For what can be more ridiculous, than, in our modern Writers, to make a debauch’d young Man, immers’d in all the Vices of his Age and Time, in a few hours take up, confine himself in the way of Honour to one Woman, and moralize in good earnest on the Follies of his past Behaviour? Nor can, that great Examplar of Comic Writing, Terence be altogether excused in this Regard; who, in his Adelphi, has left Demea in the last Scenes so unlike himself: whom, as Shakespeare expresses it, he has turn’d with the seamy Side of his Wit outward. This Conduct, as Errors are more readily imitated than Perfections, Beaumont and Fletcher seem to have follow’d in a Character in their Scornful Lady. It may be objected, perhaps, by some who do not go to the Bottom of our Poet’s Conduct, that he has likewise transgress’d against the Rule himself, by making Prince Harry at once, upon coming to the Crown, throw off his former Dissoluteness, and take up the Practice of a sober Morality and all the kingly Virtues. But this would be a mistaken Objection. The Prince’s Reformation is not so sudden, as not to be prepar’d and expected by the Audience. He gives, indeed, a Loose to Vanity, and a light unweigh’d Behaviour, when he is trifling among his dissolute Companions; but the Sparks of innate Honour and true Nobleness break from him upon every proper Occasion, where we would hope to see him awake to Sentiments suiting his Birth and Dignity. And our Poet has so well, and artfully, guarded his Character from the Suspicions of habitual and unreformable Profligateness; that even from the first shewing him upon the Stage, in the first Part of Henry IV, when he made him consent to join with Falstaffe in a Robbery on the Highway, he has taken care not to carry him off the Scene, without an Intimation that he knows them all, and their unyok’d Humour; and that, like the Sun, he will permit them only for a while to obscure and cloud his Brightness; then break thro’ the Mist, when he pleases to be himself again; that his Lustre, when wanted, may be the more wonder’d at.

Another of Shakespeare’s grand Touches of Nature, and which lies still deeper from the Ken of common Observation, has been taken notice of in a Note upon The Tempest; where Prospero at once interrupts the Masque of Spirits, and starts into a sudden Passion and Disorder of Mind. As the latent Cause of his Emotion is there fully inquir’d into, I shall no farther dwell upon it here.

Such a Conduct in a Poet (as Shakespeare has manifested on many like Occasions;) where the Turn of Action arises from Reflexions of his Characters, where the Reason of it is not express’d in Words, but drawn from the inmost Resources of Nature, shews him truly capable of that Art, which is more in Rule than Practice: Ars est celare Artem. ’Tis the Foible of your worser Poets to make a Parade and Ostentation of that little Science they have; and to throw it out in the most ambitious Colours. And whenever a Writer of this Class shall attempt to copy these artful Concealments of our Author, and shall either think them easy, or practised by a Writer for his Ease, he will soon be convinced of his Mistake by the Difficulty of reaching the Imitation of them.

Another grand Touch of Nature in our Author, (not less difficult to imitate, tho’ more obvious to the Remark of a common Reader) is, when he brings down at once any Character from the Ferment and Height of Passion, makes him correct himself for the unruly Disposition, and fall into Reflexions of a sober and moral Tenour. An exquisite fine Instance of this Kind occurs in Lear, where that old King, hasty and intemperate in his Passions, coming to his Son and Daughter Cornwall, is told by the Earl of Gloucester that they are not to be spoken with: and thereupon throws himself into a Rage, supposing the Excuse of Sickness and Weariness in them to be a purpos’d Contempt: Gloucester begs him to think of the fiery and unremoveable Quality of the Duke: and This, which was design’d to qualify his Passion, serves to exaggerate the Transports of it.

As the Conduct of Prince Henry in the first Instance, the secret and mental Reflexions in the Case of Prospero, and the instant Detour of Lear from the Violence of Rage to a Temper of Reasoning, do so much Honour to that surprizing Knowledge of human Nature, which is certainly our Author’s Masterpiece, I thought, they could not be set in too good a Light. Indeed, to point out, and exclaim upon, all the Beauties of Shakespeare, as they come singly in Review, would be as insipid, as endless; as tedious, as unnecessary: But the Explanation of those Beauties, that are less obvious to common Readers, and whose Illustration depends on the Rules of just Criticism, and an exact Knowledge of human Life, should deservedly have a Share in a general Critic upon the Author.

I shall dismiss the Examination into these his latent Beauties, when I have made a short Comment upon a remarkable Passage from Julius Cæsar, which is inexpressibly fine in its self, Mr. Addison and He compared, on a similar Topick. and greatly discovers our Author’s Knowledge and Researches into Nature.

That nice Critick Dionysius of Halicarnassus confesses, that he could not find those great Strokes, which he calls the terrible Graces, in any of the Historians, which he frequently met with in Homer. I believe, the Success would be the same likewise, if we sought for them in any other of our Authors besides our British Homer, Shakespeare. This Description of the Condition of Conspirators has a Pomp and Terror in it, that perfectly astonishes. Our excellent Mr. Addison, whose Modesty made him sometimes diffident in his own Genius, but whose exquisite Judgment always led him to the safest Guides, as we may see by those many fine Strokes in his Cato borrow’d from the Philippics of Cicero, has paraphrased this fine Description; but we are no longer to expect those terrible Graces, which he could not hinder from evaporating in the Transfusion.

I shall observe two Things on this fine Imitation: first, that the Subjects of these two Conspiracies being so very different, (the Fortunes of Cæsar and the Roman Empire being concern’d in the First; and That of only a few Auxiliary Troops, in the other;) Mr. Addison could not with Propriety bring in that magnificent Circumstance, which gives the terrible Grace to Shakespeare’s Description.

