Nor half so movingly affect the mind,
As what we to our eyes presented find.
Yet there are many things which should not come
In view, nor pass beyond the tiring-room;
Which, after in expressive language told,
Shall please the audience more than to behold;
Let not Medea show her fatal rage,
And cut her children's throats upon the stage;
Nor Œdipus tear out his eyeballs there,
Nor bloody Atreus his dire feast prepare;
Cadmus, nor Progne their odd changes take,
This to a bird, the other to a snake;
Whatever so incredible you show,
Shocks my belief, and straight does nauseous grow.
Five acts, no more nor less, your play must have,
If you'll a handsome third day's share receive.[1]
Let not a god be summoned to attend
On a slight errand, nor on wire descend,
Unless the importance of the plot engage;
And let but three at once speak on the stage.
Be sure to make the chorus still promote
The chief intrigue and business of the plot;
Betwixt the acts there must be nothing sung
Which does not to the main design belong;
The praises of the good must here be told,
The passions curbed, and foes of vice extolled;
Here thrift and temperance, and wholesome laws,
Strict justice, and the gentle calms of peace,
Must have their commendations and applause;
And prayers must be sent up to heaven to guide
Blind fortune's blessing to the juster side,
To raise the poor, and lower prosperous pride.
- ↑ The custom of paying writers for the stage by the profits of the third night prevailed generally at this period, and not many years have elapsed since it was finally abandoned. But the role was not arbitrary. At an earlier date, the second night's profits were assigned to the author, and, in Henslowe's time, plays were frequently purchased, and paid for in advance.
