tradesmen, had congregated at the Three Tuns, as was their wont before dinner. There was the sleek and cunning attorney placed next, perhaps, to the victim of his wiles; or the sly and avaricious money-lender seated opposite to the needy spendthrift, whose imprudence had thrown him at his mercy; while the clean and dapper shopkeeper, and the customer whom he had supplied not an hour before, met over their forenoon draught in social gossip. But no allusion was made by any to former circumstances or transactions. A tavern, like the grave, reduces all for the time to the same level; and the conversation, which was sufficiently general for a mixed company, was only interrupted by the entrance of an individual whom most of those present appeared to know, and to whom all seemed ready to pay some deference. He returned the salutations of the company with a quick, though somewhat stiff bow, which evinced either hauteur, or a mind ill at ease. With the exception of this slight obeisance, he did not appear to notice any one, but took his seat apart from all the others. The cloak, trimmed with silver lace, which hung carelessly from his shoulders, showed that he was in the service of some nobleman or gentleman of quality, while the neat and rather gay apparel which it covered, but did not conceal, with his manifestly superior air and breeding, indicated that he was no common waitingman, but one, perhaps, high in the confidence of his master. His rapier hung in the most approved style from his side, while his dagger was in its proper place at his back, although hidden by the cloak from view.

There was something about this man which strongly attracted the attention of all present. He looked pale and haggard, and it seemed as if some heavy anxiety or disappointment lay oppressively at his heart. But with all this, his countenance bore that sort of sinister expression which at once gave rise to the suspicion that there was something on his mind which he strove to conceal, even from himself.

"Ho! Master Heywood," said one of the company, a good-natured, burly-looking man; "what manner of thought is it that disquiets thee to-day? What has come over that heretofore shining aspect of thine, that

it should look so doleful? A morning draught of sack will restore your cheer. Here, tapster! a cup of sack to good Master Ralph Heywood, and my service to him with it."

The new comer turned his eye full upon the questioner. "Friend," said he, "I am in no mood to answer thine idle interrogatories. My thoughts, whatever they be, are not meet subjects for a tavern jest."

This rebuff silenced for the moment the individual who had so familiarly accosted him, while Heywood, beckoning to the drawer, without recognising the well-meant compliment that had been paid to him, of the offer of a morning draught, which, in those days, was a usual mark of respect amongst acquaintances, ordered him to bring "a cup of sack, with lime in it, strong and hot, and immediate ;" with an especial caution to see "that it be of the right sherris sort."

"That's the proper fashion!" ventured to remark the former speaker, who appeared to be the Sir Oracle of the ordinary. "I ever abhorred your weak decoction of Galicia or Portingale; neither do I affect much your Malaga or Canary.'

Heywood, to whom this brief speech was mainly addressed, gave a grim smile, but said nothing. On his sack being brought to him, he finished it at a draught; a process which he repeated with a second and a third cup. He then unslung a long silken purse from his girdle, and after carefully counting out the amount claimed by the tapster, he, with a cold bow to the company, slowly withdrew from the apartment.

"There goes one," said Sir Oracle, as if glad of the opportunity to speak detractingly of Heywood, in return for the check he had received from him-"There goes one whom I should not like to trust with a keen-edged weapon when his passions are roused. I have noted him as one exceeding free when all goes well, but in the extreme reserved when aught has thwarted him. He serves an excellent lord, and withal stands high in favour. But he is a perilous companion, and pray Heaven his humours obstruct not his advancement!"

Meantime Heywood, after quitting the tavern, passed on through a hedge-skirted road that led towards the

P

gardens of Ely House, where the Lord Hatton had recently built himself a noble residence, and where also were the mansions of Lord Brooke and others of the nobility. The place is now densely covered with houses, and no traces of those ancient gardens, renowned for their fine strawberries and salubrious air, are to be found in our day. Leather-lane, Liquorpond-street, and other low and populous thoroughfares, have taken the place of beautiful lawns and well laid-out mansion grounds; and the trader and the artisan ply their industrious traffic where nobles have taken their pastime, an dmen of genius won their fame. But here, in this very lo cality, in many parts of which distress and destitution hide their complaints from the eye and the sympathy of man, have the sorrows and the sufferings of a lofty and highly-gifted mind led to its own overthrow, and sunk its possessor to an early and suicidal grave. The story of Chatterton,

The wondrous boy,

The shapeless soul, who perished in his pride,"

is familiar to every one, and the associations connected with the scene of his premature and melancholy death will not soon be forgotten.

