I was to travel, as had been ordered for our mutual convenience and
protection, with Mistress Ward, a gentlewoman who resided some months
in our vicinity, and had heard mass in our chapel on such rare
occasions as of late had occurred, when a priest was at our house, and
we had commodity to give notice thereof to such as were Catholic in
the adjacent villages. We had with us on the journey two serving-men
and a waiting-woman, who had been my mother's chambermaid; and so
accompanied, we set out on our way, singing as we went, for greater
safety, the litanies of our Lady; to whom we did commend ourselves, as
my father had willed us to do, with many fervent prayers. The
gentlewoman to whose charge I was committed was a lady of singular
zeal and discretion, as well as great virtue; albeit, where religion
was not concerned, of an exceeding timid disposition; which, to my no
small diversion then, and great shame since, I took particular notice
of on this journey. Much talk had been ministered in the county
touching the number of rogues and vagabonds which infested the public
roads, of which sundry had been taken up and whipped during the last
months, in Lichfield, Stafford, and other places. I did perceive that
good Mistress Ward glanced uneasily as we rode along at every
foot-passenger or horseman that came in sight. Albeit my heart was
heavy, and may be also that when the affections are inclined to tears
they be likewise prone to laughter, I scarce could restrain from
smiling at these her fears and the manner of her showing them.
"Mistress Constance," she said at last, as we came to the foot of a
steep {350} ascent, "methinks you have a great heart concerning the
dangers which may befall us on the road, and that the sight of a
robber would move you not one whit more than that of an honest pedler
or hawker, such as I take those men to be who are mounting the hill in
advance of us. Doth it not seem to you that the box which they do
carry betokens them to be such worthy persons as I wish them to
prove?"
"Now surely," I answered, "good Mistress Ward, 'tis my opinion that
they be not such honest knaves as you do suppose. I perceive somewhat
I mislike in the shape of that box. What an if it be framed to entice
travellers to their ruin by such displays and shows of rare ribbons
and gewgaws as may prove the means of detaining them on the road, and
a-robbing of them in the end?"
Mistress Ward laughed, and commended my jesting, but was yet ill at
ease; and, as a mischievous and thoughtless creature, I did somewhat
excite and maintain her fears, in order to set her on asking questions
of our attendants touching the perils of the road, which led them to
relate such fearful stories of what they had seen of this sort as
served to increase her apprehensions, and greatly to divert me, who
had not the like fears; but rather entertained myself with hers, in a
manner such as I have been since ashamed to think of, who should have
kissed the ground on which she had trodden.
The fairness of the sky, the beauty of the fields and hedges, the
motion of the horse, stirred up my spirits; albeit my heart was at
moments so brimful of sorrow that I hated my tongue for its
wantonness, my eyes for their curious gazing, and my fancy for its
eager thoughts anent London and the new scenes I should behold there.
What mostly dwelt in them was the hope to see my Lady Surrey, of whom
I had had of late but brief and scanty tidings. The last letter I had
from her was writ at the time when the Duke of Norfolk was for the
second time thrown in the Tower, which she said was the greatest
sorrow that had befallen her since the death of my Lady Mounteagle,
which had happened at his grace's house a few months back, with all
the assistance she desired touching her religion. She had been urged,
my Lady Surrey said, by the duke some time before to do something
contrary to her faith; but though she much esteemed and respected him,
her answer was so round and resolute that he never mentioned the like
to her any more. Since then I had no more tidings of her, who was
dearer to me than our brief acquaintance and the slender tie of such
correspondence as had taken place between us might in most cases
warrant; but whether owing to some congeniality of mind, or to a
presentiment of future friendship, 'tis most certain my heart was
bound to her in an extraordinary manner; so that she was the continual
theme of my thoughts and mirror of my fancy.
The first night of our journey we lay at a small inn, which was held
by persons Mistress Ward was acquainted with, and by whom we were
entertained in a decent chamber, looking on unto a little garden, and
with as much comfort as the fashion of the place might afford, and
greater cleanliness than is often to be found in larger hostelries.
