Who else can speak fo very, very fine,
That fenfe may kindly end with ev'ry line?
Some dozen lines before the ghoft is there,
Behold him for the folemn fcene prepare;

905

See how he frames his eyes, poizes each limb,
Puts the whole body into proper trim:

910

From whence we learn, with no great ftretch of art,

Five lines hence comes a ghost; and, Ha! a start.
When he appears most perfect, ftill we find
Something which jars upon and hurts the mind:
Whatever lights upon a part are thrown,

915

We fee too plainly they are not his own:
No flame from Nature ever yet he caught,
Nor knew a feeling which he was not taught:
He rais'd his trophies on the base of art,
And conn'd his paffions as he conn'd his part.

920

Quin, from afar, lur'd by the fcent of fame,

A ftage leviathan, put in his claim,

Pupil of Betterton and Booth. Alone,

Sullen he walk'd, and deem'd the chair his own;
For how should moderns, mushrooms of the day,
Who ne'er those masters knew, know how to play ?-
Grey-bearded vet'rans, who with partial tongue,

925

Extol the times when they themselves were young;
Who having loft all relish for the stage,

See not their own defects, but lafh the age;

930

Receiv'd, with joyful murmurs of applaufe,

Their darling chief, and lin'd his fav'rite cause.

Far be it from the candid Mufe, to tread

Infulting o'er the afhes of the dead;

But, just to living merit, fhe maintains,

935

And dares the test, whilst Garrick's genius reigns,

Tho' we deny imaginary grace,

Founded on accidents of time and place,
Yet real worth of ev'ry growth fhall bear

Due praise; nor muft we, Quin, forget thee there.

His words bore fterling weight; nervous and ftrong, <In manly tides of fenfe they roll'd along :

Happy in art, he chiefly had pretence
To keep up numbers, yet not forfeit sense.
No actor ever greater heights could reach,

945

In all the labour'd artifice of fpeech.

950

Speech is that all And fhall an actor found

An univerfal fame on partial ground?

Parrots themselves fpeak properly by rote,

And in fix months my dog fhall howl by note.

I laugh at those who, when the stage they tread,
Neglect the heart to compliment the head;
With strict propriety their care's confin'd
To weigh out words, while paffion halts behind:
To fyllable-diffectors they appeal,
Allow them accent, cadence-fools

may

feel;

But, fpite of all the criticifing elves,

Those who would make us feel, muft feel themselves!
His eyes in gloomy focket taught to roll,
Proclaim'd the fullen habit of his foul:
Heavy and phlegmatick he trod the stage,
Too proud for tenderness, too dull for rage.
When Hector's lovely widow fhines in tears,
Or Rowe's gay rake dependent virtue jeers,
With the fame caft of features he is feen
To chide the libertine, and court the queen.
From the tame scene, which without paffion flows,

955

960

965

970

With just desert his reputation rofe;

Nor lefs he pleas'd, when, on fome furly plan,

He was, at once, the actor and the man.

In Brute he fhone unequall'd: all agree, Garrick's not half so great a Brute as he

975

When

When Cato's labour'd fcenes are brought to view,
With equal praise the actor labour'd too;
For ftill you'll find, trace paffions to their root,
Small diff'rence 'twixt the ftoick and the brute.
In fancy'd scenes, as in life's real plan,
He could not, for a moment, fink the man.
In whate'er caft his character was laid,
Self ftill, like oil, upon the furface play'd.
Nature, in fpite of all his fkill, crept in :
Horatio, Dorax, Falstaff-ftill 'twas Quin.

Next follows Sheridan-a doubtful name,
As yet unfettled in the rank of fame :
This, fondly lavish in his praises grown,

980

985

Gives him all merit, that allows him none.

990

Between them both we'll fteer the middle course,

Nor, loving praise, rob judgment of her force.
Juft his conceptions, natural and great,
His feelings ftrong, his words enforc'd with weight.

