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Edmond Malone [1780], Supplement to the edition of Shakspeare's plays published in 1778 By Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. In two volumes. Containing additional observations by several of the former commentators: to which are subjoined the genuine poems of the same author, and seven plays that have been ascribed to him; with notes By the editor and others (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10911].
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SCENE III. The Temple of Diana at Ephesus; Thaisa standing near the altar, as high priestess; a number of virgins on each side; Cerimon and other inhabitants of Ephesus attending. Enter Pericles with his train; Lysimachus, Helicanus, Marina, and a Lady.

Per.
Hail Dian! to perform thy just command,
I here confess myself the king of Tyre;
Who, frighted from my country, did wed8 note
The fair Thaisa, at Pentapolis.
At sea in child-bed died she, but brought forth
A maid-child called Marina; who, O goddess,
Wears yet thy silver livery.9Q1339 She, at Tharsus
Was nurs'd with Cleon; whom at fourteen years
He sought to murder: but her better stars
Brought her to Mitylene; against whose shore
Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us,
Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she
Made known herself my daughter.

Thai.
Voice and favour!—
You are, you are—O royal Pericles9 note!—
[She faints.

Per.

What means the woman? she dies! help, gentlemen!

Cer.
Noble sir,
If you have told Diana's altar true,
This is your wife.

Per.
Reverend appearer, no;
I threw her o'er-board with these very arms.

Cer.
Upon this coast, I warrant you.

Per.
'Tis most certain.

-- 154 --

Cer.
Look to the lady1 note;—O, she's but o'erjoy'd.
Early in blust'ring morn2 note
this lady was
Thrown on this shore. I op'd the coffin, and
Found there rich jewels3 note; recover'd her, and plac'd her
Here in Diana's temple4 note.

Per.
May we see them?

Cer.
Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house,
Whither I invite you5 note
. Look, Thaisa is
Recovered.

Thai.
O, let me look upon him!
If he be none of mine, my sanctity
Will to my sense bend no licentious ear,
But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord,
Are you not Pericles? Like him you speak,
Like him you are: Did you not name a tempest,
A birth, and death?

Per.
The voice of dead Thaisa!

Thai.
That Thaisa am I, supposed drown'd
And dead.

-- 155 --

Per.
Immortal Dian!

Thai.
Now I know you better.—
When we with tears parted Pentapolis,
The king, my father, gave you such a ring.
[Shews a ring.

Per.
This, this; no more you gods! your present kindness
Makes my past miseries sport6 note


: You shall do well,
That on the touching of her lips I may
Melt, and no more be seen7 note





. O come, be buried
A second time within these arms8 note


.

Mar.
My heart
Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom.
[Kneels to Thaisa.

Per.
Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa;
Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina,
For she was yielded there.

Thai.
Blest, and mine own9 note


!

-- 156 --

Hel.
Hail, madam, and my queen!

Thai.
I know you not.

Per.
You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre,
I left behind an ancient substitute.
Can you remember what I call'd the man?
I have nam'd him oft.

Thai.
'Twas Helicanus then.

Per.
Still confirmation:
Embrace him dear Thaisa; this is he.
Now do I long to hear how you were found;
How possibly preserv'd; and whom to thank,
Besides the gods, for this great miracle.

Thai.
Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, through whom
The gods have shewn their power; that can from first
To last resolve you.

Per.
Reverend sir, the gods
Can have no mortal officer more like
A god than you. Will you deliver how
This dead queen re-lives?

Cer.
I will, my lord.
Beseech you, first go with me to my house,
Where shall be shewn you all was found with her;
How she came placed here within the temple;
No needful thing omitted.

Per.
Pure Diana!
I bless thee for thy vision, and will offer
Night-oblations to thee. Thaisa, this prince,
The fair-betrothed of your daughter1 note, shall
Marry her at Pentapolis. And now,
This ornament that makes me look so dismal,
Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form;
And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd,
To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify.9Q1340

-- 157 --

Thai.
Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit,
Sir, that my father's dead.

Per.
Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen,
We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves
Will in that kingdom spend our following days;
Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign.
Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay,
To hear the rest untold.—Sir, lead the way.
[Exeunt omnes. Enter Gower.

Gow.
In Antioch and his daughter2 note, you have heard
Of monstrous lust the due and just reward:
In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen
(Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen,)
Virtue preserv'd from fell Destruction's blast,
Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last3 note


.
In Helicanus may you well descry
A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty:
In reverend Cerimon there well appears,
The worth that learned charity aye wears.
For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame
Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name4 note

-- 158 --


Of Pericles, to rage the city turn;
That him and his they in his palace burn.
The gods for murder seemed so content
To punish them; although not done, but meant5 note.
So, on your patience ever more attending,
New joy wait on you! Here our play hath ending. [Exit Gower.

The fragment of the Ms. Poem, mentioned in the preliminary observations, has suffered so much by time, as to be scarcely legible. The parchment on which it is written having been converted into the cover of a book, for which purpose its edges were cut off, some words are entirely lost. However from the following concluding lines the reader may be enabled to form a judgment with respect to the age of this piece:


......thys was translatyd almost at englondes ende
......to the makers stat tak sich a mynde
....have y take hys bedys on hond and sayd hys patr. nostr. and crede
Thomas* note vicary y understonde at wymborne mynstre in that stede
.....y thouzte zou have wryte hit is nouzt worth to be knowe
..that wole the sothe ywyte go thider and me wol the schewe.

In a former disquisition concerning this play, I mentioned, that the dumb shows, which are found in it, induced me to doubt whether it came from the pen of Shakspeare. The sentiments that I then expressed, were suggested by a very hasty and transient survey of the piece. I am still, however, of opinion, that this consideration (our author having expressly ridiculed such exhibitions) might in a very doubtful question have some weight. But weaker proofs must yield to stronger. It is idle to lay any great stress upon such a slight circumstance, when the piece itself furnishes internal and irresistible evidence of its authenticity. The congenial sentiments, the numerous expressions bearing a striking similitude to passages in his undisputed plays, the incidents, the

-- 159 --

situations of the persons, the colour of the style, at least through the greater part of the play, all, in my apprehension, conspire to set the seal of Shakspeare on this performance. What then shall we say to these dumb shows? Either, that the poet's practice was not always conformable to his opinions, (of which there are abundant proofs) or, (what I rather believe to be the case) that this was one of his earliest dramas, written at a time when these exhibitions were much admired, and before he had seen the absurdity of such ridiculous pageants: probably, in the year 1590, or 1591.

Mr. Rowe in his first edition of Shakspeare says “it is owned that some part of Pericles certainly was written by him, particularly the last act.” Dr. Farmer, whose opinion in every thing that relates to our author has deservedly the greatest weight, thinks the hand of Shakspeare may be sometimes seen in the latter part of the play, and there only. The scene, in the last act, in which Pericles discovers his daughter, is indeed eminently beautiful; but the whole piece appears to me to furnish abundant proofs of the hand of Shakspeare. The inequalities in different parts of it are not greater than may be found in some of his other dramas. It should be remembered also, that Dryden, who lived near enough the time to be well informed, has pronounced this play to be our author's first performance:


“Shakspeare's own Muse his Pericles first bore;
The Prince of Tyre was elder than the Moor.”

