fecond choice, fince it is certain that Sir John Falstaff, who was a Knight of the garter, and a Lieutenantgeneral, was a name of diftinguifh'd merit in the wars in France in Henry the fifth's and Henry the fixth's times. What grace foever the Queen confer'd upon him, it was not to her only he ow'd the fortune which the reputation of his wit made. He had the honour to meet with many great and uncommon marks of favour and friendship from the Earl of Southampton, famous in the hiftories of that time for his friendship to the unfortunate Earl of Effex. It was to that noble I ord that he dedicated his Poem of Venus and Adonis. There is one inftance fo fingular in the magnificence of this Patron of Shakespear's, that if I had not been affur'd that the ftory was handed down by Sir William D'Avenant, who was probably very well acquainted with his affairs, I fhould not have ventur'd to have inferted, that my Lord Southampton at one time gave him a thousand pounds, to enable him to go through with a purchafe which he heard he had a mind to. bounty very great, and very rare at any time, and almoft equal to that profufe generofity the prefent age has fhewn to French Dancers and Italian Singers. A What particular habitude or friendships he contracted with private men, I have not been able to learn, more than that every one who had a true taste of merit, and could diftinguish men, had generally a just value and efteem for him. His exceeding candor and good-nature muft certainly have inclin'd all the gentler part of the world to love him, as the power of his wit oblig'd the men of the most delicate knowledge and polite learning to admire him. His acquaintance with Ben Johnson began with a remarkable piece of humanity and good-nature; Mr. Johnson, who was at that time altogether unknown to the world, had offer'd one of his Plays to the Players, in order to have it acted; and the perfons into whofe hands it was put, after having turn'd it carelefly and fuperciliously over, were just upon returning it to him. with an ill-natur'd anfwer, that it would be of no fervice to their Company; when Shakespear luckily caft his eye upon it, and found fomething fo well in it as to engage him first to read it through, and afterwards to recommend Mr. Johnson and his writings to the publick. Johnson was certainly a very good scholar, and in that had the advantage of Shakespear; tho' at the fame time I believe it must be allow'd, that what Nature gave the latter, was more than a balance for what Books had given the former; and the judgment of a great man upon this occafion was, I think, very juft and proper. In a converfation between Sir John Suckling, Sir William D'Avenant, Endymion Porter, Mr. Hales of Eaton, and Ben Johnson; Sir John Suckling, who was a profefs'd admirer of Shakespear, had undertaken his defence against Ben Johnson with fome warmth; Mr. Hales, who had fat ftill for fome time, told 'em, That if Mr. Shakespear had not read the Ancients, be bad likewife not stolen any thing from 'em ; and that if he would produce any one Topick finely treated by any of them, he would undertake to fhew fomething upon the fame fubject at least as well written by Shakefpear. The latter part of his life was spent, as all men of good fenfe will with theirs may be, in eafe, retirement, and the converfation of his friends. He had the good fortune to gather an estate equal to his occafion, and, in that, to his wifh; and is faid to have spent fome years before his death at his native Stratford. His pleasurable wit, and good-nature, engag'd him in the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendship of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. Amongst them, it is a story almoft ftill remember'd in that country, that he had a particular intimacy with Mr. Combe, an old gentleman noted thereabouts for his wealth and ufury: It happen'd that in a pleafant conversation amongst their common friends, Mr. Combe told Shakespear in a laughing laughing manner, that he fancy'd he intended to write his Epitaph, if he happen'd to out-live him; and fince he could not know what might be faid of him when he was dead, he defir'd it might be done immediately Upon which Shakespear gave him these four verfes. Ten in the kundred lies here ingrav'd, 'Tis a hundred to ten his foul is not fav'd: If any man afk, Who lyes in this tomb? Ob! ob! quoth the devil, 'tis my John-a-Combe. But the sharpness of the Satire is faid to have flung the man fo feverely, that he never forgave it. He dy'd in the 53d year of his age, and was bury'd on