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IN adding another to the many editions of Shakspeare already published, it may be justly expected

that the promoters should shew on what peculiar grounds they rest their claims to preference. The mere multiplying of impressions, unaccompanied by some distinctive excellence, would be to confer no benefit on the Public, and be productive of little advantage to themselves. Aware of the justice of this position, the Proprietors of the present Edition are desirous of briefly stating what they conceive to be fair reasons why they should hope to at least divide the palm with their competitors.

As a chief object, they have laboured for CORRECTNESS. The Reader is assured, that the following pages have not been passed through the press in a hasty or slovenly manner. The utmost diligence has been used to prevent the occurrence of errors; and the best edition of Johnson, Steevens, and Reed, has been diligently consulted, even to the scrupulous revision of every point.

A principal feature, by which the present Edition is distinguished from all others yet published in a single volume, is the valuable illustrative matter with which it is enriched. All that could tend to elucidate the text, or illumine the obscurity which envelopes the great Bard and the Dramatic History of his time, has been collected from every authentic source, and the essence of many scarce and high-priced volumes, only to be found in the libraries of the opulent, presented for the first time to the General Reader. The Variorum Notes are placed at the end of the volume, to prevent the interruption and confusion arising from their accompanying the text, and those only preserved which tend to elucidate real difficulties. The Glossary we may affirm to be more copious than in any other edition.

There are fifty-one Embellishments, engraved by the best artists. Those which accompany the Prolegomena cannot fail to prove interesting, and the Illustrations to the Plays and Poems are from the designs of the most eminent masters. Some stress may also be laid on the fine Head of Shakspeare, and the very novel feature of the Eight Portraits of eminent by-gone Performers who have been distinguished for personating his characters. But the main point, on which the rea value of their labours must inevitably depend, is, the extreme cheapness of their volume, which presents the entire Works of our immortal Poet, adorned by the talents of the critic, the antiquary and the engraver, at the very low price usually charged for a common and incorrect edition of hi PLAYS ALONE, without either Poems, Hlustrative Matter, or Embellishments; and the Pro prietors cannot but feel they have attained an object of no mean importance, in thus placing withi the reach of the humblest Reader, the cheapest and most complete Edition of the Works of Shak speare that has ever yet been published.

As several of our best Commentators have agreed in rejecting the plays of Titus Andr nicus and Pericles, some apology may be expected for retaining them. Steevens's excuse for th same proceeding may be fairly quoted :-Some ancient prejudices in their favour may still exist to which may be added, that they have usually accompanied all editions of repute.

JUNE, 1825.

Gye and Balne, Printers 42 church Street.


Biographical Memoir of Shakspeare. AFTER all the laborious research which has been This account turns out to be very incorrect; for on expended on the subject of Shakspeare's biogra- reference to the authorities cited, we find that the phy, few particulars are known on those points Shakspeares, though their property was respectwhich would be most gratifying to the curiosity able, never rose above the rank of tradesmen or of his rational admirers. We may trace his an- husbandmen. Nothing is known of the immediate cestors to the doomsday book, and his posterity ancestors of John Shakspeare, the poet's father, till they dwindle into tongueless obscurity; but who was originally a glover, afterwards a butcher, of his own habits and domestic character we know and in the last place, a wool-stapler, in the town of comparatively nothing. During his early days, his Stratford. Being very industrious, his wealth gave path in life was so humble, that all our inquiries him importance among his neighbours, and having necessarily terminate in disappointment; and of served various offices in the borough with credit, the more busy period of his existence, when he he ultimately obtained its supreme municipal howrote for the stage, and was the public favourite, nours, being elected high-bailiff, at Michaelmas, his remarkable humility of mind and manners in- 1568. His townsfolk no doubt considered this the daced him to avoid the eye of notoriety; and, un- summit of earthly felicity; but however reverend fortunately, there was no Boswell or Medwin to the corporation of Stratford in its own estimation, make memoranda of his conversations, or transmit we cannot but smile at these erudite sages, out of to our times a fac-simile of the great dramatist in nineteen of whom, as we find from their signatures, the familiar moments of relaxation and friendly in- attached to a public document, 1564, only seven were tercourse. Such hiatuses in the life of Shakspeare able to write their names. While chief magistrate of cannot now be supplied; more than two hundred the borough, and on his marriage with Mary Arden, years have elapsed since his mortal remains were he obtained a grant of arms from the Herald's left to moulder beneath a tomb, over which Time College, and was allowed to impale his own achievehas shaken the dust of his wings too often to allow ment with that of the ancient family of the Ardens. of our recovering details, local and fugitive, how- In the deed respecting John Shakspeare, his proever interesting. Rowe was the first, whose re-perty is declared to be worth five hundred pounds, searches elicited anything like a satisfactory memoir of our great bard. Poets and critics have laboriously re-trodden his steps; the genius of Pope and the acumen of Johnson have been employed on the same subject, but the sun of their adoration had gone down before their intellectual telescopes were levelled to discover its perfections. Malone has done the most, and appears indeed to have exhausted the subject; but, from inadvertency or carelessness, he has overlooked many particulars which deserve preservation. Having turned over a variety of books, and consulted every accessible anthority, we shall attempt to condense, under one head, such recollections of Shakspeare, as are at present scattered over many volumes, as well as the more obvious and familiar portions of his history. It appears a family, designated indifferently Sharper, Shakespeare, Shakspere, and Shakspeare, were well known in Warwickshire during the sixteenth century. Rowe says: "It seems by the register and other public writings of Stratford, that the poet's family were of good figure and fashion there, and are mentioned as gentlemen."