Let me add, that the contemptuous manner in which Ben Jonson has mentioned it, is, in my apprehension, another proof of its authenticity. In his memorable Ode, written soon after his New Inn had been damned, when he was comparing his own unsuccessful pieces with the applauded dramas of his contemporaries, he naturally chose to point at what he esteemed a weak performance of a rival, whom he appears to have envied and hated merely because the splendor of his genius had eclipsed his own, and had rendered the reception of those tame and disgusting imitations of antiquity, which he boastingly called the only legitimate English dramas, as cold as the performances themselves.

On this play Lillo formed a tragedy of three acts, entitled Marina; which was first represented in the year 1738.

As the subject is of some curiosity, I shall make no apology for laying before the reader a more minute investigation of it. It is proper, however, to inform him, that one of the following dissertations on the genuineness of this play precedes the other only for a reason assigned by Dogberry, that where two men ride on a horse, one must ride behind. That we might catch hints from the strictures of each other, and collect what we could mutually advance into a point, Mr. Steevens and I set forward with an

-- 160 --

agreement to maintain the propriety of our respective suppositions relative to this piece, as far as we were able; to submit our remarks, as they gradually increased, alternately to each other, and to dispute the opposite hypothesis, till one of us should acquiesce in the opinion of his opponent, or each remain confirmed in his own. The reader is therefore requested to bear in mind, that if the last series of arguments be considered as an answer to the first, the first was equally written in reply to the last:


&lblank; unus sese armat utroque,
Unaque mens animat non dissociabilis ambos. Malone.

That this tragedy has some merit, it were vain to deny; but that it is the entire composition of Shakspeare, is more than can be hastily granted. I shall not venture, with Dr. Farmer, to determine that the hand of our great poet is only visible in the last act, for I think it appears in several passages dispersed over each of these divisions. I find it difficult however to persuade myself that he was the original fabricator of the plot, or the author of every dialogue, chorus, &c. and this opinion is founded on a concurrence of circumstances which I shall attempt to enumerate, that the reader may have the benefit of all the lights I am able to throw on so obscure a subject.

Be it first observed, that most of the choruses in Pericles are written in a measure which Shakspeare has not employed on the same occasion, either in the Winter's Tale, Romeo and Juliet, or King Henry the Fifth. If it be urged, that throughout these recitations Gower was his model, I can safely affirm that their language, and sometimes their versification, by no means resembles that of Chaucer's contemporary. One of these monologues is composed in hexameters, and another in alternate rhimes; neither of which are ever found in his printed works, or those which yet remain in manuscript; nor does he, like the author of Pericles, introduce four and five feet metre note in the same series of lines. If Shakspeare therefore be allowed to have copied not only the general outline, but even the peculiarities of nature with ease and accuracy, we may surely suppose that, at the expence of some unprofitable labour, he would not have failed so egregiously in his imitation of antiquated style or numbers.—That he could assume with nicety the terms of affectation and pedantry, he has shewn in the characters of Osrick and Armado, Holofernes and Nathaniel. That he could successfully counterfeit provincial dialects, we may learn from Edgar and Sir Hugh Evans; and that he was no stranger to the peculiarities of foreign pronunciation, is likewise evident from several scenes of English tinctured with French, in the Merry Wives and King Henry the Fifth* note.

-- 161 --

But it is here urged by Mr. Malone, that an exact imitation of Gower would have proved unintelligible to any audience during the reign of Elizabeth. If it were, (which I am slow to admit) our author's judgment would scarce have permitted him to choose an agent so inadequate to the purpose of an interpreter; one whose years and phraseology must be set at variance before he could be understood; one who was to assume the form, office, and habit of an ancient, and was yet to speak the language of a modern.

I am ready to allow my opponent that the authors who introduced Machiavel, Guicciardine, and the Monk of Chester, on the stage, have never yet been blamed because they avoided to make the two former speak in their native tongue, and the latter in the English dialect of his age The proper language of the Italian statesman and historian, could not have been understood by our common audiences; and as to Rainulph, he is known to have composed his chronicle in Latin. Besides, these three personages were writers in prose. They are alike called up to superintend the relations which were originally found in their respective books; and the magick that converted them into poets, might claim an equal power over their modes of declamation. The case is otherwise, when ancient bards, whose compositions were in English, are summoned from the grave to instruct their countrymen; for these apparitions may be expected to speak in the style and language that distinguishes their real age, and their known productions, when there is no sufficient reason why they should depart from them

If the inequalities of measure which I have pointed out, be also visible in the lyrick parts of Macbeth, &c. I must observe that throughout these plays our author has not professed to imitate the

-- 162 --

style or manner of any acknowledged character or age; and therefore was tied down to the observation of no particular rules. Most of the irregular lines, however, in the Midsummer Night's Dream, &c. I suspect of having been prolonged by casual monosyllables, which stole into them through the inattention of the copyist, or the impertinence of the speaker.—If indeed the choruses in Pericles contain many such marked expressions as are discoverable in Shakspeare's other dramas, I must confess that they have hitherto escaped my notice; unless they may be said to occur in particulars which of necessity must be common to all soliloquies of a similar kind. Such interlocutions cannot fail occasionally to contain the same modes of address, and the same persuasive arguments to solicit indulgence and secure applause.

To these observations I may add, that though Shakspeare seems to have been well versed in the writings of Chaucer, his plays contain no marks of his acquaintance with the works of Gower, from whose fund of stories not one of his plots is adopted. When I quoted the Confessio Amantis to illustrate “Florentius' love” in the Taming of a Shrew, it was only because I had then met with no other book in which that tale was related.—I ought not to quit the subject of these choruses without remarking that Gower interposes no less than six times in the course of our play, exclusive of his introduction and peroration. Indeed he enters as often as any chasm in the story requires to be supplied. I do not recollect the same practice in other tragedies, to which the chorus usually serves as a prologue, and then appears only between the acts. Shakspeare's legitimate pieces in which these mediators are found, might still be represented without their aid; but the omission of Gower in Pericles would render it so perfectly confused, that the audience might justly exclaim with OthelloChaos is come again.

Very little that can tend with certainty to establish or oppose our author's exclusive right in this dramatick performance, is to be collected from the dumb shows; for he has no such in his other plays as will serve to direct our judgment. These in Pericles are not introduced (in compliance with two ancient customs) at stated periods, or for the sake of adventitious splendor. They do not appear before every act, like those in Ferrex and Porrex; they are not, like those in Jocasta, merely ostentatious. Such deviations from common practice incline me to believe that originally there were no mute exhibitions at all throughout the piece; but that when Shakspeare undertook to reform it, finding some parts peculiarly long or uninteresting, he now and then struck out the dialogue, and only left the action in its room; advising the author to add a few lines to his choruses, as auxiliaries on the occasion. Those whose fate it is to be engaged in the repairs of an old mansion house, must submit to many aukward expedients which they would have escaped in a fabrick constructed on their

-- 163 --

own plan: or it might be observed, that though Shakspeare has expressed his contempt of such dumb shows as were inexplicable, there is no reason to believe he would have pointed the same ridicule at others which were more easily understood. I do not readily perceive that the aid of a dumb show is much more reprehensible than that of a chorus:


Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus.

If it be observed that the latter will admit of sentiment and poetical imagery, it may be also urged that the former will serve to furnish out such spectacles of magnificence as should by no means appear despicable in a kingdom which has ever encouraged the pomp of lord mayors' feasts, installments, and coronations.—I should extend these remarks to an unwarrantable length, or might be tempted to prove that many of Shakspeare's plays exhibit traces of these solemn pantomimes* note; though they are too adroitly managed by him to have need of verbal interpretation.

