to have looked for any fame; indeed, he seems neither to have been concerned in their publication, nor to have bestowed the least care in the revision of the text. His name was even affixed during his lifetime to several plays which his friends and fellow actors saw fit to exclude from the first collected edition printed by them in 1623. Of his sonnets, written, many of them, before 1598, though not printed until 1609, the dedication to "their only begetter," Mr. W. H., initials which have as yet never been deciphered, was signed, not by the author, but by the publisher, Thomas Thorpe. Aubrey was informed that Shakespeare "did act exceedingly well." But he certainly did not hold amongst actors the prominent place which he occupied amongst authors. In his own plays, he is said to have sustained the parts of the Ghost in "Hamlet," and Adam in " As You Like It;" he likewise acted in Ben Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour;" and his last recorded appearance on the stage was in that author's " Sejanus." His person and manners are thus briefly described by Aubrey. "He was a handsome, well-shaped man, very good company, and of a ready, and pleasant, and smooth wit." He died at Stratford on the 23rd April, 1616, aged 53 years. By his widow, who survived him till 1623, he had three children: Susanna, married to Dr. Hall, a physician of some eminence; Hamnet, who died aged eleven in 1596; and Judith, the wife of Thomas Quiney, a wine merchant at Stratford. Elizabeth, daughter of Dr. Hall and widow of Sir John Bernard, who died at Abingdon in 1670, was the last lineal descendant of Shakespeare. -The poet was buried on the north side of the chancel of the great church of Stratford. Within seven years of his death a monument was erected there to his memory, containing his bust, and inscribed with these verses : Stay, Passenger, why goest thov by so fast? Read, if thov canst, whom enviovs Death hath plast Obiit ano Doi. 1616. The house of New Place passed to the Poet's daughter, Mrs. Hall; and while in the possession of her daughter, was for three weeks the residence of Queen Henrietta Maria in 1643. It afterwards reverted to the Cloptons, descendants of Sir Hugh, and at last fell into the hands of the Rev. Francis Gastrell, vicar of Frodsham, in Cheshire. Quarrelling with the magistrates of Stratford in 1756, this divine immortalized himself by razing the building to the ground, having previously cut down a mulberry tree in the garden, planted, according to the tradition, by the hand of Shakespeare. To the most Noble and Incomparable Paire of Brethren. William Earle of Pembroke, &c. Lord Chamberlaine to the Kings most Excellent Maiesty. And Philip Earle of Montgomery, &c. Gentleman of his Maiesties Bed-Chamber. Both Knights of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and our singular good Lords. Right Honourable, ask'd to be yours. We have but collected them, and done an office to the dead, to procure his Orphanes, Guardians; without ambition either of selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a Friend, and Fellow aliue, as was our SHAKESPEARE, by humble offer of his playes, to your most noble patronage. Wherein, as we haue iustly obserued, no man to come neere your L. L. but with a Whilst we studie to be thankful in our kind of religious addresse; it hath bin particular, for the many fauors we haue the height of our care, who are the Prereceiued from your L. L we are falne vpon senters, to make the present worthy of the ill fortune, to mingle two the most your H. H. by the perfection. But, there diuerse things that can bee, feare, and we must also craue our abilities to be conrashnesse; rashnesse in the enterprize, and sidered, my Lords. We cannot go beyond feare of the successe. For, when we valew our owre powers. Country hands reach the places your H. H. sustaine, we cannot foorth milke, creame, fruites, or what they but know their dignity greater, then to haue: and many Nations, (we haue heard) descend to the reading of these trifles: that had not gummes and incense, oband, while we name them trifles, we haue tained their requests with a leauened Cake. depriu'd our selues of the defence of our It was no fault to approch their Gods, by Dedication. But since your L. L. have what meanes they could: And the most, beene pleas'd to thinke these trifles some- though meanest, of things are made more thing, heeretofore; and have prosequuted precious, when they are dedicated to both them, and their Author liuing, with Temples. In that name therefore, we most so much fauour: we hope, that (they out- humbly consecrate to your H.H. these liuing him, and he not having the fate, remaines of your seruant SHAKESPEARE, common to some, to be exequutor to his owne writings) you will vse the like in dulgence toward them, you have done vnto their parent. There is a great difference, that what delight is in them, may be euer your L. L. the reputation his, & the faults ours, if any be committed, by a payre so carefull to shew their gratitude both to the liuing, and the dead, as Patrones, whether booke choose his is Your Lordshippes most bounden, JOHN HEMINGE. HENRY CONDELL. 1 the Folio of 1623. FROM the most able, to him that can care, and paine, to have collected and but spell: There you are number'd. We publish'd them; and so to haue publish'd had rather you were weighd. Especially, when the fate of all Bookes depends vpon your capacities: and not of your heads alone, but of your purses. Well! It is now publique, and you wil stand for your priviledges wee know: to read, and censure. Do so, but buy it first. That doth best commend a Booke, the Stationer saies. Then, how odde soeuer your braines be, or your wisedomes, make your licence the same, and spare not. Iudge your sixepen'orth, your shillings worth, your fiue shillings worth at a time, or higher, so as you rise to the iust rates, and welcome. But, whatever you do, Buy. Censure will not driue a Trade, or make the lacke go. And though you be a Magistrate of wit, and sit on the Stage at Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne Playes dailie, know, these Playes haue had their triall alreadie, and stood out all Appeales; and do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of Court, then any purchas'd Letters of commendation. It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to haue bene wished, that the Author himselfe had liu'd to haue set forth, and ouerseen his owne writings; But since it hath bin ordain'd otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you doe not envie his Friends, the office of their them, as where (before) you were abus'd with divers stolne, and surreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of iniurious impostors, that expos'd them: even those, are now offer'd to your view cur'd, and perfect of their limbes; and all the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he conceiued the: Who, as he was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it. His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he vttered with that easinesse, that wee haue scarse receiued from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our prouince, who onely gather his works, and give them you, to praise him. It is yours that reade him. And there we hope, to your diuers capacities, you will finde enough, both to draw, and hold you: for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could be lost. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe: And if then you doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to vnderstand him. And so we leaue you to other of his Friends, whom if you need, can bee your guides: if you neede them not, you can leade your selues, and others. And such Readers we wish him. JOHN HEMINGE. HENRIE CONDELL. To the Memory of the deceased Author, Master William Shakespeare. SHAKE-SPEARE, at length thy pious fellows give Shall loath what's new, think all is prodigy L. DIGGES. 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, Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise: But thou art proof against them; and, indeed, From thence to honour thee, I would not seek And shake a stage: or, when thy socks were on, Or influence, chide, or cheer, the drooping stage; 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, Of Shakespeare's mind, and manners, brightly shines In his well-torned and true-filed lines; That so did take Eliza, and our James! Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like night, And despairs day, but for thy volume's light! Ben Ionson. |