"As he was thus sadly debating the Matter unto hymselfe, the Kinge
   came behynd hym, and overheard most of that which he sayd, who at
   length stepped before him, and asked him, How now Perrott (quoth the
   Kinge) what is the matter that you make this great Moane? To whom Sir
   John Perrott answered, And it lyke your Majestie, I did not thinck
   that your Highness had byn there. Yes, said the Kinge, we heard you
   well inough: And have you spent your Livinge in our Service, and is
   the Kinge so younge, and under Government, that he cannot give you
   any Thinge in Recompence of your Service? Spie out somewhat, and you
   shall see whether the Kinge hath not Power to bestow it on you. Then
   he most humbly thanked his Majestie and shortly after founde out a
   Concealment, which as soon as he sought, the Kinge bestowed it on
   hym, wherewith he paid the most part of his Debtes; and for always
   after he became a better Husband. This story Sir John Perrott would
   sometimes recounte unto his Frends, acknowledging it a greate
   Blessinge of God, that had given him Grace in Time to look into his
   decaying Estate."

Comparison of this biographical incident with the following passage from
_The Troublesome Raigne_ not only reveals the source of the dramatist's
inspiration but also accounts for a scene that has appeared peculiar to
many critics.

   K. JOHN. Ask Philip whose son he is.

   ESSEX. Philip, who was thy father?

   PHILIP. Mass, my lord, and that's a question: and you had not taken
   some pains with her before, I should have desired you to ask my
   mother.

   K. JOHN.. Say, who was thy father?

   PHILIP. Faith, my lord, to answer you sure, he is my father that was
   nearest my mother when I was gotten; and him I think to be Sir
   Robert Falconbridge.

   K. JOHN. Essex, for fashion's sake demand again: And so an end to
   this contention.

   ROBERT. Was ever man thus wrong'd as Robert is?

   ESSEX. Philip! Speak, I say; who was thy father?

   K. JOHN. Young man, how now? what! art thou in a trance?

   Q. ELINOR. Philip, awake! The man is in a dream.

   PHILIP. Philippus, atavis edite Regibus. (_Aside._)
   What say'st thou: Philip, sprung of ancient Kings?
   Quo me rapit tempestas?
   What wind of honour blows this fury forth,
   Or whence proceed these fumes of majesty?
   Methinks I hear a hollow echo sound,
   That Philip is the son unto a King:
   The whistling leaves upon the trembling trees
   Whistle in concert I am Richard's son;
   The bubbling murmur of the water's fall
   Records Philippus Regis filius;
   Birds in their flight make music with their wings,
   Filling the air with glory of my birth;
   Birds, bubbles, leaves and mountains, echo, all
   Ring in mine ears, that I am Richard's son.
   Fond man, ah, whither art thou carried?
   How are thy thoughts yrapt in Honour's heaven?
   Forgetful what thou art, and whence thou cam'st?
   Thy father's land cannot maintain these thoughts;
   These thoughts are far unfitting Falconbridge;
   And well they may; for why this mounting mind
   Doth soar too high to stoop to Falconbridge
   Why, how now? Knowest thou where thou art?
   And know'st thou who expects thine answer here?
   Wilt thou, upon a frantic madding vein,
   Go lose thy land, and say thyself base-born?
   No, keep thy land, though Richard were thy sire;
   Whate'er thou think'st say thou art Falconbridge.

   K. JOHN. Speak, man! be sudden, who thy father was.

   PHILIP. Please it your Majesty, Sir Robert ...
   Philip, that Falconbridge cleaves to thy jaws: (_Aside_)
   It will not out; I cannot for my life
   Say I am son unto a Falconbridge.
   Let land and living go! 'tis Honour's fire
   That makes me swear King Richard was my sire.
   Base to a King, adds title of more state,
   Than knight's begotten, though legitimate.
   Please it your Grace, I am King Richard's son.

While it is generally agreed by text critics that Shakespeare's _King
John_ was drastically revised in about 1596, the metrical tests and the
scarcity of classical allusions denote its composition at about the same
period as that of the original composition of _Richard II._; and though
the later time revision of both of these plays has no doubt replaced
much of Shakespeare's earlier work in them with matter of a later time,
an early date for their original composition is very evident. I
therefore assign the original composition of _King John_ to the early
part of the year 1591, and believe, that in writing this play
Shakespeare worked from a copy of _The Troublesome Raigne of King John_,
and that he followed, and still further developed, the original
intention of that play regarding the interests of Sir John Perrot. It is
evident that _King John_ was written at the time _The Troublesome
Raigne_ was published in 1591, and that the play was Burbage property
when it was published. A play was not as a rule published until it had
outrun its interest upon the stage, or had been replaced by a new play
upon the same subject.

While records of Henslowe's affiliations with Lord Strange's and the
Admiral's companies do not appear in his _Diary_ until February 1592,
when the Rose Theatre was ready for their occupancy, it is likely that
their connection commenced in the previous year and that his
affiliations with the Queen's company ended at the same time. The number
of old plays formerly owned by the Queen's company that came into the
hands of Strange's, the Admiral's, and Pembroke's men at this time were
probably purchased from Henslowe, upon the reorganisation of companies
in 1591-92, or else were brought to these companies as properties by
Queen's men who joined them upon the disruption of this large and
powerful company at this period. Gabriel Spencer, Humphrey Jeffes, and
John Sinkler, whose names are mentioned in _The True Tragedy of the Duke
of York_, were evidently old Queen's men, the former two joining
Pembroke's men, and Sinkler, Strange's men at this time. The entry of
their names as actors in this play was evidently made while it was a
Queen's property and when the Queen's company acted under Henslowe's
auspices at the Rose Theatre between 1587 and 1591. Both Jeffes and
Spencer rejoined Henslowe upon the new reorganisation of companies in
1594, and continued to perform with him and the Lord Admiral's men as
Pembroke's men until 1597, when they became Admiral's men. After Spencer
was killed in a duel by Ben Jonson in 1598, his widow continued to be a
protégé or pensioner of Henslowe's for some years.

The generally accepted belief that the old _Henry VI._, _The
Contention_, and _The True Tragedie_ were--like _The Troublesome Raigne
of King John_, _The Seven Deadly Sins_, and other plays owned by
companies with which Burbage was connected--originally Queen's plays, is
responsible for the otherwise unsupported assumption that Burbage was a
member and the manager of the Queen's company for several years.

As the disruption of the old Queen's company and its reorganisation into
a smaller company under the two Duttons, as well as the inception of
Henslowe's connection with Strange's men, evidently took place some time
between the Christmas season of 1590-91, when the Queen's company
performed four times at Court and the Admiral-Strange company only once,
and the Christmas season of 1591-92, when Strange's company performed
six times and the Queen's only once, and then for the last time on
record, it is evident that Pembroke's company was formed also in this
year. It is not unlikely then that Shakespeare's recast of _The
Troublesome Raigne of King John_ into _King John_ was made at the
instigation of the Earl of Pembroke himself at the time of Perrot's
arrest in 1591. As Pembroke's father was a lifelong friend of Perrot's
it is extremely probable that he also would be his partisan and
well-wisher.

In every poem or play written by Shakespeare from the time he made the
acquaintance of the Earl of Southampton at the end of 1591, and even for
some time after the accession of James I. in 1603, I find some
reflection of his interest in that nobleman or in the fortunes of the
Essex party with which he was affiliated. I find no reflection of this
interest in _King John_ nor in _The Comedy of Errors_, except in a few
passages which palpably pertain to a period of revision in the former
play. From this and other subjective evidence already advanced I date
the composition of both of these plays in 1591, and in doing so conform
to the chronological conclusions reached by authoritative text critics
whose judgments have been formed altogether upon textual and stylistic
grounds.

While nearly all writers upon the Elizabethan drama recognise the
topical, political, or controversial nature of much of the dramatic
representation of that age, it is usual to deny for Shakespeare's plays
any such topical significance. This attitude of the critics is due
largely to neglect or ignorance of contemporary history, and also to the
lack of a proper understanding of the chronological order in which the
plays were produced, and their consequent inability to synchronise the
characters or action of the plays, with circumstances of Shakespeare's
life, or with matters of contemporary interest, as well as to the
masterly objective skill by which he disguised his intentions, in order
to protect himself and his company from the stringent statutes then in
force, prohibiting the presentation of matters concerning Church or
State upon the stage.

CHAPTER VII

THE INCEPTION OF THE FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN SHAKESPEARE AND THE EARL OF
SOUTHAMPTON

1591-1594

A few months after the publication of Greene's _A Groatsworth of Wit_,
Henry Chettle issued a book entitled _Kinde Heartes Dreame_, to which he
prefaced an apology for publishing Greene's attack upon Shakespeare. He
writes: "I am as sorry as if the original fault had been my fault,
because myselfe have seene his demeanour no lesse civill than he exelent
in the qualitie he professes, besides divers of worship have reported
his uprightnes of dealing, which argues his honesty, and his facetious
grace in writing that approoves his art." When critically examined,
these references to Shakespeare take on a somewhat greater biographical
value than has usually been claimed for them. Agreeing with the
assumption that Shakespeare left Stratford between 1586 and 1587,--that
is, at between the ages of twenty-two and twenty-three years,--we are
informed by these allusions, that by the time he had reached his
twenty-eighth year he had attained such social recognition as to have
enlisted in his behalf the active sympathies of "divers of
worship,"--that is, men of assured social prestige and distinction,--whose
protest against Greene's attack evidently induced Chettle's amends.
Chettle's book was published in December 1592; just four months later,
in April 1593, _Venus and Adonis_ was licensed for publication, and
shortly afterwards was issued with the well-known dedication to Henry
Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton. It is reasonable to assume that
this poem and its dedication had been submitted in MS. to Southampton
and held some time previous to the date of the application for licence
to publish, and that his favour was well assured before the poem was
finally let go to press. The few months intervening between Greene's
attack and Chettle's apology, and the application for licence
to publish, may then easily be bridged by the reading in MS. form of
_Venus and Adonis_ by Southampton's friends. It is likely also that
Greene's public attack upon Shakespeare led this generous and
high-spirited nobleman to acquiesce in the use of his name as sponsor
for the publication. The nearness of these dates and incidents gives us
good grounds for believing that the Earl of Southampton was included in
the number referred to by Chettle as "divers of worship." In using the
expression "the qualitie he professes," Chettle plainly referred to
Shakespeare's profession as an actor-manager, and of his excellence in
this respect bears his own record: "myselfe," he writes, "_have seene_
his demeanour no lesse civill than he exelent in the qualitie he
professes." Of Shakespeare's literary merits, however, he expresses no
personal knowledge, but tells us that "divers of worship have reported
his uprightnes of dealing, which argues his honesty, and his facetious
grace in writing that approoves his art." Had Chettle referred to any of
Shakespeare's known dramatic work he could have passed his own judgment,
as in fact he does upon his civility as manager and his excellence as
an actor. Having seen Shakespeare act he would also, no doubt, have
heard his lines declaimed had our poet at that period produced upon the
_public boards_ any of his original dramas. The term "facetious grace"
might well be applied to the manner and matter of Shakespeare's lighter
comedies had any of them been _publicly acted_, but would be somewhat
inapt if applied to the rather stilted staginess of his early historical
work. Much argument has been advanced in various attempts to prove that
Shakespeare produced _Love's Labour's Lost_, _The Two Gentlemen of
Verona_, _Romeo and Juliet_, and _Midsummer Nights Dream_ previous to
the year 1591-92, but no particle of evidence, either external or
internal, has yet been advanced in support of these assumptions; much,
however, has been advanced against them. If we may accept Shakespeare's
own subscribed statement as evidence, and that evidence is truthful,
_Venus and Adonis_ was his first acknowledged original literary effort.
In the dedication to Southampton he distinctly names it "the first heir
of my invention." It is probable, then, that the "facetious grace" in
writing, of which "divers of worship" had reported, referred to this
poem, which had been held then for several months (as were his Sonnets
for years) in MS. "among his private friends."

At the time that Chettle published his _Kinde Heartes Dreame_
Shakespeare had already produced _The Comedy of Errors_ and _King John_,
and had evidently had a hand with Marlowe in the revision of _The True
Tragedie of the Duke of York_. It is unlikely, however, that Chettle had
witnessed a performance of _The Comedy of Errors_, which was produced
primarily for private presentation. _The True Tragedie of the Duke of
York_ and _The Troublesome Raigne of King John_ were both old plays by
other hands, and it was for publishing Greene's attack upon Shakespeare
for his share in the revision of the former, that Chettle now
apologised. He would therefore not regard his revision of _The
Troublesome Raigne_, if he knew of it, as original work. It is evident,
then, Shakespeare's "facetious grace in writing," of which Chettle had
heard, referred either to _Venus and Adonis_, or _The Comedy of Errors_,
or both, neither of which were known to the public at this time.

Friendship may perhaps be too strong a term to apply to the relations
that subsisted at this date between Southampton and Shakespeare, but we
have good proof in Chettle's references to him late in 1592, in the
dedication of _Venus and Adonis_ in 1593, and of _Lucrece_ in 1594, as
well as the first _book_ of Sonnets,--which I shall later show belongs
to the earlier period of their connection,--that the acquaintance
between these two men, at whatever period it may have commenced, was at
least in being towards the end of the year 1592. A brief outline and
examination of the recorded incidents of Southampton's life in these
early years may throw some new light upon the earliest stage of this
acquaintance, especially when those incidents and conditions are
considered _correlatively with the spirit and intention of the poems
which Shakespeare wrote for him, and dedicated to him a little later_.

