Having premis'd thus much about the state and condition of these first copies, it may not be improper, nor will it be absolutely a digression, to add something concerning their authenticity: In doing which, it will be greatly for the reader's ease,—and our own, to confine ourselves to the quarto's: which, it is hop'd, he will allow

of; especially, as our intended vindication of them will also include in it (to the eye of a good observer) that of the plays that appear'd first in the folio: which therefore omitting, we now turn ourselves to the quarto's.

We have seen the slur that is endeavour'd to be thrown upon them indiscriminately by the player editors, and we see it too wip'd off by their having themselves follow'd the copies that they condemn. A modern editor, who is not without his followers, is pleas'd to assert confidently in his preface, that they are printed from “piece-meal parts, and copies of prompters:” but his arguments for it are some of them without foundation, and the others not conclusive; and it is to be doubted, that the opinion is only thrown out to countenance an abuse that has been carry'd to much too great lengths by himself and another editor,—that of putting out of the text passages that they did not like. These censures then and this opinion being set aside, is it criminal to try another conjecture, and see what can be made of it? It is known, that Shakespeare liv'd to no great age, being taken off in his fifty third year; and yet his works are so numerous, that, when we take a survey of them, they seem the productions of a life of twice that length: for to the

thirty six plays in this collection, we must add seven, (one of which is in two parts) perhaps written over again; ^{4 note} seven others that were publish'd some of them in his life-time, and all with his name; and another seven, that are upon good grounds imputed to him; making in all, fifty eight plays; besides the part that he may reasonably be thought to have had in other men's labours, being himself a player and manager of theatres: What his prose productions were, we know not: but it can hardly be suppos'd, that he, who had so considerable a share in the confidence of the earls of Essex and Southampton, could be a mute spectator only of controversies in which they were so much interested; and his other poetical works, that are known, will fill a volume the size of these that we have here. When the number and bulk of these pieces, the shortness of his life, and the other busy employments of it are reflected upon duly, can it be a wonder that he should be so loose a transcriber of them? or why should we refuse to give credit to what his companions tell us, of the state of those transcriptions, and of the facility with which they were pen'd? Let it then be granted, that these quarto's are the Poet's own copies, however they were come by; hastily written at first, and issuing from presses most of them as corrupt and licentious as can any where be produc'd, and not overseen by himself, nor by

any of his friends: And there can be no stronger reason for subscribing to any opinion, than may be drawn in favour of this from the condition of all the other plays that were first printed in the folio: for, in method of publication, they have the greatest likeness possible to those which preceeded them, and carry all the same marks of haste and negligence; yet the genuineness of the latter is attested by those who publish'd them, and no proof brought to invalidate their testimony. If it be still ask'd, what then becomes of the accusation brought against the quarto's by the player editors, the answer is not so far off as may perhaps be expected: It may be true, that they were “stoln;” but stoln from the Author's copies, by transcribers who found means to get at them:^{5 note} and “maim'd” they must needs be, in respect of their many alterations after the first performance: And who knows, if the difference that is between them, in some of the plays that are common to them both, has not been studiously heighten'd by the player editors,—who had the means in their power, being masters of all the alterations, —to give at once a greater currency to their own lame edition, and support the charge which they bring against the quarto's? this, at least, is a probable opinion, and no bad way of accounting for those differences.^{6 note}

It were easy to add abundance of other arguments in

favour of these quarto's;—Such as, their exact affinity to almost all the publications of this sort that came out about that time; of which it will hardly be asserted by any reasoning man, that they are all clandestine copies, and publish'd without their authors' consent: Next, the high improbability of supposing that none of these plays were of the Poet's own setting-out: whose case is render'd singular by such a supposition; it being certain, that every other author of the time, without exception, who wrote any thing largely, publish'd some of his plays himself, and Ben Jonson all of them: Nay, the very errors and faults of these quarto's,—some of them at least, and those such as are brought against them by other arguers, —are, with the editor, proofs of their genuineness; For from what hand, but that of the Author himself, could come those seemingly-strange repetitions which are spoken of at p. 4? those imperfect entries, and entries of persons who have no concern in the play at all, neither in the scene where they are made to enter, nor in any other part of it? yet such there are in several of these quarto's; and such might well be expected in the hasty draughts of so negligent an Author, who neither saw at once all he might want, nor, in some instances, gave himself sufficient time to consider the fitness

of what he was then penning. These and other like arguments might, as is said before, be collected, and urg'd for the plays that were first publish'd in the quarto's; that is, for fourteen of them, for the other six are out of the question: But what has been enlarg'd upon above, of their being follow'd by the folio, and their apparent general likeness to all the other plays that are in that collection, is so very forcible as to be sufficient of itself to satisfy the unprejudic'd, that the plays of both impressions spring all from the same stock, and owe their numerous imperfections to one common origin and cause,— the too-great negligence and haste of their over-careless Producer.

But to return to the thing immediately treated,—the state of the old editions. The quarto's went through many impressions, as may be seen in the Table: and, in each play, the last is generally taken from the impression next before it, and so onward to the first; the few that come not within this rule, are taken notice of in the Table: And this further is to be observ'd of them: that, generally speaking, the more distant they are from the original, the more they abound in faults; 'till, in the end, the corruptions of the last copies become so excessive, as to make them of hardly any worth. The folio too

had it's re-impressions, the dates and notices of which are likewise in the Table, and they tread the same round as did the quarto's: only that the third of them has seven plays more, (see their titles below^{7 note}) in which it is follow'd by the last; and that again by the first of the modern impressions, which come now to be spoken of.

