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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 *
 
 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES 
 
 IN 
 
 BACONIAN LIGHT 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT M . r H h: O B A L D, iM . A . 
 
 (Author of " Detlironing Shakespeare" : former Editor of 
 " The Bacon journal "). 
 
 
 .9 • •• » 
 
 
 SAN J-K.\.\(;i.s(() : 
 JOHN HOWKLL, 4;,4. Post Strkkt.
 
 PKtNTF.D nv 
 
 THf. MARSHALL Pk^:SS, LTD., 
 LONDON, \V.C.2. 
 
 
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 5? 
 
 T3fs 
 
 .^ 
 
 Obcroii. — Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet Queen ! 
 
 (J Titania. — My Oberon ! what visions have I seen ! 
 Methought I was enamoured of an ass. 
 
 Oberon. — There lies your love ! 
 
 Titania. How came these things to pass ? 
 
 O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now. 
 
 Obci on. — Silence awhile ! Robin, take off this head. 
 r^ ' M. N. D. 
 
 ^ Are you native of this place ? Your accent is something finer 
 than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 What a thrice-double ass 
 
 Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, 
 
 And worship this dull fool ! 
 
 Tempest. 
 
 Ass ! I'll take that burden from your back. 
 
 King'J^oJin. 
 
 rl\A 
 
 o 
 
 1978')9
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface . . . . . . . . . ix. 
 
 Chap. I. — Preliminaries . . . . . . i 
 
 Chap. II. — Presumptive Evidence . . . lo 
 
 Section i. Shakspere's Personal History . . .10 
 
 2. Greene's Groatsworth of Wit . . 13 
 
 3. Probabilities . . . . .16 
 
 4. The Lawyer . . . . .18 
 
 5. The Aristocrat . . . . .20 
 
 6. The Classical Scholar .... 24 
 
 7. Various Accomplishments . . -24 
 
 8. Shakspere Biography . . . 26 
 
 Chap. III. — Francis Bacon . . . . . .32 
 
 Section i. The Scholar and Man of the World . . 32 
 
 2. The Poet . . . . . -34 
 
 3. Bacon's Concealments • • • 35 
 
 4. Bacon's Literary Output . . . -3^ 
 
 5. Bacon's Assurance of Immortality . . 40 
 
 6. Personal Characteristics , . . -43 
 
 » 
 » 
 >» 
 it 
 It 
 
 (i) Striking the Breast ... 43 
 
 (2) Bacon's Fall . . . -45 
 
 (3) Bacon's Self -vindication . . 47 
 
 (4) Bacon's Dramatic Faculty . . 48 
 
 (5) Bacon's Verdict against Himself . 49 
 
 Chap. IV.— I Cannot Tell . . . . . 54 
 
 Chap. V. — Companionship in Calamity . . .64 
 
 Chap. VI.— The Philosophy of Wonder. . . .80 
 
 Chap. VII. — Bacon's Philosophy of Hope . . . 95
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Chap. VII I. —B 
 
 icon's 
 
 " Sai 
 
 tor Resartus" 
 
 . 109 
 
 Section i. 
 
 Garment ot Folly 
 
 113 
 
 n -• 
 
 
 » 
 
 State and Pride 
 
 • 113 
 
 3- 
 
 
 It 
 
 Sobriety or Sadness 
 
 114 
 
 4- 
 
 
 » 
 
 Mirth ' 
 
 . 114 
 
 » 5- 
 
 
 )> 
 
 Humility 
 
 115 
 
 6. 
 
 
 >> 
 
 Virtue 
 
 . 115 
 
 7- 
 
 
 » 
 
 Content 
 
 116 
 
 8. 
 
 
 >) 
 
 Sanctity 
 
 . 117 
 
 9- 
 
 
 !' 
 
 Love 
 
 117 
 
 „ lO. 
 
 
 }} 
 
 Strangeness . 
 
 . 117 
 
 Chap. IX. — Love and Business : liacon's Essay of Love com- 
 pared with the Treatment of Love in Shake- 
 speare ...... 
 
 The Problem .... 
 
 Mistaken View of the Essay . 
 
 The Essay of Love : Its Real Import . 
 
 Bacon's Praise of the Worthiest Affection . 
 
 Restricted Use of Love in Shakespeare . 
 
 Love in the Historical Plays . 
 
 Love in the Tragedies 
 
 Love in the Comedies 
 
 Love always Subordinate in Shakespeare 
 
 Love in the Minor Poems 
 
 Love Lyrics . . . . 
 
 Conclusions ..... 
 
 The yEthiope . . . . 
 
 Love Engendered in the Eye 
 
 Folly and Love Connected General!}- . 
 
 Chap. X. — Pliilosophical Maxims .... 
 
 Section i. Mines and Forges 
 
 Section 
 
 I. 
 
 n 
 
 2. 
 
 }> 
 
 .1- 
 
 J) 
 
 4- 
 
 n 
 
 3- 
 
 7) 
 
 6. 
 
 y} 
 
 7- 
 
 }} 
 
 8. 
 
 a 
 
 9- 
 
 l> 
 
 10. 
 
 }} 
 
 II. 
 
 »> 
 
 12. 
 
 M 
 
 13- 
 
 )> 
 
 14. 
 
 M 
 
 15- 
 
 
 2. 
 
 Miracles and Misery 
 
 
 3- 
 
 Sunshine Everywhere 
 
 
 4- 
 
 The Genesis of Poetr> 
 
 
 5- 
 
 Money and Muck . 
 
 
 6. 
 
 Pilst and Future 
 
 
 7- 
 
 8. 
 
 Impossibilities 
 Piiysiognomy. 
 
 
 9- 
 
 Sleep 
 
 126 
 
 127 
 
 127 
 129 
 
 130 
 
 131 
 
 133 
 136 
 
 143 
 
 154 
 
 156 
 
 157 
 159 
 
 160 
 
 161 
 163 
 
 167 
 167 
 
 171 
 
 174 
 178 
 179 
 180 
 182 
 184 
 
 185
 
 CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 PAGE 
 Section lo. Nature and Art .... 187 
 
 ,, ri. Nature and Fortune . . . .188 
 
 „ 12. Primum Mobile .... 191 
 
 ,, 13. Philosophia Prima .... 194 
 
 ,, 14. Conclusion ..... 197 
 
 Chap. XI. — The Promus ...... 199 
 
 The Procus ..... 208 
 Hail of Pearl . . . . .212 
 
 Ulysses. . . . . .213 
 
 Voluntary Forgetting . . . .216 
 
 Like One's Self. .... 218 
 
 Chap. XII. — -Echoes and Correspondencies . . . 223 
 
 Chap. XIII. — The Scholarship of Shakespeare . . 286 
 
 Section i. Classic Allusions ..... 294 
 „ 2. The Classical Plays .... 308 
 
 „ 3. Grammatical Forms .... 309 
 
 Chap. XIV. — The Classic Diction of Shakespeare . .318 
 
 Appendix ox Marlowe ...... 415 
 
 IxDKX I. — Shakespeare Quotations .... 489 
 „ II. — ^Classical Words in Chap. xiv. .... 492 
 ,, III.- — General : Topics and Names . . . 497 
 
 Section 
 
 I. 
 
 j> 
 
 2. 
 
 )i 
 
 0- 
 
 >> 
 
 4- 
 
 >} 
 
 5*
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In the world's literature the greatest name is Shakespeare. 
 Equally true is the assertion that in the world's literature 
 there is no greater name than Bacon. Shakespeare and 
 Bacon, if they are to be distinguished, were contem- 
 poraries ; the apparatus of scholarship, books, colleges, 
 teachers, and all the accumulations of literary creation, 
 which they used, were the same for both. If they stood on an 
 equal literary level they must have cHmbed the heights by the 
 same paths, and at much the same time, and one would think 
 they must have elbowed one another during the ascent. And 
 yet neither of them refers to the other, even by the most 
 covert allusion. Still the identical culture must assert itself 
 whether it is acknowledged or not, and accordingly we 
 find that the two groups of writings perpetually touch one 
 another, and each may supply the other with innumerable 
 lights of interpretation. Notwithstanding these cross lights 
 of mutual reflection, the separate students of each seem 
 resolved to keep them apart. In the elucidation of Bacon's 
 philosophy Shakespeare is neglected, in the interpretation of 
 Shakespeare's poetry Bacon is neglected. If any comparison 
 is made between them it is usually one rather of grammatical 
 form and structure, than of interior soul and substance. 
 At the same time it is a commonplace in Bacon biography 
 to bracket the two names together as representing literary 
 production equal in value, and similar in quality : though 
 as a rule this approximation is expressed in general terms, 
 while particular applications are rarely supplied. One of
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 the reasons for this, with the more recent critics and 
 biographers, is a most tremulous timidity arising out of an 
 apprehension of being compromised by association with 
 that most obnoxious group of quasi-hterary persons who 
 advocate the personal identit}' of Bacon and Shakespeare. 
 If some singular resemblance in thought or expression is 
 pointed out, the critic hastens to separate himself from 
 those who see more in this than a casual and quite acci- 
 dental resemblance. " Do not suppose," the critic eagerly 
 explains, "that I assert that Bacon wrote Shakespeare, 
 because I point out these identities in style or idea : ' — the 
 imputation is too terrible, and the critic protests his 
 orthodox}' by most severe comments on the mental — 
 almost moral — unsoundness that can arrive at such a 
 distressing conclusion. 
 
 I am persuaded that Shakespearean comment and anno- 
 tation has suffered severely from this resolute determination 
 to keep the two groups of writings apart; and one design of 
 this volume is to protest against this neglect of Baconian 
 light on Shakespeare, and to show, by signal examples, 
 what a rich field of illustration and interpretation is thus 
 ignored. Let these great poems, we say, be brought into 
 relationship with all Elizabethan literature which can 
 supply helpful elucidation. We ask for no exceptional 
 favour for Bacon's writings — we only ask that they should 
 take the place that rightfully belongs to them. If the 
 result is that our theory forces itself forward either as a 
 corollary lawfully deduced from these comments, or as a 
 hypothesis that may be used to account for them — let it be 
 so ; that is only fair play and no favour. 
 
 But oh, most gentle and gentlemanly critics, do be 
 patient and tolerant about it ; — be not so indelicately 
 angry ! Cease your clamours and asperities, and denuncia- 
 tions and vituperations, and let us talk over the matter 
 gravely and calmly, without vulgar abuse or heated 
 imputations ! Perfervid disputation always has a flavour 
 not only of extravagance but of insincerity, and we
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 Baconians find it extremely difficult to persuade ourselves 
 that you yourselves believe all the hard things you say 
 about us. You call us half-educated Philistines, crazy 
 Baconizers, ignorant cranks, or mad moon-rakers, though 
 you must know that we number in our ranks men as 
 sound in judgment and as well equipped in learning as 
 yourselves. It is high time that all this nonsense should 
 stop. Such missiles do not hurt us, they would amuse us 
 if their exhibition of bad temper were not saddening and 
 discreditable. Our case is a very intelligible and a very 
 lawful one. Our argument holds the field, and it has come 
 to stay. We are quite content to abide the issue of sound 
 reason and exhaustive research, and we decline to retaliate 
 by the use of the weapons which are so freely employed 
 against us. For no Baconian, so far as I know, seeks 
 to help his cause by personal abuse or intolerant 
 and wrathful speech. All this — as is usually the case in 
 analogous instances — is the monopoly of the conservators, 
 and is no part of the armoury of the innovators. Nothing 
 can banish our thesis except demonstrative proof on a very 
 large scale that some other explanation of the genesis of 
 Shakespeare is more credible and better supported by facts 
 than ours. 
 
 The reader of the following pages should carefully keep 
 in mind the distinction that is invariably observed between 
 Shakspcre and Shakespeare. The word Shakspere always 
 means Mr. William Shakspere, of Stratford-on-Avon. 
 The word Shakespeare always means either the writer of 
 the plays and poems which are known by this patronymic, 
 or else the poetry itself, apart from any question of author- 
 ship. And when I speak of Shakespeare as an author, or 
 of the collected writings under this title, I do so " without 
 prejudice." By using current phraseology I make no 
 concession to current notions attached to it. It is 
 necessary to premise this because many Baconians think 
 that by speaking of "Shakespeare" as an author we give 
 away our case and use language that misrepresents our
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 thoughts. I do not think so. My impression is that when 
 the time comes for a general recognition of Bacon as the 
 true Shakespeare, the poetry will still be called "Shake- 
 speare," and that no one will find anything compromising in 
 such language, any more than we do when we refer to George 
 Eliot or Georges Sand, meaning Miss Evans or Madame 
 Dudevant. In using Bacon's nom de plume we are but 
 accepting his own leading, while we reserve an interpreta- 
 tion which he did not himself supply, but left to posterity 
 to discover. Indeed, the word Shaksperc itself, so spelt, is 
 quite arbitrary. It might be Shaxpur, or Shagspur, or 
 any of the few score spellings which were current in 
 Warwickshire in the i6th century. Among these our 
 particular William seems to have made no election ; for no 
 one can find for the name any standard spelling in any of 
 his varied and almost indecipherable signatures. 
 
 One more claim I make, namely, that the Baconian 
 theory should not be confounded with any of the specula- 
 tions that are often associated with it — cipher speculations 
 especially. While I may say that my own attitude 
 towards them is chiefly sceptical, yet I decline to embarrass 
 the main argument by these collateral and somewhat 
 irritating discussions. 
 
 R. M. Theobald. 
 
 Blackheath, S.E., 
 
 September, 1901.
 
 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN 
 BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 PRELIMINARIES 
 
 It is quite possible for whole generations of thoughtful 
 men, and of educated, experienced critics, to entertain a 
 belief which is absolutely unsound and absurd, without 
 being conscious that that belief is open to debate at all. 
 Tradition floats and supports countless errors. But it is 
 also possible that the debateable qualit}' of the false belief 
 may flash upon anyone's convictions instantaneously, and 
 then for ever after it ceases to occupy any settled resting 
 place in his mind. For example, the idea that William 
 Shakspere wrote the plays and poems attributed to him 
 was for me not so much a persuasion as a settled tradition, 
 never interfered with, till one day, visiting a friend, and 
 looking over his excellent and well-selected library, I took 
 up Gerald Massey's book on Shakespeare's Sonnets, and 
 asked my friend if he had formed any opinion about it. 
 His reply was to this effect : " Doubtless the book is good 
 enough in its way; but if you want to get clear light as to 
 the genesis of Shakespeare's poetr}^ you should read this;" 
 and he put into my hands Nathaniel Holmes's book on 
 
 B
 
 2 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 "The Authorship of Shakespeare." As soon as the book 
 was in my hand, the persuasion took hold of my mind that 
 this question of the authorship of Shakespeare was one 
 open to debate, and that Holmes's conclusion was probably 
 right. My conversion was of the most orthodox and 
 instantaneous character, and the belief then adopted has 
 never been disturbed. But although the central truth 
 came suddenly, the reasons and arguments to support it 
 could not thus immediately enter into the mind. That 
 moment was the starting point of a long course of study. 
 I read all I could get hold of by Bacon, and re-read 
 Shakespeare, and kept the two in perpetual juxtaposition 
 for years, until the persuasion which came by a flash of 
 intuition ripened into a strong and well-grounded convic- 
 tion, resting on facts and arguments, solid and secure as 
 mathematical demonstration. 
 
 Now I do not expect many persons to change their 
 traditional belief in this rapid fashion ; but I do think 
 that it does not require much study or painful reflection to 
 see that the question itself is quite a lawful one, not to be 
 settled by a snap-finger dismissal of derision The literary 
 robe of the man, William Shakspere, is evidently a misfit ; 
 the garment is too big and costly for his small and insignifi- 
 cant personality. But so securely has the name of William 
 Shakespere fastened itself on the grandest creations of all 
 literature, that even those (perhaps especially those) who 
 have devoted themselves to Shakesperean studies all their 
 life, have failed to see that the previous question of author- 
 ship has to be admitted as one element in their studies. 
 One eminent Shakesperean writing to an equally eminent 
 
 Baconian says, " We traverse your premises, Mr. S ; 
 
 there is no doubt, and therefore there is no necessity for 
 enquiry." For him then the problem is non-existent, but 
 the unabashed dogmatism of such a settlement is rather 
 surprising. Another distinguished Shakespearean student 
 and author wrote to me as follows : " In the Bacon- 
 Shakespeare controversy I take no interest whatever. To
 
 OUR GENTLE CRITICS. 3 
 
 establish the Baconian authorship of Shak=pere's works, 
 two things have to be proved : first that Shakespeare did 
 not write the plays and poems attributed to him, and 
 secondly that Francis Bacon did. As I have never yet 
 seen a prima facie case made out for the former of these 
 propositions, I have no inclination to consider seriously 
 the so-called arguments by which it is attempted to prove 
 the latter." This is perfectly fair language, and with such 
 convictions there is no reason why any attention should be 
 given to the opposing thesis. I cannot, however, refrain 
 from expressing my astonishment that any competent 
 Shakespearean scholar should fail to perceive the enormous 
 difficulty of accounting for the possession of Shakespearean 
 attributes by such a man as William Shakspere must have 
 been. 
 
 Other critics are not so civil. Indeed, a discreditable 
 habit has arisen of reviling and insulting those who advo- 
 cate the Baconian authorship of Shakespeare. Measureless 
 and supercilious contempt, with much affusion of vmsa- 
 voury epithets is meted out to us by these gentlemen. 
 We are ignorant, or cracked, or joking or paradoxical, — 
 we are idiotic, characteristic-blind as certain persons are 
 colour-blind, and "the tomfoolery of it is infinite.'' That 
 is pretty fair for one " gentleman : " and he is the leader of 
 the clan. Another member of this Hooligan type of 
 critics writes thus to a friend in America, for publication 
 in an American journal : — " Not a single adherent of any 
 weight has joined the Baconian party here. A few persons 
 who believe that we are the ten tribes, and that Arthur 
 Orton was Sir Roger Tichborne, and that Tennyson's 
 sister was the author of ' In Memoriam,' — people for whom 
 evidence does not exist, and who love paradox for its own 
 sake,— form the whole Baconian schism over here." This 
 sweetly reasonable and gentle writer does not seem to 
 concern himself with the truth or falsehood of these reck- 
 less assertions. 
 
 He gives the bastinado with his tongue ; 
 
 Our ears are cudgellcfl.
 
 4 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Other critics, again, adopt a tone of weariness, a 'don't 
 bother ' sort of air ; they arc fatigued with these stupidities, 
 they are so busy counting the weak and strong endings, 
 the run-on hues, the central pauses, the rhymed couplets, 
 the unstopped lines, and so forth, that they have no 
 reserve of mental activity for our case. They can go into 
 paroxysms of rapture over some hoax of a portrait, or some 
 trumpery ring or wooden stool, which can by any process 
 of straining evidence or torturing facts be associated with 
 their fetish; but when the problem to be discussed is, the 
 relation between "Shakespeare " and the greatest intellect 
 that ever illuminated literature, himself a contemporary, 
 living within an easy walk of the assumed author, likely to 
 know all persons and all books worth knowing in his own 
 country and time. — when this is the problem, our critics 
 begin to yawn, and beg to be excused from taking interest 
 in these unprofitable discussions. It really seems as if the 
 sweet swan of Avon had by some Circcean witchcraft 
 transformed his followers into geese. 
 
 Dr. Hudson, one of the most capable of Shakespearean 
 critics and biographers, dismisses the Baconian theory in 
 the following summarj^ style : — 
 
 "Upon this point I have just four things to say, — 
 
 1. Bacon's requital of the Earl's bounty [the Earl of 
 Essex] was such a piece of ingratitude as I can hardly 
 conceive the author of King Lear to have been guilt)^ of. 
 
 2. The author of Shakespeare's plays, whatever he may 
 have been, certainly was not a scholar. He had indeed 
 something vastly better than learning, but he had not that. 
 
 3. Shakespeare never philosophises. Bacon never does 
 anything else. 4. Bacon's mind, great as it was, might 
 have been cut out of Shakespeare's, without being 
 missed" ("Shakespere : His Life, Art, and Character" by 
 Rev. N. H. Hudson, LL.D., Vol. I. 269). 
 
 This is not serious argument, and it would be simply a 
 waste of time and words to discuss it. All these "four
 
 THE APOTHEOSIS OF PARADOX. 5 
 
 things " are either extremely debateable, or infinitely 
 doubtful, or plainly inaccurate, or vaguely indefinite. 
 
 Other critics seem to take a frisky delight in claiming for 
 William Shakespere exactly what no one has ever found or 
 can find in him, while others deny to the poet accomplish- 
 ments which he Unquestionably possessed. Thus, one 
 adventurous advocate of the Stratford claimant says : 
 "Every careful student or critic is inevitably forced to the 
 conclusion that the works must have been written either by 
 Shakespera or by some'man whose education and experi- 
 ence were likg,Ulis. His life is a key to much that would 
 otherwise be perplexing in his writings ; " which is exactly 
 the conclusion that no careful student or critic can possibly 
 adopt, and which even good Shakespearean scholars, such 
 as Charles Knight and Grant White, are forced to abandon. 
 These extraordinary assertions are made by a writer who 
 probably knows that the profoundest and most philosophi- 
 cal Shakespearean critic who ever lived, Coleridge, in view 
 of these same facts, is absolutely non-plussed by the 
 anomalies suggested by what is known of William Shak- 
 spere, and what we know must have been the character of 
 the true author. "What," he exclaims, "are we to have 
 miracles in Sport ? Does God choose idiots by whom to 
 convey divine truths to man ? " While Emerson cannot 
 marry the facts of Shakespeare's life to the verse ; and 
 Hallam, nauseated by the unsavoury gossip and unclean 
 rumours associated with Shakspere's name, despairing, yet 
 with noble rage, calls for the Shakspeare that heaven 
 made — not the one that earth supplies. 
 
 I do not name these writers because I desire to avoid 
 personal attack. 
 
 And, after all, what have these critics to show in support 
 of their singular contention that Shakespeare's poems are 
 illuminated and illustrated by Shakspere's life? Absolutely 
 nothing ! There is not a single passage in the poetry that 
 becomes more interesting or more clear by reference to 
 anything known about the Stratford playwright. Pro-
 
 6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 fessor Dowden has written a thoughtful and suggestive 
 book on the "Mind and Art of Shakspere," showing the 
 noble personal qualities that are dimly reflected in the 
 plays. All he says is beautiful and interesting so long as 
 William Shakspere is kept at a distance — so long as we 
 follow Ben Jonson's sly suggestion and "look not on his 
 picture, but his book." But as soon as the Warwickshire 
 rustic is admitted, the dignity and vraiscviblance of the 
 argument vanishes — the whole matter becomes, in 
 Baconian language, "preposterous," grotesque, topsy- 
 turvy. For instance, here is an eloquent and weighty 
 passage — which it is a pleasure to transcribe: — "If 
 Shakspere had died at the age of 40, it might have 
 been said, ' the world has lost much, but the world's chief 
 poet could not have created anything more wonderful than 
 Hamlet.'' But after Hamlet came King Lear. Hamlet was 
 in fact only the point of departure in Shakspere's immense 
 and final sweep of mind — that in which he endeavoured to 
 include and comprehend life for the first time adequately. 
 Through Hamlet, perhaps also through events in the poet's 
 personal history, which tested his will as Hamlet's was 
 tested, Shakespere had been reached and touched by the 
 shadow of some of the deep mysteries of human existence. 
 Somehow a relation between his soul and the dark and 
 terrible forces of the world was established, and to escape 
 from a thorough mvestigation and sounding of the depths 
 of life was no longer possible." True ! most true ! and if 
 we go to Bacon's life to find out what were these stern 
 facts which about the time that Lear was written, reached 
 and touched his soul, and forced him to include and com- 
 prehend the deepest mysteries of existence, we shall find 
 the events which cast those deep shadows in the plays. 
 For about this time — between 1600 and 1604 — the terrible 
 tragedy of Essex's fall tested and tortured his spirit. For 
 twent}^ years he had been a struggling disappointed man, 
 his transcendant powers neglected or put to ignoble 
 drudgery, forced to battle with sordid cares and envious
 
 PROF. DOWDEN S GLORIOUS GUESSES. 7 
 
 obstruction. He had lost his only brother Anthony, his 
 second self, his "comfort," as he pathetically calls him, 
 the one man in the whole world who understood and 
 valued him aright. His mother, after years of mental and 
 physical decay, had died, her splendid faculties having 
 been long clouded and distorted by madness. His dearest 
 hopes connected with that philosophic reformation which 
 was nearest his heart seemed to be removed from their 
 fruition by inaccessible distance ; his great nature fretted 
 in solitude against the barriers and hmitations which 
 seemed to baffle its most cherished aspirations. 
 
 Here we see the agony and conflict which Professor 
 Dowden so eloquently describes ; here is the cry of anguish 
 which is echoed in Hamlet's strife with destiny, and in 
 Lear's wild wail of unutterable pain. If Professor Dowden 
 had been able to search in this direction for the original 
 of the portrait which he draws of ''The Mind and Art of 
 Shakespeare," how would his deepest speculations have 
 been more than justified ! What new and profound and 
 precious comments would he have made if he could have 
 brought his glorious guesses into this historic environment ! 
 It is almost shocking, it is inexpressibly humiliating, to see 
 his attempts to establish a rapport for them with the 
 vulgar, hollow mask of a life which is all that research can 
 possibly find in the Stratford personality— a shrunken, 
 sordid soul, fattening on beer and coin, and finding sweet- 
 ness and content in the stercorariiim of his Stratford 
 homestead. Professor Dowden does not apparently shrink 
 from this desperate approximation, and here is the result : 
 " Shakspere had by this time mastered the world from a 
 practical point of view. He was a prosperous and wealthy 
 man." That is all ! Here is the issue of these glorious 
 guesses ; only this, and nothing more ! Oh, most lame 
 and impotent conclusion ! " Sounding the depths of Hfe,** 
 "including and comprehending" its hardest problems, 
 means only filling his pockets with gold — "Mastering the 
 world from a practical point of view," simply means
 
 8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACO>IIAN LIGHT. 
 
 making his fortune and retiring to the inglorious obscurity 
 of Stratford-on-Avon. He "somehow" encounters the 
 dark and terrible forces of the world, and the result is seen 
 in the bulging of his breeches pocket, and remunerative 
 transactions in malt and money-lending. It is indeed 
 difficult to understand how a thoughtful writer can endure 
 such intellectual contortions, how he can willingly undergo 
 the throes and agonies of parturient and mountainous 
 thought, and then give birth to this feeble, and funny, and 
 most ridiculous mouse. 
 
 In advocating the Baconian authorship of Shakespeare, 
 we are often confronted with the fact that for nearly three 
 hundred years the reputed authorship was accepted with- 
 out suspicion. In reference to this I may quote a remark 
 made by Mr. Spedding respecting the paper called 
 " Christian Paradoxes," which was attributed to Bacon by 
 many learned Editors and Writers, and that without any 
 dispute, for many years. When, however, capable critics 
 seriously inspected it, they refused to accept the current 
 opinion, and in 1864 Rev. Alexander Grosart discovered 
 the true author — Herbert Palmer. Spedding's discussion 
 of the case may be taken mutatis mutandis, as a very apt 
 vindication of the Baconian argument, as one lawfully and 
 reasonably raised. " I know " he says, " that in refusing it 
 a place among his works I am opposing myself to the 
 many eminent writers who have accepted it without 
 suspicion as his. But it is the absence of suspicion that 
 diminishes the value of their opinion. They have not 
 explained away the difficulty; they have overlooked it." 
 This is exactly our case. The so-called testimony in- 
 volved in contemporary allusion, simply means absence of 
 suspicion, — unconsciousness of difficulty. As soon as 
 suspicion is aroused, it is absolutely impossible that it 
 should ever again subside. (See Spedding's "Life of 
 Bacon," vi. 129.) 
 
 I have no intention of giving any exhaustive exposition 
 of the Baconian case. Indeed that is practically im-
 
 UNTRODDEN FIELDS. 9 
 
 possible for any one. The student who seeks to define 
 the relation that exists between Bacon's prose and Shake- 
 speare's poetry enters on a quest which has no terminus. 
 Every fresh reading in either group of writings brings out 
 new points of comparison, new features of resemblance. 
 My primary object is to show what a vast and neglected 
 quarry of Shakespearean comment is to be found in 
 Bacon's prose works, and to present some striking illustra- 
 tions of these " Bakespeare " studies. If this is part of the 
 Baconian polemic it is still more a contribution to Shake- 
 speare study. I wish also to show that this educational 
 field is much larger than has been hitherto supposed ; that 
 Shakespearian poetry and Baconian philosophy are to be 
 found in unsuspected localities — that our controversy is 
 not a barren wrangle about names and persons, but a rich 
 and fruitful excursion into the choicest plains of literature, 
 a country worthy of investigation on its own account, and 
 involving other issues than those of authorship, or patent 
 rights in special literary property. 
 
 Before, however, entering on these scattered studies, it 
 may be well to exhibit some features of that prima facie 
 case which is so strangely invisible to eminent Shakespeare 
 scholars. Those who hold a brief for William Shake- 
 speare, seem to me to hold in needless contempt such 
 common-sense judgments as are easily apprehended by 
 unlearned and non-critical readers. Indeed it seems to 
 me that Carlyle's cynical estimate of the intellectual 
 qualities of the human race is, in this case, far more 
 applicable to learned critics than to the unlettered public.
 
 10 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PRESUMPTIVE EVIDENCE. 
 
 The presumptive evidence belongs almost exclusively to 
 the negative or Shakespearean side of the case. To prove 
 a negative is proverbially difficult, consequently this it is 
 which we are, as a rule, challenged to do. This also I 
 think we can do ; but it must be by indirect, not direct, 
 proof — it must come as an inference from the positive 
 proofs of the other, the affirmative side of the case. These 
 negative presumptive evidences, however, are very strong, 
 and may be not unreasonably thought to comply with the 
 cornering and unreasonable demand that the negative 
 should be proved. 
 
 I. — Shakespeare's Personal History. 
 
 The m.ere enumeration of all that we know about 
 William Shakspere, his family, his neighbours, his en- 
 vironments, his actual pursuits, supplies a large instalment 
 of this evidence, especially when what we do not know, 
 but ought to know, if he was the man he is represented to 
 be, is added to what we do know. 
 
 William Shakspere when a boy certainly had no very 
 considerable educational advantages. I do not mean in 
 the matter of School Education ; there is no positive proof 
 that he had any. But he was not surrounded by culti- 
 vated people. John Shakspere, his father, signed his 
 name by a mark. So did most of the aldermen and 
 burgesses of the town. So did Shakspere's daughter, 
 Judith, when she married, in 1616. It is not antecedently
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF WILLIAM SHAKSPERE. II 
 
 probable that Shakspere was better educated than his 
 father and the leading men of his town. He n:iarried — 
 with needful and discreditable haste — when he was i8. 
 Before he was 21 he had a family — three children and a 
 wife, — and his father's broken-down household to look 
 after, and more or less to support : and about this time he 
 was apparently compelled to leave Stratford, his youthful 
 frolics having brought him into trouble. This must have 
 been the time when the true Shakespeare was studying 
 diligently, and filling his mind with those vast stores of 
 learning, — classic, historic, legal, scientific,— which bore 
 such splendid fruit in his after life. 
 
 The needy, struggling youth came to London about 
 1585, and no distinct traces of him are to be found till 
 1592. By that time he had become a fairly prosperous 
 theatre manager. This was very creditable to him : he 
 must have been a hardworking man of business ; but it is 
 not easy to imagine that he could have been also an 
 unremitting student. There is something incompatible 
 between the gifts which are required for commercial 
 success, especially in young manhood, and those which 
 achieve eminence in poetry and literature. The blank in 
 Shakspere's life, which no research can fill up, occurs 
 exactly where we might expect it to be. When a man is 
 burrowing painfully from the depths of poverty and 
 obscurity, trying perhaps to redeem his youthful faults and 
 recover from the misfortunes they have brought, striving 
 to reach the sunshine of opulence and \v0rldl3' success, he 
 is of necessity hidden from public view. He becomes 
 visible when the process is completed. And by the nature 
 of the result one may pretty safely infer the character of 
 the toil he has undergone. If a needy, and probably 
 deserving vagabond dives into the abyss of London life, 
 lies perdu for a few years, and then emerges as a tolerably 
 wealthy theatrical manager, you know that he must have 
 gained some mastery of theatre business, — he must have 
 made himself a useful man in the green room, a skilful
 
 12 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 organiser of players and stage effects, — he must have found 
 out how to govern a troop of actors, reconcihng their rival 
 egotisms and utilising their special gifts ; how to cater for 
 a capricious public, and provide attractive entertainments. 
 He would have little time for other pursuits — if a student 
 at all his studies would be very practical, relating to 
 matters of present and pressing interest. During this 
 dark period he has been carving his own fortune, filling his 
 pockets, not his mind ; working for the present, not for 
 the future. But it was exactly then that the plays began 
 to appear. Some critics have even supposed that the twin 
 plays, 2 and 3 Henry VI., saw the light about the same 
 time as Shakspere's twins were born. Most confidently I 
 submit that this personal history is not what might be 
 expected of Shakespeare. I need not recapitulate here all 
 the known facts about William Shakspere. I will only 
 say that not the remotest trace of any connexion between 
 him and learning can be found. His known occupations, 
 apart from theatre business, were money lending, malt 
 dealing, transactions in house and land property. He 
 retired from the stage, and settled- again in Stratford, 
 about the year 1603 — not seeking the society of cultivated 
 persons, not choosing for his home any locality where 
 books could be obtained to help him in the composition of 
 the yet unwritten plays. His Will makes no reference to 
 literary property, and no provision for the publication of 
 the plays which first appeared seven years after his death. 
 All that can be ascertained about William Shakspere 
 leaves the biography of the poet of Shakespeare still 
 unwritten, and does not supply one shred of explanation of 
 the genesis of the plays. 
 
 The whole matter may be summed up in the eloquent 
 words of Mr. Allanson Picton : — " A biography of Shake- 
 speare, in any proper sense of the word is not only 
 difficult ; it is impossible. For the development of his 
 character, the dawn of his powers, the pre- determining 
 causes involved in genealogy, the influence of schools and
 
 SHAKSPERE BIOGRAPHY IMPOSSIBLE. I3 
 
 schoolmasters, of relatives, friends and social surround- 
 ings, are in this case almost entirely irrecoverable. He 
 flashes suddenly upon us like the sun in the tropics, blaz- 
 ing with a light which drowns every feeling but one of 
 dazzled admiration. And he sinks as suddenly into the 
 blank night of death, with scarcely a trace of those private 
 interests, personal conflicts, struggles with temptation, or 
 domestic trials, which, like flying clouds, temper the glow, 
 and lend a tenderness to the departure of the day in its 
 more familiar course. This ignorance of all detail in the 
 origin and shaping of our transcendent poet, makes us 
 often contemplate him with the sort of unsatisfied longing 
 that affects us in view of a portent of which neither science 
 nor philosophy can give any account.''' 
 
 Both what is known about William Shakspere, and 
 what is not known, supply the prima facie evidence against 
 the claim made for him which eminent Shakespeare 
 students profess themselves unable to discover. 
 
 2. — Greene's "Groatsworth of Wit." 
 
 It will be found that the contemporary allusions to 
 Shakespeare — not excepting Ben Jonson's poem prefixed 
 to the folio of 1623, have no bearing on the question of 
 authorship. If any of them shew that the writer of the 
 allusion supposed the Stratford townsman to be the author 
 of Shakespeare, I do not care to dispute the fact. The 
 question still remains — what ground, beyond rumour and 
 title pages, had they for this opinion ? and did they take 
 any interest in the personal question at all ? I do not in- 
 tend to retrace the oft-trodden ground which Chettle and 
 his contemporaries occupy. These matters have been 
 sufficiently discussed by Mr. Appleton Morgan (" Shake- 
 speare Myth "), Nathaniel Holmes (" The Authorship of 
 Shakespeare"), and above all by Mr. Donnelly in the 
 admirable exposition of the entire subject which forms the 
 first volume of his, in other respects most unsatisfactory, 
 book, "The Great Cryptogram." But there is one refer-
 
 14 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 ence on which a few words may be given, because I can- 
 not help thinking it has been completely misunderstood. 
 All readers of Shakespeare's biography are familiar with 
 the allusion to Shakespeare supposed to be contained in 
 Robert Greene's pamphlet, — "A Groatsworth of Wit pur- 
 chased with a Million of Repentance," The writer seems to 
 be very angry with some one who has by false pretences 
 secured a prize which legitimate dramatic authors and 
 playwrights, belonging officially to the author's craft, have 
 been unable to secure. The successful man is " an upstart 
 crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tiger's 
 heart wrapt in a player's hyde supposes he is as well able to 
 bombast out a blanke verse as the best of you, and being 
 an absolute Johannes Factotum is, in his owne conceit, the 
 only Shake-Scene in a countrie." This was published in 
 1596, — but entered at Stationer's Hall in September 1592, 
 and probably published for the first time in that year. 
 Now whatever interpretation we may give to these cryptic 
 words, I do not think we can gather from them that the 
 "upstart crow " was an author, but only an actor, who 
 pretended to be an author also. For being only a handy 
 man at the theatre he is not one of the writers' class, and 
 has no right to profess himself an author. He is wearing 
 feathers which do not rightfully belong to him, and pre- 
 tending to be what he really was not. He is not a 
 dramatist, but onh' a spouter. All this is consistent with 
 the idea that Shakspere, if he is intended, was not the 
 writer of the plays which were attributed to him, and thus 
 the question not only remains open, it is actually started, 
 and a clear place is left for the Baconian or any other 
 hypothesis. But is the allusion to Shakspere at all ? I 
 very much doubt it. In 1592 "Shakespeare" did not exist 
 in literature at all, and only two or three of the plays 
 which subsequently appeared under this name could have 
 been written. It is difficult to understand how any sore- 
 ness could have been occasioned in Greene's mind by 
 William Shakspere's success at that time, such as it was, 
 • either as an author or an actor.
 
 POETRY, NOT HISTORY. 15 
 
 And I do not find in the word Shake-scene any necessary 
 reference to Shakspere. Thie word probably only points 
 sarcastically to some pompous and ostentatious player 
 who treads heavily on the boards, shaking the stage with 
 his footsteps and the house with his thunder. This same 
 self-asseiting personage is admirably described by the 
 poet : — 
 
 And with ridiculous and awkward action, 
 
 Which, — slanderer ! — he imitation calls. 
 
 He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, 
 
 Th}' topless deputation he puts on, 
 
 And, like a strutting player whose conceit 
 
 Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich 
 
 To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 
 
 'Twixt his stretched footing and the scaffoldage, — 
 
 Such to-be-pitied and o'er wrested seeming 
 
 He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks 
 
 'Tis like a chime a-mending ; with terms unsquared, 
 
 Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropped, 
 
 Would seem hyperboles : — At this fusty stuff Achilles 
 
 Laughs out a loud applause. 
 
 (Tro. Cr. i. iii. 149), 
 
 Unfortunately very few persons read Greene's tract in 
 extenso ; the allusion extracts are all they know. If, how- 
 ever, any reader will trouble himself to read the whole, 
 with fresh and unpreoccupied mind, I am inclined to think 
 he will very seriously doubt whether it is an outcome of 
 Greene's personal history in any sense. It reads like a 
 sort of poetical romance, fanciful and absolutely 
 unhistoric. Any one might pass over this allusion passage, 
 as it occurs in the book, without detecting anything auto- 
 biographic. It might even have been written by the Shakes- 
 pearean poet himself to draw attention to his then 
 unknown and unnoticed plays. The use ordinarily made 
 of it is, to say the least, one of very doubtful validity, and 
 if any allusion is secreted in it, the interpretation is quite 
 natural which supposes that the real author is concealed, 
 and that some unscrupulous player profits by the oppor-
 
 l6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 tunitv of anonymous authorship, and takes the credit to 
 himself. 
 
 3. — Probabilities. 
 
 If WiUiam Shakspere was the monarch of Parnassus, 
 the greatest philosophic poet and dramatist the world has 
 ever seen, some traces of this pre-eminence might be 
 expected to survive in history. He did not live in pre- 
 historic times, nor in the midst of social anarchy and 
 revolution in which the marks of individual greatness 
 might be extinguished. His contemporaries are fairly 
 well known, and he could not have been less noticed than 
 Ben Jonson, or Raleigh. Such a mighty man might be 
 expected to leave behind him some such traces as the 
 following : — 
 
 1. Some direct documentary evidence of authorship- 
 some manuscript, or letters, something which an auto- 
 graph hunter would eagerly take possession of and 
 carefully preserve. 
 
 2. Some genuine personal allusions, not relating to or 
 arising out of his poetry, but proper to himself, — some 
 tradition of weighty conversation, or wise letters, — some 
 literar}' scraps dropped in conversation or correspondence. 
 
 3. Some traces of other literary work, or serious occupa- 
 tion, besides the poems. 
 
 4. Some traces of a great and imposing personality, who 
 would honour any society by his presence, — some record 
 of his ability to leave a personal impression on his con- 
 temporaries answering to and commensurate with the 
 literary impression which he has left upon the world, 
 
 5. Some evidence that he was attracted by those things 
 which interest cultivated men, — books, libraries, in- 
 tellectual society, correspondence with men of kindred 
 tastes and accomplishments, — something to connect him 
 with the science, or studies of the time. 
 
 6. Some relics of his library, — books which he valued or
 
 LACUNA. 17 
 
 presented to his friends, which they would preserve as 
 heir-looms and memorials of the greatest man they ever 
 knew. The only book that has ever been supposed to 
 belong to him is a copy of Florio's "Montaigne," now in 
 the British Museum. But unfortunately the signature in 
 this book is supposed by capable judges to have been 
 forged. 
 
 7. Some traditions pointing to his connexion with 
 public life, with which his writings shew him to have 
 been remarkably familiar, — some account of his studies 
 in ancient and modern history and classic literature, — 
 some proofs of foreign travel, especially in Italy and 
 France, — something to account for his exceptional 
 acquaintance with courts, kings and upper-class society 
 — something to explain his distaste for the lower and 
 middle classes and his patrician scorn for the common 
 people. 
 
 8. Some indications that he valued learning for its own 
 sake and was ready to diffuse it, by giving his own 
 children a good education, and by promoting intellectual 
 pursuits in Stratford when he retired from business and 
 took up his residence there, a wealthy and unoccupied 
 man. 
 
 I say some such lights as these might be expected to 
 pierce through the gloom tl#at surrounds the man. I do 
 not claim that all these characteristic marks of greatness 
 should be visible, but some of them should, — and we are 
 entitled to ask why it is that none of these questions are 
 ever raised in the critical accounts of Shakspere. We have 
 plenty of details of what he must have been, and conse- 
 quently purely fanciful pictures of what he was, for which 
 not a shred of historic basis can be found. 
 
 In further pursuit of this line of enquiry we may notice 
 
 two or three characteristics which the true Shakespeare 
 
 certainly possessed, and which William Shakspere almost 
 
 as certainly did not possess. 
 

 
 l8 shakespeare studies in baconian light. 
 
 4. — The Lawyer. 
 
 Several books have been written in illustration of 
 Shakespeare's legal accomplishments, the most celebrated 
 though not the best, being that by Lord Campbell. This 
 knowledge, — all the lawyers admit, — was not the babble 
 of an amateur, coached up for special occasions. He does 
 not sport his little legal lore like a smatterer, loading par- 
 ticular plays or scenes with it, and then dropping it till the 
 next law business is required — it is always ready — it is not 
 reserved for dramatic situations involving legal points, but 
 it turns up unexpectedly, for allusion, or decoration or 
 simple expression of a vivid and pointed character. When 
 it is the ruling idea it is presented with a daring affluence 
 and freedom which no amateur could venture to attempt. 
 I do not think any one but a trained lawyer could have 
 written Sonnet 87. Only a lawyer can expound its 
 technicalities or say what branch of legal science is em- 
 ployed, or what statutory principles are intended. And 
 yet it is intelligible to the most unprofessional reader. 
 The law learning is so profound and yet so well digested, 
 that it blends with all other learning and can be used in 
 illustration of anything. Here it is : — 
 
 Farewell ! Thou art too dear for my possessing, 
 
 And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : 
 
 The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; 
 
 My bonds in thee are all determinate. 
 
 For how do I hold thee but by thy granting ? 
 
 And for lliat riches where is my deserving ? 
 
 The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, 
 
 And so my patent back again is swerving. 
 
 Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, 
 
 Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking ; 
 
 So thy great gift, upon misprison growing, 
 
 Comes home again on better judgment making. 
 
 Thus have I held thee, as a dream dotli Hatter, 
 
 In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. 
 
 Sonnet 46, is almost as legal, and could (or would) 
 scarcely have been written by an amateur.
 
 THE LEGAL EXPERT. I9 
 
 All the law critics admit that such language as this is 
 not the writing of an amateur but of an expert, and this is 
 Lord Campbell's conclusion. "There is nothing so 
 dangerous," says Lord Campbell, "as for one not of the 
 craft to tamper with our freemasonry," and he gives illus- 
 trations of the blunders made by educated men trying to 
 talk law-shop when they have not the necessary training 
 or experience. The outsider is sure, sooner or later to be 
 found out. He will traverse what he approves, — or empanel 
 a witness instead of a jury, — or in some way his legal 
 chatter will degenerate into jargon. But Shakespeare 
 never stumbles — he is never caught tripping, — the most 
 erudite lawyer can find nothing in his language that he can 
 take exception to. Consequently, Lord Campbell comes 
 to the positive conclusion that he must have spent some 
 time in the study or practice of law. "If the only possible 
 way for William Shakspere to have gained his legal 
 knowledge was his employment as an attorney's clerk at 
 Stratford-on-Avon, well then, Attorney's clerk he certainly 
 was,- -it must be taken as proved." Lord Campbell how- 
 ever, adds that there is not a particle of proof that he ever 
 was so employed, and that such proof would almost 
 certainly exist in the form of signatures, attestations or 
 documents in his handwriting. Perhaps if Lord Campbell 
 had written after instead of before the Baconian con- 
 troversy arose, he would have hesitated before making 
 such very compromising statements, which do, indeed, 
 contain or imply all the premises of a syllogistic argument 
 to prove that the man, William Shakspere, was not the 
 author of this law-talk at all. 
 
 Lawyers say that one of the most difficult things to 
 acquire in their profession is the phraseology. Law 
 students are repelled by its uncouth and strange pecu- 
 liarities, — its cumbrous and pedantic formality, its stiff 
 grotesque forms, its apparent redundancy and circumlo- 
 cution. They not only cannot accustom themselves 
 to it, they cannot endure it, they often hate it, — its
 
 20 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 language refuses to settle on their tongue. It takes 
 years of study and practice to overcome this repug- 
 nance. For a man to make this uncouth diction his 
 own, — to use it playfully, allusively, metaphorically, 
 poetically, — to wear it as a well-fitting garment to which 
 his own limbs and movements have become adjusted, is 
 the rarest possible achievement, and even for a good 
 lawyer may be impossible. Yet this is what we find in 
 Shakespeare, He "talks shop" so well that we forget that 
 it is shop ; it gathers grace, dignity, flexibility and beauty 
 as he incorporates it with the magic and the mystery and 
 the opulence of his own incomparable style. 
 
 If William Shakspere was a lawyer surely he would 
 have drafted his own will, and put into it some traces of 
 his own personality. But there is no indication of this. 
 The individuality of the testator never peeps through the 
 impersonal and featureless style ot the local scrivener, — 
 who, apparently, expected the testator to sign his name by 
 a mark, — by his seal, not his hand, — as if the draftsman 
 knew, what many experts in caligraphy suppose, that he 
 could not write. 
 
 It must be observed, that the proof that the writer was a 
 lawyer has a different rank from the proofs that he was a 
 doctor, a divine, a navigator, &c. The masonic sign is 
 recognised by the initiated. Mr. Furnivall, a barrister 
 himself, says, "That he was [an attorney's clerk] at one 
 time of his life I, as a lawyer, have no doubt. Shakspere's 
 knowledge of insanity was not got in a doctor's shop ; 
 though his law was, I believe, in a lawyer's office." It is 
 only non-professional critics who suppose that this legal 
 experience might have been picked up by hanging about 
 the courts, or by his own experience in litigation. And 
 this explanation is as difficult as Lord Campbell's unsolved 
 enigma. 
 
 5. — The Aristocrat. 
 
 The writer of Shakspere had the culture and tastes of a 
 statesman and an aristocrat. Hartley Coleridge said he
 
 A TORY AND A GENTLEMAN. 21 
 
 was "A Tory and a gentleman." The plays with one 
 exception, viz., the Merry Wives, do not deal with middle 
 class life at all. Men and women of all classes of life are 
 introduced, but the leading characters, the scenes, situa- 
 tion, events, interests and actions, belong to the life of 
 princes, nobles, statesmen, men of the upper classes. If 
 the life is rural, it is not that of peasants — the court moves 
 into the country, and the point of view is that of an 
 aristocrat looking on at peasant life (as in As Yovi, Like It), 
 not of a provincial townsman or peasant reporting his own 
 experiences. The virtuous peasant is represented by two 
 servants, Adam in As You Like It, and Flavins, the steward 
 of Timon — and these are humble retainers of aristocratic 
 masters, rustic parasites sucking virtue out of an aristocratic 
 organism. Thus the exceptions not only prove the rule, 
 they emphasize and accentuate it. 
 
 Not only so, we can see peeping from beneath the 
 dramatic mask, a fine patrician contempt for the common 
 people. Without any too adventurous interlinear read- 
 ings, one can see that the writer's sympathies are not with 
 Jack Cade, nor even with Joan of Arc, nor with the 
 popular tribunes, or the mob or crowd of common people 
 in the historic and classic plays, but rather with — Lord 
 Say, Julius Caesar and Coriolanus. The phrase from 
 Horace, Belhta multorum cs capituni, is very frequently 
 reflected in the plays. 
 
 The blunt monster with uncounted heads 
 The still-discordant, wavering multitude. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. Indue, i8) 
 
 and the wavering instability of the people is never forgotten. 
 
 Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude ? 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV., viii. 57.) 
 
 Bacon says of the people that "they ever love to run 
 from one extreme to another." (" Life," L, loo.) This 
 mobility is excellently pictured in the scene from 2 He7t. 
 VI. When Cade addresses them, all exclaim, "We'll
 
 22 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 follow Cade, we'll follow Cade." Clifford addresses then-> 
 immediately afterwards, and they exclaim, "A Clifford! 
 A Clifford ! we'll follow the King and Clifford." 
 
 Shakespeare speaks of " the fool multitude " {Mcr. Ven. 
 II. ix. 26), anticipating Carlyle's famous jibe, "mostly 
 fools." 
 
 Bacon's language is much the same : — " Your Lordships 
 see what monstrous opinions these are, and how both 
 these beasts, the beast with seven heads, and the beast 
 with many heads, — pope and people, — are at once let in." 
 {Talbot, Charge. "Life," V. 10.) 
 
 " A thing acceptable to the people, who ever love to run 
 from one extreme to another." (" Life," I. 100.) 
 
 "Multitudes, which can never keep within the compass 
 of any moderation." (Pacif. of Ch. III. 107.) 
 
 Bacon also speaks of the people as fools : and no fiercer 
 invective against the "vulgar heart" of the multitude, — 
 the "beastly feeder" that disgorges to-day what it 
 swallowed greedily yesterday, — was ever penned, than that 
 which Shakespeare puts into the mouth of the Archbishop 
 of York. (See 2 Hen. IV. I., iii., 87—108.) 
 
 "The master of superstition is the people; and in all 
 superstitions wise men follow fools." (Essay of "Super- 
 stition.") 
 
 " There is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when 
 men think to do best if they go farthest from the super- 
 stition formerly received. Therefore care would be had 
 that, — as it fareth in ill purgings, — the good be not taken 
 away with the bad, which commonly is done when the 
 people is the reformer." (lb.) 
 
 "Praise . . . if it be from the common people, is 
 commonly false and naught, and rather followeth vain 
 persons than virtuous : for the common people understand 
 not many excellent virtues." (Essay of " Praise.") 
 
 "Common people have praise for the lowest virtues, 
 admiration for the middle, but for the highest, no sense at 
 all." (Antitheta on "Praise,")
 
 NO COUNTRY LIFE IN SHAKESPEARE. 23 
 
 Professor Dowden admits that Shakespeare "had 
 within him some of the elements of English Conservatism." 
 And it has been a matter of reproach that he has so little 
 sympathy with those of his own class, whose good repute 
 ought to have been precious to him. Mrs. Pott, in her 
 pamphlet, "Did Francis Bacon write Shakespeare?" 
 remarks on the very notable absence of events, scenes and 
 interests belonging to rural life. There is no village green 
 with rustic dances, no may-pole, no country inn, no fair, 
 no market, no har^'est home, no haymaking, no Christmas 
 games, none of the small pleasures and allurements of 
 county or country-town life. There is no brewing, cider 
 making, fruit gathering, hop picking, reaping, gleaning, 
 threshing, no farm house, no scene in a country gentle- 
 man's house. If Falstaff visits Justice Shallow and 
 interviews the rustics, it is for political purposes, for 
 conscription ; and the excuses of the unhappy peasants to 
 obtain exemption from military service are matters for 
 ridicule and laughter. If rustic service or occupations are 
 introduced it is by allusion — as in Troilus and Crcssida, 
 the processes of baking are referred to, — they are never 
 matters of primary interest. The plays are exactly what 
 might be expected from a courtier and a scholar, with a 
 liberal education and familiarity with the upper ten 
 thousand. If a rustic wrote them, his emancipation from 
 rustic ideas is one miracle, and his knowledge of upper 
 class life another. 
 
 It need scarcely be remarked that such absolute want of 
 sympathy with the common people could not possibly have 
 been expressed by a man of low, if not peasant rank, who 
 all his life belonged to a class which was treated as com- 
 posed of vagabonds and outcasts. For William Shake- 
 speare to have thus written would stamp him as an ill 
 bird, fouhng his own nest,— a true son of Ham exposing 
 his own father's nakedness.
 
 24 shakespeare studies in baconian light. 
 
 3, — The Classical Scholar. 
 
 The writer was a classical scholar. Critics say that the 
 classic learning was derived from translations or general 
 reading. It is difficult to understand how this can be with 
 reference to classic authors who were then untranslated. 
 And it is still more difficult to understand how such a 
 profound knowledge of classic history and mythology as 
 is shewn, not only in the classic plays, but in those which 
 did not require such embellishment, can have been 
 acquired without going to the original sources. Drake or 
 Captain Cook did not learn navigation by towing a ferry 
 or such small "translation" as this : Captain Webb did 
 not learn to swim the Channel by paddling in a brook : 
 and it is equally improbable that Shakespeare could sail 
 so easily in these large oceans of classic lore without 
 scholarly preparation. 
 
 As this, however, will be separately discussed I need not 
 enlarge upon it here. 
 
 4. — Various Accomplishments. 
 
 The writer was apparently well versed in French ; he 
 writes very good conversational French. He very often 
 uses French words either as such, or Anglicised. The 
 following are specimens of his French : some of the 
 words which are now fully naturalized were in his time 
 more or less strangers: — Accoutrement, advertise (avertir), 
 aidant, aigre (or eager for the same French word), 
 allegiant, amort, appellants, bawcock (beaucoq), benison, 
 bruit, blazon, buttons (for boutons), cap-a-pe, coigne, 
 debonnair, deracinate, egal, esperance, foison, guerdon 
 (or re-guerdon), legerity, matin, mot, moiety, montant, 
 oelhards, orguellous, orisons, parle, point-device, puissance, 
 puissant, rendezvous, rigol, rivage, sans, semblable. Also 
 such phrases as, to utterance (a outrance) in happy time 
 (a la bonne heure). 
 
 Shakespeare puts a good deal of French into Henry V.,
 
 Shakespeare's travels. 25 
 
 and with reference to one quotation which he makes from 
 the New Testament — viz., " Le chien est retourne a son 
 propre vomissement et la truie lavee au bourbier " 
 {Henry V. III. vii. 68)— Mr, Hudson thus comments : — 
 "It has been remarked that Shakespeare was habitually 
 conversant with his Bible; we have here a strong pre- 
 sumptive proof that he read it, at least occasionally, in 
 French. This passage will be found, almost literally, in 
 the Geneva Bible of 1588. (2 Pet. ii. 22)." 
 
 Indications of familiarity with Spanish and Italian are 
 not wanting, but are less decisive. 
 
 The writer had most probably travelled in France 
 and Italy, as we know Bacon did in his early youth. 
 Professor Elze goes far to prove that Shakespeare had 
 visited Mantua, and seen the tomb of Julio Romano. 
 There is a reference to this artist in the Winter's Tale, as a 
 sculptor, not agreeing with what was then currently known 
 about him, for he is generally spoken of as a painter. 
 But the description given of him exactly and minutely 
 corresponds to that given in his epitaph- at Mantua; and 
 Professor Hales thinks that by this observation Professor 
 Elze has "certainly increased the probability of Italian 
 travels," which other critics have supposed, especially 
 from the topographical and other knowledge, accurate and 
 detailed, shown in the Merchant of Venice, the Comedy of 
 Errors, and Othello. 
 
 The supposition that all these accomplishments can 
 have been possessed by William Shakspere seems to me 
 audacious or desperate in the extremest degree. Critics, 
 however, can venture on extravagant speculations to fill 
 up the lacunas in their biographies of the author of 
 "Shakespeare," which in any other setting would be at 
 once scouted as impossible. One of the boldest and most 
 amusing of these speculations is contained in Mr. Neild's 
 Edition of Romeo and Juliet. In this play, and in Hamlet, 
 the editor finds unmistakable traces of the influence of 
 Giordano Bruno; and as there is some evidence that the
 
 26 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 [talian Philosopher was a guest of Sir Fulke Greville at 
 Warwick Castle some time in the years 1583 — 1585, Mr. 
 Xeild finds in that visit the explanation of the Bruno 
 traces in these plays. " What if the philosophic poet [i.e., 
 Greville] felt an early sympathy with the young singer of 
 Avon, and brought the most wonderful Italian thinker of 
 the age into living connection with the most pregnant of 
 the wits of England, by an invitation to Warwick Castle 
 given to William Shakespere while Bruno was there as a 
 guest, for Greville was the possessor of Warwick Castle, 
 and Member of Parliament for Warwickshire along with 
 Sir Thomas Lucy, and was a very frequent visitor at 
 Stratford-on-Avon." This seems to me one of the boldest 
 anachronisms in literature. Who could possibly know 
 anything about William Shakspere's "pregnant wit" in 
 1583 or 1585 ? If Greville had ever heard of him from Sir 
 T. Lucy, he probably knew of him as a wild youth who 
 had stolen his deer, and was deservedly punished for his 
 riotous gambols. The fact that such cobweb theories as 
 this must be constructed if any intelligible account of 
 William Shakespere as the supreme poet can be given, 
 supplies the strongest prima facie evidence against his 
 supposed authorship. 
 
 I need not refer to other accomplishments in science and 
 Biblical learning which were possessed by Shakespeare. I 
 will only remark that even if part of this learning might be 
 somehow picked up by an unlettered peasant, yet the 
 entire sum of it, the full-orbed completeness with which 
 he had mastered all the learning of his time, and " taken 
 all knowledge into his province," cannot easily be con- 
 nected with what we know of William Shakspere. This 
 cannot be assumed, it must be proved, and it is quite 
 certain that the materials for such proof do not exist. 
 
 5. — Shakspere Biography. 
 
 Let it be noted that nearly all the current biographies of 
 Shakspere are filled with surmises, speculations, guesses
 
 CONJECTURAL BIOGRAPHY. 27 
 
 and more or less baseless assertions. The one work of 
 this class in which these features are absent is Halliwell 
 Phillipps's "Outlines," and as this most excellent work 
 contains only well-established facts, resting on historic and 
 documentary evidence, it is quite impossible to find in it 
 the author of Lear or Hamlet. We find only William 
 Shaxpur of Stratford-on-Avon, and accordingly Baconians 
 may claim this book as one of the strongest outside 
 buttresses of the Baconian theor}'. The speculations to 
 which I refer are, of course, such as are required by the 
 unchallenged assumption that W^illiam Shakspere really 
 wrote the poems attributed to Shakespeare. As soon as 
 this is disputed, the biographies are starved of their best 
 material, and become, as Bacon says, "poor shrunken 
 things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and un- 
 pleasing to themselves " (Essay of "Truth "). It is quite a 
 pleasant little comedy to watch the variety and multitude 
 of these guessing phrases, the costume and property of the 
 dramatic fictions called " Life of Shakspere." I may be 
 allowed here to reproduce some remarks bearing on this 
 subject from the " Bacon Journal," II. go, in a review of 
 Mrs. Stopes' book on "The Bacon-Shakespeare Question: " 
 — "Mrs. Stopes' eloquent and original account of William 
 Shakspere's life does great credit to her powers of 
 imagination and invention. It is a pleasant little fable, the 
 construction of which must have been attended with much 
 poetic rapture. The whole of this charming piece of fiction 
 is freely sprinkled over with the guessing formulae which 
 are so amply used by these romancists, such as : ' would 
 doubtless ' — ' must have learned ' — ' no doubt he often ' — 
 ' perhaps he would ' — * my own opinion is ' — ' he certainl}^ 
 felt' — 'it is more than likely' — ' they would see' — 'just 
 think how' — *I think' — 'probably he became.' These 
 phrases, some of them repeated more than once, crowd 
 the pages. This is all very amusing, but as for the history 
 or logic of the case they are conspicuously absent. The 
 muse of History returns to the nursery, where she dresses 
 up a doll and puts on grandmamma's spectacles."
 
 28 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Exactly the same account may be fj^lven of the learned 
 but in some respects unsatisfactory book which Mr. Sidney 
 Lee facetiously calls "The Life of Shakespere." 
 
 Mr. George Stronach in a review of Mr. Sidney Lee's 
 book (" Baconiana," April, i8gg) produces between eighty 
 and ninety such phrases as Mrs. Stopes uses so freely, 
 picked out at haphazard from this remarkable biography. 
 It really is not a life of Shakspere at all, but a very learned 
 and valuable catalogue raisonnec of certain literary creations 
 passing under Shakespeare's name, with incidental and 
 quite unnecessary references to one Mr. Shakspere. All 
 that is said about William Shakspere might be left out, 
 and the value of the work rather increased than diminished. 
 Here also little Clio re-enters the nursery aiid tries to talk 
 like her mother, Mnemosyne, whose spectacles she has 
 stolen; but instead of Memory of Facts, we have Invention 
 of Fancies. Mr. Lee's usual formula for uncertain state- 
 ments is ^' doicbiless," which may, of course, mean as much 
 doubt and as little certainty as anyone chooses to admit. 
 Sometimes sheer inventions are stated without the use of 
 any conjecturing phrase, with as much and as positive an 
 assurance as if they were capable of historic verification. 
 For instance, Mr. S. Lee published in the Comhill Maga- 
 zine for April, 1899, a paper on the Shakespeare Folio 
 of 1623, which may be taken as a rider to his book. In 
 this paper he says : "The copy for the press, the manu- 
 scripts of the pla5^s, the publishers obtained from the 
 managers of the acting corhpany with whom Shakspere 
 was long connected as both author and actor." What 
 historic or even moral justification Mr. S. Lee can find 
 for this manner of writing history I must leave to his own 
 personal responsibilit}', for I am at a loss to conjecture. 
 The only possible authority for this statement is contained 
 in the Cryptic Address to the reader, and the Dedication 
 to Pembroke and Montgomery, prefixed to the 1623 Folio. 
 The Dedication simply says, " We have but collected 
 them." The Address says they "have collected and
 
 FICTION yOT FOUNDED ON FACT. 29 
 
 published them . . . absolute in their numbers, as he con- 
 ceived them." These words certainly do not contain any of 
 the detail which Mr, S. Lee thinks proper to state as if it 
 were well-ascertained fact. There is nothing to enable us 
 to determine whether the " collecting " was made by 
 hunting in the theatres, or turning over the poet's own 
 papers and searching his pigeon-holes. Now, inasmuch as 
 the whole of the introductory matter prefixed to the 1623 
 Folio is matter for keen debate, since the Cambridge 
 editors and others find so much suggestio falsi as to 
 deprive all its unproved assertions of any authority, as no 
 one knows whether the professed editors (who were, of 
 course, genuine persons) were men of straw, or responsible 
 editors; and as the whole prefatory matter, including Ben 
 Jonson's poem, may be as much a dramatic performance 
 or "Induction" as that prefixed to the Taming of the 
 Shrew, Mr. S. Lee's detailed statement, explaining the 
 sources of the Folio, may be considered as somewhat 
 hazardous. And Shakspere biography, if it is to be com- 
 plete, if its distressing lacunse are to be filled up or bridged 
 over, so as to bring it into relation with the Renaissance 
 Drama, must be buttressed and supplemented by such 
 guesses and fictions as Mr. S. Lee and the rest of them 
 substitute for facts. Under these circumstances it might 
 be supposed that the poet's biography must be recon- 
 structed, perhaps even transferred to another personality. 
 Assuredly this hypothesis is not unreasonable. 
 
 I have said that the most trustworthy life of William 
 Shakspere is that by Halliwell Phillipps. x^nd what sort 
 of personality does he produce ? We see a rustic peasant, 
 a country townsman, born and bred in a "bookless neigh- 
 bourhood," among utterly uneducated people. The youth 
 is not destitute of some qualities that make for advance- 
 ment in life. If no good, yet not much harm is known of 
 him, if the circumstances connected with his over hasty 
 and early marriage are neglected. After a somewhat 
 stormy youth he forsakes his native town, when a very
 
 30 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 young man, in order to push his fortunes in London. He 
 succeeds beyond his expectations, becomes rich on the 
 gains of theatrical management, and after some years 
 returns to the town where his family had continued to 
 reside, and spends the rest of his days in commercial and 
 money-lending transactions, which, if fairly respectable, 
 were not very noble, never sparing any defaulting 
 creditor, but pursuing him with the utmost rigour of the 
 law. His speculations seem to have been generally 
 fortunate, he becomes a land-owner and lives in a fine 
 house which he has purchased. And this is all ! Not a 
 trace of such occupations as those in w^hich the author of 
 Shakespeare might be supposed to be most interested, no 
 mention of books or studies, or any literary property, not 
 even in his will; not a scrap of his writing preserved except 
 five or six shockingly written signatures, variously spelt, 
 nothing to show literary education, or acquired learnin>T 
 or literary performance. As to the works which we now 
 call Shakespeare they are leagues away from the subject of 
 Mr. Halliwell Phillipps' biography, and not a single 
 significant or really valuable commentary on any one 
 passage in them is to be derived from anything we 
 positively know concerning the man to whom they are 
 traditionally attributed. 
 
 The paradox and anomaly of all this is so infinite that 
 even highly orthodox Shakespeareans are obliged some- 
 times to admit as much, and, as to the detachment of the 
 Shakespeare drama from all that relates to the man, no one 
 has exposed it with more cynical frankness than Richard 
 Grant ^^'hite, who bore the proud title of " Shakespeare's 
 Scholar." The chapter on Stratford-on-Avon, in his book 
 "England Within and Without," concludes with these 
 remarkable words : "Thus ended my visit to Stratford-on- 
 Avon, where I advise no one to go who would preserve 
 any elevated idea connected with Shakespeare's person- 
 ality. There is little there to interest and much to 
 dishearten a 'passionate pilgrim' to the scenes of the
 
 A DESECRATED SHEKINAH. 3I 
 
 earlier and later life of him who is the great glory of our 
 literature. ... As I drove out of the town, on my 
 way to Kenilworth .... the last object which caught 
 my eye was a large sign over a little shop, William 
 Shakespeare, Shoemaker. A fitting close, I thought, 
 of my pilgrimage. It would have annoyed the 'gentleman 
 born ' much more than it annoyed me, and for quite 
 another reason. The only place in England which he who 
 is sometimes honoured with the name of ' Shakespeare's 
 Scholar ' regrets having visited, is that where Shakespeare 
 was born and buried." And these words were written by 
 the man who cannot find terms of insult too gross to hurl 
 at those who, when they wish to visit the ancient haunts of 
 the Shakespeare poet, do not go to Stratford-on-Avon, but 
 to Gorhambury and St. Albans. 
 
 In conclusion, let me add that the two book?, which 
 supply the most powerful arguments for the negative 
 side of our case — the anti-Shakspere side — are, Halli- 
 well Phillipps' "Outlines," and Ingleby's "Century of 
 Praise." Of Dr. Ingleby's "Collection of Allusions," 
 extending over a hundred years, I may confidently assert 
 that it does not contain one single testimony to authorship 
 which need give the least tremor to Baconians. Not one 
 of these allusions complies with the conditions defined in 
 the second number of our list of Probabilities, see p. ib. 
 This is, of course, of no importance to Baconians ; it is 
 exactly what they are prepared for. The real perplexity 
 is for Shakespeareans. Where, they may ask, is Mr. 
 William Shakspere, of Stratford-on-Avon, in this crowded 
 catalogue of allusions ? Where is he ? And echo answers 
 — Where?
 
 32 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 FRANCIS BACOX. 
 
 I.— The Scholar and Man of the World. 
 
 That Francis Bacon wrote Shakespeare, I have no more 
 doubt than that he wrote the Novum Organmn. Wilham 
 Shaxpur is impossible, and as he retreats, enter the noble 
 and majestic form of Francis Bacon ! No one else can be 
 seriously suggested as the author : if the Stratford towns- 
 man is dethroned, Bacon immediately steps into the 
 vacant place. He alone is known to have had all the 
 knowledge shewn in the poetry. Nearly all that was 
 knowable in his time, he knew. His mind was well 
 stored with classic lore. It may sound paradoxical, yet 
 it is true, that one very significant indication of this is his 
 constant habit of inaccurate quotation. He does not 
 seem to have made a practice of looking up passages in the 
 original : he quotes from memory, and although he always 
 gives either the true sense or an improvement upon it, yet 
 he very often does not give the ipsissima verba ; and this 
 habit of inaccurate quotation is, I think, the mark of a 
 scholar retaining ideas but not always reproducing precise 
 words. One or two specimens will suffice ; scores may be 
 found in Reynolds' edition of the "Essays." In the Essay 
 of "Adversity," Bacon quotes Seneca in this form : "Vere 
 magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei." 
 The exact words, as Mr. Reynolds points out, are, " Ecce 
 res magna, habere imbccillitatem hominis securitatem Dei." 
 In the Essay of "Seditions and Troubles," Tacitus is thus 
 quoted : " Conflata magna invidia, sen bene, sen male gesta
 
 bacon's versatility. ^^ 
 
 Premunt." The words are, " Inviso semel principe, sen 
 bene sen male facta prcmuni" 
 
 This verbal inaccuracy must be remembered when the 
 small errors in fact or allusion of Shakespeare are referred 
 to as proof of deficient scholarship and as impossible for 
 Bacon. Such mistakes are not only no argument against 
 the Baconian theory, they are consistent with it, and even 
 help to sustain it. 
 
 There is not, I believe, a single hint of knowledge con- 
 tained in the plays which may not be illustrated by 
 reference to Bacon's acknowledged works. And the gifts 
 of fancy, imagination, wit, genius are his in rich abundance. 
 Every page of his writings sparkles with gems of fancy. 
 He could not write a letter on the dryest subject without 
 some gleam of poetic embellishment. His was a royal 
 mastery of language never surpassed, never perhaps 
 equalled, such a mastery as we see in Shakespeare and 
 no where else. He was the most accomplished lawyer of 
 his age, not excepting even Lord Coke ; not willingly, — 
 for he would have preferred to devote himself to other 
 pursuits, — but, as he was obliged to live by his profession, 
 so, by slow, gradual advancement, by sheer force of merit, 
 he won his way to its very summit, and acquired that 
 command of legal science and phraseology which is so 
 marked a feature of the plays. He was a courtier, and a 
 statesman, the son of a Lord Chancellor, nearly related to 
 or closely intimate with the most eminent men in the 
 kingdom ; a constant associate with royal and aristocratic 
 persons. His native region was the Court of princes and 
 the halls of noble?. He was skilled in foreign languages, 
 French, Spanish and Italian ; had lived in France and 
 travelled in the South of Europe in his early youth, and 
 knew by his own e3'esight, and by his own marvellous gifts 
 of perception, the Italian scenes and skies which are so 
 well described in the early plays. Several letters, written 
 by Bacon in French, are published in Spedding's life. 
 
 D
 
 34 shakespeare studies in baconian light. 
 
 2. — The Poet, 
 
 He was a poet. Nearly all the critics agree in this, 
 however much they may otherwise differ. The quick 
 perception of analogies, the habit of reading spiritual laws 
 in (and into) historic facts and natural phenomena, the 
 irresistible poetic bias which induced him to enshrine the 
 fanciful conceits of his Philosophia Prima into the very 
 highest place, the very citadel of his Philosophy, all these 
 were supremely characteristic of his mind. He was, like 
 Shakespeare, primarily a philosopher, a moralist, and he 
 uses his powers of invention, his imagination and fancy 
 and eloquence, in order that he may discourse more 
 effectively on matters pertaining to the conduct of life and 
 to knowledge and experience of the world. And whenever 
 he discusses these topics, he is lavish in the use of 
 poetic imagery and vivid imaginative discourse. In his 
 "Advancement of Learning," he is irresistibly tempted to 
 wander over far larger fields than the immediate topic 
 requires, in order to introduce most exquisite discussions 
 of the symbolic meanings which he finds in the fables of 
 ancient mytholog}^ He lingers over all sorts of social and 
 ethical questions, — Nobility, Beauty, Riches, Praise, 
 Fortune and such like. We may v/ell ask why he should 
 decorate his philosophy with plumage of this kind. In 
 truth, the only reason is that the philosopher is really a 
 poet. He must sing, for his native region is Parnassus, 
 and the stores of wisdom and of beauty which he finds in 
 the sacred mount, flow forth spontaneously whenever he 
 speaks. Even in the Novum Orgnnnui his scientific 
 expositions sparkle with the jewels of fancy ; the nomen- 
 clature of his inductive processes is one of the most 
 astonishing exhibitions of witty invention ever produced. 
 The wine of Poetry distilled from his "Vintages" almost 
 intoxicates the senses, and often half spoils his science. 
 Harvey was puzzled, perhaps with some mixture of scorn, 
 at these scientific discourses of the "Chancellor." He
 
 SHELLEY ON BACON AS POET, 35 
 
 had not been accustomed to such science — it had never 
 come forth from his shop, none of his masters discoursed 
 thus. The surprising feature of the case is, that notwith- 
 standing the poetry, the science is so good. Such a 
 blending of scientific insight and poetic fancy is without 
 parallel in all literature. Goethe is the nearest approach. 
 Bacon spoke of himself as a "concealed poet," and I 
 have seen no approach to a satisfactory explanation of this 
 most remarkable utterance, except that which connects 
 him with Shakespeare. And all the best critics and 
 biographers of Bacon refer to his poetical attributes. If 
 testimony relating to poetic faculty apart from poetic art is 
 to have any weight, that of Shelley may suffice. More 
 than once he dwells enthusiastically on the poetic character 
 of Bacon's mind. "Like Plato" — Shelley writes in his 
 " Symposium," — "he exhibits the rare union of close and 
 subtle logic with the Pythian enthusiasm of poetry, melted 
 by the splendour and harmony of his periods into one 
 irresistible stream of musical impressions, which hurry the 
 persuasions onward as in a breathless career. His 
 language is that of an immortal spirit rather than a 
 man." These words, though applied primarily to Plato, 
 are expressly handed on to Bacon. And in his "Defence 
 ■of Poetry," Shelley writes : — 
 
 " Lord Bacon was a poet. His language has a sweet 
 and majestic rhythm which satisfies the sense, no less than 
 the almost superhuman wisdom of his philosophy satisfies 
 the intellect. It is a strain which distends, and then 
 bursts the circumference of the reader's mind, and pours 
 itself forth together with it, into the universal element 
 sympathy " (Defence of Poetry "). 
 
 3. — Bacon's Concealments. 
 
 Bacon writes of himself as "a concealed poet." One 
 argument against his supposed Shakespearian authorship 
 is derived from the concealment involved. It is contended 
 •that if Bacon had written "Shakespeare" some indications
 
 36 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 of this would certainly appear in his correspondence, or in 
 that of his personal friends, some of whom must have 
 shared the secret with him. If Bacon himself wished to 
 conceal this fact he would doubtless do so very effectually, 
 and would pledge his friends (especially Ben Jonson, John 
 Heminge, and Henry Condell), to respect his incognito. 
 The reasons for this secrecy are not difficult to conjecture, 
 and have been so fully discussed by Baconian writers 
 that I need not here dilate upon them. (See Reed's 
 "Bacon v. Shakespeare," p. 124. Donnelly's "Great 
 Crypt.," i. 246.) 
 
 Suffice it to say that for reasons of his own, doubtless 
 good and sufficient, he elected to be known by his con- 
 temporaries and by immediate posterity as a philosopher 
 and reformer of science, rather than as a poet, especially a 
 dramatic poet. But there is another side to this conceal- 
 ment which is less noticed. Bacon's private life has never 
 been written, and the materials for writing it do not exist, 
 or certainly have not been found. His public life, as a 
 statesman and lawyer is very fully known, but we never 
 catch a glimpse of him in his parlour, or study, or bedroom. 
 His private letters have nearly all disappeared, and such 
 personal recollections as his contemporaries penned do not 
 supply any important particulars of home life and its. 
 domestic details. Spedding publishes a letter written to> 
 his niece referring to her approaching marriage, and pre-^ 
 fixes the following remarks : — 
 
 "The letter which follows is again a solitary specimen. 
 . . . A letter of advice from Bacon to his niece upon- 
 an offer of marriage to which she was not inclinable, is a 
 task which, exhibiting him in a new relation, throws some 
 new light upon his character,— a light which is more 
 valuable because, w^hile he has left the records of the 
 business of his life for our inspection in such abundance 
 and with so little reserve, — while he makes us welcome to 
 attend him to the Court, the palace, the Parhament, and 
 the council-board, to his gardens, his chambers, and his 
 stud}', he seldom or never admits us to his fireside. We
 
 bacon's anonymous writings. 37 
 
 have a few letters of affection to kinsmen or familiar 
 friends, which are amongst the most agreeable of his 
 writings ; but if it had not been for the miscellaneous 
 bundles of papers of all sorts left by his brother Anthony, 
 and probably never examined, we should have known 
 nothing at all of his more intimate domestic relations. 
 Here we get a glimpse of him as an uncle only ; but in the 
 absence of all records of that most intimate relation of all, 
 ah account of which seems to have been expected of me, 
 but must still be expected in vain, it is something to know 
 how he acquitted himself in a correspondence with the 
 daughter of his half-brother " (" Life," vi. 173). 
 
 Here is one specimen of the way in which Bacon 
 ''sequestered himself from popularity," and locked the 
 door whenever he entered into his closet. And in other 
 respects we can plainly see Bacon's fondness for self- 
 concealment. There are several letters, published in 
 Spedding's "Life," which, though written by Bacon, were 
 appropriated, with his concurrence, by others. In Vol. L, 
 page 97, is a long and important letter signed by Sir 
 Francis Walsingham, which is undoubtedly Bacon's. The 
 very characteristic letters to the Earl of Rutland on his 
 travels, were sent to the Earl by Lord Essex as his own 
 compositions, and are included in Devereux's Memoirs of 
 the Earl of Essex. The editor was hardly prepared to find 
 such compositions among the Essex MSS., and finds in 
 them proofs of a greater literary gift than he supposed 
 Essex to possess. No one familiar wiih Bacon's writings 
 can have the least hesitation in assenting to Mr. Spedding's 
 conclusion that they are his. There are also letters 
 written for the Earl to Anthony Bacon, and another for 
 Anthony's reply, intended to be used in order to restore 
 Essex to the favour of the Queen. Of these letters Dr. 
 Abbott says: — "The wonderful exactness with which he 
 has caught the somewhat quaint, humorous, cumbersome 
 style of Anthony, and the abrupt, incisive antithetical and 
 passionately rhetorical style of Essex, makes the perusal 
 
 197609
 
 38 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 of these letters a literary treat, independent of their other 
 merits." Here also we find the dramatic faculty revealing 
 itself. This hide-and-seek propensity is not without 
 significance when the question of Bacon's relation to 
 Shakespeare is under consideration. 
 
 4. — Bacon's Literary Output. 
 
 Among the many shallow objections brought against 
 the Baconian theory, one is founded on the assumption 
 that Bacon was a voluminous writer, and that if we add to 
 his avowed literary productions the Shakespearean Drama, 
 he is loaded with such a stupendous literary progeny as no 
 author could possibly generate. Moreover, he was so busy 
 in state business as a lawyer, judge, counsellor, member of 
 Parliament, confidential adviser to the King and the 
 responsible rulers in State and Church, that he had very 
 little spare time for authorship. 
 
 As to Bacon's occupations in law and politics, they were 
 very scanty up to the year 1607, when he was 46 years of 
 age and was made Solicitor-General. His complaint was 
 that he lacked employment. When he was 35 years old, 
 he writes to his uncle. Lord Burghley, " My life hath been 
 so private as I have had no means to do your Lordship's 
 service." And as to his employment by the Queen he 
 says, "Her service was a kind of freehold." And he ex- 
 pressly said that his own private studies occupied him 
 more than his public engagements. That these solitary 
 pursuits were very absorbing we know from many indica- 
 tions of the seclusion which he practised, which distressed 
 his mother, and sometimes vexed those who sought access 
 to him. Now it was during this time, — up to his 45th 
 year, — when he had scarcely any public work and was 
 labouring unremittingly in his study, that nearly all the 
 Shakespeare plays appeared, His most important philo- 
 sophical works began to appear in 1605, when the 
 "Advancement" was published. The Novum Organon 
 was not published till 1620. There were various small
 
 NOT A VOLUMINOUS AUTHOR. 39 
 
 and fragmentary anticipations of the Novum Organon 
 which appeared in 1605, 1606, 1607, 1608, 1612 and 1616 ; 
 and the "Essays" and " De Sapientia Vetenmi" and some 
 smaller works appeared before 1609. 
 
 But there is absolutely nothing that accounts for his 
 private studies and literary pursuits during the first forty 
 years of his life. When we proceed to make an estimate 
 of the entire literary output of Bacon, as a scientific and 
 philosophical writer, the amount is really somewhat small. 
 His Life and Works, edited by Spedding and Ellis, occupy 
 14 8vo. volumes. But the prefaces, notes, editorial com- 
 ments, translations from the Latin, and biographical 
 narrative occupy more than half of the seven volumes of 
 Biography. And a large space in all the fourteen volumes 
 is devoted to business letters, speeches. State papers, 
 evidences of witnesses or culprits in State trials, and such 
 like documents, besides memoranda relating to private 
 matters of no literary significance whatever, so that out of 
 the 1,480 pages which are put down to Bacon's credit m 
 the seven volumes devoted to the Life, only about 375 
 pages can be ranked as literature, and these seven volumes 
 themselves contain 3,000 pages. If we calculate the 
 whole amount contained in the fourteen volum.es we shall 
 find it may be reckoned at about six such volumes, each 
 containing 520 pages. And this includes the legal writ- 
 ings and speeches. Bacon was 66 years old when he died. 
 Such genius as his ripens early. When he was 20 he was 
 a ripe scholar, and capable of literary production. And all 
 we can find for his whole life amounts to about 70 pages 
 per annum, less than 6 pages a month. Also, if the Shake- 
 speare poetry was the only work of William Shakspere, 
 certainly he was not a voluminous writer. Thirty-one 
 years may be taken as a moderate estimate of the duration 
 of his literary life, i.e., from 1585 till his death in 1616. 
 And the result is, ^y plays and the minor poems, — not two 
 plays for each year. It is clear — as a matter of numerical 
 calculation, — that if the whole of Shakespeare and the
 
 40 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 whole of Bacon's acknowledged works belong to the same 
 author, the writer was not a voluminous author — not by 
 any means so voluminous as Miss Braddon or Sir Walter 
 Scott. 
 
 Therefore, let this objection stand aside ; it vanishes 
 into invisibility as soon as it is accurately tested. 
 
 5. — Bacon's Assurance of Immortality. 
 
 Bacon's confident assurance of holding a lasting place in 
 literature is one of the most striking features of his 
 character, and it marks him as specially endowed with the 
 poetic consciousness and temperament. In this respect 
 Bacon and Shakespeare are absolutely alike, and the bold 
 unhesitating assertion of this claim to immortality, which 
 is common to the two, is almost unparalleled in literature. 
 For, of all poets that ever lived, not one ever made more 
 confident appeals to posterity, never did any poet more 
 triumphantly discount the immortality of which he was 
 absolutely assured. If we only take the couplets of the 
 Sonnets, this assurance of lasting renown is more or less 
 clearly expressed in nearly a score of them — in Sonnets 
 15, 17, 18, 19, 54. 55, 60, 63, 65, 74, 81, 100, loi, 104, 107, 
 123. And in many of the Sonnets the vision of future 
 fame is the leading idea of the entire poem, as in 55, 63, 
 65, 74, 81, 100, and loi. 
 
 This very marked characteristic of the Sonnets is one of 
 the reasons for attributing to many of them a dramatic 
 character. The poet who was so proudly conscious of 
 future fame could not, in his own person, have written 71 
 and 72 ; the bold claimant to lasting renown could not 
 have said on his own account : — 
 
 For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, 
 And so should you, to love things nothing worth. 
 
 (Sonnet 72). 
 
 This mood, does not last long, for when we pass on to 
 the next Sonnet the dramatic entourage has changed.
 
 AMAZING SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 4I 
 
 Bacon is speaking for himself, and the very premature 
 consciousness of old age which led him, when compara- 
 tively a young man, to write, " I wax now somewhat 
 ancient ; one-and-thirty years is a great deal of sand in 
 the hour-glass," expresses its sense of antiquity in the 
 dejected minor strain, — 
 
 That time of year thou mayst in me behold 
 When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
 
 Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, 
 Bare, ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 
 
 (Sonnet 73). 
 
 But the strong grasp on futurity remains — we soon hear 
 the note of triumph mingling with the sense of physical 
 decay ; his " Line " will live after his body has passed 
 away: Let that which is to be "the prey of worms" 
 or the " coward conquest of a wretch's knife " — be 
 forgotten ; — 
 
 The worth of that is that which it contains 
 And that is this, and this with thee remains. 
 
 (Sonnet 74). 
 
 This anticipation of immortality is one of the most 
 characteristic marks of the poetic temperament, and the 
 same bold appropriation of future fame is remarkably 
 characteristic of Bacon. That proud appeal to posterity 
 which pervades the Sonnets (it could not have found 
 equally clear expression in the dramas or the other 
 poems) finds equally articulate voice in Bacon's will, 
 and in the frequent professions which he makes that his 
 writings are intended to secure "merit and memory" in 
 succeeding ages, even if he and they are neglected or 
 misunderstood by his contemporaries. There is a magnifi- 
 cent audacity in some of these declarations which is only 
 paralleled by the equally daring prophesies of these poems. 
 Perhaps the most remarkable of them all is one that has 
 not hitherto been specially noticed. In Bacon's Dedi- 
 cation of his " Advancement of Learning " to the King, he
 
 42 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 refers to the fortune and accomplishments of that variously 
 gifted monarch as uniting "the power and fortune of a 
 King, the knowledge and illumination of a Priest and the 
 learning and universality of a Philosopher ; " and then he 
 refers to his own work in these most astonishing terms : 
 "This propriety {i.e., property or characteristic), inherent, 
 and individual attribute in your Majesty, deserveth to be 
 expressed, not only in the fame and admiration of the 
 present time, nor in the history and tradition of the ages 
 succeeding, but also in some solid work, fixed 
 
 MEMORIAL, AND IMMORTAL MONUMENT, BEARING A 
 CHARACTER OR SIGNATURE BOTH OF THE POWER OF A 
 KING, AND THE DIFFERENCE AND PERFECTION OF SUCH 
 A KING. THEREFORE I DID CONCLUDE WITH MYSELF 
 THAT I COULD NOT MAKE UNTO YOUR MAJESTY A BETTER 
 OBLATION THAN OF SOME TREATISE TENDING TO THAT 
 END." 
 
 A more majestic and poetic anticipation of immortality 
 never issued from human pen. The magnificent egotism 
 is here sublime ; in almost every other case it would be 
 ridiculous. It could only have come from the same pen 
 which, a few years before, had written : 
 
 You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen) 
 
 Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men. 
 
 (Sonnet 8i.) 
 Or,- 
 
 Thou in this shalt find thy monument, 
 
 When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent. 
 
 {lb. 107.) 
 
 Not often in straightforward prose do we meet with the 
 Horatian vaunt : 
 
 Exegi monumentum rere perennius 
 Regalique situ pyramidum altius ; 
 Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens 
 Possit diruere, aut innumerabilis 
 Annorum series et f uga temporum.
 
 ANTICIPATIONS OF IMMORTALITY, 43 
 
 But Bacon is equal to this immense self-consciousness, 
 which, in an inferior writer, would be insufferable audacit}-. 
 There is nothing inconsistent with what we know of his 
 own self-estimation in supposing that he, and he alone in 
 that age, was capable of this proud utterance : 
 
 Not marble, nor the gilded ornaments 
 
 Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ; 
 
 But you shall shine more bright in these contents 
 
 Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. 
 
 When wasteful wars shall statues overturn. 
 
 And broils root out the work of masonry. 
 
 Not Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall lourn 
 
 The living record of your memory. 
 
 'Gainst death and all oblivious enmity 
 
 Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room 
 
 Even in the e3-es of all posterity, 
 
 That wear the world out to the ending doom.' — (55.) 
 
 The immortality which Bacon anticipated for himself 
 has certainly been achieved, and when his real relation to 
 the Shakespeare drama is accepted by the world, as it 
 assuredly will be, all that he claimed and prophesied will 
 be admitted. The tremendous tragedy of his fall still 
 blocks his way to the supremest throne of Parnassus. 
 Detraction and calumny still blacken his reputation. The 
 worst construction is put upon his faults, and his many 
 virtues and excellencies are forgotten or explained awa}'. 
 It will not be always so. 
 
 6. — Personal Characteristics. 
 
 I will venture to point out some passages in Shake- 
 speare which appear to me to reflect some of the personal 
 characteristics of Bacon. The accuracy and significance 
 of the resemblance will not at once commend itself to 
 every one, and I do not attach any great importance to 
 them. Let them be taken for what they are worth. 
 
 (i) One very curious habit of Bacon's seems to have 
 been to strike himself on the breast when he wished to put
 
 44 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 emphasis or solemnity into his utterance. In a speech in 
 Padiament in 1601, referring to the Queen's prerogative 
 "to set at liberty things restrained by statute-law, or 
 otherwise," he is reported to have said, " For the first she 
 may grant non-obsiantcs contrary to the penal laws, which 
 truly in my conscience {and so struck himself on the breast) 
 are as hateful to the subject as monopolies, ("Life," 
 III. 27.) 
 
 Brutus is represented as using a similar gesture when he 
 roused the Romans to revenge the death of Lucretia. 
 
 This said, he struck his hand upon liis breast, 
 And kiss'd the fatal knife, to end his vow. 
 
 {Liicnxc, 1842.) 
 
 Ophelia in her madness, 
 
 Hems and beats her heart. 
 
 {Ham. IV. V. 5.) 
 
 Clarence's little boy asks the Duchess of York, 
 
 Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast 
 And cry, " O, Clarence, my unhappy son ? " 
 
 {Rich. III. II. ii. 3.) 
 
 And Claudio represents Beatrice behaving in the same 
 way, 
 
 Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, 
 tears her hair, prays, curses. 
 
 {Much Ado, II. iii. 152.) 
 
 In the Return from Parnassus, which is I believe one of 
 the Shakespearean group, Studioso, describing the condi- 
 tions of his hired service, says that one of his obligations 
 was: "That I shoulde work all harvest time. And upon 
 this pointe the old churle gave a signe with a ' hemm ! ' 
 to the old householde of silence, and began a solem, 
 sencless oration against Idlenes, noddinge his head, knock- 
 inge his hande on his fatt breste" (2 Parn., 655). And in 
 another passage Amoretto laments that he "cannot walke 
 the streete for these needy fellowes, and that after there is
 
 BACON S SLIPPERY STANDING. 45 
 
 a Statute come out against begging." And then follows 
 the stage direction, ''He strikes his breast'' (3 Parn., 1684). 
 
 (2) There are many passages in Shakespeare which 
 carry the sombre colouring which darkened his life after 
 his fall. This may be traced in the portrait of Cardinal 
 Wolsey in Henry VHI. It is the pervading quality of the 
 play of Timon, one of those plays never heard of till its 
 publication in 1623. The sudden reverse of fortune from 
 the greatest magnificence and opulence to the most sordid 
 destitution, is exactly what Bacon experienced ; for after 
 his fall his condition of penury was like that of a suppliant 
 for alms ; " date obolum Belisario," he writes, " I that have 
 borne a bag can bear a wallet.'' The lavish generosity of 
 Timon, and his almost inexcusable carelessness about 
 money in the time of his prosperity, reflects a weakness, 
 almost amounting to a fault, strikingly characteristic of 
 Bacon. 
 
 Bacon's lament over his fall, and the sense of danger 
 which always accompanies greatness (a sentiment fre- 
 quently expressed at different periods of his life) is 
 abundantly reflected in Shakespeare. In 1612, when the 
 Essay of "Great Place" was published. Bacon wrote: 
 " The rising unto place is laborious, and by pains men 
 come to greater pains; and it is sometimes base, and by 
 indignities men come to dignities. The standing is 
 slippery, and the regress is either a downfall or at least 
 an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing." In 1603 Bacon 
 described the appointment of Essex to the command of 
 the army in Ireland as locus lubricus (see the "Essex 
 Apology"); the word is used by Tacitus, Cicero, and 
 other Latin authors in this sense, and this insecure or 
 "slippery" standing, with the subsequent "downfall or 
 eclipse " is often noticed in Shakespeare. 
 
 A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand 
 Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd; 
 And he that stands upon a slippery place 
 Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. 
 
 [■fohn III. iv. 135).
 
 46 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 They that stand high have many blasts to shake them, 
 And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. 
 
 (Rich. III. I. iii. 259). 
 
 O world, thy slippery turns ! " 
 
 {Cor. IV. iv. 12). 
 
 What ! am I poor of late ? 
 
 'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, 
 
 Must fall out with men too : what the declined is 
 
 He shall as soon read in the eyes of others 
 
 As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies. 
 
 Show not their mealy wings but to the summer; 
 
 And not a man, for being simply man, 
 
 Hath any honour, but honour for those honours 
 
 That are without him, as place, riches, favour. 
 
 Prizes of accident as oft as merit : 
 
 Which, when they fall, as being slippery standers, 
 
 The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, 
 
 Do one pluck down another, and together. 
 
 Die in the fall. 
 
 {Tro. Crcs. III. iii. 74). 
 
 Farewell, my lord; I as your lover speak. 
 
 The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. 
 
 (7;.. 214). 
 
 The art o' the court 
 
 As liard to leave as keep; whose top to climb 
 
 Is certain falling, or so slippery that 
 
 The fear's as bad as falling . , . which dies i' the search 
 
 And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph 
 
 As record of fair act; nay, many times. 
 
 Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, 
 
 Must court'sy at the censure : O boys, lliis story 
 
 The world may read in inc. . . . My report ivas once 
 
 First ivitli the best of note, &c. 
 
 [Cyinb. III. iii. 46 — 70). 
 
 When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, 
 Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, 
 W^hich labour'd after him to the mountain's top. 
 Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, 
 Not one accompanying his declining foot. 
 
 {Tiinon I. i. 84). 
 
 And the figure of an eclipse is one of Shakespeare's most
 
 BACON UNDER ECLIPSE. 47 
 
 usual metaphors for loss of reputation or position. Here 
 is a small collection of such metaphors. 
 
 No more be grieved at that which thou hast done; 
 
 Roses have thorns and silver fountains mud; 
 Clouds and ecHpses stain both moon and sun, 
 
 And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. 
 
 (Sonnet 35). 
 
 Nativity, once in the main of light, 
 
 Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, 
 
 Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, 
 
 And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. 
 
 (Sonnet 60). 
 
 Alack ! our terrene moon is now eclipsed. 
 
 Ant. CI. III. xiii. 153. 
 
 The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured. 
 
 (Sonnet 107). 
 
 (Referring evidently to Queen Elizabeth). 
 
 (3) Bacon's self-vindication is apparently secreted in 
 many passages in Shakespeare. In a letter to Buckingham, 
 written in the Tower, May 31st, 1621, Bacon writes: 
 " When I am dead, he is gone that was always in one 
 tenor, a true and perfect servant to his master, and one 
 that was never author of an}^ immoderate, no, nor unsafe, 
 no (I will sa}^ it), nor unfortunate counsel, and one that 
 no temptation could ever make other than a trusty, and 
 honest, and thrice-loving friend to your lordship." This 
 is not unlike Ariel's self-commendation to Prospero. 
 
 Remember, I have done thee worthy service, 
 Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings. 
 Without or grudge or grumbling. 
 
 {Tempest I. ii. 247). 
 
 One of the most striking of these vindicatory passages is 
 that spoken by Lord Say in 2 Henry VI. And it should 
 be noted that these lines did not exist in the early draft of 
 this play — the Contention. They were not given to the 
 world till 1623. Even up to i6ig the play was republished
 
 48 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 without these most significant additions. Lord Say is 
 pleading for his Hfe to Jack Cade and his murderous crew. 
 
 Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. 
 
 Justice with favour have I always done; 
 
 Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts could never. 
 
 (Observe, he does not say that he never received gifts, — 
 he admits that he had, — but only that his administration 
 of justice was never perverted or changed by them, that 
 they had not influenced him.) 
 
 When have I aught exacted at your hands, 
 But to maintain the king, the realm, and you ? 
 Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks, 
 Because my book preferr'd me to the king, 
 And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
 Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. 
 
 These cheeks are pale for watching for 3'our good. 
 Long silling to determine poor men's causes 
 Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. 
 
 Tell me wherein have I offended most ? 
 Have I affected wealth, or honour ? Speak ! 
 Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold ? 
 Is my apparel sumptuous to behold ? 
 Whom have I injured that ye seek my death ? 
 
 (2 Henry VI. IV. vii. 63 — no). 
 
 (4). One of the most significant characteristics recorded 
 of Bacon is his dramatic faculty. Mallet says of him, 
 "In his conversation he would assume the most differing 
 characters and speak the language proper to each with 
 a facility that was perfectly natural, for the dexterity of 
 the habit concealed every appearance of art." Osborn 
 speaks in still more striking terms : "I have heard him 
 entertain a country lord in the proper terms relating to 
 hawks and dogs, and at another time out-cant a London 
 chirurgeon." Now, is it not a little remarkable that a
 
 THE POET A NATURAL ORATOR. 49 
 
 precisely similar gift is attributed to Prince Hal : " I am 
 so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I 
 can drink with any tinker in his own language during 
 my life." (i Henry IV. II. iv. 19). In another respect 
 the Prince corresponds to the character of Bacon given 
 by his friends. His eloquence is described as so facile 
 and charming that "the ears of his hearers received more 
 gratification than trouble, and (they were) no less sorry 
 when he did conclude than displeased with any that did 
 interrupt him." (Osborn). Ben Jonson, in slightly 
 different words, says the same thing : — " The fear of every 
 man who heard him was lest he should make an end." 
 So the Prince is described : 
 
 " When he speaks, 
 The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, 
 And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
 To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences." 
 
 (Henry V. I. i. 47.; 
 
 The poet, whoever he was, in his portraiture of the 
 Prince must have drawn either upon his own observations, 
 or on his own experience of the dramatic and rhetoric 
 faculty, and its manifestations in private and public dis- 
 course ; and even if he was not conscious of self- 
 portraiture, yet if he was naturally an actor or an orator 
 the instance most opportune for his use was himself; 
 and doubtless fragments of self-portraiture must exist in 
 many of the characters which he has so graphically 
 drawn. The passages, however, just quoted are so 
 mmutely individual that they were undoubtedly more 
 applicable to Bacon than to any other man then living. 
 
 (5). There is another very curious reflection of Bacon's 
 character and temperament in the poem of Lucrcce. 
 Lucretia condemns herself to death for an offence which 
 has been forced upon her, for which she is not morally 
 guilty, yet which, through the stress of circumstances, 
 she has committed. She does not, however, seek to 
 justify, though she does to palliate, her crime. Like 
 
 E
 
 50 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Bacon, she renounces all defence, and submits to the 
 judgment of the court which condemns her, which in her 
 case is no other than herself. She knew, however, that 
 she was personally innocent, though involved in the 
 "unrecalling crime" of another person. Like Bacon, 
 while pleading guilty, she can interrogate her unstained 
 conscience — 
 
 What is the quaUty of mine offence, 
 
 Being constrain'd with dreadful circumstance ? 
 
 May my pure mind witli the foul act dispense, 
 
 My low-declined honour to advance ? 
 
 May any terms acquit me from this chance ? 
 
 The poison'd fountain clears itself again ; 
 
 And why not I from this compelled stain ? — 1702. 
 
 Even so Bacon, for some time after his condemnation, 
 expected to resume his ordinary functions as counsellor 
 to Parliament and adviser to the King after he had been 
 cleared from his "compelled stain." 
 
 In Bacon's fall one of the most remarkable features of 
 his case is the way in which he renounced all self-defence 
 and accepted the judgment pronounced against him. 
 "Your lordship," he writes to Buckingham, "spake of 
 purgatory. I am now in it, but my mind is in a calm, 
 for my fortune is not my felicity. I know I have clean 
 hands and a clean heart, and, I hope, a clean house for 
 friends and servants." And yet he will not ask for 
 acquittal on these grounds. He asks the Lords for a fair 
 trial, and for some convenient time "to advise with my 
 counsel, and to make my answer ; wherein nevertheless, 
 my counsel's part will be the least ; for I shall not, by the 
 grace of God, trick up an innocency with cavillations, but 
 plainly and ingenuously (as your lordships know my 
 
 manner is) declare what I know and remember 
 
 desiring no privilege of greatness for subterfuge of guilti- 
 ness." And to the King he writes: "I shall deal 
 ingenuously with your Majesty, without seeking fig-leaves 
 or subterfuges." Afterwards, to the Lords : " I do under-
 
 STRANGELY GUILTY INNOCENCE. 51 
 
 stand there hath been heretofore expected from me some 
 justification ; and therefore I have chosen one only justifi- 
 cation, instead of all other, one of the justifications of 
 Job ; for, after the clear submission and confession which 
 I shall now make unto your lordships, I hope I may say 
 and justify with Job in these words : ' I have not hid my 
 sin as did Adam, nor concealed my faults in my bosom.' 
 This is the only justification which I will use. It resteth, 
 therefore, that, without fig-leaves, I do ingenuously con- 
 fess and acknowledge that, having understood the 
 particulars of the charge, not formally from the House, 
 but enough to inform my conscience and memory, I find 
 matter sufficient and full both to move me to desert the 
 defence, and to move your lordships to condemn and 
 censure me." This was surely a most extraordinary 
 course for a man to take who knew that his hands and 
 conscience were clean, and superficial critics have been 
 often too ready to take him at his own word, without 
 any careful enquiry into what his words really imply, 
 or how they are connected with and interpreted by his 
 personal character and habits. One reason indeed for 
 his submission may be that he knew his case was not 
 being tried in a court of justice ; the verdict and sentence 
 would be put to the vote and determined by a show of 
 hands, and by the decision of a majority, most of whom 
 were absolutely ignorant of judicial procedure, and in- 
 capable of judicial deliberation, but were swayed by the 
 most vivid or recent impressions that party, or passion, 
 or plausible rhetoric might suggest. It might then be 
 politic to abandon anything like a scientific judicial plea, 
 and trust to the leniency which absolute surrender might 
 inspire. However this may be, such was the attitude he 
 assumed. Conscious (as he expressly said) of moral 
 innocence, he yet called for condemnation and censure 
 upon himself. Lucretia acted in precisely the same way. 
 She is speaking, in thought, to her husband : — 
 
 " For me, I am the mistress of my fate ;
 
 52 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 And with my trespass never will dispense, 
 Till life to death acquit my forced offence. 
 
 I will not poison thee with my attaint, 
 
 Nor fold my fault in cleanly-coin'd excuses ; 
 
 My sable ground of sin I will not paint. 
 
 To hide the truth of this false night's abuses ; 
 M}^ tongue shall utter all ; mine eyes, like sluices, 
 
 As from a mountain-spring that feeds a dale. 
 
 Shall gush pure streams to purge my impure tale." 
 
 — 1069-78. 
 
 Subsequently, when her husband and his companions 
 are present, 
 
 " 'Few words,' quoth she, 'shall fit the trespass best, 
 Where no excuse can give the fault amending : 
 In me moe woes than words are now depending.' " 
 
 — 1613. 
 
 Lucretia's self-justification is, however, the same as 
 Bacon's : — 
 
 " O teach me how to make mine own excuse ! 
 
 Or at least this refuge let me find ; 
 Though ni}^ gross blood be stain'd with this abuse. 
 
 Immaculate and spotless is my mind. 
 
 That was not forced ; that never was inclined 
 To accessor}' yieldings, but still pure 
 Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure." 
 
 Her friends try to console her and to turn the edge of 
 her self-condemnation. 
 
 " 'No, no,' quoth she, 'no dame, hereafter living, 
 B}' my excuse shall claim excuse's giving.' " 
 
 —1714. 
 
 Bacon finds similar reasons for gladness in the depth of 
 his grief: "The first is (he writes) that hereafter the great- 
 ness of a judge or magistrate shall be no sanctuar}^ or 
 protection of guiltiness which, in a few words [a very 
 frequent phrase with Bacon, and in Shakespeare it is
 
 bacon's case anticipated. . 53 
 
 equally frequent] is the beginning of a golden world." 
 Both Lucrece and Bacon contract their self-defence into 
 "few words." These lines from Lucrece are very interest- 
 ing as showing how true to himself Bacon was from the 
 beginning to the end of his life, and that the heroic self- 
 immolation, which he pictured with such graphic and 
 poetic touches in Lucrece, more than thirty years before 
 his fall, was the temper of his own mind, which he was 
 quite ready to carry into action whenever the time for its 
 application might come. 
 
 Here is a remarkable anticipation of Bacon's own case. 
 His censors often sa}^ — a distinguished Barrister, now a 
 Judge, used such language in writing to me, — " You see, 
 he confesses himself to be guilty ; what more can you 
 want ? " The reply is, — Lucrece also made a like con- 
 fession ; she also found matter sufficient and full to move 
 her to desert her defence, and require the Court to con- 
 demn her. And yet her fault was entirety constructive, — 
 it left her with clean hands and clean heart. Her friends 
 entreated her to pardon herself. 
 
 " With this they all at once began to say 
 Her body's stain her mind untainted clears." 
 
 —1709. 
 
 She rejects the plea, and without cavillations or fig- 
 leaves surrenders herself to the doom she has pronounced 
 on herself. 
 
 Other very curious personal traits will be illustrated in 
 the next two chapters.
 
 54 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 / CANNOT TELL. 
 
 There is a phrase occurring in the opening of Bacon's 
 Essay of "Truth"— the first in the immortal Volume — which 
 may sound strange and only half intelligible when first 
 read. This is the passage : — The Essayist is remarking on 
 " the difficulty and labour which men take in finding out 
 of truth," and the bondage which when found it 
 " imposeth upon men's thoughts," which leads men to 
 prefer their own false ideas to the substitutes which know- 
 ledge supplies. Not only does this bring lies into favour, 
 but there is "a natural though corrupt love of the lie 
 itself." And then he proceeds : " One of the latter school 
 of the Grecians examineth this matter and is at a stand to 
 think what should be in it, that men should love lies, 
 where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets ; nor 
 for advantage, as with the merchant ; but for the lie's sake. 
 But I cannot tell." The Latin has Sed nescio quo inodo. 
 This phrase, / cannot tell, at first staggers the reader. 
 It is not that the puzzle baffles the writer, for he immedi- 
 ately proceeds to give a very beautiful and poetical 
 solution of it, adding, " This same truth is a naked and 
 open daylight, that doth not show the masques, and 
 mummeries and triumphs of the world half so stately and 
 daintily as candle-lights. " Bacon's meaning is easily mis- 
 understood : — the reader may say, what I have heard from 
 the lips of a noble and accomplished lady, "I don't agree 
 with Bacon: No one loves a lie for its own sake." The 
 lies, or fictions to which Bacon refers are not vulgar fibs, but 
 philosophical conceits, speculative inventions taking the
 
 A POETIC FICTION. 55 
 
 place of Nature's facts and laws. And the expression, 
 " I cannot tell," may be taken as an articulate sigh, a sort 
 of Heigh-ho ! Well-a-day ! Oh dear, dear ! in which the 
 languid expression of defeat is more apparent than real. 
 He does not quite mean what he says, there is in the 
 exclamation a sort of poetic insincerity, as if he were him- 
 self in propria persona supplying an instance to illustrate 
 his thesis. For he can tell, and does tell as we have seen 
 in the next sentence. Let this be well noted: the collapse 
 of judgment apparently expressed by the phrase, I cannot 
 tell, is not real, it is assumed, a poetic fiction, a dramatic 
 disguise, a closed door to be opened for surprise, a 
 momentary affectation of helpless embarrassment, which 
 makes the subsequent return to intellectual vigour and 
 sufficiency all the more striking. That this is the con- 
 scious, almost technical meaning of the phrase may be 
 clearly shown by some Shakespearean instances, one shew- 
 ing its use, others its abandonment. The mode of using the 
 phrase is clearly explained by Scarus, Anthony's faithful 
 friend, when his fortunes were lowest ; evil portents 
 threaten him, and those whose business is to interpret 
 them, shrink from disclosing their import. 
 
 Swallows have built 
 In Cleopatra's sails their nest ; the augurers 
 Say they know not, ihey cannot tell ; look grimly 
 And dare not speak their knowledge. 
 
 {Ant. and Clco., IV. xii. 4.) 
 
 Evidently, I cannot tell is the formula of evasion, or 
 insincerity : the augurers cannot, only because they dare not. 
 
 The case of abandonment is to be found in the 2nd part 
 of the old play the Contention, i.e., The True Tragedy: 
 in which the following passage occurs : 
 
 We at Saint Albons met, 
 Our battles ioinde, and both sides fiercelie fought. 
 But, whether twas the coldness of the King, 
 He lookt full gentlie on his warlike Queen, 
 That robde my souldiers of their heated spleene,
 
 56 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Or whether twas report of his successe, 
 
 Or more than common feare of CHffords rigor, 
 
 Who thunders to his captaines blond and death, 
 
 / cannot tell. {True Tragedy, II. i. 87.) 
 
 The same passage, with a few verbal alterations, (such 
 as her success for his ; captives for captains) occurs in 3 
 Henry VI. II. i. 120. But instead of / cannot tell, we find 
 I cannot ji^dge. The reason is plain. For here the per- 
 plexity is not simulated, it is real ; the alternatives pre- 
 sented are all possible, all reasonable, and all cannot be 
 true. The speaker has no means of selecting the true 
 alternative, the suspense is genuine, accordingly the phrase 
 which is only to be used for a mock perplexity is changed 
 for one that expresses a real doubt. 
 
 The incorrect version was printed in the three quartos, 
 1595, 1600 and 1619. The amended version appeared first 
 in 1623, seven years after the death of William Shakspere. 
 A similar change was made in the 1623 Edition of the 
 Merry Wives, as compared with the two quartos of 1602 
 and 1619. 
 
 Slender. — Have you bears in your town. Mistress Anne, 
 that your dogs bark so ? 
 
 Anne. — I cannot tell, Mr. Slender : I think there be. (I. i. 83.) 
 
 This is plainly not an occasion for "I cannot tell : " it 
 had slipped in accidentally. Accordingly the Folio has, 
 
 Anne. — I think there are. Sir, I heard them talked of. (I. i. 298.) 
 
 If an authentic version of these plays existed in i6ig, 
 why was the incorrect passage then re-published, why 
 wait till 1623 for the right version ? Doubtless the change 
 was made by the author after 1619. 
 
 In nearly all other cases the mental attitude of the Essay 
 of "Truth " is reflected. Thus Richard, as Duke of Gloster, 
 is reproached by the Queen of Edward IV., for his bitter 
 aversion to herself and her family. Why does he hate 
 them so ; and with a shrug of mock perplexity he replies,
 
 FORMULA OF FARCE AND MELODRAMA. 57 
 
 I cannot tell ; and the fantastic explanation follows, as in 
 the Essay, 
 
 I cannot tell. The world is grown so bad 
 
 That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch : 
 
 Since every Jack became a Gentleman 
 
 There's many a gentle person made a Jack. 
 
 (Richard III., I. iii. 70.) 
 
 This passage may be compared with two entries in 
 Bacon's " Promus : " " Jack would be a gentleman if he 
 could speak French " (No. 640) ; and, '' There is no good 
 accord where every Jack would be a lord " (No. 968). 
 
 In Falstaff's exquisitely amusing cut and thrust encounter 
 with the Lord Chief Justice, a similar use of / cannot tell 
 helps his persiflage. His Lordship says, "You follow the 
 young prince up and down, like his evil angel." The 
 wicked old jester purposely mistaking the word angel for 
 the coin of the same name, retorts, " Not so, my lord, your. 
 ill angel is light ; but I hope he that looks upon me will 
 take me without weighing. And yet, in some respects, I 
 grant, I cannot go," {i.e., I cannot pass current for the 
 good coin I really am). " I cannot tell. Virtue is of so 
 little regard in these costermonger times that true valour 
 is turned bear-herd," {i.e., I am the keeper of this young 
 cub.) " Pregnancy [intellectual capacity] is made a 
 tapster and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckon- 
 ings." (2 Hen. IV., I. ii. 185.) The technical Baconian 
 sense of, I cannot tell, requires here to be kept in mind ; 
 for a very capable commentator paraphrases it as equivalent 
 to, " I cannot pass — in counting." But this is already 
 expressed by, " I cannot go." / cannot tell is the proper 
 prelude to a farcical and hypocritical explanation which 
 the speaker flings at his interlocutor. 
 
 Another case is found in N3^m's speech referring to 
 Pistol's marriage with Dame Quickly. Nym is very morti- 
 fied, — he is jilted, and vows in melodramatic inuendo all 
 sorts of sanguinary vengeance, too dreadful to be described. 
 He, too, is at a stand (like the Essayist), to know what
 
 58 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 special atrocity is impending ; he will not trust himself to 
 say, it is a little past his control, and the formula of mock 
 perplexity is required at both ends of his speech. "/ 
 cannot tell : things must be as they may. Men may sleep ; 
 and they may^have their throats about them at that time : 
 and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may : 
 though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There 
 must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell." {Hen. V. II. 
 i, 22.) 
 
 Again, Benedict, who mocks at lovers, speculates 
 whether he shall ever himself fall in love, and be as 
 ridiculous as Claudio. He is evidently quite sure that such 
 an absurdity can never happen ; yet he is willing to trifle 
 with the idea: and accordingly he exclaims, " May I be so 
 converted, and see with these eyes ? I cannot tell : 1 think 
 not : I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an 
 oyster ; but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an 
 oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool." 
 (M. Ado. II. iii. 23.) The mockery is perfect, and its 
 typical formula accurately used. So Shylock answers 
 Antonio : They had been speaking of Jacob's manoeuvre 
 to enrich himself at Laban's expense, and Antonio asks, 
 
 Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
 Or is 3'our gold and silver ewes and rams ? 
 
 Shylock shrugs his shoulders with affected embarrassment 
 and replies, 
 
 / cannot fell ; I make it breed as fast. 
 
 {Mcr. v., I. iii. 95.) 
 
 Sometimes the expression occurs in serious discourse, 
 but the feigning characteristic is always present ; there is 
 some extravagance or fancy with which the speaker is 
 intellectually toying. Thus the wounded soldier who des- 
 cribes the heroism of Macbeth and Banquo in battle, says, 
 
 Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, 
 
 Or memorize another Golgotha, 
 
 / cannot tell. {Macb. I. ii. 39.)
 
 BACON ALSO CANNOT TELL, 59 
 
 This is his way of picturing a bravery almost incredible, 
 apparently impossible. 
 
 Desdemona also, maddened by Othello's reproaches, 
 yet tries to find some excuse for his unnatural cruelty ; 
 accordingly she invents an excuse which she does not 
 believe, but which is as good as any other ; she affects to 
 think his treatment of her a sort of mistaken nursery 
 discipline : — 
 
 / cannot tell : those that do teach young babes, 
 
 Do it with gentle means and easy tasks, 
 
 He might have chid me so. {0th. IV., ii. iii.) 
 
 The poet seems to think the phrase a little compro- 
 mising, too likely to betray his incognito, and accordingly 
 varies it in some passages. The substituted phrases are less 
 forcible. / ivot not what is to be found in Rich. II., 
 II. i. 250, and still more rugged is the substitute, I stagger 
 in {Measure for Measure, I. ii. i6g.) 
 
 In Bacon's prose the same trick of speech occurs 
 repeatedly. In one case there is a plain indication that 
 there is more of the will not than the can not in the import 
 of it. Thus in the Essex Apology, he speaks of rumours 
 which arose when Essex was com.mitted to the custody of 
 the Lord Keeper. Bacon at that time had frequent occa- 
 sions for conference with the Queen, " about the causes of 
 her revenue and law business," and these interviews were 
 misconstrued. "It was given out that I was one of them 
 that incensed the Queen against my Lord of Essex, These 
 speeches / cannot tell, nor I will not think, that they grew 
 from the Queen herself." In this sentence, I cannot tell — 
 as equivalent to I will not think,— is precisely similar to the 
 passage quoted from Antony and Cleopatra^ in which, I 
 cannot tell, I know not, is represented as equivalent to, I 
 dare not speak. Invariably the note of insincerity or 
 reserve, or non-committal, is to be found. He evidently 
 thinks "these speeches " did come from the Queen, but 
 refuses to say so distinctly, and affects a perplexity which
 
 6o SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 he does not entirely feel. As to other rumours, he uses 
 similar language : he had heard, " that while in^^ Lord was 
 in Ireland, I revealed some matter against him, or / cannot 
 tell ivhat." In these cases a certain contempt is expressed. 
 So it is in some other cases, for in narrating his altercation 
 with Lord Coke, he relates how, "AVith this he spake 
 nei',her I nor himself could tell what, as if he had been 
 born Attorney General ; " and at a later period, when 
 Bacon was Lord Chancellor, and Coke as Lord Chiei 
 Justice was trying to make his own Court supreme and 
 penalize all appeals against its decisions. Bacon with quiet 
 scorn says, "Wherein your Lordship may have heard a 
 great rattle, and a noise of prcEumnire and I cannot tell 
 what.'" 
 
