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THE BOOK 
 
 SHAKESPEARE GEMS 
 
 ^^ 
 
 SERIES OF LANDSCAPE ILLUSTRATIONS'^^ 
 
 OF THE MOST INTERESTING LOCALITIES OP 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S DRAMAS. 
 
 V^, 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, 
 
 1854. 
 
C{1)0- 
 
 p?^ 
 
 
 LONDON : 
 GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, 
 
 ST. John's square. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I Much Ado about Nothing E. Raddyffe. 
 
 SUBJECT. IllUSIRATlirO KNGRAVBR 
 
 Shakespeare Relics J. Carter. 
 
 View of the Island op IV19A1 
 
 anbCape Fokmentera } The Tempest J.Woods. 
 
 Scene in the Island op IV19A The Tempest J. Woods. 
 
 Veron a Two Gentlemen of Verona J. Woods. 
 
 Windsor Merry Wives of Windsor J. C. Varrall. 
 
 Herne's Oak Merry Wives of Windsor J.Woods 
 
 Vienna Measure for Measure J. HinchlifTe 
 
 Ephesus Comedy of Errors J. Carter. 
 
 SaUARE OP THE CATHEDRAL, MeS- 
 SINA 
 
 Palace op the King op Navarre. Love's Labour's Lost J. Hinchiiffe. 
 
 A Wood near Athens A Midsummer Night's Dream J. Woods. 
 
 The Rialto at Venice Merchant of Venice E. Radclyflfe. 
 
 The Forest op Arden As You Like It J. C. VarralL 
 
 Padua Taming of the Shrew J. Godfrey. 
 
 Florence .*. AU's Well that Ends Well J. HinchliflTe. 
 
 Waterfall at Kirka, Coast op-k m in. ^t- t.. , -^ , 
 
 \ Twelfth Night J. Woods. 
 
 Illtria '' 
 
 Sicily A Winter's Tale J. Woods. 
 
 Abbey of St. Edmund's Bury King John J. C. Varrall. 
 
 Remains of Flint Castle Richard II. J. Woods. 
 
 Bangor, North Wales i.enry IV. Part I J. Tingle. 
 
 Remains op Warkworth Castle... Henry IV. Part II „... J. Woods. 
 
 Gate AND Walls of Southampton. Henry V J. Tingle. 
 
 Palace of the Duke of Bedford 1 
 
 [ Henry VI. Parti J.Godfrey. 
 
 AT R0UE».__ ) ' 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SUBJECT. ILLUSTRATING. ENGRAVER. 
 
 Interior of Westminster Abbey, . Henry VI. Part I W. F. Starling. 
 
 St. Alban's Henry VI. Part II J.Carter. 
 
 Apartment in the Tower of) 
 
 I Henry VI. Part III E.Benjamin. 
 
 Council Chamber, Tower of Lon 
 
 don 
 
 Remains of Leicester Abbey 
 
 } Richard III J. C. Varrall. 
 
 Henry VIII J. C. Varrall. 
 
 Castle of Tenedos Troilus and Cressida J. Woods. 
 
 Remains of the Citadel of Troy . Troilus and Cressida J. Woods. 
 
 The Forum at Rome Coriolanus J. Woods. 
 
 Palace of Saturninus at Rome. ... xitus Andronicus F. Starling. 
 
 Mantua Romeo and Juliet J. Hinchliffe. 
 
 Restoration of the Market^ 
 
 Place at Athens I T™°" «^ ^*h«"« J- C- Fe«n. 
 
 Restoration of the Temple of'j 
 
 Jupiter Olympius, the Acro- I 
 
 POLis, AND THE THEATRE OF ^ TimoH of Athens B. Winkles. 
 
 Hadrian, at Athens J 
 
 Rome Julius Caesar J. Godfrey. * 
 
 7**Dunsinane Macbeth J. Woods. 
 
 Elsinore Hamlet J. Smith. 
 
 The Shakespeare Cliff AT Dover. King Lear J. Woods. 
 
 Cyprus Othello J- Woods. 
 
 Interior of the Palace of Cleo--j 
 
 I Antony and Cleopatra W. F. Starling. 
 
 Apartment in Csisar's House Antony and Cleopatra J. Woods. 
 
 Apartment IN Philario's House ) , . , 
 
 „ i Cymbeline J. Tingle. 
 
 at Rome ' 
 
 Stock Rock at Milford Haven. ... Cymbeline J. Woods. 
 
 Remains of the Palace at Ak-j 
 
 [ Pericles J. Tingle. 
 
 tioch > ** 
 
THE BOAR'S HEAD, EASTCHEAP. 
 
 Dame Honetball was a likely, plump, bustling little woman, and no 
 bad substitute for that paragon of hostesses, Dame Quickly. She 
 seemed delighted with an opportunity to oblige ; and hurrying up 
 stairs to the archives of her house, where the precious vessels of the 
 parish club were deposited, she returned, smiling and courtesying, with 
 them in her hand. 
 
 The first she presented me was a japanned iron tobacco-box, of 
 gigantic size, out of which, I was told, the vestry had smoked at their 
 stated meetings, since time immemorial ; and which was never suffered 
 to be profaned by vulgar hands, or used on common occasions. I 
 received it with becoming reverence : but what was my delight, at 
 beholding on its cover the identical painting of which I was in quest ! 
 There was displayed the outside of the Boar's Head tavern, and before 
 the door was to be seen the whole convivial group^ at table, in full 
 revel ; pictured with that wonderful fidelity and force, with which the 
 portraits of renowned generals and commodores are illustrated on 
 tobacco-boxes, for the benefit of posterity. Lest, however, there should 
 be any mistake, the cunning limner had warily inscribed the names of 
 Prince Hal and FalstafF on the bottoms of their chairs. 
 
 On the inside of the cover was an inscription, nearly obliterated, 
 recording that this box was the gift of Sir Richard Gore for the use 
 of the vestry meetings at the Boar's Head tavern, and that it was 
 "repaired and beautified by his successor, Mr. John Packard, 1767." 
 Such is a faithful description of this august and venerable relic ; and 
 I question whether the learned Scriblerius contemplated his Roman 
 shield, or the Knights of the Round Table the long-sought saint-greal, 
 with more exultation. 
 
 While I was meditating on it with enraptured gaze, Dame Honey- 
 ball, who was highly gratified by the interest it excited, put in my 
 hands a drinking cup or goblet, which also belonged to the vestry, and 
 was descended from the old Boar's Head. It bore the inscription of 
 having been the gift of Francis Wythers, Knight, and was held, she 
 told me, in exceeding great value, being considered very "antyke." 
 This last opinion was strengthened by the shabby gentleman in the 
 red nose and oil-cloth hat, and whom I strongly suspect to be a lineal 
 descendant from the valiant Bardolph. He suddenly aroused from his 
 meditation on the pot of porter, and casting a knowing look at the 
 goblet, exclaimed, " Ay, ay ! the head don't ache now that made that 
 there article ! " 
 
 The great importance attached to this memento of ancient revelry 
 by modern churchwardens at first puzzled me : but there is nothing 
 sharpens the apprehension so much as antiquarian research ; for I im- 
 mediately perceived that this could be no other than the identical 
 
THE BOAR S HEAD, EASTCHEAP. 
 
 "parcel-gilt goblet** on which FalstafFmade his loving but faithless vow 
 to Dame Quickly ; and which would, of course, be treasured up with 
 care among the regalia of her domains, as a testimony of that solemn 
 contract. 
 
 Mine hostess, indeed, gave me a long history how the goblet had 
 been handed down from generation to generation. . She also enter- 
 tained me with many particulars concerning the worthy vestrymen 
 who had seated themselves thus quietly on the stools of the ancient 
 roysters of Eastcheap, and, like so many commentators, utter clouds of 
 smoke in honour of Shakespeare. These I forbear to relate, lest my 
 readers should not be as curious in these matters as myself. Suffice it 
 to say, the neighbours, one and all, about Eastcheap, believe that 
 FalstafF and his merry crew actually lived and revelled there. Nay, 
 there are several legendary anecdotes concerning him still extant 
 among the oldest frequenters of the Mason's Arms, which they give as 
 transmitted down from their forefathers ; and Mr. M'Kash, an Irish 
 hair-dresser, whose shop stands on the site of the old Boar's Head, 
 has several dry jokes of Fat Jack's, not laid down in the books, with 
 which he makes his customers ready to die of laughter. 
 
 Thus have I given a "tedious brief" account of this interesting 
 research, for which, if it prove too short and unsatisfactory, I can only 
 plead my inexperience in this branch of literature, so deservedly popu- 
 lar at the present day. I am aware that a more skilful illustrator of 
 the immortal bard would have swelled the materials I have touched 
 upon to a good merchantable bulk ; comprising the biographies of 
 William Walworth, Jack Straw, and Robert Preston ; some notice of 
 the eminent fishmongers of St. Michael's ; the history of Eastcheap, 
 great and little ; private anecdotes of Dame Honeyball and her pretty 
 daughter, whom I have not even mentioned ; to say nothing of a 
 damsel tending the breast of lamb (and whom, by the way, I remarked 
 to be a comely lass, with a neat foot and ankle) ; — the whole enlivened 
 by the riots of Wat Tyler, and illuminated by the great fire of London. 
 
 All this I leave as a rich mine, to be worked by future commentators ; 
 nor do I despair of seeing the tobacco-box, and the "parcel-gilt goblet," 
 which I have thus brought to light, the subject of future engravings, 
 and almost as fruitful of voluminous dissertations and disputes as the 
 shield of Achilles, or the far-famed Portland vase. 
 
 Washington Irving. 
 
 The relics here depicted are the goblet and tobacco-box, at present 
 deposited with the books and other property of the parish in the strong 
 room of Fishmongers' Hall, in whose possession Walworth's dagger 
 still remains. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE II. 
 
 Prospero and Miranda. 
 
 Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you have 
 Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them : 
 The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, 
 But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek. 
 Dashes the fire out. O, I have sufFer'd 
 With those that I saw suffer ! a brave vessel, 
 Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, 
 Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock 
 Against my very heart ! Poor souls ! they perish'd. 
 Had I been any god of power, I would 
 Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er 
 It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and 
 The fraughting souls within her. 
 
THE ISLAND OF IVICA. 
 
 IV19A or Iviza, one of the smaller Balearic Isles. The name 
 Balearic is derived from the Greek 'to tliirow,' the original 
 inhabitants being very expert in the use of the sling. 
 

 '^jT 
 
IVICA AND FORMENTERA. 
 
 It is almost a vain labour to endeavour to fix the locality of a scene 
 which, in all probability, had no existence save in the Poet's imagina- 
 tion ; but while selecting a fitting spot for the illustration of a text 
 left in so much doubt, it is as well to consider the very few hints 
 thrown out, and by connecting them together, endeavour to arrive at 
 some conclusion as near the truth as possible. Whilst many islands, 
 from Bermuda to Lampedusa, have been called by the name of Pros- 
 pero, and honoured as the undoubted scene of the Tempest, the little 
 isle of Formentera has been entirely overlooked. 
 
 Formentera is one of the Balearic isles, and but a few miles in 
 extent, not far south of Ivifa ; the northern portion is flat, but ter- 
 minates to the south in a high and precipitous rock. Against this rock 
 might the navy of Naples have been wrecked, while they who were 
 landed at its base could have wandered long in the vain search after 
 those who had been parted from them by the tempest and the wave 
 The great difiiculty in coming to a conclusion lies in the situation of 
 Milan, which, being an inland city surrounded by various and jealous 
 states, would render a journey through one or more of these states 
 absolutely necessary before arriving at the sea. We may suppose, 
 however, that the king of Naples, being the confederate in the 
 abduction of the duke of INIilan and his daughter, would choose the 
 shortest way for the assistants in the tragedy to traverse : thus the 
 vessels might sail from Naples to Genoa, whence, entering into 
 the dukedom of Milan, where the road was open for the enterprise, 
 small difficulties would remain to be encountered. The vessel sailing 
 from Genoa would direct its course southward on its return for 
 Naples, and the "rotten carcase of a boat, not rigged, nor tackle, 
 sail, nor mast, which the very rats instinctively had left," would 
 have been borne by the current, setting strong to the south-west, 
 direct to the island of lvi9a. That the Mediterranean is full of 
 conflicting currents, every one can tell who has floated on its blue 
 waters ; in fact, it was during a voyage in that most beauteous of all 
 seas, that the idea first arose as to the fitness of Formentera to 
 the descriptions of Shakespeare. The current sets two ways into this 
 rocky yet fertile isle, that from the north running by the western, and 
 that from the south by the eastern side, so that in calms, for it must 
 have been calm, or Prospero's boat, as it is described, could not have 
 lived an hour, vessels often find it difficult to clear oft' on account of 
 the strong currents. Besides, the voyage would not have been half 
 the length, nor the distance from Milan to the sea nearly so great, as 
 in the case of Lampedusa ; nor is it likely that the Neapolitans, who 
 were always timid seamen, would venture the longer road by the south 
 of Italy, coasting the entire island of Sicily, as well as the dreaded 
 Barbary coast, when so much more convenient and secure a road lay 
 open by Genoa. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 In the Island of IV19A. 
 
 Enter Ferdjnand, hearing a Log. 
 
 Per, There be some sports are painful ; and their labour 
 Delight in them sets off : some kinds of baseness 
 Are nobly undergone ; and most poor matters 
 Point to rich ends. This my mean task 
 Would be as heavy to me as odious ; but 
 The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead, 
 And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is 
 Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed ; 
 And he's composed of harshness. I must remove 
 Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up. 
 Upon a sore injunction : My sweet mistress 
 Weeps when she sees me work ; and says such baseness 
 Had ne'er like executor. I forget : 
 But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours ; 
 Most busy-less, when I do it. 
 
IN TH [ I SI- AN D OF I VIC A 
 
 J rcrgrj .• 
 But tii/>S£^ swat, thoughts dc eyt:n refresh, mv labours . 
 Mostbusy-l&ss, wh&nJ dx it. ' 
 
 rtMfcsT. iicr 3 scr' 
 
VERONA. 
 
 I HAVE been over Verona. The amphitheatre is wonderful — • 
 beats even Greece. Of the truth of Juliet's story they seem 
 tenacious to a degree, insisting on the fact, giving a date (1303), 
 and showing a tomb. It is a plain, open, and partly decayed 
 m sarcophagus, with withered leaves in it, in a wild and desolate 
 conventual garden, once a cemetery, now ruined to the very 
 graves. The situation struck me as very appropriate to the 
 legend, being blighted as their love. 
 
 I have brought away a few pieces of the granite to give to my 
 daughter and my nieces. Of the other marvels of this city, 
 paintings, antiquities, &c., excepting the tombs of the Scaliger 
 princes, I have no pretensions to judge. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 The evening cleared up as we approached Verona, the environs 
 of which are beautiful, and the town itself has a gay and pleasing 
 appearance. 
 
 Diary of an Invalid. 
 
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. SCENE I. 
 
 Verona. 
 
 Laxmce. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping ; 
 all the kind of the Launces have this very fault : I have received 
 my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with 
 sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be 
 the sourest-natured dog that lives : my mother weeping, my father 
 wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing 
 her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not 
 this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear ; he is a stone, a very 
 pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog : a Jew 
 would have wept to have seen our parting ; why, my grandam 
 having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. 
 Nay, I'll show you the manner of it : This shoe is my father ; — 
 no, this left shoe is my father; — no, no, this left shoe is my 
 mother; — nay, that cannot be so neither: — yes, it is so, it is 
 so ; it hath the worser sole ; This shoe, with the hole in it, is 
 my mother, and this my father ; A vengeance on't ! there 'tis : 
 now, sir, this staff is my sister ; for, look you, she is as white 
 as a lily, and as small as a wand : this hat is Nan, our maid ; 
 I am the dog : — no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog, — 
 O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come 
 I to my father ; Father, your blessing ; now should not the shoe 
 speak a word for weeping ; now should I kiss my father ; well, 
 he weeps on ; — now come I to my mother, (O, that she could 
 speak now !) like a wood woman ; — well, I kiss her ; — why, 
 there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up and down ; now come 
 I to my sister ; mark the moan she makes : now the dog all 
 this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word ; but see how^ I 
 lay the dust with my tears. 
 
WINDSOR-, 
 
 Was supposed by Camden to derive its name from Windleshora^ 
 a Saxon term, expressive of winding hanks, and in this place 
 applied with peculiar propriety to the meandering course of the 
 Thames. The earliest authentic information concerning its history 
 is contained in a charter of Edward the Confessor's, by which 
 it was granted, with various other lands, to the monastery of 
 St. Peter, Westminster. This valuable gift continued but a 
 short time in the possession of the abbey. A district favoured 
 by nature with so many charms, and so peculiarly adapted to the 
 sports of the field, could not be expected to escape the attention 
 of a monarch whose darling passion was the chase. William the 
 Conqueror was no sooner established on the throne, than he 
 observed the beauties of this situation, and quickly prevailed on 
 the abbot to exchange it for certain lands and manors in Essex. 
 Thus it was again vested in the Crown, where, with the excep- 
 tion of the time of the Commonwealth, it has ever since remained. 
 
 The magnificent residence of the British sovereigns is most 
 delightfully situated on the summit of a lofty hill, whose base is 
 laved by the pellucid waters of the Thames. The prospects to 
 the east, west, and north, are extensive and beautiful, being 
 enlivened by the windings of the river, and variegated with 
 elegant mansions, luxuriant meadows, and gentle eminences, 
 covered with the rich foliage of innumerable woods. On the 
 south, the view is bounded by the wild and picturesque scenery 
 of the Forest, intermingled with a great variety of verdant accom- 
 paniments. 
 
 Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain ; 
 Here earth and water seem to strive again ; 
 Not chaos like, together crush'd and bruised. 
 But, as the world, harmoniously confused ; 
 Where order in variety we see, 
 And where, tho* all things differ, all agree. 
 
 B 
 
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE V, 
 
 Windsor /ro7» the Thames. 
 
 Falstaff and Ford. 
 
 Fal. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple of Ford's 
 knaves, his hinds, were called forth by their mistress, to carry 
 me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet-lane : they t;oDk me 
 on their shoulders ; met the jealous knave their master in the 
 door ; who asked them once or twice what they had in their 
 basket: I quaked for fear lest the lunatic knave would have 
 searched it ; but fate, ordaining he should be a cuckold, held his 
 hand. Well : on went he for a search, and away went I for foul 
 clothes. But mark the sequel. Master Brook : I suffered the 
 pangs of three several deaths : first, an intolerable fright, to be 
 detected with a jealous rotten bell-wether : next, to be compassed, 
 like a good bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, 
 heel to head : and then, to be stopped in, like a strong distillation, 
 with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease : think of 
 that, — a man of my kidney, — think of that ; that am as subject 
 to heat, as butter ; a man of continual dissolution and thaw ; it 
 was a miracle to 'scape suffocation. And in the height of this 
 bath, when I was more than half stewed in grease, like a Dutch 
 dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and cooled, glowing hot, in 
 that surge, like a horseshoe ; think of that,^-hissing hot, — think 
 of that. Master Brook. 
 
HERNE'S OAK, WINDSOR. 
 
 The most interesting tree, however, at Windsor, for there can be little 
 doubt of its identity, is the celebrated Heme's Oak. There is indeed 
 a story prevalent in the neighbourhood respecting its destruction. It 
 was stated to have been felled by command of his late Majesty George 
 III. about fifty years ago, under peculiar circumstances. The whole 
 story, the details of which it is unnecessary to enter upon, appeared so 
 improbable, that I have taken some pains to ascertain the inaccuracy 
 of it, and have now every reason to believe that it is perfectly unfounded. 
 Heme's Oak is probably still standing, at least there is a tree which 
 some old inhabitants of Windsor consider as such, and which their 
 fathers did before them — the best proof perhaps of its identity. In 
 following the footpath which leads from the Windsor road to Queen 
 Adelaide's Lodge, in the Little Park, about half way on the right, a 
 dead tree may be seen close to an avenue of elms. This is what is 
 pointed 'but as Heme's Oak. I can almost fancy it the very picture of 
 death. Not a leaf — not a particle of vitality appears about it. " The 
 hunter must have blasted it." It stretches out its bare and sapless 
 branches, like the skeleton arms of some enormous giant, and is almost 
 fearful in its decay. None of the delightful associations connected with 
 it have however vanished, nor is it difficult to fancy it as the scene of 
 Falstaff's distress, and the pranks of the " Merry Wives." Among 
 many appropriate passages which it brought to my recollection was 
 
 • " There want not many that do fear 
 
 In deep of night to walk by this Heme's Oak." 
 
 Its spectral branches might indeed deter many from coming near it 
 " 'twixt twelve and one." 
 
 The footpath which leads across the park is stated to have passed in 
 former times close to Heme's Oak. The path is now at a little distance 
 from it, and was probably altered in order to protect the tree from 
 injury. I was glad to find " a pit hard by," where " Nan and her troop 
 of fairies, and the Welch Devil Evans," might all have " couched," 
 without being perceived by the fat "Windsor stag" when he spake like 
 " Heme the hunter." The pit above alluded to has had a few thoms 
 planted in it, and the circumstance of its being near the oak, with the 
 diversion of the footpath, seem to prove the identity of the tree, in 
 addition to the traditions. 
 
 The last acorn I believe which was found on Heme's Oak was given 
 to the late Sir David Dundas of Richmond, and was planted by him on 
 his estate in Wales, where it now flourishes, and has a suitable inscrip- 
 tion near it. I have reason to think that Sir David Dundas never 
 entertained a doubt of the tree I have referred to being Heme's Oak, 
 and he had the best opportunities of ascertaining it. In digging holes 
 near the tree lately, for the purpose of fixing the present fence round 
 it, several old coins were found, as if they had been deposited there as 
 future memorials of the interest this tree had excited. 
 
 Jesse's Gleanings. 
 
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE V, 
 
 Windsor Park. 
 
 Falstaff, Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir John ? art thou there, my deer ? my male 
 deer ? 
 
 Fal. My doe with the black scut ? — Let the sky rain pota- 
 toes ; let it thunder to the tune of Green sleeves ; hail kissing- 
 comfits, and snow eringoes ; let there come a tempest of provo- 
 cation, I will shelter me here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart. 
 
 Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haunch : I will 
 keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this 
 walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a wood- 
 man ? ha ! Speak I like Heme the hunter ? — Why, now is 
 Cupid a child of conscience ; he makes restitution. As I am a 
 true spirit, welcome. 
 
tj or. Sargrnt 
 
 Juhn Woods 
 
 H ERNES OAK 
 
 heaven forfi/e our suis. 
 
THE GRABEN, VIENNA. 
 
 The Graben is situated near the centre of the capital, and, being 
 celebrated for its shops and coffee-houses, is one of the most 
 frequented places. In it stands a column dedicated to the Holy 
 Trinity, by the Emperor Leopold I., in fulfilment of a vow he 
 had made on the cessation of the plague of the year 1679. It is 
 constructed of white Saltzbourg marble, and is in form a trian- 
 gular column, enveloped in clouds. At one end of this place is 
 a fountain surmounted by a statue of St. Leopold ; at the other 
 end is one with the statue of St. Joseph. 
 
MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE I. 
 
 Vienna. — The Graben. 
 
 Isab. Justice, O royal duke ! Vail your regard 
 Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid 1 
 O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye 
 By throwing it on any other object, 
 Till you have heard me in my true complaint, 
 And given me, justice, justice, justice, justice ! 
 
1 
 
EPHESUS. 
 
 The Temple of Diana is situated towards the south-west corner of the 
 plain, having a lake on the west side, now become a morass, extending 
 westward to the Cayster. This building and the courts about it were 
 encompassed every way with a strong wall : that to the west of the 
 lake and to the north was likewise the wall of the city ; there is a 
 double wall to the south. Within these walls were four courts : that 
 is, one on every side of the temple, and on each side of the court to 
 the west there was a large open portico, or colonnade, extending to 
 the lake, on which arches of brick were turned for a covering. The 
 front of the temple was to the east. The temple was built on arches, 
 to which there is a descent. I went a great way in, till I was stopped 
 either by earth thrown down, or by the water. They consist of several 
 narrow arches, one within another. It is probable they extended to 
 the porticoes on each side of the western court, and served for founda- 
 tions to those pillars. This being a morassy ground, made the expense 
 of such a foundation so necessary ; on which, it is said, as much was 
 bestowed as on the fabric above ground. It is probable, also, that the 
 shores [sewers] of the city passed this way into the lake. I saw a great 
 number of pipes made of earthenware in these passages ; but it may be 
 questioned whether they were to convey the filth of the city under 
 these passages, or the water from the lake to the basin which was to 
 the east of the temple, or to any other part of the city. In the front 
 of the temple there seems to have been a grand portico. Before this 
 part there lay three pieces of red granite pillars, each being about 
 fifteen feet long, and one of grey broken into two pieces : they were 
 all three feet and a half in diameter. There are four pillars of the 
 former sort in the mosque of St. John, at the village of Aiasalouck. I 
 saw also a fine entablature : and on one of the columns in the mosque 
 there is a most beautiful composite capital, which without doubt 
 belonged to it. There are great remains of the pillars of the temple, 
 which were built of large hewn stone, and probably cased with marble ; 
 but, from what I saw of one part, I had reason to conclude that arches 
 of brick were turned on them, and that the whole temple, as well as 
 these pillars, was incrusted with rich marbles. On the stone-work of 
 the middle grand apartment there are a great number of small holes, 
 as if designed in order to fix the marble casing. It is probable that the 
 statue of the great goddess Diana of the Ephesians was either in the 
 grand middle compartment or opposite to it. 
 
