THE

PREFACE

O F THE

PLAYER S.

To the great Variety of REAders.

ROM the most able, to him that can but spell:

FRO

There you are number'd, we had rather you were weigh'd. Efpecially, when the fate of all bookes depends upon your capacities: and not of your heads alone, but of your purses. Well, it is now publike, and you will stand for your priviledges, we know: to reade, and cenfure. Doe fo, but buy it first. That doth beft commend a booke, the ftationer fayes. Then, how odde foever your braines be, or your wifdomes, make your licence the fame, and fpare not. Judge your fixe-penny'orth, your fhillings worth, your five fhillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rife to the juft rates, and welcome. But whatever you doe, buy. Cenfure will not drive a trade, or make the jacke goe. And though you be a magiftrate of wit, and fit on the ftage at BlackFryers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne playes dayly, know, these playes have had their triall already, and stood out all appeales; and doe now come forth quitted rather by a decree of court, than any purchased letters of commendation.

It had been a thing, we confeffe, worthy to have been wished, that the author himselfe had liv'd to have set forth, and everfeene his owne writings. But fince it hath been or

dain'd otherwife, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envy his friends the office of their care, and paine, to have collected and publish'd them; and so to have publisht them, as where (before) you were abus'd with divers ftolne, and furreptitious copies, maimed and deformed by the frauds and stealths of injurious impoftors, that expos'd them even those, are now offer'd to your view cured, and perfect of their limbes; and all the reft, absolute in their numbers as he conceived them. Who, as he was a happy imitator of nature, was a moft gentle expresser of it. His minde and hand went together: and what he thought he uttered with that eafineffe, that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our province, who onely gather his workes, and give them you, to praise him. It is yours that reade him. And there we hope, to your divers capacities, you will finde enough, both to draw and hold you: for his wit can no more lie hid, than it could be loft. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe and if then you doe not like him, surely you are in fome manifeft danger, not to understand him. And so we leave you to other of his friends, who, if you need, can be your guides: if you neede them not, you can leade yourfelves, and others. And fuch readers we wish him.

JOHN HEMINGE.

HENRY CONDELL.

PREFACE.

T is not my design to enter into a criticism upon this au

Ithor; thought to do it effectually and not fuperficially,

would be the best occafion that any juft writer could take, to form the judgment and taste of our nation. For of all English poets Shakespeare must be confeffed to be the fairest and fulleft fubject for criticism, and to afford the most numerous, as well as most confpicuous inftances, both of beauties and faults of all forts. But this far exceeds the bounds of a preface, the bufinefs of which is only to give an account of the fate of his works, and the disadvantages under which they have been tranfmitted to us. We shall hereby extenuate many faults which are his, and clear him from the imputation of many which are not: a defign, which though it can be no guide to future criticks to do him juftice in one way, will at least be fufficient to prevent their doing him an injustice in the other.

I cannot however but mention fome of his principal and characteristic excellencies, for which (notwithstanding his defects) he is juftly and univerfally elevated above all other dramatick writers. Not that this is the proper place of praifing him, but because I would not omit any occafion of doing it.

If ever any author deserved the name of an Original, it was Shakespeare. Homer himself drew not his art fo immediately from the fountains of nature, it proceeded through Ægyptian ftrainers and channels, and came to him not

without fome tincture of the learning, or fome caft of the models, of those before him. The poetry of Shakespeare was infpiration indeed : he is not so much an imitator as an inftrument of nature; and 'tis not so just to say that he speaks from her, as that she speaks through him.

His characters are so much nature herself, that 'tis a fort of injury to call them by so distant a name as copies of her. Those of other poets have a conftant resemblance, which fhews that they received them from one another, and were but multipliers of the fame image: each picture, like a mock rainbow, is but the reflexion of a reflexion. But every fingle character in Shakespeare is as much an individual, as those in life itself; it is as impoffible to find any two alike; and fuch as from their relation or affinity in any respect appear most to be twins, will upon comparison be found remarkably distinct. To this life and variety of character, we must add the wonderful preservation of it; which is fuch throughout his plays, that had all the speeches been printed without the very names of the perfons, I believe one might have applied them with certainty to every fpeaker.

The power over our paffions was never poffeffed in a more eminent degree, or difplay'd in fo different inftances. Yet all along there is feen no labour, no pains to raise them; no preparation to guide our guess to the effect, or be perceived to lead toward it: but the heart fwells, and the tears burst out, juft at the proper places: we are furpriz'd the moment we weep; and yet upon reflexion find the paffion so just, that we should be furpriz'd if we had not wept, and wept at that very moment.

How astonishing is it again, that the paffions directly oppofite to thefe, laughter and fpleen, are no lefs at his com

mand! that he is not more a mafter of the great than of the ridiculous in human nature; of our nobleft tendernesses, than of our vainest foibles; of our strongest emotions, than of our idleft fenfations!

Nor does he only excel in the paffions in the coolness of reflexion and reasoning he is full as admirable. His fentiments are not only in general the most pertinent and judicious upon every subject, but by a talent very peculiar, fomething between penetration and felicity, he hits upon that particular point on which the bent of each argument turns, or the force of each motive depends. This is perfectly amazing, from a man of no education or experience in those great and publick scenes of life which are usually the fubject of his thoughts: fo that he seems to have known the world by intuition, to have look'd through human nature at one glance, and to be the only author that gives ground for a new opinion, That the philosopher, and even the man of the world, may be born, as well as the poet.

It must be own'd that with all these great excellencies, he has almost as great defects; and that as he has certainly written better, so he has perhaps written worse, than any other. But I think I can in some measure account for thefe defects, from feveral causes and accidents; without which it is hard to imagine that so large and fo enlighten'd a mind could ever have been fufceptible of them. That all these contingencies fhould unite to his disadvantage, seems to me almost as fingularly unlucky, as that so many various (nay contrary) talents fhould meet in one man, was happy and extraordinary.

It must be allowed that ftage-poetry, of all other, is more particularly levell'd to please the populace, and its fuccefs more immediately depending upon the common fuffrage. One