ations. Garrick's is the most judicious alteration, and is the one now generally performed. Otway has played a very cu rious trick with this drama, by transplanting all its most inter esting scenes into the tragedy of Caius Marius, where they make the most heterogeneous and incongruous mixture that can be conceived. It must have been laziness in Otway, who was so completely able to produce a tragedy of the very first rate, thus to borrow full half a one from another author. He confesses his obligations to Shakspeare in the prologue:

"And, from the crop of his luxurious pen,
E'er since succeeding poets humbly glean.
Though much the most unworthy of the throng,
Our this day's poet fears he 'as done him
wrong.
Like gaudy beggars that steal sheaves away,
You'll find he 'as rifled him of half a play;
Amidst his baser dross you'll see it shine,
Most beautiful, amazing, and divine."

Hamlet. Garrick, I believe, was the only person who at tempted to alter Hamlet. He struck out the grave-digger's scene, and the character of Osrick; but was afterwards so convinced of the necessity of these personages to the play, that he performed the original drama without his alterations, which never were published.

I have now noticed what I believe will be found to have been the principal alteration of Shakspeare's plays. Some must doubtless have escaped me, which other of your correspondents can probably supply. The great excellence and superiority of Shakspeare is abundantly proved and fully established by these various attempts to improve him, since no author has been thought worthy to have equal pains bestowed upon him; for though a few of Fletcher's and Jonson's plays have been altered, yet we cannot find an instance of one of their dramas being the spring whence four different plays have flowed, which is more than once the case with Shak speare. But the greatest proof of his superiority is, that so few of the attempts to improve him have succeeded. His plays

remain, and continue to encrease in popularity, while most of the altered copies of them sink entirely into oblivion. "The stream of time, which is continually washing away their fa brics, passes without injury by the adamant of Shakspeare." How much is it to be regretted that he never himself published an edition of his works, for, notwithstanding all the care and research of his numerous editors, it is but too certain that we have much in all his plays, which he never wrote. Dr. John, son justly observes that "more than has been suffered by any other writer since the use of types, has been suffered by him through his own negligence of fa ne, or perhaps by that superiority of mind, which despised its own performances, when it compared them with its powers, and judged those works un. worthy to be preserved, which the critics of following ages were to contend for the fame of restoring and explaining." Norwich, March 27, 1810.

T.

ALLEN, THE PLAYER,

AND

DULWICH COLLEGE.

It is well known that EDWARD ALLEN founded what is now called Dulwich COLLEGE; but how it acquired that distinction I cannot tell. The original grant was for the foundation of an hospital, as it is proved by the following letter of LORD BACON, which may be new and interesting to some readers. It is dated York House, Aug. 18, 1618," and signed, "Fr. Verulam, Canc."

"To the Marquis of Buckingham.

"My very good Lord,

"I thank your lordship for your last loving letter. I now write to give the king an account of a patent I have stayed at the seal. It is of licence to give in mortmain eight hundred pound land, though it be of tenure in chief, to ALLEN, that was the player, for an HOSPITAL.

"I like well that ALLEN playeth the last act of his life so well." Stephens's second Collection, p. 83.

BEN JONSON has added this tribute to the fame of ALLEN, in mimic life :

"If Rome so great, and in her wisest age,
Fear'd not to boast the glories of her stage;
As skilful Roscius, and grave Æsop, men
Yet crown'd with honours, as with riches then ;

Who had no less a trumpet of their name
Than Cicero, whose every breath was fame:
How can so great example die in me,

That, ALLEN, I should pause to publish thee;
Who both their graces in thyself has more
Outstript, than they did all that went before :
And present worth in all dost so contract-
As others speak, but only thou dost act?
Wear this renown-'tis just that who did give
So many poets life, by one should live.”

Of the present œconomy of this hospital, and how far it continues to square with the intention of its founder, I may speak in another paper. Here I shall merely observe, that the library, containing many very curious old books, is without a librarian, and its contents, covered with cobwebs and dust, are, like the picture-gallery, considered as so much lumber, and left to run into incurable decay. Not so the wine-cellar and the dining-room, whose stores, order, and arrangement, shew that they are honoured with special care and exclusive attention.*

As a proof of the value set on the books, (or rather the utter ignorance of the modern ALLENS on subjects of this na ture,) they have suffered Mr. MALONE to take away several uniques, (ugly looking things,) and to give them in return his pretty edition of SHAKSPEARE. "Exchange," it is true, "is no robbery," but a nearer thing has rarely happened! "Ego homuncio non facerem."

Wooden Cot. May 10.

* This is " rem benè administrare!" See the tablet in front of the hospital.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

HORACE IN LONDON.

BOOK I. ODE XXXVII.

The Poet rejoiceth on the Return of Tranquillity, after the Imprisonment of Sir Francis Burdett in the Tower.

Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero &c.

"Now broach ye a pipe of the best Malvoisie,".
'Tis sold at the Marmion Tavern,

Come, feast upon turtle, and sing a Scotch glee,
And dance round the table in grand jubilee,
Like so many hags in a cavern.

'Tis wrong to draw cork in the midst of a row,
Old Port is the devil when shaken;
The caption was novel, I needs must allow
An Englishman's house was his castle till now,
But castles are now and then taken.

Dame Fortune had given Sir Francis a dram,
Your drunkards will never be quiet;

He said, "Mr. Serjeant, your warrant's a sham,
Upheld by the rabble, I'll stay where I am-"
So London was all in a riot.

But soon Mr. Serjeant surmounted the basement,
Which only made John Bull the gladder;
For back he was push'd, to his utter amazement,
The baronet smiled, when he saw from the casement
His enemies mounting a ladder.

At length all the constables broke in below,
Quoth GIBBS, "It is legal, depend on't."
Thus riding in chace of a doe or a roe,
The flying bum-bailiff cries, "yoix! tally ho!"
And seizes the luckless defendant.

Sir FRANCIS, determin'd the question to try,
Was quietly reading law Latin;

Not able, and, therefore, not willing to fly,
He saw all the parliament forces draw nigh,
As firm as the chair that he sat in.

His lady sat by, and she play'd on her lute,
And sung
"Will you come to the bower,"
The Serjeant at Arms, who was hitherto mute,
Advanc'd, and exclaim'd, like an ill-natur'd brute,

"Sir KNIGHT, will you come to the Tower?"

He mounted the carriage, by numbers oppress'd,
But first, with no honest intention,

Like Queen Cleopatra he secretly press'd
Two serpents, in tender adieu, to his breast,
Whose names I had rather not mention.

"Tis thus other Wimbledon heroes attain
The summit of posthumous fame;

They dodge their pursuers thro' alley and lane,
But when they discover resistance is vain,

They kick up a dust, and die game!

J.