 Pococke's Travels. 
 
COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT II. SCENE II. 
 
 Ephesus. 
 Dromio. This is the fairy land. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE II. 
 
 AntipJiolus. They say, this town is full of cozenage 
 As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye. 
 Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, 
 Soul-killing witches that deform the body, 
 Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, 
 And many such like liberties of sin. 
 
MESSINA. 
 
 The town of Messina lies on the east coast of Sicily. The 
 harbour, which is more than two miles in circumference, is formed 
 by a strip of sandy beach, projecting into the sea in a semicircle. 
 The greater part of the town rises in the form of a crescent on 
 one side of the harbour, along which is a handsome quay, con- 
 stituting a favourite promenade, lined on one side by a row of 
 elegant houses. Among other remarkable buildings of Messina, 
 are the cathedral, the churches of La Candlera and of the Capu- 
 chins, which contain several fine paintings : there are, also, the 
 archiepiscopal palace, the royal palace, the senate-house, the 
 royal college, and two theatres. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE III. 
 
 Messina. — Square of the Cathedral. 
 
 BoRACHio and Conrade. 
 
 Bora. But know, that I have to-night woo'd Margaret, the 
 lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero ; she leans me 
 out at her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand times 
 good night, — I tell this tale vilely : — I should first tell thee how 
 the prince, Claudio, and ray master, planted, and placed, and 
 possessed by my master don John, saw afar off in the orchard 
 this amiable encounter. 
 
 Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero ? 
 
 Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio ; but the 
 devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his 
 oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which 
 did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm 
 any slander that don John had made, away went Claudio enraged ; 
 swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at 
 the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her 
 with what he saw o'er night, and send her home again without 
 a husband. 
 
i 
 
PALACE OF THE KING OF NAVARRE. 
 
 Navarre, lying immediately beneath the highest Pyrenees, now 
 a province of Spain, the ancient Pompeiopolis, or city of Pompey, 
 was for some centuries an independent kingdom : in 1512, 
 Ferdinand, king of Spain, obtained possession of it and annexed 
 it to Spain. Pamplona, anciently the residence of the court of 
 Navarre, is still an extensive city, and being strongly fortified, 
 it is one of the chief bulwarks of the Peninsula : it was reduced 
 by the Duke of Wellington in 1813. Navarre, from its moun- 
 tainous character, is by nature isolated from the countries around 
 it ; the natives are hardy and brave, and strongly attached to 
 their government and religion : they are represented to be grave 
 and reserved, but witty and shrewd ; obstinate and quarrelsome, 
 yet industrious and honest. 
 
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE II. 
 
 Palace of the King 0/ Navarre. 
 
 King of Navarre and Princess of France, 
 
 King. We came to visit you ; and purpose now 
 To lead you to our court : vouchsafe it then. 
 
 Prin. This field shall hold me : and so liold your vow : 
 Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men. 
 
 King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke ; 
 The virtue of your eye must break my oath. 
 
 Prin. You nick-name virtue : vice you should have spoke ; 
 For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. 
 Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure 
 As the unsullied lily, I protest, 
 A world of torments though I should endure, 
 I would not yield to be your house's guest : 
 So much I hate a breaking-cause to be 
 Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. 
 
.^3J GT SarffsBX. 
 
 PARK AND PALACE OF THE KING OF NAVARRE 
 
 ^or Gcd . n-jr I, dMi^hts ljl p^ 
 
A WOOD NEAR ATHENS, 
 
 Behold, 
 
 Where on the ^gean shore a city stands, 
 
 Built nobly, pure the air, and light the soil ! 
 
 Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts 
 
 And eloquence, native to famous wits 
 
 Or hospitable, in her sweet recess, 
 
 City or suburban, studious walks and shades. 
 
 See there the olive grove of Academe, 
 
 Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird 
 
 Trills her thick- warbled notes the summer long ; 
 
 There flowery hill Hymettus, with the sound 
 
 Of bees' industrious murmur, oft invites 
 
 To studious musing ; there Ilissus rolls 
 
 His whispering stream : within the walls, then view 
 
 The schools of ancient sages ; his, who bred 
 
 Great Alexander to subdue the world, 
 
 Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next. 
 
 Paradise Regained. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 ACT II. SCENE IT. 
 
 A Wood near Athens.- — Moonlight, 
 
 Enter Demetrius, Helena following him. 
 
 Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. 
 Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia ? 
 The one I'll stay, the other stayeth me. 
 Thou told'st me they were stol'n into this wood. 
 And here am I, and wood within this wood. 
 Because I cannot meet my Hermia. 
 Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. 
 
VENICE. 
 
 As I sat in one of the balconies of the hotel, the calm waters of 
 the great canal of Venice rippling against the bridge of the Rialto 
 immediately before me, I thought of the Dandoli, the Foscari, 
 the Giustiniani, the Morosini, and other great and powerful men, 
 who once lived in those old massive palaces, reclining in the lap 
 of luxury, surrounded by Asiatic splendour, and armed with 
 power. But now, when I turn my eyes towards those buildings, 
 they are deserted by their lords. The successors of that ambitious 
 aristocracy, who built mansions suited to the fierce grandeur of 
 their free and elevated minds, are now degraded, and these 
 palaces are the abodes of strangers or menials, who seem lost in 
 the magnificence of such splendid halls. Venice, the city from 
 whose story Shakespeare chose the subject of some of his plays, 
 is no longer brilliant and flourishing. It bears evident traces of 
 premature decay. The life is gone ; its once gay inhabitants are 
 dwindled into the abject subjects of a foreign prince. The empty 
 gloomy-looking gondolas, the half-deserted quays, bridges, and 
 streets of the once famed " city of the waters," all indicate that 
 slavery, want, and oppression, have usurped the place of freedom, 
 riches, and power. 
 
 Sinclair's Autumn in Italy. 
 
 The Rialto — if no more were included under this name than 
 the single arch across the canal, the congregation of merchants 
 before whom Antonio used to rate Shylock must have been a 
 small one ; nor could Pierre well have chosen a worse place for 
 " his evening walk of meditation." The fact is, however, the 
 little island which formed the cradle of Venice, where the first 
 church was built by the fugitives from the persecution of Attila, 
 was called Riva-alta, or Rialto. Here too was the exchange 
 where the merchants met. In process of time, the bridge leading 
 to this island was called the Rialto and has at last become the 
 sole proprietor of the name. 
 
 Diary of an Invalid, 
 
MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 ACT II. SCENE VIII. 
 
 The Great Canal with the Rialto at Venice. 
 
 Salarino and Solanio. 
 
 Salar, Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail ; 
 With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
 And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not. 
 
 Solan, The villain Jew with outcries raised the duVe ; 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 
 Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail . 
 But there the duke was given to understand, 
 That in a gondola were seen together 
 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 
 Besides, Antonio certified the duke, 
 rhey were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 
FOREST OF ARDEN. 
 
 The early writers describe Warwickshire as naturally divisible 
 into two parts, the Teldon, or campaign, and the Arden, or 
 woodland, a name given by the Celtae to forests, however 
 situated. The Avon formed the line which separated these 
 tracts. Drayton asserts, with great probability of truth, that tlie 
 Arden of Warwickshire was the most important of the forests of 
 southern Britain. It extended from the banks of the Avon to the 
 Trent on' the north, and to the Severn on the west, being bounded 
 on the east by an imaginary line drawn from Highcross to Barton. 
 At the time the shire divisions of England were established, 
 certain portions of this wild fell to the share of Worcestershire 
 and Staffordshire, which counties bestowed on them those names 
 which they still hold. The Warwickshire part has long been 
 generally cleared of its thick and tangled woods, but in some 
 spots an occasional air of wildness is found, as if a colouring of 
 its ancient character remained, to afford some notion of what the 
 complexion of the county was when occupied by the Cangi of the 
 Comavii, and their numerous herds. In Shakespeare's time, 
 doubtless, the forest fragments were more entire and continuous, 
 to have induced him to have selected it as the spot where some 
 of his most interesting and beautiful scenes are acted. 
 
 Sir Thomas Dick Lauder. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 ACT 11. SCENE I. 
 
 The Forest of Arden. 
 Duke, Amiens, and Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; 
 And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
 Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. 
 To-day, my lord of Amiens and myself 
 Did steal behind him, as he lay along 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : 
 To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, 
 That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt, 
 Did come to languish ; and, indeed, my lord, 
 The wretched animal heaved forth such groans. 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting ; and the big round tears 
 Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase : and thus the hairy fool. 
 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duhe S. But what said Jaques ? 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 
 
 1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand similes. 
 First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; 
 ' Poor deer,' quoth he, ' thou mak'st a testament 
 As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
 To that which had too much.' Then being there alone, 
 Left and abandon'd of his velvet friend ; 
 ' 'Tis right,' quoth he ; ' thus misery doth part 
 The flux of company :' Anon, a careless herd, 
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, 
 And rever stays to greet him. 
 
PADUA. 
 
 Padua, successively destroyed by Attila, by Totila, and by 
 Agilulf the Lombard, became, for the fourth time, a flourishing 
 town under Charlemagne. Its republican history in the middle 
 ages ended in the usual subjection to princes (the Carrara), who 
 successfully cherished its famous schools ; and, after the city and 
 territory had become a province of the Venetian state, its semi- 
 naries were formed into a regular university. This institution 
 was in its highest fame during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, 
 and had Galileo as a professor till the beginning of the next ; but 
 now, though respectable, it is inferior to that of Pavia. Notwith- 
 standing, we visit with curiosity the source of light to which all 
 Europe flocked ; and where natural science was so well under- 
 stood, that the scholars of Padua were believed magicians. The 
 square of the University, a decorated court of the sixteenth 
 century, is curiously adorned with escutcheons of its most cele- 
 brated teachers and benefactors. The Town-hall is renowned for 
 its huge size, a pretended coffin of Livy, some other antiquities, 
 and the Stone of Offence, on which if a debtor sat, under certain 
 prescribed conditions, he was declared free for ever. The 
 churches of Sant' Antonio, and Santa Justina, are imitations of 
 St. Mark at Venice ; and they form, on one side, the screen of 
 the Pra della Valle, an open grassy area with a canal, adorned 
 by statues of eminent Italians. 
 
 The streets of Padua are broad, with arcades like those of 
 Bologna. The situation of the town is low ; but much of its 
 neighbourhood is beautiful. Spalding's Italy. 
 
 In thine halls the lamp of learning, 
 Padua, now no more is burning. 
 Like a meteor, whose wild way 
 Is lost over the grave of day. 
 It gleams, betray'd and to betray. 
 Once, remotest nations came 
 To adore that sacred flame, 
 When it lit not many a hearth 
 On this cold and gloomy earth ; 
 Now, new fires from antique light 
 Spring beneath the wide world's night : 
 But their spark lies dead in thee, 
 Trampled out by tyranny. Shelley. 
 
TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Padua. — ^The Prado. 
 
 LucENTio and Tranio. 
 
 Lucentio, Tranio, since for the great desire I had 
 To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, 
 I am arrived for fruitful Lombard y. 
 The pleasant garden of great Italy ; 
 And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd 
 With his good will, and thy good company. 
 My trusty servant, well approved in all ; 
 Here let us breathe, and happily institute 
 A course of learning, and ingenious studies. 
 
mm^r^ 
 
 »»ya<ttiift.T-,». • 
 
FLORENCE. 
 
 While the eye rests on this far-famed and beautiful city, its 
 magnificent edifices, fine architecture, and antique buildings, 
 rising in dark and imposing majesty, its bridges, and its noble 
 river, watering, far as the eye can reach, the vale of the lovely 
 Arno, the mind insensibly wanders back, and recals the days 
 when turbulence and bloody feuds raged within the walls ; when, 
 on the surrounding amphitheatre of hills, now luxuriant with the 
 olive and the vine, and richly studded with peaceful dwellings, 
 stood proudly frowning the castellated towers of the feudal chief, 
 at once the terror and protection to the city. 
 
 A river, even in a city that has no trade, still presents a busy 
 and an animating scene. In Florence, the Amo, with its 
 numerous bridges, offers all that is most gay and attractive in the 
 city. Its waters, radiant and sparkling in the mid-day sun, add 
 life to the whole prospect ; and when the heat is spent, and night 
 closes in, the landscape assumes a mellower hue, the starry, 
 cloudless sky, and clear pale moon, shining as it does in these 
 southern climates, with the splendour but of a lessened day. 
 The sensation produced from the continued return, on each 
 succeeding morning, of unchanging lovely weather, is peculiarly 
 striking to those who have been accustomed to the turbulence of 
 a northern sky. You lie down and rise to the same glorious 
 light, and meet again, as evening comes, the same soothing 
 feelings. 
 
 * Bell's Observations on Italy. 
 
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE V. 
 
 Without the Walls of Florence. 
 
 An old Widow 0/ Florence, Diana, and others. — Enter Helena 
 in the dress of a pilgrim. 
 
