ERRATA.

Page 16, stanza 4 — For "then save" read "them save." Page 23, line 6 — For "defied" read "deified." Page 59 — For "Son. 34-vcxxiii " read " 34-cxxviii." Page 80, note 2— For "Son. 83-xlix " read " 82-xlix." Page 85, note 1 — For "Son. 82-cxiii " read "81-cxiii." Page 312, line 2— For " Not " read "Nor." Page 336, stanza 3, line 6 — For "leave " read "have." Page 336, stanza 4, line 5— For "has" read "hath."

SHAKE-SPEARE

ENGLAND'S ULY55L5,

THE MASQUE

OF

LOVE'S LABOR'S WON

OR

THE ENACTED WILL

The Phcenix. By the way sweet Nature tell me this, Is this the Moly that is excellent, For strong enchantments, and the adders hiss?1 Is this the Moly that Mercurious sent To wise Ulysses,2 when he did prevent The witchcraft, and foul Circes damned charms, That would have compassed him with twenty harms?

Mother Nature. This is the Moly growing in this land, That was revealed by cunning Mercury To great Ulysses, Making him withstand The hand of Circes fatal sorcery, That would have loaden him with misery,1 And ere we pass lie show some excellence, Of other herbs in physics noble science. Love's Martyr;6 or, Rosalinds Complaint, 1601, p. 92.

1 Dramatic writing a handicap to the succession.

2 Cp. "Great Strong-Bowe's heir," p. 130, and note 6, p. 244.

3 A mutilated, dismembered and buried love play.

Poets are borne not made, when I would prove This truth, the glad rememberance I must love Of never dying Shakespeare, who alone, Is argument enough to make that one. First, that he was a Poet none would doubt, That heard th' applause of what he sees set out Imprinted; where thou hast [I will not say] Reader his workes for to contrive a Play. To him 'twas none]1 the patterne of all wit, Art without Art unparaleld as yet.

Leonard Digges in Benson's 1640 Edition of the Sonnets.

It was never acted; or, if it was, not above once, for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general; but it was — as I received it, and others, whose judg- ments in such matters cried in the top of mine — an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cun- ning.— Hamlet, n. 2.

Where thou hast [I will not say

To him 'twas none] reader his works for to contrive a flay.

ROBERT DEVEREUX, SECOND EARL OF ESSEX.

PEN NAMES:

HENRY WILLOBIE— ROBERT CHESTER— IQNOTO AND WILLIAM SHAKE-SPEARE.

SHAKE-SPEARE

ENGLAND'S ULYSSES,

THE MASQUE OF

LOME'S LABOR'S WON

•

OR

THE ENACTED WILL.

' ' Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori."

DRAMATIZED

FROM THE SONNETS OF 1609. ["Reader his workes for to contrive a play."]

BY

LATHAM DAVIS.

20*h ST., .NEW YORK.

Copyright, 1905, by

LATHAM DAVIS All rights reserved.

"There were no gods 'till Love mingled all things; and by the mixture of the different with the different Heaven came to be, and Ocean, and Earth, and the undying race of all the blessed gods." — Cp. The Birds, Aristophanes, 11. 691-706.

The ways on earth have paths and turnings known, The ways on sea are gone by needle's light, The birds of heaven the nearest ways have flown, And under earth the moles do cast aright; A way more hard than those I needs must take, Where none can teach, and no man can direct, Where no man's good for me example makes, But all men's faults do teach her to suspect. Her thoughts and mine such disproportion have; All strength of love is infinite in me; She useth the advantage time and fortune gave Of worth and power to get the liberty.

Earth, sea, heaven, hell, are subject to love's laws;

But I! poorl! must suffer and know no cause.

Poems of Essex.

While Bacon's sense of the presence of physical law in the universe was for his time extraordinari^ developed, he seems practically to have acted upon the theory that the moral laws of the world are not inexorable, but rather by tactics and dexterity may be cleverly evaded.1 Their supremacy was acknowledged by Shakspere .... he reaches to the ultimate truths of human life and character through a supreme and indivisible energy of love, imagination and thought. — Shakspere, His Mind and Art, Dow- den, p. 1 6.

1 I do esteem whatsoever I have or may have in this world but as trash, in comparison of having the honour and happiness to be a near and well accepted kinsman to so rare and worthy a counsellor, governor, and patriot. — Letter, Francis Bacon to Robert Cecil, January ist, 1608.

My Lord of Salisbury [Robert Cecil] had a good method, if his ends had been upright. — Letter, Bacon to James I., May 3ist, 1612.

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One rare rich Phoenix of exceeding beauty,

One none-like Lily in the earth I placed;

One fair Helena to whom men owe duty,

One country with a milk-white Dove I graced.

One and none such, since the wide world was found Hath ever Nature placed on the ground.1 Mother Nature to Jove in Love's Martyr. [Cp. p. 360.]

The only bird alone that Nature Frames? When weary of the tedious life she lives, By fire dies, yet finds new life in flames.

In Allusion to the Phcenix, Daniel, 1591. [Cp. p. 65.]

How only she [Mother Nature] bestowes1 The wealthy treasure of her love in him: Making his fortunes swim In the full flood of her admired perfection.

Ben Jonson in Love's Martyr. [Cp. p. 226.]

Mars must become a coward in his mynde, Whiles Vulcan standes to prate of Venus toyes: Beautie must seeme to go against her kinde, In crossing Nature in her sweetest joyes.1

Poems of Essex. [Cp. p. 245.]

And he, the man whom Nature self had made To mock herself^ and truth to imitate .... But that same gentle spirit, from whose pen Large streams of honie and sweet nectar flow, Scorning the boldness of such base born men Which dare their follies forth so rashly throw, Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell, Than so himself to mockery to sell.

Tears of The Muses, Spenser, 1591.

1 Mother Nature herself a dramatist. 10

INTRODUCTION

'Favor must die, and fancy wear away."

Poems of Essex. [Cp. p. 245.]

Many have imagined that the greatest dramatist of the great- est literary period of the world was a man; in these pages I pur- pose showing that in Elizabeth's time there was a bragging wo- man who aspired to a chair among the immortals, and that our greatest comedy: the one that "of time shall live beyond the end"1 was written — preposterous as it may seem — by a woman, Fal- staff's mother, Dame Nature herself.

In 1598, Francis Meres mentions twelve plays by Shake- speare, six comedies, and six tradgedies, "affecting a balanced symetry;" among the comedies named was Love's Labor's Won. No play of this name has come down to us, was Meres mistaken in his studied nomenclature? Again, Hamlet is wordy, if not garrulous over "an excellent play" that was '''caviare to the gen- eral," was Hamlet mistaken as to the existence of this rare play?

Among the works of Shake-speare are two productions whose meaning has withstood the skill and baffled the resources of our keenest scholars;2 these compositions are the one hundred and fifty- four Sonnets taken collectively, and the eighteen stanza poem contributed to Love's Martyr and known as The Phcenix and Turtle Dove.

Apparently, these two productions have naught in common but are absolutely independent, The Phoenix and Turtle appear- ing in 1 60 1, the Sonnets not seeing the light until 1609. From testimony now first in evidence, these compositions are so inti-

1 Cp. Drayton's Sonnet to the Phoenix, p. 246.

2 Cp. The Subject Matter, p. 14.

mately related that they fuse or coalesce, losing their individual- ity in one conception.

So they loved as love in twain, Had the essence but in one, Two distincts, division none, Number there in love was slain.

Reason in itself confounded, Saw division grow together, To themselves yet either neither, Simple were so well compounded. The Phoenix and Turtle.

Briefly, the Phoenix is a dismantled Masque, its text repre- sented by the one hundred and fifty- four Sonnets, and the Turtle Dove is the Dramatis Personae of the Masque embedded in the first five stanzas of the poem known as The Phoenix and Turtle.

If that the Phoenix had been separated, And from the gentle Turtle had been parted, Love had been murdered in the infancie, Without these two no love at all can be.

Love ' s Martyr ; or, Rosalin"1 s Complaint, p. 140.

In analyzing the framework of this Phcenix Masque — sup- posedly written and certainly enacted by Mother Nature and her children — it becomes apparent that the deep laid scheme cunning- ly assumes the dignity of a legal document, being witnessed by John Marston, George Chapman, and Ben Jonson, and that the sole purpose of the play is to convey and re-establish by an ar- tistic Will the authorship of our Shake-spearian literature; fur- thermore, in the wiping out of the Sonnets as personal love poems, and their evolvement in a drama

"Only by dying born the very same" the Phcenix prophecy in Henry VIII. is fulfilled.

"When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness, Her ashes new create another heir."

The name of this new heir to the Shake-spearian mantle, as revealed by the "star like" acrostic that "stands fix'd" at the termination of the Dramatis Personae — is that of "the one pre- eminent man in the Court of Elizabeth," none other than "the brilliant but impetuous, the greatly dowered but rash, the illus- trious but unhappy Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex."

Omaha, August, 1905.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

Introduction . . . . . . n

The Subject Matter . . . . 14

Invocatio . . . . . . 15

The Masque of Love's Labor's Won . . 17

The Origin of Hamlet ..... 175

Ulysses and the Court of Elizabeth . . . 203

The Man was Dead ..... 223

William Shakspere, Poet or Peacock . . . 236

Birds of A Feather . . . . . 239

Chronology of the Plays . . . . . 242

Essex Claims the Authorship . . . 244

Divus Shake-speare ...... 246

The Phoanix Analyzed ..... 249

Penelopes Challenge ..... 279

Portrait of Essex ..... 286

Poems Bearing on the Authorship .... 290

Monks of Monkery ..... 346

APPENDIX.

I- — Love's Martyr; Or, Rosalin's Complaint . . 353 IL— Bacon's Declaration, 1601 .... [1-34] III. — Bacon's Apology, 1604 , . . [1-21]

THE SUBJECT MATTER

' 'Robert Chester's 'Love's Martyr; or, Rosalin's Complaint, published in 1601, contained according to the preface, 'diverse poetical essays on the Turtle1 and Phoenix2 done by the best and chiefest of our modern writers.' Shakespeare's contribution to this collection of verse was 'The Phoenix and the Turtle' the most enigmatical of his works. This poem of thirteen stanzas of four lines each, concluding with a Threnos of five stanzas of three lines each, is a poetical requiem for the Phoenix and the Turtle whose love was 'married chastity.' Among the contri- butors to the collection were Shakespeare's great contemporaries, Jonson, Chapman, and Marston; but neither the purpose nor the occasion of the publication has yet been discovered, nor has any light been shed from any quarter on the allegory, whose mean- ing Shakespeare seems to have hidden from posterity in this baffling poem, — Emerson suggested that a prize be offered for an essay which 'should explain by a historical research into the poetic myths and tendencies of the age in which it was written, the frame and allusions of the poem.' But although much re- search has been devoted to this object, and many metaphysical, political, ecclesiastical, and historical interpretations have been suggested 'the Phoenix and the Turtle remains an unsolved enig- ma."— Shakespeare, Poet, Dramatist, and Man, H. W. Maine, 1900, p. 225.

"in all seriousness we think it is high time that the 'clos- ure' should be applied to the debate on the Mystery of Shake- speare's Sonnets. If there was the faintest indication of any dawn on the darkness, even the wearied reviewer would be pa- tient .... Indeed, it may now be said with literal truth that, unless some fresh discovery is made, nothing new, whether in the way of absurdity or sense, can be advanced on this Subject. The problem presented in the Sonnets is undoubtedly the most fascinating problem in all literature, and it is as exasperating as it is fascinating. It appears to be so simple, it seems constantly to be on the verge of its solution, and yet the moment we get be- yond a certain point in inquiry, the more complex its apparent simplicity is discovered to be, the more hopeless all prospect of explaining the enigma." — Ephemera Critica, 1902, J. C. Collins •, p. 219.

1 Allegory, the Dramatis Personse of the Masque.

8 Allegory, the Sonnets of 1609, a Dismantled Masque,

*4

INVOCATIO

A prayer made for the prosperity1 of the Turtle Dove [England's Wooden Horse], i. e., that the Dramatis Persona of the Sonnets of 1609 maybe discovered and the name of our true Shake-speare [England's Ulysses] shall not perish from the earth.

D

V

O Thou great maker of the firmament, That rid'st upon the winged Cherubins, And on the glorious shining element, Hear'st the sad praiers of the Seraphins, That unto thee continually sing Hj^mnes;

Bow downe thy listning eares thou God of might, To him whose heart will praise thee day and night.

Accept the humble Praiers of that soule, That now lies wallowing in the myre of Sinne, Thy mercie Lord doth all my powers controule, And searcheth reines and heart that are within: Therefore to thee Jehovah He begin:

Lifting my head from my imprisoned grave, No mercie but thy mercie me can save.

The foule untamed Lion still goes roring, Old hell-bread Sathan enemy to mankind, To lead me to his jawes that are devouring, Wherein no Grace to humane flesh's assign'd, But thou celestiall Father canst him bind:

Tread on his head, tread Sinne and Sathan downe, And on thy servants head set Mercies crowne.

1 In Love's Martyr the heading to the prayer reads: "A prayer made for the prosperity of a silver coloured Dove, applyed to the beauteous Phoenix."

15

E

R

E

U

X

Thus in acceptance of thy glorious sight, I purge my deadly sinne in hope of grace, Thou art the Doore, the Lanthorne and the Light, To guide my sinfull feete from place to place, And now O Christ I bow before thy face:

And for the silver coloured earthly Dove,

I make my earnest prayer for thy love.

Shrowde her O Lord under thy shadowed wings, From the worlds envious malice and deceit, That like the adder-poisoned serpent stings, And in her way laves a corrupted baite, Yet raise her God unto thy mercies height: Guide her, O guide her from pernicious foes, That many of thy creatures overthrowes.

Wash her O Lord with Hysope and with Thime, And the white snow she shall excell in whitenesse, Purge her with mercie from all sinfull crime, And her soules glorie shall exceed in brightnesse, O let thy mercie grow unto such ripenesse: Behold her, O behold her gratious King, That unto thee sweet songs of praise will sing.

And as thou leadst through the red coloured waves,

The host of thy elected Israel,

And from the wrath of Pharoe didst then save,

Appointing them within that land to dwell,

A chosen land, a land what did excell:

So guide thy silver Dove unto that place, Where she Temptations envie may outface.

Increase thy gifts bestowed on thy Creature, And multiply thy blessings manifold, And as thou hast adorned her with nature, So with thy blessed eyes her eyes behold, That in them doth thy workmanship unfold, Let her not wither Lord without increase, But bless her with jo37es offspring of sweet peace.

Amen. Amen. Robert Chester in Love's Martyr, 1601, p. 21,

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in our philosophy.

Hamlet, i-v.

THE MASQUE

— OF- LOVE'S LABOR'S WON.

[A SWEET CONCEIT.]

The only thing that will satisfy the world that he [the Player] was not the author of the plays is a demonstration that another was. Such a demonstration cannot be supplied by the evidence of contemporaries, . . . still less can it be supplied by Cryptogram or Cipher. — The Mystery of William Shakespeare, Judge Webb, Baconian.

. . . Since the world is at this woefull passe, Let Love's submission Honour's wrath apease: Let not an Horse be matched with an Asse, Nor hatefull tongue an happie hart disease. So shall the world commend a sweet conceipte, And humble Fayth on heavenly honour waite.

Poems of Essex, Cp. p. 245,

" I hold it ever,

Virtue and cunning were endowments greater Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs May the two latter darken and expend: But immortality attends the former, Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever Have studied physic,1 which doth give me A more content; in course of true delight Than to be thirsty after tottering honor, Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, To please the fool and death.

Pericles, 111-2.

Lines on the dismantling of a play that pleased not the million, but was "caviare to the general"3 "of our gracious empress."1

Muses4 no more but Mazes5 be yor names, • Where discord sound shall marre yor concorde sweet; Unkyndly now yor carefull fancye frames When fortune treades yor favors under feet; But foule befalle that cursed Cuckces" throt, That so hath crost sweet Philomelas7 note.

Essex, " General of our gracious Empress,"*

1 Cp. p. 250. z Hamlet, u. 2.

3 Henry V., v. i.

* The speaking characters of the Sonnets of 1609.

5 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

6The player Shakspere, a creature of the crown.

7 Essex, ths Nightingale or the honey-tongued Sha,k,e-spea,re. Cp. p. 335.

18

THE "W. H." DEDICATION A CHALLENGE

— OR— METAMORPHOSING1 THE MIGHTY BOW.

Rational Knowledges are the keys of all other arts; for as Aristotle saith aptly and elegantly, That the HAND is the In- strument of Instruments^ and t]ie mind is tJie Form of Forms: so these be truly said to be the Art of Arts: neither do they only direct, but likewise confirm and strengthen; even as the habit of shooting doth not only enable to shoot a nearer shoot, but also to draw a stronger bow. — Adv. of L., II. 260, Francis Bacon.

Behold your test of skill! I bring to you

The mighty bow that great Ulysses bore.

Who'er among you he may be WHOSE HAND

Shall string this bow, and send through these Twelve Rings

An arrow, him I follow hence, and leave

This beautiful abode of my young years,

With all its plenty, though its memory,

I think, will haunt me even in my dreams.

Penelope' s Challenge^ Homer,

1 For Shake-speare's indebtedness to Ovfd, cp. note 2, p. 256. 8 For noted translations of Penelope's Challenge, see p. 279-

19

THE SONNETS OF 1609, DEDICATED TO HOMER.

XXVI. LXXVII.

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,

To thee I send this written ambassage,1

To witness duty, not to show my wit:

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine

May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,

But that I hope some good conceit of thine

In thy soul's thought,1 all naked, will bestow it;

Till whatsoever star that guides my moving

Points on me graciously with lair aspect,

And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,

To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;

Till then, not show my head where thou may'st prove me.

Thy glass2 will show thee how thy beauties wear,

Thy dial,1 how thy precious minutes waste;

The vacant3 leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,

And of this book4 this learning may'st thou taste.

The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show

Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;

Thou by thy dial's shady stealth may'st know

Time's thievish progress to eternity.

Look, what thy memory can not contain

Commit to these waste3 acts,5 and thou shalt find I

Those children nurs'd, deliver'd from thy brain, f G

To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.7

William Shake-spear e.

1 The rigid laws of time and f lace our bard In this night's drama ventures to discard; If here he errs — he errs with him whose name Stands without rival on the rolls of fame; Him whom the passions own with one accord Their great dictator and despotic lord.

Prologue, Thomas Morton's Columbus, 1792.

[Cp. Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, Lounsbury, p. 73.]

2 The Sonnets of 1609.

3 Dismantled.

* Cp- note i, p. 30, and note i, p. 222.

5 The Quarto "blacks" which, on strategic grounds, is in harmony with the last six lines of Son. xxvi.

6 The Gods in Pythagorean Comedy upon Plato's Ladder of Love. 7 Be still my thoughts, be silent all yee Muses,

Wit-flowing eloquence now grace my tongue : Arise old Homer and make no excuses, Of a rare peece of art must be my song, Of more then most, and most of all beloved, About the which Venus sweete doves have hovered. Robert Chester in Love's Martyr. [Cp. p. 363.]

20

THE ARGUMENT, 1591.

So have I marveled to observe of late,

Hard favor'd Feminities so scant of faire, That Maskes so choicely sheltred of the aire,

As if their beauties were not theirs by fate.

John Marston in Love"1 s Martyr. [Cp. p. 395.]

AT THE private stage in Essex House the play of Hamlet has, at intervals, been on the boards since 1589. * It is mooted in social and political circles, that mine host, the bril- liant scholar and courtier Robert Devereux, second Earl of Es- sex is the author, and the play is a stinging satire on the Court.

Summoned by the Queen, Essex confesses the authorship but denies in toto that it is in any way political.2 Rumor per- sists— the play's application to the court will not down. For all parties concerned, socially, politically and religiously,3 the au- thorship must be shouldered on another,4 a-live-man-of-straw, — with a name that doth "heroically sound,"5 classical in its par- entage, synonomous, interchangeable and suggestive of Ulysses6 of old, — is wanted. The humble4 and needy player from Strat- ford is judiciously selected, very reluctantly by the Queen, with eagerness by Essex, to father Hamlet.

At this violation of truth Mother Nature is sore distraught, — she desires to honor her chief interpreter, a poet who, of necessity, has been defrauded of his work. For, after all, Ham-

1 For the date of Hamlet, see notes, pp. 114-115, and the "black ink" fig- ures, p. 205.

2 The defection of Essex and Southampton was social, not political.

Most untymely spoken was that word

That brought the world in such a woefull state, That Love and Likeing quite are overthrowne And in their place are hate and sorrowes growne." Poems of Essex. [Cp. p. 244.]

3 Cp. sub-note i, p. 162. * Cp. note 3, p. 211.

5 Cp. sub-note i, p. 113, and Spenser's lines, p. 132.

6 "With Shakespeare we are still out of doors. He was the furthest reach of subtlety compatible with an individual self." — Emerson.

21

22 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

let-Essex merely told the truth of noble Storge [Gertrude-Eliza- beth] and her ministers; besides, the play was the work of a rash youth but little past his twentieth year, and was produced in a just spirit of revenge for the insufferable slander [Leicester's Commonwealth, 1585] published and breathed in all the courts of Europe, against his mother, [Lettice Knollys] and his dearly loved stepfather [Leicester, 1588].

So, Mother Nature desires to honor her best loved son1- and the honoring shall be a play that will surpass

"All that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come."

This drama, in its analysis, shall reveal, in part, the source of our poets infinite invention and disclose the secret of his char- acter building, and though not his greatest work shall be most of all beloved.

Whom no proud flocks of other fowls could move, But in herself all company concluded.

Geo. CJiapman in Love 's Martyr. [Cp. p. 396.]

Nature's own children shall be the characters and she will tutor them in poetry — the language of the gods. As legend is far safer than innovation she will duplicate in England, Troy's famous horse. Her hero, Ulysses-Essex, shall emerge "with heraldry more dismal" and the play shall be a Masque, a Will and a Tragi-comedy to boot.

Joy's mirthful tower is thy dwelling place.

Mother Nature in Love'' s Martyr. [Cp. p. 372.]

Like many of the Comedies of Shake-speare the Masque is high-fantastical.

One rare rich Phoenix of exceeding beauty, One none-like Lily in the earth I placed; One fair Helena2 to whom men owe duty, One' country with a milk-white dove3 I graced.

One and none such, since the wide world was found

Hath ever Nature placed on the ground.

Mother Nature in Love' s Martyr^ [Cp. p. 360.]

1 Cp. Ben Jonson's lines, p. 10.

2 The characters classical, the gods of Homer in Extensa.

3 "Milk-white dove," Essex's favorite word, Dr. Grosart in Love' s Martyr,

p. XLIX.

4 Allegory for the mutilated, dismembered or dismantled play of Love" s La- bor's Won.

Love s Labor s Won; or, The Enacted Will. 23

It falls out that the Sonnets of 1609 are the text of the Mas- que, and the Dramatis Personae assumes the form of a Will, term- ing in an acrostic that "star like" rises, "fixing" the name of the beneficiary, Essex.

The characters are personified abstractions, an assemblage of the dynamic forces of nature, or the human passions defied into Muses, neither

God, Man, nor Woman, but elix'd of all.

John Marston in Love1 s Martyr. [Cp. p. 254.]

The time of the play is five years. The two star performers Mother Nature and Father Time are consummate at birth, reap- pearing in each act with the freshness of morning; the remaining eighteen characters [three in each act] are germinal, linked from act to act with hoops of steel, having a psychological pro- gression. Their term of life being one year, "they live and die as flowers do now " — yet, like Circes swine, in a pythagorean sense, memory remains, and they frequently refer to their relationship in the preceeding acts, and the possibilities of their children in suc- ceeding acts.

The twenty-two characters defined by the text of the Sonnets and generically culminating in the acrostic, are the executors of the Will who bequeath in imperishable beauty [art in verse], the name of the poet who needs "no praise but comprehension."

O the comfort of comforts, to see your children

grow up, in whom you are, as it were eternized.

Arcadia, Sidney.

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Love s Labor s Won; or, The Enacted Will. 25

/^YNEWULF puts the runes which ^^spell his name into certain connected and personal verses in the midst, or at the end, of each of these poems; and Kemble was the first to discover that these runes, when placed together, made up the poet's name. Owing to this discovery it occur- red, as we have seen, to Leo that the first Riddle contained in a charade the sylla- bles of Cynewulf's name, and that in this

way the Riddles were also signed

The Phoenix is an unsigned poem of Cyn- ewulf's In it he has passed from

doubt and fear into a rapture of faith. Pas- sage after passage is full of that lyric joy which, men tell us, belongs, at least, in the early days of that bright conviction, to those who feel themselves saved. — Early English Literature, Stop ford A. Brooke, pp. 371- 380.

Speaking of Willobie's well-known Avi- so,, 1 the Professor [Saintsbury] observes that nothing is known of Willobie2 or of Avisa. If the Professor had known any- thing about the work, he would have known that Aviso? is simply an anagram made up of the initial letters of

A^ans V2xor I3nviolata S4emper A5manda,

and that nothing is known of Avisa.— Ephemera Critica, J. C. Collins, p. ' 101.

1 Published 1594, 1596, 1605, 1609, 1635, Suppressed by Elizabeth, 1596.

2 Advice for the will-to-be. Cp. notes pp. 48, 49.

26 Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

THE MASQUE —OF—

LOVE'S LABOR'S WON.

ACT I.

MUSES REPRESENTED. RARITY — TIME — LOVE— DESIRE — NATURE.

SCENE I. MOTHER NATURE and FATHER TIME. Nature to Time. i=xxv.

Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.1 Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread But as the marigold at the sun's eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foil'd, Is from the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd: Then happy I, that love and am belov'd2 Where I may not remove nor be remov'd.3

1 Cp. the Essex lines, p. 10.

2 By my children; the characters in the Masque.

3 From this rare Masque.

Other admirable men have led lives in some sort of keeping with their thought; but this man, in wide contrast, the best poet led an obscure and profane life. I cannot marry this fact to his verse. — R. W. Emerson, Shaksperian.

Loves Labor s Won; or, The Enacted Will. 27

SCENE I.

Time to Nature. 2— xiv.

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck; And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good, or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind, Or say with princes if it shall go well, By oft predict that I in heaven find: But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art As truth and beauty shall together thrive, If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;1 Or else of thee this I prognosticate: Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

1 Mother Nature herself a dramatist. Cp. all of frontispage 10.

The rugged Pyrrhus

in the ominous horse,1

Hath now

With heraldry

horridly trick'd2

....Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sons.3 Hamlet, n. 2.

1 The Turtle Dove [England's Wooden Horse] being the Dramatis Personae of the Masque contains the name of Ulysses-Essex.

2 Adorned.

3 The gods and goddesses of this psychological comedy.

28 Shake-spear e England's Ulysses,

ACT I.

Nature to Time. 3= — LXV.

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower ? O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?1 Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back ? Or who his spoil of Beauty can forbid? O, none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink2 my love may still shine bright. *

1 Mother Nature's love is a dual one, first, through modesty, for her Phoenix Masque, and then for the author of the Masque. Cp. Drayton's Son., p. 246.

2 Cp. the acrostic running through the anti-masque, pp. 160-168.

The Phoenix prophecy in Henry VIIL is also dual, Essex usurping, for his phcenix play, Elizabeth's emblem, cp. p. 220.

Dualisms of the Exposition.

"A double darkness drowns the mind." [Cp. note 2, p. 341.]

!i. Personal Love Sonnets. "Only by dying born the very same." 2. A Dismantled Masque.

, T^u . \ i. The Sonnets of 1600, a Dismantled Masque. Nature s Phoenix j ^ ^^ Qur true Sha9ke.speare.

!i. Prior to 1601, the Dismantled Masque of Lovers Labor's Won. 2. Subsequent to 1601, Essex and the Masque.

„,, <-, r , i i. Willobie's Avisa.

The Sonnets of 1609 \ 2< chester-s Phoenix.

Loves Labor s Won; or, The Enacted Will. 29

SCENE I.

Time to Nature. 4=Lvm.

That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, Th' imprison'd absence of your liberty;1 And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, Without accusing you of injury. Be where you list, your charter is so strong, That you yourself may privilege your time To what you will; to you it doth belong Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime.3 I am to wait, though waiting so be hell: Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well.

1 Answering line 14, Son. B-LXV. ; i. e., while it is your pleasure to divulge in "black ink" [acrostic] the name of your chief interpreter, yet the requisite ab- sence springing from this liberty will prove an imprisonment to me.

2 The then disesteem of dramatic writing:

By the way sweet Nature tell me this, Is this the Moly that is excellent, For strong Enchantments, and the Adder's hiss? Love' s Martyr, cp. frontispage 2.

Of the man Shakespeare we know nothing. From the nature of dramatic writing the author's personality is inevitably veiled; no letter, no saying of his or description by any intimate friend, has been preserved, — Songs and Son- nets of Shakespeare, F, T. Palgrave.

30 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ACT I.

Nature to Time. 5=xxm.

As an imperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put beside his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage; Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; So I, for fear of trust, forget to say The perfect ceremony of love's rite, And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, O'ercharg'd with burden of mine own love's might. O, let my books1 be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love and look for recompense, More than that tongue2 that more hath more express'd. O, learn to read what silent love hath writ: To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

1 A play, cp. Ben Jonson's introduction to Sejanus, p. 222.

Gosson in his Schoole of Abuse, contayning a pleasaunt invective against Poets, Pipers, Players, Jesters, and such like Caterpillars of a Commonwealth, 1579, mentions "twoo prose Bookes plaied at the Belsauage;" and Hearne tells us, in a note at the end of William of Worcester, that he had seen "a MS. in the nature of a Play or Interlude, intitled, the Booke of Sir Thomas Moore." — Richard Farmer, 1767. Cp. Smith* i Eighteenth Century Essays on Shakespeare, p. 202.

3 Time's tongue, cp. Son. 2-xiv. 11. n, 12, and note 4, p. 121.

Love s Labor s Won; or, The Enacted Will. 31

SCENE I.

Time to Nature. 6==LVii.

Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire ? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence2 sour When you have bid your servant once adieu; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought, Save, where you are, how happy you make those. So true a fool is love that in your Will, 2 Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

\_Exeunt.

1 A time-server, "foul precurrer of the fiend." Cp. 1. 2, p. 261.

2 Cp. Note i, Son. 4-Lvm. It seems that Nature's "imprison'd absence" was to write a Will that in literature and law could not be paralleled or broken, but was to last "until the stars totter and are punctual no more in their arithmetic."

3 At a first view of Scene I., the reader will suspect that a blunder has been made in not treating the entire scene, or a part of it, as a Prologue, from the fact of the characters speaking of the play in the play — but Jonson seems to have decided against the prologue. Cp. his Love* s Martyr lines, stanza 7, P- 397-

32 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ACT I.

SCENE II. MOTHER NATURE and THE GOD OF RARITY.

Rarity. 1 7=Lxii.

Sin of self-love2 possesseth all mine eye,

And all my soul, and all my every part;

And for this sin there is no remedy,

It is so grounded inward in my heart.

Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,

No shape so true, no truth of such account;

And for myself mine own worth do define,

As I all other in all worths surmount.

But when my glass shows me myself indeed,

Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity,

Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;

Self so self-loving were iniquity.

'Tis thee, 3 myself,4 that for myself I praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy days.

1 Dr. Martineau, in his "Types of Ethical Theory," affirms that the assump- tion of Plato that Wonder is the primitive intellectual impulse; has, perhaps, its most emphatic expression in his Theatetus, 1550., where he says, Wonder is the special affection of a philosopher; for philosophy has no other starting point than this. — Shake-speare in Baconian Light, Theobald, p. 80.

Rarity the father of Wonder, "if a thing ba rare, though in kind it be no way extraordinary, yet it is wondered at ... for wonder is the child of Rar- ity." — Nov. Org., ii. xxxi., Francis Bacon.

2 Of his [Essex's] other writings, his "Darling Piece of Love and Self-love" is particularly named by Sir H. Wotten. It is, I believe, not extant. — Lives of the Earls of Essex, Devereux, Vol. II. p. 195.

3 Mother Nature.

* Nature's rare Pho?nix Masque, represented by the god of Rarity in Act I.

Loves Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 33

SCENE II.

Nature to the god of Rarity. 8==cv.

Let not my love1 be call'd idolatry, Nor my beloved as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love to-day, to morrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence;2 Therefore my verse to constancy3 confin'd, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. 'Fair, kind, and true' is all my argument, 'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three4 themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. 'Fair, kind, and true' have often liv'd alone, Which three, 5 till now, never kept seat in one.

1 This rare Phoenix Masque represented by the god of Rarity in Act I.

2 Cp. note 2, p. 37.

3 "And thou of time shall live beyond the end." — Draytort 's Allusion to the Phoenix [Masque], 1594. Cp. p. 246.

* The evolution of all things is explained by the play of three forces: Neces- sity, Love and Hatred. — Empedocles.

5 For sources of the Masque's framework, see foundation lines, p. 253.

Tower Green — The space in front of the Chapel is called Tower Green, and was used as a burial ground; in the middle is a small square plot, paved with granite, showing the site on which stood at rare intervals the scaffold on which private executions took place. It has been specially paved by the orders of Her late Majesty. The following persons are known to have been executed on this spot: —

1. Queen Anne Boleyn, igth May, 1536.

2. Margaret Countess of Salisbury, 2yth May, 1541.

3. Queen Katharine Howard, i3th February, 1542.

4. Jane Viscountess Rochford, i3th February, 1542.

5. Lady Jane [Grey], i2th February, 1554.

6. Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, 25th February, 1601.

The executioner of the Earl of Essex was not able to do his work with less than three strokes, and was mobbed and beaten by the populace on his way home. The bodies of all six were buried in the Chapel of St. Peter. — The Tozver of London, W. J. Loftie, p. 32.

34 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ACT I.

Rarity1 to Nature. 9=xvi.

But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time ? And fortify yourself in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit;2 So should the lines of life that life repair, Which this time's pencil or my pupil pen, Neither in inward worth nor outward, fair, Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. To give away yourself keeps yourself still, And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

1 Beauty, Truth, and RARITY, Grace in all simplicity, Here enclosed in cinders lie. The rinvni\ and Turtle. [Cp. 1. i, p. 259.]

2 Point of contact between Loi>c ' s Marlvr and the Sonnets of 1609:

When all the rest beheld this counterfeit, They knew the substance1 was of rarer price: Some gaz'd upon her face, on which did wait As messengers, her two cellestial eyes;

Hyes wanting fire, did give a lightning flame HOTJU much more would her eyes man's senses lame. Love's J\/itr/vr, Roberl Chester, p. 16.

3 The Masque is Nature's own drama. Cp. couplet, Son. y-Lxn.

And he, the man whom Nature self had made. Spenser, 1591. [Cp. frontispage 10.]

1 The dialogue between Dame Nature, the Phoenix and the Turtle in Love's Martyr is play by example for this Sonnet Masque.

One Phoenix born, another Phoenix burn. Love's Martyr, p. 181,

Loves Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 35

SCENE II.

Nature to Rarity. IO=LII.

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet. So is the time that keeps you as my chest, } Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, j To make some* special instant special blest, By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.2

Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope. 3

\_Exeunt.

1 Cp. Son. 3-i.xv., 1. 10.

2 Cp. note 2, p. 31.

3 As yet the one contemporary book [ IVillobiehis Avisa1] which has ever been supposed to throw any direct or indirect light on the mystic matter remains as inaccessible and unhelpful to students as though it had never been published fifteen years earlier than the date of publication and four years before the book in which Meres notices the circulation of Shakespeare's "Sugared Sonnets among his private friends." — A Studv of Shakespeare^ Swinburne^ 1879, p. 62.

1 Since this passage first went to press, I have received from Dr. Grosart the most happy news that he had procured a perfect copy of this precious volume, and will shortly add it to his occasional issues of golden waifs and strays forgotten by the ebb-tide of time. Not even the disinterment of Robert Chester's "glorified" poem [Love's Martyr, or Rosalin's Complaint], with its appended jewels of verse [The Phoenix and Turtle Dove] from Shakespeare's very hand and from others only less great than Shakespeare's, all now at last reset in their strange original framework, was a gift of greater price than this. — A Study of Shakespeare \ r879, P- 63.

36 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT!

SCENE III. THE GODS OF LOVE and DESIRE. Desire to Love. n=xxxvii.

As a decrepit father takes delight

To see his active child do deeds of youth,

So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,

Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.

For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,

Or any of these all, or all, or more,

Entitled in their parts, do crowned sit,

I make my love engrafted to this store:

So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,

Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give,

That I in thy abundance am suffic'd

And by a part of all thy glory live.

Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee: This wish I have; then ten times happy me!

The Phoenix and Turtle Dove.1 — "The genuineness of the contribution with Shakespeare's name subscribed is now generally admitted, though no successful attempt has yet been made to explain the allegory. In all probability the oc- casion and subject of the whole collection, which has so long baffled patient re- search, will some day be discovered, and Shakespeare's meaning will be clear. There is not much to 'be said in favor of the view that the Phoenix shadows forth Queen Elizabeth, and the Turtle-Dove typifies Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex." — Shakespeare's Sonnets Etc.^ israet Qollancz, p. xxx,

1 Cp. William Shake-speare's Will, P. 257.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 37

SCENE III.

Love to Desire. i2=LVi.

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but to-day by feeding is allay 'd, To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might: So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness, To-morrow see again, and do not kill The spirit of Love with a perpetual dullness. * Let this sad int'rim like the ocean be Which parts the shore where two contracted new Come daily to the banks, that, when they see Return of love, more blest may be the view; Else call it winter, which being full of care Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.

1 What may we wonder at? O where is learning? Where is all difference 'twixt the good and bad? Where is Appelles art? where is true cunning? Nay where is all the vertue may be had? Within my Turtle's1 bosom, she refines, More then some loving perfect true devines.2 Love"1 s Martyr, Robert Chester, p. 135.

1 The Dramatis Persona? of the Masque.

2 Although Shake-speare has been accounted the "priest of all time," "the great teacher in all earthly affairs," yet I question whether his preaching is anywhere so pronounced as in this Sonnet Masque.

38 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT!

Desire to Love. i3=XLin.

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright are bright in dark directed. Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, How would thy shadow's form form happy show To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night1 thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights, bright days when dreams do show thee me.

1 'In night' quoth she, 'desire sees best of all.' Venus and Adam's, 1. 720.

In the case of the authorship of the Shakespearian Plays, there are circum- stances of difficulty which are common to both the candidates [Shakspere and

Bacon] for this supreme distinction The contemporaries of the great

dramatist were loud in their admiration of his work, but they say nothing of the man. They talk of the honey-tongued Shakespeare, but they do not tell us who the honey-tongued Shakespeare was,1 .... whoever was entitled to that

glorious name he never claimed it As to the Player, the great nobles

who are said to have been his patrons are wholly silent. A.s.sv.v makes no men- tion of his name; Southampton never alludes to him; Pembroke was not ac- quainted with him. — The Mystery of William Shakespeare, Judge Webb, Baconian.

1 Cp. The Buzzing Bee's Complaint^ p. 335.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 39

SCENE III.

Love to Desire. i4=cxxix.

Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjur'd murd'rous, bloody, full of blame. Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; Enjoy'd no sooner, but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had, Past reason hated; as a swallow'd bait, On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and prov'd, a very woe; Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream.

All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heav'n that leads men to this hell.1

1 The mounting Phoenix,1 chast desire, '/'his Virtue Frani* d, to conquer Vice, This Not-seene Nimph,1 this Heatlesse Fire, This Chast Found Bird, of noble price, Was nam'd Avisal by decree, That name and nature might agree.

Henrv Willobie, 1594, p. 152.

The time will come, when the unreasoning conservatism in the public mind on the subject of the authorship of "Shake-speare" will be universally regretted as a reflection upon the scholarship of our age. From the banks of the Mis- souri;2 from the wheat fields of Minnesota; from far-off Melbourne; out of the heart of humanity somewhere; a response in due time is sure to come. — Bac- on vs. Shaksperc, Edu'in Reed, Baconian.

1 Allegory for the Masque of Love's Labor's Won.

z "In requital of your prophecy, hark you." — Meas. for Meas. n. i.

40 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ACT I.

Desire to Love. 15 — xxxvi.

Let me confess that we two must be twain, Although our undivided loves are one; So shall those blots that do with me remain, Without thy help, by me be borne alone. In our two loves there is but one respect, Though in our lives a separable spite, Which though it alter not love's sole effect, Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. I may not evermore acknowledge thee, Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, ! Nor thou with public kindness honour me, Unless thou take that honour from thy name: But do not so; I love thee in such sort As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

1 How much more would her [the Masque] eyes man's senses tame. Robert Chester's Love's Martyr, p. 16.

Can Britaine breede no Phoenix1 bird,

No constant feme in English field?

To Greece to Rome, is there no third,

Hath Albion none that will not yield? If this affirme you will not dare, Then let me Faith with Faith compare. Willobie'1 s Ai'i'sa,1 p. 152.

1 From the foot notes to Act I, the reader will perceive that Chester's Phoenix and Willobie' s Aviso, are neither bird, woman nor person but dual allegories for the dismantled Masque pub- lished under the name of Shake-speare' s Sonnets in 1609.

Loves Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 41

SCENE III.

Love to Desire. i6=xxxix.

O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That by this separation I may give That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone. O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove, Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave To entertain the time with thoughts of love, Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, And that thou teachest how to make one twain, By praising him here who doth hence remain!

Penelope must now contend For chaste renown: whose constant heart, Both Greeks and Latines all commend With poore Aviso, new upstart,

I scorne to speake much in this case,

Her prayses Rivall is1 so base.

Henry Willobie? 1594.

1 That is, "Rivall's prayses are."

In one sense, no doubt, Shakespere is unequal — as life is. He is not always at the tragic heights of Othello and Hamlet, at the comic raptures of Falstaff and Sir Toby, at the romantic ecstasies of Romeo and Titania. Neither is life. But he is always — and this is the extraordi- nary and almost inexplicable difference, not merely between him and all his contemporaries, but between him and all other writers— at the height of the Particular situation. — History of English Literature, Saintsbury, p. 164.

2 For the identity of this hitherto unknown and never-again-heard-of poet [except in Wtllo- bie's Avz'sa], see pen names of Essex, frontispiece.

42 Shake-spectre England' s Ulysses,

ACT I

Desire to Love. i7=Lxxiv.

But be contented: when that fell arrest Without all bail shall cany me away, My life hath in this line some interest, Which for memorial still -with thee shall stay. When thou reviewest this, thou dost review The very part was consecrate to thee: The earth can have but earth, which is his due; My spirit is thine, the better part of me: So then thou hast but lost the dregs1 of life, The prey of worms, my body being dead, The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, Too base of thee to be remembered.

The worth of that is that which it contains, And that is this, and this with thee remains.

1 The vanity and malignity of the affections, leave nothing but impotency and confusion. — Int. of Nature, Francis Bacon, p. 67.

But yet, if further you will have mv conceit , the order, words, and frame of the whole discourse, force me to think that which I am unwilling to say: That this name insinuateth, that there was never such a woman scene, as here is de- scribed. For the word A'visa is compounded fafter the Greeke manner] of the privative particle A, which signifieth Non: and of the participle J7su*\ /V.sv/, Ft sum, which signifieth, Seene: So that .-ITI'SK should signifie [by this] as much as Non Visa, that is: Such a woman as was never seene. Which if it bee true, then A visa1 is yet unborne, that must rejoyce in this prayse. Tlic Apolo^fe, Willobie1 s Avisa, p. 145.

1 Allegory for the Masque of Love's Labor1 s Won.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 43

SCENE III.

Love to Desire, i S=CXLIX.

Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, When I against myself1 with thee partake? Do I not think on thee, when I forgot Am of myself, all tyrant for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon? Nay, if thou lower'st on me, do I not spend Revenge upon myself with present moan? What merit do I in myself respect, That is so proud thy service to despise, When all my best doth worship thy defect, Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?

But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind, Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind.

1 She quels by Reason filthy lust, Shee chokes by Wisdome leude Desires, Shee shunnes the baite that fondlings trust, From Sathan Heights she quite retires, Then let A^'isd'sl prayse be spread, When rich and poore, when all are dead. Henry Wityobie, 1594, p. 154.

From Sappho and Solomon to Shelley and Mr. Swinburne, many bards have spoken excellently of love: but what they have said could be cut out of Shake- spere's Sonnets better said than they have said it, and yet enough remain to fur- nish forth the greate.st of poets. — History of English Literature, Saint sbury, p. 164.

1 Allegory, The Masque of Love's Labor's Won.

44 Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

ACT I.

Desire to Love. i9=cxxxvi.

If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, ! And 'Will,'2 thy soul knows, is admitted there; Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. 'Will'3 will fulfil the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, 4 and my will5 one. In things of great receipt with ease we prove Among a number one is reckon'd none: Then in the number let me pass untold, Though in thy store's account I one must be; For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lov'st me, for my name is Will.

\_Exeunt.

To what depth of vapidity Shakespeare and contemporary funsters could sink is nowhere better illustrated than in the favour they bestowed on efforts to ex- tract amusement from the parities and disparities of form and meaning subsist- ing between the words 'will' and 'wish.' — rFhe 'iri/T Sonnets, Sidney Lee, p. 418.

1 Poet, interpreter of Love's "blind soul."

'Willy' was a general name for a Shepherd; i. e., poet. — Shakespeare's Son- nets, Massey, p. 511.

Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late. — Tears of the Muses, Spenser.

The characters in the Masque call themselves Poets seven times and Muses, fifteen times. The goddess Hope designates Knowledge as a god in Son. 63-cx.

2 The poet Desire, "thy soul knows, is admitted there."

3 The poet Desire.

* Self-will and good will.

5 Wish, good will.

6 Love only my name [something less than loving myself] and then thou lovest me, for my name is Will . . . . i. e., all Desire. — Shakespeare"1 s Sonnets, DOTJU- den, p. 238.

Loves Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 45

SCENE IV.

MOTHER NATURE, FATHER TIME and THE GODS OF RARITY, LOVE and DESIRE.

Nature to Rarity. 2o=Lxiv.

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defac'd The rich proud cost of outworn buried age ; When sometime lofty towers I see down-raz'd And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main. Increasing store with loss, and loss with store; When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded to decay; Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, That Time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death, which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose.

In Lavine land though Livie boast, There have beene scene a Constant Dame: Though Rome lament that she have lost The garland of her rarest fame Yet now ye see that here is found, As great a faith in English ground.1

Though Collatine have dearly bought, To high renowne a lasting life, And found, that most in vaine have sought, To have a faire and constant wife

Yet Tarquine pluckt his glistering grape, And Shake-speare2 paints poore Lucrece rape. Willobie1 s Amsa, 1594, P- r5-

1 Aviso., allegory for this Sonnet Masque.

2 The first mention of Shake-speare's name in literature.

46 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT I.

Time to Rarity. 2i=xi.

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st, In one of thine from that which thou departest; And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow' st Thou may'st call thine when thou from youth convertest. Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase; Without this, folly, age, and cold decay: If all were minded so, the times should cease And threescore year would make the world away. Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Look, whom she best endow'd, she gave the more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish; She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

It seems certain that the author of the wondrous plays was one of the noblest of men, and yet it is true we know but little of Shakespeare; no letter of his to any human being has been found, and no line written by him can be shown; but we do know Bacon, and we know that he was a time-server of church and king and a corrupt judge and that 'he could not have written these plays — conse- quently they must have been written by -a comparatively unknown man — that is to say, by a man who was known by no other writings. — Shakespeare A Lecture, Robert G. Ingersoll, Shaksperian.

Loves Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 47

SCENE IV.

Nature to Rarity. 22=LXiii.

Against my love shall be, as I am now, )

With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn; ) ] When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night, And all those beauties whereof now he's king Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, Stealing away the treasure of his spring; For such a time do I now fortify Against confounding age's cruel knife, That he shall never cut from memory My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life: His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, And they shall live, and he in them still green.

1 For Shake-speare's indebtedness to Sophocles in the use of irony, see Stud- ies in Shakespeare, J. Ckurton Collins, p. 92. 3 Cp. note i, p. 33.

Let wise Ulysses constant mate,

Vaunt noble birth her richest boast,

Yet will her challenge come too late,

When pride and wealth have done their most, For this Aviso, from above Came down, whose sire is mighty Jove.1

Willobie1 s Avisa, p. 137.

To be told that he played a trick on his brother player in a licentious amour, or that he died of a drunken frolic .... does not exactly inform us of the man who wrote "Lear." — Ilallam.

1 Cp. note 2, p. 37. and use of the word in Hamlet, note 2, p. 237-

48 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

ACT I.

Time to Desire.1 23=— vm.

Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly ? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly, Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother, Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:

Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee: 'thou single wilt prove none.'

1 If music be the food of love, play on:

Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken; and so die.

Twelfth Night, i. i.

1 Let the priest in surplice white, That defunctive music can, Be the death-divining Swan Lest the requiem lack his right.

The Phoenix and Turtle Dove.

There can be no doubt that Henry Willobie's alleged authorship is a literary hoax, and that the publication contained matter of a satirical and perhaps libel- lous nature; hence in 1596 it was "called in." — Shakespeare's Sonnets, Israel Gollancz, p. xviii.

Love s Labor s IVon; Or, The Enacted Will. 49

SCENE IV.

Nature to Love. 24=ix.

Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,

That thou consum'st thyself in single life?

Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die,

The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;

The world will be thy widow and still weep,

That thou no form of thee has left behind, }

When every private widow well may keep,

By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind.

Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend,

Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;

But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,

And kept unus'd, the user so destroys it.

No love toward others in that bosom sits .

That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.

\_Exeunt.

1 Cp. note i, p. 47.

Doubt is justifiable as to whether the story of "Avisa" and her lovers is not fic- titious. In a preface signed Hadrian Dorell, the writer, after mentioning that the alleged author [Willobie] was abroad, discusses somewhat enigmatically whether or no the work is "a poetical fiction." In a new edition of 1596 the same editor decides the question in the affirmative. — A Life of William Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 157.

50 Shake-spear e England 's Ulysses,

ACT II.

MUSES REPRESENTED. WONDER — TIME — REASON— ENVY — NATURE.

SCENE I. Enter THE GODDESS REASON and THE GOD OF WONDER.

Wonder.1 25=0x1.

Love is too young to know what conscience is; Yet who knows not conscience is born of love ?2 Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For, thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body's treason; My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason; But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee, As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. . No want of conscience hold it that I call Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall.

1 Wonder is the child of Rarity. — Nov. Org,, xxxi.

2 Those lips [Reason's] that Love' sown hand did make, Cp. Son, 47-cxLV.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 5 1

SCENE I.

Reason. 26=0x1.

O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide, Than public means which public manners breeds. ! Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, 3 And almost thence my nature is subdued ) To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: f 3 Pity me then and wish I w^ere renew'd; Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection; No bitterness that I will bitter think, Nor double penance, to correct correction. Pity me then, dear friend, arid I assure ye Even that your pity is enough to cure me.

1 Cp. Son. 42-cxxxvn. 11. 6 and 10.

2 O strange excuse,

When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse. I'eniis (tnd Adonis, 1. 791.

3 It is a false assertion that the sense of man is the measure of things: on the contrary, all perceptions as well of the sense as of the mind are according to the measure of the individual and not according to the measure of the universe, — Nov. Org., XLI.

52 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II,

}\\mdcr. 27==xxxv.

No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done : Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. All men make faults, and even I in this, Authorizing thy trespass with compare, Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, Excusing thy sins, more than thy sins are; For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense— Thy adverse party is thy advocate— And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence: Such civil war is in my love and hate, That I an accessary needs must be To that sweet thief which sourlv robs from me.

1 Feed yourselves with questioning,

That reason wonder may diminish.

As You Like It, v. 4, 1. 145,

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 53

SCENE I.

Reason. 28=LX.

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown 'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities1 of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

1 The dissipation of wonder by the advent of knowledge. . . . Wonder is the vestibule of knowledge the sentiment that is left when we pass beyond the porch and enter the dwelling — Shakespeare in Kaconiun Light, Theo- bald, pp. 83, 84.

54 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II

Wonder. 29=cxxv.

Wer't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring. Or laid great bases for eternity, Which prove more short than waste or ruining? Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour Lose all, and more, bv paying too much rent, For compound sweet foregoing simple savour. Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?1 No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, And take thou my oblation, poor but free, Which is not mix'd with seconds, ~ knows no art, But mutual render, only me for thee.

Hence, thou suborn'd3 informer! a true soul When most impeach'd stands least in thy control.

1 The characters being Pythagoreans, H'ottt/t-r was AWr/'/v in Act I. and saw Love and Desire dismissed by Time and Xature. — Act I. Scene IV.

2 The god of Wonder being the favorite of Xalure, the antithesis demands that the goddesses Reason and Envy should be the fools of Time and they are so shown in Son. 32-cxxiv.

3 Cp. Son. 43-cLii., 1. 6.

.... She hath prosperous art, When she will play with reason and discourse. Measure for Measure, i. 2, 1. 190.

Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason.

Second Henry //'. , iv. i, 1. 191.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 55

SCENE I.

Reason. 3O=cxLvi.

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Trick'd1 by these rebel powers2 that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more:

So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men, And death once dead, there's no more dying then.3

^Curtain.

1 Trick'd [adorned], the missing word is supplied by Hamlet. Cp. note i, p. 27.

2 Time and Reason. Cp. Son. 28 i.x. 11. 9, 10.

Be wary then; best safety lies in fear: Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. Hamlet, i. 3, 1. 44.

3 The philosophic complexion of the Masque is nowhere better illustrated than in this Sonnet.

56 Shake-speare England* s Ulysses,

ACT II,

SCENE II. Enter MOTHER NATURE and FATHER TIME. Time. 3i=LTX.

If there be nothing new, but that which is Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd, Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss The second burthen of a former child!1 O, that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, \ Since mind2 at first in character was done! j That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame; Whe'r we are mended, or whe'r better they, Or whether revolution be the sam.e. O, sure I am, the wits of former days To subjects worse have given admiring praise.

1 In Act I. the god of Rarity was the favorite of Xaturc. In Act II. envious and servile Time being the disturbing element in the play, naturally has an aver- sion to Wonder, the child of Rarity.

2 It must be born in mind that ths characters in tha play are the gods and goddesses of Homer in extenso [Cp. Dedicatory Son. LXXVII., 11. 9 to 14,], and that the play is partly founded on the lines of Aristophanes. "There were no gods 'til Love mingled all things; and by the mixture of the different with the different Heaven came to be, and Ocean, and Earth and the undying race of all the blessed gods." The ardent love between the characters is merely Platonic, unmixed with carnal desire and regards the Mind only.

All is mind,

As far from spot, as pDssible definir'-;.

John Marston, in I.'n'c s J//r.'vr, p 187. 15 Cp. Sen. 9j-cvi.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 57

SCENE II.

Nature. 32=cxxiv.

If my dear love1 were but the child of state, It2 might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd, As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. No, iuwas builded far from accident; It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls Under the blow of thralled discontent, Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls: It fears not policy, that heretic, Which works on leases of short-numb 'red hours, But all alone stands hugely politic, That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. To this I witness call the fools of Time, 3 \Vhich die for oodness, who have liv'd for crime.4

t Nature*

1 The god of ll'omlcr.

2 The Sonnets do not speak to beings of flesh and blood. — fiarnstorfi. :! The goddesses Reason and Enry. Cp. note 2, p. 54.

4 And he, the man whom Nature's self had made 7'o mock herself, and truth to imitate.

'fears of the Muses, Spenser, 1591.

58 Shake- sp ear e England' s Ulysses,

ACT II. Time. 33=xxi.

So is it not with me as with that Muse1 Stirr'd by a painted beauty2 to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse; Making a couplement of proud compare, With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, I With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems. O, let me, true in love, but truly write, \_Enter Envy. And then believe me, my love4 is as fair As any mother's5 child, though not so bright As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air: Let them say more that like of hearsay well;6 I will not praise that purpose not to sell.

1 The god of Wonder.

2 The goddess Reason.

The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, Is not more ugly.

Hamlet, in. i.

Reason is the bawd to lust's abuse.

I'enus and Adonis, 1. 791.

3 Cp. Son. 2y-xxxv. 11. 2-4.

4 The goddess Envy.

5 Referring to Xaturc.

c In Sons, ai-xi. and 84-civ. it is shown that the characters [excepting Time and Nature} are Pythagoreans, [preserving the gift of memory after death]. In "hearsay well" Time is referring to the formula "He said it" adopted by the diciples of Pythagoras, when they alluded to any of the doctrines of their teacher.

Cp. Plato's Works [Bohn's Libraries], Vol. VI. p. 239.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 59

SCENE II.

Envy. 34=vcxxm.

How oft, when thou, my music1 music play'st, 2 Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks3 that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blest than living lips; Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.

1 Is it that only rhythmical music is envied or does she answer the last six lines of Son. 33-xxi.?

2 Explained psychologically by Beauty to Ambition, 1. n, Son. in-cn.

"But that wild music burthens every bough."

Kni'y being the grandmother of Ambition, this is one of the secrets of Shake- speare's character building revealed in the Dramatis Personae of the Masque.

When we think a thing, we, ordinary men, we only think a part of it; we see one side, some isolated mark, sometimes two or three marks together; for what is beyond, our sight fails us; the infinite network of its infinitely-complicat- ed and multiplied properties escapes us ... We are like tyro naturalists . . . who, wishing to represent an animal, recall its name and ticket in the museum, with some indistinct image of its hide and figure . . . Picture to yourself, the complete idea, that is, an inner representation, so abundant and full that it ex- hausts all the properties and relations of the object, all its inward and outward aspects . . . and beyond this its instincts, their composition, their causes, their history .... there you have the artist's conception — Shakespeare's. — English Literature, Taine, Vol. I. p. 339.

3 Keys.

60 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

ACT II,

Time. 35=cxxxvm.

When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. But wherefore says she not she is unjust0 And wherefore say not I that I am old? O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not to have years told: Therefore I lie1 with her and she with me, And in our faults by lies we rlatter'd be.

[ Curtain.

1 I smilingly credit her falsities. Thus, on both sides, we suppress the real facts, and I lie to her, while she lies to me, and so by reciprocal falsehoods, we flatter each other's vanities. ./ Xcic Study of Shakespeare s Sonnets, dod-^-in, p. 140.

Love 's Labor's Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 61

SCENE III.

Enter THE GODDESS REASON and THY, GOD OF WONDER. Wonder. 36=XLVin.

How careful was I, when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust ! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, Thou, best of dearest and mine only care, Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. ! Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, Within the gentle closure of my breast, From whence at pleasure thou may'st come and part; And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear. For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

1 O! reason not the need; our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous.

Lear, n. 4, 1. 267,

62 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II,

Reason. 37=XLiv.

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way; For then despite of space I would be brought, From limits far remote, where thou dost stay. 1 No matter then although my foot did stand Upon the farthest earth remov'd from thee; For nimble thought can jump both sea and land As soon as think the place where he would be. But, ah ! thought kills me that I am not thought To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, But that, so much of earth and water wrought, I must attend time's leisure with my moan, Receiving nought by elements so slow But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

1 Things which really call for Wonder .... if we have them by us in com- mon use, are but slightly noticed .... among the singularities of nature I place the sun, the moon, the magnet, and the like. — .\ '<•>?'. ()>',ff., Book II., xxxi,

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted . Will. 63

SCENE III.

Wonder. 38=L.

How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say, 'Thus far the miles are measur'd from thy friend!' The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me. As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee: The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide; Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side:

For that same groan doth put this in my mind;

My grief lies onward and my joy behind. !

1 When wonder ceases, knowledge begins. — Shakespeare in Baconian Light , Theobald, p. 80,

64 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II.

39— XLV.

The other two, slight air, and purging lire, ' Are both with thee, wherever I abide; The first my thought, the other my desire, These present-absent with swift motion slide. For when these quicker elements are gone In tender embassy of love to thee, My life, being made of four, ~ with two alone Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; Until life's composition be recur'd By those swift messengers return'd from thee, Who e'en but now come back again, assur'd Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: This told, I joy ; but then no longer glad, I send them back again and straight grow sad.

1 Chiding that tongue [ Reason's} that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom.

Son. 47-cxLV. 1. 6.

2 Does not our life consist of the four elements.

Tu'dft/i \ifffrti ii. 3.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 65

SCENE III.

Wonder. 40=0

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: From where thou art, why should I haste me thence? Till I return, of posting is no need. O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, When swift extremity can seem but slow? Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind; In winged speed no motion shall I know: Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made, Shall neigh, no dull flesh in his fiery race; But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, Towards thee I '11 run, and give him leave to go.

The only bird alone that Nature frames,

When weary of the tedious life she lives,

By fire dies, yet finds new life in flames:

Her ashes to her shape new essence gives.

For hapless loe even with my own desires

I figured on the table of my heart,

The goodliest shape that the world's eye admires,

And so did perish by my proper art.

And still I toil to change t,he marble breast

Of her whose sweet Idea I adore,

Yet cannot find her breath unto my rest;

Hard is her heart, and woe is me therefore.

O blessed he that joyes his stone and art,

Unhappy I to love a stony heart.1

Samuel Daniel, 1591 [Cp. Grosart"1 s Daniel, Vol. I. p. 25] 1 The first allusion in literature to this Phoenix Masque,

66 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II,

Reason to Wonder. 41=0111.

Alack, what poverty my muse brings forth, That having such a scope to show her pride, The argument all bare is of more worth Than when it hath my added praise beside! O, blame me not, if I no more can write! Look in your glass, * and there appears a face That over-goes my blunt invention quite, Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace. 2 Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, To mar the subject that before was well? For to no other pass my verses tend, Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;

And more, much more, than in my verse can sit Your own glass1 shows you when you look in it.

\_Exeunt.

1 Cp. Dedicatory Son. LXXVII. 1. i.

2 The human understanding is like a false mirror, which, receiving rays ir- regularly, distorts and discolours the nature of things by mingling its own nature with it. — Nov. Org., XLI,

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 67

SCENE IV.

Enter THE GODDESS ENVY. [THE GODDESS REASON in the background.]

Envy. 42=cxxxvn.

Thou blind fool, Love, 1 what dost thou to mine eyes,

That they behold, and see not what they see?

They know what beauty is, see where it lies,

Yet what the best is, take the worst to be.

If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks,

Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,2

Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,

Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?

Why should my heart think that a several plot

Which my heart knows the wide world's common place ?

Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not,

To put fair truth upon so foul a face?3

In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd, And to this false plague4 are they now transferr'd.

\^Reason comes forward.

1 Cp. note 2, p. 56.

2 Wherefore should I stand in the plague of custom. — Lear, i. 2.

3 Cp. note i, p. 69.

4 A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin. — Troihis and Crestda, in. 3.

If reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason, — First Henry IV., n. 4.

68 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II

Reason. 43=CLii.

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, * But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; In act thy bed- vow broke2 and new faith torn In vowing new hate after new love bearing. But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjur'd3 most; For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, And all my honest faith in thee is lost: For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, 4 Or made them swear against the thing they see; For I have sworn thee fair; more perjur'd I, To swear against the truth so foul a lie!

1 Scene I., Reason is in love with Wonder.

2 Scene II., Envy is in love with Time, 8 Cp. Son. 29-cxxv., 1. 13.

* Cp. Son. 14-cxxix,

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 69

SCENE IV.

Envy. 44=cxLii.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments, And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, Robb'd others' beds' revenues "of their rents. Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example may'st thou be denied!

1 Reason is the bawd to lust's abuse. Venus and Adonis, 1. 791.

Time's office is to finish the hate of foes; To eat up errors by opinion bred, Not spend the dowry of a lawful bed.

Lucrece, \. 937.

70 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II

Reason. 45=LXVi.

Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill:

Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

O, Opportunity, thy guilt is great!

'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, &!(. Reason.

Thou makest the vestal violate her oath;

Thou blowest the fire when temperance is thaw'd;

Thou smother 'st honesty, thou murder 'st troth;

Thou foul abettor! thou notorious bawd!

Thou plantest scandal, and displaces! laud: Thou ravisher, thou traitor, thou false thief, Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief.

Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, Thy private feasting to a public fast, Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name, Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter wormwood taste: Thy violent vanities can never last: How comes it then vile Opportunity, Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee?

Lucrece, 11. 876-896.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, J^he Enacted Will. 71

SCENE IV.

Envy. 46=cxLvn.

My love is as a fever, longing still

For that which longer nurseth the disease,

Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,

Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please.

My reason, 1 the physician to my love,

Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,

Hath left me, and I desperate now approve

Desire is death, which physic did except.

Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,

And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;

My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,

At random from the truth vainly express'd;

For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

\_Enter Dame Nature.

1 Though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his coun- sellor.— Merry Wives, n. i.

Hereat, Reason, seated on the top of the globe, as in the brain, or highest part of man, figured in a venerable personage, her hair white, and trailing to her waist, crowned with light, her garments blue, and semined with stars, girded unto her with a white band filled with arithmetical figures, in one hand bearing a lamp, in the other a bright sword, descended and spake. — The Masque of Hymen, Ben Jonson.

72 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II

Envy to Nature. 47=cxLV.

Those lips1 that Love's own hand did make Breath'd forth the sound that said 'I hate' To me that languish'd for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue1 that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet; 'I hate' she alter'd with an end. That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away; 'I hate' from hate away she threw, And saved my life, saying 'not you.'2

1 Reason' s. Reason in Act II. is the daughter of I.oi'e in Act I.

8 This Sonnet, though not in the rhyming decasyllabic, is intensly dramatic. Wyndham says of it, "but little in it that recalls Shakespeare's hand."1 Godwin, more pronounced, claims, "Sonnet CXLV. is not a Sonnet at all, but a bit of oc- tosyllabic doggerel, which a writer of Shakespeare's judgment would not have retained in the collection."2

1 Shakespeare's Poems, George Wyndhaiti, p. 331.

2 A New Study of The Sonnets of Shakespeare, Parke Godwin, p. 16.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 73

SCENE IV.

Reason to Nature. 48=0x1,111.

Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch One of her feath'red creatures1 broke away, Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent To follow that which flies before her face, Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, 2 Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar b'ehind; But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind; So will I pray that thou may'st have thy 'Will,'3 If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.

1 Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers^ — if the rest of my fortunes2 turn turk with me — with two provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fel- lowship in a cry of players, sir? — Hamlet, in. 11.

There is more however, in Hamlet's words than this making fun of the 'feathers;' something covertly concealed under tJie rose that no one has yet espied. If we look intently we shall see the snake stir beneath the flowers; a subtle snake

of irony with the most wicked glitter in its eye as though the very devil

had broken loose in the theatre, and was hiding his cloven foot in a player's shoe. — Shakespeare' s Sonnets, Gerald Massey, pp. 518, 519.

2 The goddess Envy.

3 Cp. note i, p. 31.

1 The twenty-two characters in the Masque are muses or gods.

2 Making his fortunes swim In the full flood of her admir'd perfection. Ben. Johnson in Lwe's Martyr, p. 193.

The puzzle of history, called 'Essex,' was well calculated to become that problem of the critic, called 'Hamlet.' — Shakespeare's Sonnets, Massey, p. 483.

74 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT II,

Nature to Reason. 4.9 — »vi.

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface

In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:

Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place

With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.

That use is not forbidden usury

Which happies those that pay the willing loan ;

That's for thyself to breed another thee,

Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;

Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,

If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee:

Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,

Leaving thee living in posterity ?

Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair

To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

Of bloody wars, nor of the sack of Troy, Of Pryam's murdered sons, nor Dido's fall, Of Helen's rape, by Paris Trojan boy, Of Caesar's victories, nor Pompey's thrall, Of Lucrece rape, being ravished by a king, Of none of these, of sweet conceit I sing.v Robert Chester, 1601. 1 Cp. 1. 5, Essex verse, p. 17.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 75

SCENE IV.

Envy to Reason. 5o=LXXii.

O, lest the world should task you to recite What merit liv'd in me, that you should love After my death, dear love, forget me quite, For you in me can nothing worthy prove; Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, To do more for me than mine own desert, And hang more praise upon deceased I Than niggard truth would willingly impart: O, lest your true love may seem false in this, That you for love speak well of me untrue, My name be buried where my body is, And live no more to shame nor me nor you. For I am sham'd by that which I bring forth, And so should you, to love things nothing worth.

\^Enter Time and Wonder.

Then Gentle reader over-read my muse, That arms herself to fly a lowly flight, My untuned stringed verse do thou excuse, That may perhaps accepted, yield delight:1 I cannot clime in praises to the sky, Lest falling, I be drown'd with infamy.

Mea mecum Porto.

Robert Chester in Love's Martyr, p. 6. 1 Cp. note i from Saintsbury, p. 41.

76 Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

ACT II,

Time to Wonder. 51=11.

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now, Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held: Then being ask'd, where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days; To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use, If thou couldst answer, 'This fair child of mine1 Shall sum my count and make my old excuse, ' Proving his beauty by succession thine!

This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.

1 Wonder is the seed of Knowledge. — Adv. of'L., I. 95. Is this the honor of a haughty thought, For lovers hap to have all spite of love?1 Hath wretched skill thus blinded reason taught, /// this conceit* such discontent to move? That beauty so is of herself bereft, That no good hope of aught good hap is left. A Loyal Appeal in Courtesy, fissex, 1601.

1 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

2 The Masque of Love's Labor's Won.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 77

SCENE IV.

Nature to Wonder. 52=xm.

O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are

No longer yours than you yourself here live:

Against this coming end you should prepare,

And your sweet semblance to some other give.

So should that beauty which you hold in lease

Find no determination; then you were

Yourself again after yourself's decease,

When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.

Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, *

Which husbandry in honour might uphold

Against the stormy gusts of winter's day

And barren rage of death's eternal cold?

O, none but unthrifts! Dear, my love, you know You had a father;2 let your son3 say so.

[ Curtain.

1 Cp. Sons. 29-cxxv. 1, i; 3o-cxLVi. 1. 6; 56-x. 1. 7.

2 The god of Rarity in Act I.

3 The god of Knowledge in Act III.

Nor all the Ladies of the Thespian Lake,

[Though they were crushed into one form] could make

A beauty of that merit, that should take

Our muse up by commission: No, we bring

Our own true fire;1 Now our thought takes wing

And now an Epode to deep ears we sing.

