"I would I had one left of them all," said Sir Michael, with a groan; "or anybody with a head-piece on a sound body. You see what I am, and Simon is well-nigh a cripple these three years."
And with that I cantered up to them; and, bringing suddenly my horse to a stand, and saluting very finely, more militari—"I will go, sir," I cried.
"Who 's here?" cries my father, and "Mercy on us!" says my lady, like any milkmaid, in one breath with him.
"Who but your son Philip?" I answered, laughing gaily, and, I think, blushing a little, as well indeed I might. "And your son Philip is the best horseman in the country; your son Philip bestrides the best nag in three; and your son Philip knows the crow's-road to Royston, while it is of common knowledge that he has a very pretty head-piece on his shoulders."
My father being past speaking for amazement, my lady breaks in with: "Thou 'rt a brave girl, but why this masquerade, dear child?"
"To convince Sir Michael Drayton," I pertly replied, "that there is some use even in daughters, when they can hold a sword and sit in a war-saddle of Prince Rupert's time."
Sir Michael here made to seize my bridle, but Roan Charley had caught excitement from my voice, and a little slacking of his rein with a pressure of the knee at once put him at the distance of three great bounds from any detaining hand.
"Come back, Philippa!" cries my father.
"Not so, dear sir," said I, turning in the saddle, "for I shall go, an you will allow it."
"The roads and fields are not safe for thee, child," said he, "with so many bad men about, and an army close to hand, else were I willing enough."