Next it may be remarked, that the valuable parts of Pericles are more distinguished by their poetical turn, than by variety of character, or command over the passions. Partial graces are indeed almost the only improvements that the mender of a play already written can easily introduce; for an error in the first concoction can be redeemed by no future process of chemistry. A few flowery lines may here and there be strewn on the surface of a dramatick piece; but these have little power to impregnate its general mass. Character, on the contrary, must be designed at the author's outset, and proceed with gradual congeniality through the whole. In genuine Shakspeare, it insinuates itself every where, with an address like that of Virgil's snake—


&lblank; fit tortile collo
Aurum ingens coluber; fit longæ tænia vittæ,
Innectitque comas, et membris lubricus errat.

But the drama before us contains no discrimination of manners† note (except in the comick dialogues), very few traces of original

-- 164 --

thought, and is evidently destitute of that intelligence and useful knowledge that pervade even the meanest of Shakspeare's undisputed performances. To speak more plainly, it is neither enriched by the gems that sparkle through the rubbish of Love's Labour's Lost, nor the good sense which so often fertilizes the barren fable of the Two Gentlemen of Verona.—Pericles, in short, is little more than a string of adventures so numerous, so inartificially crowded together, and so far removed from probability, that in my private judgment, I must acquit even the irregular and lawless Shakspeare of having constructed the fabrick of the drama, though he has certainly bestowed some decoration on its parts. Yet even this decoration, like embroidery on a blanket, only serves by contrast to expose the meanness of the original materials. That the plays of Shakspeare have their inequalities likewise, is sufficiently understood; but they are still the inequalities of Shakspeare. He may occasionally be absurd, but is seldom foolish; he may be censured, but can rarely be despised.

I do not recollect a single plot of Shakspeare's formation (or even adoption from preceding plays or novels), in which the majority of the characters are not so well connected, and so necessary in respect of each other, that they proceed in combination to the end of the story; unless that story (as in the cases of Antigonus and Mercutio) requires the interposition of death. In Pericles this continuity is wanting;


&lblank; disjectas moles, avulsaque saxis
Saxa vides; &lblank;

and even with the aid of Gower the scenes are rather loosely tacked together, than closely interwoven. We see no more of Antiochus after his first appearance. His anonymous daughter utters but one unintelligible couplet, and then vanishes. Simonides likewise is lost as soon as the marriage of Thaisa is over; and the punishment of Cleon and his wife, which poetick justice demanded, makes no part of the action, but is related in a kind of epilogue by Gower. This is at least a practice which in no instance has received the sanction of Shakspeare. From such deficiency of mutual interest, and liaison among the personages of the drama, I am farther strengthened in my belief that our great poet had no share in constructing it* note

. Dr. Johnson long ago observed that

-- 165 --

his real power is not seen in the splendor of particular passages, but in the progress of his fable, and the tenour of his dialogue:

-- 166 --

and when it becomes necessary for me to quote a decision founded on comprehensive views, I can appeal to none in which I should more implicitly confide.—Gower relates the story of Pericles in a manner not quite so desultory; and yet such a tale as that of Prince Appolyn, in its most perfect state, would hardly have attracted the notice of any playwright, except one who was quite a novice in the rules of his art. Mr. Malone indeed observes that our author has pursued the legend exactly as he found it in the Confessio Amantis, or elsewhere. I can only add, that this is by no means his practice in any other dramas, except such as are merely historical, or founded on facts from which he could not venture to deviate, because they were universally believed. Shakspeare has deserted his originals in As You Like It, Hamlet, King Lear, &c. The curious reader may easily convince himself of the truth of these assertions.

That Shakspeare has repeated in his later plays any material circumstances which he had adopted in his more early ones, I am by no means ready to allow. Some smaller coincidences with himself may perhaps be discovered. Though it be not usual for one architect to build two fabricks exactly alike, he may yet be found to have distributed many ornaments in common over both, and to have fitted up more than one apartment with the same cornice and mouldings. If Pericles should be supposed to bear any general and striking resemblance to the Winter's Tale, let me enquire in what part of the former we are to search for the slightest traces of Leontes' jealousy (the hinge on which the fable turns) the noble fortitude of Hermione, the gallantry of Florizel, the spirit of Paulina, or the humour of Autolycus? Two stories cannot be said to have much correspondence, when the chief features that distinguish the one, are entirely wanting in the other.

Mr. Malone is likewise willing to suppose that Shakspeare contracted his dialogue in the last act of the Winter's Tale, because he had before exhausted himself on the same subject in Pericles. But it is easy to justify this distinction in our poet's conduct, on other principles. Neither the king or queen of Tyre feels the smallest degree of self-reproach. They meet with repeated expressions of rapture, for they were parted only by unprovoked misfortune. They speak without reserve, because there is nothing in their

-- 167 --

story which the one or the other can wish to be suppressed.— Leontes, on the contrary, seems content to welcome his return of happiness without expatiating on the means by which he had formerly lost it; nor does Hermione recapitulate her sufferings, through fear to revive the memory of particulars which might be construed into a reflection on her husband's jealousy. The discovery of Marina would likewise admit of clamorous transport, for similar reasons; but whatever could be said on the restoration of Perdita to her mother, would only tend to prolong the remorse of her father. Throughout the notes which I have contributed to the play of Pericles, I have not been backward to point out many of the particulars on which the opinion of Mr. Malone is built; for as truth, not victory, is the object of us both, I am sure we cannot wish to keep any part of the evidence that may seem to affect our reciprocal opinions, out of sight.

Mr. Malone is likewise solicitous to prove, from the wildness and irregularity of the fable, &c. that this was either our author's first, or one of his earliest dramas. It might have been so; and yet I am sorry to observe that the same qualities predominate in his more mature performances; but there these defects are instrumental in producing beauties. If we travel in Antony and Cleopatra from Alexandria to Rome—to Messina—into Syria—to Athens—to Actium, we are still relieved in the course of our peregrinations by variety of objects, and importance of events. But are we rewarded in the same manner for our journeys from Antioch to Tyre, from Tyre to Pentapolis, from Pentapolis to Tharsus, from Tharsus to Tyre, from Tyre to Mitylene, and from Mitylene to Ephesus?— In one light, indeed, I am ready to allow Pericles was our poet's first attempt. Before he was satisfied with his own strength, and trusted himself to the publick, he might have tried his hand with a partner, and entered the theatre in disguise. Before he ventured to face an audience on the stage, it was natural that he should peep at them through the curtain.

What Mr. Malone has called the inequalities of the poetry, I should rather term the patchwork of the style, in which the general flow of Shakspeare is not often visible. An unwearied blaze of words, like that which burns throughout Phædra and Hippolitus, and Mariamne, is never attempted by our author; for such uniformity could be maintained but by keeping nature at a distance. Inequality and wildness, therefore, cannot be received as criterions by which we are to distinguish the early pieces of Shakspeare from those which were written at a later period.

