I II. PREFACE TO THE GREAT FAVOURITE, OR 1668 TO THE READER. CANNOT plead the usual excuse for publishing this trifle, which is commonly the Subject of most Prefaces, by charging it upon the importunity of friends, for, I confess, I was my selfe willing at the first desire of Mr. Herringman 5 to print it, not for any great opinion that I had entertain'd, but for the opinion that others were pleas'd to express: which being told me by some friends, I was concern'd to let the World judge what subject matter of offence was contain'd in it; some were pleas'd to believe little of it 10 mine but they are both obliging to me, though perhaps not intentionally; the last, by thinking there was any thing in it that was worth so ill design'd an Envy as to place it to another Author; the others, perhaps the best bred Informers, by continuing their displeasure towards 15 me, since I most gratefully acknowledge to have received some advantage in the opinion of the sober part of the World by the loss of theirs. For the Subject, I came accidentally to write upon it, for a Gentleman brought a Play to the Kings Company, 20 call'd The Duke of Lerma, and by them I was desir'd to peruse it and return my opinion whether I thought it fit for the Stage; after I had read it, I acquainted them that in my judgement it would not be of much use for such a design, since the contrivance scarce would merit the 25 name of a plot; and some of that, assisted by a disguise; and it ended abruptly: and on the Person of Philip the 3. there was fixt such a mean Character, and on the Daughter of the Duke of Lerma such a vitious one, that I cou'd not but judge it unfit to be presented by any that had a respect, not only of Princes, but indeed to either Man or Woman; and about that time, being to go into the Countrey, I was persuaded by Mr. Hart to make it my diversion there that so great a hint might not be lost, as the Duke of Lerma 5 saving himself in his last extremity by his unexpected disguise, which is as well in the true story as the old Play; and besides that and the Names, my altering the most part of the Characters, and the whole design, made me uncapable to use much more, though perhaps written 10 with higher Stile and Thoughts than I cou'd attain to. I intend not to trouble myself nor the World any more in such Subjects, but take my leave of these my too long acquaintances, since that little fancy and liberty I once enjoy'd is now fetter'd in business of more unpleasant 15 Natures; yet were I free to apply my thoughts as my own choice directed them, I should hardly again venter into the Civil Wars of Censures. Ubi-Nullos habitura Triumphos. In the next place, I must ingeniously confess that the 20 manner of Plays which now are in most esteem is beyond my pow'r to perform; nor do I condemn in the least any thing of what Nature soever that pleases, since nothing cou'd appear to me a ruder folly than to censure the satisfaction of others; I rather blame the unnecessary 25 understanding of some that have labour'd to give strict rules to things that are not Mathematical, and with such eagerness persuing their own seeming reasons that at last we are to apprehend such Argumentative Poets will grow as strict as Sancho Pancos Doctor was to our very 30 Appetites; for in the difference of Tragedy and Comedy, and of Fars it self, there can be no determination but by the Taste; nor in the manner of their Composure; and who ever wou'd endeavour to like or dislike by the Rules of others, he will be as unsuccessful as if he should try to be perswaded into a power of believing, not what he must, but what others direct him to believe. But I confess, 'tis not necessary for Poets to study strict 5 reason, since they are so us'd to a greater Latitude then is allow'd by that severe Inquisition, that they must infringe their own Jurisdiction to profess themselves oblig'd to argue well. I will not therefore pretend to say why I writ this Play, some Scenes in blank Verse, others in Rhime; 10 since I have no better a reason to give then Chance, which waited upon my present Fancy, and I expect no better a reason from any ingenious person then his Fancy for which he best relishes. I cannot therefore but beg leave of the Reader to take 15 a little notice of the great pains the Author of an Essay of Dramatick Poesie has taken to prove Rhime as natural in a serious Play, and more effectual then blank Verse: thus he states the question, but persues that which he calls Natural in a wrong Application; for 'tis not the question 20 whether Rhime or not Rhime be best or most Natural for a grave and serious Subject, but what is neerest the nature of that which it presents. Now, after all the endeavours of that ingenious Person, a Play will still be supposed to be a Composition of several Persons speaking ex tempore, 25 and 'tis as certain that good Verses are the hardest things that can be imagin'd to be so spoken; so that if any will be pleas'd to impose the rule of measuring things to be the best by being neerest Nature, it is granted, by consequence, that which is most remote from the thing supposed must 30 needs be most improper; and therefore I may justly say that both I and the question were equally mistaken, for I do own I had rather read good Verses then either blank Verse or Prose; and therefore the Author did himself injury, if he like Verse so well in Plays, to lay down rules 35 to raise Arguments only unanswerable against himself. But the same Author, being fill'd with the presidents of the Antients writing their Plays in Verse, commends the thing, and assures us that our Language is Noble, Full, and Significant, charging all defects upon the ill placing of words, and proves it by quoting Seneca loftily expressing 5 such an ordinary thing as shutting a door : Reserate Clusos Regii postes Laris. I suppose he was himself highly affected with the sound of these words; but to have Compleated his Dictates together with his Arguments, he should have oblig'd us 10 by charming our Eares with such an Art of placing words, as in an English Verse to express so loftily the shutting of a Door, that we might have been as much affected with the sound of his words; this, in stead of being an argument upon the question rightly stated, is an attempt to prove 15 that nothing may seeme something by the help of a Verse, which I easily grant to be the ill-fortune of it; and therefore the question being so much mistaken, I wonder to see that Author trouble himself twice about it, with such an absolute triumph declared by his own imagination. But 20 I have heard that a Gentleman in Parliament going to speak twice, and being interrupted by another Member as against the Orders of the House, he was excused by a third assuring the House he had not yet spoken to the Question. But if we examine the general rules laid down for Playes 25 by strict Reason, we shall find the errors equally gross; for the great foundation that is laid to build upon is nothing, as it is generally stated, which will appear upon the examination of the particulars. First, We are told the Plot should not be so rediculously 30 contriv'd as to crowd two several Countries into one stage; secondly, to cramp the Accidents of many years or dayes into the representation of two houres and a halfe: And Lastly, a Conclusion drawn, that the only remaining dispute is concerning time, whether it should be contain'd in twelve or four and twenty hours, and the place to be limited to the spot of ground, either in Town or City, where the Play is suppos'd to begin: And this is call'd 5 neerest to Nature; For that is concluded most natural which is most probable and neerest to that which it presents. I am so well pleas'd with any ingenuous offers, as all these are, that I should not examine this strictly, did not Io the confidence of others force me to it,-there being not any thing more unreasonable to my Judgment then the attempt to infringe the Liberty of Opinion by Rules so little demonstrative. To shew therefore upon what ill grounds they dictate 15 Lawes for Dramatick Poesie, I shall endeavour to make it evident that there's no such thing as what they all pretend; for, if strictly and duely weigh'd, 'tis as impossible for one stage to present two Houses or two Roomes truely as two Countreys or Kingdomes, and as impossible that 20 five houres, or four and twenty houres should be two houres and a halfe as that a thousand houres or yeares should be less then what they are, or the greatest part of time to be comprehended in the less; for all being impossible, they are none of them nearest the truth or 25 nature of what they present, for Impossibilities are all equal, and admit no degrees; and then if all those Poets that have so fervently labour'd to give Rules as Maximes would but be pleased to abreviate, or endure to hear their Reasons reduc't into one strict definition, it must be that 30 there are degrees in impossibilities, and that many things which are not possible may yet be more or less impossible, and from this proceed to give rules to observe the least absurdity in things which are not at all. I suppose I need not trouble the Reader with so im35 pertinent a delay to attempt a farther Confutation of such |