this year, has this entry: "By His Majesty's Players: on St. Stephen's night, in the Hall, a play called 'Measure for Measure,' by Mr. Shaxberd."

What a chance Tylney lost for grateful immortality! The mere mention of the name of the playwright, whose name he could not spell, has preserved his for three hundred years, and will probably preserve it for many hundred more. But what a precious thing he would have conferred on us had he taken the trouble to make the acquaintance of "Mr. Shaxberd," and noted his ways and sayings, or said something interesting of him, along with this item! How much we would have been indebted to him if he had only written as much as I have written here, on this page, about this humble playwright, whose name he knew not how to spell! O young man, do not fail, when you come in contact with genius, to use your eyes and ears well, and to make some record of what you have seen and heard; for you may thus

not only confer a boon on posterity, but a pleasing immortality on yourself! Who would not like to have his name. linked in immortal association with that of the gentle Shakespeare, the sweet bard of Avon !

CHAPTER IX.

THE INCIDENTS OF SHAKESPEARE'S LIFE

HIS CONVERSATION—HIS WORKS.

HE stray notices of Shakespeare

THE

found here and there in the writers of his time, showing when he probably wrote such a play, when he stopped at such a place or played such a character, when he had so many shares in the theater, or bought such a piece of land, have very little to do in exhibiting to us the man Shakespeare, the poet whose works. we read with so much admiration. It is the conversation, the thoughts, feelings, hopes and fears, aims and objects of a man that show us what he is; and the known incidents of Shakespeare's life show us few, if any, of these things. We know little of the man except what we find in his writings. But he is not so peculiar in this respect as many imagine.

"The great dramatist," says Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps, "participates in the fate of most of his literary contemporaries; for if a collection of the known facts relating to all of them were tabularly arranged, it would be found that the number of the ascertained particulars of his life reached at least the average." What do the details which we have of Massinger's life show us of the man who wrote A New Way to pay Old Debts? What do the few unhappy stories of Otway's career show us of the man who wrote Venice Preserved? What do these things show us of the daily life and conversation of these men? The men who wrote these plays were quite different men from those who are described as having eaten at such a place, drunk at such another, and starved at such another. The man of genius is, in the composition of his works, and in the best moments of his social life, a burning torch, shedding light on all around, an inspired prophet and preacher, bringing forth, with radiant feature and beaming eye, things new and old for the

edification and delectation of mankind. And when his work is done, and he engages in the ordinary affairs of life, he becomes again a common mortal, thinking, speaking, acting, eating and drinking like any other common mortal. The men we see in the biographies are often poor wretched creatures, seeking or suing for bread among people who did not understand or appreciate them, and displaying nothing to identify them with their writings. For it is notorious that men of letters have generally been lacking in that worldly wisdom which amasses. wealth, and have frequently been obliged to submit to the most galling humiliations to receive the means of subsistence. "I saw so many men of letters poor and despised," says the wise Voltaire, “that I made up my mind that I would not add to their number;" and I am inclined to think the wise Shakespeare made the same resolution.

What man of any culture has not his moments of luminous thought, of rare conceptions and bright imaginings, when