He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a flovenly, unhandfome corfe
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

With many holiday and lady terms

He queftion'd me: amongst the reft demanded
My prifoners, in your Majefty's behalf.

I then, all fmarting with my wounds, being gall'd
To be fo pefter'd with a popinjay,

Out of my grief, and my impatience,
Anfwer'd, negligently, I know not what;

He fhould, or should not; for he made me mad,
To fee him fhine fo brifk, and fmell fo fweet,

And talk fo like a waiting gentlewoman,

Of guns, and drums, and wounds; (God fave the mark!)

And telling me, the fovereign'ft thing on earth

Was fpermaceti, for an inward bruife;

And that it was great pity, fo it was,
This villainous falt-petre fhould be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow, had destroy'd
So cowardly and but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a foldier.

BRAK.

CHAP. XXII.

CLARENCE'S DREAM.

SHAKSPEARE,

CLARENCE AND BRAKENBURY.

WHY looks your Grace fo heavily to day? CLAR. O, I have pafs'd a miferable night, So full of ugly fights, of ghaftly dreams, That as I am a chriftian faithful man, I would not spend, another fuch a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of difmal terrour was the time!

BRAK. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me.

CLAR. Methought that I had broken from the tow'r,, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy,

And in my company my brother Glo'fter,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England,,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,

That had befall'n us. As we pafs'd along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Glo'fter ftumbled, and in falling
Struck me (that fought to flay him) overboard,

Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Lord! Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!:
What dreadful noife of waters in my ears!
What fights of ugly death within my eyes!
I thought I faw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ;~
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels;

Some lay in dead men's fculls; and in thofe holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in foorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That woo'd the flimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay fcatter'd by.
BRAK. Had you fuch leifure in the time of death,
To gaze upon the fecrets of the deep?

CLAR. Methought I had; and often did I ftrive
To yield the ghoft; but ftill the envious flood
Kept in my foul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaft, and wand'ring air;
But fmother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burft to belch it in the fea..
BRAK, Awak'd you not with this fore agony?

CLAR. No, no; my dream was lengthen'd after life; O then began the tempeft to my foul:

I pafs'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

The firft that there did greet my ftranger-soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cried aloud" What fcourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?"
And fo he vanifh'd. Then came wand'ring by
A fhadow like an angel, with bright hair-
Dabbled in blood, and he fhriek'd out aloud.
"Clarence is come! falfe, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury!
Seize on him, furies! take him to your torments!"
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noife
I trembling wak'd; and for a feafon after
Could not believe but that I was in Hell;
Such terrible impreffion made my dream.

BRAK. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you;.
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

CLAR. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done those things, That now give evidence against my foul,

For Edward's fake; and fee how he requites me! :
O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,,
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :

O fpare my guiltlefs wife, and my poor children !!
I prithee, Brakenbury, stay by me:

My foul is heavy, and I fain would fleep.

SHAKSPEARE.

CHAP. XXIII.

QUEEN MA B.

O THEN I fee Queen Mab has been with you.

She is the fancy's midwife, and she comes
In fhape no bigger than an agate.stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman ;
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart men's nofes as they lie asleep:

Her waggon fpokes made of long fpinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grafshoppers;
The traces, of the fmalleft fpider's web;

The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bones; the lash of film;
Her waggoner, a fmall gray-coated gnat,
Not half fo big as a round little worm,
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid.
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner fquirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this ftate the gallops, night by night,
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
On courtiers' knees, that drea'n on curtfies ftraight:
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees:
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kiffes dream:
Sometimes the gallops o'er a courtier's nofe,
And then dreams he of fmeiling out a fuit:
And fometimes comes the with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling the parfon as he lies afleep;
Then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes the driveth o'er a foldier's neck,
And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambufcadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon

Drums

Drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes;
And being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two,
And fleeps again..

SHAKSPEARE..

CHAP. XXIV.

APOTHECARY.

I

Do remember an apothecary,.

And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,.
Culling of fimples; meagre were his looks;
Sharp Mifery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy fhop a tortoife hung,
An alligator ftuff'd, and other fkins
Of ill fhap'd ffhes; and about his fhelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes:
Green earthen pots, bladders, and mufty feeds,.
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of rofe,
Were thinly fcatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to my felf I faid,
An' if a man did need a poifon now,
Whofe fale is prefent death in Mantua,

Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him.

Oh, this fame thought did but forerun my need,
And this fame needy man must fell it me.

As I remember, this fhould be the house..

SHAKSPEARE..

CHAP. XXV.

ODE TO EVENING..

Ir aught of oaten stop or paftoral song,
Map hope, chafte Eve, to footh thy modeft ear
Like thy own folemn fprings,

Thy fprings, and dying gales,

O Nymph