1448a 1 Since living persons ¹ are the objects of representation, these must necessarily be either good men or inferior—thus only are characters normally distinguished, since ethical differences depend upon vice and virtue—that is to say either better than ourselves or worse or much what we are. It is the same with painters.

Polygnotus depicted men as better than they are and Pauson worse, while Dionysius made likenesses. ²

Clearly each of the above mentioned arts will admit of these distinctions, and they will differ in representing objects which differ from each other in the way here described.

In painting too, and flute-playing and harp-playing, these diversities may certainly be found, and it is the same in prose and in unaccompanied verse.

For instance Homer’s people are better, Cleophon’s are like, while in Hegemon of Thasos , the first writer of parodies, and in Nicochares, the author of the Poltrooniad, they are worse. ³

It is the same in dithyrambic and nomic poetry, for instance . . . a writer might draw characters like the Cyclops as drawn by Timotheus and Philoxenus. ⁴

It is just in this respect that tragedy differs from comedy. The latter sets out to represent people as worse than they are to-day, the former as better.

Since the objects of imitation are men in action, and
these men must be either of a higher or a lower type (for
moral character mainly answers to these divisions,
goodness and badness being the distinguishing marks of
moral differences), it follows that we must represent men
either as better than in real life, or as worse, or as they
are.

It is the same in painting. Polygnotus depicted men as
nobler than they are, Pauson as less noble, Dionysius
drew them true to life.

Now it is evident that each of the modes of imitation
above mentioned will exhibit these differences, and
become a distinct kind in imitating objects that are thus
distinct.

Such diversities may be found even in dancing, flute-playing,
and lyre-playing.

So again in language, whether prose or verse
unaccompanied by music. Homer, for example, makes
men better than they are; Cleophon as they are;
Hegemon the Thasian, the inventor of parodies, and
Nicochares, the author of the Deiliad, worse than they
are.

The same thing holds good of Dithyrambs and Nomes;
here too one may portray different types, as Timotheus
and Philoxenus differed in representing their Cyclopes.

The same distinction marks off Tragedy from Comedy;
for Comedy aims at representing men as worse, Tragedy
as better than in actual life.

The objects the imitator represents are actions, with
agents who are necessarily either good men or bad—the
diversities of human character being nearly always derivative
from this primary distinction, since the line between virtue
and vice is one dividing the whole of mankind. It follows
therefore, that the agents represented must be either above
our own level of goodness, or beneath it, or just such as we
are;

in the same way as, with the painters, the personages of
Polygnotus are better than we are, those of Pauson worse,
and those of Dionysius just like ourselves.

It is clear
that each of the above-mentioned arts will admit of these
differences, and that it will become a separate art by
representing objects with this point of difference.

Even in
dancing, flute-playing, and lyre-playing such diversities are
possible;

and they are also possible in the nameless art that
uses language, prose or verse without harmony, as its means;
Homer's personages, for instance, are better than we are;
Cleophon's are on our own level; and those of Hegemon of
Thasos, the first writer of parodies, and Nicochares, the
author of the Diliad, are beneath it.

The same is true of
the Dithyramb and the Nome: the personages may be
presented in them with the difference exemplified in the ...
of ... and Argas, and in the Cyclopses of Timotheus and
Philoxenus.

This difference it is that distinguishes Tragedy
and Comedy also; the one would make its personages worse,
and the other better, than the men of the present day.

6.1 OF the species of Poetry which imitates in hexameters, and of Comedy, we shall speak hereafter. Let us now consider TRAGEDY; collecting, first, from what has been already said, its true and essential definition.

6.2 Tragedy, then, is an imitation of some action that is important, entire, and of a proper magnitude—by language, embellished and rendered pleasurable, but by different means in different parts—in the way, not of narration, but of action—effecting through pity and terror, the correction and refinement of such passions.

6.3 By pleasurable language, I mean a language that has the embellishments of rhythm, melody, and metre. 6.4 And I add, by different means in different parts, because in some parts metre alone is employed, in others, melody.

6.5 Now as Tragedy imitates by acting, the DECORATION ¹ , in the first place, must necessarily be one of its parts: then the MELOPOEIA, (MUSIC ² ,) and the DICTION; for these last include the means of tragic imitation. 6.6 By diction ³ , I mean the metrical composition. The meaning of Melopœia is obvious to every one.

6.7 Again—Tragedy being an imitation of an action, and the persons employed in that action being necessarily characterized by their manners and their sentiments, since it is from these that actions themselves derive their character, it follows, that there must also be, MANNERS, and SENTIMENTS, as the two causes of actions, and, consequently, of the happiness, or unhappiness, of all men. 6.8 The imitation of the action is the FABLE: for by fable I now mean the contexture of incidents, or the plot. By manners, I mean, whatever marks the characters of the persons. By sentiments ⁴ , whatever they say, whether proving anything, or delivering a general sentiment, &c.

6.9 Hence, all Tragedy must necessarily contain six parts, which, together, constitute its peculiar character, or quality: FABLE, MANNERS, DICTION, SENTIMENTS, DECORATION, and MUSIC.

6.10 Of these parts, two relate to the means, one to the manner, and three to the object, of imitation ⁵ . 6.11 And these are all. These specific parts ⁶ , if we may so call them, have been employed by most Poets, and are all to be found in [almost] every Tragedy.

6.12 But of all these parts the most important is the combination of incidents, or, the FABLE. Because Tragedy is an imitation, not of men, but of actions—of life, of happiness and unhappiness: for happiness consists in action, and the supreme good itself, the very end of life, is action of a certain kind ⁷ —not quality. Now the manners of men constitute only their quality or characters ⁸ ; but it is by their actions that they are happy, or the contrary. 6.13 Tragedy, therefore, does not imitate action, for the sake of imitating manners, but in the imitation of action, that of manners is of course involved. So that the action and the fable are the end of Tragedy; and in every thing the end is of principal importance.

6.14 Again—Tragedy cannot subsist without action; without manners it may: 6.15 the Tragedies of most modern Poets have this defect; a defect common, indeed, among Poets in general. As among Painters also, this is the case with ZEUXIS, compared with POLYGNOTUS: the latter excels in the expression of the manners; there is no such expression in the pictures of ZEUXIS.

6.16 Farther—suppose any one to string together a number of speeches in which the manners are strongly marked, the language and the sentiments well turned; this will not be sufficient to produce the proper effect of Tragedy: that end will much rather be answered by a piece, defective in each of those particulars, but furnished with a proper fable and contexture of incidents. Just as in Painting, the most brilliant colours, spread at random and without design, will give far less pleasure than the simplest outline of a figure.

6.17 Add to this, that those parts of Tragedy, by means of which it becomes most interesting and affecting, are parts of the fable; I mean, revolutions, and discoveries ⁹ .

6.18 As a farther proof, adventurers in Tragic writing are sooner able to arrive at excellence in the language, and the manners, than in the construction of a plot; as appears from almost all our earlier Poets.

6.19 The fable, then, is the principal part, the soul, as it were, of Tragedy; and the MANNERS are next in rank: 6.20 Tragedy being an imitation of an action, and through that, principally, of the agents.

6.22 In the third place stand the SENTIMENTS. To this part it belongs, to say such things as are true and proper; which, in the dialogue, depends on the Political and Rhetorical arts: for, 6.23 the antients made their characters speak in the style of political and popular eloquence ¹⁰ ; but now, the rhetorical manner prevails.

6.24 The manners are, whatever manifests the disposition of the speaker. There are speeches, therefore, which are without manners, or character; as not containing any thing by which the propensities or aversions of the person who delivers them can be known.

6.25 The sentiments comprehend whatever is said; whether proving any thing, affirmatively, or negatively, or expressing some general reflection, &c. ¹¹

6.26 Fourth, in order, is the DICTION; that is, as I have already said, the expression of the sentiments by words; the power and effect of which is the same, whether in verse or prose.

6.27 Of the remaining two parts, the MUSIC stands next; of all the pleasurable accompaniments and embellishments of Tragedy, the most delightful.

6.28 The DECORATION has, also, a great effect, but, of all the parts, is most foreign to the art. For the power of Tragedy is felt without representation, and actors; and the beauty of the decorations depends more on the art of the mechanic, than on that of the Poet.

7.1 These things being thus adjusted, let us go on to examine in what manner the FABLE should be constructed; since this is the first, and most important part of Tragedy.

7.2 Now we have defined Tragedy to be an imitation of an action that is complete and entire; and that has also a certain magnitude; for a thing may be entire, and a whole, and yet not be of any magnitude ¹² .

7.3 1. By entire, I mean that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. 7.4 A beginning, is that which does not, necessarily, suppose any thing before it, but which requires something to follow it. 7.5 An end, on the contrary, is that which supposes something to precede it, either necessarily, or probably; but which nothing is required to follow. 7.6 A middle, is that which both supposes something to precede, and requires something to follow. 7.7 The Poet, therefore, who would construct his fable properly, is not at liberty to begin, or end, where he pleases, but must conform to these definitions.

7.8 2. Again: whatever is beautiful, whether it be an animal, or any other thing composed of different parts, must not only have those parts arranged in a certain manner, but must also be of a certain magnitude; for beauty consists in magnitude and order ¹³ . 7.9 Hence it is that no very minute animal can be beautiful; the eye comprehends the whole too instantaneously to distinguish and compare the parts:—neither, on the contrary, can one of a prodigious size be beautiful; because, as all its parts cannot be seen at once, the whole, the unity of object, is lost to the spectator; for example, if he were surveying an animal of many miles in length. As, therefore, in animals, and other objects, a certain magnitude is requisite, but that magnitude must be such as to present a whole easily comprehended by the eye; 7.10 so, in the fable, a certain length is requisite, but that length must be such as to present a whole easily comprehended by the memory.

7.11 With respect to the measure of this length—if referred to actual representation in the dramatic contests, it is a matter foreign to the art itself: for if a hundred Tragedies were to be exhibited in concurrence, the length of each performance must be regulated by the hour glass; a practice of which, it is said, there have formerly been instances. 7.12 But, if we determine this measure by the nature of the thing itself, the more extensive the fable, consistently with the clear and easy comprehension of the whole, the more beautiful will it be, with respect to magnitude. In general, we may say, that an action is sufficiently extended, when it is long enough to admit of a change of fortune, from happy to unhappy, or the reverse, brought about by a succession, necessary or probable, of well-connected incidents.

8.1 A fable is not one, as some conceive it to be, merely because the hero of it is one. For numberless events happen to one man, many of which are such as cannot be connected into one event: and so, likewise, there are many actions of one man which cannot be connected into any one action. 8.2 Hence appears the mistake of all those Poets who have composed HERCULEIDS, THESEIDS, and other Poems of that kind. They conclude that because Hercules was one, so also must be the fable of which he is the subject.

8.3 But HOMER, among his many other excellences, seems also to have been perfectly aware of this mistake, either from art or genius. For when he composed his ODYSSEY, he did not introduce all the events of his hero's life,—such, for instance, as the wound he received upon Parnassus ¹⁴ —his feigned madness when the Grecian army was assembling, &c. ¹⁵ —events, not connected, either by necessary or probable consequence, with each other; but he comprehended those only which have relation to one action; for such we call that of the Odyssey. And in the same manner he composed his Iliad ¹⁶ .

8.4 As, therefore, in other mimetic arts, one imitation is an imitation of one thing ¹⁷ , so here, the fable, being an imitation of an action, should be an imitation of an action that is one, and entire; the parts of it being so connected, that if any one of them be either transposed or taken away, the whole will be destroyed, or changed: for whatever may be either retained, or omitted, without making any sensible difference, is not, properly, a part ¹⁸ .

9.1 It appears, farther, from what has been said, that it is not the Poet's province to relate such things as have actually happened, but such as might have happened-such as are possible, according either to probable, or necessary, consequence.

9.2 For it is not by writing in verse, or prose, that the Historian and the Poet are distinguished: the work of Herodotus might be versified; but it would still be a species of history, no less with metre, than without. They are distinguished by this, that the one relates what has been, the other what might be. 9.3 On this account, Poetry is a more philosophical, and a more excellent thing, than History: for Poetry is chiefly conversant about general truth; History, about particular. 9.4 In what manner, for example, any person of a certain character would speak, or act, probably, or necessarily-this is general; and this is the object of Poetry, even while it makes use of particular names. But, what Alcibiades did, or what happened to him-this is particular truth.

9.5 With respect to Comedy, this is now become obvious; for here, the Poet, when he has formed his plot of probable incidents, gives to his characters whatever names he pleases; and is not, like the Iambic Poets, particular, and personal.

9.6 Tragedy, indeed, retains the use of real names; and the reason is, that, what we are disposed to believe, we must think possible: now what has never actually happened, we are not apt to regard as possible; but what has been is unquestionably so, or it could not have been at all ¹⁹ . 9.7 There are, however, some Tragedies in which one or two of the names are historical, and the rest feigned: there are even some, in which none of the names are historical; such is AGATHO's Tragedy called The Flower; for in that, all is invention, both incidents, and names; and yet it pleases. 9.8 It is by no means, therefore, essential, that a Poet should confine himself to the known and established subjects of Tragedy. Such a restraint would, indeed, be ridiculous; since even those subjects that are known, are known, comparatively, but to few, and yet are interesting to all.

9.9 From all this it is manifest, that a Poet should be a Poet, or maker, of fables, rather than of verses; since it is imitation that constitutes the Poet, and of this imitation actions are the object: 9.10 nor is he the less a Poet, though the incidents of his fable should chance to be such as have actually happened; for nothing hinders, but that some true events may possess that probability ²⁰ , the invention of which entitles him to the name of Poet.

9.11 Of simple fables or actions, the episodic are the worst. I call that an episodic fable, the episodes ²¹ of which follow each other without any probable or necessary connection; 9.11b a fault into which bad Poets are betrayed by their want of skill, and good Poets by the players: for in order to accommodate their pieces to the purposes of rival performers in the dramatic contests, they spin out the action beyond their powers, and are thus, frequently, forced to break the connection and continuity of its parts.

9.11c But Tragedy is an imitation, not only of a complete action, but also of an action exciting terror and pity. Now that purpose is best answered by such events as are not only unexpected, but unexpected consequences of each other: 9.12 for, by this means, they will have more of the wonderful, than if they appeared to be the effects of chance; since we find, that, among events merely casual, those are the most wonderful and striking, which seem to imply design: as when, for instance, the statue of Mitys at Argos killed the very man who had murdered Mitys, by falling down upon him as he was surveying it; events of this kind, not having the appearance of accident. 9.13 It follows then, that such fables as are formed on these principles must be the best.

10.1 Fables are of two sorts, simple and complicated; for so also are the actions themselves of which they are imitations. 10.2 An action, (having the continuity and unity prescribed,) I call simple, when its catastrophe is produced without either revolution, or discovery: 10.3 complicated, when with one, or both. 10.4 And these should arise from the structure of the fable itself, so as to be the natural consequences, necessary or probable, of what has preceded in the action. For there is a wide difference between incidents that follow from, and incidents that follow only after, each other.

11.1 A REVOLUTION, is a change, (such as has already been mentioned ²² ,) into the reverse of what is expected from the circumstances of the action; and that, produced, as we have said, by probable, or necessary consequence.

11.2 Thus, in the Oedipus ²³ , the messenger, meaning to make Oedipus happy, and to relieve him from the dread he was under with respect to his mother, by making known to him his real birth, produces an effect directly contrary to his intention. 11.3 Thus, also, in the Tragedy of Lynceus: Lynceus is led to suffer death, Danaus follows to inflict it; but the event, resulting from the course of the incidents, is, that Danaus is killed, and Lynceus saved.

11.4 A DISCOVERY, as, indeed, the word implies, is a change from unknown to known, happening between those characters whose happiness, or unhappiness, forms the catastrophe of the drama, and terminating in friendship or enmity ²⁴ .

11.5 The best sort of Discovery is that which is accompanied by a Revolution, as in the Oedipus.

11.6 There are, also, other Discoveries; for inanimate things, of any kind, may be recognized in the same manner ²⁵ ; and we may discover whether such a particular thing was, or was not, done by such a person:- 11.7 but the Discovery most appropriated to the fable, and the action, is that above defined; because such Discoveries, and Revolutions, must excite either pity or terror; and Tragedy we have defined to be an imitation of pitiable and terrible actions: and because, also, by them the event, happy, or unhappy, is produced.

11.8 Now Discoveries, being relative things, are sometimes of one of the persons only, the other being already known; and sometimes they are reciprocal: thus, Iphigenia is discovered to Orestes by the letter which she charges him to deliver, and Orestes is obliged, by other means, to make himself known to her ²⁶ .

11.9 These then are two parts of the fable-Revolution and Discovery. There is a third, which we denominate, DISASTERS. The two former have been explained. 11.10 Disasters comprehend all painful or destructive actions; the exhibition of death, bodily anguish, wounds, and every thing of that kind.

12.1 The parts of Tragedy which are necessary to constitute its quality, have been already enumerated. Its parts of quantity-the distinct parts into which it is divided-are these: PROLOGUE, EPISODE, EXODE, and CHORUS; 12.2 which last is also divided into the PARODE, and the STASIMON. These are common to all Tragedies. 12.3 The COMMOI are found in some only.

12.4 The Prologue ²⁷ is all that part of a Tragedy which precedes the Parode of the Chorus.- 12.5 The Episode ²⁸ , all that part which is included between entire Choral Odes. 12.6 The Exode ²⁹ , that part which has no Choral Ode after it.

12.7 Of the Choral part, the Parode ³⁰ is the first speech of the whole Chorus: 12.8 the Stasimon ³¹ , includes all those Choral Odes that are without Anapests and Trochees.

12.9 The Commos ³² , is a general lamentation of the Chorus and the Actors together.

12.10 Such are the separate parts into which Tragedy is divided. Its parts of quality were before explained.

13.1 The order of the subject leads us to consider, in the next place, what the Poet should aim at, and what avoid, in the construction of his fable; and by what means the purpose of Tragedy may be best effected.

13.2 Now since it is requisite to the perfection of a Tragedy that its plot should be of the complicated, not of the simple kind, and that it should imitate such actions as excite terror and pity, (this being the peculiar property of the Tragic imitation,) it follows evidently, in the first place, that the change from prosperity to adversity should not be represented as happening to a virtuous character ³³ ; for this raises disgust, rather than terror, or compassion. 13.3 Neither should the contrary change, from adversity to prosperity, be exhibited in a vitious character: this, of all plans, is the most opposite to the genius of Tragedy, having no one property that it ought to have; for it is neither gratifying in a moral view, nor affecting, nor terrible. 13.4 Nor, again, should the fall of a very bad man from prosperous to adverse fortune be represented: because, though such a subject may be pleasing from its moral tendency, it will produce neither pity nor terror. For our pity is excited by misfortunes undeservedly suffered, and our terror, by some resemblance between the sufferer and ourselves. Neither of these effects will, therefore, be produced by such an event.

13.5 There remains, then, for our choice, the character between these extremes; that of a person neither eminently virtuous or just, nor yet, involved in misfortune by deliberate vice, or villainy; but by some error of human frailty: and this person should, also, be some one of high fame and flourishing prosperity. For example, OEDIPUS, THYESTES, or other illustrious men of such families.

13.6 Hence it appears, that, to be well constructed, a fable, contrary to the opinion of some, should be single rather than double ³⁴ ; that the change of fortune should not be from adverse to prosperous, but the reverse; and that it should be the consequence, not of vice, but of some great frailty, in a character such as has been described, or better rather than worse.

13.7 These principles are confirmed by experience; for Poets, formerly, admitted almost any story into the number of Tragic subjects; but now, the subjects of the best Tragedies are confined to a few families-to Alcmaeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, and others, the sufferers, or the authors, of some terrible calamity.

13.8 The most perfect Tragedy, then, according to the principles of the art, is of this construction. 13.9 Whence appears the mistake of those critics who censure EURIPIDES for this practice in his Tragedies, many of which terminate unhappily; for this, as we have shewn, is right. 13.10 And, as the strongest proof of it, we find that upon the stage, and in the dramatic contests, such Tragedies, if they succeed, have always the most Tragic effect: and EURIPIDES, though, in other respects, faulty in the conduct of his subjects, seems clearly to be the most Tragic of all Poets.

13.11 I place in the second rank, that kind of fable to which some assign the first ³⁵ ; that which is of a double construction, like the Odyssey, and also ends in two opposite events, to the good, and to the bad, characters. 13.12 That this passes for the best, is owing to the weakness of the spectators, to whose wishes the Poets accommodate their productions. 13.13 This kind of pleasure, however, is not the proper pleasure of Tragedy, but belongs rather to Comedy; for there, if even the bitterest enemies, like Orestes and Aegisthus, are introduced, they quit the scene at last in perfect friendship, and no blood is shed on either side.

14.1 Terror and pity may be raised by the decoration-the mere spectacle ³⁶ ; but they may also arise from the circumstances of the action itself; which is far preferable, and shews a superior Poet. 14.2 For the fable should be so constructed, that, without the assistance of the sight, its incidents may excite horror and commiseration in those, who hear them only: an effect, which every one, who hears the fable of the Oedipus, must experience. 14.3 But, to produce this effect by means of the decoration, discovers want of art in the Poet; who must also be supplied, by the public, with an expensive apparatus ³⁷ .

14.4 As to those Poets, who make use of the decoration in order to produce, not the terrible, but the marvellous only, their purpose has nothing in common with that of Tragedy. For we are not to seek for every sort of pleasure from Tragedy, but for that only which is proper to the species.

14.5 Since, therefore, it is the business of the Tragic Poet to give that pleasure, which arises from pity and terror, through imitation, it is evident, that he ought to produce that effect by the circumstances of the action itself.

14.6 Let us, then, see, of what kind those incidents are, which appear most terrible, or piteous.

Now, such actions must, of necessity, happen between persons who are either friends, or enemies, or indifferent to each other. 14.7 If an enemy kills, or purposes to kill, an enemy, in neither case is any commiseration raised in us ³⁸ , beyond what necessarily arises from the nature of the action itself. 14.8 The case is the same, when the persons are neither friends nor enemies. 14.9 But when such disasters happen between friends-when, for instance, the brother kills ³⁹ , or is going to kill, his brother, the son his father, the mother her son, or the reverse-these, and others of a similar kind, are the proper incidents for the Poet's choice.

14.10 The received Tragic subjects, therefore, he is not at liberty essentially to alter; Clytemnestra must die by the hand of Orestes, and Eriphyle by that of Alcmaeon: 14.11 but it is his province to invent other subjects, and to make a skilful use of those which he finds already established. What I mean by a skilful use, I proceed to explain.

14.12 The atrocious action may be perpetrated knowingly and intentionally ⁴⁰ , as was usual with the earlier Poets; and as EURIPIDES, also, has represented Medea destroying her children ⁴¹ .

14.13 It may, likewise, be perpetrated by those, who are ignorant, at the time, of the connection between them and the injured person, which they afterwards discover; like Oedipus, in SOPHOCLES ⁴² . There, indeed, the action itself does not make a part of the drama: the Alcmaeon of Astydamas, and Telegonus in the Ulysses Wounded, furnish instances within the Tragedy ⁴³ .

14.14 There is yet a third way, where a person upon the point of perpetrating, through ignorance, some dreadful deed, is prevented by a sudden discovery ⁴⁴ .

14.15 Beside these, there is no other proper way. For the action must of necessity be either done, or not done, and that, either with knowledge, or without: 14.16 but of all these ways ⁴⁵ , that of being ready to execute, knowingly, and yet not executing, is the worst; for this is, at the same time, shocking, and yet not Tragic, because it exhibits no disastrous event. It is, therefore, never, or very rarely, made use of. The attempt of Haemon to kill Creon, in the Antigone ⁴⁶ , is an example.

14.17 Next to this, is the actual execution of the purpose ⁴⁷ .

14.18 To execute, through ignorance, and afterwards to discover, is better: for thus, the shocking atrociousness is avoided, and, at the same time, the discovery is striking.

14.19 But the best of all these ways, is the last. Thus, in the Tragedy of Cresphontes, Merope, in the very act of putting her son to death, discovers him, and is prevented. In the Iphigenia ⁴⁸ , the sister, in the same manner, discovers her brother; and in the Helle ⁴⁹ , the son discovers his mother, at the instant when he was going to betray her.

14.20 On this account it is, that the subjects of Tragedy, as before remarked, are confined to a small number of families. For it was not to art, but to fortune, that Poets applied themselves, to find incidents of this nature. Hence the necessity of having recourse to those families, in which such calamities have happened.

14.21 Of the PLOT, or FABLE, and its requisites, enough has now been said.

15.1 With respect to the MANNERS, four things are to be attended to by the Poet.

15.2 First, and principally, they should be good. Now manners, or character, belong, as we have said before, to any speech or action that manifests a certain disposition; and they are bad, or good, as the disposition manifested is bad, or good. 15.3 This goodness of manners may be found in persons of every description: the manners of a woman, or of a slave, may be good; though, in general, women are, perhaps, rather bad, than good, and slaves, altogether bad ⁵⁰ .

15.4 The second requisite of the manners, is propriety. There is a manly character of bravery and fierceness, which cannot, with propriety, be given to a woman.

15.5 The third requisite is resemblance; for this is a different thing from their being good, and proper, as above described ⁵¹ .

15.6 The fourth, is uniformity; for even though the model of the Poet's imitation be some person of ununiform manners, still that person must be represented as uniformly ununiform.

15.7 We have an example of manners unnecessarily bad, in the character of Menelaus in the Tragedy of Orestes ⁵² : 15.8 of improper and unbecoming manners, in the lamentation of Ulysses in Scylla, and in the speech of Menalippe ⁵³ : 15.9 of ununiform manners, in the Iphigenia at Aulis; for there, the Iphigenia, who supplicates for life, has no resemblance to the Iphigenia of the conclusion.

15.10 In the manners, as in the fable, the Poet should always aim, either at what is necessary, or what is probable; so that such a character shall appear to speak or act, necessarily, or probably, in such a manner, and this event, to be the necessary or probable consequence of that. 15.10b Hence it is evident, that the development also of a fable should arise out of the fable itself, and not depend upon machinery, as in the Medea ⁵⁴ , or in the incidents relative to the return of the Greeks, in the Iliad ⁵⁵ . 15.10c The proper application of machinery is to such circumstances, as are extraneous to the drama; such, as either happened before the time of the action, and could not, by human means, be known; or, are to happen after, and require to be foretold: for to the Gods we attribute the knowledge of all things. 15.10d But nothing improbable should be admitted in the incidents of the fable ⁵⁶ ; or, if it cannot be avoided, it should, at least, be confined to such as are without the Tragedy itself; as in the Oedipus of SOPHOCLES.

15.11 Since Tragedy is an imitation of what is best, we should follow the example of skilful portrait-painters; who, while they express the peculiar lineaments, and produce a likeness, at the same time improve upon the original ⁵⁷ . And thus, too, the Poet, when he imitates the manners of passionate men, (or of indolent, or any other of a similar kind,) should draw an example approaching rather to a good, than to a hard and ferocious character: as Achilles is drawn, by AGATHO, and by HOMER.

15.12 These things the Poet should keep in view; and, besides these, whatever relates to those senses which have a necessary connection with Poetry: for here, also, he may often err ⁵⁸ . But of this enough has been said in the treatises already published.

16.1 What is meant by a DISCOVERY, has already been explained. Its kinds are the following ⁵⁹ .

16.2 First, the most inartificial of all, and to which, from poverty of invention, the generality of Poets have recourse-the discovery by visible signs. Of these signs, some are natural; as, the lance with which the family of the earth-born Thebans were marked ⁶⁰ , or the stars which Carcinus has made use of in his Thyestes: 16.3 others are adventitious; and of these, some are corporal, as scars-some external, as necklaces, bracelets, &c. or the little boat by which the discovery is made in the Tragedy of Tyro ⁶¹ . 16.4 Even these, however, may be employed with more, or less skill. The discovery of Ulysses, for example, to his nurse, by means of his scar, is very different from his discovery, by the same means, to the herdsmen. 16.5 For all those discoveries, in which the sign is produced by way of proof, are inartificial. Those, which, like that in the Washing of Ulysses ⁶² , happen suddenly and casually, are better.

16.6 Secondly-Discoveries invented, at pleasure, by the Poet, and, on that account, still inartificial. For example; in the Iphigenia, Orestes, after having discovered his sister, discovers himself to her. She, indeed, is discovered by the letter; but Orestes, by [verbal proofs:] and these are such, as the Poet chuses to make him produce, not such, as arise from the circumstances of the fable ⁶³ . This kind of discovery, therefore, borders upon the fault of that first mentioned: for, some of the things from which those proofs are drawn, are even such, as might have been actually produced as visible signs. 16.7 Another instance, is the discovery by the sound of the shuttle in the Tereus of SOPHOCLES.

16.8 Thirdly-The Discovery occasioned by memory; as, when some recollection is excited by the view of a particular object. Thus, in the Cyprians of Dicaeogenes, a discovery is produced by tears shed at the sight of a picture: and thus, in the Tale of Alcinous, Ulysses, listening to the bard, recollects, weeps, and is discovered ⁶⁴ .

16.9 Fourthly-The Discovery occasioned by reasoning or inference ⁶⁵ ; such as that in the Choephorae: "The person, who is arrived, resembles me-no one resembles me but Orestes-it must be he !". And that of Polyides the Sophist, in his Iphigenia ⁶⁶ ; for the conclusion of Orestes was natural. "It had been his sister's lot to be sacrificed, and it was now his own!". That, also, in the Tydeus of Theodectes:-"He came to find his son, and he himself must perish!". And thus, the daughters of Phineus, in the Tragedy denominated from them ⁶⁷ , viewing the place to which they were led, infer their fate: "there they were to die, for there they were exposed!".

16.10 There is also a compound sort of discovery, arising from false inference in the audience ⁶⁸ ; as in Ulysses the False Messenger: he asserts, that he shall know the bow, which he had not seen; the audience falsely infer, that a discovery, by that means, will follow.

16.11 But, of all Discoveries, the best is that, which arises from the action itself, and in which a striking effect is produced by probable incidents. Such is that in the Oedipus of SOPHOCLES: and that in the Iphigenia; for nothing more natural than her desire of con-veying the letter. Such discoveries are the best, because they alone are effected without the help of invented proofs, or bracelets, &c. ⁶⁹ . 16.12 Next to these, are the discoveries by inference.

17.1 The Poet, both when he plans, and when he writes, his Tragedy, should put himself, as much as possible, in the place of a spectator; for, by this means, seeing everything distinctly, as if present at the action, he will discern what is proper, and no inconsistencies will escape him. 17.2 The fault objected to Carcinus is a proof of this. Amphiaraus had left the temple: this, the Poet, for want of conceiving the action to pass before his eyes, overlooked ⁷⁰ ; but in the representation, the audience were disgusted, and the piece condemned.

17.3 In composing, the Poet should even, as much as possible, be an actor: for, by natural sympathy, they are most persuasive and affecting, who are under the influence of actual passion. We share the agitation of those, who appear to be truly agitated-the anger of those, who appear to be truly angry. 17.4 Hence it is, that Poetry demands, either great natural quickness of parts, or an enthusiasm allied to madness. By the first of these, we mould ourselves with facility to the imitation of every form; by the other, transported out of ourselves, we become what we imagine.

17.5 When the Poet invents a subject, he should, first, draw a general sketch of it, and afterwards give it the detail of its Episodes, and extend it. 17.6 The general argument, for instance, of the Iphi-genia, should be considered in this way: "A virgin, on the point of being sacrificed, is imperceptibly conveyed away from the altar, and transported to another country, where it was the custom to sacrifice all strangers to Diana. Of these rites she is appointed priestess. It happens, some time after, that her brother arrives there." ⁷¹ . But why?-because an oracle had commanded him, for some reason exterior to the general plan. For what purpose? This, also, is exterior to the plan ⁷² . "He arrives, is seized, and, at the instant that he is going to be sacrificed, the discovery is made.". And this may be, either in the way of Euripides, or like that of Polyides ⁷³ , by the natural reflection of Orestes, that-"it was his fate also, as it had been his sister's, to be sacrificed;" by which exclamation he is saved.

17.7 After this, the Poet, when he has given names to his characters, should proceed to the Episodes of his action; 17.8 and he must take care, that these belong properly to the subject; like that of the madness of Orestes, which occasions his being taken, and his escape by means of the ablution. 17.9 In dramatic Poetry the Episodes are short; but, in the Epic, they are the means of drawing out the poem to its proper length.

17.10 The general story of the ODYSSEY, for example, lies in a small compass: "A certain man is supposed to be absent from his own country for many years-he is persecuted by Neptune, deprived of all his companions, and left alone. At home, his affairs are in disorder-the suitors of his wife dissipating his wealth, and plotting the destruction of his son. Tossed by many tempests, he at length arrives, and, making himself known to some of his family, attacks his ene-mies, destroys them, and remains himself in safety.". 17.11 This is the essential; the rest is Episode.

18.1 Every Tragedy consists of two parts-the complication, and the development ⁷⁴ . The complication is often formed by incidents supposed prior to the action, and by a part, also, of those that are within the action; the rest, form the development. 18.2 I call complication, all that is between the beginning of the piece, and the last part, where the change of fortune commences:-development, all between the beginning of that change, and the conclusion.

18.3 Thus, in the Lynceus of Theodectes, the events antecedent to the action, and the seizure of the child, constitute the complication; the development is from the accusation of murder to the end ⁷⁵ .

18.4 There are four kinds of Tragedy, deducible from so many parts, which have been mentioned. 18.5 One kind is the COMPLICATED; where all depends on revolution and discovery: 18.6 another is the DISASTROUS ⁷⁶ , such as those on the subject of Ajax or Ixion: 18.7 another, the MORAL ⁷⁷ , as the Phthiotides, and the Peleus ⁷⁸ : 18.8 and, fourthly, the SIMPLE, such as the Phorcides ⁷⁹ , the Prometheus, and all those Tragedies, the scene of which is laid in the infernal regions.

18.9 It should be the Poet's aim to make himself master of all these manners ⁸⁰ ; of as many of them, at least, as possible, and those the best: especially, considering the captious criticism, to which, in these days, he is exposed. For, the public, having now seen different Poets excel in each of these different kinds, expect every single Poet to unite in himself, and to surpass, the peculiar excellences of them all.

18.10 One Tragedy may justly be considered as the same with another, or different, not according as the subjects, but, rather, according as the complication and development, are the same or different. 18.11 Many Poets, when they have complicated well, develop badly ⁸¹ . 18.12 They should endeavour to deserve equal applause in both.

18.13 We must also be attentive to what has been often mentioned ⁸² , and not construct a Tragedy upon an Epic plan. By an Epic plan, I mean, a fable composed of many fables ⁸³ ; as if any one, for instance, should take the entire fable of the ILIAD for the subject of a Tragedy. 18.14 In the Epic Poem, the length of the whole admits of a proper magnitude in the parts; but in the drama, the effect of such a plan is far different from what is expected. 18.15 As a proof of this, those Poets, who have formed the whole of the destruction of Troy into a Tragedy, instead of confining themselves (as Euripides, but not Aeschylus, has done, in the story of Niobe,) to a part, have either been condemned in the representation, or have contended without success.

18.16 Even Agatho has failed on this account, and on this only: for, in revolutions, and in actions also of the simple kind, these Poets succeed wonderfully in what they aim at; and that is, the union of Tragic effect with moral tendency: 18.17 as when, for example, a character of great wisdom, but without integrity, is deceived, like Sisyphus; or, a brave, but unjust man, conquered. 18.18 Such events, as Agatho says, are probable, "as it is probable, in general, that many things should happen contrary to probability.".

18.19 The CHORUS should be considered as one of the persons in the drama ⁸⁴ ; should be a part of the whole, and a sharer in the action: not as in Euripides ⁸⁵ , but, as in Sophocles. 18.20 As for other Poets-their choral songs have no more connection with their subject, than with that of any other Tragedy: and hence, they are now become detached pieces, inserted at pleasure: a practice first introduced by Agatho ⁸⁶ . Yet where is the difference, between this arbitrary insertion of an Ode, and the transposition of a speech, or even of a whole Episode, from one Tragedy to another?.

19.1 Of the other parts of Tragedy enough has now been said. We are next to consider the DICTION, and the SENTIMENTS.

19.2 For what concerns the sentiments, we refer to the principles laid down in the books on Rhetoric ⁸⁷ ; for to that subject they more properly belong. 19.3 The sentiments include whatever is the object of speech; 19.4 as, for instance, to prove, to confute, to move the passions-pity, terror, anger, and the like; to amplify, or to diminish. 19.5 But it is evident, that, with respect to the things themselves also ⁸⁸ , when the Poet would make them appear pitiable, or terrible, or great, or probable, he must draw from the same sources; 19.6 with this difference only, that, in the drama, these things must appear to be such, without being shewn to be such ⁸⁹ ; whereas, in oratory, they must be made to appear so by the speaker, and in consequence of what he says: otherwise, what need of an orator, if they already appear so, in themselves, and not through his eloquence?.

19.7 With respect to DICTION, one part of its theory is that, which treats of the figures of speech ⁹⁰ ; such as, commanding, entreating, relating, menacing, interrogating, answering, and the like. But this belongs, properly, to the art of acting, and to the professed masters of that kind.

19.8 The Poet's knowledge, or ignorance, of these things, cannot any way materially affect the credit of his art. For who will suppose there is any justice in the cavil of Protagoras-that, in the words, "The wrath, O goddess, sing ⁹¹ ," the Poet, where he intended a prayer, had expressed a command: for he insists, that to say, Do this, or do it not, is to command.- 19.9 This subject, therefore, we pass over, as belonging to an art distinct from that of Poetry.

20.1 TO ALL DICTION, belong the following parts:-the letter, the syllable, the conjunction, the noun, the verb, the article, the case, the discourse or speech.

1. 20.2 A letter is an indivisible sound; yet not all such sounds are letters, but those only that are capable of forming an intelligible sound. For there are indivisible sounds of brute creatures; but no such sounds are called letters. 20.3 Letters are of three kinds; vowels, semivowels, and mutes. The vowel, is that, which has a distinct sound without articulation ⁹² ; as A, or O.-The semivowel, that which has a distinct sound with articulation, as S, and R. The mute, that which, with articulation, has yet no sound by itself; but joined with one of those letters that have some sound, becomes audible; as, G, and D. ⁹³ . 20.4 These all differ from each other, as they are produced by different configurations, and in different parts, of the mouth; as they are aspirated or smooth, long or short; as their tone is acute, grave, or intermediate: the detail of all which, is the business of the metrical treatises.

2. 20.5 A syllable, is a sound without signification, composed of a mute and a vowel: for GR, without A, is not a syllable; with A, as GRA, it is. But these differences, also, are the subject of the metrical art.

3. 20.6 A conjunction, is a sound without signification, * * * * * * * of such a nature, as, out of several sounds, each of them significant, to form one significant sound ⁹⁴ .

4. 20.7 An article, is a sound without signification, which marks the beginning, or the end of a sentence; or distinguishes, as when we say, THE word φημι, THE word περι, &c. ⁹⁵ * * * * *.

5. 20.8 A noun, is a sound, composed of other sounds; significant, without expression of time; and of which no part is by itself significant: for even in double words, the parts are not taken in the sense that separately belongs to them. Thus, in the word Theodorus, dorus is not significant ⁹⁶ .

6. 20.9 A verb, is a sound composed of other sounds;-significant-with expression of time: and of which, as of the noun, no part is by itself significant. Thus, in the words, man, white, indication of time is not included: in the words, he walks, he walked, &c. it is included; the one expressing the present time, the other the past.

7. 20.10 Cases belong to nouns and verbs ⁹⁷ . Some cases express relation, as of, to, and the like: others, number; as man, or men, &c. Others relate to action or pronunciation ⁹⁸ : as those of interrogation, of command, &c. for, εβαδισε; [did he go?] and, βαδιζε [go,] are verbal cases of that kind.

8. 20.11 Discourse, or speech, is a sound significant, composed of other sounds, some of which are significant by themselves: 20.12 for all discourse is not composed of verbs and nouns;-the definition of Man ⁹⁹ , for instance. Discourse, or speech, may subsist without a verb: some significant part, however, it must contain significant, as the word Cleon is, in, "Cleon walks.".

20.13 A discourse or speech is one, in two senses; either as it signifies one thing, or, several things made one by conjunction. Thus, the Iliad is one by conjunction: the definition of Man, by signifying one thing.

21.1 Of WORDS, some are single-by which I mean, composed of parts not significant; and some double: 21.2 of which last, some have one part significant, and the other not significant; and some, both parts significant. 21.3 A word may also be triple, quadruple, &c. like many of those used by the Megaliotae; as, Hermocaicoxanthus ¹⁰⁰ . 21.4 Every word is either common, or foreign, or metaphorical, or ornamental, or invented, or extended, or contracted, or altered ¹⁰¹ .

21.5 By COMMON words, I mean, such as are in general and established, use. 21.6 By FOREIGN, such as belong to a different language: so that the same word may, evidently, be both common, and foreign, though not to the same people. The word Σιγυνον, to the Cyprians is common, to us, foreign.

21.7 A METAPHORICAL ¹⁰² word is a word transferred from its proper sense; either from genus to species, or from species to genus, or from one species to another, or in the way of analogy.

21.8 1. From genus to species: as, Secure in yonder port my vessel STANDS ¹⁰³ . For, to be at anchor, is one species of standing or being fixed ¹⁰⁴ .

21.9 2. From species to genus: as, - to Ulysses, A THOUSAND generous deeds we owe- ¹⁰⁵ . For a thousand is a certain definite many, which is here used for many, in general.

21.10 3. From one species to another ¹⁰⁶ : as, Χαλκῳ απο ψυχην ΑΡΥΣΑΣ. And, ΤΑΜ' ατειρει χαλκῳ. For here, the Poet uses ταμειν, to cut off, instead of αρυσαι, to draw forth, and αρυσαι instead of ταμειν: each being a species of taking away.

21.11 4. In the way of analogy-when, of four terms, the second bears the same relation to the first, as the fourth to the third; in which case, the fourth may be substituted for the second, and the second for the fourth. 21.12 And, sometimes, the proper term is also introduced, besides its relative term. Thus, a cup bears the same relation to Bacchus, as a shield to Mars. A shield, therefore, may be called the cup of Mars, and a cup, the shield of Bacchus. 21.13 Again-evening being to day, what old age is to life, the evening may be called the old age of the day, and old age, the evening of life; or, as Empedocles has expressed it, "Life's setting sun ¹⁰⁷ .". 21.14 It sometimes happens, that there is no proper analogous term, answering to the term borrowed; which yet may be used in the same manner, as if there were. For instance: to sow, is the term appropriated to the action of dispersing seed upon the earth; but the dispersion of rays from the sun is expressed by no appropriated term; it is, however, with respect to the sun's light, what sowing is with respect to seed. Hence the Poet's expression, of the sun- - SOWING abroad "His heaven-created flame.".

21.15 There is, also, another way of using this kind of metaphor, by adding to the borrowed word a negation of some of those qualities, which belong to it in its proper sense: 21.16 as if, instead of calling a shield the cup of Mars, we should call it the wineless cup ¹⁰⁸ .

21.17 An INVENTED word, is a word never before used by any one, but coined by the Poet himself; for such, it appears, there are; as EPNYTAI ¹⁰⁹ for KEPATA, horns, or APHTHP ¹¹⁰ for IEPEYΣ, a priest.

21.18 A word is EXTENDED, when for the proper vowel a longer is substituted, or a syllable is inserted. A word is CONTRACTED, when some part of it is retrenched. Thus, ποληος, for πολεος, and Πηληιαδεω for Πηλειδεω, are extended words: 21.19 contracted, such as KPI, and ΔΩ ¹¹¹ , and OΨ: e. g. μια γινεται αμφοτερων ΟΨ ¹¹² .

21.20 An ALTERED word, is a word, of which part remains in its usual state, and part is of the Poet's making: as in ΔΕΞΙΤΕΡΟΝ κατα μαζον, δεξιΤΕΡΟΣ is for δεξιΟΣ.

21.21 Farther;- NOUNS are divided into masculine, feminine, and neuter. 21.22 The masculine are those which end in ν, ρ, σ, or in some letter compounded of σ and a mute; these are two, ψ and ξ. - 21.23 The feminine, are those which end in the vowels always long, as η, or ω; or, in α, of the doubtful vowels: 21.24 so that the masculine and the feminine terminations are equal in number; for as to ψ and ξ, they are the same with terminations in σ. 21.25 No noun ends in a mute, or a short vowel. 21.26 There are but three ending in ι; μελι, κομμι, πεπερι: five ending in υ; πωυ, ναπυ, γονυ, δορυ, αστυ. The neuter terminate in these two last-mentioned vowels, and in ν and σ.

22.1 The excellence of diction consists in being perspicuous without being mean. 22.2 The most perspicuous is that which is composed of common words; but, at the same time, it is mean. Such is the Poetry of Cleophon, and that of Sthenelus. 22.3 That language, on the contrary, is elevated, and remote from the vulgar idiom, which employs unusual words: by unusual, I mean, foreign, metaphorical, extended-all, in short, that are not common words. 22.4 Yet, should a Poet compose his diction entirely of such words, the result would be, either an aenigma, or a barbarous jargon: an aenigma, if composed of metaphors; a barbarous jargon, if composed of foreign words. 22.5 For the essence of an aenigma consists in putting together things apparently inconsistent and impossible, and, at the same time, saying nothing but what is true. Now this cannot be effected by the mere arrangement of the words ¹¹³ ; by the metaphorical use of them, it may; as in this aenigma:

A man I once beheld, [and wondering view'd,] Who, on another, brass with fire had GLEW'D. ¹¹⁴

With

22.6 With respect to barbarism, it arises from the use of foreign words. 22.7 A judicious intermixture is, therefore, requisite.

Thus, the foreign word, the metaphorical, the ornamental, and the other species before mentioned, will raise the language above the vulgar idiom, and common words will give it perspicuity. 22.8 But nothing contributes more considerably to produce clearness, without vulgarity, of diction, than extensions, contractions, and alterations, of words: for here, the variation from the proper form, being unusual, will give elevation to the expression; and, at the same time, what is retained of usual speech will give it clearness. 22.9 It is without reason, therefore, that some critics have censured these modes of speech, and ridiculed the Poet ¹¹⁵ for the use of them; as old Euclid ¹¹⁶ did, objecting, that "versification would be an easy business, if it were permitted to lengthen words at pleasure:" and then giving a burlesque example of that sort of diction: as, * * * ¹¹⁷

22.10 Undoubtedly, when these licences appear to be thus purposely used, the thing becomes ridiculous. 22.11 In the employment of all the species of unusual words, moderation is necessary: for metaphors, foreign words, or any of the others, improperly used, and with a design to be ridiculous, would produce the same effect. 22.12 But how great a difference is made by a proper and temperate use of such words, may be seen in heroic verse. 22.13 Let any one only substitute common words in the place of the metaphorical, the foreign, and others of the same kind, and he will be convinced of the truth of what I say. For example: the same Iambic verse occurs in Aeschylus and in Euripides; but, by means of a single alteration -the substitution of a foreign, for a common and usual word, one of these verses appears beautiful, the other ordinary. For Aeschylus, in his Philoctetes ¹¹⁸ , says

Φαγεδαινα, ἡ με σαρκας ΕΣΘΙΕΙ ποδος

The cankerous wound that eats my flesh.--

But Euripides, instead of εσθιει [eats] uses ΘΟΙΝΑΤΑΙ.

The same difference will appear, if, in this verse,

Νυν δε μ' εων ΟΛΙΓΟΣ τε και ΟΥΤΙΔΑΝΟΣ και ΑΚΙΚΥΣ ¹¹⁹ ,

we substitute common words, and say,

Νυν δε μ' εων ΜΙΚΡΟΣ τε και ΑΣΘΕ

So, again, should we for the following, -

Διφρον ΑΕΙΚΕΛΙΟΝ καταθεις, ΟΛΙΓΗΝ τε τραπεζαν ¹²⁰

substitute this:-

Διφρον ΜΟΧΘΗΡΟΝ καταθης, ΜΙΚΡΑΝ τε τραπεζαν.

Or, change-Ηιονες ΒΟΟΩΣΙΝ ¹²¹ - The cliffs rebellow - Ηιονες ΚΡΑΖΟΥΣΙΝ-The cliffs resound.

22.14 Ariphrades, also, endeavoured to throw ridicule upon the Tragic Poets, for making use of such expressions as no one would think of using in common speech; as, δωματων απο, instead of απο δωματων: and ΣΕΘΕΝ-and, εγω δε ΝΙΝ-and, Αχιλλεως περι, instead of περι Αχιλλεως, &c. 22.15 Now it is precisely owing to their being not in common use, that such expressions have the effect of giving elevation to the diction. But this he did not know ¹²² .

22.16 To employ with propriety any of these modes of speech-the double words, the foreign, &c. is a great excellence: 22.17 but the greatest of all, is to be happy in the use of metaphor ¹²³ ; for it is this alone which cannot be acquired, and which, consisting in a quick discernment of resemblances, is a certain mark of genius.

22.18 Of the different kinds of words, the double are best suited to Dithyrambic Poetry; the foreign to Heroic; the metaphorical to Iambic ¹²⁴ . 22.19 In Heroic Poetry, indeed, they have all their place; but to Iambic verse, which is, as much as may be, an imitation of common speech ¹²⁵ , those words which are used in common speech are best adapted; and such are, the common, the metaphorical, and the ornamental.

22.20 Concerning TRAGEDY, and the imitation by ACTION, enough has now been said.

[1] ¹ BUT since imitators imitate those who do something, and it is necessary that these should either be worthy or depraved persons; 2.1 (for manners nearly always depend on these alone, since all men differ in their manners by vice and virtue;) it is necessary either [to imitate] those who are better than we are, ^{2 3} or those who are worse, or such as are like ourselves 1, in the same manner as painters do. 2.2 For Polygnotus, indeed, painted men more beautiful than they are, but Pauson less so, and Dionysius painted them as they are. ⁴ 2.3 But it is evident that each of the before-mentioned imitations will have these differences; and imitation is different, by imitating different things after this manner. ⁵ 2.4 For there may be differences of this kind in dancing, in playing on the flute, on the lyre, and also in orations and mere measure. Thus Homer imitates better men8 [than exist], 2.5 but Cleophon men as they are; and Hegemon the Thasian, who first made parodies, 2.6 and Nicochares, who wrote the Deliad, imitate worse characters. ⁶ In like manner in dithyrambics and the Nomi, [as Timotheus and Philoxenus have imitated the Persians and the Cyclops,] one may imitate. 2.7 By this very same difference, also, tragedy differs from comedy. For the one seeks to imitate worse, but the other better men than are.

Quoniam autem qui imitantur agentes imitantur, eos autem necesse est aut graves esse aut viles (mores enim ferme haec sequuntur sola: nequitia enim et virtute in moribus differunt omnes), aut meliores quam ipsi sumus aut peiores aut eiusdem moduli, ut pictores:

Polygnotus enim meliores, Pauso peiores, Dionysius similes pingebat.

manifestum vero est etiam illarum quas dixi imitationum unamquamque habituram esse has differentias, diversamque futuram, prout diversa in hoc genere imitabitur.

etenim in saltatione et in tibiarum citharaeque cantu licet

inesse hasce diversitates, etiam in sermonibus et nudis metris, veluti Homerus meliores, Cleophon similes, Hegemo autem Thasius, qui parodias primus fecit et Nicochares Deliadis auctor, peiores.

pariterque circa dithyrambos et circa nomos [, ut Persas et Cyclopes Timotheus et Philoxenus,] possit aliquis imitari.

ipsa hac differentia tragoedia discessit a comoedia: haec enim peiores illa autem meliores imitari vult quam qui nunc sunt.

2.1 COMME tous ceux qui imitent, imitent des actions, & qu'il eſt impoſſible que ces actions ne ſoient ou bonnes ou mauvaiſes, car les mœurs ne peuvent être diſtinguées que par ces deux qualitez, & les hommes ne different entre eux que par la vertu ou par le vice, il s'enfuit neceſſairement de là que les Poëtes dans leur imitation font les hommes ou meilleurs par rapport à nous, ou plus méchans, ou ſemblables, tout de même que les Peintres. En effet 2.2 Polygnotus peignoit les hommes meilleurs; Pauſon les peignoit plus méchans, & Denys les faiſoit ſemblables. 2.3 Et il eſt évident que ces differences ne peuvent pas manquer de ſe trouver dans chacune des imitations dont on vient de parler qui font toutes differentes par les differens ſujets qu'elles repreſentent.

2. 2.4 Les mêmes differences ſe trouvent auſſi dans la danſe, dans les airs de flute, dans les pieces de lyre & de tous les autres inſtrumens, & dans tous les ouvrages en proſe ou en vers. 2.5 Par exemple, Homere a fait les hommes meilleurs, Cleophon les a fait tels qu'ils font, & Egemon de Thaſos qui a été l'inventeur des parodies, & Nicochares Auteur de la Deliade les ont fait plus méchans. 2.6 Il en eſt de même des Poëtes qui ont compoſé des Dithyrambes & des Nomes. C'eſt ainſi que Timothée & que Philoxene ont imité les Perſes & les Cyclopes dans les pieces qui portent ce nom. 2.7 Et c'eſt cela même qui conſtitue la difference qui eſt entre la Tragedie & la Comedie, car la premiere repreſente les hommes meilleurs & l'autre les repreſente plus méchans.

