RICHARD Duke of Yorke over­throwne by his owne rash­nesse, and the happie conduct of Queene Margaret, at the battaile of Wakefield: left the justice of his Title, with a more prosperous fortune to his Sonne Edward. His head during life, busied with expectations of Soveraigntie, after death, was mockt with a paper Crowne, and fixt on a pole was set on the walls of Yorke. For the Queene, to make his pretentions to the Kingdome the com­mon scorne, forgot that compassion she owed humaine calamitie; and in a phantasticke cruelty exposed it thus to the barbarous mirth of the be holders. With him dyed his younger sonne [Page 2] Edmond Earle of Rutland, then but twelve yeares old, comming too soone with his tutor to the school [...] of Warre; and learning at first the sharpest lesson from the Lord Clifford, who most inhu­manely [...]tab'd him prostrate at his feete, intreating but for life.

In the very Haven, after a long and tempestuous voyage, thus perisht the Duke of Yorke; as if it had beene in the fate of al the Richards, who were either in fact o [...] title Kings of England, to end by vio­lent deathes. Richard the first and second prece­ding him: His sonne Richard the Tyrant, and Ri­chard Duke of Yorke his Nephew, following him in the like disaster, though severall wayes, and up­on different quarrels.

This great overthrow was suddenly rumor'd through the whole Kingdome; and stretched up to the highest, to advance the reputation of the Queenes felicitie. And soone it arrived at Glocester, where Edward Earle of March lay with some small forces, expecting directions from his Father: By whose death perceiving himselfe in so foule wea­ther to sit alone at the helme, he began more wari­ly to steere his course: and considering how dan­gerous leasure is to increase the apprehension of misfortune, removed to Shrewesbury. By the way his armie swel'd up to three and twenty thousand fighting men: which might appeare strange if we weigh the necessary unexperience of his youth, be­ing then but eighteene yeares of age, and the slen­der retinue that usually weights on infelicitie. But now he was the head of the great body of that fa­ction, which his Father at the expence of so long trouble, had purchased to his side; and them, the Queenes nature implacable to mercy, made reso­lute [Page 3] onely to hope for safety by running into the common danger. Moreover all the men of power who inhabited betweene Glocester and Shrowsbury, had dependancie on him as heire to Mortimer; or held in chiefe of his mighty confederate, the Earle of Warwicke.

With this sudden and unexpected accesse of forces he entertain'd a confidence to be able to re­venge his fathers injurie; and obtaine that great­nesse as yet had beene in vaine attempted. Hee therefore lookt about, where he might on the best advantage make experience of his fortune. For­tune appearing easie to be courted, as if enamord on his youth; having beene seldome observed but froward to age, in any designe that depends chiefely upon courage.

And occasion was immediately offerd: cer­taine discovery being made of a great power raised by the adverse party, with purpose to surprise him in the amazement of the late misfortune. The Armie consisted of Welch and Irish, according to the severall Nations of the two Commanders, Jas­per Earle of Pembrooke, and Jaems Earle of Ormond: Pembrooke halfe brother to Henry the sixt, as sonne to Queene Catherin, dowager to Henry the fif [...], by Owen Teuther: and Ormond a most faithfull servant to the house of Lanchaster, by whose gift in England he enjoyed the Earledome of Wiltshire.

Against these two the Earle of March led backe his Forces, and in a large plaine neere Mortimers crosse on Candlemas day in the morning, gave them battell. Before the fight, the Sunne (as by many Authors it is averd) appeared to the Earle in the resemblance of three Sunnes, and suddenly united into one: the truth of which I will not dispute, [Page 4] But certainely the pretension of such apparitions strangely prevailes with the superstitious multi­tude, and hath beene both the practise and advan­tage of the most expert Commanders. Yet how this omen could bee expounded happie to his de signe, I understand not, unlesse we seeke the inter­pretation from the event: for that indeed gave him the victory, and brought the glory of the two ad­verse Generalls over to his side; so that the three Sunnes which with equall brightnesse appeared in the morning, before evening shin'd alone in him, For the two Earles and the whole Armie were put to flight, with the slaughter of three thousand eight hundred on the place: many Welch, and some English of name were taken prisoners, and afterward at Hereford beheaded: among whom an extraordinary fortune hath made Owen Teuther most the discourse of Posterity. For the good luck of an amiable person, wrought him into the affe­ction and soone after advanced him to the marri­age of Catherin daughter of France, and Widdow to the most glorious Prince our Nation ever gain'd honour by. Yet all that this so envied splendor in a wife got him, was, to render his life obnoxious to imprisonment and faction, and his death more eminention a scaffold.

This victory raysed Edwards imaginations high; so that now he resolved to spend his fortune no longer on small enterprises, And least the spi­rit of his Armie should begin to languish, having no enemie neere to finde him in imployment; he resolved to search for one about London: whether he had intelligence the Queene with her trium­phant forces directed her march: moreover it concerned the pollicie of his affaires, to retaine [Page 5] the possession of the capitall Cittie of the King­dome, which continued firme to his devotion; and in which the Lords of his faction had custo­die of King Henries person, left to their faith, when the Duke of Yorke went his last fatall expedi­tion.

But in the way at Chipping Norton he met the Earle of Warwicke, having lately fought and lost the field to the Queene at S^t. Albans. In which, beside the honour of the day and slaughter of two thousand of her enemies, she recovered the person of her husband. So that Warwicke brought with him onely a relation of his late overthrow; but with such a courage as disdain'd misfortune, and cove­ted nothing more than by the tryall of a new day to perswade, or else to force backe victory to his side.

And oftentimes a small losse to an Armie like opening a veine to a body, doth rather correct than any way impaire the health: whereas too much prosperity, like the worst surfet, suddenly becomes incureable. And so the two late obtain'd conquests wrought in the enemie, onely insolen­cie and disorder. For the Queene, wanton with successe, vainely imagined a securitie from future competition: and either wanted power to re­straine her souldiers, or licenced them to a free spoyle: by which unruly violence she untyed the affection of the Commons, who by their quiet and profit, measure the vertues of Princes And indeede they had title to their often complaints against the Northerne troopes; who soone as they had past Trent, as if there they had parted with all obedience to discipline, made use of all kindes of licence, that might serve their avarice or pleasure. [Page 6] And having by the way left no Townes, and in them no place, how Sacred soever unspoyled: af­ter the flight of Warwicke they designed for London, hoping to finde it abundantly stored for prey, and utterly unable for defence.

But the Citizens perceiving hostility in their approach, shut their gates and arm'd for resi­stance: And with such valour and good order behaved themselves, that the rude assailants were with losse repulst, and the Queene perswaded to retire North-ward, knowing the disorder of her men had begot her in the place where she then lay incamped, nothing but ill aspects and worse wishes: she therefore dislodged from S^t. Albans; and every day as she marcht toward the North, new relations came of the greatnesse and resoluti­on of the Earle of Marches power; who with the Earle of Warwicke was on his journey to Lon­don.

And doubtlesse the report of his approach con­firmed the Cittie in her courage to resist the late assault: which otherwise would without questi­on have complied with the fortune of the more powerfull. For presently after the departure of the Queene, the Earle of March made his triumphant entry, and was received with such acclamations; as an over-joyed people could expresse, who one­ly hoped for safety by the fortune of his side. To encrease the glory of this entrie concurd, beside his title to the Crowne, his late victory at Morti­mers Crosse, the memory of a most glorious Fa­ther, and great authority of his Confederate War­wicke; the beauty of Marches person, than which that age beheld not any more excellent. Neither is the outward forme a small circumstance to in­duce [Page 7] the multitude or reverence; since as defor­mitie in a Prince, hath oftentimes occasioned con­tempt even to deprivation: so on the contrary hath an amiable shape strengthend very weake pretentions, and in Antoninus Heliogabalus was sufficient title to an Empire, even in a military election.

But the Earle of Warwicke, (whose minde was still in labour, and felt continually most violent throwes; till it had brought forth a setled sove­raignety to the house of Yorke) contented not him­selfe with this generall applause; knowing how the least change of Fortune would create new affections. He therefore resolved so to fasten the Citty to his designes, that any alteration in Ed­ward should be ruine to them: and thereupon caused a generall muster of all his forces in S^t. Johns fields: where when hee found an universall con­fluence of all men, answerable to his expectation; he cast his Armie into a Ring; and with a loude voyce, made to be reade, the agreement which the last Parliament had accorded betweene Henry the sixt, and Richard Duke of Yorke. By which Henry (out of compassion to a long possession) was per­mitted to enjoy the Crowne during his naturall life, the remainder to Richard and his heires, in whom it was then apparently proved that the title to the Kingdome did remaine. In which agree­ment was likewise manifested that Henry should make immediate forfeiture, when soever either hee or any of his party should attempt to disa [...]all this Act. This reade, and commented on with the best efficacie of Language, to expresse the foule breach on King Henries side, in the destruction of Richard Duke of Yorke: Question ws proposed [Page 8] to them, whether they would longer continue in obedience to Henries usurpation, who so impiou­sly had violated his Faith? To which with an uni­versall loude consent of voyces they cryed out, No, No. Then were they demanded, whether they would admit Edward; whose title to the Crowne was so apparent, and whose sufferance had beene so great in a perfidious violent entry, and a long injurious possession of the Kingdome by the family of Lancaster? To which with ac­clamations of assent was answered Yea, Yea.

Thus by the Souldier and the people was Ed­wards title approved, and he admitted King. And happily did this ceremony then appeare needfull; in regard the same voyces had vowed obedience to another. Otherwise whosoever shall alleage that the suffrage of the multitude is necessary to confirme a Prince, destroyes the right of succession, and in that the Monarchie, which so long and tri­umphantly hath ruled this Nation. And to un­derstand the incertainety and injustice of all popu­lar election, History instructs us that no Tyrant yet in England by what indirect practise soever he attaind, or cruelty maintaind the government; but entred in by a seeming approbation of the Com­mon-wealth, and setled his state by confirmation of the People. For I know not by what uni­versall distemper of humors it happens, that gene­rally when the head of this Kingdome hath beene sicke, the whole body was diseased: so farre, that usurpation hath beene ligitimated, and tyrannie applauded. Which misfortune must have necessa­rily beene occasioned through Potencie of the pre­vailing faction; and feare which possest all honest mindes: who though they neither wanted know­ledge [Page 9] to see the injury, nor desire to redresse it; yet private interest made them too cowardly to un­dertake the remedy.

But in Edwards first in trance on the Kingdome the popular suffrage (which in the inauguration of Christian Princes is of ancient custome estee­med a convenient ceremonie) met with a just ti­tle. For he by his Grandmother, daughter and heire of Mortuner sonne and heire to Philippa, one­ly childe of Lionell Duke of Clarence; third sonne to Edward the third King of England: of necessity must have (where women are admitted to inherit) better claime to the Crowne than Henry the sixt: though in the fourth descent from Edward the third by John of Gaunt, being but his fourth sonne. For however Casuists may dispute, or civill Lawyers argue. The being removed one degree further, can no way prejudice succession: Where­by the younger brother may come to bee prefer'd before the elder brothers sonne, if by chance the elder dye during his Fathers life. An injustice so against reason and custome, that whosoever yet attempted it, was reputed to violate the lawes of Nature.

From S^t. Johns fields, the principall of the ar­mie, and Common Councell of the Cittie, brought newes of this Election to Edward Earle of March remaining at Baynards Castle. Who soone as he understood the intention of their addresse (with such modestie as some Clergie man may have used at his consecration; who by simonaicall practise hath obtaind a Bishoprick) refused that a while, which most ambitiously he covered. But soone the animation of the Arch-bishop of Can­terbury, the Earle of Warwicke, the Bishops of [Page 10] London and Exeter, and divers others of eminence prevail'd, and he at their request tooke on him the Royaltie.

That night he rested, the next morning with as much ceremonie and state, as the shortnesse and unquietnesse of the time could licence, in solemne procession he went to Paules; whence af­ter Te Deum sung, and oblation made, hee rod to Westminster: there seated in the most perspicuous place of the great Hall, with the Scepter of S^t. Ed­ward the Confessor in his hand, himselfe made de­claration of his double title to the Crowne First, by descent, as heire to the third sonne of Edward the third; the Line of whose eldest sonne Edward the blacke Prince extinguisht in the deposition and par [...]icide of Richard the second procured by Henry of Bullingbrooke, first King of the house of Lancaster, Edward the thirds second sonne dying without issue. Secondly, by authority of Parla­ment, which upon examination of the Duke of Yorkes title, confer'd the possession of the King­dome immediately on him or his heires, when Henry the sixth should make forfeiture of it, by death, resignation, or breach of that Accord sworne there so solemnely by them. And that this accord was broken, the slaughter of the Duke op­prest with unequall numbers on King Henries par­tie at the battell of Wakefield, did sadly manifest. Neverthelesse he protested himselfe ready to for­goe the justice of his claime, ratherthan to enter upon it without their free vote.

At which unanimously the Assembly cryed King Edward, King Edward: Ioyfull that their voy­ces might confirme him King, who had daign'd them so humble a complement, as to professe that he [Page 11] would not receive the title without their suffrage. The formalitie of this second Election thus past, he went in Procession to the Abbie: whence af­ter much solemnitie and homage of all the Nobi­lity there present; he returned by water to the Bishop of Londons Pallace, and was immediately proclaimed King, throughout the City by the name of Edward the Fourth.

The first fortnight of his Raigne was died, I will not say stain'd, with the blood of Walter Wal­ker a Grocer, who keeping shop at the signe of the Crowne in Cheapeside, sayd he would make his sonne heire to the Crowne: a bold jest broke in an evill time: yet doe I not side with them in opi­nion, who taxe the King of severity in this execution; unlesse I could cleere this man from being particularly factious for the house of Lancaster; or know that these words were uttered in innocent mirth, without any scorne to King Edwards Title. And however perhaps the extraor­dinary punishment of such saucie language, was not then unnecessary to beget authority, and make men cautious to dispute the descent of Prin­ces, when the question was so nice, and argu­ments not improbable on either side.

But here in her very first curtesie, Fortune raisd King Edward higher than the endeavours of a long ambition had done his Father. For now was he consecrated King, in the Imperiall City of this Realme, adornd with every circumstance of Soveraigntie: and all his enterpises hitherto so flattered with successe, that he could promise nothing but prosperity to his hopes. Yet was the ground whereon he built uncertaine; and his state, brought into comparison with his Com­petitor, [Page 12] fraile and obnoxious to ruine.

For Henry had equall dignity with the advantage of a long Raigne: an uninterrupted descent in Majestie for threescore yeares; a soveraigntie ac­knowledg'd abroad by all Christian Princes, and obeyd at home by all Engilshmen without dis­pute: a title according to the Law Salique indubi­table; and which had beene confirmed at the first entry of his Grandfather Henry the fourth into the Kingdome, not onely by resignation of Richard the second; by generall acknowledgement of all the Nobilitie, and by authority of Parliament: but even by approbation, nay particular negotia­tion of Edmond Duke of Yorke, Edward Duke of Aumerle; Richard Earle of Cambridge, Grandfather, Great Vncle, and Great Grandfather to the late anointed King, Edward the Fourth. Onely a fee­ble judgement, and a long evill fortune rendred Henry the sixt inferiour: to counterpoise which Queene Margaret and the Lords of her side were daring and vigilant, omitting on stratagem or en­deavor that might adde to the honour, or safety of their designes.

Whereupon slie continued still in the North, and oblieging that people every day more to her devotion, labourd to prepare such an armie, as might upon the worst of fortune, be able enough for defence. And soone she found how much her owne and the authoritie of the great Lords of her side prevail'd: having rais'd threescore thousand fighting men, and they all resolv'd with expence of their blood to buy backe that Majestie, which the house of Lancaster by evill fate had lost. An armie if arm'd and order'd well, able to oppose the mightiest enemie, or undertake the boldest [Page 13] enterprise. On sight of which the Queene enter­tain'd a confidence easily to scatter the Forces of the new Mushrome King, who in a night seem'd to have sprung up to Majestie. Especially when she understood how with unequall power hee marcht Northward, A clime not unlikely to prove as distastrous to him, as to his Father.

For King Edward, soone as the voyce of the peo­ple had saluted him Prince, resolv'd with hazard of his new gain'd Soveraigntie, to extirpate his great opposer. For while the side of Lancaster was supported with the devotion of so large a portion of the Kingdome, as yet adhear'd to Henry; he could be King, but at the curtesie of his Faction: and the body of the Land must of necessitie grow mon­strous, being charg'd with two heads, each of w^ch look'd divers wayes. He therefore while his men had yet the memorie of their late good fortune; fresh in their courage, marcht toward the Queene, and chose rather, as worthier his spirit, to provoke than expect an enemie.

Of his arrivall at Pomfret Castle when it was understood, and that part of his armie led by the Lord Fitzwalter had possest it selfe of Ferribrig, a passage over the River Aire of great import: All they of Lancaster began carefully to looke to their affaires. King Henry, the Queene, and Prince (who were by their severall weakenesses unfit for action) retired to Yorke, there to attend the event of businesses. The Armie being commit­ted to the charge of the Duke of Sommerset, the Earle of Northumberland, and the Lord Clifford.

Among these it was resolv'd that Ferribrig, in re­gard of the consequence of the place, was at any hazard to be recovered; and the enterprise left to [Page 14] the undertaking of Clifford: who early the next morning, least delay might betray his designe to the enemie, with a competent number made thi­ther: and with such diligence and [...]ecrecie hee Marcht, that before there was the least suspition of an assault, the uncircumspect guard was entred upon and defeated. With which tum [...]lt the Lord Fitzwalter, and the Bastard of Salisbury; suspecting a mutanie among their owne Souldiers, role hasti­ly from their beds, and comming downe en­counterd a remorselesse enemie, who denyed all quarter, and on the place slew them.

The losse of this so cōmodious passage & slaugh­ter of such eminent persons came first to the eare of the Earle of Warwicke: who somewhat too much transported with the evill fate of their first attempt posted in all haste to King Edward: in whose presence he kil'd his horse, and sayd. Sir God have mercy on their soules, who for love of you in the beginning of your enterprise, have lost their lives; yet let him flye who will flye: by this crosse (kissing the hilts of his sword) I will stand by him, who will stand by me, fall backe, fall edge.

Wordt certainely, though mingled with a high resolution, strangely distemperd: and represen­ting so much of danger, as might have troubled the courage of the Armie. And howsoever par­tiall history in mentioning the actions of great men, will not allow them to participate with the vulgar in the weakenesses incident to humane na­ture, yet every greatest Spirit hath his allay of im­becillitie. The most knowing Scholler hath found a period, beyond which his curious search could not move: the wisest Politician hath discovered where he err'd, and blusht at the mistake: and the [Page 15] boldest souldier at some time hath soon [...] the Co­ward tremble in him. We may b [...]i [...]ht end [...]v [...]rs raise nature somewhat above her [...]r [...]ilti [...]: but ne­ver triumph: over her till death.

And certainely Warwicke was too much [...] at this accident: but soone he setled [...]selfe, and by his stout compo [...]ment [...]fied th [...]s [...]ain­ting armie. But King Edward, whose youth was beau [...]ified with valour and wisdome, eve [...] to wonder, [...]o b [...]tly entertaind this sad reporti [...] and to oppose against any feare, which might shake the Souldier; caus'd immediate Proclamati do [...] to be made; That it was lawfull for any man whom the present losse, or feare of [...]in [...]e danger dis­couragd, safely to depart: that whosoever should performe the dutie of a Souldier and fight manful­ly, should have a certaine and a most large re­ward: On the contrary to any man [...] who should continue in the Armie, and hereafter flye away; the severest punishment, and liberty for any one to kill such a coward, with promise of double pay.

No man accepted the offer of so contem'd a safety: and indeede the body of his Armie con­sisted of Southerne men, whose [...]light had per­haps beene as unsafe as the present danger. More­over the example of the valiant perswaded the rest, who blusht [...]o appeare single [...] their feares: whereby not being knowne they grew afterward to have equall title, with the most daring to a glo­rious victory.

The King seeing the Spirit of his Armie; so bold, and so devoted to his service; thought the losse of time might endanger the losse of his designe: and thereupon resolv'd with that first convenience to [Page 16] bring his Fortune to the tryall of a battell. The Lord Fauconbrige and Sir Walter [...], in regard the Duke of Norfolke was then disabled by sick­nesse, had the leading of the va [...]tguard▪ who finding the passage of Forribrig [...]mpossible on the su [...]n [...]o [...]taine, three miles by hand, at [...]stl [...] f [...]d pa [...] [...] P [...] [...]d sonne af [...] about [...]ding [...] [...] d [...]cove [...] the Lord Cliff [...]d, whom. they sud­denly [...]ye [...] and [...]compast; in vaine [...]boring to retir [...] to the maine battell. But hee perceiving no way to lead from his Enemies but through death [...] with [...]i [...] small Forces even to the envie of them who overc [...]me, till shot with an a [...]ow through the [...]o [...]te he perisht. The Lord John N [...] So [...] in the Earle of West [...]land with al­ [...] shall th [...]se [...] forth h [...] troopes fell there with thei [...] la [...]d [...] the Lord Cliff [...]rd, Who in too milde [...] manner payd the [...] the great debt hee owed, the murder [...] the young Earle of R [...]t [...]a [...]d.

Next day being [...]alme Sunday, early in the mor­ [...] both Armies came in sight: A fatall mee­ting, which like the union of the soule with the body, [...]ver pa [...] [...] by death. The field was be­tweene Caxton and T [...]t [...]n, from the latter of: which thi [...] battell afterward tooke name. On full Survey of King H [...]nc [...]s host so dreadfull in advantage of [...]be [...]: Reclamation was▪ made in King Ed­ward [...]pe [...] [...] quarter should be given nor prisoner taken▪ A [...]cessary cruelty not to be avoy­ [...] but with danger of his owne ruine: In regard otherwise the common Souldier might in hope of [...]yle of the ransome of an enemie, bee wan­ting to his duty.

It was about the houre of nine, when the Ar­mies drew neere: threescore thousand for Lanca­ster, [Page 17] for Yorke scarce forty thousand: onely the pre­sence and courage of King Edward made an equa­lity. The Lord Eauconbrige to whom the Van was committed, and who was most able for the place, when the fight was ready to begin, charg'd his Archers, soone as they had shot, to fall three strides backe and make a stand▪ whereby they might avoyd the arrowes of the Enemie: which stratagem happen'd as was expected; for the Nor­therne men with a sudden fury answered the on set, and having emptied their quivers hasted to hand blowes: But the Arrowes which they had discharged, having never reacht them against whom they were shot, turnd novv to their annoi­ance and trouble, so far that the splinters of them sticking in the ground p [...]irst and gauld their feet, and forc'd them to a confus'd stop. In this trou­ble the Southerne men shot another flight, and the vvind conspiring vvith their cunning blevv a tempest of haile and snovv into their faces: by vvhich the Vantguard of King Henry led by the Earle of Northumberland and Andrew Trollop gave backe.

Yet did not the maine battell tremble vvith this motion: but as if the enemie had gain'd no advan­tage, continued vvith, the first constancie. Ten houres victory hung in suspence: equall courage on both sides; equall hopes in the good, equall de­spai [...]es in the bad successe▪ vv^ch occasion'd so much cruelty in the fight. But at length (the field staind vvith blood, and the earth groaning vvith the bur­den of so many heapes of dead and dying bodies) the Northerne men began to hope for safety onely in flight▪ Neither did they [...]eeld to the prevailing Fortune of the Enemie, untill their courages vvere [Page 18] dismayd vvith sight of so many eminent persons slaine before their eyes. For the Earles of Nor­thumberland and Westmerland, the Lords Beau­mont D'acres, Gray and Wells with divers others of greatest reputation for Nobility and courage had already falne; and in their slaughter taught the survivers what to expect. The Dukes of Sommerset and Exeter, seeing all things desperate; the greater part of the Armie slaine, the rest broken and fly­ing: poasted to Yorke, to carry the fatall newes of this overthrow to the unfortunate King: whose vertue yet had a patience greater than his ruine.

In no battle was ever powred forth so much English Blood: for in this and the two precedent dayes were slaine, sixe and thirty thousand, seven hundred seventy sixe persons: all of one nation, many neere in alliance, some in Blood; fatally divided by faction: yet all animated with the same zeale to maintaine their Princes right▪ which being so difficult to resolve, doubtlesse made the quarrell on either side, how ruinous soever to their famelies; not unsafe to their Consciences. And it is worthy observation, that in this so long and cruell conflict betweene the two houses; never any stranger of name was present at our battels: as if we had disdaind to conquer or perish by other weapons than our owne.

Kind Henry perceiving how desperate his hopes were in England, with the poore remaines of his partie, secured himselfe by flight into Scotland: And with such hast, that before King Edward got to Yorke (where he hoped to have surpris'd him dis­maid with the late discomsiture) nothing was there left but the Citie humbly devoted to the [Page 19] dispose of the Conqueror. But on the walls yet remaind the heads of Richard Duke of Yorke and his friends; an ignominious spectacle, unluckily there standing to in [...]ence him to cruelty. For on sight of so barbarous an injurie▪ he gave present command that Thomas Earle of De [...]a [...]i [...] should be beheaded with three others taken in the for­mer battle: that these new heads might r [...]leeve them who had stood centinell so long; and that his father and friends might not want that busie part of the body to be inclosed with them in the grave. An action too much savouring of the an­cient Heathen: the soules of Christians no way requiring their murders to be revengd, or their injuries appear'd with such an offering.

After this dire oblation, he sent part of his For­ces to cleere the coast toward Scotland, from the dregges of warre: where to terrifie that people prone to innovation in King Henries quarrell, some examples of severitie were made. In the inte­rime he with as glorious triumph and large joy as victory could beget, which begot no lesse to him than absolute Soveraignety, marcht toward Lon­don. By the inhabitants whereof, who were deepe­ly interessed in his Fortune, he was with all the so­lemnity of a secure gladnesse entertaind. To the triumph of his entrance, soone succeeded that of his Coronation, perform'd with usuall ceremo­nies, but most unusuall congratulations.

Immediately, that no circumstance of Sove­raintie might be wanting, a Parlament was Sum­mond: By which his title might be reconfirm'd▪ his partakers rewarded, his enemies punisht. And though private respects were his chiefe busi­nesse, desiring to disa [...]ll all acts made hereto­fore [Page 20] in prejudice to the house of Yorke and its ad­herents: yet the outward pretention was the safety and quiet of the Realme. For he publick­ly profest his onely care to bee, that such whole­some lawes might be enacted; as might redresse disorders crept into the state, by free licence given to rapin in the former troubles. By which appa­rence of solicitude for quieting the republique, he gain'd authority among the wise, and created a beleefe in all, that his government in peace vvould be as fortunate, as his successe in warre. Having by his wisedome and providence thus won opinion upon the generality▪ he bestowed his graces on particular persons, whom blood in merit rendred deare to him. His brothers George and Richard he created Dukes, the elder of Cla­rence, the younger of Glocester. Iohn Lord Nevill the Earle of Warwickes brother, he made Vicount Mountague, Henry Bourchier brother to the Archbi­shop of Canterbury, Earle of Essex: and William Lord Fauconbrige Earle of Kent. He erected divers others to the Title of Barons, and honour'd ma­ny with Knighthood. The conclusion of this great assembly was punishment: for John Earle of Oxford, Aubery Vere his sonne, Sir John Tiddenham Knight, William Tirrell and Walter Mountgomery Es­quires, were without an [...]were convict of [...] reason and behended. A rough proceeding which favord something too much of the Conqueror.

B [...]sinesses thus happily setled at home, to check the [...]udaciousnesse of our transmarin neighbours (who had throwrie injuries on our Nation weak­ned by discord) the Earles of Esse [...] and Kent with the Lord Audley were sent with ten thousand soul­diers to scowre the narrow Seas: who first lan­ding [Page 21] in Britaine tooke the Towne of Conquest: and afterward in the Isl [...] of R [...], pill [...]g'd that little Country, and with victory returned. By vvhich en [...]erprise, though of n [...] signall consequence to his affaires, yet King Edward gave the French to understand ho [...] unfa [...] it vvas to [...]tate the En­glish govern'd by [...] active Prince [...] vvho might perhaps [...] in person app [...]e abroade, for the recovery of [...]ose Provinces, nothing but [...] diss [...]sion [...]ould have los [...]o As likevvise to t [...]rifie all [...] states from adhering to King Henry, vvho both in c [...]rage and fortune vvas [...]o [...]a [...]e in­ferio [...].

And no [...] vvas the prosperitie of Edward [...]n so full splendor, and so darke a cloud hung over the house of Lancaster that Henry Duke of Somm [...]rset and Sir Ralph Percie for [...]e the [...]ine [...] of that fa­mily, they had [...] long endeavour'd to support. To King Edward the submission of tvvo so eminent persons appear'd vvelcome as a victory and they by his favour were presently restored to full possession both of honour and [...]tar [...]: the same grace promist to any, who migh [...] example should perswade.

Yet did not the indefatigable Queene loose any thing from her sprit on endeavours: H [...]qlate so sad discomfiture, and revolt now of her chiefe ad­herents, able perhaps to [...] for [...], not her. And having upon full reckoning, perceived that she must account of no powre at home, she made her addresses to all Princes abroad, whom allianee, reason of state, or compassion of so great a disaster, might move to her assistance. But, as it is in the fate of all women who usurpe on their husbands, she had beene [...]o happie in mannage of [Page 22] his prosperitie and Tow [...] w [...]somuch mor [...] [...]ca­pable to [...]gole against christ for [...] and [...] in felicity [...] G [...] undertakings being [...] [...] suc­cesfull in [...], whose government [...], as [...] [...] it is [...], [...] [...] [...] selfe in [...] [...] beene disorderly and [...] But certainely how erronious hovvever [...] [...] she [...] now defective onely in th [...] [...], [...] is not ruled by ours, but by a high [...].

For wi [...] the King of Scotland (with [...] is in the neerest place of safety, she l [...]er h [...]nd) to confirme a secure friendship, she contracted a neere alliance: by promising the young. Prince her sonne in marriage to his lister. And that this marriage might not seeme a gift but a bargaine; shee [...]ght the (Lady by [...] of Barwicke into the Scot [...] [...]ands; [...] strongest Fort [...] Eng­lish [...] in the North. But the [...] [...] e­ver [...]er son their [...] and for [...] to [...]op [...]gha [...]e what otherwise they would with [...] [...] per­swaded to receive.

With Lewes the Eleventh the French King, she prevail'd little, though neere to him [...] confangui­nity: for the discontent of his Nobility, held him incontinuall suspition. Otherwise she had ti­tle to promise her selfe large supplies from so po­tent and politicke a Prince, whose interest it must no reas [...] have beene, by fomenting discord at home, to hinder us from any attempt abroad. After [...]uch [...], she obtain'd that he de­clared himselfe [...] King Henry: By prohibiting all favorers of the house of Yorke accesse into the French dominions; and opening them to all those of the party of Lancaster. A negative kinde of helpe, which rather showed there yet was Sanctu­ary [Page 23] left for Henries unhappie friends, than any con­siderable ayde to be expected.

Phillip Duke of Burgundie, though a mighty Prince, and neere allyed to Lancaster (whose wives mother was Philippa, daughter to John of Gaunt) by age, and a passionate love to quiet, was become altogether unactive. Neither had Charles Earle of Charolois, his sonne, though of a daring Spirit and an affecter of businesse, leisure to looke over into our Island: being engaged to domestick troubles, and suspitious of the designes of the French King.

With Charolois, the Duke of Britaine held a strong confederacie: and both of them intelli­gence with the discontented Lords of France. The warre which was afterward so knowne by the name of the Weale-Publique being at that time among them privately in contrivance: so that all these neighboring Princes, to whom the affaires of England might seeme considerable, were wholly taken up with attention to their owne.

The Emperor Frederick the third was more re­mote: and so cautious from entring into the quar­rels of other men; that by any Art & even with losse he would decline his owne. Moreover he justly stood in continuall feare of the growing Fortune of the Turke: who having lately subverted the Easterne, threatned now ruine to the Westerne Empire: and questionlesse had not the great God of Armies miraculously given a stop to his victo­ries; Christendome had now beene onely severall Provinces slaved to his tyrannie. For pride and emulation had then turn'd our Armes upon our selves, and left our bodies naked to the scourge [Page 24] of the common enemie.

Spaine was far off, divided betweene a Christian and Mahometan government, each labouring the extirpation of the other, so that they had liberty to be Actors in no Tragoedie but their owne. And indeede no conflict is so fierce and irreconciliable; as when Religion animates to warre, and makes it pietie to be cruell.

To her Father therefore, who enjoyed the spe­cious title of King of Sicily, Naples, and Hierusa­lem, but possession of none of them, the afflicted Queene was forc't to make a sad retreate. A poore contemptible Lord, living now to see his sonne in Law, once the greatest Monarch of the Christian world, a Prince as meerely titular as himselfe. As if it had beene the Fate of these two, that the one could say, he might have beene, the other that once he was a King.

Leaving therefore forraigne states intentive to their owne designes: with her sonne, whom to move compassion she had carried up and downe: the Queene return'd to Scotland: by her long but unsuccesfull labour, having gathered together five hundred French: a number so small and so unworthy the name of an Armie, that it was but a competent retinue for so great a Princesse. With these neverthelesse she sayld to Timmouth, whence she was repulst by the inhabitants soone as shee landed; and forc't againe to put to Sea. But there (for where may the unfortunate meete with friendship?) she found the winds her enemies, whose unruly force drave her at length disorderly to Barwicke.

Heere some thinne regiments of Scots resorted to her; in company of whom she entred Northum­berland: [Page 25] her husband [...] in the Fro [...], that the name and presence of King [...] [...] in­vite the people to their ancient service; and [...] Authority to the designe [...] B [...] soone th [...]e [...] her error; for hope, not compassion [...] [...] danger▪ and the Commonalty fate still, [...] by rising they understood themselves onely [...] to sha [...] in the Kings misfortune. For having upon a just a [...]c [...]ou [...] discoverd how war [...] i [...] o [...]ely ne­cessary to the most desperate, and that in the [...] it leaves them to nothing but b [...]gg [...]ry and [...]sh­ment they were [...] [...] the love of [...] and every man betook [...] himselfe to industry▪ And for the Nobility▪ the King had [...]on the [...] [...]th [...]t by the reputation of his fortune▪ or te [...]r [...] of his courage; so that [...]m [...]ma [...] [...]o [...] to change subjection. Onely H [...]y Duke of Som­merset, and Sir Ralph Percie, who [...]ot long before had forsooke King H [...]n [...]y in his tempest, no [...] upon a false hope of fairer weather: st [...] [...] [...] [...]. For it is a ridiculous [...]ing in Historians to as­cribe the action of great men [...]r [...]etually to pol­licie; since i [...]resolution prevailes equally [...] them as with the vulgar. And why might [...] despera­tion be g [...]t submission in these [...] bo [...]ing Ed­ward; and a vaine apparence of a re [...]ur [...]e of for­tune to King Henti [...]s [...], [...] [...] to this lastrevolt.

Vpon this so weake [...] [...] [...] [...] Margaret, perceiving [...] friendship [...] husbands native Country, destroy'd it as if an enemie's▪ And [...]anting forc [...] to r [...]ach the pro­speritie of her Competitor, [...]ll [...]elly [...] the Common people, [...] [...]itherto beene onely subject to his Fortune▪ b [...]a [...]ing i [...]wa [...]dly a [...] [Page 26] passionate love to the famely of Lancaster. But this o [...]rageous carriage of the Armie, chang'd abso­lutely their affections to the Queene: Who was questionlesse by necessitie compel'd to things un­lawfull, whereby to prevent the disbanding of her Forces, which were onely payd, and kept toge­ther by a licencious spoyle.

To oppose against this attempt, which onely betray'd the weaknesse of the Enemie; King Ed­ward sent downe the Lord Mountague▪ himselfe staying behind to raise an Armie, befitting the greatnesse of his name, and present quarrell. Gi­ving likewise order that his Navie should guard the Seas, to hinder any succours to the Queene from forraigne confederates. But this was an un­necessary caution t [...] no state abroad being so de­sperate, as to imbarque itselfe i [...] the broken seat of her Fortune.

Mountague at Land had a braver occasion to shew his courage: who having in the Bishoprick of Dur [...]sme gathered convenient Forces, marcht di­rectly against King Henry. By the way the Lords Hungerford, and Rosse, and Sir Ralph Percie presen­ted themselves to hinder his farther course: but perceiving the good order and courage of his Ar­mie, all fled but the valiant Percie▪ Who disdai­ning to reprive his life beyond his honour, or to shew the least weakenesse beneath his name or Spirit fought it out with his [...]; till over­p [...]est with number; he and his were all cut to peeces.

Encourag'd with his successe Mountague at­tempts, without expectation of any farther suc­cour or direction, to finish the presen [...] war [...]e: and immediately marches to a plaine neere the [Page 27] River Dowell in Hexam-shire, where King Henries Armie lay encampt. The Campe he suddenly as­saults in the night; and had taken it without any losse, had not the enemie beyond reason gathered themselves into some order and valiantly op­pos'd. But no courage could withstand the For­tune and spirit of Mountague, for the Queenes Campe at length was lost, and in it taken the Duke of Sommerset, the Lords Hungerford, Rosse, Moulins and Hussie, with Wentworth and Finderne Knights: Sommerset on the place lost his head: the rest sent to Newcastle to suffer there the same punishment. But King Henry and the Queene escap'd at the first on set: whose Tragoedy drew not yet nere the last Act.

King Edward whose Fortune fought for him, even in his absence, encounter'd the newes of this victory in his march toward Durisme: so that fin­ding the presence of his person and Armie need­lesse he return'd toward Yorke: Giving command to Warwicke to take in all the Forts and Castles which yet in the North held out. On the way he was certified of the apprehension of King Henries person, who was surprized as he endeavord by shifting from place to place to have recovered Scotland. With the joy of which report King Ed­ward returnd to London, whether as yet hee never came but glorious in the accession of some new Triumph.

