"Oh, time," he thought to himself, "thou art the most indefatigable of things! The past is gone, the future to come, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it,—like the flash of lightning, it exists and expires."
His companions of the theatre had sought the genial license of the tavern, there to revel over the success of the night, and canvass the merits and demerits of what they had enacted; and whilst he, the poet himself, the idol of the hour, and whom all wished to have with them, felt at that moment unfitted for society.
As he cast his eyes up at the "brave o'erhanging firmament, fretted with golden fire," he felt that "the wide, the universal theatre," was at that moment most congenial to his soul.
Whilst numerous boats continued to pass and repass, many of them filled with companies who had witnessed the performance, he hailed one he observed disengaged; and after rowing to his own lodging, and changing his dress, he re-embarked.
We have already stated that the mind of the man had not been elevated beyond bounds at the success he had achieved. To such a mind as Shakespeare's the prosperity of the hour was more likely to produce a degree of melancholy than any undue elevation. An incomprehensible feeling of contempt and distrust of all worldly success. Perhaps of all mortals this great man was the least given to vanity. The present hour would indeed seem to proclaim as much. He was on that night wished for, sought for, not only by many of the nobles who had witnessed his play, but his companions of the stage too sought for him to join their tavern revel after the performance, and several of the audience had even lingered about the doors, to gain a look at him as he came forth, whilst the unconscious poet, wrapped in his own thoughts, slowly floated down the river. Nay, so utterly careless was he of all he had effected, that the very play which had made so great a sensation scarcely existed but in the memories of the performers who had recited it.
It had, previous to performance, been copied into lengths, as the several parts are technically denominated, and given to the actors to study, whilst the manuscript itself was left casting about amidst the properties of the theatre, to be searched for, if required, at the next performance.
As the gentle Shakespeare, during the silent hour of night, passed slowly along the stream, his thoughts indeed were of other matters rather than his own particular affairs. The ripple of the water, the plash of the oars, the faint sound of music from afar, soothed his thoughts after the false exciting hour.
"Soft stillness and the night,
Became the touches of sweet harmony."
Meantime, whilst the poet floats onwards, we must return to the city, and observe the events taking place immediately after the representation of his play.
In a goodly room of a good-sized tavern, situated in the purlieus of Old St. Paul's, were congregated, on this night, many who had been spectators of the recent performance at the Blackfriars, and several other chance customers.