A chronicle of the Kings of England, from the time of the Romans goverment [sic] unto the raigne of our soveraigne lord, King Charles containing all passages of state or church, with all other observations proper for a chronicle / faithfully collected out of authours ancient and moderne, & digested into a new method ; by Sr. R. Baker, Knight.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE FIFTH.

KING Edward the Fourth being dead, his eldest Sonne Edw••••••, scarce yet eleven yee•••• old, succeeded in the kingdome, but not in the Crown; for he was Proclaimed king, but never Crowned: and indeed it may not so properly be called the Reigne of E••••••••d ••he fifth, as the Tyranny of Richard the Third; for from the time of king Edward•• death, though not in Name, yet in effect•• he not onely ruled as king, but raged as a Tyrant. Prince Edwa•••• when his Father dyed, was at Ludlow in Wales, where he had lived some time before, the better by his presence, to keep the Welsh in awe; He had about him of his Mo∣thers kindred many; but Sir Anthony Woodvile, the Earle Rivers his Uncle, was ap∣pointed his chiefe Counsellour and directour. The Duke of Glocester was at this time in the North, but had word presently sent him, from the Lord Hastings Lord Chamberlaine, of his brother king Edwards death; who acquainted him withall, that by his Will, he had committed the young king, his Queen and other children, to his care and government; and thereupon putting him in minde, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 necessary it was for him speed••ly to rep••ir•• to London: But the Duke of Gloce••••er needed no spurre to set him forward, who was already in a full cariere; for he had long before projected in his minde, how he might come to attaine the Crown; and now hee thought the way was made him. For as it is said, the very night in which king Ed∣ward dyed, one Misselbrooke, long ere morning, came in great haste to the house of one Potter dwelling in Red-crosse-streete without Cripplegate; where he shewed un∣to Potter, that king Edward was departed: to whom Potter answered, By my troth man, then will my Master the Duke of Glocester be king: what cause he had so to thinke, is hard to say; but surely it is not likely he spake it of nought. And now the young king was comming up to London with a strong guard; partly to make a first expression of his greatnesse, and partly to oppose any disorders that might be offered. But the Duke of Glocester finding this proceeding like to be a rub in his way, at least not fit for his designes, he presently fals to undermining; writes most loving letters to the Queen, protesting all humble and faithfull service to the king and her, but withall perswading her, that this great guard about the king might be presently dismissed; which did but minister matter of suspition, and would be apt to breed new jealousies in them who were now throughly reconciled. The Queen of a nature easie to be wrought upon, gives credit to his glozing letters; and there∣upon

