But nothing will give the common reader a better idea of the value of Mr. Pope's edition, than the two attempts which have been fince made by Mr. Theobald and Sir Thomas Hanmer in oppofition to it; who, although they concerned themselves only in the first of these three parts of criticifm, the refloring the text (without any conception of the fecond, or venturing even to touch upon the third) yet fucceeded fo very ill in it, that they left their author in ten times a worse condition than they found him. But, as it was my ill fortune to have fome accidental connexions with these two gentlemen, it will be incumbent on me to be a little more particular concerning them.

The one was recommended to me as a poor man; the other as a poor critick: and to each of them, at different times, I communicated a great number of observations, which they managed, as they faw fit, to the relief of their feveral diftreffes. As to Mr. Theobald, who wanted money, I allowed him to print what I gave him for his own advantage; and he allowed himself in the liberty of taking one part for his own, and fequeftering another for the benefit, as I fuppofed, of fome future edition. But, as to the Oxford editor, who wanted nothing, but what he might very well be without, the reputation of a critick, I could not fo eafily forgive him for trafficking with my papers without my knowledge; and, when that project failed, for employing a number of my conjectures in his edition against my exprefs defire not to have that honour done unto me.

Mr. Theobald was naturally turned to industry and labour. What he read he could transcribe: but, as what he thought, if ever he did think, he could but ill express, so he read on; and by that means got a character of learning, without riíquing, to every obferver, the imputation of wanting a better talent. By a punctilious collation of the old books, he corrected what was manifeftly wrong in the latter editions, by what was manifeftly right in the earlier. And this is his real merit; and the whole of it. For where the phrafe was very obfolete or licentious in the common books, or only flightly corrupted in the other, he wanted fufficient knowledge of the progrefs and various ftages of the English tongue, as well as acquaintance with the peculiarity of Shakespeare's language, to understand what was right; nor had he either common judgment to fee, or critical fagacity to amend, what was manifeftly faulty. Hence he generally exerts his conjectural talent in the wrong place: he tampers

tampers with what is found in the common books; and, in the old ones, omits all notice of variations, the fense of which he did not understand.

How the Oxford editor came to think himfelf qualified for this office, from which his whole courfe of life had been fo remote, is ftill more difficult to conceive. For whatever parts he might have either of genius or crudition, he was abfolutely ignorant of the art of criticifm, as well as of the poetry of that time, and the language of his author. And fo far from a thought of examining the first editions, that he even neglected to compare Mr. Pope's, from which he printed his own, with Mr. Theobald's; whereby he loft the advantage of many fine lines, which the other had recovered from the old quartos. Where he trufts to his own fagacity, in what affects the fenfe, his conjectures are generally abfurd and extravagant, and violating every rule of criticism. Though, in this rage of correcting, he was not abfolutely deftitute of all art. For, having a number of my conjectures before him, he took as many of them as he faw fit, to work upon; and by changing them to fomething, he thought, fynonymous or fimilar, he made them his own; and fo became a critick at a cheap expence. But how well he hath fucceeded in this, as likewife in his conjectures, which are properly his own, will be feen in the courfe of my remarks: though, as he hath declined to give the reasons for his interpolations, he hath not afforded me fo fair a hold of him as Mr. Theobald hath done, who was lefs cautious. But his principal object was to reform his author's numbers; and this, which he hath done, on every occafion, by the infertion or omiffion of a fet of harmless unconcerning expletives, makes up the grofs body of his innocent corrections. fo, in fpite of that extreme negligence in numbers, which diftinguishes the firft dramatick writers, he hath tricked up the old bard, from head to foot, in all the finical exactnefs of a modern measurer of fyllables.

And

For the reft, all the corrections, which these two editors have made on any reasonable foundation, are here admitted into the text; and carefully affigned to their refpective authors. A piece of juftice which the Oxford editor never did; and which the other was not always fcrupulous in obferving towards me. To conclude with them in a word, they feparately poffeffed thofe two qualities which, more than any other, have contributed to bring the art of criti

cifm into disrepute, dulnefs of apprehenfion, and extravagance of conjecture.

I am now to give fome account of the prefent undertaking. For as to all thofe things which have been published under the titles of EfJays, Remarks, Obfervations, &c. on Shakfpeare (if you except fome critical notes on Macbeth, given as a fpecimen of a projected edition, and written, as appears, by a man of parts and genius) the rest are abfolutely below a ferious notice.

The whole a critick can do for an author, who deferves his fervice, is to correct the faulty text; to remark the peculiarities of language; to illuftrate the obfcure allufions; and to explain the beauties and defects of fentiment or compofition. And furely, if ever author had a claim to this fervice, it was our Shakespeare; who, widely excelling in the knowledge of human nature, hath given to his infinitely varied pictures of it, fuch truth of defign, fuch force of drawing, fuch beauty of colouring, as was hardly ever equalled by any writer, whether his aim was the ufe, or only the entertainment of mankind. The notes in this edition, therefore, take in the whole compass of criticism.

