The Colloquies of Edward Osborne, Citizen and Clothworker of London

"Whose can those be?" quod she. "Aye! whose, indeed?" said I. But I thought I knew.—Thus, in honeyed Sweetness, lapsed Day after Day.

But it came to an End. I found at last, whether I would shut mine Eyes or no, whether I would give Ear or feign Dullness, that I was seeing, hearing Nothing but Mistress Anne. At first, I would not attend to this; then said (in Answer to Something,) "What Harm?" But yet Something answered back again, There is Harm. Then quod I, To whom? There is none, nor never shall be to any save myself, and the only Harm to me is the Pain; and if the Pain is a Pleasure, or I choose to bear it and count it as such, where's the Harm and where's the Wrong?

But the Pleasure was gone. At least, there was so much Pain overlying it, that it was crushed down and smothered, and struggling to get free of its Burthen. Then I asked myself what this was about, and whither could it tend, and what had I lost that I had had before, that made me seem a different Ned Osborne? Also, why did I bring Shame on myself and bring Master Hewet's keen Observance on me by such and such a Blunder in my daily Charge? Was his Eye altering towards me? Would it not needs alter, did he wit the foolish, impossible Things I spent the best (the worst) of my Time in dreaming of? Oh! my Heart would not bear it! There was Something eating its Way into my Soul, as a Weevil gnaws its Way into a Garner.

—No, this could not go on. I thought over it and took my Part; and after watching and letting slip many Opportunities, I at length, in Desperation, took the very first that came next, and stood beside Master Hewet at his Desk when I wist that no Other was or would soon be within Earshot; and said, "Master, I must go."

"Whither, Lad?" quod he, surprised, yet kindly,—"On some Errand of thine own about the Town?"

I tried to get back my Voice, it faltered so!—and said, "Away ... away from here."

"Art ill?" quod he, laying down his Pen, and suddenly looking full at me. "Dost thou want to go for a While into the Country?"

"No," I said, "I must go seek another Service."

"Another Service?" repeated he, with a yet more piercing Look.—"This is strange ... and sudden. We thought you were so happy."

"I was," said I. "Only—"

"Only what?" And he waited: but I spake never a Word mo'.

"I see how it is!" cried he, suddenly growing red, "Master Groggett hath tempted thee away from me, with Promise of higher Salary. Pitiful Fellow! I wot he hath long envied me a faithful Servant. 'Tis against our Company's Ordinance, to tempt a Man from his Master! Go, however, since thou wilt, ungrateful Youth!—thy Fidelity hath been undermined; thou hast never apprized our Kindness, hast never loved us!"

This unloosed my Tongue, and I said, "I have felt, if I have not deserved your Kindness, Master Hewet. No one hath tempted, nor could tempt me away, and I but seek to go for that I love you e'en too well."

"How can you love us too well?" quod he distrustfully.

—"One of you," I said, faltering.

"Anne?" cried he. And saw it in my Face.

—"Well, Lad," quod he, softer, "no Need to blush scarlet nor weep, where no Shame lieth. That would be in not loving her, I think. You may love too much, you can't love too well."

"Too well for my Peace," quod I, turning my Head away—"You had better let me go."

"Well, I think not," quod he, after a Pause of some Length. "Go to what? To another House, where Everything will be worse for thee, save that Anne will be not only out of Reach but out of Sight. You must perforce conquer yourself then, you know. Try to conquer yourself now."

"I don't think I can," I said; so huskily, that he made me repeat it twice.

"You meant to try, I suppose," quod he, "when you spake of going away."

"Yes, Master."

"Well, try here:—for a little While, that I may think where to place you. Ned!—I have had some Trial of thee; I have tested thee, and I have trusted thee. Don't betray my Trust in this Matter."

I said, "I will not."

"And do thou," quod he, with all his old Kindness, "trust in me. I shall do what, on Deliberation, I think best for you. And stay thyself with this Reflection: that if thou wert the first Noble in the Land, sueing for my Daughter, I would not, in these her so early Days, give her to thee. Keep a brave, honest Heart, and take Things quietly. You have not been such a Knave as to speak to her?"

"No, Master."

"Your Word is enough," quod he, and left me. I put my Head down on mine Arms and shed hot Tears that had no Relief in them. Just then, I felt a kind Hand laid with strong emphatic Pressure on my Shoulder. I kissed it, in Sign of Reverence and Good-faith: he understood it for such, and left me without a Word. And I went on mine Affairs with a lightened Heart.

CHAPTER XIII
 Master Hewet ordereth Things discretely

Two Days after this, Master Hewet sent me to Antwerp. I abode there six Months, transacting his Affairs. There was much to learn, much to see. When I returned Home, it was with a strong Heart. Directly I saw Mistress Anne, I felt that I loved her as much as ever; but I also felt that I could rule myself. She cried, "Oh, Osborne, thou art returned at last! How glad I am!" with her dear, innocent Eyes fixed brightly on mine; and forthwith began to tell me that one of her Dormice had died, and to ask me to get her another. I told her I had brought her a Guinea-pig; she thanked me, but said she did not think she should like it as much as the Dormouse.

