The facts about Shakespeare

THE FACTS ABOUT
SHAKESPEARE

BY
WILLIAM ALLAN NEBLSON, Pn.D.

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY
AND

ASHLEY HORACE THORNDIKE, PH.D., L.H.D.

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

gorfc
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

1916
All rights reserved - L

COPYBIGHT, 1918,

BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1913. Reprinted
April, 1914; July, 1915; May, 1916.

PR

Contents

OHAPTEB

PACK

r i.

SHAKESPEARE'S ENGLAND AND LONDON

1

ii.

BIOGRAPHICAL FACTS AND TRADITIONS

. 17

in.

SHAKESPEARE'S READING .

. ,

. 50

IV.

CHRONOLOGY AND DEVELOPMENT

m u

. 67

*( V.

THE ELIZABETHAN DRAMA

• •

. 89

VI.

THE ELIZABETHAN THEATER

*

. 117

J9

VII.

THE TEXT OF SHAKESPEARE

.

. 131

VIII.

QUESTIONS OF AUTHENTICITY .

, .

. 156

IX.

SHAKESPEARE SINCE 1616 .

. ,

. 167

f x.

CONCLUSION

188

APPENDIX A. BIOGRAPHICAL DOCUMENTS AND AU-
THORITIES 203

APPENDIX B. INDEX OF THE CHARACTERS IN SHAKE-
SPEARE'S PLAYS 226

APPENDIX C. INDEX OF THE SONGS . . . .241

APPENDIX D. BIBLIOGRAPHY 243

INDEX , 265

THE FACTS ABOUT SHAKESPEARE

tfactjs about

CHAPTER I

SHAKESPEARE'S ENGLAND AND LONDON

SHAKESPEARE lived in a period of change. In
religion, politics, literature, and commerce, in the
habits of daily living, in the world of ideas, his life-
time witnessed continual change and movement.
When Elizabeth came to the throne, six years before
he was born, England was still largely Catholic, as it
had been for nine centuries ; when she died England
was Protestant, and by the date of Shakespeare's
death it was well on the way to becoming Puritan.
The Protestant Reformation had worked nearly its
full course of revolution in ideas, habits, and beliefs.
The authority of the church had been replaced by that
of the Bible, of the English Bible, superbly translated
by Shakespeare's contemporaries. Within his life-
time, again, England had attained a national unity
and an international importance heretofore unknown.
The Spanish Armada had been defeated, the kingdoms

B I

a Wqt ifatt* about

of England and Scotland united, and the first colony
established in America. Even more revolutionary had
been the assertion of national greatness in literature
and thought. The Italian Renaissance, following the
rediscovery of Greek and Roman literature, had
extended its influence to England early in the century,
but only after the accession of Elizabeth did it bring
full harvest. The names that crowd the next fifty
years represent fine native endowments, boundless
aspiration, and also novelty, — as Spenser in poetry,
Bacon in philosophy, Hooker in theology. In com-
merce as well as in letters there was this same activity
and innovation. It was a time of commercial pros-
perity, of increase in comfort and luxury, of the
growth of a powerful commercial class, of large fortunes
and large benefactions. Whatever your status, your
birth, trade, profession, residence, religion, education,
or property, in the year 1564 you had a better chance
to change these than any of your ancestors had ; and
there was more chance than there had ever been that
your son would improve his inheritance. The indi-
vidual man had long been boxed up in guiid, church,
or the feudal system; now the covers were opened,
and the new opportunity bred daring, initiative, and
ambition. The exploits of the Elizabethan sea rovers
still stir us with the thrill of adventure ; but adventure
and vicissitude were hardly less the share of merchant,
priest, poet, or politician. The individual has had no
such opportunity for fame in England before or since.

CnglanD

The nineteenth century, which saw the industrial revo-
lution, the triumphs of steam and electricity, and the
discoveries of natural science, is the only period that
equalled the Elizabethan in the rapidity of its changes
in ideas and in the conditions of living ; and even that
era of change offered relatively fewer new impulses to
individual greatness than the fifty years of Shakespeare's
life.

Shakespeare's England was an agricultural country
of four or five million inhabitants. It fed itself, except
when poor harvests compelled the importation of grain,
and it supplemented agriculture by grazing, fishing,
and commerce, chiefly with the Netherlands, but
growing in many directions. The forests were becoming
thin, but the houses were still of timber; the roads
were poor, the large towns mostly seaports. The
dialects spoken were various, but the speech of the mid-
land counties had become established in London, at the
universities, and in printed books, and was rapidly
increasing its dominance. The monasteries and re-
ligious orders were gone, but feudalism still held sway,
and the people were divided into classes, — the various
ranks of the nobility, the gentry, the yeomen, the bur-
gesses, and the common people. But changes from
one class to another were numerous; for many lords
were losing their inheritances by extravagance, while
many business men were putting their profits into land.
In spite of persecutions, occasional insurrections, and
the plague which devastated the unsanitary towns, it

3£ ije jfacts? about

was a time of peace and prosperity. The coinage was
reformed, roads were improved, taxes were not burden-
some, and life in the country was more comfortable and
secure than it had been. Books and education were
spreading. Numerous grammar schools taught Latin,
the universities made provision for poor students, and
there were now many careers besides that of the church
open to the educated man.

Stratford, then a village of some two thousand
inhabitants, somewhat off the main route of traffic,
was far more removed from the world than most towns
of similar size in this day of railways, newspapers, and
the telegraph. With the nearby country, it made up
an independent community that attended to its own
affairs with great thoroughness. The corporation,
itself the outgrowth of a medieval religious guild,
regulated the affairs of every one with little regard for
personal liberty. It was especially severe on rebellious
servants, idle apprentices, shrewish women, the pigs that
ran loose in the streets, and (after 1605) persons guilty
of profanity. Regular church attendance and fixed
hours of work were required. The corporation fre-
quently punished with fines (the poet's father on one
occasion) those who did not clean the street before their
houses; and it was much occupied in regulating the
ale-houses, of which the village possessed some thirty.
Like all towns of this period, Stratford suffered fre-
quently from fire and the plague. Trade was dependent
mainly on the weekly markets and semi-annual fairs,

Sports ano |Dlai?$ 5

and Stratford was by no means isolated, being not far
from the great market town of Coventry, near Kenil-
worth and Warwick, and only eighty miles from
London.

Shakespeare's England was merry England. At
least, it was probably as near to deserving that adjec-
tive as at any time before or since. There was plenty
of time for amusement. There were public bowling-
greens and archery butts in Stratford, though the cor-
poration was very strict in regard to the hours when
these could be used. Every one enjoyed hunting,
hawking, cock-fighting, bull-baiting, dancing, until the
Puritans found such enjoyments immoral. The youth-
ful Shakespeare acquired an intimate knowledge of
dogs and horses, hunting and falconry, though this
was a gentleman's sport. The highways were full of
ballad singers, beggars, acrobats, and wandering
players. Play-acting of one kind or another had long
been common over most of rural England. Miracle
plays were given at Coventry up to 1580, and bands of
professional actors came to Stratford frequently, and
on their first recorded appearance received their per-
mission to act from the bailiff, John Shakespeare (1568-
1569). There was many a Holof ernes or Bottom to
marshal his pupils or fellow-mechanics for an amateur
performance; and Shakespeare may have seen the
most famous of the royal entertainments, that at
Kenilworth in 1575, when Gascoigne recited poetry,
and Leicester, impersonating Deep Desire, addressed

j^acts about

Elizabeth from a bush, and a minstrel represented
Arion on a dolphin's back. The tradition may be right
which declares that it was the trumpets of the comedians
that summoned Shakespeare to London.

In the main, life in the country was not so very dif-
ferent from what it is now in the remoter places. Many
a secluded English village, as recently as fifty years ago,
jogged on much as in the sixteenth century. Oppor-
tunity then as now dwelt mostly in the cities, but the
city of the sixteenth century bore slight resemblance
to a city of to-day.

London, with less than 200,000 inhabitants, was
still a medieval city in appearance, surrounded by a
defensive wall, guarded by the Tower, and crowned by
the cathedral. The city proper lay on the north of the
Thames, and the wall made a semicircle of some two
miles, from the Tower on the east to the Fleet ditch
and Blackfriars on the west. Seven gates pierced
the wall to the north, and the roads passing through
them into the fields were lined with houses. West-
ward along the river were great palaces, behind which
the building was practically continuous along the
muddy road that led to the separate city of Westminster.
The Thames, noted for its fish and swans, was the
great thoroughfare, crowded with many kinds of boats
and spanned by the famous London Bridge. By one
of the many rowboats that carried passengers hither
and thither, or on foot over the arches of the bridge,
between the rows of houses that lined it, and under the

tlon&on

heads of criminals which decorated its entrance, you
might cross the Thames to Southwark. Turning west,
past St. Saviour's and the palace of the Bishop of
Winchester, you were soon on the Bankside, a locality
long given over to houses of ill fame and rings for the
baiting of bulls and bears. The theaters, forbidden in I
the city proper, were built either in the fields to the
north of the walls, or across the river close by the kennels
and rings. Here, as Shakespeare waited for a boat-
man to ferry him across to Blackfriars, the whole city
was spread before his eyes, in the foreground the
panorama of the beautiful river, beyond it the crowded
houses, the spires of many churches, and the great
tower of old St. Paul's.

It was a city of narrow streets, open sewers, wooden
houses, without an adequate water supply or sanitation,
in constant danger from fire and plague. But dirt and
disease were no more prevalent than they had been for
centuries; in spite of them, there was no lack of life
in the crowded lanes. The great palaces were outside
the city proper, and there were few notable buildings
within its precincts except the churches. The dis-
mantled monasteries still occupied large areas, but
were being made over to strange uses, the theaters
eventually finding a place in Blackfriars and White-
friars. The Strand was an ill-paved street running
behind the river palaces, past the village of Charing
Cross, on to the royal palace of Whitehall and to the
Abbey and Hall at Westminster. The walls and sur-

8 Ww 3Fact0 about

rounding moat had ceased to be of use for defense, and
building constantly spread into the fields without.
These fields were favorite places for recreation and
served the purpose of city parks. The Elizabethans
were fond of outdoor sports and spent little daytime
\ indoors. The shops were open to the street, and
the clear spaces at Cheapside and St. Paul's Church-
yard seem to have been always crowded. St. Paul's,
although still used for religious services, had become a
sort of city club or general meeting place. Mules and
horses were no longer to be found there as in the reign of
Mary, but the nave was in constant use as a place for
gossip and business. The churchyard was the usual
place for holding lotteries, and here were the shops of
a majority of the London booksellers. In its northeast
corner was Paul's Cross, the famous pulpit whence the
wishes of the government were announced and popular-
ized by the Sunday preachers. And here the variety
of London Me was most fully exhibited. The proces-
sions and entertainments at court, the ambassadors
from afar, the law students from the Temple, the old
soldiers destitute after service in Flanders, the seamen
returned from plundering the Spanish gold fleet, the
youths from the university come to the city to earn their
living by their wits, the bishop and the puritan, who
looked at each other askance, the young squire come to
be gulled of his lands by the roarers of the tavern, the
solid merchant with his chain of gold, the wives who
aped the court ladies with their enormous farthingales

Commercial

and ruffs, the court gallant with his dyed beard and
huge breeches, the idle apprentices quick to riot, the
poor poets in prison for debt — these and how many
more are familiar to every reader of the Elizabethan
drama. As often in periods of commercial prosper-
ity, luxury became fantastic. Men sold their acres to
put costly garments on their backs. Clothing was ab-
surd and ran to extreme sizes of ruffs, farthingales,
and breeches, or to gaudy colors and jewels. Enor-
mous sums were spent on feasts, entertainments, and
masques, especially in the reign of James I. Cleanli-
ness did not thrive, perfumes took the place of baths,
and rushes, seldom renewed, covered the floor even of
the presence chamber of Elizabeth. But the comforts
and luxuries of life increased and spread to all classes.
Tobacco, potatoes, and forks were first introduced in/
Shakespeare's time. Building improved, streets were!
widened, and coaches became so common as to excite
much animadversion and complaint. If some poets
spent much time in the debtors' prison, others lived well,
and some actors gained large fortunes.

The industrious apprentice who refused the allure-
ments of pageants, theaters, tailors, and taverns, was
sure to have his reward. It was a time of commercial
expansion, such as the last generation has witnessed in
Germany and the United States. Bankers, brokers,
and merchants gained great fortunes and managed to
protect them. Industry, thrift, and shrewdness were
likely to win enough to buy a knighthood. The trade

io Wtyt j?acts about §>ljake$peare

of the old East and the new West came to the London
wharves, and every one was ready to take a risk. The
merchants of London had furnished support to the poli-
cies of Henry VIII and were rich enough to fit out the
expedition against Flanders and to pay for a third of the
fleet that met the Armada. It was a time, too, for great
enterprises and benefactions to charity. Sir Thomas
Gresham built the Exchange, Sir Hugh Middleton paid
for the New River water supply, and there were many
gifts to hospitals. With all this increase in wealth, the
various professions prospered, especially that of law.
The inns of court were crowded with students, not a
few of whom forsook the courts for the drama. The
age of chivalry was over, that of commerce begun. No
one gained much glory by a military career in the days
of Elizabeth. The church, the law, banking, commerce,
teven politics and literature, offered better roads to
wealth or fame.

The importance of the court in Elizabethan London,
is not easy to realize to-day. It dominated the life of
the small city. Its nobles and their retainers, its cour-
tiers and hangers-on, made up a considerable portion of
the population ; its shows supplied the entertainment,
its gossip the politics of the hour. It was the seat of
pageantry, the mirror of manners, the patron or the
oppressor of every one. No one could be so humble
as to escape coming somehow within its sway, and
some of the greatest wrecked their lives in efforts to
secure its approval. It is no wonder that the plays of I

1

I

CttB anD fyt Court n

Shakespeare deal so largely with kings, queens, and I
their courts. Under the Tudors, and still more under
the Stuarts, the court aimed at increasing the central
authority so as to bring every affair of its subjects under
its direct control. In London, however, this effort
at centralization met with strong opposition. The
government was in the hands of the guilds representa-
tive of the wealth of the city, and was coming face to
face with many of the problems of modern munici-
palities. The corporation was in constant clash with
the court; and in the end the city, which had sup-
ported Henry VIII and Elizabeth against powerful
nobles, became the Puritan London, that aided in oust-
ing the Stuarts.

This conflict between city and court is illustrated in
the regulation of the theaters and companies of actors.
The actors had a legal status only as the license of some
nobleman enrolled them as his servants, and they relied
on the protection of their patron and the court against
the opposition of the city authorities. The fact that
they were employed to give plays before the Queen
was, indeed, about' the only argument that won any
consideration from the corporation. This opposition
was based in part on moral or puritan grounds, but was
determined stift more by the fear of three menaces,
fire, sedition, and the plague. Wooden buildings were
already discouraged by statute, and the danger of fire
from the wooden theaters is shown by the burning of
the Globe and the Fortune. The gathering of crowds

about £>tjafee0peait

was feared by every property holder, and the theaters
were frequently the scenes of outbreaks of the appren-
tices. The danger of the plague from the crowd at
plays was the greatest of all. London was hardly ever
free from it, and suffered terrible devastation in the
years 1593 and 1603. For these reasons the theaters
were forbidden within the city's jurisdiction, and were
driven into the outskirts. The best companies ap-
peared frequently at court, and on the accession of
James I they were licensed directly as servants of
various members of the royal family. The actors
were thereafter under the immediate control of the
court, and certain "private" theaters were established
within the city. But this triumph of the court over
the long opposition of the city was not an unmixed
blessing for the drama.

The theaters in 1590 represented the public on which
they depended for support; by 1616 they were far less
representative of the nation or London, and more depen-
dent on the court and its following. The Blackfriars
theater, before which gathered the crowd of coaches
that annoyed the puritans of the neighborhood, was a
symptom of the growth of wealth and luxury, and
of the increased power of the monarchy ; the protests
of the puritan neighborhood were an indication of the
growth of a large class hostile alike to an arbitrary
court, luxury, and the theater.

Shakespeare's lifetime, however, saw little of this
sharp division into parties or of that narrow moral

^Incongruities 13

consistency which Puritanism came to require. Look-
ing back on his age in contrast with our own, we are
perhaps most impressed by its striking incongruities.
This London of dirt and disease was also the arena for
extravagant fashion and princely display. This popu-
lace that watched with joy the cruel torment of a bear
or the execution of a Catholic also delighted in the
romantic comedies of Shakespeare. This people, so
appallingly credulous and ignorant, so brutal, childish,
so mercurial compared with Englishmen of to-day,
yet set the standard of national greatness. This
absurdly decorated gallant could stab a rival in the
back or write a penitential lyric. Each man presents
strange, almost inexplicable, contrasts in character,
as Bacon or Raleigh, or Elizabeth herself. The drama
mingles its sentiment and fancy with horrors and
bloodshed ; and no wonder, for poetry was no occupa-
tion of the cloister. Read the lives of the poets —
Surrey, Wyatt, Sidney, Spgnser, Raleigh, Marlowe,
Jonson — and of these, only Spenser and Jonson died
in their beds, and Ben had killed his man in a duel.
The student of Elizabethan history and biography will
find stranger contrasts than in the lives of these poets,
for crime, meanness, and sexual depravity often appear
in the closest juxtaposition with imaginative idealism,
intellectual freedom, and moral grandeur.

The Italian Renaissance, with its mingled passions
for beauty, art, blood, lust, and intellect, seems for a
time transferred to London and dwelling alongside

14 ®^ jFacts about £>liafee$peare

of commerce and Puritanism. Yet these incongruities
of character, manners, and motives that seem so striking
to us to-day may probably be explained by conditions
already described. The opportunities created by the
changes in church and religion, the new education and
prosperity, the new America, and the revived classics,
all tended to create a new thirst for experience. This
thirst for experience led to excess and incongruity, but
it also furnished an unparalleled range of human
motive for a poet's observation and imitation.

In the wide range of our poet's survey, there is, how-
ever, one notable omission. The reign of Elizabeth,
like those of her three predecessors, was one of religious
controversy, change, and persecution. But all this
strife, all this debate, repression, persecution, and all
of this great turmoil working in the minds of English-
men, find little reflection in Shakespeare's plays, and
little in the whole Elizabethan drama. Religious con-
troversy had played a part in the drama of the reign
of Edward and Mary, but it rarely enters the Eliza-
bethan drama, and then mainly in the form of ridicule
for the puritan. Shakespeare's plays seem almost to
ignore the most momentous facts of his time. They
treat pagan, Catholic, and Protestant with cordiality and
only smile at the puritan or Brownist. His England of
the merry wives or Falstaff's justices seems strangely
untroubled by questions of faith or ritual. There is,
to be sure, plenty of religion and controversy in the
literature of the time, but the drama as a whole is

of jFreeDom 15

singularly non-religious. It reflects rather that free-
dom from restraint, that buoyancy of spirit, that lively
interest in experience, which had their full course in the
few years when the old garment was off and the new
not quite fitted. The immense intellectual and imag-
inative activity of the period consists precisely in this
freedom from restrictions, partisanship, dogmas, or
caste. Things had lost their labels and some time
and argument were required to find new ones. Ideas
were free and not bound to any school, party, or cause.
You grasped an idea without knowing whether it made
you realist, romanticist, or classicist; papist, puritan,
or pagan. After centuries of imprisonment, individual-
ity had its full chance in the world of ideas as elsewhere.
In a few years this was all over, and your sphere of
life and the ideas proper to that sphere were prescribed
for you. By another century, England had fought out
the issues of creed and government with expense of
blood and spirit, and had settled down to the com-
promise of 1688. In Shakespeare's day there was also,
of course, some movement toward fixity of ideas, and
there were great men who strove to convert others to
their ideas and to dictate belief and conduct. But
there was a breathing spell in which, comparatively
speaking, men were not alike, but individual, and in
which their motives and ideas revelled in a freedom
from ancient precedent. In this era of flux the modern
drama found its panorama of novel and varied expe-
rience making and marring character.

16 &\)t j^acts about fe>tjaitf spcarr
v

Shakespeare lived peaceably in the heyday of this
change, nearly of an age with Sidney, Raleigh, Spenser,
Bacon, Marlowe. Like Marlowe in the soliloquies of
Barabbas and Faust, he recognized the new possibilities
that the age opened through money or ideas. He made
much out of the commercial prosperity of the day,
gained such profits as were possible from his profession,
raised his estate, and acquired wealth. He gave his .
mind not to any cause or party but to the study of men. •!
The drunkards of the London inn, the yokels of War-
wickshire, and the finest gentlewomen of the land alike
came under the scrutiny of the creator of Falstaff,
Dogberry, and Rosalind. And like his great contem-
poraries, he triumphed over incongruities, for he trans-
lated his studies of the human mind into verse of
immortal beauty that yet delighted the public stage
which was located halfway between the bear dens and
the brothels.

1

CHAPTER H

BIOGRAPHICAL FACTS AND TRADITIONS

IN the time of Shakespeare, the fashion of writing
lives of men of letters had not yet arisen. The art of
biography could hardly be said to be even in its infancy,
for the most notable early examples, such as the lives
of Wolsey by Cavendish and of Sir Thomas More by
his son-in-law in the sixteenth century, and Walton's
handful in the seventeenth, are far from what the
present age regards as scientific biography. The pres-
ervation of official records makes it possible for the
modern scholar to reconstruct with considerable fullness
the careers of public men ; but in the case of Shake-
speare, as of others of his profession, we must needs be
content with a few scrappy documents, supplemented
by oral traditions of varying degrees of authenticity.
About Shakespeare himself it must be allowed that we
have been able to learn more than about most of his
fellow dramatists and actors.

In a matter which has been the subject of so much
controversy, it may be an aid to clearness if the facts
established by contemporary documents be first related,
and the less trustworthy reports added later. The first
indubitable item is trivial and unsavory enough. In
c 17

is {E&e iFacts about

April, 1552, a certain John Shakespeare, residing in
Henley Street, Stratford-on-Avon, in the county of
Warwick, was fined twelvepence for failing to remove
a heap of filth from before his door. This John, who
shared his surname with a multitude of other Shake-
speares in the England and especially in the Warwick-
shire of his time, appears, without reasonable doubt,
to have been the father of the poet. He is described
in later tradition as a glover and as a butcher; the
truth seems to be that he did a miscellaneous business in
farm products. For twenty years or more after this
first record he prospered, rising through various petty
municipal offices to the position of bailiff, or mayor, of
the town in 1568. His fortunes must have been notably
improved by his marriage, for the Mary Arden whom
he wedded in 1557 was the daughter of a well-to-do
farmer, Robert Arden, who bequeathed her £6 135. 4d.
in money and a house with fifty acres of land.

To John and Mary Shakespeare was born a son
William, whose baptism was registered in the Church
of the Holy Trinity in Stratford on April 26, 1564.
He was their eldest son, two daughters previously born
being already dead. Their other children were Gilbert,
Joan, Anna, Richard, and Edmund. The precise day
of William's birth is unknown. The monument over
his grave states that at his death on April 23, 1616, he
was "vEtatis 53," which would seem to indicate that
he must have been born at least as early as April 22 ;
and, since in those days baptism usually took place

19

within a very few days of birth, there is no reason for
pushing the date farther back.

Of the education of the poet we have no record. ,
Stratford had a free grammar school, to which such
a boy as the bailiff's son would be sure to be sent ; and
the inference that William Shakespeare was a pupil
there and studied the usual Latin authors is entirely
reasonable. About 1577 his father began to get into
financial difficulties, and it is reported that about
this time the boy was withdrawn from school to help
in his father's business. We know nothing certainly,
however, until we learn from the registry of the Bishop
of Worcester that on November 28, 1582, two husband-
men of Stratford gave bonds "to defend and save harm-
less" the bishop and his officers for licensing the mar-
riage of William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway.
Of the actual marriage there is no record. Anne is
probably to be identified with Agnes or Anne, the
daughter of Richard Hathaway of the neighboring
hamlet of Shottery, who had died in the previous July,
and had owned the house of which a part still survives
and is shown to visitors as "Anne Hathaway's cottage."
The date on Anne's tombstone indicates that she was
eight years older than the poet.

A comparison of the bond just mentioned with other
documents of the kind indicates it to be exceptional in the
absence of any mention of consent by the bridegroom's
parents, a circumstance rendered still more remarkable
by the fact that he was a minor. The bondsmen were

JFacts about

from Shottery, and this, along with the considerations
already advanced, has naturally led to the inference
that the marriage was hurried by the bride's friends,
and to the finding of a motive for their haste in the
birth within six months of "Susanna, daughter to
William Shakespere," who was baptized on May 26,
1583.

The record of the baptism of Shakespeare's only
other children, the twins Hamnet and Judith, in
February, 1585, practically exhausts the documentary
evidence concerning the poet in Stratford until 1596.
It is conjectured, but not known, that about 1586 he
found his way to London and soon became connected
with the theater, according to one tradition, as call-boy,
to another, as holder of the horses of theatergoers.
But by 1592 we are assured that he had entered the
ranks of the playwrights, and had achieved enough
success to rouse the jealous resentment of a rival.
Robert Greene, who died on the third of September in
that year, left unpublished a pamphlet, Greenes Groats-
worth of Witte: bought with a Million of Repentaunce,
in which he warned three of his fellows against certain
plagiarists, "those puppits, I meane, that speake from
our mouths, those an ticks garnisht in our colours-"
"Yes, trust them not," he goes on; "for there is an
upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with
his Tygers heart wrapt in a Players hide, supposes he is
as well able to bumbast out a blanke verse as the best
of you; and being an absolute Johannes Factotum, is

only g>l!afee=0cnte " 21

in his owne conceit the only Shake-scene in a countrie.
O that I might intreate your rare wits to be imployed
in more profitable courses, and let those apes imitate
your past excellence, and never more acquaint them
with your admired inventions ! I know the best
husband of you all will never prove an usurer, and the
kindest of them all wil never proove a kinde nurse ; yet,
whilst you may, seeke you better maisters, for it is pittie
men of such rare wits should be subject to the pleas-
ures of such rude groomes." The phrase about the
"tyger's heart" is an obvious parody on the line,

Oh Tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide !

which occurs both in The True Tragedie of Richard Duke
of Yorke, and in the variant of that play which is
included in the First Folio as the third part of Henry VI.
"The only Shake-scene" has naturally been taken as
an allusion to Shakespeare's name; and it is scarcely
possible to doubt the reference to him throughout the
passage. This being so, we may infer that by this date
Shakespeare had written, with whatever else, his share
in the three parts of Henry VI, and was successful
enough to seem formidable to the dying Greene. It
is noteworthy, too, that thus early we have allusion
to his double profession : as an actor in the words
"player's hide" and "Shake-scene," and as an author
in the charge of plagiarism. That the reference in
"beautified with our feathers" is to literary plagiarism
is confirmed by the following lines from Greene's Funer-

22 tElje JFacttf about

alls, by R. B., 1594, which seem to have been suggested
by Greene's phrase :

Greene is the ground of everie painters die ;
Greene gave the ground to all that wrote upon him.
Nay, more, the men that so eclipst his fame,
Purloynde his plumes : can they deny the same ?

Somewhat less certain is the allusion in a document
closely connected with the foregoing. Greenes Groats-
worth had been prepared for the press by his friend
Henry Chettle, and in the address "To the Gentlemen
Readers" prefixed to his Kind-Harts Dreame (registered
December 8, 1592), Chettle regrets that he has not
struck out from Greene's book the passages that have
been " offensively by one or two of them taken." "With
neither of them that take offence was I acquainted,
and with one of them I care not if I never be. The
other, whome at that time I did not so much spare as
since I wish I had, for that as I have moderated the
heate of living writers, and might have usde my owne
discretion, — especially in such a case, the Author
beeing dead, — that I did not, I am as sory, as if the
originall fault had beene my fault, because myselfe have
scene his demeanor no lesse civill, than he exelent in
the qualitie l he professes : Besides, divers of worship
have reported his uprightnes of dealing, which argues
his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that

1 I.e., profession, used especially at that time of the profession
of acting.

publications? 23

aprooves his Art." This characterization so well fits
in with the tone of later contemporary allusions to
Shakespeare that it is regrettable that Chettle did not
make its reference to him beyond a doubt.

Within a few months after the disturbance caused
by Greene's charges, Shakespeare appeared in the field
of authorship in quite unambiguous fashion. On
April 18, 1593, Richard Field, himself a Stratford man,
entered at Stationers' Hall a book entitled Venus and
Adonis. The dedication, which is to the Earl of South-
ampton, is signed by "William Shakespeare," and the
state of the text confirms the inference that the poet
himself oversaw the publication. The terms of the
dedication, read in the light of contemporary examples
of this kind of writing, do not imply any close relation
between poet and patron; and the phrase "the first
heyre of my invention," applied to the poem, need not
be taken as placing its composition earlier than any
of the plays, since writing for the stage was then scarcely
regarded as practising the art of letters. Lucrece was
registered May 9, 1594, and appeared likewise without
a name on the title-page, but with Shakespeare's full
signature attached to a dedication, somewhat more
warmly personal than before, to the same nobleman.
The frequency of complimentary references to these
poems, and the number of editions issued during the
poet's lifetime (seven of Venus, and five of Lucrece),
indicate that it was through them that he first obtained
literary distinction.

jfacts about

Meanwhile he was gaining a footing as an actor.
The accounts of the Treasurer of the Chamber for
March 15, 1594-5, bear record of Shakespeare's
ing been summoned, along with Kempe and Burbage,
as a member of the Lord Chamberlain's Company, to
present two comedies before the Queen at Greenwich
Palace in the Christmas season of 1594. This is the
earliest mention of the poet as sharing with his company
a kind of recognition as honorable as it was profitable.

The records now take us back to his family. On
August 11, 1596, his only son Hamnet was buried. In
the same year John Shakespeare applied to the College
of Heralds for a grant of arms, basing the claim on
services of his ancestors to Henry VII, the continued
good reputation of the family, and John's marriage to
"Mary, daughter and heiress of Robert Arden, of Wilm-
cote, gent." Since there is evidence to show that the
financial difficulties that had beset John Shakespeare
before his son went to London had continued, and since
the attempts of actors to obtain gentility by grants of
arms were not uncommon, it is likely that the poet
was the moving force in this matter. Though a draft
granting this request was drawn up, it was not ex-
ecuted; but in 1599 a renewed application was suc-
cessful, the heralds giving an exemplification of the coat
which the applicants claimed had been assigned them
in 1568, "Gold, on a bend sable, a spear of the first,
and for his crest or cognizance a falcon, his wings
displayed argent, standing on a wreath of his colours,

of $eto lacr 35

supporting a spear gold steeled as aforesaid." The
motto is "Non Sans Droit." These arms appear on
the monument over Shakespeare's grave in Trinity
Church in Stratford, and, impaled with the Hall arms,
on the tombstone of his daughter Susanna and her hus-
band John Hall.

A more substantial step towards restoring the
standing of the family was taken when the poet bought
on May 4, 1597, for sixty pounds, New Place, the
largest house in Stratford. This was only the beginning
of a considerable series of investments of the profits of
his professional life in landed and other property in his
native district. On his father's death in 1601 he in-,
herited the two houses in Henley Street, the only real
property of which the elder Shakespeare had retained
possession ; and in one of these the poet's mother lived
until her death in 1608. About a hundred and seven
acres of arable land with common pasture appertaining
to it was conveyed to the poet on May 1, 1602, by Wil-
liam and John Combe, of Warwick and Old Stratford
respectively, in consideration of £320; and twenty
acres of pasture land were acquired from the same
owners in 1610. On September 28, 1602, the Court
Rolls of the Manor of Rowington record the transfer to
Shakespeare from Walter Getley of a cottage and
garden in Chapel Lane, Stratford. In 1605 he paid
£440 for the thirty-one years remaining of a lease of
the Stratford tithes, a purchase which involved him in
a considerable amount of litigation. It was through

jfacts? about

this acquisition that he became involved in the dispute
over the attempted inclosure of certain common fields
belonging to the town of Stratford. John Combe, who
died in July, 1614, bequeathing Shakespeare £5, left
as heir a son, William, who with Arthur Mannering,
sought to annex to their respective estates the aforesaid
common lands. After having secured a deed safe-
guarding himself as part owner of the tithes from any
loss that might result from the inclosure, Shakespeare
seems to have lent his influence to Combe, in spite of
the requests of the corporation for aid. The inclosure
was not carried out.

His investments were not confined to his native
county. A deed of sale has come down to us concern-
ing the purchase of a house near the Blackfriars Theater
in London, in March, 1613. The price was £140;
but on the following day, March 11, Shakespeare gave
the previous owner, Henry Walker, a mortgage deed
for £60, which he never seems to have paid off. There
is evidence of his ownership of other property in
Blackfriars in three documents, recently discovered by
Professor C. W. Wallace, dealing with a suit in Chancery,
and dated April 26, May 15, and May 22, 1615, in which
Shakespeare and others sought to obtain from one
Matthew Bacon possession of certain deeds pertaining
to their property within the precinct of Blackfriars.

Other traces of Shakespeare's business transactions
suggest that he was by no means averse to going to law.
After his resumption of relations with Stratford in

ILitigatton 37

1596, we find his parents engaged (November, 1597)
in a lawsuit, the outcome of which does not appear to
recover the mortgaged estate of Asbies, which had
formed part of his mother's inheritance. The years
1600, 1604, 1608, and 1609 all contain records of suits
by the poet to recover small sums of money ; and, on
the other hand, we find tax collectors in London seek-
ing payment of taxes incurred on his goods while he
lived in the parish of St. Helen's, Bishopgate, in 1593
or 1594. These claims Shakespeare satisfied some
years later when he was living across the river in South-
wark. The documents of a law case of 1612, recently
discovered by Professor C. W. Wallace in the Public
Record office, include Shakespeare's deposition as a
witness and add some interesting information. It
appears that, possibly from 1598 to 1604, he lodged in
the house of Christopher Mountjoy, a wigmaker, at
the corner of Muggle and Silver streets near Cripple-
gate. In 1604 he had aided in arranging the marriage
of Mary Mountjoy to her father's apprentice, Stephen
Bellott. The lawsuit was brought by Bellott against
his father-in-law to secure the dowry and promise of
inheritance. Shakespeare's negotiations in regard to
the marriage play an important part in the various
depositions, as the question whether a dowry of £50
had been promised was crucial to the case. Shake-
speare himself was examined on September 11, but the
poet failed to remember that a definite sum had been
agreed upon for the dowry.

about £>ljabe$peare

Further evidence relating to Shakespeare as a man
of substance is to be found in letters in the Stratford
archives, written by prominent townsmen. One, from
Abraham Sturley to a relative in London on the busi-
ness of the town of Stratford, dated January 24,
1597-8, contains a reference to "Mr. Shaksper" as
"willing to disburse some money upon some odd yard-
land or other at Shottery or near about us," and sug-
gests urging upon Shakespeare the purchase of the
tithes. It seems fairly certain from other letters of
Sturley's that this one was addressed to Richard Quiney,
father of Shakespeare's future son-in-law, Thomas
Quiney. On October 25 of the same year, this Richard
Quiney wrote from the Bell in Carter Lane, London,
"to my loving friend and countryman, Mr. Wm.
Shackespere," asking for his help with £30. From a
letter from Abraham Sturley to Richard Quiney on the
following fourth of November it appears that Quiney
was seeking an enlargement of the charter of Stratford,
with a view to an increase of revenue. In Sturley's
previous letter reference had been made to an attempt
to gain "an ease and discharge of such taxes and sub-
sidies wherewith our town is like to be charged, and I
assure you I am in great fear and doubt by no means
able to pay." In this extreme condition of affairs
Sturley heard with satisfaction "that our countryman
Mr. Wm. Shak. would procure us money, which I will
like of as I shall here when, and where, and how ; and
I pray let not go that occasion if it may sort to any

Jprofrsfcionai ;jjOrogrr$$ 39

indifferent conditions." The poet is probably referred
to in still another letter, of about the same period, to
Richard Quiney, this time from his father Adrian :
"If you bargain with Win. Sha., or receive money
therefor, bring your money home that you may."
All of these documents carry the unmistakable impli-
cation that William Shakespeare in London was re-
garded by his fellow-townsmen as a person of resources,
likely to be of service to his friends hi financial stress.
If we return now to the evidences of Shakespeare's
professional progress, we shall see whence these re-
sources were derived. Confining ourselves still to
explicit and unambiguous records, we find the year
1598 marking Shakespeare's emergence as actor and
dramatist into a somewhat opener publicity. The
quarto editions of Richard II and Love's Labour's Lost,
issued that year, are the first plays to exhibit his name
on the title-page; and in the 1616 folio edition of
Ben Jonson's works, attached to Every Man in His
Humour, is the statement : " This Comedie was first
Acted in the yeere 1598 by the then L. Chamberleyne
his servants. The principal Comedians were Will.
Shakespeare, Aug. Philips, Hen. Condel, Will. Slye,
Will. Kempe, Ric. Burbadge, Joh. Hemings, Tho.
Pope, Chr. Beeston, Joh. Dyke." These evidences of
prominence are more than corroborated by the famous
passage in the Palladis Tamia (1598) of Francis Meres,
in which he not only compares the "mellifluous and
honey- tongued Shakespeare" with Ovid for his Venus

30 Qfyt jfacts about

and Adonis, his Lucrece, "his sugred sonnets among his
private friends," but with Plautus and Seneca for his
excellence "in both kinds for the stage; for comedy,
witness his Gentlemen of Verona, his Errors, his Love
Labors Lost, his Love Labours Wonne, his Midsummers
Night Dreame, and his Merchant of Venice ; for tragedy,
his Richard the 2, Richard the 3, Henry the 4, King
John, Titus Andronicus, and his Romeo and Juliet."
Barnfield in the same year harps on the "honey-flowing
vein" of the author of Venus and Lucrece, and "honey-
tongued" is again the opening epithet of John Weever's
epigram "Ad Gulielmum Shakespeare" (1599), in
which " Romeo" and "Richard" share the praises with the
narrative poems. From this time on, publishers of the
plays recognize Shakespeare's reputation by generally
placing his name on the title-page : a form of compli-
ment which the author probably did not appreciate
when it was extended, as in the case of The Passionate
Pilgrim (1599), to pirated works, some of which
were meant to be private, and others were not by
him at all.

Reminiscences or references to his works are frequent
in contemporary literature. Among these are several
passages in two plays, The Return from Parnassus, acted
in St. John's College, Cambridge, about 1601. In one
passage, Kempe, the famous actor, speaks slightingly
of the acting qualities of the plays by university pens
and continues, "Why here's our fellow Shakespeare
puts them all down, ay, and Ben Jonson too,"

Contemporary #llu0ton£ 31

another identification of the actor and the dramatist
Shakespeare. Another character in these plays prefers
Shakespeare to Chaucer, Gower, and Spenser. Less
enthusiastic though sincerely appreciative is John
Webster, who, in the address to the Reader prefixed
to The White Devil, 1612, acknowledges his indebtedness
to his predecessors, Chapman, Jonson, Beaumont, and
Fletcher and to "the right happy and copious industry
of Master Shakespeare, Master Dekker, and Master
Hey wood." Though of widely varying significance
and interest, the numerous allusions to Shakespeare
or to his plays give further testimony to his growing
reputation.

While it is probable that the sale of Shakespeare's
poems brought him in some financial return, he is not
likely to have profited from the publication of his
plays. The playwright at that time sold his product to
the manager or company, and thereby gave up all rights.
To the end of the sixteenth century managers usually
paid from £5 to £ll for a new play, adding a bonus
in the case of success, and sometimes a share of the pro-
ceeds of the second performance. During the first dec-
ade of Shakespeare's activity as a dramatist, then, we
may calculate that he obtained for about twenty-one
plays an average of about £10 each, which, making the
usual allowance for the greater purchasing power of
money, would be equivalent to about $400, or an annual
income of about $800. During his second decade the
prices for plays had so risen that he may be estimated

32 W$t JFaeta about

to have received about twice as much from this source
as in the early half of his career.

More profitable than playwriting was acting. Lee
estimates Shakespeare's salary as an actor before 1599
at £100 a year at least, exclusive of special rewards
for court performances, and we know that by 1635 an
actor-shareholder, such as Shakespeare latterly was,
had a salary of £180. Besides this, he became about
1599 a sharer, with Heming, Condell, Philips, and
others, in the receipts of the Globe Theater, erected
in 1597-8 by Richard and Cuthbert Burbage. The
annual income from a single share was over £200,
and Shakespeare may have had more than one. In
1610 he became a sharer also in the smaller Blackfriars
Theater, after it had been acquired by the Burbages.

The evidence thus accumulated of Shakespeare's
having acquired a substantial fortune is corroborated
by what we know of the earnings of other members of his
profession, and it leaves no mystery about the source
of the capital which he invested in real property in
Stratford and London.

The death of Elizabeth and the accession of James I
improved rather than impaired Shakespeare's prospects.
A patent, dated May 19, 1603, authorizes the King's
servants, "Lawrence Fletcher, William Shakespeare,
Richard Burbage . . . and the rest of their associats
freely to use and exercise the arte and faculty of playing
comedies, tragedies, histories, interludes, moralls,
pastorals, stage-plaies, and such other like as they

d5rotomg JjDrogpertti? 33

have already studied, or hereafter shall use or studie,
as well for the recreation of our lovinge subjects, as for
our solace and pleasure when we shall thinke good to
see them, duringe our pleasure." By this document
the Lord Chamberlain's Company became the King's,
and so remained during the rest of Shakespeare's
connection with the stage. At least a dozen instances
are recorded in the Revels Accounts of the Company's
having acted before his Majesty, and on the occasion
of a performance before the court at the Earl of Pem-
broke's mansion of Wilton House, £30 was given them
"by way of his majesty's reward.", Shakespeare's
name stands first in a list of nine actors who walked in
a procession on the occasion of James's entry into
London, March 15, 1604, when each actor was granted
four yards and a half of scarlet cloth for cloaks for the
occasion.

This recognition by the court is the latest evidence
we have of Shakespeare's belonging to the profession of
acting. He is mentioned in the Jonson Folio of 1616
as playing a part in Sejanus in 1603 ; but his name
is absent from the list of the King's servants, as his
company had now become, when they performed
Volpone in 1605, The Alchemist in 1610, and Catiline
in 1611. It would thus seem that he gave up acting
shortly after the death of Elizabeth.

The date of his withdrawal from London to Stratford
is less precisely indicated. The likelihood is that the
transference was gradual; for after 1611, the date
D

34 tEtfje jfacts? about

usually conjectured for his retirement from the metrop-
olis, we have indications of at least occasional activ-
ities there, as in the collaboration with Fletcher, now
generally admitted, in Henry VIII and The Two Noble
Kinsmen, and hi the business dealings in Blackfriars
already described. On the other hand, he had disposed
of his shares in the theaters before his death; as we
have seen, he appears frequently in his last years
in connection with municipal affairs in Stratford;
and later formal references are usually to "William
Shakespeare, gent., of Stratford-on-Avon." It was
during this period that we find record of the poet serving
in a new capacity. There has recently been dis-
covered in the Household Book at Belvoir Castle the
following entry : "Item 31 Martij (1613) to Mr. Shak-
speare in gold about my Lordes Impreso xiiij s. To
Richard Burbadge for paynting and making yt in gold
xliiij s. (Total) iiij " viij 8." This means that the
Earl of Rutland, who took part in a tournament at
Whitehall on March 24, 1613, had the heraldic device
for his shield made by Shakespeare and Burbage, —
Burbage, whose skill as painter is well known, being
probably responsible for the design and Shakespeare
for the motto. Rutland was a friend and associate
of that Earl of Southampton to whom Shakespeare had
dedicated his two narrative poems.

The remaining documents are chiefly domestic.
On June 5, 1607, his elder daughter Susanna married
John Hall, a physician of Stratford, who succeeded

ana Burial 35

the poet in the occupancy of New Place ; and on Septem-
ber 9, 1608, the Stratford Register records the burial of
his mother, * ' May ry Shaxspere, wy dowe . ' ' His younger
daughter, Judith, married Thomas Quiney on February
10, 1616, with such haste and informality as led to
the imposition of a fine by the ecclesiastical court at
Worcester. In the previous month Shakespeare had a
draft of his will drawn up by Francis Collins, a solicitor
of Warwick, and after certain changes this was signed
in March. On the twenty-fifth of April the Registers
show the burial of "Will. Shakespeare gent." The
monument over his grave gives the day of his death as
April 23 (Old Style). He was buried in the chancel
of Stratford Church, and on the grave may still be
read the much discussed lines :

Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare
To dig the dust enclosed heare ;
Bleste be the man that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones.

William Hall, who visited Stratford in 1694, records
the tradition that the poet himself composed the
lines in a style calculated to impress sextons and prevent
them from digging up his bones and throwing them
into the adjacent charnel house. However this may
be, the grave has remained unopened.

Seven years later, thirty-six of Shakespeare's plays
were collected by two of his former colleagues of the
theater, Heming and Condell, whom he had remembered

36 t&ty jfacts about g>!jafce0peare

in his will, and published in the famous First Folio.
The preliminary documents in this volume, printed in
our appendix, close significantly the contemporary
records of the man, and bind together the burgess of
Stratford with the actor of London and the dramatist of
the world.

Of Shakespeare's handwriting nothing that can be
called his with complete assurance has survived ex-
cept six signatures ; one to the deposition in the matter
of the Mountjoy marriage ; one to the deed of the house
he bought in Blackfriars in 1613, one to the mortgage-
deed on the same house, executed on the day after the
purchase, and one on each of the three sheets of paper
containing his will, the last of which has in addition the
words "By me." All six are somewhat crabbed speci-
mens of the old English style of handwriting, which is
the character he would naturally acquire in such a school
as that at Stratford in the sixteenth century, as we
learn from surviving examples of the copy-books of the
period. The manuscripts of his plays have gone the
way of all, or almost all, the autographs of the men
of letters of his time, nor is it likely that future research
will add materially to what we have. The exact signa-
tures, though it is difficult to be certain of all the letters,
seem to show a variation in spelling — Shakspere, Shake-
spere, or Shakspeare. His father's name appears in
the records of the town in sixteen different forms, an
illustration of the inconsistency in the orthography of
proper names, as of other words, which was common

ana ^portraits 37

with people of that time of greater worldly consequence
and education than the poet or his father. The form
of the name used in the present edition is that which
generally appears on the title-pages of plays ascribed
to him ; it is that which he himself used in signing the
dedications of his two poems to the Earl of Southamp-
ton; it is that which occurs in the legal documents
having to do with his property ; and it is the common
spelling in the literary allusions of the seventeenth
century.

Our knowledge of Shakespeare's personal appear-
ance is also far from being definite. The bust on the
monument in the church at Stratford was cut appar-
ently before 1623 by a Dutch stone cutter called
Gerard Janssen. It was originally colored ; probably
the eyes light hazel, and the hair auburn. Its crude
workmanship renders it unreliable as a likeness. The
frontispiece to the First Folio was engraved for that
work by Martin Droeshout, who was only twenty-two
years old at the time, so that he is more likely to have
made it from a portrait than from memory. No por-
trait has been found that seems actually to have served
this purpose, though there are resemblances between
the engraving and the portrait, dated 1609, presented
to the Memorial Picture Gallery at Stratford by Mrs.
Charles Flower . The numerous other portraits that have
been claimed as likenesses of the dramatist have varying
degrees, of probability, but none has a pedigree without
a flaw. Those with most claim to interest are the Ely

38 tEft)e IFacts about

Palace portrait, the Chandos portrait, the Garrick Club
bust, and the Kesselstadt death-mask.1

Such is the very considerable body of authenticated
facts about the life of Shakespeare. Lacking though
they are in intimate and personal touches, they can
hardly be said to leave the main outlines of his career
shadowy or mysterious. But they do not by any means
exhaust the data at our disposal for forming an impres-
sion of the poet's personality. A large mass of tradition,
of less than legal validity but much of it of a high de-
gree of probability, has come down to us, the sources
of which may now be detailed.

In the seventeenth century we have several bio-
graphical and critical collections in which Shakespeare
figures, the most important being these: Fuller's
Worthies of England (1662), Aubrey's Lives of Eminent
Men (compiled 1669-1696), Phillips's Theatrum Poeta-
rum (1675), and Langbaine's English Dramatic Poets
(1691). The two last are for strictly biographical pur-
poses negligible, though interesting as early criticism.
Fuller began his work in 1643, so that he may be sup-
posed to have had access to oral tradition from men
who actually knew Shakespeare. He gives few facts,
but some hints as to temperament. "Though his

•T

1 See frontispieces in the Tudor Shakespeare to editions of
Henry V (Droeshout original), King Lear (Ely Palace), Romeo
and Juliet (Chandos), Pericles (Garrick Club bust), and The
Tempest (Death-mask). The Stratford Monument and the
Droeshout engraving are reproduced in the present volume.

of tEraDtttontf 39

genius generally was jocular and inclining him to
festivity, yet he could, when so disposed, be solemn and
serious. . . . Many were the wit-combats betwixt
him and Ben Jonson ; which two I beheld like a Spanish
great galleon and an English man-of-war; master
Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ;
solid, but slow, in his performances. Shakespeare,
with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter
in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and
take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his,
wit and invention."

