The Colloquies of Edward Osborne, Citizen and Clothworker of London

by Anne Manning

At length, quod he, "Master Hewet lives quietly ... they that save most, shew least; ha, Master Osborne?" I coolly replied, "My Lord, it may be so."—"A rich Man," pursued he, "like a Prophet, may have least Honour in his own Street and his own House. Why now, there may be many cross daily his Threshold and have Speech of him on ordinary Affairs, that wot not he, for as homely as he is, hath six thousand Pounds by the Year ... am I within the Mark, Master Osborne?" "Marry, my Lord," quod I, "your honourable Lordship seemeth to know much more of the Secrets of his strong Box than I do. I never yet asked of him what it held, nor never was told." "That may be true," quod he, "and yet you may guess."—"But I never did guess," interrupted I, "I know him for rich, and liberal, and of high Credit at Home and Abroad; and that is all." "You would surprise me," quod my Lord, "unless it were clear to me that you resent my Freedom with you in this Matter." "On my Faith, my Lord," quod I, "I resent Nothing. I may know the Amount and Success of this or that Venture of Master Hewet's, without having any Key to the Sum total of his Wealth; but whatever came to my Knowledge, whether by Chance, by Confidence, or in the Way of Business, it is certain I should keep locked in my Heart as faithfully as his Trade Secrets what Time I was his 'Prentice." "Nay, you are a good and honest Heart," quod my Lord. "Be as honourable to me as to him, I beseech you, and say Nothing that shall minish me in his good Liking." "Why should I, my good Lord?" quod I, "our Paths lie wide enough asunder." "Aye, but you have his Ear," quod he, "in the Way of daily Business, and he spake of you as his adopted Son. If you are as a Son unto him, his Daughter is unto you as a Sister, and you may do a good Turn for me, peradventure, with fair Mistress Anne." "My Lord," quod I, "we are on quite a different Footing from what you suppose, and your Suit would gain no better Favour from passing through my Hands." "Will you try that?" quod he, smiling. "Marry, my Lord, why should you put it upon me?" quod I, "you are far better able to make Suit for yourself ... Earls' Sons do not commonly seek in vain for fair Ladies' Favour."... "You will, at least, not be my Foe?" quod he. "No, my Lord," quod I, "unless you give me greater Reason to be than you have done yet: howbeit, I marvel your Lordship should value my good or ill Favour at a Pin's Purchase."

"Ah," quod he, after a Pause, during which we paced half the Length of the Aisle, "there be some Things that neither Rank nor Money can buy; and I saw that Mistress Anne had you in her Regard."—"Did you, my Lord?" cried I, "wherein did she shew it?" But he was thinking of his own Matters rather than of mine, therefore only said, "I could discern it and am assured of it; therefore be my good Friend, good Osborne, and speak a good Word for me when you can."

Then taking a Ring off his Finger, he saith, "I beseech you, accept this Ruby for the Esteem I bear unto you ... a mere Trifle, yet a good Stone, I assure you—nay, Sir, be not so unkindly—'beseech you, for my Love."

I put it aside, saying, "In a Word, my Lord, I cannot. Faith, it were well your honourable Lordship would turn into another Aisle, for there is a Tailor behind yonder Pillar taking down the Particulars of your Apparel in his Notebook, which 'twere Pity o' my Life, for the excellent Devising thereof, should be copied and sold in a City Frippery."

He moved off with a Start and a Smile, replacing his Ring. At the same Time we were accosted by one of those habitual Frequenters of Paul's Walk, that will sue your Charity first, and pick your Pocket afterwards. My Lord affected first not to hear him, but seeing me feel for a Trifle to be quit of him, he sought his own Purse, which, not finding, he turned about in some Anxiety to his Men, who were some Way behind, and accosted them as soon as they came up, with "Here, Cresswell, Jenkyn! I have lost my Purse,—hie back, one of you, to Master Hewet's, where, methinks, I dropped it." "My Lord, I will return and aid in the Search," quod I, glad of an Excuse for ending so troublesome a Dialogue; albeit I thought it much more likely he had lost his Purse in the Place we were in than dropped it at our House.

