"Mutton's new chaplain, Dr. Bancroft, will be in trouble soon; he hath
been saying favourable things for some of us poor papists, and hath rated
the Precisians soundly. Sir Francis Knollys is wroth with him; but that
is no matter.--Her Grace played at cards till two of the clock this
morning, and that is why I am so desperate sleepy to-night, for I had to
sit up too; and that is a great matter.--Drake and Norris, 'tis said,
have whipped the dons again at Corunna; and the Queen has sworn to pull
my lord Essex his ears for going with them and adventuring his precious
self; and that is no matter at all, but will do him good.--George
Luttrell hath put up a coat of arms in his hall at Dunster, which is a
great matter to him, but to none else;--and I have robbed a highwayman
this day in the beech woods this side of Groombridge."
"Dear lady," said Mr. Buxton resignedly, as the others looked up
startled, "you are too swift for our dull rustic ears; we will begin at
the end, if you please. Is it true you have robbed an highwayman?"
"It is perfectly true," she said, and unlatched a ruby brooch, made
heart-shape, from her dress. "There is the plunder," and she held it out
for inspection.
"Then tell us the tale," said Anthony.
"It would be five of the clock," said Mary, "as we came through
Groombridge, and then into the woods beyond. I had bidden my knaves ride
on before with my woman; I came down into a dingle where there was a
stream; and, to tell the truth, I had my head down and was a-nodding,
when my horse stopped; and I looked up of a sudden and there was a man on
a bay mare, with a mask to his mouth, a gay green suit, a brown beard
turning grey, and this ruby brooch at his throat; and he had caught my
bridle.
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