These blemishes, however, are entitled to some indulgence from the reader, when they occur in a work of real genius.  Those, who do not strive at excellence, will seldom fall into absurdity; as he, who is contented to walk, is little liable to stumble.

Notwithstanding the admirable disposition of the parts of this play, the gradual increase of the interest, and the strong impassioned language of the dialogue, the disagreeable nature of the plot forms an objection to its success upon a British stage.  Distress, which turns upon the involutions of unnatural or incestuous passion, carries with it something too disgusting for the sympathy of a refined age; whereas, in a simple state of society, the feelings require a more powerful stimulus; as we see the vulgar crowd round an object of real horror, with the same pleasure we reap from seeing it represented on a theatre.  Besides, in ancient times, in those of the Roman empire at least, such abominations really occurred, as sanctioned the story of OEdipus.  But the change of manners has introduced not only greater purity of moral feeling, but a sensibility, which retreats with abhorrence even from a fiction turning upon such circumstances.  Hence, Garrick, who well knew the taste of an English audience, renounced his intention of reviving the excellent old play of “King and no King;” and hence Massinger’s still more awful tragedy of “The Unnatural Combat,” has been justly deemed unfit for a modern stage.  Independent of this disgusting circumstance, it may be questioned Whether the horror of this tragedy is not too powerful for furnishing mere amusement?  It is said in the “Companion to the Playhouse,” that when the piece was performing at Dublin, a musician, in the orchestra, was so powerfully affected by the madness of OEdipus, as to become himself actually delirious:  and though this may be exaggerated, it is certain, that, when the play was revived about thirty years ago, the audience were unable to support it to an end; the boxes being all emptied before the third act was concluded.  Among all our English plays, there is none more determinedly bloody than “OEdipus,” in its progress and conclusion.  The entrance of the unfortunate king, with his eyes torn from their sockets, is too disgusting for representation[3].  Of all the persons of the drama, scarce one survives the fifth act.  OEdipus dashes out his brains, Jocasta stabs herself, their children are strangled, Creon kills Eurydice, Adrastus kills Creon, and the insurgents kill Adrastus; when we add to this, that the conspirators are hanged, the reader will perceive, that the play, which began with a pestilence, concludes with a massacre,

  And darkness is the burier of the dead.