_What meanes this numerous Guard? or do we come To file our Names or Verse upon the Tombe Of_ Fletcher, _and by boldly making knowne His Wit, betray the Nothing of our Owne? For if we grant him dead, it is as true Against our selves, No Wit, no Poet now; Or if he be returnd from his coole shade, To us, this Booke his Resurrection's made, We bleed our selves to death, and but contrive By our owne Epitaphs to shew him alive. But let him live and let me prophesie, As I goe Swan-like out, Our Peace is nigh; A Balme unto the wounded Age I sing. And nothing now is wanting but the King._ JA. SHIRLEY. _THE STATIONER._ As after th' _Epilogue_ there comes some one To tell _Spectators_ what shall next be shown; So here, am I; but though I've toyld and vext, 'Cannot devise what to present 'ye next; For, since ye saw no _Playes_ this Cloudy weather, Here we have brought Ye our whole Stock together. 'Tis new and all these _Gentlemen_ attest Under their hands 'tis Right, and of the Best; _Thirty foure_ Witnesses (without my taske) Y'have just so many _Playes_ (besides a _Maske_) All good (I'me told) as have been _Read_ or _Playd_, If this Booke faile, tis time to quit the Trade. _H. MOSELEY_. POST[S]CRIPT. We forgot to tell the _Reader_, that some _Prologues_ and _Epilogues_ (here inserted) were not written by the _Authours_ of this _Volume_; but made by others on the _Revivall_ of severall _Playes_. After the _Comedies_ and _Tragedies_ were wrought off, we were forced (for expedition) to send the _Gentlemens_ Verses to severall Printers, which was the occasion of their different Character; but the _Worke_ it selfe is one continued Letter, which (though very legible) is none of the biggest, because (as much as possible) we would lessen the Bulke of the Volume. A CATALOGUE of all the Comedies and Tragedies Contained in this Booke.