Source

Sir Thomas More wrote in about 1513. The Latin text was published posthumously. The excerpts given here have been modernized from Daniel Kinney’s English translation in (Yale University Press, 1986).

King Edward of that name the Fourth, after he had lived fifty and three years, seven months, and six days, and thereof reigned two and twenty years, one month, and eight days, died at Westminster the ninth day of April, the year of our redemption, a thousand four hundred four score and three, leaving much fair issue, that is to wit, Edward the Prince, a thirteen year of age; Richard Duke of York, two year younger; Elizabeth, whose fortune and grace was after to be queen, wife unto King Henry the Seventh, and mother unto the Eighth; Cecily not so fortunate as fair; Brigette, who, representing the virtue of her whose name she bear, professed and observed a religious life in DartfordDartford Priory, Kent., a house of closeCloistered. nuns; Anne, that was after honorably married unto Thomas, then Lord Howard and after Earl of Surrey; and Katherine, which long time tossed in either fortune, sometime in wealth, often in adversity, at the last, if this be the last, for yet she liveth, is by the benignityKindness, goodness, generosity ( benignity, n. 1.a). of her nephew, King Henry the Eighth, in very prosperous estate, and worthy her birth and virtue.

This noble prince deceased at his palace of Westminster and, with great funeral honor and heaviness of his people from thence conveyed, was interred at Windsor. A king of such governance and behavior in time of peace (for in war each part must needs be another’s enemy) that there was never any prince of this land attaining the crown by battle so heartily beloved by the substance of the people, nor he himself so specially in any part of his life as at the time of his death.

He was a goodly personage, and very princely to behold: of heart, courageous; politicPrudent, shrewd ( politic, adj. 2.b). in counsel; in adversity nothing abashed; in prosperity, rather joyful than proud; in peace, just and merciful; in war, sharp and fierce; in the field, bold and hardy, and natheless,Nevertheless, notwithstanding ( natheless, adv. a). no farther than wisdom would, adventurous. Whose wars who so well consider, he shall no less commend his wisdom when he voidedWithdrew, retreated ( void, v. 4.d). than his manhood where he vanquished. He was of visage lovely, of body mighty, strong, and clean made; how be itHowever. in his latter days with over-liberal diet, somewhat corpulent and burly, and natheless not uncomely; he was of youth greatly given to fleshly wantonness, from which health of body in great prosperity and fortune, without a special grace, hardly refraineth This fault not greatly grieved the people, for neither could any one man’s pleasure stretch and extend to the displeasure of very many, and was without violence, and over that, in his latter days, it lessened and well left.

But the lords recomfortingSoothing, consoling ( recomfort, v. 1). him with as good words as they could, and answering for the time as they thought to stand with his pleasure, there in his presence, as by their words appeared, each forgave other, and joined their hands together, when (as it after appeared by their deeds) their hearts were far asunder. I counterfeit and pretended reconcilement. As soon as the king was departed, that noble prince his son drew toward London, which at the time of his decease kept household at LudlowThe prince of Wales and duke of York lived at Ludlow Castle in Shropshire until their father’s death. in Wales. Which country, being far off from the law and recourse to justice, was begun to be far out of good will and waxenFully grown, adult ( trifle, adj. 2). wild, robbers and reaversRobbers, plunderers, thieves ( reaver, n. 1). walking at liberty uncorrected. And for this encheasonReason, cause, motive ( encheason, n. 1). the prince was, in the life of his father, sent thither, to the end that the authority of his presence should refrainRestrain. evil disposed persons from the boldness of their former outrages, to the governance and ordering of this young prince, at his sending thither, was there appointed Sir Anthony Woodville, lord Rivers and brother unto the queen, a right honorable man, as valiant of hand as politic in counsel. Adjoined were there unto him other of the same party, and, in effect, every one as he was nearest of kin unto the queen so was planted next about the prince.

That driftPlan. by the queen not unwisely devised whereby her blood might of youthFrom the beginning. be rooted in the prince’s favor, the duke of Gloucester turned unto their destruction, and upon that ground set the foundation of all his unhappy building. For whomsoever he perceived either at variance with them or bearing himself their favor, he break unto them, some by mouth, some by writing and secret messengers, that it neither was reason nor in any wise to be suffered that the young king, their master and kinsman, should be in the hands and custody of his mother’s kindred, sequestered in manner from their company and attendance, of which everyone owed him as faithful service as they, and many of them far more honorable part of kin than his mother’s side. Whose blood, quod he, saving the king’s pleasure, was full unmeetlyFully unsuitable. to be matched with his, which now to be as who say removed from the king—and the less noble to be left about him—is, quod he, neither honorable to his majesty nor to unto us, and also to his grace no surety to have the mightiest of his friends from him, and unto us no little jeopardy to suffer our well-proved evil-willersThose with malicious intent. to grow in over-great authority with the prince in youth.Youthful prince., namely which is light of belief and soon persuaded

Ye remember, I trow,Trust. king Edward himself, albeit he was a man of age and of discretion, yet was he in many things ruled by the bendQueen’s faction. more than stood either with his honor or our profit, or with the commodity of any man else, except only the immoderate advancement of them self,The queen’s family. which whither they sorerEven more so. thirsted after their own weal,Well-being. or our woe, it were hard I weenSuppose, believe ( ween, v. 1). to guess. And if some folks’ friendship had not holdenHeld. better place with the king than any respect of kindred, they might, peradventure,By chance. easily have betrapped and brought to confusion some of us ere this. Why, not as easily as they have done to some other already, as near to his royal blood as we? But our Lord hath wrought His will, and thank be to His grace that peril is past. How be it as great is growing if we sufferAllow, permit ( suffer, v. 2.12.). this young king in our enemies’ hand, which without his witting,The king’s awareness. might abuse the name of his commandment to any of our undoing, which thing God and good provision forbid. Of which good provision, none of us hath anything the less need for the late-made atonement in which the king’s pleasure had more place than the parties’ wills. Nor none of us, I believe, is so unwise oversoonToo soon, quickly, readily ( oversoon, adv. a). to trust a new friend made of an old foe, or to think that a hourlySlight. kindness, suddenly contract in one hour, continued yet scant a fortnight, should be deeper settled in their stomachs than a long-accustomed malice many years rooted.

