may rate high this poor
invention when the brawls of York and Lancaster are forgotten."

"Hear him," said Henry, with a soft smile, and laying his hand on the
shoulder of the young man, who was about to utter a passionate and
scornful retort,--"hear him, sir. Have I not often and ever said this
same thing to thee? We children of a day imagine our contests are the
sole things that move the world. Alack! our fathers thought the same;
and they and their turmoils sleep forgotten! Nay, Master Warner,"--for
here Adam, poor man, awed by Henry's mildness into shame at his
discourteous vaunting, began to apologize,--"nay, sir, nay--thou art
right to contemn our bloody and futile struggles for a crown of thorns;
for--"

'Kingdoms are but cares,
State is devoid of stay
Riches are ready snares,
And hasten to decay.'

[Lines ascribed to Henry VI., with commendation "as a prettie verse," by
Sir John Harrington, in the "Nugae Antiquate." They are also given, with
little alteration, to the unhappy king by Baldwin, in his tragedy of
"King Henry VI."]

"And yet, sir, believe me, thou hast no cause for vain glory in thine
own craft and labours; for to wit and to lere there are the same vanity
and vexation of spirit as to war and empire. Only, O would-be wise
man, only when we muse on Heaven do our souls ascend from the fowler's
snare!"

"My saint-like liege," said Allerton, bowing low, and with tears in his
eyes, "thinkest thou not that thy very disdain of thy rights makes thee
more worthy of them? If not for thine, for thy son's sake, remember
that the usurper sits on the throne of the conqueror of Agincourt!--Sir
Clerk, the letters."

Adam, already anxious to retrieve the error of his first forgetfulness,
here, after a moment's struggle for the necessary remembrance, drew the
papers from the labyrinthine receptacle which concealed them; and
Henry uttered an exclamation of joy as, after cutting the silk, his eye
glanced over the writing--

"My Margaret! my wife!" Presently he grew pale, and his hands trembled.
"Saints defend her! Saints defend her! She is here, disguised, in
London!"

"Margaret! our hero-queen! the manlike woman!" exclaimed Allerton,
clasping his hands. "Then be sure that--" He stopped, and abruptly
taking Adam's arm, drew him aside, while Henry continued to
read--"Master Warner, we may trust thee,--thou art one of us; thou art
sent here, I know; by Robin of Redesdale,--we may trust t