Then cometh in my Lord, very brave, in blue Silk and Silver. How laughable it was, if I could but have felt merry! _Damaris_, questionless, was laughing in her Sleeve. My Lord steps up to Mistress _Anne_, with easy Assuredness, and touches with his Lips a very pretty Fabrick of Silk rayed with Silver, for she gave him a gloved Hand. Then he hoped she had rested better than he had, as in Sooth he saw by her divine Looks she must needs have done; and he marvelled not that Roses were at no Price to be had just now at Court, since 'twas plain they found a more nourishing Soil in the City; and so forth, like a Valentine, calling her Looks Nature's sweetest Books, her Tresses golden Meshes, her Voice Musick, her Favour Heaven, with Apostrophes to _Venus_ and _Cupid_, and Asseverations that he was a Prey to a Mind delighting in Sorrow, Spirits wasted with Passion, a Heart torn in Pieces with Care. To which she made Answer, that she hoped he overstated his ill Condition. To which he responded that if he did, 'twas _error amoris_, not _amor erroris_. With othermuch i' the same Vein, that he cared no Whit for mine hearing, but rather enjoyed having another Listener while he ran off Phrases that it seemed to me he must needs have got by Heart. I thought, As she liketh not my Fashion, maybe she liketh this. Howbeit, there was Nothing in her Favour to discover whether she did or no. So after a set Time given to this Court-like Parry and Thrust, this Quip and Compliment, whereby I wist not how a Man could suppose his Suit moved one Way or the other, my Lord takes leave with easy Grace, as a Man who had, in one Affair, transacted the Business of the Day to his Satisfaction. So soon as he hath departed, Mistress _Anne_ falls a laughing, when in cometh Master _Hewet_, looking somewhat harassed; seeing which, _Damaris_ sweeps up her Work and departs, leaving us all with grave Faces. "_Nan_," quoth Master _Hewet_, casting himself into his Arm-chair, "I must have a few Words with thee of this Suitor of thine." "We are not alone, _Father_," interrupted Mistress _Anne_, casting a quick, apprehensive Look towards me. "Tilly-valley," he responded, "none other is within Earshot of us but _Ned Osborne_, who is only an _alter ego_." "He may be thine, _Father_, but he is not mine," quod Mistress _Anne_, somewhat captiously, "and I pray you to defer what you have to say to me till we are by ourselves." "Maiden, thou art over-hasty," quod Master _Hewet_, looking fixedly at her, "and, in thy Fear of being over-civil unto one who has been unto thee as a Brother, and to whom, moreover, thou owest thy Life, art somewhat failing in good Manners." Her Eye sank before his, and she submissively replied, "Well, then, _Father_, what is it thou wouldest say?" "Just this," he returned, "whether Lord or Commoner, the Youth must have an Answer, so soon as thou knowest thine own Mind." "I know it already," quod Mistress _Anne_, shortly.