But your vanity is preposterous. How will this
same bard of Bedlam ring the changes in the praise of Goldy! But what has
he to be either proud or vain of? The Traveler is a flimsy poem, built upon
false principles--principles diametrically opposite to liberty. What is The
Good-Natured Man but a poor, water-gruel dramatic dose? What is The
Deserted Village but a pretty poem of easy numbers, without fancy, dignity,
genius, or fire? And, pray, what may be the last _speaking pantomime_,
so praised by the doctor himself, but an incoherent piece of stuff, the
figure of a woman with a fish's tail, without plot, incident, or intrigue?
We are made to laugh at stale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry
for wit, and grimace for humor; wherein every scene is unnatural and
inconsistent with the rules, the laws of nature and of the drama; viz., two
gentlemen come to a man of fortune's house, eat, drink, etc., and take it
for an inn. The one is intended as a lover for the daughter; he talks with
her for some hours; and, when he sees her again in a different dress, he
treats her as a bar-girl, and swears she squinted. He abuses the master of
the house, and threatens to kick him out of his own doors.
Pages:
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396