light raillery on the other, ever maintained between these remarkable men an intercourse of kindness and esteem.

It may readily be conceived, therefore, that when the company at New-Place sate down to dinner, which they did almost instantly after Ben had quaffed off his glass of Canary, and had received the salutations of the newly arrived party, few, if any, would be willing to break in upon those enquiries and recollections which very soon began to occupy the feelings, and, in a great measure, the conversation of the longseparated poets. The business and routine of the table, however, and the necessary attention on the part of Shakspeare to his guests, admitted, for a time, of little, save general remark; nor was Ben unmindful of his new associates; he paid the most marked attention to the ladies of his friend's family, and was particularly struck with their visitors from Derbyshire. He was, in fact, not only a skilful physiognomist, but an excellent judge also of female beauty, and he found employment for both tastes in contemplating the appearance of Montchensey and his Helen; the deep traits of sorrow and of suffer

ing in the energetic countenance of the father, and the lovely, and almost seraph-like expression in the features of the daughter.

As soon, however, as the ceremonies of the table were over, and the party had retired to the banqueting-bower in the garden, than Shakspeare, filling to the brim a goblet of Ben's favourite liquor, and turning on him a look of the utmost complacency and kindness, "Health and long life to thee, my noble friend,” he exclaimed," and thrice welcome to the banks of Avon! We shall teach you, ere you leave us, I would fain hope, to love the rural deities."

"I thank you, Master Shakspeare, I heartily thank you," replied Ben, strongly affected, "and I would it were in my power to tarry with you for a while; for you have gotten here a goodly dwelling and a rich; friendship, love and beauty are around you I can well perceive, and that cheerfulness to boot, which glows and kindles in a cup of old Canary, in the which, my most excellent friend, I now crave leave to drink to your happiness, and that of your family and friends."

By my troth, Ben, we'll not part in haste,"

cried Shakspeare; "for so long is it since we have met, and so many enquiries have I to make of thee after our old friends and cronies in the city, that we cannot suffer you to peep in upon us and begone."

"I cry you mercy, Master Shakspeare," rejoined Ben, "but I must away i'the morning. In good truth, I have stretched a point already to reach you; for had it not been that I myself was right anxious to see you, and stood pledged, moreover, to our friends at the Mermaid to report to them touching your health and conditions, I must, perforce, for a season at least, have foregone what I now enjoy."

"Marry, then, we'll make a night on't! and the eve of St. John shall, for thy sake, my dear Ben, ever sound sweeter in mine ears in all time to come. But tell me, how fare our noble brethren at the Mermaid ?"

"Fore heaven! Master Shakspeare, if we have had a jovial night, or a mirth-moving fit, since you left us, I'm a sous'd gurnet! An you do not come amongst us again, our symposia will languish into very dullness, and our wit become as thick as Tewksbury mustard. There's Beau

mont and Fletcher, and Selden, and Cotton, and Carew, choice spirits once, and full of matter, and who were wont to put their whole souls into a jest, sit now all a-mort, and lack a prompter; and as for the theatres, were it not that I now and then present them with a piece of the right quality, full of pith and just conceit, the glass, as it were, and mirror of the times, the profes`sion of an actor would be stark naught, as far at least as novel wares could find it occupation."

May'st thou long live, my worthy friend," exclaimed Shakspeare, "to furnish food and recreation for the learned and judicious; for those who know a good play when they hear it, and have the conscience to praise what they understand! And sure. I am, that whilst the author of the Alchemist survives, neither drama nor actors stand in jeopardy. But speaking of actors, hast thou heard or seen aught, of late, of my kind fellows, Burbage, Hemynge, and Condell? Thrive they, and doff the world aside, as managers and players, or do they talk, after my example, of turning truant to the stage?"

"Odslife! my gentle host," rejoined Ben, · pouring out a sparkling bumper of Canary in

answer to a challenge from Montchensey, "my memory had well nigh played me a treacherous trick. The rogues, as I live, for I told them that I hoped to get a glance of thee as I journeyed into Shropshire, prayed me to tender their best affections, and to say, they were afeard you had forgotten both them and their vocation: and i'faith, my dear Will, I begin to entertain a modicum of their suspicions. But, surely, thou hast not altogether discarded our classic Thames for the banks of the Avon, nor resigned the sock and buskin to dally solely with the nymphs again of thy native stream! 'Slight! I shall expect to hear of thee once more conning doloroso sonnets on love and friendship, and green leaves! and now I think on't, that same noble lord, to whom thou hast dedicated so many of these crambo compositions, for thou knowest, Will, I do not love sonnets, lamented to me the other day, and the tears stood in his eyes as he spoke, that thou shouldst have so completely forsaken thy old haunts at the Globe; adding, in the which I most heartily bore a part, that the stage, with but one or two exceptions,