TO THE READER.

WE are not to do evil that good may come of it, elſe I might plead in favour of the following little poem, that, whatever its faults may be, it was under⯑taken and purſued with a laudable deſign. The ridiculouſneſs, not to ſay barbarity, of turning SHAKESPEAR's plays into operas, and larding them with ſongs from quite different authors, as hath been lately prac⯑tiſed upon our moſt juſtly approved the⯑atre, is, I apprehend, of ſo glaring a nature, that every one, who is endued with the ſmalleſt ſpark of taſte, muſt immedi⯑ately be ſtruck with it. It is indeed the ſame thing, as if any perſon ſhould take it into [vi] his head to reduce one of our antient Goth⯑ick cathedrals to a modern ſummer-houſe, and ornament it with deſigns from Half⯑penny's Chineſe architecture. Such is the devaſtation and overturning! ſuch are the breaks and patches!

There is no man in England, I believe, who has greater reſpect for a piece of beef^* than I have; but ſhould I therefore like it cut into mince meat, and mixed with my cuſtard and apple-pie? Certainly, no: the impropriety of the olio would then diſ⯑guſt me. So do the vigorous lines of SHAKESPEAR, when I meet them haſhed up, with Waller and Cowley, in the luſci⯑ous compoſitions of a muſical entertain⯑ment.

If we muſt have Engliſh operas, ſome⯑what of leſs value, and at the ſame time better calculated for the end propoſed, might, I thought, be made uſe of. But [vi] many people will aſk, what occaſion is there that we ſhould have Engliſh operas at all? Let any common lover of muſick go but once to the King's theatre in the Hay-market, and he will eaſily perceive, that the Italian compoſition does, and muſt, with all its inconſiſtencies, for ever excel any thing we can produce of the like nature; and this, not for want of abilities in our compoſers, but thro' the inſuperable diſadvantages of our language. Had I ſeen any of their muſical dramas be⯑fore I undertook this, LEUCOTHÖE ſhould never have been written: but ſince it is done, and cannot be recalled, I hope I ſhall be pardoned, if I am willing to try, whether it may not be borne as a juvenile attempt at poetry; tho' I have not been ſollicitous to have it accompanied with the graces of that harmony for which it was originally intended.

A French poetaſter would have ſent ſuch a petit piece into the world with the [viii] title of Tragedie; but the Author of this hath not been long enough of the trade to acquire ſo much confidence. Opera he muſt not call it, becauſe it ſhould then end happily, which the diſpoſition of his fable would not admit of: he therefore lets it go under the denomina⯑tion of a DRAMATIC POEM. But becauſe it is, ſave in that one inſtance of its ca⯑taſtrophe, an opera, he begs leave to ſub⯑join what one of the firſt Engliſh poets hath written of that ſpecies of the drama; which will be ſufficient to ſhew, that, if he has failed in it, it is what a greater genius might have done; and, if he has ſucceeded, it is what the greateſt genius has not been aſhamed to think worthy of his accompliſhing.

‘"An opera, [ſays Mr. DRYDEN, in his preface to ALBION and ALBANUS] is a poetical tale or fiction, repreſented by vocal and inſtrumental muſick, adorn⯑ed with ſcenes, machines, and dancing. [ix] The ſuppoſed perſons of this muſical drama are generally ſupernatural, as gods and goddeſſes, and heroes, which at leaſt are deſcended from them, and are in due time to be adopted of their number. The ſubject, therefore, being extended beyond the limits of human nature, admits of that ſort of marvel⯑lous which is rejected in other plays. Human impoſſibilities are to be received as they are in faith, becauſe, where the Gods are introduced, a Supreme Power is underſtood, and ſecond cauſes are out of doors.—If the perſons repre⯑ſented were to ſpeak upon the ſtage, it would follow of neceſſity, that the expreſſions ſhould be lofty, figurative, and majeſtical. But the nature of an opera denies the frequent uſe of thoſe poetical ornaments; for vocal muſick, tho' it often admits a loftineſs of ſound, yet always exacts an harmonious ſweet⯑neſs, or, to diſtinguiſh yet more juſtly, [x] the recitative part of the opera requires a more maſculine beauty of expreſ⯑ſion and ſound: the other, which, for want of a properer word, I muſt call the ſongiſh part, muſt abound in ſoft⯑neſs, and variety of numbers; its prin⯑cipal intention being to pleaſe the hear⯑ing, rather than gratify the underſtand⯑ing."’ He ends all, after having given the preference to the Italian opera, thus: ‘"If I thought it convenient, I could here diſcover ſome rules which I have given to myſelf in writing an opera in general, and in this opera in particular: but I con⯑ſider, that the effect would only be, to have my own performance meaſured by the laws I gave, and conſequently ſet up little judges, who, not underſtanding thoroughly, would be ſure to fall upon the faults, and not to acknowledge any of the beauties. Here, therefore, if they will criticiſe, they ſhall do it out of their own fund; but let them be aſſured, [xi] that their ears are nice, for there is nei⯑ther writing nor judging on this ſubject without that good quality. It is no eaſy matter, in our language, to make words ſo ſmooth, and numbers ſo harmonious, that they ſhall almoſt ſet themſelves; and yet there are rules for this in nature, and as great a certainty and quantity in our ſyllables, as either in the Greek or Latin. But let poets and judges under⯑ſtand this firſt, and then let them begin to ſtudy Engliſh. When they have chewed a while upon theſe preliminaries, it may be they will ſcarce adventure to tax me with want of thought and elevation of fancy in this work; for they will ſoon be ſatisfied that thoſe are not the nature of this ſort of writing. The neceſſity of double rhimes, and ordering of the words and numbers for the ſweetneſs of the voice, are the main hinges on which an opera muſt move; and both of theſe are without the compaſs of any art to [xii] teach another to perform, unleſs Na⯑ture in the firſt place has done her part, by enduing the poet with nicety of hearing, that the diſcord of ſounds in words ſhall as much offend him as a ſeventh in muſic would a good com⯑poſer. I have therefore no need to make excuſes for meanneſs of thought in many places. The Italians, with all the advantages of their language, are continually forced on it, or rather they affect it. The chief ſecret is in the choice of words; and by this choice I do not mean elegancy of expreſſion, but propriety of ſound, to be varied according to the nature of the ſubject.—The ſame reaſons which depreſs thought in an opera, have a ſtronger effect upon the words, eſpecially in our language; for there is no maintaining the purity of Engliſh in ſhort meaſures, where the rhime returns ſo quick, and is ſo often female or double rhime; [xiii] which is not natural to our tongue, be⯑cauſe it conſiſts too much of monoſyl⯑lables, and thoſe too moſt commonly clogged with conſonants; for which reaſon I am often forced to coin new words, revive ſome that are antiquated, and botch others.’