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The ballad, however, must have made some noise at | sufficient to give celebrity to the founder of a new Sir Thomas's expense, as the author took care it should stage. It may be added, that his uncommon merit, be affixed to his park-gates, and liberally circulated his candor, and good-nature, are supposed to have among his neighbors.
procured him the admiration and acquaintance of On his arrival in London, which was probably in every person distinguished for such qualities. It is 1586, when he was twenty-two years old, he is said to not difficult, indeed, to suppose, that Shakespeare was have made his first acquaintance in the play-house, to a man of humor, and a social companion, and probawhich idleness or taste may bave directed him, and bly excelled in that species of minor wit not ill adapted where his necessities, if tradition may be credited, to conversation, of which it could have been wished obliged him to accept the office of call-boy, or prompt- he had been more sparing in his writings. er's attendant. This is a menial whose employment
How long he acted has not been discovered, but he it is to give the performers notice to be ready to enter, continued to write till the year 1614. During his as often as the business of the play requires their dramatic career he acquired a property in the theatre, appearance on the stage.
which he must have disposed of when he retired, as But in whatever situation he was first employed at no mention of it occurs in his will. His connection the theatre, he appears to have soon discovered those with Ben Jonson has been variously related. It is said,
that when Jonson was unknown to the world, he offered talents which afterwards made him
a play to the theatre, which was rejected after a very Th’ applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! Some distinction he probably first acquired as an
careless perusal, but that Shakespeare having acciactor, although Mr. Rowe has not been able to dis- dentally cast his eye on it, conceived a favorable opin
lion of it, and afterwards recommended Jonson and his cover any character in which he appeared to more advantage than that of the ghost in Hamlet. The in- writings to the public. For this candor he was repaid structions given to the player in that tragedy, and / by Jonson, when the latter became a poet of note, with other passages of his works, show an intimate ac
an envious disrespect. quaintance with the skill of acting, and such as is
The latter part of Shakespeare's life was spent in
case, retirement, and the conversation' of his friends. scarcely surpassed in our own days. He appears to have studied nature in acting as much as in writing.
He had accumulated considerable property, which GilMr. Rowe regrets that he cannot inform us which don stated to amount to £300 per annum, a sum at least was the first play he wrote. More skilful research
equal to £1000 in our days; but Mr. Malone doubts has since found, that Romeo and Juliet, and Rich- £200 per annum, which yet was a considerable fortune
whether all his property amounted to much more than ard II and III were printed in 1597, when he was in those times, and it is supposed that he might have thirty-three years old; there is also some reason to derived £200 per annum from the theatre while he think that he commenced as a dramatic writer in 1592, continued on the stage. and Mr. Malope even places his first play, “ First part of Henry VI,” in 1589. His plays, however, must in Stratford, built by Sir Hugh Clopton, a younger
He retired some years before his death to a house have been not only popular, but approved by persons brother of an ancient family in that neighborhood. of the higher order, as we are certain that he enjoyed the principal estate had been sold out of the Clopton the gracious favor of Queen Elizabeth, who was very family for abɔve a century, at the time when Shakefond of the stage: and the particular and affectionate patronage of the Earl of Southampton, to whom he speare became the purchaser ; who having repaired dedicated his poems of “Venus and Adonis," and his and modelled it to his own mind, changed the name to “Tarquin and Lucrece.” On Sir William Davenant's New Place, which the mansion-house, afterwards erectauthority, it bas been asserted, that this nobleman at ed in the room of the poet's house, retained for many one time gave him a thousand pounds to enable him to years. The house and lands belonging to it continued complete a purchase. At the conclusion of the adver- in the possession of Shakespeare's descendants to the tisement prefixed to Lintot's edition of Shakespeare's time of the Restoration, when they were re purchased poems, it is said, “That