“Have I not said I care not for my father. It is the maid whose coyness baffles me. Hardly a word or look will she yield to my entreaties. But I have a plot, Lacy, if thou wilt but aid me in it.”
“As your father’s subject I ought not, but as your friend, I know not how to deny you,” answered Lacy.
“Do not forget, my good Ned, that one of these days I shall myself be king. Let me whisper this wise aphorism in thine ear: If thy hair is not beginning to turn gray, it is better to win the prince’s friendship than to sue for the king’s favor. Now let me unfold. I have told thee that the maiden herself will not regard me. In her coldness lies the secret of my slow suit. I will ride straight to Friar Bacon, who lives close by at Oxford. He is a necromancer of wondrous power. Him will I solicit to give me a love charm, or throw over Mistress Margaret a spell, which shall cause her to doat on me. Then farewell to court and courtly wedding, and here among the shades of Suffolk I will woo and wed an English bride, such as all Castile cannot match.”
“But what part have I in this, my lord?” asked Lacy.
“Ah, I forget not that. To-morrow they hold a fair here in Suffolk, which all the coun-