Among the actors who, with Shakespeare, took part
in the first production of Jonson's Every Man in His
Humour was Christopher Beeston, who when he died
in 1637 was manager of the Cockpit Theater in Drury
Lane. He was succeeded in this office by his son
William, who became in his old age the revered trans-
mitter to Restoration players and playwrights of the
traditions of the great age in which he had spent his
youth. From him, and from another actor of the same
period, John Lacy, as well as from other sources, the
antiquary John Aubrey collected fragments of gossip for
his lives of the English poets. According to Aubrey's
notes, confused and unequal in value, Shakespeare
"did act exceeding well"; "understood Latin pretty
well, for he had been in his younger years a school-
master in the country " ; "was a handsome, well-shaped
man, very good company, and of a very ready and
pleasant smooth wit." It is Aubrey, too, that reports

40 tEiie jfact* about

Jonn Shakespeare was a butcher, and he adds, "I
have been told heretofore by some of the neighbours that
when he was a boy he exercised his father's trade. . . .
When he killed a calf, he would doe it in a high style
and make a speech. There was at that time another
butcher's son in this towne, that was held not at all
inferior to him for a naturall wit, his acquaintance, and
coetanean, but dyed young." The same writer is
authority for the statement that it was at Grendon, near
Oxford, on the road from Stratford to London, that the
dramatist "happened to take the humour of the con-
stable in Midsummer Night's Dream" — a remark
that may refer loosely either to Bottom and his friends,
or to Dogberry and Verges. He also ascribes to the
poet an apocryphal epigram on a Stratford usurer,
John Combe.

The Rev. John Ward, vicar of Stratford-on-Avon for
1662 to 1668, kept about the time of his coming to
this charge a diary in which he relates certain echoes
of the conversation of the town at a time when the
poet's nephews were still living there. From him we
hear that in his elder days Shakespeare retired to
Stratford ; that in his most active period he wrote two
plays a year ; that he spent at the rate of £1000 a year ; '\
and that his death was due to a fever following a " merry
meeting" in Stratford with Jonson and Dray ton.

An additional reference to the tradition of Shake-
speare's convivial tendencies is to be found in the
legend of his visit to Bidford, six miles from Stratford,

41

with a group of cronies to compare capacities with the
Bidford Drinkers. According to the earliest version
of this somewhat widespread tale, that of a visitor
to Stratford in 1762, "he enquired of a shepherd for
the Bidford Drinkers, who replied they were absent
but the Bidford sippers were at home, and, I suppose,
continued the sheepkeeper, they will be sufficient for
you ; and so, indeed, they were ; he was forced to take
up his lodging under that tree [the crab-tree, long
pointed out] for some hours."

The earliest description of Shakespeare as 'la glover's
son" is found in the memoranda of Archdeacon Plume
of Rochester, written about 1656. Plume adds, "Sir
John Mennes saw once his old father in his shop — a
merry cheeked old man that said, ' Will was a good
honest fellow, but he darest have crackt a jeast with
him at any time.'" No Sir John Mennes who could
have seen John Shakespeare is known, but the saying
may well be the echo of contemporary gossip. *• — •*!

A manuscript preserved at Corpus Christi College,
Oxford, contains certains notes made before 1688 by the
Rev. William Fulman. Among them are interpolated
others (given here in italics) by the Rev. Richard
Da vies previously to 1708. "William Shakespeare was
born at Stratford-on-Avon in Warwickshire about
1563-4. Much given to all unluckinesse in stealing
venison and rabbits, particularly from Sr. . . . Lucy, who
had him whipt and sometimes imprisoned, and at last
made him fly his native country to his great advancement;

L

4* W$t IFacts? about £>l)afce$peatt

but his reveng was so sweet that he is his Justice Clodpate,
and. calls him a great man, and that in allusion to his
name bore three lowses rampant for his arms. From an
actor of playes he became a composer. He dyed Apr.
23, 1616, setat 53, probably at Stratford, for there he
is buried, and hath a monument (Dugd. p. 520), on
which he lays a heavy curse upon any one who shall
remove his bones. He dyed a papist." The inaccuracy
of Davies's version of facts otherwise known warns
us against too great a reliance on his individual contri-
bution.

A certain John Dowdall left a short account of places
he visited in Warwickshire in 1693. He describes the
monument and tombstone, giving inscriptions, and
adds, "The clarke that shew'd me this church is
above 80 years old ; he says that this Shakespeare was
formerly in this towne bound apprentice to a butcher,
but that he run from his master to Lpnolon, and there^
was received into the play-house as a serviture, and by
this means had an opportunity to be what he after-
wards prov'd. He was the best of his family, but the
male line is extinguished. Not one for feare of the curse
abovesaid dare touch his gravestone, tho his wife and
daughters did earnestly desire to be leyd in the same
grave with him." The traditional explanation of the
curse as reported by William Hall, has already been
given (p. 35).

The first regular biography of Shakespeare is that
by Nicholas Rowe, written as a preface to his edition of

Kotoe'0 H5tograpl)£ 43

the plays which, issued in 1709, stands at the beginning
of modern Shakespearean interpretation. Though
compiled nearly a century after the poet's death,
Rowe's life has claims upon our credit more substantial
than might be expected. His chief source of informa-
tion was the great actor Betterton, a Shakespeare
enthusiast, who had himself taken pains to accumulate
facts concerning his hero. Much of Betterton's
material came to him through John Lowin and Joseph
Taylor, two actors who had been colleagues of Shake-
speare's and who lived into the Restoration period.
According to John Downes, a theatrical prompter hi
the end of the seventeenth century, these veterans
brought to the new generation the actual instruction
they had received from the dramatist himself on the
playing of the parts respectively of Henry VIII and
Hamlet. Theatrical and other traditions reached
Rowe also through Sir William D'Avenant, the leading
figure in the revival of the stage after 1660. D'Ave-
nant's father was host of the Crown Inn at Oxford,
where, according to the statements of Aubrey and
of Anthony Wood in 1692, Shakespeare was accustomed
to put up on his journeys between London and Strat-
ford. Wood" reports that the elder D'Avenant was a
"man of grave and saturnine disposition, yet an admirer
of plays and play-makers, especially Shakespeare,"
and that Mrs. D'Avenant was "a very beautiful
woman, of a good wit and conversation." William
D'Avenant was generally reputed to be Shakespeare's

about

godson, and Aubrey, whose gossip must be accepted
with great hesitation, says that he was not averse
to being taken as his son. In spite of the fact of this
scandal's appearance in various seventeenth century
anecdotes, the more careful account of the D'Avenants
by Wood points to its rejection. The story is usually
linked with another recorded by the lawyer Manning-
ham in his Diary, March 13, 1602, that Burbage, who
had been playing Richard III, was overheard by Shake-
speare making an appointment with a lady in the
audience. When the tragedian arrived at the rendez-
vous, he found Shakespeare in possession; and on
knocking was answered that "William the Conqueror
was before Richard the Third."

To return to the D'Avenants, the elder son, Robert,
used to tell that when he was a child Shakespeare had
given him "a hundred kisses." Sir William was
Rowe's authority for the statement that the Earl of
Southampton once gave the poet £1000 "to enable
him to go through with a purchase which he heard he
had a mind to" ; but no purchase of this magnitude by
Shakespeare is recorded. D'Avenant himself was said
to own a complimentary letter written to Shakespeare
by James I, and the publisher Lintot says that the
Duke of Buckinghamshire claimed to have examined
the document. The story about Shakespeare's first
connection with the theater consisting in his holding
horses outside, told first in a manuscript note preserved
in the Library of the University of Edinburgh, 1748,

45

Is also credited to D'Avenant. According to this
tradition, frequently repeated, the future dramatist
organized a regular corps of boys and monopolized
the business, so that "as long as the practice of riding
to the play-house continued the waiters that held the
horses retained the appellation of Shakespeare's Boys."

Many of the natural inferences to be drawn from the
data in the first part of the chapter are given by Rowe
as facts. Thus he states positively that Shakespeare
attended a free school, from which he was withdrawn
owing to "the narrowness of his circumstances, and
the want of assistance at home." He repeats the deer-
stealing anecdote, with further detail. As to his
acting, Rowe reports, " Tho' I have inquir'd, I could
never meet with any further account of him this way
than that the top of his performance was the ghost in
his own Hamlet." He corroborates the general con-
temporary opinion of Shakespeare's fluency and
spontaneity in composition. As to his personality,
he says, "Besides the advantages of his wit, he was
in himself a good-natur'd man, of great sweetness in
his manners and a most agreeable companion." Rowe
credits Shakespeare with having prevented his company
from rejecting one of Jonson's plays at a time when
Jonson was altogether unknown, and is inclined to
consider the latter ungenerous in his critical remarks
on Shakespeare.

William Oldys, in his manuscript Adversaria, now in
the British Museum, reports a few further fragments of

about

gossip, the chief of which is that Shakespeare's brother
Gilbert was discovered still living about 1660 and was
questioned by some actors as to his memory of William.
All he could give them was a vague recollection of his
having played the part of Adam in As You Like It.

Such are the most significant details which tradition,
unauthenticated but often plausible, has added to
our knowledge of the documents. There exists also
a very considerable amount of literary allusion to
Shakespeare's productions from 1594 onwards, which
is easily accessible in collected form. The most
notable of these are the comments of his friend and con-
temporary, Ben Jonson. Besides the splendid eulogy
prefixed to the First Folio, Jonson talked of Shakes-
peare's lack of art to Drummond of Hawthornden,
and expressed himself with affection and discrimination
in the famous passage in Timber.

After all allowances have been made for the in-
accuracies of oral tradition, we may safely gather from
those concerning Shakespeare some inferences which
help to clothe the naked skeleton of the documented
facts. It is clear that, within a generation after
Shakespeare's death, common opinion both in Stratford
and London recognized that in the actor and dramatist
a great man had passed away, that he had been in a
worldly sense highly successful, though starting from
unpropitious beginnings, that he wrote with great
swiftness and ease, and that in his personal relations
he was gentle, kindly, genial, and witty. That the

Cfciuntce of tlje Bonnets; 47

bailiff's son who returned to his native town as a pros-
perous gentleman, is to be identified with the actor and
shareholder of the London theaters, and with the
author of the plays and poems, it is difficult to see
how there can remain any reasonable doubt; and,
though the facts which prove this identity contain little
to illuminate the vast intellect and soaring imagination
which created Hamlet and Lear, they contain nothing
irreconcilable with the personality.which these creations
imply rather than reveal.

One further source of information about Shake-
speare's personality has figured largely in some biog-
raphies. The Sonnets were published in 1609, evi-
dently without Shakespeare's cooperation or consent,
with a dedication by the publisher, Thomas Thorpe, to
a Mr. W. H., " the onlie begetter of these insuing
sonnets." All attempts to identify this Mr. W. H.
have failed. He may have been merely the person who
procured the manuscript for Thorpe, though the
language of the dedication seems to imply that he was
the young gentleman who is the subject of a consider-
able number of the poems. Of this young gentleman
and of a dark lady who seems to have been the occasion
of other of the sonnets, much has been written, but no
facts of Shakespeare's life have been established beyond
those which are obvious to every reader : that Shake-
speare wrote admiring and flattering sonnets to a young
man who is urged to marry (and who may have been
the Earl of Southampton, or an unknown Mr. W. H.,

jfacts about g>liatepeare

or another) ; and that he treats of an intrigue with
some unknown woman. The identification of the
young man of the first seventeen sonnets with other
friends who are praised in later sonnets is not certain,
though in some cases probable ; and much research and
conjecture have entirely failed to make clear the rela-
tions between the poet, the rival poet, the lady, and the
friend. The Sonnets furnish us with no knowledge of
Shakespeare's personal affairs, and only a meager basis
even for gossip as to some of his experiences with men
and women.

Another kind of inquiry has sought to discover in
the sonnets not facts or incidents of Shakespeare's life
but indications of his emotional experiences. The re-
sults of such inquiry are manifestly outside the scope
of this chapter. For their discussion, the reader must
be referred to Professor Alden's introduction to the
Tudor edition of the Sonnets. Shakespeare's personal-
ity as it is reflected from his works will also be con-
sidered in the concluding chapter of this volume. So
much stress, however, has been placed on interpreta-
tions of the sonnets, and these have so often occupied
an exaggerated place in his biography, that it may be
worth while to remark that whether these lyrical poems
are genuine and personal or are conventional and literary,
and whether they make the poet more clearly dis-
cernible or not, they must certainly be taken not alone
by themselves, but in connection with the dramas as
affording us an impression of the man who wrote them.

of tty Bonnets? 49

Of the sonnets, it may be said in almost the same
words just now used of the documents and traditions,
that whether they contain much or little to illuminate
the vast intellect and soaring imagination which created
Hamlet and Lear, they contain nothing irreconcilable
with the personality which these creations imply rather
than reveal.

CHAPTER III

SHAKESPEARE'S READING

WE have called the present chapter "Shakespeare's
Reading" rather than "The Learning of Shakespeare,"
because, apart from the famous line in which Ben
Jonson stated that the poet had "small Latin and less \
Greek," it is evident from the allusions throughout
the plays that Shakespeare was a reader rather than • >
tla scholar. In other words, he used books for what M
Interested him; he did not study them for complete
mastery ; and many and varied as are the traces of his
literary interests, they have the air of being detached
fragments that have stuck in a plastic and retentive
mind, not pieces of systematic erudition. It is true
that many books have been written to show that
Shakespeare had the knowledge of a professional in
law, medicine, navigation, theology, conveyancing,
hunting and hawking, horsemanship, politics, and
other fields; but such works are usually the products
of enthusiasts in single subjects, who are apt to forget
how much a man of acute mind and keen observation V
can pick up of a technical matter that interests him
for the time, and how intelligently he can use it. The
cross-examination of an expert witness by an able
lawyer is an everyday illustration ; and in the litera-
50

51

ture of our own day this kind of versatility is strikingly
exemplified in the work of such a writer as Mr. Kipling.

How Shakespeare learned to read and write his own
itongue we do not know ; that he did learn hardly needs
'to be argued. The free grammar school at Stratford-
on-Avon, like other schools of its type, was named from
its function of teaching Latin grammar ; and we may
make what is known of the curricula of such schools
in the sixteenth century the basis for our inferences as
to what Shakespeare learned there.

The accidence, with which the course began, was
studied in Lily's Grammar, and clear echoes of this
well-known work are heard in the conversation between
Sir Hugh Evans and William Page in The Merry Wives
of Windsor, IV. i, in 1 Henry IV, II. i. 104, in Much Ado,

IV. i. 22, in Love's Labour's Lost, IV. ii. 82 (and perhaps,

V. i. 10 and 84), in Twelfth Night, II. iii. 2, in The Taming
of the Shrew, I. i. 167, — a line of Terence altered by
Lily, — and in Titus Andronicus, IV. ii. 20-23, where
Demetrius reads two lines from Horace, and Chiron says,

O, 'tis a verse in Horace ; I know it well.
I read it in the grammar long ago.

Such fragments of Latin as we find in the dialogue
between Holofernes and Nathaniel in Love's Labour's
Lost, IV. ii, and V. i, are probably due to some elemen-
tary phrase-book no longer to be identified. It is to
be noted how prominently this early comedy figures
in the list of evidences of his school-day memories.

52 tlttie 5Fact$ about

Among the first pieces of connected Latin prose
read in the Elizabethan schools was JEsop's Fables, a
collection which, after centuries of rewriting and re-
compiling for adults, had come in the sixteenth century
to be regarded chiefly as a school-book, but allusions
to which are everywhere to be found in the literature
of the day. In 2 Henry VI, III. i. 343, and Richard

II, III. ii. 129, we find references to the fable of
"The Countryman and a Snake"; in 2 Henry VI,

III. i. 69, and Timon of Athens, II. i. 28, to " The Crow
in Borrowed Feathers " ; in 2 Henry VI, III. i. 77, to
" The Wolf in the Sheep's Skin " ; in King John, II. i.
139, to " The Ass in the Lion's Skin " ; in Henry V, IV.
iii. 91, to "The Hunter and the Bear"; in As You
Like It, I. i. 87, to " The Dog that Lost his Teeth " ;
in All's Well, II. i. 71, to " The Fox and the Grapes " ;
besides a number of slighter and less definite allusions.
The most detailed fable in Shakespeare, that of " The
Belly and the Members," in Coriolanus, I. i. 99, is de-
rived, not from &sop, but from Plutarch's Life of
Coriolanus.

The traces of the well-known collection of sayings
from various writers called Sententics Pueriles, and
of the so-called Distichs of Goto, both of which were
commonly read in the second and third years, are only
slight. Battista Spagnuoli Mantuanus, whose Eclogues,
written about 1500, had become a text-book, is honored
with explicit mention as well as quotation in Love's
Labour's Lost, IV. ii. 95. Cicero, who was read from

53

the fourth'year, has left his mark on only a phrase or
two, in spite of his importance in Renaissance culture ;
but Ovid is much more important. The motto on
the title-page of Venus and Adonis is from the Amores,
and the matter of the poem is from Metamorphoses, X.
519 ff., with features from the stories of Hermaphroditus
and Salmacis (Meta. IV. 285 ff.), and the hunting in
Calydon (Meta. VIII. 270 ff.). Ovid is quoted in Latin
in three early plays; and even where a translation
was available, the phrasing of Shakespeare's allusions
sometimes shows knowledge of the original. Most of
Ovid had been translated into English before Shake-
speare began to write, and Golding's version of the
Metamorphoses (1567) was used for the references to
the Actseon myth in A Midsummer-Night's Dream,

IV. i. 107 ff., and for a famous passage in The Tempest,

V. i. 33. Livy, who had been translated in 1545
according to Malone, seems to have been the chief
source of Lucrece, with some aid from Ovid's Fasti, II.
721 ff. Among other Ovidian allusions are those to
the story of Philomela, so pervasive in Titus Androni-
cus; to the Medea myth in four or five passages; to
Narcissus and Echo, Phaeton, Niobe, Hercules, and a
score more of the familiar names of classical mythology.
Pyramus and Thisbe Shakespeare may have read about
in Chaucer as well as in Ovid, but Bottom's treatment
of this story in A Midsummer-Night's Dream gives but
a slight basis for proving literary relations.

Virgil followed Ovid in the fifth year, and with Virgil,

54 3Hje 3Fact0 about g>i)afte0peare

Terence. Of direct knowledge of the latter the plays
bear no trace, but of the former there seems to be an
influence in the description of the painting of Troy in
Lucrece, 1366 ff., and in two short Latin sentences in
2 Henry VI, II. i. 24, and IV. i. 117. Horace, Plautus,
Juvenal, Persius, and Seneca were the new authors
taken up in the last years in school. All the Horace in
the plays may have been taken from other works, like
the passage already quoted from Lily's Grammar.
Juvenal and Persius have left no mark. The Mencechmi
and Amphitruo of Plautus furnish the basis for The
Comedy of Errors, and no English translation of either
of these is known before that of the Mencechmi in
1595, which some critics think Shakespeare may have
seen in manuscript. But no verbal similarities confirm
this conjecture, and there is no reason why the dramatist
should not have known both plays at first hand.

The influence of Seneca is dramatically the most im-
portant among the classical authors. All the plays
that go by his name had been translated into English
in the first part of Elizabeth's reign ; he was the main
channel through which the forms of classical tragedy
reached the Renaissance ; and when Shakespeare began
to write he was the dominant force in the field of
tragedy. This makes it hard to say whether the
Senecan features in Titus Andronicus, Richard III,
and even Hamlet, are due to Seneca directly, or to the
tradition already well established among Shakespeare's
earlier contemporaries.

of Spooling 55

The impression which the evidence from the text-
books as a whole leaves on one is that Shakespeare
took from school enough Latin to handle an occasional Nr
quotation.1 and to extract the plot of a play, but that
he probably preferred to use a translation when one
was to be had. The slight acquaintance shown with
authors not always read at school, Caesar, Livy, Lucan,
and Pliny, does not materially alter this impression.
Much more conclusive as to the effect of his Latin
training than the literary allusions are the numerous
words of Latin origin either corned by Shakespeare, or
used in such a way as to imply a knowledge of their
derivation. The discovery of a lost translation may
modify our views as to whether a particular author
was used by him in the original, but the evidence from
his use of Romance words gives clear proof that his
schooling was no unimportant element hi his mastery
of speech.

Greek was occasionally begun in the Elizabethan
grammar school, but we do not know whether this
was the case in Stratford. Certainly we have no
reason to believe that Shakespeare could read Greek,
as all his knowledge of Greek authors could have been
obtained from translations, and only two Greek words,
misanthropes and threnos, occur in his writings. Yet
no single author was so important in providing material
for the plays as the Greek Plutarch. His Lives of
Julius Caesar, Marcus Brutus, Marcus Antonius, and

1 See the list in the appendix to Schmidt's Lexicon.

56 tElie JFacts; about

Gains Martins Coriolanus, in Sir Thomas North's
translation, are the direct sources of the great Roman
tragedies, and in a less important way the Lives of
Antonius and Alcibiades were used in Timon of Athens.
Homeric elements are discoverable in Troilus and
Cressida, which derives mainly from the medieval
tradition. As the Trojan story was already familiar
on the stage, these need not have come from Chap-
man's Homer. The knowledge of Lucian which seems
implied in Timon was probably not gained from the
Greek original. The late Greek romances, which
were popular in translation, may have been read by
Shakespeare, since the reference to the "Egyptian
thief" in Twelfth Night, V. i. 120, is from the JEthiopica
of Heliodorus, translated in 1569. Attempts have been
made by the assembling of parallel passages to prove a
knowledge of Greek tragedy on the part of Shakespeare,
but such parallelisms are more naturally explained as
coincidences arising from the treatment of analogous
themes and situations.

Of modern languages, French was the easiest for
an Elizabethan Englishman to acquire, and the French
v passages and scenes in Henry V make it fairly certain
that Shakespeare had a working knowledge of this
tongue. Yet, as in the case of Latin, he seems to
have preferred a translation to an original when he
could find it. Montaigne, whose influence some have
found pervasive in Shakespeare, he certainly used in
Gonzalo's account of his ideal commonwealth in The

anD ^Italian 57

Tempesty II. i. 143 ff., but it seems that he employed
Florio's translation here. Rabelais's Gargantua is
explicitly mentioned in As You Like It, III, ii. 238,
and the great humorist is possibly the inspirer of
some of Sir Andrew's nonsense in Twelfth Night, II. iii.
23. Many of the Sonnets contain reminiscences of
the French sonneteers of the sixteenth century, and
it is thought that in some cases Shakespeare shows
direct acquaintance with Ronsard. He was thus ac-
quainted with the three greatest French writers of
his century, and French may well have been the
medium through which he reached authors in other
languages.

The class of Italian literature with which Shake-
speare shows most acquaintance is that of the novelle, \
though there is no proof that he could read the Ian- '
guage. The Decameron of Boccaccio contains the love-
story of Cymbeline, though there may have been an
intermediary; the plot of All's Well came from the
same collection, but had been translated by Painter in
his Palace of Pleasure; and the story of the caskets
in Thz Merchant of Venice is found in a form closer to
Shakespeare's in the English translation of the Gesta
Romanorum than in the Decameron. Thus we cannot
conclude that the poet knew this work as a whole.
Similarly with Bandello and Cinthio. The plot of
Much Ado is found in the former, and is translated by
Belleforest into French, but at least one detail seems
to come from Ariosto, and here again an intermediary

58 W$t jFacts about

is commonly conjectured. The novel from Cinthio's
Hecatommithi which formed the basis of Othello existed
in a French translation; and his form of the plot of
Measure for Measure came to Shakespeare through the
English dramatic version of George Whetstone. The
version of the bond story in The Merchant of Venice
closest to the play is in II Pecorone of Sir Giovanni
Florentine, but the tale is widespread. Incidents in
The Merry Wives have sources or parallels in the same
work, in Straparola's Piacevoli Notti, and in Bandello,
but in both cases English versions were available. A
mass of Italian and French prototypes lies behind the
plot of Twelfth Night, but most of the details are to be
found in the English Apolonius and Silla of Barnabe
Riche, and there is reason to conjecture a lost English
play on the subject. The Taming of the Shrew, based
on an extant older play, draws also on Gascoigne's
version of Ariosto's I Suppositi; and the echoes of
Petrarch in the Sonnets may well have come through
French and English imitators. The introduction of
stock types from the Italian drama, such as the pedant
and the braggart-soldier, can be accounted for by the
previous knowledge of these in England, and does not
imply a first-hand reading of Italian literature. The
negative position is still stronger in the case of Spanish,
where the use of episodes from George of Montemayor's
Diana in The Two Gentlemen, Twelfth Night, and A
Midsummer-Night's Dream, can be supposed to be due
to the author's having access to Yonge's translation in

59

manuscript, especially since there is no other trace of
Spanish influence.

The conclusion with regard to Italian and Spanish,
then, seems to be that Shakespeare in his search for i
plots was aware of the riches of the novelle, but that V
he found what he wanted as a rule in English or
French versions; and that we have no evidence of
his knowledge of anything but fiction from these
literatures.

Turning now to English, we find Shakespeare's
knowledge of books in his own tongue beginning after
the Conquest. The romances of the Middle Ages were
in the Elizabethan time rapidly undergoing the process
of degradation that was soon to end in the chap-books,
but the material was still widely known. The particular
versions read by the dramatist can rarely be determined
on account of the slight nature of most of the references,
but we find allusions to the Arthurian romances, to
Guy of Warwick, Bevis of Hampton, The Squire of Low
Degree, Roland and Oliver, and to Huon of Bordeaux,
from which last came the name of Oberon as king
of the fairies. Among popular ballads, those of
Robin Hood are frequently alluded to; the story of
King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid appears in no fewer
than five plays ; Hamlet knew a ballad on Jephtha's
daughter, and Sir Toby one on the chaste Susanna.
A large number of popular songs appear in fragments ;
and rimes and spells, current jests and anecdotes, com-
bine with the fairy-lore of A Midsummer-Night's Dream,

60 W Fact£ about

Romeo and Juliet, and The Merry Wives to assure us
that Shakespeare was thoroughly versed in the litera-
ture and traditions of the people.

His acquaintance with more formal letters begins
with Chaucer, whose Knight's Tale contributed some
details to A Midsummer -Night's Dream, and the main
plot of The Two Noble Kinsmen, in which Shakespeare is
now usually supposed to have had a hand. This story
had, however, been already dramatized by Richard
Edwardes. More certainly direct is his knowledge of
Chaucer's Troilus, which, with Caxton's Recuyell of
the Historyes of Troye, is the main source of Troilus
and Cressida. The references to the leprosy of Cressida
are due to Henryson's Testament of Creseide, a Scots
sequel to Chaucer's poem, printed in the sixteenth cen-
tury editions of the older poet's works In the Legend
of Good Women he may have found the story of Pyramus,
and a version of the tragedy of Lucrece, to supplement
his main sources in Livy and Ovid Chaucer's con-
temporary Gower contributed to his stock the story of
Florent (Taming of the Shrew, I. ii. 69) from the Confessio
Amantis, and from the same collection a version of the
tale of Apollonius of Tyre, dramatized by Shakespeare
and another in Pericles.

With the non-dramatic literature produced by Shake-
speare's contemporaries, we naturally find most evidence
of his acquaintance in the case of those books which
provided material for his plays. Thus the otherwise
obscure Arthur Brooke, whose poem Romeus and Juliet

Contemporary literature 61

is the chief source of the tragedy, is much more promi-
nent in such an enumeration as the present than he
probably was in Shakespeare's view of the literature
of the day. Painter, whose version of the same story
in his Palace of Pleasure cannot be shown to have been
used much, if at all, by the dramatist, seems neverthe-
less to have been known to him ; and we hardly need
evidence that Shakespeare must have kept a watchful
eye on similar collections of stories, such as Whetstone's,
Riche's, and Pettie's. Of the greater writers of imag-
inative literature there is none missing from the list of
those he knew, though, as has been implied, the evi-
dence is not always proportionate to the greatness;
and some prominent figures in other fields, such as
Hooker and Bacon, do not appear. Spenser, who is
supposed to have alluded to Shakespeare in Colin Clout's
come home again and, less probably, in The Teares of
the Muses, is in turn alluded to in A Midsummer-Night's
Dream, V. i. 52 ; and his version of the story of Lear in
The Faerie Queene, II. x, is believed to have given Shake-
speare his form of the name Cordelia. Evidence is more
abundant in the case of Sir Philip Sidney. The under-
plot of King Lear is based on the story of the blind king
of Paphlagonia in the Arcadia, and Sidney's sonnets,
along with those of Daniel, Drayton, Constable, Wat-
son, and Barnes, formed the main channel through which
the French and Italian influences reached Shakespeare's.
However we may estimate the original element in his
sonnets, and in our opinion it is very great, there is no

63 tEie 5Fact$ about

question of the author's having had a thorough familiar-
ity with contemporary sonnetteers.

Similarly we can be certain that he had read many of
the elaborate narrative poems then in vogue, a class to
which he contributed Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, and
A Lover's Complaint. Daniel's Rosamond and Mar-
lowe's Hero and Leander especially have left many
traces, and Daniel's Barons' Wars is intimately related
to Richard II and Henry IV. The longer prose fictions
of the time he also watched, and Lyly's Euphues con-
tributed the germ of a number of passages, as Lodge's
Rosalynde and Greene's Pandosto supplied the plots of
As You Like It and The Winter's Tale respectively.

Reference has already been made to his knowledge
of folk beliefs about fairies. To this should be added
other supernatural beliefs, especially as to ghosts, devils,
and witches, evidence of his familiarity with which will
occur to every one. Matters of this sort were much dis-
cussed in his time, the frequency of ghosts in Senecan
plays having made them conspicuous in Elizabethan
imitations, and religious controversy having stimulated
interest in demonology. Several important books ap-
peared on the subject, and one of these at least Shake-
speare read, Harsnett's Declaration of Egregious Popish
Impostures, for from it Edgar, as Poor Tom in King
Lear, derived many of the names and phrases which
occur in his pretended ravings.

The most useful book in all his reading, if we judge
by the amount of his work that is based on it, was

Contemporary 2Drama 63

the second edition of the Chronicles of England, Scot-
land, and Ireland, compiled by Raphael Holinshed.
With it he used the work by Hall on The Union of Lan-
caster and York, the Chronicles of Grafton and of Fabyan,
and the Annals of John Stowe. On these were based the
greater number of the historical plays, Macbeth, and the
political part of Cymbeline. In the case of Henry VIII
there should be added the Acts and Monuments, better
known as the Book of Martyrs, of John Foxe.

To deal adequately with Shakespeare's reading in the
plays of his time would be to write a history of the
Elizabethan drama. Older dramatists, like Preston,
Gascoigne, and Whetstone, he knew, for he quotes
Cambyses, and from the two last he derives material for
the plots of The Taming of the Shrew and Measure for
Measure. Anonymous writers supplied the older plays
on which he based King John, King Lear, and Hamlet,
parts of Henry V and VI, and of Richard III, and
probably others. Allusions prove a familiarity with
all of Marlowe's dramas ; Hamlet is indebted to the
tradition of which Kyd was one of the founders ; Lyly
taught him much in the handling of light comic dialogue ;
and he quotes lines from Peele. Greene's contribution
is less specifically marked ; but Shakespeare's profession
of acting, as well as that of play-writing, of necessity
made him acquainted with the whole dramatic produc-
tion of the time. Thus, as has been stated in a previous
chapter, he acted in several of Jonson's plays, and a good
case has been made out for his modelling his last

comedies on the new successes of Beaumont and
Fletcher.

No Englishman of that day was insensible to what
was going on in exploration and conquest of the Western
World; and in The Tempest, Othello, and other plays
we have clear ground for stating that Shakespeare
shared this interest, and read books like Eden's History
of Travayle in the West and East Indies, Raleigh's Dis-
coverie of Guiana, and such pamphlets as were used in
the vast compilation of Richard Hakluyt. The scientific
knowledge implied in the plays reflects current beliefs,
and must have been derived from such works as Pliny,
Batman uppon Bartholome his Booke De Proprietatibus
Rerum, and from conversation.

Finally, Shakespeare knew his Bible. Several vol-
umes have been written to exhibit the extent of this
knowledge, and it has been shown by Anders that he
knew both the Genevan and the Great Bible, as well
as the Prayer Book.

Taken all together, the amount of literature indicated
by this summary account of the evidences in the plays
\ and poems abundantly proves the statement that
Shakespeare, if not a scholar, was a man of wide and
varied reading. When it is further considered that only
a fraction of what any author reads leaves a mark
that can be identified on what he writes, we shall readily
allow that in the matter of study Shakespeare showed an
activity and receptivity of mind that harmonizes with
the impression received from his creative work.

10 Hratung Apical 65

It agrees with our impressions of him derived from
other sources also, that his reading reflects not so much
idiosyncrasies of taste as the prevalent literary interests \/
of the day. Thus in Latin literature the most con-
spicuous author among general readers, as distinguished
from scholars, was Ovid, whose romantic narratives
appealed to a time which reveled in tales gathered from
all quarters; and this same prominence of Ovid has
been shown to exist among the classical authors known to
the dramatist. Similarly his use of chronicles like that
of Holinshed merely reflects a widespread interest in
national history ; and Shakespeare shared the popular
interest in the translations of novelle and the like that
poured in from the Continent. The age of Elizabeth
was an age of great expansion in reading — especially
in the literature of entertainment. For the first time
since the introduction of printing the people were free
to indulge in books as a recreation, and the enormous
growth of publishing in this era indicates the response
to the new demand. In all this Shakespeare took part,
and the evidences appear in his works so far as the
nature of their themes permitted it. But the drama
gave no opportunity for anything but passing allusions
to scientific, philosophical, and religious matters, so
that direct evidence is lacking as to how far Shakespeare
was acquainted with what was being written in these
fields. On the other hand, the profundity of his insight
into human motive and behavior, the evidences of pro-
longed and severe meditation on human life and the
F

66 1K\)t jfacts about

ways of the world, and the richness of the philosophical
generalizations that lie just below the surface of his
greater plays, make it difficult to believe that in these
fields also he did not join in the intellectual activity of
his day.

CHAPTER IV

CHRONOLOGY AND DEVELOPMENT

THE value of a knowledge of the order in which an
author's works were composed no longer needs to be
argued. The development of power and skill which
such knowledge reveals is an important part of biog-
raphy, and an individual work is more surely inter-
preted when we know the period and the circumstances
of the author's life in which it was written, and what
other works, by himself and his fellows, lie nearest
in point of time. Without a knowledge of chronol-
ogy, the indebtedness of contemporary authors to one
another and the growth of literary forms cannot be
determined.

The fact, so often to be insisted upon, that at the
beginning of Shakespeare's career stage plays were
hardly regarded as literature at all and were not pub-
lished by their authors, deprives us of the evidence
usually afforded by date of publication. We are thus
forced to have recourse to a variety of more or less
casually recorded data, and to indications of differences
of maturity in style and matter which are often
much less clear than could be wished. Before giving
the results of the research that has been pursued for
a century and a half, it will be worth while to enumerate
67

68 ®ty ,#act0 about

the most fruitful methods which have been employed,
and the sorts of evidence available.

Of jpurely external evidence, the chief kinds are these :
records of the performance of .plays in letters, diaries,
accounts, and the like; quotation, allustbn, imitation,
or parJSy in other works ; entries in the books of the
^Master of the Revels at Court, and in the Register of
the Stationers' Company ; dates on the title-pages of
the plays themselves; facis and trachTions about the
life of the author; dates in the lives of actors and in
the careers of companies known to have performed the
plays, and in the histories of theaters in which they
were presented. Instances of some of these are the
manuscript which tells of a performance of The Comedy
of Errors at Gray's Inn in 1594 ; the diary of the quack,
Dr. Simon Forman, who witnessed performances of
Macbeth, Cymbeline, and The Winter's Tale at the
Globe in 1610 and 1611 ; the appreciation of Shake-
speare, with a list of a dozen plays by him, in the Pal-
ladis Tamia1 of Francis Meres, 1598; and the pam-
phlets on Somers's voyage to Virginia, which offered
suggestions for The Tempest.

Partly external and partly internal are the evidences
derived from allusions in the plays to current events.
personal or .^political, such as the reference in the
Prologue to Henry V to the expedition of Essex
to Ireland in 1599 ; references to other books, like the
quotation from Marlowe in As You Like It, III. v. 82 ;
1 See Appendix A, 13.

of dfctnomce 69

references from one play of Shakespeare's to another,
like the promise in the Epilogue to 2 Henry IV to
"continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make
you merry with fair Katherine of France."

The purely Jnjgrnal evidence is seldom as specific
as the external, and requires to be handled with much
judgment and caution. Most difficult in this class
is the weighing of considerations of a moral or esthetic
nature; for, though these are often powerful in their
effect on the individual reader, they are usually in-
capable of proof to another person with different
tastes and a different point of view. Of such tests,
those afforded by a study of the methods used in the
treatment of plot and in the development. nf r]\^.n\.o±^T
are perhaps the least subjective. Somewhat more
palpable are the changing pharflptpn'fifrjc«a nf «t.y1p>.
number and nature of classicaTallusions and Latin

words and quotations ; *the kind and degree of elabora-
tion of figures of speech, puns, conceits, and the like;

xiiffuseness or concentration in the expression of thought ;

vcrtificiality or lif elikeness in the treatment of dialogue ;
Dhfc use of prose or verse ; xne employment of oaths,
checked by statute shortly after the accession of
ftamra J : these are the main aspects of style which
can be used in determining, not exact dates, but the
period of Shakespeare's activity within which a given
work falls. More capable of mechanical calculation
than the tests of either matter or style are those de-
rived from changes in /yprsifjffttion, though here too

70 tKtie jFacts about

there is often a subjective element in the reckoning.
The more important metrical tests include the follow-
ing : the frequency ™f rliy^n^ whether in the heroic
couplet or, as not uncommonly occurs in early plays,
in alternates and even such elaborate arrangements
as the sonnet; doggerel lines; alexandnnjesj^orjlines
of twelve syllables ; the presence oTan extra syllable
before a pause within the line ; short-lines, especially
at the end of speeches; the substitution of other feet
for the regular iambic movement of blank verse;
weak and light endings ; and, most valuable, the position
01 the pause in the line ("end-stopped" or "run on"),
and feminine endings or hypermetrical lines, such as

" These many summers in a sea of glor-y."

Many of these variable features were not consciously
manipulated by the author ; and, even when a general
drift in a certain direction is clearly observable in his
practice with regard to them, it is not to be assumed
that his progress was perfectly regular, without leaps
forward and occasional returns to an earlier usage.
It is to be noted also that the subject and atmosphere
of a particular play might induce a metrical treatment
of a special kind, in which case the verse tests would
yield evidence not primarily chronological at all.
Nevertheless, when all allowances have been made and
all due caution exercised, it will be found that the in-
dications of the versification corroborate and supple-
ment the external evidences in a valuable way.

Metrical

TABLE I

CD

fc

CH

0

tt

s

oo W

B

|

W

•

|

W [H

§ £ W
&] -_ 55

lgs

H

1

II

H

ll*

K

Sga

Mg«

6 9g

H3

£

m>

W W

&««

&>£

fe^

*iB!

S3w

L. L. L. .

2789

1086

579

1028

7.7

18.4

10.0

3

C. of E. .

1770

240

1150

380

16.6

12.9

0.6

0

T. G. V. - .

2060

409

1510

116

18.4

12.4

5.8

0

R. Ill . .

3599

55

3374

170

19.5

13.1

2.9

4

K. J. . .

2553

0

2403

150

6.3

17.7

12.7

7

R. & J. .

3002/

4pgj

9.1 y.

4.Effi,

<&«2

JJL2

UA-

_7

M. N. D. .

2251

441

878

731

7.3

13.2

17.3

1

R. II. . .

2644

0

2107

537

11.0

19.9

7.3

4

Merch. .

2705

673

1896

93

17.6

21.5

22.2

7

1 Hy. IV .

3170

1464

1622

84

5.1

22.8

14.2

7

2 Hy. IV .

3437

186Q<

1417

74

16.3

21.4

16.8

1

M. W. W. .

3018

2703

227

69

27.2

20.1

20.5

1

Hy. V . .

3320

1531

1678

101

20.5

21.8

18.3

2

M. Ado .

2823

2106

643

40

22.9

19.3

20.7

2

J. C. . .

2440

165

2241

34

19.7

19.3

20.3

10

A. Y. L. I.

2904

1681

925

71

25.5

17.1

21.6

2

T. N. . .

2684

1741

763

120

25.6

14.7

36.3

4

T. & C. .

3423

1186

2025

196

23.8

27.4

31.3

6

A. W. W. .

2981

1453

1234

280

29.4

28.4

74.0

13g0K

Hml. . .

3924

1208

2490

81

22.6

23.1

51.6,

~8

Meas. . .

2809

1134

1574

73

26.1

23.0

51.4

7

Oth. . .

3324

541

2672

86

28.1

19.5

41.4

2

Lear . .

3298

903

2238

74

28.5

29.3

60.9

6

Mcb. . .

1993

158

1588

118

26.3

36.6

77.2

23,

A. & C. .

3064

^EJ.EL

27<\t

42

26.5,

433

77 Ji.

-99_

Cor. .' .

3392

829

2521

42

28.4

45.9

79.0'

104

Gym. . .

3448

638

2505

107

30.7

46.0

85.0

130

W. T. '. .

2750

844

1825

0

32.9

37.5

87.6

100

Tmp. . .

2068

458

1458

2

35.4

41.5

84.5

67

Jracts about feljafeeepeare

TABLE II

COLLABOKATED PLAYS

§

K

0

ft

<o 3

|

d
fc

1*

«^g

55
O

w ^

W o 5

•J 1C

§

M g

< |

j H W

P to

o& %

ll

I

•J W

II

Sll

SI

ill

III

1 Hy. VI

2693

0

2379

314

8.2

10.4

0.5

4

2 Hy. VI

3032

448

2562

122

13.7

11.4

1.1

3

3 Hy. VI

2904

0

2749

155

13.7

9.5

0.9

3

T. And.

2525

43

2338

144

8.6

12.0

2.5

5

T. of S.

2671

516

1971

169

17.7

8.1

3.6

14

T. of A.

2358

596

1560

184

24.7

32.5

62.8

30 (S)

Per. .

2386

418

1436

225

20.2

18.2

71.0

82 (S)

Hy. VIII

2754

67

2613

16

47.3

46.3

72.4

84(8)

T. N. K.

2734

179

2468

54

43.7

The accompanying Tables l give the detailed results
of investigations along these lines, and a study of the
data therein contained will reveal both their possi-
bilities and their limitations. In Tables I and II the
order of the plays is approximately that of the dates of
their composition (virtually the same as the dates of
first performance). The second and third columns
cannot be regarded as giving any clue to chronology,
except that they show that in the dramas written
under the influence of Marlowe prose is comparatively

1 The figures here given are based in columns 1, 2, 3, and 4
on the calculations of Fleay ; in 5, 6, and 7 on those of Konig ;
and in 8 on those of Ingram. (S) «= Shakespeare's scenes.

73

rare. Elsewhere Shakespeare employed prose for a
variety of purposes : for low comedv. as in the tavern
scenes in Henry IV, and the scenes in which Sir Toby
figures in Twelfth Night; forjrepartee, as in the wit-
combats of Beatrice and Benedick ; for purely jntellec-
tual and moralizing speeches, such as Hamlet's over
the skull of Yorick. On the other hand, highly emotional
scenes are usually hi verse, as are romantic passages
like the conversation of Lorenzo and Jessica in the
moonlight at Belmont, or the dialogues of Fenton and
Anne Page, which contrast with the realistic prose of
the rest of the Merry Wives and also the artificial pas-
toralism of Silvius and Phoebe in As You Like It. Few
absolute rules can be laid down in the matter, but study
of Shakespeare's practice reveals an admirable tact
in his choice of medium.

The frequency of rhyme, as shown in the fourth
column, has more relation to date. While there is no
very steady gradation, it is clear that in his earlier
lays he used rhyme freely, while at the close of his
career he had practically abandoned it. The large
number of rhymes in A Midsummer-Night's Dream and
Romeo and Juliet is accounted for mainly by the pre-
vailing lyrical tone of a great part of these plays, while,
on the other hand, in All's Well it probably points
to survivals of an earlier first form of this comedy.
It ought to be noted that, in the figures given here,
the rhyming lines in the play scene in Hamlet, the
vision in Cymbeline, the masque in The Tempest, and

74 Qty jFacts about £>ljafce0peare

the Prologue and Epilogue of Henry VIII are not
reckoned.,

More significant are the percentages in columns
five, six, and seven. Before l^&S, feminine endings
never reach twenty per cent of the total number of
mentameter lines ; after that date they are practically
/always above that number, and show a fairly steady
•increase to the thirty-five per cent of The Tempest.
/The variations of run-on lines (which, of course, carry
/with them the frequency of pauses within the line,
land inversely the growing rarity of end-stopped
yines) are closely parallel to those of the feminine
endings ; while the increase in the proportion of speeches
^ading jwitjiin the line is still niijTe—slrilang. In The
Comedy of Errors this phenomenon hardly occurs at all ;
in The Tempest it happens in over eighty-four per cent
of the speeches, the increase being especially regular
after 1598. Yet in some cases other causes are opera-
tive. Thus cuts and revisions of plays were apt to
leave broken lines at the ends of speeches, and the
comparatively high percentages in Love's Labour's
Lost, Romeo and Juliet, and All's Well are probably in
part due to these causes.

The phenomena recorded in the last column are
peculiar. Previous to the date of Macbeth it appears
that Shakespeare practically avoided ending a line
with light or weak words such as prepositions. Qonjjjnjc-
tious, and auxiliary verbs, but that from about 1606
to the "end he employed them in proportions ranging

of (Error 75

from 3.53 per cent in Antony and Cleopatra to 7.14
per cent in his part of Henry VIII.

The figures for plays not wholly written by Shake-
speare are naturally less significant, and have therefore
been given separately; yet, on the whole, they show
the same general tendencies in the use of meter.

It will be observed that while the developments
suggested by the different columns are fairly consistent,
they do not absolutely agree in any two cases, and
can obviously be used, as has been said, only to corrob-
orate other evidence in placing a play in a period,
not to fix a precise year. Further, in the calculations
involved, there are many doubtful cases calling for
the exercise of individual judgment, especially as to
what constitutes a run-on line, or a light or weak
ending. Thus Professor Bradley differs from Konig
in several cases as to the figures given in the seventh
column, counting the percentage of speeches ending
within the line as 57 for Hamlet, 54 for Othello, 69 for
King Lear, and 75 for Macbeth. For Acts III, IV, and
V of Pericles, the 71 per cent is Bradley's, for which
Konig's 17.1 is clearly a mistake. Serious as are such
discrepancies, and suggestive of a need for a general
re-counting of all the more significant phenomena, they
are not so great as to shake the faith of any scholar
who has seriously studied the matter in the usefulness
of metrical tests as an aid in the settling of the chro-
nology.

76

about g>ijafee$peare

TABLE III

PEBIODS
I

II

COMEDIES

HISTORIES

TRAGEDIES

L. L. L. 1591
C. of E. 1591
T. G. of V. 1591-2

1 Hy. VI 1590-1
2 Hy. VI 1590-2
3 Hy. VI 1590-2
R. Ill 1593
K. J. 1593

T. And. 1593-4

M. N. D. 1594-5
M. of V. 1595-6
T. of S. 1596-7
M. W. of W. 1598
M. Ado 1599
A. Y. L. 1. 1599-1600
Tw. N. 1601

R. II 1595

1 Hy. IV 1597
2 Hy. IV 1598
Hy. V 1599

R. and J. 1594-5
J. Cses. 1599

III

T. & C. 1601-2
A. Well 1602
Meas. 1603

Per. 1607-8

Ham. 1602, 1603
Oth. 1604
Lear 1605-6
Macb. 1606
T. of Ath. 1607
A. & Cl. 1607-8
Cor. 1609

IV

Cymb. 1610
W. Tale 1611
Temp. 1611
T. N. K 1612-13

Hy. VIII 1612

Table III gives a summary of the results of all the
kinds of evidence available as recorded in the introduc-
tion to individual plays in the Tudor Shakespeare. The

77

classification into Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies
draws attention at once to the changes in the type
of drama on which Shakespeare concentrated his
main attention, and suggests the usual division of
his activity into four periods. In the first of these,
extending from the beginning of his writing (perhaps
earlier than 1590) to the end of 1593, he attempted
practically all the forms of drama then in vogue.
Plays which were given him to revise, or in which he
was invited to collaborate, may naturally be supposed
to have preceded independent efforts, and his still
undetermined share in Henry VI is usually regarded
as his earliest dramatic production. What he learned
in this field of tragic history from his more experi-
enced fellows may be seen in Richard III, in which
he can be observed following in the footsteps of Marlowe
in the treatment of meter, in the rhetorical and lyrical
nature of the dialogue, and in the conception of the
central character. Even less of his individual quality
is to be discerned in the field of tragedy, for the most
that can be claimed for him in Titus Andronicus is
the re-combination of the repellent episodes of that
crude specimen of the tragedy of blood, and the re-
writing of the lines which occasionally cloak the horrors
with passages of poetry. If, as is unlikely, the first
form of Romeo and Juliet was written in this period,
the extant form must show it so radically revised that
it leaves us little ground for generalization as to his
power in tragedy in this first period.

