dullest wit may conceive it.

But, besides these gross absurdities, how all their plays be neither
right tragedies nor right comedies, mingling kings and clowns, not
because the matter so carrieth it, but thrust in the clown by head
and shoulders to play a part in majestical matters, with neither
decency nor discretion; so as neither the admiration and
commiseration, nor the right sportfulness, is by their mongrel
tragi-comedy obtained. I know Apuleius did somewhat so, but that is
a thing recounted with space of time, not represented in one moment:
and I know the ancients have one or two examples of tragi-comedies
as Plautus hath Amphytrio. But, if we mark them well, we shall
find, that they never, or very daintily, match horn-pipes and
funerals. So falleth it out, that having indeed no right comedy in
that comical part of our tragedy, we have nothing but scurrility,
unworthy of any chaste ears; or some extreme show of doltishness,
indeed fit to lift up a loud laughter, and nothing else; where the
whole tract of a comedy should be full of delight; as the tragedy
should be still maintained in a well-raised admiration.

But our comedians think there is no delight without laughter, which
is very wrong; for though laughter may come with delight, yet cometh
it not of delight, as though delight should be the cause of
laughter; but well may one thing breed both together. Nay, in
themselves, they have, as it were, a kind of contrariety. For
delight we scarcely do, but in things that have a conveniency to
ourselves, or to the general nature. Laughter almost ever cometh of
things most disproportioned to ourselves and nature: delight hath a
joy in it either permanent or present; laughter hath only a scornful
tickling. For example: we are ravished with delight to see a fair