With these words and writings and such other, the duke of Gloucester soon set afire them that were of themself easy to kindle, and especial twain,Two, pair ( twain, n. 2). Edward duke of Buckingham and Richard lord Hastings and chamberlain, both men of honor and of great power: the one by long succession from his ancestry, the other by his office and the king’s favor. These two, not bearing each to other so much love as hatred both unto the queen’s part, in this point accorded together with the duke of Gloucester that they would utterly amoveRemove. from the king’s company all his mother’s friends, under the name of their enemies. Upon this concluded, the duke of Gloucester, understanding that the lords which at that time were about the king intended to bring him up to his coronation, accompanied with such power of their friends that it should be hard for him to bring his purpose to pass without the gathering and great assemble of people and in manner of open war, whereof the end he wistKnew. to be doubtous,Doubtful, dubious ( doubtous, adj. 1). and in which the king being on their side, his part should have the face and name of a rebellion, he secretly, therefore, by divers means caused the queen to be persuaded and brought in the mindTo believe. that it neither were need, and also should be jeopardous for the king to come up strong. For whereas now every lord loved other and none other thing studied upon but about the coronation and honor of the king, if the lords of her kindred should assemble in the king’s name, much people, they should give the lords, atwixtBetween. whom and them had been sometime debate, to fear and suspect, lestLeast it. they should gather this people, not for the king’s safeguard, whom no man impugned,Opposed, fought against ( impugn, v. 1.a). but for their destruction, having more regard to their old variance than their new atonement. For which cause, they should assemble on the other party much people again for their defense, whose power she wist well far stretched. And thus should all the realm fall on a roar. And of all the hurt that thereof should ensue, which was likely not to be little, and the most harm that like to fall where she lest would, all the world would put her and her kindred in the wightBlame. and say that they had unwisely and untruly also, broken the amity and peace that the king her husband so prudently made between his kin and hers in his death bed and which the other party faithfully observed.

The queen, being in this wise persuaded, such word sent unto her son and unto her brother, being about the king; and over that, the duke of Gloucester himself and other lords the chief of his bend wrote unto the king so reverently and to the queen’s friends there so lovingly that they, nothing earthly mistrusting, brought the king up in great haste, not in good speed, with a sober company.

Now was the king in his way to London gone from Northampton,Northampton is a halfway point between Ludlow Castle and London. when these dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham came thither. Where remained behind the lord Rivers, the king’s uncle, intending on the morrow to follow the king, and be with him at Stony Stratford,A small town in Buckinghamshire where Edward V rested the night before arriving in London for his coronation. eleven miles thence, early ere he departed. So was there made that night much friendly cheer between these dukes and the lord Rivers a great while. But incontinentImmediately. after that, they were openly and with great courtesy departed; and while the lord Rivers lodged, the dukes secretly, with a few of their most privyPrivate. friends, set them down in council, wherein they spent a great part of the night. And at their rising in the dawning of the day, they sent about privily to their servants, in their inns and lodgings about, giving the commandment to make themself shortly ready, for their lords were to horsebackward.Ready to ride. Upon which messages, many of their folk were attendant when many of the lord Rivers’ servants were unready. Now had these dukes taken also into their custody the keys of the inn that none should pass forth without their license.Approval. And overBesides. this, in the highway toward Stony Stratford, where the king lay, they had bestowedOrdered. certain of their folk that should send back again and compel to return any man that were gotten out of Northampton toward Stony Stratford, till they should give other license, for as much as the dukes themself intended, for the show of their diligence, to be the first that should that day attend upon the king’s highness out of that town; thus bare theyDid they deceive. folk at hand.

But when the lord Rivers understood the gates closed and the ways on every side beset, neither his servants nor himself sufferedPermitted. to gone out, perceiving well so great a thing without his knowledge not begun for naught, comparing this manner present with this last night’s cheer, in so few hours so great a change marvelously misliked. How be it sith he could not get away, and keep himself close, he would not, lest he should seem to hide himself for some secret fear of his own fault, whereof he saw no such cause in himself: he determined, upon the surety of his own conscience, to go boldly to them and inquire what this matter might mean. Whom, as soon as they saw, they began to quarrel with him and say that he intended to set distance between the king and them and to bring them to confusion, but it should not lie in his power. And when he began (as he was a very well-spoken man) in goodly wise to excuse himself, they tarried not the end of his answer, but shortly took him and put him in ward,Under guard. and that done, forthwith went to horseback and took the way to Stony Stratford, where they found the king with his company ready to leap on horseback and depart forward, to leave that lodging for them because it was too straitNarrow, tight, small ( strait, adj. a.1.1). for both companies.

And as soon as they came in his presence, they lightAlighted. down with all their company about them. To whom the duke of Buckingham said, go afore, gentlemen and yeomen, keep your rooms. And thus in a goodly array, they came to the king and, on their knees in very humble wise, salved his grace, which received them in very joyous and amiable manner, nothing earthly knowing nor mistrusting as yet. But even by and by, in his presence, they picked a quarrel to the lord Richard Grey, the king’s other brother by his mother, saying that he, with the lord marquis his brother and the lord Rivers his uncle, had compassedPlanned. to rule the king and the realm, and to set variance among the states,Lords. and to subdue and destroy the noble blood of the realm. Toward the accomplishing whereof, they said that the lord marquis had entered into the Tower of London, and thence taken out the king’s treasure, and sent men to the sea. All which things, these dukes wist well, were done for good purposes and necessary by the whole council at London, saving that somewhat they must say.

Unto which words, the king answered, What my brother marquis hath done I cannot say. But in good faith I dare well answer for mine uncle Rivers and my brother here, that they be innocent of any such matters.

Yea, my liege, quod the duke of Buckingham, they have kept their dealing in these matters far from the knowledge of your good grace.

