Oh! then I see Queen Mab has been with you.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

The subject on which the mind has last been engaged at night is apt to occupy our thoughts even during slumber, when Imagination, uncorrected by the organs of sense, weaves her own fantastic web out of whatever ideas rise at random in the sleeper. It is not surprising, therefore, that De Lacy in his dreams had some confused idea of being identified with the unlucky Mark of Cornwall; and that he awakened from such unpleasant visions with a brow more clouded than when he was preparing for his couch on the evening before. He was silent, and seemed lost in thought, while his squire assisted at his levee with the respect now only paid to sovereigns. “Guarine,” at length he said, “know you the stout Fleming, who was said to have borne him so well at the siege of the Garde Doloureuse?— a tall, big, brawny man.”

“Surely, my lord,” answered his squire; “I know Wilkin Flammock — I saw him but yesterday.”

“Indeed!” replied the Constable —“Here, meanest thou?— In this city of Gloucester?”

“Assuredly, my good lord. He came hither partly about his merchandise, partly, I think, to see his daughter Rose, who is in attendance on the gracious young Lady Eveline.”

“He is a stout soldier, is he not?”

“Like most of his kind — a rampart to a castle, but rubbish in the field,” said the Norman squire.

“Faithful, also, is he not?” continued the Constable.

“Faithful as most Flemings, while you can pay for their faith,” replied Guarine, wondering a little at the unusual interest taken in one whom he esteemed a being of an inferior order; when, after some farther inquiries, the Constable ordered the Fleming’s attendance to be presently commanded.

Other business of the morning now occurred, (for his speedy departure required many arrangements to be hastily adopted,) when, as the Constable was giving audience to several officers of his troops, the bulky figure of Wilkin Flammock was seen at the entrance of the pavilion, in jerkin of white cloth, and having only a knife by his side.

“Leave the tent, my masters,” said De Lacy, “but continue in attendance in the neighbourhood; for here comes one I must speak to in private.” The officers withdrew, and the Constable and Fleming were left alone. “You are Wilkin Mammock, who fought well against the Welsh at the Garde Doloureuse?”

“I did my best, my lord,” answered Wilkin —“I was bound to it by my bargain; and I hope ever to act like a man of credit.”

“Methinks” said the Constable, “that you, so stout of limb, and, as I hear, so bold in spirit, might look a little higher than this weaving trade of thine.”

“No one is reluctant to mend his station, my lord,” said Wilkin; “yet I am so far from complaining of mine, that I would willingly consent it should never be better, on condition I could be assured it were never worse.”