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quest I would give them an exact Account of the Stature, the Mien, the Aspect of the Prince who lately visited England, and has done such Wonders for the Liberty of Europe. It would puzzle the most Carious to form to himself the sort of Man my several Correspondents expect to hear of, by the Action mentioned when they defire a Description of him: There is always something that concerns themselves, and growing out of their own Circum tances, in all their Inquiries. A Friend of mine in Wales beseeches me to be very exact in my Account of that wonderful Man, who had marched an Army and all its Baggage over the Alps; and, if possible to learn whether the Peasant who shewed him the Way, and is drawn in the Map, be yet living. A Gentleman from the University, who is deeply intent on the Study of Humanity, desires me to be as particular, if I had Opportunity, in observing the whole Interview between his Highness and our late General. Thus do Mens Fancies work according to their several Educations and Circumstances ; but all pay a Respect, mixed with Admiration, to this il· lustrious Character. I have waited for his Arrival in Holland, before I would let my Correspondents know, that I have not been so uncurious a Spectator, as not to have seen Prince Eugene. It would be very difficult, as I said, juft now, to answer every Expectation of those who have writ to me on that Head; nor is it possible for me, to find Words to let one know what an artful Glance there is in his Countenance who surprised Cremona ; how daring he appears who forced the Trenches at Turin: But in general I can say, that he who beholds him, will · easily expect from him any thing that is to be imagined
or executed by the Wit or Force of Man. The Prince is of that Stature which makes a Man most easily become all Parts of Exercise, has Height to be graceful on Occafons of State and Ceremony, and no less adapted for Agility and Dispatch : his Aspect is erect and compos'd ; his Eye lively and thoughtful, yet rather vigilant than sparkling; his Action and Address the most ealy imaginable, and his Behaviour in an Assembly peculiarly grace. ful in a certain Art of mixing insensibly with the reft, and becoming one of the Company, instead of receiving the Courtship of it. The Shape of his Person, and Com
posure of his Limbs, are remarkably exact and beauti. ful. There is in his Look something sublime, which does not seem to arise from his Quality or Character, but the innate Disposition of his Mind. It is apparent that he suffers the Presence of much Company, instead of taking delight in it ; and he appeared in Publick while with us, rather to return Good-will, or satisfy Curiosity, than to gratify any Taste he himself had of being popu. lar. As his Thoughts are never tumultuous in Đanger, they are as little discomposed on Occasions of Pomp and Magnificence: A great Soul is affected in either Case, no further than in considering the properest Methods to extricate it self from them. If this Hero has the strong Incentives to uncommon Enterprizes that were remarka ble in Alexander, he prosecutes and enjoys the Fame of them, with the Justness, Propriety, and good Sense of Cæfar. It is easy to observe in him a Mind as capable of being entertained with Contemplation as Enterprize ; a Mind ready for great Exploits, but not impatient for Oecasions to exert it self. The Prince has Wisdom and Valour in as high Perfection as Man can enjoy it; which noble Faculties in Conjunction, banish all Vain-glory, Oftentation, Ambition, and all other Vices which might intrude upon his Mind to make it unequal. These Ha. bits and Qualities of Soul and Body render this Personage so extraordinary, that he appears to have nothing in him but what every Man should have in him, the Exertion of his very felf, abstracted from the Circumstances in which Fortune has placed him. Thus were you to fee Prince Eugene, and were told he was a private Gentleman, you would say he is a Man of Modesty and Merit: Should you be told That was Prince Eugene, he would be diminished no otherwise, than that Part of your diftant Admiration would turn into familiar Good-will. This I thought fit to entertain my Reader with, concerning an Hero who never was equalled but by one Man; over whom also he has this Advantage, that he has had an Opportunity to manifeft an Efeem for him in his Adversity,
Tuesday, April 1. .
Revocate animos, mæftumque timorem Mittite
I TAVING, to oblige my Correspondent Physibulus,
printed his Letter last Friday, in relation to the
new Epilogue, he cannot take it amiss, if I now publish another, which I have just received from a Gentleman who does not agree with him in his Sentiments upon that Matter.
SIR, " I Am amazed to find an Epilogue attacked in your last • I Friday's Paper, which has been so generally ap• plauded by the Town, and received such Honours as • were never before given to any in an English Theatre.
"THE Audience would not permit Mrs. Oldfield to • go off the Stage the first Night, till she had repeated it . twice; the second Night the Noise of Ancora's was as • loud as before, and she was again obliged to speak it . twice: the third Night it was called for a second time; ' and, in short, contrary to all other Epilogues, which ' are dropt after the third Representation of the Play, & this has already been repeated nine times.