And forthwith they arrested the lord Richard and Sir Thomas Vaughan, knight, in the king’s presence, and brought the king and all back unto Northampton, where they took again further counsel. And there they sent away from the king whom it pleased them, and set new servants about him, such as liked them better than him. At which dealing he wept and was nothing content, but it bootedMattered. not. And at dinner the duke of Gloucester sent a dish from his own table to the lord Rivers, praying him to be of good cheer, all should be well enough. And he thanked the duke, and prayed the messenger to bear it to his nephew, the lord Richard, with the same message for his comfort, who he thought had more need of comfort, as one to whom such adversity was strange. But himself, had been all his days inure therewith, and therefore could bear it the better. But for all this comfortable courtesy of the duke of Gloucester, he sent the lord Rivers and the lord Richard with Sir Thomas Vaughan into the north country to divers places to prison and, afterward, all to Pomfret,A contemporary elision of Pontefract Castle, Wakefield, where Rivers and Grey were held and executed. where they were, in conclusion, beheaded.

In this wise the duke of Gloucester took upon himself the order and governance of the young king, whom, with much honor and humble reverence, he conveyed upward toward the city.

But the duke of Gloucester bare himself in open sight so reverently to the prince, with all semblance of lowliness, that from the great obloquyVerbal abuse, slander ( obloquy, n. 1.a). in which he was so late before, he was suddenly fallen in so great trust, that at the council next assembled, he was the only man chose and thought most meet to be protector of the king and his realm, so (that were it destiny or were it folly) the lamb was betakenGiven. to the wolf to keep. At which council also the archbishop of York, chancellor of England, which had delivered up the Great Seal to the queen, was thereof greatly reproved, and the Seal taken from him and delivered to Dr. Russell, bishop of Lincoln, a wise man and good and of much experience, and one of the best learned men undoubtedly that England had in his time. Diverse lords and knights were appointed unto diverse rooms. The lord chamberlain and some other kept still their offices that they had before.

Now all were it so that the protector so sore thirsted for the finishing of that he had begun, that thought every day a year till it were achieved, yet durst he no further attempt as long as he had but half his prey in his hand, well witting that if he deposed the one brother, all the realm would fall to the other, if he either remained in sanctuary or should haplyBy chance. be shortly conveyed to his farther liberty.

Wherefore incontinent at the next meeting of the lords at the council, he proposed unto them that it was a heinous deed of the queen, and proceeding from great malice toward the king’s counselors, that she should keep in sanctuary the king’s brother from him, whose special pleasure and comfort were to have his brother with him. And that by her was done to none other intent, but to bring all the lords in obloquy and murmur of the people, as though they were not to be trusted with the king’s brother, that assent of the nobles of the land, were appointed as the king’s nearest friends for the tuitionCare, protection, safe-keeping ( tuition, n. 1.a). of his own royal person.

Whereupon soon after, that is to wit, on the Friday, the thirteenth day of June, many lords assembled in the Tower, and there sat in council, devising the honorable solemnity of the king’s coronation, of which the time appointed so near approached that the pageants and subtleties were in making day and night at Westminster, and much victual killedMeat prepared. therefore that afterward was cast away. These lords so sitting together commoningSpeaking. of this matter, the protector came in among them, first about nine of the clock, saluting them courteously, and excusing himself that he had been from them so long, saying merrily that he had been asleep that day. And after a little talking with them, he said unto the bishop of Ely: my lord, you have very good strawberries at your garden in Holborn, I require you, let us have a mess of them.

Gladly, my lord, quod he: would God I had some better thing as ready to your pleasure as that. And therewith in all the haste he sent his servant for a mess of strawberries.

The protector set the lords fast in commoning, and thereupon praying them to spare him for a little while, departed thence. And soon after one hour, between ten and eleven, he returned into the chamber among them, all changed with a wonderful sour, angry countenance, knitting the brows, frowning and frothing and gnawing on his lips, and so sat him down in his place, all the lords much dismayed and sore marveling of this manner of sudden change, and what thing should him ail. Then when he had sitten still awhile, thus he began: What were they worthy to have that compass and imagine the destruction of me, being so near of blood unto the king, and protector of his royal person and his realm?

At this question, all the lords sat sore astonied,Stunned, stupefied, insensible ( astonied, adj. 1.a). musing much by whom this question should be meant, of which every man wist himself clear. Then the lord chamberlain, as he that for the love between them thought he might be boldest with him, answered and said that they were worthy to be punished as heinous traitors, whatsoever they were. And all the other affirmed the same.

That is, quod he, yonder sorceress, my brother’s wife, and other with her, meaning the queen.

At these words many of the other lords were greatly abashed that favored her. But the lord Hastings was in his mind better content that it was moved by her than by any other whom he loved better; albeit his heart somewhat grudged that he was not afore made of counselInformed earlier. in this matter, as he was of the taking of her kindred and of their putting to death, which were by his assent before devised to be beheaded at Pomfret this selfsame day, in which he was not aware that it was by other devised that he himself should the same day be beheaded at London.

Then said the protector: Ye shall all see in what wise that sorceress and that other witch of her counsel, Shore’s wife, with their affinity, have by their sorcery and witchcraft wasted my body. And therewith, he plucked up his doublet sleeve to his elbow upon his left arm, where he showed a wearish,Shriveled, sickly, feeble ( wearish, adj. 2.a). withered arm and small, as if it was never other. And thereupon every man’s mind sore misgave them, well perceiving that this matter was but a quarrel, for well they wist that the queen was too wise to go about any such folly. And also if she would, yet would she of all folk least make Shore’s wife of council, whom of all women she most hated, as that concubine whom the king her husband had most loved. And also no man was there present but well knew that the his arm was ever such since his birth.

Natheless the lord chamberlain (which from the death of king Edward kept Shore’s wife, on whom he somewhat doted in the king’s life, saving as it is said that while forebear her of reverence toward his king, or else of a certain kind of fidelity to his friend) answered and said: certainly, my lord, if they have so heinously done, and they be worthy heinous punishment.

What?! quod the protector. Thou servest me, I ween, with ifs and with ands. I tell thee they have so done, and that I will make good on thy body, traitor. And therewith as in a great anger, he clappedSlammed. his fist upon the boardTable. a great rap. At which token given, one cried treason without the chamber. Therewith a door clapped, and in come there rushing men in harness,Armour. as many as the chamber might hold. And anon the protector said to the lord Hastings: I arrest thee, traitor.

What me, my lord? quod he.

Yea, thee, traitor, quod the protector.

