'The unities of the drama, before everything.' 'Might I ask you,' said Nicholas, hesitating between the respect he ought to assume, and his love of the whimsical, 'might I ask you what the unities are ?' Mr Curdle coughed and considered.

'The unities, sir,' he said, 'are a completeness--a kind of universal dovetailedness with regard to place and time--a sort of a general oneness, if I may be allowed to use so strong an expression.

I take those to be the dramatic unities, so far as I have been enabled to bestow attention upon them, and I have read much upon the subject, and thought much.

I find, running through the performances of this child,' said Mr Curdle, turning to the phenomenon, 'a unity of feeling, a breadth, a light and shade, a warmth of colouring, a tone, a harmony, a glow, an artistical development of original conceptions, which I look for, in vain, among older performers--I don't know whether I make myself understood ?' 'Perfectly,' replied Nicholas.
'Just so,' said Mr Curdle, pulling up his neckcloth.

'That is my definition of the unities of the drama.' Mrs Curdle had sat listening to this lucid explanation with great complacency.