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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 comic vein,
Laugh; and proceed next to a tragic strain,
Then weep: 80,—when thou find'st two contraries,
Two different passions from thy wrapt soul rise, -
Say, (who alone effect such wonders could)
Rare Shake-speare to the life thou dost behold.

Nor shall I e'er believe or think thee dead,
(Though miss'd) until our bankrupt stage be sped
(Impossible) with some new strain t' out-do
Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo;
Or till I hear a scene more nobly take,
Than when thy half-sword parleying Romans spake :.
Till these, till any of thy volume's rest,
Shall with more fire, more feeling, be express’d,
Be sure, (our Shake-speare,) thou canst never die,
But, crown'd with laurel, live eternally.



An Epitaph on the admirable Dramatic Poet, W. Shake

What need 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 dull witness of thy name?
Thou, in our wonder and astonishment,
Hast built thyself a lasting monument:
For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easy numbers flow; and that each part
Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book,
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ;
Then thou, our fancy of herself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

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

I. M.S

To the Memory of the deceased Author, Master W. Shake

Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellows give
The world thy works; thy works, by which outlive
Thy tomb thy name must: when that stone is rent,
And time dissolves thy Stratford monument,
Here we alive shall view thee still: this book,
When brass and marble fade, shall make thee look
Fresh to all ages; when posterity
Shall loathe what's new, think all is prodigy
That is not Shakespeare's, every line, each verse,
Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy hearse.
Nor fire, nor cankering age, as Naso said
Of his, thy wit-fraught book shall once invade :

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;
'T is 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 th’ill fortune of them, or the need.
I, therefore, will begin :-Soul of the age,
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser; or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room :

1 An Epitaph on the admirable Dramatio Poet, W. Shakespeare.] These lines, like the preceding, have no name appended to them in the folio, 1632, but the authorship is ascertained by the publication of them as Milton's, in the edition of his Poems in 1645. 8vo. We give them as they stand there, because it is evident that they were then printed from a copy corrected by the author : the variations are interesting, and Malone pointed out only one, and that certainly the least important. Instead of “weak witness" in line 6, the folio 1632 has "dull witness :" instead of "live-long monument,” in line 8, the folio has “lusting monument:" instead of "heart," in line 10, the folio has "part," an evident misprint: and instead of " itself bereaving,” in line 13, the folio has herself bereaving.” The last is the difference mentioned by Malone, who also places " John Milton" at the end, as if the name were found in the folio of 1632.

2 Than when thy half-sword parleying Romans spake :) Leonard Digges prefixed a long copy of verses to the edition of Shakespeare's Poems in 1640, 8vo, in which he makes this passage, referring to "Julius Cæsar,'' more distinct; he also there speaks of the audiences Shakespeare's plays at that time drew, in comparison with Ben. Jonson's. This is the only part of his production worth adding in a note.

" So have I seen, when Cæsar would appear,
And on the stage at half-sword parley were
Brutus and Cassius, o, how the audience
Were ravish'd! with what wonder they went thence!

When, some new day, they would not brook a line
Of tedious, though well-labour'd, Cataline;
Sėjanus too, was irksome: they priz'd more
Honest' Iago, or the jealous Moor.
And though the Fox and subtil Alchymist,
Long intermitted, could not quite be mist,
Though these have sham'd all th' ancients, and might raise
Their author's merit with a crown of bays,
Yet these sometimes, even at a friend's desire,
Acted, have scarce defray'd the sea-coal fire,
And door-keepers: when, let but Falstaff come,
Hal, Poins, the rest,-you scarce shall have a room,
All is so pesterd: let but Beatrice
And Benedick be seen, lo! in a trice
The cock-pit, galleries, boxes, all are full,
To hear Malvolio, that cross-garter'd gull.
Brief, there is nothing in his wit-fraught book,

Whose sound we would not hear, on whose worth look," &c 3 Perhaps the initials of John Marston.

