Truth well met.

Thankes Poetrie, what makes thou vpon a stage?

Shadowes.

Why will Truth be a Player?

Whereof?

But tell me truth, of Henry what ensued?

Whose Ghoast was that did appeare to vs?

What shield was that he let fall?

What maner of man was this Richard Duke of Gloster?

Long liue my soueraigne, in all happinesse.

And welcome you Peeres of England vnto your King.

For our vnthankfulnesse the heauens hath throwne thee downe.

I feare for our ingratitude, our angry God doth frowne.

May withdraw thy ambition from me.

No I am resolute, except thou submit.

Ah yeeld Lord Marcus, thou art too obstinate.

Now let me see you friendly giue one an other your hands.

Now for confirming of it, here take your oathes.

Like oath take I, and craue confusion. [...]

Euen when the greatest of his torments had left him.

But are the nobles agreed to the contentment of the Prince?

The Nobles and Peeres are agreed as the King would wish them.

Lodwicke thou reuiuest me.

I but few thought that the agreement and his life would haue ended togither.

Why Lodwicke is he dead.

In briefe mistresse Shore, he hath changed his life.

He hath made his brother Duke of Gloster Protector.

Thanks good Lodwicke.

Why no.

Wilt thou come in the night and cut my throate?

No.

Why no, I tell thee.

Why how should I then be vncertaine of mine owne?

Why sir, by reason the King is dead.

And I for my sonnes pardon.

Now mistresse Shore, how fare you?

The better that thou liues, doth he.

May it please your Maiestie.

Ha villaine, Maiestie.

I speake but vpon that which shalbe my good Lord.

But whats he with thee?

My Lord.

God send it my Lord, but my Lord willed me to satis­fie you, and to tell you by word of mouth that he hath in readi­nesse a braue company of men.

What power hath he?

A braue band of his owne.

What number?

My Lord, to the number of fiue hundreth footmen. And horsmen ayders vnto him, is my Lord Chamberlaine, and my Lord Hastings.

Sounes, dares he trust the Lord Hastings.

I my Lord as his owne life, he is secret I warrant you.

Well Perciuall, this matter is waightie and must not be slipt, therefore return this answere to thy Lord, that to morrow I will meet him, for to day I cannot, for now the funerall is past I must set a screene before the fire for feare of suspition: again, I am now to strengthen my selfe by the controuersie that is be­twixt the kindred of the King deceast, and the Queene thats li­uing, the yoong Prince is yet in hucsters handling, and they not throughly friendes, now must I so worke, that that water that driues the mill may drowne it. I climbe Perciuall, I regard more the glorie then the gaine, for the very name of a King redouble a mans life with fame, when death hath done his worst, and so commend me to thy Lord, and take thou this for thy paines.

I thanke your grace, I humbly take my leaue.

Why so, now Fortune make me a King, Fortune giue me a kingdome, let the world report the Duke of Gloster was a King, therefore Fortune make me King, if I be but King for a yeare, nay but halfe a yeare, nay a moneth, a weeke, three dayes, one day, or halfe a day, nay an houre, swounes half an houre, nay sweete Fortune, clap but the Crowne on my head, that the vas­sals may but once say, God saue King Richards life, it is inough. Sirrha, who is there?

My Lord.

What hearest thou about the Court?

This my Lord, they say the yong king is comming vp to his coronation, attended on by his two vnkles, Earle Riuers & Lord Gray, and the rest of the Queenes kindred.

A parlous bone to ground vpon, and a rush stifly knit, which if I could finde a knot, I would giue one halfe to the dogs and set fire on the other.

It is reported my Lord, but I know not whether it be true or no, that the Duke of Buckingham is vp in the Marches of Wales with a band of men, and as they say, hee aimes at the Crowne.

Tush a shadow without a substance, and a feare with­out a cause: but yet if my neighbours house bee on fire, let me seeke to saue mine owne, in trust is treason, time slippth, it is ill iesting with edge tooles, or dallying with Princes matters, Ile strike whillst the yron is hote, and Ile trust neuer a Duke of Buckingham, no neuer a Duke in the world, further then I see him. And sirrha, so follow me.

I see my Lord is fully resolued to climbe, but how hee climbes ile leaue that to your iudgements, but what his fall will be thats hard to say: But I maruell that the Duke of Bucking­ham and he are now become such great friends, who had wont to loue one another so well as the spider doth the flie: but this I haue noted, since he hath had the charge of Protector, how ma­ny noble men hath fled the realme, first the Lord Marcus sonne to the Queene, the Earle of Westmorland and Northumberland, are secretly fled: how this geare will cotten I know not. But what do I medling in such matters, that should medle with the vntying of my Lordes points, faith do euen as a great many do beside, medle with Princes matters so long, til they proue them­selues beggars in the end. Therfore I for feare I should be taken nipping with any words, Ile set a locke on my lips, for feare my [Page] tongue grow too wide for my mouth.

Right louing vnckles, and the rest of this company, my mother hath written, and thinks it conuenient that we dismisse our traine, for feare the towne of Northampton is not able to re­ceiue vs: and againe my vnckle of Gloster may rather thinke we come of malice against him and his blood: therefore my Lords, let me here your opinions, for my words and her letters are all one: and besides I my selfe giue consent.

Then thus may it please your grace, I will shewe my opinion. First note the two houses of Lancaster and Yorke, the league of friendship is yet but greene betwixt them, and little cause of variance may cause it breake, and thereby I thinke it not requisite to discharge the cōpany because of this. The Duke of Buckingham is vp in the Marches of VVales with a great power, and with him is ioyned the Protector, for what cause I know not, therefore my Lords, I haue spoken my mind boldly, but do as your honours shall thinke good.

Why my Lord Riuers, wherefore is he Protector but for the Kings safetie?

I sir Thomas Vaughan, and therefore a traitor, because he is Protector.

We haue the Prince in charge, therefore we neede not care.

We haue the Prince, but they the authoritie.

Why take you not the Duke of Buckingham for the Kings friend?

Yes, and yet we may misdoubt the Duke of Gloster as a foe.

Why then my Lord Riuers, I thinke it is conuenient that we leaue you here behind vs at Northamton, for conference with them, and if you heare their pretence be good towards the King, you may in Gods name make returne & come with them, [Page] but if not, leaue them and come to vs with speed. For my sister the Queene hath willed that we should dismisse our companie, and the King himselfe hath agreed to it, therfore we must needs obey.

If it please your grace I am content, and humbly take my leaue of you all.

Farewell good vnckle, ah gods, if I do liue my fathers yeares as God forbid but I may, I will so roote out this malice & enuie sowne among the nobilitie, that I will make them weary that were the first beginners of these mischiefes.

A toward yoong Prince, and no doubt forward to all vertue, whose raigne God long prosper among vs.

But come vnckle, let vs forward of our iourny towards London.

We will attend vpon your Maiestie.

Come on mine Oste, what doest thou vnderstand my tale or no?

I faith my guest you haue amazed mee alreadie, and to heare it again, it wil mad me altogither, but because I may think vpon it the better, I pray you let me heare it once more.

Why then thus, I serue the right honourable the Lord Protector.

I, I know that too well.

Then this is his graces pleasure, that this night he will be lodged in thy house, thy fare must be sumptuous, thy lodgings cleanly, his men vsed friendly and with great curtesie, and that he may haue his lodging prepared as neare Lord Riuer [...] [...]sible may be

Why sir if this be all, this is done alreadie.

Nay more.

Nay sir, & you loue me no more, heres too much already.

Nay, my Lords graces pleasure is further, that when all thy guesse haue tane their chambers, that thou conuey into my Lords hands the keyes of euery seuerall chamber, and what my Lords pleasure is further, thou shalt know in the morning.

How locke in my guesse like prisoners, why doe you heare my guesse? mee thinkes there should be little better then treason in these words you haue vttered.

Treason villaine, how darest thou haue a thought of treason against my Lord, therefore you were best be briefe, and tell me whether you will do it or no?

