Shakespeare

Will Shakespeare, the Baconians say,
Was the Belasco of his day--
Others more plausibly maintain
He was the double of Hall Caine.

Oliver Herford

Oliver Herford was born in England on December 2, 1860. He was a British-born American writer, artist, and illustrator, often referred to as 'The American Oscar Wilde' for his sharp wit and humorous works. Herford authored and illustrated many books for children and adults, contributing to magazines such as "The Criterion", "Life", and "Punch". He died on July 5, 1935, in France.

Oliver Herford

Pegasus

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

An Ostrich.

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

In Darkest Africa

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

The Siren

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

English

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Poets And Philosophers.

Bacon, Hogg, Lamb and Shakespeare.

        Bacon, philosopher profound,
        With mighty thoughts his works abound,
        Reflections did his mind engage
        Were in advance of his own age.

        And Hogg the Ettrick shepherd bard,
        High honors all do him award,
        Great fame and glory he did reap
        While tending to his flock of sheep.

        And Lamb, the gentle and the good,
        His works all show a happy mood;
        About these names there is no waste,
        Pleasing to fancy and to taste.

        Some critics think they do make clear
        The fact that Bacon wrote Shakespeare,
        But a gent lives in New York
        Asks what effect will it have on pork.

        Of course it w...

James McIntyre

George Bernard Shaw

The very name of Bernard Shaw
Fills me with mingled Mirth and Awe.
Mixture of Mephistopheles,
Don Quixote, and Diogenes,
The Devil's wit, the Don's Romance
Joined to the Cynic's arrogance.
Framed on Pythagorean plan,
A Vegetable Souperman.
Here you may see him crown with bay
The Greatest Playwright of his day;[1]
Observe the look of Self Distrust
And Diffidence--upon the bust.

Oliver Herford

An Unfortunate Likeness.

I've painted Shakespeare all my life -
"An infant" (even then at "play"!)
"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,
Then "Married to Ann Hathaway."

"The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben."),
His "First appearance on the stage,"
His "Call before the curtain" then
"Rejoicings when he came of age."

The bard play-writing in his room,
The bard a humble lawyer's clerk.
The bard a lawyer ^{1} parson ^{2} groom ^{3} -
The bard deer-stealing, after dark.

The bard a tradesman ^{4} and a Jew ^{5} -
The bard a botanist ^{6} a beak ^{7} -
The bard a skilled musician ^{8} too -
A sheriff ^{9} and a surgeon ^{10} eke!

Yet critics say (a friendly stock)
...

William Schwenck Gilbert

The Swashbuckler

Squat-nosed and broad, of big and pompous port;
A tavern visage, apoplexy haunts,
All pimple-puffed: the Falstaff-like resort
Of fat debauchery, whose veined cheek flaunts
A flabby purple: rusty-spurred he stands
In rakehell boots and belt, and hanger that
Claps when, with greasy gauntlets on his hands,
He swaggers past in cloak and slouch-plumed hat.
Aggression marches armies in his words;
And in his oaths great deeds ride cap-à-pie;
His looks, his gestures breathe the breath of swords;
And in his carriage camp all wars to be:
With him, of battles there shall be no lack
While buxom wenches are and stoops of sack.

Madison Julius Cawein

Guilielmus Rex

The folk who lived in Shakespeare's day
And saw that gentle figure pass
By London Bridge, his frequent way--
They little knew what man he was.

The pointed beard, the courteous mien,
The equal port to high and low,
All this they saw or might have seen--
But not the light behind the brow!

The doublet's modest gray or brown,
The slender sword-hilt's plain device,
What sign had these for prince or clown?
Few turned, or none, to scan him twice.

Yet 'twas the king of England's kings!
The rest with all their pomps and trains
Are mouldered, half-remembered things--
'Tis he alone that lives and reigns!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Shakespeare's Expostulation

Masters, I sleep not quiet in my grave,
There where they laid me, by the Avon shore,
In that some crazy wights have set it forth
By arguments most false and fanciful,
Analogy and far-drawn inference,
That Francis Bacon, Earl of Verulam
(A man whom I remember in old days,
A learned judge with sly adhesive palms,
To which the suitor's gold was wont to stick) —
That this same Verulam had writ the plays
Which were the fancies of my frolic brain.
What can they urge to dispossess the crown
Which all my comrades and the whole loud world
Did in my lifetime lay upon my brow?
Look straitly at these arguments and see
How witless and how fondly slight they be.
Imprimis, they have urged that, being born
In the mean compass of a paltry town,
I could not in my yout...

Arthur Conan Doyle