After supper, being somewhat weary with travel, but not yet inclined
for bed, and the evening fine, we sat out of doors in a bower of
eglantine near to some bee-hives, of which our hostess had a great
store; and methinks she took example from them, for we could see her
through the window as busy in the kitchen amongst her maids as the
queen-bee amidst her subjects. Mistress Ward took occasion to observe,
as we watched one of these little commonwealths of nature, that she
admired how they do live, laboring and swarming, and gathering honey
together so neat and finely, that they abhor nothing so much as
uncleanliness, drinking pure and clear water, even the dew-drops on
the leaves and flowers, {351} and delighting in sweet music, which if
they hear but once out of tune they fly out of sight.
"They live," she said, "under a law, and use great reverence to their
elders. Every one hath his office; some trimming the honey, another
framing hives, another the combs. When they go forth to work, they
mark the wind and the clouds, and whatsoever doth threaten their ruin;
and having gathered, out of every flower, honey, they return loaded in
their mouths and on their wings, whom they that tarried at home
receive readily, easing their backs of their great burthens with as
great care as can be thought of."
"Methinks," I answered, "that if it be as you say, Mistress Ward, the
bees be wiser than men."
At the which she smiled; but withal, sighing, made reply:
"One might have wished of late years rather to be a bee than such as
we see men sometimes to be. But, Mistress Constance, if they are
indeed so wise and so happy, 'tis that they are fixed in a condition
in which they must needs do the will of him who created them; and the
like wisdom and happiness in a far higher state we may ourselves
enjoy, if we do but choose of our free will to live by the same rule."
Then, after some further discourse on the habits of these little
citizens, I inquired of Mistress Ward if she were acquainted with mine
aunt, Mistress Congleton; at the which question she seemed surprised,
and said,
"Methought, my dear, you had known my condition in your aunt's family,
having been governess for many years to her three daughters, and only
by reason of my sister's sickness having stayed away from them for
some time."
At the which intelligence I greatly rejoiced; for the few hours we had
rode together, and our discourse that evening, had wrought in me a
liking for this lady as great as could arise in so short a period. But
I minded me then of my jests at her fears anent robbers, and also of
having been less dutiful in my manners than I should have been toward
one who was like to be set over me; and I likewise bethought me this
might be the cause that she had spoken of the bees having a reverence
for their elders, and doubted if I should crave her pardon for my want
of it. But, like many good thoughts which we give not entertainment to
by reason that they be irksome, I changed that intent for one which
had in it more of pleasantness, though less of virtue. Kissing her, I
said it was the best news I had heard for a long time that I should
live in the same house with her, and, as I hoped, under her care and
good government. And she answered, that she was well pleased with it
too, and would be a good friend to me as long as she lived. Then I
asked her touching my cousins, and of their sundry looks and
qualities. She answered, that the eldest, Kate, was very fair, and
said nothing further concerning her. Polly, she told me, was
marvellous witty and very pleasant, and could give a quick answer,
full of entertaining conceits.
"And is she, then, not fair?" I asked.
"Neither fair nor foul," was her reply; "but well favored enough, and
has an excellent head."
"Then," I cried, letting my words exceed good behavior, "I shall like
her better than the pretty fool her sister." For the which speech I
received the first, but not the last, chiding I ever had from Mistress
Ward for foolish talking and pert behavior, which was what I very well
deserved. When she had done speaking, I put my arm round her neck--for
it put me in mind of my mother to be so gravely yet so sweetly
corrected--and said, "Forgive me, dear Mistress Ward, for my saucy
words, and tell me somewhat I beseech you touching my youngest cousin,
who must be nearest to mine own age."
"She is no pearl to hang at one's ear," quoth she, "yet so gifted with
a well-disposed mind that in her grace {352} seems almost to supersede
nature. Muriel is deformed in body, and slow in speech; but in
behavior so honest, in prayer so devout, so noble in all her dealings,
that I never heard her speak anything that either concerned not good
instruction or godly mirth."
