praised most, when praise is not most deserved. | Shakspeare's plays; his adherence to the real That this play has scenes noble in themselves, story, and to Roman manners, seems to have and very well contrived to strike in the exhibi- impeded the natural vigour of his genius, tion, cannot be denied. But some parts are trifling, others shocking, and some improbable. I have nothing to add to the observations of the learned critics, but that some traces of this antiquated exhibition are still retained in the rustic puppet-plays, in which I have seen the Devil very lustily belaboured by Punch, whom I hold to be the legitimate successor of the old Vice. KING HENRY VIII. The play of "Henry the Eighth" is one of those which still keep possession of the stage by the splendour of its pageantry. The coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet pomp is not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows and virtuous distress of Katharine have furnished some scenes, which may be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every other part may be easily conceived, and easily written. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. This play keeps curiosity always busy, and the passions always interested. The continual hurry of the action, the variety of incidents, and the quick succession of one personage to an other, call the mind forward without intermission from the first act to the last. But the power of delighting is derived principally from the frequent changes of the scene; for except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distingnish Cleopatra, no character is very strongly discriminated. Upton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, has discovered that the language of Antony is, with great skill and learning, made pompous and superb, according to his real practice. But I think his diction not distinguishable from that of others: the most tumid speech in the play is that which Cæsar makes to Octavio. The events, of which the principal are de scribed according to history, are produced without any art of connexion or care of disposition. TIMON OF ATHENS. art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and exact. The catastrophe affords a very powerful warning against that ostentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, but confers no benefits, and buys flattery, but not friendship. The historical dramas are now concluded, of which the two parts of "Henry the Fourth," The play of "Timon" is a domestic tragedy, and "Henry the Fifth," are among the happiest and therefore strongly fastens on the attention of our author's compositions; and "King John," of the reader. In the plan there is not much "Richard the Third," and "Henry the Eighth," deservedly stand in the second class. Those whose curiosity would refer the historical scenes to their original, may consult Hollinshed, and sometimes Hall: from Hollinshed, Shakspeare has often inserted whole speeches with no more alteration than was necessary to the numbers of his verse. To transcribe them into the margin was unnecessary, because the original is easily examined, and they are seldom less perspicuous in the poet than in the historian. To play.histories, or to exhibit a succession of events by action and dialogue, was a common entertainment among our rude ancestors, upon great festivities. The parish clerks once performed at Clerkenwell a play which lasted three days, containing "The History of the World." CORIOLANUS. In this tragedy are many passages perplexed, obscure, and probably corrupt, which I have endeavoured to rectify, or explain, with due diligence; but having only one copy, cannot promise myself that my endeavours shall be much applauded. TITUS ANDRONICUS. All the editors and critics agree with Mr, Theobald in supposing this play spurious. I see no reason for differing from them; for the colour of the style is wholly different from that of the other plays, and there is an attempt at regular versification, and artificial closes, not always inThe tragedy of "Coriolanus" is one of the elegant, yet seldom pleasing. The barbarity of most amusing of our author's performances. the spectacles, and the general massacre, which The old man's merriment in Menenius; the are here exhibited, can scarcely be conceived lofty lady's dignity in Volumnia; the bridal tolerable to any audience; yet we are told by modesty in Virgilia; the patrician and military Jonson, that they were not only borne, but haughtness in Coriolanus; the plebeian malig-praised. That Shakspeare wrote any part, nity, and tribunitian insolence, in Brutus and though Theobald declares it incontestible, I see Sicinius, make a very pleasing and interesting no reason for believing. variety and the various revolutions of the hero's fortune fill the mind with anxious curiosity. There is, perhaps, too much bustle in the first act, and too little in the last. : JULIUS CESAR. Of this tragedy many particular passages deserve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus and Cassius is universally celebrated; but I have never been strongly agitated in perusing it, and think it somewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of The testimony produced at the beginning of this play, by which it is ascribed to Shakspeare, is by no means equal to the argument against its authenticity, arising from the total difference of conduct, language, and sentiments, by which it stands apart from all the rest. Meres had probably no other evidence than that of a titlepage, which though in our time it be sufficient, was then of no great authority; for all the plays which were rejected by the first collectors of Shakspeare's works, and admitted in later editions, and again rejected by the critical editors, had Shakspeare's name on the title, as we may | the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce suppose, by the fraudulence of the printers, who, a line which does not conduce to the progress of while there were yet no gazettes, nor advertise- the scene. So powerful is the current of the ments, nor any means of circulating literary poet's imagination, that the mind which once intelligence, could usurp at pleasure any cele-ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along. brated name. Nor had Shakspeare any interest On the seeming improbability of Lear's conin detecting the imposture, as none of his fame or profit was produced by the press. The chronology of this play does not prove it not to be Shakspeare's. If it had been written twenty-five years in 1614, it might have been written when Shakspeare was twenty-five years old. When he left Warwickshire I know not; but at the age of twenty-five it was rather too late to fly for deer-stealing. Ravenscroft, who in the reign of Charles II. revised this play, and restored it to the stage, tells us, in his preface, from a theatrical tradition, I suppose, which in his time might be of sufficient authority, that this play was touched in different parts by Shakspeare, but written by some other poet. I do not find Shakspeare's touches very discernible. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. This play is more correctly written than most of Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of those in which either the extent of his views or elevation of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story abounded with materials, he has ex erted little invention; but he has diversified his characters with great variety, and preserved them with great exactness. His vicious characters sometimes disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and The comic characters seem to have been the favourites of the writer; they are of the superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners than nature; but they are copiously filled, and powerfully impressed. contemned. Shakspeare has in his story followed for the greater part the old book of Caxton, which was then very popular: but the character of Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof that this play was written after Chapman had published his version of Homer CYMBELINE. duct, it may be observed, that he is represented according to histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such conditions, would be yet credible, if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, by the mention of his earls and dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by softer manners; and the truth is, that though he so nicely discriminates, and so minutely describes, the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs, ancient and modern, Eng lish and foreign. too savage My learned friend Mr. Warton, who has in «The Adventurer" very minutely criticised this play, remarks, that the instances of cruelty are and shocking, and the intervention of Edmund destroys the simplicity of the story. These objections may, I think, be answered, by repeating, that the cruelty of the daughters is an historical fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series by dialogue and action. But I am not able to apoloGloster's eyes, which seems an act too horrid to gize with equal plausibility for the extrusion of be endured in dramatic exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let it be remembered, that our author well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote. The injury done by Edmund to the simpli city of the action, is abundantly recompensed by the addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief design, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters, to imThis play has many just sentiments, some na-press this important moral, that villany is never tural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation. KING LEAR. at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last terminate in ruin. But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakspeare has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more strange, to the faith of chroni cles. Yet this conduct is justified by "The Spectator," who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and happiness in his alteration, and declares, that in his opinion the tragedy has lost The tragedy of "Lear" is deservedly_cele-half its beauty. Dennis has remarked, whether brated among the dramas of Shakspeare. There justly or not, that, to secure the favourable reis perhaps no play which keeps the attention so ception of "Cato" the town was poisoned with strongly fixed; which so much agitates our much false and abominable criticism, and that enpassions and interests our curiosity. The art-deavours had been used to discredit and decry ful involutions of distinct interests, the striking opposition of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the quick succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to the aggravation of poetical justice. A play in which the wicked prosper, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of the common events of human life: but since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot easily be persuaded, that the observation of justice makes a play worse; or that, if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue. In the present case the public has decided. Cordelia, from the time of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add any thing to the general suffrage, I might relate, I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor. There is another controversy among the critics concerning this play. It is disputed whether the predominant image in Lear's disordered mind be the loss of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, a very judicious critic, has evinced by induction of particular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary source of his distress, and that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would move our compassion but little, did we not rather consider the injured father than the degraded king. The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom Hollinshed generally copied but perhaps immediately from an old historical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is that the ballad has nothing of Shakspeare's nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifications: it first hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added something to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if more had occurred to his mind, and more must have occured if he had seen Shakspeare. ROMEO AND JULIET. This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The scenes are busy and various, the incidents numerous and important, the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action carried on with such probability, at least with such congruity to popular opinions, as tragedy requires. the ability of Shakspeare to have continued his existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime. The nurse is one of the characters in which the author delighted; he has with great subtility of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest. His comic scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetic strains are always polluted with some unexpected depravations. His persons, however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable conceit. HAMLET. If the dramas of Shakspeare were to be cha racterised, each by the particular excellence which distinguishes it from the rest, we must allow to the tragedy of "Hamlet" the praise of variety. The incidents are so numerous, that the argument of the play would make a long tale. The scenes are interchangeably diversified with merriment and solemnity; with merriment, that includes judicious and instructive observations; and solemnity, not strained by poetical violence above the natural sentiments of man. New characters appear from time to time in continual succession, exhibiting various forms of life and particular modes of conversation. The pretended madness of Hamlet causes