Prczludium,BenJonson in Love"1 s Martyr,^. 190. 1 The Phoenix Masque of Love's Labor's Won.

78 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III.

MUSES REPRESENTED. KNOWLEDGE — TIME — GRACE — HOPE — NATURE.

SCENE I. Enter DAME NATURE, FATHER TIME and

THE GOD OF KNOWLEDGE.

Nature to Knowledge. 53=1.

From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory: But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame1 with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament, And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content, And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding: Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

1 The angel of light that was, when he presumed before his fall, said within himself, I will ascend and be like unto the Highest; not God, but the highest. To be like to God in goodness, was no part of his emulation; knowledge [be- ing in creation an angel of light] was not the want which did most solicit him; only because he was a minister he aimed at a supremacy; therefore his climb- ing or ascension was turned into a throwing doum or precipitation. — Int. of Nature, Francis Bacon, p. 27.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 79

SCENE I.

Knowledge1 to Nature. 54=LXXV.

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;

And for the peace of you I hold such strife

As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found;

Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon

Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure,

Now counting best to be with you alone,

Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure

Sometime all full with feasting2 on your sight,

And by and by clean starved for a look;

Possessing or pursuing no delight,

Save what is had or must from you be took.

Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,

Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

1 Let the bird of loudest lay, On the sole Arabian1 tree, Herald sad, and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey. The Phoenix and Turtle Dove.

2 Knowledge is the food of the mind. — Adv. of L., Vol. I. part 3, p. 260.

1 Arabian Phoenix, a mythical bird of which only one specimen could be alive at a time. After living 500 years it erected for itself a funeral pyre, which the sun ignited, and out of the ashes of the former bird sprang a new one. The Phoenix was supposed to inhabit the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, called Razin, on the site of the Garden of Eden. — Old Fortu- natus [Oliphant Smeaton, Ed.], p. 140.

8o Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

ACT III.

Time to Knowledge. 55=x.

For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any, Who for thyself art so improvident. Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,1 But that thou none lov'st is most evident; For thou art so possess 'd with murd'rous hate That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire, 2 Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate3 Which to repair should be thy chief desire. O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind! Shall hate be fairer lodg'd than gentle love? Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind. Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: Make thee another self, for love of me, That beauty still may live in thine or thee.

1 Knowledge is the food of the mind. — Adv., of L. Francis Bacon, Vol. I. part 3, p. 260.

It is well known, how I did many vi'ars since dedicate my travels and studies to the use and service of my Lord of Essex, . . . and I applied myself to him in a manner which I think happeneth rarely amongst men: for I did not only la- bour carefully and industriously in that tic set me about, whether it were matter of advice or otherwise, but neglecting the Queen's service, mine own fortune, and in a sort my vocation, I did nothing but devise and ruminate with myself to the best of my understanding, propositions and memorials of anything that might concern his Lordship's honour, fortune, or service. — Apology concerning the Earl of Essex, Francis Bacon, 1604.

2 Knowledge finally conspires against himself. Cp. Son. 83-xLix, 1. u.

3 Psychologically, Knowledge partakes of the character of his Father, Won- der. Cp. Son. 30-cxLVi. 1. 6.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 81

SCENE I.

Knowledge. 56=cxxin.

No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;1 They are but dressings of a former sight:3 Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to our desire Than think that we before have heard them told: Thy registers and thee I both defy, Not wond'ring at the present nor the past, For thy records, and what we see doth lie, Made more or less by thy continual haste:

This I do vow and this shall ever be;

I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee.

\_Exeunt.

1 Knowledges are as pyramids, whereof history is the basis. — Adv. of L., II. p. 221, Bacon.

2 An argument used by Socrates, "Knowledge is nothing but reminiscence." —riitcdo, Plato [Bohns' Libraries.], Vol. I. p. 48.

A man is generally more inclined to feel kindly towards one on whom he has conferred favors than towards one from whom he has received them.1 Essex loaded Bacon with benefits, and never thought he had done enough. It seems never to have crossed the mind of the powerful and wealthy noble that the poor barrister whom he treated with such munificent kindness was not his equal . . . Essex was in general more than sufficiently sensible of his own merits; but he did nol scon to knon.' tlial lie had- ever deserved icell of Bacon. On that cruel day when they saw each other for the last time at the bar of the Lords, Essex taxed his perfidious friend with unkindness and insincerity, but never with ingratitude,1 even in such a moment, more bitter than the bitterness of death, that noble heart was too great to vent itself in such a reproach, — Essays and Poems •, Macaulay, Vol. II. p. 186.

1 Cp. sub-note, p. 87, and notes, p. 89.

82 Shake-spearc England 's Ulysses,

ACT III.

SCENE II. Enter THE GODDESS HOPE and THE GOD OF KNOWLEDGE.

Hope. 57=xci.

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force, Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill, Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: But these particulars are not my measure; All these I better in one general best. Thy love is better than high birth to me, Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost, Of more delight than hawks or horses be ; And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: Wretched in this alone, that thou may'st take All this away, and me most wretched make.

Right well 1 know, most mighty Sovereign,

That all this famous antique history

Of some th' abundance of an idle brain

Will judged be, and painted forgery,

Rather than matter of just memory;

Since none that breatheth living air does know

Where is that happy land of Faery,

Which I so much do vaunt, yet nowhere show,

But vouch antiquities, which nobody can know.

But let that man with better sense advize, That of the world least part to us is read; And daily how through hardy enterprize Many great regions are discovered, Which to late age were never mentioned; Who ever heard of the Indian Peru? Or who in venturous vessel measured The Amazon, huge river, now found true ? Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever view?

Fairy Queen, Book II.,1 Prologue, Spenser.

1 "Containing the Legend of Sir Gnyon, or of Temperance." It has been surmised that Sir Guyon is Essex, Cp, Note? qnd Queries, Vol. IV, series 3, p. 150.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 83

SCENE II.

Knowledge. 58=LXix. •

Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view, Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due, Utt'ring bare truth, e'en so as foes commend. Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; But those same tongues1 that give thee so thine own, In other accents do this praise confound By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. They look into the beauty of thy mind, And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; [kind, Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, The solve is this, that thou dost common grow.

1 The tongues of Grace and Knowledge.

Yet all these were when no man did them know,

Yet have from wisest ages hidden beene,

And later times things more unknown shall show.1

Why then should witless man so much misweene,

That nothing is but that which he hath seene?

What if in the moon's fair shining sphere,2

What if in every other star unseene,

Of other worlds he happily should heare,3

He wonder would much more; yet such to some appeare.

Of Faery land yet if he more inquire, By certain signs, here set in sundry place, He may it find; nor let him then admire, But yield his sense to be too blunt and base, 'That not without an hound fine footing trace.

Fairy Queen, Book II., Prologue, Spenser. 1 Cp. note 4, p. 57 and Dr'ayton's Allusion to the Phoenix, p. 98.

2 But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there.

Memorial Verses to Shake-sf>eare, Benjonson, 1623.

3 Cp. note 2, p. 57, and note 2, p. 56.

Spenser's intimacy with Essex, with whatever intellectual advantages it may have been attended, with whatever bright spirits it may have brought Spenser acquainted, probably impeded his prospects of preferment.— The Works of Spenser, Hale \ Globe Edition], p, li,

84 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

ACT III. Hope. 59=LXxxv.

My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compil'd, Reserve their character with golden quill And precious phrase by all the Muses fil'd. I think good thoughts whilst other write good words, And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen' To every hymn that able spirit1 affords In polish'd form of well-refined pen. Hearing you prais'd, I say ' 'Tis so, 'tis true, ' And to the most of praise add something more; But that is in my thought, whose love to you, Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before. Then others for the breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.

1 The god of Grace. Cp. note 2, p. 57.

I must hold it as demonstrated, that the 'Phoenix' was Elizabeth1 and the 'Tur- tle Dove,' Essex. No one has, hitherto, in anyway thought of this interpreta- tion of the 'Turtle Dove'2 any more than the other of the 'Phoenix;'3 but none the less do I hope for acceptance of it.— Robert Chester's Lore's Martyr, 1601 [Dr. Grosart, Ed., 1878], p. xliv.

1 Cp. Benjonson's lines, p. 77.

From the 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets as a Cretan labyrinth, their dedication to Homer [Sonnets 26, 77], and the supposed dedication to "Mr. W. H." a metamorphosing of Ulys- ses' Mighty Bow, it follows that Troy's famous Wooden Horse appears, spiritually, on Eng- lish soil as the Turtle Dove ; i. e.,

2 Shakp-snearp's Turtlp Drive I The P°em of Thc /'//"''//.r ami Turtle /)»?><• I containing the [Enaland-s Welder i HorS 1 name of Ulysses-Essex and the twenty-two executors of

I the Willl, the Dramatis Persons of the Masque.

3 Shake-speare's Phoenix=The Sonnets of i6oy. a Dismantled Masque.

On the purposed lack of spirituality shown in Homer's characters depicted in Troilus and Cressida, cp. notes, pp. 121, 122. Thus it is that the cunning of invention and the spirituality of the classical characters of the Masque stand ....

"Alone for the Comfiarisnit Of all that insolent Greece .... sent forth."

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 85

SCENE II.

Knowledge. 6o=Lxx.

That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow1 that flies in heaven's sweetest air. So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of Time;2 For canker-vice the sweetest buds doth love, And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, Either not assail'd, or victor being charg'd; Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, To tie up envy evermore enlarg'd:

If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,3 Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.

1 Point of contact between the Sonnets of 1609 and the poem of The Phoenix and Turtle Dove; the crow being mentioned in Sons. GO-LXX., 82-0x111. and in the fifth stanza of the Dramatis Personae of the Masque, viz:

'And thou treble-dated crow, That thy sable gender mak'st, With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st, 'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

The Phoenix and Turtle Dove.

2 In a Pythagorean sense as Envy in Act II. Cp. Son. 6i-cxvn. 1. 6.

3 Hope is the daughter of Envy.

86 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

f

ACT III.

Hope. 6 1 =

Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all Wherein I should your great deserts repay, Forgot upon your dearest love to call, Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; That I have frequent been with unknown minds,1 And given to Time your own dear-purchas'd right;2 That I have hoisted sail to all the winds Which should transport me farthest from your sight. Book both my wilfulness and errors down, And on just proof surmise accumulate; Bring me within the level of your frown, But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; Since my appeal says I did strive to prove The constancy and virtue of your love.

1 Hope here anticipates her relationship [as Ambition} with Wisdom and Beauty in Act IV.

2 In Act II. Hope as Envy was the beloved of Father Time.

3 Better is the sight of the eye than the wandering of the desire. — Med. Sac- roe, Francis Bacon, part 3, p. 170.

It is noteworthy that the characters in the sensual line, from Desire to Folly, speak, or are reminded, of the ocean. I cannot fathom it, but Shake-speare was an Admiral as well as a General.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, 77ie Enacted Will. 87

SCENE II.

Knowledge. 62=cxLi.

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note;1 But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote; Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone: But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: Only my plague thus far I count my gain, That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

1 It is hardly possible at once to admire an author and to go beyond him; Knowledge being as water, which will not rise above the level from which it fell. — Preface, Nov. Org., p. 30.

The fragments of a great work on the Interpretation of Nature were first

published in Stephens' Letters and Remains, 1734 The manuscript from

which Robert Stephens printed these fragments was found among some loose papers placed in his hands by the Karl of Oxford, and is now in the British Museum; Harl, MSS. 6462. It is a thin paper volume of the quarto size, writ- ten in the hand of one of Bacon's servants, with corrections, erasures, and in- terlineations in his own. — Preface to Valerius Terminus, Bacon'' s Works, [Spedding Ed.], Vol. I. pp. 9, 16.

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III. Hope. 63=cx.

Alas, 'tis true, I have gone here and there,

And made myself a motley to the view,

Gor'd my own thoughts, ! sold cheap what is most dear,

Made old offences of affections new;'3

Most true it is that I have look'd on truth

Askance and strangely: but, by all above,

These blenches gave my heart another youth,

And worse essays prov'd thee my best of love.

Now all is done, have what shall have no end:

Mine appetite I never more will grind

On newer proof, to try an older friend,

A god in love, to whom I am confin'd.

Then give me welcome, next my heav'n the best, E'en to thy pure and most most loving breast.

1 It is no marvel if these Anticipations have brought forth such diversity and repugnance in opinions, theories or philosophies, as so many fables of several arguments. — Int. of Nature, Bacon, p. 65.

2 If any have had the strength of mind generally to purge away and dis- charge all Anticipations, they have not had that greater and double strength and patience of mind, as well to repel new Anticipations after the view and search of particulars, as to reject old which were in the mind before. — Int. of Nature, p. 67.

The human understanding is no dry light, but receives an infusion from the will and affections; whence proceed sciences which may be called "sciences as one would." Numberless in short are the ways, and sometimes imperceptible, which the affections color and infect the understanding. — NOT. Org., Aphor- ism 49, p. 82.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will.

SCENE II.

Knowledge. 64=cxxxix.

O, call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; Use power with power, and slay me not by art. Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy might Is more than my o'er-press'd defence can bide? Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

True science consists of the interpretation of Nature Bacon is to be

regarded, not as the founder of a new philosophy, but as the discoverer of a new method; at least we must remember that this was his own view of himself

and of his writings But of this great plan the interpretation of Nature

was, so to speak, the soul, — the formative and vivifying principle. — Preface to Norum Organum [Ellis, Ed.], pp. 148, 149, 155.

"Valerius Terminus of the Interpretation of Nature, with the annotations of Hermes Stella" ... It is impossible to ascertain the motive which deter- mined Bacon to give to the supposed author the name of Valerius Terminus or to his commentator, of whose annotations we have no remains,1 that of Hermes Stella2 ... It is at the same time full of interest, inasmuch as it is the earliest type of the Instauratio. The first book of the work ascribed to Valerius Ter- minus would have corresponded to the DC Augmentis and to the first book of the Novum Organum. — Bacon' s IVorks, Preface to Valerius Terminus, pp. 9, 16.

1 Cp. note 2, p. 32.

2 Shine forth, thou star of poets. — Memorial I'erses to Shake- sfeare, Ben Jonson, 1623.

90 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III.

Hope to Knowledge. 65=0x1,.

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express The manner of my pity-wanting pain. If I might teach thee wit, better it were, ! Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;3 As testy sick-men, when their deaths be near, No news but health from their physicians know; For if I should despair, I should grow mad, And in my madness might speak ill of thee: Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.

That I may not be so, nor thou belied,

Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.

\_Curtain.

1 He that is ignorant receives not the words of Knowledge, unless thou first tell him that which is in his own heart. — Nov. Org., p. 39.

2 If you do not love me it were prudent to say you do.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 91

SCENE III.

Enter THE GODDESS HOPE and THE GOD OF GRACE. Hope to Grace. 66=Lin.

What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new. .Speak of the spring and foison of the vear, The one doth shadow of your beauty show, The other as your bounty doth appear; And you in every blessed shape we know. In all external grace you have some part, But you like none, none you, for constant heart.

It is a fact that about the beginning of James' reign his [Bacon's] writing underwent a remarkable change, from the hurried Saxon hand full of large sweeping curves and with letters imperfectly formed and connected, which he wrote in Elizabeth's time, to a small, neat, light, and compact one, formed more upon the Italian model which was then coming into fashion ... It is of course impossible to fix the precise date of such a change . . . but whenever it was that he corrected this manuscript [Interpretation of Nature] ... he has taken the trouble to add the running title wherever it was wanting, thus writ- ing the words "Of the Interpretation of Nature" at full length not less than eighteen times over. — Bacon"1 s W/or£.s, Note to Preface to Valerius Terminus, [Spedding, Ed.] pp. 19, 20.

92 Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

ACT III,

Grace to Hope. 67=cxLiv.

Two loves I have of comfort1 and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair,'2 The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill.3 To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride. And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell:

Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

1 Cp. Son. yS-cxxxiv. 1. 4.

8 "That angel Knowledge." — Love's Labor's Lost, i. i, 1. 113.

3 Mother Nature.

Love 's Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 93

SCENE III.

Hope to Grace. 68==xxxin.

Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green ; Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy:1 Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: E'en so my sun one early morn did shine With all-triumphant splendour on my brow; But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.

Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;

Suns2 of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.

1 The alchemist nurses eternal hope. — Nov. Org., p. 119.

2 ', the angel of light.

94 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III,

Grace to Hope. 69=cxiv.

Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true, And that your love taught it this alchemy, To make of monsters and things indigest Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, Creating every bad a perfect best, As fast as objects to his beams assemble? O, 'tis the first; 'tis flatt'ry in my seeing, And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, And to his palate doth prepare the cup: If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin, That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.

Vain, and inclined to secret gallantries, Elizabath demanded, and received, incessant homaga, for ths most part in extravagant mythological terms, from the ablest of her subjects — from Sidney, from Spenser, from Raleigh, and was determined, in short, that ths whole literature of ths time should turn towards her as its central point. Shakespeare was the only great poet of the period who absolutely declined to comply with this demand. — \\*illiam Shakespeare^ A Critical Study, Geo. Brandes, p. 41.

And Shakespeare had seen the young Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, who, in 1577, when only ten years old, had made a sensation at court by wearing his hat in the Queen's presence and denying her request for a kiss. — Ibid. p. 243.

Essex's grandmother, on his mother's side, was an own sister to Anne Boleyn and to an inherited family quarrel, most bitter and venomous, is chargeable the mystery of William Shake-speare.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 95

SCENE IV.

Enter THE GODS OF GRACE1 and KNOWLEDGE. Grace to Knowledge. 7o=xx.

A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted,

Hast thou, the master-mistress2 of my passion;

A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted

With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,

Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;

A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,

Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.

And for a woman wert thou first created;3

Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,

And by addition me of thee defeated,

By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.4

But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.

1 Beauty, Truth and Rarity, GRACE in all simplicity, Here enclosed in cinders lie. The Phoenix and Turtle.

3 My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; My soul, the father: and these two beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts.

Richard //., v. 5.

3 Mother Eve. Cp. sub-note i, p. 79. * An ungrateful act in Nature.

The author of the Sonnets, admittedly, was the author of the Poems and the Plays, and the whole Shakespearian question would seem to resolve itself into the question, who was the author of the Sonnets. — The l\Iystci~\' of William Sliakc- sfieare, Judge Webb, p. 156.

96 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III.

Kno^vledge to Grace. 7 1 =cxxi.

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, When not to be, receives reproach of being; And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem'd, Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing: For why should others' false adulterate eyes1 Give salutation to my sportive blood? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, 2 Which in their wills count bad what I think good ? No, I am that I am, 8 and they that level At my abuses, reckon up their own: I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel; By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown; Unless this general evil they maintain, All men are bad, and in their badness reign.

is here slurring Rcuson and A'wr'v, psychological mothers of (iracc and /A;/V', respectively. 2 Grace and Hope. * Knoii'ledge partakes of the character of his grandson, 7'ru(h. Cp. Son.

I25-CXII. 11. 3, 12.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 97

SCENE IV.

Grace to Knowledge. 72=xcn.

But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine, And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine. Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, When in the least of them my life hath end; I see a better state to me belongs Than that which on thy humour doth depend. Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, * Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie;—

0, what a happy title do I find, Happy to have thy love, happy to die!

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou may'st be false, and yet I know it not.

1 Cp. couplet, Son. 66-Lin.

We are now [1592] entering on a new phase in the career of Lord Essex, one which indirectly led to his ruin. Up to this time he had shown no desire to mingle in politics and state intrigues. Warlike service abroad, tiltings, Masques, and revels at home, love, and the excitement of his life at court, had sufficiently amused him. — Lives of The Earls of Essex, Devereux, Vol.

1. p. 276.

98 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III. Knowledge to Grace. 73=xxxn.

If thou survive my well-contented day,

When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,

And shalt by fortune once more re-survey

These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover:

Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,

And though they be outstripp'd by every pen,

Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,

Exceeded by the height of happier men.

O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:

'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, *

A dearer birth than this his love had brought,

To march in ranks of better equipage:

But since he died and poets better prove, 2 Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'

1 It seems that the sin of Knozvledge was that he had become a "back num- ber." Cp. Sons. 62-cxi.i., 85-civ., 86-xxn.

2 Hope and Grace.

'Mongst all the creatures in this spacious round, Of the bird's kind, the Phoenix1 is alone, Which best by you2 of living things is known; None like to that, none like to you is found. Your beauty is the hot and splend'rous sun, The precious spices be your chaste desire, Which being kindled by that heav'nly fire, Your life so like the Phosnix's begun: Yourself thus burned in that sacred flame, With so rare sweetness all the heav'ns perfuming, Again increasing, as you are consuming, Only by dying, born the very same;

And winged by fame, you to the stars ascend,2

So you of time shall live beyond the end. In Allusion to the Phoenix, Michael Dravton, 1594.

1 The Sonnets of i6og, a Dismantled Masque. Cp. Mother Nature's lines, p. 22.

2 The Masque and the authgr of the Masque, to be memorialized by a constellation. See. Divus Shake-speare i index,

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 99

SCENE IV.

Grace to Knowledge. 74=xciu.

So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though alter'd new: Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place. 1 For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change- In many's looks the false heart's history Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange, But heav'n in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow,2 If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

1 With Nature.

2 How like is thy beauty to that Apple of Eve, smiling so ripely on the out- side, and so rotten within, if thy sweet virtue correspond not to the promiss of that fair face. — Shakespeare's Satinets, Gerald Massey, p. 232.

Jove thou shalt see my commendations, To be unworthy and impartial, To make of her an extallation, Whose beauty is divine majestical;

Look on that painted picture there,1 behold The rich wrought Phrenix of Arabian gold. Mother Xature in Loi'e ' s Martyr, p. 16. 1 Cp. sub-note i, P. J4,

TOO Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

ACT III.

Kno^wledge to Grace. 75=cix.

O, never say that I was false of heart, Though absence seem'd my flame1 to qualify: As easy might I from myself depart, As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: That is my home of love: if I have rang'd, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchang'd, So that myself bring water for my stain. 2 \_Enter Nature. Never believe, though in my nature reign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so prepost'rously be stain'd, To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.

^Nature comes forward.

1 The angel of light.

2 For being in love with Dame Nature.

Nature to Phoenix.

Tell me [O Mirror] of our earthly time, Tell me sweet Phoenix^ glory of mine age, Who blots thy beauty with foul envie's crime,2 And locks thee up in fond Suspicions cage?3 Can any human heart bear thee such rage?

Daunt their proud stomachs with thy piercing eye, Unchain Love's sweetness at thy liberty.

Robert Chester,* in Love s Martyr, p. 26.

1 The Sonnets of 1609.

2 Cp. Peele's lines p. 18.

3 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

* For the identity of this hitherto unknown and never-again-heard-of-poet [except in Love's Martyr] see noms de plume of Essex, frontispiece.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 101

SCENE IV.

Grace to Natiire. 76=cxxxiu.

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slav'ry my sweet'st friend must be? Me from myself thy cruel eye hath tak'n, And my next self thou harder hast engross'd: Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsak'n; A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd. Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, * But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail; Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail:3 And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

1 Cp. note i, p. 31.

2 So the Quarto. Cp. note 3, p. 34.

INVOCATIO AD APOLLINEM ET PIERIDES. To your high influence we commend Our following labours, and sustend Our mutuall palms, prepar'd to gratulate An honourable friend: then propagate With your illustrate faculties Our mentall powers: Instruct us how to rise In weighty Numbers, well pursu'd, And varied from the Multitude: Be lavish once, and plenteously profuse Your holy waters, to our thirstie Muse, That we may give a round to him In a Castalian boule, crown'd to the brim.

Vatum Chorus, Love's Martyr, 1601, p. 179.

These 'Vatum Chorus' pieces are in good sooth poor enough. They have touches like Chapman at his worst- — Notes to Laye's Martyr [Dr. Grosart, Ed.], 1878, p. 240.

Dr. Grosart intimates that only Chapman was concerned — but was not Ben Jonson's the master hand? It will be remembered that in these Love's Mfirtyr poems, Marston, Chapman and Jonson witness Shake-speare's Will; i. e., the eighteen stanza poem of The Phcenix and Turtle Dwe.

io2 Shake-speare England * s ( 7rsseS\

ACT III.

Grace to Knowledge. 77=xLii.

That thou hast her,1 it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I lov'd her dearly; That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye: Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her; And for my sake e'en so doth she abuse me, Suff'ring my friend for my sake to approve her. If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; Both find each other, and I lose both twain, And both for my sake lay on me this cross: But here's the joy; my friend and I are one;3 Sweet flatt'ry! then she loves but me alone.

1 Mother Nature.

2 This "Conceit" must have greatly pleased Ben Jonson.

Hor. Caesar speaks after common men in this,

To make a difference of me, for my poorness;

As if the filth of pov'rty sunk as deep

Into a knowing spirit, as the bane

Of riches doth into an ign'rant soul.

No, Caesar, they be pathless, moorish minds,

That being once made rotten with the dung

Of damned riches, ever after sink

Beneath the steps of any villany.

But knowledge is the nectar that keeps sweet

A perfect soul, even in this grave of sin.

7 Vic I\>ct aster, v. i.

'There was a time' says Sir Henry Wotton, sometime secretary to the Karl of Essex, 'when Sir Fulke Greville, . . . had almost superinduced into favour the Earl of Southampton, which yet being timely discovered, my lord of Essex chose to evaporate his thoughts in a Sonnat [being /it's common icay\, to be sung before the Queen [as it was] by one Hales, in whose voice she took some pleasure; whereof the couplet, methinks, had as much of the Hermit as of the Poet'. — Reliquice Wotloniance, p. 163, [Quoted by IMassev, p. 44.]

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 103

SCENE IV.

Grace to Nature. 78=cxxxiv.

So, now I have confess'd that he1 is thine, And I myself am mortgag'd to thy 'Will',2 Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still.3 But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous and he is kind; He learn'd but surety-like to write for me Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, Thou usurer, 4 that put'st forth all to use, And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; So him I lose through my unkind abuse.

Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me: He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.5

[ Curtain.

1 The god of Knowledge.

2 Cp. note i, p. 31. 3-Cp. Son. Gy-cxLiv. 1. i.

* Cp. Son. 54-Lxxv. 1. 4 and all of Son. IO-LII. 5 Cp. Son. yo-xx. 1. 12.

In the letter of advice address3d by the Earl of Essex to Sir Fulke Greville on his studies, first printed by Mr. Spedding as written by Bacon, the Earl is made to say, "for poets, I can commend none, being resolved to be ever a stran- ger to them." However this may have been intended to be seriously spoken in character by the Earl to the Knight [Greville, who was himself a poet], when considered with reference to the actual facts now known concerning them both, it may be taken as a pretty good joke. — Jtidge Holmes'1 [Baconian] Au- thorship of Shakespeare, Vol. I. p. 185.

IO4 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses ',

ACT III.

SCENE V. Enter THE GODDESS HOPE and THE GODS OF KNOWLEDGE and GRACE.

Hope to Knowledge. 79=xcvn.

How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen ! What old December's bareness every where! And yet this time remov'd was summer's time, The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime, Like widow'd wombs after their lord's decease: Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, 1 And, thou away, the very birds are mute, 2 Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer, That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

1 There is no darkness but ignorance. — Twelfth Night, iv. 2..

2 Sound has no existence for the deaf, nor light for the sightless. Cp. Son. 85-civ. 1. 14.

This is the Anchor-hold, the sea, the river, The lesson and the substance of my song, This is the rock my ship did seek to shiver, And in this ground with Adders was I stung,1 And in a loathsome pit was often flung:''2 My beauty and my virtues captivate, To Love, dissembling Love, that I did hate.3 The /Vmv//.v4 to Mother Nature in /.OTC'S Martyr, p. 30.

1 Cp. note i, p. 109.

2 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

3 The Sonnets long to be a play and not merely love Sonnets.

So, till the judgment that yourself arise, \ou live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. Couplet, Son. ISO-LV.

* Allegory for the Sonnets of 1609.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 105

SCENE V.

Knowledge to Hope. 8o=LXxm.

That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. ! [strong, This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

1 Plato is so centred, that he can well spare all his dogmas Be- fore all men, he saw the intellectual values of the moral sentiment he

kindled a fire so truly in the centre, that we see the sphere illuminated, and can distinguish poles, equator, and lines of latitude, every arc and node: a theory so averaged, so modulated that you would say, the winds of ages have swept through this rhythmic structure, and not that it was the brief extempore blotting of one short lived scribe. Hence it has happened that a very well- marked class of souls, namely, those who delight in giving a spiritual, that is, an ethico-intellectual expression to every truth, by exhibiting an ulterior end which is yet legitimate to it, are said to Platonize. Shakespeare is a Platonist, when he writes:

He that can endure

To follow with allegiance a fallen lord, Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i' the story.

Antony and Cleopatra, in. 2.

Hamlet is a pure Plalonist, and 'tis ths magnitude only of Shakespsare's proper genius that hinders him from being ch ss^d as the most eminent of this school. — Emerson s Works, Vol. II. pp. 72-74.

io6 Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

ACT III.

Grace to Knowledge. 8 1 =cxin.

Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; And that which governs me to go about Doth part his function, and is partly blind, Seems seeing, but effectually is out; For it no form delivers to the heart Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch; Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch; For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight, The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, The mountain or the sea, the day or night, The crow1 or dove, it shapes them to your feature: Incapable of more, replete with you, My most true mind thus maketh mind2 untrue.

1 Cp. note i, p. 85.

2 Cp. 1. 7 above.

"Essex urged the Queen to make Bacon Solicitor, in which he was backed by Burleigh. But here again, after a struggle of a year and a half, during which the office remained vacant, disappointment awaited him, and Sergeant Fleming was nominated. Essex felt this deeply on his friend's account, to whom he endeavored to make ammends by a gift, the munificence of which, and the delicacy with which it was offered, are admirable. We have the circumstance related by Bacon himself.

" 'Mr. Bacon' said the Earl, 'the Queen hath denied me the place for you, and hath placed another; / ' knoic you arc the least part of your 0101 matter,1 but you fare ill, because you have chosen me for your mean and dependance; you have sfent your time and thoughts in my matters: I die if I do not some- what towards your fortune; you shall not deny to accept a piece of land,2 which I will bestow on you.' " — Lives of The Earls of Essex, Derereux, Vol. I. p. 286.

1 Cp. italicized lines "in that he set me about" with the context, p. 80.

2 "The land was Twickenham park and garden, afterwards sold by Bacon for 1800 £."

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 107

SCENE V.

Knowledge to (trace. 82=XLix.

Against that time, if ever that time come, When I shall see thee frown on my defects, Whenas thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Call'd to that audit by advis'd respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye, When love, converted from the thing it was, Shall reasons find of settled gravity; Against that time do I ensconce me here Within the knowledge of mine own desert, And this my hand against myself uprear, 1 To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:

To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws, Since why to love I can allege no cause.

1 Cp. Son. 55-x. 1. 6.

2 Grace is the son of the goddess Reason.

I come, I come, and now farewell that strond, Upon "whose craggy rocks my ship was rent; Your ill beseeming follies made me fond, And in a vasty cell I up was pent,1 Where my fresh blooming beauty I have spent. O blame yourselves ill nurtured cruel swains, That fill'd my scarlet glory full of stains.2

The Pha-nix* to Mother Nature in J.oi'e' s Martyr, p. 32.

1 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

2 Cp. note i, p. IOQ.

3 Allegory for the Sonnets of 1609; i. e., the Dismantled Masque of Loz>e's Labor's Won.

loB Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III,

Grace to Knowledge. 83=LXxvi.

Why is my verse so barren of new pride ?

So far from variation or quick change ?

Why with the time do I not glance aside.

To new-found methods and to compounds strange ?

Why write I still all one, ever the same,

And keep invention in a noted weed, *

That every word doth almost tell my name,2

Showing their birth and where they did proceed ?

O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,

And you and love are still my argument;

So all my best is dressing old words new,

Spending again what is already spent: For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told.

1 Eve's Tree of Knowledge.

All knowledge appeareth to be a plant of God's own planting. — Int. of \at- ure, Bacon, p. 32.

2 For light that makes darkness more oppressive see Judge Webb's most lucid exposition of this "noted weed" Sonnet. — The Mystery of ll'iliiam Shake- speare, p. 156.

Love 's Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 109

SCENE V.

Knowledge to Hope. 84=xxxiv. Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, 1 To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke ? 'Tis not enough that through the cloud they break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace:3 Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: Th' offender's sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offence's cross.

Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.

1 I cannot, however, doubt that Shakespeare was, to use his own words, made to "travel forth without" that "cloak," which, if he had not been lured, we may be sure that he would not have discarded. Hardly had he laid the cloak aside before he was surprised according to a preconcerted scheme, and probably roughly handled, for we find him lame soon afterwards [Son. xxxvn. 11. 3, 9] and apparently not fully recovered a twelve-month later [Son. LXXXIX. 1. 3] . The offence above indicated — a sin of very early youth- for which Shakespeare was bitterly penitent, and towards which not a trace of further tendency can be dis- cerned in any subsequent sonnet or work — this single offence is the utmost that can be brought against Shakespeare with a shadow of evidence in its support. — Shakespeare"1 s Sonnets, Samuel Butler, p. 70.

To understand Samuel Butler, it would seem that note i, p. 90 is sufficient, but not so; the chances are that naught but chaste and immaculate emotions ever crossed the unsullied mirror of his imagination, but such gross slanders illustrate the effeminacy of minds to which opportunity1 is positive evidence of wrong doing.

2 Cp. note i, p. 98.

1 Cp. lines from Lucrece, p, 70,

iio Shake-spear e England' s Ulysses,

ACT III.

Hope to Knowledge. 85

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,

For as you were when first your eye I eyed,

Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold

Have from the forests shook three summers' pride;

Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd,

In process of the seasons have I seen;

Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,

Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. '

Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,

Steal from his figure and no pace perceiv'd;

So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,

Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd:2

For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;

Ere vou were born was beauty's summer dead.3

1 The characters are Pythagoreans and the time of the play, five years; each act a year. In Act I. Hope was Desire and Knoisledfre, Rarity. Cp. Dra- matis Personae, p. 24.

2 'Hue' means shape, figure, and not tint. — Shakespeare* s l\)cms, ll'vtid- ham, p. 275.

Is not Mr. Wyndham in error? Cp. Sonnet 70 xx., (,'race to Knoicled^e, 1. ft, "Gilding the object whereupon it gazath."

Protagoras assarts that nothing exists of itself, nor can any thing be desig- nated by any quality, for what we call great, will, in reference to something else, be also small, and what we call heavy, light, and so on, so that nothing ever exists but is always becoming. Consequently all things spring from mo- tion, and the relation that they bear to each other. Thus, with respect to col- or, it docs not actually c'.v/.sV, it is neither in the object seen nor in the eye itself, but results from the application of the eye to the object, and so is the intermediate production of both. — Introduction to the Theidetus* Halo, p. i.

? Cp. Son. 79-xcvn. 1. 12.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 1 1 1

SCENE V.

Grace to Knowledge. 86=xxn.

My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate. For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: How can I then be elder than thou art? O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary As I, not for myself but for thee will; Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.

Presume1 not on thy heart when mine is slain;

Thou gav'st me thine, not to give back again.

1 "The angel of light that was, when he presumed before his fall." Cp. note i, p. 78.

The compliment which ths poet pays the Earl of Esssx in the prologue to Act 5, of "Henry V." gives as little indication of the personal relation in which they stood to each other,1 as the much discussed resemblance of some passages in "Hamlet" with letters of the Earl of Essex. — -William Shakespeare, Karl Ehe, p. 177.

1 Cp, note 5, p. 18,

H2 Shake-speare England s Ulysses,

ACT III.

87=xciv. Knowledge to PI ope and Grace.

They that have pow'r to hurt, and will do none, * That do not do the thing they most do show,2 Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow; They rightly do inherit heav'n's graces And husband Nature's riches from expense; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others, but stewards of their excellence. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die, But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity:

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

1 Posse et nolle, nobile. — Love's Martyr, xvi. and text, p. 3.

2 Though all the wits of all the ages should meet together and combine and transmit their labors, yet will no great progress ever be made in Science by means of Anticipations; bacausa radical errors in the first concoction of the mind are not to be cured by the excellence of functions and remedies subsequent, — • Nov. Org., Aphorism xxx. p. 74.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 113

SCENE V.

Hope to Knowledge. 88=cxxvi.

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown,1 and therein 'show'st Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st! If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May Time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure: Her audit, though delay 'd, answer'd must be, And her quietus is to render thee.2

1 His "sin" was growing old. Cp. note i, p. 98.

2 Knowledge must always continue to be imperfect, and therefore in its best estate progressive. — Preface to Bacon's Philosophical Works, Vol. 1. p. 121.

At the battle nearZutphen [Oct. 2nd, 1586]. "The young Earl of Essex, gen- eral of the horse, cried to his handful of troopers: — "Follow me, good fellows, for the honor of England and of England's Queen!" As he spoke he dashed upon the enemy's cavalry, overthrew the foremost man, horse and rider, shiv- ered his own spear1 to splinters, and then, swinging his curtel-axe, rode merrily forward. His whole little troop, compact as an arrow-head, flew with an ir- resistible shock against the opposing columns, pierced clean through them, and scattered them in all directions. At the very first charge one hundred English horsemen drove the Spanish and Albanian cavalry back upon the musketeers and pikemen. Wheeling with rapidity, they retired bsfore a volley of musket- shot, by which many horses and a few riders were killed, and then formed a- gain to renew the attack. Sir Philip Sidney, on coming to the field, having met Sir William Pelham, the veteran lord marshall, lightly armed, had with chiv- alrous extravagance thrown off his own cuishes, and now rode to the battle with no armour but his cuirass. At the second charge his horse was shot under him, but, mounting another, he was seen everywhere in the thick of the fight, behav- ing himself with a gallantry which extorted admiration even from the enemy." — History of The Netherlands, Motley, Vol. II, pp. 50, 51. 1 Did not Kssex here gain the soubriquet of Shaktrsp§are?

H4 Shake- spe are England' s Ulysses,

ACT III.

SCENE VI. Enter NATURE, THE GODDESS HOPE, FATHER TIME and THE GODS OF KNOWLEDGE and GRACE.

Nature to Knowledge. 89=xv.

When I consider every thing that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge. stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment:1 When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and check'd even by the self-same sky; Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory: Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, To change your day of youth to sullied night; And all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

1 A side look at Father Time.

In 1589, Nash, in an Address to the Gentlemen Students of both Universities prefixed to the Menaphon of Greene, refers to a writer, of whom he says: 'If you entreat him fair on a frosty morning,1 he will afford you whole Hamlets, I should say, Handfulls of tragical speeches/ In 1594, Henslowe, in his J)i(tr\\ records that the Play containing these tragical speeches was acted by the ser- vants of the Lord Chamberlain at Newington Butts. In 1596, Lodge, in his Wit's Mtserie, speaks of 'the Ghost which cried so miserably at the Theater, like an oyster wife, Hamlet Revenge:' .... No play could have been better known. — 7Jhe Mystery of William S/i«kespc<tre, Judge Webb, p. 28.

1 It is on a frosty morning that Hamlet, as we have it, opens .... pointing to the 'frostie morning' of the sarcastic Nash. — Ibid, p. 29.

Loves Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 1 1 5

SCENE VI.

Time to Knowledge. 9o=iv.

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy ?

Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,

And being frank she lends to those are free:

Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse

The bounteous largess given thee to give?

Profitless usurer, why dost thou use

So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live ?

For having traffic with thyself alone,

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive :

Then how, when Nature calls thee to be gone, !

What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

Thy unus'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee, Which, used, lives th' executor to be.

1 Thou [7'imc] ceaseless lackey to Eternity. — Lucrece, 1. 967.

In 1598 Gabriel Harvey writes "The younger sort take much delight in Shake- speare's I'cnus and Adonis: but the Lucrccc and his tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Doimark, have it in them to please the wiser sort." — Our English Homer, Thos. IV. White, p. 145.

In 1602, Shakespeare produced1 'Hamlet,' 'that piece of his which most kin- dled English hearts.' The story of the Prince of Denmark had been popular on the stage as early as 1589 in a lost1 dramatic version by another writer.1— Life of Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 221.

1 Wonderful, wonderful and still most wonderful. Cp. note 2, p. 32, and notes p. 130-

1 1 6 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT III. Nature to Grace. QI—XYII.

Who will believe my verse in time to come,

If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?

Though yet, heav'n knows, it is but as a tomb

Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.

If I could write the beauty of your eyes

And in fresh numbers number all your graces.

The age to come would say 'This poet lies;

Such heav'nly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'

So should my papers, yellow'd with their age,

Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue, l

And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage,

And stretched metre of an antique song:

But were some child of yours2 alive that time, You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme.

1 A side look at Father Time.

2 The goddess Beauty, Act IV.

What ill divining Planet did presage, My timeless birth so timely brought to light? What fatal Comet did his wrath engage, To work a harmless bird such worlds despite, Wrapping my "days' bliss in black fable's night?1 .No Planet nor no Comet did conspire My downfall, but foul Fortune's wrathful ire. 2

Tlie Phoenix* to A f other .Ya/ure in Loi'c's J/ar/vr, p. 31.

1 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds. And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. The rha-ni.v^ to Dccdalus [Son. ui-cxxxi. I.

2 Most untymely spoken was that word,

That brought the world in such a woeful state, That love and likeiny quite are overthrowne, ' •'

And in their place are hate and sorrows tjrowne. ' A Loyal Appeal in Courtesy, Essex, 1601.

:i The Sonnets of 1609, a Dismantled Masque.

* The Masque and its author to be memorialized by a constellation. Cp. Sidney's lines, p. 120, Spenser's and Ben Jonson's lines, p. 83, Drayton's lines,, p. 98, and Divus Shake-speare^ index.

B Cp. the 1589 Dramatis Personae of Hamlet, index.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. \ 1 7

SCENE VI.

Time to Plope. 92=vn.

Lo, in the orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head, each under eye Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Serving with looks his sacred majesty; And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle age, Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, Attending on his golden pilgrimage; But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are From his low tract and look another way:1 So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon, Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.2

\_Exeuni,

1 The mind suffers in dignity, when we endure evil only by self-deception and looking- another am', and not by fortitude and judgment. And therefore it was an idle fiction of the poets to make Hope the antidote of human diseases. — Med. Sacra-, Kacon, Vol. II. part 3, p. 91. ~ Ambition,

Weep not my Phoenix, though I daily weep, Woe is the herald that declares my tale, IVorlliv Uiou art in I'enus lap to sleepe, } Iran/only cohered ivith god Cupids rale, \ 1 With which he doth all mortal sense exhale: Wash not thy cheeks, unless I sit by thee To dry them with my sighs immediately. The Turtle /)<><'<•* to The rha>ni\? J. ore's Martyr, p. 147.

Arise old Homer and make no excuses, Of a rare piece of art must be my song, Of more then most* and most of all belored, }

About theichich Venus sweete doves have hovered, \ l Robert Chester* in /.ore's Martyr* p. 13.

Only by dying, born the very same.1

Michael Drayton to The /'Jiti-nix. [Cp. p. 98.]

1 The Sonnets of i6og, a Dismantled Masque.

2 Cp. note 2, p. 84. a Cp. note 3, p. 84. * Cp. note 4, P. 100.

1 1 8 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

MUSES REPRESENTED. WISDOM — TIME — BEAUTY — AMBITION — NATURE.

SCENE I. Enter NATURE, THE GODDESS* BEAUTY and FATHER TIME.

Nature to Beauty. 93=xvm.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or Nature's2 changing course untrimm'd

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, ) . So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. j 4

1 The sex of Spiritual or Heavenly Beauty is optional with the poets and phi- losophers. Ben Jonson, than whom as a classicist there is no higher authority, designates the "Spirit" as feminine.

It was for Beauty that the world was made, And where she reigns, Love's lights admit no shade. The Masque of Beauty. With Plato the spirit is at times masculine.

Every one, therefore, chooses his love out of the objects of beauty according to his own taste, and, as if he were a god to him, he fashions and adorns him like a statue, as if for the purpose of reverencing him and celebrating orgies in his honour. — The PJucdrus, Vol. I. p. 329.

2 In Love ' s Martyr, Nature speaks of herself as Nature. Cp. p. 22.

3 Beautv [in verse] and not Wisdom- is the object of Nature"1 s adoration, hence the change from the intellectual to the moral line. Cp. Son. 3-Lxv. 1. 14.

* Cp. note 2, p. 57.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 119

SCENE I.

Time to Nature. 94=cvi.

When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd E'en -such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And, for they look'd but with divining eyes, They had not still enough" your worth to sing: For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

Her head I framed of a heavenly map,

Wherein the sevenfold vertues1 were enclosed,

When great Apollo slept within my lap,

And in my bosome had his rest reposed, I cut away his locks of purest gold, And plac'd them on her head of earthly mould.

When the least whistling wind begins to sing, And gently blows her haire about her necke, Like to a chime of bells it soft doth ring, And with the pretie noise the wind doth checke, Able to lull asleepe a pensive hart, That of the round world's sorrows bears a part. Nature describing her Pha'nix*- to Jove, Love"1 s Martyr, p.

1 Cp. note 2, p. 37.

a The Sonnets of ifxx>, a Dismantled Masque. Cp. sub-note i, p. 40.

12O Shake-speare England^ Ulysses,

ACT IV, Beauty to Nature. 95=LXXXin.

I never saw that you did painting' need, And therefore to your fair no painting set; I found, or thought I found, you did exceed The barren tender of a poet's debt: And therefore have I slept in your report, That you yourself being extant well might show How far a modern quill doth come too short, Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. This silence for my sin you did impute, ]

Which shall be most my glory, being dumb; For I impair not beauty being mute, When others would give life and bring a tomb. I There lives more life in one of your fair eyes Than both your poets can in praise devise. ~

1 In the preceding Acts the psychological progenitors of Heanly, i. e., Lo~,'i\ A'eason and Grace, have had but little converse with Mother \a(nre. * Beauty and Time.

Troi/ns ami Cressida. — Was it Shakespeare's intention to ridicule Homer? Did he know Homer? .... Shakespeare's knowledge of Greek was defective. — H'illiam Shakespeare, A Critical Studv, Gco. Brandts, pp. 512, 520. When I demand of Phoenix,1 Stella's'4 state, You say, forsooth, you left her well of late

Let Folke o'ercharg'd with braine against me crie.

Astrophel to Stella [Sons. 92, 64] , Sidney. . . . Or, when thy socks were on, Leave thee alone for the comparison.''' Of all that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.

Memorial I Vv.sv.s-, />V;/ /onson, 1623.

1 The Phoenix Masque ami its author, memorialized by a constellation. — See /Vr '//.«• Shnk,-- sfeare, index.

a There was a woman whom Shakespeare had known, quite ready to heroine his life-ti«- nre, her name was IStellal Lady Rich .... We can match Hamlet's shifting moods of mind with those of Essex, as revealed in letters to his sister, Lady Rich. Sliiikt'sfiftirs's Sonnets, Gerald .l/uxjuy, pp. 482, 484.

3 In the Masque of Move's Labor's Won. Cp. sub-notes, p. 84.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 121

SCENE I.

Nature to Beauty. 96=cvn.

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom.1 The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd, And the sad Augurs2 mock3 their own presage;4 Incertainties now crown themselves assur'd, And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes: And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests2 and tombs of brass are spent.

\jExeunt.

1 Cp. Son. 3-i.xv. 11. 12, 14, and note i, p. 120. ~ Time and Death. :< Cp. note 4, p. 57.

* Throughout the Masque the almost silent contempt which Mother Arature evinces for her 'ceaseless lackey' ['J'ime] is not the least laughable thing, as if her play would not last.

Troilus ami L'ressida. - With what intention, and in what spirit, did Shak- spere write this strange comedy? All the Greek heroes who fought against Troy are pitilessly exposed to ridicule; Helen and Cressida are light, sensual, and heart- less, for whose sake it seems infatuated folly to strike a blow; Troilus is an en- thusiastic young fool; and even Hector, though valiant and generous, spends his life in a cause which he knows to be unprofitable, if not evil. All this is seen and said by Thersites, whose mind is made up of the scum of the foulness of hu- man life . . . . Ulysses, the antithesis of Troilus, is the much-experienced man of the world, possessed of its highest and broadest wisdom, which yet always remains ivorldly wisdom, and never rises into the spiritual contemplation of a Prospero. — Shaksperc, //is Mind and Art, Doicden, pp. vn., vin. Look [Homer], what thy memory can not contain Commit to these waste acts, and thou shalt find Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, Shall profit thee and much enrich tliy book.

ll'illiam Shake-spcitrc [Son. Lxxvn.j.

122 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

SCENE II. Enter THE GOD OF AMBITION. Ambition. 97=cxix.

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears, Still losing when I saw myself to win ! What wretched errors hath my heart committed, Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted In the distraction of this madding fever! O benefit of ill! now I find true That better is by evil still made better; And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. So I return rebuk'd to my content, And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.

\_Enter I

An upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his 'fiber's heart wrapt in a player's hyde supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you. — Green's Groutsicorth of Wit, 1592-96.

Robert Green' s Groatszcort/i of Wit refers to false pretence and false pre- tence is the essence of the fable of the Crow in Peacock's feathers. — Our /-.'//- glish Homer, ll'hite, p. 176.

The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Ilyrcaniitn beast,

Hath now

With heraldry

horridly trick'd1

. . . Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sons. Hamlet, n. 2.

You have a wolf's heart in a sheep's garment. — Cecil to Essex at the trial of Essex, 1601. — Life of Ralegh, Ed-icards, Vol. I. p. 292. 1 Cp. note i, p. 27.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 123

SCENE II.

Ambition to Wisdom. 98=xxix.

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast -state, And trouble deaf heav'n with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, \

Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd, >• * Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

1 Envy being the grandmother of Ambition, Bacon's aphorism is pertinent here. "Envy is ever joined with the comparing of a man's self." — Of Envy, Francis Bacon.

Of Shake-speare's character building. Cp. note 2, p. 59.

Is it possible that Bacon, ["the soaring angel and the creeping snake"] could not read the Sonnets? did he, with open eyes, deliberately walk into the trap set for him by Essex? Cp. notes, pp. 87, 89, 91.

For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable speeches, and to foreign nations, and to the next age. — Francis Bacon"1 s Will.

The loftiness of his [Essex's] wit was most quick, present, and incredible, in dissembling with counterfeit friends, and in turning the mischiefs and fallacies of his enemies upon their ozcti heads and in concealing any matter and business of importance, beyond expectation. — Four Books of Offices, Bar- nabe Barnes, 1606.

124 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ACT IV. Wisdom to Ambition. 99=xcv.

How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! That tongue that tells the story of thy days, Making lascivious comments on thy sport, Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise; Naming thy name, blesses an ill report. O, what a mansion have those vices got, Which for their habitation chose out thee, Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, And all things turn to fair that eyes can see!

Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;

The hardest knife ill-us'd doth lose his edge.

I have byn of late very pestilent reported in this place [the court] to be rath- er a drawer bake then a fartherer of the action where you govern I

humblie beseich you, lett no poclicall scribe1 work your Lordshipe by any device to doubt that I am a hollo or could sarvant to the action, or a mean well-wilier and follower of your own. —Sir ITaltcr Raleigh [at court] to Leicester [in the Netherlands] Mar. 2gth, 1586. — Life of Ralegh* Edwards, Vol. II., p. 33.

As captain of the guard, Raleigh had to stand at the door with a drawn sword, in his brown and orange uniform, while the handsome youth [Essex] whispered to the spinster Queen of fifty-four things which set her heart beating. He made all the mischief he could between her and Raleigh. — Shakespeare, .1 Critical Sludv, Hnuides, p. 243.

l''.n I er SIR WALTER MALVOLIO, [Reads.] .... Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and sonic have greatness thrust upon them* .... Re- member who commended thy w/Xozv stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross gartered: I say remember. Cp. ']\celflli Xighl, n. 5. ''hi I\ttriam rediit magnus Apollo sna/n. But, ah for grief! that jolly groom is dead,:! For whom the Muses silver tears have shed; Yet in this lovely swain, source of our glee. Must all his virtues sweet reviven be."

/Vr/V'.s- l-'.clogue, Gratulctiory to I'lssex, 1589.

1 Essex and Leicester landed at Flushing, Dec. roth, 1585.

a Personal allusions were- the sauce (if evcrv plav. Shakesteartf t I'oem

3 Sir Philip Sidney.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 125

SCENE II.

Ambition to \\~isdom. IOO=LXXXVII.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving ? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprison growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making. Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

[Curtain.

I acquaynted the Lord Generall [Essex] with your letter to mee, and your kynd acceptance of your enterteynement; hee was also wonderfull merry att your consait of ' 'Richard I he Second.'' I hope it shall never alter, and where- of I shall be mostgladd of, as the trew way to all our good, QUIETT and advance- ment, and most of all for Her sake whose affaires shall thereby fynd better progression. Sir, I will ever be your's; // is all I can saye, and I will psr- forme it icith my life, and icith my fortune. — Sir Walter Raleigh to Rob- ert Cecil, July 6th, 1597. — Life of Ralegh* fcdicards, Vol. II. p. 169.

If Coke had the faintest idea that ths Player was the author of Richard the Second, he would not have hesitated a momsnt to lay him by the heels. And that the Player was not regarded as the author by the Queen is provad by the fact that, with his company, he performed before the Court at Richmond, on the evening before the execution of Essex. — 'Die Mystery of ll'illiam Shake- speare. Judge ll'cbb, Baconian, p. 72.

126 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

SCENE III. Enter THE GODDESSES BEAUTY and WISDOM. Wisdo m. i o i =x L v i .

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,

How to divide the conquest of thy sight;

Mine eye, my heart thy picture's sight would bar,

My heart, mine eye the freedom of that right.

My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,

A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes—

But the defendant doth that plea deny,

And says in him thy fair appearance lies.

To 'side this title is impanelled

A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,

And by their verdict is determined

The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part: As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part, And my heart's right thy inward love of heart.

1 Sight is the keenest of our bodily senses, though Wisdom is not seen by it. For vehement would be the love she would inspire, if she came before our sight and shewed us any such clear image of herself. — The rhicdrus, Plato, Vol. 1. p. 327, [Bohn's Libraries] .

Forehead. Her forehead is a place for princely Jove

To sit, and censure matters of import:

Wherein men reade the sweete conceipts of love,

To which heart-pained lovers do resort,

And in this Tablet1 find to cure the wound, For which no salve or herbe was ever found.2 Ajvr.v. Under this mirror, are her princely eyes:

Two Carbuncles, two rich imperial lights;

That ore the day and night do soveraignize,

And their dimme tapers to their rest she frights: Her eyes excell the Moone and glorious Sonne, And when she riseth al their force is done.

Nature describing her FhcenioP to Jove, Love's Martyr, p. 10.

1 And him4 as for a Map doth Nature store, To show false Art what beauty was of yore.

Son. I42-LXVIII.

2 Cp. termination of the sensual line of the Dramatis Personse, p. 24.

3 The Masque is Nature's own drama. Cp. note 4, p. 57.

* Daedalus, the 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 127

SCENE III.

Beauty. iO2=xxiv.

Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;1 My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, And perspective it is best painter's art. For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictur'd lies, Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. Now see what good-turns eyes for eyes have done: Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;

Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;

They draw but what they see, know not the heart.2

1 Cp. note 2, p. 56.

2 Beauty is the most lovely of all things, exciting hilarity, and shedding de- sire and confidence through the universe, wherever it enters; and it enters, in some degree, into all things: but there is another, which is as much more beau- tiful than beauty, as beauty is than chaos; namely, Wisdom, which our won- derful organ of sight cannot reach unto, but which, could it be seen, would rav- ish us with its perfect reality. — Plato: or, The PJiilosopJier, Emerson, Vol. II. p. 59.

Though Bacon never mentions the name of Shakespeare, he does refer to one of his plays, thus in his charge against Mr. Oliver St. John we have "and, for your comparison with Richard II., I see you follow the example of them, that brought him upon the stage in Queen Elizabeth's time," — Our English Homer TJios. IV. White, p. 136.

128 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Wisdom to Beauty. 103— =XLVII.

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, And each doth good turns now unto the other,' When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother, With my love's picture then my eye doth feast And to the painted banquet bids my heart; Another time mine eye is my heart's guest And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: So, either by thy picture or my love, Thyself away art present still with me; For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, And I am still with them and they with thee; Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.

\_Entcr . I in bit i on.

"What will predispose the reader to believe the worst of Cecil, is a confiden- tial letter written by him to his intimate friend Carew, in which he suggests to the latter an act of treachery that can be characterized by no other epithet than diabolical. It appears that a certain young Earl of Desmond, who had been sent over from Kngland to Ireland, seemed likely to prove a costly and incon- venient encumbrance, instead of enabling the English to conciliate or suppress the Irish. Cecil therefore suggests to Carew that it may be possible to decoy the young nobleman into some act of treason, and then to make away with him.

"SIR, — It shall be an easy matter for you to colour whatsoever you shall do in that kind by this course. You may either apostate \_sic\ some to seek to with- draw him zi'/io may be fray him to you, or, rather than fail, there may be some found out /here to accuse him. and that may be sufficient reason for vou to remand him. or to restrain him, under colour of ichich tliev [the Irish] icill be more greedy peradi'enlure to labour for him — but all that is here said is mine own and known to no soul living but the writer whose hand I us^ at this present, in regard of a fluxion in one of mine eyes."

If this is Cecil, it may be thought Essex might well have felt his life endan- gered by such an enemy always at the Queen's ear." — Hucon and Essex. Abbott, p. 245,

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 129

SCENE III.

io4=cxvi.

Ambition to Beauty and Wisdom.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:1

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me prov'd,

I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

\_Exit Ambition.

1 This Sonnet admirably follows Son. i-xxv. but by so placing precipitates the humor of the play and leaves the present Scene devoid of action.

A.s-.sv.v at I he (tffc of .Vine. — He can express his mind in Latin and French, as well as in English, very courteous and modest, rather disposed to hear than to answer, given greatly to learning, weak and tender, but very comely and bashful. I think your L. will as well like of him as of any that ever came with- in your charge. — IValcrhouse to Burghley, Nov. iSth, 1576. — Lives of J'he Ear Is of Essex, Vol. I. p. 166.

Coxeter according to Warton, says, that he had seen one of Ovid's Epistles translated by Essex. — Bibliog. Foetica, Alison, p. 187.

The elegant perspicuity, the conciseness, the quick strong reasonings and the engaging good breeding of his letters, carry great marks of genius. — /\'. and A7. Authors, Horace IValpolc, 1759, Vol. I. p. 94.

Essex's letters, whether in Latin or English, short or long, of an earlier or later date, public or private, partake uniformly of the same clearness and ele- gance of manner. — Original Letters [Second Series], Ellis, Vol. III.

130

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Wisdom to Beauty. io5=LXxxvi.

Was it the proud full sail of his1 great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew ? Was it his spirit, 2 by spirits taught to write3 Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonished. He, nor that affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,4 As victors of my silence cannot boast; » I was not sick of any fear from thence:

But when your countenance fill'd up his line, Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine.

1 Ambition'1 s.

2 Hope, Act III. Cp. note 2, p. 57. :i I^nvy, Act II. and Desire, Act I.

4 Hope, Act III. It is noteworthy that ll'isdom has the same contempt for Hope as had her father, Knozvledge. Cp. Son. 58-1^x1 .

If compelled to select one of Shakespeare's Contemporaries for the Rival Poet, I should select Drayton. — Shakespeare's I'OCMS, ll'yudliam, p. 25$.

Barnabe Barnes probably the rival, .... The emphasis laid by Barnes on the inspiration that he soughtfrom Southampton's "gracious eyes" on the one hand, and his reiterated references to his patron's "virtue" on the other, suggest. that Shakespeare in these Sonnets directly alluded to Barnes as his chief com- petitor in the hotly contested race for Southampton's favours. — Life of Shake- speare, Sidney Lee, p. 133. Cp. sub-note i, p. 115.

To THE EARLE OF ESSEX, EARLE MARSHELL,* ETC. Great Strong-Bowe's heir,a no Self-Conceit doth cause Mine humble wings aspire to you, unknowne: But knowing this, that your renown alone [As th' adamant, and as the amber drawes: That, hardest steel: this, easie yielding straws] Alters the stubborn, and attracts the prone: I have presum'd [O honor's Paragon!] To grave your name [which all Iberia awes] ..

1 Cp. note i, p. 137.

2 Cp. Penelope's Challenge, p. 19.

Love $ Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 131

SCENE III.

Beauty to Wisdom. io6==LXXXii.

I grant thou wert not married to mv Muse, And therefore may'st without attaint o'erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing every book. Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, And therefore art enforc'd to seek anew Some fresher stamp of the time-bett'ring days. And do so, love; yet when they have devis'd What strained touches rhetoric can lend, Thou truly fair wert truly sympathiz'd In true plain words by thy true-telling friend; And their gross painting might be better used Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.

Here on the fore-front of this little pile;

T' invite the vertuous to a sacred feast,

And chase away the vicious and the vile,

Or stop their lothsome envious tongues, at least.

If I have err'd, let my submission scuse:

And daign to grace my yet ungraced muse. Joshua Sylvester. [Cp. Bryd^es' Rcstituta, Vol. II. p. 415.]

1 This opens another passage based on Shakespeare's knowledge of heraldry .... Imprese, a term of heraldic science .... whenever Shakespeare in an age of technical conceits, indulges in one ostentatiously, it will always be found that his apparent obscurity arises from our not crediting him with a technical knowledge which he undoubtedly possessed, be it of heraldry,^ of law, or of philosophic disputation. — Shakespeare1 s Poems, IVyndham, pp. 226-29.

In 1597 the Earl of Essex had become Earl Marshal and chief of the Her- ald's College. — Life of Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 190.

Essex was great at impreses.2— y^/sow's Conv. zvith Drummond, p. 30.

Essex was gallant, romantic and ostentatious, his shooting-matches in the eye of the city gained him great popularity and the people never ceased to adore him. His genius for shows and those pleasures that carry an image of war was as remarkable as his spirit in the profession itself. His impreses and inven- tions of entertainment were much admired. — R. and N. Authors, Walpolc.

1 The Enacted Will, or The Masque of Love's Labor's Won, is based on heraldry. Cp, notes, p. 27.

2 Cp. William Shakspere, Poet or Peacock, index,

132 Shake-speare England's Ulysses^

ACT IV.

SCENE IV. Enter THE GODDESS BEAUTY. Beauty. 107 — CXLYIII.

O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head. Which have no correspondence with true sight! Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled. That censures falsely what they see aright ? If that be fair whereon m\~ false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? f If it be not, then love doth well denote Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no. How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true. That is so vex'd with watching and with tears ? No marvel then, though I mistake my vie The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.

O cunning Love! with tears thou keep st me blind.

Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.

\^Enter Ambition.

1 Ambition. Cp. note 2, p. 57.

To THE EARL OF ESSEX. Magnificke lord, whose virtues excellent Do merit a most famous poets wit To be thy living praises instrument: Yet do not deign to let thy name be writ In this base poem, for thee far unfit: Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby. But when my Muse, whose feathers, nothing flit. Do yet but flag and lowly learn to fly. With bolder wing shall dare aloft to" sty To the last praises of this Faery Queen': Then shall it make most famous memory Of thine HEROICKE parts, such as they been: Till then, vouchsafe thy noble countenance To their first labors needed furtherance.

T*e Fairy Quten, Sfr*srrr 1590,

And there, though last not least is Action:

A gender shepheard may no where be found.

Whose muse, full of high thought's invention.

Doth, like himself. HEROICALLY sound. Cotim Clouts. Sftnser, 1595.

Loves Labors Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 133

SCENE IV.

Ambition to Beauty. 108 — LXXVIII.

So oft have I invok'd thee for my Muse, And found such fair assistance in my verse. As even* alien pen hath got my use. And under thee their poesy disperse. Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing. And heavy ignorance aloft to fly. Have added feathers to the learned's wing. And given grace a double majesty. Yet be most proud of that which I compile. Whose influence is thine, and born of thee: In others' works thou dost but mend the style. And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; But thou art all my art, and dost advance As high as learning my rude ignorance.

If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and die brother. Then must the love be great "twist thee and me. Because thou lorest the one, and I the other. Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly Upon the lute doth ravish human sense: Spenser to me. whose deep conceit is such As. passing all conceit, needs no defence.1 Thou knrest to hear the sweet melodious st That Phcebus rate, the queen of music, makes; And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd When as himself to singing he betakes. One god Is god of both, as poets feign; One knight loves both, and both in thee remain.

Attributed to Shakspere in Fkisiomalf Pilgrim^ 1599.

Shakespeare acknowledged acquaintance with Spenser's work in a plain ref- erence to his Teares of die Muses" [1591] in 'Midsummer Nights Dream." 1L 52,53]-

"The thrice three Muses, mourning for die death

Of learning, late deceased in beggary,

is stated to be the theme of one of the dramatic entertainments • ncrem illt it is proposed to celebrate Theseus s y -

- vf. - .-:-. :e ; . :.

Shake- sp ear e England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Beauty to Ambition. io9=Liv.

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfum'd tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: But, for their virtue only is their show. They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth.

Of this nobleman [Essex] [says Wordsworth] the following anecdote is told. When the Bishops that felt the smart of it had cried out against that slashing pamphlet, called Martin — Mar — Prelate,1 and there was a prohibition published, that no man should presume to carry it about him, upon pain of pun- ishment; and the Queen herself did speak as much when the Earl was present: "Why then" said the Earl, "what will become of me" and pulling the book out of his pocket, he did shew it unto the Queen. — Brydgcs' Restituta, Vol. I. p. 196.

Essex was something of a poet: he possessed the kindling poetic temperament and was fond of making verses; a lover of literature, and the friend of poets. It was he who sought out Spenser when in great distress and relieved him, and, when that poet died, Essex buried him in Westminster Abbey. Being, as he was, so near a friend of Southampton, it could scarcely be otherwise than that he should have been a personal friend of Shakspere. // is highly prob- able that some of the Poet" 's dramas n-ere first performed at I\sse\ J/ouse. — Shakespeare1 s Sonnets, Afassey, p. 462.

1 The pamphlets were published 1588-1500 — It was an age of vapid punning hence the name suggests the fatherhood of Henry Willobie; i. e., Henry=henery=feathers; Hamlet's "forest of feathers." Willobie =The Will-to-be. Cp. notes, pp. 25 and 73.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 135

SCENE IV.

Ambition to Beauty, i io=xcvin. 1 1 i=xcix.

From you have I been absent in the spring,

When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,

Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,

That heavy Saturn laugh 'd and leap'd with him.

Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell

Of different flowers in odour and in hue

Could make me any summer's story tell,

Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew;

Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,

Nor praise the deep vermillion in the rose:

They were but sweet, but figures of delight,

Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.

Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away,

As with your shadow I with these did play.

The forward violet thus did I chide: [smells,

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that

If not from my love's breath? The purple pride

Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells

In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.

The lily I condemned for thy hand,

And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;

The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,

One blushing shame, another white despair;

A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,

And to his robb'ry had annex'd thy breath;

But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth

A vengeful canker eat him up to death.

More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.

Shakespeare wrote no commendatory verses whatsoever, the only one who is praised by Shakespeare, and on one occasion only, is Spenser, who is referred to in one of the Sonnets of the Pasionate Pilgrim. — William Shakespeare, .A'ari Elze, p. 427.

136 Skake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Beauty to Ambition. \ 1 2==cn.

My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandiz'd whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where. Our love was new, and then but in the spring, When I was wont to greet it with my lays, 1 As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, And stops his pipe in growth of riper days:* Not that the summer is less pleasant now Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, But that wild music burthens every bough And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue, Because I would not dull you with my song.

1 As Love to Desire, Act I. and Reason to Envy, Act II.

2 In Act III. Grace is not specially concerned with Hope.

Having, in the Karl's [Kssex's] precipitate fortune, curiously observed. First, how long that nobleman's birth, worth and favour had been flattered, tempted, and stung by a swarm of sect-animals, whose property was to wound and fly away; and so, by a continual affliction probably enforce great hearts to turn and tosse for ease; and in those passive postures, perchance to tumble sometimes up- on I lieir S&vcraigne' s circles}- Into which pitfall of theirs,2 when they had once discerned this Earle to be fallen: straight, under the reverend stile of Laesae Alajestatis all inferiour ministers of Justice — they knew— would be justly let loose to work upon him. And accordingly under the same cloud, his enemies took audacity to cast libels abroad in his name against the State, made by them- selves: set papers upon posts, to bring his innocent friends in question. His power by the jesuiticall craft of rumour, they made infinite; and his ambition more than equal to it. His letters to private men were read openly, by the piercing eyes of an atturnie's office, which warrantes the construction of every line in the worst sense against the writer. — GreviHe' s Life of Sidney [Dr. Gro- sart, Ed.], Vol. IV. pp. 156, 157.

1 Cp. the 1589 Dramatis Persona? of Hamlet, index.

2 Cp. Raleigh's letter to Robert Cecil, p. 125.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 137

SCENE IV.

Awbition to Beauty. 1 13— xxvu. i i4=xxvui.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head, To work my mind, when body's work's expired; For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel, hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous and her old face new. Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. How can I then return in happy plight, That am debarr'd the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eas'd by night, But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd? J And each, though enemies to either's reign, Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee. I tell the day, to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even. But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.

[Enter Wisdom.

1 Ambition has not lost the characteristics of his grandmother, Envy, and Bacon's precept is applicable. "Envy keeps no holidays." — Of Envy, Futncis Bacon.

138 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Wisdom to Ambition. \ 1 5=XLi.

Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, * Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assail'd; And when a woman woos, 2 what woman's son, 3 Will sourly leave her till he have prevail'd? Ah me! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there Where thou art forc'd to break a twofold truth;4 Hers, by thy beauty tempting her2 to thee,5 Thine, by thy beauty being false to me.

1 Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded. — Richard ///., in. 7.

2 Beauty. Cp. Son. iia-cn.

3 Ambition, son of the goddess Hope.

* With the Pythagoreans fzvo involved otherness and was the number of opinion "because of its diversity."

5 Such an act

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty. Hamlet in. 4, 1. 41.

