Shakespeare would cast at him out of 's eye a merry glint. "Hast thou thy plate yet?" Master Ben would ask me, "and the tapestry of thy dining chambers? Come, let us have Doll Tearsheet meet us at supper." "O Lord, sir," would I say, "I know no Dolls nor Tearsheets neither; but 'twas a merry man, I warrant you, tho' I did never know what his meaning was. into a Roman or ancient Briton, a lover or a king, a conspirator or a jester, compounded part of fact, part of fancy, yet would the morsel of fact leaven the whole with truth. Raleigh. Was this Sir Thomas Lucy he whom the world calls Justice Shallow? Drayton. Nay, he hath been dead these many years this is his son; but the companion that's with him thou mayst Drayton. These memories of thine chance to have heard of. breed but sad mirth in me now. Hostess. Well-a-day, if there be not Sir Thomas and Master Thynne, rid from Charlecote, and alighting. By your leave, kind sirs, I will go receive them. [She goes out. Drayton. Dear Walter, this stroke is so sudden that it bewilders me; methinks I am dreaming; I discourse, remember, reason, and so forth, and yet my brain all the while wrapt as in a cerement. Coming here with my thoughts full of him, sitting in this room where he and I have sat so oft, what could seem less strange than that he could enter and greet me; and yet a little word hath made me know that to be impossible for all time. Raleigh. Ay, sir, amidst my own pain I remember how you have been familiar with that divinest man, and must feel a far deeper sorrow than myself, that know him but in the picture my imagination hath formed; and I perceive by the blank made in mine own present, what a void must be left in yours. Would you have us quit Stratford forthwith? Enter SIR THOMAS LUCY and MASTER Hostess. Wilt please you walk this way, Sir Thomas? This chamber is warmer, and the day is fresh. There be here, sirs, none but these two gentlemen. Sir Thomas. Master Drayton, as I remember me. You are of our county of Warwickshire, I think, sir? Drayton. I am so, Sir Thomas, at your service. Give me leave to bring you acquainted with my friend and comrade in travel, Master Walter Raleigh. Raleighs of Devonshire, mayhap? Raleigh. The same, Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas. An honourable family, sir, and one that hath borne itself among the best these many reigns past. You quarter the arms of Throckmorton, as I bend argent, and your cognizance a stag; think, sir-you bear gules, five fusils, in or is't a martlet ? Raleigh. I knew not we, being but simple gentlemen, and out of favour, were of that mark that our quarterings should be thus well known. Sir Thomas. I am something of a herthinks 'twere well that men of quality ald, I would have you know, sir. Meof all the rest, making as 'twere one famwere familiar each with the pretensions Drayton. Nay, by no means; let us rather give our sorrow somewhat to feed on; let us fill it with the sad memories that abound here. For, to me, everything in Stratford speaks of Shakespeare; 'twas here he lived while that unmatched apprehension was most waxlike to receive impressions, when wonder and observa-ily in condition: thus should we at once tion were quickest in him; and 'twas here he began to fill a storehouse from whence to draw at will. For his manner was always to build on a ground of fact, or, rather, to sow fact like a seed, and let it strike in that rich soil till ofttimes none but himself could tell (even if himself could) what the ripened fruit had sprung from. Sometimes he would limn a man know who are of the better, who of the baser sort. And so, sir, of the leisure I spare from mine office as justice of the peace, and from mine own concerns, I give somewhat to heraldry. Drayton. I perceive by the sad hue of your garments that you design to be present at Master Shakespeare's funeral. 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 himing it and transforming it, yet ever work- self, and held him in esteem. ing even as nature works, that the citizen of Stratford or Warwick would grow Charlecote, still the family seat of the Lucys, is some four miles from Stratford. whole world should honour such worth as Raleigh. 'Tis as it should be - the his. Sir Thomas. Nay, good sir, I go not so far with you: though he were indeed so honourable that his neighbours, even of condition, may well accord him a last show of respect. not for the play, though, good sooth, I liked it well enough. But give me for 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 love the bear-garden man and boy, I ever loved it; 'tis the rarest sport, in good sooth, now. eration. Sir Thomas. Why, for that, Master Drayton, in respect of the deer-stealing, 'twas not such a matter as is ne'er to be forgiven nor forgotten; he was but a youth then, and he suffered for't; and, for the scurril ballad concerning which the rumor went 'twas writ by Shakespeare, why, 'twas none of his. Drayton. I'll be sworn 'twas not. Know we not the hand of the master better than to take such 'prentice-stuff for his? As well affirm that a daw's feather may drop from an eagle. Sir Thomas. Nay, sir, I have better assurance; he himself, of his own motion, told my father (and hath repeated it to myself) that he ne'er wrote it. Drayton. He hath told me the same -and for the plays Sir Thomas. For the plays wherein 'twas said he drew my father, 'twas idle gossip. How should a Gloucestershire justice, one Shallow (for such I am told is what passes for the portrait), represent Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote in Warwickshire? * Thynne. 