"Men nudge each other-thus—and say, 'This certainly is Shakespeare's son,' And merry wags (of course in play)

Cry Author,' when the piece is done.

"In church the people stare at me, Their soul the sermon never binds;

I catch them looking round to see,

And thoughts of Shakespeare fill their minds.

"And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile,
Who find it difficult to crown

A bust with Brown's insipid smile
Or Tomkins's unmannered frown,

"Yet boldly make my face their own, When (oh, presumption!) they require

To animate a paving-stone

With Shakespeare's intellectual fire.

"At parties where young ladies gaze,
And I attempt to speak my joy,
'Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says,
'The fond illusion don't destroy!'

"Whene'er I speak, my soul is wrung

With these or some such whisperings: "Tis pity that a Shakespeare's tongue

Should say such un-Shakespearean things!

"I should not thus be criticised

Had I a face of common wont:
Don't envy me-now, be advised!"
And, now I think of it, I don't!

Reprinted from Fun, 14 Nov. 1868.

"Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares."

"In the county of Gloster, justice of the peace, and coram.” Merry Wives of Windsor, 1. i.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, 1872

(1809-1894)

I WONDER if anything like this ever happened:

Author writing,

"To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobl—”

"William, shall we have pudding to-day, or flapjacks?" Flapjacks an it please thee, Anne, or a pudding for that matter; or what thou wilt, good woman, so thou come not betwixt me and my thought."

Exit Mistress Anne, with strongly accented closing of the door, and murmurs to the effect: "Ay, marry, 'tis well for thee to talk as if thou hadst no stomach to fill. We poor wives must swink for our masters, while they sit in their arm-chairs, growing as great in the girth through laziness as that ill-mannered old fat man, William, hath writ of in his books of players' stuff. One had as well meddle with a porkpen, which hath thorns all over him, as try to deal with William when his eyes be rolling in that mad way."

William-writing once more-after an exclamation in strong English of the older pattern,—

"Whether 'tis nobler-nobler-nobler

To do what? O these women! these women! to have puddings or flapjacks! Oh!

"Whether 'tis nobler-in the mind-to suffer

The slings-and arrows-of

Oh! Oh! these women! I'll e'en step over to the parson's, and have a cup of sack with his reverence, for methinks Master Hamlet hath forgot that which was just now on his lips to speak."

The Poet at the Breakfast-Table, 1872, pp. 10-11.

THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON, 1897

"Shakespeare's Friend speaks."

To sing the nation's song, or do the deed
That crowns with richer light the motherland,
Or lend her strength of arm in hour of need,
When fangs of foes shine fierce on every hand,
Is joy to him whose joy is working well-
Is goal and guerdon too, though never fame
Should find a thrill of music in his name;

Yea, goal and guerdon too, though Scorn should aim
Her arrows at his soul's high citadel.

But if the fates withhold the joy from me
To do the deed that widens England's day,
Or join that song of Freedom's jubilee
Begun when England started on her way—
Withhold from me the hero's glorious power
To strike with song or sword for her, the mother,
And give that sacred guerdon to another,

Him will I hail as my more noble brother-
Him will I love for his diviner dower.

Enough for me who have our Shakespeare's love
To see a poet win the poet's goal,

For Will is he; enough and far above

All other prizes to make rich my soul.

"Christmas at the Mermaid." The Coming of Love, and Other Poems, 1898 [1897].