• I must own I am the more surprized to find this • Censure in opposition to the whole Town, in a Paper ' which has hitherto been famous for the Candour of its • Criticisms.
'I can by no means allow your melancholy Corre• spondent, that the new Epilogue is unnatural because ' it is gay. If I had a mind to be learned, I could tell • him that the Prologue and Epilogue were real Parts of • the ancient Tragedy ; but every one knows that on the • British Stage they are distinct Performances by them• selves, Pieces intirely detached from the Play, and no way essential to it.
THE «THE moment the Play ends, Mrs. Oldfield is no « more Andromache, but Mrs. Oldfield; and tho' the Poet • had left Andromache fione-dead upon the Stage, as your « ingenious Correspondent phrases it, Mrs. Oldfield might
still have spoke a merry Epilogue. We have an In• stance of this in a Tragedy where there is not only a
Death but a Martyrdom. St. Catharine was there per• sonated by Nell Gwin; she lies stone-dead upon the Stage, 6 but upon those Gentlemens offering to remove her Body « whose Business it is to carry off the Slain in our English • Tragedies, the breaks out into that abrupt Beginning. < of what was a very ludicrous, but at the same time
thought a very good Epilogue.
« THIS diverting Manner was always pra&tised by * Mr. Dryder, who, if he was not the best Writer of
Tragedies in his Time, was allow'd by every one to • have the happiest Turn for a Prologue or an Epilogue. • The Epilogues to Cleomenes, Don Sebastian, The Duke * of Guise, Aurengzebe, and Love Triumphant, are all « Precedents of this Nature.
• I might further justify this Practice by that excellent • Epilogue which was spoken a few Years fince, after • the Tragedy of Phaedra and Hippolitus ; with a great • many others, in which the Authors have endeavoured to • make the Audience merry. If they have not all suc• ceeded so.well as the Writer of this, they have however • shewn that it was not for want of Good-will.
• I must further observe, that the Gaiety of it may be • still the more proper, as it is at the End of a French • Play ; since every one knows that Nation, who are ge• nerally esteemed to have as polite a Taste as any in Ěu• rope, always close their Tragick Entertainments with
what they call a Petite Piece, which is purposely de* fign'd to raise Mirth, and send away the Audience well• pleased. The same Person who has supported the chief • Character in the Tragedy, very often plays the princispal Part in the Petite Piece ; so that I have my self seen • at Paris, Orefles and Lubin acted the fame Night by • the same Man.
TRAGI-COMEDY, indeed, you have your • felf in a former Speculation found fault with very justly, « because it breaks the Tide of the Passions while they « are yet flowing; but this is nothing at all to the present • Cafe, where they have already had their full Course.
As the new Epilogue is written conformable to the « Practice of our best Poets, so it is not such an one « which, as the Duke of Buckingham fays in his Re• hearfal, might serve for any other Play, but wholly
rises out of the Occurrences of the Piece it was coms posed for.
* THE only Reason your mournful Correspondent • gives against this Facetious Epilogue, as he calls it, is, o that he has a mind to go home melancholy. I wish the • Gentleman may not be more gravé than wise. For my « own part, I must confefs I think it very sufficient to • have the Anguish of a fictitious Piece remain upon me ' while it is representing, but I love to be sent home to • bed in a good Humour. If Phyfibulus is however re
solv'd to be inconsolable, and not to have his Tears • dried up, he need only continue his old Custom, and ! when he has had his half Crown's worth of Sorrow, • link out before the Epilogue begins..
• IT is pleasant enough to hear this Tragical Genius • complaining of the great Mischief Andromache had • done him: What was that? Why, she made him laugh, • The poor Gentleman's Sufferings put me in mind of • Harlequin's Case, who was tickled to death. He tells us • soon after, thro' a small Mistake of Sorrow for Rage, • that during the whole Action he was so very sorry, that • he thinks he could have attack'd half a score of the • fierceji Mohocks in the Excess of his Grief. I cannot but • look upon it as an happy Accident, that a Man who is • fo bloody-minded in his Afiction, was diverted from • this Fit of outrageous Melancholy. The Valour of this • Gentleman in his Distress brings to one's Memory the • Knight of the forrowful Countenance, who lays about • him at such an unmerciful rate in an old Romance. I • shall readily grant him that his Soul, as he himselfsays, • would have made a very ridiculous Figure, had it quitted • the Body, and descended to the Poetical Shades, in such • an Encounter.