from the earliest editions; they took up the latest which they could find, and went smoothly on till they were stopped by some palpable error of the press. This, as the clown says, was meat and drink to them; they immediately set themselves to conjecture what the word should be, and after a little burst of vanity, at which it is impossible to forbear a smile, they turned, for the first time, to the old copy, and invited the public to witness their sagacity, and partake in their triumph. An example or two taken at random from Whalley will make this clear.

"Long may he round about him see

His roses and his lilies bloom!
Long may his only love and he

Joy in ideas of their own!"

"I have no objection to bloom, but only as it does not rhyme very exactly with own; I conjectured therefore that it should be blown; and found my conjecture authorized by the old folio.” - vol. vii. p. 16.

"Valor wins applause,

That dares but to mention the weaker cause."

"No great applause of valor can be due to any one merely for mentioning the weaker side. This led me to conjecture that maintain was the word designed by the poet, and upon consulting the first folio, I found it so to be!". vol. v. 297.

"Your fortress who hath bred you to this hour.

Fortress is an error. Mr. Sympson likewise saw the mistake, and ingeniously sent me fautress, which I should have made use of, had not the old folio prevented me, and read fostress!"

Whalley prefixed to his edition a Life of the author, not injudicious in the main, but composed in a style so uncouth and antiquated, that I could not prevail on myself to reprint it, though I have thought it my duty to make a few extracts from it, chiefly, however, for the purpose of correcting the mistakes into which the writer had been led by too implicit a reliance on his authorities.

The reception of this work was sufficiently favorable to encourage the author to undertake a revision of it preparatory to a second edition. I cannot discover, however, that any substantial improvement was meditated; none at least was introduced, and the text remained, in every instance, as it stood before. The bulk of the work, indeed, was materially increased by the admission of an immense farrago of parallel passages, taken, for the most part, from the numerous republications of Shakspeare, to which the last century had given birth. He did not proceed with this revision much beyond the comedies. Circumstances with which I am but imperfectly acquainted interrupted his literary pursuits, and this among the rest. It is said that the extravagance of a young wife involved him in pecuniary difficulties of a serious kind, and obliged him to leave his home. In this distress he was received into the house of Mr. Waldron, where he lay concealed for some time. When the place of his retreat was at length discovered, he took refuge in Flanders, where he died after a few months' residence; in the summer of 1791.

Under the hospitable roof of this worthy and amiable man, Whalley resumed the care of Jonson; but want of books, and, perhaps, of sufficient composure of mind, rendered his attempts ineffectual, and the manuscript was finally abandoned to his friend, who, in the year 1792, commenced the publication of it in numbers. The success apparently fell short of the expectations of the editor, as the work was not continued beyond the second number.

Mr. Waldron neither possessed, nor pretended to be possessed of, scholastic learning; but he was laborious, accurate, conversant with the stage, and imbued with a rational love of the ancient drama, which he had studied with success. He appears to have collated Whalley's copy with the early editions; and, on attentively retracing his steps, previously to the arrangement of the text for the present publication, I found much to approve in the caution and

1 Whalley's text was that of the booksellers' edition, in 8vo. This had been in Theobald's hands, and an incir ental emark by him, of no moment whatever, here and there appeared in the margin.

judgment with which he had uniformly proceeded. His friendship for Whalley, however, has led him to form far too high an estimate of that gentleman's qualifications; and beyond the revision which I have just mentioned, he seems to have contemplated no alteration of the papers left in his hands.

Many years had elapsed since the failure, last mentioned, when the republication of Jonson was proposed to me by Mr. George Nicol, to whom Whalley's corrected copy had been consigned by Mr. Waldron. I was well aware of the labor and difficulty of the task; but my objections were overcome by the encouragement of my friend, and I undertook the edition, confident that I was not about to encumber the public with a superfluous work, for Jonson had now been long out of the bookseller's hands. One motive there yet was, which had some influence on my determination a desire, though late, to render justice to the moral character of the author, and rescue him from the calumnies of his inveterate persecutors. My mind had been prejudiced at an early period by the commentators on our old dramas, and I verily believed, as they repeatedly assured me, that "the great object of Jonson's life was the persecution of Shakspeare;" nor was it until I became acquainted with the dates of his respective performances that I ventured to question the accuracy of the critics, or to entertain a suspicior. that they were actuated by unworthy motives, and could only be relieved from the charge of wanton malevolence by the plea of incorrigible folly.

