"Is there no one to defend me against these rebellious Commons?" he cried, as if his reflections had become desperate and were no longer to be borne in silence.
"I have," said Strafford, "done my utmost. I am the best-hated man in England, sire, for what I have done to enforce your authority. But if none of my expedients avail your Majesty, if the people will not take a debased coinage, if the train-bands refuse to arm—if all the support of my Archbishop but end in his fleeing his palace, pursued by the people——"
"The people!" broke in Charles, "always the people!"
"Ay," said Strafford, "always—the people."
"And what, my lord," asked the King, "is your advice now?"
"Advice?" echoed the Earl; the sun now fell full over his fine face and showed it to be near as colourless as the rich lace collar he wore. "There is no advice to be given but this—Your Majesty must call a Parliament."
The King's mobile mouth curved scornfully.
"And what will be the first action of this new assembly?" he demanded. "To present a petition against my Lord Strafford as once a petition was presented against my Lord Buckingham. Do you not know how the nation deals with my friends?"
"Sire," replied the minister, with a great sweetness of manner that came with endearing charm from one of his stern and bold demeanour, "if Your Majesty calls me friend, it is enough. What shall I fear when the King stands by me?"
"Yes, yes," replied Charles, in sudden agitation; "they should not have had Buckingham, and they shall not have you—rest assured, my lord. Guard only from another Felton, and I will protect you from these baying hounds that hate us so."