with him, and it was proposed that she should be carried off, to leave it at least doubtful whether she was dead or not.
I am sure I have never taken the liberty of making any alterations in Mr. Jephson’s excellent tragedy. It is as true that I have not set up my own judgment against those who have, and must have, more knowledge of stage effect; and, whenever I have acquiesced with them, it has been with the sole view of serving and contributing to the success of the play, or with the view of contenting Mr. Harris in little points, who had so readily consented to bring out the play. I flatter myself, too, that it has not suffered by those little compliances of mine.
It is likewise true, sir, and I have no objection to Mr. Jephson’s knowing, that I approve the alterations you have made, and which you do me the honour of proposing to me, to be inserted in the printed copy; but I fear I am not at liberty to agree to that idea, as, since I saw you, I have received another letter from Mr. Jephson, in which he desires me to deliver the last copy to you, sir, which I had done, and adds these words, “that he (Mr. Malone) may be requested not to suffer any alteration of the text, excepting as to printing, which he understands better than I do.” I confess I think Mr. Jephson too tenacious. He has produced such a treasure of beauties, that he could spare one or two. My frankness and sincerity, sir, speak this from the heart, and not in secret. I would not for the world say one thing to you and another to Mr. Jephson; and, therefore, have no objection to your communicating my letter to him. You have shown yourself so zealous a friend to him, and I hope have found me so too, that I am sure you will understand what I say as it is meant, and not as flattering to either, or as double dealing; of which I trust I am incapable.
I read with pleasure in the papers, sir, that your epilogue succeeded as it deserved; but I am much surprised at what you tell me, that the audiences have been less numerous than there was every reason to expect. If any burlesque of what is ridiculous can erase taste for genuine poetry, the age should go a little further, and admire only what is ridiculous.
