monstrate with him on a topic which an equal would scarcely have found himself at liberty to touch upon.

"It may, I think, be very justly remarked, Master Montchensey," rejoined Shakspeare, "that oftentimes many things are endured from an inferior which would not be tolerated in an equal; and more especially is this the case with spirits jealous and quick in resentment, though full of honourable bearing. It is well known, that my Lord Southampton, with a heart alive to every kind and generous feeling, possesses a constitutional warmth and irritability of temper, and an independency of spirit, which brook not the interference of one on his own level, and that what he would not submit to listen to from a Rutland or Montgomery, he would receive with kind and patient consideration from a favourite in humbler life. It is also equally well known that his love for literature, and especially for dramatic literature, is warm, and even enthusiastic and you compel me to add, that his partiality for myself, however little merited,

:

* Vide Malone's Shakspeare, apud Boswell, vol. xx. p. 219.

and his patronage of my efforts, however unworthy of such distinction in the eyes of others, have been, ever since my dedication to him of the Venus and Adonis, unparalleled, and, indeed, without bound. Will not all this, my good friend, prove a satisfactory solution of the difficulty which has startled you?”

"I allow it to be so, Master Shakspeare," answered his host, "but I have not done with your little volume yet; for, in the name of wonder, what are we to think of the last twentyeight sonnets? You have here dropped your noble patron to address one, who is, even on your own confession, the most worthless of womankind. Had I not been assured, from universal report, of the purity of your moral character, I freely confess to you, that I should have condemned these pieces as the production of an unblushing profligate!"

"Most sincerely do I wish, Master Montchensey," rejoined the poet, "that, since I find them open to such misconstruction, they had never seen the light! But you will believe me, I have no doubt, when I say, that these sonnets, though apparently written in my own per

son, are strictly ideal, and were intended solely to express, aloof from all individual application, the contrarieties, the inconsistencies, and the miseries of illicit love."

"It is impossible to know you, my friend, and to think otherwise," said Montchensey; "but as this personal knowledge is necessarily confined to a few, I cannot help wishing either that they had not been published, or that some intimation had been given of the nature of their origin."

"If I live, Master Montchensey, it shall be done," cried the bard. "Indeed," he continued, "had it not been for the urgent solicitations of a dear friend of mine, now no more, neither these sonnets, nor the greater part of those which precede them, had come forth; but he wrung from me a reluctant consent, and, having obtained the manuscript, immediately placed it in the hands of Thorpe, whence the edition now lying on your table." *

* Mr. Boswell having endeavoured, in the twentieth volume of "Malone's Shakspeare," p. 218. et seq., to set aside the hypothesis which I started in my "Shakspeare and his Times," of Lord Southampton being the object to which the poet addressed the great body of his Sonnets, an hypothesis which, as

Here all further conversation on this topic was interrupted by the arrival of visitors from a neighbouring seat; for as the hour of dinner, as we have already stated, was, with families of distinction at this period, seldom later than twelve o'clock, morning calls were, of course, proportionally early. Discussion, however, not only on this subject, but on many others connected with the poetry and dramatic literature of the age, was frequently resumed at Wyeburne Hall; for both Montchensey and his daughter delighted, above all things, to listen to their illustrious guest, whenever they could happily engage him on topics connected either with his own history or that of his fascinating art. Indeed, nothing could be more gratifying to Shakspeare than the manner in which he spent his time beneath this hospitable roof; for he had here a choice as well as extensive library, a country rich in romantic beauties, and

he says, 66 some of my readers have considered as established,"

I have, in this imaginary conversation, replied to his objections, and, if I do not, indeed, very materially deceive myself, placed their want of force and applicability in a satisfactory point of view.

the society of those who, anticipating the admiration of a distant age, thoroughly understood and valued his incomparable genius. Nor could he fail to be deeply interested in all that concerned the wayward fate and history of Hubert Gray, more particularly as he found them indissolubly connected with the peace and happiness of Helen Montchensey, for whom, owing to the sweetness of her disposition, and the singular brilliancy of her understanding, he entertained the most affectionate regard. The mystery, too, which seemed to hang over the life, and press upon the feelings, of Eustace Montchensey, and the amiable yet very extraordinary character of that fine old man, Simon Fraser, closely mingled, as they appeared to be, with the fortunes of the younger parties, had a considerable share in exciting and keeping up an anxious curiosity.

It may readily be conceived, therefore, that in accordance with his promise to Montchensey, he lost little time in commencing some enquiry which might, he thought, lead to a detection of the present circumstances and occupation of Hubert Gray, trusting that through a know