I found that some Change in Household Arrangements had been made in mine Absence, whereby my old Quarters were pre-occupied; and that Master Hewet had taken a Lodging for me at the Barbitonsor's over the Way; where, in Sooth, both Master Soper and the young Women failed not in Aught that should be for my Comfort, and at very reasonable Charges. Howbeit, an Alarm of Housebreakers soon recalled me to mine old Post again, save that I had the Attick in Place of the Loft; every Woman in the House thinking it safe with me and unsafe without me. And Master Hewet said I made the old Place look more like itself.

Now, mark me, Hew! Thus went I on for three whole Years, and ne'er once lost Hold of my Stay. What Man hath done, Man may do. I was not like one working on Hope, for I had had none given me. I say not that I was always borne up to High-water Mark. Questionless, there were daily Ebbs and Flows; and ever and anon, a mighty, powerful, rushing Wind would come, and drive back the Current on an Heap, leaving bare the stony Channel; till after a While, with strong Recoil, it came hurrying back, ready to sweep all before it. But, I never let go the Rope! Many Waters cannot quench Love, neither can the Floods drown it. Deep might call hoarsely unto Deep, but not prevail....

Speak as if I felt it? Why, I do! I am an oldish Man now, at least you think me not over young; but there are some good and pure Feelings, Lad, thou wilt never become dull to, so long as thou keepest thy Heart with all Diligence. And the best of it is, that whilst those Feelings, so far as they were pleasant, are pleasant still, the Pains, then so bitter, that came from keeping down all that was wrong with a strong Hand, are now Pleasures too!—that are recalled over and over again: when, maybe, we seem cogitating or dozing. Give me thy Hand, Lad: I see you believe me.

So did Master Hewet believe me. We were, I fancy, often thinking at the same Time of the same Matter; but thereof spake we none. I was not watched; neither did he make a Shew of not watching me: only gave me daily Proofs of a deepening and enlarging Confidence. I heard him say one Day to one of his fellow Aldermen, ere the Door was well closed behind me, "It were a poor Word, Master Bowyer, to say I could trust that young Man with untold Gold."

But those Ebbs and Flows I spake of ... sometimes they arose from mine own unmanageable Thoughts, I wist not why nor wherefore; sometimes from the Approach of this or that Suitor ... for, towards the End of the Term I named, there were full many, I promise you; though, for the most Part, not dangerous ones: sometimes from Mistress Anne herself, who began to have her Ebbs and Flows too, both of Spirits and Temper; and who, when some of her Suitors, more unpleasing unto her than the Rest, did make Suit to her with Over-boldness, would become pettish and captious, not only with them but with me and with every one else.

In one of these little Humours, she accused me of being less regardful of pleasing her than any one in the House: I would do Nothing for her. I said there was Nothing I would not do. She said that was fine Talking. I said, Would she prove me? She was leaning over the Balcony at the Time; and, looking down therefrom, said, Would I bring her that yellow Fumitory that grew in the Cleft of the Bridge-buttress? I looked at it and then at her, and said gravely, it could not be done without imperilling of Life, but that if she bade me, I would try. She said, turning red as she spake, she did bid me. Then I said I would take my Reward beforehand, as I might not be fortunate enough to come back. And kissed her Hand, and the same Instant was over the Parapet. She cries, "Oh Edward, stay!" and gives a Scream that rings through my Ears and makes People look forth of their Casements. I was hanging by my two Hands to the Ballusters, seeking some Ledge for my Foot; but, seeing her white Face, and knowing she had sent me on a sinfully reckless Errand, I, without more Ado, gave a sudden Spring back into the Balcony. She meanwhile, in the Buckram-chamber, had hidden her Face in her Hands, and was weeping bitterly. I was never so near losing Command of myself as that Time.

'Twould amuse thee—it amuses me,—to pass in Review all her Suitors of that Season. There was Master Bolsover, the Merchant-tailor—young Bowes, the Goldsmith, Son of Sir Martin—Guy Burrell, the Clothworker;—pretty near all the great Companies, except the Fishmongers', had their Representative, I think.—Then, for the Court, there were Ralph de Cobham, a Spendthrift, Lancelyn Ferrars, and a sixth Cousin of the Percies. These all came and went, like Players in a Droll.

Meantime, I came and went, too; ... to Leeds, to Halifax, to Norwich, to Stratford; and again to Cales, Abbeville, and Antwerp. Master Hewet supplied me with plenty of Money, and kept me abroad longer than before. I had Time to look at Pictures and Churches, and to learn to speak the Tongues of the Countries I abode in with some Fluency. I had Introductions to Merchants of the Staple, among whom were Men as friendly and enlightened as any I ever knew.

