Some little memory of me will stir him, Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Crom. O my Lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego Cromwell, Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries, but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the womanLet's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard, say then I taught thee-Say, Wolsey, that once rode the waves of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in: A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. Mark but my fall, and that which ruined me: Cromwell I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, Though the image of his maker hope to win by't? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that wait thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not, Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy Country's, Thy God's, and Truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the kingAnd prithee lead me in There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny-'tis the king's. My robe, I dare now call my own. o Cromwell, Cromwell, I served my king, he would not in mine age Wol. So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! My hopes in Heaven do dwell. CLARENCE'S DREAM. SHAKSPEARE. Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily today? Clarence. O, I have passed a miserable night, Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me. Clar. Methought that I had broken from the tower, And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, And in my company my brother Gloucester, Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward Eng land, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befallen us. As we passed along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling Lord, Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown! All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's sculls; and in those holes Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, The first that there did greet my stranger-soul, Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done those things But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, O spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children! I My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. Interview between Waverly and Fergus Mac-Ivor, at Carlisle, previous to the execution of the latter. WAVERLY, After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverly on the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle castle. But he paced it long in every direction, before the hour when, according to the rules of the garrison, the gates were opened, and the drawbridge lowered. He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted. The place of Fergus' confinement was a gloomy and vaulted apartment in the central part of the castle; a huge old tower, supposed to be of great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks, seemingly of Henry VIII's time, or somewhat later. The grating of the huge old-fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was answered by the clash of chains, as the unfortunate chieftain, strongly and heavily fettered, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison, to fling himself into his friend's arms. "My dear Edward," he said, in a firm and even cheerful voice, "this is truly kind. I heard of your approaching happiness with the highest pleasure; and how does Rose? and how is our old whimsical friend the Baron? Well, I am sure, from your looksand how will you settle precedence between the three ermines passant, and the bear and boot-jack?” "How, O how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such a moment?". "Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure-on the 16th of November last, for example, when we marched in, side by side, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers. But I am no boy, to sit “ me. down and weep because the luck has gone against I knew the stake which I risked; we played the game boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid manfully. "You are rich," he continued, "Waverly, and you are generous; when you hear of these poor MacIvors being distressed about their miserable possessions by some harsh overseer or agent of government, remember you have worn their tartan, and are an adopted son of their race. The Baron, who knows our manners, and lives near our country, will apprize you of the time and means to be their protector. Will you promise this to the last Vich Ian Vohr?"-Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which afterwards he so amply redeemed, that his memory still lives in these glens by the name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor.-" Would to God," continued the chieftain, "I could bequeath to you my rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave race: or at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan to accept of his life upon their terms; and be to you what he has been to me, the kindest-the bravest-the most devoted-" The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fell fast for that of his foster-brother. 66 But," said he, drying them, "that cannot be. You cannot be to them Vich Ian Vohr; and these three magic words," said he, half smiling, "are the only Open Sesame to their feelings and sympathies; and poor Evan must attend his foster-brother in death, as he has done through his whole life."-" And I am sure," said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor, on which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had lain so still, that, in the obscurity of the apartment, Edward was not aware of his presence,-"I am sure Evan never desired nor deserved a better end than just to die with his chieftain." A tap at the door now announced the arrival of the priest; and Edward retired while he administered to both prisoners the last rites of religion, in |