For Kingdoms, in the poetical Theology, besides their good, have their evil Genius’s likewise: represented here with the most daring Stretch of Fancy, as fitting in Council with the Conspirators, whom he calls the mortal Instruments. But this Would have been too great an Apparatus to the Rape, and Desertion, of Syphax, and Sempronius. Secondly, The other Thing very observable is, that Mr. Addison was so warm’d and affected with the Fire of Shakespeare’s Description; that, instead of copying his Author’s Sentiments, he has, before he was aware, given us only the Image of his own Impressions on the reading his great Original. For,

are but the Affections raised by such forcible Images as these;

Comparing the Mind of a Conspirator to an Anarchy, is just and beautiful; but the Interim to a hideous Dream has something in it so wonderfully natural, and lays the human Soul so open, that one cannot but be surpriz’d, that any Poet, who had not himself been, some time or other, engaged in a Conspiracy, could ever have given such Force of Colouring to Truth and Nature.

The Question on Shakespeare’s Learning handled. It has been allow’d on all hands, far our Author was indebted to Nature; it is not so well agreed, how much he ow’d to Languages and acquir’d Learning. The Decisions on this Subject were certainly set on Foot by the Hint from Ben Jonson, that he had small Latin and less Greek: And from this Tradition, as it were, Mr. Rowe has thought fit peremptorily to declare, that, “It is without Controversy, he had no Knowledge of the Writings of the ancient Poets, for that in his Works we find no Traces of any thing which looks like an Imitation of the Ancients. For the Delicacy of his Taste (continues He,) and the natural Bent of his own great Genius (equal, if not superior, to some of the Best of theirs;) would certainly have led him to read and study them with so much Pleasure, that some of their fine Images would naturally have insinuated themselves into, and been mix’d with, his own Writings: so that his not copying, at least, something from them, may be an Argument of his never having read them.” I shall leave it to the Determination of my Learned Readers, from the numerous Passages, which I have occasionally quoted in my Notes, in which our Poet seems closely to have imitated the Classics, whether Mr. Rowe’s Assertion be so absolutely to be depended on. The Result of the Controversy must certainly, either way, terminate to our Author’s Honour: how happily he could imitate them, if that Point be allow’d; or how gloriously he could think like them, without owing any thing to Imitation.

Tho’ I should be very unwilling to allow Shakespeare so poor a Scholar, as Many have labour’d to represent him, yet I shall be very cautious of declaring too positively on the other side of the Question: that is, with regard to my Opinion of his Knowledge in the dead Languages. And therefore the Passages, that I occasionally quote from the Classics, shall not be urged as Proofs that he knowingly imitated those Originals; but brought to shew how happily he has express’d himself upon the same Topicks. A very learned Critick of our own Nation has declar’d, that a Sameness of Thought and Sameness of Expression too, in Two Writers of a different Age, can hardly happen, without a violent Suspicion of the Latter copying from his Predecessor. I shall not therefore run any great Risque of a Censure, tho’ I should venture to hint, that the Resemblance, in Thought and Expression, of our Author and an Ancient (which we should allow to be Imitation in One, whose Learning was not question’d) may sometimes take its Rise from Strength of Memory, and those Impressions which he ow’d to the School. And if we may allow a Possibility of This, considering that, when he quitted the School, he gave into his Father’s Profession and way of Living, and had, ’tis likely, but a slender Library of Classical Learning; and considering what a Number of Translations, Romances, and Legends, started about his Time, and a little before; (most of which,’tis very evident, he read;) I think, it may easily be reconcil’d, why he rather schemed his Plots and Charaters from these more latter Informations, than went back to those Fountains, for which he might entertain a sincere Veneration, but to which he could not have so ready a Recourse.

In touching on another Part of his Learning, as it related to the Knowledge of History and Books, I shall advance something, that, at first sight, will very much wear the Appearance of a Paradox. For I shall find it no hard Matter to prove, that from the grossest Blunders in History, we are not to infer his real Ignorance of it: Nor from a greater Use of Latin Words, than ever any other English Author used, must we infer his Knowledge of that Language.

A Reader of Taste may easily observe, that tho’ Shakespeare, almost in every Scene of his historical Plays, commits the grossest Offences against Chronology, History, and Antient Politicks; yet This was not thro’ Ignorance, as is generally supposed, but thro’ the too powerful Blaze of his Imagination; which, when once raised, made all acquired Knowledge vanish and disappear before it. For Instance, in his Timon, he turns Athens, which was a perfect Democracy, into an Aristocracy; while he ridiculously gives a Senator the Power of banishing Alcibiades. On the contrary, in Coriolanus, he makes Rome, which at that time was a perfect Aristocracy, a Democracy full as ridiculously, by making the People choose Coriolanus Consul: Whereas, in Fact, it was not till the Time of Manlius Torquatus, that the People had a Right of choosing one Consul. But this Licence in him, as I have said, must not be imputed to Ignorance: since as often we may find him, when Occasion serves, reasoning up to the Truth of History; and throwing out Sentiments as justly adapted to the Circumstances of his Subject, as to the Dignity of his Characters, or Dictates of Nature in general.

Then, to come to his Knowledge of the Latin Tongue, ’tis certain, there is a surprising Effusion of Latin Words made English, far more than in any one English Author I have seen; but we must be cautious to imagine, this was of his own doing. For the English Tongue, in his Age, began extremely to suffer by an Inundation of Latin; and to be overlaid, as it were, by its Nurse, when it had just began to speak by her before-prudent Care and Assistance. And this, to be sure, was occasion’d by the Pedantry of those two Monarchs, Elizabeth and James, Both great Latinists. For it is not to be wonder’d at, if both the Court and Schools, equal Flatterers of Power, should adapt themselves to the Royal Taste. This, then, was the Condition of the English Tongue when Shakespeare took it up: like a Beggar in a rich Wardrobe. He found the pure native English too cold and poor to second the Heat and Abundance of his Imagination: and therefore was forc’d to dress it up in the Robes, he saw provided for it: rich in themselves, but ill-shaped; cut out to an air of Magnificence, but disproportion’d and cumbersome. To the Costliness of Ornament, he added all the Graces and Decorum of it. It may be said, this did not require, or discover a Knowledge of the Latin. To the first, I think, it did not; to the second, it is so far from discovering it, that, I think, it discovers the contrary. To make This more obvious by a modern Instance: The great Milton likewise labour’d under the like Inconvenience; when he first set upon adorning his own Tongue, he likewise animated and enrich’d it with the Latin, but from his own Stock: and so, rather by bringing in the Phrases, than the Words: And This was natural; and will, I believe, always be the Case in the same Circumstances. His Language, especially his Prose, is full of Latin Words indeed, but much fuller of Latin Phrases: and his Mastery in the Tongue made this unavoidable. On the contrary, Shakespeare, who, perhaps, was not so intimately vers’d in the Language, abounds in the Words of it, but has few or none of its Phrases: Nor, indeed, if what I affirm be true, could He. This I take to be the truest Criterion to determine this long agitated Question.

It may be mention’d, tho’ no certain Conclusion can be drawn from it, as a probable Argument of his having read the Antients; that He perpetually expresses the Genius of Homer, and other great Poets of the Old World, in animating all the Parts of his Descriptions; and, by bold and breathing Metaphors and Images, giving the Properties of Life and Action to inanimate Things. He is a Copy too of those Greek Masters in the infinite use of compound and de-compound Epithets. I will not, indeed, aver, but that One with Shakespeare’s exquisite Genius and Observation might have traced these glaring Characteristics of Antiquity by reading Homer in Chapman’s Version.

B. Jonson and Shakespeare compar’d. An additional Word or two naturally falls in here upon the Genius of our Author, as compared with that of Jonson his Contemporary. They are confessedly the greatest Writers our Nation could ever boast of in the Drama. The first, we say, owed all to his prodigious natural Genius; and the other a great deal to his Art and Learning. This, if attended to, will explain a very remarkable Appearance in their Writings. Besides those wonderful Masterpieces of Art and Genius, which each has given Us; They are the Authors of other Works very unworthy of them: But with this Difference; that in Jonson’s bad Pieces we don’t discover one single Trace of the Author of the Fox and Alchemist: but in the wild extravagant Notes of Shakespeare, you every now and then encounter Strains that recognize the divine Composer. This Difference may be thus accounted for. Jonson, as we said before, owing all his Excellence to his Art, by which he sometimes strain’d himself to an uncommon Pitch, when at other times he unbent and play’d with his Subject, having nothing then to support him, it is no wonder he wrote so far beneath himself. But Sbakespeare, indebted more largely to Nature, than the Other to acquired Talents, in his most negligent Hours could never so totally divest himself of his Genius, but that it would frequently break out with astonishing Force and Splendor.

His Reputation under Disadvantages. As I have never propos’d to dilate farther on the Character of my Author, than was necessary to explain the Nature and Use of this Edition, I shall proceed to consider him as a Genius in Possession of an Everlasting Name. And how great that Merit must be, which could gain it against all the Disadvantages of the horrid Condition in which he has hitherto appear’d! Had Homer, or any other admir’d Author, first started into Publick so, maim’d and deform’d, we cannot determine whether they had not sunk for ever under the Ignominy of such an ill Appearance. The mangled Condition of Shakespeare has been acknowledg’d by Mr. Rowe, who publish’d him indeed, but neither corrected his Text, nor collated the old Copies. This Gentleman had Abilities, and a sufficient Knowledge of his Author, had but his Industry been equal to his Talents. The same mangled Condition has been acknowledg’d too by Mr. Pope, who publish’d him likewise, pretended to have collated the old Copies, and yet seldom has corrected the Text but to its Injury. I congratulate with the Manes of our Poet, that this Gentleman has been sparing in indulging his private Sense; for He, who tampers with an Author whom he does not understand, must do it at the Expence of his Subject. I have made it evident throughout my Remarks, that he has frequently inflicted a Wound where he intended a Cure. He has acted with regard to our Author, as an Editor, whom Lipsius mentions, did with regard to Martial; Inventus est nescio quis Popa, qui non vitia ejus, sed ipsum, excîdit. He has attack’d him like an unhandy Slaughterman; and not lopp’d off the Errors, but the Poet.

Praise sometimes an Injury. When this is found to be the Fact, how absurd must appear the Praises of such an Editor? It seems a moot Point, whether Mr. Pope has done most Injury to Shakespeare as his Editor and Encomiast; or Mr. Rymer done him Service as his Rival and Censurer. Were it every where the true Text, which That Editor in his late pompous Edition gave us, the Poet deserv’d not the large Encomiums bestow’d by him: nor, in that Case, is Rymer’s Censure of the Barbarity of his Thoughts, and the Impropriety of his Expressions, groundless. They have Both shewn themselves in an equal Impuissance of suspecting or amending the corrupted Passages: and tho’ it be neither Prudence to censure, or commend, what one does not understand; yet if a Man must do one when he plays the Critick, the latter is the more ridiculous Office. And by That Shakespeare suffers most. For the natural Veneration, which we have for him, makes us apt to swallow whatever is given us as his, and let off with Encomiums; and hence we quit all Suspicions of Depravity: On the contrary, the Censure of so divine an Author sets us upon his Defence; and this produces an exact Scrutiny and Examination, which ends in finding out and discriminating the true from the spurious.