However, there I was wrong, for Damaris met us on our Return, saying, "Oh yes, here is my Lord's Purse," and gave it unto his Man. When she had watched him depart, "'Twas hardly worth returning for," quod she disdainfully, "there were but three Nobles; and albeit the Purse had a Hole in't, 'twas not big enow for a Penny-piece to drop through. But peradventure he was ashamed we should see it, so was anxious to have it back." "There's no Shame in Poverty, Damaris," quod I, "if we are not proud with it."—"Nay, I know not," quod she, doubtfully; "Folks always are ashamed of it, that's certain."

In the withdrawing Chamber sate Mistress Anne at her Needle, beside Master Hewet in his great Chair. "Now then," thought I, "every good Angel be my speed! I believe I can tell as well as most whether a Man be only setting himself to sleep, or verily and indeed sleeping; and I see that at this present, Master Hewet is truly and soundly asleep, but yet his being at his Daughter's Side gives me Freedom of Access unto her I should not in other Wise enjoy, and will now neither abuse nor neglect."

So, without a second Thought, and armed with my Possession of the Father's private Grace, I sate down over-against her. She said, "So soon returned?" and began to question me of my Travel. Then my Tongue unloosed, and I told her how many fair Things I had seen, how many notable People and Places, yet how none of these had been able to damp for one Moment my Desire to be at Home, within Sight and Sound of her. As I went on, waxing more and more fluent, more and more passionate, so did her Colour wax deeper and deeper, until, with a Look of extreme Displeasure and Aversion, she said, "Edward, thou art beside thyself ... pray let me never more hear such foolish Talk as this—I had better Thoughts of thee." And arose to go. I arose too, and stayed her, and prayed her to forgive me if I had spoken Aught amiss,—if she did not, I could have no Peace. She said, "I cannot just now, I am wounded so much;" and went away, with flushed Cheeks and Eyes full of Tears. Master Hewet was roused by her Departure, and, rubbing his Eyes, smiled and said, "I thought Anne had been here." "She is but just gone," I made Answer; and the rest of the Evening was sad enough.

Next Day, I had long Speech of Master Hewet, touching foreign Affairs. He told me of this and that Estate in Yorkshire he had been buying, in the Parishes of Wales and Hartshill, and of his minding to send me down to see them, if I were ready to start off again so soon. I said, "I am quite ready, Sir." "Shortly thou shalt go, then," quod he. "And now take up these Letters to Anne, for they concern her more than me, being Thanks from some of her poor Pensioners." Adding, just as I was leaving, "Thou didst not make much way last Night, Ned ..." and smiled; which bewrayed to me that he had heard at least Part of what was said; which I was mad with him for, and thought not fair.

And now I began to muse within myself what a provoking Thing it was, that when all the Obstacles I had counted insurmountable between Anne and me had suddenly given Way, I should be brought up short by herself! Certes, an' she cared not for me, there was no more to be said; and Master Hewet would in no Ways be to blame if he gave her to Somebody else; neither had I ever sought nor had she ever bestowed any such Tokens of especial and considerable Regard as should encourage me to suppose I had only to ask and have. And yet, I had somehow always thought, "Only give me my fair Chance with the Rest, and I ask for nothing better." That was my Conceit and Presumption. Therefore with a very sad and sorry Aspect did I carry up the Letters to Mistress Anne, and used as few Words as need be in the delivering of them. She on her Part was equally dry, and gave me no Pretence to tarry, and yet I lingered. Seeing which, and that I was about to speak, (though I protest, on Somewhat quite as trivial as the Weather,) she suddenly coloured up very much and said, "Edward, if you are going to talk any more Nonsense, as you did last Night, I would rather go away." "There's no Need, Madam," said I coolly, "I had not such a Thought in my Head." On which she coloured still worse, and sitting down again began to read her Letters.