If the stage be a mirror of the times, as undoubtedly it is, and we judge of the age's temper by what we see prevailing there, what must we think of the times that succeeded Shakespeare? Jonson, favour'd by a court that delighted only in masques, had been gaining ground upon him even in his life-time; and his death put him in full possession of a post he had long aspir'd to, the empire of the drama: The props of this new king's throne, were—Fletcher, Shirley, Middleton, Massinger, Broome, and others; and how unequal they all were, the monarch and his subjects too, to the Poet they came after, let their works testify: yet they had the vogue on their side, during all those blessed times that preceded the civil war, and Shakespeare was held in disesteem. The war, and medley government that follow'd, swept all these things away: but they were restor'd with the king; and another stage took place, in which Shakespeare had little share. Dryden had

then the lead, and maintain'd it for half a century: though his government was sometimes disputed by Lee, Tate, Shadwell, Wytcherley, and others; weaken'd much by “The Rehearsal;” and quite overthrown in the end by Otway, and Rowe: What the cast of their plays was, is known to every one: but that Shakespeare, the true and genuine Shakespeare, was not much relish'd, is plain from the many alterations of him, that were brought upon the stage by some of those gentlemen, and by others within that period.

But, from what has been said, we are not to conclude —that the Poet had no admirers: for the contrary is true; and he had in all this interval no inconsiderable party amongst men of the greatest understanding, who both saw his merit, in despite of the darkness it was then wrapt up in, and spoke loudly in his praise; but the stream of the publick favour ran the other way. But this too coming about at the time we are speaking of, there was a demand for his works, and in a form that was more convenient than the folio's: in consequence of which, the gentleman last mention'd was set to work by the booksellers; and, in 1709, he put out an edition in six volumes, octavo, which, unhappily, is the basis of all the other moderns: For this editor went no further than to

the edition nearest to him in time, which was the folio of 1685, the last and worst of those impressions: this he republish'd with great exactness; correcting here and there some of it's grossest mistakes, and dividing into acts and scenes the plays that were not divided before.

But no sooner was this edition in the hands of the publick, than they saw in part its deficiences, and one of another sort began to be required of them; which accordingly was set about some years after by two gentlemen at once, Mr. Pope, and Mr. Theobald. The labours of the first came out in 1725, in six volumes, quarto: and he has the merit of having first improv'd his Author, by the insertion of many large passages, speeches, and single lines, taken from the quarto's; and of amending him in other places, by reading fetch'd from the same: but his materials were few, and his collation of them not the most careful; which, join'd to other faults, and to that main one—of making his predecessor's the copy himself follow'd, brought his labours in disrepute, and has finally sunk them in neglect.

His publication retarded the other gentleman, and he did not appear 'till the year 1733, when his work too came out in seven volumes, octavo. The opposition that was between them seems to have enflam'd him, which was heighten'd by other motives, and he declaims vehemently against the work of his antagonist: which yet

serv'd him for a model; and his own is made only a little better, by his having a few more materials; of which he was not a better collator than the other, nor did he excel him in use of them; for, in this article, both their judgments may be equally call'd in question: in what he has done that is conjectural, he is rather more happy; but in this he had large assistances.

But the gentleman that came next, is a critick of another stamp; and pursues a track, in which it is greatly to be hop'd he will never be follow'd in the publication of any authors whatsoever: for this were, in effect, to annihilate them, if carry'd a little further; by destroying all marks of peculiarity and notes of time, all easiness of expression and numbers, all justness of thought, and the nobility of not a few of their conceptions: The manner in which his Author is treated, excites an indignation that will be thought by some to vent itself too strongly; but terms weaker would do injustice to my feelings, and the censure shall be hazarded. Mr. Pope's edition was the ground-work of this over-bold one; splendidly printed at Oxford in six quarto volumes, and publish'd in the year 1744: The publisher disdains all collation of folio, or quarto; and fetches all from his great self, and the moderns his predecessors: wantoning in very licence of conjecture; and sweeping all before him, (without notice, or reason given) that not suits his

taste, or lies level to his conceptions. But this justice should be done him:—as his conjectures are numerous, they are oftentimes not unhappy; and some of them are of that excellence, that one is struck with amazement to see a person of so much judgment as he shows himself in them, adopt a method of publishing that runs counter to all the ideas that wise men have hitherto entertain'd of an editor's province and duty.

The year 1747 produc'd a fifth edition, in eight octavo volumes, publish'd by Mr. Warburton; which though it is said in the title-page to be the joint work of himself and the second editor, the third ought rather to have been mention'd, for it is printed from his text. The merits of this performance have been so thoroughly discuss'd in two very ingenious books, “The Canons of Criticism,” and “Revisal of Shakespeare's Text,” that it is needless to say any more of it: this only shall be added to what may be there met with,—that the edition is not much benefited by fresh acquisitions from the old ones, which this gentleman seems to have neglected.^{8 note}

Other charges there are, that might be brought against these modern impressions, without infringing the laws of truth or candour either: but what is said, will be sufficient; and may satisfy their greatest favourers,—

that the superstructure cannot be a sound one, which is built upon so bad a foundation as that work of Mr. Rowe's; which all of them, as we see, in succession, have yet made their corner-stone: The truth is, it was impossible that such a beginning should end better than it has done: the fault was in the setting-out; and all the diligence that could be us'd, join'd to the discernment of a Pearce, or a Bentley, could never purge their Author of all his defects by their method of proceeding.