What sage has he not outseen? What king has he not taught state? What gentleman has he not instructed in the rudeness of his behavior? What lover has he not outloved? What maiden has not found him finer than her delicacy? — Emerson, Vol. II. p. 168.

The most remarkable feature in the [first quarto of Hamlet] 1603 edition is a scene between Horatio and the Queen in which he tells her of the King's frustrated scheme for having Hamlet murdered in Kngland. The object of this scene is to absolve the Queen1 from complicity in the King's crime; a pur- pose which can also be traced in other passages of this first edition. — Shake- speare, A Critical Study, Geo. Brandes, p. 345.

1 The chances are that Hamlet was never printed prior to Mar. 24th. 1603. for reasons com- pare the conjectural 1589 Dramatis fersotHe of Hamlet, index, and Raleigh's letter to Robert Cecil, p. 125, and Cecil's letter to Carew, p. 128.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted IVilL 139

SCENE IV.

Ambition to Beauty, i i6=LXXi.

No longer mourn for me when I am dead,

Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell

Give warning to the world that I am fled

From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:1

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it; for I love you so,

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,

If thinking on me then should make you woe.

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse,

When I, perhaps, compounded am with clay,

Do not so much as my poor name rehearse;

But let your love e'en with my life decay:

Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone.

1 Ambition has not lost the characteristics of his great-grandfather, Desire. Cp. Son. ly-Lxxiv., 1. 10.

Shakespeare's "deposition scene" in Richard the Second was never -printed, so long as Queen Elizabeth lived. It appeared first, in print, in the edition of 1608 . . . What passage or incident in the play can, at that date [1597], have turned Cecil's thoughts towards the Earl of Essex? and finally, to what perform- ance was it that the Queen herself alluded, when, in her curious conversation about the Pandects of the Records, with William Lambarde, on the 4th of Au- gust, 1601, she suddenly startled him, by exclaiming — "I am Richard the Sec- ond, know you not that!" and was answered: "Such a wicked imagination was, indeed, attempted by a most unkind gentleman, the most adorned creature that ever your Majesty made;" — the Queen herself presently adding: — "That tragedy was played forty times in open streets and houses." — Life of Ralegh, Ed-wards, Vol. II. p. 167.

Elizabeth died Mar. 24th, 1603. In this year appeared Johann Bayer's Ur- anometria containing the constellations of the Phoenix and the Peacock. The Phrenix being a memorial to the author of our Shake-spearian literature, the Peacock a sign in the heavens so that he who runs can spell out the name of the Stratford Cuckce "that so had crossed sweet Philomelas note." Cp. p. 18.

140 Shake-spear e England* s Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Ambition to Wisdom. 1 1 7=Lxxxvm.

When thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I'll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. ' With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a storv )

Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted, ) That thou in losing me shalt win much glory: And I by this will be a gainer too; For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to myself I do, Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right, mvself will bear all wrong.

1 From Son. IOO-LXXXVII. 1. 9, it appears that ll'isdom, at one time, was be- trothed to Ambition.

2 The characters being Pythagoreans, Ambition here refers to the relation- ship of Hope and Knowledge in Act III. Cp. Son. (>^ ex.

VERSES To THE CONCEIT OF THE FAKRV (JIRKX. To look upon a work of rare devise

The which a workman setteth out to view,1 And not to yield it the deserved praise

That unto such a workmanship is dew, Doth either prove the judgement to be naught, Or else doth shew a mind with envy fraught.

To labor to commend a piece of work,

Which no man goss about to discommend,

Would raise a jealous doubt, that there did lurk Some sscret thought whereto the praise did tend:

For when men know the goodness of the wine,

'Tis needless for the hoast to have a signe.2

1 Would this line have been acceptable to Spenser from any other pen than Shake-speare's?

2 Good wine needs no bush. — As You Like It, Epil.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 141

SCENE IV.

Ambition to Beauty. 1 1 8=Lxxix.

Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious numbers are decay 'd, And my sick Muse doth give another place. * I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live. Then thank him not for that which he doth say, Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.

1 Ambition's jealousy of ll-risdom, so strongly evidenced in Son. iO4-cxvi., here again breaks out.

Thus then, to shew my judgement to be such As can discourse of colors black and white, As alls to free my mind from envies touch,

That never gives to any man his right; I here pronounce this workmanship is such f As that no pen can set it forth too much.

And thus I hang a garland at the dore;

[Not for to shew the goodness of the ware; But such hath been the custom heretofore,

And customs very hardly broken .are;] And when your taste shall tell you this is true, Then look you give your hoast his utmost due.

Ignoto.

As K /''c// Cp(»i a /)a\', or Tlic \i^ lit inhale To /it's Muse, was subscribed Jgnoto in England's Helicon, 1600. In Love" s Martyr. I^tioto is the moving spirit; it is from fgrnoto"1 s lines that Chapman, Marston, and Jonson, base their instructions for the burning of the second Phoenix.

"The flame that eats her, feeds the others life."

This second Phoenix is Shake-speare's poem of The P/nvnix and Turtle Dove, showing, almost conclusively, that Robert Chester's Love's Martyr is a posthumous work of Shake-speare. Cp. note from Saintsbury, p. 41,

142 Shake-speare England' s Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Beauty to Ambition. ii9=xcvi.

Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less: Thou mak'st faults graces, that to thee resort. As on the ringer of a throned queen The basest jewel will be well esteem'd; So are those errors that in thee are seen To truths translated and for true things deem'd. How many lambs might the stern wolf betray, If like a lamb he could his looks translate! How many gazers mightst thou lead away, If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!1 But do not so; I love thee in such sort, As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

1 Folly. Cp. Dramatis Personae, p. 24, note i, p. 47, and note 2, p. 37. In "As You Like It," hints for the scene of Orlando's encounter with Charles the Wrestler, and for Touchstone's description 'of the diverse shapes of a lie, were clearly drawn from a book called "Saviolo's Practise," a manual of the art of self-defence, which appeared in 1595 from the pen of Vincentio Saviolo, an Italian fencing-master in the service of the Earl of Essex. — Life of S/iakc- spcat'c, Sidncv Lee, p. 209.

Such one he ti'rt.s-,1 of him we boldly say,

In whose rich soul all sovereign powers did suit,

In whom in peace the elements all lay

So mixt as none could sovereignty impute,

As all did govern yet all did obey:

His lively temper zcas1 so absolute,

That it seemed, when Heaven his model first began,

In him it showed perfection in a man.

Michael Dm \loti, 1603. *

It is noticeable that in a later edition of his poem [1619] Drayton has returned to his description, and retouched it into a still nearer likeness to that of Shak- speare. The last two lines are altered thus: —

As that it seemed when Nature him began, She meant to show all that might be in man.

Shakespeare's Sonnets, Certdd Massev, p. 573.

1 Shake-speare the Dramatist died Feby- 2,5th. 1601, Shakspere the Player, April zard, 1616.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 143

SCENE IV.

Ambition to Beauty. 120 — xc.

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;

Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,

Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,

And do not drop in for an after-loss:

Ah, do not, when my heart hath scap'd this sorrow,

Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe,

Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,

To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,

When other petty griefs have done their spite,

But in the onset come; so shall I taste

At first the very worst of fortune's might;

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compar'd with loss of thee will not seem so.

\_Enter Nature and Time.

Students of Shakspeare's times, his life, and works, unless their view may have been distorted by a wrong interpretation of Meres' meaning when he spoke of Shakspeare's "private friends" amongst whom the "sugared sonnets" circu- lated, will have received an impression that our poet must have been in some way, to some extent, mixed up with the affairs of Ess^x. I am told that the late Mr. Croker, of the Quarterly Kei't'en.', always entertained this opinion, although he could never lay his hand on any very tangible evidence of the fact. There is constructive evidence enough to show, that if Shakspeare was not hand-in-glove with the Essex faction, he fought on their side pen-in-hand. In the chorus at the end of "Henry the Fifth" he introduced a prophecy of the Earl's expected successes in Ireland. — Shakspeare's Sonnets, Gerald Massey, p. 50, sup.

In 1587 the two chief companies of actors, claiming respectively the nominal patronage of the Queen and Lord Leicester,1 returned to London from a pro- vincial tour, during which they visited Stratford. Two subordinate compan- ies, one of which claimed the patronage of the Earl of Essex and the other that of Lord Stafford, also performed in the town during the same year. — Life of Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 33. 1 Stepfather of Essex.

144 Shake-speare England" s Ulysses,

ACT IV,

Nature to Ambition. 121=111.

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest, Now is the time that face should form another; Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. [ For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? Or who is he so fond will be the tomb Of his self-love, to stop posterity ? Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime: So thou through windows of thine age shalt see Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. But if thou live, rememb'red not to be, Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

1 The goddess Hope, Act III.

On the i4th of February [1598], a great entertainment was given at Essex House, at which the Ladies Leicester, Northumberland, Bedford, Essex, Rich; Lords Essex, Rutland, Mountjoy, and others, were present. They had two plays performed before them, which kept them till one o'clock after midnight. Considering the close connection which existed between Essex and Southamp- ton, the great patron of Shakspere, who was still abroad, but ordered to return forthwith, there can be little doubt that the plays were his, perhaps then per- formed for the first time, before this noble audience. If our informant had only been a little more particular, we might have had the dates of two of the great poet's dramas fixed; perhaps he himself took apart in them.— Lives of (he J'Uuis of ttssex, /)ei'ereux, Vol. I. p. 479.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 145

SCENE IV.

Time to Wisdom. I22=xn.

When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard; Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of Time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow;

And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

Besides his other defects, Essex's violent temper unfitted him for Court life. Cuffe, his most intimate secretary, said of him that "he always carried on his brow either love or hatred, and did not understand concealment." Wotton describes him as a "great resenter," and as "no good pupil to my Lord of Leicester, who was wont to put all his passion in his pocket." On the other hand Essex had a generosity, a truthfulness, and a warmheartedness that, in the judgment of his friends, atoned for a thousand faults. The impression pro- duced by a short interview with him, when suddenly he calls in on Anthony Bacon and a little group of friends, and brightens them up with the sunshine of his hopeful nature, reminds one of Shakespeare's description of Henry V.

A largess universal as the sun, His liberal eye doth give to every one; That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks. Bucon and Essex, Abbott, p. 26.

Bacon's insensibility is characteristic .... let any one read the Essay on Love, and remember that some persons, not always inmates of lunatic asy- lums, have held that Bacon wrote the plays of Shakespeare — his pusillanimity, his lack of passion, — History of English Literature, Saintsbury, p. 208.

10

146 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT IV.

Nature to Beauty. i23==v.

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame

The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,

Will play the tyrants to the very same,

And that unfair which fairly doth excel:

For never-resting Time leads summer on

To hideous winter and confounds him there;

Sap check'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,

Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where:

Then, were not summer's distillation left,

A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,

Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,

Nor it nor no remembrance what it was :

But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet, Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

\Exeunt.

Love's Martyr; or Rosalinds Complaint .... a Poeme enterlaced with much varietie and raritie; now first translated out of the venerable Italian Torquato Cceliano, by Robert Chester, 1601.

Landulpho. } Mogt ugly Hnes and base.browne.paper.stu£fe

' Thus to abuse our heavenly poesie,

That sacred off-spring from the braine of Jove

Mavortius. I see [my Lord] this home-spun country stuffe Brings little liking to your curious eare, Be patient, for perhaps the play will mend.

[Enter Troylits and Cressida.

Troylus. Come Cressida, my Cresset light, .... Thy knight his valiant elbow wears, That when he Shakes his furious S pea re The foe in shivering fearful sort May lay him down in death to snort. . . .

Landulpho. I blush in your behalfes at this base trash

I have a mistresse1 whose intangling wit

Will turne and winde more cunning arguments

Than could the Cretan labyrinth* ingyre.

I/i'strio-Afastix, n. i., Jno. Marston.

Cp. The School of Shakspere, Simpson, Vol. II. pp. 39, 42. 1 Cp, sub-note i, p. 40. 3 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 147

ACT V.

MUSES REPRESENTED. TRUTH — TIME — ART — FOLLY — NATURE.

SCENE I. Enter NATURE and THE GOD OF TRUTH. Nature to Truth. i24=LXXXiv.

Who is it that says most? which can say more Than this rich praise, that you alone are you ? In whose confine immured is the store Which should example where your equal grew. Lean penury within that pen doth dwell, That to his subject lends not some small glory; But he that writes of you, if he can tell That you are you, ] so dignifies his story. Let him but copy what in you is writ, Not making worse what Nature made so clear, And such a counterpart shall fame his wit, Making his style admired every where.

You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.

1 What is Truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for an answer. — Of Truth, Francis Bacon.

Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh To learned Chaucer; and, rare Beaumont, lie A little nearer Spenser, to make room For Shakspeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb. To lodge all four in one bed make a shift, For, until doomsday hardly will a fifth, Betwixt this day and that, by fates be slain, For whom your curtains need be drawn again. But if precedency* in death doth bar A fourth place in your sacred sepulchre, Under this sable marble of thine own,

Sleep, rare tragedian,2 Shakspeare, sleep alone

W, Basse, 1622.

1 Shake-speare the Dramatist, died Febry. 25th, 1601,

3 Shakspere the Player, died April 23rd, 1616,

148 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT V.

Truth to Nature. 1 25=0x11.

Your love and pity doth th' impression fill Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill, ! So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? You are my all the world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tongue; None else to me, nor I to none alive, That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong: In so profound abysm I throw all care Of others' voices, that my adder's sense To critic and to flatterer stopped are:— Mark how with my neglect I do dispense— You are so strongly in my purpose bred That all the world besides methinks are dead.

1 Truth only doth judge itself. — Of Truth, Francis liacon.

The purpose of Ao<r\v Marlvr, published in 1601, is declared on the title page.

Mar : — Mutarc dominion no)i palest liber no/us.

On page 34, supra., it is shown that the dialogue in Loir's Martyr is a play by example for this Sonnet Masque — so the authorship of Shake-speare was a matter of great moment even to the Elizabethans.

You are Mistaken, insatiable thief of my writings, who think a poet can be made for the mere expense which copying, and a cheap volume cost. The ap- plause of the world is not acquired for six or even ten sesterces. Seek out for this purpose verses treasured up, and unpublished efforts, known only to one person, and which the father himself of the virgin sheet, that has been worn and scrubbed by bushy chins, keeps sealed up in his desk.1 ./ n'c/l knozcn book cannot change its master.- But if there is one to be found yet unpol- ished by the pumice-stone, yet unadorned with bosses and cover, buy it: I have such by me, and no one shall know it. Whoever recites another's composi- tions, and seeks for fame, must buy, not a book, but the author's silence. — A/>- igram LXVI. , Alartiai.

1 Drayton's lines, p. 156, seem to point to this sentence.

2 Cp. notes, pp. 80, 89, and Bacon's borrowing from Shake-speare, p. i4<>

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 149

SCENE I.

Nature to Truth. i26=cxv.

Those lines that I before have writ do lie, Even those that said I could not love you dearer: Yet then my judgment knew no reason why My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, Divert strong minds to th' course of alt'ring things:1 Alas, why, fearing of Time's tyranny, Might I noi then say 'Now I love you best,' When I was certain o'er incertainty, 2 Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? Love is a babe; then might I not say so, To give full growth to that which still doth grow.

[ Curtain.

1 Cp. note 3, Son. 93-xvin. By referring to the Dramatis Personae, p. 24, it will be seen that Nature, in her eternizing, has returned to the intellectual line.

a Cp. Son. g6-cvii. 1. 7.

It was a prevailing tenet of the Academics, that there is no certain knowl- edge.— Of the Nature of the Gods, Cicero, p. 9.

The remarkable charge that Bacon borrowed from Shakespeare is not orig- inal, Massey in his book on the Sonnets, runs through several pages in this fashion: Personally, I have sometimes thought there was something conscious, not to say sinister, in the silence of Bacon respecting Shakespeare. As Spedding points out, Bacon had a regular system of taking notes, and of intentionally al- tering the things that he quoted . . . This opens a vast vista of responsibility in his covert mode of assimilating the thoughts, purloining the gold, and clipping the coinage of Shakespeare .... It has often been a matter of surprise that

Bacon should not have recognized Shakespeare or his work1 His

Promus is the record of much that he took directly from Shakespeare. For eight or ten years he had free play and full pasturage in Shakespeare's field before he published his first ten essays .... It is this borrowing from Shake- speare by Bacon that has given so much trouble and labor in vain to the Ba- conians . . . The simple solution is that Bacon ivas the unsuspected thief, who has been accredited with the original ownership of the property purloined by Shakespeare. — Shakspere Not Shakespeare, IT. II. /u 1 Cp. lines from Harnlet, p. 151.

150 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses \

ACT V.

SCENE II. Enter THE GODS OF FOLLY and ART. Folly to Art. i27=Lxxx.

0, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, ] And in the praise thereof spends all his might, To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame! But since your worth, wide as the ocean is.

The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,

My saucy bark, inferior far to his,

On your broad main doth wilfully appear.

Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,

Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride;

Or, being wreck'd, I am a worthless boat,

He of tall building and of goodly pride: Then if he thrive and I be cast away, The worst was this ; my love was my decay.

1 The god of Truth. "Art is true."

2 Cp. note on the sensual line, p. 86.

Elizabeth, who "looked that her word should be a warrant," chose to employ him [Bacon] in the business which belonged properly to her learned council. .... His first service of that nature, — the first at least of which I find any re- cord, was in 1594 We have a letter of Bacon's to King James, written

in 1606, in which he speaks of his "nine years' service of the crown." This would give 1597 as the year in which he began to serve as one of the learned council. — Works of Francis Bacon, Spedding. [Philosophical Writings, Vol.

1. p. 39-]

It was Bacon who withdrew himself from Essex, not Essex who shunned Ba- con As early as March, 1597, we find him therefore shunning Essex's

company in Court, desiring to speak with him, but "somewhere else than at Court." — Bacon and Essex, Edivin A. Abbott, p. 103.

Mr. Swinburne goes still farther. "Not one single alteration in the whole play," he says when speaking of the revision of Hamlet, ' 'can possibly have been made with a view to stage effect, or to present popularity and profit." Nay, he affirms that every change in the text of Hamlet has impaired its fitness for the stage and increased its value for the closet in exact and perfect proportion. — rfhe Mystery of William Shakespeare, Judge Webb, p. 88.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 151

SCENE II.

Art to Folly. 1 28— CL.

O, from what power hast thou this powerful might, With insufficiency my heart to sway? To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence ha.st thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, The more I hear and see just cause of hate? O, though I love what others do abhor, With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me, More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.

Neither was the effect of the sentence that there passed against him any more than a suspension of the exercise of some of his places: at which time also Es- sex, that could vary himself into all shapes for a time, infinitely desirous [as by the sequel now appeareth] to be at liberty to practise and revise^ his for- mer purposes. — Declaration of the Treasons of Essex, Francis Bacon, 1601.

Osric. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.

Hamlet. I humbly thank you, sir. — {Aside to Horatio,] Dost know this water-fly?

Horatio. {Aside to Hamlet,] No, my good lord.

Hamlet. {Aside to Horatio,} Thy state is the more gracious; for 't is a vice to know him.a He hath much land, and fertile; let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess: "Pis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.3 — Hamlet, v. 2.

1 On page 191 of Mr. Abbott's book, Bacon and Essex, the word is "revise," in the "Dec- laration," p. 14, "revive."

2 Essex "did not seem to know that he had ever deserved -well of Bacon." Cp. Macaulay's lines, p. 81.

3 If, upon compulsion, I were to make a guess as to the parcel of land referred to it would be that described in sub-note 2, p. 106.

152 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ACT V Folly to Art. i29=Lxxxix.

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence: Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt;1 Against thy reasons making no defence. Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, To set a form upon desired change, As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, I will acquaintance strangle and look strange ; Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong, And haply of our old acquaintance tell. '' For thee against myself I'll vow debate, For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.3

1 Psychologically, Folly partakes of the character of his great-great-grand- father, Desire. Cp. Son. n-xxxvn. 1. 3.

2 As Desire and Love, Act I.

3 Here Folly refers to Son. i8-cxLix. 1. 5, when Folly and Art were Desire and Love.

Finding that the Queen's severity [to Essex] was so disproportioned to the offence, the writer casts about to imagine other crimes, and is persuaded there must be something more at the bottom.1 — Sydney Papers, Oct. 6th. What articles were brought against him is not publicly known.— Bacon and J-',ssex, Abbott, p. 140.

Her Majesty in her royal intention never purposed to call your Lordship's doings into public question .... For first, the handling the cause in the Star Chamber, you not called, was enforced by the violence of libeling and ru- mours, wherein the Queen thought to have satisfied the world, and yet spared

your Lordship's appearance Her Majesty spared the public place of

the Star Chamber; she limited the charge precisely not to touch disloyalty; and no record remaineth to memory of I he charge or sentenced — Letter, Anthony Bacon to I'lssex to be shown the Queen. — Bacon and lissex, Abbott. p. 188. "

1 Cp. sub-notes 2 and 5, p. 116.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 153.

SCENE II.

Art to Folly. i3o=cxx.

That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel. For if vou were by my unkindness shaken1 As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time, And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken To weigh how once I suffer'd in your crime.2 O, that our night of woe might have remember'd My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits!

But that, your trespass, now becomes a fee;

Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

1 Cp. Son. i6-xxxix. 1. 5.

2 The characters are Pythagoreans. Cp. Son. I5~xxxvi. 1. 9.

Raleigh had powerful enemies, some of whom declared that the whole story of the voyage to Guiana was a fiction. It was to refute this slander that he wrote his DiscoTerie of Guiana, 1596. At the same time he dre.ru a map, which was not yet finished when the book was published. This map, long sup- posed to bs lost, has been now identified with a map in the British Museum, dated 1650 in the catalogue, but shown to be Raleigh's by a careful compar- ison with the text of the *' DiscoTerie" and with Raleigh's known hand writ- ing—Raleigh's accuracy as a topographer and cartographer of Guiana or the central district of Venezuela has been established by subsequent explorers. — Dictionary of N. B., p. 104.

Maria. He [Sir Walter Malvolio1] does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his face into more lines than are in the nezu mafi, ruilh the augmentation of the Indies. — Tiuelfth Xighl ; or, II Jiat You //'7//, in. 2.. 1 Cp. notes, p. 124.

154 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT V.

Folly to Art. i3i=cxxxv.

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,'1

And 'Will'2 to boot, and 'Will'3 in overplus;

More then enough am I that vex thee still,

To thy sweet will making addition thus.

Wilt thou, whose will1 is large and spacious,

Not once vouchsafe to hide my will4 in thine?

Shall will4 in others seem right gracious,

And in my will4 no fair acceptance shine ?

The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,

And in abundance addeth to his store ; \JEnter Nature.

So thou, being rich in 'Will,'1 add to thy 'Will'1

One will4 of mine, to make thy large 'Will'1 more.

Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;

Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.'5

\_Exit Folly.

1 Legal or artistic will.

2 The poet Folly.

3 An overplus of Folly. * Wish, good will.

5 No folly in the artistic will, yet I, the poet Folly, am there.

Essex when released from imprisonment was expressly informed that he must consider himself "under indignation" — a qualification which had the effect of deterring all but his near relations from visiting him, and, after having spent his fortunes in the wars, and overwhelmed himself with debt in the service of his country, he was deprived by the Queen of the grant upon the continuance of which he depended for his subsistence, and was brought face to face with beggary. All this was a very severe punishment, if inflicted for mere incapac- ity, even though accompanied with some degree of wilful ness and contempt of orders. It is natural to suppose that there was some other cause for the Queen's displeasure.1 — Bacon and Essex, Abbott, p. 136. 1 Cp. sub-notes 2 and 5, p. 116, and note, p. 125.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 155

SCENE II.

Nature to Art. 132=0.

Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?1 Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, | Dark'ning thy pow'r to lend base s.ubjects light? j Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem In gentle numbers time so idly spent; Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem, And gives thy pen both skill and argument. Rise, resty Muse, '* my love's1 sweet face survey, If Time have any wrinkle graven there; If any, be a satire to decay, And make Time's spoils despised every where.

Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;

So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.

1 Truth.

2 Folly.

3

Rail not gainst Fortunes sacred deitie, In youth thy virtuous patience she hath tryed, From this base earth shee'l lift thee up on hie, Where in content's rich chariot thou shalt ride, And never with impatience to abide:

Fortune will glory in thy great renowne,

And on thy feathered head1 will set a crowne.

Dame Nature to The Phoenix, Love's Martyr, p. 31.

Mr. Chamberlain's letters give us more particularly the proceedings which were continued against Essex after the meeting at York House, by which the Queen endeavoured "to break his proud Spirit."

June 23, 1600. I was yesterday at the Star Chamber upon report of some special matter that should be determined touching my Lord of Essex, when the Lord Keeper made a very grave speech in nature of a charge to the Judges, to

look to the overgrowing idle multitude of Justices of Peace: to dis-

coursers and meddlers in princes'1 matters: and, lastly, to libellers :z on occa- sion whereof he fell to a digression how mercifully Her Majesty had dealt with the Earl of Essex, in proceeding with him so mildly, and by a private hearing; whereas, if he had been brought to that place, he could not have passed without a heavy censure, the avoiding whereof must only be imputed to God and Her Majesty's clemency. — Lives of the Earls of Essex, Devereux, Vol. II. p. in.

1 Cp. note i, p. 73.

2 Cp. sub-notes 2 and 5, p. 116.

156 Shake-spectre England *s Ulysses,

ACT V. Art to Nature. i33=cxvin.

Like as, to make our appetites more keen, With eager compounds we our palate urge; As, to prevent our maladies unseen, We sicken to shun sickness when we purge; Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding; And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness To be diseas'd, ere that there was true needing. Thus policy in love, to anticipate The ills that were not, grew to faults assured And brought to medicine a healthful state Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured: But thence I learn, and find the lesson true, Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.

1 We can command Nature only by obeying her; nor can Art avail anything except as Nature's handmaiden. — Preface lo Bacon's PhilosopJiical ll'orks, p.

«5-

For such whose poems be they ne'er so rare, In private chambers that encloistered are, And by transcription daintily must go As tho' the world unworthy were to know Their rich composures, Id I hose men ?<.'//<•> keep These tcondrous relics1 in their judgment deep, And cry them up so let such pieces be Spoke of by those that shall come after me.

Poets and Posey, Michael Dray ton [quoted by Massey, p. 571]. In 1609 Shakespeare's Sonnets appeared, with the intimation that Shake- speare was not really the name of the author, but was the noted weed in which he kept invention; and in the same year Troilus and Cressida was published ?<.'//// t/ie announcement [in the preface] that the Shakespearian Plays were the property of certain grand possessors.1 — The Mystery of ll'illiam Shake- speare, Judge \Vebb, p. 73. l Cp. sub-note i, p. 142.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 157

SCENE II.

Nature to Art. i34=LXi.

Is it thy will thy image should keep open

My heavy eyelids to the weary night?

Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,

While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?

Is it thy spirit1 that thou send'st from thee

So far from home into my deeds to pry,

To find out shames and idle hours in me,

The scope and tenure of thy jealousy?

O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:

It is my love2 that keeps mine eye awake;

Mine own true love that doth my rest -defeat,

To play the watchman ever for thy sake:

For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others:] all too near.

1 Reality.

2 Truth. :{ I'olly.

It is therefore indisputable that whether it were Bacon's misfortune, or fault, or both— he was selected by the popular indignation as one of the prime causers of the Queen's indignation against Essex. Why was this? Why did the pop- ular instinct fall upon one of Essex's closest friends, the man who nine weeks ago had subscribed himself to the Earl "more his than any man's, and more his than any man" — as the principal enemy and underminer of the fallen favourite? Some counsellor must have borne the brunt, as ths Queen was thought inca- pable of such cruelty — then why did not Cecil bear the brunt? Why does Rowland White over and over again acquit Cecil of any hostile conduct to Essex? Why does he expressly say that one attack against Essex was diverted by the kindness of Cecil?1 Why does he expressly mention Bacon as an enemy? Why is Bacon himself forced to confess that Cecil remonstrated with him on the discreditable rumors of his treacherous conduct towards his former patron? — Bacon and lissex, Abbott, p. 159.

1 Cp. Raleigh's letter to Cecil, p. 125. It will be seen that Robert Cecil was the chief con- spirator against Essex, and that money and advancement were the motives that led to Bacon.'.s desertion in 1594, 1597. Cp. also Cecil's letter to Edmondes, p. 158,

158 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT V.

Art to Nature. i35=XL.

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;

What hast thou then more than thou hadst before ?

No love, my love, that thou may'st true love call;

All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.

Then if for my love, thou my love receivest,

I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest,

But yet be blam'd, if thou thyself deceivest

By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.

I do forgive thy robb'ry, gentle thief,

Although thou steal thee all my poverty;

And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief

To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury. Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.

It can be no disgrace if it were knowen that the killinge of a rebel were prac- tised; for you see that the lives of anoynted Princes are daylye sought, and we have always in Ireland geven head money for the killinge of rebels, who are evermore proclaymed at a price. So was the Earle of Desmonde, and so have all rebels been practised agaynst. Notwithstandinge, I have written this en- closed to Stafford, who only recommended that knave to me upon his credit. Butt, for your sealf, von arc not to be touched in the nuttier. And for me, I am more sorrye for beinge deceaved than for beinge declared in the practise. Your Lordship's, ever to do you service. — Raleigh to Cecil, October 1598, Life of Ralegh, Ediuards, Vol II. p. 190.

Accordingly, on October 20, [1598] Chamberlain writes: . . . "Some think the Lord Montjoy shall be sent thither deputy; others say the Earl of Essex means to take it upon him, and hopes by his countenance to quiet that country. That this was more than a mere rumour is proved by the fact that Montjoy was actually named by the council; but it is equally certain that this was a mere blind, a stratagem to decoy Essex into assuming the command for himself. This can be proved by the testimony of Cecil. The outside world thought that the Council was in earnest . . . But Cecil, writing on the 6th November to Sir Thomas Edmondes, reveals, as a secret, that though Montjoy was named, the intention was to send Essex, 'my Lord Montjoy is named; but to you, in secret 1 sfieak it, not as a secretary, but as a friend, that I think the Earl of Essex shall go Lieutenant of the Kingdom,' " — Bacon and Essex, Abbott, p. 106.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 159

SCENE II.

Nature to Art. 136=01.

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends

For thy neglect of Truth in beauty dyed?

Both truth and beauty on my love depends;

So dost thou too, and therein dignified.

Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say

'Truth needs no colour with his colour fix'd;

Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;

But best is best, if never intermix'd' ?

Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb ?

Excuse not silence so; for 't lies in thee

To make him much outlive a gilded tomb,

And to be prais'd of ages yet to be.

Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how

To make him seem long hence as he shows now.

[ Curtain.

To the Queen's birthday of this year [Nov. 17, 1598] belongs an anecdote which shows what ingenuity Essex displayed in annoying his rival. As was the custom of the day, the leading courtiers tilted at the ring in honour of her Majesty, and each Knight was required to appear in some disguise. It was known, however, that Sir Walter Raleigh would ride in his own uniform of orange-tawny medley, trimmed with black budge of lamb's wool. Essex, to vex him, came to the lists with a body-guard of two thousand retainers all dressed in orange-tawny,1 so that Raleigh and his men seemed only an insignificant di- vision of Essex's splendid retinue. — William Shakespeare, A Critical Study, Geo. Brandes, p. 254.

I am not wize enough to give you advise; but if you take it for a good coun- cell to relent towards this tirant, [Essex] you will repent it when it shal be to late. His mallice is fixt, and will not evaporate by any your mild courses . . . Lett the Queen hold hyme while she hath hyme. Hee will ever be the canker of her estate and sauftye. Princes are lost by securetye; and preserved by pre- vention. I have seen the last of her good dayes, and all ours,1 after his lib- ertye. — Sir Walter Raleigh to Robert Cecil, 1601. — Life of Ralegh, Edzvards, Vol. II. p. 223.

1 Cp. the conjectural 1589 Dramatis Personae of Hamlet, index, and Raleigh as Malvolio, pp. 124, 153-

160 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ANTI-MASQUE1 ACT V.

SCENE III. Enter, [DISGUISED AS BIRDS,2] NATURE, TIME, and THE GODS OF TRUTH, ART, and FOLLY.

Truth masked as The PhoeniA", emblem of Immortality.

Time ' Father Timf, Time.

Art Dsedalu,?,* " Art.

Folly " " Icaru5,3 " ' Folly.

Nature " The Crowf;,4 " ' Nature.

Father TimE. i37=cxxvn.

[To The Crowe.]

In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now is black beauty's successive heir, And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: For since each hand hath put on Nature's power, Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black, Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, Sland'ring creation with a false esteem:

Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so.

1 Let anti-masques not be long; they have been commonly of fools, satyrs, baboons, wild men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches, Ethiops, pigmies, turquets, nymphs, rustics, Cupids, Statuas moving, and tha like. (>/' .}fas(/ttcs and Tri- umphs, /Tiuuis J>acon.

2 The gods themscK <'s,

Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them.

ll'inlcr^s Talc, iv. 4.

:; Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, That taught his sin th^ office of a fowl? And yet for all his wings the fool was drown'd. Third ffcnrv I '/. , v. 4.

* In the Hssex poem, ./ Loval Appeal in Courtcsv, we have "Crowe." In the 1609 Quarto, Son. cxni, 1. 12, the spelling is "Croe."

Love s Labor s Won; Or. The Enacted Will. 161

SCENE III.

ANTI-MASQUE.

IcaruS. i38=cxxx.

[To The Crowe.]

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;1

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

1 It will be remembered that a too near approach to the sun caused the disas- ter in the Icarian Sea.

Samuel Daniel, poet laureate in the interim succeeding Spenser and prior to Ben Jonson — favoured by Southampton and a member of the Pembroke or Arcadia Coterie. — Daniel's tragedy of Philotas was brought before the Privie Council as a treasonable work; and he had been summoned before the Lords to answer the charge.1 Daniel appealed to the Earl of Devonshire [who as Lord Mount joy had been promoted by Elizabeth for deserting Essex and Southampton at the critical moment],2 the appeal greatly disconcerted the Earl, hence the following letter:3

MY LORD, Understanding your honor is displeased with me, it hath more shak- en my heart than I did think any fortune could have done; in respect I have not deserved it, nor done nor spoken anything, in this matter of Philotas, unworthy of you or me. And now, having satisfied my Lord Cranbourne, I crave to un- burthsn me of this imputation, zuith vour honour * And it is the last visit I will ever make. And, therefore, I beseech you to understand all the great error I hai'c committed. First I told the lords, I had writ three acts of this tragedy the Christmas before my Lord Essex troubles, as divers in the city could witness. I said the Master of the Revels had perused it. I said I had read some parts of

1 He that shall say that Essex died not for treason is punishable. — King James.

2 Cp. Lingard. 3 Cp. Our English Homer, Tkos. IV. White. * Mountjoy married Lady Rich, sister of Essex.

1 62 Shake- sp ear e England ' s Ulysses,

ACT V. ANTI-MASQUE.

D&daluS. 1 39=cxxxn.

[To The Crowe.]

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,

Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, !

Have put on black and loving mourners be,

Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. ]

And truly not the morning sun of heaven

Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east.

Nor that full star that tfshers in the even

Doth half that glory to the sober west,

As those two mourning1 eyes become thy face:

O, let it then as well beseem thy heart

To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,

And suit thy pity like in every part.

Then will I swear beauty herself is black And all they foul that thy complexion lack.

1 Cp. note i, p. 161.

it to your honour. And this I said, having none else of power to grace me, now in court and hoping that you, out of your knowledge of books and favour of let- ters and me, might answer them, there was nothing in it disagreeing, nor any- thing— as I protest there is not — but of the universal notions of ambition and envy, the perpetual argument of books and tragedies. 1 did not say you encour- aged me unto the presenting- of if. If I should I had been a villain; for that when I showed it to your honor, I was not resolved to have had it acted; nor should it have been had not my necessities overmastered me.1 And, therefore, I beseech you, let not an Earl of Devonshire overthrow what a Lord Mountjoy hath done who hath done me good; and I have done him honour. The world must and shall know my innocence, whilst I have a pen to show it. For that I know I shall live inter historiam temporis, as well as greater men, I must not be such an object unto myself as to neglect my reputation. And having been known throughout all England for my virtue, I will not leave a stain of villainy upon my name, whatsoever else might 'scaps me unfortunately, through my indiscretion and misunderstanding of the time. Wherein, good my Lord, mistake not myn heart, that hath been and is a sincere honourer of you and seeks you now for no other end, but to clear itself and to be held as I am, though I never come near you more. Your honour's poor follower and faithful servant.

Samuel Daniel.

1 The difficulty of unraveling "The Mystery of William Shakespeare" arises from the fact that good men [antagonistic to the Church of Rome! for the honor of the English Church and of English womanhood, took pride in shielding Elizabeth from the imputation of the character of Gertrude in Hamlet. Cp- Cardinal Allen's lines in chapter, Ulysses and The Court of Eliz- abeth, and note from Brandes on the 1603 Quarto of Hamlet, p. 138,

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 163

SCENE III.

ANTI-MASQUE.

Father TimE. i4o=LXvn.

[To The Crowe.]

Ah! wherefore with infection should he1 live,

And with his presence grace impiety,

That sin3 by him advantage should achieve

And lace itself with his society?

Why should false painting imitate his cheek, *

And steal dead seeing of his living hue ?

Why should poor beauty3 indirectly seek

Roses of shadow, 4 since his5 rose is true ?

Why should he1 live, now Nature bankrupt is,

Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?

For she hath no exchequer now but his,

And, proud of many, lives upon his gains.

O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had In days long since, before these last so bad.

1 Dtcdcilus. 2 l'\)lly. ;i Dtcdalns, psychologically from Act IV.

4 Essex as shown by the acrostic. Cp. note i, p. 164. 5 Dicdalus, "art is true."

Philotas- Essex. My Lord, you far mistake me, if you deem

I plead for life, that poor weak blast of breath,

From which so I have ran with light esteem,

And so well have acquainted me with death:

No, no, my lords it is not that I fear,

It is mine honour that I seek to clear;

And which, if my disgraced cause would let

The language of my heart be understood,

Is all which I have ever sought to get

If I must needs be made the sacrifice

Of envy,1 and that no oblation will

The wrath of Kings, but only blood suffice,

Yet let me have something left that is not ill.

Is there no way to get unto our lives,

1 In a political sense Essex was the hero of the people — "they never ceased to adore him" but the Clown's real hatred of Essex sprang not from Envy but from our poet's secret contempt, — not only for the profligacy of Elizabeth, but for the plebeian1 time-servers who comprised the personnel of the Court — and this hatred was intensified from the danger of the true character of Elizabeth and her ministers being immortalized in the play of Hamlet, Cp. sub-notes ^ and 5, p. 116, the Philotas-Essex lines, p. 165, and note i, p. 173.

1 "Blood is a beggar," Nash on Hamlet, 1589,

164 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT V. ANTI-MASQUE.

The PkceniX. ! 141 =cxxxi.

[To Daedalus.]

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold, Thy face hath not the power to make love groan: To say they err, I dare not be so bold, Although I swear it to myself alone. And, to be sure that is not false I swear, A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, One on another's neck, do witness bear Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place. In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.

1 In Sonnets 141 and 145 the thought "floats double," bird and shadou1, and the lines refer personally to Kssex as the Phoenix. Cp. Drayton's lines, p. 98, Sidney's, p. 120, and Ben Jonson's:

Who would have thought that Philautia1 durst Or have usurped noble Storge's name.2

s AVev/s, v. 3.

But first to have our honour overthrown ?:<

Alas! tho' grace of Kings all greatness gives,

It cannot give us virtue, that's our own.

Tho' all be theirs our hearts and hands can do,

Yet that by which we do is only ours.

The trophies that our blood erects unto

Their memory to glorify their powers,

Let them enjoy:* yet only to have done

Worthy of grace, let not that be undone .......

Tragedy of Pliilotas, [Essex as Philotas], Daniel, 1605.

1 Character assumed by Essex in The Device of Self -Love, 1595. Cp. Sub-note i, p. 173.

2 The Phoenix was Elizabeth's emblem. Cp. Ulyssis and The Court of Elizabeth, index.

3 Cp. Peele's lines, p. 18. "The Argument," p. 21, and sub-note 2, p. 116.

* .................. The genius of that time

Would leave to her [Elizabeth] the glory in that kind, And that the utmost powers of English rhyme Should be ivithin her peaceful reign confined.1

Dedication, Tragedy of Philotas, Daniel, 1605. 1 Shake-speare the Dramatist died Feby. 25th, 1601. Shakspere the Player. April 23rd. 1616.

Loves Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 165

SCENE III.

ANTI-MASQUE.

Father TimE. i42=LXvm.

[To The Phcenix.]

Thus is his1 cheek the map of days outworn, When beauty liv'd and died as flowers do now, Before these bastard signs of fair were borne, Or durst inhabit on a living brow;2 Before the golden tresses of the dead, The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, To live a second life on second head; Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay:2 In him1 those holy antique hours are seen. Without all ornament, itself and true, Making no summer of another's green, Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;8 And him1 as for a map doth Nature store, To show false art what beauty was of vore. 4

1 Dicdalus. 2 Essex as shown by the acrostic.

* Envious Time in his worship of D<cdalus, attempts to belittle Mother Na- ture by accusing her of plagarism, i. e., imitating the Cretan labyrinth of Dic- dalits in the 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets.

4 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

Philotas-Essex, whatsoever gloss you lay

Upon your rotten cause, it is in vain;

Your pride, your carriage, ever did bewray

Your discontent, your malice, and disdain:

You cannot palliate mischief, but it will

Through all the fairest coverings of deceit

Be always seen. We know those streams of ill1

Flow'd from that head, that fed them with conceit.

Let not my one day's error52 make you tell,

That all my life-time I did never well;

It is unjust to join to a present fact3 More of time past,1 than it hath ever had Before to do withal, as if it lack'd Sufficient matter elss to make it bad. I do confess indeed I've wrote something.1

1 The Play of Hamlet. Cp. date of Hamlet, p. 114, and sub-notes 2 and 5, p. 116.

2 The Uprising, Febry. 8th. 1601.

1 66 Shake-speare England * s Ulysses,

ACT V. ANTI-MASQUE.

D&daluS. i43=xxxvin.

[To The Crowe.]

How can my Muse want subject to invent,

While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse

Thine own sweet argument, too excellent

For every vulgar paper to rehearse?

O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me

Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;

For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, )

When thou thyself dost give invention light ? j 1

Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth

Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;

And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth

Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my slight Muse do please these curious days, The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

1 New discoveries must be sought from the light of Nature, not fetched back out of the darkness of antiquity. — Nov. Org. cxxn.

Against this title of the Son of Jove,1

And that not of the King but to the King

1 freely used these words out of my love.2

And thereby hath that dangerous liberty

Of speaking truth, with truth on former grace,

Betray'd my meaning into enmity,

And drawn on argument of my disgrace:3

So that I see, tho' I speak iu hat / 'ought,

It was not in the manner as I ought.1

Tragedy of Phtiotas, [Essex as Philotas] Daniel, 1605.

1 I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing [whatsoever he penned] he never blotted out a line, my answer hath been, would In- had blotted a thousand, which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this, but for their ignorance, who chose that circumstance to commend their friend by, rc//r;r- in he most faulted, — De Shakespeare nostrati, Ben Jonson, 1641.

2 Essex, if he did not despise the Queen, at least did not respect her. He boasts to Fran- cis Bacon that he knows how to manage her, and to Anthony Bacon, he avows his intention of

doing the Queen good against her will In the passage in which he describes to Anthony

Bacon the necessity for thus "doing the Queen good" he compares himself to "a waterman looking oneway and rowing the other."— July 1596, Birch LCp. Bacon and Essex, Abbott, pp. 243 and 244].

8 Cp. Fulke Greville's account of Essex, p. 136.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 167

SCENE III.

ANTI-MASQUE.

IcarnS. 144 — =xxx.

[To The Phoenix.]

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

'Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,

And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.

1 Essex as the Phoenix. Cp. note i, p. 164, also note 5, p. 154.

But I must give this testimony to my Lord Cecil, that one time in his house at the Savoy he dealt with me directly, and said to me, Cousin, I hear it, but I believe it not, that vou should do some ill office to my Lord of Essex ;l for my part [said he] I am merely passive and not active in this action, I follow the Queen and that heavily, and I lead her not, . . . and the same course I would wish you [Francis] to take; whereupon I satisfied him how far I was from any such mind. — From Bacon's Apology Concerning Essex, 1604.

According to Macaulay in his famous Essay, Bacon did all in his power to dissuade the Earl of Essex from accepting the government of Ireland, and so it is stated in the Apology, which in 1604 Bacon addressed to Devonshire. Un- fortunately every word of this apology can be shozvn to be untrue. Following the example of Cicero and Pliny, Bacon kept copies of all his important letters, and in his works we may read a correspondence with Essex extending over the years 1596, 1597, 1598 and 1599 zchfch gii'es the lie to everything he said in 1604. — The Mystery of William Shakespeare, Judge Webb, pp. 277, 278.

1 Most likely confirming the Queen's belief. Linsistent because introspective] that Hamlet was a satire on the court, the uncertainty of this fact being the bone of contentionjaetween Essex and the Queen. Cp. the Philotas-Essex lines, p. 166, and Fulke Greville's piercing eyes of an atturnies office," p. 136.

1 68 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT V. ANTI-MASQUE.

The CroivE. i45=xix.

[To Time.]

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the long-liv'd phoenix1 in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, To the wide world and all her fading sweets; But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: O, carve not with thy hours my love's2 fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; Him2 in thy course untainted8 do, allow For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.4

Yet do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young.'

[_ Curtain.

1 Generalizing.

2 Essex as the Phoenix, shown by the acrostic, and confirmed by 1. 14. Cp. note i, p. 164, and note 4, p. 163.

3 Cp. note 3, p. 165.

4 So shall the world commend a sweet conceipte, And humble fayth on heavenly honour waite. A Loyal Appeal in Coitrtesv, A.v.sv.v, 1601.

But if Shakespeare's colleagues, acting Shakespeare's l'la)s, gave umbrage to Essex's political opponents in Henry //'., applauded his ambition in Henry J-\, and were accessories to his disloyalty in Richard //., there were playwrights and players ready enough to back the winning side. Henslowe, an apparent time-server, commissioned Dekker to re-write his Phaethon1 for presentation be- fore the Court [1600], with, it is fair to suppose, a greater insistence on the presumption and catastrophe of the 'Suns Darling;'1 and Ban Jonson, in his Cynthia's Revels [1600], put forth two censorious allusions to Essex's conduct. - Xlutkespeare' s Poems, Geo. M'yndham, p. xxxm. 1 Essex, the fallen favorite.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 169

SCENE IV.

Enter NATURE and THE GODS OF TRUTH and ART. Nature to Truth. i46=cvm.

What 's in the brain that ink may character, Which hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit ? \Vhat 's new to speak, what now to register, That may express my love or thy dear merit? Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, I must each day say o'er the very same, Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, E'en as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.1 So that eternal love in love's fresh case Weighs not the dust and injury of age, Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, But makes antiquity for aye his page,

Finding the first conceit of love there bred Where time and outward form would show it dead.

1 As Rarity in Act I. Cp. Dramatis Personae, p. 24.

It has, too, been argued ingeniously, if not convincingly, that he [Shake- speare] was the author of the somewhat clumsy sonnet l Phaeton1 to his friend Florio, ' which prefaced in i5gi'2 Florio's 'Second Frutes,' a series of Italian- English dialogues for students.

Sweet friend whose name agrees with thy increase, How fit arrival art thou of the spring! For when each branch hath left his flourishing, And green-locked Summer's shady pleasure cease: She makes the Winter's storms repose in peace, And spends her franchise on each living thing: The daisies sprout, the little birds do sing, Herbs, gums, and plants do vaunt of their release. So when that all our English Wits lay dead, [Except the laurel that is ever green] Thou with thy Fruit our barrenness o'erspread And set thy flower y pleasance to be seen. Such fruits, such flow'rets of mortality Were ne'er before brought out of Italy.

Life of Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 84.

1 Essex, the fallen favorite. Cp. "The Argument," p. 21, and the Phi lotas-Essex lines, p. 165. a This, in a way, confirms Nash's date of Hamlet. Cp. note, p. 114.

170 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ACT V.

Truth to Nature. i47=cxxn.

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full character'd with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain Beyond all date, e'en to eternity; Or at the least, so long as brain and heart Have faculty by Nature1 to subsist; Till each to raz'd oblivion yield his part Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. That poor retention could not so much hold, Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; Therefore to give them from me was I bold, To trust those tables that receive thee more:

To keep an adjunct to remember thee

Were to import forgetfulness in me.

1 Cp. note 2, p. 118.

Seated between the Old World and the New, A land there is no other land may touch, Where reigns a Queen in peace and honor true; Stories or fables do describe no such. Never did Atlas such a burthen bear, As she, in holding up the world opprest; Supplying with her virtue, every where, Weakness of friends, errors of servants best.1 No nation breeds a warmer blow for war, And yet she calms them with her majesty; No age hath ever wit refined so far, And yet she calms them by her policy. To her thy son must make his sacrifice, If he will have the morning of his eyes.

From the Device of Self-Love, Essex, 1595.

Lives of the Earls of Essex, Devereux, Vol. II. p. 592.

Essex is preparing to receive the Queen at York House in the Strand with a

grand entertainment and a sumptuous Masque given in her honor; for which

Bacon is composing characters and words. The play being given in Essex's

1 Cp. sub-notes 2 and 5, p. 116.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 171

SCENE IV.

Art to Truth. i48=LXXxi.

Or I shall live your epitaph to make, Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; From hence your memory, death cannot take, Although in me each part will be forgotten. Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die; The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.1 Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead; You still shall live — such virtue hath my pen- Where breath most breathes, e'en in the mouths of men. !

1 "The Sonnets do not speak to beings of flesh and blood." Cp. note 2, p. 57.

name, here are the means for a striking and conspicuous compliment to Raleigh. Bacon frames a scene of the masque in happy allusion to the Amazon and to Raleigh's voyage. Essex has not the grace to let it stand. The glory of Ral- eigh breaks his rest, for he himself aspires to be all that Raleigh is, — renowned in war even more than in letters and in courts. He strikes his pen through Bacon"1 s lines, ivhich drop from the acted scene and from the printed mas- que. A contemporary copy of this suppressed part remains in the State Pa- per's Office. — Personal History of Lord Bacon, IV. Hepivorth Dixon, p. 74.

At Cadiz it appears that Essex and the two Howards were the only persons who refrained from pillage, and who considered that they had some higher

duties to perform than the enrichment of themselves Essex took for his

share the valuable library of Jerome Osorius, formerly Bishop of Algarve, a large part of which he subsequently presented to the Bodleian Library, at Ox- ford.— Lives of The Earls of Essex, Devereux, Vol. I. pp. 369, 373.

In the Bodleian Library there is a copy of the Aldine edition of Ovid's "Metamorphoses" [1502] and on the title is the signature "Wm. She.," which experts have declared— not quite conclusively— to be a genuine autograph of the poet. — Life of Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 15.

72 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

ACT V.

Truth to Art. i49=xxxi.

Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposed dead, ' And there reigns Love and all Love's loving parts. And all those friends which I thought buried. * How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye *As interest of the dead, wThich now appear But things remov'd that hidden in thee lie. Thou art the grave where buried Love doth live, ~ Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, Who all their parts of me to thee did give; That due of many, now is thine alone: Their images I lov'd I view in thee, And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.

1 Cp. Son. 125-0x11. 11. 3, 12.

2 Psychologically Lore is the great-great-grand father of Art. Cp. Dramatis Personae p. 24.

I would remind the reader of that fragment of a Masque [written about 1594, 1595], of which an account is given in Mr. Spedding's Letters and Life of Bacon [Vol. I., pp. 386, 391], where Bacon's prose breaks into fourteen lines1 of good Shake-spearian blank versa; for although the Masque has been usually attributed to Essex, and is not, perhaps, absolutely known to be Ba- con's work, yet it is pretty clear from what Mr. Spedding writes concerning it that he believed that Bacon wrote it for Essex [and of this I have not the least doubt], for he says, "if it be quite certain that it was the Earl's own composi- tion, his style in things of this kind must have been so like Bacon's that I for my part should despair of distinguishing their several work by examination of the workmanship." And he clearly shows elsewhere that Bacon was in the habit of drafting such papers for Essex, and admits that it is proved that Essex's Device of Self -Lore was written by Bacon. — The Author shi-p of Shakespeare^

Holmes, Vol. II. p. 613. 1 CP. p. 170.

Love s Labor s Won; Or, The Enacted Will. 173

SCENE IV.

Nature to Art. i5o=LV.

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish Time. T When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. } 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room, E'en in the eyes of all posterity That wrear this world out to the ending doom. J So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.2

[ Curtain.

1 The monuments of wit survive the monuments of power; the verses of a poet endure without a syllable lost, while states and empires pass many periods. Let him [Essex1] not think he shall descend, for he is now upon a hill as a ship is mounted upon the ridge of a wave; but that hill of the Muses is above tem- pests, always clear and calm; a hill of the goodliest discovery that man can have, being a prospect upon all the errors and wanderings of the present and former times. Yea in some cliff [?] it leadeth tha eye beyond the horizon of time, and givethno obscure divinations of times to come. — From the Device of Self- Loc'e* Essex, 1595. — Bacon and Essex, Abbot I, p. 60.

2 Cp. italicized lines in sub-note i, p. 117 and the Phoenix's lines to Mother Nature, pp. 104-107.

1 It is of course Essex who is intended to speak through the Squire, and to assure the Queen that for her sake he renounces the works of Philautia.— Bacon and Essex, Abbott, p. 61,

2 Cp. Judge Holmes' note, p. 172.

1 74 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

THE EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Folly. I5I=CLIII. I52=CLIV.

Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep: A maid of Dian's this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love A dateless lively heat, still to endure, And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fir'd, The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; I, sick withal, the help of bath desir'd, And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest. But found no cure: the bath for my help lies Where Cupid got new fire — my mistress' eyes. The little Love-God lying once asleep. Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep, Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd; And so the general of hot desire Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm 'd. This brand she quenched in a cool well by, Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy For men diseas'd; but I, my mistress' thrall, Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

FINIS,

THE ORIGIN OF HAMLET.

I come no more to make you laugh: things now, That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe We now present.

Prologue, Henry VI IL

Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession. Comedy oj Errors, in. i.

A kino-,

Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made.

Hamlet, n. 2.

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars.

Othello, v. 2,

176

LEYCESTERS

Common-wealth:

CONCEIVED, SPOKEN

AND PUBLISHED WITH

most earnest protestation of

all Dutifull good will and affec- tion towards this Realm, for

whose good onely, it is made common to many.

Job the 20. verse the 27.

The Heavens shall reveale his iniquity, and the Earth shall rise up against him.

Published Antwerp, 1584, London, June 25, 1585, Paris, 1585, Naples, [Latin] 1585, Reprinted, 1641 / Suppressed by Elizabeth, Aug. 1585.

1 Across the title page of my 1641 Copy, is inscribed; "Written by Parsons or by memory and help of Cecil L. Burleigh."

12

LEYCESTER'S COMMONWEALTH, 1585.

He took my father grossly, full of bread, With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May. '

Hamlet, HI. 3, [1589].

Gentleman. T AM not ignorant how that misery procu- L reth amity, and the opinion of calamity, Misery mov- moveth affection of mercy and compassion, eth mercy. even towards the wicked : the better fortune alwayes is subject to envy, and hee that suf- fereth, is thought to have the better cause, my experience of the divers raignes and pro- ceedings of King Edward, Queen Mary, and of this our most gratious soveraigne hath taught mee not a little, touching the sequell of these affaires. And finally, [my good friends] I must tell you plaine [quoth hee; and this hee spake with great asseveration] that I could wish with all my heart, that either these differences were not among us at all, or els that they were so temperatly on all parts pursued: as the Common-state of our Countrey, the blessed raigne of her Majesty, and the common cause of true religion, were not endangered thereby. But now: and there hee brake of, and turned aside.

1 Leicester died Sept. 4th, 1588, supposedly poisoned. Cp. note on the first Quarto of Hamlet, p. 138.

"The dominant note in the play is Hamlet's veneration for the memory of his father." — Sir Henry Irving.

178

The Origin of Hamlet.

179

The nature and practize of the Guin- eans.

The Lawyer seeing him hold his peace Lawyer. and depart, hee stepped after him, and tak- ing him by the gowne said merrily : Sir, all men are not of your complexion, some are of quick- er and more stirring Spirits, and doe love to fish in water that is troubled, for that they doe participate the Blacke-moores humour, that dwell in Guinea [whereof I suppose you have heard and scene also some in this Land] whose exercise at home is [as some write] the one to hunt, catch, and sell the other, and alwayes the stronger to make money of the weaker for the time. But now if in Eng- land vtt should live in peace and unity of the state, as they doe in Germany, notwithstand- ing their differences of Religion, and that the one should not pray upon the other: then should the great Fawcons for the field [I meane the favorites of the time] faile where- on to feed, which were an inconvenience as you know.

Truly Sir, said the Gentleman, I thinke Gentleman. you rove nearer the marke then you weene: for if I bee not deceived the very ground of much of these broiles whereof wee talke, is but a very pray: not, in the minds of the Prince or state [whose intentions no doubt bee most just and holy] but in the greedy imagination and subtile conceipt of him, who at this present in respect of our sinnes, is permitted by God, to tyrannize both Prince and state: and being himself of no The Tyrant

i8o

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Three differ- ences of re- ligion in Eng- land.

of English religion, feedeth notwithstanding upon our differences in religion, to the fatting of him- selfe and ruine of the Realme. For where- as by the common distinction now received in speech, there are three notable differences of religion in the Land, the two extreames, whereof are the Papist and the Puritan, and the religious Protestant obtaining the meane: this fellow being of neither, maketh his gaine of all: and as hee seeketh a King- dome by the one extreame, and spoile by the other: so hee useth the authority of the third, to compasse the first two, and the counter-mine of each one, to the overthrow of all three.

To this I answered: In good sooth Sir, I see now where you are: you are fallen into the common place of all our ordinary talke and conference in the university : for I know that you meane my L. of Leicester, 1 who is the subject of all pleasant discourses at this day throughout the Realme.

Gentleman. Not so pleasant as pittifull, answered

the Gentleman, if all matters and circum- stances were well considered, except any man take pleasure to jeast at our owne mis- eries, which are like to bee greater by his iniquity [if God avert it not] then by all the wickednesse of England besides: hee being the man that by all probability, is like to bee the bane and fatall destiny of our state,

^ Stepfather of Hamlet-Essex. Cp. note i, p. 178, and note i, p. 186,

Scholar.

The Earle of Leycester.

The Origin of Hamlet.

181

with the eversion of true religion, whereof by indirect meanes, hee is the greatest en- emy that the Land doth nourish.

Leicester s Common-wealth, pp. 8, 9, 10.

You know the Beares love, said 'the Gentleman, which is all for his owne paunch, and so this Beare-whelp, turneth all to his owne commodity, and for greedines thereof, will overturne all if hee bee not stopped or

mouzeled in time And surely unto

mee it is a strange speculation, whereof I cannot pick out the reason [but onely that I doe attribute it to Gods punishment for our sinnes] that in so wise and vigilant a state as ours is, and in a Countrey so well acquainted and beaten with such dangers: a man of such a spirit as hee is knowne to bee, of so extreame ambition, pride, falshood and trechery: so borne, so bred up, so nooseled in treason from his infancy, decended of a tribe of traytors, and fleshed in conspiracy against the Royall bloud of King Henries children in his tender yeares, and exercised ever since in driftes against the same, by the bloud and ruine of divers others: a man so well knowen to beare secret malice against her Majesty, for causes irreconcileable, and most deadly rancour against the best and wisest Councellours of her highnesse: that such a one [I say so hatefull] to God and man, and so markeable to the simplest sub- ject of this Land by the publique insignes of

Gentleman.

A strange speculation.

182

Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

Lawyer.

Gentleman.

The Law a- gainst talk- ing.

his tyrannous purpose, should bee suffered so many yeares without check, to aspire to tyranny by most manifest waves, and to pos- sesse himselfe [as now he hath done] of Court Councell, and Countrey, without controle- ment: so that nothing wanteth to him but onely his pleasure, and the day already con- ceived in his mind to dispose as hee list, both of Prince, Crowne, Realme, and Religion. Leyccster s Common-wealth^ p. n.

After the Gentleman had said this, the Lawyer stood still, somewhat smiling to him- selfe, and looking round about him, as though hee had been half afeard, and then said. My masters, doe you read over or study the stat- utes that come fourth ? have you not heard of the proviso made in the last Parliament for punishment of those who speake so broad of such men as my L. of Leicester is ?

Yes, said the Gentleman, I have heard how that my L. of Leycester was very care- full and diligent at that time to have such a Law to passe against talkers: hoping [be- like] that his L. under that generall restraint might lie the more quietly in harbour from the tempest of mens tongues, which tatled busily at that time, of divers his Lordships actions and affaires, which perhaps himselfe would have wished to passe with more se- cresie. As of his discontentment and prep- aration to rebellion : . . . of his disgrace and checks received in Court: of the fresh death of

The Origin of Hamlet.

183

the noble Earle of Essex:1 and of this mans hasty snatching up of the widdow, 2 whom he sent up and downe the countrey from house to house by privy wayes, thereby to avoid the sight and knowledge of the Queenes Majesty. And albeit hee had not onely used her at his good liking before, for satisfying of his owne lust, but also married and re- married her for contentation of her friends: yet denied hee the same, by solemne oath to her Majesty and received the holy commun- ion thereupon [so good a conscience hee hath] and consequently threatned most sharp re- venge towards all subjects which should dare to speake thereof: and so for the concealing both of this and other his doings, which hee desired not to have publike, no marvaile though his Lordship were so diligent a pro- curer of that law for silence.

Ley c ester s Common-wealth^ pp. 14, 15.

I cannot but greatly bee moved, both for these considerations well touched by you, as also for some other, . . . especially, now when all men presume that her Majesty [by the continuall thwartings which have been used against all her marriage] is not like to leave unto the Realme, that pretious Jewell so much and long desired of all English hearts, I meane the Royall heires of her owne body.

Actions of Leycester whereof hee would have no speech.

Lazvver.

1 Walter Devereux, the first Earl.

2 Lattice Knollys, mother of Shake-speare.

1 84

Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

Gentleman.

Divers mar- riages of her Ma. defeat- ed.

Thwartings call you the defeating of all her Majesties most honourable offers of mar- riage? [said the other] truly in my opinion you should have used an other word to ex- presse the nature of so wicked a fact: where- by alone, if their were no other, this un- fortunate man, hath done more hurt to his Common-wealth then if hee had murdered many thousands of her subjects, or betrayed whole armies to the professed enemy. I can remember well my selfe, foure treatises to this purpose, undermined by his meanes; The first with the Swethen King: the second with the Archduke of Austria: the third with Henry King of France that now reigneth: and the fourth with the brother and heire of said Kingdome. For I let passe many other secret motions made by greate Potentates to her Majesty for the same purpose, but these foure are openly knowen, and therefore I name them. Which foure are as well knowne to have beene all disturbed by this Dawes, as they were earnestly pursued by the other. And for the first three Suters, hee drove them away, by protesting and swearing that him- self was contracted unto her Majesty, where- of her highnesse was sufficiently advertised by Cardinall Chatilian in the first treaty for France, and the Cardinall soone after puni- shed [as is thought] by this man with poison. But yet this speech hee gave out then, every where among his friends both strangers and

The Origin of Hamlet. 185

other, that hee [forsooth] was assured to her Majesty and consequently that all other Princes must give over their sutes, for him. Whereunto notwithstanding, when the Swe- then would hardly give eare, this man con- ferred with his Privado to make a most un- seemely and disloyall proofe thereof for the others satisfaction, which thing I am enforc- ed by duty to passe over with silence, for honour to the parties who are touched there- in: as also I am to conceale his said filthy Privado, though worthy otherwise for his dis- honesty to be displayed to the World: but my Lord himselfe, I am sure, doth well remember both the man and the matter. And albeit there was no wise man at that time who knowing my L. supected not the false-hood, and his arrogant affirmation touching this contract with her Majesty, yet some both abroad and at home might doubt thereof per- haps: but now of late, by his knowen mar- riage with his Minion Dame LetticecAEss€X, hee hath declared manifestly his owne most impudent and disloyall dealing with his sov- eraigne in this report.

For that report [quoth the Lawyer] I Lawyer. know that it was common and maintained by many, for divers yeares: yet did the wiser sort make no accompt thereof, seeing it came onely from himselfe, and in his owne behalfe. Neither was it credible, that her Majesty who refused so noble Knights and

1 86

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

The basenes of Leycesters ancestors.

Princes as Europe hath not the like: would make choise of so meane a peere as Robin Dudley is, noble onely in two descents, and both of them stained with the Block, from which also himselfe, was pardoned but the other day, being condemned thereunto by law for his deserts, as appeareth yet in pub- like records. And for the widdow of Essex, I marvaile Sir [quoth hee] how you call her his wife, seeing the canon law standeth yet in force touching matters of marriage within the Realme.

Oh [said the gentleman laughing] you meane for that hee procured the poisoning of her Husband, in his journey from Ireland. You must thinke that Doctor Dale will dis- pence in that matter, as hee did [at his Lord- ships appointment] with his Italian physitian Doctor Julio, to have two wives at once : at the least wise the matter was permitted, and borne out by them both publiquely [as all the world knoweth] and that against no lesse persons then the Archbishop of Canterbury himselfe, whose overthrow was principally wrought by this Tyrant for contrarying his will, in so beastly a demand. But for this controversie whether the marriage bee good or no, I leave it to bee tried hereafter, be- tweene my yong L. of Denbighe, and M. Sidney,1 whom the same most con-

Gentleman.

Doctor Dale.

Doctor Julio.

The A r c h- bishops over- throw for not allowing two wives to Ley- cester h i s Physitian.

1 The accomplished Sir Philip Sidney [nephew to Leicester] attempted a refutation of the libel [Leycester's Commonwealth] but with all his abilities he sunk under the task. — Lingard. Vol. VIII. p. 307.

The Origin of Hamlet.

187

cerneth: For that it is like to deprive him of a goodly inheritance if it take place, [as some will say that in no reason it can] not onely in respect of the precedent adultery and mur- der betweene the parties: but also for that my L. was contracted, at least, to another Lady before, that yet liveth, whereof M. Kdward Diar and M. Edmond Tilncy both courtiers can bee witnesses, and consumated the same contract by generation of children. But this [as I said] must be left to bee tried hereafter by them which shall have most in- trest in the case. Onely for the present I must advertise you, that you may not take hold so exactly of all my L. doings in Wo- mens affaires, neither touching their marri- ages, neither yet their husbands. Leicester's Common-wealth, pp. 18,19,20,21.

Long after this, hee fell in love with the Lady Sheffield whom I signified before, and then also had hee the same fortune to have her Husband die quickly, with an ex- treame reume in his head [as it was given out;] but as other say, of an artificiall Ca- tarre that stopped his breath. The like good chance had hee in the death of my Lord of Essex1 [as I have said before] and that at a time most fortunate for his purpose: for when hee was comming home from Ire- land, with intent to revenge himselfe upon

The Lady Sheffield now Embassades- se in France.

Gentleman.

The suspiti- ous death of the Lord Sheffield.

1 Walter Devereux, father of Shake-speare.

1 88

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

The posoning of the Earle of Essex.

The shifting of a child in Dame Lcttice belly.

Gentleman.

n\y Lord of Leicester, * for begetting his wife with child in his absence [the child was a daughter and brought up by the Lady Shan- dotes, W. Knooles his wife:] my Lord of Ley hearing thereof, wanted not a friend or two to accompany the Deputie, as among other, a couple of the Earles owne servants, Cromp- ton [if I misse not his name] yeoman of his bottels, and Lloid his Secretary Entertained afterward by my Lord of Leycester. And so hee died in the way of an Extreame Flux, caused by an Italian Recipe, as all his friends are well assured: the maker whereof was a Surgion [as is believed] that then was newly come to my Lord from Italy. A cunning man. and sure in operation, with whom if the good Lady had beene sooner acquainted and used his helpe, shee should not have needed to have sitten so pensive at home and fearefull of her husbands former returne out of the same Countrey, but might have spared the yong child in her belly, which shee was enforced to make away [cruelly and unnaturally] for clearing the house a- gainst the good mans arrivall ....

I was recounting unto you others [said the Gentleman] made away by my Lord of Leycester with like art, and the next in or- der I thinke was Sir Nicolas Throgmarton, who was a man whom my Lord of Leycester used a great while [as all the World know-

1 Shake-speare's stepfather, the ghost in Hamlet.

The Origin of Hamlet.

189

eth] to over-thwart and crosse the doings of my Lord Treasurer then Sir Will. Cicill, ! a man specially misliked alwayes of Leicester, both in respect of his old Master the Duke of Somerset^ as also for that his great wise- dome, zeale and singular fidelity to the Realme, was like to hinder much this mans designements ....

Now for the second point, which I named, touching marriages and contracts with Women: you must not marvaile though his Lordship bee somewhat divers, variable and inconstant, with himselfe, for that ac- cording to his profit or his pleasure, and as his lust and liking shall vary [wherein by the judgement of all men, hee surpasseth, not only Sard ana palus and Nero, but even Hel- iogabalus himselfe:] so his Lordship also changeth Wives and Minions, by killing the one, denying the other, using the third for a time, and hee fawning upon the fourth. And for this cause hee hath his tearmes and pretences [I warrant you] of Contracts, Pre- contracts, Postcontracts, Protracts, and Re- tracts: as for example: after hee had killed his first wife, and so broken that contract, then forsooth would hee needs make him- selfe Husband to the Queenes Majesty, and so defeat all other Princes by vertue of his precontract. But after this, his lust com- pelling him to an other place, hee would

Sir Will Cy- cill now L. Treasurer.

Gentleman.

Leycester"1 s most variable dealing with Worn en in contracts and marriages.

Contracts.

Precon- tracts.

1 Polonious in Hamlet. Cp. note i, p. 177 and the conjectural, 1589 Dra- matis Personae of Hamlet.

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Postcon-

Retract.

