“Oh, my Lord! ’t is worth full three thousand pounds!” said Bacon.
“Tut, a pin!” laughed the Earl. “’T is thine, an’ thou lovest me! But some one comes. No more words, now!”
Master Bacon, though he was evidently greatly moved, would probably have spoken further, notwithstanding the young Earl’s request; but before he could give utterance to his sentiments, a servant opened the chamber-door, and two cavaliers, about the middle age, and of graceful and prepossessing appearance, thereupon pushed in.
“See, see, my Lord Rutland,” cried the foremost cavalier to the other; “if we have not caught him with philosophy, let me die! Thou hast lost thy wager!”
“And prithee what doth the wager affect, my Lord Bedford?” cried Essex, with a smile.
“Rutland here, in his exquisite conceit, wagered me thou hadst departed for Portsmouth,” answered the Earl of Bedford. “The wager is no less than ten angels.”
“Give thee joy of it!” said the Earl of Rutland. “I had rather lose the angels, than lose my gossip’s company to Portsmouth.”
“I’faith, now,” cried Essex, “thou makest me sorry that thou hast lost. I am simply waiting for Hal Tracey, and then I am off.”
“We will with thee, then,” cried the other two Earls together.
“Thanks, thanks!” returned Essex. “I volunteer with Drake. Who serve you with?”
“Oh, Drake!” answered Rutland. “And if we fight bravely, he hath promised us, by way of guerdon, a jorum of liquor anon, at the sign of the ’Three Jolly Mariners.’”
This announcement drew from his auditors a loud laugh, but the speaker himself, with a happy craft, looked quite grave, as though he considered the promised guerdon a matter of moment. While the laughter was yet in progress, the chamber-door, which was right behind Rutland, was again opened, and another cavalier entered.
“All hail, lag-behind!” cried Rutland, glancing at the new comer.
“Lag-behind in thy teeth, slanderous peer!” answered the person addressed. “I should have been here an hour agone, only that that gossiping wight, Squire Harrington, met me on the way; and who could ever break from him?”
“None, none, I’ll warrant thee, good Cromwell!” said the Earl of Bedford. “But, prithee, tell us Master Harrington’s news. How many fair ladies hath he given over for lost?”