Those of the most generous sentiments and finest feelings are perhaps more subject to this passion; for,
"Eating love inhabits in the finest wits of all."
It is not to be supposed that the melancholy fate of the beautiful Charlotte was so soon and entirely forgotten; but youth is not the season for ever-during melancholy. Bright thoughts will then spring up amidst the most gloomy recollections; and if one thing more than another can soothe the cares, and help to "pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow," it is the sweet companionship of woman in all the brilliancy of her glowing charms: and so thought Shakespeare as he took his way across those pleasant fields betwixt his own town and Shottery. "Yes," he said, as he came within sight of old Hathaway's cottage,
"To heal all grief, to cure all care,
Turn foulest night to fairest day,
To breathe delight, Anne Hath a way."
In youth we are more prone to fancy one elder than ourselves. The modest lad seems to look up to the full-blown woman, and to feel that his attentions, if received, are bestowed upon a worthy object; that he is indebted to her who consents to regard one so inferior (as at that moment he conceives himself) for women profess, in general, whatever they may feel, a contempt for the attentions of a mere boy, as they term the lad of seventeen or eighteen—a foolish lad, whom we laught at for his simple folly and childish admiration. This is dangerous sophistry, however, for a fair maid to indulge in.
In the middle period of life the fancy of the lover strays towards the fresh and budding flower, and the coy maiden is often sought out for a wife. In age, alas, 'tis but second childishness.
When Shakespeare reached the cottage of Master Hathaway, he felt his heart palpitate as he knocked at the door. His was a new acquaintance, and he hardly knew how the good yeoman might receive a visit so soon repeated. The voice of the old dame, however, bidding him come in, reassured him, and he lifted the latch and entered.
"Ah, Master Shakespeare," said the old dame, who was sitting at her spinning-wheel, "troth am I right glad to see thee. My husband and I have been oft-times talking of you since the night you was here."
"And the goodman," said Shakespeare, "is he hearty?"
"Troth is he, and away to Warwick to-day with Goodman Coulter, Hodge the smith, and others."