Would any man, who is ready to die for love, describe his
passion like Narcissus? Would he think of _inopem me copia fecit_, and
a dozen more of such expressions, poured on the neck of one another,
and signifying all the same thing? If this were wit, was this a time
to be witty, when the poor wretch was in the agony of death? This is
just John Littlewit in _Bartholomew Fair_, [Footnote: Jonson's play
of that name, act i. sc. i.] who had a conceit (as he tells you) left
him in his misery; a miserable conceit. On these occasions the poet
should endeavour to raise pity; but instead of this, Ovid is tickling
you to laugh. Virgil never made use of such machines, when he was
moving you to commiserate the death of Dido: he would not destroy what
he was building. Chaucer makes Arcite violent in his love, and unjust
in the pursuit of it; yet when he came to die, he made him think more
reasonably: he repents not of his love, for that had altered his
character, but acknowledges the injustice of his proceedings, and
resigns Emilia to Palamon. What would Ovid have done on this occasion?
He would certainly have made Arcite witty on his death-bed.
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