![]() ![]() The stench and filth rarely troubled him now, as they had when he first came here from the country. He awkwardly dodged a pair of rambling pigs and picked his way through the dung and muck of the city streets. Master Shakespeare pulled the hood of his cloak down low over his eyes and hurried from his lodgings in Bishopsgate, walking as quickly as he could on his hobbled legs. Twenty years he lived in London … Twenty years he dallied there between conjugal love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures. ![]() Herman Melville, "Hawthorne and His Mosses" In Shakespeare's tomb lies infinitely more than Shakespeare ever wrote. The real mystery of Shakespeare, a thousand times more mysterious than any matter of the will, is: why is it that-unlike Dante, Cervantes, Chaucer, Tolstoy, whomever you wish-he makes what seems a voluntary choice to stop writing? ![]()
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