The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 250 : LUCY To drive her and her pride to Lucifer, I hope he means. [_Aside_.]MRS. FRAMPTON I

LUCY To drive her and her pride to Lucifer, I hope he means. [_Aside_.]

MRS. FRAMPTON I must go trim myself; this humbled garb Would shame a wedding feast. I have your leave For a short absence?--and your Katherine--

SELBY You'll find her in her closet--

MRS. FRAMPTON Fare you well, then. [_Exit_.]

SELBY How like you her a.s.surance?

LUCY Even so well, That if this Widow were my guest, not yours, She should have coach enough, and scope to ride.

My merry groom should in a trice convey her To Sarum Plain, and set her down at Stonehenge, To pick her path through those antiques at leisure; She should take sample of our Wilts.h.i.+re flints.

O, be not lightly jealous! nor surmise, That to a wanton bold-faced thing like this Your modest shrinking Katherine could impart Secrets of any worth, especially Secrets that touch'd your peace. If there be aught, My life upon't, 'tis but some girlish story Of a First Love; which even the boldest wife Might modestly deny to a husband's ear, Much more your timid and too sensitive Katherine.

SELBY I think it is no more; and will dismiss My further fears, if ever I have had such.

LUCY Shall we go walk? I'd see your gardens, brother; And how the new trees thrive, I recommended.

Your Katherine is engaged now--

SELBY I'll attend you. [_Exeunt._]

SCENE.--Servants' Hall.

HOUSEKEEPER, PHILIP, _and_ OTHERS, _laughing_.

HOUSEKEEPER Our Lady's guest, since her short ride, seems ruffled, And somewhat in disorder. Philip, Philip, I do suspect some roguery. Your mad tricks Will some day cost you a good place, I warrant.

PHILIP Good Mistress Jane, our serious housekeeper, And sage Duenna to the maids and scullions, We must have leave to laugh; our brains are younger, And undisturb'd with care of keys and pantries.

We are wild things.

BUTLER Good Philip, tell us all.

ALL Ay, as you live, tell, tell--

PHILIP Mad fellows, you shall have it.

The Widow's bell rang l.u.s.tily and loud--

BUTLER I think that no one can mistake her ringing.

WAITING-MAID Our Lady's ring is soft sweet music to it, More of entreaty hath it than command.

PHILIP I lose my story, if you interrupt me thus.

The bell, I say, rang fiercely; and a voice, More shrill than bell, call'd out for "Coachman Philip."

I straight obey'd, as 'tis my name and office.

"Drive me," quoth she, "to the next market town, Where I have hope of letters." I made haste.

Put to the horses, saw her safely coach'd, And drove her--

WAITING-MAID --By the straight high-road to Andover, I guess--

PHILIP Pray, warrant things within your knowledge, Good Mistress Abigail; look to your dressings, And leave the skill in horses to the coachman.

BUTLER He'll have his humour; best not interrupt him.

PHILIP 'Tis market-day, thought I; and the poor beasts, Meeting such droves of cattle and of people, May take a fright; so down the lane I trundled, Where Goodman Dobson's crazy mare was founder'd, And where the flints were biggest, and ruts widest, By ups and downs, and such bone-cracking motions, We flounder'd on a furlong, till my madam, In policy, to save the few joints left her, Betook her to her feet, and there we parted.

ALL Ha! ha! ha!

BUTLER Hang her! 'tis pity such as she should ride.

WAITING-MAID I think she is a witch; I have tired myself out With sticking pins in her pillow; still she 'scapes them--

BUTLER And I with helping her to mum for claret, But never yet could cheat her dainty palate.

HOUSEKEEPER Well, well, she is the guest of our good Mistress, And so should be respected. Though I think Our Master cares not for her company, He would ill brook we should express so much, By rude discourtesies, and short attendance, Being but servants. (_A bell rings furiously._) 'Tis her bell speaks now; Good, good, bestir yourselves: who knows who's wanted?

BUTLER But 'twas a merry trick of Philip coachman. [_Exeunt._]

SCENE.--_Mrs. Selby's Chamber._

MRS. FRAMPTON, KATHERINE, working.

MRS. FRAMPTON I am thinking, child, how contrary our fates Have traced our lots through life. Another needle, This works untowardly. An heiress born To splendid prospects, at our common school I was as one above you all, not of you; Had my distinct prerogatives; my freedoms, Denied to you. Pray, listen--

KATHERINE I must hear What you are pleased to speak!--How my heart sinks here!

[_Aside._]

MRS. FRAMPTON My chamber to myself, my separate maid, My coach, and so forth.--Not that needle, simple one, With the great staring eye fit for a Cyclops!

Mine own are not so blinded with their griefs But I could make a s.h.i.+ft to thread a smaller.

A cable or a camel might go through this, And never strain for the pa.s.sage.

KATHERINE

I will fit you.-- Intolerable tyranny! [_Aside._]

MRS. FRAMPTON Quick, quick; You were not once so slack.--As I was saying, Not a young thing among ye, but observed me Above the mistress. Who but I was sought to In all your dangers, all your little difficulties, Your girlish sc.r.a.pes? I was the scape-goat still, To fetch you off; kept all your secrets, some, Perhaps, since then--

KATHERINE No more of that, for mercy, If you'd not have me, sinking at your feet, Cleave the cold earth for comfort. [_Kneels._]

MRS. FRAMPTON This to me?