most learned prince, and by the Clopton family. Here, in May, 1742, when Mr. great patron of learning, King James the First, was Garrick, Mr. Macklin, and Mr. Delane, visited Stratford, pleased, with his own hand, to write an amicable let- they were hospitably entertained under Shakespeare's ter to Mr. Shakespeare; which letter, though now lost, mulberry-tree by Sir Hugh Clopton. His executor, remained long in the hands of Sir William D'Avenant, about the year 1752, sold New Place to the Rev. Mr. as a credible person now living can testify.” Dr. Gastrell, a man of large fortune, who resided in it but Farmer with great probability supposes, that this let- a few years, in consequence of a disagreement with ter was written by King James, in return for the com- the inhabitants of Stratford. As he resided part of pliment paid to him in Macbeth. The relater of this the year at Litchfield, he thought he was assessed too anecdote was Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. These highly in the monthly rate towards the maintenance brief notices, meagre as they are, may show that our of the poor; but being very properly compelled by author enjoyed high favor in his day. Whatever we the magistrates of Stratford to pay the whole of what may think of King James as a “learned prince," bis was levied on him, on the principle that this house was patronage, as well as that of his predecessor, was occupied by his servants in his absence, be peevighly
To digo T-E Dust Enclo Ased HERE
declared that that house should never be assessed | Earl of Burlington, Dr. Mead, Mr. Pope, and Mr. again; and soon afterwards pulled it down, sold the Martyn. It was the work of Scheemaker, (who rematerials, and left the town. He had some time before ceived £300 for it,) after a design of Kent, and was cut down Shakespeare's mulberry-tree, to save himself opened in January of that year. The performers of the trouble of showing it to those whose admiration of each of the London theatres gave a benefit to defray our great poet led them to visit the classic ground on the expenses, and the Dean and Chapter of Westminsvybieh it stood. That Shakespeare planted this tree ter took nothing for the ground. The money received appears to be sufficiently authenticated. Where New by the performers at Drury Lane theatre amounted to Piace stood is now a garden.
above £200, but the receipts at the Covent Garden During Shakespeare's abode in this house, his plea- did not exceed £100. surable wit, and good-nature, engaged him the ac- From these imperfect notices, which are all we have quaintance, and entitled him to the friendship, of the been able to collect from the labors of his biographers gentlemen of the neighborhood. Shakespeare, during and commentators, our readers will perceive that less his retirement, wrote the play of Twelfth Night. is known of Shakespeare than of almost any writer who
He died on his birthday, Tuesday, April 23, 1616, has been considered as an object of laırdable curiosity. when he bad exactly completed his fifty-second year, Nothing could be more highly gratifying than an acand was buried on the north side of the chancel, in Lcount of the early studies of this wonderful man, the the great church at Stratford, where a' monument is placed in the wall, on which he is represented under progress of his pen, his moral and social qualities, his
friendships, his failings, and whatever else constitutes an arch, in a sitting posture, a cushion spread before
personal history. him, with a pen in his right hand, and his left rested
Unfortunately, we know as little of his writings is on a scroll of paper.
of his personal history. The industry of his illustraOn his grave-stone, underneath, are these lines, in tors for the last thirty years has been such, as probaan uncouth mixture of small and capital letters :
bly never was surpassed in the annals of literary inGood Friend for Iesus SAKE forbear
vestigation; yet so far are we from information of the
conclusive or satisfactory kind, that even the order in Blese le T-E Man spares T-Es Stones
which his plays were written, rests principally on And curst be le moves my Bones.
conjecture, and of some plays usually printed among It is uncertain whether this request and imprecation his works, it is not yet determined whether he wrote were written by Shakespeare, or by one of his friends. the whole, or any part. They probably allude to the custom of removing skele- With respect to himself, it does not appear that he tons after a certain time, and depositing them in printed any one of his plays, and only eleven of them charnel-houses ; and similar execrations are found in were printed in his lifetime. The reason assigned for many ancient Latin epitaphs.
