Of the diction, Dr Johnson has said, with meagre commendation, that it has “some sentiments which leave a strong impression,” and “others of excellence, universally acknowledged.”  This, even when the admiration of the scene betwixt Dorax and Sebastian has been sanctioned by that great critic, seems scanty applause for the chef d’oeuvre of Dryden’s dramatic works.  The reader will be disposed to look for more unqualified praise, when such a poet was induced, by every pressing consideration, to combine, in one effort, the powers of his mighty genius, and the fruits of his long theatrical experience:  Accordingly, Shakespeare laid aside, it will be perhaps difficult to point out a play containing more animatory incident, impassioned language, and beautiful description, than “Don Sebastian.”  Of the former, the scene betwixt Dorax and the king, had it been the only one ever Dryden wrote, would have been sufficient to insure his immortality.  There is not,—­no, perhaps, not even in Shakespeare,—­an instance where the chord, which the poet designed should vibrate, is more happily struck; strains there are of a higher mood, but not more correctly true; in evidence of which, we have known those, whom distresses of a gentler nature were unable to move, feel their stubborn feelings roused and melted by the injured pride and deep repentance of Dorax.  The burst of anguish with which he answers the stern taunt of Sebastian, is one of those rare, but natural instances, in which high-toned passion assumes a figurative language, because all that is familiar seems inadequate to express its feelings: 

Dor. Thou hast dared To tell me, what I durst not tell myself:  I durst not think that I was spurned, and live; And live to hear it boasted to my face.  All my long avarice of honour lost, Heaped up in youth, and hoarded up for age!  Has honour’s fountain then sucked back the stream?  He has; and hooting boys may dry-shod pass, And gather pebbles from the naked ford.  Give me my love, my honour; give them back—­ Give me revenge, while I have breath to ask it!

But I will not dwell on the beauties of this scene.  If any one is incapable of relishing it, he may safely conclude, that nature has not merely denied him that rare gift, poetical taste, but common powers of comprehending the ordinary feelings of humanity.  The love scene, betwixt Sebastian and Almeyda, is more purely conceived, and expressed with more reference to sentiment, than is common with our author.  The description which Dorax gives of Sebastian, before his appearance, coming from a mortal enemy, at least from one whose altered love was as envenomed as hatred, is a grand preparation for the appearance of the hero.  In many of the slighter descriptive passages, we recognize the poet by those minute touches, which a mind susceptible of poetic feeling is alone capable of bringing out.  The approach of the emperor, while the conspirators are caballing, is announced by Orchan, with these picturesque circumstances: