"The de'ils in the clerks!" he exclaimed. "The lazy loons are getting daily more slow, though not more circumspect. Why, the lassie may take wing, and be away afore the warrants are ready. Go your ways and hasten him, Sir Thomas. You can write a good hand yourself, and need not mind holding a pen at the King's command."
"I shall do so, as in duty bound, sire," replied Overbury, "and I can make out that against Mr. Seymour, while the clerk finishes the one against the Lady Arabella;" and he accordingly retired, mentally resolving that the assistance which he was about to lend should not greatly accelerate the drawing up of the papers.
When he was gone, the King continued for a minute or two to move about in his cabinet, with the sort of irritable activity which has acquired the name of fidgetting. Changing the place of this article and that, pulling the points of his hose, buttoning and unbuttoning his pourpoint, sitting down and then rising up, and displaying many signs and symptoms of that state of ennui in which impatience is blended with listlessness.
At the end of that time, however, there was a gentle tap at the door of the cabinet, and, exclaiming pettishly, "Come in, come in!" the King fixed his eyes upon the entrance, at which immediately appeared the stout, raw-boned person, and broad, but somewhat coarse face, of one of his Scotch attendants.
"Ah, Maxwell!" cried James, "why, where ha'e you been, man? I thought all the world had forgotten their loyalty, and left their King, without respect and decency. Here was Rochester came in and whiffled me a jest, and out again, to put on a ruby he had forgotten. So he said; but methinks it was to other purpose that he went; and no one has been here but Sir Thomas Overbury, who seems to be the only man that thinks his King's service worth attending to."
The querulous tone in which James spoke, indicated a mood ready to receive evil impressions of any one; and as Maxwell was not particularly well-inclined, any more than other courtiers, to make favourable reports of his rivals in the King's power, he seized the opportunity to damage the reputation of one who was rising too high over the heads of the minor aspirants to escape jealousy.
"Oh, your Majesty has not a more faithful servant, I am sure, than Sir Thomas Overbury," he said; "he is only a little dull in believing that others will rebel against your will, or thwart your sagacious views. Your Majesty recollects the business about Mr. Seymour and the Lady Arabella."
"Hout tout! Maxwell," cried the King, interrupting him before he could go further; "you're a jealous beast. But you've missed your fire, my man. Your match has burnt out, and will not light the powder. Why, Overbury has, this very morning, laid open to me all their doings; and is now drawing up the warrants for their arrest."
"The warrants will take a long time drawing, then, your Majesty," replied Maxwell. "If I were a king, or you, sire, a poor Scotch gentleman like myself, I'd bet you a stoup of wine that there will be one mistake or another about drawing up the warrants, till a full hour be lost; and then the messengers may whistle for the lady or her lover."
"Ha, what's that?--what's that?" cried the King. "Why, there has been one mistake already.--You're either a warlock, Maxwell, or you know more about the affair than you tell. Speak plain, man! speak plain! What have you seen?--what have you heard?"