RICHARD THE THIRD, third sonne to Richard duke of Yorke, and vncle to Edward the fift.

An. Reg. 1.

1483.

(*) This that is here betwéene this marke & this marke (*) was not written by maister More in this historie written by him in English, but is translated out of this historie which he wrote in Latine.

(*) The next daie the protector with a great traine went to Westminster hall, & there when he had placed himselfe in the court of the Kings bench, declared to the audience, that he would take vpon him the crowne in that place there, where the king himselfe sitteth and ministreth the law, bicause he considered that it was the chiefest dutie of a king to minister the lawes. Then with as pleasant an oration as he could, he went about to win vnto him the nobles, the merchants, the artificers, and in conclusion all kind of men, but especiallie the lawiers of this realme. And finallie to the intent that no man should hate him for feare, and that his deceitfull clemencie might get him the good will of the people, when he had declared the discommodities of discord, & the cōmodities of concord & vnitie, he made an open proclamation, that he did put out of his mind all enimities, and that he there did openlie pardon all offenses committed against him.

And to the intent that he might shew a proofe therof, he commanded that one Fog, whom he had long deadlie hated, should be brought then before him, who being brought out of the sanctuarie (for thither had he fled for feare of him) in the sight of the people he tooke him by the hand. Which thing the common people reioised at, and praised, but wise men tooke it for a vanitie. In his returne homeward, whome so euer he met, he saluted. For a mind that knoweth it selfe guiltie, is in a manner deiected to a seruile flatterie [which refuseth no dutifulnesse, tend the same to neuer so hie a degrée of indignitie; which one noteth, saieng:

From this marke (*) to this (*) is not found in sir Thomas More, but in maister Hall and Grafton.

When he had begun his reigne in the moneth of Iune, after this mockish election, then was he crowned king in the verie same moneth. And that solemnitie was furnished, for the most part, with the selfe same prouision that was appointed for the coronation of his nephue. (*) But here to shew the manner of his coronation, as the same is inserted in this pamphlet of sir Thomas More, by maister Edward Hall and Richard Grafton (although not found in the same pamphlet) thus we find it by them reported. (*) First, to be sure of all enimies (as he thought) he sent for fiue thousand men of the north against his coronation, which came vp euill apparelled, and worse harnessed, in rustie harnesse, neither defensible, nor scowred to the sale, which mustered in Finsburie field to the great disdaine of the lookers on. [By which beginning appéered to the world that he had his state in suspicion, otherwise he would not haue procured such a power to be attendant at his commandment, and that at such time as (all weapons laid aside) peace and tranquillitie should haue béene sought after for the comforts of the peoples minds, & the safetie of his owne person; but being verie mistrustfull & fraught with carefull thoughts, he was in a maze betwéene hope and feare, according to this verie true saieng:

The fourth daie of Iulie he came to the Tower by water with his wife, and the fift daie he created Thomas lord Howard duke of Norffolke, and sir Thomas Howard his sonne he created earle of Surrie, and William lord Berkeleie was then created erle of Nottingham, and Francis lord Louell was then made vicount Louell, and the king his chamberleine, and the lord Stanleie was deliuered out of ward, for feare of his sonne the lord Strange, which was then in Lancashire, gathering men (as men said) and the said lord was made steward of the king his houshold: likewise the archbishop of Yorke was deliuered, but Morton bishop of Elie was committed to the duke of Buckingham to kéepe in ward, which sent him to his manour of Brecknocke in Wales, from whence he escaped to king Richard his confusion.

Seuentéene knights of the Bath created by king Richard.

What péers &c. states were attendant on him going to his coronation.

The same night, the king made seuentéene knights of the Bath, whose names insue: Sir Edmund the duke of Suffolks sonne, sir George Greie, the earle of Kents sonne, sir William, the lord Zouches sonne, sir Henrie Aburgauennie, sir Christopher Willoughbie, sir William Berkeleie, sir Henrie Babington, sir Thomas Arundell, sir Thomas Bologne, sir Gerueis of Clifton, sir William Saie, sir Edmund Bedingfield, sir William Enderbie, sir Thomas Lekenor, sir Thomas of Vrinon, sir Iohn Browne, sir William Berkeleie. The next daie, being the first daie of Iulie, the king rode through the citie of London toward Westminster with great pompe, being accompanied with these dukes, earles, lords, and knights, whose names follow. Edward prince of Wales, the kings onelie sonne. Dukes: the duke of Norffolke, the duke of Buckingham, the duke of Suffolke. Earles: the earle of Northumberland, the earle of Arundell, the earle of Kent, the earle of Surrie, the earle of Wilshire, the earle of Huntington, the earle of Nottingham, the earle of Warwike, the earle of Lincolne. Lords: the lord Lisle vicount, the lord Louell vicount, the lord Stanleie, the lord Audleie, the lord Dacres, the lord Ferrers of Chertleie, the lord Powes, the lord Scroope of Vpsall, the lord Scroope of Bolton, the lord Greie Codner, the lord Greie of Wilton, the lord Sturton, the lord Cobham, the lord Morleie, the lord Aburgauennie, the lord Zouch, the lord Ferrers of Grobie, the lord Welles, the lord Lomleie, the lord Matreuers, the lord Herbert, the lord Becham. Knights: sir Iames Tirell, sir William Kneuet, sir Thomas Aborow, sir William Stanleie, sir William Aparre, sir George Browne, sir Robert Middleton, sir Iohn Henningham, sir Nicholas Latimer, sir Thomas Montgomerie, sir Thomas Delamer, sir Gilbert Debnam, sir Terrie Robsart, sir William Brandon, sir Iohn Sauell, sir Henrie Wentford, sir Edward Stanleie, sir Henrie Sentmount, sir William Yoong, sir Thomas Bowser, sir Henrie Winkefield, sir Thomas Wortleie, sir Iohn Sentlow, sir Charles of Pilkington, sir Iames Harrington, sir Iohn Ashleie, sir Thomas Berkeleie, sir Richard Becham, sir William Hopton, sir Thomas Persie, sir Robert Dimmocke, sir Iohn Cheinie, sir Richard Ludlow, sir Iohn Eldrington, sir William Sands, sir Richard Dudleie, sir William Sentlow, sir Tho. Twaights, sir Edmund of Dudleie, sir Rafe Ashton, sir Richard Charlington, sir Thomas Greie, sir Philip Berkeleie, sir Robert Harington, sir Thomas Greffleie, sir Richard Harecourt, sir William Noris, sir Thomas Selenger, sir Richard Hodlesten, sir Iohn Conias, sir William Stoner, sir Philip Courtneie, sir William Gascoigne, sir Richard Amedilton, sir Roger Fines, sir George Véere, sir Henrie Persie, sir Iohn Wood, sir Iohn Aparre, sir Iohn Greie, sir Iohn Danbie, sir Richard Tailebush, sir Iohn Rudet, sir Iohn Herring, sir Richard Enderbie, sir Iohn Berkeleie, sir Iames Stranguish, sir Rafe Carnbrecke, sir Iohn Constable, sir Robert Eliard, sir Richard Derell, sir Iohn Gilford, sir Iohn Lekenor, sir Iohn Morleie, sir Iohn Hues, sir Iohn Bologne, sir Edmund Shaw alderman.

The solemne ceremonies vsed at king Richards coronation.

On the morow, being the sixt daie of Iulie, the king with quéene Anne his wife, came downe out of the White hall into the great hall at Westminster, and went directlie into the kings Bench. And from thense, the king and the quéene going vpon raie cloth barefooted, went vnto saint Edwards shrine, and all his nobilitie going with him, euerie lord in his degrée. And first went the trumpets, and then the heralds of armes in their rich coats, & next followed the crosse with a solemne procession, the priests hauing fine surplisses and graie amisses vpon them. The abbats and bishops mitred and in rich copes, & euerie of them caried their crosiers in their hands. The bishop of Rochester bare the crosse before the cardinall. Then followed the earle of Huntington bearing a paire of gilt spurres, signifieng knighthood. Then followed the earle of Bedford bearing saint Edwards staffe for a relike.

After them came the earle of Northumberland bareheaded, with the pointlesse sword naked in his hand, which signified mercie. The lord Stanleie bare the mace of the constableship. The earle of Kent bare the second sword on the right hand of the king naked, with a point, which signified iustice vnto the temporaltie. The lord Louell bare the third sword on the left hand with a point, which signified iustice to the cleargie. The duke of Suffolke followed with the scepter in his hand, which signified peace. The earle of Lincolne bare the ball and crosse, which signified monarchie. The erle of Surrie bare the fourth sword before the king in a rich scabberd, and that is called the sword of estate. Then went thrée togither, in the middest went Garter king at armes in his rich cote: and on his left hand went the maior of London, bearing a mace: and on his right hand went the gentleman vsher of the priuie chamber. Then followed the duke of Norffolke, bearing the kings crowne betwéene his hands.

Quéene Anne wife to king Richard and daughter to Richard earle of Warwike and his traine.

Then followed king Richard in his robes of purple veluet, and ouer his head a canopie, borne by foure barons of the cinque ports. And on euerie side of the king there went one bishop, that is to saie, the bishop of Bath, and the bishop of Durham. Then followed the duke of Buckingham bearing the kings traine, with a white staffe in his hand, signifieng the office of the high steward of England. Then there followed a great number of earles and barons before the quéene. And then came the earle of Huntington, who bare the quéenes scepter, and the vicount Lisle bearing the rod with the doue. And the earle of Wilshire bare the quéenes crowne. Then followed quéene Anne daughter to Richard earle of Warwike in robes like to the king, betwéene two bishops, and a canopie ouer hir head borne by the barons of the ports. On hir head a rich coronet set with stones and pearle.

The king & quéene crowned.

After hir followed the countesse of Richmond heire to the duke of Summerset, which bare vp the quéenes traine. After followed the duchesse of Suffolke and Norffolke, with countesses, baronesses, ladies, and manie faire gentlewomen. In this order they passed through the palace, and entered the abbeie at the west end; and so came to their seats of estate. And after diuerse songs solemnelie soong, they both ascended to the high altar, and were shifted from their robes, and had diuerse places open from the middle vpward, in which places they were annointed. Then both the king and the quéene changed them into cloth of gold, and ascended to their seats, where the cardinall of Canturburie, & other bishops them crowned according to the custome of the realme, giuing him the scepter in the left hand, & the ball with the crosse in the right hand; and the quéene had the scepter in hir right hand, and the rod with the doue in her left hand.

On euerie side of the king stood a duke, and before him stood the earle of Surrie with the sword in his hands. And on euerie side of the quéene standing a bishop, & a ladie knéeling. The cardinal soong masse, and after pax, the king and the quéene descended, and before the high altar they were both houseled, with one host diuided betwéene them. After masse finished, they both offered at saint Edward his shrine, and there the king left the crowne of saint Edward, and put on his owne crowne. And so in order as they came, they departed to Westminster hall; and so to their chambers for a season: during which time the duke of Norffolke came into the hall, his horsse trapped to the ground in cloth of gold, as high marshall, and voided the hall. About foure of the clocke, the king and quéene entered the hall, and the king sate in the middle, and the quéene on the left hand of the table, and on euerie side of hir stood a countesse, holding a cloth of pleasance, when she list to drinke.

And on the right hand of the king sat the bishop of Canturburie. The ladies sat all on one side, in the middle of the hall. And at the table against them sat the chancellor and all the lords. At the table next the cupboord, sat the maior of London; and at the table behind the lords, sat the barons of the ports: and at the other tables sat noble and worshipfull personages. When all persons were set, the duke of Norffolke earle marshall, the earle of Surrie, constable for that daie, the lord Stanlie lord steward, sir William Hopton treasurer, & sir Thomas Persie controller, came in and serued the king solemnelie, with one dish of gold, and an other of siluer, and the quéene all in gilt vessell, and the bishop all in siluer.

Sir Robert Dimmocke the kings champion his challenge in the behalfe of king Richard.

At the second course came into the hall sir Robert Dimmocke the kings champion, making proclamation, that whosoeuer would saie, that king Richard was not lawfull king, he would fight with him at the vtterance, and threw downe his gantlet, and then all the hall cried; king Richard. And so he did in thrée parts of the hall, and then one brought him a cup of wine couered, and when he had drunke, he cast out the drinke, and departed with the cup. After that, the heralds cried a largesse thrise in the hall, and so went vp to their stage. At the end of dinner, the maior of London serued the king & quéene with swéete wine, and had of each of them a cup of gold, with a couer of gold. And by that time that all was doone, it was darke night. And so the king returned to his chamber, and euerie man to his lodging.

A gaie pretense of iustice and equitie.

When this feast was thus finished, the king sent home all the lords into their countries that would depart, except the lord Stanleie, whom he reteined, till he heard what his sonne the lord Strange went about. And to such as went home, he gaue streight charge and commandement, to sée their countries well ordered, and that no wrong nor extortion should be doone to his subiects. And thus he taught other to execute iustice and equitie, the contrarie whereof he dailie exercised. He also with great rewards giuen to the Northernemen, which he sent for to his coronation, sent them home to their countrie with great thanks: whereof diuerse of them (as they be all of nature verie gréedie of authoritie, & speciallie when they thinke to haue anie comfort or fauour) tooke on them so highlie, and wrought such maisteries, that the king was faine to ride thither in his first yeare, and to put some in execution, and staie the countrie, or else no small mischéefe had insued.

Sir Thomas More againe.

Perkin Werbecke.

Now fell there mischéefs thicke. And as the thing euill gotten is neuer well kept, thorough all the time of his reigne neuer ceassed there cruell death and slaughter, till his owne destruction ended it. But as he finished his time with the best death and the most righteous, that is to wit, his owne; so began he with the most pitious and wicked, I meane the lamentable murther of his innocent nephues, the yoong king and his tender brother: whose death and finall infortune hath naitheless comen so farre in question, that some remaine yet in doubt, whether they were in his daies destroied or no. Not for that onelie that Perkin Werbecke by manie folks malice, and mo folks follie, so long space abusing the world, was as well with princes as the poorer people reputed and taken for the yoonger of these two; but for that also that all things were in late daies so couertlie demeaned, one thing pretended, and an other meant.

Close dealing is euer suspected.

Insomuch that there was nothing so plaine and openlie prooued, but that yet for the common custome of close and couert dealing, men had it euer inwardlie suspect; as manie well counterfaited iewels make the true mistrusted. Howbeit, concerning the opinion, with the occasions moouing either partie, we shall haue place more at large to intreat, if we hereafter happen to write the time of the late noble prince of famous memorie king Henrie the seauenth, or percase that historie of Perkin in anie compendious processe by it selfe. But in the meane time, for this present matter, I shall rehearse you the dolorous end of those babes, not after euerie waie that I haue heard, but after that waie, that I haue so heard by such men and by such meanes, as me thinketh it were hard but it should be true.

Iohn Gréene.

Robert Brakenberie constable of the Tower.

King Richard after his coronation, taking his waie to Glocester to visit (in his new honour) the towne of which he bare the name of his old, deuised (as he rode) to fulfill the thing which he before had intended. And forsomuch as his mind gaue him, that his nephues liuing, men would not reckon that he could haue right to the realme: he thought therefore without delaie to rid them, as though the killing of his kinsmen could amend his cause, and make him a kindlie king. Whervpon he sent one Iohn Gréene, (whom he speciallie trusted) vnto sir Robert Brakenberie, constable of the Tower, with a letter and credence also, that the same sir Robert should in anie wise put the two children to death.

The murther of the two young princes set abroch.

Sir Iames Tirrell described.

This Iohn Gréene did his errand vnto Brakenberie, knéeling before our ladie in the Tower. Who plainelie answered, that he would neuer put them to death to die therefore. With which answer Iohn Gréene returning, recounted the same to king Richard at Warwike yet in his waie. Wherewith he tooke such displeasure & thought, that the same night he said vnto a secret page of his: "Ah! whom shall a man trust? Those that I haue brought vp my selfe, those that I had wéent would most suerlie serue me, euen those faile me, and at my commandement will doo nothing for me." "Sir (quoth his page) there lieth one on your pallet without, that I dare well saie, to doo your grace pleasure, the thing were right hard that he would refuse." Meaning this by sir Iames Tirrell, which was a man of right goodlie personage, and for natures gifts worthie to haue serued a much better prince, if he had well serued God, and by grace obteined as much truth and good will as he had strength and wit.

Authoritie loueth no partners.

The man had an high heart, & sore longed vpward, not rising yet so fast as he had hoped, being hindered & kept vnder by the meanes of sir Richard Ratcliffe, and sir William Catesbie, which longing for no mo parteners of the princes fauour; and namelie, not for him, whose pride they wist would beare no péere, kept him by secret drifts out of all secret trust, which thing this page well had marked and knowne. Wherefore this occasion offered, of verie speciall friendship he tooke his time to put him forward, and by such wise doo him good, that all the enimies he had (except the deuill) could neuer haue doone him so much hurt. For vpon this pages words king Richard arose (for this communication had he sitting at the draught, a conuenient carpet for such a councell) and came out into the pallet chamber, on which he found in bed sir Iames and sir Thomas Tirrels, of person like, and brethren of bloud, but nothing of kin in conditions.

The constable of the Tower deliuereth the keies to sir Iames Tirrell vpon the kings commandement.

Then said the king merilie to them; What sirs, be ye in bed so soone? And calling vp sir Iames, brake to him secretlie his mind in this mischéeuous matter. In which he found him nothing strange. Wherefore on the morow he sent him to Brakenberie with a letter, by which he was commanded to deliuer sir Iames all the keies of the Tower for one night, to the end he might there accomplish the kings pleasure, in such things as he had giuen him commandement. After which letter deliuered, & the keies receiued, sir Iames appointed the night next insuing to destroie them, deuising before and preparing the meanes. The prince (as soone as the protector left that name, and tooke himselfe as king) had it shewed vnto him, that he should not reigne, but his vncle shuld haue the crowne. At which word the prince sore abashed, began to sigh, and said: Alas, I would my vncle would let me haue my life yet, though I léese my kingdome.

The two princes shut vp in close hold.

The two murtherers of the two princes appointed.

Then he that told him the tale, vsed him with good words, and put him in the best comfort he could. But foorthwith was the prince and his brother both shut vp, & all other remooued from them, onelie one (called Blacke Will, or William Slaughter) excepted, set to serue them and sée them sure. After which time the prince neuer tied his points, nor ought rought of himselfe; but with that yoong babe his brother, lingered with thought and heauinesse, vntill this traitorous death deliuered them of that wretchednesse. For sir Iames Tirrell deuised, that they should be murthered in their beds. To the execution whereof, he appointed Miles Forrest, one of the foure that kept them, a fellow fleshed in murther before time. To him he ioined one Iohn Dighton his owne horssekéeper, a big, broad, square, and strong knaue.

The yoong K. and his brother murthered in their beds at midnight in the Tower.

Then all the other being remooued from them, this Miles Forrest, and Iohn Dighton, about midnight (the séelie children lieng in their beds) came into the chamber, & suddenlie lapping them vp among the clothes, so to bewrapped them and intangled them, kéeping downe by force the fether-bed and pillowes hard vnto their mouths, that within a while, smoothered and stifled, their breath failing, they gaue vp to God their innocent soules into the ioies of heauen, leauing to the tormentors their bodies dead in the bed. Which after that the wretches perceiued, first by the strugling with the paines of death, and after long lieng still, to be thoroughlie dead, they laid their bodies naked out vpon the bed, and fetched sir Iames to sée them; which vpon the sight of them, caused those murtherers to burie them at the staire foot, méetlie déepe in the ground, vnder a great heape of stones.

The murther confessed.

Then rode sir Iames in great hast to king Richard, and shewed him all the maner of the murther; who gaue him great thanks, and (as some saie) there made him knight. But he allowed not (as I haue heard) the burieng in so vile a corner, saieng, that he would haue them buried in a better place, bicause they were a kings sonnes. Lo the honourable courage of a king. Whervpon they saie, that a priest of sir Robert Brakenberies tooke vp the bodies againe, and secretlie interred them in such place, as by the occasion of his death, which onelie knew it, could neuer since come to light. Verie truth is it, and well knowne, that at such time as sir Iames Tirrell was in the Tower, for treason committed against the most famous prince king Henrie the seauenth, both Dighton and he were examined, and confessed the murther in maner aboue written: but whither the bodies were remooued, they could nothing tell.

And thus (as I haue learned of them that much knew, and little cause had to lie) were these two noble princes, these innocent tender children, borne of most roiall bloud, brought vp in great wealth, likelie long to liue, reigne, and rule in the realme, by traitorous tyrannie taken, depriued of their estate, shortlie shut vp in prison, and priuilie slaine and murthered, their bodies cast God wot where, by the cruell ambition of their vnnaturall vncle and his despiteous tormentors. Which things on euerie part well pondered, God neuer gaue this world a more notable example, neither in what vnsuertie standeth this worldlie weale; or what mischéefe worketh the proud enterprise of an high heart; or finallie, what wretched end insueth such despiteous crueltie.

The iust judgement of God seuerelie reuenging the murther of the innocent princes vpon the malefactors.

For first, to begin with the ministers, Miles Forrest, at S. Martins péecemeale rotted awaie. Dighton in déed yet walketh on aliue in good possibilitie to be hanged yer he die. But sir Iames Tirrell died at the Tower hill beheaded for treason. King Richard himselfe, as ye shall hereafter heare, slaine in the field, hacked and hewed of his enimies hands, haried on horsse-backe dead, his haire in despite torne and tugged like a curre dog; and the mischéefe that he tooke, within lesse than thrée yeares of the mischéefe that he did: and yet all (in the meane time) spent in much paine & trouble outward, much feare, anguish and sorow within. For I haue heard by credible report of such as were secret with his chamberleine, that after this abominable déed doone, he neuer had a quiet mind. Than the which there can be no greater torment. For a giltie conscience inwardlie accusing and bearing witnesse against an offender, is such a plague and punishment, as hell itselfe (with all the féends therein) can not affoord one of greater horror & affliction; the poet implieng no lesse in this tristichon:

Pers. sat. 3.

The outward and inward troubles of tyrants by meanes of a grudging conscience.

He neuer thought himselfe sure. Where he went abroad, his eies whirled about, his bodie priuilie fensed, his hand euer vpon his dagger, his countenance and maner like one alwaies readie to strike againe, he tooke ill rest a nights, laie long waking and musing, sore wearied with care and watch, rather slumbered than slept, troubled with fearefull dreames, suddenlie sometime start vp, lept out of his bed, and ran about the chamber; so was his restlesse heart continuallie tossed and tumbled with the tedious impression and stormie remembrance of his abhominable déed. Now had he outward no long time in rest. For herevpon, soone after began the conspiracie, or rather good confederation, betwéene the duke of Buckingham and manie other gentlemen against him. The occasion wherevpon the king and the duke fell out, is of diuerse folke in diuerse wise pretended.

This duke (as I haue for certeine béene informed) as soone as the duke of Glocester, vpon the death of king Edward, came to Yorke, and there had solemne funerall seruice for king Edward, sent thither in the most secret wise he could, one [1]Persall his trustie seruant, who came to Iohn Ward a chamberer of like secret trust with the duke of Glocester, desiring that in the most close and couert maner, he might be admitted to the presence and spéech of his maister. And the duke of Glocester aduertised of his desire, caused him in the dead of the night (after all other folke auoided) to be brought vnto him in his secret chamber, where Persall (after his maisters recommendations) shewed him that he had secret sent him to shew him, that in this new world he would take such part as he would, & wait vpon him with a thousand good fellowes, if néed were.

The messenger sent backe with thanks, & some secret instruction of the protectors mind, yet met him againe with further message from the duke his master within few daies after at Notingham: whither the protector from Yorke with manie gentlemen of the north countrie, to the number of six hundred horsses, was come on his waie to London-ward, & after secret méeting and communication had, eftsoones departed. Wherevpon at Northampton, the duke met with the protector himselfe with thrée hundred horsses, and from thence still continued with him partner of all his deuises; till that after his coronation, they departed (as it séemed) verie great fréends at Glocester. From whense as soone as the duke came home, he so lightlie turned from him, and so highlie conspired against him, that a man would maruell whereof the change grew. And suerlie, the occasion of their variance is of diuerse men diuerselie reported.

Causes of the duke of Buckingham and K. Richards falling out.

Some haue I heard say, that the duke a little before his coronation, among other things, required of the protector the duke of Herefords lands, to the which he pretended himselfe iust inheritor. And forsomuch as the title, which he claimed by inheritance, was somwhat interlaced with the title to the crowne by the line of king Henrie before depriued, the protector conceiued such indignation, that he reiected the dukes request with manie spitefull and minatorie words. Which so wounded his heart with hatred and mistrust, that he neuer after could indure to looke aright on king Richard, but euer feared his owne life; so far foorth, that when the protector rode through London toward his coronation, he feined himselfe sicke, bicause he would not ride with him. And the other also taking it in euill part, sent him word to rise, and come ride, or he would make him be caried. Wherevpon he rode on with euill will, and that notwithstanding on the morow, rose from the feast, feining himselfe sicke, and king Richard said it was doone in hatred and despite of him.

The duke of Buckingham and king Richard mistrust each other.

And they said, that euer after continuallie, each of them liued in such hatred and distrust of other, that the duke verelie looked to haue béene murthered at Glocester: from which nathelesse, he in faire maner departed. But suerlie some right secret at that daie denie this: and manie right wise men thinke it vnlikelie (the déepe dissembling nature of both those men considered, and what néed in that gréene world the protector had of the duke, and in what perill the duke stood, if he fell once in suspicion of the tyrant) that either the protector would giue the duke occasion of displeasure, or the duke the protector occasion of mistrust. And verelie, men thinke, that if king Richard had anie such opinion conceiued, he would neuer haue suffered him to escape his hands. Verie truth it is, the duke was an high minded man, and euill could beare the glorie of another; so that I haue heard of some that say they saw it, that the duke, at such time as the crowne was first set vpon the protectors head, his eie could not abide the sight thereof, but wried his head another way.

Doctor Morton bishop of Elie, & what pageants he plaied.

But men say, that he was of truth not well at ease, and that both to king Richard well knowne, and not euill taken; nor anie demand of the dukes vncourteouslie reiected; but he both with great gifts, and high behests, in most louing and trustie maner departed at Glocester. But soone after his comming home to Brecknocke, hauing there in his custodie by the commandement of king Richard doctor Morton bishop of Elie, who (as ye before heard) was taken in the councell at the Tower, waxed with him familiar, whose wisedome abused his pride to his owne deliuerance, and the dukes destruction. The bishop was a man of great naturall wit, verie well learned, and honorable in behauior, lacking no wise waies to win fauour. He had béene fast vpon the part of king Henrie, while that part was in wealth; and nathelesse left it not, nor forsooke it in wo, but fled the realme with the quéene & the prince, while king Edward had the king in prison, neuer came home, but to the field.

The high honour of doctor Morton.

After which lost, and that part vtterlie subdued, the other (for his fast faith and wisedome) not onelie was content to receiue him, but also wooed him to come, and had him from thencefoorth both in secret trust, and verie speciall fauour, which he nothing deceiued. For he being (as yée haue heard) after king Edwards death, first taken by the tyrant for his truth to the king, found the meane to set this duke in his top, ioined gentlemen togither in the aid of king Henrie, deuising first the mariage betwéene him & king Edwards daughter: by which his faith he declared the good seruice to both his masters at once, with infinit benefit to the realme by the coniunction of those two blouds in one, whose seuerall titles had long disquieted the land, he fled the realme, went to Rome, neuer minding more to meddle with the world; till the noble prince king Henrie the seuenth gat him home againe, made him archbishop of Canturburie, and chancellor of England, wherevnto the pope ioined the honour of cardinall. Thus liuing manie daies in as much honor as one man might well wish, ended them so godlie, that his death with Gods mercie well changed his life.

Bishop Mortons subtill vndermining of the duke.

This man therefore (as I was about to tell you) by the long & often alternate proofe, as well of prosperitie as aduerse fortune, had gotten by great experience (the verie mother and mistresse of wisedome) a déepe insight in politike worldlie drifts. Whereby perceiuing now this duke glad to commune with him, fed him with faire words, and manie pleasant praises. And perceiuing by the processe of their communications, the dukes pride now and then belking out a little breath of enuie toward the glorie of the king, and thereby féeling him easie to fall out if the matter were well handled: he craftilie sought the waies to pricke him forward, taking alwaies the occasion of his comming, and so kéeping himselfe so close within his bounds, that he rather séemed to follow him, than to lead him. For when the duke first began to praise and boast the king, and shew how much profit the realme should take by his reigne: my lord Morton answered thus.

