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with a kind of religious addresse; it hath bin the height set forth, and ouerseen his owne writings; But since it of our care, who are the Presenters, to make the present hath bin ordain'd otherwise, and he by death departed worthy of yovr H. H. by the perfection. But, there | from that right, we pray you doe not envie his Friends, we must also craue our abilities to be considered, my the office of their care, and paine, to have collected and Lords. We cannot go beyond our owne powers. publish'd them; and so to have publish'd them, as Country hands reach foorth milke, creame, fruites, or where (before) you were abus'd with divers stolne, and what they haue: and many Nations, (we haue heard,) | surreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the that had not gummes and incense, obtained their requests frauds and stealthes of iniurious impostors, that expos d with a leauened Cake. It was no fault to approch their them: even those, are now offer'd to your view curd. Gods, by what meanes they could: And the most, though and perfect of their limbes; and all the rest, absolute meanest, of things are made more precious, when they in their numbers, as he conceiued thē: Who, as he was are dedicated to Temples. In that name therefore, we a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser inost humbly consecrate to your H. H. these remaines of it. His mind and hand went together: And what of your seruant SHAKESPEARE ; that what delight is in he thought, he vttered with that easinesse, that wee them, may be euer your L. L. the reputation his, & the haue scarse receiued from him a blot in his papers. faults ours, if any be committed, by a payre so carefull But it is not our prouince, who onely gather his works, to shew their gratitude both to the liuing, and the dead, || and give them you, to praise him. It is yours that as is

reade him. And there we hope, to your diuers capaciYour Lordshippes most bounden,

you will finde enough, both to draw, and hold you : Iohn HEMINGE. for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could be lost. HENRY CONDELL. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe: And if

then you doe not like him, surely you are in soine

manifest danger, not to vnderstand him. And so we TO THE GREAT VARIETY OF READERS,'

leaue you to other of his Friends, whom if you need, From the most able, to him that can but spell: There can bee your guides: if you neede them not, you can you are number'd. We had rather you were weighd.

leade your selues, and others. And such Readers we Especially, when the fate of all Bookes depends vpon

wish him.

Iohn HEMINGE. your capacities: and not of your heads alone, but of

HENRIE CONDELL. your purses. Well! It is now publique, and you wil stand for your priviledges wee know: to read, and Do so, but buy it first. That doth best

THE WORKES OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. commend a Booke, the Stationer saies. Then, how odde soeuer your braines be, or your wisedomes, make Containing all his Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies: your licence the

same, and spare not. Iudge your sixe Truely set forth, according to their first Originall.1 pen'orth, your shillings worth, your fiue shillings worth at a time, or higher, so as you rise to the iust rates, and welcome. But, whatever you do, Buy. Censure will

William Shakespeare. Samuel Gilburne. not driue a Trade, or make the lacke go. And though

Richard Burbadge.

Robert Armyn. you be a Magistrate of wit, and sit on the Stage at

John Hemmings.

William Ostler. Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne Playes dailie,

Augustine Phillips. Nathan Field. know, these Playes haue had their triall alreadie, and

William Kempt.

John Vnderwood. stood out all Appeales; and do now come forth quitted

Thomas Poope.

Nicholas Tooley. rather by a Decree of Court, then any purchas'd Letters

George Bryan.

William Ecclestone. of commendation.

Henry Condell.

Joseph Taylor. It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to haue

William Slye.

Robert Benfield. bene wished, that the Author himselfe had liu'd to haue

Richard Cowly.

Robert Goughe. 1 We give the Address to the "variety of Readers," and the

John Lowine.

Richard Robinson Dedication, which follows it, precisely as they stand in the origi Samuell Crosse.

Iohn Shancke. nal, to the observation of the most minute point. The Dedication Alexander Cooke.

John Rice. was omitted in the folio of 1664, but inserted again in the folio of 1685. This address also precedes the folio of 1623. Malone and 1 This heading precedes the list of the Actors in the folio of others have conjectured that it was written by Ben Jonson, and it 1623, and in the three subsequent editions in the same form. is certainly much in his style.

