THat Princes are naturally ambiti­ous, and that Ambition makes them to effect their desires, rather then to affect the equitie of their designes, may more truly then safely be auowed. For all of them, I thinke, were the record of their actions indifferent, might be taxed of this vice. But this excuse cleares not the accused; yet it testifies, that Princes erre against nature, if they aspire not. We hold (not without reason) that if the bill of the Plaintiffe bee stuffed with friuolous assertions, that the complaint fauoureth more of malice, then of wrong. Why should not the same Axiome bee a motiue to cleare this wronged Prince, whose accu­sers lay to his charge the anguish his Mother felt, when he came into the world? then which accusati­on what can be more friuolous; it being a punish­ment hereditary to all women, from the first? His being toothed, as soone as borne, seemes to me ra­ther [Page] a blessing, then any imputation, as being a pre­sage of his future worthinesse, and as all Nurses will confesse, an ease of much paine and danger. But he was crook-backt, lame, il-shapen, il-fauoured. I might impute that fault to Nature, but that I rather thinke it her bounty: for she being wholly intentiue to his minde, neglected his forme, so that shee infu­sed a straight minde in a crooked bodie, wherein shee shewed her carefull prouidence. For often­times, the care to keepe those parts well formed, with-drawes mens mindes from better actions, and drownes them in effeminate curiositie. His lame­nesse turned to his glory; for with those imperfect limmes, hee performed actions most perfectly va­liant.

How rightly his Father Rich. D. of Yorke, father of Edw. the fourth George D. of Clarence, & Rich. the third. claimed, his brother Edw. E. of March, eldest sonne of R. D. of Yorke, after K. by the name of Edw. the fourth.obtained the Scepter, is sufficiently knowne, and therefore superfluous and impertinent: and also how his brother dusked his right, (if right) by abrogating the oath, which he sware at Yorke, that his comming in armes was only for that Duke­dome. For the Duke­dome of Yorke, as his right, fro his father D. of Yorke.But to dilate how variable, and inconstant the people of those times were, shall be more neces­sary and effectuall, that knowing their inconstancie, their traditions (like themselues) may the lesse bee beleeued: so light-headed, so foolish, so irreligi­ous, as their opinion (for what else are the thoughts of Ignorance but opinion) made them breake their oath to their Prince, K. Henry the sixth. and to such a Prince as they did not shame to dislike, onely because hee was too good. Him they abandoned, depo­sed, after restored; not as desiring, (being guilty of their owne fault) but onely that it stood with the [Page] liking of Warwicke the child of their loue. Rich. Neuile Earle of War­wick, sirnamed the King-maker If then they were such, (as indeede they were) and that those relations wee haue, must come from that people, it were better (I thinke) to bury their tra­ditions, then refute their obiections, were not our age, apt to erre, infected with this folly.

For his brother K. Edward: K. Edward the fourth. though his vices seem not to adde vertues to this condemned Prince, yet questionlesse they doe; making all his ill-estima­ted actions of an other nature. Hee obtained the Crowne, but rather fortunately, then wisely, were not all wisedome thought folly, to which Fortune lends not successe. For I thinke, Lust, or if you will terme it Loue, could not more haue preuailed with the most licencious creature, then at once to breake the bonds of amity, discretion and policy; and all to enioy a woman, in respect of his heighth, base: a widow, Lady Eliz. Gray, widow of Sir Iohn Gray Knight, after­ward married to K. Edward the fourth. and of his enemy, without bringing him either alliance, or riches; proppes most pertinent to his new-erected buildings. Wherein, besides his breach of regall discretion, with his chiefest friend the Earle of Warwick, whom he had sent into France, to treate of marriage betweene him and the Lady Bona, Lady Bona, Neece to the French King Lewes the ele­uenth, & daugh­ter to Lewes D. of Sauoy. (wherein being deluded, hee became his mortallest enemie) his abuse to God was more abominable; being before betrothed (as his owne mother constantly affirmed) to the Lady Elizabeth Lucy: in testimony whereof hee had layde such earnest, For he had got her with child. as should haue bound any common man, much more a King, to performance. How soone the wrath of God followed this his irreligi­ous inconstancie, his being driuen from the Seate-Royall into exile; the birth of his sonne in a Sanctu­ary; [Page] (hauing no place else of freedome in his Fa­thers kingdome) the miserie of all his partakers sufficiently testifie. In which generall misery, who did more truely follow him? Who more faithful­ly ayded him, then his now disgraced Brother? Whereas his other Brother George D. of Clarence, secōd brother of K. Ed. the 4. Clarence not onely left him, but ioyned in marriage Hee married Isabell, daugh­ter of Richard Neuill Earle of Warwicke. with the daugh­ter of his principall enemie, and holpe to expulse him: with what loue, what constancy, his indea­uours, his aduenturing his life to restore him, doth witnesse.

Neuer was he noted all the life of K. Edward, to thirst after the Kingdome; neuer denyed hee any commandement of his Prince, but performed all his employments discreetly, valiantly, successfully. The suspition of helping his Brother Clarence to He was drowned in a Malm­sey butt in the Tower. his end, was but a suspition, since the kings old dis­pleasure awaked by a new Prophesie, was vndoubt­tedly the cause; if otherwise (when he after repen­ted him) hee would haue misliked of Gloucester, it being naturall to sinne; but vnnaturall, to ease o­thers of their crimes. For the killing of the Heire of the house of Lancaster at Tewksburie, Edw. Prince of Wales, sonne of K. Henrie the 6. slaine af­ter the battaile of Tewksbury. (if so) seemes to mee, rather the effect of loue to his Bro­ther, then crueltie to the Prince: for he was an ene­mie, yea, the chiefe and principall enemie of the contrarie faction. Yet it cannot be proued the acti­on of Richard, but that it was an act wished by the King to be done, and executed in both their presen­ces, by the Duke of Clarence, the Marquesse Dorset, the Lord Hastings and others.

The death of Henrie The death of Henrie the 6 in the Tower. the 6. in the Tower, can no way belong to him, since the same reason that [Page] cleareth his Brother, fitteth him; hee being able, if desiring his death, to haue effected it by a more vn­worthy hand. And indeed this accusation hath no other proofe, then a malicious affirmation. For ma­ny (more truely) did suppose that hee dyed of meere melancholie and griefe, when he had heard of the ouerthrow of his friends, and slaughter of his sonne. But if it were true, though it spots him with bloud, yet it confirmes his loue to his Prince; which loue was so coldly requited, as might haue mooued a true louer of Rewards more then of Ver­tue, to haue altered his indeauors, whether it were a iealousie of the Nobilitie of his blood, or of the height of his spirit, whether the abundance of affection to bee led by a woman, or that hee was defectiue in all brotherly affection, certaine it is, he rather imployed him, then rewarded his imploy­ments. Contrary, the Queenes kindred, daylie to rise, meerely without desert, but that they were of her kindred; and their basenesse being thus sudden­ly exalted, not only to plucke from him promotions, due to his deserts, but to enuie the Duke, and con­tend with him; how insupportable it must be to so magnanimous a spirit, whose memorie beare wit­nesse of their vnworthinesse, his owne worth, any like spirit may imagine.

