of the other arm, whilst the agony expressed in his face, whence the blood had all rushed, leaving it of a deadly paleness, and the strange manner in which he began twisting his body, bespoke in him some terrible suffering; but at this his companion laughed outright.

"Caught in thine own trap!" cried his triumphant partner in guilt. traitor so well served!

“O' my life, never was What? After I had done

at thy bidding all manner of villanies, a dog's death was to be my reward; and so thou get rid of every evidence of thy matchless infamy! Prythee, my lord, stop up thy key-hole whilst preparing to poison thy familiars, when thou hast sent them out of the way awhile, else they may do as I have done, spy thy intention, and on their return make so bold as change the drugged cup for another, and so the poisoner get the poison for himself."

Here the knight laughed again more scornfully than before. At this, his lord made a convulsive effort to rise-his horrible fierce looks distorted as if with the most racking intolerable pains-his eyes seeming to dilate to a wonderful bigness, and flashing forth most dreadful deadly malice-his teeth gnashing together, and his every limb startling and trembling with the mightiness of his agony; but as soon as he had got himself to stand upright, his eyes rolled in their sockets most frightfully; violent fierce

spasms and convulsions shook him in every partthe uplifted dagger dropped from his nerveless grasp, and the next moment its lordly owner fell to the ground a corpse.

"So ends my Lord of Leicester!" exclaimed his villainous associate, as he approached the body. "Truly, a very suitable ending. But it will scarce be proper to leave him here, else I may chance to follow him more quickly than I desire." Saying this, Sir Piers carefully placed the dead man leaning back in his seat as if he slept, and then hurried out of the chamber. Thus finished his career the most accomplished villain of his age, who was so admirable a master of duplicity, that his real character was suspected of but few; and so cautious in the doing of his villainies, that he rarely left the slightest ground for suspicion. At last, his over-anxiety to secure himself ended in his own destruction, as hath been related. Nevertheless, few knew him to be what he was; and by those few he was so thoroughly detested for his extraordinary craft and treachery, that amongst them he was usually called by the nickname of "The Gypsey." By the majority he hath been held in remembrance as "The Great Earl of Leicester;" but his title to such greatness as they would confer on him, was grounded on his magnificence, his unrivalled power in the kingdom, and the consummate policy of his endeavours to retain

it. He was a brilliant character, but it was the brilliance that cometh of a base metal, where the art used to give it a shining appearance out of all comparison exceedeth the value of the stuff on which it is exerted.

Many such men there are, who by their high position in the social fabric and wondrous subtlety in outwardly conforming with established opinions, pass for monuments worthy of admiration and reverence; whilst divers of the truly great, who have no other title than honesty, and little wealth beyond their daily crust, are passed over as of no account, and all that cometh of their noble aims as far as the world is concerned-is the oblivion of an unhonoured grave. Nevertheless, be sure Nature taketh a proper heed of these last, and whenever that vile partial chronicler, History, braggeth most loudly of his proud lords and sanguinary conquerors, she whispers in the ears of all just men, the lovingkindnesses, the generous self-denials, the true nobility, and imperishable worth of her own peerage. Thus, among the well-judging few, models of true greatness are ever to be found worthy of close copying, which, age after age, lead to the production of others of a like merit; and thus nature fulfilleth the mission of truth, and laugheth the mere brags of history to utter and everlasting scorn.

CHAPTER X.

Behaviour, what wert thou,

Till this man showed thee? and what art thou now?

SHAKSPEARE.

These are the arks, the trophies I erect,
That fortify thy name against old age;
And these thy sacred virtues must protect
Against the dark, and Time's consuming rage:
Though the error of my youth they may discover
Suffice they shew-I lived and was thy lover.

Love that looks still on your eyes,

Though the winter have begun

To benumb our arteries,

Shall not want the summer's sun.

Love, that still may see your cheeks,
Where all rareness still reposes,

Is a fool, if e'er he seeks

Other lilies, other roses.

DANIEL.

BROWNE.

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE sat in a miserable garret which boasted of no better furniture than an old table, on which were some books and

papers, an old stool to match, whereon he was sitting, a truckle bed of a like humbleness, that served for his nightly rest; and a worm-eaten chest that played the part of cupboard, of press, and of book-case also. The casement was small and dirty, and the wainscot and ceiling crumbling in many places. I said amiss

when I asserted there was no better furniture in the chamber, for there was in it its gifted tenant; and this made the poor place to be more richly furnished than could have been the stateliest hall throughout the kingdom. Mayhap he was studying of a part in some play, for he sat leaning his arms on the table, with his hands supporting his head immediately over a written paper; and so serious was he in this studying, that he heard not the opening of the door, and the entrance of a visitor.

"Ha! there thou art, by this hand!" exclaimed Master Greene, the play-writer, with as much seeming gladness as though the young player was his dearest friend; and thereupon he went hastily up to him, and shook him famously by the hand, enquired after his health, and making such bountiful show of friendship as was quite refreshing to see. Master Shakspeare was courteous as was his wont; but still he could not help marvelling what brought his visitor to him, for they never had been on any notable intimacy. After a while, Master Greene sat himself on the end of the bed, for he would not accept of the stool, though it was pressed on him with some urgency. Then he talked of the Queen of Scots' execution, and the last conspiracy of the papists, and other matters of news, as glibly as an intelligencer; to which the other listened with the utmost civilness, joining in the discourse when it seemed necessary, yet wondering exceedingly such a person should