 In Bacon's speeches the phrase often occurs. In that 
 referring to the naturalization of Scotch subjects, he dis- 
 courses on the strength to be gained by union, and on the 
 greater security to be found in the bravery of men, than in 
 such stores of wealth as Spain had hoarded : — 
 
 " If I should speak to you mine own heart, methinks we 
 should a little disdain that the nation of Spain , . . 
 should dream of a Monarchy in the West . . . only 
 because they have ravished from some wild and unarmed 
 people, mines and store of gold : and on the other hand, 
 that this Isle of Britanny, seated and manned as it is, and 
 that hath, I make no question, the best iron in the world, 
 that is, the best soldiers in the world, should think of 
 nothing but reckonings, and audits, and mcuni and timm, 
 and / cannot tell what." He brushes aside all these un- 
 worthy notions of security by scornfully ignoring them, 
 and affecting ignorance of them. 
 
 Bacon's charge touching Duels reflects the same noble 
 scorn of the ceremonies and technicalities attending these 
 deadly quarrels, as we find in Romeo and Juliet, in .4s You 
 Like It, and other plays ; and here also Bacon's formula of 
 scornful incredulity is found. 
 
 " But I say the compounding of quarrels which is other-
 
 CEREMONIOUS SELF-DEPRECIATION. 6l 
 
 wise used by private noblemen and gentlemen it is so 
 punctual," {i.e., so full of punctilios), "and hath such 
 reference and respect unto received conceits — what's 
 beforehand, and what's behind, and I cannot tell what, as 
 without all question doth in a fashion countenance and 
 authorize the practice of duels, as if it had in it something 
 of right." 
 
 Justice Shallow talks about duels in much the same 
 way, — " In these times you stand on distance, your passes, 
 stoccadoes, 2in6. 1 know not what.''' {Merry Wives II. i. 233). 
 
 The same use of the phrase, I cannot tell, is to be found 
 in Bacon's letter to the king about cloth monopolies. 
 (" Life," V. 258). In his " Observations on a Libel," I. 198; 
 his "Charge against Talbot " V. 6, in that against Oliver 
 St. John V. 145, &c. 
 
 This phrase is specially adapted to the ceremonious and 
 polite style of fictitious self-depreciation characteristic of 
 the time. Such is the language proper to dedications, 
 where it is to be found more than once. Thus the dedica- 
 tion of the Novum Organuni to the king begins as follows : 
 
 "Your Majesty may perhaps accuse me of larceny, 
 having stolen from your affairs so much time as is required 
 for this work. I cannot tell,''' " non habeo quod dicam : " 
 but, as usual, the self vindication is ample and triumphant. 
 
 The dedication of ' ' The Wisdom of the Ancients " to the 
 Universit}' of Cambridge supplies another instance. Bacon 
 professes to give back what he has already received, 
 " that with a natural motion it may return to the place 
 whence it came. And yet — I cannot tell, — there are few 
 footprints pointing back towards you, among the infinite 
 number that have gone forth from you." The Latin here 
 is, "Et tamen, nescio quo modo," the same phrase which 
 is employed in the Latin version of the Essay of "Truth." 
 He proceeds to explain how the results of University study 
 do really return to their source, and add to the credit and 
 power of the teacher from whom they were derived. And, 
 singularly enough, the same trick of speech or fashion of
 
 62 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT, 
 
 complimentary self-abasement is seen in the dedication of 
 Venus and Adonis to the Earl of Southampton. The 
 same hand that dedicated the Novum Organum to the king 
 that he might "make this age famous to posterity," may 
 surely be seen in the words addressed to the patron of 
 the youthful poet : " Right Honourable, I know not how 
 [Latinized, it might be ' nescio quo modo ? '] I shall offend 
 in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, noy 
 how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop 
 to support so weak a burden ; " but he seems to have 'b 
 notion that his work will "always answer your own wish 
 and the world's hopeful expectation." The feigned un- 
 worthiness of the "unpolished lines," only covers a proud 
 consciousness that his poem is destined to be immortal. 
 
 Here, then, is a very remarkable trick of speech, quite as 
 remarkable as any other personal feature, such as the tone 
 of voice which identifies a speaker on the doorstep before 
 he has entered the house, or the limping gait which helps 
 recognition across the street. And I am strongly disposed 
 to look upon it as a family feature inherited by Bacon from 
 his mother. Readers of Bacon's biography will remember 
 how his mother was troubled by his habits of studious 
 seclusion, late hours, secret musings "Nescio quod," as 
 she puts it — studying I cannot tell what. 
 
 The substituted phrase which we find in Richard III., 
 I wot not wot, is employed in one of her scornful moods, 
 ("Life," L 115) and I cannot tell, is found several tmies in 
 her letters. (" Life," L 114. Dixon's " Personal History," 
 pp. 311, 317, 331). 
 
 A Promus Note (1060) has " Nescio quid meditans 
 nugarum, totus in illis ; musing on trifles, I know not 
 what, and quite absorbed in them. ("Horace Sat." 1. ix. 2). 
 This points to a classic origin for Lady Bacon's style of 
 making her complaint. It shows where the expression 
 circulating in the family came from. 
 
 I may refer to another side light on this curious little 
 phrase. The word tell, associated with the auxiliary ca7i,
 
 LIGHTS AND SHADOWS IN ONE PICTURE. 63 
 
 cajt tell, seems to be the selected phraseology for a mock- 
 ing usage ; and in the slang of rustic jargon it becomes, 
 "Ah, when! can'sttell?" a taunting challenge equivalent 
 to some such phrase as don't yoii wish you may get it ? 
 This is the reply of the carter when requested for a loan of 
 his lantern (i Hen. IV., II. i. 43), and of the servant 
 Luce, who refuses to open the door in reply to the knock- 
 ings outside. {Comedy of Errors III. i. 53). Precisely the 
 same phrase is found in Marlowe's ii^te-^r^ 77., II. v. 57, 
 and in the revised edition of " Faustus," published 1616, 
 twenty-three years after the reputed author's death (Sc. ix.). 
 There can be no reasonable doubt that Bacon was the 
 writer of all these passages. The commentators speak of 
 the phrase as a current colloquial vulgarism, but I know of 
 no proof that it was used by any speaker outside these 
 dramas. 
 
 Looking at the phrase as connected with the special 
 characteristics of Bacon's mind, it seems to reflect his 
 fondness for putting his ideas into a sort of masquerade, 
 marshalling them in contending or contrasting ranks. The 
 same mental tendency is seen in his habit of drawing up a 
 series of "Antitheta," showing the pros and contras of a 
 subject, allowing his mind to play with both sides, balanc- 
 ing the affirmative and negative arguments, and pleasing 
 his poetical fancies with varying cross-lights. It is in- 
 teresting to watch the same mental attributes grandly 
 philosophizing in the stately meditations of the " De 
 Augmentis," and toying with Falstaffian fancies in East- 
 cheap. The same nimbleness of intellect, the same 
 exuberance of fancy and brilliancy of wit is shewn in both 
 cases. It recalls his own axiom of sunshine everywhere- 
 lighting up cloacae, cottages and castles with identical 
 beams.
 
 64 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 COMPANIONSHIP IN CALAMITY. 
 
 Bacon's fall from the loftiest heights of place and dignity 
 to the lowest depths of calamity and disgrace is one of the 
 most tragic events in personal history ever recorded. The 
 pity and the pathos of it is infinite. He was unprepared 
 for it. No qualms of conscience, no inward self-reproach, 
 no consciousness of hidden crime and vulnerable circum- 
 stance, no shrinking from scrutiny, no sense of approach- 
 ing calamity disturbed his righteous security. Even when 
 the bolt had fallen, he professed that he had " clean hands 
 and a clean heart," he had nothing to fear from the fullest 
 exposure of all he had done. The absence of all premoni- 
 tory signs must on the subsequent retrospect have surprised 
 him, and contradicted some maxims of his philosophy. 
 He was accustomed to think that. 
 
 Before the times of change, still is it so : 
 By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust 
 Ensuing dangers ; as, by proof, we sec , 
 
 The waters swell loeforc a boisterous storm. 
 
 {Rich. III. II. iii. 41). 
 
 But it was not so in his case : 
 
 No cloudy show of stormy, blustering weather 
 Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear. 
 
 (Lucrcce, 115). 
 
 It is well to remark how closely the storm signals of 
 Shakespeare and Bacon correspond. In the Essay of 
 " Seditions and Troubles" we read, " As there are certain 
 hollow blasts of wind and secret swellings of seas before a
 
 . BACON SEES NO STORM PORTENTS. 65 
 
 tempest, so there are in States; " and then he enumerates 
 such foreshadows of change as are most graphically 
 described in John IV. ii. 143 — 152, 185 — 202. This is the 
 kind of "swelling in the State, which is signified by the 
 infancy of Typhon." (" Wisdom of the Ancients," II.), The 
 swelling of the sea before a storm is frequently referred to. 
 "It is likewise everywhere observed that waters somewhat 
 rise and swell before storms." "The sea swelling silently 
 and rising higher than usiial in the harbour, or the tide com- 
 ing in quicker than ordinary, prognosticates wind." " Hist, 
 of Winds " (Works V, 161 ; 193). "It has likewise been 
 remarked that sometimes the sea swells, not at the time of 
 the flood, and with no external wind. And this generally 
 precedes some great storm."" ("Hist. Dense and Rare," 
 V. 360). 
 
 The expositor of the Philosophia Prima certainly would 
 not say that the kind of premonition of catastrophe which 
 precedes tempests in States does not attend personal 
 disaster. Such portents really existed in his case, but Bacon 
 was too blameless and too unsuspicious to see them, 
 nothing to indicate that such portents appeared to him. 
 Even when the nature and reality of his peril became 
 manifest, he had no moral guilt to confess, only a venial 
 carelessness. Absolutely just himself, he yet discovered 
 to his astonishment that he had become constructively 
 corrupt, and he fell, never to rise again in the State. It 
 was a blow which would have crushed anyone less 
 endowed with heroic endurance, and with feebler resources 
 in discovering motives of consolation. 
 
 My object in recalling these well-known facts is to point 
 out a very remarkable kind of consolation which Bacon 
 found in his grief. He sought solace in many ways; he 
 found it in his religion, in strenuous literary work, in sym- 
 pathy and friendship, and in philosophy or contemplation. 
 This last method of obtaining comfort — by contemplation 
 — deserves careful study: it is both singular and charac- 
 teristic. Bacon found relief by a sense of fellowship with 
 
 F
 
 66 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 great men of former times, who had suffered in the same 
 way. By a strong effort of imagination he summoned into 
 his presence the mighty dead, whose griefs had been hke 
 his own, and found a noble comfort in their society. 
 
 There is something very interesting and very unusual in 
 this mental attitude; it sounds more like a dream of poetry 
 than a fact of experience. It could only be possible for a 
 mind in whom the dramatic, realising faculty was naturally 
 and exceptionally strong, and highly cultivated. That 
 Bacon could and did thus take refuge in an ideal world, 
 his own letters testify, and in one of them he gives a philo- 
 sophic statement of the principle. In 1622, a year after 
 his fall, he wrote a Discourse touching a Holy War, a war 
 against the Turk, and prefaced it by a dedication to his 
 dear and trusted friend, Dr. Lancelot Andrews, Bishop of 
 Winchester. This dedication opens as follows: — 
 
 "My Lord, — Amongst consolations it is not the least 
 to represent to a man's self like examples of calamity in 
 others. For examples give a quicker impression than 
 argument ; and besides, they certify us that which the 
 Scriptures also tendereth for satisfaction, that no new thing 
 is happened unto us. This they do the better by how much 
 the examples are liker in circumstances to our own case ; 
 and more especially if they fall upon persons that are 
 greater and worthier than ourselves. For as it savoureth 
 of vanity, to match ourselves highly in our own conceit; so 
 on the other side it is a good, sound conclusion, that if 
 our betters have sustained the like events, we have the less 
 cause to be grieved. 
 
 " In this kind of consolation I have not been wanting to 
 myself; though as a Christian I have tasted (through God's 
 great goodness) of higher remedies. Having, therefore, 
 through the variety of my reading, set before me many 
 examples, both of ancient and later times, my thoughts (I 
 confess) have chiefly strayed upon three particulars, as the 
 most eminent and most resembling. All three, persons 
 that had held chief place of authority in their countries; all
 
 HISTORIC PARALLELS. 67 
 
 three ruined., not by war, or by any other disaster, but by 
 justice and sentence, as delinquents and criminals: all three 
 famous writers, insomuch as the remembrance of their 
 calamity is now to posterity, but as a little picture of night- 
 work, remaining amongst the fair and excellent tables of 
 their acts and works; and all three (if that were anything 
 to the matter) fit examples to quench any man's ambition 
 of rising again ; for that they were every one of them 
 restored with great glory, but to their further ruin and 
 destruction, ending in a violent death. These men were 
 Demosthenes, Cicero, and Seneca— persons that I durst 
 not claim affinity with, except the similitude of our 
 fortunes had contracted it." (" Life," VII. 371 ; Works, 
 VII. II). 
 
 Bacon pursues the comparison by giving details of the 
 separate cases, and comparing them with his own. 
 
 The same spirit is shewn in a letter to the King referring 
 to his fall : — 
 
 " Utar, saith Seneca to his master, niagnis excmplis, 
 nee me(Z fortnncF sed tucc. Demosthenes was banished for 
 bribery of the highest nature, yet was recalled with honour, 
 Marcus Livius was condemned for exactions, yet after- 
 wards made Consul and Censor. Seneca, banished for 
 ■divers corruptions, yet was afterwards restored, and an 
 instrument of that memorable Quinquennium Neronis. 
 Many more." ("Life," VII. 297). 
 
 Thus we see that, when Bacon was in trouble, his 
 shaping imagination gave actuality to the historic pictures 
 which his former studies had stored up in his mind, and 
 in musing on sorrows like his own, his own became less. 
 Surely here we have the most perfect, practical, and ideal 
 ■development of the poetic temperament — one of "imagi- 
 nation all compact." Never did it rise higher; it gave him 
 a new heaven and a new earth, and lifted him out of his 
 sordid surroundings into a supernal sphere, among princes 
 and consecrated presences. Like religion, it was the sub-
 
 68 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 stance and evidence of unseen things, a revelation of 
 celestial beauty. Here is his portrait: — 
 
 The poet's eye, in a tine frenzy rolling, 
 
 Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to lieaven; 
 
 And as imagination bodies forth 
 
 The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
 
 Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
 
 A local habitation and a name. 
 
 Such tricks hath strong imagination. 
 
 That if it would but apprehend some joy. 
 
 It comprehends some bringer of that joy. 
 
 (M. N. D. V. i. 12.) 
 
 This is a kind of sentiment which we might expect to 
 see condensed into an epigram, or shaped into a lyric, or 
 paraded as a piece of ostentatious defiance, or cheap 
 bravery, or used as a flourish by an unsmitten moralist, in 
 order to give literary interest and brightness to his 
 homilies on patience and resignation. But in these cases 
 it is a flower, not a fruit ; a picture, not a breathing, 
 living creature. Bacon makes it the very food of his. 
 suftering soul, and in this respect he stands alone among 
 all the sufferers memorized in history or biography. He 
 has, however, one absolutely similar copy, — and that is 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The poet " Shakespeare " was evidently a man of the 
 same type ; this secret source of solace continually pre- 
 sented itself to his mind, and he discourses of it in a 
 reflective philosophic style closely resembling Bacon's 
 letter to Bishop Andrews. The resemblance is striking, 
 both in thought and expression. 
 
 When we our betters see bearing our woes 
 
 We scarcely think our miseries our foes. 
 
 Who alone suffers, suffers most i' the mind, 
 
 Leaving free things and happy shows behind. 
 
 But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip 
 
 When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. 
 
 How light and portable my pain seems now, 
 
 When that which makes me bend, makes the King bow, 
 
 He childed as I fathered. {Lear III. vi. 109).
 
 THE PEDAGOGIC POET. 69 
 
 It is very interesting to note that this passage from Lear 
 is to be found only in the early quarto editions, published 
 many years before Bacon's fall. They were left out in the 
 1623 folio, probably because the}- are too didactic for the 
 passion of the play. The Clarendon Editor, Dr. W. Aldis 
 Wright, remarking on this omission, says, " Very properly 
 so ; there is nothing in the lines either of Shakespeare's 
 language or manner" — in which criticism I venture to 
 diifer from the learned Editor. So far as sentiment is 
 concerned, which is the deepest matter, it is very 
 characteristically Shakespearean, as the passages hereafter 
 cited will abundantly prove ; and so far as language is con- 
 cerned "Our betters" — with variation of pronoun — occurs 
 quite a dozen times (See ex.gr., Twjelfth Nighi I. iii. 125; As 
 You Like It II. iv. 68). Bending or bowing under suffer- 
 ing is Shakespearean : {Henry V. III. vi. 132 — 138). 
 " Childed and Fathered" is of course very Shakespearean. 
 Portia is proud that she is "so fathered and so 
 husbanded." See Abbott's " Shakespeare Grammar," 294. 
 Bacon's " Promus " contains a note which was utilized in 
 this passage, "Better to bow than break," No. 944; and 
 Bacon's " Hist. Hen. VII." has " The enterprise would either 
 bow to a peace or break in itself," (Works VI. 6g). And 
 surely the prosaic "manner" is very characteristic: — the 
 romance and passion of Romeo and Juliet is interrupted in 
 much the same way by Friar Laurence, in his soliloquy on 
 plants and their uses. R. G. White has an interesting 
 discussion on this very matter, — the prosaic, didactic 
 passages which intrude themselves into some of the most 
 poetic scenes, — and he very pertinently asks. Where shall 
 we stop, if we begin to mutilate Shakespeare for this 
 reason ? These dry, almost pedagogic utterances supply 
 instances of what Vernon Lee calls "Baconian thoughts in 
 Baconian language," and doubtless the critics would make 
 a present of them to Bacon, if they could do so " without 
 prejudice." These ponderous discourses belong to the 
 prosaic side of Bacon's nature, which is all that many critics
 
 70 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 can see ; for them he is a plodding, note-taking pedant and 
 nothing more. For Baconians it is satisfactory to find that 
 he does not always cast away his scholastic robe, even 
 when writing poetry ; and even when his style is most 
 ponderous, in his prose works, he is not to be mistaken for 
 anything but the Chancellor of Parnassus. But these 
 critical cavils are of minor interest, and our study suffers 
 arrest by their intrusion. 
 
 Let us now see how Shakespeare uses the same 
 sentiment. In Pericles, Cleon, the Governor of Tharsus, 
 when the city is being desolated by famine, says to his 
 queen, 
 
 My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, 
 And by relating tales of others' griefs 
 See if 'twill teach us to forget our own. 
 
 {Per. 1. iv. i). 
 
 Richard II. in the agony of his despair makes a similar 
 suggestion, 
 
 Of comfort no man speak . . . 
 For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground 
 And tell sad stories of the death of Kings. 
 
 {RicIi.II.lU.n. 144; 155). 
 
 In the Tempest the same kind of comfort from remem- 
 brance that others suffer in the same way is expressed, but 
 in a manner that is more easily paralleled with other poets. 
 Gonzalo says to Alonso, in order to comfort him, after the 
 shipwreck, in which not only the ship, but, as he sup- 
 poses, his son, are destroyed : — 
 
 Beseech you, sir, be merry ; you have cause, 
 
 So have we all, of joy ; for our escape 
 
 Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe 
 
 Is common ; every day some sailor's wife. 
 
 The masters of some merchant, and the merchant. 
 
 Have just our theme of woe ; but for the miracle, 
 
 I mean our preservation, few in millions 
 
 Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh 
 
 Our sorrow with our comfort. 
 
 {Temp. II. i. i — 9),
 
 TENNYSON AND SHAKESPEARE CONTRASTED. 7I 
 
 Tennyson refers to this same source of consolation, but, 
 unlike Bacon, he refuses to accept it : — 
 
 That loss is common does not make 
 My own less bitter, rather more: 
 Too common: never morning wore 
 
 To evening but some heart did l^reak. 
 
 [In Mem. vi.). 
 
 The contrast between Shakespeare and Tennyson shews 
 how the individuality of Shakespeare expresses itself, and 
 makes his musing something apart and characteristic. 
 Shakespeare makes Gonzalo appropriate the consolation : 
 Tennyson rejects it. The reason is that Shakespeare has 
 a philosophical mortgage on the sentiment, which puts it 
 to a special and a different use from that which Tennyson 
 finds in it. Bacon has, so to speak, ear-marked the senti- 
 ment, and set it aside for a distinct purpose. 
 
 A still more striking instance will be found in Henry V. 
 — more strikmg, I say, because the dramatic situation does 
 not suggest any need of making use of the imagination in 
 order to conjure up companions in misfortune. The King, 
 the night before the battle of Agincourt, visits his army, 
 that he may hearten them by his presence and courage. 
 He finds old Sir Thomas Erpingham, who by reason of 
 age and infirmity might have been justified in avoiding 
 field duty, and this dialogue ensues : — 
 
 Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham ! 
 A good soft pillow for that good white head 
 Were better than a churlish turf of France. 
 
 Erp. — Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better, 
 Since I may say, " Now lie I like a King." 
 
 K. Hen. — 'Tis good for men to love their present pains 
 Upon example; so the spirit is eased; 
 And when the mind is quickened, out of doubt. 
 The organs, though defunct and dead before, 
 Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move. 
 With casted slough and fresh legerity. 
 
 {Hen. V. IV. i. 13).
 
 72 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 This is quite as prosaic as the rejected passage in Lear, 
 and quite as Shakespearean. The reflection is very subtle 
 and philosophic; the comfort suggested is strange, and 
 could only have occurred to one who had mused in a 
 similar way before, and could amplify and vary the applica- 
 tion of an idea which he had often used in a more direct 
 and immediate way. This unexpected introduction of 
 an apparently inapplicable sentiment is curiously illustrated 
 by its singularly fanciful and almost distorted application to 
 a case in which the fellowship in woe suggested is of a 
 grotesque and impossible character. Juliet, when she 
 hears that Romeo is banished for the slaughter of Tybalt, 
 exclaims : — 
 
 " Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished ! " 
 That — " banished " — that one word " banished " 
 Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death 
 Was woe enough, if it had ended there : 
 Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship, 
 And necdly will be rank'd iviili other griefs, 
 Why follow'd not, when she said, " Tybalt's dead," 
 Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both. 
 Which modern lamentation might have moved ? 
 
 {Rom. -Jul. III. ii. 112). 
 
 This is indeed a singular flight of fancy for a weeping 
 bride. It is not a natural reflection suggested by her own 
 case; it is evidently, and expressly, an imported sentiment, 
 derived from experience of an entirely different character, 
 and only related to the actual case by deep metaphysical 
 analogy. As a part of the dramatic presentment it is justi- 
 fied — 'if such a lovely outburst of passionate wailing needs 
 justification — by the principle that the dramatic poet is 
 allowed to be the interpreter of the dim, half-realised, 
 quite inarticulate throbs of feeling that lie hidden in the 
 depths of the soul, incapable of shaping themselves, for 
 the sufferer himself, in any form of distinct utterance. The 
 poet can see, the distracted girl can vaguely feel, that her 
 extravagant lamentations over the banishment of her lover
 
 \ 
 
 FANCIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS. 'J'^ 
 
 would have been toned down into more restrained expres- 
 sion, if it could have been brought into comparison with 
 other types of sorrow. 
 
 This feature of Juliet's violent, unregulated grief brings 
 it into relation with the psychologic truth which she 
 expresses in words coloured by her own resentful sorrow : 
 "Sour woe delights in fellowship, and needly will be 
 ranked with other griefs." But evidently the perception 
 of this psychologic law has arisen out of a larger induction 
 than this situation can supply; for its reasoned exposition 
 it requires some such language as Bacon employed in his 
 letter to Bishop Andrews. It is strange that this induction 
 should have been made so early in his life— as if to pre- 
 pare him for the sad tragedy of his later years. 
 
 The same sentiment finds its place in comedy as well as 
 tragedy. Armado, the fantastical Spaniard, in love with 
 the peasant girl, in his agitation asks Moth, the lively 
 page, to gwQ^ him this singular comfort: — 
 
 Arm. — Comfort me, boy ! What great men have been in love ? 
 
 Moth. — Hercules, master. 
 
 Ann. — Most sweet Hercules ! More authority, dear boy ; name 
 more, and let them be men of good repute and carriage. 
 
 After other authorities have been quoted, Armado adds : — 
 
 I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my 
 digression by some might}^ precedent. 
 
 {Love's Laboiir''s Lostl. ii. 67; 120). 
 
 Another amusing application is given in the play by 
 Dumain, who, rather ashamed of himself for falling in 
 love, wishes that his companions might keep him in 
 countenance by following his example : — 
 
 O would the King, Biron and Longaville, 
 Were lovers too ! Ill to example ill 
 Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note, 
 For none offend where all alike do dote. 
 
 Longaville [advancing]. — Dumain, thy love is far from charity, 
 That in love's grief desir'st society. 
 
 {lb. IV. iii. 123).
 
 74 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The banished Duke, in As You Like It, finds similar 
 consolation : — 
 
 Thou sce'st we are not all alone unhappy ; 
 
 This wide and universal theatre 
 
 Presents more woeful pageants than tlic scene 
 
 Wherein we plav in. 
 
 {As You Like It II. vii. 136). 
 
 But the natural place for the sentiment is tragedy. One 
 of the most curious illustrations of its use is to be found in 
 Richard II's sohloquy when confined in Pomfret Castle. 
 In his solitude and desolation he seeks to "people this 
 little world " with creatures of his own imagination : and 
 when he has thus dramatized many of his thoughts, the 
 inevitable moral of solitary grief finds its expression : — 
 
 Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves 
 That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, 
 Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars, 
 Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame. 
 That many have and others must sit there ; 
 And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
 Bearing their own misfortunes on the back 
 Of such as have before endured the like. 
 
 (See Rich. II. V. v. i — 30). 
 
 Leontes, maddened by jealousy, comforts himself, in his 
 shameful agitation, by the thought that other husbands 
 have been as unfortunate as he. The passage is somewhat 
 unsavoury : see Winter's Tale, I. ii. igo — 207. 
 
 The Baconian method of summoning up a crowd of 
 instances in order to sustain the mind in patient endurance, 
 is most characteristically exemplified in the case of the 
 Duke of Suffolk, who has been captured by ruffians, who 
 take his life. He sees the fate that is impending and 
 comforts himself by the following curious use of historic 
 
 imagmation. 
 
 Come soldiers, shew what cruelty you can, 
 That this my death may never be forgot ! 
 Great men oft die by vile Bezonians ;
 
 GRIEF SEEKS THE COMPANY OF GRIEF. 75 
 
 A Roman sworder and banditto slave 
 Murder'd sweet Tulh' ; Brutus' bastard hand 
 Stabb'd Julius Cassar ; savage islanders 
 Pompey the Great ; and Suffolk dies by pirates. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV. i. 132). 
 
 The poem of Lucrece supplies illustrations of the same 
 sentiment. Lucretia in her agony calls up various pictures 
 of imaginary woe to sustain her. The philosophy of this 
 comfort is present to her mind ; — 
 
 So should I have co-partners of my pain ; 
 
 And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage, 
 
 As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage. 
 
 {Lticnxc 789J. 
 
 This line is a reflection of a Pronius entry. Bacon in his 
 notes for composition makes the following entry. Varioque 
 viam sermone levabat, No. 1015 : a Virgilian reminiscence. 
 Two other Promus notes refer to the same philosophy of 
 comfort : 454 and 945. 
 
 Lucrece dwells with sympathetic fellowship on the 
 images of woe painted by a "conceited painter," whose 
 subject is the Trojan War. The time thus spent with 
 "painted images" is a time of comparative relief. 
 
 Being from the feeling of her own grief brought 
 By deep surmise of others' detriment. 
 Losing her woes in shows of discontent. 
 It easeth som^e, though none it ever cured, 
 To think their doulour others have endured. 
 
 (Lucrece 1578J. 
 
 She finds no comfort but only added pain in the natural 
 symbols of joy : 
 
 The little birds that tune their morning's joy 
 Make her moans mad with their sweet melody ; 
 For mirth doth search the bottom of annoy ; 
 Sad souls are slain in merry compan}' ; 
 Grief best is pleased with grief"s society : 
 True sorrow then is feelingly sufficed 
 When with like semblance it is sympathized. 
 
 {Lucrece 1107).
 
 76 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The two lines quoted above (1580-81). It cascth some, etc., 
 are evidently a translation of a Latin proverb which 
 is found in Marlowe's FausUis, published in 1604, ten years 
 after the appearance of Lncrcce. Solamen miseris socios 
 habiiissc doloris. No one has, I believe, traced this motto 
 to any classic author : it was probably invented by the 
 author of Faiistus. How it came to appear in Lticrece is 
 an enigma which awaits its solution. It is, however, 
 worthy of note, that Marlowe is the only other poet, so 
 far as I know, who is accustomed to this kind of exercise 
 of the historic imagination. The typical expression of it 
 cannot be better exhibited than in a passage in Edward II. 
 The king finds himself embroiled with his great nobles in 
 consequence of his passionate attachment to his favourite, 
 Gaveston. He at once excuses his attachment, and 
 comforts himself in the troubles which it brings, by reflec- 
 tions of this character : — 
 
 The mightiest Kings have had their minions : 
 
 Great Alexander loved Hephasstion ; 
 
 The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept : 
 
 And for Patroclus stern Acliilles droop'd : 
 
 And not kings onh', but the wisest men : 
 
 The Roman TuUy lov'd Octavius ; 
 
 Grave Socrates, wild Alcibiades. 
 
 {Echvard II. I. iv. 390). 
 
 These lines come surely from the same pen as that 
 which wrote Suffolk's soliloquy before his assassination. 
 It is one of those passages in Marlowe which forced Mr. 
 J. Russell Lowell to exclaim, — " Surely one might fancy 
 that to be from the prentice hand of Shakespeare. It is 
 no small distinction that this can be said of Marlowe, for it 
 can be said of no other." It seems to me that an analogous 
 contact with Bacon may be traced. The same mental 
 attitude is seen as in the letter to Bishop Andrews. And 
 it is somewhat significant that Alexander's strong affection 
 for Hephsestion is referred to by Bacon in his "Advance- 
 ment," (Works HI. 310) ; and that the Promiis has a note 
 (No. 785) referring to the passion of Hercules for Hylas.
 
 THE SENTIMENT EXTENDED. "JJ 
 
 We may compare the above passage from Edward 11. with 
 the following from Bacon's Essay of " Friendship " :— " It 
 is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings 
 and monarchs set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we 
 speak : so great as they purchase it many times at the 
 hazard of their own safety and greatness. . . . And we 
 see plainly that this hath been done, not b}' weak and 
 passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic 
 that ever reigned." Bacon does not name the instances 
 that were doubtless present to his mind : he knew that he 
 had done so in his play of Edward II. 
 
 Bacon's use and extended application of this sentiment 
 is quite as remarkable as Shakespeare's. When the King 
 was overwhelmed with debt, and found a difficulty in 
 obtaining from Parliament the necessary supplies, Bacon 
 suggests for his comfort ; " Sure I am, nil novi accidit 
 vobis. It is no new thing for the greatest kings to be in 
 debt; and if a man shall parvis coniponere magna, I have 
 seen an Earl of Leicester, a Chancellor Hatton, an Earl of 
 Essex, and an Earl of Salisbury, all in debt ; and yet it 
 was no manner of diminution to their power or great- 
 ness." ("Life," IV. 313). 
 
 In the speech against enclosures, he probably pursued 
 the same line of thought, for in the " Meagre and obviously 
 inaccurate report," which is all that Mr. Spedding can 
 produce, Bacon says, referring to the overflow of popula- 
 tion in one place causing shrinking in another, "These 
 two mischiefs, though they be exceeding great, yet they 
 seem the less, because Qnce mala cum multis patimur leviora 
 videntur." ("Life," II. 82). 
 
 Again he uses the same philosophic comfort to extenuate 
 the misfortune of the Queen being unwedded and child- 
 less : — "Let them leave children that leave no other 
 memory in their times. Brutorum cEternitas sobolcs. 
 Revolve in histories the memories of happy men, and you 
 shall not find any of rare felicity, but either he died child- 
 less, or his line spent soon after his death, or else he was
 
 78 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 unfortunate in his children. Should a man have them to 
 be slain by his vassals, as the posthuuius of Alexander 
 the Great was ? or to call them his imposthumes as 
 Augustus Caesar called his? Peruse the catalogue! Cornelius 
 Sylla ; Julius Caesar ; Flavins Vespasianus ; Severus ; 
 Constantine the Great; and many more." (" Life," I. 140). 
 So much was it the habit of Bacon's mind to dwell on 
 this sentiment, that it turns up in most unexpected places. 
 Thus, in discoursing on the revival of classic learning 
 which was coincident with the Reformation, he thus con- 
 nects the two events: — "Martin Luther, conducted no 
 doubt by a higher Providence . , . finding his own soHtude 
 being no ways aided by the opinions of his own time, was 
 enforced to awake all antiquity, and to call former times 
 to his succours, to make a party against the present time. 
 So that the ancient authors, both in divinity and humanity, 
 which had long slept in libraries, began generally to be 
 read and revolved " ("Adv." Works, IH. 282). 
 
 It may be said that the sentiment thus copiously illus- 
 trated is a commonplace for all time. In its crudest 
 statement this may be the case. The current and more 
 usual form is beautifully expressed in Bacon's Essay of 
 *' Friendship : " "There is no man that imparteth his joys 
 to his friend, but he joyeth the more : and no man that 
 imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less." 
 It is, however, one note of genius that when it lights on a 
 current sentiment, the idea is ennobled, amplified, framed 
 in new settings, it receives the stamp and shrine of 
 majesty and gains new lustre and significance. Bacon 
 took this sentiment out of its isolation and by linking it to 
 his historic and dramatic imagination, re-created it. It is 
 a most singular and unprecedented comfort which Bacon 
 finds in his griefs. He is, as it were, in banishment, but 
 instead of surrendering himself to his sorrow and idly 
 bewailing his misfortune, his mental activity is directed 
 into a new channel ; he sets to work to explore the 
 country in which he is doomed to sojourn ; he sets it in
 
 Shakespeare's fancies and bacon's facts. 79 
 
 his "Study of Imagination," he surveys its extent, 
 observes its inhabitants, and marks all their circumstances, 
 conditions and occupations. This sort of solace seems too 
 fanciful to be of much practical use. These fantastic 
 dreams, we think, will surely melt away before genuine 
 misfortune, we never expect to see any one, except in melo- 
 drama, "sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the 
 death of kings." And yet we find the fallen statesman, on 
 whom Fortune has dealt her heaviest blows, sitting in his 
 study and telling sad stories of the fall of statesmen, 
 "bearing his own misfortunes on the back of such as have 
 before endured the like." It is a striking and most unex- 
 pected commentary on the dramatic situation. The moral 
 of it is, not to be too hasty in assuming that these dramatic 
 scenes are only "high fantastical." Bacon's life puts new 
 meaning into Shakespeare's art, and brings his most 
 peculiar fancies into the hard highway of human 
 experience.
 
 80 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF WONDER. 
 
 Bacon's " Philosophy of Wonder" is expounded in several 
 of his works, and it is in its full expression something 
 quite original and peculiar to himself, although its origin 
 may be partly found in Plato, Dr. Martineau, in his 
 " Types of Ethical Theory " (Vol. 11. p. 140), affirms that 
 the assumption of Plato that Wonder is the primitive 
 intellectual impulse, has perhaps its most emphatic expres- 
 sion in his Thesetetus, 155 D : where he says, " Wonder 
 is the special affection of a philosopher ; for philosophy 
 has no other starting point than this ; and it is a happy 
 genealogy which makes Iris the daughter of Thaumas," i.e. 
 adds Martineau, "which treats the messenger of the gods, 
 the winged thought that passes to and fro between heaven 
 and earth, and brings them into communion, as the child 
 of Wonder. Aristotle, in his more prosaic way, makes 
 the same assumption in his 'Metaphysics,' I. 2." 
 
 Bacon has nowhere given us a psychological system : 
 there are numerous discussions on isolated psychologic 
 questions scattered through his philosophical works, but no 
 general scheme. Like Plato, he considers that philosophy 
 starts from wonder. He has a Promus note (No. 227), 
 super mirari ccEperimt philosophari: after wondering, men 
 began to philosophize : when wonder ceases, knowledge 
 begins : a motto which is quoted, with humourous appli- 
 cation, in a letter to Mr. Cawfielde : "Life," II. 373. So 
 tar as the knowlege of God is concerned, wonder never 
 ceases, this knowledge cannot be attained by the contem- 
 plation of created things. "It is true that the contempla-
 
 WONDER PRECEDES KNOWLEDGE. 8l 
 
 tion of the creatures of God hath for End (as to the natures 
 of the creatures themselves) knowledge but as to the 
 nature of God, no knowledge, but wonder, which is 
 nothing else but contemplation broken off, or losing itself" 
 Val. Ter. (Works, III. 218). In the "Advancement," he 
 speaks in the same way, that " wonder is the seed of know- 
 ledge," "wonder is broken knowledge" (Works, III. 
 266, 267). So that wonder recedes, as knowledge advances, 
 wonder is antecedent — the essential starting point, which 
 is left behind when the start has been made. Bacon 
 generally refers to admiration, or wonder — for the two 
 words are identical, admiratio being the Latin for wonder, — 
 as implying a suspension of intellectual activity under the 
 spell of emotion. Thus he speaks of Queen Elizabeth's 
 skill in languages, by which, "She is able to negotiate 
 with divers ambassadors in their own languages : and that 
 with no small disadvantage unto them, who, I think, can- 
 not but have a great part of their wits distracted from their 
 matters in hand, to the contemplation and admiration of 
 such perfections" ("Life," I. 139). 
 
 Knowledge, Bacon says, comes by comparison of similar 
 things, " there is no proceeding in invention of knowledge 
 but by similitude." Consequently wonder arises when the 
 object contemplated cannot be brought into this relation 
 with anything else; ex. gr., "God is only self-like, having 
 nothing in common with any creature" (Works, III. 218). 
 And from this follows an extension of the theory of wonder 
 which is Bacon's most characteristic thought. The mere 
 fact that anything is unique, not related by simihtude to 
 anything else, although this is the special occasion for 
 wonder, yet it does not occasion wonder, unless it is also 
 rare : if it is familiar, wonder does not arise. As there are 
 miracles of nature, so there are miracles of art of which 
 " a collection or particular history " should be made. But 
 not only of "such masterpieces and mysteries of any art 
 which excite wonder." "For wonder is the child of 
 rarity ; and if a thing be rare, though in kind it be no way
 
 82 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 extraordinary, yet it is wondered at. While, on the 
 other hand, things which really call for wonder on account 
 of the difference in species which they exhibit as compared 
 with other species, yet if we have them by us in comm.on 
 use, are but slightly noticed." " Among the singularities 
 of nature, I place the sun, the moon, the magnet, and the 
 like, things in fact most familiar, but in nature almost 
 unique" {Nov. Org. II. 31). 
 
 It is essential to observe that in Bacon's Latin, admiratio 
 is the word for wonder : Admiratio est proles raritatis ; and 
 we see that as what is rare is the occasion for wonder, so 
 what is common, or familiar, dispels it. Wonder is the 
 sentiment appropriate to miracles, which are a species of 
 monodica, singularities either of nature or art. And by the 
 contemplation of " rare and extraordinary works of nature," 
 or " excellent and wonderful works of art," " the mind is 
 excited and raised to the investigation and discovery of 
 Forms capable of including them," one of the principal 
 aims of science being the investigation of Forms : when 
 the Form of a thing is known, its cause is known. And, 
 says Bacon, " Causarum explicatio tollit miraculum " {Nov. 
 Org. I. 70) : Explanation of causes takes off, or removes, 
 the marvel. Miracles and wonders are, in Bacon's view, 
 phenomena whose cause is not known. Thus, the Second 
 Counsellor in the Gcsta Grayortim concludes his speech as 
 follows :— " When your Excellency shall have added 
 depth of knowledge to the fineness of your spirits and 
 greatness of your power, then indeed shall you be a 
 Trismegistus ; and then, when all other miracles and 
 wonders shall cease, by reason that you shall have dis- 
 covered their natural causes, yourself shall be left, the 
 only miracle and wonder of the world." (" Life" I. 335). 
 Bacon concludes one of his letters to King James with 
 this courtly compliment : — "Miracles are ceased, though 
 admiration will not cease while you live." ("Life "VI. 140). 
 
 The whole of this philosophy of wonder is most curiously, 
 most exactly reproduced in Shakespeare. The identity
 
 WONDER AND ADMIRATION EQUIVALENT. 83 
 
 between the two is at once suggested by the observation 
 that Shakespeare habitually uses the Latin word admiratio, 
 in its English form, as the synonym for wonder, as will be 
 evident in many of the passages to be quoted. At present 
 I may refer to such passages as the following : — In 
 Cranmer's prophecy relating to Elizabeth and James, in 
 Henry VIIL, he uses the following singular language : 
 
 Nor shall this peace sleep with her : but as when 
 The bird of wonder dies, — the maiden Phcenix, — 
 Her ashes new create anotlier heir, 
 As great in admiration as herself. 
 
 [Hen. VIIL V. v. 40). 
 
 Note here that the bird of wonder is the unique bird, the 
 rarit)'', the singularity of nature, the Phoenix. A similar 
 reference to the Phoenix occurs in Cymheline : 
 
 If she be furnished with a mind so rare, 
 She is alone the Arabian bird. 
 
 {Cymb. I. vi. 16). 
 
 The discovery of Perdita is described with the same 
 variation of language : " The changes I perceived in the 
 King and Camillo were very notes of admiration . . . 
 di notable passion of wonder a.ppea.red in them," {Winter's 
 Tale, V. ii. 11). 
 
 In Cymheline "a mark of wonder" is used for purposes 
 •of identification ; and the phrase can be so used, because 
 the mark is something rare or unique : 
 
 Guiderius had 
 Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star : 
 It was a mark of wonder. 
 
 {Cyiub. V. V. 365^ 
 
 Why a mole should be called a mark of wonder can only 
 be explained by Bacon's philosophy. 
 
 That wonder is the vestibule of knowledge — the senti- 
 ment that is left when we pass beyond the porch and 
 •enter the dwelling — is clearly, though not copiously,
 
 84 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 expressed in the dramas. In the interior masque of the 
 
 Midsiniimcr Nighfs Dream (V. i. 128) we find, 
 
 Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show : 
 But wonder on, iill initli makes all fliini^s plain. 
 
 Tlie same philosophical idea is expressed, rather cum- 
 brously, in Hymen's Hymn : 
 
 While's a wedlock hymn we sing, 
 Feed yourselves with qiieslioning, 
 That reason wonder inav diniinisi/. 
 
 {As Yon Like It, V. iv. 143). 
 
 The dissipation of wonder by the advent of knowledge is 
 curiously referred to in the following, where also wonder 
 and admiration are synonymous terms : — 
 
 Bring in the admiration ; that we, with thee, 
 May spend our wonder too; or take ojf thine 
 By wondering how thou took'st it. 
 
 {All's Well, II. i. 91). 
 
 The whole idea, and especially the remarkable expression, 
 take off thy wonder, seems to me a reflection of the Latin 
 explicatio causarum tollit miraculum : evidently some 
 reasonable explanation is the leverage which takes off 
 ( tollit) the wonder to which the speaker refers. 
 
 So again in Hamlet, when the rare, almost miraculous,, 
 visit of the Ghost is referred to, Horatio says, — 
 
 Season your admiration for a while, 
 With an attenl ear, till I may deliver, 
 Upon the witness of these gentlemen, 
 Tliis marvel to you. 
 
 {Hamlet, I. ii. 192). 
 
 It is worth noting that the quarto (1604) edition has the 
 word wonder, instead of marvel, in this passage. 
 
 That wonder is the seed of knowledge, is implied in all 
 these passages. That it is broken knowledge is expressed 
 in many ways : especially by connecting silence, or hesi- 
 tating, uncertain speech, with wonder. Thus, Paulina,.
 
 WONDER AND SILENCE. 85 
 
 before the supposed statue of Hermione, says to the dumb, 
 wonder-strickeu onlookers, " I like your silence : it 
 the more shows off your wonder," {Winter's Tale. 
 V. iii. 21). So, Bacon begins his discourse in praise of 
 knowledge with, "Silence were the best celebration of 
 that which I mean to commend : " an axiom which has 
 some affinity with Paulina's sentiment, in which silence is 
 connected with broken knowledge. The same idea is 
 expressed by Claudio : " Silence is the perfectest herald of 
 joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much." 
 {Much Ado about Nothing, II. i. 317). 
 
 Benedict uses the same philosophical aphorism : — 
 
 For my part I am so attired in wonder, 
 I know not -ivhat to say. 
 
 (M. Ado, IV. i. 146.) 
 
 The same connection between silence and wonder is 
 implied in Hamlet's reference to Laertes : — 
 
 What is he whose grief 
 Bears such an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow 
 Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand 
 Like wondcr-ivoundcci licarcrs ? 
 
 {Ham. V. i. 277.) 
 
 And in the Sonnets we find silence and wonder thus con- 
 nected : — 
 
 For we, which now behold these present days, 
 Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. 
 
 fSonnet 106 j. 
 
 The same arrest of speech and reflection by wonder is 
 referred to by Prospero, the ruler of the enchanted island, 
 the worker of miracles and prodigies : 
 
 I perceive these lords 
 
 At this encounter do so mucli admire 
 
 Tliat tlicy devour tlieir reason, and scarce tliink 
 
 Tlieir eyes do offices of trull!, their words 
 
 Are natural breath. 
 
 (Temp. V. i. 153;.
 
 86 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The silence which may be paradoxically called the expres- 
 sion of wonder, — mute wonder, — is excellently pictured in 
 the account of Henry V's eloquence : — 
 
 When he speaks, 
 The air, a chartered libertine, is still, 
 And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
 To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences. 
 
 (Hen. F. I. i. 47 j. 
 
 This passage becomes much more intelligible when collated 
 with the passage we have quoted from Bacon, referring to 
 the eloquent discourse of Queen Elizabeth, and the mute 
 wonder which held her ambassadors spell-bound in her 
 presence. Bacon's philosophy is the key to all these 
 passages. Henry and Elizabeth are eloquent in the same 
 way. 
 
 In the passages already quoted the object of wonder is 
 always something rare and unique, although this quality 
 is not always pointed out. It is, however, often indicated. 
 An extraordinary, almost miraculous cure is, in AlVs Well, 
 (II., iii. 7), called "the rarest argument of wonder.'''^ 
 Bacon says, we have seen, that what is rare is wondered 
 at ; and what is in common tise, or familiar, is not wondered 
 at, even if it be unique, and that when philosophy or 
 knowledge enters, wonder retreats. This philosophical 
 placitum cannot be better expressed than in the words 
 in AlVs Well immediately precedmg : — 
 
 "They say miracles are past : and we have our philoso- 
 phical persons to make modern [modern always in Shake- 
 speare means common or ordinary] and familiar, things 
 supernatural and causeless. Hence it is we make trifles of 
 terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when 
 we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. Why 'tis 
 the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our 
 latter times." This passage teems with Baconian thought ; 
 it is a particular application of the maxim caiisarum 
 explicatio tollit miraculum. 
 
 The philosophical teaching implied in this very Baconian
 
 THINGS CAUSELESS. 87 
 
 speech in the play is exactly reproduced in the Novum 
 Organiiin, 11. 28. And the curious use of the word 
 causeless is anticipated and completely vindicated. Bacon 
 is discussing what he calls Singular Instances, i.e., 
 instances "which are like themselves alone." And on 
 these he makes the following deeply wise and philosophical 
 comments. I give Professor Fowler's translation : — 
 
 ''The use of Singular Instances is the same as that of 
 the Clandestine Instances, namely, to unite and extend 
 the limits of nature, for the purpose of discovering general 
 or common natures, to be afterwards limited by true 
 differences. For we are not to desist from enquiry till the 
 properties and qualities which are found in such things as 
 may be taken for marvels of nature [pro miraculis natures] be 
 reduced and comprehended under some Form or Law ; so 
 that all irregularity or singularity shall be found to depend 
 on some common Form, and the Marvel [miraculum] 
 shall turn out to be only in the precise differences and the 
 degree and the rare concurrence [concurso raro] and not 
 in the species itself. Whereas now the thoughts of men 
 go no further than to regard such things as the secrets and 
 mighty works [uiagnalia^ of nature, and as it were 
 uncaused [secrctis incausahilibus'] and as exceptions to 
 general rules." 
 
 We can, by help of Bacon's philosophy, see why 
 causeless, and supernatural, are connected with what is 
 miraculous or not familiar. We have seen in the speech 
 of the Second Counsellor at the Gesta Grayorum how the 
 two are connected : " Miracles and wonders shall cease, 
 by reason that you have discovered their natural causes." 
 It is not often that philosophical technicalities are so 
 copiously presented in Shakespeare : in these writings 
 indeed there is plenty of philosophy, but it is usually fluid 
 or molten, not shaped : incorporated with the dramatic 
 situation, not formulated as a detached commentary. The 
 same principles are latently present in other passages.
 
 88 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 When Hero returns to life as if by resurrection, the friar, 
 who has planned the entire incident, entreats the company 
 to suspend their amazement till the marriage is solemnized, 
 and that they may not be too much influenced by the 
 apparent miracle, he suggests that it should be regarded 
 with the seeming knowledge which emancipates from an 
 unknown fear. 
 
 Meanwhile, let ivonder seem familiar, 
 And to the chapel let us presently. 
 
 \m. Ado V. iv. 70.) 
 
 The words — let wonder seem familiar — are almost un- 
 intelligible till interpretation is supplied by Baconian 
 philosophy. 
 
 That wonder and what is rare or unique are associated, 
 is constantly implied. In the Tempest the unique specimen 
 of womankind found in the enchanted island is named 
 Miranda, which Ferdinand translates — 
 
 Admired Miranda. 
 Indeed the top of admiration ! worth 
 What's dearest in the world. 
 
 [Temp. III. i. 37). 
 
 " What's dearest," is doubtless a variation of what's rarest ; 
 dear being one of those words which is occasionally used 
 in almost a technical way, when the philosophy of wonder 
 colours its application. The same use of the word is found 
 in the 102nd Sonnet — 
 
 Sweets, grown common, lose their dear delight. 
 
 The whole Sonnet, one of the loveliest ever penned, is full 
 of the philosophical subtlety connected with rarity. 
 "Rarity" might be its title. ''The top of admiration" 
 recalls Bacon's demands that the tops, or ultimates, or 
 summitates of human nature should be studied. (Dc 
 Aug. IV. i.). Ferdinand finds other arguments of wonder 
 in the strange island, and rarity is curiously dragged in b}^ 
 a poetic strain on language which would be insufferably
 
 MONODICA NATURE. 89 
 
 awkward in prose, but in poetrj^ it brings to the philosophi- 
 cal sentiment an atmosphere of quaintness and subtlety, — 
 
 Let me live here ever : 
 
 So rare a wondcr'd Father and a Wife 
 
 Makes this place Paradise. 
 
 {Temp. IV. i. 122). 
 
 Even the mention of Paradise keeps up the impression of 
 what is rare, or unique. 
 
 The passage just quoted is an instance in which language 
 which is impossible for prose, becomes highly picturesque 
 and expressive in verse, and at the same time brings into 
 poetry the flavour of philosophy. In other passages this 
 strained language is used to bring philosophical vigour into 
 dramatic utterance. For instance, lachimo, speaking of 
 the good qualities of Posthumus, as but the riper develop- 
 ments of what he knew long before, says, " But I could 
 then have looked on him without the help of admiration," 
 {Cymb. I. iv. 4), which Bacon's philosophy enables us to 
 explain, i.e., there was then nothing unusual, or unique, or 
 rare, or exceptional in his character, nothing to make me 
 incapable of judging him calmly, rationally, by comparison 
 with similar natures : he was no argument of wonder then, 
 he ranked with common and familiar facts. 
 
 Wonder is in Shakespeare, as in Bacon, constantly 
 associated with the monodica naturcB, comets, or the sun 
 when covered by clouds, and so withdrawn from ordinary 
 observation. Petruchio, when he appears at the bridal 
 party dressed in beggarly costume, rebukes the company 
 who are scandalized by his appearance, — 
 
 Wherefore gaze this goodly company, 
 As if they saw some wondrous monument, 
 Some comet, or unusual prodigy ? 
 
 {Tarn. Sltrciv III. ii. 95). 
 
 t.e., something to be regarded with speechless amazement. 
 
 Still more remarkable is the comment of Henry V. on 
 
 the strange monstrous crime of Lord Scroop, as something
 
 90 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 rare, unique— causeless, or inexplicable as if causeless— a 
 sort of monodicum sceleris, a singularity in crime, a matter 
 for wonder, not for explicatio causarum — 
 
 'Tis so strange, 
 That, though the truth of it stands off as gross 
 As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. 
 Treason and murder ever kept together 
 As two yoke-devils sworn to cither's purpose. 
 Working so grossly, in a natural cause, 
 Tliat admiration did notwlioop at tlicni : 
 But thou, 'gainst all fropoition, did'st bring in 
 Wonder to wait on treason and on murder, 
 
 {Hen. V. II. ii. 102). 
 
 Here again Baconian philosophy is strangely evident. 
 Wonder — or admiration, — (for again the words are inter- 
 changed) does not arise till no natural cause can be dis- 
 covered ; the crime is inexplicable, not to be explained by 
 similitude or comparison, ('gainst all proportion), so 
 entirely inexplicable that reason is silent, and admiration 
 can only vent itself in an inarticulate cry, whooping not 
 speaking. 
 
 That whooping, the inarticulate cry which is all that 
 wonder is capable of, is a word technically used in this 
 sense, is illustrated by the following very curious 
 passage : — Celia is the speaker; she is tantalizing Rosalind 
 in reference to the verses which Orlando has been scatter- 
 ing about the forest : — " O wonderful, wonderful, and 
 most wonderful, wonderful ! and yet again wonderful ; and 
 after that, out of all whooping! " {As You Like Itlll. ii. 201.) 
 This is a whooping speech — a reduplicated exclamation, 
 its best substitute for coherent utterance, — and the 
 occasion for it is wonder, or admiration. 
 
 In accordance with the same philosophy, the wild young 
 Prince Hal, justifies his loose behaviour : he is preparing 
 a surprise, a wonder for the world : The justification is 
 somewhat sophistical : — 
 
 Yet herein will I imitate the sun, 
 
 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
 
 WONDER AND RARITY. QI 
 
 To smother up his beauty from the world, 
 
 That when he please again to be himself, 
 
 Being wanted, lie may be more iivndei'd at, 
 
 By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
 
 Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
 
 If all the year were playing holidays. 
 
 To sport would be as tedious as to work, 
 
 But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, 
 
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. I.ii. 221). 
 
 In this passage the occasion for wonder is entirely 
 fantastic and unreal, and it is therefore all the more 
 worthy of remark that the poet is careful to define the 
 condition on which wonder rests : no cause but rarity can 
 be assigned for it. The sun is not wondered at till he has 
 been hidden, and becomes rare and wanted : his return 
 awakens wonder. Wonder is more natural to the ignorant 
 and unreflective common folk, whom, I am sorry to say, 
 Shakespeare, with his aristocratic sympathies, thoroughl}- 
 despised. He remarks of them that nothing pleases which 
 does not fit into their natural humour of wonder — rare 
 accidents. Bacon also observes Nihil enini inultis placet 
 nisi imaginationcni feriat. {Nov. Org. I. yy). Nothing 
 pleases the multitude unless it strikes their imagination. 
 
 With this passage we may compare one in the 52nd 
 Sonnet, in which Bacon's wonder-philosophy is clearly 
 reflected : — 
 
 Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, 
 Since seldom coming, in the long year set, 
 Like stones of worth they tliinty placed are, 
 Or captain jewels in the carcanet. 
 
 If, however, we would see Bacon's philosophy of 
 wonder, in its larger applications, most luminously 
 expressed, we shall find it in Henry IV's remonstrances 
 addressed to this same wild young Prince, for making 
 himself so common and so cheap — casting aside the veil of 
 majesty which should al\va3'S surround, and half conceal
 
 92 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 royalty, and so forfeiting the wonder and admiration 
 which Princes only keep when they are secluded from 
 their subjects, rarely seen, and when seen, admired. 
 Opinion, or reputation, for Princes, can only rest securely 
 on this basis of wonder. 
 
 Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
 
 So commou-hackncy'd in the eyes of men, 
 
 So stale and cheap io vulgar company, 
 
 Opinion, that did help me to the crown. 
 
 Had still kept loyal to possession, 
 
 And left me in reputeless banishment, 
 
 A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. 
 
 By being seldom seen, I could not stir 
 
 But like a comet I was wonder' d at, . . . 
 
 Thus did I keep my person fresh and new ; 
 
 My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
 
 Ne'er seen but wonder'd at : and so my state, 
 
 Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast. 
 
 And won by rareness such solemnity. 
 
 The skipping king, he ambled up and down . . . 
 
 Grew a companion to the common streets, 
 
 Enfeoff'd himself to popularity ; 
 
 That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, 
 
 They surfeited with honey and began 
 
 To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 
 
 More than a little is by much too much. 
 
 So when he had occasion to be seen. 
 
 He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
 
 Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes. 
 
 As, sick and blunted with community. 
 
 Afford no extraordinary gaze. 
 
 Such as is bent on sun-like majesty. 
 
 When it shines seldom, in admiring eves. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. U\. n. 39). 
 
 It is clear that in such a paternal lecture as this the 
 philosophy of wonder need not have been introduced. Its 
 unexpected appearance, with the care taken to fit it to its 
 unusual application, shews what a strong hold it had on 
 the poet's mind, and how thoroughly it possessed his 
 imagination.
 
 BACON S PHILOSOPHY IN SHAKESPEARE. 93 
 
 There are one or two verbal curiosities in this speech 
 which it is worth while observing. The poet speaks of 
 eyes as sick and blunted with connnunity. Common is one 
 of the technical words in Bacon's philosophy of wonder : 
 community is evidently a correlative and equivalent to 
 familiarity. The place of this word in the philosophy of 
 wonder must be remembered when it appears elsewhere^ 
 as in the 69th Sonnet. 
 
 But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, 
 The solve is this, that thou dost common grow. 
 
 Also, when we find Shakespeare using the striking 
 expression, 
 
 My presence, like a robe pontifical, — 
 
 it is interesting to find that Bacon, in his charge against 
 St. John, uses much the same expression — "You take 
 upon you a pontifical habit, and you couple your slander 
 with a curse." ("Life," V. 141). 
 
 It is to be noted that Bacon's "Philosophy of Wonder and 
 Rarity," with his reference to the sun, comets, &c., as illus- 
 trations, was not published till 1620, four years after William 
 Shakspere's death. Ho\v came " Shakespeare " to give 
 such brilliant and ample expression to these ideas more 
 than twenty years before ? How came all this very 
 characteristic Baconian thought to find a place in these 
 poems ? Evidently some explanation is urgently required. 
 
 I might refer to other passages in Shakespeare which 
 require to be interpreted by the light of Bacon's Philo- 
 sophy of Wonder : but those which I have produced are, 
 I submit, sufficient to prove that some of Bacon's most 
 characteristic ideas find their best, their amplest expression, 
 not in Bacon's prose, but in Shakespeare's poetry. The 
 crude, technical, scientific exposition of the theory is to be 
 found in the prose : while the larger and more varied 
 applications of the theory, — the theory set in many lights 
 and colours, as it is seen reflected in the multipljang and 
 transforming mirror of a poet's mind, — is seen in Shake-
 
 94 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 speare. But amidst all this kaleidescopic changes the 
 individuality of the patient thinker, and that of the tuneful 
 singer and inspired seer remains the same. In the prose 
 the speaker keeps on the solid ground of science and 
 philosophy, his wings are folded, and his harp is silent ; 
 but in the poetry he carries the same thoughts into higher 
 regions — he ascends the Empyrean, and the higher he 
 ascends the more rapturous and musical is his strain, 
 although he has brought his theme from the lower levels 
 of philosophy. As the lark, so also is he. 
 
 Type of the wise who soar, but never roam, 
 True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
 
 95 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BACON'S PHILOSOPHY OF HOPE. 
 
 1 DO not think that this chapter will be less valuable or less 
 acceptable, because it will contain very little of my own. 
 My object will be obtained if by the grouping and com- 
 parison of various passages from Bacon and Shakespeare 
 I can show in another striking instance how remarkably 
 their ideas correspond. If I can do this both the prose 
 and the poetry will be illustrated. The philosophy be- 
 comes more poetical and the poetry more philosophical, 
 as the two are brought together. 
 
 Those who have raised the objection against the 
 Baconian theory, that the Author of the Essay of " Love " 
 could not have written, or even understood, the love 
 scenes of Shakespeare, might with even greater plausi- 
 bility have urged that the genial dramatic poet, who saw 
 the world of men and nature always arrayed in the rich 
 colouring and the radiant glow of poetry and imagination, 
 cannot be the hard-headed, matter-of-facf, somewhat 
 cynical statesman and philosopher, who dilated with such 
 pitiless logic on the uselessness of Hope, and even con- 
 tended that it is for men both delusive, mischievous, and 
 injurious. In truth, Bacon's language about Hope is one 
 of the most curious features of his philosophy, and startles 
 even such a devoted admirer and sympathetic commentator 
 as Mr. Spedding, In the preface to the Mcditationcs 
 SacrcB Mr. Spedding refers especially to the meditation 
 De Spe Terrestri, as a singular and characteristic sample 
 of Bacon's outlook on life at the age of ^y, and thus 
 comments upon it : —
 
 g6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 "The aphorism attributed to HeracHtus that Dry light is 
 the best soul* was indeed at all times a favourite with him." 
 
 The use of the word watery may account for and explain 
 its use in Shakespeare : — 
 
 The imaginary relish is so sweet 
 That it enchants my sense : what will it be 
 When that the watery palate tastes indeed 
 Love's thrice repured nectar ? 
 
 (Tro. Cr. III. ii. 20). 
 
 Bacon being accustomed to associate purity and dryness, 
 thinks of that type of taste which is not accustomed to 
 pure nectar as soft and watery. Spedding continues : — 
 
 "But I do not think he has anywhere else made so 
 resolute an attempt to translate it into a practical precept 
 for the regulation of the mind, and fairly to follow to its 
 legitimate consequences the doctrine that absolute veracity 
 and freedom from all delusion is the only sound condition 
 of the soul. Upon this principle a reasonable expectation 
 of good to come founded upon a just estimate of proba- 
 bilities, is the only kind of hope which in the things of 
 this life a man is permitted to indulge ; all hope that goes 
 beyond this being reserved for the life to come. The 
 spirit of hope must have been strong in Bacon himself, if 
 at the age of 37 he could still believe it possible for man to 
 walk by the light of reason alone. I suppose it did not 
 hold out much longer. His own experience must have 
 taught him, that had he never hoped to do more than he 
 succeeded in doing, he would never have had the spirit to 
 proceed ; and that to reduce hope within the limits of 
 reasonable expectation would be to abjure the possunt quia 
 posse videntur, and to clip the wings of enterprise ; and he 
 learned before he died to recommend the ' Entertaining of 
 
 * Bacon often refers to dry light : i.e., knowledge which is a pure 
 and accurate reflection of fact, not " infused or drenched " by the 
 personal qualities of the mind that receives it. " This same lumen 
 sicum," he says, " doth parch and offend most men's watery and soft 
 natures." f" Advancement " II., xii. 2.j
 
 HOPE VERSUS VERACITY. 97 
 
 hopes,' as one of the best medicines for the preservation of 
 health." 
 
 Mr. Spedding refers to the Essay of "The Regimen of 
 Health," originally published in 1597 (the same time as the 
 Meditationes Sacrce) ; and again in 1612. But not till 1625 
 was the precept " Entertain hopes" included among those 
 for the regulation of health. 
 
 The whole subject is most interesting, and the Medita- 
 tion, in which it is most amply expounded is worth 
 reproducing, especially as we shall find that Bacon's very 
 characteristic idea, in its scope and also in its limitations, 
 is best represented by combining the didactic expositions 
 of the Philosophy of Hope in the prose with Shakespeare's 
 dramatic presentation of the same subject. Moreover, 
 this special feature of Bacon's philosophy is very little 
 known, and its remarkable coincidence with Shake- 
 spearean thought has not, so far as I know, been noticed. 
 
 The text for Bacon's Meditation, De Spe Terrcstri is, 
 Melior est oculorum visio quam animi progressio : "Better 
 is the sight of the eyes than the wandering of the desire." 
 And the sermon which follows begins as follows : — 
 
 "The sense, which takes everything simply as it is, 
 makes a better mental condition and estate than those 
 imaginations and wanderings of the mind. For it is the 
 nature of the human mind, even in the gravest wits, the 
 moment it receives an impression of anything, to sally 
 forth and spring forward, and expect to find everything 
 else in harmony with it ; if it be an impression of good, 
 then it is prone to indefinite hope ; if of evil, to fear ; 
 whence it is said, — 
 
 " By her own tales is Hope full oft deceived. 
 
 "And, on the other hand, — 
 
 " In doubtful times Fear still forbodes the worst. 
 
 " In fear however there is some advantage : it prepares 
 endurance, and sharpens industry. 
 
 H
 
 g8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 " The task can show no face that's strange to me: 
 Each chance I have pondered, and in thought rehearsed." 
 
 So far there is nothing very starthng, and it is not 
 surprising that we are on ground common also to Shake- 
 speare. The resemblance is very exact. For Bacon's 
 discourse at this point might be embellished with part of 
 the dialogue between Troilus and Cressida (III. ii. 74). 
 
 Tro. — Fear makes devils of cherubims, they never see truly. 
 
 [and yet] 
 
 Cres. — Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than 
 blind reason, stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft cures 
 the worse. 
 
 And, in the lowest levels of misfortune the victim may 
 say :— 
 
 Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, 
 Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst. 
 The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune. 
 Still stands in esperance, lives not in fear. 
 The lamentable change is from the best : 
 The worst returns to laughter. 
 
 {Lear IV. i. i). 
 
 Bacon continues his sermon; and now he surprises us: — 
 " But in hope there seems to be no use. For what avails 
 that anticipation of good ? If the good turns out less than 
 you hoped for, good though it be, yet because it is not so 
 good, it seems to you more like a loss than a gain, by 
 reason of the over-hope. If neither more or less but so," 
 — [an expression, it may be parenthetically noticed, which 
 has a singular resemblance to Kent's language addressed to 
 Cordelia {Lear IV. vii. 5) : — 
 
 All my reports go with the modest truth: 
 Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so. 
 
 — "the event being equal and answerable to the hope, yet 
 the flower of it having been by that hope already gathered, 
 you find it a stale thing and almost distasteful. If the
 
 FALSE SECURITY RESTING ON HOPE. QQ 
 
 good be beyond the hope, then no doubt there is a sense of 
 gain. True; yet, had it not been better to gain the whole 
 by hoping not at all, than the difference by hoping too 
 little ? And such is the effect of hope in prosperity. But 
 in adversity it enervates the true strength of the mind. For 
 matter of hope cannot always be forthcoming; and if it 
 fail, though but for a moment, the whole strength and 
 support of the mind goes with it. Moreover, the mind 
 suffers in dignity, when we endure evil only by self- 
 deception and looking another way, and not by fortitude 
 and judgment. And therefore it was an idle fiction 
 of the poet's to make Hope the antidote of human 
 diseases, because it mitigates the pain of them ; whereas 
 it is in fact an inflammation and exasperation of 
 them, rather multiplying and making them break out 
 afresh. So it is nevertheless that most men give them- 
 selves up entirely to imaginations of hope, and these wander- 
 ings of the mind; and, thankless for the past, scarce attend- 
 ing to the present, ever young, hang merel}/ upon the future. 
 I beheld all that walk under the sun, with the next youth that 
 shall rise after him, which is a sore disease and a great madness 
 of the mind. You will ask, perhaps, if it be not better, 
 when a man knows not what to expect, that he should 
 ■divine well of the future, and rather hope than distrust, 
 seeing that hope makes the mind more tranquil. Certainly 
 in all delay and expectation, to keep the mind tranquil and 
 steadfast, by the good government and composure of the 
 same, I hold to be the chief firmament of human life; but 
 such tranquillity as depends upon hope I reject, as light 
 and unsure. Not but it is fit to foresee and pre-suppose upon 
 sound and sober conjecture good things as well as evil, that 
 we may the better fit our actions to the probable event; 
 only this must be the work of the understanding and judg- 
 ment, with a just inclination of the feeling. But who is 
 there, whose hopes are so ordered, that when once he 
 has concluded with himself out of a vigilant and steady 
 <:onsideration of probabilities that better things are coming,
 
 100 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES JN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 he has not dwelt upon the very anticipation of good, and 
 indulged in that kind of thought as a pleasant dream ? 
 And this it is which makes the mind light, frothy, un- 
 equal, wandering. Therefore, all hope is to be employed 
 upon the life to come in heaven; but here on earth by how 
 much purer is the sense of things present, without in- 
 fection or tincture of imagination, by so much wiser and 
 better is the soul. 
 
 Long hope to cherish in so short a span 
 Beiits not man." 
 
 The idle fiction of the poets here referred to is still 
 further expounded in the discourse on Prometheus. Pan- 
 dora is a fair and lovely woman, made by Vulcan, by 
 order of Jupiter, in order to chastise the insolence of 
 Prometheus. She carried an elegant vase in which were 
 enclosed all mischief and calamities, only at the bottom 
 was Hope. This was rejected b}^ Prometheus — the type 
 of foresight — but accepted by his incautious brother, 
 Epimetheus, the type of improvidence. His followers 
 " amuse their minds with many empty hopes, m which they 
 take delight, as in pleasant dreams, and so sweeten the 
 miseries of life." 
 
 All this is strange teaching, very logical, but very un- 
 palatable. Hope must be restrained like iviagination: its 
 anticipations are ^Hight and unsure; " it is allied to mad- 
 ness; it raises pleasant dreams which sweeten life, but do 
 not add to its strength and dignity. It keeps the mind 
 steadfast, by the help of delusion. How does all this 
 teaching look when it is applied to practice ? This may 
 be seen in the debate held between certain lords who are 
 plotting insurrection against the fourth Henry. The 
 Archbishop of York begins : — 
 
 Thus have you heard our cause and known our means; 
 And, my most noble friends, I pray you all 
 Speak plainly your opinion of our hopes. 
 
 And then follows a comparison between their own forces 
 and those of the King — giving grounds for hope derived
 
 MADNESS AND FLATTERY. lOI 
 
 from the "understanding and judgment." Lord Bardolph 
 discourages action that is prompted only by hope, and his 
 counsel is that their movements must be exactly pro- 
 portioned to their ability, not to their expectations : — 
 
 For in a theme so bloody-faced as this 
 
 Conjcciiirc, cxpcctaiioii, and surmise 
 
 Of aids incertain, should not be admitted. 
 
 Arch. — 'Tis ver}' true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed 
 
 It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. 
 
 L. Bard. — It was, my lord : who lined himself with hope, 
 Ealing Ihe air on promise of suppl}', 
 Flaticring himself in project of a power, 
 Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts. 
 And so, wilh great imagination, 
 Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, 
 And winking \_i.c., with eyes shut — dreaming] leap'd into 
 destruction. 
 
 Here we find hope coupled with conjecture, surmise of 
 aids uncertain (or unsure), with eating the air, flattery, 
 imagination, and madness, and with eyes shut as in 
 slumber — all Baconian points of view. The discussion, 
 however, continues. Lord Hastings asks the same ques- 
 tion that Bacon puts into the mouth of an objector, who 
 wishes to know if it is not just as well to " divine well of 
 the future : " — 
 
 But b}^ your leave, it never yet did hurt 
 To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. 
 
 *' Yes," replies Bardolph, vindicating the Baconian view — 
 
 Yes; if this present quality of war, . . . 
 
 Lives so in hope as in an early spring 
 
 We see the appearing liuds; which to prove fruit, 
 
 Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair 
 
 That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build. 
 
 We first survey the plot, then draw the model. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. I. iii.) 
 
 And then follows a moralizing similar to the "counting
 
 102 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 cost" of the Gospels— a "sound and sober conjecture" of 
 probabilities. 
 
 The same attitude is more briefly described by the 
 soldiers, who are plotting revolution against Macbeth. 
 
 Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate : 
 But certain issue strokes must arbitrate. 
 
 {Macbeth V. iv. 19.) 
 
 Evidently in Shakespeare's opinion, the proper attitude of 
 a warrior is to keep hope altogether subordinate, and out- 
 side his calculations, following the guidance of reason and 
 fact ; he takes counsel of judgment and understanding, 
 not of hope. Hope is as unsuitable for him as for the 
 condemned prisoner, who is exhorted by his priestly 
 counsellor — 
 
 Prepare yourself to death : do not satisfy your resolution with 
 hopes that are fallible [Mens. M. III. i. 167.) 
 
 The same teaching is shadowed in Agamemnon's speech 
 to the Grecian warriors. He also declares that — 
 
 The ample proposition that hope makes 
 
 In all designs begun on earth below 
 
 Fails in the promised largeness. Checks and disasters 
 
 Grow in the veins of actions highest reared. 
 
 {Tro. Cres. I. iii. 3.) 
 
 And then follows a discourse of matchless wisdom, 
 beauty, and eloquence on the lessons to be drawn from 
 
 failure and difficulty Equally frail are the 
 
 hopes built on royal or human favour. 
 
 O momentary grace of mortal men, 
 
 Which wc more hunt for than the grace of God ! 
 
 Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks, 
 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, 
 
 Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
 
 Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 
 
 {Richard III. III. iv. 98.) 
 
 The treachery of hope is also implied in the following — 
 Oft expectation fails ; and most oft there
 
 HOPE NOT FOR EARTH BUT HEAVEN. IO3 
 
 Where most it promises : and oft it hits 
 Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits, 
 
 {All's W. II. i. 145.) 
 
 One of the baleful effects of witchcraft is the raising of 
 hopes which are unreasonable. Macbeth was to be thus 
 bewitched : — 
 
 Magic sleights, 
 Shall raise such artificial sprites. 
 As by the strengtli of their illusion 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion. 
 He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear, 
 His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear : 
 And you all know, security 
 Is mortal's chiefest enemy. {Macbeth III. v 26.) 
 
 Shakespeare as well as Bacon tells us that all hope that 
 goes beyond reasonable calculation should refer to the life 
 to come, not to the present stage of being. 
 
 Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth, 
 Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and griefs. 
 
 {Richard III. II. ii. 78.) 
 
 And accordingly the fallen statesman — 
 
 Gave his honours to the world again. 
 
 His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 
 
 {Henry VIII. IV. ii. 29.) 
 
 This conception of Hope is fundamental in Bacon's 
 writings ; but there are other sides worthy of con- 
 templation. 
 
 Hope, alt lough based on illusion, as long as it is 
 cherished, gives support and tranquility to the mind ; 
 this is one prime condition of physical health. Hence 
 "Entertain Hopes," is one of the prescriptions of the 
 Regiment of Health. Hope prolongs life, by keeping off 
 the corrosion of despair. In this point of view, that of 
 physical advantage. Bacon's language changes. No longer 
 does he say, " In Hope there is no use ; " but, " Hope is of 
 all affections the most useful, and contributes most to pro- 
 long life, if it be not too often disappointed, but feed the
 
 104 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 imagination with the prospect of good. They, therefore, 
 who get up and propose some definite end as their mark 
 in life, and continually and gradually advance thereto, are 
 most!}' long-lived ; in so much that when they arrive at 
 the summit of their hopes, and have nothing more to look 
 forward to, they commonly droop, and do not long survive. 
 So that hope appears to be a kind of leaf-joy, which may 
 be spread out over a vast surface like gold " " Hist. Life 
 and Death " (Works V. 279). Also discoursing on the 
 "affections and passions of the mind, which are pre- 
 judicial to longevity, and which are profitable," he says, 
 " Ruminations of joy in the memory, or apprehensions of 
 them in hope or imagination are good" {lb.). A French 
 proverb in the Promus, 1472, reflects this sentiment, 
 " Commence a mourir qui abandonne son desir " (He 
 who forsakes the object of living — his desire — begins to 
 die) ; a sentiment most poetically expressed in the Essay 
 of " Death : " — the sweetest Canticle is Nunc dimittis, 
 when a man hath attained worthy ends and expectations. 
 
 Bacon's language, "feed the imagination with the 
 prospect of good," is not unlike Shakespeare's, already 
 quoted, in Hotspur, who 
 
 Lined himself with hope, 
 
 Eating the air in promise of supply, 
 
 With great imagination, proper to madmen. 
 
 Curiously enough precisely the same conception of hope 
 is found in the first play of the Parnassus trilogy, " I fed so 
 long upon hope till I had almost 'starved,'" i. 621. 
 
 The leaf-joy view may be reflected in the lines, 
 
 Their's [i.e. their travel] is sweetened with the hope to have 
 
 The present benefit which I possess ; 
 
 And hope to joy is little less in joy 
 
 Than Hope cnjoy'd. 
 
 {Rich. II. II. in. 15). 
 
 in which the word-play, hope to joy, less in joy, hope 
 enjoyed — is peculiarly Baconian. 
 
 But perhaps the most remarkable of these correspon-
 
 PROLONGATION OF LIFE BY HOPE. IO5 
 
 dences in this part of the subject is that in which Bacon's 
 idea of hope as prolonging hfe is repeated by Shakespeare. 
 Richard II., in his despair, is ready to welcome death, but 
 cannot find it as long as hope remains, 
 
 I will despair, and be at enmity 
 
 With cozening hope : he is -a. flatterer^ 
 
 A parasite, a keeper back of death, 
 
 Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, 
 
 Which /rt/st' liopc lingers in extremity. 
 
 (Richard 77. II. ii. 68). 
 
 So also when Lord Rivers brings to Elizabeth, Queen of 
 Edward IV., "News full of grief," he suggests the con- 
 jectural hope that, 
 
 Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. 
 
 a solace which the Queen accepts, because she desires to 
 live that Edward's unborn son may also live. 
 
 Till then/cj/r liope must liinder life's decay. 
 
 (3 Henry VI. IV. iv. 13). 
 
 Claudio accepts the same prescription, 
 
 The miserable have no other medicine 
 But only hope. 
 
 (Meas.forMcas.lll.i.2). 
 
 The flattery of hope has been referred to in some of the 
 passages already quoted, as well as the food it supplies to 
 maintain health and prolong life. ' ' Doth any man doubt," 
 says Bacon, in the first of his Essays, — of "Truth," " That 
 if there were taken out of men's minds vain opimons, flatter- 
 ing hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, and 
 the like, but it would leave the minds of a number of men 
 poor, shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, 
 and unpleasing to themselves." This kind of artificial 
 feeding on hope is much to the taste of such dreaming 
 speculators as the Alchemists. " For the Alchemist nurses 
 eternal hope, . . . and when among the chances of experi- 
 ment he lights upon some conclusions either in aspect new,
 
 I06 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 or for utility not contemptible, he takes these for earnest of 
 what is to come, and feeds his mind upon them, and magnifies 
 them to the most, and supplies the rest in hope." {Novum 
 Organum, I. 85). 
 
 This sort of diet, Bacon notes, is useful for exiles, Spes 
 alit exsules. (Promus 561), and Gaunt prescribes it, with 
 much detail of the dishes that furnish this diet, for his 
 banished son, Bolingbroke. Quite a group of "flattering 
 hopes, false valuations and imagination of things as one 
 would" is collected in this homily for an exile. The 
 passage is too long for quotation. {Rich. II. I. iii. 258—303). 
 
 When Valentine is banished, the same nourishment is 
 offered to him by the treacherous Proteus : — 
 
 Hope is a lover's staff ; walk hence with that, 
 And manage it against despairing thoughts. 
 
 {Two Gent. Ver. III. i. 246.) 
 
 Bacon in one of his apophthegms tells a story, the moral 
 of which is, " Hope is a good breakfast, but a bad supper." 
 
 The visionary, imaginative quality of Hope brings it into 
 relation with opiates, sleep and dreams. In the preface 
 to the unwritten discourse on the Sympathy and Antipathy 
 of things the following curious passage is found : — 
 
 "This part of Philosophy is very corrupt ; and (as is al- 
 most always the case), there being but little diligence there 
 has been too much hope. The effect of hope on the mind 
 of man is very like the working of some soporific drugs, 
 which not only induce sleep, but fill it with joyous and 
 pleasing dreams. For first it throws the human mind 
 into a sleep, . . . and then it insinuates and infuses into it 
 innumerable fancies like so many dreams." (Works, V. 203). 
 
 The hopes which centre about princes, heirs apparent, 
 expectants of sovereignty, illustrate this. Bacon takes up 
 this parable in one of his discourses : he unfolds the 
 hidden wisdom of Solomon's saying, "/ considered all the 
 living which walk under the sun, with the second child who 
 shall arise in his stead. This proverb remarks upon the
 
 WAKING DREAMS. I07 
 
 vanity of men, who are wont to crowd about the appointed 
 heirs of princes. The root hereof is in that madness, deeply 
 implanted by nature in human minds, of being too fond of 
 their own hopes. For there is scarcely anyone but takes 
 more delight in what he hopes for than in what he has. 
 Novelty also is very pleasing to man, and is eagerly sought 
 for. Now in a prince's heir hope and novelty are com- 
 bined. And this proverb implies the same as that which 
 was said of old, first by Pompey to Sylla, and afterwards 
 by Tiberius respecting Macro : ' That there be more who 
 worship the rising than the setting sun.' And yet princes 
 are not much disturbed at this, nor do they care much for 
 it, as neither Sylla nor Tiberius did ; but they rather scorn 
 the fickleness of mankind, and do not care to strive with 
 dreams : and hope, as was said, is but the dream of 
 a waking man." [De Augmentis VIII. ii. ; Works, 
 V. 48). Curiously enough the same sentiment, illustrated 
 by the same allusion is uttered by the cynical misanthrope 
 in Timon, Apemantus, who gives voice to sentiments such 
 as must have haunted Bacon's mind after his fall : — 
 
 We spend our flatteries to drink those men, 
 Upon whose age we void it up again. . . . 
 I should fear those that dance before me now 
 Would one day stamp upon me : 't has been done : 
 Men sliut their doors against a setting sun. 
 
 (Timon I., ii. 142.) 
 
 The same tendency to listen to flatteries of hope is 
 characteristic of love — is one of its many follies. It is 
 equally irrational whether it believes and hopes too much 
 or too little : — • 
 
 O hard-believing love, how strange it seems 
 Not to believe, and yet too credulous ! 
 Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes, 
 Despair and hope makes thee ridiculous : 
 The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely ; 
 In likelv thoughts the other kills thee quickh'. 
 
 (V. A. 985.)
 
 I08 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Alonso, thinking his son has been drowned, abandons 
 the hopes which have deceived him : — 
 
 Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it 
 
 No longer for my flatterer. {Temp, III., iii. 7.) 
 
 Bacon, however, not only admits, but sedulously 
 cultivates that kind of reasonable hope that is not con- 
 jectural or imaginative, but rests on well ascertained facts. 
 In the Novum Organum I. 92 — ii|, he dilates largely on 
 the "grounds of hope " for the progress of science. He is, 
 however, careful to put aside the "lighter breezes of 
 hope," and "bring men to particulars." And these are 
 discussed in the twenty-three Axioms referred to. The 
 "lighter breezes of hope" (92) are evidently the same as 
 "the tender leaves of hope," whose blighting by " a frost," 
 a "killing frost" is so pathetically described in Henry 
 VIII. III. ii. 353. Such failure of hope is described also in 
 AWs Well, the King having tried all known remedies for 
 his apparently incurable disease. " He hath abandoned 
 his physicians, under whose practices he hath persecuted 
 time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the 
 process, but only the losing of hope by time." {All's Well, 
 I. i. 15). 
 
 It must be admitted that the echoes of Bacon's most 
 singular and original sentiments, which I have pointed out 
 in Shakespeare, are most remarkable. Vernon Lee's 
 " Baconian thoughts in Baconian language " are not to be 
 mistaken, and the significance of this exact and curious 
 correspondence cannot fail to impress all fair minded and 
 careful students. 
 
 This philosophy of " Hope," which is equally character- 
 istic of Bacon and Shakespeare, is not a set of common- 
 place notions, floating in the air, any man's property who 
 chooses to pick them up. They are so strange and 
 individual, so peculiar and startling, that even Spedding 
 was half scandalized by them. Bacon's mind, and surely 
 also Bacon's hand is equally to be recognized in both the 
 prose and poetry.
 
 log 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BACON'S SARTOR RESARTUS. 
 
 One of Bacon's most characteristic maxims is that, 
 behaviour is rather external to the mind than a part of its 
 essence. It may be assumed {i.e. taken up), imitated, 
 worn as a garment, put on or put off, altered, or varied 
 according as mood or circumstances, or convenience, or 
 policy, or fashion may suggest. It is dress, not flesh ; a 
 garment, not a cuticle. 
 
 The earliest expression of this idea is to be found in a 
 long and thoughtful letter written to the Earl of Rutland 
 in 1595-6. The Earl was about to travel, and Bacon wrote 
 three letters of advice to help him to make the best use of 
 his foreign experiences. It is worth noting, as bearing on 
 Bacon's very usual habit of writing under other names 
 than his own, that these letters were written over the name 
 of the Earl of Essex, and sent to Rutland by the Earl as 
 his own composition. They are published in Devereux's 
 Memoirs of the Earls of Essex (1852). I have already (see 
 p. 37) referred to the fact that Spedding was the first to 
 assign these very remarkable letters to Bacon as their true 
 author. He proves his case, partly by the incommunicable 
 evidence of flavour, — tasting the style, — partly by com- 
 paring both the ideas and the terms in which they are 
 expressed, with analogous sentiments and identical phrases- 
 in Bacon's acknowledged writings. 
 
 In the first of these letters we find the following : — 
 "Behaviour is but a garment, and it is easy to make 
 a comely garment for a body that is itself well-pro- 
 portioned. Whereas a deformed body can. never be so.
 
 no SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 helped by tailor's art, but the counterfeit will appear. And 
 in the form of our mind it is a true rule, that a man may 
 mend his faults with as little labour as cover them." 
 ("Life," II., 8). The idea is more elaborated in the 
 "Advancement ■' (II. xxiii. 3); and in the Dc 
 Augmentis (VIII. i.). "Behaviour is as the garment of 
 the mind, and ought to have the conditions of a garment. 
 For first, it ought to be made in fashion ; secondly, it 
 •ought not to be too curious or costly ; thirdly, it ought to 
 be so framed as to best set forth any virtue of the mind, 
 and supply and hide any deformity ; lastly, and above all, 
 it ought not to be too strait, so as to confine the mind and 
 interfere with its freedom in business and action." 
 
 The last sentence of the Essay of "Ceremonies and 
 Respects," introduces another allusion to dress or 
 costume : — " Men's behaviour should be like their apparel, 
 not too strait or point device, but free for exercise or 
 motion." 
 
 Bacon has a Promus note (1439) which seems to refer to 
 this idea, but it is cryptically expressed, and probably 
 meant for no other eye than his own. It runs, " The ayre 
 ■of his behavior: fashions." Mrs. Pott probably puts a 
 right construction on this entry by comparing it with the 
 following passages in Shakespeare : — " I am a courtier. 
 Seest thou not the air of the Court in these enfoldings ? 
 Hath not my gait in it the measure of the Court ? " 
 ■{Winter s Tale IV. iv. 755). " Promising is the very air of 
 the time." {Tiiiion V. i. 24). These passages refer to both 
 behaviour and fashion as part of any one's costume, or 
 outward enfoldings, or investment. 
 
 The general principle, that behaviour is a garment, so 
 •compactly expressed in Bacon's prose, is a seed that 
 blossoms and bears abundant fruit in Shakespeare's poetry. 
 It is emphatically the aphorism of dramatic art, the very 
 key-note of histrionic performance, whether on the stage 
 or elsewhere, and the allusions to it are very numerous in 
 .Shakespeare.
 
 BEHAVIOUR A PART OF DRESS. Ill 
 
 First of all, it is to be noted, that the language of the 
 wardrobe is applied to behaviour or deportment in pre- 
 cisely the same way. The quality indicated by point 
 device is referred to by Rosalind in such a way as to apply 
 equally to dress and to conduct : she comments on the 
 absence in Orlando of any of the indications of "careless 
 desolation " which a lover ought to show — indications 
 belonging both to behaviour, and appearance, and cos- 
 tume ; and she sums up with: — "You are rather point 
 device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than 
 seeming the lover of any other," (See As You Like It 
 III. ii. 387-403). This expression, point device, is to be 
 found in Love's Labour Lost V. i. 21, applied to conduct, 
 not to dress. It evidently means spruce, dandified, 
 exquisite, and though referring to dress, includes 
 behaviour. 
 
 Bacon's idea is, however, expressed in the most direct 
 and unmistakable way by Portia, who makes a sort of 
 inventory of the garments of one of her suitors, and one 
 article of his attire is "behaviour": — "How oddly he's 
 suited" {i.e. clothed). " I think he bought his doublet in 
 Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, 
 and his behaviour everyvuhere." {Merchant of Venice I. 
 ii. 79). 
 
 The general idea connecting behaviour as such with 
 dress is implied in the following passage, where Bacon's 
 suggestion that fashion may be concerned in the selection 
 of these garments is also implied : — 
 
 Let not the world see fear and sad distrust 
 Govern the motion of a kingly eye : 
 Be stirring as the time ; be lire with fire ; 
 Threaten the threatener, and outface the brow 
 Of bragging horror ; so shall inferior eyes, 
 That hoi row their behaviours fiom the great, 
 Grow great by your example, and //// on 
 The dauntless spirit of resolution. 
 
 {King -John V. i. 46).
 
 112 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Queen Katherine, speaking to the two Cardinals, has the 
 same philosophy in her mind : — 
 
 If you have any justice, any pity, 
 
 If ye be anything but Cliiircliiiicn's habits, — 
 
 {Hen. VIII. 111. I ii6). 
 
 Malvolio is encouraged to present himself before Olivia, 
 his lady, with " A sad {i.e. grave) face, a reverent carriage, 
 a slow tongue, in the habit of some Sir of note." {Twelfth- 
 Night III. iv. 80). These are garments which he is to put 
 on, and thus cast away an inferior garment, viz. — "his 
 humble slough." The twin brother and sister, in the same 
 play, have "one face, one voice, one habit, and two 
 persons." (76. V. i. 223). Here the ambiguous word 
 habit may refer either to dress or behaviour, and is doubt- 
 less intended to include both. 
 
 Without special comment, the following specimens may 
 be added : — 
 
 Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan 
 TIic out-ward habit by the inward man. 
 
 {Per id. II. ii. 56). 
 
 This man, so complete, . . . 
 Hath into monstrous habits put the graces, 
 That once were his, and is become as black 
 As if besmear'd in hell. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. I. ii. 122). 
 
 O place, O form. 
 How often dost thou witli thy case, thy habit, 
 Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls 
 To thy false seeming. 
 
 {Meas for Meas. II. iv. 12). 
 
 And every lovely. organ of her life 
 Shall come apparetl'd in more precious habit. 
 More moving-delicate, and full of life, 
 Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 
 Than when she lived indeed. 
 
 {M. Ado IV. i. 226). 
 
 Looking a little more carefully we may find several
 
 GARMENT OF MADNESS : OF STATE. II3 
 
 varieties of this costume, which may be put off and on at 
 the pleasure of the wearer. 
 
 1. Madness or Folly : — Hamlet tells his friends that he 
 may find it necessary to counterfeit madness, and warns 
 them not to betray him, — 
 
 How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself 
 As I perchance hereafter shall think meet 
 To put an antic disposition on. 
 
 (Ham. I. V. 170J. 
 
 The dress of assumed madness was also worn by Brutus, 
 the friend of Lucretius. 
 
 He with the Romans was esteemed so 
 
 As silly, jeering idiots are witli kings, 
 
 For sportive words and uttering foolish things. 
 
 But now he throws that sJiallow habit by 
 
 Wherein deep policy did Iiiin disguise. 
 
 (Lucrece, 18 11). 
 
 Touchstone wears a somewhat similar garment ; the 
 banished Duke says of him, "He uses his folly like a 
 stalking horse and under the presentation of that he shoots 
 his wit." {As You Like It, V. iv. iii). The stalking horse 
 was of course a mask or disguise, a garment worn by the 
 fowler, under cover of which he could approach his game 
 and shoot at an advantage ; and Jacques is willing to 
 wear a suit of motley in order that he may comment with 
 unrestrained freedom on the follies and foibles of society. 
 (See^s Yoii Like It, II. vi. 41-61). 
 
 2. State and Pride is the garment which Brutus, throwing 
 aside the shallow habit of folly, wears as a substitute : — 
 
 Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece side, 
 Seeing such emulation in their woe. 
 Began to ctotlic liis wit in state and pride, 
 Burying in Lucrece' wound his folly's show. 
 
 {Lucrece, 1807). 
 
 The garment of state and pride was one of many costumes 
 that Henry IV. wore. His presence was
 
 114 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Like a robe pontifical. (i Hen. IV. III. ii. 56). 
 
 Pride is also worn and the wearer takes delight in the 
 reflected contemplation of it, 
 
 Pride haih no otiier glass 
 To show itself but pride. 
 
 {Trail. Cress. III. iii. 47). 
 
 The wardrobe conceit is rarely, or perhaps never, lost sight 
 of either in Bacon's philosophy of behaviour, or in Shake- 
 speare's pictures thereof. 
 
 3. Sobriety or sadness, i.e., gravity, is the garment which 
 Gratiano promises to wear when he visits Portia, 
 
 If I do not //// on a sober habit, . . . 
 
 Like one, well studied, in a sad ostent, 
 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 (Mer. Ven. II. ii. 199). 
 
 Sad ostent is a curiously ambiguous phrase, the double 
 entendre includes a great variety of outward forms of sober 
 expression, both in dress, and in conduct. 
 
 Gravity in the form of apathetic or phlegmatic indiffer- 
 ence is represented as put on : Brutus and Cassius are 
 talking about Casca, 
 
 Brutns. — What a blunt fellow is this grown to be ! 
 
 He was quick mettle when he went to school. 
 Cassius. — So is he now, in execution 
 
 Of any bold or noble enterprise, 
 
 However he puts on this tardy form. 
 
 {Jul. Ca's. I. ii. 299.) 
 
 Orlando "put on the countenance of stern commandment.'' 
 
 {As You Like It U. vii. 108.) 
 
 4. Mirth is the garment which Bassiano wishes Gratiano 
 to wear, instead of gloom ; it is thus he is " suited " : — 
 
 No, that were pity ; 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 
 Your boldest suit of mirth. 
 
 {Mer. Ven. II. ii. 209.)
 
 GARMENT OF PIUMILITY : OF VIRTUE. II5 
 
 5. Humility is a garment which Coriolanus tried to put 
 on, but could not make it fit, and he very soon cast it 
 aside. Brutus, one of the tribunes, thus describes the 
 attempt : — 
 
 I heard him swear, 
 Were he to stand for consul, never would he 
 Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put 
 Tlic napless vesture of liuniility. 
 
 {Cor. II. i. 247.) 
 
 But he makes the attempt, and 
 
 With a proud heart lie wore Jiis Innnble zveeds. 
 
 {lb. II. i. 161.) 
 
 The visible garment of humility was simply put on ; his 
 proper costume was arrogance and pride, Henry IV. was 
 more politic :^ 
 
 I stole all courtesy from heaven, 
 And dtess'd myself in such humility, 
 That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts. 
 
 (i Hen. /F. III. ii. 50.) 
 
 He selected the garment of humility as one best adapted for 
 him to wear, as a king of doubtful title, for whom it was 
 necessary that he should " pluck allegiance from men's 
 hearts." 
 
 The special garment which represents humility is named 
 by the clown in AlVs Well. " Though honesty be no 
 Puritan yet it will do no hurt ; it will wear the surplice of 
 humility over the black gown of a big heart." {All's Well, 
 I. iii. 97). 
 
 6. Virttie may be worn as a garment and is often put on 
 as a mask for villany, or as a hypocritical semblance of 
 what does not exist. The counsel, which Luciana gives to 
 Antipholus of Syracuse, thinking she is addressing Anti- 
 pholus of Ephesu?, is full of imagery derived from the 
 ■clothes philosophy : — 
 
 Alutfie your false love with some show of blindness . . .
 
 Il6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Look sweet ; speak fair ; become dislo3'alt)' ; 
 Apparel vice, like virtue's harbinger ; 
 Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ; 
 Teach sin tlic carriage of a holy saint, . . . 
 Though others have the arm, s/zac ns the sleeve. 
 
 (Sec Com. Er. III. ii. i— 28.) 
 
 Hamlet preaches the same philosophy to his mother : — 
 
 Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
 
 That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat. 
 
 Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, 
 
 That to tlie use of actions fair and good 
 
 He likewise gives afrocJi or livery, 
 
 That aptly is put on . . . 
 
 For use almost can change the stamp of nature. 
 
 {Ham. III. iv. 160.) 
 
 So Imogen, smarting under her husband's false accusa- 
 tion, thinks that all virtue is but an appearance, and that 
 suspicion may taint the holiest : — 
 
 All good seeming, 
 
 By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought 
 
 Put on for villany, not born iclicrcl gjvws, 
 
 But icorn, a bait for ladies. 
 
 {Cymb. III. iv. 56.) 
 
 Abhorson's mystery expresses itself in the Delphic 
 utterance : — 
 
 " Every true man's apparel fits your thief : if it be too little for 
 your thief, your true man thinks it big enough ; if it be too big for 
 vour thief, your thief thinks it little enough ; so every true man's 
 apparel fits 3'our thief." {Meas. for Meas. IV. ii. 46.) 
 
 " Which thing is an allegory," and its solution can be 
 found only in Bacon's philosophy of behaviour. 
 
 7. Content can also be worn as a garment by the dis- 
 contented. Cassio, if he knows that he cannot regain 
 Othello's favour, — 
 
 But to know so must be my benefit. 
 So shall I ilotlic me in a forced content. 
 
 {0th. III. iv. 119.)
 
 sanctity: love: strangeness. 117 
 
 8. Sanctity is a robe which the vilest may put on : 
 
 Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, 
 
 The damned'st body to invest and covet 
 
 In prenzie guards. 
 
 {Meas.for Meas. III. i- 95.) 
 
 Strike me the counterfeit matron. 
 
 It is her liabii only tliat is honest, 
 
 Herself 's a bawd. 
 
 {Tiinon IV. iii. 112.) 
 
 g. Love has a large wardrobe of different garments : 
 •It is 
 
 Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms 
 Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll 
 To every varied object in his glance : 
 Which parti-coated presence of loose love. 
 Put on by us, if in your heavenly eyes. 
 Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities, etc. 
 
 {Love's Labour's Lost V. ii. 773.) 
 
 10. Strangeness, or behaving like a stranger instead of a 
 friend, is the garment which Achilles wore, and of which 
 i\gamemnon makes bitter complaint. 
 
 Worthier than himself 
 
 Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. iii. 134., 
 
 When anyone modestly keeps his own gifts in the back- 
 ground he puts on strangeness : — 
 
 It is the witness still of excellency 
 
 To put a strange face on his own perfection. 
 
 (il/. Ado II. iii. 48.) 
 
 Many of these passages illustrate a sort of offshoot of 
 this philosophy of behaviour, which is certainly a reflec- 
 tion of Platonic Philosophy. As a garment may be 
 imitated, so it may be reflected in a glass or mirror, and so 
 the wearer may see the garment which he wears. The 
 glass which the Platonic poet generally refers to is the 
 same garment worn by others ; and anyone who wears a
 
 Il8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 fantastic garment may be taught how fantastic it is by 
 seeing it, as in a glass, worn by another. The philo- 
 sophical axiom, 
 
 Pride hath no other glass 
 To shew itseU", but pride. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. III. iii. 47.) 
 
 has been already quoted. Here it illustrates a collateral 
 branch of the Baconian philosophy. 
 
 The strangeness which Achilles wore is similarly re- 
 flected in the glass of imitation. By this artifice his own 
 pride is shewn to him. (See Tro. Cres., Ill, iii, 38 — 53.) 
 
 The figure of a glass and that of a garment are thus 
 closely connected. Conduct, our philosophic poet says, is 
 regulated by imitation. We unconsciously imitate those 
 with whom we associate. Those, who are inferior, dress 
 in behaviour as well as in costume, like their betters. 
 They 
 
 Borrow their beliaviours from the great. 
 
 (Jo//// V. i. 51.) 
 
 And those who set the fashion are described as the glass 
 before which others dress. Thus, Hamlet is spoken of by 
 Ophelia as — 
 
 The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, 
 The observed of all observers. 
 
 {Ham. III. i. 161). 
 
 Leonatus is — 
 
 A sample to the 3'oungest, to the more mature 
 
 A glass ilvciif cated them. 
 
 {Cymb. I. i. 48). 
 
 Feaied being equivalent to "formed, fashioned, moulded" 
 (Dyce). Lady Percy speaks in the same way of her 
 deceased lord, the brave Hotspur, and she also, like 
 Portia, gives a sort of inventory of the garments which he 
 wore in his behaviour, and which others put on by imita- 
 tion, dressing themselves at his glass.
 
 THE GLASS OF BEHAVIOUR. II9 
 
 He was indeed the glass 
 Wliereiii the noble youth did dress themselves; 
 He had no legs that practised not his gait; 
 And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, 
 Became the accents of the valiant, .... 
 
 So that in speech, in gait, 
 
 In diet, in affections of delight, 
 
 In military rules, humours of blood. 
 
 He was the mark and glass, copy and book. 
 
 That fashioned others. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. II. iii. 21). 
 
 The philosophic principle, on which all this poetry is con- 
 sciously founded, is given in dry, scientific statement, 
 without dramatic illustration, in Bacon's prose. Com- 
 menting on Proverbs xxvii. ig, " As the face is reflected in 
 the water, so is the heart of man manifest to the wise," he 
 writes : — " Here is distinguished between the mind of a 
 wise man and that of others ; the former being compared 
 to water, or a glass, which represents the forms and images 
 of things ; the other to the earth, or an unpolished stone, 
 which give no reflection. And this comparison of the 
 mind of a wise man to a glass is the more proper, because 
 in a glass he can see his own image, together with the 
 images of others, which the eye itself without a glass 
 cannot do. But if the mind of a wise man is sufficiently 
 large to observe and distinguish an infinite variety of dis- 
 positions and characters, it only remains to take care that 
 the application be as various as the representation. ' A 
 wise man will know how to adapt himself to all sorts of 
 characters.'" {De Aug. VIII. ii. Prov. xxxiv.) 
 
 "It is best wisdom in any man in his own matters to 
 rest in the wisdom of a friend ; for who can, by often 
 looking in the glass, discern and judge so well of his 
 own favor, as another with whom he converseth." 
 Letter to Essex (" Life " I. 235). 
 
 " The second way (to attain experience of forms or 
 behaviour) is by imitation. And to that end good choice 
 is to be made of those with whom you converse ; there-
 
 120 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 fore 3'our Lordship should affect their company whom 
 you find to be the worthiest, and not partially* think 
 
 them most w^orthy whom you affect When you 
 
 see infinite variety of behaviour and manners of men, you 
 may choose and imitate the best. (Letter to Rutland. 
 "Life" II. 8-10). 
 
 The striking resemblance between these sentiments and 
 those expressed many times in Shakespeare must be 
 obvious to any careful student. 
 
 Since j'ou cannot see yourself 
 
 So well as by reflection, I, your glass, 
 
 Will modestly discover to yourself 
 
 That of yourself whicli you yet know not of. 
 
 {'Jul. Civs. II. i. 67). 
 
 The beauty that is borne here in the face 
 The bearer knows not, but commends itself 
 To others' eyes ; nor doth the eye itself. 
 That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself, 
 Not going from itself ; but eye to eye opposed 
 Salutes each other with each other's form : 
 For speculation turns not to itself, 
 Till it hath travelled, and is mirror 'd there. 
 Where it may see itself. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. III. iii. 103 j. 
 
 Well, Brutus, tliou art noble : yet I see 
 Thy honourable mettle may be wrought 
 From that it is disposed. Therefore 'tis meet 
 That noble minds keep ever with their likes ; 
 For wlio so wise that cannot be seduced ? 
 
 {'Jul. Cns. I. ii. 312). 
 
 And Bacon himself might have put the following into 
 his "Essays" — as, indeed, he has done in other words. 
 Falstaff in delivering a genuine Baconian Essay, says, 
 
 It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, 
 
 ■*Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear ; 
 Their own transgressions partially they smother. 
 
 {Ijtcrcce 633).
 
 THE PRINCE IN MASQUERADE. 121 
 
 as men take diseases, one of another. Therefore, let men take heed 
 of their company. — 2 Hen. IV. V. (last long speech}. 
 
 Bacon's conception of behaviour as a garment, a loose- 
 fitting, changeable vestment, must be kept in mind if we 
 would understand Shakespeare's picture of Prince Hal, the 
 young prince, who is outwardly wild, but really serious, 
 ready as soon as the time comes to wear the royal robes, as 
 Henry V., with wisdom and majesty. The psychological 
 enigma involved in this sudden change has been a 
 stumbling-block to many readers, and to most critics. 
 The solution is evidentl}' to be found in Bacon's clothes 
 philosophy, which the prince uses in the account he gives 
 of himself: — 
 
 Herein will I imitate the sun, 
 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
 To smother up his beauty from the world ; . . . 
 But when this loose behaviour I throw of, . . . 
 By liow much better than my word I am, 
 By so much shall I falsify men's hopes. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. I. ii. 221). 
 
 Note here, the ambiguous, or rather double meanmg of 
 the word loose — one meaning from the clothes philosophy, 
 the other from ethics — changeable or disorderly. The 
 same ambiguity is found in the use of the same word in a 
 passage already quoted from Love's Labour's Lost V. ii. 
 776. 
 
 Which parti-coated presence of loose love. 
 
 This Apologia of the Prince shews that in his wild days 
 he was wearing a disguise, — a strange dress, which he 
 could put off as soon as it had served (or " suited ") his 
 purpose. Even the "base contagious clouds " carry out 
 the same idea — they are worn by the sun for a time like a 
 mask, as long as he wishes to hide himself. 
 
 There is another very curious extension of this clothes 
 philosophy. If behaviour is a garment, it may be, — and 
 probably is, — not constructed by the wearer, but by some one
 
 122 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 who represents his tailor, And there are many passages 
 in which a man is represented as made by his tailor. This 
 is anticipated, as an undeveloped fancy, in the letter to 
 Rutland, already quoted : "A deformed body can never 
 be so helped by tailor's art but the counterfeit will appear." 
 In Shakespeare this reference to the tailor's art as fashion- 
 ing the man himself is always employed with some degree 
 of contempt : the scorn for "counterfeit" is apparent. 
 This idea is more or less clearly reflected in the following 
 passages : — 
 
 " Now, the melancholy God protect thee ; and the tailor make thy 
 doublet ot changeable taffeta ; for thy mind is a very opal " (Tivclfili 
 yighf II. iv. 77). 
 
 Taffeta is a kind of shot silk, changeable in its colour ; 
 and opal is "a gem which varies in appearance as it is 
 viewed in different lights." (Dyce, quoting Steevens). 
 Cloten, the vulgar ruffian prince, claims the homage due 
 to rank as indicated by his clothes ; and the true prince in 
 rustic garb, Guiderius, detects the counterfeit, and sees 
 only a tailor-made prince : — 
 
 Cloicii. — Thou villain base, 
 
 Know'st me not b}' my clothes ? 
 
 Gitid. — No, nor thy tailor, rascal, 
 
 Who is thy grandfather ; he made those clothes, 
 Which, as it seems, make thee. 
 
 {Cymb. IV. ii. 80). 
 
 So in Lear, Kent, in his scorn for Goneril's steward, 
 Oswald, says. 
 
 You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee : a tailor made thee. 
 Cornwall. — Thou art a strange fellow : a tailor make a man ? 
 
 {Lear II. ii. 59). 
 
 As behaviour is a changeable fashion, so facial expres- 
 sion, as Bacon teaches us, being the most significant 
 element in behaviour, can be changed at pleasure. It can be 
 put on or put off like a garment. Bacon discourses on the
 
 THE GOVERNMENT OF THE FACE. I23 
 
 " government of the face and countenance" as a branch of 
 that part of civil knowledge, in which conversation is con- 
 cerned. "For, look what an effect is produced by the 
 countenance and the carriage of it. Well says the poet, 
 ' Nee vultu destrue verba tua. ' (Do not falsify your words 
 by your looks). For a man may destroy and betray the 
 force of his words by his countenance. ... So we see 
 Atticus, before the first interview between Caesar and 
 Cicero, the war still depending, carefully and serious!}' 
 advised Cicero touching the composing and ordering of 
 his countenance and gesture." And the philosophy of 
 behaviour as the garment of the mind follows almost im- 
 mediately. See " De Augmentis " VIII. i. The Latin 
 motto here quoted is twice entered in the " Promus " 
 (985 and 1026). And a similar proverb is also noted, 
 *' Vultu Iceditur saepe pietas." (51). (A man's piety is often 
 damaged by the expression of his features): — shewing how 
 strong a hold this sentiment had on Bacon's m.ind. All 
 this is clearly reflected in Shakespeare. Brutus wishes his 
 fellow conspirators to employ this stratagem of the actor's 
 art : — 
 
 Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily ! 
 Let not our looks piii on our purposes 
 But bear it as our Roman actors do, 
 With untired spirits and formal constancy. 
 
 {Julius Ccesar II. i. 224). 
 
 Lady Macbeth gives the same counsel to her husband ; 
 every line is redolent of the clothes philosophy : — 
 
 Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks ; 
 Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night. 
 
 Macb. — So shall I, love : and so, I pray, be you : 
 
 Let your remembrance apply to Banquo ; 
 
 Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue ; 
 
 Unsafe the while, that we 
 
 Must lave our honours in these flattering streams, 
 
 And make our faces vizards to our hearts, 
 
 Disguising what they are. 
 
 {Macb. III. ii. 2^).
 
 124 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Away, and mock the lime with fairest show : 
 
 False face must liide what the false heart doth know. 
 
 {lb. I. vii. 8i). 
 
 The Clarendon Editor very aptly illustrates the above 
 use of the word apply by the following quotation from 
 Bacon's Essay of "Ceremonies," where the sentiment ex- 
 pressed in the text is most exactly presented : — 
 
 "To apply one's self to others is good, so it be done with 
 demonstration that a man doeth it with regard, and not 
 upon facility," which is the same as "Present him emi- 
 nence both with eye and tongue." 
 
 Very much the same counsel is given by the King to 
 Laertes when the two are plotting together for Hamlet's 
 assassination : — 
 
 Weigh what convenience both of time and means 
 
 May fit us to our shape : if this should fail, 
 
 And that our drift look through our bad performance, 
 
 'Twere better not assay'd : therefore this project 
 
 Should have a back or second, that might hold 
 
 If this should blast in proof. 
 
 {Ham. IV. vii. 150). 
 
 This is strangely Baconian, as Colonel Moore has pointed 
 out (see " Bacon Journal " I. 192). The same astute calcula- 
 tion is thus described by Bacon : — " For in every particular 
 action a man ought so to direct and prepare his mind, and 
 should have one intention so underlying and subordinate 
 to another, that if he cannot obtain his wishes in the best 
 degree, he may yet be satisfied if he succeeds in a second 
 or even a third." {De Augmentis VIII. ii.). 
 
 In all these cases, and in countless others we find a 
 philosophic, scientific, prosaic statement of the principles, 
 which live and act in the Shakespearian drama. Com- 
 paring Shakespeare's art with Bacon's philosophy, we find 
 that 
 
 The art and practic part of life 
 Must be tlie mistress to this theoric. 
 
 {Hen. V. I. \. si)
 
 SCIENCE BODIED IN POETRY. I25 
 
 In the language of mystic philosophy Shakespeare's art 
 is the continent and ultimate of Bacon's philosophy : there 
 is a perfect correspondence and continuity between them. 
 As the natural world is created by influx from the spiritual 
 world, and is its counterpart and representative, so is the 
 poetry of Shakespeare poured forth as influx from the 
 creative thought of Bacon's science, giving to it a concrete: 
 presentation, a living, organised counterpart.
 
 126 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LOVE AND BUSINESS. 
 
 Bacon's Essay of " Love " compared with the 
 Treatment of Love in Shakespeare. 
 
 In Tennyson's " Life " (II. 424) the following occurs in a 
 letter to a friend : — "I have just had a letter from a man 
 who wants my opinion as to whether Shakespeare's Plays 
 were written by Bacon. I feel inclined to write back, 
 ' Don't be a fool, sir! ' The way in which Bacon speaks of 
 love would be enough to prove that he was not Shake- 
 speare. ' I know not how, but martial men are given to 
 love. I think it is but as they are given to wine, for perils 
 commonly asked to be paid in pleasures.' How could a 
 man with such an idea of love write Romeo and Juliet ? " 
 
 And 3^et even Tennyson might have paused before 
 shutting off the claims for Bacon with such resolute in- 
 credulity, not to say unexpressed incivility. For he 
 himself had found in Bacon qualities which are at first 
 sight quite as incompatible with an unromantic view of 
 love, as he supposed Shakespeare to be. Tennyson had 
 been on one occasion speaking of Lord Bacon, and said, 
 " That certain passages of his writings, their frequent 
 eloquence and vivid completeness lifted him more than 
 those of almost any other writer." And of the Essays he 
 said, "There is more wisdom compressed into that small 
 volume than in any other book of the same size that I 
 know." ("Life" II. 76, 415). Clearly, then, any unfavour- 
 able impression derived from one or two passages in a 
 5mall Essay may be corrected and perhaps even vindicated
 
 THE STUMBLING-BLOCK. 127 
 
 when a larger view is taken. What more could he say of 
 Shakespeare's wisdom than this ? 
 
 The objection which Tennyson expressed so energeti- 
 cally is one that is often raised when the Baconian theory 
 is under discussion. 
 
 The Problem. 
 
 1. It has often been objected to the Baconian theory, 
 that the author of the Essay of " Love"' and of " Marriage 
 and Single Life " could not also have written the exquisite 
 love scenes of the Shakespeare plays. Bacon's view of 
 love, it is said, is so cold, so passionless, so unromantic, 
 that he was evidently incapable of understanding or 
 sympathising with the sweeter aspects of the tender 
 passion. This objection is presented in a ver\' triumphant 
 way, as at once settling the whole question, and indeed 
 many Baconians at first find it staggering and embarrass- 
 ing in the highest degree, — an argument which it is 
 extremel}' difficult to meet. It is worth while then to 
 examine it somewhat carefully ; and in doing so the 
 polemics of the case need not blind us to the exceedingly 
 interesting and suggestive comparisons, which it necessi- 
 tates between the poet and the essayist. 
 
 Those who urge this objection, do so, it seems to me, in 
 a very loose way, not attempting to estimate the real 
 purpose or import of the Essays : not taking any very 
 comprehensive view of the attitude of the Shakepearean 
 poet to the sentiment of love. If the two are to be com- 
 pared, it is only fair to make a quantitative and qualitative 
 analysis of both. 
 
 Mistaken View of the Essay. 
 
 2. Bacon speaks in his Preface of a double purpose in 
 his Essays: "They come home to men's business and 
 bosoms." One might suppose that if he wrote on love 
 and marriage, the "bosom" side of his readers would be
 
 128 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 especiall)' addressed. But it is not so : the bosoiu side is 
 neglected — the topic of the Essay is the business side of this 
 question. The Essays are very brief, very aphoristic, very 
 concentrated, never discursive or rhetorical, but severely 
 reflective and practical. It is true that poetic touches of 
 the most exquisite character constantly present themselves. 
 The Essay of " Adversity," for instance, is a most perfect 
 poem. But on the whole, in the Essays emotion is sup- 
 pressed, business is supreme. Anyone who goes to the 
 Essay of " Love " for a complete account of Love in all its 
 points of contact with life and experience, is on a wrong 
 quest. Love from the Statesman's and Philosopher's point 
 of view, — love as related to what we might now call 
 politics or economics, — love in its bearing on public life 
 and " business," is the real topic and no other. The mere 
 title "Of Love,"— ''Of Marriage and Single Life,"— does 
 not justify anyone in assuming that the text shall contain 
 exactly what he expects — exactly what he would have 
 written on these topics. These Essays are not accommo- 
 dated to the preconceptions of a Ninteenth Century reader, 
 whose mind is saturated with the fiction, romance or 
 poetry of its literature. And Bacon does not trouble him- 
 self to define his limits ; any capable reader, who is 
 entitled to criticise, can do that for himself. Such a 
 reader will not be slow to perceive that here is nothing 
 like a rhapsody, — not even an exhaustive psychologic or 
 physiologic account of the passion or sentiment of love, 
 but something entirely different. Many critics, strange to 
 say, have started with the most unreasonable claim that 
 Bacon's discourse on love shall contain not only what they 
 think he ought to say, but all that he himself had to say — 
 the whole continent of his thoughts and feelings about 
 love. And if he does not satisfy these most unreasonable 
 preconceptions, they, measuring the great man by their 
 own small foot-rule, think themselves justified in writing 
 about him in this style: — "Bacon knows nothing of the 
 valuable influence of unselfish and holv love for a fair
 
 SELF-SATISFIED CRITICS. I29 
 
 mind in a fair body. His prudential treatment of the 
 whole subject is scarcely better than the sneers of La 
 Rochefoucauld." "His cold philosophic nature was in- 
 capable of feeling or even imagining the loves of a 
 Cornelia and Paulus, a Posthumus and Imogen." (Storr 
 and Gibson's Edition of Essays.) Anything more narrow 
 and impertinent than this it is difficult to conceive. These 
 pedagogic censors of a great man make Bacon a sort of 
 universal provider, and think themselves at liberty to enter 
 his study (or shop) and order three courses and a dessert 
 according to their own fancy ; and to whip and scold him, 
 and sprinkle their bad marks over his exercises, whenever 
 their order is not duly executed. Of such irreverent and 
 self-sufficient critics Coleridge was thinking when he 
 describes a self-confident critic who "puts on the seven 
 league boots of self-opinion, and strides at once from an 
 illustrator into a supreme judge ; and, blind and deaf, fills 
 his three ounce vial at the Waters of Niagara, and deter- 
 mines at once the greatness of the Cataract to be neither 
 more nor less than his three ounce vial has been able to 
 receive." 
 
