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his Art of Sinking in Poetry, which he endeavours to bring into Difgrace, from Double Distress, as he calls it I fuppofe he means Double Falfhood; for that is the Title of the Play published by me. I fhould have expected from fome others, that, when they were upon the Bufinefs of finding Fault, they should not have commited fuch an Error. But 'tis meer Word-catching, and beneath a great Genius to be exact in any Thing.

One of these Paffages, alledged by our critical Examiner, is of that Stamp, which is certainly to determine me in the Clafs of his profound Writers: For a genuine Writer of the Profound will take Care never to magnify any Object without clouding it at the fame Time. The Place, fo offenfive for its Cloudiness, is this.

The Obfcureness of her Birth Cannot eclipfe the Luftre of her Eyes, Which make her all one Light.

I must own, I think, a Man needs be no great Oedipus to folve the Difficulty of this Paffage. Nothing has ever been more common than for Lovers to compare their Miftreffes Eyes to Suns and Stars. And what does Henriquez fay more here than this, That tho' his Mistress be obfcure by her Birth, yet her Eyes are fo refulgent, they fet her above that Disadvantage, and make her all over Brightness ? Now wherein is this Thought fo wonderfully magnified, or clouded? The only Obfcurity, that I can yet find in the Paffage, is in Mr. Pope's clouding it by Mifunderflanding. For if he will take a fimple Defcription of Beauty to be the Defcription of a Lady at Dinner, as he is pleased to do here, there is, indeed, fomething of the Boeotian Fog in the Cafe. I remember another Rapture in Shakespear, upon a Painter's

Painter's drawing a fine Lady's Picture, where the Thought feems to me every whit as much magnified, and as dark at the first Glance.

But her Eyes

How could he fee to do them! Having done one,
Methinks it should have Power to fteal both his,
And leave itself unfinished..

This Paffage is taken from the Merchant of Venice; and if the Examiner will not allow it to be dark, I'll venture to produce another out of the fame Play, that, I believe, every Body will agree to be so.

Grat. My Eyes, my Lord, can look as swift as yours
You faw the Miftrefs, I beheld the Maid;
You lov'd; I lov'd for Intermiffion.

No more pertains to me, my Lord, than you.

If I did not know a little more of Shakespear, than Mr. Pope has yet convinced the Publick that he does, Ifhould, from fuch Inftances, take him to be a very cloudy Writer. It were worth fomething, methinks, to know what Ideas Mr. Pope had of Gratiano's loving for Intermiffion. Surely, he will hardly perfuade us, that Intermiffion here means for want of fomething elfe to do, because he would not stand idle. By a preper Variation in the Pointing, and a very fhort Comment, I'll undertake to clear up the Clouds of this dark Place; and thus it must be corrected, before it can be understood.

Grat. My Eyes, my Lord, can look as fwift as yours; You faw the Mistress, I beheld the Maid:

You lov'd;. I lov'd: (For Intermiffion

No more pertains to me, my Lord than you..

i. e. For, in a Love-Adventure, I could no more Stand out, no more be idle, or unactive, than you.

But

But Self-Defence, and Correction, and not Correction, was the Design of this Epistle; fo I'll proceed to his fecond Obfervation, and fee how hard that will bear upon me.

Another of the Paffages which Mr. Pope is pleas'd to be merry with, is in a Speech of Violante's; Wax! render up thy Truft.

This, in his English, is open the Letter: And he facetiously mingles it with fome pompous Inftances, moft, I fuppofe, of his own Framing; which in plain Terms fignify no more than, See, who's there, Snuff the Candle; Uncork the Bottle; Chip the Bread; to fhew how ridiculous Actions of no Confequence are, when too much exalted in the Diction. This he brings under a Figure, which he calls the Buskin, or Stately. But we'll examine Circumftances fairly, and then we fhall fee which is moft ridiculous, the Phrafe, or our fagacious Cenfurer.

Violante is newly debauched by Henriquez, on his folemn Promise of marrying her: She thinks, he is returning to his Father's Court, as he told her, for a fhort Time; and expects no Letter from him. His Servant, who brings the Letter, contradicts his Mafter's going for Court; and tells her he's gone fome two Months Progrefs another Way, upon a Change of Purpose. She, who knew what Conceffions fhe had made to him, declares herself by Starts, under the greatest Agonies; and immediately, upon the Servant leaving her, expreffes an equal Impatience and Fear for the Contents of this unexpected Letter.

To Hearts like mine Sufpence is Mifery.
Wax! render up thy Truft.Be the Contents
Profp'rous, or fatal, they are all my Due.

Now Mr. Pope fhews us his profound Judgment

in Dramatical Paffions, thinks a Lady in her Circumstances cannot, without Abfurdity, open a Leter that comes to her on Surprize, with any more Preparation than the most unconcern'd Perfon alive fhould a common Letter by the Penny-Poft. I'll beg Leave to put him in mind of two Paffages in ShakeSpear, in both which the Poet has, upon opening Letters, prefac'd the Action with the like Address to the Wax, The first is in King Lear, where Edgar having, in Defence of his Father, kill'd Goneril's Steward, fearches his Pockets for Papers, and finding a Letter, breaks it open, with this Introduction.

Leave, gentle Wax; and Manners blame us not; To know out Enemies Minds, we rip their Hearts; Their Papers are more lawful.

The other is in Cymbeline. The Princefs Imogen, whose Husband is banifhed, has a Letter from him brought to her by her Servant Pifanio. The poor Lady, whofe Love makes her afraid that her abfent Lord may either not be in Health, or discontented at his Exile, prays, neither of these may be the Cafe, and breaks up the Letter with fomewhat more Solemnity.

Good Wax, thy Leave. Bleft be you Bees, that make thefe Locks of Counfel! &c.

I am aware Mr. Pope may reply, his Cavil was not against the Action itself of addreffing to the Wax, but to the exalting that Action in the Terms. In this Point I may fairly shelter myself under the Judgment of a Man, whofe Character in Poetry will vie with any Rival this Age fhall produce. Mr. DRYDEN, in his Effay on Dramatick Poefy, tells us, "That ❝ when,

when, from the moft elevated Thoughts of Verse, "we pass to thofe which are moft mean, and which " are common with the loweft of Houfhold Con"versation; yet ftill there is a Choice to be made "of the best Words, and the leaft Vulgar, (pro"vided they be apt) to exprefs fuch Thoughts. Our

Language (fays he) is noble, full, and fignificant; "and I know not why, he, who is Master of it, "may not cloath ordinary Things in it, as decently 86 as the Latin, if he ufe the fame Diligence in his Choice of Words."

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I come now in the laft Quotation, which, in our Examiner's handling, falls under this Predicament, of being a Thought astonishingly out of the Way of common Senfe.

Nought but himself can be his Parallel.

This he hints, may feem borrowed from the Thought of that Master of a Show in Smithfield, who writ in large Letters over the Picture of his Elephant, This is the greatest Elephant in the World except himself. I like the Pleafantry of the Gentleman's Banter, but have no great Doubt of getting clear from the Severity of it. The Lines in the Play ftand thus;

Is there a Treachery like this in Baseness,
Recorded any where? It is the deepest:
None but itself can be its Parallel.

I am not a little furprized to find, that our Examiner at laft is dwindled into a Word-catcher. Literally fpeaking, indeed, I agree with Mr. Pope, that nothing can be the Parallel to itfelf; but allowing a little for the Liberty of Expreffion, does it not plainly imply, that it is a Treachery which stands fingle for the Nature of its Bafenefs, and has not its Paral

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