THE SECOND PART OF Y IV. HENRY IT A T is uncommon to find the fame spirit and intereft diffufed through the fequel as in the first part of a play: but the fertile and happy mind of Shakespear could create or diverfify at pleasure; could produce new characters or vary the attitudes of those before exhibited according to the occafion. He leaves us in doubt, whether most to admire the fecundity of his imagination in the variety of its productions, or the strength and steadinefs of his genius in fuftaining the fpirit, and preserving unimpaired, through various circumstances and fituations, what his invention had originally produced. We shall hardly find any man to-day, more like to what he was yesterday, than the perfons here are like to what they were in the first part of Henry IV. This is the more astonishing as the author has not confined himself, as all other dramatic writers have done, to a certain theatrical character; which, formed entirely of one paffion, presents to us always the patriot, the lover, or the conqueror. These, still turning on the fame hinge, describe like a piece of clock-work a regular circle of movements. In human nature, of which Shakespear's characters are a juft imitation, every paffion is controlled and forced into many deviations by various incidental difpofitions and humours. The operations of this complicated machine are far more difficult to trace, than the steady undeviating line of the artificial character formed on one fimple principle. Our poet seems to have as great an advantage over ordinary dramatic poets, as Dædalus had above his predeceffors in fcalpture. They could make a representation of the limbs and features which compose the human form, he first had the skill to give it gesture, attitude, the eafy graces of real life, and exhibit its powers in a variety of exertions. We fhall again fee Northumberland timid and wavering, forward in confpiracy, yet hefitating to join in an action of doubtful iffue. King Henry is as prudent a politician on his death-bed as at council; his eye, juft before it closed for ever, ftretching itself beyond the hour of death, to the view of thofe dangers, which from the temper of the Prince of Wales, and the condition of the times, threatened his throne and family. I cannot help taking notice of the remarkable attention of the poet to the cautious and politic temper of Henry, when he makes him, even in fpeaking to his friends and par-tifans, diffemble fo far, in relating Richard's prophecy that Northumberland who helped 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 state, That I and greatnefs were compell'd to kiss. : To his fucceffor he expreffes himself very differently when he fays, Heaven knows, my fon, By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways These 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 fitness of making so 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, whofe intereft it was not to difgrace what 3 ever |