'Twas said, too, that he had set me down along with mine uncle. By the mass! I should not care though it had been so; for I saw the play once in London, and Master Slender was a gentleman, and an esquire, and of good means, though the people did laugh, I know not why, at some of his discourse. But he and the rest lived in Harry Fourth's time, 'twas said; and how could I live in Harry Fourth's time that go not back beyond Elizabeth? though the Thynnes were well thought on afore that, look you. Drayton. Methought, Sir Thomas, when you talked of honouring my dear friend, 'twas for his works. Sir Thomas. Nay, sir, I make no account of his works, and, indeed, know nought of them. He has won a good station, and maintained it, and therefore he should have his due. Drayton. For his descent, that, as all men know, was not above humble citizen's degree. Sir Thomas. His mother was an Arden; and his father was granted a coat of arms by the College, a spear or, upon a bend sable, in a field of gold - the crest, a falcon with his wings displayed, standing on a wreath of his colours, supporting a spear; and he might impale with Arden. And the gentleman himself hath for years been of good havings, with lands and houses, and of good repute in all his dealings; therefore, say I, that we who be neighbours and gentlemen, should have him in respect. Thynne. Yea, forsooth! gentlemen should give to other gentlemen (thof they be new-made and quarter not) what countenance they may, for their better advantage, and to maintain them in consideration, look you, and to prosper them; and therefore 'tis we come to make two at the burial. Raleigh. O ye gods! this of him that conceived Lear and Othello! Sirs, with your leave we will now bid you farewell. Sir Thomas. Nay, I pray you that we part not so. I beseech you, Master Raleigh, and you, Master Drayton, that you lie this night at Charlecote. I would have you home to supper, and thank you, too, for your good company. Sir Thomas. Well, sir, I have ne'er seen the play, and love not players. I ever noted that when they came to Stratford 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 "Merry Wives of Windsor.' Drayton. Sir, I thank you. For your good kindness, Sir Thomas, we are beholden to you; but, pray you, let us stand excused. Master Raleigh hath business that Raleigh. Nay, Master Drayton, that business we had is sadly ended, and our whole journey marred. With your good leave, therefore, I would rejoice that we should take Sir Thomas at his word. Sir Thomas. By my troth, sirs, I am glad on't, and you shall be heartily welcome. We'll e'en meet here at four o' the clock, and ye shall find wherewithal to bear you and your mails to Charlecote. Raleigh. Till then, farewell. (To Drayton as they go out.) Seest thou not, Master Michael, that to sit in Master Shallow's house, perchance in his very arbour * to eat a pippin, maybe, of his own graffing to look on his effigy, clad as he went to the Court with Falstaff- were a chance that would lead me to journey barefoot in the snow to Charlecote? For being here in the birthplace (alas! now the death-place) of him I so reverenced, what better tribute can I pay (now that nought but his memory is left for our worship) than, even as thou saidst but now, to trace the begettings of those bright fancies which he hath embalmed for ever? Drayton. You look on these things, Walter, as I would have you look; a true disciple art thou of him whom we shall always love and always mourn, and gladly | will I go with thee to Charlecote. And now, ere we stand by that greedy grave that is presently to swallow so huge a part of what is precious in England, we will see to that other business of thine, the raising of money for thee. 