lord Shandois?
I pray you, my Lord_, says the Boy, _give me the Figs you promised me;
No_, quoth the Lord, _thou shalt be whipt, if thou come any more to the
Lady Elizabeth or the Lord Courtenay_. The Boy answered, _I will bring
my Lady and Mistress more flowers_, whereupon the Child's Father was
commanded to permit the Boy to come no more up into the chambers. The
next Day, as her Grace was walking in the Garden, the Child peeping in
at a Hole in the Door, cried unto her, _Mistress, I can bring no more
flowers_: Whereat she smiled, but said nothing, understanding thereby
what they had done. Soon after the Chamberlain rebuked highly his
Father, commanding him to put him out of the House; _Alas! poor Infant_,
said the Father: _It is a crafty Knave_, quoth the Lord Chamberlain,
_let me see him here no more_.'

Soon after Queen Mary's marriage, her husband tried hard to persuade her
to release her sister and the Earl, 'and nothing, says _Heylin_, did
King _Philip_ more Honour amongst the _English_.' It is to be remembered
to his good, that he interceded very earnestly, and in the end
successfully, for another Devonshire conspirator in Wyatt's rising, Sir
Peter Carew.

The Earl, fearing that he might, 'upon the first disorder, be committed
to the Tower, to which his Stars seemed to condemn him,' prudently
resolved to go abroad; but he must have been born under a very unlucky
planet, for the next year he was seized with illness, and died at Padua.
With him the title became extinct for about two hundred and fifty years;
then Lord Courtenay, a descendant of the Powderham branch of Courtenays,
established his claim to the earldom. As the attainder of the Marquis of
Exeter was never reversed, that title was never revived in this family.

Among the 'Roxburghe Ballads' is one relating to the Courtenays, called
'The Stout Cripple of Cornwall.' No notes throw any light upon the
possible origin of the story or offer any opinion as to the probability
of the ballad being an account of a true incident, or 'founded on fact,'
or wholly imaginary.

'Of a stout Cripple that kept the highway,
And beg'd for his living all time of the day,
A story I'll tell you that pleasant shall be--
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.

'He crept on his hands and his knees up and downe,
In a torn jacket and ragged patcht gowne;
For he had never a leg to the knee--
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.

'H