Engraved portrait of Edward II with caption beneath.

The true Portraiture of King Edward the
Second King of England & Lord of Ireland
Duke of Aquitaine etc: He Raigned 19. yeares &
Seven Months: Buried at Glocester:

F. sculpsit.



Of the most unfortunate Prince
King Edward II.

Choice Political Observations on Him
and his unhappy Favourites,
Gaveston & Spencer:

Several Rare Passages of those Times,
Not found in other Historians.

Found among the Papers of, and (supposed to be)
Writ by the Right Honourable

Henry Viscount Faulkland,
Sometime Lord Deputy of Ireland.

London: Printed by A.G. and J.P. and are sold by John
, at his Shop near the Temple-Church, 16801680.



Henry Cary, Viscount
Faulkland, (among whose Papers
the following History was found) was
born at Aldnam in Hertford-shire;
his extraordinary Parts, being a most accomplish’d
Gentleman, and a complete Courtier,
got him such an Esteem with King James, (who
for his great Learning and Sagacity is stiled
The English Solomon) that he thought him
a Person fitly qualified to be Lord Deputy of
Ireland, (the Government of which place
required at that time a Man of more than ordinary
Abilities) which Trust he very well discharged.
Being recalled into England, he
lived honourably here, ’till by an unfortunate
accident he broke his Leg in Theobald’s Park;
of which soon after he died. He was a Person
of great Gallantry, the Ornament and Support
of his Countrey, which he served with no less A2Faith- A2v
Faithfulness and Prudence abroad, than Honour
and Justice at home, being an excellent
Statesman. During his stay at the University
, his chamber was the Rendevouz
of all the eminent Wits, Divines, Philosophers,
Lawyers, Historians, and Politicians
of that time; from whose Conversation he became
Eminent in all those Qualifications.

The Subject of the following History (supposed
to be written by the above-mentioned
Nobleman) is the unhappy Lives, and untimely
Deaths, of that Unfortunate English
King Edward the Second, and his two Favourites
Gaveston and Spencer; “for his immoderate
love to whom”
, (says Dr. Heylin, “he
was hated by the Nobles, and contemned
by the Commons.”
“This King” (saith
Sir Richard Baker) “was a comely Person,
and of great strength, but much given to
drink, which render’d him unapt to keep any
thing secret. His greatest fault was, he loved
but one, for if his Love had been divided, it
could not have been so violent; and though
Love moderated be the best of Affections, yet
the Extremity of it is the worst of Passions.
Two Virtues were eminent in him, above all
his Predecessors, Continence and Abstinence;
so continent, that he left no base Issue behind A3r
behind him; so abstinent, that he took no
base Courses for raising Money.”

Our Author closes his History without declaring
the Particulars of the Murder of this
Prince, wherefore I shall give you an account
therof, as I find it set down by the aforesaid
Sir Richard Baker.

“Many ways were attempted to take away
his Life. First, they vexed him in his Diet,
allowing him nothing that he could well endure
to eat, but this succeeded not: Then they
lodged him in a Chamber over Carrion and
dead Carcases, enough to have poisoned him;
and indeed he told a Workman at his Window,
he never endured so great a misery in all his
Life; but neither did this succeed. Then they
attempted it by Poysons, but whether by the
strength of his Constitution, or by the Divine
Providence, neither did this succeed. At last
the pestilent Achitophel, the Bishop of Hereford,
devised a letter to his Keepers, Sir Thomas
, and Sir John Mattrevers,
blaming them for giving him too much liberty,
and for not doing the Service which was exs
pected from them; and in the end of his
Letter wrote this Line, ‘Edvardum occidere
nolite timere bonum est’
; craftily contriving it A3vit in this doubtful sence, that both the Keepers
might find sufficient warrant, and himself
excuse. The Keepers guessing at his meaning,
took it in the worst sence, and accordingly put
it in Execution. They took him in his Bed,
and casting heavy Bolsters upon him, and
pressing him down, stifled him; and not content
with that, they heated an Iron red hot, and
through a Pipe thrust it up into his Fundament,
that no marks of Violence might be seen; but
though none were seen, yet some were heard;
for when the Fact was in doing, he was heard
to roar and cry all the Castle over. This was
the lamentable End of King Edward of Carnarvan,
son of King Edward the First,”

What became of the Actors and Abettors of
this deep Tragedy, Sir Winston Churchill
tells us in these words, with which I shall conclude.

“Poor Prince, how unkindly was he treated,
upon no other account but that of his own overgreat
kindness! Other Princes are blamed for
not being ruled by their Counsellors, he for
being so: who whilst he lived, they would have
him thought to be a sot, but being dead, they
could have found in their hearts to have made
him a Saint. How far he wrong’d his people doth A4r
doth not appear, there being very few or no
Taxations laid upon them all his time; but
how rude and unjust they were towards him, is
but too manifest. But their violence was severely
paid by Divine Vengeance, not only upon
the whole Kingdom, when every Vein in the
Body Politic was afterwards opened, to the endangering
the letting out of the Life-blood of
the Monarchy in the Age following; but upon
every particular Person consenting to, or concern’d
in his Death. For as the Throne of his
Son that was thus set in Blood (though without
his own guilt) continued to be imbru’d all his
Reign, which lasted above fifty Years, with
frequent Executions, Battels, or Slaughters;
the Sword of Justice, or his own, being hardly
ever sheath’d all his time: So ’tis said, that
the Queen her self dyed mad, upon the apprehension
of her own, in Mortimer’s disgrace, who
was executed at Tiburn, and hung there two
days to be a spectacle of Scorn. The King’s
Brother Edmond had this punishment of his
Disloyalty, to be condemn’d to lose his Head
for his Loyalty, it being suggested (and happy
it had been for him if it had been prov’d) that
he endeavoured the Restoration of his Brother;
his Death being imbitter’d by the mockery of
Fortune, whilst by keeping him upon the Scaffold
five hours together, before any body could be A4v
be found that would Execute him, he was deluded
with a vain hope of being saved. The
Fiend Tarlton, Bishop of Hereford, who
invented the cursed Oracle that justified the
Murderers, dyed with the very same Torture,
as if the hot Iron that sear’d his Conscience had
been thrust into his Bowels. Of the two Murderers,
one was taken and butcher’d at Sea,
the other dyed in Exile, perhaps more miserable.
And for the Noblility in general, that
were Actors in the Tragedy, they had this
Curse upon them, that most of their Race were
cut off by those Civil Discords of their divided
Families, to which this strange Violation gave
the first beginning, not long after.”

B1r 1

The Life of
Edward II.
King of

Edwardthe Second, born at
Carnarvan, was immediately after
the death of Edward the First his
Father, crowned King of England.
If we may credit the Historians
of those times, this Prince was
of an Aspect fair and lovely, carrying in his outward
appearance many promising predictions of a
singular expectation. But the judgment, not the
eye must have preheminence in the censure of
Human passages, the visible Calender is not the
true character of inward perfection, evidently
proved in the Life, Reign, and untimely Death
of this unfortunate Monarch.

