"Well, my good Lord," he said, "all this shows that, however firm you may be in the King's favour,--of which I believe you possess, as I have said, a lease for life,--a stumbling horse, a stag at bay, or a defluxion on the chest, might cast you from the height of power at any hour and day of the whole year, by his Majesty's death. He who fixes his fortune on the favour of another, renders himself doubly mortal. You must try to base yours, my good Lord, on something more stable." "On what?" asked Rochester. "On an alliance with the royal blood," replied Overbury. His companion fell into thought, which the knight took care not to interrupt; and at length Lord Rochester raised his head, saying, "I understand you now, Overbury; but is it possible? I see two great obstacles." "Name them, name them," exclaimed Sir Thomas, "and I will demolish them in a moment." "The first lies with the King," answered Rochester. "'Tis but the other day, when he refused one of the Electoral Princes for the Lady Arabella, that he afterwards laughed with me in his closet, and said, that though he might like to put two doves in a cage, he would never put two eagles; meaning that he would never consent to her marriage with any one; and of that I am quite sure." "With no sovereign Prince, most assuredly," replied Overbury; "for you may easily conceive what a handle might be made of her claims to the throne, in the hands of a foreign power. To any of his own subjects he will have nearly as much objection; for fear of breeding strife and contention in the land. But you, my dear Lord, are somewhat different from a common subject--you are his friend, his favourite, one on whom he can fully rely.--Nay, nay, do not shake your head! You do not suppose that if the Duke of York were of age sufficient, he would hesitate to extinguish the claims of the Lady Arabella, by a union with his own son? Does he consider you as less than his son? Has he not often declared that he regards you as his own child? Does he not, in fact, love you infinitely more than any of his own children?--Nay, to speak boldly and openly to one who, I know, will not betray me, you are right well assured that there is no principle of justice, no maxim of state policy, that he would not violate to give you pleasure. Happy for the country that you are not one ever to abuse such influence. No, my noble Lord, you have nothing to do but to praise the Lady Arabella to the King, to admire her eyes, to speak of her exquisite grace, the loveliness of her form, the sweetness of her smile, to sigh often, and look pale,--we can find means to make the complexion somewhat change--to affect a melancholy, and be no longer cheerful, but as it were by effort. Then, when the King inquires into your gloom, let him wring from you by slow degrees that you love the lady, but yet have never ventured to pay her the slightest court, or show her the least attention, because you know his Majesty's views, and not for the