haue profequuted both them, and their Author liuing, vvith Jo much fauour: we hope, that (they out-liuing him, and he not hauing the fate, common with fome, to be exequutor to his owne writings) you will vfe the like indulgence toward them, you haue done unto their parent. There is a great difference, vvhether any Booke choofe his Patrones, or finde them; This hath done both. For, fo much were your L L. likings of the feuerall parts, vvhen they were acted, as before they vvere published, the Volume ask'd to be yours. We haue but collected them, and done an office to the dead, to procure his Orphanes, Guardians; vvithout ambition either of felfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of fo worthy a Friend, & Fellow aliue, as was our SHAKESPEARE, by humble offer of his playes, to your most noble patronage. Wherein, as we haue iuftly obferued, no man to come neere your L.L. but vvith a kind of religious addresse; it hath bin the height of our care, vvho are the Prefenters, to make the prefent worthy of your H H. by the perfection. But, there we must also craue our abilities to be confiderd, my Lords. We cannot go beyond our owne powers. Country hands reach foorth milke, creame, fruites, or what they haue: and many Nations (we have heard) that had not gummes & incense, obtained their requests with a leauened Cake. It vvas no fault to approch their Gods, by what meanes they could: And the most,. though meanest, of things are made more precious, when they are dedicated to Temples. In that name therefore, we most humbly confecrate to your H. H. these remaines of your feruant Shakefpeare; that what delight is in them, may be euer your L.L. the reputation his, & the faults ours, if any be committed, by a payre fo carefull to fhew their gratitude both to the living, and the dead, as is

Your Lordshippes most bounden,

IOHN HEMINGE,

HENRY CONDELL.

To the great Variety of Readers.

Rom the most able, to him that can but fpell: There you are number'd. We had rather you were weighd. Especially, when the fate of all Bookes depends vpon your capacities: and not of your heads alone, but of your purfes. Well! it is now publique, & you wil ftand for your priuiledges wee know: to read, and cenfure. Do fo, but buy it first. That doth best commend a Booke, the Stationer faies. Then, how odde foeuer your braines be, or your wifedomes, make your licence the fame, and spare not. Iudge your fixe-pen'orth, your fhillings worth, your fiue fhillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rife to the iuft rates, and welcome. But, what euer you do, Buy. Cenfure will not driue a Trade, or make the Iacke go. And though you be a Magistrate of wit, and fit on the Stage at Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne Playes dailie, know, thefe Playes haue had their triall alreadie, and stood out all Appeales; and do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of Court, then any purchas'd Letters of commendation.

It had bene a thinge, we confeffe, worthie to haue bene wished, that the Author himselfe had liu'd to haue fet forth, and ouerfeen his owne writings; But fince it hath bin ordain'd otherwife, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envie his Friends, the office of their care, and paine, to haue collected & publish'd them; and fo to haue publish'd them, as where (before) you were abus’d with diurse stolne, and furreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of iniurious impostors, that expos'd them: euen those, are now offer'd to your view cur'd, and perfect of their limbes; and all the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he conceived them. Who, as he was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expreffer of it. His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he vttered with that eafineffe, that wee haue fcarce receiued

receiued from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our prouince, who onely gather his works, and giue them you, to praise him. It is yours that reade him. And there we hope, to your diuers capacities, you will finde enough, both to draw, and hold you: for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could be lost. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe : And if then you doe not like him, surely you are in fome manifest danger, not to vnderstand him. And so we leaue you to other of his Friends, whom if you need, can bee your guides: if you neede them not, you can leade your felues, and others. And fuch Readers we wish him.

John Heminge.
Henrie Condell

To the memory of my beloued,

the AVTHOR

MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE:

AND

what he hath left vs.

O draw no enuy. (Shakespeare) on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy Booke, and Fame:
While I confeffe thy writings to be such,
As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all mens fuffrage. But these wayes
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise :
For feelieft Ignorance on these may light,

Which, when it founds at best, but eccho's right;
Or blinde Affection, which doth ne`re aduance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praife,
And thinke to ruine, where it feemed to raise.
Thefe are, as fome infamous Baud, or Whore,
Should praife a Matron. What could hurt her more?
But thou art proofe against them, and indeed
Aboue th'ill fortune of them, or the need
I, therefore will begin. Soule of the Age!
The applaufe! delight! the wonder of our Stage!
My Shakespeare, rife; I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenfer, or bid Beaumont lye

A little further, to make thee a roome:
Thou art a Moniment, without a tombe,
And art aliue fill, while thy Booke doth liue,
And we haue wits to read, and praise to giue.
That I not mixe thee fo, my braine excuses;

I meane with great, but disproportion'd Muses:
For, if I thought my iudgement were of yeeres,
I should commit thee furely with thy peeres,
And tell, how farre thou didstft our Lily out-fhine,
Or fporting Kid, or Marlowes mighty line

And

And though thou hadst fmall Latine, and leffe Greeke,
From thence to honour thee, I would not feeke
For names; but call forth thund'ring Æschilus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to vs,

Paccuuius, Accius, him of Cordoua dead,
To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread,
And shake a Stage: Or, when thy Sockes were on,
Leaue thee alone, for the comparison

Of all, that infolent Greece, or haughtie Rorne
fent forth, or fince did from their ashes come.
Triumph, my Britaine. thou hast one to showe,
To whom all Scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time!

And all the Mufes ftill were in their prime,
When like Apollo he came forth to warme

Our eares, or like a Mercury to charme! Nature her felfe was proud of his defignes,

And ioy'd to weare the dressing of his lines! Which were fo richly spun, and wouen so fit, As, fince, she will vouchsafe no other Wit.

The

merry Greeke, tart Aristophanes,

Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please; But antiquated, and deferted lye

As they were not of Natures family.

Yet must I not giue Nature all: Thy Art,
My gentle Shakespeare, muft enioy a part.
For though the Poets matter, Nature be,

His Art doth giue the fashion. And, that he,
Who cafts to write a liuing line, must fweat
(fuch as thine are) and ftrike the second heat
Vpon the Mules anuile: turne the same,

(And himfelfe with it) that he thinkes to frame; Or for the lawrell, he may gaine a scorne,

For a good Poet's made, as well as borne.
And fuch wert thou. Looke bow the fathers face
Liues in his iffue, euen fo, the race

Of Shakespeares mind, and manners brightly fbines
In his well torned, and true-filed lines:

In each of which, he feemes to shake a Lance,
As brandifb't at the eyes of ignorance.
Sweet Swan of Auon! what a fight it were

To fee thee in our waters yet appeare,

Ant