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enemies　have　found　are　rather　cavils　concerning　little　and　not　essential　decencies；　which　a　master　of　the　ceremonies　may　decide　betwixt　us。　　The　French　poets；　I　confess；　are　strict　observers　of　these　punctilios：　　They　would　not；　for　example；　have　suffered　Cleopatra　and　Octavia　to　have　met；　or；　if　they　had　met；　there　must　have　only　passed　betwixt　them　some　cold　civilities；　but　no　eagerness　of　repartee；　for　fear　of　offending　against　the　greatness　of　their　characters；　and　the　modesty　of　their　sex。　　This　objection　I　foresaw；　and　at　the　same　time　contemned；　for　I　judged　it　both　natural　and　probable；　that　Octavia；　proud　of　her　new…gained　conquest；　would　search　out　Cleopatra　to　triumph　over　her；　and　that　Cleopatra；　thus　attacked；　was　not　of　a　spirit　to　shun　the　encounter：　　And　it　is　not　unlikely；　that　two　exasperated　rivals　should　use　such　satire　as　I　have　put　into　their　mouths；　for；　after　all；　though　the　one　were　a　Roman；　and　the　other　a　queen；　they　were　both　women。　　It　is　true；　some　actions；　though　natural；　are　not　fit　to　be　represented；　and　broad　obscenities　in　words　ought　in　good　manners　to　be　avoided：　　expressions　therefore　are　a　modest　clothing　of　our　thoughts；　as　breeches　and　petticoats　are　of　our　bodies。　　If　I　have　kept　myself　within　the　bounds　of　modesty；　all　beyond；　it　is　but　nicety　and　affectation；　which　is　no　more　but　modesty　depraved　into　a　vice。　　They　betray　themselves　who　are　too　quick　of　apprehension　in　such　cases；　and　leave　all　reasonable　men　to　imagine　worse　of　them；　than　of　the　poet。

Honest　Montaigne　goes　yet　further：　　Nous　ne　sommes　que　ceremonie；　la　ceremonie　nous　emporte；　et　laissons　la　substance　des　choses。　　Nous　nous　tenons　aux　branches；　et　abandonnons　le　tronc　et　le　corps。　　Nous　avons　appris　aux　dames　de　rougir；　oyans　seulement　nommer　ce　qu'elles　ne　craignent　aucunement　a　faire：　　Nous　n'osons　appeller　a　droit　nos　membres；　et　ne　craignons　pas　de　les　employer　a　toute　sorte　de　debauche。　　La　ceremonie　nous　defend　d'exprimer　par　paroles　les　choses　licites　et　naturelles；　et　nous　l'en　croyons；　la　raison　nous　defend　de　n'en　faire　point　d'illicites　et　mauvaises；　et　personne　ne　l'en　croit。　My　comfort　is；　that　by　this　opinion　my　enemies　are　but　sucking　critics；　who　would　fain　be　nibbling　ere　their　teeth　are　come。