The sonne of Sir Edward Talbot of Lanca-shire, apprehended King Henry as he sate at dinner at Waddington Hall, and forgetting all respect due to so great a Prince, like a common malefactor with his legges tyed under the horse belly, guarded him up toward London. By the way the Earle of Warwick met him, who adding indignities to his [Page 28] affliction, with the generall reproaches of the peo­ple (the acclamations they give to the unfortu­nate) led him prisoner to the Tower. The onely companions of his present calamity, were Doctor Manning Deane of Windsore, and Doctor Bedle: both of so divine a calling, as shewed no misfor­tune could seperate him from his Pietie.

The miserable Queene seeing the desolation of her greatnesse, her husband imprison'd, all her great partakers fled or slaughter'd, made againe her retreate into France: and with her sonne (whose preservation flatter'd her with some hope that one day he might rebuild the now ruin'd house of Lancaster) fled to her fathers Court. A most wretched Sanctuary to her feares: where she had onely leisure by long sufferance to prepare her minde for future misery.

But this her dejection rais'd Edward up to an unsuspicious Soveraigntie: so that now he began to set strong the disjoynted body of his King­dome. And knowing liberalitie the onely liga­ment that ties affection to a Prince, he resolv'd by attaindor of his enemies to enable himselfe to re­ward the services of his friends. And though hee pretended the gate of mercie ever to stand open to the submission of the Lancastrians, yet few or none accepted the favour: either distrustfull of his realli­tie, or feeding their hopes with imagination that the tide of Fortune would not still flow with so impetuous a torrent.

But King Edward disdaining a faction so con­temptible in their ruine, should disdaine his cle­mencie; proceeded to punishment. The Earle­dome of Pembrooke, an honour heretofore enjoy'd by Jasper Teuther halfe brother to Henry the sixth, [Page 29] he bestowed on Sir William Herbert a Knight of Wales, both for descent and power most eminent, and to whose ayde a great part of the present fe­licitie was owing. To the Lord Mountague, whose person and service he equally lov'd, he gave the opulent possessions belonging to the family of the Percies.

But the most open hand cannot satisfie the ex­pectation of great deservers: who set so high a price upon their merits, that they leave their Prin­ces no power of reward. The greatest be­nefit being received in the degree of a debt, not a gift. And certainely Mountague and his brother Warwicke had by too much merit even disobleig'd the King: what honour soever they were in future to have, being so little able to can­cell the obligation, it could scarce defray the inte­rest. And in that way was this title and inheri­tance accepted, which gave the King occasion to distaste whom otherwise he would with passion have embrac'd. Whereupon reflecting on the dan­ger of adding power to them, who wanted onely will to doe mischiefe, and knowing how easily innovation might be resolv'd on, when nothing but the conscience was to be perswaded: he be­gan seriously to wish the mightinesse of that fa­mily (hee owed the crowne to) in some degree lessend. Yet that hee might no way appeare un­thankefull to so great deserts, he thought fit to weaken their strength, and yet to adde to the spen­der of their title. Whereupon he willingly admitted the friends of Percie to interced for restitution both of honor and revenue, and soone granted it: Rewarding Mountague with the more specious stile of Marquesse. But this state-tricke was by [Page 30] the brothers easily understood, and accepted with the same brow they would have entertaind an in­jurie.

Which the King dissembled; and to build his estimation high in the ayre of popular applause, endeavord by all the Arts of humble greatnesse to endeare himselfe into the opinion of the multi­tude. His presence was easie to any mans love or curiositie, his aspect cleere and smiling, his lan­guage free and familiar. And to the Ladies who have also their share in the motion of states, he ap­plyed a generall courtship: which used by a Prince and of so amiable a personage; made them, usual­ly the Idolls of others, Idolaters of him. Among his Nobility he was so supple in gesture, and libe­rall in affability; that he appeard King, not in his assumption of state, but in their application of duty. This to winne outward applause: while to settle an inward sence of his wisdome, he looked into abuses of Officers, and reformed them. Nei­ther was there any oppression or mistake in go­vernment, but what he releiv'd or corrected. And that it might appeare how zealously [...]ee sought due administration of justice, he in person sate three dayes together on his Bench at Westminster Hall: which though it little advanced the uncor­cupted execution of the lawes, yet it serv'd happily for example, and created, what hee then most courted, opinion.

Thus he grew upon his people at home, while abroade the neighbouring states began to de­cline the danger of his future enmitie: who ever measure the power of Princes by that sway and affection they have among their subjects. Charles Earle of Charolois (a widdower but without heire [Page 31] male) heire to a large and opulent territory (the seventeene Provinces with the Duchie and Coun­ty of Burgundie, and the greatest part of Picardie, being subject to Duke Philip his Father) first made his addresse. Who bearing an implacable hatred to Lewis of France, desired to gaine so potent a neighbour to his party: and that he might secure the friendship against all vacillation, he by his Embassadors entreated a marriage with the Lady Margaret, the Kings sister. A motion heard in England with much acceptance, and which every circumstance well weigh'd, brought both honour and securitie. But it was thought by some inti­mate with the Earle in his most inward counsells, that really he never intended this marriage: ha­ving from his mother, neece to John of Oaunt Duke of Lancaster deriv'd an irreconcilable ma­lice against the house of Yorke. And that this nego­tiation aim'd onely to temporize with England, in case the Duke of Brittaine and the French Kings brother should desert him and make their peace with Lewis; against whom these three were then in confederacie: but this I beleeve an overcunning in conjecture; since marriage among Princes, as it seldome confirmes a sound friendship, so doth it never extirpate an ancient hatred: the proofe of our and all times shewing how false a love is created by alliance. But the thoughts of Princes are so unknowne to Posterity, that they are beyond the [...]or [...]ti [...]e of the present time. I will not therefore dispute what the Earles inward de­signes were; but certainely both according to reason of state and the [...]v [...]o [...] (which is the best light Historians can discerne by) as it vvas pre­tended so vvas it intended.

[Page 32]The marriage of his sister, thus far advanc'd, he began to advise with Counsell concerning his owne. A strong alliance abroad was soone resol­ved most necessary both for the dignity and safety of his Crowne: and among all the Princesses that time gloried in, the Lady Bona was thought wor­thyest his bed. In respect of the excellencie of her beauty, greatnesse of birth (as being daughter to Lewis Duke of Savoy) and the mighty marriage of her other sister with Lewis the Eleventh of France. This last consideration being a maine in­ducement: as by which all feare might bee taken away of a tempest from that coast, whence Queene Margaret seem'd to prepare a storme.

To this negotiation the Earle of Warwicke was deputed as the fittest person, both for his great faith to the King, and authority in the Kingdome. Who no sooner arriv'd at the French Court, where the young Lady then resided, in company of her sister; but was withall triumph entertain'd, and his motion heard with joy and acceptation.

The ambition of the French Queene to have her sister married to so great a Prince prevailing a­gainst many politique respects, which might else have overswayd King Lewis. And soone after for an absolute conclusion of all businesses. Mounsiur D'ampmartin was design'd Embassador for Eng­land. These two Kings equally solliciting the per­fection of this marriage. Edward that hee might without feare of more danger enjoy the glory of a late recover'd Kingdome. Lewis, that freed from the danger of an English invader, he might give a period to his busie projects at home, by laying the deuill of civill warre, rais'd by a tumultuous No­bility.

[Page 33]But while policie acted severall parts abroade; love on the suddaine chang'd the whole Sceane at home. For the Young King after hunting com­ming to visite the Duches of Bedford at her Man­nor of Grafton neere S [...]ony. Stratford, was sollicited by a faire petitioner the Duchesses daughter, wi­dow of Sir John Gray, [...]e on King Henries part at the battaile of S^•. Albans. The King could not but yeeld to any request made by [...] conquering a beauty, and presently himselfe glew as earnest in solliciting her▪ but in a more unlawfull suite. But she arm'd her [...]oule with a modesty able to breake the hottest battery of lust: and though on every side assaulted by the engines of temptation, shee repulst her enemie so nobly; that he offer'd party upon honorable tearmes▪ For when the King perceiv'd her adorn'd with a chastitie strong enough to resist him▪ who had scarce ever beene but victorious in those attempts, he grew ena­mor'd on the beauty of her minde, and resolv'd her vertue was dowre enough to marry her to the highest Throne. Reason of state argued sharpely against a marriage so unequall to Majestie, by al­leaging the perill of irritating so potent a neigh­bour as King Lewis, and so dangerous a subject as Warwick, as likewise the inconvenience of raising a widdow to his bed, who could bring nothing with her but her poverty, and an unprovided issue: Who if not advanc'd by him would bee a scorne to his children, if advanc'd a ruinous charge to his Exchequer, and an envie both to the Princes of his blood, and the Nobility of his Kingdome. But Love like a cunning Sophister easily refell'd all pollitique arguments, and per­swaded reason her selfe almost to be of his side.

[Page 34]For he repeated to the King his owne prero­gative, which being so large; why should he then be denyed the liberty of a free choyce, which is allowed the meanest subject? Why might not he wooe with his owne eyes, and make election where his fancie best delighted? As for the Lady her selfe he found her in the treasures of her minde most abundant, and in the perfections of her bo­dy excellent to please him, who, and not the state, was to marry. For her birth, she was by the fa­ther Noble in descent at home, by her mother of the house of Luxenbourge, a family with which the greatest Princes of Christendome had neere alli­ance. As for marrying a subject and the widdow of his enemie: the later argued more charity, and the former could not but tye the affection of his people, when they saw their Prince disdain'd not affinity with them. For a president to authorize these his intended Nuptialls, he had Edward the Blacke Prince his great Vncle, great indeede if not the greatest, among all the Princes of his name. And for the threatned danger from King Lewis or the Earle of Warwicke: from France he could ne­ver expect how neere so ever the alliance had beene but an unfaithfull amitie: and should this his marriage thrust Warwicke upon rebellious at­tempts, the rebell would but fondly runne upon his owne ruine: since it could not stand with the Majestie of a King, to hold his Crowne by so base a tenure, as to have his actions awed by a subject. These and such like arguments, which love is cunning upon all occasions to enforce, prevail'd so far that though the old Duches of Yorke his mother most violently opposed, by throwing the highest calumnies upon the Lady Gray, and allea­ging [Page 35] a precontract with the Lady Lucy, yet one mor­ning secretly did he marry her. For the disparity of birth or Fortune is no impediment; and for the precontract: upon examination the Lady Lucy her self acquitted the King, only laying to his cha [...]g the guilt of a most winning courtship▪ And though afterward during the usurpation of Richard the third, in open Parlament was alleaged against the lawfulnesse of King Edwards marriage▪ strange potions and amorous charmes by which the Lady Elizabeth Gray bewitcht him to her love, and like­wise another precontract with the Lady Edeanor Dutler daughter to the Earle of Shrewsbury and widdow to the Lord of Sudlye: I cannot but be­leeve all those scandals by some of the tyrants wic­ked instruments, suggested into the mindes of that assembly. For had there beene a just exception against this marriage neither George Duke of Cla­rence, nor the Earle of Warwicke, in their frequent calumnies against the King being in open rebelli­on, had left it unmention'd.

But no sooner had King Edward obey'd his [...]an­cie in taking her to his bed, and in that [...]asted the forbidden fruite (forbidden I meane by politique respects) but he saw himselfe naked, of friends at home and abroade, to oppose against any new a­rising difficulty. But as yet by the braverie of his carriage did he a [...]de an honour to the [...]ct▪ Courage and Love, either denying him [...] to foresee or to regard the danger. Though as soone as the marriage was de [...]ged, hee presently I dis­cern'd another face of men. Mo [...]i [...]r [...] in the Extraordinary for France, full of indignation, return'd and the Nobility in generall look [...] discon­tented, or else but forc'd a smile▪ The so [...] hig [...] [Page 36] advancement of this one Lady and her children, lately beneath so many in fortune, begetting an universall envie in the rest. But when the Earle of Warwicke understood how mighty an affront by this was given to his imployment; he entertain'd none but disdainefull thoughts against his Prince▪ And exprest so bold a discontent▪ that Lewis of France, who was quicke to perceive, and carefull to [...]omentany displeasure, which might tend to the disturbance of another Kingdome, began to enter into private communication with him. For ever after this common injury, so they cal'd the errour of love in the King, the Earle held a dan­gerous intelligence in France, which after occa­sion'd so many confusions to our Kingdome▪ Ne­verthelesse upon his returne he dissembled [...]ll dis­content, and in every circumstance of respect ap­plyed himselfe to appla [...]de the mariage, and in particular the excellent pe [...]sonage of the Queene▪ The King int [...]rpreted the intentions of the man according to the apparance, unwilling perhaps to racke his owne nature so farre till it had confest that his carriage might dissemble danger. And in the meane time to raise his wives kindred as neere as possibly to his owne greatnesse, hee search [...] out all meanes for their advancement▪ The Lord Richard Widdevill her Father he created Earle of Rivers, and High Constable of England, with an annuall Fee of 200▪ pound out of the Exche­quer, whom shortly after he made Lord Treasu­re [...] ▪ Her brother Anthony hee created Lord Scales, the daughter and heir [...] to which title, by the Kings▪ ear [...]est sollicitation, he not long before had wedded. And her sonne Thoma [...] hee rais'd to the honour of Marquesse D [...]rset, for whom he pro­cured [Page 37] in marriage the heire of the Lord Bonvile and Harrington. By his owne free gift enobling them with titles, and by the industry of his me­diation enabling them with possessions, to make those titles no scorne to the owners.

Every unmarried Lord imagin'd the bestowing of these two great heires on the Queenes kin­dred, an injury to his owne hopes: And Warwick thought every great office confer'd upon another, misplac'd. For his many Services begot so great an insolencie, that he scarce allowed the King a share in the distribution of his owne: Hereupon his thoughts grew dangerous, and onely oppor­tunity was wanting to thrust him into action. He consider'd the vastnesse of his possessions, the greatnesse of his authority among the Commons, and the generall dependancies of the men of war upon him; and hence concluded, it was as easie for him to uncreate as to create a King▪ But hee found the generall humor of the kingdome not yet fully ripe for mischiefe: the vulgar enamor'd on the much curtesie of their Prince; the Lords neerest to him in blood & likeliest to incline to his Faction deare likewise to the King; and all of the house of Lancaster who by probability would at first invitement take fire in any combustion of the state, exil'd and poore. Sedition therefore for the present was but an embrion in his braine, which after when time had deliver'd, became so vast and bloody a monster. Neverthelesse hee was not unmindfull of his designe, cherishing unkinde thoughts in any whom he saw distasted at the King, and casting forth speeches which might les­sen the honour of his publicke and private acti­ons▪ with which discourses, as with slow poysons [Page 38] he infected many limbes of the general body. Then upon pretention of infirmity, and pre­scription of P [...]isitions for the change of ayre, with licence from the King he retired to his Castle at Warwicke. Where his observation was, what Lords great in power or treasure resorted to him, and with what countenance, whether they un­dervalued the weakenesse of the Kings judgement, or hated the advancement of the Queene and her kindred: whether they were troubled at any private repulse or open affront, or generally at the publicke businesse: or whether they repented not the so violent oppression of the family of Lan­caster: Any discontent making for his purpose, which either pointed at the errors of the King, pride of the Queene and her kindred, or the mis­government of the state. Vpon the affections of the meaner sort begain'd by a profu [...]e hospitality▪ [...] open kitchen and buttery perswading more with them than any dutie to justice: Vpon the good will of the better sort he wonne, by bowing his entertainement downe to an endearing fami­liarity, saluting every man curteously by his name, and engaging them by triviall benefits. And with all sorts by his great service to the Crowne, and a carriage Noble both in warre and peace.

The King, though he wanted that vertue of [...]o­wards, suspicion; began neverthelesse to have the Earle in some jealousie: his unusuall retirednesse from the Court, and so expencefull purchasing the voyce of the people, argued both distaste against his Prince, and a hope to maintaine any unlaw­full enterpise by Faction. But either in pollicie he dissembled his distrust, nor having yet any firme ground to build a just accusation, or in good na­ture [Page 39] would ecclips the Earles greatnesse, by which himselfe enjoy'd a benefit little lesse tha [...] the Crowne. But that the storme threatned from France, for incensing King Lewis in the di [...]ou [...]t marriage of the Lady [...]ona▪ might be diverted▪ he made strong confederacies round about him. With Henry King of Castle, and John King of Ar­ [...]agon, that Spaine▪ however far remo [...]e, might b [...]e neere in friendship, he enter'd into leag [...]: and upon the conclusion of it, granted licence for the transportation of certaine Cotswold sheepe thither, a grant that is complain'd of still, as a mighty en­riching to the Spanish, and as great an empoveri­shing to the English Merchant. With Scotland hee made a truc [...] for fifteene yeeres, that he invading France, or invaded by the French, might be secure however not to have that Nation, according to their custome upon all advantages enemies at his backe. His Ambassadors in the Low Countries, urged the Duke of Burg [...]ndie to [...] accomplish­ment of the marriage betweene his sonne the Earle of Charolois, and the Lady Margaret the Kings sister. And so happie successe had thi [...] n [...]go­tiation, that though for some yeares it had hung [...]n suspence, it was now absolutely agreede on, and the Bastard of Burgundy sent over with full instru­ctions and power to give the Trea [...]ie a finall con­clusion. For whatsoever dissimulation the Earle of Charolois used at first▪ he now int [...] th [...]s mar­riage seriously: In regard hee found himselfe lye open to the ma [...]ice of King Lewis▪ a most dange­rous Neighbour, who by pollicie or [...] had broken all those great confederacies the Earle had before in France. Wherefore [...]here was now no [...]afe [...]y but in ar [...]ing himselfe by a [...] amity with [Page 40] the English, a Nation forward and fierce to at­tempt any thing upon the French, and in their at­tempts scarce ever but prosperous. Neither was the courage of the Kings youth, and his continuall good successe in warre a small inducement: con­sidering it gave a certaine hope, that he upon any invitation of honour or profit might be perswa­ded to crosse the Seas, & undertake the ancient na­tional quarrel. And for the danger of any alteration in the government, there was then no ground for suspition: the King honour'd and loved by his people, the adverse faction of no power, and the Earle of Warwicke having never yet declared him­selfe but most passionately affected to the house of Yorke. Wherefore in reason of sta [...]e being no im­pediment, the marriage was soone ageeed on, and upon the agreement, many triumphs glorious but martiall, according to the nature of that time, so devoted to Armes.

But to interrupt the jollity of these Triumphs, an expresse came from the Low-Countries, with the newes of the death of Duke Phillip: Presently the Bastard returnd, and our Councell stood at a gaze, being in some suspence what alteration the busi­nesse might receive, the Earle now absolute in possession of his Fathers dominions. But that scruple was soone taken away, by an Ambassador sent to hasten the full performance of the mar­riage. Whereupon the Lady was carried over with all the ceremonies of greatnesse, and at Burges married to Duke Charles: that Nation which then exceeded all the World in bravery and riot, exceeding even it selfe, at this tiumph, in the wan­tonnesse of a superfluous pompe. In those Coun­tries she lived some while his wife, though ever [Page 41] barren with as much love from him, as hee could spare from his ambitious warres, but she continu­ed long his widdow in much reputation among the Natives and good esteeme with neighboring Princes. Two things rendred her much the dis­course of those times. An extraordinary love and care in the education of the posterity of her hus­band, and an extreame malice against Henry the seventh. To supplant whom, because there wan­ted true, she countenanc'd the suppositious Princes of the house of Yorke; and by continuall practises revenged in part, the injury of that disre­spect, he ever cast upon her family.

This so potent alliance, and his confederacies with forraigne states, made King Edward imagine himselfe in great security, when indeede hee was most unsafe. For during these treaties abroade and triumphes at home; the Earle of Warwicke quickned so farre his designes, that now there ap­pear'd a dangerous life in them. The body of his Faction was grown mighty but monstrous, being compacted of severall natures. For into conspi­racie of this great enterprise he had drawne off the Clergie, and the Laity, and most of them of affe­ctions most opposite. The Archbishop of Yorke was the principall mover, because he moved up­on the soule; and made treason an act of Religion▪ The easie multitude who builde their faith upon the man, not the Doctrine; thinking it meritori­ous to rebell, in regard his function seem'd to give authority to the action. With the Archbishop the Marquesse Mountague consented, but secretly: ei­ther cunningly dissembling mischiefe, or else wi­shing well to both sides being in himselfe devided betweene a naturall love to a brother, and an [Page 42] alleigance to a Prince: or perhaps projecting to make his benefit, out of which party soever should prevaile. With these agreed many eminent per­sons of King Edwards Court; whom either desire of warre, having never lived but in the troubled streame of discord, or want of expected recom­pence, renderd discontent.

All the partakers in the calamity of the house of Lancaster, most passionately at first overture em­brac'd this motion: as men, whom desperation had prepar'd fit for the mostruinous attempt. And who, having found nothing but evill fortune at home, and contempt abroad, were instructed in a pacience ready with joy to suffer a not inglori­ous death. Among whom Henry Holland Duke of Exceter was a sad example; who after his ruine with the fal of Henry the sixth was reduc'd to so mi­serable a condition, that all ragged and bare footed he begg'd for his meate in the Low-Countries, the absolute Prince whereof and he, married two sisters, the daughters of Richard Duke of Yorke. With this so unfortunate Lord, all the rest who shared with him in misery, ranne violently into this warre. But the wonder of the world then was at the powerfull sorcerie of those perswasi­ons, which bewitcht the Duke of Clarence, the Kings brother to this conspiracie: but hee was young & purblind in foreseeing the event of things Profuse in expence beyond his revenue, and al­most beyond the Kings power to supply: grudg­ing the favours confer'd upon the Queene and her kindred: Valuing his birth too high, as who for­got the brother of a King is but a subject: for­ward upon any termes to make himselfe greater; easily lending eare to dangerous whispers, and as [Page 43] rashly giving consent. These preparatives made this young Prince fit to take any mischiefe, which the Earle of Warwicke ministred most plentifully. And first to apply to the narrownesse of his pre­sent fortune, a humor most troublesome at the in­stant; he gave him in marriage the Lady Isabell his daughter, and ooheire to the rich Earledome of Warwicke. In hatred against the Queene he con­curd and in discontent against the Kings so slender rewards: but in promising greatnesse to Clarences ambition, he exceeded even proportion; though not probability: considering the Earles unlimit­ted power. But first to make the friendship strong by a neere alliance, they saild over for the consum­mation of this marriage to Callice, of which town the Earle of Warwicke was Captaine, and in which the young Lady then remain'd with her mother. Soone was this ceremony past, and soone did the Earle invite his Sonne-in-Law from the softnesse of the nuptiall dalliance, as who had contrived this marriage for businesse, not for pleasure: and design'd the first issue of their embraces to bee a monster, and the most unnaturall one; Warre be­tweene brothers.

He acquainted therefore his Sonne-in-Law by what line he had sounded the depth of the peoples affection to the present King; and what a tempest he was able to raise when ever he should resolve for motion. He told him how in the North 15000. men had beene in Armes, pretending revenge up­on the governours of Saint Leonards Hospitall in Yorke, for converting the Alemony they receiv'd from the Country every yeare in Corne to their owne use, by which they both defrauded the poore, and the charitable intention of the owners: [Page 44] Whereas indeed the armed multitude moved first by his councell onely, awaiting his presence, with resolution to runne any hazard of his command. And though the Marquesse Mountague, rais'd Forces in King Edwards name, by which he quieted the commotion, and beheaded Robert Huldron their chiefe Captine: yet were the people ready upon the first Summons to reassemble, and the Mar­quesse (who by such apparence of fidelity had won upon the easie faith of the dull King) prepa­red to bring his forces and joyne in any enterprise he should appoint. He showed farther how by this his brothers dissimulation, his intelligence held perfect in the Kings Councell; and all the re­solutions of state might bee without difficultie prevented, since no sooner made but disco­vered.

The Duke, who before held the Earles courage and authority with the people in great estima­tion, now began to wonder at the so cunning mannage of this great businesse. Neither could he suspect the successe, the Earle having so order'd things, that he left little or nothing to [...]ortune. Whereupon he gave his judgement entirely up to his Fathers in law discretion; with whom hee re­turn'd into England, openly professing and justify­ing his resolution to rebellion. The vanity of ambition sealing up his eyes so farre, that he could not perceive the unnaturalnesse of his revolt, and the certaine hazard of ruine, in warring against a Prince so great both in armes and Fortune.

Against their returne the Arch-bishop of Yorke had wrought so diligently to ripen mischiefe; that the multitude disperst before were againe in the field, b [...]t under Leaders of a farre more eminent [Page 45] name. For Henry Sonne to the Lord Fitz Hugh, and Henry Nevill sonne to the Lord Latimer (the one Nephew, the other Cosen german to Warwicke) had the conduct of these Forces: both gentlemen great in blood and spirit, but in regard of their unexperienc'd youth, submiting themselves to the directions of Sir John Conyers, a Commander bold in courage and sober in advice. Their march was not now directed against any petty Towne in the North as before, but toward London the head of the Kingdome; and the cause of their taking Armes, not upon any triviall injury or opression, but out of desire of publicke justice, by throwing downe a licencious Vsurper; and re-investing in the Soveraignty King Henry, their lawfull Mo­narch, so injuriously detain'd prisoner in the Tower. This pretention carryed with it much of bravery; pleased the humor of most of the Nor­therne men, passionately still affected to the line of Lancaster, and tooke generally with the Com­monalty a beast as prone to unseasonable pitty, as to inhumane cruelty; and ever defirous to change governement, because naturally it can endure none.

The noyse of these Armes waked King Edward: for he now perceiv'd his title to the Crowne, (for which he imagin'd he had had so cleere a sen­tence) brought againe to tryall, and the sword judge. He cast his eye about him, and found eve­ry where the way open to his jealousie; and none to security: All those Lords, from whom he might expect supply, being neer [...] to Warwicke in friend­ship or allianee, and the Marquesse Mountague, in whose service he had ever found most trust and fortune, even brother to his enemie. How could [Page 46] he therefore beleeve, but notwithstanding all their outward professious of loyaltie, privately they might favour Rebellion? As for the Queenes kindred, (of whose faith in regard of their owne interest, he remain'd secure) he could draw little confidence: Their greatnesse so young, that: it had yet taken no deepe roote in opinion, and their Forces onely weake beames shot from the Sunne of the Kings owne power. But no consideration in this trouble begot so much scorne and rage in him, as the revol [...] of Clarence, whose giddie ambi­tion made him rather chuse to become a Word to rough and insolent guardian, than to share with his brother a King in the treasures of Fortune. The forces of the Rebells hee weighed more by the reputation of their leader Warwicke, than by the number; though even that grew every day more formidable.

To prepare against these dangerous motions in his English Rebells, he speedily sent to the Earle of Pembrooke commission [...]o raise what Welch For­ces he could: having in this generall suspition of his disloyall, subjects; most confidence in the va­lour of the Welch; and their naturall hatred against the English name. He required the Earle to give battell by the way, while himselfe gathered as great an Armie as the present danger, and cause in controversie required. The Earle joyfull of the command, puts suddenly into the field with his valiant brother Sir Richard Herbert, ha­ving under their conduct seaven thousand men. To them soone joyn'd eight hundred bow men, led by the Lord Stafford of Southwicke, not long before created. Earle of Devonshire. With these Forces he resoly'd to hinder the Rebells in their [Page 47] journey, and having notice by e [...]piall [...] [...] they tooke their way by Northumpton, against thei [...] hee led the whole body of his Armie▪ Having given order to Sir Richard Herbert with two thousand souldiers to wheele about, and charge the en [...]mle in the Rere.

Sir John Coniers was [...] vigilan [...] to be su [...]p [...]'d, and so carefully had strengthned the Rerewar [...] that the Welch [...] ere [...]epuh [...] with losse, and forc'd by flight to safery. Whereupon he retired to his brother: while Coniers upon new instroctions, or else f [...]arefull least Pembrooke in the way might gaine some advantage, dwerted from his direct course to London, and m [...]ch [...] to Warwicke; where the Duke of Clarence and the Earle of Warwicke had leviod a mighty Host P [...]m [...]rooke waites close up on their journey, expecting the opportunity [...] to cut off some part of the enemie disorderd; o [...] to give battell to the whole Armie. But while con­stant in this pursuite o [...] [...]l [...]y, hee shewed all the parts of a great Commander, a small division be­tweene him and the Lord Stufford ruin'd the whole a [...]tempt. For incasnping a [...] Banbury que­stion grew concerning an Inne, to which Stafford pretended as having used long to the house: but in which Pembrooke in regard of his preheminence as Generall, and commodiousnesse of the place, was resolvid [...]o lodge▪ This so [...]i [...]iall dista [...] (if there were no farther trea [...] in i [...]) grew so high that Stafford withdrew himselfe, and his English Arch [...]s, leaving the W [...] in A [...] and number farre inferiour to the enemie▪ which defect ne­verthelesse was supplyed by their great cou­rage.

From when the Re [...]ells who soone had notice of [Page 48] this unhappie discord) gave the Earles Campe next morning a Camisado: the Welch entertain'd the charge so stou [...]ly that they [...]ooke Sir Henry Nevill the Leader; but (what savor'd too much of barba­risme) most cruelly slew him in cold blood. By which Act they rais'd so feirce an appetite o [...] re­venge in the enemie, that the next day they gave the Earle battell, and the fight was long and cru­ell. Neither [...]ad the victory fallen so absolutely to the Northerne men, but that John Clopton re [...]ainer to the Earle of Warwicke, appearing upon the top of a neighbouring hill, with five hundred ragged and disordred men, u [...]der Warwickes standard; and the Northerne men at their approach crying out a Warwicke▪ a Warwicke [...] made the Welch beleeve all the Rebell Forces were there, and that it would be but foolish desperation to fight it out against an enemie fresh and so farre superior in number: whereupon they [...]ed.

In the battell and the flight five thousand of the Welch were sl [...]ine, and among the few prisoners the Earle of Pembrooke and Sir Richard Herbert were taken: whose heads soone after were sacri­fic'd upon the Scaffold, to the Ghost of Nevill. Their valour and brave direction begetting an universall sorrow to the Kings partie in their deaths: and even an envie in the conquering Enemie. Neither did the Lord S [...]afford the author of this overthrow escape condigne punishment: for by diligent inquiry found in Devons [...]ire, without processe at Bridgewater hee lost his head. Having so inconsiderately managed his businesse, that he betrayd King Edwards Armie, upon a false apprehension of an affront: and yet provided not thereby to w [...]nne favour so far with the enemie, [Page 49] as by their Armes to protect himselfe from the Kings just indignation.

This victory added yet a bolder courage to the attempt of Warwicke; but into the Northerne mul­titude it infused a madnesse, not to be cured by a­ny councell or direction. For immediately some companies of them retired into Northampton shire; where associating to them certaine of the most de­sperate inhabitants, no mischiefe was left unacted. The name they gave their Commander, (if such a disorder'd rabble, could obey any) was Robin Rid­disdale, and their first assault on Gra [...]ton, a seate belonging to King Edwards Father-in-Law the Earle Rivers. The place their wilde rage soone possest, and among the other spoyles violently taken there, were the Earle himselfe, and Sir John Widdevill his younger Sonne. These they prosent­ly led to Northampton, and there beheaded without any forme of Law: that deform'd body having no eare open to any discourse, but to that of blood and fury. An envied life and cruell death was the Summe of all those favours confer'd by Fortune on this Lord, esteem'd so happie in his owne mar­riage with Jaquet, widdow of John Duke of Bed­ford, and daughter to Peter of Luxenburgh▪ Count S^t. Paul, and in his daughters with the present King. For as the assent to these strange heights are ever malign'd, so the desent is ruinous and fa­tall: Not any one of seven sonnes which this Lord was Father [...]o, leaving behind him issue to perpe [...]uate the [...]ame: some of them likewise ex­tinguishing violently. A misery either seldome happening, o [...] not observ'd in meane [...] fami­lies.

This great d [...]l [...]ate, and these in [...]olencies [...]o be­yond [Page 50] the sufferance of a Prince, together with the Earle of Warwickes openly professing himselfe head to this vaste body of Rebells, strooke an a­stonishment in the Kings Armie; and I will not say feare, but strange diffidence in the King him­selfe. Which inclin'd him to listen to the safer though lesse noble advice of them, who perswa­ded him to end all dissention with the Earle by treaty. For in this so universall disease of the King­dome, there was some sound men, both of the Clergie and Nobility yet left, whom faction did not interesse in mischiefe; and who out of experi­ence of past miseries, were willing to prevent fu­ture. By their mediation (though the Armies by this time were so neere encampt, that they could hardly part without battell) were every houre made new overtures of peace, and on both sides not un willingly received. The Earle of Warwicke (whose pretence was that of all Rebels, The good of the Kingdome) entertain'd these Treaties with a humil [...]ty beneath his nature, and late advantages; neither appear'd stubborne to bend downe to the lowest submission, so provision might bee made for the publique benefit. Yet never in all these apparences of a calme, did he neglect to prepare himselfe against the roughest storme of warre: knowing the best way to bee reco [...]cil'd upon safe termes to an enemie, is, not to be necessitated to peace.

But the King of a wa [...]en nature, apt to receive any impress [...]ons best pleas'd his present humour; would not trouble his quiet to believe there might be fallacie in Warwicke [...] pretensions. Whereupon imagining that had received perfection which was then but in [...]itation; [...]hee neglected the order [Page 51] of warre, and began in his Campe to taste the pleasures of Court. Which evill discipline ob­serv'd by the Earle; hee takes the advantage, suddenly sets on the Kings field, kills▪ the watch, and in the dead of night at Wollny with­in foure miles of Warwicke, surpriseth his per­son, buried in a carelesse sleepe. So that, hee no sooner waked, but found how false his dreame had beene, which flatter'd him with peace.

This so unhappie negligence betray the King to an insulting enemie, who up brayded his priso­ner, in the most insolent termes, with ingratitude to his great merits; and boasted it was now both in his power and resolution to plaine that moun­taine he had rais'd, and raise the humbled vally of King Henries fortunes, up to the throne he once possest. And presently sent away the King priso­ner to Middleham Castle in Yorke-shire, there to be kept by his brother busie Archbishop of that Sea: Not daring to retaine him longer, least his Armie might unite, and hazzard the recovery of their Prince.

In this middle and unsafe course of managing his great fortune, questionlesse the Earle commit­ted a maine oversight. For either by a free deli­very with some conditions advantagious for himselfe and friends (and what conditions would the King then not have sign'd?) hee should have cast a perpetuall obligation up­on him; or else by destroying him have se­cured his designe from after hazzard: know­ing that no prison could hold a Prince, which would not open to corruption or battery; and no brother could have a faith so strong which [Page 52] would not bee in danger, to bee weakned ei­ther by threates or promises. But perhaps this way of pollicie was onely beaten by that time; and the proud Earle tooke a glory to keepe the whole Kingdome at his devotion, and the two Competitors his Captives; for both of them his Fortune had imprison'd.

But King Edward grew soone weary of the restraint as whom a long practise in the liberty of pleasure had not endued with such a tame­nesse as armed King Henry. He therefore pre­sently casts his eye about to finde some way so redeeme his person from captivitie, and his honour from so darke an errour as by negli­gence to have beene surprised. And having up­on pretence of necessary exercise for health, ob­tained licence to hunt in the adjoyning Parke, he so contrived with Sir William Stanley and Sir Thomas Burgh, that unexpected they came to his rescue with a number and resolution farre superiour to those who guarded him. With them hee escapes to Yorke and so to Lancaster, where the Lord Hastings Lord Chamberlaine had gathered some Forces. With this increase of followers hee marcht directly to London, his Company growing by the way to such a bo­dy, as might not unworthily bee termed a Armie.

Into the Citty hee was receiv'd with accu­stom'd triumph, the affection of the inha­bitants ever devoted to his prosperity. The occasion of which extraordinary zeale was certainely either a delight to continue him their Prince, whom their voyces first inaugurated King; or a hope by his re-establishment to recover [Page 53] those vaste summes of money, his necessities heretofore had borrowed in the Citty: or else a generall affection borne him by the Merchants wives; who having (according to the uxorious hu­mour of our Nation) a command over their hus­bands; urged them on to side with that Prince, the beautie of whose personage, not the justice of whose title, moved them.

But the Earle of Warwicke, soone as he had in­telligence of the escape, and the fortune which at­tended it, was distracted with a thousand severall imaginations. He had just reason to suspect his brother the Arch-bishops faith, as corrupted by the Kings perswasions: as likewise the weight of his owne reputation in the Kingdome, growne lighter, by so evill managing so good a fortune. He condemned the folly of his too much confi­dence, in having disbanded his Armie; and knew the difficulty, if not the impossibility, suddenly to reinforce it. But this was the inward part of him: outwardly he descended nothing from the height of his greatnesse and resolution. And to secure his former designe hee directed his letters to all the Lords of his Faction, and advise them to rea­semble for the common safety.

The solicitation of those good men, who heretofore had labourd peace, continued still: and so effectually endeavord, that in fine they brought both parties to agree upon an enterview in Westminster Hall. There vvas enterchange of oathes for safety on both sides and no­thing but a perfect r [...]union of friendship general­ly expected.

