The oration of the king on his death-bed. (continued 2)

The other two were somewhat greater personages, and nathelesse of their humilitie content to be namelesse, and to forbeare the praise of those properties: but the merriest was this Shores wife, in whom the king therefore tooke speciall pleasure. For manie he had, but hir he loued; whose fauour to say the truth (for sin it were to beelie the diuell) she neuer abused to anie mans hurt, but to manie a mans comfort and reléefe. Where the king tooke displeasure, shée would mitigate and appease his mind: where men were out of fauour, she would bring them in his grace. For manie that had highlie offended shée obteined pardon. Of great forfeitures she gat men remission.

Finallie, in manie weightie sutes she stood manie a man in great stead, either for none or verie small rewards, and those rather gaie than rich; either that she was content with the déed it selfe well doone; or for that she delighted to be sued vnto, and to shew what she was able to doo with the king; or for that wanton women and wealthie be not alwaies courteous. I doubt not some shall thinke this woman too slight a thing to be written of, and set among the remembrances of great matters: which they shall speciallie thinke, that happilie shall estéeme hir onelie by that they now sée hir.

But me séemeth the chance so much the more worthie to be remembred, in how much she is now in the more beggerlie condition, vnfréended and worne out of acquaintance, after good substance, after as great fauour with the prince, after as great sute and séeking to with all those, that those daies had businesse to spéed; as manie other men were in their times, which be now famous onelie by the infamie of their ill déeds. Hir dooings were not much lesse, albeit they be much lesse remembred, bicause they were not so euill. For men vse if they haue an euill turne, to write it in marble: and who so dooth vs a good turne, we write it in dust, which is not worst prooued by hir: for at this daie she beggeth of manie at this daie liuing, that at this daie had begged if she had not béene.

Sir Richard Ratcliffe.

Now was it so deuised by the protector and his councell, that the selfe daie, in which the lord chamberleine was beheaded in the Tower of London, and about the selfe same houre, was there (not without his assent) beheaded at Pomfret, the foreremembred lords & knights that were taken from the king at Northampton and Stonie Stratford. Which thing was doone in the presence, and by the order of sir Richard Ratcliffe knight, whose seruice the protector speciallie vsed in that councell, and in the execution of such lawlesse enterprises, as a man that had béene long secret with him, hauing experience of the world, and a shrewd wit, short & rude in spéech, rough and boisterous of behauiour, bold in mischiefe, as far from pitie as from all feare of God.

The lord Riuers & other beheaded.

This knight bringing them out of the prison to the scaffold, and shewing to the people about that they were traitors (not suffering them to declare & speake their innocencie, least their words might haue inclined men to pitie them, and to hate the protector and his part) caused them hastilie, without iudgement, processe, or maner of order to be beheaded, and without other earthlie gilt, but onelie that they were good men, too true to the king, and too nigh to the quéene. Now when the lord chamberleine & these other lords and knights were thus beheaded, and rid out of the waie: then thought the protector, that when men mused what the matter meant, while the lords of the realme were about him out of their owne strengths, while no man wist what to thinke, nor whom to trust, yer euer they should haue space to dispute and digest the matter and make parties; it were best hastilie to pursue his purpose, and put himselfe in possession of the crowne, yer men could haue time to deuise anie waie to resist.

Edmund Shaw maior of London.

But now was all the studie by what meanes this matter, being of it selfe so heinous, might be first broken to the people, in such wise that it might be well taken. To this councell they tooke diuerse, such as they thought méetlie to be trusted, likelie to be induced to that part, and able to stand them in stéed either by power or policie. Among whome they made of councell Edmund Shaw knight then maior of London, which vpon trust of his owne aduancement, whereof he was of a proud heart highlie desirous, should frame the citie to their appetite. Of spirituall men they tooke such as had wit, and were in authentic among the people for opinion of their learning, and had no scrupulous conscience. Among these had they Iohn Shaw clearke brother to the maior, and frier Penker, prouinciall of the Augustine friers both doctors of diuinitie, both great preachers, both of more learning than vertue, of more fame than learning. For they were before greatlie estéemed among the people: but after that neuer.

Doct. Shaw.

Frier Penker.

