Oye como va . . .
Who am I to criticize Pope’s metrics? Yet, here am I to do so. He’s so orderly when he calls for disorder, you can’t believe he believes what he's saying. This is from the “Epistle to Miss Blunt” (sent with the works of Voiture):
Let the strict life of graver mortals be
A long, exact, and serious comedy;
In every scene some moral let it teach,
And if it can, at once both please and preach.
Let mine an innocent gay farce appear, 5
And more diverting still than regular,
Have humour, wit, a native ease and grace,
Though not too strictly bound to time and place . . . .
Who am I to mess with perfection? But perfection is not what’s wanted here. That damn “still” in the sixth line: why is it there but to make the line regular? And the line is about diversion as opposed to regularity. Rip it (“still”) out. And the “too” that begins the final line: why temper the farce by binding it at all? Rip it out. While you’re at it, rip out “though” and “strictly.”
One more, “wit” in the next-to-the-last line: “Grace” in the same line shouldn’t mean “gracefulness” (the kind of grace that wit can provide); it should mean “forgiveness”(as in God's grace). Let my innocent, gay, farcical life be full of humor, a natural ease, and forgiveness. Forgiveness brings the line full circle, for it is a virtue of humour. Of wit? Is it forgiving? Not so much.
So, here’s what we have. Here’s my appeal (if not Pope’s). (Wait, still one more: rip out “and,” also in line 6.)
Let the strict life of graver mortals be
A long, exact, and serious comedy;
In every scene some moral let it teach,
And if it can, at once both please and preach.
Let mine an innocent gay farce appear, 5
More diverting than regular,
Have humour, a native ease and grace,
Not bound to time, or place . . . .
This morning at seven o’clock, the phone rings. It’s Uncle Albert, caller-id says. I take a breath.
“Hello.”
“Can you take me to the doctor tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I have an appointment.”
05.01.18
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