But one peculiarity relative to the complete genuineness of this play, has hitherto been disregarded, though in my opinion it is absolutely decisive. I shall not hesitate to affirm, that through different parts of Pericles, there are more frequent and more aukward ellipses than occur in all the other dramas attributed to the same author; and that these figures of speech appear only in such

-- 168 --

worthless portions of the dialogue as cannot with justice be imputed to him. Were the play the work of any single hand, it is natural to suppose that this clipt jargon would have been scattered over it with equality. Had it been the composition of our great poet, he would be found to have availed himself of the same licence in his other tragedies; nor perhaps, would an individual writer have called the same characters and places alternately Per&ishort;cles and Per&ibar;cles, Tha&ishort;sa and Tha&ibar;sa, Pentap&oshort;lis and Pentap&obar;lis. Shakspeare never varies the quantity of his proper names in the compass of one play. In Cymbeline we always meet with Posth&ubar;mus, not Posth&ushort;mus, Arvir&abar;gus, and not Arvir&ashort;gus.

It may appear singular that I have hitherto laid no stress on such parallels between the acknowledged plays of Shakspeare and Pericles, as are produced in the course of our preceding illustrations. But perhaps any argument that could be derived from so few of these, ought not to be decisive; for the same reasoning might tend to prove that every little coincidence of thought and expression, is in reality one of the petty larcenies of literature; and thus we might in the end impeach the original merit of those whom we ought not to suspect of having need to borrow from their predecessors* note. I can only add on this subject, (like Dr. Farmer) that the world is already possessed of the Marks of Imitation; and that there is scarce one English tragedy but bears some slight internal resemblance to another. I therefore attempt no deduction from premises occasionally fallacious, nor pretend to discover in the piece before us the draughts of scenes which were afterwards more happily wrought, or the slender and crude principles of ideas which on other occasions were dilated into consequence, or polished into lustre† note

note connection with B. and Fletcher, has not been proved by evidence of any kind. There are no verses written by either in his commendation; but they both stand convicted of having aimed their ridicule at passages in several of his plays. His imputed intimacy with one of them, is therefore unaccountable. Neither are the names of our great confederates enrolled with those of other wits who frequented the literary symposia held at the Devil Tavern in Fleet-street. As they were gentlemen of family and fortune, it is probable that they aspired to company of a higher rank than that of needy poets, or mercenary players. Their dialogue bears abundant testimony to this supposition; while Shakspeare's attempts to exhibit such sprightly conversations as pass between young men of elegance and fashion, are very rare, and almost confined (as Dr. Johnson remarks) to the characters of Mercutio and his associates. Our author could not easily copy what he had few opportunities of observing.—So much for the unlikeliness of Fletcher's having united with Shakspeare in the same composition.

But here it may be asked—why was the name of our poet joined with that of Beaumont's coadjutor in the Two Noble Kinsmen, rather than in any other play of the same author that so long remained in manuscript? I answer,—that this event might have taken its rise from the play-house tradition mentioned by Pope, and founded, as I conceive, on a singular occurrence, which it is my present office to point out and illustrate to my readers.

The language and images of this piece coincide perpetually with those in the dramas of Shakspeare. The same frequency of coincidence occurs in no other individual of Fletcher's works; and how is so material a distinction to be accounted for? Did Shakspeare assist the survivor of Beaumont in this tragedy? Surely no; for if he had, he would not (to borrow a conceit from Moth in Love's Labour's Lost) have written as if he had been at a great feast of tragedies, and stolen the scraps. It was natural that he should more studiously have abstained from the use of marked expressions in this than in any other of his pieces written without assistance. He cannot be suspected of so pitiful an ambition as that of setting his seal on the portions he wrote, to distinguish them from those of his colleague. It was his business to coalesce with Fletcher, and not to withdraw from him. But, were our author convicted of this jealous artifice, let me ask where we are to look for any single dialogue in which these lines of separation are not drawn. If they are to be regarded as land-marks to ascertain our author's property, they stand so constantly in our way, that we must, on their evidence, adjudge the whole literary estate to him. I hope no one will be found who supposes our duumvirate sat down to correct what each other wrote. To such an indignity Fletcher could not well have submitted; and such a drudgery Shakspeare would as hardly have endured. In Pericles it is no difficult task to discriminate the scenes in which the hand of the latter is evident. I say again, let the critick try if the same undertaking is as easy in the Two Noble Kinsmen. The style of Fletcher on other occasions is sufficiently distinct from Shakspeare's, though it may mix more intimately with that of Beaumont:


&grora;&grst; &grt;&grap; &gras;&grp;&gro;&grk;&gri;&grd;&grn;&graa;&grm;&gre;&grn;&gro;&grst; &grp;&gro;&grt;&gra;&grm;&gro;&gruc; &grk;&gre;&grl;&gra;&grd;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gro;&grst; &GRAs;&grr;&graa;&grc;&gre;&grw;
&grF;&graa;&grs;&gri;&grd;&gri; &grs;&gru;&grm;&grf;&grea;&grr;&gre;&grt;&gra;&gri; &grir;&gred;&grog;&grn; &grrr;&groa;&gro;&grn;. Apol. Rhod.
From loud Araxes Lycus' streams divide,
But roll with Phasis in a blended tide.

But, that my assertions relative to coincidence may not appear without some support, I proceed to insert a few of many instances that might be brought in aid of an opinion which I am ready to subjoin.—The first passage hereafter quoted is always from the Two Noble Kinsmen, edit. 1750; the second from the Plays of Shakspeare, edit. 1778.


1&lblank; Dear glass of ladies.
2&lblank; he was indeed the glass p. 9. Vol. X.
Wherein the noble youths did dress themselves. K. Hen. IV. P. II. Vol. V. p. 487.
1&lblank; blood-siz'd field—
2&lblank; o'er-sized with coagulate gore. p. 9. Hamlet, Vol. X. p. 264.
1. &lblank; as ospreys do the fish,
Subdue before they touch.—
2. &lblank; as is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
By sovereignty of nature. p. 11. Coriolanus, Vol. VII. p. 467
1. His ocean needs not my poor drops.
2. &lblank; as petty to his ends
As is the morn-dew on a myrtle leaf
To his grand sea. p. 20. Ant. and Cleop. Vol. VIII. p. 230.
1. Their intertangled roots of love.
2. &lblank; Grief and patience, rooted in him both,
Mingle their spurs together. p. 22. Cymbeline, Vol. IX. p. 278.
1. Lord, lord, the difference of men!
2. O, the difference of man and man! p. 30. K. Lear, Vol. IX. p. 502.
1. Like lazy clouds
2. &lblank; the lazy-pacing cloudsp. 30. R. and Juliet, Vol. X. p. 55.
1. &lblank; the angry swine
Flies like a Parthian.
2. Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight. p. 31. Cymbeline, Vol. IX. p. 202.

Mr. Seward observes that this comparison occurs no where in Shakspeare.


