Divine Philosophy!

Not harsh and crabbed as dull fools believe, But musical as is Apollo's lute.

SHAKSPEARE.

Now must I make such amends to the courteous reader for keeping him away so long from the chiefest person in this my story as may hold him in good humor until he cometh to the end of the narration, for doubtless some may think Master Shakspeare hath not been well used of me, inasmuch as so much less hath lately been said of him than of others, but it be beyond all manner of contradiction that aught of great goodness should be used sparingly, else shall it be straight lessened in value. Things that lack rareness be seldom esteemed by any man; and Master Shakspeare being possessed of excellence of so rare a sort, methinks my thrusting of him into these pages less oft than those of less note shall make him all the more liked of such who know how to prize such extreme worthiness. Albeit, though of this conceit, yet here must I say this much-to wit, Master Shakspeare did bring out his play called "The Merry Wives of Windsor," that was so much approved of by Queen Elizabeth and all her court upon its reading, at which time her majesty with a fine company of courtiers did honor the playhouse with her presence, and seemed to relish the acting of it marvellously and it met with wonderful success, as its singular merit well deserved. To mark the sense the queen's majesty had of him, his vast genius, and great honesty of heart, the next day she sent him a purse of money with a commendable message. After this he sat to the writing of other plays, whereof many were relished of the town in a like manner, and these, together with what he derived from his playing, brought him in such gains, as gave him no fear of the future, and enabled him to send loving tokens to his relations very frequently, and to invite his brother Edmund from Stratford to become a player with him in London.

His reputation continuing so to increase, he was much sought after by many noblemen and persons of worship, who took huge delight in his society for the delicacy of his wit and the honorableness of his behavior. He was held in such request of them, that no name was so oft or famously spoken of; and amongst the gay gallants of the time, not to have been in company with Master Shakspeare argued a want of distinction that was considered of all an infinite disparagement.

Of those who esteemed him most was there none so true a friend as my Lord of Southampton, for he seemed not only never to tire in doing him good service, but the more he did for him in the way of friendliness, the more appeared he inclined to do. Indeed, he was such a patron as poet hath been seldom blessed with, but this also may be said, he met with such a poet as patron never had. About this time Master Shakspeare took also to the writing of poems, whereof one was of the subject of Venus and Adonis, and the other the Rape of Lucrece, and both were very movingly writ, and full of right delicate fancies. They were dedicated by him unto his excellent good friend and patron, in token of what respect he held him in, and in grateful remembrance of my lord's manifold good offices.

It so fell out that Master Shakspeare, though he had some share in the playhouse at the Blackfriars before this, as well as that of the Globe at the Bankside, had been exceeding anxious to have greater share in them; yet lacked he the means to do it with, for it required no small sum. He had saved up but little, and could scarce expect, saved he ever so, to get for some years to come as much as he needed. This told he to none, for he was not of a nature to solicit a favor, though few writers of his time stood much upon ceremony in that respect. His friend Master Burbage knew of it only, and it was like enough he should have more knowledge of his affairs than any other, because of their being such constant associates, sharers of the same property, and fellow-players; and from its being equally the desire of one as of the other that Master Shakspeare should have a greater interest in the playhouse than what he had. For such purpose the latter was eager to increase his gains as fast as he might that he should the sooner realize his wish, therefore brought he out as many plays as he could, together with the poems that have already been mentioned.

