Notes.—­Benjamin Franklin (b. 1706, d. 1790) was one of the most prominent men in the struggle of the American colonies for liberty.  He was renowned as a statesman, and, although not an author by profession, was a very prolific writer.  His “Autobiography,” which was first printed in France, is now a household volume in America.  See page 431.

Boswell, James, (b. 1740, d. 1795,) was a Scotch lawyer, and is chiefly known as the biographer of Dr. Johnson, of whom he was the intimate friend and companion.

Johnson, Samuel.  See biographical notice, page 78.

CV.  THE DREAM OF CLARENCE. (368)

Scene—­Room in the Tower of London.  Enter Clarence and Brakenbury.

Brak.  Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? 
Clar.  O, I have passed a miserable night,
      So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
      That, as I am a Christian, faithful man,
      I would not spend another such a night,
      Though ’t were to buy a world of happy days,
      So full of dismal terror was the time! 
Brak.  What was your dream?  I long to hear you tell it. 
Clar.  Methoughts, that I had broken from the Tower,
      And was embarked to cross to Burgundy;
      And, in my company, my brother Gloster;
      Who, from my cabin, tempted me to walk
      Upon the hatches; thence we looked toward England,
      And cited up a thousand fearful times,
      During the wars of York and Lancaster,
      That had befallen us.  As we paced along
      Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
      Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
      Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
      Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
      Oh, then, methought, what pain it was to drown! 
      What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! 
      What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! 
      Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
      Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
      Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
      Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
      All scattered in the bottom of the sea. 
      Some lay in dead men’s skulls; and, in those holes
      Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
      As ’t were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
      Which wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
      And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. 
Brak.  Had you such leisure in the time of death,
      To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? 
Clar.  Methought I had; and often did I strive
      To yield the ghost:  but still the envious flood
      Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
      To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air;
      But smothered it within my panting bulk,
      Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 
Brak.  Awaked you not with this sore agony?