78 &ty JFacts about

!lt was in comedy that Shakespeare first showed
originality. Love's Labour's Lost is one of the few plays
whose plots seem to have been due to his own inven-
tion; and full of sparkle and grace as it is, it bears
obvious marks of the tour de force, the young writer's
conscious testing of his powers in social satire, in comic
situation, and most of all in verbal mastery and the
manipulation of dialogue. In The Comedy of Errors
he had the advantage of a definite model in the well-
defined type of the Plautian comedy; but here again
in the doubling of the twins and the elaboration of
the entanglements there are traces of the beginner's
delight in technic for its own sake. The clearly con-
trasted types in the two pairs of heroes and heroines
of The Two Gentlemen of Verona point to a conscious
effort in characterization, as the author's attention
had been concentrated on dialogue and on situation
in the other two comedies of this group. Thus, re-
garding the variety of kind and the nature of his
achievement in these first eight or nine plays, we can
hardly fail to acquiesce in the general opinion that
views the first period as one of experiment.

The chronicle history was the Elizabethan dramatic
form whose possibilities were first exhausted. King
John had been only a making over of an earlier work,
and perhaps the most significant single change Shake-
speare made was the excision of the anti-Romanist
bias which in the older play had made John a Protestant
hero. Yet this history voices, too, in the speeches of

79

Faulconbridge, that patriotic enthusiasm which finds
fuller expression in the dying Gaunt's eulogy of England
in Richard II, and culminates in the triumphant heroics
of Henry V. This national enthusiasm, especially
ebullient in the years following the Great Armada,
is justly to be regarded as an important condition of
the flourishing of these plays on English history ; and
it is natural to suppose that the ebbing of this spirit
in the closing years of Elizabeth's reign is not un-
connected with the decline of this dramatic type.
There are, however, other causes clearly perceptible.
The material was nearly exhausted. Almost every
prominent national figure for the three hundred years
before the founding of the Tudor dynasty had been
put upon the stage ; and to come down to more recent
times was to meddle with matters of controversy,
the ashes of which were not yet cold. The reign of
Henry VIII was not touched till after the death of
Elizabeth, and the nature of the treatment given to
the court of her father by Shakespeare and Fletcher
corroborates our view. Further, the growing mastery
of technic which is so clearly perceptible in the
comedies of the second period must have been ac-
companied by a restlessness under the hampering
conditions as to the manipulation of character and
plot which were imposed by the less plastic material
of the chronicles. Some effort towards greater freedom
the dramatist made in the later histories. The earlier
plays of this class had been prevailingly tragic ; but

8o Wt IFactsf about

now he supplemented and enlivened the political
element with the comic scenes which gave us Falstaff ;
yet these scenes, brilliant as they are in dialogue and
superb in characterization, are of necessity little more
than episodes. The form had served its purpose as an
outlet for national feeling, but it was now outgrown.
So distinguished, however, is Shakespeare's achieve-
ment in this kind that we might be almost justified
in calling this second period that of the culmination
of the chronicle history.

The main objection to this title lies in his contempo-
rary accomplishment in comedy. A Midsummer-
Night's Dream and The Merchant of Venice, the one in
its graceful poetic fancy and dainty lyricism, the other
in its balanced treatment of all the elements of dramatic
effectiveness — action, character, and dialogue, —
exhibit the dramatist in complete control of his techni-
cal instruments, the creator of masterpieces of romantic
comedy. The Taming of the Shrew is a more or less
perfunctory revision, probably in collaboration, of
an older farce comedy; The Merry Wives of Windsor
bears on its face corroboration of the tradition that it
was written to order in a fortnight. The power in
high comedy first fully shown in The Merchant of
Venice reaches its supreme pitch in the three plays
composed at the turn of the century, Much Ado about
Nothing, As You Like It, and Twelfth Night. In each
of these a romantic love-tale, laid in some remote
holiday world, is taken up, given a specific atmosphere,

|DertoD 81

acted out by a group of delightful creations who are
endowed with intellect, wit, and natural affection,
bathed in poetic imagination, and yet handled with
sufficient naturalism to awaken and hold our human
sympathies. No more purely delightful form of dra-
matic art has ever been contrived ; none has ever been
treated so as to yield more fully its appropriate charm ;
so that in view of the completeness of the artist's
success we are bound to call the period which closed
with the first year of the seventeenth century the tri-
umph of comedy.

Julius Caesar, the first of the plays dealing with
Roman history, may have been written before 1600,
but, whether it preceded Hamlet by one year or three,
it forms a gradual introduction to the group of the great
tragedies. Masterly as it is in its delineation of types,
rich in political wisdom and the knowledge of human
nature, splendid in rhetoric, it still fails to rise to the
intensity of passion that marks the succeeding dramas.
In Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, and Macbeth, Shakespeare
at length faced the great fundamental forces that
operate in individual, family, and social life, realized
especially those that make for moral and physical
disaster, took account alike of the deepest tendencies
in character and of the mystery of external fate or
accident, exhibited these in action and reaction, in
their simplicity and their complexity, and wrought out
a series of spectacles of the pity and terror of human
suffering and human sin without parallel in the modern

82 {[ntje 5Fact$ about

world. In these stupendous tragedies he availed
himself of all the powers with which he was endowed
and all the skill which he had acquired. His verse
has liberated itself from the formalism and monotony
that had marked it in the earlier plays, and is now
free, varied, responsive to every mood and every
type of passion; the language is laden almost to the
breaking point with the weight of thought ; the dialogue
ranges from the lightest irony to heart-rending pathos
and intolerable denunciation; the characters lose all
semblance of artificial creations and challenge criticism
and analysis like any personage in history ; the action
is pregnant with the profoundest significance. Hardly,
if at all, less powerful are the later tragedies of the
Roman group. Antony and Cleopatra is unsurpassed
for the intensity of its picture of passion, for its superb
mastery of language, for its relentless truth. The
more somber scenes of Coriolanus convey a tragedy
which either on its personal or its political side scarcely
yields to its predecessors in poignancy and gloom.
Whatever else he may have written in these years,
here is surely the period of tragedy.

Nor do the plays classed as comedies and falling in
the first three years of the new century seriously modify
this impression of the prevailing tone of the period.
Troilus and Cressida, All's Well that Ends Well, and
Measure for Measure present a marked contrast to the
romantic comedy of the preceding stage. The love-
story of the first deals with a coquette and ends sordidly ;

jfourrt) ^rioD 83

while in the political plot, though it gives occasion for
speeches full of weighty thinking, jealousy and intrigue
overwhelm the heroic element. The second, alone of
Shakespeare's comedies, has a hero who is a rake ; and,
skilful as is the delineation of Helena, it needs all the
dramatist's power to hold our sympathy and to force
us to an unwilling assent to the title. Measure for
Measure has its scene laid in a city seething in moral
corruption : out of this rises the central situation of
the play;, and the presence of the most idealistic of
Shakespeare's heroines does not avail to counter-
balance the atmosphere of sin and death that mocks
the conventional happy ending, and makes this play,
even more than the two others, seem more in place
among the tragedies than among the comedies.

The plays of the last period are, in the Folio, classed
with comedies, and such no doubt they are if judged
merely by the nature of their denouements. But if
we consider their characteristic note, and the fact that
through the greater part of each play the forces and
passions involved are rather those operative in tragedy
than in comedy, we easily perceive why they have
been classed as tragi-comedies or dramatic romances.
Pericles in many respects stands apart from the other
three in nature as well as in date, for it is a dramatiza-
tion of an old Greek romance, and in it the hand of
another than Shakespeare is only too evident. Yet
it shares with the others certain common features:
like The Tempest it has scenes at sea ; all four deal with

84 f&ty 5Fact$ about

the separation and reuniting of families; all show us
sympathetic figures deeply wronged and finally over-
coming their injurers by forgiveness. The abounding
high spirits of the earlier comedies are here replaced
by a mood of calm assurance of the ultimate triumph
of good and a placid faith that survives a rude acquaint-
ance with the evil that is in men's hearts. No period
has a more distinctive quality than this of the dramatic
romances, in which the dramatist, on the eve of his
retirement from London, gave his imagination free
play, and in both character and action stamped his
last creations with the mark of a lofty idealism.

The obvious fitness of this fourfold division into
periods inevitably raises the question of its causes, and
attempts at an answer have run along two main lines.
One of these has been followed out with much eloquence
and persuasiveness by Professor Dowden, whose phrases
"In the Workshop," "In the World," "In the Depths,"
"On the Heights," to describe the four periods, point
clearly enough to the kind of significance which he finds
in the changes in mood and type of play. With the
first of these phrases few will be disposed to quarrel.
In his period of experiment Shakespeare's style was
as yet comparatively unformed, and his attention
was so much occupied with problems of technic that
even the most psychological of critics finds here little
revelation of personality, and must be content to
describe the stage as one of professional apprenticeship.
In the terms used of the three later periods, however,

^Interpretation of period 85

there is an implication that the tone and mood of the
plays in each are the direct reflection of the emotional
experiences through which the poet himself was passing
at the period of their composition. But this is to
take for granted a theory of the relation between
artist and production which has against it the general
testimony of creator and critic alike. It is not at the
pitch of an emotional experience that an artist success-
fully transmutes his life into art, but in retrospect,
when his recollective imagination reproduces his mood
in a form capable of being expressed without being
dissipated. Of course, Shakespeare must have lived
and enjoyed and suffered intensely ; but this does not
commit us to a belief in an immediate turning to account
of personal experience in the writing of drama. His
boy, Hamnet, died in 1596, about the time that he was
writing The Merchant of Venice and the rollicking farce
of The Taming of the Shrew, and just before he conceived
Falstaff; it was fourteen years later that he gave us
the pathetic figure of the young Mamillius in The
Winter's Tale. From all we know of his personal life,
the years of King Lear and Othello were years of abound-
ing prosperity. The lacrimce rerum that touch the
mind in these stupendous tragedies are the outcome
of profound meditation and vivid imagination, not the
accompaniment of a cry of instant pain. However we are
to reconstruct the spiritual biography of Shakespeare, it
is clear that it is by no such simple reading of his life
in terms of his treatment of comic or tragic themes.

jpacts about

The other line of explanation will suggest itself to
any thoughtful student who contemplates the facts
summed up in Chapter V on the Elizabethan drama.
Whatever Shakespeare's preeminence in the quality
of his work, he was not singular for innovations in
kind. Not only are the plays of his experimental stage
preceded by models easily discerned, but throughout his
career one can see him eagerly taking up and developing
varieties of drama on which less capable men had
stumbled and for which the public had shown relish.
Chronicle history, romantic comedy, tragedies of blood
and revenge, dramatic romance, had all been invented
by others, and Shakespeare never hesitated to follow
their trail when it promised to lead to popular success.
This does not mean that he did not put conscience into
his work, but only that the change in type of play
perceptible from period to period is more safely to be
explained by changes of theatrical fashion and public
taste than by conjectures as to the inner life of the
dramatist. Nor are we prevented from finding here
too that great good fortune as to occasion and oppor-
tunity that is needed, along with whatever natural
endowment, to explain the achievement of Shakespeare.
The return of the vogue of tragedy after he had attained
maturity and seen life was indeed happy for him and
for us; as was the rise of the imaginative type of
dramatic romance when the storm and stress of his
youth had gone by. Had the theatrical demand
called for tragedy when Shakespeare was in the early

2Date$ of tlje JjDonns? 87

thirties and light comedy when he was in the forties,
it seems likely that he would have responded to the
demand, though we can hardly suppose that the
result would have been as fortunate as in the existing
state of things it proved to be.

The foregoing discussion has been confined to
Shakespeare's plays; the poems present problems of
their own. Venus and Adonis (1593) and Lucrece
(1594), indeed, resemble the plays of the first period,
with which they are contemporary, both in conforming
to a familiar type then much in vogue, the re-telling
in ornate style of classical legends drawn chiefly from
Ovid, and in exhibiting marks of the conscious exercise
of technical dexterity. They show the Shakespeare of
the dramas mainly in their revelation of a remarkable
power of detailed observation and their richness of
phrase and fluency of versification. Vivid and eloquent
though they are, they can hardly be regarded as afford-
ing a sure prophecy of the passion and power of charac-
terization that mark his mature dramatic production.

The case of the Sonnets is very different. From
Meres's mention of them in 1598 we know that some
had been written and were being circulated in manu-
script by that date, and certain critics have sought to
assign the main body of them to the first half of the last
decade of the sixteenth century. But they were not
published till 1609, and many of the greatest strike
a note of emotion more profound than can be heard
before the date of Hamlet. In writing them, Shake-

88 ®fy jFacts? about

speare was, to be sure, following a vogue, but as Pro-
fessor Alden has pointed out in his introduction to them
in the Tudor Shakespeare, they stand apart in important
respects from the ordinary sonnet sequences of the time.
All our researches have failed to tell us to whom they
were addressed, if, indeed, they were addressed to any
actual person at all; it is hardly necessary to urge
that Shakespeare was capable of profound and passion-
ate utterance under the impulse of imagination alone.
The probability is that they were produced at intervals
over a period of perhaps a dozen years, and that they
represent a great variety of moods, impulses, and
suggestions. While some of them betray signs of
youth and remind us of the apprentice workman of
Loves Labour's Lost, others display in their depth
of thought, intensity of feeling, and superb power of
incisive and concentrated expression, the full maturity
of the man and the artist. Hardly in the great tragedies
themselves is there clearer proof of Shakespeare's
supremacy in thought and language.

CHAPTER V

THE ELIZABETHAN DRAMA

SHAKESPEARE'S lifetime was coincident with a period
of extraordinary activity and achievement in the
drama. By the date of his birth Europe was witnessing
the passing of the religious drama that had held its
course for some five centuries, and the creation of new
and mixed forms under the incentive of classical
tragedy and comedy These new forms were at first
mainly written by scholars and performed by amateurs,
but in England, as everywhere else in western Europe,
the growth of a class of professional actors was threat-
ening to make the drama popular, whether it should be
new or old, classical or medieval, literary or farcical.
Court, school, organizations of amateurs, and the
strolling actors were all rivals in supplying a wide-
spread desire for dramatic entertainment ; and no boy
who went to a grammar school could be ignorant that
the drama was a form of literature which gave glory to
Greece and Rome and might yet bestow its laurels on
England.

When Shakespeare was twelve years old the first

public playhouse was built hi London. For a time

literature held aloof from this public stage. Plays

aiming at literary distinction were written for schools

89

po tfttje jfacttf about

or court, or for the choir boys of St. Paul's and the
royal chapel, who, however, gave plays in public as well
as at court. But the professional companies prospered
in their permanent theaters, and university men with
literary ambitions were quick to turn to these theaters
as offering a means of livelihood. By the time that
Shakespeare was twenty-five, Lyly, Peele, and Greene
had made comedies that were at once popular and lit-
erary; Kyd had written a tragedy that crowded the
pit; and Marlowe had brought poetry and genius
to triumph on the common stage — where they had
played no part since the death of Euripides. A native
literary drama had been created, its alliance with the
public playhouses established, and at least some of its
great traditions had been begun.

The development of the Elizabethan drama for the
next twenty-five years is of exceptional interest to
students of literary history, for in this brief period, in
connection with the half-dozen theaters of a growing
city and the demands of its varied population, we may
trace the beginning, growth, florescence, and decay of
many kinds of plays, and of many great careers.
Actors, audiences, and dramatists all contributed to
changes in taste and practice and to a development of
unexampled rapidity and variety. In every detail of
dramatic art there was change and improvement, a
constant addition of new subject-matter, a mastery of
new methods of technic, and an invention of new kinds
of plays. The popular successes of Marlowe and Kyd

SDrama 91

and the early plays of Shakespeare himself seemed old-
fashioned and crude to the taste of twenty years after,
yet the triumphs of Shakespeare's maturity failed to
exhaust the opportunities for innovation and advance.
We are amazed to-day at the mere number of plays
produced, as well as by the number of dramatists writing
at the same time for this London of two hundred thou-
sand inhabitants. To realize how great was the
dramatic activity, we must remember further that
hosts of plays have been lost, and that probably there
is no author of note whose entire work has survived.
By the time, however, that Shakespeare withdrew
from London to Stratford the drama had reached its
height. The dozen years from 1600 to 1612 included
not only Shakespeare's great tragedies, but the best
plays of Jonson, Chapman, and Webster, and the
entire collaboration of Beaumont and Fletcher. The
only other decades comparable with this in the history
of the drama are that which heard plays by Sophocles,
Euripides, and Aristophanes and that other which saw
the masterpieces of Racine and Moliere.

The greatness of the drama, however, by no means
ended with the retirement and death of Shakespeare.
Some of those who had been his early associates con-
tinued to write for the stage, and younger men, as
Fletcher, Massinger, ^ord, and Shirley, carried on the
traditions of their predecessors. If, as in other forms
of literature, there was decline and decadence during
the next twenty-five years, the drama also retained

92 We$ iFacts about

initiative, poetry, and intellectual force until the end.
It was not dead or dying when the outbreak of the Civil
War cut short its course ; in fact, its plays, its traditions,
even some of its theaters, actors, and dramatists sur-
vived the suppression of twenty years and helped to
start the drama of the Restoration. Had Shakespeare
lived to the age of seventy-eight he would have seen the
closing of the theaters, and his lifetime would have
covered the crowded history of the drama's develop-
ment from such semi-moralities as Cambises and The
Nice Wanton to the last plays of Massinger and Shirley.
For nearly a quarter of a century he was a sharer in
this dramatic movement, working in London as actor,
manager, and playwright. While no playwright was
more desirous than he to find in the stage full opportu-
nity for his genius, he was as keen as any in gauging the
immediate theatrical demand and in meeting the vary-
ing conditions of a highly competitive profession. As
we have already noted, he began by imitating those who
had won success, and to the end he was adroit in taking
advantage of a new dramatic fashion or discovery.
Like his fellows, he often took his plots from novels,
histories, or other narratives; but his very choice of
stories might be determined by the theatrical taste of
the moment, and in his treatment of those stories he
shows in person, situation, or scene, a consideration of
current practices, traditions, and conventions. In
every field of literature, a writer is conditioned by the
work of his predecessors and contemporaries, and this

»8tnning0 of tty jBDrama 93

dependence on current taste is especially important
in the drama, where practice tends to fix itself in con-
vention, and where innovation to be successful requires
cooperation from the actors and approval from the
audience as well as genius from the author. Though
Shakespeare is for all time, he is part and parcel of the
Elizabethan drama. If his plays are Elizabethan in
their defects and limitations, such as their trivial puns
and word-play, their overcrowded imagery, their loose
and broken structure, their paucity of female roles,
their mixture of comic and tragic, their reliance on dis-
guise and mistaken identity as motives, their use of
improbable or absurd stories ; they are Elizabethan also
hi the qualities of their greatness, their variety of sub-
ject, their intense interest in the portrayal of character,
the flexibility and audacity of their language, their noble
and opulent verse, the exquisite idealism of their
romantic love, and their profound analysis of the
sources of human tragedy.

The Elizabethan drama was a continuation of the
medieval drama transformed by the influence of classical
models, especially the comedies of Terence and Plautus
and the tragedies of Seneca. In England, by the
beginning of the sixteenth century, the Miracle and
Mystery plays were declining and were soon to dis-
appear. The most common type of drama for the next
sixty years was the Morality, which symbolized life as
a conflict of vices and virtues or of the body and the
soul. The drama was rapidly changing from long

94 tC^e Jfactg about

out-door performances to brief plays that could be
given almost anywhere by a few actors. The term
Interludes became common for all such entertainments,
and allegorical frameworks served to contain a wide
variety of matter, farce, pedagogy, politics, religion,
history, or pageant. Close imitations of the classical
forms were soon attempted by scholars and men of
letters; but as the professional actors grew in impor-
tance the development of a national comedy and tragedy
went on without much direction from critics or theo-
rists, but rather in response to the demands of actors
and audiences and to the initiative of authors.

The developments of comedy were numerous. Alle-
gory gradually disappeared, and the Morality ceased
to exist as a definite type, though its symbolization of
life and its concern with conduct were handed along to
the later drama. The plays of Robert Wilson, about
1580, show an interesting use of allegory for the pur-
poses of social satire, and realism and satire long con-
tinued to characterize Elizabethan comedy, though for
a time confined mostly to incidental scenes. Common
and incidental also was farce, which is found in most
plays of the century whether tragic, comic, or moral
in their main purpose. Further, it was soon discovered
that the Plautian scheme of comedy was well suited to
farcical incident, as in Gammer Gurton's Needle (1552) .l
The classical models or their Italian imitations also pro-

1 In this chapter the dates appended to the plays indicate
the conjectured year of presentation. Dates of publication are
prefixed by pr.

^Influence of iplautus? 95

duced other and less domestic imitations, as in Gas-
coigne's translation of Ariosto's / Suppositi (pr. 1566)
and Udall's Ralph Roister Doister (1540) ; a little later,
Lyly's Mother Bombie, Munday's Two Italian Gentle-
men, and Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors. Indeed such
adaptations continued much later and resulted in some
of the best farces, or realistic comedies of intrigue, as
Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor (1598), Hey-
wood's Wise Woman of Hogsdon (1604), Jonson's
Epicene (1609) and Alchemist (1610).

The Plautian model, however, was far more influ-
ential than can be indicated by these close adaptations
or by any list of direct imitations or borrowings. For
the Elizabethan it offered a standard of comedy, and its
plots, persons, and devices were freely used in all kinds
of plays, romantic as. well as realistic, sentimental as
well as satirical or farcical. The plots of Plautus and
Terence offer a series of tricks in which the complica-
tions are often increased by having the trickster tricked.
Certain fixed types of character play the parts of gulls
or gullers, as the old parents, the young lovers, the
parasite, the braggart soldier, and the clever slave.
The intrigue is forwarded by the use of disguise, mis-
taken identity, and most surprising coincidences ; and
it is accomplished by dialogue, often gross and abusive,
but usually lively. This model served every nation
of western Europe, reappearing with prolonged vitality
in the inventions of Lope de Vega, the " commedia del
arte" of Italy, and in the masterpieces of Moliere.

96 <Eltf J^acts about

Much in its scheme that seems artificial and theatrical
to-day was, we must remember, accepted without
question by Europe of the sixteenth century as essential
and desirable in comedy, especially in realistic comedy
of intrigue or manners.

The plots of Terence, notably that of the Andria,
also gave some encouragement to the modern fondness
for adventure and sentimental love, and some classical
sanction to the abundant romantic material that was
knocking at the doors of comedy. If by romantic we
mean what is strange and removed from ordinary
experience and what has the attractions of wonder,
thrill, and idealization, then for the Elizabethan the
world of romance was a wide one. It included the
medieval stories of knights and their gests, and also
the fresher tales of classical mythology ; the Americas
and Indies of contemporary adventure and the artificial
Arcadias of humanist imitators of Virgil and Theocritus.
Ovid and Malory, Homer and Boccaccio, Drake and
Sanazzaro, were all contributors. The union of this
romance with comedy on the stage began in two ways,
and principally under the innovation of two writers,
Lyly and Greene.

The taste for pageants, processions, and tableaux
grew and flourished under the patronage of the court ;
and music, dancing, and spectacle were combined with
dialogue in various court exhibitions and plays given by
the child actors. John Lyly, writing for these choir
boys, developed this type of entertainment into a dis-

an& Greene 97

tinct species of comedy. Of his eight plays, written at
intervals from 1580 to 1593, all but one were in prose,
and all except the Plautian Mother Bombie adhere
loosely to a common formula. Classical myth or story,
with pastoral elements, and occasionally an allegory
of contemporary politics, furnish the basis of plots with
similar love complications. Gods, goddesses, nymphs,
fairies, and many others add to the spectacle and mingle
in the love intrigue, and all rise to a graceful dialogue,
which quickens to brisk repartee when the pages or
servants appear. The witty page supersedes the rude
buffoon of earlier plays, and everything is graceful and
ingenious, slight in serious interest, but relieved by
movement and song.

This is the form of comedy which Shakespeare
adopted for Love's Labour's Lost and perfected in A Mid-
summer-Night's Dream. But Lyly's contribution should
not be defined merely by this type of drama, original
as it is in its departure from medieval or classical
precedents. He showed how comedy might be a courtly
and literary entertainment and also the playground of
fancy and wit.

The second development of romantic comedy came
through the dramatization of stories of love, adventure,
and marvels. To such stories Robert Greene gave a
heightened charm through the idealization of his
heroines. His Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay (1590)
is a magic play with an historical setting; but the
interest gathers and centers on the love story of Mar-

98 t!fl)e jfactsf about

garet, the Keeper's daughter. In James IV (c. 1591)
the pseudo-historical setting frames the stories of the
noble Ida and the wronged but faithful Dorothea.
In the incidents of the plot, with its woman disguised
as a page, the faithless lover, and the final reconciliation,
and also in the sweetness, modesty, and loyalty of the
heroine, the play reminds us of Shakespeare's comedies
and is indeed very close to The Two Gentlemen of
Verona, in which he was clearly adopting Greene's
formula.

Tragedy naturally lagged somewhat behind comedy
as a form of popular entertainment. So far as we can
judge from the extant plays, there was until the appear-
ance of Kyd and Marlowe no real union between
Senecan imitations like Gorboduc (156ty,Jocasta (1566),
and The Misfortunes of Arthur (1588), on the one hand,
and popular medleys of morality, tragedy, and farce
like Cambises (1565), Horestes (pr. 1567), and Appius and
Virginia (1563), on the other. Marlowe's Tamburlaine
(1587) was an epoch-making play because it brought
to the popular drama true poetry and genuine passion ;
but it and its successors also established a new type
of tragedy. Marlowe made no effort to retain the
structure or themes of classical tragedy; on the con-
trary, he made his plays loosely connected series of
scenes dealing with the life and death of the hero,
crowded with persons and with startling action. In
this he was conforming to the method of the dramatic
narratives that pleased the theaters. But each play

ana i^u 99

centers its dramatic interest on a mighty protagonist
battling with his overweening desires and their inevi-
table disappointment. With the spectacle and sensa-
tion, the rant and absurdity, there is also dramatic
structure and tragic significance in the revelation of
these protagonists, their volitional struggles, and
their direful catastrophes. These plays set the key
for all Elizabethan tragedy, including Shakespeare's
Lear, Othello, and Macbeth. They were immediately
followed by dozens of imitators. All blank verse echoed
Marlowe's mighty line, and tragedy was filled with
ranting conquerors like Tamburlaine, monstrous vil-
lains like Barabbas, and murders like that of Edward II.
Shakespeare was his pupil in the 2 and 3 Henry VI,
mastered his methods in Richard III, and still wrote in
emulation, though no longer in imitation, in Richard II
and The Merchant of Venice.

Within a few months of Tamburlaine, appeared a play
of almost equal influence on subsequent drama, Kyd's
Spanish Tragedy. Kyd was a student of Seneca, a
translator of Garnier's Cornelia, a Senecan imitation ;
and he adapted some elements of classical tragedy to
the English stage. The ten plays ascribed to Seneca
were the accepted models of tragedy in the Renaissance.
Their presentation of the more horrible stories of Greek
tragedy, their rhetorical and aphoristic style, their
moralizing and their psychology, were all greatly
admired. They were believed by the Elizabethans to
have been acted, and their murders and violence seemed

ioo tElje jfacts about

to warrant such action on the modern stage; though
the Elizabethans found less adaptable their use of the
chorus, the restriction of the number of persons speak-
ing, their long monologues, and the limitation of the
action to the last phase of a story. Kyd modeled his
rhetoric on Seneca and retained a vestige of the chorus,
long soliloquies, and some other traits of Senecan
structure; but his main borrowing was the essential
story of a crime and its punishment. He thus brought
to the Elizabethan stage the classical theme of retribu-
tion. In his Spanish Tragedy, a murder is avenged
under the direction of a ghost, by a hesitating and solilo-
quizing protagonist, who is driven through doubt and
speculation almost to madness, and then to craft, with
which he outwits the wily villain and brings all the
leading dramatis persona to a final slaughter.

Blood revenge was established as the favorite motive
of tragedy; the conflict of craft between protagonist
and villain made up the action, and the speculations of
the avenger gave a chance for wisdom and eloquence.
One other play, probably by Kyd, the lost Hamlet,
also presented these features and later formed the basis
for Shakespeare's tragedy. Other plays, as Soliman
and Perseda, The True Tragedy of Richard III, and
Locrine immediately adopted Kyd's theme and technic ;
indeed the stage for half a dozen years abounded in
avenging heroes, diabolical villains, shrieking ghosts,
and long soliloquies on fate, death, retribution, and
kindred themes. Titus Andronicus is quite in the

101

Kydian vein. Many plays combined the salient traits
of Marlowe and Kyd, and henceforth, no one wrote
tragedy without paying homage to their inventions.

We have now noticed the most important develop-
ments in comedy and tragedy made by the time that
Shakespeare began writing for the theaters; and he
made quick use of the progress accomplished by
Plautian and Lylyan comedy, by Greene's romances,
and by the tragedies of Kyd and Marlowe. There
were other plays not easily classified under these names
and of less service to Shakespeare. But to the
critical playgoer of 1590 few plays would have seemed
either 'right comedies' or 'right tragedies.' The ma-
jority were mere dramatizations of story without close
construction or selection of material, seeking merely
varied and abundant action. They drew their material
from all kinds of narrative sources, Italian novelle,
current pamphlets, Latin historians, or English chron-
icles ; and, whether historical or fictitious, were usually
known as Histories, i.e., stories.

The patriotic interest in English history fostered
the presentation of its scenes upon the stage. The
chronicles of Halle and Holinshed furnished abundant
material ; and embassies, processions, and pitched bat-
tles filled the stage with movement. Historical plays
might, indeed, draw from classical history or from cur-
rent foreign history, but from 1590 to 1603 a very large
number of plays give scenic representation to the
reigns of English kings.

about

Some of these form a distinct class, since, however
mixed with comic matter, they imitate Kyd or Marlowe
and recast the chronicle of a reign to fit the accepted
subjects of tragedy, the downfall of a prince, the
revenge for a crime, the overthrow of a tyrant, or the
retribution brought upon a conspirator or usurper.
Conceived under Marlowe's influence, and perhaps
owing something to his hand, is the tetralogy that
includes the three parts of Henry VI and Richard III.

Those history plays, however, that do not follow the
formulas for tragedy, are a heterogeneous group not
easily classified. They usually keep to the loose chron-
icle method that presented a series of scenes without
much regard to unity or coherence. Farce, comedy,
magic, spectacle, heroics, and everything that might
have happened was permissible in these plays, and
perhaps the only thing indispensable was a pitched
field with opposing armies. Biographical, comic,
popular, patriotic, or what not, these plays brought a
variety of scenes to the theaters, but offered only a
loose and flexible form rather than any dramatic
direction or model to the creator of Falstaff.

The early deaths of Greene and Marlowe and the
retirement of Lyly left Shakespeare the heir of their
inventions. Though his plays were at first imitative,
he soon surpassed his predecessors in gift of expres-
sion, in depiction of character, and in deftness of
dramatic technic. The years from 1593 to near the
turn of the century are particularly lacking in records of

103

plays or theaters; but it seems clear that the main
developments of the drama were in romantic comedy
and chronicle history ; and it is also clear that Shake-
speare was the unquestioned leader in both of these
forms.

In comparison with his associates, he was now the
master, relying on his own experience rather than on
their innovations. Neither the crude but popular
Mucedorus (1595) nor Dekker's poetical extravagance,
Old Fortunatus (1596), could contribute to his develop-
ment of romantic comedy ; and domestic comedy could
not instruct the inventor of Launce and Launcelot.
Incidental relationships may indeed be noted. As
You Like It, for example, dramatizes a pastoral novel
with the addition of scenes that recall Robin Hood's
forest life, and may owe something to the suggestion of
two Robin Hood plays by Chettle and Munday, The
Downfall and Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon (1598).
But, on the whole, the indebtedness was on the other
side, and imitations indicate that men of Shakespeare's
day realized that romantic comedy and history could
not be carried farther.

In fact, a certain reaction set in against these forms
of drama. Near the close of the century new ten-
dencies became manifest. Comedy tended to become
more realistic and satiric. Chapman, Marston, Mid-
ctleton, and Jonson, all began writing romantic comedy,
but changed shortly to realistic. Jonson, in his Every
Man in His Humour (1598), announced his opposition

104 tElje 5Fact$ about

to the lawless drama which had preceded — whether
romantic comedy or chronicle history — and proposed
the creation of a new satirical comedy of manners. He
was moved partly by a desire to break from past
methods in order to bring comedy closer to classical
example, and partly by a desire for realism, a faithful
presentation, analysis, and criticism of current manners.
The growth of London and the increase in luxury and
immorality seem to have encouraged such a movement,
and for the decade after 1598 there were many come-
dies of London life, mostly satiric, and nearly all
realistic. Many varieties are to be found, from gross
representation of the seamy side of city life to serious
discussion of social questions, and from sympathetic
picturing of certain trades to satiric exposure of the
evils of society.

Jonson's emulation of Aristophanes led him into
arrogant personal satire in the Poetaster (1601), and
there ensued the so-called war of the theaters, in which
Marston, Dekker, and, according to report, Shakespeare
were Jonson's opponents. If Shakespeare, indeed, had
a share in this war, he showed only slight interest in the
prevailing comedy. Measure for Measure uses the
device of a spying duke employed in Marston's Mal-
content, and discusses sexual relationships somewhat in
the tone of the time, while the scenes dealing with
houses of ill fame are not unlike similar scenes in the
contemporary plays of Middleton, Webster, and others.
Trottus and Cressida, also, show more of a satiric temper

Eealtetic Cornet^ 105

than is usual in Shakespeare. But neither of these
plays partakes to any extent of the prevailing satire on
contemporary London. Wide as was the range of
Shakespeare's genius, it seems to have avoided the field
of satire.

A review of the drama must, however, at least re-
mark the importance of this development of realistic
comedy which flourished in the decade after 1598 and
continued to the end. Jonson's comedy of * humors'
includes Volpone (1605), which overstepped the bounds
of comedy in its denunciation of evil, the Alchemist
(1611), perhaps the best English play on the Latin
model, and Bartholomew Fair (1614), most original and
English of them all. Dekker's fine drama of middle
class life, The Honest Whore (1604), and Heywood's
masterpiece, A Woman Killed with Kindness (1603), a
play suggesting both the sentimental comedy of the
eighteenth century and the problem play of to-day,
also belong to this very remarkable era of domestic
themes and serious realism.

If Shakespeare did not turn to satire or realism or
current social problems, he did turn away from chronicle
history plays and romantic comedies. As we saw in
the last chapter, for a period of eight or nine years, from
Julius Ccesar to Antony and Cleopatra, he gave his best
efforts of his maturity to tragedy. The day for
mere imitation of Seneca, Kyd, or Marlowe, was past ;
and scholars like Jonson and Chapman as well as
Shakespeare sought in the tragedy of the public theaters

io6 Wqt jfacts about £>ijakespeare

an opportunity for wisdom and poetry and a criticism
of life.

For models, Shakespeare did not need to go back
farther than his own Romeo and Juliet and Richard 77,
nor to imitate any other than himself. Yet his great
plays may have seemed to his contemporaries to adopt
rather than to depart from current dramatic practices.
They belong to the Elizabethan 'tragedy of blood';
against a background of courts and battles they present
the downfall of princes ; they rest on improbable stories
that end in fearful slaughter ; they invariably set forth
great crimes, compact of murder, lust, villainous
intrigue, and ferocious cruelty. Some of them follow
Kyd in recounting a story of blood vengeance presided
over by ghosts, or discover the retribution due for crime
in physical torments. Nearly all follow Marlowe in
centering the tragic interest in the fate of a supernormal
protagonist who is swayed by an overpowering emotion,
and in elevating these human desires and passions into
tremendous forces that work their waste of devastation
and ruin on character and life.

The contemporary tragedy is brought closest to
Shakespeare in the relations of the revenge plays to
Hamlet. The type, introduced by Kyd in The Spanish
Tragedy and the original Hamlet, underwent a special
development in Marston's Antonio's Revenge (1598)
and several other plays appearing from 1598 to 1603,
that dealt with the blood vengeance of a son for a
father. At the same time Shakespeare turned to the

107

remaking of the old Hamlet and to* a new treatment of
the old theme, yet retained many of the old accessories.
Marston reproduces the essential story of blood ven-
geance, presided over by a ghost, crossed by both lust
and sentimental love, commented on by long soliloquies,
and accompanied by pretended madness. Chettle, in
Hoffman, amplifies the horrors and villainy and brings
the story of the mad girl into closer juncture with the
main plot than is the case in Hamlet. Tourneur, writing
independently of Shakespeare, introduces, among all
sorts of horrors, a Christian ghost who forbids blood
vengeance and commands submission to Providence.
Ben Jonson, in his additions to the old Spanish Tragedy,
gives fine imaginative interpretation of the wavering
moods of meditation, irony, and frenzy with which
Kyd had dealt only crudely. The later development
of this type proceeded without much regard to Shake-
speare's Hamlet, but rather in the direction started by
Marston's tragedies and his influential tragi-comedy,
The Malcontent. While Hamlet may be described as
centering attention on a meditative and high-minded
avenger, Tourneur, Webster, Middle ton, and later
dramatists found greater interest in the study of villainy
and intrigue. Revenge is born of depravity rather than
duty, and given a setting of physical horrors and unnat-
ural lust. Tourneur's Revenger's Tragedy (1606) and
Webster's White Devil (1610) and Duchess of Malfi (1611)
represent the culmination of this play of revenge, lust,
and horror, and supply a sort of standard for tragedy

io8 Wfyt jFactsf about

until the Civil War. Webster, it must be added, was
hardly less interested than Shakespeare in character
and motive, though he chose to study these in a chamber
of horrors.

Shakespeare's Roman tragedies also suggest compari-
son with contemporary plays, those either on Roman
or on contemporary foreign history. Tragedies dealing
with Roman history had preceded Julius Ccesar, but
that play doubtless stimulated Jonson's Sejanus (1603)
and Catiline (1611). Both these plays attempted an
approach to classical structure and a thorough study
and digest of classical history. This effort to make
tragedy a serious and authoritative interpretation of
history was also shared by Chapman in his plays dealing
with contemporary French history, 1 and 2 Bussy
D'Ambois (1601-1607) and 1 and 2 Biron (1608).
While Jonson strove to free his style from the abun-
dance of conceits, figures, and passages of description that
had characterized earlier drama, Chapman used every
chance to crowd his verse with far-stretched figure and
weighty apothegm. At its worst it is peculiarly repre-
sentative of Elizabethan confusion and bombast; at
its best it is closest of all in its resemblance to Shake-
speare's. Like Jonson and Chapman, Shakespeare
sought historical backgrounds for his characters and
found a fascination in the interpretation of the motives
of the great protagonists of the world of antiquity.
It is worthy of note, however, that he seems to have
taken no interest in another class of subjects much

Beaumont ana IHttcfirr 109

favored by his contemporaries. Contemporary crimes
treated with an excess of realism and didactic con-
clusions are common in drama from Arden of Feversham
(1590) on, and engaged the services of Jonson, Webster,
Ford, Dekker, and others.

About 1607 a new departure appeared in the work of
the dramatic collaborators, Beaumont and Fletcher.
After some experiments, they won, in their tragi-come-
dies, Philaster (1608) and A King and No King (1610),
and their tragedy, The Maid's Tragedy (1609), great
theatrical successes, and in these and similar plays es-
tablished a new kind of dramatic romance. The realis-
tic comedies of Jonson and Middleton, which, along with
the great tragedies of Shakespeare, crowd the stage
history of the preceding ten years, had offered nothing
similar to these romances which joined tragic and
idyllic material in scenes of brilliant theatrical effective-
ness, abounding in transitions from suspense to surprise,
and culminating in telling denouements. This new
realm of romance is an artificial one, contrasting pure
love with horrid entanglements of lust, and ever
bringing love in conflict with duty, friendship, or the
code of honor. In its intriguing courts, or in nearby
forests where the idyls are placed, love of one kind or
another is the ruling and vehement passion, riding
high-handed over tottering thrones, rebellious subjects,
usurping tyrants, and checked, if checked at all, only
by the unexampled force of honor. Romance, in short,
depends on situation, on the artificial but skilful juxta-

no Wt jFacts about

position of emotions and persons, and on the new
technic that sacrifices consistency of characterization
for surprise. Characterization tends to become typical,
and motives tend to be based on fixed conventions, such
as the code of honor might dictate to a seventeenth-
century gentleman ; but the lack of individuality in
character is counterbalanced by the vividness with
which the lovers, tyrants, faithful friends, evil women,
and sentimental heroines are presented, and by the
fluent and lucid style which varies to any emotional
requirement and rises to the demands of the most
sensational situations.

Cymbeline in its plot bears some close resemblances
to Philaster, and it seems likely that Shakespeare was
adopting the methods and materials of the new romance.
At all events, he turned from tragedy to romance, and
in Cymbeline and the far more original and successful
Winter's Tale and Tempest produced tragi-comedies that,
like Beaumont and Fletcher's, rely on a contrast of
tragic and idyllic and on surprising plots and idealized
heroines. After Beaumont's retirement in 1611 or
1612, it seems probable that Fletcher and Shakespeare
collaborated together on Henry VIII and The Two
Noble Kinsmen.

There is ample evidence that the plays of Beaumont
and Fletcher won a great popular renown, surpassing for
a time those of Shakespeare and all others. Beaumont
did not live long after he ceased to write for the stage,
dying at thirty, in the same year as Shakespeare. Jon-

m

son had given up dramatic writing for the time, and
Fletcher was left the chief writer for Shakespeare's old
company and the undoubted leader of the theater.
Including the plays written in collaboration with Beau-
mont, Shakespeare, and later with Massinger, he left
some sixty dramas of many kinds, varying from farcical
comedy of manners to the most extreme tragedy. The
comedies of manners present the affairs of women, and
spice their lively conversation and surprising situations
with a wit that often reminds one of the Restoration ;
indeed they'carry the development of comedy nearly to
the point where Wycherley and Congreve began. The
tragi-comedies, which display the qualities already
noted as belonging to the romances, have the technical
advantage that the disentanglement of their rapid plots
and sub-plots is left hanging in the balance until the
very end. The happy ending to tragic entanglements
won a favor it has never lost on the English stage, and
tragi-comedy of the Fletcherian type continued the most
popular form of the drama until Dryden.

It is unnecessary here to dwell long over the drama
after Shakespeare's death. Jonson, Dekker, Heywood,
and Webster wrote from time to time, and Middleton
devoted his versatile talent to whatever kind of play
was in vogue, now rather to Websterian tragedy and
Fletcherian tragi-comedy than to realistic comedy.
Yet, in collaboration with Rowley, he produced the
powerful tragedy, The Changeling, and the much-
admired tragi-comedy, A Fair Quarrel. After Fletcher's

jfactg about

death in 1625, Massinger took his place as leader of the
stage, and his work, with that of Ford and Shirley, carry
on the great traditions of the drama to the very end.
A host of minor writers, as Brome, D'Avenant, Suckling,
Cartwright, offer little that is new; but no survey of
the drama, however brief, can neglect to mention
the skilful exposition, admirable psychology, and
sound structural principles that characterized the best of
Massinger's many plays, the unique and amazing dra-
matic genius shown in Ford's masterpieces, The Broken
Heart and ' Tis Pity She's a Whore, and the ingenuity in
plot, adroitness in characterization, and genuine poetic
gifts of Shirley.

Comedies from 1616 to 1642 reveal two chief in-
fluences; they are realistic and satiric, following
Jonson, or they are light-hearted, lively combinations
of manners and intrigue, after Fletcher. In the former
class are Massinger's two great comedies, The City
Madam and A New Way to Pay Old Debts. To the
latter class belong most of the comedies of Shirley.
Tragi-comedies follow Fletcher with the variations
due to the authors' ingenuity, and include perhaps the
most attractive plays of Massinger and Shirley. Trage-
dies usually mingle lust, devilish intrigue, physical
horror, after the fashion of Webster and Tourneur, but
now often with romantic variation on the theme of
love, and a technic of suspense and surprise similar
to Beaumont and Fletcher. These are the main ten-
dencies in the last twenty years of the drama, and

ana Spasque 113

characterize in the large the work of the greater men
as well as of the less. Shakespeare's influence is wide-
spread, but appears incidentally in particular scene,
situation, character, or phrase, rather than as affecting
the main course and fashions of the drama. After
the publication of his plays in 1623, this incidental
influence increased, and is distinctly noticeable in the
plays of Ford and Shirley.

A glance must suffice for two dramatic forms that
had only slight connection with the public theaters,
the Pastoral Play and the Court Masque. Pastoral
elements are found in many early entertainments
and in the plays of Lyly and Peele. Later, in imitation
of Guarini's II Pastor Fido, attempts were made to
inaugurate a pastoral drama, presenting a full-fledged
dramatic exposition of the golden age. Daniel's
Queen's Arcadia (1605) and Fletcher's Faithful Shepherd-
ess (1609) had many later followers, but the form won
no permanent hold on the popular taste. Traces
of its influence, however, may often be seen, as in
Shakespeare's As You Like It, or Beaumont and Fletch-
er's Philaster. The masque, originally only a masquer-
ade, soon acquired some dramatic accompaniment,
and in the court of James I developed into an elaborate
form of entertainment. The masked dance of the
ladies and gentlemen of the court was merely the focus
for dialogue, elaborate setting, spectacle, music, and
grotesque dances by professionals. These shows,
costing vast sums for staging, costumes, and music,
i

"4 &ty jFactg about

depended for their success mainly on the architect Inigo
Jones, but in some degree also on Ben Jonson, who was
the creator of the Court Masque as a literary form.
Such expensive spectacles were far beyond the reach
of the public theater, but provoked considerable imita-
tion, as in Shakespeare's Tempest, or several of Beau-
mont and Fletcher's plays. Later Milton immortalized
the form in Comus.

The most hasty review of the Elizabethan drama
must suggest how constantly Shakespeare responded to
its prevailing conditions. There are, of course, great
variations in the signs which different plays offer
of contemporary influence and peculiarity. So it is
with most of his fellow dramatists. Lear and Othello
were perhaps written within the same year, yet Othello,
in its unity, its technical excellence, and its depiction of
character, is the most modern of the tragedies, while
Lear, with its impossible story, its horrors, its treatment
of madness, its likeness to the chronicle plays, its pro-
longed passage from crisis to catastrophe, in its very
conception, is the most Elizabethan, though perhaps
the most impressive of the tragedies. Twelfth Night is
suited to any stage, but Troilus and Cressida and Pericles
are hardly conceivable except on the Elizabethan. De-
spite such variations, however, Shakespeare's relations
to the contemporary drama were manifestly constant
and immediate. If it was rarely a question with him
what the ancients had written, it was always a question
what was being acted and what was successful at the

ana l?te Contemporaries? 115

moment. His own growth in dramatic power goes step
by step with the rapid and varied development of the
drama, and the measure for comparison must be, not by
decades, but by years or months.

