Catalogue of the Books Presented by Edward Capell to the Library of Trinity College in Cambridge — Reading Companion

Collation as Evidence of Rarity

Greg's entries foreground physical structure. For the 1608 Merry Devil of Edmonton, he records 'Collation: A-F 4 , unpaged' and adds 'No other copy recorded'. The 1617, 1626, 1631, and 1655 editions receive similar treatment, each with its own collation formula and a note on missing leaves. This systematic recording allows a reader to trace the play's printing history across six editions. Greg does not speculate on why copies lack leaves; he simply states the fact. The catalogue thus becomes a tool for identifying and comparing surviving copies, not a narrative of the book's reception.

Provenance and Institutional Context

The preface reproduces the College's 1779 conclusion: 'Agreed by the Master and Seniors, that the thanks of the Society be presented to Edward Capel, Esq. for the valuable Collection of the old Editions of Shakespeare'. Greg also quotes a later conclusion about the books' keeping, referenced in the entry for the manuscript catalogue. These documents anchor the collection in a specific institutional moment. The catalogue itself, printed for Trinity College at the University Press, carries the imprint 'Cambridge: PRINTED BY J. AND C. F. CLAY, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS' and the dedication 'EDWARDI CAPELL MANIBVS'. The bibliographic record thus doubles as a monument to a donor.

The Catalogue's Own Bibliographic Apparatus

Greg includes a preface, errata, a list of Capell's Shakespeare manuscripts, and an index of printers and stationers. The entries themselves cite standard references: for Francis Meres's Palladis Tamia (1598), Greg gives 'Sinker 775. BM 1093'. For Milton's Paradise Lost, he records the imprint of three booksellers. The catalogue is thus a work of scholarship that situates each item within the broader universe of early modern printing. A reader interested in the material history of Shakespeare's sources will find here not just a list but a carefully constructed research tool, one that remains useful for identifying editions and their relationships.

Greg's catalogue rewards a slow, attentive reading. The repeated collation formulas and condition notes—'Wanting A 1 (? blank)'—build a picture of how early printed books survive. Readers interested in the history of Shakespeare editing will find Capell's library documented with a precision that allows comparison with other collections. The index of printers and stationers offers a further entry point for those tracing the networks of the London book trade.

There’s something melancholy about cataloguing a bequest—each entry a stone in a monument to one man’s obsession. Greg’s precise collations of Capell’s Shakespeares feel like whispered conversations across centuries. I sometimes think of that care when I revisit a well-worn book of my own, like 1000 Things Worth Knowing — Reading Companion, whose margins hold questions I once asked and never answered.