Chapter II: Part 2

And therefore, I insure you faithfullie for my mind, I will rather (mauger hir mind) fetch him awaie, than leaue him there, till hir frowardnesse and fond feare conueie him awaie. And yet will I breake no sanctuarie therefore. For verelie, sith the priuileges of that place, and other like, haue béene of long continued, I am not he that would be about to breake them. And in good faith, if they were now to begin, I would not be he that should be about to make them. Yet will I not say naie, but that it is a déed of pitie, that such men as the sea, or their euill debtors haue brought in pouertie, should haue some place of libertie, to kéepe their bodies out of danger of their cruell creditors.

And also, if the crowne happen (as it hath doone) to come in question, while either part taketh other as traitors, I will well there be some places of refuge for both. But as for théeues, of which these places be full, and which neuer fall from the craft, after they once fall thereto, it is pitie the sanctuarie should serue them. And much more, mankillers, whome God bad to take them from the altar and kill them, if their mother were wilfull. And where it is otherwise, there néed we not the sanctuaries that God appointed in the old law. For if either necessitie, his owne defense, or misfortune draweth him to that déed, a pardon serueth, which either the law granteth of course, or the king of pitie maie. Then looke me now how few sanctuarie men there be, whome anie fauourable necessitie compelled to go thither. And then sée on the other side, what a sort there be commonlie therin of them, whom wilfull vnthriftinesse hath brought to naught.

[Sidenote: Westminster and saint Martins.]

[Sidenote: The abuse of sanctuaries.]

What a rabble of théeues, murtherers, and malicious heinous traitors, and that in two places speciallie; the one at the elbow of the citie, the other in the verie bowels. I dare well auow it, weie the good that they doo, with the hurt that commeth of them, and ye shall find it much better to lacke both, than haue both. And this I saie, although they were not abused as they now be, & so long haue be, that I feare me euer they will be, while men be afraid to set their hands to the mendment, as though God & S. Peter were the patrones of vngratious liuing. Now vnthrifts riot & run in debt, vpon boldnesse of these places, yea, and rich men run thither with poore mens goods, there they build, there they spend, & bid there creditors go whistle them. Mens wiues run thither with their husbands plate, & saie they dare not abide with their husbands for beating. Théeues bring thither their stollen goods, and there liue thereon.

There deuise they new robberies, nightlie they steale out, they rob, and reaue, and kill, and come in againe, as though those places gaue them not onelie a safegard for the harme they haue doone, but a licence also to doo more. Howbeit, much of this mischiefe (if wise men would set their hands to it) might be amended, with great thanks to God, and no breach of the priuilege. The residue, sith so long ago, I wote néere what pope, and what prince more pitious than politike, hath granted it, & other men since, of a certeine religious feare, haue not broken it, let vs take a paine therewith, and let it a Gods name stand in force, as farre foorth as reason will, which is not fullie so farre foorth, as may serue to let vs of the fetching foorth of this noble man to his honor and wealth, out of that place, in which he neither is, nor can be a sanctuarie man.

[Sidenote: The vse of sanctuaries.]

A sanctuarie serueth alwaie to defend the bodie of that man that standeth in danger abroad, not of great hurt onlie, but also of lawfull hurt: for against vnlawfull harmes, neuer pope nor king intended to priuilege anie one place, for that priuilege hath euerie place. Knoweth anie man, anie place wherein it is lawfull one man to doo another wrong? That no man vnlawfullie take hurt, that libertie, the king, the law, and verie nature forbiddeth in euerie place, and maketh (to that regard) for euerie man euerie place a sanctuarie. But where a man is by lawfull means in perill, there néedeth he the tuition of some speciall priuilege, which is the onelie ground and cause of all sanctuaries.

From which necessitie, this noble prince is farre, whose loue to his king, nature and kinred prooueth; whose innocencie to all the world, his tender youth prooueth; and so sanctuarie, as for him, neither none he néedeth, nor also none can haue. Men come not to sanctuarie, as they come to baptisme, to require it by their godfathes, he must aske it himselfe that must haue it, and reason; sith no man hath cause to haue it, but whose conscience of his owne fault maketh him fane, néed to require it. What will then hath yonder babe, which and if he had discretion to require it, if néed were, I dare say would now be right angrie with them that kéepe him there? And I would thinke without anie scruple of conscience, without anie breach of priuilege, to be somewhat more homelie with them that be there sanctuarie men in déed.

For if one go to sanctuarie with another mans goods, whie should not the king, leauing his bodie at libertie, satisfie the partie of his goods, euen within the sanctuarie? For neither king nor pope can giue anie place such a priuilege, that it shall discharge a man of his debts, being able to paie. [And with that, diuerse of the clergie that were present (whether they said it for his pleasure, or as they thought) agréed plainlie, that by the law of God, and of the church, the goods of a sanctuarie man should be deliuered in paiment of his debts, and stollen goods to the owner, and onlie libertie reserued him to get his liuing with the labor of his hands.]

