of Athens disappears. Not but they had many Tragedians after 'em, but neither did they rise to a height of Reputation equal to these, nor did their works very long survive 'em that I know of. Here therefore we lose the view of the Ancient Tragedy, for above five hundred years together.  
The next sight we have of it is at Rome, 
Tragedy at Rome.  where we find in all but ten Tragedies, which are all collected under the name of Seneca's, though belonging (as many Learned men think) to several Authors. Of these nine are of Greek Extraction, 
Bo rowed from the Greeks.  all but one taken from Plays yet remaining to us. The Medea, Hippolytus, Troas, and Hercules Furens are taken from Plays all bearing the same names in Euripides, except the Troas, which, though it bears the same name, yet is not upon the same argument with the Troades of Euripides, but is taken from the Hecuba, another Play of the same Poet. The Oedipus, and Hercules Oetaeus, are descended immediately from the Oedipus Tyrannus, and Trachiniae of Sophocles. And 'tis very probable the Thyestes is owing to the same Author, though the Greek Original be now lost. For 'tis not only certain that Sophocles wrote three Plays which bore that name, but the Model seems to bear more resemblance to the manner of Sophocles, than either of the other Tragedians. The Agamemnon plainly belongs to Aeschylus, as does likewise the Thebais, in right of his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, though the Thebais of Seneca being imperfect, it does not so plainly appear whether he copied it immediately from thence, or at second hand from the Phoenissaes of Euripides. The Octavia only is of Roman Original, its Author is uncertain. For 'tis justly suspected to belong to neither of the Seneca's.  
This Author, (for Mr Collier seems to take all these Plays to be the work of one man) is censured and stands in some measure condemned, by Mr Collier, and therefore I should wave any other scrutiny into his conduct, if I did not find him in some measure justified, and in a manner absolved upon the comparison with the Moderns.  
But, 
Seneca the Philosopher supposed the Author of 'em.  if we believe with those Prodigies of Letters, Lipsius, Joseph Scaliger, and Heinsius, and divers others very eminent for their Learning, that we are beholding to the famous Seneca the Philosopher, for three at least of these Plays, the Medea, Hippolytus, and Troas, to which Farnaby adds the Oedipus, we shall be obliged to pay more deference or respect to 'em, and not to pass a rash and unmannerly censure upon any of the remains of so illustrious an Author.  
But Seneca is not at present in Mr Collier's favour, 
Seneca udjustly aspersed by Mr Collier. P. 94.  he is declared an injudicious, licentious Poet, upon whose liberties the Modern Poets proceed; and therefore he is not to be received into Grace, till he has had the Penning of a Recantation for him If Mr Collier did believe that Seneca the Philosopher was the Author of any of those Plays, he ought upon the merit of his other works, (by which he may at least pretend to vie with Mr Collier both zeal and service in the cause of Virtue) to have treated so excellent a Person with more respect and honour, than to have ranked him with, and made him the Ringleader of those, whom he reckons Atheists and Buffoons. If he did not, he could in Justice have done no less than set him clear of the Imputation, which by so rude and indiscreet a charge he has brought him under. For he could not but know, that the learned Persons beforementioned, whose Authority is of great weight amongst Men of Letters, had delivered their Opinions, that he was the Author of some of those Plays, especially the Judicious Heinsius, whom he citys, and I should suppose he is well acquainted with, unless he does (which I suspect) like some Persons, that boast of their familiarity with great men, whom they have not the honour to know.  
Had he known their Opinions in this matter, it had but been a becoming piece of Modesty to have laid his reasons for his dissent from 'em before his Reader; and not haughtily to have slighted their Authorities as not worth his notice. Or at least he ought not in good manners to have treated the Memory of that Philosopher at so scoundrel a rate. I suppose he will hardly justify this Indignity from the misrepresentations that have been given of him. For, not to enter improperly into a dispute about the validity of those Reports here, whatever his private infirmities might be, we are sure from his works, that he bent his Studies and Endeavours to the service of Morality as heartily and successfully, as some Christians who with greater helps and stronger invitations, seem to value their Services much higher, with less reason.  
However Seneca, 
Seneca careless of Poetic Justice.  though he cannot without extreme injury be accused of Writing for the encouragement of Debauchery, has been very careless of Poetic Justice in winding up his Fables. Phaedra in the Hippolytus, and Lycus in the Hercules Furens are only the Malefactors that are brought to condign Punishment. For, as for Oedipus, we have had occasion already to clear him from the Aspersion of Gild, though his Misfortunes are the most notorious, and his Calamities the most deplorable of any upon the Ancient Stage. 
Ajax and Oileus.  Ajax Oileus, whom Mr. Collier produces as the only instance of this kind, 
An improper instance of it.  is indeed none. For he is no Person of the Drama, nor has his Fate any influence upon the success of the Action either way. He is only mentioned by Eurybates, in the relation which he makes of the Voyage of the Greeks from Troy, to increase the horror of that Storm, of which he was then giving a description; which is no more to the business of the Play, than 'twould have been, if Mr Congreve in his Mourning Bride should have taken occasion from the Wreck of his Hero on the same Seas, to have brought in the Storm that cast away the Turkey Fleet, and described the manner of Sir Francis Wheeler's Wreck.  
But if Seneca has been remiss upon this Article he sins at least by Precedent, 
Seneca limited by Precedent.  and may plead in his Justification, that he leaves the Story generally no worse than he found it. He built, as we have already observed, upon other men's bottoms, and could not make any great alterations in the Foundations they had laid, without endangering the superstructure. Aristotle observes, in favour of the Poets of, or near his time, that taking the Fables of their Plays from Stories vulgarly known either from History, or the works of some precedent Poet, they had not the liberty of receding so far from the received Tradition in the Contrivance, and disposition of their Fables, as was frequently required to the forming a just and truly artificial Model. This may be urged with more justice in defence of Seneca, who, taking his. Models from Authors of great reputation, would have been thought guilty of a high piece of Presumption, if he had varied too much from Originals so well known and received. Besides, had he changed the Fortune of his Principal Persons he had effaced the Images of 'em, which had been impressed upon the Audience, who would not have owned, or acknowledged 'em for the persons they pretended to represent, who were best, or perhaps only by those marks to be distinguished.  
However, 
Hippolytus of Seneca examined.  it must be granted, that in his Hippolytus, wherein he has ventured to deviate a little from the Original, he has done it very judiciously, and very much to the advantage of the Moral; the application of which he has thereby rendered not only more easy and natural, but itself likewise more useful, and instructive. In Euripides the Gods do all. His Persons move like Puppets by wires; Venus contrives and acts all. Phedra's a mere Machine, a passive Vehicle, that serves purely for the more cleanly conveyance of the Goddesses malice. The unraveling likewise is performed by Machine, Pallas descends to clear the Innocence of Hippolytus, and accuses Venus. In short, the Action is all forced and unnatural, and of consequence, the Moral, if any, must be strained.  
Seneca has artfully avoided these inconveniences, 
More artificial than the Hippolytus of Euripides.  by making the incestuous Love of Phaedra spring from her own Infirmity, and the death of Hippolytus, the effect of her Revenge of his Scornfully rejecting her Passion, and her fear of his making a discovery of her Infamy to his Father. Her punishment by this means becomes just, which was not so in the Greek, and her Rage, Despair, Confession and Death, are the natural result of her Gild and Folly. 
The Moral.  From the unhappy Catastrophe of this Lady,, matter of fair Instruction may be drawn to check such licentious Flames in their first Birth, which if indulged draw after 'em such fatal consequences. And from the rash misplaced imprecation of Theseus, Parents may be cautioned against too easy a credulity in such extraordinary cases, and to guard against such violences of Passion, as may extort Curses from 'em, that may return upon their own Heads, and involve themselves in the conclusion.  
This Plot, as it stands in Seneca, is one of the neatest of Antiquity, and had the Author taken care to disencourage himself as happily from Neptune, as he has from Venus and Minerva, I see nothing inartificial in the disposition of it. But Neptune performing his part extra Scenam, this fault is the more pardonable, especially since 'tis originally the oversight of Euripides.  
The rest of this Author's Plays varying little or nothing in the Fable from the Greek Originals, 
The rest chose Copies from the Greek.  (those I mean, that we know, for the Thyestes of Sophocles is lost) whatever the faults of 'em may be in that respect, the Latin Author is not so properly accountable for 'em. The Octavia, 
Octavia illcontrived and insipid.  being the only Tragedy of Roman Stock that remains to us, seems to challenge upon that Score some regard, whosoever was the Author of it. But being rather a relation by way of Dialogue between the several Parties concerned of an unjust Tyrannic Action, in which there is neither Plot, Turn, Moral, nor Consequence, it would be time lost to bestow an Examination upon it here.  
Having thus run through the Tragedies of Antiquity, perhaps something more minutely, than may be thought requisite upon this Article, I shall not make many reflections upon the whole, but leave 'em to the further consideration of the Reader, after a Remark or two, concerning the Practice of the Ancients in general, in this respect.  
It is observable, 
General Reflections on the Ancient Tragedy.  that the Ancients in the disposition of their Fables, seem to have had such very little regard to the Moral of 'em, they contented themselves with delivering their Instructions in wise sayings, scattered here and there up and down the Dialogue, or at the close of all; and only sought in their Fables matter and occasion of moving the Passions, which was generally done by way of Narration; to which end they furnished out their Dialogue with all the Force, Pomp, and Terror of Expression they could, in which how well they have succeeded, is not to the present purpose to take notice.  
Aristotle had, 
Aristotle's division of Tragedy.  no doubt, this practice of theirs in view, when he divided Tragedy into Moral and Pathetic. By this Division of Tragedy (ratione Subjecti) Aristotle plainly indicateth, not only that the Subjects of the Ancient Tragedy were not all Moral, but likewise that it was not necessary, that they should be so. He instances in the Phthiotides, and Peleus, two Tragedies that are lost, as examples of the Moral kind; and besides this mention of 'em, I do not remember any notice that he has taken of this sort of Tragedy. For all his Rules seem to be calculated for the service of the Pathetic and Implex kinds.  
From this silence of Aristotle, 
Moral Plays not much encouraged at Athens.  and the scarcity of 'em amongst the remains of the Greek Tragedy, we may reasonably collect, that this sort of Tragedy was not much in use amongst the Ancients themselves. For of all the Pieces of Antiquity the Alcestis of Euripides alone in my opinion deserves the name of a Moral Tragedy. In this Play both Admetus, and his Wife Alcestis are Persons of strict Probity, and great Piety. Alcestis out of a singular Piety, offers herself to Death a voluntary Sacrifice, in lieu of her Husband. In the depth of Admetus' grief while his Wife was yet in the House, and the rites of Funeral unperformed, comes Hercules, who observing the Family to be in Mourning, desires to be excused from troubling his House at so unseasonable a time. Admetus, unwilling to turn away such a Guest, dissembles the real cause of his Grief, and receives him nobly, but Hercules enquiring, and being informed of the Truth of Admetus' loss, combats Death, recovers Alcestis, and restores her to her Husband.  
The Fable of this Play is truly Moral. 
Alcestis of Euripides a Moral Tragedy.  Alcestis first by her Piety redeems her Husband from Death; and Admetus afterwards by his Generosity and Hospitality, by means of Hercules, rescues her from the Grave. Thus they reciprocally owe their lives to each others Virtue. But if this Play be remarkably Moral, it is on the other hand monstrously unnatural, and consequently on that account is incapable of affording any extraordinary Pleasure, or Improvement. This probably might be the reason, why this sort of Tragedy was so little in request.  
From the whole it appears, 
Ancients careless of the General Moral of the Plays.  that the Ancients were not so careful of their Models, as Mr Collier pretends; but were on the contrary extremely negligent of the Moral in the Fables of their Tragedies. So that if one or two do afford a tolerable one, we may conclude by the slight notice they take of it, that they did not see it, or but casually found it there, rather than industriously sought it; and that we are more beholding to their luck, than Judgement or good Intentions for 'em. I grant this way of arguing not to be demonstrative, but it is not therefore unconclusive. For since the sense of the Ancients, is not any where (that I know of) delivered in express terms concerning this matter, I take their Practice, backed by the Authority of Aristotle, to be a sufficient warrant for any conclusions, that shall be drawn naturally from 'em. 
Consequence of Mr Collier's loose way of Writing.   
But if I would indulge myself in the Liberties of Mr. Collier, and charge the Antiens at that loose rate, that he does the English Dramatic Poets, I might not only tax 'em with negligence of their Morals, but with maliciously discouraging Virtue, and industriously promoting Villainy, and Impiety. Nor would the Poets suffer alone, all the great Men of Antiquity, that have commended their works, must share both the Gild, and the Sentence; and Aristotle above the rest would be even capitally criminal, his Art of Poetry is an inexhaustible Spring of Corruption, an everlasting Source of Infection, that has diffused its Venom over the whole World, and poisoned Mankind almost universally with Villainy, Impiety, Lewdness, and Debauchery, of all kinds, for above sixteen hundred years together. This would be high Treason among the Admirers of the Ancients, yet 'tis nothing to one of Mr Collier's declamatory Rants, when he is in one of his Rhetorical Fits, and about to dress up a Character for Aristophanes, or any of the English Poets. After this disingenuous rate 'twere easy to turn the satire upon Ages long since past, and railly in his own words, those whom he himself recommends to the Imitation of our present Writers. An instance of this kind mayn't be amiss to show how easy 'tis to misrepresent the fairest intentions, and to improve Peccadillo's into Crimes of the blackest Dye, to make a hellish Plot of an oversight, and plunge Men over head and ears in Brimstone, for Humane infirmities.  
'Tis a Jest, 
Turned upon the Ancients.  that the Ancients would make us believe, that their design was Virtue and Reformation. In good time! They are likely to combat Vice with Success, 
P. 286.  who destroy the Principles of Good and Evil. Would Euripides persuade us that his aim is Virtuous, and his design Moral? Why then does he make choice of means so disproportionate to the end he pretends to drive at? Why is Vice represented successful, and Villainy triumphant, but to encourage Men to the Practice of it? Why is Medea, the betrayer of her Father, and Country, a Poisoner, a Sorceress, and a Murderer, one that had run thro' the whole compass, and measured all the Paces of Villainy, suffered to make her escape? Or if she must not be punished, why are the Gods engaged in the matter, and she taken into the care of Providence, and furnished with means of Escape at the expense of a Miracle? Why are Orestes and Electra, Parricides, taken immediately into the Protection of Heaven, under Despondency, and the lashes of a guilty Conscience? Why are they encouraged to bear up against the convictions of their own minds, and promised prosperity from Heaven? Why is Hippolytus maliciously persecuted, and no less than two Deities employed in his ruin, only for being chaste by vow? unless it be to show us, that the World has been mistaken in its notions of Providence, that wickedness is meritorious, and Innocence a Crime, that Virtue, and Vice, of which the Philosophers prate so much, are but the Whimsies of Hypocondriacks, the Dreams of speculative Enthusiasts. Are these the Socratic Dialogues, and this the result of the Philosopher's Lectures? Is this the Admirer of Socrates, that was reciprocally so admired by him, that he could sit whole days with Patience at the recital of his Plays? If we may judge of one by the other, the Scholar was an Atheist, and his Master little better. Why else did he not reprove him for his blasphemous Fictions, and making the Gods the Actors, and Patrons of Villainy, and reprehend him for mistaking the notions of Providence, confounding the Ideas of Virtue and Vice, and subverting the Maxims of Morality?  
Thus we see at this rate of declaiming not only Euripides, 
Socrates by this means condemned.  who affected Philosophy a little too much in his Poems, but even Socrates himself, the Boast of Antiquity, and the Glory of the Heathen World stands condemned, as an Abettour of Murder, Incest, and Blasphemy. Let us see whether Aeschylus or Sophocles can acquit themselves any better.  
If Aeschylus had taken due care of his designs, 
Aeschylus arraigned by Mr Collier's Precedent.  and built only upon Models of Virtue, we had never heard of his Prometheus. This Poet strikes at the Root of all Moral Virtue. He scorns to trifle, and pluck it down piece-meal, but blows it up all together. Philanthropy, or Charity is the Ground and Foundation of all Morality. This in the Prometheus is made a Crime, and a God sentenced to perpetual Punishment for his love to Mankind, which is all that is objected to him. This must needs create in Mankind a great Veneration, and impress a suitable Reverence for the Gods, who are so very tender of 'em, in return for their oblations, that 'tis high Treason to bear 'em any good Will. No doubt. but Religion must shoot, and flourish mightily under such a hopeful Prospect of Reward.  
Sophocles has been altogether as careful of Religion in his Philoctetes. 
Sophocles  That Spark, with his Carcase rotten, and full of aches and ulcers, hectors the Gods at a strange rate, and they think it worth their while to cajole him into their service. Hercules is sent to make him a fine Speech, and large promises to invite him to obedience, and allure him over to their Party. Oedipus is made Virtuous, Just, and Wise, but unhappy thro' a Fatality, against which his Virtue is no security; Justice requires that he should be rewarded and encouraged, but Providence will have him afflicted, and punished with extremity of Rigour.  
Can any thing be more disserviceable to Probity and Religion, than these Examples of Injustice, Oppression, and Cowardice in their Gods? They cherish those Passions, 
P. 28.  and reward those Vices, which 'tis the business of Reason to discountenance. They strike at the root of Principle, and draw off the Inclinations from Virtue, and spoil good Education: They are the most effectual means to baffle Discipline, to emasculate people's Spirits, and debauch their Manners. How many of the unwary have these Sirens devoured? And how often has the best blood been tainted with this Infection? What disappointments of Parents, what Confusion in Families, and what Beggary in Estates have been hence occasioned: And which is still worse, the Mischief spreads, and the Malignity grows more envenomed. The Fever works up towards Madness, and will scarce endure to be touched.  
I doubt not but the sober admirers of the Greek Tragedy will think that the fumes of Mr Collier's stummed Rant are got into my Head, 
Extravagance of this way of declaiming.  and work me out of my Wits. And had he so far debauched my Judgement, as to make this my serious Opinion, I would grant, that he and I were only fit to lead a Colony to settle at 
* An Island famous for plenty of Hellebore, used in the cure of Madness.  Anticyra, and diet upon Hellebore. But though I have no such lewd thoughts of the great Men of Antiquity, yet so far I shall presume to venture, (without trespassing against Modesty, or breaking rudely in upon the harmonious Judgement of the Learned for a long Succession of Ages) as to say, that Mr Collier's unreasonable satire comes as full upon the Ancients whom he admires and commends, as upon the Moderns, whom he vilifies and condemns.  
The Modern Tragedy is a Field large enough for us to lose ourselves in, and therefore I shall not take the Liberty of ranging thro' 'em at large, but for the most part confine myself to such as Mr Collier has already attacked. Upon presumption therefore that these are the weakest, if these can be defended, the rest I suppose may hold out of themselves.  
I shall begin with Shakespeare, whom notwithstanding the severity of Mr Rhimer, 
Shakespeare preferred to all the rest of the English Dramatics.  and the hard usage of Mr Collier, I must still think the Proto-Dramatist of England, though he fell short of the Art of Johnson, and the Conversation of Beaumond and Fletcher. Upon that account he wants many of their Graces, yet his Beauties make large amends for his Defects, and Nature has richly provided him with the materials, though his unkind Fortune denied him the Art of managing them to the best Advantage.  
His Hamlet, 
Censure of Hamlet unjust.  a Play of the first rate, has the misfortune to fall under Mr Collier's displeasure; and Ophelia who has had the luck hitherto to keep her reputation, is at last censured for Lightness in her Frenzy; nay, Mr Collier is so familiar with her, as to make an unkind discovery of the unsavouriness of her Breath, which no Body suspected before. But it may be this is a groundless surmise, and Mr Collier is deceived by a bad Nose, or a rotten Tooth of his own; and then he is obliged to beg the Poets and the Ladies pardon for the wrong he has done 'em; But that will fall more naturally under our consideration in another place.  
Hamlet King of Denmark was privately murdered by his Brother, 
Fable of Hamlet, before the commencement of the Action.  who immediately thereupon married the Dowager, and supplanted his Nephew in the Succession to the Crown. Thus far before the proper action of the Play.  
The late King's Ghost appears to his Son young Hamlet, 
Fable after the Action commences.  and declares how and by whom he was murdered, and engages him to revenge it. Hamlet hereupon grows very much discontented, and the King very jealous of him. Hereupon he is dispatched with Ambassadors to England, than supposed Tributary to Denmark, whither a secret Commission to put him to Death, is sent by 'em: Which Hamlet discovering writes a new Commission, in which he inserts the names of the Ambassadors instead of his own. After this a Pirate engaging their Vessel, and Hamlet too eagerly boarding her is carried off, and set ashore in Denmark again. The Ambassadors not suspecting Hamlet's Trick, pursue their Voyage, and are caught in their own Trap. Polonius, a Counsellor to the King, conveying himself as a Spy behind the Hangings, at an interview between Hamlei and his Mother, is mistaken for the King, and killed by him. Laertes his Son, together with the King contrive the Death of Hamlet by a shame Match at foils, wherein Laertes uses a poisoned unrebated Weapon. The King, not trusting to this single Treachery, prepares a poisoned Bowl for Hamlet, which the Queen ignorantly drinks. Hamlet is too hard for Laertes, and closes with him, and recovers the envenomed weapon from him, but in so doing, he is hurt by, and hurts him with it. Laertes perceiving himself wounded, and knowing it to be mortal, confesses that it was a train laid by the King for Hamlet's Life, and that the foul Practice is justly turned upon himself. The Queen at the same times cries out, that she is poisoned, whereupon Hamlet wounds the King with the envenomed weapon. They all die.  
