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in the story-book, out of thy mouth there | dear wench did repeat some most enticometh nothing but venemous things." cing words, which sent me to the mer

“ But whal niercer art thou auempting cer's in a presently. To please him, I to ruin ?" inquired his companion. ordered these fallals, and to please her; I

“A fig for the mercer-'tis the mer wear them. I met her by appointment cer's daughter I seek !" replied his guest. since then in Paul's Walk, and after that

Attempt to ruin a mercer's daugh- she gave me some delicious interviews ter!" exclaimed the other, half starting alone in her father's dwelling, of which from his chair with affected surprise. I made right profitable use. I tell thee, “Fie on thee, for a reprobate! thou art she is ready to melt in my arms." enough to corrupt us all; thou wilt have “A wax doll would do ihe same, Dick," the whole city up in arms against us, and drily remarked the other, “ if thou wert we shall be obliged to fly from the Bank- warm enough." side to escape the stocks."

" Away with thy pestilent similes !" “I meant not that, Will—I am a exclaimed his guest, starting up from his heathen if I meant that; but thou know seat, as if in anger; then, resuming his est my failing -I am always afier the place, continued : “She showed me yeswomen. Oh, those exquisite, sweet crea- terday a sonnet, or some other pernicious

mischief of the kind, which had been “Thou shouldst have more ambition, written in commendaıion of her beauty Dick; precedency is man's natural righi -perhaps by some crazy engrosser of in such instances, but if thou art always parchments. The plague of bad clients after the women, thou canst never hope be upon him !-and asked me to try what to get before them.”

I could do in that way. Now, unless I "Thou hast me again,” cried his com can produce some such verses-my malpanion, as he threw himself back in his ediction rest upon Apollo and all his genseat to give vent to his laughier; “I eration !-I feel assured I may spare mywould as soon attempt to parry jests with self the trouble of venturing wiihin the thee as to eat thistles with a jackass ; so precincts of her tenemeni. Thou knowtake thy fill, and be hanged to thee. But est I could as soon fly as rhyme. I have I tell thee how it is, Will: This mercer's scratched my head till it ached, and daughter is said to be the richest beiress looked up to the ceiling till my neck was in the city. I saw her at the Bear gar- as siiff as my ruff; but if ever I succeeded den with the old hunks her father, whom in making reason of my rhyme, or rhyme she ruleih most filially; and observing of my reason, I'm worse than a Jew. So that she had an eve like Venus"

I tell thee whal, sweet Will, thou shalt "Only one, Dick ?" inquired his com- help me in this strait with thine own unpanion, innocently.

paralleled talents, and if I be not graie"Two, or I'm a sinner,” replied he-ful, call me a dog." "and a bust like Juno; ay, and every "Dog, quoiha !” cried the other, in grace that all Olympus possessed. In seeming amazement; “art thou not the brief, a beau:y of such ravishing perfec- veriest dog that howls o' nighis? What tions, that immediately I found her gaze a face hast thou, thou impudent varlet, upon me, I felt as many of Cupid's ar- after having, with thy miserable breath, rows in my heart as there are pins in her cursed Apollo and all his generation, to huswise, and thereupon fell most conti- come, cap in hand, to one of the humblest Dently in love."

of his followers! Go to, I'll ha' none of With her father's strong box, Dick ?" thee! I abandon thee to the fury of the asked the other.

immortal gods." With her o'vn sweet self, thou ag · Nay, but, sweet Will." gravaling varlet. I presently made up “ Ay, “sweet Will' thou callest me to the faiher, and did enier into very so now ; yet a moment since I was likened ber discourse, till I found I had got hold to a jackass eating thistles. Hast thou of the daughter's ear, and then I pointed no shame? Dost think, because thine out the persons of distinction in the com own wretched back will not stir a foot, pany, and seasoned my conversation wiih that thou shalt ride on my Pegasus? I'm some delicate compliments, all which an oyster if I let thee." she did receive in very good fashion, re “What! not assist thy old friend and warding

me with such looks from her comrade ?" asked the other, in ihe sa me sost hazel eyes as warmed my veins like bantering tone he had used from the first; a stoup of canary. The old fellow cour'e “how ofien have I done ibee a good turn ously invited me to his house, and the that way? Dost remember, in merry

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Stratford, when we were both boys, yet and supporting bis head with his hand ; with an intolerant inclination for the hon- and kept a profound attention whilst ors of mauhood, how ofien I did lead Sir Master Shakspeare read the following Thomas Lucy's gamekeeper in search of lines:imaginary deer-stealers, whilst ihou wert

“ The Time hath passed for godlike forms courung bis niece in the shrubbery ?"