 Wid. Look, here comes a pilgrim : I know she will lie at my 
 house : thither they send one another : I '11 question her. — God 
 save you, pilgrim ! Whither are you bound ? 
 
 Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand. 
 Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you ? 
 
 Wid. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port. 
 
 Hel. Is this the way ? 
 
 Wid. Ay, marry is it. — Hark you ! 
 
 They come this way : — If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, 
 But till the troops come by, 
 I will conduct you where you shall be lodged ; 
 The rather, for I think I know your hostess 
 As ample as myself. 
 
 Hel. Is it yourself? 
 
 Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. 
 
 Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. 
 
TLLYRIA. 
 
 The name of Illyria had disappeared for many centuries from the 
 number of European countries, when Napoleon, after the con- 
 clusion of peace at Vienna, in 1809, gave to several tracts of 
 territory ceded by Austria, including Dalmatia, the name of the 
 Illyrian Provinces. 
 
 Illyria is on the whole a mountainous country, but the coasts 
 are partly low and sandy, and partly marshy, especially towards 
 the west. On the west the bay of Trieste, and on the east that 
 of Quamero, run deep into the land, and form the great peninsula 
 of Istria, the extreme point of which is Capo Promontore. In 
 the circles of Villach and Clagenfurt the soil is good, and the 
 valleys are in general fertile : these two circles would produce 
 sufficient corn for the consumption of the inhabitants, if immense 
 masses of rocks did not cover so much of the surface, and the 
 elevation above the sea did not produce a temperature unfavour- 
 able to vegetation. The circles of Neustadtl, Adelsberg, and Lay- 
 bach consist of rock, marshes, and sandy flats, and are unfruitful. 
 The coast has a dry limestone soil, and in many parts suffers 
 from a scarcity of water, but the vegetation is very luxuriant. 
 
 The most remarkable lake is that of Zirknitz, in the circle of 
 'Adelsberg, about three miles long, and from one and a half to 
 two and a half wide, of which many wonderful stories are told, all 
 originating in the fact that it is sometimes quite full to the brim, 
 and at others dried up, and this without any regularity or regard 
 to the season of the year ; sometimes it does not dry up for years 
 together. The climate of course varies in different parts. The 
 lofty mountains covered with snow, which either never melts or 
 ^ only in the height of summer, cause the air to be rather sharp 
 and raw in the circles of Villach and Clagenfurt ; the vine does 
 not tlirive here. Though there are some persons afflicted with 
 goitre, the climate is on the whole healthy. It is much milder in 
 the circles of Laybach, Adelsberg, and Neustadtl, where the vine, 
 chestnut, and maize flourish. The government of Trieste has a 
 hot climate ; the vegetation is luxuriant, and the choicest fruit 
 would succeed if the soil were good ; for in the circle of Gorz 
 the mulberry-trees bear the winter very well, as do the olive and 
 the orange in the territory of Trieste : it is to be regretted that 
 there is a deficiency of water. In the western parts on the coast 
 the air is rendered extremely unhealthy by the exhalations from 
 the lagoons. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE II. 
 
 Waterfall at Kirka, Illyria. 
 
 Viola, Captain and Sailors. 
 
 Vio. ' What country, friends, is this ? 
 
 Cap. This is Illyria, lady. 
 
SICILY. 
 
 The Island of Sicily, in the Mediterranean, on the coast of 
 Calabria, has a somewhat picturesque effect when viewed at sea. 
 A succession of mountain groups extend across it, of an altitude 
 of from 3000 to 6000 feet ; besides the volcanic mountain of 
 iEtna, 10,874 feet above the sea. The island contains but few 
 plains, the greater part of the surface consisting of mountains and 
 valleys. The course of ages has stripped nearly all the moun- 
 tains of their ancient forests, but the sides of iEtna are still 
 covered with fine forests of oak, maple, birch, fir, and chestnut. 
 The native wealth of the island is considerable : sulphur is found 
 in abundance ; marble and alabaster of the finest quality, in great 
 quantities ; manna, oil, almonds, and dried fruits, are considerable 
 exports : these, with the wines, exhibit the natural capabilities 
 of the island for a more extended commerce than it at present 
 enjoys. 
 
 The uninhabited island of Lampedosa, towards the coast of 
 Tripoli, belonging to the kingdom of Sicily, is, according to a 
 theory recently broached by the Rev. Mr. Hunter, the scene 
 intended by Shakespeare for *' The Tempest." 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 Sicily. 
 
 Cleomenes and Dion. 
 
 Cleo. The climate's delicate ; the air most sweet ; 
 Fertile the isle ; the temple much surpassing 
 The common praise it bears. 
 
 Dion. I shall report 
 
 For most it caught me, the celestial habits, 
 (Methinks I so should term them,) and the reverence 
 Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice ! 
 How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly 
 It was i' the offering ! 
 
 Cleo, But, of all, the burst 
 
 And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle. 
 Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense. 
 That I was nothing. 
 
 Dion. If the event o' the journey 
 
 Prove as successful to the queen, — O, be 't so ! — 
 As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, 
 The time is worth the use on 't. 
 
 Cleo. Great Apollo, 
 
 Turn all to the best ! These proclamations, 
 So forcing faults upon Hermione, 
 I little like. 
 
 Dion. The violent carriage of it 
 
 Will clear, or end, the business : When the oracle, 
 (Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,) 
 Shall the contents discover, something rare, 
 Even then will rush to knowledge. — Go, — fresh horses 
 And gracious be the issue ! 
 
— V 
 
 in -^ 
 I 
 
BURY ST. EDMUND'S. 
 
 The annals of Bury record the visits of many royal and noble 
 personages, drawn thither by motives of piety, or by the fame 
 and splei^dour of its monastic establishment. Besides these 
 circumstances of local interest, the town and its immediate vicinity 
 have been the theatre of important national events. 
 
 To Bury belongs, if not in a superior, at least in an equal 
 degree with Runimede, the honour of that celebrated charter, by 
 which the rights and liberties of Englishmen are secured. It is 
 not generally known, perhaps, that the foundation of Magna 
 Charta is a charter of Henry I., which had fallen into oblivion as 
 early as the time of king John. A copy of it having fallen into 
 the hands of Stephen Langton, archbishop of Canterbury, was 
 by himcommunicated to the principal nobles of the kingdom, a 
 meeting of whom was convened at Bury to deliberate on the 
 subject. On the 20th of November, 1214, a large body of the 
 English nobility assembled in the abbey church on pretence of 
 devotion, but in reality to enter into a solemn league against the 
 throne. They swore, on the high altar, to wage war against the 
 king, until he should agree to the restoration of their ancient 
 rights and privileges ; and to the perseverance with which their 
 demand was urged, we are indebted for the granting of Magna 
 Charta on the 15th of June in the following year: the king, on 
 his return from Poitou in 1215, met his barons at Bury, and with 
 the utmost solemnity confirmed this celebrated deed; binding 
 himself by a public oath to regulate his administration by the 
 grand principles which it established. 
 
KING JOHN. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE IV. 
 
 The Abbey of St. Edmund's-Bury. 
 
 Melun and English Lords. 
 
 Mel, Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold ; 
 Unthread the rude eye of rebellion. 
 And welcome home again discarded faith. 
 Seek out king John, and fall before his feet ; 
 For, if the French be lords of this loud day. 
 He means to recompense the pains you take, 
 By cutting off your heads : Thus hath he sworn. 
 And I with him, and many more with me, 
 Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury ! 
 Even on that altar, where we swore to you 
 Dear amity and everlasting love. 
 
FLINT CASTLE. 
 
 Flint Castle was most probably built by Edward I., about 
 1280. The remains stand a little to the north-east of the town, 
 on the summit of a rock of freestone. It is a square building, 
 with round towers at three of the comers, and at the fourth a 
 round tower of much larger dimensions, separated by a deep 
 moat from the rest of the building, with which it communicated 
 by a drawbridge. 
 
 This large tower constituted the keep, or donjon of the castle ; 
 and from its situation, and the great thickness of the walls, was 
 almost impregnable. It is supposed that the low-water channel 
 of the Dee once ran close under the castle walls, and there are 
 still in some parts the rings to which ships were moored. 
 
RICHARD II. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE III. 
 
 The Remains of Flint Castle. 
 
 Boling. Noble lord, 
 Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle : 
 Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle 
 Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver. 
 
BANGOR. 
 
 The city of Bangor is situated at the foot of a steep rock in a 
 narrow and fertile valley, near the north entrance of the Menai 
 straits, and the mouth of the river Ogwen. Since the construc- 
 tion of that admirable work of art, the Menai Bridge, Bangor 
 has risen into some importance, its proximity to the sea having 
 given it the advantage of becoming a favourite bathing-place ; 
 and the views of Beaumaris Bay, and the Caernarvon mountains, 
 from Garth point, are of the most picturesque, bold, and sublime 
 character ; the rides and walks around the city are numerous and 
 pleasant. 
 
 Bangor was, in ancient times, a place of considerable note : the 
 name is derived from han^ high or superior, and corrt a society, 
 which means the chief choir. 
 
 About half a mile east of the city are the remains of the 
 Castle, erected by Hugh, earl of Chester, in the reign of 
 William II. 
 
HENRY IV. PART I. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 Bangor. 
 
 Hotspur, Glendower, and others. 
 
 Glend. 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 kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. 
 
 Glend. 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. 
 
 Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble 
 
 Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire, 
 And not in fear of your nativity. 
 Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
 In strange eruptions : oft the teeming earth 
 Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex'd 
 By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
 Within her womb ; which, for enlargement striving, 
 Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down 
 Steeples, and moss-grown towers. At your birth 
 Our grandam earth, having this distemperature, 
 In passion shook. 
 
 i 
 
WARKWORTH CASTLE 
 
 Shakespeare has given an immortal interest to the Castle of Wark- 
 worth by laying part of the scene of his Henry IV. there. * ♦ * 
 
 The Castle stands on a fine commanding hill, with wide and charm- 
 ing views seaward and landward, with the winding banks and hanging 
 woods of the Coquet, a sweet little river which, after almost surround- 
 ing it, falls into the sea at the distance of about a mile. The scenes 
 which lie in prospect are noble, extensive, and varied. Below the 
 Castle clusters the town. At a little distance out at sea, you observe 
 Coquet Isle, with its ruined tower and cell. Northward stretch away 
 the shores, with the Fern Isles and the castles of Bamborough and 
 Dunstanbrough conspicuous ; and southward, villages and woods enrich 
 the wide broad plains, and stud the winding strand and creeks. 
 
 The Castle itself is well worthy of its site. As was justly observed 
 by Grose, nothing can be more magnificent and picturesque, from what 
 part soever it is viewed. There is something peculiarly stately, and 
 of feudal grace about it. The keep, or principal part of the building, 
 stands on the north side, and is elevated on an artificial mound several 
 feet higher than the other parts. It is square, with the angles cut 
 away. Near the middle of each side of this square projects at right 
 angles a turret, its end terminating in a semi-hexagon. These projec- 
 tions are of the same height as the rest of the keep, from the centre of 
 which a lofty exploratory tower arises. There is something very unique 
 and imposing in this arrangement of the building ; and on the front of 
 every tower a bold shield, supported by a knight or angel, is displayed, 
 which adds greatly to this effect. One cannot avoid carrying back 
 the mind to the period when this proud castle was not a ruin, but the 
 chief abode of the great and powerful Percys ; and feel what must have 
 been the impression which it must have made on the mind of the 
 spectator who came with the idea of Percy fame already in his imagina- 
 tion, and saw it standing in its perfect beauty on its stately height, and 
 surrounded by armed retainers. 
 
 The castle and moat, according to an ancient survey, contained nearly 
 six acres of ground. It includes in front of the keep an area of more 
 than an acre, surrounded with walls and towers. These walls are in 
 many places entire, and are thirty-five feet high. The gateway, or 
 principal entrance, was once a stately building, defended by a portcullis, 
 and containing apartments for several oflBcers of the castle ; of which 
 a few only now remain, which are inhabited by the person who has 
 charge of the castle. There were similar towers about the middle of 
 the east and west walls, which are also in ruins. 
 
 W. HOWITT. 
 
HENRY IV. PART II. 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 Warkworth Castle. 
 
 Rumour. 
 
 Rumour. This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns 
 Between the royal field of Shrewsbury 
 And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, 
 Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, 
 Lies crafty-sick : the posts come tiring on, 
 And not a man of them brings other news 
 Than they have learned of me : From Rumour's tongues 
 They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. 
 
a: ^ 
 
SOUTHAMPTON. 
 
 The principal entrance to Southampton on the land side, is hy 
 the large and extremely beautiful Gate, called emphatically the 
 Bar, Its north front is of rather uncommon form, being a sort 
 of semi-octagon, flanked with two lower semicircular turrets, and 
 crowned with large and handsome machicoUations. The arch 
 of entrance is highly pointed, and adorned with a profusion of 
 mouldings, which now end abruptly, a part of the flanks of the 
 arch having been cut away to enlarge the carriage way, which 
 was inconveniently narrow. Above the arch is a row of elegant 
 sunk pannels, alternately square and oblong. In each of the 
 squares is a shield in relief, painted with a coat of arms. These 
 ornaments were added to the Gate after the accession of James I. 
 
