Even so well,
That if this Widow were my guest, not yours,
She should have coach enough, and scope to ride.
My merry groom should in a trice convey her
To Sarum Plain, and set her down at Stonehenge,
To pick her path through those antiques at leisure;
She should take sample of our Wiltshire flints.
O, be not lightly jealous! nor surmise,
That to a wanton bold-faced thing like this
Your modest shrinking Katherine could impart
Secrets of any worth, especially
Secrets that touch'd your peace. If there be aught,
My life upon't,'tis but some girlish story
Of a First Love; which even the boldest wife
Might modestly deny to a husband's ear,
Much more your timid and too sensitive Katherine.

_Selby_. I think it is no more; and will dismiss
My further fears, if ever I have had such.

_Lucy_. Shall we go walk? I'd see your gardens, brother;
And how the new trees thrive, I recommended.
Your Katherine is engaged now--

_Selby_. I'll attend you.

[_Exeunt_.

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 safely 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