Keeps her bed, does she?
"My dog and I we have a trick To visit maids when they are sick; When they are sick and like to die, Oh, thither do come my dog and I.
"And when I die, as needs must hap, Then bury me under the good ale tap; With folded arms there let me lie Cheek for jowl, my dog and I." "Canst thou not be serious for a moment, neighbour Proudfute ?" said the glover; "I want a word of conversation with you." "Serious!" answered his visitor; "why, I have been serious all this day: I can hardly open my mouth, but something comes out about death, a burial, or suchlike--the most serious subjects that I wot of." "St.John, man!" said the glover, "art then fey ?" "No, not a whit: it is not my own death which these gloomy fancies foretell.

I have a strong horoscope, and shall live for fifty years to come.

But it is the case of the poor fellow--the Douglas man, whom I struck down at the fray of St.Valentine's: he died last night; it is that which weighs on my conscience, and awakens sad fancies.

Ah, father Simon, we martialists, that have spilt blood in our choler, have dark thoughts at times; I sometimes wish that my knife had cut nothing but worsted thrums." "And I wish," said Simon, "that mine had cut nothing but buck's leather, for it has sometimes cut my own fingers.

But thou mayst spare thy remorse for this bout: there was but one man dangerously hurt at the affray, and it was he from whom Henry Smith hewed the hand, and he is well recovered.