Of these two the one had a sermon in praise of the protector before the coronation, the other after, both so full of tedious flatterie, that no mans eares could abide them. Penker in his sermon so lost his voice, that he was fame to leaue off, and come downe in the midst. Doctor Shaw by his sermon lost his honestie, & soone after his life, for verie shame of the world, into which he durst neuer after come abroad. But the frier forced for no shame, and so it harmed him the lesse. Howbeit some doubt, and manie thinke, that Penker was not of counsell in the matter before the coronation, but after the common maner fell to flatterie after: namelie sith his sermon was not incontinentlie vpon it, but at saint Marie hospitall at the Easter after.

The chiefest deuise to depose the prince.

But certeine it is, that doctor Shaw was of counsell in the beginning, so farre foorth that they determined that he should first breake the matter in a sermon at Paules crosse, in which he should (by the authoritie of his preaching) incline the people to the protectors ghostlie purpose. But now was all the labor and studie in the deuise of some conuenient pretext, for which the people should be content to depose the prince, and accept the protector for king. In which diuerse things they deuised. But the chéefe thing & the weightiest of all that inuention rested in this, that they should alledge bastardie, either in king Edward himselfe, or in his children, or both. So that he should séeme disabled to inherit the crowne, by the duke of Yorke, and the prince by him.

To laie bastardie in king Edward, sounded openlie to the rebuke of the protectors owne mother, which was mother to them both; for in that point could be no other color, but to pretend that his owne mother was an adultresse, which notwithstanding, to further this purpose he letted not. But neuerthelesse he would that point should be lesse and more fauourablie handled: not euen fullie plaine and directlie, but that the matter should be touched aslope craftilie, as though men spared in that point to speake all the truth, for feare of his displeasure. But the other point concerning the bastardie that they deuised to surmize in king Edwards children, that would he should be openlie declared and inforced to the vttermost. The colour and pretext whereof cannot be well perceiued, but if we first repeat you some things long before doone about king Edwards mariage.

Sée before pag. 283.

Dame Elizabeth Greie.

After that king Edward the fourth had deposed king Henrie the sixt, and was in peaceable possession of the realme, determining himselfe to marie (as it was méet both for him selfe & the realme) he sent ouer in ambassage the erle of Warwike, with other noble men in his companie to Spaine, to treat & conclude a mariage betwéene K. Edward & the kings daughter of Spaine. In which thing the erle of Warwike found the parties so toward & willing, that he speedily (according to his instructions without any difficultie) brought the matter to very good cōclusion. Now hapned it, that in the meane season there came to make a sute by petition to the king dame Elizabeth Greie, which was after his quéene, at that time a widow, borne of noble bloud, by hir mother, duches of Bedford, yer she maried the lord Wooduile, hir father.

Howbeit, this dame Elizabeth hir selfe, being in seruice with quéene Margaret, wife vnto king Henrie the sixt, was maried vnto one [Iohn] Greie an esquier, whome king Henrie made knight vpon the field that he had on [Barnet heath by saint Albons] against king Edward. But litle while inioied he that knighthood: for he was at the same field slaine. After which doone, and the earle of Warwike, being in his ambassage about the afore remembred mariage, this poore ladie made humble sute vnto the king, that she might be restored vnto such small lands as hir late husband had giuen hir in iointure. Whome when the king beheld, and heard hir speake as she was both faire and of a goodlie fauor, moderate of stature, well made and verie wise: he not onelie pitied hir, but also waxed inamoured of hir. And taking hir afterward secretlie aside, began to enter in talking more familiarlie. Whose appetite when she perceiued, she vertuouslie denied him.

A wise answer of a chast and continent ladie.

But that did she so wiselie, and with so good maner, and words so well set, that she rather kindled his desire than quenched it. And finallie, after manie a méeting, much wooing, and many great promises, she well espieng the kings affection toward hir so greatlie increased, that she durst somewhat the more boldlie saie hir mind, as to him whose hart she perceiued more feruentlie set, than to fall off for a word. And in conclusion, she shewed him plaine, that as she wist hir selfe too simple to be his wife, so thought she hir selfe too good to be his concubine. The king much maruelling at hir constancie (as he that had not béen woont elsewhere to be so stiffelie said naie) so much estéemed hir continencie and chastitie, that he set hir vertue in the stéed of possession and riches: and thus taking counsell of his desire, determined in all possible hast to marie hir.

