Leave me to build you a bower to which no jealous Queen shall find a clew." Leicester was silent for a moment, then sighed, and said, "It is impossible.

Good night, Sir Richard Varney--yet stay.

Can you guess what meant Tressilian by showing himself in such careless guise before the Queen to-day ?--to strike her tender heart, I should guess, with all the sympathies due to a lover abandoned by his mistress and abandoning himself." Varney, smothering a sneering laugh, answered, "He believed Master Tressilian had no such matter in his head." "How!" said Leicester; "what meanest thou?
There is ever knavery in that laugh of thine, Varney." "I only meant, my lord," said Varney, "that Tressilian has taken the sure way to avoid heart-breaking.

He hath had a companion--a female companion--a mistress--a sort of player's wife or sister, as I believe--with him in Mervyn's Bower, where I quartered him for certain reasons of my own." "A mistress!--meanest thou a paramour ?" "Ay, my lord; what female else waits for hours in a gentleman's chamber ?" "By my faith, time and space fitting, this were a good tale to tell," said Leicester.

"I ever distrusted those bookish, hypocritical, seeming-virtuous scholars.