'Tis but step, as I remember, to Master Sherlock's house. Now I pray thee mark that old man well and if we deal not with him, as is likely, 'tis no matter, for I can take thee elsewhere; but I would thou shouldst see old Master Sherlock. SCENE II. Master Sherlock's counting-house. SHERLOCK sitting at his desk in an inner room. Enter DRAYTON and RAleigh. Drayton (aside to Raleigh). Dost thou not spy in him a likeness to an old spider, black, still, and watchful, and in that money-changing den to a cob-web? There be many flies have suffered loss of wings here. Raleigh. How old and bent he looks! and, but that he be a money-lender, I should have deemed him poor. Drayton. Nay, 'tis not a spider of the sleek sort- blood-sucking hath not fat tened him as it doth some. Raleigh. His attire doth not bespeak much wealth. That old gown were dear at two shillings, fur trimmings and all; nay, 'twere a fair price even were the velvet cap and copper spectacles thrown into the bargain. Drayton. Soft you, he comes. Sherlock. Sirs, your servant. What would you? Drayton. Marry this, Master Sherlock me you remember - Michael Drayton --we have had some small dealings together of yore. Sherlock. Ay, sir, I forget none who deal with me. Drayton (aside). Nor they thee, I'll be sworn. (To Sherlock.) But thus it ismy friend here, Master Raleigh, hath had a manor in Surrey assigned him by his father, Sir Walter, and having pressing need of monies, inasmuch as he hath been appointed captain in a force which will shortly embark for Guiana, whereof Sir Walter is chief commander, he would raise a sum thereon to furnish him forth. Sherlock. Be there none in London that would lend him the monies? Drayton. Certes; but he goeth now into Devonshire, and his need is pressing. Sherlock. His need is pressing—well, sir? Drayton. To which end he would be beholden to you for a present loan. Sherlock. For a present loan — well, sir? Drayton (aside to Raleigh). Mark you his manner of speech? 'twas ever thus with him. (To Sherlock.) And for security he hath brought the writings pertain ing to the estate; till thou canst prove which to be sufficient, myself will be his surety. Raleigh. These be they. Sherlock. These parchments, these parchments - ay, ay- Manor of West Horsley t-all those messuages and tenements ay, ay. Well, sir, time is needed to examine these; what monies dost thou require? Raleigh. In brief, four hundred pounds. Sherlock. Four hundred pounds-well? Raleigh. If upon inquiry and advice the security satisfy thee, at what rate of usance wilt thou lend me ? Sherlock. Rate of usance?—why, sir, money is hard to come by at this time; * An estate in Devonshire, thus assigned to him sev eral years before, had been confiscated by James I. t 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. walls. we have suffered great fires in our town,' and money hath been needed for the rebuilding; the rate hath risen of late and there is talk of war with Spain, which will raise it further. I must myself borrow ere I lend, and must needs pay roundly. I cannot supply you at a less yearly rate than fifteen in the hundred. Drayton. Nay, sir, my friend's need is not so great that he should pay so dearly. He laid his account for ten, and by my counsel he will give no more — for, look you, this is no venture, but a surety. Sherlock. Then, I fear me, we deal not; but I will look into these writings-'tis possible I may be able to lend at fourteen and a half. Drayton. Put up your papers, Walter, we will make other shift. This was but part of our business in Stratford, Master Sherlock; our intent was to visit your most illustrious townsman, and now, woe the day! we hear he is dead. Sherlock. Ay, who may he be? Raleigh. Who but Master Shakespeare, for whose burial you will straightway hear the bell toll. Sherlock. I heard say he was dead. Raleigh. Didst not know him? Sherlock. We had dealings together years agone―ay, he hath had money of me more than once or twice; but he consorted with mine enemy, John-a-Combe,t and we would none of each other after. Drayton. I knew not John-a-Combe was the enemy of any man. Sherlock. She made her own bed when she fled from this house twenty years agone with young Visor. Let her lie on it, and if she find it hard, let her see that she complain not. The curse of disobedience hath been on her. Drayton. Well, sir, she hath paid for that long ago, if misery may pay it. She looks like one that the world hath done its worst on, and is ready to quit it. Sherlock. Sir, sir, I had thought you. came here on a business matter. I have somewhat pressing to see to. Drayton. One word, Master Sherlock. Her eldest son, your grandson, is a lad of promise, and for education she hath done what she may for him; but I heard of late that he was driven to hold horses in the market-place, and such chance-shifts, for a bare living. Sherlock. Let his father look to it; he took my daughter- let him look to his son -let him look to his son. (To Raleigh.) Will it please you leave the writings? Drayton. Her daughter, near womanhood, is fair to look on, but Sherlock. Hast thou been set on to this? Your pardon if I quit you. [Retires into the inner room. Raleigh. Come, let us away. So, I breathe again, now we are quit of that den. I have heard of such flints, but ne'er saw one till now. Drayton. So thou carest not for his money at fifteen in the hundred ?. Sherlock. He was mine enemy in the sense that he hindered my dealings. This with him. 