A study of the Elizabethan drama may help to excuse
some of the faults and limitations of Shakespeare, but
it also enforces his merits. Both faults and merits
are often to be understood in the efforts of lesser men
to do what he did. We admire his triumphs the more
as we consider their failures. Yet they often had
admirable success, and their triumphs as well as his are
due in part to the dramatic conditions which gave the
freest opportunity for individual initiative in language,
verse, story, and construction. Noble bursts of poetry,
richness and variety of life, an intense interest in human
nature, comic or tragic — these are the great merits of
that drama. That in a superlative degree they are
also the characteristics of Shakespeare is not due solely
to his exceptional genius, but to the fact that his genius
worked in a favorable environment.

n6

$m# about

A TYPICAL SHAKESPEREAN STAGE
From Albright's Shaksperian Stage

CHAPTER VI

THE ELIZABETHAN THEATER

IN 1576, James Burbage, father of the great actor,
Richard Burbage, and himself a member of the Earl
of Leicester's company, built 'the first London play-
house, the Theater in Shoreditch. In the next year a
second playhouse, the Curtain, was erected nearby,
and these seem to have remained the only theaters
until 1587-1588, when probably the Rose, on the Bank-
side, was built by Henslowe. In 1599 Richard and
Cuthbert Burbage, after some difficulty over their
lease, demolished the old Theater and used the timber
for the Globe, near the Rose, on the Bankside. The
Swan, another theater, had been built there in 1594,
somewhat to the west; and in 1614 the Hope was
erected hard by the old Rose and the new Globe, which
in 1613 had replaced the old Globe. Meantime the
Fortune had been built by Henslowe and Alleyn in
1600 in Golden Lane to the north of Cripplegate, on
the model of the Globe, and the Red Bull was erected
in the upper end of St. John's Street about 1603-1607.
These were all public theaters, open to the air, built of
wood, outside the city limits and the jurisdiction of
the city corporation.

117

us W$t jfacttf about

Before the Theater, plays had been acted in various
places about the city, and especially in inn-yards, some
of which long continued to be used for dramatic per-
formances. At an early date also, the companies of
children actors connected with the choirs of St. Paul's
and the Queen's Chapel had given public performances,
probably indoors, at places near St. Paul's and in Black-
friars. When the Burbages were in difficulties about
the Theater, they had leased certain rooms in the dis-
mantled monastery of Blackfriars, but had then re-
leased these to a company of children which acted
there for some years. In 1608 the Burb'ages regained
possession of this property, and Shakespeare's com-
pany began acting there. This Blackfriars theater
was known as a private theater in order to avoid the ap-
plication of certain statutes directed against the public
theaters, but it differed from them merely in being in-
doors, with artificial lights, and higher prices. It was
used by Shakespeare's company as a winter theater,
while the Globe served for summer performances, and
it was the model for various other private theaters,
two of which survived the Protectorate and became in
turn the models for the Restoration Theater. Drury
Lane and Covent Garden, indeed, trace their ancestry
back directly to the Blackfriars through the Cockpit
and the Salisbury Court playhouses.

The companies of actors which occupied these
theaters were cooperative organizations. Eight or ten
actors formed a company, leased a theater, hired super-

Companies? of Actors 119

numeraries, bought plays, and shared in the profits.
In Elizabeth's reign they secured a legal position by
obtaining a license from some nobleman, and so were
known as the Earl of Leicester's men, Lord Admiral's
men, and so on. On the accession of James I, the lead-
ing London companies were taken directly under
patronage of members of the royal family. During
Shakespeare's time there were innumerable companies,
but the tendency was for the best actors to become
associated in a few companies, and for each company
to keep to a particular theater; so that at the acces-
sion of James I, there were only five adult companies in
London with permanent theaters. The best companies
were frequently employed to act at court, and during
the summer or when the plague was raging in London,
they often toured the country. The children's com-
panies flourished from time to time, and especially
from 1599-1607 they were, as we learn from Hamlet,
formidable rivals of the men.

The history of the adult companies shows the growth
of two distinct interests, that of Henslowe and Alleyn,
and that of the Burbages. Henslowe, whose diary is
one of the chief documents for the history of the
theater, built the Rose, and in partnership with his
son-in-law, the famous actor Alleyn, controlled the
Fortune and the Hope, and the companies known as
the Admiral's and the Earl of Worcester's men, and
later on the Queen's and the Prince's men. The Bur-
bages owned the Theater, the Globe, and the Blackfriars,

5Fact0 azotic

and were in control of Shakespeare's company. This
company, at first the Earl of Leicester's men, was known
by the names of its various patrons, Strange's, Derby's,
Hunsdon's, and the Lord Chamberlain's, until in 1603
it became the King's men. For a short time, as Lord
Strange's men, it acted at the Rose, and apparently
later at the playhouse in Newington Butts, but its
regular theaters were the Theater, the Globe, and
Blackfriars. With this company Shakespeare was
connected from the beginning, and he aided in making
it the chief London company. For a time, Alleyn and
the Admiral's men were its close rivals, but even before
the accession of James I, Shakespeare and Burbage
had given it a supremacy that it maintained to the
closing of the theaters.

There are various pictures of the exterior of Eliza-
bethan theaters in the contemporary maps or views of
London, the best representation of the four Bankside
theaters being the engraving of Hollar printed in the
Tudor edition of Twelfth Night. This was first pub-
lished in Londinopolis, 1657, but represents the Bank-
side as it was about 1620. Four pictures of interiors
have been preserved, that from Kirkman's Drolls, those
from the title-pages of Roxana and Messalina, and the
DeWitt drawing of the Swan, reproduced in the Tudor
Shakespeare, 1 Henry VI. The drawing from Kirk-
man's Drolls is usually known as the Red Bull stage,
but it was not issued until 1679, and does not seem
to have anything to do with the Red Bull or with

public theaters? 121

any other regular theater. The Messalina and Roxana
pictures are small, and both show a rear curtain and a
projecting stage. The DeWitt drawing was done from
hearsay evidence, is inaccurate in details, and repre-
sents a theater with a movable stage, probably not
long regularly used for plays; it gives little idea of
the stage, but does afford a good general notion of the
interior of a public theater. The contract for the For-
tune theater, built on the model of the Globe, except
that it was square instead of octagonal, has been pre-
served and enables us to complete this view of the
interior in detail.

The public theaters were usually round, or nearly \/
round, wooden buildings of three stories. These
stories were occupied by tiers of galleries encircling the
pit, which was open to the air. The stage projected
halfway into the pit, and was provided with dressing
rooms in the rear, and a protecting roof overhead,
supported in some cases by pillars. At the top was
the 'hut', a room used to provide apparatus for raising
and lowering persons or properties from the stage.
Light when needed was provided by torches./ Admis-
sion to standing room in the pit was usually only a
penny, but seats in the gallery or boxes or on the stage
cost much more, rising as high as half a crown. Per-
formances were given on every fair day except Sunday,
and a flag flying from the hut indicated that a play
was to be performed. Some of the public playhouses
were used for acrobats, fencing, or even bear-baiting

about

as well as for plays; but the better theaters, as the
Globe and Fortune, seem to have been limited to dra-
matic performances.

The size and arrangement of the stage doubtless
varied somewhat with the different theaters, and con-
siderable changes seem to have been introduced by
the indoor private theaters. But the Curtain was
used from 1577 to 1642, some new theaters were
modeled closely on the old, and the same plays were
acted on different stages, so it is apparent that in all
the stage was the same in its main features. N For clear-
ness these may be again enumerated .^''The stage
was a platform projecting into the pit, open on three
sides, and without any front curtain/ In the rear
were two doors, and between them, an alcove, or inner
stage, separated from the front stage by curtains.
Above the inner stage was a gallery, also provided with
curtains, and over the doors were windows or balconies.
The arrangement of doors, inner stage, gallery, and
curtain may have varied somewhat, but the essential
elements are a curtained space at the rear, and a gallery
above. Trap-doors were also provided, and the hut
overhead supplied the machinery for ascents and
descents of gods and goddesses.^

Our diagram for the ground floor of the Fortune
shows a square-cornered stage with doors flat on the
rear, while the perspective drawing from Dr. Albright's
Shaksperian Stage shows a tapering stage, as in the
Messalina picture, with doors on the bias. Some stages

fortune

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GROUND PLAN OF THE FORTUNE THEATER

Dimensions: 80 ft. square on the outside; 55 ft. square on the inside;
the stage 43 ft. wide and extending to the middle of the pit.

124 ®\)t jFacts about

may have had rounded corners with doors in the side.
The pillars were not necessary in the private theaters ;
or in some public houses where other means were found
for supporting the roof.

The performance of a play differed in many ways
from one to-day. There was no scenery and there were
no women actors. Though scenes were used in court
performances as early as 1604, they do not seem to have
been employed by the professional companies to any
extent until after the Restoration. Female parts were
taken by boys, and, except in plays acted by the chil-
dren's companies, there were rarely more than two im-
portant female characters in a play. Though without
scenery, the Elizabethan stage was by no means devoid
of spectacle. Processions, battles, all kinds of mytho-
logical beings, ascents to heaven, descents to hell, fire-
works, and elaborate properties, were employed.
Numerous contemporary plays indicate that neither the
fairyland of A Midsummer-Night's Dream, nor the mag-
nificent court of Henry VIII, was devised without an
eye to the resources of the stage. Large sums of money
were lavished on costumes, the cost of a coat often
exceeding the price paid an author for a play. Cos-
tume was anachronistic; Cleopatra was impersonated
by a boy in stays and farthingale; and Csesar, prob-
ably by Burbage, in a costume much like that worn
by the Earl of Essex. Some attention, however, was
paid to appropriateness. Shepherds were clothed in
white, hunters in green; and doubtless mermaids,

125

fairies, Venuses, and satyrs were given as appropriate
a dress as fancy could devise. The action of a play I
seems usually to have been completed in two hours."
There was sometimes music between the acts, but
there were no long waits, and little stage business.

The peculiarities in the presentation of a play due
to the arrangement of the stage were considerable, and
have been the subject of much discussion and mis-
understanding among investigators. There is, how-
ever, no doubt that the action was largely on the front
stage, and that most of the scenes, at least in Shake-
speare's lifetime, were designed for presentation on this
projecting platform. Since there was no drop-curtain,
actors had some distance to traverse, on entrances and
exits, between the doors and the front. At the end of a
scene or a play, all must retire, and the bodies of the
dead must be carried out. Hence a tragedy often v
ends with a funeral procession, a comedy with a dance.
The indications of scene supplied by modern editors
for Shakespeare's plays help to visualize a modern
presentation, but are misleading as to Shakespeare's
intentions or an Elizabethan performance. The ma-
jority of scenes in his plays differ strikingly from those
in a modern play in that they offer no hints as to the
exact locality. Often it is not clear from the text
whether the scene is conceived as indoors or outdoors,
in the palace, or the courtyard, or before the entrance.
Even when the scene is presumably within a room,
there is often no indication of the nature of the furnish-

about

ings, never any of the elaborate attention to details
of setting, such as we find in a play by Pinero or Shaw.
Sometimes placards were hung up indicating the scene
of a play, but apparently these merely gave the general
scene, as "Venice" or "Verona," and did not often
designate localities more closely. In fact the majority
of the scenes were probably written with no precise
conception of their setting. They were written to be
acted on a front stage, bare of scenery, projecting out
into the audience. This did not represent a particular
locality, but rather any locality whatever.

The inner stage and the gallery above, and to some
extent the doors and the windows, were used to indi-
cate specific localities when these were necessary.
The gallery represented the wall of a town, an upper
story of a house, or any elevated locality. The doors
represented doors to houses or gates to a city, and the
windows or balconies over them were often used for
the windows of the houses. The inner stage was used
in various ways to indicate a specific locality requiring
properties, and this use apparently increased as time
went on, and especially in the indoor, artificially lighted
private theaters. In any case, however, when the cur-
tains were opened, the inner stage became a part of
the main stage, and while action might take place
there, it might also serve as a background for action
proceeding in the front. Properties could be brought
on and off the inner stage, behind the closed curtains,
hence large properties were confined to its precincts.

127

Furniture, as chairs, tables, or even beds, could, how-
ever, be pushed or carried out from the inner to the
outer stage. A play might be given on the front
stage without using the curtained recess at all, but
numerous references to curtains make it clear that the
inner stage was used fromthe early days of the theater.
The uses of the inner stage have been much dis-
cussed and are still in dispute, but they may be sum-
marized briefly. First, the inner stage was used for a
specific, restricted, and usually propertied locality — a
cave, a study, a shop, a prison. Second, the inner
stage was used for scenes requiring discovery or tableaux.
Numerous stage directions indicate the drawing of the
curtains to present a scene set on the inner stage, as
Bethsabe at her bath, Friar Bungay in bed with his
magical apparatus about him, Ferdinand and Miranda .
playing chess. Third, the use of the inner stage was
extended so that it represented any propertied back-
ground, especially for scenes in a forest, church, or
temple. In As You Like It, for example, the last four
acts are located in the Forest of Arden. "This is the
Forest of Arden," says Rosalind as soon as she arrives
there; and even before this, Duke senior alludes to
"these woods," and later we learn that there are prac-
ticable trees on which Orlando hangs his verses. The
forest setting, consisting of trees and rocks, was placed on
the inner stage and served to give a scenic background.
Of course, different places in the forest are to be pre-
sumed, but one forest background would be suffi-

about

cient for all. In the course of the four acts, however,
there are three scenes (II. ii; II. iii; III. i) that are
not in the forest, but at unspecified and improper tied
places about the palace and Oliver's house. For these
scenes the curtain would be closed, shutting off the
forest background and transferring the spectators to
the unspecified localities of Act I, i.e., to the bare front
stage. Fourth. An extension of this last use made it
possible to employ the curtain to indicate change of
scene. Several scenes, where no heavy properties were
required, might succeed one another on the front stage
with the curtains closed; but the opening of the cur-
tains would reveal a special background and a manifest
change of scene. One instance of this use of the inner
stage is seen in the immediate change from an out-
door to an indoor scene, or vice versa. The scene is in
the street, i.e., on the front stage ; the person knocks
at one of the doors and is admitted to a house ; when
he reappears, it is through the inner stage, the curtains
of which have been drawn, disclosing the setting of a
room. Or this process is reversed. In A Yorkshire
Tragedy y there is an interesting case of such an alter-
nation from indoors to outdoors, with one character
remaining on the stage all of the time. A more ex-
tensive use of this "alternation" could be employed to
indicate marked changes of place. As long as the
action remains in Venice, the bare front stage will do,
but a transfer to Portia's house at Belmont can be
made by means of the curtains and the inner stage.

(Solution of rtie theater 129

In the later plays at the private theaters this use of the
inner stage, then better lighted, seems to have increased,
especially in the change from a street or general hall
to special apartments.

These uses of the inner stage, together with that of
the upper stage or gallery, gave a chance for consider-
able variety in the action, and rendered the rapid succes-
sion of scenes less bewildering than one would at first
suppose. Shakespeare's stage was the outcome of the
peculiar conditions of acting by professionals in the
sixteenth century, but it was also a natural step in the
evolution from the medieval to the modern stage.
On the medieval stage there was a neutral place or
platea and special localized and propertied places called
sedes, domus, loca. On the Elizabethan stage the front
stage is the platea, the inner and upper stages the domus
or loca. In the Restoration theater the scenery was
placed on the inner stage and shut off from the outer
stage by a curtain. With the use of scenery, the inner
stage became more important, and the projecting apron
of the front stage was gradually cut down. The pro-
scenium doors in front of the curtain long survived
their original use as entrances, but, as a rule, they
have now finally disappeared with the. front stage.
The modern picture-frame stage of to-day is the evo-
lution of the inner stage of the Elizabethans. Simi-
larly the method of stage presentation has changed
only gradually from Shakespeare's day to ours. The
alternation from outer to inner stage was very common

130 tPje jFacts about g>ljake0peare

in the Restoration theaters, where flat scenes were used
instead of a curtain, and it may still be seen in the pro-
duction of melodrama or of Shakespeare's plays. A
painted drop shuts off a few feet of the stage, which
becomes a street or a hall, while properties and scenery
are being arranged in the rear. When the drop goes
up, we pass from the street or the court of the wicked
Duke to the Forest of Arden, just as the Elizabethans
did.

The Elizabethan stage affected Shakespeare's dra-
matic art in many ways. The absence of scenery, of
women actors, and of a front curtain, the use of a bare
; stage that served for neutral or unspecified localities,
naturally influenced the composition of every play.
But the theatrical presentation was by no means as
crude or as medieval as these differences from modern
practice seem to indicate. The intimacy established
between actors and audience by the projecting stage,
the rapidity of action hastened by the lack of scenery
or furniture, the possibilities of rapid changes of scene
rendered intelligible by the use of the inner stage,

!were all manifest advantages in encouraging dramatic
invention. The traditions formed in this theater for
the presentation of Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and the
other plays, were handed on from Shakespeare and
Burbage to Lowin and Taylor, to Betterton, Gibber,
and Garrick, down to the present day ; and have per-
haps been less revolutionized by scenery and electric
lights than we might imagine.

CHAPTER VII
THE TEXT OF SHAKESPEARE

THE main difficulties that stand in the way of deter-
mining the actual form in which Shakespeare left his
plays are due, first, to the total absence of manuscripts,
and, secondly, to the fact that he, like his contemporaries,
regarded dramatic literature as material for perform-
ance on the stage, not as something to be read in the
library. The most obvious evidence of this lies in his
having himself issued with every appearance of per-
sonal attention his poems of Venus and Adonis and
Lucrece, while he permitted his plays to find their way^
into print without any trace of supervision and, in
some cases, apparently without his consent. When
the author sold a play to the theatrical company which
was to perform it, he appears to have regarded himself
as having no longer any rights in it; and when a play
was published, we are in general justified in supposing
either that it had been obtained surreptitiously, or that
it had been disposed of by the company. Exceptions
to this begin to appear in the first half of the seven-
teenth century, notably in the case of Heywood, who
defended his action on the plea of protecting the text
from mutilation, and in that of Ben Jonson, who issued
131

132 Wqt JFacttf about

in 1616, in the face of ridicule for his presumption, a
folio volume of his "Works." But, though Shake-
speare is reported to have felt annoyance at the pirating
of his productions, there is no evidence of his having
been led to protect himself or the integrity of his writ-
ings by departing from the usual practice in his pro-
fession.

Among the various documents which make us aware
of this situation, so general then, but so strongly in
contrast with modern methods, three explicit state-
ments by Heywood are so illuminating that they
deserve quotation. One occurs in the preface to his
Rape of Lucrece, 1630 :

To the Reader. — It hath beene no custome in mee of all
other men (courteous Reader) to commit my plaies to the
presse : the reason though some may attribute to my owne
insufficiencie, I had rather subscribe in that to their seuare
censure then by seeking to auoide the imputation of weaknes
to incurre greater suspition of honestie : for though some
haue vsed a double sale of their labours, first to the Stage,
and after to the presse, For my owne part I heere proclaime
my selfe euer faithfull in the first, and neuer guiltie of the last :
yet since some of my plaies haue (vnknowne to me, and with-
out any of my direction) accidentally come into the Printers
hands, and therefore so corrupt and mangled, (coppied only
by the eare) that I have bin as vnable to know them, as
ashamed to chalenge them, This therefore, I was the will-
inger to furnish out in his natiue habit : first being by con-
sent, next because the rest haue beene so wronged in being
publisht in such sauadge and ragged ornaments : accept
it courteous Gentlemen, and prooue as fauorable Readers
as we haue found you gratious Auditors. Yours T. H.

Higjit co print 133

The second is in Heywood's Pleasant Dialogues and
Dramas, 1637, the prologue to // you know not me,
you know no bodie; Or, The troubles of Queen Elizabeth.
It is as follows :

A Prologve to the Play of Queene Elizabeth as it was last
revived at the Cock-pit, in which the Author taxeth >the most
corrupted copy now imprinted, which was published without
his consent.

PROLOGUE

Playes have a fate in their conception lent,
Some so short liv'd, no sooner shew'd than spent ;
But borne to-day, to morrow buried, and
Though taught to speake, neither to goe nor stand.
This : (by what fate I know not) sure no merit,
That it disclaimes, may for the age inherit.
Writing 'bove one and twenty : but ill nurst,
And yet receiv'd as well perform'd at first,
Grac't and frequented, for the cradle age,
Did throng the Seates, the Boxes, and the Stage
So much : that some by Stenography drew
The plot : put it in print : (scarce one word trew :)
And in that lamenesse it hath limp't so long,
The Author now to vindicate that wrong
Hath tooke the paines, upright upon its feete
To teache it walke, so please you sit, and see't.

The third passage occurs in the address to the reader
prefixed to The English Traveller, 1633 :

True it is that my plays are not exposed to the world in
volumes, to bear the titles of Works (as others). One reason
is .that many of them by shifting and changing of companies
have been negligently lost ; others of them are still retained
in the hands of some actors who think it against their peculiar

134 <&ty jfacts about £>!jake0peare

profit to have them come in print ; and a third that it was
never any great ambition in me in this kind to be volumi-
nously read.

From these passages we gather that Hey wood con-
sidered it dishonest to sell the same play to the stage
and to the press; that some of his plays were stolen
through stenographic reports taken in the theater and
were printed in corrupt forms ; that, in order to coun-
teract this, he obtained the consent of the theatrical
owners to his publication of a correct edition; that
some actors considered the printing of plays against their
interest (presumably because they thought that if a
man could read a play, he would not care to see it
acted) ; and that many plays were lost through
negligence and the changes in the theatrical com-
panies. That we are here dealing with the condi-
tions of Shakespeare's time is clear enough, since the
edition of If you know not me on which Heywood
casts reflections was published in 1605, and in 1604
Marston supplies corroboration in the preface to his
Malcontent :

I would fain leave the paper ; only one thing afflicts me, to
think that scenes, invented merely to be spoken, should be en-
forcively published to be read, and that the least hurt I can
receive is to do myself the wrong. But since others otherwise
would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted.
I have myself, therefore, set forth this comedy ; but so, that
my enforced absence must much rely upon the printer's dis-
cretion : but I shall entreat slight errors in orthography may be
as slightly overpassed, and that the unhandsome shape which

UOtratcti CDitions 135

this trifle in reading presents, may be pardoned for the pleasure
it once afforded you when it was presented with the soul of
lively action.

The only form in which any of Shakespeare's plays
found their way into print during his lifetime was that
of small pamphlets, called Quartos, which were sold at
sixpence each.1 In the case of five of these there is
general agreement that they came to the press by
the surreptitious method of reporting described by
Heywood : the first Quarto versions of Romeo and
Juliet, Henry V, The Merry Wives, Hamlet, and Pericles.
All of these bear clear traces of the effects of such
mutilation as would naturally result from the attempt
to write down the dialogue during the performance,
and patch up the gaps later. The first Quartos of
Richard III and King Lear, though much superior to
the five mentioned, yet contain so many variants from
the text of the Folio which seem to be due to mistakes
of the ear and to slips of memory on the part of the
actors, that probably they should also be included in the
list of those surreptitiously obtained.

Redress for such pirating as is implied in these pub-
lications was difficult on account of the absence of a
law of copyright. The chief pieces of legislation
affecting the book trade were the law of licensing and
the charter of the Stationers' Company. According
to the first, all books, with a few exceptions, such as
academic publications, had to be licensed before publi-

1 For facsimile reproductions see Bibliography, Appendix D.

136 Qfyt jFacta about

cation by the Bishop of London or the Archbishop of
Canterbury. This was an unworkable provision, and
in fact the responsibility for all books not likely to
raise political or theological controversy was left to
the Stationers' Company. This close corporation of
printers and publishers exercised its powers for the pro-
tection of its members rather than of authors. A
publisher wishing to establish a monopoly in a book
he had acquired entered it on the Stationers' Register,
paying a fee of sixpence, and was thereby protected
against piracy. When the copy so registered was im-
properly acquired, the state of the case is not so clear.
At times the officials showed hesitation about register-
ing a book until the applicant "hath gotten sufficient
authoritye for yt," and As You Like It, for example,
appears in the Register only "to be staied," which it
was until the publication of the first Folio. Further,
the pirated Romeo and Juliet and Henry V were never
/entered at all; the pirated Hamlet and Pericles were
ientered, but to other publishers, who in the case of
jHamlet brought out a more correct text in the follow-
ing year; the pirated Merry Wives was transferred
from one publisher to another on the day of entry, and
actually issued by the second. Thus this group of
plays does not support the view that the Stationers'
Company stood ready to give perpetual copyright to
their members even for obviously stolen goods. It is
to be noted, too, that the previous publication of these
surreptitious copies formed no hindrance to the later

137

issue of an authentic copy. The second Quarto of
Hamlet, printed from a complete manuscript, fol-
lowed, as has been said, the first the next year, and
the same thing happened in . the case of Romeo and
Juliet.

On the other hand, the great majority of the Quartos
printed from playhouse copies of the plays were regu-
larly entered, and the rights of the original publisher
preserved to him. The appearance of groups of plays
in the market following interference with theatrical
activity such as came from the plague in 1594, from the
breaking up of companies, or from Puritan attempts at
restriction, confirm the belief that these better Quartos
were honorably acquired by the publishers from the
companies owning them, when the actors thought that
there was more to gain than to lose by giving them to
the press.

The accompanying " Table of Quarto Editions "
gives the names of all the Shakespearean plays issued
in this form before the publication of the collected
edition in 1623, known as the First Folio. In the
cases of Romeo and Juliet, 1 Henry IV, Love's Labour's
Lost, Merchant of Venice, Much Ado, A Midsummer-
Night's Dream, and Richard II, a Quarto, usually the
most recent, provided the text from which the version in
the Folio was printed. Hence, though in several cases
the copy of the Quarto thus employed seems to have
been one used by the actors and containing corrections
of some value, the extant Quarto rather than the

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Folio is the prime authority for the text to-day.
The same is true of Titus Andronicus, except that in
this case the Folio restores from some manuscript
source a scene which had been dropped from the
Quarto. If, as some hold, the Folio texts of Richard
III and King Lear were printed from Quartos, there
must have been available also a manuscript version,
which is so heavily drawn upon that the Folio text
virtually represents an independent source, as it does
in the case of four of the five plays acknowledged to
be due to surreptitious reporting. Pericles, the fifth of
these, was first admitted to the collected works in the
third Folio, and is the only "reported" text forming
our sole authority.1

1 In the table of Quarto editions may be noted four entries
with the words "or 1619" added to the date which appears
on the title-page. These four plays, the Roberts Quartos of
The Merchant of Venice and A Midsummer-Night's Dream
of 1600, the third Quarto of Henry V, 1608, the second Quarto
of King Lear, 1608, along with the 1619 Quartos of The Merry
Wives and Pericles, an undated Quarto of The Whole Conten-
tion (the earlier form of £ and 8 Henry VI), the Quarto of Sir
John Oldcastle, dated 1600, and the Quarto of A Yorkshire
Tragedie, dated 1619, have been shown by Mr. A. W. Pollard,
with the cooperation of Mr. W. W. Greg, to have been put
on the market at the same time, and Mr. W. J. Neidig has
proved from typographical evidence that the title-pages of
all nine were set up in succession in 1619. A very curious
problem is thus presented, and the motives for the deception
practised, apparently by the printers Pavier and Jaggard,
have not been satisfactorily cleared up; but at present it
appears likely that in the case of these nine Quartos the

jfteeft jfoito 141

We come now to the publication of the First Folio,
the most important single volume in the history of the
text of Shakespeare. On November 8, 1623, the
following entry occurs in the Stationers' Register :

Mr. Blount : Isaak Jaggard. Entred for their copie under
the hands of Mr Doctor Worrall and Mr Cole, Warden,
Mr William Shakspeers Comedyes, Histories and Tragedyes,
soe manie of the said copyes as are not formerly entred to
other men viz*, Comedyes. The Tempest. The two gentle-
men of Verona. Measure for Measure. The Comedy of
Errors. As you like it. All's well that ends well. Twelft
Night. The winters tale. Histories. The thirde part of
Henry the sixt. Henry the eight. Tragedies. Coriolanus.
Timon of Athens. Julius Caesar. Mackbeth. Anthonie
and Cleopatra. Cymbeline.

One notes here the omission of 1 and 2 Henry VI,
King John, and The Taming of the Shrew, which had
neither been previously entered nor issued in Quarto.
This is probably due to the fact that three of these are
based on older plays of which Quartos exist, which may
have seemed to the publishers reason enough to save
their sixpences. If we assume that "The thirde part
of Henry the sixt" is a misprint for "The first part,"

correct date of publication should be 1619, and that, in the
case of the first two mentioned, the question of the com-
parative authority of the Heyes and Fisher Quartos respec-
tively as against that of the Roberts Quartos should be settled
against the latter. This last point is the only part of this
remarkable discovery which is of importance in determining
the text, as the Quartos dated 1608 and 1619 were already
known to be mere reprints of earlier ones.

142 Wtyt jFaets about £>t)afee0peare

the explanation covers the whole case. The registra-
tion of Antony and Cleopatra was superfluous, as it had
been entered, though not printed, so far as we know,
on May 20, 1608.

There are thus in the First Folio, the publication of
which immediately followed this entry in 1623, twenty
plays not before issued, for which the text of this
volume is our sole authority. The emphasis so com-
monly placed on the supreme value of the text of the
First Folio is justified with regard to these twenty
plays ; as for the remaining seventeen, its importance
is shared, in proportions varying from play to play,
with the texts of the Quartos. The sources from which
the compilers of the Folio obtained their new material
were in all probability playhouse copies, as in the case
of the better Quartos. Heminge and Condell, Shake-
speare's actor colleagues and friends, who sign the Ad-
dress to the Readers,1 would obviously be the instru-
ments for obtaining such copies. As for the so-called
"private transcripts" which some have postulated as
a source of material, there is no evidence that at this
date any such existed. Whether any of the playhouse
manuscripts provided by Heminge and Condell were in
Shakespeare's autograph we can neither affirm nor deny,
but it is well to be cautious in accepting at its face
value the implication contained in their words that they
had "scarce received from him a blot in his papers.'*

1 For this and other prefatory matter from the First
Folio, see Appendix A.

SHAKESPEARE

COMEDIES,
HISTORIES, &
TRAGEDIES

0 ,?£ 2) 0

Printed by liaac laggard, aud Ed. Blount.

THE TITLE PAGE OF THE FIRST FOLIO
(From the copy in the New York Public Library.)

jFtrst JFoito 143

The First Folio is a large volume of 908 pages,
measuring in the tallest extant copy 13| x 8|- inches.
A reduced facsimile of the title page with the familiar
wood-cut portrait appears on the opposite page. The
text is printed in two columns with' sixty-six lines to a
column. The typography is only fairly good, and many
mistakes occur in the pagination. Extant copies, of
which there are at least 156, vary in some respects, on
account of the practice of making corrections while the
sheets were being printed. The printer was William
Jaggard, and his associates in the publishing enterprise
were his son Isaac and the booksellers, William Aspley,
John Smethwick, and Edward Blount. Estimates of the
size of the edition vary from five to six hundred.

Many of the causes which made the text of these
early editions inaccurate are common to all the plays,
while some are peculiar to those obtained by reporters
in the theater. Of the first, the most fundamental
is, of course, the illegibility or ambiguity of the author's
original manuscript. Such flaws were perpetuated and
multiplied with each successive transcript, and when
the manuscript copy came into the printer's hands,
the errors of the compositor — confusion of words
sounding alike, of words looking alike, unconscious
substitution of synonyms, mere manual slips, and the
like — were added to those already existing. The
absence of any uniform spelling, and carelessness in
punctuation, which led to these being freely modified
by the printer, increased the risk of corruption. The

about |a>t)abe$peare

punctuation of both Quartos and Folio, though by no
means without weight, cannot be regarded as having
the author's sanction, and all modernized editions
re-punctuate with greater or less freedom. Most
nineteenth-century editors carry on with minor modifi-
cations the punctuation of Pope, so that their texts
show a composite of sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth,
and nineteenth century methods ; the text used in the
Tudor edition is frankly punctuated, as far as the syn-
tax permits, according to modern methods, with, it is
believed, no loss in authority. There is no clear evi-
dence that, in such productions as plays, proof was
read outside of the printing-office. The theory, insisted
on by Dr. Furness in successive volumes of the New
Variorum Shakespeare, that the Elizabethan compos-
itor set type to dictation is without foundation, the
phenomena which he seeks to explain by it occurring
commonly to-day when there is no question of such a
practice.

Another class of variation in text arose from the
treatment of the manuscript in the playhouse. Cuts,
additions, and alterations were made for acting pur-
poses, stage directions were added with or without
the assistance of the author, revivals of the play called
for revision by the original writer or another. The
majority of stage directions in modern editions, except
exits and entrances, are due to editors from Rowe
onwards, and these unauthorized additions are distin-
guished in the Tudor edition by brackets. Almost

Corruptions of ®e# 145

all notes of place at the beginnings of scenes belong to
this class.

The defects to which the texts of the surreptitiously
obtained Quartos are particularly subject include
omissions and alterations due to lapse of memory on
the part of the actors, additions due to the tendency to jL
improvise which Shakespeare censures in Hamlet,*
omissions due to the reporter's failure to hear or to
write quickly enough, garbled paraphrases made up
to supply such omissions, and the writing of prose as
verse and verse as prose.

Such are the most important of the causes of the
corruptions which the long series of editors of Shake-
speare have devoted their study and their ingenuity
to remedying. The series really begins with the second
Folio of 1632 and is continued with but slight improve-
ments in the third Folio of 1663, reprinted with the
addition of Pericles and six spurious plays in 1664,
and in the fourth Folio of 1685. The emendations
made in the seventeenth-century editions are mainly
modernizations in spelling and such minor changes as
occurred to members of the printing staff. In no case
do they have any authority except such as may be
supposed to belong to a man not far removed from
Shakespeare in date; and they add about as many
mistakes as they remove.

The difficulty of the task of the modern editor varies
greatly from play to play. It is least in the twenty
plays for which the First Folio is the sole authority,

146 W$t 5Fact$ about

greater in the eight in which the Folio reprints a Quarto
with some variations, greatest in the nine in which
Folio and Quarto represent rival versions. In these last
cases, it is the duty of the editor to decide from all the
accessible data which version has the best claim to
represent the author's intention, and to make that a
basis to be departed from only in clear cases of corrup-
tion. The temptation, which no editor has completely
resisted, is naturally towards an eclecticism which adopts
the reading that seems most plausible in itself, with-
out giving due weight to the general authority of the
text chosen as a basis. If carried far, such eclecticism
results in a patchwork quite distinct from any version
that Shakespeare can have known.

The first editor of Shakespeare, in the modern sense,
was Nicholas Howe, poet laureate under Queen
Anne. He published in 1709 an edition of the plays
in six octavo volumes, preceded by the first formal
memoir of the dramatist, and furnished with notes.
The poems were issued in the following year in similar
form, with essays by Gildon. Rowe based his text
upon that of the fourth Folio, with hardly any collation
of previous editions. He corrected a large number of
the more obvious corruptions, the most notable of
his emendations being perhaps the phrase in Twelfth
Nighty "Some are become great," which he changed
to "Some are born great." On the external aspect
of the plays Rowe has left a deeper mark than any
subsequent editor. In the Folios only eight of the

ftotoe ana |Dope 147

plays had lists of dramatis persona; Rowe supplied
them for the rest. In the Folios the division into
acts and scenes is carried out completely in only
seventeen cases, it is partially done in thirteen, and
in six it is not attempted at all. Rowe again com-
pleted the work, and though some of his divisions
have been modified and others should be, he performed
this task with care and intelligence. He modernized
the spelling and the punctuation, completed the exits
and entrances, corrected many corrupt speech-tags,
and arranged many passages where the verse was
disordered. In virtue of these services, he must, in
spite of his leaving much undone, be regarded as one
of the most important agents in the formation of our
modern text.

A second edition of Rowe's Shakespeare was pub-
lished in 1714, and in 1725 appeared a splendid quarto
edition in six volumes, edited by Alexander Pope.
In his preface Pope made strong professions of his
good faith in dealing with the text. "I have dis-
charged," he said, "the dull duty of an editor to my
best judgment, with more labor than I expect thanks,
with a religious abhorrence of all innovation, and without
any indulgence to my private sense or conjecture. . . .
The various readings are fairly put in the margin, so
that anyone may compare 'em ; and those I have pre-
ferred into the text are constantly ex fide codicum,
upon authority. . . . The more obsolete or unusual
words are explained." Hardly one of these state-

148 3Mje jFacttf about

ments is entirely true. Pope possessed copies of the
first and second Folios, and at least one Quarto of each
play that had been printed before 1623, except Much
Ado, but these he consulted only occasionally, and
seldom registered the variants as he said he had done.
When he did, he gave no clue to their source. He
constantly inserted his private conjectures without
notice, and his explanations of difficult expressions
are few and frequently wrong. Passages considered
by him inferior or spurious he relegated to the foot of
the pages; others he merely omitted without notice.
His ear was often jarred by the freedom of Shake-
speare's verse, and he did his best to make it
"regular" by eighteenth-century standards. Yet
Pope spent much ingenuity in striving to better the
text, and no small number of restorations and emenda-
tions are to be credited to him, especially in connection
with the arrangement of the verse. He is to be cred-
ited also with discernment in rejecting the seven plays
added to the Shakespearean canon in the third Folio,
of which only Pericles has since been restored.

The weaknesses of Pope's edition did not long remain
hidden. In the spring of 1726 appeared "Shakespeare
Restored : or, a Specimen of the many Errors, as well
committed, as unamended, by Mr. Pope in his late
edition of this Poet. Designed not only to correct the
said edition, but to restore the True Reading of Shake-
speare in all the Editions ever yet publish'd." Lewis
Theobald, the author, was a translator and scholar,

ana Cannier 149

much better equipped than Pope for the work of edit-
ing, and his merciless exposure of Pope's defects gave
a foretaste of the critical ability later displayed in the
edition of Shakespeare which he published in 1734.
Lovers of Shakespeare discerned at the time the service
performed by Theobald in this attack on Pope, but the
publication in 1728 of the first edition of the Dunriad,
with Theobald as hero, gave Pope his revenge, and
cast over the reputation of his critic a cloud which is
only now dispersing. Modern scholarship, however,
has come to recognize the primacy of Theobald among
emendators of Shakespeare's text, and the most famous
of his contributions, his correction of "a table of green
fields" to "'a babied of green fields," in Quickly's
account of the death of Falstaff in Henry V, II. iii. 17,
is only a specially brilliant example of the combination
of acuteness, learning, and sympathy which made his
edition a landmark in the history of the text. For
many of his troubles, however, Theobald was himself
to blame ; he attacked his opponents with unnecessary
vehemence, as he expressed his appreciation of his
own work with unnecessary emphasis; he was not
always candid as to what he owed to others, even to
the despised edition of Pope, from which he printed;
and he indulged his appetite for conjecture at times
beyond reasonable bounds.

Theobald's edition was followed in 1744 by that of
Sir Thomas Hanmer in six beautifully printed volumes.
This edition is based on that of Pope, and even goes

jfacts about

farther than Pope's in relegating to the foot of t^o page
passages supposed unworthy. Hanmer performed no
collating worth mentioning, but made some acute con-
jectures.

The student is apt to be prejudiced against the work
of William Warburton on account of the extravagance
of his claims and his ungenerous treatment of pre-
decessors to whom he was greatly indebted. "The
Genuine Text," he announced, "(collated with all
former editions and then corrected and emended)
is here settled : Being restored from the Blunders of
the first editors and the Interpolations of the two
Last" ; yet he based his text on Theobald's and joined
Pope's name with his own on the title-page. What-
ever value belongs to Warburton's edition (1747) lies
in a number of probable conjectural emendations,
some of which he had previously allowed Theobald to
use, and in the amusing bombast and arrogance of many
of his notes. The feeble support that lay behind the
pretensions of this editor was exposed by a number
of critics such as John Upton, Zachary Grey, Benjamin
Heath, and Thomas Edwards, who did not issue new
editions, but contributed a considerable number of
corrections and interpretations.

The value of Dr. Johnson's edition (1765) does not lie
in his emendations, which are usually, though not
always, poor, or in his collation of older editions, for
which he was too indolent, but in the sturdy common-
sense of his interpretations and the consummate skill

3f]olm0on an& Capell 151

frequently shown in paraphrases of obscure passages,
His Preface to the edition was the most weighty gen-
eral estimate of Shakespeare so far produced, and
remains a valuable piece of criticism. In scientific
treatment of the text, involving full use of all the
Quartos and Folios then accessible, Johnson and his
predecessors were far surpassed by Edward Capell, who
issued his edition in ten volumes in 1768. Unfortu-
nately, the enormous labor Capell underwent did not
bear its full fruit, for he suppressed much of his textual
material in the interests of a well-printed page, and his
preface and notes are written in a crabbed style that
obscures the acuteness of his editorial intelligence.
He elaborated stage directions, and carried farther the
correction of disarranged meter; but, like most of his
fellow-editors in that century, he did less than justice
to his predecessors and was too indulgent to his own
conjectures. This edition was supplemented by vol-
umes of notes published in 1775 (1 vol.) and 1779-
1783 (3 vols.).

Before the publication of CapelPs text, the anti-
quary George Steevens had issued in 1766 reprints of
twenty of the early Quartos ; and in 1773 he produced,
in association with Johnson, an edition with a good text
in which he benefited from CapelFs labors (though he
denies this) . Through his knowledge of Elizabethan lit-
erature he made substantial contributions to the inter-
pretation of difficult passages. He restored Pericles to
a place in the canon, but excluded the Poems, because

jfacttf about

"the strongest Act of Parliament that could be framed
would fail to compel readers into their service." To
the second edition of Johnson and Steevens's text
(1778) Edmund Malone contributed his famous "Essay
on the Chronology of Shakespeare's Plays," which
began modern investigation of this subject. The
third edition was revised in 1785 by Isaac Reed; and
this was succeeded by the edition of Malone in 1790,
in which the vast learning and conscientious care of
that scholar combined to produce the most trust-
worthy text so far published. Malone was not bril-
liant, but he was extremely erudite and candid, and
his so-called "Third Variorum" edition in twenty-one
volumes, brought out after his death by James Boswell
in 1821, is a mine of information on theatrical history
and cognate matters, which will probably always be
of value to students of the period. The name of
"First Variorum Edition" is given to the fifth edition
of Johnson and Steevens, revised by Reed in 1803, and
"Second Variorum" to the sixth edition of the same,
1813. Meantime occasional critiques of complete
editions contributed something to the text. Johnson's
edition called forth comment by Kendrick in 1765
and Tyrwhitt in 1766, and the Johnson and Steevens
text was criticized by Joseph Ritson in 1783 and 1788,
and by J. Monck Mason in 1785. The first American
edition was published in Philadelphia in 1795-1796
from Johnson's text; the first continental edition at
Brunswick in 1797-1801 by C. Wagner.

153

The editions of the nineteenth century are too
numerous for detailed mention here. Passing by the
"family" Shakespeare of T. Bowdler, 1807 and 1820,
and the editions of Harness, 1825, and Singer, 1826, we
note the editions of 1838-1842, and 1842-1844 in which
Charles Knight resorted to the text of the First Folio
as an exclusive authority. J. P. Collier in his edition
of 1844 leaned, on the other hand, to the side of the
Quartos, but later became a clever if somewhat rash
emendator, who spoiled his reputation by seeking to
obtain authority for his guesses by forging them in a
seventeenth-century hand in a copy of the second
Folio. The colossal volumes of J. O. Halliwell-Phil-
lipps's edition, 1853-1865, contain stores of anti-
quarian illustration ; and in the edition of Delius, 1854-
1861, we have the chief contribution of Germany to
the text of Shakespeare. Delius, like Knight, though
not to the same extreme, exaggerated the authority of
the First Folio ; but for the plays for which that is the
sole source, his text has earned high respect. Alex-
ander Dyce, wisest of Elizabethan scholars, produced
in 1857 a characteristically sane text, on the whole the
best to this date ; while in America in 1857-1860 and
1859-1865 the brilliant but erratic Richard Grant
White produced editions which show a commendable
if puzzling openness to conviction in successive changes
of opinion.

From 1863 to 1866 appeared the first issue of the
Cambridge Shakespeare, edited originally by W. G.

i54 Qtt)t jfacts about

Clark, J. Glover, and W. A. Wright. The responsibility
for the later revised edition of 1891-3 is Dr. Wright's.
The exceedingly careful and exhaustive collation of all
previous textual readings in the notes of this edition
make it indispensable for the serious student, and its
text, substantially reprinted in the Globe edition, is the
most widely accepted form of the works of Shakespeare
which has ever been circulated. The over-emphasis
on the First Folio which has been noted in Knight and
Delius is no longer found here, and in general the com-
parative value of Quarto and Folio is weighed in the
case of each play. Occasionally, in cases like that of
Richard III, where both Quarto and Folio are good
but vary widely, the Cambridge editors seem more
eclectic than their general theory warrants, and the
punctuation is still archaic, clinging to the eighteenth-
century tradition. But the acceptance of this careful
and conservative text has been a wholesome influence
in Shakespearean study.

The only completely reedited texts which have
been issued since the revised Cambridge edition are
that of the Oxford Shakespeare, by W. J. Craig, on
principles very similar to the Cambridge, and the
Neilson text, originally published in one volume in
1906 and revised and reprinted in the Tudor Shake-
speare. The massive volumes of Dr. H. H. Furness's
New Variorum Shakespeare, begun in 1871 (17 volumes
issued), now reprint the text of the First Folio, and show
marked traces of the tendency to follow this authority

decent Butters 155

without due discrimination. This monumental ab-
stract of all previous criticism is of great value to the
professional student of Shakespeare, and its textual
apparatus has the advantage over the Cambridge
edition of recording not only the first occurrence of a
reading, but the names of the chief editors who have
adopted it. It thus gives a compendious history of
editorial judgment on all disputed points.

The conjectural emendation of Shakespeare still
goes on, but since Dyce, comparatively few suggestions
find general acceptance. More progress has been made
in interpretation through the greater accessibility of
contemporary documents and the advance in recent
years in our knowledge of Elizabethan theatrical condi-
tions. But, in view of the circumstances under which
the original editions were printed, there will always be
room for variations of individual opinion in many cases,
both as to what Shakespeare wrote and as to what he
meant.

CHAPTER VIH

QUESTIONS OF AUTHENTICITY

OWING to the conditions of publication described in
Chapter VII there are questions as to the authenticity
of a number of the poems and plays ascribed to Shake-
speare. Of the poems, " The Phoenix and the Turtle "
and " A Lover's Complaint " have been sometimes re-
jected as unworthy, but there is no other evidence
against the ascription to him by the original publishers.
The case of The Passionate Pilgrim is different and is
interesting as illustrating the methods of piracy prac-
tised by booksellers and as affording the only record of
a protest by Shakespeare against the free use which
they made of his name. This anthology was published
by W. Jaggard in 1599 as "by W. Shakespeare." The
third edition in 1612 added two pieces by Thomas
Hey wood. Hey wood immediately protested and in
the postscript to his Apologiefor Actors, 1612, declared
that Shakespeare was " much offended with M. Jaggard
that (altogether unknown to him) presumed to make
so bold with his name." Of the twenty poems that
made up the volume, only five are certainly by Shake-
speare, two appearing also in The Sonnets and three in
Love's Labour's Lost. Six others can be assigned to
contemporary poets. The authorship of the remaining
156

157

nine is unknown, but probably only one or two are by
Shakespeare.

In addition to the thirty-seven plays now included
in all editions of Shakespeare, some forty others have
been, for one reason or another, attributed to him.
The First Folio contained thirty-six plays ; and it is a
strong evidence of the honesty and information of its
editors, Heming and Condell, that subsequent criticism
has been satisfied to retain the plays of their choice and
to make but one addition, Pericles. Of these plays,
however, it is now generally agreed that a number are
not entirely the work of Shakespeare, but were written
by him in part in collaboration with other writers, e.g.,
Titus Andronicus, 1, 2, and 3 Henry VI, Timon of
Athens, Pericles, and Henry VIII. Of two of these,
Titus Andronwus and 1 Henry VI, some students
refuse to give Shakespeare any share. Of the forty
doubtful plays, there is not one which in its entirety
is now credited to Shakespeare; and only three or
four in which any number of competent critics see
traces of his hand. Only in the case of The Two Noble
Kinsmen is there any weight of evidence or opinion
that he had a considerable share.

The second Folio kept to the thirty-six plays of the
First Folio ; but the second printing of the third Folio
(1664) added seven plays : Pericles Prince of Tyre,
The London Prodigal, The History of Thomas Lord
Cromwell, Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, The Puritan
Widow, A Yorkshire Tragedy, The Tragedy of Locrine.

158 tPje ifacts about

These seven plays were also included in the fourth
Folio, and as supplementary volumes to Howe's, Pope's,
and some later editions. They were all originally
published in quarto as by W. S., or William Shakespeare,
but except in the case of Pericles, this has been regarded
as a bookseller's mistake or deception without warrant.
Locrine, "newly set forth, overseen, and corrected
by W. S., 1595," is a play of about the date of Titus
Andronicus, and is probably by Greene, Peele, or some
imitator of Marlowe and Kyd. Sir John Oldcastle
appeared in 1600 in two quartos, one of which ascribed
it to William Shakespeare, but it was clearly com-
posed for the Admiral's men as a rival to the Falstaff
plays which the Chamberlain's men had been acting.
Thomas Lord Cromwell (1602) and The Puritan (1607)
were ascribed to W. S., on their title-pages, but offer
no possible resemblances to Shakespeare. The London
Prodigal (1605) and A Yorkshire Tragedy (1608) were
both acted by Shakespeare's company, and bore his
name on their first editions, and the latter also on a
second edition, 1619. The external evidence for his
authorship is virtually the same as in the case of
Pericles, which also was acted by his company, appeared
under his name during his lifetime, but was rejected by
the editors of the First Folio. No one, however, can
discover any suggestion of Shakespeare in The London
Prodigal. A Yorkshire Tragedy is a domestic tragedy in
one act, dealing with a contemporary murder. It gives
the conclusion of a story also treated in a play, The

®too jpoble fttntfmm 159

Miseries of Enforced Marriage (1607) by George Wilkins,
the author of a novel The Painful Adventures of
Pericles, and sometimes suggested as a collaborator
on the play Pericles. A Yorkshire Tragedy is very
unlike Shakespeare, but it has a few passages of ex-
traordinarily vivid prose, which might conceivably owe
something to him.

