The Player. Last Christmas tide;
And Twelfth Day eve, perchance. Your memory
Freshens a dusty past.... The hubbub's over.
Shall I look forth and find some trusty boy
To attend you to the river?
Anne. I thank you, sir.
[He goes to the door and steps out into the alley, looking up and down. The noise in the distance springs up again.]
[Apart.] 'Tis not past sufferance. Marry, I could stay
Some moments longer, till the streets be safe.
Sir, sir!
The Player [returning].
Command me, madam.
Anne. I will wait
A little longer, lest I meet once more
That ruffian mob or any of the dogs.
These sports are better seen from balconies.
The Player.
Will you step hither? There's an arbored walk
Sheltered and safe. Should they come by again,
You may see all, an't like you, and be hid.
Anne.
A garden there? Come, you shall show it me.
[They go out into the garden on the right, leaving the door shut. Immediately enter, in great haste, Mary Fytton and William Herbert, followed by Dickon, who looks about and, seeing no one, goes to setting things in order.]
Mary.
Quick, quick!... She must have seen me. Those big eyes,
How could they miss me, peering as she was
For some familiar face? She would have known,
Even before my mask was jostled off
In that wild rabble ... bears and bearish men.