The editor now before you was appriz'd in time of this truth; saw the wretched condition his Author was reduc'd to by these late tamperings, and thought seriously of a cure for it, and that so long ago as the year 1745; for the attempt was first suggested by that gentleman's performance, which came out at Oxford the year before: Which when he had perus'd with no little astonishment, and consider'd the fatal consequences that must inevitably follow the imitation of so much licence, he resolv'd himself to be the champion; and to exert to the uttermost such abilities as he was master of, to save from further ruin an edifice of this dignity, which England must for ever glory in. Hereupon he possess'd himself of the other modern editions, the folio's, and as many quarto's as could presently be procur'd; and, within

a few years after, fortune and industry help'd him to all the rest, six only excepted;^{9 note} adding to them withal twelve more, which the compilers of former tables had no knowledge of. Thus furnish'd, he fell immediately to collation,—which is the first step in works of this nature; and, without it, nothing is done to purpose,—first of moderns with moderns, then of moderns with ancients, and afterwards of ancients with others more ancient: 'till, at the last, a ray of light broke forth upon him, by which he hop'd to find his way through the wilderness of these editions into that fair country the Poet's real habitation. He had not proceeded far in his collation, before he saw cause to come to this resolution; —to stick invariably to the old editions, (that is, the best of them) which hold now the place of manuscripts, no scrap of the Author's writing having the luck to come down to us; and never to depart from them, but in cases where reason, and the uniform practice of men of the greatest note in this art, tell him—they may be quitted; nor yet in those, without notice. But it will be necessary, that the general method of this edition should now be lay'd open; that the publick may be put in a capacity not only of comparing it with those they already have, but of judging whether any thing remains to be done towards the fixing this Author's text in the manner himself gave it.

It is said a little before,—that we have nothing of his

in writing; that the printed copies are all that is left to guide us; and that those copies are subject to numberless imperfections, but not all in like degree: our first business then, was—to examine their merit, and see on which side the scale of goodness preponderated; which we have generally found, to be on that of the most ancient: It may be seen in the Table, what editions are judg'd to have the preference among those plays that were printed singly in quarto; and for those plays, the text of those editions is chiefly adher'd to: in all the rest, the first folio is follow'd; the text of which is by far the most faultless of the editions in that form; and has also the advantage in three quarto plays, in “2. Henry IV, Othello, and Richard III.” Had the editions thus follow'd been printed with carefulness, from correct copies, and copies not added to or otherwise alter'd after those impressions, there had been no occasion for going any further: but this was not at all the case, even in the best of them; and it therefore became proper and necessary to look into the other old editions, and to select from thence whatever improves the Author, or contributes to his advancement in perfectness, the point in view throughout all this performance: that they do improve him, was with the editor an argument in their favour; and a presumption of genuineness for what is thus selected, whether additions, or differences of any other nature; and the causes of their appearing in some copies, and

being wanting in others, cannot now be discover'd, by reason of the time's distance, and defect of fit materials for making the discovery. Did the limits of his Introduction allow of it, the editor would gladly have dilated and treated more at large this article of his plan; as that which is of greatest importance, and most likely to be contested of any thing in it: but this doubt, or this dissent, (if any be) must come from those persons only who are not yet possess'd of the idea they ought to entertain of these ancient impressions; for of those who are, he fully persuades himself he shall have both the approof and the applause. But without entering further in this place into the reasonableness, or even necessity, of so doing, he does for the present acknowledge,—that he has every-where made use of such materials as he met with in other old copies, which he thought improv'd the editions that are made the ground-work of the present text: And whether they do so, or no, the judicious part of the world may certainly know, by turning to a Collection that will be publish'd; where all discarded readings are enter'd, all additions noted, and variations of every kind; and the editions specify'd, to which they severally belong.

But, when these helps were administer'd, there was yet behind a very great number of passages, labouring under various defects and those of various degree, that had their cure to seek from some other sources, that of copies affording it no more: For these he had recourse in the first place to the assistance of modern copies: and, where that was incompetent, or else absolutely deficient, which was very often the case, there he sought the remedy in himself, using judgment and conjecture; which,

he is bold to say, he will not be found to have exercis'd wantonly, but to follow the establish'd rules of critique with soberness and temperance. These emendations, (whether of his own, or other gentlemen^{10 note}) carrying in themselves a face of certainty, and coming in aid of places that were apparently corrupt, are admitted into the text, and the rejected reading is always put below; some others,—that have neither that certainty, nor are of that necessity; but are specious and plausible, and may be thought by some to mend the passage they belong to,—will have a place in the Collection that is spoken of above. But where it is said, that the rejected reading is always put below, this must be taken with some restriction: for some of the emendations, and of course the ancient readings upon which they are grounded, being of a complicated nature, the general method was there inconvenient; and, for these few, you are refer'd to a Note which will be found among the rest: and another sort there are, that are simply insertions; these are effectually pointed out by being printed in the gothick or black character.

Hitherto, the defects and errors of these old editions have been of such a nature, that we could lay them before the reader, and submit to his judgment the remedies that are apply'd to them; which is accordingly done, either in the page itself where they occur, or in some

note that is to follow: But there are some behind that would not be so manag'd; either by reason of their frequency, or difficulty of subjecting them to the rules under which the others are brought: they have been spoken of before at p. 4, where the corruptions are all enumerated, and are as follows;—a want of proper exits and entrances, and of many scenical directions, throughout the work in general, and, in some of the plays, a want of division; and the errors are those of measure, and punctuation: all these are mended, and supply'd, without notice and silently; but the reasons for so doing, and the method observ'd in doing it, shall be a little enlarg'd upon, that the fidelity of the editor, and that which is chiefly to distinguish him from those who have gone before, may stand sacred and unimpeachable; and, first, of the division.