But no sooner vvas the Earle of Warwicke (who came accompanied by the Duke of Clarence) [Page 54] wisht to expresse his desires, but hee fell into a bold expostulation of injuries. And his language sweld to such intemperance, so far beyond the li­mits of that modesty becomes a subjects mouth: that the King full of indignation departed the Hall, and immediately tooke his journey to Canter­bury: on the other side the Earle, wilde in his an­ger, poasted to Lincolne: both making preparati­on for a second enterview, when the sword should both dispute and decide the controversie. Who ever perswaded these two great spirits to this mee­ting, err'd grosely in judgement, how zealous so­ever they were in their intention. For who could possibly imagine but the thunder of warre should necessarily follow that storme, which the recapi­tulation of injuries must beget? since expostulati­ons, (unlesse there be some apparent mistake or that the one partie by evill fortune be bowed to to an over-low submission) may well give a growth to rancor never extirpate it. But experi­ence all enterviws cōdemnes till by Cōmissioners (who with more patience can argue) all dissenti­ons are reconcil'd. And most of all against any be­tweene a Prince and his subject: since a subject hardly containes his language from insolencie, when by the disproportionable greatnesse of his fortune he is admitted upon even tearmes to con­test with his Soveraigne: and a Prince goes downe more than one step from Majestie, when he is forc'd to descend so low, as to hold parley with a Rebell.

The King understanding that the greatest part of the Earles Forces were under the conduct of Sir Robert Wells, and that by his good discipline they were become expert Souldiers, and had done [Page 55] some service against Sir Thomas Burgh: sent for Richard Lord Wells his Father; that having posses­sion of him, he might either withdraw the Sonne from Warwicke, or at least take off the edge from his violent proceedings. The Lord Wells in obe­dience to the Kings command with his brother in Law Sir Thomas Dimock addressed his journey to­ward the Court, but having by the way secret no­tice of the Kings high displeasure; and how un­safe his approach would be, secured himselfe in Sanctuary. But the King resolv'd upon any termes to get him, granted a generall pardon, and received him with promise of all faire usage. Vp­on which he came forth, and onely at his approach to the Kings presence, was advised by letters to recall his sonne from rebellion, and himselfe to beare a loyall heart. These letters dispatcht with as much authority as a father could challenge, he remaind in a kinde of twilight betweene favour and ruine, till the messengers returne. Who bring­ing backe no answere from the Sonne in obedi­ence to his fathers command, but rather a justifi­cation of his enterprise: so farre incenst the King, that he presently caused the Lord Wells and Dimock to be beheaded. An act barbarous and unfaith­full! For what just grounds soever the King might have to build suspition on, that Wells did not effectually perswade his sonne, or that in­wardly he wisht better to the affaires of Warwicke, yet ought he not to have violated his word. And it is a most poore excuse, to say a sudden rage was guilty of this mischiefe.

The report of this execution clouded generally the reputation of the King, but in Sir Robert Wells it begot nothing but fury and revenge. And in­deede [Page 56] rage so far blinded his judgement, that con­trary to all perswasion and sober direction, not attending Warwickes comming who every day was expected; he drew out his Forces, and charged the Kings Armie. Who received him with equall cou­rage, and (while hope of vengeance transported him too farre) inclosed him, and with threescore and seaven more, tooke him prisoner. Vpon the place and in the flight were slaine of the enemie ten thousand, on the Kings side onely thirteene hundred. They who escapt, to make their flight the swifter, cast away their coates, which gave to this battell the name of Loose-coate field. The prisoners immediately were executed, Sir Robert Wells having onely in his short delay of death the longer libertie to expresse his hatred against the King and his perfidious crueltie.

This overthrow forc'd Warwicke to new resolu­tion; for his maine Forces by the precipitation of the Commander destroy'd, he foresaw that sud­denly he could not recover an Armie, able to give the King battell, and how open to be surprised the least interim would render him. Whereupon lei­surely (for his great Spirit disdain'd any thing that resembled flight) he retired to Exetor, whence ha­ving dismissed the remainder of those troopes at­tended him, he went to Dart-mouth. There with many Ladies and a large retinue he tooke ship, and directly sayld to Callice. While the King no way laboured either by land or sea, to impeach their journie; either content with the former halfe vi­ctory (for nothing could have made it perfect, but the surprisall or destruction of Warwick) or hol­ding so little intelligence even in a conquerd ene­mies Campe▪ that he knew nothing of his pre­sent [Page 57] designe: The Earle having tryed as strange a vicissitude of fortune, as in so short a space, was ever observ'd in story; by the benefit of a prospe­rous gaile soone was brought before Callice Where being Captaine of the Towne hee expected en­trance, but the Cannon was presented him; and no Commisseration of the Duches of Clarences being in travaile, could obtaine so much as admittance to her present necessitie, onely the poore releefe of some few flaggons of wine, was sent her. Mouri­fieur de Vaucleere a Knight of Gascoiny Leivete [...]nt of the Towne, thus confidently refused his Captaine, professing that however hee owed his present Command to Warwickes bounty, his loyaltie to the King did cancell al inferiour obligations. By which bravery of his carriage he wonne so great repu­tation with the King and the Duke of Burgundie (who ever hated the factious pride of Warwicke, and even from the beginning of these troubles had labourd to continue Vaucleere firme in his al­leigance) that from the King he received by Let­ters Patents the Captaineship of Callice in Cheife, and from the Duke an annuall pension of a thou­sand Crownes during life. Into thus much ho­nour and profit did dissimulation worke him, while under hand by the subtilty of councell he steerd the Earle of Warwicke to safety, and by false appearing fidelity betray'd his Prince. For he asser­tain'd the Earle of his good intentions to his af­faires; and howeven now but that he knew it could not but be ruinous to both, he would declare him­selfe. For if the Earle entred the Towne hee did but imprison his person, to bee detain'd till the King were pleased to command it forth to execu­tion. Considering that the inhabitants were but [Page 58] unsure friends, and the Lord of Duras, the Earles profest enemie, Marshall of all the Forces in the Towne. Moreover the Burgonians territory en­compast Callice by Land, and their fleete was in readinesse to blocke it up by Sea, so that no way would be open to his escape. Wherefore hee ad­vised him for his present security and future hopes, presently to addresse himselfe to King Lewis of France, who was ever ready to entertaine any Lord of another Nation in quarrell with his Prince. But above all would welcome the Earle both in regard of the neere intelligence hee had long held with him; and the hatred he bore King Edward for affronting the Lady Bona; and the Duke of Burgundy for so often confederating with the re­bells of France.

By this councell the Earle of Warwicke steer'd his course to Deepe, by the way making prize of what­soever appertain'd to the Duke of Burgundy or his subject. And no sooner was hee landed there; but most solemnely invited to the Castle of Amboys, where King Lewis then kept his Court. The cere­mony (short ever with men of businesse) past over at the first meeting; suddenly they entred into councell how to renew the warre, and restore King Henry. Whose re-establishment in the Kingdome Lewis ever most passionately urg'd, not in respect of the neere alliance, commiseration of his long sufferance, or opinion of his better title; but onely because he knew him inferiour in cou­rage to King Edward, and therefore the lesse dan­gerous neighbour: and probably while any of the house of Yorke remaind, civill war likely to keepe the English Armes busied at home. Wherefore by his importunity Queene Margaret (who hitherto [Page 59] had lived an exile in France, and now upon the Kings invitation came to Court) was perfectly re­concil'd to the Earle of Warwicke. Warwicke who before had chased her out of the Land, disin­thrond her husband, and opprobriously impri­son'd him, cut off the many branches; and almost pluckt up the very roote of the tree of Lancaster. But necessity tooke away the sting from nature, and united them in the neerest friendship. For that there might not be left any tract of former discontent or path to future jealousie; a marriage was concluded and celebrated betweene. Prince Edward the Queenes sonne, and the Lady Anne younger Daughter to the Earle. And on this mar­riage was agreed that King Edward should be de­posed, King Henry re-inthrond, the Crowne to be entaild upon Prince Edward, and for default of his issue, to come to the Duke of Clarence and his posterity. By which conveighance humane po­licie did her part to perpetuate the succession of the Kingdome in the posterity of Warwicke, But the Almighty made a mockery of this Babell, which fell soone to ruine by selfe division, and confusion, not of Languages but affections. For the Duke of Clarence began now to consider how by following the Earles desperate Councells; he had gain'd nothing but the conscience of an unna­turall revolt, and how ruin'd he were if the suc­cesse of this enterprise should not be prosperous; and if prosperous how upon the destruction; of a brother, hee had built himselfe a lesse greatnesse, than he might have enjoy'd, without sinne or ha­zard. There being a vaste distance betweene the neerenesse of two sons to one mother, and onely husbands to two sisters▪ Neither had hee any sure [Page 60] ground for confidence, that when King Henry were restored; hereditary malice might not pre­vaile, and destroy him for the crime of his fami­ly. And now more than ever he found himselfe declin'd, being forc'd to submit not onely to War­kicke, but to a new young Prince; having before acknowledg'd no superiour but the King and him a brother. Neither was the Duchesse of Clarence her selfe a weake engine, on which this alteration moved. For however as a daughter she might wish prosperity to the attempts of Warwicke; yet ever since the last agreement of reinvesting the house of Lancaster in the Kingdome; shee found in her minde a strange alicnation from the Faction. And indeede either shee began to dislike the va­riety of her fathers resolutions, as whom ambiti­on led violently to build and plucke downe: or in conscience thought the justice of the claime was wholly in King Edward, having in her child­hood (and those impressions are ever deepest) beene instructed to affect the house of Yorke, and approve the title. Or (and that is the most proba­ble in a woman) she envied perhaps the prefer­ment of a younger sister; hating that Fortune should throw backe the priority of nature. How­ever it was, yet certainely by her meanes King Ed­ward labor'd to recall his brother, and though not suddenly yet in the end prevail'd. For having sent over a gentle woman (her sexe tooke away suspi­cion from the practise) with full instructions both to advice the Duchesse not to worke the ruine or at best the lessenning of her husband by those councells held then betweene Queene Margaret and the Earle of Warwicke, as like wise to promise (if shee perswaded her husband) to him [Page 61] and her as much love and greatnesse as the [...] of Nature, and so great a merit might justly chal­ledge: He in fine got a promise that, soone as the Duke were disintangled from his present ingage­ments, he would declare the naturall affection he owed a brother.

This weake hope, the late victory and see [...]ling ba [...]ishment of his enemies, loose [...]ed King Ed­ward to his accustomed wantonnesse and ri [...] For certainly never liv'd Prince whom adversitie did more harden to action; and prosperitie more sof­ten to volupt [...]ousnesse: So that by the judge­ment on his life, we may say, like a stone cast into the ayre, hee was by necessitie forst up to glo­ry; while his center remain'd beneath in the sence of pleasure: And so improvident was his me­mory, that he forgot the greatest injuries, and re­s [...]ed▪ the Archbishop of Yorke into favour, not hearing so much as a watchfull eye over a recon­cil'd enemy. By which his coun [...]iles were be­tray'd and he perswaded to a false and most dan­gerous securitie.

But the Duke of Bu [...]gundy, whose recreation was businesse, and whose delight, extent of domi­nion; who by having long [...]astled with Lewis the Eleventh, had lea [...]t all the slights of warre and peace, labor'd [...]o disper [...]e the storme before it fell upon England▪ Whel [...] [...]on hee daily adver­tiz'd King Edward of all passages in the Court of France, his intelligence holding good there, and who knew how neare danger came to him, should our King be overthrowne. Hee advis'd him by vast promises (which no way oblieg'd per­formance) to winne some; and [...]owing the poyso­nous [...]eede of aemulation, to recall others▪ As like­wise [Page 62] to send over some great Lord into France, who pretending discontent, shall adhere to the faction, and under hand discover all their coun­sailes. But above all he sollicited him to rigge up and set forth his Navie whereby to prevent their landing: Affirming it to bee a most ridiculous madnesse in a King (unlesse urged by inevitable necessitie) to stake his Crowne at a battaile, against the desperation of a rebell.

The King, contrary to this sober counsaile, ne­ver endeavour'd to hinder the returne of Warwick, but building on the protestations of the Marquesse M [...]ncatute, and the Archbishop of Yorke securely gave himselfe over to licenciousnesse. In which interim, the Earle, with his retinue, conducted by the Bastard of Burb [...], Admirall of France, saild backe into England; King Le [...]y [...] having furnisht him with a full supply of m [...]nies▪ and for shouldi­ers hee needed no [...]o [...]taine levies: his name and faction was so great at home. For though the Countrey by [...]ivill warre was much dispeopled, yet the commonalty, being for the most borne and bred up in tumults, were naturally addicted to armes, and prone upon any innovations to take the field. Neither could the Duke of Burgundy, though most passionately hee labor'd it, hinder the Earles landing by giving him battaile at Sea: for the winds fought for Warwick and disperst the Burg [...]nian fleete (the best in that age commanded upon the Se [...]) casting some ships upon the coast of Scotland, others upon the re [...]otest parts of Holland.

Neither did the King any way repent his error when hee understood the Earle was landed, but presently dispatcht a messenger to the Duke, in­treating [Page 63] him to continue his Army at Sea, to im­peach Warwicks flight backe into France, as if hee were ascertained fortune would never deny him victory. So secure was he growne by an overbold presumption, the bastard daughter of a long pro­speritie. But they whom experience had instru­cted to more caution, pittied his mistake and fore­saw the ruine. And he himselfe not long after un­derstanding how mightily the Earle increast in power, began to thinke his safetie brought into hazard. Which he much more beleeved when he found the Nobilitie, whom he summon'd to his aide, to excuse themselves; and the common streame of people to ebbe wholly from his de­votion.

And indeed, even in the Citie the adverse facti­on was growne so strong; that Doctor Gooddiard, Chaplaine to the Earle, at Pauls Crosse in his Ser­mon dared even to act the Herald, and conclude Edward an usurper. And thereupon to commend the most religious intentions of the Earle, and to exhort the Audience to joyne with him in re­storing their imprison'd Soveraigne King Hen­ry to his Scepter, and the Common wealth to li­bertie.

The credulous multitude tooke this heresie for true doctrine, and with some of the zealous igno­rant, it so farre prevailed, that in pure devotion they committed high treason. But would to God the Pulpit might onely speake things sacred; mat­ters of State having roome enough to bee discust in Councell Chambers, and other places erected for publike assemblies. For certainly how erro­nious soever the tenet bee, if utter'd there by a Priest with apparence of Religion, it gets two [Page 64] much authority in the eare, and too much ground upon the conscience. As this opinion did, which no sooner received, but all began to incline to revolt: and with the first retired away the late reconcild Archbishop and the Matquesse Montacute his brother, both having so often, and so ceremoniously vowed never to forsake the title of King Edward; and both now perfidiously breaking those vowes, and with the lowdest crying out, Long live King Henry.

The trechery of Mountacute, who having raisd in King Edwards name six thousand men turnd now with them to Warwicke, and the generall de­fection of the Land threw the King downe into extreame despaire. For those few Lords who con­stantly adheard to his declining fortune, com­manded over so small a number, that to resolve upon a battaile were to betray themselves to slaughter: And when misfortune drove their thoughts upon safetie by flight, they knew not whether to resolve: No Land being willing to receive that Prince, who is forc'd to flie his owne. But while his imaginations remaind thus confu­sed, he had hardly escapt a surprize in the night; had not his former misfortune served him now for instruction. And finding his stay onely begot disreputation to his quarrell, and danger to his person, he began his flight towards Lincolneshire. But the Earlesent after him his Light Horse, fol­lowing with the whole body of his Army; and so close did the Light Horse pursue him, that with much difficultie, and with losse of all his carriages in his passage thorough the Washes hee reacht Linne.

[Page 65]The Lord Hastings, faithfull to the King in all fortunes, and who had yet three thousand Horse under his command, stayd some short time be­hind: and now when he imagin'd the King past the reach of imminent danger, he dismist his For­ces and followed after. At parting he commen­ded the faith of the Souldiers to their Prince, which neverthelesse for the present hee advised them to dissemble. No present securitie, nor hope of doing after service, but by submission to the prevailing faction. Ere long he promis'd to re­turne, when a better fortune would invite them to show the loyaltie of their affections; the vio­lence of the storme being too mightie to conti­nue, and King Edward in faction at home and a­broad too potent, so easily to quit a kingdome; however for the present he withdrew himselfe a while.

Having exhorted thus his Souldiers, he obey­ed necessity, and by speedy flight went after the King. Who having hired three shippes, one of England and two of Holland, presently imbarked, having in his company the Duke of Glocester, the Earle Rivers, the Lords Scales and Say, and in re­tinue about one thousand. As soone as they were put to Sea, the King encounterd dangers great as he had escapt at Land. For the Easterlings (a peo­ple ever famed for Sea affaires and then at enmi­tie both with France and England) had set forth not long before some men of warre: Who ha­ving descrted these shippes and guessing them to be English, made saile after them. The King by benefit of the wind got first to the coast of Holland, and in regard it was ebbing water cast Anchor so neare the shore, the Easterlings (being shippes of [Page 66] farre greater burthen could not reach them:) But the next tide infallibly had exposed them a prize to the enemy, had not the Lord Gronteere, Lievete­nant for the Duke in Holland by meere accident beene at that time at Alquemare, a Sea towne close joyning to them. He▪ soone as he understood that those three small vessels carried in them the for­tune of England, commanded the Easterlings to forbeare hostility, and licence those passengers a quiet landing. And presently himselfe came abord the Kings shippe, expressing in the obsequious­nesse of his respects as much ceremony and love, as was due to so great a Majestie, and the bro­ther in law to his Prince. And no sooner had he attended the King ashore, and found how unpro­vided of all things necessary, the suddennesse of his flight had made him and his followers; but he furnisht him and them according to their qua­lity and want. For the Kings escape was so hasty that not onely his apparell and other furniture were lost or left behind, but even his treasure: So that to defray the charge of his transportation he was necessitated to give the Master of the ship a Gowne furr'd with Martins: And remaine be­holding to the Lord Gronteere for his expences to the H [...]ge, whether hee was conducted to expect the comming of the Duke. Who soone as he had perfect knowledge of the Kings so ruinous suc­cesse in England, and arrived in Holland as to a San­ctuary, began to repent his so neare alhance, and cast about how to close with the adverse faction. And now indeede his time was to act the most cunning part of subtletie, by endeavouring to re­taine the good opinion of his brother in Law, and yet secure himselfe from hostilitie with the [Page 67] Earle of Warwicke. Whereupon before ever hee came to the Hage he dispatcht his Agent to Callice, to show the chiefe of the towne, that the peace heretofore concluded betweene King Edward and himselfe, was no way personall: But betweene whatsoever Princes should rule in either domi­nions, and betwixt nation and nation: and there­fore by no change of King or length of time dis­solvable. Vpon which consideration hee intrea­ted (for loath he was at the same time, to wrastle both with France and England) that the name of Edward might bee changed into Henry, and the former league continue sacred as before.

The unsetled state of England and the univer­sall desires of the Merchants of the S [...]aple at Callice soone affected the Dukes purpose. For they who had continuall traffique into the Low Countries, and vented all their wooll to the subjects of the Duke, had beene unabled to pay their usuall tri­bute to the King, if free intercourse had beene denyed. Whereupon unwilling to discontent and impoverish so great a body at home, and too hastily to run into a dangerous quarrell with a most potent enemy abroad, the Earle for the pre­sent dissembled his inveterate hatred, and recal'd his Souldiers who had spoyld all the Dukes terri­tory bordering upon Callice. And that the Duke might make himselfe strong in a faction potent with the present time, hee renewed his friend­ship with the Dukes of Sommerset and Exceter; whom hee solicited earnestly to endeare him to King Henry, and revive in him the memory of their so neare kindred. To acquaint him how zealous himselfe and his father had ever beene for the honour and safetie of the family of Lancaster, in [Page 68] which himselfe did so much participate. As like­wise to promise all the perfect offices of a conse­derate and neighbour, if so bee that his faith­full intentions might receive a true interpre­tation.

This did the Dukes voluntarily offer to nego­tiate; Sommerset in respect of propinquity in blood, Exceter of those many favours received in the Low Countries during his so miserable exile: Both out of an extreame malice to the Earle of Warwicke, who had subverted their families; and to whose ayde, they envied the King should owe his restitution. And easily was the Duke brought upon good termes with King Henry; his neigh­berhood and friendship being of so notable con­sequence, and the very apparence of disclayming the adverse partie (what secret ayde soever hee af­forded) being so disadvantageous to any pretence King Edward might have to renew the warre.

This aspect, full of a smiling flattery, did the Duke of Burgundy beare to the present fortune of the state. While upon King Edward he cast such a supercilious look, as the worlds wise men usually doe upon men in adversitie. Often sharpely hee reprehended his so great carelesnesse, and neglect of wholesome advice, which had ruin'd him to this so wretched flight. Hee objected the much contempt this misfortune would throw upon his quarrell, and how loath friends would bee to ad­here to his present necessities, since hee knew so ill to manage profperitie. Yet remembring that hereafter there might happily be a change in for­tune, he often chang'd his humour, and amid these reprehensions mingled some passionate comple­ments of love. Hee protested seriously that hee [Page 69] wisht all happinesse to his affaires; to advance which he would neglect no industry: yet he desi­red his pardon if for the present hee dissembled. Considering it might at once draw on a warre from his two most dangerous neighbours, Eng­land and France: Against both which nations should he be necessitated to a quarrell, hee should be very unable to defend himselfe; much lesse to serve another. And when a Proclamation was set forth by the Duke prohibiting his subjects any way to ayde the pretences of King Edward or his faction, and that it was with much indignation received by the King: he protested the intention of it to be onely to betray King Henry to an unsafe security, that in the interim he might without su­spition levie a greater ayde for his designes. King Edward (whom a short adversitie had already in­structed much) appeard to take the false coine of these excuses for currant, and by example of the Duke practis'd to dissemble. But after this time it was noted that he never bore the Duke so sin­cere affection as before. Princes best maintai­ning a nere friendship, by keeping at large di­stance: jealousie and aemulation take their growth with familiaritie; and if eyther be necessitated to demand supply, reason of state oftentimes wea­kens love, and roots up good nature

To increase King Edwards discontent abroad, no newes came from England but what spoke ab­solute ruine to his hopes. For though here hee heard first the comfort of his being father to a sonne, yet was this sonne borne poorely in San­ctuary, and christned without the ceremonies be­longing to a Prince, and if fortune beyond ex­pectation alterd not, heire apparent onely to his [Page 70] fathers misery. Neither did that wild insurrecti­on of the men of Kent, which ensued presently upon his flight effect any thing, or so much as openly pretend for King Edward. But some dis­order'd companies gathering into one, hoped to fish faire in the troubled streame of the King­dome, and by the advantage of the present di­straction of state to purchase treasure to them­selves. Whereupon they directed their march (if such straglers can bee said to march) towards London; where by the Earle of Warwick and the Lord Major they were soone supprest, and some for the generall terror, made examples in their punishment. But after this all things tended pre­sently to quiet, and King Henry set at libertie went in solemne procession to Pauls Church, the Clergy, Nobility, and Commonalty reacknow­ledging all obedience to him. And, as if there were left no memory of King Edward or hope to re­establish his title, every man addrest himselfe to King Henry, and all his former servants recover'd their lost honours and places. But that this might not appeare to be the act of faction, but the uni­versall consent of the Kingdome, a Parliament was summond: wherein nothing was denied, which the prevailing partie thought fit to be au­thoriz'd.

King Edward therefore and all his adherents were attainted of high treason, their lands and goods confiscated. He and his posterity for ever disabled to inherit not onely the Crowne, but any other hereditary estate; His claime to the kingdome rejected as a most unjust pretention, and his former government condemn'd as of ti­rannous usurper. And that there might be a great [Page 71] example of their justice, John Tiptoft Earle of Wor­cester, Lord high Constable of, England (having beene apprehended in the Forrest of Waibrige on the top of a high tree▪ which exprest the preci­pice of his fortune) was on the Tower bill behea­ded.

Next they proceeded to intaile the Crowne upon King Henry and his beires males, for default of which to George Duke of Clarence and his heires forever. By which in [...]ile the [...]arle of Warwicke showed not onely the extent but the insolency of his greatnesse i [...] if the title of the kingdome ap­pertained to them who were nearest in alliance to him, not next in blood to the Crowne. For if the justice of Lancasters claime had the prehemi­nence for w [...]t of issue of King Henry, why should not the sove [...]inty fall to the Duke of So [...] ­iner [...]set? Or i [...]ha [...] line were crooked in respect of ba [...]idie, why not to the house of Portugall; with­out any blemish des [...]ending from John of G [...]int? Or if the house of Yorke bad the better title, why was George Duke of Clarence th [...] set downe but second in the li [...]ile: Or if the right were in Was wick himselfe (for his power order'd and dis­order'd all) why was the kingdome to descend first of all to the younger daughter? But prepo­sterous ambition never knew how to give: an ac­count to reason.

Their were [...]he [...]le [...] of Oxford P [...]brooke, and m [...]y other [...] restored to their [...]states and [...]il [...]s, and [...]he Duke of Clarence (that greater hopes [...]ight [...] invite him to re [...]st to his brother) possest of the Dutchy of Yorke.

And lastly, the government of the King and kingdome [...]o [...]mitted to the Duke of Clarence and [Page 72] the Earle of Warwick: so that King Henry (in whose best of fortune it was never to possesse more then the name of King) seem'd not to be set at libertie, but onely to have changed his keeper, and get his prison somewhat more enlarged. But Queene Margaret and Prince Edward, though by the Earle recald, found their fate an [...] the winds so adverse, that they could not land in England, & to taste this running banquet to which fortune had invted them. And stayd so long by necessity; that dis [...] ­tion instructed them, in the end there was no hope of felicitie, scarce of safeti [...] in then re­turne.

The re-establishment of King Henry in the king­dome by the universall acclamation of the Parlia­ment, and the generall silence of [...] other [...]i­on [...] no man so much as mentio [...] [...] [...] of Yorke to [...]led [...]h [...] servour of respect with which the Duke of Burgundy had a [...] [...]st imbraced [...]g Edward. Especially which the t [...]ison'd [...] Mou [...] ­si [...]ur [...]itleere was apparens for of [...]ice [...] the King and the Duke ever thought themselves se­cure; he having declared himself [...] for faithfully, they rewarded him so liberally, But [...]ow the [...]ay­tor turn'd his i [...] outward, and with the lou­dest proclay [...] [...] joy for the prosperitie of War­wicke: And so farre did vanitie of his former ser­vices betray him, that he boasted even hi [...] treason for merit. And what ev [...]age [...] the King sent to him, he rejected with s [...]e to [...]se [...]ne [...]iable affront▪ hee wore enamel'd i [...] his [...] h [...] the Beare and ragge [...] staffe, the Earles [...] ­zance.

The neglect which accompanied his adversitie made the King wea [...]y of any [...]uither dependa [...]e [...], [Page 73] and urge the Duke to have licence for departing. For although the Dutchesse neglected no duty of a sister, and wooed him most passionately to a longer stay; yet so little had his fortune instru­cted him to patience, that neither love nor fright of danger could detaine him longer. For the Duke was distemperd with such an ague of discur­tesie, that those fits which before came but every third or fourth day, became now quotidian, nei­ther knew the King to how high and dangerous a malice the disease in time might rise. His im­portunitie therefore in the end prevail'd, and un­derhand obtain'd a large supply of money, and some men. Foure great Shippes of Holland, and foureteene of the Easterlings men of warre well arm'd, he hired for the transportation of his For­ces: Which consisted of the English who accom­panied him in his flight and had escaped over after him, and two thousand Dutch men. With the Shippes hee convenanted, that they should serve him till fifteene dayes after his landing; and to the Dutch Souldiers hee gave such large promises, that they vowed their lives to the greatest crueltie of his Fortune.

At Ravenspur in Yorke-shire he landed, where the people naturally devoted to the house of Lan­caster (showed in the malice of their lookes, what evill lucke they wisht him) though they wanted courage with their armes to oppose him.

Which so dismall aspect made him more wary in his march to Yorke, fearing it might presage the generall rising of the Countrey. But when hee came thither and found the Citizens so well pleas'd with the present state, and so in their opi­nion confirm'd for King Henry, hee began to de­spaire [Page 74] the recovery of the Crowne. And in that resolution perceiving them obstinate beyond any hope of remove, fashion'd his behaviour to a new art. Whereupon since he could not move them to obedience by the authority of his unque­stion'd right to the Crowne; by relation of his present calamitie, he perswaded them to compas­sion. So that whom they refused to serve as King, which had beene an act of loyalty; they conde­scended to aide as Duke of Yorke, which was ab­solute rebellion. It being high treason in a Sub­ject, though never so apparently injured, to seeke his remedy by armes. And by the sence of his owne misfortunes, he made his Oratory so pow­erfull, that all began to exclaime against the inju­stice of the last Parlament in conferring the Dut­chy of Yorke, which by right of primogeniture be­long'd to Edward, upon his second Brother George, Duke of Clarence. Which Act could not be ima­gined, freely granted by the Parliment, but extor­ted by the overgreat sway of Warwicke: And had Edward by usurpation of the Crowne, deserv'd so heavy an attainder; He might yet quit himselfe from the crime, having beene incenc'd thereunto not by his owne ambitious desire of raigne, but by the instigation of Warwicke. Who no longer would suffer the government of his King, then the King knew how to obey his insolent direction. And who had thus planted and supplanted Prin­ces, not out of love to Iustice, but onely thereby to transplant the Soveraignety into his owne Fa­mily.

Thus the Commonalty argued for Edward, and made him yet partake in the fortune of a Prince, by not permitting him to beare the burthen of his [Page 75] own faults and that he might recover the [...]tchy belonging to his family many persons of power and name resorted to him, be solemnely swearing never to attempt hereafter the re-obtaining of the kingdome. The same oath swore Henry of Bulling­brooke when pretending to the Dutchy of Lancaster he landed in the North & arm'd against King Ri­chard, which he brok as Edward after did upon the like advantage. So that with humilitie we ought to wonder at the judgements of the Almightie, who permitted perjurie now to unbuild the great nesse of Lancaster, which at first was built by per­jury.

Leaving therefore a Garrison in Yorke (a safe retreat upon the worst occasion) hee marcht to­ward [...]do [...] about which place he had ever found his fortune most benigne. And confidently led on his Forces (which could not deserve the name of Army) although the Marque [...]e Mountague with a farre superior power lay then [...] Po [...]fret to im­peach his journey. Nigh which when King Ed­ward came expecting battaile; Mountague who had both abilitie and opportunitie to have destroyd him, let him quietly passe, not permitting any act of hostilitie to be showed, or advantage ta­ken.

This grosse oversight in so absolute a command received severall interpretations, according to the complexion of the men discourst it. The more Religious who favord King Edwards title thought Almighty God, intending to set the Crowne up­on the right head, had infatuated the counsells of his enemies: The more vulgar judged it cowar­dize in the Marquesse which durst not fight a­gainst that Majestie for which hee had so often [Page 76] [...]ought, and against a Prince who ha [...] never beene in [...]a [...]taile but victoriou [...]li But the [...] [...] in diffe­rent esteemed it a peece of over cunning (which in the event i [...] ever folly) to let his forces passe, whereby after hee might inclose him [...] [...] [...] and his brothers army, and so without [...] [...] destroy him, or else son [...]e intelligence which [...] ­ore [...] held with King Edward [...]o who [...] love and be [...]ef [...] [...] owed so much. Whence this [...] ­stake proceeded, I will not dispute, but certainly it served well to the Kings purpose had safetie and received [...]omd [...] the Earle of Warwicke and his facti­on no other name then of falshood and trea [...] ­ [...]on.

King Edward was no sooner past this danger but at any of the Nobility with mightie [...] re­ [...] to him [...]her des [...]o [...] of another [...] ­on of [...]thro [...] [...] having found their expectation dri [...] [...] [...] [...]: [...] directed by their better A [...]g [...]ll to [...] to that side which ever [...] as [...]o [...] just and suddenly, more likely to be [...] [...]orto [...]e. But before they would solemnely de­clare themselves, they intreated and soone pre­wail'd with him to cast off the poore intention to a Dutchy, and lay his challenge to, what was his inheritance, the kingdome. For it would lessen, even to contempt, the great reputation of his birth and [...] victories; to let the people perceive that a short ecclipse of fortune had made him fall so low, as to depose himselfe from the Roy [...]loie. Neither could they justifie their taking armes to settled subject in his inheritance. Since the Law is open to and such controversies, and if he would subject himselfe to the Law, the last Parliament, [...] forever disabled him from any such claime.

[Page 77]Weaker arguments would have beene of pow­er enough to have perswaded his great Spirit: but by these he was confirm'd in his owne thoughts: and with the title of King, and a [...] Arm [...]archt directly to Coventry, fier [...]e in his desire to give War­wicke batt [...]ile, who lay there [...]ncamp [...]. But no provocation could bring him from his [...]renches, knowing his Army divided, and those forces he had there undeo his command, unequall to main­taine fight with the King. For the Marquesse Mountagae was not yet return'd from the North: and the Duke of Clarence, though often and ear­nestly sollicited excused himselfe, and kept his power apart. So reservd way in them, made War­wicke begin to hold both in suspition, but most of all Clarence, whose Forces were so neare and in so good order, that there could bee no excuse but in the unpreparednesse of his mind.

The King therefore perceiving no thing could force Warwicke upon uneven termes to fight, marcht against Clarence, and soone as hee drew neare, both Armies prepared for the incounter. But as a plot in a well contrived Comedy is so cun­ningly wrought that it discovers not it selfe till the last Scene, and then expectation acknowledged her selfe deluded by invention. So this reconci­liation betweene the brothers agreed on long be­fore, on the sudden now broke forth when all outward apparences threatned hostilitie. For the Duke of Glocester and other Lords seeming to ab­horre the inhumane nature of the prepared bat­taile, past often formally betweene the brothers, and urged them by all respects both religious and polliticke to prevent a quarrell so ruinous and so scandalous to both: wherein the triumph could [Page 78] not be but almost destruction to the Conqu [...]ror. After much mediation and much seeming relecta­tion, that was in the end concluded, which had long before beene resolved on. And the Duke of Clarence submitting himselfe to King Edward, brought with him all those forces which upon Warwicks reputation, much more then upon his owne, he had raisd. But that in this agreement he might not appeare to forget the office of a sonne in Law and a friend, he joyntly with the King sent to intreat the Earle to enter league with them; for confirmation of that title which himselfe had first defended; and to avoid the effusion of so much blood as this quarrell must necessarily draw. For conditions he himselfe should set downe his owne; knowing hee would be so rationall in his demands, as to require nothing above the decorum of a subject to aske, or a Prince to grant.

But Warwicke had a spirit too stubborne to bow downe to any conditions, which himselfe had not beene the first proposer of: and as an injury threw backe all offers of curtesie. And now too late he began to curse the error of his indulgency; which had added power to these brothers onely for his owne destruction. From Edward he could expect no safetie, for hee deserv'd it not; having canceld all former obligations by his last revolt, by which he forc'd him to so hazardous a flight, and from George he could not look for a true faith, con­sidering for the only apparence of better hopes he had heretofore broke it even with a brother. And from both what thought of perfect friendship, unlesse (and that his nature could never suffer) he would fall beneath his former height; in which [Page 79] should hee continue, suspition would never let him remaine secure from danger. That subject scarse never having beene reputed innocent, in whose power it was to be nocent.

Whereupon King Edward, by all the charmes of former friendship and promise of future, una­ble to lay the spirit that raged in Warwicke; left him obstinate in the prosecution of his owne de­signes: And accompanied with his late reconcild brother and followed by a gallant Army marcht to London. Where the Citizens out of conscience of their late oath taken so solemnly to King Henry, made some show of resistance: but soone the care of their owne safetie absolvd them from that scru­ple, instructing them that oaths by feare retorted lay no obligation upon the soule. And with much alacritie they yeelded up their City together with the person of King Henry, reserv'd still to be made the sport of fortune. For certainly history showes us not an example of any Prince, who in so many vicissitudes, never met with one fully to his ad­vantage. So that justly wee might have condemnd him for unhappy, had he not beene endued with such a piety as raisd him above his fortune, and united him to God.

At his entrance into the Citie as generall ap­plause entertaind King Edward, all those inhabi­tants who had covertly wisht happy successe to his affaires, now openly expressing their triumph; The Queene and those many of the Kings nearest followers, who for the space of six moneths had secured themselves in Sanctuary, running forth to congratulate their owne, in his restitution. And even in this generall alacritie concurd the vowes of many Merchants, natives and forrainers, who [Page 80] before had hated him and supplyed King Henry with money to his destruction. For the King out of the easinesse of his naturall disposition, and a desire that at this universall triumph there should not be a sad looke so much as among his enemies, gave their offences a generall pardon. Onely let­ting them understand that hee knew both the va­lue of his owne mercy and of the greatnesse of their forfeitures, their ayding the contrary faction having lost them their estates and liberties, and in rigor their lives. Neither was this an unhappy pollicy in him, to obliege many by the forgiving that, the extremity of which had he taken (his businesse being then so unsetled) might have en­dangered a mutiny in the City, upon the first ap­proach of the enemy.

Having therefore by his happy fortune com­forted his friends and by his clemency wonne up­on the affection of the rest; and so setled the Town to his obedience, that he suspected no danger at his backe: he led forth his Army to oppose the Earle of Warwicke, who having reunited his scat­ [...]erd forces by easie marches was come to Saint A [...]ban. The reason of bringing his power so neare London was a confidence hee had, his reputation among the inhabitants would draw many to his part, or at least so divide them that they should be no advantage to the King. But the King jealous of their levitie, as who had knowne them (how af­fectionate soever they profitted themselves to his fortune) siding still with the prevailer, interposed his Army betweene the Citie and the enemy: whereby he cut off even the possibilitie of intelli­gence. And that the presence of King Henry might not be the occasion of any tumul [...] in London, nor [Page 81] his escape adde such [...] Warwicks quarrell, o [...] hereafter [...] danger a f [...]er warre, hee [...] o [...] hi [...] to the battaile▪ Where by the poore dis [...]st King, what side so [...]e prevai [...] ▪ was mo [...]lly certaine of destruction.

