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For tho in many things they grosly fail,
Over our passions still they so prevail,
That our own Grief by theirs is rock'd asleep,
The Dull are forc'd to feel, the wise to weep.
Their Beauties imitate, avoid their Faults;
First on a Plot employ thy careful Thoughts:
Turn it with time a thousand several ways,
This oft alone has given success to Plays:
Reject that vulgar Error which appears
So fair, of making perfect Characters;
There's no such thing in Nature, and you'll draw
A faultless Monster, which the World ne'er saw:
Some Faults must be that his Misfortunes drew,
But such as may deserve Compassion too.
Besides the main Design composed with Art,
Each moving Scence must be a Plot a part:
Contrive each little turn, mark every place,
As Painters first chalk out the future Face:
Yet be not fondly your own Slave for this,
But change hereafter what appears amiss.
Think not so much where shining thoughts to place,
As what a Man would say in such a Case.
Neither in Comedy will this suffice,
The Player too must be before your Eyes,
And tho 'tis Drudgery to stoop so low,
To him you must your utmost meaning show.
