I see youth full of discouragement and fear, I see it timid and despoiled, when it ought to be rich and powerful.

I yesterday evening, for example, open the door to a king of England, whose father, humble as I am, I was near saving, if God had not been against me--God, who inspired His elect, Cromwell! I open, I said, the door, that is to say, the palace of one brother to another brother, and I see--stop, sire, that is a load on my heart!--I see the minister of that king drive away the proscribed prince, and humiliate his master by condemning to want another king, his equal.

Then I see my prince, who is young, handsome, and brave, who has courage in his heart, and lightning in his eye,--I see him tremble before a priest, who laughs at him behind the curtain of his alcove, where he digests all the gold of France, which he afterwards stuffs into secret coffers.

Yes--I understand your looks, sire.

I am bold to madness; but what is to be said?
I am an old man, and I tell you here, sire, to you, my king, things which I would cram down the throat of any one who should dare to pronounce them before me.