 The footways on each side are modem perforations through 
 the old flanking towers, as the brick-work entirely covers the 
 ancient walls ; but, by inspecting the sides of the principal arch, 
 it seems as if there had formerly been arches opening laterally 
 into these towers. The arches and front hitherto described, 
 though probably 450 years old, are modem, when compared with 
 the central part of the Gate, which is of early Norman work, if 
 not more ancient than the Conquest. Its plain and massive 
 round arches, which are considerably wider than the outer pointed 
 one, are a full proof of this. Within this most ancient part, 
 another addition has been made, forming a plain and flat front ; 
 which, though never very handsome, was much injured by an 
 awkward attempt to adom it, at the beginning of the last century. 
 
 The battlements have, however, escaped the ravages of im- 
 provement ; and an ancient alarm bell hangs in a niche formed 
 for it, between two of them. The leads are spacious ; and from 
 these the gradual increase of this noble Gate is easily traced. 
 The original gate was flanked by two semicircular towers, 
 towards the country ; between these, and projecting beyond them, 
 the present beautiful exterior front was added ; the front towards 
 the town appears the most modem of all. The two lions sejant, 
 cast in lead, which now form a respectable guard at the entrance 
 of the Gate, were formerly placed at the extremities of the 
 parapet of a bridge which crossed the ditch before the Gate, and 
 were removed to their present situation when the ditch was filled 
 up, and the bridge demolished. 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 Southampton. 
 
 Chorus. And the scene 
 
 Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton. 
 
I 
 
PALACE OF THE DUKE OF BEDFORD IN ROUEN. 
 
 This building is still in good preservation : it is situated in the 
 Place de la Pucelle, so called from its being the scene of the 
 execution of the celebrated Joan of Arc, to whose memory a 
 monument is erected. This fabric is shown in the engraving. 
 
 Upon the accession of Henry VI., the Duke of Bedford was 
 constituted chief councillor and protector of the king, then an 
 infant, and appointed at the same time Regent of France. But 
 all his splendid achievements in the " land of the Gauls," great, 
 glorious, and gallant as they were, lie for ever obscured beneath 
 one dark deed of inhumanity, — his cruel and savage treatment 
 of the most undaunted of his foes — the enthusiastic Maid of 
 Orleans, Joan of Arc. The Duke died at Rouen, September 14, 
 1435, and was interred in the Cathedral of Notre Dame there, 
 deeply lamented by the English people. 
 
HENRY VI. PART I. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE II. 
 
 Rouen. — Place de la Pucelle. 
 
 Lord Talbot. But yet, before we go, let's not forget 
 The noble duke of Bedford, late deceased. 
 But see his exequies fulfiU'd in Rouen ; 
 A braver soldier never couched lance, 
 A gentler heart did never sway in court : 
 But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die ; 
 For that's the end of human misery. 
 
FUNERAL OF HENRY V. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 Henbt V. died in Paris, August 31, 1422. His nobles and officers 
 resolved to give him a most magnificent funeral ; they caused the body 
 to be embalmed, and carried in great pomp to the cathedral of Notre 
 Dame, where a solemn service was performed. The funeral then 
 proceeded to Rouen, and there it lay in state several days. The coffin 
 was then placed within a car drawn by four splendid horses ; over the 
 coffin, on a bed of crimson and gold, lay a figure representing the king 
 to the life, with a rich crown of gold on the head, a sceptre on the right 
 hand, the globe and cross on the left, and with a face looking heaven- 
 ward. When it passed through any town, a canopy of silk, like to what 
 is carried over the host on Corpus Christi Day, was borne over it. In 
 this state the body was conveyed, by slow journeys, from Rouen to 
 Abbeville, where it was placed in the cathedral of St. Ulfran, with rows 
 of priests on each side of the coffin to chant requiems all through the 
 night. During the slow, sad progress from town to town, the funeral 
 car was preceded and flanked by heralds, persons bearing banners and 
 achievements, and a host of men, all clad in white sheets, and carrying 
 lighted torches in their hands ; it was followed by the royal household, 
 in deep mourning, by some hundreds of knights and esquires in black 
 armour and plumes, with their lances reversed, and by the princes of 
 the blood, and the king of Scotland, who acted as chief mourner. At 
 about a league in the rear of all travelled the youthful widow, with a 
 numerous retinue. The night after leaving Abbeville, they rested at 
 Hesdin, the next night at Montreuil, the next at Boulogne, and then at 
 Calais, where a fleet was in readiness to convey them to Dover. 
 From Dover they travelled by the usual road through Canterbury and 
 Rochester to London, where they arrived on Martinmas Day. As 
 the melancholy procession approached London, fifteen bishops in their 
 pontifical attire, many mitred abbots and churchmen, with a vast mul- 
 titude of persons of all conditions, went out to meet it. The church- 
 men chanted the service for the dead as it passed over London Bridge 
 and through the street of the Lombards to St. Paul's. After the 
 obsequies had been performed at St. Paul's in presence of the whole 
 parliament, the body was carried to Westminster Abbey, and there 
 interred near the shrine of Edward the Confessor. " At this funeral," 
 continues Monstrelet, who wrote some years later, " greater pomp and 
 expense were made than had been done for two hundred years at the 
 burying of any king of England ; and even now, as much reverence 
 arid honour are paid every day to his tomb as if it were certain that 
 he is a saint in heaven." 
 
 PicTOEiAL History of England. 
 
HENRY VI. PART I. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Interior of Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Corpse of King Henry V. lying in state ; attended by the Dukes 
 OF Bedford, Gloucester, and Exeter, ^c. Sfc. 
 
 Bed. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night ! 
 Comets, importing change of times and states. 
 Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky ; 
 And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, 
 That have consented unto Henry's death ! 
 King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long ! 
 England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. 
 
 Glo. England ne'er had a king until his time. 
 Virtue he had, deserving to command : 
 His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams ; 
 His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings : 
 His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire. 
 More dazzled and drove back his enemies. 
 Than mid-day sun, fierce bent against their faces. 
 What should I say ? his deeds exceed all speech : 
 He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered. 
 
 Exe. We mourn in black : Why mourn we not in blood ? 
 Henry is dead, and never shall revive : 
 Upon a wooden coffin we attend ; 
 And death's dishonourable victory 
 We with our stately presence glorify. 
 Like captives bound in a triumphant car. 
 What ? shall we curse the planets of mishap. 
 That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ? 
 Or shall we think the subtle-witted French 
 Conjurors and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, 
 By magic verses have contrived his end ? 
 
INTERIOf-! 0\- WhSTMINSTFH ABBEY 
 
 II N [ R Al 0( M ENHV V 
 
 //r H'.7.s- // /■■.vzv rU-s-d-i nf I /it- lojii- ..'<■ Ian^^\ 
 
ST. ALBAN'S ABBEY. 
 
 Verulam, from the ruins of which St. Alban's derives its origin, 
 was an important British city, of greater antiquity than even 
 London itself. In the year 303, and during the persecution of 
 the Christians commenced by Diocletian, Albanus was put to 
 death, and a few years after the persecution had ceased, a church 
 was founded on the spot in memory of the saint. In his honour 
 a monastery for Benedictine monks was erected in 793 by OfFa, 
 king of Mercia, one of the Saxon kingdoms. The modern town 
 of St. Alban's was founded during the tenth century, by the abbot 
 Ulsinus. The abbey church, which was part of the ancient 
 monastery, was sold by Edward VI., in 1553, to the inhabitants 
 of the town for their parish church. The external appearance 
 of this fabric, when viewed from a distance, is dignified and 
 imposing, but when nearly approached it loses part of its effect, 
 firom the rude mixture of Roman tiles, flints, and bricks, appear- 
 ing in its walls, and which excites a stronger idea of dilapidation 
 than the real state of the building will justify. In the year 
 1832, a part of the south-west wall having fallen, and public 
 attention being called to the state of the building, it led to a 
 subscription for its preservation, and considerable restorations 
 have been made, but the amount subscribed has not been sufficient 
 for perfecting the work. 
 
HENRY VI. PART II. 
 
 ACT II. SCENE I. 
 
 St. Alban's Abbey. 
 
 K. Henry, Q. Margaret, Gloucester, Cardinal and others. 
 
 Q. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook, 
 I saw not better sport these seven years' day : 
 Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high ; 
 And ten to one old Joan had not gone out. 
 
 K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, 
 And what a pitch she flew above the rest ! — 
 To see how God in all his creatures works ! 
 Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. 
 
 Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty, 
 My lord protector's hawks do tower so well ; 
 They know their master loves to be aloft, 
 And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. 
 
 Glo. My lord, 't is but a base ignoble mind 
 That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. 
 
 Car. I thought as much ; he would be above the clouds. 
 
 Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal : How think you by that ? 
 Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven ? 
 
 K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy ! 
 
 Car. Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and thoughts 
 Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart ; 
 Pernicious protector, dangerous peer. 
 That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal ! 
 
 Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory ? 
 Tantcene animis coelestibus irce ? 
 Churchmen so hot ? good uncle, hide such malice ; 
 With such holiness can you do it ? 
 
 Suf. No malice, sir ; no more than well becomes 
 So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer. 
 
 Glo. As who, my lord ? 
 
 Suf. Why, as you, my lord 
 
 An 't like your lordly lord-protectorship. 
 
THE TOWER OF LONDON, WITH THE DEATH 
 OF HENRY VI. 
 
 Henry VI. breathed his last in the Tower, where much of his 
 life had been passed as a pageant of state, and another large 
 portion of it as a prisoner of war. He is generally stated by 
 historians to have died by violence ; and the odium of the bloody 
 deed has chiefly fallen upon Richard duke of Gloucester. The 
 proof of the fact, however, is disproportioned to the atrocity of 
 the accusation. Many temptations and provocations to destroy 
 him had occurred in a secret imprisonment of nearly ten years. 
 It is rather improbable that those who through so many scenes 
 of blood had spared " the meek usurper's hoary head," should, 
 at last, with so small advantage, incur the odium of destroying a 
 prince who seems to have been dear to the people for no other 
 quality but the regular observance of petty superstitions. He was 
 as void of manly as of kingly virtues. No station can be named 
 for which he was fitted but that of a weak and ignorant lay 
 brother in a monastery. Our compassion for the misfortunes of 
 such a person would hardly go beyond the boundary of instinc- 
 tive pity, if an extraordinary provision had not been made by 
 nature to strengthen the social affections. We are so framed to 
 feel as if all harmlessness arose from a pure and gentle mind ; 
 and something of the beauty of intentional goodness is lent to 
 those who only want the power of doing ill. The term innocence 
 is ambiguously employed for impotence and abstinence. A man 
 in a station such as that of a king, which is generally surrounded 
 with power and dignity, is apt to be considered as deliberately 
 abstaining from evil when he inflicts none, although he be really 
 withheld, as in the case of Henry, by an incapacity to do either 
 good or harm. Nature, by an illusion more general and more 
 momentous, benevolently beguiles us into a tenderness for the 
 beings who most need it, inspiring us with the fond imagination 
 that the innocence of children is the beautiful result of mature 
 reason and virtue ; — a sentiment partaking of the same nature 
 with the feelings which dispose the good man to be merciful to 
 his beast. 
 
 Pictorial History of England. 
 
HENRY VI. PART III. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE VI. 
 
 Room in the Tower of London. 
 
 King Henry VI. and Gloucester. 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words ! 
 My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, 
 Than can my ears that tragic history. 
 But wherefore dost thou come ? is 't for my life ? 
 
 Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner ? 
 
 K. Hen, A persecutor, I am sure, thou art ; 
 If murthering innocents be executing. 
 Why, then thou art an executioner. 
 
 Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. 
 
 K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume, 
 Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. 
 And thus I prophesy, — that many a thousand. 
 Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear ; 
 And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, 
 And many an orphan's water-standing eye, — 
 Men for their sons', wives for their husbands'. 
 And orphans for their parents' timeless death, — 
 Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. 
 The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign ; 
 The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ; 
 Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees : 
 The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top. 
 And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
 Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain. 
 And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ; 
 To wit, an indigest deformed lump, 
 Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 
 
 Glo. I'll hear no more : Die, prophet, in thy speech. \_Stdbs him. 
 
ROOM IN THE TOWER 
 
 IN WHICH HENRY VI WAS SLAIN 
 
 ' J)!^. propKec, ui s^ speeoh . 
 ■zest the' rest, irus / ordccLrub. 
 
THE COUNCIL CHAMBER IN THE TOWER OF 
 LONDON. 
 
