lips that he had never in his whole life done injury to a single human
being.

In vain did the victims call aloud upon their sovereign, the Emperor
Rudolph. The Spaniards laughed the feeble imperial mandates to scorn,
and spurned the word neutrality. "Oh, poor Roman Empire!" cried John
Fontanus, "how art thou fallen! Thy protector has become thy despoiler,
and, although thy members see this and know it, they sleep through it
all. One day they may have a terrible awakening from their slumbers
. . . . . . . The Admiral of Arragon has entirely changed the
character of the war, recognizes no neutrality, saying that there must be
but one God, one pope, and one king, and that they who object to this
arrangement must be extirpated with fire and sword, let them be where
they may."

The admiral, at least, thoroughly respected the claims of the dead Philip
to universal monarchy.

Maurice gained as much credit by the defensive strategy through which he
saved the republic from the horrors thus aficting its neighbours, as he
had ever done by his most brilliant victories. Queen Elizabeth was
enchanted with the prowess of the prince, and with the sagacious
administration of those republican magistrates whom she never failed to
respect, even when most inclined to quarrel with them. "Never before was
it written or heard of," said the queen, "that so great an extent of
country could be defended with so few troops, that an invasion of so
superior a hostile force could be prevented, especially as it appeared
that all the streams and rivers were frozen." This, she added, was owing
to the wise and far-seeing counsels of the States-General, and to the
faithful diligence of their military commander, who now, as she declared,