We spell the names precisely as they stand in the first folio. 92






To the Memory of M. W. Shake-speare. We wonder'd, Shake-speare, that thou went'st so soon From the world's to the grave's tiring-room: We thought thee dead; but this thy printed worth Tells thy spectators, that thou went'st but forth To enter with applause. An actor's art Can die, and live to act a second part: That's but an exit of mortality, This a re-entrance to a plaudite.

I. M.'

To the Memory of the deceased Author, Master William

Shakespeare. Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellows give The world thy works; thy works, by which outlive Thy tomb thy name must: when that stone is rent, And time dissolves thy Stratford monument, Here we alive shall view thee still: this book, When brass and marble fade, shall make thee look Fresh to all ages; when posterity Shall loath what's new, think all is prodigy That is not Shake-speare's, every line, each verse, Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy herse. Vor fire, nor cankering age, as Naso said Of his, thy wil-fraught book shall once invade: Nor shall I e'er believe or think thee dead, (Though miss'd) until our bankrout stage be sped (Impossible) with some new strain t' out-do Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo; Or till I hear a scene more nobly take, Than when thy half-sword parleying Romans spake:' Till these, till any of thy volume's rest, Shall with more fire, more feeling, be express'd, Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst never die, But, crown'd with laurel, live eternally.

L. Digges.

1 Leonard Digges prefixed a long copy of verses to the edition of Shakespeare's Poems in 1640, octavo, in which he makes this passage, referring to Julius Cæsar, more distinct; be also there speaks of the audiences Shakespeare's plays at that time drew, in comparison with Ben Jonson's. This is the only part of his production worth adding in a note. “ So have I been, when Cæsar would appear, And on the stage at half-sword parley were Brutus and Cassius, O, how the audience Were ravish'd! with what wonder they went thence! When, some new day, they would not brook a line Oi tedious, though well-labour'd Catiline ; Sejanus too, was irksome: they priz'd more • Honest' Iago, or the jealous Moor. And though the Fox and subtil Alchymist, Long intermitted, could not quite be mist, Though these have sham'd all th' ancients, and might raise Their author's merit with a crown of bays, Yet these sometimes, even at a friend's desire, Acted, have scarce defray'd the sea-coal fire, And door-kerpers: when, let but Falstaff come, Hal, Poins, the rest,-you scarce shall have a room, All is so pester'd: let but Beatrice And Benedick be seen, lo! in a trice The cock-pit, galleries, boxes, all are fun, To bear Malvolio, that cross-garter'd gull. Brief, there is nothing in his wit-fraught book, Whose sound we would not hear, on whose worth look." etc.

To the Memory of my beloved, the Author, Mr. Iilliam

Shakespeare, and what he hath lejl us. To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name. Am I thus ample to thy book, and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such, As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much; "Tis true, and all men's suffrage; but these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise : For seeliest ignorance on these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right; Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance ; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise, And think to ruin, where it seem'd to raise : These are, as some infamous bawd, or whore, Should praise a matron; what could hurt her inore ! But thou art proof against them; and, indeed, Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need. I, therefore, will begin:-Soul of the age, The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage, My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser; or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room :: Thou art a monument without a tomb; And art alive still, while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read, and praise to give That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses; I mean, with great but disproportion'd muses: For, if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee surely with thy peers ; And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine, Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line:

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1 Perhaps the initials of John Marston.

? Referring to lines by William Basse, then circulating in MS., and not printed (Ag far as is now known) until 1633, when they were falsely imputed to Dr. Donne in the edition of his poems in that year. All the MSS. of the lines, now extant, differ in minutra particulars.

