ugh they
would gladly have been at supper on the fair carcases of those within.
Anon comes a mighty magician, with a long beard, and a wand of some ells
in extent, purposing to effect the deliverance of the captives; but the
beasts rushed upon him, and in a trice brought him to the ground. At
this juncture the Silver Knight--showing thereby the superiority of true
valour over false gramarye--should have issued from the bower, rescued
the magician, and slain the beasts, opening a way for the escape of
these imprisoned damsels, who were to come forth dancing, and
representing a fair masque before the king;--but the magician remained
unrescued, while bear and lion lay growling for a long space, not
knowing what else to do. They looked about wistfully, not choosing to
feast on their prostrate victim. At last, finding no change in the
posture of affairs, they fairly stood erect, much to the marvel and
amusement of the spectators, running off on their hind legs amid the
shouts and derision of the assembly.

Sir John, apprehending some mistake, left the king for a moment to see
how matters stood; but Goring had lifted up the arras, and, lo! the
knight with the black visor and mantle of silver was not there, neither
was the Queen of Beauty in her bower. The four disconsolate maidens
still sat waiting for their cue, and expecting release. This was an
unlooked-for disaster. The pageant was at a stand. On inquiry, the
maidens told how that the gallant knight and the peerless queen had
departed before the king's arrival, saying they would return anon.

Sir John was bewildered and alarmed. The Silver Knight was trusty, and
no suspicion crossed him from that source; yet was their absence wholly
unaccountable. The king, seeing some mistake in the unravelling or
conception of the plot, good-naturedly commanded the minstrels to strike
up a favourite tune; at the hearing of which a number of masks
immediately mustered to begin dancing in the soft and dewy twilight.
Amongst the rest came in Buckingham, negligently attired, and without
his visor.

"I thought thee hidden amongst the maskers," said the king.

"Ay, my liege, a short space;--but the night is hot, and I am something
distempered and weary in this turmoil."

Buckingham looked flushed and agitated, strangely differing from his
usual manner. It was not unobserved by the king, who attributed the
change to illness.

"Thou shalt continue about our person," said the monarch. "Ja