But ere he could reach the arrased doorway, Prince Charles sprang to
his side and cried, valiantly: "Nay then, if he goes so do I! 'Twas
surely but a Christmas joke and of my own devising. Spoil not our
revel, my gracious liege and father, on this of all the year's
red-letter days, by turning my thoughtless frolic into such bitter
threatening. I did but seek to test the worth of Master Sandy's lucky
raisin by asking for as wildly great a boon as might be thought upon.
Brother Hal too, did but give me his advising in joke even as I did
seek it. None here, my royal father, would brave your sovereign
displeasure by any unknightly or unloyal scheme."
The gentle and dignified words of the young prince--for Charles Stuart,
though despicable as a king, was ever loving and loyal as a
friend--were as oil upon the troubled waters. The ruffled temper of the
ambassador of Spain--who in after years really did work Raleigh's
downfall and death--gave place to courtly bows, and the King's quick
anger melted away before the dearly loved voice of his favourite son.
"Nay, resume your place, son Hal," he said, "and you, gentlemen all,
resume your seats, I pray. I too did but jest as did Baby Charles
here--a sad young wag, I fear me, is this same young Prince."
But as, after the wassail, came the Christmas mask, in which both
Princes bore their parts, Prince Charles said to Archie Armstrong, the
King's jester:
"Faith, good Archie; now is Master Sandy's snapdragon but a false beast
withal, and his lucky raisin is but an evil fruit that pays not for the
plucking.
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