rse. You are gone beyond it; and to
continue where you are, is to lodge in the open fields, betwixt two
inns. You have lost that which you call natural, and have not acquired
the last perfection of art. But it was only custom which cozened us so
long; we thought, because Shakespeare and Fletcher went no farther,
that there the pillars of poetry were to be erected; that, because
they excellently described passion without rhime, therefore rhime was
not capable of describing it. But time has now convinced most men of
that error. It is indeed so difficult to write verse, that the
adversaries of it have a good plea against many, who undertook that
task, without being formed by art or nature for it. Yet, even they who
have written worst in it, would have written worse without it: They
have cozened many with their sound, who never took the pains to
examine their sense. In fine, they have succeeded; though, it is true,
they have more dishonoured rhime by their good success, than they have
done by their ill. But I am willing to let fall this argument: It is
free for every man to write, or not to write, in verse, as he judges
it to be, or not to be, his talent; or as he imagines the audience
will receive it.

For heroic plays, in which only I have used it without the mixture of
prose, the first light we had of them, on the English theatre, was
from the late Sir William D'Avenant. It being forbidden him in the
rebellious times to act tragedies and comedies, because they contained
some matter of scandal to those good people, who could more easily
dispossess their lawful sovereign, than endure a wanton jest, he was
forced to turn his thoughts another way, and to introduce the examples
of moral virtue, writ in verse, and performed in recitative music. The
original of this music, and of the scenes which adorned his work, he
had from the Italian operas; but he heightened his characters, as I
may probably imagine, from the example of Corneille and some French
poets. In this condition did this part of poetry remain at his
majesty's return; when, growing bolder, as being now owned by a public
authority, he reviewed his "Siege of Rhodes," and caused it be acted
as a just drama. But as few men have the happiness to begin and finish
any new project, so neither did he live to make his design perfect:
There wanted the fulness of a plot, and the variety of characters to
form it as it ought; and, perhaps, something might have been added to
the