第7章 SCENE I.--An Apartment in Master Heartwell's H

[Enter FATHOM and THOMAS.]

Thos. Well, Fathom, is thy mistress up?

Fath. She is, Master Thomas, and breakfasted.

Thos. She stands it well! 'Twas five, you say, when she came home;and wants it now three-quarters of an hour of ten? Wait till her stock of country health is out.

Fath. 'Twill come to that, Master Thomas, before she lives another month in town! three, four, five six o'clock are now the hours she keeps. 'Twas otherwise with her in the country. There, my mistress used to rise what time she now lies down.

Thos. Why, yes; she's changed since she came hither.

Fath. Changed, do you say, Master Thomas? Changed, forsooth! Iknow not the thing in which she is not changed, saving that she is still a woman. I tell thee there is no keeping pace with her moods.

In the country she had none of them. When I brought what she asked for, it was "Thank you, Fathom," and no more to do; but now, nothing contents her. Hark ye! were you a gentleman, Master Thomas,--for then you know you would be a different kind of man,--how many times would you have your coat altered?

Thos. Why, Master Fathom, as many times as it would take to make it fit me.

Fath. Good! But, supposing it fitted thee at the first?

Thos. Then would I have it altered not at all.

Fath. Good! Thou wouldst be a reasonable gentleman. Thou wouldst have a conscience. Now hark to a tale about my lady's last gown.

How many times, think you, took I it back to the sempstress?

Thos. Thrice, may be.

Fath. Thrice, may be! Twenty times, may be; and not a turn too many, for the truth on't. Twenty times, on the oath of the sempstress. Now mark me--can you count?

Thos. After a fashion.

Fath. You have much to be thankful for, Master Thomas. You London serving-men have a world of things, which we in the country never dream of. Now mark:- Four times took I it back for the flounce;twice for the sleeves; three for the tucker--How many times in all is that?

Thos. Eight times to a fraction, Master Fathom.

Fath. What a master of figures you are! Eight times--now recollect that! And then found she fault with the trimmings. Now tell me, how many times took I back the gown for the trimmings?

Thos. Eight times more, perhaps!

Fath. Ten times to a certainty. How many times makes that?

Thos. Eighteen, Master Fathom, by the rule of addition.

Fath. And how many times more will make twenty?

Thee. Twice, by the same rule.

Fath. Thou hast worked with thy pencil and slate, Master Thomas!

Well, ten times, as I said, took I back the gown for the trimmings;and was she content after all? I warrant you no, or my ears did not pay for it. She wished, she said, that the slattern sempstress had not touched the gown, for nought had she done but botched it. Now what think you had the sempstress done to the gown?

Thos. To surmise that, I must be learned in the sempstress's art.

Fath. The sempstress's art! Thou hast hit it! Oh, the sweet sempstress! the excellent sempstress! Mistress of her scissors and needles, which are pointless and edgeless to her art! The sempstress had done nothing to the gown; yet raves and storms my mistress at her for having botched it in the making and mending; and orders her straight to make another one, which home the sempstress brings on Tuesday last.

Thos. And found thy fair mistress as many faults with that?

Fath. Not one! She finds it a very pattern of a gown! A well-sitting flounce! The sleeves a fit--the tucker a fit--the trimmings her fancy to a T--ha! ha! ha! and she praised the sempstress--ha! ha! ha! and she smiles at me, and I smile--ha! ha! ha! and the sempstress smiles--ha! ha! ha! Now, why did the sempstress smile?

Thos. That she had succeeded so well in her art.

Fath. Thou hast hit it again! The jade must have been born a sempstress! If ever I marry, she shall work for my wife. The gown was the same gown, and there was my mistress's twentieth mood!

Thos. What think you will Master Walter say when he comes back? Ifear he'll hardly know his country maid again. Has she yet fixed her wedding-day?

Fath. She has, Master Thomas. I coaxed it from her maid. She marries, Monday week.

Thos. Comes not Master Walter back to-day?

Fath. Your master expects him. [A ringing.] Perhaps that's he. Iprithee go and open the door; do, Master Thomas, do; for proves it my master, he'll surely question me.

Thos. And what should I do?

Fath. Answer him, Master Thomas, and make him none the wiser.

He'll go mad, when he learns how my lady flaunts it! Go! open the door, I prithee. Fifty things, Master Thomas, know you, for one thing that I know! You can turn and twist a matter into any other kind of matter; and then twist and turn it back again, if needs be;so much you servants of the town beat us of the country, Master Thomas. Open the door, now; do, Master Thomas, do!

[They go out.]