 The Essay of Love — Its Real Import. 
 
 3. Bacon does not entirely ignore the romantic side of 
 love, but he refers it to different treatment. " The stage," 
 he says, "* is more beholding to love than the life of man." 
 In his Essay he is speaking of a somewhat neglected view 
 of love. If it is predominant it is a "weak passion;" it 
 may not govern all the actions of life. Walter Savage 
 Landor expresses much the same idea: "Love is a 
 secondary passion in those who love most ; a primary in 
 those who love least." {Imag. Conv. Ascham and Lady 
 Jane Grey.) Love, in Bacon's view, is for the privacy of 
 home ; if it follows its votary into the street it becomes an 
 enfeebling influence : "it checks with business; it troubleth 
 men's fortunes, and maketh men that they can no ways be 
 true to their own ends."' " Great spirits and great business 
 
 K
 
 130 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN HACOMAN LIGHT. 
 
 do keep out this weak passion." " It is a strange thing to 
 note the excess of this passion, and how it braves the 
 nature and value of things by this, that the speaking in a 
 perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but love." "He 
 that preferred Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas; 
 for whosoever esteemeth too much of amorous affection 
 quitteth both riches and wisdom." " Amare et sapere 
 vix Deo conceditur." " Love is the child of folly. They 
 do best who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make it 
 keep quarter, and sever it wholly from their serious aifairs 
 and actions of life." This is not a popular view of love, 
 but it may be true nevertheless, and it may be held by one 
 who is no cynic, not a cold-blooded, self-centred, worldly- 
 minded egotist, but a keen observer, who will not suffer 
 his view of the realities of life to be distorted by romance. 
 It is a permissible theory that love is for private, household 
 use ; that, like religion, it must enter into its closet and 
 shut the door ; that If it intrudes into the market place it is 
 both weak and ridiculous, and hinders the lawful business 
 of the place. This is Bacon's position, stated with his 
 usual epigrammatic terseness, not fenced by such explana- 
 tions as purblind readers need in order to keep them from 
 stumbling. And this neglected view is exactly what might 
 be expected from a writer who has no relish for conven- 
 tional platitudes, no room for common-places, and who 
 knows quite well that fair and competent critics will judge 
 him, not from one utterance, but from an impartial and com- 
 prehensive study of his whole life, and of all his writings. 
 
 Bacon's Praise of the Worthiest Affection. 
 
 4. Bacon points to the Drama as the most suitable stage 
 for the portraiture of love ; and his scanty reference to it in 
 his prose writings is naturally explained by those who 
 know how magnificently he poured out all the treasures of 
 his heart, his fanc}', and his intellect in his dramatic 
 poetry. There is, however, one prose composition, which, 
 occurring in a masque, belongs properly to dramatic
 
 BACON S EULOGY OF LOVE. 13I 
 
 literature, in which love is the theme of most eloquent and 
 poetic eulogy. This is to be found, in a mutilated form, 
 in the "Conference of Pleasure." which contains a discourse 
 "in praise of the worthiest affection." The speech is too 
 long for quotation, but as this delightful piece is not easily 
 obtainable, I give a sample : "As for other affections they 
 be but sufferings of nature ; they seek ransoms and 
 rescues from that which is evil, not enjoying a union 
 with that which is good. They seek to expel that which is 
 contrary, not to attract that which is agreeable. Fear and 
 grief, — the traitors of nature. Bashfulness, — a thraldom 
 to every man's concept and countenance. Pity, — a con- 
 federacy with the miserable. Desire of revenge, — the 
 supplying of a wound. All these endeavour to keep the 
 main stock of nature, to preserve her from loss and dimi- 
 nution. But love is a pure gain and advancement in 
 nature ; it is not a good by comparison, but a true good ; 
 it is not an ease of pain, but a true purchase of pleasures ; 
 and therefore, when our minds are soundest, when they 
 are not, as it were, in sickness and therefore out of taste, 
 but when we be in prosperity, when we want nothing, 
 then is the season, and the opportunity, and the spring of 
 love. And as it springeth not out of ill, so it is not inter- 
 mixed with ill : it is not like the virtues, which by a steep 
 and ragged way conduct us to a plain, and are hard task- 
 masters at first, and after give an honourable hire ; but the 
 first aspect of love, and all that followeth, is gracious and 
 pleasant." 
 
 Let us now see if the Shakesperean treatment of love 
 differs in any essential respect from Bacon's. My conten- 
 tion is, that they are curiously identical, — so much so as 
 to supply, on a very extended scale, one of those striking 
 correspondences between the two groups of writings, which 
 in their accumulation point irresistibly to identity of 
 authorship. 
 
 Restricted Use of Love in Shakespeare. 
 5. One of the most striking features of the Shakesperean
 
 132 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 drama is the extremely restricted use it makes of love, 
 which is supposed to be the foundation and pivot of 
 dramatic art. The exceeding beauty and attractiveness of 
 the love pictures actually given, blinds us to their rarity : 
 they attract so much interest as almost to absorb the con- 
 sideration of the reader or spectator, and put other scenes 
 into the shade. Also the charm of these love pictures is so 
 great that we are apt to forget that they are often set in a 
 framework of weakness, confusion, or disorder, — that there 
 is a canker of decay in even the loveliest of these flowers. 
 Apart from this it is to be remarked that in a large propor- 
 tion of the plays love is either entirely absent or completely 
 subordinate, — not the main centre of interest or action. 
 And again, even where some slight love element is intro- 
 duced, it may be not only very unimportant, but entirely 
 destitute of romance or fascination. Mr. T. W. White, 
 among other critics, notes this fact as very remarkable. 
 He says, "Shakespeare is almost alone among his contem- 
 poraries and successors in frequently rejecting love as the 
 motive of his drama ; " and the conclusion at which Mr. 
 White arrives is, that the poet had a weak animal develop- 
 ment ! "Shakespeare, in the selected passages (from 
 Hamlet) to which we have referred, manifests a total 
 insensibility to the gross passion of love. In descriptions 
 of Platonic affection and conventional gallantry he is un- 
 surpassed ; but when he essays to be personally tender, 
 his muse becomes tediously perfunctory, as we see in 
 Hamlet." ("Our English Homer," pp. 31, 122). 
 
 I quote these passages, not as agreeing with them 
 entirely. Mr. White is often inaccurate, still more fre- 
 quently eccentric and paradoxical, and sometimes, as it 
 seems to me, strangely purblind. But his judgment may 
 be taken as a tolerably accurate representation of the 
 conclusion likely to be formed by any one who fairly 
 fronts the question, and is not misled by early and crude 
 impressions. 
 
 If, however, we may briefly run through the plays,.
 
 THE HISTORICAL PLAYS. 133 
 
 taking a swift glance at each, the resemblance between the 
 Shakesperean and the Baconian view of love will become 
 distinct and even startling. 
 
 Love in the Historical Plays. 
 
 6. First of all, let us look at the Historical Plays. In 
 these love is throughout subordinate, and in some it is 
 entirely absent. 
 
 It is absent from John, and Richard II. 
 
 In I Henry IV. it is incidentally introduced in the persons 
 of Hotspur and Lady Percy, and it shows Hotspur so 
 intent on business as almost to neglect his wife, and 
 provoke her reproaches. 
 
 O, my good lord, why are you thus alone ? 
 For what offence have I this fortnight been 
 A banished woman from my Harry's bed ? 
 
 And then she tells him how she has watched him, awake 
 and asleep, and finds that his mind is occupied with 
 concerns in which she is not permitted to share : — 
 
 Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
 And I must know it, else he loves me not . . . 
 In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, 
 And if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 
 
 But the "mad-headed ape," the "weasel toss'd with such 
 a deal of spleen," "the paraquito," as she with playful 
 irritation calls him, brusquely puts her off with, — 
 
 Awa}', 3^ou Trifler ! Love ! I love thee not, 
 I care not for thee, Kate. 
 
 And then, in reply to her pained remonstrance, he replies : 
 
 Come, wilt thou see me ride ? 
 And when I am o' horseback, I will swear 
 I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate, 
 I must not have you hencefortli question me 
 Whither I go, nor reason whereabout :
 
 134 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Whither I must, I must. 
 
 (Sec I Hill. /['. II. iii. 40 — 120). 
 
 It is a charming picture of true love on both sides ; but the 
 husband has his love in check, and when the wife tries to 
 spy into his business, he gaily thwarts her, being evidently 
 resolved to keep his active life as a warrior and politician 
 entirely unembarrassed by domestic ties. 
 
 If any one looks for love; scenes in 2 Hen. IV., he must 
 find them in company with Doll Tear-sheet, or be content 
 to miss them altogether. 
 
 In Henry V. there is a pretty wooing scene between the 
 King and the French Princess. In this wooing, however, 
 there is more policy than passion. The whole transaction 
 turns on considerations of State advantage and Royal con- 
 venience. Here is a specimen ; it is all in prose : — 
 
 Before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly nor gasp out mv 
 eloquence, nor have I no cunning in protestation ; only downright 
 oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. 
 . . . I speak to thee plain soldier : if thou canst love me for 
 this, take me ; if not, to say to thee I shall die, is true ; but for 
 thy love, by the Lord, No ! 3'et I love thee too. — (See the whole 
 scene in Hcii. F. V. ii.) 
 
 There is a good deal of this kind of self-possessed, — one 
 may even say, self-centred love-making. It is the ideal 
 portrait of a man who "if he cannot but admit love, 
 yet makes it keep quarter." It shews in what way 
 and how far "martial men are given to love. I think 
 it is but as they are given to wine, for perils commonly ask 
 to be paid in pleasures : " a compensation to be duly paid 
 when the business is transacted. 
 
 The play of i Henry VI. contains one wooing incident, 
 but no love. The wooing is by proxy, and the alliance is 
 entirely dictated by State policy. See Act V. sc. v. 
 
 There is nothing of the kind in 2 or 3 Henry VI. 
 
 In Richard III. love is very sparingly introduced, almost 
 ignored, and wdien introduced, most curiously blended with
 
 LOVE RULES NOT : BUT IS RULED, I35 
 
 hatred and repugnance. At the beginning of the play we 
 come upon a fantastic mockery of courtship. The cynical 
 wooer, for reasons connected solely with self-advancement, 
 manages to change the lady's curses into caresses, and then 
 jestingly exclaims, — 
 
 Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? 
 Was ever woman in this humour won ? 
 
 [Rich. III. I.ii. 228). 
 
 The drama of Henry VIII. shews a royal lover, whose 
 many courtships and espousals, so far from interfering 
 with business, are entirel}' subservient to State considera- 
 tions. The love of Queen Katherine is found to be in- 
 consistent with the interests of royalty. The Queen, 
 however, refuses to submit her married rights to such 
 control, and urges them upon a spouse, who is determined 
 that they shall not "check with his business," or " trouble 
 his fortunes." Her claims are gently, but effectually put 
 aside. 
 
 We see then, that throughout the Historical plays love 
 is managed, it never swaj's. It may be said that the 
 Histories, from the very nature of the case, must show the 
 public side of life, that their one aim is to present past 
 events in a vivid, pictorial way. Consequently, love could 
 not be introduced where the incidents did not supply it. 
 This is only partially true. At any rate it is highly 
 significant that the Shakespearean poet should, to so large 
 an extent, make selection of subjects which accept this 
 limitation. And it is also to be noted, that every con- 
 structor of an historical romance feels himself at liberty 
 to embellish and enhance the attraction of historic truth 
 by additional touches derived from his own fancy, and 
 as a rule these invented embellishments consist of love 
 scenes. It is, then, not a little remarkable that Shake- 
 speare takes no pains so to select or record his historic 
 facts, that they may bear the freightage of love episodes, 
 created by himself: he does not find it necessary to
 
 136 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 shape the structure of his dramas, as he assuredly might, 
 so as to heighten their interest by the glow and radiance 
 of passion. In most other hands doubtless love passages 
 would have been added, even if the history had to be 
 strained in order to find place for them. 
 
 We find, then, that every one of the love incidents in 
 the historic plays might be taken as cases in point, ex- 
 pressly intended to illustrate the philosophy of love, 
 marriage, and business, as expounded in the Baconian 
 '•Essays:" a conclusion, I imagine, which few readers 
 would anticipate. 
 
 Love in the Tragedies. 
 
 7. The Tragedies, as might be expected, give us some 
 excellent pictures of the Romantic side of love. Here, 
 then, we shall perhaps, find the want of harmony between 
 the "Essays" and the "Plays," on which the critics so 
 vauntingly descant. Let us see if this is really the case. 
 
 Troilus and Cressida is certainly not a love Tp\a.y. The 
 puzzle of it, — if it was written by a theatrical manager for 
 business purposes, — is how such a profound study of moral, 
 social, and political philosophy could have ever been put 
 upon the boards. A love scene is, indeed, the central 
 incident of the plot ; but there is a wanton element in it. 
 There is a startling contrast between the exquisite beauty 
 and rapture of the vows, which the lovers utter when they 
 are wooing, and the subsequent infidelity of the lady, who 
 had protested so ardently her eternal constancy. It is an 
 episode in the great drama, and one of weakness and 
 shame. None of the noblest persons in the play have any 
 share in this part of it, nor any love passages of their own. 
 In reading it we are reminded of Bacon's remark, "You 
 may observe that amongst all the great and worthy persons, 
 whereof the memory remaineth, either ancient or modern, 
 there is not one that hath been transported to the mad 
 degree of love : which shews that great spirits and great 
 business do keep out this weak passion." This maxim
 
 LOVE IN THE TRAGEDIES. 137 
 
 certainly applies to this play and to all the Shakespearean 
 drama. Another of the maxims which has been alread}' 
 quoted, as to love braving the nature of things by its per- 
 petual hyperbole, is exactly reproduced with added 
 cynicism in the following : — 
 
 Tro. — O, let my lady apprehend no fear, in all Cupid's pageant 
 there is presented no monster. 
 
 Cres. — Nor nothing monstrous either ? 
 
 Tro. — Nothing, but our undertakings : when we vow to weep 
 seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers : thinking it harder for our 
 mistress to devise imposition enough, than for us to undergo any 
 difficulty imposed. This is the monstrosity in love, lady, that the 
 will is infinite and the execution confined, that the desire is bound- 
 less and the act a slave to limit. 
 
 Cres. — They say, all lovers swear more performance than they are 
 able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing 
 more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth 
 part of one. They that have the voice of hons, and the act of hares, 
 are they not monsters ? {Tro. Cres. III. ii. 71). 
 
 In Coriolanus the love element is absent. It is how- 
 ever worthy of remark, that the personal appeal of the 
 women and children of Rome, by which the vengeance of 
 the hero is averted, is spoken by the mother, who has out- 
 lived the romance of her young days, not by the wife. 
 Doubtless history required this ; but it did not dictate 
 such a striking contrast as that we find between the 
 strength of the widowed mother, and the feebleness, tame- 
 ness, almost insipidity of the wedded wife. The widow is 
 self-reliant and masterful ; the tender, plastic period of her 
 life has passed ; while the wife is timid, shrinking, help- 
 less, incapable of action or of cheerfulness without the 
 stimulus of her husband's presence. During his absence 
 she can only sit at home, musing and mooning, and pining 
 and watching for his return. 
 
 Titus Andronicus is a play of the dramatic's earlier time, 
 written in what Count Vitzthum calls the "Marlowe 
 period " of Bacon's life. And in a play of this period, if
 
 138 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 anywhere, one might expect to see love pictured in its 
 romance and fascination. But it is entirely absent. Or, 
 if present at all, its demonic aspect alone is presented : it is 
 associated with those revolting scenes of blood, and 
 horror, and cruelty, and outrage, which make this play as 
 much a puzzle as Bacon himself, or the Baconian theory. 
 The critics would gladly hand it over to Marlowe, and 
 many of them do s^. 
 
 But in Romeo and Juliet : surely romantic and passion- 
 ate love is here ! Yes, truly it is ; but it is a consuming 
 passion which blasts and ruins its victims, and spoils them 
 for the practical "business" of life. The perfect and 
 matchless beauty of the picture may well make us oblivious 
 of the latent moral — " This passion hath his floods in the 
 very time of weakness." The play is a commentary on 
 Bacon's aphorism — "In life it doth much mischief, some- 
 times like a siren, sometimes like a Fury : " both the siren 
 and the Fury appear in the play. The moral is, the fatal 
 consequence of being "transported to the mad degree of 
 love." Friar Lawrence draws the moral : — 
 
 These violent delights have violent ends, 
 
 And in their triumpli die ; lilce fire and powder, 
 
 Which as they kiss consume : the sweetest hone}^ 
 
 Is loathsome in liis own deliciousness, 
 
 And in the taste confounds the appetite. 
 
 Therefore love moderately ; long love doth so ; 
 
 Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 
 
 {Rom. Jul. II. vi. 9). 
 
 Love is shewn as " one of those bodies which they call 
 imperfectc niista, which last not, but are speedily dissolved." 
 (" Life," III. 94). It is full of paradox :— 
 
 O lieavy lightness ! serious vanity ! 
 
 Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms ! 
 
 Feather of lead ! bright smoke ! cold fire ! sick health ! 
 
 Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is ! 
 
 [lb. I. i. 184.) 
 
 When Romeo's wooing is interrupted by his banishment, 
 he is ready to destroy himself, and well does he deserve
 
 FRIAR LAWRENCE S INVECTIVE. I39 
 
 the long lecture on fortitude which Friar Lawrence ad- 
 dresses to him, shewing that the passion which possesses 
 him is essentiall}^ a "weak passion." These are the 
 scathing terms, which the judicious priest considers 
 appropriate : — 
 
 Art thou a man r thy form cries that thou art : 
 Thy tears are womanish ; thy wild acts denote 
 The unreasonable fury of a beast : 
 Unseemly woman in a seeming man ! 
 Or ill beseeming beast in seeming both ! 
 Thou hast amazed me : bv m}^ holy order 
 I thought thy disposition better temper'd. 
 
 [RoiJ!. 'Jill. III. iii. 109). 
 
 Fie ! Fie ! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, th}' wit . . . 
 
 Th)^ noble shape is but a form of wax, 
 
 Digressing from the valour of a man. 
 
 Thy dear love sworn, but hollow perjur}-, 
 
 Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish. 
 
 Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, 
 
 Misshapen in tlie conduct of them both, 
 
 Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask. 
 
 Is set afire by thine own ignorance, 
 
 And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. 
 
 (//). III. iii. 122.) 
 
 Bacon's indictment against love is accurately repro- 
 duced, much augmented and intensified. 
 
 In Timon of Athens, the only two female characters 
 introduced are the two mistresses of Alcibiades. In the 
 whole play love is absolutely ignored. 
 
 In Julius CcBsar Portia is an ideal portrait of a "noble 
 wife," a sweet and stately Roman matron, full of devotion 
 to her lord. But Portia complains, in much the same 
 terms as Hotspur's wife, that Brutus carefully shuts her 
 out from all share in his public life. She is kept severely 
 for home use, and may not follow her lord into the halls 
 and marts of civic business. She too tells her husband 
 how she had observed signs of distraction in him : — 
 
 And when I asked vou what the matter was.
 
 140 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 You stared upon me witli ungentle looks. 
 
 (fill. C^l!S. II. i. 241). 
 
 The strife between love and business could not be better 
 pictured than in this striking scene between Brutus and 
 Portia. 
 
 Brutus is deeply touched by Portia's death, but he hides 
 his emotion, and will not permit even this to weaken him 
 in his public duties. 
 
 Julius Caesar is half persuaded by Calpurnia to absent 
 himself from the Senate House, but the sarcasms of Decius 
 Brutus have more power over him than the terrors and 
 entreaties of his wife. 
 
 Portia and Calpurnia are the only two female characters 
 in this noble drama, and their power and place exactly 
 correspond with the limitations which Bacon defines as 
 the proper enclosure for love. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra presents us with Bacon's own 
 chosen exception to the rule that — "Great spirits and 
 great business do keep out this weak passion. You must 
 except nevertheless Marcus Antonius, the half-partner of 
 the Empire of Rome." The Essay of " Love" is the key 
 which unlocks the meaning of the play. The opening 
 lines bring before us a great spirit mastered and ruined by 
 passion :^ 
 
 Nay ! but this dotage of our General's 
 
 O'erflows the measure : those his goodly e3'es 
 
 That o'er the hies and musters of the war 
 
 Have glowed like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, 
 
 The office and devotion of their view 
 
 Upon a tawny front. 
 
 (Aiif. CIco. I. i. i). 
 
 We might quote half the play to illustrate the senti- 
 ments and cautions of the Essay. In the whole play 
 Bacon's philosophy is speaking articulately, in concrete 
 stage effects. Bacon writes, "They do best who, if they 
 cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarter and sever 
 it wholly from their serious affairs and actions of life."
 
 LOVE UNDER CONTROL. I4I 
 
 This Antony failed to do, and this accounts for the 
 disaster and ruin, which overtakes the lovers and all who 
 are swayed by them. This is the whole motive and idea of 
 the play. The Essay and the play fit one another as text 
 and pictorial illustrations. 
 
 Macbeth and Lear may be passed over without any other 
 comment than that love is entirely absent : no love instance 
 can be extracted from them. In Lear there is some 
 lawless love, no true love. 
 
 In Hamlet love plays a very subordinate but a ve~ry 
 significant part. Hamlet and Ophelia are in love with one 
 another ; she deeply, he sincerely but moderately. He is a 
 "great spirit," and consequently the mad degree of love 
 does not reach him : he can master his passion and make 
 it "keep quarter." The great business to which he has 
 devoted himself is checked by many influences, — by 
 " bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple of thinking too 
 precisely on the event," by his habit of deliberation and 
 procrastination ; but love interposes no obstacle. The very 
 opposite is the case with Ophelia ; love, and its issue in 
 disappointment, overpowers her reason and her will, and 
 leads to the self-slaughter, to which Hamlet also was 
 tempted, but was strong enough to resist. Ophelia's ruin 
 is the result of this "weak passion." The Queen is the 
 text for many of Hamlet's reproaches of womankind : 
 "Frailty, thy name is woman;" "Brief as woman's 
 tears." And Hamlet's opinions about love are the same 
 as Bacon's, but expressed with even greater frankness and 
 cynicism: "If thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool ; for 
 wise men know well enough what monsters you make of 
 them ; " and we know from the discourse in Troilus and 
 Cressida what the poet was thinking of when he spoke of 
 monsters, and how exactly this is reflected in Bacon's 
 Essay. 
 
 In Othello Bacon's text is almost quoted, and is very 
 vividly illustrated. Both the Siren and the Fury appear, 
 and with the Fury its consequent mischief. Othello's love
 
 142 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 is moderate and self-poised : there is no madness in it ; 
 but it is the basis of the jealousy and rage excited by the 
 wily suggestions of lago. Here is the one " weak" point 
 in his nature, through which he becomes plastic to the 
 "tempering" of his Ancient. In everything else he is 
 unassailable : as a lover he is feeble and flexible, and this 
 it is which brings ruin and death, first to Desdemona, and 
 then to himself. Here again Bacon's philosophy is most 
 accurately reflected. Othello is appointed to high military 
 command just at the time of his marriage, and he will not 
 for a moment permit his duty to the State to be interrupted 
 or damaged by the newly- contracted ties. His resolve is 
 almost textually a reproduction of Bacon's Essay :— 
 
 And heaven defend your good souls, that you think 
 
 I will your serious and great business scant 
 
 For she is with me ; no, when light-winged toys 
 
 Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dulness 
 
 My speculative and officed instruments, 
 
 That my disports corrupt and taint my business, 
 
 Let house-wives make a skillet of my helm, 
 
 And all indign and base adversities, 
 
 Make head against mv estimation ! 
 
 {pih. I. iii. 266). 
 
 And to Desdemona he says : — ■ 
 
 Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour 
 
 Of love, of worldly affairs and direction. 
 
 To spend with thee : we must obey the time. {lb. 299), 
 
 In Cymbeline love is not ignored, and it is the only one 
 • of the tragedies, in which the sentiments of the Essay of 
 " Love " are not expressly reflected. But even here there 
 is nothing inconsistent with the Essay. The love of 
 Imogen is a perfect picture of womanly affection and con- 
 stancy : the woman's side is excellently given. But the 
 husband's side is lightly and imperfectly sketched. His 
 heroism, his fortitude, his intellectual power and culture, 
 his trust in his wife's goodness, his agony on finding as he 
 supposes that she is unfaithful, all these are evident : he
 
 LOVE IN THE COMEDIES, I43 
 
 appears rarely and fitfully on the scene, and has no very 
 important relation to the action of the drama. The love 
 element in the play is quite subordinate ; the real dramatic 
 business is independent of it. 
 
 In Pericles love is associated either with romantic 
 adventure or hideous pollution. There is nothing attractive 
 or sacred in it ; it is rather a disturbing than an essential 
 element. It is not omitted, but one could almost wish 
 that it had been. 
 
 So far, then, in the ten histories and twelve tragedies. 
 Bacon's view of love is not only never contradicted, but it 
 is uniformly {Cymheline excepted) reflected, and that with 
 singular, and sometimes almost textual accuracy. 
 
 Perhaps the comedies will supply us with the contrast, 
 which we are so confidently assured exists, between Bacon's 
 conception of love and Shakespeare's pictures of it. Let 
 us open them and see. 
 
 Love in the Comedies. 
 
 8. The Tempest gives us an enchanting picture of the 
 love between Ferdinand and Miranda, and on this incident 
 much of the action of the drama turns. But here love and 
 the work of life are absolutely detached ; and what may be 
 the poet's idea of the relation between them cannot pos- 
 sibly be surmised from the pure fantasy of this exquisite 
 vision. 
 
 The Two Gentlemen of Verona supplies us with a most 
 genuinely Baconian view of love ; it is represented as a 
 source of weakness and folly, and spoils the votary for the 
 true pursuits of life. 
 
 To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans ; 
 
 Coy looks with heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment's mirth 
 
 With twenty watchful, weary, tedious niglits ; 
 
 If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain ; 
 
 If lost, why then a grievous labour won ; 
 
 However but a follv bought with wit, 
 
 Or else a wit by folh' vanquished. 
 
 . . . . As the most forward bud
 
 144 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT, 
 
 Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
 
 Even so by love the young and tender wit 
 
 Is turned to folly. 
 
 And Proteus, as he takes farewell of Valentine, who 
 goes, 
 
 To see tlie wonders of the world abroad, 
 
 while he remains "living dully sluggardized at home," 
 thus moralizes, — 
 
 He after honour hunts, I after love ; 
 He leaves his friends to dignify them more ; 
 I leave myself, my friends, and all, for love. 
 Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me. 
 Made me neglect my studies, lose my time. 
 War with good counsel, set the world at nought. 
 Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.* 
 
 {Two Gent. I. sc. i. I. i — 69). 
 
 Julia's own impressions are not very different : 
 
 Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, 
 That like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, 
 Then presentlv, all humbled, kiss the rod. 
 
 {lb. I. ii. 57^. 
 
 The special marks of a lover, enumerated by Speed, are 
 every one of them tokens of weakness, or of unnatural 
 transformation. 
 
 "You have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, like a 
 malcontent ; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast ; to walk 
 alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that 
 hath lost his A. B.C. ; to weep, like a young wench that hath buried 
 her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that 
 fears robbing ; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You 
 were wont, when you laughed, to crow like acock; when you walked, 
 to walk like one of the lions ; wlien you fasted, it was presently after 
 
 •■■ En passant, observe the interesting anticipation of the leading 
 motif of Hamlet in the last two lines. The same infirmities, as inci- 
 dent to studious pursuits, are alluded to in Bacon's "Advancement of 
 Learning," I. ii. i and 4.
 
 LOVE IN THE COMEDIES. I45 
 
 dinner ; when you looked sadly it was for want of money ; and now 
 you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on 3'ou I 
 can hardly think you my master." (lb. II. i. i8j. 
 
 The metamorphosis, thus referred to, is the same con- 
 dition that Bacon describes as "transported to the mad 
 degree of love." The play does not omit to speak of the 
 "blmdness," and "folly" of love. And the "perpetual 
 hyperbole " of the lover provokes the exclamation, 
 
 Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this ? 
 
 {lb. II. iv. 164). 
 
 Nothing could possibly match the Essay better than the 
 poetry of this play. 
 
 There is little genuine love in the Merry Wives. The 
 love-making of Falstaff, although exquisitely comic, is 
 worthy of the verdict he himself pronounces upon it, — 
 "I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass." The one 
 genuine love scene is between two of the weakest and most 
 shadowy personages in the drama — Fenton and Ann Page ; 
 and this is evidently intended as a foil to the principal 
 action of the play, in which love is simply a matter of 
 mockery and intrigue. In this play love is a jest, — it is 
 knavery caught in its own snare. Under its influence, 
 Shakespeare's wittiest character becomes contemptible, 
 and "the argument of his own scorn." 
 
 Measure for Measure has no love scene, properly so-called. 
 The love element is essentially present, but it is also 
 entirely subordinate. For, mark its function, — to create 
 the situations out of which trouble, danger, cowardice, 
 humiliation or disgrace arise to its principal subjects, and 
 dishonour, crime and misgovernment to the ruler, Angelo. 
 Love is throughout a disturbing and enfeebling influence, 
 and the chief business of the play is to extricate its best 
 characters from the embarrassments into which love has 
 plunged them, Here, however, we find, very distinctly 
 expressed, the fact that " great spirits and great business 
 do keep out this weak passion." For the Duke is the most 
 
 L
 
 146 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 strong in judgment and sound in heart of any of the 
 characters ; he it is who may be taken as the earthly 
 Providence of the piece ; he, if anyone, is the mouth-piece 
 of the poet himself. The Duke retires from public life, 
 and in his seclusion Friar Thomas suspects that some love 
 sentiment may be the motive for his withdrawal, and for 
 the disguise which he assumes. This idea is very promptly, 
 and even peremptorily, repudiated, and in truly Baconian 
 terms : — 
 
 No, holy father, throw awa}^ that thought ; 
 Beheve not that the dribbling dart of love 
 Can pierce a complete bosom. 
 
 {Mens, for Meas. I. iii. i.) 
 
 The Duke is glancing at the law so clearly expounded by 
 Bacon: — ''It seems, though rarely, that love can find 
 entrance, not only in an open heart, but in a heart well 
 fortified, if watch be not well kept." 
 
 The Comedy of Errors is one of the plays from which 
 love is almost entirely excluded. There is a wooing scene, 
 but it is one of the " errors " of the comedy, and the issue 
 of it is wisely expressed by the rejected suitor. The 
 attractions of a fair face may make its victim untrue to his 
 own ends. The fair lady 
 
 Hath almost made me traitor to myself : 
 
 But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, 
 
 I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. 
 
 (Com. of Err. III. ii. 167). 
 
 In Much Ado love is present, supplying matter for 
 tragedy in Hero's case, and for comedy in Beatrice's. 
 Claudio's is a sentiment, which lightly comes and lightly 
 goes ; he only admits it when, on his return from military 
 service, "war thoughts have left their places vacant;" 
 and then he allows his wooing to be done by proxy. The 
 lovers, in all cases, are either the victims or the sport of 
 illusion. The love of Benedict and Beatrice is the out- 
 come of a practical joke, and the success is matter for
 
 LOVE IN THE COMEDIES. _ I47 
 
 mirth. With Hero and Claudio, their love is for a time 
 blasted by a trick, and their resulting misfortune gives 
 occasion for sympathy with that ; but their love is kept in 
 the background ; there are no love passages to show its 
 quality. Benedict expresses the Baconian view of love 
 with amusing frankness : — 
 
 I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man 
 is a fool when he dedicates his behaviour to love, will, after that he 
 hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument 
 of his own scorn, by falling in love : and such a man is Claudio. . . . 
 
 and then he describes the alteration which he sees in 
 Claudio in consequence. 
 
 May I be so converted, and see with these eyes ? I cannot tell : I 
 think not. I will not be sworn that love may transform me to an 
 oyster : but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of 
 me, he shall never make me such a fool. (7^). II. iii. 7)- 
 
 Love's Labour Lost gives a truly Baconian view of love, 
 as the disturbing element in public life, the foe at once to 
 study and to business. The King and his lords wish to 
 make their Court a little Academe, and devote themselves 
 to study ; they resolve to exclude from their Court all 
 women, so as to run no risk of being ensnared by passion 
 and sentiment. But in spite of their precautions, love 
 finds an entrance, and then of necessity folly comes ; they 
 all try to conceal their passion, and are much abashed 
 when discovered. One after another they are betrayed, 
 and then Biron, the most Baconian of all the speakers, 
 thus comments on the situation : — 
 
 O what a scene of foolery have I seen. 
 Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen ! 
 O me, with what strict patience have I sat, 
 To see a king transformed into a gnat ! 
 To see great Hercules whipping a gig, 
 And profound Solomon to tune a jig ; 
 And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, 
 And critic Timon laugh at idle to_vs. 
 
 (7^. IV. iii. 163).
 
 I4S SHAKESPEARE STUDIF.S IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 There is plenty more of this kind of pleasantry, and the 
 same note of folly and confusion is still found, even when 
 the news of the death of the King of France banishes all 
 idle mirth. Still Biron moralises in truly Baconian 
 language :— 
 
 For your fair sakes have we neglected lime, 
 Play'd foul play with our oaths. Your beauty, ladies. 
 Hath much deformed us ; fashioning our humours 
 Even to the opposed ends of our intents. 
 
 {lb. V. ii. 765.) 
 
 Of course, the poet who writes thus might have written — 
 " Love, if it check with business, troubleth men's fortunes, 
 and maketh men that they can no ways be true to their 
 own ends." 
 
 Therefore, ladies, 
 Our love being yours, the error that love makes 
 Is likewise yours ; we to ourselves prove false, 
 B}^ being once false, for ever to be true 
 To those that make us both, — fair ladies, you. 
 
 {lb. V. ii. 780.) 
 
 Here then is Bacon's most distressing presentation of 
 love, reproduced with cynical frankness in Shakespeare. 
 
 In Midsummer Nighfs Dream, again, love is a toy — the 
 sport of imps, summoned or dismissed by charms and 
 magic arts. All the lovers are more or less bewitched — 
 the stateliest of them bestows her blandishments on the 
 head of an ass, — they all surrender their individuality and 
 become puppets, whose strings are pulled by fairies. Here 
 also we see love and madness coupled together, because 
 the subjects of both have "seething brains," and "shaping 
 fantasies," that apprehend 
 
 More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
 
 The madman "sees more devils than vast hell can hold," 
 while the lovers' delusions, though less infernal are "all 
 as frantic," for he "sees Helen's beauty in a brow of 
 Egypt." The passion of Titania for the clown Bottom is.
 
 LOVE IN THE COMEDIES. 149 
 
 a parable, and carries its moral. Those who censure 
 Bacon should have something to say about the cynicism 
 of the poet who allows Titania to give her heart to Bottom. 
 The Midsummer Nighfs Dream is full of Baconian senti- 
 ments about love. Can anything be more typical than 
 the following. Bottom speaks to Titania : — 
 
 Reason and love keep little company now-a-days : the more the 
 pity that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. 
 
 (M. N. D. III. i. 146.) 
 
 On this play Professor Brandes makes the following 
 significant comment — "It is a lightly flowing, sportive, 
 lyrical fantasy, dealing with love as a dream, a fever, an 
 allusion, an infatuation, and making merry especially with 
 the irrational nature of the instinct. . . . Shakespeare 
 is far from regarding love as an expression of human 
 reason. Throughout his works, indeed, it is only by way 
 of exception that he makes reason the determining factor 
 in human conduct. The germs of a whole philosophy of 
 life are latent in the wayward love scenes of a Midsummer 
 Nighfs Dream." And it is not a little obvious to add that 
 this philosophy of life is the philosophy of Bacon's Essay. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice contains some of the most 
 exquisite love scenes ever invented. But even here, love 
 is not the main, nor the most attractive business of the 
 play, and the entrance into love is either blind or wilful, 
 and in all cases quite unheroic. Portia's choice in love is 
 determined by lottery. Nerissa's is a shadow of Portia's ; 
 Jessica's is a runaway match, in which there is a good 
 deal of calculated self-seeking ; her love makes her a 
 rebellious and undutiful child, an apostate to her faith, and 
 a pilferer. Here also 
 
 Love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
 
 The pretty follies that themselves commit. 
 
 {Mcr. of Veil. II. vi. 36.) 
 
 And the lady, Portia, whose love is the most pure and
 
 150 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 exalted, does not forget how nearly allied are love and 
 weakness, especially if love is ardent, and does not "keep 
 quarter : '" — 
 
 love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, 
 
 In measure rein th}- joy ; scant this excess ; 
 
 1 feel too much thy blessing ; make it less 
 
 For fear I surfeit. 
 
 {lb. III. ii. iii.j 
 
 The love scenes in As You Like It are exquisite pictures 
 of either rustic simplicity or Arcadian sport. The rustic 
 lovers, "natives of the place," do not show love in any 
 ennobling light. The maiden is cruel and scornful ; the 
 swain is abject and pitiful, — but the love is on the abject 
 and pitiful side. The courtly lovers, who woe in the 
 forest, present love as a comedy ; the lady masquerading 
 as a boy, and playing with the weakness of her lover, who 
 was quite willing to be manipulated as a marionette, if he 
 may thus indulge his fanc3\ Touchstone's love is abso- 
 lutely unreal and fantastic. All the love incidents illustrate 
 the sentiment which is the keynote of all this part of the 
 drama. 
 
 How many actions most ridiculous 
 
 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy : 
 
 which Touchstone repeats in other phrasing : — 
 
 We that are true lovers run into strange capers : but as all is 
 mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in foil}'. 
 
 And Rosalind, hearing such a slander on her own condi- 
 tion, is yet forced to admit that there is some truth in 
 the impeachment, — 
 
 Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. (See II. iv. 26 — 60.) 
 
 This play is exceptionally affluent in descriptions of the 
 manner, and behaviour, and appearance of lovers. The 
 characteristic signs are thus described : — 
 
 A lean check, a blue eye and sunken ; an unquestionable spirit
 
 LOVE IN THE COMEDIES. I5I 
 
 [i.e., unsociable, not inclined to talk], a beard neglected ; ungartered 
 hose ; the shoe untied ; and everything about you demonstrating a 
 careless desolation. (As You Like It, III. ii. 392) 
 
 "Love is merely a madness," and deserves its ordinary 
 treatment, viz., a dark house and a whip. Rosahnd 
 describes the sort of behaviour she put on when she 
 was acting the part of a lover : — 
 
 At which time would I, being a moonish youth, grieve, be effemi- 
 nate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, 
 shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every passion 
 something, and for no passion truly anything, . . . would now like 
 him, now loathe him, then entertain him, then forswear him, now 
 weep for liim, then spit at him, that I drave my suitor from his mad 
 humour of love to a living humour of madness. (lb. III. ii. 420). 
 
 Nothing can be more exquisitely pictured ; every scene 
 is enchanting, but it is folly, weakness, self-immolation 
 that is depicted in the love passages of this delicious frame- 
 work of Arcadian romance and simplicity. As in the 
 "Dream," the natural comment of the sportive outsider is, 
 " Lord, what fools these mortals be." 
 
 In the Taming of the Shrew there is no real love making. 
 All the wooing is based on self-interest, none on genuine 
 attraction. There is much wooing and some marrying, 
 but no love. The only serious moral is that spoken by 
 Katherine, after she is tamed : — 
 
 Now I see our lances are but straws. 
 
 Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare. 
 
 (Tain, of Shreii: V. ii. 173). 
 
 In AlVs Well, no male character submits to the assault 
 of the tender passion, except in gross forms. Bertram 
 resists its approach, and treats it with scorn. Helena's 
 love is strong and faithful, but folly and weakness attend 
 it. Her love is given to an inaccessible and unresponsive 
 idol, 
 
 I know I love in vain, strive against hope : 
 Yet in this captious and intenible sieve
 
 152 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 I still pour in the waters of my love. 
 
 {All's Weill, iii. 207). 
 
 She is content to bring her husband to her arms by a 
 loathsome trick, pandering to his vices, and winning him 
 in spite of liimself. The play is full of love ; but, with the 
 doubtful exception of Helena, the ennobling, invigorating 
 side of love is entirely absent. 
 
 Twelfth Night shows us a royal suitor making futile love 
 by proxy, and at last content to wed, not the lady of his 
 choice, but the maiden who had fallen into presumably 
 hopeless love with him, whom he had employed as a page, 
 and known only in this disguise. A similar game of cross- 
 purposes unites Olivia and Sebastian, neither of whom 
 loved the other, but made their love contract under an 
 illusion of mistaken identity. Love in Viola is most 
 attractive, full of poetry and charm, and she is the only 
 one whose passion is naturally requited. In all the other 
 cases the love passages are fantastic and irrational, and are 
 patched and mended by the evolution of fortunate blunders. 
 Even here the Baconian estimate of love is not omitted. 
 The Duke says to Viola, his supposed page-boy : — 
 
 Come hither, boy : if ever thou shalt love, 
 In the sweet pangs of it, remember me. 
 For such as I am, all true lovers are, — 
 Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, 
 Save in the constant image of the creature 
 That is belov'd. 
 
 {Twelfih Night II. iv. 14). 
 
 But of all the plays (except Othello and Antony and 
 Cleopatra), it is in the Winter's Tale that we find Bacon's 
 philosophy of love and business embodied in the most 
 striking dramatic effects. Prince Florizel is a typical 
 instance of the " mad degree of love": his passion "checks 
 with business," and makes him " untrue to his own ends." 
 That he may possess Perdita, whom he only knows as a 
 low-born peasant girl, he is ready to give up his princely 
 birthright, surrender his succession to the crown, brave
 
 LOVE IN THE COMEDIES. I53 
 
 the anger of his father, and bring danger not only on 
 himself, but on the maiden of his choice and all her sup- 
 posed relations. Nothing can be more reckless and 
 irrational than his love vows :— 
 
 Or I'll be thine, my fair, 
 
 Or not my father's. For I cannot be 
 
 Mine own, nor anything to any, if 
 
 I be not thine. To this I am most constant, 
 
 Though destiny say. No ! 
 
 {lb. IV.iv. 42). 
 
 In repl}^ to his father's threats he exclaims:^ 
 
 From my succession wipe me, father, I 
 Am heir to my affection. 
 Camillo. — Be advised ! 
 
 Flor. — I am, and by my fancy : if my reason 
 
 Will thereto be obedient, I have reason ; 
 
 If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, 
 
 Do bid it welcome 
 
 (76. 491). 
 
 Here is clearly an example illustrating Bacon's keen remark : 
 '' He that preferred Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and 
 Pallas : for whoever esteemeth too much of amorous 
 affection, quitteth both riches and honour." The fantastic 
 apology for the wooing of a peasant by a prince, presents 
 us with a very Baconian picture of love and its precedents 
 of folly :— 
 
 Apprehend 
 Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves. 
 Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
 The shapes of beasts upon them. Jupiter 
 Became a bull, and bellow'd ; the green Neptune 
 A ram, and bleated : and the fire-robed god, 
 Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, 
 As I seem now. 
 
 {Ih. IV. iv. 24). 
 
 So then we find Shakespeare comparing his lovers to such 
 curious cattle as divinities transformed to bellowing bulls,
 
 154 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 or bleating rams, or humble swains. Bacon could not 
 belittle them more effectually. 
 
 Love Always Subordinate in Shakespeare. 
 
 g. This hasty glance over the entire Shakespearean drama 
 fully confirms the opinion of many critics, that in Shake- 
 speare, more than in any other dramatist, love and passion 
 are subordinate ; they are rarely, if ever, the leading motive 
 of the play. And they bring before us the unexpected 
 conclusion that what is condemned as cynical or hard in 
 Bacon is reflected with singular exactness in nearly all the 
 Shakespearean plays, — in many cases with almost verbal 
 accuracy. Evidently the poet was not primarily occupied 
 with rhapsodies of sentiment or passion : his chief aim is 
 to embody in life-like forms the deepest results of his 
 moral, social and political studies. In this respect the 
 Poet and the Essayist are absolutely alike. Shakespeare, 
 like Bacon, is an ethical teacher, a moralist, a philosopher, 
 a statesman, devoted to the largest issues of public life, — 
 full of world-embracing, statesmanlike wisdom, familiar 
 with all sides of Court hfe and politics, — and to these aims 
 all his music, his rhetoric, his fancy are subordinated. So 
 much is this the case, that about half of his plays are never 
 put on the boards, and probably were never intended for 
 the theatre, being quite unsuitable for scenic effect. It is 
 surely a most significant fact, that the greatest of all 
 dramatists has written so large a proportion of plays which 
 must be valued, not for their scenic merits, but for quite 
 other reasons. Troilus mid Crcssida, and Timon, for 
 instance, could not have been written by a stage manager, 
 making copy for his boards, looking chiefly, or in any way, 
 at the market value of his poetical inventions. Even 
 Hamlet, attractive as it is, if it were produced without 
 abridgment, would be intolerable. Shakespeare was 
 evidently more a philosophical teacher than a caterer for 
 popular amusement. If he had been, he would have used 
 love and passion, with its romance, much more freely, and
 
 VARIOUS ATTRACTIONS IN SHAKESPEARE. 155 
 
 made them much more prominent. We should not find 
 that in about thirteen of the thirty-seven plays love is 
 almost or entirely absent, and that in all the rest Bacon's 
 view of love is clearly reflected. If we run over the list, 
 and pick out those plays which are more or less suitable 
 for the stage, and are actually produced, we shall find that 
 only about twenty out of the thirty-seven still hold the 
 boards, and of these, seven or eight are rarely given, even 
 by Shakespeare societies, which often select for representa- 
 tion those plays which are never produced under pro- 
 fessional auspices. The pla3^s which one has a chance of 
 seeing on the boards are Henry IV. (rarely), Henry V., 
 Richard HI., Henry VHI., Coriolanus, Julius Ccesar, 
 Macbeth, Tempest, Hamlet, Lear, Othello. Merry Wives, 
 Much Ado, Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Midsummer 
 Nighfs Dream, Twelfth Night, Winter's Tale, and Romeo 
 and Juliet. Of these, only in the last five is love very 
 prominent. In the rest we go to the theatre to laugh at 
 or with Falstaff, to see Hotspur's high-bred impetuosity, 
 the moral contrasts of Prince Hal, the audacity of Richard's 
 villany, the sorrows and visions of Queen Catherine, the 
 grandeur and abasement of Wolsey, the patrician pride 
 and insolence of Coriolanus, the eloquence of Mark Antony, 
 the headlong career of Macbeth, the enchantments of 
 Prospero, the musings of Hamlet, the agony of Lear, the 
 devilry of lago, the torture of Othello and Desdemona, 
 the merry raillery of Benedict and Beatrice, the bucolic 
 dignity of Dogberry, the ferocity of Shylock, the fascina- 
 tion of Portia and her pretty impersonation of bad law and 
 poetic justice, the cynical moralizing of Jacques, the jests 
 of Touchstone, the wit and tenderness of Rosalind, and so 
 forth. Almost invariably love keeps quarter, it retires 
 into the background, and the main business of the play is 
 independent of it. This is exactly what might be expected 
 from the poet-philosopher, who declares that love limits 
 the range of mortal vision, and is " a very narrow contem- 
 plation " {Antitheta 36), and yet can, per contra, say
 
 15b SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 also, "There is nothing that better regulates the mind 
 than the authority of some powerful passion." 
 
 Love in the Minor Poems. 
 
 10. The Minor Poems tell the same story. Lucrece is a 
 commentary on Bacon's aphorism, "Martial men are given 
 to love," taking its pleasures as payment for perils ; for 
 Lucrece, in her eloquent pleadings with Tarquin, flings at 
 him the reproach, — 
 
 A martial man to be soft fancy's slave ! 
 
 (Lucrece I. 200). 
 
 and the whole poem, in its various phases and sections, 
 illustrates Bacon's wise suminary of the whole of his 
 essay : — " Nuptial love maketh mankind ; friendly love 
 perfecteth it ; but wanton love corrupteth and embaseth it." 
 Collatine, Brutus, and Tarquin represent these three types, 
 and Lucrece herself touches all these aspects of love. 
 
 Venus and Adonis is full of exquisite pictures of passion 
 and love conflict ; but they are assuredly not charged with 
 any lofty ideal or exalted morality, — the sentiment of love 
 is presented romantically, but not with any high and 
 ennobling features. The real moral of the poem is to be 
 found in the closing stanzas, in which the Baconian view 
 of love is again reproduced with almost audacious frank- 
 ness. The goddess, in her grief at the death of Adonis, 
 breaks out into melancholy moralizing and poetic 
 prophecy : it is worth while quoting the lines as a speci- 
 men of what Vernon Lee calls "Baconian thoughts in 
 Baconian language : — 
 
 Since thou art dead, lo ! here I proplies}' ; 
 
 Sorrow on love hereafter sliall attend ; 
 It shall be waited on with jealousy ; 
 
 Find sweet beginning but unsavoury end ; 
 Ne'er settled equally, but high or low, 
 That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.
 
 VENUS S INVECTIVE AGAINST LOVE. 157 
 
 It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud ; 
 
 Bud and be blasted in a breathing-while ; 
 The bottom poison, and the top o'erstrawed 
 With sweet, that shall the truest sight beguile. 
 The strongest body shall it make most weak, 
 Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak. 
 
 It shall be sparing, — and too full of riot ; 
 
 Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures ; 
 The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet, 
 
 Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures. 
 It shall be raging-mad, and silly-mild. 
 Make the young old, the old become a child. 
 
 It shall suspect, where is no cause of fear ; 
 
 It shall not fear, where it should most mistrust ; 
 It shall be merciful, and too severe. 
 And most deceiving where it seems most just. 
 
 Perverse it shall be where it shows most toward, 
 Put fear to valour, courage to the coward. 
 
 It shall be cause of war and dire events ; 
 
 And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire ; 
 Subject and servile to all discontents, 
 As dry combustious matter is to fire ; 
 
 Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy, 
 They that love best their loves shall not enjoy. 
 
 Love Lyrics. 
 
 If we turn to the remaining poems, we find the same 
 pictures of love blended with folly or disaster. This is 
 the theme of the Lover's Complaint and of the little 
 poem, "Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good." But to 
 find out all the lyrical utterances of the Shakespearean 
 poet we must search the Elizabethan Song Books. There 
 is a large collection of these in " England's Helicon," I 
 have not the least doubt that this collection was made by 
 Bacon ; his royal and antithetic style is unmistakable in 
 the prose dedications and prefaces ; and his Shakespeare 
 mantle is spread over quite a large number of the poems. 
 All the twenty-five lyrics signed " Ignoto ; " the seven
 
 158 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 signed "Shepherd Tony ; " probably those signed S.E.D., 
 A.W., and H.S. are Shakespearean. It would be foreign 
 to my present topic to pursue this subject further ; I ven- 
 ture, however, to commend them to all who delight in the 
 lyric music and matchless English of Shakespeare. The 
 collection is indeed priceless. I will quote one to shew 
 how Bacon's and Shakespeare's picture of love — its asso- 
 ciation with folly and disaster — is reproduced in these 
 poems. It is called An Invective against Love. The 
 exquisitely articulated structure of the poem, the perpetual 
 antithesis, the metaphors and sentiments most character- 
 istic of Shakespeare, the rich and abundant thought, the 
 crystaline clearness and felicity of every phrase, point 
 unmistakably to the true author : as Mr. Gerald Massey 
 found in another typical instance (See 2nd Edition of his 
 book on the Sonnets, p. 459 ; but see fuller comments in 
 the ist Edition, p. 465), The poem now to be quoted is 
 attributed to " Ignoto " in the Prefatory Table: but in 
 Davidson's " Rhapsody" it is attributed to A.W. (Bullen). 
 Evidently the authorship is a very open question. The 
 metre is the same as that of Venus and Adonis, and the 
 versification resembles that poem in quite a remarkable 
 way. 
 
 All is not gold that sliineth bright in show ; 
 Nor every flower so good as fair to sight : 
 The deepest streams above do calmest flow, 
 And strongest poisons oft the taste delight : 
 The pleasant bait doth hide the harmful hook, 
 And false deceit can lend a friendly look. 
 
 Love is the gold whose outward hue doth pass, 
 Whose first beginnings goodly promise make 
 Of pleasures fair and fresh as summer grass, 
 Which neither sun can parch nor wind can shake ; 
 But when the mould should in the fire be tried, 
 The gold is gone, the dross doth still abide. 
 
 Beauty the flower so fresh, so fair, so gay. 
 So sweet to smell, so soft to touch and taste,
 
 A POEM BY IGNOTO. 159 
 
 As seems it should endure, by right, for aye, 
 
 And never be with any storm defaced : 
 
 But when the baleful southern wind doth blow. 
 Gone is the glory which it erst did show. 
 
 Love is the stream whose waves so calmly flow, 
 As might entice men's minds to wade therein ; 
 Love is the poison mix'd with sugar so, 
 As might by outward sweetness liking win ; 
 But as the deep o'erflowing stops thy breath. 
 So poison once received brings certain death. 
 
 Love is the bait whose taste the fish deceives, 
 And makes them swallow down the choking hook, 
 Love is the face whose fairness judgment reaves. 
 And makes thee trust a false and feigned look : 
 But as the hook the foolish fish doth kill, 
 So flattering looks the lover's life doth spill. 
 
 Conclusions. 
 
 12. To sum up : after producing the evidence, I con- 
 clude that the objection to the Baconian theory derived 
 from Bacon's treatment of love, is not only not sustained 
 by detailed examination, but the logical bearing of the 
 comparison is exactly the reverse of that which is claimed 
 for it. The Shakespearean view of love, so far from con- 
 flicting with the Baconian, is curiously, and most 
 significantly identical with it. So remarkably is this the 
 case, that the parallel between them adds new force to 
 our contention that Bacon was the real author of 
 Shakespeare. It is admitted that Bacon's treatment of 
 love is something startling and unexpected, something 
 which, in some respects, even his admirers would wish a 
 little softened or modified, or at least qualified by con- 
 trasting lights or supplementary considerations. Perhaps 
 no one can accept it without some distaste and resistance. 
 Love is so enthroned in our hearts' belief — and is, in fact, 
 so essentially Divine in its nature and origin — that we are 
 unprepared for the relentless judgment which forbids its
 
 l6o SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 intrusion into public life, and requires of it to keep 
 rigorous quarter in the seclusion of privacy. Yet this view 
 is textually reproduced in Shakespeare. The poetry, v^hen 
 it is translated into didactic forms, teaches precisely the 
 same lessons as the prose. 
 
 The ^thiope. 
 
 13. As an additional confirmation of the identity of the 
 two we may point to a passage in the "New Atlantis," 
 where the Spirit of Fornication "appeared as a little foul 
 ugly i55^thiope." In no other sense is this word ever used 
 in Shakespeare. Proteus, when he is tired of Julia, and 
 has transferred his passion to Sylvia, says, 
 
 And Sylvia, witness heaven that made her fair, 
 Shows JuHa but a swarthy Etliiopc. 
 
 (Tivo Gent. II. vi. 25.) 
 
 Rosalind in her gay mockery of a rustic love letter 
 speaks of — 
 
 yEthiope words, blacker in their effect 
 Than in their countenance. 
 
 {As You Like II IV. iii. 35). 
 
 In " Much Ado," Claudio expresses his willingness to 
 marry Antonio's daughter, to replace Hero, supposed to be 
 dead : and he thus expresses his resolve — 
 
 I'll hold my mind were she an ^^thiope. 
 
 {lb. V. iv. 38.) 
 
 and Lysander spurns Hermia with the words, 
 
 Away ! you JFAhio'pc. 
 
 Midsiunmcr Night's Dream III. ii. 257. 
 
 Scorn and disgust for some hated woman is the invariable 
 application of this word in Shakespeare — as in the "New 
 Atlantis."
 
 ASPECTS THAT PROCURE LOVE. l6l 
 
 Love Engendered in the Eye. 
 
 14, It is not a little curious that Shakespeare very often 
 speaks of fancy, or love, as " engendered in the eyes, with 
 gazing fed." {Mer. Ven. III. ii. 67). This is not a mere 
 poetic fancy, it is stated by Bacon as a scientific fact. 
 " The affections no doubt do make the spirits more power- 
 ful and active ; and especially those affections which draw 
 the spirits into the eyes; which are two, love and envy, 
 which is called oculus mains . , . and this is observed like- 
 wise, that the aspects that procure love, are not gazings, 
 but sudden glances and dartings of the eye." {Syl. Syl., 
 944). This shcf\vs us that the phrase quoted from the 
 Merchant of Venice means that love is not only engendered 
 by gazing, but fed by it after it has been engendered by a 
 flash from the eye. This theory is expounded, with much 
 amplification and abundant citation of classic authorities, 
 in Burton's "Anatomy " (III. ii. 2, 2). The same psycho- 
 logic theory is implied in Olivia's self-analysis of the 
 sudden impulse by which her love to Viola has arisen :— 
 
 Even so quickly may we catch the plague ! 
 Methinks I feel this youth's perfections 
 With an invisible and subtle stealth 
 To creep in at mine eyes. 
 
 (Twelfth Niglit I. v, 314.) 
 
 So Cymbeline, conceiving a sudden attachment to the 
 disguised Imogen, says, — 
 
 Boy, 
 
 Thou hast looked thyself into my grace, 
 
 And art mine own. 
 
 (Cymb. V. v. 93). 
 
 The two notes of sudden creation, and the origin in the 
 
 eye are to be observed in all these passages, as in the Syl. 
 
 Syl. The same idea is implied when Antipholus of 
 
 Syracuse, professing himself in love, " not made, but 
 
 mated," is told by Luciana, 
 
 :si
 
 l62 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN I.I(;HT. 
 
 It is a fault that springcth from your eye. 
 
 (Com. El. III. ii. 55). 
 
 The ''affections which draw the spirits into the eyes " 
 are described in detail, in Love's L. Lost II. i. 234 — 247 : — 
 
 All his behaviours did make their retire 
 To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire : 
 His heart, like an agate,with your print impress'd. 
 Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd ; 
 His tongue, all impatient to speak, and not see, 
 Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be : 
 All senses to that sense did make their repair 
 To feel only looking on fairest of fair. 
 Methinks all his senses were lock'd in his eye, 
 As jewels in crystal, for some prince to buy. 
 
 The same idea is expressed by JuHet : — 
 
 I'll look to love, if looking liking move ; 
 But no more deep will I endart mine eye 
 Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. 
 
 (Koiii. 'Jul. I. iii. 97). 
 
 Mr. Neil's note on this passage is as follows : " In the 
 Nichomachean Ethics, Book IX., chapter x,, Aristotle 
 says that, 'Good will is conceived instantaneously,' that 
 ' Good will is the prelude to friendship exactly as the 
 pleasure of the eye is the prelude to love,' and Shakespeare 
 has put this opinion into verse when he says of Fancy, as 
 
 love. 
 
 It is engendered in the e3^es, 
 
 With gazing fed. {Mcr. Vcii.lU.u. 67). 
 
 This agrees with Plato's suggestion in the Cratylus, 
 that "epws love, is derived from da-pdi', streaming into, or 
 influx." Here is another instance in which the poet, with 
 his "small Latin and less Greek," shews intimate 
 acquaintance with some of the most subtle and recondite 
 teachings of Plato and Aristotle. 
 
 All these passages, with many others, clearly echo 
 Bacon's Promus Note (1137), equally applicable to poetry 
 and philosophy. "The eye is the gate of the affection,
 
 LOVE AND REASON SEPARATE. 163 
 
 but the ear of the understanding," i.e., when any affection 
 takes possession of the spirit, it enters into possession by 
 the avenue of the eye. It is a very subtle notion. Both 
 in the scientific statement and in the poetry love is said 
 to spring from the eye, not merely of the object, but of 
 the subject. Burton says that " Balthazar Castiho calls 
 the eyes . . . the lamps of love," so that in the words 
 of Troilus we may detect the Baconian theory of love, and 
 put a more definite interpretation upon them : — 
 
 To feed for aye her lamps and flames of love. 
 
 {Tro. Crcs. III. ii. 167). 
 
 These lamps and flames are the eyes, which are to be fed 
 by gazing on the appropriate object. 
 
 Marlowe's Hero and Leander gives expression to the 
 same philosophy. Hero is at the altar of Venus : — 
 
 There Hero, sacrificing turtles' blood, 
 Vailed to the ground, veiling her eyelids close ; 
 And modestly they opened as she rose : 
 Thence flew love's arrow, with the golden head, 
 And thus Leander was enamoured. 
 
 {Hero and Leander I. 158). 
 
 The eye thus both gives and receives the dart. 
 
 Folly and Love Connected Generally. 
 
 15. As a corollary to this discussion of Bacon's Essay of 
 ^' Love " it is important to observe that his view of love as 
 e.ssentially blended with folly is but part of a larger philo- 
 sophy, in which the same conjunction of folly with all 
 strong emotion or enthusiasm is assumed as a metaphysical 
 axiom, a law of psychology. That love in all its depart- 
 ments is blind is a maxim constantly applied, both in the 
 poetry and the prose. The detailed interpretation of the 
 classical attributes of Cupid in the Midsummer Nighfs 
 Dream, and elsewhere, might add another chapter to 
 Bacon's "Wisdom of the Ancients." And it is evident.
 
 164 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 that what is said of love, may be said of rapture generally. 
 Helena speaks : — 
 
 He will not know what all but he do know : 
 
 And as he ens, doting on Hermia's eyes. 
 
 So I, admiring of his qualities. 
 
 Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
 
 Love can transpose to form and dignity. 
 
 Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, 
 
 And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. 
 
 Nor hath Love's mind of au}^ judgment taste, 
 
 Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste. 
 
 And therefore is Love said to be a child. 
 
 Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. 
 
 As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, 
 
 So the boy love is perjured everywhere. 
 
 {Midsii miner Night's Dream L i. 229). 
 
 Now Bacon links love and folly in a very extensive way,, 
 and very curiously. In the Proinus we find this singu- 
 lar bit of antique French, " Un amoreux fait totijours. 
 qiielqtie folagne" (1532) — meaning, I presume, one who is 
 in love is always doing something ridiculous. And Bacon,, 
 with his wonted habit of giving a large amplification and 
 application to particulars, symbolic or didactic, applies 
 this principle to the love which is expressed by any kind 
 of enthusiasm. Thus he finds in this maxim a fantastic 
 apology for his eagerness in giving advice when it was not 
 asked: He sends his counsels and suggestions, he hopes^ 
 "without committing any absurdity : " — " But if it seem 
 any error for me thus to intromit myself, I pray your 
 Lordship believe that I ever loved her Majesty and State,, 
 and now love yourself: and there is never any vehement love 
 without some absurdity ; as the Spaniard well saitlv 
 Desnario con la calentura" ("Life," HI. 46). 
 
 Later in life he makes the same apology to the Prince 
 when he sent to him his "Considerations touching a War 
 with Spain " : — " Hoping that at least you will discern the 
 strength of my affection through the weakness of my 
 abilities. For the Spaniard hath a good proverb, Desuaria
 
 SANCTITY : LOVE : STRANGENESS. 165 
 
 siempre con la calentura : there is no heat of affection but 
 is joined with some idleness of brain " {lb. VII. 470). 
 
 And in his discourse, addressed to the King, on planta- 
 tion in Ireland (January ist, i6o8-g), he hopes that his 
 Majesty " will through the weakness of my ability discern 
 the strength of my affection " {lb. IV. 117). 
 
 The same sentiment is connected with the proverb Amarc 
 et sapere vix deo conccditur. Bacon in his prose nowhere 
 quotes this proverb completely, only partially. But when 
 it is translated into Shakespearean verse, it is given 
 entire : — 
 
 But 3-ou are wise ; 
 Or else you love not ; for to be wise and love 
 Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above. 
 
 {Tro. Crcs. III. ii. 162). 
 
 In the Essay of "Love," it is thus quoted: "And 
 therefore it was well said that it is impossible to love and be 
 loise.''' In "Burton's Anatomy" it is quoted in full, 
 ^'Amare et sapere ipsi Jovi non concediticr, as Seneca holds " 
 (Part III. ii. 3). In the last sentence of the Statesman's 
 speech in Bacon's "Device" it is thus imperfectly pro- 
 duced : — " So that I conclude I have traced him the way 
 to that which hath been granted to some few, amare et 
 sapere, to love and be wise" ("Life," I. 383). 
 
 Thus not only love but all high emotion is more or 
 less detached from wisdom. Rapture and reason belong 
 to different types of nature and different departments of 
 conduct or action. 
 
 From all these passages we may infer that what, in 
 Bacon's view, is foolish in some respects, may yet be very 
 interesting, and associated even with wisdom in counsel 
 and action; and that however much he may dwell upon 
 the folly and unwisdom of lovers, he can at the same 
 time admire the beauty, sincerity, depth, and fervour of 
 the passion, and even find in the expression of it some- 
 thing both "comely" and useful. 
 
 It is true that the follv of lovers has been a shaft for the
 
 l66 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 wits of all ages ; but there is this difference between 
 Bacon's wit and that which is current in the jests of 
 other men. Other jesters note the folly, and only laugh 
 at it, they do not reason upon it. With Bacon it is 
 generalized, and finds its proper place in the philosophy 
 of human nature : he takes its measure, and traces its 
 ramifications in other departments of action, besides 
 wooing. So also in Shakespeare, the folly of lovers is not 
 merely an occasion for fun and quizzing; it is an ascer- 
 tained settled fact, to be reckoned with in any large 
 portraiture of human nature and its activities. Under 
 all the toying and laughter, it is easy to see that the 
 poet had a grounded and reasoned opinion that love is 
 always associated with some sort of weakness and folly, 
 and yet that with all this it is excellently fair and attrac- 
 tive. Thus the folly and the beauty are blended; he does 
 not jest in one mood and admire in another ; one occasion 
 evokes both sentiments, and in his laughter there is no scorn. 
 As he finds wisdom and folly united in actual life, he 
 has no hesitation in presenting the same blend in his art, 
 which he has found in his philosophy.
 
 167 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL MAXIMS. 
 
 I. — Mines and Forges. 
 
 The business of the philosopher, according to Bacon's 
 view, may be divided into two departments — the one 
 devoted to research, the other to refining, or working up 
 material into fabric — in his picturesque language, digging 
 in the mine, or working at the forge. The digger in the 
 mine is called the Pioner, or, as we write it, pioneer. In 
 the military language of his time, the soldier who digs 
 under ground, the sapper or miner, is the pioner. This 
 pioner stands in his mind as the symbol of the enquirer 
 into truth. Early in life he was impressed with a saying 
 of Democritus, that Truth did lie in deep pits; and in his 
 failure to obtain occupation in the service of the State, he 
 told his uncle, Lord Burghley, that he had almost resolved 
 to " give over all care of service, and become some sorry 
 book-maker, or a true pioner in that mine of truth which 
 Democritus said lay so deep" ("Life," 1. log). The pioner 
 is therefore, in Bacon's eyes, one who is working under- 
 ground, digging for treasure, or — extending the signifi- 
 cance of the word by analogy — it may be digging for 
 treason or warfare; for the process of mining may be 
 applied to undermining. To these several uses the word 
 is applied by Bacon at different periods of his life. Thus 
 in the year 1592, in his " Observations on a Libel," he 
 writes : — " Nay, even at this instant, in the kingdom of 
 Spain, notwithstanding the pioners do still work in the 
 Spanish mines, the Jesuits must play the pioner and mine
 
 l68 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 into the Spaniards' purses, and, under colour of a ghostly 
 exhortation, contrive the greatest exaction that ever was 
 in any realm." In his speech, or charge, agai st Owen, 
 he speaks of "Priests here, . . . which be so many pioners 
 to undermine the State." In March, 1622, after his fall, 
 he offers service to the King, saying, "I shall be glad to 
 be a labourer, a pioner in your service." 
 
 In the " History of Henry VII.," Bacon, speaking of the 
 imperfect information available in reference to the Simnell 
 plot, adds : — " We shall make our judgment upon the 
 things themselves, as they give light to one another, and, 
 as we can, dig truth out of the mine." And, describing 
 the King's treatment of Perkin Warbeck's conspiracy, and 
 the spies and enquirers he employed, he tells us : — 
 " Others he employed in a more special nature and trust, 
 to be his pioners in the main countermine." And, in a 
 passage which we shall immediately shew to have a curious 
 affinity with Shakespearean usage, he says that Henry em- 
 ployed secret spials, because " he had such moles perpetually 
 working and casting to undermine him." Also, Bacon says 
 of Richard III. : — " Even in the time of King Edward, his 
 brother, he was not without secret trains and mines to 
 turn envy and hatred upon his brother's government." 
 And, after describing some of the precautions taken by 
 Henry against Perkin Warbeck's conspiracy, he adds : 
 " But for the rest, he chose to work by countermine." 
 We find that Bacon made an entry in his Proinus (1395), 
 " Pioner in the mine of truth," as a hint worth remem- 
 bering and storing as a help for invention; and we shall 
 find that in this case, as in so many others, the purpose 
 of the entry is partly explained by its reflection in Shake- 
 speare. 
 
 The word pioner, in its original, military use, is found in 
 Henry V. The scene is at Harfleur and the siege is being 
 prosecuted by help of mining operations. Gower asks, 
 " How now. Captain Alacmorris, have you quit the mines ? 
 have the pioners given o'er ? " (III. ii. gi). And the same
 
 DIGGING IN THE MINES. l6g 
 
 sense is found in Othello III. iii. 345. " The general camp 
 pioners and all " the miners and pioners being the soldiers 
 of least estimation, to whom the hardest manual toil was 
 assigned. 
 
 The saying of Democritus must have been in the poet's 
 mind, when he makes Polonius, eagerly volunteering 
 service to the King, say, " I will find where truth is hid, 
 though it were hid indeed within the centre." {Ham. II. 
 ii. 157). And as Bacon calls these pioners and spies, moles, 
 so the same figure is used by Shakespeare. The ghost has 
 been seconding Hamlet's wish that the events of that night 
 should be kept secret. " Swear ! " he says from below the 
 ground : and again " Swear ! " after they had shifted their 
 places ; on which Hamlet, his excitement making him 
 almost hysterical, half laughing, half weeping, exclaims, 
 
 Well said old Mole, can'st work i' the earth so fast ? 
 
 A woiihy pioucr ! 
 
 (Ham. I. V. 162). 
 
 These words occur in the early Quarto of 1604. 
 
 Bacon's division of philosophers into those who dig and 
 those who refine, is very clearly reflected in one remark- 
 able instance. First, let us see how Bacon himself ex- 
 presses this distinction. In the 2nd Book of the "Advance- 
 ment," we find the following : — 
 
 " If then it be true that Democritus said. That the truth of 
 nature lieth hid in certain deep mines and caves ; and if it be 
 true likewise that the Alchemists do so much inculcate, that 
 Vulcan IS a second nature, and imitateth that dexterously 
 and compendiously which nature worketh by ambages and 
 length of time ; it were good to divide natural philosophy 
 into the mine and the furnace, and to m.ake two pro- 
 fessions of natural philosophers, some to be pioners, and 
 some smiths ; some to dig, and some to refine and 
 hammer." (Works III. 351). 
 
 Now when Dramatic art, ignoring the unities, brings on 
 the stage a kingdom, a battle between countless combatants,
 
 I/O SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 or events that take years for their accompHshment — "Jump- 
 ing o'er times, turning the accomplishment of many years 
 into and hour-glass" {Hen. V. I. Prol.)— the poet does that 
 which Vulcan is represented as doing, — he " imitates 
 dexterously and compendiously that which nature worketh 
 by ambages and length of time," his mind is the forge in 
 which this fabric is wrought. And this conception of 
 dramatic art is clearly expressed in the Prologue to the 5th 
 Act of Henry V. 
 
 Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, 
 That I may prompt them : and, of such as have, 
 I humbly pray them to admit the excuse 
 Of time, of numbers and due course of things, 
 Which cannot in their huge and proper Hfe 
 Be here presented. 
 
 These lines express clearly the idea of Dramatic Art as 
 overcoming the ambages of time and experience. And 
 that this was actually in the poet's mind becomes perfectly 
 clear in the subsequent repetition of the same sentiment: — 
 
 But now behold 
 In the quick forge and working house of thought. 
 How London doth pour out her citizens, &c. 
 
 This exactly corresponds to another statement of the same 
 philosophical axiom : — " It is the duty and virtue of all 
 knowledge to abridge the circuits and long ways of experi- 
 ence (as much as truth will permit) and to remedy the 
 ancient complaint that life is short and art is lo7ig." {Dc 
 Aug. III. iv). 
 
 Here then, we find Bacon's forge in Shakespeare long 
 before it was published in the "Advancement." The 
 forge re-appears frequently in both groups of writings. 
 Bacon speaks of the "Wits of men, which are the shops 
 wherein all actions are forged," and of the sanctuaries, 
 where criminals found shelter as "the forges of all his 
 troubles." In the poems we find "Come! to the forge 
 with it then ; shape it ; I would not have things cool."
 
 NATURE CONTROLLED BY MIRx\CLE. 171 
 
 {Mer. W. IV. ii.) (last speech). " I should forge quarrels 
 unjust against the good and loyal ; destroying them for 
 wealth." {Much. IV. iii. 8i): and in other places. 
 
 2, — Miracles and Misery. 
 
 Bacon's Essay of " Adversity " was not published till the 
 last complete edition of the Essays appeared in 1625. It is 
 one most often quoted as a specimen of his richest and 
 most poetic style. Macaulay uses it to justify his 
 criticism that Bacon's poetic fancies became more ample 
 and exuberant as he grew older. The following passage 
 occurs in it: — "Certainly, if miracles be the command 
 over nature, they appear most in adversity : " — a short 
 sentence, but one full of condensed wisdom. Notice in it 
 two things : — 
 
 1. Bacon's definition of a miracle : the command over 
 nature. 
 
 2. Bacon's philosophy of adversity: — it gives oppor- 
 tunity for such self-denial and self-control as are equivalent 
 to miracle, by the command over nature thus displayed. 
 
 Here we find the philosophical or abstract sentiment. 
 For a concrete illustration of the same we may turn to 
 King Lear. In the second scene of the second act, Kent 
 appears before Gloster's Castle. It is night. He has 
 beaten the steward who had been insolent to the King. 
 Regan and Cornwall appear. They overpower him, and 
 put him in the stocks, and leave him there for the night. 
 He is, now, in the deepest pit of adversity ; far from his 
 friends ; in the power of his enemies, who are likely to 
 torture or kill him as soon as morning comes, and he is 
 taken out of the stocks. The situation would seem to 
 justify the most utter despondency. But Kent rises above 
 the situation. He had before said to the steward : 
 "Though it be night, yet the moon shines; " and now by 
 its light, which he calmly salutes as " comfortable beams,'" 
 he reads a letter. He is astonished at his own almost
 
 172 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 miraculous composure, aud soon after falls asleep. It is a 
 miracle of command over nature. And so he regards it, 
 for he meditatively exclaims, — 
 
 " Nothing almost sees miracles 
 But misery." {LcarU. ii. 172). 
 
 Showing that (i) Bacon's definition of a miracle and (2) 
 Bacon's philosophy of adversity, were both in his mind, 
 although he does not expressly formulate them. The 
 sentence as it stands is sybilline, and somewhat obscure. 
 We cannot find a complete clue to Kent's meaning till we 
 bring Bacon's Essay to help out the significance of it. 
 And the reflection is so subtle and original that it must 
 have come from the same mind that wrote the Essay ; 
 which, observe, was published 17 years after the Quarto 
 edition of the play, and nine years after Shakspere's death. 
 But this does not complete the curious significance of 
 this passage. King Lear was published in Quarto in 1608. 
 In the early editions the same passage occurs, but in such 
 a mutilated form that no conjecture, however sagacious, 
 could ever have extracted the right reading from words 
 which, even when amended, are rather enigmatical. The 
 Quartos have, — 
 
 " Nothing almost sees my -iiTackc 
 But misery." 
 
 This is almost nonsense. If "my wracke " is taken as 
 the nominative to the verb sees in an inverted sentence — 
 my wrecked state sees only misery before it — this is exactly 
 what Kent does ]wt wish to express. For his whole 
 behaviour, his sense of the "comfortable" quahty of the 
 moonlight, his reading the letter by its imperfect light, 
 and then going to sleep, shows that his mind is not 
 occupied by his misery, but by the strange faculty of 
 ignoring it which possesses him. My wracke is evidently 
 a corruption of miracle. Who but the author could have 
 supplied the emendation ? At no time could a transcen-
 
 ADVERSITY SEES MIRACLES. 173 
 
 dentalism of this character — a piece of mystic philosophy — 
 have been " floating in the air." 
 
 It must be noted that different copies of the Quartos 
 vary, and in one the words my wracke are printed as 
 my rackles. This approximation to the true reading is, I 
 believe, only found in one copy, which is in the Bodleian 
 Library. All the rest have 7ny wracke. 
 
 The ready explanation of this will be that the Quarto 
 was a surreptitious copy obtained from a shorthand writer's 
 notes, and that the 1623 folio was printed from the author's 
 own MS. Those who can be satisfied with this account of 
 the genesis of the Quarto are welcome to their theory. 
 To me it appears in the highest degree artificial and 
 improbable. We know, however, from the peculiarities 
 of the Northumberland House MS. that Bacon was in the 
 habit of dictating to an amanuensis. It is certainly 
 possible that Lear was so dictated for the 4to. edition. 
 The mechanical clerk heard the word miracle, and did not 
 rightly catch the word. The error was not detected, and 
 remained uncorrected till the 1623 edition was published. 
 
 The interpretation of this passage, which is sug- 
 gested by the passage from Bacon's Essay, will, I 
 think, commend itself to every thoughtful reader. 
 It is obviously right. But it is not the interpretation 
 which commentators have suggested. One of them 
 paraphrases the passage thus : — " It is only when 
 things are at their worst that Providence interposes with 
 a miracle ; " a far more commonplace sentiment, and one 
 also which does not exactly fit the words. For there is in 
 them a profound reference to the vision which adversity 
 sees, and which remains as a secret for itself. The rescue 
 by miracle would be seen by others : the miracle here 
 referred to is seen only by the subject of it. 
 
 It is worth remark that the same definition of a miracle 
 is found in the Essay on the " Vicissitude of Things," 
 published in 1625, " For Martyrdoms I reckon them among 
 miracles, because they seem to exceed the strength of 
 human nature."
 
 174 shakespeare studies in baconian light. 
 
 3, — Sunshine Everywhere. 
 
 One of Bacon's frequently recurring aphorisms is that 
 sunshine penetrates even dunghills and cloaca, and yet is 
 not thereby defiled. So must it be with science and 
 philosophy : its beams must visit the foulest as well as the 
 most fragrant places, yet it still retains its purity, and the 
 knowledge so gained ranks in value with other knowledge. 
 For the sentiment has two aspects or facets : that relating 
 to the study of evil or polluted things ; and that relating to 
 the knowledge so derived. 
 
 Thus, in the Novum Orgamun I. 120, Bacon vindicates 
 for science the right, even the duty, to investigate even 
 filthy things : — 
 
 "And for things that are mean, or even filthy, things 
 which (as Pliny says) must be introduced with an apology, 
 such things, no less than the most splendid and costly, 
 must be admitted into natural history. Mor is natural 
 history polluted thereby, for the sun enters the sewer no 
 less than the palace, yet takes no pollution. . . . W'hat- 
 ever deserves to exist deserves also to be known, for 
 knowledge is the image of existence ; and things mean and 
 splendid exist alike. Moreover, as from certain putrid 
 substances — musk for instance and civet — the sweetest 
 odours are sometimes generated, so too from mean and 
 sordid instances there sometimes emanates excellent light 
 and information. But enough, and more than enough 
 of this : such fastidiousness being merely childish and 
 effeminate." 
 
 The other side of this sentiment refers to the necessity 
 for those who enter into human affairs to know the evil 
 arts of bad men, as well as the pure arts of good men. In 
 the third of the Mcditationes Sacrce this rule is well 
 expounded, as follows : — 
 
 " For men of corrupt understanding, that have lost all 
 sound discerning of good and evil, come possessed with 
 this prejudicate opinion, that they think all honesty and
 
 KNOWING THE DEEPS OF SATAN, 175 
 
 goodness proceedeth out of a simplicity of manners, and a 
 kind of want of experience and unacquaintance with the 
 affairs of the world." Therefore he infers that those who 
 aspire to "a fructifying and begetting goodness, which 
 should draw on others," should know the "deeps of Satan," 
 — should be wise as serpents and harmless as doves. ' ' There 
 are neither teeth nor stings, nor venom, nor wreaths and 
 folds of serpents, which ought not to be all known, and, as 
 far as examination doth lead, tried. Neither let any man 
 here fear infection or pollution : for the sun entereth into 
 sinks and is not defiled." 
 
 Bacon very frequently enforces the same axiom, and it 
 is usually illustrated by the universality of sunshine, which 
 is equally pure, whether it lights on sweetness or on 
 carrion. 
 
 Bacon's illustration of the sweet scent called civet being 
 derived from the mephitic civet cat, is echoed in Shake- 
 speare. Lear in his madness exclaims, " Give me an ounce 
 of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination." 
 {Lear IV. vi. 131). And the King in his earlier and more 
 sane mood had said : " Thou owest the worm no silk, 
 the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume." 
 {lb. III. iv. 108). And with a similar reference Touch- 
 stone says: "Civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very 
 uncleanly flux of a cat." {As You Like It III. ii. 60). 
 
 The philosophical attitude towards things evil is very 
 accurately expressed by Falconbridge, the Bastard, in King 
 John, who proposes to himself to study the arts by which 
 men rise, bad and good ; not that he may imitate them, 
 but be prepared either to use or to thwart them. 
 
 For he is but a bastard to the time 
 That doth not smack of observation ; 
 (And so am I, whether I smack or no); 
 And not alone in habit and device, 
 Exterior form, outward accoutrement, 
 But from the inward motion to deliver 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth; 
 Which, though I will not practise to deceive,
 
 176 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn : 
 
 For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising, 
 
 {John I. i. 207). 
 
 In other words, Falconbridge resolves to know as Bacon 
 even more poetically expresses it, all the deeps of Satan, 
 the stings, the venom, the serpentine wreaths which must 
 be known by any one who aspires to govern others. Sir 
 Walter Scott quotes part of this passage to illustrate the 
 maxim, "There is much in life which we must see, were 
 it only to shun it." (See " Fortunes of Nigel," Chap. XII). 
 
 The axiom that everything must be known, evil as well 
 as good, is used in justification of the wild young Prince 
 Hal, who associates with low company for this very 
 laudable purpose : — 
 
 The prince but studies his companions. 
 Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, 
 'Tis needful that the most immodest word 
 Be look'd upon and learn'd : whicli once attain'd. 
 Your Highness knows, comes to no further use, 
 But to be known and hated . . . their memor}^ 
 Shall as a pattern or a measure live 
 By which his grace must mete the lives of others. 
 Turning past evils to advantages. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. iv. 70). 
 
 The universality of sunshine is also referred to. Thus 
 Henry V., when in camp at Agincourt, visits and talks to 
 the rank and file of his army, as well as to his friends or 
 the nobles and officers : — 
 
 A largess universal, like the sun. 
 
 His liberal eye doth give to everyone. 
 
 (Hen. V. IV., Prol. 43). 
 
 The lost and unrecognized Princess, Perdita, finds 
 excellent use for the same law at once of nature and of 
 thought, when the king discovers that his son is her 
 accepted lover, and threatens fierce vengeance on her and 
 the family which has adopted her : —
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY UNITED. 177 
 
 I was not much afear'd ; for once or twice 
 
 I was about to speak, and tell him plainly 
 
 The self same sun that shines upon his court 
 
 Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
 
 Looks on alike. {Winter's Tale IV. iv. 453). 
 
 Here we have a near approach to Bacon's mode of 
 referring to the universality of sunshine, its equal radiance 
 in cottages and palaces, in sewers and in temples. This 
 point of view is also clearly reflected in Shakespeare. The 
 sun shining on a dunghill is humourously alluded to in 
 Merry Wives. Falstaff, flattering himself that Mistress 
 Page looks favourably on him, says, "Sometimes the 
 beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly 
 belly ; " and on this, Pistol makes the saucy comment — 
 
 Then did the sun on dunghill shine. 
 
 {Merry Wives I. iii. 70). 
 
 There is also a very subtle allusion to this maxim in 
 Twelfth Night III. i. 43. The clown replies to Viola, who had 
 told him that she had seen him lately at Count Orsino's : 
 " Foolery, sir, doth walk about the orb like the sun : 
 which shines everywhere," implying that it is the privilege 
 of a clown to make his comments on everything, he may 
 visit palaces as well as cottages, and moralise on trifles 
 which serious persons would disdain to notice. This is 
 one of the functions of Shakespeare's fools, to bring 
 philosophy from the heights of heaven to the lowliest 
 levels of earth. Lear's fool illustrates this, and his gibes 
 and jests contain a large amount of Baconian philosophy. 
 The same charter of freedom for folly, in its comments 
 and moralising is claimed by Jacques. He has been 
 listening to Touchstone's talk, and envies him his freedom 
 of discourse : — 
 
 that I were a fool, 
 
 I am ambitious for a motley coat .... it is my only suit. 
 
 1 must have liberty. 
 Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
 
 To blow on whom I please, for so fools have. 
 
 {As You Like It II. vii. 42
 
 178 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Here we see the identification of philosophy and 
 homehest common sense — the reflection of Bacon's Hfe- 
 long mission, to rescue philosophy from the subtleties of 
 the schools, and bring it into relation with all that concerns 
 the " business and the bosoms " of men. 
 
 4. The Genesis of Poetry. 
 
 One of Bacon's remarks about poetry is very striking 
 and original. In his "Advancement of Learning," he is very 
 busy cataloguing the deficiencies in science and study, 
 that have yet to be supplied. Poetry, however, is not a 
 deficient, it grows spontaneously everywhere: — "In this 
 part of learning [he says], I can report no deficience. For 
 being a plant that cometh of the lust of the earth without 
 a formal seed, it hath sprung up and spread abroad more 
 than any other kind." (Works III. 346). 
 
 This very peculiar description of the Natural History of 
 Poetry is exactly re-produced in Timon of Athens. But the 
 " plant without a formal seed " is not referred to in general 
 terms ; it is named. It is a gum, growing without seed, 
 which breaks out unbidden on the surface where it is 
 found. In Timon it is the poet himself who thus describes 
 the growth of his art : 
 
 A thing slipp'd idly from me : 
 
 Our poesy is as a gum which oozes 
 
 From whence 'tis nourished. The fire i' the flint 
 
 Shows not till it be struck : our gentle flame 
 
 Provokes itself, and like the current flies 
 
 Each bound it chafes. (Timoii I. i. 20). 
 
 The words "a thing slipp'd idly from me," bring up by 
 natural association that theory of the birth of poetry which 
 the poet-philosopher had already formed in his mind. It 
 is a plant growing spontaneously in a luxuriant soil, 
 \ coming "of the lust of the earth," not sown, a birth of 
 the soil itself, a gum which oozes from the surface which 
 nourishes it, a self-ignited flame kindled by a stroke, a 
 stream that bounds along by an irresistible current. It
 
 THE SPREAD OF MONEY. 179 
 
 does not matter which metaphor we use ; all express the 
 same idea. If, however, the analogy of a seedless plant 
 is the original form of the conception, it could not be 
 more felicitously transfigured than by its metamorphosis 
 into a gum which oozes from the exuberant sap of the 
 tree on which it grows, springing really from the lust 
 of the special plot of earth which nourishes it. Bacon's 
 account of the genesis of poetry is itself poetry of the 
 richest quality ; and although expressed in prose, it is, as 
 the play shews, easily transformed into poetry full of 
 music and metaphor. There is no impassable chasm be- 
 tween the two, and there is no antecedent improbability 
 in the idea that both forms of expression, the prose and 
 the poetic, were used by the same mind. 
 
 5. — Money and Muck. 
 
 Bacon often alludes to the principle that money ought 
 not to be monopolized by a few, but spread, like garden 
 compost or manure, over the state, for the enriching of the 
 many. In his " Paper of Advice " as to the application of 
 Sutton's estate, he says: — 
 
 "Thus have I briefly delivered unto your Majesty my 
 opinion touching the employment of this charity, whereby 
 the mass of wealth that was in the owner little better than 
 a stack or heap of muck, may be spread over your king- 
 dom to many fruitful purposes." (" Life," IV. 254). 
 
 In the Essay of " Seditions " we find the same policy 
 advocated : — "Above all things good policy is to be used 
 that the treasures and monies of a State be not gathered 
 into few hands. For otherwise a State may have a great 
 stock and yet starve ; and money is like muck, not good 
 except it be spread." 
 
 And in the Apophthegms he tells us : " Mr. Bettenham 
 used to say, That riches were like muck : when it lay upon 
 an heap, it gave but a stench and ill odour ; but when it 
 was spread upon the ground then it was cause of much 
 fruit." (Ap. 252, Works VII. 160).
 
 l80 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Now it is not a little significant that the word muck 
 occurs only once in Shakespeare, and in this passage 
 Bacon's maxim has not been recognised by the commenta- 
 tors, although it is certainly present — and when applied, 
 gives new interest and meaning to the passage. The 
 virtues and merits of Coriolanus are being described, in 
 order that he may be worthily honoured. Cominius puts. 
 a climax on his catalogue by telling of his indifference to 
 wealth, and the spoils of war : — 
 
 Our spoils he kick'd at, 
 And look'd upon things precious, as the}' were 
 The common muck of the world. 
 
 (^Cor. II. ii. 128). 
 
 The only comment on this which I have been able to 
 find is a suggestion that muck is equivalent to vilia reriim. 
 The poet certainly intended to suggest a good deal more- 
 than this, but the rich suggestiveness of the passage cannot 
 be easily brought out if Bacon's use of the word is not 
 remembered. The words themselves may express only a 
 conventional contempt for riches, which may be either noble- 
 and disinterested, or insincere and fantastical, or unreflec- 
 *.ive and morbid, or far-seeing and patriotic. Now 
 Coriolanus was a Statesman, as it is evident Shakespeare 
 was; and he is accustomed to regard not only the value,, 
 or the accumulation, but also the distribution of money.. 
 The poet represents his hero as refusing to heap up riches, 
 for himself, because he looked on a nation's wealth as good) 
 only when it is spread over the kingdom for many fruitful^ 
 purposes; and likely to diffuse an ill odour if it is too much 
 concentrated in a heap. This is the true inwardness of the- 
 "villa rcrum" — wealth is not rubbish, but manure. 
 
 6. — Past and Future. 
 
 Bacon often dwells on the rival claims of antiquitv andi 
 the present time — the ceaseless strife between old and new. 
 His invariable policy is to shew reverence to what is.
 
 STANDING YET MOVING. l8l 
 
 established, while not hesitating to go beyond and if neces- 
 sary to abandon it. So Tennyson tells us that "Men may 
 rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher 
 things. " The following passage gives a fair representation of 
 his teaching. It is from the "Pacification of the Church:" — 
 " It is excellently said by the prophet, State super vias 
 antiquas, et videte qucenani sint recta et vera, ct ambulate 
 in eis ; so as he doth not say State super vias antiquas et 
 ambulate in eis; for it is true that with all wise and mode- 
 rate persons custom and usage obtaineth that reverence, 
 as it is sufficient matter to move them to make a stand, 
 and discover, and take a view; but it is no warrant to guide 
 or conduct them : a just ground, I say, it is of deliberation 
 but not of direction." (" Life," III. 105). 
 
 The same sentiment in almost the same words is found 
 in the Essay of "Innovations," in the "Advancement." 
 (Works III. 291), and elsewhere. 
 
 I am persuaded that the same idea is secreted in the 
 rather cryptic words of Salisbury, when he is anticipating 
 the changes in the State that are impending after Melun's 
 rebellion is ended : — 
 
 Away, my friends ! New flight ! 
 And happy newness iliat intends old right. 
 
 ('John V. iv. 60). 
 
 Intend is a very strong word, peculiarly used, in Shake- 
 speare. The vernacular sense which contemplates the 
 future is included with the classic sense which looks with 
 fixed and thoughtful gaze on the present. (See the section 
 on intend in Chapter xiv. The classic language of Shake- 
 speare.) It exactly combines this significance of the two 
 Latin words, State and videte : make a stand, and take 
 a direction; it connotes a mental pause and a prepara- 
 tion for new action. Nothing could possibly be more 
 felicitous than the introduction of this Latin word to ex- 
 press the meaning which Bacon is accustomed to express 
 by the combination of two words. Doubtless this is a 
 subtle interpretation; but when Bacon's idea is brought into
 
 l82 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 relation with the passage, the interpretation is not far 
 fetched — it is easy and natural ; and by this conjunction 
 of Bacon with Shakespeare, the words of the poet gather 
 fuller meaning and greatly augmented interest. 
 
 7. — Impossibilities. 
 
 Bacon constantly asserts that no effective advance in 
 science can be made, unless new methods of investigation 
 are used. " For no man can be so dull as to believe that 
 what has never yet been done can be done, except by 
 means hitherto unattempted." (" Hist. Life and Death," 
 Works V. 267). He preaches a noble discontent : — 
 " Men do not rightly understand either their store or 
 their strength, but over-rate the one and under-rate the 
 other." " Whatever any art fails to attain, they set down 
 as impossible of attainment " (Preface to Novum Organum). 
 This canon of impossibility he is never tired of resisting. 
 Two classical passages, one from Virgil, the other from 
 Livy, are repeatedly produced in this argument. Possunt 
 quia posse videntit^r — what seems possible becomes possible. 
 And NihU airAcl qua'n bene austis Vana contenmere : refer- 
 ring to Alexander the Great — all he did was to venture 
 greatly and despise idle apprehensions. 
 
 One reason for the stationary condition of the sciences 
 is that "the logicians receive as conclusive the immediate 
 information of the sense." But "the testimony and 
 information of the sense has reference always to man, not 
 to the universe; and it is a great error to assert that sense 
 is the measure of things." 
 
 These maxims are often repeated and much amplified 
 in Bacon's writings; but for my immediate purpose these 
 expressions of them are sufficient. 
 
 It seems to me that the writer of AlVs Well that Ends Well 
 had these principles in view when he represents the cure, 
 in the case of the King, of a disease which all his physicians 
 had pronounced incurable. 
 
 He hath abandoned his physicians, under whose practices he hatli
 
 SUCCESS BY VENTURING. 183 
 
 persecuted time with liope, and finds no otlier advantage in the 
 process, but only the losing of hope by time. {All's Well I. i. 12). 
 
 The central thought of AlTs Well is — Possunt quia posse 
 videntur. 
 
 Helena has a remedy which she knows is likely to be 
 effectual, and she scouts the assumption of impossibility 
 which the physicians had pronounced ; who made their 
 own senses and attainments the measure of things and the 
 limits of possibility : — 
 
 The fated sky 
 Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull 
 Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull . . . 
 Impossible be strange attempts to those 
 That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose 
 What hath been cannot be. {lb. I. i. 239). 
 
 It is not so with Him that all things knows 
 As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows. 
 
 {lb. II. i. 152). 
 
 And what impossibility would slay 
 
 In common sense, sense saves another way. 
 
 {lb. 180). 
 
 In these passages we may recognize the idea expressed 
 in the 6th Axiom of Novum Organum I. : — "Insanum I 
 quiddam esset, et in se contrarium, existimare ea, quae 
 adhunc nunquam facta sunt fieri posse, nisi per modos 
 adhunc nunquam tentatos." "It is a wild and self- \ 
 contradictory fancy to suppose that those things which 
 have never been accomplished can be done at all except by 
 the use of methods hitherto untried." What is impossible 
 by ordinary procedure becomes possible when we can find 
 out " another way " of acting. The rather obscure passage 
 in Shakespeare is thus interpreted by Bacon, and is not 
 easily explained except by reference to his " modos adhunc 
 nunquam tentatos." Moreover, what the poet means by 
 common sense must be ascertained by reference to Bacon's 
 philosophical expression of the same idea. It is the 
 immediate apprehension of the senses.
 
 184 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The bene ausus contemcre finds expression in another play. 
 Lucio remonstrates with Isabella for underrating her own 
 power. 
 
 Assay the power you have. 
 Isab. — My power ? Alas I doubt — 
 
 Lucio. — Our doubts are traitors, 
 
 And make us lose the good we oft might win 
 By fearing to attempt. 
 
 {Mcas.for Meas. I. iv. 76). 
 
 And in Venus and Adonis, the poet himself, moralizing on 
 the situation, says (567) : — 
 
 Things out of hope are compass'd oft with venturing. 
 
 The identity of the philosophical sentiments of the poet 
 with those of the philosopher cannot be mistaken. 
 
 8.— Physiognomy. 
 
 In Bacon's survey of the sciences, he is careful to note 
 any branch of science which ought to be or might be 
 pursued, but which has been neglected. Among these 
 "deficients," he names Physiognomy, which, he says, 
 "discovers the dispositions of the mind by the lineaments 
 of the body." These "lineaments of the body disclose 
 the dispositions and inclinations of the mind in general ; 
 but the motions and gestures of the countenance .... 
 disclose also the present humour of the mind and will." 
 The fact that this deficiency exists is noticed also, in 
 apparently a very casual way, in Macbeth, when Duncan 
 says of the Thane of Cawdor — 
 
 There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face. 
 
 (Macb. I. iv. 11). 
 
 I do not think this philosophical fact is blurted out by 
 accident ; the poet knew exactly what his words implied. 
 He was even more a philosopher than a poet, and had 
 evidently taken exceptional interest in Physiognomy. In 
 other places he refers to this art : —
 
 THE FACE AND THE HEART. 185 
 
 O, what may man within him hide, 
 Though angel on the outward side. 
 
 {Meas.for Meas. III. ii. 285). 
 
 Queen Catherine had some notions of physiognomy in 
 her mind when she told the cardinals : 
 
 Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. III. i. 145). 
 
 Shakespeare, like Bacon, believed that the motions and 
 gestures of the face disclose the present humour and state 
 of the mind and will, whether we can interpret these 
 motions or not. For he says, 
 
 All men's faces are true, whatsoe'er their hands are. 
 
 {Ant. CI CO. II. vi. 102). 
 
 And Macbeth knows that crime writes itself on the 
 features, and that the countenance of guilt must put on 
 falsity. 
 
 False face must hide what this false heart doth know. 
 
 {Macb. I. vii. 82). 
 
 Still more clearly in Lucrece is the art alluded to. 
 Lucrece is looking at a picture, a piece of skilful painting, 
 made for Priam's Troy and some of the "thousand lament- 
 able objects there," to which. 
 
 In scorn of Nature Art gave lifeless life, 
 are vividly described : among the rest, — 
 
 In Ajax and Ulysses, O, what art 
 
 Of phvsiognomy might one behold ! 
 
 The face of either ciphered either's heart ; 
 
 Their face their manners most expressly told : 
 
 In Ajax' eyes blunt rage and rigour roird ; 
 But the mild glance that sly Ulysses lent, 
 Show'd deep regard and smiling government. 
 
 (See Lucrece 1366-1400). 
 
 g. — Sleep. 
 
 Bacon's ideas about sleep are very characteristic. He 
 often gives expression to two of them : ist. Sleep is a
 
 l86 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 nourisher, it feeds the body ; 2nd, Afternoon sleep is very 
 salutary, especially for elderly and infirm persons. 
 
 As to the nourishing property of sleep, he says: "As 
 exercise demands more nourishment, so likewise sleep to a 
 certain extent supplies it." ("Hist. Life and Death"). 
 Again, "Sleep nourisheth, or at least preserveth bodies a 
 long time without other nourishment. Beasts that sleep in 
 winter, as is noted in wild bears, during their sleep wax 
 very fat, though they eat nothing." {Syl. Syl. 746). 
 In another of his natural history notes (57) he says that 
 " sleep doth nourish much." 
 
 This property of sleep is used metaphorically in one of 
 the Antitheta concerning loquacity. "Silence, like a 
 sleep, nourishes wisdom (or prudence)." " Silentium, 
 veluti somnus quidam, alit prudentiam." {De Aug. VI. 
 iii., Ant. 31). 
 
 As to the second property of sleep, — its benefit in the 
 afternoon to weak or elderly persons, — he writes: — "In 
 aged men and weak bodies, and such as abound not in 
 choler, a short sleep after dinner doth help to nourish.''' 
 The two points, it may be observed, are here combined. 
 And again, in his Com. Sol., as to sleep, " Immediately 
 after dinner, or at four of the clock, I could never yet find 
 resolution and strength enough in myself to inhibit it." 
 ("Life" IV. 79). 
 
 These maxims both interpret and augment the meaning 
 of several passages in Shakespeare. For instance, when 
 he calls sleep "Nature's soft nurse " (2 Hen. IV. III. i. 6), 
 he means not only a watcher or a servant, but a nursing 
 mother, with well-stored breasts : and we can by this light 
 (and by this only) understand why Macbeth calls sleep. 
 
 Great Nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast. 
 
 (Macb. II. ii. 38). 
 
 These words are intended to express, not merely poetic 
 fancies, but scientific facts. 
 
 As to the second point, we remember how the Ghost in
 
 NATURE GOVERNS ART. 187 
 
 Hamlet narrates to young Hamlet the manner of his death: 
 he had been poisoned when, — 
 
 Sleeping within n\\ orchard, 
 My custom always of the afternoon. 
 
 (Ham. I. V. 59). 
 
 And in the Tempest, Cahban, plotting to murder Prospero, 
 knows that his best opportunity will be in the afternoon, 
 when he is taking his usual nap : — 
 
 'Tis a custom with him i' the afternoon to sleep. 
 
 (Temp. III. ii. 94) 
 
 10. — Nature and Art. 
 
 We in this nineteenth century are accustomed to think 
 of the works or effects of Art as being merely the result of 
 bringing human faculties to work in the moulding or appli- 
 cation of the matter and force supplied by Nature. But 
 Bacon tells us that up to his time, Art and Nature had 
 been contrasted as different from one another : and when 
 he set down the "History of the Arts" as a species of 
 Natural History, he considered that he was running 
 counter to prevalent opinion. " I am the rather induced to 
 set down the history of arts as a species of natural history, 
 because it is the fashion to talk as if art were something 
 different from nature, so that things artificial should be 
 separated from things natural, as differing totally in kind. 
 . . Whereas men ought on the contrary to have a 
 settled conviction, that things artificial differ from things 
 natural, not in form or essence, but only in the efficient ; 
 that man has in truth no power over nature except that of 
 motion . . . the rest is done by nature working within." 
 ("Intell. Globe." Works V. 506). This theory, which 
 Bacon claims as original, is most exactly expressed by 
 Shakespeare : — 
 
 Nature is made better by no mean 
 But Nature makes that mean ; so over that art 
 Which you say adds to Nature, is an art 
 That nature makes ; . . . this is an art
 
 l88 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Which does niend nature, change it rather, hut 
 
 The art itself is nature. (IT. Talc. IV. iv. 89). 
 
 This is the only passage in Shakespeare where this axiom 
 is formally expressed, and it is all the more significant 
 because it is placed in immediate relation with the 
 remarkable list of flowers which is so curiously identical 
 with the same list, similarly grouped, and similarly 
 classified in Bacon's Essay of "Gardens," published in 
 1625. Mr. Spedding was the first to draw attention to this 
 striking coincidence. It has been repeatedly referred to 
 since the publication of his Edition of Bacon's works. 
 His language is worth quoting: "The scene in the 
 Winter's Tale where Perdita presents the guests with 
 flowers suited to their ages, has some expressions, which, 
 if this Essay had been contained in the earlier edition, 
 would, have made me suspect that Shakespeare had been 
 reading it. As I am not aware that the resemblance has 
 been observed, I will quote the passages to which I allude 
 in connection with those which remind me of them." 
 Spedding has no explanation to offer ; certainly some is 
 required. This Baconian garland is so well known that I 
 need not reproduce it. 
 
 II. — Nature and Fortune. 
 
 Bacon frequently draws a contrast between the gifts of 
 nature and those of fortune : especially when he is con- 
 templating the characters and careers of royal personages. 
 The whole of the dedication of the " Advancement of 
 Learning " to King James is taken up with a ceremonial 
 and laudatory description of the "parts of virtue and 
 fortune " belonging to the royal personage. He follows 
 this into most exquisite detail. "And as in your Civil 
 Estate there appeareth to be an emulation and contention 
 of your Majesty's virtue with your fortune, a virtuous 
 disposition with a fortunate regiment ; a virtuous expecta- 
 tion (when time was) of your greater fortune, with a
 
 NATURE AND FORTUNE HAND IN HAND. 189 
 
 prosperous possession thereof in due time ; a virtuous 
 observation of the laws of marriage, with most blessed and 
 happy fruit of marriage ; a virtuous and most Christian 
 desire of peace, with a fortunate inclination in your neigh- 
 bour princes thereunto ; so likewise in these intellectual 
 matters, there seemeth to be no less contention between 
 the excellency of your Majesty's gifts of Nature and the 
 universality and perfection of your learning." — (Works, 
 III. 262). 
 
 The same contrast is the leading motive of the Eulog}- 
 on Queen Elizabeth. The opening sentence gives the 
 key-note of the whole piece. "Elizabeth both in her 
 nature and fortune, was a wonderful person among women 
 [Nature], a memorable person among princes " [Fortune], 
 (Works, VI. 305). And at the close he sums up with 
 the characteristic words, " So little was she disposed to 
 borrow anything of her fortune to the credit of her virtue." 
 (p. 318). The same contrast is implied in the three 
 Essays, 38, 39, and 40, of " Nature in Man," of " Custom 
 and Education," and of " Fortune." 
 
 Shakespeare is equally partial to the same contrast, 
 especially when he too is contemplating the qualities and 
 careers of high persons. Constance, describing the qualities 
 and fortunes of her son Prince Arthur, says : — 
 
 But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy 
 Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great. 
 Of Nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, 
 And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O 
 She is corrupted, clianged and won from thee. 
 
 {John III. i. 51). 
 
 Brutus, has for Caesar, whom he has just slain, — 
 
 Tears for his love; joy for his fortune ; honour for his valour ; and 
 death for his ambition. — Jul. Civs. III. ii. 29. 
 
 Enobarbus philosophises with much depth of wisdom 
 on the rash course of Antony which led to his destruction : 
 
 I see men's judgments are 
 A parcel of tlieir fortunes; and things outward
 
 igo SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 I Do draw the inward quality after them. 
 
 {Ant. Cli-o. III. xiii. 31). 
 
 Dogberry has a glimmering, topsy-turvy perception of 
 the same contrast : 
 
 To be a well favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to read and 
 
 write comes bv nature. 
 
 (Much Ado III. in. is). 
 
 Rosahnd is of the same opinion, without the confusion : 
 
 Fortune reigns in the gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of 
 nature. {--i^ yon I^ikc I. ii. 44) : 
 
 and there is much more to the same effect in the context. 
 
 Now, it is not a httle significant that the mental 
 attitude here indicated is much more characteristic of 
 Roman and Latin philosophy than of Christian philosophy. 
 It is adopted by the Elizabethan philosopher and poet 
 because his mind was saturated with such philosophy as 
 Cicero and other Latin writers habitually enforce. The 
 following is a specimen of this kind of sentiment : — 
 
 Sed tamen alterius partis periculum, Sertorianae atque 
 Hispaniensis, quas multo plus fiirmamenti ac roboris 
 habebat, Cn Pompeii divino consilio ac smgulari virtute 
 depulsum est ; in altera parte ita res a L. Lucullo summo 
 viro est administrata, ut initia ilia rerum gestarum magna 
 atque pras clara non felicitati ejus, sed virtuti, haec autem 
 extrema, quae nuper acciderunt non culpa, sed fortuncc 
 ,i!rt6;^6'n^rt esse videantur. — 'Cic De Imperio Cn Pompeii 
 Oratio, 4." 
 
 Which may be translated : 
 
 But yet the danger in one quarter from Sertorius and the 
 Spaniards, which affair was possessed of more endurance 
 and vitality, was warded off by the more than human 
 wisdom and singular valour of Cneius Pompey ; while in 
 the other quarter, affairs were so handled by that most 
 capable man L. Lucullus, that the first events in the 
 campaign, great and brilliant though the}^ were, were due 
 not to his good fortune but to his valour, whilst those events
 
 THE CENTRE OF MOVEMENT. I9I 
 
 which have lately befallen, appear to be due not to an}- 
 fault on his part but to the caprice of fortune. 
 
 12. — Primum Mobile. 
 
 In the Promiis, No. 1452, Bacon makes a note of the 
 Primum mobile as suitable for literary use: ^^ Primum 
 mobile turns about all the rest of the orbs." The Primum 
 mobile is that movement which every celestial body derives 
 from the central body about which its orbit is fixed. 
 Every such body has also its own independent motion 
 referable only to causes affecting itself. The King is the 
 source of Primum mobile to all his subjects: "Those that 
 he useth as his substitutes move wholly in his motion." 
 ("Life" IV. 285). When this centre no longer attracts, 
 disloyalty results. " Though my Lady should have put on 
 a mind to continue her loyalty, as Nature and duty did 
 bind her, yet when she was in another sphere, she must 
 have moved in the motion of that orb, and not of the 
 planet itself," referring, I believe, to Lady Arabella Stuart. 
 ("Life" IV. 298). 
 
 This is the advice which Bacon gives to the Judges : — 
 "You that are Judges of circuits, are as it were the 
 planets of the kingdom. ... Do therefore as they 
 (the planets) do ; move always and be carried with the 
 motion of your first mover, which is your sovereign. A 
 popular Judge is a deformed thing ; and plaudites are fitter 
 for players than magistrates." (" Life" VI. 211). On this 
 principle, Bacon was ready, if needs be, to acquiesce in 
 that which he disapproved. He advises Buckingham to act 
 on this principle. "My Lord, you owe in this matter two 
 debts to the King. The one " [if you disapprove of the 
 Spanish match, to say so, and shew your reason]; "the 
 other, that if the King in his high judgment, or the Prince 
 in his settled affection, be resolved to have it go on, that 
 you move in their orb so far as they shall lay it upon you." 
 {lb. VII. 449). This principle is naturally used in the 
 Essay of "Seditions," which may arise when reverence of
 
 ig2 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 government is lost and great persons "move violently in 
 their own particular motion." It is used to explain the 
 pernicious influence of superstition: "Atheism leaves a 
 man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to 
 reputation .... but superstition dismounts all these, 
 and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the minds of men 
 .... a new priinuin mobile that ravisheth all the spheres 
 of government." This accounts for the injury done to the 
 State by " Wisdom for a man's self." " It is a poor centre 
 of a man's actions, himself. It is right Earth [terrestial, 
 not celestial]. For that only stands fast upon its own 
 centre : whereas all things that have affinity with the 
 heavens move upon the centre of another, which they 
 benefit." A similar application is made in the Essay of 
 "Faction." 
 
 This idea is expressed with the same emphasis in Shake- 
 speare. Luciana, remonstrating with the Syracusan fac 
 simile of her sister's husband says : — 
 
 We in your motion turn, and you may move us. 
 
 {Com. Er. III. ii. 24). 
 
 Antony, justifying his contempt for Lepidus, the "slight 
 unmeritable man," whom Octavius claims to be "a. tried 
 and valiant soldier " : — 
 
 So is my horse, Octavius. . . . 
 
 It is a creature that I teach to fight, 
 
 To wind, to stop, to run directly on, 
 
 His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit. 
 
 {Jul. Civs. IV. i. 29). 
 
 Prince Henry will not brook rivalry or comparison with 
 Hotspur, — 
 
 I am tlie Prince of Wales, and think not, Percy, 
 To share with me in glory any more. 
 Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere. 
 Nor can one England brook a double reign 
 Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. V. iv. 63).
 
 PLANETARY MOVEMENT. 193 
 
 The same idea is put into the mouth of Marlowe's 
 Edward II., when abdicating : — 
 
 Here, take my crown ; the life of Edward too. 
 Two Kings in England cannot reign at once. 
 
 {Edward 11. V. i. 57). 
 
 The usurping king in Hamlet, describes his queen, 
 Hamlet's mother : — 
 
 The queen, his mother, 
 
 Lives almost by his looks ; and for myself — 
 
 My virtue or my plague, be it either which, — 
 
 She's so conjunctive to my life and soul, 
 
 That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, 
 
 I could not but by her. 
 
 [Haul. IV. vii. 11). 
 
 This was the kind of attraction by which Helena is 
 drawn to Bertram : — 
 
 I am undone : there is no living, none, 
 If Bertram be away. Twere all one 
 That I should love a bright particular star 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me : 
 In his bright radiance and collateral light 
 Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
 
 {All's Well I. i. 96). 
 
 Shakespeare's opinion about sedition is much the same 
 as Bacon's. Kmg Henry IV. asks the rebels,— 
 
 Will you again unknit 
 This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ? 
 And move in that obedient orb again 
 Where you did give a fair and natural light ? 
 
 (I Hen. IV. V. i. 15.) 
 
 Falconbridge, addressing certain nobles who had re- 
 volted, but returned to allegiance, says, — 
 
 Now, now, ye stars that move in your right spheres, 
 
 Where be your powers ? 
 
 {John V. vii. 74). 
 

 
 194 shakespeare studies in baconian light. 
 
 13. — Philosophia Prima. 
 
 The laws of Nature, which are also the laws of life and 
 thought, which are exemplified in the Primiim Mobile 
 belong properly to Bacon's Philosophia prima, some 
 specimens of which may be now given. 
 
 Bacon was greatly interested in the Maxims of Philo- 
 sophia prima — universal laws, applicable to all forms and 
 spheres of being — true for mathematics, for physics, for 
 ethics, for policy. In this respect Bacon's mind evidently 
 had an element of mysticism in its composition. For he 
 will not allow these "correspondences between the archi- 
 tectures and fabrics of things natural and things civil " to 
 be only similitudes, or fancies, "but plainly the same foot- 
 steps of nature treading or printing upon different subjects," 
 which is a close approximation to Swedenborg's doctrine 
 of correspondences. One of these maxims is, "In nature 
 things move violently to their place, and calmly in their 
 place. So virtue in ambition is violent, in authority, 
 settled and calm." (See Essay of "Great Place." Anti- 
 theta on "Office.") This law of the highest Philosophy is 
 certainly referred to in the words, — 
 
 All things that are 
 i_ Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed. 
 
 {Mcr. Yen. II. vi. 12). 
 
 The whole passage is so strikingly in accordance with the 
 spirit and idea of Bacon's Philosophia prima, that it may be 
 added to the specimens which he gives in the " Advance- 
 ment " and De Aug. III. ii. ; Works I. 540, III. 346, IV. 
 337. It should also be noted that Bacon gives several of 
 these specimens because the scientific discussion of this 
 philosophy is entirely neglected — there is a "mere and 
 deep silence " upon it — it is as a branch of science, 
 non-existant. This gives a deeper significance to the illus- 
 trations of the same Philosophy in Shakespeare — specimens 
 evidently given with a perfect consciousness of their philo- 
 sophical import, being such "profitable observations and
 
 MYSTIC CORRESPONDENCIES. IQS 
 
 axioms as fall not within the compass of any of the special 
 parts of philosophy or science, but are more common, and 
 of a higher stage." The entire passage is as follows : — 
 
 Gratia no. — It is marvel he outdwells his hour, 
 
 For lovers ever run before the clock, 
 
 Salarino. — O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 
 To seal love's bonds, new-made, than they are wont 
 To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 
 
 Graiiano. — That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast 
 With tliat keen appetite that he sits down ? 
 WHiere is the horse that doth untread again 
 His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
 That he did pace them first ? All things that are 
 Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed. 
 How like a younker or a prodigal 
 The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
 Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind. 
 How like the prodigal doth she return 
 With over-weather'd ribbs and ragged sails. 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind. 
 
 If anyone hesitates as to the possibility of admitting 
 such fancies as these into grave philosophical discussion, 
 let him compare them with the dozen illustrations of 
 "Persian Magic " given in De Aug. III. ii. Every one of 
 these illustrations is quite as remote from our conceptions 
 as to the sort of wares a philosopher should deal in as the 
 specimens given by Salarino and Gratiano. I cannot my- 
 self doubt that the same intention of discussing grave 
 moral and political questions by the methods of the 
 Philosophia prima is to be recognised in the marvellous 
 discourses of Agamemnon, Nestor and Ulysses in Tro. 
 Cres. I. iii. Various types of " checks and disasters " shew 
 the "correspondences between the architectures and 
 fabrics of things natural and things civil," — the reproof of 
 chance which shews the true proof of men is seen in ships 
 and trees and cattle as much as in men, — the universal 
 principle that neglect of "degree, priority, place, insisture, 
 course, proportion, season, form, office and custom, in all
 
 Tg6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 line of order" brings disaster and ruin, is to be seen in 
 planets, storms, seas, rivers, the fixity and calm of Nature, 
 as well as in armies, states, families, factions, schools, 
 brotherhoods, commerce : and all of these are so many 
 pages and sections of the Philosophia prima, so many 
 contributions to the supply of its deficiencies. The 
 majestic speeches in this marvellous play are full of this 
 philosophy. 
 
 Sometimes the analogy which is raised to the dignity of 
 Natural law, is not entirely in agreement with facts. A 
 most remarkable illustration is the following: — 
 
 On the accession of Henry V. to the throne, there is a 
 scene in which the Archbishop of Canterbury and the 
 Bishop of Ely are speaking of the " blessed change " from 
 wild prince Hal, to the wise, sagacious, and truly noble 
 monarch. The prince who had been addicted to riotous 
 company is now a pattern to the wisest. How has the 
 change come about ? The Bishop replies : — 
 
 The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, 
 And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best 
 ■ Neighbour d by fruit of baser qualit}'. 
 And so the prince obscured his contemplation 
 Under the veil of wildness ; which no doubt 
 Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, 
 Unseen vet crescive in his faculty. 
 
 (Hen. r. I. i. 60). 
 