 In the room called the Council Chamber, which is the largest 
 apartment, and reputed to be the place where councils were 
 assembled when the reigning monarch held his court in the 
 Tower, the roof is sustained by vast beams of timber, disposed 
 in transverse and horizontal frame-work, and supported by two 
 rows of transverse posts. This arrangement has every appearance 
 of high antiquity, and harmonizes exceedingly well with the grand 
 and substantial features of the other parts of the building. The 
 eastern wall is pierced by fine lofty openings with semicircular 
 arches, but without ornament or moulding of any kind, which 
 communicate with the adjoining room : one of these is partly 
 closed with a thin partition, in which is a smaller opening, equally 
 plain, and assimilating in character to the arch over it. It was 
 at a council sitting in this chamber, that, as traditionally affirmed, 
 the Protector Gloucester ordered Lord Hastings to be led to 
 instant execution, and commanded the arrest of the Archbishop 
 of York, the Bishop of Ely, and Lord Stanley. 
 
 Britton and Brayley's Memoirs of the Tower. 
 
KING RICHARD III. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE IV. 
 
 Council Chamber, Tower of London. 
 
 Gloster, Buckingham, Hastings, and other Peers. 
 
 Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve 
 That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
 Of damned witchcraft ; and that have prevail'd 
 Upon my body with their hellish charms ? 
 
 HasU The tender love I bear your grace, my lord 
 Makes me most forward in this princely presence 
 To doom the offenders, whosoe'er they be : 
 I say, my lord, they have deserved death. 
 
 Glo. Then be your eyes the witness of their evil ! 
 Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine arm 
 Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up : 
 And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch. 
 Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, 
 That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. 
 
 Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble lord, — 
 
 Glo. If? thou protector of this damned strumpet, 
 Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? — Thou art a traitor : — 
 Off with his head : — now, by saint Paul I swear 
 I will not dine until 1 see the same. 
 Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done ; 
 The rest that love me, rise, and follow me. 
 
Drurj.- c- C - Sirgf-rt 
 
 EnjIravBdIy J.C Vir-i 
 
 COUNCIL CHAMBER , TOWER OF LONDON 
 
 "Bclwld mrm Ar 
 
* V, 
 
 LEICESTER ABBEY. 
 
 Near the town of Leicester a monastery of Black Canons was 
 founded in 1143, in honour of the Virgin Mary, by Robert le 
 Bossin, earl of Leicester, and called, from its situation in the 
 fields or meadows, Sancta Maria de Pratis, or St. Mary de Prez : 
 it was richly endowed, the revenues at the dissolution amounting 
 to £1062 per annum. Of this great and wealthy establishment, 
 to which, from its being the scene of Cardinal Wolsey's death, 
 considerable interest attaches, a mass of shapeless ruin alone 
 remains. Here the fallen minister of the tyrant Henry VHL 
 died, on the 29th of November, 1530, having been compelled 
 by illness to seek an asylum in the Abbey while travelling as a 
 prisoner to London. 
 

 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 ACT IV. SCENE TI. 
 
 Leicester Abbey. 
 
 Queen Katherine and Griffith. 
 
 Kath. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, 
 That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, 
 Was dead ? 
 
 Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam : 
 For after the stout earl Northumberland 
 Arrested him at York, and brought him forward 
 (As a man sorely tainted) to his answer, 
 He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill, 
 He could not sit his mule. 
 
 Kath, Alas, poor man ! 
 
 Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, 
 Lodged in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot. 
 With all his convent, honourably received him ; 
 To whom he gave these words, — ' O father abbot, 
 An old man, broken with the storms of state. 
 Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
 Give him a little earth for charity ! ' 
 So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness 
 Pursued him still ; and, three nights after this. 
 About the hour of eight, (which he himself 
 Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance. 
 Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows. 
 He gave his honours to the world again, 
 His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 
 
% 
 
TENEDOS. 
 
 We passed the isle of Tenedos, once under the patronage of 
 Apollo, as he gave it in himself in the particulars of his estate 
 when he courted Daphne. It is but ten miles in circuit, but in 
 those days very rich and well-peopled ; still famous for its 
 excellent wine. 
 
 Lady Wortley Montagu. 
 
 Tenedos is a small but fertile island of the ^gean Sea, oppo- 
 site to Troy. It became famous during the Trojan War, as there 
 the Greeks concealed themselves, the more effectually to make 
 the Trojans believe that they were returned home without finish- 
 ing the siege. 
 
 Lempriere. 
 
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 To Tenedos they came ; 
 
 And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge 
 
 Their warlike fraughtage. 
 

 A 
 
 55 
 
TROY. 
 
 x\ll that is now left of Troy is the ground on which it stood ; 
 for I am firmly persuaded whatever pieces of antiquity may be 
 found round it are much more modern, and I think Strabo says 
 the same thing. However, there is some pleasure in seeing the 
 valley where, I imagine, the famous duel of Menelaus and Paris 
 had been fought, and where the greatest city in the world was 
 situated. It is certainly the noblest situation that can be found 
 for the head of a great empire. 
 
 Lady Wortley Montagu. 
 
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE III. 
 
 Troy. 
 
 Troilus and Cressida. 
 
 Tro, O virtuous fight, 
 
 When right with right wars who shall be most right ! 
 True swains in love shall, in the world to come, 
 Approve their truths by Troilus : when their rhymes, 
 Full of protest, of oath, and big compare, 
 Want similes, truth tired with iteration, — 
 As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 
 As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, 
 As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, — 
 Yet, after all comparisons of truth. 
 As truth's authentic author to be cited, 
 As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse. 
 And sanctify the numbers. 
 
 Cres. Prophet may you be ! 
 
 If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth. 
 When time is old and hath forgot itself. 
 When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, 
 And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up. 
 And mighty states characterless are grated 
 To dusty nothing ; yet let memory 
 From false to false, among false maids in love. 
 Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said, as false 
 As air, as water, as wind, as sandy earth, 
 As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
 Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ; 
 Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 
 As false as Cressid. 
 
THE FORUM AT ROME. 
 
 I STOOD in the Roman Forum! — Amidst its silence and desertion, how 
 forcibly did the memory of ages that were fled speak to the soul ! How 
 did every broken pillar and fallen capital tell of former greatness ! The 
 days of its pride and of its patriotism — the long struggles for freedom 
 and for power — the popular tumults — the loud acclamations — the ener- 
 getic harangues — the impassioned eloquence — and all the changeful and 
 chequered events of which it had been the theatre ; joined to the 
 images of the great and the good — the wisest and the best of mankind, 
 who had successively filled this now lonely and silent spot — the lights 
 of ages, whose memory is still worshipped throughout the world, — 
 crowded into my mind, and touched the deepest feelings of my heart. 
 
 The Ionic portico of the Temple of Concord still stands in the 
 Roman Forum. At the sound of its name, the remembrance flashed 
 upon my mind that it was here Cicero accused to the assembled Senate 
 the guilty conspirators leagued with Catiline ; and, entering its grass- 
 grown area, 1 felt, with enthusiasm which brought tears into my eyes, 
 that I now stood on the very spot his feet had then trod. 
 
 As if Time had loved to spare every relic of Cicero, I beheld be- 
 fore me, on the green turf, in lonely grandeur, three of the beautiful 
 columns of that Temple of Jupiter Stator, in which he had previously 
 accused Catiline in person, and compelled him, by the terrors of his 
 eloquence, to abandon his deep-formed but immature designs, and fly 
 into voluntary exile, and open, therefore not dangerous, rebellion. At 
 every period of my life, and long before I ever expected to behold it, 
 whenever the name of the Roman Forum was uttered, the image of 
 Cicero was present to my mind ! and now that I actually stood on the 
 very scene of his glorious exertions and patriotic eloquence, his spirit 
 seemed in every object that met my view. 
 
 I eagerly inquired, Where was the Rostrum ? Not a vestige of it 
 remains— not "a stone to mark the spot" is now to be found ; but its 
 supposed site was pointed out to me on ground now occupied by some 
 old barns or granaries, between the Capitoline and the Palatine Hills. 
 
 " It was there, then," I internally exclaimed, " that the thunders of 
 Cicero's eloquence burst forth to a people yet undegenerated from their 
 ancient fame, and capable of feeling the virtue they inspired ; — it was 
 there, in the latter days, he roused so often the languishing spark of 
 patriotism, — and it was there, at the close of his memorable consulship, 
 upon being commanded by the envious tribune not to speak, but to 
 restrict himself to the oath required of every consul on resigning his 
 office, that, instead of swearing, as usual, that he had faithfully dis- 
 charged his trust, he made the solemn protestation, ' that he had saved 
 the republic and the city from ruin !* while the Roman people who 
 filled the Forum, called the gods to witness its truth, in an adjuration as 
 solemn as his own, and rent the air with shouts of rapturous applause." 
 
 It was there, too, on that very rostrum, where his all-persuasive elo- 
 quence had so often moved the hearts of his fellow-citizens, and made 
 the tyrants tremble, that his head and hands were scornfully affixed, 
 after his inhuman murder, by Mark Anthony, to revenge the writing of 
 the Philippics. 
 
 But the unbought, and then unprostituted title of Pater Patrice^ that 
 he received as the deliverer of his country, far outvalued the crown 
 with which that traitor would have encircled the brows of the tyrant 
 who sought to enslave it. 
 
 Rome in the Nineteenth Centoby. 
 
CORIOLANUS. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE III. 
 
 Cor. Let the Voices 
 
 Plough Rome, and harrow Italy. 
 
APARTMENT IN THE PALACE OF SATURNINUS 
 AT ROME. 
 
 Towards the last years of the republic, the Romans naturalized 
 the arts of Greece among themselves ; and Grecian architecture 
 came into fashion at Rome, as we may learn, among other 
 sources, from the letters of Cicero to Atticus, which bear con- 
 stant testimony to the strong interest which he took in ornament- 
 ing his several houses, and mention Cyrus, his Greek architect. 
 At this time immense fortunes were easily made from the spoils 
 of new conquests, or by peculation and maladministration of 
 subject provinces, and the money thus ill and easily acquired 
 was squandered in the most lavish luxury. One favourite mode 
 of indulgence was in splendour of building. Lucius Cassius was 
 the first who ornamented his house with columns of foreign 
 marble : they were only six in number, and twelve feet high. 
 He was soon surpassed by Scaurus, who placed in his house 
 columns of the black marble called Lucullian, thirty-eight feet 
 high, and of such vast and unusual weight, that the superintendent 
 of sewers, as we are told by Pliny, took security for any injury 
 which might happen to the works under his charge, before they 
 were suffered to be conveyed along the streets. Another prodigal, 
 by name Mamurra, set the example of lining his rooms with slabs 
 of marble. The best estimate, however, of the growth of archi- 
 tectural luxury about this time may be found in what we are 
 told by Pliny, that, in the year of Rome 676, the house of 
 Lepidus was the finest in the city, and thirty-five years later it 
 was not the hundredth. We may mention, as an example of the 
 lavish expenditure of the Romans, that Domitius Ahenobarbus 
 offered for the house of Crassus a sum amounting to near 48,500/., 
 which was refused by the owner. 
 
MANTUA. 
 
 In Mantua, the fame of Virgil is followed by that of Mantegna, 
 of Giulio Romano, and of the military engineers who have been 
 occupied in strengthening its fortifications from the sixteenth 
 century till now. It is a regularly built, but dreary and un- 
 healthy town, on a lake of the Mincio, surrounded by low plains 
 and reedy fens. But its long fortified bridges, and the bastions 
 which surround it, are impressive. The 2000 Jews who form 
 part of its population, have a showy quarter, with elegant shops : 
 several merchants of that nation have excellent picture galleries ; 
 and their schools and houses of industry (instituted in 1 825) are 
 models in their sort. The ancient ducal palace, within the walls, 
 has but wretched ruins of Mantegna's works, and those of Giulio ; 
 and the latter has scarcely left more in his suburban palace of the 
 Te. The Academy of the Fine Arts possesses a curious, but 
 little known, collection of antique statues. Bernardo Tasso is 
 buried in the church of Sant' Egidio, Giulio in San Barnaba, and 
 Mantegna in Sant' Andrea, which is one of the best works of 
 Alberti. 
 
 Spalding's Italy. 
 
ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE I. 
 
 Mantua. 
 
 Romeo. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, 
 My dreams presage some joyful news at hand : 
 My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne ; 
 And, all this day an unaccustomed spirit 
 Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. 
 I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead ; 
 (Strange dream ! that gives a dead man leave to think,) 
 And breathed such life with kisses in my lips. 
 That I revived, and was an emperor. 
 Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd. 
 When but love's shadows are so rich in joy 
 
 Enter Balthasar. 
 
 News from Verona ! — How now, Balthasar ? 
 Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar ? 
 How doth my lady ? Is my father well ? 
 How doth my lady Juliet ? That I ask again ; 
 For nothing can be ill, if she be well. 
 
 Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. 
 Her body sleeps in Capels' monument. 
 And her immortal part with angels lives. 
 I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault. 
 And presently took post to tell it you : 
 O pardon me for bringing these ill news, 
 Since you did leave it for my office, sir. 
 
