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: