From INTRODUCTION. FIVE years ago I laid these following papers aside. I was then much broken in health and spirit. And I was overwhelmed by the solemn importance of the work, and bewildered and almost discouraged by the many inconsistencies with known or, rather, assumed facts or beliefs, and even, very often, with itself. Furthermore, doubts of various kinds — perhaps I should rather say subtle cross-questionings and wonderings — at times assailed me: but I had only to read some pages, almost at random, when doubt would vanish like mist before the sun. About six months ago I was strongly impelled to complete my obvious duty. At my age of seventy-two I cannot afford further delays or daring triflings with time. Yet I would fain have waited for further corroborations — personal, literary, topographical. I earnestly beg all who can help — particularly as regards the sermons, plays and books which Shakespeare brought to London — to communicate with me. I have for some months past occupied myself very perseveringly to verify and confirm, so far as possible, the statements of this momentous though broken and unrevised autobiography. I have been ably assisted, and I have had a certain success — not very much, but strangely remarkable. Not a word, however, have I added to my texts of 1905. In the course of those readings, searches, correspondence, etc., I, some months ago, for the first time encountered a legend or speculation that in the year 1910 some greater light would be thrown on this deathless subject. In so far as I am consciously concerned it is a simple coincidence or accident, as it is termed — quaintly interesting, but, in my view, not otherwise noteworthy. I now give this work to the world integrally, without a word of my own. Here and there, I had to supply an obviously dropped letter. I have omitted some draft playbills, and I have dealt discreetly with some words, and with some lines of confused repetition without any importance, and which would have necessitated inordinate notes to make clear. I have also fitted in, so to speak, two detached portions at what I thought was a suitable place, relating to the arrival and earlier life in London. Beyond these trifling and merely clerical points, and some punctuation, I have not altered, nor shaped, nor endeavoured to harmonise or reconcile with accepted versions, or to attenuate patent variances. Indeed, so anxious am I to be an impartial and faithful editor that I will here set out briefly some of the more striking personal matters which are generally received — thus emphasising the differences. For the sake of clearness I will, for the moment, designate the poet as Shakespeare, and another William Shakespeare whom I have to mention as simply William — using the modern spelling. All acknowledged biographers and writers assume that Shakespeare was the son of John of Stratford-on-Avon, who was "probably a son of Richard of Snettisfield."