It is not with any secret Pleasure, that I so frequently animadvert on Mr. Pope as a Critick; but there are Provocations, which a Man can never quite forget. His Libels have been thrown out with so much Inveteracy, that, not to dispute whether they should come from a Christian, they leave it a Question whether they could come from a Man. I should be loth to doubt, as Quintus Serenus did in a like Case,

The Indignation, perhaps, for being represented a Blockhead, may be as strong in Us as it is in the Ladies for a Reflexion on their Beauties. It is certain, I am indebted to Him for some flagrant Civilities; and I shall willingly devote a part of my Life to the honest Endeavour of quitting Scores: with this Exception however, that I will not return those Civilities in his peculiar Strain, but confine myself, at lead, to the Limits of common Decency. I shall ever think it better to want Wit, than to want Humanity: and impartial Posterity may, perhaps, be of my Opinion.

The old Editions faulty, whence. But, to return to my Subject; which now calls upon me to inquire into those Causes, to which the Depravations of my Author originally may be assign’d. We are to consider him as a Writer, of whom no authentic Manuscript was extant; as a Writer, whose Pieces were dispersedly perform’d on the several Stages then in Being. And it was the Custom of those Days for the Poets to take a Price of the Players for the Pieces They from time to time furnish’d; and thereupon it was suppos’d, they had no farther Right to print them without the Consent of the Players. As it was the Interest of the Companies to keep their Plays unpublish’d, when any one succeeded, there was a Contest betwixt the Curiosity of the Town, who demanded to see it in Print, and the Policy of the Stagers, who wish’d to secrete it within their own Walls. Hence, many Pieces were taken down in Short-hand, and imperfectly copied by Ear, from a Representation: Others were printed from piece-meal Parts, surreptitiously obtain’d from the Theatres, uncorrect, and without the Poet’s Knowledge. To some of these Causes we owe the train of Blemishes, that deform those Pieces which stole singly into the World in our Author’s Life-time.

There are still other Reasons, which may be suppos’d to have affected the whole Set. When the Players took upon them to publish his Works intire, every Theatre was ransack’d to supply the Copy; and Parts collected which had gone thro’ as many Changes as Performers, either from Mutilations or Additions made to them. Hence we derive many Chasms and Incoherences in the Sense and Matter. Scenes were frequently transposed, and shuffled out of their true Place, to humour the Caprice or suppos’d Convenience of some particular Actor. Hence much Confusion and Impropriety has attended, and embarras’d, the Business and Fable. For there ever have been, and ever will be in Playhouses, a Set of assuming Directors, who know better than the Poet himself the Connexion and Dependance of his Scenes; where Matter is defective, or Superfluities to be retrench’d; Persons, that have the Fountain of Inspiration as peremptorily in them, as Kings have That of Honour. To these obvious Causes of Corruption it must be added, that our Author has lain under the Disadvantage of having his Errors propagated and multiplied by Time: because, for near a Century; his Works were republish’d from the faulty Copies without the assistance of any intelligent Editor: which has been the Case likewise of many a Classic Writer.

The Editor’s Drift and Method. The Nature of any Distemper once found has generally been the immediate Step to a Cure. Shakespeare’s Case has in a great Measure resembled That of a corrupt Classic; and, consequently, the Method of Cure was likewise to bear a Resemblance. By what Means, and with what Success, this Cure has been effected on ancient Writers, is too well known, and needs no formal Illustration. The Reputation consequent on Tasks of that Nature invited me to attempt the Method here; with this View, the Hopes of restoring to the Publick their greatest Poet in his Original Purity: after having so long lain in a Condition that was a Disgrace to common Sense. To this End I have ventur’d on a Labour, that is the first Assay of the kind on any modern Author whatsoever. For the late Edition of Milton by the Learned Difference betwixt this Edition and Dr. Bentley’s Milton. Dr. Bentley is, in the main, a Performance of another Species. It is plain, it was the Intention of that Great Man rather to Correct and pare off the Excrescencies of the Paradise Lost, in the manner that Tucca and Varius were employ’d to criticize the Æneis of Virgil, than to restore corrupted Passages. Hence, therefore, may be seen either the Iniquity or Ignorance of his Censurers, who, from some Expressions, would make us believe, the Doctor every where gives us his Corrections as the Original Text of the Author; whereas the chief Turn of his Criticism is plainly to shew the World, that if Milton did not write as He would have him, he ought to have wrote so.

I thought proper to premise this Observation to the Readers, as it will shew that the Critic on Shakespeare is of a quite different Kind. His genuine Text is religiously adher’d to, and the numerous Faults and Blemishes, purely his own, are left as they were found. Nothing is alter’d, but what by the clearest Reasoning can be proved a Corruption of the true Text; and the Alteration, a real Restoration of the genuine Reading. Nay, so strictly have I strove to give the true Reading, tho’ sometimes not to the Advantage of my Author, that I have been ridiculously ridicul’d for it by Those, who either were iniquitously for turning every thing to my Disadvantage; or else were totally ignorant of the true Duty of an Editor.

The Science of Criticism, as far as it affects an Editor, seems to be reduced to these three Classes; the Emendation of corrupt Passages; the Explanation of obscure and difficult ones; and an Inquiry into the Beauties and Defects of Composition. This Work is principally confin’d to the two former Parts: tho’ there are some Specimens interspers’d of the latter Kind, as several of the Emendations were best supported, and several of the Difficulties best explain’d, by taking notice of the Beauties and Defects of the Composition peculiar to this Immortal Poet. But This was but occasional, and for the sake only of perfecting the two other Parts, which were the proper Objects of the Editor’s Labour. The third lies open for every willing Undertaker: and I shall be pleas’d to see it the Employment of a masterly Pen.

