"_Arden._ Come, Master Franklin, onward with your tale. _Frank._ I'll assure you, Sir, you task me much: A heavy blood is gathered at my heart; And on the sudden is my wind so short, As hindereth the passage of my speech: So fierce a qualm ne'er yet assailed me. _Arden._ Come, Master Franklin, let us go on softly: The annoyance of the dust, or else some meat You ate at dinner, cannot brook with you. I have been often so, and soon amended. _Frank._ Do you remember where my tale did leave? _Arden._ Ay, where the gentleman did check his wife. _Frank._ She, being reprehended for the fact, Witness produced, that took her with the deed, Her glove brought in, which there she left behind, And many other assured arguments, Her husband asked her whether it were not so-- _Arden._ Her answer then? I wonder how she looked, Having foresworn it with such vehement oaths, And at the instant so approved upon her. _Frank._ First she did cast her eyes down on the earth, Watching the drops that fell amain from thence: Then softly draws she out her handkercher, And modestly she wipes her tear stain'd face. Then hemm'd she out, to clear her voice it should seem, And with a majesty addrest herself To encounter all their accusations-- Pardon me, Master Arden, I can no more; This fighting at my heart makes short my wind. _Arden._ Come, we are almost now at Raynham Down; Your pretty tale beguiles the weary way: I would you were in ease to tell it out." Here they are set upon by ruffians, hired by Arden's wife and her paramour. Arden is killed.-- In the two preceding instances an affection of the heart is the herald of misfortune. In _Titus Andronicus_ (Act II., Sc. 4.), Quintus and Martius are afflicted with a sudden _dulness of sight_, which seems at once to be an omen of impending danger, and to facilitate their succumbing to it. "SCENE. _A desert part of the forest._ _Enter_ AARON THE MOOR, _with_ QUINTUS _and_ MARTIUS. _Aaron._ Come on, my lords, the better foot before: Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit, Where I espied the panther fast asleep. _Quin._ My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. _Mart._ And mine, I promise you: wer't not for shame, Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. [MARTIUS _falls into the pit_.]" It is unnecessary to give in detail the horrors that ensue. X. Z. CURIOUS BILL OF FARE, AND STORM, IN 1739. I send you two morsels, copied from a small MS. volume of a very miscellaneous character, consisting of poetical extracts, epigrams, receipts, and family memoranda of the ancestors of the gentleman who has kindly permitted me to send you the inclosed.