Andronicus,' and his

our English poets, given in a work called Palladis Tamia, or Wit's Treasury.' Meres declares that, as Plautus and Seneca excel respectively in tragedy and comedy among the Latins, so Shakespeare combines the merit of those authors among the English, being in tragedy and comedy equally excellent. "For comedy," he adds, "witness his Gentlemen of Verona,' his Errors,' his 'Love's Labour's Lost,' his Love's Labour's Won,' his Midsummer Night's Dream,' and his Merchant of Venice;' for tragedy, his 'Richard the Second,' Richard the Third,' 'Henry the Fourth,' 'King John,' 'Titus 6 Romeo and Juliet.' A little consideration shows that Meres simply mentions in this enumeration some of Shakespeare's productions as examples, and does not profess to give them all. Indeed, we at once discern important omissions, for nothing is said of the three parts of King Henry VI.,' which we know to have been printed in 1594-5; of 'Hamlet,' adverted to by Nashe in 1589; or of 'The Merry Wives of Windsor,' which we have proved to be written before 1588. Hence the list, valuable as it is, must be pronounced imperfect.

While giving the names of plays, which are now household words, Meres mentions a comedy we do not possess― at least under the same title-'LOVE'S LABOUR'S WON.' What has become of this treasure? We are unwilling to allow that any of Shakespeare's dramas have perished, for how can things immortal die! A providence seems to guard them through all the vicissitudes of nations and ages, so that man's thought outlives his grandest monuments. The critics have agreed that all we have lost of Love's Labour's Won' is its title. Like Oldcastle, the play has changed its name, and we have only to make out its identity. This, however, leads us into as great a maze among these plays as a quest for the Lost Tribes in ethnology. Shakespearean authorities have

all but unanimously pronounced for All's Well that Ends Well;' but it must be admitted that the case is not a strong one, as the same incident which obtains the preference in this play occurs in 'Measure for Measure,' which therefore has equal claims; for Isabella aids Mariana to circumvent Angelo, exactly as Diana assists Helena to win Bertram. The name of Mariana is borne by a character in both dramas, and their development brings out coincidences which further assimilate their pretensions. No such objection applies to The Taming of the Shrew,' which has never been mentioned as the play, but with every deference for the weight of authority on the side of All's Well that Ends Well,' we venture to submit that it has a superior claim. It does not appear in the list of Meres, but we know that it was acted at Henslowe's Theatre in 1593, and as the stage was already in possession of a drama called 'The Taming of a Shrew,' on which it was founded, there was a reason for giving it another title. Certainly the incidents of the piece-the series of mortifications by which Petrucio conquers the temper and wins the love of Katherina, may more properly be called "labours" than the stratagem adopted in common by Helena and Mariana; and, in fact, the task is placed in that light by Gremio,

"Yea, leave that LABOUR to great Hercules,
And let it be more than Alcides' twelve."

The triumphs that exalted Shakespeare before the world did not raise his estimation of himself, still less infect him with the proud man's contumely. They rather brought him to see the emptiness of worldly distinctions, which no mau ever more contemned, and to look down kindly from his eminence on all below. Those noble thoughts, which open to us every virtue-those melting sentiments which bring home the tender pleadings of nature to the hardest breast1 Taming of the Shrew,' act i. 2.

those exhortations to pious trust in Heaven, and gentle dealing with our fellow-man, are linked in our minds with him, self, and make us regard him as a counsellor and friend. Here is the secret of his world-wide influence; reaching every age, and not more recognized by the scholar in his closet than by the unwashed artisan in the playhouse gallery. We see that he is in earnest, and the heartiness of his sentiments embodies them to the eye, and attests his own participation. An instance has come down to us, indeed, of the manner in which he carried them, like the creations of his genius, into real life, and made them a part of his being. One morning he joined the actors at the theatre just as they were dismissing a literary aspirant whose play had been rejected, and saw him turn away with a despairing look. All his kind feelings were instantly aroused. He requested to see the manuscript, and we may imagine with what anxiety the author watched his countenance as he placed it in his hands, knowing that he alone was interested in his exclusion. But such petty instincts never swayed Shakespeare. A moment satisfied him that the play deserved attention; and perusal having confirmed the impression, he not only procured its acceptance at the theatre, but undertook the principal part. This is the only instance on record of one literary man befriending another without some previous acquaintance; but the Unknown was Ben Jonson, and the benefactor Shakespeare.

While rendering deeds of kindness to strangers, he discharged the highest filial duty in smoothing the declining years of his father. In 1601 John Shakespeare shuffled off this mortal coil. As he was a householder in Stratford in 1552, we may accept Malone's conclusion that he was born before 1530, which gives him a life of three score and ten, and something to spare. His burial is noted in the Stratford register" 1601, September 8, Mr. Johanes Shakspeare”–

and his son has been censured for not placing a stone over his grave. Who is to say that he is open to this imputation? The oldest stone now in the churchyard bears the date of 1675, so that all before that time have been removed; and, indeed, it has been customary to take away the obliterated stones from an early period. There is thus no proof that the grave was left without a memorial; and we refuse to believe that Shakespeare, who was so thoughtful for the living, forgot what was due to the dead."

1 The Rev. G. Granville, the present excellent Vicar of Stratford, has sent me the following note on this subject:-"Several stones were removed many years ago of families that had long been gone, and were used to extend a walk on each side of the church after the soil had been taken away. None have been removed in my time, except such as had lost the inscription from age."

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XXVI.

SHAKESPEARE AT COURT.

NONE of the traditions about Shakespeare have so strangely survived as those which connect him with Queen Elizabeth. That she was an admirer of his productions we know indeed from one of his contemporaries, and no one can question what is sung by Ben Jonson :—

"Sweet swan of Avon, what a sight it were

To see thee in our waters yet appear,

And make those flights, upon the banks of Thames,
That so did take Eliza and our James."

But the instances of her manifestation of this interest come to us we know not whence, far as they may be traced back, and though the lapse of three centuries leaves them fresh, History forgot her office, and dropped a brilliant thread, in omitting them from her record. Such an association, indeed, adds majesty to the character of Elizabeth and lustre to her reign, even though we cannot picture her as sitting, in the manner of Augustus, with Shakespeare on one side of her board, and Spenser on the other.

We have seen that it was by the Bridge of Sighs that Shakespeare, inverting the Venetian tradition, passed from the prison of his father to the palace. He probably first became known to the Queen by his compliment in 'Love's Labour's Lost,' which was no doubt delivered by himself, as he always played the King, and the speech falls to Oberon. But it is not till we hear of 'The Merry Wives of Windsor,'