Thomas Wriothesley, second Earl of Southampton, and father of
Shakespeare's patron, died on 4th October 1581. Henry, his only
surviving son, thus became Earl of Southampton before he had attained
his eighth birthday, and consequently became, and remained until his
majority, a ward of the Crown. The Court of Chancery was at that period
a much simpler institution than it is to-day, and Lord Burghley seems
personally to have exercised the chief functions of that Court in its
relation to wards in Chancery, and also to have monopolised its
privileges. We may infer that this was a position by no means
distasteful to that prudent minister's provident and nepotic spirit.
Burghley was essentially of that type of statesmen who are better
contented with actual power, and its accruing profits, than the
appearance of power and the glory of its trappings. Leicester, Raleigh,
and Essex might, in turn, pose their day as they willed upon the
political stage so long as they confined themselves to subordinate or
ornamental capacities; but whenever they attempted seriously to encroach
upon the reins of power, he set himself to circumvent them with a
patience and finesse that invariably wrought their undoing.

In this system of politics he had an apt pupil in his son, Sir Robert
Cecil, who, viewed through the ages, while presenting a less solid
figure than his father, displays a much more refined and Machiavellian
craft.

The attention and care which Burghley bestowed from the beginning upon
his young ward's affairs bespeak an interest within an interest when his
prudent and calculating nature is borne in mind and the later incidents
of his guardianship are considered.

Towards the end of 1585, at the age of twelve, Southampton became a
student of St. John's College, Cambridge, from whence he graduated as
M.A. about four years later, _i.e._ in June 1589. After leaving
Cambridge in 1589, _he lived for over a year with his mother at Cowdray
House in Sussex_. Early in this year, or possibly while Southampton was
still at Cambridge, Burghley had opened negotiations with the Countess
of Southampton with the object of uniting the interests and fortunes of
her son with his own house, by consummating a marriage between this
wealthy and promising young peer and his own granddaughter, Lady
Elizabeth Vere, daughter of the Earl of Oxford. Burghley's extreme
interest in the match is fully attested by a few letters that are still
extant. In the Calendar State Papers we have an apologetic letter from
Sir Thomas Stanhope (whose wife and daughter had recently visited Lady
Southampton at Cowdray) to Lord Burghley, dated 15th July 1590, assuring
him that he had never sought to procure the young Earl of Southampton in
marriage for his daughter, as he knew Burghley intended marriage between
him and the Lady Vere. That an actual engagement of marriage had already
been entered into, we have proof in another letter dated 19th September
1590, from Anthony Brown, Viscount Montague (Southampton's maternal
grandfather), to Lord Burghley. Regarding this engagement he writes,
that Southampton "is not averse from it," and repeats further, that his
daughter, Lady Southampton, is not aware of any alteration in her son's
mind. The tone of this latter epistle does not seem to evince any great
enthusiasm for the match upon the part of either Southampton or his
mother; its rather diffident spirit was not lost upon Burghley, who,
within a few days of its receipt, commanded the attendance of his young
ward at Court. Upon 14th October 1590--that is, less than a month after
Viscount Montague's letter to Burghley--we have a letter from Lady
Southampton announcing her son's departure for London, and commending
him to Burghley, but making no mention of the proposed marriage. _From
the fact that she thanks Burghley for the "long time" he "had intrusted"
her son with her, we may infer that his present departure for London
was occasioned by Burghley's order, and also that the "long time"_
indicated by Lady Southampton's letter, was the interval between
Southampton's leaving Cambridge in June 1589 and his present departure
for London in October 1590. We are also assured by this data that
Southampton had not travelled upon the Continent previous to his coming
to Court. Between the time of his coming to London in October 1590 and
August 1591, I find no dates in contemporary records referring to
Southampton; but it appears evident that these nine months were spent at
Court.

Some misgivings regarding the young Earl's desire for the match with his
granddaughter seem to have arisen in Burghley's mind in March 1592, _at
which time Southampton was with the English forces in France_. From this
we may judge that Southampton's departure for the wars was undertaken at
his own initiative and not at Burghley's suggestion. It appears likely
that a lack of marital ardour inspired his martial ardour at this time,
and that Burghley was conscious of his disinclination to the proposed
marriage. In a letter dated 6th March 1592 (new style) Roger Manners
writing to Burghley tells him he has been at North Hall with the
Countess of Warwick, whom he reports as "very well inclined to the match
between the Earl of Bedford and the Lady Vere." "She is desirous to
know," he adds, "if your Lordship approves of it." While this letter
shows that Burghley at this date had doubts regarding Southampton's
fulfilment of his engagement, other inferences lead me to judge that _it
was not finally disrupted until the spring of 1594_.

We have record that Southampton's name was entered as a student of
Gray's Inn in July 1590,--that is, three months before his arrival in
London,--and may therefore assume that some of his subsequent time in
London was occupied in more or less perfunctory legal studies.

As continental travel and an acquaintance with foreign tongues--at least
Italian and French--had then come to be regarded as a part of a
nobleman's education, Burghley, soon after Southampton's coming to
Court, provided him with a tutor of languages in the person of John
Florio, who thereafter continued in his pay and patronage as late as, if
not later than, 1598. Even after this date Southampton continued to
befriend Florio for many years.

As Florio continued in Southampton's service during the entire Sonnet
period and played an important rôle in what shall hereafter be developed
as _The Story of the Sonnets_, and as he shall also be shown to have
provided Shakespeare with a model for several important characters in
_The Plays of the Sonnet Period_, a brief consideration of his heredity
and personal characteristics may help us to realise the manner in which
Shakespeare held "the mirror up to nature" in his dramatic
characterisations.

John Florio was born before 1553 and was the son of Michael Angelo
Florio, a Florentine Protestant, who left Italy in the reign of Henry
VIII. to escape the persecution in the Valteline. Florio's father was
pastor to a congregation of his religious compatriots in London for
several years. He was befriended by Archbishop Cranmer, and was
patronised by Sir William Cecil during the reign of Edward VI.; but lost
his church and the patronage of Cecil on account of charges of gross
immorality that were made against him. We are informed by Anthony Wood
that the elder Florio left England upon the accession of Mary, and moved
to the Continent, probably to France, where John Florio received his
early education. The earliest knowledge we have of John Florio in
England is that he lived at Oxford for several years in his youth, and
that, in or about 1576, he became tutor in Italian to a Mr. Barnes, son
of the Bishop of Durham. In 1581, according to Anthony Wood, Florio
matriculated at Magdalen and was teacher and instructor to certain
scholars at the University. In 1578 he was still living at Oxford when
he dedicated his _First Fruites_ to the Earl of Leicester, his
dedication being dated "From my lodgings in Worcester Place." In 1580 he
dedicated a translation from the Italian of Ramusio to Edward Bray,
sheriff of Oxford, and two years later dedicated to Sir Edmund Dyer a
MS. collection of Italian proverbs, which is also dated from Oxford on
the 12th of November 1582.

Nothing definite is known concerning Florio between 1582 and 1591; in
the latter year he published his _Second Fruites_, dedicating it to a
recent patron, Mr. Nicholas Saunder of Ewell. Between about 1590 and
1591, and the end of 1598 and possibly later, he continued in the pay
and patronage of the Earl of Southampton, dedicating his _Worlde of
Wordes_ in the latter year "To the Right Honourable Patrons of Virtue,
Patterns of Honour, Roger, Earl of Rutland; Henry, Earl of Southampton;
and Lucy, Countess of Bedford." A new and enlarged edition of this book
containing his portrait was published in 1611. In the medallion
surrounding this picture he gives his age as fifty-eight, which would
date his birth in 1553, the year of Queen Mary's accession. It is
probable that Florio understated his age, as he is said to have received
his early education in France and to have returned to England with his
father upon the accession of Elizabeth in 1558. Anthony Wood gives the
date of his birth as 1545, and though I cannot find his authority am
inclined to believe the earlier date to be correct. Florio was vain
enough to prevaricate on a matter of this nature. In 1603 he published
his chief work, a translation of _The Essaies of Montaigne_. Florio was
attached to the Court of James I. as French and Italian tutor to Prince
Henry and the Queen, and also held the appointment of Gentleman of the
Privy Chamber.

Florio was married on 9th September 1617 to a Rose Spicer, of whom
nothing earlier than the marriage record is known. From the facts that
his daughter Aurelia was already married at the time of his death in
1625, and that in his will he leaves her "the wedding ring wherewith I
married her mother," it is evident that Rose Spicer was his second wife.

Following a suggestion made by the Rev. J.H. Halpin, it is supposed that
his first wife was a Rose Daniel, a sister of Samuel Daniel, the poet,
who was Florio's classfellow at Oxford. In the address to dedicatory
verses by Daniel, prefixed to the 1611 edition of Florio's _Worlde of
Wordes_ he calls Florio "My dear friend and brother, Mr. John Florio,
one of the gentlemen of Her Majesties Royal Privy Chamber." From this it
has been supposed that Florio's first wife was Daniel's sister, and Mr.
Halpin inferred that she was named Rose from his assumption that Spenser
refers to her as Rosalinde, and to Florio as Menalcas in _The Shepheards
Calendar_ in 1579. Mr. Grosart, who carefully investigated the matter,
states that Daniel--who in 1611 was also a Gentleman of the Privy
Chamber--had only two sisters, neither of them being named Rose. It is
likely, then, that Daniel referred to his official connection with
Florio by the term "brother," as in 1603, in a similar address to
dedicatory verses prefixed to _Montaigne's Essaies_ he refers to him
only as "My Friend." There is no record of Florio's first marriage.

It is very unlikely, however, that two women named Rose should have come
so intimately into Florio's life, and probable, when all the evidence is
considered, that Rose Spicer, the "dear wife Rose" mentioned in his
will, was the "Rosalinde" of his youth, whom, it appears, he had
seduced, and with whom he had evidently lived in concubinage in the
intervening years; making tardy amends by marriage in 1617, only eight
years before his death. His marriage to Rose Spicer was evidently
brought about by the admonitions of his friend Theophilus Field, Bishop
of Llandaff, under whose influence Florio became religious in his
declining years.

In Florio's will, in which he bequeaths nearly all of his small property
to his "beloved wife Rose," he regrets that he "cannot give or leave her
more in requital of her tender love, loving care, painful diligence, and
_continual labour to me in all my fortunes and many sicknesses_, than
whom never had husband a more loving wife, painful nurse, and
comfortable consort." The words I have italicised indicate conjugal
relations covering a much longer period than the eight years between his
formal marriage in 1617 and his death in 1625. The term "_all my
fortunes_" certainly implies a connection between them antedating
Florio's sixty-fourth year.

We may infer that the Bishop of Llandaff and Florio's pastor, Dr. Cluet,
whom he appointed overseers and executors of his will, held Florio in
light esteem, as "for certain reasons" they renounced its execution. The
Earl of Pembroke, to whom he bequeathed his books, apparently neglected
to avail himself of the legacy, and probably for the same reasons. An
examination of Florio's characteristic will--in the Appendix--will
suggest the nature of these reasons.

Mr. Halpin's inference that Florio as Menalcas had already married
"Rosalinde" in 1596, when the last books of _The Faerie Queen_ were
published, is deduced from the idea that the originals for "Mirabella"
and the "Carle and fool" of the _The Faerie Queen_ are identical with
those for "Rosalinde" and "Menalcas" of _The Shepheards Calendar_. While
it is probable that Spenser had the same originals in mind in both
cases, an analysis of his verses in _The Faerie Queen_ shows that the
"Carle and fool," who accompany Mirabella, represent two persons, _i.e._
"Disdaine" and "Scorne." In the following verses Mirabella speaks:

     "In prime of youthly yeares, when first the flowre
     Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosme delight,
     And Nature me endu'd with plenteous dowre
     Of all her gifts, that pleased each living sight,
     I was belov'd of many a gentle Knight,
     And sude and sought with all the service dew:
     Full many a one for me deepe groand and sight,
     And to the dore of death for sorrow drew,
     Complayning _out on me_ that would not on them rew.

     But let them love that list, or live or die,
     Me list not die for any lovers doole;
     Ne list me leave my loved libertie
     To pitty him that list to play the foole;
     To love myselfe I learned had in schoole.
     Thus I triumphed long in lovers paine.
     And sitting carelesse on the scorners stoole,
     Did laugh at those that did lament and plaine;
     But all is now repayd with interest againe.

     For loe! the winged God that woundeth harts
     Causde me be called to accompt therefore;
     And for revengement of those wrongfull smarts,
     Which I to others did inflict afore,
     Addeem'd me to endure this penaunce sore;
     _That in this wise, and this unmeete array,
     With these two lewd companions, and no more,
     Disdaine and Scorne, I through the world should stray._"

Assuming "Mirabella" and "Rosalinde" to indicate the same woman, _i.e._
Rose Spicer, whom Florio married in 1617, but with whom he had been
living in concubinage for about eighteen years when the last three books
of _The Faerie Queen_ were published, Mirabella's penance of being
forced to "stray through the world" accompanied by "Disdaine" and
"Scorne," would match her plight as Florio's mistress, but would not
apply to her as his wife.

