"I only meant, my lord," said Varney, "that Tressilian has taken the
sure way to avoid heart-breaking. He hath had a companion--a female
companion--a mistress--a sort of player's wife or sister, as I
believe--with him in Mervyn's Bower, where I quartered him for certain
reasons of my own."
"A mistress!--meanest thou a paramour?"
"Ay, my lord; what female else waits for hours in a gentleman's
chamber?"
"By my faith, time and space fitting, this were a good tale to tell,"
said Leicester. "I ever distrusted those bookish, hypocritical,
seeming-virtuous scholars. Well--Master Tressilian makes somewhat
familiar with my house; if I look it over, he is indebted to it for
certain recollections. I would not harm him more than I can help. Keep
eye on him, however, Varney."
"I lodged him for that reason," said Varney, "in Mervyn's Tower, where
he is under the eye of my very vigilant, if he were not also my very
drunken, servant, Michael Lambourne, whom I have told your Grace of."
"Grace!" said Leicester; "what meanest thou by that epithet?"
"It came unawares, my lord; and yet it sounds so very natural that I
cannot recall it."
"It is thine own preferment that hath turned thy brain," said Leicester,
laughing; "new honours are as heady as new wine."
"May your lordship soon have cause to say so from experience," said
Varney; and wishing his patron good night, he withdrew. [See Note 8.
Furniture of Kenilworth.]