Protract.

Leycester* s

two Testa- ments.

needs make a postcontract with the Lady Sheffield, and so hee did, begetting two chil- dren upon her, the one a boy called Robin Sheffield now living, Some time brought up at Newington, and the other a daughter, borne [as is knowen] at Dudley Castle. But yet after, his concupiscence changing againe [as it never stayeth] hee resolved to make a retract, of this postcontract, [though it were as surely done [as I have said] as Bed and Bible could make the same] and to make a certaine new, protract, [which is a continu- ation of using her for a time] with the Wid- ow1 of Essex: But yet to stop the mouths of out criars, and to bury the Synagogus with some honour, [for these two wives of Lcv- ccster, were merrily and wittily called his old and new Testaments, by a person of great excellency within the Realme] hee was con- tent to assigne to the former a thousand pounds in money with other petty consider- ations, [the pittifullest abused that ever was poore Lady] and so betake his limmes to the latter, which latter notwithstanding, hee so useth [as wee see] now confessing, now for- swearing, now dissembling the marriage: as hee will alwayes yet keepe a voyd place for a new surcontract with anv other, when oc- casion shall require.

Leycester s Common-wealth^

pp. 23, 27, 29, 30.

Lettice Knollys, mother of Shake-speare.

The Origin of Hamlet.

191

The intended Murder of Monsieur Simicrs by Sundry meanes.

His [Leicesters] treacheries towards the noble late Earle of Sussex in their many breaches, is notorious to all England. As also the bloudy practizes against divers oth- ers. But as among many, none were more odious and misliked of all men, than those against Monsieur Simiers a stranger and Ambassador: whom first hee practised to have poisoned [as hath beene touched be- fore] and when that devise tooke not place, then, hee appointed that Robin Tider his man] as after upon his ale bench hee confes- sed] should have slain him at the Black-friars at Greenwich as hee went fourth at the gar- den gate: but missing also of that purpose, for that hee found the Gentleman better pro- vided and guarded than hee expected, hee dealt with certaine Flusshiners and other Pirates to sinke him at Sea with the Eng- lish Gentlemen his favourers, that accompa- nied him at his returne into France. And though they missed of this practize also, [as not daring to set upon him for feare of some of her Majesties ships, who to breake off this designement attended by speciall com- mandement, to waft him over in safety] yet the foresaid^wg //.*•// Gentlemen, were holden foure houres in chace at their comming back: as M.. Rowley1 well knoweth being then pres- ent, and two of the Chacers named Clark and

1 Claudius, the King in Hamlet. Cp. the 1589 conjectural Dramatis Personae of Hamlet and Raleigh as Maivolio, pp. 124, 125, 153.

192

Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

The words of Sir Thomas Lay ton brother-in- law to my Lord.

The words of Mistresse Anne West sister unto this holy Countesse.

Harris confessed afterward the whole desig- nement.

Leycestcr s Common-wealth, pp. 37, 38.

The words also of Sir Thomas Layton, to Sir Henrv Nevile, walking upon the Tarresse at Windsor are knowne, wTho told him, after long discourse of their happy con- ceived Kingdome, that hee doubted not, but to see him one day, hold the same office in Windsor, of my Lord of Lev c ester, which now my Lord did hold of the Queene. Mean- ing thereby the goodly office of Constable- ship, with all Royalties and honours belong- ing to the same, which now the said Sir Henry exerciseth onely as Deputy to the Earle. Which was plainely to signifie, that, hee doubted not but to see my Lord of Ley - cester one day King, or els his other hope could never possibly take effect or come to passe. To the same point, tended the words of Mistresse Anne West Dame Lettice^vs- ter, unto the Lady Anne Askew in the great Chamber, upon a day when her Brother Robert Knowles had danced disgratiously and scornfully before the Queene in presence of the Frencli. Which thing for that her Ma- jesty tooke to proceed of will in him, as for dislike of the strangers in presence, and for the quarrell of his Sister Essex: it pleased her highnesse to check him for the same, with addition of a reproachfull word or two [full well deserved] as though done for dis-

The Origin of Hamlet.

193

pite of the forced absence, from that place of honour, ] of the good old Gentlewoman [I mitigate the words] his Sister. Which words, the other yonger twigge receiving in deepe dudgen, brake fourth in great cholor to her fore-named companion, and said, that shee nothing doubted; but that one day shee should see her Sister, ] upon whom the Queene railed now so much [for so it pleased her to tearme her Majesties sharp speech] to sit in her place and throne! being much worthier of the sam3, for her qualities and rare ver- tues, then was the other. Which undutifull speech, albeit, it were over heard and con- demned of divers that sat about them: yet none durst ever report the same to her Ma- jesty; as I have heard sundry Courtiers af- firme, in respect of the revenge which the re- porters should abide at my Lord of Ley c es- ters hand, when so ever the matter should come to light.

Leycester s Common-wealth > pp. 86, 87.

And surely it is a wonderfull matter to consider what a little check, or rather the bare imagination of a small overthwart, may worke in a proud and disdainefull stomack. The remembrance of his marriage missed, that hee

The causes of hatred in Lcyccstcr to- wards her Majesty.

"The Countess Lettice [mother of Hssex] was punished by the Queen's displeasure, which was so vehement that she was forbidden [during the Queen's life| to show herself at court, "l— Shakespeare, A Critical Study, Brandes, p. 66.

1 Cp. notes, p, 94,

194

Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

The force of female sug- gestions.

Gentleman.

The weake- ne sse of /.cisf. if her Majesty turne but her coun- tenance from him,

so much pretended and desired with her Ma- jesty doth stick deeply in his breast and stir- reth him dayly to revenge. As also doth the disdaine of certaine checkes and disgraces received at sometimes, especially that of his last marriage: which irketh him so much the more, by how much greater feare and dan- ger it brought him into, at that time, and did put his Widow in such open phrensie, as shee raged many moneths after against her Majesty, and is not cold yet: but remaineth as it were a sworne enemy, for that injury, and standeth like a friend or fury at the el- bow of her Ainadis, to stirre him forward when occasion shall serve. And what effect such female suggestions may* worke, when they find an humour proud and pliable to their purpose: you may remember by the example of the Duchesse of Somerset, who inforced her Husband to cut off the head, of his onely dear Brother, to his owne evident destruction for her contentation.

Leicester s Common-wealth, pp. 98, 99.

This man therefore, so contemptible by his ancestors, soodible of himselfe, so plung- ed, overwhelmed, and defamed in all vice, so envied in the Court, so detested in the coun- trey, and not trusted of his own and dear- est friends; nay [which I am privie to] so misliked and hated of his owne servants a- bout him, for his beastly life, nigardy, and Atheisme [being never seene yet, to say one

The Origin of Hamlet. 195

private prayer within his Chamber in his life] as they desire nothing in this world so much as his mine, and that they may be the first, to lav hands upon him for revenge. This man [I say] so broken both within and with- out, is it possible that Her Majesty, and her wise Councell should feare? I can never beleeve it; or if it be so, it is God's permis- sion without all cause, for punishment of our sinnes: for that this man, if hee once perceive indeed that they feare him, will handle them accordingly, and play the Beare indeed: Which inconvenience I hope they will have care to prevent, and so I leave it to God, and them; craving pardon of my Lord of Lcyccsterior my boldnesse, if I have beene too plaine with him. And so I pray you let us goe to supper, J for I see my ser- vant expecting yonder at the gallerie doore, to call us downe.

Leycester s Common-wealth y pp. 177, 178.

Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? At supper. At supper! where?

Not where he eats, but whare he is eaten. Hum-let, iv. 3.

196 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

THE LAST STRAW, 1587.

[ESSEX TO MR. EDWARD DIER.]

Mr. Dier, — I have been this morning at Winchester House to seek you; and I would have given a thousand pounds1 to have had one hour's speech with you; so much I would hearken to your counsel, and so greatly do I esteem your friendship. Things are fallen out very strangely against me, since my last being with you. Yesternight the Queen came to North Hall, where my Lady of Warwick would needs have my sister to be; which, though I knew not at the first, yet to prevent the worst, I made my Aunt Leighton signify so much unto the Queen before her coming from Theobalds, that, at her coming to North Hall, this matter might not seem strange unto her. She seemed to be well pleased and well contented with it, and promised to use her well.

Yesternight, after she was come, and knew my sister was in the house, she commanded my Lady of

1 Hamlet. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound. — Hamlet^ in. 2. Cp. note from Elze, p. in.

The Origin of Hamlet. 197

Warwick that my sister should keep her chamber; whereupon, being greatly troubled in myself, I watched when the Queen had supped, to have some speech with her, which I had at large, yet still she giving occasion thereof.

Her excuse was, first, she knew not of my sisters coming; and, besides, the jealousy that the world would conceive, that all her kindness to my sister was done for love of myself. Such bad excuses gave me a theme large enough, both for answer of them, and to tell her what the true causes were ; why she would offer this dis- grace both to me and to my sister, which was only to please that knave Ralegh, for whose sake I saw she would both grieve me and my love, and disgrace me in the eye of the world.

From thence she came to speak of Ralegh; and it seemed she could not well endure any thing to be spo- ken against him; and taking hold of one word, disdain, she said there was no such cause why I should disdain him. This speech did trouble me so much, that, as near as I could, I did describe unto her what he had been, and what he was; and then I did let her know whether I had cause to disdain his competition of love, or whether I could have comfort to give myself over to the service of a mistress that was in awe of such a man.

198 Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

I spake, what of grief and choler, as much against him as I could, and I think he, standing at the door, might very well hear the worst that I spoke of himself. In the end, I saw she was resolved to defend him and to cross me. From thence she came to s freak bitterly against ;;/r motJier, which, because I could not endure to see me and my house disgraced [the only matter which both her choler and the practise of mine enemies had to work upon] I told her, for my sister she should not any longer disquiet her; I would, though it were almost midnight, send her away that night; and for myself, I had no joy to be in any place, but loth to be near about her, when I knew my affection so much thrown down, and such a wretch1 as Ralegh highly es- teemed of her.

To this she made not answer, but turned her away to my Lady of Warwick. So at that late hour I sent my men away with my sister; and after, I came hither myself. This strange alteration is by Ralegh's means; and the Queen, that hath tried all other ways, now will see whether she can by these hard courses drive me to be friends with Ralegh, which rather shall drive vie to many other extremities.'1 If you come hither by twelve

1 Cp. use of the word in Hamlet, note i, p. 208.

2 Cp. note, p. 94, and "The Argument," p. 21.

The Origin of Hamlet. 199

of the clock, I would fain speak with you. My resolu- tion will let me take no longer time. I will be this night at Margate; and, if I can, I will ship myself for the Flushing, I will see Sluys lost or relieved, which cannot be yet, but is now ready to be done. If I re- turn, I will be welcomed home; if not, una bclla morire, is better than a disquiet life. This course may seem strange, but the extreme unkind dealing with me drives me to it. My friends will make the best of it; mine enemies cannot say it is unhonest; the danger is mine, and I am content to abide the worst. Whatsoever be- comes of me, God grant her to be ever most happy; and so in haste I commit you to God.

Your's assured, R. Essex.

The 21, July 1587.'

If you shew my letter to any body, let it be to my mother and Mr. Secretary.

Lives of the Earls of Essex, Vol. I. p. 186.

1 "This letter has not the date of the year, but, as we find him writing from Theobalds on the 3ist, July, 1587, to inform Leicester that the news of the fall of Sluys had just arrived, it is undoubtedly correctly placed." — find, Vol. I. p. 1 86.

2OO Shake-spectre England' s Ulysses,

De Shakespeare nostrati: — ;I remem- ber, the players have often- mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare, that in his writing [whatsoever he penned] he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, Would he had blotted a thousand. Which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this, but for their ig- norance, who chose that circumstance to commend their friend by, wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own candor: for I loved the man, and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much

as any His wit wras in his own

power, would tJte rule of it had been so too. — Discoveries, Ben /onson, 1641.

He Shakespeare nostrati : — Why Jon- son described Shakespeare as ' 'our fellow countryman" is not apparent, whoever Shakespeare was, he was an Englishman, and everybody must have known it. — 77ie Mystery of William Shakespeare, fudge Webb, p. 136.

The Origin of Hamlet. 201

THE REVENGE1 OF HAMLET.

"THAT PIECE -OF His WHICH MOST KINDLED ENGLISH HEARTS."

"Base thrall is he that is foul slander's slave: To pleasen all what wight may him behave? Yea, Jove's great son, though he were now alive, Mought find no way this labour to achieve. "a

From Peele" s Eclogue Gratulatory to £ssex, 1589.

He that shall say that Essex died not for treason is punisha- ble. — James /. °

CONJECTURAL DRAMATIS PERSONS, 1589.

CLAUDIUS, King- of Denmark . |

and of Fardell4 and "the darling . r SIR WALTER RALEIGH. of the English Cleopatra,"5 . . )

LrciANus, Nephew* to the kino-, , \

7 • TO j 11 r SIR (jrEo. CAREW.

a poisoner ana a Fardell, . )

HAMLET, Stepson ^/Leicester, the . . |

former King, "Blood is a beggar,"* . . . V ESSEX.

" Who would these Far dies* be are " — Hamlet, in. I. . )

POLOKIOUS, "rnMtlus , { WM> CE LoRD BuRLEIGH.

counsellor. — Hamlet, in. 4. . )

LAERTES, son to Polonious, . . SIR ROBERT CECIL.

GHOST of Hamlet's Stepfather, . . 1 T

/-TA-I -r-,1 T,-. f .LEICESTER.

1 he Player King, . . . )

GERTRUDE, Queen ^/Denmark,

wifS u of thf former King- and . < ELIZABETH.

mother to Hamlet,

The Player Queen, . .

I Cp. Lodge 1596, on Hamlet, p. 114, and "Vindicta! Revenge," p. 217. a Cp. note i, p. 186.

3 Quoted by Coke at Raleigh's trial in Winchester, Nov. I7th, 1603.

4 The Raleighs of Fardell. Cp. Life of Ralesfh, Kchuards, Vol. I. p. 2.

5 Ibid, Vol. I. p. 52.

6 Cp. Raleigh's letter to Carew, p. 209.

7 Cp. Cecil's letter to Carew, p. 128.

8 Cp. Nash on Hamlet, p. 208.

9 "Personal allusions were the sauceof every play," — Shakespeare's Poems, \Vyndham, p. XLIV.

10 A consensual or Scotch marriage. Cp. the J)e Quadra letter of 1559, p. 205.

II "Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother [Noble Storge] come, for England." — Hamlet, iv. 3.

Terror of darkness! O, thou king of flames! That with thy music-footed horse dost strike The clear light out of crystal on dark earth, And hurl'st instructive fire about the world, Wake, wake, the drowsy and enchanted night That sleeps with dead eyes in this heavy riddle; Or thou great prince of shades where never sun Sticks his far darted beams, whose eyes are made To shine in darkness, and see ever best Where sense is blindest: open now the heart Of thy abashed, oracle, that for fear Of some ill it includes, would fain lie hid, And rise thou with it in thy greater light.

Ambois* Chapman.

ULYSSES AND THE COURT OF ELIZABETH.

Truth is a good dog; but beware of barking too close to the heels of an error, lest you get your brains kicked out. — Table Talk, Coleridge.

When Shakespeare, Jonson, Fletcher, ruled the stage, They took so bold a freedom with the age, That there was scarce a knave or fool in town O/ tiny note* but had his portrait shown.

Sir Carr S

I work in weeds, when moon is in the wane,

Whilst all the swarm in sunshine taste the rose;

On black-fern, loe! I seek and suck my bane;

Whilst on the eglantine the rest repose,

Having too much, the}7 still repine for more, And cloy'd with sweetness, surfeit on their store. The Buzzing Bees' Complaint, Essex, 1598

1 "In defense of Satire;" quoted by the Earl of Rochester 1678, in an allusion to the Tenth Satire of the First Book of Horace.

2O4 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

FALSTAFF AS LORD COBHAM.

"THRASONICAL PUFF AND EMBLEM OF MOCK-VALOUR."

Shakespeare in both parts of Henry IV. originally named the chief of the princes associates after Sir John Oldcastle, a character in the old play. But Henry Brooke, Eighth Lord Cobham, who succeeded to the title early in 1597, and claimed descent from the his- torical Sir John Oldcastle, the Lollard leader, raised objection; and when the first part of the play was print- ed by the acting-company's authority in 1598 [Newly corrected in 1599] Shakespeare bestowed on Prince Hal's tun-bellied follower the new and deathless name of Falstaff.

A trustworthy edition of the second part of Henry IV. also appeared with Falstaff s name substituted for that of Oldcastle in 1600. There the epilogue expressly denied that FalstafT had any characteristic in common with the martyr Oldcastle.

"Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man." — A Life of William Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 169.

This Ulyssian disavowal made three years after the first publication shows the fight "still on" between the noble Lord Cobham and the Actor Shakspere ? for the ironical nature of the denial could not but thrust the poisoned arrow still deeper as will be seen by the reliques of Sir Henry Watton, Secretary to Essex.

"He, [Essex] never spoke ill of any one; only against Henry Lord Cobham he forswore all patience, calling him, even to the Queen, the sycophant per ex- cellentiam." —Lives of the Earls of Essex, Vol. II. p. 193.

Ulysses and The Court of Elizabeth. 205

HAMLET AS SHAKE-SPEARE.

"HE WOULD DO THE QUEEN GOOD AGAINST HER WILL."1

"I have learnt" says De Quadra, the Spanish Am- bassador, writing in 1559, according to Mr. Froude, "I have learnt also certain other things as to the terms on which the Queen and Lord Robert [Leicester] stand toward each other, which I could not have believed. " These terms are written in the next \^ear to the Duchess of Parma thus:— ;'The Lord Robert hath made himself master of the business of the state and the person of the Queen;" and again he says "this woman is likely to go to sleep in the palace and wake with her Lover in the Tower. "-—SJiakcspeare s Sonnets, Gerald Massey,

P- 575-

Player King- Leicester.

Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, And thirty dozen moons with borrow' d sheen About the world have times twelve thirties been, Since love our hearts and Hymen .did our hands Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

Hamlet, ITT. 2, 1589.*

' 'Sparks of indignation in the Queen, that were un- quenched even with his [Essex's | blood."' — Bircli s Eliz- abeth, Vol. II. p. 491.

First of all, you must consider with whom you have to deal, and what we be towards her; who, though she do descend very much in her sex as a woman, * yet we

1 Cp. note 2, p. 166.

2 Cp. Nash on Ifamlet, pp. 114, 208.

3 Cp. notes, p. 125.

* Cp, Essex's letter to the Queen, p. 212.

206 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

may not forget her place, and the nature of it, as our

Sovereign For though in the beginning when

her Majesty sought you [after her good manner] she did bear with rugged dealing of yours, until she had what she fancied, yet now after satiety and fullness, it will rather hurt than help you . . . But the best and soundest way in mine opinion is, to put on another mind, to commend such things as should be in her, as though they were in her indeed, for it is not good for any man straightly to weigh a general disallowance of her doings and the world followeth the sway of her inclination.— Edw.. Dyer to Sir Christopher I fatton, Oct. 9th, 1572. [Cp. Davisori s Poetical Rhapsody < Nicolas.'}

Then lived a galaxy of great men, and it is lamen- table that they should have degraded their mighty powers to such base designs and purposes, dissolving the rich pearls of their great faculties in a worthless acid, to be drunken by a harlot. What was seeking the fa- vor of the Queen, but the mere courtship of harlotry ? —Lectures on Shakspere and Milton, Coleridge, p. 66.

The purpose of playing is to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. — Hamlet, in. 2.

If, then, we should find that Shakspeare took these materials as they were presented to him, shall we not feel and acknowledge the purity and holiness of genius —a light, which, however it might shine on a dunghill, was as pure as the divine effluence which created all the beauty of nature? — Lectures on Shakespeare and t Milton, Coleridge, 1 8 1 1 , 1812,

Ulysses and TJie Court of, Elizabeth. 207

"He [Philotas-Essex] that is the glory of the greeks, Virtues upholder, Honors countenance."

Essex as Philotas, Daniel's Tragedy of Pliilotas, 1605.

"The Queen hath been troubled with a spice or show of the mother, but indeed not so. The fits that she hath had, hath not been above a quarter of an hour; but yet this little in her hath bred strange bruits here

at home. "-—Leicester to Court and Society

from Elizabeth to Anne, Vol. I. p. 248.

With the aforesaid person, [Leicester] and with divers others, she hath abused her bodie against God's lawes, to the disgrace of princely majestic, and the whole nations reproache, by unspeakable and incredible variety of luste, which modesty suffereth not to be re- membered, neyther were it to chaste eares to be uttered how shamfully she hath defiled and infamed her person and country, and made her court as a trappe, by this damnable and detestable art to intangle in sinne, and overthrowe the younger sorte of the nobilitye1 and gen- tleman of the lande; whereby she is become notorious to the worlde, and in other countryes a common fable for this her turpitude, which in so highe degre, namely in a woman and a queene, deserveth not onlie deposi- tion,3 but all vengeance, both of God and man, and cannot be tolerated without eternal infamie of our whole countrie, the whole worlde deriding our effeminate das- tardie, that have suffered such a creature almost thirty years together to raigne both over our bodies and soules, and to have the chief regiment of al our affaires, as wel

1 Cp. Kssex's letter to the Queen, p. 212.

2 Cp. the Philotag-Essex lines, p. 166, and sub-note i, p. 162.

208 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

spiritual! as temporal, to the extinguishinge not onely of religion, but of all chaste livinge and honesty. —Ad- monition to the people of England, Cardinal Allen, 1 588. [Cp. Lingard s History of England, Vol. VIII. p. 465.]

L eic ester's G/i ost :

0 Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow

1 made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch1 whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd Will sate itself in a celestial bed, And prey on garbage.1

Hamlet, i. 5.

"By God's Son I am no Queen; that man [Essex] is above me. "- — Elizabeth to Harrington.

"Yet English Seneca read by candle-light yields many good sentences, as "blood is a beggar," and so forth; and if you intreat him fair in a frosty morning, he will afford you whole Hamlets, I should say hand-

fuls, of tragical speeches Seneca let blood line

by line, and page by page, at length must die to our stage." — Trcjacc, (/reejis McnapJion, Thomas NasJi, 1589.

In Elizabethan England: "the young man of fash- ion began the day by riding to St. Paul's and promen- ading half-a-dozen times up and down its middle aisle

1 Sir Walter Raleigh. Cp. note i, p. IQS.

3 Exit Essex, enter the player Shakspere. . Cp. the "Argument" p. 21,

Ulysses and The Court of Elizabeth. 209

At dinner he discussed Drake's expedition to

Portugal At three he betook himself to the the- atre then to the bear garden then to the

barbers, in preparation for the Carouse of the evening at the 'Mitre,' the 'Falcon,' the 'Apollo,' the 'Boar's Head, ' the 'Devil' or [most famous of all] the 'Mer- maid,' where the literary club, the Syren, founded by none other than Sir Walter Raleigh himself, held its meetings .... The festive bowl circulated freely, even more so than in Denmark, which nevertheless passed for the topers paradise. " —Shakespeare, A Critical Study, Brandes, p. 177.

Hamlet. The King1 doth wake to night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering upspring3 reels; And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.

Hamlet, 1.4.

Cussen George : For my retrait from the Court3 it was uppon good cause to take order for my prize. If in Irlande they thincke that I am not worth the respec- tinge they shall mich deceave them sealvs, I am in place to be beleved not inferrior to any man, to plesure or displesure the greatest; and my oppinion is so re- ceved and beleved as I can anger the best of them. And therfore, if the Deputy be not as reddy to steed mee as I have bynn to defend hyme, — be it as is may. ... I take mysealfe farr his better by the honorable of-

1 Sir Walter Raleigh. Cp. note i, p. 213.

2 Pope substituted "upstart," this confirms the "plebeian time-server" of sub/< note i, p. 163.

3 Cp. Captain Allen's letter to Anthony Bacon, p. 215.

14

2io Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

fices I hold, as also by that nireness to her Majesty e which

still I injoy, and never more Farewell, noble

George, my chosen friend and kinsman, from whom nor tyme, nor fortune, nor adversety, shall ever sever mee.

—Letter, Ralegh to Sir George Carew, Dec. 27th, 1589.

—Life of Ralegh, Edivards, Vol. II. p. 41.

"There is this singular and admirable in the con- duct of Elizabeth that she made her pleasures subser- vient to her policy, and she maintained her affairs by what in general occasions the ruin of princes. So se- cret were her amours, that even to the present day their mysteries cannot be penetrated. Her lovers were her ministers, and her ministers were her lovers." —Curios- ities of Literature, Isaac Disrceli, Vol. I. p. 352.

This strange alteration is by Raleghs means; and the Queen, that hath tried all other ways, now will see whether she can by these hard courses drive me to be friends with Ralegh, which rather shall drive me to many other extremities . . . Whatsoever becomes of me, God grant her to be ever most happy.1 — Letter, Essex to Edward Dier, July 2ist, 1587.

Leicester 's Ghost:

Howsoever thou pursuest this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught? leave her to heaven And to those thorns that in her bosom lod^e, To prick and sting her.

Hamlet, i. 5.

Before his Lordship's going into Ireland ... it pleased him expressly and in a set manner to desire mine opinion and counsel. At which time I did not

1 Cp. note from Elze, p. in, and sub- note 2, p. 166,

Ulysses and The Court qfr Elizabeth. 211

only dissuade, but protest. against his going, telling him with as much vehemency and asseveration as I could, that absence in that kind would exulcerate the Queen's mind, whereby it would not be possible for him to carry himself so as to give her sufficient contentment ... I apprehended readily a particular I think be knoivn to very few, 1 and the which I do the rather relate unto your Lordship, because I hear it talked, that while my Lord was in Ireland I revealed some matter against him, I cannot tell what. ! — Bacons Apology Concerning Es- sex, 1 604.

"Well, the next news that I heard was, that my Lord was come over, and that he was committed to his chamber for leaving Ireland^ without the Queen's license ... I came to his Lordship, and talked with him private!}7 about a quarter of an hour, and he asked mine opinion of the course was taken with him .... I re- member my Lord was willing to hear me, but spake very few words, and shaked his head sometimes, as if he thought I was in the wrong ... I prepared a son- net directly tending and alluding to draw on her Majes- ty's reconcilement to my Lord . . . I feared not to allege to her, that this proceeding toward my Lord was a thing towards the people very implausible; and there- fore wished her Majesty, howsoever she did, yet to dis- charge herself of it, and to lay it upon others. " — Bacon s Apology Concerning Essex, 1604.

In 1584, 1585, 1587 and again in 1589, Ralegh had large and very profitable grants of license to export

1 Hamlet, a satire on the Court.

2 The exulceration existed before his "going into Ireland. " Cp. Judge Webb's note p. 167, and notes pp. 125-158.

3 Hamlet by the Player, a harmless work of art. Cp. the "Argument," p. 21.

212 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

woolen broad-cloths, on payment of a rent reserved to the Queen [p. 63]. In 1584, Ralegh obtained a still more important grant of what was termed the ' 'Farm of Wines;" that is, the power of granting licenses for their vent, and of regulating under certain restrictions their prices, throughout England [p. 63]. The first relaxation [Elizabeth's anger at Raleigh's marriage] grew out of the necessities of the royal Exchequer [p. 143]. Spoils had been wrenched from Spain such as hitherto were almost unexampled. Sir Walter Ralegh is the especial man [p. 151]. One of the largest and best-laden of the coveted "Indian carracks" the Madre de Dios, was taken [I59I-I594]1 by Ralegh's own ship, The Roebuck [pf 149]. The spoils of the "great car- rack" had for years a considerable effect on English com- merce, in more ways than one. The sale of certain pre- cious commodities was altogether prohibited, as regards the ordinary course of trade, in order to obtain an ad- vantageous market for the goods stored up from the Mad- re de Dios. — Life of Ralegh, Edwards, Vol. I. p. 158.

Elizabeth, The Player Queen.

The instances that second marriage move Are base respects of thrift, but none of love; A second time I kill my husband2 dead, When second husband3 kisses me in bed.

Hamlet, in. 2.

The imprisonment mentioned by Sir Walter's bi- ographer, in his life prefixed to his History of the World •[Third Edition, 1687], was for devirginating a maid of

1 Undoubtedly Hamlet was under constant revision up to 1601. Cp. note from Judge Webb, p. 150.

* Robin Dudley, Earl of Leicester. 3 Sir Walter Raleigh.

Ulysses and The Court of Elizabeth. 213

honour in 1595. But why for this one action he should lie under the imputation of a debauch, is the logic of none but the vulgar. — History of Maryland, Bozman, 1811, p. 366.

Queen. What shall I do?

Hamlet. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: Let the bloat king1 tempt you again to bed, Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse; And let him, for a pair of reechy2 kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out.

Hamlet, in. 4.

When I remember that your Maj. hath, by the intolerable wrong you have done both me and yourself, not only broken all laws of affection, but done against the honor of your sex, I think all places better than that where I am, and all dangers well undertaken, so I might retire myself from the memory of my false, in- constant, and beguiling pleasures. I am sorry to write thus much, for I cannot think your mind so dishonor- able but that you punish yourself for it, how little soever you care for me. But I desire whatsoever falls out, that your Maj. should be without excuse, you knowing yourself to be the cause, and all the world wondering at the effect. I was never proud, till your Maj. sought to make me too base. And now since my destiny is no better, my despair shall be as my love was, without re- pentance.— Letter, Essex to the Queen. — Lives of the Earls of Essex, Vol. I. p. 493.

1 Sir Walter Raleigh. Cp. note i, p. 209.

2 Cp. note i, p. 221.

214 S hake-spear e England's Ulysses,

To her first parliament Elizabeth expressed a wish that on her tomb might be inscribed the title of "the virgin queen." But the T£'cw/<7;/ wlio despises the safe guards must be content to forfeit the reputation of chas- tity But Dudley though the most favoured, was

not considered as her only lover; among his rivals were numbered Hatton, and Raleigh, and Oxford, and Blount, and Sirnier, and Anjou; and it was afterwards believed that her licentious habits survived, even when the fires of wantonness had been quenched by the chill of age.— LingarcFs History of England, Vol. VIII. p. 424.

Mary to Elizabeth.

Woe to you! when, in time to come, the world Shall draw the robe of honor from your deeds, With which thy arch-hypocrisy has veil'd The raging flames of lawless secret lust.

Mary Stuart, Schiller.

Leicester's Ghost:

Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, )

With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, — } * O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce! — won to his shameful lust The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen.

Hamlet^ 1. 5.

"Sir Walter Raleigh he is the hated man of the world, in court, city, and country." — Anthony Bagotto Richard Bagot, May 1587.— Lives of the Earls of Es- sex, Vol. I. p. 1 86.

1 Sir Walter Raleigh. Cp. the spoils from the Madre de Dios, p. 212.

Ulysses and The Court of Elizabeth. 21 <

•x ./ ^}

' 'My lord of Essex hath chased Mr. Raleigh from the court1 and confined him in Ireland. "-—Letter, dated Aug. 17, 1589, Captain Francis Allen to Anthony Bacon.

Quandra, bishop of Aquila, the Spanish ambassa- dor, in the beginning of 1561, informs the king, that according to common belief, the Queen ' 'lived with Dud- ley, " that in one of his audiences Elizabeth spoke to him respecting this report, and in proof of its improbability, showed him the situation of her apartment and bed chamber But in a short time she deprived her- self of this plea. Under the pretext that Dudley's apart- ment in a lower story of the palace was unwholesome, she removed him to another, contiguous to her own

chamber In September of the same year these

rumours derived additional credit from the change in the Queen's appearance. — History of England, Lin- gar d, Vol. VIII. p. 425.

In allusion to the current talk on the subject of the Dudley amour De Quadra also reports that the Queen said she "was afraid the Archduke Charles might take advantage of the scandal which could not fail to reach his ears on his- arrival in England, and should he not marry her [in consequence] her honour might suffer" should not innocence have remained proudly silent? Why should her Majesty have met scandal one half- way if she had not previously advanced the other half? — Shakespeare s Sonnets, Gerald Massey, p. 575.

1 By the play of Hamlet. Cp. Nash on Hamlet, 1589, pp. 114-208, also cp. Raleigh's letters to Carew, p. 209.

216 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery. Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. — Hamlet, in. 2.

"The Queen says he [Essex] hath played long enough upon her, and that she means to play awhile upon him." -—News of the day, Chamberlin, Aug. 3oth, 1598. — Lives of the Earls of Essex, Vol. I. p. 491.

Her breasts two crystal orbs of whitest white, Two little mounts from whence lifes comfort springs. Between those hillocks Cupid doth delight To sit and play, and in that valley sings: Looking love-babies in her wanton eyes, That all gross vapors thence doth chastesize.

Mother Nature describing her Phoenix1 to Jove, Love's Martyr? p. 12.

"And so most humbly embracing and admiring the memory of those celestial beauties, which with the people is denied me to review, I pray God your Maj- esty may be eternal in joys and happiness. Your Maj- esty's most humble slave."-— Letter, Raleigh to the Queen, 1602. — Life of Ralegh, Edivards, Vol. 1 1. p. 252.

Here shall you see how men disguise their ends, And plant bad courses under pleasing shows,3 How well presumptions broken ways defends,

1 Cp. Dr. Grosart's note, p. 84.

2 On the authorship of Love's Martyr. Cp. note i, p. 141.

3 For the political complexion of Shake-speare's historical plays, see records of The New Shakespeare Society, Vol. II., 1874.

Ulysses and The Court of- Elizabeth. 217

Which clear-ey'd judgement gravely doth disclose.

Tragedy of Philotus [Essex as Philotus] , Daniel, 1605.

But now behold,

In the quick forge and workinghouse of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens! The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort, Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth, and fetch their conquering Caesar in: As, by a lower but by loving likelihood, Where now the general of our gracious empress1 [As in good time he may] from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit To welcome him?

Henry V., Act V., Chorus.

"But if Shakespeare's colleagues, acting Shake- speare's Plays, gave umbrage to Essex's political oppon- ents in Henry IV., applauded his ambition in Henry V., and were accessories to his disloyalty in Richard II. , there were playwrights and players ready enough to back the winning side. " — Shakespeare s Poems, Geo. Wyndham, p. 33.

Comedy.

How some damn'd tyrant to obtain a crown*

Stabs, hangs, impoisons, smothers, cutteth throats:

And then a Chorus, too, comes howling in

And tells us of the worrying of a cat:

Then, too, a filthy whining ghost,

Lapt in some foul sheet, or a leather pilch,

Comes screaming like a pig half stick'd,

And cries, Vindicta! — Revenge, Revenge!

Induction, A Warning For Faire Women, 1599.

1 Essex, cp. lines on the dismantling of the Masque, p. 18.

2 Essex, cp. Ben Jonson's "Steep desire," p. 223.

218 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

' The induction to the Warning is notable also in that it containes what is apparently a fling at Shakspere's Richard III., Henry V., Macbeth and Hamlet. It may cause suprise that such open mockery of the method, if not of the very plays of Shakspere should have been allowed on his own stage." -The School of Shakspere, Richard Simpson, Vol. II. p. 216.

"Ben Jonson, in his Cynthia s Revels [1600], put forth two censorious allusions to Essex's conduct. In- deed the framework of this play, apart from its inciden- tal attacks on other authors, is a defense of 'Cynthia's' [the Queen's] severity. Says Cupid [i. i] :— - 'The hunt- ress and queen of these groves, Diana, in regard of some black and envioits slanders hourly breathed against her, * for divine justice on Actseon .... hath .... proclaim'd a solemn revels, which [her godhead put off] she will descend to grace. ' The play was acted before Elizabeth, and contains many allusions to the 'Presence.' After the masque, Cynthia thanks the masquers [v. 3] :—

'For j^ou are they, that not, as some have done, Do censure us, as too severe and sour, But as, more rightly, gracious to the good; Although we not deny, unto the proud, Or the profane, perhaps indeed austere: For so Actaeon, by presuming far, Did, to our grief, incur a fatal doom . . . Seems it no crime to enter sacred bowers And hallow'd places with impure aspect, Most lewdly to pollute? Let mortals learn To make religion of offending heaven, And not at all to censure powers divine.'

1 The play of Hamlet. Cp. Letter, Anthony Bacon to Essex, p. 152.

Ulysses and The Court of. Elizabeth. 219

In 1600, such lines can only have pointed to Essex- Actseon's mad intrusion into the presence of a Divine Virgin. In 1601 if, as some hold, these lines were a late addition, the reference to Essex's execution was still more explicit. "-—Shakespeare s Poems, Geo. Wynd- ham, p. xxxiv.

Further along in his notes [p. 258] speaking of Robert Chester's Love s Martyr, and the contributed poems by Shakespeare, Jonson, Chapman and Marston on the Phoenix and the Turtle, Mr. Wyndham says, "it is impossible to understand exactly what these poems are about." Now continuing with crusty Ben in his "Revels" it will be seen that our Phoenix subject is re- newed, and never was irony so deftly handled — that while apparently censuring Essex, Jonson2 has assumed3 the character of Horatio and is fooling the Queen to the ' ' top of her bent" that through the Queen he is carrying out Hamlet's dying request.

Hamlet. Horatio, what a wounded name,

Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,

Absent thee from felicity awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,

To tell my story.

With what art and dare-devil hardihood "Good Horatio" performed this task— considering his loathing and contempt for the Queen's character, witness:—

1 The Masque of Love s Labor' s Won.

2 Thy tytle's Asper, Criticus, Quintus, Horatius, Place us, Satt'romastix,i6o2.

3 Spenser was undoubtedly Horatio in the 1589 Hamlet. Cp. Hale's note, p.

83-

22O Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Elizabeth-Cynthia . . . Let it suffice That we take notice, and can take revenge Of these calumnious and lewd blasphemies} For we are no less Cynthia than we were, Nor is our power, but as ourself, the same: . . . Years are beneath the spheres, and time makes weak Things under heaven, not powers which govern heaven . . .

\_The dancers unmask.

How: let me view you. Ha! are we contemned?^

Is there so little awe of our disdain,

That any [under trust of their disguise^1

Should mix themselves with others of the court,

And, without forehead, boldly press so far,

As farther none? How apt is lenity

To be abused: severity to be loathed!

And yet how much more doth the seeming face

Of neighboring virtues, and their borrowed names,2

Add of lewd boldness to loose vanities:

Who would have thought that Philautia3 durst

Or have usurped noble Storge's name,4

Or with that theft have ventured on our eyes?

Who would have thought, that all of them should hope

So much of our connivance, as to come,

To grace themselves with titles not their own?*

Instead of medicines, have we maladies?

And such imposthumes as Phantaste is

Grow in our palace? We must lance these sores,

Or all will putrify.

Cynthia's Revels, v. 3, Ben Jonson, 1600, 1601.

1 Elizabeth as Gertrude in Hamlet.

8 Essex disguised as Shake-speare.

3 Character assumed by Essex in The Device of Self-Love. Cp. note i, p. 164, and sub-note i, p. 173.

* The Phoenix was Elizabeth's emblem, "about 1574 a medal was struck bearing on the obverse a portrait of Elizabeth, and on the reverse a phoenix in flames with cipher and crown." — Century Dictionary.

Ulysses and The Court of Elizabeth.

Player. But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen —

Hamlet. 'The mobled queen?

Polonius. That's Good; 'mobled queen' is good.

Player. Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames With bisson rheum; a clout about that head Where late the diadem stood; and for a robe, About her lank and all cfer-teemed loins, A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up.

Hamlet, n. 2.

221

"The Queen is cankered and her mind has become as crooked as her carcass.1 Thisjemark of Essex cost my lord his head; which his iusurrection had not cost him but for that speech. "- —Prerogative of Parliaments, Raleigh V Works. [Cp. Lives of the Earls of Essex, Vol. II. p. 131.]

Persian. What need have Alexander so to strive

By all these shows of form, to find this man Guilty of treason, when he doth contrive To have him so adjudged? Do what he can He must not be acquit, tho' he be clear, Th' offender, not the offence, is punished here. And what avails the fore-condemned2 to speak? However strong his cause his state is weak.

Grecian. Ah, but it satisfies the world, and we

Think that well done, which done by law we see.

Persian. And yet your law serves but your private ends.

Act v., Chorus, Tragedy of Philotus [Es- sex as Philotus], Samuel Daniel, 1605,

1 Cp. note 2, p. 213.

2 Cp. sub-notes, pp. 162 and 163.

Wen men grow fast

Honor'd and loved, there is a trick in state, Which jealous princes never fail to use, How to decline that growth, with fair pretext, And honorable colors of employment, Either by embassey, the war, or such, To shift them forth into another air, Where they ma}7 purge and lessen; so was he: And had his seconds there, sent by Tiberius, And his more subtle dam, to discontent him; To breed and cherish mutinies; detract His greatest actions; give audacious check To his commands; and work to put him out In open act of treason.

) i. i, Ben Jonson, 1603.

Lastly, I would inform you, that this book,1 [Sejanus] in all numbers, is not the same with 'that which was acted on the public stage; wherein a second pen had* good share: in place of which, I have chosen to put weaker, and, no doubt, less pleasing of mine own, than to defraud so happy a genius3 of his right by my loathed usurpation. — Introduction to Sejanus, 1603.

Shakespeare himself assisted Ben Jonson in his Sejanits, as it was originally written. — Richard Farmer.

1 Cp. note i, p. 30.

2 The man was dead.

3 Cp. Daniel's "genius of that time," p. 225.

THE MAN WAS DEAD.

Sacred is the fame of Poets. — Saml. Daniel.

. . . . Fame is all that a dead man can possess. — '-Demosthenes.

Any man who believes that William Shakspere of Stratford wrote "Hamlet" or "Lear" is a fool. — John Bright.

We must sing too! What subject shall we choose?

Or whose great Name in Poets Heaven use

Who at suggestion of a steep desire1

Cast himself from the spire Of all his happiness? But soft: I hear

Some vicious fool draw near, That cries we dream.

Ben Jonson in Love's Martyr, 1601, pp. 189, 192.

1 To save Love's Martyr from being "suppressed" or "called in," Jonson is here patronizing the Queen — his real meaning, I take it, was given forty years later in Discoveries. Cp. pp. 200, 201.

In Patriam rediit magnus Appollo Sit am.

Fame's full of lies

Envy doth aye true honor's deeds despise.

Peele's Eclogue to Essex, 1589. [Cp. p. 293].

I remember well, I said to the Queen, you have now Madam obtained victory over two things, which the greatest princes in the world cannot at their wills subdue; the one is over fame ,' the other is over a great mind. — Bacon's Apology Concerning Essex, 1604.

Rail not 'gainst Fortunes sacred deitie, In youth thy virtuous patience she hath tryed, From this base earth shee'l lift thee up on hie, Where in content's rich chariot thou shalt ride, And never with impatience to abide:

Fortune will glon7 in thy great renown, And on thy feather'd head will set a crown.

Mother Nature to The Phoenix? Love's Martyr ', p. 31.

1 This could be construed as the fame of Elizabeth as Gertrude in Hamlet, but I think it means the fame of Essex as Shake-speare.

2 Cp. Essex as the Phoenix in The Phoenix Masque of Love's Labor's Won, note i, p. 164.

THE MAN WAS DEAD.

Shake-speare, Dramatist, died of lese-majeste, Feb'y. 25th, 1601.

Queen Elizabeth, died Mar. 24th, 1603.

Shakspere, Player, died of a drunken frolic April 2srd, 1616.

And yet I grieve for that unfinished frame, Which thou dear muse didst vow to sacrifice Unto the bed of peace, and in the same Design our happiness to memorize, Must, as it is, remain, tho' as it is: It shall to after-times relate my zeal To Kings and unto right, to quietness, And to t)ic union of the commonwealth. But this may now seem a superfluous vow, We have this peace; and thou hast sung enough, And more than will be heard, and then as good As not to write, as not be understood, For know, great Prince, when you shall come to know, That 'tis not in the power of kings to raise A spirit for verse, that is not born thereto,' Nor are they born in every Prince's days: For late Eliza's reign gave birth to more, Than all the Kings of England did before. And it may be,'^ the genius of that time, Would leave to her the glory in that kind, And that the utmost powers of English rhyme, Should be within her peaceful reign confin'd. Dedication, Daniel's Philotas, [Essex as Philotas4], 1605.

In 1609 Troilus and Cressida was published with the announcement [in the preface] that the Shakespearian Plays were the property of certain grand possessors.— The Mystery of William Shakespeare, Judge Webb, p. 73.

1 Cp. sub-note i, p. 162.

2 The Player Shakspere; it is noteworthy that Daniel refers to Shakspere and Shake-speare in the same poem.

3 For all time to come.

* Cp. Daniel's letter to Devonshire, p. 161.

226 Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

My comb, a rift; my hive, a lease must be: So chang'd, the bees scarce took me for a bee. The Buzzing Bees Complaint^ Essex. 1598.

For shame, I say, give virtue honors due! I'll please the shepherd but by telling true; Palm mayst thou see and bays about his head, That a/1 his flock right forwardly hath led.

I'ecle's Eclogue Gratulatory to Essex, 1589.

We propose a person1 like our dove,

Graced with a Phoenix8 love: A bodie so harmoniously composed,

As if Nature disclosed All her best symetrie in that one feature-/

O, so divine a creature2 Who could be false to? chiefly when he know's

How only she3 bestowes The wealthy treasure of her love in him:

Making his fortunes swim In the full flood of her admir'd perfection?

What savage, brute affection, Would not be fearful to offend a Dame'"

Of this excelling frame?

Much more a noble and right generous Mind, [To virtuous moods inclined]

That knows the weight of guilt.4

Ben Jonson in Lome's Martyr, 1601.

She2 was to him1 th' analized world of pleasure, Her firmness clot lid him in rariely; Excess of all things, he joyd in her measure, Mourn'd when she mourn'd, and dieth when she dies. George Chapman in I, ore's Martyr. 1601

1 Essex, the honey-tongued Shake-speare.

~ The Phoenix Masque of Love's Labor's Won or The Knacted Will.

3 Mother Nature herself, a Dramatist. Cp. Spenser's lines frontispage 10.

* The man was dead,

TJie A fan Was Dead. 227

Such one lie was, of him we boldly say,

In whose rich soul all sovereign powers did suit,

In whom in peace the elements all lay

So mixt as none could sovereignty impute,

As all did govern yet all did obey:

His lively temper \vas so absolute,

That it seemed, when Heaven his model first began,

In him it showed perfection in a man!

Michael Dray ton, 1603.

It is noticeable that in a later edition of his poem [1619] Drayton has returned to his description, and retouched it into a still nearer likeness to that of Shake- speare. The last two lines are altered thus:—

As that it seemed when Nature him began, She meant to show all that might be in man.

Shakespeare's Sonnets, Gerald Massey, p. 573.

We have expressed the opinion that Shakespeare had nothing to do with the publication of the Sonnets in 1609. This is put beyond a doubt by the parenthe- ses at the end of Sonnet 126 in that edition. Shake- speare could not have inserted these parentheses, and Thorpe would not have done it if either he or his editor had been in communication with Shakespeare. In that case, one or the other of them would have asked him for the couplet; and he would either have supplied it or have explained that the poem was complete as it stood —Dr. Furnivall says he has no doubt that the insertion of the marks of parentheses "was the printers doings;" and Mr. Thomas Tyler expresses the same opinion; but it is extremely improbable that the printer would resort to this extraordinary typographical expedient [absolute- Iv unprecedented, so far as our observation goes] with-

228 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

out consulting the publisher, and Thorpe would not have consented to it if he could have avoided it. It is clear that printer or publisher, or both, considered that something was evidently wanting which could not be sup- plied and must be accounted for. The only two books, so far as we know, ever published by Shakespeare him- self were the Venus and Adonis [1593] and the Lucrccc [1594]. These have dedications of his own, and the care with which they arc printed indicates tJiat he super- vised their passage through the press. If he had had anything directly to do with bringing out the Sonnets in 1609, we may be sure that these poems in which he had so peculiarly personal an interest would have been dedicated by himself, and the printing would have been done under his own eye. He would not have allowed it to be done while he was absent from London but would have had it delayed //;//// his return. ! Some crit- ics have said that "the correction of the press by the author was unknown in Elizabethan times;" but this is a mistake. At the end of Beeton's Will of Wit [1599] we find this note: "What faults are escaped in the print- ing, find by discretion, and excuse the author, by other work that let [hindered] him from attendance to the press." The many bad errors in the 1609 edition of the Sonnets and the parentheses in 126 are indisputable evidence that there was no "attendance to the press" on the part of the author.2 — Shakespeare s Sonnets, W. J. Rolfe, p. 184.

Whose great name in poets Heaven use, Par the more countenance to our active muse f Ben Johnson in Lore's Martyr, 1601, p. 189.

1 "The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns." 8 "Thy adverse party is thy advocate." — Son. ay-xxxv.

The Man Was Dead. 229

Shine forth, thou star of poets; and with rage, Or influence, chide, or cheer, the drooping- stage. Ben Jonson, in First Folio, 1623.

But for two remarkable circumstances, Shakespear- ian criticism would never have exercised so many minds and rilled so many volumes. One is the fact noted by the editors of the Folio, that Shakespeare had not "the fate common with some to be exequtor to his owne writ- ing. " That the author of Othello and As You Like It should not have deemed those works worthy of the ed- itorial care bestowed on Venus and Adonis and Lucrece; that he used them simply as a means of making money, and when the purpose had been served, took no further heed of them ; that notwithstanding the publication and rapid sale of pirated and inaccurate copies, he was never moved, during the years of retirement at Stratford, to take even the initial step of collecting and revising for publication the manuscripts of his plays; and that, so far as their author was concerned, they might be stolen, travestied, or perish altogether; are surely among the strangest facts in the history of literature. — The Diary of Master William Silence, Madden, p. 319.

Horace — \Jonsen\ :

"All men af right their foes in what they may, Nature commands it, and men must obey." Observe with me: "The wolf his tooth doth use, The bull his horn. And who doth this infuse, But nature?" . . . But briefly, if to age I destined be, Or that quick death's black wings environ me; It rich or poor; at Rome; or fate command I shall be banished to some other land; What hue soever my whole state shall bear, I will write satires still, in spite of fear.

Eques: Virgil is now at hand, imperial Caesar.

230 Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

Caesar: Rome's honor1 is at hand then. Fetch a chair, And set it on our right hand; where 'tis fit Rome's honor,1 and our own should ever sit. Now is he come out of Campania, I doubt not he has finished all his Acne ids!" Which, like another soul, I long to enjoy. I Maecenas.'5 What think you three, of Virgil, gentlemen, - Gallus.4 That arc ot his profession. ( Tibullus.;>

Gallus: So chaste and tender is his ear,

In suffering any syllable to pass,

That he thinks may become the honored name1

Of issue* to his so examined self;

That all the lasting fruits of his full merit,

In his own poems, he doth still distaste;

As if his minds peace, which he strove2 to paint,

Could not \vith fleshly pencils have her right.

The Poetaster, v. i., Ben Jonson, 1601.

1 "Inevitably 'Liberal Honour' and 'Love's Lord' are accepted as his titles of right and it does not look like a mere coincidence that Churchyard names Essex 'Honor.' "

Sweet civil Lords, shall sawsy fellows meet, Who must ask grace, on knees at honors feet.

ChurchyarcT s Fortunate I<\u-eicell. Dr. CrosarC s introduction to Lore' s Mar-

O'>% PP- 35. 39-

O Honour's fire, that not the brackish sea Mought quench, nor foeman's fearful 'larums lay! So high those golden flakes done mount and climb That they exceed the reach of shepherds rhyme.

Peele' ' s J:ch>^in' to A.V.SVA, 1589.

2 The man was dead.

'•' Maecenas,1 Statesman and patron of literature. Intrusted with the admin- istration of Rome during the absence of Octavianus on an expedition against Pompeius, friend and patron of Horace and Virgil.

4 Callus, Poet, orator, general,2 and politician. He supported Octavius, com- manded a part of his army at the battle of Actium and pursued Antony to Kgvpt.

•° '/'ihullits, Elegiac poet patronized by Messala, whom he accompanied in a campaign to Aquitania.

6 Look how the fathers face

Lives in his issue, even so the race

Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines

In his well turned, and true filed lines.

Memorial I'crscs, Ben Jonson^ 1623.

1 Essex, the brightest Maecenas of that accomplished age.-- Royal amJ Xot>lt> Authors. Wat- Pole. Vol. I. p. 108.

2 The play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the General of our gracious Empress.— Hamlet and Henry I'. Cp. p. 18.

The Alan Was Dead. 231

Few people, whose eyes now glide as smoothly along' the text of Shakspeare as along the text of the Waverly Novels, are aware of the amount of labour which the luxury they are enjoying has involved. It would be no exaggeration to say that the text of Shak- speare has come down to us in a worse state than that of any other great author, either in our own or in any other language. That he himself prepared none of his plays for publication is certain;1 that any of them were printed from his autograph, or even from copies correc- ted by him, is, in spite of what Heminge and Condell have asserted, open to grave doubt. Of the thirty seven plays usually assigned to him, seventeen had at various times appeared in quarto, those quartos consisting of transcripts of stage copies surreptitiously obtained with- out the consent either of the author or of the manager. They have therefore no authority, but are depraved in different degrees by "the alterations and botchery of the Players1 by interpolations of all kinds and from all sources, and by printers blunders in every form they can assume, from the corruption or omission of single words to simple revelries of nonsense. 4 'Perhaps in the whole annals of English typography," says Hunter, ' 'there is no record of any book of any extent and rep- utation having been dismissed from the press with less care and attention than the first folio." Bad as most of the quartos are, ' the first folio is often worse. Words, the restoration of which is obvious, left unsupplied; un- familiar words transliterated into gibberish ; punctuation as it pleases chance; sentences with the subordinate

1 My comb, a rift; my hive, a lease must be; So chang'd, the bees scarce took me for a bee. The Kuzzhitf /lee's Complain/, Kssex, 1598.

232 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

clauses higgledy-piggledy or upside down; lines trans- posed; verse printed as prose, and prose as verse; speeches belonging to one character given to another; stage directions incorporated in the text; actor's names suddenly substituted for those of the dramatis persona; scenes and acts left unindicated or indicated wrongly- all this and more make the text of the first folio one of the most portentous specimens of typography and edi- ting in existence. — Essays and Studies, J. Churton Collins, p. 292.

Galileo [1609] was reading the open volume of the sky, but Shakespeare1 did not mention him. This to me is the most marvelous thing connected with this most marvelous man. — Shakespeare A Lecture, Robert (J. fn- o'crsoll, p. 1 6.

For such whose poems be they ne'er so rare, In private chambers that encloistered are, And by transcription daintily must go As tho' the world unworthy were to knowr Their rich composures, let those men who keep These wondrous relics in their judgement deep, And cry them up so, let such pieces be Spoke of by those that shall come after me. Poets and Poesy ) Michael Drayton [Certainly before 1609].

' 'All this is far too explicit to be general, and must have had a particular aim. The lines seem to reply to Meres. Here are the 'rare poems' for 'Sugred Sonnets, ' the 'private chambers' for 'private friends, ' the friends who keep the sonnets, for the friends among whom Shakespeare's Sonnets are, and the men who cry up these relics in their judgement deep! The critic Meres for example. "- — Shakespeare's Sonnets, Gerald Massey, P- 571-

1 The man was dead.

The Man Was Dead. 233

In the light of present evidence Mr. Massey is un- doubtedly correct in attributing to Drayton a ' 'particular aim" at the Sonnets of 1609, but in so doing he fails to note that the "dainty transcriptions" could not be in "private chambers" or ' 'encloistered" after their pub- lication, which gives to Drayton's composition a date prior to 1609, and that in the use of the word "relics" Drayton very plainly tells us that the author of the Son- nets was in "the undiscovered country" prior to their publication in 1609 which wipes out the stupid miracle that the most intellectual of men, willingly, } ' 'submitted to ascriptions by other hands, " "gave his writings to negligence" and "deserted the children of his brain."

Be your words made, good Sir, of Indian ware, That you allow me them by so small rate? Or do you curtled Spartanes imitate? Or do you mean my tender ears to spare That to my questions you so total are? When I demand of Phoenix,2 Stellas3 state, You say, forsooth, you left her well of late: O God, think you that satisfies my care? / would know whether she did sit or walk; How clothed; how waited-on; sigh'd she or smilde; Whereof, with whom, — how often, — did she talke; }Vit]i what pastimes Time' s journey she beguilde ; If her lips daign'd to sweeten my poor name; Say all; and, all well said, still say the same. A strophe! to Stella, Son. 92, Philip Sidney, before 1586.

Yet in this lovely swain [Essex], source of our glee, Must all his [Sidney's] virtues sweet reviven be. Peelers Eclogue Gratulatory to Essex, 1589.

1 Cp. note i, p. 231.

2 Cp. Essex as the Phoenix, note i, p. 164, notes, p. 220 and all of p. 238.

3 Cp. sub-note 2, p. 120.

234 Shake-spear e England' s Ulysses,

Rosalind. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? ]\ hat did he i^hen tlion sink's/ him/ \\~hat said he? How looked he? ll'/iercin went lie? \}')iat makes he here? Did he ask for me/ //7/cvr remains he? How parted he with thee? And w 'hen sJialt thou see him again/ Answer me in one word. — As You Like //, TIT. 2.

All his other works — the narrative poems and the early quartos — are said to be ' 'by William Shakespeare" which is the customary and prescriptive style of an au- thor who ventures on his own account. The quarto [of the Sonnets] as printed, abounds in typographical and other errors— which might easily have escaped the eyes of a proof-reader, but not those of the writer him- self. But while Shakespeare was the writer of the Son- nets he had nothing to do with their publication [in 1609]. The very form of the title-page, Shake-speares Sonnets, is proof positive of this.1 — A New Study of tJie Sonnets of Shakespeare, I\irk (iodwin, p. 16.

There is evidence absolutely incontrovertible, that the poet never saw the Sonnets through the press. There are from forty to fifty errors which could not have passed if they had been submitted to Shakspeare. And such is the nature of our poet's promises made to Southampton. So careful was he in correcting It is other poems > [1593, 1594] that we must conclude he would have superin- tended the publication, and not subjected his promises of immortality to all the ills of printers mortality, had he given his sanction to it as it comes to us.--77/r Secret

o

Drama of Shakespeare's Sonnets, Gerald Mass ey^ p. 172.

I cannot sufficiently set down what [in mv judge- ment, and by the relation of very just and wise men] I

1 The man was dead.

The Man Was De-ad. 235

have concieved of his secrets. But that I may speak somewhat of him according to true judgement and in- diflerencie: because peradventure, some have either malevolently, with exceeding bitterness abused his hon- orable ashes contumeliously ; and others percase which have as blindly in the contrary sanctified him as one more than a man, beyond his deserts and the measure of his nature; [both which are most odious to the true taste of all noble natures,] I say thus much: Which they that wisely did know him, will acknowledge also. His DI ind was incomprehensible, the loftiness of his wit was most quick, present, and incredible; in disembling with counterfeit friends, and in turning the mischiefes and fallacies of his enemies upon their own heads and in concealing any matter and business of importance, beyond expectation. — Four Books of Offices, Barnaby Barnes, 1606.

Exalted Shakespeare, with a boundless mind, Ranged far and wide, a genius unconfined; The passions swayed, and captive led the heart, Without the critic's rules or aid of art.

The Progress of Posey, 1731.

No comprehension has yet been able to draw the line of circumscription round this mighty mind so as to say to itself 4 'I have seen the whole. " —Coleridge, 1833.

Whoever the great dramatist was, we can form no adequate conception of his mind; but mankind will always delight to scrutinise something that indefenitely raises its conceptions of its own powers and possibilities, and will seek, though eternally in vain, to penetrate the secret of this prodigious intellect. — The Mystery of William Shakespeare, Judge Webb, 1902.

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238

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

York. My ashes, as the Phoenix,1 may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all.

Third Henry / 7. , 1.4.

From one of the original maps of Johann Bayer's I'ninowc- iria. 1603. In viewing the map of the original constellation I would remind the reader not to look for the dotted lines or the name; the most powerful telescope will not reveal them, but the sixteen stars are visible to the naked eye, not one has been lost. For the Peacock's companion picture, see p. 248.

1 Kssex was a lineal descendant of the Duke of York, and under the la\v could easily have been Elizabeth's successor. Cp. his argument, Second Henry 17..

IV. 2.

2 Cp. Essex's instructions to Henry Cuffe touching foreign parts, p. 241,

BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

"Mr. Henry Cuffe, the great confident and one of the secretaries of the Earl of Essex, had been sent with his lordships letters to England, and after landing us'd the utmost expedition to arrive with them at the court; but falling ill on the road was oblig'd on Friday night July 3oth, [ 1506] to send up his letters inclos'd in one of his own to Mr. Reynoldes— Good Mr. Reynoldes:

Amongst other things you shall recieve a discourse of our great action at Cadiz, penned very truly accord- ing to his lordships large instructions; by which, besides my own knowledge, he informed me of sundry partic- ulars of moment in the process thereof. And after I had penn'd it as plainly as I might, altering little or nothing of his own draught, I caused his lordship to per- use it once again, and to add Ext remain- Mannw, which he hath done, as you may perceive by the inter- lining. His lordship's purpose is, that it should with the soonest be set in print, both to stop all vagrant ru- mours, and to inform those, that are well affected, of the truth of the whole, yet so that in any case neither his lordship's name, nor mine, nor any other .... my

240 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

lord, be either openly named, used, or so insinuated, that any slender guess may be drawn, who was the pen- man. My opinion is, that the best course is presently to cause a fair transcript to be made, and so either by Mr. Temple, or some other less to be suspected [in which point I know Sir Anthony Ashley will most willingly lend you his helping hand] to cause it to be delivered to some good printer, in good characters and with diligence, to publish it. Which course if you do not dislike, consider, I pray you, whether this preface, which I have in this my greatest wearines and distemper scribbled in haste, be tolerable; and if not [as I easily believe] I would wish you to pen a better of the same argument, and prefix it, that the whole may seem a letter sent from Cadiz, and the title in the title page may be, A true relation of the action at Cadiz the 2ist of June under the Earl of Essex and the lord admiral, sent to a gentleman in court from one, that served there in good place. And withal confer with Mr Grevill, whether he can be contented to suffer the two first letters of his name to be used in the in- scription: which if he grant, he must be intreated not to take notice of the author, but to give out, that indeed he received it amongst other papers by the first messen- ger; but by the inscription, which may be D. T. or some other disguised name, [as you shall think good] could

Birds of a Feather. 241

not conjecture the writer, only communicating it with some of good intelligence, who were present, and assured him of the truth thereof, and not altogether misliking the form, was the earlier persuaded to suffer it to go abroad; by which means it hath fallen into the press. If he be unwilling, you may put R. B. which some no doubt will interpret to be Beale. But it skills not. . The original you are rather to keep, because my lord charged me to cause either you or Mons. Fontaine to turn either the whole or the sum of it into French, and to cause it to be sent to some good personages in those parts, l al- ways observing the courses before specified. And so with my hearty commendations in great haste I commit you to God. This weary Friday night late in the even- ing.

Your most assured H. Cuffe"

\_Birclis Elizabeth, Vol. II. p. 81.]

Note. Henry Cuffe was born about the year 1560, and educated at Trinity College in the university of Oxford, where he took the degree of bachelor of arts on the i3th of June 1580, and was chosen fellow of that college, but after- wards obliged to resign his fellowship on account of some words spoken by him to the discredit of the founder Sir Thomas Pope. However he was soon after in 1586 elected probationer fellow of Merton College, and in 1588 master fellow, and on the 2Oth of February that year took the degree of master of arts. He distinguished himself early by his genius and learning, as appears from several letters of his in elegant Latin to John Hotman, written from Oxford in 1592, and was eminent for his skill in the Greek language, of which he was made pro- fessor, and chosen proctor of the university April loth, 1594, but some time left an academical life to enter into the service of the Earl of Essex as his secretary, and continued in it 'till the violent measures, into which he led his patron, brought them both to destruction — Birch's Elizabeth, Vol. II. p. 82.

1 Cp. the emblems prepared by Johann Bayer of Augsbury, pp. 238, 248,

16

CHRONOLOGY OF THE PLAYS.

Murder,1 though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. — Hamlet, TI. 2.

. . . The Accounts of the Revels at Court, between the years 1588 and 1604, the most interesting period in the career of Shakspere, have not been discovered /;/ the depositories for such papers. — \l\irks of Shakspere^ Charles Knight, p. 726.

The efforts made by the greatest genius of the age [Bacon]2 to blacken his [Essex's] memory proved en- tirely unavailing. Those most concerned" in his death became objects of indignation and aversion. The Queen lost her popularity, and passed the rest of her life in mis- ery.— Cooper's Athence Cantabrigenses^ Vol. II. p. 299.

Various attempts have been made to arrange the plays of Shakspere, each according to its priority in time, by proofs derived from external documents. How unsuccessful these have been might easily be shown, not only from the widely different results arrived at by men, all deeply versed in the black-letter books, old plays, pamphlets, manuscript records and catalogues of that age, but also from the fallacious and unsatisfactory nat- ure of the facts and assumptions on which the evidence rests. ... In such an age, and under such circum- stances, can an allusion or reference to any drama or poem in the publication of a contemporary be received as conclusive evidence, that such drama or poem had at that time been published? Or, further, can the pri-

1 Cp. all of p. 221.

2 Cp. Mr. Swinburne on the revision of Hamlet, p. 150, and notes, p. 151.

Chronology of The Plays. 243

ority of publication itself prove anything in favor of ac- tually prior composition? — Lectures On Shakspere, Col- eridge, pp. 243, 245.

The exact order of the composition of the plays is entirely unknown, and the attempts which have been made to arrange it into periods, much more to rank play after play in regular sequence, are obvious failures, and are discredited not merely by the inadequate means- such as counting syllables and attempting to classify the cadence of lines — resorted to in order to effect them, but by the hopeless discrepancy between the results of different investigators and of the same investigator at different times. — History of English Literature, Saints- bury, p. 164.

In the deep nook, where once

Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex'd Bermoothes.

The Tempest, i. 2.

' 'The Tempest" was probably the latest drama that Shakespeare completed. In the summer of 1609 a fleet bound for Virginia, under the command of Sir George Somers, was overtaken by a storm off the West Indies, and the admiral's ship, the ' 'Sea- Venture, " was driven on the coast of the hitherto unknown1 Bermuda Isles. — Life of Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 252.

A description of the [Bermuda] islands by Henry May, who was shipwrecked on them in 1593, is given in Hakluyt, 1600, iii. pp. 573, 574. — Eighteenth Century Essays on Shakespeare, Nichol Smith, p. 314.

Bermuda. — Group of 360 coral islands in Atlantic. . . . . Discovered by Juan Bermudez about 1522.— Pocket Atlas, Rand, McNally & Co,

1 Cp. 11. 9, 10, Son. 74-xcm. p. 99.

ESSEX CLAIMS THE AUTHORSHIP.

Vouchsafe, dread Sovereign, to know there 1m s a man, though dead to the world, l that doth more true honor to your thrice blessed day,2 than all those that appear in vour sight. — Letter, Essex to the Oitt't'ti. An- niversary of her Accession, Nov. 17, 1600. — Li :t~s of the Earls of Esst.\\ Vol. II. p. 128.

Muses3 no more but Mazes4 be yor nanu-s Where discord sound shall marre your concorde s\v< Unkyndly now yor carefull fancye frames When fortune treades yor fauvors under fet But foule befalle that cursed Cuckoes5 throt*' That soe hath crost sweet Philomelaes7 note.

And all unhappie hatched was that bird That parret-like can never cease to prate: I ° But most untymely spoken was that word That brought the world in such a woefull state, That Love and Likeing quite are overthrown*.- And in their place are hate and sorrowi-s grownt -.

Is this the honoure of a haughtie thought

Ffor Lover's hap to have all spight of Li

Hath wreached skill thus blinded Reason taught?

In this conceipt such discontent to moove? That Beautee so is of her selfe berefu That no good hope of ought good hap, i-

1 "Seneca let blood line by line, and page by page, at length must die to our stagf." Cp. .YiisA on Hamlet, p. 209.

2 The genius of that time

Would leave to her [Elizabeth] the glory in that kind, And that the utmost powers of English rhyme Should be zcithfn her peaceful reign confined

Samuel DatticL 1605, [cp. p. - 5 The speaking characters of the Sonnets of 1609. 4 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth. * The player Shakspere, a creature of the Crown ' ' 'Odysseus aimed an arrow and hit him in the throat. — 7 > 1 Essex, the Nightingale or the honey-tongued Shake-s; 8 The play of Hamlet a satire on the Court

244

Essex Claims the Authorship. 245

Oh let no Phoenix looke upon a Crowe1 Nor daintye hills2 bow downe to dirtye dales:8 Let never Heaven an hellish humour knowe, Nor firme affect give eare to foolish tales: Ffor this in fyne will fall to be the troth That puddle matter4 makes unwholesome broth.

Woe to the world the sonne is in a cloude And darksome mists doth overrunne the day: In hope, Conceipte is not content allow'd, Favour must dye and Fancye weare awaye:

Oh Heavens what Hell ! The bands of Love are broken \ Nor must a thought of such a thing be spoken. f 5

Mars must become a coward in his mynde • Whiles Vulcan standes to prate of Venus toyes: Beautie must seeme to go against her kinde4 In crossing Nature in her sweetest jo3res.() But ah no more, it is to much to thinke So pure a mouth should puddle-watters4 drinke.

But since the world is at this woefull passe Let Love's submission Honour's* wrath apease: Let not an Horse be matched with an Asse8 Nor hatefull tongue an happie hart disease.

So shall the world commend a sweet conceipte,9 And humble Fayth on heavenly honour waite.

Poems of Essex.

[From Harleian MS. 6910, Fol. 151, signed "Finis Comes Essex." Thence printed in " Exc. Tudor," Vol. I. p. 33.]

This poem in MS. has no title, the late Dr. Gro- sart who edited the Poems of Essex, Miscellanies of the Fuller Worthies Library, Vol. IV. p. 82, in giving the name "A Loyal Appeal in Courtesy " says i(I have given a heading to the poem indicative of the probable cir- cumstance out of which it sprang."

