If, says Sir Robert, they refuse—‘as I believe they will’—then are they authors of the scandal, and His Majesty should be addressed to send a ‘letter of complaint to the King of Spain, requiring justice to be done according to the law of nations, which claim should the King of Spain refuse, the refusal would amount to a declaration of war.’ This advice was given by COTTON to the Duke on the 27th of April, 1624. Its author’s momentary favour with the favourite of the now fast-rising sun was destined (as we shall see presently) to be of extremely brief duration. Pen-service of this sort was eminently congenial with Sir Robert COTTON’S powers. To his vast knowledge of precedents he added much acumen and just insight in their application. Though never admitted to the Privy Council as a sworn councillor of the Crown, his service as an adviser on several great emergencies was conspicuous. And it did not stand alone. Small as were his natural gifts for oratory, COTTON’S earnestness in the strife of politics prompted him, more than once, to put aside his own sense of his disadvantages, and to endeavour himself to strike a good blow, with the weapons which he knew so well how to choose for others. [Sidenote: COTTON’S SPEECH IN THE PARLIAMENT AT OXFORD.] On one of these occasions he prepared a speech which proved very effective. [Sidenote: 1625. 10 August.] Curiously enough, whilst the best contemporary reports of that speech agree amongst themselves in substance; they differ as to the name of the speaker by whom it was actually uttered within the walls of the House of Commons. Internal evidence and external authority are also agreed that the speech, if not spoken, was at all events prepared by Sir Robert COTTON. On that point, all parties coincide. But according to one account, he both wrote and uttered it. According to another, he wrote it; but was prevented from the intended delivery,—either by an accidental absence from the House, or by some inward and unwaivable misgiving which led him at the eleventh hour to hand over the task to the able and well-accustomed tongue of his comrade ELIOT. [Sidenote: COTTON’S? OR ELIOT’S?] If we turn, for help—in our strait—to the admirable biography of ELIOT, by Mr. FORSTER, we shall find that its author rather accepts the doubt, than solves it. Inclining to the opinion that Sir John ELIOT was the actual utterer, he thinks nevertheless that the best course is to ‘let the speech stand double and inseparable; a memorial of a fast friendship.’ It was the friendship, I may add, of two statesmen who fought a good fight, side by side; until one of them was violently torn out of the arena, and thrust into a dungeon, in the hope that slow disease might unstring the eloquent tongue which honours could not bribe, and terrors could not silence.