had! But let me examine this same book of which he hath spoken so confidently." Having got it in his hand, the justice had a lantern held to him and scrutinised it very narrowly.

"Ha! O' my life I thought as much!" added he, looking from the book to the supposed murderer. "Thou hast stolen it. Here is in it the name of Sir Marmaduke de Largesse."

"He lent it me, as he hath done many others," replied William Shakspeare.

"He lend thee, fellow!" cried the knight disdainfully. "A person of his quality lend books to so horrible low a person as the son of John Shakspeare. How dost dare put so impudent an assertion on a justice o' the peace! Mass, 'tis manifest thou art a most thorough villain by thy name-'tis as clear thou hast stolen this book, and doubtless many others by thy professions-and there is no doubt thou hast done a foul murder by thy being in the neighbourhood at the time the wench was missing, and found here under such suspicious circumstances. Bring him along, Sampson! Thou art my close prisoner. I charge thee escape on thy peril."

Our young student, to his exceeding astonishment, found himself taken into custody; but to be accused of destroying that exquisite fair creature who had so long been the exclusive subject of his sweetest meditations, appeared to him so un

natural a thing, he could scarce believe it possible it could be thought of, for a single moment. Confused as he was by the effects of the blow, and still more bewildered by the behaviour of Sir Thomas Lucy, his apprehensions for the safety of the gentle Mabel, completely thrust aside every thing like fear for himself, and all the way to the house he did nothing but think of the possible dangers she might be exposed to in the hands of those desperate villains he had beheld carrying of her off.

When

he arrived at the mansion, he was led up stairs into a room where there was no possibility of escaping; and Dame Lucy presently came and washed his wound, applied to it some of her famous julep, and put on it a clean bandage, for although, as a wife, she would not for a moment doubt of the correctness of her husband's opinion, she could not allow such an opinion, bad as it was, to interfere with the wounded youth's receiving the advantage of her skill in remedies.

It was a small chamber, with a standing bed in it, whereon was a fair coverlet of the dame's needle work. A little table, with materials for washing, stood close at hand, which had evidently been in use; and beside them were sundry towel, spieces of cloth for bandage, bottles, scissors, and the like necessary sort of things for the dressing of a wound. The dame sat, with a famous serious aspect, in an arm chair, at the side of the table, fastening the

bandage on the head of her patient, who knelt down at her feet. Close by the suspected murderer, holding a candle, stood a comely little damsel, whose bright eyes had gradually lost that fearfulness with which she at first regarded the wicked wretch she had been told he was.

Watching these, at a little distance, stood two simple looking fellows-the one with a long sheepish face, surrounded with straggling lanky locks, which was Hodge; and the other, with a head as round as an apple, of which the countenance was well marked out of all contradiction, for it would have rivalled any old buckler in the number of dents it had; and he was David. Each was leaning on a formidable looking harquebus, and beside which they were armed with sword and dagger.

"Dost feel any more comfort now?" enquired the good dame, as her patient stood up before her, immediately the dressing of his wound was finished.

“Wonderful, I thank you very heartily," exclaimed the youth, leaning of himself against a chair-for he felt exceeding weak.

"I'm glad on't," added his physician, carefully pouring into a cup some of her famous julep; then giving the bottle to the black-eyed Kate, with an injunction to be mindful and put it down safely, she offered the cup and its contents to her patient. "Drink this, I prythee," said she, "and be assured 'twill do thee as much efficacy taken as an inward

medicine, as thou hast already found when used as a lotion for a wound." William Shakspeare again thanked her with a like sincerity, and cheerfully swallowed the draught to the last drop. His behaviour had already pleased her, and the alacrity with which he drank what she had given him, delighted her still more. She rose from her seat, ordering the handmaid to clear the table, and get a bowl of milk and a manchet for the youth's supper; and then telling the two men Sir Thomas desired they left not the room on any account, nor once took their eyes off of their prisoner, she seemed as if about to take her departure. Yet still she lingered.

what

"I marvel thou dost not confess thy wickedness," said she, at last, to her young patient, manifestly more in sorrow than in anger. 66 Prythee say thou hast done with the body; for methinks the least thou canst do is to let her have Christian burial."

"Whose body, dear lady?" enquired he.

"Why, poor Mabel, whom thou hast so foully murdered," answered the dame. "Alack! 'tis a grievous thing one so young-and so well behaved too-should do so horrible a thing." Kate stood still a moment, and regarded the suspected murderer with a wonderful searching glance.

"I beseech you, think of me not so vilely!" exclaimed the youthful Shakspeare, with great earnestness. "By all things most sacred, I do assure

you, I got this blow in endeavouring to stay the villains who carried her off." Kate returned to her work with a look of infinite satisfaction.

"Didst not hear what Sir Thomas said?" enquired the old lady, very gravely; "and dost really imagine that one of thy years can know better of a thing than a justice o' the peace, and a knight o' the shire, who owneth lands in five counties?" Thereupon the good dame shook her head with a wonderful solemnity, and walked, in her stateliest manner, out of the chamber.

66

Prythee, Kate, bring us a jug of small ale!" exclaimed the man with the indented face, as he threw himself into a chair, directly his mistress had closed the door. "I'm horrible thirsty after all this fruitless searching for poor Mabel."

Body o' me, so am I, David!" said he with the sheepish countenance, following the other's example. "I feel as though I had lived on pickled herrings for a whole month of fast days, I be so uncommon dry. Come, Kate, bring us a tankard."

"Wait till thy betters be served, Hodge,” replied the girl, quickly. David looked hard at Hodge, and Hodge looked hard at David; and then both looked very hard at their prisoner.

"I pray you, good sir, to seat yourself," said Kate to the latter, who still stood leaning against the back of a chair, looking faint and pale; and thereupon she moved the chair round for him, convenient for