Whatever defects the Critics may find in this Fable, 
Poetic Justice exactly observed in this Play.  the Moral of it is excellent. Here was a Murder privately committed, strangely discovered, and wonderfully punished. Nothing in Antiquity can rival this Plot for the admirable distribution of Poetic Justice. The Criminals are not only brought to execution, but they are taken in their own Toils, their own Stratagems recoil upon 'em, and they are involved themselves in that mischief and ruin, which they had projected for Hamlet. Polonius by playing the Spy meets a Fate, which was neither expected by, nor intended for him. Guildenstern and Rosencraus, the King's Decoys, are counterplotted, and sent to meet that fate, to which they were trepanning the Prince. The Tyrant himself falls by his own Plot, and by the hand of the Son of that Brother, whom he had murdered. Laertes suffers by his own Treachery, and dies by a Weapon of his own preparing. Thus every one's crime naturally produces his Punishment, and every one (the Tyrant excepted) commences a Wretch almost as soon as a Villain.  
The Moral of all this is very obvious, 
Moral of Hamlet.  it shows us, That the Greatness of the Offender does not qualify the Offence, and that no Humane Power, or Policy are a sufficient Guard against the Impartial Hand, and Eye of Providence, which defeats their wicked purposes, and turns their dangerous Machinations upon their own heads. This Moral Hamlet himself insinuates to us, when he tells Horatio, that he owed the Discovery of the Design against his Life in England, to a rash indiscreet curiosity, and thence makes this Inference.  
Our Indiscretion sometimes serves as well,  
When our dear Plots do fail, and that should teach us.  
There's a Divinity, that shapes our ends,  
Rough hue 'em how we will.  
The Tragedies of this Author in general are Moral and Instructive, 
Tragedies of this Author generally moral.  and many of 'em such, as the best of Antiquity can't equal in that respect. His King Lear, Timon of Athens, Macbeth, and some others are so remarkable upon that score, that 'twould be impertinent to trouble the Reader with a minute examination of Plays so generally known and approved.  
The other Tragedies upon which Mr Collier lets his indignation fall so heavy, are so recent, and so common in the hands of every Play Reader, that 'tis almost an affront to their memories to trouble 'em with too particular a Recapitulation. But since we have obliged ourselves to make good the Comparative innocence of the Moderns by instances upon the Parallel, Mr Collier can never desire fairer Play, than for us to undertake the defence of those very Plays, which he himself has marked out, and assigned us; of which the next in order is the Orphan, against which he enters the Lists as the Chaplains Champion, in whose Quarrel and upon whose account he is most implacably enraged.  
The Model of this Play is something like that of Oedipus, 
The Orphan.  except that in this the crime of Polydore, being voluntary, his guilt is real, and by consequence Poetic Justice is observed in his punishment, which is just. In this Tragedy likewise Acasto, Castalio, and Monimia are innocent, virtuous Characters, and their misfortunes undeserved, which made 'em naturally objects of Pity and Commiseration. The fatal consequences of Polydore's intemperate lust, and base rash action, afford matter of Terror and Example. This Play is exactly constituted according to Aristotle, who requires only that Tragedy should move Terror and Compassion, which are the proper Springs, by which it works upon the Audience. 
The Moral good.  In this it excels the Fable of the Oedipus, that it bears naturally a good Moral, and in the wretched Catastrophe of Polydore, and the miseries which his incontinence brought upon his Family, preaches Chastity to the Audience after the most effectual manner.  
But Mr Collier's in the humour now, 
Mr Collier's Zeal for the Pagan Priesthood injurious to the Christian Ministry.  and he scorns to circumscribe his kindness to the limits of the Christian Priesthood, whether Orthodox, or Heterodox. For even the Mufti is allowed the benefit of his Clergy, and shares his Patronage. He is furiously provoked at Mr Dryden for saying that Priests of all Religions are the same, when he himself at the same time makes no distinction, but treats the Priests of God Almighty, Mahomet and Anubis with the same respect. He is for strengthening his Party, and contracting an Alliance with all Faiths and Complexions; he ransacks Europe, Asia, and Africa, and enters into a religious League offensive and defensive with Sunburnt Africans, and Monsters of the Nile. To this end, he labours hard to find out some relation between the Mufti and the Bishops, and very dutifully strains to extend the scandal from afric to England, that what is said of their Archpriest may reflect upon our Prelates. The most bigoted Mussulman of 'em all could not have acted more for the service of their Priests, than to have shifted the reproach from them to ours. But I hope there is no such Sympathy between 'em (as Mr Collier injuriously fancies) and that to break the Mufti's would not make our Bishop's Heads ache, or his black and blue be seen in their Faces. Those worthy great Men, who are the honour of both our Church and Nation, have little reason to thank him for endeavouring to alley 'em to those, that must of necessity, putting the mildest construction upon their actions, be either gross Fools or rank Knaves; Fools if they believe, and Knaves if they help on the cheat and imposture of Mahomet without believing. Thus Mr Collier puts a grosser affront upon our Religion and Clergy, than any Mr Dryden has done, and his reproof deserves a severer correction, than tother's fault. This perhaps is a liberty too great to be indulged in any one but Mr Collier's dear self, and therefore to chastise Mr Dryden's Presumption and Insolence for but seeming to invade his fancied Property, he falls most outrageously upon his Don Sebastian.  
The Subject of this Play bears a very Religious Moral, 
Don Sebastian a Religious Play.  and consonant to the Tenor of the 2d Commandment shows, that the Punishment of men's crimes, shall extend not only to their own persons, but if unrepented shall reach their Posterity likewise. In this Fable Muley Moloch, a Tyrant and an Usurper, Benducar a crafty Villain and a Traitor, the Mufti a rascally Hypocrite and a Traitor. These three therefore are justly rewarded for their own proper Demerits. The Tyrant falls by Treachery, the treacherous Minister by public Justice, and the Hypocrite is unmasked, deposed, and his Estate confiscated. Sebastian and Almeyda are Characters of extraordinary Virtue, Sebastian appears just and brave, and Almeyda chaste and constant to an Heroic Pitch. Their offence was involuntary, and a Sin of Ignorance, the unhappy consequence of the transgression of their Parents, and their Punishment is proportioned very well to the nature of their Trespass. For though Incest be a Sin of a very black Dye, yet their Ignorance of the nearness of their Blood washes away their Gild, and makes it their misfortune, not their Crime. In this case a bare Separation would be a sufficient Justification of their Innocence. But a Judgement hanging over their heads for the sin of their Parents, to divert that something more mortifying was necessary, and therefore a voluntary abdication, exile, and a recluse religious Life are thrown in by way of Penance to make weight, and give the atonement its due compliment. But lest the true Moral should escape the Audience, the Poet has taken care to fix, and sum it up in the four concluding Lines 
Let Sebastian and Almeyda's Fate  
This dreadful Sentence to the World relate,  
That unrepented crimes of Parents dead,  
Are justly punished on their children's heads.   
This Moral needs no defence, and would plead successfully for its Author, and excuse many little Slips before any Judge less partially severe than Mr Collier.  
The Cleomenes of the same Author stands indicted upon the same score, 
Reason of Mr Collier's ●ua●rel to the Cleomenes.  that is, for being to free with the Priests of Apis. For though that been't the only Allegation against this Play, 'tis apparently the sole ground. Thus Mr Collier as well as Mr Dryden, sets Priests of all Religions upon the same Foot. So they be but Priests, 'tis no matter to whom, he expects they should be respected and reverenced; the compliment must be paid to their Livery, whether it be Christ's or the Devils. Else why are the Mufti, and the Priests of Apis so much his Concern? Why all this heat in the cause of Infidels and Idolaters, and those none of the simple deluded Rout, but the Arch Jugglers, and Managers of the Cheat.  
In this Play he has forgot, 
Mor●l wanting to the Cleomenes.  or overlooked his greatest advantage, which is the want of Moral. His Passion had got the upperhand of his Judgement, and pushed him headlong on to the attack, no matter where. In this Play Poetic Justice is altogether neglected, Virtue is every where deprested, and calamitous, and falls at last unrevenged in the ruin of Cleomenes, Pantheus, Cleanthes, Cleonidas, Cratisiclea, and Cleora. Vice revels all along, and triumphs at length in the persons of Ptolemy, Casandra, and Sosybins. The Fidelity of Cleomenes to his Nuptial Vows is the destruction of himself and all his Friends, while the Luxury of Ptolemy, the Wantonness and Infidelity of Casandra, and the Treachery of Sosybius, insult in security unfortunate Virtue.  
'Tis true, 
M●●al●● ference.  Sosybius in the close seems to become a Convert, and pretends to pay extraordinary honours to the Body of the dead Hero. From whence we may draw this inference, That Virtue has its altars tho neglected, even in the most profligate Breasts, and that the most inveterate of its Enemies will confess its Charms, when they no longer dread its power.  
Mr Dryden has confined himself a little too near the Story, 
The Poet too faithful to the History.  had he ass●rted his right, and taken the Liberty of a Poet, he might have improved the Moral very much by sending Sosybius, Casandra, and Ptolemy to attend Cleomenes to the other World. For (with Submission to Mr Dryden's better Judgement) I see no necessity for letting the Curtain fall so immediately upon the Death of Cleomenes. The fall of his Hero ought to have drawn after it a train of Consequence fatal to the Contrivers of it; the ruins of a Hero of his size and weight ought to have crushed those feeble Egyptians. Had the rage and despair, that might naturally be supposed in a Woman of Cassandra's furious temper, upon the disappointment of her licentious ungovernable Flame, been wrought up to the destruction of Sosybius and herself, Magas might have made his appearance in Person, to have finished the business, and dispatched Ptolemy. All this might have been done without unnaturally stretching, or making the action double. By this means Treachery, Lust, Infidelity, Luxury, Cowardice, and Cruelty, had all met their due reward. But the Poet by tracking too closely the Steps of the Historian has lost the Moral, which, had he been guided by, and depended absolutely upon his own Judgement, we had no doubt been indebted to him for.  
The next and last Tragedy I shall instance in is the Mourning Bride. 
Mourning Bride.  I have had occasion already to say something of the Observation of Poetic Justice in this Play, but this being the proper place, I shall take it a little more particularly into consideration.  
The Fable of this Play is one of the most just, 
Fable very just and regular.  and regular that the Stage, either Ancient or Modern, can boast of. I mean, for the distribution of Rewards, and Punishments. For no virtuous person misses his Recompense, and no vicious one escapes Vengeance. Manuel in the prosecution and exercise of his Cruelty and Tyranny, is taken in a Trap of his own laying, and falls himself a Sacrifice in the room of him, whom he in his rage had devoted. Gonsalez villainous cunning returns upon his own head, and makes him by mistake kill the King his Master, and in that cut off, not only all his hopes, but his only Prop and Support, and make sure of his own Destruction. Alonzo, his Creature and Instrument, acts by his instructions, and shares his Fate. Zara's furious Temper and impetuous ungovernable Passion, urge her to frequent violences, and conclude at last in a fatal mistake. Thus every one's own Wickedness or Miscarriage determines his Fate, without shedding any Malignity upon the Persons and Fortunes of others. Alphonso in reward of his Virtue receives the Crowns of Valentia and Granada, and is happy in his Love; all which he acknowledges to be the Gift of Providence, which protects the Innocent, and rewards the Virtuous. Almeria, whose Virtues are much of the same kind, and who Sympathised with him in his afflictions, becomes a joint Partner of his Happiness. And Garcia, though a Servant of the Tyrant, and Son of the treacherous, ambitious Statesman, yet executing only his Sovereign's lawful Commands, and being untainted with his Father's guilt, and his Principles undebauched, is received into Alphonso's favour.  
All this as well as the Moral is summed up so fully, 
Moral excellent.  and so concisely in Alphonso's last speech, that 'twere injustice not to give it in the Poets own words.  (To Alm.) 
Thy Father fell, where he designed my Death.  
Gonsalez and Alonzo, both of Wounds  
Expiring, have with their last Breath Confessed  
The just Decrees of Heaven, in turning on  
Themselves their own most bloody Purposes,  To Garcia— 
O Garcia  
Seest thou, how just the hand of Heaven has been?  
Let us, that thro' our Innocence survive,  
Still in the Paths of Honour persevere,  
And not for past, or present ills despair:  
For Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds;  
And though a late, a sure Reward succeeds.  
These I think are all the English Tragedies, which Mr Collier has by name excepted against. Taking therefore our View of the Modern Tragedy from that quarter, which he has allotted to draw a Prospect of it in, I shall leave it to the Reader to judge, whether have raised the more beautiful structures. But if we can with these Forces, which our Enemies have raised for us, make head, and maintain our ground against the united strength of all Antiquity, what might have been done, had we had the lasting, and sizing 'em ourselves.  
I shall only take notice of two or 
Advantages of the Moderns over the Ancients in the Morals of their Fables. Providence not employed to promote Villainy.  three things which are apparently the indisputable advantage of the Moderns over the Ancients, in respect of the General Moral of their Fables.  
1st, That they never are at the expense of a Machine to bring about a wicked Design, and by consequence don't interest Providence in promoting Villainy; as the Ancients have notoriously done in many of their Plays; of which number are the Electra of Sophocles; the Electra, Orestes, Hippolytus, jon, and others of Euripides, and the Thyestes of Seneca.  
2dly, 
Nor to oppress Virtue.  That they never engage Providence to afflict and oppress Virtue, by distressing it by supernatural means, as the Ancients have manifestly done, by making their Gods the immediate Actors in or directors of the misfortunes of virtuous persons, as in the Prometheus in Chains of Aeschylus, the Oedipus of Sophocles, the Hippolytus and Hercules furens of Euripides, the Oedipus and Hercules furens of Seneca, and divers others of Antiquity.  
3dly, 
Nor to protect Malefactors.  That their Malefactors are generally punished, which those of the Ancients seldom were; but if they escape the Moderns done't provide 'em with a miraculous delivery, or have recourse to such extraordinary Methods as exceed the reach of Humane Force or Cunning, so as to entitle Providence to the Protection of 'em, which was the frequent Practice of the Ancients; as in the Electra of Sophocles; the Medea, the Orestes, the Electra, and others of Euripides; 
Modern Poets more Religious than the Ancients.  the Medea of Seneca, etc.  
From this short review of the different conduct of the Ancient and Modern Tragedians, we may see with how much more respect to Providence, and the Divine administration, our Poets have behaved themselves, than they; and how far the Balance of Religion inclines to our side. I suppose no one can be so silly, as to think, that I argue here for the truth of their Faith, but the measure of it in their respective persuasions, in which the advantage is infinitely on the side of the English Stage.  
The Fable of every Play is undoubtedly the Authors own, 
The Fable of the Poet's disposal. Characters and Expressions not so.  whencesoever he takes the Story, and he may model it as he pleases. The Characters are not so; the Poet is obliged to take 'em from Nature, and to copy as close after her, as he is able. The 〈…〉 be said for the Thoughts and Expressions, they must be suited to the Mouth and Character of the Person that speaks 'em, not the Poet's. It is not what is right or wrong in the Poet's Judgement, but what is natural, or unnatural for a Person of such a Character upon such an occasion to say, which he is to consider, and for which he is accountable only, as well by the rules of Moral as Poetical Justice. When therefore we find any thing in Plays that sounds amiss, we must examine whether it be proper to the Character or not, before we condemn the Poet, whom we may otherwise arraign as Malipiero a propos, as a Judge would the King's Evidence, if he should prefer an Indictment against 'em for speaking Treason in their Depositions.  
The Fable therefore being the main spring of the Machine in Tragedy, 
The Fable if any, the Evidence of the Poets ●●nion.  and the Poet's own proper Workmanship● 'tis by the temper and disposition of that, that we are to feel the Poet's Pulse, and find out his secret affections. Not but that we may err sometimes in our Judgements of the Poet's Morals o● other hand. For 'tis possible, that the Poet's Morals may be very good, yet the Man's stark naught, that is, that a man may be a good Moral Poet, yet a bad Man. So on the other hand we may falsely measure his Manners by his management, and impute to Malice and Design those faults, which flow from want of Judgement or Indiscretion. This is hard measure, but such as Mr Collier has been very liberal of to the Poets. It would be a very uncharitable Error, should we at any time hear the sacred mysteries of our Faith poorly explained, or weakly defended out of the Pulpit, if we should conclude, that the Preacher played booty and betrayed the cause he pretended to plead for: And I doubt it would fall heavy upon many, that now pass for honest and good Christians, I hope with justice, if their Faith were to be measured by their Performance, and their Integrity by their parts. But it would be much more unjust to 
Mr Collier's a false, and perverse Measure.  rate all the rest of their order by the deficient Standard of a few. Yet thus Mr Collier proceeds against those, to whom he thinks fit to oppose himself. And yet even thus they would not have much occasion to fear his malice, if he would proceed against 'em the proper way, and not charge as their private and real sense, the Sentiments, which they are obliged sometimes to furnish Villains and Extravagants with in conformity to their Characters, while he denies 'em the benefit of those many excellent and pious Reflections abounding in their works.  
Certainly had our Poets any such lewd Design of confounding the Distinctions between Truth and Fiction, 
The Fable the Engine of greatest and most secret Execution upon the Audience. P. 95.  between Majesty and a Pageant; of treating God like an Idol, and bantering, the Scriptures like Homer's Elysium and Hesiod's Theogonia, it would appear in the Fable, which is the part, as we have observed, that discovers most of the Poets proper Opinion, and gives him the fairest opportunity of stealing it artificially in, and poisoning the Audience most effectually with least Suspicion. For though the Fable, if skilfully contrived, be the Part which operates most powerfully, yet it works after a manner least sensible. We feel the effects without suspecting the cause, and are prejudiced without looking after a reason. If the Poets have any such villainous Plot against Virtue and Religion, they are certainly the most negligent Fellows, or the most unexperienced in the world to overlook the only place of advantage upon the whole Stage for their mischievous purpose, where they might work their Mines unmolested, and spring 'em undiscovered to most, and do the greatest execution with the least alarm to the Enemy. But they make War like Dutchmen, and sell their Enemy's Ammunition to spend upon themselves. For all their Fables are contrived and modelled for the service of Virtue and Religion, and levelled against themselves, if they be such great Enemies, and so remarkably disaffected, as Mr Collier says they are. But perhaps he may, either thro' mistake or malice, misrepresent the matter; and what was scoffingly said by the Turks to the Poles, may be seriously applied to the case before us by both Parties, that they did not know of any War betwixt 'em.  
From the management of the Fables of our Poets, 
Not abused to any ill end by our Poets.  which, being the Principal, and most Efficacious part of their Plays, undoubtedly employed most their care, 'tis plain that Mr Collier has given the World a false alarm, and endeavours to set 'em upon those as Subverters of Religion and Morality, that have with abundance of art and pains laboured in their service, and racked their Inventions to wove 'em into the most Popular diversions, and make even Luxury and Pleasure subservient and instrumental to the establishment of Moral Principles, and the confirmation of Virtuous Resolutions.  
Before I take leave of Tragedy upon this Head, I must take notice to the Reader, that in this Parallel betwixt the Ancient and Modern Tragedy, I have not wrested any thing to the unjust Prejudice of one, 
Apology for the Ancients.  or favour of tother. Nor, though I find most of the Ancient Fables defective in the general Moral, do I charge 'em with any design of under●ining the Interest, or lessening the credit and esteem of Virtue. The Moral and the Pathetic were in their days distinct Branches of Tragedy (as we have already observed from Aristotle) of which their Poets in all probability made choice, according to the encouragement they observed 'em to meet with. If therefore we find few Moral Plays amongst the remains of those extraordinary Persons the Greek Tragedians, 
Moral Plays not esteemed at Athens.  we may fairly presume, that they did not take at Athens, otherwise they would have been more cultivated. For this reason probably it was, that Aristotle took so slender notice of Moral Tragedy, as not thinking it worth while to lay down rules for the practice of that, which was no longer in use, or esteem amongst his Countrymen in his Time. Nor did this disesteem of Moral Plays proceed from any propensity to, or Habit of Vice peculiar to that Age, which might give 'em a disrelish for Virtuous Entertainments. The contrary of this is evident from several of those Tragedies, which succeeded at Athens, the Discourse in which is frequently Moral and Instructive, though the Fable itself be not. But Moral Tragedy not admitting such Incidents as were proper to move Terror or Compassion, the Springs of Passion were wanting, and consequently the Audience were but weakly affected with such sort of representations. 
Moral and Pathetic reconciled, and united by the Moderns.   
