The Place 2 Be

WHY OXFORD WASN'T SHAKESPEARE

      "Be sure that you go to the author to get at his meaning, not to find yours."
John Ruskin
No-one disputes that Joseph Heller wrote Catch 22. The book is published: "Catch 22 by Joseph Heller". Joseph Heller has never protested that he didn't write it. Not one person has instead claimed to be its author. All contemporary evidence correlates with Joseph Heller being its author. There is not one iota of evidence of anyone else being its author. In Shakespeare's time, no-one disputed that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon wrote the plays and sonnets credited to him. They were published: "Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies" and "Shake-speares Sonnets". William Shakespeare of Stratford never protested that he didn't write them. Not one person claimed instead to be their author. All contemporary evidence correlates with William Shakespeare being their author. There is not one iota of evidence of anyone else being their author instead.
Despite this, since the 19th. Century there are those who have believed that someone else must have written them instead. Not that there's any evidence, but that surely the man from Stratford couldn't have therefore someone else must have. The candidates for alternative authorship are many and varied, and most have fallen into disrepute, perhaps indicative of the desire to find someone rather than the quality of the argument that there was someone else. The current popular candidate as Alternative Author is Edward de Vere, the 17th. Earl of Oxford (1550-1604) whose case is best presented by the Shakespeare Oxfordian Society.
If there is someone other than William Shakespeare responsible for these magnificent literary works, then it is only right that they are properly credited and no-one should be selective or dismissive in their assessment to favour a pre-determined conclusion on the matter. Equally, if William Shakespeare of Stratford wrote the works attributed to him then he should have that credit rather than it be transferred to someone not responsible, nor worthy of, that accreditation. But scrutinising the Oxford case objectively yields very serious problems with the claim (that he never claimed for himself) and here I list 26 main points of contention I have that collectively convince me that Oxford's candidature as the Alternative Author is as false as all the others, and that the various Alternative Author theories are much ado about nothing:

    1. DATING OF KING LEAR
In September 1605 there was an eclipse of the moon. In October, there was also an eclipse of the sun. A commonly held belief (that is still held by some to this day) was that natural events such as these were divine signs warning of impending doom and disaster. In February 1606, Edward Gresham published a pamphlet that told of strange events in Croatia that included a report of a woman giving birth to a boy who had four heads. This was seen as confirmation of the terrible things to come after the foreboding eclipses of just 4 months earlier. Gresham's pamphlet said:
"The Earth's and Moon's late and horrible obscurations, the frequent eclipsations of the fixed bodies; by the wandering, the fixed stars, I mean the planets, within these few years more than ordinary, shall without doubt have their effects no less admirable, than the positions unusual. Which Peucer with many more too long to rehearse out of continual observation and the consent of all authors noted to be, new leagues, traitorous designments, catching at kingdoms, translation of empire, downfall of men in authority, emulations, ambition, innovations, factious sects, schisms, and much disturbance and troubles in religion and matters of the Church, with many other things infallible in sequent such orbical positions and phenomenes."
On December 26, 1606, Shakespeare's King Lear was performed before James I at Whitehall, almost certainly for the first time given that there are no references to any earlier performances. In the play, Gloucester says:
"These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools,  friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked ’twixt  son and father."
Act 1, Scene 2
then Edmund continues:
"I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses...I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what."
Act 1, Scene 2
It is bordering on indisputable that Gloucester's and Edmund's speeches in King Lear were directly inspired by the recent or "late" eclipses in Autumn 1605 and Gresham's pamphlet of February 1606. The known recent events, Gresham's words, his account of cause and effects, his way of listing disasters that he predicts will come about as a result of this divine sign, all correlate with these speeches in King Lear. Shakespeare's conciser accounts are, naturally, vastly superior, particularly in the way Gloucester's account builds forebodingly from cooling love to high treason and the alliteration in Edmund's speech, but I can not imagine any impartial and objective reader of these two accounts failing to accept their direct correlation. Shakespeare even goes one step further by augmenting the list of impending doom with a reference to the recent Gunpowder Plot attempt to murder James I and Parliament members at the Palace of Westminster on November 4, 1605 as real evidence of  "in palaces, treason" following these eclipses.
Immediately after the Gunpowder Plot of November 1605, various security measures were put into effect including the closure of all ports. Unusually, these security measures were announced by public proclamation and the incident in general aroused intense interest in the country. In a clear utilisation of these security measures by Shakespeare, he has Edgar saying in King Lear:
"I heard myself proclaimed, and by the happy hollow of a tree escaped the hunt. No port is free, no place that guard and most unusual vigilance does not attend my taking."
Act 2, Scene 2
As Oxford died in 1604, how could he have been the author of this work that correlates with known, dateable events and sources that occurred after he died?
Clearly, he wasn't.

 
2. DATING OF THE TEMPEST
The Tempest is generally regarded to have been the last entire play that Shakespeare wrote - this conclusion is based on analysis of the work compared to his other plays, its first Court performance in the Autumn of 1611, and this performance being just 5 years before he died.
Short of having a date-stamped video of Shakespeare actually writing the play it was almost certainly inspired by the wreck of the Sea-Venture in Bermuda in 1609, especially as the play explicitly refers to "the still-vex'd Bermoothes" and the clear correlation that exists between an account of the wreck by Robert Strachey and the sections of Shakespeare's play that centre on the wreck. A thorough analysis of this correlation has been ably presented by Dave Kathman here.
Although the 1609 shipwreck was not the first to ever occur in the Bermudas (earlier documented examples include the Edward Bonaventure in 1593), the suggestion that: de Vere could have written this play at least 7 years before it was first performed; that he was inspired by lesser wrecks from 11 years prior to his death; that it just so happened that the major wreck of the period in the Bermudas occurred subsequent to his death; and that parts of his detail regarding the wreck correlate precisely with Strachey's account of a separate wreck after de Vere had died, is stretching belief too far beyond reasonable doubt.
Meanwhile, William Shakespeare didn't die until 1616.

