"I guess shop-folk should be something put to it to take twenty-three out of sixteen," quoth _Father_. "And prithee, _Ned_, how many such suits hath my young gentleman in his wardrobe?" "That cannot I say certainly, Sir: but I would guess six or seven," _Ned_ makes answer. "But, dear heart! you wit not the half hath to come of that sixteen pound: beyond clothes, there be presents, many and rich (this last new year but one girdle of seven pound;) pomanders [perfumed balls, which served as scent-bottles], and boxes of orange comfits, and cups of tamarisk wood, and _aqua mirabilis_, and song books, and virginals [the predecessor of the piano] and viols [violins], and his portrait in little, and playing tables [backgammon], and speculation glasses [probably magnifying glasses], and cinnamon water, and sugar-candy, and fine _Venice_ paper for his letters, and pouncet-boxes--" "Take breath, _Ned_," saith _Father_. "How many letters doth _Wat_ write by the year?" "They be love-letters, on the _Venice_ paper," quoth _Ned_. "In good sooth, I wis not, Sir: only I saw them flying hither and thither as thick as Mother _Carey's_ chickens." "Is he troth-plight?" saith _Father_, very seriously. "Not that I heard," _Ned_ makes answer. "He had two or three strings to his bow, I guess. One a right handsome young lady, daughter unto my Lord of _Sheffield_, that had taken up with him the new fashion called _Euphuism_." "Prithee interpret, _Ned_," saith _Father_, "for that passeth my weak head." I saw _Milly_ to blush, and cast down her eyes of her tapestry-work: and I guessed she wist what it were. "'Tis a rare diversion, Sir, come up of late," answers _Ned_: "whereby, when a gentlewoman and a gentleman be in treaty of love,--or without the same, being but friends--they do agree to call each other by certain dainty and fantastical names: as the one shall be _Perfection_, and the other _Hardihood_: or, the one _Sweetness_, and the other _Fortitude_: and the like. I prayed _Wat_ to show me how it were, or else had I wist no more than a baker how to reef a sail. The names whereby he and his lady do call each other be, she his _Excellency_, and he her _Courage_." "Be these men and women grown?" quoth _Father_. "Nay, sure!" cries Cousin _Bess_. "Every one, Sir," saith _Ned_, a-laughing. "And, poor souls! can they find nought better to do?" quoth _Father_. "They have not yet, it seems," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "Are you ne'er mocking of us, think you?" saith Cousin _Bess_ to _Ned_. "Never a whit!" crieth he. "Eh, Cousin _Bess_, I could tell you queerer matters than that." "Nay, I'll hear none, o' my good will," saith she. "_Paul_ saith we be to think on whatsoever things be lovely: and I reckon he wasn't like to mean on a parcel o' big babes, playing at make-believe." "They have nought else to do, it appears," quoth _Father_.