1. Banish'd the kingdom, &c.—
2. See the speech of Romeo on the same occasion.— p. 41. R. and Juliet, Vol. X. p. 101, &c.
1. &lblank; he has a tongue will tame
Tempests.—
2. &lblank; she would sing the savageness out of a bear.— p. 42. Othello, Vol. X. p. 574.
1. Theseus.] Tomorrow, by the sun, to do observance
To flowery May.
2. Theseus.]—they rose up early to observe
The rite of May. p. 47. Mid. Night's Dream. Vol. III. p. 97.
1. Let all the dukes and all the devils roar,
He is at liberty,—
2. And if the devil come and roar for them,
He shall not have them, p. 48. K. Hen. IV. Vol. V. p. 282.
1. Dear cousin Palamon—
Pal. Cozener Arcite.
2. &lblank; Gentle Harry Percy, and kind cousin,—
The devil take such cozeners. p. 51. K. Hen. IV. P. I. Vol. V. p. 289.
1. &lblank; this question, sick between us,
By bleeding must be cur'd.
2. Let's purge this choler without letting blood.— p. 54. K. Rich. II. Vol. V. p. 137.
1. &lblank; swim with your body,
And carry it sweetly—
2. Bear your body more seemly, Audrey. p. 61. As You Like It. Vol. III. p. 380.
1. And dainty duke whose doughty dismal fame.
2. Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade. p. 64. M. N. Dr. Vol. III. p. 111.
1. &lblank; And then she sung
Nothing but willow, willow
2. &lblank; sing willow, willowp. 79. Othello. Vol. X. p. 592.
1. Oh who can find the bent of woman's fancy!
2. Oh undistinguish'd space of woman's will! p. 84. K. Lear, Vol. IX. p. 533.
1. &lblank; like the great-ey'd Juno's, but far sweeter.
2. &lblank; sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. p. 84. Winter's T. Vol. IV. p. 380.
1. &lblank; better, o' my conscience,
Was never soldier's friend.
2. A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh. p. 86. Othello, Vol. X. p. 618.
1. &lblank; his tongue
Sounds like a trumpet.
2. Would plead like angels trumpet-tongued. p. 87. Macbeth, Vol. IV. p. 486.
&lblank; this would shew bravely,
Fighting about the titles of two kingdoms,
2. &lblank; such a sight as this
Becomes the field, but here shews much amiss. p. 89. Hamlet, Vol. X. p. 415.
1. Look where she comes! you shall perceive her behaviour,
2. Lo you where she comes! This is her very guise. p. 89. Macbeth, Vol. IV. p. 587.
1. &lblank; the burden on't was down-a down-a.
2. You must sing down-a down-a: oh how the wheel becomes it! p. 90. Hamlet, Vol. X. p. 355.
1. How her brain coins!—
2. This is the very coinage of your brain. p. 90. Hamlet, Vol. X. p. 327.
1. Doctor.]—not an engrafted madness, but a most thick and profound melancholy—
2. &lblank; Doctor.]—not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies— p. 91. Macbeth, Vol. IV. p. 596.
1. Doctor. I think she has a perturbed mind which I cannot minister to.
2. &lblank; perturbed spirit! p. 91. Hamlet, Vol. X. p. 228.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd?
Doctor.—therein the patient
Must minister to himself. Macbeth, Vol. IV. p. 596.
1. &lblank; to him that makes the camp a cistern
Brim'd with the blood of men.
2. The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit
Up to the ears in blood. p. 94. K. Hen. IV. P. I. Vol. V. p. 338.
1. &lblank; hast turn'd
Green Neptune into purple.
2. &lblank; the multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red. p. 94. Macbeth, Vol. IV. p. 505.
1. &lblank; lover, never yet
Made truer sigh
2. &lblank; never man
Sigh'd truer breath. p. 98. Coriolanus, Vol. VII. p. 453.
1. &lblank; arms in assurance
My body to this business.
2. &lblank; bends up
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. p. 99. Macbeth. Vol. IV. p. 491.
1. &lblank; thy female knights
2. &lblank; thy virgin knight. p. 99. Much Ado, &c. Vol. II. p. 367.
1. &lblank; with that thy rare green eye—
2. Hath not so quick, so green, so fair an eye. p. 99. R. and Juliet, Vol. X. p. 119.
His eyes were green as leeks. M. N. Dr. Vol. III. p. 120.
1. His costliness of spirit look'd through him.
2. Your spirits shine through you. p. 110. Macbeth, Vol. IV. p. 529.
1. &lblank; to dis-seat his lord,
2. &lblank; or dis-seat me now. p. 114. Macbeth Vol. IV. p. 544.

N. B. I have met with no other instances of the use of this word.


1. Disroot his rider whence he grew.
2. This gallant grew unto his seat. p. 115. hi Hamlet, Vol. X. p. 365.
1. And bear us like the time.
2. &lblank; to beguile the time,
Look like the time. p. 117. Macbeth, Vol. IV. p. 480.

It will happen, on familiar occasions, that diversity of expression is neither worth seeking, or easy to be found; as in the following instances:


Cer. Look to the lady. Pericles.
Macd. Look to the lady. Macbeth.
Cap. Look to the bak'd meats. Rom. and Jul.
Pal. Look to thy life well, Arcite! Two Noble Kinsmen.
Dion. How chance my daughter is not with you?— Pericles.
K. Hen. How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother? K. Hen. IV. P. II.
Dion. How now, Marina? why do you keep alone? Pericles.
Lady Macb. How now, my lord? why do you keep alone?— Macbeth.
Coun. &lblank; have with you, boys! Two Noble Kinsmen.
Bel. Have with you, boys! Cymbeline.
Daugh. Yours to command, i' th' way of honesty. Two N. Kinsmen.
Faulc. For I was got i' th' way of honesty. King John.
Thal.—if I can get him within my pistol's length. Pericles.
Phang. &lblank; an he come but within my vice. K. Henry IV. P. II.

All such examples I have abstained from producing; but the peculiar coincidence of many among those already given, suffers much by their not being viewed in their natural situations.

Let the criticks who can fix on any particular scenes which they conceive to have been written by Shakspeare, or let those who suppose him to have been so poor in language as well as ideas, that he was constrained to borrow in the compass of half the Noble Kinsmen from above a dozen entire plays of his own composition, advance some hypothesis more plausible than the following; and yet I flatter myself that readers may be found who will concur with me in believing this tragedy to have been written by Fletcher in silent imitation of our author's manner. No other circumstance could well have occasioned such a frequent occurrence of corresponding phrases, &c; nor, in my opinion, could any particular, but this, have induced the players to propagate the report, that our author was Fletcher's coadjutor in the piece.—There is nothing unusual in these attempts at imitation. Dryden, in his preface to All for Love, professes to copy the style of Shakspeare. Rowe, in his Jane Shore, arrogates to himself the merit of having pursued the same plan. How far these poets have succeeded, it is not my present business to examine; but Fletcher's imitation, like that of many others, is chiefly verbal; and yet (when joined with other circumstances) was perfect enough to have misled the judgment of the players. Those people, who in the course of their profession must have had much of Shakspeare's language recent in their memories, could easily discover traces of it in this performance. They could likewise observe that the drama opens with the same characters as first enter in the Midsummer Night's Dream; that Clowns exert themselves for the entertainment of Theseus in both; that a pedagogue likewise directs the sports in Love's Labour's Lost; that a character of female frenzy, copied from Ophelia, is notorious in the Jailor's Daughter; and that this girl, like Lady Macbeth, is attended by a physician who describes the difficulties of her case, and comments on it, in almost similar terms. They might therefore conclude that the play before us was in part a production of the same writer. Over this line, the criticks behind the scenes were unable to proceed. Their sagacity was insufficient to observe that the general current of the style was even throughout the whole, and bore no marks of a divided hand. Hence perhaps the sol geminus and duplices Thebæ of these very incompetent judges, who, like staunch match-makers, were desirous that the widow'd muse of Fletcher should not long remain without a bed-fellow.

