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Apparent typographical errors have been corrected. The use of hyphens
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 [Illustration:
 The Colloquies
 of
 Edward Osborne

 Citizen and Clothworker
 of London

 Illustrations by
 John Jellicoe]




 [Illustration: J Jellicoe
 "Surely thou art the Widow Osborne"]




 THE COLLOQUIES OF

 EDWARD OSBORNE

 CITIZEN AND CLOTHWORKER
 OF LONDON


 By

 The Author of "Mary Powell,"
 "The Household of Sir Thos. More," "Cherry & Violet"
 and "The Old Chelsea Bun-Shop," etc.


 _WITH TEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY_

 JOHN JELLICOE


 LONDON
 JOHN C. NIMMO
 NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
 MDCCCC


 Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
 At the Ballantyne Press




CONTENTS


CHAP.                                                        PAGE

   I.—_A Country Lad cometh to Town_                            1

  II.—_First Day of a London 'Prentice his Life_               27

 III.—_Ye Disposition & Economy of Master Hewet's House_       45

  IV.—_Noteworthy Deed of a Boy taught of a Woman_             58

   V.—_Edward Convalesceth i' the Green Lattice_               77

  VI.—_Tib's Malpractyzes_                                    102

 VII.—_Early Setting of a young Morning Star_                 117

VIII.—_The Defence of the Bridge_                             133

  IX.—_Osborne is out of his Time_                            167

   X.—_Evil Times bring Evil Crimes_                          181

  XI.—_The Blood of the Martyrs, yᵉ Seed of yᵉ Church_        194

 XII.—_A Snake among yᵉ Flowers_                              207

XIII.—_Master Hewet ordereth Things discretely_               231




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

_From Drawings by_ JOHN JELLICOE


"SURELY THOU ART THE WIDOW OSBORNE"                 _Frontispiece_

                                                             PAGE

"HELD THE OAR TO HIM"                             _To face_    40

"AND TOOK A LEAP"                                      "       60

TRYPHENA AND TRYPHOSA                                  "       88

"EATING CURDS AND CREAM"                               "      120

"MAKE WAY FOR THE SHERIFF'S DAUGHTER"                  "      140

"RODE OVER THE BRIDGE"                                 "      152

"COVERED HIS FACE AND WEPT"                            "      192

"PROFFERED ME A PIECE OF MONEY"                        "      240

THE MASQUE                                             "      272




 THE COLLOQUIES OF
 EDWARD OSBORNE




CHAPTER I

_A Country Lad cometh to Town_


So we left the old grey Horse at the _Tabard_, and set forth a-foot, my
Mother and me, for _London Bridge_: I looking right and left for a
Glimpse of the great, broad River. But no Water could we see; and the
Ways were thronged with Men, Horses, Carts, Wagons, Flocks of Sheep, and
Droves of Oxen, pressing along between Stalls set out with all manner of
Cates. Anon we come to a big Gateway, with its Portcullis-teeth grinning
over our Heads; and a-top of this Gateway, that was flanked with
Turrets, and spanned the Road, were ever so many round, dark Objects,
set on Poles, leaning this Way and that; and my Mother shuddered when
she saw them, and told me they were Traitors' Heads. But between us and
this Gateway lay a Draw-bridge, the which, as we crossed, gave us a
Glimpse of the broad _Thames_, all a-blaze in the Sun. I pluckt at my
Mother's Sleeve, without speaking, and we looked over the Parapet, and
could see Boats ducking and diving under a Row of Houses right across
the River, some of 'em six Stories high, with Balconies and projecting
Gables, looking ready to topple into the Water, that rushed onward with
tremendous Force, eddying and foaming among the Arches. Then I noted at
the Foot of each Pier, strange Projections of Timber-work, and askt my
Mother what they were, and she could not tell me. But a Man that
overheard me said they were called Sterlings, and were strong Piles of
Wood driven into the Bed of the River. Also he told me the Bridge was
sixty Feet above the Water, and that its Founder, _Peter_ of
_Colechurch_, lay y-buried in the Chapel on the Bridge; and more he
would have added but for the Interposure of my Mother, who said, "Come,
Child, we linger," and drew me away. Then we passed under the Gateway,
which was also a Kind of Guard-house, and Toll-gate; and, quod she, "Now
thou art on _London Bridge_." But I should never have found it out; for
to all Seeming, we were in midst of an ill-paved, exceeding narrow
Strete, only some twelve Feet across, with Frippery-shops, and such-like
on either Side. A great, o'erloaded Wagon that went first, cleared the
Way for us, filling the Space all across; but anon it meeteth another
Wagon, even higher than itself, with a Terrier barking a-top; and, the
one essaying to pass the other, their Headgear got entangled in the
Outworks of the upper Stories of two opposite Houses, and I saw the
Terrier jump into an Attick Window, and presently run forth of the Shop
below. Then the Wagoners chode and reviled, for one of 'em must needs
back off the Bridge, and some Sheep and Oxen were coming up behind; and
the Foot-passengers jostled and jibed, and Shopkeepers looked forth of
their Doors, and Wives and Maids from their Lattices, and Swarms of
quick-eyed mischievous favoured Lads peered forth of every Bulk; and my
Mother cried, "Oh! weary on them! we may bide here all Night!" ... when,
looking hard on the Shop to our left, she sayth, "Why here's the _Golden
Fleece_!"

And so we made bold to enter, between a few Rolls of brown and gray
Cloth; and found Master _Hewet_ seated behind a Desk, holding a Pen, but
not using it, discoursing with a sober-apparelled Friend, and ever and
anon casting a quiet amused Look at the Turmoil on the Bridge. He was
what I then counted a middle-aged, but should now reckon a youngish Man,
somewhere betwixt thirty and forty Years of Age, of a good Presence and
a piercing but pleasant Eye; and with that in his Carriage and Looks
that discovered he had Something within him beyond the common, that
tended to excite Affection and Veneration. So soon as his Eye lighted
pleasantly upon us, "Surely, thou art the Widow _Osborne_!" quod he to
my Mother, "and this, by his Favour, I am sure is the Son of mine old
School-mate. He will, I trust, prove of as good Conditions."

And, putting down his Pen, he quickly led the Way into a pleasant
Chamber at the Back, o'erlooking the River, wherein, a watering of some
Flowers on the Window-sill, was a middle-aged Gentlewoman, clad in
Black, of a benign Aspect, a mild hazel Eye, and a Tinct that had more
of the Pearl than the Peach in it. "Sister _Fraunces_," quod Master
_Hewet_, "here is Mistress _Osborne_;" whereon the Gentlewoman turned
about and spake courteouslie unto my Mother, whom she made to sit down
and take Wine and Spiced-bread; while I, as a mannerly Youth, stood in
Presence of mine Elders. Then sayth my Mother to Master _Hewet_, "I
come, Sir, in answer to your considerate Letter, to put my Boy in your
Charge:—he's but country-bred, though a good Lad, and come of a good
Stock ... not only born of a Woman, but taught of a Woman, alas
that I should say so! save for his School-teaching." "Marry, his
Brother-prentice, then, is one of another Feather," saith Master
_Hewet_, smiling, "we shall see which turns out best. Leave your Son
with me; and at the End of a Month or so, when he hath looked at the
Trade a little, we will decide whether or no to have him bound." "Alas,
Sir!" saith my Mother, with lengthened Face, "may not all be done now? I
have two small Children at Home, mine Absence is untimeous, and
Travelling is strange to me—I have the Fee ready, the Boy is willing,
and you cannot choose but be satisfied with his Conditions, for the Lad
is a good Lad, though 'tis his Mother that says so."

"Well," saith Master _Hewet_, after a little Thought, "the Course is
uncommon, for we mainly like to prove a Youth and see whether he be
likely to do Good at the Trade, and be a profitable and desirable
Apprentice before we bind him; but since your Case is in some Respects
singular, it shall be as you say; for, as it happens, this is one of the
Days on which the Court and Master sit to bind and enroll 'Prentices."
So forth we went: he making Way for my Mother, and I following last.

On our Way to _Mincheon Lane_, we fell in with an uproarious Rabble,
that, with Shouts, were haling Somewhat through the Mud, which proved to
be a Church Image; doubtless, just pulled down from its Niche. The Head
was rare carven, and floridly painted after the Life; but the Trunk was
nothing but a squared Block, with a Cross-piece for the Shoulders, and
looked pitiful enow, now 'twas despoiled of its rich Clothing. An
Ale-house Keeper at the Bridge end turned in-doors with Disgust at the
Sight, which some of the Rabblement noting, they cried out, "Here's a
Bone for you to pick, Sir _Tobias_!" and beset his Door. I afterwards
learned he was an ejected Roman Catholic Parson.

When we reached the _Clothworkers' Hall_, the Clerk made out my
Indentures; and then I was taken before the Master to be enrolled.

My Mother having paid the Fee, (Spoon-silver they jocosely called it,)
unto Master _Hewet_, he did not pocket it, but put it into the
Common-box: and the Business was done; my Master exchanging some
pleasant Words with the Master of the Company, and the latter bidding me
(in the only Sentence he spoke to me), mind the Clothworkers'
Motto,—"_My Trust is in God alone_."

Then, my Mother and I took Leave of one another, aside, as 'twere, in
the Doorway; for she was to lie that Night in _Temstrete_, at her Cousin
_Hale's_, (who was a _Broughton_,) and return to _Ashford_ on the
Morrow. And she kissed me and wept sore, and sayth, "Ah Son, thou art
full young to be cast out of the Nest ... fain I were to keep thee: but
what though? Thou canst not always be at mine Apron-string, and thou
hast a brave Spirit and a good Heart; wherefore, like _Hannah_, Wife of
_Elkanah_, I will entrust my First-born unto the LORD, and see what he
will do for thee.... And remember, _Ned_, thou art the Son of a
Gentleman, and think the Eye of thy Father still upon thee."

Then quod I, in answer to my Mother, "Cheer up, sweet _Mother_, I will
never disgrace him nor thee: so give over thy weeping, lest they should
deem the Tears on my Face to be mine instead of thine ... don't melt me,
_Mother_, lest they count me but a Boy, and make light of our Country
Breeding."

"A Boy, indeed! What art thou more?" quod she, smiling through her
Tears; and with one hearty Kiss and her Blessing, went her Ways.

On our Return to my Master's House, he, noting my Hair to be too long
for a 'Prentice, (for, indeed, my Mother was rather vain of it,) gave me
a Penny, and sent me to Master _Soper_ the Barbitonsor, across the
Bridge, to have it clipt. Here found I a Man having his Beard trimmed,
and another, waiting for his Turn, playing a Mandoline. Seeing me look
forth of the Lattice on the River, boiling and splashing below, and the
Boats shooting the Arches and nearly pitching Head foremost down the
Fall, he stayed his Hand, and told me how many Lives were lost in those
Rapids by the Year. Then I made bold to ask him what was that great
Fortress with Towers, on the north Bank.

"Thou art a Stranger in _London_, then," saith he, "for every Cockney
knows the _Tower_, whose foundation Stones were cemented, they say, with
Mortar tempered with Blood. And truly, Blood enow hath been spilt within
it to bring a Judgment on its Walls. _Henry_ the _Sixth_ was murdered in
the _Tower_, _George_ of _Clarence_ was drowned in the _Tower_, _Edward_
the _Fifth_ and _Richard_ Duke of _York_, those pretty Innocents, were
smothered in the _Tower_, _Anne Boleyn_ and _Katherine Howard_ were
beheaded in the _Tower_. And, for all it hath held a King's Parliament,
and is our Citadel of Defence, a royal Palace for Assemblies, a
Council-house for Treaties, a Treasury of Crown Jewels, the royal Mint
of Coinage, the prime Conservator of Records, and the Armoury of warlike
Provisions, yet, for the Tears and the Blood that have been shed in it,
I could say, Down with it, down with it even unto the Ground! And
methinks its evil Story is not yet wound up, but that a dark Cloud hangs
over it e'en now. We shall see! we shall see! Many an ignoble Man rises
aloft, many a proud Man is brought low. 'Tis time enough at one's Life's
end to sing Gloria. Ah! our Bridge Tower, whereof I am Gate-keeper, hath
another guess Foundation than _Cæsar's_; for on every one of its four
Corner-stones is graven the Name of JESUS; _deep, but out of Sight_."

And he peered into my Face as he spake that Saying, to wit if I felt its
Force.

"And now my Turn hath come to be trimmed," quod he, "so thou mayst thrum
the Mandoline."

When I went back, there was a Man with a Burthen leaving the Shop; and
my Master saith, "Follow this Porter to Master _Askew's_ in
_Candlewickstrete_, and bring home my little Daughter, who hath been
spending the Forenoon at her Godfather's." So I went with the
Porter, and on reaching _Candlewickstrete_, which was not full of
Tallow-chandlers' Shops, but of Drapers, he shewed me Master _Askew's_
House; and I entered and found him in Parley with a Man in a red Coat.
Quod he, "Well, I suppose my Lord must have it, but I like not the
Security;" and handed him over a heavy Bag that seemed full of Money.
Said the Man in Red, stowing the Bag under his Coat, "You were best not
offend my Lord, for I warrant the Loss of his Custom would make you the
worse by a pretty Penny." "Tut!" cries the other, "we could better
afford to lose the Court than the Court to lose the City." On which,
they parted. "Who art thou, my Lad?" quod he. "I'm my Master's new
'Prentice," quod I, "come to fetch Mistress _Anne_." "Ah!" quod he,
"then you're from Master _Hewet_, though you speak as if there were but
one Master in the World.... _Anne!_ sweet _Anne_!"

And, at his Call, there runneth in a fair little Gentlewoman, about six
Years of Age. Sure, never was seen so sweet a Child! Master _Askew_
caught her up in his Arms and gave her many Kisses, and told her she
must return with me; whereon she came and placed her Hand in mine, in
full Assurance of Faith. A Gentlewoman, not much turned of thirty,
personable, and of the Complexion they call sanguine, followed her
forth, with many Injunctions to tell her Father how good she had been,
and giving her, at parting, a Piece of sweet Marchpane.

In the Strete, we were so beshoved about, that Mistress _Anne_ presently
made Request of me to carry her. So I took her up and set her on my
Shoulder, and bade her hold on by my Hair; which she was pleased to say
was shorter than mine Ears, or even than mine Eyelashes. And, in seeking
to admeasure them, she nearly toppled down; so then I said if she were
going to be unruly, besides blinding me with the Crumbs of her
Marchpane, I must set her in the Stokkes. To which she made Answer,
"Then you must put both my Feet into one Hole; and even then I shall
slip them out." Thus prettily she prattled all the Way, till I told her
I thought my Hair was at least shorter than her Tongue. When we reached
my Master's Door, I was passing it unawares, when she lugged at mine
Hair and cried, "Stop, Boy, stop; you must set me down." I said, "Then
you must give me a Kiss." She sayth, "Humph, I've no Objection;" which I
thought very funny and very pretty in so young a little Gentlewoman.

It was now Supper-time; and, my Fellow-'prentice being out, Mistress
_Fraunces_ shewed me how to lay the Cloth, set forth the Spoons, &c.,
and told me that London 'Prentices stood behind their Master's Chair at
Meal Times. Just as _Tib_ the Cook had set the Dishes on the Table,
there entereth a hale, aged Man, white headed, with a merry Eye, and a
thin Cheek besprent with lively red. My Master hailed him with Zest,
crying, "Ha! Master _Cheke_! 'tis of long Time since we met! How fareth
it with thee, Master _Cheke_? Come in, Man, come in and sup with us,
and, if thou wilt, lie to-night in the Green Lattice; there's the old
Bed made up."

"Old Bed!" quod the other, jocularly; is anything old fit to be offered
to me that am so young and so fine? What though I'm from the Country,
have I not Friends at Court? Marry, Man, my Kinsman is the King's
Sub-tutor, and I've had Speech of him this Day."

"If you are too fine for old Friends, I have no more to say to you,"
quod Master _Hewet_, heartily, and taking his Place at Table, while his
Visitor and Mistress _Fraunces_ did the same. "You can't be _our_ Master
_Cheke_.... Now then, Sir, boiled or roast? You see, though 'tis
_Friday_, we are not quite so scrupulous as we were wont of old Time, in
regard to a broiled Bone or so ... here's nothing from salt Water save a
Dish of Prawns."

"And very pretty Picking," sayth Master _Cheke_, "for a Man that hath
had one Supper already off a King's Leavings ... for, you see, the
pretty Boy goes to Bed at eight o' the Clock. What a young Miracle 'tis!
A very Saint, Sir! excelling any _Edward_ hath been canonized. Marry, my
Kinsman said I should have seene the sweet Child blush, when 'twas told
him he was King; and then fall a weeping for his Father, whom,
peradventure, none other loved soe purely; for Love kindles Love, they
say, and, of a Surety, if the old King loved any one, he loved _him_."

"Then, his Grace's Speech on his Crownation-day," quod Mistress
_Fraunces_. "They brought him the three Swords, for the three Kingdoms.
'There ought to be yet another,' quod he, looking about; 'bring me a
Bible.' When 'twas brought,—'This,' saith he, 'is the Sword of the
Spirit; as the other three are the Swords of our Temporal Dominions: by
them we govern, by this we must be governed, and under this we ought to
live, to fight, to rule, and to guide all our Affairs.' A marvellous
Saying for a Boy of nine Year old!"

"Ah! I dare say my Kinsman put him up to it," said Master _Cheke_, "but
indeed 'twas well rehearsed and well remembered."

"Nay, I like not to hear the Credit of a good Thing taken away from its
proper Owner in that Way," quod Mistress _Fraunces_ somewhat warmly.
"Why should we say, 'Such an One was prompted?' 'such a Thing was
forecast?' Doubtless, we all get our Teaching ... from ourselves or
others; and some few, I think, be Heaven-taught."

"Well, well," quod Master _Cheke_, shelling his Prawns; "'twas a pretty
Word, we all must own. How he chode with his Nurse, e'en in the Nursery,
for standing on a Bible to reach Somewhat off a Shelf!"

"And that was before he learned Lip wisdom of Master _Cheke_," quod
Mistress _Fraunces_. "However, Sir, I disparage not your Kinsman, though
I will not hear you disparage the King. Honour to whom Honour is due."

I saw an almost imperceptible uprising of Master _Cheke's_ Eyebrows at
this, as though he were inwardly saying, "Place to Ladies:" howbeit,
Mistress _Fraunces_ kept her Ground, and, I thought, becomingly. She
thought so too, and mentioned afterwards that she had given it to him
roundly.

Master _Hewet_ was diverting the Discourse, when a Cry without of
"Clubs! Clubs!" was followed by a Shrilling and Screaming like Swifts
round a Steeple, and an uproarious Hallooing and Whooping all along the
Bridge. Master _Cheke_ started up, and then re-seated himself,
muttering, "Young Rascallions!"

"And yet," quod Master _Hewet_, "they are the Stuff our sober
substantial Citizens are made of. Oh, Sir, I don't mind speaking freely
before my 'Prentice Lads. They will hear no dangerous Matter from me,
and cannot be too early made to feel that we are all one Family. Let
them be merry and wise; the Error is in aiming to be one without the
other."

I would I could call to Mind othermuch that was said: howbeit, I was
young and new to Service, and had not yet attained unto the Facility
which practised Servitors have of noting each Thing said, hinted, or so
much as looked at Table, while attending to such Orders as "The Mustard,
_Osborne_" ... and so forth.

But, or ever they had well sate down, Mistress _Anne_ had run in to wish
good Night; and, contriving to tarry, had remained awhile at Master
_Hewet's_ Knee, noting all was done and said. And when, referring to
some of the King's Council, Master _Cheke_ said, "They are new to their
Work, but will take kindly to it presently," she softly sayth, "Like our
new 'Prentice!" which made all laugh.

When Master _Cheke_ had departed, and the Day's Work and Prayer were
ended, Mistress _Fraunces_ said she would sit up for _Miles
Hackathrift_, who was out too late, and bade me go to Bed, for that she
saw I was weary: (and indeed I had ridden the Pillion twenty Mile that
Morning.) Wherefore I thankfully crept up to the Loft a-top of the
House, wherein were two Tressel-beds; and no sooner lay down than I was
asleep; and might have slept all Night without so much as turning; but
by and by I was arouzed by the Light of a Lanthorn held close to mine
Eyes, which opened, somewhat dazed, on a red, swollen Face, that had too
little Brow and too much Cheek and Chin. Then a surly Voice sayth, "So
thou's the new 'Prentice, it seemeth! Good so! how prettily thy Mother
in the Country hath had thine Hair cut!" I said, "It was cut in Town,
not in the Country.—Go away, and take the Light out of mine Eyes, I
pr'ythee.... I think thou hast been drinking Something stronger than
small Ale, and hast broken thine Indenture." ... "Then I'll brake
Something else," quod he; and gave me a Bang on the Head with his
Lanthorn, that put the Candle out. Thereafter he had to go to Bed in the
Dark; but I wot not if he grumbled thereat, so soon fell I again on
Sleep, too weary to resent his Malefices.