Of Shakespeare's mind, and manners, brightly shines
In his well-torned and true-filed lines;
In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
As brandish'd at the eyes of ignorance.
Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were,
To see thee in our waters yet appear;
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
That so did take Eliza, and our James!
But stay; I see thee in the hemisphere
Advanc'd, and made a constellation there:
Shine forth, thou star of poets; and with rage,
Or influence, chide, or cheer, the drooping stage:
Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like

And despair's day, but for thy volume's light!

Ben Ioxson.

And though thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek,
From thence to honour thee, I would not seek
For names; but call forth thundering Æschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles, to us,
Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,
To life again, to hear thy buskin tread
And shake a stage: or, when thy socks were on,
Leave thee alone, for the comparison
Of all that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome,
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Triumph, my Britain! thou hast one to show,
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
lle was not of an age, but for all time;
And all the muses still were in their prime,
When like Apollo he came forth to warm
Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm.
Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines;
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As since she will vouclisafe no other wit.
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please ;
But antiquated and deserted lie,
As they were not of Nature's family.
Yet must I not give Nature all; thy art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part:
For though the poet's matter nature be,
His art doth give the fashion; and that he,
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
(Such as thine are,) and strike the second heat
Upon the muses' anvil; turn the same,
(And himself with it,) that he thinks to frame;
Or for the laurel he may gain a scorn,
For a good poet's made, as well as born:
And such wert thou. Look, how the father's face
Lives in his issue; even so the race

l'pon the Lines, and Life, of the famous Scenic Poet.

Master William Shakespeare. Those hands which you so clapp'd, go now and

wring, You Britons brave; for done are Shakespeare's days : His days are done that made the dainty plays,

Which made the Globe of heaven and earth to ring.

Dried is that vein, dried' is the Thespian spring, Turn'd all to tears, and Phæbus clouds his rays; That corpse, that coffin, now bestick those bays,

Which crown'd him poet first, then poet's king. If tragedies might any prologue have,

All those he made would scarce make one to this ; Where fame, now that he gone is to the grave,

(Death's public tiring-house,) the Nuntius is : For, though his line of life went soon about, The life yet of his lines shall never out.


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l'pon the Effigies of my worthy Friend, the Author,

Master William Shakespeare, and his Works.
Spectator, this life's shadow is :- to see
This truer image, and a livelier he,
Turn reader. But observe his comick vein,
Laugh; and proceed next to a tragick strain,
Then weep: so,—when thou find'st two contraries,
Two different passions from thy rapt soul rise, -
Say, (who alone effect such wonders could,)
Rare Shake-speare to the life thou dost behold.

Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of faine, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, Hast built thyself a live-long monument: For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easy numbers flow; and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ; Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Doth make us marble with too much conceiving ; And, so sepulcher'd, in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. they were then printed from a copy corrected by the author : the variations are interesting. and Malone pointed out only one, and that certainly the least important. Instead of “weak witness" in line 6, the folio, 1632 has dull witness :" instead of “live-long monument," in line 8, the folio has " lasting monument:" instead of “ heart," in line 10, the folio has “part," an evident misprint: and instead of “itself bereaving,” in line 13, the folio has herself bereaving."

An Epitaph on the admirable Dramatic Poct, W.

Shakespeare.? What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones, The labour of an age in piled stones;

i In addition to those in the folio of 1623, also reprinted in 1632. The folios of 1664 and 1685 contain no others.

2 These lines, like the preceding, have no name appended to them in the folio, 1632, but the authorship is ascertained by the publication of them as Milton's, in the edition of his Poems in 1645, octavo. We give them as they stand there, because it is evident that

Fresh green,

On worthy Master Shakespeare, and his Poems." To strike up and stroke down, both joy and ire; A mind reflecting ages past, whose clear

To steer th' affections; and by heavenly fire And equal surface can make things appear,

Mold us anew, stoln from ourselves :Distant a thousand years, and represent

This, and much more, which cannot be express'd Them in their lively colours, just extent:

Bat by himself, his tongue, and his own breast, To outrun hasty time, retrieve the fates,