When I learned that Queen Mary had deceased, and that our gracious Lady Elizabeth was set on the Throne in her Stead, I thought it hard to be still kept from Home, where Terror and Tears had now given Place to Joy and Gladness. Howbeit, Master Hewet would still keep me Abroad, on some Affairs that seemed of less Moment to me than they did to him.

I set my Face towards England at last, with a greater Longing for Home than I had ever had before. That Home was now changed: Master Hewet had removed into a goodly Mansion in Philpot Lane, fit for a Merchant Prince, and plainly yet nobly furnished. His Household was also increased by the Addition of several new Servants; but the House on the Bridge was still his House of Business.

I know not when I had so desired to see his Face, and to breathe the same Air with Mistress Anne. I hastened to Philpot Lane, and the first Sound I heard on entering the House, was of a Lute, rarely touched. I stood at Pause and listened with Rapture. I thought, Oh, what heaven-like Sounds! how sweet an Air! how greatly hath she improved! when, of a sudden, the Prelude, for 'twas no more, was succeeded by a lovesick Ballad, sung by a Man's mellow Voice! Oh, my Heart seemed to leap to my Lips, so great was the Revulsion. I staggered as though I were shrew-struck; and leaning against the Wall, tried to deafen my Ears to the hateful Sound. How all the sweet Chords seemed jangled! Who was the Singer? and what was his Footing here?

While I put to myself these bootless Questions, the Door at the Stair-head opened, Voices spake Farewell, some one came forth, a light Foot ran down the Stair, and, or ever I was aware, or could move off, a very young Man, habited in russet Damask and blue embroidered Satin, handsome and of lordly Bearing, nearly ran over me. Looking forth of the House-door, he turned about again and said to me abruptly, "Canst tell me where are my People?"

I made Answer, "I know not your People's Liveries, my Lord," (for I felt assured he was a Nobleman,) "but I saw a Party of Men in watchet Coats, with a spotted Dog on their Badges, at the Lane-end."

"All right," quod he, and proffered me a Piece of Money with a good-natured Air; but I drew back, on which he looked surprised, gave me a second Look, slightly bent his Head, and went forth.

I saw he had offered me a Gift, mistaking my Degree; but what I could not help chiefly noting was, the exceeding smallness of the Coin. I marvelled so fine a young Gentleman could proffer so mean a Gift. "Ah," thought I, "'tis the City Wealth brings these Gallants so far east. A Bag of Gold would be as welcome to them tied round the Neck of Damaris as of sweet Mistress Anne. 'Tis for their own Ends they hawk low, like a Swift for a Dragonfly."

Then I leaned against the Wall for a Moment, and said within myself, "O God, I have Everything that is dear to me at Stake. However my Patience may be tried, yet make me patient, I beseech thee: I know it is the Thing of all others in which I am most to seek; yet let me, as at this Time, struggle with myself not in vain, O Lord."

Then I ran nimbly up-stairs, into the pleasant Summer-chamber the young Lord had just left. Therein found I Mistress Anne, hanging in a thoughtful Posture, over a Posy of rare Flowers on the Table. Starting when she saw me, she said, "Oh, Osborne, is it you?" and blushed.

I stood at Pause, without a Word to proffer. Quod she, "I am glad thou art safe returned—hast thou seen my Father?" I said, "No, Mistress. Have you fared quite well since I left?" She saith, "Quite well." Then I said, "What rare Flowers! shall I bring you some Water for them?" "No," quod she carelessly, "they are scarce worth the keeping." "Scarce worth the keeping!" quod I, "nay, they are not such as are to be bought in a London Herb-market.... Divers of them, these Coronations for Example, must have come from far." "They all come from far," quod she, "but what of that? I like them none the better." And commenced pulling a Gilly-flower to Pieces. I said, "I am glad I am not that Gilly-flower." She saith, "Why?" But I made no Answer, for how witted I that I was any better prized? So I turned to go; and just as I gained the Door, I heard her softly say, "Edward!" Then I stayed. She saith, "You will find my Father in his Closet;" and so, passed me with the Flowers in her Hand; and I saw that her Eyes were full of Tears ready to shed. When she was gone, I went back and took up some of the Gilly-flower Leaves she had scattered, and kissed them. Just then enters Master Hewet from his Closet beyond, wherein he might ha' heard every Word had been said; but there was Nought to be shamed of, if he did.

He saith, "Ned! I am glad to see thee, Lad! How well thou look'st! And yet, now I observe thee more narrowly, thou look'st amiss. Hath Aught gone wrong? Nay then, that's well. Methinks, with thine Allowance, thou mightest go a little braver; which is what few young Men need the egging on to ... and yet thou gracest whatsoe'er thou hast on."

Then he told me what he called the grand News of the Day—my Lord Talbot's Suit to Mistress Anne. I said, "Oh! Master, don't kill me," and hid my Face in my Hands. He saith, "Why, Ned, whom am I saving her for, but you? Look up, Boy! He that did save, the same shall have! I have but one Child, and I mean to make her happy. But mark me, Ned, I wot not whether that is to be done by giving her unto mine adopted Son; nor, peradventure, art thou any more assured of it. Woo her then, Lad, with my free Consent, but tell her not just yet, that thou hast it. My Fancy—a strange one, maybe—is to see what she will in that Case do."

