“Tush!” said the king, petulantly, “the noblest part of a king’s nature is his pride as king!” Again he strode the chamber, and again halted. “But the earl hath fallen into his own snare,—he hath promised in my name what I will not perform. Let the people learn that their idol hath deceived them. He asks me to dismiss from the court the queen’s mother and kindred!”
Hastings, who in this went thoroughly with the earl and the popular feeling, and whose only enemies in England were the Woodvilles, replied simply,—
“These are cheap terms, sire, for a king’s life and the crown of England.”
Edward started, and his eyes flashed that cold, cruel fire, which makes eyes of a light colouring so far more expressive of terrible passions than the quicker and warmer heat of dark orbs. “Think you so, sir? By God’s blood, he who proffered them shall repent it in every vein of his body! Hark ye, William Hastings de Hastings, I know you to be a deep and ambitious man; but better for you had you covered that learned brain under the cowl of a mendicant friar than lent one thought to the counsels of the Earl of Warwick.”
Hastings, who felt even to fondness the affection which Edward generally inspired in those about his person, and who, far from sympathizing, except in hate of the Woodvilles, with the earl, saw that beneath that mighty tree no new plants could push into their fullest foliage, reddened with anger at this imperious menace.
“My liege,” said he, with becoming dignity and spirit, “if you can thus address your most tried confidant and your lealest friend, your most dangerous enemy is yourself.”
“Stay, man,” said the king, softening. “I was over warm, but the wild beast within me is chafed. Would Gloucester were here!”
“I can tell you what would be the counsels of that wise young prince, for I know his mind,” answered Hastings.
“Ay, he and you love each other well. Speak out.”
“Prince Richard is a great reader of Italian lere. He saith that those small States are treasuries of all experience. From that lere Prince Richard would say to you, ‘Where a subject is so great as to be feared, and too much beloved to be destroyed, the king must remember how Tarpeia was crushed.”