 
3. DATING OF MACBETH
The subject matter of Macbeth (the only play set in Scotland that tells the story of the tragic hero King of Scotland) was indisputably inspired by the accession of James VI of Scotland to the English throne in 1603 after the death of the childless Elizabeth I. As Edward de Vere suffered from the plague in the last year of his life his authorship of Macbeth requires belief that he wrote one the greatest of Shakespeare's plays in a plague-ridden, moribund state.
The style and meter of this play place the likely writing of it as 1605-6 and this is consolidated by good circumstantial evidence of the first court performance of this suitably short play being in the summer of 1606 coinciding with King Christian IV's visit.
This is more strongly consolidated by a topical reference in the drunken Porter scene where he says:
"Faith, here’s an equivocator that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough for God’s sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven."
Act 2, Scene 3
which is a clear reference to the trial and execution of Father Garnet (whose defence was the doctrine of Equivocation) for his role in the Gunpowder Plot of November 4, 1605.
In March 1606, the worst storm in living memory caused extensive damage across Europe which connects with the tempestuous night following Duncan's murder.
The condition de Vere was in during the final year of his life, which is the earliest time that this play could possibly have been written, and the correlation of the above known, dateable events to the objective estimate of 1606 being the year in which it was written, clearly exclude
de Vere from the title of author of Shakespeare's Macbeth.
Conversely, William Shakespeare had another 10 years to live when the play was written.

 
4. IGNORANCE OF De VERE ANCESTRY
In the History play, Henry VI Part 3, the battle at Tewkesbury is portrayed where the Lancastrians are defeated. Several Lancastrian leaders are captured, one of which is John de Vere, 13th. Earl of Oxford (1443-1513) who is led off and imprisoned:
"Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight."
Act 5, Scene 5
But Oxford never fought at Tewkesbury. He was in France during that time and didn't return to England until 2 years after the Tewkesbury battle. And if he had been at Tewkesbury then he would certainly have been executed as a traitor like Somerset rather than be imprisoned.
If Edward de Vere was the author of this play (and Richard III, where Oxford is also mentioned as being at Tewkesbury), why did he demonstrate such crass ignorance of the role his own illustrious family had played in the Wars of the Roses, especially when John de Vere had died less than 80 years prior to this play being written?
Clearly, it was written by someone less well-informed of the detail of John de Vere's role and whereabouts, like William Shakespeare.

 
5. LOW PROFILE OF De VERE
In Richard III, John de Vere inevitably gets a further mention where he is listed amongst other Lancastrians:
"Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier, Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, And Rhys-ap-Thomas with a valiant crew".
Act 4, Scene 5
If Edward de Vere was really the author of this play, it is very difficult indeed to believe that he would have granted his ancestor such a modest mention in the middle of a list like this.
This would be de Vere's chance to really celebrate his ancestor's role in England's history but whilst he describes everyone else as "renowned", "redoubted", "valiant", or "Sirs", the author just refers to John de Vere, 13th. Earl of Oxford, simply as "Oxford".
Evidently, John de Vere was not as significant to the author as you would expect had the author been Edward de Vere.

 
6. SONNET 136
At the culmination of Sonnet 136 the author states "my name is Will" and precedes this declaration with 6 puns on his name. Why would de Vere write this when his name was Edward?
Conversely, this is exactly the type of sonnet you would expect from someone called Will Shakespeare.
If thy soul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Among a number one is reckoned none.
Then in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy store’s account I one must be;
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing, me a something, sweet, to thee.
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lov’st me, for my name is Will.
.

7. SONNET 135
In Sonnet 135, the author tells his subject that "thou hast thy Will" then proceeds to pun or make reference to his own name 13 further times including the internal "will" in "wilt". A perfect number of 14 references to his own name in a 14-line sonnet emphasising the significance of the author to the work itself.
Again, why would de Vere write this when his name was Edward? It would be like T.S. Eliot writing a poem punning on his name being "Jack".
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus.
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in Will, add to thy Will
One will of mine to make thy large Will more.
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.
.
 
8. SONNET 143
In Sonnet 143, the author tells his subject "I pray that thou mayst have thy Will" in a further direct reference to his own name. Yet again, why would de Vere maintain this playful pre-occupation with his own name when his name was Edward?
Lo, as a care-full housewife runs to catch
One of her feathered creatures broke away,
Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay,
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her poor infant’s discontent:
So runn’st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I, thy babe, chase thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me
And play the mother’s part: kiss me, be kind.
So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will
If thou turn back and my loud crying still.
.
 
