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Crompe. But the children, my Lady!

Bess. And the horses, Crompe!

Crompe. Then there will be grooms also.

Bess. Oil your wits, Crompe, and think of the grooms. Man alive! if you stand in that spot the world will take you for a root of mandragora, to be torn out, howling, by dogs! Stir, stir! Do somewhat, or, if you cannot of yourself, remember you have a mistress, my good fool! [Rustles out into the corridor.]

Crompe [aside]. Who should ever forget it?

2nd S.W. [jumping up, points through the casement]. See, there is something. A boy runs... ’tis a post. My Lady, my Lady.

[Re-enter Lady Shrewsbury.]

2nd S.W. My Lady... there is a fire lighted on that hill, and a boy comes running.

Bess. Then the Frenchwoman is upon us. For God’s sake leave your stitching, and mend the rest with pins and nails as you best can! The carpenter shall aid you. To the Queen’s bedchamber—quick, quick! [Drives them in front of her.] Crompe, you follow.... No—go to the stables, the kitchens. Tell the men to bring more coals and bigger logs.... [Exeunt.... Her voice pursues the servants down the corridors.] Pile high the fires! Higher! More logs! Have the torches ready! Pile high the fires!