Language too artificial or too figurative for the gravity, dignity, or importance, of the occasion, may be put in a third class. * * * * * Chimene demanding justice against Rodrigue who killed her father, instead of a plain and pathetic expostulation, makes a speech stuffed with the most artificial flowers of rhetoric: Sire, mon pere est mort, mes yeux ont vû son sang Couler à gros bouillons de son généreux flanc; Ce sang qui tant de fois garantit vos murailles, Ce sang qui tant de fois vous gagna des batailles, Ce sang qui, tout sorti fume encore de courroux De se voir répandu pour d’autres que pour vous, Qu’au milieu des hazards n’osoit verser la guerre, Rodrigue en votre cour vient d’en couvrir la terre. J’ai couru sur le lieu sans force, et sans couleur; Je l’ai trouvé sans vie. Excusez ma douleur, Sire; la voix me manque à ce récit funeste, Mes pleurs et mes soupirs vous diront mieux le reste. And again: Son flanc etoit ouvert, et, pour mieux m’emouvoir, Son sang sur la poussiére écrivoit mon devoire; Ou plutôt sa valeur en cet état réduite Me parloit par sa plaie, et hâtoit ma pursuite, Et pour se faire entendre au plus juste des Rois, Par cette triste bouche elle empruntoit ma voix. _Act 2. sc. 9._ Nothing can be contrived in language more averse to the tone of the passion than this florid speech. I should imagine it more apt to provoke laughter than to inspire concern or pity. * * * * * In a fourth class shall be given specimens of language too light or airy for a severe passion. * * * * * The agony a mother must feel upon the savage murder of two hopeful sons, rejects all imagery and figurative expression, as discordant in the highest degree. Therefore the following passage is undoubtedly in a bad taste: _Queen._ Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes, My unblown flow’rs, new-appearing sweets! If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, And be not fixt in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings, And hear your mother’s lamentation. _Richard III. act 4. sc. 4._ Again, _K. Philip._ You are as fond of grief as of your child. _Constance._ Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garment with his form; Then have I reason to be fond of grief. _King John, act 3. sc. 6._ A thought that turns upon the expression instead of the subject, commonly called _a play of words_, being low and childish, is unworthy of any composition, whether gay or serious, that pretends to the smallest share of dignity. Thoughts of this kind make a fifth class. * * * * *