in common conversation, without the least thought of sneering either; and, indeed, if every quotation from Shakspeare, thus jocularly applied, is a real sneer upon him, then all burlesque sublime is a sneer upon the real sublime, and Beaumont sneered himself as well as Shakspeare.

From these three short specimens, the reader will form, we hope, a just idea of the three styles used in our authors' comedies, the sublime, the droll poetic, and the burlesque sublime. There is indeed a small mixture of prose, which is the only part of our old dramatic poets' style that moderns have vouchsafed to imitate. Did they acknowledge the truth, and confess their inability to rise to the spirit, vigour, and dignity of the other styles, they were pardonable. But far from it; our reformed taste calls for prose only; and before Beaumont and Fletcher's plays can be endured by such attic ears, they must be corrected into prose, as if, because well-brewed porter is a wholesome draught, therefore claret and burgundy must be dashed with porter before they were drinkable. For a true specimen of our modern taste, we will give the reader one cup of our authors' wine thus porterised, and that by one who perfectly knew the palate of the age, who pleased it greatly in this very instance, and some of whose comedies have as much or more merit than any moderns, except Congreve. Mr Cibber has consolidated two of our authors' plays, The Elder Brother, and The Custom of the Country, to form his Love makes a Man, or the Fop's Fortune. In the former there are two old French noblemen, Lewis and Brisac, the first proud of his family and fortune, the other of his magisterial power and dignity; neither men of learning, and therefore both preferring courtly accomplishments, and the knowledge of the world, to the deepest

knowledge of books, and the most extensive litera. ture. Such characters exclude not good sense in general, but in that part of their characters only where their foibles lie; (as Polonius in Hamlet is a fool in his pedantic foibles, and a man of sense in all other instances) accordingly Fletcher makes Brisac and Lewis thus treat of a marriage between their children :

"Bri. Good monsieur Lewis, I esteem myself
Much honour'd in your clear intent to join
Our ancient families, and make them one;
And 'twill take from my age and cares, to live
And see what you have purposed put in act;
Of which your visit at this present is

A hopeful omen; I each minute expecting
Th' arrival of my sons; I have not wrong'd
Their birth for want of means and education,
To shape them to that course each was addicted;
And therefore, that we may proceed discreetly,
Since what's concluded rashly seldom prospers,
You first shall take a strict perusal of them,
And then from your allowance, your fair daughter
May fashion her affection.

Lew. Monsieur Brisac,

You offer fair and nobly, and I'll meet you
In the same line of honour; and, I hope,
Being blest but with one daughter, I shall not
Appear impertinently curious,

Though with my utmost vigilance and study
I labour to bestow her to her worth:

Let others speak her form, and future fortune
From me descending to her, I in that
Sit down with silence.

Bri. You may, my lord, securely,

Since Fame aloud proclaimeth her perfections,
Commanding all men's tongues to sing her praises."

I quote not this as an instance of the sublime, but of our authors' genteel dialogue, enlivened by a few poetic figures, as, in the last lines, Fame is personized, and commands the tongues of men. Now let us see this dialogue modernized: the names

of the old gentlemen being changed to Antonio and Charino, they thus confer :

"Ant. Without compliment, my old friend, I shall think myself much honour'd in your alliance; our families are both ancient, our children young, and able to support 'em; and I think the sooner we set 'em to work the better.

Cha. Sir, you offer fair and nobly, and shall find I dare meet you in the same line of honour; and I hope, since I have but one girl in the world, you won't think me a troublesome old fool, if I endeavour to bestow her to her worth; therefore, if you please, before we shake hands, a word or two by the bye, for I have some considerable questions to ask you.

Ant. Ask 'em.

Cha. Well, in the first place, you say you have two sons?
Ant. Exactly.

Cha. And you are willing that one of 'em shall marry my daughter?

Ant. Willing.

Cha. My daughter Angelina?

Ant. Angelina.

Cha. And you are likewise content that the said Angelina shall survey 'em both, and, with my allowance, take to her law ful husband which of 'em she pleases?

Ant. Content.

Cha. And you farther promise, that the person by her, and me, so chosen, be it elder or younger, shall be your sole heir; that is to say, shall be in a conditional possession of at least three parts of your estate. You know the conditions, and this you positively promise?

Ant. To perform.

Cha. Why then, as the last token of my full consent and ap probation, I give you my hand.

Ant. There's mine.

Cha. Is't a match?

Ant. A match.

Cha. Done.

Ant. Done.

Cha. And done! -that's enough."

Strike out an expression or two of Fletcher's, and a couple of graziers would have put more sense into an ox bargain. I blame not the author; if a man's customers resolve to pay the price of champaign, and yet insist upon mild and stale, who

would refuse it them? This is only a specimen of the taste of the late wonderfully enlightened age. But as Shakspeare and Milton have already in a good measure dispersed the clouds of prejudice which had long obscured their excellencies, 'tis to be hoped that our eyes are now inured to bear the lustre of such poets who most resemble these suns of Britain. To such readers, therefore, who are desirous of becoming acquainted with the excellencies of Beaumont and Fletcher, I shall beg leave to recommend their plays to be read in the following order, beginning with which species they like best.

* Whimsical as this classing of our authors' plays must appear it is surely more whimsical that Mr Seward could not find a place in either class for those excellent comedies, The Mad Lover and The Humorous Lieutenant.-Ed. 1778.

The reader will find many excellent things in this last class, for the plays of our authors do not differ from each other near so much as those of Shakspeare. The three last tragedies are detruded so low on account of their magic and machinery, in which our authors fall shorter of Shakspeare than in any other of their attempts to imitate him. What is the reason of this? Is it that their genius, improved by literature and polite conversation, could well describe men and manners, but had not that poetic, that creative power, to form new beings and new worlds,

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