“Sweet wife, if ever there was any good will or friendship between
thee and me, see this bearer (my host) satisfied of his debt. I owe
him tenne pounds and but for him I had perished in the streetes.
Forget and forgive my wrongs done unto thee and Almighty God have
mercie on my soule. Farewell till we meet in heaven for on earth thou
shalt never see me more.
“This 2nd day of Sept., 1592.
“Written by thy dying husband,
“ROBERT GREENE.”
The reader will notice the statement in the posthumed letter that the
poet had contracted a debt to the sum of ten pounds, equal to $400
present money, but there is nothing whatever about leaving many papers
in sundry bookseller’s hands which Chettle averred in the address “To
the Gentlemen Readers Kind Hearts Dreame.” If this were a fact, the
bookseller doubtless would have been called upon; “see this bearer (my
host) satisfied of his debt,” and sweet wife would not have bourne the
burden while booksellers felt themselves blest to pay dear for the very
dregs of her husband’s wit.
Those writers who express no doubt of the authenticity of the posthumed
pamphlets, leave their readers to set down as auto-biographical
whatever portions of those pieces he may think proper. At the same
time the trend of impulse is given the reader by the critics that he
may not fail to read the story of the poet’s life out of characters
devoid of all faith in honesty and in virtue, while the author (Greene)
is anxious evidently to point a moral by them and reprove vice. These
forged pamphlets and so-called auto-biographical pamphlets make Greene
accuse himself of crimes which he surely did not commit, such as the
crime of theft and murder. He says, “I exceeded all others in these
kinds of sinnes,” and he is represented as the most atrocious villain
that ever walked the earth. There is not an atom of evidence adduced
to show Francisco in “Never Too Late” was intended by the author for
a picture of himself, and we do not believe that Greene wrote the
pamphlet in which Roberto, in “Groats Worth of Wit” is one of the
despicable characters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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