"TO THE READER

"And hither am I comeA Prologue arm'd, but not in confidence,Of Authors' pen, or Actors' voyce."

The most interesting bit of evidence to show that Shakespeare and Jonson remained friends, even in the heat of the conflict, may be gained from the "Poetaster" itself if we admit that the Virgil of the play, who is chosen peacemaker stands for Shakespeare; and who so fit to be peacemaker as Shakespeare for his amiable qualities seem to have impressed themselves upon all who knew him.

Following Mr. Lee's lead, "Jonson figures personally in the 'Poetaster' under the name of Horace. Episodically Horace and his friends, Tibullus and Gallus, eulogize the work and genius of another character, Virgil, in terms so closely resembling those which Jonson is known to have applied to Shakespeare that they may be regarded as intended to apply to him (Act V, Scene I). Jonson points49out that Virgil, by his penetrating intuition, achieved the great effects which others laboriously sought to reach through rules of art.

'His learning labors not the school-like glossThat most consists of echoing words and terms ...Nor any long or far-fetched circumstance—Wrapt in the curious generalities of arts—But a direct and analytic sumOf all the worth and first effects of art.And for his poesy, 'tis so rammed with lifeThat it shall gather strength of life with being,And live hereafter, more admired than now.'

Tibullusgives Virgil equal credit for having in his writings touched with telling truth upon every vicissitude of human existence:

'That which he hath writIs with such judgment labored and distilledThrough all the needful uses of our livesThat, could a man remember but his lines,He should not touch at any serious pointBut he might breathe his spirit out of him.'

"Finally, Virgil in the play is nominated by Cæsar to act as judge between Horace and his libellers, and he advises the administration of purging pills to the offenders."

This neat little chain of evidence would have no weak link, if it were not for a passage in the play, "The Return from Parnassus,"50acted by the students in St. John's College the same year, 1601. In this there is a dialogue between Shakespeare's fellow-actors, Burbage and Kempe. Speaking of the University dramatists, Kempe says:

"Why here's our fellow Shakespeare puts them all down; aye, and Ben Jonson, too. O! that Ben Jonson is a pestilent fellow. He brought up Horace, giving the poets a pill; but our fellow Shakespeare hath given him a purge that made him bewray his credit." Burbage continues, "He is a shrewd fellow indeed." This has, of course, been taken to mean that Shakespeare was actively against Jonson in the Dramatists' and Actors' war. But as everything else points, as we have seen, to the contrary, one accepts gladly the loophole of escape offered by Mr. Lee. "The words quoted from 'The Return from Parnassus' hardly admit of a literal interpretation. Probably the 'purge' that Shakespeare was alleged by the author of 'The Return from Parnassus' to have given Jonson meant no more than that Shakespeare had signally outstripped Jonson in popular esteem." That this was an actual fact is proved by the lines of Leonard Digges, an admiring contemporary of Shakespeare's, printed in the 1640 edition of Shakespeare's poems, com51paring "Julius Cæsar" and Jonson's play "Cataline:"

"So have I seen when Cæsar would appear,And on the stage at half-sword parley wereBrutus and Cassius—oh, how the audienceWere ravish'd, with what wonder they went thence;When some new day they would not brook a lineOf tedious, though well-labored, Cataline."

This reminds one of the famous witticism attributed to Eudymion Porter that "Shakespeare was sent from Heaven and Ben from College."

If Jonson's criticisms of Shakespeare's work were sometime not wholly appreciative, the fact may be set down to the distinction between the two here so humorously indicated. "A Winter's Tale" and the "Tempest" both called forth some sarcasms from Jonson, the first for its error about the Coast of Bohemia which Shakespeare borrowed from Greene. Jonson wrote in the Induction to "Bartholemew Fair;" "If there be never a servant-monster in the Fair, who can help it he says? Nor a nest of Antics. He is loth to make nature afraid in his plays like those that beget Tales, Tempests, and such like Drolleries." The allusions here are very evidently to Caliban and the satyrs who figure in52the sheep-shearing feast in "A Winter's Tale." The worst blast of all, however, occurs in Jonson's "Timber," but the blows are evidently given with a loving hand. He writes "I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare that, in his writing, whatsoever he penn'd, hee never blotted out line. My answer hath beene, would he had blotted a thousand;—which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this, but for their ignorance who choose that circumstance to commend their friend by wherein he most faulted; and to justifie mine owne candor,—for I lov'd the man, and doe honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. Hee was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature; had an excellent phantasie; brave notions and gentle expressions; wherein hee flow'd with that facility that sometime it was necessary he should be stop'd;—sufflaminandus erat, as Augustus said of Haterius. His wit was in his owne power;—would the rule of it had beene so too! Many times he fell into those things, could not escape laughter; as when he said in the person of Cæsar, one speaking to him,—Cæsar thou dost me wrong; hee replyed,—Cæsar did never wrong but with just cause; and such like; which were53ridiculous. But hee redeemed his vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praysed then to be pardoned."

