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depth and mystery. For this reason Matthew Arnold quotes in his criticism some Latin phrases as if of ultimate poetic perfection, and the men of Shakespeare's day used Latin quotations as if the words held peculiar virtue. As a rule, too, evil spirits paid little attention to adjurations unless couched in sonorous Latin. The Latin and Greek authors were regarded as a race apart from and above English writers. The rules for correctness and excellence were to be drawn from their practice, and there has been a tendency down to the last decade of the nineteenth century to deduce even grammatical rules for English speech from their writings, sometimes from the most rhetorical of Latin authors.

The rules which Aristotle deduced from an examination of Greek Tragedies were therefore regarded as laws for English tragedy. Shakespeare rarely pays any attention to these rules. Consequently, for a long time, down to the nineteenth century, he was considered 'irregular.' The attraction of his plays was admitted, indeed, it forced itself on men's attention every time a really competent actor personated one of his characters. The force, wit, and eloquence of detached passages could not be denied. This was attributed to inspiration, but his dramatic construction was considered all wrong because he did not regard the 'unities.' We shall see hereafter how, in spite of English good sense, this view recurs in the criticism of the eighteenth century.

The most important critical expressions of Shakespeare's contemporaries after his death are to be found in the eulogistic verses prefixed to the folio editions of the seventeenth century. The First Folio of 1623 Mr. Lee considers to have consisted of five hundred copies, judging from the number now existing. Even then doubtless many quarto pamphlets containing single

plays were in existence and could be procured by those desirous of reading the plays, and many of what are known as 'players' quartos,' published after the printing of the First Folio, in 1623. These last of course are of no authority in settling disputed points in the text, since they must be copies of earlier publications, and in printing them no particular attention was paid to correctness, certainly no effort was made for improvement. But the fact that only four editions for readers, amounting in all probably to not more than three thousand five hundred copies, were printed till the sixvolume edition of Rowe, in 1709, shows that outside of the public representations few persons could have had an opportunity of knowing the plays. The fact, too, that twenty-four years (1685-1709) elapsed between the printing of the Fourth Folio and the first popular edition shows that Shakespeare as an author was not accessible to the general public. During the entire seventeenth century fewer copies were sold than the present yearly demand. This fact would go to show that, for a considerable period, love for Shakespeare was confined to readers of some special powers of poetic appreciation. At the same time the number of times the plays were represented after the Restoration, from 1660 to 1709, shows that his hold on audiences was interrupted but briefly, and then not by change in taste, but by outside circumstances.

Samuel Pepys, whose diary runs from 1660 to 1669, was present at the representation of twelve plays of Shakespeare. He saw Hamlet four times and The Tempest and Macbeth many times. As his diary was in shorthand and in no way addressed to the public, it is absolutely unbiased. Furthermore, as he was a man destitute of poetic insight, his criticisms are valuable as representing the views of the average playgoer, and

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will be referred to hereafter. For the present we note that the acting qualities of the plays insured their continuous public presentation, even when it was hard to buy the book of the play.' The literary critics were in time forced to recognize them, and after a century or so discovered their great literary qualities and began reluctantly to admit that the 'rules' were not of absolute validity.

The eulogistic verses in the folios must of course be interpreted as obituary notices, in which praise is awarded without much discrimination. Prefixed to editions of the plays they do not refer to the back or second, that might hold if this should blast in proof,'

the claim to the title of poet based on the poems and sonnets. But Ben Jonson's verses have a hearty ring, and his conviction that Shakespeare was a great poet shines through the exaggerated language of post-mortem encomium. He says,

Triumph, my Britain! thou hast one to show
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.

Although the verses are so familiar, it is as well to transcribe them, as the first authoritative statement of Shakespeare's greatness.

COMMENDATORY VERSES

PREFIXED TO THE FOLIO OF 1623

To the memory of my beloved, the Author, Master WILLIAM
SHAKESPEARE, and what he hath left us.

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
While I confess thy writings to be such

As neither man nor Muse can praise too much :
'T is true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;

For silliest ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
And think to ruin where it seem'd to raise :
These are as some infamous bawd or whore
Should praise a matron: what could hurt her more?
But thou art proof against them; and, indeed,
Above th' ill fortune of them or the need.
I, therefore, will begin: Soul of the age,
Th' applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room:
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still, while thy book doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses,
I mean, with great but disproportion'd Muses;
For, if I thought my judgment were of years,
I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine,
Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line:
And, though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
From thence to honour thee I would not seek
For names; but call forth thundering Æschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to us,

Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova, dead,

To life again, to hear thy buskin tread

And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on,
Leave thee alone for the comparison

Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Triumph, my Britain! thou hast one to show,
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 warm
Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm.
Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines ;
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As since she will vouchsafe no other wit:
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;
But antiquated and deserted lie,

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As they were not of Nature's family.
Yet must I not give Nature all; thy art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part:
For, though the poet's matter Nature be,
His art doth give the fashion; and that he
Who casts to write a living line must sweat,

Such as thine are, — and strike the second heat

-

Upon the Muses' anvil; turn the same,

And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;
Or, for the laurel, he may gain a scorn,

For a good poet 's made, as well as born:

And such wert thou. - Look how the father's face

Lives in his issue; even so the race

Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines
In his well-turned and true-filed lines;

In each of which he seems to shake a lance,

As brandish'd at the eyes of ignorance.

Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were

To see thee in our waters yet appear,

And make those flights upon the banks of Thames
That so did take Eliza and our James !

But stay; I see thee in the hemisphere
Advanced, and made a constellation there:
Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage
Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage;

Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like

night,

And despairs day, but for thy volume's light.

BEN JONSON.

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