Ah, my child, I have witnessed many queer and droll things in my eventful life, but the scene at Rochester, however, is among my most spicy recollections.

The king was as enthusiastic as a poet, and deep in love as a youth of twenty, and so began our romantic wedding-trip, on which Henry disguised himself and took part in it, assuming the name of my cousin.

As the king's master of horse, I was honored with the commission of carrying to the young queen the greeting of her ardent husband, and begging her to receive the knight, who would deliver to her a present from the king.

She granted my request with a grin which made visible a frightful row of yellow teeth.
I opened the door, and invited the king to enter.

Ah, you ought to have witnessed that scene! It is the only farcical passage in the bloody tragedy of Henry's married life.