And even this criticism is altogether controverted by the wholly eulogistic lines Jonson wrote for the First Folio edition ofShakespeareprinted in 1623, "To the memory of my beloved, The Author Mr. William Shakespeare and what he hath left us."[1]

For the same edition he also wrote the following lines for the portrait reproduced in this volume, which it is safe to regard as the Shakespeare Ben Jonson remembered:

This Figure, that thou here seest put,It was for gentle Shakespeare cut;Wherein the Graver had a strifeWith Nature, to out-doo the life:O, could he but have drawne his witAs well in brasse, as he hath hitHis face; the Print would then surpasseAll, that was ever writ in brasse.But, since he cannot, Reader, lookeNot on his Picture, but his Booke.

B. J."

Shakespeare's talk in "At the'Mermaid'" grows out of the supposition, not touched upon54until the very last line that Ben Jonson had been calling him "Next Poet," a supposition quite justifiable in the light of Ben's praises of him. The poem also reflects the love and admiration in which Shakespeare the man was held by all who have left any record of their impressions of him. As for the portraiture of the poet's attitude of mind, it is deduced indirectly from his work. That he did not desire to become "Next Poet" may be argued from the fact that after his first outburst of poem and sonnet writing in the manner of the poets of the age, he gave up the career of gentleman-poet to devote himself wholly to the more independent if not so socially distinguished one of actor-playwright. "Venus and Adonis" and "Lucrece" were the only poems of his published under his supervision and the only works with the dedication to a patron such as it was customary to write at that time.

I have before me as I write the recent Clarendon Press fac-similes of "Venus and Adonis" and "Lucrece," published respectively in 1593 and 1594,—beautiful little quartos with exquisitely artistic designs in the title-pages, headpieces and initials; altogether worthy of a poet who might have designs upon Fame. The dedication to the first reads:—

55"to the right honorableHenry Wriothesley, Earle of Southamptonand Baron of Litchfield

Right Honourable, I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolisht lines to your Lordship, nor how the worlde will censure mee for choosing so strong a proppe to support so weake a burthen, onelye if your Honour seeme but pleased, I account my selfe highly praised, and vowe to take advantage of all idle houres, till I have honoured you with some great labour. But if the first heire of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorie it had so noble a god-father: and never after eare so barren a land, for feare it yield me still so bad a harvest, I leave it to your Honourable Survey, and your Honor to your hearts content, which I wish may alwaies answere your owne wish, and the worlds hopeful expectation.

Your Honors in all dutieWilliam Shakespeare."

The second reads:—

"TO THE RIGHThonorable, henryWriothesley, Earle of Southamptonand Baron of Litchfield

The love I dedicate to your Lordship is without end: wherof this Pamphlet without be56ginning is a superfluous Moiety. The warrant I have of your Honourable disposition, nor the worth of my untutored Lines makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours, what I have to doe is yours, being part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duety would shew greater, meane time, as it is, it is bound to your Lordship; To whom I wish long life still lengthened with all happinesse.

Your Lordships in all duety.William Shakespeare."

No more after this does Shakespeare appear in the light of a poet with a patron. Even the sonnets, some of which evidently celebrate Southampton, were issued by a piratical publisher without Shakespeare's consent, while his plays found their way into print at the hands of other pirates who cribbed them from stage copies.

