e country to another in the same period of time. Thus,
in _Julius Caesar_, Brutus, in one act is at Rome, and another in
Thessaly. Again, in _Coriolanus_, now we find him expelled by the
Romans, afterwards residing amongst the Volscians, and eventually
marching an immense army to the gates of Rome; all within the space of
two or three hours: this is a sad blow to any scenic illusion, and tends
to weaken, if it does not entirely break, the thread of the imagination.

There is one point in which I consider both Tragedy and Comedy, in
modern days, to be at fault, and that is in the constant introduction of
love on our stage. We cannot frequent the theatre without being sickened
by the repetition of some nauseous courtship and love-making, the
particulars of which, even in real life, can be agreeable to none but
the parties themselves. This blemish is said to have arisen during the
earlier periods of the drama, from the vanity of the female sex; who,
however much they were kept under control, and their opinions
disregarded in ancient days, have amply made up for that restriction
now, by taking matters of taste entirely under their direction. It is
said, that when modern play-writing first came in fashion, the ladies
refused to honour the theatre with their presence, unless their
inclinations were more attended to, and love was made the burthen of the
song. Accordingly, we find even the pure taste of Addison giving in to
this demand, and the otherwise beautiful tragedy of _Cato_ (for even the
unities are preserved in it) is spoiled by two stupid love plots, that
not only disfigure it, but throw a complete weariness over the whole.
With the ancients it was very different, and amongst all those splendid
Greek compositions which are regarded as models for the drama, we find
none of them, with the exception of Hippolitus, in which there is any of
this trifling with love affairs.

Before I close these observations, let me add, that in looking at this
question, we must consent to throw off our national prejudices; and in
drawing the comparison, not to regard English plays, whether tragic or
comic, as the standards of perfection. English Comedy is not only
considered inferior to that of most nations, but it is in many respects
bad in its tendency, and may almost be looked upon as a school for
vanity. To conclude, instead of regarding the drama as it is, I have
rather endeavoured to consider it as it should be.

F.

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