David Mallet, 1759 (1705?-1765)
Pride of his own, and wonder of this age,
Who first created, and yet rules, the Stage,
Bold to design, all powerful to express,
Shakespear each passion drew in every dress:
Great above rule, and imitating none;
Rich without borrowing, nature was his own.
Yet is his sense debas’d by gross alloy:
As gold in mines lies mix’d with dirt and clay.
Now, eagle-wing’d, his heavenward flight he takes;
The big stage thunders, and the soul awakes:
Now, low on earth, a kindred reptile creeps;
Sad Hamlet quibbles, and the hearer sleeps.
Of Verbal Criticism, ll. 47-58. Works, 1759, vol. i. p. 21.