"Will you pass your word," saith he, "to the endeavouring yourself to
keep eye on the Queen and my Lord of March this even betwixt four and
five o' the clock? Will you look from time to time on Sir John de
Molynes, and if you hear either of them speak any thing as though they
should go speak with the King, will you rub your left eye when Sir John
shall look on you? But be you ware you do it not elsewise."
"What, not though it itch?" said I, yet laughing.
"Not though it itch to drive you distraught."
"Well!" said I, "'tis but for a hour. But what means it, I pray you?"
"It means," saith he, "that if the King's good is to be sought, and his
honour to be saved, you be she that must help to do it."
Then all suddenly it came on me, like to a levenand [lightning] flash,
what it was that Sir William and his fellows went about to do. I looked
full into his eyes. And if ever I saw truth, honour, and valour writ in
man's eyes, I read them there.
"I see what you purpose," said I.
"You be marvellous woman an' you do," answered he.
"Judge you. You have chosen that hour to speak with the King, and to
endeavour the opening of his eyes. For Queen Isabel or my Lord of March
to enter should spoil your game. Sir John de Molynes is he that shall
give you notice if such be like to befall, and I am to signify the same
to him."
Right at that minute I had to take a volt [jump], and turn to the right
round Sir John Neville. When I returned back to my partner, saith he,
so that Sir John could hear--
"Dame Cicely, you vault marvellous well!"
"That was not so ill as might have been, I reckon," quoth I.
"Truly, nay," he made answer: "it was right well done."