lighter pleasure it afforded in its progress.

History was a series of actions, with no other than chronological
succession, independent of each other, and without any tendency to
introduce or regulate the conclusion. It is not always very nicely
distinguished from tragedy. There is not much nearer approach to
unity of action in the tragedy of "Antony and Cleopatra", than in
the history of "Richard the Second". But a history might be continued
through many plays; as it had no plan, it had no limits.

Through all these denominations of the drama, Shakespeare's mode
of composition is the same; an interchange of seriousness and
merriment, by which the mind is softened at one time, and exhilarated
at another. But whatever be his purpose, whether to gladden or
depress, or to conduct the story, without vehemence or emotion,
through tracts of easy and familiar dialogue, he never fails to
attain his purpose; as he commands us, we laugh or mourn, or sit
silent with quiet expectation, in tranquillity without indifference.

When Shakespeare's plan is understood, most of the criticisms of
Rhymer and Voltaire vanish away. The play of "Hamlet" is opened,
without impropriety, by two sentinels; Iago bellows at Brabantio's
window, without injury to the scheme of the play, though in terms
which a modern audience would not easily endure; the character of
Polonius is seasonable and useful; and the Grave-diggers themselves
may be heard with applause.

Shakespeare engaged in dramatick poetry with the world open before
him; the rules of the ancients were yet known to few; the publick
judgment was unformed; he had no example of such fame as might