To leave awhile their starry homes, “Ha! ha! thou hast me there, Dick," And throw, 'mid human clouds and storms,

Elysian joy on mortal domes. replied his friend, unable to refrain from

The Time haih passed when Phæbus fung laughing at the odd associations which His golden spells on laughing earth; came crowding to his memory ; " thou

And ev'ry field and forest rung

With hymns of bliss, and shouts of mirth. bast me there of a surety. Ah, Kate ! Chaste Dian's sily'ry voice is mute, she was a delectable little gipsey, with a The Sea Nymphs dance not on the shore ;

Silent is now the Diyad's Aule, most enricing ankle, and a smile that

And Pan's sweet reed is heard no more. would thaw a six weeks' frost. But dost E'en Love haih folded up his wings, forget thine own tricks, old memoran

And from his hand his how hath cast;

Apollo's lyre hath lost its strings, dum ? Hast forgot when thou wert lay Its tune hath fled-THE TIME HATH PASSED! ing siege to Barbara, the sexton's pretiy

Gone are the glorious visitants daughter, behind the church, how I, with

Who gave this world so bright a grace, a sheet I had stolen for the ponce, and And Grief and Care-a thousand wants,

And endless crimes, are in their place ; a turnip-lantern and candle, did stalk

Unlionored is the poet's lay through the churchyard, to keep the folks That once made all Olympus glad ; froin disturbing thee-to the horror of

And Worth is !eft to beg its way,

Or perish with the mean and bad. the whole neighborhood, and the near And I, who strove with heart and mind, frightening to death of three ancient That famished souls might break their fast,

Discover now that Heaven is blind, spinsters, two drunken ploughboys, and

The world is dead-THE TIME HATH PASSED! the parish constable ?" “ Ha! ha! ha!" shouted the other, " Oh, no, the Time's restored again,

And with it all its gladdening shapes, with an obstreperous fit of mirih, “ 'tis as

The whilst, frorn off the breast and brain, true as life ; I'm nothing better than a The cloud in which they lay, escapes. Turk, if every word isn't gospel. But,"

Phæbus in thy bright shape returns.

Thy word's chaste Dian's voice enslave, added he, gravely, “ who could imagine For Thee the Sea Nymphs' crystal urns, Master William Shakspeare playing the

When in the bath thy limbs must lave.

Love in thine eyes haih ta'en new ground, ghost in a country churchyard ?”

And keeps his sharp artillery there ; “ Or Master Richard Burbage playing The breeze A pollo's strings hath found, the lover to a sexton's daughter ?".

And stirs them in thy golden hair ;

And as for Pan's Arcadian reed, And thereupon the two wortbies did Tuned with the Dryads' measured trips, laugh till the iears ran down their cheeks,

What blissful melodies exceed

The music breathing from thy lips ? and for some time every word they added Well cared for is the green earth still, seemed to act as a provocative to their

When round thee all Olympis glows; rnirth.

Well honored is the poet's skill,

When worth like thine its praise bestows. I'faith, after all's said and done,” ob Then blessings be upon thy path, served Master Shakspeare, when he had

And joy that no ili breath can blast

Be with thee-now the world's poor wrath recovered his gravity, “ 'twas most ex Can harta me not-THE TIME HATH PASSED" quisite fooling.”

“I'faith it was," said Master Burbage. Excellent good, i'faith !” exclaimed “ But thou wilt let me have the verses ?" Master Burbage, delightedly. Excelhe added, as he sauntered up to the table. lent good! If she be not satisfied with

" Ay, marry will I, for old acquaint- it, nothing less than another Iliad will ance sake,” replied his friend, and imme- gratify her cormorant fancy. Give me diately did search among his papers, from the paper, sweet Will! Dan Homer was which he presently selected one. Scru- a blind ballad-monger to thee, thou prince tinizing it earnestly, he continued—“Ha! of rhymers." here is a string of idle rhymes that may “ Avaunt, thou horrid flatterer !” cried hap may suit thy purpose, and thy mer- Master Shakspeare, as he allowed bis cer's daughter also. I think of it indif- cornpanion to conceal the verses in his ferently; nay, I will acknowledge I fancy purse. “But 'iis poor fishing with other 'ris rather discreditable to me; but each folks'tackle, Dick,” he added, in his own has his own laste, and therefore it may facelious way. stand a chance of pleasing thy ina moraia. Faith, I care not an' I have good Listen, and I will read it to ibee." sport: and I'll pay thee for thy tackle

Master Burbage did lean his elbow on with a loose fish or iwo," replied the oihthe table, having his body bent forward, ) er, with a chuckle of inward satisfaction.


