a very good will to invade the country, he said, but there were great difficulties in the way.  After a time, the Pope again tried to pry into the matter, and again offered the million which Philip had only accepted for the time when it might be wanted; giving him at the same time, to understand that it was not necessary at that time, because there were then great impediments.  “Thus he is pledged to give me the subsidy, and I am not pledged for the time,” said Philip, “and I keep my secret, which is the most important of all.”

Yet after all, Farnese did not see his way clear towards the consummation of the plan.  His army had wofully dwindled, and before he could seriously set about ulterior matters, it would be necessary to take the city of Sluys.  This was to prove—­as already seen—­a most arduous enterprise.  He complained to Philip’ of his inadequate supplies both in men and money.  The project conceived in the royal breast was worth spending millions for, he said, and although by zeal and devotion he could accomplish something, yet after all he was no more than a man, and without the necessary means the scheme could not succeed.  But Philip, on the contrary, was in the highest possible spirits.  He had collected more money, he declared than had ever been seen before in the world.  He had two million ducats in reserve, besides the Pope’s million; the French were in a most excellent state of division, and the invasion should be made this year without fail.  The fleet would arrive in the English channel by the end of the summer; which would be exactly in conformity with Alexander’s ideas.  The invasion was to be threefold:  from Scotland, under the Scotch earls and their followers, with the money and troops furnished by Philip; from the Netherlands, under Parma; and by the great Spanish armada itself, upon the Isle of Wight.  Alexander must recommend himself to God, in whose cause he was acting, and then do his duty; which lay very plain before him.  If he ever wished to give his sovereign satisfaction in his life; he was to do the deed that year, whatever might betide.  Never could there be so fortunate a conjunction of circumstances again.  France was in a state of revolution, the German levies were weak, the Turk was fully occupied in Persia, an enormous mass of money, over and above the Pope’s million, had been got together, and although the season was somewhat advanced, it was certain that the Duke would conquer all impediments, and be the instrument by which his royal master might render to God that service which he was so anxious to perform.  Enthusiastic, though gouty, Philip grasped the pen in order to scrawl a few words with his own royal hand.  “This business is of such importance,” he said, “and it is so necessary that it should not be delayed, that I cannot refrain from urging it upon you as much as I can.  I should do it even more amply; if this hand would allow me, which has been crippled with gout these several days, and my feet as well, and although it is unattended with pain, yet it is an impediment to writing.”