The thing chiefly intended in reprinting the list of titles that may be seen at p. 7, was,—to show which plays were divided into acts, which into acts and scenes, and which of them were not divided at all; and the number of the first class is—eight, of the third—eleven: for though in “Henry V, 1. Henry VI, Love's Labour's lost, and The Taming of the Shrew,” there is some division aim'd at; yet it is so lame and erroneous, that it was thought best to consider them as totally undivided, and to rank them accordingly: Now when these plays were

to be divided, as well those of the first class as those of the third, the plays of the second class were studiously attended to; and a rule was pick'd out from them, by which to regulate this division: which rule might easily have been discover'd before, had but any the least pains been bestow'd upon it; and certainly it was very well worth it, since neither can the representation be manag'd, nor the order and thread of the fable be properly conceiv'd by the reader, 'till this article is adjusted. The plays that are come down to us divided, must be look'd upon as of the Author's own settling; and in them, with regard to acts, we find him following establish'd precepts, or, rather, conforming himself to the practice of some other dramatick writers of his time; for they, it is likely, and Nature, were the books he was best acquainted with: His scene divisions he certainly did not fetch from writers upon the drama; for, in them, he observes a method in which perhaps he is singular, and he is invariable in the use of it: with him, a change of scene implies generally a change of place, though not always; but always an entire evacuation of it, and a succession of new persons: that liaison of the scenes, which Jonson seems to have attempted, and upon which the French stage prides itself, he does not appear to have had any idea of; of the other unities he was perfectly well appriz'd; and has follow'd them, in one of his

plays, with as great strictness and greater happiness than can perhaps be met with in any other writer: the play meant, is “The Comedy of Errors;” in which the action is one, the place one, and the time such as even Aristotle himself would allow of—the revolution of half a day: But even in this play, the change of scene arises from change of persons, and by that it is regulated; as are also all the other plays that are not divided in the folio: for whoever will take the trouble to examine those that are divided, (and they are pointed out for him in the list) will see them conform exactly to the rule above-mention'd; and can then have but little doubt, that it should be apply'd to all the rest.^{11 note} To have distinguish'd these divisions,—made (indeed) without the authority, but following the example of the folio,—had been useless and troublesome; and the editor fully persuades himself, that what he has said will be sufficient, and that he shall be excus'd by the ingenious and candid for overpassing them without further notice: whose pardon he hopes also to have for some other unnotic'd matters that are related to this in hand, such as—marking the place of action, both general and particular; supplying scenical directions; and due regulating of exits, and entrances: for of the first, there is no tittle in the old editions; and in both the latter, they are so deficient and faulty throughout, that it would not be much

amiss if we look'd upon them as wanting too; and then all these several articles might be consider'd as additions, that needed no other pointing out than a declaration that they are so: The light they throw upon the plays in general, and particularly upon some parts of them,—such as, the battle scenes throughout; Cæsar's passage to the senate-house, and subsequent assassination; Antony's death; the surprizal and death of Cleopatra; that of Titus Andronicus; and a multitude of others, which are all directed new in this edition,—will justify these insertions; and may, possibly, merit the reader's thanks, for the great aids which they afford to his conception.

It remains now to speak of errors of the old copies which are here amended without notice, to wit—the pointing, and wrong division of much of them respecting the numbers. And as to the first, it is so extreamly erroneous, throughout all the plays, and in every old copy, that small regard is due to it; and it becomes an editor's duty, (instead of being influenc'd by such a punctuation, or even casting his eyes upon it) to attend closely to the meaning of what is before him, and to new-point it accordingly: Was it the business of this edition —to make parade of discoveries, this article alone would have afforded ample field for it; for a very great number of passages are now first set to rights by this

only, which, before, had either no sense at all, or one unsuiting the context, and unworthy the noble penner of it: but all the emendations of this sort, though inferior in merit to no others whatsoever, are consign'd to silence; some few only excepted, of passages that have been much contested, and whose present adjustment might possibly be call'd in question again; these will be spoken of in some note, and a reason given for embracing them: All the other parts of the work have been examin'd with equal diligence, and equal attention; and the editor flatters himself, that the punctuation he has follow'd, (into which he has admitted some novelties^{12 note}

this article,—However he may be censur'd, as rash or ill-judging, the editor ventures to declare—that he himself wanted not the conviction of the foregoing argument to be satisfy'd who the play belongs to; for though a work of imitation, and conforming itself to models truly execrable throughout, yet the genius of it's Author breaks forth in some places, and, to the editor's eye, Shakespeare stands confess'd: the third act in particular may be read with admiration even by the most delicate; who, if they are not without feelings, may chance to find themselves touch'd by it with such passions as tragedy should excite, that is—terror, and pity. The reader will please to observe—that all these contested plays are in the folio, which is dedicated to the Poet's patrons and friends, the earls of Pembroke and Montgomery, by editors who are seemingly honest men, and profess themselves dependant upon those noblemen; to whom therefore they would hardly have had the confidence to present forgeries, and pieces supposititious; in which too they were liable to be detected by those identical noble persons themselves, as well as by a very great part of their other readers and auditors: which argument, though of no little strength in itself, we omitted to bring before, as having better (as we thought) and more forcible to offer; but it had behov'd those gentlemen who

have question'd the plays to have got rid of it in the first instance, as it lies full in their way in the very entrance upon this dispute.

