Or, expressed differently:
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: Fletcher, as a bishop’s son surely the most culturally elevated of the thirteen, barely ranks above obscure Robert Wilson in vocabulary. It may seem predictable that university wits like Greene, Marlowe, or Peele should be fonder of verbal variety than Shakespeare, but that Dekker uses over 100 more distinct words per play than him may come as a surprise.
Лично я - убежденный стратфордианец, и из всех конспирологических теорий вокруг Шекспира мне нравится только нил-геймановская (в "Сэндмене").