in respect to his worthy father. [Comes down, R. C.] Hem! [To William.] Young man! or, rather, young gentleman, an' like ye, I have a word for your private ear, from his worship, Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlcotte. Wil. S. Be brief, my friend; for I dislike preamble. Sly. As I e'en now premised-you are hereby summoned to appear [Produces a warrant.] instanter, before his worship, Sir Thomas Lucy, in whose park you last night shot a buck, and

Wil. S. I understand; and am prepared to follow.

John S. Oh, Willy, Willy! and was Charlcotte Park the paradise, and Sir Thomas Lucy's deer the angels and goddesses, thou spak'st of even now? Alack-a-day! thou art a sad wild Willy!

Mary S. Judge not rashly, goodman John, until thou hear his worship's accusation.

Sly. With your leave, good Master Willy Shakspeare

Wil. S. Since sovereign law commands, I will attend, And render an account.-Lead on, my friend!

Gil. S. Ah! this comes of keeping company with one's betters-gods, and kings, and queens: oh, dear! [Exeunt, L.

SCENE III.-A Chamber in the Mansion of Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlcotte-Antique table, R. c., and chairs brought on with several old folio law-books, pens, ink, &c.

Enter SIR THOMAS LUCY (a second Sir John Falstaff, for corpulence), followed by DRAWL, his clerk, R.

Sir T. Hem, hem! the arrant knave! to kill one of my fattest bucks, and in mine own park, too! wherefore did not my foresters take him in the very act, and cage the rogue all night? Wherefore did they not? Expound, good Drawl-expound!

Drawl. [In a tone corresponding with his name.] They did not, an't please your worship, because they could not-seeing, the depredator, young Master Willy Shakspeare, of Stratford, to the cunning of the fox, addeth the fleetness of the hare-in brief, he escaped his pursuers, an't please your worship.

Sir T. [Mocking him.] Marry, but it pleaseth us not, Master Drawl, no more than thy long-tongued manner of speech. [In his natural voice.] An' thou mend not

thine utterance, we shall be constrained to provide us with another and more comprehensible clerk; seeing that the fairest words of the queen's English are most grievously marred and mangled by thy vile delivery thereof.

Sly. [Without, L.] This way. His Worship, Sir Thomas, is above. This way.

Sir T. [Ah!--That's a most welcome voice. So, Slyboots is returned, and with him that young poacher, I will hope; or, by the rotundity of our person! he shall eat no more poached eggs and bacon at Charlcotte Hall. An' he bring me not this vile slayer of bucks, I'll cage him, or I'm but the fraction of a man. Now, Drawl, open me the books of law; for we are never compos mentis, until we have chapter and verse before us.

[Drawl opens the law-books, and takes his seat upon a stool, R. of the table; while Sir Thomas Lucy seats himself, in his large official chair, L. of the table— Drawl, perched, as it were, on his stool, and wearing large old-fashioned spectacles, mounted in copper, contrasts admirably with Sir Thomas, who, with all the selfconsequence of magisterial dignity, added to personal animosity, prepares to examine the delinquent.

Enter SLYBOOTS and Followers, with WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, JOHN, MARY, and GILBERT SHAKSPEARE, L.

Sly. Here is the young gentleman, an't please your worship.

Sir T. Young gentleman, forsooth!-young nightbird! scapegrace! poacher! thou wouldst say :--but he shall rue his wantonness, or I'm a baby's shadow. [To John Shakspeare.] Hark ye! Master John Shakspeare, on your parole of honour your boy, Willy, slept not at home last night?

John S. It grieveth my heart; but the truth must oe confessed-he slept not under my roof last night, your worship.

Mary S. Yet did he pass the night with gods, and kings, and queens.

Gil. S. Yes, your worship, where he heard the music of the shears.

Sir T. [Surprised.] Kings! queens! and the music of the shears! Verily, good Master Drawl, it seemeth unto us as though we had to deal with madmen.

Drawl. So seemeth it, indeed, most worshipful Sir Thomas.

Sir T. Yet will we soon restore them to reason. [To William Shakspeare.] Hem! how durst thou shoot a buck in our park, last night?

Wil. S. 'Twas in the forest-not your park, Sir Thomas.

Sir T. Explain! but dost thou hear?-nought but the truth; or, by the rotundity of our person, we'll have thee thumb-screwed-speak, coxcomb, speak!

Wil. S. I will obey, most worshipful Colossus.

Sir T. Colossus! why, thou ill-spoken, foul-mouthed, saucy varlet! know'st thou to whom thou speakest? Our name is not Colossus, but Sir Thomas Lucy.

Wil. S. Nor is mine coxcomb, sir; but William Shak

speare.

I met the buck i' the forest, running wild,
And shot him, not for pastime, but for food.
I know 'tis theft to take a horse, or sheep,
Or any other beast, domesticated;

But a wild animal, such as a deer, or hare,
Can have no owner; tell me then, I pray you,
Most sapient justice, out of your vast wisdom,
Where is the sin in killing such a creature,
More than in plucking from a bush or tree
A nut or sloe, unclaimed of any man?