“ I'll ha' none o' thy gudgeons,” said Fletcher; for that there is something in his friend, wiih mock disdain. “When the book is evident in the index—thou I fish I catch whales."

lookest as important as a tailor's wife “ Then hast thou a very blubberly threading her husband's needle.” taste," rejoined Master Burbage, “and O’my troth, I have something worth when I want salve for a wound I'll come the telling,” replied he. to thee; for thou must have a most in “ Disburihen ihyself then, and quickly, finite stock of spermaceti.”

good Lazarus," observed Master Shak'sThus they proceeded, bantering and peare. laughing at one another, and indulging “ There hath a message come from the their humors with perfect satisfaction to master of the Revels, worthy Master Edthemselves, when a knock was heard at mond Tilney,” said Master Fletcher, “ :0 the door, and admittance being granted, the intent that it be the design of the there entered a man of a pleasant aspect, queen's majesty, with divers of her honand of spare figure, noi so gayly gar- orable court, to honor her poor players mented as Master Burbage, yet having with a visit; and leaving Hemings and much of the outward appearance of re- Condell and the rest to prepare for her spectability.

reception, I posted off here, as Master “Welcome, good Lazarus Fletcher. Burbage had left word that he would be Welcome !" cried Master Shakspeare. found at Master Shakspeare's lodgings.”

“ Hail to thee, Lazarus !” added Mas “Hurrah !" shouted Master Burbage, ter Burbage, in his usual jocose manner. snatching up his hat and waving it over “ Hast thou come to the rich man's table, his head, “we'll have a right worshipful Lazarus ? Look for the crumbs, man! audience. Heaven preserve her majesty, Look for the crumbs! and thou art not and enrich her servants, say I. Come like to get anything else ; for the table along, good Lazarus !” he added, as he hath noihing better than a bare trencher caught his brother actor by the arm, and an empty tankard. Catch the crumbs must to the playhouse." that hath fallen then, for, in truth, thou “I will be with thee anon, Dick," said lookest wofully like a right hungry Laz- Master Shakspeare, as his visiters were arus.

proceeding to the door. “ But I have a “If I look as hungry as Lazarus, thou letter to write to my Lord Southampton, lookest as fine as Dives," retorted Master to thank him for yonder exquisite present Fletcher.

of flowers he haih sent me from his own “What, be there no dogs to lick this garden, and to acquaint him with our Lazarus, that he seemeth so woundily proceedings with the court of aldermen, sore ?" said the other. “But I tell thee touching our threatened liberties, at the what, Lazarus, an' thou ever liest in Blackfriars." Abraham's bosom, thou hadst best tuck “Success attend thee, Will, in all thy up thine ankles, for thou must needs find doings,” exclaimed his friend, and putthere a plentiful lack of bed-room.” ting on his hat he led his companion out

“ Mind not the reprobate, worthy of the chamber. Fletcher," observed Master Shakspeare Master Shakspeare being left alone, yet unable to refrain from laughing. did presently draw up his chair closer to

Marry, why should I mind him," re- the table on which he had been writing, plied the other, “he only showeth that and did recommence bis labors with an he hath a spice of the ability of Sam- admirable diligence. Mayhap he was son : for he maketh a goodly use of the engaged in the inditing of one of those jawbone of an ass.

righi famous plays which did bring so · Ha, ha !" shouted Master Shakspeare, much honor to his name; but know I not chafing his hands in the intensity of his this for a surely ; and as a trusty chronidelight. “Spare him not, good Lazarus; cler, I will only subscribe to that ot' which an thou, loveih me, spare him noi.” I have a perfect knowledge. However, Then looking toward his friend, he added, it be certain that he had not been long “ l'faith, Dick, thou hast found thy so engaged, when a third knock was match.”

heard at the door, so gentle it was scarce“Match !” exclaimed Master Burbage, ly audible; and although he seemed at turning sharp round from the casement first somewhat impatient of interruption out of which he had that moment been (for no man liketh 10 be much disturbed leaning, “ay, marry! and like other in his privacy), when, upon his giving matches-all the good lieth in the brim- permission to the person to enter, he ob

But tell us thy news, Master / served his visiter, he gave him most cour


teous welcome. He was a youth, aged opening it, sat himself down in the chair, seventeen, or thereabouts, tall, slim, and as if to give it a careful examination : then elegant, and though clad in homely rus- added, but in all honesty, I must acset, there was that in his graceful car- knowledge that it hath a total unfitness for riage, and in his mild yet thoughtful coun- representation.” At this the youth's countenance, that did signify something of a tenance became blanched with a sudden far higher quality than such poor apparel paleness. “ It haih a lack of everything did denoie. But most remarkable was which is most necessary for a drama 10 the exceeding modesty of his deportment have: to wit, action-interesi—and charHe opened and closed the door almost acter ;-the which, if it have not, were tremblingly, and respectfully taking off it written by King Solomon himself, or his hai, advanced into the room with the seven wise nasters in conjunction, it downcast eyes, to the great marvel of our would have no chance with our modern illustrious poet.

audiences. The time of mysteries and “I look the boldness, Master Shaks. moralities haih gone by. People now will peare," said the youth falteringly, as he not listen to dialogues without an object, kept smoothing his hat with his hand and plays without a plot. David hath where he stood in the middle of the ceased to abuse Goliath in a set speech chamber-" I took the boldness some an hour long, and Joseph lingereth no time since to send you a tragedy of my longer to preach a thrice tedious sermon poor contrivance; hoping, from what I to Potiphar's wife. If a play have not achad heard of your worthy disposition, tion it must needs have but little interest; that you would honor that humble at- for although something may occasionally tempt to such an extent as to give it your be done in a narrative forin, if the ball perusal; and peradventure if such an ob- be not kept up-that is to say, if the scure individual be not thought altogether dramatis personæ be doing of nothingunworthy of aitention from one so excel- even if the sentences be proverbs of wislenily gifted as yourself, you will favor dom, then shall the play be a bad play. me so far as to grant me your opinion of Again, if the characters who form the its matter and management.”.

plot have no individuality or distinct feaThat will I, worthy sir, without fail,” iures, in accordance with nature or probreplied Master Shakspeare, regarding ability, though they look like Alexanders his young visiter with a more than ordi- and argue like Aristoties, shall the play nary interest. “But you must first ac- be a bad play. Your tragedy, Master qua int me with your name, and the title Francis, hath ihese particular defects, and of the play you intrusted to my custody ; I should be bugely deficient in candor, and for my reputation, however little deserved in no way deserving ihe confidence you it may be, and my influence at the play have been pleased to place in me, were I house, which is thought to be greater to refrain from telling you ihat it can not than it is, are the causes of my being be acted with any profit either to your. continually applied to for a similar pur- self or others. There is another objecpose.”

tion to it—he subject hath already been “The tragedy was called · Hero Lean- done by Kit Marlowe.” der,' and I signed my name • Francis,'' Masier Shakspeare observing for the murmured the youth.

first time that the lips of his visiter had “Let me beg of you to be seated, wor- lost their accustomed ruddiness, and that thy Master Francis,” exclaimed the other, he did look most despairing and wo-beas he hastily handed him a chair. “I gone, with that sweet sympathy which remember it well,” he added, as he maketh the generous so fearful of giving searched among his papers on the table, pain to another, instanly began to turn • by the token that it did contain many over ihe leaves of Masier Francis his passages that exhibited no mean ability." play, and resurned his discourse. But

The melancholy, aspect of the young let me not cause you to imagine that I stranger did brighten up marvellously at think naught of your tragedy, Master the hearing of this commendation, and Francis. Far be it from me to say so. I his eyes looked abundance of thanks. do consider the blank verse very musical He argued the most favorable conclusion and eloquent, and full of right admirable Srom so promising a commencement, for conceiis. Here is a passage in which a it is the nature of youth to be sanguine lover, expostulating with his mistress, upon very liitle occasion.

who doch affect inconstancy in no small “I have it,” said Master Shakspeare, measure, sayeih this much as argument as he laid hold of the manuscript ; and, to prove the unity of love :

«• Effect and cause-(the lover and the loved) “ You will wait a while before you offer

