A Cotswold word.]

To him replied the stranger wearily:

Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.[11]

[Footnote 11: _Merchant of Venice_, II. vi.]

"Hast been with the hounds to-day?" enquired the honest squire.

"Ah, sir, and that I have," was the reply; "and never have I seen such
sport before. For seven long hours they made the welkin ring, and ran
like swallows o'er the plain." [12]

[Footnote 12: _Titus Andronicus_, II. ii.]

"Please to step in; we be just a-settin' down to supper--a cold capon
and a venison pasty. I'll tell my serving man to take thy nag to yonder
yard, and make him comfortable for the night."

"Thanks, sir, I'll take him round myself, and give the honest beast a
drench of barley broth,[13] and afterwards, to cheer him up a bit, a
handful or two of dried peas." [14]

[Footnote 13: _Henry V_., III. v.]

[Footnote 14: _Midsummer Night's Dream_, IV. i.]

Whilst the hunter was seeing to his nag, the squire thus addressed his
serving man:

"Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton,
and any pretty tiny kickshaws, tell William cook." [15]

[Footnote 15: 2 _Henry IV_., V. i.]

DAVY: "Doth the hunter stay all night, sir?"

SQUIRE: "Yes, Davy. I will use him well; good sportsmen are ever welcome
on Cotswold."

The wants of the Irish hobby having been thoroughly attended to, and the
game little fellow having recovered in some measure his natural gaiety
of spirits, the squire ushered the stranger into a long low hall, hung
with pikes and guns and bows, and relics of the chase as well as of the
wars. The stone floor was strewed with clean rushes, and lying about on
tables were trashes, collars, and whips for hounds, as well as hoods,
perches, jesses, and bells for hawks; whilst a variety of odds and ends,
such as crossbows and jumping-poles, were scattered about the apartment.
An enormous wood fire blazed at one end of the hall, and in the
inglenook sat a girl of some twenty summers.

"My daughter, sir," exclaimed the squire; "as good a girl as ever lived
to make a cheese, brew good beer, preserve all sorts of wines, and cook
a capon with a chaudron! Marry! I forgot to ask thee thy name?"

"Oh, my name is Shakespeare--William Shakespeare, sir. I come from
Stratford-on-the-Avon, up to'rds Warwick."

"Sha