There is little doubt that the subject would not have been thought worthy of discussion in such exalted circles, would in fact have been dismissed as a matter of not the least consequence, had it not been that quite recently that august man, the Dean of Christ Church College, had enjoyed the privilege of eating with Gloriana in her palace at Greenwich. And she had spoken in his hearing with high approval of the man Shakespeare, and was even pleasantly anticipating his new interlude, which was to be given for the first time in her presence on some fine summer’s afternoon in Richmond Park. In Ascalon they never referred to the fact that Gloriana, with all her merits, was an unlettered woman, whose taste was robust. For a queen is a queen even in the eyes of a Dean of Christ Church College; and when this curious, little bald man in a furred gown confided to the Master of Balliol, his distinguished coadjutor, that this mime whose name he forgot was undoubtedly _persona gratissima_ in royal palaces, they agreed that while such clowning could receive no sanction from the University, it would hardly be seemly in the circumstances to drive the mummers out of the town. It happened, at that time, that the Master of Balliol had staying with him in college a young man of promise, Mr. Francis Bacon by name, who knew his way about the Court. And when the Dean chanced to mention that this man, whose name he had forgotten, desired to perform three of his interludes within the precincts of that ancient home of learning and that the Queen approved him mightily, Mr. Francis Bacon, who even at that time had taken all knowledge for his province, exclaimed, “By God, it must be that plaguy fellow, Shakescene, that all the Court is mad about!” “Shakescene is the man’s name, undoubtedly,” said the eminent divine, gravely. “An importunate Shakescene, moreover, who would play three of his rustical interludes within the precincts of this old foundation.” “Importunate enough, I grant you,” said Mr. Francis, taking snuff with a great air. “Wat Raleigh tells me the numskull comes to Court in a barred cloak and affects the style of a gentleman. However--fine feathers make not fine birds. But why not let the rogue play his interludes, eh, Master? How say you, Mr. Dean? And we will go ourselves and witness ’em. I have long sought the opportunity to watch one of the performances of this ripe scholar.” “The rogue shall perform in the town, Mr. Francis,” said the Dean of Christ Church, “if perform he must, but not, I promise you, within the precincts of this old and honorable foundation.”