Suerlie, my lord, follie were it for me to lie, for if I would sweare the contrarie, your lordship would not (I wéene) beléeue; but that if the world would haue gone as I would haue wished, king Henries sonne had had the crowne, and not king Edward. But after that God had ordered him to léese it, and king Edward to reigne, I was neuer so mad that I would with a dead man striue against the quicke. So was I to king Edward a faithfull chapleine, & glad would haue béene that his child had succéeded him. Howbeit, if the secret iudgment of God haue otherwise prouided, I purpose not to spurne against a pricke, nor labour to set vp that God pulleth downe. And as for the late protector and now king. And euen there he left, saieng that he had alreadie medled too much with the world, and would from that daie meddle with his booke and his beads, and no further.

Princes matters perillous to meddle in.

Then longed the duke sore to heare what he would haue said, bicause he ended with the king, and there so suddenlie stopped, and exhorted him so familiarlie betwéene them twaine to be bold to saie whatsoeuer he thought; whereof he faithfullie promised there should neuer come hurt, and peraduenture more good than he would wéene; and that himselfe intended to vse his faithfull secret aduise & counsell, which (he said) was the onelie cause for which he procured of the king to haue him in his custodie, where he might reckon himselfe at home, and else had he béene put in the hands of them with whome he should not haue found the like fauour. The bishop right humblie thanked him, and said: In good faith my lord, I loue not to talke much of princes, as a thing not all out of perill, though the word be without fault: forsomuch as it shall not be taken as the partie ment it, but as it pleaseth the prince to construe it.

And euer I thinke on Aesops tale, that when the lion had proclaimed that (on paine of death) there should no horned beast abide in that wood: one that had in his forehed a bunce of flesh, fled awaie a great pace. The fox that saw him run so fast, asked him whither he made all that hast? And he answered, In faith I neither wote, nor recke, so I were once hence, bicause of this proclamation made of horned beasts. What foole (quoth the fox) thou maiest abide well inough: the lion ment not by thée, for it is no horne that is in thine head. No marie (quoth he) that wote I well inough. But what and he call it an horne, where am I then? The duke laughed merilie at the tale, and said; My lord, I warrant you, neither the lion nor the bore shall pike anie matter at anie thing héere spoken: for it shall neuer come néere their eare.

In good faith sir (said the bishop) if it did, the thing that I was about to say, taken as well as (afore God) I ment it, could deserue but thanke: and yet taken as I wéene it would, might happen to turne me to little good, and you to lesser. Then longed the duke yet much more to wit what it was. Wherevpon the bishop said; In good faith (my lord) as for the late protector, sith he is now king in possession, I purpose not to dispute his title; but for the weale of this realme, whereof his grace hath now the gouernance, and whereof I am my selfe one poore member, I was about to wish, that to those good habilities whereof he hath alreadie right manie, little néeding my praise, it might yet haue pleased God, for the better store, to haue giuen him some of such other excellent vertues, méet for the rule of a realme, as our Lord hath planted in the person of your grace: and there left againe.

Here endeth sir Thomas More, & this that followeth is taken out of master Hall.

The duke somewhat maruelling at his sudden pauses, as though they were but parentheses, with a high countenance said: My lord, I euidentlie perceiue, and no lesse note your often breathing, and sudden stopping in your communication; so that to my intelligence, your words neither come to anie direct or perfect sentence in conclusion, whereby either I might perceiue and haue knowledge, what your inward intent is now toward the king, or what affection you beare toward me. For the comparison of good qualities ascribed to vs both (for the which I my selfe acknowledge and recognise to haue none, nor looke for no praise of anie creature for the same) maketh me not a little to muse, thinking that you haue some other priuie imagination, by loue or by grudge, ingrauen and imprinted in your heart, which for feare you dare not, or for childish shamefastnesse you be abashed to disclose and reueale; and speciallie to mée being your fréend, which on my honor doo assure you, to be as secret in this case, as the deafe and dumbe person is to the singer, or the trée to the hunter.

Bishop Morton buildeth vpō the dukes ambition.

The bishop being somewhat bolder, considering the dukes promise, but most of all animated and incouraged bicause he knew the duke desirous to bée exalted and magnified; and also he perceiued the inward hatred and priuie rancor which he bare toward king Richard: was now boldened to open his stomach euen to the verie bottome, intending thereby to compasse how to destroie, and vtterlie confound king Richard, and to depriue him of his dignitie roiall; else to set the duke so on fire with the desire of ambition, that he himselfe might be safe and escape out of all danger and perill. Which thing he brought shortlie to conclusion, both to the kings destruction, and the dukes confusion, and to his owne safegard, and finallie to his high promotion.

And so (as I said before) vpon trust and confidence of the dukes promise, the bishop said: My singular good lord, since the time of my captiuitie, which being in your graces custodie, I may rather call it a liberall libertie, more than a streict imprisonment, in auoiding idlenesse, mother and nourisher of all vices, in reading bookes and ancient pamphlets I haue found this sentence written, that no man is borne frée, and in libertie of himselfe onelie: for one part of dutie he oweth or should owe to his parents for his procreation, by a verie naturall instinct and filiall courtesie: another part to his fréends and kinsfolke; for proximitie of bloud and naturall amitie dooth euerie dutie chalenge and demand: but the natiue countrie, in the which he tasted first the swéet aires of this pleasant and flattering world after his natiuitie, demandeth as a debt by a naturall bond, neither to be forgotten, nor yet to be put in obliuion.

The duke of Buckingham highlie commended.

Which saieng causeth me to consider in what case this realme my natiue countrie now standeth, and in what estate and assurance (before this time) it hath continued: what gouernour we now haue, and what ruler we might haue. For I plainelie perceiue the realme being in this case, must néeds decaie, and be brought to vtter confusion, and finall extermination. But one hope I haue incorporat in my brest, that is, when I consider, and in my mind doo diligentlie remember, and dailie behold your noble personage, your iustice, and indifferencie, your feruent zeale, and ardent loue toward your naturall countrie, and in like manner, the loue of your countrie toward you, the great learning, pregnant wit, and goodlie eloquence, which so much dooth abound in the person of your grace, I must néeds thinke this realme fortunate, yea twise more than fortunate, which hath such a prince in store, méet and apt to be a gouernour, in whose person (being indued with so manie princelie qualities) consisteth and resteth the verie vndoubted similitude and image of true honour.

Dispraise of the lord protector or king in esse.

But on the other side, when I call to memorie the good qualities of the late protector and now called king, so violated and subuerted by tyrannie, so changed and altered by vsurped authoritie, so clouded and shadowed by blind and insatiable ambition: yea, and so suddenlie (in manner by a metamorphosis) transformed from politike ciuilitie, to detestable tyrannie: I must néeds saie, & iustlie affirme, that he is neither méet to be a king of so noble a realme, nor so famous a realme méet to be gouerned by such a tyrant whose kingdome (if it were of more amplenesse than it is) could not long continue; neither would the Lord suffer him in his bloudthirstines to abuse the holie and diuine estate of a prince by the cruell title of tyrannie. For such he will ouerthrow, yea he will bring most horrible slaughter vpō them, as it is prophesied:

Was not his first enterprise to obteine the crowne begun and incepted by the murther of diuerse noble, valiant true, and vertuous, personages? O holie beginning to come to a mischéeuous ending! Did he not secondarilie procéed (contrarie to all lawes of honestie) shamefullie against his owne naturall mother, being a woman of much honour and more vertue, declaring hir openlie to be a woman giuen to carnall affection, and dissolute liuing? Which thing if it had béene true, as it was not indéed, euerie good & naturall child would haue rather mummed at it, than haue blasted it abroad, and especiallie she being aliue. Declaring furthermore his two brethren, and his two nephues to be bastards, and to be borne in adulterie: yet was he not with all this content.

Suspicion in a prince how mischéefous it is.

After that he had obteined the garland, for the which he so long thirsted, he caused the two poore innocents his nephues, committed to him for especiall trust, to be murthered and shamefullie to be killed. The bloud of which séelie and litle babes dailie crie to God from the earth for vengeance. Alas, my hart sobbeth, to remember this bloudie butcher, and cruell monster. What suertie shall be in this realme to anie person, either for life or goods vnder such a cruell prince, which regardeth not the destruction of his owne bloud, and then lesse the losse of other? And most especiallie (as oftentimes it chanceth) where a couetous or a cruell prince taketh suspicion, the smallest swaruing that is possible (if the thing be misconstrued) may be the cause of the destruction of manie guiltlesse persons: and in especiall of noble and wealthie personages, hauing great possessions and riches: such a lord is Lucifer when he is entered into the hart of a proud prince, giuen to couetousnesse and crueltie.

But now my lord to conclude what I meane toward your noble person, I saie and affirme, if you loue God, your linage, or your natiue countrie, you must your selfe take vpon you the crowne and imperiall diademe of this noble empire, both for the maintenance of the honour of the same (which so long hath flourished in fame and renowme) as also for the deliuerance of your naturall countrimen, from the bondage and thraldome (woorse than the captiuitie of Aegypt) of so cruell a tyrant and arrogant oppressor. For thus I dare saie, if anie forren prince or potentate, yea the Turke himselfe would take vpon him the regiment here, and the crowne, the commons would rather admit and obeie him, than to liue vnder such a bloudsucker and child-killer. But how much more ioifull and glad would they be to liue vnder your grace, whome they all know to be a ruler méet and conuenient for them, and they to be louing and obedient subiects, méet to liue vnder such a gouernour? Despise not, nor forsake not so manifest an occasion so louinglie offered.

The bishop adiureth the duke to release the realme by some deuise from the present euill state.

And if you your selfe, knowing the paine and trauell that apperteineth to the office of a king, or for any other consideration, will refuse to take vpon you the crowne and scepter of this realme: then I adiure you, by the faith that you owe to God, by your honor and by your oth made to saint George, patrone or the noble order of the garter (whereof you be a companion) and by the loue and affection that you beare to your natiue countrie, and the people of the same; to deuise some waie, how this realme (now being in miserie) may by your high discretion and princelie policie, be brought and reduced to some suertie and conuenient regiment, vnder some good gouernour by you to be appointed: for you are the verie patrone, the onelie helpe, refuge and comfort for the poore amazed and desolate commons of this realme.

For if you could either deuise to set vp againe the linage of Lancaster, or aduance the eldest daughter of king Edward to some high and puissant prince, not onelie the new crowned king shall small time inioy the glorie of his dignitie; but also all ciuill war should ceasse, all domesticall discord should sléepe, and peace, profit and quietnesse should be set foorth and imbraced. When the bishop had thus ended his saieng, the duke sighed, and spake not of a great while. Which sore abashed the bishop, and made him change colour. Which thing when the duke perceiued, he said; Be not afraid my lord, all promises shall be kept, to morrow we will common more: let vs go to supper. So that night they communed no more, not a little to the disquieting of the bishop, which now was euen as desirous to know the dukes mind and intent, as the duke longed the daie before to know his opinion and meaning.

A new conferēnce betwéene the bishop and the duke.

So the next daie, the duke sent for the bishop, and rehearsed to him in maner (for he was both wittie and eloquent) all the communication had betwéene them before, and so paused a while, and after a little season, putting off his bonet, he said: O Lord God creator of all things, how much is this relme of England, and the people of the same, bounden vnto thy goodnesse! For where we now be in vexation and trouble with great stormes oppressed, sailing and tossing in a desperate ship, without good maister or gouernour: yet by thy helpe good Lord I trust yer long time passe, that we shall prouide for such a ruler, as shall be both to thy pleasure, and also to the securitie and safegard of this noble realme.

And then he put on his bonet, saieng to the bishop; My lord of Elie, whose true hart and sincere affection toward me at all times I haue euidentlie perceiued and knowen, and now most of all in our last priuie communication and secret deuising; I must néeds in hart thinke, and with mouth confesse and saie, that you be a sure fréend, a trustie councellor, a vigilant foreséer, a verie louer of your countrie, and a naturall countrieman: for which kindnes for my part, I most louinglie render to you my hartie thanks now with words, hereafter trusting to recompense and remunerate you with déeds, if life and power shall serue.

The duke openeth himselfe and his secrets to the bishop.

And sith, at our last communication, you haue disclosed and opened the verie secrets and priuities of your stomach, touching the duke of Glocester now vsurper of the crowne; and also haue a little touched the aduancement of the two noble families of Yorke and Lancaster: I shall likewise not onelie declare and manifest vnto you all my open acts, attempts, and doings, but also my priuie intents, and secret cogitations. To the intent that as you haue vnbuckeled the bouget of your priuie meanings, and secret purposes to me: so shall all my cloudie workings, close deuises, and secret imaginations be (as cléere as the sunne) reuealed, opened, and made lightsome to you.

The duke complaineth of want of preferment in king Edwards daies.

And to begin, I declare, that when king Edward was deceassed, to whome I thought my selfe little or nothing beholden (although we two had maried two sisters) bicause he neither promoted, nor preferred me, as I thought I was worthie, and had deserued; neither fauoured nor regarded me, according to my degrée and birth (for suerlie I had by him little authoritie, and lesse rule, and in effect nothing at all: which caused me lesse to fauour his children, bicause I found small humanitie, or none in their parent) I then began to studie, and with ripe deliberation to ponder and consider, how and in what manner this realme should be ruled and gouerned. And first I remembred an old prouerbe worthie of memorie, that often rueth the realme where children rule, and women gouerne.

This old adage so sanke and settled in my head, that I thought it a great errour, and extreame mischiefe to the whole realme, either to suffer the yoong king to rule, or the quéene his mother to be a gouernesse ouer him, considering that hir brethren, and hir first children (although they were not extract of high and noble linage) tooke more vpon them, and more exalted themselues, by reason of the quéene, than did the kings brethren, or anie duke in his realme: which in conclusion turned to their confusion. Then I being persuaded with my selfe in this point, thought it necessarie both for the publike and profitable wealth of this realme, and also for mine owne commoditie and emolument, to take part with the duke of Glocester; whom (I assure you) I thought to be as cleane without dissimulation, as tractable without iniurie, as mercifull without crueltie; as now I know him perfectlie to be a dissembler without veritie, a tyrant without pitie, yea & worse than the tyrant Phalaris, destitute of all truth and clemencie.

And so by my meanes, at the first councell holden at London, when he was most suspected of that thing that after happened (as you my lord know well inough) he was made protector and defendor both of the king and of the realme, which authoritie once gotten, & the two children partlie by [2]policie brought vnder his gouernance, he being mooued with that gnawing and couetous serpent desire to reigne, neuer ceassed priuilie to exhort and require, yea and sometimes with minatorie tearmes to persuade me and other lords, as well spirituall as temporall, that he might take vpon him the crowne, till the prince came to the age of foure and twentie yeares, and were able to gouerne the realme, as a ripe and sufficient king.

Which thing when he saw me somewhat sticke at, both for the strangenesse of the example (bicause no such president had béene séene) and also bicause we remembred that men once ascended to the highest type of honour and authoritie, will not gladlie descend againe; he then brought in instruments, autentike doctors, proctors, and notaries of the law, with depositions of diuerse witnesses, testifieng king Edwards children to be bastards. Which depositions then I thought to be as true, as now I know them to be feined; and testified by persons with rewards vntrulie suborned. When the said depositions were before vs read and diligentlie heard, he stood vp bareheaded, saieng: Well my lords, euen as I and you (sage and discréet councellors) would that my nephue should haue no wrong; so I preie you doo me nothing but right. For these witnesses & saiengs of famous doctors being true, I am onelie the vndubitate heire to lord Richard Plantagenet duke of Yorke, adiudged to be the verie heire to the crowne of this relme by authoritie of parlement.

Which things so by learned men to vs for a veritie declared, caused me and other to take him for our lawfull and vndoubted prince and souereigne lord. For well we knew that the duke of Clarence sonne, by reason of the atteindor of his father, was disabled to inherit; and also the duke himselfe was named to be a bastard, as I my selfe haue heard spoken, and that vpon great presumptions more times than one: so againe, by my aid and fauour, he of a protector was made a king, and of a subiect made a gouernor. At which time he promised me on his fidelitie (laieng his hand in mine at Bainards castell) that the two yoong princes should liue, and that he would so prouide for them and so mainteine them in honorable estate, that I and all the realme ought and should be content. But his words wanted weight, which is a foule discredit to a prince, to a péere, yea to a priuat and meane common man, as testifieth this sentence:

The principall cause why the duke of Buckingham cōnceiued such inward grudge against king Richard.

For when he was once crowned king, and in full possession of the whole realme, he cast awaie his old conditions as the adder dooth hir skin, verifieng the old prouerbe; Honours change manners, as the parish préest remembreth that he was neuer parish clearke. For when I my selfe sued vnto him for my part of the earle of Herefords lands which his brother king Edward wrongfullie deteined and withheld from me; and also required to haue the office of the high constableship of England, as diuerse of my noble ancestors before this time haue had, and in long descent continued: in this my first sute shewing his good mind toward me; he did not onelie first delaie me, and afterward denaie me, but gaue me such vnkind words, with such tawnts & retawnts, ye in manner checke and checkemate, to the vttermost proofe of my patience: as though I had neuer furthered him, but hindered him; as though I had put him downe, and not set him vp.

Yet all these ingratitudes and vndeserued vnkindnesses I bare closelie, & suffered patientlie, and couertlie remembred, outwardlie dissembling that I inwardlie thought: and so with a painted countenance, I passed the last summer in his last companie, not without manie faire promises, but without anie good déeds. But when I was crediblie informed of the death of the two yoong innocents, his owne naturall nephues contrarie to his faith and promise, to the which (God be my iudge) I neuer agréed, nor condescended; O Lord, how my veines panted, how my bodie trembled, and how my heart inwardlie grudged! insomuch that I so abhorred the sight, and much more the companie of him, that I could no longer abide in his court, except I should be openlie reuenged: the end whereof was doubtfull. And so I feined a cause to depart, and with a merrie countenance and a despitefull heart I tooke my leaue humblie of him (he thinking nothing lesse than that I was displeased) and so returned to Brecknocke to you.

The imaginations of the duke of Buckingham to depriue K. Richard.

But in that iournie (as I returned) whither it were by the inspiration of the Holie-ghost, or by melancholious disposition, I had diuerse and sundrie imaginations how to depriue this vnnaturall vncle, and bloudie butcher, from his roiall seat, and princelie dignitie. First I fantised, that if I list to take vpon me the crowne, and imperiall scepter of the realme, now was the time propice and conuenient. For now was the waie made plaine, and the gate opened, and occasion giuen: which now neglected, should peraduenture neuer take such effect and conclusion. For I saw he was disdeined of the lords temporall, abhored and accurssed of the lords spirituall, detested of all gentlemen, and despised of all the communaltie: so that I saw my chance as perfectlie as I saw mine owne image in a glasse, that there was no person (if I had béen gréedie to attempt the enterprise) could nor should haue woone the ring, or got the gole before me. And on this point I rested in imagination secretlie with my selfe two daies at Tewkesburie.

Note the working of ambition in the duke.