Thus continued this vnequall contention, vntill the King, sent for before the great The death of K. Ed. the 4. King of Kings, to make an account of his greatnes, left his body, to testifie the worlds folly in contending for Worlds, when one little part of the earth must contain them. King Edward Prince of Wales son to K. Ed. the 4. His successor at that time very yong, was wholy pos­sessed by the mothers bloud, whom the Richard D. of Gloucester made Protector. now Pro­tector [Page] had great reason to feare, being euer his mor­tall enemie, and now most strong, by being most neerely allied to this Prince: Therefore iealous of his own preseruation, of the safety of the Common­weale, and of the ancient Nobilitie, with great rea­son and iustice hee executed them, whom, if he had suffered to liue, were likely enough to haue beene the destruction of him, it, and them. But the deed accomplished, stirred vp no little feare in the Queen-Mother, and her faction: For the Queenes taking Sanctuarie with her younger sonne Richard D. of Yorke, younger son of Edward the 4. Richard Duke of Yorke, without any cause that hee knew, draue Gloucester to suppose that they doubted of their right, and put him in possibility of obtaining his owne: wherein by ambitious Hen. Stafford D. of Bucking­ham. Buckingham he was assisted, who then related to him afresh the vnlaw­full Marriage of his Brother, that being vnlawfull, consequently his children were bastards, and so vn­doubtedly the Crowne was lawfully his; to which discourse hee annexed protestations of furtherance. Though perhaps an earthly spirit would not haue beene mooued with these motiues, but rather haue desired safety, then Soueraignty: yet in a true He­roick spirit, whose affect is aspiring, they could not but be imbraced, vsing the wings of Time, to bring him to that height. Be not obstinate (Mortalitie) against this climing Axiome, for hourely you com­mit worser errors, more groueling, more base. Were it not common, euery dayes issue, it were admirable to note the impudencie of man, who at this instant condemnes actions, which himselfe would instantly accomplish, were he permitted by occasion. The Queene-Mothers feare, his owne right, Buckinghams [Page] ayd, and his owne iealousie to erect a Prince, too young to gouerne himselfe, much lesse others, but was likely to bee gouerned by his Mother, and her kindred, the Protectors mortallest enemies, men of meane birth, not inured to gouernment, such as were likely to destroy the ancient Peeres, to fortifie their new Nobility, could not but draw a true discerning spirit, to fauour himselfe, to protect the ancient No­bilitie, to defend the people from being wasted, and oppressed by the ambition and tyrannie of new vn­experienced Statists, and to respect his owne preser­uation, rather then others. For well hee saw hee could not liue, vnlesse hee were a King; that there was no safety, but in Soueraigntie. Should I put thee in choyce (condemning Reader) whether thou wouldest not be, rather then be a King; thou woul­dest perhaps answere no: but that answere should proceede, rather from the knowledge of thy want of power to Royallize thee, then through the abun­dance of thy modestie. No, no, it is a desire befit­ting the most worthie desirer; and were all mens affections so high, their actions would not proue so vnwor-thy.

The State being thus in labour with Innouation, the Peeres in counsaile about their Infant Kings Co­ronation, all busie, yet dissenting in their businesse; in a Councell holden at the Tower, Hastings Lord Wil. L. Hast­ings, Chamber­laine to Edward the 4.Chamberlaine was apprehended, and no sooner apprehended, but executed. The not leisurely pro­ceeding by forme of Law, may seeme to pleade Hastings innocencie, the Pretectors crueltie. But they that consider the nature of the people of that time, apt to sedition, greedy of innouation, and likely to [Page] be glad of so pittiful a color (for Hastings was a man growne very popular) will hold the Protector in that action very iudiciall, and, if guilty of any thing, of discretion, and policie: But could Hastings be in­nocent, whom Phil. de Cō ­mines, Lord of Argenton in his Historie. Cōmines reporteth to be a Pensio­ner of the French King, Lewis the 11. the onely sub­till Prince of that time? he, of all others, that most affected tyrannie, and was naturally the mortall e­nemy of this kingdome. Or was he fit to be a States­man or Counsailor, who beeing corrupted by the bribes of an enemie, had disswaded his Master, the late King Edward the 4. from assisting the oppressed Lady Mary sole daughter and heire of Charles D. of Burgūdy, after married to Maximilian the Emperour. the heire of Burgundie, against Lewes the French King, whereby that Lady was driuen to seek ayd elsewhere, who, otherwise, was likely to haue married with the Duke of Clarence, or some other English Prince, and so to haue vnited that Duke­dome to this Crowne, to the eternall benefit and security of both Countries; who gloried in his pri­uate reuenges, who not onely enticed his Master, but accompanied him in all sensuality: who in the deflowring of mens wiues, Shores wife. and such other his vn­princelike actions, was his perpetuall attendant, and sometimes (as it is thought) would begin to him? Doct. Shaes Sermon at Pauls Crosse.Doctor Shaes Sermon not a little illustrates the malice of his accusers: For I thinke, no man that is discreet, will imagine this Prince so indiscreet, as to haue witnesse that he commanded that Sermon, and gaue instructions what should bee said: Then how do our Chroniclers report it for truth, were not their malice greater then either their truth, or their iudgement? But they are Historians, and must be beleeued.

[Page] Alas, poore men, how would they be beleeued, whose greatest authorities (as a learned and honou­rable Knight writeth) are built vpon the notable foundation of heare-say? Sir Philip Sid­ney in his de­fence of Poetry. men that haue much aide to accord differing writers, and to picke truth out of partiality. But it is not mentioned, that Shaw euer executed this action, with alleaging him to be the cause. It is likely indeed, that Shaw being ambiti­ous, gaping after preferment, supposing some such intent in the Protector (as hee had a reaching head) was bold to set his Rethoricke to sale, to publish his fancies: but seeing his hopes vanish into smoke, and his expectation deluded, seeing the Protector neither rewarded, nor regarded his Rhethorick, he soone af­ter languished and dyed: a iust example to teach Theologians so boldly to intermeddle with Princes affaires, before they be commanded: for (doubtlesse) had the Protector set him a worke, hee would haue payed him his hire. But if it were so, that he com­maunded the Sermon (as that is yet vnproued) was that an offence to make the people so publikely par­takers of his right; yea, to prostitute his cause to their iudgements? for charging his Mother with a­dulterie, was a matter of no such great moment, since it is no wonder in that sexe: And surely he had more reason to aduenture her fame, then his King­dome, because of two euils it is wisedome to chose the least. If it were true, it was no iniustice to pub­lish it; and what could be expected from his, but true Iustice, who was so impartiall, that hee would not spare his owne mother? if vntrue; good faith, he was therein too blame, and her innocencie the more meritorious; but certaine it is, the people ap­proued [Page] his right: for he was crowned The Coronati­on of K. Richard the third. with such consent, and so great applause both of Peeres and people, that if we will iudge by the outward behaui­our (the onely marke our iudgements may or can leuell at) we must determine them so contented, as no actions which might testifie the satisfaction of their mindes, were omttted: surely, if euer the vniu­diciall multitude did any thing iudicially, it was in receiuing this Prince, whom his chiefe disgracers cannot but acknowledge for valiant; then who was more meet to restraine domesticke, to subdue for­raine seditions? For these ciuill dissensions had al­most wasted and made desolate this populous Nati­on: discreete hee was and temperate, (two so rare and excellent qualities, as hee that truly possesseth them, meriteth the possession of a Diademe:) for in these vertues, ioyned with that Cardinall vertue For­titude (wherof also he had a very large portion) con­sisteth the soule of Soueraignty, which whosoeuer wanteth (be he a while neuer so powerfull) his owne greatnesse so crusheth him, that he forfeiteth all in a moment: most liberall he was, desiring rather to want, then to suffer worth vnrewarded: and this li­beralitie is the onely true Nurse, and fosterer of ver­tue; vertue vnrewarded being vnsensible, our flesh being gouerned, aduised, yea mastered by our sen­ses: this worthy, this Princely ornament some ca­lumniators haue sought in him to deface, allea­ging; that his liberality to some, proceeded from his extortion from others: but euen those cannot de­ny him to haue been politicke and wise; then is it likely that a Prince of his wisedome and policie, could not discerne betweene the worthy and vnwor­thy? [Page] And to take from vndeseruers, to bestowe vp­on deseruers, must bee acknowledged a Vertue.

