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Shakespeare would cast at him out of 's l into a Roman or ancient Briton, a lover eye a merry glint. “Hast thou thy plate or a king, a conspirator or a jester, comyet ? ” Master Ben would ask me, "and pounded part of fact, part of fancy, yet the tapestry of thy dining chambers ? would the morsel of fact leaven the whole Come, let us have Doll Tearsheet meet with truth. us at supper.” “O Lord, sir," would I Raleigh. Was this Sir Thomas Lucy say, “I know no Dolls nor Tears ets he whom the world calls Justice Shallow? neither; but 'twas a merry man, I war- Drayton. Nay, he hath been dead these rant you, tho’ I did never know what his many years this is his son ; but the meaning was.
companion that's with him thou mayst Drayton. These memories of thine chance to have heard of. breed but sad mirth in me now.
Enter SIR THOMAS LUCY and MASTER Hostess. Well-a-day, if there be not Sir
THYNNE, in mourning habits.
Hostess. Wilt please you walk this way, leave, kind sirs, I will go receive them.
Sir Thomas ? This chamber is warmer, [She goes out.
and the day is fresh. There be here, sirs,
none but these two gentlemen. Drayton. Dear Walter, this stroke is so
Sir Thomas. Master Drayton, as I resudden that it bewilders me ; methinks I am dreaming ; I discourse, remember, Warwickshire, I think, sir
member me. You are of our county of reason, and so forth, and yet my brain all the while wrapt as in a cerement. Com-service. Give me leave to bring you ac
Drayton. I am so, Sir Thomas, at your ing here with my thoughts full of him, sitting in this room where he and I have quainted with my friend and comrade in sat so oft, what could seem less strange
travel, Master Walter Raleigh. than that he could enter and greet me; Raleighs of Devonshire, mayhap ?
Sir Thomas. I salute you, sir. Of the and yet a little word hath made me know that to be impossible for all time.
Raleigh. The same, Sir Thomas.
Sir Thomas. An honourable family, Raleigh. Ay, sir, amidst my own pain I remember how you have been familiar sir, and one that hath borne itself among
the best these many reigns past. You with that divinest man, and must feel a far deeper sorrow than myself, that know quarter the arms of Throckmorton, as I him but in the picture my imagination think, sir -- you bear gules, five fusils, in hath formed ; and I perceive by the blank
bend argent, and your cognizance a stag;
or is't a martlet? made in mine own present, what a void must be left in yours. Would
Raleigh. I knew not we, being but simhave
you us quit Stratford forthwith ?
ple gentlemen, and out of favour, were of Drayton. Nay, by no means ;
that mark that our quarterings should be
thus well known. rather give our sorrow somewhat to feed on ; let us fill it with the sad memories
Sir Thomas. I am something of a herthat abound here. For, to me, everything ald, I would have you know, sir
. Mein Stratford speaks of Shakespeare; 'twas thinks 'twere well that men of quality here he lived while that unmatched ap- of all the rest, making as 'twere one fam
were familiar each with the pretensions prehension was most waxlike to receive impressions, when wonder and observa- ly in condition: thus should we at once tion were quickest in him ; and 'twas here baser sort. And so, sir, of the leisure I
know who are of the better, who of the he began to fill a storehouse from whence to draw at will. For his manner was al- spare from mine office as justice of the ways to build on a ground of fact, or, peace, and from mine own concerns, I rather, to sow fact like a seed, and let it give somewhat to heraldry. strike in that rich soil till ofttimes none
Drayton. I perceive by the sad hue of but himself could tell (even if himself your garments that you design to be prescould) what the ripened fruit had sprung
ent at Master Shakespeare's funeral. from. Sometimes he would limn a man
Sir Thomas. Ay, sir. His son-in-law, in brief as he saw him, and, again, he Doctor Hall
, is our physician at Charlewould so play with his first notion, dress- cote, and I have had dealings with him. ing it and transforming it, yet ever work- self, and held him in esteem. ing even as nature works, that the citi- whole world should honour such worth as
Raleigh. 'Tis as it should be — the zen of Stratford or Warwick would grow
his. • Charlecote, still the family seat of the Lucys, is
Sir Thomas. Nay, good sir, I go not some four miles from Stratford.