Vpon a Plai [...] neare [...]rner [...] way betweene London and Sai [...] Alban the King pitcht his field. The [...] commanded by the Duke of Gloce­ster, the Rere by the Lord [...], [...]he maine bat­taile by himselfe. To the common Souldier hee­ded no incouragement of words, the great exam­ples of their Leaders was the best Oratory. And no [...]e of them but understood their lives, estates, and liberties, at [...]he [...]take: Their [...]inc [...] if over­thrown [...], every day [...]o [...] [...]lilo [...] to produce new troubles, and new dangers; [...], a full [...] of this warre, with [...] and tri­umph▪

On the other side the Earle of Warwicke with as bol [...] [...]. The right Wing which consisted of Horse, he committed to the Earle of Oxford, in whose company [...]ought the Marquesse Mountague: The le [...] to the Duke of Exe­ter; and the maine [...]ar [...]l [...] which was composed of Bills and Bowes (the best sin [...]es of o [...] English strength) to the Duke of Sommerset▪ Hee himselfe giving direction in every quarter. And when hee had [...] his whole hoste, and liked both their order and their courage, hee [...] away his Horse, resolving to fig [...] o [...] foote▪ and that day to try the u [...]most of his fortune; pref [...]i [...]g [...] his imagina­tions no meane betweene victory and death. Then be lovingly in bear'd [...] those great Commanders, in every of wh [...] appearid a [...]solution equall to the cause▪ And having by [...] protestations de­clared [Page 82] their sincere faith and forwardnesse to the present service, every man bet [...]ke himselfe to his severall charge. Nothing extra [...]dinary to be [...] observed in ordering the field on eit [...]er side, but that neither George Duke of Clarence, nor the Mar­quesse Mountague commanded any way in chiefe that day: So impossible it was to extirpate that su­spition, which by their fo [...]mer actions had take [...] roote in their brothers minds.

It was Faster day in the morning (a day too sa­cred to be profaned with so much blood) when both Armies addrest themselves to fight. That for the King tooke courage from the justice of their quarrell, and the fortune of their Prince. That of the Earle from the long experience and noble va­lour of their Leader, and from the pietie of him for whose redemption that day they had brought their lives to the hazard. Both fought for their Kings, both Kings having beene crown▪d, and by severall Parliament [...] acknowledged And indeede the question was so subtill, that even among Di­vines it had held long, and at that day remained not absolutely decided. No marvell then if the common souldier had on both sides the same assu­rance of truth, since if they have any, their faith for the most is led by the direction of their Gene­rall. Both Armies therefore had equall justice, which made them with equall fiercenesse begin and continue the fight.

Six houres the victory was doubtfull; advanta­ges and disadvantages indifferent on both sides: [...]ill at length errour brought disorder to War­wicks Army, and that a finall overthrow. For the Earle of Oxford giving his men a star with streames for his device begot in the Army a mistake that [Page 83] they were part of the enemy whose badge was the Sunne: and which mistake might easily hap­pen by the thicke mist that morning; wherefore being in the right wing, and pressing forward they were thought King Edwards men flying, which made their owne maine battaile fall fiercely on them in the backe. Whereupon Oxford suspecting treason in Warwicke (whose haughtie and reserved wayes were ever lyable to suspition) fled away with eight hundred men, and King Edward with certaine fresh troopes of Rutters for some such purpose reserv'd, perceiving disorder in the ene­my violently assaulted them, and soone forc'd them to shrinke backe. Warwicke opposed against their feare both with language and example; but when nothing could prevaile, hee rusht into the thickest of the enemies; hoping either his whole Army would bravely follow, or otherwise by death to prevent the misery of see [...]ng himselfe overthrowne. Mountague perceiving how farre in­to danger his brother was engaged, ran violent­ly after to his rescue, and both presently opprest with number fell, and with them the spirit of the Army. In their deaths they both cleard those ca­lumnies with which they were blemisht. Warwicke of having still a swift horse in readines by flight to escape from any apparent danger in battaile: Moun­tague of holding intelligence with King Edward, or betraying at Pomfret the quarrell of his great brother. For it is to be rejected as a fable forged by malice, that history which reports the Marquesse having put on King Edwards livery, slaine by one of Warwicks men, and the Earle labouring to escape, at a Woods side where was no passage, kild and spoild to the naked skin by two of King [Page 84] Edwards souldiers. Yet both of them in their deaths partaking with the common condition of men; the poore being ever esteemed as vicious, the overthrowne as cowards. By which judgement wee impiously subject the Almighty disposer of humane bussinesse to our depraved affections, as if felicity or in felicity were the touchstone by which we might discerne the true value of the in­ward man.

King Edward soone as he saw the discomfiture of the enemy and certainly understood the death of the two brothers: that himselfe might bee the first reporter of his owne fortune, with King Hen­ry in his company poasted up to London. He came into Saint Pauls Church at even Song, and there offered up his owne banner, and the standard of the Earle of Warwicke; the trophies of his morning service: where waited on him an universall accla­mation, the flattering shadow which never for­sakes victory.

To the Duke of Clarence and the Duke of Gloce­ster was left the care to quarter the Souldiers: whose enquiry soone found that on both sides that day were slaine foure thousand six hundred and od [...]e. On the Kings side of eminency onely the Lords Burcher and Barnes, hee sonne and heire to the Earle of Essex, this to the Lord Say: On the other side were kild the Earle of Warwicke and the Marquesse Mountague attended with three and twenty Knights. The Duke of Exeter, who by his many wounds was reported dead, recoverd life: but was never more seene in action; his body after some length of time being cast upon the shore of Kent; as if he had perisht by shipwracke: the man­ner of his after life and death left uncertaine in story.

[Page 85]To this violent end came the Earle of Warwick, the greatest and busiest subject our later age hath brought forth. And indeed how was it possible such a stormie life, could expect a calmer death? In his Spirit, birth, marriage, and revenue he was mighty: which raised his thoughts above propor­tion. For all these benefits of nature and fortune serv'd him onely as instruments to execute his rage; into which every small displeasure taken or mistaken from his Prince, threw him head-long. His bounty extended it selfe most in hospitality, which was dangerous to the guest, for his meate was infected with the poyson of Faction. The o­pen ayme of all his actions was at the Publicke good, which made his power still recover strength, though so often weakend by evill For­tune: but his secret intention was to advance his owne greatnesse, which he resolv'd to purchase though with sale of the publicke safety. He was questionlesse valiant, for a coward durst not have thought those dangers, into which he entred up­on the slightest quarrels. His soule was never qui­et, distasted still with the present: and his pride like a foolish builder, so delighted to pull downe and set up, that at length part of the [...]rame him­selfe had raised, fell upon him and crusht him to death. He was a passionate extoller of continen­cie in a Prince, which proceeded rather from spleene than zeale: because in that he tacitely made the King contemptible for his volup [...]uous life. Be­ing bred up from a child in Armes (the worst schoole to learne Religion in) hee had certainely no tender sence of justice: and his varying so in approving contrary titles, shewed either a strange levity in judgement, or else that ambition not [Page 86] conscience ruled his actions. The pretences of his revolt from King Edward, were neither to the world politicke nor to himselfe honest. For what greater hopes could he conceive by restoring a fa­mily himselfe had ruind? since injuries make so deepe an impression, that no after curtesie can take it away? Or how could any violence offer'd to his Daughters honour by the King (for that was then by him pretended) licence him to war? since no injustice in a Soveraigne can authorize the subject to Rebellion. But who will give a true account of his latter attempts, must looke backe upon his first familiarity with Lewis the ele­venth. For never had France such a Merchant to vent discord in forraigne Kingdomes, and buy up the faith of all the greatest Officers to neighbo­ring Princes. But when by the most powerfull engins of pollicie and warre, he had screwed up his intentions to the highest, by making himselfe King in Authority though not in title, the Crown being entailed upon the two Princes, who had married his Daughters: Almighty God in one overthrow ruin'd him, and permitted his Sonnes in Law, with their wives not long after to end by strange deathes, none of them answering his hope, but the younger Daughter and that prepo­sterously to his designe. For she indeede by mar­rying Richard Duke of Glocester, the butcher of her husband Prince Edward, became Queene to an Vsurper; and soone after by poyson (as it was justly suspected) made resignation of her Crown. His Grand-children by Clarence, who arriv'd to any age, dyed by the Axe upon a Scaffold; and all that greatnesse he so violently labor'd to confirme in his posterity, by violent deathes was reduced [Page 87] to nothing: The large River of his blood divided now into many streames, some so small, they are hardly observ'd as they flow by.

Of his brother the Marquesse Mountague little can be cleerely spoken: so reserv'd were his ima­ginations and so obscure his wayes: especially to us who looke on him so farre off, and with so im­perfect a light. Neither of himselfe can he afford much to story, having never beene but second in any businesse of moment: and like some poore gamster seldome or never play'd his own Cards. He had certainely as much valour and dissimulati­on, as rendred him both a perfect Souldier and Courtier. He never miscarried in any battaile, till the last, in which he perisht: so that indifferently we may ascribe to his good conduct and fortune, the prosperity of his successe: His affections being divided betweene a King and a brother, made him suffer that misfortune that ever attends neutrality: Though indeede he may be rather sayd to have beene for both, than neither. His nature was no­thing so stubborne as his brothers; which perhaps was bended to plausibility, by the dependances of his fortune. The comportment of men s [...]ldome swelling to a distastfull pride, unlesse from the very cradle flattered with respect, without the competi­tion of an equall. He abhord peace, whose strict rules circumscrib'd him within the narrow limits of his owne revenue: and loved warre which cal­led not his expences to accoumpt; and equal'd, if not elevated him above those great men, whom he must have envied in a quiet s [...]ate. In a word, the dispositions of these two Brothers are b [...]st dis­covered to us by the King himselfe▪ of whom Warwicke was still either esteemed or hated, [Page 88] Mountague loved, or pittied.

The affection which King Edward bore [...] Moun­tague, during life, appeared by the good language he alwaies used of him, even when in Armes a­gainst him, which perhaps occasion'd some jealo­sie of his faith in Warwicke▪ And after death in permitting his and for his sake, his brothers bo­die the honour of a convenient buriall. For after they had both laine two or three dayes bare-fac'd in S^t ▪ P [...]uls Church, exposed a spectacle obnocti­ous to such passions, as the beholders were incli­ned to either by Nature or Faction: they were carryed downe to the Priory of Bisham: Where among their Ancestors by the mothers side Earles of Salisbury, the two unquiet brothers rest in one Tombe.

Queen Margaret now when it was too late Lan­ded [...] Waimouth, having in her retinue some few French Forces, the warie King Lewis loath to ven­ture much upon an after game of fortune. And here when she expected the acclamations of tri­umph, she first received the newes of Warwicke slaine and his Armie defeated. Which to her mind, prepared then to have some taste of happinesse, was so sad a distraction, that she knew not which way to direct her resolutions. At length despera­tion forc'd her to the common poore refuge of Sanctuary. And in Bewlye in Hampshire, a monaste­ry of Cist [...]rcian Monkes she registred her selfe, her sonne, and followers for persons priviledg'd. To her in this ago nie of soule came Edmond Duke of Sommerset (who had escap'd from the overthrow at Barnet) with his brother the Lord John Bewfort, Iohn Courtney Earle of Devonshire (brother to Tho­mas who taken at Towt [...]n field was beheaded at [Page 89] Yorke) Iasper Earle of P [...]mbrooke, younger sonne of Owen T [...]uther by Queene Katherine Dowager, John Longs [...]other Lord Prior of S^t. Johns, and John Lord Wenlocke who had received his first advancement to honour by his great Services to King Edwa [...]d, and [...]ow by the folly of his ingratitude, had be­tray [...] himselfe to a ruinous Faction.

These Noble personages greater farre in the re­putation of what they had, or might have beene, than in their present power, labour'd what they could by their comfort and presence to raise up the Queene, sunck with the weight of her misfortunes. They related to her the hopes shee yet might re­taine in the amitie with France, and authoritie she had in England: multitudes yet surviving, vvhom if not affection to the title, desperation of their owne fortunes, and safety of their persons, would necessitate to take armes. All overthro [...]es rather sowing, then taking away the seeds of warre. Nei­ther if she lookt in differently upon the last battle, had she reason to be disconsolate. For if shee re­flected on the number of the slaine, it was not considerable; Or upon the death of the Generall the Earle of Warwicke: Shee might receive that losse as a benefit. He having beene indeed a cru­ell enemy; but never but an insolent friend: Whose fortune had it continued prosperous as it began, it might have beene a question whether the [...]arle of Marches or his [...]surpation would have beene the more insupportable. They urged far­ther the authority Sommerset; Devonshire, the Lord Prior, and Wenlooke had in England, and the mul­titudes Pembrooke might arme in Wales. But a­bove all, what a confluence of the boldest youth would be to the Prince, would hee but take the [Page 90] field, and appeare in his owne quarrell. Nothing having advanc'd the title of Yorke, but Marches pre­sence in all battles: or [...]o [...]d the reputation of Laucaster, but King Henries unactive piety, and fighting still by Deputies. The Souldier thinking it desperation for them to hazard their lives, where the Prince, whom it concernes, timerously refuseth to stake his owne.

But all these arguments exemplified by the most perswasive Oratory, could not recover the sad Queene to a perfect life in her spirit. For either so many disasters, and falling so thicke together, made her despaire successe: Or else the soule be­fore a great mischiefe hath a certaine divining knowledge of future accidents. And now she be­ganne to thinke that small time her husband had beene re-invested in the Kingdome, was but a lightning before the death of all loveraignety in his Family. Yet when she looked upon the Prince, hope flatter'd her desires, that he might hereafter revive the greatnesse of his blood: but then the memory of forepast misfortunes, made her a me­lancholly Prophetesse of future r [...]ine. Howso­ever the objects of her thoughts were dismall, shee dissembled them, and was as busie in all polli­ticke contrivances, and as forward in setting forth the armie as the most resolute Commander. But when she perceived the Lords earnest to have the Prince present in the battle; shee violently oppo­sed. [...]n respect of his youth, want of experience, and the so mighty venter. For if he perisht in this storme, even hope it selfe would in him be ship­wrack'd. She therefore urged earnestly to have him reconvai'd into France, where in safety hee might attend the successe of the present enterprise: [Page 91] which if unprosperous, hee might there r [...]maine, till by the increase of yeares and powre, he might be inabled to fight his owne quarrell. But the con­trary opinion over-ruled in her all the passions, both of a woman, and a Mother; and h [...]ving al­re [...]dy lost so much at this play of fortune, shee was perswaded like a desperate ga [...]er, to ha [...]rd at one cast the remainder of all her stocke.

Having therefore yeelded to this resolution, she leaves the Sanctuary and pu [...]s her selfe in armes: The very name of Prince Edward, like an ada­mant, attracted multitudes to the warre. Her companies immediately▪ s [...]ee advanced to Both, where the Duke of Sommerset, and the [...]arle of De [...]vonshire were high in reputation; and by whose Authority dayly new for [...]es came into the Princes service. Yet were they not growne to so full a number, as might incourage the Queen to thinke upon a battle. Whereupon she keep [...]s her selfe in the Towne, untill the comming of Jasp [...] Earle of Pembrooke, upon the addition of which Wel [...]h Forces, she resolved to take the field, and encoun­ter King Edward.

Who soone as he had perfect intelligence of her resolutions, gathered his army together, which he (ever too confident of peace, so amourously cou [...] ­ted by him) had after the victory at Dar [...], licen­ced to disperse it selfe. And with so unexpected suddennesse he made his preparations, that before the returne of Pembrooke, he incamped at Mar [...]ebo­rough, within fifteene miles of Bath: and by the interposition of his Army, hindered all su [...]urs could come to the enemy from Wales. Which so neere approach distracted the resolutions of the Queene, and made her suspect her safety, if shee [Page 92] remained longer there▪ Wherefore the retired to Bristow, from whence she sent to the Lord B [...]u­champe, of [...]o [...]y [...], who had the keeping both of the City and Castle of Glocester, to desire passage over [...]ne there [...] [...]ed, her, and [...]or [...]ed her to [...] up [...]o [...] [...]ry, there to endeavour to crosse the [...].

In her way [...]ther, as she past by Glocester, which in [...] she durst [...] assaul [...], though by the former [...] provoked: he taking advan­tage of the place and some disorder in the Queenes Re [...]eward, fell suddenly upon it and carryed a­way, after some slaughter of the uncircumspect Souldier, much of her Artillery. This losse trou­bled her a little, but when she found her selfe pur­sued by King Edward so close, that before she could reach T [...]wxbury▪ he wi [...] his Horsewere in sight; despe [...]ation [...]d her, so that she began onely to looke which way to flye▪ And indeed to that ex­tremity was her businesse reduced, that there was left no no other hope of safety: The King having so much oddes in courage and number. But the Duke of Sommerset prevailed against her feares, and the sober opinion of most of the best Comman­ders▪ Vpon which neglecting to scape at first into [...], where Pe [...]brooke had raised mighty Forces for her service; She was soone by the King necessita [...]ed, either to yeeld or endure the battaile. Whereupon she resolved to fight it out [...]hat day which was the last, and that which decided the great quarrell betweene the two houses.

The Duke of Sommer set [...] field in a Park ad [...]oy [...]ing to the Towne▪ and [...] this Camp round so high and so strong that the enemy could on no side force it; [...] when he perceived an in­evitable [Page 93] necessity of present fight, he Marshall'd his host for the service. The Foreward he and his brother commanded, the Earle of Devonshire the Rer [...]. In the maine Battaile was the Prince, un­der the direction of the Lord Prior, and the Lord Wenlocke. The Queene seeing the houre draw neere and that there was need the Souldier should have advantage of valour to equal the enemy, who bad it in multitude; tooke the Prince with her and [...]ode about the army. In her looke appear'd nothing but life and resolution, in her language almost an assurance of victory; So cunningly she concealed the wound her despaire had given her, that then onely it bled inward. Shee told them, that it rested in their courage that day to restore their imprisoned King to liberty and his Crowne; and themselves not to safety onely, but to honour and treasure. For the wealth of the rebellious Ci­ties should be their spoyle, the Kingdome their inheritance to be divided onely among them, and all those titles the enemies so proudly wore, to be conferr'd upon their deserts. If the inequality of number frighted them; shee showed it was not such, but that they might be confident their great hearts animated by the justice of the cause, would easily take away the disparity. Then she wisht them to looke upon the Prince (whose personage the fond Mother thought, would make them like de­sperate lovers contemne danger) and fight for him their fellow Souldier, with whom they were to share in fortune, and who once in possession of the Throne, would never forget them, by whose courage he was seated there.

The Souldier generally appear'd resolved against the sharpest danger, receiving her words with [Page 94] much alacritie: And soone as the Signall was gi­ven bravely repulst the Duke of Glocester, who ha­ving the leading of King Edwards vantguard, had assaulted the Queenes Campe. Vpon which re­pulse, the Duke of Sommerset seeing Glocester re­tire with some apparence of flight (an apparence indeede it was onely to betray the enemy) ran af­ter [...]o farre in the pursute, that there was no safe­tie in the retreate. Then did Glocester on the sud­daine turne backe upon him, and having by this deceit inticed him from his trenches, hee cut all the vantguard in peeces. The Lord Wenlock who had the conduct of the maine battell and whom it concernd to have reliev'd the Duke, onely looking on as if he were a spectator, and no actor in the present tragedy. Sommerset enraged with his discomfiture, and having Wenlocks faith in some jealosie; upon his escape backe obrayded him with the most ignominious termes of cowardize and treason: and transported by the heate of passion, with an Axe hee had in his hand strooke out his braines. This outrage begot nothing but disorder in the Queenes Campe; and so great grew the confusion, that no man knew whom to obey, or how or where to make resistance against the assaulting enemy. So unhappy is government both in warre, and peace, when all authoritie is not conferd on one: a multitude of Commanders dividing the obedience of the inferior, and ever distracting resolutions among themselves. Where­as nature instructs us to a Subordination, and as in our owne, so in a publique body, it is mon­strous either to have no head, or else to have more then one.

The King tooke advantage of this uprore, and [Page 93] by it gaind a most entire victory: For entring with­out any opposition the Queenes trenches, he com­mitted a most cruell slaughter on all who resisted. Three thousand of the common souldiers (for they alwayes pay for the rashnesse or folly of their Commanders) were slaine that day, and among them the Earle of Devon-shiere, the Lord John Beufort, and some other Gentlemen of name. The thicke of the Parke preserv'd some, and the San­ctuary others but them onely for a while: for King Edward who was never an overscrupulous observer of religious rites, with his sword drawne would have entred the Church and forc't them thence. But a good Priest carefull to maintaine the immunitie of the place, with the Eucharist in his hand, opposed the violence and would not let him enter a place sacred to our most mercifull God, untill hee had granted to all there his mercy by a free pardon. But this pardon betrayd them, for on the Munday after they were taken out of the Church; and all beheaded in the Market place at Teuxbury. Among whom of principall note were the Duke of Sommerset and the Lord Prior of Saint Johns, and many other Knights of great reputation and fortune. By which violation of the San­ctuary he made good the opinion which the world before had conceived of him; that Religi­on never could prevaile so farre upon his consci­ence as to bee any barre eyther to his pleasures or revenge.

The Queene halfe dead in her Chariot was ta­ken in the battaile, and not long after, the Prince vvas brought prisoner to the King by Sir Ri­chard Croft. Who taking notice of the Proclamati­on, vvhereby the revvard of a hundred pound by [Page 96] the yeare during life was promist to whosoever should yeeld the Princes body, dead or alive, up to the King: (with protestation not to offer any vio­lence to his person if alive) brought him unhappi­ly to his death: Which when the good Knight afterward found, he repented what he had done, and openly profest his service abused, and his faith deluded.

For King Edward presently upon the delivery of the Prince, caused him to be brought into his presence, and intertained him with some demon­stration of curtesie: Mooved perhaps thereunto by the innocency of his youth, compassion of his misfortune, or the comelinesse of his person; the composition of his body, being guilty of no fault but a too feminine beauty. At first it was suppo­sed the King might have some charitable intenti­on, and resolve happily to have setled him in the Dutchy of Lancaster, his Fathers inheritance, a pa­trimony too narrow for a King, and something too large for a Subject; and thereupon to have en­terd discourse with him, whereby to make experi­ence whether his spirit would stoope to acknow­ledge a Superiour. He therefore question'd him what madde perswasion had made him enter into so rash an enterprise; where the very attempt was rebellion, being against his Soveraigne, and folly being in opposition to a Prince so farre in power above him? He expected an humble answer de­precatory for life, or soft and gentle, according to the complection either of his fortune or his face. But he with a resolution (bold as his Grandfather Henry the fifth, would have replyed with) answerd, that to recover his Father miserably opprest, and the Crowne violently usurped, hee had taken [Page 97] armes. Neither could he be reputed to make any unjust claime, who desired no more then what had beene possest by Henry the sixt, the fift, and fourth, his Father, Grand-father, and great Grand­father, Kings of England; And acknowledged by the approbation not of the Kingdome onely but the world: and even by the progenitors of King Edward.

By the spirit of which language, when the King perceived how much his life might threaten dan­ger; with a looke full of indignation hee turn'd from him, thrusting him disdainfully away with his gantlet. Which so mighty rage observ'd, and his so distemper'd parting out of the roome: The Dukes of Clarence and Glocester, the Marquesse Dorset, and the Lord Hastings, seis'd suddenly up­on the Prince, and with their poniards most bar­barously murthered him. [...] Of whom wee can make little mention, his youth having perform'd nothing worth story, though it promist much. For under the governement of a Mother (the worst education for a Sonne) he had beene bred up, un­till this last sceane of life; which hee acted alone, and bravely; so that posterity hath sence of his misfortune yet, and applaudes the justice of the Almighty in punishment of his murtherers. For all of them came to violent ends; Glocester being executioner of the rest; and of him the Earle of Richmond, the next surviving kinsman of the but­cher'd Prince. The severity of which example, holds a glasse before the eyes of the wicked, and showes them how rotten is all that greatnesse, which is not raised upon, and maintained by ver­tue: and as the conscience is ever after such a cry­ing sinne, inwardly tortured upon the racke of [Page 98] feare; so seldome doth the body escape outward­ly an exemplary death by violence.

After this generall defeate of the enemy, the death of the Prince, and all the great partakers with the house of Lancaster, and the surprize of the Queene her selfe: the King returned toward Lon­don: This being the onely compleate victory he ever gain'd, from which no man of eminency esca­ped; and no man, who might pretend to a com­petition, was now preserved except King Henry, and he issuelesse and in prison.

And to make this triumph resemble something of the Roman, the King carryed with him his great captive the most afflicted Queene Margaret. A wo­man most unfortunate to her selfe, and most rui­nous to this kingdome. For after her marriage into England. Soone finding her husbands weake­nesse, safe however in being directed and streng­thened by sober councell; she never left off inven­ting new machinations till she wrought him into her sole command, with the destruction of his neerest friends. So that to make the prospect from her greatnesse larger she broke downe and levelld his strong bullwarkes. The Duke of Glocester which might perhaps a little checke her ambiti­ous eye, but being taken quite away left her o­pen to every tempest. Having therefore by fo­menting dissention at home lost (except onely Callice) all our void territories abroad: by the mur­ther of the good Duke, her Husbands Vncle, shee gave liberty to the house of Yorke, to make their just claime to the Crowne; and in the end to put her out of that governement, shee prepo [...]terously managed. In her prosperity, shee was rather am­bitious, then wanton; though from the last opi­nion [Page 99] did not absolutely acquit her. Which asper­sion certainely was cast upon her, by reason of her too intimate familiarity with some of the younger and finer Lords: For the more discreete and aged, either dislikt her projects; or were dis­liked by her, as persons too cautious to consult with a giddy woman. Her mighty confidence in the Duke of Suffolke, who wrought her marryage with England, hath left the largest part of that false suspicion upon his name. For who are just to her memory, cannot but say beside that she was religi­ous, shee was even too busie to thinke of Love matters. But perhaps the misfortune of her car­riage gave some small occasion of the report. Her prosperous fortune presents her to us in the worst colours a factious, busie, and imperious Queene. [...]er adverse in the best, a most industrious wo­man to recover what her folly had lost, an excel­lent Wife, and a most indulgent Mother. And had she never appear'd in action but when misfortune had compell'd her to it; she had certainely beene numbred among the best examples of her Sex: But now the merits of her later part of life, by re­deeming the errours of the former, serve onely to l [...]vell her with the indifferent. The time shee continued a prisoner in England, shee showed us no face but that of desolation: the strength of her spirit, eyther broken in the murther of her Son; or else shee accounted it a needlesse imployment now to raise her selfe above her sorrowes. After some time, her Father with the sale of much of that poore estate remained yet in his possession, ransomed her; whereby she was redeemed to an­other ayre, though not to a freer fortune. In ad­dition to her other miseryes she was punisht with [Page 100] a long life, which shee spun out sadly and inglo­riously, living humbly upon the narrow exhibi­tion her Father did steale from himselfe to afford her. Her life was much the talke of the present and succeeding times: because it concurr'd to the destruction of the house of Lancaster, a Family be­yond any then in the Christian world, both in ex­tent of dominion, greatnesse of alliance, and glo­ry of action. Her death was so obscure (for who counts the steps of the unfortunate?) that it is not left certainely in story when she dyed.

But King Edward by her misfortunes reckoned his owne felicities: and now justly conceived himselfe secure in that Throne, he so passionately had endeavoured to sit at ease in. But because the Sceane of his fortune had had more changes, then any King in England yet, except his Compe­titor: he continued still with a most watchfull eye to looke about him. And not knowing to how dangerous a growth his enemies might arrive, which for the present appeared weake: he thought fit to take order with Jasper Earle of Pembrooke, who remained in Wales, with a power unable to offend the King, but able enough, considering the nature of the place, to defend himselfe. Where­fore, that without a publicke trouble he might de­stroy so private a person, hee sent Roger Vaughan strong both in kindred and followers, with com­mission by some stratagem to entrap him. But the Earle had a discovery of his plot, and to deceive the deceiver; seemed to give opportunity for exe­cution of the designe: by which meanes hee got Vaughan into his possession, and presently caused him to be beheaded. But knowing this act con­curring with the whole progresse of his life in op­position [Page 101] to the King, Would bring him to ruine, either by open power or secret practise; he resolv'd to saile over into Brittaine, and under the protecti­on of that state to secure himselfe from the present storme. With him he carryed his Nephew Henry Earle of Richmond, heire of the Teuthers Family by the Paternall, by the materiall side of the house of Sommerset, for the civill warre had now de­stroy'd all those great Dukes, who had with losse of their lives shewed their devotion to King Hen­ry, and left the inheritance of their honour with a farre more favourable aspect to this young Earle.

By the Duke of Britanny, they were received not onely with promise of safety, but with reliefe of pension. Him perhaps the consideration of the instability of humane affaires, moved to this no­ble pitty. But Peter Landois (the sole directour of the Duke and a wicked man) perswaded his Ma­ster to give them entertainement out of an avari­tious hope one day, to make a good merchandize for himselfe by sale of them into England.

Yet could not the King bring his happinesse to that quiet he desired; Some few small drops fell upon him after the great tempest. For a base Son of William Nevill Earle of Kent, commonly known by the name of the Bastard Fauconbrige, having bin imployed Vice Admirall by the Earle of Warwicke, during the late combustions of the kingdome, to hinder all succors which might come frō the Low Countryes to King Edwards aide, soone as he un­derstood the Earles death, set up for himselfe and fell to trade in open Pyracy. His conditions were ignoble as his birth, and onely can be said a fit in­strument to move the baser multitude to sedition. [Page 102] betweene Dover and Callice he robd most, and had now got under his command a Navie great enough to worke mischiefe. Especially having the chiefe of Callice (who had sided lately with the Earle) of his confederacy, and by that meanes safetie upon all occasions in their harbor. Gathe­ring therefore into his retinue many of those who had escaped from the two former overthrowes, and presuming upon the affection of the Kentish and Essex men, he saild up the River of Thames.

The intention of his armes divulging to be for the common libertie, and the redemption of the King and Queene imprisond by an usurper. By which pretence, ever powerfull to incline the vul­gar to sedition, he invited to the quarrell so great a multitude, that the number was reckoned se­venteene thousand fighting men: Most of them the dregs and lees of former rebellions: Such who having beene heretofore on King Henries side, and wanting courage to make good the undertaking had by flight escapd; or else men whom guilt of some enormous disorder had prepared for any attempt; because neither could hope to remaine long secure from punishment, when once the se­vere eye of a peaceable government, should looke narrowly into their offences.

With this he marcht to Kingstone hoping there to have crost the River, but being debard hee led his Army into S^•. Georges fields, and from thence with his Ordinance made some small battery on the Citie. And to strike the more terrour, in the meane time he causd three thousand of his men to be transported by boate at Saint Katherines, to make an assault on the other side at Algate and Bi­shopsgate. Who being set a shore with a courage [Page 103] as desperate as their quarrell, offerd to force an entrance, but by the Citizens were bravely repulst. The Lord Major and Aldermen directed by the great experience of the Earles of Essex and Rivers and the Marquesse Dorset, neglecting no part of the best Commanders. And so valiantly they pur­sued the rebels (who soone began to shrinke) that Fauconbridge with much difficultie recovered his shippes. For hee overconfident of successe had commanded them to fall as low as the Downes, little fearing he should so soone be forc'd to seeke safetie at Sea. And having vainly deluded himselfe and his Souldiers with expectation of great For­ces from Wales under the conduct of Jasper Earle of Pembrooke; With much danger of being de­stroyed at Black-heath, where for a while hee en­trencht, he got at length to Sandwich and fortefied the place. Few of the Rebels who had any weake hope of pardon, following their Generall upon a forc'd retreat.

The Commons entring thus upon every slight invitation into rebellion, when the preservation of King Henry was but mention'd, made the King begin to consider how dangerous his life was to the State; and that his death would disarme even the hope of his faction, for ever reslecting more upon the warres. It was therefore resolv'd in King Edwards Cabinet Councell, that to take away all title from future insurrections, King Henry should be sacrificed. For howsoever some either to cleere the memory of the King, or by after cruelties guessing at precedent, will have this murder to be the sole act of the Duke of Glocester: Who can be­lieve a man so cunning in declining envie, and winning honour to his name, would have under­taken [Page 104] such a businesse of his owne councell, and executed it with his owne hands. Neither did this concerne Glocester so particularly, as to engage him alone in the cruelty: nor was the King so scrupu­lous, having commanded more unnecessary slaughters, and from his youth beene never any stranger to such executions. In killing the Prince he had Clarence, Dorset, and Hastings for his con­ductors; and in the very murther of his Nephews (which was the securing his usurpation) he tru­sted Tyrrell: So confident had his innated inhu­manity made him, that he doubted not but others might be faithfull in villany. But the death of King Henry was acted in the darke; so that it cannot be affirmed who was the executioner: onely it is probable it was a resolution of state. The care of the Kings safety, and the publicke quiet, in some sort making it, however cruell, yet necessa­ry.

But that the world might not suspect King Hen­ry lived still, and thereupon leane to new designes, he was no sooner dead, but with some show of Funerall Rites, his body was brought into Saint Pauls Church: where upon Ascention day his face uncovered, he was exposed to the curiosity of e­very eye. For the King was resolved rather to en­dure the scandall of his murther, then to hazard the question of his life: Which continually gave life to new seditions. From Saint Paules next day the corps obscurely without any ceremony (in those dayes with much piety observ'd toward the dead) was convey'd to the Blackefryers, and from thence by boate to Chersye. Whence, after it had rested some while, it was remooved to Windsore, and there at length found quiet. The King having [Page 105] even after death partaked with the troubles and disgraces of his life.

The reason of burying him thus in the darke, I cannot guesse to be any disrespect to so great a Prince; but onely to stop the discourses of the Commons, who alwayes pitty them dead, to whose deaths their votes concurr'd. Vnlesse it be true, what is commonly written, that the people began to censure hardly of his death, because at what time his body lay in Saint Pauls, and after in Blackefryers, a large quantity of blood issued from his nose. A most miraculous way of speaking the barbarisme of his murther, and giving Tyrants to understand that the dead dare in their language tell the truth, and call even their actions to ac­count. For this manner of bleeding was never observed to happen, but when against Law, Nature had beene opprest with violence, and see­med to challenge Iustice.

With what aspect he entertained his fate, I can­not write; But well we may beleeve, he could not but smile upon death, who by a continuall exer­cise in vertue, from his very Infancy had triumpht over sinne; which onely makes death formida­ble to a Christian. Of his outward actions, all good men of that time tooke a reverend notice: Especially of his due observation of all the Lawes of the Church, his exemplar piety, humility be­neath the state, commonly usurp'd by Princes; and a modesty even to admiration. But they were the vertues, which Crowned the first part of his life, past over in a full prosperity, and appertaine not to this story. His misfortune and death onely fall to this taske. And in his misfortune he exprest so singular a fortitude, that he was never observ'd [Page 106] dejected upon the report of any sad accident. But entertained all afflictions as sent from the Al­mighty, and absolutely resign'd his will to that of heaven. How innocently he spent the last ten yeares of his life, which was in as much adversity as ever Prince suffer'd, his ghostly Father gave a happy testimony. Affirming that in all that long tryall of the inward man, he never in confession could accuse himselfe of any actuall sinne. His im­ployment was prayer, and his recreation onely pious discourses which perswaded man to set a true value upon heavenly things, and throw a just contempt upon the world. And to such repu­tation the sanctity of his life arrived among the common people, that after his death they hono­red him with the devotion due to a Saint. And King Henry the seventh (who owed most opini­on to his holinesse, because he had fore-professed he should enjoy that Crowne for which the two houses then so much contested) labour'd his Cano­nization with the Pope. But that succeeded not: For however the world was assured of his piety, there was much question of his governement. So that he might be term'd a just man, but an unjust King. Since his title to the Crowne was unjust; for though it came by descent to him, yet was it but a continued usurpation: His Raigne was guil­ty, I will not say through his demerit, but through his evill fortune, of much mischiefe, and the effu­sion of a Sea of Christian blood: And however in the contemplative part he was religious toward God, in the active he was defective to the world. So that to have made him worthy that honour Henry the seventh would have provided for him: He must either (being resolved in conscience his [Page 107] title was just) have fully perform'd the office of a King: Or knowing it questionable have submit­ted it to be disputed, freely and upon the resoluti­on made resignation of what he unlawfully pos­sest. But Iustice which commands any diminuti­on of greatnesse, is seldome obeyed by Princes; and death onely makes them surrender up what was violently by their Progenitors usurpd, and un­justly by themselves continued, for till death am­bition betrayes the conscience, and feare of being lesse makes it not dare to see the truth, which per­swades to restitution.

King Henry thus taken away, the forces under Fauconbridges command; which before had the specious title of a just warre, could now pretend to nothing but an unjust sedition. And so low they fell both in spirit and reputation, that all they in­tended was but to make show of warre, whereby the easier to worke their peace: No man of name or power, who before secretly had favoured them but openly professing against the enterprize. In Sandwitch nine hundred of them remained, till they certainely understood the Kings approach with a mighty power: then they sent forth Sir George Brooke, to acquaint his Majesty with their desire to returne to his obedience, if they might by his pardon, be secured of their lives and liber­ties. They protested it was no feare or present necessity induced them to this submission, having confederates enough abroad to releeve them up­on extremity, and for the present victuals for six moneths, and munition to oppose any assault. If this offer might be accepted, they would give up with themselves, the Towne and Castle, toge­ther with all the shipping in the Harbour: If not, [Page 108] necessity would force them to their owne de­fence. And if they must dye, they would sell their lives at so deere a rate, that the King might repent his purchase. Considering he had kill'd so many who would have beene as bold to have fought his quarrell, and lost so good shipping, and so commodious a haven Towne; For they were resolv'd to see both consumed with themselves: that the victory might be no triumph to the con­querour, and the conquer'd might have that com­fort in their ruine.

The proposition was accepted by the King, and the Duke of Glocester (whose wisdome and valor had wrought him high in the opinion of the King) was sent with a generall pardon to the Re­bells, and authority in the Kings name to receive the Towne, the Castle, and all the shipping in the harbour.