"And doth she not care to be ugly?" I asked.
"So little doth she value beauty," quoth Mistress Ward, "save in the
admiring of it in others, that I have known her to look into a glass
and smiling cry out, 'This face were fair if it were turned and every
feature the opposite to what it is;' and so jest pleasantly at her own
deformities, and would have others do so too. Oh, she is a rare
treasure of goodness and piety, and a true comfort to her friends!"
With suchlike pleasant discourse we whiled away the time until going
to rest; and next day were on horseback betimes on our way to
Coventry, where we were to lie that night at the house of Mr. Page, a
Catholic, albeit not openly, by reason of the times. This gentleman is
for his hospitality so much haunted, that no news stirs but comes to
his ears, and no gentlefolks pass his door but have a cheerful welcome
to his house; and 'tis said no music is so sweet to his ears as
deserved thanks. He vouchsafed much favor to us, and by his merry
speeches procured us much entertainment, provoking me to laughter
thereby more than I desired. He took us to see St. Mary's Hall, which
is a building which has not its equal for magnificence in any town I
have seen, no, not even in London. As we walked through the streets he
showed us a window in which was an inscription, set up in the reign of
King Richard the Second, which did run thus:
"I, Luriche, for the love of thee
Do make Coventry toll free."
And further on, the figure of Peeping Tom of Coventry, that false
knave I was so angry with when my father (ah, me! how sharp and sudden
was the pain which went through my heart as I called to mind the hours
I was wont to sit on his knee hearkening to the like tales) told me
the story of the Lady Godiva, who won mercy for her townsfolk by a
ride which none had dared to take but one so holy as herself. And, as
I said before, being then in a humor as prone to tears at one moment
as laughter at another, I fell to weeping for the noble lady who had
been in so sore a strait that she must needs have chosen between
complying with her savage lord's conditions or the misery of her poor
clients. When Mr. Page noticed my tears, which flowed partly for
myself and partly for one who had been long dead, but yet lived in the
hearts of these citizens, he sought to cheer me by the recital of the
fair and rare pageant which doth take place every year in Coventry,
and is of the most admirable beauty, and such as is not witnessed in
any other city in the world. He said I should not weep if I were to
see it, which he very much desired I should; and he hoped he might be
then alive, and ride by my side in the procession as my esquire; at
the which I smiled, for the good gentleman had a face and figure such
as would not grace a pageant, and methought I might be ashamed some
years hence to have him for my knight; and I said, "Good Mr. Page, be
the shutters closed on those days as when the Lady Godiva rode?" at
the which he laughed, and answered,
"No; and that for one Tom who then peeped, there were a thousand eyes
to gaze on the show as it passed."
"Then if it please you, sir, when the time comes," I said, "I would
like to look on and not to ride;" and he replied, it should be as I
pleased; and with such merry discourse we spent the time till supper
was ready. And afterward that good gentleman slackened not his efforts
in entertaining us; but related so many laughable stories, and took so
great notice of me, that I was moved to answer him sometimes in a
manner too forward for my years. He told us of the queen's visit to
that {353} city, and that the mayor, who had heard her grace's majesty
considered poets, and herself wrote verses, thought to commend himself
to her favor by such rare rhymes as these, wherewith he did greet her
at her entrance into the town:
"We, the men of Coventry,
Be pleased to see your majesty,
Good Lord! how fair you be!"
at the which her highness made but an instant's pause, and then
straightway replied,
"It pleaseth well her majesty
To see the men of Coventry.
Good Lord! what fools you be!"
"But," quoth Mr. Page, "the good man was so well pleased that the
Queen had answered his compliment, that 'tis said he has had her
majesty's speech framed, and hung up in his parlor."
"Pity 'tis not in the town-hall," I cried; and he laughing commended
me for sharpness; but Mistress Ward said:
"A sharp tongue in a woman's head was always a stinging weapon; but in
a queen's she prayed God it might never prove a murtherous one." Which
words somewhat checked our merriment, for that they savored of rebuke
to me for forward speech, and I ween awoke in Mr. Page thoughts of a
graver sort.
