public thinks long, it commonly attains to think right; and of Cato
it has been not unjustly determined that it is rather a poem in
dialogue than a drama, rather a succession of just sentiments in
elegant language than a representation of natural affections, or of
any state probable or possible in human life. Nothing here "excites
or assuages emotion:" here is "no magical power of raising
phantastic terror or wild anxiety." The events are expected without
solicitude, and are remembered without joy or sorrow. Of the agents
we have no care; we consider not what they are doing, or what they
are suffering; we wish only to know what they have to say. Cato is
a being above our solicitude; a man of whom the gods take care, and
whom we leave to their care with heedless confidence. To the rest
neither gods nor men can have much attention; for there is not one
amongst them that strongly attracts either affection or esteem. But
they are made the vehicles of such sentiments and such expression
that there is scarcely a scene in the play which the reader does not
wish to impress upon his memory.

When Cato was shown to Pope, he advised the author to print it,
without any theatrical exhibition, supposing that it would be read
more favourably than heard. Addison declared himself of the same
opinion, but urged the importunity of his friends for its appearance
on the stage. The emulation of parties made it successful beyond
expectation; and its success has introduced or confirmed among us
the use of dialogue too declamatory, of unaffecting elegance, and
chill philosophy. The universality of applause, however it might
quell the censure of common mortals, had no other effect than to
harden Dennis in fixed dislike; but his dislike was not merely
capricious. He found and showed many faults; he showed them indeed
with anger, but he found them indeed with acuteness, such as ought