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Updated: May 3, 2025
Presently he pulls up before a rebel trooper, that was writhing on the slope with a shatter'd thigh, yet raised himself on his fists to gaze on us with wide, painful eyes. "Good sirs," gasp'd out the rebel, "can you tell me where be Nat Shipward?" "Now how should I know?" I answer'd. "'A had nutty-brown curls, an' wore a red jacket Oh, as straight a young man as ever pitched hay!
But see, his face is black, and full of blood; His eye-balls farther out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling, His hands abroad display'd, as one that gasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. Henry IV. Part I THE Sheriff-depute of the county arrived at Ellangowan next morning by daybreak.
'Twas, as I guess'd, a taproom for the soldiers: and the girl had been scouring one of the pewter mugs when my entrance startled her. She stood up, white as if painted, and gasp'd "Quick quick! Down here behind the counter for your life!" There was scarce time to drop on my knees before a couple of troopers loung'd in, demanding mull'd beer.
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