sends in all haste to her Sonne, and to her brother the Lord Ri••ers; requiring them by all meanes, for some causes to her known, to dismisse their g••••••d, (not ••en••••oning by whose advice she writ them; which if she had done, they would ne∣ver have done) but now upon her letters, they presently did; and came forward with o••••ly a sober company. And now is Glocesters first work 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but he know∣ing that the worke yet behinde was too great to be done by himselfe ••••one, gets the D••ke of Buckingham and the Lord Hastings; two of the greatest men of power at that time in the kingdome, to joyn with him in opinion, that it was not fit ••he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 kindred should be so wholly about the king; and others of better blood and d••••••rt, to be estranged from him; and therefore by all means, fi•• ••o endeavour to ••emove them: to which the Duke of Buckingham is easily wrought, upon a pro∣mise to have the Earledome of Hartford conferred upon him: and the Lord Hasting•• not hardly, upon a hope by this means to cut off many, whom in king Edwards daies 〈…〉〈…〉 ••ustly offended. And now another great worke was done; It remaines in 〈…〉〈…〉 place, to put it in execution, which was presently this e••fected: The 〈◊〉〈◊〉 king had been at Northampton, and from thence was gone to Stonystratford, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the two Dukes of Glocester and Buckingham a••rived; but pretending the Town to be too little for the entertainment of their Comp••nies, they went back to ••••••thampton, and alighted at the same In••e where the Earle Ryver•• had taken up h••s lodging for that night, intending the next morning early to overtake the king. Upon this their accidentall meeting, great shews of courtesie passed between them; and supper ended, the Dukes pretending wearines, retire to their lodgings, the Earle to his; but the Dukes being entred into their Chambers, enter into consultation 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their private friends, in which they spent a great part of the night, and then secretly get the keyes of the Inne gates, suffering none to passe either in or out; whereof the Earle having notice by his Host, though he suspected the worst, yet setting a good countenance upon the matter, and trusting to his own Innocency, he bold••y went to the Duke of Glocesters Chamber, where he found the Duke of Buck∣ingham and the rest closely set in counsell; with whom he expostulates the reason of this co••••se, to imprison him in his Inne against his will? b••t they in stead of answer, c••mmand presently to lay hands on him, charging him with many crimes, whereof themselves were onely guilty: And then taking order for his safe imprisonment, they speedily took horse, and came to Stonistratford, at such time as the king was taking horse, whom in all reverent manner they saluted: but presently in the kings presence, a quarrell is pickt against the Lord Richard Grey, the kings halfe brother: The Duke of Buckingham making relation to the king, that he and the Marquesse his brother, with the Earle Rivers the Queens brother, had endeavoured and almost e••fected to draw to themselves the whole mannaging the affaires of the kingdom••, and to set variance between the Peeres of the Realme: and particularly, that the L••••d Marquesse without any warrant, had taken out of the Tower of London both Treasure and Armour, to a great quantity; but to what purpose, though they were ignorant, yet there was just cause to suspect it was to no good end: And therefore it was thought expedient by the advise of the Nobility, to attach him at Northamp∣••••••, to have him forth-comming to make his answer for these and many other his ev••••-b••ld actions; The king unable to sound the depth of these plots, mildly ••aid 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him: What my brother Marquesse hath done, I cannot say; but for my Uncle 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Brother here, I dare answer, that they are innocent of any unlawfull practises 〈◊〉〈◊〉 against me or you. Oh (saith the Duke of Buckingham) that hath been their 〈◊〉〈◊〉, to keep their treachery from your ••races knowledge: and thereupon ••n∣••an••••y in the kings presence, they arrested the Lord Richard, Sir Thomas Vanghan, Sir Richard Hall, and brought the king and all his company back to Northampton, p••••••ing away a••l his old servants, and placing in their room•• creatures of their own, whom they had power to command. At which ••ealing, the young king wept, but it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 nothing; and to colour the matter, the Duke of Glocester at dinner, sent a dish from his own table to the Lord Rivers, bidding him ••e of good cheer, for all 〈◊〉〈◊〉 should be well: but the Lord Rivers thanking the Duke, prayed the Messen∣ger

to carry it to the Lord Richard, with the same message for his comfort, as one to whom such adversity was strange; but as for himselfe, he had all his dayes been ac∣quainted with it, and therefore could the better beare it. But for all this comfor∣table courtesie of the Duke of Glocester, he sent the Lord Rivers, and the Lord Ri∣chard, with Sir Thomas Va••g•••••• into the North Country, into divers places to pri∣son, and afterward to Po••fres, where in Conclusion they were all beheaded.

And now the Duke of Glocester having thus gotten the custody of the King, set forwards toward London, giving out by the way, that the Marquesse and the Queens kindred had plotted the destruction of the king, and of all the antient Nobility of the Realme, and to alter the Government of the Commonwealth; and that they were onely imprisoned to be brought to their tryall according to Law: and the better to settle these suggestions in the apprehension of the Vulgar, they brought along with them divers Carts laden with Armour, (of their own providing) with Dryfats and great Chests, wherein they reported to be treasure for the payment of souldiers; with which they so possest the common-people, that all was believed for truth which was thus rumored: But the finest devise of all was, to have five of the Duke of Glocesters instruments manacled and pinioned like Traytors; and these in every place where the King lodged•• to be dispersed and given out to be men of great birth, drawn into this vile plot of Treason by the Queens brother; who must seem to be penitent for their offence, and to confesse their own guilt: and this devise continued acting till the king came to L••ndon, where their visards were pull'd off, and the disguise was soon discovered.