It must necessarily happen, as I have formerly observ’d, that where the Assistance of Manuscripts is wanting to set an Author’s Meaning right, and rescue him from those Errors which have been transmitted down thro’ a Series of incorrect Editions, and a long Intervention of Time, many Passages must be desperate, and past a Cure; and their true Sense irretrievable either to Care or the Sagacity of Conjecture. But is there any Reason therefore to say, That because All cannot be retriev’d, All ought to be left desperate? We should shew very little Honesty, or Wisdom, to play the Tyrants with an Author’s Text; to raze, alter, innovate, and overturn, at all Adventures, and to the utter Detriment of his Sense and Meaning: But to be so very reserved and cautious, as to interpose no Relief or Conjecture, where it manifestly labours and cries out for Assistance, seems, on the other hand, an indolent Absurdity.

But because the Art of Criticism, both by Those who cannot form a true Judgment of its Effects, nor can penetrate into its Causes, (which takes in a great Number besides the Ladies;) is esteem’d only an arbitrary capricious Tyranny exercis’d on Books; I think proper to subjoin a Word or two about those Rules on which I have proceeded, and by which I have regulated myself in this Edition. By This, I flatter myself, it will appear, my Emendations are so far from being arbitrary or capricious, that They are establish’d with a very high Degree of moral Certainty.

As there are very few Pages in Shakespeare, upon which some Suspicions of Depravity do not reasonably arise; I have thought it my Duty, in the first place, by a diligent and laborious Collation to take in the Assistances of all the older Copies.

In his Historical Plays, whenever our English Chronicles, and in his Tragedies when Greek or Roman Story, could give any Light; no Pains have been omitted to set Passages right by comparing my Author with his Originals: for, as I have frequently observed, he was a close and accurate Copier where-ever his Fable was founded on History.

Where-ever the Author’s Sense is clear and discoverable, (tho’, perchance, low and trivial;) I have not by any Innovation tamper’d with his Text; out of an Ostentation of endeavouring to make him speak better than the Old Copies have done.

Where, thro’ all the former Editions, a Passage has labour’d under flat Nonsense and invincible Darkness, if, by the Addition or Alteration of a Letter or two, I have restored to Him both Sense and Sentiment, such Corrections, I am persuaded, will need no Indulgence.

And whenever I have taken a greater Latitude and Liberty in amending, I have constantly endeavoured to support my Corrections and Conjectures by parallel Passages and Authorities from himself, the surest Means of expounding any Author whatsoever. Cette voïe d’interpreter un Autheur par lui-même est plus sure que tous les Commentaires, says a very learned French Critick.

As to my Notes, (from which the common and learned Readers of our Author, I hope, will derive some Pleasure;) I have endeavour’d to give them a Variety in some Proportion to their Number. Where-ever I have ventur’d at an Emendation, a Note is constantly subjoin’d to justify and assert the Reason of it. Where I only offer a Conjecture, and do not disturb the Text, I fairly set forth my Grounds for such Conjecture, and submit it to Judgment. Some Remarks are spent in explaining Passages, Where the Wit or Satire depends on an obscure Point of History: Others, where Allusions are to Divinity, Philosophy, or other Branches of Science. Some are added to shew, where there is a Suspicion of our Author having borrowed from the Antients: Others, to shew where he is rallying his Contemporaries; or where He himself is rallied by them. And some are necessarily thrown in, to explain an obscure and obsolete Term, Phrase, or Idea. I once intended to have added a complete and copious Glossary; but as I have been importun’d, and am prepar’d, to give a correct Edition of our Author’s Poems, (in which many Terms occur that are not to be met with in his Plays,) I thought a Glossary to all Shakespeare’s Works more proper to attend that Volume.

In reforming an infinite Number of Passages in the Pointing, where the Sense was before quite lost, I have frequently subjoin’d Notes to shew the deprav’d, and to prove the reform’d, Pointing: a Part of Labour in this Work which I could very willingly have spared myself. May it not be objected, why then have you burthen’d us with these Notes? The Answer is obvious, and, if I mistake not, very material. Without such Notes, these Passages in subsequent Editions would be liable, thro’ the Ignorance of Printers and Correctors, to fall into the old Confusion: Whereas, a Note on every one hinders all possible Return to Depravity; and for ever secures them in a State of Purity and Integrity not to be lost or forfeited.

Again, as some Notes have been necessary to point out the Detection of the corrupted Text, and establish the Reiteration of the genuine Readings; some others have been as necessary for the Explanation of Passages obscure and difficult. Causes of Obscurities in Shakespeare. To understand the Necessity and Use of this Part of my Task, some Particulars of my Author’s Character are previously to be explain’d. There are Obscurities in him, which are common to him with all Poets of the same Species; there are Others, the Issue of the Times he liv’d in; and there are Others, again, peculiar to himself. The Nature of Comic Poetry being entirely satyrical, it busies itself more in exposing what we call Caprice and Humour, than Vices cognizable to the Laws. The English, from the Happiness of a free Constitution, and a Turn of Mind peculiarly speculative and inquisitive, are observ’d to produce more Humourists and a greater Variety of Original Characters, than any other People whatsoever: And These owing their immediate Birth to the peculiar Genius of each Age, an infinite Number of Things alluded to, glanced at, and expos’d, must needs become obscure, as the Characters themselves are antiquated, and disused. An Editor therefore should be well vers’d in the History and Manners of his Author’s Age, if he aims at doing him a Service in this Respect.