The Two Noble Kinsmen was registered April 8, 1634,
and appeared in the same year with the following
title-page "The Two Noble Kinsmen: Presented at
the Blackfriars by the Kings Maiesties servants, with
great applause : Written by the memorable Worthies
of their time ;

Mr. John Fletcher, and 1 ^ t

Mr. William Shakespeare j

Fruited at London by the Tho. Cotes for lohn Water-
son ; and are to be sold at the signe of the Crowne in
Paul's Church-yard. 1634." The exclusion of the
play from the First Folio may be explained on the same
basis as the exclusion of Pericles; for in each play
Shakespeare wrote the minor part. There is now
general agreement that The Two Noble Kinsmen was
written by two authors with distinct styles, and that
the author of the larger portion is Fletcher. The
attribution of the non-Fletcherian part to Shakespeare
has been upheld by Lamb, Coleridge, De Quincey,
Spalding (in a notable Letter on Shakespeare's Author-
ship of The Two Noble Kinsmen, 1833), Furness, and
Littledale (who edited the play for The New Shakespeare

160 t£lje jfacttf about

Society, Series II, 1, 8, 15, London, 1876-1885) ; but
there are still many critics who do not believe that
Shakespeare had any part in the play. This question
will probably always remain a matter of opinion;
but the evidence of various verse tests confirms esthetic
judgment in assigning about two fifths of the verse to
Shakespeare. The Shakespearean portion, here and
there possibly touched by Fletcher, includes, I. i ;
I. ii ; I. iii ; I. iv. 1-28 ; III. i ; III. ii ; V. i. 17-73 ; V. iii.
1-104 ; V. iv, and perhaps the prose II. i and IV. iii.

The dance in the play is borrowed from an anti-
masque in Beaumont's Masque of the Inner Temple and
Gray's Inn, presented at court, February 20, 1613. This
fixes the date of composition for the play in 1613, the
same year as Henry VIII, on which it is now generally
agreed that Shakespeare and Fletcher collaborated.
On both of the plays the collaboration seems to have
been direct; i.e., after making a fairly detailed outline,
each writer took certain scenes, and, to all intents,
completed these scenes after his own fashion.

One other play must be mentioned in connection
with The Two Noble Kinsmen. Cardenio, entered on
the Stationers' Register, 1653, was described as "by
Fletcher and Shakespeare." It seems probably identi-
cal with a Cardenno acted at court by the King's men
in May, 1613, and a Cardenna in June, 1613. Attempts
have been made to connect it with Double Falsehood,
assigned to Shakespeare by Theobald on its publication
in 1728.

Hate ascription* 161

Other non-extant plays ascribed to Shakespeare after
1642 require no attention, nor do a number of Eliza-
bethan plays assigned to him in certain of their later
quartos. Among these are The Troublesome Reign
of King John, on which Shakespeare's King John was
based; The First Part of The Contention, and (the
Second Part) The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of
York (versions of 2 Henry VI and 3 Henry VI} ; and
The Taming of a Shrew, the basis of Shakespeare's
play. The relation of Shakespeare's plays to these
earlier versions is discussed in the introductions to the
respective volumes of the Tudor Shakespeare. Other
plays assigned, without grounds, to Shakespeare by
late seventeenth-century booksellers are The Merry
Devil of Edmonton, The Arraignment of Paris, Fair Em,
Mucedorus, and The Birth of Merlin.

A few other anonymous plays have been ascribed
to Shakespeare by modern critics. Of chief note
are Arden of Feversham, 1592, first attributed to Shake-
speare by Edward Jacob in 1770 ; Edward III, 1596,
included with other false attributions to Shakespeare
in a bookseller's list of 1659, and edited and assigned to
Shakespeare by Capell in 1760 ; Sir Thomas More, an
old play of about 1587, preserved in manuscript until
edited by Dyce in 1844 and assigned to Shakespeare by
Richard Simpson in 1871. There is no evidence for
the ascription of various portions of these plays to
Shakespeare, except that certain passages seem to some
critics characteristic of him. But at the date when the

M

162 1&\)t jracts about

three plays were written his style had not attained
its characteristic individuality ; and the assignment of
these anonymous plays to any particular author
neglects the obvious fact that many writers of that
period present similar traits of versification and imagery.
The attribution to, Shakespeare of the Countess of
Salisbury episode in Edward III, parts of the insur-
rection scenes hi Sir Thomas More, and a few passages
in Arden of Feversham has scarcely any warrant beyond
the enthusiastic admiration of certain critics for these
passages.

Thus only one play of the Shakespeare Apocrypha has
any considerable claim to admission into the canon.
The evidence for his participation in The Two Noble
Kinsmen is about as strong as in Pericles, and the part
assigned to him is fairly comparable with his contribu-
tion to Henry VIII.

An account of the Shakespeare Apocrypha is, however,
incomplete without reference to the forgeries of docu-
ments or plays. Theobald published Double Falsehood
in 1728, as based on a seventeenth-century manuscript
which he conjectured to be by Shakespeare. John
Jordan, a resident of Stratford, forged the will of Shake-
speare's father, and probably some other papers in his
Collections, 1780 ; William Henry Ireland, with the aid
of his father, produced in 1796 a volume of forged papers
purporting to relate to Shakespeare's career, and on
April 2, 1796, Sheridan and Kemble presented at Drury
Lane the tragedy of Vortigern, really by Ireland, but

163

said by him to have been found among Shakespeare's
manuscripts. Ireland was exposed by Malone, and
he published a confession of his forgeries in 1805.
More skilful and far more disturbing to Shakespearean
scholarship are the forgeries of John Payne Collier,
extending over a period from 1835 to 1849. These
included manuscript corrections in a copy of the second
Folio, and many documents concerning the biography of
Shakespeare and the history of the Elizabethan theater.
These forgeries have vitiated many of Collier's most
important publications, ^as his Memoirs of Edward
Alleyn, and History of English Dramatic Poetry.

We turn now from attempts to increase Shakespeare's
writings to an extraordinary effort to deny him the
authorship of all his plays. Doubts on this score
seem to have been raised by Joseph C. Hart in his
Romance of Yachting, 1848, and by an article in Cham-
bers' Journal, August 7, 1852. In 1856, Mr. W. H.
Smith first proposed Bacon's authorship in a letter to
Lord Ellesmere, "Was Lord Bacon the author of
Shakespeare's plays ? " These were followed by an
article by Miss Delia Bacon in Putnam's Monthly, 1856,
and a volume, The Philosophy of the Plays of Shake-
speare unfolded by Delia Bacon. Since Miss Bacon's
book, her hypothesis has resulted in the publication
of hundreds of volumes and pamphlets supporting
many variations of the theory. Some are content to
view the authorship as a mystery, assigning the plays
to an unknown author. Others attribute the author-

164 ®i>e 3Fact0 about £>ljatepeare

ship to a club of distinguished men, or to Sir Anthony
Shirley, or the Earl of Rutland, or another. Others
give Bacon only a portion of the plays, as those con-
taining many legal terms. The majority, however,
are thoroughgoing "Baconians," and the most pro-
digious cases of misapplied ingenuity have been the
efforts to find in the First Folio a cipher, by which cer-
tain letters are selected which proclaim Bacon's au-
thorship; as The Great Cryptogram, 1887, by Ignatius
Donnelly, and The Bi-Literal Cypher of Francis Bacon,
1900, by Mrs. Gallup. Such cyphers are mutually
destructive, and their absurdity has been repeatedly
demonstrated. Either they will not work without
much arbitrary manipulation, or they work too well and
are found to indicate Bacon's authorship of literature
written before his birth and after his death. Yet simi-
lar ' discoveries ' continue to be announced.

The evidences supporting Shakespeare's authorship
have been set forth sufficiently in this volume and
offer no basis for an attitude of skepticism. A few
considerations may be recalled as correctives for a
partial or mistaken reading of the evidence. (1)
Though the records of Shakespeare's life are meager,
they are fuller than for any other Elizabethan drama-
tist. Indeed we know little of the biography of any
men of the sixteenth century unless their lives affected
church or politics and hence found preservation in
the records. There is no ' mystery ' about Shakespeare.
(2) Records amply establish the identity between

« Baconian " Question 165

Shakespeare the actor and the writer. Moreover, the
plays contain many words and phrases natural to an
actor, many references to the actor's art, and show a
wide and detailed knowledge of the ways and peculiari-
ties of the theater. (3) The extent of observation and
knowledge in the plays is, indeed, remarkable, but it
is not accompanied by any indication of thorough
scholarship, or a detailed connection with any profession
outside of the theater, or a profound knowledge of
the science or philosophy of the time. (4) The law
terms are numerous, and usually correct, but do not
establish any great knowledge of the law. Elizabethan
London was full of law students who were among
frequent patrons of the theater. Through acquaint-
ance with these gentlemen Shakespeare might have
readily acquired all the law that he displays. Moreover
Shakespeare had an opportunity to gain a considerable
familiarity with the law through the frequent litigations
in which he and his father were concerned. (5) The
dedication, commendatory poems, and address to the
readers prefixed to the First Folio ought in themselves
to be sufficient to remove the skepticism as to Shake-
speare's authorship.

The following considerations apply to the attribu-
tion to Bacon, so far as that rests on any tangible
basis : (1) Sir Tobie Matthews writes in a letter to
Bacon, written some time later than January, 1621,
"The most prodigious wit that ever I knew of my na-
tion and of this side of the sea is of your Lordship's

i66 Wqt jfacttf about

name, though he be known by another." The sentence
probably refers to Father Thomas Southwell, a Jesuit,
whose real surname was Bacon. There is nothing to
connect it with Shakespeare. (2) The parallelisms
between passages in Shakespeare and Bacon deal with
phrases in common use and fail to establish any con-
nection between the two men. (3) The few surviving
examples of Bacon's verse suggest no ability as a
poet. (4) Bacon's life is well known, and it offers no
hint of connection with the theaters and no space in
its crowded annals for the production of Shakespeare's
plays. In fact, if we had to find an author for Shake-
speare's plays among writers of the sixteenth and seven-
teenth centuries, Bacon would be about the last person
conceivable.

CHAPTER IX

SHAKESPEARE SINCE 1616

DURING Shakespeare's lifetime, his plays were men-
tioned and imitated as often as those of any of his
contemporaries. The more important documents bear-
ing on his growing reputation have already been noted
in this volume. This popularity, however, was con-
fined to theater-goers and the readers of the sixteen
plays that had appeared before 1616. There was no
opportunity for a full estimate of his plays as litera-
ture until their publication in the Folio of 1623. This
is given full and worthy expression in the fine verses
which Ben Jonson contributed as a preface to the Folio.
He had girded at several of Shakespeare's plays, and
his own views of the principles and practices of the
dramatic art were largely opposed to Shakespeare's,
but he took this opportunity to express unstinted ap-
preciation of Shakespeare's greatness. He notes with
discrimination that Shakespeare learned his art in an
earlier day, but far outshone Kyd, Lyly, and Marlowe.

Soul of the Age
The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage !

He may challenge comparison with the great Greek
tragedians, or in comedies

167

168 ®\)t jfact* about

Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.

He was not of an age but for all time !

The magnitude of Shakespeare's achievement was thus
enthusiastically proclaimed by the literary dictator of
the time.

From 1623, until the closing of the theaters, the
plays continued favorites on the stage, though they
yielded somewhat in the current taste to the theatrical
successes of Fletcher and Massinger. After 1623, they
continued to be read and admired, as is shown by
the publication of the second and third folios in 1632
and 1663-1664, and by many appreciations, includ-
ing those of D'Avenant, Suckling, the Duchess of New-
castle, and Milton. At the Restoration many of the
plays were at once revived on the stage, and Dry-
den's essay Of Dramatick Poesie (1668) summed up
in a masterly fashion contemporary opinion on Shake-
speare. He is compared with other great dramatists,
and is declared less correct than Jonson and less
popular and modern than Beaumont and Fletcher,
yet is "the man who of all Moderns, and perhaps
Ancient Poets, had the largest and most comprehensive
soul."

The Restoration was in some doubt about Shake-
speare, for while it found in him much to admire, it
also found much to condemn. His plays now had the
advantage of women actors for the female parts, but

£>etoentmttlj Century 169

they encountered changed fashions in the theater. The
romantic comedies were not to the taste of the time, and
disappeared from the stage until toward the middle of
the eighteenth century. Meanwhile, The Merry Wives
of Windsor was the most popular and most highly
esteemed of his comedies. The tragedies attracted the
genius of Betterton and were constantly acted, but these
were subject to revision of various kinds. Hamlet and
Othello held their places without alterations, but Nahum
Tate's tame version of King Lear and Gibber's version
of Richard III superseded the originals for many years.
Romeo and Juliet, too, gave way to Otway's Caius
Marius, 1692, which kept large portions of Shake-
speare's play ; and Antony and Cleopatra yielded place
on the stage to Dryden's fine All for Love (1678), in
the style of which he professes to imitate the "divine
Shakespeare." By 1692, adaptations had also been
made of Troilus and Cressida, The Tempest, Macbeth,
The Two Noble Kinsmen, Timon, Richard II, Coriolanus,
Henry VI, Cymbeline, Titus Andronicus, Julius Caesar.
A great deal of contempt has been visited upon these
revisions of Shakespeare, and their attempts to im-
prove on him are usually feeble enough ; but sufficient
recognition has not been given to the testimony that
these revisors bear to a great appreciation and admira-
tion of Shakespeare. They tried to adapt him to
current metrical conventions, to current literary
fashions, to an idea of art quite foreign to his, but
they made these efforts because they admired his

170 W$t jFaets about <s>i)afee$peare

genius. If they did not admire everything in his
thirty-seven plays, they admired a great deal.

Further, these revisions are the outcome of critical
strictures on the plays which were then common and,
in essence, have been frequently repeated. Critics ob-
jected to the irregularity and confusion of their struc-
ture, to their disregard of the unities of action, their mix-
ture of tragic and comic, their obscurity and archaism
of diction, their mixed and confused figures, their occa-
sional puns and bombast. These are substantially the
criticisms that Dryden offers when under the influence
of Rymer. Rymer himself (A Short View of Tragedy,
1693) goes much farther. He desires tragedy to give
a rationalized view of life, dealing poetic justice to
various typical persons, and consequently condemns
Shakespeare's persons as too individual, his plots as
too irregular, and the total effect of his plays as in-
sufficiently didactic and moral. This view of tragedy
was mainly due to the rationalistic and classical
ideas which continued for a century to dominate
European criticism. But before the seventeenth cen-
tury was over, Shakespeare's growing reputation had
proved itself a rock against which the tendencies in
criticism had broken like unavailing waves. However
much they might insist on rules in art, critics were
generally willing to hail Shakespeare as the great ex-
ception. Champions were ready to answer Rymer and
to defend Shakespeare. Othello, selected by Rymer for
special analysis and condemnation, continued to hold

^Influence 171

its place on the stage and to incite dramatists to
emulation. The plays continued to be read, and new
editions were demanded. In the forty years from 1660
to 1700, in spite of great changes in theatrical condi-
tions, in spite of changes of taste in readers that
relegated most of Elizabethan drama to neglect, and
in spite of the formation of a criticism doubtful or
neglectful of the very qualities in literature that his
plays present, Shakespeare continued to win admirers.
By 1700 he was recognized as a dramatist and poet who
was one of the great possessions of the English race.

In the two centuries since, Shakespeare's fame and
influence have spread and multiplied to an extent
difficult to characterize justly in a brief summary.
Some important evidences of this growth may indeed
be collected and analyzed. The position and impor-
tance of his plays on the stage, the ever increasing
number of editions, the changing attitudes of critics
and men of letters — on these matters it is not diffi-
cult to draw conclusions as to Shakespeare's influence
at home and abroad. But it is not so easy to say
what his influence was on the literature of any genera-
tion, and still less easy to summarize with certainty
the effects on thought and feeling and conduct which
made up his continuing power over generation after
generation of readers. This much is clear, that a
study of Shakespeare's influence is in part a study of
changing ideas and ideals in literature — that as he
survived the Restoration taste, so he survived the new

jfacts about

classicism of the eighteenth and the romanticism of
the early nineteenth century. It is also clear that a
full record of the influence of Shakespeare on English-
speaking readers would touch on almost all the varied
changes of thought and conduct that have entered into
the history of two centuries.

The most important of the successive editions of
Shakespeare from that of Nicholas Rowe, 1709, to the
present time, have been noted in the history of the
text in Chapter VII. It must be observed that these
various publications indicate not only progress toward
establishing a sound text, but also a constantly increas-
ing number of readers. The multiplication of editions
kept pace with the vast extension of the middle-class
interest in literature. By the end of the eighteenth
century, the works of Shakespeare were in the posses-
sion of everyone who had a library, and with a text
and notes that left few difficulties for a person of any
education.

The nineteenth century well maintained the tradi-
tion of earlier scholarship. Malone's extensive anti-
quarian knowledge of Elizabethan drama and theater
served as the basis for further research in these fields
by Dyce, Ward, Fleay, and others. The chronological
order of the plays, which Malone was the first to in-
vestigate, was determined with considerable certainty
and gave a new significance to the study of Shake-
speare's work as a whole. Dyce, Sidney Walker, and
Wright, Delius of the Germans, Richard Grant White

*

173

of the Americans, are a few among the long list of
scholars who have added notable emendations and illus-
trative notes. Editions of the collected works indeed
soon became almost too numerous for record, and the
number of readings, notes, and illustrations too great
for collection even in the largest variorum. To-day
the task of scholarship may lie in the restriction, sim-
plification, and final determination of certain varying
editorial practices rather than in the accumulation of
further illustrative and appreciative comment. But
to the work of adding new editions there can be no
end so long as the number of readers increases. Vol-
umes of all sizes, for many classes, following various
editorial methods, are likely to continue to meet the
changing but ever increasing demands of English-
speaking readers. At the end of the nineteenth cen-
tury Shakespeare's works were not merely a household
possession, they were to be had in every possible form
to suit every possible taste or convenience.

The extension of Shakespeare's popularity on the
stage was concurrent with this widening range of
readers. In the first thirty years of the eighteenth
century, which marked a revolution in the nature of
the drama and the taste of the audiences, Shakespeare's
tragedies continued to be among the most frequently
acted stock plays at the two patented theaters. The
middle of the century saw the revival of most of the
romantic comedies and the appearance of David Gar-
rick. Some of the adaptations continued, but others

174 tClie jFacts about

were displaced by genuine Shakespeare, as in Macbeth,
The Merchant of Venice, and Romeo and Juliet. All's
Well That Ends Well, As You Like It, Cymbeline, Much
Ado, Twelfth Night, The Winter's Tale, were all revived.
In fact, if we include adaptations, every play of Shake-
speare was seen on the stage during the eighteenth
century, with the exceptions of 2 and 3 Henry VI, only
parts of these appearing, and of Love's Labour's Lost,
of which a version prepared for acting was published
in 1762 but not produced.

The traditions of Betterton had been carried on by
Wilks (1670-1732), Barton Booth (1681-1733), Colley
Cibber (1671-1757), and others. But the prevailing
manner was condemned as stiff and lifeless in com-
parison with the energy of Garrick's presentation.
From his first triumph in Richard III in 1741, to his
farewell performance of Lear in 1776, he won a series
of signal successes in both tragedy and comedy, in
Hamlet, Lear, Macbeth, Richard III, Falconbridge,
Romeo, Hotspur, lago, Leontes, Posthumus, Benedick,
and Antony. Garrick's services to Shakespeare ex-
tended beyond the parts which he impersonated. He
revived many plays, and though he garbled the texts
freely, yet in comparison with earlier practice he really
had some right to boast that he had restored the text of
Shakespeare to the stage. Further, his example led
to an increased popularity of Shakespeare in the theater
and afforded new incentives for other actors. Mrs.
Clive, Mrs. Cibber, and Mrs. Pritchard were among

fecmble anu ftcan 175

the women who acted with Garrick. Macklin, by his
revival of Shylock as a tragic character, Henderson by
his impersonation of Falstaff, and John Palmer in
secondary characters, as lago, Mercutio, Touchstone,
and Sir Toby, were his contemporaries most famous
in their day.

Garrick's place at the head of the English stage was
taken by John Philip Kemble (1757-1823), an actor
of great dignity of presence and manner, who won
general admiration in the great tragic parts, especially
those offering opportunities for declamation. His
sister, Mrs. Sarah Siddons, was doubtless the greatest
of English actresses ; her Lady Macbeth, Queen Kather-
ine, and Constance overwhelmed her audiences by
their majesty and passion. Kemble's reputation was
surpassed by Edmund Kean, whose appearance as
Shylock in 1819, at Drury Lane, was the first of a
series of great successes in most of the tragic parts,
including Hamlet, Lear, Othello, and Richard III. In
contrast to Kemble's declamation, Kean's acting was
vehement and passionate. Coleridge declared that to
see him was "reading Shakespeare by flashes of light-
ning." Readers of the dramatic criticism of Hazlitt
and Lamb will recall tributes to Kean and to other
favorite actors, especially perhaps their praise of Mrs.
Jordan's Viola and Rosalind. Macready for forty years
maintained the great traditions of English acting, and
during his managements of Drury Lane sought to re-
tain for Shakespeare's plays their preeminence on the

about

stage. Associated with his many impersonations were
those of Mrs. Warner and Helen Faucit (Lady Martin).
From Garrick's debut to the retirement of Macready
(1851) is a century of great actors and actresses who
brought to the interpretation of the many characters
of the plays a skill and intelligence that satisfied the
most critical theater-goers and extended vastly the
appreciation and knowledge of Shakespeare's men and
women.

Shakespeare's position on the stage was, however,
maintained only with difficulty against the melodramas,
musical farces, and spectacles that absorbed the theaters.
Yet from 1844 to 1862, Samuel Phelps, at Sadler's
Wells, presented thirty-one of the plays. Since then
the stage has hardly seen an equally important revival ;
but the great traditions of acting have been carried on
by many eminent actors : Sir Henry Irving, Ellen
Terry, Forbes Robertson, in England ; Edwin Forrest,
Edwin Booth, Junius Brutus Booth, Charlotte Cush-
man, Ada Rehan, Julia Marlowe, and Edward Sothern
in America. Lately, successful attempts have been
made to perform plays in the Elizabethan manner, and
perhaps there is a tendency to pay less attention to
elaborate scenic presentation than was the habit during
the last of the nineteenth century. In one respect, at
least, the present offers a decided improvement on the
past, for there is now a strong sentiment in favor of as
close an adherence as possible to an authorized text of
the plays.

(Eigtiteentl) Century 177

Shakespeare has held his place on the stage in spite
of many and great changes in theatrical conditions and
dramatic taste. He will probably survive changes
greater than those which separate the picture stage
with its electric lights from the projecting open-air
platform of his own day, or than those which separate
the dramas of Ibsen, Shaw, and Barrie from those of
Marlowe and Fletcher, or the cinematograph and
comic opera from the bear-baiting and jugglery which
rivaled the Globe. The visitor who scans, in the
Stratford Museum, the curious collection of portraits
of actors and actresses in Shakespearean parts may
wonder what peculiarities of costume, manner, and
expression will be devised for the admired interpreta-
tions of the centuries to come. But it hardly seems
possible that any actor of the future will influence as
greatly tlie appreciation of Shakespeare's characters
and speeches as did Garrick and Mrs. Siddons in Eng-
land or Edwin Booth in America.

Shakespearean criticism in the eighteenth century
was, as has been noted, largely textual, but there was
also a considerable discussion of Shakespeare's learn-
ing, his art, and its violations of neo-classical theory.
John Dennis, in his Letters, 1711, proved a sturdy ad-
mirer, and the consensus of opinion of following writers
was that of Sedley's couplet which described Shakespeare
as

The pride of Nature, and the shame of Schools,
Born to Create, and not to Learn from Rules.
N

i?8 tittle jfacttf about g>t)abe0peare

Voltaire's attacks brought rejoinders from Mrs. Eliza-
beth Montagu in 1769 and from Dr. Johnson in the
preface to his edition, 1765. In fact, admiration for
Shakespeare was a powerful factor in forcing the rejec-
tion of rules and standards of French criticism. John-
son's Preface finds fault with Shakespeare's neglect of
poetic justice and dwells at length on the faults in
plots and diction, but Johnson defends the violation of
the unities, and his praise is a discriminating summary
of the merits that the eighteenth century had found
in Shakespeare. It is praise that is likely to endure.

Within another generation, however, reverence for
Shakespeare had increased to an intensity that made
Johnson's admiration seem feeble and niggardly. This
transformation was due to many causes, but in the main
it was a part of the vast changes in European literature
known as the Romantic movement. This resulted in
a rejection of the rules and models of neo-classicism, a
new interest in the literature and manners of the
Middle Ages, a conception of poetry as the expression
of individuality, attention to the individual man in all
orders of society, a fresh concern for external nature,
an emphasis on the emotions rather than mere reason,
a desire for wonder and mystery, and an exaltation of
natural instincts and intuitions as opposed to general
truths or social -conventions. In each of these particu-
lars, Shakespeare seemed the complete fulfilment of the
new tendencies — which indeed his growing influence
had undoubtedly encouraged. More than Spenser or

appreciative Criticism 179

Milton or the old ballads, he was the inspiration and
guide for new endeavors in literature. It seemed to
the new age of critics and poets that they had redis-
covered him, and they hastened to raise him from neg-
lect to the throne of omniscience. He was no longer a
wayward genius, he was the model from whom art and
wisdom were to be learned.

This new criticism was esthetic and appreciative.
It did not try to balance Shakespeare's merits and
faults, or to test him by codes of arts or morals. It
recognized him as supreme, and its discipleship was
devoted to reverent interpretation and enthusiastic
admiration. Believing in the importance of the poetic
imagination in the affairs of men, it found in him a
gospel and an example for its creed. Its delightful
task was to find new beauties and to search out the
hiding-places that revealed the god of its idolatry.
If the genius of the master-poet was the source of art
and wisdom, the personality of the critic gained a new
refulgence through its service of reflecting the rays of
glory. The interest in the study of individual charac-
ters had resulted, even in Johnson's day, in some not-
able interpretive essays, as Maurice Morgann's on
Falstaff (1777). In the next generation, Coleridge,
Lamb, and Hazlitt in England, and Schlegel and
Goethe in Germany, brought the keenest intelligence
and most sympathetic taste to a criticism that aspired
to reveal the full range and height of Shakespeare's
creative faculty.

i8o Wqt jFaets about

The results of this criticism may be more specifically
summarized. (1) It viewed the individual characters
of the plays as if they were real persons, analyzing their
motives and elaborating or repainting their portraits,
as in the analyses of Hamlet by Goethe and Coleridge,
or in the brilliant sketches of Hazlitt. The few hun-
dred lines spoken by a leading character have thus
been expanded by the impressions made on successive
critics into volumes of biography. (2) Shakespeare's
works were studied as a whole in an effort to study
the development of his art and mind. Schlegel and
Coleridge gave a unity to the phenomena of the thirty-
seven plays that had not been recognized hitherto;
but they and their followers naturally tended to make
of their author a sort of nineteenth-century romanticist.
(3) Exalting the services of poetry and the creative
imagination, they viewed Shakespeare's exhibition of
human nature and his incidental wisdom as profound,
consistent, and immensely valuable for the human race.
Hence they were ever seeking in his work for a phi-
losophy, a synthetic ethics, and making the widest
applications of his words to conduct. Believing that
he could do no wrong, they inevitably came to attrib-
ute to him ideas and morals that were of their own
creation.

The defects of this criticism are most apparent in
critics like Ulrici and Gervinus who carry its methods
to extremes. Personal, fanciful, unhistorical, idola-
trous, it is yet a tremendous tribute and an amazing

^ineteentl) Cmtury 181

record of the sway that Shakespeare has exerted on the
human mind. The writings of no other man have
been studied so intimately by so many sympathetic
readers, or have excited such different impressions.
Throughout the nineteenth century this appreciative
criticism has continued, and Shakespeare has been
interpreted through the personality of many critics,
German and American, as well as British, more recently
through the delicate sensibility of Professor Dowden,
and the penetrating reflection of Professor A. C. Bradley.
At the end of the nineteenth century, Shakespearean
criticism has become too varied for a brief survey.
Textual and esthetic criticism both continue. The
biography has been established on a sound basis of
fact by Halliwell-Phillipps and Sidney Lee ; and still
new facts reward patient investigators of the legal and
court documents, almost the only records preserved
that can possibly bear on Shakespeare's life. Special
studies of all sorts have been numerous, as to his
reading, religion, folk-lore, and so on. More signifi-
cant in its effect on our general view have been the
efforts of historical criticism. As our knowledge of
Elizabethan literature, drama, theater, have increased,
it has been possible to see Shakespeare in relation
to his time and environment. The study of Shake-
speare as a sixteenth-century dramatist aims not
merely at a better appreciation of his work, but also
to explain his development and to account for some of
the qualities of his achievement. Its attitude is that

about

of the scientific historian examining the records of any
great human activity, and trying to understand its
causes, results, and meaning. Somewhat allied to this
has been technical dramatic criticism, which is uniting
knowledge of the Elizabethan theater with interest in
drama as a peculiar form, and thereby studying Shake-
speare as a dramatist rather than as a poet or philos-
opher. In fact, Shakespeare is no longer merely man,
poet, dramatist, philosopher, or genius. Jonson's tribute,
Dryden's summary, Johnson's judicial essay, or Cole-
ridge's admiring studies, all seem hopelessly inadequate
to express the range of his dominion. He has become
the source of the most various and extensive interests,
a continent that ever expands its fields for exploration,
an epoch that ever extends the years of its duration, a
race that never dies, though its progeny ever multiplies.
It is in the nineteenth century that Shakespeare's
dominance becomes international. Four of his plays
were acted at Dresden and elsewhere early in the
seventeenth century, but there seems to have been no
literary acquaintance with the plays in Germany until
about the middle of the eighteenth century, when two
poor translations of Julius Ccesar and Romeo and Juliet
appeared, and J. C. Gottsched severely criticized
Shakespeare's art. In 1759, in a journal, "Littera-
turbriefe," Lessing began a warm defense of Shake-
speare and declared his superiority to Racine and Cor-
neille. His Hamburgische Dramaturgic (1767) went
far in directing the change of taste from French clas-

3|n 45ermanE 183

sicism and in establishing Shakespeare in German
thought as the greatest of poets, whether ancient or
modern. A prose translation was begun by Wieland
in 1762 and completed by Eschenburg in 1789. What
is perhaps the best translation of Shakespeare into
any foreign tongue was begun in 1797 by A. W. von
Schlegel and Ludwig Tieck, two leaders of German
romanticism, and finally completed in 1853. Schlegel's
lectures on Shakespeare and the Drama were delivered
in Vienna in 1808, and present both the romanticist's
idolizing of Shakespeare and a new kind of esthetic
criticism destined to exercise great influence on Cole-
ridge and the English critics. Meanwhile Goethe was
adapting Romeo and Juliet for the Weimar theater
(1801) and Schiller was arranging Macbeth for presen-
tation at Stuttgart (1801) . Goethe indeed was, through-
out his life, an enthusiastic admirer of Shakespeare, and
his works are full of discriminating criticism, of which
perhaps the most famous passage is the analysis of
Hamlet in Wilhelm Meister. Since Lessing and Her-
der, German poetry and drama have felt Shakespeare's
influence, and in both textual and esthetic criticism,
Germany has rivaled England and the United States.
Delius and Schmidt, whose Shakespeare-Lexicon (1874)
is one of the great monuments of Shakespeare scholar-
ship, are perhaps first among textual students; since
1865 the German Shakespeare Society has published
yearly contributions of all kinds to Shakespeare criti-
cism, and especially an excellent bibliography. On the

184 W$t jfacts? about

stage Shakespeare has been constantly acted since the
beginning of the century, and has engaged the services
of some of the greatest actors, as Schroeder, the two
Devrients, and Barnay . At present a large number of his
plays are performed annually, in the smaller as well as
the larger cities, and more frequently than in Britain
or America. Twenty-six of the plays were acted in
1911, Othello leading with 158 performances. For the
years 1909, 1910, 1911, Hamlet, Othello, The Merchant
of Venice have been the favorites, with The Taming of
the Shrew and A Midsummer-Night's Dream the most
popular of the comedies. For over a century Shake-
speare has profoundly influenced German life and let-
ters. Rarely, if ever, has a great people been so power-
fully affected by a writer in a foreign tongue.

In France, during the eighteenth century, Shake-
speare's reputation was both aided and hindered by
Voltaire. Though there are a few earlier notices of
the English dramatist, Voltaire, after his visit to Eng-
land, 1720-1729, was virtually the first to win atten-
tion for Shakespeare. He admired Shakespeare,
acknowledged his influence, but deplored his deficien-
cies in taste and art, "le Corneille de Londres, grand
fou d'ailleurs, mais il a des morceaux admirables."
Voltaire's criticism provoked replies in England and a
defense from Diderot, who shared with Lessing the
effort to emancipate the drama from some of its neo-
classical restriction. Translations of twelve plays by
La Place (1745-1748) and all of the plays by Le Tour-

3fln jfranee 185

neur (1776-1782) gave an opportunity for greater
acquaintance with his work. A version of Hamlet by
Ducis was acted at Paris in 1769. But even at the
end of the century, French literary opinion, though
partly won by Le Tourneur's praise of Shakespeare,
still sympathized with Voltaire, now engaged in an
attack on Englishmen and their favorite. His last
opinion (1778) declares, "Shakespeare est un sauvage
avec des etincelles de genie qui brillent dans une nuit
horrible."

The nineteenth century saw a reaction from this
criticism, indicated by the praise of Madame de Stael
(De la Litterature, 1804), by Guizot's essay accompany-
ing a revision of Le Tourneur's translation (1821), and
later in the appreciation of Mezieres's Shakespeare ses
(Euvres et ses Critiques (1860), in several translations,
and in Victor Hugo's eulogy (1869). The best of the
translations is by the poet's son, Frangois Victor Hugo
in prose (1859-1866). On the Paris stage, the leading
English actors have appeared from time to time, and .
French versions of Hamlet, Macbeth, and Othello have )
made a permanent place. M. Jusserand is the chief
authority for the history of Shakespeare in France and
an ambassador of peace between the conflicting literary
tastes of the two nations.

In Italy, Holland, Russia, Poland, and Hungary,
during the nineteenth century, many of the plays have
been regularly acted, and from Italy have come great
actors and actresses, as Ristori, Salvini, and Rossi.

i86 tElje jFacts about

Complete translations have been published in these
countries and in Bohemian, Swedish, Danish, Finnish,
and Spanish ; and separate plays have been translated
and acted in many other languages including those of
India, Japan, and China.

In music and painting Shakespeare's influence has
also been international. Books have been devoted to
the history of Shakespeare's music, and such surveys
include nearly every English composer of note, and
also Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Berlioz, Am-
broise Thomas, Saint Saens, Rossini, and Verdi. In
painting as well, the persons and scenes of the play
have excited the efforts of English, German, and Ameri-
can artists.

In America, as has already been indicated, the in-
terest in Shakespeare is hardly separable from that in
Great Britain. Editors, critics, scholars, have been
numerous and their contributions important, and the
plays have been acted constantly and widely through
the country. Probably there is no part of the world
to-day where the study of Shakespeare is so active and
where the interest in his work is so widespread. In one
respect, at least, the United States in recent years has
carried this study and interest beyond England, in the
fields of education. As the study of the mother tongue
has become the basis of American education, so Shake-
speare has come to play a more and more important
part in the training of youth. The universities offer
training in the various departments of Shakespearean

31n tty tmntteti States? 187

scholarship, every college offers courses on his plays, a
number of them are prescribed for reading and study
in the high schools; a few of them are read and ex-
tracts memorized in the primary schools. The child
begins his education with Ariel and the fairies, and
until his schooling is completed is kept in almost daily
intercourse with the poetry and persons of the dramas.
Homer was not better known in Athens. In a democ-
racy still young and widely separated from older
nations and cultures, Shakespeare has become one of
the links that bind the American public not only to
the common inheritances of the English-speaking races,
but to the traditional culture of Europe.

Known in the literature and theater of every civilized
nation, the subject of a vast and increasing amount of
discussion and criticism, the source of a scholarship
rivaling that devoted to the writers of antiquity, the
familiar theme for music and painting, the household
possession of Great Britain, Germany, and America,
influencing thought and conduct as few books have
ever influenced them, and now an important element
in the education of a great democracy, — the plays of
Shakespeare occupy a position whence imagination
"can not pierce a wrink beyond, but doubt discovery
there." His reputation and influence must change
greatly in the years to come ; but this at least is secure
— three hundred years of an ever increasing sway over
the human mind.

CHAPTER X

CONCLUSION

THE purpose of this volume has been to summarize
what we know about Shakespeare. The documentary
records and early traditions of his life have been sup-
plemented by information in regard to the times and
places in which he lived, the literature which he read,
and the theaters for which he worked. The evolution
of the drama that grew up in those theaters has been
reviewed, and its manifest connections with Shake-
speare's own development have been indicated. That
development has been traced by means of a careful
determination of the chronology of the plays ; and the
recognition of this growth of his powers has been shown
to be a necessary basis for a just estimate of their
achievement.

If, now, in conclusion, we attempt to define our
general impression of the man and his work, this
must inevitably take into account considerations of
environment and development. The man belonged
to his era, his city, and his profession. The documents
make it plain that he did not live apart, but in close
contact with the affairs of his day and generation.
The plays make it clear that few men ever became so
1 88

Sonnets 189

intimately familiar with the manners, morals, and ideas
of their own time. There is no doubt that he drank
deeply of the experience that Elizabethan London offered
him. Still more, the plays make it clear that his life
was one of constant and extraordinary intellectual and
spiritual growth. Though, from the objective nature
of the dramas, it is impossible to translate them into
terms of personal experience or into exact stages of
mental growth, yet it is none the less evident that the
progress from the author of Love's Labour's Lost to the
author of The Tempest, from the creator of Richard III
and Valentine to the creator of lago and Antony, was
marked, not only by a widening experience, but also by
a development of personal character.

To understand a man's surroundings does not, how-
ever, reveal the man; and to measure the growth of
genius does not interpret its quality. Lovers of the
plays are likely always to query : What manner of man
was this ? Taken out of his London, at any time
in his career, how would he seem if we could know him
as a man ? Of what nature is this companion and
friend whose presence we have felt through all his
verses and in all of his characters ? The few clues of-
fered by records or tradition, and the difficulties in
separating the creator from the thousand men and
women of his creation, have driven many to seek an-
swers to these questions in the sonnets. There he
speaks in the first person, and there are revealed not
merely some dubious hints of actual incidents, but

IFacts? about

the surer indications of emotional conflicts that went
to the heart of the man's nature. At their worst,
the sonnets may have been only literary exercises on
conventional themes, but at their best they are surely
both superb poetry and the result of genuine emotion.
Can we doubt that the poet knew the pitfalls that
beset the course of human passion or that he had
faitk in the triumphant beauty of love and friendship ?
Yet the most splendid of these lyrical declarations of
faith add little to what we knew of the creator of the
lovers and friends of the dramas. The trivialities and
the sublimities, the sin and the idealism of the sonnets
coalesce with the emotional effects of the comedies and
tragedies. In forming our impression of the man,
whatever we may derive from the sonnets does not
contradict and does not largely affect the impressions
made by the poetry and humanity of the plays. For
the conception which each one forms of Shakespeare
the man must be derived in the main from the im-
pressions of personality implied by the plays. Such a
conception is bound to be individual and without
validity that can rest on proofs, but in the main it
has not varied greatly from individual to individual
or from generation to generation. From Jonson and
Dryden to Goethe and Tennyson, there has been no
great difference in the essentials of this estimate of
the man.

If the plays do not throw a clear light on matters
of conduct and exercise of the will, they certainly tell

tti? of Shakespeare 191

of no lack of self-control and no weakness or feverishness
of action. The traditions of conviviality and the re-
cords of a life of constant industry that secured wealth
and social position are both in accord with the impres-
sions derived from the plays of an eagerness for experi-
ence controlled by a self-mastery and a serenity of
purpose. If one were to search for a modern writer
most like Shakespeare, one would select Scott, rather
than Shelley, or Byron, or Wordsworth. As to the
intellectual quality of the author of the plays, it is
clear that he was not a Galileo or a Bacon. If we
judge intellectual power by its creation of system or
synthesis, we shall probably estimate Shakespeare less
highly than if we remember that intellect of the high-
est order is often displayed by maintaining openness and
largeness of view in face of the solicitations of theory or
prejudice. No one can read the plays in connection
with the literature of the time, or of any time, without
marveling at their freedom from vulgarity, pettiness,
or narrowness of mental attitude. If they do not
afford evidences of a profound culture in philosophy,
letters, or science, they offer no trace of intellectual
blindness or conceit, and they leave no doubt that
their author had thought greatly and fiesly. Even
more certain is their assurance of the range and in-
tensity of his emotional life. In these respects again,
no one can compare his work with that of other writers
without feeling the effect of his personality. Fletcher,
perhaps next to him among the Elizabethans in a

JFacts about

^versatile expression of a wide range of emotions, gives
Ino sign of the sincere, profound, and searching interest
/in humankind which we are sure was Shakespeare's.
Bacon, surpassing him perhaps in intellectual curiosity
and thoroughness, manifestly gives no evidence in
his writings of the warmth of sympathy, the quickness
of emotional response, the fire of passion which we find
in the author of Shakespeare's plays. It is difficult
to disbelieve that their imaginative participation in the
height and breadth of human feeling was the creation
of a man who united intellectual greatness with an
emotional susceptibility of extraordinary range and
delicacy, and with a sympathy, genial, wide, tolerant,
but also heartfelt, deep, and passionate. Such is
the ineffaceable impression of the man which has been
shared by many generations of readers, and which
found expression two hundred and fifty years ago in
Dry den's carefully considered estimate, "The man who
of all Moderns, and perhaps Ancient Poets, had the
largest and most comprehensive soul."

What of the plays themselves ? Is there any fixed
and universal estimate of their quality and significance
as literature ? In this volume we have been concerned
in reviewing our knowledge about them rather than
in their interpretation or evaluation. We have noted
the sources from which their plots were drawn, the
conditions under which they were produced in the play-
houses, the influences at work in the contemporary
drama which determined in some measure their sub-

dualities of fyt ipla^s; 193

jects and treatment. Starting with the probable
dates of their composition, we have traced them from
the theater to the printer, through the hands of
many editors, and through the long history of their
effects on theatergoers and readers. In their history
they have played a part in the changes of taste and opin-
ion of three centuries, and if they have grown greatly in
men's estimation, this has not been without much vari-
ability of appreciation and uncertainty as to their value.
What, then, are the qualities of the plays that raised
them at once above the measure of contemporary
influence and rivalry ? Are these the qualities that
have continued to win the most general appreciation ?
Despite all the stress we are to-day taught to place
on change, growth, evolution, are there qualities
in these plays which insure them a continued pre-
eminence in literature ?

Differences of opinion testify, indeed, to the compre-
hensive appeal, of the plays to different minds, nations,
or epochs, but they have not greatly affected the
essential elements in men's admiration. If some critic
brings into new prominence a quality that has partly
escaped attention, his discovery is not likely to affect
the more permanent elements of their reputation. If
for a time attention is turned to the plays as plays
rather than as poems and to the merits of Shakespeare
as a dramatist, this criticism does not lead to any
lasting disregard of their poetic quality or to the per-
manent acceptance of skill in dramatic structure
o

jfacts about

as a chief element in their literary preeminence. Nor
is such an element discoverable in their philosophical
synthesis or their incidental wisdom, although some of
the most brilliant criticism has exalted that wisdom
or sought to formulate and expound their view of life.
Concerning the essential elements of their greatness
no real difference of opinion has arisen from the time
they were written down to the present day. They were
lifted at once above the level of contemporary endeavor,
and they have continued to grow in reputation chiefly
because of their poetry and their characterization.

Concerning the nature and quality of these there is
little difference of opinion, though critics may vary
in estimating their beauty or value. One may prefer
the verse of Homer or of Milton, but he will not deny
the traits that distinguish Shakespeare's. Another
may prefer the well-ordered study of human motives
in Sophocles, or the realistic analysis of a modern
realist like Turgenieff , but he will recognize the qualities
in Shakespeare's characterization that are the basis of
general admiration. Still another may condemn that
admiration, but he will not differ from us as to the
chief sources of its existence.

These two sources are hardly to be separated, for the
persons are revealed through the beauty of the verse,
and the poetry is ever adapted to the speakers. In the
early plays the poet's fancy often refuses to be bound
by the requirements of his characters and escapes in
lyric or descriptive excursions ; but as his art becomes

of tfje ^A^ 195

more masterly, the poetry adapts itself with in-
creasing devotion to the dramatic task, discarding the
limitations of the verse form and even at times sacri-
ficing clarity and harmony of expression in its effort
to make a few lines significant of the thought and emo-
tion of some individual. An enormous vocabulary
is treated with daring freedom; words are coined,
changed, or restamped in order to let nothing of signifi-
cance escape. The effect is not primarily that of
finished workmanship or elaborate harmony, though
these may be found in many passages and notably in
the greatest of the sonnets. Broken rather than
completed images, richness of suggestion rather than
unity of impressiveness, surprise and novelty in words
rather than their delicate adjustment, make up an
effect of bewildering enchantment rather than of
perfected form. This is true even in an early play
like Romeo and Juliet, where the verse becomes un-
dramatic in order to make the most of every opportunity
for fancy or melody, and it is true also in Othello, where
poetry and characterization are wedded with consum-
mate art. The reader's pleasure is not in finding
each idea finally developed or each motive given full
elaboration. It is rather in the flow of words which
endow each person and moment with their wealth of
color and suggestion, and somehow carry on to the
reader both their impression of life and the transforming
power of their dignity and splendor.

In a last analysis the quality of the poetry is less

196 &\)t jfaettf about

dependent on the music of line or passage than on the
imagery of the words themselves. It seems as if the
imagination had hurried on Ariel's wing around the
universe in order to freight each phrase with a fresh
trope and an unexpected meaning. Sometimes, to
be sure, there results an excess or mixture of figures;
but restrained to character and situation, bound by
the measure of the pentameter, the carnival of words
becomes a gorgeous yet ordered pageant, the very
spectacle of beauty.

Let us take but one passage, not from the great
crises of passion, nor from those unsurpassable revela-
tions of the tortured spirit, but from the opening of a
play where the purpose is chiefly expository, and where
indeed the language is not free from that mixture of
figures which some condemn. The wonderful first
scene of Antony and Cleopatra, which within the com-
pass of its sixty-two lines presents the two protag-
onists and their background of empire and war,
opens thus in the speech of a subordinate.

Nay, but this dotage of our general's

O'erflows the measure. Those his goodly eyes,

That o'er the files and musters of the war

Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn

The office and devotion of their view

Upon a tawny front ; his captain's heart,

Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst

The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,

And is become the bellows and the fan

To cool a gipsy's lust.

Characterisation 197

A few lines further on Antony speaks thus, as he
embraces Cleopatra.

Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the rang'd Empire fall ! Here is my space.
Kingdoms are clay ; our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man ; the nobleness of life
Is to do thus, when such a mutual pair
And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to wit
We stand up peerless.

No other man ever wrote verse like this; and it is
hard to believe that words will ever again respond to
such a magician.

This poetry is the fitting accompaniment of a charac-
terization, the range and vitality of which, the world to
wit, stand up peerless. While these are in general
qualities of the Elizabethan drama, it is noteworthy
that almost from the beginning Shakespeare outstripped
his rivals. Launce, Richard III, Shylock, Juliet, were
enough to establish a supremacy. The years that
followed with their maturing thought and experience
gave an amazing development to what was manifestly
the native bent of his genius. Whatever else one may
find in the plays, indeed whatever one finds there of
wisdom or beauty, truth or art, it cannot be separated
from their revelation of human nature.

