. Shakespeare's love story, 1580-1609. m the Bible readingin the church, he stores away in mem-ory tales of moving pathos or strikingincident, such as The Prodigal Son,Jacob and Laban, Lazarus and Dives,and others like unto them. On winter [«7] SHAKESPEARE S LOVE STORY nights he creeps in unnoticed bythe old gossips at the fireside tolisten to their weird tales and ghostlyfables Of woful ages long ago betid. And so, with mind full and runningover with stories of wonderful combats,of courageous knights, of noble dames,of chaste and constant ladies, of puissantprinces, he too must needs express
. Shakespeare's love story, 1580-1609. m the Bible readingin the church, he stores away in mem-ory tales of moving pathos or strikingincident, such as The Prodigal Son,Jacob and Laban, Lazarus and Dives,and others like unto them. On winter [«7] SHAKESPEARE S LOVE STORY nights he creeps in unnoticed bythe old gossips at the fireside tolisten to their weird tales and ghostlyfables Of woful ages long ago betid. And so, with mind full and runningover with stories of wonderful combats,of courageous knights, of noble dames,of chaste and constant ladies, of puissantprinces, he too must needs express him-self. He too will write a sonnet; hetoo will choose a lady fair as Petrarchchose his Laura, as the Earl of Surreyhis Geraldine. To her will he sing allthe thoughts and feelings that fill hisbreast, and she will read and rememberand rejoice. One and one only fills his minds eyeand wins his hearts love. That she isseven years older than himself mattersnot. Indeed, is it not always so witha first love ? Is it not ever the woman [28]. Shakespeares love story somewhat ripe in years that answers toits ideal? The sweet thoughts easily shape them-selves into verse, but long days passbefore the opportunity comes to slip itinto the hand of Anne Hathaway, forthe poet is shy, as befits his years. Butcome it does at last. It is a springmorning and, according to the prettyEnglish custom, all the young peoplehave turned out to do observance tothe morn of May. Most of them havespent the night in the woods, in dancesand in games, and now return in pro-cession, each bearing birch boughs,branches of trees or garlands, and fol-lowing the big Maypole drawn bythirty yoke of oxen, every horn tippedwith a bright nosegay. But when funand feasting are over, and Anne Hatha-way turns her steps homeward at thetwilight hour, a paper is pressed intoher hand and she reads: [3i]
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