 The horticulture of this passage is very doubtful ; yet it is 
 exactly expounded in the Sylva Sylvanun, where we find 
 a chapter on experiments in "Consort" touching the 
 sympathy and antipathy of things, and this is one of the 
 illustrations. "Wheresoever one plant draweth such a 
 particular juice out of the earth as it qualifieth the earth, 
 so as that juice which remaineth is fit for the other plant, 
 there the neighbourhood [mark the word] doeth good, 
 because the nourishments are contrary or several : but 
 where two plants draw much the same juice then the 
 neighbourhood hurteth." The idea is that the sweet fruit
 
 FANTASTIC HORTICULTURE. 197 
 
 monopolizes the sweet producing qualities of the soil, and 
 flourishes better if the nearest plants do not produce 
 sweetness, but something else, — the contrasted quality of 
 the plants is advantageous to each. See Syl. Syl. 480 — 491. 
 The same idea is thus expressed in the Novum Organon : 
 *' If it be said that there is consent [consensus] and friend- 
 ship between corn and the corn-cockle or wild poppy, 
 because these herbs hardly come up except in ploughed 
 fields, it should rather be said that there is enmity between 
 them, because the poppy and corn-cockle are emitted and 
 generated from a juice of the earth which the corn has 
 left and rejected, so that sowing the ground with corn 
 prepares it for their growth." {Nov. Org. II. 50). 
 
 Another physiological doctrine was that life may be 
 prolonged by medicine : some drugs being capable of 
 warding off dissolution, even though they do not cure 
 disease, or give any other benefit. "The third part of 
 medicine which I have set down is that which relates to 
 the Prolongation of life, which is new and deficient, and 
 the most noble of all," and he proceeds to supply 
 "admonitions, directions and precepts." {Dc Aug. 
 IV. ii). This gives a much needed key to the extent of 
 meaning in the following lines, — 
 
 B}' medicine life may be prolong'd, yet Death 
 
 Will seize the doctor too. 
 
 {Cyinb. V. v. 29). 
 
 The significance of this is all the greater, when we observe 
 that Bacon refers to this department of medical art as one 
 that is neglected, deficient, and almost forgotten. 
 
 Conclusion, — Philosophical Maxims. 
 
 The correspondences both in thought and expression 
 given in this chapter are of a very significant character. 
 They are not mere chance repetitions of current ideas, the 
 common property of all literary persons, winged creatures 
 flying in the air for any one to catch and cage. It is easy to
 
 ig8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 toss them aside with these explanations; but those who use 
 them are bound to enter into detail and point out some at 
 least of the common sources whence they are derived. It is 
 not for us to prove the negative contention that they were 
 not current commonplaces at the time they were produced. 
 If they were it cannot be difficult for those who take the 
 affirmative position to prove that. It should, however, be 
 noticed that even if some casual approximation to the same 
 ideas and expressions may be found in other writers, yet in 
 their Shakespearean setting they are so characteristically 
 Baconian that no well-informed person hesitates to attri- 
 bute them to him, as specially characteristic of his mind 
 and thought. We may claim for Bacon certain patent 
 rights in his mines and forges, — in the sunshine which 
 visits the vilest places, — in his special mode of affirming 
 the fertilizing uses of money, — in his use o{ possnnt quia posse 
 videntur, — in the nourishment which he finds in his afternoon 
 sleep, — in his resolute identification of Art and Nature, — 
 and in the strange poetic fancies of his Philosophia Prima : 
 and so on through a countless number of such instances as 
 are supplied by the Proinus, and in the echoes and 
 correspondencies which are pointed out in the next two 
 chapters. Some of these characteristically Baconian 
 utterances have become current since his day. No one 
 now refers the title of Charles Dickens' "Household 
 Words " to Shakespeare. When we use Shakespeare's 
 immortal words about bringing taper-light to garnish sun- 
 light, we do not trace it to Bacon's mem.orandum To help 
 the Sun with lanterns. We are the careless inheritors of a 
 great literary estate, and we forget our illustrious ancestor 
 who won it for us : the trees he planted seem to our 
 unreflective eyes to be self-sown. As soon as all the items 
 of this vast literary property are labelled with the names 
 of their original inventors the names of Bacon and 
 Shakespeare are so intrinsically and organically united that 
 it is impossible to separate them, and the identity of the 
 two is almost demonstrated.
 
 rgg 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PROMUS. 
 
 In this and the following chapter, I wish to bring together 
 a number of striking correspondences between the lan- 
 guage or the thought of Bacon and that of Shakespeare. 
 And first of all we must open the Projuus and form a 
 general conception of its purpose, and its significance as an 
 argument for the Baconian authorship of Shakespeare. 
 
 The Proinus is a collection of Notes and Hints for 
 literary use : seeds of thought ; studies in composition ; it 
 is the common place book of a scholar who is also an 
 author. In it we find a large collection of proverbs in 
 English, French, Spanish and Italian : texts from the 
 Bible ; quotations froni Erasmus, Virgil, Ovid, Horace, 
 Seneca. Also a number of what are termed "turns of 
 expression," little phrases for use at the beginning oi a 
 sentence ; or for sustaining a dialogue ; typical specimens 
 of repartee, or of rhyming conversation ; odds and ends of 
 all sorts. 
 
 Bacon undoubtedly used many of these hints for thought 
 and composition in his acknowledged works. It is quite 
 impossible to say how many. The connection between the 
 crude hint and the finished result may be invisible ; the 
 "seeds and weak beginnings" may have been so altered as 
 they passed through the growing ground of Bacon's mind 
 that the developed organism may be unrecognizable. 
 Looking with some detail into this question, I have con- 
 cluded that the following Promus notes may be more or 
 less clearly connected with Bacon's prose writings : — 
 
 Nos. 3—6 ; 8—10 ; 13 ; 22, g ; 32 ; 41, 3, 4 ; 5i» 2, 4 ;
 
 200 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 60—63; 70, 2, 4; 81; 83—86, g; 92, 3, s,7\ (^'•^- 35 in 
 what Bacon would call the first Century. 
 
 Nos. 104—6; 112, 6, 7; 122, 8; 132; 145, 8; 151, 9; 
 162,6; 178; 184,7; 191; ( = 20). 
 
 Nos. 222, 5> 6, 7 ; 230, 5, 7 ; 241 ; 250, 9 ; 266, 7, 9 ; 
 292 (=18). 
 
 Nos. 302, 3, 8 ; 323, 9 ; 332, 3, 9 ; 341, 4, 7 ; 35o> 2, 3, 5, 
 7 ; 362, 4, 9 ; 370, 5 ; 380, i, 6 ; 392 ; ( = 32). 
 
 Nos. 400, 2, 5 ; 412 5, 9 ; 433 : 448 ; 451, 4 ; 4^1, 5» 8 ; 
 475. 9; 4^7 ; ( = 16). 
 
 Nos. 506 ; 512, 6 ; 520, 8 ; 530, 2 ; 541, 5, 6, 9 ; 553 ; 
 561, 3; 570, I, 6, 7; ( = 18). 
 
 Nos. 601 ; 610, 4, 9 ; 637 ; 641 ; 658 ; 664, 9 ; 676 ; 688 ; 
 690, 8; ( = 13). 
 
 Nos. 705, 6, 8 ; 710, 9 ; 724, 7 ; 730, 2, 9 ; 741, 2, 7a; 751 ; 
 760, 2, 6 ; 780 ; 794, 5, 6, 7a ; ( = 22). 
 
 Nos. 802, 6 ; 817, g; 832, 6, 8; 850, i, 6 ; 872, 6, 7 ; 880 ; 
 
 891, 3, 9; ( = 17)- 
 
 Nos. 908 ; 910 ; 925 ; 944, 5 ; 965 ; 979 ; 989 ; 992 ; 
 
 (=9)- 
 
 Nos. looi, 2 ; 1026 ; 1041 ; 1055 ; 1060, 2, 6 ; 1080 i, 2; 
 
 (=11). 
 
 Nos. 1106, 7 ; 1113, 5, 7 ; 1121 ; 1133, 7 ; 1142, 9 ; 1150, 
 
 I, 2, 4, 5 ; 1167a ; 1169 ; 1171, 2, 5 ; 1180 ; (=21). 
 
 Nos. 1234— 1362 ; 1365, 7, 9 ; 1395. 6, 7; (=134)- 
 
 Nos. 1400, 3 ; 1432 ; 1440 — 1460 ; 1472, 4 ; ( = 26). 
 Nos. 1506 ; 1532 ; 1629 i (=23). 
 Total 395. 
 
 In this enumeration I have included the whole of the 
 entries numbered 1234 — ^3^2, i.e. 128 successive notes, 
 because they are all of about the same quality, and are 
 evidently notes for a larger collection of " Colours of Good 
 and Evil," or for Essays, or discussions in some of the 
 Sections of the Novum Organon or other scientific writings. 
 Although it is not possible to connect many of these notes 
 with anything actually published, yet their intention is 
 clear ; and they have the additional interest of showing
 
 BACONIAN GERMS : SHAKESPEAREAN PLANTS. 201 
 
 that Bacon contemplated a much larger collection of 
 " Colours " and Essays than he has actually completed. 
 In this department of his literary work, as in most others, 
 his plans and designs far outstripped his actual accomplish- 
 ments. His philosophy is a magnificent torso, and here 
 are some of the fragments of the unfinished parts. 
 
 Doubtless many more of the notes than those included 
 in the foregoing list were intended for and probably used 
 in his prose writings : such as the terms of expression 
 272 — 236 ; and 1370 —1383, and a few others. This would 
 add 70 or 80 more to the 395 already pointed out. So that 
 one may make a rough estimate — the onl}^ kind of calcula- 
 tion possible — of 500 as the number of notes that might 
 have been used in such compositions as are usually associ- 
 ated with Bacon's name, i.e., rather less than one third of 
 the entire collection. 
 
 But it is quite certain that many of these notes not only 
 were never used in Bacon's literary and philosophical 
 writings, but they were not intended to be so used, they 
 never could have been so used, they must have been col- 
 lected for a different purpose, and what that purpose was 
 it would be interesting to find out. It is also clear that a 
 large number of these notes correspond to passages in 
 Shakespeare, and a still larger number may so correspond 
 — as germ to plant — and are exactly such notes as the poet 
 of Shakespeare might have made. Now, if there are any 
 reasons for raising the question of the authorship of 
 Shakespeare, such reasons must certainly become far more 
 pressing when we find that the character of so large a 
 number of Promiis notes forces us to the conclusion that 
 Bacon made a collection such as the author of Shakespeare 
 might have used. It does not of course immediately 
 follow as an irresistible conclusion that the Shakespeare 
 notes are connected with the poems in exactly the same 
 way as other notes are related to the prose. These notes 
 need not be thus explained. But if they arc not so ex- 
 plained they are absolutely unaccountable — they are
 
 202 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 enigmas, puzzles, anomalies which we must be content to 
 accept as inscrutable mysteries. If Bacon wrote Shake- 
 speare the Promus is intelligible— if he did not, it is an 
 insoluble riddle. 
 
 The Promus, therefore, if it does not prove, makes it 
 antecedently probable, that Bacon was during some part 
 of his life occupied with other literary work than that 
 which is usually attributed to him. He had some use, for 
 instance, for such disjecta membra of uncreated dramatic 
 compositions as the following scraps of dialogue and 
 repartee : — 
 
 195. What do you conclude upon that ? 
 
 197. Repeat your reason. 
 
 198. Hear me out. You never were in. 
 
 199. You judge before you understand. I judge as I 
 understand. 
 
 200. You go from the matter. But it was to follow you. 
 
 201. Come to the point. Why, I shall not find you 
 there. 
 
 204. You take more than is granted. You grant less 
 than is proved. 
 
 208. Answer directly. You mean as you would direct 
 me. 
 
 209. Answer me shortly. Yes : that you may comment 
 upon it. 
 
 Now I grant that it is not easy to connect these frag- 
 ments of talk with passages from Shakespeare. And yet 
 one may safely affirm that these little dramatic hints are 
 typically Shakespearean. Plenty of specimens of the same 
 kind can be easily produced from the plays. There is 
 much of this kind of repartee in As Yoii, Like It and in 
 Much Ado : ex. gr. : — 
 
 Colin. — Besides, our hands are hard. 
 
 ToHchsionc. — Your lips will feel them then the sooner. 
 
 {As Yoit Like It III. ii.6o). 
 
 CcUa. — I pray you bear with me.
 
 GLIMPSES INTO BACON S PORTFOLIO. 203 
 
 Rosaliini.—l had rather bear with you than bear you. 
 
 (II. iv.9). 
 
 Orlando. — For ever and a da}'. 
 Rosalind. — Say a day without the ever. 
 
 (IV. i. 145). 
 
 Ben. — Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. 
 Beat. — I took no more pains for those thanks than you take 
 pains to thank me 
 
 (Much Ado II. iii. 258). 
 
 Some of these notes sound like echoes from the law- 
 courts. But all the same they lend colour to the notion 
 that Bacon was a writer of Dramas. And when we find 
 other passages in which the Shakespearean affinity is quite 
 unmistakable, we cannot dismiss the question of Shake- 
 spearean authorship as an impertinence, or a crank which 
 no sober critic will entertain. For here the question is 
 started, and placed on a distinctly historic and documen- 
 tary basis. In this respect it takes its place side by side 
 with the Northumberland MS., which shews us that the 
 MSS. of two of Shakespeare's Plays, Richard II. and 
 Richard III., were at one time in Bacon's portfolio, and 
 are catalogued among his owm compositions : — the only 
 place in the world which can be thus described. It proves 
 also that Shakespeare's Lucrcce as it might have existed 
 in an early and unfinished draft, was known to Bacon's 
 amanuensis. For the line that is scribbled on this tell- 
 tale title page is 
 
 ReveaUng day through every crann}^ peeps. 
 
 But peeps is not the word — it is spies. Peeps would have 
 been a better word for this line, but the exigency of rhyme 
 excluded it, and peeping comes in subsequentl}' in the 
 same stanza (see Liicrece 1086 — lOgo). 
 
 It seems to me that if any considerable number — say 50 
 — of the Pronins notes can be clearly connected with 
 passages in Shakespeare, we have some reason for thinking 
 that others may be the unrecognizable germs of other
 
 204 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 passages ; and that small resemblances may have a large 
 significance. We need not clutch at these as arguments 
 too eagerly: but on the other hand we will not refuse them 
 as non-significant because the resemblance between them 
 and Shakespeare is faint. As an illustration I may take 
 the following :— There are several notes referring to lodging 
 and the neighbours it introduces. Such as : 158. I do not 
 only dwell far from neighbours, but near ill neighbours. 
 1203. Qui a bon voisin a bon matin. Lodged next. 
 1223. You could not sleep for your ill lodging. 1233. I 
 wish you may so weU sleep as you may not find your ill 
 lodging. And 1479 is a repetition of 1203. 
 
 Surely that is not a very extravagant comparison which 
 brings these notes into relation with such passages as the 
 following : — 
 
 Our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers. 
 
 {Hcniy V. IV. i. 6). 
 
 The Scot hath been still a giddy neighbour to us. 
 
 (lb. I. ii. 145, 154). 
 
 Young son, it argues a distemper'd head 
 So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. 
 Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, 
 And where care lodges sleep will never lie. 
 
 (Romeo and y-'iilict II. iii. 33). 
 
 If these passages are related as seed to fruit it is very 
 interesting to see how the poet worked ; and when we 
 come across a group of nearly 50 consecutive notes, nearly 
 every one of which calls up some passage in one play — as 
 in the notes from 1189 to 1233, the interest is not lost, it is 
 really increased if the resemblance is faint and indistinct. 
 So that a critic who fixes on one detached note and ridi- 
 cules its application to some passage because the re- 
 semblance is not very exact or striking, misses the 
 significance of the collection, and is not merely hyper- 
 critical, but dense. He might as reasonably deny the 
 relation of a callow nestling to the parent bird, because it 
 has few and fioculent feathers and feeble wings.
 
 HIGHLY SIGNIFICANT MEMORANDA. 205 
 
 The following may be taken as specimens in which the 
 resemblance between seedling and plant is quite clear : — 
 
 A'os. 53 & 998. Conscieiitia millc testes. 
 
 My conscience hath a thousand several tongues. 
 
 {Richard III. V. iii. 193). 
 
 Every man's conscience is a thousand swords : to fight &c. 
 
 {lb. V. ii. 17). 
 No. 106. A fool's bolt is soon shot. 
 You are better at proverbs, by how much, A fool's bolt is soon 
 shot. {Henry V. III. vii. 131). 
 
 Duke. — By my faith he is very swift and sententious : — ■ 
 
 Touchstone. — According to the fool's bolt, sir. 
 
 (As You Like It V. iv. 65). 
 
 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, 
 Which the brain makes of fumes. 
 
 {CymbeUne IV. ii. 300). 
 
 In these passages we see how the suggestion of the proverb 
 expands itself into moral and philosophical sentiments. 
 
 No. 493, — God sendeth foitune to fools. 
 
 " Good morrow, fool," quoth I : " Xo, sir," quoth he ; 
 " Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune." 
 
 {As You Like It II. vii. 18) 
 
 No. 639. — The cat -d'ould eat fish, but she icill not icet her foot. 
 
 Letting / dare not wait upon / would, 
 
 Like the poor cat i' the adage. 
 
 {Mac. I. vii. 44). 
 
 No. 648. — For the nwonsliine in the icater. 
 
 O, vain petitioner ! beg a greater matter ; 
 
 Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. 
 
 {Love's L. L. V. it. 207). 
 
 Never gazed the moon 
 
 Upon the water, as he'll stand and read 
 
 As 'twere my daughter's eyes. 
 
 (117/7. Talc IV. iv. 172J. 
 
 (Her eyes) which througli the crystal tears give light, 
 
 Shone like the moon in water seen by night. 
 
 {Vcn. /i.491).
 
 206 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 No. 806 — Adonis Gardens : {Tilings of great pleasure, but soon fading). 
 
 Thy promises are like Adonis gardens, 
 
 That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next. 
 
 {i Hen.VI.l.\'\.6). 
 
 He took [all the learnings of his time] 
 
 As we do air, fast as 'twas ministered. 
 
 An' in's spring became a harvest. {Cyinb. I. i. 44). 
 
 Spring come to you at the farthest 
 
 In the very end of harvest. {Tent. IV. i. 114). 
 
 Bacon uses the same fancy in the Hermit's Speech in the 
 Conference of Pleasure : — " The gardens of love, wherein 
 he now playeth himself, are fresh to-day and fading to- 
 morrow." ("Life" I. 379). 
 
 No. 889. — Clavuni Clavo pellcre. 
 
 Even as one heat another heat expels, 
 
 Or as one nail by strength drives out another. 
 
 So the remembrance of my former love 
 
 Is by a newer object quite forgotten. 
 
 {T-d'o Gen. of Ver. II. iv. 192). 
 
 One fire drives out one fire : one nail, one nail ; 
 Rights by rights falter ; strengths by strengths do fail, 
 
 {Cor. IV. vii. 54). 
 
 As fire drives out fire, so pity, pity. 
 
 (J»/. Ca's. II. i. 171). 
 
 This last quotation, when compared with the others, 
 shows how the hint of the Promus note may be used, while 
 its language is altered. 
 
 No. 972. — Alivays let losers have their 'ii'ords. 
 
 Then give me leave, for losers will have leave 
 To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. 
 
 {Tit.A.m.\.22,3). 
 
 I can give the loser leave to chide. 
 
 {2 Hen. VI. III. i. 182). 
 
 No. 1 1 15. — An neseis longas regibiis esse mantis f {Ovid). 
 This figure of speech is to be found two or three times
 
 LONG ARMS. 207 
 
 in Bacon's prose, and several times in Shakespeare. In 
 the Sanquhar trial Bacon said: — "Then did his Majesty 
 stretch forth his long arms (for kings have long arms when 
 they will extend them), one of them to the sea, where he 
 took hold of Grey, shipped for Sweden ; the other arm to 
 Scotland, and took hold of Carlisle." {" Life " IV. 293). 
 And again in the trial of Somerset for Overbury's murder. 
 " Alas, Overbury had no such long hand as to reach from 
 the other side of the sea to England, to forbid your banns 
 or cross your love." (" Life " V. 332). 
 
 Bishop Wordsworth quotes a similar Greek proverb : — 
 jxaKpal Tvpdvvwv x^V^?. The Shakespeare passages in which 
 this figure is used are the following : — 
 
 Is not my arm of length 
 That reacheth from the restful Enghsh Court 
 As far as Calais, to mine Uncle's head ? 
 
 {Kidi. II. IV. i. 11). 
 
 Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold \_i.c. the crown]. 
 What, is't too short ? I'll lengthen it with mine, etc. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. I. ii. ii). 
 
 Dogged York, that reaches at the moon. 
 Whose overweening arm I have plucked back. 
 
 (//'. Ill.i. 158). 
 
 Great men have reaching hands : oft have I struck 
 Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. 
 
 {lb. IV. vii. 87). 
 
 His sword 
 
 Hath a sliarp edge ; it's long, and 't may be said 
 
 It reaches far. 
 
 [Hen. VIII. Li. 109). 
 
 They have seemed to be together though absent ; shook hands, 
 
 as over a vast. 
 And embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. 
 
 (IF. r.r/.-I.i. 31). 
 
 Have I in conquest stretched mine arm so far, 
 To be afear'd to tell grey beards the truth ? 
 
 (:////. Cas. II. ii. 66 j.
 
 208 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 His legs bestrid the ocean ; his reared arm 
 
 Crested the world. 
 
 (Anl. ciiul Clco. V. ii. 82). 
 
 And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch, 
 Whose arm is far too short to hit me here. 
 
 [Pciic. I. ii. 7). 
 
 I will now give some illustrations of the mode in which 
 the Promus notes may illustrate the growth and develop- 
 ment of ideas, both in the prose and the poetry. 
 
 I. — The Procus. 
 
 The 70th Promus note is as follows : — Ttirpe est proco 
 anciUam sollicitare ; est autein virtutis ancilla laus. It is 
 base — [or detestable'] for a suitor to woo, [or solicit, — or give 
 his heart to] his lady's handmaiden : but praise is virtue's 
 handmaiden. 
 
 This moral aphorism is used two or three times by 
 Bacon. In his letter of advice to Rutland he thus intro- 
 duces it, — " We should both seek and love virtue for itself, 
 and not for praise : for as one said, Turpe est''' &c. (" Life" 
 
 II. 15). 
 
 The best illustration of this aphorism is to be found in 
 the opening sentences of Bacon's Apology. He begins 
 by a justification of the apology itself. Addressing the 
 Earl of Devonshire he writes : — " It may please your good 
 Lordship, I cannot be ignorant and ought to be sensible, 
 of the wrong which I sustain in common speech, as if I 
 had been false or unthankful to that noble, but unfortunate 
 Earl, the Earl of Essex. And for satisfying the vulgar 
 sort, I do no so much regard it ; though I love good name, 
 but yet as an handmaid and attendant of honesty and 
 virtue. For I am of his opinion that said pleasantly, — 
 TJiat it was a shame to him that was a suitor to the mistress to 
 make love to the waiting-woman ; — and therefore to love or 
 court common fame otherwise than it followeth upon 
 honest courses, I, for my part, do not find myself fit or 
 disposed." (" Life " III. 141). The parable is plain: his first
 
 CONFLICTING MOTIVES. 2O9 
 
 allegiance is due to virtue ; to honest courses. Praise, or 
 fame, or good name and fair repute, is sweet, — he would 
 fain have her smiles also ; but praise is a handmaid waiting 
 upon virtue, whose favours and smiles must be given for 
 her mistress's sake, for no other reason. I will not woo 
 praise as a lover, — for its own sake : but I will be thankful 
 for the friendly glances she bestows on her mistress's 
 suitor. The latter motto has not, so far as I know, been 
 traced to any classic source, and it is only known in 
 Bacon's writings. Perhaps he was himself the pleasant 
 writer whom he quotes, just as Macaulay used to make an 
 unknown "judicious poet " the sponsor of his own fancies. 
 It may, perhaps, be traced to some of the immediate 
 followers of Socrates. For Bacon has an Apophthegm 
 (i8g) which seems to bring the aphorism into close re- 
 lationship with Aristippus : " Aristippus said, That those 
 that studied particular sciences and neglected philosophy 
 were like Pentelope's wooers, that made love to the 
 waiting women." (Works VII. 151). 
 
 Now there can be no doubt that Bacon's Procus and 
 Bacon's Ancilla are both secreted in a passage of Love's 
 Labour's Lost. The Princess of France is invited by the 
 King of Navarre to a deer-hunt in his park, and is posted 
 with bow and arrows on the edge of a coppice where she 
 may most conveniently aim at the deer as they pass. The 
 gentle lady shrinks from the cruelty of the sport, and yet 
 wishes to win credit by shooting skilfull}'. She is per- 
 plexed by these conflicting motives. Mercy tells her not 
 to aim straight, for the deed accomplished by a good shot 
 is an ill deed, So she plays in a sort of logical fence with 
 the situation, and tries to find out how she may save her 
 credit whether she kills or not. If she misses she will get 
 credit for pity ; if she hits she will be praised for skill. She 
 takes the bow from the Forester saying, — 
 
 But come — the bow : — now mercy goes to kill 
 And shooting well is then accounted ill.
 
 210 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 TIiiis^' will I save my credit in the shoot: 
 Not wounding, — pity, would not let me do it : 
 If wounding, — then it was to show my skill, 
 That more for praise than purpose mean't to kill. 
 
 And now follows Bacon's aphorism, the outcome of all 
 this sophistication : — 
 
 And out of question, so it is sometimes. 
 
 Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, 
 
 When for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, 
 
 We bend to that the working of the heart : — 
 
 As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill 
 
 The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. 
 
 (See the whole passage — L. L. L. IV. i. 9 — 35). 
 
 I can almost fancy that the next Promus note, No. 71, 
 may have some relation to this passage, for it claims 
 pardon for humanity whatever mistakes it may make — if it 
 shoots badly, yet it has its own independent merit. The 
 note is — Si suuni cinque trihuendnm est, ccrte et venia 
 liunianitati. If every one is entitled to its own, certainly 
 humanity may claim indulgence (The moiio Suum cinque 
 is quoted in Titus An. I. i. 280). 
 
 That the Latin aphorism, which seems to have been 
 Bacon's private property, is really lying perdu in these 
 lines can scarcely be disputed. Glory : is the Procus, who 
 is hunting after Vain-glory : his name is Gloriosus ; the 
 object of his lawless love is ostentation or vulgar fame. 
 And in Bacon's Antitheta on Vain Glory he appears side 
 by side with the Procus. For the first of the three 
 aphorisms on the Contra side is, — Gloriosi semper factiosi, 
 niendaces, mobiles, nimii — The gloriosi are always factious, 
 liars, inconstant, extreme. Then follows as a second 
 aphorism Thraso Gnathonis prceda ; the thrasonical person 
 is a prey to Gnatho — the boaster is cozened by the parasite; 
 
 *This formula of Casuistry, — Tlitis will I reason, — is found in tlie 
 Sonnets : — 
 
 Thus can my love excuse, &c. — Son. 51. 
 Thus I will excuse ye. — Son. 42.
 
 PKOCUS SECRETED IN SHAKESPEARE. 211 
 
 (alluding to characters in the Eunuchus of Terence). 
 [It is as well to note that the word thrasonical occurs twice 
 in Shakespeare — in Love's Labotir's Lost SLXid As You Like It. 
 It is also used by Bacon in his description of Overbury, 
 poisoned by Lady Somerset : " Overbury was, of an in- 
 solent, Thrasonical disposition." "Life" V. 312]. And 
 the last of the three aphorisms is our new acquaintance the 
 Procus ; the same, therefore, as Gloriosus, The other 
 terms of the Latin aphorism are freely translated in the 
 poetry. Turpe est is represented by "guilty of detested 
 crimes." The /1;jcz7/« is praise, the handmaiden being "an 
 outward part." The crime, anciUam sollicitare, is "bend- 
 ing the working of the heart " to the outward part, — 
 fame, or praise — Laus is the attendant in both cases. 
 The lines themselves are rather scholastic and dry in 
 their tone, and the reason is plain — they represent a 
 fanciful but somewhat subtle philosophical axiom ; when 
 the connection is apprehended the verse at once becomes 
 luminous, and starts into poetical beauty. The lines are 
 Baconian throughout, in expression and thought. Out of 
 .question is a variation of Bacon's constantly recurring, 
 Certainly, or It is certain, which is familiar to all readers 
 of the Essays. This special variation Out of question, or 
 There is no question, or Out of all question, is found in 
 Essays 19, 29, 58 : in Apophthegm 39, and in Syl. Syl. 
 915. This same Promus note may be traced also in the 
 •couplet to the 84th Sonnet : — 
 
 You to your beauteous blessing add a curse 
 
 Being fond on praise, which makes 3'our praises worse. 
 
 The whole Sonnet refers to the "rich praise" which his 
 subject can inspire in any poet who makes his qualities the 
 theme of his verse. The curious expression fond on praise, 
 cannot be well understood without Bacon's help, and thus 
 mterpreted the couplet gains new interest and its interior 
 meaning is ascertained. Fond on praise is the lawless love 
 •of the Procus who pays too much attention to the Ancilla,
 
 212 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 This is a specimen of the sort of comment on Shake- 
 speare which might be indefinitely increased if the critics 
 were wise enough to bring Bacon's prose to throw light on 
 Shakespeare's poetry. 
 
 2, — Hail of Pearl. 
 
 Prontus Note 872 is Haile of perle. 
 
 When we find in Shakespeare this singular fancy, we 
 must admit that there is some vital nexus between Shake- 
 speare and the Prouins. Cleopatra is wildly eager to know 
 what news Anthony's messenger has brought, and yet will 
 only listen to favourable reports : — 
 
 If thou dost say Anthony lives, is well. 
 
 Or friends with Ciesar, or not captive to him, 
 
 I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and liail 
 
 Rich pearls upon thee. 
 
 (Ant. C/. II. V. 43). 
 
 The resemblance between pearls and hailstones is used in 
 Bacon's " Device," In the reply of the Squire to the 
 corrupt statesman we find the following : — " But give ear 
 now to the comparison of my master's condition, and 
 acknowledge such a difference as is betwixt the melting 
 hailstone and the solid pearl." (" Life " I. 384.) 
 See the growth of the fancy in three stages : — 
 
 1. In Bacon's " Device" the hailstone and the pearl are 
 contrasted ; their outward resemblance gives point to the 
 contrast between the melting, evanescent condition of the 
 one, and the fixed, enduring state of the other. 
 
 2. The Promus note seizes on the resemblance and 
 puts aside the contrast, and imagines a shower in which 
 the hailstones are not melting but lasting, — a shower of 
 pearls. 
 
 3. The lines from Antony and Cleopatra adopt the 
 idea first expressed in the " Device," and subsequently 
 developed in the Promus, and apply the fancy to the 
 rich gifts showered by a princess upon a messenger who
 
 ULYSSES SLY IN SPEECH AND ACT. 213 
 
 earns her thanks by bringing good news of her lover. The 
 two earlier points of view are united. 
 
 The development of this fancy is surely highly interesting. 
 
 3. — Ulysses, 
 
 The Pronms note 463 is Nee fandi fictor Ulysses — 
 Ulysses sly in speech. The words are taken from Virgil's 
 ^neid, IX. 602, and this is an echo of Homer's cTrtKAoTros 
 ixv6(jiv, (Iliad xxii. 281), thievish or wily and cunning in 
 speech. Bacon thus notes that slyness is the mark and 
 characteristic of Ulysses, and registers the fact for literary 
 use. In Bacon's prose works this quality is not referred 
 to, Ulysses is two or three times mentioned as the man 
 ^^ qui vctulam prcBtulit immorialiiati, being a figure of those 
 which prefer custom and habit before all excellency." 
 (See "Adv. ofL." Works 319, and Essay 8, on "Mar- 
 riage.") But of his slyness no mention is made. He is 
 also referred to in the "Wisdom of the Ancients;" 
 defeating the Sirens by stuffing the ears of his crew with 
 wax, while he himself, with unstopped ears, was tied to the 
 mast. (Works VI. 684, 762.) Perhaps this may be taken 
 as an instance of crafty behaviour, though not of cunning 
 speech. But if the note of slyness is absent in the prose it 
 is present in the poetry. In Shakespeare, Ulysses is never 
 casually mentioned without reference to his slyness, and 
 when he appears himself on the stage his counsel is marked 
 by that subtlety or astuteness which the Pronms indicates. 
 In Lucrece his portrait is studied : 
 
 But the mild glance which sly Ul3^sses lent 
 Shewed deep regard and smiling government 
 
 Luc. 1399. 
 
 Smiling often seems to be in Shakespeare a note or 
 expedient of slyness. Hamlet makes an entry in his note 
 book, about the smiling damned villain — "that one may 
 smile, and smile and be a villain." Richard III. can 
 "Smile and murder when he smiles ; " he can "speak fair
 
 214 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 and smile in men's faces," while he is plotting mischief 
 against them. Donaldbain in Macbeth says, "There's 
 daggers in men's smiles ; " and Richard II. speaks of his 
 rival and supplanter Bolingbroke as " Wooing poor 
 craftsmen with the craft of smiles." In these and other 
 passages which might be referred to we can see how in 
 Shakespeare's mind smiling and slyness are associated. 
 Some such idea may have been working in Bacon's mind 
 when he entered into his Promus the note (501), " Better 
 is the last smile than the first laughter." At any rate it 
 suggests that he had to some extent studied the significance 
 of smiles. 
 
 Of all Shakespeare's characters Richard III. is the most 
 crafty and designing and perfidious. Slyness may well be 
 attributed to him. So it is, but Ulysses is the type to 
 which slyness is referred. 
 
 I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, 
 Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could. 
 
 3 Hen. VI. III. ii. 188. 
 
 Some of the speeches of Ulysses in Troilus and Crcssida are 
 of surpassing wisdom and depth ; — slyness is too vulgar 
 and grovelling an attribute to be connected with them. 
 Yet even here a subtlety of contrivance is shown, which 
 on a lower level of action might pass for slyness. In order 
 to chastise the pride of Achilles, he wishes that Hector's 
 challenge, which is really levelled at Achilles, should be 
 accepted by some inferior champion, so that the reputation 
 of Achilles may dwindle by the invidious comparison. 
 This, surely, is slyness in cxcdsis — the very apotheosis of 
 the quality : indeed, Ulysses himself compares his counsel 
 to a tradesman's trick, and calls his slyness a "device." 
 
 'Tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. 
 
 Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares, 
 
 And think perchance they'll sell ; if not, 
 
 The lustre of the better, yet to show, 
 
 Shall show the better. . . . No, make a lottery,
 
 USAGE OF THE WORD SLEIGHT. 215 
 
 And b\' device let blockish Ajax draw 
 
 The sort to fight with Hector : among ourselves 
 
 Give him allowance for the better man, 
 
 Hit or miss. 
 Our project's life this shape of sense assumes 
 Ajax, emplo3'ed, plucks down Achilles' plumes. 
 
 {Tro. Crcs. I. iii. 358-386). 
 
 If such counsel as this were irreverently criticized, it 
 would be called sly : and accordingly, Thersites, the type 
 of irreverence and scorn, speaks of Ulysses as " that dog- 
 fox." {lb. V. iv. 12). 
 
 To show how the note of slyness attaches to Ulysses by 
 a sort of necessity, we may observe the terms in which he 
 is referred to by Warwick, who has a design on foot to 
 surprise and seize the young King Edward : — 
 
 Our scouts have found the adventure very easy : 
 
 That as Ulysses and great Diomede 
 
 With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents, 
 
 And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, 
 
 So we, etc. 
 
 (3 Hai. 17. IV. ii. 18). 
 
 Observe that sleight is connected with Ulysses, and man- 
 hood with Diomede. Sleight, so spelt, evidently means 
 slyness; this is its proper meaning — a one-syllable variation 
 of slyness was wanted, and here it is. The word, so spelt, 
 occurs nowhere else in "Shakespeare." But the same 
 word is used in Macbeth, spelt slight. The meaning, how- 
 ever, requires the diphthong. The witch, Hecate, is 
 speaking, and describes her deceptive arts : — 
 
 Upon the corner of the moon 
 
 There hangs a vaporous drop profound : 
 
 I'll catch it ere it come to ground, 
 
 And that, distill'd by magic slights, 
 
 Shall raise such artificial sprites. 
 
 As by the strength of their illusion 
 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion. 
 
 {Macb. III. V. 23). 
 
 Doubtless this should be spelt sleights. But as Ulysses was
 
 2l6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 not in evidence, the poet had nothing to keep him on the 
 alert to maintain by accurate spelling the correlation of 
 the word with slyness. This motive secured the proper 
 spelling in 3 Hen. VI. 
 
 Philologists say that sleigh is the old form of sl3^ Bacon 
 uses the word sleight in the Squire's speech in the Device : — 
 *' Jugglers are no longer in request when their tricks and 
 sleights are once perceived." (" Life " I. 384). 
 
 It is plain then that Shakespeare's references to Ulysses 
 show that he had probably made a private note in his 
 collection of hints for invention to this effect: " N.B. — 
 Ulysses must always be sly." The Promus gives us the note 
 in question. 
 
 Marlowe evidently shared the opinion of Bacon and 
 Shakespeare about Ulysses. Thus in Dido : — 
 
 See how the night, Ulysses-hke, comes forth, 
 
 And intercepts the day as Dolon Erst. 
 
 {Dido I . i. 70). 
 
 Dolon was a spy of the Trojans, slain by Diomede. And 
 again in the same play, Sinon is the tool of Ulysses. 
 
 Ulysses on the sand, 
 Assayed with honeyed words to turn them back . . . 
 And therewithal! he called false Sinon forth— 
 A man, compact of craft and perjury, 
 
 Whose 'ticing tongue was made of Hermes' pipe . . . and him 
 Ulysses sent to our unhapp}' town. {lb. II. i. 136-147). 
 
 4. — Voluntary Forgetting. 
 
 Forgetting, not spontaneously or unavoidably, — but 
 artificially and voluntarily, — is referred to in some Promus 
 notes. It is twice repeated. 
 
 Note 403. ii6S.~Aii of forgLUniii. 
 114 and 1232. — WcU to forgcl. 
 
 Artificial forgetfulness is not, I believe, referred to in 
 the prose works : nor is it likely to appear except in
 
 FORGETTING ONE S SELF. 217 
 
 " Works of Invention," but it is frequent in " Shakespeare." 
 For example : — 
 
 Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must 
 not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. 
 
 (.4s You Like II I. ii. 5). 
 
 Bcnvolio. — Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. 
 
 Romeo. — O teach me how I should forget to think , . . 
 He that is strucken blind cannot forget 
 The precious treasure of his eyesight lost . . . 
 Farewell, thou can'st not teach me to forget. 
 
 {Rom. Jul. I. i. 232). 
 
 Note 1,232 is among the set evidently collected for use 
 in the composition of Romeo and Juliet, and a lively picture 
 of the art of forgetting is given in one passage. 
 
 Juliet. — I have forgot why I did call thee back. 
 
 Romeo. — Let me stand here till thou remember it. 
 
 Juliet. — I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, 
 Remembering how I love thy company. 
 
 Romeo. — And I'll still stay to have thee still forget, 
 Forgetting any other home but this. 
 
 [lb. II. ii. 171). 
 
 The same conceit is found elsewhere. 
 
 I will forget that Julia is alive. 
 Remembering that my love to her is dead. 
 
 (Two Gent. Vcr. II. vi. 27). 
 
 Shall I forget myself to be mj-self ? 
 
 Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself. 
 
 {Rich. III. IV. iv. 420). 
 
 And in Marlowe we find, in a very Shakespearean passage: 
 
 Come death, and with thy fingers close my ej'cs, 
 Or if I live, let me forget myself. 
 
 {Edisi'ard II. V. i. no). 
 
 The same sentiment, but more disguised, is in the follow- 
 ing:— 
 
 I am not mad: I would to heaven I were,
 
 2r8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 For tlieu 'tis like I should forget myself. 
 O if I could, what grief should I forget ! 
 Preach some philosophy to make me mad, 
 And thou shalt be canonized. Cardinal. 
 
 Cjolin III. iv. 48). 
 
 It is clear that voluntary oblivion is equally familiar to the 
 note-maker who compiled the Proinus, and to Shakespeare. 
 
 5. — Like One's Self. 
 
 The maxim that every one should study consistency in 
 his acts and words is one that might be as commonplace 
 with any writer. But when this maxim is invariably 
 expressed as the duty of being like one's self, the sentiment 
 ceases to be commonplace — it is a mark of individualit}'. 
 The Promus gives us (1,142) the motto on which this canon 
 of behaviour is based : Nil nialo quain illos similes esse sni 
 et me niei. I wish for nothing more than that they should 
 be like themselves, while I am like myself. 
 
 This was Bacon's motto from his earliest life. In the 
 well-known letter to Lady Burghley, dated Sept. 16, 1580, 
 he excuses himself for deficient familiarity with the " cere- 
 monies of Court," and adds, " My thankful and service- 
 able mind shall be always like itself, however it vary from 
 the common disguising " (" Life," I. 12). In the year 1589 
 the same is repeated. In church controversies it is to be re- 
 membered that " a fool was to be answered, but not by be- 
 coming like him," — "these things will not excuse the 
 imitation of evil in another. It should be contrariwise with 
 us, as Caesar said, Nil Malo," &c. (lb. jj). 
 
 In dealing with the Parliament, Bacon repeatedly urges 
 the King not to "descend to any means, or degree of 
 means, which " carrieth not a symmetry with 3'our majesty 
 and greatness." "I am still of opinion that above all 
 things your Majesty should not descend below yourself." 
 
 ("Life,"IV. 313, 369). 
 
 In the charge against Owen, Bacon enumerates various 
 offences which might have provoked the King — " he hath
 
 _, ) 
 
 REMEMBERING ONE S SELF. 2I9 
 
 been irritated. . . . And yet I see his Majesty keepeth 
 Caesar's rule — Nil Malo, &c. ; he leaveth them to be like 
 themselves, and he remaineth like himself, and striveth to 
 overcome evil with goodness." (Life," 155, 162). 
 
 To show how the same sentiment, similarly expressed, is 
 familiar to Shakespeare, the following passages will suffice, 
 without further comment :— 
 
 now you look like Hubert ! all this while 
 You were disguised. 
 
 {John IV. i. 126). 
 
 The King is not himself, but basely led 
 
 By flatterers. 
 
 {Rich. II. II. i. 241). 
 
 See, see, King Richard doth himself appear . . . 
 
 Yet looks he like a King. 
 
 {lb. III. iii. 62, 68). 
 
 1 shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord, 
 Be more myself. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. III. ii. 92). 
 
 Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, 
 Assume the port of Mars. 
 
 {Hen. v. I., Prol. 5). 
 
 Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. III. iii. 15). 
 
 A}^ now my sovereign speaketh like himself. 
 
 {Ih. IV. vii. 67). 
 
 But he fell to himself again, and sweetly 
 
 In all the rest show'd a most noble patience. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. II. i. 35). 
 
 I do profess 
 
 You speak not like yourself. 
 
 {lb. II. iv. 84). 
 
 While I remain above the ground, you shall 
 Hear from me still, and never of me aught 
 But what is like me formerly. 
 
 {Coriol. IV. i. 51). 
 
 Always I am Ciesar. 
 
 {Jul. Cccsar I. ii. 212).
 
 220 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 I'll seem the fool I am not: Antony- 
 Will be himself. 
 
 {Aiif. CI. I. i. 42). 
 
 Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony 
 He comes too short of that ^^reat property 
 Wliich still should go with Antony. 
 
 {lb. I. i. 56). 
 
 I shall entreat him 
 
 To answer like himself. 
 
 {lb. II. ii. 3). 
 
 Had our general 
 Been what he knew himself, it had gone well. 
 
 (lb. III. X. 26). 
 
 To thine own self be true. 
 
 {Hcwi. I. iii. 78). 
 
 Make me but like my thoughts. 
 
 {All's Well III. iii. ro). 
 
 These specimens of the hints for Shakespearean comment 
 to be derived from the Promus may suffice. The full 
 significance of this singular note-book has not been yet 
 brought to light; it contains ample material for students 
 of Shakespeare and Bacon yet to work upon. There are 
 man}' turns of expression which seem so commonplace 
 that it is difficult to understand why they were inserted. 
 And yet even in these we may sometimess hit upon phrases 
 extremely characteristic of the philosopher and the poet. 
 For instance, the Note 292 — Few words needed — seems a 
 very useless memorandum. But it represents a mode of 
 speech singularly frequent in Bacon and Shakespeare. 
 Bacon, in one of his speeches addressed to the King, begins 
 his closing paragraph with, " It remaineth only that I use 
 a few words, the rather to move your Majesty in this 
 cause: a few words I say — a very few." ("Life," III. 186). 
 In another speech, promising brevity, he says: " I will 
 apply some admonitions, not vulgar or discursive, but apt 
 for the times, and in few words, for they are best remem- 
 bered." ("Life," VI. 203). In Shakespeare we have,
 
 TURNS OF EXPRESSION. 221 
 
 " Few words suffice" {Taiii. Shrew I. ii. 66). " In a few " 
 occurs more than once (extract from Tavt. Sh. I, ii. 52). 
 " In a few words, but spacious in effect " {Timon III. v. 97. 
 Paiica verba — Mcr. Wives I. i. and Love's Labour's Lost 
 IV. ii.). 
 
 Pauca, simply, — Merry Wives, Henry V .^Paucas pallabrias. 
 Tarn. Sh. and Henry V. Fewness and truth. Measure for 
 Measiire I. v. 39. See also 3 Parnassus 1567. 
 
 I find that strange (302) is frequent in both groups of 
 writings. It is not current speech. 
 
 Of these turns of expression none is more curious 
 than What Else ? Nos. 307 and 1,400. For on looking 
 into the use of this little phrase in Shakespeare we 
 always find it means what a lively up-to-date youth would 
 express by Why certainly 1 or, Of course. An example or 
 two will make this clear. 
 
 Tranio. — Sir, this is the house, please it 3'ou that I call ? 
 Pedant. — Ay, what else ? 
 
 {Tain. Sli. IV. iv. i). 
 
 Men. — Shall's to the Capitol ? 
 
 Com. — O, ay, what else ? 
 
 {Cor. IV. vi. 147). 
 
 BoUngbrokc. — Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms ? 
 
 Hume. — Ay ; what else ? 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. I. iv, 5). 
 
 Wardi'ick. — And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful. 
 
 Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor, &c. 
 
 C/a/-.— What else ? 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. IV. vi. 56). 
 
 In one case it is expanded into What shall we do else ? 
 Twelfth Night I. iii. 146. And there are other illustrations. 
 What else? occurs in Marlowe's Edward H. the most 
 Shakespearean of the Marlowe plays, IV. vi. 117 ; V. iv. 
 23 ; V. 25, 32, and always with the same meaning. 
 
 The Proinus may not prove that Bacon wrote Shake- 
 speare, but it assuredly proves that he had literary designs 
 to which none of his acknowledged writings correspond :
 
 222 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 and it proves that there is no j^ood reason why we should 
 not search in EHzabethan dramatic Hterature for an 
 explanation of these designs ; it proves that the Shake- 
 spearean drama has as good a claim as any other to be 
 included in this quest ; and if no other work of invention 
 can put in a superior or equal claim, it distinctly opens the 
 question — Does not the Promus supply some positive 
 indications that Shakespeare is the key that unlocks this 
 enigma? Henceforth our quest is justified by documentary 
 evidence, and to dismiss it with contempt or by trans- 
 parently inconclusive or evasive arguments is both 
 impertineiiL and irrational, in either the classical or 
 vernacular sense of the word, im.pertinent.
 
 223 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ECHOES AND CORRESPONDENCIES. 
 
 Baconian echoes in Shakespeare are so abundant, that the 
 absence of any reference to them in the notes of annotated 
 plays is very remarkable. Shakespeare editors are, of 
 course, strongly opposed to the Baconian theory ; but that 
 is no reason for ignoring Bacon, and even from the Shake- 
 spearean point of view these comparisons are very 
 interesting and instructive ; in many cases they suppl}^ 
 valuable interpretation. The introduction of these notes 
 would doubtless lend some support to our argument, — but 
 surely that is no good reason for neglecting them. The 
 abundance of them may be indicated by the crudest 
 statistics of one collection. The first volume of Mr. 
 Donnelly's "Great Cryptogram," — in which the 
 cryptogram is not discussed, that being left to the second, 
 — is the most masterly and convincing statement of the 
 Baconian case ever published. It is a large royal octavo 
 book of 502 pages ; and, of these, 208 pages are devoted to 
 Parallelisms. There are nine chapters dealing with — i. 
 Identical Expressions. 2. Identical Metaphors. 3. 
 Identical Opinions. 4. Identical Quotations. 5. Identical 
 Studies. 6. Identical Errors. 7. Identical use of unusual 
 words. 8. Identities of Character, and g. Identities of 
 Style. To my mird the probative force of this enormous 
 collection is irresistible. The only wa}' of evading it is to 
 deny the argument derived from parallels altogether. But 
 this would be to inflict fatal damage on a large amount of 
 Shakespearean and other criticism which rests on the same 
 basis. For instance, Mr. Charles Knight uses exactly this
 
 224 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 kind of reasoning to prove that the play of i Henry VI. 
 was written by Shakespeare, and not by Marlowe or any 
 other writer. Nothing can be more convincing than this 
 elaborate argument. Those who are satisfied by it may 
 be challenged to define the difference between his 
 argument and ours. The usual plan is to break up the 
 argument into fragments, select one or two weak or 
 doubtful cases, — and smuggle in the assumption that the 
 whole case rests upon these, and is defeated by their over- 
 throw. Nothing can be more grossly unfair. The evidence 
 derived from parallels is cun:iulative, and in such an 
 argument even the strongest instance may be spared, and 
 yet the weakest may possess some value as one of the 
 gossamer threads which contribute to the construction of 
 a cable strong enough to resist the most violent efforts to 
 break it. The argument is not like a chain which is only 
 as strong as the weakest link : it is like a faggot, the mass 
 of which cannot be broken, though every single stick may 
 be brittle ; or like a rope, made by the accumulation of a 
 great number of slender fibres, which by themselves may 
 be easily torn, but in their combination can resist the 
 greatest force. I do not think the Calculus has yet been 
 invented that will enable us to cast the sum of an indefinite 
 series of small arguments. But it must be included in that 
 branch of Inductive Logic which deals with circumstantial 
 evidence, — and it is well known how the detective import 
 of such evidence may be constituted by a collection of 
 facts each of which singly would prove nothing, — yet each 
 of which lends some atom of force to the entire mass — 
 and the resultant conclusion may be as well sustained as if 
 it rested on direct documentary evidence : and perhaps 
 even better. For documents may be forged or fictitious, 
 and can generally be disputed, — this kind of circumstantial 
 evidence consists of incontrovertible and indestructible 
 facts. In the collection of parallels which I have to offer 
 I wish to present only such as appear to me strong — such 
 as in other cases are usually accepted as marks of
 
 DANGEROUS SUCCESS. 225 
 
 individuality in style or thought. It is however to be 
 remembered that any estimate of strength in such a case is 
 a matter of individual impression, and I must therefore 
 claim that those who criticize separate extracts should not 
 neglect the value belonging to the entire collection, — in- 
 cluding not only those now presented, but those already 
 published by other advocates of the Baconian theory. 
 Moreover, I have endeavoured to bring forward a consider- 
 able number of parallels which rest on a deeper basis than 
 verbal coincidence, and relate to the fixed and character- 
 istic ideas of the two groups of writings. Most of those 
 here given have not been previously published ; or only in 
 an incomplete way. Some however have appeared, and I 
 wish to make special acknowledgment to Mr. Donnelly for 
 the collection already alluded to ; and to Mrs, Pott for the 
 cases included in her annotations to the Promiis. I have 
 also reproduced some parallels which have been before 
 published in the Bacon Journal and Bacentana. Others 
 may have also appeared elsewhere, for in such a quest as 
 this the same discovery may be made over and over again. 
 
 I. In one of Bacon's letters to Essex, written in 1599, he 
 makes a very striking remark on the danger attending too 
 much success in public service : — 
 
 " Your lordship is designed to a service of great merit 
 and great peril ; and as the greatness of the peril must 
 needs include a like proportion of merit, so the greatness of 
 merit may include no small consequence of peril, if it be 
 not temperately governed. For all immoderate success 
 extinguish eth merit, and stirreth up distaste and envy, — the 
 assured forerunners of whole charges of peril." ("Life" 
 II. 129). 
 
 The same idea is most eloquently expressed more than 
 once in Shakespeare. Ventidius, a lieutenant of Antony's, 
 coming back in triumph after a victory, speaks : — 
 
 O Silius, Silius, 
 I have done enough : a lower place, note well, 
 May make too great an act ; for learn this, Silius, 
 
 Q
 
 226 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Better to leave undone, than by our deed 
 
 Acquire too high a fame, when him we serve's away. 
 
 Caesar and Antony have ever won 
 
 More in their oiftcer than person : Sossius, 
 
 One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, 
 
 For quick accumulation of renown, 
 
 Which he achieved by the minute, lost his favour. 
 
 Who does i' the wars more than his captain can, 
 
 Becomes his captain's captain : and ambition. 
 
 The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss 
 
 Than gain which darkens him. 
 
 I could do more to do Antonius good, 
 
 But 'twould offend him, and in his offence, 
 
 Sliould my performance perish. 
 
 {Ant. CI. III. i. II). 
 
 The same rule of action is recognised by Coriolanus, 
 whose " insolence can brook to be commanded under 
 Cominius." The explanation is, — 
 
 Fame, at wliicli he aims. 
 
 In whom already he's well graced, cannot 
 
 Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by 
 
 A place below the first ; for what miscarries 
 
 Shall be the general's fault, though he perform 
 
 To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure 
 
 Will then cry out of Marcius, " O, if he 
 
 Had borne the business !" 
 
 {Cor. I. i. 267). 
 
 Lewis Theobald very aptly quotes the following from 
 Quintus Curtius, as a possible derivation of this idea. It 
 refers to the relations between Antipater and Alexander 
 the Great. "Et quanquam Fortuna rerum placebat, 
 invidiam tamen, quia majores res erunt, quam quas 
 Prsefecti modus caperet, metuebat. Quippe Alexander 
 hostes vinci voluerat : Antipatrum vicisse ne tacitus 
 quidem indignabatur, su£e demptum glorise existimans, 
 quicquid cessisset alienas. Itaque Antipater, qui prope 
 nosset spiritus ejus, non est ausus ipse agere arbitria 
 victorias." ("Quintis Curtis" I. i.). It is not unlikely
 
 SMALL FAULTS IN GREAT PERSONS. 227 
 
 that the poet had this passage in his mind when he was 
 writing the drama of Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 2. The equivalent to the motto noblesse oblige appears in 
 Bacon's Dc Augmcntis as a commentary on the text in 
 Proverbs: — "As dead flies do cause the best ointment to 
 stink, so does a little folly him that is in reputation for 
 wisdom and honour." This is the homily derived from 
 the proverb : — 
 
 "It is a very hard and unhappy condition (as the 
 proverb well remarks) of men pre-eminent for virtue, that 
 their errors, be they never so trifling, are never excused. 
 But, as in the clearest diamond, every little cloud or speck 
 catches and displeases the eye, which in a less perfect 
 stone would hardly be discerned, so in men of remarkable 
 virtue the slighest faults are seen, talked of, and severely 
 censured, which in ordinary men would either be entirely 
 unobserved, or readily excused. Hence a little folly in a 
 very wise man, a very small offence in a very good man, a 
 slight impropriety in a man of polite and elegant manners, 
 detracts greatly from their character and reputation ; and 
 therefore, it would be no bad policy for eminent men to 
 mingle some harmless absurdities with their actions, so 
 that they may retain some liberty for themselves, and 
 make small defects less distinguishable." (Works V. 42). 
 
 Obviously, Bacon's own reputation has suffered from 
 this cause. The same subtle observation with meta- 
 phorical embellishments is repeated in reference to govern- 
 ment. It occurs in a speech addressed to the Judges, 
 1617 : — 
 
 " The best governments be always like the fairest 
 crystals, wherein every little icicle or grain is seen, which 
 in a fouler stone is never perceived." (" Life " VI. 213). 
 
 And again, " The best governments, yea, and the best 
 men, are like the most precious stones, wherein every flaw, 
 or icicle or grain are seen and noted more than in those 
 that are generally foul and corrupted." (Reply to Speaker, 
 J620. "Life" VII. 17S).
 
 228 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The sentiment of these passages is somewhat allied to 
 that hinted at in the Promus Note (89) : A stone without 
 foyle. Mrs. Pott's comments on this and cognate notes^ 
 and the Shakespearean passages cited in illustration, are 
 among the most valuable of her illustrations of the Promus, 
 
 It is important to remark how these singularly subtle 
 and, as thus expounded, original sentiments, are repro- 
 duced in Shakespeare. The impetuosity of the brave and 
 generous hearted Hotspur draws the following rebuke from 
 Mortimer : — 
 
 You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault : 
 
 Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood, — 
 
 And that's the dearest grace it renders vou, — 
 
 Yet oftentimes it doth present harsli rage, 
 
 Defect of manners, want of government, 
 
 Pride, haughtiness, opinion and disdain. 
 
 The least of which haunting a nobleman 
 
 Loseth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain 
 
 Upon the beauty of all parts besides. 
 
 Beguiling them of commendation. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. III. i. 180). 
 
 Still more accurately is Bacon's homily reflected in 
 Hamlet : — 
 
 So oft it chances in particular men, 
 
 That for some vicious mole of nature in them. 
 
 As, in their birth, — wherein they are not guilty, 
 
 Since Nature cannot choose his origin, — 
 
 By the o'ergrowth of some complexion 
 
 Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason ; 
 
 Or bv some habit that too much o'erleavens 
 
 The form of plausive manners ; that these men. 
 
 Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, 
 
 Seeing Nature's livery, or fortune's star. 
 
 Their virtues else, — be they as pure as grace. 
 
 As infinite as man may undergo, — 
 
 Shall in the general censure take corruption 
 
 From that particular fault ; this dram (? grain) of evil 
 
 Doth all the noble substance often dout. 
 
 To his own scandal. 
 
 {Ham. I. iv. 17).
 
 THE MAGNANIMOUS LION. 229 
 
 This passage is connected in a very interesting style, 
 with another passage in the "Advancement," by Colonel 
 Moore. See "Bacon Journal" I. 177. 
 
 3. In one of the Meditationes Sacrce, — on Charity, — 
 Bacon refers to the different degrees of charity : " The first 
 is to forgive our enemies when they repent : and of this 
 there is found even among the more generous kind of 
 wild beasts some shadow or image : for lions are said to be 
 no longer savage towards those who yield and prostrate 
 themselves." (Works VII. 245). 
 
 In Bacon's speech at the trial of Lord Sanquahar for a 
 very revengeful murder, the relenting lion is brought 
 forward. " Generous and magnanimous spirits are readiest 
 to forgive, and it is a weakness and im.potency of mind to 
 be unable to forgive. Corpora magnanimo satis est 
 prostrasse leonem." (" Life" IV. 291). The Latin line is 
 from Ovid's "Tristia" III. v. 33. 
 
 Shakespeare's pictures of this type of charity are 
 absolutely the same : — 
 
 Thus dost thou hear the Nenicean Hon roar 
 
 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey. 
 
 Submissive fall his princely feet before, 
 
 And he from forage will incline to play. 
 
 But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ? 
 
 Food for his rage, repasture for his den. 
 
 (L. L. L. IV. i. 90). 
 
 Troiliis. — Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you 
 Which better lits a lion than a man. 
 
 Hector.— What vice is that, good Troilus ? Chide me for it. 
 
 Troihis. — When many times the captive Grecian falls 
 Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, 
 You bid them rise and live. {Tro. Cr. V. iii. 37). 
 
 Henry VI. thinks his gentle treatment of his foes — his 
 pity, mildness, mercy, forgiveness, — will make them 
 relent : — 
 
 These graces challenge grace, 
 And when the lion fawns upon the lamb.
 
 230 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The lamb will never cease to follow hiiii. 
 
 (3 Hen. 17. IV. viii. 48— 50). 
 
 No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity? 
 
 {Rich. in. I. ii. 71). 
 
 Her life was beast-like and devoid of pity. 
 
 (77/. A. V. iii. 199). 
 
 As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey. 
 
 [Litcrccc, 421). 
 
 4. One of Bacon's charges against Aristotle is that 
 " after the Ottoman fashion, he thought he could not 
 reign in safety unless he put all his brethren to death." 
 {De Aug. III. iv). " The philosophy of Aristotle, after 
 having by hostile confutations destroyed all the rest (as the 
 Ottomans serve their brothers) has laid down the law on 
 all points." [Nov. Org. I. 67). He speaks of the "battles 
 and contests " (pugnas et dimicationes) of Aristotle, who, 
 after the Ottoman fashion felt insecure in his own Kingdom 
 of Philosophy till he had slain his brethren." (Works V. 
 
 463). 
 
 Bacon nowhere, I believe, names the Ottoman ruler 
 
 Amurath, who thus inaugurated his reign by fratricide. 
 
 But Shakespeare, when he makes the same allusion gives 
 
 the name. When Henry V. ascended the throne, seeing 
 
 alarm pictured on the face of his nobles and brothers, he 
 
 says,— 
 
 Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear ; 
 This is the English, not the Turkisli Court ; 
 Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, 
 But Harry, Harry. (2 Hen. IV. V. ii. 46). 
 
 Bacon's reference to the pugnas et dimicationes of 
 Aristotle is probably reflected in the words : — 
 
 Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray ; 
 Or so devout to Aristotle's checks 
 As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured. 
 
 (Tain. S. I. i. 31J. 
 
 > There is a class of men whom Bacon calls " troublers
 
 ENAMELLED DANGER. 23I 
 
 of the world." "That gigantic state of mind which 
 possesseth the troublers of the world, . . . who would 
 have all men happy or unhappy as they were their friends 
 or enemies and would give form to the world according to 
 their own humours." {De Atcg. VII. 2 ; Works V. 12). 
 " The French King troubles the Christian world." {Hen. 
 VII. Works VI. 118). AlsoS:v/. Syl. 1000. 
 
 The same phrase, with much the same technical mean- 
 ing is found in Shakespeare. Queen Margaret in her in- 
 vective against Richard III. calls him, "The troublerof the 
 poor world's peace." {Rich. III. I. iii. 221). Mariana, 
 finding her self-revealing is so affecting Pericles as to make 
 his comfort but the reflection of her story — making him 
 happ,- or not, according to her humours, says : — 
 
 But not to be a troubler of your peace, 
 I will end here. 
 
 {Pericles V. i. 153). 
 
 6. In a very early State paper of Bacon's, dating about 
 the end of the year 1584, and which was not published in 
 any form till 1651, quite a cluster of Shakespearean phrases 
 is to be found. It is a paper of advice to the Queen, with 
 reference to her treatment of the Papists. Bacon advises 
 that they should be discouraged and enfeebled rather than 
 actively persecuted. "To suffer them to be strong in the 
 hope that they will be contented with reasonable con- 
 cessions, carries with it but the fair enamelling of a terrible 
 danger." To leave them half content, half discontent, 
 worried and irritated by petty annoyances, "carries with it 
 an equally deceitful shadow of reason ; for no man loves 
 one the better for giving him a bastinado with a Httle 
 cudgell." The "fair enamel" covering danger, means 
 more than Bacon himself in these words expressed. The 
 latent metaphor is disclosed in two or three passages of 
 Shakespeare. Bacon had in his mind the metallic lustre of 
 a deadly snake — he might have worked up into his State 
 paper the following lines : — 
 
 And there tlie snake tlirows her enamell'd skin,
 
 232 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in. 
 
 01/. iV. D. II. i. 255). 
 
 As the snake, roU'd in a flowering bank, 
 
 With shining checker'd slough doth sting a child, 
 
 That for the beauty thinks it excellent. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. i. 228). 
 
 I fear me you but warm the starved snake 
 
 Who, cherished in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 
 
 {lb- 343). 
 The bastinado with a cudgell brings to mind the 
 energetic language of Philip, the Bastard, in John; re- 
 ferring to the citizen who speaks for Angiers : — 
 
 He gives the bastinado with his tongue, 
 Our ears are cudgelled : not a word of his 
 But buffets better than a fist of France. 
 
 (Jo//;/ II. i. 463). 
 
 From the passage in Bacon's prose we find that as early 
 as the year 1584 he had become accustomed to think of hard 
 words as comparable to hard blows — that the bastinado 
 may be wielded by the tongue as well as by the hand. 
 This same idea kept lasting hold on his mind, and re- 
 appears in many well-known Shakespearean passages. 
 Thus : — 
 
 Brutus. — Words before blows : is it so, countrymen ? 
 Octaviits. — Not that we love words better, as you do. 
 Brutus. — Good words are better tlian bad strokes, Octavius. 
 Antony. — In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words. 
 
 Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, 
 
 Crying, " Long live ! liail Cnssar ! " 
 
 Cassius. — Antony, 
 
 The posture of your blows are yet unknown. 
 
 {Jul. Ccvs. V. i. 27). 
 
 Forbear sharp speeches to her : she's a lady 
 So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes. 
 And strokes deatli to her. {Cyinb. III. v. 39). 
 
 7. Among other "deficients" in science which Bacon 
 noted, when, in the De Atignientis, he was making a map of
 
 SPITTING OUT THE TONGUE. 233 
 
 the territories already discovered, and pointing out those 
 yet to be cleared, he suggested that a collection should be 
 made of " what schoolmen term the ultimities, and Pindar 
 the tops or summits of human nature ; " specimens, that is, 
 of highest attainment in the several departments of human 
 culture, action, or endurance. The following is a specimen 
 of the sort of instances which he had in mind : — "Wha*. 
 a proof of patience is displayed in the story told of 
 Anaxarchus, who, when questioned under torture, bit out 
 his own tongue (the only hope of information), and spat it 
 in the face of the tyrant." (Works IV. 374). The story 
 is derived from Diogenes Laertius : Bacon's version is 
 taken from Pliny or Valerius Maximus. 
 
 Shakespeare takes the same action, which Bacon gives 
 as a top instance of patience, as a supreme specimen of 
 heroic and courageous defiance. Bolingbroke being 
 invited by the king to reconcile himself to Mowbray, and 
 throw away the gage of battle which he had picked up, 
 replies, — 
 
 O God, defend my soul from such deep sin ! 
 Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight ? 
 Or with pale beggar-fear impeach ni}- height 
 Before this out-dared dastard ? Ere my tongue 
 Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, 
 Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 
 The slavish motive of recanting fear, 
 And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace. 
 Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. 
 
 {Rich. II. I. i. 187). 
 
 It is not very likely that William Shakspere had read 
 any of the classic authors from which this story might be 
 derived. We cannot suppose that Pliny, Valerius Maximus, 
 or Diogenes Laertius were school books at Stratford-on- 
 Avon. If Bolingbroke's defiance had taken the form : — 
 
 I'll bite my tongue out, ere I use it thus, 
 
 it might have been regarded as n casual coincidence. But
 
 234 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 when he also threatens to spit it in the face of his enemy, 
 we cannot explain it by a clause in the chapter of accidents. 
 We find also that Shakespeare uses the word top in the 
 same technical sense as Bacon — to express the ne plus ultra 
 of achievement or quality. The following are instances: — 
 
 Admired Miranda ! 
 
 Indeed the top of admiration ! worth 
 
 What's dearest to the world. 
 
 {Temp. III. i. 37). 
 
 Salisburj^ seeing the dead body of Prince Arthur, sup- 
 posed to be murdered, exclaims: — 
 
 This is tlie very top 
 The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest 
 Of murder's arms. {John IV. iii. 45). 
 
 and other superlative phrases are added, 
 
 How would you be, 
 
 If He, which is tlie top of judgment, should 
 
 But judge you as you are ? 
 
 {Mens, for Mcas. II. ii. 75). 
 
 And wilt thou still be hammering treachery 
 To tumble down thy husband and thyself 
 From top of honour to disgrace's feet ? 
 
 (2 Hen. F/. I.ii.47). 
 
 Not in the legions 
 Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd 
 In evils to top Macbeth. {Macb. IV. iii. 55). 
 
 The merits of Coriolanus rest on actions, — 
 
 Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd 
 
 Would seeni but modest. 
 
 {Cor. I. ix. 24). 
 
 8. The fable of the basilisk is occasionally to be met 
 with in other Elizabethan poets besides Shakespeare. But 
 the resemblance between Bacon's method of applying it and 
 Shakespeare's is so striking that it is deserving of accurate 
 record. The cocatrice is another name for the same
 
 BASILISK OR COCATRICE. 235 
 
 fabulous creature. Bacon uses it to enforce his character- 
 istic maxim, that good men ought to understand evil as 
 well as good, and sound all the depths of Satan. "For, 
 as the fable goeth of the basilisk, that if he see you first 
 you die for it ; but if you see him first, he dieth ; so it is 
 with deceits and evil arts, which if they be first espied, 
 they leese their life ; but if they prevent, they endanger. 
 {Adv. L. II. xxi. g). The same legend is very skilfully 
 applied to Perkin Warbeck : "This was the end of this 
 little cocatrice of a King, that was able to destroy those 
 that did not espy him first. ("Hist, of Hen. VII." 
 Works VI. 203). The same fable is also alluded to in the 
 Syl. Syl. 924. The metaphorical use of the fable is 
 frequent in Shakespeare. 
 
 We are now glad to behold 3'our e3'es : — 
 
 Your e3'es, which hitherto have borne in them 
 
 Against the French, that met them in their bent, 
 
 The fatal balls of murdering basilisks. 
 
 The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, 
 
 Have lost their quality. 
 
 {Hen. V. V. ii. 14"). 
 
 The mood of one who could not pass by a jest, — a 
 characteristic, according to Ben Jonson, of Bacon, — is seen 
 in the multitudinous punning of these lines. For a certain 
 kind of cannon was called a basilisk, — and the "fatal 
 balls" may mean either cannon balls or eyeballs, according 
 to the double entendre of the word Basilisk. 
 
 Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding ; 
 Yet do not go away : come, basilisk. 
 And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight. 
 
 {2 Hen. VI. III. ii. 51). 
 
 Observe the gazer is innocent, that is, he does not espy in 
 any protective way. 
 
 I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. III. ii. 187). 
 
 Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
 
 236 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 [Reply.] Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead ! 
 
 {Rkii. in. I. ii. 150). 
 
 Here Bacon's theory of the power to fascinate by glances 
 of the eye, referred to in a former discussion (chap, x., 
 § 14), is also referred to. 
 
 O my accursed womb, the bed of death ! 
 
 A cocatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, 
 
 Whose unavoided eye is murderous. 
 
 (76. IV. i. 54). 
 
 This will so fright them both, that they will kill one another by 
 the look, like cocatrices. — Tivdftli Niglil III. iv. 213. 
 
 It is a basilisk unto mine eye, 
 
 Kills me to look on't. 
 
 (Cymb. II. iv. 107). 
 
 Make me not sighted like the basilisk ; 
 
 I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better 
 
 By my regard, but kill'd none so. 
 
 {Winter's Talc I. ii. 388). 
 
 Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but Aye, 
 And that bare vowel / shall poison more 
 Than the death darting Eye of Cocatrice. 
 
 (Rom. Jul. III. ii. 45). 
 
 Again the irresponsible punster is manifest. Again we 
 observe that Bacon never could pass by a joke. 
 
 Here with a cocatric' dead-killing eye 
 
 He rouseth up himself. {Litcrccc 540). 
 
 [Also, see 2 Hen. VI. III. ii. 321-4]. 
 
 g. Bacon in several places expresses his opinion that the 
 stars are true fires : "The fire of the stars is pure, perfect 
 and native. ... In heaven fire exists in its true place, 
 removed from the assault of any contrary body, constant, 
 sustained by itself and things hke itself . . . fiame with 
 us is pyramidal, and in the heaven, globular." (Works V. 
 538. 476, 533, 550). "The celestial bodies, most of them, 
 are true fires or flames, as the Stoics held ; more fine, 
 perhaps, and rareified than our flame is." {Syl. Syl. 31).
 
 THE STARS ARE FIRES. 237 
 
 The same opinion concerning stars is not infrequent in 
 Shakespeare. Coriolanus threatens his pusillanimous 
 countrymen, — 
 
 By the fires of heaven, TU leave the foe, 
 
 And make 1113' wars on you. 
 
 [Cor. I. iv. 39). 
 
 When Macbeth is contemplating murder, he exclaims : — 
 
 Stars ! hide your fires. — Mach. I. iv. 50. 
 
 Julius Caesar claims kindred with the stars : — 
 
 The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, 
 They are all fire, and every one doth shine. 
 
 {■fill. Cd's. III. i. 63). 
 
 Hamlet makes the same allusion : — 
 
 Doubt thou the stars are fire. — Ham. II. ii. 116. 
 
 This most e.xcellent canopy, the air, this brave o'erhanging 
 firmament, this majestical rooffretted with golden fire. — 7^. 311. 
 
 Gloucester, seeing Lear in the storm, exclaims : — 
 
 The sea, with such a storm as his bare head. 
 
 In hell-black night endured, woul'd have buoy'd up 
 
 And quench'd the stelled fires. 
 
 (Lear III. vii. 58). 
 
 And Antony, bewailing his defeat moans : — 
 
 My good stars, that were my former guides 
 
 Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires 
 
 Into the abysm of hell. 
 
 (Ant. Cko. III. xi. 145). 
 
 10. Bacon's references to quicksilver are very curious. 
 Among the motions, or active virtues of bodies, is — 
 '* Motion of Flight " by which bodies " from antipathy flee 
 from and put to flight hostile bodies, and separate them- 
 selves from them, or refuse to mingle with them. . . . 
 Quicksilver is kept from uniting into an entire mass by 
 lard, &c., owing to their desire to fly from these inter- 
 vening bodies. . . . Motion of Flight is conspicuous
 
 238 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 in gunpowder, quicksilver, and gold." {Nov. Org. II. 48). 
 " Quicksilver contains a flatulent and expansive spirit." 
 (Works V. ig6). The power of motion is seen in quick- 
 silver, "the force whereof, if it be vexed by fire, and 
 prevented from escaping, is not much less than that of 
 gunpowder." {lb. 437). 
 
 Now it is very remarkable that Bacon's curious scientific 
 notions about quicksilver are clearly reflected in the only 
 two passages in Shakespeare where it is referred to. In 
 2 Hen. IV. it is used to illustrate a motion of flight : — " A 
 rascal, bragging slave ! the rogue fled from me like quick- 
 silver." (2 Hen IV. II. iv. 247). 
 
 In Hamlet it refers to a motion of antipathy producing 
 an effect like the " mortification " of quicksilver. The 
 ghost is describing the mode in which he was murdered by 
 the juice of cursed hebenon : — 
 
 Whose effect 
 Holds such an enmity with blood of man, 
 That swift as quicksilver it courses through 
 The natural gates and alleys of the body, 
 And with a sudden vigour it doth posset 
 And curd, like eager droppings into milk, 
 The thin and wholesome blood. 
 
 {Ham. I. V. 64). 
 
 Bacon also uses the same metaphor to describe the flight 
 of Perkin Warbeck. "It was not long but Perkin, who 
 was made of quicksilver, which is hard to imprison, began 
 to stir. For, deceiving his keepers, he took to his heels 
 and made speed to the sea coast." ("Henry VII." 
 Works VI. 20). Here is a Motion of Flight. 
 
 II. Bacon seems to have studied the effect of poisons, as 
 part of his medical and physiological observations. One of 
 his most characteristic observations is that poisons often 
 cause swelling, and in this respect they resemble certain 
 conditions of the mind which also cause swelling, either 
 physical or psychical. 
 
 As to poison : — " It is accounted an evident sign of
 
 SWELLING AND VENOM. 239 
 
 poison (especially of that kind which operates by malig- 
 nancy, not by corrosion), if the face or body be swollen." 
 (Works V. 358). As to anger and pride: — "A sudden 
 burst of anger in some inflates the cheeks : as likewise does 
 pride." " Turke}' cocks swell greatly when angry." {lb. 
 358-g). Bacon speaks of "the swelling pride and usurpa- 
 tion of the See of Rome." ("Life" V. 5). He advises 
 Cecil a course to secure " honour ard merit of her Majesty 
 without ventosity {i.e. the swelling of pride or ambition) 
 or popularity." (" Life" IIL 45). And as to knowledge, 
 he remarks that "it is not the proportion or quantity of 
 knowledge, how large soever, that can make the mind of 
 man to swell ; but it is merely the quality of knowledge 
 which, be it in quantity more or less, if it be taken without 
 the true corrective thereof, hath in it some nature of venom 
 or malignity, and some effects of that venom, which is 
 ventosity or swelling. {Adv. L. I. i. 3). 
 
 All this is repeatedly reflected in Shakespeare. Ex. gr. 
 Anger or spleen : — 
 
 By the gods 
 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 
 Though it do split you. 
 
 {Jul Ccvs. IV. iii. 46). 
 
 My higli-bloicn pride. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. III. ii. 361). 
 
 The broken rancour of your IiigJi-sicofn hearts. 
 
 (A'/c7/. ///. Il.ii. 117). 
 
 Czesar's ambition which sicetled so much. 
 
 {Cynib. III. i. 49). 
 
 Blown ambition. 
 
 (Lear IV. iv. 27). 
 
 I have seen th' ambitious ocean swell and rage. 
 
 iyul. Ca^s. I. iii. 6). 
 
 Swell in their pride. 
 
 {Lucrece 432). 
 
 Othello, in his anger and hatred, and hunger for revenge, 
 says : —
 
 240 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Swell, bosom, with thy fraught ; 
 
 For 'tis of aspics' tongues / 
 
 {Olh. III. iii. 449). 
 
 12. Another of Bacon's physiological metaphors is shown 
 in the following passage from his Essay of " Seditions " : — 
 " He that turneth the humours back and maketh the wound 
 bleed inwards endangereth malign ulcers and pernicious 
 imposthumations. " This refers to that mode of preventing 
 seditious rising which consists in '''giving moderate liberty 
 for griefs and discontentments to evaporate," The same 
 sentiment is expressed in a speech in Parliament (1810). 
 "Take away liberty of Parliament, the griefs of the subject 
 will bleed inwards. Sharp and eager humours will not 
 evaporate, and then they must exulcerate, and so may 
 endanger the sovereignty itself." (" Life " IV. 177). And 
 again: "These things mought be dissembled, and so 
 things left to bleed inwards." (''Life" V. 45). And 
 describing a condition of stifled discontent in Henry VH. 's 
 reign, he says that the methods of repression " made the 
 King rather more absolute, than more safe. For bleeding 
 inwards and shut vapours strangle soonest and oppress 
 most." (Works VL 153). 
 
 So Henry IV., lamenting over the wild conduct of his 
 son, says : — 
 
 The blood weeps from my lieart when I do shape 
 In forms imaginary, the unguided days 
 And rotten times that you shall look upon 
 When I am sleeping with my ancestors. * 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. iv. 58). 
 
 and the Prince in his turn says : — 
 
 " My heart bleeds inwardly that my fatiier is so sick ; and keeping 
 such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from me all 
 ostentation of sorrow." {lb. II. ii. 51). 
 
 Timon's servant says : 
 
 I bleed inwardly for my Lord. 
 
 {Tim. A. I. ii. 211).
 
 WOUNDS SEARCHED. 24I 
 
 And still more distinctly is the metaphor employed by 
 Hamlet : — 
 
 This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace 
 
 That inward breaks, and shows no cause without 
 
 Why the man dies. 
 
 {Ham. IV. iv. 27). 
 
 13. To this class of parallels the following also may be 
 referred. Bacon in his subsidy speech (A.D. 1593) says : — 
 " We are here to search the wounds of the realm, and not 
 to skin them over. " ("Life" I. 223). In the observations 
 on a Libel, he uses the expression : " Having lately with 
 much difficulty rather smoothed and skinned over than 
 healed and extinguished the commotion of Aragon." 
 (" Life " L 163). 
 
 The 3rd of the Meditationes Sacrcs commences with the 
 aphorism, " To a man of perverse and corrupt judgment, 
 all instruction or persuasion is fruitless and contemptible 
 which begins not with discovery and laying open of the 
 distemper and ill complexion of the mind which is to be 
 recured, as a plaster is unseasonably applied before the 
 wound be searched." (Works VH. 244). 
 
 The Shakespearean echoes of these passages are 
 perfect : — 
 
 It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, 
 
 Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, 
 
 Infects unseen. 
 
 (Hani. III. iv. 147). 
 
 Authority, though it err like others. 
 
 Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself 
 
 That skins the vice o' the top. 
 
 {Mcas. M. II. ii. 134). 
 
 Now to tlic bottom dost thou search ni}^ wound. 
 
 {Tif. A.U. iii. ?62). 
 
 Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound 
 I have by hard adventure found my own. 
 
 {As You Like II II. iv. 44). 
 
 The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, 
 
 R
 
 242 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 And time to speak it in : you rub the <ove, 
 
 When you should bring the plaster. 
 
 (Temp. II. i. 137). 
 
 Poor wounded name ! My bosom, as a bed, 
 
 Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd ; 
 
 And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. 
 
 {Two Gent, of Vfi: I. ii. 114). 
 
 14. That sweet things may turn sour in digestion is a 
 physiological fact used symbolically by Bacon. In a letter 
 to Villiers we find : — "For as his Majesty first conceived, 
 I would not have it stay in his stomach too long lest it 
 sour in the digestion." (" Life " V. 285). Much the same 
 thing occurs in the charge against Somerset. "It is a 
 principle in nature that the best things are in their corrup- 
 tion the worst, and the sweetest wine makes the sharpest 
 vinegar. So it fell out with them, that this excess, as I 
 may term it, of friendship, ended in mortal hatred." 
 ("Life" V. 313). In the Pronms, there are two notes, 
 571 and 910, on the " Vinegar of sweet wine." 
 
 Shakespeare appears to have made use of this note 
 several times. 
 
 A surfeit of the sweetest things 
 
 The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. 
 
 (71/. N.D. II. ii. 137). 
 
 Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. 
 
 {Rich. II. I. iii. 236). 
 
 Mr. Thomas W. White (our English Homer), p. 243, 
 remarks the identical use in Shakespeare of the simile used 
 by Bacon in his Somerset charge : — 
 
 Sweet love, I see, changing his property. 
 Turns to the sourest and most deadh' hate. 
 
 {Rich. II. III. ii. 135). 
 
 The sweetest honey 
 Is loathsome in its own deliciousness, 
 And in the taste confounds the appetite. 
 
 (Rom. J. II. vi. 11). 
 
 The sweets we wish for turn to loathed sours,
 
 SWEETNESS AND SPEECH. 243 
 
 Even in the moment that \vc call them ours. 
 
 {Liicrccc 867). 
 
 Sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds. 
 
 (Son. 94). 
 
 15. Some of Bacon's applications of the epithet swcd, 
 are worth study. It is applied in a very characteristic way 
 to speech and sound. Pleasant words spoken in the morn- 
 ing are especially sweet. And music, or musical discourse 
 is sweeter by night than by day. These characteristics are 
 formally expressed — as if they were scientific facts, — in the 
 following passages. In the Promus there is a note, No. 
 i,2ig, which runs as follows: — "Sweet for speech of 
 ye morning," i.e., sivcct, it is noted, is an epithet specially 
 applicable to speech in the morning. In the Syl. Syl. 235, 
 we read, "Sounds are meliorated by the intension [i.e., 
 intensification or concentration] of the sense, where the 
 common sense is collected most to the particular sense of 
 hearing, and the sight suspended ; and, therefore, sounds 
 are sweeter as well as greater in the night than in the day ; 
 and I suppose they are sweeter to blind men than to 
 others : and it is manifest, that between sleeping and 
 waking, when all the senses are bound and suspended, 
 music is far sweeter than when one is fully waking." (See 
 also Syl. Syl. 143). 
 
 Bacon also writes, "Thus did the French ambassadors, 
 with great show of their king's affection, and many 
 sugared words, seek to addnlce all matters between the two 
 Kings." ("Hen. VH." Works VI. 109). 
 
 It is remarkable how constantly sweetness, sugar and 
 honey, are applied to speech in Shakespeare. For 
 example : — 
 
 Your fair discourse hath been as sugar 
 Making the hard way sweet and delectable. 
 
 {Rich. II. II. iii. 6). 
 
 ^ly woman's heart 
 Grossly grew captive to his honey words. 
 
 {Rich. III. l\.\. 79).
 
 244 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 When he speaks, 
 The air, a chartcr'd libertine, is still. 
 And the mute wonder lurkcth in men's cars 
 To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences, 
 
 {Hen. V. I. i. 47). 
 
 The honey of his language. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. III. ii. 22). 
 
 Suck the honey of his music vows. 
 
 {Haw. III. i. 164). 
 
 The sweetness of morning speech is clearly reflected in 
 the Friar's salutation to Romeo : — 
 
 What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ? 
 
 (Rom. J. II. iii. 32). 
 
 And the sweetness of the sound at night, — 
 
 How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night. 
 
 {Row. y. II. ii. 166 
 
 Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 
 {Mer. Ven. V. i. 55). 
 
 16. Other scientific ideas which Bacon held about sound 
 are clearly reflected in Shakespeare. Thus he writes in 
 his Natural History notes : — 
 
 "The lower winds in a plain, except they be strong, 
 make no noise ; but amongst trees the noise of such winds, 
 will be perceived." {Syl. Syl. 115). 
 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
 When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven. 
 
 {Mer. Ven. IV. i. 75). 
 
 In such a night as this, 
 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
 
 And they did make no noise. 
 
 {Mer. Ven. V. i. i). 
 
 Observe how the little phrase, "make no noise," always.
 
 KNOTS IN WOOD. 245 
 
 refers to the movement of wind in the trees. (See the 
 whole o( Syl. Syl. 115). 
 
 17. A very accurate reflection of Bacon's idea of sound 
 heard in the night, with the contrast between hearing and 
 seeing, and the intensification of one sense by the suspen- 
 sion of another, is given in that storehouse of Baconian 
 thought, the Midsummer Nighfs Dream. (See Syl. Syl. 235, 
 already quoted, 15). 
 
 Dark night that from the eye his function takes 
 The ear mure quick of apprehension makes ; 
 Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, 
 It pays the hearing double recompense. 
 
 {M.X.D. III. ii. 177). 
 
 18. A very curious correspondence between Bacon's 
 idea^ about knots in wood, and Shakespeare, has been 
 pointed out to me by my cousin, Mr. William Theobald. 
 The Shakespeare passage is not easily understood except 
 by the light of the Baconian commentary. 
 
 As knots by the conHux of meeting sap 
 Infect the sound pine and divert his grain, 
 Tortive and errant trom his course of growth. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. I. iii. 7). 
 
 Here is the explanation : — 
 
 " There be divers herbs, but no trees, that may be said to 
 have some kind of order in the putting forth of their 
 leaves ; for they have joints or knuckles as it were, stops in 
 their germination. The cause whereof is for that the sap 
 ascendeth unequally, and doth as it were tire and stop by 
 the way. And it seemeth they have some closeness and 
 hardness in their stalk, which hindereth the sap from going 
 up, until it hath gathered into a knot." {Syl. Syl. 589). 
 
 Knots in wood. Bacon supposes to be caused by some 
 arrest in the circulation of the sap. The Shakespeare 
 passage shews a slight variation or extension of the theory 
 given in the Syl. Syl., but the botanical physiology is the 
 same.
 
 246 SHAKESPEAR]-: STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 19. Promus, Note No. 601, is: "He that pardons his 
 enemy the amner shall have his goods." The amner 
 means the almoner, the official administrator of charitable 
 finances. The meaning of the proverb, therefore, is : He 
 that gives away pardons with undiscriminating charity, 
 gives away himself and all he possesses, — all his goods go to 
 the distributor of alms. This aphorism reappears in altered 
 form in the Antitheta on Cruelty. {Dc Aug. VI. iii.. No. 18). 
 " None of the virtues has so many crimes to answer for 
 as clemency." "He that has mercy on his enemy has 
 none on himself." It is also found more amply expounded 
 in the discourse on scattered occasions, taken from the 
 Proverbs. [De Aug. VIII, ii.. No. 14). " Solomon wisely 
 adds. That the mercies of the wicked are cruel. Such is 
 the sparing to use the sword of justice upon wicked and 
 guilty men ; which kind of mercy is more cruel than 
 cruelty itself; for cruelty is only practised upon individual 
 persons, but this mercy to crime, by granting impunity, 
 arms and let loose upon the innocent the whole army of 
 villains." Bacon also writes in similar terms to Bucking- 
 ham : "Mercy in such a case, in a King, is true cruelty." 
 ("Life" VI. 46). 
 
 Although this is not a very profound or original axiom, 
 yet is worth observation how often and how exactly it is 
 reproduced in Shakespeare. 
 
 Let the traitor die, 
 For sparing justice feeds iniquity. 
 
 (Lncrccc, 1686). 
 
 Justice. — Lord Angelo is severe. 
 
 Escaliis. — It is but needful 
 
 Mercy is not itself that oft looks so; 
 Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. 
 
 {Mcas. M. IL i., end). 
 
 Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove 
 A serpent that will sting thee to the heart . . . 
 Thou kilFst me in his life giving liim breath, 
 The traitor lives, the true man's put to dcatli . . .
 
 BASTARD USURY. 247 
 
 If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, 
 More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. 
 This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rest sound: 
 This let alone, will all the rest confound . . . 
 Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace. 
 
 {Rich. II. V. iii. 57 — 99). 
 
 Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. 
 
 {Rom. Jul. III. i., last line). 
 
 'Tis necessary he should die: 
 Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. 
 
 {Ttmon III. v. 2). 
 
 20. Bacon's views on usury are such as modern political 
 economy does not endorse. Lending money on interest was 
 distasteful to him, and yet he admits that it may advance 
 merchandising. But of the begetting of money in this 
 way, he always speaks with some contempt : The Essay 
 on "Usury" records various invectives against usury: 
 "That it is against nature for money to beget money," &c. 
 In the history of Henry VII., the Chancellor, Morton, 
 speaking to Parliament for the King, tells them : " His 
 Grace prays you to take into consideration matter of trade 
 . . . and to repress the bastard and barren employment of 
 moneys to usury and unlawful exchanges " (" Works " VI. 
 p. 80), and as a result of this counsel Bacon notes: 
 " There were also made good and politic laws that Parlia- 
 ment against usury, which is the bastard use of money, 
 and against unlawful chievances and exchanges, which is 
 bastard usury." (76, p. 87). 
 
 In Shakespeare the same view of usury as money unlaw- 
 fully begotten is found. The word use sometimes means 
 usury, as in the following : — 
 
 Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, 
 But gold that's put to use more gold begets, 
 
 {Veil. Adou. 767). 
 
 This, however, does not necessarily imply that the issue 
 is unlawful. In other passages this opinion is expressed. 
 Antonio says to Shylock : —
 
 248 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 
 As to thy friends; for when did friendship take 
 
 A breed for barren metal of his friend. 
 
 [Mer. Veil. I. iii. 133). 
 
 Shylock is the typical usurer, and he describes Jacob's 
 mode of gaining his profits in sheep-farming. Antonio 
 asks : — 
 
 Was this inserted to make interest good, 
 
 Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? 
 
 Shy. — I cannot tell : I make it breed as fast. 
 
 [lb. 95). 
 
 In Twelfth Night the clown, pointing to the coin which 
 Viola has given him, says : — 
 
 Would not a pair of these have bred, sir ? 
 Vio. — Yes, being kept together and put to use. 
 CIo. — I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a 
 Cressida to this Troilus. 
 
 iTwelfih Night III. i. 54). 
 
 Putting all these passages together, Shakespeare's 
 opinion seems to be much the same as Bacon's. Usury 
 revolts him, and yet its necessity must be conceded. The 
 same uncertainty of view is seen in one of Bacon's objec- 
 tions against usury — that it doth dull and damp all indus- 
 tries," — and yet as "the greatest part of trade is driven by 
 young merchants upon borrowing at interest," so, if the 
 rate of interest is moderate, he finds that this use of money 
 " will encourage and edge industrious and profitable 
 employments." (Essay on "Usury.") This Essay was 
 not published till 1625, When Hamlet was written, the 
 poet does not seem to have advanced quite so far. He 
 speaks of lending money in the same terms, — the edge of 
 trade is dulled by the use of borrowed capital; accordingl}^ 
 his advice is : — 
 
 Neither a borrower nor a lender be. 
 For loan oft loses both itself and friend; 
 And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
 
 (Ham. I. iii. 75).
 
 SEEDS OF TIME. 249 
 
 21. There is in Shakespeare a well-known passage on 
 philosophical foresight : — 
 
 There is a history in all men's lives 
 
 Figuring the nature of the times deceased: 
 
 The which observed, a man may prophesy, 
 
 With a near aim, of the main chance of things 
 
 As yet not come to life, which in their seeds 
 
 And weak beginnings lie intreasured: 
 
 Such things become the hatch and brood of time. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. III. i. 80). 
 
 The very singular conjunction of " seeds and beginnings" 
 was a habitual mode of speech with Bacon. Writing a 
 paper of instructions for Sir John Digby, then proceeding 
 to Spain, he speaks of the advantages to be derived from 
 amity with Spain : "Also, that it may be a beginning and 
 seed (for the like actions have had less beginnings) of a holy 
 war against the Turk." (Works VII. 4). In a speech 
 on union with Scotland, he says, " Nay more, Mr, 
 Speaker, whosoever shall look into the seminary and be- 
 ginnings of the monarchies of the world, he shall find them 
 founded in poverty." ("Life" III. 324). Dedicating to 
 the King his Essay on the true greatness of Britain, he 
 says, " None of the great monarchies, which, in the 
 memory of times have risen in the habitable world, had so 
 fair seeds and beginnings, as hath this your estate and 
 kingdom." (Works VII. 47). 
 
 Much the same sort of speech is found in Banquo's 
 challenge to the witches,— 
 
 If you can look into the seeds of time, 
 
 And say which grain will grow and which will not, 
 
 Speak then to me. 
 
 {Macb. I. Hi. 58). 
 
 This is, perhaps, a reflection of the axiom that Bacon de- 
 rived from Aristotle, " That the nature of everything is 
 best seen in his smallest portions." ("Advancement" II. i. 
 5; Works III. 332). 
 
 22. Bacon seemed to look upon --var as a kind of necessity
 
 250 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 for a State — as exercise is for an individual. In 1595 writ- 
 ing for Essex to Lord Rutland, he says, " Politic bodies 
 are like our natural bodies, and must as well have some 
 exercise to spend their humours, as to be kept from too 
 violent or continual outrages, which spend their best 
 spirits." ("Life" IL 12). And the Essay on the " True 
 Greatness of Kingdoms" puts the same point more clearly. 
 "No body can be healthful without exercise, neither 
 natural body, nor politic ; and certainly to a kingdom 
 or estate, a just and honourable war is the true exercise. A 
 civil war indeed is like the heat of a fever, but a foreign 
 war is like the heat of exercise, and serveth to keep the 
 body in health. For in a slothful peace, both courages 
 will effeminate and manners corrupt." 
 
 This is not infrequently reflected in Shakespeare : — 
 
 I had a purpose now 
 
 To lead out many to the Holy Land. 
 
 Lest rest and lying still might make tliem look 
 
 Too near into my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
 
 Be it thy course to busy giddy minds 
 
 With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out, 
 
 May waste the memory of the former days. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. V. 210). 
 
 The King, in AWs Well, gives permission to his nobles 
 to act as volunteers in the Tuscan service : — 
 
 It well may serve 
 
 A nursery to our gentry, who are sick. 
 
 For breathing and exploit. 
 
 {All's Well I. ii. 15). 
 
 Parolles gives a somewhat coarse version of the same 
 sentiment : — 
 
 To the wars, my boy, to the wars ! 
 He wears his honour in a box unseen 
 That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, 
 Spending his manly marrow in her arms. 
 Which sliould sustain the bound and high curvet 
 Of Mar's fiery steed. {lb. II. iii. 296).
 
 MEDICINAL USES OF WAR. 25I 
 
 And one of the Florentine lords takes the same view, — 
 But I am sure the younger of our nature 
 That surfeit on their ease, will day I?y day 
 Come here for physic. 
 
 [lb. III. i. 17). 
 
 Falstaff is ashamed of his soldiers — and describing the 
 composition of his regiment, calls them " Cankers of a 
 calm world and a long peace." (i Hen. IV. IV. ii. 31). The 
 Archbishop of York justifies the rebellion about which he 
 has been challenged thus : — 
 
 Wherefore do I this ? So the question stands ; — 
 
 Briefly to this end : we are all diseased, 
 
 And with our surfeiting and wanton hours 
 
 Have brought ourselves into" a burning fever, 
 
 And we must bleed for it ; of which disease, 
 
 Our late King, Richard, being infected, died. 
 
 But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland, 
 
 I take not on me here as a physician ; 
 
 Nor do I, as an enemy to peace, 
 
 Troop in the throngs of military men : 
 
 But rather shew a while like fearful war. 
 
 To diet rank minds, sick of happiness. 
 
 And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop 
 
 Our verv veins of life. 
 
 (2 Hen IV. IV. i. 53). 
 
 Bacon says of Henry VII. that insurrection was 
 *' almost a fever that took him every year." (Works. VI. 
 8g). Medical analogies, shewn in such words as, exercise, 
 humours, fever, heat, sloth, sick, surfeit, canker, bleed, 
 rank, purge, obstructions, stopped veins, govern the 
 whole theory of wars in Bacon and Shakespeare alike, 
 
 23. Bacon in speaking of the waste of vital force by 
 excessive indulgence of passion, says that the resulting 
 weakness (of sight especially) is caused by the " expense 
 of spirit." The same phrase is applied to the same 
 riotous indulgences in Sonnet 129. 
 
 The expense of spirit in a waste of shame. 
 Is lust in action.
 
 j^. Bacon, in his speech of Undertakers, said, " I know 
 but two forts in this house which the King ever hath, 
 the fort of affection, and the fort of reason; the one com- 
 mands the hearts, the other commands the heads." 
 ("Life" V.43). 
 
 In the Discourse on Fortitude which is spoken at the 
 Conference of Pleasure, the fort of reason is again found, 
 coupled with other Shakespearean expressions, forming an 
 excellent triad. 
 
 "Thus is fortitude the marshal of thought, the armour 
 of the will, and the fort of reason." 
 
 The Shakespearean equivalents to these phrases are : — 
 
 The o'er growth of some complexion, 
 
 Oft breaking down tlie pales and forts of reason. 
 
 {Ham. I. iv. 27). 
 
 Reason becomes the marshal to my will. 
 
 {M. N. jD. II. ii. 120). 
 
 and. 
 
 The single and peculiar life is bound, 
 
 With all the strength and armour of the mind, 
 
 To keep itself from noyance. 
 
 {Ham. III. iii. 11). 
 
 25. In 1615, Bacon, being anxious to obtain the status 
 of a Privy Counsellor, since he was acting and advising 
 as one, wrote to Villiers : — " Sure I am, there were never 
 times which did more require a King's attorney to be well 
 armed, and (as I said once to you) to wear a gauntlet and 
 not a glove." (" Life " V. 260). 
 
 Similarly, Northumberland, seeing the time for rebellion 
 approaching, casts aside the dress and equipment of sick- 
 ness, and exclaims : — 
 
 Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch ! 
 
 A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, 
 
 Must glove this hand. 
 
 {2 Hen. IV. I. i. 145). 
 
 26. Bacon purposed the Codification and Amendment
 
 PAPER LIGHT, 253 
 
 of the Laws, and regarded this as a work of infinite 
 importance, needing no special commendation. "This 
 work," he says, "shining so in itself, needs no taper." — 
 ("Life" VL 64). 
 
 Salisbury, rebuking King John for being crowned a 
 second time, when the glory of his original coronation yet 
 remained undimmed, says : — 
 
 Therefore to be possessed with double pomp 
 
 To guard a title that was rich before . . . 
 
 To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
 
 Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
 
 To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish. 
 
 Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. 
 
 [John IV. ii. 9). 
 
 Bacon is fond of taper-light. In his discourse on 
 Queen Elizabeth, he says : — " The fires of troubles abroad 
 have been ordained to be as lights and tapers to make her 
 virtue and magnanimity more apparent." (" Life" I. 132). 
 The same contrast between sunlight and taper or lantern 
 light is noted in the Promus 688 : " To help the sun with 
 lantornes " — which seems to be an anticipation of the 
 passage in John, This superfluous juxtaposition of the 
 limited supplies of art with the unlimited affluence of 
 nature, is noted also in the two preceding Pvonms notes, 
 viz. — 686 : Juxta fluvmm piiteiim foderc — to dig a well close 
 by a river ; and 687 : A ring of gold on a swine's snout. 
 These ideas are clearly reproduced in Shakespeare : — 
 
 What fool hath added water to the sea, 
 
 Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy ? 
 
 (77/. A. III. i. 68). 
 
 That were to enlard his fat-already pride, 
 And add more coals to Cancer when he burns 
 With entertaining great Hyperion. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. iii. 205). 
 
 The raven chides blackness. 
 
 {lb. 221). 
 
 Andrew — Would vou not have me honest ?
 
 254 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN DACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Toiichsioiic. — No, truly, unless thou wert hard favoured : for honesty 
 coupled to beauty is to have honey as a sauce to sugar. 
 
 (.4s You Like n III. iii. 29). 
 
 Who, when he lived, his healtli and beauty set 
 Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet. 
 
 (r.^.935)- 
 
 The Proinus note 687 presents the same sort of contrast 
 as that which is twice pictured in Shakespeare : — 
 
 O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright. 
 It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night, 
 Like a rich jewel in an .^Ethiop's ear. 
 
 {Rom. 'Jul. I. V. 42). 
 
 Save that my soul's imaginary sight 
 Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, 
 Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night. 
 Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. 
 
 (Son. 27). 
 
 In all these cases, as in the three successive Pronms 
 notes, Bacon and the Poet had the same intention of 
 bringing into comparison or contrast, the sublime or serious 
 on the one hand, with the ridiculous or trivial on the 
 other : what is beautiful and natural with what is grotesque, 
 fantastic and artificial. 
 
 See this point further discussed in " Bacon Journal " I. 
 70-72. 
 
 27. The following passage from a letter written by Bacon 
 to Sir Tobie Mathew, Feb. 28, 1621, soon after his fall, 
 has singular affinities with passages in Shakespeare : — 
 
 " In this solitude of friends, which is the base-court of 
 adversity, where almost nobody will be seen stirring, I 
 have often remembered a saying of my Lord Ambassador 
 of Spain, 'Amor san fin, no tienne fin ' — (Love without 
 end has no end). (" Life " VII. 335) 
 
 The base-court recalls the lines in Richard II. North- 
 umberland speaks : — 
 
 My Lord, in the base court he doth attend
 
 BASE COURT. COURT HOI.Y WATER. 255 
 
 To speak with you ; may't please you to come down ? 
 
 King Rich. — Down ? down I come ; like glistering Phacthon ; 
 Wanting the manage of unruly jades. 
 In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, 
 To come at traitors' calls and do them grace. 
 In the base coint ? Come down f Down court ! down King ! 
 For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing, 
 
 {Rich. II. III. iii. 176). 
 
 The ambassador's proverb, and the mode of quoting it — 
 "I have often remembered," — is echoed in Cymbeline : — 
 
 I know not why 
 
 I love this youth ; and I have heard you say. 
 
 Love's reason's without reason. 
 
 {Cyinb. IV. ii. 20). 
 
 This is evidently a variation on the Spanish proverb. The 
 meaning of the proverb is very elastic, and one of the 
 interpretations that may be put upon the phrase, Love 
 without End, is Love without thought of self, or reason. 
 Bacon's nimble mind could easily make the transition. 
 
 28. In 1592, Bacon wrote of Lord Burleigh, " He was 
 no brewer of holy water in Court, no dallier, no abuser, 
 but ever real and certain." (" Life " L 200). And writing 
 to Lord Burleigh's son, Salisbury, in 1607, he says, "Your 
 Lordship is no dealer of holy water, but noble and real." 
 {lb. in. 297). 
 
 The same very curious phrase occurs in Lear. The Fool 
 says to the outcast King, " O, nuncle, court holy water in 
 a dry house is better than rain out o' door." {Lear 
 III. ii. 10). The Clarendon note on this passage informs 
 us that the phrase, Court holy water, is of French origin — 
 Eau benite de Cour. It means the fair, complimentary, 
 ceremonious phraseology of a Court — fair words, easily 
 spoken, easily believed, easily disbelieved. 
 
 29. In the following passage from Shakespeare, the full 
 meaning is not contained in the words as they stand — 
 that must be obtained from a corresponding passage in 
 Bacon, In the play of Richard II., Bohngbroke enters the
 
 256 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 lists at Coventry, and gives courteous salutation to the 
 King and his lords, and last of all to his father. Gaunt, 
 whom he thus accosts : — 
 
 Lo, as at English feasts, so I regrect 
 
 The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. 
 
 {Ricli, II. I. iii. 67). 
 
 The custom of bringing sw^eetmeats on the table as the 
 last course of a feast is doubtless alluded to. But why 
 should this be spoken of as a specially English custom ? 
 Has the speaker in his mind any country where a different 
 practise prevails ? What country ? and what other ending 
 is observed for feasts in this country ? The text supplies 
 no answer to these questions : but a speech of Bacon's 
 does. In it he is reported to have addressed the House of 
 Commons in these words: "Let not this Parliament end 
 like a Dutch feast in salt meats, but like an English feast 
 in sweet meats." ("Life" IH. 215). Here, then, the 
 missing terms of the comparison are supplied, — Dutch 
 feasts, — salted meats. And we see that if the poet had 
 given full expression to all that was in his mind, he might 
 have added another line to Bolingbroke's salutation. 
 Thus : — 
 
 Lo, as at English feasts, I here regreet 
 
 The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet, 
 
 [Not like Dutch feasts, that end with salted meat.] 
 
 30. Bacon's willing service finds a singular mode of 
 expressing itself in the following passage from a letter to 
 Villiers, Nov. 2gth, 1616 : — 
 
 " Your Lordship may assure yourself, in whatsoever you 
 commit to me, your Lordship's further care shall be need- 
 less. For I desire to take nothing from my Master and 
 my friend, but care ; and therein, I am so covetous as I 
 will leave them as little as may be." ("Life" VL 115). 
 Henry V. expresses his special form of covetousness in the 
 same manner : — 
 
 By Jove ! I am not covetous for gold.
 
 SLANDER. GARRULITY. 257 
 
 Nor care I who cloth feed upon my cost ; 
 It yearns me not, if men my garments wear ; 
 Such outward things dwell not in my desires ; 
 But if it be a sin to covet honour, 
 I am the most offending soul alive. 
 
 {Hen. V. IV. iii. 24). 
 
 31. When Bacon writes to Villiers, (1615), "Fame hath 
 swift wings, specially that which hath black feathers," 
 ("Life" V. 248), we know he is speaking of injurious or 
 slanderous reports. But his entire meaning is better 
 understood if we refer to Sonnet 70. 
 
 That thou art blamed, shall not be thy defect, 
 For slander's mark was ever yet the fair ; 
 The ornament of beauty is suspect, 
 A crow that flics in heaven's sweetest air. 
 
 So, then, the bird of swift wing and black feathers is the 
 crow, the black colour means suspicion or slander. The 
 entire idea, thus metaphorically expressed, and divided 
 between the two utterances, is an organic whole ; the 
 metaphor and the moral were conceived together and are 
 the offspring of the same parent. Bacon is interpreted by 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 32. Bacon makes a somewhat scornful reference to men 
 holding high office who cling to their post after their 
 powers are decayed. " Nay, retire, men cannot when they 
 would ; neither will they when it were reason ; but are 
 impatient of privatenes.s, even in age and sickness, which 
 require the shadow ; like old townsmen that will be still 
 sitting at their street door, though thereby they offer age 
 to scorn." (Essay of "Great Place."). 
 
 Shakespeare was very fond of drawing the same picture. 
 It is most exactly reproduced in the following : — 
 
 Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though 
 credit be asleep, and not an ear open. 
 
 (ir. TalcY. ii. 67). 
 
 Remembering these, we can better understand the familiar 
 outlines of the following picture : — 
 
 s
 
 258 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 This act is as an ancient tale new told, 
 And in the last repeating troublesome, 
 Being urged at a time unseasonable. 
 In this the antique and well-noted face 
 Of plain old form is much disfigured. 
 
 {John IV. ii. 18). 
 
 The same picture is given in another setting : — 
 
 So should my papers, yellow'd with their age. 
 
 Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue ; 
 
 And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage, 
 
 And stretched metre of an antique song. (Son. 17). 
 
 Her song was tedious, and outwore the night. 
 For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short ; 
 If pleased themselves, others, they think, delight 
 In such-like circumstance, with such-like sport. 
 Their copious stories, oftentimes begun. 
 End without audience, and are never done. 
 
 {Veil. ^.841). 
 
 33. The fancy that the two eyes may wear different 
 expressions, or be differently employed, is common to 
 Bacon and Shakespeare. It is most familiar in the King's 
 description of himself, mourning for his deceased brother, 
 yet glad to wear his crown and wed his queen : — 
 
 As 'twere with a defeated joy, — 
 With an auspicious and a dropping eye, 
 With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage. 
 
 {Ham. I. ii. 11), 
 
 The same double sight is assumed in Winter's Tale : — 
 
 But, O, the noble combat that, 'twixt joy and sorrow, was fought 
 in Paulina ! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband ; 
 another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled. {Winter's Tale V. 
 ii. 80). 
 
 Bacon also describes Perkin Warbeck, — " beginning to 
 squint one eye upon the crown, and another upon the 
 sanctuary." (Works VI. 192). And in the account of 
 Squire's conspirac}', we find, — " Walpoole carrying a 
 waking and a waiting eye." (" Life " II. iii).
 
 TIME OUT OF JOINT. 259 
 
 34. Shakespeare's phrase "out of joint," which has 
 passed into current speech, so that it's singular and 
 original character is forgotten, is used more than once both 
 in Shakespeare and Bacon. The passages in the poetry 
 are the following : — 
 
 The time is out of joint : O, cursed spite, 
 Tliat ever I was born to set it right. 
 
 {Ham. I. V. 188). 
 
 Young Fortinbras, 
 Holding a weak supposal of 3'our worth, 
 Or thinking by our late dear brother's death 
 Our state to be disjoint and out of frame. 
 
 (76. I. ii. 17). 
 
 But let the frame of things disjoint. 
 
 {Macb. III. ii. 16). 
 
 He hath the joints of everything ; but ever34hing so out of joint, 
 that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. I. ii. 27). 
 
 Bacon is equally partial to the same form of speech : — 
 
 "We do plainly see in the most countries of Europe, so 
 unsound and shaken an estate, as desireth the help of some 
 great person to set together and join again the pieces 
 asunder and out of joint." "Notes on the State of 
 Christendom," 1582. (" Life " I. 27). 
 
 As the lines in Hamlet which bear so remarkable a 
 resemblance to this passage, appeared in the earliest 
 known edition, 1603, it was probably also in the oldest 
 edition of Hamlet, before 1587, no copy of which is known 
 to exist. 
 
 In another early paper of Bacon's, — the Observations on 
 a Libel, 1592, — the same phrase occurs. Referring to 
 authors of foreign libels, he says, "It must be understood 
 that it hath been the general practise of this kind of men, 
 ... to abuse the foreign estates, by making them believe 
 that all is out of joint, and ruinous here in England." 
 {"Life" I. 152). 
 
 In a letter to the King, 1615, referring to a trading
 
 26o SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IX BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 company, he discusses, "what is further to be done for the 
 setting of the trade again in joint." (" Life " V. 257). 
 
 35. The advice which lago gives to Roderigo {Oih. I. iii. 
 333)' "Put money in • tliy purse," — advice which is 
 repeated with one or two variations, ten times, seems to 
 have been a formula used by Bacon to indicate a state of 
 worldly ease and satisfaction, in which the strivings of 
 ambition are less eager, and the stirrings of discontent less 
 dangerous. When Bacon was taking stock of the rising 
 men whose opposition had to be taken into account, he 
 does so in these terms: — " Yelverton is won; Sands is 
 fallen off; Crew and Hyde stand to be Serjeants; Neville 
 hath his hopes ; Martin Jiath money in his purse ; Brock is 
 dead." (" Life " IV. 365 & 370). 
 
 In the letter of advice to Essex, 1598, he says, "Tyrone 
 is more like a gamester that will give over because he is a 
 winner, than because he hath no more money in his purse." 
 ("Life" II. 98). 
 
 There are several passages in Shakespeare, besides that 
 in Othello, in which much the same phrase, or its converse, 
 with the same meaning, occurs : — 
 
 O, ho, are 3-011 there with me ? No eyes in your head, nor no 
 
 {Lear. IV. vi. 148). 
 
 money in your purse ? 
 
 Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes : there is either 
 liquor in his pale, or nioney in his purse, wlien he looks so merrily. 
 
 (Mcr. IF'. II. i. 195). 
 
 With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his 
 
 purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if a' could 
 
 get her good-will. 
 
 {Much Ado. II. i. 15). 
 
 For my part, I had rather bear with j'ou than bear you; yet I 
 
 should bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no- 
 
 money in vour purse. 
 
 {As You Like nil. i\: 11). 
 
 His purse is empt)' ; all's golden words are spent. 
 
 {Ham. V. ii. 136).
 
 ADVANTAGE. WOLVES. 26r 
 
 36. Bacon, writing to Villiers, July 5th, 1616, asks, 
 " For if time give his Majesty the advantage, what needeth 
 precipitation to extreme remedies?" ("Life" V. 379). 
 Surely this is simply a variation of the more condensed 
 expression of the same maxim : — 
 
 Advantage is a better soldier than rashness. 
 
 {Hen. V. III. vi. 128). 
 
 This almost technical use of the word advantage, as 
 applied to time, is distinctly Baconian. It is equally 
 Shakesperian : — 
 
 Take all the swift advantage of the hours. 
 
 {Ricli. III. IV. i. 49). 
 
 Beyond him in the advantage of the time. 
 
 {Cyinb. IV. i. 12). 
 
 Make use of time, let not advantage slip. 
 
 {Veil. A. 129). 
 
 2)7. Bacon not infrequently describes the extremest type 
 of social disorder as one in which men become wolves and 
 devour each other. In the Antitheta on Justice, we find : 
 "It is owing to Justice that man is a God to man and not 
 a wolf." {De Aug. Yl. iil). 
 
 In expounding the proverb, "A righteous man falling 
 down before the wicked, is as a troubled fountain and a 
 corrupt spring," — he winds up with, "For when the 
 judgment-seat takes the part of injustice, there succeeds a 
 state of general robbery, and men turn wolves to each 
 other, according to the adage." {De Aug. VIII. ii. 25). 
 
 The same condition of social degeneration is magnifi- 
 cently described by Shakespeare, — as a state in which 
 "degree is shaked," — when all things are in a state of 
 "oppugnancy," or strife. In such a state justice no longer 
 exists : — 
 
 Force should be right : or, rather, riglit and wrong, 
 Between whose endless jar justice resides, 
 Should lose their names, and so should justice too.
 
 262 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Tticn everything includes itself in power, 
 
 Power into will, will into appetite, 
 
 And appetite, an universal wolf. 
 
 So doubly seconded by will and power, 
 
 Must make perforce an universal prey, 
 
 And last cat up itself. 
 
 (Sec Tro. C/ys. I. iii. 75-137)- 
 
 Henry IV. apprehends similar chaos when his wild son 
 comes to the throne : — 
 
 O, my poor Kingdom, sick with civil blows ! 
 When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
 What thou wilt do, when riot is thy care ? 
 O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
 Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants. 
 
 (See 2 Hen. IV. IV. v. 1 18-138). 
 
 This, too, is the light in which Albany regards the 
 kingdom when Lear is outcast : — 
 
 If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 
 
 Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, 
 
 Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 
 
 Like monsters of the deep. 
 
 [Lear IV. ii. 46). 
 
 38. The curious expression play prizes occurs once in 
 Shakespeare : — 
 
 So, Bassianus, you have played your prize. 
 
 {Tii. A. hi. 399). 
 
 It is found also in Bacon, — Oliver St. John, " intending, 
 as it seems to play prizes, would give no answer." 
 ("Life" V. 140). 
 
 " Far be it from us, by any strains of wit or art, to seek 
 to play prizes, or to blazon our names in blood." (" Speech 
 against Somerset," lb. V. 307). 
 
 " Who would not be offended at one who comes into the 
 pulpit, as if he came upon the stage to play parts or 
 prizes ? " (" Pacification of the Church," lb. III. iigj. 
 
 39. Starting holes is another curious phrase : —
 
 PUTTING TRICKS UPON. 263 
 
 What trick, what device, what starting hole can'st thou now find 
 out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ? — i Hen. /F 
 II. iv. 290. 
 
 Bacon, in his report on Lopez' conspiracy describes how 
 he, "thought to provide for himself as many starting holes 
 and evasions as he could devise, if any of these matters 
 should come to light." (" Life " I. 283). 
 
 Bacon describes certain conditions, not easily complied 
 with, in a certain experiment, and of them, he says, 
 "These two last I could easily suspect to be prescribed as 
 a starting hole " — to account for failure. {Syl. Syl. 998). 
 
 40. Bacon's Essay of " Cunning " concludes with the 
 following observation: — "Some build rather upon the 
 abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting tricks upon 
 them, than upon the soundness of their own proceedings." 
 This Essay was originally published in 1612. On the 
 above passage, Dr. Abbott remarks, "The word now 
 seems to apologize for the new-fashioned colloquial 
 phrase, pttt tricks on." It is used by Stephano {Tempest II. 
 ii. 62), and by the Clown in AlVs Well IV. v. 63. 
 
 Stephano. — Have we devils here ? Do you put tricks upon us with 
 savages ? 
 Clown. — If I put any tricks upon them, Sir, they shall be jade's 
 tricks. 
 
 As neither of these plays were known till 1623, there is no 
 reason for giving the phrase an earlier date than the Essay. 
 
 41. Bacon more than once uses the curious verb stage. 
 Thus in a letter to Buckingham, he says, "These things 
 should not be staged, nor talked of." (" Life" \TI. 151). 
 
 In a precisely similar sense the word is used in Shake- 
 speare : — 
 
 I love the people ; 
 But do not like to stage me in their eyes. 
 
 (Meas.forMeas. I. i. 68). 
 
 The quick comedians, 
 
 Extemporarily will stage us. 
 