The Rosalinde indicated by Spenser was undoubtedly a north of England
girl, while Samuel Daniel belonged to a Somerset family. While it is
certain that Florio was married before 1617, it is evident he did not
marry a Miss Daniel, and that Menalcas had not married Rosalinde in
1596; yet it is practically certain that Spenser refers to Florio as
Menalcas, and that Shakespeare recognised that fact in 1592 and
pilloried Florio to the initiated of his day as Parolles in _Love's
Labour's Won_ in this connection. Florio habitually signed himself
"Resolute John Florio" to acquaintances, obligations, dedications, etc.
When he commenced this practice I cannot learn, but the use of the word
was known to Spenser in 1579, as the Greek word Menalcas means Resolute.
It is not difficult to fathom Spenser's meaning in regard to the
relations between Menalcas and Rosalinde, and it is clear that he had a
poor opinion of the moral character of the former, and plainly charges
him with seduction.

     "And thou, Menalcas, that by treacheree
     Didst underfong my lasse to waxe so light,
     Shouldest well be known for such thy villanee.
     But since I am not as I wish I were,
     Ye gentle Shepheards, which your flocks do feede,
     Whether on hylls, or dales, or other where,
     Beare witnesse all of thys so wicked deede:
     And tell the lasse, whose flowre is woxe a weede,
     And faultlesse fayth is turned to faithlesse fere,
     That she the truest shepheards hart made bleede,
     That lyves on earth, and loved her most dere."

The very unusual word "underfong" which Spenser uses in these verses,
and the gloss which he appends to the verses of _The Shepheards
Calendar_ for June, were not lost upon Shakespeare. Spenser, in the
glossary, writes: "Menalcas, the name of a shephearde in Virgile; but
here is meant a person unknowne and secrete, against whome he often
bitterly invayeth. _Underfonge_, undermyne, and deceive by false
suggestion." The immoral flippancy of the remarkable dialogue between
the disreputable Parolles and the otherwise sweet and maidenly Helena,
in Act I. Scene i. of _All's Well that Ends Well_, has often been
noticed by critics as a peculiar lapse in dramatic congruity on the part
of Shakespeare. This is evidently one of several such instances in his
plays where he sacrificed his objective dramatic art to a subjective
contingency, though by doing so undoubtedly adding a greater interest to
contemporary presentations not only by the palpable reflection of
Spenser's point at Florio in the play on the word "undermine" in a
similar connection, but also as reflecting the wide latitude his
Italianate breeding and manners and his Mediterranean unmorality allowed
him and his type to take in conversing with English gentlewomen at that
period.

The Rev. J.H. Halpin was not far from the truth in saying that "Florio
was beset with tempers and oddities which exposed him more perhaps than
any man of his time to the ridicule of his contemporaries"; and that "he
was in his literary career, jealous, vain, irritable, pedantic,
bombastical, petulant, and quarrelsome, ever on the watch for an
affront, always in the attitude of a fretful porcupine."

Florio became connected as tutor of languages with the Earl of
Southampton some time before the end of April 1591, when he issued his
_Second Fruites_ and dedicated it to his recent patron, Nicholas Saunder
of Ewell. In this publication there is a passage which not only exhibits
the man's unblushing effrontery, but also gives us a passing glimpse of
his early relations with his noble patron, the spirit of which
Shakespeare reflects in Falstaff's impudent familiarity with Prince Hal.
This passage serves also to show that at the time it was written, the
last of April 1591, Florio had entered the pay and patronage of the Earl
of Southampton. He introduces two characters as follows, and, with true
Falstaffian assurance, gives them his own and the Earl of Southampton's
Christian names, Henry and John. Falstaff invariably addresses the
Prince as Hal.

   HENRY. Let us make a match at tennis.

   JOHN. Agreed, this fine morning calls for it.

   HENRY. And after, we will go to dinner, and after dinner we will see
   a play.

   JOHN. The plaies they play in England are neither right comedies nor
   right tragedies.

   HENRY. But they do nothing but play every day.

   JOHN. Yea: but they are neither right comedies nor right tragedies.

   HENRY. How would you name them then?

   JOHN. Representations of history, without any decorum.

It shall later be shown that Chapman also noticed Florio's presumption
in this instance, and that he recognised the fact, or else assumed as a
fact, that Florio's stricture on English historical drama was directed
against Shakespeare.

We may judge from the conversation between Henry and John that
Southampton, in attaining a colloquial knowledge of French and Italian,
entered into intimate relations with Florio, and from the interest that
he displayed in dramatic affairs in later years, that during his first
year in London he would be likely frequently to witness the performance
of plays in the public theatres. It is probable, then, that he would
have seen performances by both Pembroke's and Strange's companies in
this year.

It is evident that an acquaintance between the Earl of Southampton and
Shakespeare was not formed previous to Southampton's coming to Court in
November 1590. A first acquaintance undoubtedly had its inception
between that date and Southampton's departure for France early in 1592.
I shall now develop evidence for my belief that their first acquaintance
was made upon the occasion of the Queen's progress to Cowdray and
Tichfield House in August and September 1591.

I find no record in the State Papers concerning Southampton between the
date of his departure from home for the Court in October 1590, and 2nd
March 1592 (new style), when he wrote from Dieppe to the Earl of Essex.
We may, however, infer that he was still in England on 15th August 1591,
the date of the arrival of the Queen and Court at Cowdray House. _It is
evident also that the progress would not have proceeded a week later to
his own county seat, Tichfield House, unless he was present._ We have
evidence in the State Papers that the itineraries of the Queen's
progresses were usually planned by Burghley; the present progress to
Cowdray and Tichfield was undoubtedly arranged _in furtherance of his
matrimonial plans for his granddaughter and Southampton_. The records of
this progress give us details concerning the entertainments for the
Queen, which were given at some of the other noblemen's houses she
visited; the verses, masques, and plays being still preserved in a few
instances, even where she tarried for only a few days. The Court
remained at Cowdray House for a full week. No verses nor plays recited
or performed upon this occasion, nor upon the occasion of her visit, a
week later, to the Earl of Southampton's house at Tichfield, have been
preserved in the records. It is very probable, however, in the light of
the facts to follow, _that our poet and his fellow-players attended the
Earl of Southampton, both at Cowdray House and at Tichfield, during this
progress_. In the description of the Queen's entertainment during her
stay at Cowdray, I find a most suggestive resemblance to much of the
action and plot of _Love's Labours Lost_. The Queen and Court arrived at
Cowdray House at eight o'clock on Saturday evening, 15th August. That
night, the records tell us, "her Majesty took her rest and so in like
manner the next, which was Sunday, being most royally feasted, the
proportion of breakfast being 3 oxen and 140 geese." "The next day," we
are informed, "she rode in the park where a delicate bower" was prepared
and "a nymph with a sweet song delivered her a crossbow to shoot at the
deer of which she killed three or four and the Countess of Kildare one."
In _Love's Labour's Lost_ the Princess and her ladies shoot at deer from
a coppice.

   PRINCESS. Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
                      That we must stand and play the murderer in?

   FOR.      Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
                      A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.

In Act IV. Scene ii., Holofernes makes an "extemporal epitaph on the
death of the deer," which is reminiscent of the "sweet song" delivered
to the Queen by "the nymph."

   HOL. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death
   of the deer? And, to humour the ignorant, call I the deer the
   princess killed a pricket.

   I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.

   The preyful princess pierced and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;
     Some say a sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.
   The dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket;
     Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting.
   If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores one sorel.
   Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.

_In a former publication I have shown that an antagonism had developed
between Shakespeare and Chapman as early as the year 1594, and in a more
recent one have shown Matthew Roydon's complicacy with Chapman in his
hostility to Shakespeare, and also Shakespeare's cognizance of it._ I
have displayed Shakespeare's answers to the attacks of these scholars in
his caricature of Chapman as Holofernes, and of the curate Roydon as the
curate Nathaniel. Chapman's attack upon Shakespeare in 1593 in the early
_Histriomastix_ and his reflection of the Earl of Southampton as
Mavortius give evidence that his hostility owed its birth to
Shakespeare's success in winning the patronage and friendship of
Southampton; unless Chapman and Roydon had already solicited this
nobleman's patronage, or had at least come into contact with him in some
manner, and considered themselves displaced by Shakespeare, both the
virulence of their opposition to our poet, and the manner and matter of
Chapman's slurs against him in _Histriomastix_, and in the dedications
of his poems to Matthew Roydon in 1594-95, are unaccountable.

It is likely that Matthew Roydon was one of the theological poets--who
wrote anonymously for the stage--mentioned by Robert Greene in the
introduction to _The Farewell to Folly_, which was published in 1591.
It is probable also that Roydon is referred to as a writer for the stage
in Greene's _Groatsworth of Wit_, where, after indicating Marlowe,
Peele, and Nashe, he says:

   "In this I might insert two more who have both writ against (for)
   these buckram gentlemen."

Now seeing that both Roydon and Chapman are satirised by Shakespeare in
_Love's Labours Lost_, it occurs to me that the "preyful Princess"
verses quoted above (which display parody in every line) are intended by
Shakespeare to caricature the known work of the author of the sweet song
delivered to the Queen by the nymph, and consequently that this song was
from the pen of one of this learned couple. As I have already noticed,
in the records of the Queen's stay at the other noblemen's houses that
she visited on this progress, many verses and songs appear which were
written specially for these occasions, while no songs, nor verses, have
been preserved from the Cowdray or Tichfield festivities, occasions when
they would be likely to have been used, considering Southampton's
interest in literary matters and the court paid to him by the writers of
the day. Among the poems which I have collected that I attribute to
Roydon, I have elsewhere noticed one that Shakespeare makes fun of at a
later time in _Midsummer Night's Dream_--that is, _The Shepherd's
Slumber_. This poem deals with the exact season of the year when the
Queen was at Cowdray--"peascod time"--and also with the killing of deer,

     "when hound to horn gives ear till buck be killed";

and in one verse describes just such methods of killing deer as is
suggested, both in _Love's Labours Lost_ and in _Nichol's Progresses_,
which latter records the entertainment for the Queen at Cowdray House.

     "And like the deer, I make them fall!
     That runneth o'er the lawn.
     One drops down here! another there!
     In bushes as they groan;
     I bend a scornful, careless ear,
     To hear them make their moan."

May not this be the identical "sweet song" delivered by the nymph to the
Queen, and the occasion of the progress to Cowdray, in 1591, indicate
the entry of Roydon and Chapman into the rivalry between Shakespeare and
the scholars inaugurated two years earlier by Greene and Nashe?

This poem which I attribute to Roydon has all the manner of an
occasional production and is about as senseless as most of his other
"absolute comicke inventions." The masque-like allegory it exhibits,
introducing "Delight," "Wit," "Good Sport," "Honest Meaning" as persons,
was much affected by the Queen and Court in their entertainments. At the
marriage of Lord Herbert, son of the Earl of Worcester, in 1599, a
masque was given for the Queen in which we are told eight ladies of the
Court performed. One of these ladies "wooed her to dawnce, her Majesty
asked what she was, affection she said, affection, said the Queen,
affection is false, yet her Majesty rose and dawnced." During the stay
at Cowdray similar make-believe and allegory were evidently used in the
entertainments given for the Queen. Roydon's poem may, like _Love's
Labours Lost_, be a reflection of such courtly nonsense.

During the first three days of the Queen's stay at Cowdray she was
feasted and entertained (the records inform us) by Lady Montague, but on
the fourth day "she dined at the Priory," where Lord Montague kept
bachelor's hall, and whither he had retired to receive and entertain
the Queen without the assistance of Lady Montague. This reception and
entertainment of the Queen by Lord Montague was, no doubt, accompanied
by fantastic allegory--Lord Montague and his friends playing the parts
of hermits, or philosophers in retreat, as in the case of the King of
Navarre and his friends in _Love's Labour's Lost_. The paucity of plot
in this play has been frequently noticed, and no known basis for its
general action and plot has ever been discovered or proposed.

At this time (1591) Shakespeare had been in London only from four to
five years, and, judging from the prominence in his profession which he
shortly afterwards attained, we may be assured that these were years of
patient drudgery in his calling. Neither in his Stratford years, nor
during these inceptive theatrical years, would he be likely to have had
much, if any, previous experience with the social life of the nobility;
yet here, in what is recognised by practically all critical students as
his earliest comedy, the original composition of which is dated by the
best text critics in, or about, 1591, he displays an intimate
acquaintance with their sports and customs which in spirit and detail
most significantly coincide with the actual records of the Queen's
progress, late in 1591, to Cowdray House, the home of the mother of the
nobleman whose fortunes, from this time forward for a period of from ten
to fifteen years, may be shown to have influenced practically every poem
and play he produced.