CHAPTER II

_First Day of a London 'Prentice his Life_


Thou mayest marvel, _Hew_, that I remember so well the minutest
Circumstances of that, my first Day on the Bridge; but by Reason of a
young, quick Apprehensiveness of Novelty, I remember that Day better
than any other (but one) in the Year; and that Year better than many
that came after it.

Early as I rose the next Morning, it would seem that some one was yet
earlier than I; for my Master's large Bible lay open on the Table, as
though some one had been a reading it. And, whereby my good Mother had
early taught me, during the Famine of GOD'S Word, to snatch a Mouthful
of it whenever it came in my Way, albe it were but a single Sentence to
chew the Cud upon pleasantly at my Work, I cast mine Eye upon the Page,
and lighted by Hap on the Saying, "Whatsoever thine Hand findeth to do,
_do it with thy Might_,"—when my Master's Hand was laid upon my
Shoulder, and made me start.

"My Lad," quod he, "a Mind sequestering itself to the Exercises of
Piety, lies very open to the farther Discoveries of divine Light and
Love, and invites CHRIST to come and dwell in it." I louted low, to
thank him for his Grace, albeit it seemed to me he took me for a better
and wiser Lad than I was. But good Praise takes root and spreads; and
there was no great Damage in his giving me a little more Credit than I
deserved; inasmuch as we are not born good, but made good.

Thereafter, Master _Hewet_ taketh me to the very topmost Floor of our
House, next the 'Prentices' Loft, and openeth a creaking Door; whereon
we enter a low, longish Attick, containing two Looms, at one of which
sate a Man weaving. There was a Lattice almost the entire Length of the
Attick, looking down upon the bright shining _Thames_, then sparkling in
the Morning Sun, and all in a Tremble beneath a smart Breeze, while
heavy Barges and light Boats full of Garden Stuff for the Markets were
passing to and fro. The Chamber, though abject to look at, was
delightsome to look from; and the Air was so clear that I could see a
Housewife in a Stamel Petticoat cheapening Neats' Feet on the
_Bankside_, and the _Easterlings_ unloading their Cargoes at the
_Steelyard_. But the Man at the Loom had no Eye for these Things; he
seemed not much under fifty Years of Age, and had a pale, pain-worn
Face, and patient, gentle, though not happy Aspect. A Blackbird in a
Wicker Cage hung at the open Window; there were some two or three old
Books on a Shelf, and a dozen Flowerpots or so on a little Ledge outside
the Attick, between the Roofs, which was railed in and made into a Sort
of little Garden.

"Here's a Man, now," quod my Master to me in a low Voice, "hath so
little Care for aught beyond these four Walls, as never e'en to have
spared Time to look on _Fisher's_ Head at the Bridge End all the While
the Strete was so thronged with the gazing Rabble as that scarcely a
Horse nor Cart could pass. Nor do I believe he would have cast a Look up
at poor Sir _Thomas More_, save on his Way to the Burreller's. A fair
Morning, _Tomkins_!"

"A fair Morning, as you say, Master," returned _Tomkins_, "I wish you
Joy of it."

"Here's your new Scholar," quod my Master; "you will set him going, and
are scarce likely to find him more awkward than _Miles_."

"I hope I shall find him a good Deal less so, and less froward, too, or
I sha'n't count him good for much," quod _Tomkins_, turning about, and
looking hard at me. "I like his Face, Master," quod he.

"Here, give him the Shuttle, and let us see how he will handle it," quod
Master _Hewet_.

"Not mine, he may have _Miles's_," interposed _Tomkins_, rising with
some Difficulty and going to the other Loom; and I then observed he was
very Lame. "Here, Lad, see, this is the Way," quod he.

So I tried, awkwardly enough, and made them both laugh; and laughed too.
But I went to it with a Will, and anon they said I was mending.

"_Miles_ might have done an Hour's Work by this Time," observed
_Tomkins_, "but I've seen nought of him."

"Because Mistress _Fraunces_ hath sent him to _Trolop's_ Milk-farm for
Curds and Cream," quod my Master; "don't be hard upon him."

"I wish he may not do what he did, the last Time I sent him of an
Errand," quod _Tomkins_ dryly—"tarry by the Way to see a Horse-dealer
hanged."

"That would have spoiled my Relish for Curds and Cream," quod Master
_Hewet_, "I think he must have returned ere this—_Ned_ shall bring up
your Breakfast, _Tomkins_."

As we went down, "Do all thou canst, _Ned_," quod my Master, "in the Way
of small Kindnesses, for that poor Journeyman Freeman.—A few Years
since, a Horse trod upon his Foot and lamed him for Life. My Wife, who
was his Foster-sister, and felt a Kindness for him, had him here to
nurse; and, by the Time he had recovered as much as he was ever likely
to do, he had become so fond of us and of his Attick, that, albeit our
Ordinances are somewhat stringent against Master Clothworkers keeping
Weavers at Journeywork in their own Houses, the Wardens have overlooked
it in his Case, and let him abide on Sufferance. And though I don't
expect to make my Fortune by any Weaving I get out of you or _Miles_,
and have indeed Plenty of very different Work for you, yet 'tis well you
should know somewhat of the Practice of your Craft, and I look to you to
attend to it whenever you would otherwise be in Idleness."

When we reached the Ground-floor, there was Mrs. _Fraunces_ buying Roses
and Gilly-flowers at the Door, which she afterwards set in Midst of the
Breakfast-table; for 'twas a notable Way of hers I always observed from
the first, to contrive to give e'en the simplest Meal the Air of a
little Banquet, whether by a Posy, a Dish of Fruit, or whatever it might
chance, to grace her plain, plenteous Providings.

The first Note I had of _Miles Hackathrift_ being at Hand, was when I
returned from carrying up to _Tomkins_ his fried Fish and Bracket. He
came behind me, took me by the Shoulders, and gave me a smart shaking.

"Come, now," quod I, when he had done, "art thou going to be civil or
troublesome?"

"Troublesome," replied he decidedly.

"Oh! well," quod I, "then we shall not come to a good Understanding, it
seems, till I have given you a Beating; but for your Sake I'll put it
off as long as I can."

"Your Time is mine, sir," quod he, "don't be in a Hurry, nor yet put it
off too long. The smallest Favour shall be cheerfully accepted."

"Ah," quod I, "if that were a true Word of yours, how pleasantly we
might get on together."

"Pleasantly! quite the other Way, I think," quod he. "Why, quarrelling's
the very Spice of Life!"

"Keep Spice for rich Men's Tables, then," quod I, "I can eat my
Breakfast very well without it."

"Ah!" saith he, "you've been brought up by your Mother!"

"And what if I have?" quod I quickly.

"_Have_ you, though?" quod he, laughing. "Marry, you have now told Tales
of yourself! Though I could have guessed it."

"May there never be a worse Tale to tell of you," quod I. "How mean
you?" quod he, bristling up. "Just what I say and no more," quod I; "my
meaning is full simple, I think." "Like yourself, then," quod he; "I
don't believe you could say Bo! to a Goose." "Nor Pruh! to a Cow,
perhaps," quod I. "Lads! Lads! be quiet there!" cries Mistress
_Fraunces_ from the Parlour.

"What would be the Effect of that, though?" quod _Miles_, without
minding her, as soon as he had done Coughing by reason of a Fish-bone
that stuck in his Throat. "To set them scampering," quod I, "as I did
one Day, into the midst of a Pleasure Party." "Ha, ha, ha!" cries he,
"I'll try that in _Trolop's_ Fields; there are Lots of Cows there, and
Pleasure Parties too on Summer Evenings. Lovers and Loveresses, a eating
of Curds and Whey!"

—"Really, Brother," saith Mistress _Fraunces_, the next Time my Master
went into the Parlour,—for though her Voice was low and sweet, it was
so distinct that oft-times I could not help hearing what she was
saying,—"truly, Brother, those Boys of yours wrangle so when they're
together, that it is Misery to hear them."

"Boys will be Boys," quod he, peaceifyingly, "I was one myself a long
while ago. However, if they have said anything punishable, I must beat
them; but, if not, put a little Cotton Wool into your Ears, Sister
_Fraunces_."

"Nay," quod she, relenting, "there was nothing punishable in aught they
said; and, as to getting them a Beating, they'll give each other enough
of that, I'm thinking. 'Twas such give and take, snip and snap, parry
and thrust, as that I could scarce forbear laughing."

"Don't stop your Ears with Cotton Wool, then," quod my Master cheerily,
for a hearty Laugh is worth a Groat. "They'll have little Time for
Fighting, this Morning, for I have Plenty for them to do."

Despite of this, however, _Miles_ found Time for a little more "snip and
snap," as Mistress _Fraunces_ called it, before Dinner. Seeing me start
forth on an Errand as he returned from one, he quietly saith in passing,
"See how pretty he looks with his Cap on!" whereon it struck me that
every 'Prentice Boy I had seen running about had gone bareheaded; and,
smiling, I put my Cap in my Pocket.

In those Times, _Hew_, the Saturday Afternoon was somewhat between a
Holiday and a holy Day. People went to Evening Service at three o'Clock,
and, after that, there was no Business done, save in preparation for the
Sabbath; and thoughtful People enjoyed an holy Pause, and young light
Hearts took their Pastime.

_Miles_, with Mischief in his Eye, proposed to me a Row on the River,
which I, nothing afeard, agreed to, for I had been in a Punt aforetime,
if not in a Wherry. He refused the Aid of a Waterman, saying lightly,
"This young Gentleman knows the Use of a Scull;" and, running hastily
along the Boat to secure the Stroke-oar, his Foot tripped against a
Thwart, and he lost his Balance and fell into the River. I guessed where
he would come up, and, sitting on the further Gunnel to trim the Boat,
held the Oar to him, and guided his Hand to the Side, which enabled him
to scramble in. The Watermen, who had run down to us as soon as they saw
him fall over, laughed when they saw him safe, and cheered me; and he,
looking rather foolish, sayth, "Well, I told them thou knewest the Use
of a Scull." I asked him which Way we should pull; howbeit, he was so
drenched that he must needs go Home to change his Clothes, and bade me
give the Waterman a Penny, saying he had not so much as a _Genoa_
Halfpenny about him just then to buy a Custard at Mother _Mampudding's_.
When he had changed his Under-garments, and hung his Gown at the Kitchen
Fire, he amused himself by dropping Pellets from the Window on the
People in the Boats that shot the Arch beneath; and _Tib_, with her Head
stretched forth of the other Half of the Lattice, offered to Rehearse
unto me the Name and Calling of every Dweller on the Bridge, from the
Parson and Clerk at the one End, to the old Lady that lived all alone by
herself with her Cats at the other. Howbeit, _Miles_, tiring of waiting
for his Gown to dry, put on another, and bade me bear him Company to
_Finsbury Fields_. But first he lay in Wait behind the Door, and then
stole subtilly forth, like a Cat that had been stealing Cream; and on my
asking him why, he laughed and said, only that Mistress _Fraunces_ might
not see him in his Sunday-gown of a Saturday, for that would be contrary
to Rules and Regulations.

 [Illustration: J.Jellicoe
 "Held the oar to him"]

Arrived at _Finsbury Fields_ I saw what was certainly the finest and
busiest Sight I had ever yet seen in my Life; which indeed is not saying
much. The Fields themselves were open and pleasant, with plenty of
Windmills in full Rotation in the Distance; their white Sails playing
afore a dark Rain-cloud; and the Stretes that led to them beyond _Moor
Gate_, full of Shops kept by Bowyers, Fletchers, and Stringers. Here, on
the open Ground, we found, I say not Crowds, but Shoals of lithe and
limber 'Prentices; and of athletic Freemen, too, and grave and weighty
Citizens, where was Room for all—with Archers' Butts set up in various
Directions; and an infinite Number of the finest young Men the City
could turn out, practising at them with their long Bows; none of them
being allowed to shoot at a Mark nearer than eleven score Yards. Numbers
of the Masters, standing by, were watching, encouraging, and applauding
them, to their great Increase of Emulation. Others again were using
their Wasters and Bucklers, others kicking the Football; in the more
open Ground, Citizens' Sons were racing on Horseback, and some of them
practising Feats of War; others were wrestling, leaping, and casting the
Stone. And on every Hand, Venders of Cakes and Suckets. On the Field, we
came unawares upon Master _Hewet_, who spake us kindly, and noted not
the Matter of _Miles'_ Sunday-gown. And so the Day ended.

As we went Home, _Miles_ told me how the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs
were accustomed on St. _Bartholomew's_ Day to see the City Officers
wrestle with all Comers, at a set Place in _Clerkenwell_; and, two or
three Days after, to witness the shooting of the broad Arrow, both of
which I thought I should much delight to behold; but was quite unfit for
when the Time came; as thou, in due Course, shalt know.




CHAPTER III

_Ye Disposition & Economy of Master Hewet's House_


My Master's House had six Stories, the lowest of which was sixty Feet
above the River. First came the Kitchen, which, being partly sunk in the
Arch, might, if not in a Bridge, have been counted parcel-underground.
It had a Casement just over the Key-stone, and no thorough Draught; the
Larder being a Lean-to or Afterthought, stuck outside like a Bird's Nest
against the Wall. Level with the Strete lay the Shop, with a small
Ware-room or Writing-closet adjoining; and, behind it, three Steps above
it by Reason of the Kitchen beneath, the common Sitting-room,
overlooking the River. A narrow, steep Stair led to the Floor above,
which had Mistress _Fraunces's_ Sleeping-chamber, wherein lay Mistress
_Anne_, over the Shop, and a Summer-parlour, which for that it had a
Balcony over the River, commonly went by the Name of the Balcony Room.
It was hung with blue Buckram; and, by Reason of its Pleasantness,
Mistress _Fraunces_ made it her chief Sitting-room, while Mistress
_Anne_ played with her Dolls. Also there was a Closet wherein lay _Tib_.
Above this was a large Chamber that covered the whole Floor from Front
to Back, with a Window at either End; and, because of its projecting and
overlapping the Floor below, was sundry Feet the longer: this Room was
wonderful pleasant, and commonly called the Green Lattice, or
Lattice-room, from having a large green Lattice that overlooked the
_Thames_. In my Master's early married Days, which he was wont to say
had been, like those of many a young Husband, his poorest and happiest,
he had been glad to let off this Chamber to a Lodger.—His Father dying,
and leaving him Money, he left the retail for wholesale Business, gave
up his Lodger, and used the best Chamber himself; but with Wealth came,
as usual, a Counterpoise: his Wife died untimely in this same Chamber;
whereon he conceived a Dislike of it; and Mistress _Fraunces_ then
coming to reside with him and occupying his old Quarters, he mounted up
to the fourth Story, to a Room that o'erlooked the Strete. Above this
was _Tomkins_' Attick, and, last of all, our Loft. The Wind whistled
fearsomely up there, o' Nights, and made the Walls rock round us; not
that there was often any one wakeful enough to mind it.

In the Green Lattice, though unoccupied, there stood a carven Oak Bed,
with dark green Hangings, lined with yellow Fustian, and Linen a Miracle
for Whiteness, ready for any chance Guest. I thought, boy-like, as I
glanced in, passing up and down, 'twas fit for the Sleeping Beauty to
lie in during her Trance of a hundred Years. There was a great Jar of
dead Rose-leaves, that smelt rarely; and I always had the Notion they
had been gathered by Mistress _Anne's_ Mother. I wondered, with a
strange yet pleasing Awe, whether her Ghost ever walked here, now that
her little Girl passed Hours in the Room by herself, singing over her
Dolls; and thought it might perhaps steal softly in and keep about her
when we little wisted.

_Tib_, the Cook, made and kept but few Friends. She was turned of Forty,
and had a notable scorched Face, that looked like a Kitchen Fire. Also
she was a Woman of much Thirst, both for Ale and News; and would have
been counted a notable cleanly Woman, had she not been so dirty. For
Example, she would set the House afloat with Bucketfuls of cold Water,
till only _Noah's_ Dove could have found Rest for the Sole of its Foot;
and yet, the next Minute, would fling a Tub-full of Dish-water straight
into the River, on the Heads of any Passengers that might hap to be
shooting the Arch. She got into Trouble, once or twice, for this.

Now, when I fell into my daily Course, Part of my Time was spent under
the Eye of my Master, and within hearing of his pleasant Talk, Part in
running about the Town, and Part with _Tomkins_; so that I was happy
from Morning to Night. For, _Miles_ not being fond of waiting upon the
poor lame Journeyman, I made it a Labour of Love; and he, being a
tender-spirited Man, very sensitive to small Kindnesses, took hugely to
me, as I shortly did to him. He had a busy Mind that was always at Work,
and his Occupation leaving him much Leisure for Headwork, he was always
chewing the Cud upon this or that Problem he had conned at odd Minutes
out of his old Books, or brooding upon Mysteries that were harder to
crack, and less safe for an unlearned Man to meddle with. Also he had a
mechanical Turn, which he exercised at what he called his Play Hours,
thereby only exchanging one hard Work for another; but he was so fond of
it that I was always glad to see his little File and Pincers in his
Hand. Thus it came to pass, that he never cared to stir from his Attick
into the World beneath, (though I found, afterwards, he generally
contrived to creep out somewhere on Sundays when we were all in Church,)
for, he said, Air he had plenty of, Exercise was a Misery to him, and as
for Company, had he not all he cared for, already? A few kind Words from
Master _Hewet_, continual Chat with me, a bright Glimpse of Mistress
_Anne_, and a Visit now and then from Mistress _Fraunces_, were all he
had and all he liked. For Mistress _Fraunces_ he had a wonderful Respect
and even Admiration; commending her gentle Temper, womanly Carriage, and
pleasant Voice; and bidding me note, (which I did on his naming,) that
she had, for her Years, the finest Hand that a Woman was ever graced
with. I said I wondered she had never married. He said, "Aye, indeed,
what can the Men have been about?" with a little Smile that I did not
feel to be quite respectful; and I wondered that even the gentle
_Tomkins_ must have his Fling at single Women.

Mistress _Fraunces_ was used to accompany my Master to the Hall Dinners;
indeed, being a Sister of the Company, she was liable to a Fine if she
did not, except by Reason of Illness. However, now and then, she stayed
away; and then, when my Master returned, she would ask him with great
Interest what had been served up; and, being a shrewd Marketer, would
price each Item as he went along: thus,—

"Well, Brother, and what did you have to-day?"

"Why," saith he, "there was a Porpoise, to begin with."

"A Porpoise!" then cries she, "oh! what a nasty coarse Fish! They are
seldom or never now seen at Table. Well, what else?"

"Two Congers and two Turbot."

"Ah! of course, Nobody would touch the Porpoise. Congers, the largest in
_Wetfishmongersrow_, six Shillings each, this Morning. Turbots,
three—eighteen. Well?"

"Sirloin of Beef—Half a Veal—a standing Coney with a blue Ribbon round
his Neck."

"Hold, Brother, not so fast. Beef, we all know, is a Penny a Pound—we
thank King _Harry_ for that. I saw Half a Veal to-day at Half-a-crown."

"Two dozens Pigeons."

"Two Shillings."

"Some of your _French_ Kickshaws—'_Pettiz Birds rostez_.' ... And
'_pain-puffe avec un cold bakemeat_.'"

"We have that every Sabbath," quod she, dryly, "without its fine Name. I
suppose you had Sweets."

"Oh, yes; _Leche Lombard_; Pears _en serop_; Fritters, Doucettes, and
_une grande Custard_."

"Come," saith she, "that was pretty well—enough, and no Profusion. But
the Porpoise spoiled all. And they might have given you a Swan instead
of a Coney. But stay; had you no _Mortreuse_?"

"No _Mortreuse_."

"Out on it!" quod she, "then I would not have given a Fig for your
Feast. There's nothing you had, that we can't have at Home, save
Mortreuse: I shall not rest till I know how to make it."

At this Time, every one in their House seemed, according to their
several Dispositions, peaceful and happy; e'en _Tib_, after her Manner,
whether eating a plentiful Meal, setting the House afloat, stretching
forth of the Kitchen Window in the full Tide of Gossip with the Maid
next Door, or hemming a Lockram Pinner. She and _Miles_ were Friends
to-day, Foes to-morrow. One Minute, she would be giving him a
Sop-in-the-pan; the next, basting him with the Ladle. One Day, because
he had soiled her fresh-scoured Floor with his muddy Shoes, she
protested he should clean it; they had a real, earnest Fight, which a
Man should be above having with a Woman;—and he pulled out a Lock of
her red Hair, a small one,—which she snatched up from the Floor and
pocketed, saying she would shew it to Mistress _Fraunces_. Howbeit, she
did not.

