We cannot suppose that a man wrought up to fury, by the flame of jealousy, and a sense of afronted dignity, could be so particular in giving his son directions how to behave in hell, and to whom he should relate the story of his fate.  When any passion violently overwhelms the soul, the person who feels it, always speaks sententiously, avoids repetitions, and is not capable of much recollection, at least of making a minute detail of circumstances.  In how few words, and with greater force would Shakespear have conduced this speech of Theseus.  An example will prove it:  when Othello is informed that Cassio is slain, he replies,

  Had all his hairs been lives,
  My great revenge had stomach for them all.

When Phaedra is made acquainted with the ruin of Hyppolitus, the poet makes her utter the following beautiful speech, which, however, is liable to the same objection as the former, for it seems rather a studied declamation, than an expression of the most agonizing throes she is then supposed to experience.

  What’s life?  Oh all ye Gods! can life attone
  For all the monstrous crimes by which ’tis bought? 
  Or can I live? when thou, O Soul of honour! 
  O early hero! by my crimes art ruin’d. 
  Perhaps even now, the great unhappy youth,
  Falls by the sordid hands of butchering villains;
  Now, now he bleeds, he dies,—­O perjur’d traitor! 
  See his rich blood in purple torrents flows,
  And nature sallies in unbidden groans;
  Now mortal pangs distort his lovely form,
  His rosy beauties fade, his starry eyes
  Now darkling swim, and fix their closing beams;
  Now in short gasps his lab’ring spirit heaves,
  And weakly flutters on his falt’ring tongue,
  And struggles into sound.  Hear, monster hear,
  With his last breath, he curses purjured Phaedra: 
  He summons Phaedra to the bar of Minos;
  Thou too shalt there appear; to torture thee
  Whole Hell shall be employ’d, and suff’ring Phaedra
  Shall find some care to see thee still more wretched.

No man had a juster notion of the difficulty of composing, than Mr. Smith, and he sometimes would create greater difficulties than he had reason to apprehend.  Mr. Smith had, indeed, some defects in his conduct, which those are more apt to remember, who could imitate him in nothing else.  Amongst the blemishes of an innocent kind, which attended Mr. Smith, was his extreme carelessness in the particular of dress; this oddity procured him the name of Captain Ragg.  His person was so well formed, and he possessed so much natural gracefulness, that notwithstanding the disadvantage of his appearance, he was called, by the Ladies, the Handsome Sloven.

It is to be wondered at (says Mr. Oldisworth) that a man under poverty, calamities, and disappointments, could make so many friends, and those so truly valuable.  He had, indeed, a noble idea of the passion of friendship, in the success of which, consisted the greatest, if not the only happiness of his Life.  He was serene and chearful under the dispensations of providence; he avoided having any dealings with mankind in which he could not be just, and therefore refused to embrace some opportunities of amending his fortune.