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
The truer image and a liuelier he,

Turne reader. But, obferue his comicke vaine,
Laugh, and proceed next to a Tragicke straine,
Then weepe: So when thou find'st two contraries,
Two different passions from thy rapt soul rise,—
Say, (who alone effect fuch wonders could,)
Rare Shakespeare to the life thou dost behold.

An Epitaph on the admirable Dramaticke Poet, W. SHAKESPEARE. What 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 needst 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 Physiognomie 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 piots fo sad,
Then laughing at our feare; abus'd, and glad
To be abuf'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 crablike way
Time paft made paftime, 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 ftrike up an 1 ftroake downe, both joy and ire;
To steere th' affections; and by heauenly fire

Mould

Mould us anew, Stolen from ourfelues

-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 moft faire
Calliope, whofe speaking 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
Frefhe greene, and pleasant 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 with a flower, and each string
Of golden wire, each line of filke; there run
Italian workes, whofe thread the Sifters fpun;
And there did fing, or feem to finge, the choyce
Birds of a forraine note and various voyce:
Here hangs a massey 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 his body, but his verse shall live,

And more than nature takes, our hands shall give :

In a leff volume, hut 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

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 is 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 forward 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