I affected a quieter Companion in the Attick; and one not without his
Teaching, for he was letterish after his Fashion, and had been in
_Paul's_ School. And, among his much used Books, there was _Lilly's_
Grammar, and even _Prudentius_ and _Lactantius_; and another, in his
Eyes worth all the Rest, calling it "real Literature," and the others
"mere Blotterature," a Joke of old Dean _Colet's_. This precious Volume
looked to me mighty dull, being full of algebraic Signs; but he earned
many a Headache over it, and gave me a Headache too, sometimes, in
trying to help him.

Pleasant Hours those were! in that quiet Attick, with the _Thames_
trembling in silver Light far below, while the Watermen clave it with
their Oars to the mellow Song of "Heave ho, rumbelow!" and "Row the
Boat, _Norman_!" The Blackbird sang as cheerily as if he were in the
green Woods of _Kent_; and ever and anon the pretty Laugh of Mistress
_Anne_ would be heard from the Green Lattice, or she would peep in and
say, "Have a Cake, _Edward_?" "Have a Cherry?" and leave her little Gift
and run away.




CHAPTER IV

_Noteworthy Deed of a Boy taught of a Woman_


I am now coming, _Hew_, to what hindered me of seeing the Shew in
_Clerkenwell_ on St. _Bartholomew's_ Day. Man proposes, but GOD
disposes: all Things are overruled for Good to them that love him—I'm
sure I found it so in this Case.

The Weather was now excessive hot: _Miles_ and I used to take Boat
whenever we had a spare Evening, and practice Swimming off _Battersea_.
Also, we sometimes bathed in _Perilous Pond_, wherein many 'Prentices
are yearly drowned; hard by the Well of Dame _Annis_ the Clear.

As for _Tomkins_, his whole Soul was in the making of the queerest Watch
that ever was seen; howbeit, clumsy as it was, he at last made it go;
though it never could keep up with St. _Magnus_' Clock.

Master _Hewet_ was anxious, one Forenoon, to communicate by Letter with
an Agent on the Point of embarquing for _Callice_. I had a Race against
Time to the Quay, sped my Errand, and returned beneath a broiling
Noon-day Sun. When I got back, I was overheated and very thirsty, and
thought I would step into the Kitchen for a Drink of cold Water. I had
pulled off my warm blue Gown to cool myself, and went into the Kitchen
with it hanging on my Arm. Leaning forth of the Lattice, according unto
her Wont, was _Tib_, a parleying with the next Door Servant; and with
her left Arm cast about the Waist of Mistress _Anne_, who sate on the
Window-sill with her Back to the River. On seeing me come in, the little
Maiden clapped her Hands, which startling _Tib_, who supposed herself
caught by Mistress _Fraunces_, she maketh no more Ado, but turns short
round in a Flurry, giving a Lurch with her left Arm that cast the pretty
Innocent headlong into the River. I remember _Tib_ squealed; but without
a second Thought, I dropped my Gown that so luckily was off, and took a
Leap that was clean sixty Feet into the River, without so much as a
Thought what I should do when I got there. I remember the Blow the Water
gave my Head, and what a Way I went down, and how I bobbed up again, as
Providence would have it, with the dear little Fondling within
Arm's-length of me, drifting towards the Fall beyond the Arch. I
clutched at her by the pretty Waist, just as the Eddy was going to suck
her in, and, striking out once or twice with the other Arm, though the
Rapids were bearing me down horribly, found myself the next Minute a
clinging on to the Sterling, without Power to climb up it, so spent was
I, and feeling as if I must lose Hold of little _Anne_ after all! I wot
not how much of the Noise I then seemed to hear was the Water singing in
mine Ears, and the Uproar of the Falls; howbeit, there were People
hallooing above and around, and my Master's Voice a-top of all, from the
Parlour Window, overhead, crying, "Hold on, _Ned_, for thy Life! we'll
save you, my brave Boy! Cling to him, _Anne_, if he can't cling to thee!"

 [Illustration: "And took a leap"]

And, before this, there had been a Roar, as if through a Speaking-trumpet,
of "Boat a-hoy!" and I heard Oars plashing fast, though I could not
spare Strength to turn my Head to see how near Help was. Then a rough,
kindly Hand laid hold of me from behind; and, finding I had no Power to
help myself, the Waterman took me under the Arms, and lifted me clean
into the Boat, with the dear little Girl hanging about my Neck. Oh! what
a Cheer there was! I heard it then, _I hear it now_: it came from around
and from above, as if GOD'S Angels were hovering over us. We were rowed
swiftly to the Landing, where there was a Press of People that mutely
fell back to make Way for Master _Hewet_, as he ran down the Stairs. For
he was greatly loved along the Bridge. He would have caught little
_Anne_ from me; but I could neither speak nor let her go; and he sayth,
"So best!" and burst forth into Tears. That sett off all the rest; and
when some one afterwards said, "Wherefore cheered ye him not when he
came a-land?" another made Answer, "How could we? all were in Tears." So
I went along, carrying little _Anne_, still fast to my Neck, with her
Cheek close pressed to mine, and they said, "It's all right, it's his
Triumph." But I thought not so much of any Triumph, just then, as how
thankful I was to GOD. When we got to the House, Mistress _Fraunces_
took the poor, drenched Innocent from mine Arms; and Master _Hewet_,
taking me round the Neck, absolutely kissed me. Which was a memorable
Thing for a Master to do by his 'Prentice. Only, you see, I had saved
his Daughter.

Well, that Evening was spent betwixt laughing and crying—scolding
_Tib_, and _Tib's_ saying she must leave, and Mistress _Fraunces_ saying
no one would take her with such a Character as she must give her; and
then my Master interfering and saying she must go for a While at least,
to her Friends, till he could endure the Sight of her, and then _Tib_
crying and saying she had got no Friends, and his relenting and saying,
Well, then she must stay till she could get another Place, and keep out
of his Sight all she could, and never do so any more. Then came Supper,
I waiting on my Master, and Mistress _Anne_ nestled in his Arms in a
warm Wrapper, for she said if she went to Bed she should dream of
falling into the Water. And my Master liked to feel he had her safe, and
she and I exchanged many fond Looks; and we grew merry. For Master
_Hewet_ filled me a Cup from a long, narrow-necked Bottle of some
marvellous pleasant Wine, and Mistress _Fraunces_ helped us all round to
a Cake that had ne'er its like for Richness; and there were People
dropping in to inquire, and bewail, and felicitate. So the Bottle was
soon emptied; and when I went to Bed, my Head was in a Maze, and my
Temples beating like Blacksmiths' Hammers. As for Sleep!—whenever it
came nigh me, bang went mine Head against the Water!—and I rose up with
a great Start. While, as long as I lay awake, I heard (and saw too, with
mine Eyes ever so close shut), People cheering and crying and casting
Ropes, and leaning out of Lattices, and rowing Boats that made no Way;
and felt _Anne's_ Arm slipping from my Neck, and I with no Strength to
hold her; and, through and above all, the great Bell of St. _Magnus_
clanging and tolling, through the livelong Night.

But, what was very marvellous, when Morning came at last, and, I
suppose, I awoke, though it seemed me I had never fallen on Sleep, ...
there was I, not in the Loft, but in the Green Lattice Chamber, lying on
that beautiful Bed I thought fit for the Sleeping Beauty! And there was
a Chirurgeon with a Lancet in his Hand, and there were Basins and
Bandages, and my left Arm was stiffened, and I felt very weak. Mistress
_Fraunces_ had her Arm aneath mine Head, and my Master, with his grave,
kind Face, stood a-foot of the Bed. And, to my great Surprise, I heard
_Twelve o' the Clock_ striking on the Bell of St. _Magnus_, and, I
think, every other Clock in _London_, my Hearing seemed so tender; and
the Phlebotomist sayth, "He'll do, now.—Next Time you leap from such a
height, my Boy, clasp thine Hands a-top of thine Head. Howbeit, you will
now soon get well."

—But oh! I did not soon get well. For I wot not what had come over me,
... none of us ever could rightly tell, ... whether the sudden Chill
after being so hot, or the Plunge from so great an Height, or the Turn
of my Blood with Fright at seeing _Anne_ fall in, ... but as soon as
ever I essayed to arise and dress, my Master and _Tomkins_ being by, I
began tumbling about and could neither hear nor see; leastwise Nothing
that was really to be seen and heard. And with such fearsome Pains in my
Head! So hot, and yet so cold! Such Thirst, and such loathing of Food!

In short, I was sick nigh to Death of what the Leeches call Brain Fever.
Thereon the Kindness I received is past all telling. Mistress _Fraunces_
seemed never out of Sight. Also _Tib_ was very handy and officious,
never minding climbing ever so many Stairs. And _Miles_ did the odd Work
for all, spake under his Voice, and went about without his Shoes. At
dead o' Night, I sometimes saw my Master at the Bed-foot, reading his
_Tyndal's_ Testament, (one o' the few that scaped burning,) with the
Lamp shaded so as not to shine into mine Eyes. At other Times,
_Tomkins_. But his Book was never the Testament.

One Night, when the latter was with me alone, I said suddenly,
"_Tomkins_! the Night is far spent, the Day is at Hand!" ... "No, Lad,"
quod he, "it wants many Hours yet to Day. It hath but just struck
eleven." "Ah, but," quod I, "those Words I used are Scripture, I think,
for I heard Master _Hewet_, as he sate a-reading, whisper them over to
himself. Do look out for them, will you, that I may know I was not
dreaming. They worry me."

_Tomkins_ did not much like the Talk; howbeit, he laid down his own
Book, and turned over the other.

"I don't see them," quod he.

"How _can_ you, in the Dark?" quod I.

"I'm not in the Dark!" quod he.

"Well then," quod I, turning on my Pillow restlessly, "I suppose _I_ am.
I thought you had been, but peradventure I'm wandering again."

After long Silence, he sayth, in a Voice hushed, and quite altered, "I
have them now ... they are close to your Master's Mark." And continued
reading.

After a While, I saw him turn back again to his Starting-point, and sit
in a Muze, with his Eyes fixed; and after that, read again.

I said softly to him, presently, "_Tomkins_, where do you go on Sundays?"

"Who spoke?" cried he with a Start.

"_I_ did," quod I. "Who else _should_ speak?"

"Thy Voice sounded so low and sweet, Boy," quod he, recovering himself,
"that I wist not it was thine."

"Well, but," persisted I, "where _do_ you go on Sundays?"

"Not to Church," answered he, after a Pause.

"But why not, _Tomkins_? Hast thou not a Soul to be saved, as much as
we?"

"As much, no more," returned he, "if we _have_ any Souls."

"Oh!" cried I, half starting up, but obliged to fall back again
directly, "could a Man without a Soul _make a Watch_?"

"Well," quod he, after a Pause, "there you pose me. But all, all is
dark."

"_Tomkins!_" cried I, "you make my Head ache ready to split, and my
Eyeballs seem too big for mine Eye-lids to shut over them. So hot, too,
as they are! I cannot argue with you. But, oh, _Tomkins_! if all is
dark, remember that 'the Night is far spent, the Day is at Hand!'"

"So this Book sayeth," rejoined he, thoughtfully.

"Well," said I, sighing, "I shall soon know."

"_Know?_ why?"

"Why, because, _Tomkins_, I think I am very likely dying ... and then,
if I have no Soul, where do you think I shall go to?"

"I think," quod he, drawing his Hand across his Eyes, "that _you_ will
go to Heaven ... if there be such a Place."

"I think so too, and feel sure of it," said I.

"What makes you feel sure?" quod he.

"Well," quod I, "I seem to have a sort of Witness in myself."

"I wish I had," quod he, sighing deeply: and returned to his Reading.

"What have you come to, now?" quod I presently, seeing him stop.

"_Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven_," quod _Tomkins_.

"Such? what?"

"Little Children, like Mistress _Anne_ ... and Lads like you."

"Ah!" said I, "if I had not got her out of the Water, she'd have been in
Heaven now."

"I suppose you don't want her to _be_ there, though?" said _Tomkins_.
"Time enough for that—she'll go there when her Hour comes."

"Oh! then you think there _is_ such a Place to go to, do you?"

"For you and for her," quod he, cautiously.

"You say that to humour me, I fear, _Tomkins_, because I am ill. If
there be such a Place for us, why not for you?"

"Lad, you must keep quiet, and not talk so, or you'll go there sooner
than I wish."

"Well, I am glad thou admittest there is such a Place," returned I,
beginning to feel greatly spent. "Only I wish you felt you should go
there too."

"Boy, I'm not good enough," ejaculated he, with a shake of the Head.
"Ah, if you feel that, I don't despair of you," quod I. "There's Hope
for those that feel like forgiven Sinners or unforgiven Sinners: the
only hopeless ones are those that don't feel Sinners at all. And now,
_Tomkins_, just give me Something to drink."

He did so, holding up my Head on his Arm. "Is there Anything else," quod
he, "I can do for thee?"

"Why, yes," quod I, wistfully, "and then I think I could go to sleep."

"What is it?" saith he very kindly. "I'll do it for thee."

—"_Tomkins_, is it St. _Bartholomew's_ Eve yet? my Head is confused."

"_Bartholomew's_ Eve, Lad? Why, that's passed!"

"Oh me! ... how long?"

"Oh, not many Days—"

"Days?" And I felt so lost.

—"Then, the Swifts are gone!" said I.

"Well, don't let's think about the Swifts," quod he gently. "_Tempus
fugit_, as the Dial-plate says. What is it thou wilt have me to do?"

"_Tomkins!_"—and I reached his Ear down to me as he leant over me,
"I've been so weak and so queer ever since I fell into the Water, that I
don't believe, at least I can't remember having once said my Prayers ...
will you say one for me?"

"I can't, Boy," and a hot Tear fell on my Face.

"Oh, yes, you can! ... and then I should sleep quietly—Ever so short an
one!—"

"I can't remember _one_" said he, turning away his Head.

"Not one? Oh, _Tomkins_, indeed, indeed you must! For _my_ Sake—Just
this short one ... 'GOD be merciful to me, a Sinner!'"

"GOD be merciful to me, a Sinner," repeated he, bursting forth into
Weeping; and I drew his Face down yet closer unto mine. "Thank you,
_Tomkins_" quod I; "now I shall sleep soundly." And I slept.




CHAPTER V

_Edward convalesceth i' the Green Lattice_


When mine Eyes opened next Morning, my loved _Mother's_ dear, pale Face
was hanging over me. "Child," quod she, "Misfortunes never come
alone—When Master _Hewet's_ Post came to _Ashford_ with News of thy
Sickness, I was far from Home, in _Westmoreland_, at the Death-bed of
thine Uncle _Lancelyn_; and I wist not till Yesterday, what News was
awaiting my Return." ... And she hung over me, and bathed my Face in her
Tears. "But I am proud of thee, my _Ned_" quod she, "and so would thy
Father have been. And thou hast taken off from thee the Reproach of
being taught of a Woman as well as born of a Woman ... my dear, dear
Son!"

Oh! what a Heaven it was to get well! There was my loved _Mother_ beside
me at her Sewing, telling me of _Ashford_ and the green Lanes of _Kent_,
and of the wild Hills of _Westmoreland_, till I seemed to be there
myself. There was Mistress _Fraunces_ cockering me up, first with Sweets
and cooling Drinks, and then with savoury and strengthening Things; even
to _Mortreuse_ and _Leche Lombard_! And when I was able to sit up at the
green Lattice, Mistress _Anne_ and I would look down on the Barges and
Boats, and play at divers Games and tell divers Stories. The Lodger that
had beforetime occupied this Chamber, had left a Heap of old Books and
written Papers, which, having Nothing private in them, my Master said I
was free to look over. There was Part of a Chronicle of _English_
History, whether the Writer's own Composure or a Traduction, I wot not;
but brave and pleasant Reading, about the Courts of _England_, _France_,
_Spain_, and _Flanders_, in the Time of our _Edward_ the _Third_, and
Queen _Philippa_. Another Work was a Romaunt of Love and Chivalry: also
an Account of _London Bridge_, and _Chaucer's Canterbury Tales_, and a
Treatyse on Fysshynge. Likewise, there was a great Roll of Drawings,
done, I afterwards found, by another Lodger, in black and red Chalk,
much fouled, smeared, and chafed, but diverting to look at, being
Representations of Men, Women, Children, Skeletons, Death's Heads,
Bones, Angels, Fiends, Hippogriffs,—and divers other Presentments; with
_H. H._ writ at the End.

Thus pleasantly passed the Time till the Doctor said I had only now to
pick up my Strength; and my _Mother_ then thought it Time for her to
return to my little Brothers. The Evening before she left, she sayth
unto me somewhat apologetically, "_Ned_, thine Uncle _Edward_ having
died childless, and left all to thine unmarried Uncle _Lancelyn_, who
hath now left me his Heir, I am now well to do, with an hundred Pound by
the Year, real Estate, and, personal Estate, five hundred Pounds, which
I have taken kind Master _Hewet's_ Advice concerning the Disposal of.
And he, being kindly affectioned unto thee just now, (as well he may
be,) is pleased to say thou art sure to make thine own Way in the World,
and to advise my devising all my personal Estate unto thy younger
Brothers, thou being secure of the other at my Death."

Quod I, "Dear _Mother_, mayst thou live as long as I shall! There is
Nothing thou canst do so much to my Mind as to care for _Thomas_ and
_Julian_, the one of whom is weakly and unfit for active Life, and the
other, I think, will love Farming. Master _Hewet_, I am certified, hath
spoken wisely." And in sooth, I was glad to note what a good
Understanding seemed to exist, on so short Acquaintance, between him and
my dear _Mother_.

So, when she was gone, I had Nothing to do but to get well. Marry! what
a hard Matter, though, it was!—At first I was glad to think I might go
forth abroad, and resume my old Gossips with _Tomkins_. But the very
first Time I essayed to clamber up to his Attick, though 'twas only two
short Flights, I found myself so weak that I was fain to sit down on the
Stair and shed Tears, whether I would or no. And there, to my very great
Shame, I was found of my Master. He bespake me kindly, and helped me up,
and said this Weakness would soon go off: howbeit, it did not.—I always
think that Chirurgeon bled me too freely: I noted his saying, "We'll
knock him down first, and then build him up again!" which carryeth a
Sound of Smartness, but not always answereth with the Event. Thus, 'twas
now found I must still go softly; and the Weather being sultry, Master
_Hewet_ bade me keep as much as I could i' the open Air and Shade, and
creep out, as my Strength permitted, to the Fields, with Mistress _Anne_
to my Mate. So we went forth Hand in Hand, for I was past carrying her;
and presently I say, "Oh me, Mistress! ... I must sit down"—and sayth
she, "There's a Door-step i' the Shade a little farther on, with a nice
old Woman on it, selling Mulberries." So we creep on, and the little
Maid buyeth me Mulberries, and I eat and rest, and am refreshed. Then
quod I, "Let's go back now, Mistress;" but sayth she, "Oh, let's try to
go on to _Trolop's_ Milk-farm." So I love not to cross the little
Fondling, and as soon as we reach the green Meadows, the fresh, sweet
Air seems to take away that queer, light, fluttering Feel in my Head,
and to refresh and brace me; and I lie on the Grass i' the Shade, and
she runs hither and thither and gathers Borage, and Blue Bugloss, and
Bushy Red-mint, and bringeth them to me, saying, "What's this?" and
"What's this?" And so we go on Day by Day.

Now as touching _Miles Hackathrift_. When I first lay sick, I have said
he was mighty softened, and went gently and seemed amain concerned for
me. Howbeit, Boy's Grief not long lasteth, and he soon fell tired of
feeling or feigning any; more by Token, he perceived his was outrun by
that of Everyone in the House. Whereupon he turned about, and grew
indifferent, then jealous, then surly, then envious, doubtless by small
Degrees; but of this, I, being apart from him, was not cognizant; and
the Change made itself apparent to me all at once. First, when Master
_Hewet_ was out, he took Advantage of it to come trampling up Stairs
with all the Clamour he could, singing, "Row the Boat, Norman!" in a
defiant sort of Way; and when Mistress _Fraunces_ put her Head forth of
the Lattice Chamber and sayth, "Make not such a Turmoil, _Miles_," he
pretended to stumble on _Tomkins's_ Stair, and let a heavy Weight roll
all the way down it. When he clattered down after it, Mistress
_Fraunces_, watching her Opportunity, gave him a Rap on the Head, which
I know that white Hand of hers could not have dealt very heavily;
natheless he took Occasion by it to cry out sharply, and then give one
or two dismal Grones, which he was too spirited to have done had he in
verity been mal-entreated. However, finding he might not sing nor slam
Doors while I lay under the Leech's Care, he turned sulky and held
close, so as that scarce yea or nay was to be had out of him. When at
length I returned to our Loft, he took Care to do me to wit how pleasant
it had been to him to have it all to himself; and immediately took
Advantage of my coming back, to oversleep himself of a Morning. Also he
instantly intermitted all the little Share of my Work that had been put
upon him while I was ill. Seeing me turn white from Time to Time, he
said I was shamming for the Sake of Soups and Cordials; and when I went
forth with Mistress _Anne_, he called me a special good Nursery-maid.
All this I cared for very little, knowing that when I got stout, I could
soon put him down; but meantime, 'twas not over-pleasant to be scoffed
at as a languid Lad, who, if trodden on, could not turn again. One Day,
when some Trifle had made me start and change Colour,—I think it was
seeing Mistress _Anne_ go nigh the open Window,—he had half pronounced,
"You Coward!" when, suddenly changing his Mind, he sayth, "Dost know
what new Name I have found for thee, and taught the Lads along the
Bridge? 'The Knight of the Flying Leap!'" Which was humourous, but not
well natured. Howbeit I heard it often enough for awhile, but as a Title
of Distinction instead of Derision; which incensed the Author of it.