Such hints as these have been worked up by Browning into a consistent characterization of a man who regards himself as having foregone his chances of laureateship or "Next Poet" by devoting himself to a form of literary art which would not appeal to the powers that be as fitting him for any such position. Such honors he claims do not go to57the dramatic poet, who has never allowed the world to slip inside his breast, but has simply portrayed the joy and the sorrow of life as he saw it around him, and with an art which turns even sorrow into beauty.—"Do I stoop? I pluck a posy, do I stand and stare? all's blue;"—but to the subjective, introspective poet, out of tune with himself and with the universe. The allusions Shakespeare makes to the last "King" are not very definite, but, on the whole, they fit Edmund Spenser, whose poems from first to last are dedicated to people of distinction in court circles. His work, moreover, is full of wailing and woe in various keys, and also full of self-revelation. He allowed the world to slip inside his breast upon almost every occasion, and perhaps he may be said to have bought "his laurel," for it was no doubt extremely gratifying to Queen Elizabeth to see herself in the guise of the Faerie Queene, and even his dedication of the "Faerie Queene" to her, used as she was to flattery, must have been as music in her ears. "To the most high, mightie, and magnificent Empresse, renouned for piety, vertue, and all gratious government, Elizabeth, by the Grace of God, Queene of England, Frahnce, and Ireland and of Virginia. Defender of the Faith, &c. Her most humble servant Edmund58Spenser doth in all humilitie, Dedicate, present, and consecrate These his labours, To live with the eternity of her Fame." The next year Spenser received a pension from the crown of fifty pounds per annum.

It is a careful touch on Browning's part to use the phrase "Next Poet," for the "laureateship" at that time was not a recognized official position. The term, "laureate," seems to have been used to designate poets who had attained fame and Royal favor, since Nash speaks of Spenser in his "Supplication of Piers Pennilesse" the same year the "Faerie Queene" was published as next laureate.

The first really officially appointed Poet Laureate was Ben Jonson, himself, who in either 1616 or 1619 received the post from James I., later ratified by Charles I., who increased the annuity to one hundred pounds a year and a butt of wine from the King's cellars.

Probably the allusion "Your Pilgrim" in the twelfth stanza of "At the Mermaid" is to "The Return from Parnassus" in which the pilgrims to Parnassus who figure in an earlier play "The Pilgrimage to Parnassus" discover the world to be about as dismal a place as it is described in this stanza.

At first sight it might seem that the position59taken by Shakespeare in the poem is almost too modest, yet upon second thoughts it will be remembered that though Shakespeare had a tremendous following among the people, attested by the frequency with which his plays were acted; that though there are instances of his being highly appreciated by contemporaries of importance; that though his plays were given before the Queen, he did not have the universal acceptance among learned and court circles which was accorded to Spenser.

It is quite fitting that the scene should be set in the "Mermaid." No record exists to show that Shakespeare was ever there, it is true, but the "Mermaid" was a favorite haunt of Ben Jonson and his circle of wits, whose meetings there were immortalized by Beaumont in his poetical letter to Jonson:—

"What things have we seenDone at the Mermaid? heard words that have beenSo nimble and so full of subtle flame,As if that every one from whence they cameHad meant to put his whole wit in a jest,And had resolved to live a fool the restOf his dull life."

Add to this what Fuller wrote in his "Worthies," 1662, "Many were the wit-combats betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which60two I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning, solid but slow in his performances. Shakespeare, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds by the quickness of his wit and invention," and there is sufficient poetic warrant for the "Mermaid" setting.

First Folio Portrait of Shakespeare"Do I stoop? I pluck a posy.Do I stand and stare? All's blue."

First Folio Portrait of Shakespeare

"Do I stoop? I pluck a posy.Do I stand and stare? All's blue."

The final touch is given in the hint that all the time Shakespeare is aware of his own greatness, perhaps to be recognized by a future age.

Let Browning, himself, now show what he has done with the material.

The figure that thou here seest.... Tut!Was it for gentle Shakespeare put?B. Jonson.(Adapted.)

I—"Next Poet?" No, my hearties,I nor am nor fain would be!Choose your chiefs and pick your parties,Not one soul revolt to me!I, forsooth, sow song-sedition?I, a schism in verse provoke?I, blown up by bard's ambition,Burst—your bubble-king? You joke.

Come, be grave! The sherris mantlingStill about each mouth, mayhap,Breeds you insight—just a scantling—Brings me truth out—just a scrap.Look and tell me! Written, spoken,Here's my life-long work: and where—Where's your warrant or my tokenI'm the dead king's son and heir?