9. SONNET 76
In Sonnet 76, the author laments the loss of his muse, the loss of his inventiveness, and compares his current work to "weeds". He goes on to correlate the weedy nature of his current work with his own undistinguished name and birth: that he comes from a modest background and that he has not proceeded much beyond that as is manifested in his current work. Some Oxfordians claim "That every word doth almost tell my name" is a pointer to an anagram and that "every word" is an anagram of Edwory Ver which is "almost" an anagram of Edward de Vere (if you change the o to an a; change the y to a d; add a d and an e to make de; and add a final e). Making 5 changes to turn an alleged 9-letter anagram into a 12-letter name that you want to find goes far beyond what is reasonable to find a genuine anagram. As the Friedmans showed in their classic book on alleged ciphers in Shakespeare's works, and as can be seen here, accidental anagrams and ciphers can be found anywhere you go hunting for them.
What is most odd, is that if de Vere was so fond of anagrams and ciphers (as demonstrated by him allegedly signing some correspondence as "eVer yours" as a pun on his name), why aren't Shakespeare's works riddled with such de Vere ciphers and anagrams instead of being confined to this effort that has little merit as a genuine anagram and requires ignorance of what the author is actually saying in the sonnet?
But, maybe we are forewarned of the merits of this anagram and the authorship conspiracy known only to a select few in Matthew 18:16 which predicts: "in the mouth of two or three witnesses ‘every word’ may be established". Then again, we’re brought back to reality in Proverbs 14:15 with: "The simple believeth ‘every word’: but the prudent man looketh well to his going". But ultimately, the Bard himself has to have the last word on the matter and what better example of his many innocuous uses of the phrase "every word" than Hamlet:
Messenger: "The rabble call him "Lord [Great Chamberlain]", and, as the world were now but to begin, antiquity forgot, custom not known, the ratifiers and props of ‘every word’, they cry: "Choose we! Laertes [Oxford] shall be king." Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, "Laertes [Oxford] shall be king, Laertes [Oxford] king".
Queen Gertrude: "How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!"
Act 4, Scene 5
Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
So far from variation or quick change?
Why, with the time, do I not glance aside
To new-found methods and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent;
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love, still telling what is told.
.
 
10. SONNET 81
In Sonnet 81, the author again contemplates his death and the expectation that he will be forgotten after he has gone. He compares this to his subject whose memory will be everlasting, at least by virtue of the author's poetry, of which they are the subject, in part. The author's own destiny, in his own view, is no more than "a common grave". Why would Edward de Vere, a nobleman, the 17th. Earl of Oxford, born into privilege and title, born in Hedingham Castle, inevitably destined to be buried in the family tomb, say that at his death he is destined for no more than "a common grave" and the "worms" referred to in four other sonnets, like a commoner? His social status is entirely incompatible with him receiving a "common" burial.
Conversely, that is exactly the expectation of a commoner whose social standing in life has risen to no higher a level than "Gent.", as per William Shakespeare of Stratford.
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten.
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die.
The earth can yield me but a common grave
When you entombed in men’s eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead.
You still shall live such virtue hath my pen
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
.

11. SONNET 25
In Sonnet 25, the author speaks of noble people who "boast" "proud titles", who have "public honour" and are "famous" for their noble achievements. He compares this with his own lesser social position due to lesser good "fortune" that "bars" him from the fate enjoyed by those "in favour with their stars". But he comforts himself in the love of his partner and that others' "boasts" may be destroyed by one fell swoop.
How could Edward de Vere, a nobleman, who "boasted proud titles", write a sonnet in which he looks enviably on the good fortune of noble
people and explicitly states that that is a privilege from which "fortune" has "barred" him?
Clearly, this sonnet reinforces the common man status of the author as revealed elsewhere, such as Sonnet 81.
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlooked-for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for might,
After a thousand victories once foiled
Is from the book of honour razèd quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.
Then happy I, that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
.
 
12. SONNET 125
.
In Sonnet 125, the author speaks of the procession of royalty and nobility and passes comment on the event and those that indulge in it. He
comments as an observer looking on at this procession and distinguishes the indulgences of those that take part in it from what he finds
important in life. He asks whether it means anything to him if he "bore the canopy" (a privilege of the Lord Great Chamberlain). He speaks
again of the transient "form and favour" that these nobles rely on compared to the "mutual render" that he enjoys with his lover, and describes
the obsequious behaviour that they indulge in as that of "pitiful thrivers". In an emphatic riposte at the start of the 3rd. quatrain he
unequivocally states "No", that his kind of obsequity is to his lover, and that he may be "poor but free".
Edward de Vere was the Lord Great Chamberlain, who did bear the canopy, an act of great honour and privilege for a man who spent his adult life adding to his own proud titles and lobbying each year to gain the ultimate Order of the Garter. This is the very sonnet where William Shakespeare meets Edward de Vere and clearly contrasts the indulgent self-aggrandisement of de Vere with the more modest and more meaningful substance of himself.
Were ’t aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity
Which proves more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all and more by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet forgoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers in their gazing spent?
No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mixed with seconds, knows no art
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborned informer! A true soul
When most impeached stands least in thy control.
.

13. SONNET 91
In Sonnet 91, the author again passes comment on the activities and indulgences of nobility. He speaks of their "high birth", "skill", "wealth", "garments", "hawks and hounds", "horse", and the social competitiveness of these people in how they try and better each other "above the rest". At no time does he identify himself with these people - these are all "their" activities. He then returns with a resolute rejection that "these particulars are not my measure" and that he "betters" them all with "one general best" that is "better than high birth" to him which is the love of his subject. He clearly states that he does not have these other indulgences, just that of his love: "wretched in this alone".
Edward de Vere enjoyed all of these privileges. He was not "wretched in this alone" but instead indulged in many of the noble pursuits that Shakespeare has listed as their's and is therefore distinct from the author of this Sonnet.
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their body’s force,
Some in their garments (though new-fangled ill),
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse,
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest.
But these particulars are not my measure;
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments’ cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be,
And having thee of all men’s pride I boast,
Wretched in this alone: that thou mayst take
All this away, and me most wretched make.
.