From thence so iournieng, I mused and thought that it was not best nor conuenient to take vpon me as a conqueror. For then I knew that all men, and especiallie the nobilitie, would with all their power withstand me, both for rescuing of possessions and tenures, as also for subuerting of the whole estate, laws and customes of the realme: such a power hath a conqueror, as you know well inough my lord. But at the last, in all this doubtfull case there sprang a new branch out of my head, which suerlie I thought should haue brought forth faire floures; but the sunne was so hot, that they turned to drie wéeds. For I suddenlie remembred that the lord Edmund duke of Summerset my grandfather, was with king Henrie the sixt in the two and thrée degrées, from Iohn duke of Lancaster lawfullie begotten: so that I thought sure, my mother being eldest daughter to duke Edmund, that I was next heire to king Henrie the sixt of the house of Lancaster.

This title pleased well such as I made priuie of my counsell, but much more it incouraged my foolish desire, and eleuated my ambitious intent; insomuch that I cléerelie iudged, and in mine owne mind was determinatlie resolued, that I was indubitate heire of the house of Lancaster, and therevpon concluded to make my first foundation, and erect my new building. But whether God so ordeined, or by fortune it so chanced, while I was in a maze either to conclude suddenlie on this title, & to set it open amongst the common people, or to kéepe it secret a while, sée the chance: as I rode betwéene Worcester and Bridgenorth, I incountered with the ladie Margaret countesse of Richmond, now wife vnto the lord Stanlie, which is the verie daughter and sole heire to lord Iohn duke of Summerset, my grandfathers elder brother, which was as cleane out of my mind, as though I had neuer séene hir: so that she and hir sonne the earle of Richmond be both bulworke and portcullice betwéene me and the gate, to enter into the maiestie roiall and getting of the crowne.

The office of a king verie hard to discharge.

Now when we had communed a little concerning hir sonne, as I shall shew you after, and were departed, shée to our ladie of Worcester, and I to Shrewsburie: I then new changed, and in maner amazed, began to dispute with my selfe, little considering that thus my earnest title was turned to a tittell not so good as Est Amen. Eftsoones I imagined whether were best to take vpon me, by election of the nobilitie and communaltie, which me thought easie to be done, the vsurper king thus being in hatred and abhorred of this whole realme; or to take it by power, which, standeth in fortunes chance, and difficile to be atchiued and brought to passe. Thus tumbling and tossing in the waues of ambiguitie, betwéene the stone and the sacrifice, I considered first, the office, dutie, and paine of a king, which suerlie thinke I that no mortall man can iustlie and trulie obserue, except he be called, elected, and speciallie appointed by God as K. Dauid, and diuerse other haue béene.

But further, I remembred that if I once tooke on me the scepter, and the gouernance of the realme; that of two extreame enimies I was dailie sure, but of one trustie friend (which now a daies be gone a pilgrimage) I was neither assured nor crediblie ascerteined; such is the worlds mutation. For I manifestlie perceiued, that the daughters of king Edward, and their alies and fréends, which be no small number, being both for his sake much beloued, and also for the great iniurie & manifest tyrannie doone to them by the new vsurper, much lamented and pitied, would neuer ceasse to barke if they cannot bite at the one side of me. Semblablie, my coosine the earle of Richmond, his aids and kinsfolks, which be not of little power, will suerlie attempt like a fierce greihound, either to bite or to pearse me on the other side. So that my life and rule should euer hang by a haire, neuer in quiet, but euer in doubt of death, or deposition.

The dukes resolution not to medle in séeking to obteine the crowne.

And if the said two linages of Yorke and Lancaster, which so long haue striued for the imperiall diadem, should ioine in one against me, then were I suerlie mated, and the game gotten. Wherefore I haue cléerelie determined, and with my selfe concluded, vtterlie to relinquish all such fantasticall imaginations, concerning the obteining of the crowne. But all such plagues, calamities and troubles, which I feared and suspected might haue chanced on me if I had taken the rule and regiment of this realme, I shall with a reredemaine so make them rebound to our common enimie that calleth himselfe king, that the best stopper that he hath at tenice shall not well stop without a fault.

For (as I told you before) the countesse of Richmond in my returne from the new named king, méeting me in the high waie, praied me first for kindred sake, secondarilie for the loue that I bare to my grandfather duke Humfrie, which was sworne brother to hir father, to mooue the king to be good to hir sonne Henrie earle of Richmond, and to licence him with his fauour to returne againe into England. And if it were his pleasure so to doo, she promised that the earle hir sonne should marrie one of king Edwards daughters, at the appointment of the king, without anie thing to be taken or demanded for the said espousals, but onelie the kings fauour; which request I soone ouerpassed, and gaue hir faire words, and so departed.

But after in my lodging, when I called to memorie with a deliberate studie, and did circumspectlie ponder them, I fullie adiudged, that the Holie-ghost caused hir to mooue a thing (the end whereof she could not consider) both for the securitie of the realme, as also for the preferment of hir child, and the destruction and finall confusion of the common enimie king Richard. Which thing, she neither then thought (I am sure) as I by hir words could make coniecture, nor I my selfe cast not hir desire to be so profitable to the realme as I now doo perceiue. But such a Lord is God, that with a little sparkle he kindleth a great fire, and (to the admiration of the world) of impossibilities he maketh possibilities, of small beginnings mightie increasings, of drops great flouds.

The duke of Buckingham resolued to helpe to depose king Richard, and to prefer the erle of Richmond to the crowne.

And so finallie to declare to you the verie conclusion to the which I am both bent and set, my mind is, and my power and pursse shall helpe, that the earle of Richmond, verie heire of the house of Lancaster (in the quarrell of the which linage, both my father and grandfather lost their liues in battell) shall take to wife ladie Elizabeth eldest daughter to king Edward, by the which mariage both the houses of Yorke and Lancaster may be ioined and vnited in one, to the cléere establishment of the title to the crowne of this noble relme. To which conclusion if the mothers of both parts, and especiallie the earle himselfe, and the ladie will agrée: I doubt not but the[3] bragging bore, which with his tuskes raseth euerie mans skin, shall not onelie be brought to confusion (as he hath deserued) but that this empire shall euer be certeine of an vndubitate heire, & then shall all ciuill and intestine warre cease, which so long hath continued to the paring of manie mens crownes, and this realme shall be reduced againe to quietnesse, renowme and glorie.

The summe of the dukes purpose.

This inuention of the duke manie men thought after, that it was more imagined for the inward hatred that he bare to king Richard, than for anie fauor that he bare to the earle of Richmond. But of such doubtfull matter it is not best to iudge, for erring too farre from the mind and intent of the author. But what soeuer he intended, this deuise once opened to king Richard was the verie occasion, that he was rounded shorter by the whole head, without attaindor or iudgement. When the duke had said, the bishop which fauoured euer the house of Lancaster, was woonderous ioifull, and much reioised to heare this deuise. For now came the wind about euen as he would haue it, sith all his imagination tended to this effect, to haue king Richard subdued, and to haue the lines of king Edward, and king Henrie the sixt againe raised and aduanced.

The motion for the coniunction of the two houses of Lancaster & Yorke (deuised by the duke) furthered.

But lord how he reioised, to thinke how that by this marriage the linages of Yorke and Lancaster should be conioined in one, to the verie stedfastnesse of the publike wealth of this realme. And least the dukes courage should swage, or his mind should againe alter, as it did often before (as you may easilie perceiue by his owne tale) he thought to set vp all the sailes that he had, to the intent that the ship of his pretended purpose might come shortlie to some sure port, and said to the duke: My lord, sith by Gods prouision and your incomparable wisedome and policie, this noble coniunction is first mooued, now is it conuenient, yea and necessarie, to consider what personages, and what fréends we shall first make priuie of this high deuise and politike conclusion: [which is not rashlie & without aduisement to be aduentured, for therin is danger, as the wiseman saith:

By my truth, quoth the duke, we will begin with the ladie Richmond, the earles mother, which knoweth where he is, either in captiuitie, or at large in Britaine. For I heard saie, that the duke of Britaine restored him to libertie, immediatlie after the death of king Edward, by whose means he was restreined. Sith you will begin that waie (said the bishop) I haue an old fréend with the countesse, a man sober, secret, and well witted, called Reginald Braie: whose prudent policie I haue knowne to haue compassed things of great importance, for whome I shall secretlie send, if it be your pleasure; and I doubt not but he will gladlie come and that with a good will. So with a little diligence the bishop wrote a letter to Reginald Braie, requiring him to come to Brecknocke with spéed, for great and vrgent causes touching his mistresse: and no other thing was declared in the letter. So the messenger rode into Lancashire where Braie was with the countesse, and lord Thomas Stanlie hir husband, and deliuered the letter: which when he had read, he tooke it as a signe or presage of some good fortune to come.

Then he (with the messenger) came to the castell of Brecknocke, where the duke and the bishop declared what thing was deuised, both for to set the relme in a quiet stedfastnesse, as also for the high preferment of the earle of Richmond, sonne to his ladie and mistresse: willing hir first to compasse how to obteine the good will of quéene Elizabeth, and also of hir eldest daughter bearing the same name: and after secretlie to send to hir sonne into Britaine, to declare what high honor was prepared for him, if he would sweare to marrie the ladie Elizabeth assoone as he was king, and in roiall possession of the relme. Reginald Braie with a glad heart, forgetting nothing giuen to him in charge, in great hast and with good spéed returned to the countesse his ladie and mistresse.

Bishop Mortons deuise for to be at his owne libertie in his bishoprike of Elie.