We shall close this part of the Introduction with some observations, that were reserv'd for this place, upon that paragraph of the player editors' preface which is quoted at p. 5; and then taking this further liberty with the reader,—to call back his attention to some particulars that concern the present edition, dismiss him, to be entertain'd (as we hope) by a sort of appendix, consisting of those notes that have been mention'd, in which the true and undoubted originals of almost all the Poet's fables are clearly pointed out. But first of the preface. Besides the authenticity of all the several pieces that make up this collection, and their care in publishing them, both solemnly affirm'd in the paragraph refer'd to, we there find these honest editors acknowledging in terms equally solemn the Author's right in his copies, and lamenting that he had not exercis'd that right by a publication of them during his life-time; and from the manner in which they express themselves, we are strongly inclin'd to think—that he had really form'd such a design, but towards his last days, and too late to put it in execution: a collection of Jonson's was at that instant in the press, and upon the point of coming forth; which

might probably inspire such a thought into him and his companions, and produce conferences between them— about a similar publication from him, and the pieces that should compose it, which the Poet might make a list of. It is true, this is only a supposition; but a supposition arising naturally, as we think, from the incident that has been mention'd, and the expressions of his fellow players and editors: and, if suffer'd to pass for truth, here is a good and sound reason for the exclusion of all those other plays that have been attributed to him upon some grounds or other;—he himself has proscrib'd them; and we cannot forbear hoping, that they will in no future time rise up against him, and be thrust into his works: A disavowal of weak and idle pieces, the productions of green years, wantonness, or inattention, is a right that all authors are vested with; and should be exerted by all, if their reputations are dear to them; had Jonson us'd it, his character had stood higher than it does: But, after all, they who have pay'd attention to this truth are not always secure; the indiscreet zeal of an admirer, or avarice of a publisher, has frequently added things that dishonour them; and where realities have been wanting, forgeries supply the place; thus has Homer his “Hymns,” and the poor Mantuan his “Ciris” and his “Culex.” Noble and great

authors demand all our veneration: where their wills can be discover'd, they ought sacredly to be comply'd with; and that editor ill discharges his duty, who presumes to load them with things they have renounc'd: It happens but too often, that we have other ways to shew our regard to them; their own great want of care in their copies, and the still greater want of it that is commonly in their impressions, will find sufficient exercise for any one's friendship, who may wish to see their works set forth in that perfection which was intended by the author. And this friendship we have endeavour'd to shew to Shakespeare in the present edition: The plan of it has been lay'd before the reader; upon whom it rests to judge finally of it's goodness, as well as how it is executed: but as several matters have interven'd, that may have driven it from his memory; and we are desirous above all things to leave a strong impression upon him of one merit which it may certainly pretend to, that is—it's fidelity; we shall take leave to remind him, at parting, that—Throughout all this work, what is added without the authority of some ancient edition, is printed in a black letter: what alter'd, and what thrown out, constantly taken notice of; some few times in a note, where the matter was long, or of a complex nature;^{16 note} but, more generally, at the bottom of the page; where what is put out of the text, how minute and insignificant soever, is always to be met with; what alter'd,

as constantly set down, and in the proper words of that edition upon which the alteration is form'd: And, even in authoriz'd readings, whoever is desirous of knowing further, what edition is follow'd preferably to the others, may be gratify'd too in that, by consulting the Various Readings; which are now finish'd; and will be publish'd, together with the Notes, in some other volumes, with all the speed that is convenient.

Such are the materials, out of which this great Poet has rais'd a structure, which no time shall efface, nor any envy be strong enough to lessen the admiration that is so justly due to it; which if it was great before, cannot fail to receive encrease with the judicious, when the account that has been now given them is reflected upon duly: other originals have, indeed, been pretended; and much extraordinary criticism has, at different times, and by different people, been spun out of those conceits; but, except some few articles in which the writer professes openly his ignorance of the sources they are drawn from, and some others in which he delivers himself doubtfully, what is said in the preceding leaves concerning these fables may with all certainty be rely'd upon.

How much is it to be wish'd, that something equally certain, and indeed worthy to be intitl'd—a Life of Shakespeare, could accompany this relation, and compleat the tale of those pieces which the publick is apt

to expect before new editions? But that nothing of this for is at present in being, may be said without breach of candour, as we think, or suspicion of over much niceness: an imperfect and loose account of his father, and family; his own marriage, and the issue of it; some traditional stories,—many of them triffling in themselves, supported by small authority, and seemingly ill-grounded; together with his life's final period as gather'd from his monument, is the full and whole amount of historical matter that is in any of these writings; in which the critick and essayist swallow up the biographer, who yet ought to take the lead in them. The truth is, the occurrences of this most interesting life (we mean, the private ones) are irrecoverably lost to us; the friendly office of registring them was overlook'd by those who alone had it in their power, and our enquiries about them now must prove vain and thrown away. But there is another sort of them that is not quite so hopeless; which besides affording us the prospect of some good issue to our endeavours, do also invite us to them by the promise of a much better reward for them: the knowledge of his private life had done little more than gratify our curiosity, but his publick one as a writer would have consequences more important; a discovery there would throw a new light upon many of his pieces; and, where rashness only is shew'd in the opinions that are now current about them, a judgment might then be form'd, which perhaps would do credit to the giver of it. When he commenc'd a writer for the stage, and in which play; what the order of the rest of them, and (if that be discoverable) what the occasion; and, lastly, for which of the numerous theatres that were then subsisting they