Leaving Heywood to proceed with quickened pace, we may now conduct the reader to a small chamber in one of the mansions above referred to, where dwelt one whose name will long be remembered as the friend of Shakspeare and Ben Jonson, and the patron of Camden, Speed, and Sir William Davenant.

The style of building in Queen Elizabeth's reign, while externally it was stately and magnificent, too often in the interior, from its vastness and vacuity, gave just cause for the reproach cast upon it by the poet Gray, in his "Long Story:"

"In Britain's isle, no matter where,

An ancient pile of buildings stands;
The Huntingdons and Hattons there,
Employed the power of fairy hands
To raise the ceiling's fretted height,
Each panel in achievements clothing;
Rich windows that exclude the light,

And passages that lead to nothing!"

The room we speak of, however, although situated in one of the largest mansions in the vicinity of Holborn, was neither dark nor deficient in accommodation. It was richly hung with tissue-cloth, as was usual in that romantic age, on which was represented a description of the victory of Zutphen, fought forty-two years before, with Sir Philip Sidney receiving his death-wound. Over the fire-place hung a portrait of that illustrious personage, by Sir Antonio More, while the carved chimneypiece presented some illustrative figures, which were obviously intended to have reference to his fate. The apartment, otherwise, was plainly, though comfortably furnished. In the middle of the floor stood a round table, covered with papers, while books, and rolls of parchment, lay scattered around, giving one the idea of a lawyer's chamber, rather than that of a private gentleman. Amongst the books, a well-used copy of "The Arcadia" might be prominently seen.

Seated near the window, which opened on the lawn, appeared a venerable-looking old man, in a morning undress, whose aspect betokened peace of mind, and that equanimity of temper which owes its birth to goodness of heart, and gentleness of disposition. Ever and anon he took up a scroll, which lay beside him on a small hand-table, and read to himself aloud, occasionally correcting, with his pen, a word or a sentence, which he thought he could improve. Then would he repeat the passage approvingly, as if pleased with his task. He was revising a manuscript of his poetry; and from his excellent and instructive "Treatie of Humane Learning," we may extract the following as a specimen :—

Musike instructs me which be lyrike moodes;
Let her instruct me rather, how to show
No weeping voyce for losse of fortune's goods.
Geometrie giues measure to the earth below;

Rather let her instruct me how to measure
What is enough for need, what fit for pleasure.

Shee teacheth, how to lose nought in my bounds,
And I would learne with ioy to lose them all :
This artist showes which way to measure rounds;
But I would know how first man's minde did fall,-
How great it was, how little now it is,
And what that knowledge was which wrought vs this

What thing a right line is, the learned know;
But how auailes that him, who in the right
Of life, and manners doth desire to grow?
What then are all these humane arts, and lights,
But seas of errors?

In whose depths who sound,
Of truth finde onely shadowes, and no ground.

Then if our arts want power to make vs better,
What foole will thinke they can vs wiser make,
Life is the wisdome, art is but the letter,
Or shell, which oft men for the kernell take;

In moodes, and figures moulding vp deceit,
To make each science rather hard, than great.

And as in grounds, which salt by nature yeeld,
No care can make returne of other graine:
So who with bookes their nature ouer-build,
Lose that in practice, which in arts they gaine;

That of our schooles it may be truely said,
Which former times to Athens did vpbraid:

"That many came first wisemen to those schooles;
Then grew philosophers, or wisdome-mongers;
Next rhetoricians, and at last grew fooles."
Nay it great honour were to this booke-hunger,

If our schools dreams could make their scholars see
What imperfections in our natures be.

But these vaine idols of humanity,

As they infect our wits, so doe they staine,
Or binde our inclinations borne more free,
While the nice alchymie of this proud veine

Makes some grow blinde by gazing on the skie,
Others, like whelpes, in wrangling elenchs die.

And in the best, where science multiplies,
Man multiplies with it his care of minde:
While in the worst, these swelling harmonies,
Like bellowes, fill vnquiet hearts with winde,

To blow the flame of malice, question, strife,
Both into publike states and priuate life.

Such was the famed Fulke Grevile, Lord Brooke, in his study, at the age of seventy-four; he who, though now declining in years, had, in the tilts and tournaments, and courtly entertainments of Queen Elizabeth's days, behaved so bravely as "to win the reputation of a most gallant knight;" and whose modesty of soul was so great, that he thought the proudest title he could assume was, "Servant of Queen Elizabeth, Councillor of King James, and friend of Sir Philip Sidney," which he ordered to be placed as an inscription on his tomb