It is this primarily that makes the dramas great and
lasting. The histories, with all their pomp and move-
ment and patriotism, reveal kings and lords and

i98 tElie jfacts about

peasants as alike the subjects of changing fortune,
alike human beings for our pity, admiration, or laughter.
The comedies with their fancy and sentiment and fun,
and their perennial sunshine on the self-deceived and
selfish, are ruled by the most charming and refined
of womankind. The tragedies with their presentation
of the waste and suffering of life, though here depravity
may seem to fill the scene and innocence share in the
punishment and ruin, yet redeem us from the terror
of their devastation by their assurances of both the
majesty and the loveliness of men and women.

Shakespeare's methods in characterization have
seemed to some haphazard and bewildering. He does
not fit his men and women into an analysis of the con-
stitution of society or into an obvious view of man's
relations in the universe. Nor does he use his charac-
ters to illustrate fixed conceptions or processes of cause
and effect. He usually started with an old story, with
certain types of character, and he was not forgetful
of theatrical necessities or dramatic construction. But
as he went on he brought all his astounding interest
in human nature to focus on the old plot and the stock
type. Hamlet, the hesitating avenger, becomes the senti-
mentalist, the idealist, the thinker at war with himself,
the embodiment of that conflict between circumstance
and a nature unfitted to its task, which in some measure
we have all encountered in life. An arrogant and
doting old man, by the force of creative imagination,
transcends the nursery tale from which he came, and

J^uman ^ature 199

carries to us all the implications of suffering and love
that surround the aging of parents and the growth of
children. Cleopatra is a wanton, but no analysis
can explain the subtleties with which the idealism and
animalism, the sacrifice and frivolity — and how much
else — of human passion are bound together in the few
hundred lines which she speaks. It is impossible to
affirm that each of the great characters is thoroughly
consistent or offers a strictly accurate motivation.
Rather, they are magnificent portraits — like the
Mona Lisa — crowded with a penetrating but question-
provoking psychology. Into such parts and situations
as the drama could afford are impressed every
possible revelation of our motives ; but his model was
always reality and he never yielded truth to whim or
prepossession.

Human nature, at its best or worst, droll or tragic,
is thus given magnitude and potency. This idealization,
rendered still more effective by the verse, persuades
us as we read that here are our own attributes and
conflicts exalted, now into serene beauty, again
into torment and horror, and again into the Olympic
warfare of unknown supermen. No doubt there is
confusion because of the complexity of motives depicted
and the multiplicity of impressions created, but there
is also a final message of the greatness and comprehen-
siveness of human souls. In this world of sin and
weakness and death, it is human beings, however
mocked or maltreated by circumstance or by them-

200 Ctje 5Fact£ about

selves, that are still triumphant and interesting. Out
of his strifes and failures, the individual man yet
emgrges, the object of our contemplation and the
assurance of our faith.

In periods or persons when interest in the individual
gives way to thought about class or system or some
form of organization, it is likely that admiration for
Shakespeare's plays will suffer a decline. In periods
or persons when the individual assumes a larger place in
thought and his power to affect and dominate the world
is emphasized, the plays are likely to acquire a new
regard. As long, however, as the study of human
nature is a chief occupation of mankind and as long
as we believe that a great purpose of imaginative litera-
ture is to enlarge our knowledge and sympathy for
our fellows, so long, we may be sure, these dramas will
not lose their preeminence in literature.

APPENDICES

BIOGRAPHICAL DOCUMENTS AND AUTHORITIES

I. REPOSITORIES OF DOCUMENTS

L. refers to Lambert's Shakespeare Documents and H.-P. to
Halliwell-Phillipps's Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare. 7th ed.

1

THE PARISH REGISTERS OF STRATFORD-ON-AVON are the
authority for the baptisms of John Shakespeare's seven chil-
dren (L. 1-7) ; for the burials of Anne and Edmund (L. 10) ;
for the baptisms of William Shakespeare's daughter Susanna
(L. 13) and the twins, Hamnet and Judith (L. 14) ; for the
burials of Hamnet (L. 28), of the poet's father, John (L. 75),
of his mother, Mary (L. 110), of the poet himself (L. 146),
and of his widow (L. 159). These Registers have been edited
for the Parish Registers Society, by R. Savage, 1898-9.

2

THE CORPORATION RECORDS OF STRATFORD-ON-AVON con-
tain the Quiney-Sturley correspondence (L. 39, 43, 44 ; H.-P.
II. 57-60) ; a return of the quantities of corn and malt held
by the inhabitants of the ward in which New Place was situ-
ated, " Wm. Shackespere" being down for ten quarters (L. 53) ;
a Bill of Complaint presented by R. Lane, T. Green, and
William Shakespeare respecting the tithes of Stratford-upon-
203

304

Avon (L. 125) ; the answer of William Combe to the fore-
going Bill (L. 126).

3

THE PUBLIC RECORD OFFICE IN LONDON preserves the fol-
lowing : record of the purchase by John Shakespeare of two
houses on Henley Street, Stratford-on-Avon (L. 8) ; record
of a mortgage on an estate at "Awston Cawntlett" given to
Edmund Lambert by John and Mary Shakespeare (L. 9) ;
Bill of Complaint brought by John Shakespeare against John,
son of Edmund Lambert, respecting an estate at Wilmecote,
near Stratford (L. 15) ; Ms. accounts of the Treasurer of the
Chamber, "To Willm. Kempe, Willm. Shakespeare &
Richarde Burbage, servaunts to the Lord Chamberleyne, upon
the Councelles warrant dated at Whitehall xvto Marcij 1594
for twoe severall Comedies or enterludes shewed by them
before her Majestic in Christmas tyme laste paste, viz : upon
St. Stephens daye and Innocentes daye xiij.li. vj.s. viijd.,
and by waye of her Majesties rewarde vj.li. xiii.s. iiijd. in all
xx.li." (L. 25) ; record of the purchase of New Place by Shake-
speare (L. 32) ; papers in a Chancery suit relating to the
estate at Wilmecote mortgaged to Edmund Lambert, and
consisting of a Bill of Complaint by John and Mary Shake-
speare against John Lambert for his refusal to accept £40
and reconvey the property to the complainants, John Lam-
bert's answer, and the replication of John and Mary Shake-
speare to the answer (L. 35) ; a subsidy roll showing William
Shakespeare as a defaulter in respect of a tax of five shillings,
October, 1596, and of thirteen shillings and four pence, Octo-
ber, 1598, based on an assessment made about 1593 or 1594,
when the poet was living in St. Helen's, Bishopsgate, and
paid after he had moved to Southwark (Athenaeum, March 16,
1906, and L. 42) ; Royal Warrant for a Patent and the Patent

li5tograp!ncai Documents 205

itself (May 19, 1603) licensing the company of actors, "Lau-
rence Fletcher, William Shakespeare, Richard Burbage, Augus-
tine Phillippes, John Hemmings, Henrie Condell, William Sly,
Robert Armyn, Richard Cowly and the rest of their associates"
as the King's Servants (L. 87, 88) ; the Accounts of the Revels
at Court in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, containing
entries showing performances at Court of "The Moor of
Venis," "The Merry Wives of Winsor," "Mesur for Mesur"
by "Shaxberd," "the plaie of Errors" by "Shaxberd,"
"Loves Labours lost," "Henry the fift," and "the Martchant
of Venis" by "Shaxberd" (twice, being "againe commanded
by the Kings Matle"), all in 1604 (O.S.), of "the Tempest"
and "ye winters nightes Tayle" in 1611, all by the King's
men, and of the performance before the Court at Wilton,
Dec. 2, 1603 (L. 96, 133, Notes in the History of the Revels
Office under the Tudor s, ed. by E. K. Chambers, and Supposed
Shakespeare Forgeries, by Ernest Law) ; record of the purchase
in 1610 of an estate in Old Stratford and Stratford-on-Avon
by Shakespeare from William and John Combe (L. 127) ;
three documents in a Chancery suit relating to the ownership
of property in Blackfriars, April 26, May 15, May 22, 1615
(C. W. Wallace in Englische Studien, April, 1906, and Preface
to New Edition of Lee's Life, xxii ff.) ; the grant for cloaks
for the King's entry into London, March 15, 1604 (Ld. Cham-
berlain's Papers, No. 600) ; the documents in the law suit
among the heirs of Richard Burbage (1635), relating to the
ownership of the Globe and the Blackfriars theaters, and
giving much information on the value of theatrical shares,
actors' salaries, etc. (H.-P. i. 312-319) ; and the documents
in the lawsuit of Bellots vs. Mountjoy (1612), including Shake-
speare's deposition (New Shakespeare Discoveries, C. W. Wal-
lace, Harper's Magazine, March, 1910).

206 #ppenDt]r a

4

THE SHAKESPEARE'S BIRTHPLACE MUSEUM IN STRATFORD-
ON-AVON contains several documents of importance: record
of the conveyance in 1602 of an estate in Old Stratford from
William and John Combe to William Shakespeare (L. 79,
H.-P. II, 17-19) ; extract from the Court Rolls of the Manor
of Rowington, transferring from Walter Getley to William
Shakespeare certain premises in Chapel Lane, Stratford-on-
Avon (L. 81) ; the conveyance to Shakespeare from Ralph
Hubande of the residue of a lease of a moiety of the tithes of
Stratford-on-Avon, Old Stratford, Welcombe, and Bishopton
(L. 99) ; the diary of one Thomas Greene, containing a refer-
ence to the dispute as to the inclosing of common lands (re-
produced in facsimile in C. M. Ingleby's Shakespeare and the
Enclosure of Common Fields at Welcombe, 1885).

THE BRITISH MUSEUM possesses the Ms. diary of John
Manningham of the Middle Temple, which, under the date of
Feb. 2, 1601, records a performance of Twelfth Night, and the
anecdote recorded above, p. 44 (L. 77; Ms. Harl. 5353, ed.
Camden Soc., p. 39) ; also the Mortgage Deed from Shake-
speare to Henry Walker on the property in Blackfriars con-
veyed to Shakespeare and others on the day previous, March
10, 1612/13.

6

THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY AT OXFORD has the Ms. diary of
Dr. Simon Forman describing performances of Winter s Tale,
Cymbeline, and Macbeth in 1610 and 1611 (L. 128; Ms.
Ashmol. 208, fol. 2016) ; and the Accounts of Lord Stanhope
of Harrington, Treasurer of the Chamber to James I, contain-
ing the following entry : "1613, May 20. Item paid to John

Biographical 2Document$ 207

Heminges uppon the cowncells warrant dated att Whitehall
xx° die Maii 1613 for presentinge before the Princes highnes
the La : Elizabeth and the Prince Pallatyne Elector fowerteene
severall playes viz ... Much adoe abowte nothinge . . .
The Tempest . . . The Winters Tale, Sr John Falstafe,
The Moore of Venice . . . Caesars Tragedye ... All wch
Playes weare played within the tyme of this Accompte, viz
pd the some of iiij. (xx.) xiij.li. vj.s. viij.d.

"Item paid to the said John Heminges uppon the lyke
warrant dated att Whitehall xx° die Maij 1613 for presenting
sixe severall playes viz. one playe called . . . And one other
called Benidicte and Betteris all played within the tyme of
this Accompte viz pd ffortie powndes And by waye of his
Ma118 rewarde twentie powndes In all ... Ix li." (L. 138 ;
Ms. Rawl. A.

7

THE EPISCOPAL REGISTER OF THE DIOCESE OF WORCESTER
contains the bond given by Sandells and others for the mar-
riage of Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway (L. 12).

8

THE LIBRARY OF THE GUILDHALL IN LONDON has the in-
denture prepared for the purchaser in the sale of the house in
Blackfriars on March 10, 1613, by Henry Walker to William
Shakespeare and others (L. 136). The indenture held by the
seller is in the library of Mr. Marsden J. Perry, Providence,
R. I.

THE PRINCIPAL PROBATE REGISTRY, Somerset House.
London, contains Shakespeare's Will, which runs as follows :

208

1VicESiMO quinto die [Januarii] Martii, anno regni domini
nostri Jacobi, nunc regis Anglise, &c., decimo quarto, et
Scotise xlix°, annoque Domini 1616.

— T. WMI. SHACKSPEARE

In the name of God, Amen ! I William Shackspeare, of
Stratford upon Avon in the countie of Warr., gent., in perfect
health and memorie, God be praysed, doe make and ordayne
this my last will and testament in manner and forme followe-
ing, that ys to saye, ffirst, I comend my soule into the handes
of God my Creator, hoping and assuredlie beleeving, through
thonelie merittes, of Jesus Christe my Saviour, to be made par-
taker of lyfe everlastinge, and my bodye to the earth whereof
yt ys made. Item, I gyve and bequeath unto my [sonne and] 2
daughter Judyth one hundred and fyftie poundes of lawfull
English money, to be paied unto her in the manner and forme
foloweng, that ys to saye, one hundred poundes in discharge
of her marriage porcion within one yeare after my deceas, with
consideracion after the rate of twoe shillinges in the pound
for soe long tyme as the same shalbe unpaied unto her after
my deceas, and the fyftie poundes residwe thereof upon her
surrendring of, or gyving of such sufficient securitie as the
overseers of this my will shall like of, to surrender or graunte
all her estate and right that shall discend or come unto her
after my deceas, or that shee nowe hath, of, in, or to, one copie-
hold tenemente, with thappurtenaunces, lyeing and being in
Stratford upon Avon aforesaied in the saied countye of Warr.,
being parcell or holden of the mannour of Rowington, unto
my daughter Susanna Hall and her heires for ever. Item, I

1 The words which have been erased are put between brackets ; those
which have been interlined are printed in italics.

8 So Lambert. Halliwell-Phillipps reads "sonne in L."

209

gyveand bequeath unto my saied daughter-Judith one hundred
and fyftie poundes more, if shee or anie issue of her bodie be
lyvinge att thend of three yeares next ensueing the daie of the
date of this my will, during which tyme my executours are
to paie her consideracion from my deceas according to the
rate aforesaied ; and if she dye within the saied tearme with-
out issue of her bodye, then my will ys, and I doe gyve and
bequeath one hundred poundes thereof to my neece Elizabeth
Hall, and the fiftie poundes to be sett fourth by my executours
during the lief of my sister Johane Harte, and the use and
proffitt thereof cominge shalbe payed to my saied sister Jone,
and after her deceas the saied l.li- shall remaine amongst the
children of my saied sister, equallie to be divided amongst
them ; but if my saied daughter Judith be lyving att thend
of the saied three yeares, or anie yssue of her bodye, then my
will ys, and soe I devise and bequeath the saied hundred and
fyftie poundes to be sett out by my executours and overseers
for the best benefitt of her and her issue, and the stock not to
be paied unto her soe long as she shalbe marryed and covert
baron [by my executours and overseers] ; but my will ys, that
she shall have the consideracion yearelie paied unto her
during her lief, and, after her deceas, the saied stock and
consideracion to bee paied to her children, if she have anie,
and if not, to her executours or assignes, she lyving the saied
terme after my deceas. Provided that yf suche husbond as
she shall att thend of the saied three years be marryed unto,
or att anie after (sic), doe sufficientlie assure unto her and
thissue of her bodie landes awnswereable to the porcion by this
my will gyven unto her, and to be adjudged soe by my execu-
tours and overseers, then my will ys, that the said cl.M- shalbe
paied to such husbond as shall make such assurance, to his
owne use. Item, I gyve and bequeath unto my saied sister
P

210

Jone xx.M- and all my wearing apparrell, to be paied and de-
livered within one yeare after my deceas ; and I doe will and
devise unto her the house with thappurtenaunces in Stratford,
wherein she dwelleth, for her naturall lief, under the yearlie
rent of xij .d> Item, I gyve and bequeath unto her three sonnes,
William Harte, . . . Hart, and Michaell Harte, fyve pounds
a peece, to be paied within one yeare after my deceas [to be
sett out for her within one yeare after my deceas by my execu-
tours, with thadvise and direccions of my overseers, for her
best profitt, untill her mariage, and then the same with the
increase thereof to be paied unto her]. Item, I gyve and
bequeath unto [her] the saied Elizabeth Hall, all my plate,
except my brod silver and gilt bole, that I now have att the
date of this my will. Item, I gyve and bequeath unto the
poore of Stratford aforesaied tenn poundes ; to Mr. Thomas
Combe my sword ; to Thomas Russell esquier fyve poundes ;
and to Frauncis Collins, of the borough of Warr. in the countie
of Warr. gentleman, thirteene poundes, sixe shillinges, and
eight pence, to be paied within one yeare after my deceas.
Item, I gyve and bequeath to [Mr. Richard Tyler th elder]
Hamlett Sadler xxvj.s- viij.d- to buy him a ringe; to William
Raynoldes gent., xxvj.s- viij.d- to buy him a ringe; to my godson
William Walker xxs- in gold ; to Anthonye Nashe gent., xxvj.s-
viij.d- ; and to Mr. John Nashe xxvj.s- viij.d- [in gold] ; and to
my fellowes John Hemynges, Richard Burbage, and Henry Cun-
dell, xxvj.s- viij.d- a peece to buy them ringes. Item, I gyve, will,
bequeath, and devise, unto my daughter Susanna Hall, for
better enabling of her to performe this my will, and towards the
performans thereof, all that capitall messuage or tenemente
with thappurtenaunces, in Stratford aforesaid, called the New
Place, wherein I nowe dwell, and two messuages or tenementes
with thappurtenaunces, scituat, lyeing, and being in Henley

Will

streets, within the borough of Stratford aforesaied; and all
my barnes, stables, orchardes, gardens, landes, tenementes,
and hereditamentes, whatsoever, scituat, lyeing, and being,
or to be had, receyved, perceyved, or taken, within the townes,
hamletes, villages, fieldes, and groundes, of Stratford upon
Avon, Oldstratford, Bushopton, and Welcombe, or in anie of
them in the saied countie of Warr. And alsoe all that mes-
suage or tenemente with thappurtenaunces, wherein one John
Robinson dwelleth, scituat, lyeing and being, in the Black-
friers in London, nere the Wardrobe ; and all my other landes,
tenementes, and hereditamentes whatsoever, To have and to
hold all and singuler the saied premisses, with theire appur-
tenaunces, unto the saied Susanna Hall, for and during the
terme of her naturall lief, and after her deceas, to the first
sonne of her bodie lawfullie yssueing, and to the heires males
of the bodie of the saied first sonne lawfullie yssueinge ; and
for defalt of such issue, to the second sonne of her bodie, law-
fullie issueinge, and [of ] to the heires males of the bodie of the
saied second sonne lawfullie yssueinge ; and for defalt of such
heires, to the third sonne of the bodie of the saied Susanna
lawfullie yssueing, and of the heires males of the bodie of the
saied third sonne lawfullie yssueing; and for defalt of such
issue, the same soe to be and remaine to the ffourth [sonne],
ffyfth, sixte, and seaventh sonnes of her bodie lawfullie issue-
ing, one after another, and to the heires males of the bodies
of the saied fourth, fifth, sixte, and seaventh sonnes lawfullie
yssueing, in such manner as yt ys before lymitted to be and
remaine to the first, second, and third sonns of her bodie, and
to theire heires males; and for defalt of such issue, the said
premisses to be and remaine to my sayed neece Hall, and the
heires males of her bodie lawfullie yssueinge ; and for defalt
of such issue, to my daughter Judith, and the heires males of

her bodie lawfullie issueinge ; and for defalt of such issue, to
the right heires of me the saied William Shakspeare for ever.
Item, I gyve unto my wief my second best bed with the furniture.
Item, I gyve and bequeath to my saied daughter Judith my
broad silver gilt bole. All the rest of my goodes, chattels,
leases, plate, jewels, and household stuff e whatsoever, after
my dettes and legasies paied, and my funerall expenses dis-
chardged, I give, devise, and bequeath to my sonne in lawe,
John Hall gent., and my daughter Susanna, his wief, whom I
ordaine and make executours of this my last will and testa-
ment. And I doe intreat and appoint the saied Thomas
Russell esquier and Frauncis Collins gent, to be overseers
hereof, and doe revoke all former wills, and publishe this
to be my last will and testament. In witness whereof I
have hereunto put my [scale] hand, the daie and yeare first
abovewritten.

By me WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.
Witnea to the publyshing hereof,

FBA: CoLLYNS,1

JULTUS SHAWE,

JOHN ROBINSON,

HAMNET SADLER,

ROBERT WHATTCOTT.

Probatum coram magistro Willielmo Byrde, legum doctore
comiss. &c. xxijdo- die mensis Junii anno Domini 1616,
juramento Johannis Hall, unius executorum, &c. cui &c.
de bene &c. jurat, reservat. potestate &c. Susannae Hall,
alteri executorum &c. cum venerit petitur, &c. (Inv.
ex.)

1 Francis Collyns was the lawyer at Warwick who prepared the will,
of which the draft only was executed, no time being possible for an en-
grossed copy. — Note by Lambert.

Documents 213

10

THE HERALDS' COLLEGE has the two drafts of a grant of
arms to John Shakespeare in 1596 (Ms. Vincent. Coll. Arm.
157, arts. 23, 24) ; and the confirmation of the grant in 1599
(L. 30, 55). For further details on the matter of the coat of
arms, see Herald and Genealogist, i. 510, and for facsimiles,
Miscellanea Genealogica et Heraldica, 2d ser. 1886, i. 109.
On the criticism of the herald's complaisance hi the matter of
the Shakespeare and similar grants, see Preface to New Edi-
tion (1909) of Lee's Life, pp. xi-xv.

11

THE STATIONERS' REGISTER, accessible in the Transcript
edited by E. Arber, 5 vols. 1875-94, contains the records of the
entries of those of Shakespeare's works which were registered
either with or without his name. The Shakespearean entries
are gathered out of the great mass contained in these volumes
by Lambert, Fleay, Stokes, H. P., Chronological Order of
Shakespeare's Plays, 1878, Appendix V, and others.

12. MISCELLANEOUS

The literary allusions to Shakespeare in the sixteenth and
earlier seventeenth centuries have been collected in Shake-
speare's Century of Praise, revised and reedited by J. Munro
as The Shakespeare Allusion Books, London, 1909.

Greene's attack in Greenes Groatsworth will be found in its
context in his works, ed. A. B. Grosart, 1881-1886, and
Chettle's Apology in his Kind Hartes Dreame, Percy Society,
1874.

The Historical MSS. Commission's Report on the Historical
MSS. of Belvoir Castle, IV. 494, contains the entry from the
Belvoir Household Book as to Rutland's "impresa." See also

Times, December 27, 1905, and Preface to New Edition of
Lee's Life, pp. xvi-xxii.

13. EXTRACTS FROM MERES'S PALLADIS TAMIA, 1598
As the Greeke tongue is made famous and eloquent by
Homer, Hesiod, Euripedes, dEschilus, Sophocles, Pindarus,
Phocylides and Aristophanes ; and the Latine tongue by Virgill,
Ovid, Horace, Silius Italicus, Lucanus, Lucretius, Ausonius
and Claudianus: so the English tongue is mightily enriched,
and gorgeouslie invested in rare ornaments and resplendent
abiliments by sir Philip Sidney, Spencer, Daniel, Drayton,
Warner, Shakespeare, Marlow and Chapman.

As the soule of Euphorbus was thought to live in Pythagoras :
so the sweete wittie soule of Ovid lives in mellifluous & hony-
tongued Shakespeare, witnes his Venus' and Adonis, his Lucrece,
his sugred Sonnets among his private friends, &c.

As Plautus and Seneca are accounted the best for Comedy
and Tragedy among the Latines, so Shakespeare among ye
English is the most excellent in both kinds for the stage ; for
Comedy, witnes his Getleme of Verona, his Errors, his Love
labors lost, his Love labours wonne, his Midsummers night
dreame, & his Merchant of Venice: for Tragedy, his Richard
the 2, Richard the 3, Henry the 4, King lohn, Titus Andronicus,
and his Romeo and luliet.

As Epius Stolo said, that the Muses would speake with
Plautus tongue, if they would speak Latin : so I say that the
Muses would speak with Shakespeares fine filed phrase, if
they would speake English.

As Ovid saith of his worke:

lamque opus exegi, quod nee lovis ira, nee ignis,
Nee poterit ferrum, nee edax abolere vetustas.

detracts ftom $)ere$ 215

And as Horace saith of his ; Exegi monumentum cere peren-
nius; Regalique; situ pyramidum altius; Quod non imber
edax; Non Aquilo impotens possit diruere; aut innumerdbilis
annorum feries &c fuga temporum: so say I severally of sir
Philip Sidneys, Spencers, Daniels, Draytons, Shakespeares, and
Warners workes;

As Pindarus, Anacreon and Callimachus among the Greekes ;
and Horace and Catullus among the Latines are the best
Lyrick Poets : so in this faculty the best among our Poets
are Spencer (who excelleth in all kinds) Daniel, Dray ton,
Shakespeare, Bretton.

As ... so these are our best for Tragedie, the Lorde
Buckhurst, Doctor Leg of Cambridge, Doctor Edes of Oxforde,
maister Edward Ferris, the Authour of the Mirrour for Magis-
trates, Marlow, Peele, Watson, Kid, Shakespeare, Drayton,
Chapman, Decker, and Benjamin Johnson.
... so the best for Comedy amongst us bee, Edward Earle of
Oxforde, Doctor Gager of Oxforde, Maister Rowley once a
rare Scholler of learned Pembroke Hall in Cambridge, Maister
Edwardes one of her Maiesties Chappell, eloquent and wittie
John Lilly, Lodge, Gascoyne, Greene, Shakespeare, Thomas
Nash, Thomas Heywood, Anthony Mundye our best plotter,
Chapman, Porter, Wilson, Hathway, and Henry Chettle.
... so these are the most passionate among us to bewaile
and bemoane the perplexities of Love, Henrie Howard Earle
of Surrey, sir Thomas Wyat the elder, sir Francis Brian, sir
Philip Sidney, sir Walter Rawley, sir Edward Dyer, Spencer,
Daniel, Drayton, Shakespeare, Whetstone, Gascoyne, Samuell
Page sometimes fellowe of Corpus Christi Colledge in Oxford,
Churchyard, Bretton.

216

14. THE INSCRIPTION ON SHAKESPEARE'S MONUMENT IN
THE CHURCH OP THE HOLY TRINITY, STRATFORD-ON-AVON

Judicio Pylium, genio Socratem, arte Maronem
Terra tegit, populus maeret, Olympus habet.

Stay, passenger, why goest thou by so fast ?
Read, if thou canst, whom envious death hath plast
Within this monument : Shakespeare with whome
Quick nature dide ; whose name doth deck ys tombe
Far more than cost ; sith all yt he hath writt
Leaves living art but page to serve his witt.

Obiit ano. doi 1616. ^Etatis 53. Die 23 Ap.

15. THE INTRODUCTORY MATTER IN THE FIRST FOLIO
TO THE MOST NOBLE

AND

INCOMPARABLE PAIRE OF BRETHREN.

WILLIAM

Earle of Pembroke, &c. Lord Chamberlaine to the
Kings most Excellent Maiesty.

AND

PHILIP
Earle of Montgomery, &c. Gentleman of his Maiesties Bed-

Chamber.
Both Knights of the most Noble Order of the Garter,

and our singular good LORDS.
Right Honourable,

WHILST we studie to be thankful in our particular, for the
many fauors we haue receiued from your L. L. we are falne
vpon the ill fortune, to mingle two the most diuerse things
that can bee, feare, and rashnesse; rashnesse in the enter-
prize, and feare of the successe. For, when we valew the

217

places ycr-if H. H. sustaine, we cannot but know their dignity
greater, then to descend to the reading of these trifles : and,
while we name them trifles, we haue depriu'd our selues of
the defence of our Dedication. But since your L. L. haue
beene pleas'd to thinke these trifles some-thing, heeretofore ;
and haue prosequuted both them, and their Authour liuing,
with so much fauour: we hope, that (they out-liuing him,
and he not hauing the fate, common with some, to be exequutor
to his owne writings) you will vse the like indulgence toward
them, you haue done vnto their parent. There is a great
difference, whether any Booke choose his Patrones, or finde
them : This hath done both. For, so much were your L. L.
likings of the seuerall parts, when they were acted, as before
they were 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: without ambition either of selfe-
profit, or fame : onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a
Friend, & Fellow aliue, as was our SHAKESPEARE, by humble
offer of his playes, to your most noble patronage. Wherein,
as we haue iustly obserued, no man to come neere your L. L.
but with a kind of religious addresse ; it hath bin the height
of our care, who are the Presenters, to make the present
worthy of your H. H. by the perfection. But, there we must
also craue our abilities to be considerd, my Lords. We can-
not go beyond our owne powers. Country hands reach foorth
milke, creame, fruites, or what they haue : and many Nations
(we haue heard) that had not gummes & incense, obtained
their requests with a leauened Cake. It was no fault to ap-
proch 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 consecrate to your H. H. these remaines of your

seruant SHAKESPEARE ; 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 so carefull to shew their gratitude
both to the liuing, and the dead, as is

Your Lordshippes most bounden,

IOHN HEMINGE.

HENRY CONDELL.

To the Great Variety of Readers. — From the most able to
him that can but spell ; — there you are number'd. We had
rather you were weighd, especially when the fate of all bookes
depends upon your capacities, and not of your heads alone,
but of your purses. Well ! It is now publique, and you will
stand for your privileges wee know ; to read and censure.
Do so, but buy it first. That doth best commend a booke,
the stationer saies. Then, how odde soever your braines be,
or your wisedomes, make your licence the same and spare
not. Judge your sixe-pen'orth, your shillings worth, your five
shillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rise to the just
rates, and welcome. But, whatever you do, buy. Censure
will not drive a trade or make the jacke go. And though you
be a magistrate of wit, and sit on the stage at Black-Friers
or the Cock-pit to arraigne playes dailie, know, these playes
have had their triall alreadie, and stood out all appeales, and
do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of Court than
any purchas'd letters of commendation.

It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to have bene
wished, that the author himselfe had liv'd to have set forth
and overseen his owne writings ; but since it hath bin ordain 'd
otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray
you do not envie his friends the office of their care and paine
to have collected and publish'd them ; and so to have pub-

JFtet JFolto 219

lish'd them, as where (before) you were abus'd with diverse
stolne and surreptitious copies, maimed and deformed by the
frauds and stealthes of injurious impostors that expos'd
them ; even those are now offer'd to your view cur'd and
perfect of their limbes, and all the rest absolute in their num-
bers as he conceived them ; who, as he was a happie imitator
of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it. His mind and
hand went together ; and what he thought, he uttered with
that easinesse that wee have scarse received from him a blot in
his papers. But it is not our province, who onely gather his
works 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 then it could be lost. Reade him, there-
fore ; and againe and againe ; and if then you doe not like
him, surely you are in some manifest danger not to under-
stand him. And so we leave you to other of his friends, whom,
if you need, can bee your guides. If you neede them not,
you can leade yourselves and others ; and such readers we
wish him. — lohn Heminge. — Henrie Condell.

TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOUED,
THE AVTHOR

ME. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE:

AND

what he hath left vs.

To draw no enuy (Shakespeare) on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy Booke, and Fame :

While I confesse thy writings to be such,

As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much.

220 amofr SL

'Tis true, and all mens suffrage. But these wayes

Were not the paths I meant vnto thy praise :
For seeliest Ignorance on these may light,

Which, when it sounds at best, but eccho's right ;
Or blinde Affection, which doth ne're aduance

The truth, but gropes, and vrgeth all by chance ;
Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise,

And thinke to ruine, where it seem'd to raise.
These are, as some infamous Baud, or Whore,

Should praise a Matron. What could hurt her more ?
But thou art proof e against them, and indeed

Aboue th' ill fortune of them, or the need.
I, therefore will begin. Soule of the Age !

The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage !
My Shakespeare, rise ; I will not lodge thee by

Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye
A little further, to make thee a roome :

Thou art a Moniment, without a tombe,
And art aliue still, while thy Booke doth Hue,

And we haue wits to read, and praise to giue.
That I not mixe thee so, my braine excuses ;

I meane with great, but disproportion^ Muses :
For, if I thought my iudgement were of yeeres,

I should commit thee surely with thy peeres,
And tell, how farre thou didstst our Lily out-shine,

Or sporting Kid, or Marlowes mighty line.
And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke,

From thence to honour thee, I would not seeke
For names ; but call forth thund'ring ^Eschilus,

Euripides, and Sophocles to vs,
Paccuuius, Accius, him of Cordoua dead,

To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread,

H5nt 3|on0on'0

And shake a Stage : Or, when thy Sockea were on,

Leaue thee alone, for the comparison
Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughtie Rome

Sent forth, or since 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 Muses still were in their prime,
When like Apollo he came forth to warme

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

And ioy'd to weare the dressing of his lines !
Which were so richly spun, and wouen so fit,

As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit.
The merry Greeke, tart Aristophanes,

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

As they were not of Natures family.
Yet must I not giue Nature all : Thy Art,

My gentle Shakespeare, must enioy a part.
For though the Poets matter, Nature be,

His Art doth giue the fashion. And, that he,
Who casts to write a liuing line, must sweat,

(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Vpon the Muses anuile : turne the same,

(And himselfje 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 such wert thou. Looke how the fathers face

Liues in his issue, euen so, the race
Of Shakespeares minde, and manners brightly shines

In his well torned, and true-filed lines :

222

In each of which, he seemes to shake a Lance,

As brandish't at the eyes of Ignorance.
Sweet Swan of Auon ! what a sight it were

To see thee in our waters yet appeare,
And make those flights vpon the bankes of Thames,

That so did take Eliza, and our lames !
But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere

Aduanc'd, and made a Constellation there !
Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage,

Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping Stage ;
Which, since thy flight fro hence, hath mourn'd like night,

And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light.

BEN: IONSON.

VPON THE LINES AND LIFE OF THE FAMOUS

Scenicke Poet, Master WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

THOSE hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring
You Britaines braue ; for done are Shakespeares dayes :
His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes,
Which made the Globe of heau'n and earth to ring.
Dry'de is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring,
Turn'd all to teares, and Phoebus clouds his rayes :
That corp's, that coffin now besticke those bayes,
Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King.
If Tragedies might any Prologue haue,
All those he made, would scarse make one to this :
Where Fame, now that he gone is to the graue
(Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is.

For though his line of life went soone about,

The life yet of his lines shall neuer out.

HVQH HOLLAND.

jFtrst jfolto 223

TO THE MEMORIE
of the deceased Authour Maister

W. SHAKESPEARE

Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes giue

The world thy Workes : thy Workes, by which, out-liue

Thy Tombe, thy name must : when that stone is rent,

And Time dissolues thy Stratford Moniment,

Here we aliue shall view thee still. This Booke,

When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke

Fresh to all Ages : when Posteritie

Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie

That is not Shake-speares eu'ry Line, each Verse

Here shall reuiue, redeeme thee from thy Herse.

Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said,

Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once inuade.

Nor shall I e're beleeue, or thinke thee dead

(Though mist) vntill our bankrout Stage be sped

(.Impossible) with some new straine t'out-do

Passions of luliet, and her Romeo;

Or till J heare a Scene more nobly take,

Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake.

Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest

Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest,

Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst neuer dye,

But crown'd with Lawrell, liue eternally.

L. DIGGES.

To the memorie of M. W. Shake-speare.
WEE wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went'st so soone
From the Worlds-Stage, to the Graues-Tyring-roome.
Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth,
Tels thy Spectators, that thou went'st but forth

324 SJppmDir &

To enter with applause. An Actors Art,

Can dye, and Hue, to acte a second part.

That's but an Exit of Mortalitie ;

This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite. I. M.

The Workes of William Shakespeare, containing aU his
Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies; truely set forth according
to their first OriginalL — The names of the Principall Actors in
all these playes. — William Shakespeare ; Richard Burbadge ;
John Hemmings ; Augustine Phillips ; William Kempt ;
Thomas Poope ; George Bryan ; Henry Condell ; William
Slye ; Richard Cowly ; John Lowine ; Samuell Crosse ; Alex-
ander Cooke ; Samuel Gilburne ; Robert Armin ; William
Ostler ; Nathan Field ; John Underwood ; Nicholas Tooley ;
William Ecclestone ; Joseph Taylor ; Robert Benfeld ; Robert
Goughe ; Richard Robinson ; John Shancke ; John Rice.

A Catalogue of the severall Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies
contained in this Volume. — COMEDIES. The Tempest,
folio 1 ; The Two Gentlemen of Verona, 20 ; The Merry Wives
of Windsor, 38 ; Measure for Measure, 61 ; The Comedy of
Errours, 85 ; Much adoo about Nothing, 101 ; Loves Labour
lost, 122 ; Midsommer Nights Dreame, 145 ; The Merchant
of Venice, 163; As You Like it, 185; The Taming of the
Shrew, 208 ; All is well that Ends well, 230 ; Twelfe-Night,
or what you will, 255 ; The Winters Tale, 304. — HISTORIES.
The Life and Death of King John, fol. 1 ; The Life and Death
of Richard the Second, 23 ; The First Part of King Henry the
Fourth, 46; The Second Part of K. Henry the fourth, 74;
The Life of King Henry the Fift, 69 ; The First part of King
Henry the Sixt, 96 ; The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt,
120 ; The Third part of King Henry the Sixt, 147 ; The Life
and Death of Richard the Third, 173; The Life of King

tEra&ittonal spatrjrial 225

Henry the Eight, 205. — TRAGEDIES. The Tragedy of
Coriolanus, fol. 1 ; Titus Andronicus, 31 ; Romeo and Juliet,
53; Timon of Athens, 80; The Life and death of Julius
Csesar, 109 ; The Tragedy of Macbeth, 131 ; The Tragedy of
Hamlet, 152 ; King Lear, 283 ; Othello, the Moore of Venice,
310; Anthony and Cleopater, 346; Cymbeline King of
Britaine, 369.

II. SOURCES OF TRADITIONAL MATERIAL

Fuller's Worthies of England. 1662.

Aubrey's Lives of Eminent Men, 2 vols. Ed. A. Clark.

Oxford, 1895.

Diary of Rev. John Ward (1661-1663). Ed. C. A. Severn, 1839.
Rev. William Fulman's and Rev. Richard Davies's Mss.

Corpus Christi College, Oxford.

John Dowdall's Travels in Warwickshire (1693) . London, 1838.
William Hall (1694), Letter in Bodleian Mss. London, 1884.
William Oldys, Ms. Adversaria in British Museum, printed hi

Appendix to Yeowell's Memoir of Oldys, 1862.
Archdeacon Plume's Ms. memoranda at Maldon, Essex. See

Lee, Nineteenth Century, May, 1906, and Preface to

New Edition (1909) of Life.

For the anecdote of the Bidford Drinkers, see H.-P. and
Greene's Legend of the Crab Tree, 1857.
Antony Wood. Athene Oxonienses, 1692.

INDEX TO THE CHARACTERS IN SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS

This Index records the act and scene in which each character first
speaks, not necessarily the same as that in which he first appears. Only
persons who speak are included, except a few marked with asterisk.

Aaron. TA. II. i.
Abbess, Lady. CofE. V. i.
Abergavenny, Lord. H8. I. i.
Abhorson. Meas. IV. ii.
Abraham. R&J. I. i.
Achilles. T&C. II. i.
Adam. AYLI. I. i.
Adrian. Trap. II. i.
Adriana. CofE. II. i.
.ZEdile, an. Cor. III. i.
^Egeon. CofE. I. i.
^Emilia. CofE. V. i.
^Emilius. TA. IV. iv.
^Eneas. T&C. I. i.
Agamemnon. T&C. I. iii.
Agrippa. A&C. II. ii.
Aguecheek, Sir Andrew. TwN.

I. iii.

Ajax. T&C. II. i.
Alarbus. TA.*
Albany, Duke of. Lear I. i.
Alcibiades. Tim. I. i.
Alencon, Duke of. 1H6. I. ii.
Alexander. T&C. I. ii.
Alexas. A&C. I. ii.
Alice. H5. III. iv.
Alonso. Tmp. I. i.
Ambassadors : Hml. V. ii ; H5.

I. ii ; 1H6. V. i..

Amiens. AYLI. II. i. v.

Andromache. T&C. V. iii.

Andronicus. See Titus, Mar-
cus.

Angelo. CofE. III. i.

Angelo. Meas. I. i.

Angus. Mcb. I. ii.

Anne Bullen, Queen. H8. I.
iv.

Anne, Lady. R3. I. ii.

Anne Page. MWW. I. i.

Antigonus. WT. II. i.

Antiochus, King of Antioch.
Per. I. i.

Antipholus of Ephesus. CofE.
III. i.

Antipholus of Syracuse. CofE.
I. ii.

Antonio. Merch. I. i.

Antonio. MAdo. I. ii.

Antonio. Tmp. I. i.

Antonio. TGV. I. iii.

Antonio. TwN. II. i.

Antony. JC. I. ii ; A&C. I. i.

Apemantus. Tim. I. i.

Apothecary. R&J. V. i.

Apparitions. Mcb. IV. i.

Archbishop. See York, Canter-
bury.

226

3finaeir to Character*

227

Archidamus. WT. I. i.
Ariel. Tmp. I. ii.
Armado, Don. LLL. I. ii.
Arragon, Prince of. Merch.

II. ix.

Artemidorus. JC. II. iii.
Arthur, Duke of Bretagne.

John II. i.

Arviragus. Cym. III. iii.
Astringer, Gentle. AWEW.

V. i.
Attendants. A&C. I. ii ; Hml.

IV. vi. See Servants.
Audrey. AYLI. III. iii.
Aufidius, Tullus. Cor. I. ii.
Aumerle, Duke of. R2. I. iii.
Austria, Archduke of. John

II. i. See Lymoges.
Autolycus. WT. IV. iii.
Auvergne, Countess of. 1H6.

II. iii.

Bagot. R2. II. ii.

Balthasar. MAdo. II. iii.

Balthazar. CofE. III. i.

Balthazar. Merch. III. iv.

Balthazar. R&J. I. i.

Banditti. Tim. IV. iii.

Banquo. Mcb. I. iii.

Baptista. TofS. I. i.

Bardolph. 1H4. II. ii ; 2H4.
II. i; H5. Il.i; MWW. I. i.

Bardolph, Lord. 2H4. I. i.

Barnardine. Meas. IV. iii.

Bassanio. Merch. I. i.

Bassanius. TA. I. i.

Basset. 1H6. III. iv.

Bastard of Orleans. 1H6. 1. ii.

Bastard. See Edmund, Faul-
conbridge, and Margarelon.

Bates. H5. IV. i.

Bawd. Per. IV. ii. See Over-
done.

Beadles. 2H4. V. iv ; 2H6.
ILL

Beatrice. MAdo. I. i.
Beaufort, Henry, Bishop of

Winchester, and Cardinal.

1H6. I. i; 2H6. I. i.
Beaufort, John, Duke of

Somerset. 1H6. II. iv ; 2H6.

Li.
Beaufort, Thomas, Duke of

Exeter. H5. 1. ii ; 1H6. 1. i.
Bedford, Duke of. H5. II. ii.
Bedford, Duke of. 1H6. I. i.
Belarius. Cym. III. iii.
Belch, Sir Toby. TwN. I. iii.
Benedick. MAdo. I. i.
Benvolio. R&J. Li.
Berkeley. R3. I. iii.*
Berkeley, Lord. R2. II. iii.
Bernardo. Hml. I i.
Bertram, Count of Rousillon.

AWEW. I. i.

Bevis, George. 2H6. IV. ii.
Bianca. Oth. III. iv.
Bianca. TofS. I. i.
Bigot, Lord. John IV. iii.
Biondello. TofS. I. i.
Biron. LLL. I. i.
Blanche of Spain. John II. i.
Blunt, Sir James. R3. V. ii.
Blunt, Sir Walter. 1H4. 1. iii.
Boatswain. Tmp. I. i.
Bolingbroke, Roger. 2H6. I.

iv.
Bolingbroke, afterwards King

Henry IV. R2. I. i.
Bona. 3H6. III. iii.
Borachio. MAdo. I. iii.
Bottom. MND. I. ii.
Boult. Per. IV. ii.
Bourbon, Duke of. H5. III.

v.
Bourchier, Cardinal. R3. III.

i.

Boyet. LLL. II. i.
Boys : H5. II. i ; 1H6. I. iv ;

HS.V.i; Mcb.IV.ii; Meas.

328

115

IV. i ; MAdo. II. iii ; R3.

II. ii ; T&C. I. ii. See Pages.
Brabantio. Oth. I. i.
Brakenbury, Sir Robert. R3.

I. i.

Brandon. H8. I. i.
Brothers, to Pqsthumus,

ghosts. Cym. V. iv.
Brutus, Decius. JC. II. i.
Brutus, Junius. Cor. I. i.
Brutus, Marcus. JC. I. ii.
Buckingham, Duke of. 2H6.

I. i ; R3. I. iii.
Buckingham, Duke of. H8.

Bullcalf. 2H4. III. ii.
Bullen, Anne. H8. I. iv.
Burgundy, Duke of. H5. V.

ii.
Burgundy, Duke of. 1H6. II.

Burgundy, Duke of. Lear

I. i.

Bushy. R2. I. iv.
Butts, Doctor. H8. V. ii.

Cade, John. 2H6. IV. ii.
Caesar. See Julius and Octa-

vius.

Caithness. Mcb. V. ii.
Caius. TA.*

Caius, Doctor. MWW. I. iv.
Caius Ligarius. JC. II. i.
Caius Lucius. Cym. III. i.
Caius Marcius (Coriolanus) .

Cor. I. i.

Calchas. T&C. III. iii.
Caliban. Tmp. I. ii.
Calpurnia. JC. I. ii.
Cambridge, Earl of. H5. II.

ii.

Camillo. WT. I. i.
Campeius, Cardinal. H8. II.

ii.
Canidius. A&C. III. r.

Canterbury, Archbishop of.

H5. I. i. See Bourchier,

Cranmer.

Caphis. Tim. II. i.
Captains : A&C. IV. iv ; Cym.

IV. ii, V. iii ; Hml. IV. iv ;

1H6. II. ii; Lear V. iii;

Mcb. I. ii ; R2. II. iv ; TA.

I. i. See Sea Captain.
Capucius. H8. IV. ii.
Capulet. R&J. I. i.
Capulet, Lady. R&J. I. i.
Capulet, second. R&J. I. v.
Cardinal. See Bourchier, Win-
chester.
Carlisle, Bishop of. R2. III.

ii.

Carpenter. JC. I. i.
Carriers. 1H4. II. i.
Casca. JC. I. ii.
Cassandra. T&C. II. ii.
Cassio. Oth. I. ii.
Cassius. JC. I. ii.
Catesby, Sir William. R3. I.

iii.

Cato, young. JC. V. iii.
Celia. AYLI. I. ii.
Ceres. Tmp. IV. i.
Cerimon. Per. III. ii.
Chamberlain. 1H4. II. i.
Chamberlain, Lord. H8. 1. iii.
Chancellor, Lord. H8. V. iii.
Charles, a wrestler. AYLI.

Charles, the dauphin, later

King of France. 1H6. I. ii.
Charles VI, King of France.

H5. II. iv.

Charmian. A&C. I. ii.
Chatillon, ambassador. John

I. i.

Chief Justice. 2H4. I. ii.
Chiron. TA. I. i.
Chorus. H5; Per; R&J;

WT.

to Character*

Cicero. JC. I. iii.

Cimber, Metellus. JC. II. i.

Cinna, a conspirator. JC. I.

iii.

Cinna, a poet. JC. III. iii.
Citizens. Cor. I. i ; 2H6. IV.

v; John II. i; R3. II. iii;

R&J. III. i.
Clarence, George, Duke of.

3H6. II. ii ; R3. I. i.
Clarence, Thomas, Duke of.

2H4. IV. iv.
Clarence, son and daughter of.

R3. II. ii.

Claudio. Meas. I. ii.
Claudio. MAdo. I. i.
Claudius, King of Denmark.

Hml. I. ii.

Claudius. JC. IV. iii.
Cleomenes. WT. III. i.
Cleon. Per. I. iv.
Cleopatra. A&C. I. i.
Clerk. 2H6. IV. ii.
Clifford, Lord. 2H6. IV. viii ;

3H6. I. i.

Clifford, young, son of pre-
ceding. 2H6. V. i.
Clitus. JC. V. v.
Cloten. Gym. I. ii.
Clowns: A&C. V. ii; AWEW.

I. iii ; Hml. V. ii ; LLL. I.

ii ; Oth. III. i ; TA. IV. iii ;

WT. IV. iii. See Feste,

Peter, Pompey, etc.
Cobbler. JC. I. i.
Cobweb. MND. III. i.
Colville, Sir John. 2H4. IV.

iii.

Cominius. Cor. I. i.
Commons. 2H6. III. ii.
Conrade. MAdo. I. iii.
Conspirators. Cor. V. vi.
Constable (Dull). LLL. I. i.
Constable of France. H5. II.

iv.

Constance. John II. i.

Cordelia. Lear I. i.

Corin. AYLI. II. iv.