B His B1v 2

His Story Eclipseth this glorious Morning,
making the noontide of his Soveraignty full of
Tyrannical oppressions, and the Evening more
memorable by his Death and Ruine. Time, the
discoverer of truth, makes evident his imposture,
and shews him to the World, in Conversation
light, in Will violent, in Condition wayward,
and in Passion irreconcileable.

Edward his Father, a King no less Wise than
Fortunate, by his discreet Providence, and the Glory
of his Arms, had laid him the sure Foundation
of a happy Monarchy. He makes it his last care
so to inable and instruct him, that he might be
powerful enough to keep it so. From this Consideration
he leads him to the Scotish Wars, and
brings him home an exact and able Scholar in the
Art Military. He shews him the benefit of Time
and Occasion, and makes him understand the right
use and advantage. He instructs him with the
precious Rules of Discipline, that he might truly
know how to obey, before he came to command
a Kingdom. Lastly, he opens the closet of his
Heart, and presents him with the politic Mysteries
of State, and teacheth him how to use them by
his own Example, letting him know, that all these
helps are little enough to support the weight of
a Crown, if there were not a correspondent
worth in him that wears it.

These Principles make the way open, but the
prudent Father had a remaining task of a much
harder temper. He beheld many sad remonstrations
of a depraved and vicious Inclination, these
must be purified, or his other cautions were useless
and to little purpose. A corruption in Nature; that B2r3
that by practice hath won it self the habit of being
ill, requires a more than ordinary care to give it
reformation. Tenderness of Fatherly Love abuseth
his belief, and makes him ascribe the imperfections
of the Son, to the heat of Youth, want
of Experience, and the wickedness of those that
had betray’d his unripe Knowledge, and easie
Nature, with so base impressions. He imagins,
Age, and the sad burthen of a Kingdom, would
in the sence of Honour, work him to thoughts
more innocent and noble; yet he neglects not the
best means to prepare and assure it. He extends
the height of Entreaty, and useth the befitting
severity of his paternal Power, making his Son
know he must be fit for a Scepter, before he enjoy
it. He takes from him those tainted humours of
his Leprosie, and enjoyns him by all the ties of
Duty and Obedience, no more to admit the Society
of so base and unworthy Companions. Gaveston, the
Ganimede of his affections, a Man, as base in birth
as conditions, he sentenceth to perpetual Exile.

The melancholy Apparitions of this loth to
depart, gives the aged Father an assurance, that
this Syren had too dear a Room in the wanton
Cabinet of his Son’s heart. He strives to enlighten
his mind, and to make him quit the memory of
that dotage, which he foresaw in time would be
his destruction. But death overtakes him before
he could give it perfection, the time is come, that
he must, by the Law of Nature, resign both his
Life and Kingdom.

He summons his Son, and bequeaths him this
dying Legacy, commanding him, as he will in
another day answer his disobedience, never to B2repeal B2v4
repeal his sentence. To his Kindred and Peers,
that with sad Tears, and watry Eyes, were the
companions of his Death-bed, he shortly discourseth
the base conditions of this Parasite, and
lets them understand, both their own, and the
Kingdom’s danger, if they withstood not his return,
if it were occasioned. They knew his injuctions
were just, and promise to observe them,
he is not satisfied till they bind it with an Oath,
and vow religiously to perform it. This sends him
out of the World with more confidence, than in
the true knowledge of his Son’s wilful disposition
he had cause to ground on.

The Father’s Funeral Rights performed, Edward
in the pride of his years undertakes the Crown,
and guidance of this glorious Kingdom. He glories
in the advantage, knowing himself to be an absolute
King, and at liberty; yet thinks it not enough,
till the belief of the Kingdom did equally assure
it. He esteems no Act more proper to confirm it,
than running in a direct strain of opposition against
his Predecessor’s will and pleasure. The strong
motives of his violent affection suggests reasons,
that the Majesty of a King may not be confined
from his dearest pleasure. When he was a Son,
and a Subject, he had witnessed his obedience,
being now a King and a Soveraign, he expects a
correspondance of the same nature. Where there
was so ready an inclination in the Will, Reason
found strength enough to warrant it, which made
him make Gaveston’s return the first Act of his Soveraignty.
No protestation of his Lords, nor persuasion
of his Council, can work a diversion, or
win so much as a befitting respect. The Barons that B3r5
that were unable to withstand, are contented to
obey, attending the issue of this so dangerous a
resolution. Where the News was so pleasing, the
Journey is as sudden, Gaveston loseth not a minute,
till he felt the embraces of his Royal Lord and

Edward having thus regained his beloved Damon,
is so transported with his presence, that he forgets
the will and ordinary respect due to the greatest
Lords and Pillers of his Kingdom; and hence proceeds
their first discontent and Murmur. Many
ways are invented to dissolve this enchantment,
but none more fit and worthy then to engage him
in the sacred knot of Wedlock. The Interest of a
Wife, was believed the only remedy to engross or
divert these obscured, which they beheld
so loosely and unworthily prostituted. Isabel,
the Daughter of the French King, the goodliest
and obscuredof her time, is moved, and
the obscuredplausibly accepted.

This sends Edward, scarce a King of nine
Months standing, into France, and brings him
back, seas’d of a Jewel, which not being rightly
valued, occasioned his ensuing Ruin. The excellency
of so sweet and vertuous a companion could
not so surprize her Bridegroom, but Gaveston still
kept possession of the fairest room in his affections.
He makes it more notorious by creating him Earl
, and the Gift of the goodly Castle
and Lordship of Wallingford.

Gaveston applies himself wholly to the humour
of the King, and makes each word that falls from
his mouth an Oracle; their affections go hand in
hand, and the apparent injustice of the one never B3obscured B3v6
found contradiction in the other. The Subjects
Voice was so fortunate, that it was always concurrent
where the King maintained the party: If
the discourse were Arms, Gaveston extoll’d it as
an Heroic Vertue; if Peace, he maintained it
not more useful than necessary; unlawful pleasure
he stiled a noble Recreation; and unjust Actions,
the proper and becoming Fruits of an absolute
Monarchy. These Gloses so betray the willing
ear that heard them, that no Honour is thought
good and great enough for the Reporter. The
greatest Commands and Offices are in the person or
disposure of Gaveston. The command of War,
and all Provisions Foreign and Domestic, are committed
solely to his care and custody. All Treaties
for Peace or War had their success or ruin by his
direction and pleasure. The King Signed no Dispatch
private or public, but by his consent or appointment.
So that all men believed their Soveraign
to be but a meer Royal shadow, without a real
substance. Neither was it enough to advance him
beyond his desert, or the rules of a modest proportion;
But his Power must be made more extant in
the Commitment to the Tower of the Bishop of
, whom he quarrels as the occasion of his
first banishment.

