Henry
II, king of England, was a man
of reddish, freckled complexion
with a large round head, grey
eyes which glowed fiercely and
became bloodshot in anger, a
fiery expression and a harsh,
cracked voice.
Except
when he was worried or angry
he was a clever speaker and,
what is remarkable for these
days, competent in letters.
He
made friends easily and was
second to none in politeness,
no matter what thoughts he might
keep to himself;
He
was fierce towards those who
remained to challenge him, but
merciful to the defeated, harsh
to his servants, welcoming towards
strangers, generous in public,
thrifty in private. Those whom
he had once hated he never came
to love, but those whom he had
once loved he scarcely ever
called to mind with hatred.
He
was delighted by birds of prey,
especially when in flight, and
by hounds pursuing wild beasts
using their keen sense of smell,
both for their resonant and
harmonious calls and for their
swift running. It was a pity
thet he never paid as much attention
to his prayers as he did to
the chase!
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