I knelt, and caught his Hand to my Lips.

"Thy Father's own Son," quod he smiling, "he had the darker Beard, thou hast the better Eye. Thou art a Gentleman's Son, and I am no more. Start fair with the young Lord; he dines with me to-day, and so shalt thou. And now, be off with thee."

I passed forth into the Stretes, not heeding in what Direction, for my Brain was a-fire, and I wanted to quiet it and to think over many Things—no Place for Solitariness like the Stretes! Then I returned to my old Quarters on the Bridge, and looked out a Suit I had bought and wore once at Antwerp, but had thought almost too fine for Home, albe but little garnished ... to wit, of murray-colour, overlaid with a good silk Lace; and a Mechlin Edge and Tassels to my Bands. Thought I, peradventure the 'Prentice in his blue Gown had most reason to be proud of his Favour ... she kissed me then, when she could scarce hold on by my Hair, 'twas so short; and now it might wind twice round her Finger.... Then I went across to Master Soper, and quod I, "Now, Master Tonsor, thou must trim me for a Feast; but, mark me, mine Hair was cut last in Flanders, where they trim the Hair little and the Beard close; so follow the Lead and keep the foreign Fashion, and I'll give thee Twopence."

"Marry come up," muttered he, "what Airs these Youngsters bring from over Seas!" And I felt I was in his power, and that one malicious snip might put me past Redress; howbeit, he stayed himself with less Work, more Pay, and acquitted himself handsomely. Then I took my Flemish Beaver, and my new Cloke across my Arm, and sallied forth; and chancing to look back, was avised of Tryphena and Tryphosa leaning forth of their upper Casement to look after me. Being caught at which, they disappeared.

As I entered the House, I heard Mistress Fraunces say to Damaris, "Be sure they spoil not the Mortreuse," which avised me we were to have state. Howbeit, there was a rich plainness in Everything; the parcel-gilt double Salt-cellar and chased Flagons alone calling Attention to their Cost. And though Everything set on Table was far-fetched and of the best, far exceeding the Tables of the best Merchants in Antwerp, we had not too much nor too many of any Thing. I could not note that Mistress Anne had made any Difference for him—a few Strings of Pearls were warped into her Hair, and she ware her mouse-coloured Velvet, which she never thought too fine, with or without Company; but no Posy. Two Men with Talbot Badges helped Master Hewet's Men to wait; my Lord sat next Mistress Anne, and I over-against them. As we took our Places, he seemed to remember my Face, and to be surprised at my sitting down with him; which Master Hewet noting, in a certain haughtiness in his Air, he saith, "Mine adopted Son, my Lord, and the Son of mine earliest Friend.... We are all plain People, but the Osbornes as good as any here sitting, saving your Lordship's Presence." Whereon, my Lord, recovering, pledged me.

Now, Mistress Fraunces was so abashed at entertaining an Earl's Son, as that she lost all her natural Easiness, and could bethink her of Nothing to say but to ask him ever and anon, whether he liked what he ate, which he professed to do once and again, though I believe he scarce marked the Difference of one Dish from another. For the first Time, I learned what the fair Speech of Lordlings to Ladies is made of ... it seemed to me rather a flimsy Stuff, Warp and Woof; over-stretched and loose-wove. Then Master Hewet, to leave him and Anne to themselves, kept up a By-talk with me about Flanders; drawing forth of me not so much about the Staple as about the Country, Towns, Rivers, Houses, Churches, and People. I had been to Nürnberg, and could tell him of the mighty Works of Genius produced by the Artists of the free Imperial City, and of the Wealth and Splendour of its Merchants. Mistress Fraunces was afterwards pleased to say I took the Colour out of the young Lord: what she intended thereby I never clearly made out—peradventure, being a Woman, she meant I was brown and red, and he pink and white; for indeed I was sore sunburned. For good Looks, there was no Fault to find in my Lord: he had that Easiness of Carriage and Manner which I think none but young Lords have. He took not much upon him, considering what he was and with whom; and, for the Rest, he was pleasant, but not bright. His Hands were womanish for Softness, and I heard from Damaris, who had it from his Men, that one Reason thereof was, he never washed them in cold Water, only dabbed them a little with a soft Napkin. Methought, rather than that, I would choose my Hands of a little coarser Grain. I think he parleyed for a Quarter of an Hour on the Christian Names of his Ancestry, how the Heads of his House had been alternately a Richard and a Gilbert, a Richard and a Gilbert, for I wot not how many Generations; and then how the Name of George got in, and then of Frauncis, and how he was a George again ... flimsy Talk and tedious. Mistress Anne sate wondrous quiet, and once gave me, across the Table, such a Look! Methought if she were secretly amusing herself, I had no Need to be so jealous unto Death as I felt.