Alasse what shall I do? who were I best to offend? shall I betraie that good olde Earle that hath laine at my house this fortie yeares? why and I doe hee will hang me: nay then on the other side, if I should not do as my Lord Protector commands, he will chop off my head, but is there no remedie?

Come sir be briefe, there is no remedie, therefore be briefe and tell me straight.

Why then sir heres my hand, tell my Lord Protector he shall haue it, I will do as he commands mee, but euen against my will, God is my witnesse.

Why then farewell mine Oste.

Farewell euen the woorst guest that euer came to my house, A maisters, maisters, what a troublesome vocation am I crept into, you thinke we that be In-keepers get all the world, but I thinke I shall get a faire halter to my necke, but I must go see all things done to my great griefe.

So now my Lord of Buckingham, let vs hoyst vp saile while the winde serues, this hot beginning must haue a quicke dispatch, therefore I charge and command straightly, that euerie high way be laid close, that none may be suffered to carrie this newes before we our selues come, for if word come before vs, then is our pretence bewraid, and all we haue done to no effect. If any aske the cause why they may not passe, vse my authoritie, and if he resist shoote him through. Now my Lord of Bucking­ham, let vs take post horse to Stony Stratford, where happily ile say such grace to the Princes dinner, that I will make the deuou­test of them forget what meat they eate and yet all for the best I hope.

Lord Gray, you do discomfort the King by reason of your heauinesse.

Alasse sir Richard, how can I be merry when we haue so great a charge of his grace: and again this makes me to greeue the more, because wee cannot heare from Earle Riuers, which makes me think the Protector and he haue bene at some words.

Why good vnkle comfort your selfe, no doubt my vn­kle Earle Riuers is well, & is comming no doubt with my vnkle of Gloster to meete vs, else we should haue heard to the contra­rie. If any haue cause to feare, it is my selfe, therfore good vnkle comfort your selfe and be not sad.

The sweete ioyce of such a grape would comfort a man were he halfe dead, and the sweete words of such a Prince would make men carlesse of mishaps, how dangerous soeuer.

Lord Gray, we heare now by all likelihoods the Protec­tor not to be farre, therefore wee are to entertaine him and the Duke of Buckingham with curtesie, both for the Princes be­halfe and for our owne.

Sir Richard Hapc, I shall hardly shew the Protector or the Duke of Buckingham any mery countenance, considering how hardly I haue bene vsed by them both, but yet for loue to my prince I wil bridle my affectiō, but in good time they come.

Long liue my Princely Nephew in all happinesse.

Thankes vnckle of Gloster for your curtesie, yet you haue made hast, for we lookt not for you as yet.

Therein I shew my humble dutie to your grace, whose life I wish to redouble your deceased fathers dayes.

Thankes good vnckle.

Long liue my gratious Prince.

Thankes Buckingham, but vnckle you will beare vs company towards London?

For that cause we came.

Gentlemen on afore keep your roomes, how now Lord Gray, doo you iustle in the presence of the King? This is more then needs.

My Lord, I scarce touched you, I hope it be no offence.

Sir no great offence, but inward enuy will burst out, No Lord Gray, you cannot hide your malice to vs of the Kings blood.

Why good vnckle let me know the cause of your sud­daine quarrell?

Marry thus noble Nephew, the old wound of enuy, be­ing rubbed by Lord Grayes venomous rashnesse, is growne to such a venomous sore that it is incurable, without remooue of dead flesh.

Lord Gray, I do so much dislike thy abuse, that were it not in presence of the Prince, I would bid thee combate: but thus and it shal like your grace, I arest, & atache this Lord Gray, Sir Thomas Vaughon, and Richard Hapce, of high treason to your grace. And that Lord Gray hath conueyed money out of the Tower to relieue our enemies the Scots, and now by curry­ing fauour with your Maiestie, he thinkes it to be hid.

Only this I adde, you gouerne the Prince without my authoritie, allowing me no more then the bare name of Protec­tor, which I wil haue in the dispight of you, and therfore as your competitor Earle Riuers is alreadie imprisoned, so shall you be, till time affoord the law to take place.

But whereas we are atacht as traytors to his grace, and gouerne him without your authoritie, why we haue authoritie from the mother Queene. And for the deliuery of the mony to the Scots, it was done by a generall consent of you all, and that I haue your hands to shew for my discharge, therfore your arest & atachment is not lawfull: & yet as lawful as your quarell is right.

Thy presumption condemnes thee Lord Gray, thy a­rest is lawfull. Therefore see them speedily and secretly impriso­ned, and after the coronation they shall answer it by law, meane while, Officers looke to your charge.

A Gods, and is it iustice without my consent? Am I a King and beare no authoritie? My louing kindred committed to prison as traytors in my presence, and I stand to giue aime at them. A Edward, would thou laist by thy fathers side, or else he had liued till thou hadst bin better able to rule. If my neere kin­dred be committed to prison, what remains for me, a crowne? A but how? so beset with sorrows, that the care & grief wil kil me ere I shal enioy my kingdome. Well since I cannot command, I wil intreat Good vnkle of Gloster, for all I can say little, but for my vnkle Lord Gray, what need he be a theef or conuey money out of the Tower, when he hath sufficient of his own? But good vnkle let me baile them all: If not, I will baile my vnckle Lord Gray if I may.

Your grace vndertakes you know not what, the mat­ters are perillous, especially against the Lord Gray.

What perilous matters, considering he is a friend to vs?

He may be a friend to win fauour, & so climbe to pro­motion in respect of his equals. His equals, nay his betters.

I know my vnckle will conceale no treason, or dange­rous seeresie from vs.

Yes secrets that are too subtil for babes, Alasse my Lord you are a child, and they vse you as a child: but they consult and conclude of such matters, as were we not carefull, would proue preiudiciall to your Maiesties person. Therefore let not your grace feare any thing by our determination, for as my authoritie is onely vnder your grace, so shall my loyaltie deserue hereafter [Page] the iust recompence of a true subiect, therefore I hauing charge frō my brother your father, & our late deceased king, during the minoritie of your grace, I wil vse my authoritie as I see good.

Ay me vnhappie king.

Nay let not your grace be dismaid for our imprisonmēt, but I would we could warrant your grace from harme, & so we humbly take our leaues of your grace, hoping that ere long we shall answer by law to the shame & disgrace of you all.

Go, you shall answere it by law.

But come vnkle shal we to Lon. to our vntimely cronatiō?

What else and please your maiestie, where by the way I will appoint trustie Officers about you.

Sound Trumpet in this parley, God saue the King.

Richard.

May it please your grace to shew to your children the cause of your heauines, that we knowing it, may be copartners of your sorrowes.

Ay me poore husbandles queene, & you poore fatherlesse princes.

Good mother expect the liuing, and forget the dead. What tho our father be dead, yet behold his children, the image of himselfe.

Ay poore Princes, my mourning is for you and for your brother, who is gone vp to an vntimely crownation.

Why mother he is a Prince, and in handes of our two vnckles, Earle Riuers, & Lord Gray, who wil no doubt be care­full of his estate.

I know they will, but kings haue mortall enemies, as well as friends that esteeme and regard them. A sweet children, when I am at rest my nightly dreames are dreadful. Me thinks as I lie in my bed, I see the league broken which was sworne at the death of your kingly father, tis this my children and many other causes of like importance, that makes your aged mother to la­ment as she doth.

May it please your grace.

A my son, no more grace, for I am so sore disgraced, that without Gods grace, I fall into dispaire with my selfe, but who is this?

What art thou that with thy gastly lookes preaseth in­to sanctuary, to affright our mother Queene.

A sweet Princes, doth my countenance bewray me? My newes is doubtfull and heauie.

Then vtter it to vs, that our mother may not heare it.

A yes my friend, speake what ere it be.

Then thus may it please your grace, The yong prince comming vp to his coronation, attended on by his two vnckles, Earle Riuers, and Lord Gray, and the rest of your kindred, was by the Duke of Buckingham and the Protector, met at stonie Stratford, where on a suddaine grew malice betweene the Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Gray, but in the end, the Duke of Buckinghams malice grew so great, that he arested and atta­ched all those of your kindred of high treason, whereupon the Protector being too rash in iudgement, hath committed them all to Pomphret Castle.

Where I feare he will butcher them all, but where is the Prince my sonne?

He remaines at London in the Bishops palace, in the hands of the Protector.

A traitors, will they laie hands on their Prince, and imprison his Peeres, which no doubt meanes well towards him: But tell me, art not thou seruant to the Arch-Bishop of Yorke?

Yes and it please your grace, for himselfe is here at hand with Letters from the Councell, and here he comes.

But here my friend, griefe had almost made me for­get thy reward.

A come my Lord, thou bringest the heauie newes, come shoote thine arrow, and hit this heart that is almost dead with griefe al­readie.

What ere my newes be, haue patience, the Duke of Glo­ster [Page] greets your grace.

Draw home my Lord, for now you hit the marke.

The Prince your sonne doth greete your grace.

A happie gale that blew that arrow by, A let me see the Letter that he sent, perhaps it may prolong my life a while.

How doth my brother, is he in health my Lord?

In health sweete Prince, but longes to haue thy com­panie.

I am content, if my mother will let me go.

Content or not, sweete Prince it must be so.

Hold, and haue they persuaded thee my sonne to haue thy brother too away from me, nay first I will know what shall become of thee, before I send my other sonne to them.

Looke on this Letter and aduise your selfe, for thus the Councell hath determined.

And haue they chosen thee among the rest; for to persuade me to this enterprise? No my Lord, and thus persuade your selfe, I will not send him to be butchered.

Your grace misdoubts the worst, they send for him on­ly to haue him bedfellow to the King, and there to staie & keep him company. And if your sonne miscary, then let his blood be laid vnto my charge: I know their drifts and what they do pre­tend, for they shall both this night sleepe in the Tower, and to morrow they shall come forth to his happie cronation. Vpon my honour this is the full effect, for see the ambusht nobles are at hand to take the Prince away from you by force, if you will not by faire meanes let him go.

Why my Lord wil you breake Sanctuary, and bring in rebels to affright vs thus? No, you shall rather take away my life before you get my boy away from me.

Why Madame haue you taken Sanctuary?

I my Lord, and high time too I trow.

A heauie case when Princes flie for aide, where cut­throates, rebels, and bankerouts should be. But Madame what answere do you returne, if I could persuade you, twere best to let him go.

But for I see you counsell for the best, I am content that you shall haue my son, in hope that you will send him safe to me, here I deliuer him into your hands.

Farewell my boy, commend me to thy brother.

Mother farewell, and farewell sister too, I will but see my brother and returne to you.

Teares stops my speech. Come let vs in my Lord.

I will attend vpon your grace. Hold take the Prince, the Queen & I haue done, Ile take my leaue, and after you ile come.

How now my friend, shall I go to my brother?

What else sweete Prince, and for that cause wee are come, to beare you company.

Why thus by keeping company, am I become like vn­to those with whom I keepe company. As my Lorde hopes to weare the Crown, so I hope by that means to haue preferment, but in steed of the Crowne, the blood of the headles light vpon his head: he hath made but a wrong match, for blood is a threat­ner and will haue reuenge. He makes hauocke of all to bring his purpose to passe: all those of the Queens kinred that were com­mitted to Pomphret Castle, hee hath caused them to be secretly put to death without iudgemēt: the like was neuer seen in Eng­land. He spares none whom he but mistrusteth to be a hinderer to his proceedings, he is straight chopt vp in prison The valiant Earle of Oxford being but mistrusted, is kept close prisoner in Hames Castle. Againe, how well Doctor Shaw hath pleased my Lord, that preached at Paules Crosse yesterday, that proued the two Princes to be bastards, whereupon in the after noone came downe my Lord Mayor and the Aldermen to Baynards Castle, and offered my Lord the whole estate vpon him, and offered to make him King, which he refused so faintly, that if it had bene offered once more, I know he would haue taken it, the Duke of Buckingham is gone about it, and is now in the Guild Hall ma­king his Oration. But here comes my Lord.

Catesby content thee, I haue warned the Lord Hastings to this Court, and since he is so hard to be wonne, tis better to cut him off then suffer him, he hath bene all this while partaker to our secrets, and if he should but by some mislike vtter it, then were we all cast away.

Nay my Lord do as you will, yet I haue spoken what I can in my friends cause.

Goto no more ado Catesby, they say I haue bin a long sleeper to day, but ile be awake anon to some of their costs. But sirrha are those men in readinesse that I appointed you to get?

I my Lord, & giue diligent attendance vpon your grace.

Goto, looke to it then Catesby, get thee thy weapons readie, for I will enter the Court.

I will my Lord.

Doth my Lord say he hath bene a long sleeper to day? There are those of the Court that are of another opinion, that thinks his grace lieth neuer lōg inough a bed. Now there is court held to day by diuerse of the Councell, which I feare me wil cost the Lord Hastings and the Lord Standley their best cappes: for my Lord hath willed mee to get halfe a dozen ruffians in readi­nesse, and when he knocks with his fist vpon the boord, they to rush in, and to crie, treason, treason, and to laie hands vpon the Lord Hastings, and the Lord Stannley, which for feare I should let slip, I will giue my diligent attendance.

Come bring him away, let this suffice, thou and that ac­cursed sorceresse the mother Queene hath bewitched me, with assistance of that famous strumpet of my brothers, Shores wife: my withered arme is a sufficient testimony, deny it if thou canst: laie not Shores wife with thee last night?

That she was in my house my Lord I cannot deny, but not for any such matter. If.

If villain, feedest thou me with Ifs & ands, go fetch me a Priest, make a short shrift, and dispatch him quickly For by the blessed Saint Paule I sweare, I will not dine till I see the [Page] traitors head, away sir Thomas, suffer him not to speak, see him executed straight, & let his copartner the Lord Standly be car­ried to prison also, tis not his broke head I haue giuen him, shall exscues him.

Catesbie goe you and see it presently proclaimed throughout the Citie of London by a Herald of Armes, that the cause of his death and the rest, were for conspiring by Witchcraft the death▪ of me and the Duke of Buckingham, that so they might gouern the King and rule the realme, I thinke the proclamation be al­most done.

I my good Lord, and finished too.

Well then about it. But hearest thou Catesbie, meane while I will listen after successe of the Duke of Buckingham, who is labouring all this while with the Citizens of London to make me King, which I hope shall be shortly, for thou seest our foes now are fewer, and we neerer the marke then before, and when I haue it, looke thou for the place of thy friend the Lord Hastings, meane while about thy businesse.

I thanke your grace.

Now sirrha to thee, there is one thing more vndone, which grieues me more then all the rest: and to say the truth, it is of more importance then all the rest.

Ah that my Lord would vtter it to his Page, then should I count my selfe a happie man, if I could ease my Lord of that great doubt.

I commend thy willingnesse, but it is too mightie and reacheth the starres.

The more waightie it is, the sooner shall I by doing it, increase your honours good liking toward me.

Be assured of that, but the matter is of waight & [...]reat importance, and doth concerne the state.

Why my Lord, I will choake them with gifts that sha [...] performe it, therefore good my Lord, trust me in this cause.

Indeed thy trust I know to be so true, that I care not to [Page] vtter it vnto thee. Come hither, & yet the matter is too waigh­tie for so meane a man.

Yet good my Lord, vtter it.

Why thus it is, I would haue my two Nephewes the yoong Prince and his brother secretly murthered, Sownes vil­laine tis out, wilt thou do it? or wilt thou betray me?

My Lord you shall see my forwardnesse herein, I am acquainted with one Iames Terrell, that lodgeth-hard by your honors chamber, with him my Lord will I so worke, that soone at night you shall speake with him.

Of what reputation or calling is that Terrell, may we trust him with that which once knowne, were the vtter confu­sion of me and my friends for euer?

For his trust my Lord, I dare be bounde, onely this, a poore gentleman he is, hoping for preferment by your grace, and vpon my credit my Lord, he will see it done.