The Moderns, who were sensible of the use of one, and the power of t'other sort of Tragedy, have taken a happy Liberty of compounding 'em, and throwing the simple Tragedy quite aside, stick altogether to an Implex kind, which is at once both Moral and Pathetic. Wherein they must to their honour be acknowledged, to have made a considerable improvement of Tragedy, and to have had a singular regard to Probity and Virtue; which (without injustice to Antiquity, I may venture to affirm) had very little Interest in the Fable before. Nor can the most partial Admirer of the Ancients, 
Poetic Justice neglected by the Ancients in general.  with any colour of Justice deny this advantage to the Moderns; since neither Aristotle, nor Horace, amongst all their excellent Rules, and Observations for Dramatic Writing, have taken the least notice of Poetic Justice, which is now become the Principal Article of the Drama; which questionless they would never have forgotten, had the Practice of the Stage in their own, or preceding Ages, or even their own thoughts suggested the necessity of it. Nay so far is Aristotle from thinking it a requisite condition, that he recommends 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  the misfortunes of a Person unhappy thro' his mistake, not his Fault, as the most proper Subject for Tragedy; which is directly opposite to this Rule, which requires, that the fortune of every one should be adjusted to his Merit, whether good or bad. 'Tis true, Aristotle thinks, that 'tis inconsistent with the regard that is due to Mankind, to represent such revolutions in the Fortunes of Men, as shall make Persons eminently Virtuous unhappy, or notoriously wicked successful and prosperous. But I don't find that he made their proper Demerits the Standard, or immediate Rule for Squaring their future Fortune. And if we consider the examples he produces to his own Rule, we shall perhaps be induced to believe, that he did not insist upon a very rigorous observation of it. For of his two instances, Oedipus was (as we have already observed) a very virtuous Person, and Thyestes, according to the traditions remaining concerning him, a very wicked One. So that even while he is laying down his Rule, he seems to indulge a latitude in the observance, and to justify any Liberties, that may be taken with it, by the Precedent of the best Play, not only of Sophocles, but of all Antiquity.  
Monsieur Dacier (who, 
Monsi●ur Dacier's exception ●●o Monsieur Corneille answered.  according the humour of most Commentators, will allow no slips in his Author) strains hard to reconcile the examples to the Rule. He charges Monsieur Corneille with making an unjust exception, for want of understanding rightly, the words 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. I shall not undertake to Arbitrate the point of Monsieur Corneille's Learning, but I think his observation just, and yet in full Force, and Monsieur Dacier's answer, however Learned, no better than an Evasion. In ennumerating the good qualities, and summing up the Character of Oedipus, Mr Dacier omits his Piety towards his Country, and places the service of destroying the Sphinx to the account of his ambition, and the reward of the Crown tacked to it. His Piety I have already taken sufficient notice of elsewhere, and for his ambition let Sophocles answer, who tells us otherwise in the concluding Lines; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Who affected not base Popularity, nor courted Fortune.   
This may suffice to clear him from the imputation of Vanity and Ambition, with which Monsieur Dacier loads his Character, and added to the rest, prove him an excellent Person; one that, according to Aristotle, was too good to suffer in so extraordinary a manner.  
To digress no farther, 
Po●t●ck Justice a ●●odern ●●vention.  I think we are obliged to the Modern Tragic Poets for the introduction of Poetic Justice upon the Stage, and must own, that they were the first that made it their constant aim to instruct, as well as please by the Fable. The Ancients brought indifferently all sorts of subjects upon the Stage, which they took from History or Tradition, and were therefore more solicitous to make their stories conform to the relation, or to the public Opinion, than to Poetic Justice, or the Propriety of Tragic Action. By this means all hopes of a Moral was cut off, or if by chance the story afforded any, we are more obliged to the Poet's luck for it, than to his Skill or Care. Thus the Moral, the highest, and most serviceable improvement that ever was, or ever can be made of the Drama, is of Modern Extraction, and may very well be pleaded in bar to all claim laid in behalf of the Ancients, to preference in point of Morality, and service to Virtue, as likewise in answer to all Objections made to the Manners and Conduct of the Modern Stage in general.  
Thus the Modern Stage, 
Modern Stage on this account pr●f-rable of the Ancient.  against which Mr Collier maliciously declaims with so much bitterness, is upon this account infinitely preferable to the Athenians, which he commends and admires, and that which he rails at as the bane of Sobriety, and the Pest of Good Manners, is proved the most commodious instrument to propagate Morality, and the easiest, and most palatable Vehicle to make Instruction go down with effect. But the Violence and Partiality of some observe no bounds of Justice, and admit of no check from Modesty or Reason. But I shall take leave here, and pass on to the Fable of Comedy, against which Mr Collier's spite is more particularly leveled.  
The Fable of Comedy will give us very little trouble, 
Fable of Comedy 〈◊〉  if we consider rightly the Nature and Business of this part of the Drama. Comedy deals altogether in Ridicule, and its Subject consequently must be such as affords matter of ridiculous Mirth. All its Machinations tend to the exciting that ill natured titillation, which carries scorn and contempt along with it. It's business is to correct, and hinder the spreading of Folly and Knavery, by making 'em ridiculous, and to reform Rascals and Coxcombs by exposing 'em. Aristotle therefore has has very judiciously defined Comedy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The Imitation of the base sort of People, not in all kinds of Villainy, but in the ridiculous part, which is one sort of Turpitude.  
The Action of Comedy must be suited to the Actors, 
In Comedy the Action and Persons l●w.  who are the base sort of People, and consequently can't be of any great importance either in its nature or effects, and therefore can afford no extraordinary Moral. By the base sort of People, Persons of low Extraction or Fortune are not heremeant, but Persons who by their practices and Conduct have exposed themselves to Scandal and Contempt. From the Nature therefore, and quality of the Actors nothing great or generous can be expected from Comedy. The Duping of an old Knave, the cullying of a Coxcomb, the stealing of an Heiress from a Mercenary Guardian, are the usual exploits of Comedy; wherein though Gentlemen are sometimes concerned, yet they are, or aught always to be such, as have some blemish, or other upon 'em, otherwise they are not fit for the business they are engaged in. Comedy seems to be designed to teach Men Civil Prudence, and a convenient Management in respect of one another, rather than any thing of Morality; and their private duty. There their misfortunes and disgraces are all the immediate result of their own Folly and Mismanagement, and may therefore very well cause men to reflect upon that want of Wit and Caution, which caused themselves or others to miscarry, and teach 'em to be more wary for the future; but it would hardly confer any Grace, or mend their Principles.  
The business of Comedy being ridicule, those Vices only fall under its correction, 
The correction of Folly the proper business of Comedy  that are capable of being made ridiculous, and those only after such a manner as may raise Scorn and Contempt. For this reason Comedy seems to be more naturally disposed for the cure of men's Follies, than their Vices, those running more naturally into ridicule than these, which are more apt to raise Indignation and Aversion, and are the proper instruments of Tragedy. Not but that Vice too may sometimes be seasonably corrected in Comedy, but than it must be joined with, and wear the Livery of Folly, to help to make it ridiculous, and the object of Scorn, rather than Indignation.  
Hence it will appear, 
Perfect Virtue excluded the Comic Stage.  what sort of Persons are most proper to be employed in Comedy, which dealing altogether in Stratagem and Intrigue, requires Persons of Trick and Cunning on one hand, and easy credulous Folks on the other, otherwise the Plot will but go heavily forward. By this means all Characters absolutely perfect are excluded the Comic Stage. For what has a Man of pure Integrity to do with Intrigues of any kind? He can't assist in the execution of any design of Circumvention without forfeiting his Character; and to bring such a Character upon the Stage to be practised upon, is such an outrage to Virtue, that the most licentious of our Poets have not dared to venture upon it.  
I grant that 'tis neither necessary, 
Some Infirmity required to qualify a Character for Comedy.  nor convenient, that all the Characters in Comedy should be vicious, that were to abuse mankind, with a scandalous representation. But I maintain, that they ought all to have some failing or Infirmity, to qualify 'em for the business of the Place. Men of Honour may be made use of to punish Knaves, as Knaves to cure Fools, but their honour ought not to be too straitlaced, too squeamish and scrupulous. They must be Persons of some Liberty, that out of an over-niceness will not balk a well laid design, and spoil a Project with too much honesty. Men of Hononr may be men of Pleasure; nay, and must be so too, or we do 'em wrong to make 'em appear in such Company, as Comedy must bring 'em into.  
What other natural occasion can be assigned for embroiling a Gentleman of Quality, 
Ne Gentlemen but men of pleasure sit for Comedy.  with Usurers, Pimps, Sharpers, Jilts and Bullies, but the extravagance of his Pleasures? which they may all serve in their several capacities. The Usurer with his Wife, his Daughter, or his Money; the Pimp in his Intrigues; the Jilt, the Sharper, and the Bully in their respective Offices may assist his Revenges, and be useful Engines in those designs, where 'tis not proper for himself to appear. That no Gentlemen but of this sort should be brought upon the Comic Stage, I think, is so plain, as well from Aristotle's Definition, as from the Nature and Business of the Place; that he that disputes it forfeits all Pretence to Judgement in these matters. I mean no Gentlemen of Wit and Sense, but such as these. For Fools of what Quality soever are the proper Goods and Chattels of the Stage; they are the wrecks of understanding, which Poets, as Lords of the Manor of Wit from immemorial Prescription, have an uncontested Title to, and may dispose of, as they see fit.  
A true Comic Poet like a good Droll Painter, 
Comic Poetry and Droll Painting compared.  ought not to make his whole Piece ridiculous, and consequently ought not to draw any Face that is so regular, as not to have something amiss either in Feature or Complextion. To put a Gentleman of sound Sense and perfect Morals into Comedy, would be as unnatural, as to draw Cato dancing amongst the Boors at a Dutch Wedding. It does not therefore follow, that none but Rakes and Scoundrels must pass for Gentlemen in Comedy. A Gentleman of Wit and Honour may be judiciously introduced into it, but he must be a man of wild unreclaimed honour, whose Appetites are strong and irregular enough, to hurry him beyond his discretion, and make him act against the Conviction of his Judgement on the return of his Reason. Such a Character as this no more is unnatural, than to see a drunken Gentleman frolicking with the Mob, or kissing a Linkboy.  
Nothing is more frequent than to meet in our common Conversation, 
Such Characters real and common.  and affairs of Life, with Gentlemen of this sort, who, though they may be Men of excellent Parts, Temper, and Principles, yet in the heat of their Blood, and Pride of their Fortunes, are apt to be biased a little towards Extravagance, and not to consult the severity of Reason, or the exactness of Justice on many occasions especially in matters relating to their Pleasures.  
What therefore is so common and obvious in the World, can't be unnatural upon the Stage, but by using it improperly. To put a Gentleman upon the Office of a Villain or a Scoundrel, or to make a Man of Sense a Bubble or a Cully in the Conclusion, is an abuse to the Character, and a trespass against the Laws of the Drama. If therefore the Poet employs any of this Character, he is obliged to give him Success, notwithstanding the blemishes of his Character. For, with all his Faults, he is the best, as well as the most considerable Person, that 'tis lawful for him to make bold with. And if he is at last brought to a Sense of his Extravagance and Errors, and a resolution of amendment, the Poet has exerted his Authority to the utmost extent of his Commission; and the Laws of Comedy exact no more.  
Had Mr Collier known and considered sufficiently the nature of Comedy, 
Mr Collier's mistake concerning the Nature of Comedy.  I am apt to think, that we had never seen his whole fourth Chapter, which runs altogether upon this mistake, That no Liberties are to be indulged in Comedy, and that the principal Characters ought to be in all respects exemplary, and without Blemish. That this a mistake I hope is very plain from what has been already said. But because Mr Collier has taken the pains to back, and assert this erroneous Opinion with a tedious Harangue, and some seemingly plausible Arguments, it may not be amiss to abstract one from tother, and consider the latter distinctly, without amusing ourselves about his Pompous expressions, 
Heads of Mr Collier's charge against English Cody.  and Formal Rhetoric.  
The whole Sum of Mr Collier's long extravagant charge against the English Poets, especially the present Comic Poets, against whom this Chapter seems to be particularly leveled, may be reduced to these two heads.  
1st. That by making their Protagonists, or chief Persons Licentious or debauched they encourage Vice, and Irreligion, and discourage Virtue.  
2dly. That the rich Citizens are often represented as Misers and Cuckolds; and the Universities as Schools of Pedantry; and thereby Learning, Industry and Frugality ridiculed.  
Mr Collier, whose business all thro' his Book is Invective, not Argument, lays himself forth with all the Pomp of Formal Eloquence, and vehemence of Expression, that he is able, to aggravate the crime, and amplify the guilt of the Poets not to prove it. He is more solicitous to possess his Reader, than convince him, and for that reason le's slip the circumstance of proof as not very material, because he found it would tie him up to strict Argument, and close Reasoinng, which is not for his purpose, and insists upon the General charge of Debauchery and Impiety; which allowing him all the Liberties of Declamation and Harangue, give him ample Field-room to publish, and display his Parts, and his Malice together; which he does most egregigiously, and Flourishes most triumphantly. Never did learned Recorder insult poor Culprit in more formidable Oratory, than he does the Poets.  
'Tis true, he offers several instances in confirmation of his Assertion, which he draws from divers of our English Comedies, which, with the untoward gloss he puts upon 'em, seem to favour his malicious purpose. These I shall consider in their proper places, as far as is absolutely requisite to our purpose, and leave the farther justification of 'em to the Gentlemen more immediately concerned, who I suppose will not be wanting to their own necessary defence.  
We shall therefore proceed to the 
His first Article examined.  examination of the main Branch of his accusation, contained in the first Article, which is the neglect of Poetic justice, the encouraging of Vice with Success, and the Discouraging of Virtue.  
The whole weight of this Objection turns upon this hinge, that the Protagonists, or chief Persons in Comedy are generally vicious and successful, which he pretends to be against the Law of Comedy, which is to reward Virtue and punish Vice. This objection, as he observes, was started by Mr Dryden against himself in his preface to his Mock-Astrologer. But he objects against the answer, which Mr Dryden there makes to it. That he knows no such Law constantly observed in Comedy, either by the Ancients or Moderns.  
This Mr Collier calls a lame Defence, 
This Rule repugnant to the Nature of Comedy.  and I agree with him, though we go upon different grounds. For I think Mr Dryden has clogged his answer with an unnecessary restriction, and by the over Modesty of it weakened the sufficiency of it. I grant, that the neglect, or contempt of a Law, does by no means destroy the Authority of it. But I shall carry it something farther, and say that no such Law ever was at all observed, or so much as prescribed to Comedy. Nor do I herein trust to the Strength of my own Memory, or presume upon the extraordinary reach and extent of my Inquiries. But I draw this Conclusion from the nature of Comedy itself, which will admit of no such Rule in the latitude Mr Dryden proposes, and Mr Collier maintains it.  
Comedy, 
Reason why.  which deals altogether in ridicule, can take no cognizance of, and give no correction to those Vices and Immoralities which it cannot expose on that side. For this reason, the Sallies of Youth, and the Licentiousness of men of Sense and Fortune, uniess they be such as bring their understandings into question, and make 'em ridiculous, how ever unjustifiable, immortal, and offensive they may be to sober people, escape the censure of Comedy, because they can't be tried in her way.  
This Consideration it was, 
Indulgence of Plautus and Terence to vicious young People misplaced by Mr Collier. P. 149.  that induced Terence and Plautus to indulge their Young Men so far as they did, and afford so many instance of Favour to vicious young people, as Mr Collier allows they did. He is mistaken, when he fancies, that because those Poets had a greater compass of Liberty in their Religion, and that Debauchery did not lie under those discouragements of Penalty and Scandal with them, as it does with us; therefore their Poets indulged themselves in those Liberties, which otherwise they durst not have taken. Plautus and Terence, especially the latter, were nice Observers of Mankind, and greater Masters of their own Art, than to take an Improper Liberty, only because 'twas not dangerous. But their Religion, false as it was, and the Laws of their Country, which were very severe at Rome in this case, required strict Morality, and Regularity of Life. If therefore they had suspected, that these Indulgences had tended any ways to the Debauching of their Youth, and the Corrupting of their Manners, they durst not have ventured 'em into public view. Nor would their Magistrates, to whose Censure they were particularly submitted, have suffered examples of such ill consequence to have been produced openly. Besides, Cato, whose Virtue was as sour and austere, and perhaps as great as Mr Collier's, was a great encourager of 'em, which 'tis non probahe would have been, had he smelled any such dangerous Plot in 'em. So that the Authority of these Precedents may stand, and be of service, notwithstanding the wide difference betwixt Heathenism, and Christianity, and Mr Collier's Opinion to the contrary.  
But Plautus and Terence have taken no such unjustifiable liberties, 
Plautus and Terence faithful Copyers from Nature.  as he imagines. They have copied faithfully from Nature, and their Draughts come incomparably near the Life. No outrage is done to the Original, by enlarging or contracting the Features, in order to entertain the Audience with Monsters of Dwarves, but Humane Life is depicted in its true and just Proportion. If therefore the Images, which their Plays reflect, displease any froward Cynic, the Fault is in the Face, not the Glass which gives a true representation; and he quarrels with Providence, whose Creature Mankind is, if he dislikes the fight. Any liberties therefore, which these Poets have taken, wherein Nature is not wronged, descend undoubtedly to all those that succeed 'em upon the Comic Stage, who have a right to all the Privileges of their Predecessors upon the same terms.  
But Plautus and Terence made their young fellows, as Nature frequently does, wild and extravagant; at which Mr Collier is scandalised, and appeals from their Judgement to  
Horace, 
Opinion of Horace enquired into. P. 149.  who (he says) was as good a Judge of the Stage, as either of those Comedians, yet seems to be of another opinion. Let us see how far the Precept of Horace for the drawing of youth in general differs from the Practice of those Comedians. Horace tells us, that the young Squire, as soon as he has shaken off the yoke of a Tutor, is for Dogs and Horses, (and Whores too, as appears by the sequel of his Character) that he is 
Cereus in vitium flecti, 
Art. Poet.  monitoribus asper  
Vtilium tardus Provisor, prodigus aeris,  
Sublimis, cupidusque, & amata relinquere pernix.  
Prone to Vice, Impatient of Reproof,  
Careless of things necessary, Prodigal,  
Proud, Eager, and Inconstant in his Desires.   
This is not a bare character, 
This not a bare Character but a Rule.  a simple description of the humours of young people; but 'tis a Precept, a Rule for Artists to draw 'em by. And therefore aught to include nothing contingent, or unnecessary; but every thing contained in it ought to be the inseparable Adjunct of the Species, such as a true Idea of the Generality cannot be given without, though perhaps some Individuals may be met with, that want it. Upon this rule let Mr Collier arraign these Authors if he can. For though they wrote before Horace, and consequently can't plead his Precept in their defence, yet the observation of Nature was common to them with him, and the reason of the rule as well known to 'em. I suppose therefore, if Horace be made their Judge in this case, they must be acquitted, otherwise he will condemn himself.  
But Mr Collier tells you, 
P. 149.  that Horace condemns the obscenities of Plautus, and tells you that Men of Fortune and Quality, in his time, would not endure immodest Satire.  
This I believe is a discovery of Mr Collier ' s own, 
Sense of Horace in this place mistaken or perverted by Mr Collier.  for I don't find any such accusation in Horace; he tells us, that he did by no means admire the Versification and Raillery of Plautus, as their Ancestors had injudiciously done, that his Numbers were not true, nor his Wit Gentile.  
An nostri Proavi Plautinos, & numeros, &  
Laudavere Sales; nimium patienter utrumque,  
(Ne dicam Stultè) mirati: si modo ego, & vos  
Scimus inurbanum, lepido seponere dicto,  
Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus, & art.  
Here he excepts against the Numbers, and Raillery of Plautus, and arraigns the Taste, and Judgement of their Ancestors, that approved 'em. But I don't find that he lays Immodesty, or Obscenity to his charge.  
But this seems to be a strain in emulation of his famous Predecessor Mr Prynne, 
Parity of reasoning betwixt Mr Prynn and Mr Collier.  whose Arguments and way of Reasoning Mr Collier inherits as well as quarrel, with a double portion of his Spirit. Mr Prynne was offended at the appearance of Actresses upon the Stage, and in the Fervour of his Zeal finds it forbidden in Scripture; Because, says he, St Paul expressly prohibits Women from speaking publicly in the Church. Mr Collier in a fit of Criticism something like this, takes occasion from this Passage of Horace, to show how apt a Scholar he is; and not to be behind hand with Mr Prynne, for a Reason, has recourse to his usual method of construction, (in which we have already seen he has a singular dexterity) and converts Horace's charge of inharmonious Verse and Clownish Jests, to Obscenity and Immodest satire.  
To cover this piece of Legerdemain, 
Another outrage to Horace.  he confounds this Passage with another as little to his purpose. Horace from talking of Tragedy proceeds to lay down some Maxims for the better regulation of the Satyrae, then in use upon the Roman Stage. These Satyrae were a sort of Interludes introduced betwixt the Acts in Tragedy to refresh, and divert the Audience. The Persons represented were the Satyri or Fauni, or train of Bacchus or Pan; Persons supposed to be of very loose and virulent Tongues, and Rustic Behaviour. And accordingly the matter of these Poems was generally scandal, and Clownish raillery, in which to gain the applause of the Mob, they often took such saucy Liberties in point of Scandal and Undecency, that they People of better Quality were offended at 'em. And Horace assures us, that the Quality and Mob could never agree in their Verdict about 'em.  
Sylvis deducti caveant (me Judice) Fauni, 
Art. P●●t.   
Ne, velut innati triviis, ac pene forenses,  
Aut nimium teneris juvenenter versibus unquam,  
Aut immunda crepent, ignominiosaque dicta  
Offenduntur enim, quibus est Equus, & Pater, & res:  
Nec, siquid fricti ciceris probat, & nucis emptor,  
AEquis accipiunt animis, donantve corona.  