When my Lord took Leave, he, to my Surprise, invited me to attend him a little Way. I looked at him, to be assured there was no Mistake; and, seeing he awaited me, I followed; Master Hewet saying as I departed, "Fail not to look in on us as thou returnest." In the open Air, my Lord and I walked awhile without speaking, by Reason of the People we met; but, proceeding to a side Aisle of Paul's, he spake to me of this and that, I following his Lead, and leaving him to start his Subject.

At length, quod he, "Master Hewet lives quietly ... they that save most, shew least; ha, Master Osborne?" I coolly replied, "My Lord, it may be so."—"A rich Man," pursued he, "like a Prophet, may have least Honour in his own Street and his own House. Why now, there may be many cross daily his Threshold and have Speech of him on ordinary Affairs, that wot not he, for as homely as he is, hath six thousand Pounds by the Year ... am I within the Mark, Master Osborne?" "Marry, my Lord," quod I, "your honourable Lordship seemeth to know much more of the Secrets of his strong Box than I do. I never yet asked of him what it held, nor never was told." "That may be true," quod he, "and yet you may guess."—"But I never did guess," interrupted I, "I know him for rich, and liberal, and of high Credit at Home and Abroad; and that is all." "You would surprise me," quod my Lord, "unless it were clear to me that you resent my Freedom with you in this Matter." "On my Faith, my Lord," quod I, "I resent Nothing. I may know the Amount and Success of this or that Venture of Master Hewet's, without having any Key to the Sum total of his Wealth; but whatever came to my Knowledge, whether by Chance, by Confidence, or in the Way of Business, it is certain I should keep locked in my Heart as faithfully as his Trade Secrets what Time I was his 'Prentice." "Nay, you are a good and honest Heart," quod my Lord. "Be as honourable to me as to him, I beseech you, and say Nothing that shall minish me in his good Liking." "Why should I, my good Lord?" quod I, "our Paths lie wide enough asunder." "Aye, but you have his Ear," quod he, "in the Way of daily Business, and he spake of you as his adopted Son. If you are as a Son unto him, his Daughter is unto you as a Sister, and you may do a good Turn for me, peradventure, with fair Mistress Anne." "My Lord," quod I, "we are on quite a different Footing from what you suppose, and your Suit would gain no better Favour from passing through my Hands." "Will you try that?" quod he, smiling. "Marry, my Lord, why should you put it upon me?" quod I, "you are far better able to make Suit for yourself ... Earls' Sons do not commonly seek in vain for fair Ladies' Favour."... "You will, at least, not be my Foe?" quod he. "No, my Lord," quod I, "unless you give me greater Reason to be than you have done yet: howbeit, I marvel your Lordship should value my good or ill Favour at a Pin's Purchase."

"Ah," quod he, after a Pause, during which we paced half the Length of the Aisle, "there be some Things that neither Rank nor Money can buy; and I saw that Mistress Anne had you in her Regard."—"Did you, my Lord?" cried I, "wherein did she shew it?" But he was thinking of his own Matters rather than of mine, therefore only said, "I could discern it and am assured of it; therefore be my good Friend, good Osborne, and speak a good Word for me when you can."

Then taking a Ring off his Finger, he saith, "I beseech you, accept this Ruby for the Esteem I bear unto you ... a mere Trifle, yet a good Stone, I assure you—nay, Sir, be not so unkindly—'beseech you, for my Love."

I put it aside, saying, "In a Word, my Lord, I cannot. Faith, it were well your honourable Lordship would turn into another Aisle, for there is a Tailor behind yonder Pillar taking down the Particulars of your Apparel in his Notebook, which 'twere Pity o' my Life, for the excellent Devising thereof, should be copied and sold in a City Frippery."

He moved off with a Start and a Smile, replacing his Ring. At the same Time we were accosted by one of those habitual Frequenters of Paul's Walk, that will sue your Charity first, and pick your Pocket afterwards. My Lord affected first not to hear him, but seeing me feel for a Trifle to be quit of him, he sought his own Purse, which, not finding, he turned about in some Anxiety to his Men, who were some Way behind, and accosted them as soon as they came up, with "Here, Cresswell, Jenkyn! I have lost my Purse,—hie back, one of you, to Master Hewet's, where, methinks, I dropped it." "My Lord, I will return and aid in the Search," quod I, glad of an Excuse for ending so troublesome a Dialogue; albeit I thought it much more likely he had lost his Purse in the Place we were in than dropped it at our House.

However, there I was wrong, for Damaris met us on our Return, saying, "Oh yes, here is my Lord's Purse," and gave it unto his Man. When she had watched him depart, "'Twas hardly worth returning for," quod she disdainfully, "there were but three Nobles; and albeit the Purse had a Hole in't, 'twas not big enow for a Penny-piece to drop through. But peradventure he was ashamed we should see it, so was anxious to have it back." "There's no Shame in Poverty, Damaris," quod I, "if we are not proud with it."—"Nay, I know not," quod she, doubtfully; "Folks always are ashamed of it, that's certain."