much mirth, the mournful distraction of Ophelia fills the heart with tenderness, and every personage produces the effect intended, from the apparation that in the first act chills the blood with horror, to the fop in the last that exposes affectation to just contempt. The conduct is perhaps not wholly secure against objections. The action is indeed for the most part in continual progression, but there are some scenes which neither forward nor retard it. Of the feigned madness of Hamlet there appears no adequate cause, for he does nothing which he might not have done with the reputation of sanity. He plays the madman most, when he treats Ophelia with so much rudeness, which seems to be useless and wanton cruelty. Hamlet is, through the whole piece, rather an instrument than an agent. After he has, by the stratagem of the play, convicted the king, he makes no attempt to punish him; and his death is at last effected by an incident which Hamlet had no part in producing. The catastrophe is not very happily produced; the exchange of weapons is rather an expedient of necessity, than a stroke of art. A scheme might easily have been formed to kill Hamlet with the dagger, and Laertes with the bowl. Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to exhibit the conversation of gentlemen, to represent the airy sprightliness of juvenile elegance. Mr. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of a declaration made by Shakspeare, that "he was obliged to kill Mercutio in the third act, lest he should have been killed by him." Yet he thinks him "no such formidable person but that he might have lived through the play, and died in his bed," without danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth, that in a pointed sentence, more regard is commonly had to the words than the thought, and that it is very seldom to be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, gayety, and courage, will always procure him friends that wish him a longer life; but his death is not precipitated, he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the play; nor do I doubt | less, and the pious. The poet is accused of having shown little regard to poetical justice, and may be charged with equal neglect of poetical probability. The apparition left the regions of the dead to little purpose; the revenge which he demands is not obtained, but by the death of him that was required to take it; and the gratification, which would arise from the destruction of an usurper and a murderer, is abated, by the untimely death of Ophelia, the young, the beautiful, the harm OTHELLO. The beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly upon the attention of the reader, that they can draw no aid from critical illustration. The fiery openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and credulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection, inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge: the cool malignity of Iago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his designs, and studious at once of his interest and his vengeance: the soft simplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her artless perseverance in her suit, and her slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, are such proofs of Shakspeare's skill in human nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer. The gradual progress which Iago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are so artfully natural, that, though it will perhaps not be said of him as he says of himself, that he is a man not easily jealous, yet we cannot but pity him, when at last we find him perplexed in the extreme. There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities, should steal upon esteem, though it misses of approbation; but the character of Iago is so conducted, that he is from the first scene to the last hated and despised. Even the inferior characters of this play would be very conspicuous in any other piece, not only for their justness, but their strength. Cassio is brave, benevolent, and honest, ruined only by his want of stubbornness to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and impatient submission to the cheats which he sees practised upon him, and which by persuasion he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong picture of a weak mind betrayed by unlawful desires to a false friend; and the virtue of Emilia is such as we often find worn loosely, but not cast off, easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at atrocious villanies. The scenes from the beginning to the end are busy, varied by happy interchanges, and regu larly promoting the progression of the story; and the narrative in the end, though it tells but what is known already, yet is necessary to produce the death of Othello. Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been occasionally related, there had been little wanting to a drama of the most exact and scrupulous regularity, AN ACCOUNT OF THE HARLEIAN LIBRARY. To solicit a subscription for a Catalogue of the studious, that it excels any library that was Books exposed to sale, is an attempt for which ever yet offered to public sale in the value as some apology cannot but be necessary; for few well as number of the volumes which it contains; would willingly contribute to the expense of and that therefore this catalogue will not be of volumes, by which neither instruction nor enter-less use to men of letters, than those of the Thu tainment could be afforded, from which only the bookseller could expect advantage, and of which the only use must cease, at the dispersion of the library. anian, Heinsian, or Barberinian libraries, it may not be improper to exhibit a general account of the different classes, as they are naturally divided by the several sciences. Nor could the reasonableness of a universal By this method we can indeed exhibit only a rejection of our proposal be denied, if this cata-general idea, at once magnificent and confused; logue were to be compiled with no other view, an idea of the writings of many nations, collect than that of promoting the sale of the books ed from distant parts of the world, discovered which it enumerates, and drawn up with that sometimes by chance, and sometimes by curiinaccuracy and confusion which may be found osity, amidst the rubbish of forsaken monasteries, in those that are daily published. and the repositories of ancient families, and brought hither from every part, as to the universal receptacle of learning. But our design, like our proposal, is uncommon, and to be prosecuted at a very uncommon expense; it being intended, that the books shall It will be no unpleasing effect of this account, be distributed into their distinct classes, and if those that shall happen to peruse it, should every class ranged with some regard to the be inclined by it to reflect on the character of age of the writers; that every book shall be accu- the late proprietors, and to pay