No Age, perhaps, can produce an Author more various from himself, than _Shakespeare_ has been universally acknowledg’d to be. The Diversity in Stile, and other Parts of Composition, so obvious in him, is as variously to be accounted for. His Education, we find, was at best but begun: and he started early into a Science from the Force of Genius, unequally assisted by acquir’d Improvements. His Fire, Spirit, and Exuberance of Imagination gave an Impetuosity to his Pen: His Ideas flow’d from him in a Stream rapid, but not turbulent; copious, but not ever overbearing its Shores. The Ease and Sweetness of his Temper might not a little contribute to his Facility in Writing; as his Employment, as a _Player_, gave him an Advantage and Habit of fancying himself the very Character he meant to delineate. He used the Helps of his Function in forming himself to create and express that _Sublime_, which other Actors can only copy, and throw out, in Action and graceful Attitude. But _Nullum fine Veniâ placuit Ingenium_, says _Seneca_. The Genius, that gives us the greatest Pleasure, sometimes stands in Need of our Indulgence. Whenever this happens with regard to _Shakespeare_, I would willingly impute it to a Vice of _his Times_. We see Complaisance enough, in our own Days, paid to a _bad Taste_. His _Clinches_, _false Wit_, and descending beneath himself, seem to be a Deference paid to _reigning Barbarism_. He was a _Sampson_ in Strength, but he suffer’d some such _Dalilah_ to give him up to the _Philistines_. As I have mention’d the Sweetness of his Disposition, I am tempted to make a Reflexion or two on a Sentiment of his, which, I am persuaded, came from the Heart. The Man, that hath no Musick in himself, Nor is not mov’d with Concord of sweet Sounds, Is fit for Treasons, Stratagems, and Spoils: The Motions of his Spirit are dull as Night, And his Affections dark as _Erebus_: Let no such Man be trusted.---- [Sidenote: A Lover of _Musick_.]