unformed; he had no Example of fuch Fame as might force him upon Imitation, nor Criticks of fuch Authority as might reftrain his Extravagance He therefore indulged his natural Difpofition, and his Difpofition, as Rhymer has remarked, led him to Comedy. In Tragedy he often writes with great Appearance of Toil and Study, what is written at laft with little Felicity; but in his comic Scenes he seems to produce without Labour, what no Labour can improve. In Tragedy he is always ftruggling after fome Occafion to be comick; but in Comedy he feems to repofe, or to luxuriate, as in a Mode of Thinking congenial to his Nature. In his tragick Scenes there is always fomething wanting; but his Comedy often furpaffes Expectation or Defire. His Comedy pleases by the Thoughts and the Language, and his Tragedy for the greater Part by Incident and Action. His Tragedy feems to be Skill, his Comedy to be Inftinct.

The Force of his comick Scénes has fuffered little Diminution from the Changes made by a Century and a halfin Manners or in Words. As his Perfonages act upon Principles arifing from genuine Paffion, very little modified by particular Forms, their Pleasures and Vexations are communicable to all Times, and to all Places; they are natural, and therefore durable; the adventitious Peculiarities of perfonal Habits are only fuperficial Dyes, bright and pleafing for a little while, yet foon fading to a dim Tinct, without any Remains of former Luftre, but the Discriminations of true Paffion and the Colours of Nature; they pervade the whole Mass, and can only perifh with the Body that exhibits them. The accidental Compofitions of heterogeneous Modes are diffolved by the Chance which combined them ; but the uniform Simplicity of primitive Qualities neither admits Increase, nor suffers Decay. The Sand heaped by one Flood is fcattered by another, but the Rock always

continues

continues in its Place. The Stream of Time, which is continually wathing the diffoluble Fabricks of other Poets, paffes without Injury by the Adamant of Shakespeare.

If there be, what I believe there is, in every Nation, a Stile which never becomes obfolete, a certain Mode of Phrafeology fo confonant and congenial to the Analogy and Principles of its refpective Language, as to remain fettled and unaltered; this Stile is probably to be fought in the commoj Intercourfe of Life among thofe who fpeak only to be understood, without Ambition of Elegance. The Polite are always catching modifh Innovations, and the Learned depart from established Forms of Speech, in Hope of finding or making better; thofe who wifh for Diftinction, forfake the Vulgar, when the Vulgar is right; but there is a Converfation above Groffnefs, and below Refinement, where Propriety refides, and where this Poet feems to have gathered his Comick Dialogue. He is therefore more agreeable to the Ears of the prefent Age than any other Authour equally remote, and among his other Excellencies, deferves to be ftudied as one of the original Mafters of our Language.

Thefe Obfervations are to be confidered not as unexceptionably conftant, but as containing general and predominant Truth. Shakespeare's familiar Dialogue is affirmed to be fmooth and clear, yet not wholly without Ruggedness or Difficulty; as a Country may be eminently fruitful, though it has Spots unfit for Cultivation His Characters are praised as natural, though their Sentiments are fometimes forced and their Actions improbable; as the Earth upon the Whole is fpherical, though its Surface is varied with Protuberances and Cavities.

Shakespeare with his Excellencies has likewife Faults, and Faults fufficient to obfcure and overwhelm any other Merit. I fhall fhew them in the

Pro

Proportion in which they appear to me, without envious Malignity, or fuperftitious Veneration. No Queftion can be more innocently difcuffed than a dead Poet's Pretenfions to Renown; and little Regard is due to that Bigotry which fets Candour higher than Truth.

His firft Defect is that to which may be imputed moft of the Evil in Books or in Men. He facrifices Virtue to Convenience, and is fo much more careful to please than to inftruct, that he seems to write without any moral Purpofe. From his Writings indeed a System of focial Duty may be selected, for he that thinks reafonably muft think morally; but his Precepts and Axioms drop cafually from him; he makes no just Distribution of Good or Evil, nor is always careful to fhew in the Virtuous a Difapprobation of the Wicked; he carries his Perfons indifferently through Right and Wrong, and at the Clofe difmiffes them without further Care, and leaves their Examples to operate by Chance. This Fault the Barbarity of his Age cannot extenuate; for it is always a Writer's Duty to make the World better; and Juftice is a Virtue independant on Time

or Place.

