the times and places
in which he lived, the literature which he read, and the theaters for
which he worked. The evolution of the drama that grew up in those
theaters has been reviewed, and its manifest connections with
Shakespeare's own development have been indicated. That development has
been traced by means of a careful determination of the chronology of the
plays; and the recognition of this growth of his powers has been shown
to be a necessary basis for a just estimate of their achievement.

If, now, in conclusion, we attempt to define our general impression of
the man and his work, this must inevitably take into account
considerations of environment and development. The man belonged to his
era, his city, and his profession. The documents make it plain that he
did not live apart, but in close contact with the affairs of his day and
generation. The plays make it clear that few men ever became so
intimately familiar with the manners, morals, and ideas of their own
time. There is no doubt that he drank deeply of the experience that
Elizabethan London offered him. Still more, the plays make it clear that
his life was one of constant and extraordinary intellectual and
spiritual growth. Though, from the objective nature of the dramas, it is
impossible to translate them into terms of personal experience or into
exact stages of mental growth, yet it is none the less evident that the
progress from the author of _Love's Labour's Lost_ to the author of _The
Tempest_, from the creator of Richard III and Valentine to the creator
of Iago and Antony, was marked, not only by a widening experience, but
also by a development of personal character.

[Page Heading: The Sonnets]

To understand a man's surroundings does not, however, reveal the man;
and to measure the growth of genius does not interpret its quality.
Lovers of the plays are likely always to query: What manner of man was
this? Taken out of his London, at any time in his career, how would he
seem if we could know him as a man? Of what nature is this companion and
friend whose presence we have felt through all his verses and in all of
his characters? The few clues offered by records or tradition, and the
difficulties in separating the creator from the thousand men and women
of his creation, have driven many to seek answers to these questions in
the sonnets. There he speaks in the first person, and there are revealed
not merely some dubious hints of actual incidents, but t