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Johnson was certainly a very good scholar, and in that had the advantage of Shakespeare; though at the fame time I believe it must be allowed; that what Nature gave the latter, was more than a balance for what books had given the former; and the judgment of a great man upon this occafion was, I think, very juft and proper. In a converfation between Sir John Sucking, Sir William d'Avenant, Endymion Porter, Mr. Hales of Eaton, and Ben Johnson, Sir John Suckling, who was a profeffed admirer of Shakespeare, had undertaken his defence againft Ben Johnson with fome warmth; Mr. Hales, who had fat ftill for fome time, told them, That if Mr. Shakespeare bad not read the ancients, be had likewife no ftolen any thing from them; and that if he would produce any one topic finely treated by any of them, he would undertake to fhew fomething upon the fame. fubject, at least as well written by Shakespeare.

The latter part of his life was spent, as all men of good fenfe will with theirs may be, in eafe, retirement, and the converfation of his friends. He had the good fortune to gather an eftate equal to his occafion, and, in that, to his wifh; and is faid to have spent fome years before his death at his native Stratford. His pleasurable wit and good-nature engaged him in the acquaintance, and intitled him to the friendship of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. Amongit them, it is a ftory almoft ftill remembered in that country, that he had a particular intimacy with Mr. Combe, an old gentleman noted thereabouts for his wealth and usury. It happened, that in a pleasant converfation amongst their common friends, Mr. Combe told Shakespeare in a laughing manner, that he fancied he intended to write his epitaph, if he happened to outlive him; and fince he could not know what might be faid of him when he was dead, he defired it might be done immediately. Upon which Shakespeare gave him thefe four verses.

Ten in the hundred lies here ingrad,

'Tis a hundred to ten his foul is not fav'd.
If any man afk, Who lies in this tomb?
Ob! ho! quoth the devil, 'tis my Job-a-Combe.

But

But the fharpnefs of the fatyr is faid to have ftung the = man fo feverely, that he never forgave it.

1

He died in the fifty-third year of his age, and was à buried on the north fide of the chancel, in the great : church at Stratford; where a monument is placed in the wall. On his grave-stone underneath is,

Good friend, for Jefus' fake forbear
To dig the duft inclofed here.

Blefs'd be the man that fpares thefe ftones,
And curs'd be he that moves my bones.

He had three daughters, of which two lived to be mar ried; Judith, the elder, to one Mr. Thomas Quiney, by whom she had three fons, who all died without children; and Sufannah, who was his favourite, to Dr John Hall, a phyfician of good reputation in that country. She left one child only, a daughter, who was married first to Thomas Nafh, Efq; and afterwards to Sir John Bernard of Abbington, but died likewife with1 out iffue.

This is what I could learn of any note, either relating to himself or family. The character of the man is best feen in his writings. But fince Ben Johnfon, has made a fort of an effay towards it in his Difcoveries, I will give it in his words.

"I remember the players have often mentioned it as "an honour to Shakespeare, that in writing, whatfo"ever. he penned, he never blotted out a line. My "answer hath been, Would he had blotted a thousand! "which they thought a malevolent fpeech. I had not "told pofterity this, but for their ignorance, who chose "that circumstance to commend their friend by, where"in he most faulted; and to juftify mine own candour; for I loved the man, and do honour his memory, on "this fide idolatry, as much as any. He was indeed "honeft, and of an open and free nature; had an ex "cellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expreffions; "wherein he flowed with that facility, that fometimes. "it was neceffary he fhould be ftopped: Sufflaminandus erat, as Auguftus faid of Haterius. His wit was in "his own power, would the rule of it had been fo too.

Many

"Many times he fell into those things which could not "efcape laughter; as when he faid in the perfon of Ca"far, one fpeaking to him,

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"He replied,

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Cafar, thou doft me wrong.

Cafar did never wrong, but with just caufe

"and fuch like, which were ridiculous. But he re"deemed his vices with his virtues: there was "more in him to be praised than to be pardoned."

ever

As for the paffage which he mentions out of Shakefpeare, there is fomewhat like it in Julius Cæfar, but without the abfurdity; nor did I ever meet with it in any edition that I have feen, as quoted by Mr. Johnson. Befides his plays in this edition, there are two or three afcribed to him by Mr. Langbain, which I have never feen, and know nothing of. He writ likewife Venus and Adonis, and Tarquin and Lucrete, in ftanza's, which have been printed in a late collection of poems. As to the character given of him by Ben Johnson, there is a good deal true in it: but I believe it may be as well ex preffed by what Horace fays of the firft Romans, who wrote tragedy upon the Greek models, (or indeed tranflated them,) in his epiftle to Auguftus.