But the King who never let any pardon be an impediment to his purpose, having them in his power; caused the Lawes severely to proceed a­gainst them. And for the example of the rest, Spicing and Quintin (tvvo of the chiefe in this rebel­lion) vvere executed at Canterbury; and their heads set upon those gates, vvhich at their last being at London, they so furiously assaulted. And that the King might not onely dravv blood, but treasure from this businesse, a Commission of Oier and Terminer vvas directed to the Lord Deubam, and Sir John Fog, to inquire against Offenders in the last rebellion, and to inflict either corporall or pecuniary punishment. But the Commissioners vvho understood both the necessity and intention of the State: made rather choyce of the later, knovving death vvould but incurre the opinion [Page 109] of cruelty, and no way advance the Kings bene­fit. Whereas great fines weaken as much the dis­contented, make the Prince as secure from dan­ger, even with the reputation of clemency.

And that Fauconbridge the first moover of this sedition might have no more priviledge then his complices; comming into South-hampton he was apprehended and put to death. The inserting of his name in the former pardon, though often pleaded by him, serving onely to make him suffer the same execution with the rest.

The punishment of these succeeding so well, the King proceeded against others. And first a­gainst the Arch-bishop of Yorke, brother to the Earle of Warwicke, who with his spirituall autho­rity had set a glosse of Religion upon all the later attempts. And by his working inclin'd the Com­mons of the North to so constant a resolution for King Henry. With him the King tooke order, be­cause he found his ambition irregular, and sent him to be kept prisoner in the Castle of Guisnes. Where deservedly he endured a long restraint, ne­ver attain'd liberty till death enlarg'd him. No man afforded the poore comfort of pitty to his af­fliction, because in his prosperity he had beene insolent and factious.

The manner of the attachment was, according to the custome of the King, unfaithfull. For ha­ving admitted the Arch-bishop, after Barnet field, not onely into favour, but a speciall familiarity; as he was hunting with him neere Windsor, he pro­mist to come to the More (a place in Hartford-shire, which was not long before purchaste, and built up most commodiously by the Arch-bishop) and there to hunt with him: with this caution that [Page 110] there might be nothing but a liberall mirth, and friendly entertainement. With much complacen­cy, the Arch-bishop retired to his house, joyfull to see the King so free in his affection, without memory of former discontents. And that the en­tertainement might not be altogether beneath the Majesty of his person, against the Kings comming; beside all provision which the shortnesse of the time could make; he had gather'd together of his owne and his friends, plate and other rich hous­holdstuffe, to the value of twenty thousand pound. Next day expecting the presence of the King: On the sudden, Sir William Par knight, and Master Thomas Vaughan entered the house, and by vertue of a Commission to that purpose, confiscated all those goods to the Kings use. Who having arrested his person and sent that to prison, seized upon all his estate both temporall and Ecclesiasticall: The former forfeited for ever, the later during the Archbishops life.

The crime objected against him was treason, for secretly aiding the Earle of Oxford; who at that time had fortefied Saint Michaels Mount in Corne­wall. For the poore Earle seeing the whole Island lost from the house of Lancaster (in whose defence he had beene so constant) and all the great favou­rers of the quarrell destroyd: having no place of safety to shelter himselfe abroad, tooke this cor­ner of the kingdome, and endeavour'd to make it good. But this was but the enterprize of a de­sperate man; for all his hope this way could be onely to prolong a wretched life without servi­tude. As for liberty he was his owne goaler, and his fortresse his prison. The whole number of his Souldiers were but seventy, scarce enough for [Page 111] his retinue. Yet with these he managed his bu­sinesse so happily, that though besig'd, hee revictu­alled the place: and made his defence good some moneths. But when Richard Fortescue, Esquire of the body to the King, and then Sheriffe of the County, came downe, and by open offer of the Kings free pardon to all the Earles men, and se­cret practising; had wrought them to his pur­pose. The Earle was forced to yeeld, and with him the Lord Beumount, two of the Earles brothers, and Thomas Clifford: all persons of great name and qua­lity: The King receiv'd them to mercy, as farre as their lives were concernd. But for their estates (for now he began to husband his victories to the benefit of his treasury) he confiscated them whol­ly; not allowing the disconsolate Countesse any part of her joynture. Insomuch that during the life time of King Edward (for all that while was the Earle kept prisoner neere Callice in the Castle of Hames) she was forced to live upon the curtesie of her friends, a kinde of better sort of almes.

All now were reduced to order, except the Earles of Richmond and Pembrooke: and them the King labour'd to fetch in: For now either his na­ture was alter'd to a strange mistrust, which in his youth had beene so taxed for an uncircumspect confidence: or else he began to be govern'd by a Councell of a more wary judgement, and whose sight could discerne danger a farre off. And cer­tainely who compares the first and last times of the Kings government, shall perceive a strange difference in the pollicy: unlesse in those affaires wherein he obey'd his owne direction, and in them remain'd a taint of his naturall errour. [Page 112] Which change of governement may be ascribed to the Duke of Glocester, a man whom the consci­ence of his owne infidelity, made jealous of the faith of others: who thought no enemy alive and with liberty, but full of danger, how weake so ever his power or pretence might be: and who at this time held the sterne of the Councell, while the King at pleasure wanton'd in his Cabin. By his advice Commissioners were sent over to the Duke of Brittaine, in whose dominions the Earles remained, to expostulate the injury of giving en­tertainement, to any evill affected to the state of England. Pembrooke having been upon all occasions an open Rebell, and Richmond onely wanting age to take armes, and who shortly appeared to threa­ten no lesse dangerous. They desired him as he respected confederacy with England, and the com­mon pollicy of Princes, not to disobliege the King by comforting his enemies, and succouring such who could bring nothing but ruine to their abettors: Neither to preferre faith to two mise­rable exiles, before love to a Prince, who had both the power and intention to joyne with him in any warre that might tend to the safety or ho­nour of his Dutchy. They concluded with an earnest request that he would deliver up into their hands the two fugitives that such order might be taken, as was safest for the present state. Or if the too scrupulous observance of an oath, per­plex'd him, that at least such care might be had, that they might neither attempt confederacy a­broad, or a power to enable them to returne home.

The Duke made answer, that in point of ho­nour he could not condiscend to the Kings first [Page 113] demand; having upon their arrivall there given them his word. But for the second part he would beyond the Kings owne desire consult for the safeguard of his Majesty, and restraining them from any power to attempt new enterprizes. And perhaps, as it would preserve his reputation clea­rer to the World, so would it more advance the Kings purpose to let them remaine in Brittaine, rather then to have them returned into England Considering at home they had a great kindred, and by the slaughter of the rest, were growne chiefe of the faction of Lancaster; Whereas if they conti­nued with him they should be in a free but a safe custody, in a Country where they were so farre from power, that they wanted acquaintance. And that himselfe would narrowly looke that no dis­contended persons should resort to them, or that they should make their addresses to any other Prince. Whereupon he intreated his Majesty to consider him as a Confederate most religious in maintenance of that amity, heretofore so happily begun, and hitherto so faithfully maintaind.

With this answer the Embassadors return'd, and the Duke made good his promise to the King. For presently he remooved all their English servants; and set Brittaines to attend them, who did rather observe then serve them: Men who cunningly markt, not onely who made their dependancies upon them of the English, or with what people they held intelligence: but even their lookes, and sent the Coppy of them into England, oftentimes with a false interpretation. Then (that two toge­ther might not animate each other, and enter into dangerous Councells) they were kept divided, and all communication either by language or let­ter, [Page 114] absolutely interdicted. And (that both be­ing in the same sufferance, might not conspire to the same escape) there was a guard set upon them, who narrowly though respectively wa [...]ch [...] them. So that we may guesse this great care the King tooke for their restraint, to have wrought a strange effect. Richmond esteeming himselfe more considerable as he was more suspected; and by the feares of the King making valuation of his owne pretences. Great thoughts crept into his minde by the circumspection of such great Prin­ces; and the vulgar both abroad and at home be­gan to beleive (for they alwayes thinke there are strange depths, even in the shallowes of Princes actions) there was much mistery in Richmond, title, and danger in his liberty. Whereas had he lived unsuspected by the King; he had perhaps dy­ed unobserv'd by the world.

By this negotiation with Britaine, having secu­red himselfe of these two Earles, who might en­danger trouble to the kingdome at home; he be­gan to looke abroad, whether yet hee had never liberty to cast his eye: His pleasures or dangers higherto so taking up his time, that he had onely serv'd his appetite or safety. But now hee had quieted all civill troubles, and even rooted up the very feare of warre hereafter. He therefore thought it necessary to looke, first upon France, a nation which had made benefit of our ruine; and while we busied our thoughts and courage, in destructi­on of each other, recovered so much life, they were growne dangerous. Of their farther growth the King was fearefull, and resolv'd, if he could not make them lesse, at least to keepe them at a stay. Whereupon having intelligence of a mar­riage [Page 115] in agitation betweene Duke Charles (bro­ther to Lewis the Eleventh, and then heire appa­rent to the Crowne) and the daughter and sole heire of Charles Duke of Burgundy; he endeavou­red by all art to breake off the treaty. For he con­sidered how formidable the French would grow to our kingdome, should the so large territory of the seventeene Provinces with the other domini­ons of the Duke be added. How they would then be enabled to revenge those many injuries, the fortune of our victories had done them; when we should be left to our owne armes; the Burgo­nian (by whose aide we had enterd and conquerd France) now prepared to warre upon us. How France, superiour alwayes to the English in multi­tude, and extent of territory, and defective one­ly in commodious Havens, would by this be en­larged with a mighty Sea coast, and as good men for Navigation as the world then had: By which they would have absolute command at Sea, and keepe us within the narrow limits of our Island: If they would permit us that. These considera­tions made the King sollicit both the Duke of Brittaine, and the Count S. Paul (the two earnest meditators for Duke Charles) to desist from farther negotiation in the marriage. Brittaine he moved to reflect upon his owne danger, if Charles should survive King Lewys, as by course of yeares it was probable, and have so great an Empyre under his command. That greater Princes, like greater Ri­vers swallow up the lesse, and after a while retaine no memory of them. And if he presumed upon the friendship betweene him and Duke Charles, and the many courtesies done him; it was a tre­cherous hope, that never yet kept faith. That Brit­taine [Page 116] never enjoyd all the priviledges appertaining to the Dutchy, but when France was disabled to infringe them.

VVith the Count S. Paul he dealt another way, by representing to him the neere friendship that ought to be betweene them too, in respect of the so neere alliance, being Vncle to his Queene: By which he intreated him not to urge a businesse so prejudiciall to the safety of the Crowne of England; which in a neere degree concern'd his owne blood. VVithall he advised him to take care of himselfe, and not to exasperate too farre King Lewys, to whom the treaty of this marriage was most unpleasing; in regard to the safety of his owne estate. To foment discord betweene bro­thers, being injurious to religion, and unsafe to pollicy. For Nature reunites them, and throwes both their mallices on him, who occasioned the first breach, and who for the most part is yeelded up a sacrifice to the reconcilement. He concluded with the madnesse of his actions who would pro­voke the just anger of so subtill, and so revenge­full a Prince; for the fraile amity of so weake and inconstant a man as his brother Duke Charles, who so often had beene entrapt.

From both these Princes he received such an­swer as showed they resolved to prosecute their designe, but not to have him suspect it. Giving faire protestations of their desire to be over-ruled by the Kings direction. But neither of them un­derstood the businesse in that dangerous nature, as it was conceived in England. For though King Lewys had no Sonne at that time, yet was there every day expectation he might have: the Queen likely to conceive, and Lewys in much health and [Page 117] strength of body. And indeed soone after a young Dolphin was borne who succeeded in the king­dome. Moreover they considerd the malice be­tweene the brothers growne to that height, that all feare of reconciliation was needlesse: And that there was no such certaine way to maintaine a generall dissention in France, as by enabling Duke Charles with a power to make good the former contestation. Nothing likely to incline him to seeke friendship with his brother, but being disa­bled to continue an enemy.

The King suspecting the reality of their inten­tions and resolved upon any termes to prevent the marriage, had in his determination to have for­got all former discontents justly conceiv'd against King Lewys in abetting the contrary faction of Lancaster, and to have enterd into a particular league with him against the Duke of Burgundy. But before he would make the overture, he tryed by his Embassadors to know the certaine resolution of the Duke himselfe, who had in the marriage of his daughter alwayes held his thoughts apart from the world. And in truth the end of his intentions was to keep all neighboring Princes in expectatiō, but to conclude with none. For at the same time when Duke Charles had so many underhand pro­mises with the selfe same hope did hee entertaine Maximilian Sonne to the Emperour Fredericke the third, Nicolas Duke of Calabria, and Philibert Duke of Savoy. His ambition being to create many de­pendancies upon himselfe, and never to marry her to no man, unlesse hee should bee forc'd to it by some evill fate in warre, and then he doubted not but by her to worke himselfe safe and honorable conditions.

[Page 118]Much importuned by the English Embassador to give his resolution, and not knowing to what danger the Kings suspition might grow, or to what new leagues it might incline him; he answe­red him faithfully that he intended no such neare alliance with Duke Charles. And that all those ap­parences of treatie were onely to retaine him in discord with his brother, who otherwise might chance to be reconcild, and hazard to destroy that faction, which the necessitie of his affaires did inforce him to advance. Hee desired therefore the King not to listen to every false suggestion, but to believe hee would doe nothing in so materiall a point, without much advice, and care had for sa­tisfaction of so great a confederat, and so neare an allye.

This so absolute resolution of the Duke tooke away the former jealousie, which soone after would howsoever of it selfe have vanisht. For Duke Charles not without a strong suspition of practise in King Lewys, dyed of poyson, and so fixt a period to those many civill wars which had distracted the state of France, and to all those busie ambitions, which had so much disquieted his owne content.

At home the King was continually stunge by a swarme of Creditors, who during his late trou­bles had supplyed him with treasure, and for whom gratitude did obliege him to provide re­paiment. He found his Exchequer emptie and a necessitie to desire the Commonaltie to contri­bute with their purses that many of his best friends might not be ruinated. He therefore sum­mond a Parliament to be held at Westminster, wherein though the reformation of abuses, and [Page 119] enacting Lawes wholsome for the present time was pretended, a liberall subsidy was the ayme. But in the beginning all those acts which had been heretofore made during the first part of King Ed­wards government, and abrogated by King Hen­ry the last Parliament when for a time he was re­stored, were revived and enacted to continue in full force for ever: And whatever other statutes were made by King Henry, repealed. By vertue of which acts all the Nobilitie who had adherd to the house of Yorke and had beene for that attain­ted, were restored in blood and to their patrimo­nies; and all of the contrary faction found guilty of high treason, and their estates confiscated to the King. Then for reliefe of the Kings great ne­cessities (for all those so mightie fortunes serv'd onely to reward the multitude of his adherents) a full subsidy was granted; In recompence of which he gave them a generall pardon. And in­deede by that, liberally repaid them; For by the late civill warres, the laps into treason was so universall, that scarce any estate could be safe if licence were given to informers the Cormarants of a Commonweale, who swallow much, seldome or never grow fat; and least of all advance that they most pretend, the Kings benefit.

Some few dayes before the Parliament began, Lewys of Bruges a Netherlander Lord of Gruthuse and Prince of Steinhuse came over into England, who was receav'd by the King with all the de­monstrations of amitie: And on the thirteenth of October in the Parliament Chamber created Earle of Winchester, receiving with the title the an­cient armes of Roger Quincy, heretofore Earle of the place, with addition of the coate of England in [Page 120] a canton. The reason of this so extraordinary fa­vour conferd upon a stranger, was the much ap­plication of respect hee made to King Edward, when by the prevayling fortunes of the Earle of Warwicke, he was forc'd to fly for refuge under the protection of the Duke of Burgundy. For hee be­ing a noble man of that Country, dedicated him­selfe totally to comfort, the King distracted with his present affliction.

Soone after him, the Parliament being newly ended, came Embassadours from the Low-Coun­tries; who after the first open audience (wherein for the most part passed onely the complement of Princes) admitted to the King and some few Lords most intimate to the Kings resolutions spoke to this purpose.

[Page 128]This overture tooke generally with the great Lords, who in their infancyes by their Nurses having beene told no stories but of our triumphs in France (and those tales imprint deepely in the memory) and now for many yeares ever acquain­ted with the warres at home, embraced danger as the onely meanes to honour. Moreover an ap­petite of glory, mingled with a noble emulation of the prowes of their Fathers, made every man of name thrust forward to this action. Neither were the more covetous backeward, considering they were to warre with a richer, and a more ef­feminate nation; and not unlikely to returne loa­den with spoyle; if not to remaine there in a fer­tiller and a pleasanter Country. The Souldier, who was in a manner all the gentry of the Land (for the civill warres had engaged them all to the stu­dy of armes) rellisht this businesse more then the great Lords. For they, having beene bred up in the free licence of warre, abhord to be circumscri­bed within the narrow bounds of the Lawes, which never have absolute power but in peace. So that the whole body of the Kingdome passio­nately affected the quarrell, and by their univer­sall acclamations in praise of it, perswaded the King soone to declare his assent.

Whereupon sending for the Embassadors, he showed his resolution to the warre, which hee would undertake in person, and that very Spring (for it was now presently after Christmas) tran­sport his Forces into France. He desired therefore to understand, in what readinesse the Duke of Burgundy had his army, and where he would ap­point the place for the English to joyne, and which way should first be taken. To which the Embas­sadors [Page 129] made answer; that the Duke had his For­ces so well prepared that if the King would nomi­nate a certaine time when he would be at Callice; the Duke would be sure three moneths before to waste the whole Country belonging to the French, and to have his men so expert that they should be able to instruct the English, unacquainted with the place. And as for transportation of his Souldi­ers they desired his Majesty not to perplex him­selfe, in regard his Highnesse would provide boats for that purpose. Then that the King might per­ceive how faithfully the Duke dealt with him, they showed the Articles agreed upon betweene the Dukes of Burgundy, Brittaine, and the Count S. Paul; to joyne in a warre offensive against King Lewys: As likewise a Catalogue of the names of all the great Lords of France, who held secret intelli­gence with them, and who would revolt from the French King, soone as the Dukes army tooke the field.

With this so satisfactory answer, the Embassa­dors returned to the Duke, who in this attained the ambition of many yeares working. For all the feare which troubled his busie minde was, least King Edward won by the practises of King Lewys, might be induced to side with France, or else to remaine a neuter. And indeed the last he suspect­ed most, knowing the nature of our King so prone to voluptuousnesse, to which the noyse and trou­ble of the warres never gives free licence. He there­fore by continuall Embassies, kept him con­stant to his resolution, and with larger promises of supply, and clearer apparences of successe, prickt forward his ambition to the enterprise.

But all these arts were needlesse, for the King [Page 130] was forward to the quarrell: Either out of a brave emulation of Henry the fift his Predecessor of the other line; or out of a confidence as easily to throw King Lewys out of the throne of France, as he had King Henry out of the Soveraignety of Eng­land; or perhaps not to appeare backeward in an attempt of glory, when the expectation of the kingdome called upon him to arme. For unlesse some malice rancord in the genius of our Nation against the French, the Saxon governement ha­ving received a finall overthrow by them, in the conquest of Duke William (though to that great businesse conspired all the adjacent Countries) it would be our wonder why the English were ne­ver sparing of their lives or treasure, when any warre might be advanced against the French, And of this so extraordinary forwardnesse in his peo­ple, the King tooke a great advantage.

To compact the body of this enterprise, money the nerves and sinues of warre were wanting. The ordinary course for supply was by Parlament, and that at this time was held difficult if not impossi­ble: In regard the King but a little before had dis­solved the assembly, having received for discharge of his debts a large contribution: and to urge them to a second aide, would probably end in distaste, if not in denyall. Neither could it appeare lesse then extreame exaction, to force the Farmers, who make up the greatest number in any payment, to yeeld to asubsidie; considering the precedent trou­bles of the Kingdome had utterly: impoverisht them by hindering tillage and all good husban­dry. And for the Nobility, who pay a large share in all generall collections; they for the most pre­pared themselves for the expedition. And it could [Page 131] not but rebate the edge of their courages to be at a vast charge not onely in the particular setting forth of their owne persons and their retinue; but in the generall preparations. There was there­fore a new way found out, by former ages never knowne without oppressing the Commons, to supply the King, the name it bore was a benevo­lence, (though many disproved the signification of the word, by their unwillingnesse to the gift) and it was cunningly and discreetely required onely of the better sort of people, who were knowne to have a plentifull revenue. And especially of such whom ease and wealth were likely to detaine at home. Knowing that the heaviest burthen might be laid on them without a publicke murmur, as men hated by the Souldier, and upon whose pro­sperity ever attends a common envy.

In advancing this contribution no pollicy was omitted, either by private menaces, or publicke entreaties. Some came in led by feare (not know­ing to what indignation a denyall might provoke the state) Other cunningly perswaded to a vaine hope of enjoying the Kings particular favour by their forwardnesse: Few granted it for love to the enterprise; Most onely because their neighbours did it, and they wanted courage to disobey exam­ple. In History a Widdow is much spoke of, who having freely, and somewhat above the proporti­on of her estate, contributed twenty pound, recei­ved from the King a kisse. Which his so extraordi­nary favour (extraordinary to a Widdow declin'd in yeares) so overjoy'd her, that she doubled the summe, and presented it to the Collectors. By which slight passage, a judgement is easie to be made of the Kings nature: either of it selfe full of [Page 132] humanity, or without difficulty bending to the lowestcurtesie, when it any way concern'd the advancement of his profit.

By this art monies were raised, and now no­thing was wanting to the expedition. The uni­versall language of the Kingdome being of the warres, and all exercises military. No person of blood or quality, but prepared for the journey, ex­cept onely those whom infancy or extreame age exempted, or the necessary administration of the Common weale. And all they who went emula­ted, each other in the glory of their armour, the richnesse of their pavilions, the bravery of their horses furniture, and servants apparell. Every man being held so farre to recede from honor, as in his preparations he exprest an unwillingnesse to the businesse.

The army consisted of fifteene hundred men at armes, fifteene thousand Archers, eight thou­sand common Souldiers, beside three thousand Pioners appointed to guard the ordinance and the carriage. Three thousand good souldiers were sent into Brittaine, to joyne with his forces, and as­sault France on the other side.

All things disposed in so full a readinesse, the King sent over to the Duke of Burgundy, to ac­quaint him with the state of the army; and to know in what forwardnesse businesses were on that side. Who returned answers full of confident promises, and exhortation to the King to make all possible haste over, the Summer comming on a pace; which if past further without action, would indanger the losse of the whole expedition for that yeare. He assertain'd him moreover of cer­taine Townes under the governement of the [Page 133] Count S. Paul, which should be surrendred into the Kings hands, for retreat to the English upon any occasion of the badnesse of weather or for­tune. And indeed how weake soever the Duke knew the condition of his army, yet fearefull he was to expresse it; least the King should take advantage to give over the undertaking. The Kings nature being knowne diseased so much with the love of peace, that the Duke was justly suspicious how sound soever it appeared for the present, it might upon the least distemper fall into a re­lapse.

Vpon these assurances from the Duke, the King gave order that all his Forces should repaire to London: Whence after some few moneths spent in preparations, he marcht toward Dover. But before he tooke shipping, that the progresse of the Warre might be the more successefull, the begin­ning was made according to the old heroicke straine of bravery. For the King sent a Herauld over with a letter of defiance to Lewys of France: in which he was required to surrender up to the King of England, the Realme of France, as due to him by the lawes of inheritance, and violently wrested away from Henry the sixth, by Charles the seventh, and as unjustly possest by Lewys. By which voluntary resignation of the Crowne, was showed how without effusion of blood, the King of Eng­land should be inabled to restore the Clergy, and Nobility to their ancient greatnesse and priviled­ges, and the Commons to their liberty: Of which they had all beene so cruelly deprived, by the in­jurious usurpation and tyrannicall government of Charles and Lewys. It shovved likevvise hovv farre the Kingdome of France in generall, vvould by [Page 134] this receive benefit, considering it would be eased of all those many and unsupportable exactions, which by those covetous Princes, had beene laid upon it. It concluded with a threatning of all the mischiefes accompany warre, and an absolute de­spaire of all future mercy, or care to bee had of Lewys his provision; if upon so faire an admo­nissiment, and summons given he refused to yeeld the Kingdome.

This Letter saith Comines (an Authour of that time, happy in vvriting many cunning particulars of the Princes hee serv'd, but rude in the art of History, and ever blemishing the glory of our Nation) was pen'd so elegantly both for language and matter, that hee beleeved it vvas beyond the abilities of an English wit. A bold and ridiculous censure. For how could he who was borne no Native of France, and never had beene instructed in any learning, judge of language? Or how of the witty contrivance of the Letter; since in his owne History, which is received by the world with so universall an applause, there is an appa­rent defect in order and method? And without vanity our Nation may assume to it selfe the praise, considering the narrow limits of the Island, to have produced as many Schollers admirable in all degrees of knowledge, as any Country on this side the Alpes. Neither was that age (though ac­cording to the necessity of the time, more expert in armes then arts) without excellent wits famed for literature. But this digression the reader must pardon; a sence of our Nations honour thrust my pen out of the way, if this be from the purpose.

Whatsoever the Letter was in the composure, it was such in the substance, that it discomposed King [Page 135] Lewys, and troubled all his imaginations. Hee read it softly and fearefully; which was beneath that part of understanding he was most Master of, even pollicy it selfe. For it could not but beget strange interpretations in the Court, when the message of an enemy delivered publickely by let­ter should be kept concealed. The demand must probably be easily conjectured, and this silent way of answering could not but procure suspicion, that his resolution might discend to yeeld more then became a Prince. But in the manage of this, as in all other businesses, King Lewys delighted to give order alone, and show his authority independant of any Councell, without perplexing himselfe at all to satisfie opinion.

Having read the Letter he withdrew himselfe into a Wardrobe, and commanded the Herauld to be brought to his presence. To whom hee in answer to the Letter said: That he knew the King his Master had not resolved upon this enterprise, out of his owne disposition; but overcome by the sollicitation of his people, and the perswasion of the Duke of Burgundy, and the Count S. Paul. His people infatuated with a vaine presumption of vi­ctory, because heretofore the successe of their wars in France had beene fortunate, never considering the disparity of the state of things, or the uncer­tainety of events, especially where fury and for­tune, two blind powers, beare the wholesway. The Duke of Burgundy, (loving warre for it selfe, and having rashly engaged himselfe into many quarrels) out of desire to draw the King of Eng­land into his dangers, or at least at anothers cost, to beate the bargaine of peace, to a lower rate. The reason why he had so laboured King Edward to [Page 136] take armes, and revive an absolute title to the kingdome of France, being onely for his owne preservation which was threatned by all his inju­red neighbours, or else as it is reported of people diseased of the Plague, in envy to the health of o­ther Nations desirous to infect even his neerest al­lies with the contagion of his quarrell. As for the Count S. Paul, who had ever subsisted by dissimu­lation and setting division betweene Princes, whereby his assistance either for the prosecution of the warre, or conclusion of peace might be re­quired as necessary: All his hopes in this quarrell were onely to fish in troubled waters, and by an universall combustion to raise himselfe into au­thority, in regard peace levelled him with inferior Lords, and made his service of no use.

King Lewys proceeded on to tell him in how miserable a condition the Burgonian army was, ha­ving beene broken at the siege at Nuz (a despe­rate and madde undertaking) and now returned home, the Souldier destroyd either by the sword or famine: and that small number escaped, so wretched that the Duke might well expect prote­ction from the King, but could no way bee of power to advance his purpose. Hee added how the season of the yeare, Summer being almost past must of necessity deterre the King from crossing the Sea, and many other arguments against the present undertaking: As if the Herauld being perswaded to quiet by Oratory; France might have beene reprived from warre for that yeare. And to make him the more his friend, hee gave him three hundred crownes, with promise of a thousand more, if the peace, so much desired by him, tooke effect.

[Page 137]The Herauld overcome much by his perswa­sions, but much more by his money, replyed. That no travell on his part should bee omitted, that might tend to the service of his Majesties intenti­ons: And that he, as farre as his observation upon the Kings nature could reach, imagined no great difficulty to bring his Master to a faire accord: But that, as yet, the motion would be most unseasona­ble: Considering that after so vast a charge in le­vy of an army, and so universall an applause to the designe, his Majesty could not retire, untill at least he had led his Forces into France: and made some apparence of intending what so constantly he had pretended. Hee advised him therefore to let the army passe over to Callice, & thither to send his Herauld to desire a safe conduct for Embassa­dors: with order to make addresses to the Lords Stanley and Howard, and himselfe. And that the way should be prepared so plaine for King Lewys his purpose, that there should be no impediment at the worst to a faire respect: if not to a full satis­faction of his desires.

All this discourse past in private; In publicke there was caution, by the Kings strickt command given, that no French man should have any com­munication with him: And soone as possibly, he was dismist with many faire words, and thirty Ells of crimson velvet for reward. The King af­ter his departure, expressing in his looke and car­ryage, much cheerefullnesse and courage, either comforted by the faint hopes our Herauld gave him, or else cunningly dissembling his feares.

The order of this discourse betweene them, is delivered to us as a high reach of pollicy in King Lewys. But to an indifferent understanding it ap­peares [Page 138] nothing but the ordinary wit of cowar­dize: and certainly how covetous soever the ne­cessitie of his occasions made him to buy peace, yet his manner of traffique at this time was be­neath the spirit of a Prince. For although his lar­gesse to the Herauld wrought the wisht effect, yet he might have beene deceived by him, and by his so earnest desire to avert the present warre, have endangered it much more fierce upon him. Nei­ther could it be imagined common discretion to commune his feares to an enemy, who might per­haps betray them to the scorne of the English ar­my; or to negotiate peace with a Herauld (though even persons of much worth and understanding) yet commonly remote from the knowledge of the inwarder resolutions of state, But the manage of this businesse thus, tooke a good effect, and that concurring in a Prince, whose other actions were pollitickely ordered, made it have so happy a cen­sure.

Vpon returne of the Herauld, the King embar­qued for Callice, and after him followed his army. Which was transported in certaine slat bottom'd boates of Holland and Zeland, by them usually cal­led Scuts, lent as before covenanted by the Duke of Burgundy. And notwithstanding the commo­diousnesse of the vessells and the multitude, being five hundred in all, three weekes were they in their passage, among all the forces not being one page. Which as it instructs us in the vast numbers of the Souldier, so doth it in the strength and power; in regard they were all able men, who undertooke this enterprise; and who came not to learne but to make proofe of their knowledge in armes.

[Page 139]Soone as he heard they were certainly a shore, the Duke in all haste came to congratulate the Kings safe landing, and happy arrivall of the armie: for there was just ground for feare, that the French Na­vy might have endeavoured to trouble their pas­sage. But the Duke comming with a very small traine, much afflicted the expectation of the Eng­lish▪ who thought to have seene him march to meet them with five and twenty hundred men at armes well appointed, beside a large power of horse and foote: As by his Embassadours and his owne Articles had so amply and frequently beene promist. But to take away this suspicion from them for feare it might any way drive backe their thoughts toward England; he told them that his so private comming to the King, was onely to ex­presse his joy for the Kings safety and theirs: and that his army was further in the Country, so well prepared for the present designe; that they should have no reason to thinke him any way to have boasted. He therefore invited them to march up into the Land, where they might be better acco­modated, and conducted the King to Bullen: A Towne which having beene heretofore morgaged by the French, to Phillip Duke of Burgundy, with a large part of Picaray; was notwithstanding the often tender of the mony by Lewys, still detained violently by Duke Charles. There hee gave the English a free intertainement, and still kept their expectation high. From thence hee went with them to Peron, another Towne of Picardy kept upon the same termes. Into which hee admitted but few of the better sort of the English, and over those too he carryed a watchfull eye: The army forced to lodge in the field, which was the lesse in­conveni▪ [Page 140] convenient in regard of the Season of the yeare, and the commodiousnesse of pavilions and tents, with which they were so plentifully furnisht. The Duke perhaps loath to trust the armie in possession of so important a place, least their expectation irritated they might attempt to him some trouble. To Peron the Count Saint Paul sent to congratulate the Kings arrivall in France, to promise all service to his enterprise, and his townes to his use and command. Whereupon the King removed to Saint Quintin, over which Saint Paul commanded there to accommodate his Army; till the Dukes forces were in readi­nesse to take the field. But as some over-hastie Troopes having got the start of the Army came confidently toward the gates, expecting to be re­ceiv'd, if not with triumph, at least with all the de­monstrations of joy; the Artillery from the towne shot against them, and some of the Garrison issu­ed forth to skirmish, in which two or three of the English perisht. This apparence of hostility from a Confederate, confirmed the former jealousie of the Army, and raised a strange murmure both a­gainst S. Paul, and the Duke. Which increast by the difficulties of a tempestuous night, with which the English after were troubled: For an extraordi­nary raine fell, and made the so open lodging very unpleasing, with danger of diseases to the Army.

The Duke of Burgundy opposed against this discontent, with his authority; but in vaine: For not able to give satisfaction for his owne weake­nesse and breach of promise, he was more disa­bled to cleere suspicion from another. Whereup­on he tooke his leave of the King, intreating his and the Armies patience for a while, till he brought [Page 141] his Forces to joyne with them, and a full account from the Count S. Paul, of his Garrisons demea­nure at S. Quintin.

But this his departure compared with the for­mer carriage of things, begot yet a stronger doubt of their intentions in the English, who being stran­gers in that place, and not having any particular arme in conduct of the businesse; but onely a ge­nerall resolution to regaine France, interpreted these delayes and false play to direct treason. And began openly to inveigh against their owne folly in confiding on the promises of such, who indevo­red not the glory of the English name, or the Kings title; but onely their owne safety. For preserva­tion of which, under a specious pretext of recove­ring a Kingdome, they had seduced them into a strange Country, in hope hereafter to sell them to the French. And although this discourse were onely in the mouth of the common Souldier; yet did the thoughts of the Commanders participate with the vulgar; though not so freely opened For hitherto there had been no assurance given of any reall intention either in Burgundy or Saint Paul.

The much indignation exprest by the English upon this occasion was thought a strange kinde of rude ignorance, and a note even of barbarisme. Which censure savoures too much of malice; con­sidering it could not be judged blinde presumpti­on induced our Nation to this undertaking; the State, for it, having the fairest appearence of hu­maine reason, and the religion of the strongest oathes. And if the unexpected trechery of S. Paul ingendred choller; why should this passion be so contemptible; since an injury from a friend, is [Page 142] ever quicker and sharper to the sence; and all na­tions removed from their owne seates upon dan­gerous adventures, are prone to suspicion. And for ignorance in the Art of warre. [...] see not how by mallice it selfe it can bee obtruded upon the English; since their onely misery was too much experience in armes; which ever begets know­ledge. Neither could they be but skillfull even in the militar exercise of the Frecnh, few of the Soul­diery who were now of any age, but their youth had beene bred up and instructed under the com­mand of that great Captain Talbot Earle of Shrews­bury and others: Not full twenty yeares expired, since we turned our swords upon our selves, and gave France liberty to recover breath.

But this delatory way in the Duke, and treache­ry in the Count, prepared the army to a good thought of peace: And brought the two confe­derates, into more hatred then an open enemy. So that when an Herauld came from King Lewys, he was received into the English Campe with much humanity; and friendly invited by the Souldier, to refresh himselfe with wine and meate, till the King, who was then at dinner, were at leisure to give him audience. For Lewys, following the in­structions of our Herauld, soone as he understood King Edward was landed, and had heard likewise of some disgusts, appearing betweene him and the Duke; resolved to send to him, and attempt to perswade a peace: But so poore was hee in the outward ceremonies of Majesty, that no Herauld attended on his Campe: whereupon he was en­forced to suborne a fellow, of whose wit and con­fidence he had taken some notice, to act the part▪ Who having received full instructions from his [Page 143] Master addrest himselfe to the Lords Stanley and Howard, and the English Herauld, by whose aide being brought to the King, [...]e hansomely delive­red his message. The effect of which was: To show the great desire the King his Master had to live in perfect amity with all neighbouring Prin­ces, but above all with his Majesty of England, as who in the extent of Empire, and his owne Prow­esse was most considerable. That he had much reason to believe the present warre had not re­ceived the first life in England, especially not in the disposition of the King; which (as he was informed) abhorred the unnecessary drawing of Christian blood. That they who had first hatcht this quarrell, did it onely with their neigh­bours danger to procure their owne safety, and when they had made an advantagious peace, to conspire with him, who before had beene the common enemy, for beating backe their best friend the English. That he doubted not but that his Majesty would suddenly finde good ground for suspicion, when he should perceive the Duke of Burgundie, not able to bring into the field one entire regiment. All his Forces having beene ut­terly broken upon desperate services; to which an innate love to the warre had madly engaged him. Then he proceeded to excuse his Masters succouring the faction of Lancaster: To which he protested he never gave comfort for it selfe, but onely for the Earle of Warwickes sake. Whom he supported onely to affront Burgundy, whose irre­conciliable enemy Warwicke had ever profest him­selfe. And if he had inclined more to favour King Henry, he might well excuse it, in respect of his neere kindred to him and his wife Queene Mar­garet, [Page 144] and something too in reason of state, to op­pose Burgundy who pretended to be a friend (how false soever he proved to the house of Yorke. That if his Majestie would be pleasd to search up to the very head of this businesse, hee shall find more streames of assistance to have flowed from Bur­gundy then from France to King Henry; Duke Phil­lip and this Duke (till his marriage with the Prin­cesse Margaret) having most passionately labord the supportation of that family, to which they were so neare in kindred. The conclusion was to desire his Majestie to grant a safe conduct for a hundred horse, in whose company should come Embassadours enabled with larger instructions, and who should make proposall of such condi­tions, as could not bee rejected by the King or Kingdome of England, since they should be for the honour and profit of both: Vnlesse it would better stand with his Majesties liking to assigne a place of treatie in some village betweene both armies, to which they might joyntly send Com­missioners.

