But in these things the unskilful are naturally deceived, and
judging wholly by the bulk, think rude things greater than polished,
and scattered more numerous than composed; nor think this only to be
true in the sordid multitude, but the neater sort of our gallants;
for all are the multitude, only they differ in clothes, not in
judgment or understanding.
De Shakspeare nostrat.--Augustus in Hat.--I remember the players
have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare, that in his
writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line. My
answer hath been, "Would he had blotted a thousand," which they
thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this but for
their ignorance who chose that circumstance to commend their friend
by wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own candour, for I
loved the man, and do honour his memory on this side idolatry as
much as any. He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free
nature, had an excellent phantasy, brave notions, and gentle
expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes it
was necessary he should be stopped. "Sufflaminandus erat," {47a} as
Augustus said of Haterius.
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