If
his Majesty sets black eyes on thee, thou art undone. If thou art
determined to go, we must have some way to prevent his falling in love
with thee. Thou wilt be willing to do this for me and--thyself, Love?"
"Then I might not become that I so much wish--a Lady of Honour!"
"That phrase, my Lambkin, is paradoxical--'Lady of Honour.'"
"Janet, thou dost turn all sweets to bitterness!--Then I will mottle
my face and wear a hump and be spurned outright. 'Twill ill serve me.
'Twill not accord a safe issue."
"Thou must not forget the King hath a tender heart for distress, and
now I think on it, 'tis possible, if thou didst so disfigure thyself,
thou wouldst gain his reply the quicker. We will mottle thy face with
leprous spots and cover thee with old woman's clothes, placing a hump
upon thy shoulder. And no one shall be privy to our scheme but his
Grace, and my lord of Buckingham, if they are to attend us." Janet
felt satisfied with the turn affairs had taken.
"I think I shall enjoy it hugely. 'Twill be fine sport to so puzzle
the King, and when he sees me as I am--" and Mistress Penwick turned
proudly to a mirror--"he will be pleased!"
"We will not think of that now, Lambkin.
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