known it might sadly mar my fortunes.  In the vastness of thy riches, the absence of these gems shall not be noted.  The loss of a star dims not the splendor of the constellations.  The glorious sun seeks not to reclaim the lustre his rays have given to the tiny dewdrop.  Withal I have rendered to thee somewhat of recompense as I have spoken at sundry times to her gracious Majesty and to our present anointed Sovereign of thy dramas, and fostered as best I might thy interests when they crossed not mine own.  So I trust this boon may be awarded me, and that my borrowed splendors may not be stripped away.  Thy immeasurable superiority, as again evidenced in the sonnet to the Lady Mary, has fixed anew my resolve as to my predestined field of labor.  Not for my brow shall be woven the Poet’s garland of bays.  Yet abundant self-confidence is mine, and I augur that in the great work for which I would fain believe the ages are waiting, will be made clear my award to be the high priest of Nature.  Exact sciences not yet born shall be my servitors and the augmenters of my fame.  By the methods I have discerned shall mankind discover and apply those beneficent innovations which are the chiefest births of time.  Yet even this hope hath its flavor of bitterness, as thus guided my pupils may far overpass me and my memory be lost.  But the love of beauty and melody in poesy is of perennial life, and thy memory shall survive the mutations of time, and shall be the Nation’s heritage while fancy and imagination dwell in the souls of men.

Anew do I now discern that the meditation of Nature and her laws, mysterious yet exact, consorteth not with the airy fancies of the Poet’s vision, and that our paths are diverse, yet each guiding to what is useful and divine.

    Farewell! and until the dolors of death are mine shall I remember
    thy sweet, loving kindness, and admire thy shining genius where wit
    and wisdom guide the flight of a sovereign imagination.

    Ever thy friend, Francis Bacon.

One special point is notable in this letter from Bacon.  His ordinary correspondence is thickly sprinkled with quotations in the ancient tongues.  As he was well acquainted with Shakespeare, this omission of his customary Latin phrases would indicate that he recognized Shakespeare’s lack of a thorough classical education.

The next, and the last letter in the collection which seems to have a bearing upon the sleeplessness of Shakespeare, is also from Rev. Walter Blaise.

    Stratford, April 3, 1609.

    To William Shakespeare: