humble as it may be, hath not been altogether unprofitable. This I have been the more induced to look for from the generous encouragement afforded to "Shakspeare and his Friends" by such critics and scholarly persons who have taken it in hand, who both publicly and privately have bestowed on it their commendation with such exceeding bounteousness as I had not dared to expect. That the praise so generally given applied much more to the subject than its treatment I cannot help but believe; but let that be as it may, I will ever seek what means I have at my disposal, to prove how earnestly I strive for the desert in which it ought to have originated. Doubtless, it would be but fitting of me here, to make some apology for publishing these works out of their proper order, as the present should have preceded its predecessor; but methinks I cannot do better than leave the fault to be dealt with by the reader as he shall think fittest--hoping it may not be found a matter of such heinousness as to deprive the offender of some excusing, particularly as each is a distinct work, complete in itself. If there exist no other objection, I doubt not, despite their irregular starting, they will now run their race together as fairly and as gallantly withal, as can be expected of them. There hath been some stir lately made concerning of the orthography of the ever-honoured name of our "Sweet Swan of Avon." On that point it is only necessary here to say that it was customary with divers notable persons of the age of Elizabeth, to write their names in more than one form, just as it took their fantasy, proof of which will be discovered in the letters of the time, wherein Raleigh sometimes signeth himself "Rawley" Lord Burleigh hath some three or four ways of spelling his name, and others do the like sort of thing; therefore, to find a variation in the autographs of the illus trious Shakspeare is in no manner strange. The orthography here adhered to, hath the recommendation of being that which the great Bard employed in the latter period of his life, when it is supposed he must have settled it to his liking; is moreover the same that was used by the choicest of his friends, who doubtless, had the best means of knowing his humour in it, and hath been made familiar to us, in consequence of its adoption by the most learned of his editors, critics, and scholars in this, and in all other countries, who, so it is presumed, ought to be the properest guides to follow in such a matter. Here beginneth the Story of THE YOUTH OF SHAKSPEARE. CHAPTER I. All was this Land ful filled of Faerie, CHAUCER. The vallies rang with their delicious strains, CHALKHILL. What if my lordinge doo chaunce for to miss me, OH! what a beauteous night was that time honoured, twenty-third of April, in the year of our Lord one thousand five hundred and sixty-four! The air was clear as any chrystal, and the wind just shaking the fragrance from the young blossoms, as it swept along to make music in the fresh leaves of the tall trees, did create such harmony and sweetness therein, that nothing could have appeared so delectable, save the star-bestudded sky above, wherein the lady moon was seen to glide VOL. I. B with so silvery a brightness, that the sapphire heavens, the flowery earth, and the sparkling water, were apparelled in one mantle of the delicatest light. Peradventure so fair a night hath never been seen before or since; yet, of such bountiful beauty as it was throughout, there was one spot wherein its exquisite rare attractions were heaped together with so prodigal a hand, that the place, for the exceeding pleasantness of its aspect, must have been like unto that famous garden of Paradise, that held our first parents in their primitive innocency and happiness. It was a low meadow field, marked by sundry declivities and inequalities, whereon a goodly shew of all manner of spring flowers were sleeping in the moonlight, even to the very waves of that right famous river the Avon, which was flowing along in all its refreshing loveliness, at its margin. Trees were here and there of divers kinds, garmented in their newest livery of green-a row of alders-a clump of beeches-a solitary oak-a shady coppice were stretching far and wide in one direction; and hedges of hawthorn and elder, interspersed with crab, wild-plum, and towering elms, would intersect the country in others. Close at hand was the town of Stratford, with the tall spire of the church, and the quaint eaves of the houses distinctly visible. Here stood the mansion of one of its persons of worship. There the more modest dwelling of an industrious yeoman. At one place was the cottage of the sturdy labourer; in another the tenement of the honest miller, whilst, as the eye stretched out to the distance, other buildings might be faintly seen, which doubtless marked the situations of the neighbouring villages. But, although signs of habitation were thus plentiful, of man or woman not one was there in sight; for this especial reason, all manner of honest folk had laid them down to sleep long since. Little could be seen of live things, excepting perchance a water-rat swimming upon the Avon, or, mayhap, a fold of sheep on the adjoining farm; or heard, save the tinkle of the sheep bells, or the bark of the shepherd's dog, occasionally responded to by some dog afar off; or the rushing of the water at the mill wheel, or the croaking of the frogs among the rushes, or the hooting of an owl as she passed by, intent on a mousing expedition to the nearest barn; and these sounds made as excellent sweet music as ever poet did delight to hear. Certes this was just such a scene, and these the very properest accompaniments for awakening in the heart that profound sympathy with nature which the few, to whom such feeling is familiar, give expression to, in sentiments that partake of the same beauty and immortality as the source whence they spring. All at once a new and unfamiliar sound came floating upon the air. It was faint and indistinct-a mere murmur, yet |