But all these little Clouds blew over during the three Weeks I spent
with my Mother at _Ashford_. When I came back, I was the same Lad as
ever, and took Things as I found them, and fell into my old Place.

 [Illustration: Tryphena & Tryphosa]

In the October of this Year, Sir _John Gresham_, Mercer, being chosen
Mayor, his Company resolved to get up their famous Pageant of the Maiden
Chariot; and having vainly cast about among their own Fraternity for a
young Damsel sufficiently comely to be the Admiration of all the City,
and likewise able and willing to play the Part of Chariot Maiden, they
at length offered it to the youngest Daughter of Master _Soper_ the
Barbitonsor who lived on the Bridge. Now Master _Soper_ had two
Daughters, good and pretty Girls enow as Times went, _Tryphena_ and
_Tryphosa_ by Name, fresh-coloured, sprightly, and much admired by the
Bridge 'Prentices. These two Sisters were seldom apart, inasmuch as both
their Heads might commonly be seen out of one upper Lattice, looking
after every Thing that passed in the Strete; and 'twas in their Favour
that they always seemed on the best of Terms with one another. But
whether by Reason of any Unguent of Master _Soper's_, or mere Liberality
of Nature, I wot not, the younger, who in no other Wise excelled her
Sister, was notorious for the excessive Length and Thickness of her
glossy flaxen Hair. And this being an indispensable Requisite for the
Chariot Maiden, the Mercers without more Ado offered her the Part, which
she with great Glee accepted. Now hereupon, I lament to say, ensewed
great Disruption between the twain hitherto so harmonious; for Public
Admiration of Beauty is as true a Test of what is the Nature of a
Woman's Heart, as the black Marble the Goldsmiths call Touchstone is of
their precious Metals. If her Head be not turned by it, good: if she can
bear it bestowed upon another and o'erlooked in herself, why, good
also,—she can stand the Touchstone: howbeit, all have not this Virtue.
And, whereas _Tryphosa_ was now so elate with thinking of her white
satin Gown, her golden Sandals, her jewelled Crown, and her Feast in the
Hall, as to suppose the Ground scarce good enow for her to tread upon,
_Tryphena_ was ready to burst with Envy of her Sister, and could scarce
speak peaceably unto her. However, she came to her common Sense and good
Feeling at last, and found her Account in playing Second; many good
Things being in Store for both. A notable Thing was, that Master
_Soper's_ Shop was now literally besieged with Customers who wanted to
have a Glimpse of the Chariot Maiden, insomuch that he said he never had
had such a Trafficking for Pennyworths in any given Year, as he had in
this Month of October; only the worst was that every Customer gave as
much Trouble for a Penny as he should have done for a Shilling, and
would hang about, keeping away fresh Comers, when his Purchase was made.
While _Tryphosa_, who had never to this Time shewn any Symptoms of
Shyness, now turned coy and kept herself close; now and then letting
_Tryphena_ flit through the Shop and be mistaken for her, after which
the two would shut themselves up and go into Fits of Laughter. The Women
all along the Bridge were out of Patience with her for what they would
have it was simulated Bashfulness in one who meant to be stared at from
Morn to Night on _Lord Mayor's_ Day. And they satisfied themselves that
she was shutting herself up for Fear of freckling or sunburning. As for
_Miles_, who always loved to do like the rest, he was evermore running
over to Master _Soper_ to have his Hair cut, till at last it was hardly
longer than the Nap of his Gown; and I almost think he would have
submitted one of his good white Teeth to the Barber's Pincers, if he
could have gained Admittance on no cheaper Terms; just to boast of it
afterwards. At last, when the grand Day came, he and every 'Prentice on
the Bridge mobbed the Barbitonsor's Door till _Tryphosa_ was fetched
away in a close Litter. Then there was a Rush to the _Mercers'_ Hall,
where Master _Gresham_, in his Scarlet and Gold, met his Livery in their
new Gowns furred with Foins and Budge; and accompanied them, mounted, to
_Guildhall_, where the late _Mayor_, _Sheriffs_, and _Aldermen_, met
them on Horseback. Then they all took Barge to _Westminster_ and back,
to the Sound of Trumpets, Sackbuts, and Shawlms, and the firing of small
Guns, and exploding of Crackers. On re-landing at _Three Cranes' Wharf_,
they re-mounted, and proceeded to _Paul's Churchyard_, where they met
the Pageant, consisting of an exceeding magnifical Chariot, twenty-two
Feet high, of the _Roman_ Build, entirely covered with silver embossed
Work, having _Tryphosa_ therein, set on high, in Jewels and spangled
Satin; her fair flaxen Tresses dishevelled, a Sceptre in one Hand, a
Shield in the other, with all the Glory and Majesty possible to
imagine:—_Fame_, blowing of a Trumpet right over her Head, _Wisdom_,
_Modesty_, and all the rest, including the nine Muses, each in their
proper Places; _Triumph_, driving nine white _Flanders_ Horses, three
abreast; Grooms, Lictors, and Pages marching alongside the Equipage; and
a Score of Salvages and Jacks-i'-the-Green, making diverting Remarks to
all; and keeping the Crowd off with Squibs and Crackers.

Oh! was ever Woman exalted one Day so high (even to the first-floor
Windows), to come down so low into the Retiredness of domestic Life the
next! What was _Cleopatra_ sailing down the _Cydnus_ to this? Did
_Zenobia_, did _Semiramis_ ever have anything so fine in the Way of
Triumph? Pish!—Moreover, there was a separate Table prepared for
_Tryphosa_, who dined in State with her chosen Ladies, attended by
Seneschals, Squires, and Pages, as if she had been a Queen. And had
Swans' Pudding and Leche Lombard, I promise ye!

—But oh! poor Humanity.—'Twas noted at the Feast, more in special by
some of the chosen Ladies that thought themselves set lower than they
might have been,—that poor _Tryphosa's_ Face was so tanned by Exposure
all Day to Sun and Wind, as that my _Lord Mayor's_ Gown was scarce more
Scarlet. And by the Space of a Fortnight or so from that Hour, 'twas so
blistered and scorched that she hated to be seen, and was obliged to
blanch and mollify it with Buttermilk, Cream of Almonds, and I wot not
what Female Recipes. Which was the more provoking, as some of the
inferior Officers of the Company called, the Day after the Feast, to
know how she fared, and she was constrained to leave their Entertainment
to _Tryphena_. _Miles_, who had a Glimpse of her through an upper
Casement, was so offended at her Aspect that he spent no more Pence at
Master _Soper's_. And by the Fortnight's End, the Matter had ceased to
be talked about, and the two Girls might be seen, sewing together, and
keeping an Eye to the Bridge, as contentedly and harmoniously as ever.

During my Visit to my _Mother_, a new Inmate had been brought into the
Family: to wit, a superior Kind of Maid for Mistress _Anne_, named
_Damaris_, who had lived aforetime in the Household of Master _Hewet's_
Brother in the Country. She was a Miracle of Composedness and discreet
Demeanour, which gave her the Air of being somewhat older than she
really was. Mistress _Anne_ now spent the Chief of the Day with her in
the Green Lattice, where _Damaris_ kept herself much reserved, sewing
fine Linen, and teaching her little Charge to read.

One Day, when I was moving some Laths and Cases that had stood against
the Wall in _Tomkins's_ Attick till they were begrimed with Dust, I was
in Amaze to behold delineated on the White-wash with black Chalk, an
exact Portraicture of _Tomkins_, stooping over his Work, with every Line
and Furrow of his intent, earnest Visage accurately made out.

"What's this?" quod I.

_Tomkins_ brake forth into Laughing. "I wist what you would come to,"
quod he, "when you set about moving those Laths. That's Master _Hans
Holbein's_ Handywork. He must needs befoul the Wall with his Scrawling,
just after it had been fresh Lime-washed. I told him 'twas a Pity it had
not been scrawled first, and limewashed afterwards. So, then, in his
Despite, he scored it through with that Cross; and then I set the Lumber
against it, and told him Nobody should see it again."

"Who is _Hans Holbein_?" quod I.

"A prime _Flemish_ Painter," returned _Tomkins_; "he tables at the
Goldsmith's, nearer the north End of the Bridge. When Master _Hewet_
first married, he had _Hans Holbein_ for a Lodger; and the Green Lattice
was filled from End to End with his Pictures—there's a Bundle of his
Scratchings down there now. Howbeit, he was too boisterous an Inmate to
please Mistress _Alice_, so Master _Hewet_ was glad to get quit of him.
There's a famous Thing of his at _Surgeons' Hall_; old King _Harry_
granting the Charter to the Company; howbeit, though he painted half the
Court, he did nothing better, to my Mind, than his Likeness of Mistress
_Alice_, that now hangs at the Foot of her Husband's Bed. When the Door
standeth ajar, thou mayst see it without going in."

So, the next Time I passed, I looked in, and saw the Presentment of my
Master's late Wife. Of a Truth, she must have been a fair Creature: with
Eyes as blue and truthful as Mistress _Anne's_, and sunny Hair that
would have fallen over her fair Shoulders in as heavy Curls, but for her
Matron's Frow's-paste. Also the same full, cherry Lips, and dimpled
Chin; the same small Nose, small Ear, small Hand; in fine, the
Foreshadow of what Mistress _Anne_ in After-time became, rather than
what she was yet.... Pity, so fair a Lady should die so young!

And she made a good End, _Tomkins_ told me—knew 'twas at Hand, took
composed Leave of all, and desired she might be buried in the Church of
St. _Martin Orgar_; and that 30_s._ and no more should be spent to bury
her decently, and 10_s._ more for Cakes, Wine, and Spices for the
Mourners. Also 20_s._ out of her own private Purse to be put in the
Common-box of the Fraternity for an Alms; Five Shillings to the mortuary
Priest, and Five Shillings to the Poor in Bread. Six of the Company bare
her to Church, each of whom received a silver Spoon.

Somewhere about this Time, the _Clothworkers'_ new Overseer came to
examine the Premises; and, when he had concluded his Inspection
below-stairs, told my Master, with some Hesitation, he had Reason to
think there was a Journeyman hid away above who worked in the House.
Master _Hewet_ smiled, and told him of the Exception made in Favour of
_Tomkins_, and accompanied him up-stairs, to let him witness for himself
that his Statement was true. When we went in, _Tomkins_, for once, was
off Duty, intent upon a Book, and so buried in it, that he started and
blushed like a Boy caught conning _Tom Thumb_ in School-time. When the
Overseer was gone, _Tomkins_ sayth to me with a little Dryness, "Who
would have thought of your taking me by Surprise?"

I made Answer, "Who would have thought of your being surprised?" at
which he laughed.

"So," quod he, after weaving a little While in Silence, "they've set up
_Erasmus's_ Paraphrase, now, alongside of the chained Bible in St.
_Magnus's_."

"They have it in all the Churches," quod I; "but how came you to know
it?"

He was silent awhile, and smiled a little. "Well," quod he, "thou
knowest I have crawled out a little lately, before Breakfast; and I
thought it as well to turn into the Church for a Rest; and found that a
Spell of Reading helped to pass the Time.... I go there o' Sundays, now:
have done so ever since _that Night_."

"Then," quod I softly, as I leaned over him, "GOD _hath_ been merciful
to you a Sinner."

And spake never a Word moe.




CHAPTER VI

_Tib's Malpractyzes_


As about this Time, it being stark Winter, _Tib Pyebaker_ went near to
burn the House down after the Manner following. She took some red-hot
Coals between two Saucepan-lids to warm her Bed therewith; and, whenas
she deemed it heated enow, she would needs not be at the Pains of
carrying the Coals down again, but hid them under the Stairs in a
Broom-cupboard. And by Reason of the undermost Lid-handle making the Lid
to lose its Balance, it fell Topside-t'otherway, and the lighted Coals
were spilled, whereof I passing the Cupboard, was made ware by the
strong Smell of burning. And, looking therein and moving sundry Rags
that were already Tinder, I found the Boards beneath them just ready to
burst into a Flame. Whereupon, without running for Water, I cast my Gown
thereon and crushed it out with my Hands. Now, could I have hidden my
Burns, I might have saved _Tib's_ Credit; whereas the Thing could not be
hid, seeing I could not so much as cut my Meat; and Mistress _Fraunces_
bruiting it abroad, it came to the Ears of the Bridge Wardens, who,
because of the imperilling of the whole Bridge, would not be hindered of
setting _Tib_ in the Cage, as a Warning to other careless Servants. I
was grievous for her, the Place was so publique; and a Lot of 'Prentice
Boys were staring at her all Day, and offering her Eatables and then
plucking them away. Also _Miles_ made no end of Pretences for going of
Errands past that End of the Bridge, and always feigned to look away
from _Tib_, yet took Care to spy her in her Trouble, out of the Corner
of his Eye, all the Time.

I never knew one Woman treat another with more silent Contempt than
_Damaris_ expressed for _Tib_, after this Affair of the Cage. It was a
long Time afore the 'Prentices (who now called me _Fire-and-Water_,)
left off asking of _Tib_ where she now kept her Warming-pan, and whether
she cast her hot Ashes out on the Boats that shot the Bridge. For this,
she would sometimes catch them by the Ears and pull them well; but then
they would cry "Clubs!" and a Score of Lads were over their Counters in
a Minute, and she had to run for it and dart breathless into the House,
whither they dared not follow her. Howbeit, when the pleasant Month of
May came, and the Damsels danced before their Masters' Doors to the
Timbrels, _Tib_, who well loved to pound away with the Rest, was so
cross that she would not come forth.

During the last few Months, _Tomkins_ had been much eased of his
Lameness; and the worn Look of Suffering had altogether departed,
leaving him a much younger looking Man than before this Relief. One day,
to my great Surprise, he told me he was going to be married. I asked
him, to whom; and he said, to an old Acquaintance of his he had long
lost Sight of, but had fallen in with in St. _Magnus_' Church ... one
who would gladly have had him when they were many Years younger, but who
was kind enough to care for him and wish to make him happy now. He
added, reflectively, when he had told me this, "There are a great many
good Women in the World."

So he removed his Loom to a tidy Lodging in _Shoreditch_, which Master
_Hewet_ furnished for him; and Mistress _Fraunces_ gave him his Wedding
Dinner, and _Miles_ and I helped to eat it. The Wife, though
middle-aged, had a pleasant Aspect; and I thought _Tomkins_ had done a
very good Thing for himself; but his Attick looked very dreary without
him.

The Marching Watch was revived with great Splendour this Year by the
Lord Mayor, Sir _John Gresham_, both on St. _John's_ Eve, and the Eve of
St. _Peter_: and the Array was augmented by three Hundred Demi-lances
and light Horse, prepared by the City to be sent into _Scotland_ for the
Rescue of the Town of _Haddington_. Five Hundred of the Cressets were
furnished by the great Companies, the other two Hundred by the Chamber
of _London_, and every Cresset had two Men, one to hold, and one to trim
it: and every Cresset-bearer had Wages, his Breakfast, a Badge, and a
Straw Hat. And, what with Halberdiers, Billmen, etc., there mustered
about two Thousand. There were also many City Feasts, some of which
Master _Hewet_ and Mistress _Fraunces_ attended very richly dressed.

It was some little Time after this, that I, copying a Letter at my
Master's Behest, could not hinder myself of hearing the following
Address made to him by Mistress _Fraunces_.

"_William_, I have been laying up thy black Velvet Suit with Care, this
Morning, thinking thou wouldest have no more present Occasion for
it.—How well thou becamest it, I thought! And so thought Mistress
_Beatrix_. She said she had never seen a Man look so well since thou
warest thy white Sarcenet Coat in the great Muster for King _Harry_."

"Sarcenet Speeches, Sister," sayth Master _Hewet_.

"Nay, I know not what you mean by Sarcenet Speeches," returns she, "I am
sure they were sincere enough; and truly I think, Brother, if you pushed
your Fortune a little in that Quarter, you might have Success."

Finding he uttered no Word, she, after a little waiting, saith, "Dear
_Alice_ hath now been long in her Grave, and would, I am certified, wish
you to be happy."

—"And what is to make me so?" asks he, huskily.

"Nay, Brother, a good Wife."

"I've had one," quod he, "and one is enough to my Share.—Are you tired
of keeping House for me? What would you do, now, if I set a Lady above
you at my Table?"

"Oh," quod she cheerfully, "I would gladly take the second Place. Or, if
she preferred my Room to my Company, I would take Pattern by the old
Lady at the Bridge End that lives all alone by herself with her Cats."

"No, dear _Fraunces_" sayth he,—and I have Ground for thinking he
kissed her,—"you shall need neither Alternative—_Alice_ shall have no
Successor in mine House, since she can never have one in my Heart ...
and, as to happy,—why, except for that one great Loss, am I not happy
as Man can be? Believe me, I am content with the Present, and trustful
for the Future. I hope to see...."

But what he hoped to see, I heard not.

About this Time, _Miles_ had formed close Acquaintance with some Lads on
the Bridge, who gave their Masters more Trouble than enough. I suppose
he thought it spirited of them, and worthy of all Imitation. One Night,
I awoke out of my first Sleep, and lay listening to the Uproar of the
Winds and Waters, which seemed quite to drown _Miles'_ Snoring, when the
Door suddenly opened, and my Master, with a Lamp in his Hand, sayth,
"_Ned_, are you in Bed?" I say, "Yes, Master." "Then," quod he, where is
_Miles_?" I said, "In Bed too, Master." But he turned his Light on
_Miles'_ Bed, and it was empty. Then quod he, "The Bridge Watchman hath
just called under my Window to say one of my 'Prentices was abroad, but
he wist not which, for in chasing him, he stumbled over an Heap of
Rubbish before a House under Repair, and lost him in the Dark."

Then he left me, and I lay wondering how _Miles_ could have got out,
since Mistress _Fraunces_ kept the House-key, and what Account he would
give of himself when he came back. Master _Hewet_, I afterwards learnt,
found the Key in the Door, outside, and took it in, and locked the Door.
And so, sate in Wait a good While, till at length some one tries the
Door from without, then gropes about the Ground for the Key, then loudly
whispers through the Keyhole, "_Tib!_ _Tib!_"

Thereupon the Door is opened, but not by _Tib_; and my Master, collaring
_Miles_, strikes him, but not so severely as for him to do what he did,
which was to fall all along on the Ground and emit one or two hollow
Grones. Master _Hewet_, witting him to be scarce hurt, waxed very angry,
and pulling him up, would know how he got out, but _Miles_ would not
tell. Then he would know why he called on _Tib_ through the Keyhole, as
though expecting her to be at Hand; and he made Answer, Because her Name
came readiest, and he was less afeard of her than of any else, but she
wist not of his being out. My Master said, That should be seen to, and
how did he get the Key? He said Mistress _Fraunces_ had forgotten to
take it up. But Mistress _Fraunces_, when called up, remembered well to
have laid it on her Toilette ere she went to Bed, and was avised _Tib_
must have fetched it while she was asleep. But, on going to _Tib_,
Mistress _Fraunces_ found her sleeping so heavily, that after much
shaking, all she could get out of her was, "Thieves! Thieves!" So the
Matter stood over; Master _Hewet_ putting it to _Miles_ whether he wist
not that he might have him up before the Wardens, and see him hardly
dealt with. So _Miles_ came back to his Bed, sullen enough.

