hakespeare in point of coherence, unity, and simplicity. It is a
natural consequence of this more artful arrangement of the story, that
Dryden contents himself with the concluding scene of Antony's history
instead of introducing the incidents of the war with Cneius Pompey,
the negociation with Lepidus, death of his first wife, and other
circumstances, which, in Shakespeare, only tend to distract our
attention from the main interest of the drama. The union of time, as
necessary as that of place to the intelligibility of the drama, has,
in like manner, been happily attained; and an interesting event is
placed before the audience with no other change of place, and no
greater lapse of time, than can be readily adapted to an ordinary
imagination.

But, having given Dryden the praise of superior address in managing
the story, I fear he must be pronounced in most other respects
inferior to his grand prototype. Antony, the principal character in
both plays, is incomparably grander in that of Shakespeare. The
majesty and generosity of the military hero is happily expressed by
both poets; but the awful ruin of grandeur, undermined by passion, and
tottering to its fall, is far more striking in the Antony of
Shakespeare. Love, it is true, is the predominant; but it is not the
sole ingredient in his character. It has usurped possession of his
mind, but is assailed by his original passions, ambition of power, and
thirst for military fame. He is, therefore, often, and it should seem
naturally represented, as feeling for the downfall of his glory and
power, even so intensely as to withdraw his thoughts from Cleopatra,
unless considered as the cause of his ruin. Thus, in the scene in
which he compares himself to "black Vesper's pageants," he runs on in
a train of fantastic and melancholy similes, having relation only to
his fallen state, till the mention of Egypt suddenly recalls the idea
of Cleopatra. But Dryden has taken a different view of Antony's
character, and more closely approaching to his title of "All for
Love."--"He seems not now that awful Antony." His whole thoughts and
being are dedicated to his fatal passion; and though a spark of
resentment is occasionally struck out by the reproaches of Ventidius,
he instantly relapses into love-sick melancholy. The following
beautiful speech exhibits the romance of despairing love, without the
deep and mingled passion of a dishonoured soldier, and dethroned
emperor:

_Ant._ [_Thro