I. The firft fort is employed in reftoring the poet's genuine text; but in those places only where it labours with inextricable nonfenfe. In which, how much foever I may have given fcope to critical conjecture, where the old copies failed me, I have indulged nothing to fancy or imagination; but have religioufly obferved the fevere canons of literal criticism, as may be feen from the reafons accompanying every alteration of the common text. Nor would a different conduct have become a critick, whofe greatest attention, in this part, was to vindicate the established reading from interpolations occafioned by the fanciful extravagancies of others. I once intended to have given the reader a body of canons, for literal criticifm, drawn out in form; as well fuch as concern the art in general, as those that arise from the nature and circumstances of our author's works in particular. And this for two reasons. First, to give the unlearned reader a juft idea, and confequently a better opinion of the art of criticifm, now funk very low in the popular efteem, by the attempts of fome who would needs exercise it without either natural or acquired talents; and by the ill fuccefs of others, who feemed to have loft both, when they came to try them upon English authors. Secondly, To deter the unlearned writer from wantonly trifling with an art he

is a stranger to, at the expence of his own reputation, and the integrity of the text of established authors. But these ufes may be well fupplied by what is occafionally faid upon the fubject, in the course of the following remarks.

II. The second sort of notes confifts in an explanation of the author's meaning, when, by one or more of these causes, it becomes obfcure; either from a licentious use of terms, or a hard or ungrammatical conftruction; or laftly, from far-fetched or quaint allufions.

1. This licentious ufe of words is almoft peculiar to the language of Shakespeare. To common terms he hath affixed meanings of his own, unauthorized by use, and not to be juftified by analogy. And this liberty he hath taken with the nobleft parts of speech, fuch as mixed modes; which, as they are moft fufceptible of abuse, so their abuse most hurts the clearness of the discourse. The criticks (to whom Shakespeare's licence was still as much a fecret as his meaning, which that licence had obfcured) fell into two contrary mistakes; but equally injurious to his reputation and his writings. For fome of them, obferving a darkness that pervaded his whole expreffion, have cenfured him for confufion of ideas and inaccuracy of reasoning. In the neighing of a horfe (fays Rymer) or in the growling of a mastiff, there is a meaning, there is a lively expreffion, and, may I fay, more humanity than many times in the tragical flights of Shakespeare. The ignorance of which cenfure is of a piece with its brutality. The truth is, no one thought clearer, or argued more closely than this immortal bard. But his fuperiority of genius lefs needing the intervention of words in the act of thinking, when he came to draw out his contemplations into discourse, he took up (as he was hurried on by the torrent of his matter) with the first words that lay in his way; and if, amongst thefe, there were two mixed modes that had but a principal idea in common, it was enough for him; he regarded them as fynonymous, and would use the one for the other without fear or fcruple.-Again, there have been others, fuch as the two last editors, who have fallen into a contrary extreme; and regarded Shakespeare's anomalies (as we may call them) amongst the corruptions of his text; which, therefore, they have cafhiered in great numbers, to make room for a jargon of their own. This hath put me to additional trouble; for I had not only their interpolations to throw out again, but the genuine text to replace, and establish in its tead; which, in many cafes, could not be done without

fhewing

fhewing the peculiar fenfe of the terms, and explaining the causes which led the poet to fo perverse an use of them. I had it once, indeed, in my defign, to give a general alphabetick gloffary of thofe terms; but as each of them is explained in its proper place, there feemed the lefs occafion for fuch an index.

2. The poet's hard and unnatural construction had a different original. This was the effect of mistaken art and defign. The publick tafte was in its infancy; and delighted (as it always does during that state) in the high and turgid; which leads the writer to difguife a vulgar expreffion with hard and forced construction, whereby the fentence frequently becomes cloudy and dark. Here his criticks fhew their modefty, and leave him to himself. For the arbitrary change of a word doth little towards difpelling an obscurity that arifeth, not from the licentious ufe of a fingle term, but from the unnatural arrangement of a whole sentence. And they rifqued nothing by their filence. For Shakespeare was too clear in fame to be suspected of a want of meaning; and too high in fashion for any one to own he needed a critick to find it out. Not but, in his best works, we must allow, he is often fo natural and flowing, fo pure and correct, that he is even a model for ftile and language.

3. As to his far-fetched and quaint allufions, these are often a cover to common thoughts; juft as his hard conftruction is to common expreffion. When they are not fo, the explanation of them has this further advantage, that, in clearing the obfcurity, you frequently discover fome latent conceit not unworthy of his genius.

III. The third and last sort of notes is concerned in a critical explanation of the author's beauties and defects; but chiefly of his beauties, whether in ftile, thought, fentiment, character, or compofition. An odd humour of finding fault hath long prevailed amongst the criticks; as if nothing were worth remarking, that did not, at the fame time, deserve to be reproved. Whereas the publick judgment hath lefs need to be affifted in what it fhall reject, than in what it ought to prize; men being generally more ready at spying faults than in difcovering beauties. Nor is the value they fet upon a work, a certain proof that they understand it. For it is ever seen, that half a dozen voices of credit give the lead: and if the public chance to be in good humour, or the author much in their favour, the people are fure to follow. Hence it is that the true critick hath fo frequently attached

himfelf