Well in this be verie circumspect and sure with thy di­ligence, be liberall, and looke for a day to make thee blesse thy self, wherin thou seruedst so good a Lord. And now that Shores wifes goods be confiscate, goe from me to the Bishop of Lon­don, and see that she receiue her open penance, let her be turnd out of prison, but so bare as a wretch that worthely hath deser­ued that plague: and let there be straight proclaimation made by my Lord the Mayor, that none shall releeue her nor pittie her, and priuie spies set in euerie corner of the Citie, that they may take notice of them that releeues her: for as her beginning was most famous aboue all, so will I haue her end most infamous aboue all. Haue care now my boy, and winne thy maisters heart for euer.

Ah vnfortunate Shores wife, dishonour to the King, a shame to thy countrey, and the onely blot of defame to all thy kindred: Ay why was I made faire that a King should fauour me? But my friends should haue preferd discipline before affec­tion: for they know of my folly, yea my owne husband knew of my breach of disloyaltie, and yet suffered me, by reason hee [Page] knew it bootlesse to kicke against the pricke. A sweet King Ed­ward, little didst thou thinke Shores wife should haue bene so hardly vsed, thy vnnaturall brother not concent with my goods which are yet confiscate in his custodie, but yet more to adde to my present miserie, hath proclaimed vpon great penaltie, that none whatsoeuer, shall either aide or succour me, but here be­ing comfortlesse to die in the streets with hunger. I am constrai­ned to beg, but I feare tis in vaine, for none will pittie me. Yet here come one to whom I haue done good, in restoring his lands that were lost, now will I trie him to see if he will giue mee any­thing.

A time how thou suffrest fortune to alter estates, & chan­gest the mindes of the good for the worst. How many headlesse Peeres sleepe in their graues, whose places are furnish with thei [...] inferiours? Such as are neither nobly borne, nor vertuously min­ded. My heart hardly bewailes the losse of the yoong King, by the outrage of the Protector, who hath proclamed himselfe King, by the name of Richard the third. The Commons mur­mure at it greatly, that the yoong King and his brother should be imprisoned, but to what end tis hard to say, but many think they shall neuer come forth againe. But God do all for the best and that the right heires may not be vtterly ouerthrowne.

A gods what a griefe is it for me to aske, where I haue giuen.

A my good Lord Hastings, how innocently thou di­edst the heauens beare witnesse.

Good sir take pittie vppon mee, and releeue mee.

Indeed tis pittie to see so faire a face to aske for almes; But tell me, hast thou no friends?

Yes sir I had many frends, but when my chiefest friend of all died, the rest then forsooke me.

Belike then thy fact was notorious, that thy f [...]iends lea­uing thee would let thee go as a spoyle for villaines. But hearst [Page] thou, I prethie tell me the truth, and as I am a gentleman, I will pittie thee?

A Lodowick, tell thee the truth, why halfe this intrea­tie serued thee, when thy lands had bene cleane gone had it not bene for Shores wife, and doest thou make me so long to begge for a litle.

Indeed my lands I had restored me by mistresse Shore, but may this be she?

I Lodowicke, I am she that begged thy lands of King Edward the fourth, therefore I pray thee bestow something on me.

A gods what is this world, and how vncertaine are ri­ches? Is this she that was in such credit with the King? Nay more, that could command a King indeed? I cannot deny but my lands she restored me, but shall I by releeuing of her hurt my selfe, no: for straight proclamation is made that none shall succour her, therefore for feare I should be seene talke with her, I will shun her company and get me to my chamber, and there set downe in heroicall verse, the shameful end of a Kings Concubin, which is no doubt as wonderfull as the desolation of a kingdome.

A Lodowick if thou wilt giue me nothing, yet staie and talke with me. A no he shuns my company, all my friends now forsake mee: In prosperitie I had many, but in aduersitie none. A gods haue I this for my good I haue done, for when I was in my cheefest pomp, I thought that day wel spent where­in I might pleasure my friend by sutes to the King, for if I had spoken, he would not haue said nay. For tho he was King, yet Shores wife swayd the swoord. I where neede was, there was I bountifull, and mindfull I was still vppon the poore to releeue them▪ and now none will know me nor succour me: therefore here shall I die for want of sustenance. Yet here comes another whom I haue done good vnto in sauing the life of his sonne, wel I will trie him, to see if he will giue me any thing.

No men no lawes, no Princes no orders, alls husht neigh­bour now hees king, but before he was king how was the tems thwackt with ruffians? what fraies had we in the streets? Now he hath proclaimed peace betweene Scotland and England for sixe yeares, to what end I know not, vsurpers had neede to be wise.

A good sir releeue me, and bestow something vpon me.

A neighbour, hedges haue eyes, and high-wayes haue eares, but who ist a beggar-woman? the streets are full of them, Ifaith. But heeres thou, hast thou no friendes that thou goest a begging so?

Yes sir I had friends, but they are all dead as you are.

Why am I dead neighbour? why thou arrant queane what meanst thou by that?

I meane they are dead in charitie. But I pray sir, had not you the life of your sonne saued in the time of king Edward▪ the fourth, by one Shores wife?

Yes mary had I, but art thou a sprig of the same bough? I promise you neighbor I thoght so, that so idle a huswife could not be without the acquaintance of so noble a strumpet: well for her sake ile giue thee somewhat.

Nay then know, that I am shee that saued the life of thy condemned sonne.

Who art thou Shores wife? Lye still purse, neighbour I would not for twentie pounds haue giuen her one farthing, the proclamation is so hard by king Richard. Why minion are you she that was the dishonour to the King? the shame to her hus­band, the discredit to the Citie? Heare you, laie your fingers to worke, and get thereby somewhat to maintaine you. O neigh­bour I grow verie choloricke, and thou didst saue the life of my▪ sonne, vvhy if thou hadst not, another vvould: and for my part, I vvould he had bene hangd seuen yeeres ago, it had saued me a great deale of mony then. But come let vs go in, & let the quean alone.

Alasse thus am I become an open shame to the world, here shall I die in the streets for want of sustenance, alasse is my fact so heinous that none will pitie me? Yet heere comes ano­ther to whom I haue done good, who is least able to pleasure me, yet I will trie him, to see if he will giue me any thing.

Now sir, who but king Richard beares sway, and hath proclaimed Iohn Earle of Linclone, heire aparant to the Crown, the yoong Princes they are in the Tower, nay some saies more, they are murthered. But this makes me to muse, the Duke of Bucking ham and the King is at such variance, that did all in all to helpe him to the Crowne, but the Duke of Buckingham is rid downe to Breaknock. Castle in Wales, and there he meanes to raise vp a power to pull down the vsurper: but let them agree as they will, for the next faire winde ile ouer seas.

A Shores wife, so neere driuen, to beg of a seruingman, I, necessitie hath no law, I must needs. Good sir releeue me, and giue me something.

Why what art thou?

In briefe Morton, I am Shores wife, that haue done good to all.

A foole, and euer thy owne enemy. In troth mistresse Shore, my store is but small, yet as it is, weele part stakes, but soft I cannot do what I would, I am watcht.

Good Morton releeue me.

What should I releeue my Kings enemy?

Why thou promist thou wouldst.

I tell thee I wil not, & so be answered. Sownes I would with all my heart, but for yonder villaine, a plague on him.

An honest fellow I warrant him. How now Shores wife, will none releeue thee?

No none will releeue her, that hath bene good to all.

Why twere pitie to do thee good, but me thinkes she is fulsome and stinkes.

If I be fulsome shun my company, for none but thy Lord sought my miserie, and he hath vndone me.

Why hath he vndone thee? nay thy wicked and naugh­tie life hath vndone thee, but if thou wantest maintenance, why doest thou not fall to thy old trade againe?

Nay villaine, I haue done open penance, and am sorie for my sinnes that are past.

Sownes is Shores wife become an holie whoore, nay then we shall neuer haue done.

Why hang thee, if thy faults were so written in thy forehead as mine is, it would be as wrong with thee. But I pre­thie leaue me, and get thee from me.