The Queen in the mean time having intelligence of these dolefull accidents, and fearing there were worse to follow, with her second Son and five D••ughters takes Sanctuary at Westminster: and the young king hearing of these things, with tears and sighes expressed his griefe; but the Dukes making Protestation of their fidelity, and care of his safety, seemed onely to mervaile why he should be melancholy.

At this time a messenger came from the Lord Chamberlaine, to the Archbishop of Yorke Lord Chancellour of England, to signifie to him, that there was no feare of any thing, for that he assured him all should be well. Well (quoth the Archbishop) be it as well as it will; I assure him, It will never be so well as we have seen it. And thereupon, presently after the messengers departure, he calleth up his servants (be∣ing then in the night) and taking the great Seale with him, came before day to the Queen, whom he found sitting alone aloe on the Rushes, all desolate and dismaied; whom he comforted the best he could, a••••uring her that if they Crowned any king but her Sonne whom they had with them, he would presently after Crown his brother whom she had with her; and therewithall delivering to her the great Seale, departed: but soon after, bethinking himselfe better, he thought he had done too rashly, to deliver the great Seale to the Queen; and therefore sent for it againe, and had it delivered him; yet shortly after reproved for delivering it, by the Counsell Table, he had it taken from him, which was then delivered to Doctor Russell Bishop of Lincolne, the most learned man of that time.

And now th•• Duke of Glocester so respectively carries himselfe towards the King, with so much shew of care and faithfulnes, that by a generall consent of the Coun∣sell he is appointed and established Protectour of the king and kingdome; and by this means he hath the king in his custody: It remains now how to get his brother the Duke of Yorke, for without having both, he were as good (as to his purpose) have neither: and to effect this, he makes the Effect to become a Cause: for where by his undue dealing•• he had made the king Melancholy, he now makes that Melancho∣ly a cause to require his brothers company to make him merry; and therefore wishes some course may be taken, either by perswasion or otherwise, to procure the Queen to send the Duke of Yorke to keep his brother the king company: Here the Arch∣bishop of Yorke the Lord Cardinall, the man thought most fit to be sent in this im∣ployment, riseth up and faith, He would doe his best endeavour to perswade her; but if he could not, he then thought it was not to be attempted against her will, for that it would turn to the high displeasure of God, if the priviledge of that holy

place should now be broken, which had so many yeers inviolably been kept, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Kings and Popes so good had granted, so many had confirmed; and which ho∣ly ground was more then five hundred yeers agoe, by Saint Peter in his own person, ac••ompani••d with great numbers of Angels, by night so specially hallowed and de∣dicated to God; and for proof whereof, there is yet in the Abby Saint Peters Cope 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shew: that from that time hitherward, there never was so undevo•••• a King that durst violate the sacred place, nor so holy a Bishop that durst presume to Consecrate it •• and therefore (saith he) God forbid, that any man for any earthly thing, should enterprise to breake the immunity and liberty of that sacred Sanctuary; and I trust w••••h Gods grace, we shall not need it, at least my endeavours shall not be wanting; if the Moth••rs dread and womanish feare be not the let. Womanish feare, nay wo∣manish frowardnes (quoth the Duke of Buckingham) for I dare take it upon my Soule, she well knoweth there is no need of any feare, either for her sonne or for herselfe•• and prosecuting his discourse, declareth at large, that as there was no just 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for the Queen to keep her Sonne, so there was great cause for them to require him; and that for breach of Sanctuary in this case there could be none; for that he had often heard of Sanctuary men, but never heard of Sanctuary children. And to this purpose having spoken much, It was all assented to by the Lords that were present, and with this Instruction is the Archbishop (upon whom the Queen specially relyed) sent unto her; who after humble salutations, acquaints her with his message, ear∣ne••••ly perswading her not to oppose the Lord Protectours request, and giving her many reasons, first that she ought not, and then that she could not keep him in San∣ctuary: she answered all his reasons, though with great mildenesse, yet with great earnestnes; so as the Archbishop finding little hope to prevaile with her by perswa∣sion, turns the tenour of his speech another way; telling her plainly, that if she did not consent to send her Sonne, he doubted some sharper course would speed••ly be taken. This warning sank so deep into the Queens minde, that after a little pausing, taking her Sonne by the hand, she said, My Lord Archbishop, here he is, for my own part I will never deliver him; but if you will needs have him, Take him, and at your hands I will require him; and therewith weeping bitterly, Deer childe (saith she) let me kisse thee before we part, God knows whether ever we shall meet againe; and so the childe weeping as fast as she, went along with the Archbishop to the Star∣chamber, where the Lord Protectour and other Lords had staid all the while look∣ing for his comming back: and as soone as he was entred the roome, the Protectour spying the childe, riseth up and embraceth him saying, Deere Nephew, Now wel∣come with all my heart: next to my Soveraigne Lord your brother, nothing gives me so much contentment as your Presence: and we may believe him, he spake as he thought; for now he had the prey which he so much desired. A few dayes after, pretending to have them lodged in a place of more security, untill the distempers of the Commonwealth might better be quieted; he caused them in great pompe and state to be conveyed through London to the Tower, there at pleasure to remaine, till the time of Coronation; whereof there was great shew of preparation made.

But now the great work is to be done; the Princes are to be made away: and how to have it done, Hoc opus, hic labor est: there must be potent Instruments; and none so potent as the Duke of Buckingham; and he, by a match to be concluded betwixt their children, and an equall partition of the Treasure of the Realme betwixt them two; not onely is drawne to condiscend, but is most forward to contrive and plot stratagems to effect it. The first rub in the way was the Lord Hastings; who being sound so firm to his old Masters King Edwards sons, that nothing could remove him, it was fit to remove him out of the way; which was done in this manner: All the Lords of the Privy Councell, in the Protectors name, are convoked to the Tower; where ••itting preparations for the Coronation of the young King are proposed, un∣till the Protectour came in; who taking his chaire, very affably saluted them, mer∣rily jesting with some, and more than ordinarily ple••sant with them all: when after a little talke, he said to the Bishop of Ely; My Lord, I heare you have very good Strawberries at your Garden in Holborne; I pray let us have a messe of them. Most