And another let fly at the lord Stanley, which shrunk at the stroke and fell under the table, or else his head had been cleft to the teeth; for as shortly as he shrank, yet ran the blood about his ears. Then were they all quickly bestowed in diverse chambers, except the lord chamberlain, whom the protector bade speed and shrive him apace, for by Saint Paul, quod he, I will not to dinner till I see thy head off. It booted him not to ask why, but heavily he took a priest at adventureRandom. and made a short shrift, for a longer one would not be suffered, the protector made so much haste to dinner, which he might not go to till this were done for the saving of his oath.

So was he brought forth into the green beside the chapel within the Tower, and his head laid down upon a long loafLog. of timber, and there stricken off, and afterward his body with the head interred at Windsor beside the body of king Edward, whose both souls our Lord pardon.

Yet for the further appeasing of the people’s mind, he sent immediately after dinner in all the haste, one herald of arms, with a proclamation to be made through the city in the king’s name, containing that the lord Hastings with divers other of his traitorous purpose had before conspired the same day to have slain the lord protector and the duke of Buckingham while sitting in the council, and after to have taken upon them to rule the king and the realm at their pleasure, and thereby to pillPillage. and spoil whom they list, uncontrolled. And much matter was there in the proclamation devised to the slander of the lord chamberlain, as that he was an evil counselor to the king’s father, enticing him to many things highly redounding to the minishingDiminishing. of his honor and to the universal hurt of his realm, by his evil company, sinister procuring, and ungracious ensample,Example, instance ( ensample, n. 1.a). as well in many other things, as in the vicious living and inordinate abusionMisuse. of his body, both with many other, and also especially with Shore’s wife, which was one also of his most secret counsel of this heinous treason, with whom he lay nightly, and, namely, the night last past before his death, so that it was the less marvel if ungracious living brought him to an unhappy ending, which he was now put unto, by the most dread commandment of the king’s highness and of his honorable and faithful council, both for his demerits, being so openly taken in his falsely conceived treason, and also lest the delaying of his execution might have encouraged other mischievous persons partners of his conspiracy to gather and assemble themself together in making some great commotion for his deliverance; whose hope now being by his well-deserved death politiclyPrudently. repressed, all the realm should by God’s grace rest in good quiet and peace.

Now was this proclamation made within two hours after that he was beheaded, and it was so curiously inditedComposed ( indite, v. 3.a). and so fair written in parchment in so well a set hand, and therewith of itself so long a process, that every child might well perceive that it was prepared before. For all the time between his death and the proclaiming could scant have sufficed unto the bare writing alone, had it all been but in paper and scribbled forth in haste at adventure. So that upon the proclaiming thereof, one that was schoolmaster of Paul’s, of chance standing by and comparing the shortness of the time with the length of the matter, said unto them that stood about him, here is a gay goodly cast, foul cast away for haste. And a merchant answered him that it was written by prophecy.

Now then, by and by, as if it were for anger and not for covetise,Ardent, excessive, or inordinate desire; lust ( covetise, n. 1.a). the protector sent into the house of Shore’s wife (for her husband dwelled not with her) and spoiledStripped, despoiled ( spoil, v. 1.1.a). her of all that ever she had, above the value of two or three thousand marks, and sent her body to prison. And when he had a while laid unto her for the manner sake,Sake of appearances. that she went about to bewitch him, and she was of counsel with the lord chamberlain to destroy him, in conclusion, when that no colourPretext. could fasten upon these matters, then he laid heinously to her charge and the thing that she herself could not deny, that all the world wist was true, and that natheless every man laughed at to hear it then so suddenly so highly taken, that she was naught ofWicked with. her body. And for this cause (as a goodly continent prince, clean and faultless of himself, sent out of heaven into this vicious world for the amendment of men’s manners), he caused the bishop of London to put her to open penance, going before the cross in procession upon a Sunday with a taper in her hand.

In which she went in countenance and pace demure so womanly, and albeit she were out all attire save her kirtleOuter petticoat. only, yet went she so fair and lovely, namely while the wondering of the people cast a comely rudRedness, ruddiness ( rud, n.1 1). in her cheeks (of which she before had been most miss), that her great shame won her much praise among those that weremore amorous of her body than curious of her soul, and many good folk also, that hated her living and glad were to see sin corrected, yet pitied they more her penance than rejoiced therein, when they considered that the protector procured it more of a corrupt intent than any virtuous affection.

This woman was born in London, worshipfully friended,With many good friends. honestly brought up, and very well married (saving somewhat too soon), her husband an honest citizen, young and goodly and of good substance. But forasmuch as they were coupled ere she were well ripe, she not very fervently loved for whom she never longed. Which was happily the thing that the more easily made her incline unto the king’s appetite when he required her. Howbeit, the respect of his royalty, the hope of gay apparel, ease, pleasure and other wanton wealth was able soon to pierce a soft tender heart. But when the king had abused her, anon her husband (as he was an honest man and one that could his good, not presuming to touch a king’s concubine) left her up to him altogether. When the king died, the lord chamberlain took her, which in the king’s days, albeit he was sore enamored upon her, yet he forebear her, either for reverence or for a certain friendly faithfulness.

ProperAttractive. she was and fair; nothing in her body that you would have changed, but if you would have wished her somewhat higher. Thus say they that knew her in her youth. Albeit some that now see her (for yet she liveth) deem her never to have been well-visaged,Beautiful. whose judgment seemeth me somewhat like as though men should guess the beauty of one long before departed by her scalp taken out of a charnel house; for now is she old, lean, withered and dried up, nothing left but reviledWrinkled. skin and hard bone. An yet, being even such, whoso well advise her visage might guess and devise which parts, how filled, would make it a fair face.

Yet she delighted not men so much in her beauty as in her pleasant behavior. For a proper wit had she, and could both read well and write, merry in company, ready and quick of answer, neither mute nor full of babble, sometime taunting without displeasure, and not without disport.Play.

The king would say that he had [three] concubines in whom three divers properties diversely excelled: one the merriest; another the wiliest; the third the holiest harlot in his realm, as one whom no man could get out of the church lightly to any place, but it were to his bed. The other two were somewhat greater personages, and, natheless of their humility, content to be nameless and to forebear the praise of those properties. But the merriest was this Shore’s wife, in whom the king therefore took special pleasure. For many he had, but her he loved, whose favor, to sayeth truth (for sin it were to belie the devil), she never abused to any man’s hurt, but to many a man’s comfort and relief: where the king took displeasure, she would mitigate and appease his mind; where men were out of favor, she would bring them in his grace; for many who had highly offended, she obtained pardon; of great forfeituresTransgressions, violations of law ( forfeiture, n. 1.a). she got men remission; and finally, in many weighty suits, she stood many men in great stead either for none or very small rewards, and those rather gay than rich, either for that she was content with the deed self well done, or that she delighted to be sued unto and to show what she was able to do with the king, or for that wanton women and wealthy be not always covetous.

I doubt not some shall think this woman too slight a thing to be written of and set among the remembrances of great matters, which they shall specially think, that haply shall esteem her only by what they now see her. But meseemethIt seems to me. the chance so much the more worthy to be remembered, in how much she is now in the more beggarly condition, unfriended and worn out of acquaintance, after good substance, after as great favor with the prince, after as great suit and seeking to with all those that those days had business to speed, as many other men were in their times, which be now famous only by the infamy of their ill deeds. Her doings were not much less, albeit they be much less remembered because they were not so evil. For men use, if they have an evil turn, to write it in marble; and whoso doth us a good turn, we write it in dust, which is not worst proved by her, for at this day she beggeth of many at this day living, that at this day had begged if she had not been.

Then on the Tuesday following this sermon, there came unto the Guildhall in London the duke of Buckingham, accompanied with divers lords and knights, more than haply knew the message that they brought. And there in the east end of the hall where the mayor keepeth the Hustings,A court held in the Guildhall of London by the Lord Mayor, Recorder, and Sheriffs (or Aldermen), long the supreme court of the city ( husting, n. 2.2.a). the mayor and all the aldermen being assembled about him, all the commons of the city gathered before them, after silence commanded upon great pain in the protector’s name, the duke stood up, and (as he was neither unlearned and of nature marvelously well spoken) he said unto the people, with a clear and a loud voice, in this manner of wise:

Friends, for the zeal and hearty favor that we bear you, we becomenCome. to breakReveal. unto you, of a matter right great and weighty, and no less weighty than pleasing to God and profitable to all the realm, nor to no part of the realm more profitable than to you, the citizens of this noble city. For why, that thing that we wot well ye have long time lacked and sore longed for, that ye would have given great good for, that ye would have gone far to fetch, that thing we become hither to bring you, without your labor, pain, cost, adventure, or jeopardy.

What thing is that? Certes,Certainly. the suretySafety, security, freedom from danger ( surety, n. 2.4.a). of your own bodies, the quiet of your wives and your daughters, the safeguard of your goods: of all which things in times past ye stood ever more in doubt. For who was there of you all that would reckon himself lord of his own good, among so many grinsSnares, traps ( grin, n.1 1.a.). and traps as was set therefore, among so much pilling and polling,Extortion, plundering, robbing ( polling, adj.). among so many taxes and tallages,A tax levied upon feudal dependents by their superiors ( trifle, n.1). of which there was never end and oftentime no need, or if any were, it rather grew of riot and unreasonable waste than any necessary or honorable charge. So that there was daily, pilled from good men and honest, great substance of goods to be lashedSquandered. out among unthriftsProdigals, unthrifty people ( unthrift, n. 3.a). so far forth that fifteenths sufficed not, nor any of the usual names of known taxes; but under an easy name of benevolence and good will the commissioners so much of every man took, as no man would with his good will have given, as though the name of benevolence had signified that every man should pay, not what he himself of his good will list to grant, but what the king of his good will list to take, which never asked little, but everything was hawsedRaised, exulted, hoisted ( hawse, v.). above the measure: amercementsDiscretionary penalties levied by lords ( amercement, n. 1). turned into fines, fines into ransoms, small trespass to misprision,Mistaken or unjust suspicion ( misprision, n.1 3). misprision into treason.

Whereof I think no man lookethExpects. that we should remember you of examples by name, as though BurdetThomas Burdet was a Warwickshire landowner who cursed the name of Edward IV after the king had killed a prized deer on his property. After he was heard wishing the horns of the deer in the king’s body, he was arrested and executed for treason. were forgotten, that was for a word spoken in haste, cruelly beheaded by the misconstruing of the laws of this realm for the prince’s pleasure; with no less honor to Markham,Sir John Markham was Chief Justice of the king’s bench from 1462 to 1469, and was superseded from his position after refusing to automatically convict Thomas Cooke, lord mayor of London, of treason at the king’s command. then chief justice, that left his office rather than he would assent to that judgment than to the dishonesty of those that either for fear or flattery gave that judgment. What Cooke,Sir Thomas Cooke was lord mayor of London from 1462 to 1463 and was accused of treason for loaning money to Margaret of Anjou, the wife of the deposed Henry VI. your own worshipful neighbor, alderman and mayor of this noble city? Who is of you either so negligent that he knoweth not, or so forgetful that he remembereth not, or so hardhearted that he pitieth not that worshipful man’s loss? What? Speak we of loss? His utter spoil and underserved destruction, only for that it happed those to favor him whom the prince favored not. We need not, I suppose, to rehearse of these anymore by name, sith there be, I doubt not, many here present that either in themself or their nigh friends have known as well their goods, as their persons, greatly endangered, either by feigned quarrels or small matters aggreived with heinous names.

And also there was no crime so great of which there could lack a pretext. For sith the king, preventing the time of his inheritance, attained the crown by battle, it sufficed in a rich man a pretext of treason to have been of kindred or alliance, near familiarity or ledgerSlight. acquaintance with any of those that were at any time the king’s enemies, which was at one time and another, more than half the realm. Thus were neither your goods in surety, and yet they brought your bodies in jeopardy, beside the common adventure of open war, which albeit that it is ever the will and occasion of much mischief, yet is it never so mischievous as where any people fall at distanceDivision. among themself, nor in none earthly nation so deadly and so pestilent as when it happeneth among us, and among us never so long continued dissension, nor so many battles in the season, nor so cruel and deadly foughten, as was in the kings’ days that dead is, God forgive it his soul.

