We are all, it seems, to receive the Queen at what they call the Gallery-tower, and witness some fooleries there; and then we're to remain in attendance upon the Queen in the Great Hall--God bless the mark!--while those who are now waiting upon her Grace get rid of their slough, and doff their riding-suits.
Heaven help me, if her Grace should speak to me, I shall never know what to answer!" "And what has detained them so long at Warwick ?" said Tressilian, unwilling that their conversation should return to his own affairs.
"Such a succession of fooleries," said Blount, "as were never seen at Bartholomew-fair.

We have had speeches and players, and dogs and bears, and men making monkeys and women moppets of themselves--I marvel the Queen could endure it.

But ever and anon came in something of 'the lovely light of her gracious countenance,' or some such trash.

Ah! vanity makes a fool of the wisest.

But come, let us on to this same Gallery-tower--though I see not what thou Tressilian, canst do with thy riding-dress and boots." "I will take my station behind thee, Blount," said Tressilian, who saw that his friend's unusual finery had taken a strong hold of his imagination; "thy goodly size and gay dress will cover my defects." "And so thou shalt, Edmund," said Blount.