Here's my work: does work discover—What was rest from work—my life?Did I live man's hater, lover?Leave the world at peace, at strife?Call earth ugliness or beauty?See things there in large or small?Use to pay its Lord my duty?Use to own a lord at all?

Blank of such a record, trulyHere's the work I hand, this scroll,Yours to take or leave; as duly,Mine remains the unproffered soul.So much, no whit more, my debtors—How should one like me lay claimTo that largess elders, bettersSell you cheap their souls for—fame?

Which of you did I enableOnce to slip inside my breast,62There to catalogue and labelWhat I like least, what love best,Hope and fear, believe and doubt of,Seek and shun, respect—deride?Who has right to make a rout ofRarities he found inside?

Rarities or, as he'd rather,Rubbish such as stocks his own:Need and greed (O strange) the FatherFashioned not for him alone!Whence—the comfort set a-strutting,Whence—the outcry "Haste, behold!Bard's breast open wide, past shutting,Shows what brass we took for gold!"

Friends, I doubt not he'd display youBrass—myself call orichalc,—Furnish much amusement; pray youTherefore, be content I balkHim and you, and bar my portal!Here's my work outside: opineWhat's inside me mean and mortal!Take your pleasure, leave me mine!

Which is—not to buy your laurelAs last king did, nothing loth.Tale adorned and pointed moralGained him praise and pity both.63Out rushed sighs and groans by dozens,Forth by scores oaths, curses flew:Proving you were cater-cousins,Kith and kindred, king and you!

Whereas do I ne'er so little(Thanks to sherris) leave ajarBosom's gate—no jot nor tittleGrow we nearer than we are.Sinning, sorrowing, despairing,Body-ruined, spirit-wrecked,—Should I give my woes an airing,—Where's one plague that claims respect?

Have you found your life distasteful?My life did, and does, smack sweet.Was your youth of pleasure wasteful?Mine I saved and hold complete.Do your joys with age diminish?When mine fail me, I'll complain.Must in death your daylight finish?My sun sets to rise again.

What, like you, he proved—your Pilgrim—This our world a wilderness,Earth still grey and heaven still grim,Not a hand there his might press,Not a heart his own might throb to,Men all rogues and women—say,Dolls which boys' heads duck and bob to,Grown folk drop or throw away?

My experience being other,How should I contribute verseWorthy of your king and brother?Balaam-like I bless, not curse.I find earth not grey but rosy,Heaven not grim but fair of hue.Do I stoop? I pluck a posy.Do I stand and stare? All's blue.

Doubtless I am pushed and shoved byRogues and fools enough: the moreGood luck mine, I love, am loved bySome few honest to the core.Scan the near high, scout the far low!"But the low come close:" what then?Simpletons? My match is Marlowe;Sciolists? My mate is Ben.

Womankind—"the cat-like nature,False and fickle, vain and weak"—What of this sad nomenclatureSuits my tongue, if I must speak?Does the sex invite, repulse so,Tempt, betray, by fits and starts?So becalm but to convulse so,Decking heads and breaking hearts?

Well may you blaspheme at fortune!I "threw Venus" (Ben, expound!)65Never did I need importuneHer, of all the Olympian round.Blessings on my benefactress!Cursings suit—for aught I know—Those who twitched her by the back tress,Tugged and thought to turn her—so!

Therefore, since no leg to stand onThus I'm left with,—joy or griefBe the issue,—I abandonHope or care you name me Chief!Chief and king and Lord's anointed,I?—who never once have wishedDeath before the day appointed:Lived and liked, not poohed and pished!

"Ah, but so I shall not enter,Scroll in hand, the common heart—Stopped at surface: since at centreSong should reachWelt-schmerz, world-smart!""Enter in the heart?" Its shellyCuirass guard mine, fore and aft!Such song "enters in the bellyAnd is cast out in the draught."

Back then to our sherris-brewage!"Kingship" quotha? I shall wait—Waive the present time: some new age ...But let fools anticipate!66Meanwhile greet me—"friend, good fellow,Gentle Will," my merry men!As for making Envy yellowWith "Next Poet"—(Manners, Ben!)