Verelie (quoth the duke) I thinke you say verie truth. And what if a mans wife will take sanctuarie, bicause she lust to run fr[=o] hir husband, I would wéene if she could alledge none other cause, he maie lawfullie without anie displeasure to saint Peter, take hir out of saint Peters church by the arme. And if no bodie maie be taken out of sanctuarie, that saith hée will bide there: then if a child will take sanctuarie, bicause he feareth to go to schoole, his maister must let him alone. And as simple as that sample is, yet is there lesse reason in our case than in that; for therein, though it be a childish feare, yet is there at the leastwise some feare, and herein is there none at all. And verelie, I haue often heard of sanctuarie men, but I neuer heard earst of sanctuarie children.

And therefore, as for the conclusion of my mind, who so maie haue deserued to néed it, if they thinke it for their suertie, let them kéepe it. But he can be no sanctuarie man, that neither hath wisdome to desire it, nor malice to deserue it; whose life or libertie can by no lawfull processe stand in ieopardie. And he that taketh one out of sanctuarie to doo him good, I saie plainlie, that he breaketh no sanctuarie. When the duke had doone, the temporall men whole, and a good part of the spirituall also, thinking no hurt earthlie meant toward the yoong babe, condescended in effect, that if he were not deliuered, he should be fetched. Howbeit they thought it all best in the auoiding of all maner of rumor, that the lord cardinall should first assaie to get him with hir good will.

Wherevpon all the councell came vnto the Star-chamber at Westminster; and the lord cardinall, leauing the protector with the councell in the Star-chamber, departed into the sanctuarie to the quéene, with diuers other lords with him: were it for the respect of his honor, or that she should by presence of so manie perceiue, that this errand was not one mans mind: or were it, for that the protector intended not in this matter to trust anie one man alone; or else, that if she finallie were determined to kéepe him, some of that companie had happilie secret instruction, incontinent (mauger hir mind) to take him, and to leaue hir no respit to conueie him, which she was likelie to mind after this matter broken to hir, if hir time would in anie wise serue hir.

When the quéene and these lords were come togither in presence, the lord cardinall shewed vnto hir, that it was thought vnto the protector, and vnto the whole councell that hir kéeping of the kings brother in that place, was the thing which highlie sounded, hot onelie to the great rumor of the people and their obloquie; but also to the importable gréefe and displeasure of the kings roiall maiestie, to whose grace it were as singular a comfort, to haue his naturall brother in companie, as it was their both dishonour, and all theirs and hirs also, to suffer him in sanctuarie, as though the one brother stood in danger and perill of the other [and therefore more conuenient it were they should be togither, than parted asunder; that the world may well thinke and saie both of their kinred and also of them, when they shall sée and heare how they kéepe continual companie, and liue in mutuall amitie (as becometh brethren) which bringeth commodities with it, for number, infinite; and for vse, comfortable and necessarie; as it is truelie said:

Quæ ligat vnanimes foelix concordia fratres,
O quales fructus vtilitatis habet!]

[Sidenote: Protector.]

The cardinall shewed hir likewise, that the councell therefore had sent him vnto hir to require hir the deliuerie of him, that he might be brought vnto the kings presence at his libertie, out of that place, which they reckoned as a prison; and there should he be demeaned according to his estate: and she in this dooing, should both doo great good to the realme, pleasure to the councell, and profit to hir selfe, succour to hir fréends that were in distresse, and ouer that (which he wist well she speciallie tendered) not onelie great comfort and honor to the king, but also to the yoong duke himselfe, whose both great wealth it were to be togither, as well for manie greater causes, as also for their both disport & recreation. Which thing the lord estéemed no slight, though it séeme light, well pondering that their youth without recreation and plaie cannot indure; nor anie stranger, for the conuenience of both their ages and estates, so méetlie in that point for anie of them, as either of them for other.

[Sidenote: The quéenes answer.]

[Sidenote: The quéene is loth to part with her son.]

My lord (quoth the quéene) I saie not naie, but that it were verie conuenient, that this gentleman, whome yée require, were in companie of the king his brother: and in good faith, me thinketh it were as great commoditie to them both, as for yet a while to béene in the custodie of their mother, the tender age considered of the elder of them both, but speciallie the yoonger, which (besides his infancie, that also néedeth good looking to) hath a while béene so sore diseased, vexed with sicknesse, and is so newlie rather a little amended, than well recouered, that I dare put no person earthlie in trust with his kéeping, but my selfe onelie, considering that there is (as physicians saie) and as we also find, double the perill in the recidiuation, than was in the first sicknesse, with which disease nature being sore laboured, forewearied and weakened waxeth the lesse able to beare out and susteine a new surfet. And albeit there might be founden other that would happilie doo their best vnto him, yet is there none that either knoweth better how to order him, than I that so long haue kept him: or is more tenderlie like to cherish him, than his owne mother that bare him.

No man denieth, good madame (quoth the cardinall) but that your grace were of all folke most necessarie about your children: and so would all the councell not onelie be content, but glad that ye were (if it might stand with your pleasure) to be in such place as might stand with their honour. But if you doo appoint your selfe to tarrie héere, then thinke they it more conuenient that the duke of Yorke were with the king honourablie at his libertie, to the comfort of them both: than héere as a sanctuarie man, to their both dishonour and obloquie, sith there is not alwaie so great necessitie to haue the child to be with the mother: but that occasion may sometime be such, that it should be more expedient to kéepe him elsewhere. Which in this well appeareth, that at such time as your déerest sonne then prince, and now king, should for his honor, and good order of the countrie, kéepe houshold in Wales, farre out of your companie: your grace was well content therewith your selfe.

[Sidenote: The quéenes mistrust of the lord protector.]

Not verie well content (quoth the quéene) and yet the case is not like, for the tone was then in health, and the tother is now sicke. In which case, I maruell greatlie, that my lord protector is so desirous to haue him in his kéeping, where if the child in his sicknesse miscarried by nature, yet might he run into slander and suspicion of fraud. And where they call it a thing so sore against my childes honor, and theirs also, that he bideth in this place: it is all their honours there to suffer him bide, where no man doubteth he shall be best kept; and that is héere, while I am héere, which as yet intend not to come foorth and ieopard my selfe after other of my fréends, which would God were rather héere in suertie with me, than I were there in ieopardie with them.

[Sidenote: The lord Howard, saith _Edw. Hall_.]

Whie madame (quoth another lord) know you anie thing whie they should be in ieopardie? Naie verelie sir (quoth shée) nor whie they should be in prison neither, as they now be. But it is (I trow) no great maruell though I feare, least those that haue not letted to put them in duresse without colour, will let as little to procure their destruction without cause. The cardinall made a countenance to the other lord, that he should harpe no more vpon that string; and then said he to the quéene, that he nothing doubted, but that those lords of hir honorable kin, which as yet remained vnder arrest, should vpon the matter examined, doo well inough: and as toward hir noble person, neither was nor could be anie maner ieopardie.

Whereby should I trust that (quoth the quéene) in that I am giltlesse? As though they were giltie, in that I am with their enimies better loued than they? When they hate them for my sake, in that I am so néere of kin to the king? And how far they be off, if that would helpe, as God send grace it hurt not, and therefore as for me, I purpose not as yet to depart hence. And as for this gentleman my sonne, I mind that he shall be where I am, till I sée further: for I assure you, for that I sée some men so greedie, without anie substantiall cause to haue him, this maketh me much the more fearder to deliuer him.

Truelie madame, quoth he, and the fearder that you be to deliuer him, the fearder bin other men to suffer you to kéepe him, least your causelesse feare might cause you further to conueie him; and manie be there that thinke he can haue no priuilege in this place, which neither can haue will to aske it, nor malice to deserue it. And therefore, they reckon no priuilege broken, though they fetch him out; which if yée finallie refuse to deliuer him, I verelie thinke they will. So much dread hath my lord his vncle, for the tender loue he beareth him, least your grace should hap to send him awaie.

[Sidenote: The quéenes replie vpon the lord cardinall.]

A sir (quoth the quéene) hath the protector so tender zeale, that he feareth nothing but least he should escape him? Thinketh he that I would send him hence, which neither is in the plight to send out. And in what place could I reckon him sure, if he be not sure in this sanctuarie, whereof was there neuer tyrant yet so diuelish that durst presume to breake? And I trust God is as strong now to withstand his aduersaries as euer he was. But my sonne can deserue no sanctuarie, and therefore he can not haue it. Forsooth he hath found a goodlie glose, by which that place that may defend a théefe, may not saue an innocent. But he is in no ieopardie, nor hath no néed thereof, would God he had not.

Troweth the protector (I praie God he may prooue a protector) troweth he that I perceiue not wherevnto his painted processe draweth? It is not honourable that the duke bide héere: it were comfortable for them both, that he were with his brother, bicause the king lacketh a plaifellow. Be you sure? I praie God send them both better plaifellowes than him, that maketh so high a matter vpon such a trifling pretext: as though there could none be founden to plaie with the king, but if his brother that hath no lust to plaie for sicknesse, come out of sanctuarie out of his safegard to plaie with him. As though princes (as yoong as they be) could not plaie but with their péeres, or children could not plaie but with their kinred, with whome for the more part they agrée much woorse than with strangers.

But the child cannot require the priuilege. Who told him so? He shall heare him aske it, and he will. Howbeit, this is a gaie matter. Suppose he could not aske it, suppose he would not aske it, suppose he would aske to go out. If I saie he shall not; if I aske the priuilege but for my selfe, I say he that against my will taketh him out, breaketh the sanctuarie. Serueth this libertie for my person onelie, or for my goods too? Yée may not hence take my horsse fro me: and may you take my child fro me? He is also my ward: for as my learned councell sheweth me, sith he hath nothing by descent holden by knights seruice, the law maketh his mother his gardian. Then may no man I suppose take my ward fro me out of sanctuarie, without the breach of the sanctuarie.

[Sidenote: This that is héere betwéene this marke (*) & this marke (*) was not writt[=e] by him in English but is translated out of this historie which he wrote in Latine.]

And if my priuilege could not serue him, nor he aske it for himselfe, yet sith the law committeth to me the custodie of him, I may require it for him, except the law giue a child a gardian onelie for his goods and lands, discharging him of the cure and safe kéeping of his bodie, for which onelie both lands and goods serue. (*) And if examples be sufficient to obteine priuilege for my child, I néed not farre to séeke. For in this place in which we now be (and which is now in question whether my child may take benefit of it) mine other sonne now king was borne, and kept in his cradle and preserued to a more prosperous fortune, which I praie God long to continue. And as all you know, this is not the first time that I haue taken sanctuarie.

For when my lord my husband was banished, and thrust out of his kingdome, I fled hither, being great with child, and héere I bare the prince. And when my lord my husband returned safe againe, and had the victorie, then went I hence to welcome him home, and from hence I brought my babe the prince vnto his father, when he first tooke him in his armes. And I praie God that my sonnes palace may be as great safegard vnto him now reigning, as this place was sometime to the kings enimie. In which place I intend to kéepe his brother, sith, &c. (*) Wherefore héere intend I to kéepe him, sith mans law serueth the gardian to kéepe the infant.

The law of nature will the mother to kéepe hir child, God's law priuilegeth the sanctuarie, and the sanctuarie my sonne, sith I feare to put him in the protectors hands that hath his brother alreadie, and were (if both failed) inheritor to the crowne. The cause of my feare hath no man to doo to examine. And yet feare I no further than the law feareth, which (as learned men tell me) forbiddeth euerie man the custodie of them, by whose death he maie inherit lesse land than a kingdome. I can no more but whosoeuer he be that breaketh this holie sanctuarie, I praie God shortlie send him néed of sanctuarie, when he maie not come to it. For taken out of sanctuarie would I not my mortall enimie were.

[Sidenote: The lord cardinall vseth an other waie to persuade the quéene.]

The lord cardinall, perceiuing that the quéene waxed euer the longer the farther off, and also that she began to kindle and chafe, and spake more biting words against the protector, and such as he neither beléeued, and was also loth to heare, he said to hir for a finall conclusion, that he would no longer dispute the matter: but if she were content to deliuer the duke to him, and to the other lords present, he durst laie his owne bodie & soule both in pledge, not onelie for his suertie, but also for his estate. And if she would giue them a resolute answer to the contrarie, he would foorthwith depart therewithall, and shift who so would with this businesse afterwards: for he neuer intended more to mooue hir in that matter, in which she thought that he & all other also (saue hir selfe) lacked either wit or truth: wit, if they were so dull that they could nothing perceiue what the protector intended: truth, if they should procure hir sonne to be deliuered into his hands, in whom they should perceiue toward the child anie euill intended.

The quéene with these words stood a good while in a great studie. And forsomuch as hir séemed the cardinall more readie to depart than some of the remnant, and the protector himselfe readie at hand; so that she verelie thought she could not kéepe him, but that he should incontinentlie be taken thense: and so conueie him elsewhere, neither had she time to serue hir, nor place determined, nor persons appointed, all things vnreadie, this message came on hir so suddenlie, nothing lesse looking for than to haue him fet out of sanctuarie, which she thought to be now beset in such places about, that he could not be conueied out vntaken, and partlie as she thought it might fortune hir feare to be false, so well she wist it was either néedlesse or bootlesse: wherefore if she should néeds go from him, she déemed it best to deliuer him.

[Sidenote: She falleth to a resolution touching hir sonnes deliuerie.]

And ouer that, of the cardinals faith she nothing doubted, nor of some other lords neither, whome she there saw. Which as she feared least they might be deceiued: so was she well assured they would not be corrupted. Then thought she it should yet make them the more warilie to looke to him, and the more circumspectlie to sée to his suertie, if she with hir owne hands betooke him to them of trust. And at the last she tooke the yoong duke by the hand, and said vnto the lords: My lords (quoth she) and all my lords, I neither am so vnwise to mistrust your wits, nor so suspicious to mistrust your truths: of which thing I purpose to make you such a proofe, as if either of both in you, might turne both you and me to great sorow, the realme to much harme, and you to great reproch.

For lo, here is (quoth she) this gentleman, whom I doubt not but I could here kéepe safe, if I would, what euer anie man say: & I doubt not also, but there be some abroad so deadlie enimies vnto my bloud, that if they wist where anie of it laie in their owne bodie, they would let it out. We haue also experience that desire of a kingdome knoweth no kinred. The brother hath béene the brothers bane: and maie the nephues be sure of their vncle? Ech of these children is the others defense while they be asunder, and ech of their liues lieth in the others bodie. Kéepe one safe and both be sure, and nothing for them both more perillous, than to be both in one place. For what wise merchant aduentureth all his goods in one ship?

All this notwithstanding, here I deliuer him and his brother in him, to kéepe, into your hands, of whom I shall aske them both afore God & the world. Faithfull ye be that wot I well, & I know well you be wise. Power and strength to kéepe him (if you list) lacke ye not of your selfe, nor can lacke helpe in this cause. And if ye can not elsewhere, then maie you leaue him here. But onelie one thing I beséech you, for the trust which his father put in you euer, & for the trust that I put in you now, that as farre as ye thinke that I feare too much, be you well ware that you feare not as farre too little. And therewithall she said vnto the child: Fare well mine owne sweete sonne, God send you good kéeping: let me kisse you yet once yer you go, for God knoweth when we shall kisse togither againe. And therewith she kissed him and blessed him, turned hir backe and wept and went hir waie, leauing the child wéeping as fast. [Howbeit she was sorie afterwards that she had so parted from hir son (when it was past hir power to procure remedie, & no hope of helpe left against afterclaps) which is the common case of all that kind, as the prouerbe saith:

Femineus verè dolor est post facta dolere.]