Was Shakespeare's freehold; which his cunning brain Roll back the heavens, blow ope the iron gates

Improv'd by favour of the nine-fold train ; Of death and Lethe, where confused lie

The buskin'd muse, the comick queen, the grand Great heaps of ruinous mortality:

And louder tone of Clio, nimble hand In that deep dusky dungeon to discern

And nimbler foot of the melodious pair, A royal ghost from churls; by art to learn

The silver-voiced lady, the most fair The physiognomy of shades, and give

Calliope, whose speaking silence daunts, Them sudden birth, wondering how oft they live;

And she whose praise the heavenly body chants; What story coldly tells, what poets feign

These jointly woo'd him, envying one another, At second hand, and picture without brain,

(Obey'd by all as spouse, but lov'd as brother) Senseless and soul-less shows: to give a stage

And wrought a curious robe, of sable grave, (Ample, and true with life) voice, action, age,

and pleasant yellow, red most brave, As Plato's year, and new scene of the world,

And constant blue, rich purple, guiltless white, Them unto us, or us to them had hurld:

The lowly russet, and the scarlet bright:

Branch'd and embroider'd like the painted spring; To raise our ancient sovereigns from their herse, Make kings his subjects; by exchanging verse

Each leaf match'd with a flower, and each string Enlive their pale trunks, that the present age

Of golden wire, each line of silk : there run Joys in their joy, and trembles at their rage:

Italian works, whose thread the sisters spun; Yet so to temper passion, that our ears

And there did sing, or seem to sing, the choice Take pleasure in their pain, and eyes in tears

Birds of a foreign note and various voice : Both weep and smile ; fearful at plots so sad,

Here hangs a mossy rock; there plays a fair Then laughing at our fear; abns'd, and glad

But chiding fountain, purled : not the air, To be abusid ; affected with that truth

Nor clouds, nor thunder, but were living drawn; Which we perceive is false, pleas'd in that ruth

Not out of common tiffany or lawn, At which we start, and, by elaborate play,

But fine materials, which the muses know, Tortur'd and tickl’d; by a crab-like way

And only know the countries where they grow. Time past made pastime, and in ugly sort

Now, when they could no longer him enjoy, Disgorging up his ravin for our sport:

In mortal garments pent,—death may destroy, -While the plebeian imp, from lofty throne,

They say his body; but his verse shall live, Creates and rules a world, and works upon

And more than nature takes our hands shall give: Mankind by secret engines : now to move

In a less volume, but more strongly bound, A chilling pity, then a rigorous love;

Shakespeare shall breathe and speak; with laurel

crown'd, 1 These lines are subscribed I. M. S. in the folio 1632, “probably Which never fades; fed with ambrosian meat, Jasper Mayne,” says Malone. Most probably not, because Mayne

In a well-lin'd vesture, rich, and neat. bas left nothing behind him to lead us to suppose that he could have produced this surpassing tribute. 1. M. S. may possibly be for time shall never stain, nor envy tear it.

So with this robe they clothe him, bid him wear it; lohn Milton, Student, and do name may have been appended to the other copy of verses by him prefixed to the folio of 1632, in order that his initials should stand at the end of the present. We

The friendly admirer of his endowments, know of no other poet of the time capable of writing the ensuing lines. We feel morally certain that they are by Milton.