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

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 thée surely with thy peers ;
And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine,
Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe'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 thundering Æschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles, to us,
Pacuvius, Accius, ħim 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
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 lie,
As they were not of Nature's family.
Yet must I not give Nature all; thy art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part:
For though the poet's matter nature be,
His art doth give the fashion ; and that he,
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the muses' anvil ; turn the same,
(And himself with it) that he thinks to frame ;
Or for the laurel he may gain a scorn,
For a good poet's made, as well as born :
And such wert thou. Look, how the father's face
Lives in his issue; even so the race
Of Shakespeare's mind, and manners, brightly shines
In his well-turned 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 Ayon, what a sight it were,
To see thee in our water yet appear;
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
That so did take Eliza, and our James.
But stay; I see thee in the hemisphere
Advanc'd, and made a constellation there:
Shine forth, thou star of poets; and with rage,
Or influence, chide, or cheer, the drooping stage;
Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like

And despairs day, but for thy volume 's light.


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, wondering how oft they live;
What story coldly tells, what poets feign
At second hand, and picture without brain,
Senseless and sonl-less shows: to give a stago
(Ample, and true with life) yoice, 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 hearse,
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 weep and smile ; 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 tickled; 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


and stroke down, both joy and ire; To steer th' affections; and by heavenly fire Mould us anew, stol'n 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,
And louder tone of Clio, nimble hand
And nimbler foot of the melodious pair,
The silver-voiced lady, the most fair
Calliope, whose speaking silence daunts,
And she whose praise the heavenly body chants ;
These jointly woo'd him, euvying 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 foreigo 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 breathe and speak; with laurel

Which never fades ; fed with ambrosian meat,
In a well-lined vesture, rich, and neat.
So with this robe they clothe him, bid him wear it;
For time shall never stain, nor envy tear it.
The friendly admirer of his endowments.

I. M. S.

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,
Roll back the heavens, blow ope the iron gates
Of death and Lethe, where (confused) lie
Great heaps of ruinous mortality :

1 On worthy Master Shakespeare, and his Poems.] These lines are may have been appended to the other copy of verses by him prefixed subscribed 1. M. S. in the folio 1632," probably Jasper Mayne," says to the folio of 1632, in order that his initials should stand at the end Malone. Most probably not, because Mayne has left nothing behind of the present. We know of no other poet of the time capable of him to lead us to suppose that he could have produced this surpassing writing the ensuing lines. We feel morally certain that they are by tribute. 1. M. S. may possibly be Iohn Milton, Student, and no name Milton.

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Upon the Lines, and Life, of the famous Scenic Poet, | The following are Ben Jonson's lines on the Portrait of Master W. Shakespeare.

Shakespeare, precisely as they stand on a separate leaf Those hands which you so clapp'd, go now and wring,

opposite to the title-page of the edition of 1623, and You Britons brave; for done are Shake-speare's days : which are reprinted in the same place, with some trifling His days are done that made the dainty plays,

variation of typography, in the folio of 1632. Which made the Globe of heaven and earth to ring. Dried is that vein, dried is the Thespian spring,

This Figure, that thou here seest put, Turn'd all to tears, and Phæbus clouds his rays;

It was for gentle Shakespeare cut; That corpse, that coffin, now bestick those bays,

Wherein the Graver had a strife Which crown'd him poet first, then poet's king.

With Nature, to out-do the life : If tragedies might any prologue have,

1, could he but have drawn his wit All those he made would scarce make one to this;

As well in brass, as he hath hit Where fame, now that he gone is to the grave,

His face; the Print would then surpass (Death's public tiring-house) the Nuntius is :

All, that was ever writ in brass. For, though his line of life went soon about,

But since he cannot, Reader, look
The life yet of his lines shall never out.

Not at his picture, but his book.

B. I.]


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In order to make the reader acquainted with the origin of which it relates, and of the persons concerned in them. The the English stage, such as Shakespeare found it when he title of the piece, and the year in which the events are supbecame connected with it, it is necessary to mention that a posed to have occurred, are given at the close, where we miracle-play or mystery, (as it has been termed in modern are told that it is “The Play of the Blessed Sacramento,» times), is the oldest form of dramatic composition in our and that the miracle to which it refers was wrought “in language. The stories of productions of this kind were the forest of Arragon, in the famous city of Araclea, in the derived from the Sacred Writings, from the pseudo-evan- year of our Lord God 1461.” There can be no doubt that gelíum, or from the lives and legends of saints and martyrs. the scene of action was imaginary, being fixed merely for