In the withdrawing Chamber sate Mistress Anne at her Needle, beside Master Hewet in his great Chair. "Now then," thought I, "every good Angel be my speed! I believe I can tell as well as most whether a Man be only setting himself to sleep, or verily and indeed sleeping; and I see that at this present, Master Hewet is truly and soundly asleep, but yet his being at his Daughter's Side gives me Freedom of Access unto her I should not in other Wise enjoy, and will now neither abuse nor neglect."

So, without a second Thought, and armed with my Possession of the Father's private Grace, I sate down over-against her. She said, "So soon returned?" and began to question me of my Travel. Then my Tongue unloosed, and I told her how many fair Things I had seen, how many notable People and Places, yet how none of these had been able to damp for one Moment my Desire to be at Home, within Sight and Sound of her. As I went on, waxing more and more fluent, more and more passionate, so did her Colour wax deeper and deeper, until, with a Look of extreme Displeasure and Aversion, she said, "Edward, thou art beside thyself ... pray let me never more hear such foolish Talk as this—I had better Thoughts of thee." And arose to go. I arose too, and stayed her, and prayed her to forgive me if I had spoken Aught amiss,—if she did not, I could have no Peace. She said, "I cannot just now, I am wounded so much;" and went away, with flushed Cheeks and Eyes full of Tears. Master Hewet was roused by her Departure, and, rubbing his Eyes, smiled and said, "I thought Anne had been here." "She is but just gone," I made Answer; and the rest of the Evening was sad enough.

Next Day, I had long Speech of Master Hewet, touching foreign Affairs. He told me of this and that Estate in Yorkshire he had been buying, in the Parishes of Wales and Hartshill, and of his minding to send me down to see them, if I were ready to start off again so soon. I said, "I am quite ready, Sir." "Shortly thou shalt go, then," quod he. "And now take up these Letters to Anne, for they concern her more than me, being Thanks from some of her poor Pensioners." Adding, just as I was leaving, "Thou didst not make much way last Night, Ned ..." and smiled; which bewrayed to me that he had heard at least Part of what was said; which I was mad with him for, and thought not fair.

And now I began to muse within myself what a provoking Thing it was, that when all the Obstacles I had counted insurmountable between Anne and me had suddenly given Way, I should be brought up short by herself! Certes, an' she cared not for me, there was no more to be said; and Master Hewet would in no Ways be to blame if he gave her to Somebody else; neither had I ever sought nor had she ever bestowed any such Tokens of especial and considerable Regard as should encourage me to suppose I had only to ask and have. And yet, I had somehow always thought, "Only give me my fair Chance with the Rest, and I ask for nothing better." That was my Conceit and Presumption. Therefore with a very sad and sorry Aspect did I carry up the Letters to Mistress Anne, and used as few Words as need be in the delivering of them. She on her Part was equally dry, and gave me no Pretence to tarry, and yet I lingered. Seeing which, and that I was about to speak, (though I protest, on Somewhat quite as trivial as the Weather,) she suddenly coloured up very much and said, "Edward, if you are going to talk any more Nonsense, as you did last Night, I would rather go away." "There's no Need, Madam," said I coolly, "I had not such a Thought in my Head." On which she coloured still worse, and sitting down again began to read her Letters.

Damaris now came in, and began to stitch away at a distant Window. "I have but to say Farewell, Mistress Anne," quod I, "before I start on my next Journey." "So soon again? where are you going?" quod she, without looking up from her Letters. "A rolling Stone gathers no Moss." (This was an unkind Cut, considering her own Father set me rolling.) "To Yorkshire," replied I, "and perhaps I had best say Farewell at once, for Lord Talbot is coming in at the Gate."

"Oh then, Edward, stay!" cries she with all her old Frankness: starting up and dropping her Letters. As we both stooped to pick them up, I said, "I will, if you wish it; but are you assured you know your own Mind?" "Quite," said she very determinately, "so leave me not by any Means."

Then cometh in my Lord, very brave, in blue Silk and Silver. How laughable it was, if I could but have felt merry! Damaris, questionless, was laughing in her Sleeve. My Lord steps up to Mistress Anne, with easy Assuredness, and touches with his Lips a very pretty Fabrick of Silk rayed with Silver, for she gave him a gloved Hand. Then he hoped she had rested better than he had, as in Sooth he saw by her divine Looks she must needs have done; and he marvelled not that Roses were at no Price to be had just now at Court, since 'twas plain they found a more nourishing Soil in the City; and so forth, like a Valentine, calling her Looks Nature's sweetest Books, her Tresses golden Meshes, her Voice Musick, her Favour Heaven, with Apostrophes to Venus and Cupid, and Asseverations that he was a Prey to a Mind delighting in Sorrow, Spirits wasted with Passion, a Heart torn in Pieces with Care. To which she made Answer, that she hoped he overstated his ill Condition. To which he responded that if he did, 'twas error amoris, not amor erroris. With othermuch i' the same Vein, that he cared no Whit for mine hearing, but rather enjoyed having another Listener while he ran off Phrases that it seemed to me he must needs have got by Heart. I thought, As she liketh not my Fashion, maybe she liketh this. Howbeit, there was Nothing in her Favour to discover whether she did or no. So after a set Time given to this Court-like Parry and Thrust, this Quip and Compliment, whereby I wist not how a Man could suppose his Suit moved one Way or the other, my Lord takes leave with easy Grace, as a Man who had, in one Affair, transacted the Business of the Day to his Satisfaction.