Lest it should be urged that one of my arguments against Shakspeare's co-operation in the Two Noble Kinsmen, would equally militate against his share in Pericles, it becomes necessary for me to ward off any objection to that purpose, by remarking that the circumstances attendant on these two dramas are by no means exactly parallel. Shakspeare probably furnished his share in the latter at an early period of his authorship, and afterwards (having never owned it, or supposing it to be forgotten) was willing to profit by the most valuable lines and ideas it contained. But he would scarce have been considered himself as an object of imitation, before he had reached his meridian fame; and in my opinion, the Noble Kinsmen could not have been composed till after 1611, nor perhaps antecedent to the deaths of Beaumont and our author, when assistance and competition ceased, and the poet who resembled the latter most, had the fairest prospect of success. During the life of Beaumont, which concluded in 1615, it cannot well be supposed that Fletcher would have deserted him, to write in concert with any other dramatist. Shakspeare survived Beaumont only by one year, and, during that time, is known to have lived in Warwickshire, beyond the reach of Fletcher, who continued to reside in London till he fell a sacrifice to the plague in 1625; so that there was no opportunity for them to have joined in personal conference relative to the Two Noble Kinsmen; and without frequent interviews between confederate writers, a consistent tragedy can hardly be produced. But, at whatever time of Shakspeare's life Pericles was brought forth, it will not be found on examination to comprize a fifth part of the coincidence which may be detected in its successor; neither will a tenth division of the same relations be discovered in any one of his thirty-five dramas which have hitherto been published together.

To conclude, it is peculiarly apparent that this tragedy of the Two Noble Kinsmen was printed from a prompter's copy, as it exhibits such stage directions as I do not remember to have seen in any other drama of the same period. We may likewise take notice that there are fewer hemistichs in it than in any of Shakspeare's acknowledged productions. If one speech concludes with an imperfect verse, the next in general completes it. This is some indication of a writer more studious of neatness in composition than the pretended associate of Fletcher.

In the course of my investigation I am pleased to find I differ but on one occasion from Mr. Colman; and that is, in my disbelief that Beaumont had any share in this tragedy. The utmost beauties it contains, were within the reach of Fletcher, who has a right to wear


“Without corrival all his dignities:
“But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!”

because there is no just reason for supposing any poet but Chaucer has a right to dispute with him the reputation which the tale of Palamon and Arcite has so long and so indisputably maintained.

. Not that such a kind of evidence, however

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strong, or however skilfully applied, would divest my former arguments of their weight; for I admit without reserve that Shakspeare,

-- 170 --


“&lblank; whose hopeful colours
“Advance a half-fac'd sun striving to shine,”

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is visible in many scenes throughout the play. But it follows not from thence that he is answerable for its worst parts, though the

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best it contains may be, not dishonourably, imputed to him. Both weeds and flowers appear in the same parterre, yet we do

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not infer from their being found together, that they were planted by the same hand.

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Were I disposed, with controversial wantonness, to reason against conviction, I might add, that as Shakspeare is known to have

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borrowed whole speeches from the authors of Darius, King John, the Taming of a Shrew, &c. as well as from novelists and historians without number, so he might be suspected of having taken

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lines, and hints for future situations, from the play of Pericles, supposing it were the work of a writer somewhat more early than himself. Such splendid passages occur in the scenes of his contemporaries, as have not disgraced his own: and be it remembered, that many things which we at present are content to reckon only among the adoptions of our great poet, had been long regarded as his own proper effusions, and were as constantly enumerated among his distinguished beauties. No verses have been more frequently quoted, or more loudly applauded, than those beginning with The cloud-capt towers in the Tempest; but if our positions relative to the date of that play are well founded, Shakspeare's share in this celebrated account of nature's dissolution, is very inconsiderable.

To conclude, the play of Pericles was in all probability the composition of some friend whose interest the “gentle Shakspeare” was industrious to promote. He therefore improved his dialogue in many places; and knowing by experience that the strength of a dramatick piece should be augmented towards its catastrophe, was most liberal of his aid in the last act. We cannot be surprised to find that what he has supplied is of a different colour from the rest:


Scinditur in partes, geminoque cacumine surgit,
Thebanos imitata rogos;

for like Beaumont he was not writing in conjunction with a Fletcher.

Mr. Malone has asked how it happens that no memorial of an earlier drama on the subject of Pericles remains. I shall only answer by another question—Why is it the fate of still-born infants to be soon forgotten? In the rummage of some mass of ancient pamphlets and papers, the first of these two productions may hereafter make its appearance. The chance that preserved The Witch of Middleton, may at some distant period establish my general opinion concerning the authenticity of Pericles, which is already strengthened by those of Rowe and Dr. Farmer, and countenanced in some degree by the omission of Heminge and Condell. I was once disposed to entertain very different sentiments concerning the authority of title-pages; but on my mended judgment (if I offend not to say it is mended) I have found sufficient reason to change my creed, and confess the folly of advancing much on a question which I had not more than cursorily considered. —To this I must subjoin, that perhaps our author produced the Winter's Tale at the distance of several years from the time at which he corrected Pericles; and, for reasons hinted at in a preceding page, or through a forgetfulness common to all writers, repeated a few of the identical phrases and ideas which he had already used in that and other dramas. I have formerly observed in a note in King Lear, last edit. vol. ix. p. 561, that Shakspeare has appropriated the same sentiment, in nearly the

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same words, to Justice Shallow, King Lear, and Othello; and may now add that I find another allusion as nearly expressed in five different places:


“I'd strip myself to death, as for a bed
“That longing I'd been sick for.” Measure for Measure.
“I will encounter darkness like a bride,
“And hug it in my arms.” Ibidem.
“I will be
“A bridegroom in my death, and run unto't
“As to a lover's bed.” Antony and Cleopatra.
“I will die bravely like a bridegroom.” King Lear.
“&lblank; in terms like bride and bridegroom
“Divesting them for bed.” Othello.

The degree of credit due to the title-page of this tragedy is but very inconsiderable. It is not mentioned by Meres in 1598; but that Shakspeare was known to have had some and in it, was sufficient reason the whole should be fathered on him. The name of the original writer could have promoted a bookseller's purpose in but an inferior degree. In the year 1611, one of the same fraternity attempted to obtrude on the publick the old King John (in Dr. Farmer's opinion written by Rowley) as the work of our celebrated author.

But we are told with confidence, that


“Shakspeare's own muse his Pericles first bore,
“The Prince of Tyre was elder than the Moor.”

To the testimony of Dryden respect is always due, when he speaks of things within the compass of his own knowledge. But on the present occasion he could only take report, or a title page, for his guide; and seems to have preferr'd smoothness of versification to preciseness of expression. His meaning is completely given in the second line of his couplet. In both, he designs to say no more than that Shakspeare himself did not rise to excellence in his first plays; but that Pericles, one of the weakest imputed to him, was written before Othello, which has been always regarded as the most vigorous of his productions;—that of these two pieces, Pericles was the first. Dryden in all probability met with it in the folio edition, 1664, and enquired no farther concerning its authenticity. The birth of his friend Sir William Davenant happened in 1605, at least ten years below the date of this contested drama* note

.

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The abuse of J. Tatham would have deserved no reply, had it not been raised into consequence by its place in Mr. Malone's Preliminary Observations. I think it therefore but justice to observe, that this obscure wretch who calls our author a “plebeian driller,” (droller I suppose he meant to say) has thereby bestowed on him a portion of involuntary applause. Because Horace has pronounced that he who pleases the great is not entitled to the lowest of encomiums, are we therefore to infer that the man who has given delight to the vulgar, has no claim also to his dividend of praise?—interdum vulgus rectum putat. It is the peculiar merit of Shakspeare's scenes, that they are generally felt and understood. The tumid conceits of modern tragedy communicate no sensations to the highest or the meanest rank. Sentimental comedy is not much more fortunate in its efforts. But can the period be pointed out in which King Lear and the Merry Wives of Windsor did not equally entertain those who fill the boxes and the gallery, primores populi, populumque tributim?