were severally written at first,—are the particulars that should chiefly engage the attention of a writer of Shakespeare's Life, and be the principal subjects of his enquiry: To assist him in which, the first impressions of these plays will do something, and their title-pages at large, which, upon that account, we mean to give in another work that will accompany the “School of Shakespeare;” and something the “School” itself will afford, that may contribute to the same service: but the cornerstone of all, must be—the works of the Poet himself, from which much may be extracted by a heedful peruser of them; and, for the sake of such a peruser, and by way of putting him into the train when the plays are before him, we shall instance in one of them;—the time in which “Henry V” was written, is determin'd almost precisely by a passage in the chorus to the fifth act, and the concluding chorus of it contains matter relative to “Henry VI:” other plays might be mention'd, as “Henry VIII and Macbeth;” but this one may be sufficient to answer our intention in producing it, which was—to spirit some one up to this task in some future time, by shewing the possibility of it; which he may be further convinc'd of, if he reflects what great things have been done, by criticks amongst ourselves, upon subjects of this sort, and of a more remov'd antiquity than he is concern'd in. A Life thus constructed, interspers'd with such anecdotes of common notoriety as the writer's judgment shall tell him—are worth regard; together with some memorials of this Poet that are happily come down to us; such as, an Instrument in the Heralds' Office, confirming arms to his father; a Patent, preserv'd in Rymer, granted by James the first;

his last Will and Testament, extant now at Doctors-Commons; his Stratford Monument, and a monument of his daughter which is said to be there also;—such a Life would rise quickly into a volume; especially, with the addition of one proper and even necessary episode— a brief history of our Drama, from it's origin down to the Poet's death: even the stage he appear'd upon, it's form, dressings, actors should be enquir'd into, as every one of those circumstances had some considerable effect upon what he compos'd for it: The subject is certainly a good one, and will fall (we hope) ere it be long into the hands of some good writer; by whose abilities this great want may at length be made up to us, and the world of letters enrich'd by the happy acquisition of a masterly “Life of Shakespeare.”

Upon the Effigies of my worthy Friend, the Author Master William Shakespeare, and his Works [secondary verse]

Upon the Effigies of my worthy Friend, the Author Master William Shakespeare, and his Works.
Spectator, this life's shadow is;—to see
The 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 Shakespeare to the life thou dost behold. To the Reader [secondary verse]

To the Reader.
This figure, that thou here see'st put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut;
Wherein the graver had a strife
With nature, to out-do the life:
O, could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he hath hit
His face; the print would then surpass
All, that was ever writ in brass:
But, since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book. B. J.

To the Memory of my beloved, the Author Mr. William Shakespeare, and what he hath left us [secondary verse]

To the Memory of my beloved, the Author Mr. William Shakespeare, and what he hath left 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 more?
But thou art proof against them; and, indeed,
Above the 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 Spencer; or bid Beaumont lye
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 Lilly outshine,
Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow's mighty line.
And though thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek,—
From thence to honour thee, I would not seek
For names; but call forth thundring Æschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles, to us,
Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead;
To live 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.
He 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 vouchsafe no other wit:
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;
But antiquated and deserted lye,
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 a second beat

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
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 night,
And despairs day, but by thy volume's light! Ben. Jonson. Upon the Lines, and Life, of the famous scenick Poet, master William Shakespeare [secondary verse]

Upon the Lines, and Life, of the famous scenick Poet, master William Shakespeare.
  Those hands, which you so clapt, go now and wring,
You Britains 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:
  Dry'd is that vein, dry'd is the Thespian spring,
Turn'd all to tears, and Phœbus clouds his rays;

That corpse, that coffin, now bestick those bays,
  Which crown'd him poet first, then poets' 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 publick tyring-house) the Nuntius is:
  For, though his line of life went soon about,
  The life yet of his lines shall never out. Hugh Holland. To the Memory of the deceased Author, Master W. Shakespeare [secondary verse]

To the Memory of the deceased Author, Master W. Shakespeare.
Shakespeare, 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 Shakespeare's, every line, each verse,
Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy herse.
Nor fire, nor cank'ring age,—as Naso said
Of his,—thy wit-fraught book shall once invade:
Nor shall I e'er believe or think thee dead,
Though mist, until our bankrout stage be sped
(Impossible) with some new strain to out-do
Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo;
Or 'till I hear a scene more nobly take,
Than when thy half-sword parlying Romans spake:

'Till these, 'till any of thy volume's rest,
Shall with more fire more feeling be express'd,
Be sure, our Shakespeare, thou canst never die,
But, crown'd with laurel, live eternally. L. Digges. To the Memory of Master W. Shakespeare [secondary verse]

To the Memory of Master W. Shakespeare.
We wonder'd, Shakespeare, that thou went'st so soon
From the world's stage to the grave's tyring-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. J. M. On worthy Master Shakespeare, and his Poems [secondary verse]

On worthy Master Shakespeare, and his Poems.

A mind reflecting ages past, whose clear
And equal surface can make things appear,
Distant a thousand years, and represent
Them in their lively colours, just extent:
To outrun hasty time, retrieve the fates,
Rowl back the heavens, blow ope the iron gates
Of death and Lethe, where confused lye
Great heaps of ruinous mortality:
In that deep dusky dungeon, to discern
A royal ghost from churls; by art to learn
The physiognomy of shades, and give

