him to the throne, would one day revolt from him, as to add,

Though then, heaven knows, I had no fuch

intent;

But that neceffity fo bow'd the ftate,

That I and Greatnefs were compell'd to kifs.

To his fucceffor he expreffes himself differently, when he says,

very

Heaven knows, my fon,

By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways

I met this crown.

Thefe delicacies of conduct lie hardly within the poet's province, but have their fource in that great and univerfal capacity, which the attentive reader will find to belong to our author, beyond any other writer. He alone, perhaps, would have perceived the decorum and fitnefs of making fo wife a man referved even with his friends, and truft a confeffion of the iniquities, by which he obtained the crown, only to his fucceffor, whose interest it was not to difgrace what

ever could authorize his attainment of it. Let tragedy-writers who make princes prate with pages and waiting-women of their murders and treafons, learn for once, from rude and illiterate Shakespear, how averse pride is coolly to confefs, and prudence to betray, what the fever and deliriums of ambition have prompted us to do,

Falstaffe appears with his former difpofitions, but in new fituations; and entertains us in a variety of scenes.

Hotspur is as it were revived to the fpectator, in the following character given of him by his lady, when the diffuades Northumberland from joining the forces of the archbishop.

Lady PERCY.

Oh, yet for heav'n's fake, go not to these wars.
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now;
When your own Percy, when my heart-dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look, to fee his father
Bring up his pow'rs; but he did long in vain!

Who then perfuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours loft; yours and your fon's,
For yours, may heav'nly glory brighten it!
For his, it ftruck upon him as the fun

In the grey vault of heav'n; and by his light
Did all the chivalry of England move

To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass,
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait;
And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant;

For those, that could speak low and tardily,
Would turn their own perfection to abuse,

To feem like him: So that in fpeech, in gait,
In diet, in affections of delight,

In military rules, humours of blood,

He was the mark and glafs, copy and book,

That fashion'd others. And him, wond'rous him!

O miracle of men! him did you leave

To look upon the hideous god of war

In difadvantage; to abide a field

Where nothing but the found of Hotspur's name
Did feem defenfible. So you left him.

Never, O, never do his ghoft the wrong,

To hold your honour more precife and nice

With others, than with Him. Let them alone:
The marshal and the archbishop are strong,

Had my fweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I (hanging on Hotspur's neck)
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.

Juftice Shallow is an admirably well drawn comic character, but he never appears better, than by reflection in the mirror of Falstaffe's wit, in whofe defcriptions he is most strongly exhibited.-It is faid by fome, that the Juftice was meant for a particular gentleman, who had profecuted the author for deer-ftealing. I know not whether that ftory be well grounded. The Shallows are to be found every where, in every age: but they who have least character of their own, are most formed and modified by the fashion of the times, and by their peculiar profeffion or calling. So though we often meet with a refemblance to this Juftice, we shall never find an exact parallel to him, now manners are fo much changed.-Hiftory or Philofophy cannot better fet forth the superior dan

ger of a rebellion fanctified by the Church, than by the following words of Morton :.

MORTON.

The gentle Archbishop of York is up
With well appointed powers. He is a man,
Who with a double furety binds his followers.
My lord, your fon had only but the corps,
But fhadows, and the fhews of men to fight;
For that fame word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their fouls,
And they did fight with queafinefs, constrain'd,
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
Seem'd on our fide, but for their fpirits and fouls,
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up.

But now, the bishop

Turns infurrection to religion:

Suppos'd fincere and holy in his thoughts,

He's follow'd both with body and with mind,
And doth enlarge his rifing with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret ftones;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
Tells them he doth beftride a bleeding land
Gafping for life under great Bolingbroke:
And more, and lefs, do flock to follow him.

Nor