Besides, Wit lying mostly in the Assemblage of Ideas, and in the putting Those together with Quickness and Variety, wherein can be found any Resemblance, or Congruity, to make up pleasant Pictures, and agreeable Visions in the Fancy; the Writer, who aims at Wit, must of course range far and wide for Materials. Now, the Age, in which Shakespeare liv’d, having, above all others, a wonderful Affection to appear Learned, They declined vulgar Images, such as are immediately fetch’d from Nature, and rang’d thro’ the Circle of the Sciences to fetch their Ideas from thence. But as the Resemblances of such Ideas to the Subject must necessarily lie very much out of the common Way, and every piece of Wit appear a Riddle to the Vulgar; This, that should have taught them the forced, quaint, unnatural Tract they were in, (and induce them to follow a more natural One,) was the very Thing that kept them attach’d to it. The ostentatious Affectation of abstruse Learning, peculiar to that Time, the Love that Men naturally have to every Thing that looks like Mystery, fixed them down to this Habit of Obscurity. Thus became the Poetry of Donne (tho’ the wittiest Man of that Age,) nothing but a continued Heap of Riddles. And our Shakespeare, with all his easy Nature about him, for want of the Knowledge of the true Rules of Art, falls frequently into this vicious Manner.

The third Species of Obscurities, which deform our Author, as the Effects of his own Genius and Character, are Those that proceed from his peculiar Manner of Thinking, and as peculiar a Manner of cloathing those Thoughts. With regard to his Thinking, it is certain, that he had a general Knowledge of all the Sciences: But his Acquaintance was rather That of a Traveller, than a Native. Nothing in Philosophy was unknown to him; but every Thing in it had the Grace and Force of Novelty. And as Novelty is one main Source of Admiration, we are not to wonder that He has perpetual Allusions to the most recondite Parts of the Sciences: and This was done not so much out of Affectation, as the Effect of Admiration begot by Novelty. Then, as to his Style and Diction, we may much more justly apply to Shakespeare, what a celebrated Writer has said of Milton; Our Language sunk under him, and was unequal to that Greatness of Soul which furnish’d him with such glorious Conceptions. He therefore frequently uses old Words, to give his Diction an Air of Solemnity; as he coins others, to express the Novelty and Variety of his Ideas.

Upon every distinct Species of these Obscurities I have thought it my Province to employ a Note, for the Service of my Author, and the Entertainment of my Readers. A few transient Remarks too I have not scrupled to intermix, upon the Poet’s Negligences and Omissions in point of Art; but I have done it always in such a Manner, as will testify my Deference and Veneration for the Immortal Author. Some Censurers of Shakespeare, and particularly Mr. Rymer, have taught me to distinguish betwixt the Railer and Critick. The Outrage of his Quotations is so remarkably violent, so push’d beyond all Bounds of Decency and sober Reasoning, that it quite carries over the Mark at which it was levell’d. Extravagant Abuse throws off the Edge of the intended Disparagement, and turns the Madman’s Weapon into his own Bosom. In short, as to Rymer, This is my Opinion of him from his Criticisms on the Tragedies of the Last Age. He writes with great Vivacity, and appears to have been a Scholar: but, as for his Knowledge of the Art of Poetry, I can’t perceive it was any deeper than his Acquaintance with Bossu and Dacier, from whom he has transcribed many of his best Reflexions. The late Mr. Gildon was One attached to Rymer by a similar Way of Thinking and Studies. They were Both of that Species of Criticks, who are desirous of displaying their Powers rather in finding Faults, than in consulting the Improvement of the World: the hypercritical Part of the Science of Criticism.

I had not mentioned the modest Liberty I have here and there taken of animadverting on my Author, but that I was willing to obviate in time the splenetick Exaggerations of my Adversaries on this Head. From past Experiments I have Reason to be conscious, in what Light this Attempt may be placed: and that what I call a modest Liberty, will, by a little of their Dexterity, be inverted into downright Impudence. From a hundred mean and dishonest Artifices employ’d to discredit this Edition, and to cry down its Editor, I have all the Grounds in Nature to be aware of Attacks. But tho’ the Malice of Wit join’d to the Smoothness of Versification may furnish some Ridicule; Fact, I hope, will be able to stand its Ground against Banter and Gaiety.

Shakespeare’s Anachronisms defended. It has been my Fate, it seems, as I thought it my Duty, to discover some Anachronisms in our Author; which might have slept in Obscurity but for this Restorer, as Mr. Pope is pleas’d affectionately to style me; as, for Instance, where Aristotle is mentioned by Hector in Troilus and Cressida: and Galen, Cato, and Alexander the Great, in Coriolanus. These, in Mr. Pope’s Opinion, are Blunders, which the Illiteracy of the first Publishers of his Works has father’d upon the Poet’s Memory: it not being at all credible, that These could be the Errors of any Man who had the least Tincture of a School, or the least Conversation with such as had. But I have sufficiently proved, in the Course of my Notes, that such Anachronisms were the Effect of poetic Licence, rather than of Ignorance in our Poet. And if I may be permitted to ask a modest Question by the way, Mr. Pope’s Anachronisms examin’d. Why may not I restore an Anachronism really made by our Author, as well as Mr. Pope take the Privilege to fix others upon him, which he never had it in his Head to make; as I may venture to affirm He had not, in the Instance of Sir Francis Drake, to which I have spoke in the proper Place?

But who shall dare make any Words about this Freedom of Mr. Pope’s towards Shakespeare, if it can be prov’d, that, in his Fits of Criticism, he makes no more Ceremony with good Homer himself? To try, then, a Criticism of his own advancing; In the 8th Book of the Odyssey, where Demodocus sings the Episode of the Loves of Mars and Venus; and that, upon their being taken in the Net by Vulcan,

Mr. Pope is so kind gravely to inform us, “That Homer in This, as in many other Places, seems to allude to the Laws of Athens, where Death was the Punishment of Adultery.” But how is this significant Observation made out? Why, who can possibly object any Thing to the Contrary?—Does not Pausanias relate, that Draco the Lawgiver to the Athenians granted Impunity to any Person that took Revenge upon an Adulterer? And was it not also the Institution of Solon, that if Any One took an Adulterer in the Fact, he might use him as he pleas’d? These Things are very true: and to see What a good Memory, and sound Judgment in Conjunction can atchieve! Tho’ Homer’s Date is not determin’d down to a single Year, yet ’tis pretty generally agreed that he liv’d above 300 Years before Draco and Solon: And That, it seems, has made him seem to allude to the very Laws, which these Two Legislators propounded above 300 Years after. If this Inference be not something like an Anachronism or Prolepsis, I’ll look once more into my Lexicons for the true Meaning of the Words. It appears to me, that somebody besides Mars and Venus has been caught in a Net by this Episode: and I could call in other Instances to confirm what treacherous Tackle this Network is, if not cautiously handled.

