LENOX LIBRARY

NEW YORK

PRINTED BY W. WILCOCKSON, ROPES BUILDINGS FETTER LANE

THE YOUTH OF SHAKSPEARE.

CHAPTER I.

O fortune, now my wounds redress,
And help me from my smart,
It cometh well of gentleness,
To ease a mourning hearte.

OLD SONG.

Away with these self-loving lads,
Whom Cupid's arrow never glads!
Away poor souls that sigh and weep
In love of those that lie asleep!
For Cupid is a merry god,

And forceth none to kiss the rod.

LORD BROOKE.

These strange and sudden injuries have fallen

So thick upon me, that I lose all sense

Of what they are. Methinks I am not wronged;
Nor is it aught, if from the censuring world

I can but hide it. Reputation!

Thou art a word, no more.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

ON recovering consciousness, the youthful Shakspeare found himself lying stretched on the grass, with a confused sense of pain and sickness, which prevented him from forming any distinct idea of where he was. He could just discern divers black masses of sundry shapes, moving around and about him, whilst above, myriads of stars were twinkling

VOL. II.

B