The fable of _As you like it_, which is supposed to be copied from _Chaucer's_ Gamelyn, was a little pamphlet of those times; and old Mr._Cibber_ remembered the tale of _Hamlet_ in plain _English_ prose, which the criticks have now to seek in _Saxo Grammaticus._ His _English_ histories he took from _English_ chronicles and _English_ ballads; and as the ancient writers were made known to his countrymen by versions, they supplied him with new subjects; he dilated some of _Plutarch's_ lives into plays, when they had been translated by _North_.
His plots, whether historical or fabulous, are always crouded with incidents, by which the attention of a rude people was more easily caught than by sentiment or argumentation; and such is the power of the marvellous even over those who despise it, that every man finds his mind more strongly seized by the tragedies of _Shakespeare_ than of any other writer; others please us by particular speeches, but he always makes us anxious for the event, and has perhaps excelled all but _Homer_ in securing the first purpose of a writer, by exciting restless and unquenchable curiosity and compelling him that reads his work to read it through.

The shows and bustle with which his plays abound have the same original.

As knowledge advances, pleasure passes from the eye to the ear, but returns, as it declines, from the ear to the eye.

Those to whom our authour's labours were exhibited had more skill in pomps or processions than in poetical language, and perhaps wanted some visible and discriminated events, as comments on the dialogue.

He knew how he should most please; and whether his practice is more agreeable to nature, or whether his example has prejudiced the nation, we still find that on our stage something must be done as well as said, and inactive declamation is very coldly heard, however musical or elegant, passionate or sublime.
_Voltaire_ expresses his wonder, that our authour's extravagances are endured by a nation, which has seen the tragedy of _Cato_.