Before I close this enquiry, which has swelled into an unexpected bulk, let me ask, whose opinion confers most honour on Shakspeare, my opponent's or mine. Mr. Malone is desirous that his favourite poet should be regarded as the sole author of a drama which, collectively taken, is unworthy of him. I only wish the reader to adopt a more moderate creed, that the purpurei panni are Shakspeare's, and the rest the production of some inglorious and forgotten playwright.

If consistently with my real belief I could have supported instead of controverting the sentiments of this gentleman, whom I have the honour to call my friend, I should have been as happy in doing so as I now am in confessing my literary obligations to him, and acknowledging how often in the course of the preceding volume he has supplied my deficiencies, and rectified my errors.

On the whole, were the intrinsick merits of Pericles yet less than they are, it would be entitled to respect among the curious

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in dramatick literature. As the engravings of Mark Antonio are valuable not only on account of their beauty, but because they are supposed to have been executed under the eye of Raffaelle, so Pericles will continue to owe some part of its reputation to the touches it is said to have received from the hand of Shakspeare.

To the popularity of the Prince of Tyre (which is sufficiently evident from the testimonies referred to by Mr. Malone) we may impute the unprecedented corruptions in its text. What was acted frequently, must have been frequently transcribed for the use of prompters and players; and through the medium of such faithless copies it should seem that most of our early theatrical pieces were transmitted to the publick. There are certainly more gross mistakes in this than in any other tragedy attributed to Shakspeare. Indeed so much of it, as hitherto printed, was absolutely unintelligible, that the reader had no power to judge of the rank it ought to hold among our ancient dramatick performances. Steevens.

Mr. Steevens's intimate acquaintance with the writings of Shakspeare renders him so well qualified to decide upon this question, that it is not without some distrust of my own judgment that I express my dissent from his decision; but as all the positions that he has endeavoured to establish in his ingenious disquisition on the merits and authenticity of Pericles do not appear to me to have equal weight, I shall shortly state the reasons why I cannot subscribe to his opinion with regard to this long-contested piece.

The imperfect imitation of the language and numbers of Gower, which is found in the Choruses of this play, is not in my apprehension a proof that they were not written by Shakspeare. To summon a person from the grave, and to introduce him by way of Chorus to the drama, appears to have been no uncommon practice with our author's contemporaries. Marlowe, before the time of Shakspeare, had in this way introduced Machiavel in his Jew of Malta; and his countryman Guicciardine is brought upon the stage in an ancient tragedy called The Devil's Charter. In the same manner Rainulph, the monk of Chester, appears in The Mayor of Quinborough, written by Thomas Middleton. Yet it never has been objected to the authors of the two former pieces, as a breach of decorum, that the Italians whom they have brought into the scene do not speak the language of their own country; or to the writer of the latter, that the monk whom he has introduced does not use the English dialect of the age in which he lived.—But it may be said, “nothing of this kind is attempted by these poets; the author of Pericles, on the other hand, has endeavoured to copy the versification of Gower, and has failed in the attempt: had this piece been the composition of Shakspeare, he would have succeeded.”

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I shall very readily acknowledge, that Shakspeare, if he had thought fit, could have exhibited a tolerably accurate imitation of the language of Gower; for there can be little doubt, that what has been effected by much inferior writers, he with no great difficulty could have accomplished. But that, because these Choruses do not exhibit such an imitation, they were therefore not his performance, does not appear to me a necessary conclusion; for he might not think such an imitation proper for a popular audience. Gower, like the persons above mentioned, would probably have been suffered to speak the same language as the other characters in this piece, had he not written a poem containing the very story on which the play is formed. Like Guicciardine and the monk of Chester, he is called up to superintend a relation found in one of his own performances. Hence Shakspeare seems to have thought it proper (not, to copy his versification, for that does not appear to have been at all in his thoughts, but) to throw a certain air of antiquity over the monologues which he has attributed to the venerable bard. Had he imitated the diction of the Confessio Amantis with accuracy, he well knew that it would have been as unintelligible to the greater part of his audience as the Italian of Guicciardine or the Latin of Rainulph; for, I suppose, there can be no doubt, that the language of Gower (which is almost as far removed from that of Hooker and Fairfax, as it is from the prose of Addison or the poetry of Pope,) was understood by none but scholars* note, even in the time of queen Elizabeth. Having determined to introduce the contemporary of Chaucer in the scene, it was not his business to exhibit so perfect an imitation of his diction as perhaps with assiduity and study he might have accomplished, but such an antiquated style as might be understood by the people before whom his play was to be represented† note.

As the language of these Choruses is, in my opinion, insufficient to prove that they were not the production of Shakspeare, so also is the inequality of metre which may be observed in different parts of them; for the same inequality is found in the lyrical parts of Macbeth and The Midsummer Night's Dreamnote. It may

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likewise be remarked, that as in Pericles, so in many other of our author's early performances, alternate rhimes frequently occur; a practice which I have not observed in any other dramatick performances of that age, intended for publick representation.* note.

Before I quit the subject of the Choruses introduced in this piece, let me add, that, like many other parts of this play, they contain some marked expressions, certain ardentia verba, that are also found in the undisputed works of our great poet; which any one who will take the trouble to compare them with the Choruses in King Henry V. and The Winter's Tale, will readily perceive. If, in order to account for the similitude, it shall be said, that though Shakspeare did not compose these declamations of Gower, he might have retouched them, as that is a point which never can be ascertained, so no answer can be given to it.

That the play of Pericles was originally written by another poet, and afterwards improved by Shakspeare, I do not see sufficient reason to believe. It may be true, that all which the improver of a dramatick piece originally ill-constructed can do, is, to polish the language, and to add a few splendid passages; but that this play was the work of another, which Shakspeare from his friendship for the author revised and corrected, is the very point in question, and therefore cannot be adduced as a medium to prove that point. It appears to me equally improbable that Pericles was formed on an unsuccessful drama of a preceding period; and that all the weaker scenes are taken from thence. We know indeed that it was a frequent practice of our author to avail himself of the labours of others, and to construct a new drama upon an old foundation; but the pieces that he has thus imitated are yet extant. We have an original Taming of a Shrew, a King John, a Promos and Cassandra, a King Leir, &c. but where is this old play of Periclesnote? or how comes it to pass that no memorial of such a drama remains? Even if it could be proved that such a piece once existed, it would not warrant us in supposing that the less vigorous parts of the performance in question were taken from thence; for though Shakspeare borrowed the fables of the ancient dramas just now enumerated, he does not appear to have transcribed a single scene from any one of them.

Still however it may be urged, if Shakspeare was the original author of this play, and this was one of his earliest productions, he would scarcely, in a subsequent period, have introduced in his Winter's Tale some incidents and expressions which bear a strong resemblance to the latter part of Pericles: on the other hand, he might not scruple to copy the performance of a preceding poet.