He was neither luxurious, nor an Epicure, not gi­uen to any riot, nor to excesse, neither in apparell, nor play: for had he been touched with any of these vices, doubtlesse they which obiect lesser crimes, would not haue omitted these: then (without que­stion) hee was largely interessed in vertues, (their contraries) but those (through malice) are either not registred, or (if registred) so infamed, as if all his ver­tues had a vicious intent: yet to acknowledge the vertues of the vicious, is such a right, that what Hi­storian willingly omitteth them, therein becom­meth vicious himselfe. But in all that I haue hither­to among tee vulgar obserued: ‘Calpatur factum, non ob alaud, quam exitum:’ they approue, or disproue all things by the euent; which though sometimes it proueth like the cause, yet it is more often gouerned by the will of the di­uine prouidence. And surely, but that the gracious goodnesse of God, to manifest the weaknesse of hu­mane policy, ouerthrew his designes, tooke from him his Kingdome; and contrary either to mans hope, or our merit, vnited by a blessed and happy coniunction The two dis­senting factions of Yorke and Lancaster, vni­ted by the mari­age of Henry the seuenth to Eliz. eldest daughter to Edw. the fourth. the two dissenting factions, to the true establishing of sweete peace and prosperity of this desolate kingdome: for, otherwise, had he liued to haue left Issue to haue succeeded him, such might haue beene his and their merits, that Fame would haue been no more iniurious to him, then to his Predecessors, the fourth Henry and Edward, whose reignes were polluted with much more royal bloud: for he omitted nothing, that in wisedome, or true [Page] policie might secure himselfe, or establish peace, or good lawes in this Kingdome.

His Statutes are extant; what can be found in them not becomming a King? what, not befitting the seruice of God? the worship of Religion? the good of his Countrie? yea, I haue heard of some, accounted both good Lawyers, and good Statists; that in those three yeares of his gouernment, there were more good Statutes for the weale-publike inacted, then in 30. yeares before. He was no taxer of the people, no oppressor of the Cōmons, though he came to manage an Estate, whose treasure was exceedingly exhausted; no suppressor of his sub­iects, to satisfie either licentious humors, or to inrich light-headed flatterers. But (alas) who robbes ver­tue, but ingratitude, detraction, and malice? what a curse is it to Mortalitie, that no fashion of life, no merits, no regards can free Princes from discon­tentments in their life, and infamy after death? who is it that heares of any one so endued, so loden with vertues, that iudgeth him not happy? yet he is defamed; and by whom? euen by those, for whom hee cared, laboured, and omitted nothing that might profit, committed nothing that might preiudice them.

This, the charge and commandement that hee gaue presently after his coronation, to the Lords and Gentlemen (whom hee sent home into their Countries) that they should in their Countries▪ see Iustice duly administred and impartially, (that no wrong, nor extortion should bee done to his sub­iects) doth testifie; this, his lawes, and all his acti­ons approue: yet neither the care of his Country, [Page] his lawes, nor actions, are thought to be sufficient to pleade his equity and innocency: for malicious credulitie rather embraceth the partiall writings of indiscreet Chroniclers, and witty Play-makers, then his lawes, and actions, the most innocent, and im­partiall witnesses.

It is laid to his charge (as a maine obiection) that hee was ambitious, let vs examine the truth of this accusation. Was he ambitious, who was onely content with the limits of his own Countrey, who sought to bee rather famous for instituting of good Lawes, then for atchieuing great conquests? No, no, he wanted nothing to make him an accom­plished Prince, but that hee was not ambitious e­nough: for had hee imitated that worthie King Henrie the 5. who, in a like vnsettled estate, led out the Nobility and people, to make warres vpon for­raine enemies, to make conquest of France, and to embrue their Warlike swords (lately bloudied a­gainst one another) in the bloud and bowels of strangers: he might (perhaps) haue had a fortunate successe: For he wanted not the like title, he was no lesse valiant, no lesse politicke. So might hee haue re-conquered that kingdome, and those Territories, which by the pusillanimity of some of his Prede­cessors were giuen away, and lost, & (peraduenture) so busied the stirring heads of the Nobility and people, that they should haue had no leysure to thinke vpon any Innouation or part-taking at home: so might he happily haue secured himselfe, and in­larged the bounds of his conquests beyond any of his Ancestors. What lets or obstacles could hin­der him from those glorious enterprises? His Sub­iects [Page] were warlike, trained vp in armes; somewhat too much exercised in bloud, because it was in their owne. His neighbours, the French, were gouerned by Lewes the 11. a king, who had some policie, but so little va­lour, that he would rather yeild to any Capitulation, then heare the sound of an aduersarie Drumme. So that his people, being vnured to warres, were easily to be conquered by that Nation, which had so often beaten them in the height of their daring.

The Scots, their colleagues, he had already been victorious ouer: his name among them was grown terrible. For in the time of his Brother hee wanne from them many Castles, and Holds. But princi­pally he conquered Barwick won from the Scots by Richard the third. Barwik, the chiefe and princi­pall Towne vpon their frontiers a piece of speciall importance, either to make easie our entrance into that kingdome, or to keep them from inuading ours: so that I cannot iustly accuse him of any crime so much, as that his ambition stretched not farre e­nough. To iustifie his aduersaries accusation, in this time chanced the death of his two young The death of Prince Edward, & Richard D. of Yorke in the Tower, Nephewes in the Tower, whose deaths promising quiet to him, and wholly imposed vpon him, how truely, I haue reason to doubt; because his accusers are so violent, and impudent, that those vertues (which in other men are imbraced, for which they are esteemed as Gods) they impute to him rather to be enamellers of vices, then really vertues: His Humility they terme secret pride: his Liberality, Prodigality: his Valour, crueltie and bloudthirsti­nesse: yet in these dayes, their partiall opinions are thought to be of validitie sufficient, to make proofe of any imputation: But if it were so, that their [Page] deaths were by him contriued, and commanded, the offence was to God, not to the people: for the depriuing them of their liues, freed the people from dissension. And how could hee demonstrate his loue more amply, then to aduenture his soule for their quiet? But who knoweth, whether it were not Gods secret iudgement, to punish the Fathers trans­gression in the children? and if it be so, complaine of their Fate, not Richards crueltie: (for in these fatall things it fals out, that the High-working pow­ers, make second causes vnwittingly accessarie to their determinations) yet, in policie, Princes neuer account Competitors (how young soeuer) inno­cent, since the least colour of right prouokes inno­uating humours to stirre vp sedition, which (once kindled) threatens the subuersion, both of Princes and Subiects.

And if some wise, and politike Princes haue imprisoned, and put to death, such as haue been re­puted their heires and successors, because some facti­ous heads, (weary of good gouernment, and ho­ping for authority by alteration) haue sought to e­stablish them before their times; (as commonly, giddy-brained people doe more reuerence the Suns rising, then his fall) had not King Richard great reason to depriue them of their liues, who were not to succeede him, (but in many mens iudgements) had most right to bee invested before him with the Diademe? And (indeed) the remoouing such oc­casions of ciuill warres in a well-ruled Common­wealth, is most profitable, most commendable; be­ing no crueltie, but pitty, a iealousie of their sub­iects, and a zealous regard of their owne safeties. [Page] And (indeed) if we duely consider, how much the duty we owe to a Countrey, exceedes all other du­ties, since in it self it containes them all, that for the respect thereof, not onely all tender respects of kin­dred, or whatsoeuer other respects of friendship, are to be layd aside; but that euen long-held opinions, (rather grounded vpon a secret of gouernment, then any ground of truth) are to be forsaken: since the end, whereto any thing is directed, is euer to be of more noble reckoning, then the thing thereto di­rected; that therefore the weale publike is more to be regarded, then any person or Magistrate that thereunto is ordained, the feeling consideration hereof moued King Richard, to let principally be­fore his eyes the good estate of so many thousands, ouer whom he had reigned, rather then so to hood­winke himselfe with affection, as to suffer his Realm to run to manifest ruine.

If any man shall obiect, that his course was strange, and vnlawfull: let him know, that new ne­cessities, require new remedies; and for him there was no remedie, but this one. Then if for this acti­on hee ought to be condemned, it is for indiscretion in the managing; for as safely might hee haue had the Realmes generall consent, in disposing of their liues, as of their kingdome. Had hee held a secret execution best, hee might haue effected it more se­cretly: but hee rather chose a middle way, content to let the people know it, holding their knowledge equall with their consents: And it should seeme, the people, (though they were at that time very factious) yet approued thereof: for wee find not that in any action, either inward or outward, they [Page] shewed any dislike. And (truely) such is the dif­ference between the thoughts, the actions, the dis­positions of Princes and Subiects, that I hold no subiect sufficiently iudiciall, to censure them: their courses so vnlike, that what is meete, expedient in a Prince, in a lower fortune is vtterly vnmeete, vnex­pedient. Therefore let no seruile condition aduen­ture to condemne them, since all such eyes lose their facultie, if they but gaze against the Sunne of Ma­iestie. It is sufficient for vs to know how to obey; this Nature commandeth and exacteth of vs: but to search into the actions of our Commanders, di­lates more curiosity, then honestie: Nay, though we would, we cannot: for our knowledge extends to things equall, or inferiour; those aboue vs, in diui­nity, are comprehended onely by faith; in terrene matters (if superating our estates) they are onely snatched at by supposition. And this our Lawes approue, which appoint euery man to bee tried by his Peeres; shall then the head, the director of ciuill policie, the anointed Maiestie of a King, be barred from the right, allowed to subiects? No (surely) it is preposterous, most vnlawfull to condemne a king, if not found faulty by a A King not to bee condemned, but by a lury of Kings. Iury of Kings. Were man in his innocencie, this aduice were not lost: but beeing nousled in misusing of his malicious tongue, euer to condemne others, neuer to a­mend themselues, it is (as they will be for their abuse) perpetually lost; No more then for them.

Let vs yet further cleare this wronged Prince: It is constantly affirmed (say our Croniclers) that hee first noysed, after, contriued the death of [Page] his wife: Anne Wife of K. Richard the 3. daughter of Ri. Neuill E. of War. & wid­dow of Prince Edward, son to Henry the 6. and that it was bruited, before it was effected, thereby with her sorrowes to confirme the report. This euidence they adiudge pregnant, and effectuall enough to condemne him: did Fame neuer lye? What are more generally receiued for vntruths, then flying reports, seeing no creature sensible will giue credit to Fame, or take her word, without a surety, whom they may assuredly know to bee credible? But constantly (say our Croniclers) could their words bee so constant, whose actions were the very stage of inconstancie, who opposed, deposed kings at their pleasure, and (to make sure to be no worse then they were) swore allegeance to two To Henry the 6. and Edward the 4. Princes at once, and with both broke theif Othes? But I will spend no more time, in prouing the vanitie of these Croniclers, since their owne pen contradicts it selfe; first, shewing the affections of this people to be mutinous, and after, approuing them: for certaine it is (but vncertaine, that the King caused it) that such a rumour there was, and that it made a great impression in the Queene, dee­ming (as women are euer fearefull) this propheti­call relation to be the forerunner of her end: which bewailing to her husband, hee fought with all kind­nesse to remoue that melancholy fantasie. What more could hee doe to testifie his loue, to cure her passions? But how absurd is it to thinke or imagine, that the king contriued her death? Where, if hee had pleased to marry elsewhere (for that is made the cause) hee might and would haue vsed a more safe meanes by a diuorce; did not the French king Lewes the 12. (because The wife, frō whome hee was diuorced, was Ioane, daugh­ter of Lewes the 12. sister of Charles the 8. Ga [...]. Iab. 4. his wife was barren, and crooked backt) sue a diuorce, and obtained it from [Page] Pope Alexander the sixt, and afterward by his dis­pensation married with Anne Dutchesse of Brittaine, the widdow of his predecessor Charles the 8? Might not King Richard haue done the like: for he had the like cause (his wife being barren) whereof hee had often complained to Rotheram then Archbishop of Yorke? And the Popes of those times were not so nice conscienced to deny Princes such requests, but were easily wonne thereunto, either by fauour, or re­wards: therefore, that he contriued her death, was a slanderous, false and absurd accusation; but her The death of Anne wife of Richard the 3 and secōd daughter of Richard Neuill Earle of Warwicke.time was come, which Mortalitie might sorrow, but sorrow might not preuent, Death beeing deafe to all humane lamentations.

After her death, being desirous to reconcile him­selfe to all such, as held themselues offended (as at his Coronation hee had done with Fogg a meane Attourny, who had highly offended him) he labou­red to win the one sort with benefits and rewards, and freely pardoned the others misbehauiors and offences: hee had no cause to feare Fogg, therefore feare was not the cause. No, it was a worthy, a kingly humility, that would rather abate of his great­nesse, then to haue it stained with the bloud of so meane a vassaile, for a crime committed against himselfe, yet was hee guilty of counterfeiting his Royall hand and Signet, and of a most vntrue and infamous libell: therefore how falsely do our Croni­clers seeke to cleare Collingborne, who was (as may appeare by his inditement Collingborn executed for Treason, not li­belling. executed for treason against the state, not for that ryming, foolish, ridi­culous libell? for neither they, nor any other can e­uer prooue, that euer he reuenged any iniury what­soeuer [Page] committed particularly against himselfe. For the good and safety of his kingdome and people, he was zealous, hee was feruent: for, onely for their peace, for their quiet, hee was content to suffer his neerest kinsmen, his dearest friends to be executed; so now with the mother Queene he laboured recon­ciliation, he often solicited it, at the last he effected it: This rare, this excellent worke of Christianity, this true cognisance of a Religious Queene, our Chro­niclers defame, and impute it to her as an horrible crime: such is the obstinate errour of mankinde, that, when hatred is by God absolutely prohibited, they dare say and maintaine the contrary: but (were not they thus corrupt, partiall, gouerned wholly by affection, not truth;) their Histories would be the wisest guides, making men that are young in yeeres, olde in iudgement, making experience most pre­cious) most cheape: For Knowledge, Iudgement, and Experience are dearely purchased, when wee must wander into infinite errours, ere we can be perfect in our way; nay, they were most deare, were they had with no other expence, but growing old before we enioy them, waxing rotten, ere they grow ripe. The end and scope of this reconciliation was, to vnite himselfe in marriage with his The Lady Eli­zabeth eldest daughter to Edw. the fourth, after wife to Henry the se­uenth. Neece: a contract (no doubt) inconuenient, and prohibited the Vulgar; but amongst States-men it is like to pro­duce infinite good, both to Prince and people. It is an incōuenience, most conuenient, nothing strange, because vsuall, and accustomed amongst Princes: tolerated, yea allowed by their receiued Oracle of di­uinity; the Pope, who considering the cause, ordinari­ly dispenseth with the Consanguinity. It is granted [Page] that this desire of marriage was mentioned by this King, in respect of the publike peace; to make satis­faction to the Mother, in exalting the daughter, for the deiecting of the Sonnes, and to auoid the effu­sion of much of the peoples bloud, which was likely to be spilt, if his Neece should marry elsewhere: as if (sayour Chroniclers) the first could not be established, the latter auoided without this Platforme of Policie; No, had not Gods secret working bin beyond mans wisest apprehension, it could not: for well he knew the head-strong obstinacy of this people could hard­ly be kept in awe by a man, therfore impossible to be restrained by childrē: this made him dispossesse them of their Kingdom, & (peraduenture) of their liues: for had they been suffered to liue, they would euer haue bin the fire-brands of new seditions; and ther­fore he thought it more conuenient, they should be quenched with their owne blouds, then with the blouds of infinit numbers of the people; yet to make satisfaction for this wrong, (if it were a wrong to de­priue the disturbers of the common good) hee was contented and much laboured to marry their Sister, his Neece: but he is therefore adiudged ill: why? because his accusers would be reputed good, though (without doubt) he was a good Prince, and they all, or the most part of all, euill, phantasticke, and sedi­tious people. And euen at this day, though the for­tunate & succesfull gouernment of our later Princes, hath somwhat altered their natures, & bettered their conditions; yet it were a lesse difficult quest to finde one good man, then many. But it pleased not the di­uine Ordainer of marriage to permit that coniuncti­on, but rather to set a Period at once to his kingdome and life.

