A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon :
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scattered in the bottom of the sea.

Some lay in dead men's skulls and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
Brak. Had you such leisure, in the time of death,
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it fōrth
To find the empty, vast, and wandering air;
But smothered it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awaked not with this sore agony?

you

Clar. No, no! my dream was lengthened after life ;
Oh, then began the tempèst to my soul!

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

The first that there did greet my stranger soul
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,'
Who cried aloud-" What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?”
And so he vanished. Then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud-
"CLARENCE is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,-
That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury!

SEIZE on him, furies! take him to your torments !”
With that, methought a legion of foul fiends

1 Charon, (karon), who, according to ancient mythology, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead across the rivers of the lower world. For this service he was paid with an obolus, a small silver coin of about

three cents in value, which was placed in the mouth of every corpse previous to its burial. He is represented as an aged man, with a dirty beard and a mean dress.

Warwick, (wõr rik).

Environed me, and howlèd in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression 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 these things,
That now give evidence against my soul,

For Edward's sake; and, see how he requites me!
O God! if my deep prayers can not appease thee,
But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,

Yet execute thy wrath on me ălōne :

Oh, spare my guiltlèss wife, and my poor children!—
I prithee, Brakenbury, stay by me;

My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good rest!

[CLARENCE reposing himself on a chair.

Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours,

Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,

An outward honor for an inward toil :

And, for unfelt imaginations,

They often feel a world of restless cares :

So that between their titles and low name,

There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

SHAKSPEARE.

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, one of the greatest of all poets, was born at Stratfordon-Avon, Warwick County, England, in April, 1564. His father, John Shakspeare, a woolcomber or glover, rose to be high bailiff and chief alderman of Stratford. William is supposed to have received his early education at the grammar-school in his native town. We have no trace how he was employed between his school-days and manhood. Some hold that he was an attorney's clerk. Doubtless he was a hard, though perhaps an irregular student. He married Anne Hathaway in 1582, and soon after became connected with the Blackfriar's Theater, in London, to which city he removed in 1586 or 1587. Two years subsequent he was a joint proprietor of that theater, with four others below him in the list. Though we know nothing of the date of his first play, he had most probably begun to write long before he left Stratford. Of his thirty-seven plays, the existence of thirty-one is defined by contemporary records. He became rich in the theaters, with which he ceased to be connected about 1609. He had previously purchased the principal house in his native town, where he passed the residue of his life, and died in April, 1616. We can only refer students that wish to know more of this great poet, to his writings, an extended description of which is rendered unnecessary by the selection immediately preceding the above,

V.

123. NORVAL.

Enter first GLENALVON; and soon after, NORVAL. The latter seems looking off at some distant object.

G

LENALVON. His pōrt I love; he's in a proper mood
To chide the thunder, if at him it roared. [Aside.
[Aloud.] Has Norval seen the troops?

Norval.
The setting sun
With yellow radiance lightened all the vale,
And as the warriors moved, each polished helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.
The hill they climbed, and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering they seemed
A host angelic, clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host
In sounds more lofty talks of glorious war.

Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty

Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since no part is mine

Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your martial deeds Have ranked you with the great. But mark me, Norval, Lord Randolph's favor now exalts your youth

Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you.
Give them all honor: seem not to command,
Else they will hardly brook your late-sprung power,
Which nor alliance props nor birth adorns.

Norv. Sir, I have been accustomed, all my days,
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth;
And though I have been told that there are men
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn,
Yet in such language I am little skilled;
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen.

I did not mean

To gall your pride, which now I see is great.

Norv. My pride!

Glen.
Suppress it, as you wish to prosper;
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn?
Norv. A shepherd's scorn! [Crosses left.

Glen. [Right.]

Why yes, if you presume

To bend on soldiers those disdainful eyes
As if you took the measure of their minds,
And said in secret, You're no match for me,
What will become of you?

Nerv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten me?

Norv.

Didst thou not hear?

Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe

Had not been questioned thus; but such as thou-
Norv. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen.

Norv.

Norval.

So I am ;

And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy;

At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.

Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth?
Glen. Thy truth! thou'rt all a lie; and basely false
Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Norv. If I were chained, unarmed, or bedrid old,
Perhaps I should revile; but, as I am,

I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval

Is of a race who strive not but with deeds. [Crosses R.

Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valor,

And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,

I'd tell thee—what thou art. I know thee well.

Glen. [L.] Dost thou not know Glenalvon born to command Ten thousand slaves like thee?

Norv.

Villain, no more!
Draw, and defend thy life. I did design
To have defied thee in another cause;

But heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.
Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs!

[Both draw their swords

Enter LORD RANDOLPH, R.

Lord Randolph. Hold! I command you both! the man that stirs Makes me his foe.

Norv. Another voice than thine

That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph.

Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wondrous condescending! Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!

Norv. Now you may scoff in safety. [Both sheathe their swords. Lord R. [R.] Speak not thus, Taunting each other, but unfold to me

The cause of quarrel; then I judge betwixt you.

Norv. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
I blush to speak; and will not, can not speak
The opprobrious words that I from him have bōrne.
To the liege lord of my dear native land
I owe a subject's homage; but even him
And his high arbitration I'd reject!
Within my bosom reigns another lord-
Honor! sole judge and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favors, and let Norval go

Hence as he came; alōne-but not dishonored!

Lord R. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice:

The ancient foe of Caledonia's land

Now waves his banner o'er her frighted fields;
Suspend your purpose till your country's arms
Repel the bold invader; then decide

Let not our variance mar the social hour,

Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph.
Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate,

Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow;
Nor let our strife disturb the gentle dame.