When Braie was departed, and this great doubtfull vessell once set abroach, the bishop thirsting for nothing more than for libertie: when he saw the duke pleasant and well minded toward him; he told the duke, that if he were in his Ile of Elie, he could make manie fréends to further their enterprise: and if he were there and had but foure daies warning, he little regarded the malice of king Richard, his countrie was so strong. The duke knew well all this to be true, but yet loth he was that the bishop should depart: for he knew well, that as long as the bishop was with him, he was sure of politike aduise, sage counsell, and circumspect procéeding. And so he gaue the bishop faire words, saieng, that he should shortlie depart, and that well accompanied for feare of enimies.

The bishop of Elie saileth into Flanders to the earle of Richmond.

The Bishop being as wittie as the duke was wilie, did not tarrie till the dukes companie were assembled, but secretlie disguised, in a night departed (to the dukes great displeasure) and came to his sée of Elie; where he found monie and fréends; and so sailed into Flanders, where he did the earle of Richmond good seruice, and neuer returned againe, till the erle of Richmond (after being king) sent for him, and shortlie promoted him to the sée of Canturburie. Thus the bishop woond himselfe from the duke when he had most néed of his aid, for if he had taried still, the duke had not made so manie blabs of his counsell, nor put so much confidence in the Welshmen, nor yet so temerariouslie set forward (without knowledge of his fréends) as he did, which things were his sudden ouerthrowe (as they that knew it did report) [and might perhaps haue béene auoided by the bishops wisdome for the dukes saftie, as his owne; sith

When Reginald Braie had declared his message and priuie instruction to the countesse of Richmond his mistresse, no maruell though she were ioious and glad, both of the good newes, and also for the obteining of such a high fréend in hir sonnes cause as the duke was. Wherefore she willing not to sléepe this matter, but to further it to the vttermost of hir power and abilitie, deuised a means how to breake this matter to quéene Elizabeth then being in sanctuarie at Westminster. And therevpon she, hauing in hir familie at that time (for the preseruation of hir health) a certeine Welshman called Lewes, learned in physicke, which for his grauitie and experience, was well knowne, and much estéemed amongest great estates of the realme, brake hir mind to him.

For with this Lewes she vsed sometime liberallie and familiarlie to talke, and now hauing opportunitie and occasion to expresse hir hart vnto him in this weightie matter, declared that the time was come that hir sonne should be ioined in marriage with ladie Elizabeth, daughter and heire to king Edward; and that king Richard being taken and reputed of all men for the common enimie of the relme, should out of all honor and estate be deiected, and of his crowne and kingdome be cléerelie spoiled and expelled: and required him to go to quéene Elizabeth (with whome in his facultie he was of counsell) not as a messenger, but as one that came fréendlie to visit and consolate hir, and (as time & place should require) to make hir priuie of this deuise; not as a thing concluded, but as a purpose by him imagined.

Lewes the physician sheweth the quéene the whole conceipt and deuise of the matter.

This physician did not linger to accomplish hir desire, but with good diligence repaired to the quéene, being still in the sanctuarie at Westminster. And when he saw time propice and conuenient for his purpose, he said vnto hir: Madame, although my imagination be verie simple, and my deuise more foolish; yet for the entire affection that I beare toward you and your children, I am so bold to vtter vnto you a secret and priuie conceit that I haue cast and compassed in my fantasticall braine. When I well remembred and no lesse considered the great losse and damage that you haue susteined, by the death of your noble and louing husband; and the great dolour and sorow that you haue suffered and tollerated, by the cruell murther of your innocent children: I can no lesse doo both of bounden duetie and christian charitie, than dailie to studie, and hourelie imagine, not onelie how to bring your hart to comfort and gladnesse, but also deuise how to reuenge the righteous quarell of you and your children on that bloudie bloudsupper, and cruell tyrant king Richard.

The coniunction of the two families mooued to the Q. by the physician.

And first consider, what battell, what manslaughter, what mischéefe hath risen in this realme by the dissention betwéene the two noble houses of Yorke & Lancaster. Which two families (as I haue continued) if they may be ioined in one, I thinke, yea and doubt not, but your line shall be againe restored to the pristinate estate and degrée; to your great ioie and comfort, and to the vtter confusion of your mortall enimie the vsurper king. You know verie well madame, that of the house of Lancaster, the earle of Richmond is next of bloud, who is liuing, and a lustie yoong batcheler, and to the house of Yorke your daughters now are heires. If you could agrée and inuent the meane how to couple your eldest daughter with the yoong earle of Richmond in matrimonie, no doubt but the vsurper of the realme should be shortlie deposed, and your heire againe to hir right restored.

The quéenes readinesse to set forward this cōclusion.

When the quéene had heard this friendlie motion (which was as farre from hir thought, as the man that the rude people saie is in the moone) lord how hir spirits reuiued, and how hir heart leapt in hir bodie for ioie and gladnesse! And first giuing laud to Almightie God, as the chiefe authour of hir comfort, secondarilie to maister Lewes, as the deuiser of these good newes & tidings, she instantlie besought him, that as he had béene the first inuenter of so great an enterprise, so now he would not relinquish nor desist to follow the same: requiring him further (bicause he was apperteining to the countesse of Richmond mother to the erle Henrie) that he would with all diligent celeritie resort to hir, then lodging in hir husbands place, within the citie of London: and to declare on the quéenes behalfe to the countesse, that all the friends and fautors of king Edward hir husband, should assist and take part with the earle of Richmond hir sonne, so that he would take a corporall oth after the kingdome obteined, to espouse and take to wife the ladie Elizabeth hir daughter, or else ladie Cicilie, if the eldest daughter were not then liuing.

Maister Lewes with all dexteritie so sped his businesse, that he made and concluded a finall end and determination of this enterprise betwene the two mothers. And bicause he was a physician, and out of all suspicion and misdéeming, he was the common curror and dailie messenger betwéene them, aiding and setting foorth the inuented conspiracie against king Richard. So the ladie Margaret countesse of Richmond, brought into a good hope of the preferment of hir sonne, made Reginald Braie hir most faithfull seruant, chiefe sollicitor and priuie procuror of this conspiracie; giuing him in charge secretly to inuegle and attract such persons of nobilitie to ioine with hir and take hir part, as he knew to be ingenious, faithfull, diligent, and of actiuitie. This Reginald Braie within few daies brought vnto his lure (first of all taking of euerie person a solemne oth to be true and secret) sir Giles Daubneie, sir Iohn Cheinie knight, Richard Gilford, and Thomas Rame esquiers, and diuers other. The countesse of Richmond was not so diligent for hir part, but quéene Elizabeth was as vigilant on the other side, and made friends, and appointed councellors to set forward and aduance hir businesse.

The countesse of Richmond vttereth the matter to Urswike hir chapleine, swearing him to be secret.

In the meane season, the countesse of Richmond tooke into hir seruice Christopher Urswike, an honest and wise priest, and (after an oth of him for to be secret taken and sworne) she vttered to him all hir mind and counsell, adhibiting to him the more confidence and truth, that he all his life had fauoured and taken part with king Henrie the sixt, and as a speciall iewell put to hir seruice by sir Lewes hir physician. So the mother, studious for the prosperitie of hir son, appointed this Christopher Urswike to saile into Britaine to the earle of Richmond, and to declare and reueale to him all pacts and agréements betwene hir & the quéene agréed and concluded. But suddenlie she remembring that the duke of Buckingham was one of the first inuentors, and a secret founder of this enterprise, determined to send some personage of more estimation than hir chapleine.

Hugh Cōweie esquire sent ouer to the earle of Richmond, to informe him of his roiall preferment.

Herevpon she elected for a messenger Hugh Conweie esquier, & sent him into Britaine with a great sum of monie to hir sonne, giuing him in charge, to declare to the earle the great loue and especiall fauor that the most part of the nobilitie of the realme bare toward him, the louing hearts & beneuolent minds which the whole communaltie of their owne frée will frankelie offered, and liberallie exhibited to him, willing and aduising him not to neglect so good an occasion apparantlie offered; but with all spéed and diligence, to addict and settle his mind & full intention how to returne home againe into England, where he was both wished and looked for: giuing him further monition and counsell, to take land and arriuall in the principalitie of Wales, where he should not doubt to find both aid, comfort and friends.

Tho. Rame sent ouer for the same purpose for feare of interception.

Richard Gilford, least Hugh Conweie might fortune to be taken, or stopped at Plimmouth, where he intended to take his nauigation, sent out of Kent Thomas Rame with the same instructions: and both made such diligence, and had such wind and weather, the one by land from Calis, and the other by water from Plimmouth, that within lesse than an houre both ariued in the duke of Britains court, and spake with the earle of Richmond, which (from the death of king Edward) went at pleasure and libertie, and to him counted and manifested the cause and effect of their message and ambassage. When the earle had receiued this message (which was the more pleasant, bicause it was vnlooked for) he rendered to Iesu his sauiour, his most humble & heartie thanks, being in firme credence and beléefe, that such things as hée with busie mind and laborious intent had wished & desired, could neuer haue taken anie effect, without the helpe and preferment of almightie God.

The earle of Richmond maketh the duke of Britaine priuie to the matter.

And now being put in comfort of his long longing, he did communicate & breake to the duke of Britaine all his secrets, and priuie messages, which were to him declared: aduertising him that he was entered into a sure and stedfast hope, to obteine and get the crowne and kingdome of the realme of England, desiring him both of his good will and friendlie helpe toward the atchiuing of his offered enterprise, promising him when he came to his intended purpose, to render to him againe equall kindnes, and condigne recompense. Although the duke of Britaine before that daie, by Thomas Hutton ambassadour from king Richard, had both by monie and praiers béene solicited and mooued to put againe into safe custodie the earle of Richmond, he neuerthelesse promised faithfullie to aid him: and his promise hée trulie performed.

Hugh Cōwey and Thomas Rame returne into England and deliuer their answer.