Was fpeech-fam'd Quin himself to hear him speak,

995

Envy would drive the colour from his cheek;
But ftep-dame Nature, niggard of her grace,
Deny'd the focial pow'rs of voice and face.
Fix'd in one frame of features, glare of eye,
Paffions, like chaos, in confufion lie:
In vain the wonders of his skill are try'd
To form diftinctions Nature hath deny'd.
His voice no touch of harmony admits,
Irregularly deep, and fhrill, by fits;

The two extremes appear like man and wife,
Coupled together for the fake of strife.

His actions always ftrong, but fometimes such,
That candour must declare he acts too much.

Why muft impatience fall three paces back?

Why paces three return to the attack ?
Why is the right leg, too, forbid to ftir,
Unless in motion femi-circular?

1000

1005

1010

Why

Why muft the hero with the Nailor vie,

And hurl the close-clinch'd fift at nose or eye ?

In Royal John, with Philip angry grown,

I thought he would have knock'd poor Davies down.
Inhuman tyrant! was it not a shame, i

To fright a king fo harmless and so tame?

1015

But, fpite of all defects, his glories rise,

And art, by judgment form'd, with Nature vies."
Behold him found the depth of Hubert's foul,

1020

Whilft in his own contending paffions roll :

View the whole fcene, with critick judgment fcan,
And then deny him merit, if you can.

Where he falls fhort, 'tis Nature's fault alone;

1025

Where he fucceeds, the merit's all his own.

Laft, Garrick came-Behind him throng a train

Of fnarling Criticks, ignorant as vain.

One finds out- He's of ftature fomewhat low;

• Your hero always fhould be tall, you know:
• True nat❜ral greatness all confifts in height.'
Produce your voucher, Critick.- Serjeant Kite.'
Another can't forgive the paltry arts

1030

By which he makes his way to fhallow hearts;

Mere pieces of fineffe, traps for applause.

1035

• Avaunt! unnatʼral start, affected pause.'

For me, by Nature form'd to judge with phlegm,

I can't acquit by wholefale, nor condemn.

The best things carried to excess are wrong;

The start may be too frequent, paufe too long;
But, only us'd in proper time and place,
Severeft judgment must allow them grace.
If bunglers, forin'd on imitation's plan,
Juft in the way that monkies mimick man,
Their copy'd fcene with mangled arts difgrace,
And pause and start with the fame vacant face,
We join the critick laugh; thofe tricks we scorn,
Which spoil the scenes they mean them to adorn ;

1040

1045

But

But when, from Nature's pure and genuine fource,
Thefe ftrokes of acting flow with gen'rous force,
When in the features all the foul's pourtray'd,
And paffions fuch as Garrick's are difplay'd,
To me they seem from quickeft feelings caught,
Each start is Nature, and each pause is thought.
When reafon yields to paffion's wild alarms,
And the whole ftate of man is up in arms,
What but a critick could condemn the play'r
For paufing here, when cool fenfe paufes there?
Whilft, working from the heart, the fire I trace,
And mark it ftrongly flaming to the face;
Whilft in each found I hear the very man,
I can't catch words, and pity those who can.
Let wits, like fpiders, from the tortur'd brain
Fine-draw the critick-web with curious pain;
The gods-a kindness I with thanks must pay-
Have form'd me of a coarser kind of clay;
Nor ftung with envy, nor with spleen difeas'd,
A poor dull creature, still with Nature pleas'd:
Hence to thy praises, Garrick, I agree,

1050

1055

1060

1065

And pleas'd with Nature, muft be pleas'd with thee.

1070

Now might I tell how filence reign'd throughout,

And deep attention hush'd the rabble rout;

How ev'ry claimant, tortur'd with defire,

Was pale as ashes, or as red as fire;

But, loose to fame, the Muse more fimply acts,

1075

Rejects all flourish, and relates mere facts.

The judges, as the sev'ral parties came,

With temper heard, with judgment weigh'd each claim;
And, in their fentence happily agreed,

In name of both, great Shakespeare thus decreed.

1080

• If manly sense; if Nature link'd with art;

If thorough knowledge of the human heart;

• If pow'rs of acting, vaft and unconfin'd;
• If feweft faults with greatest beauties join'd;