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Crompe [agitated]. Yes, my Lady. Indeed, my Lady.... I have made provision to your order... for twenty persons.

Bess. Twenty? And I have told you forty....

Crompe. Thirty beds said Mrs. Glasse.

Bess. Mrs. Glasse knows nothing. Dare you scream ever to me of Mrs. Glasse, Crompe? [More quietly.] Listen, listen. The Queen brings five gentlemen—hungry riding gentlemen; six gentlewomen—weary riding women. God help us for their airs and graces, their wants and their want-nots! And the gentlemen must have their men. God help us again! Three in number these men. And the gentlewomen will bring two wives to wait on them, and there will be fourteen servitors, three cooks. Crompe, cease that arithmetic of your fingers, for it incenses me!—Four boys, ten wenches and children——

Crompe [aghast, counting on his fingers behind his back]. ’Tis forty-eight without the children, my Lady.

Bess. Well, well, can I not add two and two as well as you, Crompe? Does it help me if you stand there with a mouth like a porringer?