About this time Master Shakspeare was in a large room in the playhouse at the Blackfriars, that served as a wardrobe. It had shelves and presses in it as many as it could hold, and pins against the wainscot, on which were placed a wonderful variety of different dresses, such as might be worn of the players in their different plays. There were the robes of the Ottomite and the Venetian, the swarthy Moor and the gay Italian, the

ancient Greek and Roman, and others of modern date, as well foreign as English, together with divers suits of armor, weapons of sundry sorts, hats, caps, cloaks, doublets, jerkins, and boots, seemingly out of all number. The room was so crowded with such motley gear that there was scarce space for one to sit; yet had Master Shakspeare found himself a seat, he being in the habit of using this chamber as a dressing-room; and there sat he in a deep arm-chair, resting of himself, as if after some labor he had undergone, or considering of some matter he was intent upon. He was dressed in what appeared to be a complete suit of armor, having his vizor up, and what could be seen of his face looked exceeding pale and ghostlike, but doubtless that was from some white stuff he had put on to make it so. He was leaning back in his seat, with his legs stretched out before him, resting of his elbow upon an old table, upon which there was seen a rapier and a hat, some papers, with pen and ink, a silver goblet with a flask of wine at the side of it, and two or three books. There was a log blazing on the fire-dogs nearly opposite to him, which cast a cheerful light over the room.

Whilst he was sitting as he was, there was ever and anon heard a voice shouting out famously, which beyond all manner of doubt could belong to none other than Gib the call-boy; and at other times there was heard a noise like unto a great clapping of hands. Once the latter sounds were of so great a loudness, it roused Master Shakspeare from his thoughtfulness, and he jumped up of a sudden with a smile upon his face, that showed he found some satisfaction in them. Then he took off his helmet, and such portion of his armor as encased the upper part of his body and arms; and going to an ewer and basin that stood in a corner, fell to washing of his face, humming of a merry tune all the while, which was only interrupted by the splashing of his mouth with the water. As he was finishing of

his lavation he broke out into the following pleasant song:—

"Go, happy youth, and loudly swear

That with thy Love none can compare ;
And vow to own her angel hand,

Will make thee proudest of the land.
Thou hast her hand. Though that be true.
I asked not for a cudgel too;

And though my own my angel be,

She now doth play the devil with me.'

Alack! Alack and well-a-day!'

I heard a hapless husband say,

• Bachelors all be not too bold,

"Tis better go hang than marry a scold.'

"Go, happy youth, and swear once more,
Thy Love all Loves be far before.
Troth 1 another wife have got,
Who never rateth me one jot.'

A month passed by-the honey-moon-
The doting husband changed his tune;
'O hapless wight! my wife,' cried he,
'Loves others quite as well as me!'

'Alack! Alack! and well-a-day!'
I heard a hapless husband say,
Bachelors all be not betrayed,
'Tis better go hang than marry a jade.'

"Go, happy youth, and swear at last
That all thy travail now is passed.
'I'faith 'tis true. My wooing thrives-
I've found the very best of wives.'
Another month went by-again

I heard the horn mad fool complain.
She doth not scold-she doth not roam-
But drinketh me out of house and home.'

Alack! Alack! and weil-a-day !!
I heard a happy widower say;-
'Bachelors all-seek ye no thrall,
'Tis better go hang than marry at all."

This sung he with such a happy carelessness, it was plain he had not much to fret him; but scarce had he finished it when he heard some one whom he knew on the instant, coming toward the door, whistling of the tune of "Green Sleeves." Not being in a state to be seen of any, for that he was but half-dressed, he presently hied to the door and bolted it inside.

"Ope the door, Will!" cried Master Burbage from without, knocking at it briskly. "Ope the door, I prythee."

Tarry awhile, Dick," replied Master Shakspeare, "I can not let thee in for some minutes."

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Nay, why should I tarry ?" inquired the other, "did I not hear thee singing like a very swan? Haste and ope the door, for I must have speech with thee."

"Tarry awhile, Dick, I tell thee again," said his companion with more emphasis than at first. "I can let thee in now on no account.",

"Oh thou villain!" exclaimed he on the outside in his customary jocular manner. "I see through thy tricks now. Thou art not the bird to be ever a singing to thyself. Thou hast got some pretty wench with thee-a murrain on thee for thy slyness."

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Thou art out in thy reckoning this time, good Dick, depend on't," observed Master Shakspeare laughingly.

