"sack up" the verses on Combe, has deprived us of the benefit of receiving what Shakespeare really wrote on his friend. These, perhaps, will never be recovered, but it is worthy of remark that a different version of the anecdote is related in MS. Ashmole 38, p. 180,* written not many years after the death of Shakespeare, On John Combe, a coveteous rich man, Mr. Wm. Shak-spear wright this att his request while hee was yett liveing for his epitaphe, Who lies in this tombe? Hough, quoth the devill, tis my sone John a Combe. Finis. But being dead and making the poore his heiers, hee after wrightes this for his epitaph. Howere he lived, judge not, John Combe shall never be forgott While poor hath memmorye, for hee did gather As record of his tilth and seedes, Did crowne him in his latter needes. Finis W. Shak. Peck, in his New Memoirs of Milton, 1740, has preserved another tale, in which it is stated that Shakespeare wrote another satirical epitaph on the brother of John Combe. It is equally authentic with the former. Every body," he says, "knows Shakespeare's epitaph for John a Combe, and I am told he afterwards wrote another for Tom a Combe, alias Thin-beard, brother of the said John, and that it was never yet printed." This second composition is in the following strain, Thin in beard, and thick in purse, Never man beloved worse; He went to th' grave with many a curse: The devil and he had both one nurse. * This curious extract was first published by me in 1841, in "An Introduction to Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream," 8vo. It will be observed that the composers of this and other similar stanzas attributed to the bard, among which may be included the vulgar lines over his grave, are never satisfied without introducing his Satanic majesty on the scene, or, at We must not so the least, his ordinary legacy, a curse. readily deprive our poet of his contemporary epithet, the gentle Shakespeare; for none of these can safely be assigned to his pen. It is however, worth adding, that in the last century there was a traditionary tale current at Stratford, which included the verses on John and Thomas Combe, and in which they are introduced somewhat differently from the narratives just given. Mr. Combe and the bard of Stratford were intimately acquainted; the former one day in a tavern, said to be the sign of the Bear, in the Bridge street, in Stratford, said to the other, "I suppose you will write my epitaph when I am dead; you may as well do it now, that I may know what you will say of me when I am gone." Immediately he replied, "It shall be this, "Ten in the hundred, &c.'" The company instantly burst into a loud laugh, perhaps from the justness of the idea, and the hatred all men have to the character of a miser and usurer: the violence of the mirth somewhat subsiding, they desired to hear what he had to say of Mr. Thomas Combe, brother of the former gentleman, when he instantly said, "But thin in beard, &c." This brother was remarkable for the thinness of his beard, and no doubt also for his covetous disposition; therefore the poignancy of the sarcasm afforded no small diversion amongst the convivial meeting; but it is said the severity of this satire made so deep an impression upon the two brothers, that they never forgave the author of their epitaphs. Another traditionary anecdote has likewise been stated to refer to Combe, but the best version of it introduces a blacksmith as the chief actor, and Combe's name does not appear. A blacksmith accosted Shakespeare, as he was leaning over a mercer's door, with Now, Mr. Shakespeare, tell me, if you can, The difference between a youth and a young man. To which the poet immediately replied, Thou son of fire, with thy face like a maple, The same difference as between a scalded and a coddled apple. this anecdote was re According to Malone, in 1790, lated near fifty years ago to a gentleman at Stratford, by a person then above eighty years of age, whose father might have been contemporary with Shakespeare." I have, however, seen an unpublished letter, written by Malone in 1788, in which the following account of this tradition is given. Mr. Macklin tells but a blind story of Sir Hugh Clopton's having sent for a very old woman, near ninety, who repeated to him a couplet that she remembered to have heard in her youth, and which was said to have been made by Shakspeare on old John Combe, in which he compared his face to a maple. I gave no great credit to this at first, but having yesterday found the same satirical comparison in a book of Queen Elizabeth's age, I begin to be less incredulous. Perhaps Mr. Taylor may remember this old woman. It is certain much tradition might have been handed down about our great poet, for the mother of the very old woman I speak of might have been a servant to his daughter Mrs. Queeny, and have heard many particulars from her so late as the Restoration, but unfortunately the last age was not an age of curiosity or inquiry. The old work to which Malone referred in confirmation of this anecdote was, Tarltons Jests drawne into these three parts, his court-witty jests, his sound city jests, his countrey-pretty jests, full of delight, wit, and honest mirth,' 4to. 1638, first published in 1600, and also containing an anecdote (sig. B 2) in which a person's face is compared to a maple. A jest of an apple hitting Tarlton on the face. Tarlton having flouted the fellow for his pippin which hee threw, hee thought to bee meet with Tarlton at length, so in the play Tarltons part was to travell, who kneeling