n, French, German and Greek, with the accent of a native, and had but
recently translated the works of Montaigne, the great French philosopher.
The Herbert-Southampton family patronized him.

When not employed at the various theatres, the Stratford miracle could be
found at the rooms of his friend Florio, at the "Red Lion," across the
street from Temple Bar, where law students, bailiffs and barristers made
day and night merry with their professional antics.

William employed Florio to teach him the technical and philosophic merits
of the Greek and Latin languages, and at the same time furnish him with
ancient stories that he might dramatize into English classics, and astonish
the native writers by dressing up old subjects in new frocks, cloaks, robes
and crowns.

Florio would often read by the hour, gems of Latin, Greek and French
philosophy, and explain to us the intricate phrases of Virgil, Ovid,
Terence, Homer, AEschylus, Plutarch, Demosthenes, Plato, Petrarch and Dante,
while William drank up his imparted knowledge as freely and quickly as the
sun in his course inhales the sparkling dewdrops from garden, vale and
mountain.

In the spring of 1591 William and myself paid a flying visit to Stratford,
the Bard to pay up some family debts and bury a brother who had recently
migrated to the land of imagination.

The mother and father of William were delighted at the London success of
their son, and Anne Hathaway seemed to be mellowed and mollified by the
guineas William emptied into her lap, while Hammet and Judith, the
rollicking children, were rampant with delight at the toys, sweetmeats and
dresses presented as Easter offerings.

No matter what the incompatibility of temper between William and Anne, he
never forgot to send part of his wages for the support of herself and
children, and although he was a "free lance" among the ladies of London, he
maintained the "higher law" of family purity and morality.

When he violated any of the ten commandments, he did it with his eyes open,
and took the consequent mental or physical punishment with stoic
indifference. He never called on others to shoulder his sins, but on the
contrary he often bore the burden of cowardly "friends," who made him the
"scapegoat" for their own iniquity--a common class of scoundrels.

He never bothered himself about the religion manufacturers of mankind,
knowing that the whole scheme, from the Oriental sunworshipers to the
quarreling crowd of