The kings mother.

Now after he was thus appointed, and had betwéene them twaine insured hir: then asked he counsell of his other fréends, and that in such maner, as they might then perceiue it booted not greatlie to say naie. Notwithstanding the duches of Yorke his mother was so sore mooued therewith, that she dissuaded the mariage as much as she possible might; alledging that it was his honour, profit and suertie also, to marie in a noble progenie out of his realme, wherevpon depended great strength to his estate, by the affinitie and great possibilitie of increase of his possession. And that he could not well otherwise doo, séeing that the earle of Warwike had so farre mooued alreadie: which were not likelie to take it well, if all his voiage were in such wise frustrate, and his appointment deluded. And she said also, that it was not princelie to marie his owne subiect, no great occasion leading therevnto, no possessions, or other commodities depending therevpon; but onlie as it were a rich man that would marie his maid, onelie for a little wanton dotage vpon hir person.

In which mariage manie mo commend the maidens fortune, than the maisters wisedome. And yet therein (she said) was more honestie than honour in this mariage. For somuch as there is betwéene no merchant and his owne maid so great difference, as betwéene the king and this widow. In whose person, albeit there was nothing to be misliked; yet was there (she said) nothing so excellent, but that it might be found in diuerse other that were more méetlie (quoth she) for your estate, and maidens also; whereas the onelie widowhead of Elizabeth Greie, though she were in all other things conuenient for you, shuld yet suffice (as me séemeth) to refraine you from hir mariage, sith it is an vnfitting thing, and a verie blemish and high disparagement to the sacred maiestie of a prince, that ought as nigh to approch priesthood in cleannesse as he dooth in dignitie, to be defiled with bigamie in his first mariage.

The kings answer to his mother.

The king, when his mother had said, made hir answer, part in earnest, part in plaie merilie, as he that wist himselfe out of hir rule. And albeit he would gladlie that she should take it well, yet was at a point in his owne mind, tooke she it well or otherwise. Howbeit somewhat to satisfie hir, he said, that albeit mariage (being a spirituall thing) ought rather to be made for the respect of God, where his grace inclineth the parties to loue togither, as he trusted it was in his, than for the regard of anie temporall aduantage: yet neuerthelesse, him séemed that this mariage, euen worldlie considered, was not vnprofitable. For he reckoned the amitie of no earthlie nation so necessarie for him, as the fréendship of his owne, which he thought likely to beare him so much the more hartie fauour, in that he disdained not to marie with one of his owne land.

And yet if outward aliance were thought so requisite, he would find the meanes to enter thereinto, much better by other of his kin, where all the parties could be contented, than to marie himselfe whome he should happilie neuer loue; and for the possibilitie of more possessions, leese the fruit and pleasure of this that he had alreadie. Tor small pleasure taketh a man of all that euer he hath beside, if he be wiued against his appetite. And I doubt not (quoth he) but there be (as ye say) other, that be in euerie point comparable with hir. And therefore I let not them that like them to wed them. No more is it reason, that it mislike anie man, that I marrie where it liketh me. And I am sure that my cousine of Warwike neither loueth me so little, to grudge at that I loue; nor is so vnreasonable, to looke that I should in choise of a wife, rather be ruled by his eie, than by mine owne: as though I were a ward that were bound to marie by the appointment of a gardian.

Libertie preferred before a kingdome.

I would not be a king with that condition, to forbeare mine owne libertie in choise of mine owne mariage. As for possibilitie of more inheritance by new affinitie in strange lands, is oft the occasion of more trouble than profit. And we haue alreadie title by that meanes vnto so much, as sufficeth to get and kéepe well in one mans daies. That she is a widow, and hath alreadie children; by Gods blessed ladie, I am a bacheler, and haue some too, and so ech of vs hath a proofe that neither of vs is like to be barren. And therefore (madame) I praie you be content, I trust in God she shall bring foorth a yoong prince that shall please you. And as for the bigamie, let the bishop hardlie laie it in my waie when I come to take orders. For I vnderstand it is forbidden a preest, but I neuer wist it yet, that it was forbidden a prince. [This spake he as alluding to the libertie of princes, whose lust standeth oftentimes for law, and their opinion for reason, according to the saieng of the poet;

Claudi.