1 Cp. Act V. Scene 3, p. 160. 2 The Sonnets in dramatic form.

3 A personal or "Dark Lady interpretation of the Sonnets.

* The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Creta'n labyrinth.

5 The play of Hamlet, a satire on the Court.

0 Mother Nature herself a dramatist. Cp. Spenser's lines, p. 10.

7 Cp. Essex as Virgil in the Poetaster, pp. 229, 230.

8 The player Shakspere, a Creature of the Crown.

9 The Phoenix Masque of Love's Labor's Won or The Enacted Will.

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248

Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

As when

The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,1

Her ashes2 new create another heir

[When heaven shall call her. from this cloud of darkness*] . . . Who .... shall star-like rise4 .... And so stand fix'd.3

Henry VIIL, v. 4.

She2 was to him th' analisde world of pleasure, Her Jinn nesse clot lid him in rarietic; Excesse of all things, he joyd in her measure, Mourn'd when she mourn'd, and dieth when she dies. In Allusion to the Pha-nix* Geo. Chapman in Lore's Martyr, p. 188,

1 The Sonnets of 1609, a Dismantled Masque.

2 The Phoenix Masque of Love's Labor's Won or The Enacted Will.

3 Not applicable to a monarch.

* Cp. the Acrostic at the termination of the Dramatis Personae, p. 24. 5 Cp. note i, p. 247.

THE PHOENIX ANALYZED

— OR—

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES A STAR-LIKE RISING.

Loord Shakespeare lyes whom none but death could shake, And here shall ly till judgement all awake, When the last trumpet doth unclose his eyes The wittiest poet in the world shall rise.

Anonymous.

77ft: Phoenix Analysed. Now, after all, let no man

Receive it for a fable,

If a bird so amiable Do turn into a woman.3

Or, by our Turtle's4 Augurie That Natures fairest creature,5 Prove of his mistress feature

But a bare type and figure.3

Ben Jonson in Love's Martyr, 1601.

1 On a fly-leaf of a copy of the 1623 Folio, owned by the Messrs. Christie in 1888.

2 The Sonnets of 1609, a Dismantled Masque.

3 Cp. notes on "Valerius Terminus of the Interpretation of [Mother] Xa/itre," pp. 89 and 91.

4 England's Wooden Horse, or the Dramatis Personte of the Masque.

5 Mother Nature herself a dramatist. Cp. Spenser's lines frontispage 10.

249

250 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

PHYSICS NOBLE SCIENCE.

Ere we pass lie show some excellence Of other herbs in physics noble science.

Mother Nature in Lore" s Martyr, p. 92.

The mounting Phoenix, chast desire, ( This vertue fram'd, to conquer vice, J * This not-seene Nimph, this heatlesse fire, This chast found bird, of noble price,

Was nam'de Avisa by decree,

That name and nature might agree.

Henry Willob.ie* in Will obi is Art's a, p. 152.

Branches he bore of that enchanted stem, Laden with flower and fruit, whereof he gave To each, but whose did receive .... And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores; and if his fellow spake, His voice was thin, as voices from the grave; And deep asleep he seem'd yet all awake, And music in his ears his beating heart did make. Adventures of Ulysses, after Tennyson.

Her breasts two crystal orbs of whitest white,3 Two little mounts from whence lifes comfort springs. Betweene those hillocks Cupid doth delight To sit and play, and in that valley sings: Looking love-babies in her wanton eyes, That all gross vapors thence doth chastesize.

Robert Chester* in Love's Martyr, p. 12.

Whoever tasted once of that sweet food, Wished not to see his native country more, Nor give his friends the knowledge of his fate. And then my messengers desired to dwell Among the Lotus-eaters, and to feed Upon the lotus, never to return.4

Adventures of Ulysses, Homer. [Bryant's tr.]

1 The Masque of Love's Labor's Won. Cp. sub-note 2, p. 37.

2 For the identity of this hitherto unknown and never-again-heard-of poet, see pen names of Essex, frontispiece.

3 Cp. Ben Jonson's lines on the Phosnix, p. 255.

* Cp. notes from Messrs. Gollancz and Lee, pp. 48, 49.

The Phoenix Analyzed. 251

"A WORK THAT HATH GREAT GLORY WON."

Thomas Churchyard's lines on a dismantled Play that pleased not the million but was caviare to the General of our gracious Empress.

"Verses of value, if vertue bee scene, Made of a Phenix, a King, and a Queene."

Till that at large, our royall Phenix comes,1

Packe hence poore men, or picke your fingers endes,

Or blow your nailes, or gnaw and bite your thombs,

Till God above, some better fortune sends.

Who here abides, till this bad world emends,

May doe full well, as tides doe ebbe and flow,

So fortune turnes, and haps doe come and goe.

God send some helpe, to solve sick poore mens sores,]

A boxe of baulme, would heale our woundes up quite: I

That precious oyle, would eat out rotten cores,

And give great health, and man his whole delighte. J

God send some sunne, in frostie morning white,

That cakes of ice may melt by gentle thaw,

And at well-head wee may some water drawe.

Ther needes no Poets pen, nor painters pencel, come in place, Nor flatring frase of men, whose filed spech gives ech thing grace, To praise this worthy dame, a Nimph which Dian holds full deer3 That in such perfect frame, as mirror bright and christal cleer Is set out to our view, threefold as faire as shining Sunne, For beauty grace and hue, a workc that hath great glory won, A Goddes dropt from sk}", for causes wore than men may know, To please both minde and eie for those that dwels on earth below, And shew what heavenly grace, and noble secret power divine Is scene in Princely face, that kind hath formed and framd so fine** For this is all I write, of sacred Phenix1 ten times blest, To shew mine own delite, as fancies humor thinketh best."

Churchyard's Challenge,* 1593-

[For the context cp. Dr. Grosarfs Introduction to Love's Martyr, pp. xxix., xxx., xxxi.]

1 The Phoenix Masque of Love's Labor's Won or The Enacted Will.

2 Cp. sub-note 2, p. 37

3 Cp. Ben Jonson's lines, p. 255.

* Cp. note i, p. 230, and Spenser's "base born men," p. 10. 5 Cp. Penelope's Challenge, p. 19.

252

Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

ORIGIN OF THE "SWEET CONCEIT.

So shall the world commend a sweet conceipte, And humble faith on heavenly honor waite.

Poems of Essex. [Cp. the context, p. 245.]

Athene. Father, whose oath in hollow hell is heard; Whose act is lightning after thunder-word; A boon! a boon! that I compassion find For one, the most unhappy of mankind.

How is he named?

Zeus.

Athene.

Zeus..

Athene.

Ulysses, he who planned To take the towered city of Troy-land;1 A mighty spearsman,2 and a seaman wise, A hunter, and at need a lord of lies ....

What wouldst thou.

This! that he at last may view The smoke of his own fire upcurling blue. Ulysses, A Drama, Stephen Phillips, 1902.

1 Spiritually, the Sonnets of 1609 are the Citadel of Troy. The Dramatis Personae of the Sonnets being the Wooden Horse containing the name of Ulyss- es-Essex.

2 Cp. sub-note i, p. 113.

The Phoenix Analyzed. 253

LINES OF THE MASQUE.

The evolution of all things is explained by the play of three forces, Necessity, Love and Hatred. — Emped- ocles.

I ntellectnal= Rarity-Wonder-Knowledge-Wisdom-Truth.1 Mora/= Love-Reason-Grace-Beauty-Art.1 AV/Asv/tf/— Desire-Envy-Hope-Ambition-Folly . L

By what extraordinary instinct did he divine the remote conclusions, the deepest insights of physiology and psychology? — History of English Literature, Taine.

Fair, kind, and true' is all my argument, 'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes 4n one, which wondrous scope affords. 'Fair, kind, and true,' have often liv'd alone, Which three, till now, never kept seat in one.

[Cp. Sonnet 8-cv. p. 33.]

Shakespeare was too good a philosopher to exhibit all paths as leading alike to bliss; but he shows how of the two [?] kinds of love which he sings, one [?] toils steadily upwards in spite of occasional lapses, the other rapidly descends in spite of occasional halts. — Philosophy of Shakespeare's Sonnets, Richard Simpson.

1 Cp. the framework of the Dramatis Personae of the Masque, p. 24.

254 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

THE PYTHAGOREAN TRANSMIGRATION.1

O 'twas a moving EpicidiumP

Can fire? can Time? can blackest Fate consume

So rare creation? No; 'tis thwart to sence,

Corruption quakes to touch such excellence,

Nature exclaimes for Justice, Justice Fate,

Ought into nought can never remigrate.

Then looke; for see what glorious issue [brighter

Then clearest fire, and beyond faith farre whiter

Then Dians tier] now springs from yonder flame?

Let me stand numb'd with wonder, never came So strong amazement on astonish'd eie As this, this measureless pure Raritie.

Lo now; th' extracture of devinest Essence, The Soule of heavens labour 'd Quintessence, \_Peans to PJia>bus\ from deare Lovers death, Takes sweete creation and all blessing breath.

What strangenesse is't that from the Turtles ashes Assumes such forme? [whose splendor clearer flashes, Then mounted Delius\ tell me genuine Muse.

Now yeeld your aides, you spirites that infuse* A sacred rapture, light my weaker eie: Raise my invention on swift Phantasie, That whilst of this same Metaphisicall God, Man, nor Woman, but elix'd of all My labouring thoughts, with strained ardor sing, My Muse may mount with an uncommon wing. /// Allusion to the Pha>nix< John Marston in Lore's Mart\i\ p. 185.

1 There never was a greater Genius in the World than Virgil.1 He was one who seems to have been born for this glorious end, that the Roman Muse might exert in him the utmost force of her Poetry . . . .Could the greatest Genius that ever was infus'd intD earthly mold by Heaven, if it had been unguided and un- assisted by Art, have taught him to make that noble and wonderfull Use of the Pythagorean Transmigration, which he makes in the Sixth Book of his Poem? — On the Genius ami M'rithiffs of Shakespeare, John Dennis, 1711.

2 Cp. note i, p. no.

:i The poem of The Win-nix and Turtle Dove, the Dramatis Personse of the Masque.

1 Epistle, dedicatory to the l^rl Marshal \ Essex! -'To the Understancler', Shield of \chillts Chapmans deepest concern is lest he should be thought a malicious detractor of so admired a poet as Virgil. A -MiakespearSs Poems. U'yndhani, p. Lxv.

1 Cp. Essex as Virgil in the Poetaster, p. 230.

The Phoenix Analyzed. 255

ALL IS MIND.1

Nor all the ladies of the Thespian Lake, Though they were crushed into one form, could make A beauty of that merit, that should take Our muse up by commission: No, we bring Our own true fire; Now our thought takes wing, And now an Epode to deep ears we sing. /// Allusion to the PJia'nix, Ben Jonson in Love's Martyr, p. 190.

Phoenix- — A bird of great beauty, existing single, after living five hundred years it builds for itself a funeral pile of spices and aromatic gums, and is fabled to be consumed by fire by its own act, and from its ashes to rise again to its "sun bright seats;" hence an emblem of truth, of immortality, and of the resurrection. — Passim.

Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers* — if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me — with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, A get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? — Hamlet, TIT. 2.

( The Sonnets of 1609 a Dismantled Shake-speare s Phoenix= -> ,_

( Masque.

( The poem of The Phoenix and Turtle Dove [containing the

, name of Ulysses-Essex and the Shake-speare s 1 urtle Dove= -,

twentv-two executors 01 the [England s Wooden Horse]

Will], the Dramatis Personae of [the Masque.

1 All is mind,

As far from spot, as possible defining.

John Mar si on in Loi'e' s Martyr, p. 188.

a The twenty-two characters of the Phoenix Masque are muses or gods. 3 Cp. Mr. Massey's lines, on note i, p. 73.

256 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

With the Egyptians, "there is also another bird called the Phoenix . . . They say that he comes from Arabia and seldom makes its appearance amongst them, only once in five hundred years, as the Heliopolitans affirm: They say that it comes on the death of its sire . . . and brings the body of his fat her to tJic t CHI file of the sun."1 —Herodotus, 70-73.

There is one bird which renews and reproduces itself. The Assyrians call it the Phoenix. This bird when it has completed the five ages of its life, constructs for itself a nest on the top of a quivering palm. As soon as it has strewed. in this cassia and ears of sweet spike- nard and bruised cinamon with yellow myrrh, it lays itself down, and finishes its life in the midst of odors. They say that thence, from the body of its parent, is produced a little Phoenix, which is destined to live as many years. \\lien time has given it strength, and it is able to bear the weight, it lightens the brandies of the lofty tree of the burden of the nest, and dutifully carries both its own cradle and the sefiulcher of its fiarent, ] and lays it down before the sacred, doors in the temple of Hyperion. — Mctaniorfihoscs of Ovid? B. XV. 389-414.

Arabian Phoenix, a mythical bird of which only one specimen could be alive at a time. After living 500 years it erected for itself a funeral pyre, which the sun ignited, and out of the ashes of the former bird sprang a new one. The Phoenix was supposed to inhabit the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, called Razin, on the site of the Garden of Eden. — Old I^ortunatus [Oliphant Smea- ton, Ed.], p. 140.

1 The Sonnets of 1609, a Dismantled Masque —"only by dying, horn the very same." Cp. Drayton's lines, p. 246.

* No student of Shakespeare needs reminding that all his early, and even his later works are full of reminiscences of Ovid. In the extent of his indebtedness to Ovid, he stands alone among Elizabethan poets.- .SV//<//V.v in Shakespeare, /. Oiurton Collins, p. 116.

The Phoenix Analyzed. 257

THE PHOENIX1 AND TURTLE DOVE.3

[WILLIAM SHAKE-SPEARE'S WILL.]

From the additional poems to Robert Chester's Love's Mar- tyr, or Rosalinds Complaint* 1601.

W

A

Let the bird of lowdest lay,

On the sole Arabian tree,

Herauld sad and trumpet be:

To whose sound chaste wings obay. |

With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st, Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

Here the Antheme doth commence, Love and Constancie is dead, Pha'ni^ and the Turtle'1 fled, In a mutuall flame from hence.

But thou shriking harbinger,

IFoule precurrer of the fiend, T

Augour of the fevers end, To this troupe come thou not neere. J

From this Session interdict

LEven^ foule of tyrant wing, Save the Eagle, feath'red King, *-*

Keepe the obsequie so strict.

Let the Priest in Surples white, 1 That defunctive Musicke can,

f~* Be the death-devining Swan, -•— J

Lest the Requiem lacke his right, j

And thou treble dated Crow,

I That thy sable gender mak'st, T

With tVm hr^ath tVinii criv'ct pnrl tak'^t. -i-

1 The Sonnets of 1609, a Dismantled Masque.

~ England's Wooden Horse or the Dramatis Personae of the Masque. 3 Over a buried play, "One none-like Lily in Uie earth I placed." — Mother \ttlurt' to /()(><' in Lo~i'c~ s Martyr, p. 10.

* For the probably correct solving of the five riddles cp. pp. 260 to 264.

17

258 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

So they loved as love in twaine,

MHad the essence but in one, IVT

Two distincts, Division none, Number there in love was slaine.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;

S Distance and no space was scene, O

Twixt this Turtle and his (Jueene; ^

But in them it were a wonder.

So betweene them Love did shine,

T T That the Turtle1 saw his right, T T

Flaming in the Phanix* sight; Either was the others mine.

Propertie was thus appalled,

A That the selfe was not the same: A

Sinle Natures double name ±JL

K

Single Natures double name, Neither two nor one was called.

Reason in itselfe confounded, Saw Division grow together, To themselves yet either neither, Simple were so well compounded.

That it cried, how true a twaine, Seemeth this concordant one, Love hath Reason, Reason none, If what parts, can so remaine.

Whereupon it made this Thrcnc. To the Pha>nix* and the Dorc? Co-supremes and starres of Love, As Chorus to their Tragique Scene.

1 Allegory for the Dramatis Personae of the Masque.

2 The Sonnets of 1609, a dismantled Masque.

The PJioenix Analyzed. 259

THRENOS.

Beautie,1 Truth,1 and Raritie,1

Grace1 in all simplicitie, H

Here enclosed, in cinders lie.

Death is now the Phanix nest, And the Turtles loyall brest, To eternitie doth rest.

. Leaving no posteritie,

/\ Twas not their infirmitie, H

It was married Chastitie.

-_ Truth may seeme, but cannot be, ' *-N2

j^ Beautie bragge, but tis not she, r

Truth1 and Beautie1 buried be.

_ To this urne let those repaire, _ 3

|H That are either true or faire, p^

For these dead Birds, sigh a prayer.

Wtll

am

1 Characters in the Masque. Cp. the Dramatis Personae, p. 24.

2 Falstaff. What said Master Dumbleton about the satin for my short cloak, and my slops?

Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance; he liked not the security. — Second Henry //*., i. 2.

3 The signature is from a photograph of the original in the British Museum. In Love's Martyr the eighteen letter spelling of the poet's hyphenated sig- nature is cunningly witnessed [by signatures to their own collateral Phoenix poetry] by Marston, Chapman and lonson. For the undisputed sixteen letter spelling of the signature appended to the Player's will in 1616, see note 3, p. 237.

260 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

T ET the bird of loudest lay, '

u ° uthe/°le ,A/ablan; V- 6?' - Knowledge. 4

Herald sad and trumpet be.

To whose sound chaste wings obey. |

1 "Ignorance is the curse of God,

Knocvledge, the wing wherewith we fly to heaven." Second Hcnrv /'/., iv. 7.

2 By art in dissimulation Shake-speare has juggled with Herodotus and Ovid and veiled his meaning under relative matter — confounding, by the proximity of the title to the second line of the poem, the disputed origin of the Phoenix, — Arabia- Assyria, with an Assyrian bird about whose origin there is no dispute "that angel knowledge."5 The key to the five riddles, similar to the casket scene in The Mer. of Venice, is given in the closing lines of Marstons Perfcc- tioni Hymnusf "all is mind," confirmed by the prophecy in Henry /'///.

"As when

The bird of wonder dies, the m<tiden /'/m>//\.'

Her ashes new create another heir,

[When Heaven shall call her from (his cloud of darkness}*

Who, from the sacred Ashes of her Honour*

Shall Star-like rise .... and so stand fix'd."8

Henry I'll/., \. 4.

3 Eve's tree of knowledge.

"All knowledge appeareth to be a plant of God's own planting." Cp. note i, p. 108.

* Confirmed by the sixth and ninth lines of Son. yo-xx. p. 95. "Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth." "And for a woman wert thou first created."

5 "That angel Knowledge," [L. L. Lost, i. il.

6 Cp. Love's Martyr, p. 188, [bottom paging].

7 The Sonnets of 1609, a dismantled Masque.

8 Not applicable to a being of flesh and blood.

9 Their love [The Masque and The Dramatis Persona) of the Masque! was "married chas-

The Phoenix Arialyzed. 261

T)UT thou shrieking harbinger,

-•-'Foul pre-currer of the fiend, | ^. i

Auger of the fever's end,

To this troop come thou not near.

1 Character addressed by Knowledge, Son. 56-cxxm.

Kiioicled^c : No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:1 Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight. 2 Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to our desire Than think that we 'before have heard them told: Thy registers and thee I both defy, 1 Not wond'ring at the present nor the past, For thy records, and what we see doth lie, Made more or less by thy continual haste: This I do vow and this shall ever be; I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee.

1 "His climbing was a throwing down." Cp. note i, p. 78.

2 A favorite argument of Socrates, "Knowledge is nothing but reminiscence." — The Phaedo, or The Immortality uf the Soul, Plato.

262 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

T^ROM this session interdict, * Every fowl of tyrant wing, j ~ 3 Save the eagle,1 feather'd king:2 |r Keep the obsequy so strict.

L "Jove's bird," — Cymbeline, iv. 2. "The holy eagle," — Cymbeline, v. 4. 2 "Two such opposed Kings encamp them still In man as well as herbs, Grace and rude will." Rom. and Jitl. , n. 3.

3 One of four characters of the Masque boldly mentioned in the fourteenth stanza of the "Will:" —

"Beauty, Truth, and Rarity Grace in all simplicity, Here enclosed in cinders lie."

The Phoenix and Turtle Dove.

The god of Knowledge being in love w\i\\ Mot her .\\ttnre, the supposed cru- cial Sonnet 6y-cxLiv is a sympathetic appeal by the god of Grace to the goddess Hope. Grace to Hope.

Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel1 is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman8 colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride. And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell:

Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

1 The god of Knowledge. "That Angel Knowledge," L. L. Lost, i. i.

2 Mother Nature. Cp. note 2, p. 57.

The Phcenix Analyzed. 263

T ET the priest in surplice white, ••--'That defunctive music can, I ^ 3

Be the death divining swan, ! |

Lest the requiem2 lack his right.

1 "I have seen a swan

With bootless labour swim against the tide, And spend her strength with overmatching waves." Third Henry VI., i. 4.

"Let music sound while he doth make his choice; Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, Fading in music."

Afer. of Venice, in. 2.

"I appear to you to be inferior to swans with respect to divination, who, when they perceive that they must needs die, though they have been used to sing before, sing then more than ever, rejoicing that they are about to depart to that deity whose servants they are."— ^-The Phaedo, or The Immortality of The Soid. Plato. Hope to Knoicledge, 85-01 V.

To me, fair fiiend, you never can be old,

For as you were when first your eye I eyed,

Such seems your beauty still. Three Winters cold

Have from the forests shook three Summers pride;

Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd,

In process of the seasons have I seen;

Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,

Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.*

Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,

Steal from his figure and no pace perceiv'd;

So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,

Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd: For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.

* The characters in the masque [excepting Father Time and Mother Nature] are Pytha- goreans Icp. Son. 21-xi.l. Time of the play five years —each Act a year. The Souls which now are about to abandon Act 3 and become Ambition and Wisdom in Act 4, were Uesz're and Rar- ity in the first Act.

264 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ND thou treble-dated1 crow, ~

That thy sable gender mak'st ( Nature

With the breath thou givest and tak'st, [ 'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

1 Point of contact between the Sonnets of 1609 and the poem of The Fha>nix and Turtle Dore, namely, Sonnets 6o-Lxx. and 8i-cxm. and the above stanza. The Crow is mentioned once in Venus and Adonis and once in the Lucrece, not at all in The Lover' s Complaint .

2 The "dark lady of the sonnets" and emblem of Mother Nature in the anti- masque — In again departing from tradition Shake-speare has availed himself of relative, though more pronounced ludicrous matter.

3 "Joachim Camerarius [1596] quoting Gesner for authority, remarks how in the solar rays, hawks or falcons, throwing off their old feathers, are accustomed to set right their defects and so to renew their youth." — Shakespeare and I fie Emblem Writers, //. Greene, p. 369.

Aside from the main purpose of the comedy [the exploiting of the Will] the antithetical arrangement of the Dramatis Personae demanded the substitution of a carion bird and I believe that henceforth the crow and not the hawk or falcon will be recognized as the emblem of Nature. Folly to Mother Nature, 138-cxxx.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.

The Phoenix Analyzed.

265

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL PROGRESSION.

All things spring from motion, and the relation that they bear to each other. — Introduction, The Theaetetus, Plato.

Stand by fair Phoenix, spread thy wings of gold, And daunt the face of Heaven with thine eye, Like Junos bird thy beauty do unfold, And thou shalt triumph o'er thine enemy: Then thou and I in Phoebus coach will fly, Where thou shalt see and taste a secret fire, That will add spreading- life to thy desire. Mother Nature to The Phoenix, Love's Martyr, p. 27.

Act I. Act II.

Act III.

Act IV. I Act V.

Rarity	Wonder	lia Knowledge*^ Wisdom	Truth
Love	Reason	« Grace W	Beauty	Art
Desire	Envy	~m Hope W	Ambition	Folly

M Wonder is the child of Rarity'- " Wonder is the seed of Knowledge. "- ' 'There is w* proceeding in inven- tion of knowledge but by similitude."- —Francis Bacon.1

So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd.

Sonnet 85-civ., p. no.

Kend shalt thou be of no man of my truth, Know first the motion, when the life ensueth.

The Dove to The Phoenix, Love's Martyr, p. 145.

1 Cp. notes from Bacon and Macaulay, pp. 80, 81, and the Edwards note, p. 149, and notes, p. 106.

266 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

ICARUS, EMBLEM OF FOLLY.

| TO THE EARL OF ESSEX.]

My Lord,

No man can better expound my doings than your Lordship, which maketh me say the less. Only I humbly pray you to be- lieve that I aspire to the conscience and commendation of first bonus civis, which with us is a good and true servant to the Queen, and next of bonus vir, that is an honest man. I desire your Lord- ship also to think that, though I confess I love some things much better than I love your Lordship, as the Queen's service, her quiet and contentment, her honour, her favour? the good of my coun- try and the like, yet I love few persons better than yourself, both for gratitude's sake, and for your own virtues, which cannot hurt but by accident or abuse. Of which my good affection I was ever and am read}'- to yield testimony by any good offices, but u'itJi such reservations as yourself cannot but allow? For as I was ever sorry that your Lordship should fly with waxen wings, doubting Icarus' fortune, so for the growing up of your own feathers — especially ostrich's or any other save of a bird of preya — no man shall be more glad. And this is the axle-tree whereupon I have turned and shall turn. Which to signify to you, though I think you are of yourself persuaded as much, 'is the cause of my writ ing? And so I commend your Lordship to God's goodness. From Gray's Inn, this 2oth day of July, 1600.

Your Lordship's most humbly,

Fr. Bacon.

1 It was Bacon who withdrew himself from Essex, not Essex who shunned Ba- con .... As earl}- as March 1597, we find him therefore shunning Essex's com- pany in Court, desiring to speak with him, but "somewhere else than at court." — Bacon and Essc.\\ /:. ./. Abholl, p. 103.

2 I acquaynted the Lord Generall [Essex] with your letter to mee, and your kynd acceptance of your enterteynement; hee was also wonderfull merry att your consait of * Richard the Second. ^ I hope it shall never alter, and where- of I shall be most gladd of, <ts the treic -^'ay to ail our good. yuiETT* mid ad- vancement, and most of all for Her sake whose affaires shall thereby fynd better progression. Sir, I will ever be your's; // is nil / can save, and I will per- forme it n-flh my life, and icit/i my fortune. Sir ll'aller 'Raleigh to Robert Cecil, July 6th, •L$gi.—LifeofR<ilcffht Edicards, Vol. II. p. 169.

1 Cp. note from Judge Webb, p. 125. '» Cp. Sir Walter Malvolio, pp. 124, 153.

The Phoenix Analyzed. 267

Mr. Bacon,

I can neither expound nor censure your late actions, being ignorant of them all save one, and having directed my sight in- ward only to examine myself. You do pray me to believe that you only aspire to the conscience and commendation of bonus ciris and bonus vir; and I do faithfully assure you that while that is your ambition [though your course be active and mind contem- plative],1 yet we shall both convenire in eodem tertio, and convenire inter nos ipsos. Your profession of affection and your offer of good offices are welcome to me. For answrer to them I wrill say but this: that you have believed I have been kind to you, and you may believe that I cannot be other, either upon humor or mine own election. / am a stranger to all poetical conceits,71 or else I should say somewhat of your poetical example. But this I must say, that I never flew with other wings than desire to merit, and confidence in, my sovereign's favour, and when one of these wings failed me, I would light nowhere but at my sovereign's feet, though she suffered me to be bruised with my fall. And till her Majesty —that knows I was never bird of prey — finds it to agree with her will and her service that my wings should be imped again, I have commited myself to the mue. No power but my God's and my sovereign's can alter this resolution of

Your retired friend,

Essex.

"This implies a charge of inconsistency against Bacon," — Abbott, p. 182. a Cp. note from Judge Holmes, p. 103.

Untruthfulness was the basis of Court life .... there was the art of writing a letter in which the main point should be casually added or introduced; there was the art of being found reading a letter of ivhich one desired to make knoivn the contents, but not in a direct way .... What the art of oratory was in dem- ocratic Athens, the art of lying and flattering was for a courtier in the latter part of the Elizabethan monarchy, no courtier was safe of his position without it.

Cog, lie, flatter and face, Four ways in Court to win you grace. If you be thrall to none of these, Away, good Piers! Home, John Cheese!

Bacon and Essex, Edwin A. Abbott, pp. i, 2, 3.

268 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

DAEDALUS AND ICARUS IN THE DRAMA.

K. Hen. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind: The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a bush,

With trembling wings misdoubteth ever}' bush:

And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,

Have now the fatal object in my eye,

Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a fowl? And yet for all his wings the fool was drown'd.

K. Hen. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;

Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun, that seared the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.

Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner?

K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art:

If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.

* * * * *

Glo. I'll hear no more. — Die, prophet in thy speech. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.

Third Henry VI., v. 6.

The Phoenix Analyzed. 269

DAEDALUS EMBLEM OF ART.1

Dcedalus, — A mythical personage, under whose name the Greek writers personified the earliest devel- opement of the arts of sculpture and architecture, es- pecially among the Athenians and Cretans.

Though he is represented as living in the early he- roic period, the age of Minos and of Theseus, he is not mentioned by Homer, except in one doubtful passage. The ancient writers generally represent Daedalus as an Athenian, of the royal race of the Erechtheidae. Oth- ers call him a Cretan, on account of the long time he lived in Crete. He devoted himself to sculpture, and made great improvements in the art.

He instructed his sisters son, Perdix, who soon came to surpass him in skill and ingenuity, and Daedalus killed him through envy, being condemned to death for this murder, he went to Crete, where the fame of his skill obtained for him the friendship of Minos. He made the well-known wooden cow for Pasiphae; and on the birth of the Minotaur, Daedalus constructed the labyrinth, at Cnossus, in which the monster was kept. For his part in this affair, Daedalus was imprisoned by Minos; but Pasiphae released him, and, as Minos had seized all the ships on the coast of Crete, Daedalus pro- cured wings for himself and his son Icarus, and fastened them on with wax. Daedalus himself flew safe over the Aegean, but, as Icarus flew too near the sun the wax by which his wings were fastened on was melted, and he dropped down and was drowned in that part of the

1 "Art is commonly used by Shakespeare for letters, learning and science." — Douuden.

270 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

Aegean which was called after him the Icarian sea. Daedalus fled to Sicily, where he was protected by Co- calus, the king of the Siciani, and where he erected many great works of art. Of the stories which connect him with Egypt, the most important are the statements of Diodorus, that he executed works there, that he cop- ied his labyrinth from that in Egypt that the style of his statues was the same as that of the ancient Egyptian statues, and that Daedalus himself was worshipped in Egypt as a god. '

The later Greek writers explained these myths after their usual absurd plan. Thus according to Lucian, Daedalus was a great master of astrology, and taught the science to his son, who, soaring above plain truths into transcendental mysteries, lost his reason, and was drowned in the abyss of difficulties.

The Fable of Pasiphae is also explained by making her a pupil of Daedalus in astrology, and the bull is the constellation Taurus.

Palaephatus explains the wings of Daedalus as meaning the invention of sails—

If these fables are to be explained at all, the only rational interpretation is, that they were poetical inven- tions, setting forth the great improvement which took place, in the mechanical as well as in the fine arts, at the age of which Dcedalus is a personification?

The exact character of the Daedalian epoch of art will be best understood from the statements of the an- cient writers respecting his productions. The following works of sculpture and architecture are ascribed to him.

1 Cp. note 2, p. 160.

The Phcenix Analyzed. 271

In Crete the cow of Pasiphae and the labyrinth. In Sicily, near Megaris, the Colymbethra, or reservoir, from which a great river named Alabon, flowed into the sea; near Agrigentum, an impregnable city upon a rock, in which was the royal palace and treasury of Cocalus; in the territory of Selinus a cave, in which the vapour arising from a subterranean fire was received in such a manner, as to form a pleasant vapour bath. He also enlarged the summit of mount Eryx by a wall, so as to make a firm foundation for the temple of Aphrodite. For this same temple he made a honeycomb of gold which could scarcely be distinguished from a real honey- comb. Diodorus adds, that he was said to have exe- cuted many more works of art in Sicily, which had per- ished through the lapse of time. Several other works of art were attributed to Daedalus, in Greece, Italy, Libya, and the islands of the Mediterranean. Temples of Apollo at Capua and Cumae were ascribed to him. In the islands called Electridae, in the Adriatic, there were said to be two statues, the one of tin and the other of brass, which Daedalus made to commemorate his ar- rival at those islands during his flight from Minos. They were the images of himself and his son Icarus. At Mon- ogissa in Caria there was a statue of Artemis ascribed to him. In Egypt he was said to be the architect of a most beautiful propylaeum to the temple of Hephaestus at Memphis, for which he was rewarded by the erection of a statue of himself and made by himself, in that tem- ple. Scylax mentions an altar on the coast of Libya, which was sculptured with lions and dolphins by Dae- dalus. The temple of Artemis Britomortis, in Crete, was ascribed to Daedalus. At Delos, a small terminal

272 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

wooden statue of Aphrodite, which was said to have been made by Daedalus for Ariadne, who carried it to Delos when she fled with Theseus. Pausanias adds, that these were all the works of Daedalus which remained at his time, for that the statue set up by the Arrives in the Heraeum and that which Antiphemus had removed from the Sicanian city, Omphace, to Gelos, had perish- ed through time.

The inventions and improvements attributed to Daedalus are both artistic and mechanical. He was the reputed inventor of carpentry and its chief tools, the saw, the axe, the plumb-line, the auger, the gimlet and glue. He was said to have been taught the art of car- pentry by Minerva. In naval architecture, the invention of the mast and yards is ascribed to Daedalus.

In statuary, the improvements attributed to Dae- dalus were the opening of the eyes and of the feet, which had been formerly closed, and the extending of the hands, which had been formerly placed down close to the sides. Aristotle mentions a wooden figure of Aph- rodite, which was moved by quicksilver within it, as a work ascribed to Daedalus.

From these statements of the ancient writers it is not difficult to form some idea of the period in the his- tory of art which the name of Daedalus represents. The name itself, like the others which are associated with it, such as Eupalamus, implies skill. The Daedalian stvle of art continued to prevail and improve down to the be- ginning of the fifth century B. C., and the artists of that long period were called Daedalids, and claimed an act- ual descent from Daedalus, according to the well-known custom by which art was hereditary in certain families.

The Pluvnix Analyzed. 273

This genealogy was carried down as late as the time of Socrates, who claimed to be a Dsedalid. * — Greek and Roman Biog. and M., Smith.

1 On the tomb of Shake-speare [who died in 1601, and was buried by proxy — preposterous as it may seem — as Shakspere in 1616 ""because peradi'oitiire, some* iiai'e either malevolently, i^illi exceeding bitterness abused his honor- able (ts/ics contumeliously"]* was inscribed "Socrates ingenio, " a Socrates in his turn of mind.

"I declare" says Socrates in 'J'lie '/'heaves, "that I know nothing whatever, except one small matter what belongs to love. In that I surpass every one else, past as well as present." In the Platonic philosophy this "small matter" en- larged itself into the great sustaining force of the universe, and he who knew love knew the kernel of all that could be known. — Philosophy of Shakespeare'1 s Sonnets, Ricliard Simpson.

Hence it follows that Lot'e* s Martyr of the Elizabethan age, was not only the dismantled play of Lore's Labor's ITon but [subsequent to 1601] Shake- speare also, and the constellation of the Phoenix was the emblem not only for the play but for the author of the play. Cp. Drayton's Sonnet, p. 246.

1 "The world followeth the sway of her inclination." — Dyer [Cp. p. 206]. 2 Cp. p. 286.

It has generally been supposed that the complexion of several of Shakespeare's Historical plays was political — in a measure, yes— but only to show that through his ancestry he was el- igible to the succession. The chances are that Essex was promised the succession in 1588. 1 but as far as the evidence goes he was ever loyal to the succession of James. It is my opin- ion that the playing of Richard tin- Second "forty times in open streets and houses" in 1601, was a subterfuge of Elizabeth, Raleigh and Sir Robert Cecil, (paid for with their money I2 and that in 1601 Essex had no more idea of supplanting Elizabeth than had the Countess Lettice, who was charged with the same offence.3 The "guilt" lay in lampooning the Queen as Ger- trude in Hamlet, the defection being Social, not political-4 Again, the chances are that Rob- ert Dudley was an honorable man. not an atheist, as charged, but along with Sidney, Spenser and Bruno of a Unitarian turn of mind, and under no conditions whatsoever would he have married Mary Stuart or Elizabeth the virgin-harlot, there was metal more attractive in the woman he married, the better sort" Lettice Knollys the mother of Shake-speare "she that did supply the wars with thunder and the court with stars." Socially to the rigidly honest, the rank and file of humanity has ever been out of joint, since, however gained, personal ad- vancement is the ruling passion. For the play of Hamlet the world is indebted to what galled our poet "in the highest degree" not that his house was slandered, for that was to be expect- ed, but the spectacle of the poltroonish time-serving world applauding slander5 inspired by exalted rottenness and prorogated by social barnacles whose place depended upon abject fawning and disregard of truth, knaves who

"Used the advantage time and fortune gave, | Of worth and powec to get the liberty." j 6

It is ominous that no member of the Court of Elizabeth ever mentioned the name of Shake- speare, and time has proven that the enemies of our poet were the most successful liars, thieves, and cut-throats the world has ever known. Sir William Cecil, at his death in 1598, was accounted one of the richest men in England, possessed of three hundred distinct land- ed estates presumably escheated by the crown.7 Figuring Elizabethan money at eight times its present value. Sir Walter Raleigh niched out of the Es^ex insurrection $8oo,ooo.oo,x and mod- est Francis Bacon, since it was "a vice to know him"9 was sadly disappointed with his paltry fee of $48,000.00. "Thei)ueen hath done somewhat for me, though not in the Proportion I hop- <v/"10

1 Cp. the last stanza of The Buzzing- Bee's Complaint, p. 338.

2 Cp. Raleigh's letter to Cecil, p. 266. :i Cp. p. 103. * Cp. all of p. 221, and notes, pp. 94 and 136.

The Percy appears to have had his match however in his own wife, Dorothy Devereux. the sister of Lady Rich and Robert Earl of Essex. In one of their domestic quarrels the Earl of Northunderland had said he would rather the King of Scots were buried than crowned, and that both he and all his friends would end their lives before her brother's great God should reign in his element. To which the lady spiritedly replied, that rather than any other save James should reign King of England she would eat their hearts in salt, though she were, brought to the gallows immediately. — Shakespeare's Sonnet's, Massey, p. 64.

5 Cp. note r, p. 186-

6 Cp- the Essex Sonnet frontispage 7.

~' Cp. Ritrlfigh and His Times, Macaulay. p. 733. x Cp. Lives of the Earls of Essex, Vol. 2, p. 198.

9 That Francis Bacon was Osric in Hamlet, cp. pp. 150, 151.

10 Cp. Bacon and Essex, Abbott, p. 251,

18

274 Shake- spe are England's Ulysses,

POEM ATTRIBUTED TO SHAKESPEARE

— IN— BENSON'S 1640 EDITION OE THE SONNETS.

"This Mynotaure, when hee came to growth, was incloased in the Laborinth, which was made by the curious Arts-master Dedalus, whose ,tale likewise we thus pursue."

When Dedalus the laborinth had built,

In which t' include the Queene Pasiphaes guilt,

And that the time was now expired full,

To inclose the Mynotaure, halfe man, halfe bull:

Kneeling he says, Just Mynos end my moans

And let my native soil entomb my bones:

Or if dread sovereign I deserve no grace,

Look with a piteous eye on my sons face.

And grant me leave from whence we are exiled,

Or pity me, if you deny my child:

This and much more he speaks, but all in vain.

The king, both son and father will detain,

Which he perceiving says; Now, now, 'tis fit,

To give the world cause to admire my wit,

Both land and sea are watched by day and night.

Nor land nor sea lies open to our flight:

Only the air remains, then let us try

To cut a passage through the air and fly,

Jove be auspicious to my enterprise,

I covet not to mount above the skies:

But make this refuge, since I can prepare

No means to fly my Lord, but through the air,

The Phoenix Analysed. 275

Make me immortal, bring me to the brim

Of the black Stigian water, Styx ile swim:

Oh human wit, thou can'st invent much ill?

Thou searchest strange arts, who would think by skill

A heavy man like a light bird should stray,

And through the empty heavens find a way.

He placeth in just order all his quills,

Whose bottoms with resolved wax he fills,

Then binds them with a line, and being fast tied,

He placeth them like oars on either side,

The tender lad the downy feathers blew,

And what his father meant, he nothing knew,

The wax he fastened, with the strings he played

Not thinking for his shoulders they were made,

To whom his father spake [and then looked pale]

With these swift ships, we to our land must sail.

All passages doth cruel Mynos stop,

Only the empty air he still leaves ope. \

That way must we; the land and the rough deep >- *

Doth Mynos bar, the air he cannot keep: )

But in thy way beware thou set no eye

On the sign Virgo, nor Boetes high:

Look not the black Orion in the face

That shakes his sword, but just with me keep pace.

1 It will be remembered that the characters of the Sonnet Masque are muses, the winged gods of Homer in Extensa. The Phcc.)iix to Diedalus.

"One on another's neck, do witness bear Thy black [art] is fairest in my judgments place." Sonnet, cxxxi., p. 164.

And Spenser's line "Of other worlds he happily, should hear." [Cp. p. 247.] And Hamlet's "Forest of Feathers." [Cp. Massey's lines, p. 73.]

276 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Thy wings are now in fastening, fastening, follow me,

I will before thee fly as thou shalt see,

Thy father mount, or stoop, so I aread thee,

Make me thy guard, and safely I will lead thee:

If we should soar too near great Phoebus seat,

The melting wax will not endure the heat,

Or if we fly too near the humid seas,

Our moistened wings we cannot shake with ease.

Fly between both, and with the gusts that rise,

Let thy light body sail amidst the skies,

And ever as his little son he charms,

He fits the feathers to his tender arms:

And shows him how to move his body light,

As birds first teach their little young ones flight:

By this he calls to counsel all his wits,

And his own wings unto his shoulders fits,

Being about to rise, he fearfuls quakes:

And in this new way his faint body shakes:

First ere he took his flight, he kissed his son,

Whilst by his cheeks the brinish waters run,

There was a hillock not so towering tall

As lofty mountains be, nor yet so small

To be with valleys even, and yet a hill,

From this thus both attempt their uncouth skill:

The father moves his wings, and with respect

His eyes upon his wandering son reflect:

They bear a spacious course, and the apt bov

Fearless of harm in his new tract doth joy,

And flies more boldly: Now upon them looks

The fishermen that angle in the brooks,

And with their eyes cast upward frighted stand,

By this is Samos Isle on their left hand,

The Phoenix Analyzed. 277

Upon the right Lehinthos they forsake,

Aslipalen and the Fishy Lake.

Shady Pachime full of woods and groves.

When the rash youth, too bold in venturing, roves;

Loses his guide, and takes his flight so high

That the soft wax against the sun doth fry,

And the cords slip, that kept the feathers fast,

So that his arms have power upon no blast:

He fearfully from the high clouds looks down,

Upon the lower heavens, whose curled waves frown

At his ambitious height, and from the skies

He sees black night and death before his eyes,

Still melts the wax, his naked arms he shakes,

And thinking to catch hold, no hold he takes:

Bnt now the naked lad, down headlong falls,

And by the way, he father, father calls:

Help father help, I die, and as he speaks,

A violent surge his course of language breaks.

The unhappy father, but no father now,

Cries out aloud, Son Icarus where art thou ?

Where art thou Icarus, where dost thou fly?

Icarus where art? When low he may espy

The feathers swim, aloud he doth exclaim,

The earth his bones, the sea still bears his name.

Shakespeare s Poems, John Benson, 1640.

COLLATERAL SUGGESTIONS,

'Friends, Noman kills me; Noman in the hour Of sleep, oppresses me with fraudful power,' If no man hurt thee, but the hand divine Inflict disease, it fits thee to resign: To Jove or to thy father Neptune pra}\ The brethren cry'd, and instant strode away. Joy touched my secret soul and conscious heart, Pleased with th' effect of conduct and of art.

Adventures of Ulysses [Pope's tr.] .

' 'Ha! Cyclops! if any man of mortal birth Note thine unseemly blindness, and inquire The occasion, tell him that Laertes' son, Ulysses, the destroyer of walled towns, Whose home is Ithaca, put out thine eye.' " Adventures of Ulysses [Bryant's tr.].

Look [Homer] thou shalt find

Those children nurs'd, deliver'd from thy brain, To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. .These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.

William Shake-speare. [Cp. Son. LXXVII., p. 20.]

NOTED TRANSLATIONS

—OF—

PENELOPE'S CHALLENGE.1

THE ARGUMENT.

To night, in honor of the marry 'd life, Our author treats you with a virtuous wife; A lady, who, for twenty years, withstood The pressing instances of flesh and blood, Her husband, still a man of sense reputed, [Unless this tale his wisdom have confuted,] Left her at ripe eighteen, to seek renown, And battle for a harlot at Troy Town; To fill his place, fresh lovers came in shoals, Much such as now a-days are cupids tools, Some men of wit, , but the most part were fools, They sent her Billets doux, and presents many, Of ancient Tea and Thericlean China; Rail'd at the Gods, toasted her o'er and o'er, Dress'dather, danc'd, and fought, andsigh'd, and swore; In short, did all that men could do to have her, And damn'd themselves to get into her favour; But all in vain, the virtuous dame stood buff, ) And let 'em know that she was coxcomb proof, j 2 Prologue, Tragedy of Ulysses, Nicholas Rowe, 1706.

1 For Shake-speare's probable use of Penelope's Challenge see p. 19.

2 Cp. extracts from IVillobie' s Arisa, p. 339, and notes from Messrs. Gollancz and Lee, pp. 48, 49.

279

280 Shake-spectre England's Ulysses,

Hear me, ye wooers, that a pleasure take

To do me sorrow, and my house invade

To eat and drink, as if 'twere only made

To serve your rapines; my lord long away,

And you allowed no colour for your stay

But his still absence; Striving who shall frame

Me for his wife; and, since 'tis made a game,

I here propose divine Ulysses' bow

For that great maister-piece to which ye vow:

He that can draw it with least show to strive,

And through these twelve ax-heads an arrow drive,

Him will I follow, and this house forego

That nourisht me a maid, now furnisht so

With all things fit, and which I so esteem

That I shall still live in it in my dream.

George Chapman, 1614-16.

Say you, whom these forbidden walls enclose, For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows; If these neglected, faded charms can move ? Or is it but a vain pretence, you love? If I the prize, if me you seek to wife, Hear the conditions, and commence the strife: Who first Ulysses' wondrous bow shall bend, And through twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send, Him will I follow, and forsake my home, For him forsake this lov'd, this wealthy dome, Long, long the scene of all my past delight, And still to last, the vision of my night.

Alexander Pope, 1725.

Penelopes Challenge. 281

Ye noble suitors hear, who rudely haunt This palace of a Chief long absent hence, Whose substance ye have long time consumed, Nor palliative have yet contrived, or could, Save your ambition to make me a bride- Attend this game to which I call you forth. Now suitors! prove yourselves with this huge bow Of wide-renown'd Ulysses; he who draws .Easiest the bow, and who his arrow sends Through twice six rings, he takes me to his home, And I must leave this mansion of my youth Plenteous, magnificent, which, doubtless, oft I shall remember even in my dreams.

William Cowper, 1791.

Hear me, ye noble suitors, who press heavily upon this house to eat and drink without ceasing, my husband being absent for a long time; nor have ye been able to make any other pretext for your sedition, but as desir- ing to marry me, and make me your wife. But come, suitors, since this contest has appeared; for I will put down the great bow of divine Ulysses, and whoever shall most easily stretch the bow in his hands, and shall dart an arrow through the whole twelve hatchets, him will I follow leaving this house which I entered when a virgin, verry beautiful, full of the means of livelihood: which I think I shall sometime remember, even in a dream.

T. A.* Buckley, 1855.

282 Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

Thus coming in, the curved bow she held,

And the large quiver with sad arrows stored,

Also the maidens bore a coffer, filled

With brass and steel, the prizes of their lord.

So came the queen near to the banquet-board;

And by the pillar of the dome she stood,

Screened with her lucid veil, and spoke this word:

"Hear now, ye suitors, who for drink and food

Lie heavy on this house, and vex my widowhood.

1 'This was your pretext, and none else but this,

To wed me, come, behold your test of skill!

Nor of due guerdon shall the victor miss.

Here is my lord's bow; feel it as ye will;

And from whose hand the shaft with easiest thrill

Flies through each ring which there in order gleams,

Him will I follow both for good and ill,

Leaving this house which so delightful seems,

Home to be vet remembered even in mv dreams.

P. S. Worsley, 1861.

Hear, noble suitors! ye who throng these halls,

And eat and drink from day to day, while long

My husband has been gone; Your sole excuse

For all this lawlessness the claim ye make

That I become a bride. Come then, for now

A contest is proposed. I bring to'you

The mighty bow that great Ulysses bore.

Who'er among you he may be whose hand

Shall bend'this bow, and send through these twelve rings

An arrow, him I follow hence, and leave

This beautiful abode of my young vears,

With all its plenty, — though its memory,

I think, will haunt me even in my dreams.

IV. C. Bryant, 1872.

1 Shall String this bow. — "The first attempt of Telemachus and the suitors was not an attempt to shoot, but to lodge the bow-string on the opposite horn, the bow having been released at one end, and slackened while it was laid by." — William Cozvper.

Penelope s Challenge. 283

Hear me! ye princely suitors: who to feast

Continual of viands and of wines

Within these walls resort, and on our home

Oppressive burdens lay while so long time

My consort absent lingers, and no ground

Can for you trespass herein urge but hopes

Of nuptial contract making; and myself

The bride to be: Attend to me, who thus

The 'prize of competition you have made—

This mighty bow, Ulysses' own, I here

Before you all produce; and whosoe er

This self-same bow, as here he handles it,

With greatest ease shall stretch, and through the rings

Of all twelve axes shall an arrow shoot,

The man will be whom I shall follow hence,

This palace quiting which, while yet a girl,

I enter 'd, rich in beauty, rich in wealth,

Lifes maintenance providing; all of which

Long hence shall I in memory retain,

Aye, ev'n in dreams recalling.

George Musgrave, 1865.

Hear me, ye lordly wooers, that have vexed this house, that ye might eat and drink here evermore, for- asmuch as the master is long gone, nor could you find any other mask for your speech, but all your desire was to wed me and take me to wife. Nay come now, ye wooers, seeing that this is the prize that is put before you. I will set forth for you the great bow of divine Odysseus, and whoso shall most easily string the bow in his hands, and shoot through all twelve axes, with him will I go and forsake this house, this honourable house, so very fair and filled with all lively-hood, which me- thinks I shall yet remember, aye, in a dream. — S. H. Bit tch er and A. La ng, 1879.

284 Shake-spear e England *s Ulysses,

Harken to me, ye arrogant suitors that evermore

Afflict mine house with devouring and drinking our garnered store

While my lord hath been long time gone; and through all this

weary tide

Could your false hearts find for your lips no word-pretence beside, Save this, that each of you sorely desired to win me his bride. Come suitors, for this is the contest appointed your wooing to end: I will set you the mighty bow of Odysseus the hero divine: Whosoe'er of you all with his hands shall the bow most easily

bend, And shoot through the rings of the axes twelve ranged all in a

line,

Him will I follow, forsaking this beautiful home of mine, Dear home, that knew me a bride, with its wealth of abundant

store;

I shall never forget it: even in dreams I shall see it for evermore.

Arthur L. Way, 1880.

Harken, O high-heart wooers, this house that waste and wear,

Eating and drinking our substance without a stop or stay,

The wealth of our house-master so long a while away,

And can make no other pretext of the matter ye plan to do

But that ye long to wed me and take me the wife of you.

— Come, wooers, since the contest and the prize befalleth so,

Here will I lay before you Odysseus' mighty bow,

And whichso of you the easiest with his palms the bow shall bend,

And throughout all twelve of the axes the shaft therefrom shall

send,

Him then shall I follow, departing from this house of the wed- ded wife,

This fair house so abundant in all that upholdeth life; Which yet shall I remember, tho but in dreams it be.

Wm. Morris, 1887.

Penelope s Challenge. 285

My noble suitors, hear me. The prince, my son,

Hath told you of the purpose of m\r coming:

Howe'er that be, attend. Ye heive now long time

Besieged this widowed house, and day by day

Eating and drinking without end, abused

The absence of its lord; and ever in all

Ye have still proclaimed one object, me to woo

And wed. Till now I have barred consent: to-day

I yield me to your urgence to declare

Whom I will choose: but since not willingly

I wed, I set my fortune with the gods

To guide and govern. Here is Ulysses' bow:

With this contest I pray you among yourselves,

And I will be the prize. Yes, his am I

Who strings most easily this bow, and shoots

The truest arrow through the axes' heads.

He is my husband and with him to-day

Will I leave this fair house so dearly loved.

Eumaeus, take the bow. Offer it now

In turn to all: and let all try in turn;

I will sit here and watch.

Robert Bridges, 1884.

Hearken you haughty suitors who beset this house, eating and drinking ever, now my husband is long gone; no word of excuse can you suggest except your wish to marry me and win me for your wife. Well then, my suitors, — since before you stands your prize, — I offer you the mighty bow of prince Odysseus; and whoever with his /lands shall lightliest bend the bow and shoot through all twelve axes, him I will follow and forsake this home, this bridal' home, so very beautiful and full of wealth, a place I think I ever shall remember, even in my dreams, — G, H. Palmer, 1891,

A FULL LENGTH PORTRAIT OF ESSEX.

"I cannot sufficiently set down what [in my judge- ment, and by the relation of very just and wise men of his secrets] l I have considered and conceived of that noble warrior. Howbeit, thus much as the least of my just obsequies to so renouned a lord; He never was heard [that ever I could heare] to have gloried or boast- ed of his victories or fortunate services: but in all his actions, civile or military, did refer all with joyfull hum- blenesse and thanksgiving to God; and to the speciall wisedome and direction of his Prince, as a servant and minister of theirs. And thus, by specious declaration of his vertue in obedience, and of his modestie in speech, he still lived free from malice : and yet as a royall deere, always pasturing within the golden pale of glorie. How- beit, [to his owne sodaine dissolution, and to the dolor- ous downefall and heaviness of his many friends which fell with him, and which lamented for him long after him] hee found it and left it, which is by Tacitus written as a position infallible, to bee pondered amongst all ambitious and aspiring subjects, or other great ones, which cannot set limits to their owne appetites, Onatu forniidolosum sit privati liotninis gloriam supra prin- cipis attoli.

But that I may speake somewhat of him according to true judgement and indifferencie: because peraclven- ture, some have either malevolently, with exceeding- bitterness abused his honorable ashes contumeliously ; and others percase which have as blindly in the contrary sanctified him as one more than a man, beyonde his

1 The masque of Love s Labor s Won.

"Her firmnesse cloth'd him in variety." [Cp. p. 248.]

Portrait of Essex. 287

deserts and the measure of his nature; [both which are most odious to the true taste of all noble natures,] I say thus much: which they that wisely did know him, will acknowledge also. His minde was incomprehensible. By nature a man addicted to pleasures, but much more to glorie. If he were at any time luxurious, [which some very impudently have thrust upon his dead coffin, against all truth and modestie] it was very little: and that, when he was idle, which was very seldom. How- beit, never could any delicacies or corporall comforts draw him, since he was imployed in the publike counsels of his Prince and Countrey to neglect any serious busi- nesse. He was eloquent, and well knew the guilefull trappes and insidious treacheries of this world, by good experience and much reading. He was affable, and soone any man's friend, that was either by friends com- mended unto him, or had any specious appearance of good qualities in him. The loftiness of his wit [as I may most properly term it] was most quick, present, and in- credible: in dissembling with counterfeit friends, and in, concealing any matter and businesse of importance, be- yond expectation. 1 He was bountifull, magnificent, and liberall, in all the course of his life: having commended multitudes of people unto livings, pensions, preferments, and great sums of money; as appeared both by the land of his owne, which he sould and engaged to maintaine the same, and by the large dispensation of his soveraig- ne's treasure, committed to his trust and discretion. And, which I may speake in truth most boldly, his for- tune was always good before, as appeared in France and Cadiz; but much inferior to his valorous Industrie, until his late unfortunate voyage in Anno 1597 — : and that his other pestilent and inauspicious expedition for Ireland; before which times it was difficult, to be discern- ed, whether his valour or fortune were more. I myselfe,

* The Sonnets of 1609, a dismantled masque,

288 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

a boy, have seen him in the French wanes to communi- cate in sports, and sometimes in serious matters, with men of meane condition and place, [their fortunes and parentage valued] to be delighted and exercised in la- bouring with the mattock in trenches, fosses and in other workes amongst his battels: to be busied in setting of watches, in making of barricadoes at his quarter, and in often walking the round. ] Also that vice [which conta- gious ambition much arlecteth,] could never be noted in him; which was, to detract from the credit and good fame of any of his fellows in her majesties counsell, [they being absent] or of any other man. Only this it went neere him, and laie heavie to his heart, that any of them should be thought more valiant than himself. Being scarce a vice, but emulation rather proceeding from the mightinesse of his spirit. And without doubt, he did exceed many of them in many things. By which means, even as Salust describeth Sylla, so did he become pre- cious in presence of his souldiers. From his childhood he was hardened with exercise, "taking pleasure and some travaile and labours, which other men for the most part would have reputed miseries and calamities. His ap- prehension and prudeuce was admirable; by which he would, and many tirn'es did, prevent and turn the mis- chiefes and fallacies of his enemies upon their own heads. 3 He was circumspect in all matters appertaining to his owne office and charge; and would not endure, if by any means counsell or engine he could devise, to leave anv safe evasions or munitions, offensive or defensive, with his enemies. And that which was most rare in so great a Captajne. [though in discipline of warre he declared

1 "A little touch of Harry in the night

Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent." Henry }'. [Chorus, ACT iv.]

"I have been in continual practice, I shall win at the odds." — Hamlet, \. 7/if mas(/tte o/' Love's Labor's II 'on. Cp. all of p. 2^0,

Portra it of Essex. 289

himself severe as was fit, meeke and honorable towards his Captaines which had well deserved,] neither did his mildnesse and facilitie withdraw from his reputation, nor his severity diminish the love of his souldiers only this to conclude of him in the person of a Generall.

The end of his life was much lamented by the bet- ter and nobler part of his countrymen. It was very grievous to them that were his friends and lovers : it was pitied and repined against with a certain kind of regret by forrenners and strangers, which had heard of his valour: and those enemies, or emulators rather, of his heroicall vertues in Spaine and France, which had felt the weight of his valour, rejoyced not upon report of his death. I would [if it had so pleased God] that he might have died in the warres upon the enemies of his countrey ; that I might with good cheere have registered his death in these Offices.

To conclude with his description of body, briefly being the same with that which Tacitus did write of Julius Agricola: — decentior Quam sublimior fruit, nihil nictus in vultu, gratia oris super er at, bonum virum facile credideres magnum libenter. He was tall and in au- thority: yet was he more comely than loftie. In his forehead and countenance much valour and boldnesse were imprinted and expressed. His lookes were very gratious. They that had judiciously beheld him, would have easily believed that he was a very good man, and would have been very glad to have known him a mightie man. And that which was most rare and ad- mirable in men of our age, in his distresse and calamities his mind was not only great and noble, like his blood and place, but much loftier and firmer than in his most firme honours and prosperitie.

And so much in brief, so neare as I could, have I done to life, the morall qualities and perfections of that heroicall Generall, without adulation or partialitie, — Four Books of Offices, Barnabe Barnes, \ 606,

19

POEMS BEARING ON THE AUTHORSHIP.

To the memory of my beloved, the Author, Mr. William Shakespeare, and what he hath left us.1

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such, As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much; 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; For silliest ignorance on these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right; Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise, And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise. These are, as some infamous bawd, or whore, Should praise a matron; what would hurt her more? But thou art proof against them, and, indeed, Above the ill-fortune of them, or the need. I, therefore, will begin: Soul of the age! The applause! delight! and wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie

1 If my memory is not at fault Dryden branded this poem "invidious pane- gyric," but not so, the scope is eulogistic and satirical. If, through necessity, the Sonnets of 1609 are a dismantled Masque, if, through necessity, the cher- ished character assumed by our dramatist was that of Ulysses, then, of necessity, there was a Shake-speare and a Shakspere, the duality in name being in harmony with the duality of the Sonnets, the duality of the Phrenix, the duality of Love's Martyr, and the dual drift of this poem. Cp. p. 28.

290

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 291

A little further, to make thee a room:

Thou art a monument without a tomb,

And art alive still, while thy book doth live,

And we have wits to read, and praiseto give.

That I not mix thee so,1 my brain excuses;

I mean with great but disproportion'd muses :

For, if I thought my judgment were of years,

I should commit thee surely with thy peers.

And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine,

Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow's mighty line:

And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek, 2

From thence to honour thee, I will not seek

For names; but call forth thundering Eschylus,

Euripides, and Sophocles, to us,

Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,

To live again, to hear thy buskin tread,

And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on, ^

Leave thee alone for the comparison I 3

Of all that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome f

Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. J

Triumph, my Britain! thou hast one to show,

To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.

He was not of an age, but for all time;

And all the muses still were in their prime,

When, like Apollo he came forth to warm

Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm !

Nature herself was proud of his designs, ~1

And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines; ^4

Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,

As since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.

1 Referring to an elegy on Shake-speare and Shakspere, written by William Basse. This elegy ["curious in its way"] is given on p. 147.

2 Cp. note 2, p. 225, and note i, p. 290.

3 The speaking characters of the Sonnets, personified abstractions, the acme of Hellenic bloom.

* Cp. Spenser's lines, p. 10.

292 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,

Neat Terence, witty Flatus, now not please;

But antiquated and deserted lie,

As they were not of nature's family.

Yet must I not give nature all; thy art,

My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part:

For though the poet's matter nature be.

His art doth give the fashion; and, that he

Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,

[Such as thine are] and strike the second heat

Upon the muses' anvil; turn the same,

[And himself with it] that he thinks to frame;

Or for the laurel, he may gain a scorn ;

For a good poet's made, as well as born:

And such wert thou ! Look, how the father's face

Lives in his issue; even so the race

Of Shakespeare's mind, and manners, brightly shines

In his well-turned and true-filed lines;

In each of which he seems to shake a lance,

As brandish'd at the eyes of ignorance.

Sweet Swan of Avon!1 ivhat a sight it were

To see thee in our water yet appear,

And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,

That so did take Eliza, and our James.3

But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere

Advanc'd, and made a constellation there!

Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage,

Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage,

Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like

night, And despairs day, but for thy volume's light.

Ben Jonson in First Folio, 1623,

1 Cp. note 2, p. 225, and note i, p. 290.

8 Had Essex, instead of James, been Elizabeth's successor, "Hyperion to a satyr," hence, no doubt, James was greatly "taken" with the assumption of the Shake-spearian authorship by the player. Cp. note 3, p. 201.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 293

AN ECLOGUE GRATULATORY.

To the renowned Shepherd of Albions Arcadia: Robert Earl of Essex and Ewe, for his welcome into England from Portugal.1

Piers. Palinode.

In Patriam rediit magnus Apollo suam.

Palinode.

Herdgroom, what makes thy pipe to go so loud? Why be thy looks so smirking and so proud? Verily plain Piers, but this doth ill agree With th' bad fortune that ever thwarteth thee.

Piers.

What thwarteth me, good Palinode, is fate, Aye, born was Piers to be unfortunate: Yet shall my bag-pipe go so loud and shrill That heaven may entertain my kind good- will;

lo, io psean!

Palinode.

Thou art too bold, and crowdest all too high; Beware a chip fall not into thine eye: Man, if triumphals here be in request, Then let them chant them that can chant them best.

Piers.

Thou art a sour swain, Palinode, perdy; My bag-pipe vaunteth not of victory: 'Tis only a twang I beg to make For chivalry and lovely learning's sake!

Io, io psean!

1 It has been noted by I}r. Latham that in the text of one of the early quar- tos, Hamlet was sent not to England but to "Portingal."

294 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Of arms to sing I have nor lust nor skill; Enough is me to blazon my good-will, To welcome home that long hath lacked been, One of the jolliest shepherds of our green;

lo, io paean!

Palinode.

Tell me, good Piers, I pray thee tell it me, What may this jolly swain or shepherd be, Or whence y-comen, * that he thus welcome is, That thou art all so blithe to see his bliss?

Piers.

Palinode, thou makest a double demand, Which I will answer as I understand; Yet will I not forget, so God me mend, To pipe loud paeans as my stanzas end.

Io, io paean!

This shepherd, Palinode, whom my pipe praiseth, Whose glory my reed to the welkin raiseth, He's a great herdgroom, certes, but no swain, Save hers that is the flower of Phoebe's plain.

Io, io paean!

He waiteth where our great shepherdess doth wun, He playeth in the shade and thriveth in the sun; He shineth on the plains, his lusty flock him by, As when Apollo kept in Arcady;

Io, io paean!

Fellow in arms he was in their flow'ring days With that great shepherd, good Philisides, 3 And in sad fable did I see him dight, Moaning the miss of Pallas' peerless knight;

Io, io paean!

1 He comes. * Cp. the Charles Knight note, p. 242. 3 Sir Philip Sidney.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 295

With him he served, and watch'd and waited late, To keep the grim wolf from Eliza's gate; And for their mistress, thoughten these two swains, They moughten never take too mickle pains.

lo, io psean!

But, ah for grief! that jolly groom is dead, | For whom the Muses silver tears have shed; J 1 Yet in this lovely swain, source of our glee* Must all his virtues sweet reviven be:

Io, io paean!

Palinode.

Thou foolish swain that thus art over joy'd, How soon may here thy courage be accoy'd! If he be one come new from western coast, Small cause hath he, or thou for him, to boast.

I see no palm, I see no laurel boughs

Circle his temple or adorn his brows;

I hear no triumphs for this late return,

But many a herdsman more disposed to mourn.

Piers.

Pale look'st thou, like spite, proud Palinode; Venture doth loss, and war doth danger bode: But thou art of those harvesters, I see, Would at one shock spoil all the filberd-tree.

Io, io paean!

For shame, I say, give virtue honors due! I'll please the shepherd but by telling true; Palm mayst thou see and bays about his head, That all his flock right forwardly hath led;

Io, io paean!

1 Sir Philip Sidney.

2 In the year 1589, Peele was employed [and possible in daily contact] with the player Shakspere at the Blackfriars theatre.

296 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

But woe is me rude lad, fame's full of lies, Envy doth aye true honor's deeds despise; Yet chivalry will mount with glorious wings, Spite all, and nestle near the seat of kings.

lo, io paean!

Base thrall is he that is foul slander's slave: To pleasen all what wight may him behave? Yea, Jove's great son, though he were now alive, Mought find no way this labour to achieve.

Io, io paean!

O honor's fire, that not the brackish sea Mought quench, nor foeman's fearful 'larums lay! So high those golden flakes done mount and climb That they exceed the reach of shepherd's rhyme.

Io, io paean!

Palinode.

Honor is in him that doth it bestow; Thy reed is rough, thy seat is all too low To write such praise; hadst thou blithe Homers quill, Thou moughtst have matter equal with thy skill.

Piers.

Twit me with boldness, Palin, as thou wilt, My good mind be my glory and my guilt; Be my praise less or mickle, all is one, His high deserts deserven to be known.

Io, io paean!

George Peele, 1589.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 297

Scattered through the last decade of Elizabeth's reign are many poems of rare beauty signed Ignoto. As far as I have been able to gather, the use of this name ceased with the death of Essex in 1601. In Robert Chester's Love's Martyr "Ignoto" is the moving spirit; it is from Ignoto's lines Jonson, Chapman and Marston take their cue for the burning of the second Phoenix.

THE FIRST.

The silver vault of heaven, hath but one eie, And that's the Sunne: the foule-maskt Ladie, Night [Which blots the cloudes, the white booke of the skie,] But one sicke PJnvbe, fever-shaking light:

The heart, one string: so, thus in single turnes,

The world one Phoenix, till another burnes.

THE BURNING.

Suppose here burnes this wonder of a breath, In righteous flames, and holy-heated fires: [Like Musicke which doth rapt it selfe to death, Sweet'ning the inward roome of mans Desires;] So she wast's both her wings in piteous strife; The flame that eates her, feedes the others life:

Her rare-dead ashes, fill a rare-live urne:

One Phoenix borne, another Phoenix burne.

Ignoto in Love' s Martyr, p. 181.

In Love 's Martyr the above lines immediately pre- cede the poem of The Phcenix and Turtle Dove — i.e., The Dramatis Personse of The Masque of Love s Labor s Won, showing, almost conclusively, that Robert Chester's Love s Martyr is a posthumous work of Shake-speare. *

( 'Speaking generally, I do not rate Robert Chester as a poet very high, [p. Ixii. ] but a sympathetic reader will come, now and again, on "brave translunary things" [p. ixiii.]. There are touches and allusions throughout that I can explain alone by interchange of conversation between the Poet [Chester] and Essex [p. Ixvii.] and I think I can detect in some of his lines a reflex or re- membrance of the rhythm of Shakespeare's lines" [p. Ixvii.]. — Introduction to Loves Martyr, [Dr. Grosart, Ed.], 1878.

1 Cp. note from Saintsbury, p. 41, and Chester's lines, p. 75.

298 Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

THE NIGHTINGALE TO HIS MUSE.

And foul befall that Cursed Cuckoe's throt, That so hath crossed sweet Philomelaes note.

Poems of Essex.

As it fell upon a day,

In the merry month of May,

Sitting in a pleasant shade

Which a group of myrtles made,

Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,

Trees did grow, and plants did spring;

Every thing did banish moan,

Save the nightingale alone:

She, poor bird, as all forlorn,

Lean'd her breast against a thorn,

And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,

That to hear it was great pity:

'Fie, fie, fie,' now would she cry;

'Tereu, tereu'! by-and-by;

That to hear her so complain,

Scarce I could from tears refrain;

For her griefs, so lively shown,

Made me think upon mine own.

Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain!

None takes pity on thy pain:

Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee;

Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee:

King Pandion he is dead;1

All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;

All thy fellow birds do sing,

1 "Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late." That is

"Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell,

Than so himself to mockery to sell."

Spenser [Cp. p. 10] .

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 299

Careless of thy sorrowing,

Even so, poor bird, like thee,

None alive will pity me.

Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled,

Thou and I were both beguiled.

Every one that flatters thee

Is no friend in misery.

Words are easy, like the wind;

Faithful friends are hard to find:

Every man will be thy friend

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;

But if store of crowns be scant,

No man will supply thy want.

If that one be prodigal.

Bountiful they will him call,

And with such-like flattering,

'Pity but he were a king;'

If he be addict to vice,

Quickly him they will entice;

If to women he be bent,

They have at commandement:

But if Fortune once do frown,

Then farewell his great renown;

They that fawn'd on him before

Use his company no more.

He that is thy friend indeed,

He will help thee in thy need:

If thou sorrow, he will weep;

If thou wake, he cannot sleep;

Thus of every grief in heart

He with thee doth bear a part.

These are certain signs to know

Faithful friend from flattering foe.

Ignoto in Englands Helicon, 1600.

300 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

THE ROBIN.

Bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. — Ophelia.

Of all the birds that fly with wing,

The Robin hath no peere, For he in field and house can sing

And chant it all the year: This Robin is a pretty one,

Well form'd at point devise A mynion bird to look upon

And sure of worthy praise. His looks be brave, his voice full shrill,

His feathers bravely pruned, And all his members wrought at will,

With notes full trimly tuned.

The Nightingale will scarce be tame,

No company keep he can; He dare not show his face for shame;

He feareth the look of man: But Robin like a man can look,

And doth shun no place; He will sing in every nook,

And stare you in the face. He taketh bread upon the board,

And then away he goes; Wherefore, to tell you at a word,

His noble kind he shows.

1 Cp. note i, p. 298.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship.

301

They are but woodcocks that do frown,

At Robins hap so good: He hurts no bird in field or town,

In forest nor in wood, Although he steps from beam to bawlke,

And hops about the bed; When Peacocks1 proud about do walk,

With hearts as cold as lead. Yet Robin deserves praise therefore,

If he his merits have, That from the frost and winter sore,

His feathers so can save.

Now Robin, rattle forth thy song,

And make thy words to ring: I pray to God thou prosper long,

And all that so can sing. Fie on all foolish dastard birds,

That sing with cowards voice: They may be likened unto owls

Which nowhere can rejoice. As I have said, so say I still,

The Robin passeth all, That ever sang so at his will

Among'st us, great or small.

The Cam den Miscellany, [Vol. 3, p. 21.].

NOTE— The poem called "The Robin," refers covertly to Robert Earl of Essex. The production must have been penned by one of his friends or ad- herents, while he was in possession of the warmest regards of the Queen. She was in the habit of familiarly calling him her "Robin" and upon that point, and in praise of the habits and qualities of the bird, the production is founded. It must have possessed in its perfect state [as we may judge from the obviously mutilated copy before us] no little spirit and elegance. As we have never seen any other transcript of it, we have no means of correcting its errors, and it is much easier to detect the mistakes of the scribe, than to amend them. — Editor, Camden Society Miscellany, [Vol. 3, p. lo.J.

1 Cp. note 4, p. 237.

2 Cp. note i, frontispage 2.

302 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses^

THE SHEPHERD'S PRAISE OF HIS SACRED DIANA.1

Praised be Diana's fair and harmless light,

Praised be the dews wherewith she moists the ground,

Praised be her beams, the glory of the night,

Praised be her power, by which all powers abound.

Praised be her nymphs, with whom she decks the woods, Praised be her knights, in whom true honor lives, Praised be that force by which she moves the floods; Let that Diana shine which all these gives.

In heaven queen she is among the spheres, She mistress-like makes all things to be pure; Eternity in her oft change she bears; She beauty is, by her the fair endure.

Time wears her not, she doth his chariot guide; Mortality below her orb is placed; By her the virtue of the stars down slide, In her is virtue's perfect image cast.

A knowledge pure it is her worth to know;

With Circes let them dwell that think not so.

Ignoto in England' s Helicon, 1600 [Bulleii, Ed. , p. 127].

1 Probably these matchless lines were written in honor of the bragging Dame — not unexpert in cunning, who came to the relief of Shake-speare in 1591. The Diana of Ephesus, Cp The Argument, p. 23.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 303

AN HEROICAL POEM.

My wanton Muse that whilom wont to sing Fair beauty's praise and Venus' sweet delight, Of late had changed the tenor of her string To higher tunes than serve for Cupid's fight:

Shrill trumpets' sound, sharp swords, and lances strong, War, blood, and death, were matter of her song.

The god of love by chance had heard thereof,

That I was proved a rebel to his crown;

"Fit words for war," quoth he, with angry scoff,

"A likely man to write of Mars his frown.

Well are they sped whose praises he shall write, Whose wanton pen can nought but love indite."

This said, he whisk'd his party-colour'd wings, And down to earth he comes more swift than thought; Then to my heart in angry haste he flings, To see what change these news of wars had wrought. He pries, and looks, he ransacks ev'ry vein, Yet finds he nought, save love and lover's pain.

Then I that now perceived his needless fear, With heavy smile began to plead my cause: "in vain," quoth I, "this endless grief I bear, In vain I strive to keep thy grievious laws,

If after proof so often trust}' found,

Unjust suspect condemn me as unsound.

Is this the guerdon of my faithful heart?

Is this the hope on which my life is stay'd?

Is this the ease of never-ceasing smart?

Is this the price that for my pains is paid? Yet better serve fierce Mars in bloody field, Where death or conquest, end or joy doth yield.

' Long have I served, what is my pay but pain? Oft have I sued, what gain I but delay? M}r faithful love is quited with disdain, My grief a game, my pen is made a play;

Yea, love that doth in other favour find,

To me is counted madness out of kind,

304 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

"And last of all, but grievous most of all,

Thyself, sweet Love, hath kill'd me with suspect.

Could Love believe, that I from Love would fall?

Is war of force to make me Love neglect? No, Cupid knows my mind is faster set, Than that by war I should my love forget.

"My Muse indeed to war inclines her mind, The famous acts of worthy Brute to write; To whom the gods this island's rule assign'd, Which long he sought by seas through Neptune's spite: With such conceits my busy head doth swell, But in my heart nought else but love doth dwell-

"And in this war thy part is not the least;

Here shall my Muse Brute's noble love declare,

Here shalt thou see thy double love increased,

Of fairest twins that ever lady bare.

Let Mars triumph in armour shining bright, His conquer'd arms shall be thy triumph's light.

"As he the world, so thou shalt him .subdue,

And I thy glory through the world will ring,

So by my pains thou wilt vouchsafe to rue

And kill dispair." With that he whisk'd his wing,

And bid me write, and promised wished rest;

But sore I fear false hope will be the best.

* Ignoto.

This poem had previously appeared in Davison's Poetical Rhapsody, subscribed "A. W.," and headed "Upon an Heroical Poem which he had begun1 [in imitation of Virgil] of the first in- habiting of this famous isle by Brute and the Trojans." It is in the Oxford edition of Raleigh's Poems; but there is not the slight- est evidence to show that Raleigh was the author. There is an early MS. copy in Harleian MS. 6901 without a signatureV En- gland's Helicon [Bullen, Ed., 1887].

Ignoto was dead. Cp. p, 225.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 305

Happy where he could finish forth his fate

In some enchanted desert, most obscure

From all society, from love, from hate

Of worldly folk, then would he sleep secure;

Then wake again and yield God ever praise.

Content with hips and haws and bramble-berry,

In contemplation passing still his days,

And change of holy thoughts to make him merry;

And when he dies his tomb may be a bush,

Where harmless robin dwells with gentle thrush.

Poems of Essex.

To a worthy lord, now dead, * upon presenting him, for a new years gift, with Caesar's Commentaries and Cornelius Tacitus.

Worthily famous lord, whose virtues rare, Set in the gold of never-stain'd nobility," And noble mind shining in true humility, Make you admir'd of all that virtuous are:

If, as your sword with envy imitates

Great Caesar's sword in all his deeds victorious; So your learn'd pen would strive to be glorious, And write your acts perform 'd in foreign states;

Or if some one, with the deep wit inspired Of matchless Tacitus, would then historify, Then Caesar's works so much we should not glorify,

And Tacitus would be much less desired.

But till yourself, or some such put them forth,

Accept of these as pictures of your worth.

Francis Davison.

Probably the unfortunate Robert Earl of Essex, who, as is stated in the Memoir, was in some degree the patron of Erancis Davison. — Davison s Poetical Rhapsody, [Nicolas, Ed., 1826].

1 Ignoto was dead. Cp. note i, p. 304. . 20

306 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

THE SHEPHERD'S SLUMBER.,

In peascod time, when hound to horn

Gives ear till buck be kill'd, And little lads with pipes of corn

Sat keeping beasts a-field, I want to gather strawberries tho,

By woods and groves full fair; And parch'd my face with Phoebus so,

In walking in the air, That down I laid me by a stream,

With boughs all over-clad; And there I met the strangest dream

That ever shepherd had. Methought I saw each Christmas game,

Each revel all and some, And everything that I can name,

Or may in fancy come. The substance of the sights I saw

In silence pass they shall, Because I lack the skill to draw

The order of them all; But Venus shall not pass my pen,

Whose maidens in disdain Did feed upon the hearts of men

That Cupid's bow had slain. And that blind boy was all in blood,

Be-bathed up to the ears, And like a conqueror he stood,

And scorned lover's tears. "I have," quoth he, "more hearts at call

Than Caesar could command, And like the deer I make them fall,

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 307

That runneth o'er the land. One drops down here, another there;

In bushes as they groan, I bend a scornful careless ear,

To hear them make their moan." "Ah, sir," quoth Honest Meaning then,

"Thy boy-like brags I hear; When thou hast wounded many a man,

As huntsman doth the deer, Becomes it thee to triumph so?

Thy mother wills it not; For she had rather break thy bow,

Than thou shoud'st play the sot. " "What saucy merchant speaketh now?"

Said Venus in her rage; "Art thou so blind thou know'st not how

I govern every age ? My son doth shoot no shaft in waste,

To me the boy is bound ; He never found a heart so chaste,

But he had power to wound." "Not so, fair goddess," quoth Free-will,

"In me there is a choice; And cause I am of mine own ill

If I in thee rejoice. And when I yield myself a slave

To thee, or to thy son, Such recompense I ought not have,

If things be rightly done. " "Why, fool," stepp'd forth Delight and said,

"When thou art conquer'd thus, Then, lo! dame Lust, that wanton maid.

308 ' Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Thy mistress is, I wus. And Lust is Cupid's darling dear,

Behold her where she goes; She creeps the milk-warm flesh so near,

She hides her under close, WJiere many privy thoughts do dwell,

A heaven here on earth ; For they have -never mind of hell,

They think so much on mirth." 4 'Be still, Good Meaning, " quoth Good Sport,

"Let Cupid triumph make; For sure his kingdom shall be short,

If we no pleasure take. Fair Beauty, and her play-pheers gay,

The virgins vestal too, Shall sit and with their fingers play,

As idle people do. If honest meaning fall to frown,

And I good Sport decay, Thei] Venus' glory will come down

And they will pine away," "Indeed" quote Wit, "this your device

With strangeness must be wrought; And where you see these women nice,

And looking to be sought, With scrowling brows their follies check,

And so give them the fig; Let Fancy be no more at beck,

When Beauty looks so big. " When Venus heard how they conspired

To murther women so, Methought indeed the house was fired,

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 309

With storms and lightning tho. The thunderbolt through windows burst,

And in their steps a wight, Which seem'd some soul or spirit accurst,

So ugly was the sight. "I charge you, ladies all," quoth he,

"Look to yourselves in haste; For if that men so wilful be,

And have their thoughts so chaste, That they can tread on Cupid's breast,

And march on Venus' face, Then they shall sleep in quiet rest,

When you shall wail your case!" With that had Venus all in spite

Stirr'd up the dames to ire; And Lust fell cold, and Beauty white

Sat dabbling with Desire, Whose mutt'ring words I might not mark,

Much whispering there arose; The day did lower, the sun wax'd dark, .

Away each lady goes. But whither went this angry flock ?

Our Lord himselfe doth know. Wherewith full loudly crew the cock,

And I awaked so. A dream, quote I, a dog it is,

I take thereon no keep; I gage my head such toys as this

Doth spring from lack of sleep.

Ignoto in England ' s Helicon, Bullen, p. 222.

310 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

TO CYNTHIA.

My thoughts are wing'd with Hopes, my Hopes with

Love;

Mount Love unto the moon in clearest night, And say, as she doth in the heavens move, On earth so wanes and' waxeth my delight : And whisper this, but softly, in her ears, Hope oft doth hang the head and Trust sheds tears.

And you, my Thoughts, that seem mistrust to carry, If for mistrust my mistress you do blame, Say, though you alter, yet you do not vary, As she doth change and yet remain the same: Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect, And Love is sweetest season'd with Suspect.

If she for this with clouds do mask her eyes, And make the heavens dark with her disdain, With windy sighs disperse them in the skies, Or with thy tears derobe them into rain,

Thoughts, Hopes, and Love, return to me no more, Till Cynthia shine as she hath shone before.

Ignoto in England ' s Helicon 1600, Bullcn, p. 149.

' 'These verses have been ascribed to Shakespeare on the authority of a common-place book, which is preserved in the Hamburgh city library. In this the lines are subscribed W. S. and the copy is dated 1606. The little poem is quite worthy of Shakespeare's sonneteer- ing pen and period. The alliteration in sound and sense ; the aerial fancy moving with such a gravity of motion ; the peculiar corruscation that makes it hard to determine whether the flash be a sparkle of fancy or the twinkle of wit: are all characteristic proofs of its authorship. No other poet of the period save Spenser could have been thus measuredly extravagant, and he would not have dared the perilous turn on 'mistress' and 'mistrust. '

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 311

The line.

"And love is sweetest seasoned with suspect" surely comes from the same mint as

"The ornament of beauty is suspect." — Sonnet 6o-LXX., p. 85. also the line,

"And make the heavens dark with her disdain"

is essentially Shakspearian; one of those which occur at times, after threading the way daintily through intricate windings, sweeping out into the broader current with a full stroke of music and imagination, such as this from the 1 8th sonnet,

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade."

Then the 'windy sighs,' and the tears for rain are just as recognisable as a bit of the Greek mythology. Here is one of the Poet's pet trinckets of fancy. With him sighs and tears, 'poor fancy's followers !' are sorrow's wind and rain. ]

I have not the least doubt of the poem being Shak- speare's own, and my suggestion is that it was written for the Earl of Essex, at a time when the Queen, 'Cyn- thia , was not shining on him with her favouring smile, and that Essex had it set to music, by Douland, to be sung at Court. — Shakspeares Sonnets, Massey, pp. 466,

467-

1 "Storming her world with sorrozv's ivind and rain."

A Lover 's Lament. The winds thv sighs.

Romeo and Juliet, in. 5. "We cannot call her "winds and -waters, sighs and tears."

Antony and Cleopatra. "Where are my tears? Rain, rain, to lay this ivind."

Troilus and Cressida.

3 1 2 Shake-spectre England 's Ulysses,

AN INVECTIVE AGAINST LOVE.

All is not gold that shineth bright in show;

Not every flower so good as fair to sight;

The deepest streams above do calmest flow,

And strongest poisons oft the taste delight. The pleasant bait doth hide the harmful hook, And false deceit can lend a friendly look.

Love is the gold whose outward hue doth pass, Whose first beginnings goodly promise make Of pleasures fair and fresh as summer's grass, Which neither sun can parch nor wind can shake; But when the mould should in the fire be tried, The gold is gone, the dross doth still abide.

Beauty the flower so fresh, so fair, so gay, So sweet to smell, so soft to touch and taste, As seems it should endure, by right, for aye, And never be with any storm defaced;

But when the baleful southern wind doth blow, Gone is the glory which it erst did show.

Love is the stream whose waves so calmly flow, As might entice men's minds to wade therein; Love is the poison mix'd with sugar so, As might by outward sweetness liking win; But as the deep' o'erflowing stops thy breath, So poison once received brings certain death.

Love is the bait whose taste the fish deceives, And makes them swallow down the choking hook; Love is the face whose fairness judgement reaves, And makes thee trust a false and feigned look; But as the hook the foolish fish doth kill, So flattering looks the lover's life doth spill.

Jgnoto in England's Helicon, 1614, Prefatory Table. Signed "A W. " in Davisoris Poetical Rhapsody, 1602.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 313

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.

Come live with me, and be my dear, And we will revel all the year, In plains and groves, on hills and dales, Where fragrant air breeds sweetest gales.

There shall you have the beautious pine, The cedar, and the spreading vine; And all the woods to be a screen, Lest Phoebus kiss my summer's queen.

The seat of your disport shall be Over some river in a tree, Where silver sands and pebbles sing, Eternal ditties with the spring.

There shall you see the nymphs at play, And how the satyrs spend the day; The fishes gliding on the sands, Offering their bellies to your hands.

The birds, with their heavenly-tuned throats, Possess woods' echoes with sweet notes, Which to your senses will impart A music to inflame the heart.

Upon the bare and leafless oak, The ring doves' wooings will provoke A colder blood than you possess, To play with me and do no less.

314 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

In bowers of laurel, trimly dight, We will outwear the silent night; While Flora busie is to spread Her richest treasure on our bed.

Ten thousand Glowworms shall attend, And all their sparkling lights shall spend, All to adorn and beautify Your lodging with most majesty.

Then in mine arms will I enclose, Lily's fair mixture with the rose, Whose nice perfections in love's play Shall tune me to the highest key.

Thus as we pass the welcom e night In sportful pleasures and delight; The nimble fairies on the grounds Shall dance and sing melodious sounds.

If these may serve for to entice Your presence to Love's paradise, Then come with me and be my dear, And we will straight begin the year.

Ignoto in England's Helicon, 1600

[Bullen, Ed., p. 232]

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 3 1 5

THE NYMPH'S REPLY.

If that the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.

But time drives flocks from field to fold, When rivers rage, and rocks growr cold; And Philomel becometh dumb; The rest complain of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten; In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move, To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last and love still breed, Had joy no date, had age no need, Then these delights my mind might move, To live with thee and be thy love. Ignoto in England's Helicon, 1600 [Bullen, p. 231]

316 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

AN INVECTIVE AGAINST WOMEN.

Are women fair? Aye, wond'rous fair to see to; Are women sweet? Yea, passing sweet they be too: Most fair and sweet to them that inly love them; Chaste and discreet to all, save those that prove them.

Are women wise? Not wise, but they be witty: Are women witty? Yea, the more the pity: They are so witty, and in wit so wily, That be ye ne'er so wise, they will beguile ye.

Are women fools? Not fools, but fondlings many. Can women fond be faithful unto any ? When snow-white swans do turn to color sable. Then women fond will be both firm and stable.

Are women saints ? No saints, nor yet no devils. Are women good? Not good, but needful evils; So angel-like, that devils I do not doubt them; So needful ills, that few can live without them.

Are women proud ? Aye, passing proud, and praise them Are women kind? Aye, wond'rous kind, and please them Or so imperious, no man can endure them ; Or so kind-hearted, any may procure them.

Ignoto in Davisons Poetical Rhapsody, 1602 \_ATic- olas, Ed., 1826, p. 289].

Poems Bearing on tJie Authorship. 317

TRUE-LOVE'S KNOT.

Love is the link, the knot, the band of unity; And all that love, do love with their belov'd to be.

Love only did decree,

To change his kind in me.

For though I lov'd with all the powers of my mind, And though my restless thoughts their rest in her did find,

Yet are my hopes declin'd,

Sith she is most unkind.

For since her beauty's sun my fruitless hope did breed, By absence from that sun, I hop'd to starve that weed;

Though absence did indeed

My hopes not starve, but feed.

For when I shift my place, like to the stricken deer, I cannot shift the shaft, which in my side I bear:

By me it resteth there,

The cause is not elsewhere. So have I seen the sick to run and turn again, As if that outward change could ease his inward pain:

But still, alas! in vain,

The fit doth still remain.

Yet goodness is the spring from whence this ill doth grow, For goodness caus'd the love, which great respect did owe.

Respect true love did show:

True love thus wrought my woe.

Ignoto in Davisoris Poetical Rhapsody ^ 1602 [Nicolas Ed., 1826, p. 284].

318 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

THE UNKNOWN SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT.

My flocks feed not, my ewes breed not, My rams speed not, all is amiss: Love is denying; Faith is defying; Heart's renying, causer of this. All my merry jigs are quite forgot, All my lady's love is lost, God wot; Were her faith was firmly fix'd in love, There a nay is placed without remove.

One silly cross wrought all my loss;

O frowning fortune, cursed fickle dame!

For now I see inconstancy

More in women than in men remain.

In black mourn 1, all fears scorn I, Love hath forlorn me, living in thrall; Heart is bleeding, all help needing, O cruel speeding, fraughted with gall. M}^ shepherd's pipe can sound no deal, My wether's bell rings doleful knell. My curtail dog that wont to have play'd, Plays not at all, but seems afraid;

With sighs so deep, procures to weep,

In howling-wise to see my doleful plight.

How sighs resound, through heartless ground,

Like a thousand vanquished men in bloody fight.

Clear wells spring not, sweet birds sing not, Green plants bring not forth their dye; Herds stand weeping, flocks all sleeping, Nymphs back peeping fearfully. All our pleasure known to us poor swains, All our merry meeting on the plains, All our evening sports from us are fled, All our love is lost, for Love is dead.

Farewell, sweet Love, thy like ne'er was,

For sweet content, the cause of all my moan:

Poor Corydon must live alone;

Other help for him, I see that there is none.

Ignoto in England's Helicon, 1600.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 319

THE LOVER AND HIS LADY.

Lady, my flame still burning,

And my consuming anguish, Doth grow so great, that life I feel to languish:

Then let your heart be moved, To end my grief and yours, so long time proved; And quench the heat that my chief part so fireth, Yielding the fruit that faithful love requireth.

HER ANSWER.

Sweet Lord, your flame still burning,

And your consuming anguish, Cannot be more than mine, in which I languish;

Nor more your heart is moved. To end your grief and mine, so long time proved: But if I yield, and so your love decreaseth, Then I my lover lose, and your love ceaseth. !

Ignoto in Davisons Poetical Rhapsody.

AN UNREPENTANT LOVER.

To plead my faith, where faith hath no reward,

To move remorse where favor is not born:

To heap complaints where she doth not regard,

Were fruitless, bootless, vain and yield but scorn.

I loved her whom all the world admired,

I was refused of her that can love none:

And my vain hope which far too high aspired

Is dead and buried and for ever gone.

Forget my name since you have scorned my love, And womanlike do not too late lament: Since for your sake I do all mischief prove, I none accuse nor nothing do repent.

I was as fond as ever she was fair

Yet lov'd I not more than I now despair.

Poems of Essex,

1 Cp. note 2, p. 37 and all of p. 39.

320 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

SOCKLESS SHAKE-SPEARE.

There is none, oh ! none but you, Who from me estrange the sight, Whom mine eyes affect to view, And chain'd ears hear with delight.

'.-V

Other's beauties others move;

In you I all the graces find;

Such are the effects of love,

To make them happy that are kind.

Women in frail beauty trust; Only seem you kind to me! Still be truly kind and just, For that can't dissembled be.

Dear, afford me then your sight, That surveying all your looks, Endless volumes I may write, And fill the world with envied books.

Which, when after ages view, All shall wonder and despair, Women, to find a man so true. And men, a woman, half so fair.

Poems of Essex,

J Cp. note from Saintsbury, p. 41.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 321

A NYMPH'S DISDAIN OF LOVE.

"Hey, down, a down!" did Dian sing,

Amongst her virgins sitting; 1 'Than love there is no vainer thing,

For maidens most unfitting." And so think I, with a down, down, derry.

When women knew no woe,

But lived themselves to please, Men's feigning guiles they did not know,

The ground of their disease. Unborn was false suspect,

No thought of jealousy; From wanton toys and fond affect,

The virgin's life was free. "Hey, down, a down!" did Dian sing, &c.

At length men used charms,

To which what maids gave ear, Embracing gladly endless harms,

Anon enthralled were. Thus women welcomed woe,

Disguised in name of love, A jealous hell, a painted show:

So shall they find that prove. "Hey, down, a down!" did Dian sing,

Amongst her virgins sitting; ; 'Than love there is no vainer thing,

For maidens most unfitting." And so think I, with a down, down, derry. Ignoto in England's Helicon, 1600 [Bullen Ed., p. 152]

21

322

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

THE SHEPHERD'S DESCRIPTION OF LOVE.

Meliboeiis. Shepherd, what's Love, I pray thee tell? Faiistus. It is that fountain and that well,

Where pleasure and repentance dwell; It is perhaps that sauncing bell, That tolls all to heaven or hell: And this is love, as I heard tell. Meli. Yet what is Love, I prithee say? Faus. It is a work on holiday,

It is December match'd with May, When lusty bloods in fresh array Hear ten months after of the play: And this is Love as I hear say. Meli. Yet what is Love, goo'd shepherd, sain ? Faust. It is a sunshine mix'd with rain, It is a tooth-ache, or like pain, It is a game, where none doth gain; The lass saith no, and would full fain: And this is Love, as I hear sain. Meli. Yet shepherd, what is Love, I pray ? Faust. It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray, It is a thing will soon away, [may:

Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye And this is Love, as I hear say, Meli. Yet what is Love, good shepherd, show ? Faust. A thing that creeps, it cannot go, A prize that passeth to and fro, A thing for one, a thing for moe, And he that proves shall find it so: And, shepherd, this is Love, I trow. Ignoto in England's Helicon, Biillen, p. 106,

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 323

THE SHEPHERD TO THE FLOWERS.

Sweet violets, Love's paradise, that spread Your gracious odours, which you couched bear

Within your paly faces,

Upon the gentle wing of some calm breathing wind, That plays amidst the plain, If by the favour of propitious stars you gain Such grace as in my lady's bosom place to find,

Be proud to touch those places,

And when her warmth your moisture forth doth wear, Whereby her dainty parts are sweetly fed, Your honours of the flowery meads I pray, You pretty daughters of the earth and sun, With mild and seemly breathing straight display My bitter sighs, that have my heart undone,

Vermilion roses, that with new day's rise Display your crimson folds fresh-looking, fair,

Whose radiant bright disgraces The rich adorned rays of roseate rising morn.

Ah! if her virgin's hand

Do pluck your pure, ere Phoebus view the land, And veil your gracious pomp in lovely Nature's scorn;

If chance my mistress traces Fast by your flowers to take the Summer's air, Then, woeful blushing, tempt her glorious eyes,

To spread their tears, Adonis' death reporting, And tell Love's torments, sorrowing for her friend,

Whose drops of blood within your leaves consorting,

Report fair Venus' moans to have no end, Then may remorse, in pitying of my smart,

Dry up my tears, and dwell within her heart.

Ignoto in England's Hekicon, Bullen, p. 178,

324 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

LOVE'S SORROWS.

Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy:

Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend:

It shall be waited on with jealousy,

Find sweet beginning, but unsavory end; Ne'er settled equally, but high or low, That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.

It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud, Bud and be blasted, in a breathing-while; The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile: The strongest body shall it make most weak, Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak.

It shall be sparing and too full of riot, Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet, Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures; It shall be raging-mad and silly mild, Make the young old, the old become a child.

It shall suspect where is no cause of fear;

It shall not fear where it should most mistrust;

It shall be merciful and too severe,

And most deceiving when it seems most just;

Perverse it shall be where it shows most toward, Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.

It shall be cause of war and dire events,

And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire;

Subject and servile to all discontents,

As dry combustious matter is to fire:

Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy, They that love best their loves shall not enjoy.

Venus and Adonis.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 325

LOVE THE ONLY PRICE OF LOVE.

The fairest pearls that northern seas do breed,

For precious stones from eastern coasts are sold;

Nought yields the earth that from exchange is freed.

Gold values all, and all things value gold;

Where goodness wants an equal change to make, There greatness serves, or number place doth take,

No mortal thing can bear so high a price, But that with mortal thing it may be bought; The corn of Sicil buys the western spice; French wine of us, of them our cloth is sought.

No pearls, no gold, no stones, no corn, no spice,

No cloth, no wine, of love can pay the price,

What thing is love, which nought can countervail?

Nought save itself, ev'n such a thing is love.

All worldly wealth in worth as far doth fail,

As lowest earth doth yield to heaven above. Divine is love, and scorneth worldly pelf, And can be bought with nothing, but with self.

Such is the price my loving heart would pay; Such is the pay trw love doth claim as due. Thy due is love, which I, poor I, essay, In vain essay to quite with friendship true.

True is my love, and true shall ever be,

And truest love is far too base for thee.

Love but thyself, and love thyself alone, For, save thyself, none can thy love requite; All mine thou hast, but all as good as none, My small desert must take a lower flight.

Yet if thou wilt vouchsafe my heart such bliss,

Accept it for thy prisoner as it is.

Ignoto in England's Helicon [Bullen Ed., p. 250].

326 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

ECLOGUE.

Shepherd. . Pier dm an.

Shepherd.

Come, gentle herdman, sit by me,

And tune thy pipe by mine, Here underneath this willow tree,

To shield the hot sunshine; Where I have made my summer bower,

For proof of summer beams; And deck'd it up with many a flower,

Sweet seated by the streams; Where gentle Daphne once a day

These flow'ry banks doth walk, And in her bosom bears away

The pride of many a stalk; But leaves the humble heart behind,

That should her garland dight; And she, sweet soul! the more unkind

To set true loves so light: But whereas others bear the bell,

As in her favour blest, Her shepherd loveth her as well

As those whom she loves best.

Her dm an. Alas, poor pastor! I find

Thy love is lodg'd so high, That on thy flock thou hast no mind,

But feed'st a wanton eye. If dainty Daphne's looks besot

Thy doating heart's desire, Be sure, that far above thy lot

Thy liking doth aspire. To love so sweet a nymph as she,

And look for love again,

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 327

Is fortune fitting high degree,

Not for a shepherd's swain. For she of lordly lads becoy'd,

And sought of great estates; Her favour scorns to be enjoy'd

By us poor lowly mates. Wherefore I warn thee to be wise;

Go with me to my walk, Where lowly lasses be not nice;

There like and choose thy make: W'here are no pearls or gold to view,

No pride of silken sight, But petticoats of scarlet hue,

Which veil the skin snow-white. There truest lasses be to get

For love and little cost: There sweet desire is paid his debt,

And labour seldom lost.

Shepherd. No, herdman, no! thou rav'st too loud,

Our trade so vile to hold; My weed as great a heart doth shroud,

As his that's clad in gold. And take the truth that I thee tell,

This song fair Daphne sings, That Cupid will be served as well

Of shepherds as of kings. For proof whereof, old books record

That Venus, queen of love, Would set aside her warlike lord,

And youthful pastor's prove; How Paris was as well beloved

As simple shepherd's boy, As after when that he was proved

King Priam's son of Troy. And therefore have I better hope,

328 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

As had those lads of yore: My courage takes as large a scope,

Although their haps were more. And that thou shalt not deem I jest,

And bear a mind more base, No meaner hope shall haunt my breast

Than dearest Daphne's grace. My mind no other thought retains;

Mine eye nought else admires; My heart no other passion strains,

Nor other hap desires. My muse of nothing else entreats,

My pipe nought else doth sound, My veins no other fever heats,

Such faith's in shepherds found.

Herdman. Ah! shepherd, then I see, with grief,

Thy care is past all cure; No remedy for thy relief,

But patiently endure. Thy wonted liberty is fled,

Fond fancy breeds thy bane, Thy sense of folly brought abed,

Thy wit is in the wane. I can but sorrow for thy sake,

Since love lulls thee asleep; And whilst out of thy dream thou wake,

God shield thy straying sheep! Thy wretched flock may rue and curse

This proud desire of thine, Whose woeful state from bad to worse

Thy careless eye will pine. And even as they, thyself likewise

With them shall wear and waste To see the spring before thine eyes,

Thou thirsty canst not taste. ^

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 329

Content thee, therefore, with conceit,

Where others gain the grace; And think thy fortune at the height,

To see but Daphne's face. Although thy truth deserved well

Reward above the rest, Thy haps shall be but means to tell

How other men are blest. So, gentle shepherd, farewell now!

Be warned by my reed; For I see written in thy brow, Thy heart for love doth bleed. Yet longer with thee would I stay,

If aught would do thee good: But nothing can the heat allay, Where love inflames the blood.

Shepherd. Then, herdman, since it is my lot,

And my good liking such, Strive not to break the faithful knot

That thinks no pain too much: For what contents my Daphne best

I never will despise, So she but wish my soul good rest

When death shall close mine eyes. Then, herdman, farewell once again,

For now the day is fled: So might thy cares, poor shepherd's swain,

Fly from thy careful head. Ignoto in Davison s Poetical Rhapsody1 [Nichols Ed.,

p. 78].

1 Francis Davison, son of the famous Secretary of state, published a poetical miscellany in 1602, under the title of Davison s Poems, or a Poetical Rhapsody, containing small pieces by the author himself, by his brother Walter, by a friend whom he calls Anomos, by Sir John Davis, the Countess of Pembroke, Sir P. Sidney etc. A second edition appeared in 1608, a third in 1611, and a fourth in 1621.— Ellis, Vol. III. p. n.

330 Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

DISPRAISE OF LOVE AND LOVERS' FOLLIES.

If love be life, I long to die,

Live they that list for me; And he that gains the most thereby,

A fool at least shall be; But he that feels the sorest fits, 'Scapes with no less than loss of wits.

Unhappy life they gain

Which love do entertain.

In day by feigned looks they live,

By lying dreams in night. Each frown a deadly wound doth give,

Each smile a false delight. If 't hap their lady pleasant seem, It is for other's love they deem;

If void she seem of joy,

Disdaine doth make her cov.

Such is the peace that lovers find.

Such is the life they lead, Blown here and there with every wind,

Like flowers in the mead; Now war, now peace, now war again, Desire, despair, delight, disdain;

Though dead, in midst of life;

In peace, and yet at strife.

Ignoto in England's Helicon, Bullen, p. 226.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 331

A DEFIANCE TO DISDAINFUL LOVE.

Now have I learn'd with much ado at last

By true disdain to kill desire;

This was the mark at which I shot so fast,

Unto this height I did aspire. Proud Love, now do thy worst and spare not, For thee and all thy shafts I care not.

What hast thou left wherewith to move my mind?

What life to quicken dead desire ? I count thy words and oaths as light as wind,

I feel no heat in all thy fire. Go change thy bow, and get a stronger; Go break thy shafts, and buy thee longer.

In vain thou bait'st thy hook with beauty's blaze,

In vain thy wanton eyes allure; These are but toys for them that love to gaze,

I know what harm thy looks procure. Some strange conceit must be devised, Or thou and all thy skill despised.

Ignoto1 in England's Helicon [Bullen Ed., p. 254]

1 For Ignoto's lovable or companionable qualities with his fellow poets, see the poem, p. 140. These Verses to the conceit of The Faery Queen I con- sider a most valuable touch of the man Shake-speare. It shows him in the char- acter of "Homerus, the Joiner," which he undoubtedly was in more ways than one. It has always been a pet theory of mine that there would have been no Elizabethan era in our literature had not Shake-speare been heir to the crown -"the one preeminent man" set the fashion, this is borne out by the Players clam-like retirement at Stratford and the fact that not a line can be shown from his pen subsequent to the death of Essex.

332 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

PHYLLIDA'S LOVE-CALUTO HER CORYDON, AND HIS REPLYING.

Phyl. Cory don, arise, my Cory don!

Titan shineth clear. Cor. Who is it that calleth Corydon ?

Who is it that I hear? Phyl. Phyllida, my true love, calleth thee,

Arise then, arise- then,

Arise and keep thy flock with me! Cor. Phyllida, my true love, is it she ?

I come then, I come then,

I come and keep my flock with thee.

Phyl. Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon;

Eat them for my sake. Cor. Here 's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,

Sport for thee to make.

Phyl. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk, To knit thee, to knit thee,

A pair of stockings white as milk. Cor. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat, To make thee, to make thee, A bonnet to withstand the heat.

Phyl. I will gather flowers, my Corydon,

To set in thy cap, Cor. I will gather pears, my lovely one,

To put in thy lap.

Phyl. I will buy my true love garters gay, For Sundays, for Sundays,

To wear about his legs so tall. Cor. I will buy my true love yellow say, For Sundays, for Sundays,

To wear about her middle small.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 333

Phyl. When my Gprydon sits on a hill

Making melody— Cor. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,

Singing cheerily— Phyl. Sure methinks my true love doth excel

For sweetness, for sweetness,

Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight. Cor. And methinks my true love bears the bell

For clearness, for clearness,

Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.

Phyl. Had my Cory don, my Cory don,

Been, alack! her swain — Cor. Had my lovely one, my lovely one,

Been in Ida plain— Phyl. Cynthia Endymion had refused,

Preferring, preferring,

My Corydon to play withal. Cor. The queen of love had been excused

Bequeathing, bequeathing, My Phyllida the golden ball.

Phyl. Yonder comes my mother, Corvdon,

Whither shall I fly? Cor. Under yonder beech, my lovely one,

While she passeth by. Phyl. Say to her thy true love was not here ;

Remember, remember,

To-morrow is another day. Cor. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear;

Farewell then; farewell then Heaven keep ouc loves alway.

Iguoto in England 's Helicon, Bulln, p. 90.

334 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

THE FALSE FORGOTTEN.

Change thy mind since she doth change, Let not fancy still abuse thee: Thy untruth can not seem strange When her falsehood doth excuse ye. Love is dead and thou art free, She doth live but dead to thee.

When she loved thee best a while,

See how still she did delay thee;

Using shows for to beguile,

Those vain hopes which have betrayed ye. Now thou seest but all too late, Love loves truth, which women hate.

Love farewell, more dear to me, Than my life which thou preservest. Life, thy joy is gone from thee, Others have what thou deservest:

They enjoy what 's not their own

Happier life to live alone.

Yet thus much to ease my mind, Let her know what she hath gotten: She who time hath proved unkind, Having changed is quite forgotten. For time now hath done her worst, Would she had done so at first.

Love no more since she is gone, She is gone, and loves another: Being once deceived bv one, Leave to love and love no other.

She was false, bid her adieu,

She was best but yet untrue.

Poems of Essex.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 335

THE BUZZING BEES COMPLAINT

— OR—

THE HONEY-TONGUED SHAKE-SPEARE.1

There was a time when silly bees could speak, And in that time, I was a silly bee, Who suck'd on time, until my heart did break, Yet never found that time would favor me: Of all the swarm I only could not thrive, Yet brought I wax and honey to the hive.

Then thus I buzz'd when time no sap would give:

Why is this blessed time to me so dry?

Since in this time the lazy drone doth live,

The wasp, the worm, the gnat, the butterfly, Mated with grief I kneeled on my knees, And thus complained to the king of bees.

God grant my liege thy time may never end, And yet vouchsafe to hear my plaint of time, When every fruitless fly hath found a friend I Am I cast down, whilst attomies do clyme ? ) 2 The king replied but this; "peace peevish bee, Th' art born to serve the time, the time not thee."

"The time not thee:" the words dipt short my wings,

And made me worm-like stoop that once did fly:

Awful regard disputeth not with kings,

Receives repulse, and never asketh why:

Then from the time, a time I me withdrewe, ) To suck on hen-bane, hemlock, nettles, rewe. f 3

1 They talk of the honey-tongued Shakespeare, but they do not tell us who the honey-tongued Shakespeare was. — The Mystery of William Shakespeare, Judge Webb.

2 The player Shakspere.

3 Cp. note i, p. 298.

336 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

But from these leaves no dram of sweet I drain, My headstrong fortune did my wits bewitch, The juice disperst black blood in every vein, | For honey, gall; for wax, I gathered pitch; |

My comb, a rift; my hive, a lease must be;

So chang'd, the bees scarce took me for a bee.

I work in weeds, when moon is in the wane,

Whilst all the swarm in sunshine taste the rose;

On black-fern, loe! I seek and suck my bane;

Whilst on the eglantine the rest repose,

Having too much, they still repine for more, And cloyed with sweetness, surfeit on their store.

Swollen fat with feasts, full merrily they pass,

In swarms and clusters falling on a tree,

Where finding me to nibble on the grass,

Some scorn, some muse and some do pity me. And some me envy, and whisper to the king, ''Some must be still, and some must leave no sting."

Are bees waxt wasp's and spiders, to afflict ? ]

Do honey bowels make the spirits gall?

Is this the juice of flowers, to stir suspect?

Is't not enough to tread on them that fall ? What sting has patience, but a single grief, That stings nought but itself, without relief.

1 The play of Hamlet. Cp. the argument, p. 21.

"Seneca Let blood line by line, and page by page, at length must die to our stage." — Nash on Hamlet. Cp. p. 208.

2 "Phaeton to his friend Florio." Cp. p. 169.

Poems Bearing on the Aiithorship. 337

Sad patience, that attendeth at the door, And teacheth wise-men thus conclude in schools: Patience I am, and therefore must be poor; Fortune bestowes her riches not on fools, 1

' 'Great king of bees ! that righteth every wrong,

Listen to patience in her dying song."

I cannot feed on fennel, like some flies,

Nor fly to every flower to gather gain;

My appetite waits on my Prince's eyes,

Contented with contempt, and pleased with pain; And yet I still expect an happy hower, When she shall say "The bee may suck a flower."

Of all the grief's that most my patience grate, There's one that fretteth in the highest degree, To see some caterpillars bred of late, Cropping the flowers that should sustain the bee: Yet smiled I, for that the wisest knows, Moths eat the cloth, cankers consume the rose.

Once did I see by flying in the field,

Foul beasts to browse upon the lilies fair;

Virtue nor beauty could no succor yield,

All's provender to the ass but the air;1

The partial world of thee takes little heed,

And gives them flowers that should on thistles feed.

1 The player Shakspere.

22

338 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Thus only I must drain the Egyptian flowers, Finding no savor; bitter sap they have, And seek out rotten tombs, the dead man's bowers, And light on Lotus growing by the grave,

If this I cannot find, ah! hapless bee,

Witching tobacco; I will fly to thee!

What though thou dye my lungs in deepest black,

A mourning habit suits a sable heart:

What though thy fumes sound memories do crack,

Forgetfulness is fittest for my smart,

O virtuous fume, let it be carved on oke,

That words, hopes, wits, and all the world is smoke.

Five years twice told, with promise unperformed, * My hope-stufl'd head was cast into a slumber; Sweet dreams of gold; on dreams I then presumed, And 'mongst the bees thought I was of their number, Waking, I found hives, but hopes had made me vain, Yet 'twas not tobacco that stupified my brain.

'Poems of Essex. ~

1 The Btizzing Bees Complaint "is said to have been written during his first discontentment and absence from Court in July, August 1598." — Lives of 77u' Earls of Essex, Devereux, Vol. II., p. 194.

The "promise," then, was made in the Armada year 15.88 —

Let the world take note,

You are the most immediate to our throne. Hamlet, i. 2, 1589.

2 Like the play of Hamlet, this poem is alive with venom, hence, inten- sely dramatic; had our critics onlv knozvn that it was Shake-speare at his best, it would, long since, have been lauded to the skies, truly "nothing can be great except through the general." As to the beauty of individual lines, Professor Saintsbury is committed [in a measure] to the first quatrain of Sonnet cxvi. [p. 129] . I will match him with the first four lines of the Essex Sonnet, frontis- page 7, then the entire fourteen liner, p. 170, has the true Shake-spearian ring, and the Phaeton Sonnet, p. 169, is not bad.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship. 339

The victorie of English Chastitie, '

Under the fained name of A VISA.*

FOr beauties Ball, in Three Nimphes at once, did once contend, The Princely Shep/icard of the Dale, By judgement did the quarrell end: That Paris might faire Hellen have, The Golden Price to Venus gave.

In Sea-bred soyle, on Tempe downes, Whose silver spring, from Neptunes Well, With mirth salutes the neighbour townes, A hot Contention lately fell:

Twice two sweet Graces, urge the strife, Of two which was the Constant1 st wife.

Faire Venus vaunts Penelops fame

From Greece, from listes of Lavin Land

Proud Juno stoutly doth the same,

Whose prayse in princely wealth doth stand:

They both condemne Diana's choyce,

That to Aviso* gave her voyce.

Then

1 Their love [The Masque and The Dramatis Pcrsome of the Masque] was married chastity. Cp. 1. 9, Threnos, p. 259; also lines from Henry VIII., p. 260.

a The heading is copied verbatim from Willobie* s Avisa, p. 149. [The Spen- ser Society Reprint of the 1635 Edition.]

3 Allegory for The Masque of Love 's Labor's \Von. Cp. the "fhcem'xbird," note i, p. 342 and sub-note i, p. 40.

340

Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

Then came the pale Athenian Muse,

Whose learned wisdome past them all,

She with Diana did refuse

The Grecians prayse: though Juno call, Chaste Wit to Wealth here will not yeeld: Nor yet to strangers leave the field:

Contention.

A noble man of Greece, not farre from Heli- con.

Whil'st Eris flasht these fretting flames,

A Noble prince in Rosie borne,

Roger o hight, to Angry dames,

His flying steed, and pace did turne, Which done they all did straight agree, That this Roger o, Judge should be.

On flowrie bancks, this Councell pla'st, From jealous Juno's envious eyes, Long smothered hate flames forth at last, In furious smoakes of angry cries: As though she had the Garland wan, With scoffing termes, she thus began.

The Oration of Juno a- gainst En- glish Chasti- ty under the name of A vis a.

,, Stoop Grecian trumpes, cease Romans prayse,

,, Shut up with shame, your famous dames;

,, Sith we our selves Base Hritans rayse

,, To over-Top their chiefest fames:

,, With Noble faith what madnesse dare

,, Such Novell guestes and faith compare?

,, Penelope must now contend

,, For chaste renowne: whose constant heart.

,, Both Greeks and Latines all commend

,, With poore Avis a new upstart,

,, I scorne to speake much in this case,

,, Her prayses Rivall is so base.

Pe-

Poems Bearing on the Authorship.

341

Penelope sprang from Noble house, By Noble match, twice Noble made, A visa, both by Syre and spouse, Was linckt to men of meanest trade:1 What furie forc't Diana's wit, To match these two so farre unfit?

The Grecian dame of princely peeres

Twice fifty flatly did denie:

Twice ten yeeres long in doubtfull feares,

Could new A visa so reply?

And she that is so stout and strong, Could she have staid but halfe so long?

Fie, leave for shame, thus to commend, So base a Britainc, shall I speake? I thinke these Muses did intend, To blow a glasse that should not breake: Here Venus smilde, and Juno staid, Judge now (quoth she) for I have said.

When Pallas heard this rufling rage, These toying jestes, this false surmise- Shee paws'd which way she might asswage, The flame that thus began to rise, With setled grace and modest eye, Thus did shee frame her milde reply.

Thou princely Judge here maist thou see, What force in Error doth remaine, In Envious Pride what fruits there be, To writhe the paths, that lie so plaine: A double darkness drownes tJie mind, Whom selfe will make so wilfull blind.

The reply of Pallas a- gainst funo in defence of A vis a.

Can

1 Cp. note i, frontispage 2.

2 Cp. the dualism's of the exposition, p. 28.

342

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Can Britaine breede no Phoenix bird,1 No constant feme in English field? To Greece to Rome, is there no third, Hath Albion none that will not yeeld? If this affirme you will not dare, Then let me Faith with Faith compare.

Willoby des- cribed no particular woman, but only Chastity and faith it selfe under the name of A visa.

Let choyce respecl of Persons slide Let Faith and Faith a while contend, Urge not the Names till cause be tride, Tis only Faith, that we commend,

We strive not for Aviso's fame.

We recke not of Aviso's name. •

To prove him vaine, that vainely strives, That Chastity is no where found, In English earth, in British wives, That all are fickle, all unsound,

We framde a wench, we fain 'd a name, That should confound them all with shame.

Chastity is termed A- visa quasi Non Visa, aut ab Ave Altivolanto.

,, To this at first you did consent,

„ And lent with joy your helping hand,

,, You both at first were well content,

,, This fained frame should firmely stand,

,, We to Diana gave the maide, )

,, That she might no way be betraid. ) 3

,, The mounting Phcrnix, chast desire, \ ,, This Vertue fram'd, to conquer Vice, j 4 ,, This Not-seene Nimp/i, this heatlesse fire, ,, This Chast found Bird, of noble price, ,, Was nam'de Aviso by decree, ,, That Name and nature might agree.

If

1 Allegory, the Sonnets of 1609, a dismantled Masque. Cp. sub-note i, p. 40. 8 Cp. notes from Messrs. Gollancz and Lee, pp. 48, 49.

8 Mother Nature herself a dramatist. Cp. the Diana poem, p. 302, and all of frontispage 10.

4 Cp. the sensual line of the Dramatis Personce, p. 253.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship.

343

If this Avisa represent,

Chast Vertite in a fained name,

If Chastity it selfe be ment,

To be extold with lasting fame;

Her Greekish gemme can Juno dare,

With this Avisa to compare?

Let wise Ulysses constant mate,

Vaunt noble birth her richest boast,

Yet will her challenge come too late,

When Pride and wealth have done their most,

For this Avisa from above

Come down whose Syre, is might}7 Jove.2

How can you terme her then Obscure, That shines so bright in every eye? How is she base that can endure, So long, so much and mounts so hie?

If she you meane, have no such power,

Tis 37our Avisa, none of our.

This not scene bird, though rarely found, In proud attire, in gorgeous gownes, Though she love most the countrie ground, And shunnes the great and wealthy townes, Yet if 3"ou know a bird so base, In this Device she hath no place.

Was Greekish dame twice ten yeares chast,

Did she twice fiftie flat deny?

Avisa hath Ten thousand past,

To thousands daily doth repl}-, If your Avisa have a blot, Your owne it is, we know her not.

?) Chastity is the gift of " God.

True Chasti- ty is sooner and oftner found in the poorest then in the richest.

Chastity is daily assaul- ted a thou- sand wayes yet it still getteth the victorie.

Some

"So you of time shall live beyond the end." Cp. Draytori1 s Sonnet, 1. 14, p. 246.

2 Cp. note 2, p. 237.

344 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

,, Some greatly doubt your Grecian dame ,, Where all be true that Poets faine: ,, But Chastity who can for shame, ,, Denie she hath, and will remaine. ,, Though women daily doe relent. Yet this A visa cannot faint.

,, She quels by Reason filthy lust, The effects, ,, Shee chokes by IVisdome leude Desires

°futrue. ., Shee shunnes the baite that Fondlings trust, Cnastitie.

,, From Sathans fleights she quite retires,

,, Then let Aviso's prayse bee spread,

,, When rich and poore, when all are dead.

,, Let idle vaine, and Flewent Rigges,

,, Be Cant on' de with eternall shame,

,, Let blowing buddes of blessed twigges,

,, Let Chast-Avisa live with fame:

,, This said, Sweet Pallas takes her rest,

,, Judge Prince (quoth she) what you thinke best.

The sen- But wise Rogero pawsing staid,

tenceof Ro- whose silence seem'd to shew some doubt,

gero against

Juno. Yet this at last he gravely said,

Ye Nimphes that are so faire, so stout, Sith I your Judge to Judge must be, Accept in worth, this short decree.

,, The question is, where Grecian Ghost, ,, Can staine the stemme of Troy an race: ,, Where Ithac Nimphes may onely boast, ,, And Brittish Faith account as base, ,, Where old Penelops doubtfull fame, ,, Selfe Chastity may put to shame?

1 Cp. notes, p. 37.

Poems Bearing on the Authorship.

345

I count Ulysses happy Then,

I deeme our selves as happy Now,

His wife denide all other men,

I know them yet that will not bow,

For Chastity I durst compare,

With Greece, with Rome, with who that dare.

Our English earth such Angels breeds, As can disdaine all Forraine prayse, For Learning, IVit, for sober Deeds, All Europe Dames may learne their waves: Sith I of both may take my choyce, Our Not-seene Bird shall have my voyce.

» England for

Chastitie

may yet » compare with

any country

in the world.

Sweet e Chastity shall have my hand, In England found, though rarely seene, Rare Chastitie, To this 1 stand, Is still as firme, as erst hath beene: While this A visa is the shee, This Chast desire shall Victor be.

u Conclusion.

The Rose appeares in Venus face, Vermillion dies pale Juno's cheekes, They both doe blush at this disgrace, But Juno chiefe, something mislikes, As though she felt some inward touch, That for her Greeke had spoke so much.

FINIS.

Thomas Willoby Frater Henrici Willoby nu- per defuncti.

For further data bearing on Willobie' 's Amsat cp. pp. 25, 35, 42, 48 and 49.

MONKS OF MONKERY1

— OR—

OF FORMER READINGS OF THE SONNETS.

"You shall find them seren, cleere and elegantly plaine, such gentle straines as shall recreate and not perplexe your braine, no intricate2 or cloudy stuffe to puzzell intellect, but perfect eloquence. "- —Preface, Ben- sons Edition of The Sonnets, 1640.

' The great poetical lawgiver of the days of George III. — pronounced that the Sonnets were too bad even for his genius to make tolerable. He, Steevens, sent forth his decree that nothing less than an Act of Parli- ament could compel the reading of Shakespeare's Son- nets. "- - Works of Shakspere, Charles Knight, p. 674.

"A strenuous endeavor not to read the sonnets has recently been made by a German, named BarnstorfT, and it is out of sight more successful than any attempt yet made to read them. It is so immeasurably far- reaching, so unfathomably profound, that we may call it perfectly successful. This author has discovered that the sonnets are a vast Allegory, for they do not speak to beings of flesh and blood, 3 no Earls of Southampton or Pembroke, no Queen Elizabeth or Elizabeth Vernon, no corporeal being, in short, no body whatever, but Shakespeare's own genius or art. "--Shakespeare s Son- nets, Gerald Mass ey, p. 17.

1 With Uncle Sam's compliments to Mr. J. B. Swinburne, cp. his Studies it, Shakespeare, p. 214.

2 Cp. the Italian Lord's Cretan labyrinth, p. 146.

3 Barnstorff is right

"God, Man nor Woman, but elix'd of all." John Marston. Cp. pp. 254, 265.

Monks of Monkery. 347

"As late as 1797 George Chalmers strenuously ar- gued that the Sonnets were written to, or meant for, Queen Elizabeth; and not until about the beginning of the present century did a decided change of opinion take place. " —A New Study of The Sonnets of Shakespeare, Parke Godwin^ p. 39.

"Having thus determined that Elizabeth was the 'Phoenix,'1 I proceed now to inquire who was intended by the 'Turtle Dove;'1 and the whole bearing of the Poems, make us think of but one preeminent man in the Court of Elizabeth, and unless I err egregiously, it will be felt that only of the brilliant but impetuous, the greatly do\vered but rash, the illustrious but unhappy Robert Devereux, Second Earl of Essex, could such splendid things have been thought. "-—Loves Martyr, [Dr. Grosart's Ed. 1878.] p. xxxiv., xxxv.

"It has scarcely ever been doubted, among critics, that the sonnets, smaller poems, and plays were the work of one and the same author; the similitudes of thought, style, and diction are such as to put at rest all question on that head; though many have experienced insurmountable difficulties in the attempt to reconcile the sonnets with the life of the man William Shake- speare .... Many of them show the strongest internal evidence of their having been addressed to the Queen, as they no doubt were. l Bacon tells us, that 'she was very willing to be courted, wooed, and to have sonnets made in her commendation. ' - The Authorship of Shakespeare, Judge Holmes, Vol. I., p. 187.

1 Cp. p. 255.

348 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

' 'Upon Shakespeare's Sonnets such a preposterous pyramid of presumptious commentary has long since been reared by the Cimmerian speculation and Boeotian 'brain-sweat' of sciolists1 and scholiasts, that no mod- est man will hope and no wise man will desire to add to the structure or substract from it one single brick of proof or disproof, theorum or theory. "-—^4 Study of Shakespeare, Swinburne, p. 62.

"Scorn not the sonnet, Critic, you have frowned Mindless of its just honours. With this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart-"

Wordsworth.

With this same key

Shakespeare unlocked his heart' — once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!"

Browning.

"No whit the less like Shakespeare, but undoubtedly the less like Browning."— Swin burne.

'The Phoenix and the Dove,3 or Turtle, where the Phoenix represents constancy — I suppose from its ever returning after death to its 'sun bright seats, ' [as the old Anglo-Saxon poet calls them] and the Turtle-dove represents true love. It has more complex ideas in it, for the number of words, than perhaps any other poem in our language, and it takes some diligence of mind, with the poem before your eyes, to make out all its meaning. For a certain far-withdrawn and heart- conquering tenderness, we have not another poem like it."-—Shakspere and His Forerunners, Sidney Lanicr, Vol. I., p. 94.

1 Cp. note i, p. 346. : "O Caesar! thou art mighty yet." 3 Cp. p. 255.

Monks of Monkery. 349

"No vainer fancies this side of madness ever entered the human mind, than certain expositions of the Sonnets of Shakespeare. The very initials of the dedicatee 4W. H.' have had volumes written about them; the Sonnets themselves have been twisted and classified in every conceivable shape. The persons to whom they are addressed, or to whom they refer, have been iden- tified with half the gentlemen and ladies of Elizabeth's court, and half the men of letters of the time; some of them are evidently, addressed to a man, others to a wo- man. For my part I am unable to find the slightest in- terest or the most rudimentary importance in the ques- tions whether the 4Mr. W. H.' of the dedication was the Earl of Pembroke, and if so, whether he was also the object of the majority of the Sonnets; whether the 'dark lady' the 'woman colored ill' was Miss Mary Fitton; whether the rival poet was Chapman. l Very likely all these things are true: very likely not one of them is true. They are impossible of settlement, and if they were set- tled they would not in the slightest degree affect the po- etical beauty and the Jiuman interest of the Sonnets.

Hallam thought it impossible not to wish that Shake- speare had not wrritten, what some critics, not perhaps the least qualified, have regarded as the high water- mark of English, if not of all, poetry. This latter es- timate will only be dismissed as exaggerated by those wrho are debarred from appreciation by want of sympa- thy with the subject, or distracted by want of compre- hension of it. " — History of English Literature,

Geo, Saints bury, p. 161.

1 Cp, p. 130,

350 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

"In 1601, Shakespeare's full name was appended to 'a poetical essaie on the Phoenix and the Turtle.' The poem may be a mere play of fancy without recondite intention, or it may be of allegorical import. Happily Shakespeare wrote nothing else of like character."- . / Life of Shakespeare, Sidney Lee, p. 183.

"I advise caution in accepting the theory, as at present developt, that the Phoenix and Turtle are Eliz- abeth and Essex, for it may lead them into the mixture of the man who next week went last month to find a mares nest. "-— F. /. Furntval, AV?v Shake Soc., Series i, Vols. V.-VIL, p. 88.

"The supreme object of Shakespeare's Sonnets was to aid in getting Southampton married, and see him safe in Mistress Vernons' arms, encompassed with content. This is the be-all and end-all of his song; his one theme with many variations. " —Shakespeare s Sonnefs, (Herald Massey, p. 286.

"Strange as is may seem, it is nevertheless the fact, that during the first eighty years of the eighteenth century the Sonnets were taken as being all addressed to a wo- man, all written in honour of Shakespeare's mistress. It was not till 1780 that M alone and his circle pointed out that more than one hundred of the poems were ad- dressed to a man Not until the beginning of the

nineteenth century did people in general understand, what Shakespeare s contemporaries can never have doubt- ed, 1 that the first hundred and twenty-six Sonnets were inspired by a young mate." —Shakespeare, A Critical Study, Geo. Hrandes, p. 266.

1 Cp. all of frontispage 3.

Monks of Monkery. 351

'It was doubtless to Shakespeare's personal re- lations with men and women of the Court that his son- nets owe their existence.' .... Sonnet cvn.,1 in which plain reference is made to Queen Elizabeth's death, may be fairly regarded as a belated and final act of ho- mage on Shakespeare's part to the importunate vogue of the Elizabethan sonnet. "—A Life of Shakespeare, Lee, pp. 83, 87.

The god of Grace to Mother Nature?

"The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use, And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; So him I lose through my unkind abuse.'"

"Abuse of his [Shakespeare's] good-nature, which has turned out ill for him. The metaphor of this, and other sonnets, is reminiscent of the straits to which the poet's father reduced himself and his friends who went surety for him to the baker. " —Shakespeare s Poems, Wyndham, p. 327.

' 'In the sonnets he [Shakespeare] had already dwrelt upon his age, he says, for instance in Sonnet CXXXVIIL,"

\JFather Time to Tfie goddess Envy. "^

When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies That she might think me some untutor'd youth Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue.

A Critical Study, Brandes, p. 472.

1 Cp, p, 121. 2 Cp. p. 103. 3 Cp. p. 60.

352 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

"The 'sweet abandonment of love' was the great occupation of Shakespeares life . . . He had many loves, amongst others one for a sort of Marion Delorme, a miserable deluding despotic passion, of which he felt the burden and the shame, but from which nevertheless he could not and would not free himself .... But what a soiled Celimene, is the creature before whom Shake- speare kneels, with as much scorn as of desire!"

[The goddess Envy to the goddess Reason JY

Those lips of thine,

That have profaned their scarlet ornaments And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, Robb'd others bed's revenues of their rents.

English Literature, Taine, Vol. I., p. 345.

The god of Desire to the god of Lore.2 As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite, Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.

Sonnet xxxvu.

"I accept the lameness, poverty and contempt as literally true for this period of Shakespeare's life. It does not follow that he had been lame long, nor yet that he remained so. He may have been 'made lame' by some accident— possibly in a recent scuffle. "--Shake- speares Sonnets, Samuel Butler, p. 159.

'Tis lameness of the mind

That had no better skill: yet let it passe, For burdnous lodes are set upon asse.

Robert Chester* in Love's Martyr, p. 142.

1 Cp. p. 69. 2 Cp. p. 35.

3 For the identity of this hitherto unknown and never-again-heard-of poet [except in Love's Martyr,} see pen names of Essex, frontispiece.

[ APPENDIX I. ]

LOVE'S MARTYR

OR

ROSALIN'S COMPLAINT.

LOVES MARTYR:

OR,

ROSALINS COMPLAINT.

Allegorically Shadowing the truth of Love,

in the constant Fate of the Phoenix

and Turtle.

A Poeme enterlaced with much varietie and raritie;

now first translated out of the venerable Italian Torquato

Caeliano, by ROBERT CHESTER.

With the true legend of famous King Arthur, the last of the nine

Worthies, being the first Essay of a new Brytish Poet: collected

out of diverse Authenticall Records.

To these are added some nefw compositions, of severall modern Writers

'whose names are subscribed to their sever all workes, upon the

first subject: 'viz. the Phoenix and

Turtle.

Mar : — Mutare dominum non potest liber notus}

LONDON

Imprinted for E. B, 1601.

1 Cp. notes, p. 148,

TO THE HONORA-

ble, and (of me before all other)

honored Knight, Sir John Salisburie

one of the Esquires of the bodie to the

Queenes most excellent Majestie, Robert

Chester wisheth increase of vertue

and honour.

Posse & nolle, no bile.

HOnorable Sir, having according to the directions of some of my best-minded friends, finished my long expected labour;1 knowing this ripe judging world to be full of envie, every one [as sound reason requireth] thinking his owne child to be fairest although an /Ethio- pian, I am emboldened to put my infant wit to the eye of the world under your protectio knowing that if Ab- surditie like a theefe have crept into any part of these Poems, your well-graced name will over-shadow these defaults, and the knowne Caracter of your vertues, cause the common back-biting enemies of good spirits, to be silent. To the World I put my Child to nurse, at the expence of your favour, whose glorie will stop the mouthes of the vulgar, and I hope cause the learned to rocke it asleepe [for your sake] in the bosome of good wil. Thus wishing you all the blessings of heaven and earth; I end.

Yours in all service,

Ro. CHESTER.

1 That Love's Martyr is a posthumous work of Shake-speare, cp. all of p. 297.

356

The Authors request to the Phoenix.1

PHcenix of beautie, beauteous Bird of any To thee I do entitle all my labour, More precioiis in mine eye by far then many, That feedst all earthly sences with thy savour: Accept my home-writ praises of thy love, And kind acceptance of thy Turtle-dove. 1

Some deepe-read scholler fam d for Poetrie, Whose wit-enchanting verse deserveth fame, Should sing of thy perfections passing beautie, And elevate thy famous worthy name: Yet I the least, and meanest in degree, Endevoured have to please in praising thee.

R. Chester.

1 cp. P. 255-

To the kind Reader.

OF bloudy warres, nor of the sacke of Troy, Of Pryams murdred sonncs, nor Didoes fall, (9/Hellens rape, by Paris Trojan boy, Of Caesars victories, nor Pompeys thrall, <9/ Lucrece rape, being ravisht by a /\ing, Of none of these, of sweete Conceit I sing.

Then (gentle Reader} over-read my Muse,

That armes her self e to flie a lowly flight,

My untun d stringed verse do thou excuse,

That may perhaps accepted, yeeld delight:

I cannot clime in praises to the skie,

Least falling, I be dr own d with infamie.

Mea mecum Porto.

R. Ch,

1 Cp. note i, p. 354.

ROSALINS COM- PLAINT, METAPHORI-

cally applied to Dame Nature at a Parlia-

ment held (in the high Star-chamber ) by the

Gods, for the preservation and increase of

Earths beauteous Phoenix.

ASolemne day of meeting mongst the Gods, And royall parliament there was ordained: The heavenly Synod was at open ods, And many harts with earthly wrongs were pained: Some came to crave excuse, some to complaine Of heavie burdend griefes they did sustaine.

Vesta she told, her Temple was defiled: Juno how that her nuptiall knot was broken; Venus from her sonne Cupid was exiled: And Pallas tree with ignorance was shoken: Bellona rav'd at Lordlike cowardice, And Cupid that fond Ladies were so nice.

To this Assembly came Dame Nature weeping, And with her handkercher through' wet with teares, She dried her rosie cheekes, made pale with sighing, Hanging her wofull head, head full of feares: And to Joves selfe plac'd in a golden seate, She kneeld her downe, and thus gan to intreate:

Thou mightie Imperator of the earth, Thou ever-living Regent of the aire, That to all creatures giv'st a lively breath,

36°

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

And thundrest wrath downe from thy fine chaire, Behold thy handmaid, king of earthly kings, That to thy gracious sight sad tidings brings.

One rare rich Phoenix1 of exceeding beautie, One none-like Lillie in the earth I placed; One faire Helena, to whom men owe dutie: One countrey with a milke-white Dove I graced:

One and none such, since the wide world was found Hath ever Nature placed on the ground.2

Head. Her head I framed of a heavenly map,

Wherein the sevenfold vertues were enclosed, When great Apollo slept within my lap, And in my bosome had his rest reposed, I cut away his locks of purest gold, And plac'd them on her head of earthly mould.

Haire. When the least whistling wind begins to sing,

And gently blowes her haire about her necke, Like to a chime of bels it soft doth ring, And with the pretie noise the wind doth checke, Able to lull asleepe a pensive hart, That of the round ^worlds sorrowes beares a part.

Forehead. Her forehead is a place for princely Jove To sit, and censure matters of import: Wherein men reade the sweete conceipts of Love, To which hart-pained Lovers do resort,

And in this Tablet find to cure the wound, For which no salve or herbe was ever found.

1 Allegory, the Sonnets of 1609, a dismantled Masque.

2 I would remind the reader that here, as throughout the Masque, Mother Nature speaks of herself as Nature, this is not the least confusing part of the exposition.

Rosaliris Complaint. 361

Under this mirrour, are her princely eyes: Eyes.

Two Carbuncles, two rich imperiall lights; That ore the day and night do soveraignize, And their dimme tapers to their rest she frights:

Her eyes excell the Moone and glorious Sonne,

And when she riseth al their force is donne.

Her morning-coloured cheekes, in which is plac'd, Cheekes.

A Lillie lying in a bed of Roses;

This part above all others I have grac'd,

For in the blue veines you may reade sweet posies:

When she doth blush, the Heavens do wax red.

When she lookes pale, that heavenly Front is dead.

Her chinne a litle litle pretie thing Chinne.

In which the sweet carnatian Gelli-flower, Is round encompast in a christall ring, And of that pretie Orbe doth beare a power:

No storme of Envie can this glorie touch,

Though many should assay it overmuch.

Her lippes two rubie Gates from whence doth spring, Lippes.

Sweet honied deaw by an intangled kisse,

From forth these glories doth the Night-bird sing,

A Nightingale that no right notes will miss:

True learned Eloquence and Poetrie,

Do come betwene these dores of excellencie.

Her teeth are hewed from rich crystal Rockes, Teeth.

Or from the Indian pearle of much esteem, These in a closet her deep counsell lockes,

362

Skake-speare England 's Ulysses,

And are as porters to so faire a Queene,

They taste the diet of the heav'nly traine Other base grossenesse they do still disdaine.

Tongue. Her tongue the utterer of all glorious things. The silver clapper of that golden bell, That never soundeth but to mightie Kings, And when she speakes, her speeches do excell: He in a happie chaire himselfe doth place, Whose name with her sweet tongue she means to grace.

Necke. Her necke is Vestas silver conduict pipe, In which she powers perfect chastitie, And of the muskie grapes in sommer ripe, She makes a liquor of rarietie,

That dies this swanne-like piller to a wThite, More glorious then the day with all his light.

Breastes. Her breasts two crystal orbes of whitest white,

Two little mounts from whence lifes comfort springs. Between those hillockes Cupid doth delight To sit and play, and in that valley sings:

Looking love-babies in her wanton eyes,

That all grosse vapours thence doth chastesize.

Armes. Her armes are branches of that silver tree, That men surname the rich Hesperides, A precious circling shew of modestie, When she doth spread these glories happines:

Ten times ten thousand blessings he doth state, Whose circled armes shall cling about her waste.

