Then he told me, moreover, of a new custom is risen up in the Queen’s Majesty’s Court: for right courtly discourse he hath, and the names of dukes and earls do fly about in his talk as though he were hand and glove with every man of them. I do love to hear such discourse, and that right dearly. Many a time have I essayed for to win Mother to enter into talk touching those days when she dwelt in Surrey Place with my good Lady Countess of Surrey: but I wis not well wherefore, she ever seemeth to have no list to talk of that time. She will tell us of her ’prisonment in the Counter, and how Father brought the little shell for to comfort her, and at after how he fetched her out, and rode away with her and had a care of her, when as she was let forth: but even in that there seems me like as there should be a gap, which she never filleth up. I marvel if there were somewhat of that time the which she would not we should know. (Note 5.) I did once whisper a word of this make unto Nell: but Mistress Helena, that doth alway the right and meet thing, did seem so mighty shocked that I should desire to ferret forth somewhat that Mother had no list for me to know, that I let her a-be. But for all that would I dearly love to know it. I do take delight in digging up of other folks’ secrets, as much as in keeping of mine own.
Howbeit, here am I a great way off from Sir Edwin and his discourse of the new Court custom, the which hath name Euphuism, and is a right fair conceit, whereby divers gentlemen and gentlewomen do swear friendship unto one the other, by divers quaint names the which they do confer. Thus the Queen’s Majesty herself is pleased to honour some of her servants, as my Lord of Burleigh, who is her Spirit, and Sir Walter Raleigh her Water, and Mr Vice-Chamberlain (Sir Christopher Hatton) her Sheep, and Mr Secretary (Sir Francis Walsingham) her Moon. Sir Edwin saith he had himself such a friendship with some mighty great lady, whose name he would not utter, (though I did my best to provoke him thereto) he calling her his Discretion, and she naming him her Fortitude. Which is pleasant and witty matter. (Note 6.)
“And,” quoth Sir Edwin, “mine honey-sweet Mistress, if it may stand with your pleasure, let us two follow the Court fashion. You shall be mine Amiability, (loveliness, not loveableness), and (if it shall please you) shall call me your Protection. Have I well said, my fairest?”
“Indeed, Sir, and I thank you,” I made answer, “and should you do me so much honour, it should like me right well.”
By this time we were come to the turn nigh the garden gate, and I dared not be seen with Sir Edwin no nearer the house. The which he seemed to guess, and would there take his leave: demanding of me which road led the shortest way to Kirkstone Pass. So I home, and into our chamber to doff my raiment, where, as ill luck would have it, was Nell. Now, our chamber window is the only one in all the house whence the path to Jack’s hut can be seen: wherefore I reckoned me fairly safe. But how did mine heart jump into my mouth when Nell saith, as I was a-folding of my kerchief—
“Who was that with thee, Milly?”
Well, I do hope it was not wicked that I should answer,—“A gentleman, Nell, that would know his shortest way to Kirkstone Pass.” In good sooth, it was a right true answer: for Sir Edwin is a gentleman, and he did ask me which were the shortest way thereto. But, good lack! it seemed me as all the pins that ever were in a cushion started o’ pricking me when I thus spake. Yet what ill had I done, forsooth? I had said no falsehood: only shut Nell’s mouth, for she asked no further. And, dear heart, may I not make so much as a friend to divert me withal, but I must send round the town-crier to proclaim the same? After I had writ thus much, down come I to the great chamber, where I found Anstace and Hal come; and Hal, with Father and Mynheer, were fallen of mighty grave discourse touching the news of late come, that the Pope hath pretended to deprive the Queen’s Majesty of all right to Ireland. Well-a-day! as though Her Majesty should think to let go Ireland or any other land because a foreign bishop should bid her! Methinks this companion the Pope must needs be clean wood (mad).
Hal, moreover, is well pleased that the Common Council of London should forbid all plays in the City, the which, as he will have it, be ill and foolish matter. Truly, it maketh little matter to me here in Derwent dale: but methinks, if I dwelt in London town, I should be but little pleased therewith. Why should folk not divert them?
Being aweary of Master Hal’s grave discourse, went I over to Anstace, whom I found mighty busied of more lighter matter,—to wit, the sumptuary laws of late set forth against long cloaks and wide ruffs, which do ill please her, for Anstace loveth to ruffle it of a good ruff. Thence gat she to their Cicely, which is but ill at ease, and Dr Bell was fetched to her this last even: who saith that on Friday and Saturday the sign (of the Zodiac) shall be in the heart, and from Sunday to Tuesday in the stomach, during which time it shall be no safe dealing with physic preservative, whereof he reckoneth her need to be: so she must needs tarry until Wednesday come seven-night, and from that time to fifteen days forward shall be passing good.
Howbeit, we gat back ere long to the fashions, whereof Anstace had of late a parcel of news from her husband’s sister, Mistress Parker, that dwelleth but fifty miles from London, and is an useful sister for to have. As to the newest fashion of sleeves (quoth she), nothing is more certain than the uncertainty; and likewise of hoods. Cypress, saith she, is out of fashion (the which hath put me right out of conceit with my cypress kirtle that was made but last year), and napped taffeta is now thought but serving-man-like. All this, and a deal more, Anstace told us, as we sat in the compassed window (bay window).