totle fays rightly, the moving of laughter is a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude, that depraves fome part of a man's Nature without a disease. As a wry face without pain moves laughter, or a deformed vizard, or a rude clown, dreft in a lady's habit, and ufing her actions, we diflike, and fcorn fuch reprefentations; which made the ancient philofophers ever think laughter unfitting in a wife inan. And this induced Plato to efteem of Homer, as a facrilegious perfon; because he prefented the Gods fometimes laughing. As, also it is divinely faid of Ariftotle, that to feem ridiculous is a part of dishonesty, and foolish.

So that, what either in the words, or sense of an author, or in the language, or actions of men is awry, or depraved, doth ftrangely ftir mean affections, and provoke for the most part to laughter. And therefore it was clear, that all infolent, and obfcene fpeeches, jeft upon the beft men; injuries to particular perfons; perverfe, and finifter fayings (and the rather unexpected) in the old comedy, did move laughter; efpecially, where it did imitate any dishonesty, and fcurrility came forth in the place of wit: which who understands the nature and Genius of laughter, cannot but perfectly know.

Of which Aristophanes affords an ample haryeft, having not only out-gone Plautus, or any other in that kind; but expreffed all the moods,

and

and figures of what is ridiculous, oddly. In fhort, as vinegar is not accounted good, until the wine be corrupted: fo jefts that are true and natural, feldom raise laughter, with the beaft, the multitude. They love nothing that is right, and proper. The farther it runs from reason, or poffibility with them, the better it is.

What could have made them laugh, like to fee Socrates prefented, that example of all good life, honefty, and virtue, to have him hoisted up with a pully, and there play the philofopher, in a basket: measure, how many foot a flea could fkip Geometrically, by a juft fcale, and edify the people from the engine. This was Theatrical wit, right ftage-jefting, and relishing a playhoufe, invented for fcorn and laughter; whereas, if it had favoured of equity, truth, perfpicuity, and candour, to have tasten a wise, or a learned palate, fpit it out presently; "this is bit"ter and profitable, this instructs, and would in"form us: what need we know any thing, that are nobly born, more than a horfe-race, or a "hunting-match, our day to break with citizens, "and fuch innate myfteries ?"

This is truly leaping from the stage, to the tumbrel again, reducing all wit to the original dung cart.

Of

Of the magnitude, and compafs of any Fable,
Epick, or Dramatick.

To the refolving of this Queftion, we muft first agree in the definition of the fable. The fable is called the Imitation of one intire, and perfect action; whofe parts are so joined, and knit together, as nothing in the structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing, or troubling the whole; of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members. As for example; if a man would build a house, he would first appoint a place to build it in, which he would define within certain bounds: fo in the conftitution of a Poem, the action is aimed at by the Poet, which answers place in a building; and that action hath his largeness, compaís, and proportion. But, as a court, or King's Bench palace requires other dimensions than a private house: fo the Epick afks a magnitude, from other Poems. Since, what is place in the one, is action in the other, the difference is in fpace. So that by this definition we conclude the fable, to be the imitation of one perfect, and intire action; as one perfect, and intire place is required to a building. By perfect, we understand that, to which nothing is wanting; as place to the building, that is raifed, and action to the fable that is formed. It is perfect, perhaps,

3

haps, not for a court, or King's palace, which requires a greater ground, but for the ftructure he would raise; fo the space of the action, may not prove large enough for the Epick Fable, yet be perfect for the Dramatick, and WHOLE.

WHOLE, We call that, and PERFECT, which hath a beginning, a midft, and an end. So the place of any building may be whole, and intire, for that work; though too little for a palace. As, to a Tragedy or a Comedy, the action may be convenient, and perfect, that would not fit an Epick Poem in magnitude. So a lyon is a perfect creature in himself, though it be lefs, than that of a Buffalo, or a Rhinocerote. They differ but in fpecie: either in the kind is abfolute. Both have their parts, and either the whole. Therefore, as in every body, fo in every action, which is the fubject of a juft work, there is required a certain proportionable greatness, neither too vaft, nor too minute. For that which . happens to the eyes, when we behold a body, the fame happens to the memory, when we contemplate an action. I look upon a monstrous giant, as Tityus, whofe body covered nine acres of land, and mine eye fticks upon every part: the whole that confifts of thofe parts, will never be taken in at one intire view. So in a Fable, if the action be too great, we can never comprehend the whole together in our imagination, Again, if it be too little, there arifeth no pleas

fure

fure out of the object, it affords the view no stay : it is beheld and vanifheth at once. As if we fhould look upon an ant or pifmire, the parts fly the fight, and the whole confidered is almoft nothing. The fame happens in action, which is the object of memory, as the body is of fight. Too vaft oppreffeth the eyes, and exceeds the memory too little fcarce admits either.

Now in every action it behoves the Poet to know which is the utmost bound, how far with fitnefs, and a neceffary proportion, he may produce, and determine it. That is, till either good fortune change into the worse, or the worfe into the better. For as a body without proportion cannot be goodly, no more can the action, either in comedy, or tragedy, without it's fit bounds. And every bound for the nature of the fubject, is esteemed the best that is largest, till it can increase no more: fo it behoves the action in Tragedy, or Comedy, to be let grow, till the neceffity afk a conclufion: wherein two things are to be confidered; first, that it exceed not the compafs of one day: next, that there be place left for digreffion, and art. the Episodes, and digreffions in a fable, are the fame that houfhold-ftuff, and other furniture are in a house. And fo far for the meafure, and extent of a Fable Dramatick..

For

Now, that it should be one, and intire. One is confiderable two ways: either, as it is only

I

feparate,