Rosaliris Complaint. 363

Her hands are fortunes palmes, where men may reade Hands.

His first houres destiny, or weale or woe,

When she this sky-like map abroad doth spreade,

Like pilgrimes man}7 to this Saint do go,

And in her hand, white hand, they there do see

Love lying in a bed of ivorie.

Her fingers long and small do grace her hand; Fingers.

For when she toucheth the sweete sounding Lute, The wild untamed beasts amaz'd do stand, And carroll-chanting birds are sudden mute:

O fingers how you grace the silver wires,

And in humanitie burne Venus fires!

Her bellie (o grace incomprehensible) Bellie.

Far whiter then the milke-white lillie flower.

O might Arabian Pluvnix come invisible,

And on this mountaine build a glorious bower,

Then Sunne and Moone as tapers to her bed, Would light loves Lord to take her maidenhead.

Be still my thoughts, be silent all yee Muses, Nota.

Wit-flowing eloquence now grace my tongue:

Arise old Homer and make no excuses, j

Of a rare peece of art must be my song, f *

Of more then most, and most of all beloved, About the which Venus sweete doves have hovered.

There is a place in lovely paradize,

From whence the golden Gehon overflowes

A fountaine of such honorable prize,

Cp. all of p. 20.

364 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

That none the sacred, sacred vertues knowes, Walled about, betok'ning sure defence, With trees of life, to keepe bad errors thence.1

Thighes. Her thighs two pillers fairer far then faire, Two underprops of that celestiall house, That Mansion that is Junos silver chaire, In which Ambrosia VENUS doth carouse,

And in her thighs the prety veines are running Like Christall rivers from the maine streames flowing.

Legges. Her legges are made as graces to the rest, So pretie, white, and so proportionate, That leades her to loves royall sportive nest, Like to a light bright Angel in her gate:

For why no creature in the earth but she;

Is like an Angell, Angell let her be.

Feetc. Her Feete [now draw I to conclusion]

Are neat and litle to delight the eye,

No tearme in all humane invention,

Or in the veine of sweet writ Poetrie

Can ere be found, to give her feet that grace,

That beares her corporate Soule from place to place.

And if by night she walke, the Marigold,

That doth inclose the glorie of her eye,

At her approach her beauty doth unfold,

And spreads her selfe in all her royaltie,

Such vertue hath this Phoenix glassy shield,

That Floures and Herbs at her faire sight do yeeld.

1 Cp. all of p. 250.

Ro safaris Complaint. 365

And if she grace the Walkes within the day,

Flora doth spreade an Arras cloth of flowers,

.Before her do the prety Satires play,

And make her banquets in their leavie Bowers:

Head, Haire, Brow, Eyes, Cheeks, Chin and all

Lippes, Teeth, Tong, Neck, Brests, Belly are majesticall.

This Phoenix I do feare me will decay, And from her ashes never will arise An other Bird her wings for to display, And her rich beauty for to equalize:

The Arabian fires are too dull and base,

To make another spring within her place.

Therefore dread Regent of these Elements,

Pitie poore Nature in her Art excelling,1

Give thou an humble eare to my laments,

That to thee have a long true tale beene telling, Of her, who when it please thee to behold, Her outward sight shall bewties pride unfold.

At these words Jove stood as a man amazed, And Junos love-bread bewtie turnd to white, Venus she blusht, and on dame Nature gazed, And Vesta she began to weepe outright:

And little Cupid poore boy strucke in love,

With repetition of this earthl}^ Dove.

But at the last Jove gan to rouse his spirit, And told dame Nature in her sweet discourse; Her womans Toung did run before her Wit,

1 Cp. Spenser's lines p. 10.

366 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Such a faire soul her selfe could never nurse, Nor in the vastie earth was ever living, Such beauty that all beauty was excelling.

Nature was strucke with pale temeritie,

To see the God of thunders lightning eyes.

He shooke his knotty haire so wrathfully,

As if he did the heavenly rout despise:

Then down upon her knee dame Nature fals, And on the great gods name aloud she cals.

Jove thou shalt see my commendations,

To be unworthie and impartiall,

To make of her an extallation,

Whose beautie is devine majesticall.

Looke on that painted picture there, behold The rich wrought Phoenix of Arabian gold.

Joves eyes were setled on her painted eyes, Jove blushing smil'd, the picture smil'd againe; Jove spoke to her, and in her heart did rise Loves amours, but the picture did disdaine

To love the god, Jove would have stole a kisse,

But Juno being by, denyed him this.

When all the rest beheld this counterfeit, ) They knew the substance was of rarer price: ) Some gaz'd upon her face, on which did waite As messengers, her two celestiall eyes;

Eyes wanting fire did give a lightning flame, )

How much more would her eyes mans sences tame? f

1 Point of contact between Love's Martyr and the Sonnets of 1609. Cp. note 2, p. 34-

2 Cp. the sensual line of the Dramatis Personae, p. 253.

Rosaliri s Complaint. 367

Then all the Gods and Goddesses did decree, In humble maner to intreat of Jove And every power upon his bended knee, Shewd faithfull service in dame Natures love,

Intreating him to pacific his Ire,

And raise another Phoenix of new fire.

Her picture from Joves eyes hath banisht Hate, And Mildnesse plaind the furrowes of his brow, Her painted shape hath chastised debate, And now to pleasure them he makes a vow:

Then thus Jove spake, tis pittie she should die,

And leave no ofspring of her Progenie.

Nature go hie thee, get thee Phoebus chaire, Cut through the skie, and leave Arabia, Leave that il working peece of fruitlesse ayre, Leave me the plaines of white Brytania,

These countries have no fire to raise that flame,

That to this Phoenix bird can yeeld a name.

There is a country Clymat fam'd of old, That hath to name delightsome Paphos He, Over the mountaine tops to trudge be bold, There let thy winged Horses rest awhile:

Where in a vale like Ciparissus grove,

Thou shalt behold a second Phoenix love.

A champion country full of fertill Plaines, Green grassie Medowes, little prettie Hils, Aboundant pleasure in this place remaines,

368 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

And plenteous sweetes this heavenly clymat filles: Faire flowing bathes that issue from the rockes, Aboundant heards of beasts that come by flockes.

High stately Caedars, sturdie bigge arm'd Okes, Great Poplers, and long trees of Libanon, Sweete smelling Firre that frankensence provokes, And Pine apples from whence sweet juyce doth come: The sommer-blooming Hauthorne; under this Faire Venus from Adonis stole a kisse.

Fine Thickets and rough Brakes for sport and pleasure, Places to hunt the light-foote nimble Roe: These groves Diana did account her treasure, And in the cold shades, oftentimes did goe

To lie her downe, faint, \vearv on the ground, Whilest that her Nimphs about her daunst a round.

A quire of heavenly Angels tune their voyces, And counterfeit the Nightingale in singing, At which delight some pleasure she rejoyces, And Plenty from her cell her gifts is bringing:

Peares, Apples, Plums, and»the red ripe Cherries, Sweet Strawberries with other daintie berries.

Here haunt the Satyres and the Driades, The Hamadriades and pretie Elves, That in the groves with skipping many please, And runne along upon the water shelves:

Heare Mermaides sing, but with Ulysses eares, The country Gallants do disdaine their teares.

Rosaliri s Complaint. 369

The Crocadile and hissing Adders sting, May not come neere this holy plot of ground, No Nightworme in this continent may sing, Nor poison-spitting Serpent may be found:

Here Milke and Hon}' like two rivers ran,

As fruitefuil as the land of Canaan.

What shall I say? their Orchards spring with plentie,

The Gardens smell like Floras paradice,

Bringing increase from one to number twentie,

As Lycorice and sweet Arabian spice:

No place is found under bright heavens fair blisse To bear the name of Paradise but this.

Hard by a running streame or crystall fountaine, Wherein rich Orient pearle is often found, Environ'd with a high and steepie mountaine, A fertill soile and fruitful plot of ground,

There shalt thou find true Honors lovely Squire, \ That for this Phoenix keepes Prometheus fire. )

His bower wherein he lodgeth all the night, Is fram'd of Caedars and high loftie Pine, I made his house to chastice thence despight, And fram'd it like this heavenly roofe of mine: His name is Libcrall honor, and his hart, Aymes at true faithfull service and desart.

Looke on his face, and in his browes doth sit, Bloud and sweete Mercie hand in hand united, Bloud to his foes, a president most fit

1 The Turtle Dove or the Dramatis Personae of the Masque. 24

370 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

For such as have his gentle humour spited:

His Haire is curl'd by nature mild and meeke, Hangs carelesse downe to shrowd a blushing cheeke,

Give him this Ointment to annoint his Head, This precious Balme to lay unto his feet, These shall direct him to this Phoenix bed, Where on a high hill he this Bird shall meet:

And of their Ashes by my doome shal rise,

Another Phoenix her to equalize.

This said the Gods and Goddesses did applaud, The Censure of this thundring Magistrate, And Nature gave him everlasting laud, And quickly in the dayes bright Coach she gate

Downe to the earth, she's whirled through the ayre;

Love joyne these fires, thus Venus made her prayer.

An Introduction to the Prayer.1

GUide thou great Guider of the Sunne and Moone, Thou elementall favourer of the Night, My undeserved wit, wit sprong too soone, To give thy greatnesse everie gracious right:

Let Pen, Hand, Wit and undeserving tongue, Thy praise and honor sing in everie song.

In my poore prayer guide my Hand aright, Guide my dull Wit, guide all my dulled Senses, Let thy bright Taper give me faithfull light, And from thy Booke of life blot my offences:

Then arm'd with thy protection and thy love, He make my prayer for thy Turtle-dove,

1 The prayer is given on p. 15.

Rosaliri s Complaint. 371

TO THOSE OF LIGHT BELEEFE.

You gentle favourers of excelling Muses, And gracers of all Learning and Desart, You whose Conceit the deepest worke peruses, Whose judgements still are governed by Art:

Reade gently what you reade, this next conceit, Fram'd of pure love, abandoning deceit.

And you whose dull imagination,

And blind conceited Error hath not knowne,

Of Herbes and Trees true nomination,

But thinke them fabulous that shall be showne;

Learne more, search much, and surely you shall find Plaine honest Truth and Knowledge comes behind.

Then gently [gentle Reader] do thou favour, And with a gracious looke grace what is written, With smiling cheare peruse my homely labour, With Envies poisoned spitefull looke not bitten:

So shalt thou cause my willing thought to strive, To adde more Honey to my new-made Hive,

372

Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

A meeting Dialogue-wise between Na-

ture, the Phoenix, and the Turtle Dove.

Nature. \ LI haile faire Phoenix, whither art thou flying?

-/"V Why in the hot Sunne dost thou spread thy wings?

More pleasure shouldst thou take in cold shades lying?

And for to bathe thyselfe in wholsome Springs,

Where the woods feathered quier sweetely sings:

Thy golden Wings and thy breasts beauteous Eie, Will fall away in Phoebus royaltie.

Phoenix. O stay me not, I am no Phaznix I, And if I be that bird, I am defaced, Upon the Arabian mountaines I must die, And never with a poore young Turtle graced;2 Such operation in me is not placed:

What is my Beautie but a painted wal, My golden spreading Feathers quickl}' fal.

Nature. Why dost thou shead thy Feathers, kill thy Heart, Weep out thine Eyes, and staine thy golden Face? Why dost thou of the worlds woe take a part, And in relenting tears thy selfe disgrace? Joyes mirthful Tower is thy dwelling place:3 All Birdes for vertue and excelling beautie, Sing at thy reverend feet in Love and Dutie,

1 The Sonnets of 1609, a dismantled Masque,

2 The Dramatis Personae of the Masque.

3 The play a comedy.

Rosaliris Complaint. 373

Oh how thou feed'st me with my Beauties praising! Phoenix. O how thy Praise sounds from a golden Toung!

0 how thy Toung nrr Vertues would be raising! And raising me thou dost corrupt thy song: Thou seest not Honie and Poison mixt among;

Thou not'st my Beautie with a jealous looke, But dost not see how I do bayte my hooke.

Tell me, O tell me, for I am thy friend, Nature.

1 am Dame Nature that first gave thee breath,1 That from Jove\s glorious rich seate did descend, To set my Feete upon this lumpish earth: What is the cause of thy sad sullen Mirth?

Hast thou not Beautye, Vertue, Wit and Favour: What other graces would'st thou crave of Nature?

What is my Beauty but a vading Flower? Phoenix.

Werein men reade their deep-conceived Thrall, [ 2

Alluring twentie Gallants in an hower,

To be as servile vassalls at my Call?

My sunne-bred lookes their Senses do exhall:

But (o my griefe) where my faire Eyes would love, Foule bleare-eyed Envie doth my thoughts reprove.

What is my Vertue but a Tablitorie:

Which if I did bestow would more increase?

What is my wit but an inhumane glorie:

That to my kind deare friends would proffer peace?

But O vaine Bird, give ore in silence, cease:

Malice perchaunce doth hearken to thy words, That cuts thy threed of Love with twentie swords.

1 Cp. note 3, p. 249.

2 Cp. last line of Son. 150, p. 173.

3 She longs to be a play, not merely love Sonnets.

374

Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Nature. Tell me (O Mirrour) of our earthly time, Tell me sweete Phcenix glorie of mine age, Who blots thy Beauty with foule Envies crime, And locks thee up in fond Suspitions cage?1 Can any humane heart beare thee such rage?

Daunt their proud stomacks with thy piercing Eye, Unchaine Loves sweetnesse at thy libertie.

Phoenix. What is't to bath me in a wholesome Spring, Or wash me in a cleere, deepe, running Well, When I no vertue from the same do bring, Nor of the balmie water beare a smell? It better were for me mongst Crowes to dwell, [billing, Then flocke with Doves, when Doves sit alwayes And waste my wings of gold, my Beautie killing.

Nature. lie chaine foule Envy to a brazen Gate,

And place deepe Malice in a hollow Rocke, To some blacke desert Wood He banish Hate, And fond Suspicion from thy sight He locke: These shall not stirre, let anie Porter knocke.

Thou art but yong, fresh, greene, and must not passe, But catch the hot Sunne with thy steeled glasse.

Phoenix. That Sunne shines not within this Continent,

That with his warme raves can my dead Bloud chearish, Grosse cloudie Vapours from this Aire is sent, Not hot reflecting Beames my heart to nourish. O Beautie, I do feare me thou wilt perish:

Then gentle Nature let me take my flight, But ere I passe, set Envie out of sight.

1 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

Rosalins Complaint.

lie conjure him, and raise him from his grave, And put upon his head a punishment: Nature thy sportive Pleasure meanes to save, He send him to perpetuall banishment, Like to a totterd Furie ragd and rent:

He baffle him, and blind his Jealous eye, That in thy actions Secrecie would prye.

375

Nature.

He conjure him, He raise him from his Cell, lie pull his Eyes from his conspiring head, He locke him in the place where he doth dwell; lie starve him there, till the poore slave be dead, That on the poisonous Adder oft hath fed:

These threatnings on the Helhound I will lay, But the performance beares the greater sway.

Stand by faire Phoenix, spread thy Wings of gold, And daunt the face of Heaven with thine Eye, Like Jnnos bird thy Beautie do unfold, And thou shalt triumph ore thine enemie: Then thou and I in Phoebus coach will flie,

Where thou shalt see and taste a secret Fire, That will adde spreading life to thy Desire.

Arise thou bleare-ey'd Enrie from thy bed, Thy bed of Snakie poison and corruption, Unmaske thy big-swolne Cheekes with poyson red, For with thee I must trie Conclusion, And plague thee with the Worlds confusion. I charge thee by my power to appeare, And bv Celestiall warrant to draw neare.

1 Cp. all of p. 265.

376

Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Phoenix. O what a mistie Dampe breakes from the ground, Able it selfe to infect this noysome Aire: As if a cave of Toades themselves did wound, Or poysoned Dragons fell into dispaire, Hels damned sent with this may not compare, And in this foggie cloud there doth arise A damned Feend ore me to tyrannize.

Nature. He shall not touch a Feather of thy wing, Or ever have Authoritie and power, As he hath had in his days secret prying, Over thy calmie Lookes to send a shower: He place thee now in secrecies sweet bower, Where at thy will in sport ar\d dallying, Spend out thy time in Amarous discoursing.

Phoenix. Looke Nurce, looke Nature how the Villaine sweates, His big-swolne Eyes will fall unto the ground, With fretting anguish he his blacke breast beates, As if he would true harted minds confound: O keepe him backe, his sight my heart doth wound: O Envie it is thou that mad'st me perish, For want of that true Fire my heart should nourish,

Nature. But I will plague him for his wickednesse, Envie go packe thee to some forreine soyle, To some desertfull plaine or Wildernesse, Where savage Monsters and wild beasts do toyle, And with inhumane Creatures keep a coyle. Be gon I say, and never do returne, Till this round-compast world with fire do burne.

Rosaliri s Complaint. 377

What is he gone? is Envie packt away? Phcenix.

Then one fowle blot is mooved from his Throne,

That my poore honest Thoughts did seeke to slay:

Away fowle griefe, and over-heavie Mone,

That do ore charge me with continuall grones,

Will you not hence? then with downe-falling teares, He drowne my selfe in rippenesse of my Years.

Fie peevish Bird, what art thou franticke mad? Nature.

Wilt thou confound thy selfe with foolish Griefe? If there be cause or meanes for to be had, Thy Nurse and nourisher will find reliefe: • Then tell me all thy accidents in briefe;

Have I not banisht Envy for thy sake?

I greater things for thee ile undertake.

Envie is gone and banisht from my sight, Phoenix.

Banisht for ever comming any more:

But in Arabia burnes another Light,

A dark dimme Taper that I must adore,

This barren Countrey makes me to deplore: It is so saplesse that the very Spring, Makes tender new-growne Plants be with'ring.

The noisome Aire is growne infectious, The very Springs for want of Moisture die, The glorious Sunne is here pestiferous, No hearbes for Phisicke or sweet Surgeric* No balme to cure hearts inward maladie:

No gift of Nature, she is here defaced,

Heart-curing Balsamum here is not placed.

1 The Turtle Dove or Dramatis Personae of the Masque.

2 Cp. note 2, p. 382.

378

Shake-spectre England's Ulysses,

Nature. Is this the fumme and substance of thy woe?

Is this the Anker-hold unto thy bote?

Is this thy Sea of Griele doth overflow?

Is this the River sets thy ship aflote?

Is this the Lesson thou hast learn'd by rote? And is this all? and is this plot of Ground The substance of the Theame doth thee confound?

Plicenix. This is the Anker-hold, the Sea, the River, The Lesson and the substance of my Song, This is the Rocke my Ship did seeke to shiver, And in this ground with Adders was I stung, ) And in a lothsome pit was often flung: j *

My Beautie and my Vertues captivate, To Love, dissembling Love that I did hate.2

Nature. Cheare up thy spirit Phoenix, prune thy wings, And double-gild thy Fethers for my newes; A Nightingale and not a Raven sings, That from all blacke contention will excuse Thy heavy thoughts, and set them to peruse

Another Clymat, where thou maist expresse, A plot of Paradice for worthinesse.

Jove in divine divinesse of his Soule,

That rides upon his firie axaltree,

That with his Mace doth humane flesh controule,

When of mans deedes he makes a Registrie,

Loving the good for singularitie:

With a vail'd Count'nance and a gracious Smile, Did bid me plant my Bird in Paphos He.

1 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

2 Cp. note 3, p. 373.

Rosalin s Complaint. 379

What ill divining Planet did presage, Phcenix.

My timelesse birth so timely brought to light? What fatal Comet did his wrath engage, To work a harmelesse Bird such worlds despight, Wrapping my dayes blisse in blacke fables night?1 No Planet nor no Comet did conspire My downefall, but foule Fortunes wrathful ire.

What did my Beautie move her to disdaine?

Or did my Vertues shadow all her Blisse?

That she should place me in a desart Plaine,

And send forth Envic with a Judas kisse,

To sting me with a Scorpions poisoned hisse?

From my first birth-right for to plant me heare, ) Where I have alwaies fed on Griefe and Feare. j *

Raile not gainst Fortunes sacred Deitie, Nature.

In youth thy vertuous patience she hath tryed,

From this base earth shee'le lift the up on hie,

Where in Contents rich Chariot thou shalt ride,

And never with Impatience to abide:

Fortune will glorie in thy great renowne, And on thy feathered head will set a crowne.

T'was time to come, for I was comfortlesse, Phoenix.

And in my Youth have bene Infortunate: This He of Paphos I do hope will blesse, And alter my halfe-rotten tottering state, My hearts Delight was almost runiate.

In this rich lie a Turtle had his nest,

And in a Wood of gold tooke up his rest.

1The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Certain labyrinth.

380

Shake-speare England *s Ulysses,

Nature. Fly in this Chariot, and come sit by me, And we will leave this, ill corrupted Land, We'le take our course through the blew Azure skie, And set our feet on Paphos golden sand. There of that Turtle Dove we'le understand: And visit him in those delightfull plaines, Where Peace conjoyn'd with Plenty still remaines,

Phoenix. I come, I come, and now farewell that strond, Upon whose craggie rockes my Ship was rent, Your ill beseeming follies made me fond, And in a vastie Cell I up was pent,1 Where my fresh blooming Beauty I have spent.

O blame your selves ill nurtred cruell Swaines, ) That fild my scarlet Glorie full of Staines. )

Nature. Welcome immortal Bewtie, we will ride Over the Semi-circle of Europa, And bend our course where we will see the Tide, That parts the Continent of Ajfrica, Where the great Cham governes Tartar ia:

And when the starrie Curtaine vales the night, In Paphos sacred He we meane to light.

1 The 1609 arrangement of the Sonnets, a Cretan labyrinth.

2 Cp. all of pp. 351 and 352.

Hi^We now skip many weary pages of Lore's Martyr — bringing the reader down to the meeting of the Phoenix with the Turtle Dove. Dr. Grosart's com- plete edition of Love's Martyr will be found in the transactions of the Neiv Shak. Soc., 1878.

Rosaliri s Complaint.

[ENTER THE TURTLE DOVE.]1

But what sad-mournefull drooping soule is this, Within whose watry eyes sits Discontent, Whose snaile-pac'd gate tels something is amisse: From whom is banisht sporting Meriment:

Whose feathers mowt off, falling as he goes, The perfect picture of hart pining woes?

Phoenix.

This is the carefull bird the Turtle Dove, Whose heavy croking note doth shew his griefe, And thus he wanders seeking of his love, Refusing all things that may yeeld reliefe:

All motions of good turnes, all Mirth and Joy, Are bad, fled, gone, and falne into decay.

Nature.

Is this the true example of the Heart?

Is this the Tutor of faire Constancy?'2'

Is this Loves treasure, and Loves pining smart,

Is this the substance of all honesty?

And comes he thus attir'd, alas poore soule, That Destines foule wrath should thee controule.

Phoenix.

See Nourse, he stares and lookes me in the face, And now he mournes, worse then he did before, He hath forgot his dull slow heavy pace, But with swift gate he eyes us more and more: O shall I welcome him, and let me borrow Some of his griefe to mingle with my sorrow.

1 Allegory for the Dramatis Personae of the Masque. * Cp. note 3, p. 33.

382

Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Nature. Farwell faire bird, He leave you both alone, This is the Dove you long'd so much to see, And this will prove companion of your mone, An Umpire of all true humility:

Then note my Phoenix, what there may ensue, And so I kisse my bird. A due, Adue.

Phcenix. Mother farewell; and now within his eyes, Sits sorrow clothed in a sea of teares, And more and more the billowes do arise: Pale Griefe halfe pin'd upon his brow appeares, His feathers fade away, and make him looke, As if his name were writ in Deaths pale booke.

Turtle. O stay poore Turtle, whereat hast thou gazed,

At the eye-dazling Sunne, whose sweete reflection. The round encompast heavenly world amazed? O no, a child of Natures true complexion,1 The perfect Phanix of rariety, For wit, for vertue, and excelling beauty.

Phaznix.

Haile map of sorrow:2 Tur. Welcome Cupid's child, Let me wipe off those teares upon thy cheekes, That stain'd thy beauties pride, and have defil'd Nature it selfe, that so. usurping seekes

To sit upon thy face, for He be partener, Of thy harts wrapped sorrow more hereafter.

1 Cp. note 3, p. 249.

8 The Masque is mutilated or dismembered, hence Love's Martyr.

Rosaliri s Complaint. 383

Natures faire darling, let me kneel to thee Turtle.

And offer up my true obedience,

And sacredly in all humility,

Crave pardon for presumptions foule offence:

Thy lawne-snow-colour'd hand shall not come neare

My impure face, to wipe away one teare.

My teares are for my Turtle that is dead, My sorrow springs from her want that is gone, My heavy note sounds for the soule that's fled, And I will dye for htm left all alone:

I am not living, though I seeme to go,

Already buried in the grave of wo.

Why I have left Arabia for thy sake, Phoenix.

Because those fires have no working substance, And for to find thee out did undertake: Where on the mountaine top we may advance

Our fiery alter; let me tell thee this,

Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.

Come poore lamenting soule, come sit by me, We are all one, thy sorrow shall be mine, Fall thou a teare, and thou shalt plainly see, Mine eyes shall answer teare for teare of thine:

Sigh thou, He sigh, and if thou give a grone,

I shall be dead in answering of thy mone.

Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Turtle. Loves honorable Friend, one grone of yours, Will rend my sicke-love-pining hart asunder, One sigh brings teares from me like April/ showers, Procur'd by Sommers hote loud cracking thunder: Be you as mery as sweet mirth may be, He grone and sigh, both for your selfe and me.

Phcenix. Thou shalt not gentle Turtle, I will beare

Halfe of the burdenous yoke thou dost sustaine, Two bodies may with greater ease outweare A troublesome labour, then He brooke some paine, But tell me gentle Turtle, tell me truly The difference betwixt false Loveand true Sinceritie.

Turtle. That shall I briefly, if youle give me leave, False love is full of Envie and Deceit, With cunning shifts our humours to deceive, Laying downe poison for a sugred baite, Alwayes inconstant, false and variable, Delighting in fond change and mutable.

True love, is loving pure, not to be broken, But with an honest eye, she eyes her lover, Not changing variable, nor never shoken With fond Suspition, secrets to discover,

True love will tell no lies, nor ne're dissemble, But with a bashfull modest feare will tremble.

Rosaliri s Complaint.

385

False love puts on a Maske to shade her folly, True love goes naked wishing to be seene, False love will counterfeite perpetually, True love is Troths sweete emperizing Queene: This is the difference, true Love is a Jewell, False love, hearts tyrant, inhumane, and cruell,

What may we wonder at? O where is learning? Where is all difference twixt the good and bad? Where is Ape lies art? where is true cunning? Nay where is all the vertue may be had?

Within my Turtles bosome, she refines, )

**

More then some loving perfect true devines. )

Phoenix.

Thou shalt not be no more the 7>/r//^-Dove, Thou shalt no more go weeping al alone, For thou shalt be my selfe, my perfect Love, Thy griefe is mine, thy sorrow is my mone,

Come kisse me sweetest sweete, O I do blesse This gracious luckie Sun-shine happinesse.

How may I in all gratefulnesse requite,

This gracious favor offred to thy servant?

The time affordeth heavinesse not delight,

And to the times appoint weele be observant:

Command, O do commaund, what ere thou wilt, My hearts bloud for thy sake shall straight be spilt.

Turtle.

Cp. the sensual line of the Dramatis Personae, p. 24.

386

Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Phoenix. Then I command thee on thy tender care, And chiefe obedience that thou owst to me, That thou especially (deare Bird) beware Of impure thoughts, or uncleane chastity: For we must wast together in that fire, That will not burne but by true Loves desire.

Turtle. A spot of that foule monster neare did staine, These drooping feathers, nor I never knew In what base filthy clymate doth remaine That spright incarnate; and to tell you true, I am as spotlesse as the purest whight, Cleare without staine, of envy, or despight.

Phoenix. Then to yon next adjoyning grove we'le flye,

And gather sweete wood for to make our flame, And in a manner sacrincingly, Burne both our bodies to revive one name:1 And in all humblenesse we will intreate The hot earth parching Sunne to lend his

Turtle. Why now my heart is light, this very doome Hath banisht sorrow from my pensive breast: And in my bosome there is left no roome, To set blacke melancholy, or let him rest;

He fetch sweete mirrhe to burne, and licorice, Sweete Juniper, and straw them ore with spice.

Phoenix. Pile up the wood, and let us invocate

His great name that doth ride within his chariot, And guides the dayes bright eye, let's nominate

1 The return of Ulysses a "star-like" rising, cp. the acrostic at the termina- tion of the Dramatis Personse, p. 24.

Rosalin s Complaint.

387

Some of his blessings, that he well may wot, Our faithfull service and humility, Offer' d unto his highest Deiety.

Great God Apollo, for thy tender love, Thou once didst beare to wilful Phaeton, That did desire thy chariots rule above, Which thou didst grieve in hart to thinke upon: Send thy hot kindling light into this wood, That shall receive the Sacrifice of bloud.

For thy sweete Daphnes sake thy best beloved, And for the Harpe receiv'd of Mercury, And for the Muses of thee favored, Whose gift of wit excels all excellency:

Send thy hot kindling fire into this wood, That shall receive the Sacrifice of bloud.

Turtle.

For thy sweet fathers sake great Jupiter, That with his thunder-bolts commands the earth, And for Latonas sake thy gentle mother, That first gave Phoebus glories lively breath: Send thy hot kindling light into this wood, That shall receive the sacrifice of bloud.

P ha? nix.

Stay, stay, poore Turtle, o we are betraid, Behind yon little bush there sits a spy, That makes me blush with anger, halfe afraid, That in our motions secrecy would pry:

I will go chide with him, and drive him thence, And plague him for presumptions foule offence,

Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Turtle. Be not affraid, it is the Pcllican,

Looke how her yong-ones make her brest to bleed, And drawes the bloud foorth, do the best she can, And with the same their hungry fancies feede, Let her alone to vew our Tragedy, And then report our Love that she did see.

See beauteous Phoenix it begins to burne, O blessed Phoebus, happy, happy light, Now will I recompence thy great good turne, And first (deare bird) lie vanish in thy sight,

And thou shalt see with what a quicke desire, He leape into the middle of the fire.

Phoenix. Stay Turtle stay, for I will first prepare;

Of my bones must the Princely Phvnix rise, And ift be possible thy bloud wele spare, For none but for my sake, dost thou despise This frailty of thy life, o live thou still, And teach the base deceitfull world Loves will,

Turtle. Have I come hither drooping through the woods, And left the springing groves to seeke for thee? Have I forsooke to bathe me in the flouds, And pin'd away in carefull misery?

Do not deny me Phoenix I must be A partner in this happy Tragedy.

Phoenix. O holy, sacred, and pure perfect fire,

More pure then that ore which faire Dido mones, 'More sacred in my loving kind desire,

Rosalin ' s Compla int. 389

Then that which burnt old Esons aged bones, Accept into your ever hallowed flame, Two bodies,1 from the which may spring one name.2

O sweet perfumed flame, made of those trees, Turtle.

Under the which the Muses nine have song

The praise of vertuous maids in misteries,

To whom the faire-fac'd Nymphes did often throng:

Accept my body as a Sacrifice

Into your flame, of whom one name may rise.2

0 wilfulnesse, see how with smiling cheare, Phcfnix. My poore deare hart hath flong himselfe to thrall,

Looke what a mirthfull countenance he doth beare. Spreading his wings abroad, and joyes withall:

Learne them corrupted world, learne, heare, and see,

Friendships unspotted true sincerity.

1 come sweet Turtle, and with my bright wings, I will embrace thy burnt bones as they lye,

I hope of these another Creature springs, )

That shall possesse both our authority: f 3 I stay to long, o take me to your glory, And thus I end the Turtle Doves true story.

Finis. R. C.

1 The poem of The Pluvnix and Turtle and the Sonnets of 1609.

2 The return of Ulysses a "star-like rising," cp. the acrostic at the termina- tion of the Dramatis Personae, p. 24.

3 The Masque of Love's Labor's Won.

390 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses,

Conclusion.

GEntle conceivers of true meaning Wit, Let good Experience judge what I have writ, For the Satyricall fond applauded vaines, Whose bitter worme-wood spirite in some straines, Bite like the Curres of ^gypt those that love them, Let me alone, I will be loth to move them, For why, when mightie men their wit do prove, How shall I least of all expect their love? Yet to those men I gratulate some paine, Because they touch those that in art do faine. But those that have the spirit to do good, Their whips will never draw one drop of bloud: To all and all in all that view my labour, Of every judging sight I crave some favour At least to reade, and if you reading find, A lame leg'd staffe, tis lamenesse of the mind That had no better skill: yet let it passe, For burdnous lodes are set upon an Asse. From the sweet fire of perfumed wood, I Another princely Phoenix upright stood: j Whose feathers purified did yeeld more light, Then her late burned mother2 out of sight, And in her heart restes a perpetuall love, Sprong from the bosome of the Turtle-Dove. Long may the new uprising bird increase, Some humors and some motions to release, And thus to all I offer my devotion, Hoping that gentle minds accept my motion.

Finis R. C

1 Shake-speare's poem of The Pheenix and Turtle Dove.

2 The dialogue in Love's Martyr, a play by example for the Sonnet Masque.

Loves Martyr; or, Rosaliris Complaint. 391

HEREAFTER

FOLLOW DIVERSE

Poeticall Essaies on the former Sub- ject; viz: the Turtle and Phoenix.

TDone by the best and chiefest of our moderne writers, with their names sub- scribed to their particular workes: never before extant.

And (now first) consecrated by them all generally,

to the love and merite of the true-noble Knight, Sir John Salisburie.

Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mort.

Anchor a Spei.

MDCI.

392 Shake-speare England 's Ulysses^

THE PHOENIX AND TURTLE DOVE.

(WILLIAM SHAKE-SPEARE'S WILL.)

'(This poem, containing the Dramatis

Personae of the Sonnets, is given

on pp. 257-265 inclusive.)

Loves Martyr; or, Rosaliri s Complaint. 393

(WITNESS.

The following poems signed by Mar ston, Chapman and Jonson con- stitute the three requisite witnesses to the will;1 they serve no oth- er purpose.

1 Cp. Son. 6-Lvn., p. 31, and Son. 48-cxLiii., p. 73.)

394 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

A narration and description of a

most exact wondrous creature, arising

out of the Phoenix and Turtle

Doves ashes.1

The description of this Perfection.

DAres then thy too audaucious sense Presume, define that boundlesse Ens,

That amplest thought transcendeth? O yet vouchsafe my Muse, to greete That wondrous rarenesse, in whose sweete

All praise begins and endeth. Divinest Beautie? that was slightest, That adorn'd this wondrous Brightest,

Which had nought to be corrupted. In this, Perfection had no meane To this, Earths purest was uncleane

Which vertue even instructed. By it all Beings deck'd and stained, Ideas that are idly fained

Onely here subsist invested. Dread not to give strain 'd praise at all, No speech is H}rperbolicall,

To this perfection blessed.

Thus close my Rimes, this all that can be sayd, This wonder never can be flattered.

To Perfection. A Sonnet.

OFt have I gazed with astonish'd eye, At monstrous issues of ill shaped birth, When I have scene the Midwife to old earth, Nature produce most strange deformitie.

1 The above is tinsLove'sMartyr heading of the Marston poem given on p. 254.

Rosaliri s Complaint. 395

So have I marveld to observe of late,

Hard favor'd Feminines so scant of faire,

That Maskes so choicely, sheltred of the aire, As if their beauties were not theirs by fate.

But who so weake of observation,

Hath not discern'd long since how vertues wanted, How parcimoniously the heavens have scanted,

Our chiefest part of adornation.

But now I cease to wonder, now I find

The cause of all our monstrous penny-showes: Now I conceit from whence wits scarc'tie growes, Hard favour'd features, and defects of mind.

Nature long time hath stor'd up vertue, fairenesse. Shaping the rest as foiles unto this Rarenesse.

Perfectioni Hymmis.

WHat should I call this creature, Which now is growne unto maturitie? How should I blase this feature

As firme and constant as Eternitie? Call it Perfection? Fie!

Tis perfecter then brightest names can light it: Call it Heavens mirror? I.

Alas, best attributes can never right it. Beauties resistlesse thunder?

All nomination is too straight of sence: Deepe Contemplations wonder?

That appellation give this excellence. Within all best confin'd,

(Now feebler Genius end thy slighter riming) kSST^l- N° Suberbes,* all is Mind, n^en"'ant)l^c ^s ^arre Irom spot, as possible- defining.

Iiabet nostria

nielior fars a- J 0/111

niifius in Hit's nulla jars ex- tra animwn.

396 Shake-speare England ' s Ulysses,

N

Peristeros: or the male Turtle.

Ot like that loose and partie-liver'd Secfl

Of idle Lovers, that (as different Lights, On colour'd subjects, different hewes reflect;)

Change their Affections with their Mistris Sights, That with her Praise, or Dispraise, drowne, or flote, And must be fed with fresh Conceits, and Fashions; Never waxe cold, but die: love not, but dote:

"Loves fires, staid Judgements blow, not humorous

Passions, Whose Loves upon their Lovers pomp depend,

And quench as fast as her Eyes sparkle twinkles, "(Nought lasts that doth to outward worth contend, "Al Love in smooth browes born, is tomb'd in wrink- les.)

The Turtle. But like the consecrated *Bird of love, The Phcenix. Whose whole lifes hap to his *sole-mate alluded,

Whome no prowd flockes of other Foules could move,

But in her selfe all compaine concluded. She was to him th' Analisde World of pleasure,

Her firmenesse cloth'd him in varietie: Excesse of all things, he joyd in her measure, Mourn'd when she mourn'd, and dieth when she dies. Like him I bound th' instinct of all my powers,

In her that bounds the Empire of desert, And Time nor Change (that all things else devoures,

But truth eterniz'd in a constant heart) Can change me more from her, then her from merit, That is my forme, and gives my being, spirit.

George Chapman.

Rosaliri s Complaint. 397

Praludium.

WE must sing- too? what Subject shal we chuse? Or whose great Name in Poets Heaven use, For the more Countenance to our Active Muse?

Hercules? alasse his bones are yet sore, With his old earthly Labors; /' exact more Of his dull Godhead, were Sinne: Lets implore

Phoebus? No: Tend thy Cart still. Envious Day S/ia/! not give out, tJiat we have made thee stay, And foundred thy Jiot Teame, to tune our Lay.

Nor will we beg of tliee, Lord of the Vine, To raise our spirites witJi thy conjuring Wine, In the green circle of thy Ivy twine.

Pallas, nor tliee we call on, Mankind Maide,

That (at thy birth} inad'st the poore Smith afraide,

Who with his Axe thy Fathers Mid-wife plaide.

Go, crampe dull Mars, ligJit Venus, when he snorts, Or with thy Tribade Trine, invent new sports, Thou, nor their loosenesse witJt our Making sorts.

Let the old Boy your sonne ply his old Taske Turne the stale Prologue to sonic painted Maske, If is Absence in our Verse is all ic>e aske.

Hermes the cheater, cannot niixe with us, TJwugli lie would steale Jiis sisters Pegasus, And rifle him; or pawne his Petasus,

398 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

Nor all the Ladies of the Thespian Lake,

{Though they were crusht into one formed could make

A Beaut}7 of that Merit, that should take

Our Muse up by Commission: No, we bring Our owne true Fire; Now our thought takes wing And now an Epode to deep eares we sing.

Epos.

Ot to know Vice at all, and keepe true state,

"Is Vertue; and not Fate: "Next to that Vertue, is, to know Vice well,

"And her blacke spight expell. Which to effecl (since no brest is so sure,

Or safe, but shee'l procure Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard

Of Thoughts, to watch and ward At th' Eye and Rare, (the Ports unto the Mind;)

That no strange or unkind Object arrive there, but the Heart (our spie)

Give knowledge instantly. To wakefull Reason, our Affections King:

Who (in th' examining) Will quickly taste the Treason, and commit

Close, the close cause of it. "Tis the securest Pollicie we have,

"To make our Sense our Slave. But this faire course is not embrac'd by many;

By many? scarce by any: For either our Affections do rebel 1,

Or else the Sentinel/, (That shal ring larum to the Heart} doth sleepe,

Qr some great Thought doth keepe

Rosaliri s Complaint. 399

Backe the Intelligence, and falsely sweares

They'r base, and idle Feares, Whereof the loyall Conscience so complaines

Thus by these subtill traines, Do severall Passions still invade the Mind,

And strike our Reason blind: Of which usurping ranke, some have thought Love,

The first; as prone to move Most frequent Tumults, Horrors, and Unrests,

In our enflamed brests. But this doth from their cloud of Error grow,

Which thus we overblow. The thing they here call Love, is blind Desire,

Arm'd with Bow, Shafts, and Fire; Inconstant like the Sea, of whence 'tis borne,

Rough, swelling, like a Storme: \Vith whome who failes, rides on the surge of Feare,

And boiles as if he were In a continuall Tempest. Now true Love

No such effects doth prove: That is an Essence most gentile, and fine.

Pure, per feel; nay divine: It is a golden Chaine let down from Heaven,

Whose linkes are bright, and even That fals like Sleepe on lovers; and combines

The soft and sweetest Minds In equal knots: This beares no Brands nor Darts

To murder different harts, But in a calm and God-like unitie,

Preserves Coinmunitie. O who is he that (in this peace) enjoyes

Th' Elixir of all joyes? (A forme more fresh then are the Eden bowers,

And lasting as her flowers: Richer then Time, and as Times Vertue rare,

Sober, as saddest Care,

400 Shake-speare England's Ulysses,

A fixed Thought, an Eye untaught to glance;)

Who (blest with such high chance) Would at suggestion of a steepe Desire

Cast himselfe from the spire Of all his Happinesse? But soft: I heare

Some vicious Foole draw neare, That cries we dreame; and sweares, there's no such thing

As this chaste Lore we sing. Peace Lux-uric > thou art like one of those

Who (being at sea) suppose Because they move, the Continent doth so:

No ( Vice) we let thee know, Though thy wild Thoughts with Sparrowes wings do flie,

"Turtles can chastly die; And yet (in this t'expresse our selfe more cleare)

We do not number here Such Spirites as are onely continent,

Because Lusts meanes are spent: Or those, who doubt the common mouth of Fame,

And for their Place, or Name, Cannot so safely sinne; Their CJiastitie

Is meere Necessities Nor meane we those, whom Voives and Conscience

Have fild with Abstinence : (Though we acknowledge who can so abstaine,

Makes a most blessed gaine: "He that for love of goodnesse hateth ill,

"is more Crowne-worthy still, "Then he which for sinnes Penaltie forbeares,

His Heart sinnes, though he feares.) But we propose a person like our Dore,

Grac'd with a Phwnix love: A beaut}' of that cleare and sparkling Light,

Would make a Day of Night, And turne the blackest sorrowes to bright joyes:

Whose Od'rous breath destroves

Rosaliri s Complaint. 401

All taste of Bitternesse, and makes the Ayre

As sweete as she is faire; A Bodie so harmoniously composde,

As if Nature disclosde All her best Symmetric in that one Feature:

O, so divine a Creature Who could be false too? chiefly when he knowes

How onely she bestowes The wealth}' treasure of her love in him;

Making his Fortunes swim In the full floud of her admir'd perfection?

What savage, brute Affection, Would not be fearefull to offend a Dame

Of this excelling frame? Much more a noble and right generous Mind,

(To vertuous moodes enclin'd) That knowes the weight of Guilt:1 He will refraine

From thoughts of such a straine: And to his Sence object this Sentence ever,

Man may securely sinne, but safely never?

Ben Johnson.

The Phoenix Analysde.2

NOw, after all, let no man Receive it for a Fable, If a Bird so amiable, Do turne into a Woman.

Or by our ( Turtles) Augure That Natures fairest Creature, Prove of his Mistris' Feature,

But a bare Type and Figure.

1 Cp. the Dramatis Personae of Hamlet, p. 201,

2 Cp. notes, p. 249.

26

402 Shake-speare England's Ulysses^

SPlendor! O more then mortall, For other formes come short all Of her illustrate brightnesse, As farre as Sinne's from lightnesse.

Her wit as quicke, and sprightfull As fire; and more delightfull Then the stolne sports of Lovers, When night their meeting covers.

Judgement (adorned with Learning) Doth shine in her discerning, Cleare as a naked vestall Closde in an orbe of Christall.

Her breath for sweete exceeding The Phoenix place of breeding, But mixt with sound, transcending All Nature of commending.

Alas: then whither wade I, In thought to praise this Ladie, When seeking her renowning, My selfe am so neare drowning?

Retire, and say; Her Graces Are deeper then their Faces: Yet shee's nor nice to shew them, Nor takes she pride to know them.

Ben: Johnson^

FINIS.

[APPENDIX II.]

SIR FRANCIS BACON HIS APOLOGIE,

IN

CERTAINE IMPUTATIONS,

CONCERNING

THE LATE EARLE OF ESSEX.

WRITTEN TO

'

THE RIGHT HONORABLE HIS VERY GOOD LORD THE EARLE OF DEVONSHIRE,

LORD LIEUTENANT OF IRELAND.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR FELIX NORTON, AND ARE TO BE SOLD IN PAUL'S CHURCHYARD AT THE SIGNE OF THE PAROT.

1604,

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HIS VERY GOOD LORD THE EARL OF DEVONSHIRE,

LORD LIEUTENANT OF IRELAND.

IT may please your good Lordship: I cannot be ignorant, and ought to be sensible, of the wrong which I sustain in common speech, as ii I had been false or unthankful to that noble but un- fortunate Earl, the Earl of Essex: and for satisfying the vulgar sort, I do not so much regard it; though I love good name, but yet as an handmaid and attendant of honesty and virtue. For I am of his opinion that said pleasantly, That it was a shame to him that was a suitor to the mistress, to make love to the waiting- woman; and therefore to woo or court common fame otherwise than it followeth upon honest courses, I, for my part, find not myself fit nor disposed. But on the other side, there is no world- ly thing that concerneth myself which I hold more dear than the good opinion of certain persons; amongst which there is none I would more willingly give satisfaction unto than to your Lord- ship. First, because you loved my Lord of Essex, and therefore will not be partial towards me; which is part of that I desire: next, because it hath ever pleased you to show yourself to me an honourable friend, and so no baseness in me to seek to satisfy ,you: and lastlj', because I know your Lordship is excellently grounded in the true rules and habits of duties and moralities; which must be they which shall decide this matter: wherein [my Lord] my defence needeth to be but simple and brief: namely, that whatsoever I did concerning that action and proceeding, was done in my duty and service to the Queen and the State; in which I would not show myself false-hearted nor faint-hearted for any man's sake living. For every honest man, that hath his heart well planted, will forsake his King rather than forsake God, and forsake his friend rather than forsake his King; and yet will forsake any earthly commodity, yea and his own life in some

2] Bacon s Apology.

cases, rather than forsake his friend. I hope the world hath not forgotten these degrees, else the heathen saying, Amiens usque ad aras, shall judge them. And if any man shall say that I did officiously intrude myself into that business, because I had no ordinary place; the like may be said of all the business in effect that passed the hands of the learned counsel, either of State or Revenues, these many years, wherein I was continually used. For, as your Lordship may remember, the Queen knew her strength so well, as she looked her word should be a warrant: and after the manner of the choicest princes before her, did not always tie her trust to place, but did sometime divide private favour from office. And .1 for my part, though I was not so un- seen in the world but I knew the condition was subject to envy and peril; yet because I knew again she wras constant in her fav- ours, and made an end where she began, and specially because she upheld me with extraordinary access, and other demonstra- tions of confidence and grace, I resolved to endure it in expecta- tion of better. But my scope and desire is, that your Lordship would be pleased to have the honourable patience to know the truth in some particularity of all that passed in this cause where- in I had auy part, that you may perceive how honest a heart I ever bare to my Sovereign and to my Country, and to that Noble- man, who had so well deserved of me, and so well accepted of my deservings; whose fortune I cannot remember without much grief. But for any action of mine towards him, there is nothing that passed me in my life-time that cometh to my remembrance with more clearness and less check of conscience; for it will ap- pear to your Lordship that I was not only not opposite to my Lord of Essex, but that I did occupy the utmost of my wits, and adventure my fortune with the Queen to have reintegrated his, and so continued faithfully and industriously till his last fatal impatience (for so I will call it), after which day there was not time to work for him; though the same my affection, when it could not work on the subject proper, went to the next, with no ill effect towards some others, who I think do rather not know it than not acknowledge it. And this I will assure your Lordship, I will leave nothing untold that is truth, for any enemy that I

Bacon s Apology. [3

have to add; and on the other side, I must reserve much which makes for me, upon many respects of dut}7, which I esteem above my credit: and what I have here set down to your Lordship, I protest, as I hope to have any part in Gpd's favour, is true.

It is well known, how I did many years since dedicate my tra- vels and studies to the use and (as I may term it) service of my Lord of Essex, which, I protest before God, I did not, making elec- tion of him as the likeliest mean of mine own advancement, but out of the humour of a man, that ever, from the time I had any use of reason (whether it were reading upon good books, or upon the ex- ample of a good father, or by nature)! loved ~sy country more than was answerable to my fortune, and I held at that time my Lord to be the fittest instrument to do good to the State; and therefore I applied myself to him in a manner which I think happeneth rarely amongst men: for I did not only labour carefully and industri- ously in that he set me about, whether it were matter of advice or otherwise, but neglecting the Queen's service, mine own for- tune, and in a sort my vocation, I did nothing but devise and ruminate with my selfe to the best of my understanding, proposi- tions and memorials of any thing that might concern his Lord- ship's honour, fortune, or service. And when not long after I entered into this course, my brother Master Anthony Bacon came from beyond the seas, being a gentleman whose ability the world taketh knowledge of for matters of State, specially foreign, I did likewise knit his service to be at my Lord's disposing. And on the other side, I must and will ever acknowledge my Lord's love, trust, and favour towards me; and last of all his liberality, hav- ing infeoffed me of land which I sold for eighteen hundred pounds to Master Reynold Nicholas, and I think was more worth, and that at such a time, and with so kind and noble circumstances, as the manner was as much as the matter; which though it be but an idle digression, yet because I am not willing to be short in commemoration of his benefits, I will presume to trouble your Lordship with relating to you the manner of it. After the Queen had denied me the Solicitor's place, for the which his Lordship had been a long and earnest suitor on m}7 behalf, it pleased him to come to me from Richmond to Twicknam Park, and brake with

4] Bacon s Apology.

me, and said: Master Bacon, the Queen hath denied me yon place for you, and hath placed another; I know you are the least part of your own matter,1 but you fare ill because you have chosen me for your mean and dependance; you have spent your time and thoughts in my matters; I die (these were his very words) if I do not somewhat towards your fortune: you shall not deny to accept a piece of land which I will bestow upon you. My answer I re- member was, that for my fortune it was no great matter; but that his Lordship's offer made me call to mind what was wont to be said when I was in France of the Duke of Guise, that he was the greatest usurer in France, because he had turned all his estate into obligations: meaning that he had left himself nothing, but only had bound numbers of persons to him. Now my Lord (said 1)1 would not have you imitate his course, nor turn your state thus by great gifts into obligations, for you will find many bad debtors. He bade me take no care for that, and pressed it: where- upon I said: My Lord, I see I must be your homager, and hold land of your gift; but do you know the manner of doing homage in law? always it is with a saving of his faith to the King and his other Lords; and therefore, my Lord (said I), I can be no more yours than I was, and it must be with the ancient savings: and if I grow to be a rich man, you will give me leave to give it back to some of your unrewarded followers. But to return: sure I am (though I can arrogate nothing to myself but that I was a faith- ful remembrancer to his Lordship) that while I had most credit with him his fortune went on best. And yet in two main points we always directly and contradictorily differed, which I will men- tion to your Lordship because it giveth light to all that followed. The one was, I ever set this down, that the only course to be held with the Queen, was by obsequiousness and observance; and I remember I would usually gage confidently, that if he would take that course constantly, and with choice of good particulars to ex- press it, the Queen would be brought in time to Assuerus ques- tion, to ask, What should be done to the man that the King- would honour: meaning that her goodness was without limit, where there

1 This is Bacon's own expression, i. 348. — Abbott.

Bacon s Apology. [5

was a true concurrance; which I knew in her nature to be true. My Lord on the other side had a settled opinion, that the Queen could be brought to nothing but by a kind of necessity and au- thority; and I well remember, when by violent courses at any time he had got his will, he would ask me: Now Sir, whose principles be true? and I would again say to him: My Lord, these courses be like to hot waters, they will help at a pang; but if you use them, yon shall spoil the stomach, and you shall be fain still to make them stronger and stronger, and yet in the end they will lesse their opera- tion; with much other variety, wherewith I used to touch that string. Another point was, that I always vehemently dissuaded him from seeking greatness by a military dependance, or by a popular dependance, as that which would breed in the Queen jeal- ousy, in himself presumption, and in the State perturbation: and I did usually compare them to Icarus' two wings which were join- ed on with wax, and would make him venture to soar too high, and then fail him at the height. And I would further say unto him: My Lord, stand upon two feet, and fly not upon two wings. The two feet are the two kinds of Justice, commutative and dis- tributive: use your greatness for advancing of merit and virtue, and relieving wrongs and burdens; you shall need no other art or fineness: but he would tell me, that opinion came not from my mind but from my robe. But it is very true that I, that never meant to enthral myself to my Lord of Essex, nor any other man, more than stood with the public good, did (though I could little prevail) divert him by all means possible from courses of the wars and popularity: for I saw plainly the Queen must either live or die; if she lived, then the times would be as in the declination of an old prince; if she died, the times would be as in the beginning of a new; and that if his Lordship did rise too fast in these courses, the times might be dangerous for him, and he for them. Nay, I remember I was thus plain with him upon his voyage to the Islands, when I saw every spring put forth such actions of charge and provocation, that I said to him: My Lord, when I came first unto you, I took you for a physician that desired to cure the diseases of the State; but now I doubt you will be like those phy- sicians which can be content to keep their patients low, because

6] Bacon s Apology.

they would always be in request: which plainness he nevertheless took very well, as he had an excellent ear, and was patientissimus vert, and assured me the case of the realm required it: and I think this speech of mine, and the like renewed afterwards, pricked him to write that apology which is in many men's hands.

But this difference in two points so main and material, bred in process of time a discontinuance of privateness (as it is the manner of men seldom to communicate where they think their courses not approved) between his Lordship and myself; so as I was not called nor advised with, for some year and a half be- fore his Lordship's going into Ireland, as in former time: yet nevertheless touching his going into Ireland, it pleased him ex- pressly and in a set manner to desire mine opinion and counsel. At which time I did not only dissuade, but protest against his going, telling him with as much vehemency and asseveration as I could, that absence in that kind would exulcerate the Queen's mind, whereby it would not be possible for him to carry himself so as to give her sufficient contentment; nor for her to carry her- self so as to give him sufficient countenance: which would be ill for her, ill for him, and ill for the State. And because I would omit no argument, I remember I stood also upon the difficulty of the action; setting before him out of histories, that the Irish was such an enemy as the ancient Gauls, or Britons, or Germans were, and that we saw how the Romans, who had such discipline to govern their soldiers, and such donatives to encourage them, and the whole world in a manner to levy them; yet when they came to deal with enemies which placed their felicity only in lib- erty and the sharpness of their sword, and had the natural and elemental advantages of woods, and bogs, and hardness of bod- ies, they ever found they had their hands full of them; and there- fore concluded, that going over with such expectation as he did, and through the churlishness1 of the enterprise not like to an- swer it, would mightily diminish his reputation: and many other reasons I used, so as I am sure I never in anything in my life- time dealt with him in like earnestness by speech, by writing, and by all the means I could devise. For I did as plainly see

1 curlishness, in original. — Abbott.

Bacon s Apology. [7

his overthrow chained as it were by destiny to that journey, as it is possible for any man to ground a judgment upon future con- tingents. But my Lord, howsoever his ear was open, yet his heart and resolution was shut against that advice, whereby his ruin might have been prevented. After my Lord's going, I saw how true a prophet I was, in regard of the evident alteration which naturally succeeded in the Queen's mind; and thereupon I was still in watch to find the best occasion that in the weakness of my power I could either take or minister, to pull him out of the fire if it had been possible: and not long after, methought I saw some overture thereof, which I apprehended readily; a par- ticularity I think be1 known to very few, and the which I do the rather relate unto your Lordship, because I hear it should be talked, that while my Lord was in Ireland I revealed some matter against him, or I cannot tell what; which if it were not a mere slander as the rest is, but had any though never so little colour, was surely upon this occasion. The Queen one daj^ at Nonesuch, a little (as I remember) before Cuffe's coming over, I attending her, showed a passionate distaste of my Lord's proceedings in Ireland, as if they were unfortunate, without judgment, con- temptuous, and not without some private end of his own, and all that might be, and was pleased, as she spake of it to many that she trusted least, so to fall into the like speech with me; where- upon I, who was still awake and true to my grounds which I thought surest for my Lord's good, said to this effect: Madam, I know not the particulars of estate, and I know this, that Princes' actions must have no abrupt periods or conclusions, but other- wise I would think, that if you had my Lord of Essex here with a white staff in his hand, as my Lord of Leicester had, and con- tinued him still about you for society to yourself, and for an honour and ornament to your attendance and Court in the eyes of your people, and in the eyes of foreign Embassadors, then were he in his right element: for to discontent him as you do, and yet to put arms and power into his hands, may be a kind of temptation to make him prove cumbersome and unruly. And

1 So in original. — Abbott.

8] Bacon s Apology.

therefore if you would imponere bonam clausulam, and send for him and satisfy him with honour here near you, if your affairs which (as I have said) I am not acquainted with, will permit it, I think were the best way. Which course, your Lordship know- eth, if it had been taken, then all had been well, and no contempt in my Lord's coming over, nor continuance of these jealousies, which that employment of Ireland bred, and my Lord here in his former greatness. Well, the next news that I heard was, that my Lord was come over, and that he was committed to his cham- ber for leaving Ireland without the Queen's license: this was at Nonesuch, were (as my duty was) I came to his Lordship, and talked with him privately about a quarter of an hour, and he asked mine opinion of the course was taken with him; I told him, My Lord, Nubecula est, cito transibit ; it is but a mist: but shall I tell your Lordship, it is as mists are, if it go upwards, it may haps cause a shower, if downwards, it will clear up. And there- fore good my Lord carry it so, as you take away by all means all umbrages and distastes from the Queen; and specially, if I were worthy to advise you (as I have been by yourself thought, and now your question imports the continuance of that opinion) observe three points: First, make not this cessation or peace which is concluded with Tyrone, as a service wherein you glory, but as a shuffling up of a prosecution which was not very fortunate. Next, represent not to the Queen any necessity of estate, whereby, as by a coercion or wrench, she should think herself inforced to send you back into Ireland, but leave it to her. Thirdly, seek access importune, opportune, seriously, sport- ingly, every way. I remember my Lord was willing to hear me, but spake very few words, and shaked his head sometimes, as if he thought I was in the wrong; but sure I am, he did just contrary in every one of these three points. After this, during the while since my Lord was committed to my Lord Keeper's, I came divers times to the Queen, as I had used to do, about causes of her revenue and law business, as is well known; by reason of which accesses, according to the ordinary charities of Court, it was given out that I was one of them that incensed the Queen against my Lord of Essex. These speeches, I cannot

Bacon s Apology. [9

tell, nor I will not think, that they grew any way from her Majesty's own speeches, whose memory I will ever honour; if they did, she is with God, and miserum est ab illis Icedi, de quibus nonpossis queri. But I must give this testimony to my Lord Cecil, that one time in his house at the Savoy he dealt with me directly, and said to me, Cousin, I hear it, but I believe it not, that you should do some ill office to my Lord of Essex; for my part I am merely pas- sive and not active in this action, and I follow the Queen and that heavily and I lead her not; my Lord of Essex is one that in nat- ure I could consent with as well as with anyone living: the Queen indeed is my Sovereign, and I am her creature, I may not leese her, and the same course I would wish you to take: whereupon I satisfied him how far I was from any such mind. And as some- times it cometh to pass, that men's inclinations are opened more in a toy, than in a serious matter: A little before that time, being about the middle of Michaelmas term, her Majesty had a purpose to dine at my lodge at Twicknam Park, at which time I had (though I profess not to be a poet) prepared a sonnet directly tend- ing and alluding to draw on her Majesty's reconcilement to my Lord, which I remember also I showed to a great person, and one of my Lord's nearest friends, who commended it: this, though it be (as I said) but a toy, yet it showed plainly in what spirit I proceeded, and that I was ready not only to do my Lord good offices, but to publish and declare myself for him; and never was so ambitious of an}^ thing in my life-time, as I was to have car- ried some token or favour from her Majesty to my Lord; using all the art I had, both to procure her Majesty to send, and myself to be the messenger: for as to the former, I feared not to allege to her, that this proceeding toward my Lord was a thing towards the people very implausible; and therefore wished her Majesty, howsoever she did, yet to discharge herself of it, and to lay it upon others; and therefore that she should intermix her proceed- ing with some immediate graces from herself, that the world might take knowledge of her princely nature and goodness, lest it should alienate the hearts of her people from her. Which I did stand upon, knowing very well that if she once relented to send or visit, those demonstrations would prove matter of sub-

IQ] Bacons Apology.

stance for my Lord's good. And to draw that employment upon myself, I advised her Majesty; that whensoever God should move her to turn the light of her favour towards my Lord, to make signification to him thereof, that her Majesty, if she did it not in person, would at the least use some such mean as might not in- title themselves to any part of the thanks, as persons that were thought mighty with her, to work her, or to bring her about; but to use some such as could not be thought but a mere conduct of her own goodness: but I could never prevail with her, though I am persuaded she saw plainly whereat I levelled; but she had me in jealousy, that I was not hers intirely, but still had inward and deep respects towards my Lord, more than stood at that time with her will and pleasure. About the same time I remember an answer of mine in a matter which had some affinity with my Lord's cause, which though it grew from me, went after about in other's names. For her Majesty being mightily incensed with that book which was dedicated to my Lord of Essex, being a story of the first year of King Henry the fourth, thinking it a seditious prelude to put into the people's heads boldness and faction, said she had good opinion that there was treason in it, and asked me if I could not find an}7 places in it that might be drawn within case of treason: whereto I answered: for treason surely I found none, but for felon}7 very many. And when her Majesty hastily asked me wherein, I told her the author had committed very apparent theft, for he had taken most of the sen- tences of Cornelius Tacitus, and translated them into English, and put them into his text. And another time, when the Queen would not be persuaded that it was his writing whose name was to it, but that it had some more mischievous author, and said with great indignation that she would have him racked to produce his author, I replied, Nay Madam, he is a Doctor, never rack his person, but rack his stile; let him have pen, ink, and paper, and help of books, and be enjoined to continue the story where it breaketh off, and I will undertake by collecting1 the stiles to judge whether he were the author or no. But for the main mat- ter, sure I am, when the Queen at any time asked mine opinion

1 So in original,

Bacon s Apology. [11

of my Lord's case, I ever in one tenour said unto her; That they were faults which the law might term contempts, because they were the transgression of her particular directions and instruc- tions: but then what defence might be made of them, in regard of the great interest the person had in her Majesty favour; in re- gard of the greatness of his place, and the ampleness of his com- mission; in regard of the nature of the business, being action of war, which in common cases cannot be tied to strictness of in- structions; in regard of the distance of place, having also a sea between, that demands and commands must be subject to wind and weather; in regard of a counsel of State in Ireland which he had at his back to avow his actions upon; and lastly, in regard of a good intention that he would allege for himself, which I told her in some religions was held to be a sufficient dispensation for God's commandments; much more for Princes': in all these re- gards, I besought her Majesty to be advised again and again, how she brought the cause into any public question: nay, I went further, for I told her, my Lord was an eloquent and well-spoken man, and besides his eloquence of nature or art, he had an elo- quence of accident which passed them both, which was the pity and benevolence of his hearers; and therefore that when he should come to his answer for himself, I doubted his words would have so unequal passage above theirs that should charge him, as would not be for her Majesty's honour; and therefore wished the conclusion might be, that they might wrap it up privately between themselves, and that she would restore my Lord to his former attendance, with some addition of honour to take away discon- tent. But this I will never deny, that I did show no approbation generally of his being sent back again into Ireland, both because it would have carried a repugnancy with my former discourse, and because I was in mine own heart fully persuaded that it was not good, neither for the Queen, nor for the State, nor for him- self: and yet I did not dissuade it neither, but left it ever as locus lubricus. For this particularity I do well remember, that after your Lordship was named for the place in Ireland, and not long before your going, it pleased her Majesty at Whitehall to speak to me of that nomination: at which time I said to her; Sure-

1 2] Bacons Apology.

ly Madam, if you mean not to employ my Lord of Essex thither again, your Majesty cannot make a better choice; and was going on to show some reason; and her Majesty interrupted me with great passion: Essex! (said she); whensoever I send Essex back again into Ireland, I will marry you, claim it of me: whereunto I said; Well Madam, I will release that contract, if his going be for the good of your State. Immediately after the Queen had thought of a course (which was also executed) to have somewhat published in the Star-chamber, for the satisfaction of the world touching my Lord of Essex his restraint, and my Lord of Essex not to be called to it, but occasion to be taken by reason of some libels then dispersed: which when her Majesty propounded unto me, I was utterly against it; and told her plainly, that the people would say that my Lord was wounded upon his back, and that Justice had her balance taken from her, which ever consisted of an accusation and defence, with many other quick and significant terms to that purpose: insomuch that I remember I said, that my Lord in foro Jamcz was too hard for her; and therefore wished her, as I had done before, to wrap it up privately. And certain- ly I offended her at that time, which was rare with me: for I call to mind, that both the Christmas, Lent, and Easter term follow- ing, though I came divers times to her upon law business, yet methought her face and manner was not so clear and open to me as it was at the first. And she did directly charge me, that. I was absent that day at the Star-chamber, which was very true; but I alleged some indisposition of body to excuse it: and during all the time aforesaid, there was altum silentium from her to me touching my Lord of Essex causes.

