There was no one in him;
behind his face
(which even through the bad paintings of those times resembles no other)
and his words, which were
there was only a bit of coldness,
At first he thought that all people were like him, but the
of a friend to whom he had begun to speak of this emptiness showed him his error and made him feel always that an individual should not differ in outward appearance.
Once he thought that in books he would find a cure for his ill and thus he learned the small Latin and less Greek a contemporary would speak of; later he considered that what he sought might well be found in an elemental rite of humanity, and let himself be initiated by Anne Hathaway one long June afternoon. At the age of twenty-odd years he went to London. Instinctively he had already become proficient in the habit of simulating that he was someone, so that others would not discover his condition as
in London he found the profession to which he was predestined, that of
who on a stage plays at being another before a gathering of people who play at taking him for that other person. His
tasks brought him a singular satisfaction, perhaps the
first he’d ever known;
but once -the last verse had been acclaimed and the last dead man withdrawn from the stage, the hated flavour of unreality returned to him. He ceased to be Ferrex or Tamberlane and became
Thus
he took to imagining other
and other tragic fables.
And so, while his flesh fulfilled its destiny as flesh in the taverns and brothels of London, the soul that inhabited him was Caesar, who disregards the augur’s admonition, and Juliet. who abhors the lark, and Macbeth, who converses on the plain with the witches who are also Fates. No one has ever been so many men as this man who like the Egyptian Proteus could exhaust all the
At times he would leave a confession hidden away in some corner of his work, certain that it would not be deciphered; Richard affirms that in his person he plays the part of many and Iago claims with curious words
'I am not what I am'.
The fundamental identity of existing, dreaming and acting inspired famous passages of his.
For twenty years he persisted in that controlled hallucination, but one morning he was suddenly
tedium and the
of being so many kings who die by the sword and so many suffering lovers who
That very day he arranged to sell his theatre.
Within.. a week he had returned to his native village, where he recovered the trees and rivers of his childhood and did not relate them to the others his muse had celebrated, illustrious with
and Latin terms. He had to be ‘someone: he was a retired impresario who had made his fortune and concerned himself with loans, lawsuits and petty usury. It was in this character that he dictated the arid will and testament known to us, from which he deliberately excluded all traces of pathos or literature. His friends from London would visit his retreat and for them he would take up again his role as poet.
History adds that before or after dying he found himself in the presence of God and told Him:
'I who have been'
one and myself.'
The voice of the Lord answered from a whirlwind:
I have dreamt the world as you dreamt your work, my Shakespeare, and among the forms in my dream are you, who like myself are
and no one.'