"THY sword!" interrupted Tressilian scornfully; "with her Grace's leave, my sword shall show--"
"Peace, you knaves, both!" said the Queen; "know you where you are?--This comes of your feuds, my lords," she added, looking towards Leicester and Sussex; "your followers catch your own humour, and must bandy and brawl in my court and in my very presence, like so many Matamoros.--Look you, sirs, he that speaks of drawing swords in any other quarrel than mine or England's, by mine honour, I'll bracelet him with iron both on wrist and ankle!" She then paused a minute, and resumed in a milder tone, "I must do justice betwixt the bold and mutinous knaves notwithstanding.--My Lord of Leicester, will you warrant with your honour--that is, to the best of your belief--that your servant speaks truth in saying he hath married this Amy Robsart?"
This was a home-thrust, and had nearly staggered Leicester. But he had now gone too far to recede, and answered, after a moment's hesitation, "To the best of my belief--indeed on my certain knowledge--she is a wedded wife."
"Gracious madam," said Tressilian, "may I yet request to know, when and under what circumstances this alleged marriage--"
"Out, sirrah," answered the Queen; "ALLEGED marriage! Have you not the word of this illustrious Earl to warrant the truth of what his servant says? But thou art a loser--thinkest thyself such at least--and thou shalt have indulgence; we will look into the matter ourself more at leisure.--My
