Its congener, the Wood strawberry, was the burden of one of the London
street cries four hundred years ago; and to-day the same cry, in some
language or other, echoes around the northern hemisphere as one of the
inevitable and welcome sounds of spring and early summer.

But few, perhaps, associate this lovely little fruit, that is almost
as delicate and shy as the anemone, with tragedy; and yet its chief
poetical associations are among the darkest and saddest that can be
imagined. Shakespeare's mention of the strawberry in the play of
Richard III. was an unconscious but remarkable illustration of the
second line already quoted from Virgil:--

"Lo, hid within the grass an adder lies."

The bit of history which is the occasion of this allusion is given in
the quaint old English of Sir Thomas More, who thus describes the
entrance to the Council of the terrible "Protector," from whom nothing
good or sacred could be protected. He came "fyrste about IX of the
clocke, saluting them curtesly, and excusing himself that he had been
from them so long, saieing merily that he had been a slepe that day.
And after a little talking with them he said unto the bishop of Elye,
my lord, You have very good strawberries at your gardayne in Holberne,
I require you let us have a messe of them." He who has raised fine
fruit will know how eagerly the flattered bishop obeyed. According
to the poet, the dissembler also leaves the apartment, with his
unscrupulous ally, Buckingham.

"Where is my lord protector? I have sent
For these strawberries,"