Coriolanus. Cor. I. i.

Cornelius, a physician. Cym.
I. v.

Cornelius. Hml. I. ii.

Cornwall, Duke of. Lear I. i.

Costard. LLL. I. i.

Court. H5. IV. i.

Courtesan. CofE. IV. iii.

Cranmer, Archbishop of Can-
terbury. H8. V. i.

Cressida. T&C. I. ii.

Crier. H8. II. iv.

Cromwell. H8. III. ii.

Cupid. Tim. I. ii.

Curan. Lear II. i.

Curio. TwN. I. i.

Curtis. TofS. IV. i.

Cymbeline, King. Cym. I. i.

Dancer, A. 2H4. Epi.
Dardanius. JC. V. v.
Daughter of Antiochus. Per.

Dauphin. H5. II. iv.
Davy. 2H4. V. i.
Deiphobus. T&C. IV. i.
Demetrius. A&C. I. i.
Demetrius. MND. I. i.
Demetrius. TA. I. i.
Dennis. AYLI. I. i.
Denny, Sir Anthony. H8. V. i.
Derby, Earl of. R3. I. iii.
Dercetas. A&C. IV. xiv.
Desdemona. Oth. I. iii.
Diana. Per.*
Diana. AWEW. III. v.
Dick, butcher. 2H6. IV. ii.
Diomedes. T&C. II. iii. -
Diomedes. A&C. IV. xiv.
Dion. WT. III. i.
Dionyza. Per. I. iv.
Doctor. Lear IV. iv.

230

fr 115

Doctor, English. Mcb. IV. iii.
Doctor, Scotch. Mcb. V. i.
Dogberry. MAdo. III. iii.
Dolabella. A&C. III. xii.
Doll Tearsheet. 2H4. II. iv.
Don Adriano de Armado.

LLL. I. ii.

Donalbain. Mcb. II. iii.
Don John. MAdo. I. i.
Don Pedro. MAdo. I. i.
Dorcas. WT. IV. iv.
Dorset, Marquis of. R3. 1. iii.
Douglas, Archibald, Earl of.

1H4. IV. i.

Drawers. 2H4. II. iv.
Dromio of Ephesus. CofE.

I. ii.
Dromio of Syracuse. CofE.

I. ii.
Duke, in banishment. AYLI.

ILi.

Duke Frederick. AYLI. I. ii.
Duke of Milan. TGV. II. iv.
Dull. LLL. I. i.
Dumain. LLL. I. i.
Duncan, King. Mcb. I. ii.

Edgar. Lear I. ii.

Edmund. Lear I. i.

Edmund, Earl of Rutland.
3H6. I. iii.

Edward, Earl of March, later
Edward IV. 3H6. I. i;
R3. II. i.

Edward IV, King. 3H6. I. i ;
R3. II. i.

Edward V, King. R3. III. i.

Edward, Prince of Wales, after-
wards Edward V. R3. III. i.

Edward Plantagenet, Prince
of Wales. 3H6. I. i.

Egcus. MND. I. i.

Eglamour. TGV. IV. iii.

Egyptian. A&C. V. i.

Elbow. Meas. II. i.

Eleanor, Duchess of Glouces-
ter. 2H6. I. ii.

Eleanor, Queen. John I. i.

Elizabeth, Queen (as L. Grey).
3H6. III. ii ; R3. I. iii.

Ely, Bishop of. H5. I. i.

Ely, Bishop of. R3. III. iv.

Emilia. Oth. II. ii.

Emilia. WT. II. ii.

Enobarbus. A&C. I. ii.

Eros. A&C. III. v.

Erpingham, Sir Thomas. H5.

IV. i.

Escalus, Prince. R&J. I. i.
Escalus. Meas. I. i.
Escanes. Per. II. iv.
Essex, Earl of. John I. i.
Euphronius. A&C. III. xii.
Evans, Sir Hugh. MWW. I. i]
Executioners. John IV. i.
Exeter (Beaufort), Duke of.

H5. I. ii ; 1H6. I. i.
Exeter, Duke of. 3H6. I. i.
Exton, Sir Pierce of. R2. V.

iv.

Fabian. TwN. II. v.
Fairies. MND. II. i; MWW.

V. iv.

Falstaff , Sir John. 1H4. I. ii ;
2H4. I. ii ; MWW. I. i.

Fang. 2H4. II. i.

Fastolfe, Sir John. 1H6. III.
ii.

Father that hath killed his
son. 3H6. II. v.

Faulconbridge, Lady. John
I. i.

Faulconbridge, Philip the Bas-
tard. John I. i.

Faulconbridge, Robert. John
I. i.

Feeble. 2H4. III. ii.

Fenton. MWW. I. iv.

Ferdinand. Tmp. I. ii.

to

231

Ferdinand, King of Navarre.

LLL. I. i.

Feste. TwN. I. v.
Fisherman. Per. II. i.
Fitzwater, Lord. R2. IV. i.
Flaminius. Tim. III. i.
Flavius. JC. I. i.
Flavius. Tim. I. ii.
Fleance. Mob. II. i.
Florence, Duke of. AWEW.

III. i.

Florizel. WT. IV. iv.
Fluellen. H5. III. ii.
Flute. MND. I. ii.
Fool. Lear I. iv ; Tim. II. ii.
Ford. MWW. II. i.
Ford, Mistress. MWW. II. i.
Forester. AYLI. IV. ii;

LLL. IV. i.

Fortinbras. Hml. IV. iv.
France, King of. AWEW. I.

ii.

France, King of. Lear I. i.
France, Princess of. LLL. II.

i.

Francis. 1H4. II. iv.
Francisca. Meas. I. iv.
Francisco. Hml. I. i.
Francisco. Tmp. II. i.
Frederick, Duke. AYLI. I.

ii.

Frenchman, A. Gym. I. iv.
Friar Francis. MAdo. IV. i.
Friar John. R&J. V. 2.
Friar Lawrence. R&J. II. 3.
Friar Peter. Meas. IV. vi.
Friar Thomas. Meas. I. iii.
Froth. Meas. II. i.

Gadshill. 1H4. II. i.
Gaolers : CofE. I. i ; Gym. V.

iv; 1H6. II. v; Merch. III.

iii ; WT. II. ii.
Gallus. A&C. V. i.
Gardener. R2. III. iv.

Gardiner, Bishop of Win-
chester. H8. V. i.

Gargrave, Sir Thomas. 1H6.
I. iv.

Gaunt, John, Duke of Lan-
caster. R2. I. i.

Gentleman Usher. H8. II.
iv.

Gentlemen: AWEW. V. iii;
Gym. I. i; Hml. IV. v;
2H6. IV. i ; H8. II. i ; Lear
I. v ; Meas. I. ii ; Per. III.
ii ; Oth. II. i ; WT. V. ii.

Gentlewomen. Cor. I. iii ;
Mcb. V. i.

George, Duke of Clarence.
3H6. II. ii ; R3. I. i.

Gertrude, Queen of Denmark.
Hml. I. ii.

Ghosts of : Caesar, JC. IV. iii ;
of Hamlet's father, Hml. I.
v ; Sicilius Leonatus, wife,
two sons, Cym. V. iv ; Ban-
quo,* Mcb. III. iv; Prince
Edward, Henry VI, Clar-
ence, Rivers, Grey,
Vaughan, Hastings, two
young princes, Lady Anne,
and Buckingham, R3. V. iii.

Glansdale, Sir William. 1H6.
I. iv.

Glendower, Owen. 1H4. III.
i.

Gloucester, Humphrey, Duke
of. 2H4. IV. iv; H5. III.
vii ; 1H6. I. i ; 2H6. I. i.

Gloucester, Richard, Duke of.
3H6. I. i ; R3. I. i.

Gloucester, Duchess of. 2H6.
I. ii.

Gloucester, Duchess of. R2.
I. ii.

Gloucester, Earl of. Lear I. i.

Gobbo, Launcelot. Merch. II.
ii.

232

fr HB

Gobbo, Old, father of Launce-
lot. Merch. II. ii.

Goffe, Matthew. 2H6.*

Goneril. Lear I. i.

Gonzalo. Tmp. I. i.

Goths. TA. V. i.

Governor of Harfleur. H5.
III. iii.

Governor of Paris. 1H6. IV. i.

Gower. 2H4. II. i ; H5. III.
ii. .

Gower, chorus. Per.

Grandpre. H5. IV. ii.

Gratiano. Merch. I. i.

Gratiano. Oth. V. ii.

Gravediggers. Hml. V. i.

Green. R2. I. iv.

Gregory. R&J. I. i.

Gremio. TofS. I. i.

Grey, Lady, later Queen Eliza-
beth. 3H6. III. ii ; R3. I.
iii.

Grey, Lord. R3. I. iii.

Grey, Sir Thomas. H5. II. ii.

Griffith. H8. IV. ii.

Grooms. 2H4. V. v ; R2. V. v.

Grumio. TofS. I. i.

Guard. A&C. IV. xiv.

Guiderius. Cym. III. iii.

Guildenstern. Hml. II. ii.

Guildford, Sir Henry. H8. I.
iv.

Gurney, James. John I. i.

Haberdasher. TofS. IV. iii.
Hamlet. Hml. I. ii.
Ha*rcourt. 2H4. IV. iv.
Hastings, Lord. 2H4. I. iii.
Hastings, Lord. 3H6. IV. i;

R3. I. i.

Hecate. Mob. III. v.
Hector. T&C. II. ii.
Helen, an attendant. Cym.

II. ii.
Helen. T&C. III. i.

Helena. AWEW. I. i.
Helena. MND. I. i.
Helenus. T&C. II. ii.
Helicanus. Per. I. ii.
Henry IV, King (Bolingbroke).

1H4. Li; 2H4. III. i; R2.

I. i.
Henry V, King (first, Henry,

Prince of Wales). 1H4. 1. ii ;

2H4. II. ii ; H5. I. ii.
Henry, Prince. 1H4. I. ii;

2H4. II. ii.
Henry, Prince, son of King

John. John V. vii.
Henry VI, King. IHG.III.i;

2H6. I. i ; 3H6. I. i.
Henry VII, King, first Earl of

Richmond. 3H6.* R3. V.

iii.

Henry VIII, King. H8. I. ii.
Heralds. Cor. II. i ; H5. III.

vi, IV. viii; 2H6. II. iv;

John II. i; Lear V. iii;

Oth. II. ii ; R2. I. iii.
Herbert, Sir Walter. R3. V. ii.
Hereford, Duke of. See Henry

IV. R2. I. i.
Hermia. MND. I. i.
Hermione. WT. I. ii.
Hero. MAdo. I. i.
Hippolyta. MND. I. i.
Holland, John. 2H6. IV. ii.
Holof ernes. LLL. IV. ii.
Horatio. Hml. I. i.
Homer, Roger. 2H6. I. iii.
Hortensio. TofS. I. i.
Hortensius. Tim. III. iv.
Host. TGV. IV. ii.
Host of the Gartei Inn.

MWW. I. iii.
Hostess. H5. II. i. See

Quickly.

Hostess. TofS. Ind.
Hotspur. 1H4. I. iii. See

Percy.

3f!nDej; to Characters

233

Hubert de Burgh. John III.

iii.

Hume, John. 2H6. I. ii.
Humphrey of Gloucester.

2H4. IV. iv ; H5. III. vii ;

1H6. Li; 2H6. I. i.
Huntsmen. 3H6. IV. v ; TofS.

Ind.
Hymen. AYLI. V. iv.

lachimo. Gym. I. iv.

lago. Oth. I. i.

Iden, Alexander. 2H6. IV. x.

Imogen. Gym. I. i.

Interpreter. AWEW. IV. iii.

Iras. A&C. I. ii.

Iris. Tmp. IV. i.

Isabel, Queen of France. H5.

V. ii.

Isabella. Meas. I. iv.
Isadore, servant. Tim. II. ii.

Jamy. H5. III. ii.
Jaquenetta. LLL. I. ii.
Jaques. AYLI. II. v.
Jaques, son of Sir Roland de

Boys. AYLI.*
Jessica. Merch. II. iii.
Jeweller. Tim. I. i.
Joan la Pucelle (Joan of Arc).

1H6. I. ii.

John, King. John I. i.
John of Lancaster. 1H4. V.

iv ; 2H4. IV. ii.
Jordan, Margery. 2H6. I.

Julia. TGV. I. ii.
Juliet. Meas. I. ii.
Juliet. R&J. I. iii.
Julius Caesar. JC. I. ii.
Juno. Tmp. IV. i.
Jupiter. Cym. V. iv.

Katherina.
Katheriue.

TofS. I. i.
LLL. II. i.

Katherine, Princess of France.

H5. III. iv.

Katherine, Queen. H8. I. ii.
Keepers: 3H6. III. i; H8.

V. ii ; R2. V. v ; R3. I. iv.

See Gaolers.

Kent, Earl of. Lear I. i.
Knights : Lear I. iv ; Per. II.

Ladies : Cor. II. i ; Cym. I. v ;

R2. III. iv; Tim. I. ii ;

WT. II. i.

Laertes. Hml. I. ii.
Lafeu, Lord. AWEW. I. i.
Lamprius. A&C. I. ii.
Launce. TGV. II. iii.
Launcelot Gobbo. Merch. II.

ii.
Lavache, a clown. AWEW.

I. iii.

Lavinia. TA. I. i.
Lawyer, a. 1H6. II. iv.
Lear, King. Lear I. i.
Le Beau. AYLI. I. ii.
Legate. 1H6. V. i.
Lennox. Mcb. I. ii.
Leonardo. Merch. II. ii.
Leonato. MAdo. I. i.
Leonatus, Posthumus. Cym.

Leonine. Per. IV. i.
Leontes. WT. I. ii.
Lepidus. JC. IV. i ; A&C. I.

iv.
Lewis, the Dauphin. H5. II.

iv.
Lewis, the Dauphin. John

II. i.

Lewis XI, King of France.

3H6. III. iii.
Lieutenant : Cor. IV. vii ;

2H6. IV. i ; 3H6. IV. vi.
Ligarius. JC. II. i.
Lincoln, Bishop of. H8. II. iv.

234

115

Lion. MND. V. i.

Longaville. LLL. I. i.

Lords : AWEW. I. ii, III. i
AYLI. II. i; Cor. V. vi
Gym. I. ii; Hml. V. ii
LLL. II. i; Mcb. III. iv
Per. I. ii ; R3. V. iii ; TofSi
Ind. ; Tim. I. i ; WT. II. ii.

Lorenzo. Merch. I. i.

Lovel, Lord. R3. III. iv.

Lovell, Sir Thomas. H8. 1. iii.

Luce. CofE. III. i.

Lucentio. TofS. I. i.

Lucetta. TGV. I. ii.

Luciajna. CofE. II. i.

Lucianus. Hml. III. ii.

Lucilius. JC. IV. ii.

Lucilius. Tim. I. i.

Lucio. Meas. I. ii.

Lucius, Caius. Cym. III. i.

Lucius. JC. II. i.

Lucius. TA. I. i.

Lucius, young. TA. III. ii.

Lucius. Tim. III. ii ; ser-
vant. Tim. III. iv.

Lucullus. Tim. III. i.

Lucy, Sir William. 1H6. IV.
iii.

Ludovico. Oth. IV. i.

Lychorida. Per. III. i.

Lymoges, Duke of Austria.
John II. i.

Lysander. MND. I. i.

Lysimachus. Per. IV. vi.

Macbeth. Mcb. I. iii.
Macbeth, Lady. Mcb. I. v.
Macduff. Mcb. II. iii.
Macduff, Lady. Mcb. IV. ii.
Macduff' s son. Mcb. IV. ii.
Macmorris. H5. III. ii.
Maecenas. A&C. II. ii.
Malcolm. Mcb. I. ii.
Malvolio. TwN. I. v.
Mamillius. WT. I. ii.

Marcellus. Hml. I. i.

Marcus Andronicus. TA. I. i.

Marcus Antonius (Antony).
JC. I. ii ; A&C. I. i.

Mardian. A&C. I. v.

Margarelon. T&C. V. vi.

Margaret. MAdo. II. i.

Margaret, Queen. 1H6. V.
iii; 2H6. I. i; 3H6. I. i;
R3. I. iii.

Margaret Plantagenet, daugh-
ter of Clarence. R3. II. ii.

Maria. LLL. II. i.

Maria. TwN. I. iii.

Mariana. AWEW. III. v.

Mariana. Meas. IV. i.

Marina. Per. IV. i.

Mariner. WT. III. iii ; Tmp.

Marshal. Per. II. iii.
Marshal, Lord. R2. I. iii.
Martext, Sir Oliver. AYLI.

III. iii.

Martius. TA. I. i.
Marullus. JC. I. i.
Master. 2H6. IV. i.
Master gunner. 1H6. I. iv.
Master, of a ship. Tmp. I. i ;

2H6. IV. i.

Master's Mate. 2H6. IV. i.
Mayor of London. 1H6. III.

i ; R3. III. i.
Mayor of St. Alban's. 2H6.

II. i.

Mayor of York. 3H6. IV. vii.
Melun. John V. iv.
Menas. A&C. II. i.
Menecrates. A&C. II. i.
Menelaus. T&C. I. iii.
Menenius Agrippa. Cor. I. i.
Menteith. Mcb. V. ii.
Mercade. LLL. V. ii.
Merchants : CofE. I. ii ; Tim.

I. i.
Mercutio. R&J. I. iv.

to Character*

235

Messala. JC. IV. iii.
Messengers : A&C. I. i ;

AWEW.IV.iii; CofE. V. i ;

Cor. Li; Cym. V. iv; Hml.

IV. v; 1H4. IV. i; 2H4.

IV. i ; H5. II. v ; 1H6. I. i ;

2H6. I. ii ; 3H6. I. ii ; H8.

IV. ii ; John IV. ii ; JC. IV.

iii ; Lear IV. ii ; LLL. V. ii ;

Mcb. I. v; Meas. IV. ii ;

Merch. II. ix ; MAdo. I. i ;

Oth. I. iii; Per. I. i; R3.

III. ii ; TofS. III. i ; Tim.

I. i ; TA. III. i.
Metellus Cimber. JC. II. i.
Michael. 2H6. IV. ii.
Michael, Sir. 1H4. IV. iv.
Milan, Duke of. TGV. II. iv.
Miranda. Tmp. I. ii.
Montague. R&J. I. i.
Montague, Lady. R&J. I. i.
Montague, Marquess of.

3H6. I. i.

Montano. Oth. II. i.
Montgomery, Sir John. 3H6.

IV. vii. '

Montjoy. H5. III. vi.
Moonshine. MND. V. i.
Mopsa. WT. IV. iv.
Morocco, Prince of. Merch.

II. i.

Mortimer, Edmund, Earl of

March. 1H4. III. i.
Mortimer, Edmund, Earl of

March. 1H6. II. v.
Mortimer, Lady. 1H4. III. i.
Mortimer, Sir Hugh.* 3H6.

I. ii.
Mortimer, Sir John. 3H6. I.

ii.

Morton. 2H4. I. i.
Morton, John, Bishop of Ely.

R3. III. iv.
Moth. LLL. I. ii.
Moth. MND. III. i.

Mother to Posthumus, a

ghost. Cym. V. iv.
Mouldy. 2H4. III. ii.
Mowbray, Lord. 2H4. I. iii.
Mowbray, Thomas, Duke of

Norfolk. R2. I. i.
Murderers: 2H6. III. ii ;

Mcb. III. i ; R3. I. iii.
Musicians : Merch. V. i ; Oth.

III. i ; R&J. IV. v ; TGV.

IV. ii.

Mustardseed. MND. III. i.
Mutius. TA. I. i.

Nathaniel, Sir. LLL. IV. ii.
Neighbors. 2H6. II. iii.
Nerissa. Merch. I. ii.
Nestor. T&C. I. iii.
Noble, a. Cor. III. ii.
Nobleman, a. 3H6. III. ii.
Norfolk, Duke of. 3H6. I. i ;

R3. V. iii.
Norfolk, Duke of, Thomas

Mowbray. R2. I. i.
Norfolk, Duke of. H8. I. i.
Northumberland. See Percy.
Northumberland, Earl of.

3H6. I. i.
Northumberland, Lady. 2H4.

II. iii.

Nurse. R&J. I. 3.
Nurse. TA. IV. ii.
Nym. H5. II. i ; MWW. I. i.

Oberon. MND. II. i.
Octavia. A&C. III. ii.
Octavius Caesar (Augustus).

JC. IV. i ; A&C. I. iv.
Officers: CofE. IV. i; Cor.

II. ii; Oth. I. iii; R&J. I. i ;

TwN. III. iv ; WT. III. ii.
Old Athenian. Tim. I. i.
Old Lady. H8. II. iii.
Old Man. Lear IV. i ; Mcb.

II. iv.

236

i]t: 115

Oliver. AYLI. I. i.

Oliver Martext, Sir. AYLI.

III. iii.

Olivia. TwN. I. v.
Ophelia. Hml. I. iii.
Orlando. AYLI. I. i.
Orleans, bastard of. 1H6. I.

ii.
Orleans, Duke of. H5. III.

vii.
Orsino, Duke of Illyria. TwN.

I. i.

Osric. Hml. V. ii.
Ostler. 1H4. II. i.
Oswald. Lear I. iii.
Othello. Oth. I. ii.
Outlaws. TGV. IV. i.
Overdone, Mrs. Meas. I. ii.
Oxford, Earl of. 3H6. III. iii.
Oxford, Earl of. R3. V. ii.

Page. MWW. I. i.
Page, Mistress. MWW. II. i.
Page, Mistress Anne, a daugh-
ter. MWW. I. i.
Page, William, a son. MWW.

IV. i.

Pages: AWEW. I. i; AYLI.

V. iii ; 2H4. I. ii ; H8. V. i ;
R3. IV. ii; R&J. V. ii;
Tim, II. ii. See Boys.

Painter. Tim. I. i.
Pandar. Per. IV. ii.
Pandarus. T&C. I. i.
Pandulph, Cardinal. John

III. i.

Panthino. TGV. I. iii.
Paris. R&J. I. ii.
Paris. T&C. II. ii.
Parolles. AWEW. I. i.
Patience. H8. IV. ii.
Patrician. Cor. III. i.
Patroclus. T&C. II. i.
Paulina. WT. II. ii.
Peaseblossom. MND. III. i.

Pedant. TofS. IV. ii.

Pedro, Don. MAdo. I. i.

Pembroke, Earl of. 3H6. IV.
i.

Pembroke, Earl of. John IV.
ii.

Percy, Henry, Earl of North-
umberland. 1H4. I. iii ;
2H4. I. i ; R2. III. i.

Percy, Henry (Hotspur) .
1H4. I. iii ; R2. II. iii.

Percy, Lady (wife of Hotspur) .
1H4. II. iii ; 2H4. II. iii.

Percy, Thomas, Earl of Worces-
ter. 1H4. I. iii.

Perdita. WT. IV. iv.

Pericles. Per. I. i.

Peter. 2H6. I. iii.

Peter. R&J. II. iv.

Peter of Pomf ret. John IV. ii.

Petitioners. 2H6. I. iii.

Peto. 1H4. II. ii; 2H4. II.
iv.

Petruchio. TofS. I. i.

Phebe. AYLI. III. v.

Philario. Cym. I. iv.

Philemon. Per. III. ii.

Philip, King of France. John
II. i.

Philo. A&C. I. i.

Philostrate. MND. V. i.

Philotus. Tim. III. iv.

Phrynia. Tim. IV. iii.

Physicians : Cym. I. v ; Lear
IV. iv; Mcb. IV. iii.

Pierce, Sir, of Exton. R2. V.

Pinch. CofE. IV. iv.
Pindarus. JC. IV. ii.
Pirates. Per. IV. i.
Pisanio. Cym. I. i.
Pistol. 2H4. II. iv; H5. II.

i; MWW. I. i.
Plantagenet. See Richard.
Player King. Hml. III. ii.

to Characters?

237

Player Queen. Hml. III. ii.
Players. Hml. II. ii; TofS.

Ind.
Plebeians. JC. III. ii. See

Citizens.
Poet. Tim. I. i.
Poet. JC. IV. iii.
Poins. 1H4. I. ii ; 2H4. II.

ii.

Polixenes. WT. I. ii.
Polonius. Hml. I. ii.
Pompeius, Sextus. A&C. II. i.
Pompey. Meas. I. ii.
Popilius. JC. III. i.
Porters : 2H4. I. i ; 1H6. II.

iii ; H8. V. iv ; Mcb. II. iii.
Porter's Man. H8. V. iv.
Portia. JC. II. i.
Portia. Merch. I. ii.
Post. 2H6. III. i ; 3H6. III.

iii.
Posthumus Leonatus. Cym.

I. i.

Prentices. 2H6. II. iii.
Priam, King of Troy. T&C.

II. ii.

Priests : Hml. V. i ; R3. III.

ii ; TwN. V. i.
Princess of France. LLL.

II. i.

Proculeius. A&C. V. i.
Prologue. R&J; H5; MND ;

Hml. III. ii ; H8 ; T&C.
Prospero. Tmp. I. ii.
Proteus. TGV. I. i.
Provost. Meas. I. ii.
Publius. JC. II. ii.
Publius. TA. IV. iii.
Puck, Robin Goodfellow.

MND. II. i.

Pursuivant. R3. III. ii.
Pyramus. MND. V. i.

Queen, wife of Cymbeline.
Cym. I. i.

Queen, wife of Richard II.

R2. II. i.
Quickly, Mrs. 1H4. II. iv;

2H4. II. i; H5. II. i;

MWW. I. iv.
Quince. MND. I. ii.
Quintus. TA. I. i.

Rambures. H5. III. vii.
Ratcliff, Sir Richard. R3.

III. iii.

Regan. Lear I. i.
Reignier, Duke of Anjou.

1H6. I. ii.

Reynaldo. Hml. II. i.
Richard II, King. R2. I. i.
Richard II, Queen to. R2. II. i.
Richard III, King (at first

Gloucester). 3H6.I.i; R3.

I. i.
Richard, Duke of York, son

of Edward IV. R3. II. iv.
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of

York. 1H6. II. iv; 2H6.

I. i; 3H6. I. i.
Richard Plantagenet, son of

preceding. 2H6* ; 3H6. 1. i.
Richmond, Earl of, later Henry

VII. 3H6* ; R3. V. iii.
Rivers, Lord. 3H6. IV. iv ;

R3. I. iii.

Robin. MWW. I. iii.
Robin Goodfellow. MND. II.

i.

Roderigo. Oth. I. i.
Roman, a. Cor. IV. iii. See

Citizens.

Romeo. R&J. I. i.
Rosalind. AYLI. I. ii.
Rosaline. LLL. II. i.
Rosencrantz. Hml. II. ii.
Ross. Mcb. I. ii.
Ross, Lord. R2. II. i.
Rotherham, Thomas. Arch-
bishop of York. R3. II. iv.

Rousillon, Count. See Ber-
tram.

Rousillon, Countess. AWEW.
I. i.

Rugby, John. MWW. I. iv.

Rumour. 2H4. Ind.

Rutland, Edmund, Earl of.
3H6. I. iii.

Sailors : Hml. IV. vi ; Oth. I.

iii ; Per. III. i.
Salanio. Merch. I. i.
Salarino. Merch. I. i.
Salerio. Merch. III. ii.
Salisbury, Earl of. H5. IV.

iii ; 1H6. I. iv.
Salisbury, Earl of. 2H6. I. i.
Salisbury, Earl of. John III. i.
Salisbury, Earl of. R2. II. iv.
Sampson. R&J. I. i.
Sandys, William (Lord). H8.

I. iii.

Saturninus. TA. I. i.
Say, Lord. 2H6. IV. iv.
Scales, Lord. 2H6. IV. v.
Scarus. A&C. III. x.
Scout. 1H6. V. ii.
Scribe. H8. II. iv.
Scrivener. R3. III. vi.
Scroop, Lord. H5. II. ii.
Scroop, Richard, Archbishop

of York. 1H4. IV. iv;

2H4. I. iii.
Scroop, Sir Stephen. R2. III.

Sea-Captain (Lieut.). 2H6.

IV. i ; TwN. I. ii.
Sebastian. Tmp. I. i.
Sebastian. TwN. II. i.
Secretary. H8. I i.
Seleucus. A&C. V. ii.
Sempronius. TA.*
Sempronius. Tim. III. iii.
Senators, Roman. Cor. I. i;

Cym. III. vii ; Venetian.

Oth. I. iii ; Athenian. Tim.

II. i ; Coriolanian. Cor. I.

ii.

Sentinels. 1H6. II. i.
Sentry. A&C. IV. ix.
Sergeant. 1H6. II. i; (at

arms) H8. I. i.
Servants: A&C. II. vii ; Hml.

IV. vi ; 1H4. II. iii ; 2H4.

I. ii; H8. I. iv; JC. II. ii

Lear III. vii ; Mcb. III. i

Meas. II. ii ; Merch. III. i

Per. III. ii; R2. II. ii

TofS. IV. i; Tim. I. ii

T&C. III. i ; TwN. III. iv

WT. II. iii.

Servilius. Tim. III. ii.
Servingmen : Cor. IV. v

1H6. I. iii; 2H6. II. iv

Merch. I. ii ; TofS. Ind.
Seyton. Mcb. V. iii.
Sexton. MAdo. I. i.
Sextus Pompeius. A&C. II. i.
Shadow. 2H4. III. ii.
Shallow, Justice. 2H4. III.

ii ; MWW. I. i.
Shepherd. 1H6. V. iv.
Shepherd, Old. WT. III. iii.
Sheriff. 1H4. II. iv; 2H6. II.

iv ; R3. V. i.
Shrewsbury, Talbot, Earl of.

1H6. I. iv.

Shylock. Merch. I. iii.
Sicilius Lepnatus, a ghost.

Cym. V. iv.

Sicinius Velutus. Cor. I. i.
Silence. 2H4. III. ii.
Silius. A&C. III. i.
Silvia. TGV. II. i.
Silvius. AYLI. II. iv.
Simonides, King of Pentapolis.

Per. II. ii.

Simpcox. 2H6. II. i.
Simpcox's wife. 2H6. II. i.
Simple, Peter. MWW. I. i.

to Character*

239

Siward. Mcb. V. iv.
Siward, young. Mcb. V. vii.
Slender, Abraham. MWW.

I.i.

Sly, Christopher. TofS. Ind.
Smith. 2H6. IV. ii.
Snare. 2H4. II. i.
Snout. MND. I. ii.
Snug. MND. I. ii.
Soldiers: A&C. III. vii;

AWEW. IV. i ; Cor. I. iv ;

H5. IV. iv; 1H6. II. i;

2H6. IV. vi ; 3H6. IV. viii ;

JC. IV. ii; Mcb. V. iv;

Tim. V. iv ; T&C. V. ix.
Solinus, Duke of Ephesus.

CofE. I. i.
Somerset, Duke of. 1H6. II.

iv ; 2H6. I. i.

Somerset, Duke of. 3H6. IV. i.
Somerville, Sir John. 3H6.

V. i.
Son that hath killed his father.

3H6. II. v.
Soothsayers. A&C. I. ii ;

Gym. IV. ii ; JC. I. ii.
Southwell, John. 2H6. I. iv.
Speed. TGV. I. i.
Spirits. 2H6. I. iv.
Spring (Ver). LLL. V. ii.
Stafford, Lord. 3H6.*
Stafford, Sir Humphrey. 2H6.

IV. ii.
Stafford, William. 2H6. IV.

ii.
Stanley, Lord, Earl of Derby.

R3. I. iii.

Stanley, Sir John. 2H6. II. iv.
Stanley, Sir William. 3H6.

IV. v.*

Starveling. MND. I. ii.
Stephano. Merch.*
Stephano. Tmp. II. ii.
Steward. AWEW. I. iii.
Strangers. Tim. III. ii.

Strato. JC. V. v.

Suffolk, Earl and Duke of.

1H6. II. iv ; 2H6. I. i.
Suffolk, Duke of. H8. II. ii.
Surrey, Earl of. 2H4.*
Surrey, Earl of. R2. IV. i.
Surrey, Earl of. R3. V. iii.
Surrey, Lord. H8. III. ii.
Surveyor. H8. I. ii.

Tailor. TofS. IV. ii.
Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury.

1H6. I. iv.

Talbot, John. 1H6. I. iv.
Tamora, Queen of Goths.

TA. I. i.

Taurus. A&C. III. viii.
Thaisa. Per. II. ii.
Thaliard. Per. I. i.
Thersites. T&C. II. i.
Theseus. MND. I. i.
Thieves. 1H4. II. ii.
Thisbe. MND. V. i.
Thomas, Friar. Meas. I. iii.
Thurio. TGV. II. iv.
Thyreus (Thidias). A&C. III.

xii.

Timandra. Tim. IV. iii.
Time (chorus). WT. IV. i.
Timon. Tim. I. i.
Titania. MND. II. i.
Titinius. JC. IV. iii.
Titus. Tim. III. iv.
Titus Andronicus. TA. I. i.
Titus Lartius. Cor. I. i.
Touchstone. AYLI. I. ii.
Townsmen of St. Albans.

2H6. II. i.
Tranio. TofS. I. i.
Travellers. 1H4. II. ii.
Travers. 2H4. I. i.
Trebonius. JC. II. i.
Tressel. R3. I. iii.*
Tribunes, Roman : Cym. III.

vii ; TA. I, i,

240

JB

Trinculo. Tmp. II. ii.
Troilus. T&C. I. i.
Tubal. Merch. III. i.
Tullus Aufidius. Cor. I. ii.
Tutor. 3H6. I. iii.
Tybalt. R&J. I. i.
Tyrrel, Sir James. R3. IV.

Ulysses. T&C. I. iii.
Ursula. MAdo. II. i.
Urswick, Christopher. R3.
IV. v.

Valentine. TwN. I. iv.
Valentine. TGV. I. i.
Valentine. TA.*
Valeria. Cor. I. iii.
Varrius. A&C. II. i.
Varro, servant. Tim. II. ii.
Varro. JC. IV. iii.
Vaughan, Sir Thomas. R3.

III. iii.

Vaux. 2H6. III. ii.
Vaux, Sir Nicholas. H8. II. i.
Venice, Duke of. Merch. IV. i.
Venice, Duke of. Oth. I. iii.
Ventidius. A&C. III. i.
Ventidius. Tim. I. ii.
Verges. MAdo. III. iii.
Vernon. 1H6. II. iv.
Vernon, Sir Richard. 1H4.

IV. i.

Vincentio. TofS. IV. v.
Vincentio, Duke. Meas. I. i.
Vintner. 1H4. II. iv.
Viola. TwN. I. ii.
Violenta. AWEW. III. v.
Virgilia. Cor. I. iii.
Volsce, a. Cor. IV. iii.
Voltimand. Hml. I. ii.
Volumnia. Cor. I. iii.
Volumnius. JC. V. v.

Wall, MND. V. i.

Warders. 1H6. I. iii.
Wart. 2H4. III. ii.
Warwick (Beau champ), Ear]

of. 2H4. III. i; H5. IV.

viii ; 1H6. II. iv.
Warwick (Nevil), Earl of.

2H6. I. i; 3H6. I. i.
Watchmen : Cor. V. ii ; 3H6.

IV. iii; MAdo. III. iii ;R<feJ.

V. iii.
Westminster, Abbot of. R2.

IV. i.
Westmoreland, Earl of. 1H4.

I. i ; 2114. IV. i ; H5. I. ii.
Westmoreland, Earl of. 3H6.

I. i.
Whitmore, Walter. 2H6. IV.

i.

Widow. TofS. V. ii.
Widow, of Florence. AWEW.

III. v.

William. AYLI. V. i.
Williams. H5. IV. i.
Willoughby, Lord. R2. II. i.
Winchester, Bishop of. 1H6.

I. i ; 2H6. I. i.
Winchester (Gardiner), Bishop

of. H8. V. i.
Witches. Mcb. I. i.
Wolsey, Cardinal. H8. I. i.
Woodville. 1H6. I. iii.
Worcester, Earl of. 1H4. 1. iii.

York, Archbishop of. See
Rotherham and Scroop.

York, Duchess of. R2. V. ii.

York, Duchess of. R3. II. ii.

York, Duke of. H5. IV. iii.

York, Duke of. See Richard.

York, Duke of. See Richard,
son of Edward IV.

York, Edmund Langley, Duke
of. R2. II. i.

Young Marcius. Cor. V. iii.

c

INDEX OF THE SONGS IN SHAKESPEARE'S PLATS

The first lines are given. In a few cases it is doubtful whether the
verses were sung or spoken.

A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, 2H4. V. iii.
And let me the canakin clink, clink ; Oth. II. iii.
And will he not come again ? Hml. IV. v.
An old hare hoar, R&J. II. iv.

Be merry, be merry, my wife has all ; 2H4. V. iii.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind. AYLI. II. vii.
By gis, and by Saint Charity, Hml. IV. v.

Come away, come away, Mcb. III. v.
Come away, come away, death, TN. II. iv.
Come, thou monarch of the vine, A&C. II. vii.
Come unto these yellow sands, Tmp. I. ii.

Do me right, 2H4. V. iii.

Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, 2H4. V. iii.

Farewell, master ; farewell, farewell ! Tmp. II. ii.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Cym. IV. ii.
Fie on sinful fantasy ! MWW. V. v.
Fill the cup, and let it come ; 2H4. V. iii.
Flout 'em and scout 'em. Tmp. III. ii.
Fools had ne'er less grace in a year ; Lear I. iv.
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. Hml. IV. v.
Full fathom five thy father lies ; Tmp. I. ii.

Get you hence, for I must go. WT. IV. iv.

Hark, hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, Cym. II. iii.
He that has and a little tiny wit, — Lear. III. ii.
Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, Tmp. IV. i.
How should I your true love know. Hml. IV. v.

I am gone, sir, TN. IV. ii.
If it do come to pass, AYLI. II. vi.
In youth, when I did love, did love, Hml. V. i.
I shall no more to sea, to sea, Tmp. II. ii.
It was a lover and his lass, AYLI. V. iii.
R

242 3|naej: of

Jog, jog on, the foot-path way, WT. IV. iii.
King Stephen was and a worthy peer, Oth. II. iii.

Lawn as white as driveto snow ; WT. IV. iv.

Love, love, nothing but love, still more ! T&C. III. i.

No more dams I'll make for fish ; Tmp, II. ii.

No more, thou thunder-master, show. Gym. V. iv.

Oh mistress mine, where are you roaming ? TN. II. iii.
On the ground, MND. IV. i.

Orpheus with his lute made trees. (Fletcher ?) H8. III. i.
Over hill, over dale, MND. II. i.

Pardon, goddess of the night, MAdo. V. iv.
Round about the cauldron go ; Mcb. IV. i.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, MAdo. II. iii.

Take, O, take those lips away, Meas. IV. i.

Tell me where is fancy bred, Merch. III. ii.

The god of love, MAdo. V. ii.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, Tmp. II. ii.

The ousel cock so black of hue, MND. III. ii.

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Oth. IV. iii.

They bore him barefac'd on the bier ; Hml. IV. v.

To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, Hml. IV. v.

To shallow rivers, to whose falls. MWW. III. i.

Under the greenwood tree, AYLI. II. vi.

Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, AWEW. I. iii.

Wedding is great Juno's crown. AYLI. V. iv.

What shall he have that killed the deer ? AYLI. IV. ii.

When daffodils begin to peer, WT. IV. i.

When daisies pied and violets blue. LLL. V. ii.

When that I was and a little tiny boy, TN. V. i.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I. Tmp. V. i.

While you here do snoring lie, Tmp. II. i.

Who doth ambition shun, AYLI. II. vi.

Who is Silvia ? What is she, TGV. IV. iii.

Will you buy any tape, WT. IV. iv.

You spotted snakes with double tongue, MND. II. ii,

BIBLIOGRAPHY

THIS Bibliography is arranged in divisions corresponding
to the chapters of this volume. It aims to include those books
most important for the student, and to furnish guidance for
those interested in more specialized fields of study.

The following are the chief general bibliographies :

Shakespeare Bibliography, by William Jaggard, Stratford-
on- Avon, 1911. This is the most important and useful attempt
that has yet been made toward a complete bibliography of
works in the English language ; but it is far from being ex-
haustive or accurate.

Catalogue of the Barton Collection of the Boston Public
Library, part i, Shakespeare's Works and Shakesperiana,
1878-1888. Probably the best bibliography up to the date
of its publication.

Jahrbuch der deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft. Weimar,
1865-. The bibliographies, with indexes, issued in this annual
provide the best bibliography of all recent Shakespearean
literature in all languages. They include references to
periodicals and to book reviews.

The Cambridge History of English Literature, vol. v, chaps,
viii-xii. Cambridge, 1910. The best recent short selected
bibliography.

Other useful bibliographical aids are : the article on Shake-
speare Encycl. Brit., Eleventh ed., 1911 ; the British Museum
Catalogue of Printed Books, 1897; the Catalogue of the
Lenox Library, New York, 1880; and the Index to the
Shakespeare Memorial Library, Birmingham, 1900.
343

244 appmtUF 2E>

CHAPTER I

SHAKESPEARE'S ENGLAND AND LONDON

See bibliographies in the Cambridge Modern History,
vol. iii, chap, x, and the Cambridge History of English Litera-
ture, vol. v, chap. xiv. The two most accessible and impor-
tant works on the subject are : William Harrison's Descrip-
tion of Britaine and England, in Holinshed's Chronicle, 1577,
reprinted in the Shaks. Soc. Publ. 1877-1888, in the Scott
Library, 1899, and in Everyman's Library ; and John Stow's
Survey of London, 1st ed., 1598, reprinted in Everyman's
Library. J. D. Wilson's Life in Shakespeare's England
(Cambridge, 1911) is an excellent anthology drawn from
Elizabethan publications.

The following list includes only more important and more
recent books.

Aiken, L. Memoirs of the Court of James I. 2d ed.,
1822.

Ashton, J. Humour, Wit, and Society in the Seventeenth
Century. 1883.

Besant, Sir W. London. 1892.
London in the Times of the Tudors 1908.

Creighton, M. The Age of Elizabeth. 1892.

Creizenach, W. Geschichte des neueren Dramas, Halle,
1893. See vol. iv, part i, book iii, Religios-sittliche und poli-
tisch-soziale Anschauungen der Theaterdichter.

Douce, F. Illustrations of Shakespeare and of Ancient
Manners. 1839.

An English Garner. New ed., 1903. See vols. : Social
England Illustrated; Tudor Tracts, 1532-1582; Stuart Tracts,
1603-1693.

245

Froude, J. A. History of England from the Fall of Wolsey
to the Defeat of the Armada. 1856-1870. Reprinted in
Everyman's Library.

Gildersleeve, V. Government Regulation of the Eliza-
bethan Drama. New York, 1908.

Hall, H. Society in the Elizabethan Age. 4th ed., 1901.

Jusserand, J. J. Histoire litteraire du peuple Anglais.
Paris, 1904. English trans., 1909. See especially vol. ii,
book v, chap. i.

Lee, S. Stratford-on-Avon from the Earliest Times to the
Death of Shakespeare. 1907.

- An Account of Shakespeare's England, a survey of
social life and conditions in the Elizabethan age (in prepara-
tion).

Nicholls, J. The Progresses and Processions of Queen
Elizabeth. New ed., 3 vols., 1823.

- The Progresses, Processions, and Festivities of King
James I. 4 vols., 1828.

Stephenson, H. T. Shakespeare's London. New York,
1905.

— The Elizabethan People. New York, 1910.

Strutt, J. Sports and Pastimes of the People of England.
1801. New ed., 1903.

Thompson, E. N. S. The Controversy between the Puri-
tans and the Stage. Yale Studies in English, vol. xx. New
York, 1903.

Traill, H. D. Social England. 3d ed., 1904. See vols. iii
and iv.

Wakeman, H. O. The Church and the Puritans, 1570-1660.
New ed., 1902.

Wheatley, H. B. London Past and Present. 3 vols.
1891.

246 #m&t): sr>

CHAPTER II

BIOGRAPHICAL FACTS AND TRADITIONS

Halliwell-Phillipps, J. O. Outlines of the Life of Shake-
speare. 2 vols. 7th ed., 1887. Later eds. are reprints.
With illustrations, facsimiles, and a full collection of docu-
ments.

Lambert, D. H. Shakespeare Documents. (Published
originally as Cartse Shakespeareanae, 1904.) A chronological
catalogue of extant evidence.

Lee, Sidney. A Life of William Shakespeare. London and
New York, 1898. New and revised ed., 1909.

- Shakespeare in Oral Tradition, Chap. Ill in Shake-
speare and the Modern Stage, 1906.

The preceding are the most important books, but the fol-
lowing are useful in various ways: William Shakespeare.
K. Elze. Halle, 1876. Eng. trans, by L. D. Schmitz, 1888.
A Chronicle History of the Life and Works of Shakspere.
F. G. Fleay. London, 1886. Shakespeare's Marriage.
J. W. Gray. 1905. Shakespeare's Family. C. C. Stopes.
1901. Shakespeare's Warwickshire Contemporaries. C. C.
Stopes. 1907. New Shakespeare Discoveries. C.W.Wallace.
Harper's Magazine, March, 1910. Catalogues of the books,
manuscripts, works of art, antiquities, and relics at present
exhibited in Shakespeare's birthplace, Stratford-on-Avon,
1910. For discussion of portraits of Shakespeare, see
Portraits of Shakespeare, J. P. Norris, Philadelphia, 1885;
M. R. Spielmann in Stratford-Town Shakespeare, vol. x ; and
in Encycl. Brit., llth ed., article on Shakespeare. On a Portrait
of Shakespeare in the Shakespeare Memorial at Stratf ord-on-
Avon, L. Cust, Proc. Soc. Antiq., 1895.

See also Sources of Traditional Material, Appendix A, p. 225.

347

CHAPTER III

SHAKESPEARE'S READING

Shakespeare's Books : A dissertation on Shakespeare's
reading and the immediate sources of his works. By H. R. D.
Anders. Berlin, 1904. The best book on the subject.

Shakespeare's Studies, T. S. Baynes, 1893.

Shakespeare's Holinshed. Ed. W. G. Boswell-Stone. 1896.
New ed., 1907. A reprint of the passages in Holinshed's
Chronicles which Shakespeare used.

Shakespeare's Plutarch. Ed. W. W. Skeat. 1875.

The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare. J. J. Jus-
serand, trans. E. Lee. 1890.

The Shakespeare Classics, gen. ed. L. Gollancz (hi prog-
ress, 1907-), reprints the chief sources of the plays:
Lodge's Rosalynde, Greene's Pandosto, Brooke's Romeo and
Juliet, the Chronicle History of King Leir, The Taming of a
Shrew, The Sources and Analogues of A Mid-summer-Night's
Dream, Shakespeare's Plutarch. Most of these, with other
valuable material, are found also in W. C. Hazlitt's revision of
Collier's Shakespeare Library. 6 vols. 1875 (out of print).

Many translations which Shakespeare may have known
are included in the long series of the Tudor Translations, ed.
W. E. Henley and Charles Whibley (mostly out of print).

For drama see Bibliography, chap, vi ; for contemporary lit-
erature see bibliography in Cambridge History of English Lit-
erature ; or any short manual, as Saintsbury's Elizabethan
Literature, or Seccombe and Allen's Age of Shakespeare.
2 vols.

248 #ppmDt)C 2D

CHAPTER IV

CHRONOLOGY AND DEVELOPMENT

The first thorough attempt to determine the chronology of
Shakespeare's plays was made in Malone's "Attempt to
ascertain the order in which the plays attributed to Shake-
speare were written," published in Steevens's edition of 1778.
His final conclusions on the subject are to be found in the pre-
liminary volumes of the 1821 Variorum. Since then, discussions
of chronology and development have appeared in almost every
edition of Shakespeare's Works and in many volumes discussing
his life and art. (See Bibliography for Chaps. II and VIII.)
The following are the most important contributions to the
general question of the chronology.

Hertzberg, W. G. Preface to Cymbeline in Ulrici's ed. of
Schlegel and Tieck's trans, of Shakespeare, 1871.

Metrisches, grammatisches, chronologisches zu Shake-

speares Dramen. Jahrbuch, xiii, 1878.

Fleay, F. G. Shakspere Manual, 1878.

New Shakspere Society. Publications for 1874 contain
Fleay's tests as originally proposed with discussions by Furni-
vall, Ingram, et al. Publications for 1877-9 contain F. S.
Pulling's essay on The Speech-ending test, p. 457.

Ingram, J. K. On the weak endings of Shakspere with
some account of the verse-tests in general. N. S. S. Publ. 1874.

Konig, G. Der Vers in Shaksperes Dramen. Quellen
und Forschungen vol. 61, 1888. The fullest presentation of
numerical results for various verse tests.

Furnivall, F. J. Preface to the Leopold Shakespeare, 1876.