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Before we acquiesce in the justice of this reasoning, let us examine what has been his practice in those dramas concerning the authenticity of which there is no doubt. Is it true that Shakspeare has rigidly abstained from introducing incidents or characters similar to those which he had before brought upon the stage? Or rather, is not the contrary notorious? In Much Ado about Nothing the two principal persons of the drama frequently remind us of two other characters that had been exhibited in an early production,—Love's Labour's Lost. In All's Well that Ends Well and Measure for Measure we find the same artifice twice employed; and in many other of his plays the action is embarrassed, and the denouement effected, by contrivances that bear a striking similitude to each other.

The conduct of Pericles and The Winter's Tale, which have several events common to both, gives additional weight to the supposition that the two pieces proceeded from the same hand. In the latter our author has thrown the discovery of Perdita into narration, as if through consciousness of having already exhausted, in the business of Marina, all that could render such an incident affecting on the stage. Leontes too says but little to Hermione, when he finds her; their mutual situations having been likewise anticipated by the Prince of Tyre and Thaisa, who had before amply expressed the transports natural to unexpected meeting after long and painful separation.

All the objections which are founded on the want of liaison between the different parts of this piece, on the numerous characters introduced in it, not sufficiently connected with each other, on the various and distant countries in which the scene is laid,— may, I think, be answered, by saying that the author pursued the story exactly as he found it either in the Confessio Amantis* note

or some prose translation of the Gesta Romanorum; a practice which Shakspeare is known to have followed in many plays, and to which most of the faults that have been urged against his dramas may be imputed† note.—If while we travel in Antony and Cleopatra* note

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from one country to another with no less rapidity than in the present piece, the objects presented to us are more beautiful, and the prospect more diversified, let it be remembered at the same time, that between the composition of these two plays there was probably an interval of at least fifteen years; that even Shakspeare himself must have gradually acquired information like other mortals, and in that period must have gained a knowledge of many characters and various modes of life, with which in his earlier years he was unacquainted.

If this play had come down to us in the state in which the poet left it, its numerous ellipses might fairly be urged to invalidate Shakspeare's claim to the whole or to any part of it. But the argument that is founded in these irregularities of the style loses much of its weight, when it is considered, that the earliest printed copy appears in so imperfect a form, that there is scarcely a single page of it undisfigured by the grossest corruptions. As many words have been inserted, inconsistent not only with the author's meaning, but with any meaning whatsoever, as many verses appear to have been transposed, and some passages are appropriated to characters to whom manifestly they do not belong, so there is great reason to believe that many words and even lines were omitted at the press; and it is highly probable that the printer is answerable for more of these ellipses than the poet. The same observation may be extended to the metre, which might have been originally sufficiently smooth and harmonious, though now, notwithstanding the editor's best care, it is feared it will be found in many places rugged and defective.

On the appearance of Shakspeare's name in the title-page of the original edition of Pericles, it is acknowledged no great stress can be laid; for by the knavery of printers or booksellers it has been likewise affixed to two pieces, of which it may be doubted

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whether a single line was written by our author. However, though the name of Shakspeare may not alone authenticate this play, it is not in the scale of evidence entirely insignificant; nor is it a fair conclusion, that, because we are not to confide in the title-pages of two dramas which are proved by the whole colour of the style and many other considerations not to have been the composition of Shakspeare, we are therefore to give no credit to the title of a piece, which we are led by very strong internal proof, and by many corroborating circumstances, to attribute to him. Though the title-pages of The London Prodigal and Sir John Oldcastle should clearly appear to be forgeries, those of Henry IV. and Othello will still remain unimpeached.

The non-enumeration of Pericles in Meres's Catalogue of our author's plays, printed in 1598, is undecisive with respect to the authenticity of this piece; for neither are the three parts of King Henry VI. nor Hamlet mentioned in that list; though it is certain they were written, and had been publickly performed, before his book was published.

Why this drama was omitted in the first edition of Shakspeare's works, it is impossible now to ascertain. But if we shall allow the omission to be a decisive proof that it was not the composition of our author, we must likewise exclude Troilus and Cressida from the list of his performances: for it is certain, this was likewise omitted by the editors of the first folio, nor did they see their error till the whole work and even the table of contents was printed; as appears from its not being paged, or enumerated in that table with his other plays. I do not, however, suppose that the editors, Heminge and Condell, did not know who was the writer of Troilus and Cressida, but that the piece, though printed some years before, for a time escaped their memory. The same may be said of Pericles. Why this also was not recovered, as well as the other, we can now only conjecture. Perhaps they thought their volume had already swelled to a sufficient size, and they did not chuse to run the risk of retarding the sale of it by encreasing its bulk and price; perhaps they did not recollect the Prince of Tyre till their book had been issued out; or perhaps they considered it more for their friend's credit to omit this juvenile performance. Ben. Jonson, when he collected his pieces into a volume, in the year 1616, in like manner omitted a comedy called The Case is Altered, which had been printed with his name some years before, and appears to have been one of his earliest productions; having been exhibited before the year 1599.

After all, perhaps, the internal evidence which this drama itself affords of the hand of Shakspeare is of more weight than any other argument that can be adduced. If we are to form our judgment by those unerring criterions which have been established by the learned author of the Discourse on Poetical Imitation,

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the question will be quickly decided; for who can point out two writers, that without any communication or knowledge of each other ever produced so many passages, coinciding both in sentiment and expression, as are found in this piece and the undisputed plays of Shakspeare* note? Should it be said, that he did not scruple to borrow both fables and sentiments from other writers, and that therefore this circumstance will not prove this tragedy to be his, it may be answered, that had Pericles been an anonymous production, this coincidence might not perhaps ascertain Shakspeare's title to the play; and he might with sufficient probability be supposed to have only borrowed from another; but when, in addition to all the circumstances already stated, we recollect the constant tradition that has accompanied this piece, and that it was printed with his name, in his life-time, as acted at his own theatre, the parallel passages which are so abundantly scattered throughout every part of Pericles and his undisputed performances, afford no slight proof, that in the several instances enumerated in the course of the preceding observations, he borrowed, as was his frequent practice, from himself; and that this contested play was his own composition.

The testimony of Dryden to this point does not appear to me so inconsiderable as it has been represented. If he had only meant to say, that Pericles was produced before Othello, the second line of the couplet which has been already quoted, would have sufficiently expressed his meaning; nor, in order to convey this idea, was it necessary to call the former the first dramatick performance of Shakspeare; a particular, which he lived near enough the time to have learned from stage-tradition, or the more certain information of his friend sir William D'Avenant† note.

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If he had only taken the folio edition of our author's works for his guide, without any other authority, he would have named the Tempest as his earliest production; because it happens to stand first in the volume. But however this may be, and whether, when Dryden entitled Pericles our author's first composition, he meant to be understood literally or not, let it be remembered, that he calls it his Pericles; that he speaks of it as the legitimate, not the spurious or adopted, offspring of our poet's muse; as the sole, not the partial, property of Shakspeare.

I am yet therefore unconvinced, that this drama was not written by our author. The wildness and irregularity of the fable, the artless conduct of the piece, and the inequalities of the poetry, may, I think, be all accounted for, by supposing it either his first or one of his earliest essays in dramatick composition. Malone.

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LOCRINE.
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Edmond Malone [1780], Supplement to the edition of Shakspeare's plays published in 1778 By Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. In two volumes. Containing additional observations by several of the former commentators: to which are subjoined the genuine poems of the same author, and seven plays that have been ascribed to him; with notes By the editor and others (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10911].
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