"THE HEDGE-ROWS WERE FULL, AS THEY ARE TO THIS DAY, OF WILD APPLES, WILD PEARS, AND 'CRABS.'"
The boys' games of those days were much the same as they are to-day. Each game then, as now, had its regular season in the year. In the season for marbles, no one would dream of playing anything else. "Knuckle-hole" is still the favorite game in Warwickshire. The standing-up game, pitching the taw from a mark scraped across the ground, is, I am told by competent authorities, rather going out of fashion; but it is still played. The marble season lasts through the late winter, much to the distraction of mothers, who have to clean and mend their sons' nether garments, which are worn with kneeling and plastered with mud at that time of year. Then comes the spinning-top, whip-top, and peg-top time. Later again there is tip-cat for the boys, and hop-scotch for the girls.
On the corn-bins in the Warwickshire ale-house stables we can still find the lines rudely cut for "nine men's morris." This, in Shakspere's day, was a favorite game, and one much in vogue among the shepherd boys in the summer, who cut a "board" in the short turf and whiled away the long hours by playing it. Little Will must often have gone to watch his father play "shovel-board" at the Falcon tavern, in Stratford, on the board upon which tradition says he himself played, in later life. And at home, he and his brother must have played "push-pin," an old game which is still played in remote parts of the country. Two pins are laid on the table; the players in turn jerk them with their fingers, and he who throws one pin across the other is allowed to take one of them, while those who do not succeed have to give a pin. This is the game Shakspere alludes to in "Love's Labour's Lost," when he says, "And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys."
Little Will knew a great deal about sport. All his allusions to sporting or woodcraft are those of a man who had been familiar with such things from his childhood. He and Gilbert must have set plenty of "springes, to catch wood-cocks," and dug out the "earth-delving conies" that swarmed in the commmonland of Welcombe, those dingles that in later years he fought so hard to preserve from inclosure.
BOYS FISHING IN THE AVON—OPPOSITE THE WEIR-BRAKE.
They must have fished many a time, as the Stratford boys do to this day, in the slow waters of the Avon, sitting quietly intent for hours upon the steep clay bank
"to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait."[C]
Then who can doubt that he often watched the hunting of the hare? Each line in his wonderful description of the hunted hare is written by a thorough sportsman and a keen observer of nature. How the purblind hare runs among a flock of sheep or into a rabbit-warren, or "sorteth with a herd of deer" to throw out "the hot scent-snuffing hounds." How they pause silent till they have worked "with much ado the cold fault cleanly out," and then burst into music again.