But a Woman's own Tongue is oft her worst Enemy. The next Morning,
though Nothing could be got out of _Miles_ nor of _Tib_, yet Mistress
_Fraunces_, being in her own Bed-chamber, instead of at Market, as _Tib_
supposed, hears _Tib_, who was concluded to be making my Master's Bed, a
talking from his Window to the Maid in the corresponding Window across
the Strete. And although, by Reason of the two Tenements being so very
few Feet apart in their upper Stories, there was hardly need for _Tib_
to speak above her Breath, yet Mistress _Fraunces_, quickened by
Curiosity, could hear almost every Word, and how that _Tib_ had come
into her Chamber when she was asleep, and took the Key and lent it to
_Miles_, who had promised her a tawdry Ribbon for it: and how the
Watchman saw him go forth, and aroused my Master, who set on him when he
returned, and beat him within an Inch of his Life. And how Mistress
_Fraunces_—But here Mistress _Fraunces_ spoiled all, in her Anxiety to
hear the Particulars of her own Character; for, advancing a little too
near the Casement, that she might not lose a Syllable, she was caught
Sight of by the Neighbour's Maid, who, without Doubt, made a Signal to
_Tib_. Whereupon, _Tib_, after a Moment's Pause, added, and how that if
Mistress _Fraunces_ were not the sweetest and mercifullest of Ladies,
there would be no Chance of her forgiving such a Misdeed when she came
to hear it, as _Tib_ meant she should the very first Time she could find
Heart to confess it to the sweetest and best of Ladies.

Oh what Potence hath a flattering Tongue! Here was Mistress _Fraunces_
ready to fly out upon _Tib_ and give her Warning on the Spot, and, in a
Minute, in a Breath, her Wrath was allayed and brought within Compass by
the Commendation of an artful Woman. She goeth to the Stair-foot and
calleth, "_Tib!_ _Tib!_ come down with thee this Instant!" but by the
Time _Tib_ appeared with her Apron at her Eyes, she had lost all Mind to
cast her, characterless, forth of the House, and it sufficed her to
bestow a severe Chiding. Whereat _Tib_ wept, and took Shame to herself,
and made her Peace; and so was kept on. Which I ever thought an
ill-advised Thing. Where there's no Fidelity, there's no Safety.




CHAPTER VII

_Early Setting of a young Morning Star_


"And _Jacob_ served _Laban_ for _Rachel_ seven Years; and they seemed
unto him but so many Days, for the Love he had unto her." Albeit I was
not serving my Master for my Master's Daughter, yet her being in the
House helped, I wot, to make the seven Years speed like seven Days.
Sure, never was so gracious a Creature! Her Nature was so excellent, and
her Countenance, which was the Index of her Mind, was so full of
Sweetness and Goodness, that one could scarce look upon her without
blessing Him who had created her so lovely.

Meantime my Master's Fortune and Credit from small Beginnings had risen
mightily, as is often the Case in this commercial and prosperous City.
He had gone through the three Degrees of Wardenship of his Company, had
been elected of the Common Council, and was now Alderman of the Bridge
Ward Without. And if he still lived and went plain, he laid by and laid
out in Commerce the more: there was no Shew, nor no Stinting.

Yes: those were happy Days! All the fairer they seem now, for the dark
ones that were coming. The only Sorrow among us that I remember was when
the Pestilence brake out, in the fifth Year of our young King, which at
first only prevailed in the North, but at length reached _London_, where
it raged with prodigious Fury, carrying off eight Hundred Souls the
first Week, and mostly after a Sickness of only twelve or twenty-four
Hours. We had it not on the Bridge, which was attributed to the free
Access of fresh Air to our Dwellings; howbeit, Mistress _Anne_ (like a
ministering Angel as she was,—such a Child, too! only in her twelfth
Year!) must needs go about, relieving poor Wretches in their Dwellings;
whereby she caught a low Fever that brought her to Death's Door, and
filled the House with Tears. If my Master, a Man in Years, forbare not
to weep, Reason was, a Lad such as I should weep too. Howbeit, through
the Grace of God, she recovered: but for a long Time she was too
enfeebled to walk, wherefore Master _Hewet_ took her much on the Water
during the long Summer Evenings, after we had been nigh stifled by the
Day's sultry Heat. For the eastern Side of the House was close; and the
western, though open, yet was much exposed to the Glare of the Sun on
the River. We shut it out with Blinds and Lattices all we could; but
still, the Crown of the Day was after Sundown on the Water. Master
_Hewet_ liked his 'Prentices to pull; and sometimes we fell into the
Wake of some Court Barge with Horns and Sackbuts, and lay on our Oars;
Mistress _Anne_ full silent, resting her Head, for Weakness, against my
Master's Shoulder, and with the Tears sometimes stealing down from her
large, bright Eyes. My Master carried her down to the Boat, but 'twas my
Portion, for I will not say Burthen, to carry her up. How light she was!
She did not much like it, and managed presently to ascend slowly, with
the help of my Master's Arm; but I remember the Goodness and Sweetness
with which, with a sweet Blush on her Face, she sayth, "Do you remember
the first Time? But for thee, I had not been here now."

As she strengthened, we kept out longer, and went up to _Chelsea_ and
_Fulham_, and rambled about the pleasant Fields; eating Curds and Cream
at Milkhouses, and returning by Moonlight; _Miles_ and I singing, "Row
the Boat, _Norman_."

 [Illustration: JJ
 "Eating Curds & Cream"]

Then Master _Hewet_ carried her down into the Country, to the Hall of
his Brother the Squire; and there she abode till she was quite well.
When she returned, the Leaves were falling, and Master _Hewet_ would
walk with her of an Evening to _Finsbury Fields_, and stand with her at
a Distance to see us young Men shoot the long Bow, leap, wrestle, cast
the Stone, and practise our Shields; in all which, _Miles_ came in for
his full Share of Praise; and I was always well content to be thought
equal to him. Sometimes I overshot him, sometimes he overshot me;
sometimes I outleaped him, sometimes he outleaped me; but we loved the
Game beyond the Competition; there was never any ill Blood between us.

'Twas on _All Saints'_ Day, this Year, that the new Service Book, called
of Common Prayer, was first used in _Paul's_ Church, and the like
throughout the whole City. Dr. _Ridley_, Bishop of _London_, performed
the same in _Paul's_, in his Rochet only; and in the Afternoon preached
at _Paul's_ Cross before the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Livery Companies,
which Sermon, being on the Subject of the new Service, lasted till five
o' the Clock, so that, the Days being short, we returned by Torch-light.

Then had the Church great Rest. The Enemy, knowing his Time was at Hand,
lay mighty quiet: and, for the Multitude of notable Foreigners that
resorted to us for Safeguard, _England_ might have been called _Christi
Asylum_. Howbeit, the Canker was already i' the Bud!

The King, earlier in the Year, had ta'en the Measles; and during the
Summer, had ridden a Progress with greater Magnificence than ever he had
done before. In the _January_ following, whether procured by sinister
Practice or natural Infirmity, he fell into an Indisposition of Body
which soon grew to a Cough of the Lungs. Perhaps it had been happy if
Lord _Robert Dudley_ (now my Lord of _Leicester_,) had not recently been
sworn one of the six Gentlemen of the King's Chamber ... we must not
speak ill, _Hew_, of them that are set high in Authority, save upon
great Conviction and Certitude: howbeit, you and I know what the private
Report of that Gentleman is—When I'm sick, don't give me a _Leicester
Cordial_, that's all!

The common Talk was, that a poisoned Nosegay had been given the pretty
Boy at New-year's-tide, which brought him into this slow but deadly
Languishment. To think, what Poison may lie 'neath Flowers! At all
Events, the Duke of _Northumberland_, now the powerfullest Man in the
Realm since he had swallowed up his unhappy Rival _Somerset_, beginneth
to aim at nothing short of Crown matrimonial for his young Son Lord
_Guilford Dudley_, lately espoused to the Lady _Jane Grey_; therefore
inculcateth on the kingly Boy now a-dying, how much it concerned him to
have a Care for Religion, not only during Life, but after his Death;
which could not be preserved in its Purity to the Realm should the Lady
_Mary_ succeed; and, if he set aside one Sister, he might as well put
away the other also, and devise his Crown to her who after them was his
next Kinswoman, the good and godly Lady _Jane_.

So soon as this was obtained of him, he might die as soon as he
would—the sooner the better—and, to help Matters, the Leeches were
dismissed, and a Gentlewoman (thought to have received her Instructions
before hand,) set over him; under whose Applications his Pulse presently
failed, his Skin changed Colour, and other Symptoms speedily appeared of
Mortal Dissolution. Turning his Face then to the Wall like good
_Hezekiah_, he was heard by one that sate behind the Curtain to say, "O
LORD GOD, deliver me out of this miserable and wretched Life! O LORD,
thou knowest how happy it were for me to be with thee; yet, for thy
Chosen's Sake, if it be thy Will, send me Life and Health that I may
truly serve thee!" After a little Space, again he sigheth, "O save thy
People _England_!" Then, turning about, and noting some one behind the
Curtain, "I had thought," saith he, "I was alone." "Sir," sayth the
Attendant, "I heard you speak, but heard not what you were saying."
"Nay," sayth he, "I was but praying to GOD. Oh! I am faint! faint unto
Death! LORD, receive my Spirit!" And forthwith breathed out his white,
innocent Soul. Early ripe, early gathered!

Thus we sometimes see the Nation's prime Hope, the Desire of all Eyes,
cut off as a sweet Rose snaps its Stalk; and we mourn, thinking the LORD
hath forgotten to be gracious and will no more be entreated, and his
Mercy is clean gone from us for ever; not knowing that, after he hath
tried and purified his own, yea, like Silver over the Fire, till the
thick Scum separates and he seeth his own Image reflected in the bright
Metal, he will return unto us and be gracious, like as a Father pitieth
his Children, and make our latter Day better than our Beginning. Had we
not known the early Setting of this young _Hesperus_, we had not now
sunned ourselves in the Light of our bright Occidental Star.

And now, the bright Boy being dead, the Duke of _Northumberland_ took
upon him to sit at the Stern, and order all Things according unto his
Pleasure. The Demise of the Crown was kept close that Day and the next,
he hoping to obtain Possession of the Lady _Mary_, who, however, learned
the Secret, and rode off to the Coast. Meantime, he took heed to occupy
and fortify the _Tower_; and, on the second Day, sent for the Lord
Mayor, six Aldermen, not including Master _Hewet_, six Merchants of the
Staple, and as many Merchant Adventurers, to attend the Council at
_Greenwich_, where they were advised of the King's Death and how he had
ordained for the Succession by Letters Patent, to the which they were
sworn, and charged to keep the Matter secret.

When my Master presently heard of this from one of his brother Aldermen,
(for such Secrets are not long kept,) he said, in his own Family, that
however he might desire a Protestant Succession, he was persuaded that
this would not, nor could not, come to Good. "To say Nothing," quod he,
"of the Lady _Jane's_ questionable Birth; for the Duke, though few know
it, had, when he married her Mother, a Wife living already."

Howbeit, at Three o' the Clock on the Monday Afternoon, the Lady _Jane_
was conveyed, in Sight of us all, by Water from _Syon_ to the _Tower_,
and there received as Queen. At Five o' Clock, the King's Death and her
Accession were proclaimed; but few cried "GOD save Queen _Jane_!" A
Drawer at a Tavern within _Ludgate_ said in the Hearing of some, that he
thought the Lady _Mary_ had the better Title; whereon he was incontinent
arrested and set in the Pillory in _Chepe_, whereto both his Ears were
nailed, and then clean cut off.

Meantime the Duke of _Northumberland_ heareth that the Lady _Mary's_
Party makes head, whereon he resolves to send Lady _Jane's_ Father, the
Duke of _Suffolk_, to put it down and seize her Person. Whereon the Lady
_Jane_, who hath all along had no Mind to the Crown, weepeth sore, and
begs her Father may be let off that Enterprize and that her
Father-in-law will take it on himself; which he, after short Demur and
much Flattery of his Bravery and Skill, consenteth to do. But his Heart
misgiveth him, both as to what he goes to and what he leaves behind;
and, sayth he to the Council, "Should ye in mine Absence waver in your
Resolution, it may be ye will contrive your own Safety with my
Destruction." Quod they, "Your Grace makes a Doubt of that which cannot
be, for which of us all can wash his Hands clean of this Business?" So
the Duke set forth with eight Thousand Foot and two Thousand Horse; and,
as he rode along _Shoreditch_, quod he to Lord _Grey_, "See how the
People press forward to see us! but not one of them sayth, 'GOD speed
you!'"

In Truth, Gentle and Simple fell off to the Lady _Mary_, though Bishop
_Ridley_ preached at _Paul's_, to invite us to stand firm to Lady
_Jane_. The Duke's Party melted away; and the Duke of _Suffolk_,
learning how his Daughter's Partizans had defalked to the Lady _Mary_ or
been defeated and captivated, entereth the young Queen's Chamber and
telleth her in brief, she must now put off her royal Robes and be
content with a private Life. To which the meek young Lady made Answer,
that she should put them off with more Contentation than she had put
them on; and would never have done so but to please him and her Mother.
And so ended her ten Days' Reign.




CHAPTER VIII

_The Defence of the Bridge_


On the Third of _August_, the Lady _Mary_ entered _London_ as _Mary_ the
_Queen_; and truly she began to make short Work of it; for, the next
Day, she restored _Gardiner_ to his Bishopric of _Winchester_, and, a
few Days later, made him _Chancellor_; and, on the Fifth, restored
_Bonner_ and _Tunstall_ to their Sees. _Ridley_, _Coverdale_, _Hooper_,
and the rest of our good reformed Bishops, of course, were removed; and
all beneficed Men that were married, or would not abjure the reformed
Faith, were put out of their Livings.

On the _13th_, _Miles_ and I went to hear what would be said at _Paul's
Cross_. There was one _Bourne_, a Canon, who preached such arrant
_Romanism_ and Flattery of _Bonner_, now Bishop of _London_, to his
Face, that the People hooted and cried, "Pull him down," and _Miles_,
flinging his Cap with good Aim, hit him on the Nose. Another flung a
Dagger, which just missed him, but caused him to quit his Post; and
honest Master _Bradford_, stepping into it, spread forth his Hands with,
"Good _Christian_ People"—whereon there was great Quiet; and by his
savoury and peaceifying Doctrine he allayed the Tumult. The same Day, an
old Priest said Mass at St. _Bartholomew's_, albeit the People went nigh
to pull him in Pieces.

The following _Sunday_, one Dr. _Watson_ preached at _Paul's Cross_, and
the Churchyard was lined with Soldiers, for Fear of like Tumult that was
on the _Sunday_ before. During the Week, _Northumberland_ had been
arraigned and condemned; and on the _Monday_ next following he was to be
beheaded; howbeit, he desired first to hear Mass and receive the
Sacrament after the _Romish_ Manner: thereby looking, maybe, to obtain
Pardon, but in sooth only proving a Renegade and losing the Grace of a
Confessor. The Lady _Jane_, looking forth of her Prison Window, saw him
on his Way to Mass; a grievouse Thing to her pure Mind; whereof she
spake next Day at Table, saying, "Wo worth him! Should I that am young
and in my few Yeres, forsake my Faith for the LOVE of Life? Much more he
should not, whose fatal Course could not long have lasted."

On the _14th Sept._ good Master _Latimer_ was sent Prisoner to the
Tower. Seeing a Warder there whose Face he remembered, he cried
cheerily, "What, old Friend! how do you? See, I am come to be your
Neighbour again!" The good _Cranmer_ was committed thither the same Day.
But these Things were done privately: a Boat, more or less, privily
shooting the Bridge and gliding aneath the Traitors' Arch, was ta'en no
Note of; while the Stretes and Highways were all astir with Preparations
for the Queen's Crownation, which was set for the _1st Octr._ The
_Easterlings_ were providing her a mighty fine Pageant, at _Gracechurch
Corner_, with a little Condyt that ran Wine: the _Genouese_ had theirs
in _Phanechurchstrete_, the _Florentines_ at the farther End of
_Gracechurchstrete_, with an Angel in Green and Gold, that, at pulling
of a String, set a Trumpet to his Mouth and made believe to blow
it,—only a real Trumpeter stood behind. With these and such-like Toys
the City amused their Minds, and humoured themselves into receiving the
Queen with due Loyalty.

But when she came forth ... alas! what an ill-favoured Lady! Sure, we
are all as GOD made us, for Homeliness or Comeliness; but yet a sweet
Nature may be discerned through the plainest Favour; but it could not be
discerned here. And she declined her Head upon her Hand, as though for
some Ache or Ail that constrained her to regard Everything done in her
Honour askance and awry. 'Tis Pity o' my Life! when a Lady is so ill at
Ease, she can't hold her Head strait on her Crownation-day. Doubtless
crowned Heads are liable to Aches as well as those that own ne'er a Cap;
and 'tis a heaven-sent Immunity when they are able as well as willing
for all Public Occasions, like our Royal Lady that now rules the Land.
With Bone-fires and Feastings, there were many private Families enjoyed
that Day more heartily, I wot, than the Queen's Grace in her Chair of
State. The Ceremonial was spun out beyond all Reason; and when she
returned, 'twas with the three Swords of the three Kingdoms borne
sheathed before her, and another unsheathed—alack! not the _Sword of
the Spirit_.

Old Master _Cheke_ dined with us next Day ... he was now a withered
little old Man, with a frosty Bloom still on his thin Cheek, but no Fire
in his Eye. He was mighty cast down at the late Imprisonment of his
Nephew, who, though now set at large, had had a narrow Escape of it, and
behoved to lie close. Wherefore, to the old Man's Thought, all Joy had
vanished, the Mirth of the Land was gone: and he took up his Parable and
prophesied evil Things.

"And who knows not," quod he, "whether we shall not shortly have a
_Romish_ King set over us? The Queen is in Love to Death with _Reginald
Pole_; and although he will none of her, he may not be able to resist a
matrimonial Crown. We shall have him sent for presently, and released
from his VOWS, as sure as _London Bridge_ is built on Wool-packs."

Well I wot Master _Cheke_ had the Truth on't. For the Queen's Grace,
being now seven an' thirty Year old, had no Time to lose, if she minded
to marry at all; and _Reginald Pole_, albeit now in his fifty-fourth
Year, was the very handsomest Man of his Time; more by Token _Michael
Angiolo_ (the greater Shame to him!) had put in his Face for that of our
SAVIOUR in his Scholar's famous Picture of the Raising of _Lazarus_.
Howbeit, e'en a Queen, it seemeth, may woo in vain. She sent for _Pole_
with a legatine Power, and moreover writ private Letters unto him and to
the _Pope_ with her own Hand. But, albeit the _Pope_ rejoiced in his
Heart at the Thought of regaining _England_, _Pole_ gave such manifest
Signals of hanging back until the Queen were married, as that her Grace
without more Ado entertained Proposals from _Philip_ of _Spain_; she
having, thirty Years before, been promised to his Father!

This Year, Master _Hewet_ was made _Sheriff_. Well remember I young
Mistress _Anne_, tripping down from her Closet in sky-blue Taffeta, and
flirting a little Feather-fan as she passed me, crying, "Make Way for
the _Sheriff's_ Daughter! Oh, _Ned_, how grand I am!—

  _'Thereof the Mayor he was full fain,
  An' eke the Sheriff also_—'"

I said, "Sure, Mistress, the _Sheriff_ in that Song came to no Good—I
wist not ye had so much Pride."

 [Illustration: JJ
 "Make way for the Sheriff's Daughter"]

She looked about on me with her sweet, smiling Face, and said, "I've no
Pride for myself, _Edward_, but I may have for him!—May I not? may I
not?" playfully calling after me as I turned away. I said, "Oh,
forsooth, Mistress, ye can do no Wrong."

"Is that in jest or earnest?" saith she, growing serious. "Am I proud,
_Edward_?"

When I saw her wistful Look, and thought within me how much indeed she
had to be both proud and vain of, yet was neither, I could carry it no
farther, but said, "In sooth, sweet Mistress, you are not."

"All's right then," quod she gaily, and hastened to the Window to see
the new Sheriff mount his gray Horse, richly caparisoned. Thereafter,
_Miles_ and I attended her and Mistress _Fraunces_ to the River Stairs,
where the Company were to embark on a Pleasure-party; I thought the
Barge had a goodly and lovely Freight!

Meantime, the Rumour of the Queen's Match occasioned great Murmuring
throughout the Land. And Sir _Thomas Wyat_, a _Kentish_ Gentleman,
concerted with the Duke of _Suffolk_ and Sir _Peter Carew_ to take Arms
and promote a general Rising, so soon as the _Prince_ of _Spain_ should
set Foot on _English_ Ground. The Duke, no Doubt, looked for the
Re-establishment of his Daughter, Lady _Jane_, now under Sentence, but
allowed the Liberty of the Tower. Sir _Thomas_, Son to that _Wyat_ of
_Allington Castle_ who writ good Verses, had oft been Ambassadour to
_Spain_, where the Cruelty and Subtlety of the People made him tremble
at the Thought of their obtaining a Footing in his native Land. But
alack! _Hew_, how many crying Evils must conspire together to give any
just Pretence for a Rising against constituted Authorities! And a
defeated Rebellion always strengthens the Hands of Government. So it was
in this Instance. We had not as yet been visited with Scourges nor
whipped with Scorpions; 'twas only the Fear of what might be, (presaged,
'tis true enough, by many Foretokens,) that tempted Men to shed Blood
and endanger their Heads for the Sake of their Country. Wherefore, a
Bird of the Air, I suppose, carrying the Matter, Sir _Peter Carew_,
finding the Plot bewrayed, takes Thought only for himself, and flies
over Seas; and _Wyat_, thinking the Hour unripe, yet purposing rather to
hurry forward than retreat, taketh Arms with the declared Aim of doing
no Hurt to the Queen's Person, but of removing her evil Counsellors.