Ma cóciofia che chiûche imita, imiti coloro, che operano. Et queſti è di neceſsità, che ſieno ò buoni, ò maluagi; perchè i coſtumi quaſi ſempre confeguitano à queſti ſoli : per eſſer ciaſcheduno differente ne' coſtumi mediante la virtù, òl vitio. Conſeguita pe rò neceffariamente, che e'ſi vada imitando ò gli migliori degli altri ; ò gli ſimili, ò gli peggiori: ſicome an chora interuenne fra' dipintori, che Polignoto andò ri trahendo i migliori.

Pauſone i peggiori. Et Dionifio li ſimili. Onde è manifeſto, che ciascuna delle imitationi ſopradette haurà queſte differenze;

& fia diuerfa l'u na dall'altra, s'ella imitera coſe diuerſe nel modo detto. Perchè queſte medeſime differenze anchora ſi poſſono ſcorgere nell'arte faltatoria, & in quella de ſuoni detti diſopra.

Nè queſto medefimo ancora ci è nafcoſto nelle profe, & nei verfi, oue ſi faccia l'imitatione he roica; ficome ſi può vedere in Homero, che imita li mi gliori.

In Cleofone, che imita i fimili. In Egemone da Tafio, che fu il primo, che compoſe le Parodie. Et in Nicocle, che compoſe la Deliade. Che amendue imita rono i piu vili.

Queſto ſimigliante ſi vede anchora nel la poeſia de'Ditirambi, & delle leggi. Doue fi potrebbe far l'imitatione di ſimil fatta; ſicome la fe Timoteo, & Filoſſeno nella fauola, chiamata I Perfi.

Et in quella, che fu chiamata I Ciclopi. Queſta medefima differenza ha la Tragedia con la Commedia, perchè infino al di d'hoggi l'una vuole imitare i piu rei; & l'altra vuole imitare i piu buoni.

Quoniam autem ii qui imitantur agentes imitantur, necesse vero est eos aut bonos ant aut malos esse (mores enim ferme hos consequuntur solos: nam vitiositate et virtute in moribus differunt omnes), aut meliores quam secundum nos aut peiores necesse est imitari, ut ex pictoribus Polygnotus quidem meliores,

Pauson vero deteriores, at Dionysius similes pingebat. manifestum autem est quod et ex iis quae dictae sunt imitationibus unaquaeque habebit has differentias,

et erit diversa eo quod diversa imitabitur. nam in saltatione et auletica et citharistica possunt esse huiusmodi dissimi- litudines dissimilitudines.

et circa sermones et nuda metra, ut Homerus quidem meliores,

Cleophon vero similes: at Hegemon Thasius, qui parodias, et Nicocharis, qui Deiliada, peiores.

similiter vero etiam circa dithyrambos et circa nomos, ut qui fecit Cyclopes Timotheus et Philoxenus, posset aliquis imitari.

in eadem vero differentia et tragoedia et comoedia separata est: haec enim peiores, illa meliores imitari vult quam ii qui nunc sint.

Quoniam autem imitantes imitantur agentes, necesse autem hos aut studiosos aut pravos esse (mores enim fere semper hiis assecuntur solis, malitia enim et virtute secundum mores differunt omnes) aut meliores quam secundum nos aut peiores aut et tales, sicut pictores :

Polygnostus quidem enim meliores, Pauson autem peiores, Dionisius autem similes assimilavit. —

Palam autem quod et dictarum imitationum unaqueque habebit has differentias et erit altera per altera imitari hoc modo.

Et enim in saltatione et fystulatione et cytharizatione est fieri has dissimilitudines.

Et circa sermones autem et nudam metrizationem, puta Homerus quidem meliores, Cleofon autem similes, Igimon autem Thasius parodias poetizans primus, et Nicokhares qui Diliadem peiores.

Similiter autem et circa dithyrambos et circa leges, sicut Kyclopas Thimotheus et Filoxenus, imitabitur utique aliquis.

In ipsa autem differentia et tragodia ad komodiam distat: hec quidem enim peiores, hec autem meliores imitari vult nunc. —

‏ولما كان الذين يحاكون ويشبهون قد ياتون بذلك بان يعملوا العمل الارادى فقد يجب ضرورة ان يكون هولا اما افاضل واما اراذل وذلك ان العادات والاخلاق مثلا هى تابعة لهذين فقط وذلك ان عادتهم واخلاقهم باجمعهم انما الخلاف بينها بالرذيلة والفضيلة وياتى بالحكاية والتشبيه اما الافاضل منا والاما [و]الاراذل واما من كانت حال فى ذلك كما يشبه المصورون فى صنايعهم اما الاخيار منهم للاخيار والاشرار للاشرار كما

‏اما ان فاوسن حاكا الاشرار وشبه واما ديونوسيوس كان يشبه ويحاكى الشبيه

‏فظاهر بين ان يكون كل تشبيه وحكاية من التى وصفت وكل واحد واحد من الافعال الاراديه لها هذه الاصناف والفصول وان تكون الواحدة تشبه بالاخرى وتحاكيها بهذا الضرب

‏وذلك انه فى الرقص والزمر وصناعة العيدان قد يوجد لهذه ان تكون غير متشابهة

‏ونحو الكلام والوزن المرسل مثال ذلك اما اوميروس فالقاٮل واما قالاوفون فالاشيا الشبيهة واما ايجيمن المنسوب الى ثاسيا وهو الذى كان اولا يعمل المديح ونيقوخارس المنسوب الى الارى الذى كان يحاكى الارذل

‏وكذلك ونحو هذه الى لثورامى ونوامس كما يشبه الانسان ويحاكى هكذى لقوقلوفاس طيموثاوس وفيلوكسانس

‏وبهذا الفصل بعينه الخلاف الذى للمديح عند الهجا وهو انه اما تلك فبالاراذل اما هذه فكانت تشبه بالاخيار واياهم كانت تحاكى

‏ولما كان الذين يحاكون ويشبهون قد ياتون بذلك بان يعملوا العمل الارادى فقد يجب ضرورة ان يكون هولا اما افاضل واما اراذل وذلك ان العادات والاخلاق مثلا هى تابعة لهذين فقط وذلك ان عادتهم واخلاقهم باجمعهم انما الخلاف بينها بالرذيلة والفضيلة وياتى بالحكاية والتشبيه اما الافاضل منا والاما [و]الاراذل واما من كانت حال فى ذلك كما يشبه المصورون فى صنايعهم اما الاخيار منهم للاخيار والاشرار للاشرار كما اما ان فاوسن حاكا الاشرار وشبه واما ديونوسيوس كان يشبه ويحاكى الشبيه

‏فظاهر بين ان يكون كل تشبيه وحكاية من التى وصفت وكل واحد واحد من الافعال الاراديه لها هذه الاصناف والفصول وان تكون الواحدة تشبه بالاخرى وتحاكيها بهذا الضرب

‏وذلك انه فى الرقص والزمر وصناعة العيدان قد يوجد لهذه ان تكون غير متشابهة ونحو الكلام والوزن المرسل مثال ذلك اما اوميروس فالقاٮل واما قالاوفون فالاشيا الشبيهة واما ايجيمن المنسوب الى ثاسيا وهو الذى كان اولا يعمل المديح ونيقوخارس المنسوب الى الارى الذى كان يحاكى الارذل

‏وكذلك ونحو هذه الى لثورامى ونوامس كما يشبه الانسان ويحاكى هكذى لقوقلوفاس طيموثاوس وفيلوكسانس

‏وبهذا الفصل بعينه الخلاف الذى للمديح عند الهجا وهو انه اما تلك فبالاراذل اما هذه فكانت تشبه بالاخيار واياهم كانت تحاكى