This message delivered in a soft tone, expressing much humilitie, and ever ascribing to the Kings greatnesse of Spirit and the nations glory; toge­ther with promise to make overture of conditions both honorable and profitable; begot a favora­ble audience. And many of the great Lords, who had plentifull revenues at home, were as forward as the King to listen to peace, and forsake unne­cessary dangers abroad. Neither did the greatest statists dislike a treatie, considering that all our warres in France had rather purchaste fame then treasure to our Kingdome, and when our Souldier returnd home, their scarres were greater then their [Page 145] spoiles. And howsoever we had at staits got pos­session of the largest territories in France, yet still wee retired back againe: As if the devine provi­dence had decreed to have our Empire bounded with our Seas. Moreover they who affected the happinesse of a Kingdome and loved their owne country, desired rather France under a forraigne governour, least if in possession of our King, England being the lesse both in extent and fertility, might be reduc'd to the condition to a Province, and live in obedience to a Deputie, enriching the greater Kingdome with her tribute. Other consi­rations likewise of the present state of the warres, prevail'd to get content for a treatie, whereupon with reward the Herauld was dismist, a safe con­duct granted, and the place for the Commissioners appointed in a Village neare Amiens. For the King were nominated, the Lord Howard, Sir Anthony S^t. Leger, and Doctor Morton: for the French, the ba­stard of Burbon, Admirall of France, the Lord Saint Peire, and the Bishop of Evereux.

This at the first meeting brought almost the treaty to a conclusion, for on both sides they brought mindes disposed to peace. And although the English Commissioners at first demanded the Crowne of France as due to the King by right; from which in honour he could not recede; and afterward with much apparence of difficultie condescended to be content with Normandy and Guien, yet they themselves knew well Princes ne­ver use to part with Countries upon treatie, be­fore the battaile hath imposed a necessitie to yeeld. And indeede the English expected not that Lewys would be frighted out of so important lims of the body of France, onely upon the braving of an [Page 146] enemy. Soone this first florish of businesses came to more easie termes. Edward desired to be gone without losse of honour, Lewys to have him gone with as much reputation as he desired. Edward had occasion of mony, and Lewys was willing to make him a bridge of Gold from Callice to D [...]ver, whereon to carry backe his Army. And shortly to both their contents an absolute atonement was made. Whereby threescore and fifteene thou­sand Crownes were to be paid to King Edward before his departure out of France, and fifty thousand annually.

Concerning the annuitie of fiftie thousand Crownes, there is much controversie among French and English writers about the name. They call it a Pension, wea Tribute. And certainly the later (to speake without partialitie to our selves) hath in it much more proprietie of language. For a Prince who over-awed by a powerfull Armie mediates by deprecatory massages to divert the battaile, and afterward buyes his safetie not onely with a present Summe, but an annuall pay­ment cannot have a freer name then tributary. And as for pensions they are granted upon peti­tion to the poorer and weaker, not upon feare to the mightier. But to compare the greater actions of Princes to the customes of Subjects: The three­score and fifteene thousand Crownes was the fine King Lewys payd for France, and the fiftie thou­sand annually the rent: Onely the farme was too mightie to be set, and the tennant too strong and stubborne ever to quit possession to his Land­lord.

Then for establishment of future peace (that posteritie might partake in the benefit of this ac­cord) [Page 147] it was concluded that the Princesse Eliza­beth, eldest daughter to King Edward, should mar­ry with Charles the Dolphin Son to Lewys: And for her present maintenance five thousand Crownes from France to be payd in the Tower of London; and after the expiration of nine yeares, shee and the Dolphin to be invested in the Dutchy of Guy­en. And that on the English side there might bee no fraud; upon payment of the first summe the Lord Howard and Sir John Cheinie Master of the Horse, were to remaine in hostage, untill the Ar­my were return'd into England. But that the King might not seeme to forget his confederates, the Duke of Burgundie and Britaine were comprehen­ded if they would accept the peace. The Count S. Paul was abandon'd in this treatie, as an effici­all servant and subject to the Crowne being Con­stable of France; and who by his dissimulation and treason, had most offended the nature of our King. And usually thus to reconcile great Princes, lesser are offered up for sacrifice.

This peace was generally receiv'd by the Army with applause, as by people who began to consi­der no victory before the battaile certaine, and in the battaile much hazard. Onely the Duke of Glocester, who stood aloofe off on the other side, for honour frown'd at this accord; and exprest much sorrow, as compassionating the glory of his nation blemisht in it. Hee repeated his jealousie of the worlds opinion, which necessarily must laugh at so chargeable a preparation to attempt nothing: And scorne either the wisedome or cou­rage of the English; when they shall perceive them in so full numbers, and so well arm'd to passe the Sea, after a defiance sent, and challenge to a [Page 148] Crowne to returne backe without drawing a Sword: Moreover to forsake the amitie of so con­stant friends, and in extreame necessitie to be­tray them beguiled by a common dissembler: whose shifts and trickes of state, like the slights of hand in juglers, are discovered, and wondred at by those fooles onely, whom hee cozens. And what carried with it an apparence of most danger, to necessitate the Duke of Burgundie to a peace with King Lewys, whereby both may hereafter joyne in a common league against us: Who by this one act have forfeited all leagues with our ancient confederates, and frighted any other Prin­ces from joyning with us.

With Glocester agreed many of the Army, who were either dependant upon him, or who had as unquiet thoughts as hee, some likewise, who ha­ving set up the rest of all their fortunes upon this gaine, found themselves undone in their hopes be­cause the Princes had drawne statues. But most of a discontented humour, that maliciously al­wayes interprets the actions of Princes to the worst sence. But the Duke of Glocester had a fur­ther and a more dangerous aime; as who by the dishonour of his brother, thought his credit re­ceiv'd increast, and by how much the King sunke in opinion, he should rise. And in regard good and quiet men were delighted in the accord he would be had to the wicked; and unquiet, and adde a luster to his faction by drawing the nati­ons honour to his part.

But why this peace should endure so hard a censure, both at home and abroad is strange, and above all why King Lewys should ascribe any ho­nour to himselfe, or thinke the advantage on his [Page 149] side▪ For what ecclipse soever the English glory suf­fered, certainly the French by a most servile way purchast safetie. They descending beneath the honour of men by mony to wave a battaile; wee being onely faultie in not having perform'd more then men. For if we consider our selves subject to the chance of warre, why was not an honora­ble peace to bee prefer'd? Especially since if wee had faild in the successe, how wretchedly had our forces beene broken in opinion, and how im­possible on the sudden to re-inforce the Armie? And if the French had declin'd the battaile into what necessities had wee falne, the Summer al­most paste, and both Burgundie and S. Paul refu­sing to let us have townes to winter our men? And if wee looke upon the peace it selfe, nothing is in it disadvantagious to our honour or profit. Considering it brought not onely a great present summe and annuall revenue, but brought it from the then greatest Prince in Christendome enforc'd by feare. And for convenience, the marriage of the Kings daughter to the Dolphin, could not be but esteemed of maine consequence, why then wonne that apothegme so much reputation, that reported our King to have gain'd nine battailes in which hee personally fought, and never to have [...]ost any but this? Since in this hee overcame a Prince of farre greater power then hee ever fought with before with no disadvantage, but that the victory was purchast without blood, which should be esteemed an addition to the glory of it. And if you cast your eye backe upon the course held in the most famed Empire, and especially in the Roman, which was the noblest, you shall finde they never refused their friendship to any [Page 150] Prince who supply (as Lewys of France to King Edward) requested it: And tooke more glory to have Kings their tributaries, then their Kingdomes farm'd out to a more profitable revenue. But of this enough, and but enough, since it tends onely to vindication of the English honour; which the French vaunted so much to have suffered in this treaty. In which they thinke us by their wits mi­serably overreacht, and perhaps indeed wee were, if the articles be onely judged by their feares, and not by the difficulties of our army at that time, and the just jealousie of the King that his confede­rates intended not his but their owne busi­nesse.

The newes of this Peace no sooner came to the Court of the Duke of Burgundy, but in all hast he poasted to the English Campe, attended onely by sixteene Horse. The distraction of his looke and gesture exprest the wildnesse of his thoughts; so that the whole Army discovered his discontent, before he utter'd it. His first addresse to the King was, in question of the truth of the common re­port that spoke a peace concluded betweene him and King Lewys? Which when he was resolv'd was true, hee presently broke into a most passionate fierce language. Obrayding the King with in­glorious sloath; and the indefatigable courage of former Kings of England: upon whose attempts waited ever the noblest victory. He made a scorne­full repetition of the mirth his enemies would make at his returne: as if hee had come over with so huge an Army, Merchant like to trafficke for a little mony: and the contempt hee must needs be­come to his owne people, when they should per­ceive the great conquests their contributions have [Page 151] brought home. And when it was intimated to him, that he and the Duke of Brittaine, were in­cluded in the Peace: he disdainefully rejected it, protesting the love he bore the English name, not care of his owne safety, had perswaded King Ed­ward to this enterprize. And to show how lit­tle dependancy his Fortune held on any other, and how without mediation of an allye, he was a­ble to make his owne peace; he vowed to conclude none with France, untill the English army had been three monthes at home. After hee had throwne forth these disordered speeches, in much discon­tent hee left the King: Who wondered to heare himselfe to disdainefully intreated: Having, sel­dome beene accustomed to any language, but what was pollisht to delight by flattery. But they who misliked the Peace, commended the spirit of the Duke, overjoyed to heare their unquiet thoughts, which feare restrained from utterance, so freely spoken.

But the Count Saint Paul, assertained of this accord, was seized upon by a farre other passion. For by dissembling with these three Princes, in hope to winne into love and reputation with the more fortunate; hee had offended them all, so farre, that hee knew not to which confidently to flye for refuge. France was irreconciliable, be­cause he had beene ever in practise against the qui­et and safety of that state: and who both by the tyes of allyance (as having marryed the sister of King Lewys his wife) and loyalty as who held much Land in France, and executed the place of Constable; being oblieged to seeke the preser­vation of his Country; had for many yeares nou­risht treason, and sometimes brought the Crowne [Page 152] it selfe to the hazard. Then from England or Bur­gundy, there was no probability of friendship, both having beene deluded by his promises, and in the last businesse at S. Quintin, provoked to the high­est indignation. For although the English onely sustained the losse in point of safety, for the present expedition; yet in point of honour, the Duke had his share in sufferance: Hee having before the Kings passage out of England, covenanted for the faith of the Count Saint Paul. But certainely the misery of a petty Prince is lamentable, and his e­state most unsafe, when there is any jealousie growing betweene his more potent neighbours. For Neutrality is incompatible with his fortune, in regard his Country shall then lye open to the spoyle of every army, if he deny to declare him­selfe, and if he declare himselfe; he must run the hazard of anothers Fortune. And oftentimes the very scituation of his Principality enforceth him to take part, not with the stronger or juster; but with the nearer neighbouring, as in danger of whose rage his estate is most subject. But in ad­dition to the misery of his Fortune, S. Paul had the unquietnesse of minde, raised up into a high ambition, by the cunning of wit. For he had so many, and so farre fetches in his imaginations, and of them some had prospered so much to his ad­vantage; that it made him presumptuous of his abilities to dissemble, and therefore continue in it; till at last the discovery tooke away all beliefe from his after pretentions, and happily too from his reall intentions. But among the greatest of his misfortunes, is to be reckoned, the time he li­ved in: For had he not met with so polliticke a Prince as Lewys of France, who had likewise the [Page 153] start of him in good lucke; he questionlesse might have attained some one of those many designes, he so wittily and probably contrived. But in the con­duct of their affaires, Princes shall finde a discreet honesty not onely toward God, but even to the depraved World, the safest rule of humane acti­ons. For the absolute dissolution of a state was never knowne to happen by observance of faith or Religion: and seldome in the time of a good Prince, I meane if his goodnesse were active, not over-ruled by evill Counsell to misgoverne­ment.

S. Paul in this distraction of thoughts endea­voured to recover a game quite lost, and made his addresses to the King of England; whom he believed to be of the easiest nature, and from whom he expected lesse severity, because the King had suffered lesse then the others by his dissimulation. He therefore first excused the distaste given the English at S. Quintin, casting the whole fault upon the unhappy rashnesse of his Souldiers billited in the Towne, and the jealousie of the Townesmen: Then hee advised him to be wary of giving too much faith to King Lewys, who was resolved af­ter the departure of the English army to observe no covenant: wherefore his safest course would be to demand Eu and S. Valerie to billet his Souldiers in this Winter; which he was secure Lewys his feares durst not deny; and by which grant hee would not be necessitated to so sudden a returne. Lastly, (observing the avarice of the Kings disposition in the last treaty) hee tendered him the loane of fifty thousand Crownes, and promise of all faithfull service in the future.

But the memory of former unfaithfull passages, [Page 154] and desire to enjoy the pleasures of peace, defend the King so farre to these new propositions; that it ended even in scornefull language of the offer­er, which drove S. Paul into utter despaire. For the King was not to be remooved from his new begunne amity with Lewys, which every day by the interchange of favours, and by laboring to ex­cell each other in confidence, gathered increase. For presently upon conclusion of the Articles be­tweene the Commissioners, a truce being made, untill the peace were ratified by the oathes of both the Princes; the English souldiers had free admi­ssion into all the French townes. And one day so great number of the army went to make merry in Amiens, as might have endangered the surprisall if there had not beene faithfull intentions in King Edward. But hee to shew the integrity of his mind, and to take away all occasion of jealousie of any underhand designe, sent to King Lewys to intreate him to give order for restraint, if by en­tering in so large multitudes the souldier endan­gered suspicion: which Lewys (never overcome in Complement) refused with many protestations of his confidence; onely desiring our King, if he disliked the absence of so considerable a part of his Army from the Campe, to send some Yoemen of his Crowne to guard the gates, in regard he was resolved no French man should stop the passage of the English. But our King strained his curtesie much too high, when to out-vye King Lewys his favours, he offered to give him a catalogue of all the French Noblemen, who had conspired with S. Paul in this warre; and had given faith to re­volt to the English. For as in the rule of common justice, this discovery could give no better an at­tribute [Page 155] to the King then that of state Informer; so could it not but infinitely prejudice the affaires of England; considering it would shut up for ever the passage to all intelligence, if this peace should chance to breake hereafter. And indeed by so vo­luntary undertaking that office, which an honest minde thinkes it selfe unhappy to be forced to, presents his nature to us most ignoble: since this treason was onely intentionall, and as the state of businesses now stood in France, reconciled to the English, it no way concerned the safety of his new confederate.

On the other side King Lewys showed himselfe most affectionate to the English, when, contrary to the circumspection of his nature, hee rejected all the suspicions of his Councell, who wisht him to be watchfull that King Edward by pretending this peace, did not betray him to a ruinous security: When likewise he sent such exceeding plenty of all provision to the English Campe, and liberally fea­sted those so innumerable multitudes, who day­ly resorted to Amiens. But perhaps some state Cri­tickes will interpret the former in him, not a good opinion of our faith; but a conceit of a dull igno­rant honesty in our Nation not quicke to take ad­vantages: and the later onely an obsequious way to continue us in our former resolution for peace. What ever passion prevaild with him in other cur­tesies, I am confident hee exprest more Noble­nesse then in any other action of his life; When he refused to destroy the English army; having oftentimes so faire opportunity, by reason of the many disorders the truce begot.

While these passages of endearement lasted be­tweene the two Kings, a place convenient for an [Page 156] enterview was found out at Picquigny, a Towne three leagues from Amiens, standing upon the Ri­ver Some. Commissioners to provide there should be no danger of treason in the place, for the King were the Lord Howard, and Sir Anthony, S. Leger: for the French, the Lord of Bouchage and Comines. In the choyce of which place Comines layes a grosse oversight to our Commissioners. For he affirmes by reason of a Marish on both sides the causey, on which the King was to come to the Bridge where the meeting was; his person might have beene in danger, if the French had not meant good faith. And if this were true, it certainely deserved a sig­nall reprehension; in regard the sad experience of those times taught, there could not bee too much circumspection at such an enterview: But the successe guilty of no infelicity; cleered the Commissioners either quite from the fault, or from much of the blame.

At the meeting there was as much interchange of curtesie, as could bee betweene two Princes. The French King was first at the grate (for these two Lions could not without danger of combat meete but at so safe a distance) and our King was a Gallant in manage of his body, by bending himselfe lower at salutation: In which he exprest youthfullnesse and Court ship. In their language was much of sweetenesse and endearing, and in their behaviour an apparence of a congratulatory joy. Each labouring to obtaine the victory in the expressions of a cordiall affection; and indeed the maine businesse tooke up lest part of the time. Twelve persons of principall name, attended on each Prince according to the nature of the Cere­mony, out-vying each other in the curiosity and [Page 155] riches of their apparell. On the English side the Duke of Glocester was absent, in regard his pre­sence should not approve; what his opinion and sence of honour had heretofore disallowed. And that there might bee no fraud nor treason; on the English side were foure of the French, and on the French foure of the English: who watchfully ob­served every word and gesture: So much jealousie waits upon even the most friendly meetings, and so suspected is the faith of Princes. Eight hundred men at armes attended on the French King, on the King of England his whole Army. Which set in battell array to the best advantage for the eye, afforded a prospect of much delight and bravery to them; who at a more unfriendly encounter would have trembled at the sight.

The Chancellor of England made an Oration congratulatory for the happy accord: whereby so much blood was preserv'd in the veines of both people, and so many blessings of peace like to en­rich both Kingdomes. His congratulation was intermingled with prophesie of future happi­nesse, which would grow stronger by the age of time; touching in that upon the marriage of the Dolphin with the Lady Elizabeth of England. But the good Bishop of Lincolne (for in him was then the office of Chancellor) in this showed himselfe a better Orator, then Prophet. Himselfe living afterward to disprove his owne divinati­on.

After the Oration ended, and the two Kings sworne to the forementioned peace, King Lewys something wantonly (as who knew how to tune his language best to King Edwards eare) invited him to take a journey as farre as Paris: where if [Page 158] any of the beauties should make him trespasse upon his chastitie; the Cardinall of Burbon (a gen­tle Ghostly father) should easily afford him abso­lution. The King in the pleasure of his looke ap­proved the faceciousnesse of the discourse; and found no great difficultie in himselfe to admit the off [...]r.

But King Lewys (who never used mirth but as a preparative for something serious) having wrought himselfe into the Kings good liking▪ and as he thought facilitated him to grant any re­quest, urged that the Duke of Brittaine might not remaine in the protection of the English: But that he might be left to his owne defence, against the just anger of the French, whom hee had so often provoked by open confederacies and secret pra­ctises. To which the King answered resolutely that hee never would forsake the care of a confe­derate, who had maintaind his faith so constantly. And afterward importuned by some great Lords, imployd to that negotiation by Lewys; hee not onely shewed an apparent distaste to the motion: but openly profest, that rather then the Duke should be endangerd in his safetie, he would for­get all other amities, and passe the Seas himselfe to his reliefe. Which shewed a noble disposition in the King and an advisd judgement: For the Duke had beene ever friendly to him in the worst of fortune, and in his better a most faithfull neighbour; and in this enterprize on France had used no dissimulation, nor in the least carriage of businesse betraid that faith at first he promist. In the protection therefore of him against the French, ▪the King shewed the gratitude of his me­mory; as likewise a polliticke caution that the [Page 159] Crowne of France might not grow too potent by warring with a weaker Prince: whose ruine could not but give to it a dangerous addition.

But this discourse touching the Duke was in private betweene the Kings: for Lewys to show the authoritie he had over his greatest Lords, had commanded them to retire when hee enterd into this speech. And in treating this businesse, which so nearely concern'd the pollicie of his intentions, he shewed a great art; not urging the King so farre, as that the deniall might come off with a distaste. But smoothly he gave it over, when hee perceiv'd him not easily to be remov'd: although with some inward difficultie to finde his affection so con­stant to the Duke: of whom hee had resolv'd to make a spoile, and to lay the first stone of his mightie building in his destruction.

Hee presently therefore diverted his discourse againe to ceremony, and after some short inter­course of courtship they both at the same minute parted from the grate, and tooke horse: pub­lickly giving very liberall commendations of each other. And how ever enterviewes are generally esteem'd unsafe for Princes; in regard the advan­tage falling of necessitie on the one part, throwes a contempt upon the other: yet this was both in probabilitie before and after in the successe most fortunate. For both Princes though of different complexions had equall preheminences; and by severall wayes came to stand upon even ground.

King Edward had the advantage in youth, per­sonage, and behaviour, which win suddenly up­on estimation: Lewys in the cunning of wit, and authority of his carriage, which although slowlier, [Page 160] sinke deeper in opinion. Edward had a daring courage ever seconded by a propitious fortune: Lewys a circumspect judgement which orderd bu­sinesses so sure, that he left scarce any thing to for­tune. Edward by his Sword had brought himselfe to the present greatnesse of his state: Lewys by his pollicie had setled himselfe in his fathers con­quests. And indeed so apparent was the equalitie of these Princes, that they both dispaired to gaine any thing by opposition: which made Lewys at any rate desirous to buy King Edwards returne; and Edward willing no more to traffique with Lewys, from whom nothing was to be got in the way of bargaine: What soever the one did by valour, the other likely to undoe by cun­ning.

This peace by all conjecture was likely to suffer in opinion at home, where by comparing the fortune of the present with that of former expe­ditions, expectation promist it selfe nothing lesse then the entire recovery of France. To prevent which the King had happily, perhaps judiciously (as who foresaw that the successe might end an accord) brought over with him many from Lon­don for their wealth of most reputation in the Ci­tie. These men whom plentie endeard to the love of life, soone as hee had resolved to decline the present watre, hee causd to be assaulted every houre with new feares: Representing to their af­frighted minds the horror of a battell; the many difficulties of a siege, and the certaintie of a time­lesse death if not by the Cannon or the Sword, yet by the inconveniences of lodging and the wea­ther, which the winter comming on was likely to be most tempestious: And if beyond hope death [Page 161] were escaped, how cruell might bee an imprison­ment, and how deepe the ransome. Then hee gave order that the Enemie should bee reported of farre more danger then indeede hee was, and every night false alarums to bee given. And for distrust already held of Burgundie and S. Paul hee let it bee augmented in the Army; causing ru­mors to be spread abroad that there was treason in them from the beginning of this enterprise; and that now they were prepard to unite their forces with the French to the utter destruction of the Eng­lish.

By which frights hee so moulded them to his desires, that they writ backe to their friends, the impossibilitie of any successe in the present busi­nesse, and the great judgement and fortune of the King, if he could conclude a peace, with advan­tage of honour. The example of this pollicie King Edward bequeath'd to Henry the seventh, who left none of his predecessors arts unpractisd that might advance eyther his profit or reputation. And so farre this desire of peace and delight in it spread it selfe, that when upon the day of the en­terview by accident a white pigeon lighted upon the Kings pavilion; and there pruned it selfe af­ter a shower of raine, the Sunne shining com­fortably, the Souldiers cryed out it was the Holy Ghost, who descended in that forme, to show how gratefull the present accord was to heaven. Which interpretation pleasd exceedingly the pre­sent humour of the King: Any superstition being nourisht in the subject, which tended to ad­vance the reputation of their Prince; especially when his actions are doubtfull to bee under­stood.

[Page 162]The night that ensued the enterview many of the English nobilitie resorted to Amiens; the French affabilitie, and something too of curiositie invi­ting them. The Lord Howard, who was alwayes foremost in his application to King Lewys, at Sup­per whisperd him in the eare, that hee conceiv'd his Master might bee perswaded without much scruple to make a journey to Paris; where by a friendly entertainement the new begun amitie, might be perfected.

But the wary King had no desire to bid so dan­gerous a guest to Paris; for feare the delicacies of the place might invite him, either to a too charge­able continuance there; or to such a love of the French aire, that it might perswade him to re­turne hereafter thither, though unbidden. Hee therefore chid his owne overforward straining a complement, and was forc'd to the invention of an excuse to take away discurtesie, from deny­all of that before ceremoniously he had offerd: he answer'd the Lord Howard thereupon suddenly, and to the outward judgement seriously, that hee was extreame sorry the necessitie of his unsetled state, would not afford him licence for so much happinesse: being presently to make an expediti­on against the Duke of Burgundie. Who was bu­sie in his preparations against him, so that with safetie yet, hee could not attend the pleasures of peace. Which answer gave but a halfe satisfacti­on; but the Lord Howard was devoted to his af­faires; and that made the rellish of it better with the King.

But that the King might neither reape all the benefit not yet beare all the blame of this peace, there were few Lords, great in opinion of the [Page 163] state, but shared proportionably in the bootie. Even the scrupulous Duke of Glocester returnd not home without a large present both of Plate and Horses. For when hee saw the whole streame of the Armie flow into King Lewys; either out of curiositie, or in pollicie loath to particularize an enmitie upon himselfe from so potent a Prince, he went to him at Amiens, where hee found a re­spect answerable not onely to the greatnesse of his blood, but to the extent of his judgement and authoritie.

But with him King Lewys dealt with more cir­cumspection; knowing it impossible to winne ground upon him by any slight or strength of wit. The good affection of all the other Lords he bought up, according to the ordinary course in Markets: As they were worth more in the Kings esteemation, so were they at a higher price with him. The principall men of name who were in pension as wee find them in History, were the Lord Hastings, Lord Chamberlaine to the King, the Lord Howard, Sir John Cheiney Master of the Horse, S. Anthony, S. Leger, and Sir Thomas Montgommery. Among these, beside the present guifts, hee annu­ally distributed sixteene thousand Crownes, and exacted from every man an acquittance for the receit. Which no man refused, but onely the Lord Hastings, denying absolutely that ever his hand should be seene among the Kings accounts at Paris; but welcom'd still the pension, which with­out that formalitie was continued.

At how high a rate King Lewys prized his ami­tie with England by this profate liberalitie (a qua­litie so contrary to his parcimonious disposition) is easily to bee judged. But how lawfull it was [Page 164] in the receivers, I will not too severely censure. For although in this Kings raigne, as likewise in the time of Henry the seventh, many of the great Counsellors were in pension to Lewys, and after­ward to his Sonne Charles the eight, yet is hard to judge how it could agree with the decorum of their dignitie: It being much beneath the honour of a noble mind to owe any part of their revenue to a Prince, whose safetie and advantage must ne­ver be in the first place of their care. In peace it may happily not carry any apparence of disloyal­tie, because by their good offices they may de­serve that way of gratitude; but in times of jea­lousie, and especially of enmitie it can no way bee allowed. For though the Pensioner give no under­hand intelligence prejudical to his Country; yet by a certain necessity of gratitude, it stops the freedom of advice, and renders him however undeserving to the one. Rewards are given for forepast merits, pensions to retaine in future: he therefore who re­ceives a pension, obligeth himselfe tacitly to the service of two Masters: And oftentimes the se­cond in his thoughts, is that Prince to whom hee owes a naturall dutie: An extrordinary way of benefit begetting an extraordinary diligence. And hence proceeds that maladie in the body of a state, which inclines it so totally to one side: that all injuries how grosse soever are connived at from one neighbour; while from another the least shadow of offence begets mortall warre. But if these pensions bee receiv'd with approbation of the King, certainly as they are lawfull, so like­wise are they lesse dangerous: for then the state is armed against the advice of such, whom they know to leane to one side: The crookednesse of [Page 165] counsell being easily discern'd, when not boul­sterd up with simulation of integritie.

And questionlesse the distribution of these Crownes like a dangerous poison disperst it in some principall veines of a body, infected the whole Court. And though perhaps the secret re­solutions of the King and state were not betray'd to him; yet was his intelligence larger than con­venient for so cunning a neighbour: Who out of slight and triviall occurrences, such as were but Chamber talke, could guesse at the most reserv'd counsels. Neither would those so apparent affronts offer'd by him afterward, have beene so patiently dissembled; especially the King knowing him a timerous Prince, and who trembled at the very thought of a returne of the English into France; had not they whose advice was most listend to, passio­nately excused him in every charge the more zea­lous statists layd to him.

But these mischiefes the yeares succeeding were guiltie of; for the present the King full of joy and treasure returnd toward Callice: And indeed with more then ordinary haste and caution for feare the Duke of Burgundy should attempt any thing upon his retreat. But with safetie hee both came thither, and sayld to Dover; whence in much pompe he directed his journey to London Vpon Black Heath the Lord Major and the Aldermen in Scarlet, and five hundred Com­moners in murrey receiv'd him; and thence with all ostentation of triumph conducted him through the Citie to Westminster. And perhaps hee gave or­der the solemnitie of his returne should bee more glorious, to set off the shortnesse of his stay in France, and the small or no honour purchast there. [Page 166] The vulgar for the most part valuing the glory of the victories according to the information of the Ballad, and the glittering of the Pageants.

The French King, who ever affected the sub­stance, smild at these huge shadowes: and never quarreld with King Edward what pompous titles soever he assumed in receiving the forementio­ned sums of money. Willing that hee should hus­band his actions of least worth to the greatest ad­vantage of credit with his people. While hee on the contrary, in all businesses never heeded what judgement opinion gave; and so his ends were effected, cared not by what sordid or humble meanes: Whereupon presently after the departure of the English, notwithstanding the many inju­ries received from the Duke of Burgundy, he came to treatie, and suddenly to agreement with him: In many points unexpectedly yeelding; onely that hee might revenge himselfe upon the Count S^t. Paul, for him hee accounted the Conjurer, who by his dissembling charmes, had raisd those so many and so tumultuous spirits against the Crowne of France: And till hee were destroyed, King Lewys conceiv'd it impossible to remaine safe from civill or forraigne warre.

It was therefore agreed betweene these two Princes that what places had beene wrested away in the former troubles, should be immediatly re­stored: and which of the two could first surprize the Count S^t. Paul, should within eight dayes put him to death; or deliver him up to the discretion of the other. By which agreement the wretched Lord found how inevitable was his ruine: And considering the vanitie of any hope that might perswade to defend himselfe against so potent [Page 167] enemies he enterd into discourse with his owne feares, to which he might make his addresses with more probabilitie of safetie. And knowing the immoveable resolutions of King Lewys, and how impossible it was to deceive a Prince so cunning in the Art; he resolv'd to make tryall of the Duke. Who disdainefully receiv'd the first offers of his service; but in the end, overcome by importu­nitie hee granted him safe conduct: Relying on which he poasted to him, but soone found his ru­ine by the want of that faith, which himselfe had never observ'd.

For the Duke notwithstanding the safe con­duct, gave command hee should be imprison'd, and not long after deliver'd him up to the French King. Who caus'd processe to bee made against him; certaine Letters written to King Edward and by him deliver'd to King Lewys, being the chiefe articles of accusation, by which hee was con­demn'd: and for which not long after he lost his head. Hee imbraced death with much resoluti­on, onely somewhat astonisht to meet it upon a Scaffold; the manner, not the thing it selfe, ama­zing him. But the officiousnesse of the King in de­livery of those papers to the condemnation of his wives Vncle, and a confederate was certain­ly trecherous and ignoble; and makes his me­mory sound harsh in the eare of any worthy minde.

And indeede he was on the sudden become so passionate a debtor on a reconcild enemy▪ and so passionate an enemy of his late friends: That when he understood of the treatie of peace at Ver­vins betweene the French King and the Duke, hee sent over Sir Thomas Montgomery with instructions [Page 166] if possible to breake it off. Who urged that the Duke should not bee admitted to treate of him­selfe, but onely as mention'd in the King his Ma­sters peace: that if the Duke refused to treate in that manner, and the King any way suspected his owne strength; his Master would the next Sum­mer crosse the Seas and joyne his forces with him: Conditionally that halfe the wages of his Army might bee defraid by the French, for whose ser­vice the warre was to be undertaken; and that he might be allowed fiftie thousand crownes annu­ally in respect his losse would amount to the va­lue, by reason the English Woolls at Callice could during that time have no vent into the Nether­lands. To such an over officious friendship did his new malice to Burgundie, and the counsaile of King Lewys his great pensioners incline him; that hee voluntarily offer'd without respect of glory or hope of profit, to fight like a journeyman for a Prince, whose growth in power could not bee but most unsafe even to him, and dangerous to his kingdome.

This embassie King Lewys receiv'd with appa­rence of much content, congratulating the felici­tie of his owne arts, that had brought the King to so obsequious a respect: but he no way desired to see him any more in France, especially not to pay for his presence, whose absence hee had late­ly bought so deerely. Hee therefore return'd ma­ny thankes for the offer'd favour; but withall shewed how much too late it came, in regard the truce was already concluded betweene him and the Duke: from which being now sworne to it, he could recede neither in honour nor religion. But that the world might understand how scrupulous [Page 169] he had beene in preservation of the King of Eng­lands reputation; the present truce varyed not in one point from that sworne at Picguinie: except onely that the Duke was admitted to article for himselfe apart: which indeed was the maine thing the King endeavoured to have prevented; since by articling apart, the Duke showed his in­dependance; and that the English by their armes, had no way advanced his businesse.

But that this answer might indanger no misin­terpretation he liberally presented the Embassa­dor, and sent over with him the two hostages, the Lord Howard, and Sir John Chiney. For King Lewys continued still in much caution to offend the King, least perhaps he and the Duke of Bur­gundy, though now asunder, might like a limbe broken and set againe, knit the faster. Hee was therefore diligent to increase every day new dis­contents betweene them, and to preserve the Eng­lish, in their amity firme upon any termes: know­ing the Duke by no pollicy ever to be reduced to a perfect friendship. And so farre had his cun­ning and pensions prevailed, that nothing was more in the vote of the English; then to preserve King Lewys safe in his estate at home, and noble in reputation with us. But among all the ties which kept the King surest to him, the hope of marrying the Dolphin with his Daughter; and this way at least to settle the Crowne of France in his Posterity, most prevailed. Of the reality of which article, the French permitted not the smallest occasion to be given for suspicion.

This intention of entering into warre with the Duke of Burgundy, being crost: the unquiet Na­ture of some Princes, ever affecting to beget trou­ble [Page 170] to themselves, that the King might feele no perfect rest, receives the former jealousie concer­ning the Earle of Richmond. But why the reducing him into this powre, should so much perplex the state is beyond reach; unlesse it were a divination of future accidents, which instructed the Kings feares to expect danger from him: who neither in the point of justice nor strength was for the pre­sent considerable. For if we looke upon his facti­on at home; the civill warres had ruin'd them so low, that no person of authority had any rela­tion to him, except the Lord Stanley: who being Father in law to him might perhaps wish his for­tunes well, but bore a most faithfull mind to the King, in whose especiall favour he continued to the last: And if we consider him as his neerenesse in blood to King Lewys might render him formi­dable from abroad: Certainely there was no just ground for suspicion: The French being so lately enter'd into a particular amity with England, and never having afforded either comfort or counte­nance to the young Earles exile. Then for any claime to the Crowne, the King could not feare him, his title being of so impure and base a met­tall, it could no way indure the touch. His Mo­ther, by whom onely he could pretend, heire in­deed of the house of Sommerset, but not of Lanca­ster, in regard the streame of this descent was poi­soned in the very Spring. For John of Gaunt ha­ving entertained an affection to Katherine Daugh­ter of Sir Paine de Ruet, during her attendance on the Lady Blanch his first wife: in the life time of his second the Lady Constance, his affection grew into a neerer familiarity, and so happy was he, that his familiarity proved not barren: his Mistris [Page 171] (for to what a servitude doth lust betray a sinner?) making him Father of three Sonnes▪ and a Daugh­ter. The Duke zealous to reward any that had so well deserved, marryed his bedfellow to Sir Otes Swinford, and either through impotency or conscience afterward refrained her company. Some yeares past (she having buryed her Knight, and he his Dutchesse) in gratitude to her former merits being now growne very old, he tooke her againe to his bed, with the lawfull ceremonies of the Church: And thus his ancient Concubin became his new Bride: Having righted her honour, to leave no monument of their sin to posterity, he la­boured the ligitimation of the children: and so farre in the time of Richard the second, prevailed; that both the sentence of the Church and Parlia­ment pronounced them lawfull, and enabled to inherit the Lands of their Father, in case his issue by his former wives should faile. The eldest Son of the three, thus ligitimated, was John created Earle of Sommerset, Father of John Duke of Som­merset, whose sole Daughter and heire Margaret, marryed Edmond of Haddam, Earle of Richmond, whose Sonne Henry was now the marke at which all the arrowes of the Kings suspicion ay­med.

By this Pedegree, to the eye at first appeares so me dawning of a title, but certainely it is a false light, such as oftentimes deceives the credulous travel­ler. For the legitimation by the Church was to take away as much of scandall, as possibly, from the children: and a dispensation onely for the be­nefit of the bastards, without prejudice to the right of any other. For these bastards were not of the common nature, such as after marryage may make [Page 172] legitimate: being not Naturall but Spurious; be­got in adultery on the one side, and consequently incapable of any benefit by dispensation. Adde to this that not being of the whole blood (accor­ding to the common Law of England) the house of Sommerset was farther of from inheriting any title from King Henry the sixt, then the most re­mote of the line of Yorke. Lastly, in the very le­gitimation it selfe, the children were onely made capable to inherit the estate of their Father. The Crowne being never mentioned: and for the Dutchy of Lancaster they could not pretend, that being the inheritance of the Lady Blanch his first wife, from whom they no way descended, Nei­ther were the Princes of the house of Sommerset ever numberd among the Plantaginets, or ever obtai­ned so much as to be declaired heires apparent, if Henry the sixt; and his Son Prince Edward should extinguish without issue. As Mortimer had got to be before in the raigne of Richard the second, and Delapole after, during the usurpation of Ri­chard the third. And if there were any cause of suspicion from the branches of that Family; then was the Duke of Buckingham, much more to be feared: Who was by his Mother heire of Edmond Duke of Sommerset, and himselfe a Prince, mighty in descent otherwaies from the Crowne, as being heire likewise of Thomas Duke of Glocester, young­er Son to Edward the third. Moreover in the fa­ction of a great kindred, and dependancy of a multitude of tennants, farre more to be suspected: Then an exild Lord, who claiming by his Mother, could during her life have no colour of a Ti­tle.

