time to get upon my legs, and to put myself in the best posture I could with that poor remnant of a weapon. Sir John Ayres by this time likewise was got up, standing betwixt me and some part of Whitehall, with two men on each side of him, and his brother behind him, with at least twenty or thirty persons of his friends, or attendants of the Earl of Suffolk. Observing thus a body of men standing in opposition against me, though to speak truly I saw no swords drawn but by Sir John Ayres and his men, I ran violently against Sir John Ayres; but he, knowing my sword had no point, held his sword and dagger over his head, as believing I could strike rather than thrust, which I no sooner perceived but I put a home thrust to the middle of his breast, that I threw him down with so much force, that his head fell first to the ground, and his heels upwards. His men hereupon assaulted me, when one Mr. Mansel, a Glamorganshire gentleman, finding so many set against me alone, closed with one of them; a Scotch gentleman also closing with another, took him off also; all I could well do to those two which remained, was to ward their thrusts, which I did with that resolution that I got ground upon them. Sir John Ayres was now got up a third time, when I making towards him with an intention to close, thinking that there was otherwise no safety for me, put by a thrust of his with my left hand, and so coming within him received a stab with his dagger on my right side, which ran down my ribs as far as my hip, which I feeling, did with my right elbow force his hand, together with the hilt of the dagger, so near the upper part of my right side, that I made him leave hold. The dagger now sticking in me, Sir Henry Cary, afterwards Lord of Faulkland and LordDeputy of Ireland, finding the dagger thus in my body, snatched it out. This while I, being closed with Sir John Ayres, hurt him on the head, and threw him down a third time; when kneeling on the ground and bestriding him, I struck at him as hard as I could with my piece of a sword, and wounded him in four several places, and did almost cut off his left hand; his two men this while struck at me, but it pleased God even miraculously to defend me; for when I lifted up my sword to strike at Sir John Ayres, I bore off their blows half a dozen times. His friends now finding him in this danger, took him by the head and shoulders, and drew him from betwixt my legs, and carried him along with them through Whitehall, at the stairs whereof he took boat. Sir Herbert Croft (as he told me afterwards) met him upon the water vomiting all the way, which I believe was caused by the violence of the first thrust I gave him. His servants, brother, and friends, being now retired also, I remained master of the place and his weapons; having first wrested his dagger from him, and afterwards struck his sword out of his hand."

Not satisfied with this rencontre, Sir Edward Herbert, as soon as he had fully recovered from his wounds, desired Sir Robert Harley to inform Sir John, that though he thought he had not so much honour left in him, that he could be any way ambitious to get it, yet that he desired to see him in the field

with his sword in his hand. Sir John's reply was highly characteristic" that he would kill Sir Edward with a musket out of a window."

In the year 1614, hearing that the army of the Prince of Orange was about to take the field in the Low-Countries, Sir Edward Herbert offered his services to that general, and received a most gracious welcome. This was his second appearance on this scene, having served with great credit in the year 1610. In the present campaign, he accepted the challenge of a Spanish cavalier, "That if any cavalier in the enemy's army would fight a single combat for the sake of his mistress, the said Spaniard would meet him." This duel was only prevented by the interference of the Spanish general. On leaving the army of the Prince of Orange, Sir Edward proceeded through Switzerland to Italy, where he narrowly escaped the fangs of the inquisition. The Duke of Savoy having offered to him the command of four thousand men, whom he was about to send to Piedmont, he accepted the service, and marched at their head to rejoin his old companions in arms. On this journey, he availed himself of the opportunity of calling at Burgoine, as Sir John Firmet and Sir Richard Newport had informed him, that the host's daughter there was the handsomest woman they had ever seen in their lives. Sir Edward has left us a fine Rubens-like picture of her.

