to you only do I declare that my intention is that this shall never lead to any result, whatever conditions maybe offered by them.  On the contrary, all this is done—­just as they do—­to deceive them, and to cool them in their preparations for defence, by inducing them to believe that such preparations will be unnecessary.  You are well aware that the reverse of all this is the truth, and that on our part there is to be no slackness, but the greatest diligence in our efforts for the invasion of England, for which we have already made the most abundant provision in men, ships, and money, of which you are well aware.”

Is it strange that the Queen of England was deceived?  Is it matter of surprise, censure, or shame, that no English statesman was astute enough or base enough to contend with such diplomacy, which seemed inspired only by the very father of lies?

“Although we thus enter into negotiations,” continued the King—­unveiling himself, with a solemn indecency, not agreeable to contemplate—­“without any intention of concluding them, you can always get out of them with great honour, by taking umbrage about the point of religion and about some other of the outrageous propositions which they are like to propose, and of which there are plenty, in the letters of Andrew de Loo.  Your commissioners must be instructed; to refer all important matters to your personal decision.  The English will be asking for damages for money, spent in assisting my rebels; your commissioners will contend that damages are rather due to me.  Thus, and in other ways, time will be agent.  Your own envoys are not to know the secret any more than the English themselves.  I tell it to you only.  Thus you will proceed with the negotiations, now, yielding on one point, and now insisting on another, but directing all to the same object—­to gain time while proceeding with the preparation for the invasion, according to the plan already agreed upon.”

Certainly the most Catholic King seemed, in this remarkable letter to have outdone himself; and Farnese—­that sincere Farnese, in whose loyal, truth-telling, chivalrous character, the Queen and her counsellors placed such implicit reliance—­could thenceforward no longer be embarrassed as to the course he was to adopt.  To lie daily, through, thick, and thin, and with every variety of circumstance and detail which; a genius fertile in fiction could suggest, such was the simple rule prescribed by his sovereign.  And the rule was implicitly obeyed, and the English sovereign thoroughly deceived.  The secret confided only, to the faithful breast of Alexander was religiously kept.  Even the Pope was outwitted.  His Holiness proposed to, Philip the invasion of England, and offered a million to further the plan.  He was most desirous to be informed if the project was, resolved upon, and, if so, when it was to be accomplished.  The King took the Pope’s million, but refused the desired information.  He answered evasively.  He had