And cannot you keepe the Citie but you must runne gadding to the Court, and you staie here a litle longer, ile make you be set away, and for my part, would all whoores were so ser­ued, then there would be fewer in England then there be. And so farewell good mistresse Shore.

And all such vsurping kings as thy Lord is, may come to a shamefull end, which no doubt I may liue yet to see. Ther­fore sweet God forgiue all my foule offence:

Maister Terrell, the King hath vvritten, that for one night I should deliuer you the keyes, and put you in full posses­sion But good M. Terrell, may I be so bold to demand a questi­on vvithout offence?

Else God forbid, say on vvhat ere it be.

Then this maister Terrell, for your comming I partly▪ knovv the cause, for the king oftentimes hath sent to me to haue them both dispatcht, but because I vvas a seruant to their fa­ther being Edvvard the fourth, my heart vvould neuer giue me to do the deed.

Why sir Robert you are beside the matter, vvhat neede [Page] you vse such speeches what matters are betweene the King and me, I pray you leaue it, and deliuer me the keyes.

A here with teares I deliuer you the keyes, and so far­well maister Terrell.

Alasse good sir Robert, hee is kinde hearted, but it must not preuaile, what I haue promised the King I must performe. But ho Myles Forest.

Here sir.

Myles Forest, haue you got those men I spake of, they must be resolute and pittilesse.

I warrant you sir, they are such pittilesse villaines, that all London cannot match them for their villanie, one of their names is Will Sluter, yet the most part calles him blacke Will, the other is Iack Denten, two murtherous villaines that are re­solute.

I prethie call them in that I may see them, and speake with them.

Ho Will and Iack.

Here sir, we are at hand.

These be they that I told you of.

Come hither sirs, to make a long discourse were but a folly, you seeme to be resolute in this cause that Myles Forest hath deliuered to you, therefore you must cast away pitie, & not so much as thinke vpon fauour, for the more stearne that you are, the more shall you please the King.

Zownes sir, nere talke to vs of fauour, tis not the first that Iack and I haue gone about.

Well said, but the Kings pleasure is this, that he wil haue no blood shead in the deed doing, therefore let me heare your aduises?

Why then I thinke this maister Terrell, that as they sit at supper there should be two dags readie charged, and so sud­deinly to shoote them both through.

No, I like not that so well, what saiest thou Will, what is thy opinion?

Tush, heeres more adoo then needes, I pray bring mee where they are, and ile take them by the heeles and beate their braines against the walles.

Nay that I like not, for tis too tyrannous.

Then heare me maister Terrell, let Will take one, and ile take another, and by the life of Iack Douton weele cut both their throates.

Nay sirs, then heare me, I will haue it it done in this or­der, when they be both a bed and at rest, Myles Forest thou shalt bring them vp both, and betweene two feather beds smother them both.

Why this is verie good, but stand aside, for here comes the Princes, ile bring you word when the deed is done.

How fares my noble Lord and louing brother?

A worthie brother, Richard Duke of Yorke, my cause of sorrow is not for my selfe, but this is it that addes my sorrow more, to see our vnckle whom our father left as our Protector in minoritie, should so digresse from dutie, loue and zeale, so vn­kindly thus to keepe vs vp prisoners, and know no sufficient cause for it.

Why brother comfort your selfe, for tho he detaine vs a while, he will not keepe vs long, but at last he will send vs to our louing mother againe: whither if it please God to send vs, I doubt not but our mother would keepe vs so safe, that all the Prelates in the worlde should not depriue her of vs againe: so much I assure my selfe of. But here comes Myles Forest, I prethy Myles tell my kingly brother some mery storie to passe away the time, for thou seest he is melancholy.

No Myles, tell me no mery storie, but answere me to one question, vvhat vvas he that vvalked vvith thee in the Gar­deine, me thought he had the keyes?

My Lord, it vvas one that vvas appointed by the King o be an ayde to sir Thomas Brokenbury.

Did the King, vvhy Myles Forest, am not I King?

I would haue said my Lord your vnckle the Protector.

Nay my kingly vnckle I know he is now, but let him enioy both Crowne and kingdome, so my brother and I may but enioy our liues and libertie. But tell me, is sir Robert Bro­kenbery cleane discharged?

No my Lord, he hath but charge for a night or two.

Nay then, new officers, new lawes, would we had kept the old still. But who are they whose gastly lookes doth present a dying feare to my liuing bodie. I prethee tell me Myles what are they?

One my Lord is called Iack Denten, the other is called Will Slawter. But why starts your grace?

Slawter, I pray God he come not to slaughter my bro­ther and me, for from murther and slaughter, good Lord deliuer vs. But tell me Myles is our lodging prepared?

I my Lord, if it please your brother & you to walke vp.

Then come brother, we will go to bed.

I will attend vpon your grace.

Come Myles Forest beare vs company.

Sirs staie you two here, and when they are a sleep ile call you vp.

I promise thee Will, it greeues mee to see what mone these yoong Princes make, I had rather then fortie pounds I had nere tane it in hand, tis a dangerous matter to kill innocent prin­ces, I like it not.

Why you base slaue, are you faint hearted, a little thing would make me strike thee, I promise thee.

Nay go forward, for now I am resolute: but come, lets too it.

I prethee staie, heele call vs vp anon. But sirrha Iacke, didst thou mark how the King started when he heard my name? What will he do when he feeles me?

But ho sirs, come softly, for now they are at rest.

Come we are readie, by the masse they are a sleepe in­deed.

I heare they sleep, and sleepe sweet Princes, neuer wake [Page] no more, for you haue seene the last light in this world.

Come presse them downe, it bootes not to cry againe, [...] vpon them so lustily. But maister Forest now they are dead [...]t shall we do with them?

Why goe and bury them at the heape of stones at the staire foot [...] [...] I goe and tell maister Terrell that the deed is done.

Well we will, farewell maister Forest.

I [...] now Myles Forest, is this deed dispatcht?

I sir, a bloodie deed we haue performed.

But tell me, what hast thou done with them?

I haue conueyd them to the staires foote among a heape of stones, and anon ile carry them where they shall be no more found againe, nor all the cronicles shall nere make mentiō what shall become of them: yet good maister Terrell, tell the King my name, that he may but reward me with a kingly thanks.

Ah good my Lord, saue my life.

Ah villaine, how canst thou aske for mercie, when thou hast so vniustly betraied me?

I desire your grace but giue me leaue to speake.

I speake thy last villain, that those that heare it, may see how vniustly thou hast betraied me.

Then thus my Lord. First, the proclamation was death to him that harboured your grace.

Ah villaine, and a thousand crownes to him that could [Page] betraie me.

Ah my Lord, my obeysance to my Prince is more.

Ah villain, thou betraiedst me for lucre, and not for du­tie to thy Prince, why Banister, a good seruant thinkes his life well spent, that spends it in the quarrel of his maister. But villain make thy selfe readie, and here receiue thy death.

Henry Duke of Buckingham, I arest thee in King Richards name as a traytor.

Well Herald, I will obey thy rest. But am I arrested in King Richardes name, vsurping Richard, that insatiate blood succour, that traitor to God & man. Ah Richard, did I in Guild-Hall pleade the Orator for thee, and held thee in all thy slie and wicked practises, and for my reward doest thou alot me death? Ah Buckingham, thou plaidst thy part and made him King, and put the lawfull heires besides: why then is Buckingham guiltie now of his death? yet had not the Bishop of Ely fled, I had esca­ped.

Why villaines, will you bee Traytours to your Prince?

