arm, as if about to make a thrust, with a wonderful frightened aspect, he suddenly put his sword under his arm, and took to his heels as fast as they could carry him along.

"I'll be hanged if thou shalt escape without a cudgelling," cried Harry Daring; and whilst the others were laughing famously at the fellow's cowardice, the barber's apprentice pursued the runaway haberdasher with all the speed he was master of. Ralph Goshawk took but one look behind him, and finding that he was followed by the little desperate fellow who had hit him so sore a punch in the ribs, he seemed to take wings and fly, he was so quickly out of sight.

"And, if it 'tis a fair question, I pray you tell me who is this pretty piece of frailty, for whom you have so ably frightened this hero out of the field?" asked Master Shakspeare of his young friend, as soon as their mirth had subsided a little.

"By this hand, 'twas almost as good a jest as that we had of the two lords!" exclaimed Master Burbage, who appeared to have taken it in huge delight.

"Oh! she be of a very delicate comeliness," replied Harry Daring, as he returned out of breath from his bootless chase. "And she be called Joanna, the mercer's daughter in East Cheap."

"Joanna!” cried both the players in the same breath, as if marvelling exceedingly.

"That be her name beyond all doubt," added the barber-chirurgeon's apprentice; and Master Francis, looking exceedingly disturbed, said nothing.

"Will!" said Master Burbage, as he came up close to his friend, with a mighty serious coun

tenance.

"What, Dick?" answered the other.

Master Burbage stooped his head a little and whispered into the other's ear, with all the emphasis he could put into the words, "The grapes be

sour!"

CHAPTER IV.

Great miracle of constancy! my miseries
Were never bankrupt of their confidence
In worst afflictions, till this-now I feel them.
Report, and thy deserts, thou best of creatures,
Might to eternity have stood a pattern

For every virtuous wife, without this conquest.
Thou hast outdone belief: yet may their ruin
In after marriages be never pitied,

To whom thy story shall appear a fable.

FORD.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH sat at a table, on which were many books and papers, in a small chamber in the Tower; which, certes, was properly furnished enough, though everything therein was of an exceeding antique fashion: and the beautiful Dame Elizabeth, now looking with a very matronly dignity, sat as near as might be opposite to him, working of a baby's cap, whilst close by her side was a cradle, in which slept a marvellous pretty infant. Now she would take her eyes from her work and fix them on the slumbering child with such sweet and smiling looks, as shewed her heart was delighted with what she gazed on; and anon she would turn them to where sat her husband, leaning of his head on his hand over a large

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book he seemed to be a studying of so intently that he could regard nought else; and there was then so tender a solicitude in her eyes as was quite moving to see. She seemed as though she would have spoke, and yet refrained from it for fear of disturbing him in his studies. Again she continued at her work, but not without stealing of an occasional glance at the babe, or at Sir Walter. Yet was there ever a singular difference in the expression of her look to each. She still regarded her child with a fond and truly delicate smile, whilst upon her husband her gaze fell with an increasing melancholy, which at last became exceeding pathetic. It so happened that Sir Walter Raleigh, turning over a leaf, raised his head, and noticed the moving sadness of her looks.

"What makes thee look so woeful, Bess?" enquired he affectionately.

" Woeful!-Surely I look not woeful, dear Walter?" she replied as if with an assumed cheerfulness. "I am content—I lack nothing. Thou art every thing I could wish. For what should I look woeful then? Indeed thou must have mistaken my countenance hugely, if thou hast gathered from it I be in any way out of heart."

"In truth, sweetest, thou hadst but now so piteous a look, that I was moved at it," said he.

"Then was it a false look, dear Walter; and therefore regard it not, I prythee!" exclaimed

his beautiful wife very earnestly. "Let it not move thee at all, for it must have been a villainous deceitful look if it hath given thee a moment's uneasiness."

"I have never yet seen aught in thee deceitful, dear Bess," observed Sir Walter. "Therefore am I now loath to believe that thou couldst have to do with such. Have I said or done any such thing as might have made thee sad?”

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Nay, on my life, thou hast been to me the kindest best creature fond woman ever loved!" replied Dame Elizabeth with great eagerness. "I am not sad at all, dear Walter. I'faith! methinks I should be more merry than sad, seeing what bountiful good fortune is mine. Thou art with me. The queen might have done me such ill office as to have kept us separate; yet hath she graciously allowed me the extreme happiness of being with thee. Then why should I be sad? Looked I less cheerful than ordinary, mayhap it was for fear such deep study as thou dost fall into may do thy health some hurt."

"Fear not, sweet heart," said he, with a most endearing smile. "There dwelleth such excellent good philosophy in these books, that the perusing of them maketh me forget I am here cribbed within stone walls a doing of nothing of any advantage to the world; but if it doth now afflict thee to see me so intent upon such labours, I will