But what's all this to Plautus and Comedy, who never had any Dealings with these Satyrae.  
After this notable exploit, he launches out into the wide Sea of Poetry, and flourishes with the Character that Horace gives of the first Poets, Orpheus, Amphion, &c, whom he celebrates as the civilizers of Mankind; but as that affords little matter either of Honour or Reproach to these, that came so long after them, when the Muses, though they might have kept their Virtue, yet had lost very much of their Power, and instead of commanding the Passions of their Auditors, were forced on many occasions to comply with and submit to their Whimsies, and humour their capricious Appetites: It will be impertinent (whatever licence Mr Collier may assume) to insist any longer upon a case no way Parallel. For this Character, which Horace bestows upon those Poets, was intended as a compliment of Poetry in general, but not to reflect any honour upon the Drama in particular, (much less Comedy, the more recent branch of it) which was not invented till long after the time of Orpheus and Amphion.  
His next use that he makes of the Authority of Horace, 
Use of a Chorus according to Horace.  he draws from his Instructions about the Office of the Chorus. The Chorus (Horace tells us after Aristotle) ought to bear the part of an Actor, and take care to say nothing incoherent, or incongruous to the main design, but to make his Song of a piece with the whole. From hence (Mr Collier infers that) 'tis plain, that Horace would have no immoral Character have either Countenance or good Fortune upon the Stage.  
But here he foresees an Objection, 
Objection.  that the Chorus was left off in Comedy before Horace's time, and that these directions must needs therefore be intended for Tragedy. To which  
He answers, 
Mr Collier's answer.  that the Consequence is not good. For the use of the Chorus is not inconsistent with Comedy. The Ancient Comedians had it. Aristophanes is an Instance. I know 'tis said the Chorus was left out, in that which they call New Comedy.  
Had Mr Collier considered who 'twas that said this, 
Reply to Mr Collier's answer.  he ought to have acquiesced in his Authority; but since he is so unwilling to confess, he must be convicted, and therefore we shall endeavour to prove the validity of the consequence upon him. I shall trouble the Reader with the Depositions of but one Evidence, but he shall be, like Conscience in this case, Mille Testes. Horace tells us, that the Old Comedy grew so intolerably abusive and scandalous, that a Law was made to curb it, and that from that time the Chorus was silenced.  
Successit vetus his Comaedia, 
Art. Poet.  nonsine multâ  
Laude, said in vitium libertas excidit, & vim  
Dignam lege regi. Lex est accepta, Chorusque  
Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure nocendi.  
This testimony of Horace is full against Mr Collier, 
Chorus in Old Comedy.  and a plain argument that he never intended his directions for a Chorus for the use of Comedy. The Chorus in the Old Comedy had the greatest freedom of Speech, and took the boldest liberties of any part of the Play, and consequently gave the greatest offence, and stood most in need of Correction. And Horace seems to insinuate, that the Chorus was not only scandalously offensive, but that it was expressly filenced by Law, when he says, 
— Lex est accepta, Chorusque  
Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure nocendi.   
As if the whole Business of the Chorus in Comedy had been Scandal, and the Law levelled against the Chorus only. The event justifies this Exposition; For after the Publication of the Laws against the Liberty of Scandal, which was grown so rampant in the Old Comedy, the Chorus vanished and appeared no more upon the Athenian Stage in Comedy, that we know of.  
This Mr Collier denies, 
Plutus of Aristophanes. p. 150.  and fortifies himself and his Assertion with matter of Fact. For Aristophanes his Plutus is New Comedy with a Chorus in't.  
In this Assertion there are two mistakes, 
Double mistake of Mr Collier.  which being Critical ones, I don't much wonder at, because they contribute towards making the Book Uniform, and preserve the Integrity of the Piece. Yet he building with so much assurance upon 'em, 'twill be but Charity to let him see, that his Foundation is too weak to support the weight of the superstructure he has laid upon it.  
The first of these is, that the Plutus of Aristphanes is not New Comedy.  
2dly. That in the Plutus, there is no Chorus.  
The Learned (whom I suppose Mr Collier means by they) divided the Greek Comedy into the three Classes, the Old, the Middle, and the New; not to mention that the Old Comedy itself is subdivided into two Ages; the latter of which commences with Cratinus, who first distinguished the Parts, disposed the Acts, and fixed the number of Actors; and comprehends Eupolis, Aristophaenes, and the rest of the Comic Poets till the conclusion of the Popular Authority, and the beginning of the Oligarehy, from which time to the time of Alexander, that which is now called the Middle Comedy flourished, till Menander, and the Poets of his time, Philemon, Diphilus, Apollodorus, and others, quite altered the Face of the Comic Stage, and introduced that which is now called the New Comedy.  
By this Divifion, which is both just, 
By this the Plutus Old Comedy.  and accurate, the Plutus falls to the share of the Old Comedy; to which, notwithstanding the deviations therein from the former Practice of Aristophanes, it does most properly belong. But if Mr Collier will have the Plutus of Aristophanes to be the first step towards the Reformation of Comedy at Athens, I shall not much dispute the matter with him. Because he has in that abridged himself of much of that Liberty, which he has used in his former Plays. But granting even this, Aristophanes can at most but lead up the Van of the Middle Comedy; and is very far distanced by the New.  
For though Aristophanes has in some measure altered his Conduct in his Plutus, 
Fable of Old Comedy of what kind.  yet he retains absolutely the Form and stamp of the Old Comedy, and retrenches only some offensive Liberties. The Fable of the old Comedy was altogether Chimerical, and the Characters Romantic and Whimsical, neither of 'em drawn from the Observation of Nature, or the business of Humane Life, but pumped out of the extravagance of the Poet's Brain. The Spirit of these Entertainments consisted in the Piquancy of the Raillery and Jests, and the boldness of the Scandal, in which they took excessive Liberties with particular Persons, especially the Chorus, and to which the success of 'em was wholly owing. 
Characters of Cratinus, Eupolis, and Aristophanes how differenced.  Cratinus is said to have been very bold, and to have taxed people freely by their names, without miucing the matter, (I had almost said without Fear or Wit) and charged them with all sorts of Crimes, without respect to Persons. Eupolis was somewhat more discreet, couching real Crimes and Persons under shame Names, and lashing his Fellow Citizens on the backs of feigned Offenders. Aristophanes was frequently no less plain than Cratinus in respect to Names, but his Wit was of another sort, less Sullen and Chagrine. He turned all into Jest, and bantered those things, which the others reprehended after a manner more serious and severe.  
Menander and the New Comedians form their Models after a very different manner. 
New Comedy how differing from the Old.  For having particularly Scandal, which had given so much Offence in the Old Comedy, they began to furnish themselves from Observation and Experience, rather than Invention, and to employ their Judgements more than their Fancies. They raised the structure of their Plays upon the Foundations of Nature, and made the Intrigues of the World, and the common Affairs of Life the Subjects of 'em, and the different orders of Mankind. A hard Father, a difficult Master, a wild Son, a crafty Servant, an impudent Pander, a Mercenary Courtesan, and a Captive Virgin, were the most usual Characters; which being opposite to, and concerned with one another, set the Plot naturally to work, and give occasion to set all the Wheels of the Machine a going.  
This may suffice to give us an Idea of the difference between the Old Comedy and the New, 
Plutus not New Comedy.  and to convince us that the Plutus of Aristophanes, which deals altogether in unaccountable Designs and surprising Events, and works by Unnatural Machine's to a Chimerical, Romantic end, is not New Comedy; though the Poet contrary to his Custom makes use of Feigned Names, and lays aside the Chorus. For though these Innovations be here made in Comedy, yet both the matter and the Form (wherein consisted the main difference between the Old Comedy and the New) remaining still the same with the rest of his Plays, it can by no means be admitted into the New, both matter and form of which were different, if not directly opposite to the former. 
Satire of the Old Comedy particular. Of the New general.  For in the Old Comedy they proceeded from Generals that were Chimerical and false, to argue particulars that were real and true. In the New from Particulars that were imaginary and false, they reprehended Generals that were real. The Old Comic Poets generally devised some extravagant and unnatural, or at least improbable tale, into which they took occasion to thrust particular Facts and Persons that were real, and well known. The New made use of such Intrigues and Persons as were frequent and familiar amongst Mankind, and thereby corrected the common Faults, such as Avarice, Fraud, etc. but copied neither the Actions, nor Manners of Individuals; and so reflected not particularly upon any One. The first resembled a Limner, that could copy the Features of a Face, but could only draw Individuals like, ye could not design; the latter a true Historical Painter, that aimed rather at expressing the Manners, and Passions of Mankind than the countenances. In whose pieces you should not amongst a Thousand meet one Face, that you distinctly knew, yet none but what were natural and significant, and such as you must acknowledge you saw every day. The difference therefore betwixt the Old Comedy and the New is as great and evident, as betwixt the Paintings of Raphael Urbin, or Michael Angelo, and those of Sir Anthony Vandike, or Sir Peter Lely. I shall not therefore insist upon those lesser differences of Phrase and Metre, those already given, being sufficient to inform a very indifferent Judge.  
However, 
Arisstophanes' the Bginner of the Middle Comedy.  as Aristophanes has in this Play varied his Conduct in some things from the Practice of the rest of the Old Comedians, and of himself in his former Pieces, he seems to challenge the first place in the Middle Comedy, which the Learned have found it necessary to distinguish both from the Old and the New. Because several alterations were made in Comedy, of which perhaps the Omission of the Chorus was none of the least considerable, yet neither the Model or Design were totally changed till the time of Menander, and his Cotemporaries.  
Mr Collier's second mistake in relation to the Plutus of Aristophanes is, 
No Chorus in the Plutus.  that it has a Chorus in't. If he means that there is a part in this Play, which is sustained by a Person or Persons under the name of Chorus, Matter of Fact is directly for him: But if he thinks that there is any such thing as a true Chorus in it, it is as plain against him. This matter will easily be decided, if we consider the Nature, and Office of a Chorus in the Old Comedy.  
The Chorus in Comedy, 
Office of the Chorus in Comedy.  was a Person consisting of divers, either Men or Women, or both, and assisted in two Capacities. One as an Actor, or Party concerned to promote and carry on the main design, and help forward the Action of the Play, which is common to the Chorus with the other Actors, and does not distinguish it from 'em. The other, as the Poet's Representative, to make the Parabases, or Transitions from the Actors, (with whom only as an Actor the Chorus is concerned) to the Gods, or to the Audience. To the Gods, to invoke their Aid, or celebrate their Praises, as the occasion suggested. To the Audience, to inform 'em of what was supposed to pass extra Scenam behind the Scenes, to make the Action of the Play entire, or to make reflections on what passed upon the Stage for the Instruction of the Audience, and to tax the evil Practices of such Citizens, as were obnoxious to the Poet, and the Public. This was the part by which it at least gave offence, by the disorderly liberties which it took; and sometimes to acquaint the Audience with the Poet's hopes and fears, his acknowledgements and complaints, which last part of the business of the Chorus is answered by the Prologue among the Romans.  
I shall not trouble the Reader with the Grammatical division of the parts of the Chorus, 
The parts Essential to a Chorus omitted in the flutus.  (viz.) Ode, Antode, Strophe, and Antistrophe, etc. which signify nothing to the point before us. But I shall desire the Reader to take notice that in the Plutus of Aristophanes, this part which alone constitutes the Office, and Business of a Chorus, and which only distinguishes it from a common Actor is entirely omitted. The Chorus in this Play appears but as an ordinary Actor, and addresses itself to the other Actors only, comes on, and goes off without once singing or speaking apart from the rest. The Chorus therefore, as it is called, in this Play might more properly have been personated by a single man, and called by any other name, since it performs nothing of the Office.  
The Observation of this defect of the Essential part of the Chorus, made the Learned 
* Etiam in ●jusdem Pluto Chori desiderantur, quod & alibi monebamus: ita tamen ut non omissus, sed exemptus videatur. Poetic. lib. 1. cap. viij.  Julius Scaliger think, that this Play had been castrated, and that the Chorus (which he confesses to be wanting) was not omitted, but taken away since the writing of it. But whether it were, as Scaliger suspects, taken out after it was finished, or omitted in the writing, is not very material; 'tis plain we have it not, and 'tis very probable that 'twas the Author's own fear of offending, that deprived us of it; the want of which caution in his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 cost Cratinus his Life. For had the Chorus of the Plutus ever been made public, I see no reason why that, as well as the rest of his Choruses, should not have been transmitted to us. I would advise Mr Collier in the next Greek Play he citys, to read farther than the List of the Persons of the Drama. For 'tis apparently negligence, that has led him into this Error, and made him think, that because he found a Chorus there, it must needs be in the Play, which he would not have allowed to be a legitimate Chorus, had he read the Play, and known the business of a Chorus. 'Tis yet in his Election which excuse shall stand for him.  
Mr Collier's Instances therefore signifies nothing to his Argument, because it does not prove a Chorus consistent with the New Comedy.  
1st, Because the Plutus in which he instances is not New Comedy.  
2dly, Because (though it were New Comedy) it has no Chorus.  
So that, I suppose, we may lay the Authority of Aristophanes aside in this case.  
We shall not trouble the Reader with a particular of the Fables of Aristophanes, which are so extravagantly Romantic, that 'tis impossible they should be edifying. And therefore I suppose Mr Collier will not play the Morality of the Greek Comedy upon us from that Quarter.  
But he proceeds to prove the continuance of the Chorus in Comedy by an oblique Inference from Aristotle, 
Unconc●●●● Inference from Aristotle.  who lived after this Revolution of the Stage, (yet) mentions nothing of the omission of the Chorus. 
P. 150.  But in Mr Collier ' s opinion, rather supposes the continuance of it, by saying the Chorus was added by the Government long after the Invention of Comedy.  
Here the Silence of Aristotle concerning the omission of the Chorus in Comedy, 
Silence of Aristotle no argument in this Case  is made an Argument of the Continuance of it; and by an odd sort of Sophistry, he concludes, that because he has taken notice of the first Institution of it, he must needs do the same for the disuse of it, had he been acquainted with it.  
By the same way of arguing he might have proved, that Aristophanes was the the last of the Comic Poets before Aristotle, because he has made no mention of any that succeeded him; and yet we are sufficiently informed, that there were divers between Aristotle and Aristophanes.  
But if at this distance we must needs be conjecturing at reasons, 
Reason of Aristotle's silence in this point.  for that which passed so long ago, a much more natural account may be given of this Silence, than that which Mr Collier strains so hard for. Aristotle was a man of extraordinary Capacity and Judgement, and did not talk so impertinently as Mr Collier supposes he would have done, if he had had opportunity. Aristotle, in this Treatise of Tragedy, gives a very brief account of the Rise and Progress of the Drama, 
His account of the Rise of the Drama.  and as his subject obliged him, tells us, that the two Branches, Tragedy and Comedy, arose both from the same Spring, viz. the Hymns to Bacchus, the former from the Dithyrambi, which contained his Praises and Exploits, 
Cap. 4.  the latter from the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Progress of Comedy 〈◊〉.  a sort of obscene Songs composed of the same Deity, which in conformity to the Law were still continued his time in the Villages.  
In the next Chapter he proceeds to the Definition of Comedy, in order to illustrate the difference betwixt that and Tragedy; and then informs us, that the first steps towards the reducing Comedy to Form and Order, were made in the dark, and the marks of 'em too far obliterated to be traced backwards, through public neglect, that 'twas long ere it came to be Acted at the Expense of the Public. For that's the meaning in this place, of the Magistrates giving the Chorus, that is paying the Actors. For he immediately subjoins, that all before that time were Volunteers in this Service, that is, acted gratis.  
In this account of the growth of Comedy, 
Brevity of Aristotle.  Aristotle according to his usual Method, is very concise, and does not make one step out of his way to gratify any Curiosity, which he foresaw that some of his Readers might have. But Mr Collier, who reasons after a manner very different from the Philosopher, would lead him a Wild Goose Chase quite out of his road, to tell when the Chorus in Comedy was silenced, though 'twas nothing to his purpose, and a long way from his Text; or force him to confess against his Conscience that he knows nothing of the matter. But Aristotle, who was a better Judge than Mr Collier of what was proper and necessary to his subject, reserves this point to another occasion, and in the preceding Chapter reprimands the unseasonable Curiosity and Impatience of those, 
Cap. 4.  that require decisions out of Time and Order. Which had Mr Collier carefully read, this Argument probably had been suppressed.  
However, 
A particular Treatise of Comedy written by Aristotle, but lost.  to oblige him with a little scratching where it itches, I must desire him to take notice, that at that time Aristotle had actually written, or designed at least to write another Book concerning Comedy in particular, and therefore prudently forbore to use those Materials here, which he knew would be more serviceable in another place. This Book has been long lost, and therefore there lies no Appeal to it on this occasion. Yet because he has such a mind to make Aristophanes the Father of the New Comedy, we'll stretch a point farther than we are bound by the Laws of polemics; and to show that we are fair Adversaries, point him out a Play, that may perhaps serve his turn somewhat better than the Plutus. The Cocalus, one of the last Plays of Aristophanes, which is lost, is said by some learned men to have been the Model, which Menander copied exactly, and took his design of the New Comedy from. If this be true, Aristophanes may in some sense claim the New Comedy as his Issue. But then Mr Collier must not say a word more of the Chorus. For 'tis certain that Menander used none, and very probable, that the Cocalus had none neither, if that were his Model.  
By this it may appear, 
Chorus not used in the New Comedy.  that whether a Chorus be consistent with New Comedy or not, it was not used in it by the Ancients. Nor was it indeed fit to be used according to the liberties of Aristophanes. And we may conclude from the practice of all Ages and Nations ever since, that they thought those Freedoms essential to the Chorus of Comedy, when they chose rather to lay it wholly aside than to reform it. If Moliere has, after two thousand years' discontinuance, ventured to bring a Chorus again upon the Comic Stage, I don't find that his performances of that kind have any extraordinary effect, or that they stir up many Imitators to follow his Example. Moliere was arrived at the second Infancy of his Poetry, and might want these helps to keep his Plays upon their Legs, which by the first Comic Poets were made use of to teach theirs to go upright. His more vigorous productions scorned those Crutches, which the Issue of his old Age, that brings the Infirmities of its Parent along with it into the world, is forced to have recourse to for its support.  
But to what end would Mr Collier introduce the Chorus into the English Comedy? 
Chorus altogether improper for the Comic Stage in England.  We have no Hymns, no Anthems to be sung upon the Stage; nor no Music, or Dancing, but what it as well or better performed by the ordinary Method now in use, than it could be by a Chorus. The main business of a Chorus is cut off by our Religion, and the rest rendered useless and unnecessary, by the method and disposition of our Comedies. Something like it we have still in use, though not in our Theatres, yet at our Puppet Shows; 
Used at Puppet Shows.  where Chorus stands before the Scenes, and explains to the Spectators what they see, and informs 'em what shall happen afterwards, makes his Wise reflections on what is past, and sometimes enters into Dialogue with his little Actors, as a Party concerned, and talks to the purpose like one of them. This is exactly the Office of a Chorus, and therefore I don't see why the fellow that discharges it mayn't wear the Title; except it be, that the Authors of that sort of Drama, are generally too illiterate to know from whence they originally fetched their Precedent. Here is nothing of the duty of a Chorus omitted, except the Singing, Dancing, and Idolatrous Part, which, as we have already observed, are all either better supplied otherwise, or absolutely inconsistent with our Religion and Stage.  
Mr Collier indeed seems to assign the Chorus another Office. 
Function assigned the Chorus by Mr Collier.  He would have it to be a sort of Monitor, or Chaplain to the Play, to preach to the Audience, and correct the Disorders of the Stage. This is a new Function, for which I doubt he can produce no warrant from Aristophanes, or Precedent from Moliere. 'Tis an Office of his own creating, and therefore he would do well to execute it a while himself, to instruct the Players, and teach 'em the knack of Preaching, in which they are yet unexercised.  
But all this Torrent of Misreasoning and false Rhetoric flows from one Spring, 
Original Error of Mr Collier.  one Original Error has branched itself out thus amply. Mr Collier knows, that the business of Comedy is to instruct by example; and he mistakenly imagines, that these aught to be Examples for Imitation. Whereas, if he considers the nature of Comedy, he will find just the reverse of this fancy to be true. For, as we have already taken notice, it can employ no perfectly upright Characters, and consequently can afford no Examples, but for Caution.  
Nor is Comedy therefore to be thought imperfect, 
Loose Characters in Comedy no Encouragement to Debauchery.  any more than the Law, which makes no other provision for the encouragement of Virtue and good Actions, than by punishing Vice and Villainy. What Mr Collier objects in this case is groundless, that the Poets, by dressing up an imperfect, or debauched Character, with the embellishments of Wit and Sense, and other good Qualities, and crowning it with Success at last, pave the way to Licentiousness and Debauchery. For, whether the Poet brings such a Character to a solemn Resolution of Reforming at last, or not, which yet they generally do, 'tis evident, that the success which attends it, is not given to the Licentiousness, but to the Wit and Sense, or other good Qualities, which are predominant in the Character. He therefore that can take Success so bestowed, and circumstantiated as it is usually in Comedy, for an encouragement to Debauchery must have a very depraved Apprehension.  
But Mr Collier is implacably enraged at the Poets, 
Ridiculous Fear if Mr Collier.  for mixing such Beauties and such Blemishes in one Piece; and is in a Panic Fear, lest the Beauty of the whole should tempt Folks to ape the Deformities of it. This is as ridiculous an Apprehension, as if any awkard Fellow should see a Beau in all his Glory with dirty Shoes, and should fancy that he made that splendid Figure purely by virtue of the dirt upon his Shoes, and resolve never to have his own cleaned again. A fine Face, with a cast of the Eyes, may move the Beau's and the Ladies to wish for such Features, and such a Complexion, yet it would scarce win 'em to endeavour to squint like it. Whatever Mr Collier may think, the Understanding of our Youth is not so very depressed and low, but they can very readily distinguish between the obvious Beauties, and Defects of a Character, and are not to be fooled like Dotterels into a vicious Imitation. If a Man should know a Pickpocket that was an excellent Accountant, or a Forger of false Notes that was an incomparable Writing-master, it were very easy, and very commendable, for any one to imitate their good Qualities, without receiving any taint or impression from their Rogueries.  
However, Mr Collier observes abundance of Licentiousness and Impurity in the world, 
Theatres wrongfully accused by him.  and is resolved to lay it all at the doors of the Theatres. He sees up and down a great number of figures like those that are exposed upon the Stage, and he wisely concludes, that the Models must needs be taken from thence, and that these men are but the Player's apes, which is directly contrary to the Truth. For these are the Originals, of which those upon the Stage are but the Copies, the Images, which that, like a Glass, reflects back upon 'em  
Chorus, 
Sense of Horace again perverted.  or non Chorus, Mr Collier bushes still forward upon the mistaken, Authority of Horace; and maintains that Horace having expressly mentioned the Beginning and Progress of Comedy, discovers himself more fully. He advises a Poet to form his work upon the Precepts of Socrates and Plato, 
P. 151  and the Models of Moral Philosophy. This was the way to preserve Decency, and to assign a proper Fate and Behaviour to every Character. Now if Horace would have his Poet governed by the Maxims of Morality, he must oblige him to Sobriety of Conduct, and a just Destribution of Rewards and Punishments.  
To try the validity of this Argument, we must have recourse to the Original, which will show us some misapplication, and some mistake of Horace's meaning in this short Paragraph. Mr Collier links this advice of Horace immediately to his account of the Rise and Progress of Comedy; and that he may appropriate it solely to Comedy, skips over a transition of twenty lines, by which the Poet artificially passes from the particular of Comedy to Poetry in general; and takes occasion to say, that a good Poet ought to be a wise Man, and acquainted with the Writings of the Philosophers. For Socrates appears in this place as the Representative of the whole Body of Moral Philosophers, and not for himself and Plato only, as Mr Collier Imagines.  
Scribendi recte sapere est Principium &  
●ons. 
Hor. Art. Poet.   
Rem tibi Socraticae poterunt ostendere chartae.  
The reason of this he immediately subjoins, which will also make the application for us. For, says he, The man that knows what is due to his Country, and his Friends, his obligations to Parents and Kindred, the Laws of Hospitality, and the duty of a Senator, a Judge, and a General, knows enough to enable him to do Justice to every Character.  
Qui didicit Patriae quid debeat, 
Ibid.  & quid amicis:  
Quo sit amore Parens, quo Frater amandus & Hospes,  
Quod sit Conscripti, quod judicis officium, quae  
Parts in bellum missi ducis: ille profecto  
Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique.  
This List of Qualifications seems prepared only for Tragic and Epic Poetry. Comedy, which concerns none but the lesser Intrigues of Mankind, and the private Affairs of particular Families, or Persons, has no dealings with the Public, or its Magistrates; and therefore does not seem to be comprehended in the aim of these directions.  
Yet, 
This Advice Political, not Moral.  if Mr Collier will have it included, he ought to have shown how far it was affected in particular upon a fair exposition. But that method would not serve his turn. For Horace in this passage, does not advise the Study of Morality, but Politics, which could best satisfy demands of this nature. He did not expect that the Poets should tie their Characters up to severe duty, and make every one act up to the strict Rules of Morality, and be guided by the dictates of right Reason and Justice, or otherwise to punish 'em always in proportion to the Deviations they made from 'em, as Mr Collier insinuates. All that he required was, that a Poet should know how it became the several orders of men to behave themselves in civil Societies, according to their respective Ranks, Degrees, and Qualities; that they might thereby be qualified to give distinct Images of every kind, whether good or bad, without mixing of Characters, or confounding Ideas. Rectum est Index sui, & obliqui, was his Rule in this case, and 'tis a true one, a right notion of things will certainly discover a false one. For this he advised his Poet, to consult the Philosophers, and to dive into the political Reasons of these matters, without which their view of 'em would be but superficial and confused.  
Yet after all he gave him very large Privileges, and extended his Charter, as far as the observation of Humane Nature, he allowed him the liberty of saying any thing that Providence laid before him, provided he kept close to the Original. To this end he bids him look upon the Examples that men set him in their Lives and Manners, and thence learn to draw true pictures of Mankind.  
Respicere exemplar vitae, morumque jubebo.  
Doctum Imitatorem, & veras hinc ducere voces.  
The Moors, 
Manners here signified Poetical not Mor●●  or Manners here mentioned by Horace, are the Poetical, not Moral, the distinction betwixt which Mr Collier very well knows, as appears by his making use of it, when 'tis for his turn, though he wilfully overlooks it in many other places, where the notice of it would be more natural, but less for his malicious purpose. However, since he has given a sort of definition, though an imperfect one, of Poetical Manners, I shall give it the Reader in his own words. And because 'tis the only Statute Law of Parnassus, by which the Poets can fairly be tried for any misdemeanour, either of Character or Expression, I shall supply the Defects or Mr Collier's report of it from Aristotle, who is more full and clear.  
Manners, 
Mr Collier's description of Poetical Manners  in the Language of Poetry, is a propriety of Actions and Persons. To succeed in this business there must be a regard had to Age, 
P. 165.  Sex, and Condition: And nothing put into the mouths of Persons, which disagrees with any of these circumstances. 'Tis not enough to say a witty thing, unless it be spoken by a likely Person, and upon a proper occasion.  
In this account I observe many things deficient, 
Defective and Esiv●cal.  something equivocal, which I shall first take notice of, and then proceed to supply the Defects. The three things, Mr Collier recommends to a Poet's, or Reader's careful observation, and regard, are Age, Sex, and Condition. Of these, the first and the last, Age and Condition, are equivocal terms. The Author has not taken care to explain, whether he means by Age, the Age of a Person, or the Age of the World, which he is supposed to live in. For to both these great regard is to be had, because they difference the Characters equally. A noble Roman of four and twenty in the first Ages of the Commonwealth, was no more like one of the same Age under the Emperors, in humour and inclinations, than either of 'em was like his Grandfather of Fourscore. As great, or greater is the Ambiguity of the word Condition, whereby he has not signified whether he means Condition, as to Estate, Quality, Understanding, or Circumstances, as to the Action of the Play, at the juncture when the person does or says any thing. Yet these have all an equal share in the propriety both of Words and Actions, and aught to be considered, otherwise the Manners can never be preserved in their Propriety and Integrity. But by supplying the Defects of this Account, we shall remedy the danger of mistakes from the equivocal Expressions contained in it.  
Aristotle requires four conditions to the perfection of Poetic Manners. 
Aristotle's description.   
1st, That they be good.  
By the Goodness of Manners the Philosopher does not here understand any Moral Goodness; for he declares in this very Article, that he means only 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  that they should be expressive of the Character, and carry both in words and actions, the distinguishing marks of the Humour and Inclinations of the person, whether they be morally Good or Bad. So that if the Humour or natural Inclinations of the persons be sufficiently marked in the words and actions, the Manners are good, according to Aristotle, let 'em be never so vicious. Horace understands Manners the same way, when he tells us, that sometimes Plays of little Elegance, without Ornament, or Art, yet wherein the Manners were well expressed, took better than others, wherein they were neglected for Tinsel and Bombast.  
Interdum speciosa locis, 
Hor. Art. Poet.  morataque recte  
Fabula, nullius Veneris sine pondere & Arte  
Valdius oblectat Populum, meliusque moratur,  
Quam versus inopes rerum, Nugaeque canorae.  
2dly, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  That they be proper.  
Wherein this propriety consists Aristotle has not told us, except in one Negative Instance, 
Propriety of Manners required  that Courage is a Quality improper, or unbecoming a Woman. M Collier's account of Poetical Manner's above-cited, relates to this particular Condition only, yet is both defective and equivocal in that. Horace has been very full upon this, and taketh care to describe at large the different humours of man in the several Stages of his Life. The same he does to the several orders and degrees of men, according to their respective Capacities, either Natural or Political, and gives the Poets a great Charge not to confound confound. To repeat his words upon this occasion would be tedious, upon the score of length. However, I shall endeavour to give the Reader as good an Idea of this Poetical Propriety, 
Wherein it consists.  as the narrow compass I am obliged to will permit. The propriety of Manners consists in an exact conformity both of words and actions to the supposed Age both of the person and the world, to the Humour, Fortune, Quality, Understanding, and present Condition, as to the business of the Play, of the person acting or speaking. Horace as well as Aristotle, has expressed all this in one word, Convenientia, both which I have rendered Proper. This place does not afford me room for instances for each particular, and therefore I shall desire the Reader's patience, till the Subject calls for 'em in their proper places.  
3dly, That they be like.  
This Condition relates only to Characters taken from Histories, 
Similitude of Manners  or Poetical Traditions very well known. When the Poet makes use of Names, or Stories with which the Audience is well acquainted, he must be sure to make 'em conform to the received opinion. Otherwise the Audience, who will not endure to have their own Notions contradicted, will never acknowledge 'em to be the Persons they would be taken for. For this reason Horace bids his Poet, Follow common Fame, Famam Sequere. And if he meddled with known Names, to keep to the known Characters, and Accounts of 'em.  
— Honoratum si forte reponis Achillem: 
Hor. Art. Poet.   
Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer:  
jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis.  
Sat Medea ferox, invictaque flebilis Ino,  
Perfidus Ixion, Io vaga, tristis Orestes.  
The likeness here designed, is not a Natural, but a Historical likeness. However monstrous a Character were, if it was formed upon, and adjusted to common Fame, the Poet was justified.  
4thly, 
Equality of Manners what.  That they should be equal.  
Here likewise Aristotle puts in his Caveat, lest any one by Equality of Manners should understand such a steadiness of Temper and Resolution, as would exclude from the Stage the uncertainty of Fickle Humours, which he very well knew to be the case of a very great part of mankind. All that he required was, that they should be all of a piece, that there might be no dismembering of Characters, no repugnancy to themselves in any part of 'em. Horace, his best Interpreter, says, Let the character be maintained, and let the person appear the same at his exit, that he did at his entrance, and be consistent with himself.  
— Servetur ad imum  
Qualis ab incepto processerit, 
Art. Poet.  & sibi cons●et.  
The Philosopher did by no means intent to cut off so considerable a Branch from the revenue of Comedy as Levity; than which nothing deserves her Correction more, nothing fits her purpose better. But he cautions the Poets, whenever they make use of any of these Unequal, or Uncertain Tempers, to represent 'em 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  equally, or alike unequal thro' the whole Piece; and not to make 'em Fickle and Inconstant in one Act, and Resolved and Steady in another.  
Upon these Rules we may proceed to try the Characters, and Expressions of our Poets, either in conjunction with the Ancients, 
Faults of Characters what.  or separately by themselves.  
The Characters and Expressions have such a natural dependence upon one another, that they can't be examined apart, each being justifiable or condemnable upon the Evidence of the other only. The Character may offend two ways; first, by being unnatural, and consequently Monstrous; 2dly, by being Inconsistent with itself, and not all of a Piece. These Faults, when committed, are likewise two ways discoverable, by the Actions, and by the Expressions, when any thing is done, or said unnatural, or improper, a Fault is committed against Character, which is thereby broken, and becomes double.  
The Faults of Expression are as various as the circumstances against which it may offend, 
Faults of Expression manifold.  which are already summed up under the head of Propriety, which may again be every one subdivided into so many Branches, that it would be endless to particularise the several ways of trespassing in this kind. I shall therefore content myself to take notice of 'em severally, as occasion shall present itself, and wave▪ any further notice of those which shall not be found to my present purpose.  
Mr Collier might unquestionably have found our Poets remiss enough in the observation of these Rules, and consequently guilty of faults deserving his or any one's correction. But he chose rather to brand 'em with crimes of a blacker dye, though with less Justice and Truth, and like an Irish. Evidence, by his forwardness to charge, and the monstrousness of his allegations, destroys the credit of his depositions.  
His charge against our Stage for the mismanagement of their Characters consists of three general heads. 
Some heads of Mr Collier's Charge.   

1. Misrepresentation of Women.  
2. Abuse of the Clergy.  
3. Rude treatment of the Nobility.   
To all these I shall say something general, with regard to the Argument, without entering into a discussion of the Merits of those particular Instances which he brings to back his Assertions. Not but I think many of 'em easily to be Apologized for, or rather to be justified; but because it would spin out this discourse to an unreasonable length, and likewise because there are those whose Abilities in this dispute are as much greater than mine, as their Interest in it, to whom I leave it.  
The Poets (says Mr Collier) make Women speak smuttily. 
P. 8, 9, 12.  They bring 'em under such misbehaviour, as is violence to their Native Modesty, and a misrepresention of their Sex. For Modesty, as Mr Rapine observes, is the Character of Women. They represent their single Ladies, and persons of Condition, under these disorders of Liberty. This makes the Irregularity still more monstrous, and a greater Contradiction to Nature and Probability.  
Here again, 
This point mistaken.  according to his usual method, Mr Collier mistakes his point, and runs away with a wrong scent; however he opens, and cries it lustily away, that the Music may atone for the mistake, and draw all those that are not staunch in Partners to his Error. Mr Rapine observes that the Character of Women is Modesty, and therefore Mr Collier thinks, that no Woman must be shown without it. Aristotle has given Courage or Valour as the Characteristic or Mark of distinction proper to the other Sex, which was a notion so Ancient, and so universally received, that most Nations have given it a denomination from the Sex, as if peculiar to it. The Greeks called it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, we Manhood. Yet 'tis no Solecism in Poetical Manners to represent Men sometimes upon the Stage as Cowards; nor did any man ever think the whole Sex affronted by it; how near soever it might touch some Individuals.  
If the Poets set up these Women of Liberty for the Representatives of their whole Sex, 
Faults of particular no reflection upon the Sex in General.  or pretended to make them the Standards to measure all the rest by, the Sex would have just reason to complain of so abusive a Misrepresentation. But 'tis just the contrary, the Sex has no Interest in the Virtues or Vices of any Individual, either on the Stage, or off of it; they reflect no honour or disgrace on the Collective Body, any more than the Neatness and good Breeding of the Court affect the Nastiness and ill Manners of Billingsgate, or are affected by 'em.  
In Plays the Characters are neither Universal nor General. 
Universals and Individuals improper Characters.  Marks so comprehensive are the Impresses and Signatures of Nature, which are not to be corrected, or improved by us, and therefore not to be meddled with. Besides, they give us no Idea of the person characterised, but what is common to the rest of the species, and do not sufficiently distinguish him. Neither are they so Singular, as to extend no farther than single Individuals. Characters of so narrow a Compass would be of very little use, or diversion. Because they would not appear natural, the Originals being probably unknown to the greatest part, if not the whole Audience; nor could any of the Audience sinned any thing to correct in themselves by seeing the Infirmity peculiar to a particular man exposed. This was indeed the method of the Old Greek Comedy; but then they picked out public persons, whom they dressed in Fools Coats and exposed upon the Stage, not in their own own Shapes, but those of the Poet's Fancy; an Insolence, that never would▪ have been endured in any, but a Popular Government, where the best of Men are sometimes sacrificed to the Humours and Caprices of a giddy multitude. Yet even by them it was at last suppressed.  
The Characters therefore must neither be too general, 
What Characters proper  nor too singular, one loses the distinction, the other makes it monstrous, we are too familiar with that to take notice of it, and too unacquainted with this to acknowledge it to be real. But betwixt these there is an almost▪ infinite variety; some natural and approaching to Generals, as the several Ages of the World, and of Life, Sexes and Tempers; some Artificial, and more particular, as the vast Varieties and Shapes of Villainy, Knavery, Folly, Affectation and Humour, etc. All these are within the Poet's Royalty▪ and he may summon 'em to attend him, whenever he has occasion for their service. Yet though these make up perhaps the greatest part of Mankind, he is not fond to imagine, that he has any Authority over the whole, or to expect homage from any of 'em, as the Public Representatives of their Sex.  
Yet even granting to the Poets such an unlimited Authority (which I shall not do) Mr Collier's Argument falls to the Ground nevertheless. 
Two sorts of Resemblances in Poetry.  For as in Painting, so in Poetry, 'tis a Maxim as true as common, that there are two sorts of Resemblances, one handsome, t'other homely. Now Comedy, whose Duty 'tis not to flatter, like Droll Painting. gives the Features true, though the Air be ridiculous. The Sex has its Characteristic Blemishes as well as Ornaments; and those are to be copied, when a Defective Character is intended, as the others are for a perfect one. And yet, for the reasons already given, when the Virtues or Vices of any particular Women are represented, the Sex in general have no share either in the Complimeut or the Affront. Because any particular Instances to the contrary notwithstanding, the Sex may be in the main either good or bad. So that Mr Collier's charge of misrepresenting the Sex in general is groundless.  
But he pursues his Argument to particulars, and takes notice, that even Quality itself is not excepted from these Mismanagements.  
If Dignities conferred true Merit, 
Quality no just reason for exemption.  and Titles took away all Blemishes, the Poets were certainly very much in the wrong to represent any Person of Quality with failings about her. But if Birth or Preferment be no sufficient Guard to a weakly Virtue or Understanding. If Title be no security against the usual Humane Infirmities; I see no reason, why they mayn't as well appear together upon the lesser Stage of the Theatre, as upon the grand one of the World. But this will be more properly considered in another place.  
From these more general exceptions, 
Mr Collier's collect in from the Ancients very loosely made.  he descends to particular Expressions. Which, that he may render the more inexcusable, he flies out into extravagant Commendations of the Ancients upon the score of their Modesty, and the Cleanness of their Expressions. In this employment he bestirs himself notably, and pretends not to leave one exceptionable Passage unremarked. But either he has had a Prodigious Crop, or is a very ill Husband; for he leaves very large glean behind him. We shall make bold to walk over the same ground, and pick up some of his leave, (for all would be too bulky to find room in this place) and restore 'em to their Owners, whether left by him out of negligence or design.  
One thing I must desire the Reader to take notice of, which is, that I don't charge these passages as faults, or immoralities upon the Ancients, but only instance in 'em, to show the partiality of Mr Collier, who violently wrists the Words and Sense of the Moderns, only to make that monstrous and unsufferable in them, which he either excuses or defends in the others. Nor do I here pretend to present the Reader with a complete Collection of the kind. I assure him, that I shall leave untouched some hundreds of those instances which I have actually observed amongst the Greek and Latin Dramatists, and only give him so many, as are indispensably necessary to show how unjustly Mr Collier has drawn his parallel. For since both Ancients and Moderns, as Poets are submitted to, and aught to be governed by the same Laws, 'tis but reason, that one as well as tother, should be allowed the benefit of 'em.  
Shakespear's Ophelia comes first under his Lash, 
Objection to Ophelia.  for not keeping her mouth clean under her distraction. He is so very nice, that her breath, which for so many years has stood the test of the most critical Noses, smells rank to him. It may therefore be worth while to inquire, whether the fault lies in her Mouth, or his Nose.  
Ophelia was a modest young Virgin, 
Character of Ophelia.  beloved by Humlet, and in Love with him. Her Passion was approved, and directed by her Father, and her Pretensions to a match with Hamlet, the heir apparent to the Crown of Denmark, encouraged, and supported by the Countenance and Assistance of the King and Queen. A warrantable Love, so naturally planted in so tender a Breast, so carefully nursed, so artfully manured, and so strongly forced up, must needs take very deep Root, and bear a very great Head. Love, even in the most difficult Circumstances, is the Passion naturally most predominant in young Breasts but when it is encouraged and cherished by those of whom they stand in awe, it grows Masterly and Tyrannical, and will admit of no Check. This was poor Ophelia's case. Hamlet had sworn, her Father had approved, the King and Queen consented to, nay, desired the Consummation of her Wishes. Her hopes were full blown, when they were miserably blasted. Hamlet by mistake kills her Father, and runs mad; or, which is all one to her, counterfeits madness so well, that she is cheated into a belief of the reality of it. Here Piety and Love concur to make her Affliction piercing, and to impress her Sorrow more deep and lasting. To tear up two such passions violently by the roots, must needs make horrible Convulsions in a Mind so tender, and a Sex so weak. These Calamities distract her, and she talks incoherently; at which Mr Collier is amazed, he is downright stupefied, and thinks the Woman's mad to run out of her wits. But though she talks a little lightheaded▪ and seems to want sleep, I don't find she needed any Cashew in her Mouth to correct her Breath. That's a discovery of Mr Collier's, (like some other of his) who perhaps is of Opinion, that the Breath and the Understanding have the same Lodging, and must needs be vitiated together. However, Shakespeare has drowned her at last, and Mr Collier is angry that he did it no sooner. He is for having Execution done upon her seriously, and in sober sadness, without the excuse of madness for Self-murder. To kill her is not sufficient with him, unless she be damned into the bargain. 
