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coming to the ale presently, when time dles is Shakespeare's own man Adam. 1 fitted. Do thou stand by the baskets and will speak to him. This is a sharp sungive out the dole as I shall tell thee. dering for thee, Adam. Leave thy basHast thou the bag of groats ready, too ? ket. Step aside, and speak with me of thy Assist.-Beadle. Yea, Master Derrick. good master.
Adam. ( Master Drayton, I looked [They distribute the provisions and money th:
that he should bury me : would I were Flute. Shall I not have a loaf and a with him! Were I young, I could ne'er groat for my wife ? She hath had twins hope to see such another master; and bethis morning, therefore could not come. ing old, I have no desire but to follow
Old Woman. Thy wife, forsooth! - him. my son hath worked at New Place, and Drayton. Was his sickness sudden ? helped to mend the fence i'th' garden Adam. Nay, sir, - I have foreboded, last winter, and now is he rheumaticky this many a day, how 'twas with him. He and bed-rid. A dole for him, I pray you, hath pined and dwindled, and then again sweet Master Derrick.
he hath mended for a while and would Beadle. Be not too forward, woman; walk abroad ; and ever with a kind word thou art not too well thought on, I war- and a jest, as was his wont. But I found, rant thee.
from day to day, his step slower, his hand Old Woman. Is acquaintance and ser-heavier on my shoulder, his breath shorter. vice to count for nought ? — 'tis a shame, Drayton. Did himself look for his end? then.
Adam. Ay, sir; but made as though he Beadle. Quiet thy tongue, mistress; it had a long to-come before him. Four may be I shall be called on to deal with days since ('twas o' Sunday) he said to thee in other fashion than doles. Thou me, “ Adam, I have a fancy about my art deputed by many for a witch, let me burial; but say nought of it as yet to my tell thee; thou art suspect of keeping a daughter. I have here set down the toad, and, moreover, 'tis thought thou hast names of those I desire to bear me to the a familiar, one Hopdance. * (To another.) grave; ” which he thereupon read to me, But wherefore hangst thou back, Cicely and they are even now in the house, makHacket,t thou that wast once a maid-ser-ling ready. vant at New Place ? Press nearer, and Drayton. Some of note and condition, hold out thine apron.
mayhap ? Cicely. Oh, sir, I came not here for the Adam. Not so, not so, not so, Master dole, but indeed to see the last of him Drayton ; there art thou wide indeed of who hath been ever kind to me and the mark. Never trod man among men mine.
who looked on gentle and simple with a Beadle. The more reason thou shouldst I more equal brotherly eye than Master have thy part. Let her do so, Goodman Shakespeare. A fine coat or a ragged
Turgis, for thou knowst that she that jerkin made no more difference in a man, humbleth herself should be exhorted; in his eyes, than whether his hair were and 'twere not ill, methinks, if thou gav'st black or brown. Nay, strange to tell of a her, moreover, a share for her sick moth-man of his gifts, he seemed oft to find as er.' (Calling through the gate to boys in much matter in a fool as in a wise man ; the churchyard.) Young fry, wilt thou he would take pleasure in discoursing leave leaping over the gravestones ? else with many a one of this town that simple shall my staff and thy backs be better ac- I would have fubbed off as a lackwit. So quainted. I see thee, young Pickbone, he saith to me, “ First have I set down, drumming with thine heels on Mistress to carry the head of my coffin, Hugh BarKeech's epithet ; come off the stone, or dolph and Corporal Nym,” * poor men, 'twill be worse for thee, thou naughty var- both, Master Drayton. Bardolph, one of let - and thy tall slip of a sister, too, I many of the name here, was a tapster ; saw her but now up with her coats and Nym, a pensioner of the Earl of Leicester, over the railing of yonder tomb like any lin whose army he served in the Low stag.
Countries, though I did never hear with Prayton (to Raleigh). The oldest of much credit. these servants that came with the bea- Raleigh. Bardolph and Nym! O brave
Shakespeare ! • “Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white her Adam. “Next,” he saith, “I have set rings. Croak not, black angel!” Edgar eigning down John Rugby and James Gurney," madness) in "King Lear."
