As an appendix to the foregoing rule, I add the following obfervation, That to make a fudden and, ftrong impreffion, fome fingle circumftance happily felected, has more power than the most laboured defcription. Macbeth, mentioning to his lady fome voices he heard while he was murdering the King, fays, There's one did laugh in fleep, and one cry'd Murder ! They wak'd each other; and I stood and heard them; But they did fay their prayers, and address them Again to fleep. Lady. There are two lodg'd together. Macbeth. One cry'd, God blefs us! and Amen the other; As they had feen me with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say Amen, When they did fay, God blefs us. Lady. Confider it not fo deeply. Macbeth. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen ? I had moit need of bleffing, and Amen Stuck in my throat. Lady. Thefe deeds must not be thought After these ways; fo it will make us mad. Macbeth. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murder fleep, &c. Act 2. Sc. 3. Alphonfo, in the Mourning Bride, thut up in the fame prifon where his father had been confined : In a dark corner of my cell I found This paper, what it is this light will show. If my Alphonfo". Ha! [Reading. "If my Alphonfo live, restore him, Heav'n; It is his hand; this was his pray'r-Yet more : Not for myself, but him, hear me all-gracious". [Reading. Heav'n fhould follow, But But 'tis torn off-Why fhould that word alone. But Heav'n was deaf, Heav'n heard him not; but thus, Thus as the name of Heav'n from this is torn, So did it tear the ears of mercy from His voice, fhutting the gates of pray'r against him. On high, and of good men the very best Mourning Bride, act 3. fc. 1. This incident is a happy invention, and a mark of uncommon genius. Defcribing Prince Henry : I faw young Harry, with his beaver on, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. First part, Henry IV. act 4. fc. 2. King Henry. Lord Cardinal, if thou think'ft on Heav en's blifs, Hold up thy hand, make fignal of thy hope. He dies, and makes no fign! Second part, Henry VI. at 3. fr. 1c. The fame author fpeaking ludicrously of an army debilitated with diseases, fays, Half of them dare not thake the fnow from off their caffocks, left they fhake themfelves to pieces. I have feen the walls of Balclutha, but they were defolate. The flames had refounded in the halls: and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was removed removed from its place by the fall of the walls. The thiftle fhook there its lonely head: the mofs whiftled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows: and the rank grafs of the wall waved round his head. Defolate is the dwelling of Morna: filence is in the houfe of her fathers. Fingal. To draw a character is the mafter-ftroke of defcription. In this Tacitus excels: his portraits are natural and lively, not a feature wanting nor misplaced. Shakespear, however, exceeds Tacitus in livelinefs, fome characteristical circumftance being generally invented or laid hold of, which paints more to the life than many words. The following inftances will explain my meaning, and at the fame time prove my obfervation to be just. Why should a man, whofe blood is warm within, Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice, Again: Merchant of Venice, a&t ș. fc. 2. Gratiano fpeaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice :. his reafons are two grains of wheat hid in two buthels of chaf; you fhall feek all day ere you' find them, and when you have them they are not worth the fearch Ibid. In the following paffage a character is completed by a fingle stroke. Shallow. O the mad days that I have fpent and to fee how many of mine old acquaintance are dead. Silence. We thall all follow, Coufin. Shallow. Certain, 'tis certain, very fure, very fure; Death (as the Pfalmift faith) is certain to all: all ihall die, How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? Slender. Truly, Coufin, I was not there. Shallow. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet? Silence. Dead, Sir. Shallow. Dead! fee, fee; he drew a good bow: and dead. He thot a fine fhoot. How a fcore of ewes now? Silence. Thereafter as they be. A fcore of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. Shallow: And is old Double dead? Second part, Henry IV. act 3, fc. 3. Defcribing a jealous husband; Neither prefs, coffer, cheft, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abftra&t for the remembrance of fuch places, and goes to them by his note. There is no hiding you in the house. Merry Wives of Windsor, act 4. fc. 3. Congreve has an inimitable ft roke of this kind in his comedy of Love for Love: Ben Legend. Well, father, and how do all at home? how does brother Dick, and brother Val? Sir Sampfon. Dick: body o' me, Dick has been dead these two years. I writ you word when you were at Leghorn. Ben. Mefs, that's true; marry, I had forgot. Dick's dead, as you fay. Act 3. Sc. 6. Falstaff speaking of ancient Pistol : He's no fwaggerer, hoftefs: a tame cheater i'faith; you may ftroak him as gently as a puppy-grey-hound; he will not not fwagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any fhew of resistance. Second Part, Henry IV. a&t 2. fc. 9. Offian, among his other excellencies, is eminently fuccefsful in drawing characters; and he never fails to delight his reader with the beautiful attitudes of his heroes. Take the following instances. O Ofcar! bend the ftrong in arm; but fpare the feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides against the foes of thy people; but like the gale that moves the grass to those who afk thine aid.-So Tremor lived; fuch Trathal was; and fuch has Fingal been. My arm was the support of the injured; and the weak retted behind the lightning of my fleet. We beard the voice of joy on the coaft, and we thought that the mighty Cathmore came. Cathmore the friend of ftrangers the brother of red-haired Cairbar. But their fouls were not the fame; for the light of heaven was in the bofom of Cathmore. His towers rofe on the banks of Atha: feven paths led to his halls: feven chiefs stood on thefe paths, and called the ftranger to the feaft. But Cathmore dwelt in the wood to avoid the voice of praise. Dermid and Ofcar were one: they reaped the battle together. Their friendship was ftrong as their steel; and death walked between them to the field. They ruth on the foe like two rocks falling from the brow of Ardven. Their fwords are ftained with the blood of the valiant : warriors faint at their name. Who is equal to Oscar but Dermid ? who to Dermid but Oscar ? Son of Comhai, replied the chief, the ftrength of Morni's arm has failed; I attempt to draw the fword of my youth, but it remains in its place: I throw the fpear, but it alls fhort of the mark; and I feel the weight of my thield. We decay like the grafs of the mountain, and our ftrength returns no more. I have a fon, O Fingal, his foul has delighted in the actions of Morni's youth; but his fword has not been fitted against the foe, neither has his fame |