rmidable an array?"

"All England, Lord of St. John!"

"Alack! my liege, may you not deceive yourself! But in this crisis it is
right that your leal and trusty subjects should speak out, and plainly.
It seems that these insurgents clamour not against yourself, but against
the queen's relations,--yes, my Lord Rivers, against you and your
House,--and I fear me that the hearts of England are with them here."

"It is true, sire," put in Raoul de Fulke, boldly; "and if these--new
men are to head your armies, the warriors of Towton will stand
aloof,--Raoul de Fulke serves no Woodville's banner. Frown not, Lord de
Scales! it is the griping avarice of you and yours that has brought this
evil on the king. For you the commons have been pillaged; for you the
daughters of peers have been forced into monstrous marriages, at war
with birth and with nature herself; for you, the princely Warwick, near
to the throne in blood, and front and pillar of our time-honoured order
of seigneur and of knight, has been thrust from our suzerain's favour.
And if now ye are to march at the van of war,--you to be avengers of
the strife of which ye are the cause,--I say that the soldiers will lack
heart, and the provinces ye pass through will be the country of a foe!"

"Vain man!" began Anthony Woodville, when Hastings laid his hand on his
arm, while Edward, amazed at this outburst from two of the supporters
on whom he principally counted, had the prudence to suppress his
resentment, and remained silent,--but with the aspect of one resolved to
command obedience, when he once deemed it right to interfere.

"Hold, Sir Anthony!" said Hastings, who, the moment he found himself
with men, woke to all the manly spirit and profound wisdom that had
rendered his name illustrious--"hold, and let me have the word; my Lords
St. John and De Fulke, your charges are more against me than against
these gentlemen, for I am a new man,--a squire by birth, and proud to
derive mine honours from the same origin as all true nobility,--I mean
the grace of a noble liege and the happy fortune of a soldier's sword.
It may be" (and here the artful favourite, the most beloved of the whole
court, inclined himself meekly)--"it may be that I have not borne those
honours so mildly as to disarm blame. In the war to be, let me atone.
My liege, hear your servant: give me no command,--let me be a simple
soldier, fighting by your side. My example who will not follow?--proud
to ride but a