'Of golden wire, each line of silk; there run
Italian works whose thread the sisters spun;
And there did sing, or seem to sing, the choice
Birds of a foreign note and various voice.
Here hangs a mossy rock; there plays a fair
But chiding fountain purled: not the air,
Nor clouds, nor thunder, but were living drawn,
Not out of common tiffany or lawn,
But fine materials, which the Muses know,
And only know the countries where they grow.

But if the passage which we have previously quoted from "The Poetaster" be, as Gifford so plausibly imagined, intended for Shakspere, it is decisive as to Jonson's own opinion of his great friend's acquirements: it is the opinion of every man, now, who is not a slave to the authority of the smallest minds that ever undertook to measure the vast poetical region of Shakspere with their little tape, inch by inch :—

"His learning savours not the school-like gloss That most consists in echoing words and terms, And soonest wins a man an empty name."

The verses of Jonson, prefixed to the folio of 1623, conclude with these remarkable lines: :

"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."

* Commendatory Verses, " On Worthy Master Shaks. pere and his Poems," by I. M. S.

From 1616, the year of Shakspere's death, to 1623, the date of the first edition of his collected works, Jonson himself had written nothing for the stage. Beaumont had died the year before Shakspere; but Fletcher alone was sustaining the high reputation which he had won with his accomplished associate. Massinger had been in London from 1606, known certainly to have written in conjunction with other dramatists before the period of Shakspere's death, and, without doubt, assisting to fill the void which he had left, for "The Bondman appears in the list of the Master of the Revels in 1623. The indefatigable Thomas Heywood was a writer for the stage from the commencement of the seventeenth century to the suppression of the theatres. Webster was a poet of Shakspere's own theatre, immediately after his death, and a leading character in "The Duchess of Malfi" was played by Burbage. Rowley produced some of his best works at the same period. Chapman had not ceased to write. Ford was known as a rising poet. Many others were there of genius and learning who at this particular time were struggling for the honours of the drama, and some with great success. And yet Jonson does not hesitate to say, that since the death of Shakspere the stage mourns like night. Leonard Digges, writing at the date of the publication of the folio, says of Shakspere's dramas,—

"Happy verse, thou shalt be sung and heard,
When hungry quills shall be such honour barr'd.
Then vanish, upstart writers to each stage,
You needy poetasters of this age!"

This man speaks authoritatively, because he speaks the public voice. But it is not with the poetasters only that he compares the popularity of Shakspere; he tells us that the players of the Globe live by him dead; and that prime judgments, rich veins,

"have far'd

The worst with this deceased man compar'd;"

and he then proceeds to exhibit the precise character of the popular admiration of Shakspere :—

"So have I seen, when Cæsar would appear,
And on the stage at half-sword parley were
Brutus and Cassius, O, how the audience

Were ravish'd! with what wonder they went thence!
When, some new day, they would not brook a line
Of tedious, though well-labour'd, Catiline;

Sejanus too was irksome: they priz'd more
'Honest' Iago, or the jealous Moor.

And though the Fox and subtle Alchymist,

Long intermitted, could not long be miss'd,

Though these have sham'd all th' ancients, and might raise

Their author's merit with a crown of bays,

Yet these sometimes, even at a friend's desire
Acted, have scarce defray'd the sea-coal fire
And door-keepers: when, let but Falstaff come,

Hal, Poins, the rest, you scarce shall have a room,
All is so pester'd: Let but Beatrice

And Benedict be seen, lo! in a trice

The cockpit, galleries, boxes, all are full,

To hear Malvolio, that cross-garter'd gull.

Brief, there is nothing in his wit-fraught book,

Whose sound we would not hear, on whose worth lock: Like old-coin'd gold, whose lines in every page

Shall pass true current to succeeding age."

We have said enough, we think, to show how inconsiderate is the assertion, that Shakspere's "pre-eminence was not acknowledged by his contemporaries." Should this fact, however, be still thought to be a matter of opinion, we will place the opinion of a real critic, not the less sound for being an enthusiastic admirer, against this echo of the babble of the cold and arrogant school of criticism that still has its disciples and its imitators: "Clothed in radiant armour, and authorised by titles sure and manifold as a poet, Shakspere came forward to demand the throne of fame, as the dramatic poet of England. His excellences compelled even his contemporaries to seat him on that throne, although there were giants in those days contending for the same honour.

CHAPTER II.

"SHAKESPEAR was not so much esteemed, even during his life, as we commonly suppose; and

* Coleridge's "Literary Remains," vol, ii. p. 53.

after his retirement from the stage he was all but forgotten.' So we read in an authority too mighty to enter upon evidence. The oblivion after his retirement and death is the true pendant to the neglect during his life. When did the oblivion begin? It could scarcely have existed when, in, 1623, an expensive folio volume of many hundred pages was published, without regard to the risk of such an undertaking — and it was a risk, indeed, if the author had been neglected and was forgotten. But the editors of the volume do not ask timidly for support of these neglected and forgotten works. They say to the reader, " Though you be a magistrate of wit, and sit on the stage at Blackfriars or the Cockpit, to arraign plays daily, know these plays have had their trial already, and stood out all appeals." Did the oblivion continue when, in 1682, a second edition of this large work was brought out? There was one man, certainly a young and ardent scholar who was not amongst the oblivious. John Milton was twenty-four years of age when these verses were published:

"AN EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET, W. SHAKESPEARE.

"What need my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones The labour of an age in piled stones,

Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid

Under a star-ypointing pyramid ?

* Life of Shakspere in "Lardner's Cyclopædia."”