"Your Majesty means the two Princes—Edward's sons," he said.
Richard's face showed blank surprise.
"Nay, my lord, I mean nothing in particular," he said. "I sought only what, in your opinion, was my chief embarrassment and peril… And you answer: the young Princes… By St. Paul! you may be right—give me your reasons."
Stanley saw his blunder and grew hot with rage. He had been outwitted; and now, as between him and the King, he must ever bear the burden of having first suggested Edward's sons as a menace to the State. The trap was so easy; and yet he had never seen it until it had caught him tight. And between his anger and the strange influence which Richard exercised over all men when in his presence, he blundered again—and worse than before.
"When, since time began," he asked, "has a new King had peace or comfort while his supplanted predecessor lived to breed revolt?"
Richard seized the opening instantly.
"Great St. George! You do not urge the Princes' death?" he exclaimed.
And Stanley floundered deeper.
"Holy Mother, Sire, do not misunderstand me," he answered. "I urge nothing. But the problem, as I see it, is, not why to act, but how to refrain."
"Yet Parliament has declared them bastards and so never eligible to the crown," Richard objected.