As the incidents of the Queen's stay at Cowdray are reflected in the
plot and action of _Loves Labour's Lost_, so, in _All's Well that Ends
Well_, or, at least, in those portions of that play recognised by the
best critics as the remains of the older play of _Love's Labour's Won_,
the incidents and atmosphere of the Queen's stay at Tichfield House are
also suggested. The gentle and dignified Countess of Rousillon suggests
the widowed Countess of Southampton; the wise and courtly Lafeu gives us
a sketch of Sir Thomas Heneage, the Vice-Chamberlain of the Court, who
married Lady Southampton about three years later. Bertram's
insensibility to Helena's love, and indifference to her charms, as well
as his departure for the French Court, coincide with the actual facts in
the case of Southampton, who at this time was apathetic to the match
planned by his friends, and who also left home for France shortly after
the Queen's visit to Cowdray. Parolles is, I am convinced, a caricature
from life, and in his original characterisation in _Love's Labour's Won_
was probably a replica of the original Armado of the earliest form of
_Love's Labours Lost_. Both of these characters I believe I can
demonstrate to be early sketches, or caricatures, of John Florio, the
same individual who is caricatured in _Henry IV._ and the _Merry Wives
of Windsor_ as Sir John Falstaff. The characterisation of Parolles as we
have it in _All's Well that Ends Well_ is probably much more accentuated
than the Parolles of the earlier form of the play, in which he would
most likely have been presented as a fantastical fop, somewhat of the
order of Armado. By the time the earlier play of 1591-92 was rewritten
into its present form, in 1598, the original of the character of
Parolles had in Shakespeare's opinion developed also into a "misleader
of youth"; in fact, into another Falstaff, minus the adipose tissue.

As both _Loves Labour's Lost_ and _Love's Labour's Won_ (_All's Well
that Ends Well_ in its early form) reflect persons and incidents of the
Cowdray-Tichfield progress, it is evident that both plays were composed
after the event. It is of interest then to consider which, if any, of
Shakespeare's plays were likely to have been presented upon that
occasion.

As this narrative and argument develop, a date of composition later than
the date of the Cowdray progress--when Shakespeare first formed the
acquaintance of the Earl of Southampton--and based upon subjective
evidence regarding the poet's relations with this nobleman, yet
coinciding with the chronological conclusions of the best text critics,
shall be demonstrated for all of Shakespeare's early plays with the
exception of _King John_ and _The Comedy of Errors_. In all the early
plays except these two I find palpable time reflections of Shakespeare's
interest in the Earl of Southampton or his affairs. I therefore date the
original composition of both of these early plays previous to the
Cowdray progress, in September 1591. I have already advanced my evidence
for the original composition of Shakespeare's _King John_ early in 1591.
I cannot so palpably demonstrate the composition of _The Comedy of
Errors_ in this year, but, following the lead of the great majority of
the text critics who date its composition in this year, and finding no
internal reflection of Southampton or his affairs, I infer that it was
written after the composition of _King John_, before Shakespeare had
made Southampton's acquaintance and intentionally for presentation
before the Queen and Court at Cowdray or Tichfield. The fact that _The
Comedy of Errors_ is the shortest of all Shakespeare's plays, the
farce-like nature of the play and its recorded presentation in 1594
before the members of Gray's Inn, with which Southampton was connected,
marks it as one of the plays originally composed for private rather than
for public presentation. It is evident that it never proved sufficiently
popular upon the public boards to warrant its enlargement to the size of
the average publicly presented play.

While I cannot learn the actual date at which Southampton left England,
we have proof in a letter written by him to the Earl of Essex, that he
was in France upon 2nd March 1592.

When we take into consideration the fact that this visit of the Queen's
to Cowdray and Tichfield was arranged by Burghley in furtherance of his
plans to marry his granddaughter to the Earl of Southampton, and that
Shakespeare's earlier sonnets (which I shall argue were written with the
intention of forwarding this match) are of a period very slightly later
than this, it is evident that the incidents of the Queen's stay at
Cowdray and Tichfield would become known to Shakespeare by report, even
though he was not himself present upon those occasions. The plot of the
first four Acts of _Love's Labour's Lost_, such as it is, bears such a
strong resemblance to the recorded incidents of that visit as to suggest
reminiscence much more than hearsay.

While Burghley in this affair was, no doubt, primarily seeking a
suitable alliance for his granddaughter, the rather hurried and
peremptory manner of Southampton's invitation to Court may partially be
accounted for by other motives, when the conditions of the Court and its
intrigues at that immediate period are considered.

The long struggle for political supremacy between Burghley and
Elizabeth's first, and most enduring favourite, Robert Dudley, Earl of
Leicester, came to an end in 1588 through the death of Leicester in that
year. While Elizabeth's faith in Burghley's political wisdom was never
at any time seriously shaken by the counsels of her more polished and
courtly confidant, Leicester, there was a period in her long flirtation
with the latter nobleman when the great fascination, which he
undoubtedly exercised over her, seemed likely to lead her into a course
which would completely alter, not only the political complexion of the
Court, but possibly also the actual destinies of the Crown. There was
never at any period of their career any love lost between Burghley and
Leicester; the latter, in the heyday of his favour, frequently expressed
himself in such plain terms regarding Burghley that he could have had
little doubt of the disastrous effect upon his own fortunes which might
ensue from the consummation of Leicester's matrimonial ambitions. He,
withal, wisely gauged the character and limits of Leicester's influence
with Elizabeth. While Leicester played upon the vanities and weakness of
the woman, Burghley appealed to the strong mentality and love of power
of the queen; yet though he unceasingly opposed Leicester's projects and
ambitions, wherein they threatened his own political supremacy, or the
good of the State, he seems to have recognised the impossibility of
undermining the Queen's personal regard for her great favourite, which
continued through all the years of his selfish, blundering, and criminal
career, down to the day of his death. While Leicester also in time
appears to have realised the impossibility of seriously impairing
Burghley's power, he, to the last, lost no opportunity of baffling that
minister's more cherished personal policies. In introducing his stepson,
Essex, to Court life and the notice of the Queen, in 1583, it is evident
that he had in mind designs other than the advancement of his young
kinsman. Essex, from the first, seems to have realised in whose shoes he
trod, and for the first ten years of his life at Court fully maintained
the Leicester tradition, and seemed likely in time even to refine upon
and enhance it. Had this young nobleman possessed ordinary equipoise of
temper it is questionable if Burghley would later have succeeded in
securing the succession of his own place and power to his son, Sir
Robert Cecil. Preposterous as it may seem, when judged from a modern
point of view, that the personal influence of this youth of twenty-three
with the now aged Queen should in any serious measure have menaced the
firm power and cautious policies of the experienced Burghley, we have
abundance of evidence that he and his son regarded Essex's growing
ascendancy as no light matter. From their long experience and intimate
association with Elizabeth, and knowing her vanities and weaknesses, as
well as her strength, they apprehended in her increasing favour for
Essex the beginning and rooting of a power which might in time
disintegrate their own solid foundations. The subtlety, dissimulation,
and unrelenting persistency with which Burghley and his son opposed
themselves to Essex's growing influence while yet posing as his
confidants and well-wishers, fully bespeak the measure of their fears.
While Burghley himself lacked the polished manners and graceful presence
of the courtier, which so distinguished Raleigh, Leicester, and Essex,
and owed his influence and power entirely to qualities of the mind and
his indefatigable application to business, he had come to recognise the
importance of these more ornamental endowments in securing and holding
the regard of Elizabeth. His son, Sir Robert Cecil, who was not only
puny and deformed, but also somewhat sickly all his days, made, and
could make, no pretensions to courtier-like graces, and must depend for
Court favour, to a yet greater degree than his father, upon his own
powers of mind and will. To combat Essex's social influence at Court,
these two more clerkly politicians, soon after Essex's appearance,
proceeded to supplement their own power by making an ally of the
accomplished Raleigh; to whom, previous to this, they had shown little
favour. They soon succeeded in fomenting a rivalry between these two
courtiers which, with some short periods of truce, continued until their
combined machinations finally brought Essex to the block. How Sir Robert
Cecil, having used Raleigh as a tool against Essex, in turn effected his
political ruin shall be shown in due course.

We shall now return to Southampton and to the period of his coming to
London and the Court, towards the end of October, in the year 1590. A
recent biographer of Shakespeare, writing of Southampton, sums up the
incidents of this period in the following generalisation: "It was
naturally to the Court that his friends sent him at an early age to
display his varied graces. He can hardly have been more than seventeen
when he was presented to his Sovereign. She showed him kindly notice,
and the Earl of Essex, her brilliant favourite, acknowledged his
fascination. Thenceforth Essex displayed in his welfare a brotherly
interest which proved in course of time a very doubtful blessing." This
not only hurries the narrative but also misconstrues the facts and
ignores the most interesting phases of the friendship between these
noblemen, as they influenced Southampton's subsequent connection with
Shakespeare. Essex may have acknowledged Southampton's fascination at
this date, though I find no evidence that he did do so, but for the
assertion that he "_thenceforth_" displayed in his welfare a brotherly
interest there is absolutely no basis. All reasonable inference, and
some actual evidence, lead me to quite divergent conclusions regarding
the relations that subsisted between these young noblemen at this early
date. Southampton's interests, it is true, became closely interwoven
with those of Essex at a somewhat later period when he had become
enamoured of Essex's cousin, Elizabeth Vernon, whom he eventually
married. The inception of this latter affair cannot, however, at the
earliest, be dated _previous to the late spring of 1594_. At whatever
date Southampton and Essex became intimate friends, there can be no
doubt _that such a conjunction was contrary to Burghley's intentions in
bringing Southampton to the Court in October 1590_. In making use of
Raleigh to counteract Essex's influence with the Queen, the Cecils were
well aware, as their subsequent treatment of Raleigh proves, that they
might in him augment a power which, if opposed to their own, would prove
even more dangerous than that of Essex; yet feeling the need of a friend
and ally in the more intimately social life of the Court, whose
interests would be identical with their own, they chose what appeared to
them an auspicious moment to introduce their graceful and accomplished
protégé and prospective kinsman, to the notice of the Queen, whose
predilection for handsome young courtiers seemed to increase with
advancing age.

Essex, although then but in his twenty-sixth year, had spent nearly six
years at Court. During this period he had been so spoiled and petted by
his doting Sovereign that he had already upon several occasions
temporarily turned her favour to resentment by his arrogance and
ill-humour. In his palmiest days even Leicester had never dared to take
the liberties with the Queen now, at times, indulged in by this
brilliant but wilful youth. In exciting Essex's hot and hasty temper the
watchful Cecils soon found their most effectual means of defence. Early
in the summer of 1590, Essex, piqued by the Queen's refusal of a favour,
committed what was, up till that time, his most wilful breach of Court
decorum and flagrant instance of opposition to the Queen's wishes. Upon
the 6th of April in that year the office of Secretary of State became
vacant by the death of Sir Francis Walsingham. Shortly afterward, Essex
endeavoured to secure the office for William Davison, who, previous to
1587, had acted in the capacity of assistant to Walsingham and was
therefore presumably well qualified for the vacant post. Upon the
execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, in 1587, Elizabeth, in disavowing her
responsibility for the act, had made a scapegoat of Davison, who, she
claimed, had secured her signature to the death-warrant by
misrepresentation, and had proceeded with its immediate execution
contrary to her commands. Though she deceived no one but herself by this
characteristic duplicity, she never retreated from the stand she had
taken, but, feeling conscious that she was doubted, to enforce belief in
her sincerity, maintained her resentment against Davison to the last.
Upon Elizabeth's refusal of the Secretaryship to his luckless protégé,
Essex, in dudgeon, absented himself from the Court, and within a few
weeks chose a yet more effectual means of exasperating the Queen by
privately espousing Sir Francis Walsingham's daughter, Lady Sidney,
widow of the renowned Sir Philip. When knowledge of this latest action
reached the Queen her anger was kindled to a degree that (to the Court
gossips) seemed to preclude Essex's forgiveness, or the possibility of
his reinstatement in favour. With the intention of increasing Essex's
ill-humour and still further estranging him from the Queen, Burghley now
proposed that all his letters and papers be seized. _He also chose this
period of estrangement to introduce his prospective grandson-in-law,
Southampton, to the Court._ The very eagerness of Essex's enemies,
however, appears to have cooled the Queen's anger, as we find that
within a month of Southampton's arrival at the Court--that is, on 26th
November--Essex is reported as "once more in good favour with the
Queen."

In the light of the foregoing facts and deductions, it does not seem
likely that Burghley would encourage a friendship between Essex and
Southampton. The assumption that he would (at least tacitly) seek rather
to provoke a rivalry is under the circumstances more reasonable. Though
I find no record in the State Papers of this immediate date that
hostility was aroused between these young courtiers, in a paper of a
later date, which refers to this time, I find fair proof that such a
condition of affairs did at this period actually exist. In the
declaration of the treason of the Earl of Essex, 1600-1, in the State
Papers we have the following passage: "There was present this day at the
Council, the Earl of Southampton, with whom in former times he (Essex)
_had been at some emulations and differences at Court_, but after,
Southampton, having married his kinswoman (Elizabeth Vernon), plunged
himself wholly into his fortunes," etc.

Though the matrimonial engagement between Burghley's granddaughter and
Southampton never reached its consummation, and we have evidence in
Roger Manners' letter of 6th March 1592 that some doubt in regard to its
fulfilment had even then arisen in Court circles, we have good grounds
for assuming that all hope for the union was not abandoned by Burghley
till a later date. Lady Elizabeth Vere eventually married the Earl of
Derby in January 1595. This marriage was arranged for in the summer of
the preceding year, and after the Earl of Derby had come into his titles
and estates, through the death of his elder brother, in April 1594.