14. SONNET 71
In Sonnet 71, the author again contemplates his own passing and his dwelling with the "worms" of his elsewhere-referenced "common grave". He again makes reference to his own name which again has the status of a commoner: no more than "my poor name".

How can "Edward de Vere, 17th. Earl of Oxford, Viscount Bulbeck, Lord Great Chamberlain", be called a "poor name"?

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
.

15. SONNET 124
In Sonnet 124, the author expresses what appears to be his love for his country or "state" and that this is not accidental nor blind compliance nor sways with the times but is something that is deeply felt loyalty. He refers to the "child of state" being left fatherless had things turned out differently and calls witness to the "fools of time, Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime".
If this is a sonnet regarding the threat to state (see a critique of this sonnet here) then it can surely only refer to the Gunpowder Plot of November 4, 1605 where the two Houses of Parliament, its members, and King James I would have been blown up had Guy Fawkes and his accomplices not been discovered after a tip-off and arrested in the cellars of Parliament.
How could de Vere be the author of this sonnet when he died over a year before this event?
Conversely, William Shakespeare had 11 more years to live.
If my dear love were but the child of state
It might for fortune’s bastard be unfathered,
As subject to time’s love or to time’s hate,
Weeds among weeds or flowers with flowers gathered.
No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thrallèd discontent
Whereto th’ inviting time our fashion calls.
It fears not policy, that heretic
Which works on leases of short-numbered hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers.
To this I witness call the fools of time,
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.
.

16. SONNET 145
In Sonnet 145 the author indulges in further puns on a name, in this instance, his lover's name of "Hathaway".
He refers to the name of his lover that "sounds" like "I hate" which is "altered with an end that followed it" to make "Hathaway". She removes the implication of hate in the first part of her name with the second part of her name that literally takes away that implication. In ""I hate” from hate away she threw", the poet deliberately places the words "hate" and "away" together to emphasise what he is punning on. Indeed, the line makes no sense without it being a pun on "Hathaway".
William Shakespeare of Stratford's wife was, of course, Anne Hathaway.
Those lips that love’s own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said “I hate”
To me that languished for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet:
“I hate” she altered with an end
That followed it as gentle day
Doth follow night who, like a fiend,
From heaven to hell is flown away.
“I hate” from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying “not you.”
.

17. SONNET 78
Oxfordians claim that the works of Shakespeare must have been produced by a man of great learning, a man of high education and erudition. They ridicule William Shakespeare of Stratford as being "uncouth", "ignorant" and "untutored", being only a glove-maker's son from the backwater of Stratford. They insist that only a man of Oxford's education could have written such magnificent works.
In Sonnet 78, the author addresses the matter of his own learning compared to others', arguably answering those of his own era who likely looked down on him as a country bumpkin with an education going no higher than Stratford Grammar School. With considerable self-deprecation he refers to himself as having been "dumb" and having had "heavy ignorance" which his patron (the subject of this sonnet) has inspired to transform into a high-flyer. He magnanimously acknowledges the abilities of his "learned" rivals who already had wings to fly but have had them embellished by the subject. In the final couplet, the author explicitly speaks of how his talent, and inspiration, have transformed him from "rude ignorance" to a position "as high as learning", a position already occupied by his "learned" rivals.
Edward de Vere gained a BA from Cambridge University, an MA from Oxford University and studied law at age 17. Such a man does not describe himself as being of "rude ignorance" and having "advanced" to a position of "learning" that he already occupies.
So oft have I invoked thee for my muse
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use,
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
Have added feathers to the learned's wing
And given grace a double majesty.
Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
Whose influence is thine and born of thee,
In others' works thou dost but mend the style,
And arts with thy sweet graces graced be.
But thou art all my art, and dost advance
As high as learning my rude ignorance.
.

18. SONNET 111
In Sonnet 111 the author speaks of his lack of good fortune and reveals in lines 3 & 4 that his means of making a living is acting in the public theatres for which he is publicly known which results in him having "public manners". He goes on to say in line 5 that his name is branded as a result of his acting which was regarded as a lowly public occupation during his time. By way of this sonnet of course, he demonstrates that he is also an accomplished writer.

Edward de Vere, 17th. Earl of Oxford, inherited vast tracts of land and property as a nobleman; he was Lord Great Chamberlain; he had tin mine investments in Cornwall; he could afford to travel extensively in Europe and even built a house in Venice. It is absurd to suggest that such a man's only means of earning a living was as an actor on the public stage and that as a nobleman he had only "public manners".

Conversely, that's exactly what we know about the commoner, William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon.

O, for my sake do you with fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide
Than public means which public manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Pity me then, and wish I were renewed,
Whilst like a willing patient I will drink
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection;
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance to correct correction.
Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.
.