a sum by no means inconsiderable in those days; and, on the whole, we have sufficient evidence of his worldly prosperity. From some unexplained causes, however, his affairs began to alter for the worse about 1574, and after employing such expedients to relieve his growing necessities as in the end served only to aggravate them, he at length fell into such extreme poverty, that he was obliged to give security for a debt of five pounds; and a distress issuing for the seizure of his goods, it was returned: "Joh'es Shak spere nihil habet unde distr. potest levari." (John Shakspere has no effects on which a distraint can be levied.) During the last ten years of his life we have no particular account of his circumstances; but, as in 1597 he describes himself as "of very small wealth and very few friends," we may justly suppose that he remained in great indigence. He seems, indeed, to have fallen into decay with his native town, the trade of which was almost ruined; as we may learn from the supplication of the burgesses, in 1590. The town had then "fallen into much decay, for want of such trade as heretofore they had by

clothing, and making of yarn, employing and maintaining a number of poor people by the same, which now live in great penury and misery, by reason they are not set at work as before they have been."

John Shakspeare died in 1601. His family consisted of eight children, Jane, Margaret, William, Gilbert, Lorie, Anne, Richard, and Edmund. Lorie and Margaret died when but a few months old. Of Gilbert nothing is known but the register of his baptism. Jane married one Hart, a hatter of Stratford, and died in 1646, leaving three sons. She is mentioned with much kindness in her illustrious brother's will; and the descendants of her children were to be found in Stratford within these few years. In 1794, a house of Shakspeare's, in Henley-street, belonged to Thomas Hart, a butcher, and the sixth in descent from Jone. Anne Shakspeare died an infant; Richard, according to the parish register, was buried in 1612. Edmund Shakspeare, actuated probably by his brother's reputation at the theatre, became an actor: he performed at the Globe, lived in St. Saviour's, Southwark, and was interred in the churchyard of that parish, on the 31st of December, 1607.

William Shakspeare was born April 23d, 1561, at Stratford-upon-Avon. The house, in which the poet first saw the light, was bought in 1597, from a family of the name of Underhill. It had been called the great house, not because it is really large, but on account of its having been at that time the best in the town. In its present dilapidated state, the ablest artists have exerted their skill, to preserve the outline of so remarkable a building for the gratification of posterity, and the most minute particulars concerning it have been collected with the utmost avidity.

The chamber, in which our unrivalled dramatist is said to have drawn his first breath, is pencilled over with the names of innumerable visitors in every grade of life. Royalty has been proud to pay this simple tribute to exalted intellect; and genius has paused in its triumphis, to inscribe these hallowed walls with the brief sentences which record its love and veneration for the wonderful

man, who once recognised this lowly tenement as his home. The following lines are ascribed to Lucien Buonaparte, who, during his stay in England, made an excursion into Warwickshire, expressly to gratify his curiosity respecting our all praised Shakspeare:

"The eye of Genius glistens to admire

How memory hails the sound of Shakspeare's lyre. One tear I'll shed to form a crystal shrine Of all that's grand, immortal, and divine. Let princes o'er their subject kingdoms rule, Tis Shakspeare's province to command the soul! To add one leaf, oh, Shakspeare! to thy bays, How vain the effort, and how mean my lays! Immortal Shakspeare! o'er thy hallow'd page, Age becomes taught, and youth is e'en made sage." This house, so venerable on account of its former inmate, is now divided, one part being a butcher's shop, and the other a public-house.

