has so particular a grace, and is so aptly suited to
them, that the sudden smartness of the answer, and
the sweetness of the rhyme, set off the beauty of
each other. But that benefit which I consider
most in it, because I have not seldom found it, is,
that it bounds and circumscribes the fancy. For
imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless,
that, like an high-ranging spaniel, it must have clogs
tied to it, lest it out-run the judgment. The
great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too
luxuriant; he is tempted to say many things, which
might better be omitted, or at least shut up in fewer
words; but when the difficulty of artful rhyming is
interposed, where the poet commonly confines his sense
to his couplet, and must contrive that sense into
such words, that the rhyme shall naturally follow
them, not they the rhyme; the fancy then gives leisure
to the judgment to come in, which, seeing so heavy
a tax imposed, is ready to cut off all unnecessary
expences. This last consideration has already
answered an objection which some have made, that rhyme
is only an embroidery of sense, to make that, which
is ordinary in itself, pass for excellent with less
examination. But certainly, that, which most regulates
the fancy, and gives the judgment its busiest employment,
is like to bring forth the richest and clearest thoughts.
The poet examines that most, which he produceth with
the greatest leisure, and which, he knows, must pass
the severest test of the audience, because they are
aptest to have it ever in their memory; as the stomach
makes the best concoction, when it strictly embraces
the nourishment, and takes account of every little
particle as it passes through. But, as the best
medicines may lose their virtue, by being ill applied,
so is it with verse, if a fit subject be not chosen
for it. Neither must the argument alone, but
the characters and persons, be great and noble; otherwise,
(as Scaliger says of Claudian) the poet will be ignobitiore
materia depressus. The scenes, which, in my
opinion, most commend it, are those of argumentation
and discourse, on the result of which the doing or
not doing some considerable action should depend.
But, my lord, though I have more to say upon this subject, yet I must remember, it is your lordship to whom I speak; who have much better commended this way by your writing in it, than I can do by writing for it. Where my reasons cannot prevail, I am sure your lordship’s example must. Your rhetoric has gained my cause; at least the greatest part of my design has already succeeded to my wish, which was to interest so noble a person in the quarrel, and withal to testify to the world how happy I esteem myself in the honour of being,
MY LORD,
Your Lordship’s most humble,
and most obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.