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so to be and remain to the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh sons of her body lawfully issuing, one after another; and to the heirs-males of the bodies of the said fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh sons lawfully issuing, in such manner as it is before limited to be and remain to the first, second, and third sons of her body, and to their heirs-males; and for default of such issue, the said premises to be and remain to my said niece, Hall, and the heirs-males of her body lawfully issuing; and for default of such issue, to my daughter, Judith, and the heirs-males of her body lawfully issuing; and for default of such issue, to the right heirs of me the said William Shakspere for ever.

Item, I give unto my wife my second best bed with the furniture.

Item, I give and bequeath to my said daughter, Judith, my broad silver-gilt bowl. All the rest of my goods, chattels, leases, plate, jewels, and household stuff whatsoever, after my debts and legacies paid, and my funeral expenses discharged, I give, devise, and bequeath to my son-in-law, John Hall, Gent., and my daughter, Susanna, his wife, whom I ordain and make executors of this my last will and testament. And I do entreat and appoint the said Thomas Russell, Esq., and Francis Collyns, Gent., to be overseers hereof. And do revoke all former wills, and publish this to be my last will and testament. In witness whereof, I have hereunto put my hand, the day and year first above written.

Witness to the publishing hereof,

FRANCIS COLLYNS,

JULIUS SHAW,

JOHN ROBINSON,

HAMNET SADLER,

By me,

WILLIAM SHAKSPERE.

ROBERT WHATCOTT.

Probatum fuit testamentum suprascriptum apul London, coram Magistro William Byrde, Legum Doctore, &c., vicesimo secundo die mensis Junii, Anno Domini, 1816, juramento Johannis Hall unius ex. cui. &c, de bene, &., jural reservata potestate, &c., Susanne Hall, alt. ex., &c, eam cum venerit, &c., petitur, &c.

COMMENDATORY VERSES

ON

SHAKSPERE.

AN EPITAPH

ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET,

WILLIAM SHAKSPERE.

What needs my Shakspere for his honoured bones,
The labour of an age in piléd stones:
Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid
Under a star-y pointing pyramid ?

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,

What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou, in our wonder and astonishment,
Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst to th' shame of slow endeavouring art
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving,
And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
JOHN MILTON.

UPON THE

LINES AND LIFE OF THE FAMOUS SCENIC POET, MASTER WILLIAM SHAKSPERE.

Those hands which you so clapped, go now and wring, You Britons brave, for done are Shakspere's days, His days are done that made the dainty plays, Which made the globe of heaven and earth to ring: Dried is that vein, dried is the Thespian spring,

Turned all to tears; and Phoebus clouds his rays; That corpse, that coffin, now bestick those bays, Which crowned him Poet first, then Poets' king. 'f tragedies might any prologue have,

All those he made would scarce make one to this: Where fame, now that he gone is to the grave (Death's public tiring-house), the Nuntius is: For though his line of life went soon about, The life yet of his lines shall never out.

HUGH HOLLAND.

TO THE MEMORY OF THE DECEASED AUTHOR,
MASTER WILLIAM SHAKSPERE.

Shakspere, at length thy pious fellows give
The world thy works; thy works, by which outlive
Thy tomb, thy name must; when that stone is rent,
And time dissolves thy Stratford monument,
Here we alive shall view thee still; this book,
When brass and marble fade, shall make thee look
Fresh to all ages; when posterity

Shall loath what's new, think all is prodigy
That is not Shakspere's, every line, each verse
Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy hearse.
Nor fire, nor cank'ring age,-as Naso said
Of his, thy wit-fraught book shall once invade :
Nor shall I e'er believe or think thee dead,
Though missed, until our bankrout stage be sped
(Impossible) with some new strain to out-do
Passions "of Juliet, and of Romeo;"

Or till I hear a scene more nobly take,
Than when thy half-sword parleying Romans spake :
Till these, till any of thy volume's rest,
Shall with more fire, more feeling be expressed,
Be sure, our Shakspere, thou canst never die,
But crowned with laurel, live eternally.

L. DIGGES.

ON THE PORTRAIT OF SHAKSPERE. Prefixed as a Frontispiece to the first edition of his Works in folio, 1653. TO THE READER.

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakspere cut,
Wherein the graver had a strife
With nature, to outdo the life:

O could he but have drawn his wit

As well in brass, as he has hit

His face; the print would then surpass
All that was ever writ in brass:
But since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book.
BEN JONSON.

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Master. Good: Speak to the mariners fall to't yarely, or we run ourselves aground; bestir, bestir. [Exit.

Enter Mariners.

Boats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, cheerly, my hearts; yare, yare: Take in the topsail; "Tend to the master's whistle.-Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others.

Alon. Good Boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play the men.

Boats. I pray now, keep below.

Ant. Where is the master, Boatswain?

Boats. Do you not hear him?

You mar our

labour; keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. Gon. Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the sea is. Hence! these roarers for the name of king? silence: trouble us not.

What care To cabin:

Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in you cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerily, good hearts.-Out of our way, I say.

[Exit.

Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging! make the rope of his

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