19. IGNORANCE OF THE CONTINENT
Oxfordians claim that the author must have had a detailed knowledge of the Continent, especially of Italy, in order to have written the plays. They cite their man's extensive tour of Italy as clear evidence of him having the first-hand knowledge they claim is required of that country to have written the plays. But the plays clearly show that Shakespeare didn't have an intimate knowledge of the Continent. In fact, the basic errors he makes describing the Continent are consistent with someone who had never even visited there.
In The Winter's Tale he writes of a shipwreck on the coast of Bohemia:
Antigonus: "Thou art perfect then our ship hath touched upon the deserts of Bohemia?"
Mariner: "Ay, my lord, and fear we have landed in ill time."
Act 3, Scene 3
But Bohemia (Czechoslovakia) is land-locked. It doesn't have a shoreline.
In Two Gentlemen of Verona he writes of travelling by ship between Milan and Verona:
Valentine: "But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee that art a votary to fond desire? Once more adieu. My father at the road expects my coming, there to see me shipped."
Proteus: "And thither will I bring thee, Valentine."
Valentine: "Sweet Proteus, no. Now let us take our leave. To Milan."
Act 1, Scene 1
Speed: "Sir Proteus, save you. Saw you my master?"
Proteus: "But now he parted hence to embark for Milan."
Speed: "Twenty to one, then, he is shipped already"
Act 1, Scene 1
Proteus: "Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck"
Act 1, Scene 1
Second Outlaw: "Whither travel you?"
Valentine: "To Verona."
First Outlaw: "Whence came you?"
Valentine: "From Milan."
Act 4, Scene 1
But Verona and Milan are inland cities. No ship could travel between the two.

Elsewhere in the same play he writes of the need to catch the tide at Verona in order to set sail:

Panthino: "Lance, away, away, aboard. Thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What’s the matter? Why weep’st thou, man? Away, ass, you’ll lose the tide if you tarry any longer."

Act 2, Scene 3

There is no way that one could lose the tide at Verona. The Adriatic Sea in general has insignificant tides of less than 2 metres that are irrelevant to a ship's ability to set sail. The water levels are virtually constant at all times. Conversely, the River Thames has a large tide that large vessels have to take account of for setting sail. No doubt the London-based playwright who hadn't visited Italy was writing what he knew of London and its river leading to the sea, not what he obviously didn't know of Verona.

In The Tempest he writes of travelling by barque (three-masted ship) from Milan:
Prosporo: "Fated to th’ purpose did Antonio open the gates of Milan; and, i’ th’ dead of darkness, the ministers for th’ purpose hurried thence me and thy crying self...they hurried us aboard a barque, bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared a rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged nor tackle, sail, nor mast—the very rats instinctively have quit it."
Act 1 Scene 2
Again, Milan is not a sea-port.
In The Taming of the Shrew the author writes of Tranio's father being a sailmaker in Bergamo:
Vincentio: "Thy father! O villain, he is a sailmaker in Bergamo."
But Bergamo is in the foothills of the Italian Alps, over 130 kilometres from the nearest coast - one of the oddest places possible in Italy to locate a sail-making business.
Elsewhere in the same play, he has Padua as a sea-port:
Lucentio: "If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore...For in a quarrel since I came ashore."
Act 1, Scene 1
But Padua is an inland city.
And again in the same play, Mantuan ships are temporarily kept at Venice:
Tranio: "’Tis death for anyone in Mantua to come to Padua. Know you not the cause? Your ships are stayed at Venice, and the Duke, for private quarrel ’twixt your Duke and him."
But Mantua is an inland city, no ship could go there.
Again, in the same play, Padua is placed within the region of Lombardy:
Lucentio: "Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua, nursery of arts, I am arrived fore fruitful Lombardy."
Act 1, Scene 1
But Padua has never been within the region of Lombardy. It has never been less than 80 kilometres outside of it.

Especially interesting is how and why one would embark on a 1,000 mile, 2-week voyage from Verona to Milan as in Two Gentlemen of Verona when to achieve it one would have to sail from Verona down the Adige River to the Adriatic, proceed south to the Ionian Sea then up the Tyrrhenian (around the complete length of Italy) then on to Genoa before a final 80 mile overland trip to Milan itself. Particularly when one could simply avoid the voyage altogether and simply make the 80 mile overland trip from Verona direct to Milan using the excellent roads in use between the 2 cities since Roman times. The sailing trip is a mere incidental in the play included by virtue of the misapprehension Shakespeare had of these 2 cities rather than any dramatic potential they provided.

How could Edward de Vere, who toured Northern Italy for 10 months be so ignorant of Italy's geography?

Conversely, William Shakespeare is not known to have actually visited the Continent so may well make these kinds of mistakes that are not significant to the actual functioning of the plays but are, nevertheless, still errors.

20. SPELLING OF OXFORD's NAME
The Earl of Oxford is referred to in Shakespeare's plays several times, e.g.:.
King Edward: "Who told me, in the field at Tewkesbury,
                    When Oxford had me down, he rescued me."
Richard III, Act 2, Scene 1
In every single instance, the Earl is referred to as "Oxford" which fits the 10 syllables per line required of the iambic pentameter. Yet in all of Oxford's own letters that still survive he always referred to himself as the 3-syllable "Oxenford" (or variations of that spelling, such as: "Oxinforde"):
"Your loving and assured friend and Brother. Edward Oxenford"
Oxford to Cecil, July 1600
If the Earl of Oxenford was the author, why would he consistently spell his name one way yet spell it a completely different way in the plays?
Clearly, the author was someone other than the Earl of Oxenford himself.

21. PUNNING ON A STRATFORD FRIEND

The names and occupations of Shakespeare's fellow Stratford townsfolk whom he might well have alluded to in his plays and sonnets are now largely lost to us after 400 years, yet in Cymbeline we have:

Lucius: "’Lack, good youth, Thou mov’st no less with thy complaining than Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend."
Imogen: "Richard du Champ." (Aside) "If I do lie and do No harm by it, though the gods hear I hope they’ll pardon it. (Aloud) Say you, sir?"
Lucius: "Thy name?"
Imogen: "Fidele, sir."

