not to dishonor their drafts.  “Money is the gruel,” said he, “with which we must cure this sick man;” and he therefore prayed all those who wished well to his efforts, to see that his Majesty did not fail him in this important matter.  Notwithstanding, however, the vigor of his efforts, and the earnestness of his intentions, he gave but little hope to his Majesty of any valuable fruit from the pacification just concluded.  He saw the Prince of Orange strengthening himself, “with great fury,” in Holland and Zealand; he knew that the Prince was backed by the Queen of England, who, notwithstanding her promises to Philip and himself, had offered her support to the rebels in case the proposed terms of peace were rejected in Holland, and he felt that “nearly the whole people was at the devotion of the Prince.”

Don John felt more and more convinced, too, that a conspiracy was on foot against his liberty.  There were so many of the one party, and so few of the other, that if he were once fairly “trussed,” he affirmed that not a man among the faithful would dare to budge an inch.  He therefore informed his Majesty that he was secretly meditating a retreat to some place of security; judging very properly that, if he were still his own master, he should be able to exert more influence over those who were still well disposed, than if he should suffer himself to be taken captive.  A suppressed conviction that he could effect nothing, except with his sword, pierced through all his more prudent reflections.  He maintained that, after all, there was no remedy for the body but to cut off the diseased parts at once, and he therefore begged his Majesty for the means of performing the operation handsomely.  The general expressions which he had previously used in favor of broths and mild treatment hardly tallied with the severe amputation thus recommended.  There was, in truth, a constant struggle going on between the fierceness of his inclinations and the shackles which had been imposed upon him.  He already felt entirely out of place, and although he scorned to fly from his post so long as it seemed the post of danger, he was most anxious that the King should grant him his dismissal, so soon as his presence should no longer be imperiously required.  He was sure that the people would never believe in his Majesty’s forgiveness until the man concerning whom they entertained so much suspicion should be removed; for they saw in him only the “thunderbolt of his Majesty’s wrath.”  Orange and England confirmed their suspicions, and sustained their malice.  Should he be compelled, against his will, to remain, he gave warning that he might do something which would be matter of astonishment to everybody.