But alliance with Burgundy is war with France,--war more deadly because Louis is a man who declares it not; a war carried on by intrigue and bribe, by spies and minions, till some disaffection ripens the hour when young Edward of Lancaster shall land on thy coasts, with the Oriflamme and the Red Rose, with French soldiers and English malcontents.

Wouldst thou look to Burgundy for help ?--Burgundy will have enough to guard its own frontiers from the gripe of Louis the Sleepless.

Edward, my king, my pupil in arms, Edward, my loved, my honoured liege, forgive Richard Nevile his bluntness, and let not his faults stand in bar of his counsels." "You are right, as you are ever, safeguard of England, and pillar of my state," said the king, frankly, and pressing the arm he still held.

"Go to France and settle all as thou wilt." Warwick bent low and kissed the hand of his sovereign.

"And," said he, with a slight, but a sad smile, "when I am gone, my liege will not repent, will not misthink me, will not listen to my foes, nor suffer merchant and mayor to sigh him back to the mechanics of Flanders ?" "Warwick, thou deemest ill of thy king's kingliness." "Not of thy kingliness; but that same gracious quality of yielding to counsel which bows this proud nature to submission often makes me fear for thy firmness, when thy will is, won through thy heart.