style of comedy, the object of which is to detect the disguises of self-love, and to make reprisals on these preposterous assumptions of vanity, by marking the contrast between the real and the affected character as severely as possible, and denying to those who would impose on us for what they are not, even the merit which they have.  This is the comedy of artificial life, of wit and satire, such as we see it in Congreve, Wycherley, Vanbrugh, &c.  To this succeeds a state of society from which the same sort of affectation and pretence are banished by a greater knowledge of the world or by their successful exposure on the stage; and which by neutralizing the materials of comic character, both natural and artificial, leaves no comedy at all—­but the sentimental.  Such is our modern comedy.  There is a period in the progress of manners anterior to both these, in which the foibles and follies of individuals are of nature’s planting, not the growth of art or study; in which they are therefore unconscious of them themselves, or care not who knows them, if they can but have their whim out; and in which, as there is no attempt at imposition, the spectators rather receive pleasure from humouring the inclinations of the persons they laugh at, than wish to give them pain by exposing their absurdity.  This may be called the comedy of nature, and it is the comedy which we generally find in Shakespeare.—­Whether the analysis here given be just or not, the spirit of his comedies is evidently quite distinct from that of the authors above mentioned, as it is in its essence the same with that of Cervantes, and also very frequently of Moliere, though he was more systematic in his extravagance than Shakespeare.  Shakespeare’s comedy is of a pastoral and poetical cast.  Folly is indigenous to the soil, and shoots out with native, happy, unchecked luxuriance.  Absurdity has every encouragement afforded it; and nonsense has room to flourish in.  Nothing is stunted by the churlish, icy hand of indifference or severity.  The poet runs riot in a conceit, and idolizes a quibble.  His whole object is to turn the meanest or rudest objects to a pleasurable account.  The relish which he has of a pun, or of the quaint humour of a low character, does not interfere with the delight with which he describes a beautiful image, or the most refined love.  The clown’s forced jests do not spoil the sweetness of the character of Viola; the same house is big enough to hold Malvolio, the Countess, Maria, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew Aguecheek.  For instance, nothing can fall much lower than this last character in intellect or morals:  yet how are his weaknesses nursed and dandled by Sir Toby into something ’high fantastical’, when on Sir Andrew’s commendation of himself for dancing and fencing, Sir Toby answers:  ’Wherefore are these things hid?  Wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them?  Are they like to take dust like Mistress Moll’s picture?  Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home