When we rode through the town next day, he went with us for the space
of some miles, and then bade us farewell with singular courtesy, and
professions of good will and proffered service if we should do him the
good at any time to remember his poor house; which we told him he had
given us sufficient reason not to forget. Toward evening, when the sun
was setting, we did see the towers of Warwick Castle; and I would fain
have discerned the one which doth bear the name of the great earl who
in a poor pilgrim's garb slew the giant Colbrand, and the cave 'neath
Guy's Cliff where he spent his last years in prayer. But the light was
declining as we rode into Leamington, where we lay that night, and
darkness hid from us that fair country, which methought was a meet
abode for such as would lead a hermit's life.
The next day we had the longest ride and the hottest sun we had yet
met with; and at noon we halted to rest in a thicket on the roadside,
which we made our pavilion, and from which our eyes did feast
themselves on a delightful prospect. There were heights on one side
garnished with stately oaks, and a meadow betwixt the road and the
hill enamelled with all sorts of pleasing flowers, and stored with
sheep, which were feeding in sober security. Mistress Ward, who was
greatly tired with the journey, fell asleep with her head on her hand,
and I pulled from my pocket a volume with which Mr. Page had gifted me
at parting, and which contained sundry tales anent Amadis de Gaul,
Huon de Bordeaux, Palmerin of England, and suchlike famous knights,
which he said, as I knew how to read, for which he greatly commended
my parents' care, I should entertain myself with on the road. So,
one-half sitting, one-half lying on the grass, I reclined in an easy
posture, with my head resting against the trunk of a tree, pleasing my
fancy with the writers' conceits; but ever and anon lifting my eyes to
the blue sky above my head, seen through the green branches, or fixed
them on the quaint patterns the quivering light drew on the grass, or
else on the valley refreshed with a silver river, and the fair hills
beyond it. And as I read of knights and ladies, and the many perils
which befel them, and passages of love betwixt them, which was new to
me, and what I had not met with in any of the books I had yet read, I
fell into a fit of musing, wondering if in London the folks I should
see would discourse in the same fashion, and the gentlemen have so
much bravery and the ladies so great beauty as those my book treated
of. And as I noticed it was chiefly on the high-roads they did come
into such dangerous adventures, {354} I gazed as far as I could
discern on the one I had in view before me with a foolish kind of
desire for some robbers to come and assail us, and then a great
nobleman or gallant esquire to ride up and fall on them, and to
deliver us from a great peril, and may be to be wounded in the
encounter, and I to bind up those wounds as from my mother's teaching
I knew how to do, and then give thanks to the noble gentleman in such
courteous and well-picked words as I could think of. But for all my
gazing I could naught perceive save a wain slowly ascending the hill
loaden with corn, midst clouds of dust, and some poorer sort of
people, who had been gleaning, and were carrying sheaves on their
heads. After an hour Mistress Ward awoke from her nap; and methinks I
had been dozing also, for when she called to me, and said it was time
to eat somewhat, and then get to horse, I cried out, "Good sir, I wait
your pleasure;" and rubbed my eyes to see her standing before me in
her riding-habit, and not the gentleman whose wounds I had been
tending.
That night we slept at Northampton, at Mistress Engerfield's house.