Thereon the City was all Confusion. Though the 'Prentices had pelted the
_Spanish_ Ambassadours with Snow-balls, and elder People had spoken
against them under their Breath, yet that natural Loyalty there is in
the City, save under the most aggravating Circumstances, drew every one
together to make common Cause with the Queen so soon as 'twas bruited
that _Wyat_ was up in _Kent_. Five hundred of the Trained Bands were
forthwith sent out against him, and the City began to be kept with
harnessed Men.

The Lord Mayor, this Year, was Sir _Thomas White_, Merchant-taylor; he
that founded St. _John's_ College, _Oxford_. To him, at the _Guildhall_,
cometh my Lord Treasurer, and prayeth him to have at the least two
thousand Men in Harness at all Hours, for the Safeguard of the City. Now
begin the young Men of every Degree to look out and furbish their Arms
and Accoutrements; and the Hum of Preparation is heard throughout the
Stretes. Post following hot upon Post bringeth Tidings that the Duke of
_Suffolk_ in _Warwickshire_, having with all his Industry gotten
together but fifty Men, had given up the Game and betaken himself to a
Tenant of his, who kept him three Days hid in a hollow Oak till he was
taken; but that _Wyat_, with at least four thousand Men, (some made it
fourteen thousand,) was marching fast upon _Southwark_, and the Trained
Bands had gone over to him, which caused the Duke of _Norfolk_, sent
against him, to retreat.

Here then was a Prospect for the Bridge! the only Access by which he
could command the City. Thou shouldst have seen the Duke ride back, all
crestfallen, with his Guard at his Heels, all smirched and
tatterdemoiled, without Arrows or Strings to their Bows, or a Sword to
their Sides, or a Cap to their Heads. Some of the Urchins cried after
them, "A _Wyat_! a _Wyat_!" and got well cuffed for their Pains.

Then came the News of a Rising in _Hertfordshire_. On this the Queen
cometh to _Guildhall_, with the Lord Chancellor and all her Council,
guarded by a notable Company of Men at Arms; and, bespeaking the Lord
Mayor and Aldermen, she pleaded sore they would stand by her against the
Arch-traitor that aimed at removing her Counsellors and having the
Custody of her Person; affirming and alleging that she would never once
have entertained thought of her Marriage, had it not been infused into
her by others that 'twas expedient for the Country. When I heard Master
_Hewet's_ Report of her Argument, I remembered the Saying of Master
_Askew_ the Draper to Lord _Warwick's_ Man, 'That the City could
sometimes better spare the Court than the Court the City.'

They protested they would stand by her—could they do less? And
forthwith, Proclamation was made to this Effect:—Now then, let every
Man that is disaffected, and every Man that is faint-hearted, and every
Man that is of unstable Mind, be off as fast as he can. There's _Wyat_
ready to welcome all Well-wishers, coming along the _Kent Road_; and
_London Bridge_ is just now open to all those that like to join him,
which it will not be to-morrow; for the Draw-bridge is going to be sawn
asunder and cast into the River, the Gates are going to be shut, the
Gate-houses are going to be manned, the Cannons are going to be planted
to defend them and to take the Range of the _Borough_, the Lord Mayor
and Sheriffs in Harness are going to stand immediately behind the Gate,
and every Man on the Bridge will close his Windows and stand in his Door
with his 'Prentices armed and ready to do Battle. GOD save the Queen!

Not many crossed the Bridge after that. Those that did were glad to
explain 'twas on necessary and lawful Business, or they got hooted and
sometimes pelted. The Lord Mayor went with my Master into every House,
to see its Condition and Defence. When they reached the Door of the old
Lady that lived all by herself alone with her Cats, they could gain no
Entrance, nor hear Sound of Life within save a dismal Mewing. Master
_Hewet_ was for departing, saying he believed the House safe enough
though its Owner was shy of Strangers; but my Lord Mayor said a silent
House was not always the safest, and there might be Spies and even
harnessed Men shut up. So they persisted knocking; and at length a
skinny old Woman, all trembling with Fear, peered forth and would wit
what 'twas all about. When they told her the Bridge was going to be put
in a State of Defence for Queen _Mary_, she cried, "GOD save her sweet
Majesty!" and let them in, shutting and bolting the Door behind them.
She sayth, "Oh! Sirs, I see ye be loyal and honourable Gentlemen, well
affected to our blessed Queen, wherefore I fear not to trust you with my
Secret—howbeit, I am not the only one in this House."

The Lord Mayor gave a quick Look at Master _Hewet_.

—"I was, you must know," continued she, "Sub-prioress of a small
religious House at _Mickleham_ in _Surrey_ ... there were but six of us;
we were harmless and happy enough; howbeit, the Eighth _Harry_, that
called himself Defender of our Faith, turned us out Neck and Heels when
he put down the lesser Monasteries; and my Father, to whom this House
belonged, gave me Shelter in it during his Life, and left it to me at
his Death. Whereby I have been enabled to give House-room and Board to
my aged Superior, who otherwise would have been cast into the Strete,
through all the evil Times; none witting she was under my Roof. And now
that better Days are come, she is past any Advantage of them, being long
Time bed-rid, as ye shall see."

So she hobbled up-stairs before them, followed by her half-dozen Cats,
and led the Way into a Chamber having a bright Wood Fire kindled on the
Hearth, but nearly bare of Furniture, beyond a Chair, a Table, a
Crucifix, and a Couple of Tressel-beds, on one of which lay an old
Woman, sleeping, on the utmost Verge of Life. She mutely pointed to her,
then led them over the rest of the House, which was utterly disfurnished
and chiefly shut up; she having got rid of the Moveables for what they
would fetch, through the Agency of her only Confidant, Sir _Tobias_. So
now you have the Story of the old Lady that was supposed to live all
alone by herself with her Cats.

_Miles_' black Eyes kindled like Coals at the Thought of defending the
Bridge.... I confess I felt a Glow within me, and handled my Bill and
Bow with exceeding Complacence. The Mayor complimented my Master on
having a Couple of such smart Lads, and said his Premises would be well
defended. Also he said he wished he had such a fair Daughter as Mistress
_Anne_, who served him with Bread and Wine.

If the Queen were ever popular, it was that Time! What joyous Smiles and
brisk Words were exchanged as People ran along the Bridge!—what Glory
attended the Guards that manned the Gates!—how we revelled in every
Blow that cut down the Draw-bridge! Splash! it went into the River.
Spontaneously we gave three Cheers. Just before the Approach was cut
off, Lord _William Howard_, (since, Lord _Howard_ of _Effingham_,) with
fifty of his Men, rode over the Bridge to St. _George's_ Church,
_Southwark_, to note the State of Things, and so back. I remember his
looking gaily over his Shoulder as he passed, crying out in Hearing of
us all, "This Bridge hath to-day a Chance of being the _Thermopylæ_ of
_London_!"

 [Illustration: J Jellicoe
 "Rode over the Bridge"]

A Messenger from the Rebels came to parley, and was led blindfold across
the Bridge, to and from Lord _Pembroke_, Commander in Chief.

On _Saturday_ Morning, _Wyat_ was proclaimed Traitor, and a Price set on
his Head. There was a grand Muster of Horse and Foot in _Finsbury
Fields_. At three in the Afternoon, _Wyat_ advanced upon _London_ from
_Deptford_; and, as soon as his Movement was perceived, an eight Pounder
was levelled at him from the White Tower, the Shot of which took none
Effect. Immediately my Lord Mayor and the Sheriffs made Haste to _London
Bridge_: we gave them three Cheers. The Strete was presently choaked;
People removing their Stalls and Wares, Shop Shutters putting up, young
Men running up and down to Weapons and Harness, young Women beginning to
shed Tears, Children and Maids shutting themselves up in the upper
Stories.

My Hands trembled so with Emotion I could scarce fasten a Buckle.
Mistress _Anne_, passing, sayth, "Let me do it for you—Ladies of old
Time buckled on Knights' Harness and bade them good Speed, as I bid
you.... But oh! _Ned_, I am in Fear for my _Father_." I said, "But he
hath no Fear, unless for you. Therefore look not forth; the only Danger
is in a random Shot."

Then she asked me what I thought would happen if the worst came to the
worst. I told her I had not thought about it, so sure was I the best
would come to the best. She said she thought so too; at least she hoped
so; and bade me tell every Word of News I heard through the Wicket.
Presently I heard that _Wyat_, with his Army, was close beyond the
further Bridge Gate; and had pointed two Pieces of Ordnance against the
Bridge: which I thought needless to tell Mistress _Anne_.

He was a fine Fellow, _Hew_, in his Way, there's no gainsaying. He
thought to free his Country from Harm; and, when he heard a Price was
set upon his Head, he wrote his Name on a Slip of Paper and set it on
his Cap.

My Master was a-foot and in Harness on the Bridge all Night. The Women
kept close and quite still above-stairs, while _Miles_ and I kept Watch
below, but, I wot, they were as wakeful as ourselves. Towards Daydawn my
Master comes in: Mistress _Anne_, in her white Wrapper over her Dress,
leans over the Rail at the Stair-head, and cryeth, "Is all well?" "All
well, my Heart!" returns her Father. "Oh! thank GOD," cries she; and
meeting him half-way down the Stair, casts herself into his Arms.

'Twas _Sunday_ Morning; and maybe, a Day of much Prayer, if of little
Church-going: but scarcely a Day of Rest. A Banner of Defiance was
unfurled a-top of the Tower, and a heavy Piece of Ordnance discharged
when they changed the Watch.

Lord _Howard_ was walking to and fro on the Bridge, his Sword clanking
at every firm, heavy Tread; and anon he goeth to the Gate at the
_Southwark_ End, and calleth in a loud, determined Voice, "_Wyat!_"

Presently some one makes Answer, "What would ye with him?"

"I would speak with him," sayth my Lord.

Answereth the other, "Our Captain is busy; if ye have any Message for
him, I will bear it."

"Marry," sayth my Lord, "ask of him what he meaneth by this Invasion;
and whether he continue in his Purpose or no."

The Messenger departed; and in about three Quarters of an Hour returned
with a weighted Purse, containing Master _Wyat's_ Answer; which, being
flung over the Gate, was received and read by my Lord, who tare it up,
as good for Nought. On the _Saturday_ Afternoon, all Boats had been
brought to the City Side of the River, not to be taken therefrom on Pain
of Death.

My Lord _Howard_ turning in to our House about Noon, for Refreshment,
looketh fixedly on _Miles_, and sayth, "So you are young _Osborne_."
"No, my Lord," quod I, stepping forward, "I am he;" thinking he had
Somewhat to say unto me; but he only looked hard at me, and said "Oh."

At Table, my Master helping him to Wine, he sayth, "That is a rare
Brilliant on your little Finger, Master _Hewet_—may I be favoured with
a nearer View of it?" "My Lord," sayth Master _Hewet_, "it is a
Token-ring: I never take it off.—However," quod he presently, "you
shall see it, and read the Posy inside; connecting it with the Matter we
spake of just now." I noted a singular Smile on my Lord _Howard's_ Face
as he returned it.

That Night, like the last, was spent in Harness, but passed not, like
the last, without Event. The Weather was piercing cold; and a good
Watch-fire was kept up just within the Gate, whereat my Lord _Howard_,
Sir _Andrew Judd_, the _Lord Mayor_, Master _Hewet_, and others, stood
and warmed themselves. Meantime, Master _Wyat_, anxious to reconnoitre,
breaks down the Wall of a House adjoining the Gate on his side the
Draw-bridge, by which Breach he ascendeth the Leads of the Gate-house,
and thence coming down into the Porter's Lodge, it being about eleven o'
the Clock, he findeth the Porter sleeping, but his Wife, with sundry
others, watching over a Fire of Coals. On beholding _Wyat_ they suddenly
started; but he commanded them to keep quiet as they valued their Lives,
and they should sustain no Hurt; so they having no Courage to oppose
him, he went forth of the other Side the Gate-house to look across to
the Bridge. There, beyond the Chasm, within the second Gate, he noteth
my _Lord Deputy_, the _Lord Mayor_, and the Rest standing about the Fire
in their Clokes. After noting them well, and seeing there was no Hope of
taking them by Surprise, he returneth whence he came, and doeth his
Party to wit how the City strengthened itself and is on the Alert.
Peradventure to make farther Proof thereof, the Men of _Kent_ thereon
made an Uproar as it were in Sign of assaulting the Bridge, and fired
two Field Pieces. Whereat we were all alive and to Arms in an Instant;
and the Cries that ran along the Bridge shewed the Insurgents we were
ready for them.

On _Monday_ we were heartened, and doubtless _Wyat_ was disheartened, by
the Bruit of Lord _Abergavenny's_ marching upon him from _Blackheath_
with three Thousand Men. Thereon ensewed Diversity of Councils, in the
End whereof, Master _Wyat_ decided to march along the _Thames_ next Day,
to get Access to _Middlesex_ by _Kingston Bridge_. One of the
Lieutenant's Men of the Tower being despatched on special Charge across
to the Bishop of _Winchester's_ Palace, a Waterman of the Tower Stairs
prayed him for a Cast in his Boat, which he granted. Seven of _Wyat's_
Men being on the Look-out, levelled their Arquebusses at the Boat,
charging them to re-land, which they not complying with, the Men
discharged their Pieces with mortal Effect; for the poor Waterman fell
dead, and the Sculler with much Terror rowed back, through the Bridge,
to the Tower Wharf. The Lieutenant, in a mighty Heat at what had
happened, levelled seven great Pieces of Ordnance full against the south
End of the Bridge and against _Southwark_, besides all the Guns on the
White Tower, and over the Watergate, so that the Men and Women dwelling
in _Southwark_ rushed confusedly to Master _Wyat_, and prayed him to
take Pity on them, or they should be utterly undone and destroyed.
Whereat, he, partly abashed, said, "I pray you, Friends, have Patience a
little, and I will presently relieve you of your Fears." And so, gave
Orders to march; and cleared out of _Southwark_ about eleven of the
Clock on _Shrove Tuesday_, without leaving a Penny unpaid to the
Inhabitants, or doing the least Damage beyond sacking and destroying the
Bishop of _Winchester's_ Palace and Library. Thus ended our three Days'
Beleaguerment. Now, leaving the Bridge in sufficient Guard, Master
_Hewet's_ Post lay at one of the City Gates: and a general Muster in St.
_James's Field_ was proclaimed for Six o' the Clock next Morning.

At four o' Clock, however, the Drums called to Arms, _Wyat_ having
crossed at _Kingston_ and being already at _Brentford_. The
Law-Serjeants went to _Westminster Hall_, that Morning, with Harness
under their Gowns, and the Queen's Chaplain sung Mass before her with
Harness under his Vestments. By ten o' the Clock my Lord _Pembroke's_
Troop of Horse hovered about _Wyat's_ Party, and Ordnance began to be
fired on both Sides; whereon the Screams of Women and peaceable People
at _Charing Cross_, as well as the Firing, could be heard at the Tower.
_Wyat_ drove back my _Lord Chamberlain's_ Guard, and marched on to
_Ludgate_ in disorderly Array. There he knocked at the Gate; and my Lord
_Howard_ from within asked who knocked: and on his giving his Name,
cried, "Avaunt, Traitor! thou enterest not here." Sundry of his Men
cried, "Queen _Mary_ hath granted our Request, and given us Pardon!" but
'twas known for a Feint; so they had Nought for it but to return whence
they came; and at _Charing Cross_ the Fight was renewed and waxed hot.
At length, a Herald called on _Wyat_ to yield rather than shed more
Blood, and trust to the Queen's Mercy. Whereon, he, astonied and
dejected, replied, "Well, if I must, let me yield me to a Gentleman."
Sir _Morrice Berkeley_ bade him leap up behind him; and two others
picked up young _Cobham_ and _Knevet_, and so carried them off, and the
Fight was ended. They lay, that Night, in the Tower.

There was Somewhat mighty kindling, _Hew_, in that Defence of the
Bridge: and we all felt triumphant and thankful when the Fight was over;
but thereafter came great Gravity and Sadness, to muse on what might
have been, and on what would shortly befal those Men in the Tower. A
grievouse Thing is a Civil War.

Then Master _Hewet_,—ah! what a Shrievalty was his! but yet he thanked
God in After-time that it fell not a Year or two later—he must be
present at the beheading the poor guiltless Boy _Guilford_ _Dudley_, and
also of the Lady _Jane_. That same Day, _Hew_, there was set up a
Gallows at every Gate in _London_, and at the Bridge-foot; three or four
at _Charing Cross_ and in many other Places. About four hundred Rebels
were condemned in one Day. The Prisons were so o'er-crowded that they
were kept in Ward in Churches. The Lady _Elizabeth_ was committed to the
_Tower_; daily, new State Prisoners went in, and they that came forth,
'twas but to their Scaffolds. _Suffolk_, _Wyat_, the _Greys_—'twas an
awful Time to be Sheriff! There were City Feasts; but Men met to look
one another in the Face and ask what would come next, rather than for
Potacion and Refection.




CHAPTER IX

_Osborne is out of his Time_


I was out of my Time; and was examined by the Master and Wardens of our
Company whether I had duly and faithfully served my Apprenticeship: and
being found sufficient and allowed, was presented to the Chamberlain of
_London_ to be made free; was sworn, and paid Two-and-sixpence.

I remember one of the Wardens eyed me rather curiously when I went up;
and said, "So thou art young _Osborne_?" "Yea," quod the other, "the
Knight of the Flying Leap!" an old Joke I thought every one had
forgotten. Howbeit they shook Hands with me, and said they wished every
Master as good a 'Prentice.

Thereafter I went to see _Tomkins_, whom I had lost Sight of a long
Time. His Wife was spreading a clean Diaper over the Table, his little
Girl playing with a Kitten on the Hearth, and a straggling Sunbeam
through the Lattice was lighting up his pale, placid Face as he sate at
his Loom. I have thought since, that ministering Spirits might have been
passing to and fro on that Beam, unperceivable to my mortal Sense.

"Ha!" quod he, "this is a pleasant Sight. What! the blue Gown is thrown
off at last! But how? no Scallops? no Slashes? no Taffeta-lined Cloke,
nor Shirt edged with Silver? Thou keepest within the Statute, at all
Events. Why, _Miles_ goes as fine as a Popinjay! Howbeit, I like your
dark brown better than his Eggs and Spinach; 'tis good Taste, Lad, not
to dress above one's Degree. All the World can see which is the
Gentleman's Son, which the Burreller's."

"Thou art e'en too hard on poor _Miles_," quod I. "He is working very
hard just now in hope of marrying."

"All the better," saith _Tomkins_; "many a second-rate Fellow is made
better by a first-rate Wife. What? is he thinking of _Tryphosa_?"

"Oh no," quod I, laughing, "he thinks her quite too old."

"Look you there now!" quod he, much amused, "too old, forsooth! To hear
how Boys talk! Marry, you must sup with us, and tell me about
Everything; that is, if you can condescend to eat aught but
Manchet-bread in these grand Days. Step down to _Fishmongersrow_, dear
_Dinah_, and fetch us a Crab."

"That's a long Step, _Tomkins_," observed his Wife, "would not Something
I could get nearer do as well?"

"No," quod he gently, "I want a Crab, and I want it from thence; so
oblige me, good _Dinah_."

"That I will," replied she, cheerfully, tying on her Hood, and departing
the next Minute with her Child in her Arms.

"I remember," quod _Tomkins_, laughing, "how you and _Miles_ played away
at the Crab on our Wedding-day. And if you spurn such homely Dainties
now, you'll be Home in Time for your real Supper after all. 'Tis but
Three o' the Clock."

"To hear you Talk," said I, "one would think we lived just now in
_Lubberland_, where the Rivers run Gravy and Apple-sauce, and the roast
Pigs run about, saying, Come eat me."

"Why, is not Master _Hewet_ Sheriff?" quod _Tomkins_, "and doth he not
ride a gray Horse and wear a velvet Coat and a Jewel in his Cap? Sure,
you must be steeped in Wassail and Feasting."