Of Shakspeare's infancy we know nothing, except that he narrowly escaped falling a victim to the plague, which at that time almost depopulated his native town. We next find him at the free grammar-school of Stratford, where we may suppose he acquired the "small Latin and less Greek," for which Ben Jonson gives him credit. But even this imperfect species of education was soon interrupted, the poverty of his father presenting an insurmountable obstacle to his further progress. There can be little doubt, however, that his quick and apprehensive mind would profit materially even by this limited supply of instruction. In after life, he seems to have been acquainted with Italian and French, but these languages he probably acquired through his own unassisted industry. He now for a considerable period remained at home, and attended to his father's occupation, that

of a butcher; and Aubrey, an author in whom w should not put implicit confidence, relates the young Shakspeare killed a calf "in high style," an graced the slaughter with an oration. The sam writer informs us, that growing disgusted with th employment, he commenced schoolmaster, but thi from his juvenility at the time mentioned, is high improbable.

Shakspeare's eighteenth year was scarcely pas when, relinquishing his school, or his office, (f Malone makes him an attorney's clerk,) he ve tured to contract that important engagement, which the happiness or misery of life general turns. He selected for his wife Anne Hathawa the daughter of a reputable yeoman in the vicini of Stratford. At her marriage, she was eight yea older than her husband, and Shakspeare's domes felicity does not appear to have been advanced the connection. In the year following, 1583, 1 daughter Susanna was born; and in eighte months afterwards, his wife bore him twins, a b and a girl, baptized by the names of Hamnet a Judith. This was the whole of the poet's famil from which we are perhaps justified in concludin as there are other circumstances to strength the opinion, that his connubial lot was not en able; indeed, his wife's years were so ill-assort to his own, that little congeniality of sentime was to be expected. Hamnet, Shakspeare's o son, died at the early age of twelve years, event long and deeply regretted: the daughte Susanna and Judith, were married, and had ch dren. Shakspeare's last lineal descendant w Lady Barnard, buried, in 1670, at Abingdon Berkshire. Some branches of the family still exi and are resident at Tewkesbury and Stratfor they are in great indigence, and it reflects disgra on the age, that a proposal for their benefit, recen made, received hardly any attention. Surely, wh our nobility patronise the refuse of society, in t shape of pedestrians and pugilists, their generos might be exercised in succouring those who cla kindred with him, who was the glory of his coun and of human nature.

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The marriage of our bard proved his want worldly prudence; nor was the next importa event of his life of a discreeter nature, yet it to his London journey, and consequently was t first step towards his future distinction. speare (we quote from Dr. Drake,) was now all appearances settled in the country; he w carrying on his own and his father's business; was married, and had a family around him; a sit tion in which the comforts of domestic priva might be predicted within his reach, but whi augured little of that splendid destiny, that univ sal fame, and unparalleled celebrity, which awa ed his future career." Mere trifles frequen change the whole course of existence, and so happened in the present instance. Shakspear companions were loose and dissolute, idle, and i moderately fond of pleasure, and some of th embryo dramatist was often induced to join th were in the frequent practice of deer-stealing. I in their predatory exploits, particularly in th intrusious on the property of sir Thomas Lucy, Charlecote, in the neighbourhood of Stratfo Detection followed; and Shakspeare, imagini himself treated with undue severity, aflixed in venge a scurrilous ballad to the gate of Char cote Park. The whole of this offensive product has been recently discovered; we copy it as a riosity, though it certainly does no credit to head or heart of the author.

Complete Copy of the Verses on Sir Thomas Lu
A parliament member, a justice of peace,
At home a poor scarecrow, in London an asse:
If Lucy is lowsic, as some volke miscall it,
Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it,

He thinks bymself greate, yet an asse in hys state,
We allewe bye his cares but with asses to mate:
If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it,
Syage lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.

He's a haughty, proud, insolent knighte of the shire,
At home nobodye loves, yet there's many him feare
If Lucy is lowsic, as some volke miscall it,

Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.

To the sessions he went, and did sorely complain

His parke had been robb'd, and his deer they were slaine:
This Lacy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it,
Syage lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.

He said 'twas a ryot, his men had been beat,
His venson was stole, and clandestinely eat:
Soe Lacy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it.
Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.