 {Ant. CI. V. ii. 216).
 
 264 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 42. Bacon's observations about Motes and Shadows are 
 very characteristic. "The utmost parts of shadows seem 
 ever to tremble. The cause is for that the httle motes 
 which we see in the sun do ever stir, though there be no 
 wind, and therefore those moving in the meeting of the 
 hght and shadow, from the hght to the shadow, and from 
 the shadow to the light, do show the shadow to move 
 because the medium moveth." {Syl. Syl. 879). 
 
 This portion of Bacon's Natural History helps us to 
 a complete explanation of a line in Pericles, 
 
 Like motes and shadows see them move awhile. 
 
 {Pericles IV. iv. 21). 
 
 43. Most people use the twin adjectives gross and 
 palpable, without thought of their origin. It is one of 
 Bacon's many contributions to verbal currency. It was a 
 new coin when it issued from his affluent mint ; it is now 
 available to everyone for verbal traffic. Anyone using it in 
 the early part of the seventeenth century, would have felt 
 almost obliged to quote Bacon while employing it. It is 
 as well to recall our obligation to him now that we have 
 reached the twentieth century. 
 
 In his charge against Oliver St. John, summing up his 
 indictments, he proceeds : "The second is a slander and 
 falsification and wresting of the law of the land, gross and 
 palpable." ("Life" V. 141). In his charge against Lady 
 Somerset referring to her secret plan of murdering 
 Overbury by poison, he describes the crime as one "done 
 with an oath or vow of secrecy, which is like the Egyptian 
 darkness, a gross and palpable darkness that may be felt." 
 {lb. V. 103). In his observations on a libel, he promises 
 his readers to give them, "a taste of their untruths, 
 especially such as are wittily contrived, and are not 
 merely gross and palpable." (" Life " I. 267) And in the 
 " Advancement of Learning," he refers to the " gross and 
 palpable flattery, wherewith many (not the unlearned) 
 have abased and abused their wits and pens." (Works 
 
 in. 281)
 
 THE BAIL OF DEATH. 265 
 
 Bacon then may be regarded as the originator of this 
 formula of speech. But Shakespeare's claim is almost the 
 same. 
 
 This palpable, gross play hath well beguiled 
 
 The heavy gait of night. 
 
 (.1/. xV. D. V. i. 374). 
 
 Prince Hal says of Falstaff's witty inventions : — " These 
 lies are like their father that begets them, gross as a 
 mountain, open, palpable." (i Hen. IV. IV. iv. 249). 
 
 A trace of the same is found in another passage : — 
 
 'Tis so strange, 
 That though the truth of it stand out as gross 
 As black and white, ni}' eye will scarcely see it. 
 
 {Hen. V. II. ii. 102). 
 
 44. In Bacon's charge against Somerset, he describes 
 how Somerset first contrived that his victim should be 
 taken to the Tower : — 
 
 "He should be laid prisoner in the Tower, and then 
 they would look he should be close enough, and death 
 should be his bail." Another version has, " And indeed, he 
 did deliver him, but his bail was death. (" Life" V. 315). 
 
 Death is referred to in much the same way in the 
 Poetry : — 
 
 But be contented : when that fell arrest 
 
 Without all bail shall carr}' me away, &c. 
 
 (Son. 74). 
 
 This fell sergeant. Death, 
 
 Is strict in his arrest. 
 
 {Ham. V. ii. 347). 
 
 45. One of the chapters in Bacon's "Wisdom of the 
 Ancients" is entitled, "Narcissus, — or Self-Love." 
 Narcissus is only twice mentioned in Shakespeare, and in 
 one of these passages, the title of Bacon's chapter is 
 repeated : — 
 
 Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheer. 
 That had Narcissus seen her as she stood,
 
 266 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Self-love had never drowned liim in the flood. 
 
 (Liicrece 264). 
 
 It is worth while noting that the "Wisdom of the 
 Ancients " was pubhshed in i6og, fifteen years after the 
 pubHcation of Lucrece. 
 
 46. Shakespeare writes in one of his Sonnets (100). 
 
 Give my love fame, faster than Time wastes life. 
 
 Much the same phrase is used in Bacon's tract on the 
 " Pacification of the Church " : — " The civil state is purged 
 and restored by good and wholesome laws, made every 
 third or fourth year, in Parliaments assembled ; — devising 
 remedies as fast as time breedeth mischiefs." ("Life" 
 iii. 105). 
 
 47. One rather frequent mode of expression with Bacon, 
 is to say of some attribute or quality that it lies in the 
 object to which it addresses itself, and does not exist for 
 its own sake. For instance, he affirms that " no kind of 
 men love business for itself, but those that are learned " — 
 "so that as it is said of untrue valours that some men's 
 valours are in the eyes of them that look on, so such men's 
 industries {i,e., other than learning) are in the eyes of 
 others, or at least in regard of their own designments." 
 " Advancement " I. ii. 5. (Works III. 272). In another 
 place, the application of this to the Spaniards is made : — 
 "The Spaniard's valour lieth in the eye of the looker on, 
 but the Enghsh valour lieth about the soldier's heart." 
 ("Life" VII. 499). 
 
 Shakespeare has the same habit of expression : — 
 
 A jest's prosperity lies in the ear 
 
 Of him that hears it ; never in the tongue 
 
 Of him that makes it. 
 
 (L. L. L. V. n. 871). 
 
 Green. — Our nearness to the King in love 
 
 Is near the hate of those love not the King. 
 Bagot. — And that's the wavering commons, for their love 
 
 Lies in their purses. 
 
 {Rich. II. II. h. 127).
 
 WINKING MARIGOLDS. MADNESS PREVALENT. 267 
 
 This is a slave whose easy-borrow'd pride, 
 Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. 
 
 {Lear II. iv. 188). 
 
 A strutting player, whose conceit 
 
 Lies in his hamstring. 
 
 {Tro. Ci: I. iii. 153). 
 
 48. "Some of the ancients," says Bacon, . . . "have 
 noted a sympathy between the sun, moon, and principal 
 stars, and certain herbs and plants, . . . marigolds, 
 tulippas, pimpernel, and indeed most flowers do open or 
 spread their leaves abroad when the sun shineth serene 
 and fair : and again (in some part) close them or gather 
 them inward either towards night or when the sky is over- 
 cast." {Syl. Syl. 493). 
 
 The morning serenade in Cymheline refers to this 
 property of the marigold : — 
 
 And winking marigolds begin 
 
 To ope their golden e3'es. 
 
 (Cyiub. II. iii. 25). 
 
 The same reference is made in other passages : 
 
 The marigold that goes to be 
 And with him rises weeping. 
 
 The marigold that goes to bed with the sun 
 
 [W. Tale IV. iv. 105). 
 
 Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, 
 
 But as the marigold at the sun's eye. 
 
 (Son. 25). 
 
 49. In the Promus, there is a note (1055), affirming the 
 almost universal prevalence of madness. It is from 
 Horace : — 
 
 Nimirum insanus paucis videatur ; 
 
 Maxima pars Iiominum morbo laboret eodem. 
 
 (Few persons regard him as insane — the greater part of 
 men are labouring under the same disease). 
 
 The same idea is reproduced even in such a seriously 
 philosophical work as the Novum Organnm I. 27. 
 "Anticipations are a ground sufficiently firm for consent ;
 
 268 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 for even if men went mad all after the same fashion, they 
 might agree one with another well enough." 
 
 The Clown in the grave-digging scene in Hamlet seems 
 to have found out the same epidemic of madness. Hamlet 
 asks him : — 
 
 Why was he [}'Oung Hamlet], sent to Enj^land? 
 Clown. — Why because he was mad; he shall recover his wits there, 
 or if he do not, 'tis no great matter there. 
 
 Ham.— Why? 
 
 Clown. — 'Twill not be seen in him there ; there the men are as 
 
 mad as he. 
 
 {Ham. V. i. i66). 
 
 This is a pretty faithful reproduction of insaims paucis vi- 
 deatur. Lady ]Macduff' s little son, in replying to her teach- 
 ing, that liars and swearers must all be hanged by honest 
 men, says, — 
 
 Then the liars and swearers are fools ; for there are liars and 
 swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang them up. 
 
 (Mac. IV. ii. 56). 
 
 This is a sort of variation of the original maxim. The 
 original sentiment combined with the variation, occurs in 
 As You Like It : — 
 
 " Love is merely a madness, and I tell you, deserves as well a dark 
 house and a whip as madmen do ; and the reason why they are not 
 so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the 
 whippers are in love too." {As Yon Like It III. ii. 420). 
 
 50. It is curious that in the very next Aphorism in the 
 Novum Organnui which gives this parallel to the clown's 
 theory of general madness, there is a very accurate repro- 
 duction of the epithets which Ophelia uses to describe 
 Hamlet's madness : — 
 
 Like sweet bells jangled, 0/// of tunc and harsh. 
 
 {Ham. III. i. 166). 
 
 Bacon is still discoursing about Anticipations of the 
 mind — and contrasting them, in regard to their power of
 
 ACCIDENT AND FORESIGHT. 269 
 
 winning assent, with true interpretations of Nature: which 
 "cannot suddenly strike the understanding and therefore 
 they must needs, in respect of the opinions of the time, 
 seem harsh and out of tune." Tlie Latin is " duras et 
 absonas." 
 
 51. Bacon speaks of certain facts as "fit to be tabled 
 and pictured in the chambers of meditation." ("Life" 
 IV. 10.) This is certainly remarkably like the Friar's 
 reference to Hero, supposed to be dead : — 
 
 The idea of her Hfe shall sweetly creep 
 
 Into his study of imagination. 
 
 (M. Ado. IV. i. 226). 
 
 52. In one of Bacon's letters to the King, he thus des- 
 cribes his own w^ork : — 
 
 " Your Majesty hath put upon me a work of Providence 
 in this great cause ; which is to break and distinguish 
 future events into present cases, and so to present them to 
 your royal judgment, that in this action, which hath been 
 carried for your Majesty's part with so great prudence, 
 justice and clemency, there may be for that which re- 
 maineth, as little surprise as possible ; but that things duly 
 foreseen may have their remedies and directions in readi- 
 ness. Wherein I cannot forget what the poet. Martial, 
 saith, quantum est casibus ingenium, signifying that 
 accident is many times more subtle than foresight, and 
 over-reacheth expectation." ("Life" V. 276). 
 
 This gives us an insight into the classic origin of another 
 well-known passage in Hamlet : — 
 
 Rashly, — 
 And praised be rashness for it, — let us know 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 When our deep plots do pall; and that should te^ch us 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends. 
 Rough-hew them how we will. 
 
 {Ham. V. ii.6). 
 
 53. The following very curious correspondence is pointed 
 out to me by Mr. Edwin Reed, of Boston, U.S. Although
 
 270 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 the significance of it is in one word, yet that word is the key- 
 word — the one important word — in both the passages thus 
 connected. The Baconian quotation is judiciously omitted 
 in the Pitt Press Edition of Bacon's " Henry VII ; " but 
 it is given in Spedding's edition of the Works, Vol. VI. 
 p. 215. The question under consideration is as to 
 legitimacy of the marriage of Henry VIII. with Katherine 
 of Aragon, who had been married to Prince Arthur. This 
 is the passage : — 
 
 " There was given in evidence also, when the cause of 
 the divorce was handled, a pleasant passage, which was — 
 that in a morning Prince Arthur, upon his uprising from bed 
 with her [Katherine] called for drink, which he was not 
 accustomed to do, and finding the gentleman of his 
 chamber that brought him the drink to smile at it and to 
 note it, he said merrily to him that he had been in the 
 midst of Spain, which was an hot region, and his journey 
 had made him dry." 
 
 Compare this with the colloquy between Dromio and 
 Antipholus of Syracuse. 
 
 Div, S. — She is spherical, like a globe: I could find countries in her. 
 Anf. S. — In what part of her body stands . . . Spain ? 
 Div. S. — Faith I saw it not, but I felt it Jiot in tier breath. 
 
 {Com. Eri'orslll ii. 115). 
 
 Dromio and Prince Arthur's impressions of Spain are 
 not only identical, — they are formed apparently under 
 the same very unique conditions. 
 
 54, In two letters written by Bacon soon after his fall, 
 nearly the same very remarkable expression occurs : — 
 "While I live, my affection to do you service shall re- 
 main quick under the ashes of my fortune " (Letter to 
 Bristol. — "Life" VII.) And again, "The sparks of my 
 affection shall ever rest quick under the ashes of my 
 fortune, to do you service." (Letter to Falkland. — lb). 
 
 Cleopatra, under very analogous conditions, just before 
 .she puts the fatal asp to her bosom, says, —
 
 TRASH. PACKHORSE. 27I 
 
 Prithee, go hence ; 
 Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits 
 Through the ashes of my chance. 
 
 (.-i»/. C/. V. ii. 172). 
 
 As the play of Antony and Cleopatra was never heard 
 of till 1623, two years after Bacon wrote the letters from 
 which I have quoted, there is no good reason for suppos- 
 ing that these Hues in the play are of an earlier date. 
 
 55. Like Shakespeare, Bacon was accustomed to speak 
 of money and earthly possessions as '' tmsh." "If he be 
 thankful for small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's 
 mind, and not their trash." (Essay of " Goodness "). 
 
 In the speech at the trial of Lord Sanquahar, we find, 
 — "This I commend in you, and" take it to be an assured 
 token of God's mercy and favour, in respect whereof all 
 worldly things are but trash." (" Life " IV. 293). 
 
 So the Poet writes, — 
 
 Who steals my purse, steals trash. 
 
 {0th. III. iii. 157). 
 
 Shall one of us, 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
 But for supporting robbers, shall we now, 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes. 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honours 
 For so much trash as may be grasped thus? 
 
 {Jul. C. IV. iii. 21). 
 
 To wring 
 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash. 
 
 ilb. 73)- 
 
 56. Bacon writes to Murray, " I have laboured like a 
 pack-horse in your business." (" Life " IV. 247). 
 
 And Shakespeare calls opportunity, "Sin's pack-horse," 
 {Lucrcce 928) ; also : — " I was a pack-horse in his great 
 affairs." {Rich. III. I. iii. 122). 
 
 57. Bacon, writing for Walsingham, says, "Her 
 Majesty, — not liking to make windows into men's heart," 
 &c. ("Life" I. 98).
 
 272 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Shakespeare also, — 
 
 Behold the whidow of mine heart, mine eye. 
 
 {L.L.L.y.il 848). 
 
 Your true image . . . 
 In my bosom's sliop is hanging still, 
 That hath his windows glazed with thine e3'es. 
 
 (Son. 24). 
 
 58. Bacon wrote to Cecil, " We live in an age when 
 every man's imperfection is but another's fable." ("Life" 
 III. 22). 
 
 Shakespeare slightly varies the expression, — " Sir, make 
 me not your story." (M. M. I. iv. 30). "Make me not 
 object to the tell tale day." {Lucrece 806). 
 
 59. Bacon writes to the King, 1606 : — " For gracious 
 sovereign, if still when the waters are stirred, another shall 
 be put in before me, your Majesty has need to work a 
 miracle, or else I shall be still a lame man to do your 
 service." ("Life" IIL 295). 
 
 Most probably the same condition of ever postponed 
 promotion is referred to in the 37th Sonnet, — 
 
 As a decrepit father takes delight 
 
 To see his active child do deeds of youth, 
 
 So I, — made lame by fortune's dearest spite, — 
 Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth. 
 
 And in another Sonnet, still more clearly referring to 
 the same absence of royal favour, he writes, — 
 
 Say that thou did'st forsake me for some fault, 
 
 And I will comment upon that offence : 
 
 Speak of my lameness, and I straiglit will halt, 
 
 Against thy reasons making no defence. 
 
 (Sonnet 89). 
 
 60. In Bacon's speech for Naturalization, we find — 
 "The laws are rather figurce reipublicce than forma; and 
 rather bonds of perfection than bonds of entireness." 
 ("Life" in. 314). 
 
 So Worcester, when Hotspur has been speaking of
 
 THE WRONG OF TIME. 273 
 
 various modes of winning honour, — all wanting in rele- 
 vance to the actual situation, says, — 
 
 He apprehends a world of figures here, 
 But not the form of what he should attend. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. I. iii. 209). 
 
 The distinction is really the same as that in Bacon's 
 speech. Forms and figures are also grouped together in 
 Love's Labour's Lost IV. ii. 68. 
 
 61. Bacon often refers to the wrong of time: Eg. gr., 
 " The images of men's wits and knowledges remain in 
 books, exempted from the wrong of time, and capable of 
 perpetual renovation." ("Advancement" I. viii. 6. 
 Works III. 318). 
 
 The same idea, similarly expressed, is found in the 
 Sonnets, — 
 
 Yet, do thy worst, old Time ; despite thy wrong 
 
 My love shall in my verse ever live young. 
 
 (Sonnet 19). 
 
 A slight variation is to be found in the following : — 
 
 So that eternal love, in love's fresh case 
 Weighs not the dust and injury of age, 
 
 Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, 
 But makes antiquity for aye his page. 
 
 (Sonnet 108). 
 
 62. Bacon speaks of the confidence which seeks "to 
 depress and seems to despise whatever a man cannot 
 obtain : observing the good principle of the merchants, 
 who endeavour to raise the price of their own commodities 
 and to beat down the price of others." (" Advancement " 
 II. xxiii. 32. Works III. 464). 
 
 "In praising and blaming, men are commonly thinking 
 of their own business, and not speaking what they think. 
 
 Laudat venales qui vult extrudere, merces. 
 
 {Horace Ep. II. ii. 11). 
 T
 
 274 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 (The merchant praises what he wants to sell.) 
 
 And again, ' It is naught, it is naught, says the buyer ; 
 but when he is gone away he will vaunt.'" {De Aug. VI. 
 iii. First example of " Colours of Good and Evil." 
 
 Shakespeare writes : — 
 
 Fair Diomcd, you do as chapmen do, 
 Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy. 
 But we in silence hold this virtue well 
 We'll but commend what we intend to sell. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. IV. i. 75). 
 
 Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, 
 Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. 
 
 {Love's Labour's Lost II. i. 13). 
 
 Fie, painted rhetoric ! O, she needs it not : 
 
 To things of sale a seller's praise belongs ; 
 
 She passes pi-aise ; then praise too short doth blot. 
 
 {Ih. IV. iii. 239). 
 
 Let them say more that like of hear-say well, 
 
 I will not praise that purpose not to sell. 
 
 (Sonnet 21). 
 
 That love is merchandised, whose rich esteeming 
 The owner's tongue doth publish everywhere. 
 
 (Sonnet 102). 
 
 63. In the " Conference of Pleasure," the Discourse on 
 Fortitude, Bacon speaks of Caesar, when assassinated, 
 *' as a stag at bay." Antony uses the same language: — 
 
 Here wast thou baj-'d, brave heart. 
 
 {'Jill. C(zs. III. i. 204). 
 
 In his eloquent description of the sea-fight waged by the 
 ship Revenge against fifteen great ships of Spain, he says, 
 " This ship, for the space of fifteen hours, sat like a stag 
 among hounds at the bay." (" Life " VII. 491). 
 
 64. Bacon says that "Veritas and Bonitas differ but as 
 the seal and the print, for Truth prints Goodness." 
 Prospero, in the Tempest, expresses his infinite disgust with 
 Caliban, by the words : —
 
 TECHNICAL PHRASES. 275 
 
 Abhorred slave ! 
 Which ciny print of goodness wilt not take. 
 
 {Tempest I. ii. 351). 
 
 65. Bacon speaks of the logicians as using particular 
 instances as "Sergeants and Whifflcrs to make way and 
 room for their opinions." ("Advancement" II. xiii. 3. 
 Works III. p. 387). 
 
 Shakespeare has : — 
 
 Behold the English beach 
 Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys, 
 Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea ; 
 Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king, 
 Seems to prepare his way. — Hen. V. V. Chorus 9. 
 
 66. Bacon says, "Whatsoever science is not consonant 
 to presuppositions must pray in aid of siuiilitudes.'" 
 ("Advancement" II. xvii. 10. Works III. 407). 
 
 Shakespeare has, — 
 
 A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness, 
 
 When he for grace is kneel'd to — [Ant. & CI. V. ii. 27). 
 
 67. Bacon, writing to his Uncle, Lord Burghley, March 
 2ist, 1594, on the Queen's constant neglect of his advance- 
 ment, said, " I understood Her Majesty not only to con- 
 tinue in her delay, but ... to be retrograde, to use the 
 word apted to the highest powers." (" Life " I. 357). 
 
 The same unusual expression occurs in Shakespeare : — 
 
 Hel. — You must needs be born under Mars, 
 
 Parol. — When he was predominant ; 
 
 Hel. — When he was retrograde, I think rather. 
 
 See also Haui. I. ii. 114, — "most retrograde to our desire." 
 
 68. Bacon speaks of "fair weather " — meaning a friendly 
 and amicable state between two possible antagonists. (See 
 ^' History of Henry VII." Works VI. pp. 61, 72). 
 
 Shakespeare also has, — 
 
 But I must maka fair weatlier yet awhile 
 Till Henry be more weak and I more strong. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. V. i. 30).
 
 2/5 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 6g, Baby, meaning a doll, is found in both (as also in 
 other Elizabethan writers). 
 
 " It was the part of children to fall out about babies.''' 
 ("Henry VII." Works VI. 172). 
 
 Macbeth says, — 
 
 Protest me the bahv of a sjirl. 
 
 {Macb. III. iv. 105). 
 
 70. Bacon says of disloyal subjects of a king that "they 
 stand in his danger.'" ("Henry VII." Works VI. 36). 
 
 Portia says to Antonio :— 
 
 You stand li'ithin !iis danger do you not ? 
 
 {Men Vcn. IV. i. 180). 
 
 71. Bacon has a trick of using the word twenty to express 
 a large and indefinite number, e.g., "As for Maximihan, 
 upon twenty respects he could not have been the man."' 
 ("Henry VII." Works VI. 235). This is so frequent in 
 Shakespeare that anyone may find instances, e.g., — 
 
 Twenty of these puny Hes I'll tell. 
 
 {Mer. Veil. III. iv. 74). 
 
 72. The expression keep state — applied to the majesty of 
 a king is used by Bacon. ("Henry VII." Works VL 
 32). King Henry V. tells the French Ambassador, — 
 
 Tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, 
 
 Be like a King and show my sail of greatness. 
 
 (Hen. V. I. ii. 273). 
 
 y^. The expression " abate the edge of envy " is found in 
 Bacon's gth Essay, of " Envy," and in Rich. III. V. v. 35. 
 
 74. Bacon says, — " Every vapour or fume doth not turn 
 into a storm." (Essay 15). Shakespeare says, — 
 
 Every cloud engenders not a storm. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. V. iii. 13). 
 
 75. Bacon says that bad officers, and other false and 
 corrupt servants, " set a bias upon their bowl of their owa
 
 POPULAR AND COMMON. 277 
 
 petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their master's 
 great and important affairs." (Essay 23). 
 
 Shakespeare also says of Commodity (or self-interest) 
 that it is the "bias of the world" — "this vile drawing 
 bias." {John II. ii. 574, 577). 
 
 76. There is a strong family resemblance as well as a 
 striking identity in phraseology between the following 
 passages. Bacon, writing to Egerton in 1597, says, "The 
 place I have in reversion is but like another man's ground 
 reaching upon my house, which may mend my prospect 
 but it doth not fill my barn." (" Life " II. 61). 
 
 Falstaff and Ford, disguised as Brooke, in conference 
 about Brooke's design on Mistress Ford, converse as 
 follows : — 
 
 Fal. — Of what quality was your love, then ? 
 
 Ford. — Like a fair house built on another man's ground, so that I 
 
 have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where I 
 
 erected it. 
 
 {Merry Wives II. ii. 223). 
 
 77. Bacon's references to popularity are sometimes made 
 with a very technical use of the words " common " and 
 "popular." Writing to Essex he says, "I reckon myself 
 as a common (not popular but common), and as much as is 
 lawful to be enclosed of a common, so much your Lordship 
 shall be sure to have." Much the same toying with the 
 words is found in Love's Labour's Lost II. i. 223: — "Not so 
 gentle beast ; my lips are no common, though several they 
 be." Boyet having just offered to kiss her and pasture, 
 like a sheep, on her lips. 
 
 Pistol asks the disguised King, — 
 
 Art thou officer ? Or art thou base, common and popular. 
 
 {Hen. V. IV. i. 37). 
 
 Your sauciness will jest upon my love 
 And make a common of my serious hours. 
 
 {Com. Er. II. ii. 28). 
 
 Why should my heart think that a several plot
 
 278 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Which my heart knows the wide world's common place ? 
 
 (Sonnet 137). 
 
 Bacon had a great aversion to mere popularity, and 
 Shakespeare shared the same aversion. 
 
 " Let mihtary persons be assured and well reputed of, 
 rather than factious and popular." (Essay of " Seditions "). 
 
 "A popular judge is a deformed thing, and plaudites are 
 fitter for players than for magistrates." (" Life " VL 211). 
 
 King Henry reproaches his son that he had, like Richard, 
 "enfeoff'd himself to popularity." (i Hen. IV. 111. ii. 69). 
 And the Archbishop of Canterbury refers to the prince 
 before he ascended the throne, as having associated with 
 "Companies unlettered, rude and shallow," and never 
 noted for "any sequestration from open haunts and popu- 
 larity." (Hen V. I. i. 55). 
 
 78. Bacon frequently refers to Adrian as "the most curious 
 man that ever hved and the most universal enquirer, inso- 
 much as it was noted for an error in his mind, that he 
 desired to comprehend all things, and not to reserve him- 
 self for the worthiest things. Falling into the like humour 
 that was long before noted in Philip of Macedon, who 
 when he would needs overrule and put down an excellent 
 musician in an argument touching music, was well 
 answered by him again, ' God forbid, Sir,' saith he, 'that 
 your fortune should be so bad as to know these things 
 better than L'" (Works IH. 230. Apop. 159). 
 
 The same story was evidently present to the poet of 
 Love's Labour's Lost. Biron, the aristocrat, and Costard, 
 the clown, disputing about the number of actors to be 
 employed in acting, Biron says. 
 
 By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. 
 Costard. — O Lord, Sir, it were pity you should get \-our living by 
 
 reckoning, Sir ! 
 
 (Love's Labour's Lost V. ii. 493). 
 
 The special occupation referred to in connection with 
 reckoning is that of a tapster, elsewhere thus noted : —
 
 A BACONIAN ESSAY. 2/9 
 
 I am ill at reckoning ; it fits the spirit of a tapster. 
 
 {Love's Laboiti's Lost I. ii. 42). 
 
 And in many other places reckoning and the occupation of 
 a tapster are associated, as a mean occupation. 
 
 79. Timon of Athens appears to reflect the sense of injury 
 and misfortune which Bacon felt after his fall. In 1622 he 
 wrote to the Lord Treasurer, "Your Lordship hath great- 
 ness, and I hope you will line it with goodness." (" Life " 
 Vn. 396). 
 
 We can hear an echo of this in the appeal of Alcibiades : 
 
 O my lords, 
 As you are great, be pitifully good. 
 
 {Timon III. v. 51). 
 
 80. One of the rules which Bacon lays down in his Essay 
 on "Travel," for Travellers is, "Let him sequester him- 
 self from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such 
 places where there is good company of the nation where he 
 travelleth." Rosalind gives Jacques similar advice, as he 
 IS taking his departure : — 
 
 Farewell, Monsieur Traveller. Look you lisp, and wear strange 
 suits ; disable all the benefits of your own country ; be out of love 
 with your nativity. — As You Like It IV. i. 32. 
 
 To all these, which might be almost indefinitely 
 multiplied, let me give a specimen of "Baconian thought 
 in Baconian language." The following might easily be 
 added to Bacon's Essays. As Falstaff is speaking, there is 
 necessarily a jesting colour in the words ; but if the levity 
 were eliminated, I defy anyone to distinguish the style 
 from that of the Essays. Mr. Justice Shallow's behaviour 
 is the topic : — 
 
 " It is a wonderful thing (i) to see the semblable coherence of his 
 men's spirits and his : they, by observing of him, do bear themselves 
 like foolish justices ; he, by conversing with them, is turned into a 
 ustice-like serving-man. (2) Their spirits are so married in con- 
 unction with the participation (3) of society, that they Hock together 
 in concent (4) like so many wild geese. If I had a suit to Master
 
 280 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near 
 their master : if to his men I would curry with Master Shallow that 
 no man could better command his servants. (5) It is certain (6) 
 that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take 
 diseases (7) one of another. Therefore (8), let men take heed of 
 their company." (2 Hen. IV. v. i. near the end). 
 
 1. // is a wonderful thing, — Bacon's often recurring 
 phrase, It is strange. 
 
 2. "To attain good forms of behaviour, it almost 
 sufficeth not to despise them ; for so shall a man observe 
 them in others, and let him trust himself with the rest." 
 Essay of "Ceremonies." See also the letter to Rutland, 
 Vol. II., and the whole of chap. VIII. Bacon's "Sartor 
 Resartus," 
 
 3. "In manners or behaviour 3'our Lordship must not 
 be . . . infected with custom, which makes us keep our 
 own ill graces, and participate of those we see every day." 
 ("Life" II. 10). The same idea is repeated in many 
 passages in Shakespeare. Ex. gr. : — 
 
 Did I but suspect a fearful man, 
 He should have leave to go away betimes, 
 Lest, in our need, he might infect another, 
 And make him of like spirit to himself. 
 
 (3 Hen. 17. V. iv. see 39 — 49). 
 
 4. Concent, — vocal unison. " In concent, where tongue- 
 strings, not heart-strings make the music, that harmony 
 may end in discord." (" Life " IV. 177). 
 
 5. " If you would work any man, you must either know 
 his nature or his fashions, and so lead him ; or his ends, 
 and so persuade him ; ... or those that have interest in 
 him, and so govern him." 
 
 "Timing of that suit is the principal thing: timing, I 
 say, not only in respect of the person who should grant it, 
 but in respect of those who are likely to cross it." 
 
 "Let a man in the choice of his mean rather choose the 
 fittest mean than the greatest mean."
 
 CERTAINLY, AND ITS VARIATIONS. 281 
 
 See, throughout, the Essays of "Negotiation," and of 
 " Suitors." 
 
 6. It is certain. The most superficial reader of Bacon's 
 Essays must have noticed how frequently this phrase 
 occurs. Certainly, or, It is certain, is found 67 times in 
 40 of the Essays. Variations of this phrase are abundant. 
 Such phrases as the following occur over 120 times : — 
 Without all question. Out of question. There is no 
 question. It is a safe conclusion. It is manifest. It is 
 often seen. It is commonly seen. This never fails. No 
 doubt. It cannot be denied. Indeed. It is an assured sign. 
 
 This trick of composition is so excessively used as, it 
 seems to me, to amount to a fault, — the one solitary 
 blemish in a peerless, perfect style. 
 
 Precisely the same trick is found in Shakespeare, and 
 that with other variations. 
 
 The two phrases, It is certain, and. That's infallible, occur 
 close together in a rather unquotable passage in Measure 
 for Measure III. ii. 107. 
 
 The trick runs riot in such a speech as " Yes, certainly, 
 and out of doubt, and out of question too, and 
 ambiguities." Hen. V. V. i. 41, — spoken by the some- 
 what pedagogic Welshman, Fluellen. 
 
 The same rather sportive tossing about of these 
 Baconian phrases is seen in the following : — 
 
 Therefore be out of liope, of question, of doubt, 
 Be certain ; nothing truer ; 'tis no jest 
 That I do hate thee and love Helena. 
 
 {M.N.D. III. ii. 279). 
 
 The first scene in the Merchant of Venice has the phrases 
 "Out of doubt " (twice i. 20, 155) " I am very sure" (97). 
 "Questionless" (176) and "no question" (184). 
 
 The phrase must crop up, even if it is twisted into 
 caricature. Here are some variations : — 
 
 It is, in contempt of question, her hand. 
 
 {Twelfth Xight II. v. 97).
 
 282 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Aye surely, mere the truth. 
 
 {All's Well III. V. 58). 
 
 Truly to speak, and with no addition. 
 
 {Ham. IV. iv. 17). 
 
 Out of question, so it is sometimes. 
 
 {Love's Labours Lost IV. i. 30). 
 
 To sax the tntth. 
 
 {Cor. IV. vi. 143). 
 
 His fears out of doubt be of the same relish as ours are. 
 
 {Hen. V. IV. i. 113). 
 
 I should questionless be fortunate. 
 
 {Mer. V.l.i. 176). 
 
 That ever holds. 
 
 {Mer. F. II. vi. 8). 
 
 These phrases in Shakespeare impart a heaviness to the 
 style which is characteristic of Bacon's, when he is most 
 severe and didactic. So far as my reading of Elizabethan 
 literature goes, the same phrases, habitually employed, are 
 not to be found in any other writer. 
 
 7. The ethical therefore — announcing a conclusion, not 
 of logic, but of morals or prudence, is Bacon's habitual 
 formula in passing from theory or observation to practice, 
 or morals. 
 
 It would be easy to quote other specimens of Baconian 
 Essays, but this may suffice. It seems to me absolutely 
 impossible for anyone but Bacon to have written the Essay 
 on " Behaviour," which I have quoted. Falstaff's Essay 
 on " Sack " is equally Baconian. 2 Hen. IV. IV. iii. In 
 fact, in the purely intellectual side of his nature, Falstaff 
 and Bacon resemble one another — are like twin brothers, 
 one of whom is wild, the other steady. 
 
 For a Shakespearean specimen of Bacon's Antitheta— 
 such as are given in great abundance in De Aug. VI. iii., — 
 take the following : —
 
 ANTITHETA. 
 
 283 
 
 Grief in Misfortune. 
 
 Agamst. 
 
 1. Grief, which rests on hope 
 of remedy, ceases when we know 
 the worst. 
 
 2. Lamentation for what is 
 past is the most likely way of 
 bringing on new calamity. 
 
 3. When fortune takes what 
 cannot be preserved, patience 
 makes a mockery of the injury. 
 
 4. The man who is robbed, and 
 yet remains cheerful, steals from 
 the thief who has robbed him. 
 
 5. By a useless expenditure of 
 grief, a man robs himself. 
 
 (6. Excessive grief for the dead 
 is an enemy to the living). 
 
 For. 
 
 1. Smiling at a loss does not 
 recover what is lost. 
 
 2. One who is sentenced hears 
 more than the gratuitous senti- 
 ments of consolation which ac- 
 company the sentence. 
 
 3. If much patience is neces- 
 sary, the pains of patience are 
 added to the sorrows of the 
 penalty. 
 
 4. Words of comfort are either 
 sweet as sugar, or bitter as gall, 
 according as they are taken. 
 
 5. There is no comfort in mere 
 words ; — the bruises of the heart 
 cannot be reached through the 
 ear. 
 
 (6. Moderate lamentation is 
 the right of the dead). 
 
 This group may be compared with the speeches of the 
 Duke and of Brabantio in Othello I. iii. 202. (See also 
 AWs Well I. i. 48). 
 
 There is a small but very characteristic set on Fear : — 
 This is scarcely altered from Tro. Crcs. III. ii. 66-72. 
 
 Pro. 
 
 1. Blind fear, that seeing rea- 
 son leads, fmds safer footing than 
 blind reason, stumbling witliout 
 fear. 
 
 2, To fear the worst often cures 
 the worse. 
 
 Con. 
 
 I. Fear makes devils of cheru- 
 bins ; they never see clearly. 
 
 2. Apprehend no fear. In all 
 Cupid's pageant there is pre- 
 sented no monster. 
 
 Mr. Spedding says: — "I doubt whether there are five
 
 284 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN HACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 lines together which are to be found in Bacon which could 
 be mistaken for Shakespeare, or five lines in Shakespeare 
 which could be mistaken for Bacon by one who was 
 familiar with the several styles, and practised in such 
 observation." 
 
 Well, granting that Bacon's style of writing morals and 
 science and philosophy was not likely to resemble that of 
 any play writer, I think the moral Essay from 2 Henry IV. 
 V. i., which I have quoted, contains more than live hues 
 which might easily be taken for Bacon masquerading as a 
 merry and jesting knight. This is a test which may be 
 within certain limits accepted, but it need not be pushed 
 to the extreme of mistaking one for the other. Bacon 
 pleading in court and Bacon speaking in Parliament or 
 writing the Novum Organum might easily be taken not to 
 be the same man. These styles are quite as different as 
 either from Shakespeare, and yet there is no difficulty 
 in accepting all as belonging to one man. If the test 
 is fairly used, I contend that there are plenty of 
 prose passages in Bacon and plenty of verse or 
 prose in Shakespeare, which for stateliness of language, 
 affluence of thought, elevation of sentiment, depth of 
 meaning, felicity of metaphor, sparkle of antithesis and 
 general force and beauty of style, are equally characteristic 
 of both writers, assuming the separation. Hotspur's speech 
 at the beginning of i Henry IV. II. iii. is a case in point, 
 and there are many passages in Bacon which, by a little 
 lawful manipulation, may easily be turned into good 
 Shakespearean verse. The whole Essay of " Adversity " 
 might be thus presented, — and has been. (See Paper by the 
 Author on " Bacon as a Poet," Trans, of Royal Soc. of 
 Lit,, Feb, 1893). There is a good deal of Baconian prose 
 in the speeches of the Lord Chief Justice, 2 Hen. IV. I. ii. 
 
 There is a great collection of Antitheta, spoken 
 antiphonall}^ by Gaunt and Bolingbroke, in reference to 
 Bolingbroke's banishment ; Gaunt speaks on the pro side ; 
 his son on the contra. (See Rich. II. I. iii. 258, &c.).
 
 ANTITHETA ON BANISHMENT. 
 
 28 = 
 
 Pro. 
 
 1 . Thy grief is but thy absence 
 for a time. 
 
 2. What is six winters ? they 
 are quickly gone. 
 
 3. Call it a travel which thou 
 takest for pleasure. 
 
 4. The sullen passage of thy 
 weary steps I' Esteem as foil, 
 wherein thou art to set !| The 
 precious jewel of ih}' home 
 return. 
 
 5. All places tliat the eye of 
 heaven visits ;| Are to the wise 
 man ports and happy havens. 
 
 6. There is no virtue like 
 necessity. 
 
 7. Think not the King doth 
 banish thee [ But thou the King. 
 
 8. Love doth the heavier sit 'j 
 Where it perceives it is but 
 faintly borne. 
 
 9. Go, say I sent thee forth to 
 purchase honour ]| And not the 
 King exiled thee. 
 
 10. Suppose devouring pestil- 
 ence hangs in our air |i And thou 
 art flying to a fresher clime. 
 
 11. Look, what thy soul holds 
 dear, imagine it f To be that way 
 thou gocst, nor whence thou 
 comest. 
 
 12. Gnarling sorrow hath less 
 power to bite !; The man that 
 mocks at it, and sets it light. 
 
 Con. 
 
 1. Joy absent, grief is present 
 for that time. 
 
 2. To men in joy : — but grief 
 makes one hour ten. 
 
 3. My heart will sigh when I 
 miscall it so, I[ Which finds it an 
 enforced pilgrimage. 
 
 4. Nay, rather every tedious 
 stride I make i| Will but remem- 
 ber me, what a deal of world, i| 
 I wander from the jewels that I 
 love. 
 
 5. O who can hold a lire in his 
 hand [j By thinking on the frosty 
 Caucasus. 
 
 6. The apprehension of the 
 good [i Gives but the greater 
 feeling to the worse. 
 
 7. Fell sorrow's tooth doth 
 never rankle more •'■ Than when 
 he bites, but lanceth not the sore..
 
 286 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SCHOLARSHIP OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 The classic knowledge and the classic diction of Shake- 
 speare have caused much perplexity to his critics and 
 biographers. That such a classic element exists — classic 
 learning, and even more obviously, a classic aroma, a 
 flavour or tone distinctive of classic culture, not to be 
 otherwise acquired — is obvious to the most superficial 
 observer, and becomes increasingly evident as the poems 
 are more carefully studied. The perplexity thus occasioned 
 is shown by the contradictory ways m which the classic 
 element is treated. Some critics, such as Richard Grant 
 White, Cowden Clarke, and Charles Knight, frankly 
 acknowledge it, and do not profess to explain it, or 
 attempt to explain it away. Other critics, such as Leigh 
 Hunt and Professor Baines, admit it and seek to account 
 for it. Others deny it altogether. 
 
 Leigh Hunt makes no attempt to resist the proof of 
 Shakespeare's learning, and thinks that Milton, singing of 
 "native wood-notes wild " issuing from "sweetest Shake- 
 speare fancy's child," spoke "without due reflection;" the 
 words were, he thinks, " hastily said by a learned man of an 
 unlearned." It is true, however, that Leigh Hunt accepts 
 the current notions of Shakespeare's education : in his time 
 they had not been questioned, and consequently he is 
 betrayed into an absurdity as gross as Milton's. "Shake- 
 speare," he says, "though he had not a College education, 
 was as learned as any man, in the highest sense of the word, 
 — by a scholarly intuition ; he had the spirit of learning." 
 
 It is strange how inevitably the wisest critics, — for
 
 SHAKESPEARE NOT FANCY'S CHILD. 287 
 
 among these we must reckon Leigh Hunt — talk in a self- 
 contradictory and irrational way when they attempt to 
 account for Shakespeare's scholarship, while admitting that 
 he had not much education. One would like to know the 
 exact process of becoming "learned by scholarly intuition ;" 
 and what this exactly means. The psychology of the case 
 is somewhat obscure. Somehow it seems to be implied 
 that there is some method by which all the results of classic 
 scholarship can be acquired without the scholarship itself. 
 
 Leigh Hunt proceeds: "He could anticipate Milton's 
 own Greek and Latin — 
 
 "Tortive and errant from his course of growth." 
 "The multitudinous seas incarnadine." 
 "A pudency so rosy," etc. 
 
 " In fact, if Shakespeare's poetry has any fault it is that 
 of being too learned, too over-informed with thought and 
 allusion. His ' wood-notes wild ' surpass Haydn and Bach. 
 His wild roses were all twenty times double." This is, of 
 course, excellent criticism, and completely disposes of 
 Milton's uncritical lines. 
 
 The poet most assuredly was no untutored child of 
 nature, but a scholar and a man of the world — not an 
 unconscious, spontaneous warbler of wild wood-notes, but 
 the accomplished performer on a vast and complicated 
 instrument, governing all the stops, and manuals, and 
 pedals of a mighty organ, capable of gentlest diapason or 
 resounding peals — now whispering the softest and simplest 
 flute-notes of Arcady, now thundering forth in majestic 
 trumpet tones the largest themes of the great world, — the 
 music alternately swelling and subsiding, as joy and sad- 
 ness, laughter and tears, passion and aspiration, youth and 
 age, pour forth their appropriate melodies and harmonies: 
 always indeed in touch with Nature, but always giving 
 most perfect utterances to the choicest themes of refined 
 and cultivated art. 
 
 According to Professor Baines, the ordinary grammar
 
 288 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 schools of the sixteenth century were little classic 
 Academes, where favoured students acquired the choicest 
 culture that could be derived from the rarest fruits of 
 ancient history, poetry, and philosophy. Crcdat Judausl 
 
 Other critics — and the large majority — deny scholarship 
 altogether, and endeavour to explain away the apparent 
 indications of it. The classic tone and diction are not to be 
 accounted for except by drawing upon the infinite capa- 
 bilities and possibilities of genius, whose shoulders are 
 supposed to be broad enough to bear, like Atlas, not only 
 the round world, but all the fulness thereof, including 
 Alexandrine, Bodleian, and British Museum libraries. 
 
 It is not a little remarkable that so sane and well- 
 informed an annotator as Cowden Clarke should resort to 
 this theory of quasi supernaturalism in accounting for the 
 learning of Shakespeare. In commenting on the words — 
 
 The ruddy drops that visit my sad lieart, 
 
 [Jul Cms. II. i. 289) 
 
 this learned and sagacious critic says: — 
 
 " It has been said that in these glowing words Shake- 
 speare has anticipated Harvey's discovery of the circulation 
 of the blood, which was made in 1608. The poet's 
 intuition taught him many secrets of nature as yet un- 
 promulgated by science to the world, as well as many of 
 those known only to adepts in their several branches of 
 science; and that he had intuitive perception on the sub- 
 ject of the blood's course through the body, witness not 
 only the present passage, but also that gloriously expressive 
 one \n Alcas. Mcas. II. iv., where Anglo exclaims: 'Oh, 
 heavens ! why does my blood thus muster to my heart ? ' " 
 etc.* So far as classic knowledge is explained, it might be 
 
 '- I cannot help thinking that Mr. and Mrs. Cowden Clarke had a 
 shrewd suspicion, which they would not distinctly express, that the 
 Stratford rustic was not the real Shakespeare. See their note to the 
 passage in Mcas. Mcas. III. i. 118 — quoted in Chap. XIV., — under the 
 section Delated.
 
 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 289 
 
 supposed that this appeal to the wonder-working powers 
 of genius might supersede all other explanations. But it 
 is not so. The classic knowledge which cannot be 
 attributed to creative genius, — since what is once created 
 cannot be created over again, even by the omnipotence of 
 
 Ay, but to die, and go we know not where 
 
 . . . The delated [instead of delighted] spirit, &c. 
 
 One of the reasons for preferring delated is Bacon's use of the 
 same word. 
 
 A still more significant note is found in their commentary on the 
 following passage : — 
 
 Shallow.— By yea and nay, sir, I daresay my cousin William is 
 become a good scholar; he is at Oxford still, is he not ? 
 Silence. — Indeed, sir, to my cost. 
 
 S!talhu\ — He must then to the Inns of Court shortly. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. III. ii. 10). 
 On this Cowden Clarke remarks : — 
 
 " This passage shows that a University education was a usual pre- 
 paratory step in studying at one or other of the Inns of Court, and 
 it gives ground to our belief that very probably Shakespeare may 
 have been a collegian at one of the Universities, and may have sub- 
 sequently kept terms at one of the Inns of Court. Still, however, we 
 are willing to allow that with one of his miraculous ability [always 
 miraculous !] in availing himself of knowledge acquired through 
 intercourse with others, it would have sufficed him to be acquainted 
 with young men who had thus studied at College and at an Inn of 
 Court to become versed in many particulars known to them by their 
 experience." 
 
 Obviously a keen observer and good listener might learn as much 
 as this passage indicates of the sequence of law study and Univer- 
 sity study. But if so, why suggest that Shakespeare himself had 
 passed through the double curriculum ? The extreme improbabilit}' 
 of William Shakespeare's having ever studied either at Oxford or 
 at any school of law must have been obvious to these very learned 
 Shakespeareans. Clearly the necessity for university training is forced 
 upon the commentator by the learning in classics shown by the 
 dramatist, the accuracy and extent of which is frequently noted b}- 
 Cowden Clarke. See also Notes quoted in the sections on Conversa- 
 tion, — Dissemble, — Artificial, (Chap. XIV.). 
 
 V
 
 290 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 genius, — is supposed to have been derived from translations, 
 or from companionship with scholars, or by a sort of eaves- 
 dropping overhearing of learned talk, or from association 
 with the world of culture and refinement ; and the aim of 
 these critics is to show that there is no classic knowledge 
 in Shakespeare which might not have been acquired in 
 some of these ways. 
 
 And yet, after all, the actual knowledge we possess of 
 William Shakespeare, his life, his parentage, his ante- 
 cedents, his associates, his family and townsmen, all point 
 to the conclusion that he was either entirely uneducated 
 or very imperfectly educated : that his Latin was small, 
 his Greek less, and his pure English least of all : that such 
 handwriting as his could never have figured on a Univer- 
 sity Examination paper; that his whole life was too full of 
 business, too devoted to money, to leave any extensive 
 opportunities for study, or for large, broad world-covering 
 experience. So that the labour of the biographers is very 
 often devoted to the very hopeless task of proving, not 
 that he was a learned man, but a very ignorant one. His 
 classic knowledge is minimized; his mistakes and in- 
 accuracies magnified; his classic allusions are traced to 
 actual or presumed translations, or to contemporary litera- 
 ture. All sorts of fanciful additions are made to his 
 biography. He was a schoolmaster, a lawyer, a traveller in 
 Scotland and Italy, a diligent frequenter of the law courts; 
 he was intimate with aristocrats and all the best society of 
 his time (of course, including Bacon); he spent his vaca- 
 tions in foreign travel — doubtless travelling in a Pullman 
 car on a corridor train ! He is permitted access to all sorts 
 unpublished literature, especially to MS. translations of 
 the classics. North's Plutarch covers a large tract of 
 allusion territory; and whatever conclusions one may form 
 respecting the poet's scholarship, there can be no difficulty 
 in recognising his obligations to translated Plutarch or 
 other writers, if the obligation is clearly indicated. But if 
 this is once admitted, the inference is instantly made, that
 
 W. S. CERTAINLY NOT A SCHOLAR. 29I 
 
 all the classic learning must be explained in the same way 
 — that if translations are not known they must be assumed 
 — and that all who think otherwise are to be excluded 
 from the ranks of superior people, and banished to the 
 country of the Philistines. 
 
 Neither the logic nor the temper of this sort of reason- 
 ing is very commendable. For while antecedent pro- 
 babilities, and inferences from known facts all favour the 
 opinion that William Shakspere was not a learned man, at 
 the same time the unbiassed, uncritical reader of the poems 
 must inevitably conclude that the Poet was a learned man, 
 and that neither genius, nor goodfellowship, nor cribs can 
 account for the classic element in his writings. That a 
 stage manager at the close of the sixteenth century, a man 
 full of theatrical business, — and no one knows what other 
 money-making pursuits, — full also of domestic cares, with 
 a family in a distant county, removed from London by some 
 six score miles and a three days' journey, dependent upon 
 him for support, — a man brought up in a remote country 
 town, a bookless district, quite out of touch with the best 
 intellectual life of the cultured classes, — belonging to a 
 family and a neighbourhood where even reading and writ- 
 ing were exceptional accomplishments, even among the 
 most respectable and influential townsmen, — whose 
 children signed their name with a rude mark, — whose own 
 writing was so execrably bad, so unmistakably rustic and 
 plebeian, that one may reasonably doubt whether his pen- 
 manship extended beyond the capability of signing his 
 name to a business document, — that such a man could be 
 also a man of wide and deep culture, of varied experience, 
 with access not only to the best, but to the obscurest and 
 least studied literature of the ancient world, — all this seems 
 absolutely impossible. The arguments used to traverse 
 this very strong presumptive evidence ought to be very 
 strong and well authenticated. On the contrary, they are 
 to the last degree feeble and fanciful in their quality, and 
 .speculative in their evidence, and are moreover refuted by
 
 292 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 their self - contradictory and mutually inconsistent 
 character : by the concurrent arguments of some critics to 
 shew that the poet was not a learned man, and of others 
 that there are good grounds for supposing that he was. 
 
 I think there can be no doubt that if there were no con- 
 troversial necessity for maintaining that William Shakspere 
 was a very imperfectly educated man, if it could be proved 
 that he belonged to the cultured classes, had passed his life 
 amidst books and learned men, had had a university educa- 
 tion and acquired a complete mastery of the classic 
 languages and literature, and was able to read, write, 
 speak and think in Latin, no one would hesitate to accept 
 the very strong indications of scholarship in the poems as 
 perfectly consistent with such authorship, — as entirely 
 characteristic of such antecedents and training. All the 
 arguments used to disprove scholarship are strained, the 
 forced pleadings for a foregone conclusion, by an advocate 
 who knows that he has a weak case, and that conclusive 
 evidence in support of it does not exist. 
 
 The evidence that the true Shakespeare — the real author 
 of the plays and poems, — was a classic scholar, is many 
 sided and of various kinds : and if his unscholared author- 
 ship is to be proved, it is not enough to explain the origin of 
 particular passages, — the whole evidence must be taken 
 broadly and comprehensively. This evidence may be 
 gathered into four different classes. 
 
 I. First, the classic allusions must be considered, — 
 passages evidently suggested by parallel passages in 
 classical writers. These are very numerous, and they are 
 by no means confined to the classic plays, — nor are they 
 always essential to the construction of the plays in which 
 they occur. They are not such a use of classic knowledge 
 as can be explained by cram or coaching for the special 
 occasion. They are spontaneous outpourings from a well- 
 stored mind, ready to give out its wealth at all times of 
 discourse, — quite incapable of producing anything dressed 
 in a plain home-spun garb, — forced by the necessities of its.
 
 INDICATIONS OF SCHOLARSHIP. 293 
 
 own culture to supply allusive decoration or learned 
 plumage. Classic embellishment of this kind must be taken 
 as a prima facie indication of classic scholarship in the 
 writer. 
 
 2. Next, it must be admitted that the classical plays give 
 the same indications as all the rest, of classic knowledge 
 and tone, with the additional evidence derived from their 
 subject matter. It is, of course, possible that the special 
 study required, in order to collect material for these plays, 
 may have been undertaken by a clever student not other- 
 wise skilled in classic lore, an ingenious appropriator of the 
 information to be derived from translations. This explana- 
 tion, however, is not easy. After Plutarch has been 
 emptied of his treasures, the mode in which they are 
 appropriated and assimilated shews a mind familiar with the 
 classic region — not averse to the use of translations in 
 order to save time and trouble, but quite able to dispense 
 with them, or to go beyond and outside of them. The 
 classic aroma in these classic plays is not easily accounted 
 for by coaching explanations. 
 
 3. A good many instances of classic construction are to 
 be found,^ — sentences cast in grammatical forms not properly 
 speaking English at all, which require to be parsed or 
 construed by the Latin grammar. Such a style could not 
 have been acquired by a mere English scholar. No 
 writer, however well-informed, could have written them 
 unless he had been accustomed to the use of the Latin 
 language as a medium of expression for his own 
 thoughts, or had read extensively and with facility in 
 Latin literature. 
 
 4. This kind of evidence is still further heightened by 
 the frequent use of Latin words, — or words which, although 
 English (perhaps even very familiar in vernacular usage) 
 are yet derived from the Latin, and are so used as to show 
 that the w^^iter is not limited by their imported significance, 
 but can follow them into the wider and more varied range 
 of meaning, or else into the different and more restricted
 
 294 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 meanings, which they possess in their original form. This 
 also is evidence which cannot be disposed of by any appeal 
 to translations. It shews that the writer could use the Latin 
 language as a mother, or perhaps stepmother, tongue, — 
 could probably read, write and think in it, and had been 
 accustomed to employ it in all these ways. 
 
 I cannot pretend to give the evidence for all this classic 
 scholarship in its entireness. That demanded by the first 
 and second of these methods of classic self-expression I 
 can but briefly glance at. Only a very profound scholar 
 could do justice to these branches of the subject, — and 
 probably no single critic could do it exhaustively. To 
 such qualifications I make no pretence. The mass of 
 evidence already collected might occupy a very consider- 
 able volume. I will, however, give specimens of all these 
 classes of evidences — and especially the last, that depend- 
 ing on the use of words which cannot be fully explained 
 without a reference to classic usage. 
 
 I. First, I will give a few specimens of classic allusion 
 which could not have been easily introduced by an un- 
 learned writer incapable of consulting original sources. 
 
 The writer must have studied Plato, and drunk deeply of 
 Platonic philosophy in the original sources. Platonic 
 thought is unmistakably present in the following 
 passage : — 
 
 The beauty that is borne here in the face 
 
 The bearer knows not, lout commends itself 
 
 To other's eyes : nor doth the eye itself, 
 
 That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself, 
 
 Not going from itself : but eye to eye opposed 
 
 Salutes each other with each other's form ; 
 
 For speculation turns not to itself, 
 
 Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there 
 
 Where it may see itself. {Tro. Cr. III. iii. 103). 
 
 On this passage Richard Grant White makes the follow- 
 ing significant comment: — "The old copies, in the last 
 line, have 'Married there.' The reading 'is mirror'd
 
 PLATO'S PHILOSOPHY. 295 
 
 there ' was found on the margin of Mr. Collier's folio, and 
 of Mr. Singer's, and was adopted in my first edition. This 
 was done upon the merits of the emendation alone : it 
 seems to be required. But it is confirmed, made impera- 
 tive, it would seem, by the following passage in Plato's 
 First Alcibiades ; which, however, I bring forward here, not 
 chiefly for that purpose,, but to direct attention to a 
 similarity of thought and expression between it and 
 Achilles' speech, which seems quite inexplicable except on 
 the supposition that Shakespeare was acquainted with 
 what Plato wrote. ' We may take the analogy of the eye. 
 The eye sees not itself, but from some other thing, for 
 instance, a mirror. But the eye can see itself also by 
 reflection in another eye ; not by looking at any other part 
 of a man, but at the eye only.' Whewell, in his note on 
 this passage, commends its beauty, but makes no allusion 
 to the passage in Troilus and Cressida in which the self- 
 same thought is expressed." It occurs also in Julius 
 CcBsar : — 
 
 Brutus. — No, Cassius, for the eye sees not thyself, 
 
 But by reflection, — by some other things." 
 
 {Jul. CiVS. I. ii. 52). 
 
 This is a most interesting criticism, and I think it might 
 have been strengthened by the addition of other lines from 
 the same colloquy between Brutus and Cassius. To this 
 speech by Brutus, Cassius responds : — 
 
 'Tis just : 
 And it is very much lamented, Brutus, 
 That you have no such mirrors as will turn 
 Your hidden worthiness into your eye, 
 That you might see your shadow . . . 
 And since you know you cannot see yourself 
 So well as by reflection, I, your glass, 
 Will modestly discover to yourself 
 That of yourself which you yet know not of. 
 
 (//). 54—70). 
 
 The resemblance between Plato and Shakespeare is
 
 2g6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 evidently perfect ; and as Plato was not translated when 
 Shakespeare was living, the conclusion is almost forced 
 upon us that the poet must have read Plato in the 
 original Greek. 
 
 Every reader of Bacon must be familiar with his 
 frequent use of the symbolism derived from a mirror or a 
 glass. It is constantly repeated : one specimen may 
 suffice. Commenting on the proverb, which he freely 
 translates (and more) — " As the face is reflected in the 
 water, so is the heart of man manifest to the wise," he 
 remarks: — " This comparison of the mind of a wise man 
 to a glass is the more proper ; because in a glass he can 
 see his own image together with the images of others, 
 which the eye itself without a glass cannot do." {De Aug. 
 Lib. VIII. cap. ii. Works V. 55). 
 
 The same imagery is constant in Shakespeare : the 
 Platonic idea pervades the 24th Sonnet. 
 
 Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath stell'd 
 Thy beauty's form in table of my heart 
 
 Mine eyes have drawn thv shape, and thine for me 
 Are windows to ni}- breast, wliere-through the sun 
 Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee. 
 
 The same Platonic philosophy is seen in the following : — 
 
 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; 
 And out of you she sees herself more proper 
 Than any of her lineaments can shew her. 
 
 {As You Like It III. V. 54). 
 
 — the sentiment of which is identical with that of the 
 Essay of " Love." " For, whereas it hath been well said 
 that the arch-flatterer, with whom all the petty flatterers 
 have intelligence, is a man's self, certainly the lover is more. 
 For there was never a proud man thought so absurdly well 
 of himself as the lover doth of the person loved." 
 
 This, however, is not the only Platonic reflection which 
 has been found in Shakespeare. In Hen. V. I. ii. 180 — 213,
 
 PLATO. CICERO. ST. AUGUSTINE. 2g7 
 
 there is a most profound and philosophic discussion of the 
 mutual dependence of different offices and functions in a 
 government, which is compared to the structure of a 
 harmonic combination in music ; and to the mutual sub- 
 ordination of honey bees in their Republic. This idea is 
 taken from a portion of Cicero's long lost treatise De 
 Repnhlicd, a fragment of which is preserved by St. 
 Augustine. Charles Knight, in his note on the Hen. V. 
 passage says : — 
 
 "The words of Cicero, to which the lines in Shake- 
 speare have so close a resemblance, form part of a frag- 
 ment of that portion of his lost treatise De Rcpublicd, which 
 is preserved for us only in the writings of St. Augustine. 
 The first question therefore is, — Had Shakespeare read the 
 fragment in St. Augustine ? But Cicero's De Republicd was, 
 so far as we know, an adaptation of Plato's Republic. 
 The sentence we have quoted is almost literally to be 
 found in Plato ; and, what is still more curious, the lines 
 of Shakespeare are more deeply imbued with Platonic 
 philosophy than the passage of Cicero. . . . They 
 develop unquestionably the great Platonic doctrine of the 
 Tri-unity of the three great principles in man with the 
 idea of a State. The particular passage in Plato's 
 Republic to which we refer is in Book IV., and may be 
 thus rendered: — * It is not alone wisdom and strength 
 which makes a State simply wise and strong, but it {i.e., 
 order), like that harmony called the diapason, is diffused 
 throughout the whole State, making both the weakest and 
 the strongest and the middling people concent in the same 
 melody.' Again: — 'The harmonic power of political 
 justice is the saine as that musical concent which connects 
 the three cords, the octave, the bass and the fifth." There 
 was no translation of Plato in Shakespeare's time, except 
 a single dialogue by Spenser. 
 
 The discussion in Hen. V. is thus introduced : — 
 
 For government, though high and low and lower, 
 Put into parts, doth keep in one concent
 
 298 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Coii^rcciiig in a full and natural close, 
 
 Like music. (Hen. V. I. ii. 180). 
 
 The same tripartite musical analogy is expressed in : — 
 
 Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, 
 
 Strikes each in each by mutual ordering ; 
 
 Resembling sire and child and happy mother, 
 
 Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing. 
 
 (Son. 8). 
 
 The musical analogy is a favourite one with Bacon, and 
 enters into his Philosophia prima : — " Is not the trope of 
 music, to avoid a slide from the close, or cadence, common 
 with the trope of rhetoric, of deceiving expectation." See 
 De Aug. Ill, i, Nov. Org. II. 27. Syl. Syl. 113, &c. 
 
 There are some excellent Platonic touches in the cele- 
 brated moonlight scene of the Merchant of Venice. Thus, 
 of the celestial harmonies, the poet declares : — 
 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it, 
 
 {Men V. V. i. 63). 
 
 The small pronoun it is here all-important. It is not 
 the soul which is closed up in a muddy vesture of decay, — 
 that is almost invariably the interpretation put upon these 
 exquisite lines, — the muddy vesture closes in celestial 
 harmony, so that the soul itself cannot hear the music shut 
 up in its own essence. The soul is a repository of hidden, 
 inexpressible, unrevealed knowledge or music. 
 
 Bacon tells us that this idea is Plato's. He is, he says, 
 inclined to Plato's opinion, " that the mind of man by 
 nature knoweth all things, and hath put her own native 
 and original notions (which by the strangeness and dark- 
 ness of this tabernacle of the body are sequestered) again 
 revived and restored." ("Advancement of Learning." 
 Dedication. Works III. 262). 
 
 Another Platonic echo is pointed out in Chap. IX. sect. 
 14, p. ib2, in a comment on Juliet's words, —
 
 CLASSIC ALLUSIONS. 299 
 
 ril look to love, if looking liking move. 
 
 Many other classic parallels have been pointed out, — 
 
 Lay lier i' the earth : 
 And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
 May violets spring ! 
 
 {Ham. V. i. 261). 
 
 Non nunc e manibus istis, 
 Non nunc e tumulo, fortunatdque favilla 
 Nascenter viola; ? 
 
 (Pcrsiiis). 
 
 Polonius says of Hamlet : — 
 
 Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. 
 
 {Ham. II. ii. 207). 
 
 Horace makes the same remark : — 
 
 Insanire paret certa ratione modoque. 
 
 Bacon has also a similar observation, — " Annon prorsus 
 cos dare operam ut cum ratione quadam et prudentia 
 insanirent, clamaret." Would he not cry out that they 
 were only taking pains to shew a kind of method and 
 discretion in their madness. {Nov. Org., Preface. Works 
 I. 152 ; IV. 41). 
 
 Method in madness is referred to in Meas. for Meas. V. i. 
 60-63, and Lear IV. vi. 178-g. See the quotations Chap. 
 XIV. under hnpertinency and Inequality. 
 
 In Bacon's Promus, 1055, another utterance relating to 
 madness, derived from Horace, is noted for literary use : — 
 
 Nimiruni insanus paucis videatur 
 
 Maxima pars hominum morbo laboret codem. 
 
 {Hor. Sat. II. iii. 120). 
 
 In passing, let those who are so anxious to contrast 
 Bacon's accuracy with Shakespeare's mistakes, compare 
 this quotation with the actual one, — 
 
 Nimirum insanus paucis videatur, eo quod 
 Maxima pars hominum morbo jactatur eodcm.
 
 300 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Similar instances of inaccurate quotation might be quoted 
 by hundreds : as anyone may discover by reference to 
 Reynolds' Edition of "Bacon's Essays." For the same 
 idea in Shakespeare, see Chap. XIL, No. 49, p. 267. 
 
 Tlie undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns. 
 
 {Ham. III. i. 79.) 
 
 is evidently taken from Catullus : — 
 
 Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum 
 Illuc, uncle negant redire quanquam. 
 
 There are many other quotations from Catullus. The 
 following has many points of interest. In the first 
 Parnassus Play — which is clearly of Shakespearean origin — 
 the following lines occur : — 
 
 Associate yourselves with studious youthes, 
 
 That, as Catullus saith, devours the ii'ciye 
 
 That leads to Parnassus, where content doth dwell. 
 
 (i Par. 96). 
 
 This enables us to trace the origin of a phrase in 2 Hen. IV. 
 I. i. 47, which has not hitherto been referred by any 
 commentator to its classic source ; for the poet does not 
 ostentatiously parade his latinity : — 
 
 He seem'd in running to devour tlie way. 
 
 The phrase in Catullus (xxxiii.) is, — 
 
 Quare, si sapiet, viam vorabit. 
 
 Miranda uses language taken from Catullus in speaking 
 to Ferdinand : — 
 
 I am your wife, if you will marry me, 
 If not, I'll die your maid ; to be your fellow 
 You may den}' me ; but TU be your servant, 
 Whether vou will or no. 
 
 {Tempest III. i. 83). 
 
 This is evidently a reminiscence of the following : — 
 
 Si tibi non cordi fuerant connubia nostra.
 
 CATULLUS. HORACE. VIRGIL. 3OI 
 
 Attamen in vestras potuisti ducere sedes, 
 Quas tibi jucundo familiarer serva labore, 
 Candida permulcens liquidis vestigia lymphis, 
 Purpureave tuum consternans veste cubile. 
 
 {Catullus Nup. Pel. et Tel. 158). 
 
 Adriana also borrows from Catullus : — 
 
 Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine ; 
 Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, 
 Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state. 
 Makes me with thy strength to communicate. 
 
 [Com. Er. II. ii. 175). 
 
 And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine 
 His perishing root with increasing vine. 
 
 {Cymb. IV. ii. 59). 
 
 Lenta qui velut assitas 
 
 Vitis implicat arbores 
 
 Implicabitur in tuum 
 
 Complexum. 
 
 (Catullus). 
 
 The singular frequency of allusions to Catullus gives a. 
 strong presumption that the poet was well acquainted with 
 this classic author, — a poet not usually read in schools. 
 Horace and Virgil are equally familiar to the poet. 
 
 The well-known lines, — 
 
 What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted ! 
 Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. ii, 232). 
 
 must be derived from the equally familiar lines, — 
 
 Illi robur et ves triplex 
 
 Circa pectus erat. 
 
 {Horace I. iii.). 
 
 In the following passage the classic learning is very 
 remarkable, referring as it does to usages not likely to be 
 familiar to an unlearned writer : — 
 
 Where be the sacred vials thou should'sl iill 
 
 With sorrowful water ? 
 
 {Aul. CI. I. iii. 63).
 
 302 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The poet refers to the Lacryviatores used among the 
 Greeks and Romans. The AuipullcB lacrymales are 
 mentioned by Licetus in his book, "Df Lucernis antiqiwrum 
 reconditis.''' These are singularly recondite classical 
 allusions, quite outside the highway of amateur traffic. 
 
 When ^gon begins the story of his life with, — 
 
 A heavier task could not have been hnposed' 
 Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable. 
 
 (Coin. Ei: I. i. 32). 
 
 the poet must certainly have had in his mind the well- 
 known lines of Virgil, — 
 
 Infandum, regina, jubes renovare dolorem. 
 In the same speech, when he says, 
 
 For what obscured light the heavens did grant 
 Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
 A doubtful warrant of immediate death. 
 
 (lb. 67). 
 
 the poet is reproducing Virgil's 
 
 Praesentemque vires intentant omnia mortem. 
 
 When Petruchio says of Katherine, 
 
 Be she 
 
 As old as Sybil, and as curst and shrewd 
 
 As Socrates' Xantippe . . . were she as rough 
 
 As are the swelling Adriatic Seas. 
 
 (Tiiin. SIi. I. ii. 70). 
 
 His mind is full of classic illustration: he is thinking of the 
 same Sybilla that Bacon refers to in his Essay of 
 " Delays," and a line of Horace is present to his mind, — 
 Improbo iracundior Hadria. 
 
 Coriolanus spoke contemptuously of the Roman mob as 
 "the many-headed multitude" {Cor. II. iii. 17), using a 
 phrase derived from Horace — Bellua multorum es capi- 
 tum. The same classic reference is contained in the 
 celebrated description of Rumour — as a pipe
 
 TIBULLUS. OVID. TERENCE. 303 
 
 Of SO easy and so plain a stop 
 
 That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
 
 The still-discordant, wavering multitude 
 
 Can play upon it. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV., Induct. 15). 
 
 See Chap. II., sec. 5, p. 21, for Bacon's use of the same 
 Latin phrase. 
 
 A Latin adage, which may have been taken either from 
 Tibullus or Ovid, is thus employed by Shakespeare — 
 
 Thou may'st prove false: at lovers' perjuries, 
 
 They say, Jove laughs. 
 
 {Rom. Jul. II. ii. 92). 
 
 Ovid's words are : Jupiter ex alto perjuria ridet amantium. 
 ("Ars Amoris " I. 633). See also "Tibullus Elegies" 
 I. iv. 21—24, ^^^' vii- 17)' In Marlowe there is a metrical 
 version: — 
 
 For Jove himself sits in the azure skies, 
 And laughs, below, at lovers' perjuries. 
 
 The following passage does not at first sight appear very 
 classic : — 
 
 "Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but at the next 
 turning of all, on your left: marry, at the very next turning, turn of 
 no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house." (Mer. Vcii. 
 I. ii. 42). 
 
 But Lewis Theobald says of this passage : — " This arch 
 and perplexed direction, on purpose to puzzle the enquirer, 
 seems to be copied from that of Syrus to Demea, in the 
 Brothers of Terence. Act IV., sc. ii.: — 
 
 Ubi eas pra:;terieris. 
 Ad sinistram hac recta platea ; ubi ad Dianas veneris 
 Ito ad dextram prius quam ad portam venias, etc. 
 
 The sentiment of the following passage, — 
 
 If our virtues 
 
 Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
 
 As if we had them not, 
 
 {Mens. Mcas. I. i. 34)
 
 304 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 appears to have originated in the following — 
 
 Paullum scpultoe distal inertiaj 
 
 Cehita virtus. 
 
 {Horace Od. IV. 9). 
 
 There are two passages in Horace which appear to have 
 been very fertile of suggestion to our poet, for the ideas 
 expressed in them are often repeated. They are — 
 
 Extinctus amabitur idem. 
 
 {Horace, Ep. II. i. 14). 
 
 (this is quoted in the Essay of " Death.") — And, 
 
 Virtutem incolumen odimus 
 Sublatam ex oculis quasrimus invidi. 
 
 {Od. III. 24). 
 
 The Shakespearean equivalents to these are the follow- 
 ing :— 
 
 What our contempt doth often hurl from us, 
 
 We wish it ours again? the present pleasure 
 
 By revolution lowering, does become 
 
 The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone : 
 
 The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on. 
 
 {Ant. CI. I. ii. 127). 
 
 Your are loved, sir; 
 They that least lend it you shall lack you first. 
 
 (All's Well I. ii. 67). 
 
 It hath been taught us from the primal state 
 That he which is was wish'd until he were ; 
 And the ebb'd man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love, 
 Comes dear'd by being lack'd. 
 
 (Ant. CI. I. iv. 41). 
 
 I shall be loved when I am lack'd. 
 
 {Cor. IV. i. 15). 
 
 Wliat we have we prize not to the worth 
 
 Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost 
 
 Why, then we rack the value, then we find 
 
 The virtue that possession would not show us. 
 
 Whiles it was ours. 
 
 {M. Ado IV. i. 220).
 
 LOVED WHEN LACKED. 305 
 
 Love that comes too late, 
 Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, 
 To the great sender turns a sour offence, 
 Crying, " That's good that's gone." Our rash faults 
 Make trivial price of serious things we have. 
 Not knowing them until we know their grave. 
 Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, 
 Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust, &c. 
 
 (All's Well V. iii. 57). 
 
 The phrase, Extinctus amabitur idem, is entered in the 
 Promus No. 60. It concludes, and as it were sums up, 
 the Essay of " Death," and in Bacon's observations on a 
 Libel, Burleigh is referred to in language evidently derived 
 from these passages in Horace : " Though he somewhat be 
 envied without just cause whilst he liveth, yet he shall be 
 deeply wanted when he is gone." (" Life " I. 201). 
 
 The same sentiment, in a different Latin rendering, is 
 also found in Promts No. 69: Nemo virtuti invidiam recon- 
 ciliaverit praster mortem. 
 
 It is curious to note how frequently the word lack'd is 
 used in the Shakespeare passages; it is evidently the 
 equivalent of Extinctus, and the fact that the sentiment 
 of these passages had impressed itself strongly on Bacon's 
 mind is clearly indicated by the two notes for literary use, 
 set down in the Promus. The result is most strikingly seen 
 in All's Well, Antony and Cleopatra, and Much Ado. 
 
 Catullus again turns up in the following : — 
 
 Be now as prodigal of all dear grace. 
 
 As Nature was in making graces dear, 
 
 When she did starve the general world beside 
 
 And prodigally gave them all to you. 
 
 (L. L. L. II. i. 9), 
 
 In the 84th Epigram, Lesbia is similarly complimented: 
 
 Qiiixi cum pulcherrima tota est 
 Tum omnibus una omnes surripuit Veneres. 
 
 For most of these references I am indebted either to 
 
 Stapfer or Lewis Theobald. The latter is perhaps the 
 
 vr
 
 306 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 most learned in classical literature of all the Shake- 
 spearean Editors, and points out a large number of classic 
 parallels. I may select one or two from the Greek 
 Classics. 
 
 Troilus and Crcssida opens with the following words, 
 which are put into the mouth of Troilus — 
 
 Call here my varlet: I'll unarm again; 
 
 Why should I war without the Walls of Troy, 
 
 That find such cruel battle here within ? 
 
 This sounds like an echo of Anacreon: — 
 
 MaT7;v 8' i)(^(o (ioii-qv 
 Tt yap f3a\(D fXfO^ i$M 
 
 which may be translated: " 'Tis in vain I have a shield: 
 for wherefore should I wear that outward defence when 
 the battle within me is raging ? " 
 
 Theobald notes that the conduct of the Poet in making 
 Pandarus decipher and comment on the Trojan warriors 
 as they pass [Tro. Cres. I. ii. 192-269), seems an imitation 
 of Homer's Helen on the walls of Troy, when she shows 
 the Greeks to Priam. This incident is borrowed by 
 Euripides in his Phoenissae, and again copied by Statins in 
 the 7th book of his Thebias, where he makes Phorbus show 
 to Antigone the chiefs of the Theban army. 
 
 To me it appears evident that the whole of this inci- 
 dent is so entirely classic in its conception and structure, 
 that it could only have been written by a scholar well 
 versed in ancient literature. It is not a case of borrowing — 
 the Poet has not found the incident ready made to his 
 hand, — it is not knowledge that might be procured from 
 translations, that could bring the Poet's mind into this 
 attitude ; his mind is informed, according to his own classic 
 way of using this word, i.e., it is shaped and moulded into 
 classic form, so that the classic region becomes his natural 
 abode, and the classic style his own proper mode of 
 utterance.
 
 ALLUSIONS TO GREEK AUTHORS. 307 
 
 Theobald quotes a remarkable classic original for the 
 well-known passage in Hamlet : — 
 
 He that made us with such large discourse, 
 
 Looking before and after. 
 
 {Hum. IV. iv. 36). 
 
 This, he affirms, is a purely Homeric expression : — 
 
 Ots o 6 yepwv {xeTerjcnv, a/xa Trpocrcrw /cat OTTtacrd) 
 
 Acucrcrci. 
 
 {IJhui III. 109). 
 also, — 
 
 OuSc Tt oiSe 
 No^trai a/xa Trpocrcrw Kat oTTLcrcTw. 
 
 (lb. I. 343). 
 
 The same phrase is also to be found in xviii. 250. 
 
 It may be noted that the profound philosophical expres- 
 sion, "discourse of reason," is used by Bacon. (Adv. of L. 
 I. iv. 2. Works III. 282). 
 
 The classic scholarship shown in Titus Andronicus is 
 very remarkable ; this play is crowded with classic allusions. 
 Thus : — 
 
 The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy, 
 With opportunity of sharp revenge 
 
 Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent. 
 
 (T/Y. J. I. i. 136). 
 
 — the tent, that is to say, where she and the other captive 
 Trojan women were kept, for thither Hecuba, by a wile, 
 had decoyed Polymestor. "This," Theobald remarks, 
 "is to be found in the Hecuba of Euripides, the only 
 author that I can at present remember from whom our 
 author could have gleaned this circumstance." 
 Again : — 
 
 The Greeks, upon advice did bury Ajax, 
 
 That slew himself. 
 
 (7-/7. .J. I. i. 379). 
 
 Theobald thus comments on this passage: — "As the 
 author before showed himself acquainted with a circum-
 
 308 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 stance gleaned from Euripides, we find him here no less 
 conversant with the Ajax of Sophocles, not at that time 
 translated, in which Ulysses and Teucer strenuously con- 
 tend for permission to bury the body of Ajax, though he- 
 had been declared an enemy to the Confederate States of 
 Greece." Stevens also says, in reference to this passage, 
 that it " alone would sufficiently convince me that the 
 play before us was the work of one who was conversant 
 with the Greek tragedies in their original language." 
 
 This list might be very easily extended ; but it is needless 
 to do so. Whatever such passages may prove, they cer- 
 tainly do not prove that the Poet was an ignorant man, or 
 that he derived his classic knowledge from translations, — 
 that his Latin was small and his Greek less, and that he 
 somehow picked up his knowledge of classic mythology 
 and philosoph}^ by a happy-go-lucky hunt in vernacular 
 literature and a judicious attention to the conversation of 
 scholars. These explanations are quite insufficient to 
 account even for the specimens here presented, much less 
 for those which a more exhaustive gathering might pro- 
 duce. It may be true that the Poet was no scholar ; but the 
 evidence for this, if it exists at all, must be found else- 
 where, and it must be of such a kind as to account for the 
 indications of learning which I have pointed out. This 
 evidence is not contained where we might most reasonably 
 expect to find it — in his actual writings, — and if it is not 
 here, it is not easy to conjecture how the conclusion can 
 be arrived at at all. 
 
 II. — The second indication of classic scholarship is that 
 derived from the classical plays, — which need not detain 
 us long. In writing these plays, it is probable that English 
 translations were used as a matter of convenience, even 
 though the writer might have been capable of going to the 
 original sources. My conviction is that any unbiassed 
 reader will not easily lose the impression that a poet who 
 could so faithfully reproduce the spirit and entourage of 
 classic events and persons, must have studied them care-
 
 GRAMMATICAL CONSTRUCTION. 309 
 
 fully in their most authentic setting. But when this 
 impression does not arise, or is resisted, I have no means 
 of enforcing it by argument. The minute comparisons 
 required between the knowledge shewn in the plays and 
 that extant at the time in translations, is a matter for 
 exact analysis for each particular scene in each play. 
 Therefore, whilst claiming for them a remarkable familiarity 
 with the events and characters relating to ancient history — 
 such a familiarity as is rarely disassociated with scholarship 
 and acquaintance with fountain heads — I can only add 
 that those who insist on explaining away all those pre- 
 sumptive evidences may do so without any polemical 
 protest from me. I think it will be found that the 
 arguments resorted to are so strained and speculative that 
 few will be convinced by them alone, apart from other 
 considerations. 
 
 III. — For classic foot-prints of the third kind, — those 
 depending on the use of Latin idioms and grammatical 
 forms, instead of the vernacular construction which can 
 scarcely be departed from in the smallest particulars by 
 an unlearned writer, — I am chiefly indebted to Dr. Abbott's 
 very learned and exhaustive Shakespearean grammar. The 
 following are specimens : — 
 
 (ci) Why, saw 3-ou anything more wonderful ? 
 
 (y///. Ca's. I. iii. 14). 
 
 The comparative " more wonderful " seems to be used, as 
 in Latin, for — more wonderful than usual. {Abbott 6). 
 
 (6) The superlative inflexion cd, like the Latin super- 
 lative, is often used to express the idea of augmented 
 quality, — for which ordinarily the word very would be 
 employed, — with little or no idea of excess over other 
 examples. {Abbott 8). Thus — 
 
 A little ere the Jiiiglilicsl Julius fell. 
 
 {Ham. I. i. 114). 
 
 (c) The adjectives all, each, both, every, other, are
 
 310 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 sometimes interchanged and used as pronouns in a manner 
 quite different from modern usage. {Abbott 12). Thus — 
 
 Without nil bail — like Sine otinii. 
 
 (Son. 74). 
 
 {d) Tlie adjectives just, mere, proper, very, are some- 
 times used as in Latin. {Abbott 13). Thus — 
 
 Not till iVIoiKlay, my dear son, which is hence a just seven- 
 night. {M. Ado II. i. 374). 
 
 The mere despair of surgery. 
 
 {Macb. IV. iii. 152). 
 
 (See mere in the subsequent division of this discussion, 
 Chapter XIV.). 
 
 Their proper selves. 
 
 {Tciiip. III. iii. 60). 
 
 My very friends. 
 
 {Mcr. V. III. ii. 226). 
 
 {e) One is used for— above all. 
 
 He is one the truest manncr'd. 
 
 (Cyinb. I. vi. 165). 
 
 So the Latin, justissunus unus. {Abbott 18). 
 
 {f) We find since, followed by the present tense, used to 
 denote an action that is, and has been going on, since a 
 certain time. So in Latin with jampridcm. {Abbott 62). 
 Thus, — 
 
 M}' desires . . . e'er since pursue me. 
 
 (TiJi'. \\ 1. i. 22). 
 
 {g) After is used in the same way as Secundum, in Latin, 
 meaning, according to. {Abbott 41). Thus, — 
 
 Say you choose him 
 I^Iore after our commandment, than as guided 
 By your own true affections. 
 
 {Coriol. II. iii. 237). 
 
 Rotten opinion, who hatii writ me down 
 After my seeming. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. V. ii. 128).
 
 .: ; CLASSIC FORMS OF SPEECH. 3II 
 
 (h) To is used to express representation, equivalence, 
 apposition, like the Latin dative case : — Habenms Deuin 
 ainico, — 
 
 I have a King here to my flatterer. 
 
 {Rich. II. IV. iv. 308). 
 
 Warwick is thither gone, to crave the French King's sister to wife 
 
 for Edward. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. III. i. 29). 
 
 And many other examples. {Abbott i8g). 
 
 (0 The omission of the preposition (of: with: &c.) after 
 a verb, is perhaps a Latinism: — 
 
 Despair thy charm. {Mach. V. viii. 13), 
 
 So sympathise, with its etymological sense, suffered with 
 {Abbott 200). — 
 
 The senseless brands will sympathize 
 The heavy accent of thy moving tongue. 
 
 {Ricli. II. V. i. 46). 
 
 {k) Your, like the Latin iste, is used to appropriate an 
 object to the person addressed : — 
 
 Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation 
 of your sun ; so is your crocodile. 
 
 (/!»/. C/. II. vii. 29). 
 
 And many such instances. {Abbott 221). 
 
 (/) The Latin idiom which puts the relative who, before 
 the conjunction, may be imitated in such passages as the 
 following. {Aobott 249). — 
 
 Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face 
 
 Exact the penalty. 
 
 {Mcr. v. I. iii. 137). 
 
 (;n) Like the Latin qua, qua, so, what, what, is used for 
 partly, partly. With is generally joined with this. 
 
 {Abbott 2S5).- 
 
 IVIiat ivilli our help, n'lial icilli the absent King, 
 What with the injuries of a wanton time. 
 
 (i Hen /r. V. i. 49).
 
 JI2 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 (») Indicatives of the simple present used for the 
 complete present, with adverbs signifying "As yet," &c. : 
 in accordance with the Latin idiom, '' janipridem opio.'" 
 {Abbott 346). 
 
 That's the worst tidings that / luar of yd. 
 
 (1 Hen. IV. IV i. 127). 
 
 (0) Noun and infinitive used as subject and object. This 
 may be either a Latinism, or early English. {Abbott 354). — 
 
 It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, 
 
 IVoiiicii to change their shapes, than men their minds. 
 
 {Tii\ G. V. V. iv. 108). 
 
 {p) Infiniti\-e indefinitely used : to, being like Latin ad 
 with a gerund,— 
 
 To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage, 
 
 {Macb. IV. ii. 70). 
 
 meaning not, — " I am too savage to frighten you," but, in or 
 for frightening you. {Abbott ^^6). 
 
 {q) A participle is used with the pronoun implied or 
 understood — the required pronoun being easily understood 
 from the pronounial adjective. Compare — Nostros vidisti 
 flentis ocellos. So, — 
 
 Not helping death's my fee. — {All's W. II. i. 192). 
 
 i.e., death is the fee of me not helping. {Abbott ;^yg). 
 
 (r) As in Latin a verb of speaking (says : asks &c.) can 
 be omitted when it is implied, {Abbott 382) : i. By some 
 other word — 
 
 She calls me proud and [says] that 
 
 She would not love me. — {As You Like It IV. iii. 16). 
 
 or ii. By a question,— 
 
 What are you ? 
 [I ask, or tell me] Your name and quality, and why you answer 
 This present summons. {Lear V. iii. 119) 
 
 These and many other incidental references to Latin con-
 
 VERBAL INFLEXIONS ASSUMED. 313 
 
 struction are pointed out by Dr. Abbott. And yet, in dis- 
 cussing the actual question of the existence of foreign idioms 
 in Shakespeare, he says (418): " It is questionable whether 
 there are many " Latinisms in constvudion (Latinisms in the 
 formation of words are of constant occurrence) in Shakes- 
 peare." My own judgment, based on an induction from 
 the instances which Dr. Abbott himself supplies, does not 
 coincide with this conclusion. It seems to me that Latin 
 constructions are not infrequent in Shakespeare. Of this, 
 every student must judge for himself after reviewing the 
 evidence. That such constructions actually exist, — be 
 they few or many, — there cannot be any doubt ; and their 
 actual presence, however rare, is highly significant of Latin 
 scholarship. Dr. Abbott refers to the following as 
 illustrations of such constructions, — 
 
 Those dispositions that of late transfomi you 
 
 From what you rightly are, 
 
 {Lear I. iv. 242). 
 
 This is an imitation of the Latin use of jampridcm with the 
 present in the sense of the perfect, — 
 
 Let that be mine. 
 
 {Meas. M. II. ii. 12). 
 
 is an imitation of meum est — it is my business. 
 
 The following resembles the Latin idiom, post urbcvi 
 conditam, — 
 
 'Tis our hope, Sir, 
 
 After [our beingj well enter'd [as] soldiers, to return 
 
 And find your Grace in health. 
 
 (^//'5 Well II. i. 5). 
 
 The classic aroma in Shakespeare is very strikingly dis- 
 played by the numerous elisions and elipses, which are 
 natural to Latin composition but many of them quite in- 
 admissible in English, The hiatus which causes obscurity 
 in English is supplied by verbal inflexions in Latin which 
 remove all ambiguity. And even in such cases as cannot 
 be clearly connected with any of the canons of Latin
 
 314 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Syntax, but are rather stretched and strained EngHsh 
 idioms, this habit and method of tempering and twisting 
 the language is a sort of imported habit, — an unconscious 
 assumption that the Enghsh language, without inflections, 
 may be as plastic as the Latin language with inflections. 
 In construing Shakespeare we must continually decide 
 which word is in the Nominative Case, which in the Dative 
 or Ablative, where the Ablative absolute must be assumed, 
 whether a verb usually neuter is or is not used actively, 
 what prepositions are to be understood ; in short any of the 
 rules of Latin Syntax may contribute to the elucidation of 
 difficult passages. In the following quotations the words 
 in brackets are such as may be supposed to be understood 
 to complete the sense, — 
 
 There is no woe [comparable] to his correction, 
 
 Nor [in comparison] to liis service no such joy on earth, 
 
 {Tii'. G. V. II. iv. 138). 
 
 All I can [say] is nothing [in comparison] to her, 
 
 She is alone. 
 
 {lb. 167). 
 
 Heaven me such uses send [as that I may] not [have] to pick 
 
 bad from bad, but [if I must have bad usage that I may] by bad 
 
 [usage] mend. 
 
 {Ollidlo IV. iii. end). 
 
 Ne'er mother rejoiced [at] deliverance more. 
 
 {Cymb. V. v. 369). 
 
 This omission of a preposition after a verb which 
 requires the preposition in order to make it transitive, is 
 very common, and very classic. It has been already 
 referred to (p. 311). The following specimens may be 
 added : — 
 
 By chaste Lucrece soul that late complained 
 
 Her wrongs to us. 
 
 {Luc. 1839). 
 
 He was much feared [for] by his physicians. 
 
 (i Hai. IV. IV. i. 24).
 
 INVERTED SENTENCES. 315 
 
 The elisions in such a passage as the following are very 
 classic : — 
 
 Love goes towards love as schoolbo\-s [go] from their books, 
 
 But love from love [as schoolboys] toward school with heavy looks. 
 
 (/e.y. II. ii.156). 
 
 The construction of a sentence in which the order of 
 words is inverted is distinctly classical, requiring such 
 inflexions to indicate person, number, case or tense, as the 
 classic languages supply. 
 
 Your large speeches may your deeds approve. 
 
 {Lear I. i. 184). 
 
 What cannot be preserved when Fortune takes 
 Patience her injury a mockery makes. 
 
 (0///. I. iii. 206). 
 
 What cannoi be preserved is evidently the objective of the 
 verb takes; and a mockery is the objective of the verb 
 makes. Her injury is connected by a preposition under- 
 stood with the objective of the verb makes — makes a 
 mockery [of] her injury. 
 
 Still more anomalous is: — 
 
 Opinion's but a fool that makes us scan 
 The outward habit by — the inward man. 
 
 {Per. II. ii. 56). 
 
 The outward habit is governed by the preposition by 
 which follows it ; and the objective governed by the word 
 scan is the inward man, the accusative being separated by 
 a large gap from the transitive verb which rules it. If the 
 poet had been writing in simple vernacular English he 
 would have said The inward habit by the outward man. 
 
 So again, such a sentence as the following must be con- 
 strued as carefullv as a sentence of Cicero or Tacitus, and 
 indeed is cast in the mould characteristic of these authors 
 rather than in that of vernacular English, — 
 
 Fortune's blows when most struck home,
 
 3l6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Being gentle wounded, craves a noble cunning. 
 
 {Cor. IV. i. 7). 
 
 which Cowden Clarke thus paraphrases, — When the 
 blows of Fortune strike most directly, to be gentle, though 
 wounded, requires a noble philosophy. 
 
 Timon abounds in these cryptic classic constructions : — 
 
 Like madness is the glory of this life 
 
 As this pomp sliows to a little oil and root. 
 
 {Tim. I. ii. 139). 
 
 construed thus : — Such madness is the glory of this 
 life, as the pomp of this feast appears, when compared with 
 the frugal repa.st of a little oil and a few roots. Here is 
 another specimen : — 
 
 Best state, contentless, 
 Hath a distracted and most wretched being, 
 Worse than the worst, content. 
 
 {Tim. IV. iii. 245). 
 
 Again : — the omission of the word to, to mark the infini- 
 tive shows a writer accustomed to rely on inflexions : — 
 
 You ought not walk. 
 
 {Jul. C. I. i. 3). 
 
 How long within this wood intend j-ou stay ? 
 
 (m. N. D.U.i. 138). 
 
 The Subjunctive or optative or other mood must be 
 inferred from the position of the verb in such a sentence as 
 this :— 
 
 Live [i.e., if I were to live] a thousand years, 
 I shall not tind myself so apt to die. 
 
 (J///.C.III. i. 159). 
 
 Judge me the world. 
 
 (0///. I. ii. 72). 
 
 i.e., let the world judge me. 
 
 Long die thy liappy days before tii}' death. 
 
 {Rich. III. I. iii. 207). 
 
 The use of a noun or a pronoun in an absolute sense, —
 
 ENGLISH AS SPOKEN BY AN ANCIENT ROMAN. 317 
 
 analogous to the ablative or nominative absolute, — is 
 frequent : or the pronoun may be omitted, its place being 
 supplied by a participle or an adjective. 
 
 Then deputy of Ireland ; who, removed, 
 
 Earl Surrey was sent thither. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. II. i. 42). 
 
 Requires to live in Egypt, which not granted 
 He lessens his requests. 
 
 {Aiif. CI. III. xii. 12). 
 
 Not helping, death's my fee. 
 
 {All's nW/II.i. 192). 
 
 I should not seek an absent argument 
 Of my revenge, thou being present. 
 
 {As You Like It III. i. 3). 
 
 The auxiliary verb is omitted : — 
 
 I not doubt 
 He came alive to land. {Temp. II. i. 121). 
 
 These classic constructions are of perpetual recurrence : — 
 
 'Tis not my profit that doth lead mine honour 
 
 Mine honour it. {Anf. CI. II. vii. 83). 
 
 i.e., but it is mine honour that doth go before my profit. 
 
 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, 
 But to support him after. 
 
 (Tim. I. i. 107). 
 
 Be guilt}' of my death, since of my crime. 
 
 {Luc. 931). 
 
 This must be known : which being kept close might move 
 More grief to hide, than hate to utter love 
 
 {Ham. II. i. end). 
 
 which Dr. Abbott construes thus : — This ought to be 
 revealed ; for it, by being suppressed might excite more 
 grief in the King and the Queen by the hiding of it, than 
 an unwillingness to tell bad news would excite love. For 
 many other such instances see Cowden Clarke's Shake- 
 speare Key.
 
 3iS 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CLASSIC DICTION OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 The examples of Latin construction we have given may 
 suffice to prove that the poet not only derived facts, 
 thoughts, ideas, illustrations, allusions, ornaments, from 
 classic writers ; all this might perhaps have been done by 
 the use of translations ; but it shows that the language 
 itself had taken strong possession of his mind, had given 
 form and substance to his speech, had coloured and shaped 
 his style, and enabled him to write according to the usages 
 of the Latin grammar, in modes of expression which a 
 simple adhesion to his own native language would not 
 have permitted. 
 
 This will become still more evident now that we come 
 to the fourth kind of evidence of classic knowledge — the 
 object of which is to show that Shakespeare's vocabulary 
 was in the highest degree classic — that Latin was a 
 language which he could use as a vehicle of his own 
 thoughts — that his English contains very large augmenta- 
 tions from the Latin. It shows him constantly making 
 linguistic experiments, endeavouring to enrich his native 
 language by coining new words, derived from the Latin ; 
 and that even ordinary English words often became 
 plastic and elastic in his speech, carrying a larger import 
 than their vernacular employment can account for. As 
 this kind of evidence has not hitherto been very completely 
 shown, and only incidentally noticed, I will give as full a 
 collection as I can of words used in a classic sense by 
 Shakespeare — either non-naturalised Latin words, or else 
 English words of Latin derivation, — which although they
 
 ABRUPTION. ACADEME. ACCITE. ACKNOWN. 319 
 
 have a fixed English import, yet in ordinary use do not 
 bear all the meaning which in the poet's hand they are 
 made to bear, and which is derived from their classic roots. 
 
 1. Abruption, used once only, is not really English ; it 
 represents the Latin word abruptio, a breaking or tearing 
 off, a hasty rending asunder, or interruption. 
 
 What makes this pretty abruption ? 
 
 {Tro. Cr.lU.il 6g). 
 
 Bacon uses abnipta scientia as equivalent to knowledge 
 broken off and losing itself. (See Admiration). 
 
 Bacon speaks of the injury to philosophy contonplationcm 
 intempestive abnimpendo, — by breaking off scrutiny pre- 
 maturely. 
 
 2. Academe, ' AKaS-^/xeLa, or 'AKaSrjfjiia a gymnasium in the 
 suburbs of Athens where Plato taught. 
 
 Our court shall be a little Academe. 
 
 (Love's Laboiifs Lost I. i. 13). 
 
 a word not likely to be used by an unlearned writer. 
 
 3. Accite, Lat. accio, accitus ; to summon or call to a 
 place ; used three times ; the second case with the sense 
 of move or impel. 
 
 He by the Senate is accitcd home. 
 
 (7/7. A. I. I. 27). 
 
 What accitcs your most worshipful thought to think so ? 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. II. ii. 64). 
 
 Our coronation done, we will accite, 
 As I before remember'd, all our State. 
 
 (lb. V. ii. 141). 
 
 4. Acknowii ; occurs only once, and is probably an 
 attempt to bring the Latin word agnosco into the language 
 — not the Greek root of Mr. Huxley's very useful word 
 agnostic, which implies not knowledge but ignorance; 
 
 Be not aclinown on't ; I have use for it. 
 
 {Otii. in. iii, 319).
 
 320 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 meaning, do not profess any knowledge of the matter — do 
 not recognize or make any reference to it. 
 
 Ben Jonson, the most classic, indeed pedantic, of 
 dramatists, has : — 
 
 You will not be ackiunvn sir ; wh}' 'tis wise ; 
 Thus do all gamesters at all games dissemble. 
 
 {Volpoiic). 
 
 5. Act : is sometimes used in one of the senses of the 
 Latin word Actus, i.e., effect, operation, use or function: a 
 sense which, though rather mediaeval than classic, is found 
 in Bacon's Latin. Thus he regards Fascination, as the Vis 
 ei actus imaginationis, the power and operation of Imagi- 
 nation. So in Hamlet, the witnesses of the ghost are 
 described as : 
 
 Distilled almost to jelly bj' the act of fear. 
 
 {Ham. I. ii. 205). 
 
 Bees are described as showmg the function of order in a 
 state ; they are 
 
 Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach 
 
 The act {i.e., the function, operation, use) of order to a 
 
 peopled Kingdom. 
 
 {Hen. V. I. ii. 188). 
 
 lago, who is profoundly philosophic, says. 
 
 When the blood is made dull with the act of sport. 
 
 {0th. II. i. 229.) 
 
 i.e., by the effect or operation of sport. 
 
 Again, lago philosophising on jealousy, says, — 
 
 Dangerous conceits arc in their natures, poisons, 
 
 Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, 
 
 But with a little act upon the blood, 
 
 Burn like the mines of sulphur. 
 
 {Oili. III. iii. 326). 
 
 6. Aduiiration = 'Latin, Adj)iiratio, Wonder. (See Chapter 
 VL for a full discussion of this very interesting word.) 
 
 7. Advertising (as an Adjective). This word is once
 
 ADVERTISE. AGGKAVATE. 321 
 
 used in the classic sense (adverto) of mindful, regardful, 
 observant, — directing one's mind, feelings, thought or 
 attention to a thing. 
 
 As I was tlien 
 Advertising, and holy to your business, 
 Not changing heart with habit, I am still 
 Attorney'd at your service. 
 
 {Mcas.for Mcas. V. i. 387). 
 
 Elsewhere the word, with different inflexion, has a 
 meaning related to the French avertir, warn, give infor- 
 mation. 
 
 8. Aggravate. Dr. Abbott says, " To aggravate now 
 means, except when applied to disease, to add to the 
 mental burdens of anyone, hence to vex ; but in Sonnet 
 146 we find, — 
 
 Then soul live thou upon thy servant's loss, 
 
 [/.6'. thy body's loss] 
 And let that pine to aggravate thy store, 
 
 in the literal sense of to add to the weight of, — increase." 
 (See ** Shak. Gram.," p. 13). This is, of course, a 
 naturalization of the Latin word aggravo — ad, gravis, — 
 make heavy. Other instances are, — 
 
 Once more, the more to aggravate the note, 
 With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat. 
 
 {Ricli. II. I. i 43). 
 
 The Clarendon Editor interprets the word aggravate to 
 mean " intensify or surcharge the note of disgrace. So 
 Falstaff says, — " Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his 
 style — thou. Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and 
 cuckold.'" [Mer. W. II. ii. 296). This ''cuckold" is the 
 aggravation intended, and thus the additional weight is 
 exactly defined. The poet seemed to recognize the fact 
 that some small scholarship is required, if this word is to 
 be used accurately, for he shews how uneducated persons 
 may blunder over it. Bottom uses it thus, — "I will 
 aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any 
 
 X
 
 322 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 sucking dove " {M . N. D. I. ii. 83); and Mistress Quickly 
 makes the same mistake, '•! beseek you now aggravate 
 your choler." (2 Hen. IV. II. iv. 175). In these cases the 
 absurdity depends on recognizing the classic sense which 
 the speaker not only misses but reverses. 
 
 9. Antvcs : taken directly from the Latin antrum, a cave 
 (once only). 
 
 Of antrcs vast and deserts idle. 
 
 (0///. I. iii. 140). 
 
 10. Argentine : Latin argentum, silver (once only). 
 
 Celestial Dian, goddess Argentine. 
 
 {Per, V. i. 251). 
 
 This involves also a classic allusion to Diana's silver bow. 
 Bacon has a Pronius Note (837), Argentangina. 
 
 11. Artificial : with a meaning derived from the Latin 
 word artifex, a maker or creator, is used in the following 
 passages : — 
 
 We, Hermia, like two aitificial gods 
 
 Have with our needles created both one flower. 
 
 (M. N. D.IU. ii. 203). 
 
 Artificial strife 
 Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 
 
 {Tiiiwn I. i. 37). 
 
 Artificial, in this last passage, may refer to the subject of 
 the picture, i.e., the strife which is represented ; or it may 
 mean the struggle of Art, as a creator, to rival or represent 
 Nature. Probably the poet wished to combine more 
 meanings than one in one word, as was his wont. 
 
 12. Aspersion: used once by Shakespeare, does not mean 
 calumny ; it has a meaning derived from its Latin root, 
 but even this is taken in a very peculiar sense. The Latin 
 aspergo, aspersi, means to sprinkle, and the poet, with a 
 hidden allusion to Baptism, uses the word aspersion for 
 consecration. 
 
 No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
 
 ASPERSIOiN. CACOD.EMON. CADENT. CAPRICIOUS. 323 
 
 To make this contract grow. 
 
 {Temp. IV. i. 18). 
 
 Bacon uses the word in the classic sense, but in a more 
 current way — to signify a sprinkling, or mixture of two 
 things. Of the Jewish ceremonial law he remarks, — 
 "There is to be found, besides the theological sense, much 
 aspersion of philosophy." ("Advancement" I. vi. g; 
 Works III. 298). And the King's book is described as "a 
 work richly compounded of divinity, morality and policy, 
 with great aspersion of all other arts." {lb. II. xxi. 8, p. 429). 
 "The King now hath reigned twelve years in his white robe 
 without almost any aspersion of the crimson dye of blood." 
 (Oliver St, John Charge. " Life " V. 143). 
 
 13. CacodcBmon : Greek KaKoSat/Awi', Evil genius (once 
 only). 
 
 Hie thee to heil, for shame, and leave tlie world, 
 Thou Cacodivmoii ! there thy kingdom is. 
 
 {Rich. III. I.iii. 143). 
 
 14. Cadcnt : Latin cado, fall (once only). 
 
 With cadcnt tears fret channels in her cheeks. 
 
 {Lear I. iv. 307). 
 
 15. Candidatus : This Latin word is used, unchanged, 
 once only, — 
 
 Be candidatus then and put it on. 
 
 {Tit. And. I. i. 185). 
 
 i.e., put on the white palliament, or robe, which the 
 candidate wore. To the English signification of the word 
 ■candidate, is added the sense of white coloured, implied in 
 the original Latin. 
 
 16. Capricious . This word occurs once only in Shake- 
 speare, and then is used in rather an intricate pun, " I am 
 here, with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, 
 honest Ovid, was among the Goths." {As You Like It III. 
 iii. 7). Capricious has a double reference to the Italian 
 word capriccioso, humorous or fantastical, and to the Latin
 
 324 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 word caper, a goat And the word Goths, — pronounced 
 goats, — augments the punning. The Goths were the 
 Getae, a Thracian tribe on the Danube, whither Ovid was 
 banished. This redupHcated pun is further illustrated by 
 a passage in the undoubtedly Shakespearean play, The 
 Return from Parnassus, — "Good Ovid that in his life-time 
 lived with the Gctes, and now after his death converseth 
 with a Barbarian." (3 Par. 702). The passage in As You 
 Like It helps us to interpret the Parnassus play, in which 
 the Goths are hidden under the more general title Barbarian. 
 17. Captious occurs once only, and with an entirely 
 classic meaning, — 
 
 I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 
 Yet in this captions and inicniblc sieve 
 I still pour in the waters of my love. 
 
 (.4//'s ira/I. iii. 207). 
 
 Captious has the meaning of the Latin word capio, I take ; 
 and intenible is formed from teneo, I hold, with the priva- 
 tive particle in ; so that the Poet is speaking of a sieve, 
 which takes all and holds nothing. This involves another 
 very subtle classic allusion, which we know Bacon intended 
 to put to some literary use. For in the Promus, No. 521, 
 we find Fere Danaidcs. The Danaids, daughters of 
 Danaus, w^ere punished in Hades by being compelled 
 everlastingly to pour waters into a sieve. The same 
 allusion is to be found elsewhere in Shakespeare : — 
 
 I pray thee, cease thy counsel, 
 
 Which falls into my ears as profitless 
 
 As water in a sieve. 
 
 (iU. Ado. V. i. 3). 
 
 Rosalind. — My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay 
 
 of Portugal. 
 
 CcUa.—Or rather bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection 
 
 in, it runs out. 
 
 {AsYou Like Itl\.i.2ii). 
 
 18. Cast is another instance of classic punning :—
 
 CASUAL, CIRCUMMURE. CIRCUMSCRIBE. 325 
 
 He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana . . . the very ice of 
 
 chastity is in them. 
 
 {As You Like It III. iv. 16). 
 
 The word cast combines the double meaning of the 
 EngHsh vernacular, cast off, done with ; and the Latin 
 castus, chaste, Diana being the goddess of chastity. 
 
 ig. Casual. Casualties — corresponding to Bacon's Latin 
 word casualia, from casus — what happens, or falls out : — 
 not necessarily misfortune. 
 
 The martlet 
 Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
 Even in the force and road of casualty. 
 
 {Mcr. Yen. II. ix. 29). 
 
 Turned her — to foreign casualties. 
 
 {Lear IV. iii. 45). 
 
 Time hath rooted out my parentage, 
 
 And to the world and awkward casualties 
 
 Bound rae in servitude. 
 
 {Pericles V. i. 93). 
 
 Your brace of unprizable estimations : the one is but frail, and 
 the other casual. {Cymb. I. iv. 100). 
 
 Bacon speaks of the ''casualty''' of the fortunes of kings 
 ("Adv. L." I. iii. 6), and referring to the confiscation of the 
 goods of attainted subjects, he calls them ''casualties of 
 the crown"— z.c. windfalls. (" Hen. VIL"). 
 
 20. CifcummuYC : once only ; the Latin itself is the 
 Poet's : circum, around, with inurus, a wall. 
 
 He hath a garden circuiiiiuured with brick. 
 
 {Meas. M. IV. i. 28). 
 
 21. Circumscribe : circumscriberc, inclose in a circle, 
 limit, define the limits or boundaries of anything. 
 
 Where he circumscribed with his sword 
 And brought to voke tlie enemies of Rome. 
 
 {Tit. A. I. i. 68). 
 
 Therefore must his clioice be circumscribed. 
 
 {Haul. I. iii. 22).
 
 326 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 22. Circtimscription, — once only used, — from the same 
 root, — 
 
 I would not my unhoused free condition 
 
 Put into cirainiscripfion and confine. 
 
 (0///. I. ii. 26). 
 
 Confine is also here used in its classic sense — limits or 
 boundaries. 
 
 23. Civil : uncivil, are words that in Shakespeare have 
 a more classic sense than modern usage admits. They 
 refer to civis, the State. Civil means (not polite but) 
 subject to public law ; organically, and as a rule amicably, 
 united to the State ; — civil refers not to mere individual 
 character, but to public life. What is civil may then be 
 very destructive ; — we speak now of civil war — but not of 
 "civil butchery," "civil blows," "civil broils," "civil 
 dissensions," "civil enmity," "civil strife," "a civil 
 monster," — all of which are met with in Shakespeare. 
 
 The King of Heaven forbid our lord the King 
 
 Should so, with civil and uncivil arms, 
 
 Be rush'd upon. 
 
 {Rich. II. III. iii. loi). 
 
 The uncivil Kernes of Ireland are in arms. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. i. 310). 
 
 The classic sense survives most clearly in the words 
 civilized, uncivilized. 
 
 24. Collect : Latin colligo, gather together. The classic 
 sense includes mental collection, put or join together 
 logically, make deductions, and it is once used in this 
 sense by Shakespeare : — 
 
 The reverent care I bear unto my lord 
 
 n the di 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. i. 34). 
 
 Made me collect these dangers in the duke. 
 
 Be collected, 
 
 No more amazement ; tell your piteous heart 
 
 There's no harm done. 
 
 {Temp. I. ii. 13).
 
 COLLECT, COLLECTION, COMFORT. 327 
 
 Be collected means keep your mind in a calm and reason- 
 able state. 
 
 " Methinks solitariness collecteth the mind, as shutting 
 the eyes doth the sight." (" Life " I. 321). 
 
 "I will undertake, by collecting the styles, to judge 
 whether he were the author or no." (Bacon's " Apology "). 
 
 "He can collect upon things that formerly have not 
 so well succeeded, as well what to amend as what to 
 avoid. ("Life" V. 176). 
 
 25. Collection has a cognate meaning. Collectio is used 
 by Seneca in the sense of inference — conclusion. 
 
 When I waked, I found 
 
 This label on my bosom ; whose containing 
 
 Is so from sense in hardness, that I can 
 
 Make no collection of it. 
 
 (Cymb. V. v. 429). 
 
 Her speech is nothing, 
 
 Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
 
 The hearers to collection. 
 
 {Ham. IV. V. 7). 
 
 " And this is no other collection than Demosthenes in 
 like cases doth often use and iterate." (" Life " V. 177). 
 
 Hooker says : — "This kind of comprehension in Scripture 
 being therefore received, still there is doubt how far we 
 are to proceed by collection/' (" Eccles, Pol." I. xiv. 2). 
 
 26. Comfort : in its classic sense from con — cnui, and 
 fortis, to strengthen ; a legal term, signifying aiding, 
 abetting, helping, supporting by any means, material or 
 otherwise. 
 
 If I find him comforting the king, it will stuff his suspicion more 
 fully. {Lear III. v. 21). 
 
 Why dost not comfort mo and help me out ? 
 
 {Tit. A. Il.iii. 209). 
 
 "If neighbour Princes should patronize and comfort 
 rebels" Bacon's "Henry VH." (Works VI. 65), and in 
 two other passages.
 
 328 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 27. Complement: Latin complco, fill up, finish, make 
 complete or perfect. Once in Shakespeare is this word 
 used in a sense derived from the word compleo, and the 
 effect is curious and subtle : — 
 
 When my outward action doth demonstrate 
 The native act and figure of my heart 
 In complciucnt externe, 'tis not long after 
 But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 
 For daws to peck at : I am not what I am. 
 
 (Oth. I. i. 61). 
 
 Schmidt says this means "in outward appearance." I 
 think the meaning is fuller and stronger, and the Latin 
 supplies the key. The passage may be paraphrased, — 
 *' When I give a complete external representation of all 
 that my heart contains." 
 
 28. Composition: from the Latin compono, composui, — join, 
 bring together ; used once as equivalent to coherence, 
 consistency, i.e., what can be put together consistently and 
 intelligibly : — 
 
 There is no composition in these news 
 
 That gives them credit. {Otli I. iii. i). 
 
 29. Composure: from the same Latin root, meaning a union 
 or junction : — " It was a strong composure a fool could dis- 
 unite." {Tro. Cr. IL iii. 108). Elsewhere it means com- 
 position or structure : but even in this use the classic sense 
 is probably intended as an augmentation of the meaning, — 
 
 His composure must be rare indeed 
 When these things cannot blemish.- 
 
 {A 11 1. CI. I.iv. 22). 
 
 meaning either the qualities which in their union form his 
 character, or their strong and secure combination : — 
 
 Thank the heavens, Lord, thou art of sweet composure. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. iii. 251). 
 
 30. Compound: Latin compono, adjust, arrange, settle, 
 come to an agreement : —
 
 CONCENT, CONGREEING. CONDUCE. 329 
 
 Till you coiiipoiiiid whose right is worthiest, 
 We, for the worthiest, hold this right from both. 
 
 {John II. i. 281). 
 
 If you think it meet compound with him by the year. 
 
 {Mars. M. IV. ii. 24). 
 
 We will coinponnd this quarrel, 
 
 {Tani.S.\.n.2>o). 
 
 31. Concent. Latin concino, conccntus : sing together or 
 in concert, or concord, — harmoniously. Metaphorically it 
 expresses the analogy between music and other kinds of 
 harmony : — 
 
 For Government, though high and low and lower 
 Put into parts, doth keep in one concent ; 
 Congreemg in a full and natural close, 
 Like music. {Hen. V. I. ii, 180). 
 
 Congreeing is also a new word, classically constructed 
 if not classically derived. It is probably an echo of 
 congrcdior {congressus), or of congeno. 
 
 Bacon in a speech, referring to the dealings of the 
 Parliament with the King, said, "In concent, where tongue- 
 strings, not heart-strings, make the music, that harmony 
 may end in discord." (" Life " IV. 177). 
 
 Their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation 
 of society that they flock together in concent {i.e. in vocal unison) like 
 so many wild geese. {2 Hen. IV. V. i. 76). 
 
 In all the passages where concent is thus referred to we 
 may trace the teaching of Bacon's Philosophia Prima. (See 
 De Aug. III. i). 
 
 32. Conduce. The same range of meaning that belongs 
 to the Latin word conduco, is given to the word conduce. 
 The primary meaning is bring together, assemble, 
 collect : — as in the following passage, — 
 
 Within my soul tliere doth conduce a fight 
 Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate 
 Divides more wider than the sky and earth. 
 
 (7>() Cr. V. ii. 147).
 
 330 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Cowden Clarke says, ** Conduce is here used in its 
 classical sense of lead together, assemble ; and a fight re- 
 presents the elements of a fight, the contending forces, the 
 tumultuous feelings, the battling emotions that surge and 
 meet tumultuously with the speaker's soul, brought 
 together by the strength of passion," 
 
 In the only other passage in Shakespeare where this 
 word is used, a secondary sense of conduco is implied, viz., 
 contribute to something by being useful ; like condticere ad 
 vitcB commoditatem of Cicero : — 
 
 The reasons you allege do more conduce 
 
 To the hot passion of distemper'd blood, 
 
 Tlian to make up a free determination 
 
 'Twixt right and wrong. 
 
 (Tro. C/. II. ii. i68). 
 
 33. Conduct (substantive) from the same Latin word : as 
 a noun substantive it means guidance or leading : — and 
 consequently the channel along which an object passes to 
 reach its destination : — 
 
 My election 
 Is led on in theco;;(///c/ of my will. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. ii. 61). 
 
 The preposition in fixes the meaning to be, channel : 
 while the verb led on aids the primary sense : — 
 
 Extinguishing his conduct {i.e. the lamp) in this case. 
 
 (Lucrece 313). 
 
 Bacon advised the Queen, in shewing favour to Essex, to 
 make use of such persons as could not appropriate thanks to 
 themselves, "Some such as could not be thought but a 
 mere conduct of her own goodness." ("Apology." " Life " 
 in. 149). 
 
 34. Confine: Confincless : U neon finable : In Latin co^/jju's, 
 is the adjective of which confine is the corelative sub- 
 stantive : — bordering, adjoining, and so a border or 
 boundary, or limit, encircling, enclosing a thing : —
 
 CONFIX. CONGRUENT. CONSEQUENCE. 33I 
 
 The extravagant and erring spirit hies 
 
 To his confine. 
 
 {Ham. I. i. 154). 
 
 Esteem him as a lamb, being compared 
 
 With my confineless harms. 
 
 {Mach. IV. iii. 54). 
 
 Thou II nco)i finable baseness. 
 
 (il/d-r. ir. II. ii. 21). 
 
 meaning, thou fellow of unlimited, unbounded baseness. 
 See Circumscription. 
 
 35. Confix : Latin configo, fixi — fasten together, transfix. 
 Used once only. 
 
 Or else for ever be confixed here 
 
 A marble monument. 
 
 {Meas. M. V. i. 232). 
 
 36. Congreeing. (See 31), 
 
 37. Congruent : Latin congnicns, suitable, appropriate : 
 once only. 
 
 I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton, appertaining 
 to thy young days. (L. L. L. I. ii. 14). 
 
 38. Consequence : Latin consequor, follow after, ensue as 
 an effect. 
 
 He closes with you in this consequence. 
 
 {Ham. II. i. 44). 
 
 i.e., he falls into conversation on the track of the infor- 
 mation or suggestions you have given. This subtle use of 
 the w^ord may be implied in other cases where the ordinary 
 sense may suffice : ex. gr. : — 
 
 The instruments of darkness tell us truths, 
 
 Win us with honest trifles, to betray us 
 
 In deepest eonseijuence. 
 
 {Macb. I. iii. 124). 
 
 If the assassination 
 Could trammel up the consequence, etc. 
 
 {lb. I. vii. 2). 
 
 The classic sense gives depth, richness and fulness to the 
 . meaning.
 
 332 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 3g. Consign : represents the Latin consigno, subscribe, 
 seal to, ratif}', confirm, yield. 
 
 All lovers young, all lovers must 
 Consign to thee, and come to dust. 
 
 {Cymb. IV. ii. 274). 
 
 Augment, or alter, as your wisdom best 
 
 Shall see advantageable for our dignit}', . . . 
 
 And we'll consign thereto. 
 
