The stranger was a slender young man, seemingly about eighteen years of age. He might, indeed, be two or three years older; but the freshness of his complexion, and his exceedingly slight figure (though the mould of his figure was unexceptionable), would hardly support such a conjecture. He was dressed with great splendour; but it was not his costly habits, but the charms which he derived from nature, that made his appearance imposing; and he needed no meretricious attractions to prepossess every unenvious eye in his favour. “A fair morning to your worship!” he cried, on coming up with Sir Walter. “What fell and desperate design hast thou now in hand, that thus thou bearest down, equipped with all the art of a lover, on the court of our virgin Queen?” “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.”