+ Cicely Hacket, described by Sly as “the woman's maid of the house," in the “Tamning of the Shrew."
See “King Henry V."
ancient serving-men, your worships, and Assist-Beadle. I will govern myself as now almsmen.
thou desirest, good neighbour. Drayton. Whom in his plays he hath Adam. I have here herbs, for those allotted, Rugby to Dr. Caius *
who will bear them at the funeral. Will Raleigh. Gurney to the Lady Falcon- ye have cypress or rosemary, sirs? bridge.f
Drayton. Thanks, good Adam ; we Adam. “ After them Thomas Wart" an will bear each a branch of cypress, and old fetcher of this town, sir —
will long wear it in our hearts, too. Raleigh. One of Falstaff's ragged re-[The Beadles and Servants depart for New Place. cruits he —
Drayton and Raleigh pass into the Church. Adam. “ And Kit Sly. And, to end yard. the company, Snug the joiner,f and Nick
Drayton. Bottom " -- andthe list being thus Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; ended, my dear master laughed so long Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes and so merrily that I cried, “Sure one Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.* that can laugh so hath small need to name
[They enter the Church his bearers."
Raleigh. Truly did he make Romeo SCENE IV. – The inside of the Church. say
Raleigh. I have seen many a great caHow oft, when men were at the point of death, thedral, both in England and abroad, Have they been merry!
holding the bones of kings and saints and Adam. “ And be sure, Adam,” he said, heroes ; but never one that enshrines " that thou have old Derrick, and his an
errick, and his an- dust so sacred as will this we stand in. cient comrade Turgis, to give out the dole! Drayton. 'Tis a fair church, and our - and see it be of good kind and plenti- | poet might find many a less fitting restful.” And he charged me again I should ing-place than amid these pillars and not tell his daughter. Mistress Hall, of arches, with the plash of Avon for rethese dispositions - for wherefore, said I quiem. Yonder, before the altar, yawns he, should I add a few days, or hours, to the dark portal through which he will her grief ?
pass out of our sphere. (They approach Drayton. Derrick is now in the sixth | the grave.) What a wealth of ripened age, he is the slippered pantaloon; and thought will be summed up here ! what a Turgis toucheth on the seventh, that of
e Seventh that of world of promise is the future robbed of! second childishness and mere oblivion, This grave divides us not from one man, yet are they still the shadows of that pair, but from unnumbered men and women whom men shall long smile at.
that might have taught and delighted us; Beadle. Hath every one his portion ?
it engulfs not one life but a multitude of Assist.-Beadle. Yea, Master Derrick.
unacted lives with their passions and viBeadle. Then give what's over how you cissitudes ; here will pass away not a solwill, and make an end shortly, for we are litary figure but a pageant. It may be needed at New Place.
that, so long as Time hath dominion here, Drayton. Do you walk in the proces- he will never spare such another spirit to sion, Master Beadle ?
eternity. Beadle. Of a surety, worshipful sir. Raleigh. Here doth the poet fulfil the The funeral might as well make shift I prophecy he made through the mouth of without the coffin as without me and my | Prospero, that other enchanter : partner; we walk before choir and par
I'll break my staff, son, at the head of the train ; we be its Bury it certain fathoms of the earth, eyebrows. And, neighbour Turgis, if And deeper than did ever plummet sound, thou shouldst walk half a foot or so to I'll drown my book! the rearward of me, 'twould be forgiven
[Chanting heard in the distance. thee, for so would the people on both
Drayton. Those choristers tell us that sides the way have me in view; and thou, he is on his last journey ; let us go meet neighbour, art old and moreover small the funeral train. —and feeble, moreover - and thy port
[They pass out into the porch. The Funeral monial, the gifts for which are, in truth,
approaches the gate of the Churchyard. The
Beadles walk first, the Choristers, in white not given to all.
robes, and the Minister follow, preceding the # "Merry Wives of Windsor."
Coffin; then the mourners, two and two, each + “King John." “Midsummer Night's Dream."
