Raleigh. And above my father's hangs | Anne-who shall be thy next?" But Bacon's; these Shakespeare looked on Lord, sir, I'll ne'er marry again. as he sat by the fire, and thus was hom- Raleigh. Kings, madam, might be proud age done both to adventure and to of such a predecessor. thought. And on this side, engraven like the others, from a painting I have seen, hangs the Earl of Southampton's. Drayton. Whereby is homage done to friendship; greatly and constantly did the Earl love Shakespeare. And here, when he sat by this window that looks on the garden, he saw on the wall opposite, the presentments of his more level associates Ben Jonson, Marlow, Beaumont and Fletcher (twinned in one carven oak frame), Spenser, Sidney, and, lo you, mine unworthy self. Raleigh. But what strange company for such progeny of the Muse are these others on the opposing wall! Calvin and Knox, Ridley and Jewel, and here, portrayed in chalk by a cunning hand, the divine who preached to us even now. What do these godly men here? Did Shakespeare love them? Drayton. Shakespeare, Master Walter, looked on Puritan and Prelatist as the wearers of certain garbs hiding men underneath; 'twas concerning the men he chiefly cared to inquire. 'Tis the Doctor and Mistress Hall who have solaced themselves by hanging these here; the Doctor hath long been a chief of that party in Stratford which, though it forsakes not quite the Church, yet holds by that corner of it which is nearest Geneva; and his wife, from her natural bent, leans to the austerer (perchance I should say, the more earnest) side of religion. But Shakespeare, in such matters, would, as Polonius advises, give his ear to all, his voice to few, and tolerated the effigies of these grave divines without any special love for themselves. Enter DOCTOR HALL, his wife, their young daughter ELIZABETH, aged eight, and Shakespeare's Widow. Mistress Hall. Master Drayton, your pardon yet awhile if I cannot greet youseeing you stirs up thoughts that rob me of all words. [She turns aside. Mistress Shakespeare. O Master Drayton! Son Hall, lead me to my great chair. Oh, what a loss is mine! Drayton. Your loss is the world's loss, too, good madam. Mistress Shakespeare. Oh, Sir, who will uphold me now, a poor, weak woman? Mr. Shakespeare in his merry mood would say, "Come, thou❜lt make a brave widow, Mistress Shakespeare. Kings, sir! What should kings have to do with me! You are pleased to jest, young sir; though kings and queens, too, have looked with favour on Mr. Shakespeare. But the funeral, Susannah was all becoming? Did the sermon make good mention of my husband? And the dole was all the dole given away? But oh, my poor brain! ¡ Master Drayton and his friend must eat somewhat. There is a stuffed chine. Oh, how he that's gone loved a stuffed chine! Here be the keys, Elizabeth; see the chine set forth in the dining chamber. [The DOCTOR leads her forth. Mistress Hall. Master Drayton, your pardon once again. I feel some shame at being thus o'ermastered-'tis not meet private sorrow to let our spirits be held in dominion by a but when I think on him, my heart turns to water. But, Master Drayton, I have marvelled you came not to my father in his sickness. Drayton. I knew not of it - think you I could have stayed from him? I was far beyond rumour of his condition, and had come now, O heavens! hoping to behold him and listen to him as of yore. Mistress Hall. Much and oft hath he talked of you; for it was growing to be his chief pleasure to sit with old friends, or, they absent, to talk of them. His sickness, though it subdued not his spirit, sobered it; his mirth fell to the level of cheerfulness; he was oftener silent and rapt; and oh, sir, though I dare not aver it, I will yet hope that his thoughts were above. Drayton. Trust me, Mistress Hall, 'twould be a narrower heaven than we should all hope for, where room and gracious welcome were not proclaimed for him. Think you his place can be elsewhere than with the greatest and best that have gone before? that I do strongly desire to see that time when none shall be so great as to o'ertop the law, and do think it better that the claws of kings should be pared, than that in their breath should lie the liberties of men. But I pray you, sir, hath Sir Walter made trial of the decoction of dittany, or of fumitorie, to correct the malice of this ague? I have made essay of the root satyrion, in like cases, and found his effects to be good. suffer much pain? Mistress Hall. Oh, sir, 'tis that troubles me. Hath he not trusted overmuch to that bright intellect? Hath he not been Raleigh. I doubt not, sir, that all apas one that looketh forth from his watch-proved remedies have been used by his tower, and beholdeth a fertile land, and a physicians. Did Master Shakespeare great dominion, and heedeth not that the foundations of the building are of sand? Hath he not- but I will not speak of the thorn that, since he is gone, pricketh me sorer than before. He charged