"Waking now about two hours afterwards, I found her sitting by me, attending when I would open mine eyes. I shall touch a little of her description: her hair being of a shining black, was naturally curled in that order that a curious woman would have dressed it, for one curl rising by degrees above another, and every bout tied with a small ribband of a niccarine, or the colour that the Knights of the Bath wear, gave a very graceful mixture, while it was bound up in this manner from the point of her shoulder to the crown of her head; her eyes, which were round and black, seemed to be models of her whole beauty, and in some sort of her air, while a kind of light or flame came from them, not unlike that which the ribband which tied up her hair exhibited; I do not remember ever to have seen a prettier mouth, or whiter teeth; briefly, all her outward parts seemed to become each other, neither was there any thing that could be misliked, unless one should say her complexion was too brown, which yet from the shadow was heightened with a good blood in her cheeks. Her gown was a green Turkey grogram, cut all into panes or slashes, from the shoulder and sleeves unto the foot, and tied up at the distance of about a hand'sbreadth every where with the same ribband with which her hair was bound; so that her attire seemed as bizarre as her person. I am too long in describing an host's daughter, howbeit, I thought I might better speak of her than of divers other beauties, held to be the best and fairest of the time, whom I have often seen. In conclusion, after about

an hour's stay, I departed thence, without offering so much as the least incivility; and, indeed, after so much weariness, it was enough that her sight alone did somewhat refresh me."

A peace being concluded with the Spaniards, Sir Edward Herbert returned to England, and on his arrival in London was seized with a quartan ague, which " brought him at last to be so lean and yellow, that scarce any man did know him." During this sickness, walking one day towards Whitehall, he happened to meet one Emerson, who spoke some words in his presence, reflecting upon his "dear friend Sir Robert Harley.'

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Shaking him therefore by a long beard he wore, I stept a little aside, and drew my sword in the street; Captain Thomas Scriven, a friend of mine, being not far off on one side, and divers friends of his on the other side. All that saw me wondered how I could go, being so weak and consumed as I was, but much more that I would offer to fight; however, Emerson, instead of drawing his sword, ran away into Suffolk-house, and afterwards informed the lords of the council of what I had done; who not long after sending for me, did not so much reprehend my taking part with my friends, as that I would adventure to fight, being in such a bad condition of health."

As soon as he had recovered from this severe illness, Sir Edward was appointed ambassador to France; an unsolicited honour, conferred upon him by the king's especial direction.

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My first commission was to renew the oath of alliance betwixt the two crowns, for which purpose I was extraordinary ambassador: which being done, I was to reside there as ordinary. I had received now about six or seven hundred pounds, towards the charges of my journey, and locked it in certain coffers in my house; when the night following, about one of the clock, I could hear divers men speak and knock at the door, in that part of the house where none did lie but myself, my wife, and her attendants; my servants being lodged in another house not far off: as soon as I heard the noise, I suspected presently they came to rob me of my money; however, I thought fit to rise, and go to the window to know who they were; the first word I heard was, Darest thou come down, Welchman? which I no sooner heard, but, taking a sword in one hand, and a little target in the other, I did in my shirt run down stairs, opened the doors suddenly, and charged ten or twelve of them with that fury, that they ran away. Some throwing away their halberts, others hurting their fellows to make them go faster in a narrow way they were to pass; in which disordered manner I drove them to the middle of the street by the Exchange, where, finding my bare feet hurt by the stones I trod on, I thought fit to return home, and leave them to their flight. My servants hearing the noise, by this time were got up, and demanded whether I would have them pursue those rogues that fled away; but I answering that I thought they were out of their reach, we returned home together."

In the month of March, 1619, he left England "to lie lieger" in France, where he remained until July, 1621. The most conspicuous event in his Memoirs, during this period, is the quarrel with the great constable, Monsieur de Luisnes, which was in fact the cause of his recal. Luisnes was strongly opposed to the protestant interest, and endeavoured by every means in his power to exasperate the young king against his subjects of that religion. The French minister was, of course, exceedingly jealous of the interference of England in favour of the Huguenots, and could ill brook our ambassador's offer to mediate a peace between the monarch and his heretical subjects; nor could the fiery spirit of Sir Edward Herbert, for a moment, suffer his master's name or conduct to be slighted. But a quarrel between a prime-minister and an ambassador deserves to be related at full length.