down to aske his father blessing, the fellow threw an apple at him, which hit him on the cheek. Tarlton, taking up the apple, made this jest: Gentlemen, this fellow, with this face of mapple, But as for an apple, he hath cast a crab, So, instead of an honest woman, God hath sent him a drab. The people laughed heartily, for he had a quean to his wife. It is worthy of remark that a similar comparison is used by Shakespeare, "this grained face of mine;" and considering that the genealogy of the tale is very correctly deduced by Malone, there may by possibility have been some foundation for it. At all events, it is of better authority than the anecdotes relating to Shakespeare that found their way into the jest books of the last century, a few of which, as specimens of what people dared to father on the clarum et venerabile nomen of Shakespeare, I give in a note* from a rare volume in the library of George Daniel, Esq. * A gentleman being choaked with a honeycomb, his friends began to bemoan him. Why make you such lamentation, said Shakespear, never man had a sweeter death. A country gentleman once telling Shakespear he was surprized there was so many pickpockets in London, seeing there was a watch at every corner. Pough, replies Shakespear, they are as glad of a watch as any else. Shakespear being at church when a dry empty fellow preached most of his auditors out of the church, said he made a very moving sermon. Shakespear being with a set of merry companions over a chearful bowl, when different toasts were going round, a gentleman whose name was Brown toasted an absent lady, which he had often done for many years, tho he never had the courage to speak to her. Our wag, who sat next him, said, I believe, sir, you have toasted that lady these seven years at least, and it's surprizing she is not brown yet. Shakespear being in company with some gentlemen and ladies who were playing at comparison, an agreeable young lady was likened to a repeater. She appealed to Shakespear for the propriety of the resemblance. Madam, says he, I find a very great difference; a repeater makes us remember the hours, but you make us forget them. Shakespear having brought his friend down into his cellar, his friend observing there was no seat to sit upon, asked him the reason of it: because, reply'd Shakespear, I will have no man that comes here drink any longer than he can stand. Shakespear being told by a gentleman that players were idle fellows; you are mistaken, says our wag, for their whole life is full of action. A pert coxcomb in company with Shakespear, rising from his chair, said saucily, know, Mr. Wag, I set up for a wit. Oh, do you so, says Shakespear, then take my advice and sit down again. Shakespear's Jests, or the Jubilee Jester, 8vo. [1769.] Another tradition must be noticed, as one of the few that are still current at Stratford. It was credited by the elder Ireland, who has given us a representation of Shakespeare's crab-tree, a supposititious relic now departed, and not worthy of being perpetuated. Amongst the many juvenile levities of Shakspeare, I cannot omit delineating some other traits of his character; tradition says that he loved hearty draughts f English beer or ale, and that there were then two companies of people who isually met at a village called Bidford, about seven miles below Stratford, upon he banks of the Avon, who distinguished themselves by the appellations of the topers and sippers, the former of whom were accounted the most eminent in the science of drinking the largest quantity of liquor without being intoxicated; yet the latter were also very powerful, and looked on themselves superior to most other companies of drinkers in this country. These sons of Bacchus challenged all the men in England to drink with them, to try the strength of their heads; the Stratford bard and his companions accepted it, and repaired to Bidford on a Whitsun Monday to make a trial with the topers, but, to their disappointment, they discovered that they were gone to Evesham Fair upon a like excursion; so the Stratfordians with Shakspeare were obliged to take up with the sippers, who they scoffed at as unworthy the contest; but upon trial they found themselves very inferior to their opponents, and were at last obliged to own their superiority, for the poet and his companions got so intoxicated, that they were obliged to decline any further trial; and, leaving Bidford, they proceeded homeward; but poor William, when he came about half a mile from the village, unable to go on, laid himself down upon the verdant turf, beneath the umbrageous boughs of a wide spreading crab-tree, where he took his night's repose; the lark's early matins awaked him, and he was invited to return to Bidford by some of his convivial companions to renew the contest, but he refused; says he, I have drank with Piping Pebworth, Dancing Marston, Haunted Hillborough, and hungry Grafton, These lines seem to intimate that the opponents consisted of a motley group selected from the above villages; Pebworth is still celebrated for the skill of its inhabitants in music and rural festivity; and Long Marston, or Marston Sicca (as it is commonly wrote), the inhabitants of which are noted for their activity in country dances; and Hillborough is a lonely hamlet, said by the tradition of the vicinage to have been haunted by spirits and fairies: Hungry Grafton, I suppose, received that appellation from the barrenness of its soil; but, however that may be, the produce of its excellent stone quarries make sufficient amends for the |