• "King Richard II.," act iii. sc. 2.
bearing a branch of yew, cypress, or rosemary, with flushed, tear-bedewed face (yet with in one hand, a taper in the other. As the a corner of an eye to beholders, methinks) Choristers enter the Churchyard they begin to his other and younger daughter, the buxsing the following :-)
om Judith, married, 'tis two months since, FUNERAL HYMN.
to that comfortable vintner, Master
Quiney, who trieth vainly to cover his I.
natural contentment with a decorous Part of our hearts thou bear'st with thee
mask of woe. To silence and to dust, Fond hopes that now must withered be,
Raleigh. And who handleth his taper Unfading love and trust;
and his branch as 'twere a bottle and a So thou wilt lie not all alone
glass. Sir Thomas and Master Thynne Beneath thy monumental stone.
I already know, but who are the next ?
Drayton. He with the shrewd pale face, II.
and bushy eyebrows is Julius Shaw, with No echoes of this fretful world,
whom walks jovial William Reynolds No glimmer of the day,
both friends and neighbours of ShakeCan reach thee, in thy shroud enfurled,
speare ; and after them come two other Thou canst not hear us pray, Nor seest our tears, nor heed'st our moan,
of his friends,- Antony Nash, whose Beneath thy monumental stone.
face of gloom is the endowment of na
ture, and lendeth poignancy to his many III.
jests — and Thomas Combe, son of JohnThe good thou didst thy brother here, a-Combe. The pair that follow are HamThe evil put aside,
net and Judith Sadler, the god-parents The victory gained o'er sloth and fear,
of Shakespeare's twin-children. And O'er avarice, hate, and pride,
marked you the austere aspect of the These make the wealth thou still canst own
minister? he is one of the Puritan Above thy monumental stone.
sort,* much thought of by the Halls, out IV.
of favour to whom he comes, doubtless, With these for warrant thou shalt go to do this office. The rest be town digniWhere sorrows enter not;
ties, as aldermen and burgesses, and other Still new thy paths, when here below
townsfolk. Thy sculptured name's forgot, The roof decayed, the grasses grown
[The Procession passes into the Church, Drayton Above thy monumental stone.
and Raleigh joining it, and the service begins.
After prayers at the grave, the Minister Raleigh. Methinks, Master Drayton, | Dreaches a short Sermo
preaches a short Sermon, which ends in this these verses might better befit some good wise :-) husband and father of the common sort, “So, friends, having essayed to draw than Shakespeare, whose glorious intel- from the presence of death in our midst lect, shining through his works, is his in- some matter for edification, I will speak a defeasible title to remembrance. To word of this particular brother who hath sing of him thus, is to speak of a falcon departed, dwelling, as is at these seasons and say nought of her wings ; to com- the custom, chiefly on what may do him mend Behemoth for other qualities than grace, and serve to sweeten his memory his strength; to sum up. Cæsar and for- in the nostrils of those whom he hath left get his universal empire.
still in the bonds of the flesh. And, first, Drayton. It is apparent, Walter, that of the fountain of his charities – it hath these good citizens believe they have in been known in Stratford for a perennial hand one who differs from them only in spring, abundant in refreshment to the that his steps have lain in paths apart poor, and in counsel and all good offices from theirs, even as an ostrich differs to those who needed countenance of from a swan in strangeness rather than another kind ; and if (as must be said in excellence. Therefore it may seem to were a man to speak truly) he ever rethem that this hymn, which hath, doubt
garded necessity more than deserving, less, heralded many an honest alderman and inquired not over closely into the way to his grave, may also serve very well for of life of those he relieved — nay, would Shakespeare.
ofttimes succour and comfort the godless Raleigh. Tell me of the mourners : no less than the godly, and bestow his who is she that stoops her long hood so bounty where it was like to be ill-spentlow between her taper and her branch of rosemary?