Referring again to the State Papers, we have on 15th August 1594 the
statement of a Jesuit, named Edmund Yorke, who is reported as saying
"Burghley poisoned the Earl of Derby so as to marry his granddaughter to
his brother." Fernando Stanley, Earl of Derby, died under suspicious
circumstances after a short illness, and it was reported at the time
that he was poisoned. As he had recently been instrumental in bringing
about the execution of a prominent Jesuit, whom he had accused of having
approached him with seditious proposals, it was believed at the time
that an emissary of that society was concerned in his death. While
disregarding Yorke's atrocious imputation against Burghley, we may
safely date the inception of the negotiations leading to Elizabeth
Vere's marriage somewhere after 16th April, the date of the preceding
Earl's death; Burghley did not choose younger sons in marriage for his
daughters or granddaughters. Thus we are fully assured that, at however
earlier a date the prospects for a marriage between Southampton and Lady
Vere were abandoned, they had ceased to be entertained by the early
summer of 1594. Shortly after this, Southampton's infatuation for
Elizabeth Vernon had its inception. The intensity of the young
nobleman's early interest in this latter affair quite precludes the
necessity for Shakespeare's poetical incitements thereto; we may
therefore refer the group of sonnets, in which Shakespeare urges his
friend's marriage, to the more diffident affair of the earlier years and
to a period antedating the publication of _Venus and Adonis_ in May
1593. A comparison of the argument of _Venus and Adonis_ with that of
the first book of Sonnets will indicate a common date of production, and
that Shakespeare wrote both poems with the same purpose in view.

CHAPTER VIII

JOHN FLORIO AS SIR JOHN FALSTAFF'S ORIGINAL

Probably the most remarkable and interesting æsthetic study of a single
Shakespearean character ever produced is Maurice Morgann's _Essay on the
Dramatic Character of Sir John Falstaff_, which was written in 1774, and
first published in 1777. This excellent piece of criticism deserves a
much wider cognizance than it has ever attained; only three editions
have since been issued.

Morgann's _Essay_ was originally undertaken in jest, in order to
disprove the assertion made by an acquaintance that Falstaff was a
coward; but, inspired by his subject, it was continued and finished in
splendid earnest. As his analysis of the character of Falstaff becomes
more intimate his wonder grows at the concrete human personality he
apprehends. Falstaff ceases to be a fictive creation, or the mere
dramatic representation of a type, and takes on a distinctive
individuality. He writes:

   "The reader will not now be surprised if I affirm that those
   characters in Shakespeare, which are seen only in part, are yet
   capable of being unfolded and understood in the whole; every part
   being in fact relative, and inferring all the rest. It is true that
   the point of action or sentiment, which we are most concerned in, is
   always held out for our special notice. But who does not perceive
   that there is a peculiarity about it, which conveys a relish of the
   whole? And very frequently, when no particular point presses, he
   boldly makes a character act and speak from those parts of the
   composition, which are inferred only, and not distinctly shewn. This
   produces a wonderful effect; it seems to carry us beyond the poet to
   nature itself, and give an integrity and truth to facts and
   character, which they would not otherwise obtain. And this is in
   reality that art in Shakespeare, which being withdrawn from our
   notice, we more emphatically call nature. A felt propriety and truth
   from causes unseen, I take to be the highest point of Poetic
   composition. If the characters of Shakespeare are thus whole, and as
   it were original, while those of almost all other writers are mere
   imitation, it may be fit to consider them rather as Historic than
   Dramatic beings; and, when occasion requires, to account for their
   conduct from the whole of character, from general principles, from
   latent motives, and from policies not avowed."

Morgann was closer to the secret of Shakespeare's art than he realised;
he had really penetrated to the truth without knowing it. The reason
that his fine analytical sense had led him to feel that "it may be fit
to consider them rather as Historic than Dramatic beings" is the fact
that in practically every instance where a very distinctive
Shakespearean character, such as Falconbridge, Falstaff, Armado,
Malvolio, and Fluellen, acts and speaks "from those parts of the
composition, which are inferred only, and not distinctly shewn," the
characters so apprehended may be shown by the light of contemporary
social, literary, or political records to have been, in some measure, a
reflection of a living model. Shakespeare had literally, in his own
phrase, held "the mirror up to nature"; the reflection, however, being
heightened and vivified by the infusion of his own rare sensibility, and
the power of his dramatic genius.

With all his genius Shakespeare was yet mortal, and human creativeness
cannot transcend nature. What we call creativeness, even in the greatest
artists, is but a fineness of sensibility and cognition, or rather
recognition, coupled with the power to express what they see and feel in
nature.

As a large number of Shakespeare's plays were written primarily for
private or Court presentation, to edify or amuse his patron and his
patron's friends, or with their immediate political or factional
interests in mind to influence the Court in their favour, the shadowed
purposes of such plays, the acting or speaking of a character "from
those parts of the composition, which are inferred only, and not
distinctly shewn," as well as a number of hitherto supposedly
inexplicable asides and allusions, such as Bottom's "reason and love
keep little company together nowadays; the more the pity, that some
honest neighbours will not make them friends," would give to those
acquaintances who were in Shakespeare's confidence an added zest and
interest in such plays quite lacking to the uninitiated, or to a modern
audience.

I propose in this chapter to demonstrate the facts that John Florio--the
translator of _Montaigne's Essays_ and tutor of languages to
Shakespeare's patron, the Earl of Southampton--was Shakespeare's
original for Sir John Falstaff and other of his characters; that the
Earl of Southampton and Lady Southampton were cognizant of the shadowed
identity, and that Florio himself recognised and angrily resented the
characterisation when a knowledge of its personal application had spread
among their mutual acquaintances.

In preceding chapters and in former books[29] I have advanced evidence
of a cumulative nature for Southampton's identity as the patron
addressed in the Sonnets; the identity of Chapman as the "rival poet,"
and Shakespeare's caricature of him as Holofernes; the identity of
Matthew Roydon as the author of _Willobie his Avisa_, as well as
Shakespeare's caricature of him as the curate Nathaniel; and the
identity of Mistress Davenant as the "dark lady" of the Sonnets. If,
then, we find in the same plays in which these personal reflections are
shown a certain distinctly marked type of character, bearing stronger
_prima facie_ evidence than the others of having been developed from a
living original, may we not reasonably infer that the individual so
represented might also have been linked in life in some manner
approximating to his relations in the play, with the lives and interests
of the other persons shadowed forth?

With this idea in mind I have searched all available records relating to
Southampton, in the hope of finding among his intimates an individual
whose personality may have suggested Shakespeare's characterisation, or
caricature, set forth in the successive persons of Armado, Parolles, and
Sir John Falstaff. The traceable incidents of John Florio's life, his
long and intimate association with Shakespeare's patron, and reasonable
inferences for the periods where actual record of him is wanting, gave
probability, in my judgment, to his identity as Shakespeare's original
for these and other characters. A further consideration of the man's
personality, temperament, and mental habitude, as I could dimly trace
them in his few literary remains that afford scope for unconscious
self-revelation, left no doubt in my mind as to his identity as
Shakespeare's model.

Supposing it to be impossible, with our present records, to visualise
Shakespeare more definitely in his contemporary environment, it has been
common with biographers, in their endeavours to link him with the men of
his times, to draw imaginative pictures of his intimate and friendly
personal relations with such men as Sir Walter Raleigh, Bacon, Chapman,
Marston, and others, equally improbable, forgetting the social
distinctions, the scholastic prejudices, and still more, the religious
or political animosities that divided men in public life in those days,
as they do, though in a lesser degree, to-day. The intimate relations of
the Earl of Southampton with Lord Burghley, during the earliest period
of his Court life, when he was affianced to Burghley's granddaughter,
and his later intimacy with the Earl of Essex and with the gentlemen of
the Essex faction, coupled with Shakespeare's sympathy with the cause of
his patron and his patron's friends, must be borne in mind in any
endeavour that is made to trace in the plays either Shakespeare's
political leanings or his probable affiliations with, or antagonisms to,
his early contemporaries. The natural jealousies that would arise
between the followers, dependants, or protégés of a liberal patron must
also be considered.

John Florio became connected, in the capacity of Italian tutor, with the
Earl of Southampton late in the year 1590, or early in 1591, shortly
after his coming to Court, and a little before Southampton first began
to show favour to Shakespeare. We have Florio's own statement for the
fact that he continued in Southampton's "pay and patronage" at least as
late as 1598, in which year he published his _Worlde of Wordes_. Whether
or not he continued in Southampton's service after this date is
uncertain, but we may safely impute to that nobleman's good offices the
favour shown to him by James I. and his Queen in 1604, and later.

From the first time that Shakespeare and Florio were thrown together,
through their mutual connection with Southampton, in or about 1591, down
to the year 1609, when the Sonnets were issued at the instigation of
Shakespeare's literary rivals, I find intermittent traces of antagonism
between them, and also of Florio's intimacy and sympathy with Chapman
and his friends. In later years, Chapman, Jonson, and Marston, however,
seem to have recognised in Florio an unstable ally, and tacitly to have
regarded him as a selfish and shifty opportunist. Florio appears to have
used his intimacy with Southampton, and his knowledge of that nobleman's
relations with Shakespeare and the "dark lady" in 1593 to 1594, to the
poet's disadvantage, by imparting intelligence of the affair to Chapman
and Roydon, the latter of whom exploited this knowledge in the
production of _Willobie his Avisa_.

In Chapman's dedication to Roydon of _The Shadow of Night_ in 1594, he
shows knowledge of the fact that Shakespeare was practically reader to
the Earl of Southampton, and that he passed his judgment upon literary
matter submitted to that nobleman. Referring to Shakespeare, Chapman
writes: "How then may a man stay his marvailing to see passion-driven
men, reading but to curtail a tedious hour, and altogether hidebound
with affection to great men's fancies, take upon them as killing
censures as if they were judgment's butchers, or as if the life of truth
lay tottering in their verdicts." This reference to Shakespeare as
"passion-driven" refers to the affair of the "dark lady," upon which
Chapman's friend, Roydon, was then at work in _Willobie his Avisa_.
Florio, in later years, as shall appear, also makes a very distinct
point at Shakespeare as a "reader." Unless there was an enemy in
Shakespeare's camp to report to Chapman and Roydon the fact of his
"reading" to curtail tedious hours for his patron, and to convey
intelligence to Roydon of Shakespeare's and Southampton's relations with
the "dark lady," either by reporting the affair or by bringing
Shakespeare's earlier MS. _books_ of sonnets to his notice, it is
improbable that these men would have had such intimate knowledge of the
incidents and conditions of this stage of Shakespeare's friendship with
his patron. Florio probably fostered the hostility of these scholars to
Shakespeare by imputing to his influence their ill-success in winning
Southampton's favour. It is not improbable that for his own protection
he secretly used his influence with Southampton in defeating their
advances while posing as their friend and champion. Shakespeare
distrusted Florio from the beginning of his acquaintance, and deprecated
his influence upon his patron.

In the earlier stages of Shakespeare's observation of Florio he appears
to have been more amused than angered, but as the years pass his dislike
grows, as he sees more clearly into the cold selfishness of a character,
obscured to his earlier and more casual view by the interesting
personality and frank and humorous worldly wisdom of the man. However
heightened and amplified by Shakespeare's imagination the
characterisation of Falstaff may now appear, a consideration of the
actual character of Florio, as we find it revealed between the lines of
his own literary productions, and in the few contemporary records of him
that have survived, suggests on Shakespeare's part portrayal rather than
caricature.

Assuming for the present that Shakespeare has characterised, or
caricatured, Florio as Parolles, Armado, and Falstaff, the first and
second of these characters are represented in plays originally produced
in, or about, 1592, but reflecting the spirit and incidents of the
Cowdray and Tichfield progress of the autumn of 1591. While these plays
were altered at a later period, or periods, of revision, it is apparent
that both characters pertain in a large measure to the plays in their
earlier forms. If Shakespeare used Florio as his model for these
characters, we have added evidence that by the autumn of 1591 Florio had
already entered the "pay and patronage" of Southampton, who about this
period, under his tuition and in anticipation of continental travel,
developed his knowledge of Italian and French. In his dedication of the
_Worlde of Wordes_ to Southampton in 1598, Florio writes:

   "In truth I acknowledge an entire debt, not only of my best
   knowledge, but of all, yea of more than I know or can, to your
   bounteous Lordship, most noble, most virtuous, and most Honourable
   Earl of Southampton, in whose pay and patronage I have lived some
   years, to whom I owe and vow the years I have to live."

Further on in this dedication he refers to Southampton's study of
Italian under his tuition as follows:

   "I might make doubt least I or mine be not now of any further use to
   your self-sufficiencie, being at home so instructed in Italian as
   teaching or learning could supply that there seemed no need of
   travell, and now by travell so accomplished as what wants to
   perfection?"

_All's Well that Ends Well_, in its earlier form of _Loves Labour's
Won_, reflects the spirit and incidents of the Queen's progress to
Tichfield House in September 1591; the widowed Countess of Rousillon
personifies the widowed Countess of Southampton; the wise and courtly
Lafeu the courtly Sir Thomas Heneage, who within three years married the
Countess of Southampton. I have suggested that Bertram represented
Southampton, and that his coolness towards Helena, and his proposed
departure for the French Court, reflects Southampton's disinclination to
the marriage with Elizabeth Vere, and the fact of his departure shortly
afterwards for France. In Florio, who was at that time attached to the
Earl of Southampton's establishment, and presumably was present upon the
occasion of the progress to Tichfield, we have the prototype of
Parolles, though much of the present characterisation of that person,
while referring to the same original, undoubtedly pertains to a period
of later time revision, which on good evidence I date in, or about, the
autumn of 1598, at which period Shakespeare's earlier antipathy had
grown by knowledge and experience into positive aversion.

