latter part of his life was spent in ease, retirement, 23, 1616, when he had exactly completed his and the conversation of his friends. He had accu- fifty-second year; and was buried on the north mulated considerable property, which Gildon (inside of the chancel, in the great church at Strathis Letters and Essays) stated to amount to 3001. per ann. a sum equal to 1000l. in our days. But Mr. Malone doubts whether all his property amounted to much more than 200l. per ann. which yet was a considerable fortune in those times; and it is supposed, that he might have derived 2001. annually from the theatre, while he continued to act. ford, where a monument is placed in the wall, on which he is represented under an arch, in a sitting posture, a cushion spread before him, with a pen in his right hand, and his left rested on a scroll of paper. The following Latin distich is engraved under the cushion: Judicio Pylium, genio Socratem, arte Maronem, Perhaps we should read Sophoclem, instead of Stay, passenger, why dost thou go so fast? He retired some years before his death to a house in Stratford, of which it has been thought important to give the history. It was built by Sir Hugh Clopton, a younger brother of an ancient family in that neighbourhood. Sir Hugh was sheriff of London in the reign of Richard III. and lord mayor in that of Henry VII. By his will he bequeathed to his elder brother's son his manor of Clopton, &c. and his house by the name of the Great House in Stratford. A good part of the estate was in possession of Edward Clopton, Esq. and Sir Hugh Clopton, Knt. in 1733. The principal estate had been sold out of the Clopton family for above a century, at the time when Shakspeare We have not any account of the malady which became the purchaser, who, having repaired and at no very advanced age, closed the life and lamodelled it to his own mind, changed the name to bours of this unrivalled and incomparable genius. New Place, which the mansion-house afterwards The only notice we have of his person is from erected, in the room of the poet's house, retained|| Aubrey, who says, 'He was a handsome wellfor many years. The house and lands belonging|| shaped man;' and adds, 'verie good company, to it continued in the possession of Shakspeare's and of a very ready and pleasant and smooth wit.' descendants to the time of the Restoration, when they were re-purchased by the Clopton family. Obiit ano. Dni. 1616, twelfth year of his age. His family consisted of two daughters, and a Here, in May 1742, when Mr. Garrick, Mr. Mack-son named Hamnet, who died in 1596, in the lin, and Mr. Delane, visited Stratford, they were Susannah, the eldest hospitably entertained under Shakspeare's mul- daughter, and her father's favourite, was married berry-tree, by Sir Hugh Clopton, who was a bar- to Dr. John Hall, a physician, who died Nov. rister, was knighted by George I. and died in the|| 1635, aged 60. Mrs. Hall died July 11, 1649, 80th year of his age, 1751. His executor, about aged 66. They left only one child, Elizabeth, the year 1752, sold New Place to the Rev. Mr. born 1607-8, and married April 22, 1626, to Gastrel, a man of large fortune, who resided in it Thomas Nashe, esq. who died in 1647; and afterbut a few years, in consequence of a disagreement wards to Sir John Barnard, of Abington in Northwith the inhabitants of Stratford. As he resided amptonshire, but died without issue by either huspart of the year at Lichfield, he thought he was band. Judith, Shakspeare's youngest daughter, assessed too highly in the monthly rate towards the was married to Mr. Thomas Quiney, and died maintenance of the poor, and being opposed, he||Feb. 1661-2, in her 77th year. By Mr. Quiney peevishly declared, that that house should never be assessed again; and soon afterwards pulled it down, sold the materials, and left the town. He had some time before cut down Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, to save himself the trouble of showing it to visitors. That Shakspeare planted this tree appears to be sufficiently authenticated. Where New Place stood is now a garden. During Shakspeare's abode in this house, he enjoyed the acquaintance and friendship of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood; and here he is thought to have written the play of Twelfth Night. He died on his birth-day, Tuesday, April she had three sons, Shakspeare, Richard, and Thomas, who all died unmarried. The traditional story of Shakspeare having been the father of Sir William Davenant, has been generally discredited. From these imperfect notices,* which are all we have been able to collect from the labours of his biographers and commentators, our readers will perceive that less is known of Shakspeare than of almost any writer who has been consider *The first regular attempt at a life of Shakspeare is prefixed to Mr. A. Chalmers's variorum edition, published in 1805, of which we have availed ourselves in the above Sketch. ed as an object of laudable curiosity. Nothing history. The industry of his illustrators for the could be more highly gratifying, than an account last forty years, has been such as probably never of the early studies of this wonderful man, the was surpassed in the annals of literary investigaprogress of his pen, his moral and social qualities, tion; yet so far are we from information of the his friendships, his failings, and whatever else con- conclusive or satisfactory kind, that even the order stitutes personal history. But on all these topics in which his plays were written rests principally his contemporaries, and his immediate successors, on conjecture, and of some of the plays usually have been equally silent; and if aught can here- printed among his works, it is not yet determined after be discovered, it must be by exploring whether he wrote the whole, or any part. We sources which have hitherto escaped the anxious are, however, indebted to the labours of his comresearches of those who have devoted their whole mentators, not only for much light thrown upon his lives, and their most vigorous talents, to revive his obscurities, but for a text purified from the gross memory, and illustrate his writings. blunders of preceding transcribers and editors; and it is almost unnecessary to add, that the text of the following volumes is that of the last corrected edition of Johnson and Steevens. It is equally unfortunate, that we know as little of the progress of his writings, as of his personal し Boats. Here, master: what cheer? Mast. Good: speak to the mariners: fall to't yarelyl, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. Enter Mariners. [Exit. fate, to his hanging! make the rope of his destiny Re-enter Boatswain. Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; lower, lower; bring her to try with main course. [A cry within.] A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather, or our office. Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo. Yet again? what do you here? Shall we give o'er, and drown? Have you a mind to sink? Seb. A pox your throat! you bawling, blasBoats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, cheerly, myphemous, uncharitable dog! hearts; yare, yare: take in the top-sail: tend to Boats. Work you, then. the master's whistle.-Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's leaky as an unstaunched3 wench. the master? Play the men. Boats. I pray now, keep below. Ant. Where is the master, boatswain? Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence: trouble us not. Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off to sea again, lay her off. Enter Mariners, wet. Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! Boats. What, must our mouths be cold? For our case is as theirs. Seb. I am out of patience. Ant. We are merely 4 cheated of our lives by This wide-chapped rascal;-'Would, thou might'st 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,2 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 your cabin for the mischance of the hour, it so hap.-Cheerly, good hearts.-Out of our way, I say. [Exit. Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow: me-[A confused noise within.] Mercy on us!-We thinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his split, we split !-Farewell, my wife and children!complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Farewell, brother!-We split, we split, we split.-- (1) Readily. (2) Present instant. (3) Incontinent. (4) Absolutely. Ant. Let's all sink with the king. [Exit. In the dark backward and abysm3 of time? Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, any thing: the wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exit. SCENE II.-The island: before the cell of Pro. Twelve years since, Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and Mira. Both, both, my girl: Mira. O, my heart bleeds I Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put And to my state grew stranger, being transported, Mira. Sir, most heedfully. Or else new form'd them: having both the key To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was I not: O good sir, I do. But what my power might else exact,-like one, Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. |