Let’s consider why dramatic poetry must be banished from our republic. We must begin with the notion of imitation or representation. A carpenter who wishes to make a bed or a table relies on the idea or type of a bed or a table, which contains its essence. But, we understand that the carpenter does not make the idea or type itself. Now, let’s broaden the focus and consider all the particular things, both natural and manufactured, that exist in the cosmos. Can you imagine one craftsperson capable of making all these things? What if you yourself were that person? Suppose you carried a mirror around with you everywhere you went. You could capture images of everything that exists, but they would be appearances only and not the things themselves. That’s basically what a painter does. The painter creates a bed on canvas—an apparent bed rather than a real one. Even the carpenter is making only a particular bed and is incapable of making the type on which every particular bed is based. So, although the bed made by the carpenter seems more real than the bed made by the painter, it still lacks the complete reality—what we might call bedness—that exists only in the original type.