Them sudden birth, wond'ring how oft they live;
What story coldly tells, what poets feign
At second hand, and picture without brain,
Senseless and soul-less shews: To give a stage,—
Ample, and true with life,—voice, action, age,
As Plato's year, and new scene of the world,
Them unto us, or us to them had hurl'd:
To raise our ancient sovereigns from their herse,
Make kings his subjects; by exchanging verse
Enlive their pale trunks, that the present age
Joys in their joy and trembles at their rage:
Yet so to temper passion, that our ears
Take pleasure in their pain, and eyes in tears
Both smile and weep; fearful at plots so sad,
Then laughing at our fear; abus'd, and glad
To be abus'd; affected with that truth
Which we perceive is false, pleas'd in that ruth
At which we start, and, by elaborate play,
Tortur'd and tickl'd; by a crab-like way
Time past made pastime, and in ugly sort
Disgorging up his ravin for our sport:—
—While the plebeian imp, from lofty throne,
Creates and rules a world, and works upon
Mankind by secret engines; now to move
A chilling pity, then a rigorous love;
To strike up and stroak down, both joy and ire;
To steer the affections; and by heavenly fire
Mold us anew, stoln from ourselves:—

This,—and much more, which cannot be express'd
But by himself, his tongue, and his own breast,—
Was Shakespeare's freehold; which his cunning brain
Improv'd, by favour of the nine-fold train;—

The buskin'd muse, the comick queen, the grand
And louder tone of Clio, nimble hand
And nimbler foot of the melodious pair,
The silver-voiced lady, the most fair
Calliope, she whose speaking silence daunts,
And she whose praise the heavenly body chants.

These jointly woo'd him, envying one another;—
Obey'd by all as spouse, but lov'd as brother;—
And wrought a curious robe, of sable grave,
Fresh green, and pleasant yellow, red most brave,
And constant blue, rich purple, guiltless white,
The lowly russet, and the scarlet bright:
Branch'd and embroider'd like the painted spring;
Each leaf match'd with a flower, and each string
Of golden wire, each line of silk: there run
Italian works, whose thread the sisters spun;
And there did sing, or seem to sing, the choice
Birds of a foreign note and various voice:
Here hangs a mossy rock; there plays a fair
But chiding fountain, purled: not the air,
Nor clouds, nor thunder, but were living drawn;
Not out of common tiffany or lawn,
But fine materials, which the Muses know,
And only know the countries where they grow.

Now, when they could no longer him enjoy,
In mortal garments pent,—Death may destroy,
They say, his body; but his verse shall live,
And more than nature takes our hands shall give:
In a less volume, but more strongly bound,
Shakespeare shall breath and speak; with laurel crown'd,
Which never fades; fed with ambrosial meat;
In a well-lined vesture, rich, and neat:—

So with this robe they cloath him, bid him wear it;
For time shall never stain, nor envy tear it. The friendly Admirer of his Endowments, J. M. S. An Epitaph on the admirable dramatick Poet, W. Shakespeare [secondary verse]

An Epitaph on the admirable dramatick Poet, W. Shakespeare.
What needs, my Shakespeare, for his honour'd bones,
The labour of an age in piled stones;
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
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 unvalu'd book,
Those Delphick lines with deep impression took;
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And, so sepulcher'd, in such pomp dost lye,
That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die. ^note

TABLE of quarto Editions of Plays written by SHAKESPEARE.

I. Hamlet. 1605. J. R. for N. L. (best Edit.) 2. 1611. for John Smethwicke. 3. no date. W. S. for D^o. (ADD.) 4. 1637. R. Young for D^o.

II. Henry IV, 1st. p. 1598. P. S. for Andrew Wise. (best Edit. ADD.) 2. 1599. S. S. for D^o. 3. 1604. (DES.) 4. 1608. for Mathew Law. (DES.) 5. 1613. W. W. for D^o. (ADD.) 6. 1622. T. P. Sold by D^o 7. 1632. John Norton. Sold by William Sheares. (ADD.) 8. 1639. John Norton. Sold by Hugh Perry.

III. Henry IV, 2d. p. 1600. V. S. for Andrew Wise, and William Aspley. 2. 1600. D^o. (DES.) v. A. ^note

IV. Henry V. [1600. Thomas Creede, for Tho. Millington, and John Busby. 2. 1602. Thomas Creede, for Thomas Pavier. (ADD.) 3. 1608. for T. P.]

V & VI. Henry VI. [1600. Valentine Simmes for Thomas Millington. (ADD. & IMP.) 2. 1600. W. W. for Tho. Millington. (*DES.) 3. no date. for T. P.] v. B. ^note

VII. King John. [1591. for Sampson Clarke. b. l. 2. 1611. Valentine Simmes for John Helme. 3. 1622. Aug: Mathewes for Thomas Dewe.] v. C. ^note

VIII. King Lear. 1608. for Nathaniel Butter. (best Edit.) 2. 1608. for D^o. (ADD. v. D. ^note) 3. 1655. Jane Bell.

IX. Love's Labour's lost. 1598. W. W. for Cutbert Burby. (best Edit.) 2. 1631. W. S. for John Smethwicke.

X. Merchant of Venice. 1600. J. R. for Thomas Heyes. (best Edit.) 2. 1600. J. Roberts. 3. 1637. M. P. for Laurence Hayes. 4. 1652. for William Leake. (ADD.)

XI. Merry Wives of Windsor. [1602. T. C. for Arthur Johnson. 2. 1619. for D^o.] 3. 1630. T. H. for R. Meighen. (a & s.)

XII. Midsummer Night's Dream. 1600. for Thomas Fisher. (best Edit.) 2. 1600. James Roberts.

XIII. Much Ado about Nothing. 1600. V. S. for Andrew Wise, and William Aspley. (best Edit.)

XIV. Othello. 1622. N. O. for Thomas Walkley. (a.) 2. no date. (Preface by Tho. Walkely. *DES.) 3. 1630. A. M. for Richard Hawkins. (a) 4. 1655. for William Leak. (ADD. a.)

