is council worked upon this
tapestry.

Machiavel. So distinctly!

Regent. No feature is wanting. There are good men among them. The honest
Roderigo, so experienced and so moderate, who does not aim too high, yet
lets nothing sink too low; the upright Alonzo, the diligent Freneda, the
steadfast Las Vargas, and others who join them when the good party are
in power. But there sits the hollow-eyed Toledan, with brazen front and
deep fire-glance, muttering between his teeth about womanish softness,
ill-timed concession, and that women can ride trained steeds, well
enough, but are themselves bad masters of the horse, and the like
pleasantries, which, in former times, I have been compelled to hear from
political gentlemen.

Machiavel. You have chosen good colours for your picture.

Regent. Confess, Machiavel, among the tints from which I might select,
there is no hue so livid, so jaundice-like, as Alva's complexion,
and the colour he is wont to paint with. He regards every one as a
blasphemer or traitor, for under this head they can all be racked,
impaled, quartered, and burnt at pleasure. The good I have accomplished
here appears as nothing seen from a distance, just because it is good.
Then he dwells on every outbreak that is past, recalls every disturbance
that is quieted, and brings before the king such a picture of mutiny,
sedition, and audacity, that we appear to him to be actually devouring
one another, when with us the transient explosion of a rude people has
long been forgotten. Thus he conceives a cordial hatred for the poor
people; he views them with horror, as beasts and monsters; looks around
for fire and sword, and imagines that by such means human beings are
subdued.

Machiavel. You appear to me too vehement; you take the matter too
seriously. Do you not remain Regent?

Regent. I am aware of that. He will bring his instructions. I am old
enough in state affairs to understand how people can be supplanted,
without being actually deprived of office. First, he will produce a
commission, couched in terms somewhat obscure and equivocal; he will
stretch his authority, for the power is in his hands; if I complain,
he will hint at secret instructions; if I desire to see them, he will
answer evasively; if I insist, he will produce a paper of totally
different import; and if this fail to satisfy me, he will go on
precisely as if I had never interfered. Meanwhile he will have
accomplished what I dread, and have frus