gladly (said the Bishop) and presently sent for some: and then the Protectour rising up, prayed the Lords to spare his absence a little; and so departed. Within the sp••ce of an houre he returned; but so changed in countenance, and with such inward per∣turbations, which with sighings and other passionate gestures he expressed so, that it made them all to mervaile. After long silence (the better to prepare them to the more attention) he confusedly interrogates•• What they deserved that ne••ariously had pr••ctised his destruction? This unexpected interrogation strooke such ama••e∣ment amongst the Lords, that they all sate gazing on one another, and were, as ••t were, stricken dumbe: At length the Lord Hastings, by Buckinghams instigatio••, as one presuming of his intimacy with the Protector, boldly answered, That they de∣served the punishment of Traytors; which all the rest by their silence approved: whereat the Protectour riseth up, and with a sterne looke upon the Lord Hastings, replyed: Why it is the old sorceresse my brothers widow, and her partner that com∣mon Strumpet Iane Shore, that have by incantation conspired to be••eave me of my life; and though by Gods grace I have escaped the end of their malice, yet see the mischiefe they have done me; for behold (and then he bared his left arme to the el∣bow, and shewed it) how they have caused this deare limbe of mine to wither, an•• grow uselesse; and so should all my body have been served, if they might have had their will a little longer. Those to whom the Queenes religious courses were not unknown, a••d who knew his withered arme to have been such from his birth, ••at•• gazing one upon another, not knowing what to thinke or say; untill the Lord Hastings, thinking thereby to leave all blame upon the Queen, and excuse his Para∣mour Mistris Shore, (whom ever since the death of King Edward, he had entertained for his bed-fellow, and had but that morning parted from her) with a sober looke submissely said, If the Queene have conspired—: which word was no sooner cut of the Lord Hastings mouth, when the Protectour clapping his hand upon the boord, and frowningly looking upon him, said: Tellest thou me of If & And? I tell thee, They, and none but they have done it; and thou thy selfe art partaker of the villany. Who I my Lord, quoth he? yea Thou traytor, quoth the Protectour; and therewith, upon a watch-word given, those prepared before for that purpose, in the outer Chamber, cryed, Treason, Treason! when presently a great number of men in arm•• came rushing in as it were to guard the Protectour; one of which with a Pollax strook a maine blow at the Lord St••nley and wounded him on the head; and had slain him outright, if he had not avoided the stroake by slipping backward, and falling down to the ground. Forthwith the Protectour arrested the Lord Hastings of high Treason; and wisht him to make haste to be Confessed, for he swore by S. Paul (his usuall Oath) that he would not touch bread nor drinke till his head were off. It booted no•• to ask, why? for he knew the Protectours actions were not to be exami∣ned. So he was led forth unto the Greene before the Chappell within the Tower, where his head was laid downe upon a long logge of Tymber, and there strucken off. His body afterward with his head were interred at VVindsor, beside the body of King Edward. In this mans death we may see how inevitable the blowes of Destiny are: for the very night before his death, the Lord Stanley sent a secret messenger to him at midnight, in all the haste, to acquaint him with a Dreame hee had, in which hee thought that a Bore with his tusks so goared them both by the heads, that the blood ran about their shoulders: and for-as-much as the Protectour gave the Bore for his Cognisance, this Dreame made so fearefull an impression in his heart, that he was throughly resolved to stay no longer; and had made his horse ready, requiring the Lord Hastings to goe with him, and that presently, to be out of danger, before it should be day. But the Lord Hastings answered the messenger: Good Lord! lean∣eth your Master so much to such trifles, to put such faith in dreames, which either his owne feare fanta••ieth, or else doe rise in the nights rest, by reason of the dayes thoughts: Goe back therefore to thy Master, and commend me to him, and pray him to be merry, and have no feare; for I assure him, I am as sure of the man he wo••∣••eth of, as of my own hand. The man he meant, was one Catesby, well learned in the Lawes of the Land; who by his favour was growne into good authority in Leicester∣shire,

where the Lord Hastings Estate lay. Of this man he m••de himselfe so sure, ••hat he thought nothing could be plotted against him, which he would not presently re∣veale unto him. But this man deceived him; and was growne so inward with the Protectour, that being set by the Protectour to draw him to be a party in his de∣signes, and finding he could not doe it, was himselfe the first mover to rid him out of the way. Another warning the Lord Hastings had: the same morning in which he was beheaded, his horse twice or thrice stumbled with him, almost to falling; which though it often happen to such to whom no mischance is toward, yet hath it of old beene observed as a token foregoing some great misfortune. Also at the Tower-wharfe, neere to the place where his head soone after was strucken off, he met with one Hastings a Pursuivant of his own name; to whom he said: Ah Ha∣stings, dost thou remember I met thee here once with a heavy heart! Yea my Lord, saith he, I remember it well; and God be thanked, that time is past. In faith, man, said the Lord Hastings, I never stood in so great dread of my life, as I did when thou and I met here: and loe how the world is changed! now stand my Enemies in the danger, as thou mayest hap to heare hereafter; (for the Enemies he meant were the Lord Rivers, and other of the Queens kindred, who that very day were beheaded at Pomfret) and I never so merry, nor in so good surety as now I am. That we may know, there is not a greater Omen or signe of ill fortune, than to pre∣sume of good. And indeed, such is the uncertainty of our estate in this life, that we seldome know when we are in a Tempest at Sea, nor when we are in a Calm on shore; thinking ourselves oftentimes most safe, when we are most in danger; and often∣times to be in danger, when we are most safe: He onely is in the true Haven, that can say as Christ teacheth us, Thy will be done in Earth as it is in Heaven.