So soon as he hath departed, Mistress Anne falls a laughing, when in cometh Master Hewet, looking somewhat harassed; seeing which, Damaris sweeps up her Work and departs, leaving us all with grave Faces.

"Nan," quoth Master Hewet, casting himself into his Arm-chair, "I must have a few Words with thee of this Suitor of thine."

"We are not alone, Father," interrupted Mistress Anne, casting a quick, apprehensive Look towards me.

"Tilly-valley," he responded, "none other is within Earshot of us but Ned Osborne, who is only an alter ego."

"He may be thine, Father, but he is not mine," quod Mistress Anne, somewhat captiously, "and I pray you to defer what you have to say to me till we are by ourselves."

"Maiden, thou art over-hasty," quod Master Hewet, looking fixedly at her, "and, in thy Fear of being over-civil unto one who has been unto thee as a Brother, and to whom, moreover, thou owest thy Life, art somewhat failing in good Manners."

Her Eye sank before his, and she submissively replied, "Well, then, Father, what is it thou wouldest say?"

"Just this," he returned, "whether Lord or Commoner, the Youth must have an Answer, so soon as thou knowest thine own Mind."

"I know it already," quod Mistress Anne, shortly.

"What is it?" saith her Father. She faltered for a Moment,—"Not to have him," she replied softly.

"Ned, thou hast thine Answer," quod Master Hewet.

"I, Sir?" quod I, starting.

"Hear'st thou not?" returned he imperturbably, "thou hast it from herself. I told thee I but sought to make my only Child happy,—you can't make her so, it seemeth,—she won't have you."

"Father! what are you saying?" cried Mistress Anne, trembling exceedingly.

He looked at her, but made no Answer.

"Were you not," said she, leaning over him breathlessly, her Dress vibrating with the quick beating of her Heart,—"were you not making Question of Lord Talbot?"

—"Lord Talbot? Lord Marlingspike!"—quod he, "my Thoughts were as far from him as from the City Giants! Said I not 'this Suitor of thine'? Whom should I think of but Ned Osborne?"

"You never told me before, that I might," quod she, turning scarlet, and then bursting into Tears. I sprang towards her, but she brake away from me, and was gone in a Moment. Master Hewet leaned back in his Chair and smiled. "Methinks, Ned," quod he, "the Day is thine, this Time." And, taking the Ring off his Finger, that he had shown Lord Howard of Effingham on the Bridge, "See," quod he, "how long I have destined her for thee!"

—Here 'tis, Hew—I always wear it now. Thou mark'st the Posy:

—Many a goodly Hereditament had I with her, too ... the Barking Estate, and those Yorkshire Lands inclusive. The Settings of my Ring, Lad! no more—the Casket that went with my Treasure—the binding of my Book.

So now thou seest how thou mayest wait a little longer for fair Mistress Joyeuse, without fuming and chafing, lest this Hurt, got in a good Cause, should lose thee thy Place among thy Rivals. Tut, Lad, 'twill only grace thee in her Eyes all the more! See how Things came round in my Case. I had not half thy good Favour, nor the brightness that a Sword carrieth in a Woman's Eyes. "A plain Man, dwelling in Tents...." Nothing more!

Well, what remains to tell? We married, we were happy? Thou knowest it, and yet sayest, "Go on." Anne and I were married early in the October of that Year; and on the 29th of that same Month, Master Hewet was chosen Lord Mayor of London, and knighted at Westminster. What a Pageant we got up for him! I was a young Husband, full of Spirits, and ready for Anything that came in my Way, Feasting or Fighting; in special, then, to do Honour to him unto whom, under Heaven, I owed all earthly Good. So I took Council with the Master-revellers; and, between us, we concocted as pretty a Subtlety as ever was devised! Don't laugh, Sirrah! you'd have thought it very fine. There was the Symbol of our Mystery, a Golden Ram, ridden by a little Child, cherub-like for Beauty, followed by rustical Shepherds and Shepherdesses with Pipes and Tabors and flower-wreathed Crooks. Then came the Players of the Pageant, which was the Story of Apollo keeping the Flocks of Admetus, and helping him to win his fair Wife; all which was to be enacted at the proper Time on a goodly Stage representing a pastoral Wilderness, with Trees, Bushes, Shrubs, Brambles, and Thickets, interspersed with Birds and Beasts. In the Midst, Apollo playing on his Lyre: on either Side a Satyr, mopping, mowing, and curvetting. This was, as you may plainly perceive, altogether diverse from and very superior to the Drapers' tasteless Pageant of Salisbury Plain, whereon were assembled Shepherds, Shepherdesses, Carders, Spinners, Dyers, Wool-combers, Shermen, Dressers, Fullers, Weavers, without any Order or Propriety.