 (Henry V. V. ii. 87). 
 
 God consigning to my good intents. 
 
 (2 Hen. II'. V. ii. 143). 
 
 40. Consist : The Latin word consisio means, take one's 
 stand, or keep a position ; hold one's ground. 
 
 If we can make our peace 
 Upon sucli large terms, and so absolute 
 As our conditions shall consist upon. 
 Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. i. 185). 
 
 Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist 
 
 {I'ericl. I. iv. St,). 
 
 In the Novum Organum L 48 we find, Gliscit intellectus 
 humanus, neque consisiere aut acquiescere potest — the 
 mind of man is all ablaze, and cannot settle or rest. 
 Bacon often uses this word in its classic sense : he speaks 
 of " abstinences and observancies which make the mind 
 most to consist in itself." ("Adv." IL xi. 2. Works IIL 380). 
 He speaks of " praemium and poena whereby civil states 
 consist." {lb. XXIL 6. p. 438). Referring to the con- 
 spiracy of Lopez, and the dangers attending it, he says, 
 "Upon so narrow a point consisted the safety of her 
 Majesty's life." (" Life " L 285). 
 
 41. Consiringcd : Latin constringo, bind together, string 
 up like a bundle, and so give coherence or consistence. 
 Constringere sarcinam. It occurs only once, — 
 
 Tlie dreadful spout 
 Which shipmen do the hurricano call,
 
 CONSTRINGED. CONTAIN. 333 
 
 Consiringed in mass by the almighty sun. 
 
 [Tro. Cr. V. ii. 173). 
 
 Assensum itaque constringit {i.e., syllogismus) non res 
 {Nov. Org. I, xiii.). The syllogism grasps, i.e. holds fast, 
 governs, or commands assent ; but does not lay hold of the 
 thing itself; the syllogism ties up the conclusion in a sort 
 of bundle or mass, but does not in a corresponding manner 
 command the intellect, by presenting the fact. 
 
 42. Contain: in the sense of contineo, i.e., i. Restrain, 
 hold in check, ii. Hold together, encompass, as by a 
 band or girdle. 
 
 i. Fear not, my lord, we can coniain ourselves. 
 
 {Tain. SJi. Ind. I. 100). 
 
 O contain 3-ourself ; 
 Your passion draws ears hither. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. V. ii. 180). 
 
 ii. This little abstract doth contain tliat large 
 
 Which died in Geffrey. 
 
 {-JoJin II. i. loi). 
 
 Leaving his body as a paradise 
 
 To envelope and contain celestial spirits. 
 
 {Hen. V. I. i. 30). 
 
 " Envelope and contain" appears in variation as "clasp 
 and contain," in the Essay "Of the true greatness ot 
 Kingdoms." " I have marvelled sometimes at Spain, how 
 they clasp and contain so large dominions with so few 
 natural Spaniards." 
 
 Bacon speaks of *' Religion, being the chief band of 
 human society; it is a happy thing when itself is well con- 
 tained within the true band of Unity." (Essay of " Unity 
 in Religion "). Both i. and ii. are curiously combined in 
 the vehement words of Coriolanus : — 
 
 Measureless liar ! Thou hast made m\- heart 
 Too great for what contains it. 
 
 {Cor. \'. vi. 103).
 
 334 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 See in further elucidation of this Ant. CI. IV. xiv. 39, 
 quoted under the section Continent 47. 
 
 43. Content : from the same root ; the space defined by a 
 boundary. 
 
 Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear, 
 Nothing of that sliall from mine eyes appear. 
 
 (Tro. Cr. I. ii. 320). 
 
 There is a double meaning — what my heart encloses ; or 
 that which is shut up in my heart ; the enclosing, or the 
 contents. 
 
 There is a play upon words, i.e., a combination of the 
 sense of satisfaction, with the sense of inclusion, in the 
 following use of the word content : — 
 
 Her grace in speech, 
 Her words y'clad with wisdom's majesty, 
 flakes me from wondering fail to weeping joys, 
 Sucli is the fuhiess of m}' heart's content. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. I. i. 32). 
 
 44. Continent: the same meaning from the same root; 
 but it occurs more frequentl}'. Shakespeare calls the 
 chest, or thorax, the continent of the heart, — the box or 
 enclosure which contains it : — 
 
 O cleave \\\y sides ! 
 
 Heart, once be stronger than thy continent, 
 
 Crack thy frail case ! 
 
 (.-J;;/. C/. IV. xiv. 39). 
 
 The rivers . . . have overborne their continents. 
 
 {M. N. D. II. i. 92). 
 
 I pray }'0u have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage 
 goes slower. {Lear I. ii. 181). 
 
 Here's the scroll, 
 The continent and sumniar}' of my fortune. 
 
 {M. Ven. III. ii. 130;. 
 
 Any surface, however small, may be a continent : 
 ex. gr. : — twenty thousand men may " fight for a plot " of 
 ground : —
 
 CONTRACTION. CONTRIVE. 335 
 
 Which is not tomb enough and continent 
 To hide the slain. 
 
 {Ham. IV. iv. 64). 
 
 The classic sense of contineo, — restrain, keep within 
 bounds, is also found : — 
 
 My desire ... all continent impediments would o'erbear 
 That did oppose my will. 
 
 {iMacb. IV. iii. 63). 
 
 The line from M. N. D. answers to the continente ripa of 
 Horace. Bacon uses these words in a precisely similar 
 way. " If there be no fulness then is the continent greater 
 than the content." (" Advancement of Learning " I. i. 3. 
 Works III. 265). "These two nations are situate upon 
 the continent of one island.'' (" Life " III. 68). Continent 
 is one of the words pointed out by Hallam as indicating 
 classic scholarship in the poet. 
 
 45. Contraction : once used ; contralto, contractus, draw 
 together, come to an agreement, — as in marriage : — • 
 
 O such a deed 
 As from the body of contraction plucks 
 The very soul. 
 
 {Ham. III. iv. 45). 
 
 46. Contrive. When Shakespeare writes : — 
 
 Please ye we may contrive this afternoon. 
 
 {Tain. Sli. I. ii. 276). 
 
 he uses, with unusual audacity, a Latin word in a sense 
 not very common in Latin, and utterly anomalous for 
 English, — in the sense of wear away, spend, consume. 
 Terence writes, Ambulando totiini hunc contrivi diem (quoted 
 by Staunton). Bacon also uses the Latin word in the 
 same way, In meditationibus et commentationibus ingenii 
 infinitum tempus contriverunt. {Nov. Org. I. 112). 
 
 It seems to me that this Latin sense of the word contrive 
 is secreted in the " waste of time," referred to in the follow- 
 ing passages : —
 
 336 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 In companions 
 That do converse and waste tlie time toj^ethei-, &c. 
 
 {Mcr. V.III. iv, II). 
 
 I like tliis place, 
 And willingly would waste my time in it. 
 
 {As You Like It II. iv. 94). 
 
 There are several other passages in which the wasting of 
 time is referred to in a sense that belongs to the same 
 usage as the classic sense of contrive, which is found only 
 in the one passage above quoted. 
 
 47. Conveniences : convenio, agree with, harmonize ; or 
 as an impersonal verb convenit, it is fitting, suitable, 
 becoming, seemly, adapted. Quod convenit is probably 
 understood in the following passage : — 
 
 For the want of these required conveniences, her delicate tender- 
 ness will find itself abused. {Oili. II. i. 234). 
 
 48. Convent. The same impersonal verb, convenit, is 
 implied in : — 
 
 When that is known and golden time convents. 
 
 {Twelfih Night V, i. 391). 
 
 Bacon said to Talbot in his charge, '' By your variety 
 and vacillation you lost the acceptable time of the first 
 grace, which was not to have convented you. (" Life " V. 
 12), — the acceptable time did not become applicable to you 
 — was not suited to you. 
 
 49. Conversation : this word is used in a very remark- 
 able way in one passage, where no verbal interchange of 
 discourse can be alluded to, the only speech is that which 
 passes between the moods and thoughts of the same 
 person. The passage is as follows : — Helena speaks, 
 
 My lord, your son made me to think of this ; 
 Ellse Paris and the medicine and the king 
 Had, from the conversation of my thoughts. 
 Haply been absent then. 
 
 {All's Well I. iii. 238). 
 
 On this Cowden Clarke gives the following interesting
 
 CONVICTED. CONVINCE. 337 
 
 comment: — "The pertinent and poetical use which 
 Shakespeare makes of this word here, might, one would 
 think, be sufficient refutation to those who undervalue his 
 knowledge of classical language. Conversation is here 
 employed m the sense as derived from the Latin con- 
 versatio, which strictly means, 'turning or whirling about,' 
 as well as interchanged discourse. The word in this 
 passage has a finely expressive effect, as conveying the 
 whirl, the tossing to and fro in ceaseless secret discussion 
 of Helen's toiling thoughts." 
 
 When Bacon (Essay of " Friendship ") says that " a man 
 tosseth his thoughts," much the same idea is suggested as 
 that which Cowden Clarke finds in the word conversation. 
 Edward Fitzgerald was especially struck by these words of 
 Bacon, and says, " I know not from what metaphor Bacon 
 took his 'tosseth.'" The passage in Shakespeare, thus 
 expounded, appear to me to give a complete answer to 
 Mr. Fitzgerald's perplexity. 
 
 50. Convicted : once only used in Shakespeare, and then 
 it is really the past participle of the word convince : as in 
 the Latin convinccre changes to convictus — vanquished, 
 defeated, conquered. 
 
 So by a roaring tempest on the flood, 
 
 A whole armado of convicted sail 
 
 Is scattered. Cfoliii III. iv. 2). 
 
 Bacon uses the word convict in the same sense. He 
 refers to recusants who "have been convicted and con- 
 firmed, and have not received the Sacrament once a year." 
 (Charge to Verge. "Life" IV. 267). Also — of heresies 
 and corruptions of the Church "already acknowledged and 
 convicted.'' ("' Life" L 83). In observations on a Libel 
 he undertakes "to discover the malice, and reprove and 
 convict the untruths thereof." (" Life " I. 150). 
 
 51. Convince, also from the same root, — defeat, overcome. 
 
 His two cliambcilains 
 Will I with wine and wassail so convince. 
 
 {Macb. I. vii. 63).
 
 33S SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Their malady coirt'inccs the great assay of art. 
 
 (//'. IV. iii. 142). 
 
 Time this truth shall ne'er coiii'incc. 
 
 [Pc-rici. I. ii. 123). 
 
 Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince 
 the honour of my mistress. (Cviub. I. iv. 103). 
 
 Bacon in his Essay of "Atheism," and elsewhere, speaks 
 of Natural Theology as sufficient "to convince Atheism, 
 but not to inform religion " (See Inform). Special 
 providencies he speaks of as things which serve not only 
 to console the minds of the faithful, but to strike and con- 
 vince the consciences of the wicked : " "ad percellendas et 
 convincendas conscientias improborum." (Works. I. 516). 
 
 52. Crescive : occurs once only ; from cresco, grow. 
 
 Grew, like the summer grass, fastest by night, 
 
 Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. 
 
 {Hen. V. I. i. 65). 
 
 53. Crisp: Latin Crispus (of hair) curled; (of things) 
 curled, uneven, waving — in wavering motion, quivering. 
 It occurs three times, always with a classic sense : — 
 
 Leave your crisp channels (to the Naiads) 
 
 {Temp. IV. i. 130). 
 
 (The river Severn) Hid his crisp head in the hollow bank. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. I. iii. io6). 
 
 All the abhorred births below crisp heaven 
 Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine. 
 
 {Tinion IV. iii. 183). 
 
 As to the passage from the Tempest, it is suggested by 
 Cowden Clarke, that crisp may either mean curled (Ariel 
 rides on the " curled clouds ") or, perhaps preferably, it 
 may mean shining, glistening, brilliant, from cnspare, 
 which means, in some cases, cause to shine. In any case 
 the interpretation of the word comes from the Latin. 
 Bacon says, " Bulls are more crisp on the head than 
 cows:" and he speaks of "quantity, crispation, and
 
 DECIMATION. DEFUSED. DEGENERATE. 339 
 
 colours " as qualities of hair and feathers ; and that heat 
 causes pilosity and crispation. See Syl. Syl. 852. Milton, 
 in his classic way, speaks of "crisped brooks." (" Par. L," 
 IV. 237) 
 
 54. Decimation. Dr. Abbott (" Shak. Gram.," p. 14) 
 points out that Shakespeare uses the word ^^ decimation in 
 its technical sense, for a tithed death " Decimo is ** to 
 select by lot every tenth man for punishment." 
 
 By decimation, and a tithed death 
 
 .... take thou the destined tenth, 
 
 And by the hazard of the spotted die, 
 
 Let die the spotted. {Tiinon V. iv. 31). 
 
 Here the plentiful punning is very Baconian. 
 
 55. Defused : Latin defundo, dcfiisns ; or diffused, difnndo, 
 diffiisus, pour down, or pour out ; is used to indicate what 
 is wild, irregular, scattered — with a metaphorical allusion 
 to water that is spilt, and loses its form. Kent, in disguise, 
 says. 
 
 If but as well I other accents borrow 
 
 That can my speecli defuse . . . 
 
 {Lear I. iv. i). 
 
 Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once 
 
 Witli some diffused song. 
 
 (Merry Wives IV. iv. 53). 
 
 Diffused attire — and everything that seems unnatural. 
 
 {Hen. V. V. ii. 61). 
 
 Defused infection of a man. 
 
 {Rich. III. I. ii.78). 
 
 56. Degenerate : correlative to generous {q.v.) to imply 
 loss of that which is implied by genus : high birth, noble 
 descent. Hence it implies loss of caste ; forfeiture of the 
 credit or prestige belonging to rank. The word is gener- 
 ally applied to persons well born v.ho disgrace their 
 iineage : it casts a slur on their legitimacy. 
 
 Can it be 
 That so degenerate a strain as tliis
 
 340 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Should once set footing in your generous bosoms ? 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. ii. 153). 
 
 Degenerate bastard I I'll not trouble thee ! 
 
 {Lear I. iv. 275). 
 
 Tigers, not daughters . . . most barbarous, most degenerate. 
 
 {lb. IV. ii. 40). 
 
 57. Deject. Latin dcjicio, dcjcctus : cast down, dri\'e 
 out. 
 
 Reason and respect 
 Make livers pale, and lustihood deject. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. ii. 49). 
 
 i.e., cautious carefulness breeds cowardice, and casts away 
 manly strength. 
 
 We may not . . . once deject the courage of our minds 
 
 Because Cassandra's mad. 
 
 {lb. 121). 
 
 These are the only instances in which deject is used as a 
 verb. Once it occurs as an adjective : — Ophelia speaks of 
 herself as "of ladies most deject and wretched." {Ham. 
 III. i. 163). 
 
 58. Delated : Latin defero, delatus, primarily means bear 
 or bring away, carry off — thence to deliver, report : and in 
 a legal sense to bring anyone's name into court in accusa- 
 tion, to denounce. In the sense of deliver over, it occurs, 
 in Hamlet, — 
 
 Giving to you no further personal power 
 
 To business with the King, more tlian the scope 
 
 Of these delated articles allow. {Ham. I. ii. 36). 
 
 In the combined sense of being carried away, and 
 accused, the word probably occurs in a passage where it is. 
 misprinted : — 
 
 Aye ! but to die, and go we know not where 
 
 . . . and the delated spirit 
 
 To bathe in liery floods, or to reside 
 
 In thrilling region of thick ribbed ice," etc. 
 
 {Meas.for Meas. III. i. 118)..
 
 DELATION. 341 
 
 Cowden Clarke suggests delated instead of the usual 
 reading delighted, which is not applicable to the situation ; 
 while the classic sense of delated, implying that the spirit 
 is wafted away, and at the same time accused and led awa}' 
 to judgment, exactly accords with the sense of the passage. 
 Cowden Clarke confirms this reading by a reference to 
 Bacon's use of the same word : speaking of sound, as 
 carried through the air, "To try exactly the time wherein 
 sound is delated, let a man stand in a steeple," etc., etc. 
 , . . "it is certain that the delation of light is in an 
 instant." {Syl. Syl. 209). That delated is the right word 
 is, I think, almost proved by a remarkably corresponding 
 sentence in Bacon's Latin. I can scarcely think this an 
 accidental resemblance. The words are — Cum forte 
 mens humana ad veritatem aliquem casu quopiam tan- 
 quam secunda tempestate delata acquiesceret : — When 
 the mind by some chance has found repose in any truth as if 
 delated by a prosperous whirlwind. (Temp. Part. Max. 
 Works III. 529-30). This is the delated condition de- 
 scribed in the lines almost immediately following : — 
 
 To be imprisoned in the viewless winds, 
 And blown with restless violence about 
 The pendent world. 
 
 {lb. 124). 
 
 59. Delation, from the same root, has the same sense of 
 whirling and accusing. lago, by abrupt interruptions 
 in his speech, as if he were checking some unwelcome 
 utterance, alarms Othello, who finds in "these stops," not 
 such customary tricks as a knave might use, — 
 
 But in a man that's just 
 They're close delations, working from the heart 
 That passion cannot rule. 
 
 (0///. III. iii. 122). 
 
 i.e., they are secret accusations, swiftly conveyed by 
 involuntary gesture and agitated utterance. Bacon also 
 says, "Water doth help the delation of echo, as well as it
 
 342 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 helpeth the delation of original sounds." {Syl. Syl. 243). 
 "Both (sights and sounds) are of sudden and easy genera- 
 tion and delation.'"' {lb. 257). 
 
 60. Demerits : has in its classic sense exactly the opposite 
 meaning to that which it bears in vernacular speech ; i.e., 
 it does not refer to faults, worthy of blame, but to good 
 qualities, which are to be commended. Deinero is an 
 extensive form of mereo, which primarily means only to 
 gain, or acquire, and then to earn, or deserve. Demerco 
 means I get by merit, deserve. 
 
 My demerits 
 May speak, unbonnetted, to as proud a fortune 
 As this that I have reach'd. 
 
 {OtJi. I. ii. 22). 
 
 Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall 
 Of his demerits rob Cominus. 
 
 {Cor. I. i. 275). 
 
 The ordinary meaning of the word, as now employed, was 
 current in Shakespeare's time, and in one instance he has 
 so used it, though even here the demerits are not real, but 
 arise from the false estimate of a tyrant : — 
 
 Not for their own doiicrils, but for mine. 
 Fell slaughter on their souls. 
 
 {Much. IV. iii. 276). 
 
 So that the classic use was one of election in the poet's 
 mind. 
 
 61. Demise: Latin demitto, let something go down, or 
 descend, let fall ; a legal term used once by Shakespeare, 
 and by no other poet. The one instance of its use is the 
 following : — 
 
 Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour. 
 Canst thou demise to an}^ child of mine ? 
 
 {Ric/i. III. IV. iv. 246). 
 
 62. Depend.- Latin dependo, hang down or on; hold in 
 suspense 
 
 We'll slip you for a season, but our jealousy
 
 DEPRAVE. DEPRAVATION. 343 
 
 Does yet depend. 
 
 {Cymb. IV. iii. 22). 
 
 Wilt thou be fast to my hopes if I depend on the issue ? 
 
 {pth. I. iii. 369). 
 
 63. Deprave : depravation : Latin depravo, from the root 
 pravus, crooked, not straight, distorted, deformed. By 
 extension from the physical to the moral sphere it comes 
 to mean perverse, vicious, bad, — depraved. The primary 
 meaning then of the Enghsh word deprave is to distort, 
 pervert, misrepresent, caricature, — to represent what really 
 exists under a distorted form, not to invent a calumny, but 
 to pervert a true fact. The secondary meaning is to vilify, 
 slander, traduce, calumniate ; and this is usually given in 
 glossaries as the primary meaning. The passages in Bacon 
 in which the word is used, — and for the most part those in 
 Shakespeare, — are more accurately interpreted if the 
 primary sense of misrepresent, distort, is understood, and 
 it seems to me that in his use of the word Bacon keeps 
 more strictly to the etymology of the word than his com- 
 mentators and globsarists do. The sense of distortion, or 
 misrepresentation or caricature is plainly implied in the 
 following phrases used by Cicero : Quasdam contra 
 naturam depravata ; and, haec non est interpretatio sed 
 depravatio. In Bacon, we find the word almost always 
 means not calumny or slander (as the Editors say), but 
 misinterpretation, misrepresenting, caricature. The follow- 
 ing passage illustrate this, — " If afteclion lead a man to 
 favour the less worthy in desert, let him do it without 
 deprav'ng or disabling the better deserver." (Essay 49). 
 " That other conceit that learning should undermine the 
 reverence of laws and government, is assuredly a mere 
 depravation and calumny, without all shadow of truth." 
 ("Advancement of Learning" I. ii. 8). "Many wits and 
 industries have been spent about the wit of some one, [by 
 expositors of Plato, Aristotle and the ancient philosophers], 
 whom many times they have rather depraved than illus- 
 trated." {lb. I. iv. iz). No calumny is intended, but
 
 344 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 simply misinterpretation — as in Cicero's Non interpretatio 
 sed dcpravatio. 
 
 " It is the manner of men to scandalize and deprave that 
 which retaineth the state and virtue, by taking advantage 
 of that which is corrupt and degenerate.'" {lb. I. iv. i). 
 Bacon's antithesis implies that scandalize applies to that 
 which is corrupt ; deprave to that which is degenerate, or 
 not up to the level which is expected. 
 
 Bacon, speaking of the opinions of Aristotle about 
 generation and corruption, after referring to him with 
 approval, adds, " Neque tamen desinit ille vir id quod ab 
 eo recte inventum fuit, statim corrumpere et depravere.''' 
 {Nov. Org. II. 35), As he is referring to physical theories 
 the most natural meaning of these words is — to corrupt 
 and distort, or misrepresent. 
 
 Bacon's use of pravitas, as=distortion, is illustrated by the 
 following : — In verbis autem gradus sunt quidam pravitatis 
 et error is, — there are degrees of distortion and error in the 
 use of words : privitas and error are thus distinguished. 
 
 The word deprave is used in this same sense, — perversion, 
 misrepresentation, in the Observations on a Libel. 
 ("Life" I. 149-150). 
 
 There is a Projnus note (1072) which throws more light 
 on the sense in which the word deprave is used by Bacon. 
 Nil tarn bonum est quin male narrado possit depravarier. 
 There is nothing so good that it may not be depraved (dis- 
 torted, caricatured, misrepresented) by reporting it badly. 
 So Kent tells Lear. 
 
 I can mar a curious tale in the telling of it. 
 
 {Lear I. iv. 35). 
 
 In Shakespeare the same sense is implied : — 
 
 Do not give advantage 
 To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme 
 
 For dcpravaiioii, to square the general sex 
 By Cressid's note. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. V. ii. 130).
 
 DEROGATE. DEROGATION. 345 
 
 Troilus is speaking, — and he is really seeking for some 
 excuse for Cressida; he would gladly explain away sinister 
 appearances, and not judge falsely, misinterpreting, or 
 depraving the theme on which his censure is invited. 
 
 Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys 
 That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander. 
 
 {Much Ado V. i. 94). 
 
 Antonio, who is speaking with uncontrollable grief and 
 anger, may not be supposed to select his terms with nice 
 discrimination. But it is evident that slander and deprave 
 are not the same, and that probably slander was the more 
 advanced and intense meaning. Deprave, as elsewhere, 
 means distorting facts, — slander is evil invention. 
 
 In the one other passage in Shakespeare where the word 
 is used there is nothing to fix the exact significance of the 
 words : — Apemantus, the scoffer, speaks : — 
 
 Who Hves that's not depraved or depraves ? 
 
 {Timon I. ii. 145). 
 
 It seems to me that the exact meaning of this word has 
 escaped the critics, both of Bacon and Shakespeare. The 
 more nearly the classic sense is adhered to, the more clear 
 do the passages in which it occurs become. 
 
 64. Derogate — derogation : Latin derogo, derogatus, to 
 repeal part of a law, to detract from or diminish anything. 
 Cicero has de lege aliquid derogare. Derogation means 
 loss of caste or dignity, or estimation. 
 
 From her derogate body never spring 
 A babe to honour her ! 
 
 {Lear I. iv. 302). 
 
 Cloten. — Is there no derogation in it ? 
 Lord. — You cannot derogate, my lord. 
 Cloten. — Not easily I think. 
 
 Lord. — (Aside) You are a fool granted ; therefore your issues 
 being foolish, do not derogate. 
 
 iCywb. II. i. 48).
 
 346 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 65. Determine : — determinate : — determination : Latin 
 determino, determinates, determinatio, come to an end. 
 The etymological meaning is often understood as a ground 
 of the vernacular import. It is often used in a legal way ; 
 the legal usage being derived from the radical meaning. 
 
 Must all determine here ? {Cor. III. iii. 43). 
 
 I purpose not to wait on fortune till 
 
 These wars deteniiiiie. 
 
 {lb. V. iii. 119). 
 
 It will detenuiiic one way. 
 
 {Ant. a. IV. iii. 2). 
 
 Now where is he that will not stay so long 
 Till his friend, sickness, liath determined me. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. v. 81). 
 
 The sly, slow hours shall not determinate 
 The dateless limit of thy dear exile. 
 
 (A'/t77. //. I. iii. 150). 
 
 So should that l:)cauty which j'ou hold in lease 
 
 Find no determination. 
 
 (Sonnet 13). 
 
 My determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. 
 
 {Tw.N. II. i. 11). 
 
 In this line there are three Latin words, only intelligible 
 by the help of a Latin dictionary. See Extravagancy and 
 mere (post). 
 
 66. Digested : Latin digero, gessi, spread abroad, or 
 distribute. 
 
 Come on my son, in wliom my house's name 
 
 Must be digested. {Alfs Welt V. iii. 73). 
 
 67. Dilated : Latin differo, dilatus, carry from each 
 other, spread ; or more probably representing dilato — 
 spread out, enlarge, amplify. 
 
 After them, and take a more dilated farewell. 
 
 {All's WetlU. i. 58). 
 
 I will not praise thy wisdom 
 
 Whicli like a bourn, a pale a shore confines
 
 DISCOLOURED. DISSEMBLE. 347 
 
 Thy spacious and dilated parts. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. iii. 259). 
 
 68. Discoloured : Latin discolor, in various colours, party- 
 coloured, variegated. Generally applied in Shakespeare to 
 the colour of blood when shed on the ground. 
 
 Or with their blood stain this discolour d shore. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV. i. 11). 
 
 Many a widow's husband groveUing lies, 
 Coldly embracing the discolour d earth. 
 
 {Joint II. i. 305). 
 
 In Marlowe the classic sense is completely reflected : — • 
 
 The walls were of discoloured jasper stone. 
 
 {Hero L. 36). 
 
 The colours are not lost, or injured, but multiplied. 
 
 6g. Dissemble : Latin dissiumlo, disguise, conceal, feign 
 that a thing is different from what it really is. (Quae non 
 sunt, simulo : quae sunt ea dissimulentur.) 
 
 I would dissemble with ni}- nature where 
 
 My fortunes and my friends at stake required 
 
 I should do so in honour. 
 
 [Cor. III. ii. 62). 
 
 The clown, putting on a gown and beard for disguise, 
 says, — 
 
 I'll put it on and will dissemble myself in it, and I would I were 
 
 the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. 
 
 {Tu.'. N. IV. ii. 5). 
 
 On this passage Cowden Clarke comments thus : — 
 "Shakespeare here uses the word dissemble in the sense 
 borne by the Latin word dissimulare, to cloak, disguise, 
 conceal, or dissemble : thus affording ground for the 
 clown's pun while putting on the clerical gown. Mr. 
 Stevens, the commentator, sneeringly remarks that 
 ' Shakespeare has here stumbled on a Latinism ; thus 
 Ovid, speaking of Achilles, Vestc virum louga dissimulatus 
 erat.' But not only do we believe that Shakespeare was
 
 34^^ SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 far more intimately and appreciatively acquainted with 
 Ovid than the sneering commentator ; we also believe that 
 he never stumbled on any word he uses ; on the contrary, 
 he shews a most special and discriminating accuracy in the 
 choice, adaptation and employment of the epithets he 
 introduces, thereby giving one of the many proofs that he 
 had a greatly profounder knowledge of classical languages, 
 and the true etymology of his own, than superficial judges 
 have ever been able to perceive or willing to allow." 
 
 Bacon (" Discourses on Church Edification ") writes : — 
 " That reverence should be used to the Church which the 
 good sons of Noah used to their father's nakedness, to help 
 the defects thereof, and yet to dissemble them." ("Life" 
 III. io6). 
 
 70. Distract : distraction : Latin distraho, distractus, 
 drag asunder, divide into small parcels or detachments. 
 In this sense these words are sometimes used in Shake- 
 speare. As a rule distraction means madness, lunacy. 
 
 Our bodies are our gardens . . . we supply it with one gender of 
 herbs, or distract it with many. — Olh. I. iii. 323. 
 
 To the brightest beams distracted clouds give way. 
 
 {All's nV//V. iii. 34). 
 
 Most worthy sir, you therein throw away 
 
 The absolute soldiership you have by land, 
 
 Distract your army. 
 
 {Ant. CI. III. vii. 42). 
 
 His power {i.e. army) went out in such distractions, as 
 Beguiled all spies. {lb. 77). 
 
 71. Document : is used once in its classic and etymological 
 sense, from Latin doceo, teach : give a lesson or instruction; 
 dociimentum = 2i lesson, or example, — a typical specimen, an 
 object-lesson. So Tacitus writes {A'^r. 2, 3), Dedimus 
 profecto grande patientise documentum, a striking example 
 of patience. It occurs only once in Shakespeare. Bacon 
 writes, — " Ethica obsequium Theologian omnino prsestare 
 debet, ej usque prasceptis morigera esse ; ita tarnen ut ipsa.
 
 DOCUMENT. DOUBLE. 349 
 
 intra suos limites, haud pauca sana et utilia documenta 
 continere possit " {De Aug. VII. 3, Work? I, 732 ; \. 20), 
 implying that though Ethics is subordinate to Theology, 
 yet "within its own limits it may furnish man}- sound and 
 useful lessons.''' 
 
 A doctinienf in madness. 
 
 (Haw. IV. V. 178). 
 
 The word is similarly used by Spenser (" Fairy Queen " 
 I. .X. 19). 
 
 And that her sacred book, with bloody writ 
 That none could read, except she did them teach. 
 She unto him disclosed every whit. 
 And heavenly docinnents thereout did preach. 
 
 Raleigh ("History of the World") writes, — "They were 
 stoned to death as a document to others." See Professor 
 Spencer Baines' "Shakespeare Studies," p. 264. Shake- 
 speare's use of the word corresponds more exactly to the 
 classic sense than Spenser's or Raleigh's. 
 
 72. Double : is used in a curiously classic sense in, — 
 
 The magnifico is much beloved. 
 
 And hath in his effect a voice potential. 
 
 As double as the Duke's. 
 
 (0///. I. ii. 12). 
 
 The Latin word duplex, among other sen es, also may 
 mean thick, strong, stout. On the above passage Theobald 
 notes, — "It is in truth a very elegant Grecism. 'As 
 double ' signifies as large, as extensive. So the Greeks 
 used StTrXous for latus, gradis, as well as duplex ; and in 
 the same manner and construction the Latins used their 
 duplex." The same classic sense is evidently intended 
 in,— 
 
 His doubled spirit 
 Requickened what in flesh was fatigate. 
 
 {Cor. II. ii. 121). 
 
 See also Fatigate. None of the Editors of Coriolanv% 
 point out this classic use of the word doubled.
 
 350 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 73. Eminent : Latin cuiinens, standing out, conspicuous, 
 lofty, towering above the rest; niinco is to jut, or project. 
 
 Who were below him 
 He used as creatures of another place, 
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks. 
 
 {^AlTs Well I. ii. 41). 
 
 74. Epitheton : the Greek word eVi'6'froi'. 
 
 I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton, appertaining 
 
 to thy young days. 
 
 {Love's Labour's Lost I. ii. 14). 
 
 A word not Hkely to have been used except by a classical 
 scholar. 
 
 75. Err — errant — erring: Latin crro, I wander, rove, 
 
 stray. 
 
 As thou lov'st her 
 Thy love's to me religious, else does err. 
 
 {Atfs Well II. iii. 189). [See Religious]. 
 
 Cowden Clarke paraphrases, — "According as thou lovest 
 her thy love, or loyalty to me, will be duly paid; otherwise 
 it strays from me." 
 
 An erring barbarian. 
 
 (Oth. I. iii. 362). 
 
 The extravagant and erring spirit hies to his confine. 
 
 {Ham. I. i. 154). 
 
 How brief the life of man 
 Runs his erring pilgrimage. 
 
 {As Yon Like It III. ii. 137). 
 
 Tortive and errant from his course of growth. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. I. iii. 9). 
 
 76. Evitaie : Latin cvitare, shun, avoid. An attempt, 
 iiot successful, to introduce a new word. 
 
 She doth evitate and shun 
 A thousand irreligious cursed hours. 
 
 {Mer. W. V. v. 241).
 
 EXEMPT. EXHAUST. EXHIBITION. 35I 
 
 The earliest known use of the cognate substantive is the 
 following :— 
 
 " It is certain that in all bodies there is an appetite of 
 union, and evitation of solution of continuity." Bacon's 
 Syl. Syl. 293. Bacon uses the Latin word evitare, — for 
 example, "ut evitentur ea quae incommoda." {Nov, 
 Org. I. 57). 
 
 jy. Exempt .- Latin exinio, cxcuiptus, take away, remove, 
 banished. 
 
 Be it my wrong you (my husband) are from me cxcmpf. 
 
 {Com. Er. II. ii. 173). 
 
 Stand'st thou not attainted, 
 Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry ? 
 
 (i Hen VI. II. iv. 92). 
 
 78. Exhaust : Latin exhaurio, exliaustwn, draw out, (of 
 liquids) once used in this very primitive sense, and only once. 
 
 Spare not the babe 
 Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy. 
 
 {Tiinon IV. iii. 118). 
 
 79. Exhibition : Latin exhibeo, one of the meanings is, to 
 maintain, support, sustain a person or thing ; and in 
 Shakespeare it is sometimes used in this legal sense of 
 maintenance, allowance, gift or present. Moberly quotes 
 the Roman law phrase, Si liberi ali desiderunt, ut a parente 
 exhibeantur. So we have exhiberc viam, to keep up a road, 
 exhiberc vitain, to support life. 
 
 The King gone to-night ! subscribed his power ! 
 Confined to exliibition ! {Lear I. ii. 24.). 
 
 i.e., restricted to a fixed sum for maintenance. So also in 
 the following : — 
 
 What maintenance he from his friends receives, 
 Like exiiibilioii thou slialt have from me. 
 
 {Two G. V. I. iii. 68). 
 
 I crave fit disposition for my wife
 
 352 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT, 
 
 Due reference of place and exhibition. 
 
 {Olli. I. iii. 237). 
 
 Marry, I would not do sucli a thing for a joint-ring . . . nor an}^ 
 petty cxhibilion. (//). IV. iii. 72). 
 
 Tom-boys hired with that SQli-cxIiibilion 
 
 Which your own coffers 3'ield. 
 
 {Cyinb. I. vi. 122). 
 
 i.e., the same stipend or allowance. 
 
 "She received only a pension or exhibition out of his 
 coffers." (Bacon's "Hen. VII." p. 228). 
 
 80. Exigent : Latin exigo, which may mean to end, com- 
 plete, accomplish, as in Horace's Exegi nionumentum ceri 
 per ennuis. 
 
 These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, 
 Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent. 
 
 (I Hen. VI. II. V. 8). 
 
 Thou art sworn, Eros, that when tiic exigent should come, . . . 
 
 thou then would'st kill me. 
 
 {Ant. CI. IV. xiv. 62). 
 
 81. Exorciser: — exorcism : — exorcist: although this word is 
 now used exclusively for one who lays or dismisses spirits* 
 it is used by Shakespeare for summoning or raising spirits; 
 in analogy with the Latin exorior, to come forth, arise, 
 originate, begin. 
 
 Is there no exorcist 
 Beguiles the truer oftice of mine eyes ? 
 Is't real that I see ? 
 
 (.■i//'.s- irj/ V. iii.305). 
 
 Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up 
 
 ]\Iy mortified spirit. 
 
 {'fnl. Cces. II. i. 323). 
 
 No exorciser harm thee ! 
 
 {Cyinb. IV. ii. 276). 
 
 Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms. 
 
 (2 Hen. 17. I. iv. 4). 
 
 Bacon speaks of Walpole as " a blasphemous exorcist ; "
 
 EXPEDIENT. EXPEDITION. EXPOSTULATE. 353 
 
 and "wherefore full of these evil spirits wherewith so many 
 exorcisms had possessed him." Squire's Conspiracy. 
 ("Life" II. 114, 115, 116). 
 
 82. Expedient: Latin expedio (ex pede) free the feet from 
 a snare, hence it comes to mean without impediment, 
 promptly, hastily, quickly. 
 
 His marches are expedient to this town. 
 
 (Jo//» II. i. 60). 
 
 Expedient marcli. 
 
 {lb. 223). 
 
 Knight (commenting on John II. i. 60), says, " Shake- 
 speare always uses this word in strict accordance with its 
 derivation, as in truth he does most words that may be 
 called learned." 
 
 83. Expedition : same derivation and correlative meaning. 
 
 The expedition of my violent love 
 Outrun the pauser reason. 
 
 {Macb. II. iii. 116). 
 
 Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet ? Have I, in 
 my poor and old motion, the expedition of thought. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. iii. 35). 
 
 She will not fail, for lovers break not hours, 
 Unless it be to come before their time ; 
 So much they spur their expedition. 
 
 {Tic. G. V. V. i. 4). 
 
 Bacon speaks of a logical method as " introduced for 
 expedite use and assurance sake." ("Advancement" II. 
 xiv. 5. Works III. 393). 
 
 84. Expostulate: mediaeval Latin expostiilave, argue, 
 discuss, inquire, investigate : the sense of remonstrance is 
 not included. 
 
 The lime serves not to expostulate. 
 
 (7V. G. V. III. i. 251). 
 
 My liege, and madam, to expostulate 
 What majesty is, what duty is, etc. 
 
 {Ham. II. ii. 86). 
 z
 
 354 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 85. Expulscd : Latin cxpulsus, driven out. Used only 
 once : — 
 
 For ever sliould they be cxptihcd from France. 
 
 (1 Hcu. VI. III. iii. 25). 
 
 Bacon uses the word frequently. " His father being ex- 
 pulsed his dominions by the French." ("Life" I. 21). 
 " Learning will cxpuhc business." (" Adv." Works 
 III. 273). " The very husks and shells of sciences, all the 
 kernel being forced and expuked with the torture and press 
 of the method." [lb. 406). And see "New Atlantis" 
 (Works in. 152). 
 
 86. Exsufflicate : Latin ex, sufflo, blow out. Once only. 
 
 Such cxsufflicatc and blown surmises. 
 
 {Otli. III. iii. 182). 
 
 I.e., inflated; bodiless guesses, bubbles soon blown and soon 
 collapsed. 
 
 87. Extenuate : is one of the words referred to by Hallam 
 as an indication of Shakespeare's Latinity. 
 
 The law of Athens, which by no means we may extenuate. 
 
 {iM. X. D. I. i. 120). 
 
 You may not so extenuate liis offence, 
 
 For I have had such faults. (M. M. II. i. 27). 
 
 It has the meaning of extenuo, make thin or small, lessen, 
 weaken. Bacon, speaking of the Queen's adverse fortune 
 in her youth, says that such a condition " for the most part 
 extcnuateth the mind, and makes it apprehensive of fears." 
 And he concludes his Eulogy on the Queen with — "But 
 why do I forget that words do extenuate and embase matters 
 of so great weight." ("Life" I. 126, 142). 
 
 88. Extirp : Latin exstirpo : pluck up by the root. 
 
 It is impossible to e.xtirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be 
 put down. {Meas. M . III. ii. 109). 
 
 Nor should that nation boast it so with us 
 But be extirped from our provinces. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. III. iii. 23).
 
 EXTRACTING. EXTRAVAGANT. FACINOROUS. FACT. 355 
 
 It is worth noting that this word is practically the same as 
 extirpate, which is also used once [Temp. I. ii. 125), By 
 using indifferently either the current or the classic form, 
 the poet shows his familiarity with both. 
 
 8g. Extracting : Latin cxiraho, extracti, draw out. Once 
 used in a singularly classic way, — in antithesis to distract, 
 which is a word just used by the same speaker ; a distracting 
 frenzy in another is contrasted with an extracting one in 
 the speaker's own mind. 
 
 They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract : . . . 
 
 A most extracting frenzy of my own 
 
 From my remembrance clearly banished his. 
 
 {Tw. N. V. i. 287). 
 
 go. Extravagant — extravagancy : Latin extra and vagare, 
 wander abroad. 
 
 My determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. 
 
 {Tic. N. II. i. II). 
 
 The extravagant and ening spirit hies to his confine. 
 
 {Ham. I. i. 154). 
 
 An extravagant and wheeling stranger 
 Of here and everywhere. 
 
 {0th. I. i. 137). 
 
 gi. Facinorous : Latin Facinus, gen. facinoris, a deed, 
 •especially a bad deed or crime. Facinorosus, wicked, 
 atrocious. Italian Facinoroso, rebellious, contumacious. 
 
 He's of a most facinorous spirit, 
 
 {All's W. II. iii. 35). 
 
 g2. Fact : Always used in the Latin sense — facta, deed, 
 •and invariably wicked deeds — criminal acts. 
 
 Damned fact ! how it did grieve Macbeth ! 
 
 (Macb, III. vi. 10). 
 
 To say the truth this fact was infamous. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. IV. i. 30). 
 
 A fouler /at"/ did never traitor in the land commit. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. I. iii. 176).
 
 356 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 How look I, 
 That I should seem to lack huinunity 
 So much as this/c7t7 comes to ? 
 
 {Cymb. III. ii. 16). 
 
 The powers to whom I pray abhor this /etc/, 
 How can they then assist me in the act. 
 
 {Liicrccc 349). 
 
 Bacon uses the word in the same way : — " He forbad all 
 injuries of fact or word against their persons or followers." 
 ("Hen. VH." Works HI. 72). "That barbarous /ad." 
 (7^. 132). "That most wretched and horrible fact." 
 (Lopez Report, "Life" I. 276). "It is most necessary 
 that the Church ... do damn and send to hell for ever 
 those facts and opinions." (Essay of " Unity in Reli- 
 gion."). 
 
 93. Factious : Latin facio, factum, do, act, busy oneself. 
 
 Sometimes the word means simply busy, active ; usually 
 
 its meaning is the same as is still current, i.e., rebellious,, 
 conspiring. 
 
 Be factious (active) for redress of all these griefs. 
 
 {'Jul. Civs. I. iii. 118). 
 
 You and 3'Our husband Grey 
 Were fdclioiis for the House of Lancaster. 
 
 {Rich. III. I. iii. 127). 
 
 In this passage both senses are probably mtended. 
 
 94. Fatigatc : Latin fatigatus, fatigued, exhausted. 
 
 His doubled spirit 
 Requickened what in flesh \v^sfatii^alc. 
 
 {Coriol. n. ii. 121). 
 
 See also Double. 
 
 95. Festinate : — ly : Latin festino, festinatus, hasten,, 
 speed. 
 
 Advise the Duke, where you are going, to a most fcslinatc pre- 
 paration. {Lear III. vii. 9). 
 
 Bring him fcsiinatcly liither. 
 
 ,(/.. L. L. III. i. 5).
 
 FINE. FORTITUDE. FRACTED. FRACTION. 357 
 
 96. Fine : used often for the Latin finis, the end. The 
 proverb, finis coronal opus, is imphed in the following : — 
 
 All's well that ends well ; still i\\Q fine's the crown. 
 
 {All's W. IV. iv. 35). 
 
 Time's office is io fine the hate of foes. 
 
 {Liicrccc 936). 
 
 A legal pun is implied in the double use of fine and finer 
 in — " Andthe_/z;ic is, for the which I may go \.\\e finer, I 
 will live a bachelor." (M. Ado, I. i. 247.). The same 
 pun, much amplified, is uttered by Hamlet in the grave- 
 digging scene, where the word has four different meanings : 
 " Is this the ^»g oi his fines . . . to have his //zc pate full 
 of_/z»t' dirt ? " {Ham. V. i, 115.). 
 
 Fineless, meaning endless, occurs once. 
 
 Riches, find CSS, is as poor as winter. 
 
 (0///. III. iii. 173). 
 
 97. Fortitude : Latin fortis, strong. The original sense is 
 used in Othello, — 
 
 The foititiidc of the place is best known to you. 
 
 {Oth. I. iii. 222). 
 
 g8. Fracted : Latin frango, fractiLS, break, broken. 
 
 His heart is fracted. 
 
 {Hen. r. II. i. 130). 
 
 My reliances on h'ls fracted dates have smit my credit. 
 
 {Tiiiioii II. i. 22). 
 
 99. Fraction : same root. 
 
 Distasteful looks and hard/rat7/o//s (broken sentences). 
 
 {Tiiiion II. ii. 220). 
 
 Their /yvztV/o;/ is more our wish tlian their faction. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. iii. 107). 
 
 i.e., we prefer that they should be divided among them- 
 selves than busily united for us. 
 
 The fractions of her faitli, orts of her love, 
 
 {lb. V. ii. 158).
 
 35^ SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 100. Fnistraii : Latin frustvo, frustrates, deceive, dis- 
 appoint, make to be of no effect, vain, useless. 
 
 Bid him vicld, being so fnistralc. 
 
 {Anf. CI.W i i). 
 
 The sea mocks our fruslralc search on land. 
 
 (Temp. III. iii. lo). 
 
 loi. Generous .- — generosity : — gentle : — gentility: Latin 
 generosus, — a person of genus, or rank, or of gentle birth. 
 In modern usage generous and gentle are no longer 
 associated, — in Shakespeare, the original radical sense of 
 well-born unites them : — 
 
 He said he was gentle, but unfortunate. 
 
 (Cyiiib. IV. ii. 39). 
 
 He mines my genlility with my education. 
 
 {AsYoH Likclt\.\.2i). 
 
 The generous and gravest citizens. 
 
 (Mens, for Meas. IV. vi. 14). 
 
 Edmund, seeking to reason away the disadvantages of 
 illegitimacy, says, — 
 
 Why bastard ? Wherefore base ? 
 When my dimensions are as well compact, 
 M}' mind as generous ... as honest madam's issue. 
 
 {Lear I. ii. 6). 
 
 Coriolanus, in his hatred of the common people, speaks 
 of their demand as enough 
 
 To break the heart of generosity 
 
 And make bold power look pale. 
 
 {Cor. I. i. 215). 
 
 So Bacon says, " Neither is the commandment of tyrants 
 much better over people which have put off the generosity 
 of their minds" (Works IIL 316), w'hich Dr. Aldis Wright 
 interprets, "nobilit}'." " All the great families, noble and 
 generous of the kingdom." (" Life " IV. 2S5). 
 102. Glory. (See Chapter XL, section i.)
 
 GRATULATE. ILLUSTRATE. IMMANITY. IMMINENT. 359 
 
 103. Gratulatc : Latin gratulo—ihe Latin form of the 
 word congratulate ; or, in the second instance, the 
 correlative adjective. 
 
 Gratulatc his safe return to Rome. 
 
 {Tit. A.\.\. 221). 
 
 There's more behind that is more gratulatc. 
 
 {Mcas.for Mcas. V. i. 535). 
 
 104. Illustrate : Latin Ilhstro ; connected with iUucesco, 
 and /m.t,— light up, make light, bright, illuminated, 
 renowned. 
 
 Tlie magnanimous and most illustrate king. 
 
 (L. L. L. IV. i. 65). 
 
 This most gallant, illustrate and learned gentleman. 
 
 {lb. V. i. 128). 
 
 The root meaning of the word is excellently employed by 
 Bacon in a letter to the King:— "When your Majesty 
 could raise me no higher, it was your grace to illustrate me 
 with beams of honour." (" Life" VIL 168. Also p. 70). 
 
 " Many wits and industries have been spent about the 
 wit of some one, whom many times they have rather 
 depraved than illustrated" ("Advancement" L iv, 12. 
 Op. in. 290). (See Deprave). 
 
 105. Imuianity • Latin hnmanitus, — the opposite of 
 hiimanitas, kindness; i.e., inhumanity, or ferocity. 
 
 Such iinmaiuly and bloody strife. 
 
 (I Hen. VI. V i. 13). 
 
 This is evidently an unsuccessful attempt to anglicize a 
 Latin word. 
 
 106. hnuiineni : imuiinence : Latin Invninco ; overhang, 
 threaten. In its distinctively classic sense imminent 
 means not only about to happen, but threatening to 
 happen, menacing ; and in this sense it is employed, in six 
 out of the seven instances in which it occurs in Shake- 
 speare : and even in the seventh this meaning is possible.
 
 360 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 and indeed preferable, though not necessary. The 
 ambiguous case is, 
 
 The iniittinciit decay of wrested pomp. 
 
 (itolii! IV. iii. 154). 
 
 There is no ambiguity in the other instances. 
 
 luimincnt death. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. V. iii. 19, and Ham. IV. iv. 60). 
 
 Dangers as infinite as iiumincni. 
 
 [Tro. Cr. IV. iv. 70). 
 
 Evils iiitniiiiciif. 
 
 {'Jul. CO'S. II. ii. 81). 
 
 The imminent deadly breach. 
 
 {pill. I. iii. 136). 
 
 In the morn and liquid dew of youth 
 Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
 
 {Ham. I. iii. 41J. 
 
 Imminence occurs only once, and is evidently coined by 
 the poet. 
 
 I dare all imminence that gods and men 
 Address their dangers in. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. V. x. 13). 
 
 107. Immure : Latin mums, a wall. 
 
 Troy, within whose strong immures, the ravish'd Helen . . . 
 sleeps. {Tio. Cr. Prologue 8). 
 
 108. Impertinency : impertinent : Latin pertinco, with the 
 negative prefi.x in— i.e., not related to or belonging to the 
 subject. 
 
 O, Matter and Impertinency mixed 
 Reason in Madness. 
 
 {Lear IV. vi. 178). 
 
 The suit is impertinent to mvsclf. 
 
 {Mer. Yen. n.n. 146). 
 
 " Some there are, who, though they lead a single life, 
 yet their thoughts do end with themselves, and account
 
 IMPLORATOR. IMPONED. IMPOSE. 361 
 
 future times inipertinencies.'" (Essay 8. of "Marriage." 
 See also Essay 26, of "Seeming Wise''). 
 
 Nihil ad se pertinentia, would reprisent the idea in Latin. 
 The answers made by our Saviour to questions, were, 
 Bacon says, in many cases, "Impertinent to the state of the 
 question demanded, non ad rem, sed quasi inipertinentia." 
 ("Advancement" II. xxv. 17. Op. III. 486. De Aug. ix. 
 Op. I. 836). 
 
 log. Implorator : adapted from the Latin iinploro, 
 impioratio, beseech, entreat, beg earnestly. 
 
 Mere implomtors of unholy suits. 
 
 {Hani. I. iii. 129). 
 
 110. hnponed .- Latin impono, put upon, as, ex. gr. the 
 stakes of a wager. The word is put into the mouth Osric, 
 the affected and pedantical courtier ; and derisively echoed 
 by Hamlet. 
 
 Osric. — The king, sir, hatli wagered with liim six Barbary horses ; 
 against the which he has tiuponcd, as I take it, six French rapiers, 
 etc. . . . 
 
 Ham. — Why is this " imponai" as 3-ou call it. 
 
 {Ham. V. ii. 154). 
 
 111. Impose: imposition: from the same Latin root, 
 impono. It has nothing to do with cheating, but is used in 
 a purely classic sense. Of putting upon one any duty or 
 penalty. 
 
 According to your ladyship's impose. 
 
 {Tifo Gciii. Vcr. IV. iii. 8). 
 
 Impose me to what penance vour invention 
 Can lay upon my sin. 
 
 {M.AdoX. i. 283). 
 
 I have on Angelo imposed the office. 
 
 {Meas.for Mcas. I. iii. 40). 
 
 I do desire you 
 Xot to deny this imposition 
 The which my love, and some necessity 
 Now lavs upon voii. 
 
 (Mer. Wn. III. iv. 32).
 
 362 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 If black scandal or foul-faced reproach 
 Attend the sequel of your iniposilion. 
 
 {Rich III. III. vii. 231). 
 
 112. Incarnadine: from Latin car;n"s, flesh. 
 
 The multitudinous seas incarnadine. 
 
 {Macb. II. ii. 62). 
 
 The whole line is very classic in its tone, and more Greek 
 
 than Latin. It recalls the ttovtiwv KVfjiaTwv dv/jpiOfiov yeXdafxa 
 
 of iEschylus : the multitudinous laugh of ocean, — the 
 unnumbered smilings of the waves. 
 
 113. Incense, as a verb : Latin incendo, incendi, incensum, 
 to kindle, inflame, set fire to ; and secondarily to rouse, 
 excite, provoke. 
 
 I will incense Page to deal with poison. 
 
 (Mer. IF. I. iii. 109). 
 
 To Hy the boar before the boar pursues 
 Were to incense the boar to follow us. 
 
 {Rich. III. III. ii. 28). 
 
 The world, too saucy with the gods, 
 Incenses them to send destruction. 
 
 {■Jul. Cics. I. iii. 12). 
 
 So Bacon, in Observations on a Libel, says, " We have 
 incensed none by our injuries." ("Life" I. 176). 
 "Tiberius, upon a stinging and incensing speech of 
 Agrippina." (" Advancement " Op. III. 458). The primary 
 classic sense of incense is found in the Essay of " Adver- 
 sity. " " Virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when 
 they are incensed," which may mean either set on fire, or 
 excited, — or (ambiguously) kindled. 
 
 114. Incertain : not so frequent as uncertain. The cor- 
 relative nouns incertainty and uncertainty are about equally 
 used. Incertain is sometimes used with the Latin sense of 
 unsettled, not fixed, i.e., in the mind not in the fact : a 
 subjective rather than an objective doubtfulness.
 
 INCLUDE. INCLUSIVE. 363 
 
 To be worse than worst 
 
 Of those that lawless and iiiccrtain thoughts 
 
 Imagine howling. 
 
 {Measure for Measure III. i. 126). 
 
 You consider little 
 
 What dangers, b}' his highness' fail of issue 
 
 May drop upon his kingdom, and devour 
 
 lucertain lookers-on. 
 
 {Winters TaleY. i. 26). 
 
 When Bacon speaks of the "doubtfulness and inccrtainty 
 of law." ("Advancement" II. xxiii. 49, Op. III. 231), the 
 doubt may be either in the law (objective) or in the inter- 
 pretation (subjective). When he sa3-s that words are full 
 of "flattery and uncertainty'" {lb. p. 458), the uncertainty 
 is objective. But the distinction is not invariably observed. 
 
 115. Include is twice used in the sense of the Latin 
 inchido, close, finish, resolve into. 
 
 We will include all jars 
 With triumphs, mirth and rare solemnity. 
 
 {Tw. G. V. V. iv. 160). 
 
 Then everything includes itself in power. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. I. iii. 119). 
 
 Speaking of the Queen as a type of great rulers, Bacon 
 says, "The Commonwealth's wrong is included in them- 
 selves." ("Life" I. 129), where the word included may 
 mean either concentrated, or contained. 
 
 116. Inchisive : also from inchido, in its primary sense of 
 shut up or in. Although the current import of the word is 
 derived from its original classic sense, 3^et the classic tone 
 is very clear, and must have been consciously present to 
 the poet in the following passages — the onl}^ ones in which 
 the word is found in Shakespeare. Helen, speaking of the 
 specifics for medical use left to her by her father, describes 
 them : — 
 
 As notes whose faculties inclusive were 
 
 More than tliev were in note. 
 
 {AlFs Well I. iii. 232).
 
 364 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 I would to Ciod that iiicliisi7'c verge 
 
 Of golden metal that must round my brow 
 
 Were red-hot steel to sear me to the brain. 
 
 (Rich. HI. IV. i. 59). 
 
 117. Indigcsi: whenever it occurs in Shakespeare is 
 evidently an echo of Ovid's verse, — Quern dixere chaos, 
 
 rudis indigestaque moles. 
 
 Be of good comfort, prince ; for you are born 
 
 To set a form upon that iiidigcst, 
 
 Which he liath left so shapeless and so rude. 
 
 {John V. vii. 25). 
 
 Cowden Clarke remarks that Golding's translation 
 of Ovid, which the poet may have seen, does not contain 
 the word indigest, — while the original Latin does not con- 
 tain any word exactly corresponding to shapeless. 
 Golding's version is : — 
 
 Which chaos hight, a huge rude heap 
 
 No sun as yet with light tlie sliapclcss world did view : — 
 
 which seems to prove that Shakespeare knew both the 
 original and Golding's translation, as he adopts the 
 characteristic words of each. 
 
 Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, 
 
 And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ; — 
 
 To wit an indigested and deformed lump. 
 
 (3 Ha,. VI. V. vi. 49). 
 
 The True Tragedy,— the first draft of 3 Hen. 17.— has "an 
 indigest created lump." 
 
 To make of monsters and things indigest 
 Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble. 
 
 (Son. 114). 
 
 Browne (Brittannia's Pastorals, Book I) has " A chaos, 
 rude and indigest." It seems as if the entire Ovidian 
 passage is always alluded to when the word indigest is 
 employed. 
 
 118. Indign: Latin indignus, unworthy, shameful.
 
 INDUBITATE. INEQUALITY. 365 
 
 Let all indign and base adversities 
 Make head against my estimation. 
 
 {0th. L iii. 274). 
 
 Bacon writes: — "There be four means whereby the 
 death of the King may be compassed and imagined. . . . 
 The fourth by disabhng his regiment, and making him 
 appear to be incapable or indign to reign." Conference 
 with Coke. (" Life " V. 109). 
 
 119. Induhitatc: Latin Indubitatus — undoubted. 
 
 The indubitate beggar. 
 
 {Love's Labour s Lost IV, i. 67). 
 
 Bacon, referring to the line of York, says it was "held 
 then the indubitate heirs of the Crown." ("Hen. VIL" 
 Works VL 30). 
 
 120. Inequality .- is a word which occurs only once in 
 Shakespeare, and then it is used in a very metaphysical 
 way, the meaning being somewhat obscure. The Duke, 
 in Measure for Measure, is winding up the tangled skein of 
 affairs, which by his absence had grown complicated and 
 perplexing. He is listening to the complaint of Isabella. 
 At first he affects belief in her insanity ; but then he com- 
 ments thus on her pleading : — 
 
 By mine honesty, 
 If she be mad, — as I believe no other, — 
 Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, 
 Such a dependency of thing on thing 
 As e'er I heard in madness. 
 
 And Isabella replies : — ■ 
 
 O, gracious duke, 
 Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason 
 For inequality ; but let your reason serve 
 To make the truth appear where it seems hid, 
 And hide the false, seenis true. 
 
 {Measure for Measure V. i. 59). 
 
 The interpretation of this word is difficult. Perhaps 
 Bacon's use of the words incequalis, incequalitcr, incequalitas
 
 366 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES. IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 ma}' point out the real meaninj; of the word in Shake- 
 speare. In two passages of the Novum Organnm, this word 
 is used, — passages which are themselves obscure, and 
 prompt a foot-note of perplexity to Mr. Spedding. The 
 first passage is as follows : — " Intellectus, nisi regatur et 
 juvetur, res incequalis sit, et omnino inhabilis ad super- 
 andum rerum obscuritatem." {Nov. Org. I. 21). 
 
 In another passage Bacon is discoursing on the Idola 
 Fori, — the idols of the Market, — imposed by words on the 
 understanding. These are either names of things which 
 do not exist, such as Fortune, Primum Mobile, etc. ; or 
 names of things which exist, but are confused and ill- 
 defined, and are " temere et incequaliter a rebus abstracta," 
 — hastily and irregularly derived from realities. (Spedding). 
 Such a word is humid, heavy, light, dense, rare. {Nov. Org. 
 1. 60). In the 41st Aphorism, expounding the special 
 features of the Idola Tribiis, he sa3'S, " Estque intellectus 
 humanus instar speculi inequalis ad radios rerum, quae 
 suam naturam naturae rerum immiscet, eamque distorquet 
 et inficit." The human mind is like a mirror : — Spedding 
 translates, "a false mirror which, receiving rays inequally, 
 distorts and discolours the nature of things by mingling 
 its own nature with it." A paraphrase giving the sense 
 perfectly, but evading the difficulty of giving an exact 
 translation of the words incBqualis ad radios rerum. Isabella 
 cautions the Duke against being ensnared by one of the 
 Idola Tribiis : — he must not distort and discolour facts by 
 putting his own notions upon them. 
 
 Of the first passage, Spedding says, — "I should be in- 
 clined to translate this clause, ' Since the intellect, if it be 
 not guided and assisted, acts irregularly (res insequalis sit), 
 and is altogether unequal to overcome the obscurity of 
 nature.' Thus in § 60 we meet with a similar use of the 
 adverb ' ina^qualiter,' — 'temere et inaequaliter a rebus 
 abstracta,' — rashly and irregularly abstracted from their 
 objects. Or perhaps, though this translation would not 
 be free from objection, inaequalis might be rendered inade- 
 quate, or unequal to the matter in hand."
 
 INEgUALITY. 367 
 
 It is obvious that the word, as used by Shakespeare, 
 refers to the same subject-matter as that referred to in the 
 Organum, i.e., the obscurity of things. Isabella beseeches 
 the Duke not to decide a difficult and obscure case by the 
 use of that which is unfit to cope with it, — i.e., a judgment 
 not aided or ruled by Reason and Experience, — do not 
 banish reason, but let it serve ad siiperandwn rerum 
 ohscuritatem. Or she may challenge his decision that she 
 is mad, as a conclusion temere et insequaliter a rebus 
 abstracta. She has in her mind a large view of the impedi- 
 ments to induction, which Bacon =0 sagaciously 
 portrayed; — she has just before urged "Make not 
 impossible that which but seems unlike," — probably 
 remembering the ancient fallacy, — " quicquid ars aliqua 
 non attingat ad ipsum ex eadem arte impossibile statuunt." 
 {Pref. to Nov. Org. Works I. 127). Isabella begs the 
 Duke not to take a distorted and discoloured impression of 
 the facts, like an uneven mirror. Evidently the poet 
 intended the word to express very much more than anyone 
 can find in it, unless he has studied Bacon's Latin. 
 
 Bacon's philosophy, as one of its fundamental maxims, 
 opposes itself to the inequality of the human mind, which, 
 like a badly-made glass, distorts and misrepresents the 
 nature of things : — Sicut speculum in^equale rerum radios 
 ex figura et sectione propria immutat, ita ut mentem, cum 
 a rebus per sensum patitur, in notionibus suis expediendis 
 et commiscendis hand optima fide, rerum natural suam 
 naturam inserere et immiscere. 
 
 In describing the third part of the Instauration, he says 
 that the senses are both deficient and deceptive in the 
 information they impart. Observation is heedless, unequal, 
 and somewhat haphazard : Indiligens et inaequalis et 
 tanquam fortuita. Inequality is constantly detected and 
 exposed. One of the motives of the whole play. Measure 
 for Meastive, is to show the inequality of law to deal with 
 vices which are not always crimes. 
 
 In another passage Bacon speaks of inequality as a
 
 368 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 mental defect. In his Essay on " Earthly Hope," he 
 describes false or over-weening hope as leading its votary 
 to dwell in a sort of pleasant dream, and "this it is," he 
 adds, "which makes the mind light, frothy, unequal, 
 wandering." "Hoc est quod reddit animum levem, 
 tumidum, inccqualem, peregrinantem." (Works VH. 237, 
 248). So Isabella tells the Duke that by leaving the firm 
 ground of Reason, and surrending himself to conjecture, 
 his mind becomes levis, tumidus, inccqnalis, et peregrinus. 
 The whole passage is redolent of Baconian thought. 
 
 121. Infest: infcstion : Latin infesto, attack, trouble, 
 disturb, injure. The word infest occurs only once in 
 Shakespeare : — 
 
 Do not infcsf your mind with beating on 
 
 The strangeness of this business. — Temp. V. i. 246. 
 
 The classic sense of the word is certainly implied. 
 The word infection in Rich. II. II. i. 44, should probably 
 be infestion, as Farmer conjectured ; thus: — 
 
 This fortress, built by Nature for herself 
 Against infcstion and the liand of war. 
 
 A fortress is more likely to be used against infestion than 
 infection, although, in poetical use, the word infection is 
 not inadmissible, nor is it inappropriate to the general 
 sense of the passage. But no idea cognate to infection is 
 found in the whole speech, while we do find that which is 
 equivalent to infestion — attack, injury, — ex. gr. : 
 
 Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
 Of watery Neptune. {lb. 62). 
 
 122. Inflnence : Latin infino, flow, run, or stream into. 
 In the exact sense required by its Latin derivation this 
 word is us d, in an astrological sense, to express the stream 
 of power that flows from stars or planets. 
 
 The moist star, 
 Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands. 
 
 {Ham. I. i. ri8).
 
 INFLUENCE. INFORM. 369 
 
 I find my zenith doth depend upon 
 A most auspicious star, whose influence, 
 If now I court not but omit, my fortunes 
 Will ever after droop. 
 
 {Temp. I. li. 181). 
 
 The same meaning, used in analogy, is present in : — 
 
 Yet be most proud of that which I compile, 
 
 Whose influence is thine and born of thee. 
 
 (Son. 78). 
 
 Milton uses the word in the same sense : — 
 
 Dawn and the Pleiades before him danced 
 Shedding sweet influence. 
 
 (Par. L. VII. 375). 
 
 123. Inform: Latin informo ; i. To give form, shape to 
 anything ; to fashion, mould, or train the mind ; ii. 
 Secondarily, to represent by a mental image. It is very 
 important to keep the classic sense of this word in view 
 when we are seeking for the deepest and most poetic 
 import of the passages where it occurs. Doubtless, the 
 word often bears only the ordinary, current sense of giving 
 information ; but even where this shallower meaning is 
 sufficient for good sense, the deeper sense is also generally 
 applicable, and in its light the words of the poet gain fresh 
 weight and interest. The classic sense is required in such 
 a benediction as Coriolanus pronounces on his little son ; — 
 
 The god of soldiers, 
 With the consent of Supreme Jove, inform 
 Thy thoughts with nobleness. 
 
 {Cor. V. iii. 70). 
 
 And in the following passage, the metaphysic sense is 
 required : — 
 
 'Twere good 
 You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience 
 Your wisdom may inform you. 
 
 {Cymb. I. i. 77). 
 
 The second sense — that of mental presentation — is curiously 
 
 AA
 
 370 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 implied in Macbeth's dagger scene. He tries vainly to 
 clutch the weapon, and exclaims, — 
 
 There's no such thing ! 
 
 It is the bloody business which in/onus 
 
 Thus to mine eyes. 
 
 {Mach. II. i. 47). 
 
 The spectral dagger is merely the contemplated crime, 
 shaping itself, in symbolic representation, before his eyes. 
 
 So also Hamlet, seeing the body of soldiers eagerly bent 
 on some trifling purpose, says, — 
 
 How all occasions do inform against me 
 And spur my dull revenge. 
 
 {Ham. IV. iv. 32). 
 
 i.e., everything that happens carries some parable or 
 representation of the course he is bound to pursue — shaping 
 itself so as to address itself visibly to the duty which he is 
 neglecting. 
 
 Bacon often uses the word, both in English and Latin ; 
 and wherever the import can be extended beyond that of 
 conveying knowledge, and the deeper metaphysic sense, of 
 giving form or shape to the mind or character is accepted, 
 the larger thought will be evidently more true to Bacon's 
 own idea. Thus, "The bounds of Natural Theology are 
 that it sufficeth to convince atheism, but not to inform 
 religion." (See "Convince,") Inform religion does 
 not mean simply to teach religious truth, but to 
 establish religion as a forming, shaping influence in the 
 mind, giving it actuality, coherence, substantial existence. 
 Bacon thus speaks of the light of nature : — " Lux quae non 
 prorsus clara est, sed ejus modi ut potius vitia quadam 
 tenus redarguat, quam de offlcis plane iiiforiuct.'" — A light 
 which is not absolutely clear, serving rather to rebuke vice 
 to some extent than fully to inform concerning duty. The 
 information thus given is the very vision and intuition of 
 truth itself given by a truth organ, — it is essentially iden- 
 tical with the mind itself. For Bacon's metaphysio
 
 INFORM, INFORTUNATE. INGENIOUS. 371 
 
 identifies knowledge and being : — " Knowledge is not only 
 the excellentest thing in man, but the very excellency of 
 man. . . , The truth of being and the truth of knowing is 
 all one." Thus, information derived from an inner light 
 is not separate from the mind, — it belongs to its very form 
 and essence. Inform is a very profound word, both in 
 Bacon and in Shakespeare. 
 
 124. Infortunate. Latin inforiunatus, liable to misfor- 
 tune, because not favoured by the goddess Fortuna. 
 t/«fortunate is less definitely associated with the gifts of 
 Portune. 
 
 This is tliy eld'st son's son, 
 
 Infortunate in nothing but in thee. 
 
 {John II. i. 177). 
 
 And Henry, though he be infortunate, 
 Assure yourselves, will never be unkind. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV. ix. 18). 
 
 In both these passages there is a sub-reference to Fortune, 
 and consequently a classic colour. 
 
 Bacon writes : — "It hath been often noted that those 
 who ascribe openly too much to their own wisdom and 
 TpoWcy, end'' infortunate" (Essay of "Fortune.") "Vin- 
 dictive persons live the life of witches, who, as they are 
 :mischievous, so end they ^infortunate.''" (Essay of 
 " Revenge.") 
 
 125. Ingenious — ingenium, natural ability, or capacity. 
 Used in a purely classic sense in Lear and Hamlet, and 
 other plays. 
 
 The King is mad : how stiff is my vile sense, 
 That I stand up and have ingenious feeling 
 Of my huge sorrows. 
 
 {Lear IV. vi. 286). 
 
 O treble woe, 
 Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, 
 Whose wicked deed thy most ingeniou.s sense 
 Deprived thee of. 
 
 {Hani. V. i. 269).
 
 372 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 What, that an eel is ingenious f 
 
 {L. L. L. I. ii. 29). 
 
 That is, has great natural abiUty — which may be otherwise 
 termed " quick." (I. 25). 
 
 126. Inhabitable. Latin inhabitabilis, not fit for habita- 
 tion, un-inhabitable. The classic sense is exactly the 
 reverse of the current meaning of the word, which, as used 
 by the Poet, is really a Latin word — not English at all. 
 
 The frozen ridges of the Alps, 
 Or any other ground inhabitable. 
 
 {Ricli. //. l.i. 64). 
 
 The word inhabitabilis is found in ISov. Org. I. 72 : — " Imo 
 et plurima climata et zonae, in quibus populi infiniti spirant 
 et degunt, tanquam inhabitabilcs ab illis pronuntiata sint." 
 Ben Jonson, who was classic to the point of pedantry, 
 has — 
 
 " SoniL- inhabitable place 
 Where the hot sun and slime breed nought but monsters." 
 
 {Cataline V. i.-54). 
 
 127. Inherit, — Inheritor. Generally has a legal sense in 
 Shakespeare — meaning, to possess. But it sometinies 
 bears the meaning reflected from the Latin inhcereo — stick, 
 cling or hang to, adhere or belong to. 
 
 The great globe itself, 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve. 
 
 {Temp. IV. i. 153). 
 
 Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. 
 
 [L. L. L. IV. i. 20). 
 
 These passages, and some others, require the classic sense ; 
 and in both cases the verb (the predicate) does not precede, 
 but follows its object, as in Latin. In other places the 
 ordinary sense, which is now current, is required : — 
 
 Her dispositions she inherits. 
 
 (All's Well I. i. 46). 
 
 Simple possession, without the idea of inheriting from
 
 INHERIT. INSINUATION. INSISTURE. 373 
 
 ancestors, or obtaining by bequest, is implied in many 
 passages. Ex. gr. — 
 
 The sole iiiJicritor {i.e. possessor) 
 Of all perfections that a man may owe {i.e. possess). 
 
 (L. L. L. II. i. 5). 
 
 Such comfort as do lusty young men feel, 
 
 When well-apparell'd April on the heel 
 
 Of limping Winter treads, even such delight, 
 
 Among fresh female buds, shall you this night 
 
 Inhciit at my house. 
 
 (^Ro)u. Jul. I. ii. 26). 
 
 So Milton writes, — in almost Shakespearean tones, — 
 
 It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, 
 
 Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit 
 
 That woman's love can win, or long inherit. 
 
 128. Insinuation : Latin insinuo — put or thrust into, 
 force one's way into. In the current acceptation of this 
 word, insinuation refers to an interference which is more in 
 words and speech than in action. The original sense ot 
 interference by act, as well as speech, is found in 
 Shakespeare, — 
 
 Their defeat 
 Does by their own iiisiniiaiion grow. 
 
 {Ham. V. ii. 58). 
 
 i.e., they thrust themselves into the business, and must take 
 the consequences. 
 
 129. 'Insisture, — insisting : Latin insisto, stand still, halt — 
 used by Cicero in reference to the stars — stellarum motus 
 insistunt ; and by Shakespeare in a similar sense, probably 
 with Cicero's words in his mind, — 
 
 The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre 
 Observe degree, priority, and place, 
 Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, etc. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. I. iii. 85). 
 
 The same idea — of steadfastly taking a stand, is implied 
 in,—
 
 374 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Iiisisiing on the old prerogative. 
 
 {Coriol. III. iii. 17). 
 
 130. Iwitance : "This i.s a word," as Dyce remarks, "used 
 by Shakespeare with various shades of meaning, which it 
 is not always easy to distinguish, — motive, cause, ground, 
 symptom, prognostic, information, assurance, proof, 
 example, indication." Doubtless, it is a word of very 
 tluctuating import. One of its uses, however, may be 
 recognised as a reflection of the Latin quod instat, an inter- 
 pretation supplied by Bacon himself in using the word. 
 For he says, " Men do not take things in order of time as 
 they come on, but marshall them according to greatness, 
 and not according to instance, not observing the good pre- 
 cept, Quod nunc instat aganius." ("Advt." II. xxiii. 38. 
 Op. III. 496). (See post under the word Preposterous, 
 for the full quotations). Here "according to instance" 
 means either what is urgent, or what is imminent, just 
 ready to occur. Some such meaning as this may be seen in 
 the following passages : — 
 
 The Duke comes home to-morrow ; nay, dry your eyes ; 
 
 One of our covent, and his confessor, 
 
 Gives me this instance. 
 
 {Mens. M. IV. iii. 132). 
 
 i.e., he tells me of an event quod instat, — 
 
 A league from Epidamnum liad we sail'd 
 Before the always wind-obeying deep 
 Gave any tragic instance of our harm. 
 
 {Com. of Errois I. i. 63). 
 
 i.e., any indication of what was impending, quod instat, — 
 
 The dangers of the days but newly gone, 
 .... and the examples 
 Of every minute's instance (present now), 
 Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. i. 80). 
 
 I.e., examples of what might happen at any minute. Other 
 examples might be cited.
 
 INSTANT. INSULT. INTEND. 375 
 
 131. Instant: is used in the same sense — quod instat: — 
 
 Take the instant way ; 
 For honour travels in a strait so narrow, 
 Where one but goes abreast. 
 
 (Tro. Cr. III. iii. 153). 
 
 The instant action (2 Hen. IV. I. iii. 37) {i.e., the action 
 hoped for, Hke "appearing buds," ready to burst out 
 into visible form), and many other instances in which the 
 double meaning {i.e., what is actually present, or what is 
 about to happen) are often combined, the current and 
 the classic sense. 
 
 132. Insult, — insultment : — Latin insulto, leap or spring at 
 or upon : hence, to treat abusively. The word, even when 
 used in its current sense, often connotes the signification of 
 jumping on a thing or person, and is used with the 
 addition of the jumping preposition, on or over,— 
 
 Give me thy knife, I will insult on him. 
 
 {Tit. A. III. ii. 71). 
 
 And so he walks insulting o'er his prey. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. I. iii. 14). 
 
 While he [Death] insults o'er dull and speechless tribes. 
 
 (Son. 107). 
 
 Insultment occurs once only, in a cognate sense : — 
 
 He on the ground, my speech of insnltnient ended on his dead 
 body. {Cymb. III. v. 145). 
 
 133. Intend : Latin intcndo, to turn or direct one's self or 
 one's attention or mind to anything — to notice, be 
 absorbed in anything. In Shakespeare both the classic 
 sense, which implies a fixed mental attention to what is 
 present,— and the current sense which simply denotes a 
 purpose relating to the future, are to be found. Often 
 either of these two meanings is applicable : as — 
 
 C?esar througli S^'ria intends his journe}-. 
 
 {Ant. CI. y. ii. 200).
 
 ^i'jb SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Tut ! I can counterfeit the deep tragedian : 
 
 Speak, and looiv bacli, and pry on every side, 
 
 Tremble, and start at wagging of a straw, 
 
 Intcndinii deep suspicion. 
 
 (7e/< //.///. III. V. 5). 
 
 Generally the classic sense is most applicable, — 
 
 And so, inicndinil other serious matters, etc. 
 
 {Tiiiwn II. ii. 219). 
 
 The use of the word intend in the following passage is 
 extremely ingenious, and highly significant of Bacon's 
 thought: — 
 
 Away, my friends ! new flight ; 
 And happy newness that intends old right. 
 
 {John V. iv. 60). 
 
 See a full discussion of this passage in Chap. X., section 
 6, p. 181. 
 
 Bacon often uses the word intend in this classic sense : 
 thus : — " If behaviour and outward carriage be mtended too 
 much, it may pass into affectation." ("Advt." II. xxiii. 3. 
 Works III. 446). "There are minds proportioned to 
 intend many matters, and others to few." (lb. p. 434). 
 
 " Romulus sent ... to the Romans that above all 
 things they should intend arms." (Essay 29). 
 
 And many other passages. 
 
 134. Intentively : is used once only, — in the sense of 
 attentively, from the same root : — participle intenius, fixed, 
 eager, watching attentively : — 
 
 Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 
 
 But not intcniivcly. (Oili. I. iii. 154). 
 
 135. Intenible : from Latin teneo, with the negative 
 prefix in, implying not able to hold. The word represents 
 a possible Latin adjective inienibilis, which is not found. 
 Latin, as well as English, is plastic in the poet's diction. 
 The word occurs only once : — 
 
 In this captious and intenible sieve,
 
 INTRINSE. LETHE. MACULATE. 377 
 
 I still pour in the waters of my love. 
 
 {All's Well I. iil 207). 
 
 See ante, captious, for the entire classic import. 
 
 136. Intrinse, — intrinsecatc : — Latin intrinsecus — on the 
 inside. Shakespeare used the word in a manner pecuhar 
 to himself, to refer to that which being most interior, is 
 also most intricate, complicated, or difficult to manage or 
 alter, — 
 
 Such smiling rogues as these, 
 
 Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain, 
 
 Which are too intrinse t' unloose. 
 
 {Lear II. ii. 79). 
 
 Come, thou mortal wretch \_i.e. the asp], 
 With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsecatc 
 Of life at once untie. 
 
 {Ant. CI. V. ii. 306). 
 
 137. Lethe : this word occurs once only, in a passage 
 where the reading is doubtful. Thus : — 
 
 Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart ; 
 Here did'st thou fall ; and here thy hunters stand, 
 Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy Lethe. 
 
 {Julius Ca'sar III. i. 205). 
 
 If lethe represents the Latin word letum or lethuni, death, 
 it is the solitary instance of such usage ; but Shakespeare 
 uses Latin so freely, and inventively, that there is no ante- 
 cedent improbability in this interpretation of the word ; 
 and it is more suitable to the context than the sense of 
 Lethe as the river of oblivion, which is not crimson at all. 
 
 138. Maculate, — inaculation : Each of these occurs only 
 once ; Latm macula, a spot, especially a foul spot, a 
 blemish or disgrace. 
 
 Most maculate thouglits, master, are masked under such colours. 
 
 {L. L. L. I. ii.96). 
 
 There's no niaculation in tliy heart 
 
 {Tro. Cr. IV. iv. 66). 
 
 139. Merc, — Jitercly : Latin incrus, pure, unmixed, hence
 
 3/8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 by inference, intact, complete, entire. "Not merely, in 
 Bacon, is used for not entirely.'" (Abbott " S. G." 15). 
 
 Tlie mere perdition of the Turkish fleet. 
 
 {0th. II. ii. 3). 
 
 Tlic iiurc despair of surgery, he cures. 
 
 [Macb. IV. iii. 152). 
 
 Things gross and rank in nature possess it merely. 
 
 {Ham. I. ii. 136.) 
 
 "Pure mathematics are those sciences which handle 
 quantity determinate, merely severed from any axioms of 
 Natural Philosophy." ("Adv." II. viii. 2. Works III. 
 360). 
 
 " It is a mere and miserable solitude to want true 
 friends." (Essay 27). 
 
 " Conflagrations and great droughts do not merely (that 
 is utterly) des'.roy." (Essay 58). 
 
 140. Merit: Latin meritum, that which is deserved, i.e., 
 either as a reward or a punishment, — recompense. 
 
 A dearer merit . . . liave I deserved at your highness' hands. 
 
 {Rich. II. I. iii. 156). 
 
 On this C. Knight remarks, "Johnson says, to deserve a 
 merit is a phrase of which he knows not any examples. It 
 is another proof of Shakespeare's attention to the etymology 
 of words, as merit, from the Latin merito, is literally a 
 reward, something earned or gained. Prior has used it in 
 the same sense." 
 
 141. Mirabilc : Latin mirabilis, to be admired or won- 
 dered at. The word occurs only once : it is not English. 
 
 Not Neoptolemus, so mirablc. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. IV. v. 142). 
 
 142. Modesty: Mr. Edwin Reed ("Bacon v. Sh." p. 187) 
 has called attention to the use of this word in the same 
 way as Cicero uses it in De Offic. I. Cicero says that by 
 the Stoics modestia is equivalent to the Greek ivra^ia, and 
 means a setting forth in proper order and shape, — skill in
 
 MODESTY, 379 
 
 the art of expression. Elsewhere in reference to moral 
 conduct, or behaviour, moderation, sobriety, Cicero says, 
 eam virtutem Grseci mafftpoa-vvrjv vocant; quam soleo equidem 
 turn temperantiam, turn moderationem apellare ; non 
 nunquam etiam modestiam. These uses of the word 
 modesty are not infrequent in Shakespeare. 
 
 An excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as 
 much modesty as cunning. 
 
 {Ham. II. ii. 461). 
 
 Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, 
 With thy religious truth and modesty, 
 Now in his ashes honour. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. IV. ii. 73). 
 
 You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. 
 
 {Txv. N. I. iii. 9). 
 
 This last passage corresponds to another definition of 
 Cicero's : — Modestia scientia est opportunitatis idoneorum, 
 ad aliquid agendum, temporum. It is interesting to see 
 the poet's large Latinity appearing in quite unexpected 
 forms. 
 
 Mr. Ruggles ("The Plays of Shakespeare founded on 
 Literary Forms," p. 462), refers to the use of this word 
 Modest in the following passage : — 
 
 Messenger. — I have already delivered him letters, and there appears 
 much joy in him ; even so much that joy could not show itself 
 modest enough without a badge of bitterness. 
 
 Leonato. — Did he break out into tears ? 
 
 Mess. — In great measure. 
 
 Leon. — A kind overflow of kindness ! 
 
 (ii/. Ado. I. i. 20). 
 
 The use of the word Modest in the Latin sense of keep- 
 ing due measure, is noted as a direct reflection of Bacon's 
 philosophy, which requires that in the indulgence of feel- 
 ing, or forming opinions, a true measure should be 
 observed between the mind and its objects. (See Chapter 
 VIL).
 
 380 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Modesty means, what Cicero defines as Scientia oppor- 
 tunitatis, in the following : — 
 
 Win straying souls with modest}- again, 
 
 Cast none away. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. V. ii. 64). 
 
 143. Mure: — mural: 'Lat'muiuyus, a wall. Each of the 
 words occurs only once. No merely English writer would 
 use them. 
 
 The incessant care and labour of his mind 
 
 Hath wrought the imirc, that should confine it in. 
 
 So thin that life looks through and will break out. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. iv. 118). 
 
 Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. 
 
 \^M. N. D. V. i. 209). 
 
 See also circnnimiire and immure. 
 
 144. Name: This word is sometimes used by Shake- 
 speare in one of the classic senses which corresponds to 
 the English usage. Nomen may mean a bond, or debt, or 
 security ; and this sense is to be recognised in the 
 following passages : — 
 
 Nay ! I care not for their names ; they owe me nothing. 
 
 {As Y. L. II. V. 21). 
 
 O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name ; 
 The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. 
 
 {Com. Er. III. i. 44). 
 
 These passages are reflections of such Latin phrases as 
 nomen solvere, to pay a debt ; grandcm pecimiam certis 
 nominibus, good debts well secured ; nomen facere, to book 
 the items of a debt. 
 
 Perhaps another classic sense of the word name may be 
 seen in the following : — 
 
 What earthly name to interrogatories 
 Can task the free breath of a sacred king ? 
 
 {'John III. i. 147). 
 
 This may reflect one of the meanings of the verb nomine —
 
 NASO. OBLIGED, 381 
 
 to accuse, arraign a person before a magistrate, summon to 
 a judicial process. 
 
 145. Naso : the name of the Latin poet, Ovid, — P. 
 Ovidius Naso. This is made into a pun on the word nasus, 
 a nose. 
 
 Ovidius Naso was tlie man ; and \vh}% indeed, Naso, but for 
 smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy ! 
 
 (L. L. L. IV. ii. 128). 
 
 146. Obliged : used classically with the word faith, 
 equivalent to fides obligata, a promise which is binding. 
 
 To keep obliged faitJi unforfeited. 
 
 {Mer. Vou II. vi. 7). 
 
 The same phrase is concealed in the following from 
 Bacon's Essay of "Counsel." "To such as they make 
 their counsellors they commit the whole : by how much 
 the more they are obliged to all faith and integrity.'" 
 (Abbott notes — "Obliged, used here in the Latin sense, 
 bound." 
 
 Bacon writes to Villiers, May 30, 1616, " If I would 
 tender my profit and oblige {i.e., bind) men unto me by my 
 place and practice, I could have more profit than I desire, 
 and could oblige all the world and offend none." (" Life '' 
 V. 347). The classic sense is here obvious. In Shake- 
 speare the word oblige (or obliged), only occurs once, as 
 quoted. The word obligation occurs seven times, and 
 always with a sort of legal flavour of meaning, as almost 
 or quite equivalent to a legal bond. Thus 
 
 The obligation of our blood, forbids 
 A gory emulation 'twixt us twain. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. IV. v. 122). 
 
 Here the French phrase noblesse oblige is probably in the 
 poet's mind. Dick, the Butcher, in Jack Cade's Con- 
 spiracy, accuses the Clerk of Chatham — 
 
 He can make obligations, and write court-hand. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV. ii. 100).
 
 382 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 i.e., he can draw up deeds which will bind men. 
 
 Slender s;iys that Shallow "writes himself ' Armigero,' in any bill, 
 
 warrant quittance or obligation, * Armigero.' 
 
 {Mer. IV. I. i. 9). 
 
 Obligation is generally a legal instrument ; and this 
 meaning it derives by its classic origin. 
 
 147. Occident. Latin occidens, the west : the region of 
 the setting sun. 
 
 The envious clouds are bent 
 To dim his glory, and to stain the track 
 Of his bright passage to the Occident. 
 
 (/vVc//. //. III.iii.65). 
 
 I may wander from East to Occident. 
 
 (Cyntb. IV. ii. 372). 
 
 148. Office; used in the classic sense of officium, duty. 
 Cicero's treatise on " Ethics " is entitled Dc Officiis. 
 
 Whom I, with all the ojfice of my heart, 
 
 Entirely honour. 
 
 (0///. III. iv. 113). 
 
 In the 1622 Quarto the word duty is used. The 1623 Folio 
 has office : — the change is noteworthy. (See Speculative). 
 
 149. Officious ; with a cognate classical signification. 
 
 Come, come, be everyone officious 
 
 To make this banquet. (77/. ^4. V. ii. 202). 
 
 The Kings of Portugal, Bacon says, " were officious " to 
 the King of Spain. (" Life" I. 186). Bacon writes, "Sir 
 Robert Clifford was won to be assured to the King, and 
 industrious and officious in his service." ("Hen. VH." 
 Works VL 144). 
 
 150. Oppugnancy ; derived immediately from the Latin 
 ■oppugnans, resisting, assaulting, fighting against. The word 
 is not Enghsh at all, and occurs only once. 
 
 What discord follows ! Each thing meets 
 
 In mere opptignnncy. 
 
 (Tro. Cr. I. iii. no)
 
 OPPUGNANCY. OSTENT. OSTENTATION. 383 
 
 Bacon, in his "Charge against Somerset" (a.d. i6i6), 
 says, "This marriage and purpose did Overhury mainly 
 oppugn." ("Life" V. 313). Merc oppugnancy and mainly 
 oppugn are evidently the coinage of one mint. Mere 
 oppugnancy means entire and uncompromising opposition. 
 Mainly oppugn means the same thing ; it imphes strong, 
 entire, or even violent resistance (by main force). In Lear 
 we find — 
 
 I am mainly {i.e. entirely) ignorant what place this is. 
 
 (Lear IV. vii. 65). 
 
 Oppugn in Bacon is not unlike in form to the word repugn 
 in Shakespeare : q.v. 
 
 151. Ostent, — Ostentation; horn ostendo or ostento, show ; 
 not merely or usually a vain show, an evidence of pride or 
 self-display. The classic sense is that of open manifesta- 
 tion, public pageant. 
 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent. 
 
 {Mer. Vcn. II. ii. 205). 
 
 Sad ostent means outward show of seriousness, or sobriet}', 
 or decorum. The whole passage reflects Bacon's theory of 
 behaviour as a "garment of the mind." (See Chap. VIII.) 
 Gratiano promises to "put on a sober habit." The sad 
 ostent is another dressing of the same idea. 
 
 Courtship and such fair ostcnts of love. 
 
 {lb. II. viii. 44). 
 
 (See also Hen. V., Act V,, Chorus, 21). 
 Ostentation is more frequent. 
 
 Frighting her pale-faced villages with war 
 And ostentation of despised arms. 
 
 {Rich. II. II. iii. 94). 
 
 And publish it that she is dead indeed, 
 Maintain a mourning ostentation. 
 
 {M. Ado. IV. i. 206). 
 Some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antique, or 
 firework. 
 
 (L. L. L.\. i. 117).
 
 384 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 No noble rite, nor forni:il ostentation. 
 
 {Ham. IV. V. 215). 
 
 Keeping such vile company as thou art, hath in reason taken.from 
 
 me all ostL'iitation of sorrow. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. II. ii. 52). 
 
 The modern sense of the word does not occur in Shake- 
 speare ; his usage is exclusively classic. 
 
 T52. Paint : painted. Painted is a favourite metaphor 
 with Shakespeare, and as Mr. Tancock points out 
 (Clarendon Edition of Marlowe's Edw. II. II. ii. 62), it 
 is an adaptation of Latin phraseology — picia prata, etc. 
 
 And lady-smocks, all silver-white, 
 Do paint the meadows with delight. 
 
 (L. L. L. V. ii. 905). 
 
 From Cupid's shoulder, pluck his painted wings. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. III. ii. 14). 
 
 The epithet painted is applied in Shakespeare to butterflies, 
 clay, devil, flourish, gloss, hope, imagery, peace, pomp, 
 queen, rhetoric, tyrant, wings, word, etc. 
 
 153. Pallianient ; from the Latin pallium, a cloak. 
 
 This pallianient of white and spotless hue. 
 
 (Tit. A.l.\. 182). 
 
 (See Candidatus). 
 
 154. Pari,—partial-ly,^ariy; from the Latin pars, in 
 the sense of a side, party, faction. In the following passages 
 part is a verb, and answers to the Latin partio, share, or 
 divide. 
 
 Let's away 
 To part the glories of this happy day. 
 
 {Jut. Oes., V. V. 80). 
 
 And part in just proportion our small strength. 
 
 (Rich. III. V. iii. 26). 
 
 In the sense of party, or side, it is used as a noun. 
 
 Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. I. iii. 133).
 
 PARTIAL. PERDITION. PERDURABLE. 385 
 
 Party and partial are employed as cognate terms in — 
 
 Whereto thy tongue a parly-verdict gave . . . 
 A partial slander sought I to avoid. 
 
 {Ricli. II. I. iii. 234, 241). 
 
 The classic and the current sense are combined into one 
 expression in such passages as the following : — 
 
 Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear ; 
 Their own transgressions partially they smother. 
 
 (Lncrece 633). 
 
 If partially affined, or leagued in office, 
 Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, 
 Thou art no soldier. 
 
 (O///. II. iii. 218). 
 
 One of the Editors paraphrases this as follows : — " In- 
 fluenced by partiality on account of any tie or affinity," 
 but the radical and classic meaning is thus lost. Party 
 allegiance is the meaning. 
 
 Bacon writes, "Certain Laodiceans and lukewarm 
 persons think they may accommodate points of religion by 
 middle ways, and taking part of both, and witty reconcile- 
 ments," i.e., on equal terms with both sides. Soon after, 
 and pursuing the same subject, he adds, "If it were done 
 less partially, it would be embraced more generally." 
 Essay 3, "of Unity in Religion." 
 
 Bacon, in his letter of advice of Rutland, says, " Your 
 Lordship should affect the company whom you find to be 
 worthiest, and not partially think them worthy whom you 
 affect." 
 
 155. Perdition, from the Latin word Perdo, used with the 
 sense of loss simply, not eternal : as in The Tempest Pros- 
 pero saves the crew of the vessel which his Tempest has 
 wrecked, with not " so much perdition as a hair." {Temp. 
 I. ii. 30). 
 
 156. Perdurable, — perdurahly: perdurable is not really an 
 English word at all. It represents the Latin word per- 
 durabilis. It is true that this word is not found in classic 
 
 BB
 
 386 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 literature, — but it might have been ; the word is formed m 
 strict analogy to other words, from durabilis, — lasting — the 
 prefix per having an intensive signification. Perdurable 
 therefore means very lasting — ineffaceable. The word 
 (with the cognate adverb) occurs three times in Shake- 
 speare. 
 
 Why would he, for the momentary trick 
 
 Be pcniiirablv fined ? 
 
 {Meas.M.Ul.l 11^). 
 
 O perdurable shame ! 
 
 {Hen. V. IV. v. 7). 
 
 I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable 
 toughness. {0th. I. iii. 342). 
 
 Bacon, reporting on the scarcity of silver at the Mint, 
 refers to the wasting of gold and silver coin — " Which 
 turns the nature of these metals which ought to be perdur- 
 able, and makes them perishable." (" Life " IV. 259). 
 
 157. Peregrinate : from Latin — peregrino-atus, — travel 
 about in foreign parts — outlandish — alien. It is a word 
 once used — evidently coined — by Holoferness, the type of 
 pedantic affectation. 
 
 Hoi. — He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, too 
 peregrinate, as I may call it. 
 
 Nath. — A most singular and choice epithet. 
 
 {L. L. L. V. i. 14). 
 
 158. Periapts : from the Greek TrepLaTTTou, amulet — what 
 is tied round some part of the body as a charm, — to keep 
 off disease or mischief. 
 
 Now help, ye charming spells and periapts. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. V. iii. 2). 
 
 159. Permission. Used once in the Latin sense, from 
 permitio, perinissiis, — let loose — make free use of, without 
 reserve, — give up, surrender. 
 
 lago, cynically describes love, as "Merely {i.e., entirely; 
 simply) a lust of the blood, and a permission of the will " 
 {0th. I. iii. 339). This is clearly a reflection of the Latin
 
 PERMISSIO VOLUNTATIS. 387 
 
 word peniiissus, or pcrmissio, which is very frequently used 
 by Bacon in his philosophical writings : most frequently 
 with reference to a certain sort of liberty allowed to, (or 
 taken by), the understanding, by which its action is left 
 unchecked by the restraints of logic or fact — intellectiis sibi 
 t>ermissus. This liberty is permitted at a certain stage of 
 an induction, in order to reach the required generalization 
 by a more speedy process. The permissio intellectus is then 
 equivalent to the liberty of forming hypotheses, which is 
 permitted when induction has advanced sufficiently for the 
 mind to be able to reason on the facts before it although 
 they may be incomplete. See Nov. Org. I. 21, II. 20, and 
 Professor Fowler's note on I. ig and II. 20. Mr, Ellis 
 says, "The iphvdiSe permissio intcllcchis sufficiently indicates 
 that in this process the mind is suffered to follow the 
 course most natural to it ; it is relieved from the restraints 
 hitherto imposed upon it, and reverts to its usual state." 
 This explains what lago means by a permission of the will. 
 See Ellis's General Preface, Work I. 36. Utile putamus 
 ut fiat permissio intellcctui, post tres tabulas Comparantiai 
 Primas (quales possumus) factas et pensitatas, accingendi 
 se et tentandi opus Interpretationis Naturae in affirmativa 
 {Nov. Org. II. 20). We think it desirable that the 
 unfettered action of the intellect should be used after three 
 tables of first preparation have been constructed and 
 weighed. Bacon, who looks with suspicion upon 
 hypotheses, as lawless and untrustworthy, yet permits this 
 kind of unregulated freedom to make a hypothesis after the 
 mind has been sufficiently disciplined by collecting facts. 
 It is a dangerous liberty for an undisciplined mind ; for 
 Nee manus nuda nee intellectus sibi permissus multum 
 valet : {Nov. Org. I. 2). Neither the naked hand nor the 
 intellect left to itself can effect much. See also Nov. Org. 
 I. 20, 21. He is never weary of enforcing the maxim : — 
 Intellectum humanum sibi permissum merito suspectum 
 esse debere. {^rei^ce to Nov. Org.). These passages give 
 the necessary key to the interpretation of lago's description
 
 388 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 of love. He says it is the permission of the will, voluntas 
 sibi pcnnissa (and so it is mcrito suspeda) i.e. love is not an 
 orderly freedom allowed by the will, it is the will itself, 
 given up to lawlessness and disorder, freed from the 
 restraints of law and conscience, surrendered to the control 
 of desire and passion. 
 
 i6o. Pernicious. A word used in a purely classic sense 
 by the pedantic Armado, — 
 
 The pernicious and indubitatc beggar. 
 
 (L. L. L. IV. i. 66). 
 
 This represents the word pernix, derived probably from 
 per and nitor — much struggling : hence, brisk, nimble (not 
 to be got rid of, troublesome). It is possible that the same 
 sense may be implied in other passages. Much striving is 
 the sense in Shakespeare. 
 
 This pernicious slave . . . outfacing me, 
 Cries out, I was possessed. 
 
 {Comedy of Errors V. i. 241). 
 
 Troubled with a pernicious suitor. 
 
 {Much Ado. I. i. 130). 
 
 See Horace Epod. II. 42. Pernicis uxor Apuli. 
 But probably the word is used in a sort of slangy style 
 in these passages ; like the word predestinate as the retort 
 to the same speech in the Much Ado passage : — A pre- 
 destinate scratched face." The word is often used by 
 Shakespeare in its ordinary sense, quite as it remains at 
 the present time. 
 
 161. Perpend is simply the Latin word Perpendo, — weigh 
 carefully, or exactly, ponder, consider : or as Polonius, 
 after using the word, immediately adds, — Mark: — See Ham. 
 H. ii. 104. 
 
 Also in four other passages: Ex. gr.:~ 
 
 He loves the gallimaufr}' : [a miscellaneous lot of lasses], — Ford: 
 perpend! (iVtT. IF. II. i. 119)- 
 
 Learn of tlie wise, and perpend. 
 
 {As You Like It III. ii. 69).
 
 PERSIAN. PERSON. PERVERT. 389 
 
 The word is used only by pedantical speakers or pro- 
 fessional fools: Pistol [bis], Polonius, Touchstone and Feste 
 Olivia's Clown. 
 
 162. Persian: garments, i.e., sumptuous — corresponding 
 to the Persicos apparatus of Horace, or Ornatum Persicinn 
 of Cicero. 
 
 I do not like the fashion of your garments : you will say they are 
 
 Persian attire ; but let them be changed. 
 
 {Lear III. vi. 84). 
 
 This is not unlike the Horatian exclamation : — 
 
 Persicos odi, puer, apparatus. 
 
 (Carin. 381). 
 
 which Mr. Gladstone translates. 
 
 Off witli Persian gear : — I hate it. 
 
 163. Person. Latin Persona, a mask — or one who 
 impersonates in a play — a part or character sustained. 
 
 I then did use the person of your father, 
 The image of his power la\' then iu me. 
 
 (2 Hen IV. V. ii. 73). 
 
 Supph' me with the habit and instruct me, 
 
 How I ma}^ formally, //; person, bear me 
 
 Like a true friar. {Mens, for Meas. I. iii. 46). 
 
 Bacon says of the pretender, Perkin Warbeck : "But, 
 from his first appearance on the stage, in his new person of 
 a sycophant, or juggler, instead of his iorvaQV person, of a 
 prince." (" Hen. VH."— Works \T. 124). 
 
 164. Pervert : is another instance in which the classic 
 and intensive force of the particle per is used to augment 
 the classic sense of the root. {See Permission.) Vert is io 
 turn — pervert is to turn completely or thoroughly. This, 
 and this alone, explains the use of the word in the following 
 passages : — 
 
 Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath, 
 
 He hath against himself. 
 
 {Cynib. II. iv. 151). 
 
 'j^"
 
 390 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN'bACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Trust not 1113- holy order 
 It I pervert your course. 
 
 {Mciis.foi Mcas. IV. iii. 152). 
 
 The ordinary current sense is quite lost in these classic 
 uses of the word. 
 
 165. Plague : once used in the sense of the Latin word 
 
 plaga, a snare. 
 
 Wherefore should I 
 Stand in the plague of custom ? 
 
 [Lear I. ii. 2). 
 
 Dr. Wright (Clarendon Ed.) thinks that this passage is 
 a reminiscence of the Prayer Book version of Psalm 
 xxxviii. 17. "And I, truly am set in the plague : " which 
 follows the Latin of Jerome's version, Quia ego ad plagum 
 paratus sum. It is a curious passage, and cannot well be 
 explained without going outside the vernacular sense of 
 the word. 
 
 166. Plant. Once used as equivalent to planta, the sole 
 of the foot. 
 
 Some of their plants are ill rooted already ; the least wind i' the 
 
 world will blow them down. 
 
 {Ant. CI. II. vii. i). 
 
 The reference being to a state of intoxication, the classic 
 sense and the vernacular are united in a punning use of the 
 word. 
 
 167. Plausibly : from the Latin plausus, clapping of 
 hands, the sign of approval or consent given by the 
 Romans. 
 
 The Romans plausibly did give consent 
 To Tarquin's everlasting banishment. 
 
 {Litcrecc 1H54). 
 
 Bacon uses the word plausible with the same Latin 
 reference to the approval or applause expressed by the 
 pla7isiis : he speaks of the " mild and plausible reign of 
 King Edward the Fourth." (" Hist. Hen. VH." Works 
 VL 29).
 
 PORT. PORTABLE. PREFER. 39I 
 
 168. Port : for the Latin porta, a gate. 
 
 Sextus Pompeius 
 Makes his approaches to the port of Rome. 
 
 {Ant. a. I. iii. 45). 
 
 All ports I'll bar. 
 
 {Lear II. i. 82). 
 
 Him I accuse 
 The city ports by this hath enter'd. 
 
 {Cor. V. vi. 5). 
 
 169. Port : is also used in a sense derived from the 
 Latin verb porio, to carry or bear ; and it thus comes to 
 mean the state or magnificence which is maintained by 
 anyone. 
 
 Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, 
 Keep house and port and servants, as I should. 
 
 {Tain. Sli. I. i. 207). 
 
 The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
 
 Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him. 
 
 {Mcr. Ven. III. ii. 282). 
 
 I have disabled my estate 
 By something showing a more swelling port, 
 Than my faint means would grant continuance. 
 
 {lb. I. i. 123). 
 
 170. Portable : from the same root, porto, to bear or 
 carry, hence endure. 
 
 All these (faults) are portable 
 
 With other graces wcigh'd. 
 
 {Macb. IV. iii. 89). 
 
 How light and portable my pain seems now. 
 
 {Lear III. vi. 115). 
 
 171. Prefer : is often used in a somewhat classical sense, 
 answering to the various senses of prce-fero — ^(i.) hurry 
 along or away ; (ii.) bring forward or produce. The sense 
 is very fluctuating, but all the different senses may be 
 easily referred to the classic derivation.
 
 392 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Our haste from hence is of so quick condition 
 Tliat it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd 
 Matters of needful value. 
 
 {Mcas. for Meas. I. i. 54). 
 
 If you know any sucli 
 Prefer them hither. 
 
 {Tarn. Sli. I. i. 96). 
 
 Or who should study to prefer a peace, 
 If holy cluirchmen take delight in brawls. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. III. i. no). 
 
 My book preferTd me to the King. 
 
 (2 Heii. VI. IV. vii. 77). 
 
 172. Premised : Latin, pvcvniitto, prccviisi, send forward, 
 in advance. 
 
 Let the premised flames of the last day 
 Knit earth and heaven together. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. V. ii. 41). 
 
 This is the only instance of the word being used. 
 
 173. Preposterous. Latin, prcepono : prceposterus, having 
 the last first, — distorted, perverted, &c. In Shakespeare 
 the radical sense is always intended — an inverted order, a 
 misplacement by reversal. Staunton says, " Shakespeare 
 uses preposterous closer to its primitive and literal sense of 
 inverted order — va-repov wporepov — than is customary now." 
 Abbott notes that "Preposterous ass!" is applied {Tarn. 
 Sh. in. i. g) to a man who puts music before philosophy. 
 Puck says, — 
 
 And those things do best please me 
 That befall preposterously. 
 
 {M. N. Z). III. ii. 120). 
 
 lago, who is a most philosophical thinker, says : — 
 
 If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise 
 another of sensualit}', the blood and baseness of our natures would 
 conduct us to most preposterous conclusions. 
 
 {Otli. I. iii. 330). 
 
 Bacon uses the word similarly in his prose : — "As there
 
 PREPOSTEROUS. PREVENT. 393 
 
 is order and priority in nature, so there is in time, the 
 preposterous placing whereof is one of the commonest 
 errors; while men fly to their ends, where they should 
 intend their beginnings, and so do not take things in the 
 order of time as they come on, but marshall them accord- 
 ing to greatness, and not according to instance, not observ- 
 ing the good precept. Quod nunc instat agamus." (" Adv." 
 Op. III. 469. See Instance). The same exact use of the 
 word is seen in, — " Statutes, which have a manifest rela- 
 tion to the time when they were made, and spring out of a 
 temporary emergency of state, when the state of the times 
 is altered, should have all their due, if they retain their 
 authority in the cases proper to them; for it would be 
 preposterous to wrest them to omitted cases." (No. 159 
 Aphorisms of Law — Works V. 91). 
 
 174. Prevent : Latin, prcsvenio : go before, anticipate : 
 as in the Collect, " Prevent us, O Lord, by Thy good- 
 
 ness." 
 
 I do find it cowardly and vile 
 For fear of what might fall, so to prevent 
 The time of life. 
 
 {'Jill. Cess. V. i. 104). 
 
 — i.e., to anticipate the end of life. The reading of the 
 last line, "term" is an emendation of modern editors: the 
 Folio has time, and, as Bacon says, '* Man is not to prevent 
 his time" ("Adv." Works IIL 485); so time may be, 
 and probably is, the true reading in both passages. Hamlet 
 says : — 
 
 So shall my anticipation prevent 3-our discovery. 
 
 (Ham. II. ii. 304). 
 
 Give my love fame, faster than time wastes life, 
 So thou prcvenfst his scythe and crooked knife. 
 
 (Sonnet 100). 
 
 Bacon says, of deceits and evil arts, that if they be " first 
 espied, they lease their life; but if they prevent they en- 
 danger " (" Adv." Works in. 430), the allusion being to the
 
 394 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 fabled basilisk — " If he see you first, you die for it; but if 
 you see him first, he dieth," — a fable which is often used, 
 in analogy, by Shakespeare and Bacon. 
 
 175. Prevention: same root, is several times used in 
 Shakespeare, ex. gr. : — 
 
 Not Erebus itself, were dim enough 
 To hide thee from prevention. 
 
 IJiit. Cces. II. i. 84). 
 
 The words prevent and prevention are almost invariably 
 used with a strict reference to their original classical 
 meaning. 
 
 176. Probation: Mr. Vining (Bankside Sh.) refers to this 
 word as an illustration of the fact that Shakespeare used 
 many words " with a meaning different from that which 
 they ordinarily convey, and which could not have been 
 attributed to them by anyone who was not thoroughly 
 informed as to the precise powers of their Latin originals." 
 Probation ordinarily means trial, testing. In Shakespeare 
 it sometimes means simply, to prove, like the Latin 
 probare. 
 
 A mantle . . . which for more probation 
 
 I can with ease produce. {Cymb. V. v. 362). 
 
 Of the truth herein, 
 
 This present object made probation. 
 
 {Ham. I. i. 154). 
 
 So prove it 
 
 That the probation bear no hinge nor loop 
 
 To hang a doubt on. 
 
 {Otli. III. iii. 365). 
 
 177. Proditor : Latin word used as such, meaning a 
 betrayer. 
 
 Thou most usurping Proditor, 
 And not Protector of tlie Kimj or realm. 
 
 «> 
 
 (i Hen. VI. I. iii. 31). 
 
 178. Propend : Latin propendeo, hang down, like the 
 scale of a balance (lanx propendet — Cicero); hence, to be 
 inclined to, favourable to. Only once used : —
 
 PROPENSION. PKOPUGNATION. PUDENCY. 395 
 
 My spritely brethren, I propcnd to you. 
 
 (Tr. Ci-. II. ii. 190). 
 
 —I.e., the balance of my judgment disposes me to agree 
 with you. 
 
 179. Propension : Same root. 
 
 But I attest the gods, your full consent 
 Gave wings to my propension, and cut off 
 All fears attending on so dire a project. 
 
 {lb. 132). 
 
 180. Propugnation: Latin, propugnatis, fighting in self- 
 defence : defending anything. 
 
 What propugnation is in one man's valour ? 
 
 {lb. 136). 
 
 iSi. Pudency: Latin, pndens, bashful, modest. 
 
 A pudency so ros}'. 
 
 {Cymb. II. V. 11). 
 
 Leigh Hunt quotes this line, as well as those in which 
 the words errant, incarnadine, and tortive {q.v.) occur, to 
 show that Shakespeare "could anticipate Milton's own 
 Greek and Latin." 
 
 182. Questant: From Latin qucero : I seek. It is used in 
 the sense of candidate, one who seeks or aspires after some 
 duty or honour. 
 
 When the bravest questant shrinks, lind what you seek, 
 
 That fame may cry you loud. 
 
 {All's Well II. i. 15). 
 
 183. QucBstrists: From the same root. A word coined 
 by Shakespeare, and used only once — in the sense of, 
 persons sent in quest of another. 
 
 Some five or six and thirty of his knights 
 Hot questrists after him, met him at gate. 
 
 {Lear III. vii. 16). 
 
 184. Recordation: Latin, recordatio : recalling to mind, 
 remembrance, recollection.
 
 396 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 I never shall have length of life enough 
 To rain upon remembrance with mine e^'cs, 
 That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven. 
 For recordation to my noble husband. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. II. iii. 58). 
 
 Shakespeare, hunting after a synonj-m for remembrance, 
 \vhich is not to be found in the vernacular, borrows one 
 from the Latin. 
 
 To make a recordation to my soul 
 
 Of every syllable that here was spoke. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. V. ii. 116). 
 
 185. Reduce : Latin, reduco: bring back, restore — fre- 
 quently used. 
 
 Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, 
 That would reduce these bloody days again. 
 
 {Ricli. III. V. V. 35). 
 
 Which to reduce unto our former favour [appearance : aspect] 
 
 You are assembled. 
 
 {Hen. ['. V. ii. 63). 
 
 All springs reduce their currents to mine e3^es. 
 
 (Ricli. III. II. ii. 68). 
 
 '•Some seek to reduce the ancient liberties and customs, 
 pretended to be lost and worn out." (Speech, "Life" 
 H. 225). 
 
 " Consciences are not to be forced, but to be won and 
 reduced by the force of truth, by the aid of time, and the 
 use of all good means of instruction and persuasion." 
 (Obs. on a Libel. " Life " I, 98, 178). 
 
 Bacon, at the time of his fall, writes to the Hduse of 
 Lords, and professes, first of all, gladness that the example 
 supplied by his fall "tendeth to the purging of the Courts 
 of Justice, and the reducing of them to their true honour 
 and splendour," (" Life " VIL 242). 
 
 The classic sense, which is usually implied, is almost 
 exactly the reverse of the vernacular sense. If a country 
 is reduced it is conquered by violence ; here, on the contrary,
 
 REPELLED. REPUGNANCY. REMONSTRANCE. 397 
 
 the reduction is restoration to a former good state, or 
 bringing to a better mind, by the force of truth, time, and 
 all gentle methods. 
 
 186. Refellcd: Latin rcfdlo,— show to be false, disprove, 
 rebut, confute, dispute. Once used. 
 
 How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, 
 How he rcfcU'd me, and how I repHed, — 
 
 {Meas.for Mcas.X. i. 93). 
 
 187. Religious-ly : Latin t'cligiosus, which often means 
 faithful, exact, strict, scrupulous, accurate, without refer- 
 ence to any Divine sanctions. 
 
 As thou lovest her, 
 Thy love's to me niigioiis ; else, does err. 
 
 (^//'s T-FtV/n. iii. 189). 
 
 (See Err') i.e., By loving her, you are faithful to me. 
 
 My learned lord, we pray you to proceed 
 
 And justly and religiously [with scrupulous exactness] unfold 
 
 Why the law Salique, etc. 
 
 {Hen. V. I. ii. 9). 
 
 188. Remonstrance : Occurs only once in Shakespeare, 
 and then with a meaning not in the least connected with 
 the usual sense of verbal protest. It is derived from the 
 Latin monstro, show ; the prefix re being used in other 
 cases without much modifying the sense of the simple word ; 
 ex. gr. regreet is much the same as greet, or salute ; repas- 
 ture, nearly the same as pasture, i.e. food, or fodder, — 
 re-proof sometimes means almost the same as proof, — 
 testing, trial, ordeal. The disguised Duke thus uses the 
 word, after his disguise is abandoned : — 
 
 Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart ; 
 
 And you may marvel why I obscured myself, 
 
 Labouring to save his life, and would not rather 
 
 Make rash rcmoii^lraiicc of my liidden power, 
 
 Than let him so be lost. 
 
 {Mcas. for Mais. V. i. 394}.
 
 398 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Here remonstrance means disclosure, unveiling — a meaning 
 which comes from its classic derivation, not from its current 
 usage. In its earlier usage, remonstrance signified the art 
 of showing, a manifesting, show or display, or else decla- 
 ration or statement, i.e. manifestation by speech. This 
 meaning is now obsolete and almost forgotten. It is note- 
 worthy that the old classic sense is preserved in the only 
 instance in Shakespeare in which the word is employed. 
 
 The spies who were sent by Henry VII. to counteract 
 the designs of Perkin Warbeck, endeavoured to "draw off 
 the best friends and servants of Perkin, by making remon- 
 strance to them how weakly his enterprise and hopes were 
 built." (Bacon's "Hen. VII.," Op. VI. 143). 
 
 The libels against the Queen and her Government, among 
 other varieties, were " sometimes formed into remonstrances 
 and advertisements of estate, to move regard." ("Life" 
 I. 147). 
 
 "Faithful propositions and remonstrances," on which 
 wise conclusions were founded. (lb. iSg). 
 
 189. Remotion : Latin reniotio, — removal to a distance. 
 
 This remotion of the Duke and her 
 
 Is practice only. {Lear II. iv. 115). 
 
 All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. 
 
 {Tim on IV. iii. 345). 
 
 igo. Renege : From the mediaeval Latin word renege, — 
 deny, refuse. 
 
 Such smiling rogues as these . . . 
 Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 
 With every gale and vary of tlieir masters. 
 
 {Lear II. ii. 79). 
 
 His captain's heart, 
 Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst 
 The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper. 
 
 {Ant. CI. I. i. ()). 
 
 191. Replete : Latin repleo, rcpletns, — filled up or full, 
 abundantly supplied.
 
 REPUGNANCY. REPUTE. 399 
 
 Incapable of more, replete with you. 
 
 (Son. 113). 
 
 Replete with mocks. 
 
 (L. L. L. V. ii. 853). 
 
 192. Repugn, — repugnancy, — repugnant: Latin repugno, — 
 resist, oppose, resistance. 
 
 Stubbornly he did repugn the truth, 
 About a certain question in the law. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. IV. i. 94). 
 
 Why do fond men expose themselves to battle 
 
 And not endure all threats ? Sleep upon't, 
 
 And let the foes quietly cut their throats 
 
 Without repugnancy ? 
 
 {Tiiuon III. V. 42). 
 
 His antique sword, 
 
 Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls. 
 
 Repugnant to command. 
 
 {Ham. II. ii. 491). 
 
 It is worth notice how accurately the Poet uses the three 
 correlated words — i, Oppugnancy ; 2, Propugnation ; 
 3, Repugnancy. Corresponding to — i, Active opposition, 
 offensive war ; 2, Fighting in self-defence, defensive war ; 
 3, Not fighting at all, but passive resistance, — not com- 
 plying, but not obeying. 
 
 193. Repute : Latin repiUo, — to reckon, think over, and 
 may mean, to suppose or consider. 
 
 Mv foes I do repute you everyone. 
 
 (Tit. A. I. i. 366). 
 
 I have considered with myself . . . 
 
 And in my conscience do repute his Grace, 
 
 The rightful heir to England's royal seat. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. V. i. 175)- 
 
 He reputes me a cannon ; and the bullet, that's lie. 
 
 {L. L. L. HI. {.65). 
 
 All in England did )epute liim dead. 
 
 (I Hen. IV. V. i. 54).
 
 400 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Bacon speaks of "every reputed impossibility," i.e. every- 
 thing which is desired but considered impossible of 
 attainment. (See "Adv." II. viii. 3. Op. III. 363). 
 
