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"Assoone as he was knowne to be awake, in comes the officers of the Dukes house, who were instructed by the Duke what they should do. There were pages bravely apparelled, Gentlemen of the chamber, Gentleman waiters, and the High Chamberlaine, who, all in faire order and without laughing, bring cloathing for this new guest: they honour him with the same great reverences as if hee were a Soveraigne Prince; they serve him bare headed, and aske him what suite hee will please to weare that day.

"This fellow, affrighted at the first, beleeving these things to be inchantment or dreames, reclaimed by these submissions, tooke heart, and grew bold, and setting a good face on the matter, chused amongst all the apparell that they presented unto him that which he liked best, and which hee thought to be fittest for him: he is accommodated like a King, and served with such ceremonies, as he had never seene before, and yet beheld them without saying any thing, and with an assured countenance. This done, the greatest Nobleman in the Dukes Court enters the chamber with the same reverence and honour to him as if he had been their Soveraigne Prince (Phillip with Princely delight beholds this play from a private place); divers of purpose petitioning him for pardons, which hee grants with such a countinance and gravity, as if he had had a Crowne on his head all his life time.

Being risen late, and dinner time approaching, they asked if he were pleased to have his tables covered. He likes that very well. The table is furnished, where he is set alone, and under a rich Canopie: he eates with the same ceremony which was observed at the Dukes meales; he made good cheere, and chawed with all his teeth, but only drank with more moderation then he could have wisht, but the Majesty which he represented made him refraine. All taken away, he was entertained with new and pleasant things: they led him to walke about the great Chambers, Galleries, and Gardens of the Pallace (for all this merriment was played within the

gates, they being shut only for recreation to the Duke and the principall of his Court): they shewed him all the richest and most pleasantest things therin, and talked to him thereof as if they had all beene his, which he heard with an attention and contentment beyond measure, not saying one word of his base condition, or declaring that they tooke him for another. They made him passe the afternoone in all kind of sports; musicke, dancing, and a Comedy, spent some part of the time. They talked to him of some State matters, whereunto he answered according to his skill, and like a right Twelfetide King.

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Super time approaching, they aske this new created Prince if he would please to have the Lords and Ladies of his Court to sup and feast with him; whereat he seemed something unwilling, as if hee would not abase his dignity unto such familiarity neverlesse, counterfeiting humanity and affability, he made signes that he condiscended thereunto: he then, towards night, was led with sound of Trumpets and Hoboyes into a faire hall, where long Tables were set, which were presently covered with divers sorts of dainty meates, the Torches shined in every corner, and made a day in the midst of a night: the Gentlemen and Gentlewomen were set in fine order, and the Prince at the upper end in a higher seat. The service was magnificent; the musicke of voyces and instruments fed the eare, whilest mouthes found their food in the dishes. Never was the imaginary Duke at such a feast: carousses begin after the manner of the Country; the Prince is assaulted on all sides, as the Owle is assaulted by all the Birdes, when he begins to soare. Not to seeme uncivill, he would doe the like to his good and faithfull subjects. They serve him with very strong wine, good Hipocras, which hee swallowed downe in great draughts, and frequently redoubled; so that, charged with so many extraordinaryes, he yeelded to deaths cousin german, sleep, which closed his eyes, stopt his eares, and made him loose the use of his reason and all his other sences.

"Then the right Duke, who had put himselfe among the throng

of his Officers to have the pleasure of this mummery, commanded that this sleeping man should be stript out of his brave cloathes, and cloathed againe in his old ragges, and so sleeping carried and layd in the same place where he was taken up the night before. This was presently done, and there did he snort all the night long, not taking any hurt either from the hardnesse of the stones or the night ayre, so well was his stomacke filled with good preservatives. Being awakened in the morning by some passenger, or it may bee by some that the good Duke Philip had thereto appointed, ha! said he, my friends, what have you done? you have rob'd mee of a Kingdome, and have taken mee out of the sweetest and happiest dreame that ever man could have fallen into. Then, very well remembring all the particulars of what had passed the day before, he related unto them, from point to point, all that had happened unto him, still thinking it assuredly to bee a dreame. Being returned home to his house, hee entertaines his wife, neighbours, and friends, with this his dreame, as hee thought the truth whereof being at last published by the mouthes of those Courtiers who had been present at this pleasant recreation, the good man could not beleeve it, thinking that for sport they had framed this history upon his dreame; but when Duke Philip, who would have the full contentment of this pleasant tricke, had shewed him the bed wherein he lay, the cloathes which he had worne, the persons who had served him, the Hall wherein he had eaten, the gardens and galleries wherein hee had walked, hardly could hee be induced to beleeve what hee saw, imagining that all this was meere inchantment and illusion.

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"The Duke used some liberality towards him for to helpe him in the poverty of his family; and, taking an occasion thereon to make an Oration unto his Courtiers concerning the vanity of this worlds honours, hee told them that all that ambitious persons secke with so much industry is but smoake, and a meere dreame, and that they are strucken with that

pleasant folly of the Athenian, who imagined all the riches that arrived by shipping in the haven of Athens to be his, and that all the Marchants were but his factors: his friends getting him cured by a skilfull Physitian of the debility of his brain, in lieu of giving them thanks for this good office, he reviled them, saying that, whereas he was rich in conceit, they had by this cure made him poore and miserable in effect.

"Harpaste, a foole that Senecaes wife kept, and whose pleasant imagination this grave Phylosopher doth largely relate, being growne blind, could not perswade herselfe that she was so, but continually complained that the house wherein she dwelt was dark, that they would not open the windowes, and that they hindred her from setting light, to make her beleeve she could see nothing: hereupon this great Stoick makes this fine consideration, that every vitious man is like unto this foole, who, although he be blind in his passion, yet thinks not himselfe to be so, casting all his defect on false surmises, whereby he seeks not only to have his sinne worthy of excuse and pardon, but even of praise: the same say the covetous, ambitious, and voluptuous persons, in defence of their imperfections; but in fine (as the Psalmist saith), all that must passe away, and the images thereof come to nothing, as the dreame of him that awaketh from sleepe.

"If a bucket of water be as truly water, as all the sea, the difference only remaining in the quantity, not in the quality, why shall we not say, that our poore Brabander was a Soveraigne Prince for the space of fowre and twenty houres, being that he received all the honours and commodities thereof: how many Kings and Popes have not lasted longer, but have dyed on the very day of their Elections or Coronations? As for those other pompes, which have lasted longer, what are they else but longer dreames? This vanity of worldly things is a great sting to a well composed soule, to helpe it forward towards the heavenly kingdome."

ART. II.-Shakespeare's Bust at Stratford-upon-Avon.

In Article XVII. of "The Shakespeare Society's Papers," it is proposed that the monumental bust of our great poet, in Stratford church, should be again placed in the condition in which Malone found it. A wish to this effect is, I apprehend, felt by every worthy pilgrim to the tomb of Shakespeare; but, much as such a restoration may be desired, the attempt would, certainly, be extremely hazardous, and is, probably, impracticable. The stone, of which the monument is made, is of a very soft and friable description; the paint, of which there must be many coatings, has become completely incorporated with it, and great peril of injuring the features would be incurred, if any measures were adopted to displace the mask, which overlays and mars their delicate proportions. Some of the thick strata of white lead, which, at Mr. Malone's desire, were daubed on by the coarse brush of a common housepainter, might be removed; but it would be unsafe to attempt anything more, and this alone would be useless.

The value of this bust, both as a likeness of the poet, and as a work of art, is not, perhaps, so well known as it ought to be: as a likeness, we have every reason to give it our most undoubting confidence. The constant tradition of Stratford affirms that it was taken from a cast after death: Sir Francis Chantrey told me, that he was quite convinced such was the This eminent sculptor praised the execution of the head, but thought that the artist, in chiselling the lower part of the face, had not made sufficient allowance for the rigidity of the dead muscles about the mouth, and attributed to this error on his part the extraordinary length of the upper lip. 1 The opinion of its having been taken from a cast of the poet's

case.

1 To another friend Sir Francis stated, that he thought the body and hands were the work of an inferior statuary.

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