Is said to have granted letters of protection to John Kemp, a Flemish weaver who settled in the town; and, although the coarse cloth known to Shakespeare as "Kendal green" is no longer made, its place is more than supplied by active manufactures of tweeds, railway rugs, horse clothing, knitted woollen caps and jackets, worsted and woollen yarns, and similar goods.
Shakespeare acquired a considerable property adjacent to it, retired here after his active life in London, and here died.
The principal modern monument to the poet's memory in Stratford is the Shakespeare Memorial, a semi-Gothic building of brick, stone and timber, erected in 1877 to contain a theatre, picture gallery and library.
This panegyric, which is accompanied by a series of epitaphs and is composed in a strain of fearless extravagance, was, as the author declares, written "unfee'd"; it shows that Ford sympathized, as Shakespeare himself is supposed to have done, with the "awkward fate" of the countess's brother, the earl of Essex.
Ford's tract of Honor Triumphant, or the Peeres Challenge (printed 1606 and reprinted by the Shakespeare Society with the Line of Life, in 1843), and the simultaneously published verses The Monarches Meeting, or the King of Denmarkes Welcome into England, exhibit him as occasionally meeting the festive demands of court and nobility; and a kind of moral essay by him, entitled A Line of Life (printed 1620), which contains references to Raleigh, ends with a climax of fulsome praise to the address of King James I.
Had Shakespeare treated it, he would hardly have contented himself with investing the hero with the nobility given by Ford to this personage of his play, - for it is hardly possible to speak of a personage as a character when the clue to his conduct is intentionally withheld.
Nor could Shakespeare have failed to bring out with greater variety and distinctness the dramatic features in Henry VII., whom Ford depicts with sufficient distinctness to give some degree of individuality to the figure, but still with a tenderness of touch which would have been much to the credit of the dramatist's skill had he been writing in the Tudor age.
In 1757 Voltaire came to reside at Lausanne; and although he took but little notice of the young Englishman of twenty, who eagerly sought and easily obtained an introduction, the establishment of the theatre at Monrepos, where the brilliant versifier himself declaimed before select audiences his own productions on the stage, had no small influence in fortifying Gibbon's taste for the French theatre, and in at the same time abating that "idolatry for the gigantic genius of Shakespeare which is inculcated from our infancy as the first duty of an Englishman."
His egotism equalled Henry VIII.'s; his jealousy and ill-treatment of Richard Pace, dean of St Paul's, referred to by Shakespeare but vehemently denied by Dr Brewer, has been proved by the publication of the Spanish state papers; and Polydore Vergil, the historian, and Sir R.
As with Shakespeare and Beethoven, the day will never come when we can measure the influence of so vast a mind upon the history of art.
In 1763 the first North Bridge, connecting the Old Town with the sloping ground on which afterwards stood the Register House and the theatre in Shakespeare Square, was opened; a little later the Nor' Loch was partially drained, and the bridging of the Cowgate in 1785 encouraged expansion southwards.
As high a degree of originality may be shown in transformation as in invention, as Moliere and Shakespeare have proved in the region of dramatic art.
In his day, Shakespeare was low-brow entertainment for the common class.
Shakespeare was undoubtedly the greatest master the English language has ever known and, quite probably, will ever know.
Shakespeare remains so popular because he wrote about timeless human experiences: love and fear and envy, anger and revenge and jealousy, ambition and regret and guilt.
Under the terms of the definition I offered earlier, that makes Shakespeare the epitome of art—that is, something that continues to speak to future generations.
But first we must go further back, from Shakespeare at the end of the sixteenth century to Plato around 370 BC.
I think we will go forth and fill these billion worlds with generations that in kind will produce their own Dante, Columbus, Copernicus, Da Vinci, Newton, Shakespeare, Bach, Washington, Carver, Curie, Edison, Chaplin, Earhart, Tolkien, and ten thousand more masters in a thousand more arts.
This year is the happiest because I am studying subjects that especially interest me, economics, Elizabethan literature, Shakespeare under Professor George L. Kittredge, and the History of Philosophy under Professor Josiah Royce.
He brings back Shakespeare, the poet.
I cannot tell exactly when I began Lamb's "Tales from Shakespeare"; but I know that I read them at first with a child's understanding and a child's wonder.
It seems strange that my first reading of Shakespeare should have left me so many unpleasant memories.
But, with all my love for Shakespeare, it is often weary work to read all the meanings into his lines which critics and commentators have given them.
I know there are many things in Shakespeare, and in the world, that I do not understand; and I am glad to see veil after veil lift gradually, revealing new realms of thought and beauty.
When she met Dr. Furness, the Shakespearean scholar, he warned her not to let the college professors tell her too many assumed facts about the life of Shakespeare; all we know, he said, is that Shakespeare was baptized, married, and died.
After thinking a little while, she added, 'I think Shakespeare made it very terrible so that people would see how fearful it is to do wrong.'
In Captain Keller's library she found excellent books, Lamb's "Tales from Shakespeare," and better still Montaigne.
To a stranger he appeared to know nothing of things in general; yet I sometimes saw in him a man whom I had not seen before, and I did not know whether he was as wise as Shakespeare or as simply ignorant as a child, whether to suspect him of a fine poetic consciousness or of stupidity.