“That was the king's secret, Master Heriot,” said Sir Mungo, throwing himself into a chair with an air of atrabilarious importance; “the other was a well-meaning hint to yourself, as the girl's friend.”
“Yes,” replied Heriot, “it was done like yourself—enough told to make me unhappy about her—not a word which could relieve my uneasiness.”
“Sir Mungo will not hear that remark,” said the lady; “we must change the subject.—Is there any news from Court, Sir Mungo? you have been to Greenwich?”
“You might as well ask me, madam,” answered the Knight, “whether there is any news from hell.”
“How, Sir Mungo, how!” said Sir Edward, “measure your words something better—You speak of the Court of King James.”
“Sir Edward, if I spoke of the court of the twelve Kaisers, I would say it is as confused for the present as the infernal regions. Courtiers of forty years' standing, and such I may write myself, are as far to seek in the matter as a minnow in the Maelstrom. Some folk say the king has frowned on the Prince—some that the Prince has looked grave on the duke—some that Lord Glenvarloch will be hanged for high treason—and some that there is matter against Lord Dalgarno that may cost him as much as his head's worth.”
“And what do you, that are a courtier of forty years' standing, think of it all?” said Sir Edward Mansel.
“Nay, nay, do not ask him, Sir Edward,” said the lady, with an expressive look to her husband.
“Sir Mungo is too witty,” added Master Heriot, “to remember that he who says aught that may be repeated to his own prejudice, does but load a piece for any of the company to shoot him dead with, at their pleasure and convenience.”
“What!” said the bold Knight, “you think I am afraid of the trepan? Why now, what if I should say that Dalgarno has more wit than honesty,—the duke more sail than ballast,—the Prince more pride than prudence,—and that the king—” The Lady Mansel held up her finger in a warning manner—“that the king is my very good master, who has given me, for forty years and more, dog's wages, videlicit, bones and beating.—Why now, all this is said, and Archie Armstrong [Footnote: The celebrated Court jester.] says worse than this of the best of them every day.”