XV. Richard II. 1597. Valentine Simmes for Androw Wise. (best Edit. ADD.) 2. 1598. Valentine Simmes for D^o. 3. 1608. W. W. for Mathew Law. (DES.) 4. 1615. for D^o. 5. 1634. John Norton. (a & s.)

XVI. Richard III. 1597. Valentine Sims, for Andrew Wise. (*DES.) 2. 1598. Thomas Creede, for D^o. 3. 1602. D^o. 4. 1612. Thomas Creede. Sold by Mathew Lawe. 5. 1622. Thomas Purfoot. Sold by D^o. 6. 1629. John Norton. Sold by D^o. 7. 1634. John Norton.

XVII. Romeo and Juliet. [1597. John Danter.] 2. 1599. Thomas Creede, for Cuthbert Burby. (DES.) 3. 1609. for John Smethwick. (best Edit. ADD.) 4. no date. for John Smethwicke. (ADD.) 5. 1637. R. Young for D^o.

XVIII. Taming of the Shrew. [1607 V. S. for Nich. Ling. *DES.] 2. 1631. W. S. for John Smethwicke.

XIX. Titus Andronicus. 1611. for Eedward White. (best Edit.)

XX. Troilus and Cressida. 1609. G. Eld for R. Bonian and H. Whalley. (best

Edit.) 2. no date. G. Eld for D^o. (*DES.)

NOTES. n. b.] ADD. signifies—additions, or copies added by the compiler; (v. “Introduction,” p. 20.) IMP.—imperfect; and DES.—desideratum, or wanting in his collection; and a star before DES. implies —never seen by him: the notices of these are from the tables of former editors.

D^o, of Plays ascrib'd to him.

I. Arraignment of Paris. O. C. 1584. Henrie Marsh. (a & s.)

II. Birth of Merlin.** 1662. Tho. Johnson for Francis Kirkman, and Henry Marsh. (a.)

III. Edward III. O. C. 1596. for Cuthbert Burby. 2 1599. Simon Stafford, for D^o.

IV. Fair Em. † 1631. for John Wright.

V. Locrine.* 1595. Thomas Creede. (a & s)

VI. London Prodigal.* 1605. T. C. for Nathaniel Butter.

VII. Merry Devil of Edmonton. &dagger2; 1608. Henry Ballard for Arthur Johnson. 2. 1617. G. Eld for D^o. 3. 1626. A. M. for Francis Falkner. 4. 1631. T. P. for D^o. 5. 1655. for William Gilbertson.

VIII. Mucedorus. &dagger2; 1598. for William Jones. (DES.) 2. 1610. for D^o. 3. 1615. N. O. for D^o. (DES.) 4 1639. for John Wright. 5. no date. for Francis Coles. 6. 1668. E. O. for D^o.

IX. Pericles.* 1609. for

Henry Gosson. 2. 1619. for T. P. 3. 1630. J. N. for R. B. 4. 1635. Thomas Cotes.

X. Puritan.* 1607. G. Eld. (a.)

XI. Sir John Oldcastle.* 1600. for T. P.

XII. Thomas lord Cromwel.* 1613. Thomas Snodham.

XIII. Two noble Kinsmen** 1634. Tho. Cotes, for John Waterson. (a & s.)

XIV. Yorkshire Tragedy.* 1619. for T. P.

NOTE. The two plays, mark'd with double asterisks, are said in the title-page to have been written, the first by Shakespeare and Rowley, the other by Fletcher and Shakespeare: and the seven, with single asterisks, are publish'd with his other plays in a folio edition printed in 1664, and in some editions since. O. C. signifies, old catalogues; in some of which, these two plays are ascrib'd to Shakespeare: and the remaining three, distinguish'd by crosses, are in a volume, now in Mr. Garrick's possession, that did belong to king Charles the first, which is titl'd upon the back, “Shakespear Vol. I:” and these likewise are given to him by old catalogues, “Fair Em” excepted, which is therefore differenc'd by having but one cross-bar. It may be just observ'd too, that, to the plays mark'd—O. C. and with crosses, there is no name of author, either in the title-page, or other part: of the double asterisks, see the account above; and, for the single ones, in the title-pages of “Locrine, Puritan, and Thomas lord Cromwel,” are the initial letters, W. S, and, in the others, the name at length.

Folio Editions.

I. Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies. Published according to the True Originall Copies. 1623. fol. Isaac Jaggard, and Ed. Blount.

II. D^o, 1632, fol. Tho. Cotes, for Robert Allot.

III. D^o, 1664, fol. for P. C.

IV. D^o, 1685, fol. for H. Herringman, E. Brewster, and R. Bentley.

Editions of his Poems.

I. Shakespeare's Poems. 1609. quarto. (*DES.)

II. D^o, no date, octavo. for Bernard Lintott. (v. Note. ^note )

III. D^o, 1640, octavo. Tho. Cotes. Sold by John Benson.

IV. Passionate Pilgrim, poems by D^o. 1599, octavo, small. for W. Jaggard. Sold by W. Leake.

V. Rape of Lucrece, a poem. 1594, quarto. Richard Field, for John Harrison. (DES.)

VI. D^o, 1598, octavo. P. S. for D^o.

VII. D^o, 1607, octavo. N. O. for D^o.

VIII. Venus and Adonis, a poem. 1620, octavo. for J. P.

Title page The WORKS of SHAKESPEARE, Volume the first: containing, The Tempest; The two Gentlemen of Verona; The merry Wives of Windsor. LONDON: Printed for J. and R. Tonson in the Strand.

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