cept against them. I will only quote Mr. Dryden, and Mr. Milton, and fure thefe, whom he himself has with so much Juftice made English Claffics, will be admitted as undoubted Judges.

Mr. Dryden in his Preface to his Fables, the laft and perhaps the best of his Works, has thefe Words, Mr. Hobbs, I fay, begins the Praife of Homer, where he should have ended it. He tells us that the firft Beauty of an Epic Poem confifts in Diction, that is in the Choice of Words, and Harmony of Numbers; now the Words are the Colouring of the Work, which in the Order of Nature is the laft to be confider'd. The DESIGN, the DISPOSITION the Manners, and the Thoughts are all before it. Where any of thefe are wanting or imperfect, fo much it wants, and is imperfect in the Imitation of Human Life, which is the very Definition of a Poem. Words indeed like glaring Colours, are the firft Beauties that arife, and ftrike the Sight; but if the DRAUGHT be falfe or lame, the FIGURES ill difpos'd, the MANNERS obfcure or inconfiftent; or the Thoughts unnatural, the fineft Colours are but daubing, and the Piece is a beautifull Monster at beft.

Thus far Mr. Dryden, who plainly puts the Colouring in the last Place, and so does

not

not make it that which our Author does, that in which the Poet's Art does chiefly confift, nay he is fo far from placing it as the chief Aim and Art of the Poet, that he makes it by far the least considerable.

Let us now hear what Milton fays to this Purpose in his Difcourfe on Education to Mr. Hartlib. I mean not here (fays he) the Profody of a Verfe, (which is all that this Author's Art of English Poetry extends to) which they could not but have met with before among the RUDIMENTS of Grammar, but the fublime Art, which in Ariftotle's Poetics, Horace, and the Italian Commentaries of Caltelvetro, Taffo, Mazzoni and others, teaches what the Laws are of a true Epic Poem, what of a Dramatic, what of a Lyric: What Decorum, which is the grand Masterpiece to obferve. This would make them foon perceive what defpicable Creatures our common Rimers, and Play-Writers be; and show them what Religious, what Glorious and Magnificent Ufe might be made of Poetry, both in Divine and Human Things.

Our Opinions and Aims being fo very different, it is no wonder that we purfu'd different Methods. And this is fufficient to clear me from interfering with this Gentleman in his Undertaking.

If

If in the following. Book I have oppos'd any other Author, I hope I have always done it with good Manners, and no Man of Candour will take it amifs, that his Opinion if ill grounded be fairly confuted.

I hope the Candid Reader will excuse feveral Errors of the Press, and those of the Author, which may be imputed to the Writing this Book during a long Fit of Sickness. I need not tell the World, that by Crites I mean Mr. Dennis, his Excellence in Criticifm as well as Poetry being fo well known.

Among many Errors of the Prefs, I must take Notice of one, where Grotius is printed for Grævius.

CRITES,

Y

OUR Letters have of late been full of Com. plaints, that you can never find me at Home; and that you every Day miss me at our ufual Place of Rendezvous. I muft plead Guilty to the Indictment; the Fact is too evi dent against me: For I have been for fome time as much eftranged from my own Lodgings, as from our common Retreat, where we fo frequently, with no vulgar Pleasure, offer our moderate Libations to Bac chus, amidst our more plentiful Sacrifices to Apollo. But then I flatter myself with a Pardon from Crites, fince his allow'd Merit fecures him from Neglect, and his good Opinion of my Understanding will not permit him to think me fo unmindful of my own Improvement and Satisfaction, as wilfully to omit any Opportunity in my Power, of cultivating a Converfe with Crites, which every Man of Senfe endeavours to do out of Inclination and Self-Love rightly understood.

But that you may not look on this as a Compli ment of the Times, and a lame Excufe for what I want fufficient Reafons to justify; I, in this publick Manner, fend you a full Account of the Occafion of this my long Abfence; and the more willingly, be

caufe I fancy it has produc'd fomething worthy of your Confideration, and meritorious of your most candid Cenfure. I have, in this time, in the moft agreeable Goverfation in theWorld, run thro' the whole Syftem of Poetical Criticism, in a Manner that muft render the Obfervations and Rules of Poetry far more acceptable to the general Reader, than the Maxims of an Art, which, in their ufual dry, and jejune Dress, have been hitherto fo little relished by the Town. I know, your old Acquaintance, Mfr. Rapin, feems to confefs fome Warmth (not to call it Anger) that the Ladies in France have affum'd to themselves a Power and Authority of Deciding the Fate of Tragedy, in that Nation. But this Heat of his feems to be the Effect of his Sufpicion, that the French Ladies are not qualify'd Judges of a Performance of that high Nature, on which, perhaps, he wou'd only allow the fworn Judges of the polite Athenians fairly to determine. But, Crites, the Ladies I shall produce in the following Dialogues, are not fuch as generally fill the Boxes, and condemn and applaud meerly by Caprice, but fuch as are equal to the Caufe before them, and who appeal to Reason and Nature, in all their important Decifions; and fuch, I perfwade my felf, that Mfr. Rapin wou'd not think liable to his Refentments.

The familiar and intelligible Manner in which, by thefe Means, Criticism has, at laft, had the good Fortune to be treated, I am confident, will not be difagreeable to you, who confefs fo generous a Defire, that a good Judgment, and fine Tafte fhould spread among all those who will be meddling in Poetry, either as Readers, Hearers, or Performers.

You have often heard me fpeak of my Westminster Friend, with fuch Raptures as his Merits will always juftify in all those who have the Happiness to be admitted to a Freedom of Conversation with him, as you fhall your felf judge, now thofe troublesome Avocations of Bufinefs, which fo many Months ras vith'd