University of Virginia Library

Scene.—Servants' Hall.
Housekeeper, Philip, and others, laughing.
HOUSEKEEPER.
Our Lady's guest, since her short ride, seems ruffled,
And somewhat in disorder. Philip, Philip,
I do suspect some roguery. Your mad tricks
Will some day cost you a good place, I warrant.

PHILIP.
Good Mistress Jane, our serious housekeeper,
And sage Duenna to the maids and scullions,
We must have leave to laugh; our brains are younger,
And undisturb'd with care of keys and pantries.
We are wild things.

BUTLER.
Good Philip, tell us all.

ALL.
Ay, as you live, tell, tell—

PHILIP.
Mad fellows, you shall have it.
The Widow's bell rang lustily and loud—

BUTLER.
I think that no one can mistake her ringing.

WAITING-MAID.
Our Lady's ring is soft sweet music to it,
More of entreaty hath it than command.

PHILIP.
I lose my story, if you interrupt me thus.
The bell, I say, rang fiercely; and a voice
More shrill than bell, call'd out for “Coachman Philip.”
I straight obey'd, as 'tis my name and office.
“Drive me,” quoth she, “to the next market town,
Where I have hope of letters.” I made haste.
Put to the horses, saw her fairly coach'd,
And drove her—

WAITING-MAID.
—By the straight high road to Andover,
I guess—

PHILIP.
Pray, warrant things within your knowledge,
Good Mistress Abigail; look to your dressings,
And leave the skill in horses to the coachman.

BUTLER.
He'll have his humour; best not interrupt him.

PHILIP.
'Tis market-day, thought I; and the poor beasts,
Meeting such droves of cattle and of people,
May take a fright; so down the lane I trundled,
Where Goodman Dobson's crazy mare was founder'd,
And where the flints were biggest, and ruts widest,
By ups and downs, and such bone-cracking motions,
We flounder'd on a furlong, till my madam,
In policy, to save the few joints left her,
Betook her to her feet, and there we parted.

ALL.
Ha! ha! ha!

BUTLER.
Hang her, 'tis pity such as she should ride.

WAITING-MAID.
I think she is a witch; I have tired myself out
With sticking pins in her pillow; still she 'scapes them—

BUTLER.
And I with helping her to mum for claret,
But never yet could cheat her dainty palate.

HOUSEKEEPER.
Well, well, she is the guest of our good Mistress,
And so should be respected. Though, I think,
Our Master cares not for her company,
He would ill brook we should express so much,
By rude discourtesies, and short attendance,
Being but servants. (A bell rings furiously.)
'Tis her bell speaks now;
Good, good, bestir yourselves: who knows who's wanted?

BUTLER.
But 'twas a merry trick of Philip coachman.

[Exeunt.