The first stanza of "House"—

"Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself?Do I live in a house you would like to see?Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf?'Unlock my heart with a sonnet-key?'"—

brings one face to face with the interminable controversies upon the autobiographical significance of Shakespeare's Sonnets. As volumes upon the subject have been written, it is not possible even adequately to review the various theories here. The controversialists may be broadly divided into those who read complicated autobiographical details into the sonnets, those who scout the idea of their being autobiographical at all, and those who take a middle ground. Of the first there are two factions: one of these believes that the opening sonnets were addressed to Lord William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, and the other that they were addressed to Shakespeare's patron, the Earl of Southampton. The first theory dates back as far as 1832 when it was started by James Boaden, a journalist and the biographer of67Kemble and Mrs. Siddons. This theory has had many supporters and is associated to-day with the name of Thomas Tyler, who, in his edition of the Sonnets published in 1890, claimed to have identified the dark lady of the Sonnets with a lady of the Court, Mary Fitton and the mistress of the Earl of Pembroke. The theory, like most things of the sort, has its fascinations, and few people can read the Sonnets without being more or less impressed by it. It is based, however, upon a supposition so unlikely that it may be said to be proved incorrect, namely, that the dedication of the Sonnets to their "Onlie Begettor, Mr. W. H." is intended for "Mr. William Herbert." There was a Mr. William Hall, later a master printer, and the friend of Thomas Thorpe, the publisher of the Sonnets, who is much more likely to be the person meant. Lord Herbert was far too important a person to be addressed as Mr. W. H. As Mr. Lee points out, when Thorpe did dedicate books to Herbert he was careful to give full prominence to the titles and distinction of his patron. The Sonnets as we have already seen were not published with Shakespeare's sanction. In those days the author had no protection, and if a manuscript fell into the hands of a printer he could print it if he felt68so disposed. Mr. William Hall was in the habit of looking out for manuscripts and before he became a printer, in 1606, had one published by Southwell of which he himself wrote the dedication, to the "Vertuous Gentleman, Mathew Saunders, Esquire W. H. wisheth, with long life, a prosperous achievement of his good desires." "There is little doubt," writes Mr. Lee, "that the W. H. of the Southwell volume was Mr. William Hall, who, when he procured that manuscript for publication, was an humble auxiliary in the publishing army." To sum up in Mr. Lee's words his interesting and convincing chapter on "Thomas Thorpe and Mr. 'W. H.'" "'Mr. W. H.,' whom Thorpe described as the 'only begetter of these ensuing sonnets,' was in all probability the acquirer or procurer of the manuscript, who, figuratively speaking, brought the book into being either by first placing the manuscript in Thorpe's hands or by pointing out the means by which a copy might be acquired. To assign such significance to the word 'begetter' was entirely in Thorpe's vein. Thorpe described his rôle in the piratical enterprise of the 'Sonnets' as that of 'the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth,'i.e., the hopeful speculator in the scheme. 'Mr. W. H.' doubtless69played the almost equally important part—one as well known then as now in commercial operations—of the 'vender' of the property to be exploited."

The Southampton theory is reared into a fine air-castle by Gerald Massey in his lengthy book on the Sonnets—truly entertaining reading but too ingenious to be convincing.

Finally Mr. Lee in his book looks at the subject in an unbiased and perfectly sane way. He thinks the opening Sonnets are to the Earl of Southampton, known to beShakespeare'spatron, but he warns us that exaggerated devotion was the hall-mark of the Sonnets of the age, and therefore what Shakespeare says of his young patron in these Sonnets need not be taken too literally as expressing the poet's sentiments, though he admits there may be a note of genuine feeling in them. Also he thinks that some of the sonnets reflecting moods of melancholy or a sense of sin may reveal the writer's inner consciousness. Possibly, too, the story of the "dark lady" may have some basis in fact, though he insists, "There is no clue to the lady's identity, and speculation on the topic is useless." Furthermore, he thinks it doubtful whether all the words in these Sonnets are to be taken with the seriousness implied, the affair70probably belonging only to the annals of gallantry.

It will be seen from the poem that Browning took the uncompromisingly non-autobiographical view of the Sonnets. In this stand present authoritative opinion would not justify him, but it speaks well for his insight and sympathy that he was not fascinated by the William Herbert theory which, at the time he wrote the poem, was very much in the air.