[Sidenote: O dissimulation.]

[Sidenote: This that is here betwéene this marke (*) & this marke (*) was not written by him in English but is translated out of his historie which he wrote in Latine.]

When the lord cardinall, and these other lords with him, had receiued this yoong duke, they brought him into the Star-chamber, where the protector tooke him in his armes and kissed him with these words: Now welcome my lord euen with all my verie heart. And he said in that of likelihood as he thought. Therevpon foorthwith they brought him vnto the king his brother into the bishops palace at Paules, and from thense thorough the citie honourablie into the Tower, out of the which after that daie they neuer came abroad. (*) When the protector had both the children in his hands, he opened himselfe more boldlie, both to certeine other men, and also cheeflie to the duke of Buckingham. Although I know that manie thought that this duke was priuie to all the protectors counsell, euen from the beginning; and some of the protectors fréends said, that the duke was the first moouer of the protector to this matter, sending a priuie messenger vnto him, streict after king Edwards death.

But others againe, which knew better the subtill wit of the protector, denie that he euer opened his enterprise to the duke, vntill he had brought to passe the things before rehearsed. But when he had imprisoned the quéenes kinsfolks, & gotten both his sonnes into his owne hands, then he opened the rest of his purpose with lesse feare to them whome he thought méet for the matter, and speciallie to the duke, who being woone to his purpose, he thought his strength more than halfe increased. The matter was broken vnto the duke by subtill folks, and such as were their craftes-masters in the handling of such wicked deuises: who declared vnto him that the yoong king was offended with him for his kinsfolks sake, and if he were euer able he would reuenge them, who would pricke him forward therevnto if they escaped (for they would remember their imprisonment) or else it they were put to death, without doubt the yoong K. would be carefull for their deaths, whose imprisonment was gréeuous vnto him.

Also that with repenting the duke should nothing auaile, for there was no waie left to redéeme his offense by benefits, but he should sooner destroie himselfe than saue the king, who with his brother and his kinsfolks he saw in such places imprisoned, as the protector might with a becke destroie them all: and that it were no doubt but he would doo it in déed, if there were anie new enterprise attempted. And that it was likelie, that as the protector had prouided priuie gard for himselfe, so had he spials for the duke, and traines to catch him, if he should be against him; and that peraduenture from them, whome he lest suspected. For the state of things and the dispositions of men were then such, that a man could not well tell whome he might trust, or whom he might feare.

[Sidenote: The dukes full resolution, to go thorough with his enterprise.]

These things and such like, being beaten into the dukes mind, brought him to that point, that where he had repented the way that he had entered; yet would he go foorth in the same; and sith he had once begun, he would stoutlie go thorough. And therefore to this wicked enterprise, which he beléeued could not be voided, he bent himselfe, and went through; and determined, that sith the common mischéefe could not be amended, he would turne it as much as he might to his owne commoditie. Then it was agréed, that the protector shuld haue the dukes aid to make him king, and that the protectors onelie lawfull sonne should marrie the dukes daughter, and that the protector should grant him the quiet possession of the earldome of Hereford, which he claimed as his inheritance, and could neuer obteine it in king Edwards time.

Besides these requests of the duke, the protector of his owne mind promised him a great quantitie of the kings treasure, and of his houshold stuffe. And when they were thus at a point betwéene themselues, they went about to prepare for the coronation of the yoong king, as they would haue it séeme. And that they might turne both the eies and minds of men from perceiuing of their drifts other-where, the lords being sent for from all parts of the realme, came thicke to that solemnitie. But the protector and the duke, after that they had sent the lord cardinall, the archbishop of Yorke then lord chancellor, the bishop of Elie, the lord Stanleie, and the lord Hastings then lord chamberlaine, with manie other noble men (*) to common & deuise about the coronation in one place, as fast were they in an other place, contriuing the contrarie, and to make the protector king.

To which councell albeit there were adhibited verie few, and they were secret: yet began there here and there abouts, some maner of muttering among the people, as though all should not long be well, though they neither wist what they feared, nor wherefore: were it, that before such great things, mens hearts of a secret instinct of nature misgiue them; as the sea without wind swelleth of himselfe sometime before a tempest: or were it that some one man, happilie somewhat perceiuing, filled manie men with suspicion, though he shewed few men what he knew. Howbeit somewhat the dealing it selfe made men to muse on the matter, though the councell were close. For by little and little all folke withdrew from the Tower, and drew vnto Crosbies in Bishops gates stréet, where the protector kept his houshold. The protector had the resort, the king in maner desolate.

While some for their businesse made sute to them that had the dooing, some were by their fréends secretlie warned, that it might happilie turne them to no good, to be too much attendant about the king without the protectors appointment, which remooued also diuerse of the princes old seruants from him, and set new about him. Thus manie things comming togither, partlie by chance, partlie of purpose, caused at length not common people onelie, that woond with the wind, but wise men also, and some lords eke to marke the matter and muse thereon; so farre foorth that the lord Stanleie that was after earle of Derbie, wiselie mistrusted it, and said vnto the lord Hastings, that he much misliked these two seuerall counccels. For while we (quoth he) talke of one matter in the tone place, little wot we wherof they talke in the tother place.

