Wherefore do you so ill tranflate yourself,

Out of the speech of peace, that bears fuch grace, Into the harsh and boift'rous tongue of war?

LANCASTER,

My lord of York, it better fhew'd with you,
When that your flock, affembled by the bell,
Encircled you to hear with reverence,
Your expofition on the holy text;

Than now to fee you here an iron man,
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to fword, and life to death.
That man that fits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the fun-fhine of his favour,
Would he abuse the count'nance of the king,
Alack, what mifchiefs might be fet abroach,
In fhadow of fuch greatnefs! With you, lord bishop,
It is ev'n fo. Who hath not heard it spoken,
How deep you were within the books of heav'n?

To us, the speaker in his parliament,

To us th'imagin'd voice of heav'n itself,
The very opener and intelligencer

Between the grace, the fanctities of heav'n,

And our dull workings: O, who shall believe
But you misuse the rey'rence of your place,

Employ

Employ the countenance and grace of heav'n,
As a falfe favourite doth his prince's name,
In deeds difhonourable? You've taken up,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,

The fubjects of his fubftitute, my father;
And both against the peace of heav'n and him,
Have here up-fwarm'd them.

The archbishop of York, even when he appears an iron man, keeps up the gravity and seeming fanctity of his character, and wears the mitre over his helmet. He is not, like Hotspur, a valiant rebel, full of noble anger and fierce defiance, he speaks like a cool politician to his friends, and like a deep defigning hypocrite to his enemies, and pretends he is only acting as physician to the state,

I have before obferved, that Shakespear had the talents of an Orator, as much as of a Poet; and I believe it will be allowed, that the fpeeches of Westmorland and Lancaster are as proper on this occafion, and the particular circumftances as happily touch'd, as they could

could have been, by the most judicious orator. I know not that any poet, ancient or modern, has shewn fo perfect a judgment in rhetoric as our countryman. I wish he had employed his eloquence likewise, in arraigning the baseness and treachery of John of Lancaster's conduct, in breaking his covenant with the rebels.

Pistol is an odd kind of perfonage, intended probably to ridicule fome fashionable affectation of bombaft language. When such characters exist no longer but in the writings, where they have been ridiculed, they feem to have been monsters of the poet's brain, The originals loft and the mode forgotten, one can neither praise the imitation, nor laugh at the ridicule. Comic writers should therefore always exhibit fome characteristic distinctions, as well as temporary modes. Juftice Shallow will for ever rank with a certain fpecies of men; he is like a well painted portrait in the dress of his age. Pistol appears a mere antiquated habit, fo uncouthly fashioned, we can hardly believe,

believe, it was made for any thing but a masquerade frolic. Poets who mean to please posterity, thould therefore work as Painters, not as Taylors, and give us peculiar features, rather than fantastic habits: but where there is fuch a prodigious variety of well-drawn portraits as in this play, we may excuse one piece of mere drapery, especially when exhibited to expose an abfurd and troublesome fashion.

Mine hostess Quickly is of a species not extinct. It may be faid, the author there finks from comedy to farce, but she helps to compleat the character of Falstaffe, and some of the dialogues in which she is engaged are diverting. Every scene in which Doll Tearsheet appears is indecent, and therefore not only indefenfible but inexcufable. There are delicacies of decorum in one age unknown -to another age, but whatever is immoral is equally blamable in all ages, and every approach to obscenity is offence for which wit cannot atone, nor

an

the

the barbarity or the corruption of the times excufe.

Having confidered the characters of this piece, I cannot pafs over the conduct of it without taking notice of the peculiar felicity, with which the fable unfolds itself from the very beginning.

The first scenes give the outlines of the characters, and the argument of the drama. Where is there an inftance of any opening of a play equal to this? And I think I did not rafhly affert, that it is one of the most difficult parts of the dramatic art; for that surely may be allowed fo, in which the greatest masters have very seldom fucceeded. Euripides is not very happy in this respect. Iphigenia in Tauris begins by telling to herself, in a pretty long foliloquy, who fhe is, and all that happened to her at Aulis. As Aristotle gives this play the highest praise, we may be affured it did not in any respect offend the Greek tafte : and Boileau not injudiciously prefers this