She was a cousin of Mr. Congleton's, and a lady whose sweet affability
and gravity would have extorted reverence from those that least loved
her. She was then very aged, and had been a nun in King Henry's reign;
and, since her convent had been despoiled, and the religious driven
out of it, having a large fortune of her own, which she inherited
about that time, she made her house a secret monastery, wherein God
was served in a religious manner by such persons as the circumstances
of the time, and not their own desires, had forced back into the
world, and who as yet had found no commodity for passing beyond seas
into countries where that manner of life is allowed. They dressed in
sober black, and kept stated hours of prayer, and went not abroad
unless necessity compelled them thereunto. When we went into the
dining-room, which I noticed Mistress Engerfield called the refectory,
grace was said in Latin; and whilst we did eat one lady read out loud
out of a book, which methinks was the life of a saint; but the fatigue
of the journey, and the darkness of the room, which was wainscotted
with oak-wood, so overpowered my senses with drowsiness, that before
the meal was ended I had fallen asleep, which was discovered, to my
great confusion, when the company rose from table. But that good lady,
in whose face was so great a kindliness that I never saw one to be
compared with it in that respect before or since, took me by the hand
and said, "Young eyes wax heavy for lack of rest, and travellers
should have repose. Come to thy chamber, sweet one, and, after
commending thyself by a brief prayer to him who sleepeth not nor
slumbereth, and to her who is the Mother of the motherless, get thee
to bed and take thy fill of the sleep thou hast so great need of, and
good angels will watch near thee."
Oh, how I did weep then, partly from fatigue, and partly from the dear
comfort her words did yield me, and, kneeling, asked her blessing, as
I had been wont to do of my dear parents. And she, whose countenance
was full of majesty, and withal of most attractive gentleness, which
made me deem her to be more than an ordinary woman, and a great
servant of God, as indeed she was, raised me from the ground, and
herself assisted to get me to bed, having first said my prayers by her
side, whose inflamed devotion, visible in her face, awakened in me a
greater fervor than I had hitherto experienced when performing this
duty. After I had slept heavily for the space of two or three hours I
awoke, as is the wont of those who be over-fatigued, and could not get
to sleep again, so that I heard the clock of a church strike twelve;
and as the last stroke fell on my ear, it was followed by a sound of
chanting, as if close unto my chamber, which resembled what on rare
occasions I had heard performed {355} by two or three persons in our
chapel; but here, with so full a concord of voices, and so great
melody and sweetness, that methought, being at that time of night and
every one abed, it must be the angels that were singing. But the next
day, questioning Mrs. Ward thereupon as of a strange thing which had
happened to me, she said, the ladies in that house rose always at
midnight, as they had been used to do in their several convents, to
sing God's praises and give him thanks, which was what they did vow to
do when they became religious. Before we departed, Mistress Engerfield
took me into her own room, which was small and plainly furnished, with
no other furniture in it but a bed, table, and kneeling-stool, and
against the wall a large crucifix, and she bestowed upon me a small
book in French, titled "The Spiritual Combat," which she said was a
treasury of pious riches, which she counselled me by frequent study to
make my own; and with many prayers and blessings she then bade us
God-speed, and took leave of us. Our last day's lodging on the road
was at Bedford; and there being no Catholics of note in that town wont
to entertain travellers, we halted at a quiet hostelry, which was kept
by very decent people, who showed us much civility; and the landlady,
after we had supped, the evening being rainy (for else she said we
might have walked through her means into the fair grounds of the Abbey
of Woburn, which she thanked God was not now a hive for drones, as it
had once been, but the seat of a worthy nobleman; which did more
credit to the town, and drew customers to the inn), brought us for our
entertainment a huge book, which she said had as much godliness in
each of its pages as might serve to convert as many Papists--God save
the mark!--as there were leaves in the volume. My cheeks glowed like
fire when she thus spoke, and I looked at Mistress Ward, wondering
what she would say. But she only bowed her head, and made pretence to
open the book, which, when the good woman was gone,
"Mistress Constance," quoth she, "this is a book writ by Mr. Fox, the
Duke of Norfolk's old schoolmaster, touching those he doth call
martyrs, who suffered for treason and for heresy in the days of Queen
Mary,--God rest her soul!--and if it ever did convert a Papist, I do not
say on his deathbed, but at any time of his life, except it was
greatly for his own interest, I be ready. . ."
"To be a martyr yourself, Mistress Ward," I cried, with my ever too
great proneness to let my tongue loose from restraint. The color rose
in her cheek, which was usually pale, and she said:
"Child, I was about to say, that in the case I have named, I be ready
to forego the hope of that which I thank God I be wise enough to
desire, though unworthy to obtain; but for which I do pray each day
that I live."
