tural irregularities in our dramatic pieces as are ſhocking to all other nations; even a Swiſs has played the critic upon us, without conſidering they are as little approved by the judicious in our own. A ſtranger who is ignorant of the language, and incapable of judging of the ſentiments, condemns by the eye, and concludes when he hears to be as extravagant as what he ſees. When Oedipus breaks his neck out of a balcony, and Jocaſta appears in her bed murdering herſelf and her children, inſtead of moving terror or compaſſion, ſuch ſpectacles only fill the ſpectator with horror: no wonder if ſtrangers are ſhocked at ſuch ſights, and conclude us a nation hardly yet civilized, than can ſeem to delight in them. To remove this reproach, it is much to be wiſhed our ſcenes were leſs bloody, and the ſword and dagger more out of faſhion. To make ſome amends for this excluſion, I would be leſs ſevere as to the rigour of ſome other laws enacted by the maſters, though it is always adviſable to keep as cloſe to them as poſſible: but reformations are not to be brought about all at once.
It may happen that the nature of certain ſubjects proper for moving the paſſions may require a little more latitude, and then, without offence to the critics, ſure there may be room for a ſaving in equity from the ſeverity of the common law of Parnaſſus as well as of the King’s Bench. To ſacrifice a principal beauty, upon which the ſucceſs of the whole may de-
