ll the requisite tours. And with this view, though it
cannot be proved, and is very unlikely, that Shakspeare ever was in
Scotland, yet it is most likely that the author of _Macbeth_ was; and
thus the intelligence, but not the genius, of these wonderful works
ceases to be supernatural. Again, not one single manuscript of
Shakspeare's plays or poems has ever been discovered; and certainly
the search has been as rigorous and continuous as that for the
Philosopher's Stone; while even Scott, when owning to the Novels,
found it necessary to say that almost all the manuscripts were
holograph; nor, if we do not very much mistake, is there among all the
records and traditions which have been handed to us, any statement of
Shakspeare having been seen writing, or having delivered his
manuscript.

Of course, the obvious answer to all this is, that such a transaction,
carried on through so many years, and having reference to works which
even in that age excited considerable admiration and attention, could
not be concealed. We may reply to this, that Shakspeare, who
apparently was liked by every one, did not conceal it from his
friends, and that they supported him in this pardonable
assumption--the members of the theatre for their own sakes, and his
other friends for his.

Take, besides, the custom of the age, the helter-skelter way in which
dramas were got up, sometimes by half-a-dozen authors at once, of whom
one occasionally monopolised the fame; and the unscrupulous manner in
which booksellers appropriated any popular name of the day, and
affixed it to their publications; and who so popular with all
playgoers of the period as the gentle, well-living Shakspeare? And his
name would better suit his friends and the then public, than any mere
recluse, unknown poet, until his name, like other myths, acquired
sanctity by age. Indeed, we fear it is not necessary to go back to
Shakspeare's time to find the practice of assumed authorship of
purchased plays, without either the reasons or the excuses which apply
to Shakspeare. Unfortunately, however, for those who claim Shakspeare
for Shakspeare, the secret was not wholly kept. Robert Greene, a
well-known contemporary, a writer of reputation, but one who led the
skeldering life peculiar to most of his class, addressed, on his
death-bed, in 1592, a warning to his co-mates not to trust to the
puppets 'that speak from our mouths.' He then goes on in these
remarkable words, which we believe