Preparation to bring in, receiue, & erect the earle to the kingdome.

Wherevpon the earle with all diligence sent into England againe Hugh Conweie, and Thomas Rame, which should declare his comming shortlie into England: to the intent that all things, which by counsell might be for his purpose prouided, should be spéedilie and diligentlie doone; and that all things doubtfull, should of his friends be prudentlie foreséene, in auoiding all engines or snares which king Richard had or might set in disturbance of his purpose: and he in the meane season would make his abode still in Britaine, till all things necessarie for his iournie were prepared, and brought in a readinesse. In the meane season, the chiefteins of the coniuration in England began togither manie enterprises: some in conuenient fortresses put strong garrisons, some kept armed men priuilie, to the intent that when they should haue knowledge of the earles landing, they would begin to stir vp the war: other did secretlie mooue and solicit the people to rise & make an insurrection: other (amongst whom Iohn Morton bishop of Elie then being in Flanders was chiefe) by priuie letters and cloked messengers did stirre and mooue to this new coniuration, all such which they certeinlie knew to haue a rooted hatred, or to beare cankered malice toward king Richard and his procéedings.

K. Richards purpose in the case of coniuration against him.

Although this great enterprise were neuer so priuilie handled, and so secretlie amongst so circumspect persons treated, compassed and conueied; yet knowledge therof came to the eares of king Richard, who with the sudden chance was not a little mooued and astonied. First bicause he had no host readie prepared; secondlie, if he should raise an armie so suddenlie, he knew not where to méet his enimies, or whither to go, or where to tarrie. Wherefore he determined to dissemble the matter as though he knew nothing, till he had assembled his host; and in the meane season either by the rumour of the common people, or by the diligence of his espials to search out all the counsels, determinations, intents, and compasses of his close aduersaries; or else by policie to intercept and take some person of the same coniuration, considering that there is no more secret nor hid espiall, than that which lurketh in dissimulation of knowledge and intelligence, or is hidden in name and shadow of counterfeit humanitie and feined kindnesse. But yet wisedome hath a deuise to auoid & shift off all such deceiuers, as the poet well saieth:

The duke of Buckingham conspireth against king Richard.

And bicause he knew the duke of Buckingham to be the chiefe head and aid of the coniuration, hée thought it most necessarie to plucke him from that part, either by faire promises or open warre. Wherevpon he addressed his louing letters to the duke, full of gentle words, & most friendlie speach; giuing further in charge to the messenger that caried the letter to promise the duke (in his behalfe) golden hilles, and siluer riuers, and with all gentle and pleasant means to persuade and exhort the duke to come to the court. But the duke as wilie as the king, mistrusting the faire flattering words, and the gaie promises to him so suddenlie without any cause offered, knowing the craftie casts of king Richards bow, which in diuerse affaires before time he had séene practised, required the king to pardon him, excusing himselfe that he was so diseased in his stomach, that scant he could either take refection or rest.

The duke of Buckingham a professed enimie to king Richard.

King Richard not being content with this excuse would in no wise admit the same; but incontinent directed to the duke other letters, of a more rougher and hautier sort, not without tawnting and biting tearmes, and checking words, commanding him (all excuses set apart) to repaire without anie delaie to his roiall presence. The duke made to the messeng a determinate answer, that he would not come to his mortall enimie, whome he neither loued, nor fauoured: and immediatlie prepared open warre against him, and persuaded all his complices and partakers, that euerie man in his quarter, with all diligence should raise vp people & make a commotion. And by this means almost in one moment Thomas marques Dorset came out of sanctuarie, where since the begining of K. Richards daies he had continued, whose life by the onelie helpe of sir Thomas Louell was preserued from all danger & perill in this troublous world, gathered togither a great band of men in Yorkeshire.

K. Richards drift in the disposing of his armie.

Sir Edward Courtneie, and Peter his brother bishop of Excester, raised an other armie in Deuonshire and Cornewall. In Kent Richard Gilford and other gentlemen collected a great companie of souldiers, and openlie began warre. But king Richard, who in the meane time had gotten togither a great strength and puissance, thinking it not most for his part beneficiall, to disperse and diuide his great armie into small branches, and particularlie to persecute anie one of the coniuration by himselfe, determined (all other things being set aside) with his whole puissance to set on the chiefe head, which was the duke of Buckingham. And so remoouing from London, he tooke his iournie towards Salisburie, to the intent that in his iournie he might set on the dukes armie, if he might know him in anie place incamped, or in order of battell arraied.

The duke of Buckinghāms power of wild Welshmen (falseharted) doo faile him.

The king was scarse two daies iournie from Salisburie, when the duke of Buckingham accompanied with a great power of wild Welshmen, whom he (being a man of great courage and sharpe spéech) in maner against their willes had rather thereto inforced and compelled by lordlie and streict commandement, than by liberall wages and gentle demenour, which thing was the verie occasion why they left him desolate, & cowardlie forsooke him. The duke with all his power marched through the forrest of Deane, intending to haue passed the riuer Seuerne at Glocester, & there to haue ioined his armie with the Courtneis, and other westerne men of his confederacie and affinitie. Which if he doone, no doubt but king Richard had béene in great ieopardie, either of priuation of his realme, or losse of his life, or both.

A sore floud of high water dooing much harme, called the duke of Buckinghāms great water.

But sée the chance. Before he could atteine to Seuerne side, by force of continuall raine and moisture, the riuer rose so high that it ouerflowed all the countrie adioining, insomuch that men were drowned in their beds, and houses with the extreame violence were ouerturned, children were caried about the fields swimming in cradels, beasts were drowned on hilles. Which rage of water lasted continuallie ten daies, insomuch that in the countrie adioining they call it to this daie, The great water; or the duke of Buckinghams great water. By this floud the passages were so closed, that neither the duke could come ouer Seuern to his adherents, nor they to him. During the which time, the Welshmen lingring idelie, and without monie, vittels, or wages, suddenlie scattered and departed: and for all the dukes faire promises, threatnings, and inforcement, would in no wise either go further nor abide.

The duke (being thus left almost post alone) was of necessitie compelled to flie, and in flight was with this sudden fortune maruellouslie dismaid: and being vnpurneied what counsell he should take, and what waie he should follow, like a man in despaire, not knowing what to doo, of verie trust & confidence conueied himselfe into the house of Humfreie Banaster his seruant beside Shrewesburie, whome he had tenderlie brought vp, and whome he aboue all men loued, fauoured and trusted; now not doubting but that in his extreame necessitie he should find him faithfull, secret, and trustie, intending there couertlie to lurke, till either he might raise againe a new armie, or else shortlie to saile into Britaine to the earle of Richmond. [But alas (good duke) the meanes (by occasion of Gods prouidence, shaking men out of their shifts of supposed safetie) failed him, and he fell infortunatlie into the hands of the foming bore, that tare him in péeces with his tuskes.]

The dukes adherents & their powers dispersed.

Now when it was knowne to his adherents, which were redie to guie battell, that his host was scatred, and had left him almost alone, and was fled, & could not be found; they were suddenlie amazed & striken with sudden feare, that euery man like persons desperate shifted for himselfe & fled. Some went to sanctuarie, and to solitarie places; some fled by sea, whereof the most part within a few daies after arriued safelie in the duchie of Britaine. Among which number were these persons; Peter Courtneie bishop of Excester, and sir Edmund Courtneie his brother, by king Henrie the seuenth after created earle of Deuonshire; Thomas marquesse Dorset, Iohn lord Welles, sir Iohn Bourchier, sir Edward Wooduile, a valiant man in armes, brother to quéene Elizabeth, sir Robert Willoughbie, sir Giles Daubneie, sir Thomas Arundell, sir Iohn Cheinie and his two brethren, sir William Barkelie, sir William Brandon, & Thomas his brother, sir Richard Edgecombe; all these for the most part being knights, Iohn Hallowell, and Edward Poinings, a politike capteine.

A proclamation for the apprehension of the duke of Buckinghā, with large rewards to the apprehendor.

At this verie season, Iohn Morton bishop of Elie, and Christopher Urswike priest, and an other companie of noble men soiourned in Flanders; and by letters and messengers procured manie enimies against king Richard, which vsing a vigilant eie, and a quicke remembrance, being newlie come to Salisburie, hauing perfect notice and knowledge how the duke was fled, and how his complices intended to passe out of the realme; first he sent men of warre to all the next ports and passages, to kéepe streictlie the sea coast, so that no person should passe outward, nor take land within the realme without their assent and knowledge; secondarilie he made proclamation, that what person could shew and reueale where the duke of Buckingham was, should be highlie rewarded; if he were a bondman, he should be infranchised and set at libertie; if he were of frée bloud, he should haue a generall pardon, and be rewarded with a thousand pounds.

K. Richard sendeth foorth a nauie to scowre the sea ouer against Britaine.

Furthermore, bicause he vnderstood by Thomas Hutton, which (as you haue heard) was newlie returned out of Britaine, that Francis duke of Britaine not onelie refused to kéepe the earle of Richmond as a prisoner, at his contemplation, and for his sake; but also that he was readie to aid and succour the said earle, with men, monie and all things necessarie for his transporting into England; he therefore rigged and sent out ships of warre, well furnished and decked with men and artillerie, to scowre and kéepe that part of the sea that lieth ouer against Britaine, to the intent that if the earle of Richmond would aduenture to saile toward England, either he should be taken captiue, or be beaten and driuen from the coast of England. And moreouer, to the intent that euerie coast, waie, passage, and corner, should be diligentlie watched & kept, he set at euerie doubtfull and suspected place men of warre, to séeke, search, and inquire, if anie creature could tell tidings of the duke of Buckingham; or of anie of his confederation, adherents, fautors or partakers.