These insolencies, carried with so great a height
and contempt, are accompanied with all the remonstrances
of a justly grieved Kingdom. The ancient
Nobility that disdained such an Equal, justly exclaim
against the Iniquity of the time, that made him
their Superiour. The grave Senators, that understood
their own worths, are discontent to see themselves
rejected, while Upstarts, by Money or Favour, possess B4r7
possess the higher places. The Soldier that with
his Blood had purchas’d his Experience, laments
his own dishonour, seeing unworthy Striplings
advanced, while he like the ruins of a goodly
Building is left to the wide World without use or
reparation. The Commons in a more intemperate
fashion make known their griefs, and sad oppressions.

Gaveston, that both saw and knew the general
discontent, sought not to redress it, but with an
ill advised confidence strives to out-dare the worst
of his approaching danger. Lincoln, Warwick,
and Pembroke, whose noble hearts disdained the
o’regrown height of this untimely Musherompt,
let the King know their fidelity, and his apparent
Error. He must free himself, and right them,
or else they will seek it in another Fashion.

Edward knew their Complaints were just, yet
was most unwilling to hear or relieve them; till
seeing their strong resolution, and himself wholly
unprovided to withstand the danger, he makes
his affections stoop to the present necessity, and
consents to a second banisment of his so dearly
beloved Favourite. Gaveston, in the height and
pride of his ambition, is enforced to leave his
Protector, and to make Ireland the place of his
Abiding. With a sad heart he takes his leave,
departing yet with a more desire of revenge, than
sorrow for his absence.

All things thus reconciled, the Kingdom began
to receive a new life; mens hopes were suitable
to their desires, and all things seem to promise a
swift and fair Reformation. But the bewitching
Charms of this wily Serpent made it soon evident, B4that B4v8
that alone his death must prevent his mischief.
The personal correspondency taken away, the
affections of the restless King becomes far more
violent. In the short interim of his absence, many
reciprocal and sweet messages interchangeably pass
betwixt them: Edward receives none, but he
returns with a Golden Interest. He is not more
sensible of his loss, than the Affront and Injury,
which persuades him, it were too great indignity
for him to suffer at the hand of a Subject: Though
with his own hazard he once more calls him home,
pacifying the incensed Lords with an assurance of
reconciliation and amendment. Those strict Admonitions
so fully exprest, were not powerful
enough to reclaim the Fondness of the one, and
Insolency of the other.

The King regaining thus his beloved Minion,
dotes on him in a far greater measure; and he to
make the Music perfect, is of a far more violent
temper. He affronts and condemns his Adversaries,
the ancient Nobility, surreptitiously wasting and
imbezelling the Revenues of the Crown. He enflames
the King’s heart, so apt to receive it with
all the motives of revenge, unquietness, and disorder.
The Jewels of the Crown, and that rich
Table and Tressels of Gold, are purloin’d and
pawn’d to supply this wanton Riot. He had so
true a knowledge of his Master’s weakness, that
he made him solely his. His Creatures were alone
prefer’d, his Agents were the guides, and no
man hath the King’s ear, hand, or purse, but such as
were by Gaveston prefer’d or recommended.

Edward in his voluptuous sensuality supplies the
place, but he had the sole execution of that Royal Pre- B5r9
Prerogative, that was alone proper to the Crown.
The Nobility, whose Lyon-hearts strugled betwixt
the sence of their just grief and allegiance, at
length resolve, the King as to himself, must be
so to them and the Kingdom, or they may no more
endure it. With grave and weighty Reasons,
they make the King know both the error and the
vanity of his Affections; letting him truly understand,
that they had a dear Interest, both in him
and the Kingdom, which they would no longer
suffer to be so abused and misguided.

Edward, being himself thus hardly prest, and
that no entreaty or dissimulation could prevail,
he must now set right the disorders of the Kingdom,
or have his work done to his hand, with
less honour and more danger. Once more he subscribes
to their will, which he sees he cannot withstand
or alter. Gaveston is again banish’d, and
makes Flanders, the next Neighbour, the place
of his reception. Infinite was the joy of the
Kingdom, who now expected a secure Freedom
from that dangerous Convulsion that threatned so
apparent an intestine ruin.

This their imaginary Happiness was made more
real and perfect, in the knowledge that Windsor had
blest them with an Heir Apparent. The Royal
Father is pleased with the News, but had not (whether
her his divining Spirit, or Gaveston’s absence were
the cause) those true expressions of joy that in
justice became so great a Blessing. The absence of
his Minion could not lighten his heavy Soul, but
all other comforts seemed vain and counterfeit, his
distracted brains take new and desperate resolutions;
he revokes the sentence of his grief, and vows B5v10
vows to justifie it against the utmost strength of

He that dares do those things that are dishonest
and unjust, is not asham’d to justifie and maintain
them: This Error gave this unfortunate King
more Enemies than he had Friends to defend them.
Kings that once falsifie their Faiths, more by their
proper Will than a necessary Impulsion, grow infamous
to foreign Nations, and fearful or suspected
to their own peculiar Subjects. He that is guilty of
doing ill, and justifies the action, makes it evident,
he hath won unto himself a habit of doing so, and
a daring impudence to maintain it by the protection,
of which he believes all things in a politic wisdom
lawful. This position may for a time flatter the
Professor, but it perpetually ends with Infamy,
which stands with Reason and Justice; for as vertue
is the Road-way to perfection, so is the corruption
of a false heart, the true path to a certain and an
unpittied ruin.

The enraged Barons are not more sensible of
their own disparagement, than the inconstancy
and injustice of their Soveraign. They think
this affront done to them and the whole Kingdom,
of too high a nature to be dispens’d with, yet
with a temperate resolution they a while attend
the issue. The Actions of injustice seldom lessen;
they believe progression to be in all things an excellent
Moral vertue. He that hath a will to do ill,
and doth it, seldom looks back until he be at the
top of the Stairs. This makes the ill affected return
of this our Favourite, more infamous and
hated. With an imperious storm he lets the Lords
know, he meditates nothing but revenge, and waits B6r11
waits a fit advantage to entertain it. They believe
time ill lost in so weighty a cause, and therefore
draw themselves and their Forces together, before
the King could prevent, or his abuser shun it.
The Clouds presaging so great a storm, he studies
the best means he could to avoid it. The general
distast of the Kingdom takes from him the hope of
an able party. Scarborough Castle his last refuge
he makes his Sanctuary, but it was too weak against
the number of his Enemies, and the justice of
their quarrel. He falls at length into the power of
those, from whom he had no cause to expect protection
or mercy. The Butterflies of the time,
that were the Friends of his Fortunes, not him,
seeing the Season chang’d, betake themselves to
the warmer Climate. His Greatness had won him
many Servants, but they were but Retainers, that
like Rats forsook the House when they beheld it
falling. The Spring was laden with many glorious
and goodly Blossoms, but the Winter of his Age
leaves him naked, without a Leaf to trust to.

In this uncomfortable case remains this glorious
Cedar, in the hands of those whom in his greater
height he had too much condemn’d and abused.
They resolve to make short and sure work, unwilling
to receive a command to the contrary, which
they must not obey, though it should come from
him to whom they had sworn Obedience. Forsaken,
unpittied, scorn’d, and hated, he falls under the
the hands of Justice. Gaverseed is the place which
gives the Epilogue to this fatal Tragedy, whence
his Adversaries return more satisfied than assured.

Thus B6v 12

Thus fell that glorious Minion of Edward the
, who for a time appeared liked a blazing
Comet, and sway’d the jurisdiction of the state of
England, and her Confederates. He did not remember
in the smiles and embraces of his lovely
Mistris, that she was blind, nor made himself such
a refuge as might secure him when she prov’d unconstant.
Such a Providence had made his end as
glorious, as his beginning fortunate, leaving
neither to the just censure of Time or Envy.

The King’s vexations in the Knowledge, are as
infinite as hopeless, his Passions transport him beyond
the height of Sorrow. He vows a bitter
revenge, which in his weakness he strives to execute
with more speed than advisement. The graver
Senators, that had most Interest in his favour,
mildly discourse his loss to the best advantage.
They lay before him his contempt and abusive carriage,
his insolence, Honour beyond his Birth,
and Wealth above his Merit, which must to all
Ages give a just cause to approve their Actions,
and his Fortune. The least touch of his memory
adds more to the King’s affliction, who is fixt not
to forget, or forgive, so bold and heinous a

The operations in the King were yet so powerful,
but the jealousies of the Actors are as cautelous,
so fair a warning-piece bids them in time make good
their own security. Lincoln, the principal Pillar
of this Faction, follows his Adversary to the
Grave, but with a much fairer Fortune. This
Man was a goodly piece of true Nobility, being in
Speech and conversation sweet and affable; in resolution
grave and weighty; his aged temper active above B7r13
above belief; and his wisdom far more excellent
in a solid inward knowledge, than in outward

When the harbinger of Death pluck’d him by
the Sleeve, and he saw and knew he must leave
the World, he calls unto him Thomas Earl of Lancaster,
that had married his Daughter, giving
him a strict Imposition on his Death-bed, that he
should carefully maintain the welfare of the Kingdom,
and make good his place among the Barons.
This reverend old Statesman saw the King’s ways,
and knew him to be a most implacable Enemy,
and with a kind of speculative prediction, would
often seem to lament the Misery of the time,
where either the King, Kingdom, or both must
suffer. The Son, whose noble Heart was before
seasoned with the same impressions, assures it,
which he in time as really performs, though it
cost him the loss of his Estate, Life, and

Things are too far past to admit a reconciliation;
the King’s Meditations are solely fix’d upon
revenge; and the Lords, how they may prevent,
or withstand it. The Kingdom hangs in a doubtful
suspence, and all Mens minds are variously
carried with the expectation of what would be the
issue. Meditation and intercession brings it at
length to Parliamentary discussion, which being
assembled at London, enacts many excellent Laws,
and binds both the King and Lords by a solemn
Oath to observe them. Thus the violence of this
Fire is a while suppressed, and raked up in the
Embers, that it may (in opportunity and advantage)
beget a great danger.

A B7v 14

A new occasion presents it self, that makes each
part temporize for a while, and smothers the
thoughts of the ensuing Rumour. Robert le Bruce
re-enters Scotland, whence he had been by Edward
the First
expuls’d, inverting all the English Institutions,
that had so lately setled the Peace and
subjection of the Kingdom. Edward, tender of
his Honour, and careful to preserve that purchase,
that had proved so dear a bargain, adjourns
his private spleen, and provides to suppress this
unlook’d for Rebellion. He knew the justice of
his quarrel, and wakens from the Dream, that
had given him so large a cause of sorrow. He
gives his intentions a small intermission, and a
less respite; with all speed he levies an Army, and
leads it with his own Person. Whether it were
the justice of Heaven, or his own misfortune or
improvidence, the Scots attend and encounter
him, making Eastrivelyn the fatal witness of his
disaster. His Army lost and defeated, he returns
home laden with his own shame and sorrow. His
return is welcomed with a strange Imposter, that
pretends himself the Heir of Edward the First,
and the King the Son of a Baker. A Tale so
weak in truth and probability wins neither belief
or credit. Voidras, this imaginary King, is
apprehended, and makes Northampton Gallows the
first Stair of his Preferment. His Execution is accompanied
with as strange a story, which suggests
the instigation of a Spirit, that in likeness of a
Cat, had for two years space advised it.

The King, with a true feeling grief, lamenting
his dishonourable Return from Scotland, where
his noble Father had so oft display’d his victorious Arms B8r 15
Arms, doth vow with a speedy rescue to revenge
it. He communicates his resolution with the
whole body of his Council, who are in their advice
equally concurrent in the Action. The former
loss exacts a more care, and a better provision.
York, as the fittest place, is made the Senate
of this grave Assembly. Thither resort all the
Sages of the Kingdom, and make it their first
deliberation to secure Berwick, that is one of the
Keys of the Kingdom, and exposed to the greatest
hazard. This Charge is given to Sir Peter Spalden,
who was believed able enough, both in fidelity
and valour. A short time discovers him truly
possest of neither. A small Sum of Money, with
an expectant Preferment promised, betrays the
trust reposed, and gives the Scots the full possession
of the Charge to him committed.

The Pope, wisely foreseeing into the misery of
this dissention, out of his Christian and pious
care, sends over two Cardinals, to mediate a
Peace and Agreement. They being arrived
in England, find the King well disposed, so the
Conditions might be reasonable, and such as might
become his Interest and Honour. They pass from
hence into Scotland, and are by the way with a
barbarous Example surprized and robb’d. The
King is infinitely discontented with so inhuman an
Act, which threw a taint upon the whole Nation.
Great enquiry is presently made, which finds out
the Actors, and sends Sir Peter Middleton, and
Sir Walter Selby, to a shameful and untimely execution.
Immediately at the heels of this follows
another Example, no less infamous, and full of
danger. Sir B8v16
Sir Gilbert Denvil, and others, pretending
themselves to be Outlaws, with a jolly Army, to
the number of Two hundred, ramble up and
down the Country, acting divers notorious Insolencies
and Robberies. The Fame of an attempt
so new and unexpected, without a speedy prevention,
seemed to intimate a greater danger. A
Commission is immediately sent out, which apprehends
the heads of this encreasing mischief and
delivers them over to the hand of Justice. They
which confest themselves out of the protection of
the Law, and glory in their being so, fall under
his rigour.

