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the witty Sir Charles Sedley. This he attempts to refute in the following lines of the second prologue, spoken when the piece was represented before the king and queen at Whitehall:

If this for him had been by others done,

After this honour sure they'd claim their own.

But it is nevertheless certain, that Shadwell acknowledges obligations of the nature supposed, in the Dedication of the "True Widow" to Sir Charles Sedley. "No success whatever," he there says, "could have made me alter my opinion of this comedy, which had the benefit of your correction and alteration, and the honour of your approbation. And I heartily wish you had given yourself the trouble to have reviewed all my plays, as they came inaccurately, and in haste, from my hands: it would have been more to my advantage than the assistance of Scipio and Lelius was to Terence; and I should have thought it at least as much to my honour, since, by the effects, I find I cannot but esteem you as much above both of them in wit, as either of them was above you in place of the state."

There was a general opinion current, that Shadwell received assistance in his most successful pieces. A libel of the times, the reference to which I have mislaid, mentions with contempt the dulness of his "unassisted scenes."

Note XVI.

Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill,
And does thy northern dedications fill.---P. 438.

Sir Formal Trifle is a florid conceited orator in "The Virtuoso," whose character is drawn and brought out with no inconsiderable portion of humour. Dryden intimates, that his coxcomical inflated style attends Shadwell himself upon the most serious occasions, and particularly in his dedications to the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, to whom he has inscribed several of his plays. Hence Dryden, in the "Vindication of the Duke of Guise," calls him the Northern Dedicator. The truth is, that Shadwell's prose was inflated and embarrassed; and his adulation comes aukwardly from him, as appears from the opening of the dedication of that very play, "The Virtuoso," to the Duke of Newcastle.

"So long as your grace persists in obliging, I must go on in acknowledging; nor can I let any opportunity pass of telling the world how much I am favoured by you, or any occasion slip of assuring your grace, that all the actions of my life shall be dedicated to your service; who, by your noble patronage, your generosity and kindness, and your continual bounty, have made me wholly your creature: nor can I forbear to declare, that I am

more obliged to your grace than to all mankind. And my misfortune is, I can make no other return, but a declaration of my grateful attachment."

Note XVII.

Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame,
By arrogating Jonson's hostile name.---P. 439.

Shadwell, as appears from many passages of his prologues and prefaces, and as we have had repeated occasion to notice, affected to consider Ben Jonson as the object of his emulation. There were indeed many points of resemblance between them, both as authors and men. In their habits, a life spent in taverns, and in their persons, huge corpulence, probably acquired by habits of sensual indulgence, much coarseness of manners, and an ungentlemanly vulgarity of dialect, seem to have distinguished both the original and the imitator. As a dramatist, although Shadwell falls short of the learned vigour and deep erudition of Ben Jonson, his dry hard comic painting entitles him to be considered as an inferior artist of the same school. Dryden more particularly resented Shadwell's reiterated and affected praises of Jonson, because he had himself censured that writer in the epilogue to the " Conquest of Granada," and in the critical defence of that poem. Hence he considered Shadwell's ranking himself under Jonson's banners as a sort of personal defiance. But Dryden more particularly alludes to the following ebullition of admiration, which occurs in the epilogue to Shadwell's "Humorists:"

The mighty prince of poets, learned Ben,
Who alone dived into the minds of men;
Saw all their wanderings, all their follies knew,
And all their vain fantastic passions drew

In images so lively and so true,

That there each humorist himself might view.
Yet only lashed the errors of the times,

And ne'er exposed the persons, but the crimes;
And never cared for private frowns, when he
Did but chastise public iniquity:

He feared no pimp, no pick-pocket, or drab;

He feared no bravo, nor no ruffian's stab:

"Twas he alone true humours understood,

And with great wit and judgment made them good.
A humour is the bias of the mind,

By which with violence 'tis one way inclined;

* See Vol. IV. p. 211, &c.

It makes our actions lean on one side still,
And in all changes that way bends the will.
This-

He only knew and represented right.

Thus none, but mighty Jonson, e'er could write.
Expect not then, since that most flourishing age
Of Ben, to see true humour on the stage.
All that have since been writ, if they be scanned,
Are but faint copies from that master's hand.
Our poet now, amongst those petty things,
Alas! his too weak trifling humour brings;
As much beneath the worst in Jonson's plays,
As his great merit is above our praise.
For could he imitate that great author right,
He would with ease all poets else outwrite.
But to outgo all other men, would be,

O noble Ben! less than to follow thee.

Dryden, in the text, turns the idea of bias into ridicule; for its original application being to the leaden weight disposed in the centre of a bowl, which inclines its course in rolling, he alleges, that the only bias which can influence Shadwell is his predominant stupidity.

Note XIX.

Leave writing plays, and chuse for thy command,
Some peaceful province in Acrostic land.

There thou may'st wings display, and altars raise,

And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.---P. 440. Among other efforts of gentle dulness, may be noticed the singular fashion which prevailed during the earlier period of the 17th century, of writing in such changes of measure, that by the different length and arrangement of the lines, the poem was made to resemble an egg, an altar, a pair of wings, a cross, or some other fanciful figure. This laborious kind of trifling was much akin to the anagrams and acrostics. Those who are curious to read, or rather to see, a specimen of such whimsies, (for they are rather addressed to the eye than the understanding,) may find a dirge of Mr George Withers, arranged into the figure of a rhomboid, in Ellis's "Specimens of the Early English Poets," Vol. III. p. 100. They are mentioned with anagrams, acrostics, rebuses, and other exercises of false wit, in the "Spectator," No. 63.

END OF THE TENTH VOLUME.

Edinburgh,

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