But towards the end of Easter term, her Majesty brake with me, and told me that she had found my words true: for that the pro- ceeding in the Star-chamber had done no good, but rather kindled factious bruits (as she turmed them) than quenched them, and therefore that she was determined now for the satisfaction of the world, to proceed against my Lord in the Star-chamber by an information ore tenus, and to have my Lord brought to his an- swer: howbeit she said she would assure me that whatsoever she did should be towards my Lord ad castigationcm, ct non ad dc-

Bacon 's Apology. [ 1 3

structionem; as indeed she had often repeated the same phrase before: whereunto I said (to the end utterly to divert her), Madam, if you will have me speak to you in this argument, I must speak to you as Friar Bacon's head spake, that said first, Time is, and then Time was, and Time would never be : for cer- tainly (said I) it is now far too late, the matter is cold and hath taken too much wind; whereat she seemed again offended and rose from me, and that resolution for a while continued; and after, in the beginning of Midsummer term, I attending her, and finding her settled in that resolution (which I heard of also otherwise), she falling upon the like speech, it is true that, seeing no other remedy, I said to her slightly, Why, Madam, if you will needs have a proceeding, you were best have it in some such sort as Ovid spake of his mistress, Est illiquid luce patent e minus, to make a counsel-table matter of it, and there an end; which speech again she seemed to take in ill part; but yet I think it did good at that time, and holp to divert that course of proceeding by in- formation in the Star-chamber. Nevertheless afterwards it pleased her to make a more solemn matter of the proceeding; and some few days after, when1 order was given that the matter should be heard at York-house, before an assembly of Counsellors, Peers, and Judges, and some audience of men of quality to be admitted, and then did some principal counsellors send for us of the learn- ed counsel, and notify her Majesty's pleasure unto us, save that it was said to me openly by one of them, that her Majesty was not yet resolved whether she would have me forborne in the bus- iness or no. And hereupon might arise that other sinister and untrue speech that I hear is raised of me, how I was a suitor to be used against my Lord of Essex at that time: for it is very true that I, that knew well what had passed between the Queen and me, and what occasion I had given her both of distate and dis- trust in crossing her disposition by standing stedfastly for my Lord of Essex, and suspecting it also to be a stratagem arising from some particular emulation, I writ to her two or three words of compliment, signifying to her Majesty, that if she would be pleased

1 §9 in original.— /{bbott. 27

14] Bacon s Apology.

to spare me in my Lord of Essex cause, out of the considera- tion she took of my obligation towards him, I should reckon it for one of her highest favours; but otherwise desiring her Majesty to think that I knew the degrees of duties, and that no particular obligation whatsoever to any subject could supplant or weaken that entireness of duty that I did owe and bear to her and her service; and this was the goodly suit I made, being a respect that no man that had his wits could have omitted: but nevertheless I had a further reach in it, for I judged that day's work would be a full period of any bitterness or harshness between the Queen and my Lord, and therefore if I declared myself fully according to her mind at that time, which could not do my Lord any manner of prejudice, I should keep my credit with her ever after, whereby to do my Lord service. Hereupon the next news that I heard was, that we were all sent for again, and that her Majesty's pleas- ure was, we all should have parts in the business; and the Lords falling into distribution of our parts, it was allotted to me, that I should set forth some undutiful carriage of my Lord, in giving occasion and countenance to a seditious pamphlet, as it was term- ed, which was dedicated unto him, which was the book before-men- tioned of King Henry the fourth. Whereupon I replied to that allotment, and said to their Lordships, that it was an old matter, and had no manner of coherence with the rest of the charge, be- ing matters of Ireland, and therefore that I having been wronged by bruits before, this would expose me to them more; and it would be said I gave in evidence mine own tales. It was answered again with good show, that because it was considered how I stood tied to my Lord of Essex, therefore that part was thought fittest for me which did him least hurt; for that whereas all the rest was mat- ter of charge and accusation, this only was but matter of caveat and admonition. Wherewith though I was in mine own mind little satisfied, because I knew well a man were better to be charg- ed with some faults, than admonished of some others: yet the con- clusion binding upon the Queen's pleasure directly volens nolens, I could not avoid that part that was laid upon me; which part if in the delivery I did handle not tenderly (though no man before me did so in so clear terms free my Lord from all disloyalty as I

Bacons Apology. [15

did), that, your Lordship knoweth, must be ascribed to the sup- erior duty I did owe to the Queen's fame and honour in a public proceeding, and partly to the intention I had to uphold myself in credit and strength with the Queen, the better to be able to do nry Lord good offices afterwards: for as soon as this day was past, I lost no time, but the very next day following (as I remember) I attended her Majesty, fully resolved to try and put in ure my utmost endeavour, so far as I in my weakness could give further- ance, to bring my Lord again speedily into Court and into favour; and knowing (as I supposed at least) how the Queen was to be used, I thought that to make her conceive that the matter went well then, was the way to make her leave off there: and I rem- ember well, I said to her, You have now Madam obtained victory over two things, which the greatest princes in the world cannot at their wills subdue; the one is over fame, the other is over a great mind: for surely the world be now, I hope, reasonably well satisfied; and for my lord, he did show that humiliation towards your Majesty, as I am persuaded he was never in his life-time more fit for your favour than he is now: therefore if your Majesty will not mar it by lingering, but give over at the best, and now you have made so good a full point, receive him again with tend- erness, I shall then think that all that is past is for the best. Whereat I remember she took exceeding great contentment, and and did often iterate and put me in mind, that she had ever said that her proceedings should be ad rcparationem and not ad ruinam, as who saith, that now was the time I should well perceive that that saying of hers should prove true. And further she willed me to set down in writing all that passed that day. I obeyed her commandment, and within some few days brought her again the narration, which I did read unto her at two several afternoons: and when I came to that part that set forth my Lord's own answer (which was my principal care), I do well bear in mind that she was extraordinarily moved with it, in kindness and relenting to- wards my Lord, and told me afterwards (speaking how well I had expressed my Lord's part) that she perceived old love would not easily be forgotten: whereunto I answered suddenly, that I hoped she meant that by herself, But in conclusion I did advise her,

1 6] Bacon s Apology.

that now she had taken a representation of the matter to herself, that she would let it go no further: For Madam (said I) the fire, blazeth well already, what should you tumble it? And besides, it may please you keep a convenience with yourself in this case; for since your express direction was, there should be no register nor clerk to take this sentence, nor no record or memorial made up of the proceeding, why should you now do that popularly, which you would not admit to be done judicially? Whereupon she did agree that that writing should be suppressed; and I think there were not five persons that ever saw it. But from this time forth, during the whole latter end of that summer, while the Court was at Nonesuch and Oatlands, I made it my task and scope to to take and give occasion for my Lord's reintegration in his for- tune: which my intention I did also signify to my Lord as soon as ever he was at his liberty, whereby I might without peril of the Queen's indignation write to him; and having received from his Lordship a courteous and loving acceptation of my good will and endeavours, I did apply it in all my accesses to the Queen, which were very many at that time, and purposely sought and wrought upon other variable pretences, but only and chiefly for that pur- pose. And on the other side, I did not forbear to give my Lord from time to time faithful advertisement what I found, and what I wished. And I drew for him by his appointment some letters to her Majesty, which though I knew well his Lordship's gift and stile was far better than mine own, yet because he required it, alleging that by his long restraint he was grown almost a stranger to the Queen's present conceits, I was ready to perform it: and sure I am that for the space of six weeks or two months it pros- pered so well, as I expected continually his restoring to his at- tendance. And I was never better welcome to the Queen, nor more made of, than when I spake fullest and boldest for him: in which kind the particulars were exceeding many; whereof, far an example; I will remember to your Lordship one or two: as at one time, I call to mind, her Majesty was speaking of a fellow that undertook to cure, or at least to ease my brother of his gout, and asked me how it went forwards: and I told her Majesty that at the first he received good by it, but after in the course of his cure

Bacon s Apology. [17

he found himself at a stay or rather worse: the Queen said again, I will tell you, Bacon, the error of it: the manner of these physi- cians, and especially these empirics, is to continue one kind of medicine, which at the first is proper: being to draw out the ill humour, but after they have not the discretion to change their medicine, but apply still drawing medicines, when they should rather intend to cure and corroborate the part. Good Lord Mad- am (said I), how wisely and aptly can you speak and discern of physic ministered to the body, and consider not that there is the like occasion of physic ministered to the mind: as now in the case of my Lord of Essex, your princely word ever was that you intended ever to reform his mind; and not ruin his fortune: I know well you cannot but think that you have drawn the humour suffi- ciently, and therefore it were more than time, and it were but for doubt of mortifying or exulcerating, that you did apply and min- ister strength and comfort unto him: for these same gradations of yours are fitter to corrupt than correct any mind of greatness. And another time I remember she told me for news, that my Lord had written unto her some very dutiful letters, and that she had been moved by them, and when she took it to be the abundance of the heart, she found it to be but a preparative to a suit for the renewing of his farm of sweet wines: whereunto I replied, O Mad- am, how doth your Majesty conster of these things, as if these two could not stand well together, which indeed nature hath plant- ed in all creatures. For there but two sympathies, the one to- wards perfection, other towards preservation. That to perfec- tion, as the iron contendeth to the loadstone: that to preservation, as the vine will creep towards a stake or prop that stands by it; not for any love to the stake, but to uphold itself. And there- fore, Madam, you must distinguish: my Lord's desire to do you service is as to his perfection, that which he thinks himself to be born for; whereas his desire to obtain this thing of you, is but for a sustentation. And not to trouble your Lordship with many other particulars like unto these, it was at the self-same time that I did draw, with my Lord's privity, and by his appointment, two letters, the one written as from my brother, the other as an an- swer returned from my Lord, both to be by me in secret manner

1 8] Bacons Apology.

showed to the Queen, which it pleased my Lord very strangely to mention at the bar; the scope of which were but to represent and picture forth unto her Majesty my Lord's mind to be such as I knew her Majesty would fainest have had it: which letters whoso- ever shall see (for they cannot now be retracted or altered, being by reason of my brother's or his Lordship's servants' delivery long since comen into divers hands) let him judge, specially if he knew the Queen, and do remember those times, whether they were not the labours of one that sought to bring the Queen about for my Lord of Essex his good. The troth is, that the issue of all his dealing grew to this, that the Queen, by some slackness oi my Lord's, as I imagine, liked him worse and worse, and grew more incensed towards him. Then she, remembering belike the continual and incessant and confident speeches and courses that I had held on my Lord's side, became utterly alienated from me, and for the space of at least three months, which was between Michaelmas and New-year's-tide following, would not as much as look on me, but turned away from me with express and purpose- like discountenance wheresoever she saw me; and at such time as I desired to speak with her about law-business, ever sent me forth very slight refusals; insomuch as it is most true, that immediate- ly after New-year's-tide I desired to speak with her; and being admitted to her, I dealt with her plainly and said, Madam, I see you withdraw your favour from me, and now that I have lost many friends for your sake, I shall leese you too: you have put me like one of those that the Frenchmen call cnfans perdus, that serve on foot before horsemen, so have you put me into matters of envy without place, or without strength; and I know at chess a pawn before the king is ever much played upon; a great many love me not, because they think I have been against my Lord of Essex; and you love me not, because you know I have been for him: yet will I never repent me, that I have dealt in symplicity of heart towards you both, without respect of cautions to myself; and therefore vivus vidensque pereo. If I do break my neck, I shall do it in manner as Master Dorrington did it, which walked on the battlements of the church many days, and took a view and survey where he should fall: and so Madam (said I) I am not so

Bacon s Apology. [19

simple but that I take a prospect of mine overthrow, only I thought I would tell you so much, that you may know that it was faith and not folly that brought me into it, and so I will pray for you. Upon which speeches of mine uttered with some passion, it is true her Majesty was exceedingly moved, and accumulated a number of kind and gracious words upon me, and willed me to rest upon this, Gratia mea sufficit, and a number of other sensible and tender words and demonstrations, such as more could not be; but as touching my Lord of Essex, ne verbum quidem. Where- upon I departed, resting then determined to meddle no more in the matter; as that that I saw would overthrow me, and not be able to do him any good. And thus I made mine own peace with mine own confidence at that time; and this was the last time I saw her Majesty before the eighth of February, which was the day of my Lord of Essex his misfortune. After which time, for that I per- formed at the bar in my public service, your Lordship knoweth by the rules of duty that I was to do it honestly, and without prevarication; but for any putting myself into it, I protest before God, I never moved neither the Queen, nor any person living, concerning my being used in the service, either of evidence or examination; but it was merely laid upon me with the rest of my fellows. And for the time which passed, I mean between the arraignment and my Lord's suffering, I well remember I was but once with the Queen; at what time, though I durst not deal di- rectly for my Lord as things then stood, yet generally I did both commend her Majesty's mercy, terming it to her as an excellent balm that did continually distil from her sovereign hands, and made an excellent odour in the senses of her people; and not only so, but I took hardiness to extenuate, not the fact, for that I durst not, but the danger, telling her that if some base or cruel- minded persons had entered into such an action, it might have caused much blood and combustion: but it appeared well they were such as knew not how to play the malefactors; and some other words which I now omit. And as for the rest of the car- riage of myself in that service, I have many honourable witness- es that can tell, that the next day after my Lord's arraignment, by my diligence and information touching the quality and nature

20] Bacon s Apology.

of the offenders, six of nine were stayed, which otherwise had been attainted, I bringing their Lordship's letter for their say, after the jury was sworn to pass upon them; so near it went: and how careful I was, and made it my part, that whosoever was in trouble about that matter, as soon ,as ever his case was suffi- ciently known and denned of, might not continue in restraint, but be set at liberty; and many other parts, which I am well assured of1 stood with the dut}' of an honest man. But indeed I will not deny for the case of Sir Thomas Smith of London, the Queen de- manding my opinion of it, I told her I thought it was as hard as many of the rest: but what was the reason? because at that time I had seen only his accusation, and had never been present at any examination of his; and the matter so standing, I had been very untrue to my service, if I had not delivered that opinion. But afterwards upon a re-examination of some that charged him, who weakened their own testimony; and especially hearing himself viva voce, I went instantly to the Queen, out of the soundness of my conscience, and not regarding what opinion I had formely de- livered, told her Majesty, I was satisfied and resolved in my conscience, that for the reputation of the action, the plot was to countenance the action further by him in respect of his place, than they had indeed any interest or intelligence with him. It is very true also, about that time her Majesty taking a liking of my pen, upon that which I had done before concerning the proceeding at York-house, and likewise upon some other declarations which in former times by her appointment I put in writing, commanded me to pen that book, which was publish- ed for the better satisfaction of the world; which I did, but so as never secretary had more particular and express directions and instructions in every point how to guide my hand in it; and not only so; but after that I had made a first draught thereof, and propounded it to certain principal counsellors, by her Majesty's appointment, it was perused, weighed, censured, altered, and made almost a new writing,2 according to their Lordship's better con- sideration; wherein their Lordships and myself both were as re-

1 So in original. 8 anezt>, writing in original.

Bacon 's Apology. [2 1

ligious and curious of truth, as desirous of satisfaction: and my- self indeed gave only words and form of style in pursuing their direction. And after it had passed their allowance, it was again exactly perused by the Queen herself, and some alterations made again by her appointment: nay, and after it was set to print, the Queen, who, as your Lordship knoweth, as she was excellent in great matters, so she was exquisite in small, and noted that I could not forget my ancient respect to my Lord of Essex, in terming him ever, My Lord of Essex, My Lord of Essex, in al- most every page of the book, which she thought not fit, but would have it made Essex, or the late Earl of Essex: whereupon of force it was printed de novo, and the first copies suppressed by her peremptory commandment. And this, my good Lord, to my furthest remembrance, is all that passed wherein I had part; which I have set down as near as I could in the very words and speeches that were used, not because they are worthy the repeti- tion, I mean those of mine own; but to the end your Lordship may lively and plainl}T discern between the face of truth and a smooth tale. And the rather also because in things that passed a good while since, the very words and phrases did sometimes bring to my remembrance the matters: wherein I report me to your honourable judgment, whether }TOU do not see the traces of an honest man: and had I been as well believed either by the Queen or by my Lord, as I was well heard by them both, both my Lord had been fortunate, and so had myself in his fortune.

To conclude therefore, I humbly pra}^ 3^our Lordship to pardon me for troubling 37ou with this long narration; and that you will vouchsafe to hold me in your good opinion, till you know I have deserved, or find that I shall deserve the contrary; and even so I continue

At your Lordship's honourable commandments very humbly.

[APPENDIX III.]

A DECLARATION OF THE PRACTICES AND TREASONS

ATTEMPTED AND COMMITTED BY

ROBERT LATE EARL OF ESSEX

AND HIS COMPLICES,

AGAINST HER MAJESTY AND HER KINGDOMS,

AND OF THE PROCEEDINGS AS WELL AT THE ARRAIGNMENTS AND CONVIC- TIONS OF THE SAID LATE EARL. AND HIS ADHERENTS, AS AFTER:

TOGETHER WITH THE VERY CONFESSIONS,

AND OTHER PARTS OF THE EVIDENCES THEMSELVES, WORD FOR WORD TAKEN OUT OF THE ORIGINALS.

IMPRINTED AT LONDON BY ROBERT BARKER, PRINTER TO THE QUEEN'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY.

ANNO 1601.

A DECLARATION

TOUCHING THE

TREASONS OF THE LATE EARL OF ESSEX AND HIS COMPLICES.

Though public justice passed upon capital offenders, according to the laws, and in course of an honourable and ordinary trial (w/iere tJic case would have borne and required the severity of martial law to have been speedily used}, do in itself carry a sufficient satisfac- tion towards all men, specially in a merciful government, such as her Majesty's is approved to be: yet because there do pass abroad in the hands of many men divers false and corrupt collections and relations of the proceedings at the arraignment of the late Earls of Essex and Southampton; and again, because it is requisite that the world do understand as well the precedent practices and induce- ments to the treasons, as the open and actual treasons themselves (though in a case of life it was not thought convenient to insist at the trial upon matter of inference or presumption, but chiefly upon matter of plain and direct proofs}; therefore it hath been thought fit to publish to the world a brief Declaration of the practices and treasons attempted and committed by Robert late Earl of Essex and his complices against her Majesty and her kingdoms, and of the proceedings at the convictions of the said late Earl and his adher- ents upon the same treasons : and not so only, but therewithal, for the better warranting and verifying' of t/ie narration, to set down in the end the very confessions and testimonies tJiemselves, word for word taken out of the originals, whereby it will be most man ifest that nothing is obscured or disguised, though it do appear by divers most wicked and seditious libels thrown abroad, that the dregs of

2~\ Bacons Declaration.

these treasons? which the late Earl of Essex himself, a little before his death, did term a Leprosy, that had infected far and near, do yet remain in the hearts and tongties of some misaffected persons.

THE most partial will not deny, but that Robert late Earl of Essex was by her Majesty's manifold benefits and graces, besides oath and allegiance, as much tied to her Majesty as the subject could be to the sovereign; her Majesty having heaped upon him both dignities, offices, and gifts, in such measure, as within the circle of twelve years or more there was scarcely a year of rest, in which he did not obtain at her Majesty's hands some notable addition either of honour or profit.

But he on the other side, making these her Majest)T's favours nothing else but wings for his ambition, and looking upon them not as her benefits but as his advantages, supposing that to be his own metal which was but her mark and impression, was so given over by God (who often punisheth ingratitude by ambition, and ambition by treason, and treason by final ruin), as he had long ago plotted it in his heart to become a dangerous supplanter of that seat, whereof he ought to have been a principal supporter; in such sort as now every man of common sense may discern not only his last actual and open treasons, but also his former more secret practices and preparations towards those his treasons, and that without any gloss or interpreter but himself and his own doings.

For first of all, the world can now expound why it was that he did aspire, and had almost attained, unto a greatness like unto the ancient greatness of the Prcefectus Prcetorio under the Em- perors of Rome, to have all men of war to make their sole and particular dependence upon him; that with such jealousy and watchfulness he sought to discountenance any one that might be a competitor to him in any part of that greatness; that with great violence and bitterness he sought to suppress and keep down all the worthiest martial men which did not appropriate their re- spects and acknowledgments only towards himself. All which did manifestly detect and distinguish, that it was not the repu- tation of a famous leader in the wars which he sought [as it was construed a great while], but only power and greatness to serve

Bacon s Declaration. [3

his own ends; considering he never loved virtue nor valour in another, but where he thought he should be proprietary and com- mander of it, as referred to himself.

So likewise those points of popularity which every man took notice and note of, as his affable gestures, open doors, making his table and his bed so popularly places of audience to suit- ors, denying nothing when he did nothing, feeding many men in their discontentments against the Queen and the State, and the like, as they ever were since Absalon's time the forerunners of treasons following, so in him were they either the qualities of a nature disposed to disloyalty, or the beginnings and conceptions of that which afterwards grew to shape and form.

But as it were a vain thing to think to search the roots and first motions of treasons, which are known to none but God that discerns the heart, and the devil that gives the instigation; so it is more than to be persumed (being made apparent by the ev- idence of all the events following) that he carried into Ireland a heart corrupted in his allegiance, and pregnant of those or the like treasons which afterwards came to light.

For being a man by nature of an high imagination, and a great promiser to himself as well as to others, he was confident that if he were once the first person in a kingdom, and a sea between the Queen's seat and his, and Wales the nearest land from Ire- land, and that he had got the flower of the English forces into his hands (which he thought so to intermix with his own follow- ers, as the whole body should move by his spirit), and if he might have also absolutely into his hands potestatcm vitce et necis and arbitrium belli et pads over the rebels of Ireland, whereby he might entice and make them his own, first by pardons and conditions, and alter by hopes to bring them in place where they should serve for hope of better booties than cows, he should be able to make that place of Lieutenancy of Ireland as a rise or step to ascend to his desired greatness in England.

Arid although many of these conceits were windy, yet neither were they the less like to his, neither are they now only probable conjectures or comments upon these his last treasons, but the very preludes of actions almost immediately subsequent, as shall be touched in due place.

4] Bacons Declaration.

But first, it was strange with what appetite and thirst he • did affect and compass the government of Ireland, which he did obtain. For although he made some formal shows to put it from him; yet in this, as in most things else, his desires being too strong for his dissimulations, he did so far pass the bounds of decorum, as he did in effect name himself to the Queen b}^ such description and such particularities as could not be applied to any other but himself; neither did he so only, but further he was still at hand to offer and urge vehemently and peremptorily exceptions to any other that was named. Then after he once found that there was no man but him- self (who had other matters in his head) so far in love with that charge as to make any competition or opposition to his pursuit, whereby he saw it would fall upon him, and especi- ally after himself was resolved upon, he began to make prop- ositions to her Majesty by way of taxation of the former course held in managing the actions of Ireland, especially upon three points; The first, that the proportions of forces which had been there maintained and continued by suipplk-s, were not sufficient to bring the prosecutions there to period. The sec- ond, that the axe had not been put to the root of the tree, in regard there had not been made a main prosecution upon the arch-traitor Tyrone in his own strength, within the province of Ulster. The third, that the prosecutions before time had been intermixed and interrupted with too many temporizing treaties, whereby the rebel did ever gather strength and rep- utation to renew the war with advantage. All which goodly and well-sounding discourses, together with the great vaunts that he would make the earth tremble before him, tended but to this, that the Oueen should increase the list of her arm}' and all proportions of treasure and other furniture, to the end his commandment might be the greater. For that he never intended any such prosecution may appear by this, that even The at the time before his going into Ireland he did open himself

cpnfes-so far jn speech to Blunt, his inwardest counsellor, That lie

sion of

Blunt, did assure lihnsclj t licit many of the rehcJs in Ireland would be

advised by him: so far was he from intending any prosecution

Bacons Declaration. [5

towards those in whom he took himself to have interest. But his ends were two: The one, to get great forces into his hands; the other, to oblige the heads of the rebellion unto him, and to make them of his party. These two ends had in themselves a repugnancy; for the one imported prosecution, and the other trea- ty: but he, that meant to be too strong to be called to account for anything, and meant besides when he was once in Ireland to engage himself in other journeys that should hinder the prosecu- tion in the North, took things in order as they made for him. And so first did nothing, as was said, but trumpet a final and utter prosecution against Tyrone in the North, to the end to have his forces augmented.

But yet he forgat not his other purpose of making himself strong by a party amongst the rebels, when it came to the scan- ning of the clauses of his commission. For then he did insist, and that with a kind of contestation, that the pardoning, no not of Tyrone himself, the capital rebel, should be excepted and re- served to her Majesty's immediate grace; being infinitely desir- ous that Tyrone should not look beyond him for his life or par- don, but should hold his fortune as of him, and account for it to him only.

So again, whereas in the commission of the Karl of Sussex, and of all other lieutenants or deputies, there was ever in that clause which giveth unto the lieutenant or deputy that high or re- gal point of authority to pardon treasons and traitors, an excep- tion contained of such cases of treason as are committed against the person of the King; it was strange, and suspiciously strange even at that time, with what importunity and instance he did la- bour, and in the end prevailed, to have that exception also omit- ted; glosing then, that because he had heard that by strict expos- ition of law (a point in law that he would needs forget at his arraignment, but could take knowledge of it before, when it was to serve his own ambition,) all treasons of rebellion did tend to the destruction of the King's person, it might breed a buzz in the rebel's heads, and so discourage them from coming in; whereas he knew well that in all experience passed, there was never rebel made any doubt or scruple upon that point to accept of pardon

28

6] Bacon s Declaration.

from all former governors, who had their commissions penned with that limitation (their commissions being things not kept secretly in a box, but published and recorded): so as it appeared manifestly that it was a mere device of his own out of the secret reaches of his heart then not revealed; but it may be shrewdly expounded since, what his drift was, by those pardons which he granted to Blunt the marshal, and Thomas Lee, and others that his care was no less to secure his own instruments than the re- bels of Ireland.

Yet was there another point for which he did contend and con- test, which was, that he might not be tied to any opinion of the Counsel of Ireland, as all others in certain points (as pardoning traitors, concluding war and peace, and some other principal ar- ticles) had been before him; to the end he might be absolute of himself, and be fully master of opportunities and occasions for the performing and executing of his own treasonable ends.

But after he had once by her Majesty's singular trust and fav- our toward him obtained his patent of commission as large, and his list of forces as full as he desired, there was an end in his course of the prosecution in the North. For being arrived into Ireland, the whole carriage of his actions there was nothing else but a cunning defeating of that journey, with an intent (as ap- peared) in the end of the year to pleasure and gratify the rebel with a dishonourable peace, and to contract with him for his own greatness.

Therefore not long a fter he had received the sword, he did voluntarily engage himself in an unseasonable and fruitless jour- ney into Munster, a journey never propounded in the Counsel there, never advertised over hither while it was past: by which journey her Majesty's forces, which were to be preserved entire both in vigour and number for the great prosecution, were har- assed and tired with long marches together, and the northern prosecution was indeed quite dashed and made impossible.

But yet still doubting he might receive from her Majesty some quick and express commandment to proceed; to be sure, he pur- sued his former device of wrapping himself in other actions, and so set himself on work anew in the county of Ophaley, being re-

Bacon s Declaration. [7

solved, as is manifest, to dally out the season, and never to have gone that journey at all: that setting forward which he made in the very end of August being but a mere play and a mockery, and for the purposes which now shall be declared.

After he preceived that four months of the summer and three parts of the army were wasted, he thought now was a time to set on foot such a peace as might be for the rebels' advantage, and so to work a mutual obligation between Tyrone and himself; for which purpose he did but seek a commodity. He had there with him in his army one Thomas Lee, a man of a seditious and working spirit, and one that had been privately familiar and entirely beloved of Tyrone, and one that afterwards, immediately upon Essex open re- bellion, was apprehended for a desperate attempt of violence against her Majesty's person; which he plainly confessed, and for which he suffered. Wherefore judging him to be a fit instrument, he made some signification to Lee of such an employment, which was no sooner signified than appre- hended by Lee. He gave order also to Sir Christopher Blunt, marshal of his army, to license Lee to go to Tyrone, when he should require it. But Lee thought good to let slip first unto Tyrone (which was nevertheless by the mar- shal's warrant) one James Knowd, a person of wit and suffi- ciency, to sound in what terms and humours Tyrone then was. This Knowd returned a message from Tyrone to Lee, which was, That if the Earl of Essex would follow Tyrone's CQ^_ plot, he would make the Earl of Essex the greatest man that fes- cvcr was in England: and further, tJiat if the Earl would*1?^-^ have conference with hint, Tyrone would deliver his eldest son Lee. in pledge for his assurance. This message was delivered by Knowd to Lee, and by Lee was imparted to the Earl of Essex, who after this message emploj^ed Lee himself to T}^- rone, and by his negotiating, (whatsoever passed else) pre- pared and disposed Tyrone to the parley.

And this employment of Lee was a matter of that guilt- in the iness in my Lord, as, being charged with it at my Lord j?on~ Keeper's only in this nature (for the message of Knowd sion

8] Bacon s Declaration.

of was not then known) that when he pretended to assail Ty-

Blunt

at the rone he had before underhand agreed upon a parley, my

kar>. n Lord utterly denied it that he ever employed Lee to Tyrone he did

then at all, and turned it upon Blunt, whom he afterwards re- quired to take it upon him, having before sufficiently pro- that vided for the security of all parts, for he had granted both ^d to Blunt and Lee pardons of all treasons under the great Essex seal of Ireland, and so, himself disclaiming it, and they be- h^sr ing pardoned, all was safe.

tic- But when that Tyrone was by these means (besides what r others God knows) prepared to demand a parley, now was rant the time for Essex to acquit himself of all the Queen's com- *°nd mandments, and his own promises and undertakings for the Lee, northern journey; and not so alone, but to have the glory at a5?ter_ the disadvantage of the year, being but 2500 strong of foot, wards and 300 of horse, after the fresh disaster of Sir Coniers ^f Clifford, in the height of the rebels' pride, to set forth to sired assail, and then that the very terror and reputation of my sex^o Lord of Essex person was such as did daunt him and make take it him stoop to seek a parley; and this was the end he shot at hFmn *n that September journey, being a mere abuse and bravery, self, and but inducements only to the treaty, which was the only 2^t matter he intended. For Essex drawing now towards the they catastrophe or last part of that tragedy for which he came ha(j upon the stage in Ireland, his treasons grew to a further par- ripeness. For knowing how unfit it was for him to commun- icate with any English, even of those whom he trusted most and meant to use in other treasons, that he had an intention to grow to an agreement with Tyrone to have succours from him for the usurping upon the state here, (not because it was more dangerous than the rest of his treasons, but be- cause it was more odious, and in a kind monstrous, that he should conspire with such a rebel against whom he was sent, and therefore might adventure to alienate men's affections from him,) he drave it to this, that there might be, and so there was, under colour of treaty, an interview and private conference between Tyrone and himself only, no third per-

Bacon s Declaration. [9

son admitted. A strange course, considering with whom he dealt, and especially considering what message Knowd had brought, which should have made him rather call witnesses to him than avoid witnesses. But he being only true to his own ends, easily dispensed with all such considerations. Nay there was such careful order taken that no person should overhear one word that passed between them two, as because the place appointed and used for the parley was such as there was the depth of a brook between them, which made them speak (with) some loudness, there were certain horse- men appointed by order from Essex to keep all men off a great distance from the place.

It is true that the secrec}r of that parley, as it gave to him the more liberty of treason, so it may give any man the more liberty of surmise what was then handled between them; inasmuch as nothing can be known but by report from one of them two, either Essex or Tyrone.

But although there were no proceeding against Essex upon these treasons, and that it w7ere a needless thing to load more treasons upon him then, whose burthen was so great after; yet for truth's sake, it is fit the world know what is testified touching the speeches, letters, and reports of Ty- rone, immediately following this conference, and observe also what ensued likewise in the designs of Essex himself. ^J|_

On Tyrone's part it fell out, that the very day after that tion Essex came to the Court of England, T}7rone having con- ^ Sir ference with Sir William Warren at Armagh, by way of dis- War- course told him, and bound it with an oath, and iterated it £®°j. two or three several times; That within two or three months fied he should see the greatest alterations and strangest that ever jjflder he saw in his life, or could imagine : and that he the said Ty- hand, rone hoped ere long to have a good share in E?igland. With *5°m this concurred fully the report of Richard Bremingham, a Coun- gentleman of the Pale, having made his repair about the ^e_oi same time to Tyrone to right him in a cause of land; saving land that Bremingham delivers the like speech of Tyrone to him- J° ™,e self; but not what Tyrone hoped, but what Tyrone had of the

lol Bacon s Declaration.

Coun- promised in these words, That he had promised (it may be here, thought to whom) ere long to show his face in England, little The to the good of England.

report These generalities coming immediately from the report of Bre- Tyrone himself, are drawn to more particularity in a con-

harrf" ^erence nad between the Lord Fitz-Morrice, Baron of Lik- to the snawe in Munster, and one Thomas Wood, a person well

reputed of, immediately after Essex coming into England. Estate In which conference Fitz-Morrice declared unto Wood, that

m Ire- Tyrone had written to the traitorous titulary Earl of Des-

land. •*

The niond, to inform him that the condition of that contract be-

con- tween Tyrone and Essex was, That Essex should be King

sion °J England; and that Tyrone should hold of him the honour

of and state of Viceroy of Ireland; and that the proportion of

Wood soldiers which Tyrone should bring or send to Essex, were

8,000 Irish. With which concurreth fully the testimony of

The the said James Knowde, who, being in credit with Owny

£°sn~ Mac Roory, chief of the Omoores in Lemster, was used as

sion a secretary for him, in the writing of a letter to Tyrone,

jfmes immediately after Essex coming to England. The effect of

Know- which letter was, To understand some light of the secret

e' agreement between the Earl of Essex and Tyrone, that he the

said Owny might frame bis course accordingly. Which letter,

with further instructions to the same effect, was in the pres-

ence of Knowde delivered to Turlagh Macdavy, a man of

trust with Owny, who brought an answer from Tyrone: the

contents whereof were, That the Earl of Essex had agreed to

take bis part, and that they should aid him towards the con-

quest of England.

Besides, very certain it is, and testified by divers cred-

ible persons, that immediate^ upon this parley there did

fly abroad as sparkles of this fire (which it did not concern

T\7rone so much to keep secret, as it did Essex) a general

and received opinion, that went up and down in the mouths

The both of the better and meaner sort of rebels, That the Earl

tio °f Essex was theirs, and they his; and that he would never

of Da- leave the one sword, meaning that of Ireland, till he had got-

Bacon s Declaration. [n

ten the other in England; and that he would bring them to vid serve, where they should have other manner of booties than ther- cows; and the like speeches. And Thomas Lee himself, ing~ (who had been, as was before declared, with Tyrone two or jarnes three days, upon my Lord's sending, and had sounded him) Kn°-

WQ

hath left it confessed under his hand, That he knew the an(j Earl of Essex and Tyrone to be one, and to run the same ot^- courses.

And certain it is also, that immediately upon that parley con- Tyrone grew into a strange and unwonted pride, and ap- g^ pointed his progresses and visitations to receive congratula- ofTh. tions and homages from his confederates, and behave him- ee' self in all things as one that had some new spirit of hope and courage put into him.

But on the Earl of Essex his part ensued immediately after this parley a strange motion and project, which though no doubt he had harboured in his breast before, yet for any- thing yet appeareth, he did not utter and break with any in it, before he had been confirmed and fortified in his purpose by the combination and correspondence which he found in Tyrone upon their conference. Neither is this a matter gathered out of reports, but confessed directly by two ofThe his principal friends and associates, being witnesses upon Of their own knowledge, and of that which was spoken to them-South~ selves: the substance of which confessions is this: That a ton little before my Lord's coming over into England;^ at the and castle of Dublin, where Sir Christopher Blunt lay hurt, hav- chris- ing been lately removed thither from Re ban, a castle of T/wmasioP^e* Lee's, and placed in a lodging that had been my Lord of 'South-

ampton's, the Earl of Essex took the Earl of Southampton sub- with him to visit Blunt, and there being none present but thcy*J^\^ three, my Lord of Essex told them, he found it now necessary which for him to go into England, and would advise with them <?.

1 Mr. Spedding here says, "According to the examination which bears Sir Christopher's signature, it was some few days before the Earl's journey into the North: which would imply a still more deliberate and inexcusable trea- son, and seems hardly credible. " — Abbott. But see above, p. 129.

12] Bacons Declaration.

by the manner of his going, since to go he was resolved. And amp- thereupon propounded unto tJieni, that he thought it Jit to carry ton with him of the army in Ireland as nuicli as Jie could convcni- Blunt cn*ly transport, at Jeast the choice of it, to the number of two touch- or three thousand, to secure and make good his lirst descent on E^ex shore, pin- posing to land them at Mil ford Haven in If'ti/es, or pur- thereabouts; not doubting, Intt tliat liis artny would so Increase \Q within a small time by sucJi as would come in to him, as lie have should be able to march with his power to London, and make port- /ll's own conditions as he thought good. But both Soi/thai/ip- ed in- ton and Blunt dissuaded him from this enterprise; Blunt al- Eng- leging the hazard of it, and that it would make him odions: land a)i(f Southampton utterly disliking of that course, upon the army sa///(' an(t many other reasons. Howbeit thereupon />///;// ad- of Ire- vised him rather to another course, which was to draw forth and' of the army some 200 resolute gentlemen, and with those to tne come over, and so to make sure of the Court, and so to make his ging own conditions. Which confessions it is not amiss to deliv- ofthater by what a good providence of God they came to light: sign f°r they could not be used at Essex arraignment to charge into him, because they were uttered after his death, other But Sir Christopher Blunt at his arraignment, being de- charged that the Earl of Essex had set it down under his sur. hand that he had been a principal instigator of him to his

Pris- treasons, in passion brake forth into these speeches: That

ing

the then lie must be forced to disclose what further matters he had

Qu~ held my Lord from, and desired for that purpose (because the and present proceeding sJiould not be interrupted] to speak witli the Court Lord Admiral and Mr. Secretary after his arraignment; and

so fell most naturally and most voluntarily into this his of Sir confession, which if it had been thought fit to have required ls~ of him at that time publicly, he had delivered before his pher conviction. And the same confession he did after (at the

time of his execution) constantly and fully confirm, dis- ar- course particularly, and take upon his death, where never merrt anv man showed less fear, nor a greater resolution to die. and And the same matter so by him confessed was likewise

Bacons Declaration. [13

confessed with the same circumstances of time and place the

OCCcLS"

by Southampton, being severally examined thereupon. j0n of

So as now the world may see how long since my Lord ^ put off his vizard, and disclosed the secrets of his heart to iing * two of his most confident friends, falling upon that unnat- *° ural and detestable treason, whereunto all his former actions afore- in his government in Ireland (and God knows how longbe-said fore) were but introductions. fes-

But finding that these two persons, which of all the restsions- he thought to have found forwardest, Southampton, whose , displacing he had made his own discontentment (having place placed him, no question, to that end, to find cause of dis-° contentment), and Blunt, a man so enterprising and prod-eralof igal of his owrn life (as himself termed himself at the bar),??6 did not applaud to this his purpose, and thereby doubting in the how coldly he should find others minded, that were not so ^^e_ near to him; and therefore condescending to Blunt's advice land to surprise the Court, he did pursue that plot accordingly, ™**_ and came over with a selected company of captains and ferred voluntaries, and such as he thought were most affectionate gx unto himself and most resolute, though not knowing of his upon purpose. So as even at that time every man noted and a^ut wondered what the matter should be, that my Lord took his ton most particular friends and followers from their companies, £^~ which were countenance and means unto them, to bring to her them over. But his purpose (as in part was touched be- J^es fore) was this; that if he held his greatness in Court, and ex- were not commited (which in regard of the miserable and conr* deplored estate he left Ireland in, whereby he thought the mand- opinion here would be that his service could not be spared, m he made full account he should not be) then, at the first opportunity, he would execute the surprise of her Majesty's person. And if he were committed to the Tower or to prison for his contempts (for besides his other contempts, he came over expressly against the Queen's prohibition under her signet), it might be the care of some of his principal friends, by the help of that choice and resolute company which he brought over, to rescue him.

14] Bacon s Declaration.

But the pretext of his coming over was, by the efficacy of his own presence and persuasion to have moved and drawn her Ma- jesty to accept of such conditions of peace as he had treated of with Tyrone in his private conference; which was indeed some- what needful, the principal article of them being, That there should be a general restitution of rebels in Ireland to all their lands and possessions, that they could pretend any rig-Jit to before their going out into rebellion, without reservation of such lands as were by Act of Parliament passed to the Crown, and so plant- ed with English, both in the time of Queen Mar}7, and since; and without difference either of time of their going forth, or nature of their offence, or other circumstance: tending in effect to this, That all the Queen's good subjects, in most of the provinces, should have been displanted, and the country abandoned to the rebels.

When this man was come over, his heart thus fraughted with treasons, and presented himself to her Majesty, it pleased God, in his singular providence over her Majesty, to guide and hem in her proceeding towards him in a narrow wa}7 of safety between two perils. For neither did her Majesty leave him at liberty, whereby he might have commodity to execute his purpose; nor restrain him in any such nature, as might signif}7 or betoken matter of despair of his return to Court and favour. And so the means of present mischief being taken away, and the humours not stirred, this matter fell asleep, and the thread of his pur- poses was cut off. For coming over about the end of September, and not denied access and conference with her Majesty, and then being commanded to his chamber at Court for some days, and from thence to the Lord Keeper's house, it was conceived that these were no ill signs. At my Lord Keeper's house he remained till some few days before Easter, and then was removed to his own house, under the custody of Sir Richard Barkley, and in that sort continued till the end of Trinity Term following.

For her Majesty all this while looking into his faults with the eye of her princely favour, and loath to take advantage of his great offences in other nature than as contempts, resolved so to proceed against him as might (to use her Majesty's own words) tend ad correctionem, et non ad rutnam.

Bacons Declaration. [15

Nevertheless afterwards, about the end of Trinity Term fol- lowing, for the better satisfaction of the world, and to repress seditious bruits and libels which were dispersed in his justifica- tion, and to observe a form of justice before he should be set at full liberty; her Majesty was pleased to direct, that there should be associate unto her Privy Counsel some chosen persons of her nobility, and of her judges of the law; and before them his cause (concerning the breaking of his instructions for the northern prosecution, and the manner of his treating with Tyrone, and his coming over and leaving the kingdom of Ireland contrary to her Majesty's commandment, expressed as well by signification there- of made under her ro}Tal hand and signet as by a most binding and effectual letter written privately to himself) to receive a hearing; with limitation nevertheless that he should not be charged with any point of disloyalty; and with like favour di- rected that he should not be called in question in the open and ordinary place of offenders in the Star Chamber, from which he had likewise by a most penitent and humble letter desired to be spared, as that which would have wounded him for ever as he affirmed, but in a more private manner at my Lord Keeper's house. Neither was the effect of the sentence that there passed against him any more than a suspension of the exercise of some of his places: at which time also, Essex, that could vary himself into all shapes for a time, infinitely desirous (as by the sequel now appeareth) to be at liberty to practise and revive his former pur- poses, and hoping to set into them with better strength than ever, because he conceived the people's hearts were kindled to him by his troubles, and that they had made great demonstrations of as much; he did transform himself into such a strange and dejected humility, as if he had been no man of this world, with passion- ate protestations that he called God to witness that he had made an utter divorce with the world, and he desired her Majesty's fav- our not for any ivorldly respect, but for a preparative for a Nunc dimittis; and that the tears of his heart had quenched in him all humours of ambition. All this to make her Majesty secure, and to lull the world asleep, that he was not a man to be held any ways dangerous.

i<5] Bacon s Declaration.

Not many days after, Sir Richard Barkley his keeper was removed from him, and he set at liberty; with this admonition only, That he should not take himself to be altogether discharg- ed, tJiougJi he were left to the guard of none but his own discre- tion. But he felt himself no sooner upon the wings of his liberty but (notwithstanding his former shows of a mortified estate of mind) he began to practise afresh, as busily as ever reviving his former resolution; which was the surprising and possessing the Queen's person and the Court. And that it may appear how early after his liberty he set his engines on work, having long before entertained into his service, and during his government in Ireland drawn near unto him in the place of his chief secretary, one Henry Cuffe, a base fellow by birth, but a great scholar, and indeed a notable traitor by the book, being otherwise of a turbulent and mut- inous spirit against all superiors:

This fellow, in the begining of August, which was not a month after Essex libert}7 granted, fell of practising with Sir Henry Nevill, that served her Majesty as leiger ambas- The sador with the French King, then newly come over into Eng- decla- land from Bulleyn; abusing him with a false lie and mere of Sir invention, that his service was blamed and misliked and that Hen- the imputation of the breach of the treaty of peace held at vill. Bulleyn was like to light upon him (when there was no col- our of any such matter), only to distate him of others and fasten him to my Lord; though he did not acquaint him with any particulars of my Lord's designs till a good while after. But my Lord having spent the end of the summer (being a private time, when everybody was out of town and dis- persed) in digesting his own thoughts, with the help and conference of Master Cuffe, they had soon set down between them the ancient principle of traitors and conspirators, which was, to prepare many, and to acquaint few; and, after the manner of mines, to make ready their powder and place it, and then give fire but in the instant. Therefore the first consideration was of such persons as my Lord thought fit

Bacon s Declaration. [17

to draw to be of his party; singling out both of nobility and martial men and others such as were discontented or turb- ulent, and such as were weak of judgment and easy to be abused, or such as were wholly dependants and followers (for means or countenance) of himself, Southampton, or some other of his greatest associates.

And knowing there were no such strong and drawing cords of popularity as religion, he had not neglected, both at this time and long before, in a profane policy to serve his turn (for his own greatness) of both sorts and factions, both of Catholics and Puritans, as they term them; turning his out- side to the one and his inside to the other, and making him- self pleasing and gracious to the one sort by proffessing zeal and frequenting sermons and making much of preach- ers, and secretly underhand giving assurance to Blunt, Davies and divers others, that (if he might prevaile in his The desired greatness) he would bring in a toleration of the Catholic religion. of

Then having passed the whole Michaelmas Term in mak- ing himself plausible, and in drawing concourse about him, and in affecting and alluring men by kind provocations and usage (wherein, because his liberty was qualified, he neither forgot exercise of mind nor body, neither sermon nor tennis- court, to give the occasion and freedom of access and con- course unto him) and much other practice and device; about the end of that term, towards Christmas, he drew to a more framed resolution of the time and manner, when and how he would put his purpose in execution. And first, about the end of Michaelmas Term, it passed as a kind of cipher and watchword amongst his friends and followers, That my Lord would stand upon his guard : which might receive construe- decla- tion in good sense, as well guard of circumspection as guard ratio.n of force; but to the more private and trusty persons he was Hen- content it should be expounded that he would be cooped uprY^e" no more, nor hazard any more restraints or commandments, and

But the next care was: how to bring such persons as he con"

ies- thought fit for his purpose into town together, without ventsionof

1 8] Bacon s Declaration.

sir . of suspicion, to be ready at the time when he should put his nando design in execution; which he had concluded should be some Gor- time in Hilary Term; wherein he found many devices to draw them up, some for suits in law, and some for suits in The Court, and some for assurance of land: and one friend to draw fes_ up another, it not being perceived that all moved from one sion head . And it may be truly noted, that in the catalogue of those unt. persons that were the eighth of February in the action of open rebellion, a man may find almost out of ever}' county of England some; which could not be by chance or constel- lation: and in the particular^ of examinations (too long to be rehearsed) it was easy to trace in what sort many of them were brought up to town, and held in town upon sev- eral pretences. But in Candlemas Term, when the time drew near, then was he content consultation should be had by certain choice persons, upon the whole matter and course which he should hold. And because he thought himself and his own house more observed, it was thought fit that the meeting and conference should beat Drury House, where Sir Charles Davers lodged. There met at this council, the Earl of Southampton, with whom in former times he had been at some emulations and differences in Court. But after, Southamptom having married his kins-woman, and plunged himself wholly into his fortune, and being his con- tinual associate in Ireland, he accounted of him as most as- sured unto him, and had long ago in Ireland acquainted him with his purpose, as was declared before. Sir Charles Dav- ers, one exceedingly dovoted to the Earl of Southampton, upon affection begun first upon the deserving of the same Earl towards him, when he was in trouble about the mur- ther of one Long. Sir Ferdinando Gorge, one that the Earl of Essex had of purpose sent for up from his government at Plymouth by his letter, with particular assignation to be here before the second of February. Sir John Davies, one that had been his servant, and raised by him, and that bare office in the Tower, being Surveyor of the Ordinance, and one that he greatly trusted: and John Littleton, one they respected for his wit and valour.

Bacon s Declaration. [19

The consultation and conference rested upon three parts: The The perusal of a list of those persons, whom they took to fes. be of their party: The consideration of the action itself which sions they should set afoot, and how they should proceed in it: chas.

And the distribution of the persons, according to the action Dav~

crs i concluded on, to their several employments. 2; ^

The list contained the number of sixscore persons, noble- John men and knights and principal gentlemen, and was (for the ieS)V2; more credit's sake) of the Earl of Essex own handwriting". sir

For the action itself, there was proposition made of two din principal articles: The one, of possessing the Tower of Lon- Gor, don: The other, of surprising her Majesty's person and t

Court; in which also deliberation was had what course to topher hold with the City, either towards the affecting of the sur- 2;U prise or after it was effected. South-

For the Tower was alleged, the giving a reputation to t0n at the action, by getting into their hand the principal fort of the the realm, with the stores and provisions thereunto apper- taining, the bridling of the City by that piece, and com- modity of entrance in and possessing it, by the means of Sir John Davies. But this was by opinion of all rejected, as that which would distract their attempt from the more principal, which was the Court, and as that which they made a judgment would follow incidently, if the Court were once possessed.

But the latter, which was the ancient plot (as was well known to Southampton), was in the end by the general op- inion of them all insisted and rested upon.

And the manner how it should be ordered and disposed was this: That certain selected persons of their number, such as were well known in Court, and might have access without check or suspicion into the several rooms in Court, according to the several qualities of the persons and the differences of the rooms, should distribute themselves into the Presence, the Guard-chamber, the Hall, and the utter Court and gate, and some one principal man undertaking

20] Bacon s Declaration.

every several room with the strength of some few to be joined with him, every man to make good his charge, according to the occasion. In which distribution, Sir Charles Davers was then named to the Presence and to the great chamber, where he was appointed, when time should be, to seize upon the halberds of the guard; Sir John Davies to the Hall; and Sir Christopher Blunt to the utter gate; these seeming to them the three princi- pal wards of consideration. And that things being with in the Court in a readiness, a signal should be given and sent to Essex to set forward from Essex House, being no great distance off. Whereupon Essex, accompanied with the noblemen of his party, and such as should be prepared and assembled at his house for that purpose, should march towards the Court; and that the for- mer conspirators already entered should give correspondence to them without, as well by making themselves masters of the gates to give them entrance, as by attempting to get into their hand upon the sudden the halberds of the guard, thereby hoping to prevent any great resistance within, and by filling all full of tu- mult and confusion.

This being the platform of their enterprise, the second act of this tragedy was also resolved; which was, that my Lord should present himself to her Majesty as prostrating himself at her feet, and desire the remove of such persons as he called his enemies from about her. And after that my Lord had obtained posses- sion of the Queen and the state, he should call his pretended enemies to a trial upon their lives, and summon a Parliament, and alter the government, and obtain to himself and his associ- ates such conditions as seemed to him and them good.

There passed speech also in this conspiracy of possessing the City of London, which Essex himself, in his own particular and secret inclination, had ever a special mind unto: not at a depar- ture or going from his purpose of possessing the Court, but as an inducement and preparative to perform it upon a surer ground. An opinion bred in him (as may be imagined) partly by the giv; t overweening he had of the love of the citizens; but chiefly, in all likelihood, by a fear that although he should have prevailed in getting her Majesty's person into his hands for a time with his

Bacon s Declaration. [21

two or three hundred gentlemen, yet the very beams and graces of her Majesty's magnanimity and prudent carriage in such disaster working with the natural instinct of loyal- ty, which of course (when fury is over) doth ever revive in the hearts of subjects of any good blood or mind (such as his troop for the more part was compounded of, though by him seduced and bewitched) would quickly break the knot, and cause some disunion and separation amongst them; whereby he might have been left destitute, except he should build upon some more popular number; according to the na- ture of all usurping rebels, which do ever trust more in the common people than in persons of sort or quality. .And this may well appear by his own plot in Ireland, which was to have come with the choice of the army, from which he was diverted, as before is showed. So as his own courses inclined ever to rest upon the main strength of the multi- tude, and not upon surprises, or the combinations of a lew.

But to return: These were the resolutions taken at that consultation, held by these five at Drury House some five or six days before the rebellion, to be reported to Essex, who ever kept in himself the binding and directing voice: which he did to prevent all differences that might grow by dissent or contradiction. And besides he had other persons (which were Cuffe and Blunt) of more inwardness and con- fidence with him than these (Southampton only excepted) which managed that consultation. And for the day of the enterprise, which is that must rise out of the knowledge of all the opportunities and difficulties, it was referred to Es- sex his own choice and appointment; it being nevertheless resolved that it should be some time before the end of Can- dlemas Term.

But this council and the resolutions thereof were in some points refined by Essex, and Cuffe, and Blunt: for first it Sir was thought good, for the better making sure of the utter ^nry gate of the Court, and the greater celerity and suddenness, vill's to have a troop at receipt to a competent number, to have?60" come from the Mews, where they should have been assem- tion, 29

22] Bacon s Declaration.

bled without suspicion in several companies, and from thence cast themselves in a moment upon the Court gate, and join with them which were within, while Essex with the main of his company were making forward.

It was also thought fit, that because they would be com- monwealth's men and foresee that the business and service of the public state should not stand still, they should have ready at Court and at hand certain other persons to be of- fered to supply the offices and places of such her Majesty's counsellors and servants as they should demand to be re- moved and displaced.

But chiefly it was thought good, that the assembling of their companies together should be upon some plausible pretext: both to make divers of their company, that under- stood not the depth of the practices, the more willing to follow them1 and to engage themselves; and to gather them together the better without peril of detecting or interrupt- ing: and again, to take the Court the more unprovided, without any alarm given. So as now there wanted nothing The but the assignation of the day: which nevertheless was re- con- solved indefinitely to be before the end of the term, as was sion said before, for the putting in execution of this most dan- of gerous and execrable treason. But God, who had in his nt> 3 a divine providence long ago cursed this action \vith the curse that the psalm speaketh of, That it should be like the untime- ly fruit of a woman, brought forth before it came to perfection, so disposed above, that her Majesty, understanding by a general churme3 and muttering of the great and universal resort to Essex House, contrary to her princely admonition, and somewhat differing from his former manner (as there could not be so great fire without some smoke), upon the seventh of February, the afternoon before this rebellion, sent to Essex House Mr. Secretary Harbert, to require him to come before the Lords of her Majesty's Council, then

1 Mr. Spedding annotates, "In the original there is a semicolon after 'them,' and a comma after 'themselves;' which must be a misprint. "- Abbott.

3 See p. 215 above.

3 Charme in the original. — Abbott.

Bacon s Declaration. [23

sitting in counsel at Salisbury Court, being the Lord Treasurer's house: where it was only intended that he should have received some reprehension for exceeding the limitations of his liberty granted to him in a qualified manner, without any intention to- wards him of restraint; which he, under colour of not being well, excused to do: but his own guilty conscience applying it that his trains were discovered, doubting peril in any further delay, de- termined to hasten his enterprise, and to set it on foot the next day.

But then again, having some advertisement in the evening that the guards were doubled at Court, and laying that to the message he had received overnight, and so concluding that alarm was taken at Court, he thought it to be in vain to think of the enterprise of the Court by way of surprise: but that now his only way was to come thither in strength, and to that end first to at- tempt the City. Wherein he did but fall back to his own former opinion, which he had in no sort neglected, but had formerly made some overtures to prepare the City to take his part; relying him- self (besides his general conceit that himself was the darling and minion of the people and specially of the City) more partic- ularly upon assurance given of Thomas Smith, then sheriff of London, a man well beloved amongst the citizens, and one that had some particular command of some of the trained forces of the City, to join with him. Having therefore concluded upon this determination, now was the time to execute in fact all that he had before in purpose digested.

First therefore he concluded of a pretext which was ever part of the plot, and which he had meditated upon and studied long before. For finding himself (thanks be to God) to seek, in her Majesty's government, of any just pretext in matter of state, either of innovation, oppression, or any unworthiness: as in all his former discontentments he had gone the beaten path of trait- ors, turning their imputation upon counsellors and persons of credit with their sovereign, so now he was forced to descend to the pretext of a private quarrel; giving out this speech, how that evening, when he should have been called before the Lords of the Council, there was an ambuscado of musketers placed upon the

24] Bacon s Declaration.

water by the device of my Lord Cobham and Sir Walter Raleigh, to have murdered him by the way as he passed. A matter of no probability; those persons having no such desperate estates or minds, as to ruin themselves and their posterity by committing so odious a crime.

Con- But contrariwise, certain it is Sir Ferdinando Gorge ac- sion cused Blunt to have persuaded him to kill, or at least ap- of Sir prehend, Sir Walter Raleigh; the latter whereof Blunt de- din_ nieth not, and asked Sir Walter Raleigh forgiveness at the ando time of his death.

ge But this pretext, being the best he had, was taken: and

then did messages and warnings fly thick up and down to every particular nobleman and gentleman, both that even- ing and the next morning, to draw them together in the forenoon to Essex House, dispersing the foresaid fable, That he should have been murdered; save that it was some- time on the water, sometime in his bed, varying according to the nature of a lie. He sent likewise the same night cer- tain of his instruments, as namely one William Temple,1 his secretary, into the City, to disperse the same tale, hav- ing increased it some few days before by an addition, That he should have been likewise murdered by some Jesuits to the number of four: and to fortify this pretext, and to make the more buzz of the danger he stood in, he caused that night a watch to be kept all night long towards the street, in his house. The next morning, which was Sunday, they came unto him of all hands, according to his messages and warnings. Of the nobility, the Earls of Rutland, South- ampton, and the Lord Sands, and Sir Henry Parker, com- monly called the Lord Mountegle; besides divers knights and principal gentlemen and their followers, to the number of some three hundreth. And also it being Sunday and the hour when he had used to have a sermon at his house, it gave cause to some and colour to others to come upon that occasion. As they came, my Lord saluted and embraced,

1 Mr. Spedding adds, "There were two Temples, Edward and William. I suspect it was Edward who was employed in this service." — Abbott.

Bacon s Declaration. [25

and to the generality of them gave to understand, in as plausible terms as he could, That his life had been sought, and that he meant to go to the Court and declare his griefs to the Queen, because his enemies were mighty, and used her Ma- jesty's name and commandment; and desired their help to takeThe his part; but unto the more special persons he spake high fession and in other terms, telling them That he was sure of M<?°ft^e,

rLarl OI

City, and would put himself into that strength that her Ma- Rut- jesty should not be able to stand against him, and that /^lan^- would take revenge of his enemies.

All the while after eight of the clock in the morning, the gates to the street and water were strongly guarded, and men taken in and let forth by discretion of those that held the charge, but with special caution of receiving in such as came from Court, but not suffering them to go back without my Lord's special direction, to the end no particularity of that which passed there might be known to her Majesty.

About ten of the clock, her Majesty having understanding of this strange and tumultuous assembly at Essex House, yet in her princely wisdom and moderation thought to cast water upon this fire before it brake forth to further incon- venience: and therefore using authorit}^ before she would use force, sent unto him four persons of great honour and place, and such as he ever pretended to reverence and love, _, to offer him justice for any griefs of his, but yet to lay herdecla- royal commandment upon him to disperse his company, and rrtj?n upon them to withdraw themselves. Lord

These four honourable persons, being the Lord Keeper Kee.?~

cr, trie

of the Great Seal of England, the Earl of Worcester, the Earl of Comptroller of her Majesty's household, and the Lord Chief Wor" Justice of England, came to the house, and found the gates the shut upon them. But after a little stay, they were let in at Q^ the wicket; and as soon as they were within, the wicket was Jus- shut, and all their servants kept out, except the bearer of ^^'er the seal. In the court they found the Earls with the rest their of the company, the court in a manner full, and upon their Jj^j1 coming towards Essex, they all flocked and thronged about oath of

:6] Bacon s Declaration.

the them; whereupon the Lord Keeper in an audible voice de- Chief livered to the Earl the Queen's message, That they were Justice sent by her Majesty to understand the cause of Ihis their as- voce. sembly, and to let them know thai if they had any particular

The cause of griefs against any persons whatsoever tJicy should decla- .

ration have hearing and justice.

of the Whereupon the Earl of Essex in a very loud and furious Wor- voice declared, That his life was sought* and that he should cester, nave been murdered in his bed, and that he had been perlidi- ously dealt withal; and other speeches to the like effect. To which the Lord Chief Justice said, If any such matter were attempted or intended against him, it was fit for him to de- clare it, assuring him both a faithful relation on their part, and that they could not fail of a princely in difference and justice on her Majesty's part.

To which the Earl of Southampton took occasion to object the assault made upon him by the Lord Gray: which my Lord Chief Justice returned upon him, and said, That in that case justice had been done, and the party was in prison for it.

Then the Lord Keeper required the Earl of Essex, that if he would not declare his griefs openly, yet that then he would impart them privately; and then they doubted not to give him or procure him satisfaction.

Upon this there arose a great clamour among the multi- tude: Away, my Lord; they abuse you, they betray you; they undo you; you lose time. Whereupon my Lord Keeper put on his hat, and said with a louder voice than before, My Lord, let us speak with you privately, and understand your griefs; and I do command you all upon your allegiance to lay down your weapons and to depart. Upon which words the Earl of Essex and all the rest, as disdaining commandment, put on their hats; and Essex somewhat abruptly went from him into the house, and the Counsellors followed him, think- ing he would have private conference with them as was re- quired.

And as they passed through the several rooms, they might hear many of the disordered company cry, Kill them, kill

Bacons Declaration. [27

them; and others crying, Nay, but shop them up, keep them as pledges, cast the great seal out at the window; and other such audacious and traitorous speeches. But Essex took hold of the occasion and advantage to keep in deed such pledges if he were distressed, and to have the countenance to lead them with him to the Court, especially the two great magistrates of justice and the great seal of England, if he prevailed, and to deprive her Majesty of the use of their counsel in such a strait, and to engage his followers in the very beginning by such a capital act as the imprisonment of Counsellors carding her Majesty's royal commandment for the suppressing of a rebellious force.

And after that they were come up into his book-chamber, he gave order they should be kept fast, giving the charge of their custody principally to Sir John Davis, but adjoined unto him a warder, one Owen Salisbury, one of the most seditious and wicked persons of the number, having been a notorious robber, and one that served the enemy under Sir William Stanley, and that bare a special spleen unto my Lord Chief Justice; who guard- ed these honourable persons with muskets charged and matches ready fired at the chamber-door.

This done, the Earl (notwithstanding my Lord Keeper still required to speak with him) left the charge of his house with Sir Gilly Mericke; and using these words to my Lord Keeper, Have patience for awhile, I will go take order with the Mayor and Sher- iffs for the City, and be with you again within half an hour, is- sued with his troop into London, to the number of two hundreth, besides those that remain in the house; choice men for hardiness and valour; unto whom some gentlemen and one nobleman did after join themselves.

But from the time he went forth, it seems God did strike him with the spirit of amazement, and brought him round again to the place whence he first moved.

For after he had once by Ludgate entered into the City, he never had so much as the heart or assurance to speak any set or confident speech to the people, (but repeated only over and over his tale as he passed by, that he should have been murthered, ) nor to do any act of foresight or courage; but he that had vowed he would

28] Bacon s Declaration.

never be cooped up more, cooped himself first within the walls of the City, and after within the walls of an house, as arrested The by God's justice as an example of disloyalty. For passing fession through Cheapside, and so towards Smith's house, and find- of the ing} though some came about him, yet none joined or armed Rut- with him, he provoked them by speeches as he passed to land. arrri) telling them, They did him hurt and no good, to come Lord about him with no weapons.

San- J3uf- there was not in so populous a city, where he thought himselfe held so dear, one man, from the chiefest citizen to the meanest artificer or prentice, that armed with him: so as being extremely appalled, as divers that happened to see him then might visibl\T perceive in his face and countenance, and almost moulten with sweat, though without any cause of bodily labour but only by the perplexity and horror of his mind, he came to Smith's house the sheriff, where he re- freshed himself a little and shifted him.

But the meanwhile it pleased God that her Majesty's di- rections at Court, though in a case so strange and sudden, were judicial and sound. For first there was commandment in the morning given unto the City, that every man should be in a readiness both in person and armour, but yet td keep within his own door, and to expect commandment; up- on a reasonable and politic consideration, that had they armed suddenly in the streets, if there were any ill-dispos- ed persons, they might arm on the one side and turn on the other, or at least if armed men had been seen to and fro, it would have bred a greater tumult, and more bloodshed; and the nakedness of Essex troop whold not have so well ap- peared.

And soon after, direction was given that the Lord Burgh- ley, taking with him the King of Hearlds, should declare him traitor in the principal parts of the City; which was performed with good expedition and resolution, and the loss and hurt of some of his company. Besides that, the Earl of Cumberland, and Sir Thomas Gerard, Knight-marshal, rode into the City, and declared and notified to the people

Bacons Declaration. [29

that he was a traitor: from which time divers of his troop withdrawing from him, and none other coming in to him, there was nothing but despair. For having stayed awhile, as is said, at Sheriff Smith's house, and there changing his

pretext of a private quarrel, and publishing That the realm The

con- shoiihl have been sold to the Infanta, the better to spur on fession

the people to rise, and [having] called and given command- of the ment to have brought arms and weapons of all sorts, and Rut- been soon after advertised of the proclamation, he cameland-

Essex lorth in a hurry. con.

So having made some stay in Gracious Street, and being fession dismayed upon knowledge given to him that forces were bar. coming forwards against him under the conduct of the Lord Admiral, the Lieutenant of her Majesty's forces, and not knowing what course to take, he determined in the end to go back towards his own house, as well in hope to have found the Counsellors there, and by them to have served some turn, as upon trust that towards night his friends in the City would gather their spirits together and rescue him, as himself declared after to M. Lieutenant of the Tower.

But for the Counsellors, it had pleased God to make one of the principal offenders his instrument for their delivery; who seeing my Lord's case desperate, and contriving how to redeem his fault and save himself, came to Sir John Dav- is and Sir Gilly Mericke, as sent from my Lord; and so pro- cured them to be released.

But the Earl of Essex, with his company that was left, thinking to recover his house, made on by land towards Ludgate; where being resisted by a company of pikemen and other forces, gathered together by the wise and diligent care of the Bishop of London, and commanded by Sir John Luson, and yet attempting to clear the passage, he was with no great difficulty repulsed. At which encounter Sir Christo- pher Blunt was sore wTounded, and young Tracy slain, on his part; and one Waits on the Queen's part, and some oth- er. Upon which repulse he went back and fled towards the water side, and took boat at Queenhive, and so was receiv-

30] Bacon s Declaration.

ed into Essex House, at the Watergate, which he fortified and barricado'd; but instantly the Lord Lieutenant so disposed his companies, as all passage and issue forth was cut off from him both by land and water, and all succours that he might hope for were discouraged: and leaving the Earl of Cumberland, the Earl of Lincoln, the Lord Thomas Howard, the Lord Gray, the Lord Burghley, and the Lord Compton, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Thom- as Gerrard, with divers others, before the house to landward, my Lord Lieutenant himself thought good, taking with him the Lord of Effingham, Lord Cobham, Sir John Stanhope, Sir Rob- ert Sidney, M. Foulk Grevill, with divers others, to assail the garden and banquetting-house on the waterside, and presently forced the garden, and won to the walls of the house, and was ready to have assailed the house; but out of a Christian and hon- ourable consideration, understanding that there were in the house the Countess of Essex, and the Lady Rich, with their gentlewo- men, let the Earl of Essex know by Sir Robert Sidney, that he was content to suffer the ladies and gentlewomen to come forth. Whereupon Essex, returning the Lord Lieutenant thanks for the compassion and care he had of the ladies, desired only to have an hour's respite to make way for their going out, and an hour aft- er to barricade the place again. Which because it could make no alteration to the hindrance of the service, the Lord Lieutenant thought good to grant. But Essex, having had some talk within of a sally, and despairing of the success, and thinking better to yield himself, sent word that upon some conditions he would yield. But the Lord Lieutenant utterly refusing to hear of capitula- tions, Essex desired to speak with my Lord, who thereupon went up close to the house; and the late Earls of Essex and Southamp- ton, with divers other lords and gentlemen their partakers, pre- sented themselves upon the leads: and Essex said, he would not capitulate, but entreat; and made three petitions. The first, That they might be civilly used: whereof the Lord Lieutenant as- sured them. The second, That they might have an houronable trial: whereof the Lord Lieutenant answered they needed not to doubt. The third, That he might have Ashton a preacher with him in prison for the comfort of his soul: which the Lord Lieutenant

Bacons Declaration. [31

said he would move to her Majesty, not doubting of the matter of his request, though he could not absolutely promise him that person.1 Whereupon they all, with the ceremony amongst mar- tial men accustomed, came down and submitted themselves and yielded up their swords, which was about ten of the clock at night; there having been slain in holding of the house, by musket shot, Owen Salisbury, and some few more on the part of my Lord, and some few likewise slain and hurt on the Queen's part: and presently, as well the Lords as the rest of their confederates of quality were severally taken into the charge of divers particular lords and gentlemen, and by them conveyed to the Tower and other prisons.

So as this action, so dangerous in respect of the person of the leader, the manner of the combination, and the intent of the plot, brake forth and ended within the compass of twelve hours, and with the loss of little blood, and in such sort as the next day all courts of justice were open, and did sit in their accustomed manner; giving good subjects and all reasonable men just cause to think, not the less of the offenders' treason, but the more of her Majesty's priencely magnanimit}^ and prudent foresight in so great a peril; and chiefly of God's goodness, that hath blssed her Majesty in this, as in many things else, with so rare and divine felicity.

1 "Whereas the Earl of Essex desired to have a chaplain of his own sent un- to him to give him sacrificial comfort, wherein the Lord Admiral hath moved her Majesty; but his own chaplain being evil at ease, Dr. Don, the Dean of Norwich, is sent unto him to attend there, for whose diet and lodging the Lieuten- ant of the Tower is to take order." — Letter to Lord Thomas Howard, Constable of the Tower of Londen. Feb. 16. Council Reg. Eliz. No. 17, fol. 83. I quote from a copy. — Abbott.

INDEX OF THE SONNETS

AND THEIR

DISPOSITION IN THE MASQUE.

LABYRINTH. MASQUE.

Sonnet 1 Page 78

" 2 " 76

" 3 " 144

" 4 " 115

...5 " 146

__6__ . " 74

7__ " 117

___8 " 48

9__ . " 49

" 10 " 80

" 11 " 46

" 12 " 145

" 13 " 77

" 14 _ " 27

" 15. _ " 114

" 16 " 34

" 17.. . " . .116

" 18 " 118

" 19 " 168

" .20 " __.... 95

" 21 " 58

" 22 " 111

" 23 " 30

" 24 " 127

" 25 " 26

" 26 " 20

" 27 " 137

" 28 " 137

" 29 " 123

" 30 " 167

" 31 " 172

" 32 " 98

..33-. . " . .93

LABYRINTH. MASQUE.

Sonnet 34 Page 109

" 35 " 52

" 36 " 40

" 37 " 36

" 38__ " 166

" 39. _ . 41

...40 " 158

" 41 " 138

" 42._ " 102

" 43 " 38

" 44 " 62

" 45 " 64

" 46 " 126

" 47 " 128

" 48 " 61

... 49_. " 107

" 50 " 63

" . ...51._ " 65

" 52 " 35

" 53.. ... " 91

" 54__ " 134

" 55 " 173

" 56 " 37

" 57 " 31

" 58 " 29

" 59 " 56

" 60 " 53

l< 61 " 157

" 62 " 32

" 63 " 47

" 64 " 45

" 65 " 28

_.66_. <( . .70

Index.

LABYRINTH. MASQUE.

Sonnet 67 Page 163

" 68 " 165

" 69 ... " 83

" 70 " 85

__71___ " 139

" 72._.___ " 75

....73 " r____105

" 74 " 42

" 75 " 79

" 76 " 108

" 77 " 20

" 78 " 133

__79__ " 141

" 80 " 150

81 " 171

" 82 " 131

83 " 120

84 " 147

" 85 " 84

" 86 " 130

" 87 " 125

" 88 " 140

" 89 " 152

90 " 143

" 91 " 82

" 92 " 97

" 93 " 99

" 94 " 112

" 95 " 124

" 96 " 142

" 97. _ _._ " 104

" 98 " 135

" 99 " 135

" 100__ " 155

" 101 " 159

" 102 " 136

" 103 " 66

" _.__104 " 110

" 105 " 33

" 106 " 119

" 107__ " 121

" __.-108____ " 169

" 109 " 100

__110__ ,.."". .88

LABYRINTH. MASQUE.

Sonnet lll._ ..Page.. _ 51

112. .113. .114. .115. .116. .117. .118. .119. 120. .121. 122. 123. .124. 125. .126.

148

106

94

149

129

86

156

122

153

96

.... 170 .... 81

57

54

.. 113

....127 ....160

128 " 59

129 " 39

130 " 161

131 " . 164

132._ .._ " 162

133 " 101

....134 " 103

135 " 154

136 " 44

137 " 67

138 " 60

139 " 89

140 " 90

141 " 87

142 " 69

143 " 73

144 " 92

145 " 72

....146 " 55

147 " 71

148 " 132

149._.__. " 43

150___"_._ " 151

151 " 50

152 " 68

....153 (< 174

__154__ .. " ', ..174

14 DAY USE

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LOAN DEPT.

This book is due on the last date stamped below, or

on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall.

LIBRARY USE
MAY 2 9 1957
F EC'D tS
HAY 29 1961
-rtWWtM
22^w» v
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LD 21-100m-6,'56 (B9311slO)476

General Library

University of California

Berkeley

YC 14054

LIBRARY USE

RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED

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