“Now, fair befall thee!” replied Sir Walter, with a merry smile; “but thy love for worthy Will Shakspear, an’ it go on at this length, will one day turn thy head, and thou shalt finally sink into an absolute player. But, what news? what news, I prithee?”
“News?” cried his companion. “News that will make thy heart glad, renowned knight! Sweet Will Shakspear—”
“By my lady’s hand,” exclaimed Sir Walter, laughing, “I would have wagered my good steed against an old wife’s thimble, which to me were as nothing, that the sum and burthen of thy news would be only Will Shakspear! But let us hear it—let us hear it, my trusty Southampton; for, after all, what concerns Will, concerns the whole world.”
“Now, do I love thee for those words!” cried the young nobleman, his cheeks mantling with a flush of pleasure. “But, to tell thee my news, renowned knight! Thou must know, first, that Master Shakspear will this day bring out a new play, at his noble playhouse of the Globe; and, secondly, that the Queen’s Highness, on my special petition, purposes to grace the performance with her royal presence.”
“That is right welcome news, indeed,” answered Sir Walter; “but tell me, I prithee, what is the theme and burthen of the play?”
“An admirable good theme,” replied the Earl of Southampton: “no other, indeed, than the most pathetic history of Imogen, which was first made known to the world by old Boccaccio, in his right famous Decameron.”
“I mind the story well,” observed Sir Walter, “and, in good sooth, ’tis a marvellous excellent one. But see! yonder is Master Harrington, an’ I be not mistaken.”
“Faith, is it!” answered the Earl. “Let us on.”
Without more ado, they spurred forward, and soon came up with the individual who, at the distance of some hundred yards, had attracted their attention. When they first distinguished him, he was standing at the palace gate; but, hearing the clatter of their horses’ hoofs, he turned round, and observed them approaching. As they drew nigh, he advanced a few paces to meet them; and with the air of a courtier, which his elegant apparel, and youthful and engaging features, well supported, exchanged with them a cordial and friendly greeting. Sir Walter and the Earl then alighted; and, resigning their steeds to the care of their grooms, who had ridden up to receive them, took Master Harrington by the arm, and thus passed together into the palace.
As they entered the palace-hall, they encountered a large circle of courtiers, with most of whom, if one might form a conjecture from their polite greetings, they appeared to be on the footing of friends. With some, however, they exchanged only a formal bow, and evidently sought to avoid acquaintance. They were about to press forward to the great staircase, when the entrance of another cavalier, who seemed to be an object of general respect, led them to prolong their pause. He was an elderly man—indeed, an old one; and his habits, which were grave and homely, corresponded with his advanced years. There was, however, no trace of slovenliness in his appearance, and his deportment was still noble and dignified. A smile rose to his lips as he discovered Sir Walter Raleigh; and with more of the gait of a soldier, than the light air of a courtier, which ruled the movements of those around, he advanced to salute him.