In "Shop" is given, in a way, the obverse side of the idea. If it is proved that the dramatic poet does not allow himself to appear in his work, the step toward regarding him as having no individuality aside from his work is an easy one. The allusions in the poem to the mercenariness of the "Shop-Keeper" seem to hit at the criticisms of Shakespeare's thrift, which enabled him to buy a home in his native place and retire there to live some years before the end of his life. In some quarters it has been customary to regard Shakespeare as devoting himself to dramatic literature in order to make money, as if this were a terrible slur on his character. The superiority of such an independent spirit over that of those who constantly sought patrons was quite manifest to Browning's mind or he would not have written this sarcastic bit of71symbolism, between the lines of which can be read that Browning was on Shakespeare's side.

Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself?Do I live in a house you would like to see?Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf?"Unlock my heart with a sonnet key?"

Invite the world, as my betters have done?"Take notice: this building remains on view,Its suites of reception every one,Its private apartment and bedroom too;

"For a ticket, apply to the Publisher."No: thanking the public, I must decline.A peep through my window, if folk prefer;But, please you, no foot over threshold of mine!

I have mixed with a crowd and heard free talkIn a foreign land where an earthquake chanced:And a house stood gaping, nought to balkMan's eye wherever he gazed or glanced.

The whole of the frontage shaven sheer,The inside gaped: exposed to day,Right and wrong and common and queer,Bare, as the palm of your hand, it lay.

The owner? Oh, he had been crushed, no doubt!"Odd tables and chairs for a man of wealth!What a parcel of musty old books about!He smoked,—no wonder he lost his health!

"I doubt if he bathed before he dressed.A brasier?—the pagan, he burned perfumes!You see it is proved, what the neighbors guessed:His wife and himself had separate rooms."

Friends, the goodman of the house at leastKept house to himself till an earthquake came:'Tis the fall of its frontage permits you feastOn the inside arrangement you praise or blame.

Outside should suffice for evidence:And whoso desires to penetrateDeeper, must dive by the spirit-sense—No optics like yours, at any rate!

"Hoity toity! A street to explore,Your house the exception! 'With this same keyShakespeare unlocked his heart,' once more!"Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!

So, friend, your shop was all your house!Its front, astonishing the street,73Invited view from man and mouseTo what diversity of treatBehind its glass—the single sheet!

What gimcracks, genuine Japanese:Gape-jaw and goggle-eye, the frog;Dragons, owls, monkeys, beetles, geese;Some crush-nosed, human-hearted dog:Queer names, too, such a catalogue!

I thought "And he who owns the wealthWhich blocks the window's vastitude,—Ah, could I peep at him by stealthBehind his ware, pass shop, intrudeOn house itself, what scenes were viewed!

"If wide and showy thus the shop,What must the habitation prove?The true house with no name a-top—The mansion, distant one remove,Once get him off his traffic-groove!

"Pictures he likes, or books perhaps;And as for buying most and best,Commend me to these City chaps!Or else he's social, takes his restOn Sundays, with a Lord for guest.

"Some suburb-palace, parked aboutAnd gated grandly, built last year:74The four-mile walk to keep off gout;Or big seat sold by bankrupt peer:But then he takes the rail, that's clear.

"Or, stop! I wager, taste selectsSome out o' the way, some all-unknownRetreat: the neighborhood suspectsLittle that he who rambles loneMakes Rothschild tremble on his throne!"

Nowise! Nor Mayfair residenceFit to receive and entertain,—Nor Hampstead villa's kind defenceFrom noise and crowd, from dust and drain,—Nor country-box was soul's domain!

Nowise! At back of all that spreadOf merchandize, woe's me, I findA hole i' the wall where, heels by head,The owner couched, his ware behind,—In cupboard suited to his mind.

For why? He saw no use of lifeBut, while he drove a roaring trade,To chuckle "Customers are rife!"To chafe "So much hard cash outlaidYet zero in my profits made!

"This novelty costs pains, but—takes?Cumbers my counter! Stock no more!75This article, no such great shakes,Fizzes like wildfire? UnderscoreThe cheap thing—thousands to the fore!"

'Twas lodging best to live most nigh(Cramp, coffinlike as crib might be)Receipt of Custom; ear and eyeWanted no outworld: "Hear and seeThe bustle in the shop!" quoth he.

My fancy of a merchant-princeWas different. Through his wares we gropedOur darkling way to—not to minceThe matter—no black den where mopedThe master if we interloped!

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