Being arrived within a small distance of that place, I found by divers circumstances, that the effect of my negociation had been discovered from England, and that I was not welcome thither; howbeit, having obtained an audience from the king, I exposed what I had in charge to say to him, to which yet I received no other answer but that I should go to Monsieur de Luisnes, by whom I should know his majesty's intention. Repairing thus to him, I did find outwardly good reception, though yet I did not know how cunningly he proceeded to betray and frustrate my endeavours for those of the religion; for, hiding a gentleman, called Monsieur Arnaud, behind the hangings in his chamber, who was then of the religion, but had promised a revolt to the king's side, this gentleman, as he himself confessed afterwards to the Earl of Carlisle, had in charge to relate unto those of the religion, how little help they might expect from me, when he should tell them the answers which Monsieur de Luisnes made me. Sitting thus in a chair before Monsieur de Luisnes, he demanded the effect of my business; I answered, that the king, my master, commanded me to mediate a peace betwixt his majesty and his subjects of the religion, and that I desired to do it in all those fair and equal terms, which might stand with the honour of France, and the good intelligence betwixt the two kingdoms: to which he returned this rude answer only, What hath the king, your master, to do with our actions? My reply was, That the king, my master, ought not to give an account of the reason which induced him hereunto, and for me it was enough to obey him; howbeit, if he did ask me in more gentle terms, I should do the best I could to give him satisfaction; to which, though he answered no more than the word bien, or well, I pursuing my instructions, said, that the king, my master, according to the mutual stipulation betwixt Henry the Fourth and himself, that the survivor of either of them should procure the tranquillity and peace of the other's estate, had sent this message; and that he had not only testified this his pious inclination heretofore, in the civil wars of France, but was desirous on this occasion also, to show how much he stood affected to the good of the king

dom; besides, he hoped that when peace was established here, that the French king might be the more easily disposed to assist the Palatine, who was an ancient friend and ally of the French crown. His reply to this was, we will have none of your advices: whereupon I said, that I took those words for an answer, and was sorry only that they did not understand sufficiently the affection and good will of the king my master; and since they rejected it upon those terms, I had in charge to tell him, that we knew very well what we had to do. Luisnes seeming offended herewith, said, nous ne vous craignons pas, or, we are not afraid of you. I replied hereupon, that if you had said you had not loved us, I should have believed you, but should have returned you another answer; in the mean while, that I had no more to say than what I told him formerly, which was, we knew what we had to do. This, though somewhat less than was in my instructions, so angered him, that in much passion he said, Par Dieu, si vous n'êties Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, je vous traiterois d'un autre sorte; by God, if you were not Monsieur Ambassador, I would use you after another fashion. My answer was, that as I was an ambassador, so I was also a gentleman, and therewithal, laying my hand upon the hilt of my sword, told him, there was that which should make him an answer, and so arose from my chair; to which Monsieur de Luisnes made no reply, but, arising likewise from his chair, offered civilly to accompany me to the door; but I telling him there was no occasion for him to use ceremony, after so rude an entertainment, I departed from him."

On the death of the Duke de Luisnes, Sir Edward Herbert was commanded to resume his character of ambassador at Paris, when, in 1624, he published his first work, De Veritate, prout distinguitur à revelatione verisimili, possibili, et à falso. Beyond this period he has not continued his own memoirs, and with the remainder of his life we are therefore but imperfectly acquainted. In 1625 he was created a baron of Ireland, by the title of Lord Herbert, of Castle Island, and, in 1631, was raised to the English peerage, by that of Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, in Shropshire. On the commencement of the civil war, he embraced the party of the crown, but, on further consideration, was induced to abandon his royal politics, and to attach himself to the parliamentarian interests. He died in 1648, in his house, in Great Queen Street, London, and was buried at St. Giles's in the Fields. He was succeeded by his son, Richard, Lord Herbert.

Neither the fatigues of the camp, nor the allurements of the court, could wholly divest the active mind of Lord Herbert from those nobler studies which had formed the delight of his youthful hours. In the intervals of his martial toils, his chivalrous gallantries, and his public engagements, he devoted himself with ardour to the pursuit of literature and philosophy. His first publication, as we have mentioned above, was his treatise De Veritate, a singular work, in which he inculcates the doc