nvented a
thing so tiresome."

"In truth, Sir, all these things that make virtue are given a man for
his profit, and that he may not go empty-handed into the mart of the
world. He has stuff for barter; he can give honour for pleasure,
morality for money, religion for power."

The King raised his brows and smiled again, but made no remark.
Rochester bowed courteously to me, as he added:

"Is it not as I say, sir?" and awaited my reply.

"It's better still, my lord," I answered. "For he can make these
bargains you speak of, and, by not keeping them, have his basket still
full for another deal."

Again the King smiled as he patted his dog.

"Very just, sir, very just," nodded Rochester. "Thus by breaking a
villainous bargain he is twice a villain, and preserves his reputation
to aid him in the more effectual cheating of his neighbour."

"And the damning of his own soul," said the King softly.

"Your Majesty is Defender of the Faith. I will not meddle with your high
office," said Rochester with a laugh. "For my own part I suffer from a
hurtful sincerity; being known for a rogue by all the town, I am become
the most harmless fellow in your Majesty's dominions. As Mr Dale here
says--I have the honour of being acquainted with your name, sir--my
basket is empty and no man will deal with me."

"There are women left you," said the King.

"It is more expense than profit," sighed the Earl. "Although indeed the
kind creatures will most readily give for nothing what is worth as
much."

"So that the sum of the matter," said the King, "is that he who refuses
no bargain however iniquitous and performs none however binding----"

"Is a king among men, Sir," interposed Rochester with a low bow, "even
as your Majesty is here in Whitehall."

"And by the same title?"

"Ay, the same Right Divine. What think you of my reasoning, Mr Dale?"

"I do not know, my lord, whence you came by it, unless the Devil has
published a tract on the matter."

"Nay, he has but circulated it among his friends," laughed Rochester.
"For he is in no need of money from the booksellers since he has a grant
from God of the customs of the world for his support."

"The King must have the Customs," smiled Charles. "I have them here in
England. But the smugglers cheat me."

"And the penitents him, Sir. Faith, these Holy Churches run queer
cargoes past his officers--or so they say;" and with another bow to the
King, and one of equal courtesy to me, he