His first defect is that to which may be imputed most 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 purpose. From his writings indeed a fyftem of focial duty may be felected, for he that thinks reasonably must think morally; but his precepts and axioms drop cafually from him; he makes no juft diftribution 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 justice is a virtue in dependant on time or place.

The plots are often fo loosely formed, that a very flight confideration may improve them, and so carelefsly pursued, that he feems not always fully to comprehend his own defign. He omits opportunities of instructing or delighting which the train of his story feems to force upon him, and apparently rejects those exhibitions which would be more affect ing, for the fake 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 him-. felf near the end of his work, and, in view of his re

VOL. I.

[B]

ward,

1

ward, he shortened the labour, to snatch the profito Her therefore remits his efforts where he should most vis gorously exert them, and his catastrophe is impro-s bably produced or imperfectly reprefented.now yo coolderstong yelom surd en wie annd d He had no regard to diftinction of time or place, but gives to one age or nation, without fcruple, the customs, inftitutions, and opinions of another, at the expence not only of likelihood, but of poffibi lity. These faults Pope has endeavoured, with more zeal than judgment, to transfer to his imagined' interpolators. We need not wonder to find Helior: quoting Ariftotle, when we fee the loves of Thefeus and Hippolyta combined with the Gothick mythost logy of fairies. Shakespeare, indeed, was not the only violator of chronology, for in the fame age Sidney, who wanted not the advantages of learning, has, in his Arcadia, confounded the paftoral withs the feudal times, the days of innocence, quiet and fecurity, with thofe of turbulence, violence and ad

..In his comick fcenes he is feldom very fuccefsful, when he engages his characters in reciprocations of fmartnefs and contests of farcafm, their jets are com! monly grofs, and their pleafantry 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 represfented the real converfation of his time is not easy to3

4

deter

determines the reign of Elizabeth is commonly fup, posed to have been a time of ftateliness, formality! and referve, yet perhaps the relaxations of that feverity were not very elegant. There muft, however, ļ have been always fome modes of gayety preferable to others, and a writer ought to chufe the befta

In tragedy his performance feems conftantly to be worse, as his labour is more. The effufions of paffion which exigence forces out are for the most part friking and energetick; but whenever he folicits his invention, or ftrains his faculties, the offspring of his throes istumour, meanness, tedioufnefs, and obscurityn wal

1

Io narration he affects a difproportionate pomp of diction and a wearifome train of circumlocution, and tells 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 obstructs the progress of the action; it should 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, fpeeches are commonly cold and weak, for his power was the power of nature; when he endeavoured, like other tragick wri

ters, to catch opportunities of amplification, and inftead of inquiring what the occafion demanded, to show how much his ftores of knowledge could fupply, he feldom escapes without the pity or refentment of his reader. 4 Addwup A

It is incident to him to be now and then entangled with an unwieldy fentiment, which he cannot well exprefs, and will not reject; he struggles with it a while, and if it continues ftubborn, comprises it in words fuch as occur, and leaves it to be difentangled and evolved by those who have more leisure to beftow 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 fentiments 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 Creafon to indulge their hopes of fupreme excellence, ethan when he feems fully refolved to fink them in dejection, and mollify them with tender emotions by the fall of greatnefs, the danger of innocence, or the croffes of love. He is not long foft and pathetick without fome idie conceit, or contemptible equivocation. He no fooner begins to move, than

he

he counteracts himself; and terrour and pity, as, they are rifing in the mind, are checked and blasted by: fudden frigidity. I to cotit Fatihan wod werft i

&quot me blot en vig A quibble is to Shakespeare, what luminous vapours are to the traveller; he follows it at all adventures, it is fure to lead him out of his way, and fure to engulf him in the mire. It has fome malighånt power over his mind, and its fafcinations are irrefiftible. Whatever be the dignity or profundity of his difquifition, whether he be enlarging knowledge or exalting affection, whether he be amufing attention with incidents, or enchaining it in fufpenfe, let but a quibble fpring up before him, and he leaves his work unfinished. A quibble is the golden apple for which he will always turn afide from his career, or stoop from his elevation. A quibble, poor and barren as it is, gave him fuch delight, that he was content to purchafe it, by the facrifice of reafon, propriety and truth. A quibble was to him the fatal Cleopatra for which he loft the world, and was content to lofe it,ning i

¡ It will be thought ftrange, that, in enumerating the defects of this writer, I have not yet mentioned his neglect of the unities; his violation of thofe laws which have been inftituted and established by the joint authority of poets and of criticks,

For his other deviations from the art of writing, I reign him to critical juftice, without making any [B 3] other