PHILIP Mad fellows, you shall have it. The Widow's bell rang lustily 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._]