ou only do I declare that my intention is that this shall never lead to
any result, whatever conditions maybe offered by them. On the contrary,
all this is done--just as they do--to deceive them, and to cool them in
their preparations for defence, by inducing them to believe that such
preparations will be unnecessary. You are well aware that the reverse of
all this is the truth, and that on our part there is to be no slackness,
but the greatest diligence in our efforts for the invasion of England,
for which we have already made the most abundant provision in men, ships,
and money, of which you are well aware."

Is it strange that the Queen of England was deceived? Is it matter of
surprise, censure, or shame, that no English statesman was astute enough
or base enough to contend with such diplomacy, which seemed inspired only
by the very father of lies?

"Although we thus enter into negotiations," continued the King--unveiling
himself, with a solemn indecency, not agreeable to contemplate--"without
any intention of concluding them, you can always get out of them with
great honour, by taking umbrage about the point of religion and about
some other of the outrageous propositions which they are like to propose,
and of which there are plenty, in the letters of Andrew de Loo. Your
commissioners must be instructed; to refer all important matters to your
personal decision. The English will be asking for damages for money,
spent in assisting my rebels; your commissioners will contend that
damages are rather due to me. Thus, and in other ways, time will be
agent. Your own envoys are not to know the secret any more than the
English themselves. I tell it to you only. Thus you will proceed with the
negotiations, now, yielding on one point, and now insisting on another,
but directing all to the same object--to gain time while proceeding with
the preparation for the invasion, according to the plan already agreed
upon."

Certainly the most Catholic King seemed, in this remarkable letter to
have outdone himself; and Farnese--that sincere Farnese, in whose loyal,
truth-telling, chivalrous character, the Queen and her counsellors placed
such implicit reliance--could thenceforward no longer be embarrassed as
to the course he was to adopt. To lie daily, through, thick, and thin,
and with every variety of circumstance and detail which; a genius fertile
in fiction could suggest, such was the simple rule prescribed by his
sovereign. And the r