so far with you: though he were indeed
80 honourable that his neighbours, even not for the play, though, good sooth,' I of condition, may well accord him a last liked it well enough. But give me for show of respect.
sport a stage with two good backsword or Drayton. I am glad that the old grudge quarter-staff men; or a greased pole with between Master Shakespeare and Sir a Gloucester cheese atop; or a bull-runThomas your father holds not in this gen- ning : but of all sport, by the mass ! I eration.
love the bear-garden man and boy, I Sir Thomas. Why, for that, Master ever loved it; 'tis the rarest sport, in Drayton, in respect of the deer-stealing, good sooth, now. 'twas not such a matter as is ne'er to be Drayton. Methought, Sir Thomas, forgiven nor forgotten ; he was but a when you talked of honouring my dear youth then, and he suffered for't ; and, friend, 'twas for his works. for the scurril ballad concerning which Sir Thomas. Nay, sir, I make no acthe rumor went 'twas writ by Shake- count of his works, and, indeed, know speare, why, 'twas none of his.
nought of them. He has won a good staDrayton. I'll be sworn 'twas not. Know tion, and maintained it, and therefore he we not the hand of the master better than should have his due. to take such 'prentice-stuff for his ? As Drayton. For his descent, that, as all well affirm that a daw's feather may drop men know, was not above humble citifrom an eagle.
zen's degree. Sir Thomas. Nay, sir, I have better Sir Thomas. His mother was an Arassurance ; he himself, of his own mo- den; and his father was granted a coat tion, told my father (and hath repeated it of arms by the College, a spear or, upon to myself) that he ne'er wrote it.
a bend sable, in a field of gold — the Drayton. He hath told me the same crest, a falcon with his wings displayed, - and for the plays
standing on a wreath of his colours, supSir Thomas. For the plays wherein porting a spear; and he might impale 'twas said he drew my father, 'twas idle with Arden. And the gentleman himself gossip. How should a Gloucestershire hath for years been of good havings, with justice, one Shallow (for such I am told lands and houses, and of good repute in is what passes for the portrait), represent all his dealings ; therefore, say I, that we Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote in War- who be neighbours and gentlemen, should wickshire ?
have him in respect. Thynne. 'Twas said, too, that he had Thynne. Yea, forsooth! gentlemen set me down along with mine uncle. By should give to other gentlemen (thof they the mass ! I should not care though it be new-made and quarter not) what counhad been so ; for I saw the play * once in tenance they may, for their better advanLondon, and Master Slender was a gen- tage, and to maintain them in consideratleman, and an esquire, and of good tion, look you, and to prosper them; and means, though the people did laugh, I therefore 'tis we come to make two at the know not why, at some of his discourse. burial. But he and the rest lived in Harry Raleigh. O ye gods ! this of him that Fourth's time, 'twas said ; and how could conceived Lear and Othello! Sirs, with I live in Harry Fourth's time that go not your leave we will now bid you farewell. back beyond Elizabeth ? though the Sir Thomas. Nay, I pray you that we Thynnes were well thought on afore that, part not so. I beseech you, Master Ra
leigh, and you, Master Drayton, that you Sir Thomas. Well, sir, I have ne'er lie this night at Charlecote. I would seen the play, and love not players. I have you home to supper, and thank you, ever noted that when they came to Strat- too, for your good company. ford there was new business for the jus- Thynne. And I, sirs, have a poor house tices. The idle sort grew idler — they of mine own within these dozen miles, drew others on to join them that would and thof I be not a knight like my cousin else have been better conducted — there Lucy here, yet I can lodge a guest as well was less work, more drink, and more dis- as some ; now that my mother be dead, I order. I could never away with the play- live as befits a gentleman, good sooth, ers, sir; and I was heartily with those and I would bid you welcome truly, now, who were for inhibiting their theatre in and show you a mastiff that hath lost an Stratford.
eye by a bear. Thynne. And I too, Cousin Lucy, I care Drayton. Sir, I thank you. For your
good kindness, Sir Thomas, we are be*"Merry Wives of Windsor.'
holden to you ; but, pray you, let us stand
excused. Master Raleigh hath business Raleigh. His attire doth not bespeak that
much wealth. That old gown were deur Raleigh. Nay, Master Drayton, that at two shillings, fur trimmings and all ; business we had is sadly ended, and our nay, 'twere a fair price even were the velwhole journey marred. With your good vet cap and copper spectacles thrown into leave, therefore, I would rejoice that we the bargain. should take Sir Thomas at his word. Drayton. Soft you, he comes.