Those that duly examined the truth of this
action, believed the pretence to be but a Mask,
that hid a more perilous intention. The King, by
his untemperate and undiscreet actions, had lost
the hearts of his People, and there was a general
face of discontent throughout the whole Kingdom.
The Ulcers festered daily more and more,
which seemed to presage and threaten, without
some speedy prevention, a dangerous issue. All
Men discover their ill affections, expecting but
a Patron that durst declare himself, and adventure
to hang the Bell about the Cat’s Neck. If
this disorderly attempt, which was but to tast the
Peoples Inclinations, had succeded, the King
(as it was to be feared) had much sooner felt the
general loss, and revolt of his whole Kingdom.
But this work was reserved to future time, and
the operation of those, who had the time to effect
it with more power and pretence of Justice. The
crying Maladies of this Climat were such, that
the Divine Power sent down at one and the selfsamesame C1r17
instant his three fatal Executioners, Plague,
Dearth, and Famine, to call upon us for a repentant
Reformation. No part of the Kingdom is
free, but was grievously afflicted by the unmerciful
Prosecution of one, or all these fatal angry
Sisters. So great a Misery was too much, but it
is seconded with a sudden Invasion of the hungry
Scots, who apprehending the advantage of the
present Visitation, and ill Estate of their Neighbours,
like a Land-Flood, over-run the naked and
unprovided Borders.

The Archbishop of York, a grave and wise
Prelate in his Element, but as far from the Nature,
as Name of a Soldier, resolves to oppose this overdaring
and insolent Eruption. He levies in hast an
Army, in number hopeful; but it was compos’d
of Men, fitter to pray for the success of a Battel,
than to fight it. With these, and an undaunted
hoping Spirit, he affronts the Scots, and gives
them Battel, making Mitton upon Swale, that
honoured his Enemies with the Glory of a second
Triumph, the place of his Disaster. Many Religious
Church-men, with the purchase of their
Lives, begin their first Apprentiship in Arms;
whose loss christ’ned this overthrow The White

The intent of this grave Prelate was questionless
worthy of a great and singular Commendation, but
the Act was wholly inconsiderate, weak, and unadvised.
It was not proper for his Calling to undertake
a Military Function, in which he had no experience;
neither did it agree with his Wisdom or
Piety to be an Actor in Blood, though the occasion
were so great and weighty. Too much care Cand C1v18
and confidence improperly exprest, doth many
times overthrow and ruin the Cause it seeks to
strengthen and advantage. There ought to be in
all considerations of this nature, a mature Deliberation
before we come to Action, else we lose
the Glory of our Aims, and commit all to the
uncertain hazard of Time and Fortune. The Cardinals
are now returned out of Scotland, by whom
the King truly understands that the hopes of Peace
are desperate. Their leave taken, and losses fairly
repaired, they return to Rome, acquainting his
Holiness with the success of their Employment.
The Pope being truly informed, that the Scots
were neither conformable to his Will, or the general
Good, excommunicates both that usurping
King and Kingdom.

The King, nearly touch’d with the loss of Berwick,
enflamed with the Insolency of his barbarous
Enemies, and grieved with so great a loss of
his People, resolves no more to suffer, but to
transport the War into the very Bowels of Scotland.
To this effect, with speed he hastens out his
Directions, and gives present Order for the levying
of Men, Arms, and Money, to begin the
War, and continue it. The Royal Command,
and desire of Revenge, gives Wings to this Resolution.
An Army is ready, and attends the King’s
Pleasure, before he conceits his Will truly understood,
or bruited. Nothing is wanting but his own
Person, or a fit Commander to lead them; he
loseth no time, but appears in the Head of his
Army before his Enemies had the least knowledge
of this Assembly. With a hopeful Expectation he
leads them on, and makes Berwick the Rendezvous that C2r19
that should make his Number compleat and perfect.
Before this Strength that had the warranty of Art
and Nature, he makes the first Experiment of this
Expedition. The Town begirt, was not more
confident of their own strength, than assured of a
speedy supply or rescue. This gave the King a
longer delay than he believed, and his Enemies
leasure to raise and enable their Provisions. They
saw it a work too full of Danger and Hazard, to
venture the breach of the Body of so great an
Army, that in Worth and Number so far exceeded.
The memory of former Passages and Trials,
taught them how to understand their present condition;
this begets in them a Resolution more
solid and hopeful. They leave the Road-way, and
war rather by Discretion than Valour, which
succeeds so fortunately, that they surprize all the
English Provisions, and enforce the King to a second
Return, more Fortunate, yet much less Honourable.
It is true, he retreated, and brought back
his Army in safety, but he had quitted the Siege
which he had vowed to continue against the United
Power of Scotland, and lost wholly all that Wealth
and Luggage he had carried with him.

This fill’d all Men’s mouths with a complaining
Grief, and made Foreign Nations think the English
had lost their former luster, and renowned valour.
It was wondred, that an Enemy so weak and contemptible,
should three several times successively,
bear away the Garland from those, that had so
often, and knew the way so well to win and
wear it.

But now begins a second Fire of a higher Nature,
that made the Kingdom a Theater stain’d C2with C2v20
with the noblest Blood, that within her Confines
had or Life or Being. The King, discouraged
with his Foreign Fortune, lays aside the thoughts
of Arms, and recalls into his wanton Heart the
bewitching vanities of his Youth, that had formerly
bred him such Distemper. He was Royally
attended, but it was by those that made their
Tongues, rather the Orators of a pleasing falshood,
than a true sincerity. These were fit Instruments
for such an ear, that would not hear, unless the
Music answered in an even correspondency. The
Infidelity of the Servant is in a true Construction
the Misery of the Master, which is more or less
dangerous, as is the weight and measure of his
Employment. It is in the Election of a Crown a
principal Consideration, to chuse such Attendants,
whose Integrity may be the Inducement, as well as
the Ability, else the imaginary help proves rather
a Danger than Assistance. Neither is it safe or honourable,
for the Majesty of a King, to seem to depend
solely on the Wisdom, Care, or Fidelity of
one particular Servant. Multiplicity of able Men
is the Glory and Safety of a Crown, which falls
by degrees into confusion, when one Man alone
acts all parts, whence proceeds a World of Error
and Confusion.

The King was not ignorant, that such a course
would make such as were his but at second hand,
yet he resolves to make a new choice, of one to
supply the room of his lost beloved Gaveston.
Though his diseased Court was furnished with a
large variety, yet his Eye fixeth on Hugh, the
younger of the Spencers, who was always tractable
and conformable to the King’s Will and Pleasure.sure C3r21
This Man was in shew smooth and humble,
of an insinuating Spirit, one that knew his Master’s
ways, and was ever careful to observe them. He
had applied himself wholly to Edward’s will, and
fed his wanton pleasures with the strains of their
own Affection. Heat of Spirit, and height of
Blood consult more with Passion than Reason, and
a short Deliberation may serve, where the Subject
was so pleasing, and to each side agreeable.

