It appears that, from year to year, he owned
a larger share in the Blackfriars' Theater: its wardrobe and other
appurtenances were his: that he bought an estate in his native village,
with his earnings, as writer and shareholder; that he lived in the
best house in Stratford; was intrusted by his neighbors with their
commissions in London, as of borrowing money, and the like; that he
was a veritable farmer. About the time when he was writing Macbeth,
he sues Philip Rogers, in the borough-court of Stratford, for
thirty-five shillings ten pence, for corn delivered to him at different
times; and, in all respects, appears as a good husband, with no
reputation for eccentricity or excess. He was a good-natured sort of
man, an actor and shareholder in the theater, not in any striking
manner distinguished from other actors and managers. I admit the
importance of this information. It was well worth the pains that have
been taken to procure it.
But whatever scraps of information concerning his condition these
researches may have rescued, they can shed no light upon that infinite
invention which is the concealed magnet of his attraction for us.
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