Sir Thomas. By my troth, sirs, I am Sherlock. Sirs, your servant. What glad on't, and you shall be heartily wel- would you ?
We'll e'en meet here at four o'the Drayton. Marry this, Master Sherlock clock, and ye shall find wherewithal to bear me you remember — Michael Drayton you and your mails to Charlecote.
we have had some small dealings toRaleigh. Till then, farewell. (To Drayton gether of yore. as they go out.) Seest thou not, Master Sherlock. Ay, sir, I forget none who Michael, that to sit in Master Shallow's deal with me. house, perchance in his very arbour * Drayton (aside). Nor they thee, I'll be to eat a pippin, maybe, of his own graffing sworn. (To Sherlock.) But thus it is
- to look on his effigy, clad as he went to my friend here, Master Raleigh, hath had the Court with Falstaff - were a chance a manor in Surrey assigned* him by his that would lead me to journey barefoot father, Sir Walter, and having pressing in the snow to Charlecote ? For being need of monies, inasmuch as he hath here in the birthplace (alas ! now the been appointed captain in a force which death-place) of him I so reverenced, what will shortly embark for Guiana, whereof better tribute can I pay (now that nought Sir Walter is chief commander, he would but his memory is left for our worship) raise a sum thereon to furnish him forth. than, even as thou saidst but now, to Sherlock. Be there none in London that trace the begettings of those bright fan-would lend him the monies ? cies which he hath embalmed for ever? Drayton. Certes; but he goeth now
Drayton. You look on these things, into Devonshire, and his need is pressWalter, as I would have you look; a true ing. disciple art thou of him whom we shall Sherlock. His need is pressing — well, always love and always mourn, and gladly sir ? will I go with thee to Charlecote. And now, Drayton. To which end he would be ere we stand by that greedy grave that is beholden to you for a present loan. presently to swallow so huge a part of Sherlock. For a present loan — well, what is precious in England, we will see sir ? to that other business of thine, the rais- Drayton (aside to Raleigh). Mark you ing of money for thee. 'Tis but a step, his manner of speech ? 'twas ever thus as I remember, to Master Sherlock's with him. (To Sherlock.) And for secuhouse. Now I pray thee mark that old rity he hath brought the writings pertainman well --and if we deal not with him, ing to the estate ; till thou canst prove as is likely, 'tis no matter, for I can which to be sufficient, myself will be his take thee elsewhere ; but I would thou surety. shouldst see old Master Sherlock.
Raleigh. These be they.
Sherlock. These parchments, these SCENE II. — Master Sherlock's counting-house. parchments — ay, ay — Manor of West SHERLOCK sitting at his desk in an inner room. Horsley - all those messuages and tenEnter DRAYTON and RALEIGH.
ements -ay, ay. Well, sir, time is needDrayton (aside to Raleigh). Dost thou ed to examine these; what monies dost not spy in him a likeness to an old spi- thou require ? der, black, still, and watchful, and in that Raleigh. In brief, four hundred pounds. money-changing den to a cob-web ? Sherlock. Four hundred pounds-well ? There be many flies have suffered loss of Raleigh. If upon inquiry and advice wings here.
the security satisfy thee, at what rate of Raleigh. How old and bent he looks ! usance wilt thou lend me ? and, but that he be a money-lender, I Sherlock. Rate of usance ? — why, sir, should have deemed him poor.
money is hard to come by at this time; Drayton. Nay, 'tis not a spider of the sleek sort – blood-sucking hath not fat- * An estate in Devonshire, thus assigned to him sextened him as it doth some.
eral years before, had been confiscated by James I.