In 1591 Southampton was still a ward in Chancery, and the management of
his personal affairs and expenditures under the supervision of Lord
Burghley, to whose granddaughter he was affianced. It is evident then
that when Florio was retained in the capacity of tutor, or bear-leader,
and with the intention of having him accompany the young Earl upon his
continental travels, his selection for the post would be made by
Burghley--Southampton's guardian--who in former years had patronised and
befriended Florio's father.

In Lafeu's early distrust of Parolles' pretensions, and his eventual
recognition of his cowardice and instability, I believe we have a
reflection of the attitude of Sir Thomas Heneage towards Florio, and a
suggestion of his disapproval of Florio's intimacy with Southampton.
This leads me to infer that though Lady Southampton and Heneage
apparently acquiesced in, and approved of, Burghley's marital plans for
Southampton, secretly they were not displeased at their miscarriage.

When Southampton first came to Court he was a fresh and unspoiled youth,
with high ideals and utterly unacquainted with the ethical latitude and
moral laxity of city and Court life. In bringing him to Court and the
notice of the Queen, and at the same time endeavouring to unite his
interests with his own by marriage with his granddaughter, Burghley
hoped that--as in the case of his son-in-law, the Earl of Oxford, some
years before--Southampton would become a Court favourite, and possibly
supplant Essex in the Queen's favour, as the Earl of Oxford had for a
while threatened to displace Leicester. The ingenuous frankness and
independence of the young Earl, however, appeared likely to defeat the
plans of the veteran politician. Burghley now resolved that he must
broaden his protégé's knowledge of the world and adjust his ideals to
Court life. He accordingly engaged the sophisticated and world-bitten
Florio as his intellectual and moral mentor. I do not find any record of
Southampton's departure for France immediately after the Cowdray
progress, but it is apparent either that he accompanied the Earl of
Essex upon that nobleman's return to his command in France after a short
visit to England in October 1591, or that he followed shortly
afterwards. Essex was recalled from France in January 1592 (new style),
and on 2nd March of the same year we have a letter dated at Dieppe from
Southampton to Essex in England, which shows that Southampton was with
the army in France within a few months of the Cowdray progress.

Conceiving both Parolles and Falstaff to be caricatures of Florio I
apprehend in the military functions of these characters a reflection of
a probable quasi-military experience of their original during his
connection with Southampton in the year 1592.

An English force held Dieppe for Henry IV. in March 1592, awaiting
reinforcements from England to move against the army of the League,
which was encamped near the town. If Southampton took Florio with him at
this time it is quite likely that he had him appointed to a captaincy,
though probably not to a command. Captain Roger Williams, a brave and
capable Welsh officer (whom I have reason to believe was Shakespeare's
original for the Welsh Captain Fluellen in _Henry V_.), joined the army
at the end of this month, bringing with him six hundred men. In a letter
to the Council, upon his departure from England, he writes sarcastically
of the number and inefficiency of the captains being made. This letter
is so characteristic of the man, and so reminiscent of blunt Fluellen,
that I shall quote it in full.

   "Moste Honorables, yesterdaie it was your Lordship's pleasure to
   shewe the roll of captaines by their names. More then half of them
   are knowen unto me sufficient to take charges; a greate number of
   others, besides the rest in that roll, although not knowen unto me,
   maie be as sufficient as the others, perhapps knowen unto menn of
   farr better judgment than myselfe. To saie truthe, no man ought to
   meddle further than his owne charge. Touching the three captaines
   that your Lordships appointed to go with me, I knowe Polate and
   Coverd, but not the thirde. There is one Captaine Polate, a Hampshire
   man, an honest gentleman, worthie of good charge. There is another
   not worthie to be a sergeant of a band, as Sir John Norris knows,
   with many others; and I do heare by my Lord of Sussex it is he.
   Captain Coverd is worthie, but not comparable unto a dozen others
   that have no charge; but whatsoever your Lordships direct unto me, I
   muste accept, and will do my best endeavour to discharge my dutie
   towards the service comitted unto me. But be assured that the more
   new captaines that are made, the more will begg, I meane will trouble
   her Majestie after the warrs, unless the olde be provided for. I must
   confess I wrote effectual for one Captaine Smithe unto Sir Philipp
   Butler; two of the name Sir John Norris will confess to be well
   worthie to commande, at the least, three hundred men a-piece. He that
   I named, my desire is that he may be one of myne. I protest, on my
   poore credytt, I never delt with her Majestic concerning any of those
   captaines, nor anything that your Lordships spake yesterday before
   me; but true it is, I spake before the Earle of Essex and Sir John
   Norris, it was pittie that young captaines should be accepted and the
   old refused. True it is that I toulde them also that the lieutenants
   of the shire knew not those captaines so well as ourselves. On my
   creditt, my meaning was the deputies lieutenants, the which, as it
   was toulde me, had made all these captaines. My speeches are no lawe,
   nor scarce good judgment, for the warrs were unknowen to me 22 yeres
   agon. Notwithstanding, it shall satisfie me, that the greatest
   generalls in that time took me to be a souldier, for the which I will
   bring better proofs than any other of my qualitie shall deny. Humbly
   desiring your Lordships' accustomed good favor towards me, I reste to
   spend my life alwaies at her Majestie's pleasure, and at your
   Lordships' devotion. (27th March 1591.)"

Within a short period of the arrival of Sir Roger Williams he had
dispersed the enemy and opened up the road to the suburbs of Paris;
which city was then held by the combined forces of the League and the
Spanish. I cannot learn whether Southampton accompanied the troops in
the proposed attack on Paris or continued his travels into the
Netherlands and Spain. Some verses in _Willobie his Avisa_ suggest such
a tour at this time. He was back in England, however, by September 1592,
when he accompanied the Queen and Court to Oxford. It is probable that
Florio accompanied the Earl of Southampton upon this occasion, and that
the nobleman's acquaintance with the mistress of the Crosse Inn, the
beginning of which I date at this time, was due to his introduction.
Florio lived for many years at Oxford and was undoubtedly familiar with
its taverns and tavern keepers.[30]

In depicting Parolles as playing Pander for Bertram, and at the same
time secretly pressing his own suit, I am convinced that Shakespeare
caricatured Florio's relations with Southampton and the "dark lady." It
is not unlikely that Florio is included by Roydon in _Willobie his
Avisa_ among Avisa's numerous suitors.

The literary history of _All's Well that Ends Well_, aside from internal
considerations, suggests that it was not composed originally for public
performance, nor revised with the public in mind. It appeared in print
for the first time in the Folio of 1623, and it is practically certain
that no earlier edition was issued. If we except Meres' mention of the
play, _Love's Labour's Won_, in 1598, the earliest reference we have to
_All's Well that Ends Well_ is that in the Stationers' Registers dated
8th November 1623, where it is recorded as a play not previously entered
to other men. There is no record of its presentation during
Shakespeare's lifetime.

Though the old play of _Love's Labour's Won_ mentioned by Meres has been
variously identified by critics, the consensus of judgment of the
majority is in favour of its identification as _All's Well that Ends
Well_. In no other of Shakespeare's plays--even in instances where we
have actual record of revision--can we so plainly recognise by internal
evidence both the work of his "pupil" and of his master pen. As I have
assigned the original composition of this play to the year 1592,
regarding it as a reflection of the Queen's progress to Tichfield House
and of the incidents of the Earl of Southampton's life at, and
following, that period, so I infer and believe I can demonstrate that
its revision reflects the same personal influences under new phases in
later years.

In February 1598 the Earl of Southampton left England for the French
Court with Sir Robert Cecil. He returned secretly in August and was
married privately at Essex House to Elizabeth Vernon, whose condition
had recently caused her dismissal from the Court. Southampton returned
to France as secretly as he had come, but knowledge of his return and of
his unauthorised marriage reaching the Queen, she issued an order for
his immediate recall, and upon his return in November committed him, and
even threatened to commit his wife (who was now a mother), to the Fleet.
It is not unlikely that Florio accompanied Southampton to France upon
this visit, and that much of Shakespeare's irritation at this time arose
from Southampton's neglect or coolness, which he supposed to be due to
Florio's increasing influence, to which Shakespeare also imputed much of
the young Earl's ill-regulated manner of life at this period.

In the happy ending of Helena's troubles, and in Bertram's recognition
of his moral responsibility and marital obligations, and also in the
significant change of the title of this play from _Love's Labour's Won_
to _All's Well that Ends Well_, we have Shakespeare's combined reproof
and approval of Southampton's recent conduct towards Elizabeth Vernon,
as well as a practical reflection of the actual facts in their case.

At about this time, in addition to the revision of _All's Well that Ends
Well_, I date the first production, though not the original composition,
of _Troilus and Cressida_, and also the final revision of _Love's
Labour's Lost_. In this latter play the part taken by Armado was, I
believe, enlarged and revised, as in the case of Parolles in _All's Well
that Ends Well_, to suit the incidents and characterisation to
Shakespeare's developed knowledge of, and experience with, Florio. There
are several small but significant links of description between the
Parolles of 1598 and the enlarged Armado of the same date. Both of these
characters are represented as braggart soldiers and also as linguists,
which evidently reflect Florio's quasi-military connection with
Southampton and his known proficiency in languages.

In Act IV. Scene iii. Parolles is referred to as "the manifold linguist
and armipotent soldier." In _Love's Labour's Lost_, in Act I. Scene i.,
in lines that palpably belong to the play in its earliest form, Armado
is described as "a man of fire-new words." He is also represented as a
traveller from Spain. In Act V. Scene ii., in lines that pertain to the
revision of 1598, he is made to take the soldier's part again, in giving
him the character of Hector in _The Nine Worthies_. In this character
Armado is made to use the peculiar word "armipotent" twice. It is
significant that this word is never used by Shakespeare except in
connection with Armado and Parolles. In giving Armado the character of
Hector, I am convinced that Shakespeare again indicates Florio's
military experience. In the lines which Armado recites in the character
of Hector, Shakespeare intentionally makes his personal point at Florio
more strongly indicative by alluding to the name Florio by the word
"flower," in the interrupted line with which Hector ends his verses.

   ARM. Peace!----
         "The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
         Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
         A man so breathed, that certain he would fight ye
         From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
         I am that flower,----"

He reinforces his indication by Dumain's and Longaville's
interpolations--"That mint," "That columbine." Florio undoubtedly
indicated this meaning to his own name in entitling his earliest
publication _First Fruites_ and a later publication _Second Fruites_. In
a sonnet addressed to him by some friend of his who signs himself
"Ignoto," his name is also referred to in this sense. In his
Italian-English dictionary, published in 1598, he does not include the
word Florio. In the edition of 1611, however, he includes it, but states
that it means, "A kind of bird." In using the word "columbine"
Shakespeare gives the double meaning of a flower and also a bird. Florio
used a flower for his emblem, and had inscribed under his portrait in
the 1611 edition of his _Worlde of Wordes_:

     "Floret adhuc et adhuc florebit
     Florius haec specie floridus optat amans."

The frequent references to the characters of the _Iliad_ in this act and
scene of _Love's Labour's Lost_ link the period of its insertion with
the date of the original composition of _Troilus and Cressida_ in, or
about, 1598, to which time I have also assigned the revision of _Love's
Labour's Won_ into _All's Well that Ends Well_, and the development of
Parolles into a misleader of youth.

Another phase of Act V. Scene ii. of _Love's Labour's Lost_ appears to
be a reflection of an affair in the life of the individual whom
Shakespeare has in mind in the delineation of the characters of Armado
and Sir John Falstaff. Costard accuses Armado regarding his relations
with Jaquenetta.

   COST. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two
   months on her way.

   ARM. What meanest thou?

   COST. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is
   cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already: 'tis
   yours.

   ARM. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates?

Precisely similar conditions are shown to exist in the relations between
Falstaff and Doll Tearsheet, in the _Second Part of Henry IV._, in which
play there are also allusions to the characters of the _Iliad_, which
link its composition with the same period as _Troilus and Cressida_; and
an allusion to _The Nine Worthies_ that apparently link it in time with
the final revision of _Love's Labour's Lost_ late in 1598.

   ACT V. SCENE IV.

   _Enter_ BEADLES _dragging in Hostess_ QUICKLY _and_ DOLL TEARSHEET.

   HOST. No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might have thee
   hanged: thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.

   FIRST BEAD. The constables have delivered her over to me: and she
   shall have whipping-cheer enough I warrant her: there hath been a man
   or two lately killed about her.

   DOL. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I'll tell thee what, thou
   damned tripe-visaged rascal, and the child I now go with miscarry,
   thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced
   villain.

   HOST. O the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would make this a
   bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb
   miscarry.

The natural sequel to the conditions so plainly indicated in the
passages quoted from the lately revised _Love's Labour's Lost_,
regarding Jaquenetta and Armado, and from the recently written _Henry
IV._ in reference to Doll Tearsheet and Falstaff, is reported in due
time in a postscript to a letter written by Elizabeth Vernon, now Lady
Southampton, on 8th July 1599, to her husband, who was in Ireland with
Essex. She writes from Chartley:

   "All the nues I can send you that I thinke will make you mery is that
   I reade in a letter from London that Sir John Falstaff is by his
   Mistress Dame Pintpot made father of a godly millers thum a boye
   thats all heade and very litel body: but this is a secret."