Yet；　in　this　nicety　of　manners　does　the　excellency　of　French　poetry　consist。　　Their　heroes　are　the　most　civil　people　breathing；　but　their　good　breeding　seldom　extends　to　a　word　of　sense；　all　their　wit　is　in　their　ceremony；　they　want　the　genius　which　animates　our　stage；　and　therefore　it　is　but　necessary；　when　they　cannot　please；　that　they　should　take　care　not　to　offend。　　But　as　the　civilest　man　in　the　company　is　commonly　the　dullest；　so　these　authors；　while　they　are　afraid　to　make　you　laugh　or　cry；　out　of　pure　good　manners　make　you　sleep。　　They　are　so　careful　not　to　exasperate　a　critic；　that　they　never　leave　him　any　work；　so　busy　with　the　broom；　and　make　so　clean　a　riddance　that　there　is　little　left　either　for　censure　or　for　praise：　　For　no　part　of　a　poem　is　worth　our　discommending；　where　the　whole　is　insipid；　as　when　we　have　once　tasted　of　palled　wine；　we　stay　not　to　examine　it　glass　by　glass。　　But　while　they　affect　to　shine　in　trifles；　they　are　often　careless　in　essentials。　　Thus；　their　Hippolytus　is　so　scrupulous　in　point　of　decency；　that　he　will　rather　expose　himself　to　death；　than　accuse　his　stepmother　to　his　father；　and　my　critics　I　am　sure　will　commend　him　for　it。　　But　we　of　grosser　apprehensions　are　apt　to　think　that　this　excess　of　generosity　is　not　practicable；　but　with　fools　and　madmen。　　This　was　good　manners　with　a　vengeance；　and　the　audience　is　like　to　be　much　concerned　at　the　misfortunes　of　this　admirable　hero。　　But　take　Hippolytus　out　of　his　poetic　fit；　and　I　suppose　he　would　think　it　a　wiser　part　to　set　the　saddle　on　the　right　horse；　and　choose　rather　to　live　with　the　reputation　of　a　plain…spoken；　honest　man；　than　to　die　with　the　infamy　of　an　incestuous　villain。　　In　the　meantime　we　may　take　notice；　that　where　the　poet　ought　to　have　preserved　the　character　as　it　was　delivered　to　us　by　antiquity；　when　he　should　have　given　us　the　picture　of　a　rough　young　man；　of　the　Amazonian　strain；　a　jolly　huntsman；　and　both　by　his　profession　and　his　early　rising　a　mortal　enemy　to　love；　he　has　chosen　to　give　him　the　turn　of　gallantry；　sent　him　to　travel　from　Athens　to　Paris；　taught　him　to　make　love；　and　transformed　the　Hippolytus　of　Euripides　into　Monsieur　Hippolyte。　I　should　not　have　troubled　myself　thus　far　with　French　poets；　but　that　I　find　our　Chedreux　critics　wholly　form　their　judgments　by　them。　But　for　my　part；　I　desire　to　be　tried　by　the　laws　of　my　own　country；　for　it　seems　unjust　to　me；　that　the　French　should　prescribe　here；　till　they　have　conquered。　　Our　little　sonneteers；　who　follow　them；　have　too　narrow　souls　to　judge　of　poetry。　　Poets　themselves　are　the　most　proper；　though　I　conclude　not　the　only　critics。　　But　till　some　genius；　as　universal　as　Aristotle；　shall　arise；　one　who　can　penetrate　into　all　arts　and　sciences；　without　the　practice　of　them；　I　shall　think　it　reasonable；　that　the　judgment　of　an　artificer　in　his　own　art　should　be　preferable　to　the　opinion　of　another　man；　at　least　where　he　is　not　bribed　by　interest；　or　prejudiced　by　malice。　　And　this；　I　suppose；　is　manifest　by　plain　inductions：　　For；　first；　the　crowd　cannot　be　presumed　to　have　more　than　a　gross　instinct　of　what　pleases　or　displeases　them：　　Every　man　will　grant　me　this；　but　then；　by　a　particular　kindness　to　himself；　he　draws　his　own　stake　first；　and　will　be　distinguished　from　the　multitude；　of　which　other　men　may　think　him　one。　　But；　if　I　come　closer　to　those　who　are　allowed　for　witty　men；　either　by　the　advantage　of　their　quality；　or　by　common　fame；　and　affirm　that　neither　are　they　qualified　to　decide　sovereignly　concerning　poetry；　I　shall　yet　have　a　strong　party　of　my　opinion；　for　most　of　them　severally　will　exclude　the　rest；　either　from　the　number　of　witty　men；　or　at　least　of　able　judges。　　But　here　again　they　are　all　indulgent　to　themselves；　and　every　one　who　believes　himself　a　wit；　that　is；　every　man；　will　pretend　at　the　same　time　to　a　right　of　judging。　　But　to　press　it　yet　further；　there　are　many　witty　men；　but　few　poets；　neither　have　all　poets　a　taste　of　tragedy。　　And　this　is　the　rock　on　which　they　are　daily　splitting。　Poetry；　which　is　a　picture　of　nature；　must　generally　please；　but　it　is　not　to　be　understood　that　all　parts　of　it　must　please　every　man；　therefore　is　not　tragedy　to　be　judged　by　a　witty　man；　whose　taste　is　only　confined　to　comedy。　　Nor　is　every　man；　who　loves　tragedy；　a　sufficient　judge　of　it；　he　must　understand　the　excellences　of　it　too；　or　he　will　only　prove　a　blind　admirer；　not　a　critic。　　From　hence　it　comes　that　so　many　satires　on　poets；　and　censures　of　their　writings；　fly　abroad。　　Men　of　pleasant　conversation　（at　least　esteemed　so）；　and　endued　with　a　trifling　kind　of　fancy；　perhaps　helped　out　with　some　smattering　of　Latin；　are　ambitious　to　distinguish　themselves　from　the　herd　of　gentlemen；　by　their　poetry