[Page] About the time of the plotting of this mariage, the iudiciall Buckingham, (not thinking himselfe suffici­ently regarded) grew discontent, and got the Prin­ces fauour to retire himself into the Country; where (no doubt) his fantastick melancholly would soone haue vanished (being a man more happy in the inhe­ritance of his Father, then in the legacie of Nature, discretion, or iudgement) had not the Prisoner cor­rupted the Iaylour: namely, This Moretō was after in the reigne of Henry the seuenth Archbishop of Canterbury, Car­dinall and Lord Chancellor of England. Moreton, Bishop of Ely (committed by King Richard to his custodie) who finding this Duke discontented, more desirous to inflame his griefes, then to redresse them, with his fiery wit so wrought vpon the Dukes combustible matter, that suddenly he brought him to kindle a fire of rebellion, and to take vp armes against his Soue­raigne: this K. Richard soone hearing, he prosecu­ted him as an enemy, and so laboured (what by his owne wisedome, what by his especials) that within a while he tooke his head from The death of Henry Stafford D. of Bucking­ham beheaded at Shrewsbury. his body, for being no better able to aduise him in his proceedings: was it a fault to punish periury in him, who had sworne true allegeance? then the executing of law is a sin; if so, let transgressors be accounted innocent, and Magistrates and Iudges guilty of transgression. And had this been the action of some other Prince, it had been good, iust, necessary; but being his, it is censu­red the contrary: so that sinne is not sinne, nor ver­tue accounted vertue, by their owne natures or ef­fects, but are made vertues or vices, by the loue or hate that is borne to the committer: such is our hu­mane vnderstanding, as they rather confound all things, then by distinguishing them to make choice of the worthiest; for let a Noble-man be popular, if [Page] he haue an ill face, it is termed warlike, his drun­kennesse is termed good fellowship, his slouenliness, humility, his prodigality, liberality; thus is vertue suppressed, and forced with her own titles to adome her mortallest aduersaries. But, to returne to our de­famed King had not his mercy exceeded his cruelty, his safety had been better secured, and his name not so much subiect to obloquy: for though he cut off the head of a mighty Conspirator, yet he suffered the conspiracie to take so deepe root, that (in the end) the branches thereof ouertopped his glory, and o­uershadowed his greatnesse. Margaret Countesse of Richmond, wife of Thomas [...]. Stanley, mo­ther of K. Hen­ry the seuenth. For the Countesse of Richmond labouring in her sonnes right, daily enticed and inueigled many to be of her faction: to streng, then which the more, it was plotted betweene the two Mothers, to ioyne Q. Elizabeth mother to Eli­zabeth, eldest daughter of Edward the fourth, and Marg. Coun. of Rich. mother to Henry the seuenth, after King. the two dissenting houses in vnitie, by Yorke and Iancaster. a marriage. This practice the King well knew; yet mercy, loue, lenity so preuailed with him, that hee onely sought to preuent that coniunction, by vniting his brothers daughter with himselfe, and inflicted no other punishment on the Countesse, but onely the committing of her to the custody of her Tho. L. Stan­ly, after by Hen. the seuenth cre­ated E. of Darby. Husband. Would a cruell bloud-thirsty Prince haue done so? could any thing haue been performed with more mildnesse and lenity? could he do lesse then let her vnderstand, that hee knew her secretest practises? Surely, if hee were an Vsurper (as that he could not be now, standing after the death of his Nephewes in the same ranke, that Edward the fourth his brother did) yet his equity in iustice, his mercy in pardoning offendors, his care of Religion, his prouidence for the safety of the peo­ple, should and ought to haue tempered the bitter­nesse [Page] of his most malicious enemies, with no lesse mercifull gentlenesse he vsed her husband, (and that) at such time as her sonne was already landed, and made claime to the kingdome: for hee onely tooke his sonne George Lord Strange, son & heire to Tho. L. Stanley. the Lord Strange as an hostage, and then suffered him to go into the Country to leuie his forces: so farre was he from bloud and cruelty, as, though he knew his alliance to the contrary faction, a motiue, sufficient to make him (as indeed hee did) incline to their ayd, though hee might iustly suspect him, and could not haue wanted colour to haue beheaded him (as being father-in-law to his Competitor) yet he only detained his sonne in his Campe; and when hee had assured notice of his Fathers disloyall reuolt, yet he suffered the Hostage of his loyalty to liue: an euidence effectuall enough to testifie, that he desired rather to settle, then to o­uerthrow the quiet of this Land; that he laboured to win the hearts of his subiects, rather with meeke­nesse then cruelty; what Prince could haue done lesse? Nay, what King would not haue done more? since both the effect, and the present feare, are both such inward tormentors, that it is hard to determine which is most grieuous: so opposite, so contrary to the nature of a Prince (borne, not to feare, but to be feared) that it is most iust, most naturall, to remoue such a terrour; but now Henry the 7. the Heire of Lancaster be­ing come to challenge the Crowne, what did the King? Did his spirits faile him? Was his magna­nimous courage daunted? No, he then gathered new spirit, he new steeled his courage, he withstood him with the height of fortitude; protesting rather to dye valiantly, then to liue lesse then a King. With [Page] what a Roman-like spirit did he resist fortune? being ouerthrowne, how Heroically did he encounter with death? This our detracting Chroniclers cannot but acknowledge: for so high, so powerful was his mag­nanimity, that (in spight of malice) it preuaileth, and (like the Sunne) breaketh thorow the misty clouds of his aduersaries slaunders: was it a fault to with­stand the Lancastrian heires claime? then those are faulty, who being in possession of lands, to proue good their title, prosecute suites, and are ouerthrown by the lawe: for the sentence of iudgement makes them to perceiue that to be an errour, which before they imagined none. Besides, he knew well, that his kingdome & life had both one period, to which life he was perswaded his Competitor had no right, and therefore he would neuer be guilty of such a sinne (as wilfully to betray it) till he which had lent it him re­quired repayment.

Had his life, his actions been most abominable; yet (like a slaue) to haue yeelded his throate to the execution, would haue been an imputation beyond all other imputations: but could he as openly haue manifested his other vertues, as he did his valor and policy, the worlds opinion had been otherwise, and I neither had taken such paines to defend his inno­cency, nor in some weake iudgements to endanger mine owne. But surely he did couragiously and va­liantly withstand his enemies, with great expedition rallying his forces, and performing all things with wonderfull celerity, he went to encounter the distur­bers of his quiet.

It is reported, that, the night before the day of battaile, he dreamed a most K. Rich. dream the night before the battaile of Bosworth. dreadfull and horrible [Page] dreame, which by our Chroniclers is interpreted to be a testimony of his wicked and tyrannous life. Did not Caesar, Plutarch is the life of Cae­sar, Dion and Brutus. before he attained the Empire, dreame that he knew his owne Mother carnally? had not both Dion and Brutus the figures of terrible spirits represented vnto them, the night before their end? and yet these were reputed good men, and louers and protectors of their Countrie; and because king Richard dreamed with some terrour, must his life of necessitie be euill? O vaine! O friuolous obiection! but they hold this dreame to be a compunction of his conscience: happy Prince to haue so indiscreete slaunderers; for how could they more truly witnesse his integrity? since onely they which reuerence and feare God, are indued with that inquiring consci­ence, which censureth their actions: for they which are giuen ouer to a reprobate sence, are insensible of that good Angell, which seeketh by telling vs our faults, to make vs repent our sinnes past, and to bee wary, lest we commit any more.

Surely, I thinke, his conscience (like a glasse) pre­sented before him the figures of all his actions; which he faithfully examining, humbly craued par­don for his misdeeds: and so hauing made atone­ment with God, like a deuout Penitentiary setled his minde, he went with alacrity to the bloudy Court, where the cause of his life was to be tryed: where his sword being his Aduocate, pleaded most vali­antly. In all which tumult, he failed neither in dis­cretion, nor in execution, but boldly encouraged his Souldiers, both by word and example.

There is extant in our Chronicles, an The Oration of K. Richard. Holliniheds [...] in the end [...]. Oration, which at that time he made to his Souldiers, where­in [Page] he confesseth his errors, and desireth pardon of all the world, as he hoped his repentant teares had ob­tained mercy of God.

