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<\/figure>\n\n\n\nAs I read\nthrough the book, I noticed that before each play was a title page, marked by\nthe printer\u2019s seal: an image of a jaunty fellow lifting a feathery bird up to\nthe heavens. They say pets look like their owners, and that is very much the\ncase here, as the man\u2019s hair bears a striking resemblance to a dead seagull. Along\nwith this peculiar picture is the date of publication (1632) and place of publication:\nLondon! That\u2019s where my great-grandparents lived many years ago, back before Great\nBritain left the Galactic Union and took off into the sky, never to be seen\nagain. This page also tells us that the volume was printed by William Stansby,\nfor Edward Blount. In other words, Stansby did all the hard work and Blount took\nall the profits. Reminds me of my working relationship with the High Overlord. Not\nthat my work is particularly hard\u2026 or particularly work, come to think of it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The main title page states that these plays were \u201cOften Presented and Acted before Queene Elizabeth, by the Children of her Majesties Chapell, and the Children of Paules\u201d. I have simplified this text here for your convenience, as in the original many of the S\u2019s are elongated, so that they appear like F\u2019s. I can only assume that this must be because everyone back then spoke with a lisp. Also presented here is the author, \u201cthe only Rare Poet of that Time, The Wittie, Comicall, Facetiously Quicke, and unparalleld John Lilly, Master of Arts\u201d. I presume they ran out of space to add \u201cexceedingly modest\u201d to that list. There is also an undecipherable phrase in a strange language I cannot find any examples of in my database: \u201cDecles repetitia placebunt\u201d. Perhaps this is an example of a \u201cdead\u201d language, only studied and known by the erudite and wise (i.e. not me.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I continued to read through the book, my train of thought was suddenly halted by an introductory message to the reader, which for some reason had been placed directly in the middle of the book! At first I thought this was a mistake, but perhaps this is not the case after all. According to my research, those rich enough to purchase books (which were only moderately cheaper than visiting this library) could ask for custom bindings, allowing them to select their own cover for the book. Some of these binding services may also have allowed the customer to re-order the pages; perhaps the owner of this volume wished for Gallathea to come first in the order of plays and asked for the sections to be rearranged, hence the dedication to the reader being in the middle of the book rather than at the beginning. This would also explain why the signatures at the bottom of each page (which were designed to allow printers to fold the sheets correctly) are in the wrong order, starting with P instead of A. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The dedication to the reader is written by Edward Blount, the thieving capitalist who stole William Stansby\u2019s hard-earned cash via illicit methods such as \u201cbeing his boss\u201d and \u201cowning the printing company\u201d. In the dedication, Blount admits to more heinous crimes, such as grave robbery: \u201cI have (for the love I beare to Posteritie) dig\u2019d up the grave of a Rare and Excellent Poet\u201d, animal cruelty: \u201ca shame, such conceipted comedies, should be acted by none but wormes\u201d and most despicable of all, recycling: \u201cI have gathered the scattered branches and by a Charme (gotten from Apollo) made them greene again\u201d. Seeing such morally repugnant actions being encouraged made my skin crawl. I simply could not stand it. Therefore, with tears in my eyes, I threw the object which I had yearned for my entire life directly into the incinerator. Luckily, I had forgotten to switch the incinerator on, which was a relief when I changed my mind a few moments later, and rescued the book from its infernal fate, squeezing it tightly in my arms like a newborn baby (note: do not squeeze newborn babies too tightly unless you enjoy the feeling of milky vomit trickling down your shoulder). I decided not to scan the book into the database: it was too precious to share. I took it upstairs to my living quarters, and smiled at the witty writing, the masterful printing, and the funny long S things. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Message ends. This blog post will\nself-destruct in 3\u2026 2\u2026 1\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Lyly, John. Sixe Court Comedies\n(1632)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n By Patrick, Polly,\nZoe, Gabs, and Alex. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Archivist\u2019s Log \u2013 16th March 2382 I\u2019d heard the stories. We all had. But I never thought I\u2019d get to see one in person. A real book. Here at the Last Library, we are the proud owners of the world\u2019s largest \u2013 and only \u2013 digital literary archive. Ever since the Great Media Purge of … Continue reading Archivist’s Log, 2382 – Six Court Comedies<\/span> ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/shakespeare\/files\/2019\/10\/20191024_095729-1024x576.jpg\")
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