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feel it too. Those, who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation ; he was naturally learned ; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature ; he looked inwards, and found her there. I cannot say he is every where alike ; were he so I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat and insipid ; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great, when some great occasion is presented to him ; no man can say, he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets,
“ Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.”
It is to be lamented, that such a writer should want a commentary; that his language should become obsolete, or his sentiments obscure. But it is vain to carry wishes beyond the condition of human things; that which must happen to all, has happened to Shaksfleare, by accident and time ; and more than has been suffered by any other writer since the use of types, has been suffered by him through his own negligence of fame, or perhaps by that superiority of mind, which despised its own performances, when it compared them with its powers, and judged those works unworthy to be preserved, which the critics of following ages were to contend for the fame of restoring and explaining.
Among these candidates of inferior fame, I am now to stand the judgment of the public; and wish that I could
confidently produce my commentary as equal to the encouragement which I have had the honour of receiving. Every work of this kind is by its nature deficient, and I should feel little solicitude about the sentence, were it to be pronounced only by the skilful and the learned.
IT is observed of The Tempest, that its plan is regular ; this the author of The Revisal” thinks, what I think too, an accidental effect of the story, not intended or regarded by our author. But whatever might be Shaksheare’s intention in forming or adopting the plot, he has made it instrumental to the production of many characters, diversified with boundless invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurate observation of life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and sailors, all speaking
in their real characters. There is the agency of airy
spirits, and of an earthly goblin; the operations of magic, the tumults of a storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom our passions and reason are equally interested.
* Mr. Heath, who wrote a revisal of Shakspeare’s text, published. in 8vo. circa 1760.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
In this play there is a strange mixture of knowledge and ignorance, of care and negligence. The versification is often excellent, the allusions are learned and just; but the author conveys his heroes by sea from one inland town to another in the same country; he places the emperor at Milan, and sends his young men to attend him, but never mentions him more; he makes Protheus, after an interview with Silvia, say he has only seen her picture; and, if we may credit the old copies, he has, by mistaking places, left his scenery inexecrable. The reason of all this confusion seems to be that he took his story from a novel, which he sometimes followed, and sometimes forsook, sometimes remembered, and sometimes forgot. Avex ****~&
That this play is rightly attributed to shakspeare, I have little doubt. If it be taken from him, to whom shall it be given : This question may be asked of all the disputed plays, except Titus Andronicus ; and it will be found more credible, that Shaksheare might sometimes sink below his highest flights, than that any other should rise up to his lowest.
MERRY wives of winDSOR.
Of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. Rowe, that it was written at the command of queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the character of Falstaff, that she wished it to be diffused through more plays ; but suspecting that it might pall by continued uniformity, directed the poet to diversify his manner, by showing
him in love. No task is harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shaksheare knew what the queen, if the story be true, seems not to have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff must have suffered so much abatement, that little of his former cast would have remained. Falstaff could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaff. He could only counterfeit love, and his professions could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, but of money. Thus the poet approached as near as he could to the work enjoined him ; yet having perhaps in the former plays completed his own idea, seems not to have been able to give Falstaff all his former power of entertainment. This comedy is remarkable for the variety and number of the personages, who exhibit more characters appropriated and discriminated, than perhaps can be found in any other play. Whether Shaksheare was the first that produced upon the English stage the effect of language distorted and depraved by provincial or foreign pronunciation, I cannot certainly decide. This mode of forming ridiculous characters can confer prise only on him, who originally discovered it, for it requires not much of either wit or judgment; its success must be derived almost wholly from the player, but its power in a skilful mouth, even he that despises it, is unable to resist. The conduct of this drama is deficient; the action begins and ends often before the conclusion, and the differ. ent parts might change places without inconvenience ; but its general power, that power by which all works of