Previously to the arrangement of the text, it became necessary to collate the old editions. In the execution of this part of the work, the mode adopted in the revision of Massinger was carefully followed. If the approbation of the public may be trusted, no change was required. Had any standard of orthoëpy obtained among our old writers, it might not be improper to preserve it; but to copy the vagaries of a careless press would be an affectation of accuracy at once impertinent and unprofitable. Our author appears, indeed, to affect a derivative mode of spelling; but his attention frequently relaxes, and the variations of his text are considerable. The first folio differs from the quarto, and the second folio from both. In general, writers trusted entirely to the printers, who, on their parts, piqued themselves but little on justifying this confidence. "I never (says the author of Father Hubbard's Tales) wished myself a better fortune than to fall into the hands of a true-spelling printer," and he was not so lucky. There seems no plausible reason for continuing to present Jonson alone to the public in the uncouth and antiquated garb of his age. The barbarous contractions, therefore, the syncopes and apocopes, which deformed the old folios, (for the quartos are remarkably free from them,) have been regulated, and in some cases removed, and the appearance of the poet's page assimilated, in a great degree, to that of his contemporaries, who spoke and wrote the same language as himself. Whalley, as has been just observed, though the modernized impressions of Shakspeare and others were before him, contented himself with simply reprinting the former text, with all its archaisms and anomalies; the same word was differently spelt in the same page, and sometimes in the same line; the pointing was seldom disturbed, the scenes were divided as the old books divided them, and not an exit or entrance was superadded; yet it could not have escaped him that no part of this arrangement made the slightest claim to uniformity, or even truth. In fact, the object of the old division would almost appear to be that of throwing every obstacle in the way of the reader, and making that which could in no case be easy, a matter of extreme difficulty. A certain number of the dramatis personæ are set down at long intervals; but no hint is given when they appear or disappear, individually, and much time has been expended in the obscure and humble labor of inserting a name which, after all, may not be found correctly placed. Jonson, probably, adopted this costive mode from the ancient drama; but it seems to have escaped him that the Greek and Roman stage seldom permitted more than four characters to be present at the same time; whereas he has frequently introduced (especially in his Catiline and Sejanus) double, and sometimes treble that number. The scenery, too, (by which nothing more is intended than the supposed place of action,) was every where ob. scure, and in the tragedies perplexed and involved above measure. Our author, like his contemporaries, seems, in these, to have taken advantage of the poverty of the stage, and the easy faith of the audience, to represent events in the same spot, which must, in fact, have occurred in different places. Be this as it may, an attempt has been made to specify the scene in every action; and it is necessary to entreat the indulgence of the public towards this first effort to

give a local habitation and a name to what before had neither. In this, I have consulted the east of the reader, who could scarcely be expected to turn the page forward and backward to ascertain the site of every event, especially as the difficulty occurs, for the most part, in those piacea which possess the fewest charms of sentiment, action, or language, to lure him on through doubt and obscurity to the point of elucidation. That the poet will be more read on this account, I dare not flatter myself; but I venture to hope that he will be comprehended with more facility; and, in this, I have already found my reward. Slight, however, as the effect may appear, it has not been produced without some pains; nor should I have been able to complete it entirely to my own satisfaction, or greatly to the advantage of the reader, had I not fortunately found in Mr. Thomas Turner (of Mr. Bulmer's office) a friend whose readiness to oblige was only equalled by his professional skill, and whose acquaintance with various parts of literature, far removed from the common track of reading, has been bencficially exerted through the course of this undertaking.

It appears from Mr. Whalley's correspondence, that his enlarged copy had been in the hands of Steevens, Reed, and Malone. What they took, or what they gave, I am unable to say; but my first care was to throw it all aside: my objection to an idle accumulation of examples upon every trite or indecorous expression is by no means weakened since the publication of Massinger, though I have been openly reproved for the nakedness of my pages, and the obstinate refusal to illustrate "after the manner of Mr. Collins," the admired colloquies of Hircius and Spungius! What I could find of utility in my predecessor's observations is retained, though with occasional variations of his language: my own notes have run to a greater length than was originally intended; but the ground was, in a manner, unbeaten. They are chiefly illustrative of obsolete phrases and customs, of personal and historical notices connected with the subject, together with such incidental touches on the character and conduct of the respective pieces as the occasion seemed to demand. There will also be found some explanatory remarks on the language of Shakspeare, a part of the work which should have been extended, (as there is nothing which I so much desire as to see him relieved from the ponderous ignorance of his commentators,) had I not once flattered myself that an opportunity might hereafter occur of serving him more effectually that daydream is passed; and I am left to regret that I was so chary of my observations.

There is little to add. Assuredly, I anticipated more gratification from the termination of this undertaking than I seem to experience. I cannot give pleasure where I once hoped to give it; and fame, or, if it must be so, vanity, appears, I know not how, in colors of less seductive brightness: the fairy vision has receded as I advanced; and the toilsome way is terminated amidst prospects of no cheering kind: I cannot conceal from myself how little has been done for an author of such exalted claims; nor how greatly I have fallen short of the justice which I once hoped to render to him. The work is now before the public. It is not exempt from errors, as will easily be discovered; and the origin of some of them may be found in the lights (all favorable to the poet) which have broken in upon me since its commencement; such as it is, however, it is given with a free and independent spirit. No difficulty has been evaded, no labor shunned: neither hopes nor fears of a personal nature have had the slightest influence upon the conduct of the undertaking; what has been strongly felt has been strongly expressed; and if, before the occasional warmth of my language be challenged, the violence and injustice which I have had to repel be examined, I shall not, in this instance at least, be alarmed at the result.

