ADDITIONAL COMMENDATORY VERSES

PREFIXED TO THE FOLIO OF 1632.

Upon the Effigies of my worthy Friend, the Authour, Mafter WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, and his Workes.

Pectator, this Lifes Shaddow is: To fee

Spectat

The truer image and a liuelier he,

Turne reader. But, obferue his comicke vaine,
Laugh, and proceed next to a Tragicke ftraine,
Then weepe: So when thou find ft two contraries,
Two different pafsions from thy rapt foul rife,-
Say, (who alone effect fuch wonders could,)
Rare Shakespeare to the life thou dost behold.

An Epitaph on the admirable Dramaticke Poet, W. SHAKESPEARE.

W Hat neede my Shakespeare, for his honour'd bones,

The labour of an age, in piled ftones,

Or that his hallow'd Reliques fhould be hid

Under a ftarre-ypointing Pyramid?

Dear Son of Memory, great Heire of Fame,

What needft thou fuch dull witnesse of thy Name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Haft built thy felfe a lafting Monument :

For whilst to th' fhame of flow-endevouring Art,
Thy eafie numbers flow, and that each part
Hath, from the leaues of thy vnualued Booke,
Thofe Delphic Lines with deep Impression tooke
Then thou, our fancy of herself bereaving,
Doft make us Marble with too much conceiving;
And, fo Sepulcher'd, in fuch pompe doft lie
That Kings for fuch a Tombe would wish to die.

his Poems.

A Mind reflecting ages past, whose cleere

And equall furface can make things appeare,-
Diftant a Thousand yeares, and represent
Them in their liuely colours, just extent :

To outrun hafty time, retrive the fates,
Rowle backe the heavens, blow ope the iron gates
Of death and Lethe, where (confused) lye
Great heapes of ruinous mortalitie:

In that deepe duskie dungeon to difcerne
A royal Ghost from Churls; By art to learne
The Phyfiognomie of shades, and give

Them fudden birth, wondring how oft they live.
What story coldly tells, what Poets fain
At fecond hand, and picture without braine,
Senfeleffe and foul-leffe showes. To giue a Stage,-
(Ample, and true with life,) voyce, action, age,
As Plato's yeare, and new Scene of the world
Them unto us, or us to them had hurld:

To raise our auncient Soveraigns from their herse,
Make Kings his fubjects, by exchanging verfe
Enlive their pale trunkes, that the present age
Ioys in their joy, and trembles at their rage:
Yet fo to temper passion, that our eares

Take pleasure in their paine; And eyes in teares
Both weepe and fmile; fearfull at plots fo sad,
Then laughing at our feare; abus'd, and glad
To be abuf'd, affected with that truth

Which we perceive is falfe, pleaf'd in that ruth
At which we start; and, by elaborate play,
Tortur'd and tickled; by a crablike way
Time paft made pastime, and in ugly fort
Difgorging up his ravaine for our sport-

-While the Plebeian Impe from lofty throne,
Creates and rules a world, and workes upon
Mankind by fecret engines; Now to move

A chilling pitty, then a rigorous loue

To strike up and stroake downe, both joy and ire;
To fteere th' affections; and by heauenly fire

Mould

Mould us anew, Stolen from ourselues

-This and much more, vhich cannot bee exprest
But by himselfe, his tongue, and his own breft,—
Was Shakespeares freehold, which his cunning braine
Improv'd, by favour of the nine-fold traine.

The bufkind Mufe, the Commicke Queene, the graund
And lowder tone of Clio; nimble hand
And nimbler foote of the melodious paire,
The Silver-voyced Lady; the most faire
Calliope, whofe fpeaking filence daunts,
And the whofe prayfe the heavenly body chaunts.
Thefe joyntly woo'd him, enuying one another
(Obey'd by all as Spouse, but lou'd as brother)
And wrought a curious robe of fable grave
Frefbe greene, and pleafant yellow, red most braue,
And conftant blew, rich purple, guiltlesse white,
The lowly Ruffet, and the Scarlet bright;
Branch't and embroydred like the painted Spring,
Each leafe match't vith a flower, and each string
Of golden wire, each line of filke; there run
Italian workes, whose thread the Sisters spun;
And there did fing, or seem to finge, the choyce
Birds of a forraine note and various voyce:
Here hangs a mossey rocke; their playes a fair
But chiding fountaine purled: Not the ayre,
Nor cloudes nor thunder, but were liuing drawne
Not out of common Tiffany or Lawne,
But fine materials, which the Mufes know,
And onely know the countries where they grow.
Now when they could no longer him enjoy,
In mortal garments pent; death may destroy,
They fay bis body, but his verfe fball live,

And more than nature takes, our hands shall give:
In a leff volume, but more strongly bound

Shakespeare shall breath and speake, with Laurell crown'd
Which never fades. Fed with Ambrofian meate

In a well-lyned vesture, rich and neat.

So with this robe they cloath him, hid him wear it
For time fall neuer staine, nor envy teare it.

The friendly admirer of his

Endowments,

I. M. S.

REMARKS

ON THE TITLE, DEDICATION, AND OTHER PRELIMINARY MATTER TO THE FOLIO OF 1623 AND THE FOLIO OF 1632.

THE A

HE first and only authentic edition of Shakespeare's Dramatic Works, the folio of 1623, opens with some preliminary matter which has peculiar interest. This matter 18 reprinted in reduced fac-simile for the first time in the present edition; the form and style of the original letter, as well as the orthography and the arrangement of the pages being imitated in such a manner that proportion is perfectly preserved, and the effect is that of the original volume seen through a concave lens

The Title-page itself is singular in its appearance, and singularly interesting. It is chiefly occupied by a portrait of Shakespeare which was engraved by Martin Droeshout. Of the authenticity of this portrait there can be no reasonable doubt; and it is sustained by better evidence than the most diligent research has been able to bring torward in favor of that of any other. The interesting subject of the portraits of Shakespeare is, however, fully discussed in the first volume.

Martin Droeshout is known only as the engraver of a few portraits and book illustrations for works published in London in the early part of the seventeenth century. His style is hard, stiff, and dry, as may be seen by his reproduction of the portrait of Shakespeare. As far as we know at present, eight portraits, (including those of Shakespeare and John Fox,) some plates for Haywood's Hierarchy of Angels, and the Death of Dido for Stapleton's Virgil, are all the specimens of his work that have come down to us.

On the fly leaf opposite the title-page, in the position usually assigned to the portrait of an author, are some verses