But this Lord being thus put to death; the Lord Protectour, to colour the matter, immediately after dinner, in all haste sent for many substantiall Citizens; at whose comming, himselfe with the Duke of Buckingham stood harnessed in old rusty Bri∣gandines, to make a shew they were forced by the sudden danger to take such as they could first come by: and withall, a Herald of Armes is sent with a Proclama∣tion in the Kings name, signifying, that the Lord Hastings with some others had conspired the same day to have slaine the Lord Protector and the Duke of Bucking∣ham, as they sate in Counsell; and after to have taken upon them to rule the King a••d Kingdome at their own pleasures. Now was this Proclamation made within two houres after the Lord Hastings was beheaded; and was so curiously indited, and so so faire written in Parchment, and withall so long, that every childe might perceive it was prepared before: which made one that was Schoolemaster of Pauls, standing by when the Proclamation was read, to say, Here is a gay goodly Cast, foule cast away for haste: To whom a Merchant answered, It was written by Prophesie. And now by and by, as it were in revenge of her offence, the Protectour sent the Sheriffs of Lo••do•• into the house of Shores wife, and spoyled her of all her goods, above the value of three thousand markes; and then conveying her through London to the Tower, there left her Prisoner: where he laid to her charge, that she went about to bewitch him, and was of counsell with the Lord Hastings to destroy him. In con∣clusion, she was laid into Ludgate, and by the Bishop of London put to open Penance for incontinency; going before the Crosse in Procession, upon a Sunday, with a Taper in her hand: in which, although she were out of all array, save her ki••tle only; yet went she so faire and lovely, and withall so womanly and demurely, that m••ny who hated her course of life, yet pittied her course usage, and were not a little grie∣ved to see her misery. And indeed, this may be said in her behalfe: that being in extraordinary favour with King Edward, yet she never used it to the hurt of any, but to the reliefe of many: and was ever a Mediatour, an Oppressour never.

Now it was so contrived by the Protectour, that the very day in which ••he Lord Hastings was beheaded at London, and about the very same houre, there were be∣headed at Pomfret, the Lord Rivers and the other Lords and Knights that were ta∣ken from the King at Northampton and Stonistratford; which was done in the pre∣sence, and by the order of Sir Richard Ratcliffe knight, whose service the Prote∣ctour

specially used in that businesse; who bringing them to the Scaffold, and not suffering them to declare their innocency, lest their words might have inclined men to hate the Protectour, caused them hastily without Judgement or Order of Processe to be beheaded.

When these were thus rid out of the way, then thought the Protectour that now was the time to put himselfe in possession of the Crown: but all the study was, by what means this matter being so hein••us in it selfe, might be broken to the people, in such wise, as that it might be well taken: for which purpose, It was thought fit to call to this Counsell Ed••••••d Sh•••• knight the then Major of London; who upon pro∣mise of advancement, should frame the peoples inclination to it. And because Spi∣rituall men are best hearkened to for matters of Conscience, some of them were used also; amongst whom, choice was made of Iohn Shaw Clerk, brother to the Major; Fryer Penker, Provinciall of the Order of the Augustine Fryers: both great P••••a∣chers, both of more learning then vertue, of more fame then learning. These two were appointed to preach, the one at Pauls Crosse, the other at the Spittle, in praise of the Protectour: Penker in his Sermon so lost his voice, that he was saine to leave off and come downe in the midst: Shaw by his Sermon lost his reputation, and soon after his life, for he never after durst come abroad, for very shame of the world.