Here we have record that Shakespeare's patron, and his patron's wife,
knew that Falstaff had a living prototype who was numbered among their
acquaintances. That the birth of this child was not in wedlock is
suggested by the concluding words of the Countess's letter "but this is
a secret."

The identification of Florio as the original caricatured as Parolles and
Falstaff has never been anticipated, though some critics have noticed
the basic resemblances between these two characters of Shakespeare's.
Parolles has been called by Schlegel, "the little appendix to the great
Falstaff."

A few slight links in the names of characters have led some commentators
to date a revision of _All's Well that Ends Well_ at about the same time
as that of the composition of _Measure for Measure_ and _Hamlet_. While
the links of subjective evidence I have adduced for one revision in, or
about, the autumn of 1598, and at the same period as that of the
composition of the _Second Part of Henry IV._, of the final revision of
_Love's Labour's Lost_, and shortly after the production of _Troilus and
Cressida_, in 1598, are fairly conclusive, a consideration of the
characterisation of Falstaff in the _First Part of Henry IV._ and of the
evidence usually advanced for the date of the composition of this play
will elucidate this idea.

The _First Part of Henry IV._ in its present form belongs to a period
shortly preceding the date of its entry in the Stationers' Registers, in
February 1598. I am convinced that it was published at this time with
Shakespeare's cognizance, and that he revised it with this intention in
mind. All inference and evidence assign the composition of the _Second
Part of Henry IV._ to some part of the year 1598. It is unlikely,
however, that it was included in Meres' mention of _Henry IV._ in his
_Palladis Tamia_, which was entered on the Stationers' Registers in
September of that year. If the link between Doll Tearsheet's condition
and the similar affair reported in Lady Southampton's letter in July
1599 be connected in intention with the same conditions reflected in the
case of Armado and Jaquenetta, its date of production is palpably
indicated, as is also the final revision of _Love's Labour's Lost_ in
about December 1598. Both of these plays were probably presented--the
_Second Part of Henry IV._ for the first time, and _Love's Labour's
Lost_ for the first time in its final form--for the Christmas
festivities at Court, in 1598. While the Quarto of _Love's Labours Lost_
is dated as published in 1598, there is no record of its intended
publication in the Stationers' Registers. It must be remembered,
however, that all publications issued previous to the 25th of March 1599
would be dated 1598.

A comparison of the two parts of _Henry IV._ under the metrical test,
while clearly showing _Part I._ as an earlier composition, yet
approximates their dates so closely in time as to suggest a
comparatively recent and thorough revision of the earlier portion of the
play in 1597 or 1598. It is plain, however, that Shakespeare's _Henry
IV., Part I._, held the boards in some form for several years before
this date. The numerous contemporary references, under the name of Sir
John Oldcastle, to the character now known as Falstaff, evidences on the
part of the public such a settled familiarity with this same character,
under the old name, as to suggest frequent presentations of
Shakespeare's play in the earlier form. The Oldcastle of _The Famous
Victories of Henry V._ has no connection whatever with the
characterisation of Falstaff.

Though the metrical evidences of so early a date are now obscured by the
drastic revision of the autumn of 1597, or spring of 1598, I am of the
opinion that _Henry IV., Part I._, as it was originally written, belongs
to a period antedating the publication of _Willobie his Avisa_ in 1594,
and that it was composed late in 1593, or early in 1594. I am led to
this conclusion by the underlying thread of subjective evidence linking
the plays of this period with the affairs of Southampton and his
connections. It is unlikely that Shakespeare would introduce that "sweet
wench" my "Young Mistress of the Tavern" into a play after the
publication of the scandal intended by Roydon in 1594, and probable that
he altered the characterisation of the hostess to the old and widowed
Mistress Quickly in the _Second Part of Henry IV._ for this reason.

Believing that _Love's Labour's Won_--i.e. _All's Well that Ends Well_
in its earlier form--reflects Southampton in the person of Bertram, and
Florio as Parolles, I have suggested that the military capacity of the
latter character infers a temporary military experience of Florio's in
the year 1592. It is evident that most of the matter in this play
following Act IV. Scene iii. belongs to the period of revision in 1598.
In Act IV. Scene iii. we have what was apparently Parolles' final
appearance in the old play of 1592; here he has been exposed, and his
purpose in the play ended.

   FIRST SOLDIER. You are undone, Captain, all but your scarf; that has
   a knot on't yet.

   PAROLLES. Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

   FIRST SOLDIER. If you could find out a country where women were that
   had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare
   ye well, Sir; I am for France too; we shall speak of you there.

      [_Exit Soldiers._

   PAROLLES. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
             'Twould burst at this. Captain, I'll be no more;
             But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft
             As captain shall: simply the thing I am
             Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
             Let him fear this, for it will come to pass
             That every braggart shall be found an ass.
             Rust sword! cool blushes! and, Parolles, live
             Safest in shame, being fool'd, by foolery thrive.
             There's place and means for every man alive.
             I'll after them.

     [_Exit._

The resolution he here forms augurs for the future a still greater moral
deterioration. He resolves to seek safety in shame; to thrive by
foolery; and, though fallen from his captaincy, to

     "eat and drink, and sleep as soft as captain shall."

When Shakespeare resumed his plan of reflecting Florio's association
with Southampton, in the _First Part of Henry IV._ he recalled the state
of mind and morals in which he had left him as Parolles in _Love's
Labour's Won_, and allowing for a short lapse of time, and the effects
of the life he had resolved to live, introduces him in _Henry IV._,
Part I. Act 1. Scene ii., as follows:

   FAL. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

   PRINCE. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack and
   unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon benches after noon,
   that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou would'st
   truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day?
   Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the
   tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the
   blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see
   no reason why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of
   day.

In Parolles and Falstaff we have displayed the same lack of moral
consciousness, the same grossly sensuous materialism, and withal, the
same unquenchable optimism and colossal impudence.

When we remember that though Shakespeare based his play upon the old
_Famous Victories of Henry V._ and took from it the name Oldcastle, that
the actual characterisation of his Oldcastle--Falstaff--has no prototype
in the original, the abrupt first entry upon the scene of this
tavern-lounger and afternoon sleeper-upon-benches, as familiarly
addressing the heir apparent as "Hal" and "lad," supplies a good
instance of Shakespeare's method--noticed by Maurice Morgann--of making
a character _act and speak from those parts of the composition which are
inferred only and not distinctly shown_; but to the initiated, including
Southampton and his friends, who knew the bumptious self-sufficiency of
Shakespeare's living model, and who followed the developing
characterisation from play to play, the effect of such bold dramatic
strokes must have been irresistibly diverting.

It is difficult now to realise the avidity with which such publications
as Florio's _First_ and _Second Fruites_ were welcomed from the press
and read by the cultured, or culture-seeking, public of his day. Italy
being then regarded as the centre of culture and fashion a colloquial
knowledge of Italian was a fashionable necessity. A reference in a
current play to an aphorism of Florio's or to a characteristic passage
from the proverbial philosophy of which he constructs his
Italian-English conversations, which would pass unnoticed now, would be
readily recognised by a fashionable Elizabethan audience.

When Shakespeare, through the utterances of the prince, characterises
Falstaff by suggestion upon his first appearance in the play in the
following lines:

   "Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack and unbuttoning
   thee after supper and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou
   hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou would'st truly know,"

for the benefit of his initiated friends he links up and continues
Florio's characterisation as Parolles and Falstaff, and in the remainder
of the passage,

   "What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours
   are cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of
   bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun
   himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta,"

suggests Florio's character from his own utterances in the _Second
Fruites_, where one of the characters holds forth as follows:

   "As for me, I never will be able, nor am I able, to be willing but to
   love whatsoever pleaseth women, to whom I dedicate, yield, and
   consecrate what mortal thing soever I possess, and I say, that a
   salad, a woman and a capon, as yet was never out of season."

A consideration of certain of the divergences between the _dramatis
personæ_ of the _First Part of Henry IV._ and the _Second Part of Henry
IV._, made in the light of the thread of subjective evidence in the
plays of the Sonnet period, may give us some new clues in determining
the relative periods of their original composition.

In the _First Part of Henry IV._ the hostess of the tavern is referred
to as a young and beautiful woman in Act I. Scene ii., as follows:

   FALSTAFF.... And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

   PRINCE. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a
           buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

   FAL.    How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips and quiddities?
           What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?

   PRINCE. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

   FAL.    Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

   PRINCE. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

   FAL.    No, I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. */

   PRINCE. Yes, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and
           where it would not, I have used my credit.

   FAL.    Yea, and so used it that, were it not here apparent that thou
           art heir apparent--but, I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be
           gallows standing in England when thou art king? And resolution
           thus fobbed as  it is with the rusty curb of old father antic
           the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

Falstaff's impertinent and suggestive reference to the prince's intimacy
with the hostess, not being taken well, he quickly gives the
conversation a turn to cover up the mistake he finds he has made. It is
palpable that the characterisation of the hostess in the _First Part of
Henry IV._, in its original form, was not the same as that presented in
the _Second Part_ of this play in which she is represented as Mistress
Quickly, an old, unattractive, and garrulous widow. In the _First Part
of Henry IV._ she is mentioned only once as Mistress Quickly. In Act
III. Scene iii. the prince addresses her under this name and inquires
about her husband.

   PRINCE. What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? I
           love him well; he is an honest man.

This single mention of the hostess as Mistress Quickly is evidently an
interpolation made at the period of the revision of this play late in
1597, or early in 1598. It is also probable that the revision at this
time was made with the intention of linking the action of the _First
Part_ to the _Second Part_ of the play, the outline of which Shakespeare
was probably planning at that time.

The dramatic time of the _First Part_ of the play has been estimated as
at the outside covering a period of three months, and of the _Second
Part_, a period of two months. No long interval is supposed to have
elapsed between the action of the two parts; yet, in the _First Part_ of
the play the hostess is young, attractive, and has a husband. In the
_Second Part_, she is old, unattractive, and is a widow. This divergence
is evidently to be accounted for by the fact that the _First Part of
Henry IV._ in its earliest, and unrevised, form was written, not long
after the composition of _Love's Labour's Won_ (_All's Well that Ends
Well_ in its early form), and during the estrangement between
Southampton and Shakespeare in 1594, caused by the nobleman's relations
with the "dark lady," that "most sweet wench," "my hostess of the
tavern."

I have indicated a certain continuity and link of characterisation
between Parolles, as we leave him in _All's Well that Ends Well_, and
Falstaff, as we first encounter him in the _First Part of Henry IV._ I
shall now demonstrate parallels between the characterisation of Falstaff
in the _First Part of Henry IV._, and the tone and spirit of the
conversations between the imaginary characters of Florio's _Second
Fruites_. Fewer resemblances are to be found between the _Second
Fruites_ and the _Second Part of Henry IV._ From this I infer that when
Shakespeare composed the _First Part of Henry IV._ in its original form,
his personal acquaintance with Florio was recent and limited, and that
he developed his characterisation of Falstaff in that portion of the
play largely from Florio's self-revelation in the _Second Fruites_, and
that in continuing this characterisation later on, in the _Second Part_
of the play, he reinforced it from a closer personal observation of the
idiosyncrasies of his prototype.

The Earl of Southampton, who was shadowed forth as Bertram in _Love's
Labour's Won_, with Parolles as his factotum,--representing Florio in
that capacity,--becomes the prince in _Henry IV._, while Florio becomes
Falstaff. The _First Part_ of the play in its original form reflected
their connection and the affair of the "dark lady" in 1593-94. The
_First Part of Henry IV._, in its revised form, and the _Second Part of
Henry IV._ reflect a resumed, or a continued, familiarity between
Southampton and Florio in 1598. This leads me to infer that Florio may
again have accompanied Southampton when he left England with Sir Robert
Cecil for the French Court in February 1598, in much the same capacity
as he had served him on his first visit to France in 1592, when they
were first reflected as Bertram and Parolles.

In the original development of the characterisation of Parolles, Armado,
and Falstaff, I am convinced that Shakespeare worked, not only from
observation of his prototype in their daily intercourse, but that he
also studied Florio's mental and moral angles and literary mannerisms in
his extant productions. If Armado's letters to Jaquenetta and to the
King be compared with Florio's dedication of his _Second Fruites_--which
was published in 1591, several months preceding the original composition
of _Love's Labour's Lost_--and also with his "Address to the Reader," a
similitude will be found that certainly passes coincidence. A comparison
of Parolles' and Falstaff's opportunist and materialistic philosophy
with Florio's outlook on life as we find it unconsciously exhibited in
his _Second Fruites_, reveals a characteristic unity that plainly
displays intentional parody on Shakespeare's part.

Didactic literature seldom presents the real character and workaday
opinions and beliefs of a writer. The teacher generally speaks from a
height transcending his ordinary levels of thought and action. In
Florio's _Second Fruites_ his intention is didactic only in relation to
imparting a colloquial knowledge of Italian. In this endeavour he
arranges a series of twelve conversations on matters of everyday life
between imaginary characters, who are, presumably, of about the same
social quality as his usual pupils--the younger gentry of the time. In
these talks his intention was to be entirely natural and to reproduce,
what he conceived to be, ordinary conversation between gentlemen of
fashion. In doing this he reveals ethics, manners, and morals of a
decidedly Falstaffian flavour. The gross and satyr-like estimate of
women he displays; his primping enjoyment of apparel; the gusto with
which he converses of things to eat and drink--of ale, and wine, and
capons; his distrust of the minions of the law; his knowledge and horror
of arrest and imprisonment, and his frankly animal zest of life, all
suggest Shakespeare's knowledge of the book as well as the man.

