Oh, get you gone and take your scribblings with you." The poor officer hastened to avail himself of this invitation.

Hurriedly collecting his parchments he bowed himself from the presence of his irate Sovereign.

At the door, about twelve feet away, however, he turned.
"My gracious Liege," he began, "the casting of the count is right.

Upon my honour as a Christian soul I can look your Majesty in the face with truth in my eye----" Now on the table there was a massive inkstand made from the horn of a ram mounted with silver feet.

This Henry seized and hurled with all his strength.