THE YOUTH OF SHAKSPEARE. CHAPTER I. Example I fynde of Alesaundr Nexam as he wryteth, how there was sumtyme a knyght came from ferr cuntries wolde seek aventures. So it fortuned to a forrest wher he herd a grete noyce of a beste crying. HARLEIAN MSS. No. 2247. Be not deceived, my brother; The misery of us that are born great. FORD. We are forced to woo, because none dare woo us; And fearfully equivocates, so we Are forced to express our violent passions In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path WEBSTER. “I FEAR me I cannot proceed further," said the younger of the two travelers, leaning against a tree, with head drooping, and every sign in him of thorough exhaustion and faintness. "I beseech you, good Bertram, lean on me! exclaimed William Shakspeare, urgently. "Let us get out of this wood as speedily as we may, for the sun bath set sometime, and we are like to get benighted in this strange place, stay we where we are much longer." "I doubt my strength will hold sufficient, yet I will strive my utmost," replied his young companion, in a very feeble voice. Thereupon he leaned his head upon the other's shoulder, whilst the latter held him round the waist with his left arm, and thus they proceeded, at a slow pace, following a path which led through a thick wood on each side of them. The trees, principally hazel, were in their freshest leaves, save some that were only a budding, and those of the wild plum and cherry were clothed in all their delicate bloom. The roots of the larger trees were wrapt in a soft covering of dainty green moss, through which the lance-shaped leaves of the lily of the valley made their appearance in countless numbers seemingly as far as the eye could seemingled with a very prodigal display, not only of all manner of seasonable flowers of divers colors, but with numberless plants and herbs, some savory and others noxious, that thrust themselves out of every corner. Nothing was visible around but trees and underwood such as hath been described, save here and there, when they came to an open place where the wood had been thinned; and then they beheld some once goodly tree recently felled, stripped of its branches, barked, and lying on the ground a shapeless, naked trunk; and in other places were small logs for burning, piled up in heaps, with great store of hurdles, bavins, faggots, and other things belonging to the woodinan's craft. It was evident the men had left work-the whole place was so still—not a sound heard the young travelers when they cease talking, but the monotonous note of the cuckoo. The path was not in any way a pleasant one, for it was in a hard, rough soil, with deep ruts on each side, formed by the passage of heavy carts when the ground was in a softer state, and led now up and now down-crossed occasionally by other paths of a like appearance, with some narrower and less worn, which appeared to be only for foot passengers, with room for but one at a time. Yet along this unpleasant way the two pursued their journey in the manner already mentioned; the more youthful one manifestly sinking at every step, despite of the other's tender charge of him, and encouraging speech to help him along. Truly, it was a sight well worthy to be looked on, these gentle persons traveling in so friendly a way, the handsome manly face of William Shakspeare beaming with a sweet benevolence, as with all the tender sympathy of his nature, he gazed upon the upturned pallid countenance of his more youthful associate; but although the latter strove, as forcibly as he could, to get along, it was easy to see, by the languid style in which he drew one leg after the other, and the quick paling of his lips, that he could continue even this sort of progress but a very little longer. "Cheer thee, sweet sir!" exclaimed the elder of the two, in the kindest accents, "thou wilt be better anon. Put thy foot forward gallantly, we shall be out of this wood straight, and get us to a village where we can have fair lodging for the night." "Alack! I feel sinking rapidly," replied the other, evidently in extreme faintness. "Bear me up strongly, I pray you the ground seemeth to be falling." "Prithee heed it not at all-'tis mere fantasy," said William Shakspeare, holding him as affectionately as a brother. 66 Courage, my young master, our journey will be at an end speedily-so we shall have brave resting, continue we to proceed. Woe is me, he hath swooned!" The speaker stopped in great anxiety and pitifulness, for he had noted the arm of his companion drop listlessly off his shoulder, and the head fall so droopingly, the youth must have gone to the ground had it not been for the care of his tender guardian. The first thought of the latter was to carry his now helpless fellow-traveler -as no time was to be lost in getting out of the wood before nightfall-and the next minute the young poet was proceeding, gallantly bearing the other in his arms, with all proper gentleness, till at last he was obliged to put him down to rest himself. His anxiety of mind may be imagined when he beheld by the dim twilight, the countenance of his young companion set, as it were, in the pale complexion of death, with his limbs motionless, and his eyes closed. So sad a sight smote him to the very heart. What to do he |