Miracle-plays were common in London in the year 1170; the greater satisfaction of the spectators as to the reality and as early as 1119 the miracle-play of St. Katherine had of the occurrences, and as little that a legend of the kind been represented at Dunstaple. It has been conjectured, was of a much older date than that assigned in the manuand indeed in part established', that some of these perform- script, which was probably near the time when the drama ances were in French, as well as in Latin; and it was not had been represented. until the reign of Edward III. that they were generally In its form it closely resembles the miracle-plays which acted in English. We have three existing series of miracle- had their origin in Scripture-history, and one of the characplays, all of which have been recently printed; the Towne- ters, that of the Saviour, common in productions of that Tey collection by the Surtees Club, and those known as the class, is introduced into it: the rest of the personages Coventry and Chester pageants by the Shakespeare Society. engaged are five Jews, named Jonathas, Jason, Jasdon, The Abbotsford Club has likewise printed, from a manu- Masphat, and Malchus; a Christian merchant called Arisscript at Oxford, three detached miracle-plays which once, torius, a bishop, Sir Isidore a priest, a physician from probably, formed a portion of a connected succession of pro- Brabant called “Mr. Brundyche," and Colle his servant ductions of that class and description.

The plot relates to the purchase of the Eucharist by the During about 300 years this species of theatrical enter- Jews from Aristorius for 1001., under an assurance also tainment seems to have flourished; often. under the auspices that if they find its miraculous powers verified, they will of the clergy, who used it as the means of religious instruc- become converts to Christianity: Aristorius, having postion; but prior to the reign of Henry VI., a new kind of session of the key of the church, enters it secretly, takes drama had become popular, which by writers of the time away the Host, and sells it to the Jews. They put it to was denominated a moral, or moral play, and more recently various tests and torments: they stab “the cake” with a morality. It acquired this name from the nature and their daggers, and it bleeds, while one of the Jews goes purpose of the representation, which usually conveyed a mad at the sight. They next attempt to nail it to a post, Tesson for the better conduct of human life, the characters but the Jew who uses the hammer has his hand torn off employed not being scriptural, as in miracle-plays, but alle- and here the doctor and his servant, Mr. Brundyche and gorical, or symbolical. Miracle-plays continued to be repre- Colle, make their appearance in order to attend the wounded sented long after moral plays were introduced, but from a Jew; but after a long comic scene between the quack and remote date abstract impersonations had by degrees, not his man, highly illustrative of the manners of the time, now easily traced, found their way into miracle-plays: thus, they are driven out as impostors. The Jews then proceed perhaps, moral plays, consisting only of such characters, to boil the Host, but the water turns blood-red, and taking grew out of them.

it out of the cauldron with pincers, they throw it into a A very remarkable and interesting miracle-play, not blazing oven: the oven, after blood has run out “at the founded upon the Sacred Writings, but upon à popular crannies," bursts asunder, and an image of the Saviour legend, and all the characters of which, with one exception, rising, he addresses the Jews, who are as good as their purport to be real personages, has recently been discovered word, for they are converted on the spot. They kneel to in the library of Trinity College, Dublin, in a manuscript the Christian bishop, and Aristorius having confessed his certainly as old as the later part of the reign of Edward crime and declared his repentance, is forgiven after a suitIV. It is perhaps the only specimen of the kind in our able admonition, and a strict charge never again to buy or language ; and as it was unknown to all who have hitherto sell. written on the history of our ancient drama, it will not here This very singular and striking performance is opened, be out of place to give some account of the incidents to as was usual with miracle-plays, by two Vexillators, who

1 See Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poetry and the Stage, vol. ji. p. 131. 4 This name may possibly throw some light on an obscure passage,

2 We are indebted for a correct transcript of the original to the zeal in a letter dated about 1535, and quoted in "The History of Engl. and kindness of Dr. J. H. Todd, V.P., R.S.A.

Dram. Poetry, and the Stage,” I. 131, where a person of the name of 3 In another part of the manuscript it is called "The Play of the Thomas Wylley informs Cromwell, Earl of Essex, that he had written Conversion of Sir Jonathas, the Jew, by the Miracle of the Blessed a play in which a character called " Colle, clogger of Conscience," was Sacrament;" but inferior Jews are converted, besides Sir Jonathas, introduced, to the great offence of the Roman Catholic clergy. who is the head of the tribe in the famous city of Araclea."

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