"All is ill, man--and as ill nearly as possible; so much for thy fond romantic advice, that I, of all men, should become a protector of distressed damsels! I tell thee Burgundy is arming, and on the eve of closing an alliance with England.

And Edward, who hath his hands idle at home, will pour his thousands upon us through that unhappy gate of Calais.

Singly, I might cajole or defy them; but united, united--and with the discontent and treachery of that villain Saint Paul!--All thy fault, Oliver, who counselled me to receive the women, and to use the services of that damned Bohemian to carry messages to their vassals." "My lord," said Oliver, "you know my reasons.

The Countess's domains lie between the frontiers of Burgundy and Flanders--her castle is almost impregnable--her rights over neighbouring estates are such as, if well supported, cannot but give much annoyance to Burgundy, were the lady but wedded to one who should be friendly to France." "It is, it is a tempting bait," said the King; "and could we have concealed her being here, we might have arranged such a marriage for this rich heiress as would have highly profited--France.

But that cursed Bohemian, how couldst thou recommend such a heathen hound for a commission which required trust ?" "Please you," said Oliver, "to remember it was your Grace's self who trusted him too far--much farther than I recommended.