Elizabeth. Lady mother, there were no flowers. I have sought in the lanes, and there is no joy in them. And so I would twine the laurels and ivy into chains and see the leaves shine in the firelight.
Bess [sharply]. No time for garlands. There will be chains enough truly. Go, fetch me this green stuff away. Throw it out of the window, Crompe. Bet, fetch your needle and mend me yonder cushion. [Goes to door and calls.] Mrs. Glasse! Wenches! [Women come running. Mrs. Glasse, the housekeeper, follows with a bundle of linen.]
Bess. Listen to me, all of you. Here is my Lord’s tale of the things which must be ready. As I read so do you answer, Mrs. Glasse. Thirty pallets must be ready.
Mrs. Glasse. Only twenty have mattresses, my Lady.
Bess. Have you not five feather-beds, woman?
Mrs. G. Only three, my Lady. The two others have been taken for the captain of the soldiers that is coming.
Bess. By whose order?
Mrs. G. I know not.
Bess. Take them away instantly and put instead the old mattress from the old state-couch. The other five must make shift without mattresses.
Mrs. G. My Lady, there are not pillows for more than fifteen beds.