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

Mr. Dryden in his Preface to his Fables, the last and perhaps the best of his Works, has these Words, - Mr. Hobbs, I fay, begins the Praise of Homer, where he should have ended it. He tells us that the first 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 last to be confider'd. The DESIGN, the DISPOSITION the Manners, and the Thoughts are all before it. Where any of these are wanting or imperfect, so 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 first Beauties that arife, and strike the Sight; but if the DRAUGHT be false or lame, the FIGURES ill dispos'd, the MANNERS obfcure or inconsistent; or the Thoughts unnatural, the finest Colours are but daubing, and the Piece is a beautifull Monster at best.

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

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

Let us now hear what Milton says to this Purpose in his Discourse on Education to Mr. Hartlib. I mean not here (says he) the Profody of a Verse, (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 Caftelvetro, 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 observe. This would make them soon perceive what despicable Creatures our common Rimers, and Play-Writers be; and show them what Religious, what Glorious and Magnificent Use might be made of Poetry, both in Divine and Human Things.

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

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 amiss, that his Opinion if ill grounded be fairly confuted.

I hope the Candid Reader will excuse several 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 Criticism as well as Poetry being fo well known.

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

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INTRODUCTION.

CRITES,

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

But that you may not look on this as a Compliment of the Times, and a lame Excuse for what I want fufficient Reasons to justify; I, in this publick Manner, fend you a full Account of the Occafion of this my long Absence; and the more willingly, becaufe

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cause I fancy it has produc'd something worthy of your Confideration, and meritorious of your most candid Cenfure. I have, in this time, in the most agreeable Coversation in the World, run thro' the whole System of Poetical Criticism, in a Manner that must render the Obfervations and Rules of Poetry far more acceptable to the general Reader, than the Maxims of an Art, which, in their usual dry, and jejune Dress, have been hitherto so little relished by the Town. I know, your old Acquaintance, Mfr. Rapin, seems to confefs fome Warmth (not to call it Anger) that the Ladies in France have affum'd to themselvesa Power and Authority of Deciding the Fate of Tragedy, in that Nation. But this Heat of his seems 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. Bur, Crites, the Ladies I shall produce in the following Dialogues, are not such as generally fill the Boxes, and condemn and applaud meerly by Caprice, but fuch as are equal to the Cause before them, and who appeal to Reason and Nature, in all their important Decifions; and such, I perfwade my felf, that Mfr. Rapın wou'd not think liable to his Resentments.

The familiar and intelligible Manner in which, by these Means, Criticisin has, at last, had the good Fortune to be treated, I am confident, will not be difagreeable to you, who confess so generous a Defire, that a good Judgment, and fine Taste should fpread among all those who will be meddling in Poetry, either as Readers, Hearers, or Performers.

You have often heard me speak of my Westminster Friend, with fuch Raptures as his Merits will always justify in all those who have the Happiness to be admitted to a Freedom of Conversation with him, as you thall your self judge, now those troublesome Avocations of Business, which so many Months ravith'd