Master Francis in relation to Joanna-in which he was in some way right, for he had composed it soon after his quarrel with her.

""Tis indeed, very admirably conceived," said Sir Walter Raleigh; and from others round about him, Master Francis received such praise, that although it pleased him mightily to be so commended of so many good judges, it somewhat disconcerted him.

"Now, my masters, for a parting cup, and then for our homes," cried Sir Walter, rising, and presently all filled up their cups with what liquor they had, and drinking it off jovially, each took his hat and made himself ready to go. But it so happened that Master Cotton was seen fast asleep in his chair, and Ben Jonson spying this, and having enough sack in him to be in the humour for any sport, cautiously approached him,—the rest looking on, curious to see what would come of it; and fully expecting some famous jest or another.

"Fire! fire! fire!" bawled Ben Jonson in the ear of the sleeper.

“Ha! what? eh!" cried Master Cotton, jumping up suddenly and rubbing his eyes.

"Your house be burning to the ground!" cried Master Jonson.

"Save my manuscripts!

Save my books !"

shouted the antiquary, as he rushed hither and thither in as complete a fright as ever was seen

but he was quickly called to his senses by the shouts of laughter that broke from every one in the room; and then finding matters were not so bad as he had feared, he took the jest as merrily

as any.

"And now, good Dame," said Sir Walter, as he, with the others, entered a little room furnished with a goodly shew of all sorts of drinking vessels and bottles, and things appertaining to a tavern, among which the portly hostess and her daughter were sitting; "If you will reckon the pay, we will pay the reckoning."

"That will I, noble Sir Walter, and quickly," exclaimed Mistress Cannikin, laughing loudly at the conceit, as she proceeded to the back of a door on which sundry curious marks were chalked ; then making her calculations, she cried out in the midst, "Humphrey ! put out the lights in the Dolphin. Kate, take the money of such as I name. Barnaby, ask the gentlemen in the Half Moon, if they lack anything. Indeed Sir Walter, 'twas an exceeding droll conceit. Ten and sixpence if it please you, noble sir.”

"See that we get into no scrape—we are reckoning without our host," observed Ben Jonson in a manner that afforded much mirth to his companions.

"The hostess shall bear you blameless," added the portly dame, laughing heartily. "I thank you

noble Sir Walter. Good, upon my life! Worthy Master Jonson, your reckoning cometh to just six shillings and a groat. Kate! take of Master Cotton five shillings and three-pence. An admirable conceit, by my troth."

"The reckoning must needs be in very good hands," observed Master Shakspeare gallantly. Every one knoweth our hostess be so exceeding fair."

"Sure

"Ha! ha!" cried Mistress Cannikin, displaying her double chin to famous advantage. never was so witty a thing said. Nine and elevenpence, sweet Master Shakspeare. At my time of life too! Kate, seven and a penny to Master Donne. And yet it was so prettily spoken."

"And now, sweet hostess, for a salute at parting," exclaimed Master Shakspeare, as he threw his arms round her portly person, and snatched a

caress.

"Heaven prosper you!" cried the old dame, taking it very good humouredly. "Eight and a penny halfpenny, good Master Fletcher. An excellent hearted gentleman, and a courteous. Kate, five and sixpence to Master Beaumont."

"Indeed, la! Master Jonson, it be monstrous to be kissing of me!" drawled out the hostess's daughter, as she was faintly struggling in the arms of him she had named.

66

Tilly valley, wench!" exclaimed her mother,

laughing to see what was going on. "A kiss from a gentleman be no great matter-especially if he payeth his reckoning handsomely. Seven shillings and twopence if it please you, worthy Master Constable, and two shillings and a penny left owing at the last time."

"Now, sweet Kate," whispered Ben Jonson. "Ben! Ben!" called out Master Shakspeare, shaking his head very reprovingly. "Thou art still hankering after the sweet cates, I see."

"Cater for thyself, then," replied the other in the same humour. This sort of scene proceeded till the reckoning was paid, and then all started into the street as merry as crickets.

CHAPTER VIII.

O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention !

A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry like himself
Assume the port of Mars; and, at his heels,

Leashed in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire
Crouch for employment.

SHAKSPEARE.

Convey thee from the thought of thy disgrace
Steal from thyself, and be thy care's own thief.
But yet what comfort shall I hereby gain?
Bearing the wound I needs must feel the pain!

What bloody villain

Provoked thee to this murder?

DANIEL.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER,

MASTER FRANCIS was again upon the wide seas in as goodly a ship as ever ploughed the waves, with his true friend Harry Daring, and his kind patron Sir Walter Raleigh. I have already made mention of the likelihood of an expedition against the Spaniards, and this had come to pass. At the time when England was threatened with an invasion by the boastful Armada, which, by God's good help, was turned into a laughing stock, Sir