In whose time and by whose occasion, what about the getting of the garland, keeping it, losing and winning again, it hath cost more English blood than has twice the winning of France. In which inward war among ourself has been so great effusionSpilling, shedding ( effusion, n. 1.a). of the ancient noble blood of this realm that scarcely the half remaineth, to the great enfeebling of this noble land, beside many a good town ransacked and spoiled by them that have been going to the field or coming from thence. And peace, long after, not much surer than war. So that no time was there in which rich men for their money, and great men for their lands, or some other for some fear or some displeasure were not out of peril. For whom trusted he that mistrusted his own brother? Whom spared he that killed his own brother? Or who could perfectly love him, if his own brother could not?

What manner of folk he most favored, we shall for his honor spare to speak of; howbeit this wot you well all, that whoso was best, bear alway least rule, and more suit was in his days made unto Shore’s wife, a vile and abominable strumpet, than to all the lords in England, except unto those that made her their protector, which simple woman was well named and honest till the king, for his wanton lust and sinful affection, bereft her from her husband, a right honest, substantial young man among you.

And in that point, which in good faith I am sorry to speak of, saving that it is in vain to keep in counsel that thing all men know, the king’s greedy appetite was insatiable and everywhere over all the realm intolerable. For no woman was there anywhere, young or old, rich or poor, whom he set his eye upon, in whom he anything liked, either person or favor, speech, pace, or countenance, but without any fear of God or respect of his honor, murmur or grudge of the world, he would importunelyUrgently. pursue his appetite, and have her, to the great destruction of many a good woman, and great dolor to their husband, and their other friends, which, being honest people of themself, so much regard the cleanness of their house, the chastity of their wives and their children that they were lever to loseWould prefer to. all that they have beside than to have such a villainy done them.

And all were it that with this and other importableUnbearable. dealing, the realm was in every part annoyed, yet specially ye here, the citizens of this noble city, as well for that among you is most plenty of all such things as minister matter to such injuries, as for that you were nearest at hand, sith that near here about was commonly his most abiding. And yet, be ye the people whom he had as singular cause well and kindly to entreat as as any part of his realm, not only for that the prince, by this noble city (as his special chamber and the special well-renowned city of his realm) much honorable fame receiveth among all other nations, but also for that ye not without your great cost and sundry perils and jeopardies in all his wars, bare ever your special favor to his part, which your kind minds borne to the house of York. Sith he hath nothing worthily acquitted, there is of that house that now, by God’s grace, better shall, which thing, to show you, is the whole sum and effect of this our present errand.

It shall not, I wot well, need that I rehearse you again that ye have already heard of him that can better tell it, and of whom I am sure ye will better believe it. And reasonReasonable. is that it so be. I am not so proud to look therefore, that ye should reckon my words of as great authority as the preachers of the word of God, namely a man so cunning and so wise that no man better wotethKnows. what he should say, and thereto so good and virtuous that he would not say the thing which he wist he should not say in the pulpit, namely into which none honest man cometh to lie. Which honorable preacher, ye well remember, substantially declared unto you at Paul’s Cross, on Sunday last past, the right and title that most excellent prince Richard, duke of Gloucester, now protector of this realm, hath unto the crown and kingdom of the same.

For as that worshipful man groundlyThoroughly. made open unto you, the children of king Edward the Fourth were never lawfully begotten, forasmuch as the king (living his very wife dame Elizabeth LucyThe fictional name More gives to Edward IV’s lover, Lady Eleanor Talbot, to whom he was precontracted by dint of their prior relationship.) was never lawfully married unto the queen, their mother, whose blood, saving that he set voluptuous pleasure before his honor, was full unmeetlyEntirely unsuitable. to be matched with his; and the mingling of whose bloods together hath been the effusion of great part of the noble blood of this realm. Whereby it may well seem that the marriage was not well made, of which there is so much mischief grown. For lack of which lawful accoupling, and also of other things which the said worshipful doctor rather signified than fully explained, and which things shall not be spoken for me as the thing wherein every man forbeareth to say that he knoweth in avoiding displeasure of my noble lord protector, bearing, as nature requireth, a filial reverence to the duchess his mother, for these cause I say before remembered, that is, to wit, for lack of other issue lawfully coming of the late noble prince Richard, duke of York, to whose royal blood the crown of England and of France is by the high authority of parliament entailed, the right and title of the same is by the just course of inheritance, according to the common law of this land, devolutePassed down, devolved ( devolute, v. 1). and comen unto the most excellent prince, the lord protector, as to the very lawfully begotten son of the remembered noble duke of York.

Which thing well considered, and the great knightly prowess pondered, with manifold virtues which in his noble person singularly abound, the nobles and commons also of this realm, and specially of the north parts, not willing any bastard blood to have the rule of the land, nor the abusions before in the same used any longer to continue, have condescended and fully determined to make humble petition unto the most puissantPowerful. prince, the lord protector, that it may like his grace, at our humble request, to take upon him the guiding and governance of this realm, to the wealth and increase of the same, according to his very right and just title. Which thing, I wot it well, he will be loath to take upon him, as he whose wisdom well perceiveth the labor and study, both of mind and of body, that shall come therewith to whosoever so well occupy that room,Office. as I dare say he will if he take it. Which room, I warn you well, is no child’s office. And that the great wise man well perceived when he said: Veh regno cuius rex puer est, Woe is that realm that has a child to their king.

Wherefore so much the more cause have we to thank God that this noble personage, who is so righteously entitled thereunto, is of such a sadMature. age and thereto of so great wisdom joined with so great experience; which albeit he will be loath, as I have said, to take it upon him, yet shall he to our petition in that behalf more graciously incline if ye, the worshipful citizens of this the chief city of this realm, join with us the nobles in our said request. Which for your own weal we doubt not but ye will, and natheless I heartily pray you so to do, whereby you shall do great profit to all this realm, beside in choosing them so good a king and unto yourself special commodity,Advantage. to whom his majesty shall ever after bear so much the more tender favor, in how much he shall perceive you the more prone and benevolently minded toward his election. Wherein, dear friends, what mind you have, we require you plainly to show us.

When the duke had said, lookedExpected. that the people (whom he hoped that the mayor had framed before) should after this proposition made, have cried, King Richard! King Richard!—all was hushed and mute, and not one word answered thereunto. Wherewith the duke was marvelously abashed, and taking the mayor near to him, with the other that were about him privy to that matter, said unto them softly, What meaneth this that this people be so still?

Sir, quod the mayor, perchance they perceive you not well.

That shall we mend, quod he, if that will help.