What remains is pleasure. The generosity by which I was enabled to furnish so correct a text of Massinger has accompanied me with a double portion of frankness on the present occasion. Every early edition of these dramas, and almost every copy, has been tendered to my use. Mr. Kemble, whose kindness is perpetual, opened his vast collection to me with

1 After explaining myself so fully, as I thought, on this subject, it is with pain that I find myself compelled to return to it. I should think no sacrifice on my part too great, if I could but convince the grovelling editors of our old dram. atists that the filth and obscenity which they so sedulously toil to explain is better understood by ninety-nine out of svery hundred readers than by themselves, and that the turpitude of corrupting the remaining one is a crime for which their ignorance offers no adequate excuse. A plodding, cold-blooded Aretine is despicable; a sprightly one is detest ble; and both are among the worst pests of society.

unbounded liberality. Mr. Waldron, who has taken the warmest interest in my success, not only supplied me with much valuable matter, collected from various sources during the long period that his attention was fixed on our author, but procured, from Mr. Parke and other gentlemen, notices of scattered poems, plays, &c., which have been used with advantage. Of my friend Octavius Gilchrist no particular mention is required here; his name will be found in various parts of these volumes, in connection with information that will always be received with satisfaction. The Rev. Mr. Bandinell has been already noticed; and I have now to add the name of Mr. Philip Bliss, who forwarded my researches at the Bodleian with all the alacrity of friendship; nor must I forget Mr. Petrie, to whose kindness I have been singularly obliged, and to whom I am indebted for the knowledge of many useful MSS. in our public repositories. I forbear to mention more but I should do violence to my own feelings, in closing this part of the work without adding that, if the reader has derived either amusement or information from the explanatory notes diffused over these volumes, it is to the unprecedented kindness of Richard Heber, Esq. that he is mainly indebted. The liberality with which this gentleman communicates the literary treasures of his extensive collection is too well known to be particularly insisted on here; but he has claims to my thankfulness which must not be passed in silence. To open his library to all my requests was not sufficient in his eyes; he therefore spontaneously furnished me with a number of rare and valuable pieces material to my success, and with several of which I was not acquainted even by name. In diligently availing myself of these aids, I have constantly borne in mind that I was making the return most pleasing to my generous friend, though scarcely full enough to satisfy myself.

I have yet to mention the very Reverend the Dean of Westminster. Avocations of a nature far removed from studies of this kind engross his leisure; yet no one acquainted with any publication of mine can require to be told that no part of the present work has passed the press without his anxious revision. But with what feelings do I trace the words—the Dean of Westminster! Five and forty springs have now passed over my head since I first found Dr. Ireland, some years my junior, in our little school, at his spelling book. During this long period, our friendship has been without a cloud — my delight in youth, my pride and consolation in age. I have followed, with an interest that few can feel and none can know, the progress of my friend from the humble state of a curate to the elevated situation which he has now reached, and in every successive change have seen, with inexpressible delight, his reputation and the wishes of the public precede his advancement. His piety, his learning, his conscientious discharge of his sacred duties, his unwearied zeal to promote the interests of all around him, will be the theme of other times and other pens: it is sufficient for my happiness to have witnessed, at the close of a career prolonged by Infinite Goodness far beyond my expectations, the friend and companion of my heart in that dignified place, which, while it renders his talents and his virtues more conspicuous, derives every advantage from their wider influence and exertion

ANCIENT COMMENDATORY VERSES

ON

JONSON.

ON SEJANUS.

So brings the wealth-contracting jeweller

Pearls and dear stones from richest stores and strcanis,

As thy accomplished travail doth confer

From skill enriched souls their wealthier gems;

So doth his hand enchase in ammeled gold,

Cut, and adorned beyond their native merits,

His solid flames, as thine hath here inrolled

In more than golden verse, those bettered spirits;

So he entreasures princes' cabinets,

As thy wealth will their wished libraries;

So, on the throat of the rude sea, he sets

His vent'rous foot, for his illustrious prize;

And through wild desarts, armed with wilder beasts;

As thou adventur'st on the multitude,

Upon the boggy, and engulfed breasts

Of hirelings, sworn to find most right, most rude:

And he, in storms at sea, doth not endure,

Nor in vast deserts amongst wolves, more danger;

Than we, that would with virtue live secure,
Sustain for her in every vice's anger.

Nor is this Allegory unjustly rackt

To this strange length: only, that jewels are,

In estimation merely, so exact:

And thy work, in itself, is dear and rare;
Wherein Minerva had been vanquished,

Had she, by it, her sacred looms advanced,

And through thy subject woven her graphic thread,
Contending therein, to be more entranced;
For, though thy hand was scarce addrest to draw
The semicircle of SEJANUS' life,

Thy muse yet makes it the whole sphere, and law
To all state-lives; and bounds ambition's strife,

And as a little brook creeps from his spring,

With shallow tremblings, through the lowest vales,

As if he feared his stream abroad to bring,

Lest prophane feet should wrong it, and rude gales:

But finding happy channels, and supplies

Of other fords mixt with his modest course,

He grows a goodly river, and descries

The strength that manned him, since he left his source;
Then takes he in delightsome meads and groves,

And. with his two-edged waters, flourishes