What a Saint-like thing was this, for a King, to craue forgiuenesse of subiects? for a Generall, to humble himselfe to his Souldiers? What could it be but the effect of a more diuine, then terrene vnder­standing? If (like the common fashion of men) he would haue put his affiance in humane assistance, and neglected his God, he might (in common rea­son) haue promised himselfe the victory: being dou­ble in forces, and nothing inferior, either in valor or policy; but hee acknowledged and confessed the power of the most powerful: he knew that it was not the multitude of men, but God, that giueth the vi­ctory. And therefore hauing first made peace with his owne soule, he humbled himselfe, and asked par­don of those, ouer whom he had gouernment: know­ing no gouernment to be so perfect, wherein some good men are not offended.

This was the effect of his compunction; to put him in remembrance, that Princes are mortall, and that his being a King, bound him to a more strict reckoning, then one that enioyeth a lesser Farme. Now whether this mercifull remembrance of God disgraceth him, iudge ye that haue grace. But now (both battailes being ioyned) what did this valiant King? Did he onely stand to giue directions to o­thers? No, he did rigorous execution with his sword vpon his enemies.

Did he, when he perceiued some of his Subiects disloyally to reuolt, and that his forces were put to the worst, thinke vpon yeelding or flight? Though [Page] by some of his faithfullest seruants he was counsai­led to flie, and for that purpose presented with a Horse of wonderfull speed, yet hee would not: for hauing been inured to conquest, he scorned to yeeld: hauing been a King, he would not die a vassall; and therefore, because the garland was a Crowne, the prize a Kingdome; victory, Maiestie, and perpetual renowne the reward, this Lyon-hearted King cou­ragiously charging his speare, ran into the Battalion of his aduersaries; where, with his owne hands hee slew the stout S. Wil. Bran­don Standard-bearer to Henry the 7. slaine. He was father to Charles Bran­don, after crea­ted D. of Suff. by Henry the 8. Sir william Brandon, Standard-bea­rer of his enemy: he ouerthrew the strong and va­liant Sir Iohn Cheney, and singled out his Competi­tour: who beeing the most Heroick and valiant Prince of those times, yet had doubtlesse been slaine, had not he been rescued by S. William Stanley, who came happily with three thousand men to his res­cue, who on all sides encompassing King Richard, so assayled him, that though he did more then a man, though his Sword acted wonders, yet beeing op­pressed by so great a multitude, hee was there man­fully slaine; not ouercome, for hee conquered the betraiers of men in danger, passion, and feare.

Thus lost he both kingdome and life, but nothing diminished his interiour vertues: When the adiud­ged punishment is performed, our Laws do account the offender as cleere of the crime, as if he neuer had committed it. Why should this common benefit be denied a King, since if guilty, his bloud made resti­tution, and being dead, his royall body was dispoy­led of all kingly ornaments, left naked, and not only vnroyally, but inhumanely, and reprochfully drag­ged? Yet neither can his bloud redeeme him from [Page] iniurious tongues, nor the reproch offered his bo­dy, be thought cruell enough, but that we must still make him more cruelly infamous in Pamphlets and Playes. Compare him now (iudicious Reader) im­partially with other Princes; iudge truely of all their actions, their forme of gouernment, and their Sta­tutes and ordinances, the vpholders, the strength, the sinewes of gouernment; and thou shalt find him as innocent of cruelty, extortion, and tyranny as the most; as wise, politike, and valiant as any: if so, censure him, his actions, his ordinances, according to their deserts, and this Treatise of mine as a charitable well-wishing to a scandalized and defamed king.

Yet for all this know, I hold this but a Paradox.

IT is the complaint of an ancient writer, Nulla tam modesta foeli­citas est, quae malignitatis dentes vitare possit: There was ne­uer any felicity, whether mode­rately seasoned, or compleat in perfection, so happy; that could auoyde the griping teeth of enuie and backbiting. Out of which naturall in-bred malice, men doe not sticke to defame and discredit the most noble and illustrious disease of the French Pocks, and to wrong those that be the worthy subiects in whom they re­side: insomuch that the very mention of them is so noysome and offensiue, and doth so much ouercome their stomacks, as the naming of the things which are the purgings of the belly, and are within the ward and bailiweeke of the girdle. Whereas the name of the Pocks is of so reuerend estimation, and foundeth so pleasingly in the eares of them that are not passionate, that euen Diana her selfe whom the [Page] Paynims adored for their Goddesse of Chastity and honesty, tooke her name from them; whom the La­tines cal Bubones, the French Bubes, and the Spanish Buvas; Latrator Anubis Sancta (que) Buba­stis, Ouid Meta. lib. 9. so is she called Bubastis. Yea, the famous starre Böötes, which guides Charles his waine, admits these syllables into his name, and is called Bubulco. And why then should men here on earth thinke skorne of this name, which is well brooked by stars of the first magnitude, and Goddesses of the fairest beauty? But because Deriuations doe many times driue words out of fashion, and a notation of names is of all the Artificiall Arguments in Logick, one of the weakest, lest, by seeking to lift the Pasty by one end, we marre all; let vs fasten vpon some thing more materiall, and from the originall of the word, come to the beginning of the thing.

Amongst those rich treasures, which Christopher Columbus brought home into Spaine, after his disco­uery of the Indyes, one of the chiefest was the Pockes; For in his Fleete (amongst other fraught) were waf­ted ouer certaine Indian Women, with whose hap­py conuersation the Castilians came home plentiful­ly furnished with this holy contagion: Holy I call it, because the cure of it is that, which they call lignum sanctum, or Guaiacum; Holy, for the place, where it is healed, which is the Hospitall; called by the French, Maison-Dieu, & holy, because they are great helpes to make them that haue them, Saints. For, whosoeuer shall behold the outward mortification of a pocky companion, the delicacie of the tone of his voyce; his pale and meagre face; his wanne colour; and his whole body broken and disioynted, that a man may shake all his bones together in his [Page] skinne; and lastly, shall see him wholy made a very picture and painted table of repentance; hee may see sufficient tokens (at least wise) of apparant holi­nesse: for you neuer see fat panches, and plumpt cheekes, and idle fellowes euer admitted into the schoole of repentance; nor into the Stewes the workehouse of Courtizans; nor in the Hospitall and Lazer-house of the Pock-rotten aduenturers.

Among the three Capitall enemies which with fire and sword doe assaile the soule, the greatest of them, which is the flesh, is wholy subdued by the Pocks: because by them it is made vnable to exercise any vnlawfull act. Is there any thing in the world that doth more open the gates to holinesse, then to take away the occasions of sinning? and what is there that hath more efficacie to withdraw a man or a woman from occasions of euill, then this holy lea­prosie? for if a woman know that a man hath the Pocks, she flies from him as a ragged sheepe from a bramble-bush. Againe, what greater token of ho­linesse can there be in a man, then to haue a sense and feeling of his sinnes? Now who is he that doth suffer greater griefe and paines for his sinnes, then he that hath the Pocks? Who are more franke and more bountifull in gifts then such men? for a Pock-master was neuer accounted a pild paltry fellow. For as when wee see a Black-moore crosse the street, we say, speaking by the contrary, There goes Iohn Blanco: or when we see a common woman, wee likewise say, There goes a good one: so we call this holy infection, the peeling disease, vnderstanding that such a one will part with his very skinne.

All other aches and paines haue some enemy [Page] that may destroy them; or by a bill out of the Apo­thecaries shop, like a writ of Remoue, they may be dislodged; but the Pocks haue made their peace with all drugs and confections, there is not found a­mong all the Phials and Gally-pots any simple, or syrop so powerfull, that can disturbe the Pocks out of their possession: whence it is plaine, that it is wrong­fully and abusiuely called an infirmity: for the word infirmitie argueth and importeth want of firmenes; whereas the Pockes are so farre from not beeing firme, that to him that hath once caught them, they continue so firme, so stable and so well settled; that they neuer forsake him, but accompany him to his graue; and I thinke, into Purgatory too, because no lenitiues, or purgations, can either asswage their paine, or driue them out; surely so good a thing ne­uer goes to Hell.