-Natura fublimis & acer,

Nam fpirat tragicum fatis

feliciter audet, Sed turpem putat in chartis metuitque lituram.

As

If ever there was such a line written by Shakespeare, I shouldTM fancy it might have its place vol. 7. p. 44. after line 32, thus:

Cafar has bad great wrong.

3 Pleb. Cafar had never wrong, but with just cause.

and very humorously in the character of a Plebeian. One might be lieve Ben Johnson's remark was made upon no better credit than fome blunder of an actor in fpeaking that verfe near the beginning of the third Act, p. 34. l. 41. 42.

Know, Cafar doth not wrong; nor without caufe
Will he be fatisfied.-

But the verfe, as cited by Ben Johnson, does not connect with will
he be fatisfied. Perhaps this play was never printed in Ben Johnson's
time, and fo he had nothing to judge by but as the actor pleased to
Speak it.
Mr. Fope.

As I have not propofed to myself to enter into a large and complete collection upon Shakefpeare's works, fo I will only take the liberty, with all due fubmiffion to the judgment of others, to obferve fome of those things I have been pleased with in looking him over.

His plays are properly to be diftinguished only into comedies and tragedies. Thofe which are called histories, and even some of his comedies, are really tragedies, with a run or mixture of comedy amongst them. That way of tragi-comedy was the common mistake of that age; and is indeed become fo agreeable to the English tafte, that though the severer critics among us cannot bear it, yet the generality of our audiences feem to be better pleased with it than with an exact tragedy. The Merry Wives of Windfor, The Comedy of Errors, and The Taming of the Shrew, are all pure comedy; the reft, however they are called, have fomething of both kinds. 'Tis not very easy to determine which way of writing he was most excellent in. There is certainly a great deal of entertainment in his comical humours; and though they did not then strike at all ranks of people, as the fatyr of the present age has taken the liberty to do; yet there is a pleafing and a well distinguished variety in thofe characters which he thought fit to meddle with. Falstaff is allowed by every body to be a masterpiece. The character is always well fuftained, though drawn out into the length of three plays: and even the account of his death, given by his old landlady Mrs. Quickly, in the first Act of Henry V. though it be extremely natural, is yet as diverting as any part of his life. If there be any fault in the draught he has made of this lewd old fellow, it is, that though he has made him a thief, lying, cowardly, vain-glorious, and in fhort every way vicious, yet he has given him fo much wit as to make him almost too agreeable; and I don't know whether fome people have not, in remembrance of the diverfion he had formerly afforded them, been forry to fee his friend Hal ufe him fo fcurvily, when he comes to the crown in the end of the fecond part of Henry IV. mongst other extravagances, in The Merry Wives of Windfor, he has made him a deer-stealer, that he might at the fame tine remember his Warwickshire profecu

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tor,

tor, under the name of Justice Shallow. He has given him very near the fame coat of arms which Dugdale, in his antiquities of that county, defcribes for a family there, and makes the Welsh parson descant very pleafantly upon them. That whole play is admirable; the humours are various, and well opposed: the main defign, which is to cure Ford of his unreasonable jealousy, is extremely well conducted. In Twelfth Night there is fomething fingularly ridiculous and pleasant in the fantaftical fteward Malvolio. The parafite and the vainglorious in Parolles, in All's well that ends well, is as good as any thing of that kind in Plautus or Terence. Petruchio, in The Taming of the Shrew, is an uncommon piece of humour. The converfation of Benedick and Beatrice, in Much ado about nothing, and of Rofalind in As you like it, have much wit and sprightlinefs all along. His clowns, without which character there was hardly any play writ in that time, are all very entertaining: and I believe Therfites in Troilus and Creffida, and Ape mantus in Timon, will be allowed to be masterpieces of ill-nature and fatyrical snarling. To thefe I might add that incomparable character of Shylock the Jew, in The Merchant of Venice. But though we have seen that play received and acted as a comedy, and the part of the Jew performed by an excellent comedian, yet I cannot but think it was defigned tragically by the author. There appears in it fuch a deadly spirit of revenge, fuch a favage fiercenefs and fellnefs, and fuch a bloody defignation of cruelty and mifchief, as cannot agree either with the ftyle or characters of comedy. The play itself, take it altogether, feems to me to be one of the moft finished of any of Shakespeare's. The tale indeed, in that part relating to the cafkets, and the extravagant and unusual kind of bond given by Antonio, is too much removed from the rules of probability. But, taking the fact for granted, we must allow it to be very beautifully written. There is fomething in the friendfhip of Antonio to Baffanio very great, generous, and tender. The whole fourth Act (fuppofing, as I faid, the fact to be probable) is extremely fine. But there are two paffages that deferve a particular notice. The first is, what Portio fays in praife of Mercy, and the other on

the

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