To this solution, one with a Roman nose made answer: “I hope, my lord, that after these men have played their pranks sufficiently, no man hereafter will presume to build his nest in the crown; but I hope there will be a knot of good fellows that may case the King’s head from the pricking of those thorns, and clear the crown from those incumbrances.” Whereupon the Marquess, replying, asked the party who related the story, “What manner of crown it was--of what form--that was upon the King’s head?” The gentleman replied, “A _royal_ crown.” “Ay; but I mean,” rejoined my lord, “was it an open or an imperial crown?” “An _open_ one.” “Oh, then, that was the reason; the King’s crown was too open: had it been close at top, with the <g>Cross</g> overhead [a sly word for the Roman Catholic faith], such unlucky birds could never have come there to have built their nests; but one thing there is,” said he, in conclusion, “that I mislike in the story, namely, that after they had taken the thorns from the King’s head, they should afterwards wear them in their own hatbands.”[305] This was what no one present could explain to the Marquess’s satisfaction. And Lord Glamorgan’s negotiations in Ireland proved a failure to remove any “thorns from the royal crown.”--So much for a prophecy which shows the superstition and credulity of the times--a credulity which tainted even those who were charged with the highest offices of the state. Yet such-- “The superstitious, idle-headed eld Received, and did deliver to our age.” In those days, no fortress surrendered, no castle fell, no band of heroes was discomfited, but in fulfilment of some irresistible “prophecy.”--But here we must close the subject with a few words on the