 194. Retentive : is used, as the Latin, retineo, as equiva- 
 lent to hold fast, or detain, in a physical, not psychologic 
 sense. 
 
 Have I been ever free, and must my house 
 Be m}' retentive enemy, my goal ? 
 
 {Tiinon III. iv. iSi). 
 
 Not stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, 
 Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron. 
 Can be retentive to the strength of spirit. 
 
 {J^iit Cn's. I. iii. 93). 
 
 195. Reverb .- once only for reverberate : the Latin word 
 verbero, and re — strike back, being understood ; re-echo. 
 
 Nor are those empty hearted, whose low sound 
 
 Reverts no hollowness. 
 
 {Lear I. i. 155). 
 
 196. Rivage : properly a French word : from the Latin 
 rivus, a small stream. The French meaning, however, is 
 retained in the one passage where it occurs, i.e., bank or 
 shore. A spectator of ships, standing on the shore, is 
 pictured : — 
 
 O do but think 
 You stand upon" the rivcii^e, and behold 
 A city on the inconstant billows dancing. 
 
 {Hen. V. III., Prol. 13). 
 
 197. Roscius : equivalent to an Actor ; from the name of 
 the celebrated Roman actor. A skilful personator or hypo- 
 crite is called a Roscius. This was a classic usage. 
 " Roscius was considered by the Romans to have reached 
 such perfection in his profession, that it became the fashion 
 to call everyone who became particularly distinguished in 
 the histrionic art by the name of Roscius." (Smith's 
 Classic Diet.). This technical use is seen in : —
 
 RUINATE. SACRED. 401 
 
 What scene of death has Roscius now to act ? 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. V. vi. 10). 
 
 Roscius is also alluded to in Hamlet : — 
 
 When Roscius was an actor in Rome. 
 
 {Ham. II. ii. 410). 
 
 ig8. Ruinate : Latin riiina, a ruin. Shakespeare often 
 turns nouns into verbs ; ex. gr., — 
 
 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen 
 
 Tongue and brain not. 
 
 {Cynib. V. iv. 146). 
 
 In this instance the noun becoming a verb is Latin : the 
 Latin word becoming an English verb. 
 
 I will not ruinate my father's house. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. V. i. 83). 
 
 That like events may ne'er it ruinate. 
 
 {Tit. And., last line). 
 
 Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate, 
 Which to repair should be thy chief desire. 
 
 (Sonnet 10). 
 
 igg. Sacred : is frequently used in its ordinary sense : 
 but twice it occurs with a meaning that is derived from 
 classic sources : 
 
 (i.) Sacred: means accursed, (exactly the reverse of the 
 vernacular, which is one of the meanings of the Latin 
 Sacer : infamous, execrable. 
 
 Our empress, with her sacred wit, 
 To villany and vengeance consecrate. 
 
 {Tit. And. II. i. 120). 
 
 In English, what is consecrated or dedicated, and in this 
 
 sense sacred, is dedicated to good : but a person or thing 
 
 dedicated to evil may in classic usage be spoken of as 
 
 sacer, — consecrated, dedicated, and thus sacred to such 
 
 base things as villany and vengeance. 
 
 cc
 
 402 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 (ii.) Sacred: also is used in the sense of sacrattis, 
 dedicated, sworn. 
 
 But if thou yield, I rest thy sacini friend. 
 
 (Liicrece 526). 
 
 200. Salve : is a Latin salutation — Hail ! In one passage 
 it is punningly connected with the English word salve, an 
 ointment. (See Love's Labour's Lost III. i. 71-83). 
 
 201. Scope : used twice in the classic sense — scopos, 
 (TKOTToe, a mark or aim at which one shoots. 
 
 'Tis conceived to scope. 
 
 {Tiiiion I. i. 72). 
 
 Theobald paraphrases this as follows : — •" Your conception 
 hits the mark it aims at." 
 
 Your scope is as mine own. 
 
 {Mccis. for Meas. I. i. 65). 
 
 In other passages the word is used in its ordinary sense. 
 
 " Other errors there are in the scope that men propound 
 to themselves." (See Bacon's " Advancem.ent of Learning " 
 II. V, g. Op. III. 293). 
 
 202. Sect: Latin s^co, secttnn : cut, — a cutting. 
 
 Our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that you call love to be a 
 sect or scion. {Otli. I. iii. 335). 
 
 This is the only instance ; in its ordinary sense, or as 
 equivalent to sex, it occurs occasionally. 
 
 203. Secure, — securely, — security: Latin Securus, i.e., sine 
 curd ; free from care, unconcerned, careless, heedless, 
 negligent, unguarded. 
 
 Page is an ass : a secure ass : he will trust his wife ; he will not be 
 jealous. {Mcr. W. II. ii. 314). 
 
 Open the door, secure, foolhardy king. 
 
 {Rich. II. V. iii. 43). 
 
 The speaker, York, thinks the king is anything but secure, 
 as we use the word — for he is closeted with a traitor, — not 
 safe, and taking no precautions for safety.
 
 SECURE. SECURITY. 403 
 
 We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, 
 And yet we strike not, but securely perish. 
 
 {Rkii. II. n. i. 265). 
 
 Security is mortals' chiefest enemy. 
 
 {Macb. III. V. 32). 
 
 In Latin, secuncs means free from care, not necessarily safe. 
 Shakespeare uses secure much oftener in this than in the 
 modern sense. Cf. Rich. II. III. ii. 34: " BoHngbroke 
 through our security grows strong ; " and Jul. Cess. II. iii. 
 8: ''Security gives way to conspiracy" [i.e., opens the 
 path, affords the opportunity]. A hna of Ben Jonson's 
 well illustrates this meaning: "Men may securely sin, but 
 safely never." And see especially Troilus II. ii. 16 :— 
 
 The wound of peace is surety. 
 Surety secure ; but modest doubt is called 
 The beacon of the wise. 
 
 The same meaning is seen in : 
 
 This happy night the Frenchmen are scenic, 
 Having all day caroused and banqueted. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. II. i. II). 
 
 And— 
 
 Upon my scenic hour thy uncle stole. 
 
 {Hani. I. V. 61). 
 
 W. Aldis Wright refers to Proverbs iii. 29, " Devise 
 not evil against thy neighbour, seeing he dwelleth securely 
 by thee." 
 
 Bacon uses the word in the same way: "Security is an 
 ill guard for a kingdom." (Letter to Villiers. "Life" 
 VI. 20). 
 
 " Neither let any prince or State be secure concerning 
 
 discontentments, because they have been often, or have 
 
 been long, and yet no peril hath ensued." (Essay of 
 ^'Seditions"). 
 
 Bacon quotes Seneca : " It is true greatness to have in 
 
 one the frailty of a man and the security of a god : Vere
 
 404 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 innpinin, habere fragilitatcm hominis, secnritatem Dei." 
 (Essay of "Adversity"). 
 
 Bacon habitually quotes from memor}^ and very fre- 
 quently with verbal inaccuracy. The passage he refers to 
 is " Ecce, res magna, habere imbecilitatem hominis, securi- 
 tateni Dei." 
 
 204. Seen : Once used in the sense of the Latin Spectatus 
 i.e., well versed, or skilled — of proved capacity or reputa- 
 tion, as in Virgil's ^Eneid VIII. 151: — 
 
 Sunt nobis forfia hello 
 Pectora, sunt aninii ct rebus spciiiiht jiivcntiis. 
 
 A schoolmaster, Weil seen in music. 
 
 (Taiii Slircic I. ii. 133). 
 
 " Well seen in minerals " is in Marlowe's Faust i. 137. 
 "Seen in nothing but epitomes" {Massacre of Paris I. viii.). 
 
 Bacon often uses the word in this way : "... Sebas- 
 tian Gabata, a man seen and expert in cosmography and 
 invention." (" Hen. VII.," Op. VI. ig5). " Many may 
 be well seen in the passages of government, which are to 
 seek in little and punctual occasions." ("Adv." I. iii. 8, 
 Op. III. 280). Punctual is here used in its classic sense, 
 derived from punctmn, a small point. " You shall have of 
 them [i.e., physicians] antiquaries, poets, humanists, states- 
 men, merchants, divines, and in every one of these better 
 seen than in their profession " ("Adv. of L." II. x. 2, Op. 
 
 HI. 372). 
 
 Bacon quotes ("Adv." I. iii. 9, Op. III. 297) the descrip- 
 tion of Moses in Acts vii. 22: " He was seen in all the 
 learning of the Egyptians." The Authorised Version has 
 learned. 
 
 205. Segregation : dispersion; from the Latin, segrego : 
 set apart, separate, keep asunder. Only once used : 
 
 A segregation of the Turkish fleet. 
 
 (0///. II. i. 10). 
 
 206. Semblable: resemblance. Either a French word or 
 from the Latin, Similis.
 
 SEMBLABLE. SENSIBLE. 405 
 
 His seuiblable is his mirror. 
 
 {Ham. V. ii. 124J. 
 
 His semblablc, yea himself, Timon disdains. 
 
 {Timon IV. iii. 22). 
 
 It is a wonderful thing to see the scmblable coherence of his men's 
 spirits and his. (2 Hen. IV. V. i. 72). 
 
 — i.e., Justice Shallow and his servants are so like one 
 another that they all seem to belong to one another, — to 
 make one set. 
 
 207. Sensible : Latin, scnsibilis : perceptible to the 
 senses. 
 
 Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
 
 To feeling as to sight ? 
 
 {Macb. II. i. 36). 
 
 Before my God, I might not this believe, 
 Without the sensible and true avouch 
 Of mine own eyes. 
 
 (Ham. I. i. 56). 
 
 The word is mostly poetically employed, being full of 
 interior and remote significance, in such a passage as the 
 following : — 
 
 And even there, his eye being big with tears. 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
 And with affection wondrous sensible 
 He wrung Bassano's hand : and so they parted. 
 
 {Mcr. Ven. II. viii. 46). 
 
 The use of the word is typically illustrated, sometimes 
 in a punning way (as in the passage from Tarn. Sh.) in the 
 following passages : — 
 
 I would your cambric were sensible as your iingcr, that you might 
 
 leave pricking it, for pity. 
 
 (Cor. I. iii. 94). 
 
 Curtis has been struck on the ear by Grumio, and says: 
 
 This is to feci a tale, not to hear a tale. 
 Grumio. — And therefore 'tis called a sensible talc. 
 
 {Tarn. Sh. IV. i. 65).
 
 406 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 
 To signify the approaching of his lord; 
 
 From whom he bringeth sensible regrects, 
 
 To wit, — besides commends and courteous breath, 
 
 Gifts of rich value. 
 
 {Mcr. Veil. II. ix. 86). 
 
 — i.e., the "commends and courteous breath" are not so 
 properly termed sensible greetings, as the gifts of rich valu^ 
 which are sensible — i.e., perceptible to the senses. 
 
 Bacon writes in his "Apology ": — " Upon which speeches 
 of mine, uttered with some passion, it is true her Majesty 
 was exceedingly moved, and accumulated a number of 
 kind and gracious words upon me, . . . and a number of 
 sensible and tender words and demonstrations." (" Life" 
 
 III. 158). 
 
 208. Septentrion. Used once for the Latin Septentrio: the 
 
 North. 
 
 Thou art as opposite to every good 
 
 As the Antipodes are unto us. 
 
 Or as the South to the Sepfeiitrion. 
 
 {3 Hen. VI. l.W. 133). 
 
 209. Sequent: Latin, scqiior, follow — successive, one 
 following another. 
 
 The galleys 
 Have sent a dozen sequent messengers, 
 This very night at one another's heels. 
 
 {Otli. I. ii. 40). 
 
 Here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's. 
 
 (I. L. L. IV. ii. 142). 
 
 210. Stuiular: Latin, siiiiulo; copy, imitate, counterfeit, 
 feign. 
 
 Thou perjured, and thou siiuular man of virtue, 
 
 Thou art incestuous. 
 
 {Lear III. ii. 54). 
 
 My practice so prc\aird, 
 That I returned witli siiuular proof enough.
 
 SOLEMN. SORT. SPECULATION. 407 
 
 To make the noble Leonatus mad. 
 
 {Cymb. V. v. 199). 
 
 This is an unsuccessful attempt to bring over a Latin word 
 into the vernacular. 
 
 211. Solemn : Latin, soleumis : stated, wonted, usual, 
 established; applied to a State or ceremonial occasion. The 
 current sense of grave or serious is not the only sense in 
 Shakespeare. In the following passages the meaning 
 reverts to its classic origin. 
 
 My lords, a solciiiii hunting is in hand. 
 
 {Tit. A. II. i. 112). 
 
 To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir, 
 And I'll request your presence. 
 
 {Macb. Ill, i. 14). 
 
 Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, 
 
 Since, seldom coming, in the long year set. 
 
 Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, 
 
 Or captain jewels in the carcanet. 
 
 (Son. 52). 
 
 212. Sort : Once used in the sense of the Latin word 
 sors, a lot. 
 
 No, make a lottery. 
 
 And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw 
 
 The sort, to fight with Hector. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. I. iii. 374). 
 
 There is evidently a double meaning, including the 
 classic one in the following : — 
 
 They have acquainted me with their determinations, which is, 
 ... to trouble you witli no more sort, unless you can be won by 
 some other sort than your father's imposition, depending on the 
 caskets. {Mer. V. I. ii. no). 
 
 The casket device made the disposal of Portia in 
 marriage a kind of lottery, and the word sort, thus used, is 
 most appropriate. Richard Grant White favoured this 
 interpretation. 
 
 2 1 J. Speculation, speculative : Speculation is always used
 
 408 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 by Shakespeare and often by Bacon in reference to the 
 sight of the eyes, not of the mind,— physical sight, not 
 intellectual vision ; though the latter may, and generally 
 is connotated, the word being used in a very metaphysical, 
 almost a scholastic way. 
 
 Thou hast no spcciilulioii \n those eyes 
 
 Which thou dost glare with. (Macb. III. iv, 95). 
 
 Speculation turns not to itseh" 
 
 Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there 
 
 Where it may see itself. 
 
 {Tw. Cr. III. iii. 109). 
 
 i.e. the eye cannot look directly at itself. 
 
 Though we upon this mountain's basis by 
 
 Took stand for idle speculation. 
 
 [Hen. V. IV. ii. 30). 
 
 i.e. although they were to look on and take no share in 
 the battle. The Latin word specula, a watch-tower, may 
 be reflected in this passage ; as also in the following, — 
 
 Servants, who seem no less, 
 
 Which arc to France the spies and speculations, 
 
 Intelligent of our state. 
 
 [Lear III. i. 23). 
 
 My speculative and officed instruments. 
 
 {0th. I. iii. 271). 
 
 Othello's speech is purely Ciceronian ; it means my 
 faculties which are devoted to observation and duty. 
 
 Bacon writes, of superstitious stories of sorceries, etc. : 
 — " From the speculation and consideration of them, light 
 may be taken." ("Adv." II. i. 4. Op. III. 331). 
 
 And he speaks of " direction of works from the speculation 
 of causes." ("Adv." II. viii. 3. Op. III. 363). Obviously, 
 in these passages, the word speculation refers to outward 
 perception, and consideration to mental operation that 
 follows. 
 
 214 {a). Stellcd : Is used in two distinct significations, 
 one from the Latin, the other from the Greek.
 
 STELLED. STUPRUM. SUBSTITUTE. SUCCESS. 4O9 
 
 The Latin, stclla, a star, or constellation, or stcllatus, 
 glittering like stars, is reflected in the following :— Of Lear 
 in the storm it is said — 
 
 The sea, — with such a storm as his bare head 
 
 In hell-black night endured, — would have buoy'd up 
 
 And quench'd the stcUcd fires. 
 
 (Atvrr III. vii. 59). 
 
 In this passage Bacon's frequently expressed belief that 
 " the stars are true fires " may be traced. 
 
 215 {b). Stelled : From aWAAa), fix, set in its place. 
 
 Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath slell'd 
 
 Thy beauty's form in table of mv heart. 
 
 (Son. 24). 
 
 To this well-painted piece is Litcrcce come, 
 
 To find a face wliere all distress is stell'd. 
 
 {Litcrcce 1443). 
 
 It is worth noting that in both these (the only) passages 
 in which this curious word is used, the painter's art is 
 referred to. 
 
 216. Stuprnm : This Latin word is used, without expla- 
 nation, in Tit. A. IV. i. 78. 
 
 217. Substitute : From the Latin sub and statuo, place 
 under. It is applied to a subordinate, not necessarily a 
 representative position ; or it is simply used for an appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 But who is subslilutcd 'gainst the French, 
 
 I have no certain notice. 
 
 (2 Hen. /!'. I.iii. 84). 
 
 You speedy helpers, that are siibsiitiitcs 
 Under the lordly monarch of the North. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. V. iii. 5). 
 
 218. Success: Often used, both by Bacon and Shake- 
 speare, to signify the issue or result of anything, whether 
 the event is good or evil, favourable or the reverse. It 
 thus follows the Latin word succcdo, follow, succeed ; or 
 successjis, that which has followed or taken the place of its 
 predecessor.
 
 410 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN I5AC0NIAN LIGHT. 
 
 And so success of miscliicf shall be born. 
 
 (2 Hen. /!'. IV. ii. 47). 
 
 i.e. one mischief after another shall arise. 
 
 Is your blood 
 So madl}- hot that no discourse of reason, 
 Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, 
 Can qualify the same ? 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. ii. 115). 
 
 The success, 
 Although particular, shall give a scantling 
 
 Of good or bad unto the general. 
 
 (lb. I. iii. 340). 
 
 Eros. — Ca2sar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey. 
 Euo. — This is old : what is the success ? 
 
 (Ant. C/. III. V. 4). 
 
 Should you do so, my lord. 
 My speech should fall into such vile success, 
 As mv thoughts aim not at. 
 
 {0th. III. iii. 221). 
 
 Bacon also follows the Latin, and uses the original word 
 in his Latin writings. Si major est successus spe, videtur 
 aliquod lucri factum. (" Medit. Sac." Op. VIL 237). 
 
 "In choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of 
 plainer sort, that are like to do that that is committed to 
 them, and to report back again faithfully the success.'' 
 (Essay 47). 
 
 " Because true history propoundeth the successes and 
 issues of actions not so agreeable to the merits of virtue 
 and vice, therefore poesy feigns them more just in retribu- 
 tion, and more according to revealed Providence." ("Adv." 
 n. iv. 2. Op. in. 343). 
 
 2ig. Siippliance : Occurs only once. It is evidently taken 
 from the Latin word supplco, fill up, make fall. 
 
 The perfume and sttppUauce of a minute. 
 
 {Ham. I. iii. 9). 
 
 The Clarendon Edition says that this "means probably, 
 as Mason says, an amusement to fill up a vacant minute."
 
 SUSPIRE. TENABLE. TERMS. 4II 
 
 Bacon has " Desire of revenge, — the supplying of a 
 wound." (Conference of Pleasure. Love). 
 
 220. Suspire : Latin stispiro, to breathe, or breathe 
 deeply. 
 
 For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, 
 To him that did but yesterday suspire. 
 
 {John III. iv. 79). 
 
 Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
 
 Perforce must move. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. IV. v. 32). 
 
 These are the only instances of this word. Sir Thomas 
 More has, " suspyring and sighing after the joys of heaven," 
 in which the word is used for aspiration or deep breathing, 
 as Shakespeare uses the next word. 
 
 221. Suspiration : same root, more accurately used in 
 the proper Latin sense of suspiro, breathe deeply, or sigh. 
 
 Windy suspiration of forced breath. 
 
 [Ham. I. ii. 79). 
 
 This word occurs only once. 
 
 222. Tenable : Latin, teiio : hold or keep. Once only. 
 
 Let it be tenable in 3'our silence still. 
 
 {Ham. I. ii. 248). 
 
 223. Terms : Latin, terminus — end, conclusion, limit. 
 
 Without all teiins of pity. 
 
 {^Alfs Well II. iii. 173). 
 
 Defended it with any terms of zeal. 
 
 {Men I'en. V. i. 205). 
 
 The current meaning of the word may be combined, by 
 a sort of double meaning, with the classic sense, as in the 
 second passage. 
 
 224. Translate: Latin, transfero — translatus — in the 
 physical sense of conveyance or removal. 
 
 I ied them on in this distracted fear,
 
 412 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN 15ACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 And left sweet P^Tamus translated there. 
 
 {M. N. D. III. ii. 31). 
 
 225. Umber'd : Latin, umbra a shadow. 
 
 Each battle sees the other's uinbci'd face. 
 
 [Hcu. V. IV. Chorus 9). 
 
 With perhaps a double or inclusive meaning, of dark, 
 brown, umber coloured. 
 
 226. Umbrage: same root. Used only once in ped- 
 antical, affected speech. 
 
 His semblable is his mirror ; and who else would trace him, his 
 umbrage, nothing more. 
 
 {Ham. V. ii. 124). 
 
 227. Uncivil : see Civil. 
 
 228. Unconfinable : see Confine. 
 
 229. Unsisting : Latin sisio, stand still ; with negative 
 prefi.x, unsisting therefore means, never at rest. 
 
 That spirit's possessed with haste 
 That wounds the iiiisisfing postern with these strokes. 
 
 {Measure for Measure IV. ii. 91). 
 
 230. Unseminared : Evidently a Latin word in an English 
 dress ; used by Cleopatra to describe Mardian, the Eunuch. 
 
 'Tis well for thee 
 That being uiiseminard, thy freer thoughts 
 May not fly forth of Egypt. 
 
 (.-!/;/. C/. I. V. 10). 
 
 It IS scarcely necessary to give articulate voice to the 
 argument arising out of this copious and refined Latinity, 
 — this large and comprehensive familiarity with classic 
 language, classic literature, classic history, classic antiquity. 
 If such accomplishments could be the product of Edu- 
 cation in a remote country grammar school ot the i6th 
 century, we have certainly suffered most lamentable 
 deterioration during the last three hundred years. 
 
 Now when we bring into a focus all these evidences of
 
 SHAKESPEARE AS A CLASSIC. 413 
 
 classic learning, the contention that the poet was not an 
 imperfectly educated rustic, but a scholar well read and 
 highly trained, endowed with such knowledge as schools 
 of the highest class and universities supply, in short a man 
 not unlike Francis Bacon, cannot be dismissed with a 
 snap-finger gesture of contempt, as a baseless crank not 
 worth discussing. Whether as a fact the poet was learned 
 or not, yet assuredly the assumption that he was is the 
 readiest and easiest explanation of these facts. And the 
 more we study Shakespeare the more is this first impression 
 confirmed. For he must be read as any other classic 
 author is read, — with elucidations derived not only from 
 early English history and language, but from the Latin 
 Dictionary, from the whole realm of Greek and Roman 
 history, literature, antiquity, and mythology. We must 
 construe and translate his words, trace his allusions to 
 their sources. He takes his place side by side with 
 Virgil, Horace, and Ovid ; with Cicero, Tacitus, and 
 Thucydides ; with Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero ; with 
 ^schylus, Sophocles, and Homer; — all require the same 
 critical apparatus and minute study. And the same 
 educational advantage which is found in the study of 
 the Ancients remains with this modern classic ; the same 
 mental stimulus, — the same analytic subtlety to bring 
 words into their proper relations, — the same drill in the 
 philosophy and logic of language, — the same antidote to 
 the insularity and narrowness of view that is apt to 
 accompany a merely utilitarian education, — the same 
 necessity of looking with understanding and sympathy 
 on all varieties of character and fortune, on all types of' 
 civilization, in ancient and modern times. This is Shake- 
 speare's great charm and inestimable value. And to 
 suppose that all this globe of knowledge, this largeness 
 and liberality of view could have come from the education 
 supplied by a sixteenth-century very insignificant grammar 
 school with its social environments, is about as extravagant 
 as any other reported case of spontaneous generation, which
 
 414 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 most scientific men would dismiss as unworthy of serious 
 discussion or investigation. The maxim omne vivum ex ovo 
 is as true in hterature as in biology, and the philosophy of 
 causation requires that there should always be adaptation 
 and proportion between antecedent and consequent. The 
 o%nim for the Shakespearean vivum is, from the accepted 
 point of view, absolutely non-existent. 
 
 So then the controversy between Baconians and Shake- 
 speareans is but another branch of the old yet ever new 
 quarrel in natural philosophy between Superstition and 
 Science, — between the advocates of miracles on the one 
 hand, and the vindicators of natural causation on the other. 
 Coleridge seems to have had a shrewd suspicion of this 
 when he put the keen qnestion, — not then capable of being 
 answered, — "What, are we to have miracles in sport ? Or, I 
 speak reverently, does God choose idiots by whom to convey 
 divine truths to men ? " Shakespearans endeavour to 
 explain Shakespeare and the genesis of his genius by the 
 guesses and legends and myths which naturally arise when 
 superstition usurps the place of science. Baconians give 
 natural and reasonable explanations in solid and well 
 established facts, and bring the teaching of that positive 
 philosophy which governs all enquiry into the order and 
 phenomena of nature, to refute the crude parthenogenesis 
 of their opponents. With Shakespeareans the poet is 
 "the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot up in 
 our latter times," and they hold up their hands with pious 
 horror, — perhaps clench their fists in unholy wrath, — when 
 they meet with those troublesome " Baconizers," who 
 " make modern and familiar things supernatural and cause- 
 less." Thus it must always be when new light is offered 
 to the obscurantists who hold possession. Baconians can 
 easily endure the taunts and anathemas so freely launched 
 against them, for they know that they bring light and order 
 to the ancient abodes of Darkness and Confusion, and thus 
 promote the Extension of that Kingdom of Man which was 
 so bright and precious a vision to Bacon's prophetic soul.
 
 415 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 ON THE AUTHORSHIP OF MARLOWE; 
 WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO EDWARD II. 
 
 My primary aim in this work is to claim for Bacon the 
 authorship of Shakespeare, and to show how much new 
 light is thus cast on the Shakesperean drama. This theory 
 is, I know, daily gaining ground : it is only a matter of 
 time for it to become generally accepted. Its progress 
 has been somewhat retarded by the imprudent and 
 extravagant writings of its advocates — by impossible cypher 
 speculations, and by absolutely untenable extensions of 
 the Bacon claim to other writings^till it seems as if the 
 whole literature of the Elizabethan time and of some 
 generations later would be swept into this enclosure. 
 
 It may seem as if I myself enter the camp of these 
 riotous literati by claiming for Bacon some, if not all, of 
 Marlowe's works. But, whether the arguments which I 
 shall produce are judged to be solid or the reverse, 
 I think any impartial critic may at once satisfy himself that 
 there is a unique and exceptional character in "Marlowe," 
 which justifies careful enquiry into its origin, and brings 
 it into closer relationship with Shakespeare than any other 
 part of Elizabethan literature. The general reasons which 
 make Shakespeare's relation to Marlowe a very open 
 question are such as these : — 
 
 I, The Shakesperean drama did not begin to appear till 
 the poet was far advanced in middle life. Bacon was 
 nearly 40 years old when the first play was published
 
 4l6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 under the name of Shakespeare. William Shakespeare 
 was about 35. Now genius of this type ripens early — it is 
 likely to manifest itself before life's second decade has 
 been completed; and if Bacon wrote under cover of a 
 name not his own, he may have used other dissembling 
 garments. 
 
 2. If such earlier works exist, they probably resemble 
 such plays as i Henry VI. or Titus Andronicus, which 
 many critics hand over to Marlowe, with some other early 
 Shakesperean plays. 
 
 3. There is a general consensus among critics that 
 Marlowe's work possesses marked Shakesperean attributes, 
 such as belong to no other poetry of the time, except 
 Shakespeare's. 
 
 4. In the poems attributed to Marlowe there are large 
 portions which Marlowe could not have written : and there 
 is an obscurity about the production of them all. 
 
 5. Many critics admit, in almost express terms, that 
 Marlowe's poetry has such a strong resemblance to Shake- 
 speare's, that it is not easy to distinguish between " master 
 and man." This is Mr. Bullen's expression. Mr. Russell 
 Lowell's is still more striking and compromising ; it will 
 be found in the following pages. So also is that of Mr. 
 H. A. Kennedy. Professor Dowden's testimony is almost 
 as strong : — " It is amongst the pre-Shakespereans that we 
 lind the man who, of all the Elizabethan dramatists, stands 
 next to Shakespeare in poetic stature ; the one man, who, 
 if he had lived longer and accomplished the work which 
 lay clear before him, might have even stood beside Shake- 
 peare as supreme in a different province of dramatic art." 
 This is true, but I see no reason for assigning to Marlowe 
 a *' different province." Marlowe occupies one of the 
 many departments of the Shakespeare realm : he might 
 have enlarged his domain, as Shakespeare did. 
 
 Mr. Charles Grant says of Faustus, that it was "the 
 first word which bore the unmistakable impress of that 
 tragic power, which was to find its highest embodiment in
 
 SHAKESPEARE AND MARLOWE ORIGINALLY UNITED. 417 
 
 Lear dind Macbeth ; in Hamlet and Othello." The signifi- 
 cance of these judgments cannot be disputed. They 
 recognize an organic relation between Shakespeare and 
 Marlowe, which requires explanation, and gives to our own 
 a right of entry, 
 
 6. Marlowe's style is very distinctive ; it constantly tends 
 to boldness, extravagance, — to what is termed the Ercles 
 Vein. It is young, crude, wanting in self-restraint and 
 proportion. Now exactly this style, with the crudity and 
 want of balance generally, but not always, left behind, 
 remained Shakespeare's style up to the last. The Marlowe 
 tones are to be heard in even the most advanced of the 
 Shakesperean plays. Some illustrations of these state- 
 ments will be found in the following pages. 
 
 There is no doubt that the two Baconian theories, — 
 Shakespeare and Marlowe, — mutually sustain one another. 
 If it can be shown that Bacon probably wrote Marlowe, 
 his claim to Shakespeare will at once be accepted as ante- 
 cedently probable. 
 
 If the author of Shakespeare — (Bacon, or any other 
 writer,) — wrote any part of Marlowe, William Shak- 
 spere's hold on the works assigned to him is loosened ; 
 the evidence that connects him with Shakespeare, 'the 
 evidence of title pages, and I know of no other, is 
 weakened and brought into suspicion ; I might almost say 
 is annihilated. 
 
 If the name of the writer and the name on the title pages 
 are not the same, it is in the highest degree improbable 
 that the real author was one who depended for success on 
 personal notoriety. Writings which are published from 
 commercial motives are not usually issued anonymously, 
 or under a noni de plume. And we are often told by 
 Shakspere biographers that William Shakspere's chief or 
 even sole motive in publishing his dramas was to fill his 
 " house " with a profitable audience. 
 
 If the poet used a cover, he may have employed more 
 than one ; he may have used one name, as long as the real 
 
 DD
 
 4l8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 owner of it lived, or was otherwise available, and sought 
 another when the necessity for a change came. 
 
 If the concealed poet found there was something com- 
 promising in the name of a man who had become 
 conspicuous, whose history and career might become 
 matter for enquir}^ or who had gained evil notoriety as a 
 blasphemer or a reprobate, and this appears to have been 
 the case with Marlowe, his next choice would probably 
 be that of a man of less positive characteristics, "slight 
 and unmeritable ; " or he might select a name bearing a 
 colourable resemblance to that of a real person, but not 
 exactly the same, and capable of being twisted into sym- 
 bolical significance, and so explained away. 
 
 At any rate, it is of some advantage to our cause if the 
 Marlowe branch of it lifts it out of the ring-fence of 
 Stratford-on- Avon, and brings it to a higher court of appeal 
 than that which concerns itself with trivial circumstances 
 and individual interests. It is no small gain that the 
 question at issue is thus connected with the largest results 
 and the noblest utterances of Elizabethan philosophy and 
 literature, with the one great man, who, more than any 
 other, gathers up into himself the intellectual, social, and 
 political life of the later sixteenth and early seventeenth 
 centuries. 
 
 The following Essay is reproduced, with some con- 
 siderable additions, from the "Journal of the Bacon 
 Society," Vol. II. p. 226. My intention in this paper is 
 not to cover the whole ground — that would require a much 
 larger discussion ; but to present a sample, by an analysis 
 of Edward II., of the kind of arguments which have con- 
 vinced many Baconians that Marlowe must be annexed. 
 At present, then, I need only claim that the Shakesperean 
 origin of this one play is proved by the facts and arguments 
 brought forward. This may be taken as a starting point 
 of a larger enquiry for those who wish to pursue the subject. 
 My thesis is, Bacon wrote Edward II : but it will be evident 
 that many of the facts used in support of this limited thesis
 
 EXTRAORDINARY AFFINITY. 419 
 
 may be applied to the whole Marlowe group of poems : 
 in some of which much stronger Baconian marks are found 
 than this play affords. 
 
 The extraordinary affinity between Marlowe and Shake- 
 speare has been repeatedly noticed by critics and historians 
 of the Elizabethan drama. Marlowe is always referred to 
 as the precursor of Shakespeare, the inaugurator or inventor 
 of the art which he perfected. So close is the relation 
 between them that the lines of continuity are unbroken, or, 
 as Mr. BuUen says, "it is hard to distinguish between 
 master and man." In fact, they are represented as over- 
 lapping and interpenetrating in a most anomalous style. In 
 the three plays of King Henry VI. we are invited to look on 
 a perplexing mosaic ; we skip backwards and forwards be- 
 tween the two writers in a very uncritical and unnatural 
 way. Such a co-partnership certainly never existed in 
 nature or art. The relationship between Shakespeare 
 and Marlowe is not likely to be such as may be symbolised 
 by a patchwork quilt or a dissected map. 
 
 In the argument immediately under consideration I do 
 not attach much importance to the very few known facts 
 of Marlowe's life. It may be allowed that so far as they 
 are accurately known, they are but faintly or dubiously 
 significant one way or another. That an educated Univer- 
 sity man should have become an actor — that is, in those 
 days, a vagabond and an outcast — gives colour to the sus- 
 picion that he had somehow lost caste, and sunk to a 
 lower social level. If, in addition to this, he was apt to be 
 rash, unguarded, or profane in speech, we can understand 
 how easily he might be accused of Atheism and blasphemy, 
 expressed in obscene and revolting terms. Such a charge 
 could not be constructed out of his poetry, even admitting 
 that the audacity of Faustus might lay him open to 
 suspicion. 
 
 Marlowe died June ist, 1593, " slaine by ffrancis 
 Archer.'' So the old register of St. Nicholas, Deptford, 
 affirms. The date is very important. Tradition states
 
 420 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 that the cause of the quarrel between Marlowe and Francis 
 Archer was a nondescript girl. The circumstances of his 
 death are not accurate!}' known; but it is difficult to be- 
 lieve that a man who was stabbed to death in a horrid 
 quarrel over a girl in a Deptford public-house could have 
 been capable of the "mighty lines," and the mightier 
 bursts of poetic eloquence, that abound in all the poems 
 attributed to him. These are facts which need not be 
 pressed very far; but they certainly lend antecedent proba- 
 bility to the supposition that he was not the true founder 
 of the Elizabethan drama, the literary progenitor of 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 What concerns us more is the unvarying mystery that 
 shrouds the origin and production of every one of the 
 Marlowe plays and poems. In no single case is there a 
 simple and straightforward history attached to them. 
 There is about them precisely the same kind of anomaly 
 as that which surrounds the Shakespeare Folio of 1623 — 
 which is really one of the greatest paradoxes of literature. 
 Marlowe's reputation is absolutely and entirely posthu- 
 mous. During his lifetime only two of the plays which 
 have been since assigned to him were published, or can be 
 proved to have existed; those two are the two parts of 
 Tambnrlainc, and they were published anonymously. 
 There is no reason for believing them to be his, which is 
 not open to dispute. Mr. Bullen's belief rests almost exclu- 
 sively on internal evidence. He says : ** From internal 
 evidence there can be no doubt that Tamburlaine was 
 written wholly by Marlowe; but on the title-pages of the 
 early editions there is no author's name, and we have no 
 decisive piece of external evidence to fix the authorship on 
 Marlowe.'" This, of course, leaves the matter absolutely 
 open, and if internal evidence is to help us to a decision, 
 then there is room for the Baconian case, which arises as 
 soon as the "previous question " is moved. By internal 
 evidence the critics appear to mean qualities of style and 
 expression and thought, positive and negative — i.e., attri-
 
 UNCLAIMED DRAMAS. 42I 
 
 butes both possessed and absent, both powers and 
 limitations — belonging to a particular mind; and it is 
 really difficult to say how internal evidence of this kind is 
 to be applied in the case of a writer whose mental 
 characteristics, except as portrayed in the writings in 
 dispute, are entirely unknown. This difficulty is quietly 
 ignored by all the critics. The petitic principu is quietly 
 ignored. 
 
 Internal evidence, says Mr. Charles Knight — and his 
 argument is copious and, I think, complete — proves that 
 the Henry VI. plays are entirely the work of the young 
 Shakespeare. Internal evidence, say other critics, proves 
 that Henry VI. was partly or entirely Marlowe's. There- 
 fore internal evidence, even under the handling of orthodox 
 Shakespeare critics, has something to say for the identity 
 of Shakespeare and Marlowe. Again, Mr. Knight speaks 
 of Tamhurlaine as " a play which Mr. Collier holds to be 
 Marlowe's work;" and again, "Mr. Collier has proved, 
 very conclusively, we think, that Marlowe was the author 
 of Taniburlaine.'" But Marlowe is not the only candidate 
 for this authorship. Malone found reason for thinking 
 that Nash was partly or entirely the author of Tainbur- 
 laine. Whether the proofs that Mr. Knight thought 
 conclusive are so or not, is evidently open to discussion — 
 and some of Mr. Collier's "proofs " seem to have been in- 
 vented for the occasion. The point that concerns us is 
 that such proof is required at all, and that Tamhurlaine 
 may be therefore regarded as a waif and stray in search 
 of an owner. 
 
 It seems then that the authorship of Tamhurlaine is still 
 an open question. Its inclusion in " Marlowe's Works " 
 goes for nothing. No collected edition of Marlowe was 
 made till Robinson's was published in 1S26, and no 
 authority can be attached to any collection made so late. 
 Mr. Robinson, in the preface to this earliest edition of 
 Marlowe, says : "It may be inferred from the prologue to 
 The Troublesome Reign of John, King of England, that
 
 422 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Tamhurlainc was written b\' the author of that play, which 
 has never been assigned to Marlowe : — 
 
 You that with friendly grace and smoothed brow, 
 Have entertained the Scythian Tamhurlainc, 
 And given applause unto an iniidel, 
 Vouchsafe to welcome with like courtes}-, 
 A warlike Christian and 3'our countryman. 
 
 Inasmuch as the Troublesome Reign is most probably 
 Bacon's early draft of King John, this conjecture is likely 
 to be not very wide of the mark, although the words 
 quoted do not necessarily bear this meaning. 
 
 With reference to Fanstus the difficulties are much 
 greater. Fanstus is not known to have existed before 1594, 
 and the only allusion known of this early date is to be 
 found in the much-tampered-with Diary of Henslowe, 
 w^hich supplied so many " new facts" to Mr. Collier. Mr. 
 Bullen says : "It was entered in the Stationers' books on 
 January 7th, 1601; but the earliest extant edition is the 
 quarto of 1604, which was reprinted with very slight 
 additions in 1609. An edition with very numerous addi- 
 tions and alterations appeared in 1616," i.e., it was 
 enlarged to half as much again, and a good many of the 
 earlier scenes were re-cast and re-written. These 1616 
 additions are a great puzzle. They are not to be distin- 
 guished in manner or value from the rest of the poem, and 
 are evidently by the same author. There is no patchwork 
 in the revised form of Faustus. No one would ever have 
 dreamed of a second author, if the original authorship had 
 not been fastened upon a man who died twenty-three years 
 before these additions were published, and they alone are 
 sufficient to justify wholesome scepticism and rigorous 
 inquiry into the whole question. Moreover, even in the 
 earliest edition, there is an allusion to Dr. Lopez, whose 
 name did not come into public notice till 1594. Another 
 passage, referring to the comparative value of French and 
 English money, it is supposed, could not have been written 
 before 1597, and by 1616 it had become antiquated and
 
 FAUSTUS IMPOSSIBLE FOR MARLOWE. 423 
 
 was omitted.* The 1616 edition introduces " Bruno, led 
 in chains." Bruno's persecutions and ultimate martyrdom 
 did not begin till many years after Marlowe's death. It 
 seems almost as if the poet, when he revised his work in 
 1616, purposely inserted allusions and anachronisms which 
 would necessarily lead the critical reader, whenever he 
 might appear, to reconsider the question of authorship. 
 And this is surely a more reasonable explanation of these 
 anomalies than to gloss them over or explain them away 
 by all sorts of adventurous and question-begging specu- 
 lations. 
 
 Of course, critics are obliged to say that the scenes in 
 which these anachronisms occur are interpolations, but the 
 only reason for so regarding them is the awkward fact that 
 the supposed author died in 1593. Mr. Collier produced 
 an entry from Henslowe's Diary, (perhaps a forgery : who 
 knows which of Mr. Collier's facts are forgeries and which 
 are not ?) referring to four pounds paid to William Bird 
 and Samuel Rowley for additions to Faiistiis. But as this 
 entry is dated 1602, the additions, if they exist at all, may 
 just as well have appeared in the 1604 edition as at any 
 other time, and certainly do not account for the large and 
 important alterations produced in 1616, which it is allowed 
 are such as neither of these hack writers could have made. 
 The entry is so vague that no valuable inference can be 
 drawn from it. If Bird and Rowley really wrote any 
 additions to Faustiis, they were probably only the same sort 
 of "fond and frivolous gestures .... of some vain- 
 conceited fondlings greatly gaped at," which had at one 
 time disfigured Tambnylaine, as we are told in the 
 "printer's" address prefixed to that play, and which were 
 judiciously omitted in publication. 
 
 The Jew of Malta is mentioned in the Stationers' books 
 in 1594 ; but the earliest known edition is that of 1633. 
 Edivard II. was entered at Stationers' Hall in July, 1593, 
 
 *See Ward's Introduction to Fcutsltis, p. cxix., Note 3.
 
 424 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 but not published, so far as is known, till 1594. Dido 
 was published in 1594. Hero and Lcander, entered at 
 Stationers' Hall in September, 1593, was published in 1598. 
 The original poem consisted of two Cantos, or, as they are 
 called, Sestiads. Four more were added the same year, 
 under the name of George Chapman. This continuation 
 is also a great puzzle to all the critics. It is obviously 
 written by the same poet who penned the first two Sestiads, 
 although there is a falling-off in poetic merit — a heaviness 
 and occasional obscurity, which we do not find in the 
 earlier portion. There is, however, much the same con- 
 trast, only more marked, between the first two acts of the 
 Jew of Malta and the rest of the play. The Poem is full 
 of Shakespearean touches, and no one who reads Chapman's 
 acknowledged plays — such as the Blind Beggar of 
 Alexandria, All Fools, &c. — will find in these plays the 
 least indication of the poet who wrote any part of Hero 
 and Lcander. A passage in the third Sestiad, in which the 
 poet makes a dark reference to " his free soul who drank 
 to me half this Musaean story," and professes to "tender 
 his late desires" {i.e., to carry out the testamentary or 
 death-bed wishes of a dissipated young man who met with 
 a sudden and violent death), is so evidently a piece of 
 masquerade that it rather confirms than confutes the 
 surmise that there is a veil over the real author's face, and 
 that this veil had to be doubled when the continuation of 
 Hero and Leander was published. It may be noted also 
 that Lieutenant Cunningham, commenting in his edition 
 of Marlowe on a passage in the last Sestiad, is daring 
 enough to lift the Chapman mask ; he remarks, " Surely 
 this was written by the author oi Dr. Faustus.'" 
 
 It is evident from all these facts that the present enquiry 
 is not a rash, self-willed heresy invented by the mischievous 
 Baconian " troublers of the poor world's peace." The 
 doubt is not of our creation. We find it ready to our 
 hand, — an unsolved problem of baffled critics. And it 
 must be observed that these puzzles are not such as might
 
 INTERNAL EVIDENCE. 425 
 
 be raised about any other Elizabethan poet, concerning 
 whom traditional details are scanty or unsatisfying. These 
 critical enigmas cluster about the Shakespearean group, to 
 which Marlowe essentially, and by universal approval, 
 belongs, and are not to be found elsewhere. Here is chaos. 
 Only the Baconian theory can restore order and establish 
 cosmos. 
 
 My purpose is to produce, in some detail, the very 
 strong internal evidence that connects Edward II. with the 
 Shakespeare poems. But let it be noted that there are 
 two kinds of internal evidence. Both have their value, 
 but both are not equally available for argument in a matter 
 that is keenly and even hotly disputed. I do not intend 
 to bring forward that kind of internal evidence which 
 arises when some impassioned critic reads out passages 
 from the disputed pieces, put into them all the fervour and 
 passion which his voice can command, and then exclaims — 
 as if no other evidence were required — "There! Is not 
 that Shakespeare ? " I have nothing at present to do 
 with the general impression of individuality which a 
 capable reader feels in perusing the poems. This, which 
 is the vaguest of all tests — not capable indeed of being 
 formulated at all — is the one which is most vehemently 
 and even defiantly produced in this discussion, and those 
 who cannot assent to conclusions so formed, are con- 
 demned as of doubtful sanity, or as "' earless and unabashed " 
 or as " characteristic-blind." 
 
 In truth, nothing can be more "uncritical" and unscien- 
 tific than the confident application of this test to a poet's 
 earliest writings. The reasons which oblige a naturalist to 
 see in an unlicked cub, or an unfledged, featureless nestling, 
 the essential structure of the full-grown animal, are not 
 on the surface, immediately perceptible to the eye or the 
 ear. There are cases in which the preconceptions of the 
 eye and ear must be put aside, and laws of evolution 
 allowed to speak. 
 
 And yet on this evidence it is affirmed that every "sane
 
 426 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 critic " admits that Marlowe was destitute of humour, and 
 incapable of writing the comic scenes in his pla3^s. For the 
 same reason we are required to believe that Marlowe could 
 not develop a plot, and that he was destitute of sympathy 
 with all the gentler phases of humanity. The " Ercles 
 vein " — grandiloquent, bombastic, fantastic, extravagant — 
 which is present in Tamburlaine (although it is almost 
 entirely absent in Edward 11. , and is very much restrained 
 in Hero and Leandcr), is supposed to be Marlowe's especial 
 note. This test is ridiculously easy of application, and on 
 that account, one would think, rather suspicious when 
 applied to the early unripe works of a great dramatic 
 genius. This little toy-test, however, is employed to select 
 those parts of Henry VI. which are to be handed over to 
 him ; and with this clue the whole of Tit. And., and a 
 good deal of the Taming of the Shrew is made over to his 
 custody. 
 
 All these judgments appear to me entirely arbitrary, and 
 somewhat trifling. If we are to determine what kind of 
 poet Marlowe was, it is safest to go to the record itself, 
 instead of consulting one's inner consciousness. So look- 
 ing, we cannot fail to recognise at least four different styles 
 in these writings; typified by i The pomposity and 
 turgescence of Ta}nburlaine, and, in less degree, of Dido; 
 2 The comic scenes in Fausius ; 3 The lyrical sweetness 
 and exuberant fancy of Hero and Leandcr, and Come live 
 with 7ne ; 4 The character-painting and dramatic-sobriety 
 of Edivard //., in which we see the germ, or rather the 
 first start, of the Shakespeare series of historic plays. All 
 these characteristics are reproduced, most exactly, in 
 Shakespeare. Not to adduce the disputed Tit. And., in 
 which the extravagance of Tamburlaine and the horrors of 
 the Jew of Malta are present in an augmented degree — nor 
 the passages in Henry VI., which are so obviously 
 Marlowesque, that their origin is brought into question- 
 let anyone read the interior play in Hamlet, where the poet 
 suddenly adopts an entirely different style, and then com-
 
 MARLOWE S SHARE IN HAMLET. 427 
 
 pare it with some parts of Dido. The resemblance is 
 strange, starthng, obvious to the most uncritical reader, 
 while, to a critical student, most urgent and clamorous 
 questions of origin instantly present themselves. Mr. 
 BuUen notes that " a few years ago a theory was gravely 
 propounded that the player's speech in Hamlet was 
 * written originally by Shakespeare to complete Marlowe's 
 play.' " Mr. Bullen's comment is almost hysteric in its 
 revulsion from this bold, bad speculation. "This Titanic 
 absurdity," he adds, " gross as a mountain, open, palpable, 
 was received with much applause in certain quarter?.'' 
 Doubtless the suggestion, in the form stated, is unreason- 
 able ; but it appears as if Mr. Bullen's fierce denunciation 
 is intended to smother his own unwilling conviction that 
 there is something in it. It is plain that when Bacon wrote 
 the player's speeches in Hamlet, he drew upon what may 
 have been his own earlier style ; perhaps he used some 
 rejected MSS. which had survived from the Marlowe 
 period of his career. At any rate the "internal evidence " 
 that Marlowe wrote this interior play in Hamlet is quite as 
 strong as that he wrote Tambiirlaine or Dido. And there 
 is nothing more characteristic of Marlowe than Hamlet's 
 ranting speech when he leaps into Ophelia's grave (Act \'., 
 scene i. 297 — 306), which many able critics, using their 
 own arguments consistantly, might hand over to Marlowe. 
 These curious survivals of the Marlowe style shew that the 
 poet had repented his youthful extravagances — for he uses 
 the style only to represent assumed madness or ranting 
 stage situations — but was quite capable of repeating it if 
 the dramatic opportunity presented itself. 
 
 The comparison between Marlowe's Dido and the 
 interior play in Hamlet is perfect. This has been shewn in 
 detail by Mr. H. Arthur Kenned}', in the Contemporary 
 Review, October i88g. Volume 56, page 583. Mr. 
 Kennedy's remarks are very striking, and present many of 
 the most forcible evidences for identity of authorship. 
 Mr. Kennedy thinks that Shakespeare reproduced Marlowe's
 
 428 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 play as well as he could from recollection, and filled up the 
 rest by perfect imitation. Indeed Mr. Kennedy's explana- 
 tions almost require the identification of Marlowe and 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The Marlowe style often reappears in Shakespeare, even 
 in the most perfect of his plays. Thus Macbeth is full of 
 it. One of the most obvious specimens is Lady Macbeth's 
 speech I. v. 39 — 55, ending in the very characteristic lines — 
 
 Come thick night, 
 And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, 
 That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, 
 Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
 To cry Hold ! Hold ! 
 
 The prevalence of the Marlowe style in Macbeth has 
 been scarcely noticed by critics. There are no less than 
 36 passages of this character, such as I. v. 39 — 55, vii. 18 — 
 28; 54—59; II- ii- I— 16; 58—63; iii. 76— 85 ; 117— 124; 
 III. ii. 13 — 26 ; 93 — 107 ; IV, iii. 2 — 8 ; and some others. 
 
 One of the most striking is worth quotation for another 
 reason : — 
 
 And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him 
 Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, 
 And tix'd his head upon the battlements. 
 
 (See Much. I. ii. 21). 
 
 This is a clear reflection of a passage in Dido, 
 
 Then from the navel to the throat at once 
 He ripp'd old Priam. 
 
 {Dido. II. ii. 255). 
 
 In Marlowe proper this " Ercles vein" is not always 
 fully justified by the interest of the situation, the grandeur 
 of the scenes, or the depth of the tragedy in which it is 
 enshrined. But in Macbeth the whole environment is so 
 colossal that the strain and vehemence of the language is 
 forgiven or forgotten. 
 
 The bloody business in Lear, when Gloster's eyes are 
 torn out, shews the same type of imagination that is
 
 SHAKESPEARE NOT COME TO MATURITY. 429 
 
 expressed in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, and in the quasi 
 Marlowe play of Titus Andronims. And the outburst : — 
 
 Blow winds, and crack your cheeks, 
 
 and the speeches associated with Lear's madness and 
 exposure to the storm, are all in the Ercles vein, brought 
 to maturity, so that it has now become sublime, and the 
 reader quite overlooks it, and does not realize how easily 
 it might become ridiculous. There is an audacity about 
 Shakespeare's diction which comes by direct descent from 
 Marlowe, if the separation is to be maintained. 
 
 It seems then that the Marlowe poems fill up the 
 vacuum left by the Shakespeare series. In them we see 
 the poet, in his early but Titanic maturity, with the faults 
 of youth allied to the exuberance of genius ; before his 
 dramatic powers had developed ; when, as Mr. Bullen very 
 truly points out, the construction of plot had not entered 
 into his ideal ; when his experience of life, and that large 
 sympathy with all phases of human existence which is so 
 wonderful in Shakespeare, has not out-grown its early 
 limitations ; when the gift of humour had not been evoked 
 by the friction of experience, or by the sorrows and struggles 
 of his own life. No considerate student can possibly affirm 
 that the genius which blossomed so magnificently and yet 
 developed so imperfectly in these few poems, had then dis- 
 played all its latent possibilities, so that we are entitled to 
 say exactly not only what powers he had, but what he had 
 not, and never could have acquired. It was mad Ophelia, 
 who, "with a happiness that often madness hits on, which 
 reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered 
 of," exclaimed "Lord ! we know what we are, but know 
 not what we may be." It seems to me that there is more 
 madness in the converse affirmation, and that for anyone 
 to say of Marlowe that he had no humour and never could 
 develop it, is the wildest possible license of self-willed 
 and arbitrary criticism. " No sane critic," to adopt Mr, 
 Bullen's rather dragooning and intolerant expression, will 
 venture upon such very disputable gustation.
 
 430 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The internal evidence which I have to produce consists 
 of such identity (not merely similarity) of expression or 
 idea as is distinctly demonstrative of identical authorship, 
 if it can be shewn to be so extended, so subtle, so 
 spontaneous, as to exclude the alternative explanation of 
 accidental coincidence, or conscious plagiarism or appro- 
 priation. That this kind of evidence can be appreciated 
 and employed by Shakespearian scholars, when it helps to 
 maintain any theory which they favour, is proved by many 
 instances. Thus Mr. Gerald Massey finds in this sort of 
 evidence proof that Shakespeare wrote one poem in 
 England's Helicon. (See comment on Edia. II. V. i. 117 
 post.) Mr. Charles Knight uses it most successfully in his 
 argument for the Shakespearian origin of the Henry VI. 
 plays. And, to come to within speaking distance of the case 
 before us, Mr. Fleay proves to his own satisfaction in this 
 vvay that Henry VI. was, to a great extent, written b}' 
 Marlowe, He adduces 12 words which he finds in Edward 
 II. and Henry VI., or Tarn. Shrew, but " in no undoubted 
 plays of Shakespeare." These words are Exequies, shipwreck 
 (as a noun), buckler (as a verb), embroider, Tully, serge, verb, 
 foreslow, magnanimity, preachment, Atlas and impale. He 
 then quotes 11 parallel passages from the plays, "a few 
 (he says) selected out of many" (but the many are not 
 published anywhere, so far as my searching extends) ; and 
 he adds, — "These similarities are sufficient, in my mind, 
 to prove identity of authorship in a large portion of these 
 plays." Now if this slenderly supported conclusion of 
 Mr. Fleay's, so far as identity of authorship is concerned, 
 is linked on to ^Ir. Knight's much more reasonable con- 
 clusion, inasmuch as it is supported by a much larger 
 induction of instances, that Henry VI. was written entirely 
 by Shakespeare, we arrive at the exact conclusion which it 
 is our object to establish — viz., that Marlowe and Shake- 
 speare are two different masks of one concealed poet ; and 
 as soon as this point is reached it will not be difficult to 
 show who this hidden writer is. Before leaving Mr.
 
 A CONNECTING LINK. 43I 
 
 Fleay's argument, it may be remarked that every play has 
 words which occur in no other play, and that these dn-a^ 
 Aeyo/xci/a are quite as likely to differentiate dates as pens.* 
 Like all negative arguments the significance of this is very 
 uncertain. Any conclusion so suggested must be cautiously 
 tested by other methods of investigation and be always 
 treated as a provisional or working hypothesis until it is 
 established by more direct and positive proofs. Such 
 proofs indeed Mr. Fleay produces, but it appears to me 
 that the foundation is rather frail and shallow for the large 
 negative conclusion that he builds upon it. 
 
 The play of Edward the Second marks the transition 
 between the early "Ercles vein" and the genuine Shake- 
 speare drama. It is exactly the required connecting link 
 that bridges over the vast chasm between these styles, and 
 warns us not to attach too much importance to similar 
 chasms existing elsewhere. Mr. Knight thinks that there 
 is no passage across this gulf, and that the bombastic 
 writer of Tamburlaine could not have written the early 
 drafts of Henry VI. His language is very instructive : — 
 
 The theory that Marlowe wrote one or both parts of the 
 Contention must begin by assuming that his mind was so thoroughly 
 disciplined at the period when he produced Tamburlaine and 
 Faiistus and the Jew of Malta, that he was able to lay aside every 
 element, whether of thought or expression, b}' which those plays are 
 characterized ; adopt essentially different principles for the dramatic 
 conduct of a story ; copy his characters from living and breathing 
 models of actual men ; come down from his pomp and extravagance 
 of language, not to reject poetry, but to ally poetry with familiar and 
 natural thoughts. 
 
 ^te' 
 
 Now this impossible evolution is exactly what we find in 
 Edward II. This strange transformation has been effected, 
 and may be described most fitly in Mr. Knight's own 
 language. To this Mr. Dyce (among many others) 
 
 '•^'On a rough computation I find that there are not less than 2,000 
 words in Shakespeare which arc used only once.
 
 432 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 testifies. He says o^ Edward II., — "Taken as a whole 
 it is the most perfect of his plays ; there is no overdoing of 
 character, no turgescence of language.''' Mr. Knight is 
 evidently conscious that Edward II. may be brought in 
 evidence against him, and he avoids this difficulty by 
 representing that "in Edward II. the author, possessing 
 the power of adaptation, to a certain extent, which always 
 belongs to genius, was still pursued by his original faults of 
 exaggeration and inflation of language." He justifies this 
 allegation by a few quotations : the passages he quotes are 
 the following : I. iv. 170-179; I. iv. 311-317 ; HI. ii. 128- 
 147; IV. vi. 86-gi ; IV. vi. 99-103. 
 
 Anyone referring to these passages will at once see that 
 they are exactly such lines as the author of Henry 17. 
 might have written, — exactly of the same type as the many 
 passages which are selected by critics to prove that 
 Marlowe wrote Henry VI. Some of these passages are 
 really quite Shakespearean. No one will contend that 
 Edward II. contains no traces of the old style ; but 
 assuredly the traces are only just sufficient to link the two 
 together, and to cancel any antecedent probability that the 
 poet of Tamhurlaine, when ripened, might develop into the 
 poet oi Henry IV. or Lear. 
 
 In this paper I have purposely limited my investigations 
 to the one play of Edward II. It would be easy to pursue 
 the same enquiry in reference to the other Marlowe plays. 
 This would be, however, a very large affair, and would 
 take more space than I can at present bestow to the 
 Marlowe branch of the Baconian theor3^ However, before 
 entering upon an examination of the parallel passages in 
 Edward II. I will content myself with one specimen of the 
 striking way in which Baconian thought is expressed in 
 another play of Marlowe. It is from the Massacre at Paris. 
 Act I. scene viii. The Guisians are on the war path, hunt- 
 ing out heretics and stabbing them, and they come upon 
 the philosopher Ramus in his study. Guise tells his 
 followers to stab him : —
 
 THE CANKER OF EPITOMES. 433 
 
 O, good my lord, 
 Ramus. — Wherein hath Ramus been so offencious ? 
 
 Guise. — Marry, sir, in having a smack in all, 
 
 And yet didst never sound anything to tlie depth. 
 
 Was it not thou that scoff'dst the Organon, 
 
 And said it was a heap of vanities ? 
 
 He that will be a flat dichomotist, 
 
 And seen in nothing but epitomes. 
 
 Is in your judgment thought a learned man. 
 
 Ramus defends himself: — 
 
 O, good my lord, let me but speak awhile ; 
 
 Not for my life do I desire this pause. 
 
 But in my latter hour to purge myself, 
 
 In that I know the things that I have wrote 
 
 Which, as I hear, one Sheckius takes it ill, 
 
 Because my places, being but three, contain all his. 
 
 I know the Organon to be confused. 
 
 And I reduced it into better form. 
 
 And this for Aristotle will I say. 
 
 That he that despiseth him can never 
 
 Be good in logic or philosophy. 
 
 Now, it is not a little remarkable^and certainly it is 
 extremely interesting to note, — that Bacon's references to 
 Ramus and Aristotle, both in commendation and in criti- 
 cism or condemnation, exactly correspond with the parti- 
 culars specified in Marlowe's play. Bacon's own logic was 
 much influenced by that of Ramus ; he praises his 
 tripartite division of Method, but condemns his Dicho- 
 tomies and Epitomes, — "The canker of Epitomes," as he 
 repeatedly calls these abridgements of learning. The most 
 striking passage in condemnation of Ramus is in the 
 Temporis Partus Maximus : — " Ne vero, fili, cum banc 
 contra Aristotelem sententiam fero, me cum rebelle ejus 
 quodam neoterico Petro Ramo conspirasse auguerere. 
 Nullum mihi commercium cum hoc ignorantise latibulo, 
 pernicio cissima literarum tinea, compendiorum patre, qui 
 cum methodi ejus et compendii vinclis, res torqueat et
 
 434 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 premat, res qiiidem, si qua fiiit, clabitur protinus et cxilit ; 
 ipse vero aridas et desertissimas nuf^as strin^it " :— i.^., 
 " But while I express this opinion against Aristotle, do not 
 infer that I am a fellow-conspirator with that modern rebel 
 against him, Peter Ramus. I have nothing in common with 
 that skulking hole of ignorance, that most destructive moth 
 of letters, that father of Epitomes who tortures and 
 presses things by the shackles of his method and of his 
 Epitomes, while the things themselves are entirely banished 
 and escape; and he himself grasps only the most dry and 
 empty trifles." 
 
 It should be noted that in the treatise from which this is 
 taken, Bacon, .by way of experiment, indulges in a licence 
 of vituperation which does not really or sufficiently express 
 his own opinion of the philosopher whom he assails. But 
 the criticism is essentially the same as that expressed in 
 his calmer moods. Bacon dislikes that species of logic 
 which " distributes everything into two members." " For 
 while these men press matters by the law of their method, 
 and when a thing does not aptly fall into those dichotomies, 
 either pass it b)% or force it out of its natural shape, the 
 effect of their proceeding is this — the kernels and grains of 
 the sciences leap out, and they are left with nothing in 
 their grasp but the dry and barren husks. And therefore 
 this kind of method produces empty abridgments, and 
 destroys the solid substance of knowledge." It is clear 
 that in this passage Bacon is referring to the dichotomies 
 of Ramus, (see De Aug., VI. ii.), as Mr. Ellis points 
 out in his note to the Latin original. (Works III. 663). 
 
 His scorn of epitomes is vigorously expressed in other 
 passages : Ex. gr. — " As for the corruptions and moths of 
 history, which are Epitomes, the use of them deservcth to 
 be banished, as all men of sound judgment have confessed ; 
 as those that have fretted and corroded the sound bodies 
 of many excellent histories, and wrought them into base 
 and unprofitable dregs." (See ** Adv." II. 4. Works III. 
 334). (See also the Essay of " Studies.")
 
 EARLY EDITIONS OF EDWARD II. 435 
 
 I do not see how Bacon's hand can be ignored in the 
 remarkable passage from the " Massacre at Paris," in which 
 these sentiments are so accurately reproduced. 
 
 Three early quarto editions of Edward II. are known : 
 1598, 1612, and 1622. One copy of an edition dated 1594 
 has been more recently discovered, so that four early 
 quartos may be assumed. There is no very essential 
 difference between them,* but anyone comparing them 
 will find a few minute changes of precisely such a character 
 as the author himself would make — and for the most part, 
 such as would have occurred to no other reviser. The 
 following specimens may suffice : — 
 
 1. And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston, 
 Have drawn thy treasure dry. 1598. 
 
 Have drawn thy treasitry dry. 1612, II. ii. 154. 
 
 2. They bark'd apace a month ago. 1598. 
 
 They bark'd apace not long ago. 1612. IV. iii. 12. 
 
 * Mr. Tancock describes the 1598 edition as "a somewhat care- 
 lessly printed quarto probably from a prompter's copy." I cannot 
 account for this estimate of the 1598 edition. From personal 
 inspection of the three early quartos, I am persuaded that it was 
 very carefully printed, and is just as authentic as the subsequent 
 editions. The fashion of gratuitously conjuring up prompters' copies, 
 acting MSS., playhouse versions, sliorthand reports, reproductions 
 from memory, &c., has muddled all modern critical accounts of these 
 early plays, and made natural causes invisible. In this case anyone 
 can ascertain liow far the 1598 edition deserves Mr. Tancock's de- 
 preciation, by consulting Mr. Flea3''s edition, wliich points out in 
 detail all the changes made in 1612 and 1622. That tlicy are very 
 insignilicaut, the few specimens given in the text will sufhcienlly 
 indicate. There are about twenty-one such alterations in the whole 
 play, and not one of them is of a nature to reflect injuriously on the 
 hrst edition. In fact, it was with some hesitation that I produced 
 these at all (before observing Mr. Tancock's note), fearing k^t I 
 miglit incur censure for using sliglit or strained arguments. 
 
 I am glad to find that this judgment is withdrawn in Mr. Tancock's 
 second edition. I need not, however, cancel this criticism ; for ]\Ir. 
 Tancock's case is typical.
 
 436 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT, 
 
 3. Cojiie, Leister, then, in Isabella's name ! 1598. 
 Com^s Leister ? &c. 1612. IV. vi. 64. 
 
 4. In which extreme my mind here murthered is. 1598. 
 In which extremes, &c. 161-'. Y. i. 55. 
 
 5. To strangle with a lawn thrust ihruu^h the throat. 1598. 
 Thrust down the throat. 1612. IV. iv. 32. 
 
 6. Let me not die ; yet stay, oh, stay awhile. 1598. 1612. 
 Let me not die yet; stay, &c. 1622. V. v. 98. 
 
 By these simple changes, even in punctuation, the whole 
 colour of a passage is often altered, and almost always 
 these small corrections tend to clear and modernize the 
 construction. 
 
 I will now refer to some of the resemblances between 
 Edward U. and passages in Shakespeare and Bacon. The 
 references to acts, scenes, and lines are made to the very 
 excellent Clarendon edition, edited by Mr. Tancock. The 
 numbers in Mr. Fleay's and Mr. Bullen's editions are in 
 most cases the same. Certainly the variation of a few 
 lines need not create any difficulty in verifying the quota- 
 tions. 
 
 [Note. — Some of these resemblances have been more or less com- 
 pletely pointed out, by Dyce, Fleay, Tancock, Verity, and others. 
 The passages are indicated by the initials (D. F. T. V.) of these four. 
 Mrs. Pott has supplied me with some which I had not observed, and 
 with a good many that I had. It will be seen that 33 out 
 of the 103 have been anticipated ; but in many of these cases the 
 comparison stops short at the Henry VI. plays : the very important 
 comparisons that run througli all the Shakespearean plays have been 
 scarcely touched upon. Mr. Tancock has pointed out more of tliese 
 than any previous writer, but even he has given only a few out of 
 the large store that are to be found.] 
 
 1. Ah ! words that make me surfeit with delight. 
 
 (I-i-3). 
 Henry . . . smfciiing in joys of love. 
 
 (2 Hen. 17. I. i. 251). 
 
 Sweets, delights, and surfeits seem much associated in the 
 Poet's mind : thus —
 
 PARALLELS. 437 
 
 Sweets grown common use their dear delights. 
 
 (Son. 102). 
 
 You speak like one besotted on your sweet deliglits. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. II. ii. 142). 
 
 A surfeit of the sweetest things, 
 
 The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. 
 
 {M. N. D. II. ii. 137). 
 
 For special significance of the epithet sweet, and its 
 equivalents and its reflections in Bacon — see Chap. XII., 
 Section 15, p. 243. 
 
 2. {Enter tliree poor men). 
 
 Gaveston.— But how now ! What are these ? 
 Poor Men.— Such as desire your worship's service. 
 
 Gat'.— What can'st thou do ? 
 First P. M.—l can ride. 
 
 Gar.— But I have no horse. What art thou ? 
 Second P. M.—A traveller. 
 
 Gar.— Let me see : thou would'st do well 
 
 To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at 
 
 dinner-time. 
 And, as I like your discoursing', I'll have you. 
 
 (I. i. 24). 
 
 Mr. Tancock notes, "Compare Lear I. iv. ic-47," where 
 it is curiously expanded ; the identity is very striking, (T. ) 
 The Lear passage is clearly borrowed — but the original is 
 improved. Cf. also,— 
 
 A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner. 
 
 {Airs W. II. V. :,o). 
 
 Now your traveller, 
 
 He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess. 
 
 And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, 
 
 Why then I suck my teeth and catechize 
 
 My picked man of countries. 
 
 {folni I. i. 189). 
 
 3. I'll flatter these, and make them live in hope. 
 
 (I. i. 43).
 
 438 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Cozening hope ! He is a flatterer. 
 
 {Ricli. II. II. ii. 69). 
 
 (See also 2 He7t. IV. I. iii. 27-62). Evidently there is a 
 cozening quality in Gaveston's flattery. The flattery of 
 hope is a frequent theme in Bacon's prose. (See " Medit. 
 Sac." Op. VII. 247; "Apophthegms," No. 36; "Hist. 
 Life and D." V. 279, 2S0; "Hist. Symp. and Antip." V. 
 203; Essay of "Truth; "of" Seditions," &c. Cf. Chap. VII. 
 
 4. I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, 
 Musicians, that with touching of a string, 
 May draw the pliant king which way I please ; 
 . . . I'll have Italian mosques hy night, &c. 
 
 (I- i- 52-73)- 
 
 His ear ... is stopped with other flattering sounds : 
 . . . Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound, 
 The open ear of 3'Outh doth always listen. 
 Report of fashions in proud Italy. 
 
 (Ricii. II. II. i. 17-23. T.) 
 
 Mr. Tancock calls attention to the fact that the charac- 
 terization and dramatic situation are precisely the same in 
 these two passages. Another case of borrowing. 
 
 5. Dance the antic hay. 
 
 (I. i.6i). 
 
 Let them dance the hay. 
 
 (L. /,. /.. V. i. 161. T.) 
 
 6. With hair that gilds the water as it glides, 
 
 (1. 1. 63). 
 
 Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hair. 
 
 {Com. Err. III. ii. 48). 
 
 Golden also is a very Shakespearean epithet. (See 
 No. 29). 
 
 7. This sword of mine that should offend your foes, 
 Shall sleep within the scahbard at thy need ; 
 And underneath thy hanner march who will, 
 For Mortimer will hang his armour up. 
 
 Gaveston — Morte dieu. (I. i. 86).
 
 PARALLELS. 439 
 
 Steel ! it thou tuni the edge . . . 'ere thou sleep in thy sheath, &c. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV. x 6i). 
 
 Bacon often speaks of obsolete laws as sleeping (" Aphor- 
 isms of the Law," 58) ; so does Shakespeare. (See M. M. 
 II. ii. go ; Hen. V. III. vi. 127). In the following passage 
 a sleeping function and armour hanging by the wall are 
 connected, as in Edw. II., while the phraseology is 
 varied : — 
 
 This new Governor 
 
 Awakes me all the enrolled penalties, 
 
 Whieli have, like unscoured armour, hung by tiie wall . . . 
 
 Now puts the drowsy and neglected act 
 
 Freshly on me. 
 
 {Mcas. Mcas. I. ii. 169). 
 
 Our bruised arms hung up for monuments. 
 
 {Riiii. III. I. i. 6). 
 
 To have done is to hang 
 
 Ouite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 
 
 In monumental mockery. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. III. iii. 151). 
 
 The phrase Morte dieu occurs in 2 Hen. VI. I. i. 123. 
 
 8. This sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows. 
 
 (I. i. 94). 
 
 Smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. 
 
 {2 Hen. 17. II. vi. 32). 
 
 Grim-visagcd war hath sniooth'd Iiis wrinkled front. 
 
 [Ricli. III. I. i. 9). 
 
 9. And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff. 
 
 (I. i. 95). 
 
 Stiff, unbowed knees . . . disdaining duty. 
 
 (2 Hen. 17. III. i. 16. 
 
 10. Let these their heads 
 
 Preach upon poles, for trespass of their tongues. 
 
 ^I. i. 117). 
 
 Tlien yield thee, coward, 
 And live to be the show and gaze o' the time. 
 We'll have thee as our rarer monsters are,
 
 440 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Painted upon a pole, and under writ 
 " Here may you see the tyrant." 
 
 (Macb. V. viii. 23). 
 
 11. Not Hylas was more mourned of Hercules. 
 
 (I. i. 144). 
 
 (See Promus, 785 ; Hylam inclamas. Cf. No. 33. For 
 the Hylas legend, see Bacon's Syl. Syl., 155). 
 
 12. King E(fw.— Who's there? Convey this priest to the 
 
 Tower. 
 
 Bishop.— Tme, true. (1. i. 200). 
 
 Baling. — Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. 
 King Rich. — O, good ! — Convey ? Conveyors are you all. 
 
 {Rich. II. IV. i. 316). 
 
 Mr. Tancock uses this passage to explain the "True! 
 true ! " in Edw. II. Surely enigma and solution have the 
 same origin. 
 
 13. How now ! "Why droops the Earl ? 
 
 (I. ii. 9 ; also IV. vi. 60). 
 
 Why droops my Lord like over ripcn'd corn ? 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. I. ii. i). 
 
 14. (a) Swollen with {h) venom of (0 ambitious (</) pride. 
 
 (I.ii. 3.). 
 
 a.d. My high-blown pride, at length broke under me. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. III. ii. 361). 
 
 a.d. Swell in their pride. 
 
 {Liicrece 432). 
 
 {a, c) Cesar's ambition wliicii swelled so much. 
 
 {Cynib. III. i. 49). 
 
 (a, c) Blown ambition. 
 
 {Lear IV. iv. 27). 
 
 {a, c) I have seen th' ambitious ocean swell. 
 
 {Jul. Cfs. I. iii. 6). 
 
 (a, b) By the gods — 
 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 
 Though it do split you. 
 
 (Jul. Cd's. IV. iii. 46).
 
 PARALLELS. 44I 
 
 Here we see that swelling, to bursting, is supposed to 
 be produced by the anger of which Brutus accuses 
 Cassius. 
 
 {a, b) Swell bobom with thy fraaght, for 'tis of aspics' tongues. 
 
 (0th. III. iii. 453). 
 
 (See No. 46. See also Chap. XII. sec. 11, p. 238, for the 
 Baconian scientific ideas which are reflected in these 
 passages). 
 
 15. Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants ? 
 
 (I. iv. 15). 
 
 When the lion fawns upon the lamb. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. IV. viii. 49). 
 
 As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey. 
 
 {Ltici'ccc 421). 
 
 (See also Chap. XII., sec. 3, p. 22g). 
 
 16. IgnoMe vassal ! that like Phaethon, 
 
 Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sun. 
 
 (I. iv. 16). 
 
 Phaethon ! . . Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenl}' car ? 
 
 (T. G. V. III. i. 153). 
 
 Bacon and Shakespeare often refer to the fable of 
 Phaethon, and always in the same way. (See " Letter to 
 Essex," II. igi ; " Wisd. Anc," Chap. XXVII., &c.) 
 
 17. Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech. 
 
 (I. iv. 42). 
 Also, 
 
 Your pride hath made me mute. 
 
 (I. i. 107). 
 
 Mad ire and wratliful fury makes me weep. 
 
 (i Hai. VI. IV. iii. 28). 
 
 Speak Winchester ; for boiling clioler chokes 
 The hollow passage of my prison'd voice. 
 
 (Ih. V. iv. 120). 
 
 O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb ? 
 
 (Til. A. V iii. 184).
 
 442 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 18. Are you content to banish him the realm ? 
 
 (I. iv. 84). 
 
 Are }'oii contented to resign the crown ? 
 
 (Ridi. II. IV. i. 200 T.) 
 
 (See also T. G. V. IV. i. 61). 
 
 19. I'll enforce 
 
 The Papal towers to kiss the lowly ground. 
 
 (I. iv. loi), 
 
 Let heaven kiss earth. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. I. i. 153). 
 
 The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys. 
 
 [Cymb. V. 1. 206). 
 (See No. 24). 
 
 20. Is all my hope turned to this hell of grief? 
 
 (I. iv. 116). 
 
 O, at that name, 
 
 I feel a hell of grief. 
 
 (V. v. 87). 
 
 With sucli a hell of pain and world of charge. 
 
 (7>.Cy. IV. i.57). 
 
 You've passed a hell of time. 
 
 (Son. 120). 
 
 And that deep torture may he call'd a hell, 
 Where more is felt than one hath power to tell. 
 
 (Liicrac 1287). 
 
 21. Thou from this land, I from myself am banished. 
 
 (I. iv. 118). 
 
 To die is to be banish'd from mvself, 
 And Sylvia is myself. 
 
 [T. G. V. III. i. 170). 
 
 Banished am I, if but from thee. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. ii. 351). 
 
 22. That charming Circe, walking on the waves, 
 
 Had changed my shape. 
 
 (I. iv. 172). 
 
 I tiiink you all liave drunk of Circe's cup. 
 
 [Com. Err. V. i. 270).
 
 PARALLELS. 443 
 
 As if with Circe she woukl cliangc my shape. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. V. iii. 35). 
 
 23. Ungentle Queen ! I say no more. 
 
 (I. iv. 147). 
 
 Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk ! 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. ii. 290). 
 
 24. 'Twill make him vail the top-flag of his pride. 
 
 (I. iv. 276). 
 
 Vail'd is your pride. 
 
 (III. iii. 38). 
 
 France must vail her lofty plumed crest. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. V. iii. 25). 
 
 Vailing her high top lower than her ribs, 
 To kiss her burial. 
 
 {Mer. Ven. I. i. 28). 
 
 Thus vail your stomachs [i.e. pride). 
 
 [Tam.SJi. V. ii. 176 ; 2 Hen. IV. I. i. 129). 
 
 25. The people . . . lean to the king. 
 
 (I. iv. 283). 
 
 Northumberland did lean to him. 
 
 (i Hen. IV. IV. iii. 67). 
 
 Afterwards, instead of lean to, we have incline to. (See, 
 for instance, Cor. II. iii. 42 ; Leaf III. iii. 14 ; Bacon's 
 Adv. L. II. X. 8). 
 
 26. Having brought the Earl of Cornwall on his way. 
 
 (I. iv. 299). 
 Bear thee on thy way. 
 
 (I. iv. 140; V. ii. 155). 
 
 How far brought you high Hereford on his way ? 
 
 {Ricli. II. I. iv. 2 ; I. iii. 304). 
 
 (See Mens. M. I. i. 62 ; L. L. L. V. ii. 883 ; M. Ado III. 
 ii. 3)- 
 
 He would not suffer me to bring him to the haven. 
 
 {Cynih. I. i. 170). 
 
 Mr. Tancock refers to RicJi. II. I. iv. 2, ;uul Acts XXI. 5.
 
 444 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The phrase seems to have been in very current use, in 
 the sense of accompany, conduct. Other passages might 
 be quoted. 
 
 27. Hark ! how he harps upon his minion. 
 
 (I. iv. 310). 
 
 Harp not 011 tluit string. 
 
 {Rich. III. IV. iv. 364). 
 
 (See also Meas. M., Cor., Macb., Ant. CI., Ham.) 
 
 This string you cannot . . . harp upon too much. 
 
 (Bacon's "Life" II. 42). 
 
 28. My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow, 
 
 Which heats upon it like the Cyclops' hammer. 
 
 (I. iv. 311). 
 
 And never did the Cyclops' hammer fall, &c. 
 
 {Ham. II. ii. 511). 
 
 Between the hammer and the anvil. 
 
 {Proiiiiis 741). 
 
 Though it be my fortune to be the anvil whereupon those 
 good effects are beaten and wrought, I take no small com- 
 fort. Letter, Ap. 22, 1621 ; '-Life" VII. 242. 
 
 29. I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck. 
 
 (I. iv. 327). 
 
 Helen's golden tongue. 
 
 {'Jr. Cr. I. ii. 1 14). 
 
 Golden is a favourite epithet with Shakespeare. He has 
 golden opinions ; golden time ; golden prime ; golden 
 sleep (frequently) ; golden service ; golden lads and girls ; 
 a golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; golden words. 
 See Promus 1207. 
 
 30. And as gross vapours perish by the sun 
 Even so let hatred with thy Sovereign's smile. 
 
 (I. iv. 340). 
 
 The very beanie will drv those vapours up. 
 
 (3 Hen. 17. V. iii. 12).
 
 PARALLELS. 445 
 
 See also i Hen. IV., I. ii. 221—227. L. L. L. IV. iii. 
 68—70. 
 
 31. These silver hairs will more adorn my court 
 Than gaudy silks or rich embroideries. 
 
 (I- iv. 345). 
 His silver hairs 
 Will purchase us a good opinion. 
 
 {^iil. Civs. II. i. 144). 
 
 Silver hair also in 2 Hen. VI. and T. A. (T. ) 
 
 32. Fly ! as fast as (a) Iris or (b) Jove's Mercury. 
 
 (I. iv. 369). 
 
 a. Wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, 
 I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out. 
 
 (2 Hoi. VI. III. iii. 406). 
 
 /). Be Mercury ; set feathers to thy heels, 
 
 And fly like thought from them to me again. 
 
 {John IV. ii. 174). 
 
 Fleet-winged duty with thought's feathers flies. 
 
 (Liicrcce 12 16). 
 
 True hope is swift and flies with swallow's wings. 
 
 {Rnli. III. V. ii. 23). 
 
 Bacon writes to Mr. T. Phillips, September 15, 1592, — 
 "Your Mercury is returned." (" Life" I. 118). 
 
 Mr. Fleay, wishing to show that this passage in Edw. II. 
 is only paralleled in what he considers doubtful plays, 
 says, in his glossary : "Iris, messenger of the gods: so in 
 2 Hen. VI. III. iii. 407, Iris is used for a messenger. In 
 Shakespeare's undoubted plays. Iris always means the 
 rainbow. See Temp. IV. i. 160; All's W. I. iii. 158; 
 Troilus I. iii. 380." 
 
 This is strangely inaccurate. In the Tempest, Ceres 
 addresses Iris thus, — 
 
 Hail ! many coloured messenger that ne'er 
 Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter. 
 
 and Iris speaks in the same terms of herself, —
 
 446 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN RACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 The Queen of the sky, 
 Whose watery aich and incssciiilcr am I. 
 
 The passac^e in Tr. Cr. referred to by Mr. Fleay is, — 
 
 That will . . . make him fall 
 
 His crest that proiuk-r than blue Iris bends. 
 
 (I. iii. 380). 
 
 and here Iris does not mean either a messenger or the 
 rainbow, but the purple flower. 
 
 In the Te}iipest the name Iris only occurs in the stage 
 directions, not in the text. But it occurs thus: "Juno 
 and Ceres whisper and send Iris on employment." And in 
 the AlTs ]V. passage, Iris is called, "This distempered 
 messenger of wet," showing that the poet, in his wonted 
 way, saw double when looking at Iris — saw her as both 
 rainbow and messenger. The Marlowe allusion is certainly 
 reproduced in these passages, as Mr. Fleay, if he had been 
 free from bias, would surely have observed and acknow- 
 ledged, and not ambiguously denied. 
 
 33. The mightiest kings have had their minions. 
 
 Great Alexander lov'd Hephaestion. 
 
 The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept, 
 
 And for Patroclus stern Achilles droop'd. 
 
 And not kings only, but the wisest men. 
 
 The Roman Tully loved Octavius, 
 
 Grave Socrates, wild Alcihiades, 
 
 (I. iv. 390). 
 
 This remarkably Baconian and Shakespearean passage 
 invites much comment, for which I must refer to 
 Chapter V. on "Companionship in Calamity." 
 
 The passage in Marlowe is accurately reflected in Bacon's 
 Essay of " Friendship." He speaks of the habit of princes 
 to " raise some persons to be as it were companions and 
 almost equals of themselves. . . , And we see plainly 
 that this hath been done not by weak and passionate 
 princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever 
 reigned." Bacon does not give instances ; he knew that 
 he had already given them in Marlowe's Edw. II.
 
 PARALLELS. 447 
 
 34. He wears a lord's revenue on his Iback. 
 
 (I. iv. 406). 
 
 She bears a duke's revenues on her back 
 
 (2 Hilt. VI. I.iii. 8:;. D. F. V.) 
 
 Bearing their birth rights proudly on their backs. 
 
 {John II. i. 70). 
 
 As a later development of the same, we have, — 
 
 The city woman bears 
 The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders. 
 
 {As You Like It II. vii. 75). 
 
 O, many 
 Have broke their backs with laying manors on "cm 
 For this great journey. 
 
 {Hcii. VIII. I. i. 63). 
 
 There is a curious parallel to this in Burton's "Anatomy 
 of Melancholy," III. ii. 2, 3. '"Tis an ordinary thin^^ to 
 put a thousand oaks and a hundred oxen into a suit of 
 apparel ; to wear a whole manor on his back." 
 
 35. Midas-like, he jets it in the Court. 
 
 (I. iv. 407). 
 
 Thou gaudy gold, 
 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee. 
 
 {Mcr. IV//. III. ii. roi). 
 
 How he jets it under his advanced plumes. 
 
 ('Ac. iV. II. V. 38. T.). 
 
 36. As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appeared. 
 
 [L iv. 410). 
 
 I can . . . change shapes with Proteus. 
 
 (3 Hen. IV. III. ii. 192). 
 
 37. And would have once preferr'd me to the King'. 
 
 (ll.i. 14). 
 
 Because my book preferred me to the King. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV. vii. 77). 
 
 38. Cast the scholar off. 
 
 {ILL 31).
 
 448 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Cast thy humble slough. 
 
 (r«'. iV. II. V. 181). 
 
 Her vestal livery is but sick and green, 
 And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off. 
 
 {Rom. -Jul. II. ii. 9). 
 
 All these passages reflect Bacon's Philosophy of 
 Behaviour as a garment. (See Chap. VIII.) 
 
 39. Making low legs to a nobleman. 
 
 (Il.i. 38). 
 
 You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says, Ay. 
 
 (i?/W/. //. III. iii. 175. T.) 
 
 He that cannot make a leg . . were not for the Court. 
 
 ( AJrs IV. II. ii. 10). 
 
 Let them court'sy with their left legs. 
 
 {Taiii. Sli. IV. i. 95). 
 
 Well, here is mv leg. 
 
 (i Hill. IV. U. iv. 427). 
 
 I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums that are given for 
 them {i.e. their obeisance). {Timoii I. ii. 238). 
 
 40. A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing, 
 
 On whose top "branches kingly eagles perch. 
 
 (II. ii. 16). 
 
 Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge. 
 Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. V. ii. 11. D. F'. T.) 
 
 I was horn so higli 
 Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top. 
 
 {Ricli. III. I. iii. 263). 
 
 Our princely eagle. {Cymb. V. v. 473). ■ 
 
 (See 3 Hen. VI. II. i. 91). 
 
 Kingly and princely are evidently variations of the same 
 epithet : both are frequent in the early Histories. (See 
 also I Tamhurlaine I. ii. 52). 
 
 41. The shepherd, nipt with biting winter's rage, 
 Frolics not more to see the painted spring 
 Than I do to behold your Majesty. (II. ii. 61).
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 449 
 
 Winter's rage is implied in, — 
 
 A.painst the stormy gusts of winter's day, 
 And l:)arren rage of death's eternal cold. 
 
 (Sonnet 13). 
 
 Welcome hither as is the spring to the earth. 
 
 {W. TaleV.i. 151). 
 
 And Lady-smocks, all silver white, 
 Do paint the meadows with delight. 
 
 (L. L. L. V. ii. 905). 
 
 Painted is a favourite epithet in Shakespeare. It is, as 
 Mr. Tancock points out, an adaptation of Latin 
 phraseology,^/'/ci'(i; prata, &c., and is one of the many 
 indications that "Shakespeare" had been accustomed to 
 write and think in Latin. We find the epithet painted 
 appHed to flourish, rhetoric, pomp, devil, clay, queen, 
 peace, imagery, gloss, hope, word, butterflies, &c. 
 
 42. Dear shall you hoth ahide this riotous deed. 
 
 (II. ii. 88). 
 
 Traitorous Montague, thou and thy brother 
 Shall derelie abie this rebellious act. 
 
 {True Tragedy. T.) 
 
 Lest to thy peril thou aby it dear. 
 
 (.1/. .V. D. III. ii. 175). 
 
 43. If he ■will not ransom him, 
 I'll thunder such a peal into his ears, 
 As never subject did unto his king. 
 
 (II. ii. 125). 
 
 He said he would not ransom Mortimer — 
 Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer. 
 But I will find him when he lies asleep, 
 And in his ears I'll holloa, "Mortimer." 
 
 (i Hen. IV. I. iii. 219). 
 
 And spur thee on with full as many lies 
 
 As may be holloa'd in thy treacherous ear, 
 
 From sun to sun. 
 
 {Rich. II. IV. i. 53). 
 
 Comparison between the voice and thunder is frequent. 
 
 FF
 
 450 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 (See John III iv. 38 ; Rich. HI. I. iv. 173 ; L. L. L. IV. 
 ii. 119; Bacon's "Hen. VII.," &c.) 
 
 44. The wild O'Neil, with swarms of Irish kernes, 
 Lives imcontroll'd within the English pale. 
 
 fll. ii. 160). 
 
 The wild O'Neil, mv lords, is up in arms, 
 With troops of Irish kernes, that uncontrolled 
 Doth plant themselves within the English pale. 
 
 [Contention III. i. 282). 
 
 (Altered in 2 Hen. VI. III. i. 282. D. F. T. V.) 
 
 45. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas. 
 
 (II. ii. 164). 
 
 Stern Falconbridge commands tlie narrow seas. 
 
 (3 Hen. 17. I. i. 239. D. F. T. V.) 
 
 A ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas. 
 
 (Mcr. Ven. III. i. 3). 
 
 46. My swelling heart for very anger iDreaks. 
 
 (II. ii. 196). 
 
 My heart for anger breaks ; I cannot speak. 
 
 (True Trail. I- i- 55)- 
 
 (Slightly altered in 3 Hen. VI. I. i. 60. T.) 
 
 He has strangled his language in his tears. 
 
 (Hen. VIII. V. i. 156). 
 
 The broken rancour of your high-swol'n hearts. 
 
 (Rich. III. II. ii. 117). 
 
 47. My Lord, dissemlDle with her, speak her fair. 
 
 (II. ii. 225). 
 
 I must entreat him, I must speak him fair. 
 
 (I. iv. 183). 
 
 (Also I. i. 42 ; II. iv. 27 ; V. i. gi). 
 
 My gracious Lord, entreat him, speak him fair. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. IV. i. 120. F.) 
 
 I'll write unto them and entreat tliem fair. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. I. i. 271).
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 45 I 
 
 You must speak Sir John Falstaff fair. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. V. ii. 33). 
 
 Do I entice you ? Do I speak you fair ? 
 
 {M. N. D. II. i. 199). 
 
 48. Whoss pining' heart her inward sighs have "blasted, 
 And "body with continual mourning wasted. 
 
 (II. iv. 23). 
 
 Let Benedick . . . consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. 
 
 {M. Ado III. i. 77). 
 
 Blood-consuming sigh=;, blood-drinking, and blood- 
 sucking sighs, are well-known Shakespearian phrases. 
 (See a similar passage, No/- go). 
 
 49. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you. 
 
 (II. iv. 56). 
 
 I cannot stay to speak. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. II. iv. 86). 
 
 I cannot stay to hear tliese articles. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. I. i. 180). 
 
 I will not stay thy questions ; let me go. 
 
 (iV. A'. D. II. i. 235. F.). 
 
 50. Yet, lusty lords, I have escaped your hands. . . . 
 
 (II. V. i.). 
 
 I wonder how he 'scaped ? 
 
 (II. iv. 21). 
 
 I wonder how tlie king escaped our hands ? 
 
 (3 Hcu VI. II. i. 1. F. V.) 
 
 51. When! Can you tell? 
 
 (II. V. 57). 
 
 A slang expression, equivalent to " Don't you wish you 
 may get it ? " It occurs in the 1616 edition of Faiistns, 
 Sc. ix., and is found also in Com. Er. III. i. 53, and i Hen. 
 IV. II. i. 43, (See also Tit. A. I. i. 202). 
 
 52. Treacherous Earl ! Shall I not see the king ? 
 The King of heaven, perhaps : no other king. 
 
 (III. i. IS).
 
 452 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 A similar profane retort of ironical antithesis occurs in 
 Rich. III. I. ii. 105. 
 
 O, lie was gentle, mild and virtuous : — 
 
 The fitter for the King of heaven that hath him. 
 
 53. As though your highness were a school"boy still, 
 And must toe awed and govern'd like a child. 
 
 (III. ii. 30). 
 
 I see no reason wliy a king of years 
 Should be to be protected like a child. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. II. iii. 28. F.). 
 
 Why should he then protect our sovereign, 
 He being of age to govern of himself? 
 
 {lb. I. i. 165). 
 
 54. Heaven's great "beams 
 On Atlas' shoulder shall not lie more safe. 
 
 (III. ii. 76). 
 
 Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. V. i. 36). 
 
 Never did Atlas such a burden wear. 
 
 As she in holding up the world oppressed. 
 
 (Bacon's Device.) 
 
 Your lordship, being the Atlas of the Commonwealth . 
 
 (Letter to Burghley.) 
 
 55. Ah, l3oy ! this towardness makes thy mother fear 
 Thou art not mark'd to many days on earth. 
 
 (Ill.ii. 79). 
 
 So wise so young, they say do never live long . . . 
 Short summers lightly have a forward spring. 
 
 {Rich. III. III. i. 79,94)- 
 
 56. And march to fire them from their starting holes. 
 
 (III. ii. 127). 
 
 He tliat parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, 
 And fire us hence like foxes. 
 
 {LearY. iii. 22. T.). 
 
 What starting-hole canst thou now hnd ? 
 
 (i Hen. IV. II. iv. 290).
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 453 
 
 For starting-hole see also Bacon's Syl. Syl., 998. 
 "Starting-holes and Evasions" are referred to in Bacon's 
 Report on Lopez. "Life" L 283. Compare also, — 
 
 Yet this I ne'er shall know, but live in doubt, 
 Till my bad angel fire my good one out. 
 
 (Son. 144). 
 
 These references to starting-holes, and firing out may 
 refer to the law of Carseoli, which decreed death to captive 
 foxes. 
 
 Cur igitur missoe vinctis ardentia taedes 
 Terga f erant vulpes, causa docenda mihi est. 
 
 ' (Ovid Fast IV. 68r, 705). 
 
 The same reference to the foxes of Carseoli is made in 
 I Tamburlaine 1. i. 31. 
 
 For this reference I am indebted to Mr. William 
 Theobald. 
 
 57. I will have heads and lives for him, as many 
 As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers. 
 
 (III. ii. 132). 
 
 Plantagenct, of thee and of thy sons, 
 
 Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I'll have more lives. 
 
 Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. I. i. 95). 
 
 58. My Lord, perceive you, how these rehels swell ? 
 
 (III. ii. 181). 
 
 A phrase of quite Baconian complexion and Shake- 
 spearean condensation ; swell, being used as the concrete 
 presentation of all the various forms of passion or emotion, 
 which cause it and are t3'pified b}' it. (See also No. 14). 
 
 59. It is hut temporal that thou canst inflict : 
 
 The worst is death. 
 
 (III. iii. 57). See also 95. 
 
 The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. . . . 
 The worst is death, and death will have his day. 
 
 ^A'/(//. //. III. ii.94 103).
 
 4^[ SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 60. Better die to live, 
 Tiian live in infamj' under such a king. 
 
 (III. iii. 58). 
 
 Here on n\\ knee I beg mortality, 
 Rather than hfe preserved with infamy. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. IV. V. 32). 
 
 61. Can ragged stony walls 
 Immure thy virtue tliat aspired to heaven ? 
 
 (III. iii. 71). 
 
 That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, 
 Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. 
 
 {Rom. 'Jul. III. i. 122). 
 
 My ragged prison walls. 
 
 {Rich. II. V. V. 21). 
 
 The ragged stones. 
 
 (27/. A. V. iii. 133). 
 
 This worm-eaten hold of ragged stone. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. Induct. 35). 
 
 The splitting rocks cowcr'd in the sinking sands. 
 And would not dash me with their ragged sides. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. ii. 97). 
 
 Then let not winter's ragged hand deface. 
 
 (Son. 6). 
 
 Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name. 
 
 (Lncrecc 892). 
 
 62. AlDrother? No, a toutcher of thy friends. 
 
 (IV. i. 4). 
 
 Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. 
 
 {Jul. Ccvs. II. i. 166). 
 
 63. Stay time's advantage with your son. 
 
 (IV. n. 18). 
 
 The advantage of the time prompts me aloud. 
 
 {Tro. Cr. III. iii. 2). 
 
 Beyond him in the advantage of the time. 
 
 {Cynib. IV. i. 12).
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 455 
 
 . Make use of time ; let no advantage slip. 
 
 {Vcn. A. 129). 
 
 Take all the swift advantage of the hours. 
 
 {Ridi. III. IV. i. 49). 
 
 (See Chap. XII. 36, p. 261). 
 
 64. Would cast up caps and clap their hands for joy. 
 
 (IV. ii. 55). 
 
 The rabblement hooted, and clapped their chopt hands, and threw 
 up their sweaty night-caps. {'J"l- Cess. I. ii. 246). 
 
 (See also Cor. IV. vi. 130-133). T. 
 
 65. To bid the English king a "base. 
 
 (IV. ii. 66). 
 
 To bid the wind a base he now prepares. 
 
 {Veil. A. 303). 
 
 Indeed I bid the base for Proteus. 
 
 (2\ G. V. I. ii.97). T. 
 
 66. What now remains ? 
 
 (IV. iii. 17). 
 
 (Also in Rich. II. IV. i. 222 ; 3 Hen, VI. IV. iii. 60, vii. 7). 
 
 67. Galop apace, iDright PhcElDus, through the sky, 
 And dusky night, in rusty iron car, 
 Between you "both, shorten the time, I pray, 
 That I may see the most desired day. 
 
 (IV. ui. 44). 
 
 It is generally agreed that this passage (1598) suggested 
 the celebrated passage in Rom. Jul. (1597) III. li. 1-4. 
 (D. T.) 
 
 68. What, was I horn to fly and run away. 
 
 And leave the Mortimer's conquerors hehind ? 
 Give me my horse ! [l\. v. 4). 
 
 Mr. White ("Our English Hoiner," p. 199), points to 
 this passage as an anticipation of Richard III.'s outburst, — 
 
 A horse ! a horse ! My kingdom for a horse ! . . . 
 Slave ! I have set my life upon a cast,
 
 456 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 And I will stand the hazard of the die . . . 
 A horse 1 a horse ! My kingdom for a horse. 
 
 (See A' /(■//. ///. V. iv. 7-13J. 
 
 69. Let us ... in this iDed of honour die with fame. 
 
 (IV. V. 7). 
 
 Triumplis over chance in honour's lofty bed. 
 
 {Tit. A. I. i. 178). 
 
 They died in honour's lofty bed. 
 
 {lb. III. i. 11). 
 
 70. Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe. 
 
 (IV. V. 3j. 
 
 Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu ; 
 He'll shape his old course in a country new. 
 
 {Lear I. i. 189). 
 
 71. Away ! we are pursued. 
 
 (IV. V. 9). 
 
 Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. II. V. 127). 
 
 72. Make trial now of that philosophy, 
 That in the famous nurseries of arts. 
 
 Thou sucked'st from Plato and from Aristotle. 
 
 (IV. vi. 17). 
 
 Fair Padua, nursery of arts. . . . 
 To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. 
 
 {Tarn. SIi. I. i. 2, 28). 
 
 Of your philosophy, you make no use 
 If you give place to accidental evils. 
 
 {yitl. Ca'S. IV. iii. 145). 
 
 Even by the rule of that philosophy, &c. 
 
 {lb. V. i. loi). 
 
 Nurse, and its cognate, Nurser)', is a favourite figure with 
 the poet and philosopher. 
 
 Rome, the nurse of judgment. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. II. ii. 94). 
 
 Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. 
 
 {Tw. G. F. III. i. 243
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 457 
 
 Military science is spoken of as, — "A nursery to our 
 gentry." [All's W. I. ii. i6). 
 
 Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. 
 
 (.1/. /V. II. i. 288). 
 
 Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy. 
 
 {Tain. SIi. Iiid. ii. 135). 
 
 Peace . . . dear nurse of Arts. 
 
 {Hen. V. V. ii. 35). 
 
 Bacon speaks of the Universitie.^^ as "those nurseries and 
 gardens of learning." ("Life" V. 143). And "Those 
 parts had formally been a nursery of their friends." 
 ("Hen. Vn." Works VI. 57). 
 
 73. Father, this life contemplative is heaven. 
 
 (IV. vi. 20). 
 
 Our court shall be a little Academe 
 Still and contemplate in living art. 
 
 [L. L. L. I. i. 13). 
 
 74. With awkward winds and sore tempests driven. 
 
 (IV. vi. 34). 
 
 Twice by awkward winds . . . drove back. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. ii. 83). 
 
 We see the wind set sore upon our sails. 
 
 (A'/c7/. //. II. i. 265). 
 
 This sore night {i.e., stormy). 
 
 {Macb. II. IV. 3). 
 
 75. We shall see them shorter Itj the heads. 
 
 (IV. vi. 93). 
 
 The time hath been, 
 Would you have been so brief with him, he would 
 Have been as brief with you, to shorten you, 
 For taking so the head, your whole head's length. 
 
 (/e/c//. //. III. iii. 10). T. 
 
 76. Hence, feigned weeds ! unfeigned are my woes ! 
 
 [Til I Dicing off liis ilisgiiise). 
 
 (IV. vi. 96).
 
 45^ SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Every word here is equally Shakespearean and Baconian : 
 so also is the antithesis. The dramatic situation recalls 
 that in Lear, when the King throws off his garments, 
 exclaiming, "Off! off! ye lendings ! Come, unbutton 
 here." (Tearing off his clothes). (Lear III. iv. 113). 
 
 77. Cease to lament. 
 
 (V. i. I ; also II. iv. 29). 
 
 Cease to lament. 
 
 (Tiv. G. V. III. i. 241). 
 
 78. Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court, 
 And. that you lay for pleasure here a space, 
 
 Not of compulsion or necessity. 
 
 (V. i. 2). 
 
 The same idea, with large and most poetic amplification, 
 is in Rich. U. I. iii. 262-303, where Bolingbroke, being 
 banished, is urged by Gaunt to imagine that his banish- 
 ment is only a "travel that thou takest for pleasure." 
 
 Look ! what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
 
 To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou comest. 
 
 79. The forest deer, heing struck. 
 Runs to an herh that closeth up the wounds. 
 
 (V. i. 9). 
 
 Mr. Tancock (Clarendon Edition) asks, "Is it likely that 
 Marlowe had in mind Virgil ? " 
 
 Dictamnum genetrix Cretoea carpit ab Ida 
 Puberibus caulem foliis, et flora comantem 
 Purpureo : non ilia feris incognita capris 
 Gramina, cum tergo volucres h^csere sagitt:e. 
 
 {ALneid, XII. 412-415). 
 
 The reply to Mr. Tancock is, — Certainly ; this passage was 
 in the poet's mind. Bacon quotes the passage to illustrate 
 the same idea, and the poetic fancy in Marlowe's verse 
 finds scientific expression in Bacon's prose. (See "Adv. 
 of L." U. xhi. 2, p. 150 Clar. ; Dc Aug. V. ii.)
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 459 
 
 80. But when the imperial lion's flesh is gored, 
 He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw. 
 And, highly scorning that the lowly earth . 
 Should drink his "blood, mounts up to the air. 
 
 (V.i. II). 
 
 Aspiring Lancaster. 
 
 (I. i. 92). 
 
 What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster 
 
 Sink to the uround ? I thought it would have mounted. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. V. vi. 61— D.F.V.) 
 
 fci 
 
 The lion, d3'ing, thrusteth forth his paw 
 
 And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage 
 
 To be o'erpower'd. 
 
 {Rich. II. V. i. 29). 
 
 The same idea, seen also in No. 6i, namely, mounting 
 to the clouds and scorning the lower levels left behind, is 
 seen in another guise, in the following passage: — 
 
 Lowliness is 3'oung ambition's ladder, 
 Whereto the climber-upwards turns his face; 
 But when he once attains the upmost round 
 Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 
 Bv which he did ascend. 
 
 {Jul Cics. II. i. 22). 
 
 81. Whose dauntless mind. 
 
 iV. i. 15). 
 
 Thy dauntless mind. 
 
 (3 Hell. VI. III. iii. 17). 
 
 82. Thus hath pent and mew'd me in a prison. 
 
 (V. i. 8). 
 
 Pent occurs in Coriolanus and Cymbeline. E.xcepting 
 these, pent and mewed are words which are only found, in 
 this sense, in the early historical plays — i.e., Tarn. Sh., 
 Rom. Jul., L. L. Lost, M.N.D.: Ex gr:—"ln shady 
 cloister mewed: " " being pent from liberty." 
 
 It occurs with the same sense of imprisonment in the 
 Sonnets.
 
 460 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass. 
 ' (Sonnet 5). 
 
 I, being pent in thee, 
 Perforce am thine and all that is in me. 
 
 (Sonnet 133). 
 
 Bacon writing to Buckingham, June 4th, 1621, imme- 
 diately after being released from his three or four days' 
 imprisonment in the Tower, says, " My adversity hath 
 neither spent nor pent my spirits" ("Life" VII. 281). 
 Here, as elsewhere, the word refers to prison restraint. 
 The Shakespearean use is seen in the following passages : 
 
 Away with her, and pen her up. 
 
 {Cyiiib. I. i. 152). 
 
 Let me not be pent up, sir. 
 
 {L. L. L. I. ii. 160). 
 
 83. {a) I am lodged witliin this cave of care, 
 (6) Where sorrow at my elloow still attends, 
 (0 To company my heart with sad laments. 
 
 (V. i. 32). 
 
 {a) Where care lodges. 
 
 (Rout. Jul. II. iii. 36). 
 
 See Promiis Note 1203: " Lodged next " (one of a group 
 of Romeo and Juliet notes). 
 
 {b) Conscience is . . . even now at my elbow. 
 
 (A'/c7/. ///. I. iv. 150). 
 
 The fiend is at mine elbow. 
 
 {Mcr. Veil. II. ii. 2). 
 
 For company, as a verb, we have, 
 
 (c) I am, sir, 
 
 The soldier that did company these three 
 In poor beseeming. 
 
 {Cymb. V. v. 407). 
 
 84. My heart . . . "bleeds within me for this sad 
 
 exchange. 
 
 (V. i. 35).
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 461 
 
 The blood weeps from m}- heart when I do shape, &c. 
 
 (2 Hen IV. IV. iv. 58). 
 
 My heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick. 
 
 {lb. II. ii. 51). 
 
 I bleed inwardly for m\- lord. 
 
 {Tiiiiou I. ii. 211). 
 
 Bleeding inwards and shut vapours strangle soonest and oppress 
 most. (Bacon's " Hen. VII.," Op. VI. 153). 
 
 For Bacon's and Shakespeare's references to inward 
 bleeding, see Chap. XII., Sect. 12., p. 240. 
 
 85. For he's a lamh, encompassed hy wolves. 
 
 (V. i. 41). 
 
 Such safety finds 
 The trembling lamb environed by wolves. 
 
 (3 Hen VI. I. i. 242 (V). 
 
 86. But if proud Mortimer do wear this crown, 
 Heaven turn it to a hlaze of quenchless fire. 
 
 (V. i. 45). 
 
 I would to God that the inclusive verge 
 Of golden metal that must round my brow 
 Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain. 
 
 {Ricli. Ill IV. i. 59). 
 
 Th}^ crown does sear mine eyeballs. 
 
 {Macb. IV. i. 113). 
 
 For quenchless, see 3 Hen. T7. I. iv. 28; Lucrece, 1554. 
 
 87. Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, 
 Or if I live, let me forget myself. 
 
 (V. i. no). 
 
 Compare this with the many instances in Shakespeare 
 in which voluntary forgetting is spoken of as possible. 
 See the fuller discussion in Chap. XL, Sect. 4., p. 216. 
 
 88. Inhuman creature, nursed with tiger's milk ! 
 
 (V. i. 71). 
 
 There is no more mercv in him than there is milk in a male tiger" 
 
 {Cor. V. iv. 29).
 
 462 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 89. Call me not lord ; away out of my sight. 
 
 (V. i. 113). 
 
 So in the similar scene in Ricli. II. Northumberland 
 addresses the King as My lord, and the Kin^^ replies : — 
 
 No lord of thine, tliou hau^lit, insultiniLi" man. 
 
 {Ricli. II. IV. i. 254). 
 
 See 75. Brandis says that the abdication scene in 
 Rich. II. " is a downright imitation of the abdication scene 
 in Marlowe." 
 
 90. Bear this to the Queen, 
 
 Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs: 
 
 [Gives a liandkcrchicf] 
 
 If with the sight thereof she iDe not mov'd, 
 Return it "back and dip it in my "blood, (V. i. 117). 
 
 She with her tears 
 Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks, 
 Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs 
 To fan and blow them dry again she seeks. 
 
 (IV/?. .4. 49). 
 
 Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again. 
 
 {lb. 966). 
 
 Sorrow's wind and rain. 
 
 (A Lover's Lameiil). 
 
 " Why, man, if the river were dry, T am able to iill it with my 
 tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with mv sighs. 
 
 {Tico Gen/. ]'er. II. iii. 57). 
 
 Shakespeare was much given to find in tears and sighs 
 the constituents of a tempest. 
 
 Gerald Massey {Sonnets, pp. 465 — 468) comments on 
 the following lines from "England's Helicon," which he 
 claims for Shakespeare: — 
 
 With windy sighs disperse them in the skies, 
 Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain. 
 
 The same use of a blood-stained napkin is in 3 Hen. VI. 
 II. i. 60, and in Mark Antony's speech:—
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 463 
 
 Dip their napkins in his sacred blood. 
 
 {■Jill. Cc's. III. ii. 138.) 
 
 91. And thus most liumt)ly do we take our leave. 
 
 (V. i. 124). 
 
 Here hum"bly of your grace we take our leave. 
 
 (IV. vi. 77). 
 
 And thus most humbly I do take my leave. 
 
 (3 Hai. VI. I. ii. 61. F.) 
 
 And so, I take my leave. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. IV. viii. 28). 
 
 And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. 
 
 {Rich. III. III. vii. 244). 
 
 I humbly take my leave. 
 
 {Cyiiib. I. V. 45). 
 
 As a ceremonious expression this is found at the end of 
 many of Bacon's letters, — to Lady Burghley, Lord 
 Burghley, Pickering, Rutland, and to his own mother. 
 (See "Life" Vol. I., 12, 13, 60, 117, 293, bis; II. 18). 
 
 92. To wretched men, death is felicity. 
 
 (V. i. 127). 
 
 The word fcliciiy occurs only twice in Shakespeare, and, 
 in one of these cases, it is applied to death, as a release 
 from trouble : — 
 
 Absent thee irom fclicify awhile, 
 
 And in this harsh world, draw tin' breath in pain. 
 
 (Ham. V. ii. 358). 
 
 93. Well may I rent his name that rends my heart. 
 
 {Tears the paper). 
 
 (V. i. 140). 
 
 "This passion, shewn in the unavailing tearing of the 
 writ, may be compared with passion of Rich. II., as he 
 dashes the looking-glass to pieces. {Cf. Rich II. IV. i. 
 228.") T. 
 
 94. Even so betide my soul as I use him. 
 
 (V. i. 148).
 
 464 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 And so betide to me 
 As well I tender you :ind :ill of 3-ours. 
 
 (A'a7/. ///. II. iv. 71). 
 
 95. Of this I am assured, 
 That death ends all, and I can die "but once. 
 
 (V. i. 153). 
 
 The valiant never taste of death but once . . . 
 
 Death, a necessary evil, 
 
 Will come when it will come. 
 
 {Jul. Ors. II. ii. 33-37). 
 
 (See also No. 59). T. 
 
 96. For now we hold an old wolf "by the ears. 
 
 (V. ii. 7). 
 
 More safety there is in a tiger's jaws, 
 
 Than his emt)racements. 
 
 (V. i. 116). 
 
 (See Pyomus note 829 — " To hold a wolf by the ears.") 
 
 In Shakespeare, as in Marlowe, this note suggests varia- 
 tions on the original metaphor : the exact counterpart of 
 Bacon's memorandum is only in Marlowe. 
 
 France, thou may'st hold a serpent by the tongue, 
 
 A chafed lion by the mortal paw, 
 
 A fasting lion safer by the tooth. 
 
 Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. 
 
 {yolui III. i. 258). 
 
 97. No more iDut so. 
 
 (V. ii. 33). 
 
 No more but so ? 
 
 {Ham . L iii. loj. 
 
 98. The nightly iDird (i.e. the owl) 
 
 Whose sight is loathesome to all winged fowls. 
 
 (V. iii. 6). 
 
 Here nothing breeds 
 Unless the nightl}- owl or fatal raven. 
 
 (77/. A. U. iii. 96). 
 
 The owl is often referred to by Shakespeare as the bird of 
 night.
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS, 465 
 
 99. Art thou so resolute as thou wast ? 
 
 What else, my lord. ? and far more resolute. 
 
 (V, iv. 22). 
 
 (Also IV. vi. 117 ; V. v. 25 and 32). 
 
 For the significance of this phrase see Chapter XI., p. 
 221. 
 
 100. I learn'd. in Naples how to poison flowers . . . 
 Or, whilst one is asleep, to take a quill 
 
 And blow a little powder in his ears. 
 
 (V.iv.31). 
 
 This method of poisoning reminds one of the murder of 
 Hamlet's father. Bacon habitually associates poisoning 
 with Ital}^ Thus, in his charge against Wentworth : "It 
 is an offence that I may truly say of it, non est nostri generis, 
 nee sanguinis. It is, thanks be to God, rare in this island 
 of Brittany . . . You may find it in Rome and Italy. 
 There is a religion for it." ("Life" V. ii. 215). In 
 Cymbeline we find "drug-damned Italy," and "false 
 Italian (as poison-tongued)." 
 
 101. Fear'd am I more than lov'd ; let me Ido fear'd. 
 
 (V. iv. 51). 
 
 Would'st thou "be lov'd and fear'd ? 
 
 (I. i. 168). 
 She shall be lov'd and fear'd. 
 
 {Hen. VIII. V. V. 31). 
 
 That noble honour'd lord is fear'd and lov'd. 
 
 {W.T.V.i. 158'. 
 
 Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd, 
 Than is vour Majesty. 
 
 {Hen. V. II. ii. 25). 
 
 This deed will make thee onh' lov'd for fear ; 
 But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love, 
 
 {Lucrece 610). 
 
 And it appears he is beloved of those 
 That onlv liave fear'd Cagsar. 
 
 {Ant. CI. I. iv. 26). 
 
 Bacon, in his early letter of advice to the Queen (1584), 
 
 GG
 
 466 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 speaks of "A prince that is not beloved nor feared of his 
 people." (" Life " I. 53). 
 
 102. "Whose looks are as a iDreeching' to a boy. 
 
 (V. iv. 54). 
 
 I am no breeching scliolar in the scliools. 
 
 {Tarn. SIi. III. i. 18). 
 
 None do 3-011 like but an effeminate prince 
 Whom, like a school-boy, you may overawe. 
 
 (i Hcii. VI. I. i. 35). 
 
 103. The Queen and Mortimer 
 Shall rule the realm, the King ; and none rules us. 
 
 (V. iv. 64). 
 
 Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king ; 
 Rut I will rule botli her, the king and realm. 
 
 (i Hen. VI. V. V. 107). V.W 
 
 Compare the last speech in the Massacre of Paris, 
 
 For I'll rule France, hut they shall wear tlic crown. 
 
 104. Who's there ? What light is that ? Wherefore comest 
 
 thou? (V. V. 41). 
 
 But wherefore dost thou come ? Is't for my life. 
 
 (3 Hen. VI. V. vi. 29). V. 
 
 Who sent you hither ? Wherefore do you come ? 
 
 {Rich. III. I. iv. 176). 
 
 The murder scenes in 3 Hen. VI. and Rich. III. have 
 precisely similar expressions to those in Edw. II. 
 
 105. Tell IsalDel the queen, I look'd not thus, 
 When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, 
 And there unhorsed the Duke of Cleremont. 
 
 (V. V. 65). 
 
 I tell thee, Pole, when thou did'st run at tilt, 
 And stol'st away our ladies' hearts in France, 
 I thought king Henry had been like to thee. 
 
 {Contention I. iii.) 
 
 Almost reproduced in 2 Hen. VI. I. iii. 53. (D. F. T. V.)
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS, 467 
 
 106. These loois of thine can harbour nought "but death, 
 I see my tragedy written in thy "brows. 
 
 (V. V. 70). 
 
 Yea til is man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 
 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. I. i. 60). 
 
 107. Is't done, Matrevis, and the murderer dead ? 
 Ay, my good lord ; I would it were undone. 
 
 [\ . vi. i). 
 
 This takes suggestion from two Proiims notes, "Things 
 done cannot be undone (Factuin infectwn fieri non potest),'" 
 No. 951 ; and " Odere reges dicta qnce did jubent," No. ^by. 
 The dramatic situation in the text, repentance after 
 execution, is curiously frequent in Shakespeare, see 
 instances in John Il\ ii. 203 — 242; Rich. II. V. vi. 30— 
 52 ; Rich. III. I. iv. 270, 283— 2S5 ; Mcas. for Meas. II. ii. 
 10; Macb. III. ii. 12; Pericles IV. iii. i — 21. For 
 example :— 
 
 He tliat set you on 
 To do this deed will hate you for the deed. 
 
 {Rich. III. I. iv. 261). 
 
 108. As for myself I stand as Jove's huge tree, 
 And others are hut shruhs compar'd to me. 
 
 (V. vi. 10). 
 
 Whose top-branch over-peer'd Jove's spreading tree, 
 And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. 
 
 (3 Hcii. VI. V. ii. 14). 
 