I. M. S. 95

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The right orthography of the great Poet's name has author's life, retain the same orthography. Again, in been, for the last sixty years, as disputed and doubtful his Sonnets, first printed in 1609, we have nearly the a question as any other of the many points which same orthography, it differing only in printing the name have perplexed and divided his editors and critics. Shake-spcare. Shake-speare, Shakespeare, Shakspeare, Schackspeere, All the editions of Shakespeare's several poems differ Sha.x speare, Shak spear, Shakespear, Shakspere, Shax from those of his plays published during his life in that pere, are among the variations, of more or less authority ; typographical accuracy which denotes an author's own besides one or two others, like Shaxbred, which are evi care, while the contemporary old quarto editions of his dently blunders of a careless or ignorant scribe. More plays, published separately, commonly swarm with recent and minutely accurate researches seem to me to gross errors either of the printer or the copyist. Again, have proved, from the evidence of deeds, parish-registers, all those editions of his genuine plays, thus published town-records, etc., (see the various extracts in Collier's during his life, as well as others falsely ascribed to him, · Life,") that the family name was Shakspere, with concur in the same mode of spelling the name—it being some varieties of spelling, such as might occur among given invariably either Shake-speare, or Shakespeare. illiterate persons in an uneducated age. The evidence His name appears thus in at least sixty title-pages, of that the Poet himself considered this as his family name, single plays, published by different printers, during his (which before seemed most probable,) has been, within own life. Finally, in the folio collection of 1623, made a few years, confirmed by the discovery of his undoubted by his friends Heminge and Condell, we find the same autograph, in a copy of the first edition of Florio’s trans- orthography, not only in the title and dedication, and lation of Montaigne, in folio—a book, of his familiarity list of performers, but in the verses prefixed by the with which there are many traces in his later works, Poet's personal friends, Ben Jonson, Holland, Diggesand which he has used in the way of direct imitation, the only variance being that the editors and Ben Jonand almost of transcription, in the TEMPEST-act i. son write “Shakespeare," and Digges has the name scene 1. (See the notes in this edition.) I, therefore, “Shake-speare." All the succeeding folios retain the fully agree with Sir Frederick Madden, in his tract on same mode, and two at least of those were published this point, and with Mr. Knight, in his Biography and while many of the Poet's contemporaries still lived. Pictorial edition of Shakespeare, that the Poet's legal Moreover, all the Poet's literary contemporaries, who and habitual signature was William Shaks pere. Yet have left his name in print, give it in the saine I, nevertheless, concur with Dr. Nares, (Glossary,) way,

,-as Ben Jonson, several times; Drayton, Meares, Mr. Collier, Mr. Dyce, and others, in retaining the old (in his often quoted list of Shakespeare's works writorthography of “SHAKESPEARE,” by which the Poet ten before 1598;) Allot, (in his collection cailed the was alone known as an author, in his own day and long · English Parnassus ;")—with several others. after. The following reasons seem to me conclusive : So again, in the next generation, we find the same Whether from the inconvenience of the Stratford mode mode universally retained, -as, for example, by Milton, of spelling the name not corresponding, in London, with by Davenant, who was certainly the Poet's godson, its fixed pronunciation, or for some other reason, the and who seems to have been willing to pass for his Poet, at an early period of his literary and dramatic illegitimate son; and by the pains-taking Fuller. The career, adopted, for all public purposes, the orthography | last writer, in his notice of Shakespeare, in his “Worof Shakespeare. His name appears thus spelled in the thies of England,” refers to “ the warlike sound of his first edition of his Vesus And AvoNIS, (1593,) where surname, (whence some may conjecture him of a mili: the dedication of the “first heir of his invention" to tary extraction,) Hasti-vibrans, or Shake-speare." the Earl of Southampton, is subscribed at full length, The heraldic grant of armorial bearing confirmed to · William Shakespeare." This very popular poem the Poet, in his ancestors' right, bearing the crest of a passed through at least six editions, during the author's Falcon, supporting (or brandishing) a spear, etc., seems lifetime, between 1593 and 1606, and several more to be founded on the very same signification and prowithin a few years after his death, in all of which the nunciation of the name. Thus Shakespeare remained same spelling is preserved. This was followed, in 1594, the only name of their great dramatist known to the by his poem of LUCRECE, where the same orthography English public, from 1593, for almost two centuries is preserved, in the signature to the dedication to the after, until, in the last half of the last century, the same noble friend and patron. All the preceding edi authority of Malone and his fellow-commentators subtious, of which there were at least four during the stituted, in popular use, Shakspeare-a version of the


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