The King, to make his Resolutions eminent,
with more hast than advisement, makes him his
Lord Chamberlain, and lets the World know, it
was his Love and Will that thus advanc’d him.
Scarcely is this new great Officer warm in his unbefitting
Authority, but he exactly follows his Predecessor-precedent
to the Life, making all things
lawful that were agreable to his Master’s Will, or
his fantastical Humour.

The Peers of the Kingdom, that saw the sudden
and hasty Growth of this undeserving Canker,
resolve to lop or root it up, before it should
o’retop their Luster. Spencer, that in the precedent
Story of Gaveston, beheld the danger of his
own condition, begins in time to provide and
strengthen a Party. His aged Father, fitter for
his Beads than Action, he makes a young Courtier,
and wins the King to give him Power and Assistance.
He labours to remove from his Master’s ear all such
as might endanger him, and supplies their places
with such as were his Creatures. Those that were
too high for such a surprisal, by Persuasion,
Money, or Alliance, he seeks to engage, and
make the Parties of this his coming Faction. The
Body of the Court thus assured, his Actions in C3the C3v22
the State went in an even Correspondency. Those
that held him at a distance, valuing their Fidelity
and Honour before so base an advantage, saw
themselves disgracefully cashier’d, and others installed
in their Rooms, that had neither Worth,
Birth, or Merit. The Factious Entertainers of his
proffered Amity, not only enjoy their own, but
are advanced higher, which made them but the
Instruments to act and further the Corruptions of
his Will and wicked Nature.

This Foundation laid, they now seem to contemn
all fear of danger, and in that assurance,
express their Contempt and Scorn against the Nobility,
who they knew would never entertain their
Society or Friendship. While thus the Rule and
Manage of all the Royal Affairs in their Power,
was daily more and more abused, the Incensed
Barons meet at Sherborough, where the Earl of
, the Prime Agent, lays before them
(in a short and grave Discourse) the Iniquity and
Danger that seemed eminently to threaten both
them and the whole Kingdom, if such a Resolution
were not taken, as might assure a speedy Prevention.
The Fore-knowledge of their Soveraign’s
Behaviour, which would observe no Rule or Proportion
in his immodest Affections, gave them small
hope to prevail by Persuasion or Entreaty. They
too well understood that Spencer’s Pride was too
great and haughty to go less without Compulsion,
and they must sink a Key, or neither the Kingdom
or themselves (against so Inveterate a Hatred)
could expect in reason Safety or Assurance. Hertford,
Mowbray, and Clifford, sore a higher pitch,
and in plain terms affirm, That all other Resolutionstions C4r23
were vain and hopeless, ’twas only Arms that
must right the Time and State so much disorder’d.
Benningfield and Mortimer approve this Resolution,
and as soon give it Life and Action. They enter
furiously on the Possessions of their Enemies,
spoyling and wasting like profess’d Enemies.

Such an Outrage flies with a nimble Wing to
the ears of the Owner, who as soon makes the
King the sharer of his Intelligence, and encreaseth
it to his own advantage. The King sensible of so
great an Affront, and as tender of the one, as cruel
to the other, publisheth by Proclamation the sentence
of his Royal Will and Pleasure. The Actors
of this Misdemeanor must appear and justifie themselves,
or presently forsake the Kingdom.

The Lords that saw their Interests at Stake, as
they had begun, resolve to maintain the Quarrel.
New Levies and Preparations are dayly made, to
make good the succeeding Issue. Yet the more to
justifie those Arms, that in the best construction
was deemed Rebellions, they send to the King a
fair and humble Message. The Tenour whereof
lets him know, their Intentions were fair and honest,
and the Arms thus levied, were rather to
defend, than offend his Person; only they in all
humility desire, he would be graciously pleased to
remove and punish those Vipers, which had too
near a Room in his Royal Heart, whereby they
had overthrown and undone the Peace and Tranquillity
of the Kingdom.

The King that fears, is enforc’d to believe:
he knew their Informations were just, and he had
no Power to deny, or withstand them. He assures
a Reformation; to make it more real, he adjourns C4it C4v24
it to the ensuing Parliament, which is immediately
summoned to appear at London. The jealous Lords,
that too well knew the cunning and hatred of their
malicious Adversaries, appear like themselves,
bravely attended with a Crew of lusty Yeomen
well Arm’d, which stiled this The Parliament of
White Bands
. The Major, seeing such a Confluence
from all parts of the Kingdom, so ill enclined
and well appointed, with a careful Providence
reinforceth the City Guards, and planteth a strong
Watch throughout all the strengths and parts of his

This great Assembly being now met, the complaining
Barons find in both Houses a ready Belief,
and as sudden a Censure. A solemn Declaration
gives the King knowledge of their Sentence, which
commands both the Spencers, Father and Son, into
perpetual Exile. The King, as weak in his disability,
as wilful in the least advantage, gives a
sad and unwilling consent; which being known,
gives the Spencers no time of Imparleance; their
Judgment is immediately put in Execution, and
they find more Servants than they desired to attend
them to Dover, where they are immediately ship’d
to go seek a new Fortune. The Elder, whose
Snowy age, and more Innocence, deserved Pity,
makes his Tears witness his true sorrow, and his
Tongue unfold them. He taxeth his Son’s Vanity
and Ambition, and his own Weakness, that had
so easily consented to his Ruin. He laments his
misfortune, that in the Winter of his Age had
cast him from his Inheritance, and had made him
the Sea-mark and scorn of a whole Kingdom. He
confesseth the folly, that led him (by indirect means) C5r25
means) to the preservation of his high and ill
acquired Greatness. He wisheth his carriage had
been such, that in this so sad a change of Fortune,
he might have found either Pity or Assistance.
But it is the inseparable Companion of Greatness
that is gotten in the By-way, and not by a just
Desert or Vertue. It labours to support it self
more by cunning and falshood, than by a sweet
and winning temper, when it is of all other the
most erroneous Maxim, that believes, Affections
can be in a subordinate way gotten or assured.
They are the proper Functions of the Soul, which
move alone in their own course, without force,
or the least impulsion. All other ways are but
Temporary Provisions, that serve the present advantage,
but he that by a just Desert wins the love
and belief of his worth, hath laid a sure Foundation,
making his Honour his own, and the Succession
hereditary and permanent, to his everlasting

These imperious Servants thus removed, the
Father, in obedience of his Doom, betakes himself
to a Foreign Quietness. The Son, of a more
turbulent and revengeful Spirit, keeps still a Seaboard
in the skirts of the Kingdom, and falling
short in Power, to requite the Authors of his
disgrace, he expresseth his malice to the whole
Nation. The Merchants free from all suspitions in
their Voyages and Returns, are pillaged and rifled,
and he the principal Actor.