* Probably the same Preacher who is mentioned in Drayton. His daughter, Mistress Hall ; | old records of the Stratford Corpointion as having been beside whom walks her husband. Next, I a guest at New Place a year or two before.
yet is that to be accounted better than profess not to have that acquaintance the withholding altogether of alms, as with the writings called plays, nor poems some use. Next, of his excellent charity other than godly hymns, to judge his of another sort, I mean the brotherly re- handiwork), cannot be held profitable for lation he held with all conditions of men ; him that writes nor him that hears them. it hath been noted among you that he, And therefore, whatsoe'er of wit and who was used elsewhere to consort with sense they may contain must be acthe great, and hath been favoured even counted as water poured out on the sand, by princes, would yet converse with the which, better bestowed, might have sollowly on a general level of goodwill, as if aced the thirsty, and nourished the herbs the only apparel he took thought of were and the fruits, whereof many would have the skin we are all born with ; for which, eaten and been strengthened. But though indeed, he had great ensample. And, I may not altogether hold my peace on again, he hath ever gone among his fel- these matters, yet am I loth to dwell on lows with a cheerful spirit, so that his them at this time ; rather would I point presence hath been as wine among to the hope that our departed brother had, friends, and as oil among makebates in the soberer life he of late led among And though I dare not say that he in- you, put aside such toys as unworthy, clined of preference to the conversation and given us warrant to forget in him of the godly, nor could be counted of the their author, and, moreover, to believe fellowship of saints, nor even a favourer that, had he been spared unto us, he would of them, yet have I ever found him apt at have removed himself further, year by serious converse, courteous in bearing, year, from such vanities and lightnesses weighty in reply, and of unshakeable se- of his youth, until, haply, by the ensamrenity when I have adventured to press ple of a godly household, and the ministhe truth on him somewhat instantly ; in-trations of faithful expounders of God's somuch that I, whose vocation 'tis to bat-Word, he should have attained even to tle for the truth, have myself, ere now, the perfect day." been sore put to it to hold mine own, and
[The Sermon ended, the Coffin is borne to the found me in straits to oppose him, so nim
grave, the Minister and Mourners stand ble was his wit; though I doubt not that
around, the service is concluded, and all depart (the clear right being with me) I should,
from the Church.] with time for recollection, have had vouchsafed to me the wherewithal to give him sufficient answer. And it hath, at these
SCENE V. - The Street near New Place. times, seemed to me that he was a goodly Raleigh (hastening to rejoin Drayton). vessel full of merchandise, yet driven by Your pardon, sir, for seeming to forsake the wind apart from the port where alone you ; I did but stay to throw my branch her cargo could be bartered for that which of cypress into the grave, and have kept is bread; and I have travailed over him only this handful, which I will preserve as with a sore travail ; for I have hardly a memorial, and make of it an heirloom. doubted that, with such gifts, he might, But, Master Drayton, I had some ado to had it been so ordered, have justly as- refrain from answering that preacher even pired to be chief magistrate of your town, in the church ; for I have somewhat or even to serve you in Parliament; or of my father's bluntness, and cannot again, with diligent study and prayer, to abide that folly or conceit, in the guise become a preacher of weight, and have whether of honesty, or religion, or philstruck in the pulpit, a good stroke for osophy, should go unchallenged ; and God's honour and the devil's discomfiture. here was a man who, having the vision of But, alas ! it is known to all of you, and a mole, mistook Parnassus for a moleI dare not dissemble it, that his calling hill, and went about to measure it with hath been one that delighteth the car- his ell-wand, and even thought to do men nal-minded, and profiteth the idle, and service by persuading them that the maketh the godly sad of heart ; while, as golden lights and purple shadows of the for his talent, it hath been put out to use mountain, its fountains and dells, the forwhere the only return is the praise whichests that clothe it, the clouds that crown fleeteth as the bubble on the stream, and it, and the Muses that make it their the repute which perisheth as the leaves haunt, are all vain illusions together. of autumn ; for the making of rhymes and Drayton. You shall find, Master Walverses which flatter the ear, and the art ter, as you grow older, that all greatness of representing the vain shows of things, which is not gross and palpable doth rewhich, howe'er skilfully practised (and I | quire some keenness of vision to discern
it ; therefore doth fame ofttimes grow | Shakespeare's child. But what of the slowly, and from small beginnings, as wife who helped him to these daughters ? when a man notes, of a sudden, in the Drayton. 'Twas Shakespeare's mishap, else familiar aspect of the heavens, an sir (and I say it for your warning), to wed eclipse or a comet, and others gather to at an age when the fancy and heat of him, till the crowd swells, and the rumour youth o'ercrow the judgment. He had, goes abroad of a portent. And thus will seen few women, and none of the finest. it be with the fame of Shakespeare, who Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare's elder by had so much in common with common eight years, was buxom as Judith is now; men that they accounted him one of them- his fancy dressed her in qualities not selves, as Mercury passed among herds- hers; the secrecy of their meetings lent men for a herdsman, and Apollo among a flavour of adventure ; and so he became shepherds for a shepherd.