Sir T. [Aside.] A shrewd young knave:-good Drawl, we are at fault; expound, expound '

Drawl. [To William Shakspeare-taking one of the folios.] Young man, thus saith the law,-" Certain brute beasts, albeit they do run wild, are noble in their nature, and may not be hunted or destroyed by any commoner."

Mary S. But my boy Willy is no commoner; but a gentleman, every inch of him—that is, on his mother's side.

John S. Peace, dame; or thou wilt mar all, with thy tongue.

Sir T. Hem, hem! attention all! [To William Shakspeare.] If we do condescend to enter into exposition with a daring poacher, it proceeds from the natural sweetness of our lamb-like disposition; there not being one drop of gall in the whole of our somewhat substantial composition: thy youth and inexperience will we therefore instruct, out of our superabundant stock of wisdom. [Turns to Drawl and makes signs to him to open his book,

and be ready to prompt if occasion require it.] Know, then, thou young scapegrace, the laws which empower us to chastise thee, were enacted by─[Turns to Drawl for information, who communicates it in a whisper.] hem! were enacted by that puissant monarch, Guilielmus Primus, who having subdued England, was surnamed the Conqueror.

Wil. S. If he did make such laws, he conquered more Than England.

Sir T. Prithee, youngster, what besides?

Wil. S. Reason and common sense! for, where just
Heaven

Hath set no mark or sign, whereby to ken
Why this beast should be noble and that not,
Shall puny man dare make a difference,

And punish him who takes what bounteous Providence
Gave, free as air, to rich and poor alike?

Sir T. A pert young coxcomb! we are at fault again : expound the law, good Drawl, expound!

Drawl. [Aside.] Now, by the mass! I am clean puzzled, too. [To William Skakspeare.] Young man, such is the law; let that suffice.

Sir T. Ay, such is the law; [To William Shakspeare.] and thou hast no excuse; for, seeing thou lackest nought, thou canst not plead poverty, in extenuation of thy wantonness.

Wil. S. It was not for myself I shot the buck, For I receive at home, from my dear parents, Both food and raiment, better than I merit.

Sir T. Not for thyself, say'st thou? For whom else, pray?

Wil. S. I'll tell your worship:-in a little cottage
By the wood-side, there dwells an humble shepherd:
A man, whose life, though spent in industry,
Hath ever been one tissue of misfortunes;
Disease destroyed his flocks, and poverty

Hath, from a man of substance, brought him down
To abject wretchedness. 'Twas yester even,
As in my wanderings I passed his cottage,

I heard a moan-a second struck mine ear;
And, entering the poor man's humble dwelling,
I there beheld a scene of wretchedness,

Too great for tongue to tell!

Sir T. I marvel at thy speech! proceed, young man. Wil. S. His wretched wife, his helpless babes, himself,

On the bare earth lay stretched!-their pallid cheeks,
Their sunken eyes, proclaimed the ruthless war,
Which nature then was waging 'gainst disease,
Hunger, and cold! her mortal enemies!
"Have you no food?" quoth I—

"None, for the last two days," was their reply ;-
Like one pursued by fiends, forth from the cottage
I madly rushed, resolved to bring them food!
My home I could not reach-it was too far;
I therefore shot the buck I chanc'd to meet,
And on my shoulders bore it off in triumph,
To the poor shepherd's dwelling;-there arriv'd,
I lit a fire-prepared some savoury broth
For the poor sufferers-tended them myself-
And when I saw their eyes beam joy again,
And heard them speak sweet words of gratitude,
And view'd the smiling infants all around me,
I thought them angels from the realms of light!-
Their cottage, paradise! myself in heaven!

[Turning to his father.

Thus, my dear father, did I pass the night. Mary S. My boy Willy deserves to be a Parliament member, for such a speech.

John S. [Crossing to William Shakspeare.] Much more for such humanity! thy hand, my brave boy,-I did thee wrong in thinking ill of thee.

Gil. S. [Half crying, going to William Shakspeare.] Let me embrace thee, brother Willy. Prithee, describe unto me where about dwelleth the poor shepherd and his wretched family, and I will send them, straight out of mine own means, a present of fleecy hosiery.

[He treads accidentally on Sir Thomas Lucy's toe, at which his worship is highly incensed, and strikes at him with his cane.

Sir T. [To Gilbert, who crosses behind to L.] Thou careless knave! Hem! [To William Shakspeare.] Young man, attend-thou hast done both well and ill.

Wil. S. And can a man do ill in doing well?

Sir T. Ay, marry, can he, as we'll prove-thou didst well to feed the hungry, but thou didst ill to feed them with venison, which is no food for peasants, but for lords. Wil. S. And is that justice, sir?

Sir T. Such is the law.

Wil. S. Should law from justice e'er be separated?