So haughty was he when the fact was confess'd,
He sayd 'twas a crime that could not be redress'd:
Se Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it,
Synge fowsie Lucy whatever befall it.
Though lucies a dozen he paints in his coat,
His name it shall Lowsic for Lucy be wrote:
For Lacy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it,
Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.
If a juvenile frolick he cannot forgive,
We'll synge lowsie Lucy as long as we live:
And Lucy the lowsie a fibel may call it,
We'll synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.

Sir Thomas, enraged at this aggravation of injury by insult, increased in harshness to the juvenile offender, who soon felt compelled to quit the home of his infancy, and the residence of his family. The time of his departure is doubtful; it was probably about 1585. This whole story, however, has lately fallen into disrepute, and his removal to London has been ascribed to natural inclination, or domestic infelicity; perhaps estrangement from his wife. This supposition is in a degree confirmed, by the negligent way in which she is noticed in his will; and the circumstance of his not living with her after 1584. It is singular too, that an entry appears in the Stratford register, which records the burial of a child named Thomas Green, alias Shakspeare." The conclusion which may be drawn from this circumstance is evident. For the sake of the poet's memory, we trust that the deer-stealing story is fabulous; but it is certainly confirmed by several particulars in the Second Part of Henry IV. and, indeed, by the whole character of Justice Shallow.

The inhabitants of Shakspeare's native town were passionately fond of dramatic entertainments. Travelling companies of players appear to have visited Stratford on more than twenty occasions, between 1569, (when the poet was under six years of age,) and 1587. Burbage and Green, two celebrated actors, were his townsmen, and even from childhood his attention must have been attracted to the stage, by the powerful influence of novelty, and in all probability, by his personal acquaintance with some of the comedians. When, therefore, his views in life were unavoidably altered, it was natural that the theatre should present itself to his mind as his best asylum; and directing his fugitive steps to the metropolis, he became a player, and in the end, a writer for the stage. The tale of Shakspeare's attending at the Globe, on his first arrival in London, to take the charge of gentlemen's horses, during the performance, is much doubted at present; but it seems likely that the first office he held in the theatre, was that of call-boy, or prompter's attendant. He did not long continue in that capacity, being soon admitted to perform minor parts in the popular plays of that period.

Shakspeare followed the profession of an actor opwards of seventeen years, and till within about thirteen years of his death; but we have good reason to suppose that six shillings and eight-pence a week was the highest reward of his dramatic efforts. Of his merit as a player, we have no positive data on which to found an estimate, and accordingly there is great difference of opinion among his critics. Tragedians and dramafists were not then so jealously watched as at present; diurnal reviewers were unknown, and an actor's fame depended entirely on the caprice of

judges, who were too frequently very incompetent to form a correct decision. From some satirical passages in the writings of his contemporaries, we may fairly suppose that he was not a favourite performer with the public. His instructions to the players in Hamlet, however, bespeak such mastery in their art, and are in themselves so excellent, that we are strongly inclined to believe, that his unpopularity must be attributed more to the bad taste of his auditors, than from the deficiency of his own powers. Acting, considered as a science, was then in its infancy; be that "strutted and bellowed' most, would be esteemed the best actor. Shakspeare's adherence to nature would be misunderstood, and his gentleness would be censured as tameness.

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The only characters, which we know with certainty to have been personated by Shakspeare, are the Ghost in Hamlet, and Adam in As You Like It: his name appears in the list of players attached to Ben Jonson's Sejanus, and Every Man in his Humour; but it is sufficiently evident, that he never sustained any very important part; and, but for his genius as a poet, which neither indigence nor obscurity could repress, that name, which we now repeat with reverence and love, would have been lost in the darkness of oblivion. That Shakspeare was not more successful on the stage, might arise from the injustice and false taste of his audience; but this is hardly to be lamented, since, had he been eminent as an actor, he would probably have neglected composition. "It may indeed be considered (says Dr. Drake) as a most fortunate circumstance for the lovers of dramatic poetry, that our author, in point of execution, did not attain to the loftiest summit of his profession. He would in that case, it is very probable, have either sat down content with the high reputation accruing to him from this source, or would have found little time for the labours of composition; and consequently, we should have been in a great degree, if not altogether, deprived of what now constitutes the noblest efforts of human genius."

Despised as an actor, Shakspeare aspired to distinction as an author; and notwithstanding his mighty capacity, he was for a long time content with altering and revising the productions of others. Of the dramas produced previous to 1600, there were some which abounded with felicitous ideas and effective situations; but the writers had used their materials with little skill, and the touch of a master was required, to reduce them to order and consistency. The noblest geniuses of the age did not refuse such employment. Decker, Rowley, Heywood, and Jonson, were often occupied in conferring value on such productions; and to this unthankful labour, the early efforts of our bard were modestly confined.