They that set out the worth and greatnesse of that excellent Poet Homer, ascribe it much to his ho­nour, that hee drew his beginning from many Ci­ties and Islands, as Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon and the like: how much greater is the honour of this sprea­ding gangren of the Pocks, which deriues his descent not from Ilands and Citties, but from great king­domes and Prouinces. Some call it the Neopolitane disease; others the French euill; some the scab of Spaine, others the Indian Sarampion or tetter, and ring-worme; Others that speake with some reuerence and respect to these Lady-mistresses, they feare to vsurpe their proper name; they do not say plainly to a man, You are a Pockie-knaue, but rather Vous auez, sir, ye are pepper'd; and indeed such is the dignity and greatnes of this malander, that they speake of [Page] it, after the stile of Kings and Dukes and Grandes, in the plurall number. For whereas we commonly call blaines and sores in the singular number, the scurfe, or the scabbe, or the Winchester goose, these are all saluted in the plurall number, the Pocks, as if they should stile themselues nos bubones, & pustulae Galli­canae. And well doth this stile agree vnto them, be­cause they deale royally and nobly with their atten­dants; for whereas in Princes Courts they that are suiters, do not see an end of their pretensions in ma­ny yeares, and when all comes to all, they seldome reape the fifth part of what they sued for: these no­bles do soone dispatch all that negotiate with them, or plead at their barres, wonderfully well prouided for.

Now let not any man obiect as an inconuenient, that the Pocks do peele all those that are of their fra­ternity & liuery, & make them as bald as an egge: for if we consider it, they do vnto them no therein small benefit: For looke what proportion the leaues beare to the Tree, feathers to a Bird, the same haue the haires and the bush-naturall to a man, that is, they are giuen both for an ornament and a defence; for a couering and for comlinesse.

And seeing that Nature doth do trees a fauour, in making them to shead their leaues, and Fowles to moulter their feathers, that so she may dight them and cloath them yeerely with new; shee doth not deale so with men, but leaues them to themselues, to effect it by their own industry and prouidence, wher­unto when they are disposed to moulter and to doe off their perriwigs or perruques, the Pocks in this case is Natures agent, which doth maintaine her­selfe [Page] with that which is most delicate in that subiect, such as are the thin lockes of the head, the daintines of the eye-liddes and the eye-browes; the venerable beards, & the most valiant mustaches: for neuer any timerous and white-liuered cowards haue the Pocks, but the most foole-hardie aduenturers are admitted into this corporation.

It is a rule infallible, that men are vsually such as are those with whom they conuerse. And who are they (I pray you) that are most hanted with the Pocks but noble Lords, Caualiers, and men of high pa­rentage? The plow-swaine or day-labourer neuer knew that there was any such thing in the world as the Pocks; such is their miserable ignorance; nor yet the Porters or Carre-men are greatly troubled with this Luggage in their owne persons, neither doe they euer descend so low as to chare-maids and Tankard-bearers. But you must seeke for them a­mongst the lusty gallants, and gay Ladies that ruffle it in silkes, and outward brauery▪ And therefore may it please thee to be aduertised, gentle Reader, whosoeuer thou be that standest vpon complement; that whensoeuer thou shalt salute such a Ladie or Caualier in the street, by vailing thy bonnet, know, that by that obeysance thou dost homage to two Grandes and great personages at once, one to the party principall that is obuious to thy eye, the other to the Pocks which he carrieth about him.

How doth the world dote vpon Astrologers and Starre-gazers, that can foretell and diuine of things to come, whether they bee the writers of the Greeke Menologies and Calenders of the Month­ly variation of dayes; or Prognostications of the [Page] changes of the Moone: or dayes Almanackes for the alteration of the weather? Whereas there is no Astrologer more vveather-wise then a Pock-ma­ster, or whose predictions are more certaine: for, if there be any change of weather or season appro­ching, presently the intrinsecall Accidents that cleaue to his bones & sinews, do giue him a perfect notice of it, in that he feeleth an ache in euery com­missure of his ioints, and his bones doe euen rat­tle in his skinne.

Adde hereunto, that men thus affected (or infe­cted rather) haue this great priuiledge aboue o­ther men, that although they be in vassallage, and slaues by condition, yet are they obserued and re­spected as absolute Lords; and are serued of euery bodie, whereas they serue none but God, whom by the Pocks they are brought to remember. And see, I pray you, to what a Lordlinesse they are ad­uanced, in that not onely their persons are in a manner sacred, and may not be approched, but at a certaine distance; but whatsoeuer is about them, and belongs to their necessary vse, cannot safely be touched of any man, as if they were some holy Re­liques; For no man dares to lye in their bed, or to weare their clothes, or to drinke in their cup, or to sit in their chaires; men willingly withdrawing them­selues from these things, as from vessels consecra­ted to this great Idoll of the Bubositie.

Howbeit, it is not greatly to be maruailed at; that the Pocks haue attained to so high a pitch and pre­rogatiue of excellency, considering that the same act and operation, and the same instruments which Nature imployeth to produce a man, which is the [Page] noblest of her creatures; the same are also the ge­nerature causes of the Pocks; I meane, the great and honourable Pocks: for those other pushes and in­flammations that arise in the body, of cold, or from an ouer-heated and exulcerated liuer, are not pro­perly pocks, but pouts and pimples. So then, this reason being considered, the Pocks may very iustly take state vpon them, and stand vpon puntillos of honour, and out-braue a man to his face and say, that they are issued from as good Parents as he. And surely it seemes no lesse; for as they that are nobly borne, the better to shew their greatnesse and to maintain their state, they liue retiredly in the inmost and remotest roomes of their house: so do the Pocks, out of the same rule and reason of State, keep resi­dence in the very bones and the marrow of him that hath them; which is the reason also why for their birth and honourable ranke, they finde place and in­tertainment in Loues Court, into which nothing is ad­mitted, but what sauoureth either of greatnesse or of goodnesse, as braue, resolute and determinate men; gallant and faire women; free discourse; wanton witty Poems, and plenty of great Pocks. And last­ly, what greater token can there be of a Noble Na­ture, then to shew thankfulnesse to those that haue suffered any thing for their sakes, or done ought to procure their good? in which kind of retribution the Pocks are no way deficient. For whereas the nose in the purchase of the Pocks doth suffer a kind of le­sion and hurt by the arrosion of its gristle; to make it ample amends and satisfaction; the pocks doe make the nose the trumpet, or horn-pipe of their owne prayses; whose gracefull tone varied Chro­matically [Page] vpon the musicks and halfe-notes of snuf­fing and snorting, is much like the vntamed voice and braying of Silenus his hobby-horse.

Now if there be any man so ill an husband, that amongst other things of his owne getting and acqui­sition hath not been so happy, as to become owner of the pocks; let him blame himselfe for an vnthrift, that hath mis-pent his time; and say, that hee is without them, because they are not within him: or with the Spaniard, that hee wants them, because he is not worthy of them:

Carnestoliendas de Castilla. Noche tercera.

WEE are fallen into that dotage of the World, in which, the worst things doe ouertop the worthiest, sence doth besot the vnderstan­ding, drinke ouercommeth the braine, and the eye beguyleth and misleadeth the sight. And therefore in tender commiseration of mankinde, I will endeuour to rec­tifie their iudgement in a Paradox, then which there hath none more intricate, been discussed and can­uassed among the Stoiks in Zenos porch, that is, That it is better for a man to liue in debt, then otherwise.