"Ah," quod I, "there's little real Mirth in it. Seldom do we see a Smile
now on Master _Hewet's_ Face ... Mistress _Anne_ is in the Country;
Mistress _Fraunces_ does the Honours with all Grace, many People come
and go, new Servants wait, many fine Dishes are cooked and eaten; but
the Times are so bad, there is little Hilarity with it all."

"Aye?" quod he, lowering his Voice, "is't e'en so?" Then changing his
Manner altogether, he rose, sate by the Fire, and pointed me to a Seat
over-against him.

"_Ned_," saith he, "what is to be looked for, when the very Heavens
above, though without articulate Voice or Sound, proclaim coming
Judgment? Two Suns shining at once i' the Firmament! The Bow of Mercy,
not indeed withdrawn, but _reversed_; the Bow turned downward and the
two Ends standing upward! Didst see it?"

I said, I did; it had puzzled the Wise and affrighted the Weak.

"Well might it do either or both," quod he. "Well! ... we shall see what
comes of it. These Foreshadows are sometimes sent in Mercy, that
thoughtful People may prepare. 'Fearful Sights and great Signs shall
there be from Heaven.' 'And when these Things begin to come to pass,
lift up your Heads, for your Redemption draweth nigh.' 'And he that
endureth unto the End, the same shall be saved.' 'Settle it therefore in
your Hearts not to meditate beforehand what ye shall answer; for _I_
will give you a Mouth and Wisdom that all your Adversaries shall not be
able to gainsay nor resist.' 'In your patience possess ye your Souls.'"

"_Tomkins!_" cried I, filled with sudden Admiration, "thou couldst not
always have thus quoted and applied the Bible!"

"Lad," quod he, "Times are altered. I don't suppose there was ever a
quiet, fair-spoken Man nearer the Edge of the Pit of Destruction than I
was, a few Years back. Just as I was trifling on the Brink, _a Child's_
Voice called me back. _Ned!_ 'twas thine. I had known, for Months and
Years, what 'twas to lie down with a Heart ill at Peace with GOD. He
that is very glad to get into a good and safe Covert, will not waste his
Time in dallying with too curious Subtleties. Since I have gone the Way
I should, Years have seemed like Days! I have tasted the _Life of Life_:
yet never was more ready to lay it down at my Master's Feet! 'Tis all I
have to give him!"

"I hope," said I, after a Pause, "there will be no Need."

"But what have we to expect?" quod he. "Here's the Mass and all its
Mummery revived on every Hand, Mass Priests set in the Place of godly
Preachers, and good Men deprived and cast into Prison. _Philip_ of
_Spain_ and Cardinal _Pole_ will presently sweep all before them, and
make a clear House on 't! Do you remember—but, peradventure 'twas
before thy Time—Master _Chester_ coming to Master _Hewet_, and putting
it to him what he should do with a 'Prentice Lad of his, one _Lawrence
Saunders_, whom he had overheard hard wrestling in Prayer, and found
wholly given to spiritual Contemplation and the reading of godly Books?
Master _Hewet_ advised his cancelling his Indentures and sending him to
_Cambridge_, which he did; and the good Youth did no small Credit to his
kind and enlightened Master. But, last _October_, _Ned_, he preached a
Sermon in _All-hallows'_ Church, the pure Doctrine whereof brought him
into Trouble; for _Bonner_ and the Chancellor called him a frenzy Fool
and committed him to Prison, where he hath lain, in great hardness, ever
since; nor will come forth, I fear me, except to be burned. Then there's
good Bishop _Hooper_—"

"Ah," said I, "when he was committed to the _Fleet_ last _September_, he
had nothing for his Bed but a little Pad of Straw and a rotten Covering,
with a Tick and a few Feathers therein, in a foul and unwholesome
Chamber. And this we had from his Man _John Downton_, Brother to our
Maid _Damaris_; whereon Master _Hewet_ sent him Money and a good Bed."

"Then there's young _Hunter_ the 'Prentice," continued _Tomkins_, "was
brought up for refusing to receive the Mass Communion this Easter. His
Master contrived to send him down to his Father's at _Brentwood_, where
he presently fell again into Trouble for reading of the Bible that lay
on the Clerk's Desk, and was set in the Stocks twenty-four Hours. And
then they sent him up to _Bonner_, who set him in the Stocks at his own
Gate for two Days and two Nights, with only a Crust of Bread and a Cup
of Water; the Lad's young Brother all the while sitting by him. Then he
was cast into the Convict Prison, as heavily ironed as one of his tender
Years could bear, and hath lain there ever since, with a Halfpenny a Day
for his Keep. Could you or I shew such Constancy, think you?"

"You might, but I could not," said I.

"_You_ might, but _I_ might not," sighed he—"not the Thing that will
follow."

And, suddenly thrusting his Hand into the very midst of the Fire, which
was burning fiercely, he as suddenly plucked it out; turning on me a
Look I shall never forget! It expressed the Anguish of a Man weighed in
the Balance and found wanting. We sate for a few Seconds in perfect and
most painful Silence; his Hand, in great Blisters, resting on his Knee.
Suddenly I started up and laid my Hand on his Shoulder.

"_Tomkins_," cried I, "what are you thinking of?"

"I was thinking," returned he with filling Eyes, "how unworthy I was of
the SAVIOUR that died for me."

"But your Hand! did not you feel the Smart?"

"My _Hand_?" cried he, starting and looking down upon it. "_No, not just
then!_ I'd forgotten it."

"See! see!" cried I, "what may be the Victory of the Spirit over the
Flesh! What has been, may be again. As our Day, our Strength shall be."

The large Tears came into his Eyes. "_Ned_," quod he, "I will never
doubt it again."

"And now," said I, "let me dress your Hand, for I know Something of
Burns." So I went out and got white Cotton Wool, and wrapped a great Pad
of it about his Hand, and tied it up neatly; and, just at that Time, his
Wife came in with the Crab.

"Why, what's the Matter?" cried she, changing Colour.

"Nothing at all, my Love," returned her Husband cheerfully, "save that
I've burnt my Hand."

"Ah," said she, "you wist the Handle of the Kettle was loose.... I won't
pity you at all! _Is_ it a very bad Hurt, though?"

"Nothing to speak of," quod he.

"Forsooth, and you couldn't smile so, an' 'twere—only thou hast made
such a great Bundle of it. Shall I tie it up neater for thee, Husband?"

"No, sweet Heart, it does well enough. So now for the Crab.... And so
young Mistress _Anne_ is in the Country?"

"At the Hall," quod I, "with her Uncle."

"Ah," sayth he quietly, "the Squire hath two fair Sons ... I think she
will settle down there one of these Days."




CHAPTER X

_Evil Times bring Evil Crimes_


I love not to think of that Year: still less of those which followed
after it! In _July_, _Philip_ of _Spain_ landed on our Shores, and as he
placed his Foot for the first Time on _British_ Ground, he drew his
Sword, and carried it a little Way naked in his Hand; which, if it meant
Anything, certes did mean no Good. The Mayor of _Southampton_ brought
him the Keys of the Town, which he took and gave back without the least
Token of Good-will or Civility for the Respect. Five Days thereafter,
his Marriage with the Queen was solemnized at _Winchester_, he being
seven and twenty, and she eight and thirty; and thereon they were
together proclaimed as King and Queen of _England_. An Evil Song to
_English_ Ears! But oh! the Shews and Pageants that were got up to
welcome them in _London_! Giants, offering Addresses; our Condyts
running Wine; and what not?

Thereafter, the Queen and her King behoved to go to _Hampton Court_;
where, I will just observe, the Hall-door was continually kept shut, so
as no Man might enter, unless his Errand were first known; which might
perhaps be the Fashion in _Spain_, but to plain, honest _Englishmen_,
seemed very strange.

About this Time there were so many _Spaniards_ in _London_, that for one
_Englishman_ in the Stretes thou mightest meet four _Spaniards_, with
their long, sly Slits of Eyes, and hairy Faces; so that it behoved _us_
to keep our Hall-doors shut and look to our Spoons, for I never heard
the King Consort undertook to stand Bail for them. About _September_
they went their Ways; not entirely paying their Bills.

About this Time, the Disaffection of the Body Politic was betrayed by a
small Rising in _Suffolk_, soon put down. Howbeit, it gave Occasion for
a Talk of twelve thousand _Spaniards_ coming over to strengthen the
Crown. Also, from the Queen's common Ordinary of her Household was
struck off twenty-two Messes of Meat; which was considered to be paring
the Cheese rather close.

Also, the new Coins were issued: them that we call the Double-face. The
_Spanish_ Prince, to buy good Opinion, had brought over Heaps of Gold
with him. In one Day, there came to the Tower twenty Carts guarded by
_Spaniards_, each containing twenty-seven Chests of Treasure, matted
about with Mats. But Gold won't buy Love: the common Talk was how he
held himself close, and lived sullen, without ever an _English_ Lord at
Court save only the Bishop of _Winchester_.

Then Bishop _Bonner_ began his Visitation, to see the old Service set
up, and paint out the Scripture Texts on the Church-walls, and set up
the Images. They say that, in conducting this Matter, he was little
short of a raging Madman, whenever he met with any, the least
Opposition.... I think thou mayst believe it of him, when thou hearest
what I have presently to say.

Master _Hewet's_ Shrievalty was out; and never was Man better pleased to
slip his Neck out of the Collar. We were sitting peaceably together,
when a Woman comes in to him all in Tears. 'Twas _Tomkins'_ Wife, poor
_Dinah_, to do us to wit that _Tomkins_, with sundry others, had been
apprehended by Bishop _Bonner_, and taken for Examination to his Palace
at _Fulham_. "And, unless their Manhood fail them," quo' she, weeping,
"we may give them up for lost; for he makes the Real Presence a Net for
catching Small and Great." We comforted her all we could; but she spake
too true a Word.

The Constancy of this poor Weaver, _Hew_, shewn under Examination, was
very notable. There were six Prisoners in all; but _Tomkins_, perhaps on
Account of his being the elder of them, was brought most forward. To
intimidate these poor Men the more, Bishop _Bonner_ had got together a
goodly Muster of his Clergy and Friends, Dr. _Chedsey_, Master
_Harpsfield_, and others. Beginning the Attack, according to his Wont,
with the Real Presence, he put it to _Tomkins_ whether or no he believed
in Transubstantiation. On _Tomkins'_ meekly but firmly confessing he did
not, and giving his Reasons for that Confession, _Bonner_ struck him on
the Face with his Fist, and violently tore out a Handful of his Beard.
_Tomkins_ bare this in Silence, remembering Him who stood before
_Caiaphas_. Then _Bonner_, lashing himself up, began anew to question
him; and being still unable to catch him in his Talk, he seized him by
the Wrist; and holding his Hand over a lighted Candle of three or four
Wicks that stood on the Table, savagely kept it there till the Veins
shrank and the Sinews burst.

"But, _Ned_," quoth this meek Martyr, telling me of it in _Newgate_,
"though one of the Bishop's own Friends that stood by turned so sick
that he cried, 'Hold! enough!' I affirm unto you that I was so rapt, and
in such immediate Communion with my GOD and SAVIOUR, that, _at that
Time_, I felt or was sensible of no Pain! I say not I felt none
afterwards: I feel it now. But ne'er-theless, I tell thee, _Ned_, I am
ready not only to suffer this, but also to die for the Name of the LORD
JESUS, if it be his Will."

And many other such godly and comfortable Words he spake, both then and
during the next six Months; for I was continually with him. And, during
all that Time, his Courage never waxed faint, but he bare that long
Probation and Suspense patiently and cheerfully; never rising into
Rapture, but full of Love and Hope; and grateful exceedingly unto Master
_Hewet_, for keeping his Wife and Child in Bread all that Time.

Then saw I, how diverse, yea, how inferior is that Sort of instinctive
animal Courage which made me leap from _London Bridge_, from that moral
Courage which enableth a Man kept low, and contumeliously treated, to
support, by the Space of half an Year, the Prospect of a cruel and
lingering Death.

—Ah, Boy, thou mayest say what thou listest:—thou art a young
Soldier.—Besides, thou hast _both_ Sorts; one, maybe, from me; and one
from _her_.

And now, to crown all, came over Cardinal _Pole_, whom our _Spanish_
King came down to the Water-side to meet, so soon as he had learned he
had shot the Bridge. But in Faith, _Hew_, he was not so evil as the
others. He was no longer the Man for whom Queens might die in Love;
still less the Youth that had bandied Jests with _More_ and
_Erasmus_:—he had known Sorrow, I wot!—his Mother, his Brother, his
Cousin, had been brought with Sorrow to their Graves; and albeit his
Friends did say of him he should be called _non Polus Anglus, sed Polus
angelus_, he carried his Sadness in his Face.

And now, the Church and Realm of _England_ were proclaimed reconciled to
the Pope of _Rome_, the slavish Parliament put its Neck under the
Queen's Foot, there was great singing of _Te Deum_, and great kindling
of Bone-fires;—Alas! there were to be other Bone-fires soon.

The New Year opened ominously. About thirty Citizens, Men and Women,
privately receiving the Communion of Mr. _Rose_, their Minister, in a
House in _Bow Churchyard_, were haled to Prison. For thou seest, _Hew_,
Romanism had now, through the Slavishness of our Parliament, been
re-established as _the Law of the Land_, which all Friends of good Order
were bounden to uphold; wherefore those were constrained to break it and
be classed as bad Citizens who chose rather to abide by _the Law of_
GOD—a Dilemma that ought never to have happened. They that are set in
foremost Places are bounden to stand in the Breach, that Evil ensew not
unto them whose Place is behind them.

Now, see in what a Strait was Master _Hewet_. He and every other
Alderman had to attend _Paul's_ Church on _Paul's_ Day, where the King
and Cardinal came in great State, to give Thanks for the Re-conversion
of the Realm to the Roman Catholic Church. This was on the 25_th_; and
on the 28_th_, the Bishops had Commission from the Cardinal to try all
such Preachers and Heretics as lay in Prison. By Virtue whereof,
_Gardiner_ and the other Bishops had up before them that very Day,
Bishop _Hooper_, Mr. ROGERS, Mr. _Cardmaker_, and others, in the Church
of St. _Mary Overy_. I stood, with others, at the Church Door, to see
the Prisoners come out. They were remanded to the Compter in _Southwark_
about four o' the Clock, just as 'twas growing dark, till nine the next
Morning; and as they came forth, I saw good Bishop _Hooper_ look back
and wait a little for Master _Rogers_, whom, when he came up, he
cheerfully addressed with, "Come, Brother _Rogers_, must we two take
this Matter first in Hand, and begin to fry these Fagots?" "By GOD'S
Grace, Sir," quod _Rogers_, "we will." "Doubt not," returns the good
Bishop, "but GOD will give us that." And so passed on, Hand in Hand,
much cheered and pressed on by the People.

Next Day, they were re-examined and condemned and degraded. The Sheriffs
had much ado to guard them to the _Clink_ in _Southwark_, where they
kept them in Ward till Dark, hoping the Throng would disperse or ere
they brought them across the Bridge to _Newgate_. Howbeit, about eight
o' the Clock, I being alone and busied, heard a great Rumour, followed
by sharp, shrill Cries along the Bridge, and Master _Hewet_, stepping
in, all in a Heat, sayth, "Lights! Lights!" I mutely gave him mine, and
fetched another, and we stood at the Door, protecting the Candles from
the Wind with our Hands. Others were hastily bringing Candles to their
Doors; and still we could hear Men and 'Prentices running forward and
crying "Lights!"

"They thought to do a Deed of Darkness in the dark," quod Master
_Hewet_, wiping his Brow, "and to smuggle them across to _Newgate_ under
cover of the Night; and so sent forward to have all the Candles at the
Costermongers' Stalls extinguished ... but, if they're ashamed of their
Work, let them abye it!... GOD speed you, Master _Hooper_! GOD save you,
Master _Rogers_! The Blessing of GOD be on you and on all like you!"

"The same to you all, dear Friends!" responded the cheerful Voice of the
good Bishop as he passed. "The LORD have you all evermore in his
keeping."

And then Master _Hewet_ went in and covered his Face and wept.

 [Illustration: J Jellicoe
 "Covered his face & wept"]




CHAPTER XI

_The Blood of the Martyrs, yᵉ Seed of yᵉ Church_


I may as well tell thee now, _Hew_, by way of Relief to heavier Matters,
the ludicrous Form that _Miles's_ Protestantism took. He was never one
of the most serious; and when Master _Hewet_, at the preceding Easter,
had, on Compulsion as Alderman of the Ward, given formal Notice to every
Householder, with their Families, to prepare to confess and receive the
Sacrament, _Miles_ sayth with a knavish Look at me, "I must do Somewhat
first, to confess about."

Presently after that I heard him coaxing Mistress _Fraunces's_ white Cat
with, "Pussy, Pussy, Pussy! come to Preferment, Pussy!" But Puss, as if
she smelt Mischief in the Wind, flew up the Chimney. Then quod he,
"Thou'rt too good for the Purpose, after all. I must go pay my Duty to
the Sub-prioress that lives all alone with her Cats." Quod I, "What
Mischief are you about now?" Saith he, "If you ask no unpleasant
Questions, you'll hear no unpleasant Answers. What if I want to get up a
little Masque of Puss in Boots?"

Next Day, at dawning, there was seen in _Chepe_, on the Gallows that had
been set up for the _Kentish_ Rioters, a Cat suspended, apparelled like
a Priest ready to say Mass, with a shaven Crown, and her two forefeet
tied over her Head, with a round Paper like a Wafer-cake put between
them, as though in the Act of raising the Host. Fits of boisterous
Laughter rang through _Chepe_: howbeit, the Queen and Bishops were in
great Dudgeon; and a Proclamation was made, that same Afternoon, that
whosoever should bring forth the guilty Party should have twenty Nobles,
which was afterwards increased to twenty Marks: but I need not say that
nobody ever claimed it. I think I might have put the Money in my Pocket
if I would.

Howbeit, neither _Miles_ nor I felt ourselves called upon to confess to
the Priest; in special as Master _Hewet_ never enforced it on any, after
the first formal Notice: and I wot, he went not himself. Indeed, it was
marvellous, he said in after Years, that considering how open he laid
himself to Animadversion on these Matters, no Enemy took Advantage of
him; howbeit, I doubt if he had one; there were many to make common
Cause with him, and he was much loved throughout the Ward.

But I have not done with _Miles_ yet. The next Offence his Protestantism
took was at an Idol of _Thomas à Becket_, which the _Lord Chancellor_
caused to be set up over the Mercers' Chapel Door, in _Chepe_: which,
within two Days, had its Head lopped off in the Night. Upon this rose
great Disturbance, and one Mr. _Barnes_, a Mercer, who lived
over-against the Chapel, was vehemently accused by my Lord _Wriothesley_
of being Principal or Accessary to the Deed. He defended himself with
every Semblance of Innocence; nevertheless, he and three 'Prentices were
imprisoned for a Day or two; and, though Nothing was proven against him,
he was, on his Delivery, bound in a great Sum of Money to repair the
Image so often as it should be broken down, and also to watch and defend
the same. I should never have suspected _Miles_ of having had Aught to
do with this Matter, save for his gloomy and guilty Looks while _Barnes_
lay in Ward, and for his great Access of Gaiety when he was let forth.
Howbeit, there are some People whose absolute Genius and Destiny seems
to be Mischief; and, a Day or two after the Image's Restoration, I heard
_Miles_, after pacing up and down the Chamber awhile like a chafed Lion
in a Cage, exclaim in a Sort of Desperation, "I must do it again!" And
next Day, the _second_ Head was missing. This Time, a hundred Crowns of
Gold were offered for Discovery of the Culprit. But they never were
claimed. Then quod _Miles_, embracing me with an unwonted Ardour of
Affection, "Ned! thou'rt a capital Fellow!"

Howbeit, _Miles_ presently became absorbed in his Love-affair, which
brought his protestant Zeal to a very ignoble Termination. He now lodged
at some Distance from us, and kept his private Concerns very much to
himself. Having one Day Occasion to speak to him at his Lodging, I there
found not only his Mother, but an exceeding pretty young Woman. "_Ned!_"
quod he, "this is my Wife; I forgot to tell you before, that I was
married!" "I've a great Mind to forget it too!" sayth she, pouting, as I
went up to salute her, "the Saints be my Witness!" at which, I looked
attentively at her and then at him.

He followed me to the Door when mine Errand was sped. "_Ned_," whispered
he, and coloured all over, "there'll be no more hanging of Cats!...
She's a staunch _Roman_, is _Nell_! and I'm obliged to conform, I can
tell thee! Rely on't, there's much to be said upon both Sides!" And this
was he, had said he was as firm as _London Stone_.