Dramatists were, generally speaking, abjectly poor; they were enthralled by managers, either for past favours, existing debts, or the well-founded ap- · prehension of needing their assistance. What can be more affecting, than to find the illustrious Ben Jonson supplicating from Henslowe the advance of a sum so paltry as "five shillings?" The calling Shakspeare embraced was, in a majority of instances, anything rather than profitable: his mighty mind could scarcely have selected any sphere of action more barren of reward; but the camp, the senate, and the bar, were then almost exclusively filled by the young scions of nobility, and preferring to be first among his brother authors, however humble their prospects, he poured out all the wealth of his intellect on the stage, and laid the foundation of a renown, which is perpetually increasing, and is never likely to be equalled.

No portion of Shakspeare's history is more obscure than the period at which he first ventured to rely on the resources of his own mind, and produce

an original drama on the stage which he had so often trod unnoticed. Every attempt to select from the long list of his wonderful productions the one which had paved the way for his future eminence, his maiden effort in the arena of his coming glories, has ended in uncertainty and disappointment. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and the Comedy of Errors, have been pitched upon, but almost any of his other plays might have been chosen with an equal approximation to truth. Our bard, however, was well known as a dramatic writer in 1592, and there is reason to suppose that all his compositions for the stage were written between 1590 and 1613, a period of about twenty-three years. And when it is considered that we possess thirty of his plays, which are indisputably genuine, besides several, the authenticity of which is doubtful, the marvellous power and range of his intellect will be sufficiently evident. According to the chronological order in which the critics have placed his dramas, his genius appears in full vigour from its first flight to the moment when its eagle pinions became quiescent for ever. A Midsummer Night's Dream is the second inscription on the luminous column of his renown. Othello, The Tempest, and Twelfth Night, are engraven in characters of light on its base. Other minds have had their infancy, their maturity, and their decline. In other intellects, even the most resplendent, we observe the unfoldings of genius, as of the gradual unfolding of the morning's light, its maturity as of the full blaze of noon, and its decline and decay as the twilight of evening and the darkness of night. Milton wrote Sampson Agonistes before Paradise Lost, and Paradise Regained after it; but the rise, progress, and termination of Shakspeare's brilliant career were equally glorious. In combining author and actor in his own person, the dramatist might in some degree alleviate his pecuniary difficulties, but it could scarcely have redeemed him from the indigence under which his brother writers were suffering; yet his superlative merits as a poet soon advanced him in the regard of the great and the noble. The players in his time were constantly denominated and treated as servants; and when the

actor's duty made his presence necessary at hi patron's mansion, the buttery was the only place t which he expected admittance. On the contrary the friendship of the dramatist was frequent! sought by the opulent: even noblemen made hi their companion, and chose him at once as the objec of bounty and esteem. In this manner, Shakspear became the bosom associate of the all-accomplishe lord Southampton. That nobleman's father-in-law sir Thomas Heminge, was treasurer of the queen chamber, in which capacity it was his duty to re ward the actors employed at court: thus plays an players were almost forced upon the notice of lo Southampton, and the hold theatrical amusemen had on his mind, is evident, even at a late peric of his life, from his shunning the court for a diurn attendance at the Globe; his entertainment of Ce with "plaies;" and his ordering Richard II. to performed on the night previous to the rebellion the earl of Essex. Shakspeare's intimacy wi Southampton commenced when the latter w about twenty years of age, and from the dedic tions prefixed to Venus and Adonis in 1593, and t Rape of Lucrece in 1594, it is apparent that the friendship was cemented by great liberality in t patron, and lively gratitude in the poet.

Rowe, on the authority of Davenant, relates, th in order to enable Shakspeare to complete a p chase, Southampton at one time presented him wi a thousand pounds, a gift truly princely. T tradition derives credit from the wealth which t dramatist is known to have possessed in a f years subsequently to bis arrival in London; for is contrary to probability, that his opulence co have arisen from his emoluments, either as ac or author. All his original productions were s absolutely to the theatre, and the gain accru from them could not have been large, as he neit published his plays, nor received advantage fr their dedication to the wealthy. Some of his d mas were printed in his life-time; but this was do surreptitiously, and was at once a fraud on auth proprietor, and reader.

Of Shakspeare's comparative opulence there be no doubt; in 1597, he purchased NEW PLACE,

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