Nay good▪ my friends giue me leaue to speake, and let me intreate you to laie your weapons by. Then know this countrey men, the cause I am arested this, Is for bringing in your lawfull King, which is Henry Earle of Richmond now in B [...]ittaine, and meanes ere long to land at Milford Hauen in Wales, where I doo know hee shall haue ayde of the cheefest of the Welch, hee is your lawfull King, and this a wrongfull vsurper. When you shall heare of him landed in that pl [...]ce, [Page] then take vp weapons and amaine to him, hee is the man must reaue you of this yoake, and send the vsurper headlesse to his home, and poore Buckingham praies vpon his knees; to blesse▪ good Richmond in his enterprise, and when the conquest shall be giuen to him, graunt he may match with Ladie Elizabeth, as promise hath to fore by him bene past, while then my friendes, leaue mee alone to death, and let me take this punishment in peace. Ah Buckingham, was not thy meaning good in displa­cing the vsurper, to raise a lawfull king? Ah Buckingham, it was too late, the lawfull heires were smothered in the Tower, sweet Edward and thy brother, I nere slept quiet thinking of your deaths. But vaunt Buckingham, thou wast altogither innocent of their deaths. But thou vilain, whom of a child I nurst thee vp, and hast so vniustly betraied thy Lorde? Let the curse of Buc­kingham nere depart from thee. Let vengeance, mischiefes, tor­tures, light on thee and thine. And after death thou maist more torture feele, then when Excon turnes the restlesse wheele. And banne thy soule where ere thou seeme to rest. But come my my friends, let me away.

My Lord we are sorie. But come laie hands on Bani­ster.

You cald my Lord, I thinke?

It may be so. But what thinkst thou Catesbie?

Of what my Lord?

Why of all these troubles.

Why my Lord, I hope to see them happily ouercom'd.

How villain, doest thou hope to see me happily ouer­com'd?

Who you my Lord?

Ay villaine, thou points at me, thou hopest to see me ouercom'd.

No my good Lord, your enemies or else not.

Ha, ha, good Catesbie, but what hearest thou of the Duke of Buckingham?

Why he is dead my Lord, he was executed at Salisbury yesterday.

Why tis impossible, his friends hopes that he shall out­line me, to be my head.

Out-liue you, Lord thats straunge.

Mary no force my Lord.

But Catesbie, what hearest thou of Henry Earle of Richmond?

Not a word my Lord.

My Lord, I thinke of the Earle as he doth deserue, A most famous gentleman.

Villaine doest thou praise my foe, and commend him to my face?

Nay my Lord, I wish he were as good a friend as he is a foe, else the due deserts of a traytor.

Whats that?

Why my Lord, to loose his head.

Why my Lord, for that I sent, I haue receiued.

And how doth your sonne then, is he in health?

For his health my Lord, I do not mistrust.

Oh good wordes Lord Standley, but giue [Page] me leaue to gleane out of your golden field of eloquence, how braue you pleade ignorance▪ as though you knew not of your sonnes departure into Brittaine out of England.

Not I my Lord.

Why is not his mother thy wife, & dares he passe ouer without the blessing of his mother, whose husband thou art?

I desire your maiestie but giue me leaue to speake?

Yea speak Standley, no doubt some fine coloured tale,

And like your grace, wheras you mistrust that I knew of my sonnes departure, out of England into Brittaine, God I take to record it was vnknowne to me, nor know not yet what his pretence is: for at his departure, was I one of the priuy coun­cell to your brother King Edward the fourth, and that she was able to relieue him without my helpe: I hope her sufficiencie is knowne to your grace. Therefore I humbly craue pardon.

Well Standley, I feare it will be proued to the contra­rie, that thou didst furnish him both with mony and munition, which if it be, then looke for no fauour at my hands, but the due deserts of a traitor: but let this passe. Whats your repaire to our presence?

Only this my Lord, that I may repaire from the court, to my house in the country.

Ay sir, that you might be in Cheshire and Lancashire, then should your Postes passe inuisible into Brittaine, and you to depart the realme at your pleasure, or else I to suffer an intol­lerable foe vnder me, which I will not. But Standley to be brief, thou shalt not go. But soft Richard, but that it were better to be alone then to haue noysome company, he shall goe, leauing for his loyaltie a sufficient pledge. Come hither Standley, thou shalt goe, leauing me here thy sonne and heire George Standley for a pledge, that hee may perish for thy fault if neede should be, if thou likest this, goe, If not, answere me briefly, and say quickly no.

I am to aduise my selfe vppon a secret cause, and of a matter that concernes me neare: say that I leaue my sonne vnto the King, and that I should but aide Earle Richmond, my sonne [Page] George Standley dies, but if my faith be kept vnto my Prince, George Standley liues. Well I will except the Kings proffer. And please your grace I am content, and will leaue my sonne▪ to pledge.

And you shall go apace, and yet go without me. But I humbly take my leaue of your grace. Farewell George.

How now, what do you giue him letters?

No my Lord, I haue done: The second sight is sweet, of such a sonne.

Carry George Standley to prison.

Alasse my Lord, shall I go to prison?

Oh my Lord so excellent, that you haue imprisoned his sonne.

God haue mercy Louell, but what said Lady Elizabeth▪

Why my Lord, straunge, as women will be at the first▪ But through intreatie of her mother, she quickly gaue consent▪ And the Queene wild me to tel your grace, that she meanes to leaue Sanctuary, and to come to the court with al her daughters.

I marry Louell let not that opportunitie slippe, looke to it Catesbie, be carefull for it Louell, for thereby hangs such a chance, that may inrich vs and our heires for euer. But sirs hard ye nothing of the Scottish Nobles that met at Nottingham, to conferre about the marriage of my Neece.

Not a word my Lord.

Gogs wounds who is that? search the villaine, has he any dags about him?

No my Lord I haue none.

From whence comes thou?

From the Peeres at Nottingham and Scotland, & they greete your Maiestie.

Sirrha is the marriage concluded betweene the Scottish Earle and the faire Lady Rosa.

Prethie tell vs, is it concluded?

How saies thou, is it concluded?

Nay will you giue me leaue to tell you that? Why you villaines will you know the secrets of my letter by interrupting messengers that are sent to me? Away I say, begone, it is time to looke about: away I say, what here yet villaines?

My Lord, I haue somewhat to say besides?

Then speake it, what hast thou to say?

This my Lord, when the Peeres of England and Scot­land met at Nottingham togither, to confer about the marriage of your Neese, it was straight determined that she shuld be mar­ried with the Scottish Earle. And further my Lord, the Councel commanded me to deliuer vnto your grace the treasons of Cap­tain Blunt, who had the Earle of Oxford in charge in Hames ca­stle, now are they both fled, and purposeth to ayde the Earle of Richmond against your grace. Now my Lord I take my leaue.

Messenger staie, hath Blunt betraied, doth Oxford re­bell and aide the Earle Richmond, may this be true, what is our prison so weake, our friends so fickle, our Ports so ill lookt too, that they may passe and repasse the seas at their pleasures, then euerie one conspires, spoyles our Conflex, conqueres our Ca­stles, and Armes themselues with their owne weapons vnresi­sted? O villaines, rebels, fugetiues, theeues, how are we betrayd, when our owne swoordes shall beate vs, and our owne subiects seekes the subuertion of the state, the fall of their Prince, and sack of their country, of his, nay neither must nor shall, for I will Army with my friends, and cut off my enemies, & beard them to their face that dares me, and but one, I one, one beyond the seas that troubles me: wel his power is weake, & we are strong, therfore I wil meet him with such melodie, that the singing of a bullet shal send him merily to his lōgest home. Come folow me.

But Blunt, looke whose that knocks.

Admit him straight, now shall we heare some newes.

Welcome my friend, how fares our mother & the rest?

In health my Lord, and glad to hear of your ariual safe.

My friend, my mother hath written to me of certaine that are comming in our aide, the report of whose names are re­ferd to thee to deliuer.

First, theirs the Lord Talbut, the Earle of Shreuesbury sonne and heire, with a braue band of his owne.

There is also the Lord Fitz Harbart, the Earle of Pembrookes sonne and heire.

Of the Gentlemen of the Welch, there is sir Prise vp Thomas, and sir Thomas vp Richard, & sir Owen Williams, braue gen­tlemen my Lord. These are the chiefe.

Are these the full number of all that come?

Only two more my Lord, which I haue left vnnamed, [Page] the one is sir Thomas Denis a Westerne gentleman, and ioynd with him one Arnoll Butler, a great many are willing, but dares not as yet.

Doth Arnoll Butler come, I can hardly brooke his trecherie, for hee it was that wrought my disgrace with the King.