 Rom. Is it even so ? then I defy you, stars !— 
 Thou know'st my lodging : get me ink and paper, 
 And hire post horses ; I will hence to-night. 
 
i^fli xm Yiir- 
 
ATHENS. 
 
 " The buildings now before us, viewed as they are at the present 
 time, have served, for two thousand years, as models for the most 
 admired fabrics in every civilized country of the world. Having 
 perished here, they survive there. They live in them as their 
 legitimate offspring. Thus the genius which conceived and exe- 
 cuted these magnificent works, while the materials on which it 
 laboured are dissolved, has itself proved immortal. We, therefore, 
 at the present time, having witnessed this fact, have more cogent 
 reasons for admiring the consummate skill which created them, 
 than were possessed by those who saw these structures in their 
 original glory and beauty." 
 
 Wordsworth's Greece. 
 
 The entrance to the Birmingham Railway at the Euston Square 
 terminus, designed by Mr. Hardwick, is on the model of the 
 Market Place at Athens. 
 
 *^ 
 
TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE II. 
 
 Athens. — A Public Place, 
 Servilius and Lucius. 
 
 Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius ? 
 
 Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir. 
 
 Luc. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish myself 
 against such a good time, when I might have shown myself 
 honourable ! How unluckily it happened, that I should purchase 
 the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour ! — 
 Servilius, now before the gods I am not able to do't, the more 
 beast, I say : — I was sending to use lord Timon myself, these 
 gentlemen can witness ; but I would not for the wealth of Athens, 
 I had done 't now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship ; 
 and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I 
 have no power to be kind : — And tell him this from me, I count 
 it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such 
 an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend rae 
 so far, as to use mine own words to him ? 
 
 Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 
 
 Luc. I'll look you out a good turn, Servilius. — 
 

 ATHENS. 
 
 THE TEMPLE OF JUPITER OLYMPIUS, THE ACROPOLIS, AND THK 
 THEATRE OF HADRIAN, RESTORED. 
 
 Ancient of days ! August Athenae ! where, 
 Where are thy men of might ; thy grand in soul ? 
 Gone — glimm'ring through the dream of things that were : 
 First in the race that led to Glory's goal, 
 They won, and pass'd away — is this the whole ? 
 A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour ! 
 The warrior's weapon, and the sophist's stole 
 Are sought in vain, and o'er each mould'ring tower, 
 Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power. 
 
 Here let me sit upon this massy stone. 
 The marble column's yet unshaken base : 
 Here, Son of Saturn ! was thy fa v 'rite throne : 
 Mightiest of many such ! Hence let me trace 
 The latent grandeur of thy dwelHng-place. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 4- 
 
TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE II. 
 
 Athens. 
 
 Apemantus. 
 
 Apem. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way ! 
 They dance ! they are mad women. 
 Like madness is the glory of this life, 
 As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. 
 We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves ; 
 And spend our flatteries, to drink those men 
 Upon whose age we void it up again. 
 With poisonous spite and envy. 
 Who lives that 's not depraved, or depraves ? 
 Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves 
 Of their friends' gift ? 
 
 I should fear those that dance before me now. 
 Would one day stamp upon me : It has been done . 
 Men shut their doors against a setting sun. 
 
ROME. 
 
 Rome, with its sweeping Tiber, vast Campagna, and ancient 
 monuments, " where noble names lie sleeping," even in adversity 
 is grand and imposing. Who can sojourn in Rome, full of superb 
 palaces and modem splendour, with a people of the race of those 
 who conquered and enlightened the world, — who can remember 
 it in after years without mournful, yet pleasing recollections ? 
 Who can forget that Rome was once mistress of the world, that 
 her power was infinite, her dominion extending over all the 
 habitable earth, her grasp reaching from the east unto the west ? 
 Who that has drunk of her fountains and passed through her 
 massive gates, can ever forget the signs of her former greatness ? 
 Her peasants sing around her ruined walls their evening song of 
 her former glory, — 
 
 Roma, Roma, Roma, Non k piu come era prima. 
 
 But, still, it is a city dear and pleasing to all who think and feel. 
 The remembrance of riches or power cannot create this affection. 
 Not Venice, with her floating palaces, nor Florence, with her 
 eastern wealth — not Bassora, Bagdad, Palmyra, Memphis — not 
 all the cities of the East, leave behind that pleasing melancholy 
 which strangers feel in visiting the desolate fields and lonely 
 walls of Rome. 
 
 Bell's Observations on Italy. 
 
JULIUS CyESAR. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE II. 
 
 The Forum. 
 
 Antony and Citizens. 
 
 Ant. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal 
 To every Roman citizen he gives, 
 To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. 
 
 ******* 
 Moreover, he hath left you all his walks. 
 His private arbours, and new-planted orchards. 
 On this side Tiber ; he hath left them you, 
 And to your heirs for ever*; common pleasures. 
 To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. 
 Here was a Caesar ! When comes such another ? 
 
5 g 
 o ^ 
 
DUNSINANE. 
 
 At Dunsinane near Perth are the remains of an old castle, called 
 Macbeth's Castle, now a total ruin. From Dunsinane Hill, though 
 not of great height, there is one of the most commanding pros- 
 pects ; it overlooks 50 miles in any direction. It is supposed that 
 the immortal Poet might have visited the spot, and from it viewed 
 the different places where the great events he describes are said to 
 have taken place : there is a tradition that the hill was the abode 
 of two famous witches. 
 
 Bimam Hill, near Dunkeld, rises in rude magnificence from the 
 edge of the river Tayi 
 
MACBETH. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE VII. 
 
 DUNSINANE. 
 
 MAlcolm and Siward. 
 
 Siw. This way, my lord ; — the castle's gently rendered ; 
 The tyrant's people on both sides do fight ; 
 The noble thanes do bravely in the war ; 
 The day almost itself professes yours, 
 And little is to do. 
 
 Mai. We have met with foes 
 
 That strike beside us. 
 
ELSINORE. 
 
 Walking upon the battlements of the castle of Elsinore, one has 
 the same kind of instinctive expectation of seeing the ghost of 
 the murdered king as we have of meeting Don Quixote and his 
 squire while travelling in the Sierra Morena ; and, indeed, in this 
 ancient Danish fortress there is no lack of such gloomy passages 
 as a ghost might be supposed to issue from. 
 
 It was nearly seven in the evening when I stepped upon Danish 
 ground ; and having deposited my portmanteau in an inn, and 
 ordered supper, I walked up to the castle, I may say, without any 
 affectation, thinking all the way of Hamlet and Ophelia, and the 
 murdered king. If it had been three or four hours later, I should 
 doubtless have looked towards the gloomy archways with almost 
 an expectation of seeing the ghost of the murdered monarch, but 
 it still wanted a little while to sunset. I lingered on the ramparts 
 until the sun went down, when, at short intervals, two or three 
 guns from the vessels broke upon the stillness, sending a hollow 
 sound booming over the trembling water. Soon the landscape 
 began to fade away, and every sound to cease, except only the 
 occasional splash of an oar ; and I left the rampart to seek some 
 one to conduct me to Hamlet's Garden. The sentinel to whom 
 I addressed myself laid aside his musket, and conducted me to the 
 enclosure, where tradition has laid the deed to which we are 
 indebted for our favourite tragedy. There was nothing to see, 
 however, excepting what was pictured in the " mind's eye ; " and 
 after a few moments' silence, I left the castle and its precincts for 
 the town, where I soon enjoyed the realities of a comfortable 
 supper and its accompaniments. 
 
 Inglis's Solitary Walks. 
 
HAMLET. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Elsinore. 
 
 Horatio and Marcellus. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis gone ! 
 We do it wrong, being so majestical, 
 To offer it the show of violence ; 
 For it is, as the air, invulnerable, 
 And our vain blows malicious mockery. 
 
 Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. 
 
 Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing 
 Upon a fearful summons. I have heard. 
 The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn. 
 Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat 
 Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning, 
 Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 
 The extravagant and erring spirit hies 
 To his confine : and of the truth herein 
 This present object made probation. 
 
 Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
 Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated. 
 The bird of dawning singeth all night long : 
 And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad ; 
 The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike. 
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm. 
 So hallowed, and so gracious is the time. 
 
 Hor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. 
 But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, 
 Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill : 
 Break we our watch up ; and, by my advice, 
 Let us impart what we have seen to-night 
 Unto young Hamlet ; for, upon my life. 
 This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. 
 
SHAKESPEARE CLIFF, DOVER. 
 
 On the west side of the town of Dover, and nearly opposite the 
 castle, is the cliff described in the tragedy of King Lear. The 
 height is somewhere about 350 feet, and, as shown in the print, 
 almost perpendicular. Sir Walter Scott, when at Dover in 1815 
 on his road to Paris, speaking of this cliff, said, " Shakespeare 
 was a lowland man, and I am a highland man ; it is therefore 
 natural that he should make much more of this cliff than I can 
 do, who live among the black mountains of Scotland. The fact 
 is, the cliff is remarkable for its form, but is by no means so 
 awful or majestic as might be supposed after reading King 
 Lear." 
 
KING LEAR. 
 
 ACT IV. SCENE VI. 
 
 Shakespeare Cliff, Dover. 
 
 Edgar. Here 's the place ! stand still. — How fearful 
 And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low ! 
 The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, 
 Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down 
 Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade ! 
 Methinks he seems no bigger than his head : 
 The fishermen, that walk upon the beach. 
 Appear like mice ; and yon' tall anchoring bark, 
 Diminish'd to her cock ; her cock, a buoy 
 Almost too small for sight : the murmuring surge, 
 That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes. 
 Cannot be heard so high. 
 
 From the dread summit of this chalky bourn : 
 Look up a-height ; — the shrill-gorged lark so far 
 Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up. 
 
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THE ISLAND OF CYPRUS. 
 
 Cyprus, a large island in the Mediterranean, off the coast of Asia 
 Minor. It had often changed masters, and was in the possession of the 
 republic of Venice for about a century. 
 
 Richard the First of England took it in 1191, and sold it to the 
 Knights Templars, whose tyranny drove the natives to revolt, on 
 which occasion Richard resumed the sovereignty, and gave it to Guy 
 Lusignan, whose descendants remained sovereigns of it for three cen- 
 turies. John III., dying in 1458, left the crown to his only legitimate 
 child Charlotte, who married her cousin Louis, a son of the Duke of 
 Savoy : she, however, was expelled by her natural brother James. 
 The new king had been attached from early youth to Catarina, niece 
 of Andrea Cornaro, a Venetian noble, resident on his Cypriote estate ; 
 and no sooner was he freed from certain political and domestic obsta- 
 cles, than he tendered his hand to that lady. In order to satisfy the 
 rigid law which forbade the marriage of any Venetian of noble birth 
 with a foreigner, the destined royal bride was solemnly adopted by the 
 state, and declared a daughter of St. Mark ; she was then married by 
 proxy, in the presence of the Doge and Signory, conducted by the 
 Bucentaur to the galley which awaited her in the port, and escorted 
 by a squadron of ships of war, with becoming pomp and a portion of 
 100,000 ducats, to the territories of her husband. 
 
 The Venetian Government, doubtless, foresaw numerous advantages 
 likely to arise from this connexion, but they could scarcely calculate 
 upon the splendid prize which it was finally to place within their grasp. 
 It was no small gain to open freely to their commerce an island, which, 
 after Sicily and Sardinia, ranked as the largest in the Mediterranean ; 
 whose delicious climate and fertile soil produced wine, oil, and grain in 
 profusion ; the rkhness of whose mines of copper was announced by 
 its very name ; and whose position, with regard to Syria, Egypt, and 
 Asia Minor, offered unequalled facilities for the profitable intermediate 
 traflfic between Europe and the East. Giacopo Lusignano, after his 
 marriage, cultivated intimate relations with the Republic of which he 
 became the son-in-law ; he assisted her in the Turkish war, and his 
 ports were always thronged by her vessels. James died in 1473, and 
 his wife was soon after delivered of a son, of whom the republic of 
 Venice assumed the guardianship, and sent troops to garrison the 
 island. The child dying while an infant, Catherine abdicated the 
 sovereignty in favour of the republic. The Venetians retained the 
 island until 1571. when it was taken by siege by the Turks, who have 
 since remained in possession of it. 
 
OTHELLO. 
 
 ACT 11. SCENE I. 
 
 Cyprus. 
 
 Othello, Come ; let us to the castle. — 
 
 News, friends ; our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd. 
 How does my old acquaintance of this isle ? 
 Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus, 
 I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, 
 I prattle out of fashion, and I dote 
 In mine own comforts. — I prithee, good lago, 
 Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers : 
 Bring thou the master to the citadel ; 
 He is a good one, and his worthiness 
 Does challenge much respect. — Come, Desdemona, 
 Once more well met at Cyprus. 
 
