etter images of virtue drawn to the life in their
behaviour, than any I could feign to adorn the theatre. I confess, I
have only represented a practical virtue, mixed with the frailties and
imperfections of human life. I have made my heroine fearful of death,
which neither Cassandra nor Cleopatra would have been; and they
themselves, I doubt it not, would have outdone romance in that
particular. Yet their Mandana (and the Cyrus was written by a lady,)
was not altogether so hard-hearted: For she sat down on the cold
ground by the king of Assyria, and not only pitied him, who died in
her defence; but allowed him some favours, such, perhaps, as they
would think, should only be permitted to her Cyrus[7]. I have made my
Melesinda, in opposition to Nourmahal, a woman passionately loving of
her husband, patient of injuries and contempt, and constant in her
kindness, to the last; and in that, perhaps, I may have erred, because
it is not a virtue much in use. Those Indian wives are loving fools,
and may do well to keep themselves in their own country, or, at least,
to keep company with the Arrias and Portias of old Rome: Some of our
ladies know better things. But, it may be, I am partial to my own
writings; yet I have laboured as much as any man, to divest myself of
the self-opinion of an author; and am too well satisfied of my own
weakness, to be pleased with any thing I have written. But, on the
other side, my reason tells me, that, in probability, what I have
seriously and long considered may be as likely to be just and natural,
as what an ordinary judge (if there be any such among those ladies)
will think fit, in a transient presentation, to be placed in the room
of that which they condemn. The most judicious writer is sometimes
mistaken, after all his care; but the hasty critic, who judges on a
view, is full as liable to be deceived. Let him first consider all the
arguments, which the author had, to write this, or to design the
other, before he arraigns him of a fault; and then, perhaps, on second
thoughts, he will find his reason oblige him to revoke his censure.
Yet, after all, I will not be too positive. _Homo sum, humani a me
nihil alienum puto._ As I am a man, I must be changeable; and
sometimes the gravest of us all are so, even upon ridiculous
accidents. Our minds are perpetually wrought on by the temperament of
our bodies; which makes me suspect, they are nearer allied, than
either our philosophers or school-divines