this is, that he wrote them for a particular theatre, We have no account of the malıdy which, at no sold them to the managers when only an actor, retery advanced age, closed the life and labors of this served them in manuscript when himself a manager, gorivalled and incomparable genius.
and when he disposed of his property in the theatre, The only notice we have of his person is from Au- they were still preserved in manuscript to prevent brey, who says, "he was a handsome well-shaped their being acted by the rival houses. man;" and adds, “verie good company, and of a verie Shakespeare died in 1616; and seven years afterready, and pleasant and smooth wit.”
wards appeared the first edition of his plays, pubHis family consisted of two daughters, and a son lished at the charges of four booksellers,—& circumnamed Hamnet, who died in 1596, in the twelfth year stance from which Mr. Malone infers, " that no single of his age. Susannah, the eldest daughter, and her publisher was at that time willing to risk his money father's favorite, was married to Dr. John Hall, died on a complete collection of our author's plays." This July 11, 1649, aged sixty-six. They left only one child, edition was printed from the copies in the hands of Elizabeth, born 1607-8, and married April 22, 1626, his fellow-managers, Heminge and Condell, which had to Thomas Nashe, Esq., who died in 1647; and after- been in a series of years frequently altered through Fards to Sir John Barnard, of Abington, in North- convenience, caprice, or ignorance. amptonshire; but died without issue by either hus- Of his Poems, it is perhaps necessary that some band. Judith, Shakespeare's youngest daughter, was notice should be taken, although they have never been married to a Mr. Thomas Quiney, and died February, favorites with the public, and have seldom been re1861–62, in her seventy-seventh year. By Mr. Quiney printed with his plays. Shortly after his death, a she had three sons, Shakespeare, Richard, and Thomas, .very incorrect impression of them was issued, which who all died unmarried,
in every subsequent edition was implicitly followed, In the year 1741, a monument was erected to our until Mr. Malone published a corrected edition in 1780 poet in Westminster Abbey, by the direction of the with illustrations, &c.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Alonso, King of Naples.
STEPHANO, a drunken Butler. SEBASTIAN, his Brother.
Master of a Ship, Boatswain, Mariners. PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan.
MIRANDA, Daughter to Prospero.
ARIEL, an airy Spirit.
Other Spirits attending on Prospero.
his hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, SCENE I.-On a Ship at Sea.
for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard.' to be hanged, our case is miserable. (Exeun. Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain, as on ship-board,
Re-enter Boatswain. shaking off wet.
Boats. Down with the top-mast : yare; lower, lower Master. Boatswain !
Bring her to try with main-course. (A cry within./ Buits. Here, master : what cheer ?
A plague upon this howling ! they are louder than the Mist. Good. Speak to the mariners: fall to't yarely,' weather, or our office.of we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. (Exit. Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO. Enter Mariners.
Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er, and Buts. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my drown ? Have you a mind to sink? hearts! yare yare. Take in the topsail; tend to the Seb. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
? master's whistle.—Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if incharitable dog ! room enough!
Boats. Work you, then. Ester Alonzo, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GON- Ant. Hang, cur, hang ! you whoreson, insolent noiseZALO, and Others, from the Cabin.s
maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. Alon. Good boatswain, have a care. Where's the Gon. I'll warrant him for drowning; though the master? Play the men.
ship were no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as Buuts. I pray now, keep below.
an unstanched wench. Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ?
Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold. Set her two courses: Brats. Do you not hear him ? You mar our labour. off to sea again; lay her off. karp your cabins: you do assist the storm.
Enter Mariners, wet. Gm. Ney, good, be patient.
Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost ! (Er. aits. When the sea is. Hence! What care these Boats. What! must our mouths be cold ? [them. marers for the name of king? To cabin: silence ! Gon. The king and prince at prayers ! let us assist able us not.