Objection groundless & friv. ●o●. ●.  Allowing the Cause of her madness to be Party per Pale, the death of her Father, and the loss of her Love, which is the utmost we can give to the latter, yet her passion is as innocent, and inoffensive in her distraction as before, though not so reasonable and well governed. Mr Collier has not told us, what he grounds his hard censure upon, but we may guests, that if he be really so angry as he pretends, 'tis at the mad Song, which Ophelia sings to the Queen, which I shall venture to transcribe without fear of offending the modesty of the most chaste Ear.  
To morrow is St Valentine's day, 
Mad Song.  all in the morn betimes,  
And I a Maid at your Window to be your Valentine.  
Then up he, he arose, and donned his  
clothes, and dupt the Chamber door,  
Let in a Maid that out a Maid  
Never departed more.  
By Jesus, and by St Charity:  
Alack, and fie for shame!  
Young men will do't, if they come to't,  
By Cock they are to blame.  
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,  
You promised me to wed:  
So had I done, by yonder Sun,  
And thou hadst not come to bed.  
'Tis strange this stuff should wamble so in Mr Collier's Stomach, 
●oolish but ●●ffensive.  and put him into such an Uproar. 'Tis silly indeed, but very harmless and inoffensive; and 'tis no great Miracle, that a Woman out of her Wits should talk Nonsense, who at the soundest of her Intellects had no extraordinary Talon at Speech-making. Sure Mr Collier's concoctive Faculty's extremely depraved, that mere Water-Pap turns to such virulent Corruption with him.  
But Children and Mad Folks tell truth, 
Ancients more faulty than this.  they say, and he seems to discover thro' her Frenzy what she would be at. She was troubled for the loss of a Sweetheart, and the breaking off her Match, Poor Soul. Not unlikely. Yet this was no Novelty in the days of our Forefathers; if he pleases to consult the Records, he will find even in the days of Sophocles, Maids had an itching the same way, and longed to know, what was what, before they died.  
Antigone, 
Instance in the Antigone of Sophocles.  whom he has produced as an instance of the Temperance, and Decency of the Ancients in this respect, may upon the Parallel serve us as an example of the contrary. The distinguishing Parts of this Lady's Character, are Piety and Resolution, and she makes both sufficiently appear, she buries her Brother, though she knew she must die for it. And when she receives her Sentence from Creon, which was immediately to be put in execution, she makes light of Death, and insults the Tyrant. But as she is led to Execution, she is unexpectedly concerned about the Toy her Maidenhead; 'tis her great Affliction, that she must go out of the world with that great Burden about her. Upon this occasion she is very clamorous, and that it may be taken notice of as her main grievance, she repeats it divers times over, and chews the Cud upon it liberally.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
Poor Girl, she does not relish her Sentence half so well as an Epithalamium. She thinks a soft Bed, and a warm Bed-fellow more comfortable by abundance, than a cold Grave. And who can blame her? But Matrimony runs strangely in her head. For a little after she's at it again, complaining of her want of a Husband, and is very sorry that she must cross the Styx, and visit her Parents with her Maidenhead about her.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
And immediately after she's at it again.  — 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
Unmarried is still the burden of the Song. Nay, she is so full of it, that she can't forbear talking of a second Husband, in case she were a Widow.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
This thought of a second Husband is such a Refreshment to her, that she can't forbear dilating upon it. One would think by the odd Frolicksomeness of her complaints, and the whimsical Comforts she finds out, that she was only going to dance barefoot at a Sister's Wedding. But within a few lines, she relapses again into her agonies of despair, and is more afraid of leading Apes in Hell, than e'er a hopeless Antiquated Damsel within our Bills of Mortality. She is not so much concerned at dying, but to go out of the world, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  and not to have one Honey Moon, not so much as a merey Bout before she went, was a hardship she could not bear with any temper.  
We may find by this Lady's complaint, that she was very desirous to dispose of her Maidenhead; but for any thing that appears from her complaint or behaviour, she was very indifferent to whom. 'Twas a Burden she longed to be rid of, and seemed not to care who eased her; for she does not mention her Contract with Haemon, which she decently might, but laments her want of a Husband in general terms, without giving the least hint of an Honourable Love for any particular person.  
These are extraordinary Speculations for a dying Person. However, Mr Collier admires the Poets conduct in this case, and were he Ordinary no doubt but we should have these Flowers transplanted in great plenty to the last Speeches of his dying Females. He thinks 'tis out of pure regard to Modesty and Decency, that Antigone takes no notice of Haemon in her complaints. I shall not dispute, whether 'twere the fashion in the days of Sophocles or not; but I am sure 'tis accounted but an ill Symptom of Modesty in our Age, when a young Lady shows an impatience to be married, before she has made a Settlement of her Affection upon any Individual Man.  
However, 
Instance in Electra of the same Author.  Antigones Carriage is not singular; Electra, another Lady of much the same Quality and Character, (though not under those immediate apprehensions of Death) declares herself of the same Opinion. She's in great distress too for want of a Husband, and complains very heavily upon that score.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Nor is Euripides a whit more tender in this point. The Royal Polyxena, just before she was to be led away as a Victim to the Manes of Achilles, harps upon the same string. It lies very heavy upon her Spirits, that she must go out of the World in ignorance.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This Princess' complaint is yet more unreasonable than either of the former, and more unbecoming the Modesty of her Sex, and the greatness of her Birth and Courage, as 'tis both before and afterwards show. Shown as a Captive, a part of the Plunder of the sacked City, one that besides her own unhappy Destiny, which hung immediately over her head, had the Ruin and Miseries of her Country and Family fresh in view, to put all wanton thoughts out of her head. Besides, she could not expect to ascend the insolent Conqueror's Bed any otherwise than as his Vassal, the Slave of his Lust and Pleasure, which, as it was below her to comply with, but upon Force, so it must be a Slavish Baseness, as well as Wantonness and Incontinence, to desire it under her Circumstances.  
It were easy to bring many Instances more of this kind, but I think. it would be tedious and unnecessary to multiply instances in a plain case. I think it likewise a labour altogether as superfluous to spend more words to show the vast disproportion between the innocent Extravagance of Ophelia's Frenzy, and the sober Rants of Antigone, Electra, and Polyxena. To suppose the Reader could overlook that, were to affront his Understanding.  
But before I part with Antigone, I shall beg leave to make one observation more. 
P. 35.  Mr Collier takes notice, that Cassandra, in reporting the misfortunes of the Greeks, stops at the Adulteries of Clytaemnestra and Aegiale. And gives this handsome reason for making a halt.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Foul things are best unsaid.  
From whence he observes, that Some things are dangerous in report, as well as practice, and many times a Disease in the Description. This Euripides was aware of, and managed accordingly, and was remarkably regular both in Style and Manners.  
This was indeed an extraordinary piece of niceness in Euripides, more I think by a great deal, than he was obliged to, and I am sure more than he has shown upon other occasions. Cassandra might have foretold the Discovery of the Adulteries of Clytaemnestra and Aegiale, without any Indecencies of Language, or shocking the most tender Ear, had the Poet so pleased.  
Sophoclcs, 
Antigone in Sophocles not so nice.  who was as good a Judge and as careful an observer of decency as Euripides, gives his Antigone more liberty; though had he thought it indecent, he might with better reason have excused her. 1st, Because what Antigone says is no way necessary, being neither provoked by any thing that preceded, nor of use to the promoting of the Action, or the Information of the Audience. 2dly, Because she thereby revives the Infamy of her Parents, and refreshes the scandalous impressions, which her own Incestuous Birth must needs have made upon the Audience to her disadvantage.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
If Antigone might be thus free with her own Family without breach of Modesty, I can't see why Cassandra should be so tender of an Enemy, whom she was just going to supplant in her Bed; and in the divulging of whose Faults, as well as Misfortunes, she might be allowed to take some Pleasure, 
Casandra not so nice as Mr Collier pretends.  as a sort of anticipation of the satisfaction, which she took in the Revenge of the Destruction of her Family, which she foresaw was to come. But Casandra loved doing better than talking. For in the Speech foregoing to this, which Mr Collier commends so much for the Modesty of it, Casandra runs almost mad for Joy, that Agamemnon would take her to his Bed, and calls in an Enthusiastic manner upon Hymen, upon Hecate, and Apollo to grace the Ceremony. She desires her Mother, and the miserable Phrygians about her to adorn themselves, be merry, and dance, and sing, as if her Father were in the height of his prosperity. The Chorus hereupon desires Hecuba to curb her, and keep her from running voluntarily to the Grecian Camp. Her Mother accordingly reprimands her, and tells her she thought their Calamities might have made her more modest, that Tears better became their Fortune, than Nuptial Songs or Torches.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This Reproof has a strange Operation upon Casandra. 
Extravagance of Casandra.  For instead of reclaiming and reducing her to reason, it makes her ten times madder. She falls to cross purposes with her Mother, and as if she had been Pandress in the case, calls upon her to crown her victorious head, and wish her Joy of her Royal Match. She bids her lead her, and if she does not make haste enough, she would have her push violently on.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Is this the Modest, the bashful Casandra, so demure, that she can't name adultery, though in an Enemy, and yet so forward to act it, that no restraints of Shame or Misery can keep her within bounds.  
It may perhaps be objected in Defence of Casandra, that her Joy and Transport springs not from any Pleasure or Satisfaction, that she should take in this Match, but from the Prospect she had of revenging the Quarrel of her Family, and the Ruin and Destruction which she foresaw should thence come upon the House of Atreus her mortal Enemies.  
Admit this to be true. 
Indecency against Character.  Yet Casandra bushes her Resentments too far, when she sacrifices her Virtue and Modesty to her Revenge. Had Casandra been represented as a Woman of a furious vindicative Spirit, she might in a sudden fit of Rage have rashly sacrificed all Considerations to the Violence of her present Fury. But then if the Character be virtuous in the main, such Outrages are not offered to Modesty, till after prodigious struggles, and racking Convulsions of Mind. Passion must not triumph over Reason and Honour, but with vast labour and difficulty, and in those Breasts only, where it is the ruling, uncontrollable Power, and where the prospect of its success is great, and immediate, and is in Women provoked as well by Appetite as Inclination.  
But this is none of Casandra's case. She shared indeed amongst the rest the common Fate, and became a Slave, and a Prey to the victor's Lust and Avarice. This might naturally make her wish the utter confusion of the Destroyer's of her Country and Family; but not at the expense of her Fame and Virtue. 'Twas all she had left to comfort her; and as Andromache in the same Play could inform her, of infinitely more worth, than the wretched remainder of a servile Life. This therefore should not have been parted with at any rate, much less upon a slender consideration. Had she submitted to necessity only, and complied as a Slave with reluctance to the desires of Agamemnon, as Andromache does to Pyrrhus, she had saved hes Modesty, and secured her Revenge every whit as well. The Disasters of Agamemnon and his House, interpreted as a Punishment of here's, and her Family's wrongs, though they were only Prophetically fore-known by her, had given a sullen s●rt of Comfort, and afforded a reason for her resignation of herself to the Conqueror's Pleasure. But if the Poet designed her for so implacable a Character, as to take such great satisfaction in, and purchase at so dear a rate a Prospect only of Revenge at such a distance, by which she herself must be crushed, and all her Friends either dead, or so dispersed as to have no interest in the accomplishment of it: he ought to have prepared the Audience for so unaccountable an extravagance, by some notice of the Violence of her Temper, either by something from her own mouth or Conduct previous to this, or from the mouth of some Friend of here's, that might have abated the surprise of such a resolution. Especially since he was resolved she should appear no more by her future modest behaviour to qualify the Scandal of this Misdemeanour.  
This Lady being set up by Mr Collier as the Standard of Modesty, I have examined her Conduct the more at large; and am very willing to leave it to the decision of the Reader, whether Casandra or Ophelia would best become the Cloister, or most needs the Discipline of the Nunnery in moorfield's.  
We have seen how this Lady can behave herself upon occasion. 
Misbehaviour of Hecuba.  Let us examine her Mother, that corrected her wantonness so seasonably upon this occasion. She as older should have more wit, and yet she forgets herself extremely too sometimes. In the Play that bears her name, Hecuba comes to Agamemnon, complains of the murder of her Son Polydorus by Polymestor, and to move him to Compassion begins a wanton Discourse of the Pleasures of Love to him, though she thinks at the same time, that 'tis impertinent, yet she's resolved it shall out.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
As an old Woman she had the privilege of tattling. But as a Prudent Woman, she ought to have handled her Daughter's disgrace a little more tenderly. The good old Lady ne'er minces the matter, but outs with all roundly, and is concerned, that any thing should abate of the satisfaction Casandra might have in so good a Bedfellow.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This is plain dealing, but something below the Dignity of the Queen of Asia, at the lowest ebb of her Fortune. What follows is fit only for the Mouth of a Drunken Midwife at a Christening in Wapping.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
After these remarkable Instances of the regularity of Euripides, 
Love and Tenderness used by the Moderns. Lust and Violence by the Ancients.  both in Style and Manners, I suppose our Poets may venture to show their Faces in his Company, without danger of putting him to the blush with their want of Modesty. But the Ancients, it seems, had very little Love or Courtship in their Plays. Perhaps so. But they had Lust and Violence, which Mr Collier thinks more eligible. The fault of the Modern Lovers, it seems, is too much tenderness and fooling away their time in idle Talk. The vigorous Ancients went more roundly to work, theirs were like Spanish Intrigues, two words struck the bargain betwixt 'em.  
'Twere easy to multiply instances of this nature from Euripides, 
Numerous instances of this kind to be found in Euripides.  were that my Design. But I love not to rake into the Ashes of the Dead for that which isn't worth finding. Yet that the Reader, if he has the curiosity, may have the satisfaction, I shall refer him to the Places where they are to be found; where he that has a mind to a more ample Collection, may be abundantly furnished.  
Hermione rails at Andromache in terms very misbecoming her Sex, 
Some referred to.  Quality, and Years. Andromache reproves her for it in terms yet less beseeming a sober Matron, and casts a scandalous aspersion upon her whole Sex. Creusa makes a foul relation of her rape by Apollo, and descends nauseously to particulars with her Servant. jon her Son civilly questions his Mother, whether she had not played the Whore with some base Groom, and to cover her disgrace laid her Bastard (himself) falsely to Apollo's charge. Electra's manners are much of the same size and complexion; when she is urging her Brother Orestes to the murder of Aegisthus; she bids him ring in his Ears the whoring of her Mother, and tell him, that since he had a Whore of her he must expect sharers in her, and be the Cuckold of other Men, as her Father had been his. That he was notorious for her Cully all the Town over. This sort of stuff she lets run over without regard to Decency, and rambles as wantonly thro' the Infamy of her Family, as is if 'twere only Scandal picked up at a gossiping, in which they had no particular Concern.  
Whoever consults these and divers Passages, as well in Sophocles as Euripides, will find the most exceptionable Passages in our Poets, whether Comic or Tragic very excusable, upon a fair Construction, let it be never so severe within the Bounds of Justice.  
Seneca has received Absolution, 
Seneca examined upon this Article.  and is pronounced clear of the sin of Uncleanness. Yet with Mr Collier's leave, since he is introduced to vilify and depreciate the Moderns, he is bound to confront 'em, and answer for his own Conduct, before he takes upon him magisterially to censure and correct others. But since 'tis not so much his act as Mr Collier's, who has ventured to be his Godfather, and answer for him, a slight Inquisition shall excuse him. We shall not require so severe a Proof of his Chastity as the Ordeal Trial. It shall be sufficient for him to enter his Protestation against what has been done in his Name.  
In his Hippolytus, 
Miscarriage of Phaedra.  Phaedra is possessed with a scandalous, incestuous Passion, and she indulges it at as lose, a scandalous rate. She enters first with her Resolution, as strong as her Desires. She is not concerned at the Nature or Consequences of so vile a Passion, but at the difficulty of satisfying it. She appears at first sight full grown and confirmed in Wickedness, and instead of condemning and endeavouring to stifle so lewd, a licentious Flame, she animates herself to the accomplishment of her design by a recrimination upon her Husband, and rips up, amongst others, even those of his Faults, to which herself had been accessary, and the sole occasion of his Gild. But what is more strange and unnatural, she draws matter of Comfort and Encouragement from the monstrous Lewdness of her Mother, and the Infamy of her House. But what's most wonderful of all, she's come to this height of Impudence, before she well knows what ails her; she is but just arrived at the Discovery of her Malady. She can neither Eat, Sleep, Work, nor Pray; but she burns, and boils inwardly like Aetna itself, and is all agog on the sudden for hunting and handling the Boarspear: She knows not why, till at length she finds, that she's her Mother's own Daughter, and so the Mystery comes out.  
Quo tendis anime? quid furens saltus amas?  
Fatale miserae matris agnosco malum,  
Peccare noster novit in Sylvis amor.  
Genetrix, tui me miseret, infando malo  
Correpta pecoris efferi saevum ducem  
Audax amasti. Torvus impatiens guge  
Adulter ille, ductor indomiti gregis.  
Sed amabat aliquid: Quis meas miserae Deus,  
Aut quis juvare Daedalus flammas queat?  
Non si ille remee● arte mopsopia potens,  
Qui nostra caeca monstra concluset domo,  
Promittat ullam casibus nostris opem.  
— Nulla Minois levi  
Defuncta amore est: jungitur semper nefas.  
'Twas the fate of her Family, it seems, and she was by no means for contending with her destiny, and therefore surrenders upon the first Summons of her passion. Her Mother, she thinks, was much obliged to Daedalus, whose ingenuity brought her and her horned Lover together. But alas! Poor Soul, She's hard put to't. Her Mother's Bull was a gentle tenderhearted Gallant, to her Savage obdurate Son-in-law; and she, good woman, had no such necessary helps for her Consolation. What must she do? He Nurse advises her to strangle this Incestuous Brat, her Passion, in the Birth. But she bravely resolves to push on, whatever comes on't.  Quemcunque dederit exitum casus, feram. 
Is this the modest Phaedra, whose Language is under such discipline? Can she be so free with the Infamy of her House, make such fulsome descriptions, and envy her Mother the caresses of a Bull? But the Nurse mends the matter, and reproves her severely. Here therefore we may expect a sample of strict and exemplary modesty, and chaste expression.  
Sed ut secundus Numinum abscondat favour  
Coitus nefandos— and immediately after  
— Metue concubitus novos.  
Miscere thalamos Patris, & Nati apparas,  
Vteroque prolem capere confusam impio.  
Is this the disciplined Language Mr Collier boasts of? Such we have indeed sometimes under the discipline of Bridewell and Bedlam, but seldom elsewhere. The most accomplished Disciple that ever came out of the late famous Academy of the virtuous Mrs Meggs of notable Memory, could not have been more free in her Language, as well as Thoughts. The Ancients, good Men, did not puzzle their Heads about double entendres to screen a foul thought, or labour for Allegories and Allusions, but honestly called a Spade, a Spade, whenever they had occasion. I believe these Ladies would be better company for Joan of Naples, than Mr Dryden's Leonora, if fulsome Descriptions be so toothsome to her.  
But Mr Collier is mightily pleased, 
Modesty of Lycus consider.  that there is no courting, except in the Hercules Furens, where the Tyrant Lycus addresses Megara very briefly, and in modest remote Language. Here he has pointed us a Specimen of what he calls modest and remote. The Tyrant had courted Megara, the Wife of Hercules, to no purpose, she obstinately repulsed him; and therefore he turns him about, and modestly (as Mr Collier thinks) thus addresses himself to Amphitruo. You have Pimped for Jupiter to your Wife, and shall do as much for me to your Daughter-in-Law, having so expert a Master it can be no novelty either to her, or her Husband, to be civil to their Betters. But if she obstinately refuses to comply, I'll force her, and beget a generous Race.  
Jovi dedisti conjugem, Regi dabis.  
Et te magistro non novum hoc discet Nurus,  
Etiam viro probante, meliorem sequi,  
Sin copulari pertinax taedis negat,  
Vel ex coacta nobilem partum feram.  
This, according to Mr Collier, is Distance and Modesty, Old Style. If he will make these allowances to our Poets, I'll engage to prove there never was an immodest thing said upon the English Stage; a task I should be loath to undertake upon any other terms, as much as I am persuaded of their comparative Innocence.  
But 'tis not in his Judgement only, 
References to other instances.  that Mr Collier can be partial; his Memory can be favourable too upon occasion. For though he does non omnibus dormire, yet he can wink at the Faults of his old Friends, while he sees every slip of the Moderns double. He says, that Seneca has no courting but this of Lycus; but I suppose, he wilfully forgets the shameful solicitations which Phaedra uses to corrupt her Son-in-Law Hippolytus, against the Charter of her Sex, and the rules of Decency. They, whose curiosity invites 'em to a further enquiry, may find matter in abundance for their speculations, in the Agamemnon, particularly in the Scenes between Clytaemnestra and her Nurse, Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra, Electra and Clytaemnestra; and in divers others places of the rest of the Plays of that Collection.  
