The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

38 TTWAVERLEY NOVELS.
She put her handkerchief to her eyes, but she could not hide her sobs,
nor conceal the distress they intimated. The old man was moved.
"I cannot tell," he said, "what to think of it. Thou seem'st sincere,
and wert ever a good and kindly daughter -how thou hast let that rebel
youth creep into thy heart I wot not; perhaps it is a punishment on me,
who thought the loyalty of my house was like undefiled ermine. Yet here
is a damned spot, and on the fairest gem of all-my own dear Alice. But
do not weep -we have enough to vex us. Where is it that Shakspearo
hath it:-'Gentle daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs;
Put you not on the temper of the times,
Nor be, like them, to Percy troublesome.'"
"I am glad," answered the young lady, "to hear you quote your favourite
again, sir. Our little jars are ever wellnigh ended when Shakspeare comes
in play."
"His book was the closet-companion of my blessed master," said Sir
Henry Lee; "after the Bible, (with reverence for naming them together,)
he felt more comfort in it than in any other; and as I have shared his disease, why, it is natural I should take his medicine. Albeit, I pretend not
to my master's art in explaining the dark passages; for I am but a rude
man, and rustically brought up to arms and hunting."
" You have seen Shakspeare yourself, sir?" said the young lady.
" Silly wench," replied the knight, " he died when I was a mere child —
thou hast heard me say so twenty times; but thou wouldst lead the old man
away fiom the tender subject. Well, though I am not blind, I can shut my
eyes and follow. Ben Jonson I knew, and could tell thee many a tale of
our meetings at the Mermaid, where, if there was much wine, there was
much wit also. We did not sit blowing tobacco in each other's faces, and
turning up the whites of our eyes as we turned up the bottom of the winepot. Old Ben adopted me as one of his sons in the muses. I have shown
you, have I not, the verses,' To my much beloved son, the worshipful Sir
Henry Lee of Ditchley, Knight and Baronet?'"
" I do not remember them at present, sir," replied Alice.
" I fear ye lie, wench," said her father; " but no matter-thou canst not
get any more fooling out of me just now. The Evil Spirit hath left Saul
for the present. We are now to think what is to be done about leaving
Woodstock-or defending it?"
" My dearest father," said Alice, " can you still nourish a moment's hope
of making good the place?"
" I know not, wench," replied Sir Henry; " I would fain have a parting
blow with them,'tis certain-and who knows where a blessing may alight?
But then, my poor knaves that must take part with me in so hopeless a
quarrel-that thought hampers me I confess."
"Oh, let it do so, sir," replied Alice; " there are soldiers in the town, and
there are three regiments at Oxford!"
"Ah, poor Oxford!" exclaimed Sir Henry, whose vacillating state of
mind was turned by a word to any new subject that was suggested,-" Seat
of learning and loyalty! these rude soldiers are unfit inmates for thy
learned halls and poetical bowers; but thy pure and brilliant lamp shall
defy the foul breath of a thousand churls, were they to blow at it like
Boreas. The burning bush shall not be consumed, even by the heat of
this persecution."
" True, sir," said Alice, " and it may not be useless to recollect, that any
stirring of the royalists at this unpropitious moment will make'them deal
yet more harshly with the University, which they consider as being at the
bottom of every thing which moves for the King in these parts."
"It is true, wench," replied the knight; "and small cause would make