after him in vain,” and even the reader, much more the listener, might
say, _sufflaminandus est_; “he needs to have the brake put on.” {287a}
Such, according to unimpeachable evidence, was Will. Only despair can
venture the sad suggestion that, under the name of Shakespeare, Ben is
here speaking of Bacon, as “falling into those things which could not
escape laughter . . . which were ridiculous.” But to this last poor
shift and fantastic guess were the Anti-Willians and Baconians reduced.
Such was Shakespeare, according to a rival.
But it is “impossible” that a man should have known so much, especially
of classical literature and courtly ways, and foreign manners and
phrases, if he had no more, at most, than four or five years at a Latin
school, and five or six years in that forcing-house of faculty, the
London of the stage, in the flush of the triumph over the Armada.
“With innumerable sorts of English books and infinite fardles of printed
pamphlets this country is pestered, all shops stuffed, and every study
furnished,” says a contemporary. {288a} If a doubter will look at the
cheap and common books of that day (a play in quarto, and the Sonnets of
Shakespeare, when new, were sold for fippence) in any great collection;
he will not marvel that to a lover of books, poor as he might be, many
were accessible. Such a man cannot be kept from books.
If the reader will look into “the translations and imitations of the
classics which poured from the press . . . the poems and love-pamphlets
and plays of the University wits” (when these chanced to be printed),
“the tracts and dialogues in the prevailing taste,” {288b} he will
understand the literary soil in which the genius of Shakespeare blossomed
as rapidly as the flowers in “Adonis’ garden.” The whole literature was,
to an extent which we find tedious, saturated with classical myths,
anecdotes, philosophic _dicta_—a world of knowledge of a kind then “in
widest commonalty spread,” but now so much forgotten that, to Baconians
and the public, such lore seems recondite learning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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