And since I am upon the subject of novelties, I take the boldness to advertise the reader that, though it be unusual, I have in a distinct column prefixed the several characters of the most eminent persons in the play, that, being acquainted with them at his first setting out, he may the better judge how they are carried on in the whole composition. For, plays being moral pictures, their chiefest perfections consist in the force and congruity of passions and humours, which are the features and complexion of our minds; and I cannot choose but hope that he will approve the ingenuity of this design, though possibly he may dislike the painting.
As for those who have been so angry with this innocent piece, not guilty of so much as that current wit--obscenity and profaneness--these are to let them know that, though the author converses with but few, he writes to all; and aiming as well at the delight as profit of his readers, if there be any amongst them who are pleased to enter their haggard muses at so mean a quarry, they may freely use their poetic licence, for he pretends not to any royalty on the mount of Parnassus; and I dare answer for him, that he will sing no more till he comes into that choir where there is room enough for all; and such, he presumes, is the good-breeding of these critics, that they will not be so unmannerly as to crowd him there.
[37] [Don Pedro Calderon della Barca appears to have been born at Madrid, of a good family, in 1601. Like Lope de Vega, his contemporary, he signalised his dramatic genius at a very early date, producing his "Carro del Cielo" at the age of thirteen. He devoted the better part of his life to the military profession, but afterwards took holy orders, and became a canon of Toledo. He is supposed to have died in 1681. His plays were printed at Madrid between 1683 and 1691, in 9 vols. 4º; but the best edition, according to Brunet, is that published at Madrid, 1760-63, 11 vols. 4º. Some of Calderon's dramas were never printed, and have perished.]
If we could hit on't, gallants, there are due Certain respects from writers and from you: Which, well observ'd, would celebrate this age, And both support and vindicate the stage. If there were only candour on your part, And on the poets', judgment, fancy, art; If they remember that their audience Are persons of the most exalted sense; And you consider well the just respect Due to their poems, when they are correct; Our two houses then may have the fate To help to form the manners of the state: For there are crimes arraign'd a' th' poets' bar, Which cannot be redress'd at Westminster. Our ancient bards their morals did dispense In numbers, to insinuate the sense, Knowing that harmony affects the soul, And who our passions charm, our wills control. This our well-meaning author had in view, And, though but faintly executed, you Indulg'd th' attempt with such benevolence, That he has been uneasy ever since; For though his vanity you gratified, The obligation did provoke his pride. But he has now compounded with ambition For that more solid greatness, self-fruition; And, going to embrace a civil death, He's loth to die indebted to your breath. Therefore he would be even w' you, but wants force; The stream will rise no higher than the source. And they, who treat such judges, should excel; Here 'tis to do ill, to do only well. He has, as other writers have, good-will, And only wants (like those) nature and skill; But, since he cannot reach the envied height, H' has cast some grains in this to mend the weight; And, being to part w' you, prays you to accept This revived piece as legacy or debt.