Elizabeth. These three are signed. Take them to Burleigh. This I’ll not grant. Tell him so! [The man bows and goes out.]
Hawker [nearer]. Cress! Buy cress!
Elizabeth. There! Put the papers by!
The girl at the window comes down to the table and begins to sort them.
Another Hawker. Strawberries! Ripe strawberries!
The Girl. I wonder, Madam, that you choose this room Here on the noisy street.
Elizabeth. Child, when you marry Who’ll rule your nursery, you or your maids?
Girl. Why, that I will!
Elizabeth. Then you must sit in it daily. Where’s Mary Fitton?
Girl. In waiting, Madam, and half asleep. She was up early to-day. I saw her from my window by the little garden door and called to her. She had been out to pick roses, as you bade her, ere the dew dried on them.