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Der. And you would have me call at Thumper's, and get her shod?

Scrape. No, no! I had forgotten to tell you that I let neighbor Dobson shoe her last week, by way of trial; and, to do him justice, I must own he shoes extremely well.

Der. But, if the poor creature has lost so much skin from off her back

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Scrape. Poh, poh! That is just one of our Tim's large stories. I do assure you it was not at first bigger than my thumb-nail; and I am certain it has not grown any since.

Der. At least, however, let her have something she will eat, since she refuses hay.

Scrape. She did, indeed, refuse hay this morning; but the only reason was, that she was crammed full of oats. You have nothing to fear, neighbor; the mare is in perfect trim; and she will skim you over the ground like a bird. I wish you a good journey and a profitable job. Come, come along to the barn. This way, neighbor, this way! (He pulls DERBY off, L., and TIM follows.)

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BERQUIN.

Glendower. Hail, good cousin Percy! hail, good cousin Hotspur !

For, by that name, as oft as Lancaster

Doth speak of you, his cheeks look pale, and, with

A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven.

Hotspur. And you

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in the other place, as often as he hears

Owen Glendower spoken of.

Glen. I can not blame him. At my nativity
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets; and at my birth

The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shaked like a coward.

Hot. Why, so it would have done

At the same season if your mother's cat

Had but kittened, though yourself had never been born.
Glen. I say, the earth did shake when I was born,
Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my mind,

If you suppose as fearing you it shook.

Glen. The heavens were all on fire; the earth did tremble. Hot. O then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,

HOTSPUR AND GLENDOWER.

247

And not in fear of your nativity.

Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colic pinched and vexed
By the imprisonment of unruly wind

Within her held, which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldamed earth, and topples down
Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth,
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.

Glen. Cousin, of many men I do not bear these crossings.

Give me leave
To tell you once again, that at my birth
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ;
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous in the frighted fields.
These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show

I am not in the roll of common men.

Where is he living, clipped in with the sea

That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland,—
Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me?

And bring him out that is but woman's son
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,

Or hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot. I think there is no man speaks better Welsh.
Glen. I can speak English, lord, as well as you;

For I was trained up in the English court,

Where, being but young, I framed to the harp

Many an English ditty, lovely well,

And gave the tongue a helpful ornament,

A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it, with all my heart.

I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!

Than one of those same meter ballad-mongers;

I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turned,

Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry.

Tis like the forced gate of a shuffling nag!

Glen. (Crosses to L.) I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Hot. (Crosses to R.) Why, so can I, or so can any man:

But will they come, when you do call for them?

Glen. Why, I can teach you to command the devil.

1

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to suame the devil
By telling truth: Tell truth and shame the devil.
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence.
O! while you live, Tell truth, and shame the devil.
Glen. Čome, come! (Crosses to R.)
No more of this unprofitable chat.

(Exit, R.) Hot. No more, and welcome, Owen Glendower! (Laughing.) He can "call spirits from the vasty deep!" I'd like to see him do it. I tell you what,

He held me last night at the least nine hours

In reckoning up the several devils' names

That were his lackeys: I cried "humph," and "well, go to," But marked him not a word. O! he's as tedious

As is a tired horse, a railing wife;

Worse than a smoky house; I had rather live
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom!

(Exit, L.)

SHAKSPEARE (altered).

XXII. DAVID AND GOLIAH.

Enter GOLIAH, L.

Goliah. Where is the mighty man of war, who dares
Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief?
What victor-king, what general drenched in blood,
Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?
What proud credentials does the boaster bring
To prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes,
What ruined provinces, what slaughtered realms,
What heads of heroes, or what hearts of kings,
In battle killed, or at his altars slain,

Has he to boast? Is his bright armory

Thick-set with spears, and swords, and coats of mail,
Of vanquished nations, by his single arm

Subdued? Where is the mortal man so bold,

So much a wretch, so out of love with life,

To dare the weight of this uplifted spear? Come, advance! Philistia's gods to Israel's! Sound, my herald,

Sound for the battle straight!

Enter DAVID, R.

David. Behold thy foe!

Gol. I see him not,

DAVID AND GOLIAH.

249

Dav. Behold him here!

Gol. Say, where?

Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.

Dav. I stand prepared; thy single arm to mine.
Gol. Why, this is mockery, minion! it may chance
To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee;
But tell me who, of all this numerous host,
Expects his death from me? Which is the man
Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?

Dav. The election of my sovereign falls on me.
Gol. On thee! on thee! by Dagon, 't is too much!
Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!
*Twould move my mirth at any other time;
But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!
And tempt me not too far. (Crosses to R.)

Dav. (Crosses to L.) I do defy thee,
Thou foul idolater! Hast thou not scorned

The armies of the living God I serve?

By me He will avenge upon thy head

Thy nation's sins and thine! Armed with His name,
Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe

That ever bathed his hostile spear in blood.

Gol. Indeed! 't is wondrous well! Now, by my gods!

The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!

Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,

And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!
Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung
Of idle field-flowers? Where thy wanton harp,
Thou dainty-fingered hero?-But I will meet thee,
Thou insect warrior! since thou darest me thus!
Already I behold thy mangled limbs,

Dissevered each from each, ere long to feed
The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well!
Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks,

And toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds.

Dav. Ha! say'st thou so? Come on, then! Mark us well. Thou comest to me with sword, and spear, and shield!

In the dread name of Israel's God I come;

The living Lord of hosts, whom thou defiest!

Yet, though no shield I bring,

no arms, except
These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook,
With such a simple sling as shepherds use,
Yet all exposed, defenseless as I am,
The God I serve shall give thee up a prey

To my victorious arm. This day I mean
To make the uncircumcised tribes confess
There is a God in Israel. I will give thee,
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone;
The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts
Shall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,
Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!

I dare thee to the trial!

Gol. Follow me.

In this good spear I trust.

Dav. I trust in heaven!

The God of battles stimulates my arm,

(Exit, L.)

(Exit, L.)

HANNAH MORE.

And fires my soul with ardor not its own.

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Scene, DR. GREGORY'S study. A table, C., and chair, R. and L. Enter PATIENT, L., a plump Glasgow merchant. DR. GREGORY discovered reading, R. Patient. Good-morning, Dr. Gregory! I'm just come into Edinburgh about some law business, and I thought when I was here, at any rate, I might just as weel take your advice, sir, about my trouble.

Doctor. Pray, sir, sit down. (PATIENT sits, L.) And now, my good sir, what may your trouble be?

Pa. Indeed, doctor, I'm not very sure; but I'm thinking it's a kind of weakness that makes me dizzy at times, and a kind of pinkling about my stomach; - I'm just na right.

Dr. You are from the west country, I should suppose, sir? Pa. Yes, sir, from Glasgow.

Dr. Ay; pray, sir, are you a glutton?

Pa. Heaven forbid, sir! I'm one of the plainest men living in all the west country.

Dr. Then, perhaps, you are a drunkard?

Pa. No, Dr. Gregory; thank Heaven, no one can accuse me I'm of the dissenting persuasion, doctor, and an elder; so you may suppose I'm na drunkard.

Dr. I'll suppose no such thing till you tell me your mode of life. I'm so much puzzled with your symptoms, sir, that I should wish to hear in detail what you do eat and drink. When do you breakfast, and what do you take at it?

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