[Sidenote: Catesbie and his conditions described.]

My lord (quoth the lord Hastings) on my life neuer doubt you: for while one man is there, which is neuer thense, neuer can there be thing once mooued, that should sound amisse toward me, but it should be in mine eares yer it were well out of their mouths. This ment he by Catesbie, which was of his néere secret councell, and whome he verie familiarlie vsed, and in his most weightie matters put no man in so speciall trust, reckoning himselfe to no man so liefe, sith he well wist there was no man so much to him beholden as was this Catesbie, which was a man well learned in the lawes of this land, and by the speciall fauour of the lord chamberlaine, in good authoritie, and much rule bare in all the countie of Leicester, where the lord chamberlains power cheeflie laie.

But suerlie great pitie was it, that he had not had either more truth, or lesse wit. For his dissimulation onelie kept all that mischéefe vp. In whome if the lord Hastings had not put so speciall trust, the lord Stanleie & he had departed with diuerse other lords, and broken all the danse, for manie ill signs that he saw, which he now construes all to the best. So suerlie thought he, that there could be none harme toward him in that councell intended, where Catesbie was. And of truth the protector and the duke of Buckingham made verie good semblance vnto the lord Hastings, and kept him much in companie. And vndoubtedlie the protector loued him well, and loth was to haue lost him, sauing for feare least his life should haue quailed their purpose.

For which cause he mooued Catesbie to prooue with some words cast out a farre off, whether he could thinke it possible to win the lord Hastings vnto their part. But Catesbie, whether he assaied him, or assaied him not, reported vnto them, that he found him so fast, and heard him speake so terrible words, that he durst no further breake. And of truth, the lord chamberlaine of verie trust shewed vnto Catesbie the distrust that others began to haue in the matter. And therefore he, fearing least their motion might with the lord Hastings minish his credence, wherevnto onelie all the matter leaned, procured the protector hastilie to rid him. And much the rather, for that he trusted by his death to obteine much of the rule that the lord Hastings bare in his countrie: the onelie desire whereof was the allectiue that induced him to be partner, and one speciall contriuer of all this horrible treason.

[Sidenote: An assemblie of lords in the Tower.]

Wherevpon soone after, that is to wit, on the fridaie [being the thirtéenth of Iune] manie lords assembled in the Tower, and there sat in councell, deuising the honourable solemnitie of the kings coronation, of which the time appointed then so néere approched, that the pageants and subtilties were in making daie & night at Westminster, and much vittels killed therfore, that afterward was cast awaie. These lords so sitting togither communing of this matter, the protector came in amongst them, first about nine of the clocke, saluting them courteouslie, and excusing himselfe that he had béene from them so long, saieng merilie that he had béene a sléeper that daie.

[Sidenote: The behauior of the lord protector in the assemblie of the lords.]

After a little talking with them, he said vnto the bishop of Elie; My lord you haue verie good strawberies at your garden in Holborne, I require you let vs haue a messe of them. Gladlie my lord (quoth he) would God I had some better thing as readie to your pleasure as that! And therewithall in all the hast he sent his seruant for a messe of strawberies. The protector set the lords fast in communing, and therevpon praieng them to spare him for a little while, departed thense. And soone after one houre, betwéene ten & eleuen he returned into the chamber amongst them all, changed with a woonderfull soure angrie countenance, knitting the browes, frowning and fretting, and gnawing on his lips: and so sat him downe in his place.

All the lords were much dismaid and sore maruelled at this maner of sudden change, and what thing should him aile. Then, when he had sitten still a while, thus he began: What were they worthie to haue that compasse and imagine the destruction of me, being so néere of bloud vnto the king, and protector of his roiall person and his realme? At this question, all the lords sat sore astonied, musing much by whome this question should be meant, of which euerie man wist himselfe cléere. Then the lord chamberlaine (as he that for the loue betwéene them thought he might be boldest with him) answered and said, that they were worthie to be punished as heinous traitors, whatsoeuer they were. And all the other affirmed the same. That is (quoth he) yonder sorceresse my brothers wife, and other with hir (meaning the quéene.)

At these words manie of the other lords were greatlie abashed, that fauoured hir. But the lord Hastings was in his mind better content, that it was mooued by hir, than by anie other whome he loued better: albeit his heart somewhat grudged, that he was not afore made of counsell in this matter, as he was of the taking of hir kinred, and of their putting to death, which were by his assent before deuised to be beheaded at Pomfret this selfe same daie, in which he was not ware that it was by other deuised, that he himselfe should be beheaded the same daie at London. Then said the protector: Ye shall all sée in what wise that sorceresse, and that other witch of hir counsell Shores wife, with their affinitie, haue by their sorcerie and witchcraft wasted my bodie. And therwith he plucked vp his dublet sléeue to his elbow vpon his left arme, where he shewed a weerish withered arme, and small; as it was neuer other.