By this hand I do not believe thee," cried Master Burbage. "It be plain from thy singing so like unto a swan, and thy not opening the door to me, that thou art playing at Jupiter and Leda after thine own fashion. Oh, I be so monstrously shocked! I be afraid my innocency will so suffer by keeping of thy villanous company, I shall soon get me a

bad character. Dost not know that evil communications corrupt good morals, and be hanged to thee?"

Thy good morals, Dick!" exclaimed the other in the like bantering way. "Under what bushel hast thou hid so goodly a rushlight? Thy good morals! Diogenes with his lanthorn might have met with an honest man, but if he spied thy good morals searched he ever so close, he must needs be blest with marvellous fine eyesight."

"Out on thee for a reprobate!" cried his companion. "Thou dost slander the modestest nature that breathes."

"Then alack for modesty!" replied Master Shakspeare. "But I tell thee what it is, Dick-I am stripped to the buff, therefore be as patient as thou canst for a minute or so."

"I do hugely suspect thee," said Master Burbage. "Thou art not the first I have met in a buff jerkin, therefore is there no occasion to make that a hinderance." Notwithstanding of what he said, his friend opened not the door till he was ready.

"I'faith thou lookest marvellous well considering that thou hast just given up the ghost," observed Master Burbage upon his entering. "Be thy intent wicked or charitable, oh, representative of the majesty of buried Denmark! But I will see with mine own eyes whether thou hast not been cozening of me." Upon this, whilst Master Shakspeare could not but laugh, the other began to look about him with a monstrous earnestness, rummaging of every place, spying into the drawers and presses, and under the tables and chairs.

Mayhap thou hast conjured her into the bottle," observed he very seriously, as he first took a look into the flask, and then poured out some of the wine into the goblet. Well, if she be as good as this," continued he, upon drinking off the liquor," then is she the very excellentest woman I ever came anigh. I'faith, she can not help being a wench after mine own heart. I drink to her better acquaintance.' And thereupon he drunk off another draught of the wine.

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"But how hath Hamlet gone off today?" inquired Master Shakspeare, as soon as he could put on him a serious face. Naught could go better," replied his companion. "I was in front best part of the time, and famously did I notice thy admirable performance; I tell thee truly, Will, thou art the only ghost I would care to look on a second time."

"I believe thee there, Dick," said the other with a laugh. "Nay, 'tis probable enough thou wouldst much rather turn thy back on a ghost than look on it at all.

"I will acknowledge to thee, I like not holding acquaintance with any," said Master Burbage.

"And yet they be not unsocial," observed Master Shakspeare with as much gravity as he could assume. "For I doubt not at all, that not only on its first appearance would one shake thy hand, but shake thy body for thee into the bargain."

"By this light, that be not so bad!" exclaimed his companion, laughing heartily. "But methinks thy wit be like unto a steel breastplate-the brighter it be cometh the oftener it be used."

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That is manifest enough," answered Master Burbage. "And he hath profited well. It was my good hap to be in a room with my Lord of Southampton whilst noticing of the play, and he was quite rapt in it as it were, and greatly commended Master Taylor. But of thy playing of the ghost he seemed to like most of all, for he said there was so awful a fearfulness in thy doing of it, 'twas quite moving to look on; which methinks is nothing more than the truth. We then fell to discoursing of thy many singular excellences, and I do assure thee he spoke right eloquently in thy praise. He mentioned the exceeding fine pleas ure he had lately derived from the perusing of thy most sweet poems, which thou hast properly dedicated to him, for of all true friends I do believe him to be the truest, and spoke of his great desire to do thee such service as might be most lasting. He asked of me concerning of thy circumstances, and pressed much to know whether thou didst lack anything he could obtain for thee. Upon this request of his, I presently told him how anxious wert thou to purchase a greater share in the playhouse than what thou hast already."

"Thou shouldst not have told him

that, Dick," said Master Shakspeare, with

some earnestness.

"And why not, Will?" inquired Master Burbage.

"In truth, I like not seeming to want aught of any," replied the other.

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Seeming to want fiddlestick," exclaimed his companion. "Thou art too scrupulous by far. Dost think I would stand upon my punctilios with one inclined to do me a kindness? I be no such a wittol, I promise thee. But to proceed with my narration. My lord did inquire very particularly what sum was required the value of the property-the advantages to be gained by a purchase of such a share of it, and the like sensible questions; to all of which, thou mayest depend on it, I gave right sensible answers."

"I would thou hadst never spoke on the matter," observed Master Shakspeare, very seriously.

"Out on thee for an ungrateful varlet!" cried Master Burbage. "Well, after this, my lord left me, courteously bidding of me good day, and I, as soon as I might, posted to thee, to let thee know how good a friend thou hast in him; for I be quite certain, though he gave me no hint of a promise that he hath most liberal intentions toward thee."

"I have seen few of so generous a nature," said the other. "Yet can I never bring my mind to take advantage of it, nevertheless"

"Here cometh Gib's heavy foot-mayhap he hath a message for one or other of us," observed his companion, interrupting him, and sure enough a footstep was heard of the very clumsiest sort approaching the door-then there came a knock at it, and admittance being granted, certes Gib, the call-boy, made his appearance, looking in no way altered from what he was when the courteous reader had sight of him last, being just as bandy in the legs, as monstrous in the mouth, as squinting in the eyes, as carroty in the hair, as awkward in his manner, and as clumsy in his shape as ever.

"Here be a letter for Master Shakspeare," said he, and straightway Master Shakspeare took it from his hand.

"Well, Chanticleer!" exclaimed Master Burbage, hitting of the boy a slap on the back which nearly sent him off his legs. "Thou didst play thy part famously."

"Methinks, for the playing of the cock in Hamlet, there be few so apt," replied the call-boy, looking exceeding dignified.

"Thou art too modest by half," said Master Burbage with a wondrous gravity. "Thou art sure to be cock of the walk' wherever thou goest. I'faith, thou deserveth to be the king of the cocks and of the hens too, thou hast such a superlative talent for crowing."

"Dost think so, indeed!" cried Gib, grinning with such delight it did stretch his monstrous mouth from ear to ear. " Perchance, if such be your opinion, you will advance me in the profession of which you have said so oft I am like to be so great an ornament?"

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'O' my word there would be no such an ornament amongst us," remarked the other, looking upon the uncomely figure before him with all the seriousness he could put on. "But stick to the cock, I prythee, for in the playing of that thou hast not thy peer; yet would I venture to assert that, shouldst thou make an essay in any other part, there would be none like unto thee in the performance of it."

"Doth any person wait?" inquired Master Shakspeare, after reading of the letter, whilst the two were talking.

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None, an' it please you," replied the boy. "It was my Lord Southampton who gave it to me, as I was showing of Will Peppercorn the way I would play Romeo, were I let." At this the two players looked at each other very particularly, with something of an inclination to laugh: "and my lord bade me carry it to Master Shakspeare," continued he; "and was so civil as to give me a silver groat; and then, merely requesting of me not to delay in the delivery of the letter, he took himself out of the playhouse."

"Having done what was required of thee, we will now dispense with thy company," said Master Shakspeare.

"Get thee gone, good Cock," exclaimed Master Burbage, lifting up his foot, and lending him such a kick of the breech, as he was a turning round, that sent him, as it were, flying through the open door.

"Nay, hurt him not, I prythee," cried Master Shakspeare, upon seeing the rapid disappearance of the call-boy, though he could not help laughing.

