ertain, but
which there is reason to believe, at least, as old as his earliest
plays. This, however, is certain, that he is the first who taught either
tragedy or comedy to please, there being no theatrical piece of any
older writer, of which the name is known, except to antiquaries and
collectors of books, which are sought because they are scarce, and would
not have been scarce, had they been much esteemed.

To him we must ascribe the praise, unless Spenser may divide it with
him, of having first discovered to how much smoothness and harmony the
English language could be softened. He has speeches, perhaps, sometimes
scenes, which have all the delicacy of Rowe, without his effeminacy. He
endeavours, indeed, commonly to strike by the force and vigour of his
dialogue, but he never executes his purpose better, than when he tries
to sooth by softness.

Yet it must be at last confessed, that as we owe every thing to him, he
owes something to us; that, if much of his praise is paid by perception
and judgment, much is, likewise, given by custom and veneration. We fix
our eyes upon his graces, and turn them from his deformities, and endure
in him what we should in another loathe or despise. If we endured
without praising, respect for the father of our drama might excuse us;
but I have seen, in the book of some modern critick, a collection of
anomalies, which show that he has corrupted language by every mode of
depravation, but which his admirer has accumulated as a monument of
honour.

He has scenes of undoubted and perpetual excellence; but, perhaps, not
one play, which, if it were now exhibited as the work of a contemporary
writer, would be heard to the conclusion. I am, indeed, far from
thinking that his works were wrought to his own ideas of perfection;
when they were such as would satisfy the audience, they satisfied the
writer. It is seldom that authors, though more studious of fame than
Shakespeare, rise much above the standard of their own age; to add a
little to what is best will always be sufficient for present praise; and
those who find themselves exalted into fame, are willing to credit their
encomiasts, and to spare the labour of contending with themselves.

It does not appear, that Shakespeare thought his works worthy of
posterity, that he levied any ideal tribute upon future times, or had
any further prospect, than of present popularity and present profit.
When his plays had been acted, his hope was at an end