Such a Domestic Piracy begets a general terror
and exclamation, which fills the King’s ears, and
presseth, (as it required) a speedy prevention or
remedy. He knew the Action was foul, but it was C5v26
was one of his own that had done it; and such a
one that was too dearly valued, to be either persecuted
or punished. He studies first to satisfie
his own Passion, before he right this injurious carriage
against the Subject. This makes him reject
the wholesome Admonitions of Friends, the Validity
of his Laws, and those fearful Apparitions
that present him with the danger of so foul an
Enterprize, while with an Example new, and full
of assured hazard, he repeals the sentence of their
Exile. This Act gave him too large a time of Repentance,
and may be a befitting instance to all
ensuing posterity. The Actions of a Crown are
Exemplary, and should be clean, pure, and innocent;
the stains of their Errors dye not with
them, but are registred in the story of their Lives,
either with Honour or Infamy.

But to proceed in this Historical Relation: The
Spencers thus recalled, and reinvested in their former
Favour, they express themselves in another
kind, and now by a strong hand strive to crush by
degrees all those of the adverse Faction. Sir Bartholomew
was the first that tasted their
fury and injustice. His Castle of Leedes in Kent,
under a pretended and feigned Title, is surprized
and taken from him, without a due Form, or any
Legal Proceeding. Their return, and the abrogation
of that Law that banished them, was provocation
enough, there needed not this second
Motive to enflame the hearts of the angry Barons.
But when the unjust Oppression of the Knight
(their Ally and Confederate) was divulged, and
came to their ears, they vow a bitter Revenge,
and make speed to put it in Execution. They see the C6r27
the Fruits of their dalliance, and long abused confidence,
and waken out of that slumber that had
fed him with the Chimera’s of so dull and cold a

The King, who formerly had been so often surprized,
in time arrives to provide a Remedy: he
knew his Arms and not his Tongue must plead the
injustice of his Actions, wherein if he again failed,
he feared another manner of Proceeding. The
Spencers, that evidently saw the eminency of their
own dangers, make it their Master-piece to crush
the Serpent in the head before it grew to perfection.
They knew the height of their Offences
were beyond the hope of mercy, and there was
no way left of assurance, but that, which they
must wade through in blood, and make good with
the Sword their Lives, or else be sure to lose them.
An Army is provided, and appears at Shrewsbury
almost before it was bruited. The first exploit
sieseth the two Mortimers, that had begun again
their former Invasion of the Spencers. Their
strength was great enough for such an Incursion,
but much too weak to withstand or encounter this
Royal Army. The first hansel so fortunate, gives
life to their Adversaries, and Imprisons them in
the Tower, before their Associates could be truly
informed, or ready to relieve them.

There is now left no time to dispute: The Barons
must with their Arms warrant their Proceedings,
or they must miscarry in the Action. They
had soon gathered a strength, with which they
resolve to encounter the King at Burton. The
knowledge of the great Power that came against
them, and their own Weakness, wins them to a retreat C6v28
retreat, not more dangerous than dishonourable.
But their Reasons were just and weighty; the Earl
had sent Sir Robert Holland to raise
his Tenants and Friends, which he hoped would in
time reinforce his Army.

Valence Earl of Pembrook, that commands his
Master’s Forces, seeing the disorder of their going
off, lays hold of the advantage, and chargeth
them so hotly, that they break and betake themselves
to their heels, with great losses and confusion.
Holland entrusted by the Earl of Lancaster,
having accordingly performed the work he was
employed in, marching up to the Rescue, is advertized
of the State of their Affairs, which makes
him seek his own Peace, and resign this supply
wholly up, to be disposed of at the King’s Will and
Pleasure. The Supply so unexpected is graciously
received, and there is a set resolution to employ it
to the best advantage.

The despairing Lords, with their Adherents
with much ado recover Pomfret, there a second
Deliberation is taken, which held it the safest
course to pass on, and to possess the Castle of Donstanborough,
which was deemed a strength tenable
enough until they could reinforce their Party, or
work their own Conditions. This Resolution is
presently attempted with more hast than fortune.
Sir Andrew Harkely meets and encounters them at
Burrowbrig, where Hertford, Clifford, and others,
died honourably, in maintaining a brave defence,
while Lancaster, Mowbray, and many of their
Adherents were taken, and with their Heads paid
the ransom of their Errors. The Spencers, like
two furious Tigers that had seized their Prey, give C7r29
give not their incensed Master leave to deliberate
on the weight of so sad a Work; the Lives of many
brave Subjects are taken away in an instant, and
each part of the Kingdom is stained with loss of
that noble Blood, that had been much more gloriously
spent in a Foreign War, than in these Domestic
and Civil Tumults.

Edward, that was apparently guilty of too
many other Vices, drowns their memory in this
so cruel and bloody a Tyranny. The wreaking
Blood of so many brave Gentlemen so unfortunately
and untimely lost, doth cry for vengeance,
and hurry on the destruction of the chief and principal
Actors. Mercy should precede the severity
of Justice, if not to all, yet to some, since they
were not alike guilty. If Lancaster had been of
so unnoble a Disposition, the Spencers had neither
had time nor cause to rejoyce in his Ruin. How
often had they by a full advantage had Power of
these their Enemies, yet made it evident, their
aims were not Blood but Reformation. And assuredly
in this their last Act, their Intents towards
the Crown were innocent in all other respects,
than the desire of supporting it with more Honour.
As things fell afterwards out, it had been to the
King a Happiness if their Arms had prevailed, for
this Victory was the principal and fundamental
Cause of his ensuing Ruin. Fear, and the expectation
of danger, kept both him and his Favourites
in a better temper, so long as there was so strong
a Bridle. Certainly in the Regiment of a Kingdom,
it is a wise and discreet Consideration to
maintain and uphold a divided Faction, and to
countenance them so, that the one may be still a coun- C7v30
counerpoise to the other; by this means the King
shall be more truly served and informed.

The Subject that is too far exalted, and hath no
one to contradict or question him, considers not
the Justice, but the Means to preserve him, by
which the Judgment of the King is taxed, and he
is robb’d of the Hearts of his People. The greater
the height, the stronger is the working to maintain
it, which seldom goes alone, but is accompanied
for the most part with those State-Actions of
Impiety and Injustice, which draws with it so perpetual
an envy and hatred, that it leads him headlong
to a fatal and dishonourable Conclusion.
Though the Fury of this enraged King had so fully
acted this bloody Tragedy, yet Mortimer is spared,
rather out of Forgetfulness than Pity, whose Life
had been more available than all these, that with
so great a speed had felt his Rigour. But he is
reserved for a second course, to teach the Spencers
that same legem talionis, and Edward, the plain
Song of his Error. The Kingdom seems now in
better Peace and setled; the principal Pillars of
the Common-wealth are taken away, and those
which remained are utterly disheartned in the daner
of so fresh an Example.

