No one of the early prose testimonies to the genius of Shakspere has been more admired than that which bears the signature of John Dryden. I must transcribe it, accessible as it is elsewhere, for the sake of its juxtaposition with a less-known metrical specimen of the same nature.
"He [Shakspere] was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily: when he describes any thing, you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation: he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. I cannot say he is every where alike; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to him: no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets,
'Quantùm lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.'"
John Dryden, Of dramatick poesie, an essay.
London, 1668. 4to. p. 47.
The metrical specimen shall now take its place. Though printed somewhat later than the other, it has a much better chance of being accepted as a rarity in literature.
Prologue to Iulius Cæsar.
"In country beauties as we often see
Something that takes in their simplicity,
Yet while they charm they know not they are fair,
And take without their spreading of the snare—
Such artless beauty lies in Shakespear's wit;
'Twas well in spite of him whate'r he writ.