“‘Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead
Through which the living Homer begged his bread.’”
“That is Mr. Anon,” whispered Lord Bacon. “Shakespeare is quite jealous of him, for Anon claims to be the most voluminous author in the world and, like Byron’s reviewer, has ‘just enough learning to misquote.’ He seldom quotes anyone correctly, not even excepting himself, but in this he is not unlike those other authors whom excess of egotism persuades into signing their names to that which would be their own had not some one said it before.”
“‘Heed him not, gentle sirs,
’Tis but the fool,’”
observed Shakespeare.
“I ought to give you a pension for making my sayings so well known; I notice you never quote your own sentiments because mine answer all purposes so much better.”
It was Lord Bacon who spoke.
“I was talking of you, I grant that,” retorted Shakespeare. “Shall I repeat it? My wife says that it’s only by a hair—”
“You two men are always quarreling,” interrupted Anon. “Please keep the age of Anne from his lordship’s notice, for she hath a way to fry his Bacon. My lord, you should never judge a poet by his hair.”