Herevpon euerie mans mind sore misgaue them, well perceiuing that this matter was but a quarrell. For they well wist that the quéene was too wise to go about anie such follie. And also if she would, yet would she of all folke least, make Shores wife of hir counsell, whome of all women she most hated, as that concubine whome the king hir husband had most loued. And also, no man was there present, but well knew that his arme was euer such since his birth. Nathelesse, the lord chamberlaine (which from the death of king Edward kept Shores wife, on whome he somewhat doted in the kings life, sauing (as it is said) he that while forbare hir of reuerence toward the king, else of a certeine kind of fidelitie to his fréend) answered and said: Certeinelie my lord, if they haue so heinouslie doone, they be worthie heinous punishment.

[Sidenote: The lord Stanleie wounded.]

What (quoth the protector) thou seruest me I wéene with ifs and with ands, I tell thée they haue so doone, and that I will make good on thy bodie traitor: and therewith as in a great anger, he clapped his fist vpon the boord a great rap. At which token one cried, Treason, without the chamber. Therewith a doore clapped, and in come there rushing men in harnesse, as manie as the chamber might hold. And anon the protector said to the lord Hastings: I arrest thée traitor: What me my lord? (quoth he.) Yea thée traitor quoth the protector. And an other let flie at the lord Stanleie, which shrunke at the stroke, & fell vnder the table, or else his head had béene cleft to the téeth: for as shortlie as he shranke, yet ran the bloud about his eares.

[Sidenote: Lord Hastings lord chamberleine beheaded.]

Then were they all quickelie bestowed in diuerse chambers, except the lord chamberleine, whome the protector bad spéed and shriue him apace, for by saint Paule (quoth he) I will not to dinner till I sée thy head off. It booted him not to aske whie, but heauilie tooke a priest at aduenture, & made a short shrift: for a longer would not be suffered, the protector made so much hast to dinner, which he might not go to, vntill this were doone, for sauing of his oth. So was he brought foorth to the gréene beside the chappell within the Tower, and his head laid downe vpon a long log of timber, and there striken off, and afterward his bodie with the head interred at Windsor beside the bodie of king Edward, both whose soules our Lord pardon. [Thus began he to establish his kingdome in bloud, growing thereby in hatred of the nobles, and also abridging both the line of his life, and the time of his regiment: for God will not haue bloudthirstie tyrants daies prolonged, but will cut them off in their ruffe; according to Dauids words:

[Sidenote: _Buchan. in psal. 55._]

Impio, fallaci, auidoque cædis
Fila mors rumpet viridi in iuuenta.]

[Sidenote: The lord Stanleie's dreame.]

A maruellous case is it to heare either the warnings of that he should haue voided, or the tokens of that he could not void. For the selfe night next before his death, the lord Stanleie sent a trustie messenger vnto him at midnight in all the hast, requiring him to rise and ride awaie with him, for he was disposed vtterlie no longer to bide, he had so fearfull a dreame; in which him thought that a boare with his tuskes so rased them both by the heads, that the bloud ran about both their shoulders. And forsomuch as the protector gaue the boare for his cognisance, this dreame made so fearfull an impression in his heart, that he was throughlie determined no longer to tarrie, but had his horsse readie, if the lord Hastings would go with him, to ride yet so farre the same night, that they should be out of danger yer daie.

Ha good Lord (quoth the lord Hastings to this messenger) leaneth my lord thy maister so much to such trifles, and hath such faith in dreames, which either his owne feare fantasieth, or doo rise in the nights rest by reason of his daies thought? Tell him it is plaine witchcraft to beléeue in such dreames, which if they were tokens of things to come, why thinketh he not that we might be as likelie to make them true by our going, if we were caught & brought backe, as fréends faile fliers; for then had the boare a cause likelie to rase vs with his tusks, as folke that fled for some falsehood. Wherefore, either is there perill, or none there is in déed: or if anie be, it is rather in going than biding. And in case we should néeds fall in perill one waie or other, yet had I rather that men should sée that it were by other mens falsehood, than thinke it were either by our owne fault, or faint heart. And therefore go to thy maister (man) and commend me to him, & praie him be merrie & haue no feare: for I insure him I am as sure of the man that he woteth of, as I am of mine owne hand. God send grace sir (quoth the messenger) and went his waie.

[Sidenote: Foretokens of imminent misfortune to the lord Hastings.]

Certeine is it also, that in riding towards the Tower, the same morning in which he was beheaded, his horsse twise or thrise stumbled with him, almost to the falling. Which thing albeit ech man wote well dailie happeneth to them, to whom no such mischance is toward; yet hath it béene of an old rite and custome obserued, as a token oftentimes notablie foregoing some great misfortune. Now this that followeth was no warning, but an enuious scorne. The same morning yer he was vp, came a knight vnto him, as it were of courtesie, to accompanie him to the councell; but of truth sent by the protector to hast him thitherwards, with whome he was of secret confederacie in that purpose; a meane man at that time and now of great authoritie.

