That is Monk, sire, of whom, perhaps, you have never even heard--of whom, perhaps, you did not even know the name, before your brother, Charles II., who knows what he is, pronounced it before you.
He is a marvel of depth and tenacity, the two only things against which intelligence and ardor are blunted.

Sire, I had ardor when I was young; I always was intelligent.

I may safely boast of it, because I am reproached with it.

I have done very well with these two qualities, since, from the son of a fisherman of Piscina, I have become prime minister to the king of France; and in that position your majesty will perhaps acknowledge I have rendered some service to the throne of your majesty.

Well, sire, if I had met with Monk on my way, instead of Monsieur de Beaufort, Monsieur de Retz, or Monsieur le Prince--well, we should have been ruined.