But the King found the wound of this jealousie [Page 173] ranckle in him, and nothing but Richmonds ap­prehension to heale it. He therefore most ear­nestly sollicited the Duke of Brittaine, by his Em­bassadors to returne him into England. Their mo­tives were, the much good will the Duke owed their Master, who never would forsake his pro­tection; though severall wayes and at severall times most importunately provoked. That he had in answer to the French requests to that pur­pose protested; that if the Duke were any way endangerd by them, personally to crosse the seas, and make the quarrell the same, as if his owne kingdome were invaded. Then for the inno­cency of the Kings intentions toward the Earle; they affirmed that so far from malice the desire to have him returnd into England was, that it meere­ly tended to his present safety and after honour. In regard his Majesty would not onely restore him to the possessions of his Ancestors, but en­deare him in a neerer tye, even by the marryage of one of his owne daughters to him, and this blessed way absolutely to roote up all the ancient rancor betweene the houses of Yorke and Sommerset. This was the pretention, which though the King no way intended, yet the Almighty afterward made good: to instruct after times, that the deepe mi­steries of cunning Princes are meere illusions compared with true wisedome; and the dispositi­on of kingdomes is the worke of Heaven.

By this simulation and tender of a large sum of money (for the King had learnt how to traf­fique by example of King Lewys) the poore Earle of Richmond was delivered up to the Embassa­dours; and immediately by them conveyd to St. Malos, the next haven Towne, where instant pre­parations [Page 174] were made for his transportation in­to England. Here fortune, or what is lesse uncertaine, the wind tooke compassion on his affliction (for the very imagination of the ruine he was betrayd to, had throwne him into a vio­lent Feaver) and hindred the Embassadours from taking shippe. Where while they remaind joyfull in the successe of their undertaking, Peter Landois Treasurer to the Duke, in apparence of a ceremo­nious visit, but indeede to contrive the Earles e­scape most officiously came to them. For no soo­ner had the Duke given up this innocent victim to be sacrific'd, but some of the Court sensible of the Law of Nations and their Masters reputation, to himselfe related the injury and dishonour of this action. And so farre aggravated the perpetu­all infamy that would cloud his fame by selling his guest to whom he had promist safetie and pro­tection; that the Duke repented the delivery of him, and advised Landois by some art to regaine him.

And indeede Landois undertooke the imploy­ment readily, willing perhaps to gaine the honour of doing one good deed among the multitude of his mischiefes: and likewise to revenge himselfe upon the evill memory of the Embassadors, who had forgot by their mony to make him an instru­ment in effecting this treason. This villaine (for hee was fittest for the businesse) so ordered the matter, that while hee entertaind the Embassa­dors in a most serious discourse, the Earle was carried into Sanctuary; and no notice given them till he was beyond their reach. Which when they understood, finding themselves defrauded of so great a bargaine, and even of the money [Page 175] layd out in the purchase: indignation transported them into bitter language against Landois. But he excused himselfe of the practise, and layd the whole fault of the misfortune upon their negli­gence: desiring that their carelesnesse in loosing a prey, might not be cast as a crime upon that re­spect he had shewed them in his visit. And when the Embassadors importun'd him by his authori­tie to force the Earle from the place: hee preten­ded religion to the Sanctuary, which if he should out of honour to the English but offer to violate; so great was the veneration the people hold it in, that they would tumultuously rise to prevent so bold a sacriledge. Hee advisd them therefore to give over this game lost past play; and prepare their excuse as cunning as possible to satisfie their King. And for his part, to show the zeale hee bore to the affaires of England, hee would take such order (and he knew it would stand with the approbation of his Master) that the Sanctuary should be severely guarded; whence if the Earle endeavourd an escape it should be into some place of safetie, where hee should be strictly imprisond, till the King of England were pleased otherwise to dispose of him. With this plausible discourse Lan­dois left the Embassadours to saile over, whom the winde, now too late, servd to carry backe. But the King, notwithstanding the fairest colours they could lay upon the businesse, and promise on the Dukes part to keepe the Earle safe from escape, cast upon them a sower looke. Misfortune to a Minister of state procuring for the most part as much disgrace, as if he had beene perfidious in the practise.

Frustrated of his hope to gaine Richmond into [Page 176] his power, but yet in part freed of all danger threatning from him, the King to give a lustre to that peace he had setled, began to addict himselfe to a profuse hospitality: A magnificent way of greatnesse, in which the Monarchs of this King­dome have in all ages exceeded, all the Princes of Europe. And upon all solemne times, when ces­sation from labour licenceth the vulgar to admire the glorious outside of a state, he showed a par­ticular bravery to the eye: by presenting as well martiall exercises in Iusts, Tiltings, Turnaments, Barriers and the like; as the softer entertainements of wit; full of an elegant curiosity for that time, subject to too much tumult and noyse to give birth to the best inventions. But of all solemnities the feast of Saint George, Patron of the noblest Or­der of the World, was celebrated with most splen­dor and pompe. Of which our common Croni­cles are so liberall in the relation, that they spare my pen the labour.

Among these delicacies of peace, the King for­got not to please his lust (the bastard of an idle se­curity;) And indeed impossible almost it was, that his appetite flatter'd daily with all the curio­sities of luxury, should containe it selfe severely within the bounds of modesty. For as by his other actions wee may judge, how little trouble his conscience put him to; and therefore not easie to be frighted from sinne by Religion: so on the part of his body, they who familiarly knew him affirme) that never man was framed by Nature more apt to the exercise of love, and whom a­morous Courtship did lesse missebecome. But Almighty God tooke not his naturall pronenesse to lust, for an excuse; but severely punisht him in [Page 177] his Sonnes: Who were both dispossest of the Kingdome and their lives by their unnaturall Vn­cle: There being so much apparence of right in the Vsurper by their Fathers incontenency; that even an Act of Parlament was made to bastardize them. And this sad judgement was provoked by the disorder of his lust: to which how can wee wonder if so easily he declin'd, since Majesty sel­dome admits of any instructions to a severe cor­rection of the appetite? Ambition to extend their dominions, hath beene ever recorded the noblest vertue in Princes: Who to lessen a neighbor state too mighty in the growth of Empire, or in hope to conquer some territory, to which the conve­niency, not the justice makes good the title; with­out scruple hazard large armies of their people: And confidently boast the victory, though the warre were grounded upon injustice.

While King Edward lived at home glorious in his quiet, this doctrine was listened to by Charles Duke of Burgundy, in following which he made so many injurious and unfortunate attempts. For af­ter his peace concluded with France, he directed his whole power to the destruction of the Duke of Lorraine. A Prince who in favour of King Le­wys, to whose fortune he had devoted his service, defied the Duke of Burgundy, when he lay at the siege of Nuze. And though this designe against Lorraine, might carry with it all probability of suc­cesse; considering the narrownesse of the Dutchy: Yet as it ought in judgment to have beene weigh­ed with the supports of France and other confede­rates in Germany, it might beare a face of much more difficulty. For it had not onely beene a per­petuall dishonour to King Lewys, but even a dis­advantage [Page 178] to his affaires, to permit a free spoile of so neare an adjoyning countrey to the Duke of Burgundie: whom for the present a blind revenge transported beyond reason, and made him warre with all crueltie, not onely against the Duke of Lorrain, where the victory might in some mea­sure recompence the cost; but against the Swit­zers, because they had sided with Lorrain, and made some irruption into the territories of the Burgonian. The Switzers, a poore people, un­knowne to the world, confin'd to a miserable life among their cold and barren mountaines: onely proud in opinion they had of their libertie, which was rather maintain'd by the fortune of the coun­trey inaccessible almost to an invading army, then by the valour of the people. Against these he led his forces, rejecting all those submisse and de­precatory Embassies sent by them, and that free acknowledgement of their povertie, when they protested all the wealth of their Countrey sum'd up to the highest value, would not be able to buy the Spurres and Bridle-bits in his Campe. Fortune in the beginning of this enterprise flatterd him to a continuance of the warre with prospe­rous successe, intending by that glorious baite onely to angle him to destruction. For soone the chance of warre turn'd, and in three battailes in one yeare the unfortunate Duke was overthrowne: In the last of which fought before Nancy, hee was slaine. A Prince who by his alliance, and continu­all intercourse of businesse, had much relation to the English: Whose honour and recovery of whose large territories in France, hee certainly from his heart desired And when he invited King Edward into France to that purpose, and there fail'd him [Page 179] of his promist succours, it proceeded doubtlesse not from any underhand practise or remissenesse in the undertaking; but onely by the misfortune of his Armie, somewhat broken not long before at the siege of Nuze. He was therefore a friend to us, if an ambitious man be sayd a friend to any: or rather so great an enemy to Lewys of France that he loved us onely in opposition; and desired our prosperitie, because it could not grow with­out ruine to the French. How just a governor hee was in peace appertaines little to our knowledge, and the world had little leasure to consider; hee was so everlastingly in Armes: In which as hee shewed great courage and judgement, so like­wise did hee commit much injustice. And who will examine what licence warre gives to injury, and how it imposeth almost necessitie of doing wrong; may in some sort excuse him. But his being ever in quarrells, into which hee enter'd and continued, as his passion, not his reason di­rected him: presents his spirit daring but turbu­lent, and his valour rash and inconsiderate, and takes away all pardon from his so many errors. The two great blemishes upon his memory, are his crueltie at Granson in Lorrain, where in cold blood hee caused all the inhabitants to be kil'd, the towne being yeelded to his discretion: And his perfidiousnesse to the Count Saint Paul whom notwithstanding a safe conduct hee delivered up to execution into the hands of King Lewys. The good men who ascribe punishment to the justice of heaven, observe that after these two crimes his fortune left him, and with dishonour death overtooke him, when he least expected it. Having at that time in his imaginations so many [Page 180] and so vaste designes, that scarce the age and for­tune of man had length and power enough to ac­complish them all.

The death of this Prince, having begot so much businesse in his life, diversly affected all the neigh­bour countries. Generally according to the cu­stome in private families, every state entertain'd it with such a passion, as the advantage or disad­vantage appear'd by it to themselves. Some few out of love to his person, hope of marriage with his daughter, or compassion of humane accidents griev'd at the report: But most exprest their sor­row, for the libertie King Lewys had attain'd by it, no man living now of power and will to op­pose him, should hee attempt injury, and offer violence to his weaker neighbours. For King Ed­ward was so infatuated by his Arts, that hee never startled at this great accident, nor looked how nearely it might concerne his owne safetie. So that notwithstanding hee were daily certified of new undertakings by King Lewys, he rested quiet, and gave free reines to his injurious ambition. Who soone as he understood of the death of Duke Charles, and perceived how open his countries lay to an invader: Pretended the Dutchy of Burgundy for want of heires male devolved backe to the Crowne of France, and by the armes of the Duke of Lorrain without further dispute tooke it in: In the meane time himselfe seizing upon all Picardie, which for many yeares had remain'd in possessi­on of Dukes Philip and Charles. And that he might have yet more occasion of quarrell with an un­setled Lady unable to withstand his opposition; he summond the Princesse Mary Dutches of Bur­gundy to come in person into France to doe ho­mage [Page 181] for the Countie of Flanders, and her other estates held in chiefe of that Crowne.

But she knowing how unsafe it was to yeeld her person up to a Prince who made his advan­tage of every opportunitie, delaid the homage, and stood upon her guard as strongly, as in so disorder'd a Countrey was possible. For though shee were Lady of many opulent and mightie Provinces, able if not to offend yet to defend themselves against the world; yet were the peo­ple stubborne and prone to rebellion, and who by the weakenesse of some of their Princes here­tofore, had purchast to themselfe too large im­munities. And indeed scarce any towne, but had or pretended to have such prerogatives, as deba­sed all authoritie of government: Which upon every change in state they revived, and endea­vor'd if possible to redeeme themselves from sub­jection. And this hope, more then ever, now pos­sest them, considering the unexperience both of the youth and sex of her that ruled: so that by ap­parence of their churlish carriage to the Dutchesse, and small preparations against King Lewys, who every day surpriz'd some place or other; they ra­ther desir'd to be exposed a prey to an insolent and cruell enemy, then indure the milde govern­ment of their lawfull Princesse. Shee therefore sent Embassadours to implore ayd of King Edward, and declare to him the urgencie of her present necessities. Who showed, that their Princesse the greatest inheretrix of the world, borne to a large and rich territory; was at the present in a condi­tion beneath the poorest subject that enjoyd but libertie: Being detain'd captive by the hands, which made restraint farre more unsupportable [Page 182] of her owne insolent rebells. Her delivery con­cern'd the King of England in generall as a Prince; and in particular, as a neighbour and an alley. Her tumultuous subjects, who had dared to attempt and act this treason, tooke courage from the French Kings declared enmitie. An injurious pro­ceeding in a Prince against a neighbour, which justly provokes all Christendome to unite in her defence, and punish so barbarous a proceeding in him. That the ancient league observ'd with so much Religion betweene England and the Low Countries, particularly did require his Majesties present ayd: and a consideration of what might happen perhaps in his owne posteritie in the same nature, did invite him to doe favours, as his might challenge to receive them hereafter. That even in the pollitique discretion of government it was conceiv'd that nearely it concernd the state of England to provide against so dangerous an ad­dition of dominion to the French: Considering King Lewys had already most injuriously wrested away not onely Peronne Mountdidier Tournay and all the rest of Picardie sold heretofore to Duke Phillip: But seizd even upon Burgundy the inheritance of their Princess. And what expresseth the inhumani­tie of the tyrants, and the hated malice of his inten­tions, sommons her at this present to do homage personally for Flanders and her other territories. Which sommons if shee obeyes; she certainly be­trayes her selfe into an everlasting captivitie or to a necessitie to surrender a large part of her inheri­tance for redemption: And if shee refuseth, shee indangers her whole estate to the surprize of a mercilesse enemy, who never wanted the pretence of justice to justifie spoile and rapine. They far­ther urged how their Princesse was not onely in [Page 183] her person restrain'd by her owne subjects but had not so much as apparence of any army in the field to oppose the invader. The Souldier being abso­lutely destroyd in the former unfortunate battells fought by her father in Lorrain: And the faith of all the Commanders who remained, bought up by King Lewys, and turn'd wholly French, with surrender of the Townes and Forts under their government. And all hope of any Levies at home vaine and false, the Commons by practise of the French King every where in tumult: and the few who wisht well to their Princesse affaires, either not daring to declare themselves, or suffering death or imprisonment for their faith. They con­cluded with intreatie that the King would engage his armes in so iust a quarrell; which as it could not bee but most honorable to his name and no way unprofitable, so likewise would it cast a per­petuall obligation upon their Princesse, and de­vote her power hereafter to his service.

This Embassie carried with it every way so much iustice, that it begot a generall approbati­on. For the opinion was, that England never had so faire an opportunitie to winne▪ honour to the nation, relieve an opprest Princesse, checke an in­soleut and unfaithfull neighbour, and provide for its owne safetie. So that in the Court no person of honour, not corrupted with the French pension, but passionately desired the undertaking: and thought it necessitie in every point, to begin this defensive warre. But the King in so deepe a le­thargie that no danger could wake him, nor touch of honour make him sensible; heard this with a faire respect, and dismist the Embassadors with some faint comfort. And though hee could [Page 184] not perceive what a cloud it would bee upon his reputation to permit so foule an injury to the young Princesse, and sit still: yet hee resolved to listen to the safer counsailes of peace, and beleeve (how improbable soever) the many protestati­ons of King Lewys.

Who soone as hee understood of these addresses to England, which at the very first hee expected, dispatcht his Embassadors to undoe whatsoever had beene wrought by the former sollicitation. And whereas the Dutchesse of Burgundie perswa­ded this warre by the arguments of honour and a generous pittie: Hee disswaded it, by menacing an absolute breach of the peace sworne at Piguig­nie whereby the King should bee frustrated of his tribute, and the so mightie marriage of his daugh­ter. Hee showed farther how it was not onely against the so neare amitie begun and likely to continue betweene them and their posteritie, but even against the custome of common confedera­cies, to hinder a neighbour Prince in league, when hee onely attempted the recovery of his owne right. And if the truth of his actions were layd open to the world, it would appeare the re-assumption of those townes into the power of France, what interpretation soever they might suffer among the ignorant or malicious, was but an act of justice. Since those many places in Picar­die were no way of right belonging to Duke Charles, but permitted him onely, to avoyd the continuance of warre: which was notorious to any man who would but call to memory, how they were morgaged to Duke Phillip. The abso­lute alienation of them from the Crowne having never beene eyther in the will or power of any [Page 185] French King. Then for the Dutchy of Burgundie; the originall grant and the common practise in French would manifest, that it onely was conferd upon the heires male: which fayling in the pre­sent Dutchesse implyes a returne of it backe to the Crowne whence it past at first by an inconsi­derate transaction. Lastly that his taking armes was onely to recover and iustisie his right, and reduce the Princesse Mary to performe her ho­mage, which never was denyed by any Earle of Flanders. And if there bee any infidelitie or tu­mult among her subjects; shee ought either to blame the evill disposition of her people to re­bellion, or the misfortune of her owne govern­ment.

This was the effect of King Lewys his answer at first, which the King was joyfull to have divul­ged, because it gave his slownesse to action, a spa­cious show of justice and discretion. But the re­liefe of the opprest Lady grew so much into the vote of the Commonaltie, and even the better sort of people bended so much to compassion, that the French began to suspect the King might be induced to undertake her protection. Where­upon new Embassadours came with new instru­ctions something more plausible then the former, in which they were to keepe the King upon any termes at home: These offerd to his Majestie a full relation of King Lewys his proceedings hi­therto; with promise to referre it wholly to him, if any violence had beene by the licence of warre committed. That their Masters ayme was so far from injury, that hee would submit to indifferent judgement all the passages in this quarrell: and bind himselfe to any restitution, the King of Eng­land [Page 186] should order. For all his desire these Armes was onely the reduction of his owne, and main­tenance of the prerogatives of the Crowne of France. And ever among these excuses he ming­led some discourse concerning the Dolphin, his so forward growth, and the great expectation of him: something too of the Lady Elizabeth, and the joy all France conceiv'd of the future marriage. Neither was the ceremony of paying the tribute ever omitted at the day, nor the great Lords for­gotten to be presented with their precious, and something too of addition to increase their dili­gence.

By these Arts hee won time, a merchandize hee then traffiqu'd for, and the purchase of which so nearely concern'd his present designe: For it was his, and certainly a pollitique course, to send of­ten and still severall Embassadors: who, if in their overtures they were contradictory, layd the fault on their instructions, and desired respite, till they had some farther understanding of their Masters intentions: and when any thing new was proposed; they imbraced it intreating onely time to informe the state of France. But when by frequent treating the businesse was come often­times to necessitie of absolute resolution: then suddenly was the Embassadour recall'd, and some new person sent to supply his place, wholly igno­rant, or at least pretending to bee wholly igno­rant, of all former passages.

At the length when hee saw there was an im­possibilitie, farther to dissemble, by pretending restitution of whatsoever had beene wrested away from the Dutchesse: Hee discover'd the trechery of his former carriage, and made propositions [Page 187] advantageous to the Kings profit. Offering if hee would passe the Seas with a full armie and joyne in the quarrell, to defray halfe the expence of the warre, and never forsake the English, untill hee had setled them in possession of Flanders and Brabant: so that the spoile might bee equally divi­ded betweene the two Kings. In this one over­ture exprest the deceit of his former purchase; to make which good he tenderd so great a brokage. But the King refused this proposition; Not out of conscience unwilling to enter upon estates to which he had no title: Nor greatnesse of spirit, disdaining to make advantage of the misfortune of a Lady opprest by an over-potent neighbour, and forsaken by an ungratefull and disobedient people: But onely out of consideration of the dif­ficultie. Since the townes were of strength to make resistance against the most powerfull Army that every Fort would require much time & charge in the gayning: and if gain'd would prove as cost­ly and difficult to keepe: The people though na­turally prone to innovasion, and upon the slight­est grounds ready to rebell; yet by no Art to bee so tamed, as to indure the yoake of a stranger. And if the conquest was still to be made good by Garrisons of English, the natives being both un­ruly and unfaithfull: It would draw much blood and treasure from England, and returne neither honour nor profit. Neverthelesse the King offer'd immediatly to declare himself in common league against the Dutchesse, and to leade over an Army royall into her territories, promising to share in all future danger if hee might be admitted to share in what was already conquerd. But that the French denyed as loath ever to quit possession: yet [Page 188] never so peremptorily refused any proposition, as to let the English, perswaded by despaire, to enter into new counsailes; even in their denyalls lea­ving some way open to expectation.

During this time spun out to the utmost length by these tedious negotiations, the French effected their, ends and almost undid the afflicted Prin­cesse. Who left no way untried that might leade her into a perfect friendship with the English, and engage their armes to her defence. Among the rest she tryed one which being singular in the e­vent deserves a particular observation. Either by her commission, [...]or premission, a motion was made of a marriage betweene her, and George Duke of Clarence who had lately buried his Lady. By which very overture shee doubted not but the King ambitious of so ample a fortune for his bro­ther, would runne into her quarrell. But, as some­times Phisicke misapplyed, it wrought a contrary effect, and with other circumstances procured his ruine. For he having by the levitie of his acti­ons weakned his reputation with the world in generall, and particularly drawne a hatred from the Queenes kindred upon him, the King and the Duke of Glocester likewise, having him eyther in contempt or jealousie; stood in a manner alone So that the very first whispers of this marriage were heard with emulation by some, with scorne by others, and with dislike by all. Which gave oc­casion that his destruction was suddenly plotted, and almost as suddenly executed. For the King, although he owed his restitution to the Crowne when he expel'd from England, to the Dukes re­volt from Warwick; yet he remembred more per­fectly the unnaturalnesse of his first rebellion: [Page 189] And howsoever hee showed outwardly all the arguments of a reconcil'd brother, yet certainly the memory of the injury at first remaind deepely imprinted in his minde. So that Clarence by his after service never regain'd that place in the Kings heart, which his former disloyaltie had forfeited. This he perceiv'd and repind against; and the King understanding that hee resented the truth, hated him yet the more: And so farre grew this hatred, that no discourse was more harsh to the Kings eare then that of Clarences marriage with the heire of Burgundie: By which it was suspected he being in­abled with power might hereafter prepare for re­venge. For according to the disposition of man he saw all his actions in a flattering glasse: Look­ing upon his revolt from his brother, as on an errour of seduced youth: and on his returne back, as on so great a merit, that it lay scarce in the Kings power to recompence: The King enjoy­ing by it all the greatnesse he possest.

Richard Duke of Glocester upon whose nature and friendship he built most, deceived him most. For Glocester who studied nothing but his owne purposes, and cared not by what violence all ob­stacles of nature and friendship were removed, so the way were plain'd to his ambition; endeavord to adde more poison to their discontent: Know­ing bad intentions never receive growth but from mischiefe. Hee therefore perswaded him to bee sensible of the Kings neglect, and boldly to ex­presse his sufferance: A silent patience being in a subiect loyaltie; but in a Kings brother cowardize. While on the other side he whisper'd the danger of Clarence his spirit apt to receive any discontent, and wanting onely power to seeke unlawfull re­medies. [Page 190] Whatsoever counsaile came from him receiv'd by the King with more attention and be­leefe; in regard of his great judgement, and pro­fessions of love to his brothers. And indeede Glo­cester much disdain'd the advancement of Clarence this way, not that hee had any particular ground for malice, but onely that he hated any man, and especially a brother, should have the start of him in fortune.

But the Queene and her kindred shallower in their spleene, spoke loud against him: while Glocester deepe in mischiefe was not heard to mur­mur. For they suggested continually to the King with what contempt they were intreated by Cla­rence; how all their honours were mentioned as mockeries: A [...] if the King wanted power to con­ferre his favours according to the discretion of his owne bountie. They urged the memory of his rebellion at his first marriage with Warwicks daughter, and the much more danger of his inten­tions in affecting so much greatnesse in the second. And so farre by aggravations of every slight er­rour wrought that the King was willing to have his brother suffer; but onely wanted some offence capitall enough, to make his death appeare an act of necessitie and iustice, not of plot and ma­lice.

It is generally receiv'd among the vulgar, and wants not the approbation of some Cronicles, that the chiefe ground of the Kings assent to his death was the misinterpretation of a prophesie: Which foretold that one▪ the first letter of whose name was G. should usurpe the Kingdome and dispossesse King Edwards Children. Of which there is much of probabilitie; however by his [Page 191] other actions I should not judge the King easie to beleeve in such vanities. For credulitie in that nature, falls for the most part upon weake minds, as those of women and children: or upon the ti­merous, whose apprehensions are softned to re­ceive every slight impression: or upon the over­zealous, whom an evill regulated pietie bends to superstition. And with these three the King had no participation in honour. Yet this serv'd for the present, and carried with him a strong accusa­tion against the Duke: for this prophesie was al­ledged to be spoken by some of his servants, who by Negromancy had understood this from the Devill: Which with other circumstances serv'd to hasten the King in this foule mischiefe.

The Duke was in Ireland, the Countrey that gave him birth, during the time of these contri­vances, nothing suspecting any designe against himselfe. Vpon his returne to the Court hee un­derstood that Thomas Burdet of Arrow in the Coun­tie of Warwicke Esquire, who ever was dependant upon him and ranne his fortune, had beene in his absence apprehended, indighted, arraign'd and executed all in the compasse of two dayes. The crime upon which his accusation was prin­cipally grounded, were inconsiderate words by which upon report that white Bucke was killd as the King was hunting in his Parke, hee wisht the head and hornes and all in the Kings belly, whereas indeed he wisht it onely in his belly who counsaild the King to kill it. With this accusati­on were mingled many other of poisoning, sor­ceries, and inchantments: Crimes which every ju­dicious man easily perceiv'd, were onely put in the scale like graines, to make his rash language [Page 192] full weight, which otherwise would have beene too light to deserve the sentence of death. These proceedings Clarence resented, as they were inten­ded, and expostulated with the King the injustice to his servant, and injury to himselfe. And ac­cording to the custome of expostulations, his words were bold and disorderly, and having re­ceiv'd an apparent injury built too much on the right of his cause, and provoked the King too far into indignation. So that soone af­ter hee was committed close prisoner to the Tower, where by Act of Parliament attainted, he was secretly put to death: the manner, as it is generally receiv'd, was by thrusting his head into a But of Malmesey, by which he was stifled.

In his attainder, according to the forme, are crimes enough to make his death have apparence of justice, the execution of which the King seem'd rather constrain'd to, then to have sought. For there are reckon'd, how the Duk of Clarence to bring the present government into hatred with the people, and thereby the present state into trou­ble; had not onely in his speeches frequently laid injustice to the Kings charge in attainting Thomas Burdet falsely, convict of many notorious treasons, but subornd many of his servants and divers others, corrupted with money, to divulge the like sedi­tious discourses. That he had spread abroad im­pious rumors that the King dealt by Necroman­cy, and upon offence against such of his subjects, whom by order of Law he could not destroy, hee was accustomed to take away by poyson. That he had not rested there, but whereby to advance himselfe to the Kingdome, and for ever to disable the King and his posteritie from the Crowne, had [Page 193] contrary to truth, nature and Religion, Viper-like destroying her who gave him life, publish [...] that the King was a bastard and no way capable to reigne: That to make this his so monstrous am­bition more successefull and already to begin his usurpation, he had caus'd many of the Kings sub­jects to bee sworne upon the most blessed Sacra­ment to bee true to him and his heires, without any acceptation of their alleigance: After which so solemne oathes, hee discovered to them his resolution to right himselfe and his followers, who had both suffer'd by the Kings violent wrest­ing away their estates: And in particular to re­venge himselfe upon the King, who (as hee most impiously and falsly suggested) had by art Magicke order'd to consume him, as a Candle consumeth in burning And, what most exprest that treason of his designes, that he had got out an exemplifica­tion under the great Seale of Henry the sixt late King: wherein was shewed how by the Parlia­ment it was enacted that if the said Henry and Edward his sonne should dye without issue male, the kingdome should descend upon the Duke of Clarence and his heires: Whereby clearely appea­red his intention, immediatly to possesse himselfe of the Crowne, with destruction of King Ed­ward and his children by pretention of a generall election of the Commonweale. This was the summe of his attainder, which wee may well be­leeve had not so easily past but by the Kings pub­like declaring himselfe, the secret working of the Duke of Glocester, and the passionate urging of the Queenes kindred. But this Attainder hath in it one thing most remarkeable, that Clarence here falsly was accused, by laying bastardie to the [Page 194] King, to endeavour possession of the Crowne: Which afterward was alledged indeed by Richard Duke of Glocester, to the absolute disinherit of the Kings Sonnes. Whereby Gods severe judgement manifests, how unsafe it is in a Prince, by false ac­cusations to condemne an innocent, or but to aggravate the fault of one lesse guilty, to the end that crueltie, may be reported an act of ju­stice.

The death of this Prince sudden and extraordi­nary; begot every where an extraordinary cen­sure: the unnaturall severity, taking away all excuse, even from their discourse, who most fa vour'd the King. At home it was generally con­demn'd, both in regard of the manner, it being prodigious to be drowned without water, upon dry ground; and the quality of the person: He being the first brother to a King in this Country, that ever was attainted. And what increased the murmure, a faction appeard at Court triumphing in his ruine, all the accusations were strangely wrested, and no matter of fact, scarce an inten­tion, proved against the state. Whereupon this punishment was thought to have beene inflicted upon him for no new attempt: His first taking part with Warwicke, being his onely crime. For which warre, though somewhat against nature, he had many examples in France, Spaine, and o­ther parts of Christendome: Whereas for the death of a younger Brother, upon bare suspition, the King could borrow no precedent neerer then the Turkish governement. But Clarence imagined the prerogative of his birth a sufficient defence against danger, and omitted to fortefie himselfe with faction: which laid him open to every assault of [Page 195] envy. And because hee had heretofore beene in opposition against the King, the libertie in cen­suring any defect in government was interpreted a desire to be in armes agen. Every word of di­staste being held criminall in him for whom the King was alienated by his owne disposition, open invectives of the Queenes kindred, and se­cret traines of the Duke of Glocester: who now be­gan to looke high over all respects of nature and religion. Hee was certainly ambitious beyond proportion, which made him so attentive to any new counsailes, and of an easie nature, which renderd him apt by practise to be wrought to mis­chiefe. He was a good Master, but an uncertaine friend: which delivers him to us to have beene, according to the nature of weake men, sooner perswaded by an obsequious flattery, then a free advice. We cannot judge him of any evill nature, onely busie and inconstant, thinking it a circum­stance of greatnesse to be still in action. Hee was too open brested for the Court; where suspiti­on lookes thorough a man, and discovers his re­solutions though in the darke, and lockt up in se. crecie. But what was his ruine; hee was whether the house of Yorke or Lancaster prevailed, still second to the Crowne: So that his eye by looking too stedfastly on the beautie of it be­came unlawfully enamord: And that being ob­servd by the Kings jealousie, hee sufferd as if hee actually had sinned.

While this mischiefe was secretly in contri­vance against Clarence, in the Court appeard no face, but that of jollity and magnificence. For at that time was Edward eldest son to the King (du­ring Christmas, to mingle the solemnitie with li­bertie) [Page 196] inaugurated Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornewall, and Earle of Chester; and his younger brother Richard, created Duke of Yorke. The fate of their honour and their ruine, being still the same. At this creation according to the ceremo­ny, many young Lords and Gentlemen of prin­cipall name were made Knights of the Bath a­mong whom Brian chiefe Iustice of the Common pleas, and Littleton, that learned father of the Lawes are registred.

But the publicke glory of these extraordinary pompes, and the wantonnesse of his private plea­sures, could not be maintaind with the ordinary revenue. Therefore to make good the expence of his owne errours, the King began to looke narrowly into those of his subjects: that by this art, in a manner, he might sinne upon free cost. And as it hath beene a certaine observation that the most delicate and voluptuous Princes have ever beene the heaviest oppressors of the people: Riot being a far more lavish spender of the com­mon treasure, then Warre or magnificence: so those parts of the Kings life, which were wantond away with varietie of delights are noted to have bin severest. But perhaps the subject repents not the free gift of the Kingdomes substance, when hee sees the returne of it in triumph: but repines if the least part of his contribution, bee the reward of pa­rasites, or persons to whom fortune not merit gives a growth. And Historians likewise have more leasure to examine the crimes of Princes, in the silence of peace, then in the noyse of warre: Or else Princes want opportunitie to inclose their thoughts to the studie of private gaine, when the Souldier in a manner layes the wealth of the king­dome [Page 197] open, and makes a common of every mans particular treasure. For now the King began to cause the Poenall Lawes to be put in execution, and wanting higher aimes, to looke downeward into every sordid way of enriching himselfe: So that a generall feare possest the people, that his after government would be both sharpe and hea­vie: considering the first part of it was not with­out a foule blemish in that kind. For in the se­venth yeare of his raigne hee proceeded against many of the wealthiest Citizens with so much se­veritie that it was repoted tyranny. The chiefe of them were S^r. Thomas Cooke, S^r. John Plumer, Knights, Humphrey Hewward and other Aldermen: And their crime in their having given assistance to King Henry. Which considering the circum­stance of things could hardly beare any capitall ac­cusation had it beene clearely proved: but against these men there was no testimony, but what was forc'd with torture; and even that testimony, not high enough to bring them to the barre; yet the King commanded them to be arraigned of high treason at Guild Hall; and withall exprest an ear­nest desire that upon any tearmes they might bee found guiltie: Their wealth being the principall witnesse that gave evidence against their lives. But the Iurie well directed by Sir John Marckham Knight, chiefe Iustice of the Kings Bench, acquit them of their treason. Which neverthelesse re­least them not, their estates however found guiltie; and the greatest part escheated to the King. VVith the offenders the Iudge was condemn'd, and be­cause hee prefer'd his integritie before a severe command, made forfeiture of his dignitie.

The memory of these carriages heretofore in a [Page 198] businesse that concern'd the life of man reputed innocent, drew the world into much feare that hee would now decline to rigour. Nei­ther was the King totally excused, although this cruell avarice was laid to the Queene: who having a numerous issue and kindred, by favour raisd up to the highest titles; was almost necessitated, for supportance of their honours, to wrack the King­dome. And happily the universall malice that waited on her and hers, serv'd well for the King: They being as a screene betweene him, and the unwholesome ayre of envie: which other­wise might have endangerd his reputation with the people.

From this rugged way hee was soone diverted by necessitie to looke abroad, and perhaps by the gentlenesse of his nature, or repentance of his former severitie. For the face of the world ad­joyning began von the sudden to change, and while the Kings of England and France, were divi­ding the territories of the Dutchesse of Burgundie: a third stept in, and got possession of her and her rich countrey. Maximilian, Arch Duke of Austria, sonne to the Emperour Fredericke the third, enter­tain'd heretofore politckly by Duke Charles was now seriously invited to this marriage. For the Lady dispairing to receive succours from the English, to the affection of whom she was perhaps inclined by the neighbour-hood of the countrey, and perswasion of the Dutchesse Dowager whom deservedly shee much honourd; condescended in the end to the desire of her subjects: who ever la­bord to marry lier to some Prince of Germany, in regard of the nearenesse in language and concor­dance in dispositions. And although the heredi­tarie [Page 199] countries of this Prince lying farre remote, were unlike to bee any support to her weakned state: yet considering him as sonne to the Empe­rous and in probabilitie like to succeede (for in an elective Kingdome scarce ever is the heire put by, if equally deserving) he might appeare necessary to her present affaires. For he was young of a no­ble spirit, strong and healthfull in constitution, bold in any attempt of honour, and what wonne upon the affections of the Low countreymen extraordinary affable and courteous. I know both his actions and the histories of that time deliver him to us of no deepe judgement, and so negli­gent that he ever left things imperfect, oftentimes in maine businesse betrayd by his credulitie. But this I impute to him as an errour of the climate under which he was borne, and a certaine gene­rous honesty, which is above suspition. The mo­tion of this marriage was imbraced with much joy, to accomplishment of which hee instantly prepared. Neither could King Lewys with all his Engines batter the resolution of the Emperour, who though a most passionate lover of peace (which oftentimes hee bought with losse) ran the hazard of a warre from France, rather then let his sonne loose the advantage of so great a Coun­trey. And suddenly sent him to the Dutchesse, attended by many great Commanders, who a­mong a people so opprest with armes, would bee the best witnesses of a marriage. His presence, although it did not absolutely turne the streame of Fortune, yet gave a stay to the French conquests: And after he appeard in the quarrell, victory doubt­fully inclind, sometimes flattering Maximilian, at other times King Lewys: Maximilian by his brave [Page 200] valour, overtaking Lewys who had the start in ex­perience and pollicy. So that frequent truces were concluded betweene them, and unfaithfully ob­servd: the first opportunitie of advantage renew­ing the warre.

Lewys handled these businesses apart, never ad­mitting King Edward, though hee ever officiously labord to interesse himselfe, into any part of the warre of peace. For as hee knew the strength of his understanding such, that hee in treatie could loose nothing by the Arch-Duke; so he well con­sider'd, that the safest way to preserve the English in amitie, was to keepe them at home. Whereup­on he frequently entertaind the King with Em­bassies full of curtesie, such as might appeare ra­ther the arguments of a sincere friendship, then the forc'd expressions of ceremonie. And ever communicated with him his private counsailes, requiring his faithfull advice, when indeed hee reserv'd his resolutions of any high nature whol­ly to himselfe, & all in the conduction of affaires, though hee would listen to the opinion of King Edward, he still obeyed his owne. But this, with his other Arts continued his reputation good with the English, and purchast that quiet, he su­spected might by our armes be interrupted.

