_Nib._ Nay prithee now, Tim[7] Trifle, what do you understand by the word Suspicion? _Trif._ Dear Nick, every Mortal knows what Suspicion means; Suspicion comes from Suspicio, that is when any Person suspects another. _Nib._ Well I won't dispute your Definition but upon my Honour I think it should have been the Jealous Husband. _Trif._ He, he, lud, Nibble, that would have been the most absurd Title in the Creation. Well Nick, have you anything else in the Play to find fault with? _Nib._ Yes, I think Ranger's Dress is another egregious Fault in it. _Trif._ His Dress a Fault in the Play? _Nib._ Ay, and intolerable one. _Trif._ Nay don't say that, Nick--because if you do I must laugh at you. Why all the World admires his Dress. _That is thought one of the best things in the Play._ _Nib._ Well now I will mention a Criticism which I defy the warmest of Words to defend. _Trif._ Well, prithee what's that, Nibble? _Nib._ Why you know Ranger's hat is laced; that I think you must allow; that is obvious to everybody. _Trif._ Well, well, granted, my dear Nibble, it is laced. _Nib._ Why then I aver by all the Rules of Criticism to make the improbability out of imposing upon Mr. Strickland, that Jacyntha's Hat ought to be laced too, and by all that is absurd it is a plain one. _Trif._ Well come, there is something in that; that is a Fault I must confess, that is a Fault by gad. _Nib._ O an unpardonable one; I assure you Jack Wagwit and a parcel of us was going to hiss the whole Scene upon that Account. _Trif._ No, no, that would have been cruel; you know Homer himself sometimes nodded. Don't take any Notice of it to anybody, and it shall be altered tomorrow Night. I'll speak to the Author about it--O here's my Lady and Mr. Canker--now for a thorough Criticism upon it. (_Enter Lady_ CRITICK, CANKER, HEARTLY, HARRIET _and Sir_ PATRICK) _Lady._ Well, I protest Mr. Canker, I am surprized at your Judgment. You will certainly be laughed at by all the Polite part of the World. _Cank._ Madam, I hold the Vulgar in as much Contempt as I do the Rabble in the Shilling Gallery; both Herds are ignorant, and praise and condemn, or censure or applau[d], not from a Judgment in the Art, which should be the Director, but from the ignorant Dictates of Nature: mere Affection, like Moliere's old Woman. _Heart._ Well, for my Part, I shall always prefer the irregular Genius who from mere Affection compels me to laugh or cry, to the regular Blockhead who makes me sleep according to Rule. _Cank._ Have a Care, Mr. Heartly, none but the Ignorant ever despised Rules. _Heart._ Nor none but the ill natured or the envious ever judged by the Extremity of Rules. And the laws of Criticism like the Penal Laws should be explained in a favourable Sense lest the Critick like the Judge should be suspected of Cruelty or Malice against the Criminal.