But now was all the labour and study, to finde out some convenient pretext, for which the people should be content to have the Prince deposed, and the Protectour be received for King; to which purpose many things were devised; the cheife was to alleadge bastardy either in King Edward himselfe, or in his children, or in both•• To ••ay bastardy to King Edward, sounded openly to the reproach of the Protectours own Mother, who was Mother to them both; he would therefore that point should more favourably be handled: but the other point concerning the bastardy of his children, he would have enforced to the uttermost: The ground whereof was, that King Edward had been formerly contracted to the Lady Elizabeth Lucie, by whom he had a childe; though the said Lady, having been examined about it, confessed plainly, they were never assured. Yet upon this pretext, Doctor Shaw taking for his Text, Bastard Plants shall take no deep roote; in his Sermon declared, that King Edward was never lawfully married to the Queen, but was before God, husband to the Lady Eli∣zabeth Lucie, and so his children bastards. And besides that, neither King Edward himselfe, nor the Duke of Clarence were reckoned very sure for the children of the noble Duke Richard, as those that by their favours more resembled other known men; but the Lord Protectour (saith he) is the fathers own figure•• his own counte∣nance, the very print of his visage, the plaine expresse likenes of that noble Duke. Now, It was before devised, that just at the speaking of these words, the Protectour should have come, to the end that th••se words meeting with his presence, might be taken among the hearers, as though the Holy Ghost had put them in the Preachers mo••th, and so should move the poeple even then to cry, King Richard, King Richard that it might be after said, he was specially chosen by God, and in a manner by Mira∣cle: but this devise failed; for whither by the Protectours slacknes in comming, or the Doctors haste in Preaching, he had passed those words, and was gone to cleane another matter, before the Protectour came; so as afterward seeing him come, he was ••aine to leave the matter, he had in hand, and out of all order and frame begin to repeate those words againe: This is the very noble Prince, the Fathers own figure, his own countenance, the very print of his visage, the plaine expresse likenes of that noble Duke. While these words were in speaking, the Pro••e••tour accompa∣nied with the Duke of Buckingham, passed through the people into the place where the Doctors sit; and there sate to heare the Sermon: but the people were ••o farre from crying King Richard, that they cryed shame on the Preacher, for abusing his sacred function with so shamefull a Sermon.

The Tuesday following this Sermon, the Duke of Buckingham with divers Lords and Knights came to the Guildhall in London; and there before the Major and whole assembly of Citizens, made a very solemne and long Oration, wherein he recited many grievances of the late King Edwards Government, his many unnecessary Taxa∣tions

and unjust severities; thereby to bring his children into hatred: and then re∣••embred them of the late Sermon made at Pauls Crosse, by a learned Doctor; who cleerly shewed the bastardy of King Edwards children; and that Richard Duke of Glocester was the onely rightfull and indubitate heire to the Crowne of England: which the Lords of the Kingdome having taken into their consideration, had there∣upon agreed to accept him for their King; and now himselfe was come to acquaint them with it, and to require their consents. Which Oration ended, all men stood wondring at the motion, but no man offered to speak a word. At which the Duke marvelling, as supposing the Major had prepared them before; he asked the Major privately, what this silence meant? who answered, that perhaps they had not heard or understood what it was he said. Whereupon the Duke with a more a••dible voice repeated the same matter againe, in a more earnest and plain expression; yet neither did that move them to shew any inclination to the motion. Then the Duke whispering with the Major, It was thought, that the Citizens being used to have such motions made them by their Recorder, they would better it from him; and thereupon the Recorder is commanded to move them in it: but the Recorder (cal∣led Fitzwilliams) being an honest man and newly come to his place; repeated one∣ly as neer as he could the words of the Duke, but added nothing of his own; so as neither did this move the people to breake their silence. At last, the Duke seeing their resolved ••ullennesse, told them plainly, that all the Nobility and Commons of the Realme were agreed to choose the Protectour for their King, as the true and un∣doubted heire; so as he needed not to have moved them to it, but onely for the great respect they all bare to this honourable City; and therefore required them plainly to speak their mindes, whether they would joyn with them in this choice or no. At this, certaine servants of the Dukes, and other of their procuring, standing at the lower end of the Hall, cast up their Caps, and cryed aloud, King Richard, King Richard; whereat, though the whole multitude of Citizens marvelled what they meant; yet the Duke taking advantage of it, as of an unanimous conset: A good∣ly cry (saith he) and thanked them all for their universall approbation; promising he would acquaint the Protectour with the great love they shewed toward him: and then requiring the Major and chiefe Citizens to meet him the next morning at Bay∣nards Castle, where the Protectour then lay; there to joyn with him, in Petitioning the Protectour to accept of this their freely profered subjection; he tooke his leave and so departed.