† Sir Walter's second son afterwards lived here, and
his arms long remained (perhaps still remain) on the • See "Second Part of King Henry IV.," act v. sc. 3.
we have suffered great fires in our town, Sherlock. She made her own bed when and money hath been needed for the re- she fled from this house twenty years building; the rate hath risen of late agone with young Visor. Let her lie on and there is talk of war with Spain, which it, and if she find it hard, let her see that will raise it further. I must myself bor- she complain not. The curse of disoberow ere I lend, and must needs pay dience hath been on her. roundly. I cannot supply you at a less Drayton. Well, sir, she hath paid for yearly rate than fifteen in the hundred. that long ago, if misery may pay it. She
Drayton. Nay, sir, my friend's need is looks like one that the world hath done not so great that he should pay so dearly. its worst on, and is ready to quit it. He laid his account for ten, and by my Sherlock. Sir, sir, I had thought you. counsel he will give no more — for, look came here on a business matter. I have you, this is no venture, but a surety, somewhat pressing to see to.
Sherlock. Then, I fear me, we deal not; Drayton. One word, Master Sherlock. but I will look into these writings — ’tis Her eldest son, your grandson, is a lad of possible I may be able to lend at fourteen promise, and for education she hath done and a half.
what she may for him ; but I heard of Drayton. Put up your papers, Walter, late that he was driven to hold horses in we will make other shift. This was but the market-place, and such chance-shifts, part of our business in Stratford, Master for a bare living. Sherlock; our intent was to visit your Sherlock. Let his father look to it; he most illustrious townsman, and now, woe took my daughter — let him look to his the day! we hear he is dead.
son - let him look to his son. (To RaSherlock. Ay, who may he be ? leigh.) Will it please you leave the writ
Raleigh. Who but Master Shakespeare, ings ? for whose burial you will straightway hear Drayton. Her daughter, near womanthe bell toll.
hood, is fair to look on, but Sherlock. I heard say he was dead. Sherlock. Hast thou been set on to Raleigh. Didst not know him ? this? Your pardon if I quit you. Sherlock. We had dealings together
[Retires into the inner room. years agone -- ay, he hath had money of me more than once or twice; but he con; breathe again, now we are quit of that
Raleigh. Come, let us away. So, I sorted with mine enemy, John-a-Combe,t den. I have heard of such' Aints, but and we would none of each other after.
ne'er saw one till now. Drayton. I knew not John-a-Combe
Drayton. So thou carest not for his was the enemy of any man.
money at fifteen in the hundred ? Sherlock. He was mine enemy in the
Raleigh. Were't five I would not deal sense that he hindered my dealings. This Shakespeare, too, outbid me for the been cut in human shape and possessed
with him. 'Tis a stone, sure, that hath tithes I when they were sold. I had been by some vile spirit from the nether world, a richer man had'he died a dozen years I almost marvel, Master Michael, that agone. I spend not, therefore, much sor- thou broughtst me to him. row on him.
Drayton. Why, was it not of our comRaleigh. Why, this comes nigh to blas
pact that I should show thee some of the phemy — let us be gone.
models whence our master drew ? Drayton. Well, God be with
Raleigh. Models ? how, Sherlock ? ter Sherlock, — (aside) though I fear that
Yet that name. Soft you, now, soft you ! may hardly be.
Come, Walter. But, And money-lender, too. And then his Master Sherlock, a moment, I pray you; daughter – why, Master Michael, 'tis I saw your daughter, Mistress Visor, of
clear as the sun - it runs on all-fours late. Sherlock. My daughter, Mistress Visor, that thou gav'st me the clue, I might
with the devil in the play; and yet, but
have borrowed money from him twenty Drayton. A woman, sir, that is held in
Well, thi much respect, though not for her worldly means. In truth, she hath but a sorry life of it.
SCENE III. The Churchyard of Stratford. A • There had been a conflagration in Stratford in 1614,
crowd waiting about the gate. which had destroyed a great part of the town. John-a-Combe was a rich banker in Stratford, and First Woman. Didst not hear
there a friend of Shakespeare, to whom he left a small legacy: would be a dole ? I see no signs of it.
