Edward Marston - The Merry Devils

Do not smile at me so!'

'How, then, should I smile at you, Father?'

I will not endure this impudence!'

But I am not trying to upset you, sir.'

'You study it,' he accused. 'Why did you visit the Queen's Head?'

'To see a comedy.'

'Is there laughter in blasphemy?'

'I shared in the laughter but saw no blasphemy.'

'Who enticed you to that evil place?

'Grace Napier,' she said. 'But it was not evil."

He blenched. 'The two of you? Unchaperoned?'

'Her brother escorted us there,' she lied.

'So the Napier family is to blame for leading you astray.'

No, Father. I went of my own free will.'

'That is even worse,' he said, stamping a foot. 'Can you not see the peril you courted? Plays are a source of corruption!'

'Have you never been to a playhouse?' she asked with a giggle. 'Come, I know you have. Mother has told me. There was a time when you organised an interlude at the Salters ' Company. And you often went to see a comedy at the Bel Savage in Ludgate. You liked plays then, Father, and they did not corrupt you.'

'Leave off these jests!'

'Grace and I watched three merry devils in a dance.'

'It was an act of profanity!'

'It was the funniest sight that ever I saw but it did me no harm except to make my ribs ache from laughing.'

'I will not bear this!' he howled.

Drewry took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. Why was it that other fathers had so little trouble with their daughters when he had so much? What fatal errors had he made in rearing the girl? Had he been too soft, too indulgent, too preoccupied with his civic duties and his business affairs? By now, Isobel should be married and ready to present him with his first grandchild, but she had rejected every husband that he chose for her and done so in round terms. It was time she learned that she could not flout his authority.

'You should not have gone to the Queen's Head,' he said.

'Why not, Father?'

'Because of my position as an Alderman. My dignity must be upheld at all costs. I would not have my daughter seen at a common playhouse.'

'But I was not seen- I wore a veil.'

'You are forbidden to go near a theatre!

'That is unfair,’ she protested.

‘It is my decree. Obey it to the letter.'

'But I have agreed to go to The Curtain with Grace this very afternoon. Do not make me disappoint lien'

'Tell Mistress Napier you are unable to go. And urge her, on a point of moral principle, not to attend the theatre herself.'

'Father, we both want to go there.'

'Playgoing is banned forthwith.'

'Why?'

'Because I would have it so,' he declared.

Before she could argue any further, he waddled out of the room and closed the door behind him. Isobel seethed with annoyance. Her father seemed to prohibit all the things in life that were really pleasurable. The need to maintain his dignity in the eyes of his peers was a burden on the whole family but especially on her. It imposed quite intolerable restraints on a young woman who craved interest and excitement. Isobel Drewry was trapped. She was still in a mood of angry dejection when a servant showed in Grace Napier.

I he newcomer was attired with discreet elegance and brought a delicate fragrance into the room. Something had put a bloom in her cheeks. Grace Napier was positively glowing.

'Master Hoode has sent a poem to me, Isobel.’

'Written by himself?'

'No question but that it is. A love sonnet.'

'You have made a conquest, Grace!'

'I own that I am flattered.'

'It is no more than you deserve,' said Isobel with a giggle. 'But show it me, please. I must see these fourteen lines of passion.'

'It is beautifully penned,' said Grace, handing over a scroll.

'The work of some scrivener, I vow.'

'No, Isobel. It is Master Hoode's own hand.'

Shrugging off her own problems, Isobel shared in her friend's delight. She read the poem with growing admiration. It was written by a careful craftsman and infused with the spirit of true love. Isobel was puzzled by the rhyming couplet which concluded the sonnet.

'To hear the warbling poet sing his fill,

Observe the curtained shepherd on the hill.'

'It is a reference to Cupid's Folly,' explained Grace. 'He takes the part of a shepherd at The Curtain this afternoon.'

'A pretty conceit and worthy of a kiss.'

'See how he plays with both our names in the first line.'

'"My hooded eyes will never fall from grace",' quoted Isobel. 'And watch how he rhymes "Napier" with "rapier". Your swain is fortunate that it was not I who bewitched him.'

'You?'

'He could not tinker so easily with "Isobel". And I defy him to find, a pleasing rhyme for "Drewry". I will not suffer "jury" or "fury".'

'You forget "brewery".'

They laughed together then Isobel handed the scroll back. She was thrilled on her friend's behalf. It was always exciting to attract the admiration of a gentleman but to enchant a poet gave special satisfaction. Like her, Grace Napier was not yet ready to consign herself to marriage and so was free to amuse herself with happy dalliance.

Envy competed with pleasure in Isobel's fair breast.

'I wish that T could take an equal part in your joy.'

'And so you shall, Isobel. Let us go to The Curtain.'

'It must remain undrawn for me, Grace.'

'Why so?'

'My father keeps me from the theatre.'

'On what compulsion?'

'His stern command.'

'Does he give reason?'

'He would not have me corrupted by knavery or drag his good name down by being seen at the playhouse.'

'These are paltry arguments.'

'Does not your father say the like?'

'Word for word,' replied Grace. 'I nod and curtsey in his presence then follow my inclination when lie is gone. Life is too short to have it marred by a foolish parent.'

'You speak true!' said Isobel with spirit.

'I would see my warbling poet this afternoon.'…

'Then so will I.'

'And if you cannot disobey your father?'

'What must I do?'.

'Mask your true intention.'

Grace Napier lifted up the feathered mask that hung from a ribbon at her wrist. Placing it over her own face, Isobel Drewry giggled in triumph. It was a most effective disguise and would hide her from any Aldermanic wrath. She thanked her friend with a peck on the cheek. Of the two, Isobel was by far the more extrovert and assertive. Not for the first time, however, it was the quiet Grace who turned out to have the stronger sense of purpose.

*

Cupids Folly was an ideal choice for The Curtain. On a bright summery afternoon, a pastoral comedy was much more acceptable to an audience that tended to be unruly if it was not sufficiently entertained. Dances and sword pi ay were the favoured ingredients at The Curtain, and Westfield s Men could offer both in abundance. Barnaby Gill was primed to do no less than four of his jigs and there were several comic duels to punctuate the action. Still jangled by their experience at the Queens Head, the company could relax slightly now. Cupid's Folly was harmless froth.

'Is my cap straight, Nick?' asked Edmund Hoode.

Too straight for any shepherd.'

And now? said the other, adjusting its angle.

'It is perfect. But do not shake so or the cap will fall off.'

'There is no help for it.'

'What frights you, Edmund?'

'It is not fear.'

Nicholas understood and left the matter tactfully alone. He had seen the subtle changes that Hoode's role underwent during the rehearsal. Flowery verse had been introduced into his speeches. Deep sighs were now everywhere. The lovelorn shepherd explored the outer limits of sorrow. The part had been cleverly reworked. It was Youngthrust in a sheepskin costume.

'Let's you and I speak together,' said Hoode.