"Then would you not be afraid to die on a scaffold," I asked, "or to
be hanged, Mistress Ward?"
"Not in a good cause," she said.
But before the words were out of her mouth our landlady knocked at the
door, and said a gentleman was in the house with his two sons, who
asked to pay their compliments to Mistress Ward and the young lady
under her care. The name of this gentleman was Rookwood, of Rookwood
Hall in Suffolk, and Mistress Ward desired the landlady presently to
bring them in, for she had often met them at my aunt's house, as she
afterward told me, and had great contentment we should have such good
company under the same roof with us; whom when they came in she very
pleasantly received, and informed Mr. Rookwood of my name and
relationship to Mistress Congleton; which when he heard, he asked if I
was Mr. Henry Sherwood's daughter; which being certified of, he
saluted me, and said my father was at one time, when both were at
college, the closest friend that ever he had, and his esteem for him
was so great that he would be better {356} pleased with the news that
he should see him but once again, than if any one was to give him a
thousand pounds. I told him my father often spake of him with singular
affection, and that the letter I should write to him from London would
be more welcome than anything else could make it, by the mention of
the honor I had had of his notice. Mistress Ward then asked him what
was the news in London, from whence he had come that morning. He
answered that the news was not so good as he would wish it to be; for
that the queen's marriage with monsieur was broke off, and the King of
France greatly incensed at the favor M. de Montgomeri had experienced
at her hands; and that when he had demanded he should be given up, she
had answered that she did not see why she should be the King of
France's hangman; which was what his father had replied to her sister,
when she had made the like request anent some of her traitors who had
fled to France.
"Her majesty," he said, "was greatly incensed against the Bishop of
Ross, and had determined to put him to death; but that she was
dissuaded from it by her council; and that he prayed God Catholics
should not fare worse now that Ridolfi's plot had been discovered to
declare her highness illegitimate, and place the Queen of Scots on the
throne, which had moved her to greater anger than even the rising in
the north.
"And touching the Duke of Norfolk," Mistress Ward did ask, "what is
like to befal him?"
Mr. Rookwood said, "His grace had been removed from the Tower to his
own house on account of the plague; but it is reported the queen is
more urgent against him than ever, and will have his head in the end."
"If her majesty will not marry monsieur," Mistress Ward said, "it will
fare worse with recusants."
Upon which one of the young gentlemen cried out, "'Tis not her majesty
will not have him; but monsieur will not have her. My Lord of Oxford,
who is to marry my Lord Burleigh's daughter, said yesterday at the
tennis court, that that matter of monsieur is grieviously taken on her
grace's part; but that my lord is of opinion that where amity is so
needful, her majesty should stomach it; and so she doth pretend to
break it off herself by reason of her religious scruples."
At the which both brothers did laugh, but Mr. Rookwood bade them have
a care how they did suffer their tongues to wag anent her grace and
such matters as her grace's marriage; which although in the present
company might be without danger, was an ill habit, which in these
times was like to bring divers persons into troubles.
"Hang it!" cried the eldest of his sons, who was of a well-pleasing
favor and exceeding goodly figure; "recusants be always in trouble,
whatsoever they do; both taxed for silence and checked for speech, as
the play hath it. For good Mr. Weston was racked for silence last week
till he fainted, for that he would not reveal what he had heard in
confession from one concerned in Ridolfi's plot; and as to my Lord
Morley, he hath been examined before the council, touching his having
said he would go abroad poorly and would return in glory, which he did
speak concerning his health; but they would have it meant treason."
"Methinks, Master Basil," said his father, "thou art not like to be
taxed for silence; unless indeed on the rack, which the freedom of thy
speech may yet bring thee to, an thou hast not more care of thy words.
See now, thy brother keeps his lips closed in modest silence."
"Ay, as if butter would not melt in his mouth," cried Basil, laughing.
And I then noticed the countenance of the younger brother, who was
fairer and shorter by a head than Basil, and had the most beautiful
eyes imaginable, and a high forehead betokening thoughtfulness. Mr.