As Florio's _Second Fruites_ is not easily accessible to the general
reader, a few extracts may serve to exhibit the characteristic
resemblances to Shakespeare's delineation of Falstaff.

The twelve chapters of the work are headed as follows:

   The first chapter, "Of rising in the morning and of things belonging
   to the chamber and to apparel."

   The second, "For common speech in the morning between friends;
   wherein is described a set of tennis."

   The third, "Of familiar morning communication; wherein many
   courtesies are handled, and the manner of visiting and saluting the
   sick, and of riding, with all that belongeth to a horse."

   The fourth chapter, "Wherein is set down a dinner for six persons,
   between whom there fall many pleasant discourses concerning meat and
   repast."

   The fifth, "Wherein discourse is held of play and many things thereto
   appertaining, a game of primero and of chess."

   The sixth chapter, "Concerning many familiar and ceremonious
   compliments among six gentlemen who talk of many pleasant matters,
   but especially of divers necessary, profitable, civil, and proverbial
   receipts for a traveller."

   The seventh, "Between two gentlemen who talk of arms, and of the art
   of fencing, and of buying and selling."

   The eighth chapter, "Between James, and Lippa, his man, wherein they
   talk of many pleasant and delightsome jests, and in it is described
   an unpleasant lodging, an illformed old woman, also the beautiful
   parts that a woman ought to have to be accounted fair in all
   perfection, and pleasantly blazoned a counterfeit lazy and
   naught-worth servant."

   The ninth, "Between Cæzar and Tiberio; wherein they discourse of news
   of the Court, of courtiers of this day, and of many other matters of
   delight."

   The tenth chapter, "Between gentlemen and a servant; wherein they
   talk of going to supper, and familiar speech late in the evening."

   The eleventh, "Wherein they talk of going to bed, and many things
   thereto belonging."

   The twelfth, "Wherein proverbially and pleasantly discourse is held
   of love and women."

He makes one of his characters end this last chapter as follows:

   "As for me, I never will be able, nor am I able, to be willing but to
   love whatsoever pleaseth women, to whom I dedicate, yield, and
   consecrate what mortal thing soever I possess, and I say, that a
   salad, a woman, and a capon as yet was never out of season."

The remarkable resemblance between the sentiments here expressed and the
characteristics attributed to Falstaff by Prince Henry in the passage
quoted above from _Henry IV._, Act I. Scene ii., suggest Shakespeare's
knowledge of the _Second Fruites_.

He describes the wardrobe of a man of fashion with envious unction,
giving a minute inventory of his shirts, handkerchiefs, ruffs, cuffs,
towels, quoises, shoes, buskins, daggers, swords, gloves, doublets,
jerkins, gowns, hats, caps, and boots. The very superabundance
recalling, by contrast, the paucity in this regard in the cases of
Armado and Falstaff.

The philosophy of his conversations is selfish and worldly-wise to a
degree, with nowhere the slightest suggestion of ideality or altruism.

   "T. From those that I do trust, good Lord deliver me, from such as I
   mistrust, I'll harmless come to be.

   G. He gives me so many good words I cannot fail but trust him.

   T. Wot you not that fair words and foul deeds are wont to make both
   fools and wise men fain.

   G. I know it, but if he beat me with a sword, I will beat him again
   with a scabbard.

   T. What, will you give him bread for cake then?

   G. If any man wrong thee, wrong him again, or else be sure to
   remember it."

In the conversation concerning meats and repast he is Gargantuan in his
descriptions.

   "S. The meat is coming in, let us set down.

   C. I would wash first if it were not to trouble Robert.

   S. What, ho! Bring some water to wash our hands.

   ROBERT. Here it is fresh and good to drinke for a neede.

   H. God hath made water for other things than to drinke.

   C. Hast thou not heard that water rots, not only men, but stakes?

   R. Yet men say that water was made to drinke, to saile, and to wash.

   M. It was good to drinke when men did eat acornes.

   T. I pray you set down for I have a good stomach.

   N. As for a good stomach, I do yield a jot unto you.

   S. My masters, the meat cooles.

   S. My masters, sit down; every man take his place.

   N. Tush, I pray you, sit down.

   C. With obliging you I shall show myself unmannerly.

   H. Of courtesie, Master M., sit here between us two.

   M. Virtue consists in the midst quothe the devil when he found
   himself between two nuns.

   S. Bring hither that salad, those steaks, that leg of mutton, that
   piece of beef with all the boiled meats we have.

   S. I pray you, every man serve himself, let everyone cut where he
   please, and seek the best morsels.

   N. Truly these meats are very well seasoned.

   S. Call for drinke when you please, and what kind of wine you like
   best.

   N. Give me some wine but put some water in it.

   S. You may well enough drinke it pure, for our wines are all borne
   under the sign of Aquarius.

   M. Do you not know that wine watered is esteemed a vile thing?

   C. Give me a cup of beere, or else a bowl of ale.

   S. I pray you, do not put that sodden water into your bellie.

   C. I like it as well as wine, chiefly this hot weather.

   T. He that drinks wine drinks blood, he that drinks water drinks
   fleame (phlegm).

   H. I love to drink wine after the Dutch fashion.

   T. How do they drinke it, I pray you?

   H. In the morning, pure; at dinner, without water, and at night as it
   comes from the vessel.

   M. I like this rule; they are wise, and God's blessing light upon
   them.

   H. A slice of bacon would make us taste this wine well.

   S. What, ho! set that gammon of bacon on the board.

   M. God be thanked, I am at a truce with my stomach.

   T. In faith, I would stay until the bells do ring.

   S. You were not fasting then when you came here?

   M. I had only drunk a little Malmslie.

   T. And I a good draught of Muscatine, and eat a little bread.

   S. Bring the meat away, in God's name.

   R. The meat is not enough yet.

   S. Take away that empty pot, set some bread upon the table and put
   some salt in the salt cellar, and make roome for the second messe.

   R. Now, comes the roast.

   S. Welcome may with his flowers.

   T. And good speed may our barke have.

   S. The Jews do not look for their Messias with more devotion than I
   have looked for the roast meat.

   S. Set that capon upon the table, and those chickens, those rabbits,
   and that hen, that goose; those woodcock, those snipes, those larks,
   those quails, those partridges, those pheasants and that pasty of
   venison.

   R. Here is everything ready.

   N. You have led us to a wedding.

   S. I pray you, cut up that hen, I pray God it be tender.

   C. Alas, I think she was dam to the cock that crowed to St. Peter.

   S. I thought that so soon as I saw her.

   N. I beseech you, sir, will you carve some of that pheasant?

   M. They be offices that I love to do.

   N. I will one day fill my bellie full of them.

   S. Master Andrew, will it please you to eat an egg?

   A. With all my heart, sir, so be it new laid.

   S. As new as may be; laid this morning.

   A. I love new-laid eggs well.

   S. Sirra, go cause a couple of eggs to be made readie.

   R. By and by, will you have them hard or soft?

   A. It is no matter, I love them better raire.

   T. An egg of an hour, bread of a day, kidd of a month, wine of six,
   flesh of a year, fish of ten, a woman of fifteen, and a friend of a
   hundred, he must have that will be merrie.

   S. What aileth Master T. that he looks so sad?

   T. I am not very well at ease.

   S. What feel you, where grieves it you?

   T. I feel my stomach a little over-cloyde.

   N. Shall I teach you a good medicine?

   H. My mother, of happy memorie, was wont to tell me that a pill of
   wheat, of a hen the days work sweat, and some vine juice that were
   neat was best physick I could eat.

   M. Your mother was a woman worthy to govern a kingdom.

   S. My masters, you see here the period of this poor dinner; the best
   dish you have had hath been your welcome.

   H. As that hath fed our minds so have the others fed our bodies well.

   S. It grieves me that you have been put to such penance, but yet I
   hope you will excuse me.

   C. If doing such penance a man might win heaven, O sweet penance for
   a man to do every day."

Portions of the sixth chapter, with its talk of divers necessary
prophetic and proverbial precepts for a traveller, evidently supplied
Shakespeare with the hint for Scene iv. Act II. of the _First Part of
Henry IV._, between Falstaff and Prince Hal, wherein Falstaff personates
the prince's father.

   "S. Mister Peeler, whatsoever I shall tell you, according to my
   wonted manner, I will speak as plainly unto you as though you were my
   son, and therefore pardon me, if I shall seem eyther too familiar, or
   too homely with you.

   P. Say on boldly, for I shall be very proud if it please you to
   account me as your child, and that I may repute you as my father.

   S. First, my loving Mister Peeler, if you purpose to come unto the
   wished end of your travel, have always your mind and thought on God."

This highly moral preamble is followed by much ungodly, worldly wisdom.

   "S. And if you will be a traveller and wander safely through the
   world, wheresoever you come have always the eyes of a falcon that you
   may see far, the ears of an ass that you may hear well, the face of
   an ape that you may be ready to laugh, the mouth of a hog to eat all
   things, the shoulder of a camel that you may bear anything with
   patience, the legs of a stag that you may flee from dangers, and see
   that you never want two bags very full; that is, one of patience, for
   with it a man overcomes all things, and another of money, for,

     They that have good store of crownes,
     Are called lordes, though they be clownes;

   and gold hath the very same virtue that charity hath, it covereth a
   multitude of faults, and golden hammers break all locks, and golden
   meedes do reach all heights, have always your hand on your hat, and
   in your purse, for,

     A purse or cap used more or less a year
     Gain many friends, and do not cost thee dear.

   Travelling by the way in winter time, honour your companion, so shall
   you avoid falling into dangerous places. In summer go before, so
   shall not the dust come into your eyes. Setting at board, if there be
   but little bread, hold it fast in your hand, if small store of flesh,
   take hold on the bone, if no store of wine, drink often, and unless
   you be required, never offer any man either salt, etc."

The ninth chapter, wherein they "plausibly discourse of news of the
Court and of courtiers of this day, and of many other matters of
delight," is full of Falstaffian paradox, and reminiscent of Justice
Shallow's relations with Jane Nightwork.

   "C. What is become of your neighbour, I mean the old doating man
   grown twice a child?

   T. As old as you see him he has of late wedded a young wench of
   fifteen years old.

   C. Then he and she will make up the whole bible together; I mean the
   old and new testament.

   T. To an old cat a young mouse.

   C. Old flesh makes good broth.

   T. What has become of his son that I see him not?

   C. He was put in prison for having beaten an enemy of his.

   T. Be wrong or right prison is a spite.

   C. A man had need look to himself in this world.

   T. What is become of his fair daughter whom he married to what you
   call him that was sometime our neighbour?

   C. She spins crooked spindles for her husband and sends him into
   Cornwall without ship or boat.

   T. What, does she make him wear the stag's crest then?

   C. You have guessed right and have hit the nail on the head.

   T. His blood is of great force and virtue then.

   C. What virtue can his blood have, tell me in good faith?

   T. It is good to break diamonds withal.

   C. Why, man's blood cannot break diamonds.

   T. Yes, but the blood of a he-goat will.

   C. Moreover, he may challenge to have part in heaven by it.

   T. What matter is it for him then to be a he-goat, or a stumpbuck, or
   a kid, or a chamois, a stag, or a brill, a unicorn, or an elephant so
   he may be safe, but how may that be, I pray thee, tell me?

   C. I will tell thee, do not you know that whosoever is made a cuckold
   by his wife, either he knows it, or he knows it not.

   T. That I know, then what will you infer upon it?

   C. If he knows it he must needs be patient, and therefore a martyr,
   if he knows it not, he is innocent, and you know that martyrs and
   innocents shall be saved, which if you grant, it followeth that all
   cuckolds shall obtain paradise.

   T. Methinks then that women are not greatly to be blamed if they seek
   their husbands' eternal salvation, but are rather to be commended as
   causes of a noble and worthy effect."

He speaks with evident feeling of one who is imprisoned for debt.

   "T. Take heed of debts; temper thy desires, and moderate thy tongue.

   C. It is a devilish thing to owe money.

   T. For all that he is so proud that though he have need of patience
   he calleth for revenge.

   C. Could not he save himself out of the hands of those catchpoles,
   counter guardians, or sergeants?

   T. Seeking to save himself by flight from that rascality he had
   almost left the lining of his cap behind.

   C. I am sorry for his mischance, for with his jests, toys, fooleries,
   and pleasant conceits, he would have made Heraclitus himself to burst
   his heart with laughing.

   T. Did you ever go see him yet?

   C. I would not go into prison to fetch one of my eyes if I had left
   it there.

   T. Yet there be some honest men there.

   C. And where will you have them but in places of persecution?

   T. You have reason.

   C. I would not be painted there so much do I hate and loathe the
   place."

Speaking of the Court and courtiers he says:

   "C. The favours of the Court are like fair weather in winter, or
   clouds in summer, and Court, in former time, was counted death.

   T. It is still Court for the vicious, but death for the virtuous,
   learned and wise.