 The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot, 
 But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root. 
 
 [Lticrcce 664). 
 
 Jove's tree is also referred to in As You Like It III. ii. 
 249. (T.) 
 
 109. Base fortune ; now I see that in thy wheel 
 There is a point, to which when men aspire 
 They tumhle headlong down. 
 
 (V. vi. 57).
 
 468 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 For similar reference to the Wheel of Fortune see 
 Hen. V. III. vi. 27 — 40 ; Ham. III. iii. 17 — 23. For the 
 sentiment, apart from the metaphor, see Essay of " Great 
 Place," first paragraph ; and its striking parallels in 
 John III. iv. 137 — 8 ; Rich. HI. I. iii. 259; Troilus III. iii. 
 75 — 87 ; Cymb. III. iii. 45 — 55. In the Cymbeline passage,, 
 written in later life, Bacon seems to draw upon his own 
 experience ; but during the whole of his life the sentiment 
 was often suggested. 
 
 And turn the giddy round of Fortune's wheel. 
 
 {Liicrecc 952). 
 
 For Bacon's references to the Wheel of Fortune see 
 Essays of "Sedition," of "Custom and Education," of 
 "Fortune," the Squire's Speech in Bacon's "Device," and 
 a late letter to King James. Also in As Yon Like It,. 
 Ant. CI., and 3 Hen. VI. 
 
 110. Mortimer (a) scorns the -world, and (b), as a traveller^ 
 
 Goes to discover countries yet unknown. 
 
 (V. vi. 62). 
 
 (<i) That a gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds 
 Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. 
 
 {Rom, Jul. III. i. 122), 
 
 [b) The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
 
 No traveller returns. {Ham. III. i. 79). 
 
 See also No. 61. 
 
 111. And jointly 'both yield up their wished right. 
 
 (V. i. 63). 
 
 And needs must I resign my wished crown. 
 
 {lb. 70). 
 
 This peculiar use of the word wished, as equivalent to 
 valued, something that is clung to, is not infrequent in the 
 earlier Shakespearean plays. It occurs also in one of the 
 later plays — viz., Winter''^ Tale. Ex. gr. : — 
 
 The wished haven of my bliss. 
 
 {Tdin. Sh. V. i. 131),
 
 MARLOWE PARALLELS. 469 
 
 The benefit of the wished light. 
 
 {Com. Er. I. i. 91). 
 
 Bring this matter to the wished end. 
 
 (I Hen. VI. III. iii. 28). 
 
 Losing ken of Albion's wished coast. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. ii. 113). 
 
 This use of the word •wished, in which a participle 
 becomes an adjective, is obviously a reflection of a 
 similar evolution in the Latin word optatus. Ex. gr: — 
 
 Optata potiuntur Troes arena. 
 
 {Virg. .£. I. 172). 
 
 112. Too long have I lived 
 "Whenas my son thinks to ahridge my days. 
 
 ^V. vi. 81). 
 
 Which in a moment will ahridge his life. 
 
 (//'. i. 42). 
 
 Thy staying will abridge thy life. 
 
 {Tico. Gent. Ver. Ill.i. 245). 
 
 Death rock nie asleep ; abridge my doleful da3's. 
 
 (2 Hen. IV. II. iv. 211). 
 
 113. These tears, distilling from mine eyes. 
 
 (V. vi. 99). 
 
 O Earth, I will befriend thee with more rain 
 
 That shall distil from these two ancient urns [i.e. his eyes]. 
 
 {T.A. III. i. 16). 
 
 Tears distilled by moans. 
 
 {Rom. fi:!. V. iii. 15). 
 
 This is undoubtedly a large collection ol parallels 
 between Shakespeare and Marlowe. If such a collection 
 could be made by comparing all the Marlowe plays and 
 poems, the question of identical authorship would present 
 Itself; much more so when only one play, and that not a 
 very long one, is brought into comparison. I admit that 
 all these correspondences are not of equal value, — some are 
 so striking as to make the evidence of some kind of
 
 470 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 approximation between the two quite irresistible: others 
 are less conclusive. Also it may be allowed that many of 
 these phrases or fancies which are common to Shake- 
 speare and Marlowe may be found in other writers. But 
 even these are not without their significance. No two 
 writers help themselves in precisely the same way to the 
 current phrases and notions that may be floating in the air 
 at the time. Some individuality is shewn even in these 
 points of correspondence; and taking the whole collection, 
 the weak and the strong tied up into one parcel, I will 
 venture to affirm that no two authors hunt in couples with 
 such strange and "semblable coherence," as do Shake- 
 speare and Marlowe. 
 
 In estimating the significance of the large collection of 
 parallels, which I have here produced, it is to be noticed, 
 that in many cases the resemblance between Marlowe and 
 Shakespeare consists in the fact that Marlowe gives us the 
 earliest presentation of ideas, and forms of poetic ex- 
 pression, which are repeated very frequently in Shake- 
 speare, and have come to be regarded as characteristic 
 forms of his art. In no less than 31 of these cases, the 
 parallel is not between two isolated passages, but between 
 the one in Marlowe and a more or less extensive collection 
 in Shakespeare. The cases I refer to are, Nos. i, 7, 14, 
 15, 16, 17, 20, 24, 29, 32, 33, 34, 39, 43, 46, 47, 48, 58, 61, 
 63, 72, 80, 84, 86, 87, 90, 99, 104, 108, 109, no. In all these 
 cases where Marlowe resembles Shakespeare, he resembles 
 that in him which is most Shakespearean. 
 
 If the probability of identical authorship is very great 
 when the evidence is tabulated in over a hundred instances, 
 it is very much augmented, when so many of these instances 
 are a group themselves, and a group of passages which has 
 been made into English verbal currency by their use in 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Besides these parallel passages, there are numerous 
 cases in which the peculiar use of single words or short 
 terms of expression brings to mind analogous use of
 
 SIMILAR PHRASEOLOGY. 47I 
 
 language in Shakespeare. The only critic who has given 
 any special attention to these single words and small 
 phrases is Mr. Tancock, in the Clarendon Edition. What 
 little use Mr. Fleay makes of them, I have already indi- 
 cated. I would gladly give all these words and phrases, 
 with detailed references to the passages, and to the 
 corresponding words in Shakespeare ; but I will content 
 myself with a simple enumeration, followed by a few 
 supplementary comments. The words or phrases are :^ 
 
 Adamant; Argues; Avouch; Bandy; It boots not; 
 Brainsick; Braved; Breeching; Brown-bills; Buckler; 
 Canker; Caucasus; Centre; Civil; Cockerel; Colour; 
 Comfort; Controlnient ; Crownet ; Cullions ; Curstly ; Dash; 
 Drift; Decline; Elysium; Empale; Empery ; Entertain; 
 Exequies; Exigents; Extremes ; Foreslow ; Garish; Gather 
 head ; This gear ; Gentle heavens; Gored; Greekish; Hatch; 
 Haught; Have at; Hearten; A hell of grief; High disgrace; 
 Incense; Infortunate ; Jack; Jesses; Jets it ; Larded with; 
 Leander ; Level at; Long of; Love-sick ; Magnanimity ; 
 Merely; Mickle ; Minion; Mort dieu ; Mounting; Over- 
 watched ; Pass not ; Pay them home ; Peevish ; Plain ; 
 Prate ; Preachment ; Purge the realm ; Quittance ; Reduce ; 
 Repeal; What resteth ; Runagates; Sophister ; Sort of; 
 Sort out; Speed; Stir; Stomach; Store of; Strange; 
 Tender; Timeless; Totter' d; Toys; Tully ; Vail; Yearns. 
 
 x\ll these words are common to Edward H. and Shake- 
 peare. Bacon uses many of these words. I may refer to 
 the following passages as specimens : — 
 
 Bandy. See Promus, note 1,421, and reference. 
 
 Brainsick. " A mutinous brain-sick soldier." "Life" 
 I. 378. 
 
 Colour, i.e., plausible show of reason : a sense which has 
 acquired currency from Bacon's " Colours of Good and 
 Evil." 
 
 Foreslow. " No coldness in foreslowing, but wisdom in
 
 472 SHAKESFEARli STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 choosing' his time." " Hen. VII." Op. vi. 179. See 3 
 Hen. ri. II. iii. 56. 
 
 Forcslow. " I forget not nor foreslow not your Majesty's 
 commandment." Report on Owen, 1614. " Life " V. loi. 
 
 Hatched. " In her chamber the conspiracy had been 
 hatched.'' lb. p. 46. 
 
 Infortunatc. Essays 4 and 40. 
 
 Long of. "If the king did no greater matters, it was long 
 o/himWf." "Hen. VII." Op. vi. 244 
 
 Pay home resembles Bacon's " He could dissemble home.'' 
 It is Shakespeare's own phrase "I will pay thy graces 
 home both in word and deed." Temp. V. i. 70. Meiklejohn, 
 commenting on Macb. I. iii. 120, says " This is a peculiarly 
 Shakespearian use of the word home. We have still to 
 strike home; but Shakespeare gives us the phrase. To push 
 home ; to charge home ; to draw home, (of a bow) ; a 
 game played home, i.e., in good earnest ; all my services 
 you have paid home, — and several more. 
 
 Runagate. " Perkin would prove but a runagate." 
 Hen. Vn. p. 172. 
 
 Sophister. "Orators and Sophistcrs." "Adv. of L," II. 
 xiv. 6. 
 
 I will add the following notes 0:1 some other peculiarities 
 in the phraseology of Edward H. 
 
 1. We find a number of over words — over-base, over- 
 bear, over-daring, over-peered, over-ruled, over-stretched, 
 over-stronged, over-watched, over-woo. Shakespeare is very 
 fond of these "over" adjectives and verbs, and the use of 
 them is very characteristic. There are about 129 different 
 compounds of this type, made by over or o'er. Five out of 
 the nine used in Edward U. are also in Shakespeare, viz : 
 over-bear, -daring, -peered, -ruled, -watched. 
 
 2. Marlowe's use of the word strange is remarkable, // 
 he be strange, and not regard my words. Strange here 
 means distant, unfriendly, what we should call stand-offish. 
 So 2 Hen. VI. III. i. 5. Troihis III. iii. 51, "a form of 
 strangeness." There is another use of the word, as in Is it
 
 COMMON WORDS PROMOTED. 473 
 
 not strange, I. ii, 55, in which the word has no unusual 
 sense, but the phrase is so frequent, both in Bacon and 
 Shakespeare, as to be noteworthy as a perpetual trick of 
 speech. In the Promtis we find this anticipated by the 
 note / find that strange. No, 302, and this occurs, with 
 slight variations, in many well-known passages in Ham., 
 Jul. C, Troilus, Temp., &c. It is found in Essays 10, 18, 
 22, 27, 44, 56; also \n "Adv.," and elsewhere. It is an 
 expression which would pass unnoticed but for the singular 
 frequency of its recurrence, and its insertion in the Promiis. 
 Strange is certainly used strangely by Shakespeare. The 
 following passages are unintelligible unless strange means 
 like a stranger, which is the meaning in Marlowe. 
 
 Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, 
 And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye. 
 
 (^Sonnet 49). 
 
 I will acquaintance strangle and look strange. 
 
 (^Sonnet iSy). 
 
 She puts on outward strangeness, seem unkind. 
 
 (I'cii. Ad. 310). 
 
 Bacon uses the word in precisely the same way. For 
 example^" The Duchess made it new and strange to see 
 him " Hen. VH., Works VI. 138, and see also p. 241. 
 
 3. The word suck (see parallel 72) belongs to a class of 
 words which are promoted, so to speak, from the ranks, 
 and ennobled for poetic service. In Shakespeare, such 
 words are boil, bulk, crack, fust, jump, prate, shop, spit, 
 suck, top, tub, wink, &c. Bacon iias the same habit : he 
 also uses jump, suck, shop, top. A crowd of specimens may 
 be picked out by looking over the terminology of his tables of 
 instances, in the second book of Nov. Org., where poetry and 
 science are curiously blended. Suck is a very characteristic 
 specimen. Shakespeare has suck melancholy, suck the 
 sweets of philosophy, suck wisdom, suck the honey of 
 music vows, suck the sense of fear. Bacon has suck 
 suspicion, suck experience, &c. Ex. gr. : " If a man be
 
 474 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN L'IGHT. 
 
 thought secret it inviteth discovery, as the more close air 
 sucketh in the more open." See Essays of " Dissimula- 
 tion," of " Travel," "Hen. VI." 
 
 4. Marlowe has thrice welcome, treble-blest. Shakespeare 
 is ver}- partial to this method of augmenting the import of 
 his words. He has thrice fair, crowned, famed, gentle, 
 noble ; tliricc double a=s ; iiCJice treble shame ; double and 
 treble admonition. Bacon had the same habit, ex. ^r., 
 Thrice loving friend, "Life," VH., 280. The Pronius has 
 a Note, 197a, Bis ac ter pulchra, shewing that this trick of 
 speech was consciously adopted. 
 
 Besides these resemblance in thought and language, 
 there are other points of similarity in style, or tricks of 
 speech which deserve notice. 
 
 I. The frequent use of echoing retort or repartee. 
 
 Ex. gr. : 
 
 For Iiell complain unto the sec of Rome. 
 Repartee. Let liini complain unto the see of hell. 
 
 (I. i. 190). 
 
 Is this the duty that you owe your king ? 
 Repartee. We know our duties ; let him know his peeis. 
 
 (I. iv. 22). 
 
 You that be noble-born should pity him. 
 Repartee. You that are princely-born should cast him off. 
 
 (Ib.'So). 
 
 See also I. iv. 20 ; 160 ; H. ii. 86 ; 92 ; V. iv. 89. 
 Repartees formed on this model are frequent in Shake- 
 speare: — Ex. gr. : 
 
 Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. 
 Rep. : Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. 
 
 {'Jul. C(cs. V. iii. 65). 
 
 Mistake not, uncle, farther than you should. 
 Rep. : Take not, good cousin, farther than you should. 
 Lest you mistake. 
 
 {Rich. II. III. iii. 15). 
 
 There is a large collection of these in J^ich. II. 11. ii. 
 Typical specimens are given rather plentifully in
 
 SHAKESPEAREAN RHETORIC. 475 
 
 the Promus, shewing that Bacon had made a careful study 
 of this rhetorical and dramatic artifice, which, however, is 
 not found in his acknowledged works. Ex. gr.: — 
 
 A meiT}' world when such fellows must correct. 
 
 Rep. — A merry world when tlie simplest must correct. 
 
 (No. 1384). 
 
 It is not the iirst imtruth I have heard reported. 
 
 Rep. — It is not the fust truth I have heard denied. 
 
 (No. 1401). 
 
 See also Pronms Nos. 194, igg, 200, 201, 204-g, &c. 
 
 2. Frequent recurrence of the vivid, rhetorical U5e of 
 this, these : the speaker referring to something of his own, 
 generally his bodily organs of expression, action, or 
 emotion, Ex. gy.: — 
 
 Witness this heart that sighing for thee lireaks. 
 
 (I. iv. 165). 
 
 These tears that drizzle from mine eyes. 
 
 (II. iv. 18). 
 
 Also these hands; these eyes; this breast; these eyelids; this 
 life, &c.; and some of these occur several times. 
 
 The same habit is observable in Shakespeare. Ex. gr.: — 
 
 This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings; . . . 
 These cheeks are pale for watching for your good; . . . 
 These hands are free from guiltless blood-shedding, 
 This breast from harbouring foul, deceitful thoughts. 
 
 (2 Hill. VI. IV. vii. 82, 90, no). 
 
 3. The habit of beginning a scene by an abrupt ques- 
 tion. Thus,— tell jue, Spencer, where is Gaveston ? (II. 
 iv.). Similarly in II. i. ; III. ii.; V. vi. Five instances 
 in this play. 
 
 So in Shakespeare we have: — 
 
 Can no man tell me of my unthrift}- son ? 
 
 {Rich. II. V. iii. I. 
 
 Wilt tliou be gone ? It is not yet near day. 
 
 {Rom. Jul. III. V. r).
 
 476 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 This habit is chiefly characteristic of the early plays, 
 Rich. II. and ///., i and 2 and 3 Hen VI., but it is also 
 somewhat frequent in other plays. 
 
 \. Either a new scene, or an entering speaker in a new 
 section — and as the early quartos are not always divided 
 into acts and scenes, these new sections might be intended 
 for new scenes — begins with some expression of wonder. 
 
 / wonder liow he 'scaped. 
 
 (II. iv. 21). 
 
 The ivind is good, I wonder why he stays. 
 
 (II. ii. i). 
 
 Giirney, I wonder the king dies not. 
 
 (V. V. I). 
 
 The first of these is almost identical with 3 Hen VI. I. i.; 
 II. i. It is slightly varied in — 
 
 I muse my lord of Gloucester is not come. 
 
 (2 Hen. VI. III. i. i; 
 
 Also 
 
 I wonder if Titania be awaked. 
 
 M. N. D. III. ii. 1. 
 
 Welcome, my lord; I marvel our mild husband 
 
 Not met us on our way. 
 
 {Lear IV. ii. i). 
 
 5. There is another curious trick of beginning a scene 
 (or a section of a scene) by a reference to the winds. 
 
 The wind is i^ood; I wonder why he •itays. 
 
 (II. ii.) 
 
 Fair blows the wind for France; blow, gentle gale. 
 
 (IV. i.) 
 
 Now, lords, onr loving friends and counlryineu, 
 IVelcoine to England all with prosperous winds. 
 
 (IV. iv.) 
 
 In Shakespeare we meet with similar cases:— 
 My necessaries arc embarked: farewell.
 
 SIMILAR DRAMATIC SITUATIONS. 477 
 
 And, sister, as the winds give benefit, &c. 
 
 {Ham. I. iii. i). 
 
 Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. 
 
 {Hen. V. II. ii. 12). 
 
 The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland. 
 
 [Rich. II. II. ii. 123). 
 
 6. The dramatic situation in Edward II. in many cases 
 anticipates similar scenes in Shakespeare. Many of these 
 have been already noticed in the parallel passages. See 
 Nos. 2, 4, 12, 33, 43, 67, 68, 76, 78, 8g, 90, 93, 100, 104, 
 105, 106. The following may be added. It will be seen that 
 there are at least 20 passages in Edward II. anticipating 
 dramatic situations to be found in Shakespeare. 
 
 (a) "The whole story of the elder Mortimer being taken 
 prisoner and the king's refusal to ransom him, is very like 
 the story of Sir Edmund Mortimer in Wales, in the reign 
 of Henry IV., who refused to ransom him, or allow of his 
 V3.nsom" {Tancock). Not only is the situation the same, 
 but the indignation of Young Mortimer in Edward II., and 
 of Hotspur in i Hen. IV. is expressed in almost identical 
 and those very whimsical terms. See parallels 40, 43. 
 
 {b) The Queen, in Edward II. I. iv. 160, complains that 
 Gaveston has " robbed her of her lord; " so Bolingbroke in 
 Rich. II. complains of Bushey and Green that they had 
 made a divorce between the Queen and King {Rich. II. 
 III. i. II. (T.). 
 
 Doubly divorced ! Bad men, ye violate 
 
 A twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me, 
 
 And then betwixt me and my married wife. 
 
 {Rich. II. V. i. 71). 
 
 This is a second instance in the same play of the use of 
 this figure of speech. 
 
 (c) The reproaches for misrule uttered in a sort of anti- 
 phonal style by Lancaster and the younger Mortimer 
 (II. ii. 153 — 195) cire much like the reproaches uttered in 
 succession, in the same antiphonal style, by Suffolk, Beau-
 
 478 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 fort, &c., against Duke Humphrey in 2 Hen VI. I, iii. 127 
 — 140. A similar string of accusations is similarly recited 
 m Rich. II. II. i. 241—261. 
 
 (d) In IV. V. 40, Kent speaks of the fallen king as 
 " Edward," and is rebuked by the young prince for omit- 
 ting the ro3'il title. 
 
 So in Rich. II. III. iii. 10, York administers a similar 
 rebuke to Northumberland for calling the fallen monarch 
 simply "Richard." See 75, 8g. 
 
 ie) The resemblances between Edward II. V. v. 41, and 
 the murder scenes in 3 Hen. VI. and Rich. III., and the 
 snnilar exclamations of apprehension, are referred to in 
 No. 104. Mr. Tancock refers to other points of comparison 
 which I need not specify. 
 
 (/") In \ . iv. and elsewhere the younger Mortimer has 
 many of the characteristics of Rich. III. The most curious 
 is that in both cases a hypocritical profession of reluctance 
 to take the protectorate, or the crown, is pictured in pre- 
 cisely similar outlines — a sort of Nolo episcopari. Thus — 
 
 They thrust upon me the protectorship, 
 And sue to me for that that I desire. 
 While, at the Council-table, grave enough, 
 And not unlike a bashful puritan; 
 First I complain of imbecilit}', 
 Saying it is oiiis qiiam i^ravissiminn ; 
 Till, being interrupted by my friends, 
 Suscepi that proviiiciani, as they term it; 
 And, to conclude, I am protector now. 
 
 (V. iv. 55-63). 
 
 This recalls most forcibly the scene in which Richard is 
 found between two bishops, when the Mayor and citizens 
 seek to overcome his affected resistance to accept the 
 dignity which they "thrust upon " him. The lines quoted 
 evidently give the first sketch, or crude outline, of the scene 
 so elaborately worked out in Rich. III. Ill, vii. 95, etc. The 
 " bashful puritan " becomes the protector at his devotions. 
 The " imbecility " reappears as fear lest the citizens have
 
 SHAKESPEAREAN REHEARSALS IN MARLOWE. 479 
 
 come to " reprehend his ignorance," and in unctuous pro- 
 fessions of poverty of spirit, and of defects which he uishes 
 to hide. The friend who interrupts is Buckingham, the 
 spokesman of the citizens, and at the same time Richard's 
 accompHce in the solemn mockery. The onus quaiii 
 gravissimum becomes "the golden yoke of sovereignty." 
 The repeated entreaties, reinforced by threats, break down 
 resistance, till " Susccpi that provinciain'' finds expression 
 in : — 
 
 I am not made of stone, 
 But penetrable to your kind entreats, 
 Albeit against my conscience and my soul: 
 
 and at last he coyly consents to be crowned. 
 
 It is to be noted that neither of these incidents^ 
 that in Edward II. or Rich. III. — is historical. 
 
 This rehearsal on a reduced scale of a scene which is 
 subsequently expanded in another play, is not infrequent in 
 Shakespeare. A similar Marlowe anticipation of Lear is 
 given in No. 2. Another very striking case is in the plays 
 of Two Gentlemen of Verona and Merchant of Venice. In 
 the former play, Lucetta (Julia's maid) asks her mistress 
 to repeat the names of her would-be lovers, while she, 
 Lucetta, adds her comments on each name as it is given. 
 Exactly the same rehearsal, with interposition of comment, 
 occurs between Portia and her maid Nerissa in the latter 
 play: except that the lady supplies the comment, not the 
 maid. 
 
 In the 3rd Parnassus, a scene of rehearsal with answer- 
 ing comment is given with reference to the most popular 
 poets, Shakespeare included. "Read the names," is the 
 challenge, and the reply is, " So I will, if thou wilt help me 
 to censure them." 
 
 For another Shakespearean rehearsal, it may be noted 
 that the Jew of Malta is generally admitted to be the 
 prophetic adumbration of Shylock. 
 
 As to the passage from Marlowe, commented upon in 
 this note (/), it may be also noted that Mr. T. W. White
 
 480 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 refers to Marlowe's habit of " making his villains confess 
 themselves such," as " a characteristic common to him and 
 Shakespeare." ("Our English Homer," 196). Barrachio, 
 in Much Ado, speaks of himself as a villain, and his slander 
 of Hero as a villainy; and Proteus, in Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona, is equally frank in his self-depreciation. 
 
 {h) In the following passage from Edward 11. the policy 
 recommended to Baldock by young Spencer is very much 
 the same as that described in a parable by the fool in Lear. 
 
 Baldock. — Which of the nobles doest thou mean to serve ? 
 
 Y. Spencer. — Not Mortimer, nor any of his side. 
 
 Baldock, learn this of me : a factious lord 
 
 Shall hardly do liimself good, much less us. 
 
 But he that hath the favour of the King, 
 
 May with one word advance us while we live. 
 
 The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man 
 
 On whose good fortune Spencer's hope depends. 
 
 {Edw.II. II. i. 3— ii)' 
 
 The same almost cynical worldly wisdom is preached by 
 the fool : — 
 
 Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it 
 
 break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the 
 
 hill, let him draw thee after. 
 
 {Lcur II. iv. 72). 
 
 This sort of calculated policy is of the same complexion 
 as the arts and tricks described in the Essay of " Cunning," 
 and the chapters in the De Augmentis on the "Architecture 
 of Fortune." 
 
 I have now given such a collection of similarities of very 
 various kinds between Marlowe's Edw. II., and the Shake- 
 speare plays and poems, as suffice, in my view, to prove 
 identity of authorship. I have by no means exhausted the 
 list ; any careful investigator may find others which I have 
 omitted. I have given those which seem to me unequivocal, 
 and left out many which may be real resemblances, but 
 which I prefer to omit rather than expose them as weak
 
 ALL THE PLAYS SUPPLY MARLOWE PARALLELS. 481 
 
 points to hostile criticism. The conclusion ap,^ears to be, 
 that if we had to decide upon the authorship of Edw. II. 
 from internal evidence alone, no one would hesitate for a 
 moment to assign it to Shakespeare. The chief reason for 
 admitting Marlowe is that his name appears on the title 
 pages of the early quartos : a reason strong, if taken alone, 
 but quite capable of being overruled if all the circumstances 
 of the case are duly estimated. I may even claim that the 
 appearance of another name on a composition so evidently 
 Shakesperian, and on other works, — as for instance the 1616 
 Edition of Fatistiis, in which Christopher Marlowe's 
 authorship is historically impossible, — casts a shade of 
 suspicion on all the other Shakesperian title pages, and 
 sets speculation as to authorship absolutely free. 
 
 Doubtless a large proportion of these similarities is 
 derived from the Hen. VI. plays, which some critics regard 
 as non-Shakespearian. But they are not confined to these 
 plays — the aggregate of these is not even a majority of the 
 parallels. If all the similarities derived from i, 2 and 3 
 Hen. VI. were left out, I hardly think the case would be 
 materially weakened. The case is, I believe, proved 
 without them, and we may use these parallels in a sort of 
 alternative way to prove identity of authorship for the dis- 
 puted play, whichever it may be. Only about one-fifth of 
 the entire collection is from these three plays, and of these 
 only one in seven is from i Hen. VI. ; the rest are from the 
 2nd and 3rd parts: i.e., the passages taken from i Hen. VI. 
 are about one-third the number of those taken from either 
 2nd or 3rd ; the numbers may be roughly taken as 12, 36 
 and 36. Looking at the whole collection, it will be found 
 that the number taken from i Hen. VI. is about half the 
 number taken from either Rich. II. or Rich. III., and about 
 the same as those from Tw. G. V. ; Cymh. ; Troilus ; 
 Tit. A. ; Rom. J. ; and Hamlet. Next to these in rank 
 come John; i and 2 Hen. IV.; Hen. V.; L. L. L. ; 
 Tarn. Sh. ; Jul. C, and Lear. The rest of the resemblances 
 are pretty equally distributed amongst the other plays and 
 
 HH
 
 482 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 poems, the lowest rank being assigned to Mer. W., Timon, 
 0th., and the Sonnets. See Index I. 
 
 As Edward II. is a historical play, it is not sur- 
 prising that the preponderance of evidence should 
 be drawn from the historical plays, and, out of 
 these, from those that were written first. There is a 
 marked difference between Shakespeare's early, middle and 
 latest styles— and of course Ediv. II. belongs to the 
 earliest— to the period when those plays were written, ■ 
 which because they possess the characteristics of the early, 
 i.e., the Marlowe period, have been attributed to Marlowe. 
 And it is remarkable that of the three parts of Hen. VI., the 
 resemblances are most numerous in those which are most 
 characteristically Shakesperian, and less numerous in the 
 first and feeblest member of the group. It seems to me, 
 on reviewing the whole case, that Edw. II. is far more 
 Shakespearian than i Hen. VI., and the evidence for Shake- 
 speare's authorship much stronger, apart from its inclusion 
 in the 1623 Folio, 
 
 If one of the Marlowe plays can be satisfactorily proved 
 to be Shakesperean. all may be equally so. Consequentl}^ 
 all the reasoning that has been expended on the proof that 
 certain plays in the Folio are Marlowe's is disposed of, 
 w^ith the result of handing over these proofs and arguments 
 to the support of our case. To my mind the elaborate 
 dissection of 2 and 3 Hen. VI., in which about one-third 
 part of the whole is given to Marlowe, and the rest to 
 Shakespeare — with a few pickings left for Peele, Nash, 
 Greene, and others — confutes itself. It is antecedently 
 most unlikely that the Shakesperian poet would condescend 
 to dress up old plays and publish them as his own, or to 
 run in harness with a miscellaneous company of hack 
 writers, or dramatists of immensely inferior rank. The 
 existence of a variety of styles in such a master of dramatic 
 and literary art is surely not surprising, and the Marlowe 
 style is so decidedly present in Shakespeare that it is just 
 as logical to use its evidence for purposes of inclusion as 
 for exclusion, i.e., to prove that the poet of Shakespeare is
 
 THE SPHERE OF SHAKESPEARE. 483 
 
 the poet of Marlowe, as that Marlowe wrote Shakespeare. 
 And if Mr, Fleay's criterion of identical authorship may be 
 accepted as sufficient to identify the author of Edw. II. 
 with that oi Hen. VI., evidently the much larger extension 
 of the same argument, which I have now presented, 
 reverses the direction of the logical current, and brings 
 Edw. II. into the Shakespeare enclosure, instead of 
 thrusting Hen. VI. outside. 
 
 I have said that I do not attach much importance for 
 argumentative purposes to the sipping, tasting, lip-smacking 
 process which is so freely used in the valuation of these 
 early plays. It might appear about as reasonable to study 
 anatomy by the taste, as to dissect a play by the use simply 
 of literary sensation or sentiment. However this may be, 
 I can in this case very confidently appeal to what, in 
 humble imitation of Bacon, I may call the logic of the 
 palate, as a matter of incommunicable individual percep- 
 tion. I would challenge anyone who has made Shake- 
 speare a stud}' and a companion, who knows his voice, 
 recognises his features, feels his presence — to listen to the 
 tones, look at the features, weigh the pressure of the touch 
 — as these indescribable personal characteristics manifest 
 themselves in Edw. II., and to seiy whether here also we 
 have not the tones, the features, the hand-pressure, the 
 personal sphere of Shakespeare himself. 
 
 Here I cannot forbear adding a remarkable confirmation 
 of this instinctive recognition of Shakespeare behind this 
 mask in the estimate of Marlowe, given by Mr. J. Russell 
 Lowell. I claim these words as an extension of my argument. 
 
 " Not only do I think that Shakespeare caught some 
 hints from him, but there are certain descriptive passages 
 and similes of the greater poet, which, whenever I read 
 them, instantly bring Marlowe to my mind. This is an 
 impression I might find it hard to convey to another, or 
 even to make definite to myself; but it is an old one, 
 and constantly repeats itself, so that I put some con- 
 fidence in it. Marlowe's Edward II. certainly served
 
 484 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 Shakespeare as a model for his carher historical plays. 
 Of course, he surpassed his model, but Marlowe might 
 have said of him as Oderisi, with pathetic modesty, 
 said to Dante of his rival and surpasser, Franco of Bologna, 
 ' The praise is now all his, yet mine in part.'" After a 
 long quotation from Edw. II. V. i. 57 — iii, the genial 
 critic thus expresses his rapture. " Surely one might fancy 
 that to be from the prentice hand of Shakespeare. It is no 
 small distinction that this can be said of Marlowe, for it 
 can be said of no other.'' 
 
 As to Mr. Lowell's recognition of what might be from 
 the prentice hand of Shakespeare, there is no question that 
 the same contrast exists between the earlier writings, 
 admitted to be Shakespeare's, and the later gigantic 
 dramas. And the contrast is so great that critics have 
 often parcelled out the Shakespeare plays among different 
 craftsmen, thinking it impossible that works of so unequal 
 power and merit can all proceed from the same hand. And 
 yet, in truth, it is not unusual for the greatest masters in 
 any art to begin their own creative course by crude imita- 
 tions of their predecessors. For instance, the earlier 
 compositions of Beethoven, beautiful as they are, are not 
 imitations indeed, but compositions in which the influence 
 of Mozart and Haydn are predominant. The almost 
 measureless chasm between the Nel cor pin variations, or 
 the two easy sonatas in Opus 49, and the tremendous 
 choral symphony, or the Titanic sonatas of the third 
 period, is even greater than that between the immaturity 
 of Edw. II. or I Hen. VI. and the mystic grandeur of 
 Hamlet and Lear. Every great artist must emancipate 
 himself from servile imitation of his predecessors before he 
 can enter upon the franchise of his original genius. The 
 sublimest intellect must at one time write pothooks and 
 scribble copy-book platitudes. In Shakespeare's latest 
 efforts he not only surpassed all other poets, he surpassed 
 himself by a seemingly impassable gulf. 
 
 With these precedents and this canon of judgment in
 
 RIVALRY BETWEEN TWO PLAYS. 485 
 
 view, it is not difficult to admit that in some respects the 
 drama of Edw. II. has been overpraised, and its Shake- 
 spearean eminence overstated. It has been said, for 
 instance, that Edw. II. is equal or even superior to 
 Rich. II., which it most resembles, and superior in merit 
 to the general level of the Hen. VI. plays. Now, while I 
 am willing to admit that, in general scenic effect, in the 
 management of dialogue, in discrimination of character, in 
 the use of blank verse, it may hold its own with any of the 
 historical plays, it seems to me decidedly inferior to all of 
 them (except perhaps i Hen. VI.), in richness of imagina- 
 tion, in splendour of eloquence, in the freedom and abandon 
 of inexhaustible mental and imaginative wealth, and in 
 general wisdom and sagacity as an embodiment of social, 
 political and psychologic philosophy. There are flashes of 
 all these qualities; but there are no passages in which they 
 are so strong, so sustained, so triumphant, as in the later 
 historic plays. For example, there is nothing in Edw II. 
 comparable to the poetic and patriotic laments of York 
 and Gaunt over the disgraces brought upon their country 
 by thelevity and weakness of theking {Rich. II. II. i. 30-138). 
 The judgment of Charles Lamb, that "the death scene of 
 Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene, 
 ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted," is 
 quoted by all the critics; and it is, on the whole, a just 
 and a discerning criticism. Yet, to my mind, there is 
 nothing in Edw. II. quite so thrilling in its pathetic dignity 
 as the mighty speech in which Richard II. pronounces his 
 own abdication, containing such lines as these: — 
 
 With mine own tears I wash away my bahii; 
 With mine own hands I give away my crown; 
 With mine own tongue deny my sacred state; 
 With mine own breath release all duteous oaths; 
 All pomp and majesty, I do forswear, &c., &c. 
 
 See the whole passage Rich. II. l\ . i. 201 — 318. And 
 in nearly every scene of Rich. II. there are passages 
 of exuberant poetic meditation not to be matched in 
 Edw. II. There is a lavish eloquence in a crowd of
 
 486 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 speeches in Rich. II. only faintly adumbrated in Edw. II., 
 speeches which one may almost pick out at random by 
 selecting those which contain over twenty or thirty line?. 
 There are not many such speeches in Edw. II. In the 
 whole play there are only eight speeches of more than 20 
 lines in length, and only two of 33 lines each, and these 
 two follow one another, and with a shorter intermediate 
 speech may be taken as one of 75 lines (V. i. 5 — •^3). If 
 we add together all the speeches through the whole play, 
 which contain ten lines or more, they only amount to 
 just under 500 lines, whilst the 3rd Act of Rich. II., 
 which is equal to about a quarter of Edw. II. {i.e., 675 
 lines, against 2,606), alone contains 342 such lines. As 
 a test, this is doubtless too mechanical to be in itself 
 sufficient; but it really does put in visible and numerical 
 shape the fact that Edw. II. lacks the luxuriance of 
 imaginative musing that belongs so abundantly to Rich. II. 
 Its dialogue is vivid and interesting, without being 
 rhetorical or philosophical; the speeches are short, there 
 is little monologue, and scarcely any soliloquy; perhaps 
 it is on this account better adapted to scenic representation 
 than Rich. II., which would require much more curtailment 
 before it could be presented on the boards. The generous 
 affluence that seems as though it could not restrain itself, 
 but must pour forth in copious discourse its limitless 
 treasures of thought and fancy and imagery, does not 
 exist in Edw. II. to the same extent as in nearly all the 
 subsequent Shakespearean plays and poems. The musing 
 soliloquy of Richard in Pomfret Castle (V. v. i — 65) is 
 twice as long as the longest speech in Edw. II. And 
 yet, in admitting this, I do not feel that any shadow of 
 doubt is cast upon its genuine Shakespearean origin. It 
 is the early production of a strong, but untutored, mind, 
 full of large promise; but the master is not yet conscious 
 of his powers. The play is tentative, sketchy, fragmentary. 
 No one but the poet of Rich. II. could have written it; but 
 such a poet, in collecting his works, would be likely to
 
 SHAKESPEARE NOT YET FULLY GROWN. 487 
 
 cast it aside after the mightier achievements of riper years 
 had made its deficiencies too conspicuous. Here the poet 
 is fettered; he has not quite escaped from the sphere of 
 Tamburlaine and the Jew of Malta; he is evidently trying 
 to abandon their crudities, and emancipate himself from 
 their bombast and extravagance, and the effort to do so 
 makes him at times somewhat tame. For, as Mr. C. 
 Knight — for his own purposes — shows, he cannot quite put 
 aside those tawdry robes; they cling to him still, reappear- 
 ing in detached fragments, a few lines at a time — enough 
 to link his personal identity to that manifested in the 
 earlier plays, but enough, also, to show that he was 
 approaching a new era, and was about to develop another 
 type of art. 
 
 One of the indications that the poet of Edw. II. (i.e., 
 Bacon) had not attained his poetic majority, is the absence 
 of those legalisms which afterwards became so abundant 
 and characteristic. The poet of Tamburlaine is still 
 cloistered in his etherial Parnassus ; he has not come com- 
 pletely into contact, as a poet, with the ordinary life 
 around him ; the pursuits and interests of his own life have 
 not yet been drawn into the poetic sphere of his activity, 
 so as to manifest themselves in the creations of his art. 
 
 I find it difficult to understand how any reasonable and 
 candid student can resist the force of the arguments now 
 produced to prove identity of authorship for Marlowe's 
 Edw. II., and the Shakespeare plays. The argument is, I 
 submit, definite, restricted, textual ; and it is no answer to 
 say that the same results might be obtained if a similar 
 analysis were employed for any other Elizabethan play. 
 This is certainly not the case. Any one who brings 
 forward this objection is bound to substantiate it in detail, 
 and not content himself with vague generalities. There is, 
 however, little chance that the argument for Edw. II. can 
 be thus discredited. For it is already admitted that the 
 play has an exceptional position, and in making the claim 
 for it which I have now presented, nothing more is really
 
 488 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES IN BACONIAN LIGHT. 
 
 attempted than to give an intelligible interpretation and 
 explanation of the doubts, difficulties, and speculations 
 which it has already started, and to suggest a solution 
 which would probably have been adopted long ago, if 
 these not very recondite facts had been allowed to speak 
 for themselves. This they can never do while the current 
 unrevised theory of the authorship of Shakespeare is not 
 only allowed to pass unchallenged, but is raised to an 
 unassailable eminence which no one may dispute without 
 manifold pains and penalties. The Baconian theory alone 
 gives a clear and comprehensive explanation of the many 
 anomalies connected with the publication and the interior 
 characteristics of all these poems, and in this respect it 
 holds the field without a rival. 
 
 It is a small demand that we make on Elizabethan 
 students that they should use the Baconian theory as a 
 working hypothesis to unlock all these mysteries and reduce 
 the chaos of their criticism to law and order. This is the 
 recognised method of scientific investigation and discovery. 
 If this explanation does not fit the phenomena, let it be 
 abandoned. But if it throws light upon dark places ; if it 
 solves difficult problems which, resist all other methods of 
 solution ; if it harmonises contradictory and perplexing 
 facts ; if it supersedes strained arguments, and fantastic 
 guesses or speculations, and weeds out all the pcrhapses 
 which inflated Shakespearian biography, and despairing 
 Shakespearian criticism, so urgently require, and so 
 copiously employ ; if it connects these marvellous creations 
 of genius with the best culture of their own time, instead 
 of leaving them detached, in solitary miraculous isolation, 
 to be worshipped blindly, like the image which fell from 
 Jupiter, — then let it be welcomed as it deserves, and let 
 the fruitful field of criticism, illustration, and illumination 
 which it opens be diligently explored and faithfully 
 cultivated.
 
 INDEX I. 
 
 Shakespeare Quotations. 
 
 Airs Well. 
 
 Aot 
 I 
 
 III 
 
 IV 
 
 sc. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 1. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 V. 
 
 i. 
 
 iii. 
 
 V. 
 
 iv. 
 
 V. 
 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 line 
 12 
 
 15 
 
 46 
 
 48 
 
 96 
 
 239 
 
 15 
 
 41 
 
 67 
 
 97 
 
 158 
 
 207 
 
 232 
 
 238 
 
 5 
 
 15 
 58 
 91 
 145 
 152 
 180 
 192 
 
 10 
 7 
 
 35 
 173 
 
 189 
 
 296 
 30 
 17 
 10 
 58 
 35 
 63 
 34 
 57 
 73 
 
 305 
 
 page 
 ... 183 
 ... 108 
 ... 372 
 ... 283 
 ... 193 
 ... 183 
 ... 250 
 ... 350 
 ... 304 
 ... 115 
 ... 445 
 ... 152 
 ... 324 
 ... 376 
 ... 363 
 ... 336 
 ... 315 
 ... 395 
 ... 346 
 ... 84 
 ... 103 
 ... 183 
 ... 183 
 ... 312 
 ... 317 
 ... 448 
 ... 86 
 ... 355 
 ... 411 
 ... 3.50 
 ... 397 
 ... 250 
 ... 437 
 ... 251 
 ... 220 
 282 
 ."."." 357 
 ... 263 
 ... 34« 
 ... .305 
 ... 346 
 ... 352 
 
 Antony and 
 Cleopatra 
 
 I. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 
 1 .. 
 
 (i .. 
 
 42 .. 
 
 56 .. 
 
 137 .. 
 
 45 .. 
 
 63 .. 
 •>■> 
 
 36 '.'. 
 
 1)0 
 398 
 2211 
 220 
 304 
 391 
 301 
 328 
 465 
 
 Antony and 
 Cleopatra — contd. 
 
 Act 
 
 sc 
 
 1 
 
 iv. 
 
 
 V. 
 
 II 
 
 ii. 
 
 ,, 
 
 V. 
 
 t1 
 
 vi. 
 
 ,, 
 
 vii 
 
 »' 
 
 vii. 
 
 
 \ii 
 
 Iii 
 
 i 
 
 « 
 
 V 
 
 n 
 
 vii 
 
 i» 
 
 vii 
 
 i» 
 
 X. 
 
 ,, 
 
 xi 
 
 ,, 
 
 xii 
 
 )» 
 
 xiii 
 
 ,, 
 
 xiii 
 
 IV 
 
 iii 
 
 Ii 
 
 xii 
 
 
 xiv. 
 
 ,, 
 
 xiv 
 
 V 
 
 i 
 
 11 
 
 ii 
 
 ,, 
 
 ii 
 
 ,, 
 
 ii 
 
 ,. 
 
 ii 
 
 ,j 
 
 ii 
 
 „ 
 
 ii 
 
 39 
 
 line 
 41 . 
 10 
 
 3 
 
 43 
 
 102 
 
 1 
 29 
 83 
 11 
 
 4 
 42 
 
 2'i 
 
 145 
 
 12 
 
 31 
 
 153 
 
 2 
 
 4 
 
 ... 3 
 
 62 
 
 1 
 
 27 
 82 
 172 
 2(111 
 216 
 3U6 
 
 page 
 .. 304 
 .. 412 
 .. 22(1 
 .. 212 
 ,.. 185 
 ... 390 
 .. 311 
 ,.. 317 
 ... 226 
 ... 410 
 ... 77 
 ... 348 
 ... 220 
 ... 237 
 ... 317 
 ... 190 
 ... 47 
 ... 346 
 ... 55 
 U bis. 
 ... 352 
 ... 3.58 
 ... 275 
 ... 208 
 ... 271 
 ... 375 
 ... 263 
 ... 377 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 U 
 
 111 
 
 1. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 i V. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 i V. 
 
 V. 
 
 vi. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 21 
 
 5 
 
 44 
 
 9 
 
 11 
 
 26-tiO 
 44 
 68 
 94 
 21 
 
 41-(il 
 
 18 
 
 42 
 
 75 
 
 1(»S 
 
 13; 
 
 ;i 
 
 611 
 
 69 
 137 
 201 
 24U 
 
 358 
 217 
 190 
 103 
 2()l) 
 15(1 
 241 
 
 69 
 3.36 
 380 
 113 
 205 
 177 
 447 
 111 
 
 71 
 317 
 175 
 2(12 
 388 
 350 
 
 9(1 
 467 
 
 As Yott Like It — 
 contd. 
 
 Act 
 III 
 
 IV 
 
 sc. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iv. 
 
 V. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 i V. 
 iv. 
 
 IV. 
 
 line 
 
 392 
 420 
 
 "7 
 29 
 16 
 54 
 32 
 145 
 211 
 16 
 35 
 ti5 
 
 111 
 
 143 
 
 page 
 
 .. 151 
 
 .. 151 
 
 .. 2(j8 
 
 .. 323 
 
 .. 254 
 
 .. 325 
 
 .. 296 
 
 .. 279 
 
 .. 203 
 
 .. 324 
 
 .. 312 
 
 .. KiO 
 
 .. 205 
 
 .. 113 
 
 .. 84 
 
 Comedy of Errors, 
 
 II 
 
 III 
 
 1. 
 i. 
 i. 
 i. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 i. 
 i. 
 
 ji, 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 32 
 
 63 
 67 
 91 
 28 
 173 
 175 
 
 53 
 44 
 53 
 
 J8 
 
 24 
 
 48 
 
 55 
 
 115 
 
 1()7 
 
 241 
 
 270 
 
 1 
 
 Coriolanus. 
 
 II 
 
 .1. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 iii. 
 iv. 
 ix. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 215 
 
 267 
 
 275 
 
 94 
 
 39 
 
 24 
 
 161 
 
 247 
 
 121 
 
 128 
 17 
 42 
 43 
 
 237 
 
 .302 
 374 
 302 
 469 
 277 
 351 
 301 
 63 
 451 
 380 
 451 
 116 
 192 
 438 
 162 
 270 
 146 
 388 
 442 
 
 358 
 226 
 312 
 405 
 237 
 234 
 115 
 115 
 319 
 .3.56 
 18(1 
 374 
 442 
 346 
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 Act sc. 
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 IV 
 
 II 
 
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 Henry IV. 
 221 ... 
 
 11 
 
 11. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
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 2 Henry IV. 
 
 Induction 
 
 II 
 
 1. 
 
 i. 
 
 i.' 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 i I. 
 
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 2 Henry IV. — contd. 
 
 Act 
 
 II 
 
 III 
 
 IV 
 
 It 
 
 III 
 
 IV 
 
 sc. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iv. 
 
 i V. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
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 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iv. 
 
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 Henry V.— contd. 
 
 Act 
 IV 
 
 fC. 
 
 iii. 
 
 V. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 V. 
 
 line 
 
 24 
 
 7 
 
 1 
 
 ii 
 
 41 
 
 14 
 
 35 
 
 61 
 
 63 
 
 87 
 
 11 
 
 page 
 
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 Henry VI. 
 35 ... 
 
 II 
 
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 IV 
 
 1. 
 iii. 
 vi. 
 
 i. 
 iv. 
 
 V. 
 
 i. 
 iii. 
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 v. 
 
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 120 
 
 107 
 
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 9 ... 
 
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 31 ... 
 
 47 ... 
 
 53 ... 
 
 83 ... 
 
 127-140 ... 
 
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 282 
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 ii. 
 
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 iii. 
 iii. 
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 16 
 
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 158 
 
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 228 
 
 282 
 
 310 
 
 313 
 
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 472 
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 326 
 207 
 206 
 232 
 450 
 326 
 232 
 235 
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 467 
 443 
 236 
 442 
 445
 
 SHAKESPEARE QUOTATIONS. 
 
 491 
 
 2 Henry VI. — contd. 
 
 Act sc. 
 
 III Hi. 
 
 IV i. 
 
 ii. 
 „ vii. 
 „ vii. 
 „ vii. 
 „ vii. 
 
 vii. 
 ,, vii. 
 
 vii. 
 
 viii. 
 ,, ix. 
 
 X. 
 
 V. i. 
 
 i- 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 
 line 
 
 83 
 
 11 
 
 120 
 
 182 
 
 1011 
 
 63-110 
 
 77 
 
 «2 
 87 
 90 
 
 110 
 
 57 
 
 8 
 
 61 
 
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 175 
 41 
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 3 Rmrij VI. 
 
 H 
 
 III 
 
 IV 
 
 ]. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 V. 
 
 vi. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iv. 
 
 vi. 
 
 vii. 
 
 vii. 
 
 viii. 
 
 viii. 
 
 viii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 i V. 
 
 \ i. 
 
 vi. 
 
 vi. 
 
 vi. 
 
 1 ... 
 
 60 ... 
 95 ... 
 
 180 ... 
 
 239 ... 
 
 242 ... 
 
 271 ... 
 
 61 ... 
 
 14 ... 
 
 28 ... 
 133 ... 
 
 1 ... 
 
 60 '". 
 
 91 ... 
 
 120 ... 
 
 127 ... 
 
 32 ... 
 
 29 ... 
 
 187 ... 
 
 188 ... 
 192 ... 
 232 ... 
 
 15 ... 
 
 17 ... 
 
 18 ... 
 
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 13 ... 
 56 ... 
 
 7 ... 
 
 67 ... 
 
 28 ... 
 
 48 ... 
 
 49 ... 
 36 ... 
 83 ... 
 
 11 ... 
 
 12 ... 
 
 14 ... 
 
 13 ... 
 39-49 ... 
 
 10 ... 
 
 29 ... 
 49 ... 
 
 61 ... 
 
 476 
 450 
 4.53 
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 401 
 450 
 463 
 375 
 461 
 406 
 451 
 476 
 462 
 448 
 56 
 456 
 439 
 311 
 235 
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 447 
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 219 
 459 
 215 
 455 
 105 
 221 
 4.55 
 219 
 463 
 230 
 441 
 4.52 
 401 
 448 
 444 
 467 
 276 
 28(! 
 401 
 46(i 
 364 
 459 
 
 Hennj VIII. 
 
 I i. 63 ... 417 
 
 i. 100 ... 207 
 
 ii. 122 ... 112 
 
 Henr 
 
 Act 
 H 
 
 III 
 
 IV 
 V 
 
 I 
 li 
 
 III 
 
 IV 
 
 y VIII— contd. 
 
 line page 
 35 ... 219 
 42 ... 317 
 84 ... 219 
 94 ... 456 
 
 116 ... 112 
 
 145 
 22 
 
 353 
 
 361 
 
 sc. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 li. 
 ii. 
 
 i. 
 ii. 
 v. 
 
 V. 
 
 29 
 73 
 
 John. 
 
 1. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 i\\ 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 
 189 
 207 
 
 60 
 
 70 
 101 
 177 
 223 
 2S1 
 305 
 463 
 
 81 
 574 
 577 
 
 51 
 
 147 
 
 258 
 
 2 
 
 38 
 
 48 
 
 79 
 
 135 
 
 137 
 
 126 
 
 9 
 
 18 
 174 
 143 
 185 
 203 
 45 
 1.54 
 46 
 
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 60 
 
 74 
 
 185 
 244 
 108 
 239 
 440 
 103 
 379 
 
 156 ... 4.50 
 
 64 ... 3 SO 
 
 31 ... 465 
 
 40 ... 83 
 
 437 
 175 
 353 
 447 
 333 
 371 
 3,53 
 329 
 347 
 2.32 
 330 
 277 
 277 
 189 
 3 SO 
 464 
 337 
 450 
 218 
 411 
 45 
 468 
 219 
 253 
 258 
 445 
 (i5 
 65 
 467 
 234 
 360 
 111 
 118 
 118 
 181 
 376 
 3t!4 
 193 
 
 Julius CcBsar. 
 
 1. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 3 
 52-70 
 ■ 67 
 212 
 246 
 299 
 312 
 
 6 
 
 12 
 
 11 
 
 93 
 
 118 
 
 316 
 295 
 120 
 219 
 455 
 114 
 120 
 239 
 410 
 ,302 
 309 
 400 
 356 
 
 Julius Ccpsir — 
 contd. 
 
 Act 
 
 II 
 
 III 
 
 IV 
 
 II 
 
 III 
 
 EC. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 li. 
 
 i. 
 
 iii. 
 
 lii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 iii. 
 
 V. 
 
 line 
 •>2 
 
 84 
 
 144 
 
 16(i 
 
 171 
 
 224 
 
 241 
 
 289 
 
 323 
 
 33 
 
 66 
 
 8 
 
 63 
 
 159 
 
 204 
 
 205 
 
 29 
 
 138 
 
 29 
 
 21 
 
 46 
 
 73 
 145 
 
 27 
 101 
 104 
 
 65 
 
 80 
 
 IV 
 
 1. 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 
 V. 
 
 vi. 
 
 vi. 
 vi. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Lear. 
 
 155 
 
 189 
 
 2 
 
 6 
 24 
 
 181 
 
 1 
 
 10-47 
 
 35 
 
 242 
 
 275 
 
 302 
 
 307 
 
 82 
 
 59 
 
 79 
 
 172 
 
 72 
 
 115 
 
 188 
 
 23 
 
 1(1 
 
 54 
 
 14 
 
 108 
 
 113 
 
 21 
 
 84 
 
 109 
 
 115 
 
 9 
 
 16 
 
 58 
 
 .59 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 40 
 
 46 
 
 page 
 
 ... 459 
 
 ... 394 
 
 ... 445 
 
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 ... 206 
 
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 ... 207 
 
 ... 403 
 
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 .. .391 
 
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 .. 395 
 
 .. 237 
 
 .. 409 
 
 .. 98 
 
 .. 476 
 
 .. 340 
 
 .. 262 
 
 Lear — contd. 
 
 Act 
 IV 
 
 sc. 
 iii. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 vi. 
 vi. 
 vi. 
 vi. 
 \i. 
 vii. 
 vii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 line 
 45 
 27 
 
 131 
 
 148 
 
 178 
 
 lt)8 
 
 286 
 
 5 
 
 65 
 
 22 
 
 119 
 
 page 
 
 .. 325 
 
 .. 239 
 
 .. 440 
 
 .. 175 
 
 .. 260 
 
 .. 299 
 
 .. 360 
 
 .. 371 
 
 .. 98 
 
 .. 383 
 
 .. 452 
 
 .. 312 
 
 11 
 
 lit 
 
 IV 
 
 ve' 
 
 s Labour's 
 
 
 Lost. 
 
 
 i. 
 i. 
 
 13 .. 
 
 . 319 
 
 . 457 
 
 i. 
 
 I(i0 .. 
 
 . 460 
 
 ii. 
 
 14 .. 
 
 . 331 
 
 ii. 
 
 
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 ii. 
 
 29 .'.' 
 
 . 372 
 
 ii. 
 
 42 .. 
 
 . 279 
 
 ii. 
 
 67 .. 
 
 . 73 
 
 ii. 
 
 93 .. 
 
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 ii. 
 
 120 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 5 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 9 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 13 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 223 
 
 277 
 
 i. 
 
 231 '.'. 
 
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 i. 
 
 5 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 65 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 71-83 .. 
 
 . 402 
 
 i. 
 
 9-35 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 20 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 30 .. 
 
 . 282 
 
 i. 
 
 65 .. 
 
 . 3.59 
 
 i. 
 
 66 .. 
 
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 i. 
 
 67 .. 
 
 . 365 
 
 i. 
 
 90 .. 
 
 229 
 
 ii. 
 
 68 .. 
 
 273 
 
 ii. 
 
 119 .. 
 
 4,50 
 
 ii. 
 
 128 .. 
 
 381 
 
 ii. 
 
 142 .. 
 
 406 
 
 iii. 
 
 123 .. 
 
 73 
 
 iii. 
 
 163 .. 
 
 147 
 
 iii. 
 
 239 .. 
 
 274 
 
 i. 
 
 14 .. 
 
 386 
 
 i. 
 
 117 .. 
 
 383 
 
 i. 
 
 128 .. 
 
 359 
 
 i. 
 
 161 .. 
 
 438 
 
 ii. 
 
 207 .. 
 
 205 
 
 ii. 
 
 493 .. 
 
 278 
 
 ii. 
 
 765 .. 
 
 148 
 
 ii. 
 
 773 .. 
 
 117 
 
 ii. 
 
 77(i .. 
 
 121 
 
 ii. 
 
 780 .. 
 
 148 
 
 ii. 
 
 848 .. 
 
 272 
 
 ii. 
 
 853 .. 
 
 399 
 
 ii. 
 
 871 .. 
 
 2(i6 
 
 ii. 
 
 883 ... 
 
 443 
 
 ii. 
 
 905 .. 
 
 384 
 
 ii. 
 
 
 449 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 21 ... 
 
 428 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 39 ... 
 
 58 
 428 
 
 iii. 
 
 58 ".'.". 
 
 249 
 
 iii. 
 
 76-85 .. 
 
 428 
 
 iii. 
 
 117-121 .. 
 
 428
 
 492 
 
 SHAKESPEARE QUOTATIONS. 
 
 Macbeth— con 
 
 Id. 
 
 Measure for \ 
 
 Merchant of Venice 
 
 Much Ado About 
 
 Act 
 
 so 
 
 lino 
 
 pa^P 
 
 Measure 
 
 — contd. 
 
 — contd. 
 
 Nothing- 
 
 - contd. 
 
 I 
 
 iii. 
 
 12(1 .. 
 
 . 472 
 
 -Act sc. 
 
 line pa^e 
 
 Act sc. line page 
 
 Act sc. 
 
 line page 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 124 . 
 
 . 331 
 
 Ill i. 
 
 95 ... 117 
 
 V i. 63 ... 298 
 
 IV i. 
 
 3 ... 324 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 11 . 
 
 . 184 
 
 i. 
 
 114 ... 386 
 
 i. 205 ... 411 
 
 11 i. 
 
 94 ... 345 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 .50 . 
 
 . 237 
 
 „ i. 
 
 118 ... .349 
 
 
 i. 
 
 283 ... 361 
 
 
 vii. 
 
 2 .. 
 
 . 331 
 
 i. 
 
 124 ... 341 
 
 Merry Wives of 
 
 i V. 
 
 3S ... 160 
 
 
 vii. 
 
 44 . 
 
 . 205 
 
 i. 
 
 126 ... 363 
 
 Windsor. 
 
 i V. 
 
 70 ... 88 
 
 
 vii. 
 
 63 .. 
 
 . 337 
 
 ., i. 
 
 l(i7 ... 102 
 
 
 
 
 
 vii. 
 
 81 . 
 
 . 121 
 
 ii. 
 
 107 ... 281 
 
 I i. 9 ... 382 
 
 Othello. 
 
 ii 
 
 vii. 
 
 i. 
 
 82 .. 
 47 . 
 
 . 185 
 . 37(1 
 
 ii. 
 i j 
 
 1119 ... 3,54 
 285 ... 185 
 
 i. 298 ... 56 
 iii. 70 ... 177 
 
 I i. 
 
 61 ... 328 
 
 
 i. 
 
 5(i . 
 
 . 405 
 
 IV i 
 
 28 ... .325 
 
 iii. 109 ... 362 
 
 ,. i. 
 
 137 ... 3,55 
 
 
 i. 
 
 5(i-63 . 
 
 . 428 
 
 ii. 
 
 24 ... .329 
 
 11 i. 119 ... .388 
 
 ii. 
 
 12 ... 349 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 1-16 . 
 
 . 428 
 
 i 
 
 46 ... 116 
 
 i. 195 ... 2()(1 
 
 ii. 
 
 22 ... .342 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 38 . 
 
 . 186 
 
 ii 
 
 91 ... 4r-' 
 
 i. 233 ... 61 
 
 ii. 
 
 26 ... 326 
 
 
 ii. 
 iii. 
 
 (i2 . 
 116 . 
 
 . 362 
 . 35,3 
 
 iii, 
 lii. 
 
 132 ... 374 
 152 ... 390 
 
 ii. 21 ... 331 
 ii. 223 ... 227 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 40 ... 406 
 72 ... 316 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 3 . 
 
 . 457 
 
 VI. 
 
 14 ... 358 
 
 ii. 29J ... 321 
 
 ii. 
 
 90 ... 406 
 
 lii 
 
 i. 
 
 14 . 
 
 . 407 
 
 V i. 
 
 59 ... 365 
 
 ii. 314 ... 402 
 
 iii. 
 
 1 ... 328 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 12 . 
 
 . 467 
 
 j^ 
 
 (lO ... 299 
 
 iv. 53 ... .339 
 
 iii. 
 
 1.36 ... 360 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 13-26 . 
 
 . 428 
 
 i 
 
 93 ... 397 
 
 iv. End ... 171 
 
 iii. 
 
 140 ... 322 
 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 16 . 
 
 27 . 
 
 93-1(17 . 
 
 . 259 
 . 123 
 
 . 428 
 
 11 '• 
 
 i. 
 
 11 i. 
 ,. i. 
 
 232 '". 331 
 
 3S7 ... 321 
 394 ... 397 
 
 V V. 241 ... 3,50 
 Midsummer Night's 
 
 ,. iii. 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 1.54 ... 376 
 202 ... 283 
 206 ... 315 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 95 . 
 
 . 4')8 
 
 „ i. 
 
 535 ... 359 
 
 Dream. 
 
 iii. 
 
 222 ... 3.57 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 V. 
 
 1(15 . 
 23 . 
 
 . 276 
 . 215 
 
 Merchant 
 
 of Venice. 
 
 I i. 120 ... 3.54 
 
 ,. iii. 
 iii. 
 
 237 ... 3.52 
 266 ... 142 
 
 
 V. 
 
 2li . 
 
 . 1(13 
 
 
 „ ii. 83 ... ,322 
 
 iii. 
 
 271 ... 408 
 
 
 vi. 
 
 10 . 
 
 . 355 
 
 I i. 
 
 20 ... 281 
 
 ii. 229 ... 164 
 
 iii. 
 
 274 ... 365 
 
 IV 
 
 i. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 113 . 
 
 5() . 
 70 
 
 . 461 
 . 268 
 . 312 
 
 ., i. 
 i- 
 i- 
 
 28 ... 443 
 
 97 ... 281 
 
 123 ... 391 
 
 II i. 92 ... 331 
 i. 137 ... 437 
 i. 138 ... 316 
 
 iii. 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 299 ... 142 
 323 ... 348 
 330 ... .392 
 
 11 
 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 2-8 . 
 ,54 . 
 55 . 
 63 . 
 
 .. 428 
 .. 331 
 .. 234 
 .. 335 
 
 i. 
 i. 
 ). 
 
 11 i. 
 
 1,55 ... 281 
 176 ... 281 
 
 •>«ij 
 11 '•' -'"- 
 
 184 ... 281 
 
 i. 199 ... 451 
 
 i. 235 ... 451 
 
 i. 2.55 ... 2,32 
 
 ii. 120 . 252 
 
 ,. iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 333 ... 2(50 
 335 ... 402 
 339 ... 386 
 342 ... 386 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 81 . 
 
 .. 171 
 
 „ ii. 
 
 42 ... 303 
 
 ii. 137 ... 242 
 
 iii. 
 
 362 ... 3,50 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 89 . 
 
 .. ,391 
 
 i'. 
 
 79 ... Ill 
 
 ii. 203 ... 322 
 
 iii. 
 
 369 ... .343 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 142 . 
 
 .. ,3,38 
 
 1, ii. 
 
 110 ... 407 
 
 III i. 146 ... 149 
 
 II i. 
 
 10 ... 404 
 
 
 iii. 
 ii i. 
 
 1.52 . 
 
 ., 310 
 
 .. 378 
 
 „ iii. 
 iii. 
 
 95 ... 58 
 248 
 
 ii. 1 ... 4i6 
 ii. 31 ... 412 
 
 11 i. 
 
 229 ... 320 
 234 ... 3.36 
 
 v 
 
 iii. 
 
 iv. 
 
 viii. 
 
 226 '. 
 19 
 13 . 
 
 .. .342 
 .. 1(12 
 .. 311 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 11 ii. 
 
 133 ... 248 
 137 ... 311 
 
 2 .. 460 
 
 ii. 12(1 ... 392 
 ii. 175 ... 449 
 ii. 177 ... 245 
 
 ii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 Ill iii. 
 
 3 ... 378 
 218 ... 385 
 122 ... .341 
 
 
 viii. 
 viii. 
 
 18-28 . 
 23 . 
 
 .. 428 
 .. 440 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 146 ... 360 
 199 ... 114 
 
 ii. 203 ... 322 
 ii. 2,57 ... 160 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 1,57 ... 271 
 173 ... .3,57 
 
 
 
 
 
 11. 
 
 205 ... 383 
 
 ii. 279 ... 2nl 
 
 ,. iii. 
 
 182 ... ,3,54 
 
 
 Mca 
 
 sure fen 
 asure. 
 
 ■ 
 
 ii. 
 
 209 ... 114 
 
 V i. 12 ... 68 
 
 iii. 
 
 221 ... 410 
 
 
 Me 
 
 
 1, vi. 
 vi. 
 
 7 ... 381 
 3-19 ... 194 
 
 i. 128 ... 84 
 i. 209 ... 380 
 
 iii- 
 
 ,. iii. 
 
 319 ... 319 
 32(i ... 320 
 
 I 
 
 i. 
 
 34 
 
 .. 303 
 
 11 vi. 
 
 195 
 
 i. 374 ... 264 
 
 iii. 
 
 365 ... 394 
 
 
 i. 
 
 54 
 
 .. 392 
 
 „ vi. 
 
 8 ... 282 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 449 ... 240 
 
 
 i. 
 
 62 
 
 .. 443 
 
 vi. 
 
 36 ... 149 
 
 Much Ado About 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 453 ... 441 
 
 
 i. 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 65 
 
 m 
 
 10 
 
 .. 402 
 .. 263 
 .. 467 
 
 11 viii. 
 1, viii. 
 „ ix. 
 
 44 ... 383 
 46 ... 405 
 26 ... 22 
 
 Nothing. 
 I i. 20 ... 379 
 
 iv. 
 
 iv. 
 
 IV ii. 
 
 113 ... 382 
 119 ... 116 
 111 ... .59 
 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 169 
 
 1» 
 
 .. ,59 
 .. 439 
 
 ix. 
 ix. 
 
 29 ... 3 -'5 
 86 ... 406 
 
 i. 130 ... 388 
 i. 247 ... 357 
 
 iii. 
 iii 
 
 72 ... 3,52 
 End ... 314 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 1 
 
 .. 146 
 
 II i. 
 
 3 ... 450 
 
 II i. 15 ... 2(!0 
 
 ,, III. 
 
 
 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 
 4(1 
 46 
 
 .. 361 
 .. 3S9 
 
 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 67 ... 161 
 KG 
 
 i. 77 .. 451 
 i. 374 ... 310 
 
 Pericles. 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 .30 
 
 .. 272 
 
 ., ii. 
 
 101 ... 447 
 
 „ iii. 7 . 147 
 
 I ii, 
 
 7 ... 208 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 76 
 
 .. 184 
 
 „ ii. 
 
 111 ... 150 
 
 iii. 23 ... ,58 
 
 ., ii. 
 
 123 ... 338 
 
 
 V. 
 
 .39 
 
 .. 221 
 
 ii. 
 
 1,30 ... 331 
 
 iii. 48 ... 117 
 
 ,1 iv. 
 
 1 ... 70 
 
 ii 
 
 i. 
 
 27 
 
 .. 354 
 
 ii. 
 
 226 ... 310 
 
 iii. 1.52 ... 44 
 
 „ iv. 
 
 83 ... 3.32 
 
 
 i. 
 
 288 
 
 ... 4,57 
 
 ii. 
 
 282 ... 391 
 
 iii. 2,58 ... 203 
 
 II ii. 
 
 ,56 ... 112 
 
 
 i. 
 
 End 
 
 ... 246 
 
 iv. 
 
 11 ... 336 
 
 III iii. 3 ... 443 
 
 ii. 
 
 315 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 12 
 
 ... 313 
 
 iv. 
 
 32 „. 3111 
 
 iii. 15 ... 1911 
 
 IV i. 
 
 220 ... .304 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 75 
 
 ... 234 
 
 iv. 
 
 74 „. 27i; 
 
 IV i. 146 ... 85 
 
 iii. 
 
 1-21 ... 467 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 90 
 
 ... 439 
 
 IV i. 
 
 75 ,„ 244 
 
 i. 2(16 ... 3.S3 
 
 iv. 
 
 21 ... 264 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 134 
 
 ... 241 
 
 i. 
 
 18(1 ... 276 
 
 i. 22(1 ... 304 
 
 V i. 
 
 93 ... .325 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 12 
 
 ... 112 
 
 V i. 
 
 1 ... 244 
 
 i. 226 ... 112 
 
 i- 
 
 153 ... 231 
 
 III 
 
 i. 
 
 2 
 
 ... 1(J5 
 
 i. 
 
 55 ... 244 
 
 i 269 
 
 i- 
 
 251 ... 322
 
 SHAKESPEARE QUOTATIONS. 
 
 493 
 
 Richard II. 
 
 
 K ichard III. — contd. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet 
 
 Tlmon 
 
 of Athens — 
 
 Act sc. 
 
 line 
 
 page 
 
 Act sc. 
 
 line page 
 
 ■ — contd. 
 
 
 contd. 
 
 I i. 
 
 43 . 
 61 . 
 
 . .321 
 .1— .» 
 
 I li. 
 
 150 ... 236 
 228 ... 135 
 
 Act sc. line pase 
 
 .\ct so. 
 
 line page 
 
 i- 
 
 . iii 
 
 ii. 
 
 V iii. 15 ... 469 
 
 Ill V. 
 
 42 ... 399 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 ,. iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 67 . 
 150 . 
 156 . 
 234 . 
 236 . 
 
 . 256 
 . 346 
 . 378 
 . 385 
 . 242 
 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 iii. 
 „ iii. 
 
 70 ... 57 
 122 ... 271 
 127 ... 3.56 
 143 ... 323 
 207 ... 316 
 
 Tamiyig of the 
 
 Shrew. 
 
 Indue, i. 100 ... .3,33 
 
 V. 
 
 V. 
 
 IV iii. 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 51 ... 279 
 
 97 ... 221 
 
 22 .„ 405 
 
 112 ... 117 
 
 118 ... 351 
 
 ,. iii. 
 
 241 . 
 
 . 385 
 
 iii. 
 
 2.59 ... 46 
 
 .1 ii. 135 ... 457 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 183 ... 3.38 
 
 iii. 
 
 25H . 
 
 . 284 
 
 iii. 
 
 263 ... 44S 
 
 1 i. 2 ... 456 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 245 ... 316 
 
 iii. 
 
 262-3(13 . 
 
 . 458 
 
 iv. 
 
 150 ... 460 
 
 i. 28 ... 456 
 
 iii. 
 
 345 ... 398 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 304 .. 
 
 . 443 
 
 iv. 
 
 173 ... 450 
 
 i. 31 ... 23(1 
 
 V iv. 
 
 31 ... 339 
 
 iv. 
 
 •) 
 
 . 443 
 
 iv. 
 
 176 ... 466 
 
 i. 207 ... ,391 
 
 
 
 IL i. 
 
 17-23" '.'. 
 
 . 43,S 
 
 iv. 
 
 261 ... 467 
 
 !,' ii! ,30 !." 329 
 
 Titus Andronicus. 
 
 i. 
 
 44 .. 
 
 . 368 
 
 iv. 
 
 27(1 ... 467 
 
 ii. .52 ,.. 221 
 ii. 66 ... 221 
 ii. 70 ... 302 
 ii. 1,33 ... 404 
 ii. 276 ... 335 
 III i. 18 ... 466 
 
 
 
 i. 
 
 62 .. 
 
 . 3iii 
 
 iv. 
 
 283 ... 467 
 
 I i. 
 
 27 ... 319 
 
 .1 '• 
 
 187 .. 
 
 . 233 
 
 II ii. 
 
 3 ... 44 
 
 1. i. 
 
 68 ... 325 
 
 i. 
 
 241-261 .. 
 
 . 478 
 
 ii. 
 
 68 ... 396 
 
 11 i. 
 
 136 ... 307 
 
 1. i- 
 
 241 .. 
 
 . 219 
 
 ii. 
 
 117 ... 2.39 
 
 i. 
 
 178 ... 4.56 
 
 .1 '■ 
 
 25(1 .. 
 
 . 59 
 
 ii. 
 
 459 
 
 i. 
 
 182 ... 384 
 
 i. 
 
 265 .. 
 
 . 4(t3 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 41 ... 64 
 
 ii. 95 ... 89 
 
 IV iv. 1 ... 221 
 
 iv. 65 ... 405 
 
 iv. 95 ... 448 
 
 V i. 131 ... 468 
 
 i. 
 
 185 ... .323 
 
 i. 
 
 .. 
 
 . 457 
 
 iv. 
 
 71 ... 4(i4 
 
 i. 
 
 202 ... 451 
 
 ii. 
 
 6 .. 
 
 . 243 
 
 Ill i. 
 
 79 ... 452 
 
 1. i. 
 
 221 ... 359 
 
 11 ii. 
 
 68 .. 
 
 . 105 
 
 i. 
 
 94 ... 452 
 
 11 i. 
 
 280 ... 210 
 
 ii. 
 
 69 .. 
 
 . 438 
 
 ii. 
 
 28 ... 362 
 
 1. i. 
 
 .366 ... 399 
 
 .1 ii. 
 
 78 .. 
 
 . 103 
 
 iv. 
 
 98 ... 102 
 
 ii. 173 ... 151 
 ii. 176 ... 443 
 
 i. 
 
 379 .. 307 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 123 .. 
 127 .. 
 
 . 477 
 
 . im 
 
 V. 
 
 Aii. 
 
 5 ... 376 
 231 ... 362 
 
 i. 
 II i. 
 
 399 ... 262 
 112 ... 407 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 6 .. 
 
 . 243 
 
 vii. 
 
 244 ... 4i3 
 
 Tempest. 
 
 .1 i. 
 
 120 ... 401 
 
 .1 iii. 
 
 15 .. 
 
 104 
 
 IV i. 
 
 49 ... 2(jl 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 96 ... 464 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 94 .. 
 
 383 
 
 .1 i. 
 
 4^55 
 
 I ii. 13 ... .326 
 
 iii. 
 
 209 ... 327 
 
 iii. 
 
 
 453 
 
 .1 i. 
 
 54 ... 236 
 
 ii. 30 ... 385 
 
 iii. 
 
 262 ... 241 
 
 iii. 
 
 idi .'.' 
 
 326 
 
 .1 i. 
 
 59 ... 364 
 
 „ ii. 125 ... 3.55 
 
 Ill i. 
 
 11 ... 456 
 
 ill. 
 
 103 .. 
 
 453 
 
 i. 
 
 4lil 
 
 ii. 181 ... 369 
 
 1. i. 
 
 16 ... 469 
 
 Ill ii. 
 
 34 .. 
 
 . 4(13 
 
 i. 
 
 79 ... 243 
 
 ii. 247 ... 47 
 
 1. i. 
 
 68 ... 2,53 
 
 ,. ii. 
 
 1,35 .. 
 
 242 
 
 ,1 iv. 
 
 24(5 ... .342 
 
 ii. 351 ... 275 
 
 i. 
 
 233 .„ 206 
 
 ii. 
 
 144 .. 
 
 7(1 
 
 ., iv. 
 
 364 ... 444 
 
 II i. 1-9 ... 70 
 
 ii. 
 
 71 ... 375 
 
 ii. 
 
 155 .. 
 
 70 
 
 iv. 
 
 420 ... 217 
 
 !. 121 ... 317 
 
 IV i. 
 
 78 ... 409 
 
 iii. 
 
 10 .. 
 
 457 
 
 V ii. 
 
 17 ... 205 
 
 i. 137 ... 242 
 
 V ii. 
 
 202 ... 382 
 
 iii. 
 
 
 478 
 
 11 ii. 
 
 23 ... 445 
 
 ii. 62 ... 263 
 
 iii. 
 
 1.33 ... 4.54 
 
 iii. 
 
 1.5 :: 
 
 474 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 26 ... 384 
 
 III i. 37 ... »A 
 
 .1 iii. 
 
 184 ... 441 
 
 iii. 
 
 62 .. 
 
 219 
 
 iii. 
 
 193 ... 2i)5 
 
 i 234 
 
 iii. 
 
 199 ... 2.30 
 
 iii. 
 
 65 .. 
 
 382 
 
 iv. 
 
 7-13 ... 4.56 
 
 i. 83 ... 300 
 
 iii. 
 
 204 ... 401 
 
 ,1 iii. 
 
 68 .. 
 
 219 
 
 „ v. 
 
 35 ... 276 
 
 ii. 94 ... 187 
 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 101 .. 
 
 326 
 
 V. 
 
 393 
 
 iii. 7 ... 108 
 
 Troilus 
 
 <£ Cressida. 
 
 ., iii. 
 
 175 .. 
 
 448 
 
 
 
 iii. 10 ... ,3.58 
 
 
 
 iii. 
 
 176 .. 
 
 255 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 1 
 
 iii. 60 ... 310 
 
 Prologue 
 
 8 ... ,360 
 
 [V i. 
 
 11 i. 
 
 11 .. 
 
 53 .. 
 
 207 
 449 
 
 I i. 
 
 184 ... 1.38 
 
 232 ... 217 
 
 26 ... 373 
 
 97 ... 1(!2 
 
 299 
 
 IV i. 18 ... 323 
 
 i. 114 ... 206 
 
 I i. 
 
 „ ii. 
 
 1 ... 306 
 27 ... 2,59 
 
 i. 
 i. 
 
 " \- 
 i 
 
 200 .. 
 222 
 228 .'.' 
 254 
 
 442 
 455 
 463 
 
 4ii2 
 
 i. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ., iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 i. 122 ... 89 
 i. 139 ... ,338 
 i, 1.53 ... 372 
 i. 16(1 ... 445 
 
 11 ii. 
 
 ii. 
 
 ., iii. 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 114 „. 444 
 
 320 ... 334 
 
 3 ... 102 
 
 7 ... 245 
 
 i. 
 iv. 
 
 316 ".". 
 201-318 .. 
 
 440 
 485 
 
 V. 
 
 11 i. 
 .1 i. 
 
 42 — 254 
 156 ... 315 
 171 ... 217 
 
 V i. 1,53 ... 85 
 i. 246 ... ,3(38 
 
 iii. 
 ,, iii. 
 
 iii. 
 „ iii. 
 11 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 
 9 ... 3,50 
 
 75-137 ... 262 
 
 85 ... 375 
 
 110 ... 382 
 
 119 ... 363 
 
 149 ... 14 
 
 iv. 
 
 V i. 
 
 i. 
 
 308 .. 
 
 29 .. 
 
 46 .. 
 
 71 .. 
 
 1 .. 
 
 43 .. 
 
 57-99 .. 
 
 21 .. 
 
 1-30 .. 
 
 1-65 .. 
 
 31] 
 
 459 
 311 
 477 
 475 
 402 
 247 
 454 
 74 
 486 
 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 ii. 
 
 9 ... 44S 
 92 ... 303 
 
 im ... 244 
 
 Timon of Athens. 
 I i, 20 ... 178 
 
 11 i. 
 
 iii. 
 
 iii. 
 1, iii. 
 
 V. 
 V. 
 V. 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 32 ... 244 
 
 i. 37 .,. 322 
 
 ., iii. 
 
 1,53 ,.. 2(i7 
 
 iii. 
 
 .33 ... 204 
 
 i. 72 ... 402 
 
 1. iii. 
 
 340 ... 410 
 
 iii. 
 
 36 ... 460 
 
 i. 84 ... 46 
 
 .1 iii. 
 
 358-386 ... 215 
 
 ^i. 
 
 9 ... 138 
 
 i. 107 ... 317 
 
 11 iii. 
 
 374 ... 407 
 
 vi. 
 
 11 ... 242 
 
 ii. 139 ... 316 
 
 1. iii. 
 
 380 ... 446 
 
 Ill i. 
 i. 
 
 122 ... 4.54 
 4(i8 
 
 ii. 142 ... 107 
 ii. 145 ... 345 
 
 II ii. 
 
 „ ii. 
 
 16 ... 403 
 49 ... 340 
 
 Ricliard III. 
 
 
 1. i- 
 
 End ... 247 
 
 ii. 211 ... 240 
 
 „ ii. 
 
 61 ... 330 
 
 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 1-4 ... 4.55 
 
 ii 461 
 
 ii. 
 
 115 ... 410 
 
 I i. 
 
 6 .. 
 
 439 
 
 ii. 
 
 45 ... 236 
 
 11 1. 22 ... .357 
 
 „ ii. 
 
 121 ,„ 340 
 
 i. 
 
 9 .. 
 
 439 
 
 ii. 
 
 112 ... 72 
 
 ii. 219 ... 376 
 
 1, ii. 
 
 132 ... 395 
 
 11 ii. 
 
 71 .. 
 
 23(1 
 
 iii. 
 
 1(19 ... 1,39 
 
 ii. 220 ... .3,57 
 
 ii. 
 
 136 ... 395 
 
 11 ii. 
 
 78 .. 
 
 339 
 
 iii. 
 
 122 ... 1,39 
 
 III iv. 81 ... 40(1 
 
 ii. 
 
 142 ... 437 
 
 ii. 
 
 105 .. 
 
 452 
 
 V. 
 
 1 ... 475 
 
 V. 2 ... 247 
 
 .1 ii. 
 
 153 ... 340
 
 494 
 
 SHAKESPEARE QUOTATIONS. 
 
 Troilus & Cressida | 
 
 Two Gentlemen of \ 
 
 Winter's 
 
 Talc— 1 
 
 Lucrece —contd. 
 
 
 — contd. 
 
 Verona - 
 
 -contd. 
 
 contd. 1 
 
 Line 
 
 Pa,?e 
 
 Act 
 
 sc. line raee 
 
 .\ct sc. 
 
 line pane 
 
 Act sc. 
 
 line paRc 
 
 1()53 
 1686 
 1702 
 1709 
 1714 
 1807 
 1830 
 1842 
 18.54 
 
 ,52 
 
 246 
 
 50 
 
 .53 
 
 52 
 
 ... 113 
 
 314 
 
 44 
 
 390 
 
 11 
 
 ii. 108 ... 350 
 
 I iii. 
 
 (W ... 301 
 
 „ i. 
 
 151 ... 440 
 
 
 ii. 100 ... 305 
 iii. 74 ... 4() 
 iii. 107 ... 357 
 iii. 134 ... 117 
 iii. 205 ... 253 
 iii. 214 ... 4! 
 iii. 221 ... 253 
 
 II i. 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 iv. 
 „ iv. 
 
 iv. 
 
 iv. 
 
 vi. 
 
 18 . 145 
 .57 ... 402 
 13S ... 314 
 1(!4 ... 145 
 1(57 ... 314 
 102 ... 200 
 25 ... KiO 
 
 i. 1,58 ... 405 
 ii. 11 ... 83 
 ii. (i7 ... 2.57 
 ii. 80 ... 258 
 
 Venus and Adjnis. 
 Line Patre 
 
 
 iii. 251 ... 32H 
 
 vi. 
 
 27 ... 217 
 
 Dedication 
 
 ... 62 
 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 
 iii. 259 ... 347 
 
 Ill i. 
 
 1,53 ... 441 
 
 49 ... 
 
 ... 4(i2 
 
 No. 
 
 P.iKe 
 
 40(1 
 
 111 
 
 ii. 14 ... 384 
 
 i- 
 
 170 ... 442 
 
 129 ... 
 
 ... 2lil, 4,55 
 
 
 
 ii. 20 ... 96 
 
 ,, i. 
 
 241 ... 4.58 
 
 303 ... 
 
 ... 455 
 
 () 
 
 4.54 
 
 
 ii. 6(1 ... 283 
 
 i. 
 
 243 ... 450 
 
 310 ... 
 
 ... 473 
 
 8 
 
 29S 
 
 
 ii. 69 ... 319 
 
 1- 
 
 245 ... 400 
 
 401 ... 
 
 ... 205 
 
 10 
 
 401 
 
 
 ii. 71 ... 137 
 
 i. 
 
 246 ... 10(; 
 
 .567 
 
 ... 184 
 
 13 
 
 34 i, 4 19 
 
 
 ii. 74 ... 98 
 
 i. 
 
 251 ... 353 
 
 767 
 
 ... 247 
 
 17 
 19 
 
 258 
 
 
 ii. 162 ... 1(>5 
 
 IV i. 
 
 64 ... 442 
 
 841 ... 
 
 ... 258 
 
 273 
 
 
 ii. 167 ... 103 
 
 iii. 
 
 8 ... 301 
 
 035 ... 
 
 ... 254 
 
 21 
 
 274 
 
 
 iii. 2 ... 454 
 
 V i. 
 
 4 ... 3.52 
 
 0(i6 ... 
 
 ... 4(i2 
 
 24 
 
 •>■]■> -"M 4U9 
 
 
 iii. 38-53 ... 118 
 
 „ iv. 
 
 108 ... 312 
 
 085 
 
 ... 107 
 
 25 
 
 267 
 
 
 iii. 47 ... 114 
 
 iv. 
 
 100 ... 303 
 
 1135-1164 
 
 ... 1.56 
 
 27 
 
 254 
 
 
 iii. 118 
 
 iii. 51 ... 472 
 
 Tivelfth 
 
 Night. 
 
 Lncrece. 
 
 35 
 37 
 
 47 
 
 272 
 
 
 iii. 74 ... 46 
 
 I i. 
 
 22 ... 310 
 
 115 ... 
 
 ... 64 
 
 42 
 
 210 
 
 
 iii. 75 ... 4()8 
 
 iii. 
 
 9 ... 379 
 
 200 
 
 ... 156 
 
 49 
 
 473 
 
 
 iii. 103 ... 120 
 iii 294 
 
 iii. 100 ... 408 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 125 ... 60 
 
 2(H ... 
 
 ... 2(i6 
 
 51 
 
 210 
 
 
 „ iii. 
 
 V. 
 
 140 ... 221 
 311 ... 161 
 
 313 ... 
 340 
 
 ... 3.30 
 ... 3.56 
 
 52 
 55 
 
 91,407 
 43 
 
 
 iii. 151 ... 439 
 
 iii. 153 ... 375 
 
 iii. 214 ... 46 
 
 i. 57 ... 442 
 
 i. 75 ... 274 
 
 n i. 
 
 11 ... 34(i 
 
 421 ... 
 
 ... 230,441 
 
 (!0 
 
 47 
 
 IV 
 
 „ i. 
 
 ,, iv. 
 
 iv. 
 
 355 
 
 14 ... 152 
 
 77 ... 122 
 
 432 ... 
 
 526 
 540 ... 
 
 ... 239,440 
 ... 402 
 ... 2,36 
 
 69 
 70 
 
 72 
 
 93 
 
 2,57 
 40 
 
 
 V. 
 
 3S ... 447 
 
 (ilO ... 
 
 ... 465 
 
 73 
 
 41 
 
 
 iv. 66 ... 377 
 
 V. 
 
 97 ... 281 
 
 (i33 ... 
 
 ... 120. 385 
 
 74 
 
 41. 265, 310 
 
 IV 
 
 i /. 70 ... .3t)0 
 
 V. 
 
 181 ... 418 
 
 604 
 
 ... 467 
 
 78 
 
 369 
 
 
 V. 122 ... 381 
 
 Ill i. 
 
 43 ... 177 
 
 780 
 
 75 
 
 81 
 
 42 
 
 V 
 
 V. 142 ... 378 
 ii. 116 ... 30() 
 
 IV ii! 
 
 54 ... 248 
 5 ... 347 
 
 800 ... 
 867 
 
 ... 272 
 ... 243 
 
 84 
 87 
 
 211 
 
 18 
 
 n 
 
 ii. 13(1 ... 344 
 
 V i. 
 
 287 ... 355 
 
 892 
 
 ... 4.54 
 
 89 
 
 272, 473 
 
 ») 
 
 ii. 147 ... .329 
 
 i- 
 
 301 ... 336 
 
 928 ... 
 
 ... 271 
 
 94 
 
 243 
 
 »1 
 
 ii. 158 ... 357 
 ii. 173 ... 333 
 
 Winter 
 
 s Tale. 
 
 931 ... 
 931) ... 
 
 .. 317 
 ... 3.57 
 
 100 
 102 
 
 266. 393 
 88, 274, 437 
 
 " 
 
 ii. 180 ... 333 
 iii. 37 ... 229 
 iv. ]2 ... 215 
 
 X. 13 ... 300 
 
 1 I 
 
 31 ... 207 
 
 9.52 
 
 ... 468 
 
 lOli 
 
 85 
 
 !! 
 
 ii. 192-207 ... 74 
 
 1009-1078 
 
 ... .52 
 
 107 
 
 42, 47, 375 
 
 " 
 
 ., ii. 
 
 388 ... 236 
 
 lO.SO ... 
 
 ... 203 
 
 108 
 
 273 
 
 '• 
 
 IV iv. 
 
 24 ... 153 
 
 1107 ... 
 
 75 
 
 113 
 
 .309 
 
 Two Oentlemen of 
 Verona. 
 
 „ iv. 
 „ i V. 
 ,, iv. 
 
 42 ... 153 
 
 89 ... 187 
 105 ... 267 
 
 1287 ... 
 1.300-14 10 
 1399 ... 
 
 ... 11.' 
 ... 185 
 ... 213 
 
 111 
 120 
 129 
 
 304 
 442 
 251 
 
 I 
 
 i. l-OO ... 1 14 
 
 „ i v. 
 
 172 ... 205 
 
 1443 ... 
 
 ... 409 
 
 133 
 
 460 
 
 
 ii. .57 ... 144 
 
 „ iv. 
 
 453 ... 177 
 
 1554 ... 
 
 ... 401 
 
 137 
 
 278 
 
 
 ii. 114 ... 242 
 
 iv. 
 
 401 ... 153 
 
 1577 ... 
 
 75 
 
 144 
 
 4.53 
 
 ,, 
 
 ii. 07 ... 455 
 
 V i. 
 
 2(i ... 363 
 
 1613 ... 
 
 ... 52 
 
 146 
 
 3J1
 
 INDEX II. 
 
 Classic Words in Chapter XIV. 
 
 1 Abruption 
 
 2 Academe 
 
 3 Aecite 
 
 4 Acknown 
 
 5 Ant 
 
 6 Admiration 
 
 7 Adveriising 
 
 8 Aggravate 
 
 9 Ant res 
 
 10 Argentine 
 
 11 Artifleial 
 
 12 Aspersion 
 
 13 Cacodoemon 
 
 14 Cadent 
 
 15 Candidatus 
 
 16 Capricious 
 
 17 Captious 
 
 18 Cast 
 
 19 (i.) Casual 
 
 ., (ii.) Casualties 
 
 20 Cireummuie 
 
 21 Circumscribe 
 
 22 Circumscription 
 
 23 Civil 
 
 24 Collect 
 
 25 Cillection 
 2(j Comfort 
 
 27 Complement 
 
 28 Composition 
 
 29 Composure 
 
 30 Compound 
 
 31 Concent 
 
 32 Conduce 
 
 33 Conduct 
 
 34 (i.) Confine 
 
 ,. (ii.) Conflneless 
 ,. (iii.)Un_'onflnable 
 
 35 Confix 
 
 3(i Congreeing 
 
 37 Congruent 
 
 38 Consequence 
 
 39 Consign 
 
 40 Consist 
 
 41 Con^tringed 
 4i Contain 
 
 43 Content 
 
 44 Continent 
 
 45 Contraction 
 4(5 Contrive 
 
 47 Conveniences' 
 
 48 Convent 
 
 49 Conversation 
 
 50 Convicted 
 
 51 Convince 
 
 52 Crescive 
 
 53 Crisp 
 
 5^ Decimation 
 55 Defnsed 
 
 56 Degenerate 
 
 57 Deject 
 
 58 Delated 
 
 59 Delaiion 
 
 60 Demerits 
 
 61 Djmise 
 
 62 Depend 
 
 03 (i.) Deprave 
 
 „ (ii.) Depravation 
 
 64 (i.) Derogate 
 
 „ (ii.) Derogation 
 
 65 (i.) Determine 
 
 „ (ii.) Determinate 
 „ (iii.) Determination 
 6u Digested 
 
 67 Dilated 
 
 68 Discoloured 
 
 69 Dissemble 
 ' 70 Distract 
 
 71 Document 
 
 72 Double 
 
 73 E-nioent 
 71 Epitho-on 
 75 (i.) Err 
 
 ,. (ii.) Krrant 
 ., (iii.) Erring 
 
 70 Evitate 
 
 77 Exempt 
 
 78 Exhaust 
 
 79 Exhibition 
 
 80 Exit^ent 
 
 81 (i.) R.\:orcism 
 ,, (ii.) Esorcisor 
 „ (iii.) Exorcist 
 
 82 Expedient 
 
 83 Expedition 
 81 Expostulate 
 85 Expulsed 
 
 80 Exsufflicate 
 
 87 Extenuate 
 
 88 Estirp 
 
 89 Extracting 
 
 90 (i.) Extravagant 
 „ (ii.) Extravagancy 
 
 91 Facinorous 
 
 92 Fact 
 
 93 Factious 
 
 94 Fatigate 
 
 95 Festinate-ly 
 9'3 Fine-less 
 
 97 Fortitude 
 
 98 Fracted 
 
 99 Fraction 
 
 100 Frustrate 
 
 101 (i.) Generous 
 
 ,, (ii.) (icnerosity 
 „ (iii.)Gentlo 
 „ (iv.) Gentility 
 
 102 Glory 
 
 103 Gratulate 
 ICl Illustrate 
 in5 Immanity 
 100 (i.) Imminent 
 
 ,. (ii.) Imminence 
 
 107 Immure 
 
 108 (i.i Impertinent 
 ., (ii.) Impertinency 
 
 109 implorator 
 
 110 Imponed 
 
 111 (i.) Impose 
 
 ., (ii.) Imposition 
 
 112 Incarnadine 
 
 113 Incense 
 lU Incertain 
 
 115 Include 
 
 116 Inclusive 
 
 117 Indigest 
 
 118 Indign 
 
 119 Indubitate 
 
 120 Inequality 
 
 121 (i.) Infest 
 
 ,. (ii.) Infestion 
 
 122 Influence 
 
 123 Inform 
 
 121 Infortunat9 
 12) Ingenious 
 
 126 Inhabitable 
 
 127 (i.) Inherit 
 
 „ (ii.) Inheritor 
 
 128 Insinuation 
 12J (i.) Insisture 
 
 .. (ii.) Insisting 
 
 130 Instance 
 
 131 Instant 
 
 132 (i.) Insult 
 
 „ (ii.) Insultment 
 13! Intend 
 
 134 Intentively 
 
 135 Inteniblo 
 130 (i.) Intrinse 
 
 .. (ii.) Intrinsecite 
 
 137 Lethe 
 
 138 (i.i Maculate 
 
 .. (li.) Maculalion 
 13.) Merc-ly 
 
 140 M.'rit 
 
 141 Mirable 
 112 Modest V 
 143 (i.) .Mure 
 
 „ (ii.) Mural 
 111 Name 
 
 145 N ISO 
 
 146 (i.) Obliged 
 
 „ (ii.) Obligation 
 
 147 Occident 
 
 148 Ollice 
 
 149 Officious 
 
 150 Oppugnaney 
 
 151 (i.) Ostent 
 
 .. (ii.) Ostentation 
 
 152 P,iint-ed 
 15! Pall lament 
 151 (i.) Part 
 
 „ (ii.) Partial-ly 
 ., (iii.) Party 
 155 Perdition 
 
 15) Perdnrable-ly 
 
 157 Peregrinate 
 
 158 Periapts 
 
 159 Permission 
 
 160 Pernicious 
 
 161 Peipend 
 1'2 Persian 
 163 Person 
 161 Pervert 
 165 Plague 
 
 16) Plant 
 
 167 Plausibly 
 16S Port 
 
 169 Port (bis) 
 
 170 Portable 
 
 171 Prefer 
 
 172 Premised 
 
 173 Preposterous 
 
 174 Prevent 
 
 175 Prevention 
 
 176 Probation 
 
 177 Proditor 
 
 178 Propend 
 
 179 Propension 
 
 180 Propugnation 
 
 181 Pudency 
 
 182 (^uestant 
 
 183 Quajstrist 
 181 Recordation 
 
 185 Reduce 
 
 186 Re felled 
 
 187 Religious-ly 
 
 188 Uemonstrahce 
 
 189 Re motion 
 
 190 Renege 
 
 191 Replete 
 
 192 (i.) Repugn 
 
 ,, (ii.) Repu'.;nancy 
 ., (iii.) Ilepugnant 
 
 193 Repute 
 191 Uetentiv'O 
 195 Revert 
 lift) Rivago 
 
 197 Roscius 
 
 198 Ruinate 
 
 199 (i.) Sacred 
 „ (ii.) Sacred 
 
 200 Salve
 
 496 
 
 CLASSIC WORDS IN CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 201 Scope 
 
 202 Sect 
 
 203 (i.) Secure-ly 
 „ (ii.) Security 
 
 204 Seen 
 
 20o Segregation 
 
 206 Semblable 
 
 207 Sensible 
 
 208 Septentrion 
 
 209 Sequent 
 
 210 Simular 
 
 211 Solemn 
 
 212 Sort 
 
 2i;! (i.) Speculation 
 „ (li.) Speculative 
 214 Stelled 
 
 215 Stelled 
 
 216 Sluprum 
 
 217 Substitute 
 
 218 Success 
 
 219 Suppliance 
 
 220 Suspire 
 
 221 Suspiration 
 
 222 Tenable 
 
 223 Terms 
 
 22-t Translate 
 
 225 Umbered 
 
 226 Umbrage 
 
 227 Uncivir 
 
 228 Uncon finable 
 
 229 Unsislinj; 
 2:50 Unseminared
 
 INDEX III. 
 
 Topics and Names. 
 
 In this Index S. = Shakespeare ; W. S. = William Shakspere; B. = Bacon; B.-S. 
 = The Bacon-Shakespeare Controversy. 
 
 Abate, The edge, 276 
 Abbott (Dr.) Charm of B."s 
 
 Style, 37; S. Grammar, 69, 
 Accident and foresight, 269 
 Adonis' gardens, 206 
 Adrian : Curious, 278 
 Advantage, 261, 454 
 ^thiope, 160 
 Agamemnon, 102 
 Allusions, Classic, in S., 225, 
 
 229, 267, 292-309, 323, 339, 
 
 349, 378. 441, 4.i3 
 Anaxarchus, 233 
 Andrews (Dr.), Letter by B. 
 
 to, 66 
 Anonymous Writings by B., 
 
 35, 417 
 Antiquity, 181 
 Antitheta in S., 283, 285; Use 
 
 of, 63 
 Aristippus, 209 
 Aristotle, 80, 162, 230, 249, 344, 
 
 433 
 Aristocratic sentiment in S., 
 
 20 
 Armour of the mind, 252 
 Art and nature, 187 
 Ashes and cinders, 270 
 Augustine (Saint), 297 
 
 Baby, 276 
 
 Back, Carries a revenue, 447 
 
 Bacon (Francis, Lord) neg- 
 lected by S. Sciiolars, ix., 
 488: on the Common people 
 21; Life, 32; Scholarship, 32; 
 Inaccurate quotation, 32: a 
 Poet, 34; Disguises. 35, 416; 
 Private Life, 36; Literary 
 output, 38; Claims immor- 
 tality, 40 ; Personal char- 
 acteristics in 8., 43 ; Fall, 
 45; Self-vindication in S., 
 47; Dramatic faculty, 48; 
 and Essex, 59; and Coke, 
 6(1; his Antitheta, 63, 281; 
 and Tennyson, 71 ;B. PIssays 
 in S., 279; resembles Fal- 
 staflf, 282 
 
 Bacon (Lady Ann), 62 
 
 Bacon (.\nthony), 37 
 
 B.-S., X., xi., 2, 3 - 9 
 
 Bail of death, 205 
 
 Baines (Professor), 286, 349 
 
 Bandy, 471 
 
 Base Court. 254 
 
 Basilisk, 234, 391 
 
 Bastard, Usury, 247 
 
 Bastinado, 232 
 
 Beethoven : Early and late 
 Works, 484 
 
 Behaviour a garment, 109 
 
 Bettenham, Saying of, 179 
 
 Bias, 277 
 
 BlaL;k feathers, 257 
 
 Bleeding inwards, 210, 460 
 
 Braddon ( Miss) Output and 
 B.'s, 40 
 
 Brain-sick, 471 
 
 Brandes (Professor), 149, 462 
 
 Breast, Striking the, 43 
 
 Browne (Brit. Past), 364 
 
 Bruno, 2.), 27, 423 
 
 Bnrghley, 38, 167 
 
 Bullen, 158, 416, 419, 422, 427, 
 429 
 
 Burton, Anatomv of Melan- 
 choly, 161, 163, 165, 447 
 
 Cade (Jack). 48 
 
 Cadence in music, 298 
 
 Campbell (Lord) on Law in 
 S, 19 
 
 Carseoli, Foxes, 4.53 
 
 Castillo, 163 
 
 Catullus, 3r0 
 
 Certainly, 281 
 
 Clianee and foresight, 269 
 
 Chapman and Marlowe, 424 
 
 Chapman's praise, 274 
 
 Chamber of meditation, 269 
 
 Chettle, 13 
 
 Cicero, 45, 67, 123, 190, 297, 
 343, 373, 379, 394 
 
 Circe, 442 
 
 Classic Learning, how shown 
 292 ; Impossible to W. S , 
 297; Plav.s, 29!. 308; Con- 
 structions, 293, 309; Words, 
 293, 318 
 
 Cockatrice, 234 
 
 Coke(Lord), 3.3, 6) 
 
 Coleridge (S. T.) on S., 5, 414 ; 
 Rash critics, 129 
 
 Coleridge (Hartley): S. a 
 Tory, 20 
 
 Collier and Marlowe, 421-4 
 
 Colours, 471 
 
 Common and popular, 277 
 
 Compan ionship,446 (chap.V.) 
 
 Concent, 280 
 
 Coniell, 26 
 
 Contention, Drama, 47, 466 
 
 (Country life not in S., 23 
 
 Court holy water, 255 
 
 Covet honour, 257 
 
 Cowden-Clarke on S. learn- 
 ing, 286, 289, 316, 317, 338, 
 341. 347, 350, 354, 364; S. Key, 
 317 
 
 Cudgelled ears, 231 
 
 Crow : Type of slander, 257 
 
 Cunningham on Marlowe, 
 420 
 
 Danger, Stand in his, 276 
 
 Davidson's Rhapsody, 158 
 
 Dedications, Self- deprecia- 
 tion in. 61 
 
 Demojritus, 167, 169 
 
 Demosthenes, 87 
 
 Deverenx : Life of Essex, 37, 
 109 
 
 Dido (Marlowe's), 426, 428 
 
 Discourse of reason, 307 
 
 Diogenes Laertius, 233 
 
 Dixon ( Hepworth), 62 
 
 Donnelly on B.-S., 13, 3>), 223. 
 225 
 
 Dowden on W. S., 6, 23; on 
 Marlowe, 416 
 
 Dramatic Situation in S. and 
 Marlowe, 477 
 
 Drylight, 96 
 
 Dutch Feists. 236 
 
 Dyee, 122, 374, 431 
 
 Echoing-repartee, 474 
 Eclips3, 46 
 Edge of envy. 276 
 Edward XL (Marlowe's), 63, 
 
 76, 193,217.221 
 Elze on S. foreign travel, 25 
 Rlizabelhan songbooks. 157 
 Ellis on Permissio int'.dlec- 
 
 tus, 3S7 
 Emerson on S , 5 
 Enamelled danger, 231 
 England's Helicon, 157 
 English feasts, 236 
 Entertain hopes, 9'3, 97 
 Erasmus, 12 
 
 KK
 
 498 
 
 Erclcs vein in S., 426, 428, 4.'?1 
 Essays of B. misunderstood, 
 
 13 
 Esses (Earl), 4, 37,45,59,77, 
 
 109 
 Euripedes, 306, 307 
 Expense of spirit, 2r)l 
 Eye, Double, 258 
 
 Fair weather, 275 
 Farmer on S., 368 
 Fascination, 161, 236 
 Faustns (Marlowe's), 422, 
 
 451,4,Sl 
 Fawninglion, 220, 241 
 Feared and loved, 46.3 
 Feasts, English and Dutch, 
 
 256 
 Felicity, 463 
 Few words, 220 
 Figures and forms, 272 
 Fitzgerald ( Edward), 337 
 Flattery : Hope, 105, 437 
 Flea on Marlowe, 430, 436, 
 
 44i,483 
 Florio's Montaigne, 17 
 Folio of 1623. 8, 69 
 Fool's bolt, 205 
 Foreslow, 471 
 Forges, 170 
 
 Forgetting, Art of, 216, 461 
 Fort of reason, 252 
 Fortune to fools, 205 
 Fowler (Professor), 87, 387 
 French language in S., 24, 25 
 
 38 
 Furnivall on Law in S,, 20 
 
 Gauntlet and glove, 252 
 Glass, The eye and, 117, 295, 
 
 296 
 Glory, 210 
 Goethe and B., 33 
 Golden, 438. 444 
 Golding's Ovid, 364 
 Grammatical Forms in S., 
 
 309, 317 
 Grant on Faustns, 216 
 Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 
 
 13 
 Grosart on B.'s Authorship 
 
 of Christian Paradoxes, 8 
 Gross and palpable, 264 
 
 Habit and fashion, 110 
 
 Hail of pearl, 212 
 
 Hales on S. Foreign travel, 
 
 25 
 Hallam on S., 5 
 Harvey (Dr.). 34, 288 
 Harsh and out of lun^. 268 
 Hearing and seeing 215 
 Hell of pain, 412 
 Heminge, 36 
 Hcraclitus, 96 
 Hero and Leander, 169, 347, 
 
 421 
 Holmes (.ludi'e),]. 13 
 Holy wntcr. 255 
 Homer, ,306, 307 
 Honey and speech, 241 
 Hooker. 327 
 Hope. Singular ideas of B., 
 
 66, 97; and madness, 107 
 
 TOPICS AND NAMES. 
 
 Horace, 21. 199, 299, 301, 304, 
 
 352, 3SM. 3S9 
 Horticultnre in S., 190 
 Hudson ( Rev. W. II.). 66. 97 
 Hunt (Leigh) on S. learning, 
 
 286, 395 
 Hylas and Hercules, 4'22 
 
 Ignoto, Poems by, 158 
 Immortalitv anticipated by 
 
 B. and S..40 
 Imposthumes, 210 
 Impossibilitie-i, 182 
 Ingleby's Century of praise, 
 
 31 
 Instance, 374 
 Intend, 181 
 
 Internal evidence, 425 
 Iris, 445 
 Italy and poison, 465 
 
 Jew of Malta (Marlowe's), 
 
 423, 429 
 Jonson (Ben), 6, 29, 36, 49,235, 
 
 320, 403 
 
 Keep state, 276 
 
 Kennedy on Mvrlowe, 416, 
 427 
 
 Knight (Charles) on W. S., 
 5. 286, 297,378; Use of paral- 
 lels, 23; on Marlowe, 421, 
 431 
 
 Knots in wood, 243 
 
 Lamb ("Charles) on Marlowe, 
 
 485 
 Lame man, 272 
 Lamps of love, 163 
 Landor, W. S. on Love, 129 
 Latin: Aceurnte io B, 399; 
 
 Inaccu'-ate, 32 
 Law in S., 18, 487; Langna^e 
 
 ditTicult to acquire, 19, 277; 
 
 not in M irlowe, 487 
 Leaf-.iov, lOi 
 Lee (Sidney). Life of S.. 28 
 
 „ (Vernon), 69, 108,156 
 Leicester (Earl), 77 
 Licetu=i, 302 
 Lies in the ear, &c., 260 
 Like himself, 218 
 Lion fawning, 229, 411 
 Livy,67 
 
 Lodged, 204 460 
 Long of, 472 
 Long arms, 206 
 LoDcz in Faustns, 422 
 Love in 15. and S.. 126: S anty 
 use of, 131, 151: and folly, 
 163: without end, 254; and 
 Ilatlery. 293 
 Loved, Lacked, 305 
 Lowell (.1. Kussell) on Mar- 
 lowe. 76. 416, 483 
 Lubricus locus, 45 
 Lucrece and B., 49 
 Luther, 78 
 Lyrics by B , 157 
 
 Madness prevalent, 267, 299; 
 
 Method in. 209 
 Magnanimous lion, 229 
 
 Mallet on B. Dramatic 
 
 faculty, 48 
 
 Marigolds, 267 
 
 Marlowe, 415; Character of, 
 419; Various styles in, 416, 
 426; Passages in S., 426-439, 
 4S1 ; Orifjin of plays unex- 
 plained, 420 
 
 Marshall to the will, 252 
 
 Mirtineau on wonder, 80 
 
 Martyrdom, 174 
 
 Massicre of Paris (Mar- 
 lowe's), 433 
 
 Massay (Gerald), 1, 1.58, 430, 
 462 
 
 Meikle.iohn, Pay home, 472 
 
 Merchant's praise, 273 
 
 Mercy and cruelty, 246 
 
 Mercury. 445 
 
 Midas. 447 
 
 Milton. 287, 373. 395 
 
 Mines, Pits. Forges, 167 
 
 Miracles, 82, 171; and misery, 
 171 
 
 Moberly, 351 
 
 Money and muck, 179; in 
 purse, 260 
 
 Montaigne, Copy of, with 
 W. S. autograph, 17 
 
 Moonshine in water, 205 
 
 Moore (Col.) on B. and S., 124, 
 229 
 
 Morgan (Appleton) on B.-S., 
 13 
 
 Motes and shadows, 262 
 
 Music in the soul, 298 
 
 Nail drives out nail, 206 
 
 Narcissus, 265 
 
 Nature and art, 187; and 
 
 fortune, 188 
 Neiffhbonrhood of plants, 
 
 193 
 Neil on W. S. and Bruno, 23; 
 
 on Aristotle in S., 102 
 Noise of wind, 244 
 Northumberland house MS. 
 
 173, 203 
 Nurseries of art, &c., 457 
 
 Old Men's talk. 257 
 
 Osborn on B.'s dramatic 
 
 faculty, 48 
 Otioman rubers, 230 
 Out of joint, 2,59 
 Out of tunc. 268 
 Ovid, 199,229.303,364 
 Over, as a prefix, 472 
 Owl, nightly, 404 
 
 Pack-horse, 271 
 
 Painted, 449 
 
 Parallels, Use of, 430, 470 
 
 Parnassus plays, 44, 96, 330, 
 
 479 
 Pav, Home, Ac, 472 
 Pearl, Hail of, 212 
 Permission, 387 
 Pent and mewed, 459 
 Persian garments, 389; Magic, 
 
 195 
 Persius, 299 
 Phaethon,441
 
 TOPICS AND NAMES. 
 
 499 
 
 Phillipps(Halli well), Life of 
 
 S., 23-31 
 Philosophia prima, 194, 298. 
 
 329 
 Physiognomy, 184 
 Picton (Allansoa) on S. bio- 
 graphy, 12 
 Plato, 35', 80.117,162, 294-298, 
 
 319 
 Play prizes, 262 
 Pliny, 233 
 Plntareh, 29lt 
 Poetry, Genesis of, 178 
 Point-device, 111 
 Pontiflcal, 93 
 Popularity. 277 
 Pott (Mrs. C) on Rural life 
 
 in ?., 23 ; Promus notes, 
 
 225 
 Praise, to Sell, 273 ; and 
 
 Virtue, 20S 
 Pray in aid, 275 
 Primum mobile, 191 
 Print of goodness. 274 
 Procus in B. and S., 208 
 Prolongation of life by hope, 
 
 105; by medic'lne, 19f> 
 Promus. Use of in B., 199; 
 
 Significance of, 201 
 Proteus, 447 
 Patting tricks on, 263 
 
 Quaestrists. 395 
 
 Quartos, 435 
 
 Question, begins a scene, 
 
 475; Out of. 281 
 Quicksilver, 2!7 
 Quod instat, 374, 393 
 
 Raleigh, 349 
 
 Ramus, 432 
 
 Rashness aud foresight, 269 
 
 Reed (Kdwin) on B.-S., 36, 
 
 269. 378 
 Repartee studied, 202, 474 
 Repentance too late, 467 
 Retrograde, 275 
 Robinson's Marlowe. 421 
 Rnggles on B. and Marlowe, 
 
 432 
 Runagate, 472 
 Reynolds on B.'s inaccurate 
 
 quotations, 32 
 
 S_xv(Lord),47 
 Schmidt, 328. 
 Scholarship of S., 286, 399; 
 
 how indicated, 292 
 Scott (Sir W.), His output 
 
 and B.'s, 40 
 Searching wounds, 211 
 Seeds of time, 249 
 Seneca, 67, 199, 403 
 Shadows and motes, 262 
 
 Shakespere (William) : A 
 Misfit, 5, 290; Life, 10, 23; 
 Probabilities, 16 
 
 Shakespeare: Spellingof xi.; 
 Aristocrat, 20; Lawyer. 18; 
 on common people, 21 ; a 
 scholar, 24 (chap, xiii., 
 xiv.); Accomplishments, 
 24; Quartos, 56; a classic, 
 413 
 
 Shelley on B., 35 
 
 Silence and wonder, 84 
 
 Slander, 257 
 
 Sleep in afternoon, 186 ; 
 Nourishes, 186 
 
 Sleeping laws, 439 
 
 Sleight, 215 
 
 Slippery standing, 45-47 
 
 Sly Ulvsses, 213 
 
 Smith "(Dr. William), Classi- 
 cal dictionary, 400 
 
 Sonnets claim immortality, 
 40-43 
 
 Sophister, 472 
 
 Sound of wind, 244; at night 
 243; Sweet, 243 
 
 Spain, a hot region, 270 
 
 Spedding (James): On works 
 wrongly attributed to B., 
 8. 37; B.'s Ideas nn hope, 
 95: on style in B. and S., 
 283; on Inequality, 3i;ii 
 
 Spenser (Edmund). 329, .348 
 
 Spilling out the tongue, 233 
 
 Staged. 263 
 
 Stars and fires, 233 
 
 Stapfcr on classics in S., 305 
 
 Starting-holes, 262, 452 
 
 Staunton (Howard) on clas- 
 sic US'' of words in S.. 392 
 
 Stores (Mrs.) on B.-S., 27 
 
 Stale.Keeping,72; andpride, 
 113 
 
 Sturr (Frank) and Gibson's 
 Essays of B., 129 
 
 Strange, 280, 473 
 
 Stronach on Sidney Lee's 
 Life of S., 28 
 
 Study of imagination, 269 
 
 Success, too much, 225 
 
 Suck, 4,3 
 
 Sunshine everywhere, 174 
 
 Sweet. Turning sour, 2J2; 
 Speech, 243. 436 
 
 Swelling, Pride, &e., 238, 440, 
 450, 453 
 
 Sympathy and antipathy, 
 100, 196 
 
 Tacitus, 32. 4.5, 348 
 
 Tancock (Rev. O. W. ) on 
 
 Marlowe, 384, 435, 436, 440. 
 
 447, 458, 471 
 
 Tamburlaine (Marlowe's), 
 
 422. 453 
 Taper-light, 2,53 
 Tennyson and B., 71-126 
 Terence, 303 
 Theobald (Lewis): Classics 
 
 in S., 223. 303-307, 349,402 
 Theobald (William), 245, 453 
 Thrice double, &c., 474 
 TibuUus. 303 
 Tigers, 461, 464 
 Time -wastes life, 2j6 ; 
 
 Wrongs of, 273 
 Tops in B. and S., 88, 233 
 Tossing, 337 
 Trash, 271 
 Travellers, 279. 437 
 Troublers of the world, 230 
 Troublesome reign of John 
 
 (Prologue), 421 
 True Tragedy, 55, 449 
 Twenty, 276 
 
 Ulysses, Slv. 213 
 Universitylifeof S., 289 
 Usury, 247 
 
 Vail. Pride, Stomach, &e. 
 
 443 
 Valerius Maximus. 233 
 Venom, Swelling, 238 
 Verity on Marlowe. 436 
 Vining(BanksideS.), 394 
 Violets on grave, 299 
 Virgil, 199, 301, 302, 405, 458 
 Vitzthum (Count) on Mar- 
 lowe and S., 137 
 
 Walsingham and B., 37 
 
 War medicinal, 249 
 
 What else ? 221 
 
 Wheel of fortune, 468 
 
 Whiffiers, 275 
 
 White (R. Grant) on W. ,S., 
 
 5, 30. 286; Prosaic passages 
 
 in S., 69 : Scholarship of 
 
 S., 294, 407 
 White ( r. W.), Love in S.. 132; 
 242; Marlowe and S., 455. 479 
 Windows to the heart, 271_ 
 Wind begins scenes, 4i6; 
 
 Sound of. 2)4 
 Witchcraft and hope, 103 
 Wolsey (Cardinal), 45 
 Wolves, 261. 404 
 Wonder, Philosophy of, 80; 
 
 begins scenes, 476 
 Words and blows, 232 
 Wordsworth (Bishop). 207 
 Wounds driven in, 240 ; 
 
 Searched, 241 
 Wright (W. Aldis) on S. Style 
 
 69; Quoted, 358, .390, 403 
 Wrong of time, 273
 
 This book 4s DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 JAW 7 '^^ 
 . \ 4 ^^^^ 
 
 JANl '?^-'?" 
 APR 15 1952 
 
 jyW_14 1952 
 
 f 1 1 1953 
 p£B 2 2 1956 
 
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