Hales, J. W. The Succession of Shakespeare's plays. 1874.

Stokes, H. P. Attempt to determine the chronological
order of Shakespeare's plays, 1878.

249

CHAPTER V

THE ELIZABETHAN DRAMA

Full bibliographies of both plays and critical works are to
be found in Schelling's Elizabethan Drama and in the Cam-
bridge History of English Literature, vols. v and vi.

1. EDITIONS OF PLAYS

Convenient collections, often with valuable introductions
and notes, are : Dodsley's Old English Plays, ed. W. C. Haz-
litt, 15 vols., 1874-1876; Manly's Pre-Shaksperean Drama,
2 vols., Boston; Neilson's Chief Elizabethan Dramatists,
Boston, 1911 (30 plays in one volume) ; the Mermaid Series
of the Old Dramatists (4 or 5 plays by one author in each
vol.); the Belles Lettres Edition (with excellent bibliogra-
phies), Boston ; Masterpieces of the English Drama, New York ;
Temple Dramatists. Valuable reprints of old plays and
documents are found in the following series now in progress :
The Tudor Facsimile Texts, ed. J. S. Farmer, 43 vols., 1907 ;
Materialien zur Kunde des alteren englischen Dramas, ed.
W. Bang, Louvain, 1902 ; Publications of the Malone Society,
1906.

Collected editions of the chief dramatists include those of
Greene, Peele, Webster, Ford, Beaumont and Fletcher, and
Shirley, ed. by Alexander Dyce; of Middleton, Marston,
Marlowe, and Webster, by A. H. Bullen, and the more recent
editions from the Clarendon Press, — Greene, ed. J. Churton
Collins; Kyd, by F. S. Boas; Lyly, by W. Bond; Nash, by -'
McKerrow; Marlowe, by Tucker Brooke. Massinger and
Jonson exist only in the early nineteenth-century editions of
Gifford. There are also recent editions of Beaumont and

250

Fletcher by A. R. Waller, Cambridge, and by A. H. Bullen
et a/. (in progress), and an edition of Chapman by T. Parrott.

2. CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL

Die Geschichte des neueren Dramas. W. Creizenach (in
progress). Halle, 1893- . This is the standard history of
the modern drama, vol. iv dealing in a masterly fashion with
the Shakespearean period. There is no English translation.

History of English Dramatic Literature to the Death of
Queen Anne. A. W. Ward. 2d ed. 3 vols. 1899.

Elizabethan Drama. F. E. Schelling. 2 vols. Boston,

1902. This contains valuable bibliographies and a finding
list for the plays.

The Mediaeval Stage. E. K. Chambers. 2 vols. Oxford,

1903. Authoritative for the pre-Elizabethan drama, with
valuable bibliography and appendices.

A Bibliographical Chronicle of the English Drama. F. G.
Fleay. 1559-1642. A work of great value to scholars, but
not of much service to the general reader.

Other works less comprehensive in scope, but dealing with
special aspects or divisions of the drama, are : Tragedy, A. H.
Thorndike, Boston, 1908; Shakespeare and his Predecessors,
F. S. Boas, 1896; Tudor Drama, C. F. Tucker Brooke,
Boston, 1912.

Special treatises which have also been drawn upon for this
chapter are : F. E. Schelling's English Chronicle Play, New
York, 1902; A. H. Thorndike's Influence of Beaumont and
Fletcher on Shakspere, Lemcke and Buechner, N. Y., 1901 ; and
i Hamlet and the Revenge Plays, Publ. Mod. Lang. Assn., 1902;
E. E. Stoll's John Webster, 1905; F. H. Ristine's English
Tragi-Comedy, 1910; Reyher's Les Masques Anglais, Paris,
1909 ; W. W. Greg's Pastoral Poetry and Pastoral Drama, 1906.

251

CHAPTER VI

THE ELIZABETHAN THEATER

None of the books here listed gives a comprehensive account
of the theater. Greg's admirable edition of Henslowe's
Diary, Fleay's researches, and Murray's supplements to them
are all valuable for students. The account of the stage and
the method of performance given in this chapter are based
in part on Albright. During the last ten years there has
been much controversy on this subject ; and those interested
should consult the bibliographies in the Shakespeare Jahrbuch
under Albright, Brodmeier, Archer, Chambers, Corbin, Law-
rence, Reynolds, Wegener. For contemporary documents,
see the Bibliography to chap, x, vol. vi, of the Cambridge
History of English Literature.

Albright, V. E. The Shakespearian Stage. New York,
1909.

Archer, W. The Elizabethan Stage. Quarterly Review,
April, 1908.

Brodmeier, C. Die Shakespeare-Biihne nach der alten
Biihnenanweisungen. Weimar, 1904.

Chambers, E. K. The Stage of the Globe. Stratford
Ed. Shakespeare's Works, vol. x.

Collier, J. P. Memoirs of the Principal Actors in the Plays
of Shakespeare. Shaks. Soc., 1846.

Feuillerat, A. Documents relating to the Office of the
Revels in the time of Queen Elizabeth. Lou vain, 1908.

Fleay, F. G. A Chronicle History of the London Stage.
1890.

- A Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama, 1559-
1642. 2 vols., 1891.

Gildersleeve, V. Government Regulation of the Eliza-
bethan Theater. New York, 1908.

Greg, W. W., ed. Henslowe's Diary, 2 parts. London,
1907-1908.

Henslowe Papers. 1907.

Lawrence, W. J. The Elizabethan Playhouse and other
studies. Stratford. 1912.

Mantzius, R. A History of Theatrical Art in Ancient and
Modern Times. 1904. Cf. vol. iii.

Murray, J. T. English Dramatic Companies, 1558-1642.
1910.

Ordish, T. F. Early London Theaters. 1894.

Rendle, W. Old Southwark and its People. 1878.

Reynolds, G. F. Some Principles of Elizabethan Staging.
Reprinted from Modern Philology. Chicago, 1905.

What we know of the Elizabethan Stage, Modern

Philology, July, 1911. With bibliography of recent discus-
sions.

Wallace, C. W. The Children of the Chapel at Blackfriars,
1597-1603. Univ. of Nebraska, 1908.

Evolution of the English drama up to Shakespeare :

with a history of the first Blackfriars theatre. Stechert.
1912.

These two volumes contain some newly discovered material,
but their discussions of theatrical history are not valuable.

Wegener, R. Die Buhneneinrichtung des Shakespeareschen
Theaters nach der zeitgenb'ssischen Dramen. Halle, 1907.

CHAPTER VII

HISTORY OF THE TEXT

1. COMPLETE EDITIONS
In one volume.

The Globe Edition, ed. W. G. Clark and W. Aldis Wright.
1864.

The 'Oxford' Edition, ed. W. J. Craig. Oxford, 1904.

The 'Cambridge Poets' Edition, ed. with introductions to
each play, ed. W. A. Neilson. Boston, 1906 (the text used in
the Tudor Shakespeare).

Annotated Library Editions.

The Cambridge Shakespeare, ed. W. Aldis Wright. 9 vols.
1863-1866. 2d ed., 1891-1893. The text known as the Cam-
bridge text is very near to that of the Globe ed., and these
have been generally used in recent editions.

A new Variorum Edition, ed. H. Howard Furness and
H. H. Furness, Jr. (in progress). Philadelphia, 1871. This
ed. prints (latterly) the First Folio text with exhaustive
variants and annotations. The appendices supply much
illustrative matter. The following plays have appeared:
Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth (2d ed.), Hamlet (2 vols.),
Lear, Othello, Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, The
Tempest, A Midsummer-Night's Dream, A Winter's Tale,
Much Ado About Nothing, Twelfth Night, Love's Labour's
Lost, Antony and Cleopatra, Richard III, Julius Caesar.

The Arden Shakespeare, general ed. W. J. Craig, in progress,
1899. Publ. in the U. S. without special title by Bobbs-
Merrill Co., Indianapolis.

The Eversley Edition, ed. by C. H. Herford. 10 vols., 1901-
1907.

254 #ppmaij: 2D

Among other recent editions are the Rolfe ed., 40 vols.,
1871, revised 1896; Temple, ed. I. Gollancz, 40 vols., 1894,
1895 ; First Folio, ed. C. Porter and H. Clarke (following and
defending the text of the First Folio). New York, 1903;
Caxton, general ed. S. Lee, 1910.

Historical Editions.

The most valuable is the Third Variorum, Boswell and
Malone, 21 vols., 1821. The other principal editions are dis-
cussed in this volume, and include : Rowe, 1709, 1714 ; Pope,
1723-1725; Theobald, 1733; Hanmer, 1744; Warburton,
1747; Johnson, 1765; Steevens (20 plays), 1766; Capell,
1768; Steevens (and Johnson), 1773; Malone, 1790; Reed
(Steevens and Johnson), 1st Variorum, 1803; 2d Variorum,
1813; Knight, 1838-1842, second ed., 1842-1844 ; Hudson,
1851-1856; Delius, 1854-1861 ; Dyce, 1857, second ed., 1864-
1867; White, 1857-1860, second ed., 1859-1865.

2. FACSIMILE REPRINTS

For a discussion of conditions of publication of early edi-
tions, see A. W. Pollard's Shakespeare's Folios and Quartos.
1909.

The First Folio. With introd. by Sidney Lee. Oxford,
1902.

The First, Second, Third, and Fourth Folios. Methuen,
1904-1910.

The First Folio, reprint, L. Booth, 1869.

The First Folio, in reduced facsimile, J. O. Halliwell-Phil-
lipps, 1876. Very small type.

Quarto Facsimiles. E. W. Ashbee. 48 vols. 1862-1871.

Quarto Facsimiles reproduced by photographic process,

255

J. W. Griggs, under the superintendence of F. J. Furnivall.
43 vols. 1883-1889.

Shakespeare's Poems and Pericles, with introduction by
Sidney Lee. 5 vols. Oxford, 1905.

3. GLOSSARIES, GRAMMARS, ETC.

The standard concordance is Bartlett's New and Complete
Concordance, 1894. The standard dictionary and one of the
great monuments of Shakespeare scholarship is Alexander
Schmidt's Shakespeare-Lexikon. 2 vols. Berlin, 1894, 1895.
3d ed., 1902. This contains valuable appendices on syntax.
The most recent brief glossary is C. T. Onion's Shakespeare
Glossary. Oxford, 1911. It makes partial use of the valuable
material in the New English Dictionary. The best grammar
in English, though now somewhat out of date, is F. A. Ab-
bott's Shakespearian Grammar, 1869, often reprinted.

The following are also of value :

Cunliffe, R. J. A New Shakespearean Dictionary. 1910.

Dyce, A. A Glossary to the Works of Shakespeare. 1867.
Revised by H. Littledale, 1902.

Ellis, A. J. On Early English Pronunciation, with especial
reference to Shakspere and Chaucer. 5 parts. E. E. T. S.,
1869-1889.

Franz, W. Shakespeare-Grammatik. 2 parts. Halle,
1898-1900. 2d ed., Heidelberg, 1905. No English transla-
tion.

Victor, W. A Shakespeare Phonology. Marburg and
London, 1906.

256 #ppmDtr 3SE>

CHAPTER VIII

QUESTIONS OF AUTHENTICITY
1. THE DOUBTFUL PLAYS

The Shakespeare Apocrypha. Ed. C. F. T. Brooke. Oxford,
1908. This contains texts of fourteen of the plays discussed
in this chapter.

Pseudo-Shakespearean Plays. Ed. K. Warnke and L. Proes-
choldt. 5 vols. Halle, 1883, 1888. Contains only 5 plays.

The Two Noble Kinsmen. Ed. H. Littledale. New Shaks.
Soc. Publ., 1876.

Doubtful Plays of William Shakespeare. Ed. M. Moltke.
Leipsig, 1869. Contains 6 plays.

A good bibliography for the critical matter on these plays
is to be found in the Cambridge History of English Litera-
ture, vol. v, pp. 442-444. As to Cardenio, connected with
Double Falsehood, see Bradford, G., Jr., Mod. Lang. Notes,
February, 1910.

2. FORGERIES

Ingleby, C. M. The Shakespeare Fabrications. 1859. A
complete review of the Collier forgeries, with bibliography.

Ireland, W. H. Confessions containing the particulars of
his fabrication of the Shakespeare manuscripts. 1808.

Malone, E. Inquiry into the Authenticity (of the Ireland
Ms.). 1796.

Law, E. Some Supposed Shakespeare Forgeries. 1911.

Wheatley, H. B. Notes on the life of John Payne Collier.
1884. Gives a list and account of the spurious documents.

257

3. THE BACON CONTROVERSY

Allen, C. Notes on the Bacon-Shakespeare question.
Boston, 1900. An account of Shakespeare's legal phrases.

Bacon, Delia. The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakespeare
Unfolded. 1857.

Bacon, Francis. Life and Letters. Ed. J. Spedding. 7
vols. 1861-1872.

Beeching, H. C. William Shakespeare : Player, Playmaker
and Poet. A reply to Mr. George Greenwood. 1908.

Bompas, G. C. The Problem of Shakespeare's Plays.
1902.

Booth, W. S. Some Acrostic Signatures of Francis Bacon.
Boston, 1909.

Donnelly, I. The Great Cryptogram. 2 vols. Chicago,
1887.

Fiske, John. Forty Years of Bacon-Shakespeare Folly.
Atlantic Monthly, 1897; reprinted in Century of Science,
1899.

Gallup, E. W. The Bi-literal Cypher of Francis Bacon.

Greenwood, G. G. The Shakespeare Problem restated.
Lane, 1908.

- In re Shakespeare Beeching v. Greenwood. Lane,
1909.

Lang, A. Shakespeare, Bacon, and the Great Unknown.
1912.

Pott, Mrs. H. Did Francis Bacon write Shakespeare?
Chicago, 1891.

Robertson, J. M. The Baconian heresy, 1913.

Wyman, W. H. Bibliography of the Shakespeare-Baconian
controversy. Cincinnati, 1884. Continued in Shakespeari-
ana. Philadelphia.
B

358 3ppmUfr 2D

CHAPTER IX

SHAKESPEARE SINCE 1616
1. THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES

The Shakespeare Allusion Books. Ed. J. Munro. 2 vols.
This reprints references to Shakespeare before 1700.

Eighteenth Century Essays on Shakespeare. Ed. D.
Nichol Smith. Glasgow. Contains Rowe's, Pope's, Theo-
bald's, Johnson's prefaces, Farmer's essay on Shakespeare's
learning, Morgann's essay on Falstaff, etc.

Shakespearian Wars. T. R. Lounsbury. i. Shakespeare
as a Dramatic Artist, ii. Shakespeare and Voltaire. 2 vols.
Yale Univ., 1901.

First Editors of Shakespeare or The Text of Shakespeare
(Pope and Theobald). T. R. Lounsbury. 1906.

Shakespeare en France sous 1'ancien regime. J. J. Jus-
serand. Paris. 1898. Eng. trans. London, 1899.

Considerable matter in the following volumes from the
Clarendon Press bears on the early criticism of Shakespeare :
Elizabethan Critical Essays, ed. Gregory Smith, 2 vols. ;
Seventeenth Century Critical Essays, ed. J. E. Spingarn,
3 vols. ; Dryden's Essays, ed. W. P. Ker, 2 vols.

2. THE NINETEENTH AND TWENTIETH CENTURIES

Baker, G. P. The Development of Shakespeare as a Drama-
tist. Macmillan, 1907.

Boas, F. S. Shakespeare and his Predecessors. 1895.

Bradley, A. C. Shakespearean Tragedy. Macmillan,
1904.

- Oxford Lectures on Poetry. Macmillan, 1909.

259

Brandes, G. William Shakespeare. Copenhagen, 1896.
Eng. trans. 2 vols., 1898.

Coleridge, S. T. Notes and Lectures on Shakespeare, etc.
2 vols. 1849. Reprinted in Everyman's Library, the
New Universal Library, and Bonn's Library.

Collins, J. C. Studies in Shakespeare. 1904.

Dowden, E. Shakspeare : His Mind and Art. 1874.

- A Shakspere Primer. 1877.

- Introduction to Shakespeare. 1893.

Elze, K. William Shakespeare. Halle, 1876. Eng. trans.,
1888.

Goethe. Wilhelm Meister, book IV, chaps. 13-16, con-
tains an analysis of Hamlet.

- Wahrheit und Dichtung, and Eckermann's Reports
of Goethe's conversations contain references. An essay

"Shakespeare und kein Ende" appears in his collected
works.

Hazlitt, W. Characters of Shakespeare's plays, 1817. Re-
printed in Everyman's Library, New Universal Library,
Bonn's Library.

Heine, Heinrich. Shakespeare's Maidens and Women, in
Works. Eng. trans. Heinemann, 1851.

Jameson, Mrs. Shakespeare's Heroines. Temple Classics.

Kreyssig, F. S. T. Vorlesungen iiber Shakespeare. 2 vols.
3d ed. Berlin, 1876.

Lamb, Charles. On Some of the Old Actors (Essays of
Elia). Reprinted in Everyman's Library.

- On the Tragedies of Shakespeare (Misc. essays). Re-
printed in Temple Classics.

Lee, Sidney. Shakespeare and the Modern Stage. 1906.
Lessing, G. E. Laokobn, and Dramatic Notes. Eng. trans..
Bohn's Library.

260

MacCallum, M. W. Shakespeare's Roman Plays and their
Background. 1910.

Martin, Lady (Helen Faucit). On Some of Shakespeare's
Female Characters. 1885.

Matthews, Brander. Shakespeare as a Playwright. In
preparation.

Moulton, R. G. Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. Ox-
ford, 1885.

- The Moral System of Shakespeare. 1903.
Raleigh, W. Shakespeare (English Men of Letters). 1907.
Schlegel, A. W. von. Lectures on Dramatic Art and Litera-

ture. Reprinted in Bohn's Library.

Swinburne, A. C. A Study of Shakespeare. 1880.

Thorndike, A. H. The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher
on Shakespeare. Lemcke and Buechner, N. Y., 1901.

Wendell, B. William Shakspere. 1894.

White, R. G. Studies in Shakespeare. 9th ed. 1896.

- Shakespeare's Scholar. 1854.

Important critical and interpretative aids will also be
found in the bibliographies for earlier chapters, as in the com-
plete editions of Shakespeare's works, in histories of litera-
ture and the drama, or in special studies, as Anders's
Shakespeare's Books, and Madden's Diary of Master William
Silence.

For a handy bibliography of studies of botany, folk-lore, law,
medicine, the supernatural in Shakespeare, etc., see the Cam-
bridge History of English Literature, vol. v, pp. 450, 451, to
which may be added Freytag, G., Technique of the Drama,
Eng. trans. 1891 ; Matthew, B., A Study of the Drama, 1910 ;
Arnold, M. E., Soliloquies of Shakespeare, New York, 1911 ;
Fansler, H. E., Evolution of Technic in Elizabethan Tragedy,
1914 ; Archer, W., Play Making, 1912.

261

In the New Variorum Furaess gives a summary of the inter-
pretation and criticism for each play; but he is often quite
neglectful of recent tendencies in criticism.

3. STAGE HISTORY

The standard work for the English stage is Some Account
of the English Stage, from the Restoration in 1660 to 1830, by
J. Genest, 10 vols., Bath, 1832. There is no authoritative
history of the stage since 1832. Information in regard to the
Shakespearean plays may be had in the lives of the actors,
as Colley Gibber's Apology; Davies's Memoirs of Garrick,
1790 ; Murphy's Life of Garrick, 1801 ; Boaden's Memoirs of
Mrs. Siddons, 1827, and Memoirs of Kemble, 1825; Cum-
berland's Memoir, 1806 ; Boaden's Memoirs of Mrs. Inchbald ;
Private Correspondence of David Garrick, 1831-1832;
Cooke's Memoirs of Charles Macklin, 1808; Macready's
Reminiscences, 1878; Archer's Life of Macready, 1890;
Molloy's Life of Edmund Kean, 1888 ; Winter's Life and Art
of Edwin Booth, 1893 ; Brereton's Life of Sir Henry Irving,
London, 1908.

Baker, H. B. The London Stage, 1576-1903. 1904.

Brown, J. S. A History of the New York Stage, 1732-
1901. 3 vols. New York, 1903.

Doran, J. Their Majesties' Servants. 1888. Ed. R. W.
Lowe.

Dunlap, W. A History of the American Theater. 1832.

Fitzgerald, P. A New History of the English Stage. 2
vols. London, 1882.

Hazlitt, W. A View of the, English Stage. 1818.

Home, R. H. New Spirit of the Age. 1884.

Lowe, R. W. Thomas Betterton. New York, 1891.

262

Lowe, R. W. Bibliographical Account of English Dramatic
Literature. 1888.

Phelps, W. M., and Forbes Robertson, J. Life and Works
of Samuel Phelps. London, 1886.

Seilhamer, G. O. A History of the American Theater.
3 vols. Philadelphia, 1891.

4. SHAKESPEARE ON THE CONTINENT

A good selected bibliography is to be found in the Cam-
bridge History of English Literature, vol. v, pp. 456-472,
and a full bibliography annually in the Shakespeare Jahrbuch.
Only a few of the most important titles are given here, in-
cluding some already noted.

Bohtling, A. R. A. Goethe und Shakespeare. Leipzig,
1909.

Burckhardt, C. A. H. Das Repertoire des Weimarischen
Theaters unter Goethes Leitung. Hamburg, 1901.

Chateaubriand, F. R. de. Shakespeare. 1801.

Cohn, A. Shakespeare in Germany in the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries. Berlin, 1865.

Creizenach, W. Die Schauspiele der englischen Komodian-
ten. Stuttgart, 1889.

Delius, N. Sammtliche Werke, Kritische Ausgabe. 1854-
1861. 5th ed., 1882.

Elze, K. William Shakespeare. Halle, 1876.

Genee, R. Geschichte der Shakespeareschen Dramen in
Deutschland. Leipzig, 1870.

Guizot, F. De Shakespeare et de la Poesie dramatique.
Paris, 1822.

Heine, H. Shakespeares Madchen und Frauen, in sammt-
liche Werke. vol. v, 1839. Eng. trans., 1895.

363

Hugo, F. V. (Euvres completes de Shakespeare, traduites.
18 vols. Paris v,856-1867.

Hugo, Victor. Cromwell, Preface. Paris, 1827.
— William Shakespeare. Paris, 1864.

Jusserand, J. J. Shakespeare en France sous Tancien
regime. Paris, 1898. Eng. trans. London, 1899.

Koeppel, E. Studien iiber Shakespeare's Wirkung auf
zeitgenossische Dramatiker. Louvain, 1905.

Kreyssig, F. Vorlesungen iiber Shakespeare und seine
Werke. 1858. 3d ed., 1877.

Lee, Sidney. Shakespeare in France. In Shakespeare and
the Modern Stage.

Lessing, G. E. Hamburgische Dramaturgic. Nos. 12, 15,
73. 1767, 1768.

Lounsbury, T. R. Shakespeare and Voltaire. 1902.

Mezieres, A. Shakespeare, ses oeuvres et ses critiques.
Paris, 1860.

Renan, E. Caliban, Suite de la Tempete. Paris, 1878.

Schlegel, A. W. Ueber dramatische Kunst und Literatur.
Heidelberg, 1809-1811.

- Shakespeare's Dramatische Werke, iibersetzt. 1797-
1810. Neue Ausgabe, erganzt und erlautert von L. Tieck.
9 vols. 1825, 1880-1883. Revised by Ulrici, 1867-1871, by
Grandl, 1897-1899, by H. Conrad, 1905.

Stendhal (Henri Bergh) Racine et Shakespeare. Paris,
1823.

Taine, H. Histoire de la litterature anglaise. Paris, 1844.
Eng. trans., rev. ed., 1873.

Ten Brink, B. Shakespeare. Strassburg, 1893.

Tolstoi, L. N. Shakespeare. 1906.

Ward, A. W. History of English Dramatic Literature.
vol. i, pp. 534 ff.

Adversaria, 45.
jfflsop's Fables, 52.
dZthiopica of Heliodorus, 56.
Albright, V. E., 116, 122.
Alchemist, 33, 95, 105.
Alden, R. M., 48, 88.
Alleyn, Edward, 117, 119, 120.
All for Love, 169.
All's Well that Ends Well, 52,

57, 73, 74, 82, 174.
Amores, 53.
Amphitruo, 54.
Andria, 96.

Antonio's Revenge, 106.
Antony and Cleopatra, 75, 82,

105, 142, 169, 196, 197.
Apollonius of Tyre, 60.
Apologie for Actors, 156.
Apolonius and Silla, 58.
Appius and Virginia, 98.
Arcadia, 61.

Archbishop of Canterbury, 136.
Arden of Feversham, 109, 161,

162.

Ariosto, 57, 58, 95.
Aristophanes, 91, 104.
Arraignment of Paris, 161.
Aspley, William, 143.
As You Like It, 46, 52, 57,62,

68, 73, 80, 113, 127, 136, 174.
Aubrey, John, 38, 39, 43, 44.
Autographs, facsimiles of, 36.

Bacon, Delia, 163.

Bacon, Francis, 2, 13, 16, 61,

163-166, 191, 192.
Bacon, Matthew, 26.

"Baconians," 163-166.
Bandello, 57, 58.
Bankside, 7, 117, 120.
Barnay, L. 184.
Barnes, Barnabe, 61.
Barons' Wars, 62.
Barrie, J. M., 177.
Bartholomew Fair, 105.
Batman upon Bartholome, 64.
Beaumont and Fletcher, 64,

91, 109, 110, 112, 113, 168.
Beaumont, Francis, 31, 110.

See Beaumont and Fletcher.
Belleforest, 57.
Beeston, Christopher, 29, 39.
Betterton, Thomas, 43, 130,

169, 174.

Bevis of Hampton, 59.
Bible, the, 1, 64.
Bidford, 40, 41.
Bi-Lateral Cypher of Francis

Bacon, 164.
Biron, 108.
Birth of ; Merlin, 161.
Blackfriars, property in, 26;

theater, 12, 26, 32, 118, 120,

159.

Blount, Edward, 143.
Boccaccio, 57, 96.
Booth, Barton, 174.
Booth, Edwin, 176, 177.
Booth, Junius Brutus, 176.
Boswell, J., 152.
Bowdler, T., 153.
Bradley, A. C., 75, 181.
Broken Heart, 112.
Brome, R., 112.

266

Brooke, Arthur, 60.
Buckinghamshire, Duke of, 44.
Burbage, Cuthbert, 32, 117,

118, 119.

Burbage, James, 117.
Burbage, Richard, 24, 29,32,34,

44, 117, 118, 119, 124, 130.
Bussy d'Ambois, 108.
Byron, Lord, 191.

Caesar, Julius, 55, 124.
Cambridge Shakespeare, 153,

154, 155.

Cambyses, 63, 92, 98.
Capell, Edward, 151, 161.
Cardenio, 160.
Cartwright, W., 112.
Catiline, 33, 108.
Caxton, 60.

Chambers1 Journal, 163.
Chandos portrait, 38.
Changeling, 111.
Chapman, George, 31, 56, 91,

103, 105, 108.
Chaucer, 31, 53, 60.
Chettle, Henry, 22, 23, 103, 107.
Cibber, Colley, 130, 169, 174.
Gibber, Mrs., 174.
Cicero, 52.

Cinthio, Giraldi, 57, 58.
City Madam, 112.
Clark, W. G., 154.
Clive, Mrs., 174.
Cockpit theater, 39, 118.
Coleridge, S. T., 159, 175, 179,

180, 182.
Colin Clout, 61.
Collier, J. P., 153, 163.
Collins, Francis, 35.
Combe, John, 25, 26, 40.
Combe, William, 25.
Comedy of Errors, 54, 68, 74,

78, 95.
Condell Henry, 29, 32, 35,

142, 157.

Confessio Amantis, 60.

Congreve, William, 111.

Constable, Henry, 61.

Contention of York and Lan-
caster, 161.

Coriolanus, 52, 82, 169.

Corneille, 182.

Cornelia, 99.

Covent Garden theater, 118.

Craig, W. J., 154.

Curtain theater, 117, 122.

Cushman, Charlotte, 176.

Cymbeline, 57, 63, 68, 73, 110,
169, 174.

Daniel, Samuel, 61, 62, 113.
D'Avenant, Sir William, 43,

44, 45, 112, 168.
Davies, Rev. R., 41.
Decameron, 57.
Dekker, T., 31, 103, 104, 105,

109, 111.

De la Litterature, 185.
Delius, N., 153, 154, 172.
Dennis, John, 177.
De proprietatibus rerum, 64.
De Quincey, T., 159.
Derby's men, 120.
Devrients, the, 184.
De Witt drawing of Swan

theater, 120, 121.
Diana of Montemayor, 58.
Diderot, D., 184.
Discovery of Guiana, 64.
Distichs of Cato, 52.
Donnelly, I., 164.
Double Falsehood, 160, 162.
Dowdall, John, 42.
Dowden, E., 84, 181.
Downes, John, 43.
Downfall and Death of Hunt-

ington, 103.
Drake, Sir F., 96.
Drayton, Michael, 40, 61.
Droeshout, Martin, 37, 38 n.

267

Drummond, W., 46.

Drury Lane theater, 118, 175.

Dryden, John, 111, 168, 169,

170, 182, 190, 192.
Duels, J. F., 185.
Dunciad, 149.

Dyce, A., 153, 155, 161, 172.
Dyke, John, 29.

Earl of Leicester's men, 119,

120.

Earl of Worcester's men, 119.
Eden's History of Travayle, 64.
Edward III, 161, 162.
Edwards, Richard, 60.
Edwards, T., 150.
Elizabeth, Queen, 1, 2, 9, 10,

11, 32, 79, 119, 133.
Ellesmere, Lord, 163.
Ely Palace portrait, 37, 38 n.
English Dramatic Poets, 38.
English Traveller, quoted, 133.
Epicene, 95.

Essay of Dramatic Poesie, 168.
Essex, Earl of, 68, 124.
Euphues, 62.
Euripides, 90, 91.
Evans, Sir Hugh, 51.
Everyman in His Humour, 39,

103.

Fables in Shakespeare, 52.

Fabyan's Chronicles, 63.

Faerie Queen, 61.

Fair Em, 161.

Fair Quarrel, 111.

Faithful Shepherdess, 113.

Fasti, 53.

Faucit, Helen, 176.

Field, Richard, 23.

First Folio, described, 141-
143 ; facsimile of title-page,
143 ; 167 ; introductory
matter in, see APPENDIX A.

Fisher Quarto, 141 n.

Fleay, F. G., 72 n, 172.

Fletcher, John, 79, 91, 110,
111, 112, 113, 114; colla-
boration on Two Noble
Kinsman, 159, 160; 168,
177, 191. See Beaumont
and Fletcher.

Fletcher, Lawrence, 32.

Florio, John. See Montaigne,
57.

Flower, Mrs. Charles, 37.

Folios, Second, Third, Fourth,
145, 157.

Ford, John, 91, 109, 112, 113.

Forman, Dr. Simon, 68.

Forrest, Edwin, 176.

Fortune theater, 11, 117, 119,
121, 122; diagram of, 123.

Foxe, John, Book of Martyrs,
63.

Friar Bacon and Friar Bun-
gay, 97.

Fuller, Thomas, 38.

Fulman, Rev. W., 41.

Furness, H. H., 144, 154, 159.

Galileo, 191.
Gallup, Mrs., 164.
Gammer Gurton's Needle, 94.
Garrick Club bust, 38.
Garrick, David, 130, 173, 174,

175, 176, 177.

Gascoigne, George, 5, 58, 63.
Gervinus, 180.
Gesta Romanorum, 57.
Getley, Walter, 25.
Gildon, C., 146.
Goethe, 179, 180, 183, 190.
Globe Shakespeare, 154.
Globe theater, 11, 117, 118,

119, 120, 121, 124, 177.
Glover, J., 154.
Golding, Arthur, 53.
Gorboduc, 98.
Gottsched, J. C., 182.

268

Gower, 31.

Grafton's Chronicles, 63.
Great Cryptogram, 164.
Greene, Robert, attack on S.,

20-23: 62, 63, 90, 96, 97,

101, 102, 158.
Greene's Funeralls, 21, 22.
Greene's Groatsworth of Wit,

20-22.

Greg, W. W., 140 n.
Gresham, Sir Thomas, 10.
Grey, Z., 150.
Guarini, G. B., 113.
Guizot, F., 185.
Guy of Warwick, 59.

Hakluyt, Richard, 64.
Hall, John, 25, 34.
Hall, Susanna, 25, 34.
Hall, William, 35, 42.
Halliwell-Phillipps, J. O., 153,

181.
Hall's Union of Lancaster and

York, 63, 101.
Hamburgische Dramaturgie,

182.
Hamlet, 43, 45, 47, 49, 54, 63,

73, 75, 81, 87, 100, 160, 107,

119, 135, 136, 137, 145, 169,

184, 185.
Hamlet, the lost, 100, 106,

107.

Hanmer, Sir T., 149, 150.
Harness, W., 153.
Harsnett's Popish Impostures,

62.

Hart, J. C., 163.
Hazlitt, William, 175, 179,

180.

Heath, B., 150.
Hecatommithi, 58.
Heliodorus, 56.
Heminge, John, 29, 32, 35,

142, 157.
Henderson, J., 175.

1 Henry IV, 30, 62, 73, 137.

2 Henry IV, 30, 62, 69.
Henry V, 52, 56, 63, 68, 79,

135, 136, 149.

1 Henry VI, 63, 77, 102, 120,
141, 157.

2 Henry VI, 52, 54, 63, 77, 99,

102, 141, 157, 161.

3 Henry VI, 21, 63, 77, 99, 102,

157, 161, 169.
Henry VIII, 34, 63, 74, 124,

157, 160, 162.

Henry VIII, 10, 11, 43, 79.
Henryson, Robert, 60.
Henslowe, P., 117, 119.
Herder, J. G., 183.
Hero and Leander, 62.
Heyes Quarto, 141 n.
Heywood, Thomas, 31, 95,

105, 111, 131; quoted in

publishing, 132-134, 135,

156.
History of English Dramatic

Poetry, 163.
Hoffman, 107.
Hollar, W., 120.
Hollinshed's Chronicles, 63, 65,

101.

Homer, 56, 96, 187, 194.
Honest Whore, 105.
Hooker, Richard, 2, 61.
Hope theater, 117, 119.
Horace, 51, 54.
Horestes, 98.
Hugo, F. V., 185.
Hugo, Victor, 185.
Hunsdon's men, 120.
Huon of Bordeaux, 59.

Ibsen, H., 177.

// you know not me you know

nobodie, quoted, 133, 134.
Ingram, J. K., 72 n.
Ireland, W. H., 162, 163.
Irving, Sir Henry, 176.

269

Jacob, E., 161.
Jaggard, Isaac, 143.
Jaggard, William, 140 n, 143,

156.
James I, 9, 12, 32, 44, 69, 119,

120.

James IV, 98.
Janssen, Gerard, 37.
Jocasta, 98.
Johnson, Samuel, 150, 151,

152, 178, 179, 182.
John, King, 78.
Jonson, Ben, 13, 29, 30,

31, 33, 39, 40, 45, 46, 50,

63, 91, 95, 103, 105, 107,

108, 109, 111, 112,114, 131;

eulogy of S., 167, 168; 182,

190

Jordan's Collections, 162.
Jordan, Mrs., 175.
Julius Ccesar, 81, 105, 108, 169,

182.

Jusserand, J. J., 185.
Juvenal, 54.

Kean, Edmund, 175.
Kemble, J. P., 162, 175.
Kempe, Will., 24.
Kendrick, 152.
Kesselstadt, death-mask, 38.
Kind-Heart's Dream, 22.
King and No King, 109.
King Cophetua and the Beggar

Maid, 59.
King John, 30, 52, 63, 78, 141,

161.

King's men, 120.
Kipling, Rudyard, 51.
Kirkman's Drolls, 120.
Knight, Charles, 153, 154.
Knight's Tale, 60.
Konig, G., 72 n, 75.
- Kyd, Thomas, 63, 90, 98, 99,
— 100, 101, 102, 105, 106M07,

158, 167.

Lacy, John, 39.

Lamb, Charles, 159, 175, 179.

Langbaine, G., 38.

La Place's translation, 184.

Lear, 47, 49, 61, 62, 63, 75, 81,

85, 99, 114, 135, 140, 140 n,

169.

Lee, Sidney, 181.
Legend of Good Women, 60.
Leicester, Earl of, 5, 119.
Lessing, G. E., 182.
Le Tourneur, P., 184, 185.
Lily's Grammar, 51, 54.
Littledale, H., 159.
Lives of eminent men, 38.
Livy, 55, 60.
Locrine, 100, 157, 158.
Lodge, Thomas, 62.
Londinopolis, 120.
London, described, 6-12.
London Prodigal, 157, 158.
Lope de Vega, 95.
Lord Admiral's men, 119,

120.

Lord Chamberlain's men, 120.
Lover's Complaint, A, 62, 156.
Love's Labour's Lost, 29, 30,

51, 52, 74, 78, 88, 97, 137,

156, 189.

Love's Labour's Won, 30.
Lowin, John, 43, 130.
Lucan, 55.
Lucian, 56.
Lucrece, 23, 29, 30, 53, 54, 62,

87, 131.

Lucy, Sir T., 41.
Lyly, John, 63, 90, 95, 96, 97,

102, 113, 167.

Macbeth, 68, 74, 75, 81, 99,

169, 174, 183, 185.
Macklin, C., 175.
Macready, W., 176.
M aid's Tragedy, 109.
Malcontent, 104 ; quoted, 134.

370

Malone, Edmund, 152, 163,

172.

Malory, Sir T., 96.
Mannering, Arthur, 26.
Manningham, John, 44.
Mantuan's Eclogues, 52.
Marlowe, Christopher, 13, 16,

62, 63, 68, 72, 90, 98, 99,

101, 102, 104, 105, 106, 158,

167, 177.

Marlowe, Julia, 176.
Marston, J., 103, 104, 106,

107, 134.

Mason, J. M., 152.
Masque of the Inner Temple

and Gray's Inn, 160.
Massinger, Philip, 91, 92, 111,

112, 168.

Matthews, Sir T., 165.
Measure for Measure, 58, 63,

82, 83, 104.
Memoirs of Edward Alleyn,

163.

Mennes, Sir John, 41.
Menoechmi, 54.
Merchant of Venice, 30, 57, 58,

80, 85, 99, 137, 140 n, 174,

184.
Meres, Francis, Palladis

Tamia, 27, 68.

Merry Devil of Edmonton, 161.
Merry Wives of Windsor, 51,

58, 60, 73, 80, 95, 135, 136,

140 n, 169.

Messalina, 120, 121, 122.
Metamorphoses, 53.
Mezieres, A, 185.
Middleton, Sir Hugh, 10.
Middleton, T., 103, 104, 107,

109.
Midsummer Night's Dream, 30,

40, 53, 58, 59, 60, 61, 73, 80,

97, 124, 137, 140 n, 184.
Milton, John, 114, 168, 194.
Miracle plays, 5, 93.

Miseries of Enforced Marriage,

159.

Misfortunes of Arthur, 98.
Moliere, 91, 95.
Montagu, Mrs. Elizabeth, 178.
Montaigne, 56.
Montemayor, George of, 58.
Morality plays, 93, 94.
More, Sir Thomas, life of, 17.
Morgann, M., 179.
Mother Bombie, 95, 97.
Mount joy, Christopher, 27.
Much Ado About Nothing, 51,

57, 80, 137, 148, 174.
Mucedorus, 103, 161.
Munday, A., 95, 103.
Music, Shakespeare in, 186.

Neidig, W. J., 140 n.
Neilson Text, 154.
Newcastle, Duchess of, 168.
Newington Butts theater, 120.
New Variorum, 144, 154.
New Way to Pay Old Debts,

112.

Nice Wanton, 92.
North, Sir Thomas, 56. See

Plutarch.

Oldcastle, Sir John, 140 n.
Old Fortunatus, 103.
Oldys, William, 45.
Othello, 58, 64, 75, 81, 85, 99,
114, 169, 170, 184, 185, 195.
Otway, T., 169.
Ovid, 53, 60, 65, 87, 96.
Oxford Shakespeare, 154.

Painful Adventures of Pericles,

159.
Painter's Palace of Pleasure,

57, 61.

Palmer, J., 175.
Palladis Tamia, 29, 30, 68.
Pandosto, 62.

371

Passionate Pilgrim, 30, 156.

Pastor Fido, 113.

Pavier, T., 140 n.

Pecorone, II., 58.

Peele, George, 63, 90, 113, 158.

Pericles, 60, 75, 83, 114, 135,
136, 140, 140 n, 145, 148,
151, 157, 158.

Persius, 54.

Petrarch, 58.

Phelps, S., 176.

Philaster, 109, 110, 113.

Philip, Augustus, 29, 32.

Phillips, Edward, 38.

Philosophy of the Plays of 8.,
163.

Phoenix and the Turtle, 156.

Piacevoli Notti, 58.

Plautus, 54, 93, 95.

Pleasant Dialogues and Dra-
mas, 133.

Pliny, 55, 64.

Plume, Archdeacon, 41.

Plutarch's Lives, 52, 55, 56.

Poetaster, 104.

Pollard, A. W., 140 n.

Pope, Alexander, 144, 147,
148, 149, 158.

Pope, Thomas, 29.

Preston, T., 63.

Pritchard, Mrs., 174.

Prince's men, 119.

Puritan, the 158.

Puritan Widow, 157.

Putnam's Monthly, 163.

Quartos, 135-140; table of,
138, 139; of apocryphal
plays, 158.

Queen's Arcadia, 113.

Queen's Chapel boys, 118.

Queen's men, 119.

Quiney, Richard, 28.

Quiney, Thomas, son-in-law of
S., 28.

Rabelais, 57.

Racine, 91, 182.

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 13, 16, 64.

Ralph Royster Doyster, 95.

Rape of Lucrece, quoted, 132.

Recuyell of Troy, 60.

Red Bull theater, 117, 120.

Reed, I., 152.

Rehan, Ada, 176.

Return from Parnassus, 30.

Revenger's Tragedy, 107.

Richard II, 29, 36, 52, 62, 79,

99, 106, 169.
Richard III, 36, 54, 63, 77, 99,

102, 135, 140, 154, 169.
Riche, Barnaby, 58, 61.
Ristori, Madame, 185.
Ritson, T., 152.
Roberts Quartos, 140 n, 141 n.
Robertson, Sir Forbes, 176.
Robin Hood, 159.
Robin Hood plays, 103.
Romance of Yachting, 163.
Romeo and Juliet, 30, 60, 73,

74, 77, 106, 135, 136, 137,

169, 174, 182, 183, 195.
Romeus and Juliet, 60.
Ronsard, 57.
Rosalynde, 62.
Rosamond, 62.
Rose theater, 117, 119, 120.
Rossi, 185.
Rowe, Nicholas, 42, 43, 45,

146, 147, 158, 172.
Rowley, W., 111.
Roxana, 120, 121.
Rutland, Earl of, 164.
Rymer, T., 170.

Sadler's Wells, 176.
Salisbury Court theater, 118.
Salvini, T., 185.
Sanazzaro, 96.
Schlegel, A. W., 180, 183.
Schmidt's Lexicon, 183.

272

Schroeder, F., 184.

Scott, Sir Walter, 191.

Sejanus, 33, 108.

Seneca, 54, 93, 99, 100, 105.

Sententice Pueriles, 52.

Shakespeare, Anna, 18.

Shakespeare, Anne (Hatha-
way), 19.

Shakespeare, Edmund, 18.

Shakespeare, Gilbert, 18, 46.

Shakespeare, Hamnet, 20, 85.

Shakespeare, Joan, 18.

Shakespeare, John, 4, 5, 18,
24, 40, 41.

Shakespeare, Judith, 20, 35.

Shakespeare, Mary Arden, 18,
24, 35.

Shakespeare, Richard, 18.

Shakespeare, Susanna, 25, 34.

Shakespeare, William. See
CONTENTS. Monument of,
frontispiece ; facsimile auto-
graphs of, 36; portrait of
in First Folio, 143.

Shakespeare and the Drama,
Schlegel's, 183.

Shakespeare Restored, 148.

Shakespeare Society, New,
160.

Shaw, G. B., 177.

Shelley, P. B. 191.

Sheridan, T., 162.

Shirley, James, 91, 92, 112,
113.

Shirley, Sir A., 164.

Short View of Tragedy, 170.

Siddons, Mrs. Sarah, 175, 177.

Sidney, Sir Philip, 13, 16, 61.

Simpson, R., 161.

Singer, S. W., 153.

Sir Thomas More, 161, 162.

Sir Thomas Oldcastle, 157, 158.

Slye, William, 29.

Smethwick, John, 143.

Smith, W. H., 163.

Soliman and Perseda, 100.
Somers, Sir George, 68.
Sonnets, evidence of, 47-49 ;

57, 58; date of, 87, 156;

personality in, 189, 190.
Sophocles, 184.
Sothern, Edward, 176.
Southampton, Earl of, 23,

47.

Southwell, T., 166.
Spalding, William, 159.
Spenser, Edmund, 2, 16, 61,

178.
Spanish Tragedy, 99, 100, 106,

107.

Squire of Low Degree, 59.
St. Paul's, 7, 8, 90, 118, 159.
Stael, Madame de, 185.
Stage, typical Shakespearean,

illustration, 116.
Stationers' Company, 68, 135,

136.

Steevens, G., 151, 152.
Stowe, John, Annals, 63.
Strange 's men, 120.
Stratford, described, 4, 5;

Shakespeare at, 18-35.
Sturley, Abraham, 28.
Suckling, Sir John, 112, 168.
Supposoti, I, 58, 95.
Surrey, Earl of, 13.
Swan theater, 117, 119, 120.

Tables of metrical tests, 71,
72 ; of chronology of plays,
76 ; of quarto editions, 138,
139.

Tamburlaine, 98.

Taming of a Shrew, 161.

Taming of the Shrew, 51, 58, 60,
63, 80, 85, 141, 184.

Taylor, Joseph, 43, 130.

Tears of the Muses, 61.

Tempest, The, 53, 57, 64, 68, 73,
74, 83, 110, 114, 169, 189.

373

Tennyson, A, 190.
Terence, 51, 54, 93, 95, 96.
Terry, Ellen, 176.
Testament of Cressid, 60.
Theater, in Shoreditch, 117,

118, 119, 120.
Theatrum Poetarum, 38.
Theobald, L., 148, 149, 150,

162.

Theocritus, 96.
Thomas Lord Cromwell, 157,

158.

Thorpe, Thomas, 47.
Tieck, L., 183.
Timber, 46.
Timon of Athens, 56, 157,

169.
'Tis Pity She's a Whore,

112.
Titus Andronicus, 30, 51, 53,

54, 77, 100, 140, 157, 158,

169.

Tourgenieff, 194.
Tourneur, C., 107, 112.
TroiLus and Cressida, 56, 60,

82, 104, 114, 169.
Troilus and Cressida, (Chau-
cer's), 60.
Troublesome Reign of King

John, 161.
True Tragedy of Richard III,

100.
True Tragedy of Richard

Duke of York, 21, 161.
Tudor Shakespeare, 38 n, 154,

161.
Twelfth Night, 51, 56, 57, 58,

73, 80, 114, 120, 146, 174.
Two Gentlemen of Verona, 30,

58, 78, 98.

Two Italian Gentlemen, 95.
Two Noble Kinsmen, The, 34,

60, 110, 157, 159, 160, 162,

169.
Tyrwhitt, T., 152.

Udall, N., 95.
Ulrici, 180.
Upton, J., 150.

Venus and Adonis, 23, 29, 30,

53, 62, 87, 131.
Virgil, 53, 96.
Volpone, 33, 105.
Voltaire, 178, 184, 185.
Vortigem, 162.

Wagner, C., 152.
Walker, Henry, 26.
Walker, Sidney, 172.
Wallace, C. W., 26, 27.
Walton's Lives, 17.
Warburton, W., 150.
Ward, Rev. J., 40.
Ward, W. A., 172.
Warner, Mrs., 176.
Watson, Thomas, 61.
Webster, John, 31, 91, 104,

107, 109, 111, 112.
Weever, John, 30.
Whetstone, George, 58, 60, 63.
White Devil, 31, 107.
White, R. G., 153, 172.
Wieland, 183.
Wilhelm Meister, 183.
Wilson, Robert, 94.
Winchester, Bishop of, 7.
Winter's Tale, 62, 85, 110, 174.
Wise Woman of Hogsdon, 95.
Wolsey, life of, 17.
Woman Killed with Kindness,

105.

Wood, Anthony, 43.
Wordsworth, 191.
Worthies of England, 38.
Wright, W. A., 154, 172.
Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 13.
Wycherley, W., 111.

Yorkshire Tragedy, 128, 140 n,
157, 158, 159.

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