“‘For this reason,’ says ARISTOTLE, ’’tis best, to write Tragedy in that kind of Verse, which is the least such, or which is nearest Prose’:  and this, among the Ancients, was the Iambic; and with us, is Blank Verse, or the Measure of Verse kept exactly, without rhyme.  These numbers, therefore, are fittest for a Play:  the others [i.e., Rhymed Verse] for a paper of Verses, or a Poem [p. 566].  Blank Verse being as much below them, as Rhyme is improper for the Drama:  and, if it be objected that neither are Blank Verses made ex tempore; yet, as nearest Nature, they are still to be preferred.

“But there are two particular exceptions [objections], which many, beside myself, have had to Verse [i.e., in rhyme]; by which it will appear yet more plainly, how improper it is in Plays.  And the first of them is grounded upon that very reason, for which some have commended Rhyme.  They say, ’The quickness of Repartees in argumentative scenes, receives an ornament from Verse [pp. 492, 498].’  Now, what is more unreasonable than to imagine that a man should not only light upon the Wit, but the Rhyme too; upon the sudden?  This nicking of him, who spoke before, both in Sound and Measure, is so great a happiness [felicity], that you must, at least, suppose the persons of your Play to be poets, Arcades omnes et cantare pares et respondere parati.  They must have arrived to the degree of quicquid conabar dicere, to make verses, almost whether they will or not.

“If they are anything below this, it will look rather like the design of two, than the answer of one.  It will appear that your Actors hold intelligence together; that they perform their tricks, like fortune tellers, by confederacy.  The hand of Art will be too visible in it, against that maxim of all professions, Ars est celare artem; ’that it is the greatest perfection of Art, to keep itself undiscovered.’

“Nor will it serve you to object, that however you manage it, ’tis still known to be a Play; and consequently the dialogue of two persons, understood to be the labour of one Poet.  For a Play is still an Imitation of Nature.  We know we are to be deceived, and we desire to be so; but no man ever was deceived, but with a probability of Truth; for who will suffer a gross lie to be fastened upon him?  Thus, we sufficiently understand that the scenes [i.e., the scenery which was just now coming into use on the English Stage], which represent cities and countries to us, are not really such, but only painted on boards and canvas.  But shall that excuse the ill painture [painting] or designment of them?  Nay rather, ought they not to be laboured with so much the more diligence and exactness, to help the Imagination? since the Mind of Man doth naturally bend to, and seek after Truth; and therefore the nearer anything comes to the Imitation of it, the more it pleases.