es; "painted a frightful picture of her
conduct, and turned all her charms, which he had previously extolled,
into defects." The Duke's warnings were powerless to stop his
vindictive tongue; even a severe thrashing, which resulted in Killigrew
begging abjectly for his life from his successful rival, failed to teach
him prudence. His slanders grew more and more venomous until they
brought on him a punishment which nearly cost him his life.

But before Killigrew's tongue was thus silenced, the wooing of the Duke
and the Countess was marred by a tragedy, to which our history happily
furnishes no parallel. The Countess's husband had hitherto looked on
with seeming indifference, while lover after lover succeeded each other
in his wife's favour. But even the Earl's long forbearance had its
limits; and these were reached when he saw the insolent coxcomb,
Buckingham, a man whom he had always detested, usurp his place. He
screwed up his laggard manhood to the pitch of challenging the Duke to a
duel, which took place one January morning in 1667, and of which Pepys
tells the following story:

"Much discourse of the duel yesterday between the Duke of Buckingham,
Holmes and one Jenkins, on one side, and my Lord Shrewsbury, Sir John
Talbot and one Bernard Howard, on the other side; and all about my Lady
Shrewsbury, who is at this time, and hath for a great while, been a
mistress to the Duke of Buckingham. And so her husband challenged him,
and they met yesterday in a close near Barne-Elmes, and there fought;
and my Lord Shrewsbury is run through the body, from the right breast
through the shoulder; and Sir John Talbot all along up one of his
armes; and Jenkins killed upon the place, and the rest all, in a little
measure, wounded. This will make the world think that the King hath good
Councillors about him, when the Duke of Buckingham, the greatest man
about him, is a fellow of no more sobriety than to fight about a
mistress."

It is said that the Countess, in the guise of a page, accompanied her
lover to the scene of this bloodthirsty duel; held his horse as, with
sparkling eyes, she saw her husband receive his death-blow; and, when
the foul deed was done, flung her arms around the assassin's neck in a
transport of gratitude and affection. Never surely since Judas sent his
Master to his death with a kiss has the world witnessed such an infamous
betrayal.

From the scene of this tragedy the Duke escorted the Countess-page to
his