Richard du Champ is French for Richard Field. Richard Field (1561-1624) was a native of Stratford-upon-Avon and 3 years Shakespeare's senior. He was the son of Henry Field who was a Stratford tanner whose goods were evaluated by Shakespeare's father, a glovemaker, in 1592. Richard Field moved to London in 1579 and became a printer printing Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis in 1593, The Rape of Lucrece in 1594 and Love's Martyr in 1601 that includes Shakespeare's The Phoenix and the Turtle. The French pun on Richard Field of Stratford's name is further augmented by a Latin pun on his name in Fidele, which is of course an anagram of "Field". In addition, Fidele's occupation is as a page to Richard du Champ, "page" being a further obvious printing pun on Richard Field's occupation.

We know that Richard Field was prone to this type of punning on his own name himself as he printed several works between 1596 and 1600 by the Italian Cipriano de Valera, including Dos tratados, del Papa y de la Missa under the name "Ricardo del Campo", which is of course Italian for "Richard Field".

William Shakespeare of Stratford's connections with Richard Field of Stratford are very well-documented and include the same home town, their fathers' Stratford business dealings and Field's professional printing of Shakespeare's plays. Edward de Vere's connections with Richard Field however were non-existent.


22. SHAKESPEARE's COAT OF ARMS

In 1596, William's father, John Shakespeare, was granted a coat of arms, motto and the right to the title "Gentleman". He had first applied for this in the 1570's but it wasn't until his application in 1596 that he was successful, apparently due to his son's fame giving the Shakespeare's name a higher stature or profile. The grant, as normal, stipulates that the coat of arms, motto and title of "Gentleman" are bestowed on John Shakespeare and all of his descendants. William Shakespeare thereafter was referred to as "William Shakespeare, Gent.". The assignment was also referred to by Ben Jonson in his play Every Man Out of His Humour in which Shakespeare's motto, Non sanz droicht (meaning "Not without right"), is parodied as "Not without mustard". This play was acted no later than 1599 and included William Shakespeare in the cast as Sogliardo, the recipient of this amusing jibe.

In 1602, Peter Brooke, the Yorkshire Herald, accused Sir William Dethick (Garter King-of-Arms) and his associate Camden (Clarenceux King-of-Arms) of "elevating base persons, and assigning devices already in use". In his accusation, Brooke objected to 23 beneficiaries of entitlement and included a drawing of the Shakespeare application with its reference to William Shakespeare's occupation of "Ye Player" (Actor), citing this as the "appellation player...no doubt pejoratively intended".

In The Merchant of Venice, a suitor to Portia arrives to choose from the 3 caskets. His name is the Prince of Aragon which suitably alludes to the nobleman's arrogance. Aragon is excessively conscious of his social position, and insists that he is different from other men, particularly commoners: he will not “jump with common spirits” nor “rank me with the barbarous multitudes”. He meditates on the subject of nobility who have “the stamp of merit” and are “the true seed of honour”, deploring the fact that “low peasantry” who are “the chaff and ruin of the times” can be found wearing “undeserved dignity”:

Aragon: "I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why then, to thee, thou silver treasure-house.
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear.
“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves”—
And well said too, for who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.
O, that estates, degrees, and offices
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare,
How many be commanded that command?
How much low peasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seed of honour, and how much honour
Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times
To be new varnished?"

Act 2, Scene 9

After this remarkable conceit in which he convinces himself of how wonderful he is and how odious commoners who obtain titles are, he opens the silver casket, and wins not Portia but instead “the portrait of a blinking idiot...a fool's head”:

Aragon: "What’s here? The portrait of a blinking idiot
Presenting me a schedule. I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia!
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings!
“Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.”
Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head?"

Act 2, Scene 9

The correlation between the objections to Shakespeare's grant of a coat of arms and this scene couldn't be any clearer and the satisfaction that Shakespeare, the middle-class commoner, must have gained in this riposte to the arrogant nobleman of a “portrait of a blinking idiot...a fool's head” is almost palpable.

Conversely, how could a nobleman like the Earl of Oxford with a raft of titles and who annually lobbied for the ultimate title of Knight of the Garter, portray such a similarly conceited nobleman literally as an “idiot” and a “fool” in a scene that perfectly mirrors the granting of arms to William Shakespeare, Gentleman?


23. OXFORD's DISLIKE OF ITALY

The Shakespeare canon displays an obvious appreciation of Italy as a cultural centre of the arts and as a country, despite the author evidently not having first-hand knowledge of the country as discussed in point 19 above. Several plays are set in Italy such as The Two Gentlemen of Verona, The Merchant of Venice, Romeo & Juliet, and several plays have Italian sources as their inspiration.

The father of the sonnet form was the Italian poet Petrarch, and the sonnet is of course the poetic form that Shakespeare went on to make his own and virtually perfect. Petrarch was also noted for centring his sonnets on a series of 6 themes comprising: Love, Chastity, Death, Fame, Time and Eternity, and Shakespeare wrote many sonnets that have the Petrarchan themes of Love, Death, Time and Eternity at their centre and he even goes so far as to spoof Petrarchan sentiments in Sonnet 130.

Italy as a country is also portrayed with appreciation and reverence: "higher Italy", "proud Italy", "hearing us praise our loves of Italy", "fruitful Italy", "The pleasant garden of great Italy", "fair Verona", etc.