"O' my life, I do believe he hath no more feeling in him than a stone," replied the other, who was very merry upon it. "I doubt not, if he were handsomely paid, he would allow himself to be kicked from this world to the next. He liketh nothing so well. I have seen him rejoice at having a cuff from any of us; and a kick appeareth to delight him be

yond all measure. Lord Southampton ?" "Thou shalt hear," replied his companion, and without further preamble read the following:

But what sayeth my

WORTHY MASTER SHAKSPEARE: To say aught of the delicate pleasure I have received from that marvellous sweet poem you have done my poor name the honor of dedicating unto me, I can not at this present, as I lack time to express all that I feel; and to do less than that, were not to do you justice. Rest you satisfied, then, that though I be silent on the matter, I am eloquent enough at heart for well can I appreciate such things, and exceeding glad shall I be to prove how well I think of them. On the receipt of this, please you to come to me at my dwelling, for I am desirous you should do me a favor, the granting of which will be to my extreme gratification. "H. W.'"

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“O' my life he be but a scurvy fellow after all," exclaimed Master Burbage, jumping up from the table on which he had sat himself, and seeming in a wonderful vexation. "Instead of acting the true friend by thee, with such handsomeness as he might do, without hurt to him, he contenteth himself with asking a favor of thee. A fig for such patrons, say I: there be too many of this sort, Wondrous fine fellows are they all, who are exceeding bountiful with their praise, which costeth nothing; but when there shall come a fine occasion for showing that generousness of soul which one that hath the power should always show to him he assumeth to be the patron to, they slink away, and will do nothing."

"Thou dost grossly abuse him, I will be bound for't," said Master Shakspeare, warmly. "I do not think there breathes a better, a truer, or gentler heart, than is my Lord of Southampton. I see nothing in the letter but the kindly disposition I have ever known in him."

“Kindly fig's end!” cried the other, seemingly in no very pleasant mood; "talk not to me of kindly dispositions, that be shown in naught but mere words. I have no patience with such."

"Notwithstanding of which, I shall haste to my lord's without loss of time," observed his companion. Whatever favor it may be that I can confer, he may depend on receiving, and right glad shall I be of the opportunity of doing it." And thereupon he proceeded to make himself ready to go out.

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"Then thou deservest all thou wilt get for thy pains," said Master Burbage. Depend on't, he intendeth only to suck thy brains for thee, which having done to an absolute sufficiency-a murrain on him! he will be monstrous prodigal in his compliments, but as for putting of his hand in his purse, he would as soon meddle with the plague.

Shakspeare; "so he need never put his "I want not his purse," replied Master hand there for me: but of his willingWilt go with me?" he added, as he was ness to serve me, I am well convinced. making for the door.

"Nay I am bound for the very prettiest woman that lives," observed his companion, seemingly putting of his dress before a large mirror nigh unto the fire. in the very properest order, as he stood "Oh! she hath such a delicate waist, and so dainty an ankle-such lustrous eyes-so ruby a lip-so"

"Another Joanna ?" here interrupted Master Shakspeare.

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Hang Joanna !" exclaimed Master Burbage, with extreme asperity, and quickly followed his friend, who had gone laughing out of the room.

Master Shakspeare made the best of his way to the Lord Southampton's, pleased in his heart that he had it in his power to oblige one for whom he enter tained so perfect a respect. He found him in his study—an elegant chamber of moderate dimensions, well furnished with books, together with some few pictures. He was sitting before a pleasant fire, having wine, and fruit, and some choice cakes on a table beside him, and was reading of a book by its light, the time being toward the dusk of the afternoon, a little too early for candles.

"Welcome,Master Shakspeare," he exclaimed, as soon as the other entered the room, quickly putting of his book down, and rising to shake him by the hand. "Sit you down, and partake of such cheer as I can give you.'

"With all mine heart, my good lord," replied his companion, cheerfully complying with my lord's request; and they presently, with exceeding sociableness, fell to drinking of wine, and eating of the delicacies upon the table, seasoning them with such friendly converse as was like to pass on such an occasion between two so well inclined to each other. There could be no mistaking the expres sion on the features of the young nobleman, for never was benevolence so apparent in a human face; and the fine,