And by and by, somewhat louder, he rehearsed to them the same matter again in other order and other words, so well and ornately, and natheless so evidently and plain, with voice, gesture, and countenance so comely and so convenient that every man much marveled that heard him, and thought that they never had in their lives heard so evil a tale so well told. But were it for wonder or fear, or that each looks that other should speak first, not one word was there answered of all the people that stood before, but all was as still as midnight, not so much as roundingWhispering ( rounding, n.1). among them by which they might seem to comen what was best to do.

When the mayor saw this, he with other partners of that counsel drew about the duke and said that the people had not been accustomed there to be spoken unto but by the Recorder,A magistrate or a judge whose oral statements were considered the highest evidence of fact ( recorder, n.1). which is the mouth of the city, and haply to him they will answer.

With that, the Recorder, called Fitzwilliam,Sir Thomas Fitzwilliam, Recorder for London, who served as Speaker of the House of Commons from 1489 to 1490. a sadWise. man and an honest, which was so new come into that office that he never had spoken to the people before—and loath was with that matter to begin, notwithstanding thereunto commanded to by the mayor—made rehearsal to the commons of that the duke had twice rehearsed them himself. But the Recorder so tempered his tale that he showed everything as the duke’s words and no part of his own. But all this nothing no change made in the people, which alway after one, stood as they had been men amazed.

Whereupon the duke roundedWhispered. unto the mayor and said: this is a marvelous obstinate silence.

And therewith he turned unto the people again with these words:

Dear friends, we come to move you to that thing which peradventure we not so greatly needed, but that the lords of this realm and the commons of other parties might have sufficed, saving that we such love bear you and so much set by you that we would not gladly do without you that thing in which to be partners is your weal and honor, which, as it seemeth, either you see not or weigh not. Wherefore we require you give answer one or other: whether you be minded, as all the nobles of the realm be, to have this noble prince, now protector, to be your king, or not.

At these words the people began to whisper among themself secretly, that the voice was neither loud nor distinct, but, as it were, the sound of a swarm of bees, till at the last, in [the nether] end of the hall, bushmentAmbush. of the duke’s servants and of Nesfield’s,John Nesfield, a squire of the body to Richard III. and other longingBelonging. to the protector, with some prentices and lads that thrust into the hall among the press,Crowd, throng. began suddenly, at men’s backs, to cry out as loud as their throats would give: King Richard! King Richard! and threw up their caps in token of joy. And they that stood before, cast back their heads, marveling thereof, but nothing they said. And when the duke and the mayor saw this manner, they wisely turned it to their purpose and said it was a goodly cry and a joyful to hear, every man with one voice, no man saying nay.

Wherefore, friends, quod the duke, since that we perceive it is all your whole minds to have this nobleman for your king, whereof we shall make his grace so effectual report that we doubt not but it shall redoundReverberate, echo ( redound, n. 1). unto your great weal and commodity. We require ye that ye tomorrow go with us, and we with you, unto his noble grace, to make our humble request unto him in manner before remembered. And therewith, the lords came down, and the company dissolved and departed, the most part all sad, some with glad semblance who were not very merry, and some of those that came thither with the duke, not able to dissemble their sorrow, were fain, at his back, to turn their face to the wall while the dolor of their heart burst out at their eyne.Eyes.

Then on the morrow after, the mayor with all the aldermen and chief commoners of the city, in their best manner appareled, assembling themself together, resorted unto Baynard’sRichard staged his wooing at Baynard’s Castle purposefully. His brother, Edward IV was crowned there, and being only a short distance from St. Paul’s, it was near to where his pro-Richard sermons were preached. The castle was destroyed in the Great Fire of London. Castle where the protector lay. To which place repaired also, according to their appointment, the duke of Buckingham with divers noble men with him, besides many knights and other gentlemen. And thereupon, the duke sent word unto the lord protector of the being there of a great and honorable company to move a great matter unto his grace.

Whereupon the protector made difficulty to come out unto them but if he first knew some part of their errand, as though he doubted and partly distrusted the coming of such number unto him so suddenly without any warning or knowledge, whether they came for good or harm. Then the duke, when he had showed this unto the mayor and other, that they might thereby see how little the protector looked for this matter, they sent unto him by messenger such loving message again, and therewith so humbly besought him to vouchsafe that they might resort to his presence to purposeExplain. their intent, of which they would unto none other person any part disclose, that at the last he came forth of his chamber, and yet not down unto them, but stood above in a gallery over them, where they might see him and speak to him, as though he would not yet come too near them till he wist what they meant.

And thereupon the duke of Buckingham first made humble petition unto him, on behalf of them all, that his grace would pardon them and license them to purpose unto his grace the intent of their coming without his displeasure, without which pardon obtained, they durst not be bold to move him of that matter. In which, albeit they meant as much honor to his grace as wealth to all the realm beside, yet were they not sure how his grace would take it, whom they would in no wise offend.

Then the protector, as if he was very gentle of himself and also longed sore to witKnow. what they meant, gave him leave to purpose what him liked, verily trusting, for the good mind that he bear them all, none of them anything would intend unto him ward, wherewith he ought to be grieved.

When the duke had this leave and pardon to speak, then waxed he bold to show him their intent and purpose, with all the causes moving them thereto, as ye before have heard, and finally to beseech his grace that it would like him of his accustomed goodness and zeal unto the realm, now with his eye of pity, to behold the long continued distress and decay of the same, and to set his gracious hands to the redress and amendment thereof by taking upon him the crown and governance of this realm, according to his right and title lawfully descended unto him, and to the laudPraise. of God, profit of the land, and unto his grace so much the more honor and less pain, in that never a prince reigned upon any people that were so glad to live under his obeisance as the people of this realm under his.