Edward de Vere's feelings for Italy though, were radically and strikingly different. On 24 September 1575, Oxford wrote to Lord Burghley from Venice:

"Your Lordship seems desirous to know how I like Italy, what is my intention, in travel, and when I mean to return; for my liking of Italy, my lord I am glad I have seen it, and I care not ever to see it any more."

Remarkably, Oxford's opinion of Italy, whilst still residing in Venice, the "Queen of the Adriatic", is that he wouldn't care if he never saw the country again. He goes on:

"unless it be to serve my prince or country."

So, he would only return to Italy if it were under instruction from Lord Burghley or Queen Elizabeth herself. Furthermore:

"For my intention to travel, I am desirous to see more of Germany, wherefore I shall desire your Lordship with my Lord of Leicester, to procure me the next summer, to continue my licence at the end of which I mean undoubtedly to return."

Oxford's next travel plans then are to visit Germany again before returning home to England. So there is no question that Oxford has become weary of travelling or become homesick, he is intent on continuing his touring, but it is Italy itself that he has developed no liking for. Just in case there is any doubt remaining he concludes:

"I thought to have seen Spain, but by Italy, I guess the worse."

He had considered visiting Spain as part of his tour yet abandoned such plans as, judging by his experience of Italy, another Latinate country, he feared the worse.

Oxford never returned to Italy, and in all his subsequent correspondence that still survives today, he expresses no further interest in Italy. He visited the country, he didn't like it, and he never returned nor mentioned it again. The complete antithesis of the effect that Italy had on the author of the Shakespeare canon.


24. OXFORD's KNOWN INCOMPETENCE IN POETRY

One of the best ways of determining Oxford's viability in writing the works of William Shakespeare is to compare his own writings with that of Shakespeare. Oxford was a published poet and playwright himself: a selection of Oxford's poetry appeared in a 1575 publication named Paradise of Dainty Devices and Puttenham referred to a comedy that Oxford had at least a hand in that is now lost.

An example of Oxford's poetic skills is Vision of a Fair Maid with Echo Verses:

Sitting alone upon my thoughts in melancholy mood,
In sight of sea, and at my back an ancient hoary wood,
I saw a fair young lady come her secret fears to wail,
Clad all in colour of a nun, and covered with a veil.
Yet (for the day was calm and clear) I might discern her face,
As one might see a damask rose hid under crystal glass.

Three times with her soft hand full hard on her left side she knocks,
And sighed so sore as might have made some pity in the rocks.
From sighs and shedding amber tears into sweet song she brake,
When thus the Echo answer'd her to every word she spake.

Oh heavens, who was the first that bred in me this fever? - Vere<.
Who was the first that gave the wound, whose fear I wear for ever? - Vere.
What tyrant, Cupid, to my harm, usurps thy golden quiver? - Vere<.
What wight first caught this heart, and can from bondage it deliver? - Vere.

Yet who doth most adore this wight, oh hollow caves tell true? - You.
What nymph deserves his liking best yet doth in sorrow rue? - You.
What makes him not reward good will with some reward or ruth? - Youth.
What makes him show besides his birth such pride and such untruth? - Youth.

May I his favour match with love if he my love will try? - Ay.
May I requite his birth with faith? Then faithful will I die? - Ay.
And I that knew this lady well, said, Lord, how great a miracle,
To her how Echo told the truth as true as Phoebus oracle.

The quality of any item of literature is in some part a subjective judgement, but I would contend that the poetic competence manifested in this poem of Oxford's is strikingly and very substantially inferior to anything written by William Shakespeare. The metre varies inconsistently between fourteen/fifteen/sixteen syllables, there is no poetic dynamism embedded in the verse as exemplified in Shakespeare's, there is little discipline of structure in the poem, and the echoes of "Vere", "You", "Youth" and "Ay" are cringingly lame as are the echoed puns on Vere's name. This is just a very poor, forgettable effort that bears no comparison with anything written by William Shakespeare.

An even better comparison can be made between the competence of Shakespeare and the amateur hand of Oxford in his sonnet, Love thy Choice:

Who taught thee first to sigh, alas, my heart?
Who taught thy tongue the woeful words of plaint?
Who filled your eyes with tears of bitter smart?
Who gave thee grief and made thy joys to faint?
Who first did paint with colours pale thy face?
Who first did break thy sleeps of quiet rest?
Above the rest in court who gave thee grace?
Who made thee strive in honour to be best?
In constant truth to bide so firm and sure,
To scorn the world regarding but thy friends?
With patient mind each passion to endure,
In one desire to settle to the end?
  Love then thy choice wherein such choice thou bind,
  As nought but death may ever change thy mind.

The first feature of this sonnet that strikes the reader is its dum-de-dum plainness, again betraying the inexpert hand of the writer. No answers are provided to the many attention-seeking questions the author posits unlike Shakespeare's poetry that always resolves within itself. The repeated uses of words such as rest and choice are also glaringly un-Shakespearean in style - if Shakespeare ever repeated a word in his poems each occurrence would always utilise a different meaning of that word, not the same, single, one-dimensional repeated meaning of a word such as choice that Oxford clumsily uses here. The structure of the poem is also strikingly amorphous, lacking the natural pauses for thought between quatrains, and especially the third quatrain.

A notorious example of Oxford's lack of poetic talent is provided in the following, speculatively entitled Loss of Good Name:

Fram'd in the front of forlorn hope past all recovery,
I stayless stand, to abide the shock of shame and infamy.
My life, through ling'ring long, is lodg'd in lair of loathsome ways;
My death delay'd to keep from life the harm of hapless days.
My sprites, my heart, my wit and force, in deep distress are drown'd;
The only loss of my good name is of these griefs the ground.