I shook my Head at him, but was not, just then, going to attempt his
Conversion. By way of confirming myself in the Faith, I passed on to
_Newgate_, where I saw _Tomkins_, young _Hunter_, and their
Fellow-prisoner in the LORD, Master _Rogers_, who was to suffer the next
Morning. To hear him talk, one would have thought he saw Heaven opened,
and the bright Vision that St. _Stephen_ had, revealed to his inward
Eye; and he mightily strengthened his Brethren. His Wife being denied
Access to him, he prayed me give her a Kerchief, the only poor Token he
had to send; and to bid her, if she had Strength for 't, to be by the
Wayside with the Children, next Morn, on the Way to _Smithfield_. I took
her there myself; the poor Soul was wondrously supported; and when the
good Man came by, I held one of his little Children towards him,
prompting him to say, "The LORD will strengthen thee, Father!" Which,
indeed, he did.

Well, after the Euthanasy of this blessed Proto-martyr, who, as though
to confirm the Courage of those that came after, did literally wash his
Hands in the Flame as if he felt no Smart, _Tomkins'_ Courage, strange
to say, greatly departed from him, and he doubted much if he should hold
firm unto the End. Thereon, great Prayer was made for him by his
Brethren in Bonds, and, I am bold to say, at one or two solitary
Bed-sides: and it came to pass, at all Events, that he was strengthened
to go through his next Examination, with young _Hunter_ and the Rest, in
_Paul's_ Consistory, five Days after _Rogers_ was burned. The Lad
_Hunter_, who stood by his Brother to the Last, heard all five Prisoners
condemned to die by _Bonner_.

Thereon Mistress _Fraunces_ and I went, under Shadow of Evening, to
_Tomkins'_ Wife. She was in strong Fits, with sundry poor Women about
her; and, leaving Mistress _Fraunces_ to add to their tender
Ministrations, I went on to _Newgate_, if haply Master _Hewet's_ Name
might still serve me to have Access to my poor Friend. Directly I saw
him I knew, by the mild steady Light in his Eye, that his Courage was
safe! "_Ned_," quod he, "I was given over a little While unto Darkness,
just to let me feel that the Strength within me was none of mine; but
now, my Friend hath come back to me, and I rejoice in his Light! Soon we
shall be eternally together; and oh! how much we shall have to tell and
to hear. Little will it matter, then, whether my Ashes were scattered to
the four Winds, or collected in a stone Jug like a _Roman's_. Direct
poor _Dinah_ to the seventy-seventh Psalm; I know it will comfort her.
Dear Master _Hewet_ will keep her from Want; and she will presently
retire to her Friends in the Country. So, thou seest, I have no Fear for
Temporalities! Look! she hath made me this long white Shirt to wear
to-morrow; my Wedding-garment, I call it. Tell her every Stitch she set
in it evidenced her Faith, as every Blow wherewith _Abraham_ clave the
Fagots whereon to offer his Son, proved his. And a lighter Sacrifice is
exacted of her, for she hath not to slay me, only to resign me. And now,
good speed, good _Ned_.... Don't be at _Smithfield_ to-morrow, only
stand by the Way as I go along ... thou hast risked too much for me
already."

In Sooth I ne'er thought twice of the Risk; but I doubted whether what
he could bear to _feel_, I could bear to _see_. I stood over-against the
Door as he came forth; our Eyes met; and in a Tone that had Somewhat of
Musicalness in it that searched and sank into the very Heart, he sayth,
"The Night is far spent, Lad! the Day is at Hand!"

Those Token-words drew me irresistibly after him. I felt no Fear, no
Horror just then; only that our two Souls clave together, and that mine
must keep near his till 'twas caught up. So I kept a little in advance,
and eyed him now and then, that he might just see I stood by him; and I
think it gave him Pleasure, for I once heard him say, "The Presence of a
Friend, that cleaveth to us unto Death, how good is it!"

But Martyrs were forbidden to make long Speeches on Pain of having their
Tongues cut out; and indeed, their Constancy preached enow. Wherefore
this was the last Word I heard from his Lips, for he seemed entirely
addressing himself to another Friend whom we could neither hear nor see.
And, when he got to the Place, I saw him put his Arms affectionately
about the Stake and kiss it, (they all did that,) and then lay aside his
poor Weaver's Garments, prison-worn and tattered, and put on what seemed
indeed the white Robe of Immortality, and then stand firm while they put
the Chain about his Waist. Just then a Man pushed rudely past me with a
Fagot; and there was a Rush and a Press of New-comers that jostled me
from my Place and wanted to feed their greedy Appetites with a good
Man's Pain as if 'twere a mere Show. I pushed at them again, and
struggled forward, amid Blows and reviling, and gat Sight of a Puff of
Smoke, and a bright Flame leaping up. Just then, the Sun, breaking forth
from a stormy Cloud, shone full upon his Face, which, looking upward
with a joyous Smile, seemed transfigured by it. I could see no more ...
mine Eyes were blinded, my Throat choked. I pushed my Way through the
Crowd and went Home to pray for—myself, not for him!




CHAPTER XII

_A Snake among yᵉ Flowers_


I can give thee, _Hew_, no very connected Account of the Rest of that
Season.... One Horror followed another—the Land was full of Blood, and
Fire, and Vapour of Smoke. We went softly, and lived gloomy, and
wretched, and desolate.

Sometimes I wished my Turn would come: then, dreaded it. _Tomkins_ was
continually before mine Eyes. At last, I suppose I altered so, that
Master _Hewet_ sent me down to my Mother, to keep quiet awhile in the
Country.

Oh! what Happiness that was! The Tears we then shed together had Healing
in them; and soon, away from all hateful Sounds and Sights, we gave over
weeping altogether. My Mother, I found, had, in the first Instance,
outwardly conformed; _kissed Baal_, in Fact; and then, like a good many
other timid yet well-meaning Persons, found many Excuses to make for
having so done, which yet failed to allay Self-disapprobation, and ended
in Contrition and Resolutions of doing so no more. She was favourably
placed for the keeping of such Resolves; having moved out of _Ashford_,
to a remote Country-farm, too far from a Place of Worship for regular
Attendance, wherefore she had set a-foot a little Church within her
House, that was served, under the Rose, by a deprived Minister
harbouring in the Neighbourhood. One of my younger Brothers, a goodly
Lad, was at School; the other, a sickly Urchin, dwelt at Home, inactive
but very happy.

So here I tarried, Thanks to good Master _Hewet_! till my Mind quite
regained its Strength, as happy as a Rook on _Sundays_, as we say in
_Kent_. The Change was so great, that my Absence seemed much longer than
it really was. On my Return to _London_, as I rode along _Kentstrete_,
my Heart seemed to fly forward to what, in Course of Years, had become
my very Home. And, when we were all re-united beneath the same Roof, and
I had fallen into my old Course, with very little Interference with the
World without, I shortly began to be ware of a deep, new, inward Source
of Happiness, that for a While I neither could nor would understand.
Whatever I did, wherever I went, the very Air I breathed seemed to have
a Glow, and Sweetness, and Freshness in it, whether my Errand led me
through the Skinners' Yards in _Budgerow_, or the Butchers' Stalls in
_Eastchepe_; 'twas all the same!—let the Stretes be ringing with
Noises, there was a Song of Angels in my Head that made me deaf
thereunto. And soon I was ware that this new Sweetness of Living, which
was Serenity abroad, was Rapture at Home; and so all-satisfying was it,
that I took no Care for the Morrow, nor aspired for Aught I had not, but
only coveted to go on just as I was.

Master _Hewet_, about this Time, was full content with me, and reposed
in me more and more Trust. Whereby I became aware that his Ventures were
becoming more important, his Connexions more extended, his Credit
higher, his Gains greater; and yet, withal, no Abatement of his old Rule
of Simplicity and Plainness; unless with regard to Mistress _Anne_. No
Money was in Sooth spared on her for Teaching or Dressing: her Chambers
for Night and Day had, I believe, every Adornment that Money and Taste
could procure: if her Ornaments were few, it was rather that she did not
affect wearing many, than that there was Anything her Eye coveted that
her Father would not buy for her. But she was one whom Indulgence could
not spoil. Her Money, of which she had ample Allowance from an early
Age, (it being one of Master _Hewet's_ sage Maxims, that Children should
be irresponsible Controulers of some regular Stipend, however small, to
teach them Self-denial, Liberality, and Charity,) her Money, I say, was
freely expended upon others, and employed in gratifying many an innocent
Taste for Flowers, Birds, and such-like. Thus it fell, that I was now
and then made Party to some little Mystery that gave me Pleasure she
wist not she was bestowing, for I am persuaded she was at this Time
living chiefly in a little Dream-land of her own, peopled with none but
good Spirits and fair Prospects. It was, "_Osborne_, dost thou care to
favour me so much as to step down to the _Blanche Chapelton_, and slip
this into the Hand of the poor Basket-maker whose House was burned down
last Night?"—or, _Edward_, I want to buy my Father an Inkstand I have
seen in _Lyme-strete_; 'tis of rare Fancy, and, I think, a real
Antique—a Hare in her Form, made of some glossy, brown Substance; and
between the Hare's Ears is the Mouth of the Inkstand.—The Shop looks
not like one I should care to enter, but 'tis over-against the
Green-gate of _Miguel_ _Pistoy_. Mind not the Price, but see thou tell
not even _Damaris_."

Now, though Master _Hewet_ so liberally supplied her Privy-purse, there
were certain Household Expenses he made her reckon to a Penny; and, if
she were at Fault, she had to make it good. 'Twas pretty, and diverting,
to hear these two sometimes arguing together over their Account-book:
for Mistress _Anne_ was not a ready Reckoner, and he would by no Means
be put off with a Quip. One Day, they were counting out their Money,
when he said, "_Ned_, this young Gentlewoman can never attain to a
competent Knowledge of Figures. I'll give thee a Couple of Angels to
carry her on into Practice, for I shall save Money i' the End."

So when he is gone, I say, "Come, Mistress, the Bribe is very high ...
where shall we begin? I suppose 'twill shame you to be put too far back."

"I hardly know what will be too far back," saith she, rogueing a
little—"My Father sayeth I have done this wrong—" and she gives me a
little Slip of Paper, inscribed with the neatest, prettiest little
Figures.

"Good now!" said I, "the only Mistake herein is,—you have essayed to
subtract the greater Number from the less; which you know can never be."

"Yes, it can be, sometimes," saith she, quickly.

"Never!" say I. "How?"

"Take V from IV and I remains!" quod she. So I laughed, and told her
many a Spendthrift would like that Reckoning.

"Well," said I, "I suppose you desire not to begin with Enumeration."

"Since your Time is so valuable," sayth she, "you need not teach me at
all."

"Nay, Mistress," say I, "count a Million if you will! I can tarry."

"How long will that take me?" quod she.

"Why," say I, "if you count a Hundred a Minute, that is, six Thousand in
an Hour, and count at that Rate for fourteen Hours in the twenty-four,
you may in twelve Days count a Million."

"Hold, hold!" cries she, "you will make me puzzle-headed for a week!"
and so, runs off.

Next Time I saw her alone, I say, "Well, Mistress, are you in the Humour
for Practice?"

"No," quoth she with Decision, "I know Figures already!" And commenced
tinkling on her Virginals. So, there an End ... or might ha' been, were
any Woman two Days o' the same Mind. But, shortly, she cometh to me with
a Tear in her Eye.

"_Ned_," saith she, "what's to be done? I gave all the Money in my Purse
(there wasn't much), to the Girdler's Widow, hard by St. _Anne_ in the
Willows; and now, I can't make up my Father's Accounts, and shall seem
unto him a Defaulter."

"Or be one ... which?" quod I. "What is to do?"

"What _can_ I do?" returns she.

"Marry," say I, "I can lend you the Money."

"Nay," quoth she quickly, "it would not be right in me to take it."

"You have Reason," say I. "It would not."

"Then what remaineth?" she said.

"Honesty afore Charity," I made Answer. "You must ask Master _Hewet_ to
deduct it from your next Quarterage, and henceforth give not away his
Money when you have spent your own."

"He would never have grutched it!" cries she, kindling.

"Forsooth, then, all's said," quod I, and turned to go.

"_Ned!_ stop," cries she, "how _canst_ thou be so ill-natured?" and
began to cry a little. "Why did you not, the other Day, as my Father
bade you, put me on some better Method with my Accounts?"

"Why," said I, "I was about to try, when you started off like a young
Deer from a Gad-fly."

"Well," saith she, "run this up for me, at all Events, and see if there
be any Error in the Sum-total ... I shall be grateful to you either
Way."

So I began,—"_To Groceries, four-and-fourpence_...."

"Four-and-fourpence!" cries she, "Four Pound four!"

"'Tis here plainly set down," say I, "as four-and-fourpence."

"Oh, charming!" cries she, "then all's straight!"

And, catching the Paper from mine Hand, she goes off with it, and I see
no more of her nor her Accounts.

Only, about a Month after, Master _Hewet_ says, "Well, _Ned_, I have not
paid thee thy two Angels?"

"I have not earned them, Sir," I say, "Mistress _Anne_ will none of my
teaching."

"In Faith, then, she has schooled herself to some Purpose," saith he,
smiling, "for she is ready enough now, both at Proportion and Practice.
What a whimsical young Lass it is!"

In Fact she had, as about this Time, that Necessity for Application to
practical Affairs which makes many Women good Reckoners whether they
have a natural Turn for it or no. For Mistress _Fraunces's_ Health
failing her a little, Mistress _Anne_ undertook the Conduct of the
Household, which the other as readily yielded unto her, witting that the
Pratique would do her good. So she went about, demurely, with the Keys,
measuring this and weighing that, and setting down Everything in a
little Book at her Girdle. 'Twas a Lesson, to see her Tendance, in all
duteous Affectuousness, on good Mistress _Fraunces_, who indeed merited
of her the Love of a Daughter, and whom she soon nursed well. Mistress
_Fraunces_, always very softhearted, told me I should find she had not
forgotten my Care of her, in her Will. Howbeit, I was thankful no
Occasion came of opening it.

On my Birthday, Mistress _Anne_ came to me smiling, with her Hands
behind her, and said, "Which Hand will you have?"

I regarded her earnestly, and said, "The right Hand, Mistress."

"Oh, miserable Choice!" cried she, laughing, and throwing me a worn
Glove of her own; "hadst thou said 'Left,' thou shouldest have had this
brave new Pair of scented Gloves!"

I said, "I'm content," and took up the cast Glove with Pleasure.

"Well," sayth she, "you are too indifferent by half about your
Blunder—howbeit, here they are for you; I bought them of Purpose."

So I bowed reverently and took them in my Hand; but, when she was gone,
I put the other in my Bosom.

Another Time, I was arranging a Sunshade for Mistress _Fraunces_, in the
blue-buckram Chamber, when Mistress _Anne_ calleth me into the Balcony
to look at some sunset Clouds, which she likened unto an Oliphant with a
Princess on its Back, and to Armies and Fairy Palaces and such-like, till
I told her if she span any more of her gold Cobwebs about me, I should be
unable to leave the Balcony. Without heeding me, she giveth a great Sigh,
and says, "There's one Thing I should like, that I know my Father would
forbid. Pshaw, _Ned!_ thou needs not look so surprise-stricken! 'tis but
to have my Fortune told, by a real Fortune-teller."

"And so double your Sorrows and deaden your Pleasures, Mistress?" say I.
"Ah, no, 'tis bad tampering with unlawful Quests."

And then I told her a Tale current in the Part of the Country I came
from, of a Lady who would dabble in Things supernal; and how her
Fore-knowledge, actual or phansied, bred in her such Impatience of her
present Lot and Greediness for Things to come, as to lead her to poison
her Husband. And how the Grass would ne'er grow over his Body, but left
the exact Outline of it, Arms, Legs, Feet, Hands, traced out a-top of
his Grave; as may be seen this Day: and how she, a likely and
well-favoured Woman, finding herself viewed askance by all, albeit no
Crime could be proven against her, did call on Heaven to make her as
thin as a Willowwand if she had any hidden Guilt upon her Soul; and how
from that self-same Day she peaked and pined, dwindled, and fell away,
till there was no Substance, so to speak, in her; for a Child might ha'
carried her, she was the Lightness of one of Mistress _Anne's_ satin
Slippers.

At the End of this Tale, Mistress _Anne_ drew a deep Breath, and, saith
she, "_Ned_, thou wert always a marvellous Recounter!—Tell me another
Tale, as moving as the last." So I told her another and another; till
the Stars began to come out; and a Singer in a Boat lying a little Way
off began to sing—

  "_What though thine Eyes be like the Sun
  That lights up all he looks upon_—"

"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.

 [Illustration: JJ
 "Proferred me a Piece of Money]

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:

  "_He that did save,
  The same shall have_."

—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.

 [Illustration: J Jellicoe
 The Masque]

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,

  "_Whoe'er may it gainsay,
  I am the God of Day;
  And it is also I
  Am God of Poetry:
  Howbeit, 'tis my Fate,
  Thus cast from high Estate,
  In these poor Weeds to keep
  The good Admetus' Sheep._"

—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.


 Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
 Edinburgh & London




Works by the Author of "Mary Powell"

_In crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated by_ JOHN JELLICOE _and_
HERBERT RAILTON, _price 6s. each_.


1. The Household of Sir Thos. More.

2. Cherry & Violet: A Tale of the Great Plague.

3. The Maiden and Married Life of Mary Powell, afterwards Mrs. Milton;
with the Sequel thereto, Deborah's Diary.

4. The Old Chelsea Bun-Shop: A Tale of the Last Century.

5. The Colloquies of Edward Osborne, Citizen and Clothworker of London.

_The many other interesting works of this author will be published from
time to time uniformly with the above._




_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

In crown 8vo, with Illustrations by JOHN JELLICOE and HERBERT RAILTON,
price 6s., cloth elegant, gilt top.

_Some Press Notices_


The Household of Sir Thos. More

+Graphic.+—"A picture, not merely of great charm, but of infinite value
in helping the many to understand a famous Englishman and the times in
which he lived."

+Scotsman.+—"This clever work of the historical imagination has gone
through several editions, and is one of the most successful artistic
creations of its kind."

+Sketch.+—"In the front rank of the gift-books of the season is this
beautiful and very cleverly illustrated reprint of a work which has
lasting claims to popularity."

+Magazine of Art.+—"The grace and beauty of the late Miss Manning's
charming work, 'The Household of Sir Thomas More,' has been greatly
enhanced by the new edition now put forth by Mr. John C. Nimmo.... This
remarkable work is not to be read without keen delight."


The Maiden and Married Life of +Mary Powell+ (Afterwards Mistress
Milton) And the Sequel thereto, Deborah's Diary

+Literary World.+—"It is rare in these days of sensational literature,
when the demand for novels of action is supreme, to take up a book which
is so palpitating with real humanity as this, in which the good and evil
are depicted dividing their power over one heart, and not broadly
separated into heroine and villain."

+Athenæum.+—"Many will welcome the pretty new edition of the late Miss
Manning's most popular work."

+Gentlewoman.+—"Too much praise cannot be bestowed upon Mr. John
Jellicoe and Mr. Herbert Railton, whose dainty illustrations have so
well caught the spirit of the book."


Cherry & Violet A Tale of the Great Plague

+Athenæum.+—"The late Miss Manning's delicate and fanciful little
cameos of historical romance possess a flavour of their own.... The
numerous illustrations by Mr. Jellicoe and Mr. Railton are particularly
pretty."

+Sketch.+—"A beautiful book! is the verdict, and one to read and read
again. A similar verdict is to be passed on the drawings with which
Messrs. Herbert Railton and John Jellicoe have enriched this edition."

+Literary World.+—"Nearly thirty illustrations by Mr. John Jellicoe and
Mr. Herbert Railton enrich the volume, and materially help to make it a
dainty and acceptable book for presentation purposes."

+Magazine of Art.+—"With such a work of fiction before her as Defoe's
'Journal of the Plague,' Miss Manning showed not only extraordinary
courage, but even a touch of genius, in approaching a similar theme, and
dealing with it charmingly and successfully. It is her own grace and
charm which have rendered this book worth preserving, fit to place with
others of our foremost women writers."


The Old Chelsea Bun-Shop A Tale of the Last Century

+Athenæum.+—"A handsome reprint of Miss Manning's pleasant tale. The
illustrations add to the attractions of the volume."

+Bookman.+—"The illustrations are capital."

+Notes and Queries.+—"The work constitutes a delightful gift-book."

+Artist.+—"We cannot thank Mr. Nimmo sufficiently for bringing out so
charming an edition. If there is any one who does not know 'The Old
Chelsea Bun-Shop,' he must get it and read it now."

+Art Journal.+—"Mr. Railton's and Mr. Jellicoe's illustrations are as
refined as ever."


LONDON: JOHN C. NIMMO, 14 KING WILLIAM ST., STRAND





End of Project Gutenberg's The Colloquies of Edward Osborne, by Anne Manning