a lover of his country,
a faithful servant of his Queen, who had looked through the atmosphere of
falsehood in which he was doing his work, and who had detected, with rare
sagacity, the secret purposes of those who were then misruling the world?

Buckhurst had no choice, however, but to obey. His private efforts were
of course fruitless, but he announced to her Majesty that it was his
intention very shortly to bring the matter--according to her wish--before
the assembly.

But Elizabeth, seeing that her counsel had been unwise and her action
premature, turned upon her envoy, as she was apt to do, and rebuked him
for his obedience, so soon as obedience had proved inconvenient to
herself.

"Having perused your letters," she said, "by which you at large debate
unto us what you have done in the matter of peace . . . . we find it
strange that you should proceed further. And although we had given you
full and ample direction to proceed to a public dealing in that cause,
yet our own discretion, seeing the difficulties and dangers that you
yourself saw in the propounding of the matter, ought to have led you to
delay till further command from us."

Her Majesty then instructed her envoy, in case he had not yet "propounded
the matter in the state-house to the general assembly," to pause entirely
until he heard her further pleasure. She concluded, as usual, with a
characteristic postcript in her own hand.

"Oh weigh deeplier this matter," she said, "than, with so shallow a
judgment, to spill the cause, impair my honour, and shame yourself, with
all your wit, that once was supposed better than to lose a bargain for
the handling."

Certainly the sphinx could have propounded no more puzzling riddles than
those which Elizabeth thus suggested to Buckhurst. To make war without an
army, to support an army without pay, to frame the hearts of a whole
people to peace who were unanimous for war, and this without saying a
word either in private or public; to dispose the Netherlanders favourably
to herself and to Leicester, by refusing them men and money, brow-beating
them for asking for it, and subjecting them to a course of perpetual
insults, which she called "corrosives," to do all this and more seemed
difficult. If not to do it, were to spill the cause and to lose the
bargain, it was more than probable that they would be spilt and lost.

But the ambassador was no OEdipus--although a man of delicate perceptions
and brilliant intellect