me, Master Michael, that you should see what writings he hath left behind. Would, oh, would they had dealt with such things as only are of great price! Drayton. Wrote he much in these latter days? Mistress Hall. Yea, often, and would call his pen the sluice without which his thoughts would o'erflow his brain, and perchance drown his wits. But now, sir, I will take you to his own chamber, where I will show you the coffer wherein he kept his writings. Doctor Hall (returning). Your pardon, sir, for leaving you without company. Raleigh. Nay, I had the best of company -even fancies about the great one that so lately dwelt here. Was this book his ? Doctor Hall. Yea, and one of the last he read in. Raleigh. Right glad am I to hear itand right proud will my father be to know that the book he wrote in his captivity was of the last studied by the man he hath ever esteemed the most illustrious of this age. Doctor Hall. Thy father! the History of the World! you are then the son of Sir Walter Raleigh. Raleigh. Ay, sir, I am but too forward to own that kinship. Doctor Hall. Sir Walter's health must needs have suffered much wrong from his long imprisonment. I have heard that he hath been mightily shaken of an ague. Raleigh. Ay, sir, one contracted years agone in the service of our king's famous predecessor. Doctor Hall. Well is it said, put not your trust in princes. I may tell you, sir, VOL. II. 78 LIVING AGE. Doctor Hall. His malady was wasting rather than painful, save that toward the last he was oft seized with a panting and passion of the heart which left him very nigh to death, for the which I found the syrup of gilliflower, and flour of marigold, in wine, of much avail; the juice of roses also doth greatly comfort the heart. But of your father. I have ever heard Sir Walter reputed for a gentleman of qualities the most diverse, as skill in war by sea and land, courtiership, and statesmanship, the poet's and the chronicler's art, and in all a master - some of which concern not greatly an obscure physician; but I have also heard that he hath a pretty knowledge of pharmacy. But I pray you, tell me somewhat of MasRaleigh. He hath some skill in simples. ter Shakespeare, the hope of seeing whom fetched me hither, and next to that lost contentment, will be the hearing of him from those he loved. Was not a play called the "Tempest" (which I have not yet seen imprinted) one of the latest of his works for the theatre? Doctor Hall. I believe it was. It hath been told me that the famous cordial which bears Sir Walter's name* was administered both to the Queen and Prince Henry. I have the recipe writ down, but I doubt me whether I have the ingredients in just quantities. Can you advise me of this? Raleigh. I think my memory may serve me so far. But, sir, 'tis Master Drayton's opinion, as he said but now, that such expeditions by sea as my father hath adventured may have caused conception, in the poet's fancy, of the story of that play. Doctor Hall. It may be so: 'tis of shipwreck and an enchanted isle, as I remember me to have heard; good sooth, Master Raleigh, there be so many evils sir Walter's Cordial, the ingredients of which are A specific, or panacea, well known in that age as given in the text. in this world crying for redress, that I night in the snow, where my grandfather bestow not much thought on enchant- found her, and brought her hither, ments, and love-tales, and bygone histo- wrapped in his cloak; and he told me alĺ ries. (Takes out a memorandum-book.) | the tale of how she left fairyland First, there be, in the cordial, of zedoary there is time I'll tell it thee. And our and saffron each half a pound. other friend is Bobadil. Raleigh. True, sir. But talked Master Shakespeare greatly of his plays while he was busied in inditing them? Doctor Hall. Perchance, to others who were poets; but, indeed, my business in life hath so little relation with what he writ that I did not greatly seek his confidence at such times. Now, regarding this recipe - as to the powder of crab's claws, I have it set down at fourteen ounces. Raleigh. It should be sixteen, sir. Doctor Hall. Why, there now, see, good youth, what a service you have done me; for just proportion is of the essence of a prescript, and I have hitherto compounded this rare remedy but imperfectly. Of cinnamon and nutmegs, two ounces,cloves, one, cardamoms, half an ounce, - sugar, two ounces. Raleigh. All these be right. Doctor Hall. I thank you heartily for your correction in the matter of the crab's claws. I will note it. (Goes to write at a table). Raleigh (to Elizabeth). Come hither, pretty one, and tell me thy name. Elizabeth (whispering). My grandfather called me his Queen Bess; and said he would liefer be ruled by me than the older one. (Aloud.) Didst thou not say, sir, thou wouldst like to hear of him from those he loved? Raleigh. Ay, little maid. Elizabeth. Then thou must talk of him to me, for he hath oft said 'twas me he loved best, and (weeping) I