themfelves, Heminges and Condell, afterwards did Shakespeare the juftice to reject thofe eight plays in their edition; tho' they were then printed in his Name, in every body's hands, and acted with fome applaufe; (as we learn from what Ben Johnson fays of Pericles in his Ode on the New Inn.) That Titus Andronicus is one of this class I am the rather induced to believe, by finding the fame Author openly exprefs his contempt of it in the Induction to Bartholomew Fair, in the year 1614, when Shakespeare was yet living. Andt here is no better authority for these latter fort, than for the former, which were equally published in his life-time.

If we give into this opinion, how many low and vicious parts and paffages might no longer reflect upon this great Genius, but appear unworthily charged upon him? And even in those which are really his, how many faults may have been unjustly laid to his account from arbitrary Additions, Expunctions, Tranfpofitions of fcenes and lines, confufion of Characters and Perfons, wrong application of Speeches, corruptions of innumerable Paffages by the Ignorance, and wrong Corrections of 'em again, by the Impertinence of his firft Editors? From one or other of these confiderations, I am verily perfuaded, that the greatest and the groffeft part of what are thought his errors would vanish, and leave his character in a light very different from that difadvantageous one, in which it now appears

to us.

This is the ftate in which Shakespeare's writings lye at prefent; for fince the abovementioned Folio Edition, all the reft have implicitly followed it, without having recourfe to any of the former, or ever making the comparison between them. It is impoffible to repair the Injuries already done him; too much time has elaps'd, and the materials are too few. In what I have done I have rather given a proof of my willingness and defire, than of my ability, to do him justice. I have discharg'd the dull duty of an Editor, to my best judgment, with more labour than I expect thanks, with a religious abhorrence of all innovation, and without any indulgence

to

to my private sense or conjecture. The method taken in this Edition will show itself. The various Readings are fairly put in the margin, fo that every one may compare them; and thofe I have preferred into the Text are conftantly ex fide Codicum, upon authority. The Alterations or Additions which Shakespeare himfelf made, are taken notice of as they occur. Some fufpected paffages which are exceffively bad, (and which feem Interpolations by being fo inferted that one can entirely omit them without any chaẩm, or deficience in the context) are degraded to the bottom of the page; with an Asterisk referring to the places of their infertion. The Scenes are mark'd fo diftinctly, that every removal of place is specify'd; which is more neceffary in this Author than any other, fince he shifts them more frequently: and fometimes without attending to this particular, the reader would have met with obfcurities. The more obfolete or unufual words are explained. Some of the most fhining paffages are diftinguished by comma's in the margin; and where the beauty lay not in particulars but in the whole, a ftar is prefix'd to the fcene. This seems to me a fhorter and lefs oftentatious method of performing the better half of Criticism (namely the pointing out an Author's excellences) than to fill a whole paper with citations of fine passages, with general Applaufes, or empty Exclamations at the tail of them. There is alfo fubjoined a Catalogue of those first Editions by which the greater part of the various readings and of the corrected paffages are authorised, (most of which are fuch as carry their own evidence along with them.) These Editions now hold the place of Originals, and are the only materials left to repair the deficiencies or restore the corrupted sense of the Author, I can only wish that a greater number of them (if a greater were ever published) may yet be found, by a fearch more fuccefsful than mine, for the better accomplishment of this end.

I will conclude by saying of Shakespeare, that with all his faults, and with all the irregularity of his Drama, one may look upon his works, in comparison of those that are more finish'd and regular, as upon an ancient VOL. I. d majestick

majeftick piece of Gothick Architecture, compar'd with a neat Modern Building: The latter is more elegant and glaring, but the former is more ftrong and more folemn. It must be allow'd, that in one of these there are materials enough to make many of the other. It has much the greater variety, and much the nobler apartments; tho' we are often conducted to them by dark, odd, and uncooth Paffages. Nor does the Whole fail to ftrike us with greater reverence, though many of the parts are childish, ill-plac'd, and unequal to its grandeur.

M. THEO

THE Attempt to write upon SHAKESPEARE is like

The Atomp a large, a fpacious, and a splendid

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Dome thro' the Conveyance of a narrow and obfcure Entry. A Glare of Light fuddenly breaks upon you beyond what the Avenue at firft promis'd: and a thoufand Beauties of Genius, and Character, like fo many gaudy Apartments pouring at once upon the Eye, diffufe and throw themselves out to the Mind. The Profpect is too wide to come within the Compass of a fingle View: 'tis a gay Confufion of pleafing Objects, too various to be enjoyed but in a general Admiration; and they must be feparated, and ey'd diftinctly, in order to give the proper Entertainment.

And as in great Piles of Building, fome Parts are often finish'd up to hit the Tafte of the Connoiffeur; others more negligently put together, to ftrike the Fancy of a common, and unlearned Beholder: Some Parts are made ftupendously magnificent and grand, to furprize with the vaft Defign and Execution of the Architect; others are contracted, to amuse you with

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his

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his Neatness and Elegance in little. So, in Shakespeare, find Traits that will ftand the Teft of the fevereft Judgment; and Strokes as carelefly hit off, to the Level of the more ordinary Capacities: Some Defcriptions rais'd to that Pitch of Grandeur, as to aftonish you with the Compafs and Elevation of his Thought: and others copying Nature within fo narTow, fo confined a Circle, as if the Author's Talent lay only at drawing in Miniature.

In how many Points of Light muft we be obliged to gaze at this great Poet! In how many Branches of Excellence to confider, and admire him! Whether we view him on the Side of Art or Nature, he ought equally to engage our Attention: Whether we refpect the Force and Greatness of his Genius, the Extent of his Knowledge and Reading, the Power and Address with which he throws out and applies either Nature, or Learning, there is ample Scope both for our Wonder and Pleasure. If his Diction, and the cloathing of his Thoughts attract us, how much more must we be charm'd with the Richness, and Variety, of his Images and Ideas! If his Images and Ideas fteal into our Souls, and ftrike upon our Fancy, how much are they improv'd in Price, when we come to reflect with what Propriety and Juftnefs they are applied to Character! If we look into his Characters, and how they are furnifhed and proportioned to the Employment he cuts out for them, how are we taken up with the Maftery of his Portraits! What Draughts of Nature! What Variety of Originals, and how differing each from the other! How are they dreffed from the Stores of his own luxurious Imagination; without being the Apes of Mode, or borrowing from any foreign Wardrobe! Each of them are the Standards of Fashion for themfelves: like Gentlemen that are above the Direction of their Taylors, and can adorn themselves without the Aid of Imitation. If other Poets draw more than one Fool or Coxcomb, there is the fame Refemblance in them, as in that Painter's Draughts, who was happy only at forming a Rofe: you find them all younger Brothers of the fame Family, and all of them have a Pretence