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Penelope's fuitors, only betray their weakness by an attempt fuperior to their firength, or ill adapted to their faculties. Why should not Poetry, in all her different forms, claim the fame indulgence as her fifter art? The nicest connoiffeurs in painting have applauded every mafter, who has justly copied nature. Had Michael Angelo's bold pencil been dedicated to drawing the Graces, or Rembrandt's to trace the foft bewitching fmile of Venus, their works had probably proved very contemptible. Fashion does not so easily impose on our fenfes, as it misleads our judgment. Truth of Defign, and natural colouring, will always pleafe the eye; we appeal not here to any set of rules: but in an imitative art we require only just imitation, with a certain freedom and energy, which is always neceffary to form a compleat refemblance to the pattern, which is borrowed from nature. I will own, the fir gures of gods and goddeffes, graceful nymphs, and beautiful Cupids, are fineṛ fubjects for the pencil, than ordinary human forms; yet if the painter imparts to

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these a resemblance to celebrated perfons, throws them into their proper attitudes, and gives a faithful copy of the Coftumi of the age and country, his work will create fenfations of a different, but not lefs pleasing kind, than those excited by the admiration of exquifite beauty, and perfect excellence of workmanship. Perhaps He should rather be accounted a nice Virtuofo than a consummate Critic, who prefers the Poet or Sculptor's fairest idea to the various and extenfive me→ rits of the hiftoric reprefentation.

Nothing great is to be expected from any fet of artists, who are to give only copies of copies. The treasures of nature are inexhauftible, as well in moral as in phyfical fubjects. The talents of Shakespear were univerfal, his penetrating mind faw through all characters; and, as Mr. Pope fays of him, he was not more a master of our ftrongest emotions, than of our idleft sensa

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One cannot wonder, that endued with fo

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great and various powers, he broke down the barriers that had before confined the dramatic writers to the regions of comedy, or tragedy. He perceived the fertility of the fubjects that lay between the two extreams; he saw, that in the historical play he could represent the manners of the whole people, give the general temper of the times, and bring in view the incidents that affected the common fate of his country. The Gothic mufe had a rude spirit of liberty, and delighted in painting popular tumults, the progrefs of civil wars, and the revolutions of government, rather than a catastrophe within the walls of a palace. At the time he wrote, the wars of the Houfes of York and Lancafter were fresh in mens minds. They had received the tale from fome Neftor in their family, or neighbourhood, who had fought in the battle, he related. Every spectator's affections were ranged under the white or red Rofe, in whose contentions fome had loft their parents and friends, others had gained establishments and honours.

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All 'the inducements which the Greek tragedians had to chufe their heroes from the works of the poets, who had sung the wars of Troy, and the Argonautic expedition, were still in greater force with our countryman to take his fubjects from the history and traditions of thofe more recent transactions, in which the fpectator was informed and interested more perfonally and locally. There was not a. family so low, that had not had some of its branches torn off in the ftorms of these inteftine commotions: nor a valley fo happily retired, that at fome time, the foot of hoftile paces had not bruis'd her flow'rets. In thefe characters the rudest peasant read the fad history of his country: while the better fort were informed of the most minute circumstances by our chronicles. The tragedians who took their fubjects from Homer, had all the advantage a painter would have, who was to draw a picture from a statue of Phidias or Praxiteles. Poor Shakespear from the wooden images

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images in our mean chronicles was to form his portraits. What judgment was there in discovering, that by moulding them to an exact resemblance he fhould engage and please! And what discernment and penetration into characters, and what amazing fkill in moral painting, to be able, from fuch uncouth models, to bring forth not only a perfect, but, when occafion required, a graceful likeness!

The patterns from which he drew, were not only void of poetical spirit and ornament, but also of all historical dignity. The histories of those times were a mere heap of rude undigested annals, coarse in their style, and crouded with trivial anecdotes. No Tacitus had investigated the obliquities of our statesmen, or by diving into the profound fecrets of policy had dragged into light the latent motives, the fecret machinations of our politicians: yet how does he enter into the deepest mysteries of ftate! There cannot be a ftronger proof of

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