Are consequence and origin of one
Pure, single, and connective property-

any composition to the public eye,” said The proud desire of human happiness : Master Shakspeare, affecting not to noWhich leads one spirit to another one,

tice the interruption he had received, yet One heart unto its fellow. This is love, Which, with an inclination natural,

being much pleased thereat." You are And fond and sweet. and generous and good, young-your knowledge of the world Ever inclineth one sex to the other To realize a mutual bliss. The two,

must, therefore, be scanıy: and although In pairs, from other pairs apart, are joined I do perceive in your writings a compreIn bonds of budding hopes and blushing joys ; hensive acquaintance wiih books, he who The whilst the Social Virtues hand in hand, Linked like the golden rings that form a chain

writeih tragedies should possess an equal of precious, priceless worth, circle them round, knowledge of men ; tberefore I do advise And keep off from the temple of their bliss, Unholy thoughts, false gods, and evil deeds.'

you, for some years to come, 10 study

mankind, if you entertain any desire of “And again, in continuation of the taking your stand among our English same subject :

dramatists. Moreover, you have as yet 6. The forest tops acquired no information as to the busiGive voices to the wind, and there the dove

ness of the sage-a maiter of vast moSits with her mate secure-with heart all joyIn inclination incorrupt-in dreams

ment toward the success of even the best That are reality: and still her breast

play. This you can only inform yourself With passionate ecstacy heaves tremblingly ; There is a stiriing gladness in her eyes ;

of by noting what others have done. The There is a thrilling music in her voice; most effective way for you to do this is to For she doth own a blessed tranquillity.

come to us at the play house, where you No other winged one can seek that nest; They find a perfect pleasure in theinselves ;

shall have free ingress and egress upon Their lives are for each other; and unknown every fitting occasion : and I will forward Beyond the little sanctuary of their loves. Is any rapture which they there enjoy.

your interest in all that my poor skill or

influence can effect." ". If Nature then declare her law to be

The tone of kindness with which these That one alone should into one be fixed In sac ed love and pure devotedness,

last seniences were delivered, seemed to Shall human kind, of loving things the best, have a most powerful effect upon the lisThe noblest, wisest, and the most divine, Give that in partnership to more than one

tener; indeed it bad gone direct to his Which one alone can know in purity ?

heart, and he sat for some seconds perDivide this precious intluence-'lis lost. fectly unable to utter a syllable. The moment that in other hands 'tis placed Gone is the golden virtue it possessed.

“Is there anything more I can do for The sage's wisdom is his own-the wand you?" inquired Master Shakspeare, reof the magician doth forget its charm With one who hath no magic-strike the harp

garding the changing color and modest A moment since so eloquent with song

demeanor of his visiter with increasing Raised by the Poet's skill, and nothing speaks

interest. • Though I seek noi to make a But what is dull, and harsh, and dissonant. And why is this?-Because in natural things,

boast of it, I have some powerful friends, There is an ownership: and Love, of all to whom, peradventure, my recommendaOur natural gilts most natural, Adinits of no division of its worth.

tion would do good service, if venjured in We can not set one gem in many rings.' behalf of one of your excellent parts and

disposition." “I do opine, Master Francis," contin "Oh, Master Shakspeare!" murmured ued our illustrious dramatist, with a look the youth, looking up to him with eyes of kindness toward his young companion, made humid by his grateful emotions, “ I who had been listening with delighted would I had language to thank you; but attention to Master Shakspeare's fault- my heart is too full.” less delivery of his lines—“I do opine Nay, nay, worthy Master Francis,” that there is much admirable matter in said the other, encouragingly, “ if you these words; and the same opinion holds love me you must not think of that. He good toward other passages in your play, who looks for thanks deserveth them not. of similar excellence; which plainly Such a one am not I. I will acknowlprove to me that there is no lack of edge I feel a regard for you, and would promise in you. But be not too basty; wish to be your friend: and if you will pluck not the fruit before it be ripe, else intrust me with your confidence, rest asthey who may chance to taste it will sured it shall not be abused. Tell me, make wry mouths. If you would take is your way of life agreeable to you.?" the advice of one willing to do you all “ Indeed it is not,” replied his visiter, manner of good offices”

with a melancholy expression of counte“ If I do not, I should be the most un- nance that completely attested the truth worthy varlet i bat lives," exclaimed Mas- of the avowal. ** But why should I take ter Francis warmly.

advantage of the goodness of your dispo

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