And what renderd his securitie the more, trou­bles began betweene us and Scotland: which wee may well beleeve hee underhand increast. The occasion of them was, the evill inclination and ungovernd spirit of James the third, who disdai­ning to listen to the temperate counsailes of sober men, obeyed onely his owne judgement; which passion threw headlong into rash attempts. The freedome of advice by the Lords of that countrey [Page 201] used toward their Princes, renderd the speaker hatefull; and frequently was rewarded with im­prisonment or exile; if not with death. Among the multitude of them disfavour'd by him; Alex­ander Duke of Albanie the King of Scotlands brother banisht into France resented the injury, and en­deavor'd revenge. So that as hee past through England towards his exile; being admitted to the King by all arguments he incenc'd him to a warre; Which could not but prove most successefull, the hatred of the Commons consider'd, against so vio­lent an oppressor. And he protested that he knew the King falne into so low esteeme even with those he cherisht, and into such hatred with all mankind; that if assaulted by the English, he would be constrain'd, by submission of his Crowne to intreate for safetie.

This importunitie of the Duke of Albanie soone prevail'd with the King: who by many injuries had beene exasperated, and had onely waited op­portunitie to warre upon Scotland. For the boders on the English side had beene often infested, and upon complaint no redresse, nor reparation of da­mage. Moreover the King having heretofore condiscended, upon a motion from King James, that his second daughter the Lady Cicilie should marry James Prince of Scotland; and upon the a­greement paid in a large part of the portion: had receiv'd no satisfaction to his expectation The Ar­ticles of marriage neither being performed; nor yet the money lent, upon the bonds of the Pro­vost and Merchants of Edenborough, according to covenants repayd. Hee was therefore the sooner wonne to undertake the businesse, which he com­mitted to the order of the Duke of Glocester, who [Page 202] now had no competitor in greatnesse both of judgement and power: No Prince of the house of Yorke remaining, but such whom the want of yeares, or love of ease indisposed to action. For the King willing to decline labour, waved the ex­pedition; and Glocester ambitious to gaine opi­nion, especially with the Souldier, most forward­ly undertooke it. The King desired to live to the best advantage of his pleasure: Glocester of his ho­nour. And indeed Glocester began now like a cun­ning Phisition to examine the state of the Kings body, which though he found strong and health­full, and by the ordinary reckoning of men likely to continue many yeares, yet withall he observed evill symptomes of death in him, being over­growne with fat, and both in his diet and lust subject to disorder. Disorder a greater enemie to mankind, and which hath destroyd more then age, the sword, or pestilence. This Glocester per­ceiv'd, and hence drew poyson, which sweld his ambition higher.

He therefore with much alacritie prepared for the warre, and with the title of Lievetenant Ge­nerall soone after set forward toward Scotland. The Armie consisted of two and twentie thousand five hundred, all commanded by men of great au­thority or experience. Of the nobilitie in his re­tinue went Henry Earle of Northumberland, Thomas Lord Stanley, Lord Steward of the Kings house, the Lords Levell, Graistock, Fitzhugh, Nevill, and Scroope of Bolton: Of Knights, Sir Edward Woodvile, brother to the Queene, Sir William Par, Sir John Elrington Treasurer of the Kings house, Sir James Harrington, Sir John Middleton, Sir John Dichfield and others. The particular names of whom I menti­on, [Page 203] onely to show how great a shadow Glocester began to cast toward the Sunset, both of the Kings glory and life. The Vantguard was led by the Earle of Northumberland, the Rereward by the Lord Stanley, the Maine battell by the Duke him­selfe: In whose company was the Duke of Albany: Glocester willing perhaps to have him still in sight; least if apart, with sale of the Army, he might pur­chase his owne peace.

Their first attempt was upon Barwicke (sur­rendred heretofore by Queene Margaret to gaine a sanctuary for King Henry, when expelled Eng­land) into which partly by terrour of their For­ces, partly by the suddennesse of their approach, they enterd without opposition. The towne was soone at their discretion; but the Castle, the strongest Fort then in the North, by the Earle Bothwell, was made good against all battery. Glo­cester foreseeing by the strength both of the place, and the Commanders resolution, that this siege would spend much time, committed the charge to the Lord Stanley, Sir John Elrington, and Sir William Par, with foure thousand Souldiers: while he with the body of the Army marcht higher into Scotland; perswaded, as indeed it happend, that they might force the King of Scotland either to an inglorious flight, or else for safety to locke him­selfe up in some strong hold. By which they might so imprison him, that his release should not bee without a full discharge for all injuries both a­gainst England and the Duke of Albany. And ac­cording to expectation it happend, the King up­on the first rumour of an enemy, inclosing him­selfe in the Castle of Edenborough. For in his go­vernement having not studyed the safety of his [Page 204] people (which is the supreame Law given to Kings) he found himselfe now forsaken by them. So farre that in opposition to the English, against whom the Scots ever shewed a faire resolution, no Army now tooke the field: the Countrey ly­ing open to the mercy of the invader.

Glocester therefore, burning many townes by the way to strike a terror, in the inhabitants; marcht directly to Edenborough: into which hee entred, receiving such presents as the Citizens offerd to him: for at the intreatie of the Duke of Albanie, he spared the towne from spoile. His entry was onely a spectacle of glory, the people applauding the mercy of an enemy, who presented them with a triumph, not a battaile: and welcom'd him as a Prince, who tooke armes not for pecy or ma­lice, but for the safetie of a neighbouring king­dome, disorderd and laid waste more by the li­cence of a tyrant in peace, then it could have beene by the hand of war. The Lords of Scotland conside­ring the danger of their state and desirous to pre­vent ruin, sent from Hadington to the Duke of Gloce­ster to intreate a suspence of armes, and to desire a firme peace in future. They there offerd, if the oc­casion of beginning this warre, were as it was pretended; to give the English full satisfaction: So that he could have no colour of continuing in hostilitie, but onely a desire to execute his in­dignation upon a Countrey, already sufficiently destroid. For concerning the marriage, they were prepared when it should please the King of Eng­land to accomplish it: And for any other injury offered to the English, they were ready to make re­stitution. The Duke of Glocester returnd in an­swer, That his comming thither was to right the [Page 205] honour of his Countrey, often violated by the Scots, and restore the Duke of Albanie unjustly com­manded to exile, to his native soile and the digni­tie of his birth. As for the marriage of the Prince of Scotland with the daughter of England, he knew not how his brothers resolution stood at the pre­sent: whereupon hee required repayment of the money lent to their King upon the first agree­ment. And withall a delivery of the Castle of Barwicke up into his hands; without which hee protested to come to no accord. But the Scottish Lords labourd by all meanes to have avoided the surrender of a place so important, by pretending how anciently it ever appertaind to their Crowne, by parting with which now they should ap­peare at too deare and base a price, to have pur­chast peace. No argument could prevaile against Glocesters resolution; whereupon they yeelded Barwicke, with covenant too by no Art hereaf­ter to labour the reduction of it. They likewise ap­pointed a day for restitution of all those monies lent by King Edward, and promise upon a full discussion, to make satisfaction for all damages done the English by any inroade of the Scottish borderers. And for the Duke of Albanies provision, whose safetie in this expedition was principally pretended; a generall pardon for him and his fol­lowers was granted together with an obolition of all discontents: Whereby he was reinvested in all his former dignities and places: and by consent of the nobilitie of Scotland proclaimd Lievetenant of the Kingdome.

With this Lord the Duke of Glocester endeavor'd a most entire friendship, and by all industrie im­ployd for his advancement in authoritie, studied [Page 206] how to make him firme to his purposes, if occa­sion should hereafter present it selfe to require his ayde: And questionlesse, howsoever the for­tunes of these two Dukes accorded not in every point, yet there was in their ambitions some kind of sympathy. Both being brothers to Kings, and both the Kings by the insolencie or licen [...]ious­nesse of their actions become obnoxious to a pub­licke scandall. But Albanie had the advantage in a more deserv'd and universall hatred to the King his brother; whereby he might not improbably expect to bee King in fact, however his brother were in title. And Glocester had the start in that the King his brothers ease apparently tended to the shortning of his life; and then he, remaining the onely Prince of the blood fit to governe, was not unlikely to governe as King both in fact and title. To the advancement of any such designe, a perfect amitie with Scotland, Glocester could not but imagine most necessary.

Haying therefore setled businesses there with all increase of glory to the English name, (and by consequence to his owne) hee return'd to Bar­wicke; which according to the former agreement had beene yeelded to the Lord Stanley. Thence in all solemnitie of greatnesse hee came toward London, to yeeld an account of his prosperous en­terprize. By the way permit the honour of this action to bee divulged to the greatest applause, whereby to insinuate his reputation into the opi­nion of the Commons: and to show how much more nobly he in this expedition against Scotland had managed the peace for honour of the English nation; then his brother had in his undertak­ing against France. Considering that in lieu of a [Page 207] little money, which King Edward got from King Lewys; he had taken the onely place of strength whereby the Scots might with safetie to themselves have endangerd us: And brought them to what conditions he appointed, forcing the King to im­mure himselfe, while the English at libertie spoild the Countrey, and possest themselves of his ca­pitall Towne of Edenborough. And farther by Glocesters flatterers it was urged, that if their Gene­rall had but had commission ample enough, hee would not have returnd without reduction of the kingdome of Scotland to the Crowne of England. Obedience to a superior command fixing so sud­daine a period to his actions. And certainly in this expedition the Duke of Glocester laid the foun­dation of all his after atchievements: for here ha­ving by a free spoile of every towne, except onely Edenborough, purchast the affection of the com­mon Souldier; whose aime in warre is gaine and licence: and by sober order and great cou­rage, together with a brave zeale ever to bring ho­nour to his side, wonne estimation from the no­bler sort: hee began to imagine himselfe reputed generally onely unhappy in wanting a good title to the kingdome. The difference betweene him and his brother, the one possest, the other de­serv'd the Crowne. And his thoughts far­ther flatterd him, that it could not prove here­after difficult, upon any hansome occasion to perswade the people, who already thought him worthy, also to thinke it fit to make him King.

But these his blacke intentions came not yet to light: and indeed they were so monstrous, that they would not onely have manifested the ugli­nesse [Page 208] of their shape had they now appear'd; but like imperfect and deformd births, beene buried, soone as produced. Cunningly therefore by si­mulation of a most serious love to his brother, and publiquely ascribing the whole glory of the action to his direction, he declin'd suspition. Being welcom'd by the King with all the demonstrati­ons of joy; who congratulated his owne felicitie in having with so little charge and no losse, tamed all the insolency of the Scots, and reduced Barwick. He therefore to show how much he approved the conditions of the peace, went solemnly in pro­cession from Saint Stephens Chappell accompani­ed with the Queene and a mightie retinue of the greatest Lords into Westminster Hall: where in pre­sence of the Earle of Angus, the Lord Grey, and Sir James Liddall Embassadors extraordinary from Scotland the peace was ratified.

During the warre with Scotland, and after the conclusion of this peace, the King discoverd to the people his naturall disposition. Which being bountifull and courteous, farre from the proud state then in practise with the Tyrants of the East; begot a generall affection: and made the subject comparing their felicity, with the misery of their fathers to blesse the present government. The ad­ministration likewise of the Lawes being order­ly, without violence or partialitie, caused all the former injustice to be cast either upon the licence of warre, or the predominancie of some faction: The King absolutely quit, in opinion. And even from lust, which was reputed his bosome sinne, toward the later end of his life, he was somewhat cleare: Either conscience reforming him, or by continuall sacietie growne to a loathing of it: for [Page 209] the abstinence could not be imputed to age, hee at his death not exceeding two and fortie. But what endeard him so much to the affection of the people, and especially to the Citizens of London, was his being rich by his tribute from France, and therefore not likely to lye heavy on them: as like­wise the so famed bountie of his hospitalitie: Two thousand persons being daily served in his Court at Eltham, where most solemnly hee celebrated the feast of the Nativitie. And to recompence the great love which in both fortunes the Londoners had showed him, to his last houre he used towards them a particular kindnesse: Even so much, that he invited the Lord Major and Aldermen, and some of the principall Citizens to the Forrest of Waltham, to give them a friendly not a pompous entertainement. Where in a pleasant Lodge they were feasted, the King himselfe seeing their din­ner served in: and by thus stooping downe to a loving familiarity, sunke deepe into their hearts: ordinary slight curtesies, ordered thus to the best advantage, taking more often even with sound judgements then churlish benefits. And that the sex he alwayes affected might not bee unremem­bred, he caused great plentie of Venison to bee sent to the Lady Majoresse and the Aldermens wives.

Thus was the outward face of the Court full of the beautie of delight and Majestie: while the in­ward was all rotten with discord and envie. For the Queene by how much shee considerd her selfe more unworthy the fortune shee enjoyed, by so much she endeavord in the exterior height of car­riage, to raise her selfe: foolishly imagining pride could set off the humilitie of her birth. Shee [Page 210] was likewise (according to the nature of women) factious: as if her greatnesse could not appeare cleare enough without opposition. And they she opposed were the chiefest both in blood and power: the weaker shee disdayning to wrastle with, and they fearefull to contest with her. But what subjected her to an universall malice, was the rapine, the necessary provision of her kindred engaged her to. For they being many and great in title could not bee supplyed according to their ambition, but by so common an injury as made her name odious through the kingdome. More­over the Lords of her blood, by reason of their nearenesse to the Kings children being insolent, and in regard of their youth, indiscreet; frequent­ly ran into those errours which betraid them to the publicke scorne or hatred. Against the Queene (for through her kindred they aym'd at her) opposed the Duke of Glocester, the Duke of Buckingham, the Lord Hastings, and others of the most ancient nobilitie. And to render odious her and hers, Glocester laid the death of the Duke of Clarence (which fratricide himselfe most barba­rously contrived) altogether upon their envie: pretending a more then ordinary causion for his owne safetie, least his person might by the same practise be brought in danger. By which calumnie he both cleared his owne reputation, and clouded the fame of a faction hee endeavord so much to ruine. But this side had much the start in opinion and pollicie, over the other who were young, and unexperienc'd: and president of whose Councell was a woman.

To compose these quarrells begot the King much trouble: neither could he without extreame [Page 211] anxietie heare the continual complaints of persons so considerable both in power in the kingdome, and kindred to his children▪ not knowing to how dangerous a height, this discord in time might grow. But to increase his discontent every­day his jealousie increast concerning King Lewys his faith who now began to unmaske his intenti­on, and show how much hee had deluded the Eng­lish. For having ever since Maximilians marriage with Mary Dutchesse of Burgundie beene upon un­kinde termes with him: sometimes at open warre, other times in an unfaithfull truce, hee was now growing to an absolute peace. And the conditions were whisper'd contrary to the treatie Piquignie: which made the King suspicious they two might enter into some league prejudicall to the honour of the English. For Maximilian having kept Lewys all the life time of his Lady, from any further in­croach upon her territory, and by his fortune won into opinion with the French, grew to bee must desired in the nearest friendship by them: And he having buried his Dutchesse (who owed her death to her modestie, in respect that having broke her Thigh by a fall from a Horse she denied to expose it to the sight of Chirurgeons) was wil­ling to stand upon good termes with France. Knowing how slender and how unfaithfull an obedience those Countries would yeeld to a Prince, who was to rule by curtesie since to their naturall Lords, they had ever shewed themselves insolent and rebellious. These considerations prepared both sides to peace, & the conclusion of it to beget a more perfect amitie was that the Lady Margaret a child of two yeares old, daughter [...]o Maximilian and the Dutchesse of Burgundie should [Page 212] be affianced to the Dolphin, then upon the age of twelve. So that King Lewys in the marriage of his sonne, was ever most disproportionable: the daughter of England as much too old, as this Lady too young: but indeed his end was the same with Charles Duke of Burgundy and ma­ny other worldly fathers, to match his sonne for the best advantage of his profit and conveni­ence.

To confirme the uncertaine rumours of this perjurie in King Lewys, the Lord Howard re­turn'd out of France, and made relation, how hee saw the Lady Margaret brought with all pompe and ceremony to Ambois and there mar­ried to Charles the Dolphin: And to heape yet more injuries, not long after the tribute hitherto so carefully payd, was denied. The French now disclosing the innated malice they bore the English, and with how little scruple they could dispence with the most solemne oath, when no apparent danger threatned the crime: For though the Dolphin when hee had attaind to the age of consent, might have broke off this marriage; and it could have beene onely term'd an act of discourtesie: yet King Lewys who had sworne to this Article with so much ceremo­ny, cannot bee excused from a most foule impie­tie.

But what reason of state prevaild with him, who heretofore awed by his feares had condescen­ded in a manner to compound for his kingdome, thus now to slight the English is not delivered in history. And it may appeare difficult, conside­ring King Edward was now, if possibly, more ab­solute in his command at home, his people bet­ter [Page 213] disciplin'd, and no apparence of an enemy from abroad. Adde to that, his Coffers full in­creast every yeare by the tribute from France, and his reputation high, by the victory lately pur­chast against the Scots. A nation though inferior to the French in the riches and extent of territo­ry, yet in martiall courage equall: and in warring with whom, we have found more sweat and dan­ger. It is therefore hard to know the cause of King Lewys his proceedings in this injurious way, if we looke on our selves onely as at home: But if wee consider the state of businesses abroad, wee may easily discerne his pollicie. For now had the French Arts or the change of time quite dissolved all our confederacies, and left us to maintaine with our owne armes our owne quarrell. Saint Paul was annihilated, in whose death expired all the discontents of the factious Nobilitie in France.

The Duke of Brittaine by an extreame melan­cholly (which scarce was reputed lesse then mad­nesse) was become unfit for government, much lesse for any great attempt: And being overchar­ged by the practises and armes of the French, in a manner made resignation of his Dutchy to the disposition of some officers easie to be corrupted. And Burgundie (which in the victories of Henry the fift, had so much advanced the English en­terprises) was by the last league with Maximilian wholly at the devotion of the French. So that all they who heretofore had brought us over, were now either reduc'd to bee unprofitable for our ayde; or else become enemies should wee re­new our ancient quarrell. Moreover the long [Page 214] ease the King of England had lived in, and the pleasures with which hee appeard altogether fascinated, render'd him to the world nothing formidable. And King Lewys having with so little difficultie hitherto deluded him, and re­tain'd him in a kinde of servile amitie, while hee threw injuries thicke upon him; was now heightend to a presumption, that the English would either connive at this affront, or that by some new cunning they might bee appeasd, were the indignitie never so much re­sented. And if the worst should happen, the French nothing feared the enmitie: Conside­ring that King Edward alone, would bee una­ble to prevaile against them seconded by the forces of Maximilian, whom his daughter now interessed in the warre.

These considerations of securitie to doe wrong according to the nature of wicked Princes, made King Lewys so boldly attempt it: And what was strange in a man so cun­ning, hee left himselfe no excuse for the fact, eyther in the way of honour or con­science: And scarce in humane pollicie. Vn­lesse his expectation reacht beyond common reason, in thought that Prince Phillip, Sonne to Maximilian, and the Dutchesse (for shee was mother onely to a sonne and a daughter) might chance to die, and thus by the Lady Margaret all those large countries devolve into the power of France. But how slight soe­ver King Lewys his opinion was of the English, this breach of faith was no sooner related to King Edward, but hee resolved severely to take revenge.

[Page 215]And calling together all the Counsell and No­bilitie, who for the suddennesse could be convo­ked, hee to this purpose made a remonstrance of his wrongs and intentions how to right himselfe.

The Lords resented the affront with an indig­nation high as the Kings, and desired that instant preparations might be made for the warre. But above all, the Duke of Glocester appeard zealous in the quarrell: expressing aloud his desire that all his estate might be spent, and all his veines emp­tied in revenge of this injury. All the Court was presently for the designe, and the whole King­dom with a fierce appetite desired to arme. So [Page 220] that no language was heard but martiall; and all the gallantry, in new armour or other convenien­ces for service. The King most passionatly pursued his determination, and that very spring resolved to begin the warre. But he was diverted on the sud­den from calling King Lewys to a reckoning for this crime; and summond by death to give a strict account of all his owne. Death arrested him, and in the respect of not many houres, instracted him in more then all the oratory from pulpits had done for fortie yeares. For soone as he found himselfe mortally sicke, he began to consider the vanitie of all his victories, which with the expence of so much blood he had purchac'd; and to the heart repented his too hard bargaine. He looked backe upon the beautie of his sensuall pleasures; and now discernd it was onely faire in the outside, inwardly rotten and deform'd. He cast up the accounts of his tribute both at home and abroad, and all those treasures gather'd either by proscription of his enemies, or exacting from his subjects, and found himselfe a banckerout. For till now, hee wanted leasure to search into that which most concernd him: and delighted too much in the pompe & plea­sure of the Inne where he was not to stay, forgot he had a journey, and unawares was overtaken by night: an endlesse night, which no day succeedes.

Perceiving his doome inevitable and no hope of the least reprive: he began to order businesse as ful­ly as the shortnesse of the time would licence. The great affaire of his soule, & indeede the onely that is necessary, he committed to the mercy of his re­deemer: and by the Sacraments then in use with the Church in England and a reall contrition hee labord, a full expiation of the crimes and errours [Page 223] of his life. And as his death is described to us by an excellent author who lived neere his time: Al­mightie God seemes to have strucke water even from the Rocke (as by Moses Wand hee did for the Israelites) in touching this Prince to the heart, and forcing a most religious penetence, from a soule obdurate in sinne, as wee may conjecture by his life.

The revenge of the injury hee receiv'd from King Lewys, he refer'd to the judgement of heaven, whose worke it is to punish perjury. And Lewys suffered for it according to his demerit: for that sonne in marrying whom hee so busied his imagi­nations, and slighted all faith and religion, lived but a short space, and died issulesse. Not one branch remaining of that great tree, whose roote was in perjurie and dissimulation.

The protection of the King and Kingdome he left to the Lords nearest in kindred to his chil­dren, advising them to amitie and concord. By which the nation would flourish in greatnesse abroad and safetie at home: The young King bee secured from flattery, and instructed in the best discipline for government: And they them­selves live is much honour and felicitie, i [...] united to advance the Commonwealth and op­pose all forraine danger. Whereas discord would beget civill warre, and that endanger ruine. So that this Christian King like Christ himselfe, when he departed bequeathd peace to the world. And had this doctrine beene as zealously followed, as it was uttered; the succeeding time had not beene guiltie of so many sad confusions. But for the present a perfect reconciliation appear'd, both sides lovingly imbracing, and protesting all [Page 222] amitie in the future. So that with comfort hee forsooke the world, and may well be said to have deserved a generall applause, in this last sceane of his life.

Among his words of farewell at his death, it is worthy observation; that he solemnly protested his repentance, for obtaining the Crowne with so much blood, as the necessitie of the quarrell spilt. Which certainly showes a most singular pie­tie, considering the indubitable justice of his title: And withall teacheth Princes a new lesson, that the power of sway, great men so superstitiously adore, is but the Idoll of folly and ambition: Whose oracles delude the living, but on our death-beds we discerne the truth, and hate the ir­religion of our former errour.

Concerning the occasion of his death there is much varietie in opinion: for by severall authors, it is severally imputed to poison, griefe, and sur­feit. They who ascribe it to poyson, are the passi­onate enemies of Richard Duke of Glocesters me­mory: Who permit not nature at that time to have beene obnoxious to decay; but make thè death of every Prince an act of violence or pra­ctise: And in regard this cruell Lord was guiltie of much blood; without any other argument, condemne him for those crimes, from which he was however actually most innocent. The French affirme it to have proceeded from griefe conceiv'd upon repudiation of his daughter, and detenti­on of the tribute. But they looking on our affaires a farre off, mistake the shadow for the substance, desirous perhaps that King Lewys should kill a King of England by a new weapon: And certain­ly Lewys did perswade himselfe that King Edward [Page 223] was slaine this way; and congratulated his wit, much in the accident. But this carries not the least apparence of probabilitie: Great sorrowes kill for the most part suddenly, else by a languishing de­cay of nature: whereas King Edward dyed not presently upon the report; nor yet drew melan­cholly from this injurie, but a brave anger fierce to seeke revenge. Moreover griefe hath the [...] bin observed most powerfull over life; when the disconsolate hath no eare to which hee may ex­presse himselfe, and no hope left for remedy: whereas King Edward breath'd forth passions to his Councell, and found in them a simpathy both in the sorrow and the rage: And as for revenge, certainly the state of England was never better pre­par'd to exact it: The King being a valiant and fortunate leader; the people inured heretofore to the exercise of Armes, and never so forward to any quarrell, as against the French, from whom they ever reaped victory and treasure: And concer­ning money the strength of an Army, the Exche­quer was full enough, without any burdensome imposition, to beginne the warre.

It was therefore questionlesse a surfet brought this great Prince so suddainly to his end. For who observes well the scope of his pleasure, findes it to have beene placed much in wantonnesse and riot, the two mightie destroyers of nature: And com­monly those excesses with which wee solace life, we ruine it. Hee dyed upon the ninth of April 1483. at his Palace of Westminster: and was in­terred at Windsor. Sixtus the fourth being Pope, Fredericke the third Emperour, Fardinand and Iso­bella King and Queene of Arragon and Castile, Iohn the second King of Portugall, Iames the third of [Page 224] Scotland, and Lewys the eleventh of France. Be­tweene whom and King Edward as there was much intercourse in businesse, so was there great concurrence in fortune. Both began and ended their raignes in the same yeares: both were held in jealousie by the precedent Kings, Edward by King Henry, Lewys by his father Charles the se­venth; both had titles disputable to the Crowne: The house of Lancaster usurpiug against Ed­ward; the house of England clayming against Lewys. Both were perplext with civill warre, and both successefull: Lewys infested by an insolent Nobilitie; Edward by a Saint-like Competitor. Lewys victorious by act, Edward by courage. Both were rebeld against by their owne brothers: Lewes by Charles Duke of Berry, Edward by George Duke of Clarence: And both tooke a severe re­venge, Lewys freeing himselfe from so bosome an enemie by poysoning Charles; Edward by drow­ning Clarence. Both ended this life with apparence of much zeale: Edward religiously, Lewys some­thing superstiously. Both left their sonnes, yet children to inherit; who dyed issulesse, and left the Crowne to their greatest enemies: Edward the fift to his Vncle Richard Duke of Glocester, Charles the eight to his kinsman Lewys Duke of Or­leans.

But who lookes upon the lives of these two Princes on the other side; may as in a table which presents severall faces, perceive as great dispari­tie. But I am onely to give you the picture of King Edward, without flattery or detraction; which is rare in history: considering authors fa­shion for the most part Idaeas in their mindes, and according to them, not to the truth of action [Page 225] forme a Pince: which though happily i [...] winne applause to the writer, is a high abuse to the reader.

BUt this King was, if we compare his with the lives of Princes in generall, worthy to be [...]berd among the best. And whom though not an extraordinary vertue, yet a singular fortune made conspicuous. He was borne at Roane in Normandy, his father at that time Regent in France. The [...]o satall division betweene the houses of Yorke and Lancaster with him in a manner having both their birth and growth: For as he, the faction of his family gatherd strength. His education was, according to to the best provision for his honour and safetie, in armes: A strict and religious discipline, in all probabilitie likely to have softned him too much to mercy, and a love of quiet.

He had a great extent of wit, which certainly bee owed to nature: That age bettering men little by learning; which howsoever he had wanted leisure to have receiv'd: The Trumpet sounding still too, loud in his eare, to have admitted the sober counsailes of Philosophy. And his wit lay not in the slights of cunning and deceit; but in a sharpe apprehensition, yet not too much whetted by su­spition.

In counsaile he was judicious, with little difficultie di­spatching much: His understanding open to cleare doubts, not darke and cloudie, and apt to create new. His wise­dome look'd still directly upon truth, which appeares by the manage of his affaires both in peace and warre: In neither of which (as farre as concernd the pollitique part) he com­mitted any maine errour. Tis true he was over-reacht in peace by King Lewys, abused concerning the marriage of his daughter▪ In warre by the Earle of Warwicke when upon confidence of a finall accord he was surpriz'd: But both these misfortunes I impute to want of faith in his enemies, not of iudgement in him. Though to speake [Page 206] impartially, his too great presumption on the oath of a dis­sembling Prince▪ and want of circumspection, a reconcili­ation being but in treatie; cannot scape without reprehen­sion.

His nature certainly was both noble and honest, which if rectified by the strait rule of vertue, had rendred him sit for example, whereas he is onely now for observation. For prosperitie raisd him but to a complacencie in his fortune; not to a disdaine of others losses, or a pride of his owne ac­quisitions. And when he had most securitie in his King­dome, and consequently most allurements to tyrannie, then showed he himselfe most familiar and indulgent. An ad­mirable temperance in a Prince, who so well knew his owne strength; and whom the love of riot necessitated to a love of treasure; which commonly is supplyed by oppression of the Subject.

The heavie fine upon S^r. Thomas Cooke and dis­placing the chiefe justice blemisheth him with violence, and a vorice. But that severitie, and the other when hee began to looke into the Poenall Lawes, were but short tempests or rather small overcastings, during the glorious calme of his government. And what soever injurie the subject endured, was not imputed to the King: But to Tip [...]oft Earle of Worcester and some under informers: Or else to the Queene and her necessitous kindred. The world either judiciously or else favourably diverting all envie from his memory.

Great judgement in leading his armies, and courage in fighting personally, speakes him both a daring Souldier, and an expert Commander. And the many battailes hee fought, in all which he triumpht, delivers him as much to be [...]mired for his militarie discipline, as his happy successe. Fortune not deserving to have all his mightie victo­ries ascribed to her gift: Valour and good conduct share at the least with her in the fate of warre. But as in [Page 227] armes he appeares most glorious to posteritie, so like­wise most unhappy: For all those bloody conquests hee obtaind, were against his owne nation; And the greatest adversaries he over came, neere in consanguinitie to him; so that he may more properly be sayd to have let himselfe blood, then his enemies; or rather for preservation of his owne body, to have cut off his principall and most necessa­ry limmes. For beside those many Princes of the house of Sommerset, Buckingham, Excester, Oxford, De­vonshire, Northumberland, Westmerland, Shrewsbury, and finally the tree it selfe, and the onely branch, Henry the sixt and his Sonne Prince Edward▪ He slew even the Earle of Warwicke and the Marquesse Mountague: Two brothers who having lost their fa­ther in his quarrell, hazarded their lives and those migh­tie possessions and honours which peaceably they might have enjoyed, onely to advance his title. But this was ra­ther his fate, then his fault▪ and into this Sea of blood hee saild not voluntarily, but violently driven by the tempests of his fortune. And for the crueltie laid to him in the death of the Duke of Clarence, he was certainly wrought to it by practise and the mis-information of an envious fa­ction in Court: The horrour of which fratricide possest him to the last houre of his life, frequently complaining against the unhappy severitie of his justice, and against the hard nature of his Councellors, who would not interpose one word to him for mercy, whereby so blacke a deede might have beene prevented. But howsoever wee may wash away much of this blood from his memory▪ yet there continue many foule staines upon it: since publique mis­chiefes seldome happen, but that the Prince, though not actually nocent, as in some degree guiltie.

As these so many confusions at home were the misfortune of his time, so was abroad, that so scandalous losse of the Easterne Empire to the Turke. For though King Ed­ward [Page 228] were not the occasion of so great ruine to the Chri­stian Commonwealth, and that this happened before hee attained the soveraigntie, his father being head of the faction; yet the civill warres of England raisd upon the quarrell which he was soone after to maintaine, and the universall division among Princes of the West gave cou­rage to the Infidells; and denyed succours to the misera­ble Emperour opprest by an over potent enemy. Whereby a Citie was prophaned, in which the Christian faith had flourisht without interruption for a thousand yeares. But as the Sea is sayd to gaine in another, if it looseth in this place: So about this time religion, by the singular pietie and valour of Ferdinand and Isabella, wonne ground upon the Moores in Spaine, whence not long after they were totally and (I hope) for ever expeld.

But when the Warre licenc'd the King to attend his government, we finde the administration of Lawes just and equall: and many new statutes enacted, wholesome against diseases crept into the State: So that he appeard dilligent both to heale up any wound, the tumults of his raigne had given the commonwealth, and provident for the health of future ages. And certainly no Prince could husband the benefits of peace better for the outward magnificence; For his glory was much in hospitalitie, and a pompous celebra­tion of the principall feasts of our redemption. In which way of bravery setling much of his happinesse; hee had beene doubtlesse the most fortunate of any King of the Norman line, had hee not faild in expectation of his daughters marriage.

His buildings were few, but sumptuous for that time, or more properly but reparations: Which are yet to bee seene at the Tower of London, his house of Eltham, the Ca­stles of Nottingham and Dover: But above all at Windsor, where he built the new Chappell (finisht after by S^r. Riginald Bray Knight of the Order) and indow­ed [Page 229] the Colledge with mightie revenues: which hee gave not, but transferd thither: taking from Kings Colledge in Cambridge; and Eaton Colledge a thousand pound by the yeare to inrich this at Windsor.

But our buildings like our children are obnoxious to death; and time scornes their folly, who place a perpetui­tie in either. And indeed the safer kinde of fate happened to King Edward in both these felicities: His posteritie, like his edifices, lost in other names. For his two sonnes, before they had survived their father, the ceremonious time of mourning, were themselves inhumanly murderd, and as obscurely buried. His eldest daughter the Lady Eliza­beth was married to the Earle of Richmond, knowne by the name of Henry the seventh: Whose heire in a strait line not liable to any doubt or question, is his most sa­cred Majestie, now glorious in government of this Realme. The younger daughters were bestowed, one in a monasterie, others upon inferiour Lords. Cicily married John Vi­count Wells: Anne, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolke: Briget was profest Nunne at Dartford: Mary was contracted to the King of Denmarke, but died before consummation: Margaret died an Infant: Katherine married William Courtney Earle of De­vonshire. But of none of these younger Princesses at this day remaines any thing but their memory: All dying issu­lesse but the Lady Katherine, whose posteritie faild like­wise in the third descent. Henry her sonne Marquesse of Exceter suffered by attainder in the raigne of his Cosen German Henry the Eight, being not long before designd heire apparent (an honour fatall in England:) and his sonne Edward untimely came to his death at Padua in Italy, in the raigne of Queene Mary, by whose favour hee had regaind his fathers honours and possessions. So that all the cleare streame from the spring of Yorke flowes in the house of Scotland: The troubled and impure runnes [Page 230] in many veines of the English Gentry. For by the Lady Elizabeth Lucy, he had an illigitimate Sonne named Arthur, who by his wives right was Vicount Lile, and dying without issue Male, left to his three daugh­ters and their posteritie some tincture of the blood royall.

This disease of his blood was the crime which procured both to his government and memory many hard censures. For though some excuse his lust, as a sinne though blacke to the eye of heaven, yet no way generally injurious: In regard the incontinency of one man could not be so diffu­sive as to wrong a multitude: Neverthelesse who observes the revolutions of Kingdomes, shall finde no one iniquitie in Princes so punisht. The dishonour of one Lady abu­sed extending the disgrace of severall families, and mightie factions knitting together for revenge: In the whole stocke of injuries none being so cruell to humane na­ture, and which with lesse patience can bee dissem­bled.

His frequent perjurie (a sinne which strikes like a Sword with two edges, both against divine and humane faith) was the crime which renderd him most odious to the societie of man. For impiously hee appeard in this to brave heaven, slighting all solemne covenants made with God: and foolishly preferring before a holy promise; a lit­tle profit, or the satisfaction of his revenge. Which crime, however for the present it might stand him in some benefit; yet certainly it might have indangerd him to much losse in all after enterprises, which depended upon faith. The deaths of Wells and Dimock, of Fauconbridge, of Sommerset, Lord Prior of S^t. Iohns and others, were the wounds perjury gave his soule, the scarres of which remaine yet foule upon his fame. But perhaps hee thought no faith was to be held with an enemy▪ Or promist, not with intention of performance: An impious equivoca­tion: [Page 231] but then in practise with his neighbour Princes both of France and Burgundy: So that the custome may in some sort seeme to priviledge the fault.

In his youth he was so uncircumspect, and even when he had the strongest arguments for jealousie, so overcon­fident: that it engaged him to extreame difficulties, and endangerd absolute ruine. But his fortune, almost mira­culously, made up all those breaches, which had beene by his carelesnesse and presumption laid open: and delighting something wantonly to boast her power and favour to him, raisd him then highest, when all the world, and almost his owne hopes forsooke him. For presently upon the slaugh­ter of his father at the battell of Wakefield, and the overthrow of his great supporter the Earle of Warwick at that of Saint Alban: Shee inthrond him in the King­dome: Making the Queene and all the favourers of Lanca­ster when doubly victorious, retire as overcome; and the universall acclamations of the people set the regall Diadem upon his head; whose fathers head at that time, like a Traytors was fixt upon the Walls of Yorke, scornd with a paper Crowne. And afterward when from a migh­tie Prince hee was become a miserable Exile, forc'd by the treason of his chiefest Councellors and powers of his greatest enemie to flie into Burgundy, where hee likewise met with but a dissembled amitie: Shee restored him to what at first shee gave: And whereas his Forces were so weake upon his returne into England; that de­spayring more, hee humbly onely desired to be invested in his fathers Dutchy, and vowed never to attempt the Crowne: Shee violently forc'd it on him: protesting (by the mouthes of the Nobilitie who resorted to him at Nottingham) not to afford him safetie if hee re­fused the soveraingtie: By which amorous way of threat­ning shee in a manner wooed him to accept, what hee durst not then hope to recover. And had the appe­tite [Page 232] of glory more prevail'd with him, then the sence of pleasure, as farre as we may conjecture of his for­tune; hee might have extended his victories over the world, which are now straitned with the narrow limits of our Island.