　　　　　Rarus　enim　ferme　sensus　communis　in　illa　Fortuna。

And　is　not　this　a　wretched　affectation；　not　to　be　contented　with　what　fortune　has　done　for　them；　and　sit　down　quietly　with　their　estates；　but　they　must　call　their　wits　in　question；　and　needlessly　expose　their　nakedness　to　public　view？　　Not　considering　that　they　are　not　to　expect　the　same　approbation　from　sober　men；　which　they　have　found　from　their　flatterers　after　the　third　bottle。　　If　a　little　glittering　in　discourse　has　passed　them　on　us　for　witty　men；　where　was　the　necessity　of　undeceiving　the　world？　　Would　a　man　who　has　an　ill　title　to　an　estate；　but　yet　is　in　possession　of　it；　would　he　bring　it　of　his　own　accord；　to　be　tried　at　Westminster？　　We　who　write；　if　we　want　the　talent；　yet　have　the　excuse　that　we　do　it　for　a　poor　subsistence；　but　what　can　be　urged　in　their　defence；　who；　not　having　the　vocation　of　poverty　to　scribble；　out　of　mere　wantonness　take　pains　to　make　themselves　ridiculous？　　Horace　was　certainly　in　the　right；　where　he　said；　〃That　no　man　is　satisfied　with　his　own　condition。〃　A　poet　is　not　pleased；　because　he　is　not　rich；　and　the　rich　are　discontented；　because　the　poets　will　not　admit　them　of　their　number。　　Thus　the　case　is　hard　with　writers：　　If　they　succeed　not；　they　must　starve；　and　if　they　do；　some　malicious　satire　is　prepared　to　level　them；　for　daring　to　please　without　their　leave。　　But　while　they　are　so　eager　to　destroy　the　fame　of　others；　their　ambition　is　manifest　in　their　concernment；　some　poem　of　their　own　is　to　be　produced；　and　the　slaves　are　to　be　laid　flat　with　their　faces　on　the　ground；　that　the　monarch　may　appear　in　the　greater　majesty。

Dionysius　and　Nero　had　the　same　longings；　but　with　all　their　power　they　could　never　bring　their　business　well　about。　　'Tis　true；　they　proclaimed　themselves　poets　by　sound　of　trumpet；　and　poets　they　were；　upon　pain　of　death　to　any　man　who　durst　call　them　otherwise。　　The　audience　had　a　fine　time　on't；　you　may　imagine；　they　sat　in　a　bodily　fear；　and　looked　as　demurely　as　they　could：　　for　it　was　a　hanging　matter　to　laugh　unseasonably；　and　the　tyrants　were　suspicious；　as　they　had　reason；　that　their　subjects　had　them　in　the　wind；　so；　every　man；　in　his　own　defence；　set　as　good　a　face　upon　the　business　as　he　could。　　It　was　known　beforehand　that　the　monarchs　were　to　be　crowned　laureates；　but　when　the　show　was　over；　and　an　honest　man　was　suffered　to　depart　quietly；　he　took　out　his　laughter　which　he　had　stifled；　with　a　firm　resolution　never　more　to　see　an　emperor's　play；　though　he　had　been　ten　years　a…making　it。　　In　the　meantime　the　true　poets　were　they　who　made　the　best　markets：　　for　they　had　wit　enough　to　yield　the　prize　with　a　good　grace；　and　not　contend　with　him　who　had　thirty　legions。　　They　were　sure　to　be　rewarded；　if　they　confessed　themselves　bad　writers；　and　that　was　somewhat　better　than　to　be　martyrs　for　their　reputation。　　Lucan's　example　was　enough　to　teach　them　manners；　and　after　he　was　put　to　death；　for　overcoming　Nero；　the　emperor　carried　it　without　dispute　for　the　best　poet　in　his　dominions。　No　man　was　ambitious　of　that　grinning　honour；　for　if　he　heard　the　malicious　trumpeter　proclaiming　his　name　before　his　betters；　he　knew　there　was　but　one　way　with　him。　　Maecenas　took　another　course；　and