| bound to one who matched with him as Raleigh. Lo you, where the mourners finch with falcon, in vouth a country lass, of his household approach the house. in age a mere housewife, something fretLet us wait here while they enter, and I ful, but, in the sum, contented; and pray you beguile the minute by telling Shakespeare, who was of a temper to fit me of them. Of what fashion is Mistress himself to what is, dwelt with her here in Hall ?
much kindness. But see — Doctor Hall Drayton. Susannah is, from a child, of doth await us on the steps of the enan earnest nature and a serious wit. trance. Learning little from books, she hath Doctor Hall. Master Drayton, I pray learned much from converse and observa- you that you pass not by the house of tion, and so in her hath her father found your departed friend without entering; I a companion; somewhat retiring at first, beseech you, sir, you and your friend ; but upon occasion speaking warmly with 'twill be a kindness to come in. You shall, spirit; devout withal, capable of strict ar- not be excused, sirs. gument for conscience' sake, yet of a becoming humility; so that I have oft SCENE VI. - A Room in Shakespeare's House. thought her father drew the Isabella of
| DOCTOR HALL, DRAYTON, and RALEIGH.
DocToR HAU Dpavrov “ Measure for Measure" from her, she being about twenty years old when 'twas
Doctor Hall. Here, sirs, is my father. writ; even her who says
in-law's parlour, where he hath mostly
abided in this last illness. Be pleased to Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good
sit while I fetch my wife, who will part B'it graciously to know I am no better.
with a few moments of her sorrow in seeRaleigh. Is her helpmate worthy of ing so old a friend. her?
[He goes out. Drayton. A worthy man is Doctor Hall Raleigh. By Saint George, sir, the poet - whó consorts with Susannah in piety was bravely lodged! How rich the stainas in love : one who, next to God and ing of this window, where, through the his wife, loveth his most honourable call- lower panes, we look on the garden ! and ing, and hath grown to a physician of re- above, there stands emblazoned the falpute here in Warwickshire, much sought con with his golden spear, steel-pointed, after by great ones of the shire.
that Sir Thomas told us of. This wain: Raleigh. Taketh the fair Judith in aught scot, too, is quaintly carved, and the after her father ?
chimney-front of a rich design. But, soft Drayton. Hardly sir ; though her twin-you now — whose graven portrait is this brother, Hamnet, who died young, was a that hangs in the midst of it ? By my child of rare promise. The girl is spright-troth, 'tis my father's ! ly, but of small depth or substance, fa- Drayton. Ay, Master Raleigh ; think vouring the mother. She might have sat not but that the poet, with his wide emfor Anne Page, being about sixteen when brace for his fellow-men, took such merit her father drew Anne ; and she is well-as Sir Walter's near his soul. The darmatched with Master Quiney, whose wit ing that went forth on the unknown deep, o'ertops not hers, who is gay and jovial the search for El Dorado, the finding of as becometh a vintner, taking pleasure in strange lands and stranger peoples, all what pleases her. Marry, he hath the these fired his fancy. 'Tis to our great merit of being the son of her father's old mariners we owe the sweet magic of friend Richard Quiney.
| Prospero's isle, the innocence of MiranRaleigh. Sir, a nobleman might have da, the savageness of Caliban, the witchfittingly found in her a mate, she being eries of Ariel.