PALACE OF CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Thebes, called also Diospolis, the city of Jupiter or of Ammon, 
 was in the days of Homer regarded as the great wonder of the 
 world, and it continues to be so at the present day. The entire 
 breadth of the valley on both sidfs of the river, an area of 
 about nine miles, is covered with enormous temples, that seem 
 more like mountains than human edifices, with colossal statues, 
 sphinxes, and obelisks, whose magnitude ensures their duration. 
 Where the habitations of the living end, the dwellings of the 
 dead begin, and extend a considerable distance into the western 
 mountains. The city was built on both sides of the river, which 
 is here about half a mile wide, and its parts were not, as far as 
 we know, connected by a bridge. The western bank, being 
 almost wholly occupied by public monuments, could not have 
 contained many private houses ; but on the eastern bank the 
 monuments are all close to the river, and the space between 
 them and the Arabian mountains was open for habitations. On 
 the western side are the palace and temple now called Medinet 
 Abu, the colossus of Memnon, the palace and tomb of Osy- 
 mandyas, and the temple of Gumu. These are all covered with 
 a profusion of sculptures, depicting scenes in Egyptian history. 
 It has been calculated that the largest of the colossal statues, 
 when complete, weighed more than eight hundred tons. 
 
 Dr. W. C. Tayloe. 
 
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 
 
 ACT III. SCENE III, 
 
 A Room in the Palace^ — Alexandria. 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Madam, in Rome 
 
 I look'd her in the face ; and saw her led 
 Between her brother and Mark Antony. 
 
 Cleo. Is she as tall as me ? 
 
 Mess. She is not, madam. 
 
 Cleo. Didst hear her speak ? Is she shrill- tongued, or low ? 
 
 Mess. Madam, I heard her speak ; she is low- voiced. 
 
 Cleo. That 's not so good ; — he cannot like her long. 
 
 Char. Like her ? O Isis ! 't is impossible. 
 
 Cleo. I think so, Charmian : Dull of tongue, and dwarfish I — 
 What majesty is in her gait ? Remember, 
 If e'er thou look'dst on majesty. 
 
 Mess. She creeps : 
 
 Her motion and her station are as one : 
 She shows a body rather than a life ; 
 A statue, than a breather. 
 
 Cleo. Is this certain ? 
 
 Mess. Or I have no observance. 
 
 Char. Three in Egypt 
 
 Cannot make better note. 
 
 Cleo. He *s very knowing, 
 
 I do perceiv 't : — There 's nothing in her yet : — 
 The fellow has good judgment. 
 
AN APARTMENT IN THE PALACE OF THE 
 C^SARS. 
 
 The memorable conflagration, in the time of Nero, reduced two- 
 thirds of the city to ashes. The catastrophe has been attributed, 
 with much appearance of probability, to that odious tyrant him- 
 self ; and though nothing can be said to palliate an act of such 
 wanton atrocity, it must be yet admitted, that he did all in his 
 power to repair the mischief he had created ; and that Rome 
 owed her subsequent splendour to that calamity. The town was 
 afterwards erected on a more extended and regular plan; the 
 streets were widened ; the height of the houses was limited to 70 
 feet ; and regulations were made which ensured a certain degree 
 of elegance in their construction. From this period, indeed, may 
 be dated that taste of decoration, and vastness of design, in both 
 private and public buildings, which has continued to excite the 
 wonder and admiration of succeeding ages. 
 
 Nero himself led the way to these improvements by rebuilding 
 a great portion of what had been destroyed ; and by the erection 
 of a palace of such extraordinary extent and magnificence, that 
 were not the descriptions of it which have been transmitted to us, 
 too well authenticated to admit of doubt, they would be received 
 rather as the fictions of an eastern tale than as the records of a 
 fact. The enclosure extended from the Palatine to the Esquiline 
 Mount, which was more than a mile in breadth ; and it was 
 entirely surrounded with a spacious portico, embellished with a 
 profusion of sculpture and statuary, among which stood a colossal 
 statue of Nero himself, 120 feet in height. The gardens con- 
 tained every variety of hill and dale, wood and water, inter- 
 spersed with temples and pleasure houses ; and the baths were 
 supplied from a great distance with sea and mineral waters. 
 The apartments were lined with marble, enriched with jasper, 
 topaz, and other precious gems ; the timber works and ceilings 
 were inlaid with gold, ivory, and mother-of-pearl ; and the 
 resplendent elegance of its furniture and decorations procured for 
 it the appellation of the Golden House. 
 
 Domestic Manners of the Romans. 
 
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, 
 
 ACT I. SCENE IV, 
 
 Rome. — An Apartment in Caesar's House, 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Lep. Here's more news. 
 
 Mess. Thy biddings have been done ; and every hour, 
 Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report 
 How 't is abroad. Pompey is strong at sea ; 
 And it appears he is beloved of those 
 That only have fear'd Caesar : to the ports 
 The discontents repair, and men's reports 
 Give him much wrong'd. 
 
 Cces. I should have known no less : — 
 
 It hath been taught us from the primal state, 
 That he which is was wish'd, until he were : 
 And the ebb'd man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love. 
 Comes fear'd by being lack'd. This common body. 
 Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream. 
 Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide. 
 To rot itself with motion. 
 
 Mess. Caesar, I bring thee word, 
 
 Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, 
 Make the sea serve them : which they ear and wound 
 With keels of every kind : Many hot inroads 
 They make in Italy ; the borders maritime 
 Lack blood to think on 't, and flush youth revolt : 
 No vessel can peep forth but 't is as soon 
 Taken as seen ; for Pompey's name strikes more 
 Than could his war resisted. 
 
nrsrwn by (>. F. Sar^>?a' 
 
 avcd by John Wooda. 
 
 APARTMhNi IN C/tSAKS PALACE 
 
ROOM IN A ROMAN HOUSE. 
 
 The Town Houses of persons of moderate fortune appear to have 
 been enclosed within a court, called the vestibule, which was ornamented 
 towards the street with a portico extending along the entire front. The 
 entrance was by a flight of steps, through a folding gate of carved wood, 
 or not unfrequently of brass, which led to the Atrium, or hall : this was 
 a spacious oblong square, surrounded by galleries supported on pillars, 
 and seems to have been the common sitting-room of the family. In 
 ancient times, it was, indeed, the only public apartment for all domestic 
 purposes ; and it was therethattheoccupationsof spinning and weaving, 
 which formed so material a part of the accomplishments of a Roman 
 matron, were carried on by the female slaves under her inspection. But 
 at a later period it was solely appropriated, by families of the middle 
 order, to the more refined uses of society, and was divided into different 
 apartments by means of ample curtains ; while in those of higher rank, 
 it served merely as an antechamber to suites of spacious reception rooms. 
 There were other apartments for supper, and for general accommoda- 
 tion ; and separate bed-rooms for night, and for the repose in which the 
 Romans were accustomed to indulge in the middle of the day. 
 
 The atrium contained a hearth, on which a fire was kept constantly 
 burning, and around which were ranged the Lares, or images of the 
 ancestors of the family. These were nothing more than waxen busts, and, 
 though held in great respect, were not treated with the same veneration 
 as the Penates, or household gods, which were considered of divine 
 origin, and were never exposed to the view of strangers, but were kept 
 in an inner apartment, called the Penetralia, where they were worshipped 
 according to the peculiar rites of the family of whose adoration they were 
 the objects. The Lares, however, participated in the homage paid to the 
 Penates, and the ceremonies appropriated to both constituted what was 
 termed the domestic worship. 
 
 The Romans were ignorant of the use of chimneys, and were, conse- 
 quently, not a little annoyed by smoke, in those houses in which the 
 atrium was occupied by the family. Various expedients were resorted 
 to in order to diminish the nuisance : one of which was to anoint the 
 wood, of which their fuel was composed, with the lees of oil. The mild- 
 ness of the climate precluded the general use of fires in the private 
 apartments ; and when artificial warmth was required, it was afforded by 
 means of a portable furnace, which, probably, was merely a deep brass 
 pan, containing live embers ; a custom which prevails at the present day 
 in many parts of the southern continent of Europe. In great houses, 
 a mode was afterwards introduced of heating the rooms by flues from a 
 stove placed below them. 
 
 Domestic Manners of the Romans. 
 
CYMBELINE. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE V. 
 
 Rome. — Room in Philario's House. 
 
 Post, I will wage against your gold, gold to it : my ring I 
 hold dear as my finger ; 'tis part of it. 
 
 lach. You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy 
 ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from taint- 
 ing : But, I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. 
 
 Post. This is but a custom in your tongue ; you bear a graver 
 purpose, I hope. 
 
 lach. I am the master of my speeches ; and would undergo 
 what's spoken, I swear. 
 
 Post. Will you ? — I shall but lend my diamond till your 
 return : — Let there be covenants drawn between us : My mistress 
 exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking : I 
 dare you to this match : here's my ring. 
 
 Phi. I will have it no lay. 
 
 lach. By the gods it is one : — If I bring you no sufficient 
 testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your 
 mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours ; so is your diamond 
 too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have 
 trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours : — 
 provided I have your commendation for my more free entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 Post. 1 embrace these conditions ; let us have articles betwixt 
 us : only, thus far you shall answer. If you make your voyage 
 upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, 
 I am no further your enemy : she is not worth our debate. If she 
 remain unseduced, (you not making it appear otherwise,) for your 
 ill opinion, and the assault you have made to her chastity, you 
 shall answer me with your sword. 
 
 lach. Your hand ; a covenant : We will have these things set 
 down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain ; lest the 
 bargain should catch cold, and starve. I will fetch my gold, and 
 have our two wagers recorded. 
 
 Post. Agreed. 
 
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 APARTMENT IN A ROMAN PALACE . 
 
THE STOCK ROCK, MILFORD HAVEN. 
 
 On the sea shore of Milford there are rocks of wild and romantic 
 appearance, in particular the one the artist has depicted : at Tenby, 
 also, are some insulated at high water ; one called the Island of 
 St. Catherine has been perforated by the action of the tides. 
 
 Though Milford Haven forms an object of great interest, re- 
 garding merely its picturesque attractions, its vast expanse of 
 water, and the delightful scenery that in many parts ornaments its 
 shores, yet it has excited most attention, perhaps, from the pur- 
 poses of more substantial utility, which, in a national point of 
 view, it has been thought adapted to answer. It is justly deemed 
 the finest harbour in the kingdom, being sufficiently capacious and 
 well sheltered to hold all the navy of England in perfect security ; 
 but objections have been raised against it as a naval station from 
 the position and form of its entrance from the sea, which, in the 
 opinion of some naval men, are such as to render it impracticable 
 for ships to sail outwards in certain states of the wind. Its im- 
 portance to the shipping interests, and consequently to the com- 
 merce of the country, is, however, daily rising in the public 
 estimation. 
 
CYMBELINE. 
 
 ACT IV. SCENE II. 
 
 MiLFORD Haven. 
 Arviragus. 
 
 Arv. With fairest flowers, 
 
 Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
 I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack 
 The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
 The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor 
 The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
 Out-sweeten'd not thy breath : the ruddock would, 
 With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming 
 Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie 
 Without a monument !) bring thee all this ; 
 Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, 
 To wiiiter-ground thy corse. 
 
I 
 
REMAINS OF THE PALACE OF ANTIOCH. 
 
 Antioch, the capital of Syria, was built by Seleucus Nicator, 
 who erected into an independent monarchy the dominions con- 
 quered by Alexander in Western Asia, and who named it after 
 his father Antiochus. It then became the seat of this new empire, 
 and as such, as well as from its commodious and central situa- 
 tion, it grew to be one of the largest and most important cities 
 in the world ; nor does it appear that it declined, but rather that 
 it increased, when it became the capital of the Roman provinces 
 in Asia. It ranked third, after Rome and Alexandria, among 
 the cities of the empire. 
 
 Strabo's account of the city may be taken to represent it as it 
 appeared at the time when the believers in Christ received the 
 name of Christians first at Antioch, and when it received repeated 
 visits from the ardent Apostle of the Gentiles. It then consisted 
 of four distinct quarters, each having a wall of its own, and the 
 whole inclosed by a common wall. These quarters marked the 
 successive additions which the city received from the time of 
 Seleucus, the founder, to that of Antiochus Epiphanes. He 
 adds, that the town was little inferior in extent to Seleucia on 
 the Tigris, and Alexandria in Egypt. Several of the Roman 
 emperors were fond of spending their time at Antioch, as, be- 
 sides the recommendations of its genial and salubrious climate, 
 it abounded in all the conveniences, luxuries, and pleasures of 
 life ; the city being also renowned for its frequent festivals, and 
 for the passion of its inhabitants for the games of the circus and 
 the amusements of the theatre. 
 
PERICLES. 
 
 Remains of the Palace of Antiocu. 
 
 Gower. This city then, Antioch the Great 
 Built up for his chiefest seat, 
 The fairest in all Syria. 
 
u- 5 
 
 
RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
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