And since my mind, my wit, my head, my voice and tongue are weak,
To utter, move, devise, conceive, sound forth, declare and speak,
Such piercing plaints as answer might, or would my woeful case,
Help crave I must, and crave I will, with tears upon my face,
Of all that may in heaven or hell, in earth or air be found,
To wail with me this loss of mine, as of these griefs the ground.

Help Gods, help saints, help sprites and powers that in the heaven do dwell,
Help ye that are aye wont to wail, ye howling hounds of hell;
Help man, help beasts, help birds and worms, that on the earth do toil;
Help fish, help fowl, that flock and feed upon the salt sea soil,
Help echo that in air doth flee, shrill voices to resound,
To wail this loss of my good name, as of these griefs the ground.

The extreme alliteration in this poem is its most striking failure that has no parallel anywhere in the Shakespeare canon. We can see Oxford's simple-minded thinking in writing this poem: the first line is designed to alliterate on the letter "f"; the second on "s"; the third on "l"; etc. The third line in particular is an appallingly bad example of how to strangle a poem by excessive alliteration: "My life, through ling'ring long, is lodg'd in lair of loathsome ways;". And the author again displays the distinctively un-Shakespearean habit of monotonously repeating words or phrases with the exact same meaning, such as my wit. This poem is evidently one of Oxford's later works with its sentiments of impending death and its lines of: "My life, through ling'ring long", yet it betrays an exceptional naivety of poetic style and ability.

Excessive and clumsy alliteration, is in fact, a distinct feature of Oxford's poems as demonstrated again in Revenge of Wrong:

Fain would I sing, but fury makes me fret,
And Rage hath sworn to seek revenge of wrong;
My mazed mind in malice so is set,
As Death shall daunt my deadly dolours long;
Patience perforce is such a pinching pain,
As die I will, or suffer wrong again.

I am no sot, to suffer such abuse
As doth bereave my heart of his delight;
Nor will I frame myself to such as use,
With calm consent, to suffer such despite;
No quiet sleep shall once possess mine eye
Till Wit have wrought his will on Injury.

My heart shall fail, and hand shall lose his force,
But some device shall pay despite his due;
And Fury shall consume my careful course,
Or raze the ground whereon my sorrow grew.
Lo, thus in rage of ruthful mind refus'd,
I rest reveng'd on whom I am abus'd.

The highlighted examples are particularly execrable examples of inept alliteration.

Finally, Oxford's ego is demonstrated in his ditty Were I a King:

Were I a king I might command content;
Were I obscure unknown would be my cares,
And were I dead no thoughts should me torment,
Nor words, nor wrongs, nor love, nor hate, nor fears;
A doubtful choice of these things which to crave,
A kingdom or a cottage or a grave.

to which Sidney, demonstrating the contempt in which Oxford was held, replied:

Wert thou a King yet not command content,
Since empire none thy mind could yet suffice,
Wert thou obscure still cares would thee torment;
But wert thou dead, all care and sorrow dies;
An easy choice of these things which to crave,
No kingdom nor a cottage but a grave.

All of Oxford's surviving poetry profiles a man who dabbled in verse-writing as a popular contemporary activity but who had no discernible proficiency in it. Predictable techniques such as alliteration are clumsily and excessively employed in a naive and obvious manner that is entirely incompatible with the mastery and deftness of Shakespeare's sonnet writing that is clearly in a completely different league.


25. SHAKESPEARE's TWINS IN THE CANON

William Shakespeare of Stratford had 3 children: Susanna, and the twins Judith and Hamnet. At the age of 11 in 1596, Hamnet died. Twins feature to an unusual degree in the Shakespeare canon that may be reflect the prominence of the author's experience and knowledge of twins in his own life:

Oxford certainly did not have twins, but whilst the prevalence of twins in the Shakespeare canon is not proof of anything in itself, the author's preoccupation with such characters is noteworthy.

26. BALDNESS AS A MEASURE OF INTELLIGENCE

In The Comedy of Errors, there is an interesting dialogue between Dromio of Syracuse and Antipholus of Syracuse in which the issue of baldness is discussed and the conclusion made by Dromio that the more receding a man's hairline, the more intelligence he has:

Dromio: "There’s no time for a man to recover his hair that grows bald by nature."
Antipholus: "May he not do it by fine and recovery?"
Dromio: "Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover the lost hair of another man."
Antipholus: "Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?"
Dromio: "Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted men in hair he hath given them in wit."

So, hirsuteness is something that is bestowed on beasts and a man's hair is inversely proportional to his wit or intelligence.

We know from his portraits that Oxford had a full head of hair and we all know that Shakespeare had a famously receding hairline.


References:
The Oxford Shakespeare Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Oxford University Press - W.J. Craig
 The Reader's Encyclopedia of Shakespeare - MJF Books, New York - Campbell & Quinn
Asimov's Guide to Shakespeare - Wings Books, New York - Isaac Asimov
Terry Ross' & David Kathman's Shakespeare Authorship site: http://shakespeareauthorship.com/
Peter Farey's deduction of the "Richard Field" references in point 21: http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm
Anthony Nelson's research of Oxford's life and letters: http://violet.berkeley.edu/~ahnelson/authorsh.html
Robert Stonehouse's analysis of Shakespeare's sonnet writing style showing that if Shakespeare ever repeated a word in his poems each occurrence would always utilise a different meaning of that word: ew65@bcs.org.uk

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Critical text © NigelDavies.home@Virgin.net