His family consisted of two daughters, and a son named Hamnet, who died in 1596, in the twelfth year of his age. Susannah, the eldest daughter, and her father's favourite, was married, June 5, 1607, to Dr. John Hall, a physician, who died Nov. 1635, aged 60. Mrs. Hall died July 11, 1649, aged 66. They left only one child, Elizabeth, born 1607-8, and married April 22, 1626, to Thomas Nashe, Esq., who died in 1647, and afterwards to sir John Barnard, of Abingdon, in Northamptonshire, but died without issue by either husband. Judith, Shakspeare's youngest daughter, was married, February 10, 1615-16, to a Mr. Thomas Quiney, and died February 1661-62, in her 77th year. By Mr. Quiney she had three sons, Shakspeare, Richard, and Thomas, who all died unmarried, and here the descendants of our poet became extinct.

Sir Hugh Clopton, who was born, two years after the death of lady Barnard, which happened in 1669-70, related to Mr. Macklin, in 1742, an old tradition, that she had carried away with her from Stratford many of her grandfather's papers. On the death of sir John Barnard, Mr. Malone thought "these must have fallen " into the hands of Mr. Edward Bagley, lady Barnard's " executor, and if any descendant of that gentleman be " now living, in his custody they probably remain." But Mr. Malone, in his last edition, tacitly confesses, that he has been able to make no discovery of such descendant, or such papers.

To this account of Shakspeare's family we have now to add, that among Oldys's papers is another traditional story of our illustrious poet's having been the father of sir William Davenant. Oldys's relation is thus given :

"If tradition may be trusted, Shakspeare often "baited at the Crown Inn or Tavern in Oxford, in his " journey to and from London; the landlady was a " woman of great beauty and sprightly wit, and her " husband, Mr. John Davenant (afterwards mayor " of that city,) a grave melancholy man; who, as well " as his wife, used much to delight in Shakspeare's " pleasant company. Their son, young Will. Da"venant, (afterwards sir William,) was then a little " school-boy in the town, of about seven or eight years " old, and so fond also of Shakspeare, that whenever " he heard of his arrival, he would fly from school to " see him. One day an old townsman observing the

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boy running homeward almost out of breath, asked " him whither he was posting in that heat and hurry. "He answered, to see his god-father Shakspeare. "There's a good boy, said the other, but have a care " that you don't take God's name in vain. This story " Mr. Pope told me at the earl of Oxford's table, upon "occasion of some discourse which arose about Shak

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speare's monument, then newly erected in West"minster Abbey."

This story appears to have originated with Anthony Wood, and it has been thought a presumption of its being true, that, after careful examination, Mr. Thomas Warton was inclined to believe it. Mr. Steevens, however, treats it with the utmost contempt, but does not perhaps argue with his usual attention to experience when he brings sir William Davenant's " heavy, vulgar, " unmeaning face," as a proof that he could not be Shakspeare's son.

In the year 1741 a monument was erected to our poet in Westminster Abbey, by the direction of the earl of Burlington, Dr. Mead, Mr. Pope, and Mr. Martyn. It was the work of Scheemaker, (who received 300l. for it,) after a design of Kent, and was opened in January of that year, one hundred and twenty-five years after the death of him whom it commemorates, and whose genius appears to have been forgotten during almost the whole of that long period. The performers of each of the London theatres gave a benefit to defray the expences, and the dean and chapter of Westminster took

nothing for the ground. The money received by the performance at Drury-lane theatre amounted to above 200l., but the receipts at Covent-garden did not exceed 100l.

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 considered as an object of laudable curiosity. Nothing could be more highly gratifying than an account of the early studies of this wonderful man, the progress of his pen, his moral and social qualities, his friendships, his failings, and whatever else constitutes personal history. But on all these topics his contemporaries and his immediate successors have been equally silent, and if aught can be hereafter discovered, it must be by exploring sources which have hitherto escaped the anxious researches of those who have devoted their whole lives, and their most vigorous talents, to revive his memory and illustrate his writings. In the sketch we have given, if the dates of his birth and death be excepted, what is there on which the reader can depend, or for which, if he contend eagerly, he may not be involved in controversy, and perplexed with contradictory opinions and authorities?

It is usually said that the life of an author can be little else than a history of his works; but this opinion is liable to many exceptions. If an author, indeed, has passed his days in retirement, his life can afford little more variety than that of any other man who has lived in retirement; but if, as is generally the case with writers of great celebrity, he has acquired a pre-eminence over his contemporaries, if he has excited rival contentions, and defeated the attacks of criticism or of malignity, or if he has plunged into the controversies of his age, and performed the part either of a tyrant or a hero in literature, his history may be rendered as interesting as that of any other publick character. But whatever weight may be allowed to this remark, the decision will not be of much consequence in the case of Shakspeare. Unfortunately, we know as little of his writings as of his personal history. The industry of his illustrators for the last fifty years is such as, probably, never was surpassed in the annals of literary investigation; yet so far are we from information of the conclusive or satisfactory kind, that even the order in which his plays were written rests principally on conjecture, and of some plays usually printed among his works, it is not yet determined whether he wrote the whole or any part.

Much of our ignorance of every thing which it would be desirable to know respecting Shakspeare's works, must be imputed to the author himself. If we look merely at the state in which he left his productions, we should be apt to conclude, either that he was insensible of their value, or that while he was the greatest, he was at the same time the humblest dramatic writer the world ever produced: "that he thought his works unworthy " of posterity, that he levied no ideal tribute upon future " times, nor had any further prospect than that of present "popularity and present profit." And such an opinion, although it apparently partakes of the ease and looseness of conjecture, may not be far from probability. But before we allow it any higher merit, or attempt to decide upon the affection or indifference with which he reviewed his labours, it may be necessary to consider their precise nature, and certain circumstances in his situation which affected them; and, above all, we must take into our account the character and predominant occupations of the time in which he lived, and of that which followed his decease.

With respect to himself, it does not appear that he printed any one of his plays, and only eleven of them

Dr. Johnson's Preface.

were printed in his life-time. The reason assigned for this is, that he wrote them for a particular theatre, sold them to the managers when only an actor, reserved them in manuscript when himself a manager, and when he disposed of his property in the theatre, they were still preserved in manuscript to prevent their being acted by the rival houses. Copies of some of them appear to have beeen surreptitiously obtained, and published in a very incorrect state; but we may suppose that it was wiser in the author or managers to overlook this fraud, than to publish a correct edition, and so destroy the exclusive property they enjoyed. It is clear therefore that any publication of his plays by himself would have interfered, at first with his own interest, and afterwards with the interest of those to whom he made over his share in them. But even had this obstacle been removed, we are not sure that he would have gained much by publication. If he had no other copies but those belonging to the theatre, the business of correction for the press must have been a toil which we are afraid the taste of the publick at that time would have very poorly rewarded. We know not the exact portion of fame he enjoyed; it might be the highest which dramatick genius could confer, but dramatick genius was a new excellence, and not well understood. His claims were, probably, not heard beyond the jurisdiction of the master of the revels, certainly not much beyond the metropolis. When he died, the English publick was approaching to a period in which matters of higher moment were to engage attention, and in which his works were nearly buried in oblivion, and not for more than a century afterwards, ranked among the productions of which the nation had reason to be proud.

Such, however, was Shakspeare's reputation, that we are told his name was put to pieces which he never wrote, and that he felt himself too confident of popular favour to undeceive the publick. This was a singular resolution