"Nor your conscience either," rejoined Charlie. "Unless you have found some way to polish that, to make it match your face and manners, I should think your majesty might find your conscience rather a disagreeable companion." "My majesty is not accustomed to rebuke." "I know it--and if I were in France, I should fear that some of your Italian powders might be sprinkled in my food or wine, in consequence. But I wonder when I think of you--a simple duke's daughter--being raised to the throne; and not only that, but of your ruling so absolutely over the three kings, your sons. Mother-in-law to one of the greatest kings of France, and to the most renowned of beautiful, suffering queens, what more do you want to make you celebrated?" "One thing only," answered Amy. "The Massacre of St. Bartholomew will carry my name down to posterity. My daughter-in-law, Mary, Queen of Scotts, was interesting, but I am great. She could kill one husband: I, Catharine de Medici, will not say how many men groaned out my name that night." "And now," said Ellen, "let us play _Quotations_. One quotes a well-known passage from some book, and if another mentions the author, she is entitled to propose the next passage. It all depends for interest upon our cleverness; so brighten up your wits, cousins mine." "As I'm a poet," said Charlie, "I'll give you this: 'The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven.'" "Shakspeare!" cried Tom. "Now where does this come from: 'the better part of valor is--discretion.'" "Shakspeare again," replied Alice. "And in what book do you find this passage, which corroborates that noble sentiment: 'He that fights and runs away, May live to fight another day.'" "In Butler's Hudibras, I believe," rejoined Ellen. "And where may that truth be found, which evidently is intended only for boys and men--'Use every man after his desert, and who shall escape whipping?'" "Of course it was said by no one else than Will Shakspeare, the deer-stealer--he knew it held good of himself, and was indulgent to others. And who was it that wrote this epitaph: 'Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as can die: Which in life did harbor give To more virtue than can live.'" "That was 'rare Ben Jonson,' I am sure," replied Alice. "If her pale ghost could have blushed, I think it would, at such lofty and exquisite praise. For my part, I could say, 'Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.'" "That's Shakspeare again," cried Charlie. "It is surprising how many passages come into one's head from that wonderful man's works. Where is this to be found: 'God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.'" "In the Bible, of course--though I do not remember in what part," said Mary. "Think again," replied Charlie, "for you are quite wrong: it can never be found in the Bible."