If we should examine the Ancient Comedy 
These Faults less pardonable in Tragedy, than Comedy.  with the severity that Mr Collier uses to the Moderns, we should let in such a torrent of Citations, as would almost over-whelm us. But for the reasons already given, there are grains of allowance to be made to Comedy, to which Tragedy can lay no claim. Tragedy deals with persons of the highest Condition, by and before whom the strictest severity of Manners and Decorum is to be observed. The business is of great importance, and requires serious consideration, and gives no opportunity for wantonness, or light indecencies. Whenever therefore the Poet suffers snch persons to talk such Fooleries themselves, or others to talk 'em to 'em, he stoops 'em below their Characters and Business. But in Comedy the case is quite different, both the persons and business are little, and exact neither State nor Ceremony. Most of the persons are such, as either don't ●now, or don't regard Forms and Punctilios of good Breeding. This we have a plain Proof of in all the Comedies of Antiquity, whether of the old or new Cut. 
Slave's th● top Characters of the Roman Comedy.  The Slaves ate so familiar with their Masters, that by the freedoms they take, 'tis hard to distinguish one from tother, except that the Slave bears the Character of Advantage, and appears generally to have more wit than his Master, whom he is to assist if he be young, and cheat if he be old. Accordingly we find 'em almost always bantering, quibbling, drolling, and jesting upon their Masters, when they are together. Their employment is usually to purchase their young Master a Mistress, with the Hunks their Old Master's money. By this means the Slaves become the Principal Character in the Ancient Comedy, and are the main Spring, by which the whole Machine of the Fable is set a going. The rest, which are usually in the new Comedy, a covetous old Fellow, an extravagant young one, a Bawd, a Whore, a stolen Virgin, are but the under Wheels, whose motions are regulated altogether by those of the Slave, who is the Man of Intrigue, and carries all the Brains the Poet can spare about him. The old Man is froward, suspicious, severe, and close-fisted; and sometimes he is represented easy and indulgent, but has a scolding, turbulent, griping Wife, a churlish, parsimonious Brother, or Relation, or conceited Wise Friend, that takes upon himself to correct and govern him. The young Fellow is in Love, extravagant, and in want of Money. The Bawd, whether Male, or Female, is faithless, imposing, and acted only by present profit. The Whore, if an experienced one, is altogether Mercenary, if raw in her Trade, she is dotingly fond and loving, but under the care of the Bawd. The stolen Virgin is always next to a Mute.  
Their Plots are confined to as narrow a compass, 
Very little variety In th●●●r Plots.  as their Characters. The young Man is in Love with a Slave, and wants money to purchase her of the Bawd, who is about to sell, or prostitute her to another. The young Man in this exigent has recourse to a crafty Servant, who helps by some Stratagem to squeeze the money out of the old Sponge his Father, or to cheat some other Body. A discovery at length is made to his Father, who is vehemently provoked at his Son's folly and extravagance, and threatens to difinherit him. Young Master and Man are at their wit's end, to reconcile themselves to the old Man, and no fetch, no contrivance left to bring themselves off, when in comes some Merchant or Stranger, who discovers that this Maiden is a Citizen, and well born; which pacifies the Old Fellow, the young Man thrives in his amours, a match is struck up by consent of all Parties, and all's well again.  
'Tis true, 
Greater Liberty taken by Aristophanes.  Aristophanes took a much greater compass, and brought not only Mankind, but Gods, Brute Animals, and even inanimate Bodies within the Pale of the Stage. This, as it enlarged his walk, increased his Liberty, which he sometimes abuses at a scandalous unjustifyable rate. Mr Collier, to obviate all objections that might be raised from the practice of Aristophanes, whose Comedies are the only pieces of that kind remaining of the Greek Stage, by way of prevention excepts against his Credit, and endeavours to invalidate his Evidence by accusing him of Atheism.  
But though I think Mr Collier's Arguments to prove him an Atheist to be of no validity, 
Aristophanes whether an Atheist or not 〈◊〉 to the purpose.  as I could easily show, were it not an impertinent digression in this place; yet I shall wave the particular refutation of 'em, because I think it not material to the point in hand, whether he were so or not. For though we should grant, that the Poet himself was an Atheist, yet Mr Collier himself will not pretend that his Audience, the people of Athens were so too. On the contrary it appears that they were as arrant Bigots, as Mr Collier himself could wish to trade with. They put Socrates to death, only because he would not be cullied out of his reason, and be the Priest's Fool, to countenance and encourage a senseless extravagant superstition. This made some Christian Fathers reckon him among the Martyrs for the Unity of the Deity.  
But Mr Collier, who has a much better hand at supposing than proving, takes a very odd method to clear the reputation of that great man from the suggestions of Aristophanes, and the censure of his Country, by whom he was condemned for Atheism.  
That Socrates was no Atheist is clear from Instances enough. To mention but one. The confidence he had in his Daemon or Genius, by which he governed his Affairs, puts it beyond dispute.  
That Socrates held, 
This Argument considered.  and believed the existence of Daemons or Genii, may be an argument, that he was no Atheist. But that he pretended to have any Familiarity, or hold any Correspondence with such a Daemon or Genius, gives me but a very indifferent notion of his Faith and Integrity. It smells rank of Imposture, and must needs make but a bad Impression upon men of Integrity, and Understanding of those Principles, which want the support of such dishonest shifts. But this was Plato's report of him, and perhaps was neither the real practice nor opinion of Socrates, whom therefore we shall dismiss, as having been brought in only to show how unluckily Mr Collier is gifted for Argument.  
But if the Athenians could proceed 
Rigour of the Athenians to Socrates a sort of Acquitment of Aristophanes.  with such Rigours against a man so much revered for his Virtue and Wisdom, and supported by the favour of their best and greatest men only, for holding Opinions contrary to their Notions of Religion, 'tis not to be imagined, that they who were so very tender in this case, so extremely sensible of any affront to the Common Faith, would with so little concern, or rather so much satisfaction, have heard it publicly insulted by Aristophanes. They showed in the case of Socrates, that their Blood could rise and ferment upon such occasions as high as any people's. How comes it then, that they who were so outrageous and impatient with Socrates, are so tame, and passive as to bear much greater Provocations of the same Nature from Aristophanes without the least sign of Resentment? Was the interest of the Poet so much superior to the Philosophers, that what was capital in one should deserve no manner of correction, or notice in t'other? No such matter, for he was called in question, and took his Trial for a thing of much less moment, viz. For assuming the Liberties of a Citizen of Athens being a Foreigner. Now there is 〈◊〉 doubt, but his Enemies who had the malice and the power to get him thus arraigned, would have strengthened their Charge, with an Article so considerable as Atheism, and Blasphemy against their Gods, before such superstitious bigoted Judges as the Athenians, had there been any ground or colour of suspicion. The Power and Malice of Cleon would have reached, him, had there been any plausible pretence, to have fixed the guilt of a Crime so unpopular upon him.  
Mr Collier pretends to maintain his assertion by divers instances of irreverent passages in relation to their Gods, 
Mr Collier's ●o proof of 〈◊〉 assertion.  to be found in the Plays of Aristophanes. I grant there are such passages, even more than Mr Collier has cited, though many of those which he has selected to prove his Allegation by, will by no means bear the weight of such a Charge. But the people of Athens, who were in these matters much more delicate, 
The Opinion of the Man not measured by the Expressions of the Poet at Athens  than Mr Collier seems to be, had the niceness to distinguish justly between the Private Sentiments of the Man, and the Public one's of the Poet. In this latter capacity almost all sorts of Characters belong ' 〈◊〉 to him, and he must of consequence be frequently necessitated to make use of Thoughts and Expressions very contrary to his own proper opinion. The Athenians therefore did not lay these Liberties of the Stage, which they knew the nature of those Characters which he represented must of course oblige him to, as blemishes either in his Faith or Morals, to his Charge. Had Mr Collier been Master of as much Understanding and Justice, as these Heathens, not only Aristophanes, but our English Poets too had met with a fairer Adversary, and found civiller and honester treatment. 'Twere easy to enlarge in the Justification of Aristophanes; but Mr Collier gives him up, and therefore we need no parallel between him, and the English Comic Poets, to prove the comparative modesty of the latter; for which reason we shall proceed directly to Plautus whom he justifies upon the comparison.  
Plautus, 
Liberties of Plautus greater than those of the English Stage. P. 15.  by reason of the narrow Circle that he moves in, affords no great variety, yet there is plenty enough in him, to make Mr Collier blush for his defence, if it were all produced at large. For what he calls very moderate, and says, that our single Plays shall far outdo all this put together, would in his Microscopical way of observing appear monstrous, and infinitely exceed the most malicious collection he can make out of the English Poets. But he presumes upon the ignorance of his Readers, and imposes arbitrarily and magisterially what sense he pleases upon every thing, and despotically coins Citations, which he forces upon 'em for genuine, upon no better warrant than his own Will and Pleasure. But to proceed to instance.  
In the Amphitruo, Mercury, 
Instances from the Amphi●●io.  after a long scene of gross Drollery upon Amphitruo, bids him be gone, and not disturb his Master's pleasure with his Wife.  
Abscede moneo, molestus ne sies, dum Amphitruo,  
Cum uxore modo ex hostibus adveniens, voluptatem capit.  
Upon this Amphitruo asks, What Wife? and is answered Alcumena. This does not satisfy his curiosity, but he must know whether he lies with her or not; and is not contented till he has doubled the Question, and must be informed, whether they lie in the same room both or not. Hereupon Mercury, to cut the debate short, gives him this plain answer.  Corpore corpus incubat. 
Upon this Amphitruo bewails his misery, and Mercury in mockery says, 
Lucri'st, quod hic miseriam deputat. Nam uxorem usurariam  
Perinde est praebere, ac si agrum sterilem fodiendum loces.   
The man's a gainer by what he calls his misery. For 'tis as profitable to have one's Wife, as one's Field tilled by another.  
At this rate Mercury drolls on; 
Remarkable Circumstances of this Passage.  wherein there is this remarkable, besides the quality of the persons, one a God, t'other a Hero, that the words last cited are supposed to be spoken aside out of the hearing of Amphitruo; and consequently are immediately addressed and peculiarly recommended to the Audience, 
The Disguise under which Mercury appears no excuse for his misbehaviour.  as containing something very edifying or very entertaining.  
I defy Mr Collier to prove any such licentious freedoms upon the English Amphitruo, as angry as he is with it. But perhaps Mr Collier thinks the disguise of Sosia, may excuse the ribaldry of Mercury. But this excuse won't serve his turn. For Mercury is under no disguise to the Audience, to whom this last Speech is particularly addressed.  
But lest he should think Mercury a Mad God, 
Jupiter not more modest.  and allow him the liberty of Ribaldry, let us hear how cleanly jupiter will express himself. It the last Scene this Sovereign of the Gods appears in state, owns his Quality and Intrigue, and bids Amphitruo receive his Wife. For, says he, Meam vi subacta'st.  
Mr Collier knows the meaning of the word Subigo in this case, and must strain as hard in this place, as he thinks Lambin has done in another, if he will defend it.  
The Asinaria, 
Instances from the Asinaria.  the next Play in order, affords besides the Scene betwixt Cleareta the Bawd, and Argyrippus, (which Mr Collier confesses to border upon rudeness, and I think downright Bawdy in several places) two more, one betwixt Argyrippus, Philenium, Leonida, and Libanus, which is very loose, and another, which is singularly instructive, between Argyrippus and Demaenetus his Father. 
Instance of singular Morality.  The old man, like a good Father, purchases a Whore for his Son, upon condition that himself may come in for snacks, and withal tells him, that it becomes a young man to be modest, and let his Betters go before him, that he had provided a Mistress for him to solace himself with all the year, if he could but be content, to let his Father be his Taster. This is wholesome Doctrine, and seasoned with such grave Morality, no doubt very edifying. This Mr Collier finds no fault with, and therefore we may very well pass it by; since, if it will bear the Test of his Hypothesis, it will unquestionably of ours. Tho, had this been of English growth, it had found no favour, but had smarted unmercifully under his discipline.  
One thing 'tis necessary to take notice of before we go any further, 
Plautus' Lovers more active than talkative.  and that is, that whether Plautus' Lovers talk Love, or not, they act it very plainly and vigorously before Folks, wherever they come together. 
Instanced from the Curtulio.  An instance of this kind we have in the Curculio at the meeting of Phaedromus, and Planesium, (who by the by is supposed to be a modest Virgin). At their purchased opportunity of coming together, they are so active and boisterous, that Palinurus the Slave stands amazed, and cries out, 
— uterque insaniunt.  
Viden' ut misere moliuntur, nequen nt complecti satis.   
These words are more expressive of Action than Passion, though indeed they imply both. Planesium, to mend the matter, expresses her discontent, that the Servant did not withdraw, but stayed to be a check upon 'em.  jam huic voluptati hoc adjunctum odium est. 
The Servant replies with indignation, and reprimands his Master for behaving himself so immodestly, — Ut immodestis hic te moderere moribus  
I mention this only to show how 
Comparative Modesty of the Virgins of the Ancient Stage hence to be observed.  much even the modest Virgins of the Ancient Stage valued an opportunity. This, according to Mr Collier's Hypothesis, would have been a Capital misdemeanour upon the English Stage, whatever it was upon the Roman. Many more instances of this kind, and more plain ones might be produced, but I have not room for 'em here. However, this may serve to show what sort of Nun's Flesh Mr Collier would be at, when he makes Vestals of such Lasses as this.  
Mr Collier is so very fond of the Sobriety of Plautus' Plays, 
Mr Collier's own exceptions taken notice of.  that he defends even then Conduct of the Panders and Slaves, and maintains, that they don't misbehave themselves before Women. He is sure at least, that there are but four instances to the contrary, 
P. 17.  as he remembers, Olympio, Palaestrio, Stratilax and Dordalus are the persons. And the Women they discourse with, are two of them Slaves, and the third a Wench.  
I'm sorry Mr Collier's memory is so bad, 
His instance in Olympio grossly mistaken or misrepresented.  when he has so much occasion for a better. He takes notice of but three Women thus freely dealt with, two whereof, as he tells us by way of mitigation of damages, were Slaves, and the third a Wench. From whence he seems to infer, that before Women of Modesty and Condition, these Slaves and Panders were more cautious and reserved in their Language. But Olympio, whom he has subpoena'd as an Evidence for himself, will tell him otherwise. The persons he plays his Gambols before, are Cleostrata and Murrhina, two principal Citizens Wives, Matrons of as great Quality and Virtue as any, that e'er trod the Roman Stage in Comedy; Alcumena excepted. These Matrons had shamm'd him with a man in woman's clothes for a Bride, and big with the expectation of the Issue of their jest, fell to catechising him about the business. The Clown, without regard to their Quality, which was the more considerable in Cleostrata, because she was his proper Mistress, and might severely chastise any rudeness, yet the Clown, I say, makes a very rank description, and what's worse, the women were pleased with it, and urge and prompt him forward.  
Ol.— illa haud verbum facit, 
Casina Act 5 Scen. 2.  & sepit veste, id qui estis,  
Ubi illum saltum video obseptum, rogo, ut altero sinat adire.  
Enim jam magis jam appropero, magis jam lubet in Casinam irruere.—  
This, instead of rebating the edge of his Mistress' Appetite, inflames her curiosity yet more; she's impatient till he proceeds.  
Cl. Perdis, quin pergis.  
Cl.— continuo stricto gladio: atat babae papae. Cl. Quid papae.  
Ol.— Gladium ne haberet metui, id quaerere occaepi  
Dum gladium ne habeat quaero, arripio capulum,  
Sed quem cogito non habuit gladium, nam id esset Frigidius.  
Here the Booby began to mince the matter; and his Mistress, that loved plain-dealing, corrects him for it, and bids him speak out, but he is ashamed, he says,  Cl. Eloquere. Ol. At pudet. 
The Slave however has some grace. His Mistress can't be satisfied so, she's for every thing in as proper terms, as if he was giving evidence in a Court of Record. But not prevailing that way, she prompts and pumps him with Interrogatories as loosely as a waggish Council at a Bawdy Trial.  Cl. Nam radix fuit? Num cucumis? 
The Woman, 'tis plain, had a true apprehension of the matter, but she did not like his clownish Bashfulness. Still the fellow boggles at naked Imagery; however he improves, and comes on apace.  
Ol. Profecto non fuit quicquam olerum  
Nisi quicquid erat, calamitas profecto attigerat nunquam:  
Ita quicquid erat, grande erat.  
Volo, ut obvortat cubitissim,  
Verbum ullum mutit,  
Surgo ut ineam.  
If we measure the Conversation of Plautus' Ladies of Quality by this Standard, the Ladies of our Stage, taking even the losest, need not be ashamed of their Breeding. Nay, they would blush for their company if they were brought together.  
But Cleostrata and Murrhina are not singular. 
In●●ance from the As●naria.  In the Asinaria, Artemona, upon the discovery of her Husband's intrigue, reflects upon his Failings towards her, and makes a very odd discovery of her own wants.  
Art.— Ego censeo  
Eum etiam hominem Senatui dare operam, aut Clientibus  
Ibi labore delassatum noctem totam stertere.  
Ille opere foris faciundo lassus noctu advenit.  
Fundum alienum arat, incultum familiarem deserit.  
He was (says she) so taken up with tilling another's ground, that he let his own lie fallow.  
This frankness of the Lady's complaint gave the Slave her Informer the boldness to put a very homely question to her.  
Possis si forte accubantem tuum virum conspecteris  
Cum corona amplexum amicam, si videas cognoscere?  
Could you know your Husband, if you should see him and his Mistress in a posture that would not show his Face.  
This passage (to use a Phrase of Mr Collier's) I have translated softly, but very fairly. Yet even thus the Image, which in the Original is expressed in the proper vulgar terms, appears too gross and plain, and is such as would not be endured upon our Stage, as lewd as Mr Collier thinks that and the Age.  
However, 
Slaves not the only Offender's of this kind in Plautus.  The Men who talk intemperately are generally Slaves, says Mr Collier; and he can't find any Gentleman guilty of an indecent expression, except Lusiteles, who is once over airy. I shall help him to another, out of a great number, that are ready upon demand, which is the more authentic, because it comes from a grave old Gentleman in no very airy mood, but while he is correcting another for his Lewdness and Debauchery. In the Miles Gloriosus, Periplectomenes asks Pyrgopolinices the Soldier, Cur es ausus subagitare alienam uxorem, 
Miles Glo●iosus.  impudens?  
The Gravity of the man here makes the grossness of the Expression the more remarkable. After these instances I hope Mr Collier may upon second thoughts have a better opinion of the Gentlemen and Ladies of our Stage, than heretofore, at least that he will do 'em more Justice in his next Parallel.  
But Mr Collier has one hold to retreat to yet, 
〈…〉 logues and ●pilogues no● always ●noff●ns●●.  from whence he must be driven before we part. Plautus' his Prologues and Epilogues are inoffensive. If this can be maintained, he has gained a great point; 
P 17.  but here, as in other places, he triumphs before Victory. The Prologue and Epilogue are properly the Speeches of the Poet, and 'tis in them, if any where, that we discover the Morals of a Comic Poet. Lambin finds a double entendre in the Prologue to the Paenulus; Mr Collier thinks there is a strain in the construction. I must own myself of Lambin's opinion; but, since Mr Collier does not here deliver himself after his usual dogmatical way, I shall not insist upon this passage, but proceed to instances, which no violence of Construction can wrest to a wrong sense.  
Here let us return to the Casina, 
This proved from the Epilogue to the Casina.  to which the Poet gives a very smutty conclusion, and a more smutty Epilogue. Grex, that speaks the Epilogue, advises the Audience to clap lustily and give the Poet his due, and to those that did it, he wishes as many Whores as they pleased, unknown to their Wives; but to those that did not clap, he wishes a He-Goat besmeared with the Filth of a Ship for a Concubine.  
Nunc nos aequum est, manibus meritis meritam mercedem daffre,  
Qui faxit, clam uxorem ducat scortum semper quod volet.  
Verum qui non manibus clare, quantum poterit, pluserit,  
Ei pro scorto suppon●tur hircus unctus nautea.  
Here we have a Sample of the Poet's Morals, 
Epilogue to the Asinaria an Encouragement to Lewdness.  which Mr Collier has warranted, as we have already seen. In the Epilogue to the Asinaria, if we may take Plautus' word, we may have a Taste of the Manners of his Age and Country, which Mr Collier is likewise very fond of. From both which put together, we may give a reasonable guess at Mr Collier's own Palate in such matters. Demaenetus his Wife had caught him in a Bawdy-house, whoring in his Son's company, and rated him home, which concludes the Action of the Play. Hereupon Grex by way of application thus accosts the Audience.  
Hic senex siquid clam uxorem suo animo fecit volupe,  
Neque novum, neque mirum fecit, nec secus quam alii solent,  
Nec quisqua st tam ingenio duro, nec tam firmo pectore  
Quin ubi quicquam occasionis sit, sibi faciat bene.  
Here the Poet justifies Whoring, even in an old married man, and pleads the common practice in defence of it. He thinks no man can withstand a fair temptation to do himself good. For with that Phrase, he sweetens the business and qualifies the offence.  
Let Mr Collier compare these two Epilogues with those English ones to which he refers, and then condemn them, and absolve these if he can. Nay, even the Play of which Plautus himself makes his boast, 
Captivi.  That 'twas written up to the strictest rules of Chastity; that few such Comedies were to be found, by which those that were already good, might be made better, has a very broad touch of Smut in the Epilogue, even at the time he is valuing himself upon his Modesty, 
Spectatores, 
Epilogue to the Captivi.  ad pudicos mores facta haec fabula est.  
