As he had always done throughout his reign at such a juncture, he looked to England for aid. The insults offered by Henry VIII. to his House and to the Catholic faith, whose champion he was, had not been able to alienate the Emperor, who well knew that with England permanently on the side of France against him, the vast ambitions he cherished for himself, his son, and his country were doomed to failure; and now, notwithstanding the still more aggressive Protestantism of young Edward VI. and his mentors, it was as necessary to Charles as ever it had been to secure the goodwill of England in his struggle against France in defence of his own Netherlands. So long as Charles had been fighting his German Lutheran subjects it was hopeless for him to bid for Northumberland’s help; and one of the considerations that led him to accept the terms imposed upon him by Maurice and the Germans was that thereby he might the better enlist his old ally England against the monstrous coalition of France, the Pope, and the Turk. The suggestion for an alliance had reached Northumberland from Charles’ sister, Mary Queen of Hungary, his Regent of the Netherlands; and Moryson had received his answer from England whilst he was following a day’s march behind the Emperor and his army, who were on their way from Austria to Flanders when Charles had fallen ill at Landau. Much dulcet verbiage there was in Moryson’s address, and much vague desire expressed on the part of the English King—or, rather, the Duke of Northumberland—to join a coalition against the Turk; but what Charles so eagerly listened for—a declaration against the French—came not; though he knew that the English had just then a bitter quarrel of their own with France about the seizure of English ships and cargoes by French privateers. Charles lisped and mumbled much at the best of times, but now that he had the green leaf on his lip, it was difficult for Moryson to understand what he said in reply to the speech, which, indeed, the Emperor interrupted more than once in his anxiety to get at the important point of it. “He could not forget,” he said, “the love of Henry VIII. for him, shown at sundry times, nor betray the trust the late King had put in him in asking him to protect his young son. He would never forget the amity that for many years had lasted between England and his House, and he had perpetually tried to preserve this ancient friendship.” Then, raising his voice and speaking more emphatically, he said that friendships that had long been tried and found good should be made much of. Charles was not a man to wear his heart upon his sleeve; and his stolid face and leaden eyes as a rule gave no key to his thoughts; but Moryson says that on this occasion “he did so use his eyes, so move his head and order his countenance, ... as I do surely think he meant the most of what he said. Sure am I that he is too wise not to wish the King’s Majesty surely his.”