shall ne'er be tired talking of him. Raleigh. Didst often bear him company, Bess? Elizabeth. Ay, for my father goeth much from home, and when my mother was in her store-closet, or visiting the sick, my grandfather and I kept together, we and our two friends. Raleigh. Is Bobadil a man? when Elizabeth. Nay, surely you know he is a dog; kind and civil to us, but with other dogs he quarrelleth and growleth, and then flieth from them in fear, loving not to fight. And I have a little horse which grandfather did buy for me, and a riding-coat like the Queen's maids, and, so long as he could, we did ride together. Raleigh. Well, Elizabeth, I am going presently to the wars, and when I come again thou and I shall be married, shall we not? Elizabeth. Ay, if my mother will let me, for thou art handsome and kind. Raleigh. Seest thou this chain round my hat, with the pearl clasp? well, I have kept it for my lady-love, when I should have one - so 'tis yours-look, I clasp it on your neck for a token, and when we are wedded you shall tell me the story of Mopsa. Elizabeth. Sure, 'tis the prettiest chain. I give thee for't these four kisses. I will go show it my grandmother.* [She goes out. Elizabeth might serve at a pinch for her Raleigh. Methinks, Master Hall, that grandfather's very faithful chronicler. Doctor Hall. Áy, sir, better than most; she bore him company ever when he was inditing, and oft at other seasons. For me, I did greatly love and esteem my good father-in-law, and we lived together in pleasant communion; but for the works which, as I have heard, those that make a play-place of this world find such content in, he ever knew that ceaseless warring with the diseases of the bodies, and (what is more) of the souls of my neighbours, and care for those public matters in which I discern a way to a better condition of the world's affairs, have left me small leisure for fancies to which I am, good sooth, noways affected; therefore he spake not to me of them. But there is one sweet piece of work, of which (not to speak profanely) he was author, that I daily study with reverence and love - and hither it comes. Re-enter MISTRESS HALL and DRAYTON. Drayton. I am like the man in the Elizabeth married, at eighteen, Mr. Thomas Nash, and, secondly, Sir John Barnard, leaving no children by either. fable who was privileged to look in the cave where a wizard had collected the treasures of the earth, and was so dazed that he could neither pouch any, nor even take account of what he saw. Only I know there be there, beside plays already acted though never imprinted, and others of which only false copies have gone abroad, a multitude of uncoined ingots and uncut jewels of thought, which that matchless mind hath thrown off as if in mere exercise and at breathing-time. What measureless delight will these bestow on the world! * Mistress Hall. But I know not, sir, if the world shall ever see them. My father gave me no command in the matter, and it may be that I shall serve his memory better, with pious men, by keeping them private. Drayton. Trust me, Mistress Hall, the holder of these shall owe a heavy debt to thy father's fame. Mistress Hall. Nay, sir, what is fame that it must needs be satisfied at all hazards? the bandying of a name from one idle mouth to another! - praise as hollow and unavailing as the night wind sighing o'er an epitaph! what profit or comfort is in such for the departed? Raleigh. By heaven, madam, not so! -rather is fame the linking of far-off generations by the common bond of one great name: for the dead, it is a second life among men, in which earthiness is purged away, and what is imperishable tarries and, for the living, their just inheritance; so, to defeat Fame is to commit a double, nay a tenfold wrong. Her trumpet sounds no empty strain; 'tis the appeal against our baser promptings, the summons to action, the meed of achievement, the celebration on earth of the spirit's triumph over the grave: thus it maketh the music to which mankind do march, and which, silent, would leave them slaves. Mistress Hall. Your words, young sir, are manly, but I know not if they be godly. Of what avail that men should march, if not heavenward? How poor be centuries of this fame of yours to one hour of that other life we look for! Think not, Master Drayton, that I am dull to the spell of my father's verse; as a maiden it enthralled my fancy and charmed mine ear; even now could I taste the delights of it; but I have come to know that in such enchantments lies deadly peril, and I must pass on with my fingers in mine ears. Feeling thus, I know not if, in conscience, I may give what he hath left a voice, in books. Drayton. I will not do battle with these scruples in the hour of your grief, but will trust to the future for overcoming them. Even if no new matter go forth, it were grievous to withhold the true versions of his plays. Methinks I espy, in the depths of time, his image veiled, and mark the generations of men toiling to unravel his meanings, and piecing out his maimed verses, and clipt fancies, with guess-work; collecting the while, in pain and doubt, what unthreaded memories tradition may preserve of him. And I do fear me that if some disciple be not found elsewhere, more devoted than any his birthplace affords, to tell posterity what manner of man he was, there may, in a brief space, and ere his fame hath reached its zenith, remain of this chief of English poets nothing but a wondrous name. [DRAYTON and RALEIGH take their leave, aud quit New Place. SCENE VII.