the violence of the plague, which then raged in London; and he diverted himself with thinking on the theatres, as lovers do by ruminating on their absent mistresses:  He there justifies the method of writing plays in verse, but confesses that he has quitted the practice, because he found it troublesome and slow[2].  In the preface we are informed that the drift of this discourse was to vindicate the honour of the English writers from the censure of those who unjustly prefer the French to them.  Langbaine has injuriously treated Mr. Dryden, on account of his dramatic performances, and charges him as a licentious plagiary.  The truth is, our author as a dramatist is less eminent than in any other sphere of poetry; but, with all his faults, he is even in that respect the most eminent of his time.

The critics have remarked, that as to tragedy, he seldom touches the passions, but deals rather in pompous language, poetical flights, and descriptions; and too frequently makes his characters speak better than they have occasion, or ought to do, when their sphere in the drama is considered:  And it is peculiar to Dryden (says Mr. Addison) to make his personages, as wise, witty, elegant and polite as himself.  That he could not so intimately affect the tender passions, is certain, for we find no play of his, in which we are much disposed to weep; and we are so often inchanted with beautiful descriptions, and noble flights of fancy, that we forget the business of the play, and are only attentive to the poet, while the characters sleep.  Mr. Gildon observes in his laws of poetry, that when it was recommended to Mr. Dryden to turn his thoughts to a translation of Euripides, rather than of Homer, he confessed that he had no relish for that poet, who was a great master of tragic simplicity.  Mr. Gildon, further observes, as a confirmation that Dryden’s taste for tragedy was not of the genuine sort, that he constantly expressed great contempt for Otway, who is universally allowed to have succeeded very happily in affecting the tender passions:  Yet Mr. Dryden, in his preface to the translation of M. Du Fresnoy, speaks more favourably of Otway; and after mentioning these instances, Gildon ascribes this taste in Dryden, to his having read many French Romances.—­The truth is, if a poet would affect the heart, he must not exceed nature too much, nor colour too high; distressful circumstances, short speeches, and pathetic observations never fail to move infinitely beyond the highest rant, or long declamations in tragedy:  The simplicity of the drama was Otway’s peculiar excellence; a living poet observes, that from Otway to our own times,

  From bard to bard, the frigid caution crept,
  And declamation roar’d while passion slept.

Mr. Dryden seems to be sensible, that he was not born to write comedy; for, says he, ’I want that gaiety of humour which is required in it; my conversation is slow and dull, my humour saturnine and reserved.  In short, I am none of those who endeavour to break jests in company, and make repartees; so that those who decry my comedies, do me no injury, except it be in point of profit:  Reputation in them is the last thing to which I shall pretend[3].’