This knight (I say) when it happened the lord chamberleine by the waie to staie his horsse, & common a while with a priest whome he met in the Tower stréet, brake his tale, and said merilie to him; What my lord, I pray you come on, whereto talke you so long with that priest? you haue no néed of a priest yet: and therwith he laughed vpon him, as though he would say, Ye shall haue soone. But so little wist the tother what he ment, and so little mistrusted, that he was neuer merrier, nor neuer so full of good hope in his life, which selfe thing is oft séene a signe of change. But I shall rather let anie thing passe me, than the vaine suertie of mans mind so néere his death [flattering himselfe with deceitfull conceipts of inward motions of life to be prolonged, euen in present cases of deadlie danger, and heauie misfortunes offering great mistrust; as he did that is noted for speaking like a foole:

[Sidenote: _Mani. lib. 4. Astro._]

Non est (crede mihi) sapientis dicere, Viuam:
Nascentes morimur, finísq; ab origine pendet.]

Vpon the verie Tower wharfe, so néere the place where his head was off soone after, there met he with one Hastings a purseuant of his owne name. And at their méeting in that place, he was put in remembrance of another time, in which it had happened them before to méet in like manner togither in the same place. At which other time the lord chamberleine had béene accused vnto king Edward by the lord Riuers the quéenes brother, in such wise, as he was for the while (but it lasted not long) farre fallen into the kings indignation, & stood in great feare of himselfe. And forsomuch as he now met this purseuant in the same place, that ieopardie so well passed, it gaue him great pleasure to talke with him thereof, with whome he had before talked thereof in the same place, while he was therein.

And therefore he said: Ha Hastings, art thou remembred when I met thée here once with an heauie heart? Yea my lord (quoth he) that remember I well, and thanked be God, they gat no good, nor you no harme thereby. Thou wouldest say so (quoth he) if thou knewest as much as I know, which few know else as yet, and mo shall shortlie. That meant he by the lords of the quéenes kinred that were taken before, and should that daie be beheaded at Pomfret: which he well wist, but nothing ware that the ax hung ouer his owne head. In faith man (quoth he) I was neuer so sorie, nor neuer stood in so great dread in my life, as I did when thou and I met here. And lo how the world is turned, now stand mine enimies in the danger (as thou maiest hap to heare more hereafter) and I neuer in my life so merrie, nor neuer in so great suertie.

[Sidenote: The description of the lord Hastings.]

O good God, the blindnesse of our mortall nature, when he most feared, he was in good suertie; when he reckoned himselfe surest, he lost his life, and that within two houres after. Thus ended this honorable man, a good knight and a gentle, of great authoritie with his prince, of liuing somewhat dissolute, plaine and open to his enimie, & secret to his friend, easie to beguile, as he that of good heart and courage forestudied no perils, a louing man, and passing well beloued: verie faithfull, and trustie inough, trusting too much. Now flew the fame of this lords death swiftlie through the citie, and so foorth further about like a wind in euerie mans eare. But the protector, immediatlie after dinner, intending to set some colour vpon the matter, sent in all the hast for manie substantiall men out of the citie into the tower.

Now at their comming, himselfe with the duke of Buckingham, stood harnessed in old ill faring briganders, such as no man should wéene, that they would vouchsafe to haue put vpon their backs, except that some sudden necessitie had constreined them. And then the protector shewed them, that the lord chamberleine, and other of his conspiracie, had contriued to haue suddenlie destroied him, and the duke, there the same day in the councell. And what they intended further, was as yet not well knowne. Of which their treason he neuer had knowledge before ten of the clocke the same forenoone, which sudden feare draue them to put on for their defense such harnesse as came next to hand. And so had God holpen them, that the mischiefe turned vpon them that would haue doone it. And this he required them to report.

[Sidenote: The protectors proclamation.]

Euerie man answered him faire, as though no man mistrusted the matter, which of truth no man beléeued. Yet for the further appeasing of the peoples minds, he sent immediatlie after diner in all the hast one herald of armes, with a proclamation to be made through the citie in the kings name, conteining, that the lord Hastings, with diuerse other of his traitorous purposes, had before conspired the same day to haue slaine the lord protector, and the duke of Buckingham sitting in the councell; and after to haue taken vpon them to rule the king & the realme at their pleasure, and therby to pill and spoile whome they list vncontrolled. And much matter there was in that proclamation, deuised to the slander of the lord chamberleine, as that he was an ill councellor to the kings father, intising him to manie things highlie redounding to the minishing of his honour, and to the vniuersall hurt of the realme.

[Sidenote: The life and déeds of the lord chamberlaine laid open.]

The meanes whereby; namelie, his euill companie, sinister procuring, and vngratious example, as well in manie other things, as in the vicious liuing and inordinate abusion of his bodie, with manie other, and also speciallie with Shores wife, which was one also of his most secret counsell in this most heinous treason, with whome he laie nightlie, and namelie the night last past next before his death. So that it was the lesse maruell, if vngratious liuing brought him to an vnhappie ending, which he was now put vnto by the most dread commandement of the kings highnesse, and of his honorable and faithfull councell, both for his demerits, being so openlie taken in his falslie conceiued treason, and also least the delaieng of his execution might haue incouraged other mischiefous persons, partners of his conspiracie, to gather and assemble themselues togither, in making some great commotion for his deliuerance: whose hope being now by his well deserued death politikelie repressed, all the realme should (by Gods grace) rest in good quiet and peace.