Words, words, words

Here's a fascinating piece by Holger Symes on Shakespeare's language.  I knew from reading David Crystal that Will's wordhoard (maybe 20,000 words) is not the dazzling thing imagined by bardolaters:  no linguistic supernova but a splendid star amid bright stars.  But until now, I'd never seen his lexicon compared with that of his playwright peers.  Daniel Craig has done just that, and found that Shakespeare's store of words is not remarkable.  It's what he does with them that is astounding.

Symes gives "his table of playwrights ranked by how many different words they use on average [in a play]":

                            1. Webster

                           2. Dekker

                           3. Peele

                           4. Marlowe

                           5. Jonson

                           6. Greene

                           7. Shakespeare

                           8. Lyly

                           9. Chapman

                           10. Heywood

                           11. Middleton

                           12. Fletcher

                           13. Wilson

"Or, expressed differently [all this is Symes]:

                           1. Coach-maker’s son, no university education, probably attended the Middle Temple

                           2. Of obscure, possibly Dutch, origin

                           3. Clerk’s son, B.A. and M.A., Oxford

                           4. Cobbler’s son, B.A. and M.A., Cambridge

                           5. Bricklayer’s son (to all intents and purposes), no university education

                           6. Saddler’s or innkeeper’s son, B.A. and M.A., Cambridge; M.A., Oxford

                           7. Glover’s son, no university education

                           8. Notary’s son (and from a leading humanist family), B.A. and M.A., Oxford

                           9. Yeoman’s son, no evidence of university education

                           10. Rector’s son, some university education (Cambridge), degree uncertain; though possibly for a while Fellow of Peterhouse

                           11. Bricklayer’s son, some university education (Oxford), but no degree

                           12. Minister’s (later bishop’s) son, almost certainly B.A. and M.A. (Cambridge)

                           13. Of obscure origin; a yeoman

"In other words, there appears to be no direct connection between levels of formal education and verbal prodigiousness..."

So much (yet again) for the anti-Stratfordian obsession with birth and breeding.  (Not that Oxford's education didn't fizzle out at thirteen, when his tutor quit:  "I clearly see that my work for the Earl of Oxford cannot be much longer required.")

And for dessert, Shapiro's latest jibe:  "I have no problem if Roland Emmerich wants to drink the Kool-Aid, but I do have a problem when it's doled out in small cups to school kids."

Nine