The next morning according to appointment, they all meet at Baynards Castle; where the Duke of Buckingham sends up word to the ••. Protector, th•••• himself with the L. Major & his Brethren, were come to present a Supplication to him, concerning a busines of great importance: but the Protectour though (preacquainted with all passages, yet made it strange what their Supplication should be; and answered, that though he suspected nothing which the Duke of Buckingham presented to him; yet he desired at least some some slight in••imation to what it might tend. To this it was answered, that the busines they came about was to be made known to himself in Person; and therefore humbly besought him of admission in his presence: Upon this, as if not yet well assured of their well meaning towards him; he appeares unto them in an upper Gallery, making semblance as though he would prevent all dan∣ger, by standing something aloofe and in his Fort: To whom the Duke of Bucking∣••••••, in behalfe of the Major and Nobility there present; in most respective and re∣••erent manner makes req••est, that his Grace would pardon what he should deliver to him: and much circumstance he used, before he would discover their cause of ••omming: but though long first, yet at last, he told it: That in respect of the ur∣gent nec••ss••ties of the Common-wealth, they all humbly intreated him to take upon him the Government of the Kingdome, as in his own Right, to whom they all ten∣dred their Allegiance. At which words, the Protectour starting back, as if he had heard something most unpleasing to him, passionately answered: I little thought, good Cozen, that you of all men would have moved me to a matter which of all things in the world I most decline: Farre be it from to accept of that, which with∣out

apparent wrong to my deare deceased brothers sweet children, and my own up∣right Conscience, I cannot well approve of. And then being about to proceede in his premeditated di••••imulation; the Duke in a seeming abrupt passion, kneeling up∣on his knee, sayd; Your Grace was pleased to give me free liberty to deliver unto you, in the name of this worthy assembly, the tender of their ••••tifull obedience to you: but I must further adde, that it is unanimously resolved on, that your late brother King Edwards children, as being generally known to be Illegitimate, shall never be admitted to the Crown of England; and therefore if your Grace shall nei∣ther regard your selfe, nor us so much, as to accept it, we are directly determined to conferre it upon some other of the House of L••••caster, that will be more sensible of his own and our good. These words wrought so powerfully upon the Prote∣ctours passions; that with some change of Countenance, and not without a seeming reluctation, he said; Since I perceive the whole Realme is so resolved, by no mean•• to admit my deer Nephews, being but children, to Reigne over you; and seeing the Right of succession belongs justly to me, as the indubi••ate Heire of Richard Plan∣tagenet Duke of Yorke, my Illustrious Father: Wee are contented to condiscend to your importunities, and to accept of the Royall Government of the Kingdome, and will to the uttermost of my power endeavour to procure and maintain the wel∣fare thereof. And having so said, he came downe from his Gallery, and very for∣mally saluted them all: which so pleased the giddy multitude, that presently they fell to acclamations, Long live King Richard our dread Soveraigne Lord•• and then every man departed.