Well my Lord, wee are now to strengthen our selues with friends, and not to reape vp olde quarrels, say that Arnoll Butler did iniurie you in the time of peace, the mendes is twise made, if he stand with you in the time of warres.

Why comes there any more?

A number more.

Why these are the villaines my Lord would haue put his life into their hands.

A Richard, now do my eyes witnesse that thy end is at hand, For thy commons make no more account of thee then of a pri­uate man, yet will I as dutie bindes, giue thee aduertisements of their vniust proceedings. My maister hath lifted out many, and yet hath left one to lift him out of all, not onely of his Crowne, but also of his life. But I will in, to tell my Lord of what is hap­pened.

Good my Lord depart, and leaue me to my selfe.

I pray my Lord, let me go along with you.

My Lord it may not be, for I haue promised my father that none shall come but my selfe, therfore good my Lord de­part.

Good my Lord haue a care of your self, I like not these night walkes and scouting abroad in the euenings so disguised, for you must not now that you are in the vsurpers dominions, and you are the onely marke he aimes at, and your last nightes absence bred such amazement in our souldiers, that they like men wanting the power to follow Armes, were on a sodaine more liker to flie then to fight: therefore good my Lorde, if I may not stand neare, let me stand aloofe off.

Content thee good Oxford, and tho I confesse my self bound to thee for thy especiall care, yet at this time I pray thee hold me excused. But farewell my Lord, heere comes my Lord and father.

Captaine I pray thee bring me word when thou doest discrie the enemy. And so farewell, and leaue me for a while.

How fares my gratious Lord and father?

In good health my sonne, & the better to see thee thus foreward in this laudable enterprise, but omitting vain circum­stances, and to come briefly to the purpose, I am now in fewe words to deliuer much matter. For know this, when I came to craue leaue of the King to depart from the court, the king verie furiously began to charge me that I was both acquainted with thy practises and drifts, and that I knew of thy landing, and by no meanes would grant me leaue to go, till as pledge of my loy­altie and true dealing with the king, I should leaue my yoong sonne George Standley. Thus haue I left my son in the hands of a tyrant, onely of purpose to come and speake with thee.

But omitting this, I pray tell me, shall I looke for your helpe in the battell?

Sonne I cannot, for as I will not goe to the vsurper, no [Page] more I will not come to thee.

Why then it is bootlesse for vs to staie, for all we pre­sumed vpon, was on your aide.

Why sonne, George Standlyes death would doo you no pleasure.

Why the time is too troublesome, for him to tend to follow execution.

O sonne, tyrants expect no time, and George Standley being yoong and a grissell, is the more easie to be made away.

This newes goes to my heart, but tis in vaine for mee to looke for victorie, when with a mole-hill, we shall encounter with a mountaine.

Why sonne, see how contrarie you are, for I assure you, the chiefest of his company are liker to flie to thee, then to fight against thee: and for me, thinke me not so simple but that I can at my pleasure flie to thee, or being with them, fight so faintly, that the battell shall be wonne on thy part with small incountring. And note this besides, that the King is now come to Lester, and means to morrow to bid thee battel in Bosworth.

Come my Lord, I do discry the enemy.

Why then sonne farewell, I can staie no longer.

Mary some twentie thousand. And so farewell.

And we hardly fiue thousand, being beset with many enemies, hoping vpon a few friends, yet dispair not Richmond, but remember thou fightest in right, to defende thy countrey from the tyrannie of an vsurping tyrant, therefore Richmond goe foreward, the more dangerous the battell is in atteining, it prooues the more honourable being obteined. Then forward Richmond, God and saint George, for me.

Frantike man, what meanst thou by this mood? Now he is come more need to beate him backe.

Sowre is his sweete that sauours thy delight, great is his power that threats thy ouerthrow.

The bad rebellion of my foe is not so much, as for to see my friends do flie in flockes from me.

May it please your grace to rest your selfe content, for you haue power inough to defend your land.

Dares Richmond set his foote on land with such a small power of stragling fugatiues?

May it please your grace to participate the cause that thus doth trouble you?

The cause Buzard, what cause should I participate to thee? My friends are gone away, and fled from me, keep silence villaine, least I by poste do send thy soule to hell, not one word more, if thou doest loue thy life.

My Lord.

Yet againe vilaine, ô Catesbie is it thou? What comes the Lord Standley or no?

My Lord, he answeres no.

Why didst not tell him then, I would send his sonne George Standleys head to him.

My Lord I did so, & he answered, he had another sonne left to make Lord Standley.

O vilaine vilde, and breaker of his oath, the bastardes ghoast shall hant him at the heeles, and crie reuenge for his vild fathers wrongs, go Louell, Catsbie, fetch George Standly forth, him with these handes will I butcher for the dead, and send his headlesse bodie to his fire.

Leaue off executions now the foe is heere that [Page] threatens vs most cruelly of our liues.

Zownes, foe mee no foes, the fathers fact condemnes the sonne to die.

But guiltlesse blood will for reuengement crie.

Why was not he left for fathers loyaltie?

Therein his father greatly iniured him.

Did not your selues in presence, see the bondes sealde and assignde?

What tho my Lord, the vardits own, the titles doth resign.

The bond is broke and I will sue the fine, except you will hinder me, what will you haue it so?

In doing true iustice, else we answere no.

His trecherous father hath neglect his word and done imparshall past by dint of sword, therefore sirrha go fetch him, Zownes draw you cuts who shall go, I bid you go Catesby. A Richard, now maist thou see thy end at hand, why sirs why fear you thus? why we are ten to one, if you seeke promotion, I am a King alreadie in possession, better able to performe then he. Louell, Catesby, lets ioyne louingly and deuoutly togither, and I will diuide my whole kingdome amongst you.

We will my Lord.

We will my Lord, a Catesbie, thou lookest like a dog, and thou Louell too, but you will runne away with them that be gone, and the diuel go with you all, God I hope, God, what talke I of God, that haue serued the diuell all this while. No, for­tune and courage for mee, and ioyne England against mee with England, Ioyne Europe with Europe, come Christendome, and with Christendome the whole world, and yet I will neuer yeeld but by death onely. By death, no die, part not childishly from thy Crowne, but come the diuell to claime it, strike him down, & tho that Fortune hath decreed, to set reuenge with triumphs on my wretched head, yet death, sweete death, my latest friend, hath sworne to make a bargaine for my lasting fame, and this, I this verie day, I hope with this lame hand of mine, to rake out that hatefull heart of Richmond, and when I haue it, to eate it panting hote with salt, and drinke his blood luke warme, tho I [Page] be sure twil poyson me. Sirs you that be resolute follow me, the rest go hang your selues.

A horse, a horse, a fresh horse.

A flie my Lord, and saue your life.

Flie villaine, looke I as tho I would flie, no first shall this dull and sencelesse ball of earth receiue my bodie cold and void of sence, you watry heauens rowle on my gloomy day, and darksome cloudes close vp my cheerfull sownde, downe is thy sunne Richard, neuer to shine againe, the birdes whose feathers should adorne my head, houers aloft & dares not come in sight, yet faint not man, for this day if Fortune will, shall make thee King possest with quiet Crown, if Fates deny, this ground must be my graue, yet golden thoughts that reached for a Crowne, danted before by Fortunes cruell spight, are come as comforts to my drooping heart, and bids me keepe my Crowne and die a King. These are my last, what more I haue to say, ile make re­port among the damned soules.

How may I know the certain true report of this vic­torious battell fought to day, my friend what ere thou beest, tel vnto mee the true report, which part hath wonne the victorie, whether the King or no?

A no, the King is slaine and he hath lost the day, and Richmond he hath wonne the field, and tryumphs like a valiant conquerer.

But who is slaine besides our Lord and soueraigne?

Slaine is the worthie Duke of Northfolke he, & with him sir Robart Brokenby, Lieftenant of the Tower, besides Louell, he made also a partner in this Tragedie.

But wheres sir William Catsby?