Elizabeth Lucie.

The duches with these words nothing appeased, and séeing the king so set thereon, that she could not pull him backe. So highlie she disdained it, that vnder pretext of hir dutie to Godward, she deuised to disturbe this mariage, and rather to helpe that he should marie one dame Elizabeth Lucie, whome the king had also not long before gotten with child. Wherefore the kings mother openlie obiected against his mariage, as it were in discharge of hir conscience, that the king was sure to dame Elizabeth Lucie and hir husband before God. By reason of which words, such obstacle was made in the matter, that either the bishops durst not, or the king would not proceed to the solemnization of this wedding, till these same were clearlie purged, and the truth well and openlie testified. Wherevpon dame Elizabeth Lucie was then sent for.

The kings mariage.

And albeit that she was by the kings mother and manie other put in good comfort, to affirme that she was ensured vnto the king: yet when she was solemnlie sworne to saie the truth, she confessed that they were neuer ensured. Howbeit she said his grace spake so louing words vnto hir, that she verelie hoped he would haue married hir. And that if it had not béene for such kind words, she would neuer haue shewed such kindnesse to him, to let him so kindlie get hir with child. This examination solemnlie taken, when it was cléerelie perceiued, that there was none impediment: the king with great feast and honourable solemnitie married dame Elizabeth Greie, and hir crowned quéene that was his enimies wife, and manie times had praied full hartilie for his losse, in which God loued hir better than to grant hir hir boune.

The king fled.

The prince borne.

King Henrie the sixt set vp.

Of the earle of Warwike.

But when the earle of Warwike vnderstood of this marriage, he tooke it so highlie that his ambassage was deluded, that for verie anger and disdaine he (at his returning) assembled a great puissance against the king, and came so fast vpon him yer he could be able to resist, that he was faine to void the realme, and flee into Holland for succor, where he remained for the space of two yeares, leauing his new wife at Westminster in sanctuarie, where she was deliuered of Edward the prince, of whome we before haue spoken. In which meane time the earle of Warwike tooke out of prison, and set vp againe king Henrie the sixt, who was before by king Edward deposed, and that much what by the power of the erle of Warwike, which was a wise man, and a couragious warriour, and of such strength, what for his lands, his aliance, and fauor with all people, that he made kings and put downe kings almost at his pleasure, and not impossible to haue atteined it himselfe, if he had not reckoned it a greater thing to make a king than to be a king.

The earle of Warwike slaine.

But nothing lasteth alwaie: far in conclusion, king Edward returned, and with much lesse number than he had at Barnet on the Easter daie field, slue the earle of Warwike, with manie other great estates of that partie, & so stablie atteined the crowne againe, that he peaceablie enioied it vntill his dieng daie: and in such plight left it, that it could not be lost but by the discord of his verie friends, or falsehood of his feigned fréends. I haue rehearsed this businesse about this marriage somewhat the more at length, bicause it might thereby the better appeare, vpon how slipperie a ground the protector builded his colour, by which he pretended king Edwards children to be bastards. But that inuention, simple as it was, it liked them to whome it sufficed to haue somewhat to saie, while they were sure to be compelled to no larger proofe than themselues list to make.

Doc. Shaw's sermon.

Now then (as I began to shew you) it was by the protector and his councell concluded, that this doctor Shaw should in a sermon at Pauls crosse signifie to the people, that neither king Edward himselfe, nor the duke of Clarence, were lawfullie begotten, nor were not the verie children of the duke of Yorke, but gotten vnlawfullie by other persons, in adulterie, of the duches their mother. And that also dame Elizabeth Lucie was verilie the wife of king Edward, and so the prince and all his children bastards, that were begotten vpon the quéene. According to this deuise doctor Shaw the sundaie after, at Paules crosse in a great audience (as alwaie assembled great number to his preaching) he tooke for his theame; Spuria vitilamina non agent radices altas, that is to saie; Bastard slippes shall neuer take déepe root.