Ordiar ab ouo, I will begin from the egge, that your concoxion may be the easier. In the whole course and frame of Nature, we see that nothing is made for it selfe, but each hath a bond of duty, of vse or of seruice, by which it is indebted to other. The sunne by his splendor to lighten all the world; by his warmth and heate, to cherish and comfort each li­uing and vegetable thing. Yea, man himselfe is so framed of God, that not onely his Countrey, his Parents and his friends claime a share in him, but he is also indebted to his dogge, and to his Oxe, to [Page] teach the one to hunt for his pleasure, the other to labour for his profit: so that quicquid habet genij, in­genij, moris, amoris, the abilities of his spirit, the affections of his mind, he hath them for others, as­much as for himselfe; nay the more for others, by how much hee desireth to be the greater Lord ouer others. Let him but looke into himselfe, and see how his constitutiue parts are debters each to other, the soule doth quicken and giue life to the body, the body like an Automaton, doth moue and carry it selfe and the soule. Suruey him in his parts, the eye see­eth for the foote, the foote standeth for the hand, the hand toucheth for the mouth, the mouth tasteth for the stomacke, the stomacke eateth for the whole body, the body repayeth backe againe that nutri­ment which it hath receiued, to al the parts, dischar­ging the retriments by the Port-Esquiline; and all this in so comely an order, and by a Law so certaine, and in so due a time, as if Nature had rather man should not haue been at all, then not to be a debter in euery part of him; which hath made me resolue, that to whomsoeuer I meane to bee a friend, I will striue to be in his debt: and what can I do lesse? for to him that doth mee a good turne, I am bound to returne him the greatest pleasure; which I can no way do, but by being in his debt: for what content­ment will it be vnto him, when I shall repay him his owne againe? The Alchymists, who promise to themselues to turne Tin into siluer, and Copper in­to gold, how will they bee transported out of them­selues with ioy, if they should but see a happy issue of their attempt? How much more a Creditor, when hee shall recouer a desperate debt? It is like [Page] the ioy of a Father that receiues his lost Child.

Againe, he that is in debt, hath this great priui­ledge aboue other men, that his Creditors powre out hearty prayers for him, they wish that hee may liue, and thriue and prosper, and grow rich, and all for their owne aduantage. They seeme to be care­full for their debtors, that they may not lose their principall with the interest, for their money is their life, witnesse those Vsurers of France, who, when they heard that the price of Corne was fallen, went and hanged themselues for griefe.

What a command doth the debtor gaine ouer his Creditors? He becommeth in a manner their Land­lord, to whom they cap, crouch, and kneele, as if they did owe him all suits and seruices, and are as ambitious of their fauours, as they who in Rome did canuas the people for their voices to attaine the greatest offices: but here is their cunning: Laudant vt Leadant, they praise them, that they may prey v­pon. And therefore, you braue gallants and spend­thrifts, who find by your wofull experience, that no whip giues a shrweder lash then the label of a Bond or Obligation, with a Nouerint vniuersi Skinner and Lacy. Whensoeuer you fall into the Mercers books, neuer take care, or make conscience of paying your debts, for by that meanes you shall keepe your Cre­ditor in awe, and shall haue him wonderfull courte­ous and officious, and obsequious towards you, and a great mint-master of faire words.

Without debt and loane the Fabricke of the world will be disioynted and fall asunder into its first Chaos. The beauty of the Starres, what would it be but vast­nesse and deformity, if the Sunne did not lend them [Page] light? The earth would remaine vnfruitfull, if shee did not borrow refreshing dewes from the watery Signes and Planets. The Summer is pleasant, and promiseth great hopes of plenty, but it is, because it taketh vp much vpon trust, from the friendly and sea­sonable temperment of the Elements. And to say the truth, there is nothing good or great in the world, but that it borroweth something from others to make it great, or lendeth to another to make it good. And therefore I maruaile why Antiquity, who made Mildew, 1. AErugo. Feauer, and Scuruinesse god­desses, did not matriculate loane and debt among the rest. 2. Febris. 3. Psora.

The Elements who are linked together by a league of association, and by their symbolizing qua­lities, doe barter and truck, borrow and lend one to another, as being the Bursse, and Royall-Exchange of nature: they are by this traffique and intercourse, the very life and nourishmēt of all sublunary bodies, and therefore are called Elimenta quasi alimenta, whose happy concord & coniunction hath brought forth those, whom the World for the good done to mankind, hath esteemed gods, as Bacchus the great Vintner, Ceres the Meale-mother, Flora the Tutty-maker, Vertumus and Pomona Costard-mongers.

Now, if euery man would render and repay in full waight, that which by due debt he oweth and hath borrowed from others, Saturnes golden age would returne againe, in which there was no diffe­rence of metals, but gold and siluer were all one Oare, and made the yelke of the earth, Natures great Egge, neither did Meum and Tuum bound out, and apportionate Lands and Lordships, by [Page] meare stones, and diuersity of Tenures of sockage and focadge; since when, Qui habet terras, habet guer­ras, and the King of heauens peace hath been dis­turbd amongst men: but then all things were all mens, as necessitie did allot and award, who was then the onely iudge and arbitrator, competently al­lowing to euery man, that which he stood in need of.

With what dearenesse haue both gods and good men countenanced and graced debtors? To whom Diana the great goddesse of Ephesus, granted her Temple for a Sanctuarie, to keepe them out of Bagwell: Pigeon-houses. Or if they were caught, Solon by a solemne Law inacted, would not haue their bodies to be fettered or manacled amongst malefactors, but that they should enioy their liberty throughout all the Parkes and Purlues of the prison, or to speake more mildly, of their restraint & indurance: For the Prison is built Purgatory-wise, after the Architec­ture of Rome, with a Limbus and Tullianum. The dungeon is the Deuils pinfold and the very suburbs of Hell, where varlets, roarers, and stilettostabbers are let downe, as the proper food that stuffes that great greedy maw. The next roome is the Lollard of trunck-hosed famulists and separatists, who after they haue been rowelled in the neck, to cure them of the Megrim of the head, they are by the gentle flame of this Stoue, and the heate of their owne zeale, made to sweat out their contumary and other pec­cant humors. The vpper skirt and stage of this building, is the Garret of expencefull wasters, game­sters and vnthrifty debtors, where though they liue robbed of their liberty, as they rifled others of their [Page] money. Yet is it their great happinesse, that being glutted, as it were, with an Apolausticke voluptary life, they haue an easie ouverture made to the con­templatiue and practick life of Vertue. Who euer liued more like a Souc'd-gurn-head amongst men, then Diogenes the Cynick, barrelling himselfe vp in his tubbe like a Kegge of Sturgion? Yet was the happinesse of his contented life enuied of the grea­test Monarchs, who hauing made their throats the through-face and the cullenders of meats & drinkes, found an ouergorged belly, to be Wits clog, Rea­sons sepulcher, Lusts Arsenall, the Magazin of lewd practices, and the Nurserie of all vices: all which prouocations are defalted by Debts wants and indi­gency.

And lastly, the Lumbards, Vsurers, and Scriue­ners, who are the Bedles of Beggars, and are ac­counted the Tetters vpon the body politike of the Common-weale, who turne the Calends and new Moones, and the Festiuall dayes of quarter-gaudies, into the Octanes of disaster and Doomes-day rec­konings, when any of these come to Heauen, there is a wonderment amongst the Angels, and they cry out with S ^r. Gurman of Alfarache, fruta nueua, fruta nueua, heere is a new kind of fruit start vp, a Pumpa­radise vpon a crab-stocke, Lumbards and Scriueners are become the Popes cannonized and beatified saints.

Farewell then, Vlpianus, Modestinus, and other pettifoggers of the Law, Sollicitours, and mole­sters of causes, who account being in debt a kind of bondage and seruitude. I pittie Senecaes weakenesse, who blushed to borrow; miserum verbum et dimisso [Page] vultu proferendum, Rogo: Th. Ocleue. in. Chaucer. That Poet Laureat, for-faited his wreath of Bayes and Iuie twine, who made his praiers to his purse to keep him out of debt, in this manner.

Yet wellfare the Prodigall vnthrift, who is magis promus quam condus, and serues at the Buttry-hatch, whatsoeuer is in his Binn or his Barrell, and there­fore could neuer indure the complaint of his Purse, who thus bemoan'd her selfe vnto him.

For the Al-te-mael, and foote of the reckoning, this is the summa summarum: Debemur morti nos nostra (que). So that whilst I liue, I must resolue to liue in debt, in debt to God, for my being; in debt to CHRIST, for my well-being; in debt to Gods sanctifying Spirit, for my new-being: And I will e­uer be ready to pawne my life for my Countries li­berty, I will owe obedience to my Parents, Faith and Loyaltie to my Prince: And when I shall pay my great debt vnto Nature, I will render my spirit into the hands of God; bequeath my body to be deposed in the lap and bosome of the earth, and cry, Domine, dimitte de­bita mea.