And whereas he shall live and be beloved,
"Tis hard for us to work his overthrow.

But were he here detested as he is,

How easily might some base slave be suborned
To greet his lordship with a poniard,
And none so much as blame the murderer,
But rather praise him for the brave attempt,
For purging of the realm of such a plague!
On these conditions, my lords, you say you consent.
In this, I count me highly gratified,

And Mortimer will rest at your command.

QUEEN. And when this favour Isabel forgets,

Then let her live abandoned and forlorn.
But see, in happy time, my lord, the King
Having brought the Earl of Cornwall on his way,
Is new returned. This news will glad him much,
Yet not so much as me. I love him more
Than he can Gaveston; would he love me
But half so well, then were I treble-blessed!
[Exeunt.]

EDW. He's

[EDWARD enters, mourning.]

gone, and for his absence thus I mourn. Did never sorrow go so near my heart

As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston!

And could my crown's revenue bring him back,

I would freely give it to his enemies,

And think I gained, having bought so dear a friend.
My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,

Which beats upon it like the Cyclops' hammers,
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain.
Ah! had some fiend with my kingly sceptre
Struck me dead ere this grief had come!
[Enter QUEEN.]

QUEEN. My gracious lord, I come to bring you news.

QUEEN. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repealed.

EDW. Repealed! the news is too sweet to be true!
find it so?

QUEEN.
EDW. If it be so, what will not Edward do?

But will you love me, if you

QUEEN. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel.

EDW. For thee, fair Queen; if thou will it so,
I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck,
Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success.

QUEEN. No other jewels hang about my neck

Than these, my lord; nor let me have more wealth
Than I may fetch from thy rich treasury.

Oh, how thy smile revives poor Isabel!

EDW. Once more receive my hand, and let this be
A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me.

QUEEN. And may it prove more happy than the first!

[The QUEEN and MORTIMER conspire to dethrone the KING, and place her son on the throne.]

MOR. Fair Isabel, now have we our desire,

The proud corrupters of the light-brained King
Have done their homage to the lofty gallows,

And he himself is in captivity.

Be ruled by me, and we will rule the realm.

In any case, take heed of childish fear,
For now we hold an old wolf by the ears,
That, if he slip, will seize upon us both;
Think, therefore, Madam, it imports us much
To erect your son with all the speed we may,
And that I be made protector over him
For our behoof. Twill bear the greater sway

QUEEN. Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabel,

Be thou persuaded that I love thee well,

And, therefore, so the prince, my son, be safe,
Whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes,
Conclude against his father as thou wilt,
And I will willingly subscribe.

[A brief interval of soft music. Enter QUEEN and
MORTIMER, after EDWARD's death.

QUEEN. Ah, Mortimer, the King, my son, hath news-
His father's dead, and we have murdered him!

MOR. What if we have ? The King is yet a child.

QUEEN. Aye, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands,
And vows to be revenged upon us both.

Into the council-chamber he is gone,

To crave the aid and succour of his peers.

Ah, me! See where he comes, and they with him;
Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedy!

DON QUIXOTE AND THE HUNTRESS.

MIGUEL DE

CERVANTES-SAAVEDRA.

DON

ON QUIXOTE and Sancho Panza, issuing from a forest near sunset on the day following the famous adventure of the enchanted bark, espied sundry persons at a distance, who, it appeared, were taking the diversion of hawking; and among them he remarked a gay lady mounted on a palfrey, or milk-white pad, with green furniture and a side-saddle of cloth of silver. Her own attire was also green, and so rich and beautiful that she was elegance itself. On her left hand she carried a hawk; whence Don Quixote conjectured that she must be a lady of high rank, and mistress of the hunting-party (as in truth she was), and there

"Hasten, Sancho, and make known to the lady of the palfrey and the hawk that I, the Knight of the Lions, humbly salute her highness, and, with her gracious leave, would be proud to kiss her fair hands, and serve her to the utmost of my power and her highness's commands; but take especial care, Sancho, how thou deliverest my message."

Sancho set off at a good rate, forcing Dapple out of his usual pace, and went up to the fair huntress; then alighting, and kneeling before her, said:

"Beauteous lady, that Knight yonder, called the Knight of the Lions, is my master, and I am his squire, Sancho Panza, by name. That same Knight sends me to beg your grandeur that you would give leave that, with your liking and good-will, he may approach and accomplish his wishes, which are no other than to serve your exalted beauty, which, if your ladyship grant, will redound to the great benefit of your highness, and to him will be a mighty favor and satisfaction."

"Truly, good squire," answered the lady, "you have delivered your message with all the circumstances such embassies require. Rise up, I pray, for it is not fit the squire of so renowned a knight should remain upon his knees. Rise, friend, and desire your master, by all means to honor us with his company, that my lord

duke and I may pay him our respects at a rural mansion we have hard by."

Sancho rose, no less amazed at the lady's beauty than at her affability and courteous deportment. "Pray," said the Duchess, "is not your master the person of whom there is a history in print, called 'The Ingenious Gentleman, Don Quixote de la Mancha,' and who has for his mistress a certain lady named Dulcinea del Toboso?"

"The very same," answered Sancho, "and that squire of his, called Sancho Panza, who is, or ought to be, spoken of in the same history, am I, unless I was changed in the cradle,-I mean in the printing."

"I am much delighted by what you tell me," quoth the Duchess.

hearty welcome to my house; and tell him nothing could happen to me which would afford me greater pleasure."

Sancho, overjoyed at this gracious answer, hastened to his master, and repeated to him all the great lady had said, extolling to the skies, in his rustic phrase, her extraordinary beauty and courteous behavior. Don Quixote seated himself handsomely in his saddle, adjusted his visor, enlivened Rozinante's mettle, and, assuming a polite and stately deportment, advanced to kiss the hand of the Duchess. Her grace, in the meantime, having called the Duke, her husband, had already given him an account of the embassy she had just received; and, as they were aware of the extravagant humor of Don Quixote, they waited for him with infinite pleasure. Don Quixote now arrived, with his beaver up, and signifying his intention to alight, Sancho was hastening to hold his stirrup; but, unfortunately, in dismounting from Dapple, his foot caught in one of the rope-stirrups in such a manner that it was impossible for him to disentangle himself; and he hung by it, with his face and breast on the ground. Don Quixote, who was not accustomed to alight without having his stirrup held, thinking that Sancho was already there to do his office, threw his body off with a swing of his right leg, that brought down Rozinante's saddle; and, the girth giving way, both he and the saddle, to his great shame and mortification, came to the ground, where he lay, muttering between his teeth many a heavy execration against the unfortunate Sancho, who was still hanging by the leg. The Duke, having commanded some of his attendants to relieve the Knight and the squire, they raised Don Quixote, who, though much discomposed by his fall, rose and limping made an effort to approach and kneel before the lady. The Duke, however, embraced him, saying:

"I am sorry, Sir Knight, that such a mischance should happen to you on your first arrival in my domain; but the negligence of squires is often the occasion of even greater disasters."

"The moment cannot be unfortunate that introduces me to your highness," replied Don Quixote, "and, had my fall been to the centre of the deep abyss, the glory of seeing your highness would