How just, notwithstanding, I have been in detecting the Anachronisms of my Author, and in defending him for the Use of them, Our late Editor seems to think, They should rather have slept in Obscurity: and the having discovered them is sneer’d at, as a sort of wrong-headed Sagacity.

The numerous Corrections, which I made of the Poet’s Text in my Shakespeare Restor’d, and which the Publick have been so kind to think well of, are, in the Appendix of Mr. Pope’s last Edition, slightingly call’d Various Readings, Guesses, &c. He confesses to have inserted as many of them as he judg’d of any the least Advantage to the Poet; but says, that the Whole amounted to about 25 Words: and pretends to have annexed a compleat List of the Rest, which were not worth his embracing. Whoever has read my Book will at one glance see, how in both these Points Veracity is strain’d, so an Injury might but be done. Malus etsi obesse non pote, tamen cogitat.

Literal Criticism defended. Another Expedient, to make my Work appear of a trifling Nature, has been an Attempt to depreciate Literal Criticism. To this End, and to pay a servile Compliment to Mr. Pope, an Anonymous Writer has, like a Scotch Pedlar in Wit, unbraced his Pack on the Subject. But, that his Virulence might not seem to be levelled singly at Me, he has done Me the Honour to join Dr. Bentley in the Libel. I was in hopes, We should have been Both abused with Smartness of Satire, at least; tho’ not with Solidity of Argument: that it might have been worth some Reply in Defence of the Science attacked. But I may fairly say of this Author, as Falstaffe does of Poins;—Hang him, Baboon! his Wit is as thick as Tewksbury Mustard; there is no more Conceit in him, than is in a Mallet. If it be not Prophanation to set the Opinion of the divine Longinus against such a Scribler, he tells us expresly, “That to make a Judgment upon Words (and Writings) is the most consummate Fruit of much Experience.” ἡ γὰρ τῶν λόγων κρίσις πολλῆς ἐστὶ πείρας τελευταῖον ἐπιγέννημα. Whenever Words are depraved, the Sense of course must be corrupted; and thence the Readers betray’d into a false Meaning. Tho’ I should be convicted of Pedantry by some, I’ll venture to subjoin a few flagrant Instances, in which I have observed most Learned Men have suffer’d themselves to be deceived, and consequently led their Readers into Error: and This for want of the Help of Literal Criticism: in some, thro’ Indolence and Inadvertence: in others, perhaps, thro’ an absolute Contempt of It. If the Subject may seem to invite this Digression, I hope, the Use and Application will serve to excuse it.

Platonius corrected. I. In that golden Fragment, which we have left of Platonius, upon the three Kinds of Greek Comedy, after he has told us, that when the State of Athens was alter’d from a Democracy to an Oligarchy, and that the Poets grew cautious whom they libell’d in their Comedies; when the People had no longer any Desire to choose the accustom’d Officers for furnishing Choric Singers, and defraying the Expence of them, Aristophanes brought on a Play in which there was no Chorus. For, subjoins He, τῶν γὰρ ΧΟΡΕΥΤΩΝ μὴ χειροτονουμένων, καὶ τῶν ΧΟΡΗΓΩΝ οὐκ ἐχόντων τὰς τροφὰς, ὑπεξῃρέθη τῆς Κωμῳδίας τὰ χορικὰ μέλη, καὶ τῶν ὑποθέσεων ὁ τρόπος μετεβλήθη. “The Chorus-Singers being no longer chosen by Suffrage, and the Furnishers of the Chorus no longer having their Maintenance, the Choric Songs were taken out of Comedies, and the Nature of the Argument and Fable chang’d.” But there happen to be two signal Mistakes in this short Sentence. For the Chorus-Singers were never elected by Suffrage at all, but hir’d by the proper Officer who was at the Expence of the Chorus: and the Furnishers of the Chorus had never either Table, or Stipend, allowed them, towards their Charge. To what Purpose then is this Sentence, which should be a Deduction from the Premises, and yet is none, brought in? Or how comes the Reasoning to be founded upon what was not the Fact? The Mistake manifestly arises from a careless Transposition made in the Text: Let the two Greek Words, which I have distinguished by Capitals, only change Places, and we recover what Platonius meant to infer: A: Χορηγῶν.
B: Χορευτῶν. “That the ^AFurnishers of Chorus’s being no longer elected by Suffrage, and the ^BChorus-Singers having no Provision made for them, Chorus’s were abolished, and the Subjects of Comedies alter’d.”

