University of Virginia Library

In the first six lines of this tragedy, our author seems to have had his eye on the beginning of the 3d act of Cato, viz.

Which lines, tho' extremely beautiful, are far short of the sublimity of our author.

Instead of thanking his stars, which is the hackney'd phrase of every mechanic, and nature pointing out, he puts into Bubkramo's mouth,

which undoubtedly is more pompous and sublime. Not to mention any thing of white moments, informing instinct plucking a soul by the sleeve, and other beauties in this passage; it will be sufficiently apparent to a reader of even ordinary sagacity, how much our author has improved on Mr. Addison.

The beauty, elegance, and the propriety of this, and the following simile, are scarce to be equalled in any language. Dr. Humbug.

A punning critick of my acquaintance, to whom I lately shew'd this tragedy, made the following remark; Tripe is partly deriv'd from guts; wherefore your Italian friend hath given the world a proof he had some guts in his brains, when he hit upon this simile.

A figure of such universal use among tragic writers, that if I were to give all the examples, which have occur'd to me in the perusal of English tragedy, they would make as large a folio, as any of the ancient fathers. Dr. Humbug.

Two games well known to gamblers—The reader may observe, in this definition, that I have imitated the manner of the ingenious N. Bailey, Philologos. A specimen of this judicious author's abilities may be seen in his explication of the word thunder, which he defines, “A noise known by persons not deaf.”

I cannot, in this place, forbear taking notice of the negligence of our dictionary-mongers, in omitting the explanation of the word INTIRE; or, as it is frequently written, ENTIRE, in the sense I have now used it. I am persuaded they cannot plead the obsoleteness of the word, since there are so many signal instances of the use and propriety of it, in and about this metropolis. For want of such previous explanation, I am not ashamed to own, that I was led into a very great error in regard to the true meaning of the word, when I first came to London. On seeing Parsons Intire at the bottom of a sign, I took it for a laconic advertisement; That intire or finish'd clergymen might be hired, or heard of at that place—This mistake of mine I have thought proper to mention, that the future publishers of dictionaries may not slip over the explanation of a word of such consequence.

A solemn conjuration to secrecy, and of equal importance to the secret about to be revealed—there are so many resemblances of this speech in our dramatic writers, that I hardly know from which of them our Italian hath borrow'd.

That no future critick may plume himself with the discovery of a blunder, I have thought proper to inform my readers, it was not the father's shade, but the father himself,

A very imperial, but foolish oath, reply'd the punning critick.

The simplicity, beauty, and propriety of this thought cannot be sufficiently admired. Some criticks may possibly disbelieve the story of the wand'ring Jew; but that does not at all affect our author in the choice of this image, since fiction, as well as fact, is allowable in poetry. Our Bard liv'd in a country where tradition had greater weight, than in this infidel island. But that our author may not be suppos'd to have taken this image from tradition only, I can assure the world I have seen several editions of the history of this remarkable traveller, and could produce a hundred gentlemen of veracity to attest the like; and as none of our criticks have yet shewn the falsity of such history, it is to me a sufficient proof that there was, is, and must be such a person as the wand'ring Jew.

A certain modern author hath intimated the image is too low for the dignity of tragedy, and advised the following alteration, viz.

but I would ask the judicious reader, whether, according to our present knowledge of the heavenly bodies, it would not be downright nonsense to talk of the sun, moon, or stars seeing a form so fair. Several dramatic authors make no scruple of affirming these bodies are capable of vision, and among the rest the ingenious Mr. Rowe; who says,

but unless Mr. Rowe means the man in the moon, or the supposed inhabitants of the starry orbs seeing it, he must mean nothing at all.

Our author seems to have drawn this beautiful image from the French-English song of

This may be stiled, in Mr. Bayes's phrase, the poetical non ultra. Dr. Humbug.

This and the following line from Irene, a tragedy of the sublimest diction in the English language. Dr. Humbug.

David Garrick, Esq; an actor, and manager of the theatre in Drury Lane, in the 18th century. This great man, though not above five feet six inches in stature, was the most celebrated, and universal performer, that ever trod the British, or any other stage in the known world. In all his theatrical personations he was so exact a copyer of nature, that it was a proverb in his day, with the best judges of the stage, Nature and Garrick are the same.

This note, my readers are desired to remember, is made for the benefit of the lovers of drama, in the year two thousand and upwards. It would be an affront to the above gentleman's merit and universality, to add a note, to inform the world who, and what he is; or even to suppose that his memory would not outlive his theatrical performances, at least, a brace of centuries.

This may, at first sight, appear a kind of Tipperarian rhodomontade; but, according to the method of bringing about many modern marriages, I believe my readers will soon be convinc'd, that several young ladies have been drawn into the nuptial state in spite of their own inclinations: which is all our author means. Dr. Humbug.

A simile as simple, natural, and beautiful, as ever appear'd in the English language. Dr. Humbug.

A very common tragical expression—nay, I have known many dramatick heroes uttering such complaints, when they have been absolutely mad from their first speech in the play. An instance of this dramatic madness, may be found in a tragedy, which was publish'd by subscription in the present century. Dr. Humbug.

My friend, Mr. Rone, hath translated it soul; but I am of opinion it ought to be soal, as there is an antithesis of awl and end in the sequel of the line.

This, and the following air, were extracted from that inimitable musical dialogue, between Messieurs Flute and Trumpet in the same tragedy.

As our author hath borrowed so largely from the above tragedy, I would refer the reader to the opening of that play; which, if he apply to the bookselller for, let me advise him in the cautionary phrase of our modern advertisers, to be careful to ask for Hill's Merope.

For the benefit of my less learned readers, I must remark that street Grubæan signifies Grub-street.

Our heroine seems to be of the same opinion with Juliet, where she wishes for such a charioteer as Phaeton, &c. Dr. Humbug.

As just an observation as ever was made. Ibid.

A very common tragical phrase.

Probably in imitation of

This line, and following hemestic, from Merope.

Tear-touch'd, one of Aaron Hill's sublime epithets.