'Tis a stone, sure, that hath Raleigh. Were't five I would not deal Shakespeare, too, outbid me for the been cut in human shape and possessed tithes 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. late. Sherlock. My daughter, Mistress Visor, ay! Drayton. A woman, sir, that is held in much respect, though not for her worldly means. In truth, she hath but a sorry life of it. There had been a conflagration in Stratford in 1614, which had destroyed a great part of the town. ↑ John-a-Combe was a rich banker in Stratford, and a friend of Shakespeare, to whom he left a small legacy. Shakespeare invested a considerable sum in a lease of these tithes. Drayton. Why, was it not of our compact that I should show thee some of the models whence our master drew? Raleigh. Models? how, Sherlock? Yet that name. Soft you, now, soft you! And money-lender, too. And then his daughter-why, Master Michael, 'tis clear as the sun it runs on all-fours that thou gav'st me the clue, Í might with the devil in the play; and yet, but have borrowed money from him twenty years without guessing. Well, this passes! SCENE III. The Churchyard of Stratford. A crowd waiting about the gate. First Woman. Didst not hear say there would be a dole? I see no signs of it. 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. Second Man. Thou shouldst have covered the rest of thy face with it, Peter, then wouldst thou have been fairer to look on than e'er thou wert yet. these, though were he a commander who had brought home a Spanish galleon, or a courtier who had set the fashions at Whitehall, or a foolish lord with fifty retainers at his back, no cap so greasy but it would cover an idolater. But let us mark what passes 'twixt the townsfolk and this old beadle who cometh hither with his older satellite. Enter a Beadle and Assistant-Beadle with Servants bearing baskets. Assist.-Beadle. Neighbours, make way, I pray you; stand aside from the gates. Crowd. The dole, the dole! Good Mas Second Woman. I'll warrant thou eat-ter Beadle, a word with you-me, sirs, est thy share when thou getst it, crust me-look hither, 'tis I, &c. and all, in despite of thy toothache. Peter Quince. Look if here be not lame Davy, coming for the sharing; how his crutch thumps in 's haste! - do but mark how he outspeeds blind Harry that feeleth his way by the wall. Second Man. Ay, and look, Madge, my buxom lass, at what will please thee better, for here come gentlemen of worship. Madge. The younger is as gallant a youth as e'er I set eyes on. [The bell tolls for the funeral. Enter DRAYTON and RALleigh. Raleigh. No longer mourn for me when I am dead How strange sound these words of his, with that bell for commentary! How his own phrases rise to the lips! Drayton. Ay, Walter, you shall find but few occasions in life, solemn or merry, regarding which something apt, something that goes deeper than common to the heart of the matter, hath not been said by him that is now silent. Raleigh. One that reads him as a student, and lovingly, as my father from my first youth hath taught me to do, and hath moreover a good memory, shall find in him (my father is wont to say) a rich vocabulary. But mark you the crowd here! 'tis the spontaneous respect of the people for so famous a townsman. Now look I to see (what we have not yet seen) the sorrow of Stratford for the loss of her great son. As the sun lights the hovel no less than the palace, so should his fame reach to, and warm, the poorest here. Drayton. Be not too assured that his * The opening lines of Shakespeare's 71st Sonnet. First Beadle. What a consternation is here! Make not such a clamour. We are charged, I and my partner, with the contribution of this dole, and we will contribute it without respect of persons, save that we will give most to those we think most worthy. Stand you back, Quince and Flute. Quince. Yet do not overlook me, good Master Beadle. Flute. Remember me, an't please you, Master Derrick. Assist.-Beadle. Heard you not what Master Derrick said? Would you set yourselves to teach him in this business? Beadle. Ay, would they, such is their vanity and their greediness. It might be thought they had ne'er seen a funeral before. When did any of you know me overlook one that should be remembered? Have I been beadle here forty years for nought? Assist.-Beadle. Ye dare not say he hath for your lives. Crowd. The bread! the bread! Beadle. 'Ods my life, they would tear it out of the baskets, like wolves. Neighbours, though it be customary to give loaves only, yet Master Shakespeare, out of his love for you, and because ye should mourn him fittingly, hath desired that beef should be bestowed along with the bread. Several. Worthy gentleman! First Woman. O, good soul, this shall profit him, sure, where he's gone. Second Womau. Nay, I ever said there were none in Stratford more rememberful of the poor than Master Shakespeare. Assist.-Beadle. Ay, and more than that, there be four firkins of ale to be broached after the burial, behind the church. Beadle. Neighbour Turgis, wilt thou still go about to forestall me? I was |