The Plots are often fo loofely formed, that a very flight Confideration may improve them, and fo carelefsly pursued, that he feems not always fully to comprehend his own Defign. He omits Opportunities of inftructing or delighting which the Train of his Story feems to force upon him, and apparently rejects thofe Exhibitions which would be more affecting, for the Sake of those which are more easy.

It may be observed, that in many of his Plays the latter Part is evidently neglected. When he found himself near the End of his Work, and in View of his Reward, he fhortened the Labour, to fnatch the Profit. He therefore remits his Efforts where he fhould moft vigouroufly exert them, and

his Catastrophe is improbably produced or imperfectly reprefented.

He had no Regard to Diftinction of Time or Place, but gives to one Age or Nation, without Scruple, the Cuftoms, Inftitutions, and Opinions of another, at the Expence not only of Likelihood, but of Poffibility. Thefe Faults Pope has endeavoured, with more Zeal than Judgment, to tranffer to his imagined Interpolators. We need not wonder to find Hector quoting Ariftotle, when we fee the Loves of Thefeus and Hippolyta combined with the Gothick Mythology of Fairies. Shakespeare indeed was not the only Violator of Chronology, for in the fame Age Sydney, who wanted not the Advantages of Learning, has, in his Arcadia, confounded the Pastoral with the Feudal Times, the Days of Innocence, Quiet and Security, with those of Turbulence, Violence and Adventure.

In his Comick Scenes he is feldom very fuccefsful, when he engages his Characters in Reciprocations of Smartnefs, aud Contests of Sarcafm; their Jefts are commonly grofs, and their Pleasantry licentious; neither his Gentlemen nor his Ladies have much Delicacy, nor are fufficiently diftinguished from his Clowns by any Appearance of refined Manners. Whether he reprefented the real Converfation of his Time is not eafy to determine: The Reign of Elizabeth is commonly supposed to have been a Time of Statelinefs, Formality, and Referve; yet perhaps the Relaxations of that Severity were not very elegant. There muft, however, have been always fome Modes of Gayety preferable to others, and a Writer ought to chuse the best.

In Tragedy his Performance feems conftantly to be worfe, as his Labour is more. The Effufions of Paffion which Exigence forces out are for the most Part ftriking and energetick; but whenever he folicits his Invention, or ftrains his Faculties, the Off

fpring of his Throes is Tumour, Meannefs, Tedioufnefs, and Obfcurity.

In Narration he affects a difproportionate Pomp of Diction, and a wearifome Train of Circumlocution, and telis the Incident imperfectly in many Words, which might have been more plainly delivered in few. Narration in dramatick Poetry is naturally tedious, as it is unanimated and inactive, and obftructs the Progrefs of the Action; it fhould therefore always be rapid, and enlivened by frequent Interruption. Shakespeare found it an Encumbrance, and instead of lightening it by Brevity, endeavoured to recommend it by Dignity and Splendour.

His Declamations or fet Speeches are commonly cold and weak, for his Power was the Power of Nature; when he endeavoured, like other tragick Writers, to catch Opportunities of Amplification, and instead of inquiring what the Occafion demanded, to show how much his Stores of Knowledge could fupply, he feldom escapes without the Pity or Refentment of his Reader.

It is incident to him to be now and then entangled with an unwieldy Sentiment, which he cannot well exprefs, and will not reject; he struggles with it a while, and if it continues ftubborn, comprifes it in Words fuch as occur, and leaves it to be difentangled and evolved by those who have more Leisure to bestow upon it.

Not that always where the Language is intricate the Thought is fubtle, or the Image always great where the Line is bulky; the Equality of Words to Things is very often neglected, and trivial Sentiments and vulgar Ideas difappoint the Attention, to which they are recommended by fonorous Epithets and fwelling Figures.

But the Admirers of this great Poet have never lefs Reafon to indulge their Hopes of fupreme Ex-cellence, than when he feems fully refolved to fink

them