For our case is as theirs. Gm. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Seb. I am out of patience. Balts. None that I more love than myself. You Ant. We are merely? cheated of our lives by drunk. Are a counsellor: if you can command these elements ards. w Elence, and work the peace of the present, we will This wide-chapp'd rascal,-would, thou might'st lie hot hand a rope more; use your authority: if you drowning, carmt, give thanks you have lived so long, and make The washing of ten tides ! ourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the Gon.
He'll be hanged yet, fr, i it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts Out of our Though every drop of water swear against it, prip, I say.
(Exit. And gape at wid'st to glut him. (A confused noise Gm. I have great comfort from this fellow : me- within.] Mercy on us !thinks, he hath no drowning mark upon him; his com- We split, we split-Farewell, my wife and children ! plexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to Farewell, brother !-We split, we split, we split!
* As on ship-board, eto. : not in f.e. Nimbly.
6 from the cabin : 201 6 and : in f. e.
Porrar editions : the sea with a ship. * heard : not in f. e. biela: not in Le. ? Absolutely.
Ant. Let's all sink with the king.
(Exit. That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else Seb. Let's take leave of him.
(Exit. In the dark backward and abysm of time ? Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here, for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, How thou cam’st here, thou may'st. any thing. The wills above be done! but I would Mira.
But that I do not, fain die a dry death.
(Exit. Pro. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since SCENE II.—The Island : before the cell of PROSPERO. Thy father was the duke of Milan, and
A prince of power.
Sir, are not you my father? Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you have Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
She said—thou wast my daughter; and thy father The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, Was duke of Milan, thou his only heir But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's heat,' And princess, no worse issued. Dashes the fire out. O! I have suffer'd
O, the heavens ! With those that I saw suffer : a brave vessel, What foul play had we, that we came from thence ? Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, Or blessed was't, we did ? Dash'd ali to pieces. 0! the cry did knock
Both, both, my girl : Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd. By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav'd thence : Had I been any god of power, I would
But blessedly holp hither. Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
0! my heart bleeds It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and To think o' the teen' that I have turn'd you to, The fraughting souls within her.
Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther Pro.
Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call’d Antonio No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart, I pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should There's no harm done.
Be so perfidious !-he whom, next thyself, Mira.
O, woe the day! Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put Pro.
No harm. The manage of my state; as, at that time,
Through all the signiories it was the first,
Without a parallel : those being all my study,
The government I cast upon my brother, And thy no greater father.
And to my state grew stranger, being transported Mira. More to know
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncleDid never meddle with my thoughts.
Dost thou attend me ?
Sir, most heedfully.
Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, And pluck my magic garment from me.--So : How to deny them, whom t'advance, and whom
(Lays down his robe. To trash® for over-topping, new created Lie there my art.-Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd them The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd Or else new form’d them; having both the key The very virtue of compassion in thee,
Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state I have with such previsioni in mine art
To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was So safely order'd, that there is no soul
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, No, not so much perdition as an hair,
And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not Betid to any creature in the vessel
Mira. O good sir! I do. Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit Pro.
I pray thee, mark me. down;
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated For thou must now know farther.
To closeness, and the bettering of my mind Mira.
You have often With that, which but by being so retired Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp’d,
O’er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Awak'd an evil nature : and my trust, Concluding, “ Stay, not yet."
Like a good parent, did beget of him Pro.
The hour's now come, A falsehood, in its contrary as great The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
As my trust was ; which had, indeed, no limit,
Who having to untruth."' by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution, Hath kept with thy remembrance.
And executing th' outward face of royalty, Mira.
'Tis far off ;
With all prerogative:-hence his ambition And rather like a dream, than an assurance
Growing-Dost thou hear ? That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Your tale, sir, would cure deafnees Four or five women once, that tended me ?
Pro. To have no screen between this part he play'd, Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. Bui how is it, And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
1 cheek: in f. e. > creature : in f. e. 3 mantlo : in f. e. • provision : inf. e. Not in f. e. ng term, signifying to beat back. See Othello, II., 1. lorded : in f. e. 10 unto truth: in f. e.