time. The three first of
these are excluded from Dr. Johnson's Lives of the Poets (Shakspeare
indeed is so from the dramatic form of his compositions): and the
fourth, Milton, is admitted with a reluctant and churlish welcome.

In comparing these four writers together, it might be said that
Chaucer excels as the poet of manners, or of real life; Spenser, as the
poet of romance; Shakspeare as the poet of nature (in the largest use of
the term); and Milton, as the poet of morality. Chaucer most frequently
describes things as they are; Spenser, as we wish them to be;
Shakspeare, as they would be; and Milton as they ought to be. As poets,
and as great poets, imagination, that is, the power of feigning things
according to nature, was common to them all: but the principle or moving
power, to which this faculty was most subservient in Chaucer, was habit,
or inveterate prejudice; in Spenser, novelty, and the love of the
marvellous; in Shakspeare, it was the force of passion, combined with
every variety of possible circumstances; and in Milton, only with the
highest. The characteristic of Chaucer is intensity; of Spenser,
remoteness; of Milton, elevation; of Shakspeare, every thing.--It has
been said by some critic, that Shakspeare was distinguished from the
other dramatic writers of his day only by his wit; that they had all his
other qualities but that; that one writer had as much sense, another as
much fancy, another as much knowledge of character, another the same
depth of passion, and another as great a power of language. This
statement is not true; nor is the inference from it well-founded, even
if it were. This person does not seem to have been aware that, upon his
own shewing, the great distinction of Shakspeare's genius was its
virtually including the genius of all the great men of his age, and not
his differing from them in one accidental particular. But to have done
with such minute and literal trifling.

The striking peculiarity of Shakspeare's mind was its generic
quality, its power of communication with all other minds--so that it
contained a universe of thought and feeling within itself, and had no
one peculiar bias, or exclusive excellence more than another. He was
just like any other man, but that he was like all other men. He was the
least of an egotist that it was possible to be. He was nothing in
himself; but he was all that others were, or that they could become. He
not only had in himself the ge