Shyness, now turned coy and kept herself close; now and then letting _Tryphena_ flit through the Shop and be mistaken for her, after which the two would shut themselves up and go into Fits of Laughter. The Women all along the Bridge were out of Patience with her for what they would have it was simulated Bashfulness in one who meant to be stared at from Morn to Night on _Lord Mayor's_ Day. And they satisfied themselves that she was shutting herself up for Fear of freckling or sunburning. As for _Miles_, who always loved to do like the rest, he was evermore running over to Master _Soper_ to have his Hair cut, till at last it was hardly longer than the Nap of his Gown; and I almost think he would have submitted one of his good white Teeth to the Barber's Pincers, if he could have gained Admittance on no cheaper Terms; just to boast of it afterwards. At last, when the grand Day came, he and every 'Prentice on the Bridge mobbed the Barbitonsor's Door till _Tryphosa_ was fetched away in a close Litter. Then there was a Rush to the _Mercers'_ Hall, where Master _Gresham_, in his Scarlet and Gold, met his Livery in their new Gowns furred with Foins and Budge; and accompanied them, mounted, to _Guildhall_, where the late _Mayor_, _Sheriffs_, and _Aldermen_, met them on Horseback. Then they all took Barge to _Westminster_ and back, to the Sound of Trumpets, Sackbuts, and Shawlms, and the firing of small Guns, and exploding of Crackers. On re-landing at _Three Cranes' Wharf_, they re-mounted, and proceeded to _Paul's Churchyard_, where they met the Pageant, consisting of an exceeding magnifical Chariot, twenty-two Feet high, of the _Roman_ Build, entirely covered with silver embossed Work, having _Tryphosa_ therein, set on high, in Jewels and spangled Satin; her fair flaxen Tresses dishevelled, a Sceptre in one Hand, a Shield in the other, with all the Glory and Majesty possible to imagine:—_Fame_, blowing of a Trumpet right over her Head, _Wisdom_, _Modesty_, and all the rest, including the nine Muses, each in their proper Places; _Triumph_, driving nine white _Flanders_ Horses, three abreast; Grooms, Lictors, and Pages marching alongside the Equipage; and a Score of Salvages and Jacks-i'-the-Green, making diverting Remarks to all; and keeping the Crowd off with Squibs and Crackers. Oh! was ever Woman exalted one Day so high (even to the first-floor Windows), to come down so low into the Retiredness of domestic Life the next! What was _Cleopatra_ sailing down the _Cydnus_ to this? Did _Zenobia_, did _Semiramis_ ever have anything so fine in the Way of Triumph? Pish!—Moreover, there was a separate Table prepared for _Tryphosa_, who dined in State with her chosen Ladies, attended by Seneschals, Squires, and Pages, as if she had been a Queen. And had Swans' Pudding and Leche Lombard, I promise ye!