een Ardres and Guisnes, commonly called the Field of the
Cloth of Gold. Here, all manner of expense and prodigality was lavished
on the decorations of the show; many of the knights and gentlemen being
so superbly dressed that it was said they carried their whole estates
upon their shoulders.

There were sham castles, temporary chapels, fountains running wine, great
cellars full of wine free as water to all comers, silk tents, gold lace
and foil, gilt lions, and such things without end; and, in the midst of
all, the rich Cardinal out-shone and out-glittered all the noblemen and
gentlemen assembled. After a treaty made between the two Kings with as
much solemnity as if they had intended to keep it, the lists--nine
hundred feet long, and three hundred and twenty broad--were opened for
the tournament; the Queens of France and England looking on with great
array of lords and ladies. Then, for ten days, the two sovereigns fought
five combats every day, and always beat their polite adversaries; though
they _do_ write that the King of England, being thrown in a wrestle one
day by the King of France, lost his kingly temper with his brother-in-
arms, and wanted to make a quarrel of it. Then, there is a great story
belonging to this Field of the Cloth of Gold, showing how the English
were distrustful of the French, and the French of the English, until
Francis rode alone one morning to Henry's tent; and, going in before he
was out of bed, told him in joke that he was his prisoner; and how Henry
jumped out of bed and embraced Francis; and how Francis helped Henry to
dress, and warmed his linen for him; and how Henry gave Francis a
splendid jewelled collar, and how Francis gave Henry, in return, a costly
bracelet. All this and a great deal more was so written about, and sung
about, and talked about at that time (and, indeed, since that time too),
that the world has had good cause to be sick of it, for ever.

Of course, nothing came of all these fine doings but a speedy renewal of
the war between England and France, in which the two Royal companions and
brothers in arms longed very earnestly to damage one another. But,
before it broke out again, the Duke of Buckingham was shamefully executed
on Tower Hill, on the evidence of a discharged servant--really for
nothing, except the folly of having believed in a friar of the name of
HOPKINS, who had pretended to be a prophet, and who had mumbled and
jumbled out some nonsense about the