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the name of the author. Langbaine charges it, like most of the rest, with plagiarism; and observes, that the song is translated from Voiture, allowing however that both the sense and measure are exactly observed.

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The Tempest (1670) is an alteration of Shakspeare's play, made by Dryden in conjunction with Davenant; "whom," says he, "I found of so quick a fancy, that nothing was proposed to him in which "he could not suddenly produce a thought ex"tremely pleasant and surprising; and those first thoughts of his, contrary to the Latin proverb, "were not always the least happy; and as his fancy was quick, so likewise were the products of it re66 mote and new. He borrowed not of any other.; "and his imaginations were such as could not easily "enter into any other man."

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The effect produced by the conjunction of these two powerful minds was, that to Shakspeare's monster, Caliban, is added a sister monster, Sycorax ; and a woman, who, in the original play, had never seen a man, is in this brought acquainted with a man that had never seen a woman.

About this time, in 1673, Dryden seems to have had his quiet much disturbed by the success of the Empress of Morocco, a tragedy written in rhyme by Elkanah Settle; which was so much applauded, as to make him think his supremacy of reputation in some danger. Settle had not only been prosperous on the stage, but, in the confidence of success, had published his play, with sculptures and a preface of defiance. Here was one offence added to another; and, for the last blast of inflammation, it was acted at Whitehall by the court-ladies.

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Dryden could not now repress those emotions, which he called indignation, and others jealousy; but wrote upon the play and the dedication such criticism as malignant impatience could pour out in haste.

Of Settle he gives this character: "He's an ani"mal of a most deplored understanding, without "reading and conversation. His being is in a twilight ❝of sense, and some glimmering of thought which "he can never fashion into wit or English. His style "is boisterous and rough-hewn, his rhyme incorrigibly lewd, and his numbers perpetually harsh and "ill-sounding. The little talent which he has, is

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fancy. He sometimes labours with a thought; but, "with the pudder he makes to bring it into the "world, 'tis commonly still-born; so that, for want "of learning and elocution, he will never be able to express any thing either naturally or justly."

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This is not very decent; yet this is one of the pages in which criticism prevails over brutal fury.

He proceeds: " He has a heavy hand at fools, and "a great felicity in writing nonsense for them. "Fools they will be in spite of him. His King, his "two Empresses, his Villain, and his Sub-villain, 66 nay his Hero, have all a certain natural cast of the "father their folly was born and bred in them, "and something of the Elkanah will be visible."

This is Dryden's general declamation; I will not withhold from the reader a particular remark. Having gone through the first act, he says, "To con"clue this act with the most rumbling piece of "nonsensespoken yet:

"To flattering lightning our feign'd smiles conform, "Which, back'd with thunder, do but gild a storm.

"Con

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Conform a smile to lightning, makea smile imitate lightning, and flattering lightning: lightning sure " is a threatening thing. And this lightning must gild a storm. Now, if I must conform by smiles to lightning, then my smiles must gild a storm too: "to gild with smiles, is a new invention of gilding. "And gild a storm by being backed with thunder. "Thunder is part of the storm; so one part of the "storm must help to gild another part, and help by "backing; as if a man would gild a thing the better " for being backed, or having a load upon his back. "So that here is gilding by conforming, smiling, "lightning, backing, and thundering. The whole " is as if I should say thus: I will make my counterfeit "smiles look like a flattering stone-horse, which, be"ing backed with a trooper, does but gild the battle. "I am mistaken if nonsense is not here pretty thick "sown. Sure the poet writ these two lines a-board "some smack in a storm, and, being sea-sick, spewed "up a good lump of clotted nonsense at once."

*

Here is perhaps a sufficient specimen; but as the pamphlet, though Dryden's, has never been thought worthy of republication, and is not easily to be found, it may gratify curiosity to quote it more largely :

Whene'er she bleeds,

He no severer a damnation needs,

That dares pronounce the sentence of her death,
Than the infection that attends that breath.

"That attends that breath.The poet is at breath "again; breath can never 'scape him; and here he

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brings in a breath that must be infectious with pro

"nouncing

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"nouncing a sentence; and this sentence is not to be pronounced till the condemned party bleeds; that "is, she must be executed first, and sentenced af

ter; and the pronouncing of this sentence will be "infectious; that is, others will catch the disease of "that sentence, and this infecting of others will tor"ment a man's self. The whole is thus; when she "bleeds, thou needest no greater hell or torment to

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thyself, than infecting of others by pronouncing a "sentence upon her. What hodge-podge does he "make here! Never was Dutch grout such clogging, is thick, indigestible stuff. But this is but a taste to stay the stomach; we shall have a more plentiful "mess presently.

"Now to dish up the poet's broth, that I "mised:

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For when we're dead, and our freed souls enlarg'd,

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Of nature's grosser burden we 're discharg'd,

Then, gentle as a happy lover's sigh,

Like wand'ring meteors through the air we'll fly,
And in our airy walk, as subtle guests,

We'll steal into our cruel fathers' breasts,

There read their souls, and track each passion's sphere,
See how Revenge moves there, Ambition here;
And in their orbs view the dark characters
Of sieges, ruins, murders, blood, and wars.

We'll blot out all those hideous draughts, and write
Pure and white forms; then with a radiant light
Their breasts encircle, till their passions be

Gentle as nature in its infancy;

Till, soften'd by our charms, their furies cease,

And their revenge resolves into a peace..

Thus by our death their quarrel ends,

Whom living we made foes, dead we'll make friends.

"If this be not a very liberal mess, I will refer my"self to the stomach of any moderate guest. And "a rare mess it is, far excelling any Westminster "white-broth. It is a kind of giblet porridge, "made of the giblets of a couple of young geese, "stogged full of meteors, orbs, spheres, track, hi"deous draughts, dark characters, white forms, and "radiant lights, designed not only to please appe"tite, and indulge luxury, but it is also physical, being an approved medicine to purge choler; for "it is propounded, by Morena, as a receipt to cure "their fathers of their choleric humours; and, "were it written in characters as barbarous as the "words, might very well pass for a doctor's bill. "To conclude: it is porridge, 'tis a receipt, 'tis a

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pig with a pudding in the belly, 'tis I know not "what: for, certainly, never any one that pretended "to write sense had the impudence before to put "such stuff as this into the mouths of those that "were to speak it before an audience, whom he did "not take to be all fools; and after that to print it "too, and expose it to the examination of the world. "But let us see what we can make of this stuff:

For when we're dead, and our freed souls enlarg'd— "Here he tells us what it is to be dead; it is to have

our freed souls set free. Now, if to have a soul “set free, is to be dead; then to have a freed soul set free, is to have a dead man die.

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Then, gently as a happy lover's sigh

They two like one sigh, and that one sigh like "two wandering meteors,

Shall

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