the memory of my Beloved.” Richard Barnfield in his “Affectionate Shepherd” flutes on soft Virgilian reed the story of his attachment to some young Elizabethan of the day. Out of all the Eclogues, Abraham Fraunce selects the second for translation, and Fletcher's lines to Master W. C. show what fascination was hidden in the mere name of Alexis.
It was no wonder then that Shakespeare had been stirred by a spirit that so stirred his age. There had been critics, like Hallam, who had regretted that the Sonnets had ever been written, who had seen in them something dangerous, something unlawful even. To them it would have been sufficient to answer in Chapman’s noble words:
“There is no danger to a man that knows
What Life and Death is: there's not any law
Exceeds his knowledge: neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.”
But it was evident that the Sonnets needed no such defence as this, and that those who had talked of “the folly of excessive and misplaced affection” had not been able to interpret either the language or