Shakespeare invested a considerable sum in a lease of these tithes.
Second Woman. 'Twas too good to be
true ; comfort is chary of coming to poor fame is of a kind to be felt by such as folk.
these, though were he a commander who First Man. I have been here since one had brought home a Spanish galleon, or a o' the clock, and with a toothache, for courtier who had set the fashions at Whitewhich thou seest my face is tied up, and hall, or a foolish lord with fifty retainers at the wind is keen.' I had stayed within his back, no cap so greasy but it would four walls but for the word that went cover an idolater. But let us mark what about of a dole.
passes 'twixt the townsfolk and this old First Woman. Thou look'st none the beadle who cometh hither with his older comelier, Peter Quince, for the clout satellite. about thy yellow chaps, like a blue dish Enter a Beadle and Assistant-Beadle with Ser. full of butter-milk.
vants bearing baskets. Second Man. Thou shouldst have covered the rest of thy face with it, Peter,
Assist.-Beadle. Neighbours, make way, then wouldst thou have been fairer to I pray you ; stand aside from the gates. look on than e'er thou wert yet.
Crowd. The dole, the dole ! Good MasSecond Woman. I'll warrant thou eat- ter Beadle, a word with you — me, sirs, est thy share when thou getst it, crust
- look hither, 'tis I, &c. and all, in despite of thy toothache.
First Beadle. What consternation is Peter Quince. Look is here be not lame here! Make not such a clamour. We Davy, coming for the sharing; how his are charged, I and my partner, with the crutch thumps in 's haste! - do but mark contribution of this dole, and we will conhow he outspeeds blind Harry that feeleth tribute it without respect of persons, save his way by the wall.
that we will give most to those we think Second Man. Ay, and look, Madge, my most worthy. Stand you back, Quince buxom lass, at what will please thee bet- and Flute. ter, for here come gentlemen of worship.
Quince. Yet do not overlook me, good Madge. The younger is as gallant a
Master Beadle. youth as e'er I set eyes on.
Flute. Remember me, an't please you,
Master Derrick. [The bell tolls for the funeral.
Assist.-Beadle. Heard you not what Enter DRAYTON and RALEIGH.
Master Derrick said ? Would you set Raleigh.
yourselves to teach him in this business? No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Beadle. Ay, would they, such is their Than ye shall hear the surly sullen bell
vanity and their greediness. It might be Give warning to the world ihat I am fled. *
thought they had ne'er seen a funeral beHow strange sound these words of his, fore. When did any of you know me with that bell for commentary! How his overlook one that should be remembered ? own phrases rise to the lips!
Have I been beadle here forty years for Drayton. Ay, Walter, you shall find nought? but few occasions in life, solemn or mer- Assist.-Beadle. Ye dare not say he ry, regarding which something apt, some- hath for your lives. thing that goes deeper than common to Crowd. The bread ! the bread ! the heart of the matter, hath not been Beadle. 'Ods my life, they would tear it said by him that is now silent.
out of the baskets, like wolves. NeighRaleigh. One that reads him as a stu- bours, though it be customary to give dent, and lovingly, as my father from my loaves only, yet Master Shakespeare, first youth hath taught me to do, and hath out of his love for you, and because ye moreover a good memory, shall find in should mourn him fittingly, hath desired him (my father is wont to say) a rich vo- that beef should be bestowed along with cabulary. But mark you the crowd here ! the bread. 'tis the spontaneous respect of the peo- Several. Worthy gentleman ! ple for so famous a townsman. Now First Woman. O, good soul, this shall look I to see (what we have not yet seen) profit him, sure, where he's gone. the sorrow of Stratford for the loss of
Second Womau. Nay, I ever said there her great son. As the sun lights the were none in Stratford more rememberhovel no less than the palace, so should ful of the poor than Master Shakespeare. his fame reach to, and warm, the poorest Assist.-Beadle. Ay, and more than that, here.
there be four firkins of ale to be broached Drayton. Be not too assured that his after the burial, behind the church.
Beadle. Neighbour Turgis, wilt thou • The opening lines of Shakespeare's 71st Sonnet. still go about to forestall me? I was