Ours was of another guess Sort, Sir! I fancy there was some little Classicality in it; though I say it that should not. After the Hall Dinner, ('twas noted of all how pretty Anne, the young Bride, looked as Lady Mayoress!) the Players having set up their Stage, Apollo was discovered lying all along, a playing of his Lyre, with his Crook cast aside and his Sheep scattered hither and thither: and, quod he,

—And so forth, explaining why he had been banished from Heaven by Jupiter. Entereth to him Admetus, not wisting who he is, beyond his hired Servant, whereon they parley on Things in general, especially the Wool Trade and Clothworking, (with a Hit, here and there, at the Drapers.) Then the merry Sound of Drumes and Pfiffes causeth them to step aside behind the Trees, and there entereth a Company of Shepherds and Shepherdesses singing the Praises of their fair Lady Alcestis, represented by a fair Boy i' the Midst, crowned with Guirlands. Then Admetus doeth Apollo to wit how that he is enamoured of Alcestis, whose Father will in no wise bestow her save on one that shall yoke a Boar and Lion together in a Car. Then Apollo, who hath a dark Lanthorn aneath his Cloke wherewith he ever and anon maketh a sudden Flare into Admetus' Eyes, who wisteth not whence it cometh, nor wotteth 'tis the sunbright Glory of his celestial Guest, biddeth Admetus not to lose Heart, for that he will accomplish his Task for him. And thereupon taking up his Lyre, he beginneth to sing and play after such a transporting Manner, that the Birds give over singing in the Trees and hop down on his Shoulders, the Beasts begin to glare at him through the Thickets, and then to gather about him, subdued unto a kind of surly Softness,—whereon Apollo, giving Admetus a private Nod and continuing his playing, Admetus without more Ado takes a Yoke wreathed with Flowers from one of the Shepherds, yoketh therewith a Lion and a Boar into a Car that is presently brought in, placeth Alcestis in it, driveth her to the Feet of her Father, (a King,) who arriveth opportunely and can no longer say why the Marriage should not be solemnizated; and, their Hands being joined by him, the Shepherds and Shepherdesses dance about them, Apollo still playing; and one and all chant a Chorus in Praise of Clothworking.

Ha! that was a notable good Pageant! Far better than mine own, many Years after, which I need not tell thee, Lad, I did not devise myself. The Toy was pretty, too, and appropriate—the Story of Jason, whom I believe to have been nothing more nor less than a Merchant-adventurer that equipped his Ship the Argonaut, and by his Traffic and Commerce carried off the Golden Fleece; that is to say, the Trade of the World.

Scarce were the Pageants over, and Master Hewet, that is to say Sir William, set to his daily and hard Work—(for a Lord Mayor, Hew, hath no lazy Time on't! He presides at the Sittings of the Court of Aldermen, Common Council, and Common Hall, is Judge of the London Sessions at Guildhall, Justice of the Peace for Southwark, Escheator in London and Southwark, Conservator of the Thames, signs notarial Documents, presides at Public Meetings, founds Charities, is Trustee for Hospitals, attends the Privy Council on the Accession of Sovereigns, and—not to weary thee with the hearing of what I've had the doing,—sits daily in his own Justice Room by the Space of four or five Hours). Well, but, to begin a new Parenthesis, have we not had some fine Fellows among us? Look at Fitz-Alwin resisting one Sovereign, Walworth defending another, Picard feasting four Kings at his Table, Philpot raising a thousand Men at his private Charges to put down Pirates, Bamne relieving a great Dearth by importing foreign Corn, Falconer supplying Henry the Fifth with the Wherewithal for his French Wars, Whittington founding Divinity Lectures and building Newgate, Wells supplying the City with fresh Water, Eyre building Leadenhall for a Public Garner, and bestowing five thousand Marks on the Poor, Stockton knighted on the Field by his King for good Service in Battle, Fabian compiling Chronicles, White founding a College, and defending our Bridge; and, not to be farther tedious unto thee, Sir William Hewet, the Benefactor of every Hospital, and of the Poor of every Parish, besides bequeathing a Dowry to every poor Maid in the Parish of Wales or Hartshill in Yorkshire that should marry within a Year of his Decease. These Men, Hew, were Worthies in their Generation! And if Master Hewet had a hard Shrievalty, he had a joyous Mayoralty, under the early Rays of that fostering Sun, our glorious Sovereign Lady Elizabeth!

There is great Peace in the Land. I say not we are better than we were, but we are happier and more prosperous. Sometimes I think those Days of Trial did us good: they tried us even as Silver is tried; the baser Metal perished. Let us not settle on the Lees, lest a worse Thing come upon us.

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