praised in which the intermediate parts have neither cause nor
consequence, neither hasten nor retard the catastrophe.

In this tragedy are, however, many particular beauties, many just
sentiments and striking lines; but it wants that power of attracting
the attention which a well connected plan produces.

Milton would not have excelled in dramatic writing; he knew human
nature only in the gross, and had never studied the shades of
character, nor the combinations of concurring, or the perplexity of
contending passions. He had read much, and knew what books could
teach; but had mingled little in the world, and was deficient in the
knowledge which experience must confer.

Through all his greater works there prevails a uniform peculiarity
of DICTION, a mode and cast of expression which bears little
resemblance to that of any former writer; and which is so far
removed from common use, that an unlearned reader, when he first
opens his book, finds himself surprised by a new language.

This novelty has been, by those who can find nothing wrong in
Milton, imputed to his laborious endeavours after words suitable to
the grandeur of his ideas. "Our language," says Addison, "sank
under him." But the truth is, that, both in prose and verse, he had
formed his style by a perverse and pedantic principle. He was
desirous to use English words with a foreign idiom. This, in all
his prose, is discovered and condemned; for there judgment operates
freely, neither softened by the beauty, nor awed by the dignity of
his thoughts; but such is the power of his poetry, that his call is
obeyed without resistance, the reader feels himself in captivity to