PREFACE.

The Tragedy of Cymbeline is, in the whole oeconomy of it, one of the most irregular productions of Shakespeare. Its defects however, or rather its superfluities, are more than equalled by beauties, and excellencies of various kinds. There is at the same time something so pleasingly romantic, and likewise truly British in the subject of it, that, I flatter myself, and attempt to reduce it, as near as possible, to the regular standard of the drama, will be favourably received by all, who are admirers of novelty, when propriety is its foundation. I have accordingly endeavoured to new-construct this Tragedy, almost upon the plan of Aristotle himself, in respect of the unity of Time; with so thorough a veneration however for the great Father of the English stage, that, even while I have presumed to regulate and modernize his design, I have thought it an honour to tread in his steps, and to imitate his Stile, with the humility and reverence of a Son. With this view, I have retained in many places the very language of the original author, and in

all others endeavoured to supply it with a diction similar thereunto; so that, as an unknown friend of mine has observed, the present attempt is intirely new, whether it be considered as an alteration from, or an imitation of Shakespeare.

—The difficulty of such an attempt, as rational as it may be, has a kind of claim, I presume, to the indulgence of the public; especially as it has been attended likewise with disadvantages. —For I found myself necessitated by my plan to drop some characters, to contract others, and to omit some scenes and incidents of an interesting nature;—or rather to bring the substance and purport of them within the compass of a few short narrations.—A loss irreparable this, but that conveniencies are likewise to be thrown into the opposite scale; for as, I hope, I have not injured any characters by contracting them, but have left them to all intents, and in point of importance the same; so I have had an opportunity of enlarging and improving some of the original parts, (those particularly of Palador, and Philario, the Pisanio of Shakespeare) and, by varying certain incidents and circumstances, of giving a new cast to the whole drama.—After all, I am very far from meaning to detract from the merit of Shakespeare; or from insinuating that the plays of so exalted a genius require such

new-modelling as the present, in order to the rendering them useful or entertaining.—I have ventured publicly to defend this great dramatic Poet in the liberties he has taken; but still Shakespeare himself needs not be ashamed to wear a modern dress, provided it can be made tolerably to fit him.

The only question then will be, whether the present alteration be a judicious one?—And this with all due deference is left to the candour and justice of the public.

It will be proper to acquaint the reader, that, this play, was recommended some time since by a person of the first distinction, to the manager of the other theatre; who declared, that he had the very same altered play in his possession, and that it was designed for representation on his stage. Our Cymbeline therefore was obliged to take up his head quarters at Covent-Garden; where he has contended not only with the usual difficulties, but also with others of an extraordinary nature—Mrs. Bellamy's declining the part of Imogen has done the play incredible prejudice; and convinces me of the vanity of striving against the stream of popularity in general, or the weight of particular disadvantages. —However, I am under obligations to many

of the performers, for their best endeavours to do justice to my piece, and for their zeal for its success. To some I am indebted for real service, whose names, as comparisons are invidious, I leave it to the judgment of the reader to supply.

Upon the whole, I am at a loss to ballance the account between myself and my fortune, in this whimsical situation. The kind assistance, and, I hope, not extremely partial approbation of some, adds as much to my credit and satisfaction, as the delicacy, or ill-nature, &c. of others, has deducted from my advantages.—To my friends, I return my sincere acknowledgments, and best wishes; to my enemies, I shall say nothing, 'till they are candid, and sagacious enough to speak more plainly than they have hitherto done,—and more to the purpose.

PROLOGUE.