When the protector had heard the proposition, he looked very strangely thereat and answered that all were it that he partly knew the things by them alleged to be true, yet such entire love he bear unto king Edward and his children, that so much more regarded his honor in other realms about than the crown of any one, of which he was never desirous, that he could not find in his heart in this point to incline to their desire. For in all other nations, where the truth were not well known, it should peradventure be thought it were his own ambitious mind and device to depose the prince and take for himself the crown. With such infamy he would not have his honor stained for any crown, in which he had ever perceived much more labor and pain, the pleasure to him that so would so use it, as he that would not, were not worthy to have it. Notwithstanding, he not only pardoned them the motion that they made him, but also thanked them for the love and hearty favor they bear him, praying them, for his sake, to give and bear the same to the prince, under whom he was and would be content to live; and with his labor and counsel, as far as should like the king to use him, he would do his uttermost ’deavorDuty. to set the realm in good state, which was already in this little while of his protectorship (the praise given to God) well begun, in that the malice of such as were before occasion of the contrary—and of new intended to be—were now, partly by good policy, partly more by God’s special providence than man’s provision, repressed.

Upon this answer given, the duke, by the protector’s license, a little rounded as well with other noblemen about him, as with the mayor and Recorder of London. And after that, upon like pardon desired and obtained, he showed aloud unto the protector, for a final conclusion, that the realm was resolved king Edward’s line should not any longer reign upon them, both because they had so far gone that it was now no surety to retreat, as for that they thought it for the weal universal to take that way, although they had not yet begun it. Wherefore, if it would like his grace to take the crown upon him, they would humbly beseech him thereunto. If he would give them a resolute answer to the contrary, which they would be loath to hear, then must they needs seek, and should not fail to find, some other nobleman that would.

TheThe Page. man had a high heart and sore longed upward, not rising yet so fast as he had hoped, being hindered and kept under by the means of Sir Richard Ratcliffe and Sir William Catesby, which, longing for no more partners of the prince’s favor, and namely, not for him, whose pride they wist would bear no peer, kept him by secret drifts out of all secret trust. Which thing this page well had marked and known. Wherefore this occasion offered of very special friendship, he took this time to put him forward and, by such wise, do him good that all the enemies he had, except the devil, could never have done him so much hurt.

For upon this page’s words king Richard arose (for this communication had he sitting on the draught,Stool. an appropriate carpet for such a council) and came out into the pallet chamber,A sleeping area containing straw mattresses ( pallet chamber, n.). where he found in bed Sir James and Sir Thomas Tyrrell, of person alike and brethren of blood, but nothing of kin in conditions.Qualities. Then said the king merrily to them: What, sirs, be ye in bed so soon? and calling up Sir James, break to him secretly his mind in this mischievous matter, in which he found him nothing strange.

Wherefore on the morrow, he sent him to Brakenbury with a letter, by which he was commanded to deliver Sir James all the keys of the Tower for one night, to the end he might there accomplish the king’s pleasure in such thing as he had given him commandment. After which letter delivered and the keys received, Sir James appointed the night next ensuing to destroy them, devising before and preparing the means.

The prince, as soon as the protector left that name and took himself as king, had it showed unto him he should not reign, but his uncle should have the crown. At which word the prince, sore abashed, began to sigh and said: Alas, I would my uncle would let me have my life yet, though I lose my kingdom. Then he that told him the tale, used him with good words and put him in the best comfort he could. But forthwith was the prince and his brother both shut up, and all other removed from them, only one, called Black Will or William Slaughter except, set to serve them and see them sure,Safe. After which time the prince never tied his points,The ribbon or cord that attached hose to a doublet, or fastened a shoe ( point, n.1 23.a). ought wroughtLooked after. of himself, but with that young babe, his brother, lingered in thought and heaviness till this traitorous death delivered them of that wretchedness.

For Sir James Tyrrell devised that they should be murdered in their beds. To the execution whereof, he appointed Myles Forrest, one of the four that kept them, a fellow fleshedHardened, experienced. in murder before time. To him he joined one John Dighton, his own horse-keeper,A groom responsible for caring for horses ( horse-keeper, n.)., a big, broad, square strong knave. Then all the other being removed from them, this Myles Forrest and John Dighton about midnight (the selyInnocent, harmless ( seely, adj. 5). children lying in their beds) came into the chamber, and suddenly lappedEnfolded, enwrapped ( lapped, v.2 1.a). them up among the bedclothes—so bewrapped them and entangled them, keeping down by force the featherbed and pillows hard unto their mouths, that within a while, smoredSuffocated ( smore, v. 1.a). and stifled, their breath failing, they gave up to God their innocent souls into the joys of heaven, leaving to the tormentors their bodies dead in the bed.

Which after that the wretches perceived, first by the struggling with the pains of death, and after long lying still, to be thoroughly dead, they laid their bodies naked out upon the bed, and fetched Sir James to see them. Which, upon the sight of them, caused those murderers to bury them at the stair-foot, meetly deep in the ground, under a great heap of stones.

Then rode Sir James in great haste to king Richard and showed him all the manner of the murder, who gave him great thanks and, as some say, there made him knight. But he allowed not, as I have heard, the burying in so vile a corner, saying that he would have them buried in a better place because they were a king’s sons. Whereupon they say that a priest of Sir Robert Brakenbury took up the bodies again and secretly enteredBuried. them in such a place as by the occasion of his death, which only he knew it could never since come to light.

Very true is it, and well known, that at such time as Sir James Tyrrell was in the Tower, for treason committed against the most famous prince, king Henry the Seventh, both Dighton and he were examined and confessed the murder in manner above written, but whither the bodies were removed, they could nothing tell. And thus, as I have learned of them that much knew and little cause had to lie, were these two noble princes—these innocent, tender children, born of most royal blood, brought up in great wealth, likely long to live, to reign, and rule in the realm—by traitorous tyranny taken, deprived of their estate, shortly shut up in prison, and privily slain and murdered, their bodies cast God wot where by the cruel ambition of their unnatural uncle and his dispiteousPitiless, merciless ( dispiteous, adj.). tormentors.

Which things on every part well pondered, God never gave this world a more notable example, neither in what unsuretyInsecurity. standeth this worldly weal, or what mischief worketh the proud enterprise of a high heart, or finally, what wretched end ensueth such dispiteous cruelty. For, first, to begin with the ministers: Myles Forrest at St. Martin’s piecemeal rotted away; Dighton, indeed, walks on alive in good possibility to be hanged ere he die; but Sir James Tyrrell died at Tower Hill, beheaded for treason. King Richard himself, as you shall hereafter hear, slain in the field, hacked and hewed of his enemies’ hands, harriedDragged. on horseback dead, his hair spitefully torn and tugged like a cur dog. And this mischief that he took within less than three years of the mischief that he did.