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+ Baptisms, Marriages, and Burials of the Shake
speare family; transcribed from the Register-book of the Parish of Stratford upon Ayon, Warwick,
'TONE, daughter of John Shakspere, was baptized Sept. 15,
J 1558. Margaret, daughter of John Shakspere, was buried April 30,
1563. WILLIAM, son of John Shaksperė, was baptized April 26,
1564: Gilbert, son of John Shakspere, was baptized Oa. 13, 1566. 3 Jone, daughter of John Shakfpere, was baptized Apr. 15, 1569. Anne, daughter of Mr. John Shakfpere, was baptized Sept. 28,
1571. Richard, son of Mr. John Shakfpere, was baptized March 11,
1573 Anne, daughter of Mr.John Shakspere, was buried April 4, 1579. Edmund, son of Mr. John Shakfpere, was baptized May 3, 1580. Élizabcth, daughter of Anthony Shakspere, of Hampton, was
baptized Feb. 10, 1583. Susanna, daughter of WILLIAM SHAKSPERE, was baptized
May 26, 1583. 4 Samuel and Judith, fon and daughter of WILLIAM SHAKi SPERE; were baptized Feb. 2, 1584. John Shakfpere and Margery Roberts were married Nov. 25, • 1584. Margery, wife of John Shakspere, was buried O&. 29, 1587. Ursula, daughter of John Shakfpere, was baptized March 11,
1588. Thomas Greene, alias Shak pere, was buried March 6, 1589.
+ With this extract from the register of Stratford, I was favoured by the Hon. James Weft, efq. STE E VENS.
She married the ancestor of the Harts of Stratford. a Born April 23, 1564. 3' This seems to be a grandaughter of the first John. ' This Samuel, only son of the poet, died aged 12.
Baptisms, Marriages, Burials, &c. Humphrey, son of John Shakspere, was baptized May 24, 1590. Philip, son of John Shak[pere, was baptized Sept. 21, 1591. Samuel, son of WILLIAM SHAKSPERE, was buried Aug. 11,
1596. Mr. John Shakspere was buried Sept. 8, 1601.. .in * John Hall, gent. and Susanna Shakspere were married June 5,
Mary Shakspere, widow, was buried Sept. 9, 1608. .
Gilbert Shakspere, adolescens, was buried Feb. 3, 1611.
Richard Shakspere was buried Feb. 4, 1612.
| Thomas Queeny and 5 Judith Shakspere were married Feb. 10,
1616. WILLIAM SHAKŞPERE II, gentleman, was buried April 25,
1616. 6 Mrs. Shakfpere was buried Aug. 6, 1623. .
This gentleman was a physician : he married the poet's eldest daughter. Ş Judith was the poet's youngest daughter.
| As Shakespeare the poet married his wife from Shottery, á village near Stratford, possibly he might become poffeffor of a remarkable house there, as part of her portion ; and jointly with his wife convey it as part of their daughter Judith's portion to Thomas Queeny. It is certain that one Queeny, an eld crly gentleman, fold it to Harvey, efq; of Stockton, near Southam, Warwickshire, father of John Harvey Thurlby, efq; of Abington, near Northampton; and that the aforesaid Harvey fold it again to Samuel Tyler, ell; whose filters, as his heirs, now enjoy it.
Died the 23d. ' • The poet's widow,
.. Upon the Effigies of my worthy Friend, the Author Master WILLIAM SHAKE S PEARE,
and his Works,
Pectator, this life's shadow is ;-to fee
1 Tbe truer image, and a livelier be,
Turn reoder : but observe his comick vein,
Lough; and proceed next to a tragick strain,
Then weep : so, when thou find tiro contraries,
Two different pasions, from thy rapt scul rise,
Stay, (who alone effekt fuch wonders could)
Rare Shakespeare to the life thou dat behold. *.
To the Reader.
This figure, that thou here feeft put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut;
Wherein the graver had a firis?
With nature, to cut-do the life:
0, could be but have drawn bis wit :
As well in brass, es be baib bit
His face; the print would then furpass
All, thet was ever writ in brass :::
But, fince be cannot, reader, look
Not on his piciure, but bis book, .
With wind be but harus be baiben furpass
To the Memory of my Beloved, the Author Mr. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,
and what he hath left us.
To draw no envy, Shckespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book, and fame; . While I confess tky writings to be such, As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much ; 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. but these ways · TV'ere not the paiks I meant unto thy praise :
For seeliest ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
Or blind affe&tion, which doth ne'er cdvence
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 the ill fortune of them, or the need :
I, therefore, will begin :--Soul of the age,
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spencer; or bid Becumont 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 fo, my brain excuses;
I mean, with great but disproportion'd muses :
For, if I thought my judgment were of years,
I hould commit thee surely with thy peers;
And tell—how far thou didst our Lilly outshine,
Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow's mighty line.
And though thou hadīt small Latin, and less Greek,-
From thence to honour thee, I would not seek
For names; but call forth thundring Æschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles, to us,
Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova deod;
To live again, to bear thy buskin trend
And bake a stage : or, when thy focks were on,
Leave thee alone ; for the comparison
Of all, that infolent Greece, cr baughty Rome,
Sent forth, or fince did from their oshes come.
Triumph, my Britain ! thou hejt one to show,
To whom all scenes of Europe homoge 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 cars, or like a Mercury to charm.
Nature bérself was proud of his designs,
And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines;
Which were so richly Spun, and woven fo fil,
As, fince, je wiil vouchsafe no other wit :
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;
But antiquated and deserted lie,
As they were not of Nature's family.
Yet must I not give nature all; thy art,
My gentle Skaki speare, must enjoy a parti-
For, though the poet's matter nature be,
His art doth give the fashion : and that be,
Who casts to write a living line, muft sweat,
(Such as tbine are) and strike a second beat
Upon the Muses' anvil ; turn the famne,
( And bimself 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 tbcu: Look, how the father's face
Lives in bis illue; even so the race
Of Shakespeare's mind, and manners, brightly shines
In his well-torned and true-filed lines;
In each of which be seems to shake a lance,
#s brandisk'd at tbe eyes of ignorance.
Sweet swan of Avon, what a fight it were,
To see thee in our waters yet appear ;
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
That fo did take Eliza, and our James !
But fiziy; I see thee in the hemisphere
Advanc'd, 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, batb mourn'd like right,
And despairs day, but by thy volume's light!