Rookwood drew his chair further from the table, and conversed in a low
voice with Mrs. Ward, {357} touching matters which I ween were of too
great import to be lightly treated of. I heard the name of Mr. Felton
mentioned in their discourse, and somewhat about the Pope's Bull, in
the affixing of which at the Bishop of London's gate he had lent a
hand; but my ears were not free to listen to them, for the young
gentlemen began to entertain me with divers accounts of the shows in
London; which, as they were some years older than myself, who was then
no better than a child, though tall of mine age, I took as a great
favor, and answered them in the best way I could. Basil spoke mostly
of the sights he had seen, and a fight between a lion and three dogs,
in which the dogs were victorious; and Hubert of books, which he said,
for his part, he had always a care to keep handsome and well bound.
"Ay," quoth his brother, "gilding them and stringing them like the
prayer-books of girls and gallants, which are carried to church but
for their outsides. I do hate a book with clasps, 'tis a trouble to
open them."
"A trouble thou dost seldom take," quoth Hubert. "Thou art ready
enough to unclasp the book of thy inward soul to whosoever will read
in it, and thy purse to whosoever begs or borrows of thee; but with
such clasps as shut in the various stores of thought which have issued
forth from men's minds thou dost not often meddle."
"Beshrew me if I do! The best prayer-book I take to be a pair of
beads; and the most entertaining reading, the 'Rules for the Hunting
of Deer;' which, by what I have heard from Sir Roger Ashlon, my Lord
Stafford hath grievously transgressed by assaulting Lord Lyttleton's
keepers in Teddesley Haye."
"What have you here?" Hubert asked, glancing at Mr. Fox's _Book of
Martyrs_, and another which the landlady had left on the table; _A
profitable New Year's Gift to all England._
"They are not mine," I answered, "nor such as I do care to read; but
this," I said, holding out Mr. Page's gift, which I had in my pocket,
"is a rare fund of entertainment and very full of pleasant tales."
"But," quoth he, "you should read the _Morte d'Arthur_ and the _Seven
Champions of Christendom."_
Which I said I should be glad to do when I had the good chance to meet
with them. He said, "My cousin Polly had a store of such pleasant
volumes, and would, no doubt, lend them to me. She has such a sharp
wit," he added, "that she is ever exercising it on herself or on
others; on herself by the bettering of her mind through reading; and
on others by such applications, of what she thus acquires as leaves
them no chance in discoursing with her but to yield to her superior
knowledge."
"Methinks," I said, "if that be her aim in reading, may be she will
not lend to others the means of sharpening their wits to encounter
hers."
At the which both of them laughed, and Basil said he hoped I might
prove a match for Mistress Polly, who carried herself too high, and
despised such as were slower of speech and less witty than herself.
"For my part," he cried, "I am of opinion that too much reading doth
lead to too much thinking, and too much thinking doth consume the
spirits; and often it falls out that while one thinks too much of his
doing, he leaves to do the effect of his thinking."
At the which Hubert smiled, and I bethought myself that if Basil was
no book-worm neither was he a fool. With such like discourse the
evening sped away, and Mr. Rookwood and his sons took their leave with
many civilities and pleasant speeches, such as gentlemen are wont to
address to ladies, and hopes expressed to meet again in London, and
good wishes for the safe ending of our journey thither.
Ah, me! 'tis passing strange to sit here and write in this little
chamber, after so many years, of that first meeting with those
brothers, Basil and Hubert; to call to mind how they did look and
speak, and of the pretty kind {358} of natural affection there was
betwixt them in their manner to each other. Ah, me! the old trick of
sighing is coming over me again, which I had well-nigh corrected
myself of, who have more reason to give thanks than to complain. Good
Lord, what fools you be! sighing heart and watering eyes! As great
fools, I ween, as the Mayor of Coventry, whose foolish rhymes do keep
running in my head.
The day following we came to London, which being, as it were, the
beginning of a new life to me, I will defer to speak of until I find
myself, after a night's rest and special prayers unto that end, less
heavy of heart than at present.