Neque in hac subagitationes sunt—  
Hujusmodi paucas Poetae reperiunt Comaedias,  
Vbi boni meliores fiant—   
Such Instances as these crowd themselves so upon us almost every where in Plautus, that 'tis hard to pass 'em over, and endless to take notice of 'em. But having already far transgressed the intended limits of this discourse, I shall trespass no farther upon the Reader's patience on this head.  
His next complaint is the abuse of the Clergy. 
Complaint of the Abuse of the Clergy not well grounded.  Were this complaint justly grounded, it would merit not only his, but all honest men's Indignation, and Resentments. But this Charge does not seem to be sufficiently made out. For 'tis raised upon a very weak foundation, a mistaken Notion, that Priests above all the rest of Mankind, are by privilege exempted from having their faults taken notice of this way; His reason for this shall be considered by and by. I suppose, if Mr Collier's Band hung awry, or his Face was dirty, he would use the assistance of a Glass to make all right and clean. Why then does he reject the use of that which might do the same office for his mind, and help him to correct the follies and management of his Life? The case is plain, he is blind to his own Faults, and mad that any one else should see 'em. This makes him call the showing any of their failings, exposing the Clergy, as if thereby only they became public, not considering that the Glass shows our Faults to ourselves only; other people can see 'em as plainly and as readily without its help. But Mr Collier, who takes every thing by the wrong handle, looks upon a correction as a reproach, and had rather a Fault should pass unmended, than be taken notice of. But because he pleads a peculiar Charter for the exemption of the Priesthood, let us see how he makes out his Title. The Considerations, upon which he found'st it, are three.  
First, Because of their Relation to the Deity.  
This Relation to the Deity he swells to a monstrous size, 
Their Relation to the Deity to considered.  and blows himself presumptuously up in his own conceit, to a Condition something above mortal. He pretends to no less, than to be one of the Principal Ministers of God's Kingdom, 
P. 127. 128.  to represent his Person, to publish his Laws, Pass his Pardons, and Preside in his Worship. Mr Collier's Pride has here hurried him into prodigious Insolence and Folly. To raise his own Character, he has made a Pope of every individual Priest, and given that to the meanest of 'em, which the most Orthodox part of the Christian World deny to the pretended Successor of St Peter? Is not the whole world God's Kingdom? What then, are its Kings, Princes, and Rulers, if every Priest be before 'em in Authority? Mr Collier, I believe, is the first bold Mortal, that ever pretended to represent the person of God Almighty seriously. This to me sounds more like Blasphemy, than any thing in the most profane Poet. The Pope indeed presumes to style himself Christ's Vicar general, but he does not presume to be the Representative of his Person. As Mr Collier has assumed a higher Title, so, I suppose, he expects more reverence. 'Tis strange that Enthusiasm should shoot to such a height in our cold Climate, which it scarce ever reached in Rome its Native Place. But Mr Collier keeps a hot Bed, where he forces up violent Notions, in spite of the opposition of an unnatural Soil and Season.  
But I should be glad to know, 
Personal Representation of Deity absurd.  wherein this personal Representation consists. Does he pretend, like the Pope, to possess any of the Divine Attributes? Infallibility, even of the Church itself, has been long since justly exploded by all sober Christians, that know, and dare to use their Reason in the guidance of their Consciences. And the Pope himself in the height of his Pride and Usurpation, never pretended to more. But in what does this vain Creature resemble his Creator? Can a grovelling Mortal sustain the Majesty and Figure of Omnipotence.  
If notwithstanding all these Magnificent expressions of himself, 
The Power of the Church not lodged with the Priest.  and his order, Mr Collier means no more, than than that a Priest derives a subordinate Authority from the Church, to exercise his Function in Spiritual matters conformably to her directions, than all this insolent profane Bombast dwindles to nothing. For though a very great power and trust is reposed in the Church, yet I don't find, that this Power was ever lodged entire with the Priest, or any other single person whatsoever. And therefore Mr Collier grasps at too much, when he claims the same respect, and deference for every Priest, that is, or aught to be paid to the Church, and the Governors of it.  
But Mr Collier finds, 
Mission of St. Paul, and the Apostles what and how circumstantiated.  that St. Paul calls himself and the rest of the Apostles the Ambassadors of Christ, and thinks himself thereby sufficiently warranted to take upon him to represent the person of God. The word which St Paul employs, 2 Cor. 5. 20. is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifies to come by commission from another, and consequently may probably enough be rendered, We are the Ambassadors, though it does not always import so much. Mr Collier lays hold of the word Ambassador, and fancies himself in the highest, and most honourable post that can be, under God Almighty, that is, to represent his Person, to publish his Laws, Pass his Pardons, and Preside in his Worship. All this indeed, except the Personal Representation, was the Office of St Paul, and the rest of the Apostles. But without affronting, or lessening the Authority of the Clergy, I think I may lawfully question whether Mr Collier's Commission be of equal Extent or Validity with theirs. They were called to the Ministry immediately by God himself, endued with supernatural and miraculous Faculties, and Powers both of Discerning, and Operation by Inspiration from the Holy Ghost himself. They were to plant in the World a new Faith, which had not yet been heard of, except in a very small part of the world. Their Doctrines were revealed immediately to themselves, and had no other Evidence than their own Affirmation, and the Works that they did, to back and confirm what they taught. They had occasion for a Spirit more than naturally discerning to be assured of the sincerity of their Converts, and for a Commission and Power extraordinary, to remit the sins of those that they found to be true Penitents, and to support themselves and their Proselytes against the Oppressions of the Civil Power.  
These circumstances, 
Difference betwixt their Commission and that of the present Ministry.  as I take it, make a very wide difference between the Ministry, and Commission of the Apostles, and the other immediate Disciples of our Saviour, and the Christian Ministry at this time. For first, They have now no immediate call to the Ministry, whatever some Enthusiastic or Knavish Sectaries may pretend. Secondly, They have no natural Gifts above other men, to warrant a Pretence to an extraordinary Mission. Thirdly, They have now no peculiar Revelation, nor any other Rule of Faith, or Source of Doctrine, which is not common to all mankind with them. The Scriptures lie open for all that will look into 'em, and our Clergy pretend to no supernatural Gift of Exposition above the Laity, and consequently can offer no new matter of Faith. Fourthly, They pretend to no Spirit of Discerning above the condition of mere humanity to enable 'em to see into men's hearts, and judge of the sincerity of their repentance, and consequently must dispose of Pardons blindfold, if they exercise any such power, otherwise than conditional, and upon the terms expressed in Scripture. But the pronouncing an Absolution on those terms, is not passing a Pardon, any more than allowing the benefit of the Clergy to a Malefactor in a Court of Judicature is an act of Grace in the Bench. Lastly, Since the World became Christian, those extraordinary Commissions, which the Apostles and Primitive Christians had, ceased with the reasons of 'em. For when the Princes and Rulers of the World became the Proselytes and Protectors of Christianity, there was no further occasion to propagate the Gospel by extraordinary methods, which had the Civil Power on its side. By this means the care of the Church devolved upon the State, and the Priesthood became subordinate to it. For though no State or Prince can make any thing a Rule of Faith, which was not so before in its Nature, or by some higher obligation, yet in matters of Practice in things indifferent towards which the Scriptures leave us at liberty, they have in all Countries (not under the usurpation of the Pope) asserted their Authority by ordering and directing the Forms and Models of Church Government, and appointing the Persons of the Governors, who are therefore undoubtedly subordinate to those, by whose Authority they govern.  
From these differences 'tis plain, that the Ministry at present stands upon quite another foot, than it did in the time of the Apostles; and that Mr Collier challenges a relation to the Deity which he has not, and in right of that a greater Reverence and respect than is due to him.  
His second consideration is, 
Importance of their Office no exemption.  The Importance of their Office. What that is, has been in great measure laid down in the preceding Article. How far they are concerned in publishing Gods Laws, and passing his Pardons has been already examined. There was indeed a time, when the Priests had a Monopoly of Faith and Salvation, and retailed out Articles and Indulgences to the Laity, who repaired to the Bank of Implicit Faith and Merit for as much as their occasions required. But the weakness of their Fund being discovered, that Bank is broke long since in England. and the Laity have taken their Consciences into their own Custody again, to Mr Collier's great Disappointment. However they preside (he says) in the Worship of God. If he means by presiding, Officiating, he presides over his congregation, as a Clerk in Parliament presides over the House, because he reads the Bills, Petitions, etc. to 'em. That to officiate in the House of God is an Employment of great Importance and honour, I shall readily grant. And as they that perform their duty in that station conscientiously and well deserve all due respect and honour; so on the other hand, those that prostitute their Character to base ends, and make the Cassock a Cover for Pride, Ambition, Avarice, Hypocrisy, Knavery, or Folly, deserve to be corrected, and exposed to the Public. The importance of the Office, which Mr Collier pleads in bar to any Lay Censure upon 'em, is a strong Argument for it. For in proportion to the weight of the trust, aught to be the check upon it.  
There may be many Faults amongst the inferior Clergy, 
Some faults not cognizable by the Ordinary.  which escape the notice, or do not fall properly under the cognizance of the Ordinary, which 'tis convenient should be amended, for the reputation of the Order, and the good of the Offenders themselves. Mr Collier thinks otherwise, he owns that they ought not to be seen, but he would have the People's Eyes put out, rather than the Offence removed. A Blot's no Blot till 'tis hit; so the reputation of the Clergy be safe, 'tis no matter for their Manners; for the Sin lies in the Scandal. Else why is he so angry with the Poets, for taking notice, that there is such a thing now and then to be seen in the world as a Faulty Clergyman? The Order does not pretend to be any more exempt from failings, than other men. Then where's the Offence in showing what those Frailties are, to which they lie most exposed? 'Tis true, this can't be done in the Dramatic way, without the appearance of the Offender by his Proxy; which stirs Mr Collier's Blood, who would have the Laity believe 'em absolutely without Fault. 'Twere well if they were so indeed, but since they are not, I think it not just nor reasonable, that the Laity should be cheated into such a belief. The man that labours too much to conceal his Faults, shows that he aims rather at Impunity than Repentance. For men seldom think of Reformation, while they can run on in a prosperous course of undiscovered Villainy.  
Upon this account Mr Collier's reasoning appears very odd and singular. For if the concealing and covering of Men's Vices, be the means to advance and promote their corruption, he seems to take a sort of retrograde way to Reformation. But his fear is, that the Vices of some few thus publicly shown, should reflect upon the whole Order, and weaken their Credit and Authority in the Ministerial Function. This objection is already answered in the article of the Misrepresentation of Women; what has been there said holds good here, and needs no repetition. It can therefore be of no ill consequence; For those that are just, and Conscientious in the exercise of their Functions will lose no Credit or Authority; and those that are not, have too much, if they have any.  
If Priests be without Fault, 
Priests not misrepresented unless faultless.  then to paint 'em with any is a Misrepresentation, and an abuse, a malicious slandering of the Order. But if they be not, 'tis fit that the rotten Sheep should be marked and driven from the Flock, to prevent the contagion, whether of the Disease or the Scandal, which are equally catching. But Mr Collier has learned Politics of Hudibras, and would have Priests whipped by Proxy; their Faults should be chastised on Laymens' Backs. We thank him for his kindness, and are very willing to be his Deputies, provided he can prove that the Physic will have its effect that way. I have been told, that a Purge given to a wet Nurse, would operate with the Child; but I never heard of a Medicine that would work Vice versa. I grant, that they ought not to be corrected on the Stage for Lay Follies. Their Characters must be proper, in order to which, whether they play the Fool or the Knave, it must be seasoned with a cast of the Profession; otherwise they are Lay Fools and Knaves in Masquerade. But as the Characters ought not to be so general, as to represent whole Bodies of Men, so neither ought they to be so particular, as to stigmatize Individuals, as they did in the Old Comedy. If this Caution be observed, not only the Collective Body of the Clergy, but every individual Man amongst 'em is safe from scandal from that Quarter. If the Poets have not observed it, Mr Collier in vindication of the Clergy has a just Provocation to lash 'em severely. But if they have, than Mr Collier does 'em wrong, and the Poets ought to resume the Whipcerd, and return the Compliment.  
His last, 
His Plea from Prescription examined.  and, as it appears by his dilating so largely upon it, his strongest Consideration is, that They have Prescription for their Privilege. Their Profession has been in possession of esteem in all Ages and Countries. That it has been in Esteem, and that it ought still to be so, more than it is, I believe the Poets themselves will allow. But that it has always been esteemed so sacred, that the Ancient Poets durst never suffer any of their Persons of the Drama to make bold with it, I deny; and I think I shall demonstrate the contrary.  
I shall confine myself to the Dramatic Poets, 
Instance to the contrary from Sophocles.  and only observe, that so the Priest be well treated 'tis no matter how his God is served. For Homer is caressed at a high rate, for putting a Crown upon Chryses' head, though he uses the whole Tribe of the Gods like Scoundrels. The first Poet, that I shall produce is Sophocles. In the close of his Ajax the Chorus gives us the Moral of the Play in these words; Experience teaches us much, but before the Event is seen, ne'er a Prophet of 'em all can tell what things will come to.  
X. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
Ajax Flagellifer.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This is a plain reflection upon the Profession, and so remarkably circumstantiated, that there is no doubt, but 'twas the Poet's real sense. For 'tis spoken by the Chorus, and made the Moral of the Play.  
I shall pass by the reproaches which Oedipus makes Tiresias, because Mr Collier says they relate only to his Person, though he himself in his Defence will allow no distinction betwixt the Man and the Priest. If you make the Man a Knave, the Priest must suffer under the Imputation. However in the same Play● Jocasta says, She would not give a Rush for Divination.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
Oedipus Tyrannus.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
In the next Play Creon amongst other reproaches tells Tiresias, that They were all a Pack of Mercenary Corrupt Fellows.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
Antigone.  
We have not room to multiply instances so far, as we might, but these may suffice to show, that Sophocles was not so much afraid of a Priest as Mr Collier pretends.  
Euripides is not a whit more tender of 'em, 
Eurip●des not mo●e tender of Priests.  Agamemnon calls the whole tribe of 'em a vainglorious rascally Race.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
Iphigenia in Aulid▪.  
Achilles in the same Play (the Sobriety of whose Character Mr Collier is much in love with) threatens Calohas the Prophet before spoken of, and breaks out into this exclamation; What are Prophets? Fellows that by guests sometimes tell truth, but generally Lies.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
Ibidem.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Pentheus' in the Bacchaes uses Tiresias very ruggedly. He charges him with being Mercenary, and an Impostor, with seducing the People, and introducing a new false superstitious Worship, and orders the Seats from whence he took his Augural Observation to be pulled down, with abundance of other Menaces, and hard words. These may suffice for Euripides at this time.  
Seneca makes little use of the Prophets, or Priests; 
S●neca meddles little with 〈◊〉.  Tiresias appears twice in his Oedipus, and Calchas once only to deliver an Oracle. Oedipus charges Tiresias with confederating with Creon, and charging a false crime upon him, and traitorously endeavouring to supplant him in his Throne. These Instances sufficiently demonstrate, that the Ancients were not afraid to make their Persons of the Drama speak pertinently to their Character, though they should thereby happen to bear hard upon their Priests. Nay, they thought it no offence to make 'em speak things inconsistent with Piety, and the Religion of their Country.  
The Instances of this are innumerable. 
Ajex An●igone and Ph●●octetes.  The Rants of Ajax, Creon, and Philoctetes in Sophocles are extravagant. This Tragedian affords abundance, but to make a collection of scattered expressions, would require more room than we can at present spare; 
Euripides and Seneca full of profane expressions.  however, Euripides and Seneca afford divers so very remarkable, that I can't pass 'em over absolutely without notice. In the Hecuba, Talthybius exclaims at a strange rate upon the Consideration of the turn of Hecuba's fortune. O Jupiter! what shall I say? should mankind address themselves to you: Or have we been cheated with a shame Story of Gods, and Providence, while Chance governs all things?  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
Hecuba.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Polymestor is much such another sort of a Comforter, he cries out in the same Play, and upon the same occasion, Oh what a slippery thing is Human Grandeur, which is never secure. The Gods perplex and harrass Mankind, that our Ignorance may support their Altars, and Worship.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
Ibidem.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Electra, for a short one has a very pithy Ejaculation. O Nature, what a curse art thou upon Mortals.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
Orestes.  
Her Brother Orestes is allied to her in Principles as near as in Blood; he can't tell what to make of the Gods, any more than the two Gentlemen before. Yet he serves 'em whatever they be.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
Ibidem.  
All that he knows of 'em is, that they are naturally dilatory.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
Ibidem.  
Hecuba is much of his mind; 
Troades.  she thinks the Gods but bad Friends, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The Cyclops tellVlysses, That Riches were the wise man's only God, and that he did not care a fart for Jupiter; but thought himself as great a God as he.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
Cyclops.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
In the jon, which is pretended to be a Moral Play, Creusa addresses herself directly to Apollo, 
jon.  and calls him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, lewd Whoremaster. Her Servant afterwards calls him Rascal, and advises her to set fire to his Temple. With such Flowers as these Euripides abounds, which I leave for others to gather.  
Seneca is as full of 'em as he, but I shall refer the Reader only to the Chorus of the second Act of his Troas, which being spoken by the Chorus looks more like the Poet's own Opinion, than if it had come from any other Person of the Drama.  
Post mortem nihil est, 
Troas.  ipsaque mors nihil,  
Velocis spatij meta novissima.  
Spem ponant avidi, soliciti metum.  
Quaeris quo jaceas post obitum loco?  
Quo non nata jacent.  
Tempus nos avidum devorat, & chaos.  
Mors individua est noxia corpori,  
Nec parcens animae. Taenara, & aspero  
Regnum sub Domino, limen & obsidens  
Custos non facili Cerberus ostio,  
Rumores vacui, verbaque inania,  
Et par solicito fabula somnio.  
Which is thus translated by the Earl of Rochester.  
After Death nothing is, and nothing Death,  
The utmost Limits of a Gasp of Breath.  
Let the Ambitious Zealot lay aside  
His Hopes of Heaven (whose Faith is but his Pride)  
Let slavish Souls lay by their Fear,  
Nor be concerned which way, or where,  
After this Life they shall be hurled,  
Dead they become the lumber of the World.  
And to that Mass of Matter shall be swept,  
Where things destroyed with things unborn are kept.  
Devouring Time swallows us whole,  
Impartial Death confounds Body and Soul.  
For H●●, and the foul Fiend that rules  
The everlasting fiery Goals,  
Devised by Rog●●s, dreaded by Fools,  
With his grim griezly Dog that keeps the Door,  
Are senseless Stories, idle Tales,  
Dreams, Whimsies, and no more.  
Another exception, 
Rude treatment of the Nobility a false charge.  which Mr Collier makes to the Stage is, that they treat the Nobility rudely. I must confess 'tis no compliment to make a Fool of a Lord. But if Birth or any other Chance should make a Lord of a Fool, I suppose the rest of that Noble Order would not think themselves accountable for his Follies, or abused in his Picture. Should the Poets presume to make such a one the Representative of his Order, and propose him as a common Standard, by which the Endowments of Quality in general were to be measured, their Insolence would deserve the severest chastisement that could be given. Or should any one of 'em dare to characterise too nearly and particularly any of those Noble Persons, no doubt but he would soon feel the weight of his Resentments, and smart sorely for his saucy Liberty. But while the Poet contents himself with feigned Persons, and copies closely after Nature, without pressing upon her in her private recesses, and singling out Individuals from the herd, if any Man, of what Quality or Employment soever, fancies himself concerned in the representation, let him spoil the Picture by mending the Original. For he only is to be blamed for the Resemblance. If Men of Honour and Abilities could entail their Wisdom and Virtues upon their Posterity, than a Title would be a pretty sure sign of Personal Worth, and the Respect and Reverence that was paid to the Founders of honourable Families ought to follow the Estate, and the heir of one should be heir of tother. But since Entails of this kind are of all kinds the most liable to be cut off, 'tis not absolutely impossible but there may be such a thing in the world, as a Fop of Quality. Now if there be such a thing, it does not appear to me, that because the Persons are great, and elevated by their Dignity above the rest of Mankind, and draw the Eyes of the People upon 'em, more than other men do, that therefore their Faults or Imperfections will be less visible, or less taken notice of, or that the Splendour of their Figure is an infallible Antidote against the Infection of their Examples. Unless it be so, it is convenient that some reasonable Expedient should be allowed to prevent the Mischief of Imitation, and that those who are too big to be awed out of their Follies, may be shamed out of 'em. But this is only Hypothetically offered. Mr Collier perhaps will tell us, that there are no such Persons, that a Fool of Quality is a mere Poetical Animal, and aught to be ranked amongst the Harpies, Hippogryphs, Centaurs, and Chimaeras of Antiquity. If he proves this, my Hypothesis in this point falls to the ground, otherwise I think it may stand in opposition to any thing that has yet been said.  
If these and abundance of other Passages in the Ancient Poets were compared with those which Mr Collier produces out of the Moderns, the comparative Rudeness and Profaneness of the latter would vanish. But he presumes upon the laziness, or ignorance of the Majority of his Readers, and does not expect that any of 'em should be at the pains to confront his arbitrary, and unfair accounts, with genuine quotations. But 'tis time to have compassion upon the Reader, who has run the Gauntlet thro' a tedious Refutation; in which if his satisfaction equals his Patience, the Author thinks his pains sufficiently recompensed.  
FINIS.