Thespis was first, who, all besmeared with lee, Began this pleasure for posterity: And with his carted actors, and a song, Amused the people as he passed along. Next Æschylus the different persons placed, And with a better mask his players graced: Upon a theatre his verse expressed, And showed his hero with a buskin dressed. Then Sophocles, the genius of his age, Encreased the pomp and beauty of the stage, Engaged the chorus song in every part, And polished rugged verse by rules of art: He in the Greek did those perfections gain, Which the weak Latin never could attain. Our pious fathers, in their priest-rid age, As impious and prophane, abhorred the stage: A troop of silly pilgrims, as 'tis said, Foolishly zealous, scandalously played, Instead of heroes, and of love's complaints, The angels, God, the Virgin, and the saints.[71] At last, right reason did his laws reveal, And showed the folly of their ill-placed zeal, Silenced those nonconformists of the age, And raised the lawful heroes of the stage: Only the Athenian mask was laid aside, And chorus by the music was supplied. Ingenious love, inventive in new arts, Mingled in plays, and quickly touched our hearts: This passion never could resistance find, But knows the shortest passage to the mind. Paint then, I'm pleased my hero be in love; But let him not like a tame shepherd move; Let not Achilles be like Thyrsis seen, Or for a Cyrus show an Artamen;[72] That struggling oft, his passions we may find, The frailty, not the virtue of his mind. Of romance heroes shun the low design; Yet to great hearts some human frailties join: Achilles must with Homer's heat engage; For an affront I'm pleased to see him rage. Those little failings in your hero's heart Show that of man and nature he has part. To leave known rules you cannot be allowed; Make Agamemnon covetous and proud, Æneas in religious rites austere. Keep to each man his proper character. Of countries and of times the humours know; From different climates different customs grow: And strive to shun their fault, who vainly dress An antique hero like some modern ass; Who make old Romans like our English move, Show Cato sparkish, or make Brutus love. In a romance those errors are excused: There 'tis enough that, reading, we're amused: Rules too severe would there be useless found; But the strict scene must have a juster bound; Exact decorum we must always find. If then you form some hero in your mind, Be sure your image with itself agree; For what he first appears, he still must be. Affected wits will naturally incline To paint their figures by their own design; Your bully poets, bully heroes write; } Chapman in Bussy D'Ambois[73] took delight, }