some tribute of rately described; that the peculiarities of editions veneration to their ardour for literature, to that shall be remarked, and observations from the generous and exalted curiosity which they gratiauthors of literary history occasionally inter-fied with incessant searches and immense exspersed; that, by this catalogue, we may inform pense, and to which they dedicated that time, posterity of the excellence and value of this great and that superfluity of fortune, which many collection, and promote the knowledge of scarce books, and elegant editions. For this purpose men of letters are engaged, who cannot even be supplied with amanuenses, but at an expense above that of a common catalogue. To show that this collection deserves a particular degree of regard from the learned and others of their rank employ in the pursuit of contemptible amusements, or the gratification of guilty passions. And, surely, every man, who considers learning as ornamental and advantageous to the community, must allow them the honour of public benefactors, who have introduced amongst us authors not hitherto well known, and added to the literary treasures of That our catalogue will excite any other man to emulate the collectors of this library, to prefer books and manuscripts to equipage and luxury, and to forsake noise and diversion for the conversation of the learned, and the satisfaction of extensive knowledge, we are very far from presuming to hope; but shall make no scruple to assert, that, if any man should happen to be seized with such laudable ambition, he may find in this catalogue hints and informations, which are not easily to be met with; he will discover, that the boasted Bodleian library is very far from a perfect model, and that even the learned Fabricius cannot completely instruct him in the early editions of the classic writers. But the collectors of libraries cannot be numerous; and, therefore, catalogues cannot very properly be recommended to the public, if they had not a more general and frequent use, a use which every student has experienced, or neglected to his loss. By the means of catalogues only can it be known, what has been written on every part of learning, and the hazard avoided of encountering difficulties which have already been cleared, discussing questions which have already been decided, and digging in mines of literature which former ages have exhausted. How often this has been the fate of students, every man of letters can declare; and, perhaps, there are very few who have not sometimes valued as new discoveries, made by themselves, those observations which have long since been published, and of which the world therefore will refuse them the praise; nor can the refusal be censured as any enormous violation of justice; for, why should they not forfeit by their ignorance, what they might claim by their sagacity? To illustrate this remark, by the mention of obscure names, would not much confirm it; and to villify for this purpose the memory of men truly great, would be to deny them the reverence which they may justly claim from those whom their writings have instructed. May the shade, at least, of one great English critic rest without disturbance; and may no man presume to insult his memory, who wants his learning, his reason, or his wit. From the vexatious disappointment of meeting reproach, where praise is expected, every man will certainly desire to be secured; and therefore that book will have some claim to his regard, from which he may receive informations of the labours of his predecessors, such as a catalogue of the Harleian library will copiously afford him. 493 ceed each other; by what accident the most the dawn of science, and how learning has langloomy nights of ignorance have given way to guished and decayed, for want of patronage and regard, or been overborne by the prevalence of fashionable ignorance, or lost amidst the tumults of invasion and the storms of violence. those who desire any knowledge of the literary transactions of past ages, may find in catalogues, like this at least, such an account as is given by annalists and chronologers of civil history. All been diffused, will be observed from the cataHow the knowledge of the sacred writings has logue of the various editions of the Bible, from the first impression by Fust, in 1462, to the present time; in which will be contained the polyof the original Hebrew, the Greek Septuagint, glot editions of Spain, France, and England, those and the Latin Vulgate with the versions which are now used in the remotest parts of Europe, in the country of the Grisons, in Lithuania, Bohemia, Finland, and Iceland. made in our country, there are few whose exWith regard to the attempts of the same kind pectations will not be exceeded by the number of English bibles, of which not one is forgotten, whether valuable for the pomp and beauty of the impression, or for the notes with which the text secution that it produced, or for the peculiarity is accompanied, or for any controversy or perof any single passage. With the same care have the various editions of the book of commonprayer been selected, from which all the alterations which have been made in it may be easily remarked. and breviaries, remarkable for the beauty of Among a great number of Roman missals their cuts and illuminations, will be found the Mosarabic missal and breviary, that raised such commotions in the kingdom of Spain. about the time of the Reformation, have been The controversial treaties written in England, diligently collected, with a multitude of remarkable tracts, single sermons, and small treatises; which, however worthy to be preserved, are perhaps to be found in no other place. collectors of this library, to that remarkable peThe regard which was always paid by the riod of time in which the art of printing was ancient impressions of the fathers of the church; invented, determined them to accumulate the to which the later editions are added, lest antiquity should have seemed more worthy of esteem than accuracy. due to that study by which the manners are Nor is the use of catalogues of less importance to those whom curiosity has engaged in the study of literary history, and who think the intellectual revolutions of the world more worthy of their attention than the ravages of tyrants, the desolation of kingdoms, the rout of armies, tory have been procured that treat of the state Not only those authors of ecclesiastical hisand the fall of empires. Those who are pleased of religion in general, or deliver accounts of sects with observing the first birth of new opinions, or nations, but those likewise who have confined their struggles against opposition, their silent progress under persecution, their general reception, and their gradual decline, or sudden extinction; those that amuse themselves with remarking the different periods of human knowledge, and observe how darkness and light suc themselves to particular orders of men in every |