II. There is another more egregious Error still subsisting in this instructive Fragment, which has likewise escaped the Notice of the Learned. The Author is saying, that, in the old Comedy, the Masks were made so nearly to resemble the Persons to be satirized, that before the Actor spoke a Word, it was known whom he was to personate. But, in the New Comedy, when Athens was conquered by the Macedonians, and the Poets were fearful lest their Masks should be construed to resemble any of their New Governors, they formed them so preposterously as only to move Laughter; ὁρῶμεν γοῦν (says He) τὰς ὀφρῦς ἐν τοῖς προσώποις τῆς Μενάνδρου κωμῳδίας ὁποίας ἔχει, καὶ ὅπως ἐξεστραμμένον τὸ ΣΩΜΑ. καὶ οὐδε κατὰ ἀνθρώπων φύσιν. “We see therefore what strange Eyebrows there are to the Masks used in Menander’s Comedies; and how the Body is distorted, and unlike any human Creature alive.” But the Author, ’tis evident, is speaking abstractedly of Masks; and what Reference has the Distortion of the Body to the Look of a Visor? I am satisfied, Platonius wrote; καὶ ὅπως ἐξεστραμμένον τὸ ὌΜΜΑ, i.e. “and how the Eyes were goggled and distorted.” This is to the Purpose of his Subject: and Jul. Pollux, in describing the Comic Masques, speaks of some that had ΣΤΡΕΒΛΟΝ τὸ ὌΜΜΑ: Others, that were ΔΙΑΣΤΡΟΦΟΙ τὴν ὌΨΙΝ. Perversis oculis, as Cicero calls them, speaking of Roscius.

Camerarius and Keuster, mistaken. III. Suidas, in the short Account that he has given us of Sophocles, tells us, that, besides Dramatic Pieces, he wrote Hymns and Elegies; καὶ λόγον καταλογάδην περὶ τοῦ Χοροῦ πρὸς Θέσπιν καὶ Χοίριλον ἀγωνιζόμενος. This the Learned Camerarius has thus translated: Scripsit Oratione solutâ de Choro contra Thespin & Choerilum quempiam. And Keuster likewise understood, and render’d, the Passage to the same Effect. He owns, the Place is obscure, and suspected by him. “For how could Sophocles contend with Thespis and Choerilus, who liv’d long before his Time?” The Scholiast upon C: In Ranis, v. 73. ^CAristophanes, however, expresly says, as Keuster might have remember’d, that Sophocles actually did contend with Choerilus. But that is a Point nothing to the Passage in Question; which means, as I have shewn in another Place, That Sophocles declaimed in Prose, contending to obtain a Chorus for reviving some Pieces of Thespis and Choerilus. Is This contending against Them, as rival Poets?

Meursius, and Camerarius mistaken. IV. Some other Learned Men have likewise been mistaken in Particulars with regard to Sophocles. In the Synopsis of his Life, we find these Words; Τελευτᾶ δὲ μετὰ Ἐυριπίδην ἐτῶν ϛ’. Meursius, as well as Camerarius, have expounded This, as if Sophocles surviv’d Euripides six Years. But the best Accounts agree that they died both in the same Year, a little before the Frogs of Aristophanes was play’d; scil. Olymp. 93, 3. The Meaning, therefore, of the Passage is, as some of the Commentators have rightly observ’d; That Sophocles died after Euripides, at 90 Years of Age. The Mistake arose from hence, that, in Numerals, ϛ’ signifies as well 6 as 90.

Father Brumoy mistaken. V. The Learned Father Brumoy too, who has lately given us three Volumes upon the Theatre of the Greeks, has slipt into an Error about Sophocles; for, speaking of his Antigone, he tells us, it was in such Request as to be perform’d Two and Thirty times; Elle fût representée trente deux fois. The Account, on which This is grounded, we have from the Argument prefix’d to Antigone by Aristophanes the Grammarian: and the Latin Translator of this Argument, probably, led Father Brumoy into his Mistake, and he should have referr’d to the Original. The Greek Words are; λέλεκται δὲ τὸ δρᾶμα τοῦτο τριακοστὸν δεύτερον. i. e. “This Play is said to have been the Thirty Second, in Order of Time, produced by Sophocles.”

The Mistakes, that I have mentioned, (tho’ they necessarily lead into Error, from the Authority with which they come into the World;) yet are such, ’tis obvious, as have been the Effects of Inadvertence; and therefore I do not quote them to the Dishonour of their Learned Authors. I shall point out Two or Three, which seem to have sprung from another Source: either a due Want of Sagacity, or an absolute Neglect of literal Criticism. Sir George Wheler corrected. VI. Sir George Wheler, who, in his Journey into Greece, has traded much with Greek Antiquities and Inscriptions, and who certainly was no mean Scholar, has shewn himself very careless in this Respect. When he was at Sardis, he met with a Medal of the Emperor Commodus seated in the Midst of the Zodiack with Celestial Signs engraven on it; and, on the other Side, a Figure with a Crown-Mure with these Letters about it, Σάρδις Ἀσίας, ΑΥΔΙΑΣ, Ἕλλαδος, ᾱ μητρόπολις: Sardis, the first Metropolis of Asia, Greece, and Audia.—But where and what Audia was, (says He) I find not. Now is it not very strange, that this Gentleman should not remember, that Sardis was the Capital City of Lydia; and, consequently, that for ΑΥΔΙΑΣ we should read ΛΥΔΊΑΣ? Tho’ my Correction is too obvious to want any Justification, yet, I find, it has One from the Learned Father D: In his Nummi Antiqui illustrati. ^DHarduin; who produces another Coin of Sardis (in the French King’s Cabinet) which bears the very same Inscription, only exhibited as it ought to be.

Nor was This a single Inaccuracy in Sir George. I’ll instance in Two pretty Inscriptions, the One an Epitaph, the other a Votive Table, which He has given Us, but in a very corrupt Condition. Tho’ I have never been in Greece, nor seen the Inscriptions any where but in his Book, I think, I can restore them to their true Sense and Numbers: And, as they are particularly elegant, some Readers will not be displeas’d to see them in a State of Purity.

An Epitaph corrected and explained. VII. Of the Antiquities of Philadelphia (says he) I had but a slender Account; only I have the Copy of one Inscription, being the Monument of a Virgin, in these three Couplets of Verses. But she was so far from being a Virgin, that the Epitaph shews her to have been a Wife; that it was put up in Memory of Her by her Husband; and that she dy’d in the Flower of her Youth at the Age of twenty three.