"Thou wilt completely alter the old style of representation," said Southampton.
"'Tis my purpose so to do," returned Shakespeare.
"From what thou hast before shewn me," said Lord Southampton, "I think thou wilt do much. But bethink ye, William Shakespeare, albeit thou hast a quick wit and rapid pen, thou must not let things come hastily from thy hands. Good works, I take it, are plants of slow produce. The city lads and the inns of court have, I find, began to regard thee since thou hast remodelled the company of the Blackfriars. And hast thou," continued the earl after a pause, "still the name purpose of becoming a part proprietor in the theatre here?"
"Such is my ambition," said Shakespeare; "but that must be at a future period, when further success shall give warranty to my hopes."
"Nay, want of means shall not baulk thee, good William," said Lord Southampton, "since I see plainly that more power will greatly facilitate the bringing forth thy inimitable works. Look," he continued, taking the pen Shakespeare had been writing with, and scrawling a few lines, "there is an order for a thousand pounds; present it to my steward when thou wilt, and 'tis thine. Nay, double the sum, if required."
Shakespeare thanked his generous patron in terms of manly gratitude; and soon afterwards the noble, after appointing his poetic friend to visit him, took his leave.
After the departure of Lord Southampton, the poet sat for some time, with his forehead leaning upon his hand, gazing upon the order his friend had given him.
Between my Lord Southampton and Shakespeare there was the most sincere friendship. The young noble appreciated the genius of the man, and felt quite a veneration for him; whilst the poet honoured one possessed of the fine feelings and generous and heroic spirit belonging to a more early and chivalrous age.
Since Shakespeare's flight from Stratford some time had now elapsed, during which he had not returned there. He had made a vow not to do so until he could re-appear under circumstances that would disarm the malevolence of his enemies; not until he had achieved a name. Oft-times had he written, and as often heard from his friends, sending them the greater portion of his earnings his efforts continually brought in. This was not the first gift of Lord Southampton; and a considerable sum he had before received had enabled him to settle his wife and children in comfortable circumstances in his native town. The money his noble friend had just now conferred upon him gave him a nearer prospect of revisiting Stratford be thought. And so the poet, with renewed energy, seized his pen, and again gave vent to his wondrous conceptions. As he writes, he remembers former days, and his thoughts revert again to his own sweet home and its neighbourhood, and again he dips his pen in his own heart. Then he revels in the recollection of those orgies amidst the choice spirits of Old London. Those tavern suppers in the quaint dark courts where the hostels of the crowded city are situated. Those secluded taverns of Old London town now, indeed, no longer to be found. The player's loved haunt, and where the rollicking 'prentice and even occasionally, the nobles of the Court congregated. Where he himself had fallen in with the Alsatian bully, the humourist, and all the varieties of the tavern haunter of the age; and from such he now draws his character, life-like and real, as if they walked and breathed and spoke before him.
And so the first part of the day passes, and still Shakespeare writes, for the fit is upon him, and like many of his class, albeit he spends in whole weeks, at times in joviality, excursionising with his comrades to Windsor and Greenwich, and "dafling the world aside" with the idlest; still there comes upon the man fits of deep thought, which are only to be relieved by the pen.