Elizabeth even so far condescended to the poet as to perform
certain hoidenish tricks while he was playing on the stage, to see if
she could not disconcert his speaking by the majesty of her royal
presence. The poet, who was performing the part of King Henry IV., took
no notice of her motions, till, in order to bring him to a crisis, she
dropped her glove at his feet; whereat he picked it up, and presented it
her, improvising these two lines, as if they had been a part of the
play:--

"And though, now bent on this high embassy,
Yet stoop we to take up our cousin's glove."

I think this anecdote very characteristic of them both; it seems to me
it shows that the poet did not so absolutely crawl in the dust before
her, as did almost all the so called men of her court; though he did
certainly flatter her after a fashion in which few queens can be
flattered. His description of the belligerent old Gorgon as the "Fair
Vestal throned by the West" seems like the poetry and fancy of the
beautiful Fairy Queen wasted upon the half-brute clown:--

"Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk roses in thy sleek, smooth, head,
And kiss thy fair, large ears, my gentle joy."

Elizabeth's understanding and appreciation of Shakspeare was much after
the fashion of Nick Bottom's of the Fairy Queen. I cannot but believe
that the men of genius who employed their powers in celebrating this
most repulsive and disagreeable woman must sometimes have comforted
themselves by a good laugh in private.

In order to appreciate Shakspeare's mind from his plays, we must
discriminate what expressed the gross tastes of his age, and what he
wrote to please himself. The Merry Wives of Windsor was a specimen of
what he wrote for the "Fair Vestal;" a commentary on the delicacy of her
maiden meditations. The Midsummer Night's Dream he wrote from his own
inner dream world.

In the morning we took leave of our hotel. In leaving we were much
touched with the simple kindliness of the people of the house. The
landlady and her daughters came to bid us farewell, with much feeling;
and the former begged my acceptance of a bead purse, knit by one of her
daughters, she said, during the winter evenings while they were reading
Uncle Tom. In this town one finds the simple-hearted, kindly English
people corresponding to the same class which we see in our retired New
England towns. We received many mark