ours, however long
thought of."

"How on earth could you have the folly to let the Duke into the house
when you expected the King?" said the irritated courtier.

"Lord, Chiffinch," answered the lady, "ought not you to ask the porter
rather than me, that sort of question?--I was putting on my cap to
receive his Majesty."

"With the address of a madge-howlet," said Chiffinch, "and in the
meanwhile you gave the cat the cream to keep."

"Indeed, Chiffinch," said the lady, "these jaunts to the country do
render you excessively vulgar! there is a brutality about your very
boots! nay, your muslin ruffles, being somewhat soiled, give to your
knuckles a sort of rural rusticity, as I may call it."

"It were a good deed," muttered Chiffinch, "to make both boots and
knuckles bang the folly and affectation out of thee." Then speaking
aloud, he added, like a man who would fain break off an argument, by
extorting from his adversary a confession that he has reason on his
side, "I am sure, Kate, you must be sensible that our all depends on his
Majesty's pleasure."

"Leave that to me," said she; "I know how to pleasure his Majesty better
than you can teach me. Do you think his Majesty is booby enough to cry
like a schoolboy because his sparrow has flown away? His Majesty has
better taste. I am surprised at you, Chiffinch," she added, drawing
herself up, "who were once thought to know the points of a fine woman,
that you should have made such a roaring about this country wench. Why,
she has not even the country quality of being plump as a barn-door fowl,
but is more like a Dunstable lark, that one must crack bones and all
if you would make a mouthful of it. What signifies whence she came, or
where she goes? There will be those behind that are much more worthy
of his Majesty's condescending attention, even when the Duchess of
Portsmouth takes the frumps."

"You mean your neighbour, Mistress Nelly," said her worthy helpmate;
"but Kate, her date is out. Wit she has, let her keep herself warm with
it in worse company, for the cant of a gang of strollers is not language
for a prince's chamber."[*]

[*] In Evelyn's Memoirs is the following curious passage respecting
Nell Gwyn, who is hinted at in the text:--"I walked with him [King
Charles II.] through Saint James Park to the garden, where I both
saw and heard a very familiar discourse between... [_the King_]
and Mrs. Nelly, as they called her, an intimate comedian, sh