Hee is this day beheaded on a stage at Lester, because [Page] he tooke part with my Lord the King. But stay Report, & thou shalt heare me tell the briefe discourse. And how the battell fell then knowe Report, that Richard came to fielde mounted on horsback, with as high resolue as fierce Achillis mongst the stur­die Greekes, whom to encounter worthie Richmond, came ac­companied with many followers, and then my Lord displayde his colours straight, and with the charge of Trumpet, Drum, and Fyfe, these braue batalians straight encountred, but in the skirmish which cōtinued long, my Lord gan faint, which Rich­mond straight perceiued, and presently did sound afresh alarme, but worthie Richard that did neuer flie, but followed honour to the gates of death, straight spurd his horse to encounter with the Earle, in which encountry Richmond did preuaile, & taking Richard at aduantage, then he threw his horse and him both to the ground, and there was woorthie Richard wounded, so that after that he nere recouered strength. But to be briefe, my mai­ster would not yeeld, but with his losse of life he lost the field. Report farewell.

Now noble Peeres and woorthie country-men, since God hath giuen vs fortune of the day, let vs first giue thankes vnto his Deitie, & next with honors fitting your deserts, I must be gratefull to my country men, and woorthie Oxford for thy seruice showne in hote encountring of the enemy, Earle Rich­mond bindes himselfe in lasting bondes of faithfull loue & per­fect vnitie. Sory I am for those that I haue lost by our so dange­rous encountring with the foe, but sorow cannot bring the dead to life: and therefore are my sorrows spent in vaine. Onely to those that liue, thus much I say, I will maintain them with a ma­nuall paie. And louing father, lastly to your self, tho not the least in our expected aide, we giue more thankes for your vnlooked for aide, then we haue power on sodaine to declare, but for your thanks I hope it shall suffise that I in nature loue & honor you.

Well spoken sonne, and like a man of worth, whose resolutiō in this battell past, hath made thee famous mongst thy enemies. And thinke my son, I glory more to heare what praise the common people gaue of thee, then if the Peeres by general full consent had set me downe to weare the Diadem. Then liue my sonne thus loued of thy friends, and for thy foes prepare to combate them.

And Oxford vowes perpetuall loue to thee, wishing as many honours to Earle Richmond, as Caesar had in conquering the world, & I doubt not but if faire fortune follow thee, to see thee honoured mongst thy country men, as Hector was among the Lords of Troy, or Y [...]lley mongst the Romane Senators.

How fares our louely mother Queene?

In health Earle Richmond, glad to heare the newes that God hath giuen thee fortune of the day. But tell me Lords, where is my sonne Lord Marquesse Dorset, that he is not here? what was he murthered in this Tragedie?

No louely Queene your sonne doth liue in France, for being distrest and driuen by force of tempest to that shore, and many of our men being sicke and dead, we were inforst to aske the King for aide, as well for men as for munition, which then the King did willingly supply, prouided, that as hostage for those men, Lord Marquesse Dorset should be pledge with thē. But Madame now our troubled warre is done, Lord Marquesse Dorset shall come home againe.

Richmond, gramercies for thy kinde good newes, which is no little comfort to thy friends, to see how God hath beene thy happie guide in this late conquest of our enemies. And Richmond, as thou art returned with victorie, so we will keepe our words effectually.

Then Madame for our happie battelles victorie, first thankes to heauen, next to my foreward country-men, but Ma­dame pardon me tho I make bold to charge you with a promise that you made, which was confirmed by diuerse of the Peeres, touching the marriage of Elizabeth, and hauing ended what I promised you, Madam, I looke and hope to haue my due.

Then know my sonne, the Peeres by full consent, in that thou hast freed them from a tyrants yoke, haue by election chosen thee as King, first in regard they account thee vertuous, next, for that they hope all forraine broyles shall cease, and thou wilt guide and gouerne them in peace, then sit thou downe my sonne, and here receiue the Crowne of England as thy proper owne, sit downe.

Henry the seuenth, by the grace of God, King of Eng­land, France, and Lord of Ireland, God saue the King.

Long liue Henry the seuenth, King of England.

Thanks louing friends and my kind country-men, and here I vow in presence of you all, to root abuses from this com­mon welth, which now flowes faster then the furious tyde that ouerflowes beyond the bankes of Nile. And louing father, and my other friends, whose ready forwardnesse hath made me for­tunate, Richmond will still in honourable loue count himselfe to be at your dispose, nor do I wish to enioy a longer life, then I shall liue to thinke vpon your loue. But what saith faire Eliza­beth to vs? for now wee haue welcommed our other friends, I must bid you welcome Ladie amongst the rest, and in my wel­come craue to be resolued, how you resolue touching my profe­red loue vnto you, here your mother and the Peeres agree, and all is ended, if you condescend.

Then know my Lord, that if my mother please, I must in dutie yeeld to her command, for when our aged father left his life, he willed vs honour still our mothers age: and therefore as my dutie doth command, I do commit my selfe to her dispose.

Then here my Lord, receiue thy royall spouse, ver­tuous Elizabeth, for both the Peeres and Commons do agree, that this faire Princesse shall be wife to thee. And we pray all, [Page] that faire Elizabeth may liue for aye, and neuer yeeld to death.

And so say I, thanks [...] you all my Lords, that thus haue honoured Richmond with a Crowne, and if I liue, then make account my Lords I will deserue this with more then common loue.

Take comfort gentle father, for I hope my brother George will turne in safe to vs.

A no my sonne, for he that ioyes in blood, will worke his furie on the innocent.

But how now what noyse is this?

Behold Lord Standley we bring thy sonne, thy sonne George Standley, whom with great danger we haue saued from furie of a tyrants doome.

And liues George Standley? Then happie that I am to see him freed thus from a tyrants rage. Welcome my sonne, my sweete George welcome home.

Thanks my good father, and George Standley ioyes to see you ioynd in this assembly. And like a lambe kept by a greedie Woolfe within the inclosed sentire of the earth, expecting death without deliuerie, euen from this daunger is George Standley come, to be a guest to Richmond & the rest: for when the bloodie butcher heard your honour did refuse to come to him, hee like a sauage tygre then inraged, commanded straight I should be murdered, & sent these two to execute the deed, but they, but they, that knew how innocēt I was, did post him off with many long delayes, alleaging reasons to alaie his rage, but twas in vaine, for he like to a starued Lionesse still cal­led for blood, saying that I should die. But to be briefe, when both the battels ioyned, these two and others, shifted me away.

Thus Gentles may you heere behold, the ioyning of these Houses both in one, by this braue Prince Henry the sea­uenth, who was for wit compared to Salomon, his gouernment was vertuous euery way, and God did wonderously increase his store, he did subdue a proud rebellious Lord, that did encoun­ter him vpon blacke health. He died when he had raigned full three and twentie yeares eight moneths, and some odde dayes, and lies buried in Westminster. He died & left behind a sonne.

A sonne he left, a Harry of that name, a worthie, vali­ant, and victorious Prince, for on the fifth yeare of his happie raigne, hee entered France, and to the Frenchmens costs, hee wonne Turwen, and Turney. The Emperor serued this King for common pay, and as a mersonary prince did follow him. Then after Morle and Morles, conquered he, and still did keepe the French men at a bay. And lastly in this Kings decreasing age, he conquered Bullen, and after when he was turned home he died, when he had raigned full thirtie eight yeares, nine moneths and some odde dayes, and was buried in Windsore. He died and left three famous springs behinde him.

Edward the sixt, he did restore the Gospell to his light, and fini­shed that his father left vndone. A wise yoong Prince, giuen greatly to his booke. He brought the English seruice first in vse, and died when he had raigned six yeares, fiue moneths, & some odde dayes, and lieth buried in Westminster.

Next after him a Mary did succeede, which married [Page] Philip King of Spaine, she raigned fiue yeares, foure moneths, and some odde dayes, and is buried in Westminster. When she was dead, her sister did succeed.

Worthie Elizabeth, a mirrour in her age, by whose wise life and ciuill gouernment, her country was defended from the crueltie of famine, fire and swoord, warres, fearefull messen­gers.