the north fide of the chancel, in the great Church at Stratford, where a monument, as engrav'd in the plate, is plac'd in the wall. On his Grave-stone underneath is, Good friend, for Jefus' fake forbear Bleft be the man that spares these stones, He had three daughters, of which two liv'd to be marry'd; Judith, the elder, to one Mr. Thomas Quiney, by whom he had three Sons, who all died without children; and Sufannah, who was his favourite, to Dr. John Hall, a phyfician of good reputation in that country. She left one child only, a daughter, who was marry'd first to Thomas Nafh, Efq; and afterwards to Sir John Bernard of Abbington, but dy'd likewife without iffue. This is what I could learn of any note, either relating to himself or family: The character of the man is beft feen in his writings. But fince Ben Johnson has made a fort of an effay towards it in his Discoveries, I will give it in his words. << I re "I remember the Players have often mention'd it "as an honour to Shakespear, that in writing (what"foever he penn❜d) he never blotted out a line. My anfwer hath been, Would be bad blotted a thousand! "which they thought a malevolent fpecch. I had "not told pofterity this, but for their ignorance, who "chofe that circumftance to commend their friend by, "wherein he most faulted: and to juftifie mine own candour, for I lov'd the man, and do honour his memory, on this fide idolatry, as much as any. He was, indeed, honeft, and of an open and free na። ture, had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expreffions; wherein he flow'd with that facility, that fometimes it was neceffary he fhould be ftopp'd: Sufflaminandus erat, as Auguftus faid of "Hater us His wit was in his own power, would "the rule of it had been fo too. Many times he tell "into thofe things which could not efcape laughter; "as when he faid in the perfon of Cefar, one fpeaking to him, "Cæfar thou dost me wrong. "He reply'd : "Cæfar did never wrong, but with just cause. "and fuch like, which were ridiculous. But he re"deem'd his vices with his virtues: There was ever "more in him to be prais'd than to be pardon'd." As for the paffag which he mentions out of ShakeSpear, there is fomewhat like it in Julius Cafar, but without the abfurdity; nor did I ever meet with it in any edition that I have feen, as quoted by Mr. JohnJon. Befides his plays in this edition, there are two or three afcrib'd to him by Mr. Langbain, which I have never feen, and know nothing of. He writ likewife Venus and Adonis, and Tarquin and Lucrece, in ftanza's, which have been printed in a late collection of Poems. As to the character given of him by Ben Johnson, VOL. I. . f there there is a good deal true in it: But I believe it may be as well exprefs'd by what Horace fays of the first Romans, who wrote Tragedy upon the Greek models, (or indeed translated 'em) in his epiftle to Augustus. Naturâ fublimis & acer, Nam fpirat Tragicum fatis feliciter Audet, Sed turpem putat in Chartis metuitque Lituram. As I have not propos'd to myfelf to enter into a large and compleat collection upon Shakespear's Works, fo I will only take the liberty, with all due fubmiffion to the judgment of others, to obferve fome of those things I have been pleas'd with in looking him over. His Plays are properly to be diftinguifh'd only into Comedics and Tragedies. Those which are call'd Hiftories, and even fome of his Comedies are really Tragedies, with a run or mixture of Comedy amongst 'em. That way of Tragi-comedy was the common miftake of that age, and is indeed become fo agreeable to the English tafte, that tho' the feverer Critics among us cannot bear it, yet the generality of our audiences feem to be better pleas'd with it than with an exact Tragedy. The Merry Wives of Windfor, the Comedy of Errors, and the Taming of the Shrew, are all pure Comedy; the reft, however they are call'd, have fomething of both kinds. 'Tis not very eafy to determine which way of writing he was most excellent in. There is certainly a great deal of entertainment in his comical humours; and tho' they did not then frike at all ranks of people, as the Satire of the prefent age has taken the liberty to do, yet there is a pleafing and a well-diftinguifh'd variety in thofe characters which he thought fit to meddle with. Falstaff is allow'd by every body to be a master-piece; the Character is always well-fuftain'd, tho' drawn out into the length of three Plays; and even the account of his death, given by his old landlady Mrs. Quickly, in the first act of Henry V. tho' it be extremely natural, is |