Therevpon when he had shewed the great grace that God giueth, and secretlie insundeth in right generation after the lawes of matrimonie, then declared he, that commonlie those children lacked that grace, and for the punishment of their parents were (for the more part) vnhappie, which were gotten in base, and speciallie in adulterie. Of which, though some, by the ignorance of the world and the truth hid from knowledge, inherited for the season other mens lands, yet God alwaie so prouideth, that it continueth not in their bloud long: but the truth comming to light, the rightfull inheritors be restored, and the bastard slip pulled vp yer it can be rooted déepe. And so he did laie for the proofe and confirmation of this sentence certeine insamples taken out of the old testament, and other ancient histories.

This preacher was taught his lesson yer he came into the pulpit.

K. Edward slandered in a sermon.

Then began he to descend into the praise of the lord Richard late duke of Yorke, calling him father to the lord protector, and declared the title of his heires vnto the crowne, to whome it was (after the death of king Henrie the sixt) intailed by authoritie of parlement. Then shewed he that his verie right heire of his bodie lawfullie begotten was onelie the lord protector. For he declared then, that king Edward was neuer lawfullie married vnto the quéene, but was before God husband vnto dame Elizabeth Lucie, and so his children bastards. And besides that, neither king Edward himselfe, nor the duke of Clarence, among those that were secret in the houshold, were reckoned verie suerlie for the children of the noble duke, as those that by their fauours more resembled other knowne men than him. From whose vertuous conditions he said also that the late king Edward was far off.

A maruellous deuise to mooue the assemblie.

But the lord protector he said, the verie noble prince, the speciall paterne of knightlie prowesse, as well in all princelie behauior, as in the lineaments and fauour of his visage, represented the verie face of the noble duke his father. This is, quoth he, the fathers owne figure, this is his owne countenance, the verie print of his visage, the sure vndoubted image, the plaine expresse likenesse of that noble duke. Now was it before deuised, that in the speaking of these words, the protector should haue comen in among the people to the sermon ward, to the end that those words méeting with his presence, might haue béen taken among the hearers, as though the Holie-ghost had put them in the preachers mouth, & should haue mooued the people euen there to crie; King Richard, king Richard: that it might haue béene after said, that he was speciallie chosen by God, and in maner by miracle. But this deuise quailed, either by the protectors negligence, or the preachers ouermuch diligence.

K. Richard commended by the preacher.

For while the protector found by the waie tarieng least he should preuent those words, and the doctor fearing that he should come yer his sermon could come to these words, hasted his matter thereto, he was come to them and past them, and entered into other matters yer the protector came. Whome when he beheld comming, he suddenlie left the matter with which he was in hand, and without anie deduction therevnto, out of all order, and out of all frame, began to repeat those words againe: "This is the verie noble prince, the speciall patrone of knightlie prowesse, which as well in all princelie behauior, as in the lineaments & fauor of his visage, representeth the verie face of the noble duke of Yorke his father: this is the fathers owne figure, this is his owne countenance, the verie print of his visage, the sure vndoubted image, the plaine expresse likenesse of the noble duke, whose remembrance can neuer die while he liueth."

Note the course of Gods iudgement.

While these words were in speaking, the protector accompanied with the duke of Buckingham, went through the people into the place where the doctors commonlie stand in the vpper storie, where he stood to hearken the sermon. But the people were so farre frō crieng; K. Richard, that they stood as they had béene turned into stones, for woonder of this shamefull sermon. After which once ended, the preacher gat him home, and neuer after durst looke out for shame, but kept him out of sight like an owle. And when he once asked one that had béene his old friend what the people talked of him, all were it that his owne conscience well shewed him that they talked no good; yet when the tother answered him, that there was in euerie mans mouth spoken of him much shame, it so strake him to the heart, that within few daies after he withered and consumed awaie [for verie thought and inward pine, procured by irrecouerable cares, whose nature is noted by obseruation of their effects:

Ouid. iib. 3. met.

Then on the tuesdaie following this sermon, there came to the Guildhall in London the duke of Buckingham, accompanied with diuerse lords and knights mo than happilie knew the message that they brought. And there in the east end of the hall, where the maior kéepeth the Hustings, the maior and all the aldermen being assembled about him, all the commons of the citie gathered before them. After silence commanded vpon great paine in the protectors name: the duke stood vp, and (as he was neither vnlearned, and of nature maruellouslie well spoken) he said vnto the people with a cleare and lowd voice in this maner of wise.