- The Dolphin Chamber in the Falcon Tavern. DRAYTON and RALEIGH. Through the open door, those who were Bearers at the Funeral are seen drinking in the Tap small refection will Drayton. This bring us handsomely to supper with Sir Thomas. So, hostess, now fill to Master Raleigh — and to each a crust. What do these roysterers without? Hostess. Sir, Master Shakespeare, who was ever full of kind thoughts and maleficence, left it in 's testament that the bearers should be entertained at the Falcon with cakes and ale after the burial; and, in truth, sirs, they have borne themselves like men this hour past; they drink rarely. Drayton. What a coil the varlets keep! Let us listen to them. Sly. Well, a health, boys, to Master Shakespeare, wheresome'er he be. -(Sings) And we'll trowl the brown bowl To the health of his· Bardolph. Nay, no singing, except any man knoweth a virtuous psalm-tune. *The corrected plays were first published seven years after, in the well-known Folio of 1623. Rugby. Ay. Wart. There was somewhat played then, writ, 'twas said by Master Shakespeare, that would have served our turn now; something of ghosts and a burial. Rugby. Was't not the play of King Hamlet? Bottom. Ay, that or else the goodly tragedy of Makebate. Bardolph. To see Master Shakespeare sitting there on the bench nighest to the stage with his daughter, Mistress Quiney that now is, beside him, and to think the play he looked-on at was writ by himself- by heaven! 'twas as a man should say-wonderful. 66 66 Wart. I ne'er saw Makebate, but I saw another. I was lingering by the playhouse door, with Margery my wife one night, thinking to peep at the stage through a chink in the boards, when Master Shakespeare comes me down the lane. "Art for the play, Wart?" quo' he. Nay, sir," quo' I; no pay no play, and my pockets are e'en like Skinflint's pot." "Never stay for that," quo' he; "thou shalt pass, and Margery too, as freely as coined silver and I hope, Margery, thou'lt lay the play to heart, for they tell me thou lead'st Wart a terrible life of it." Now, the play, sirs, was of a masterful woman whose goodman got the better of her. Marry, 'twas named - let me see by the mass, 'twas Rugby. Was't not named the Turning of the Screw, or some such? Several. Ay, 'twas so, indeed. Bottom. Nay, if you are for remembering names, my masters, I am he that can serve your turn. 'Twas named the Quelling of the Scold-'twas, as Wart truly said, the history of a crowing hen that had her comb cut, as all such should. Sly. When wilt cut Goodwife Bottom's, Nick? Folk say she playeth Chanticleer to thy Partlet. Bottom. Folk say much, neighbour, that it beseemeth not a man of sense to hearken to. But touching these plays I am all for the love-passages; it giveth one, as 'twere, a yearning; it maketh one feel young again the billing, now — and the sighing. I have played the lover, neighbours, both on the stage and off it, when my sweetheart hath borne her most tenderly. Wart. I also was loved in my youth. Sly. Thou loved! was there ne'er a scarecrow in the parish, then, to set heart on? Hostess (entering with fresh ale). Nay, fub not the goodman so, Christopherthou art ever girding. I warrant me, neighbour Wart hath had his cooings and his wooings like the rest, and could tickle a maiden's ear as well as another. What! have we not all been young! Nym. Well, for me, I care not for the love-humours - there is a mawkishness and a queasiness in overmuch ogling and lipping. I am for your deadlier humours; give me a murder, now, or the witches. Wart. I love the witches, too. Bardolph. Since ye talk of witches, saw ye Goody Broom at the burial to-day, hanging on the skirts of the crowd, and lurking behind a gravestone, wiping, the while, her old red eyes with the corner of her ragged cloak? I am well persuaded that Master Shakespeare had no truer mourner than that same ancient leman of Lucifer. Hostess. And well she may, poor soul! Between water and fire there was like to have been soon an end of her, but for Master Shakespeare. Wart. Well, I was one of those that ducked her i' the pond; and I ran a needle, too, into a mole she had, and she winced not - a sure sign of a witch; but when Master Shakespeare stept forth and bespoke us, I felt I know not how at his words, and made home an 'twere a dog that hath been caught in the larder. Snug. And when they haled her before the justices, Sir Thomas was for burning |