This gains such a liberty to these triumphing
Sycophants, that they make the whole Kingdom,
as it were, the just Fruits of an absolute Conquest,
The King approves and maintains their Actions,
giving them the Regal Power for their Warranty.
All kind of insolent and unjust Oppressions are now
confidently practised, without contradiction or
question. No Exaction or unlawful Action is left
unattempted, while the grieved Kingdom languishetheth C8r31
under the burden, yet durst not stir to redress
it. The great Ones suffer basely beyond their Birth
or Honour, yet look faintly one upon another,
not daring to revenge their Quarrel. The Commons
murmuring complain, yet find not a Man
that will give them heart or leading.

The watchful Spencers, that saw and knew the
general hatred, and infamy of their own conditions,
lessen not their height, or fear the Sequel.
With a politic care they use their best means to
prevent it. The King’s Humour naturally vicious,
they feed, with all the proper objects, that might
please or more betray his senses. They strive to
make him alike hateful to his Subjects, that in the
change of Fortune they might together run one
and the self-same hazard.

There is yet another piece of State to this great
work as proper. Edward is but a Man, and a
Creature in nothing more constant than his Affections,
yet these with age and time may alter, this
gap must be so stop’d, that they may be more assured.
Hugh, the younger of the Spencers, who
had a searching Brain, wise and active, believes
this work had two several dependences, the one
to keep him in continual Fear, the other in a perpetual
Want. These being marshalled with Discretion,
he knew would knit fast his Master’s Love,
and add to the opinion of his Wisdom and Fidelity;
imposing a kind of necessary Impulsion still
to continue him. In his Breast alone was lock’d all
the passages and mysteries of State, whereby he
was most able to provide for the future inconveniences.

From C8v 32

From this ground, with a kind of loose scorn,
he continues the French Correspondence, and secretly
contriveth a continuance of the Scotish Rebellion.
He omits no Act of Contempt against
the antient Nobility, that they might in the sence
of their disgrace be, or at least dayly threaten
some new Combustion. The confluence of so
many threatning dangers work the wished effect,
and keep the king in perpetual fear and agitation.
The ill success of his Armies, and Expeditions in
their Memory, help strongly to encrease it: Yet
is not his faithful Servant neglective in the second
and remaining part. He so orders his business
within doors and without, that the Royal Treasure
of the Crown is profusely wasted and spent without
Accompt or Honour. The antient Plate and
Jewels of the Crown are in the Lombard, and
their Engagement drowned, before it had the
warmth of a sure possession. The Subject is rack’d
with strange Inventions, and new unheard of Propositions
for Money, and many great Loans required,
beyond all proportion or order. Lastly,
the Royal Demeans are set at Sale, and all things
that might make Money within the Kingdom.

To supply these inconveniences, which are now
grown to a greater height than the Plotter of them
intended; a new Parliament is called at York,
where the elder Spencer is advanced to the Earldom
of Winchester
; and Harkely, another Chip of the
same Block, is made Earl of Carlisle. Baldocke,
a mean Man in Birth, Worth, and Ability, is
made Lord Chancellor of England.

In this Parliament, which was by Fear and
Favour made to his hand, he makes known the great- D1r33
greatness of his Want and Occasions, the justly
aggrieved Commons entring into a deep consideration
of the times, freely give the sixth Penny of
all the Temporal Goods throughout the whole

When this Act came to the general knowledge,
it utterly estranged the Hearts of the Subjects,
which plead an Impossibility to perform it, in respect
of those many former Exactions. Yet after
some light contestation it is levyed, no man daring
to make so much as a shew of resistance.

If we may credit all the Antient Historians,
who seem to agree in this Relation, there were
seen at this time many Sights, fearful and prodigious.
Amongst them no one was so remarkable,
as that which for six hours space shewed the glorious
Sun cloathed all in perfect Blood, to the great
Admiration and Amazement of all those that beheld
it. Following times, that had recorded it in
their Memories by the sequel, believed it the fatal
Prediction of the ensuing Miseries. Those that
more aptly censure the present view of a Wonder,
conceited, the just Heavens shew’d their incensed
Anger, for the Noble Blood of the Earl of Lancaster,
and his Adherents, so cruelly shed, without
Compassion or Mercy.

The Scots working on the condition of the times,
so much dejected and amazed, seize the advantage.
They saw by the last Parliamentary Proceedings,
that the King was so enabled, as the hope of any
Attempt in England, was altogether hopeless. Yet
they resolve to be doing somewhere within the
King’s Dominions, or at the least his Jurisdiction.
This draws them to assemble themselves, and to DAttempt D1v34
Attempt a surprisal of the Northern places of
Ireland. As the Action was vain, so the Success
proved as unfortunate; they are defeated, slain,
overthrown, and return not with the twentieth
part of their number.

The King remembring those many Indignities he
had suffered, and resenting this their last Attempt,
with an implacable scorn and anger, resolves to
let them speedily know that he meant to call them
to an after reckoning. Upon this he sends out his
Summons, to call his Men of War together, and
makes all Provisions be prepared, for this so constantly
resolved a Journey. His former Misfortunes
had instructed him to undertake this Design
much more strongly and warily. And this so
grave a Consideration brought him together the
remaining Glory and Strength of the greater part
of his Kingdom. With these he marcheth forward,
and invadeth the nearer parts of Scotland;
but whether it were the Infidelity of those about
him, the will and pleasure of Him that is the Guider
and Directer of Human Actions, or the unfortunate
Destiny of this unhappy King, he is enforc’d
to return, without doing any Act that is
truly worthy his Greatness or Memory.

The wily Scots, that durst not set upon the Face
of his Army, wait upon the Rear, and in a watch’d
opportunity, surprise his Stuff and Treasure. This
sends him home a third time a discontented Man,
and whether with a just Guilt, or to transfer his
own Fault upon others, the newly created Earl of
is put to a shameful Execution. The
Grounds against him were very probable, but not
certain, and it was enough that he is believed, like D2r35
like Judas, for Money to have sold his Master. The
principal Motive that may lead us to think he was
deeply faulty, was the Honour and Gravity of his
Tryal, which gave him, on a full hearing, so sincere
and sharp a Sentence.

Scarcely is the King settled, after his tedious
Journey, when comes a stranger News, That the
French King had made a Hostile Attempt upon the
Frontier parts of Guyen, which was seconded with
a Declaration, That he was no longer resolved to
entertain the Friendship or Peace with Englande.

This Feat had been cunningly before-hand
wrought by the secret working of Spencer, yet he
desired to have it still in Agitation, and not in
Action. He wisht his Master thence might be
possest with the fear of War, and not feel it. The
French were of another mind, they saw into the
great Disorders and Misguidance of England,
and thought it a fit time, either by War or Policy,
to unite so goodly a Branch of their Kingdom.
It is true, they had matcht a Daughter of France
to the Crown of England, and had solemnly swore
a Peace, but these they thought might be with
ease dispenst with on so weighty a Cause, and so
fair an Advantage. Edward seeing into the danger,
and taxing bitterly the Infidelity of the
French, begins to survey his own Condition,
whereby he might accordingly sort his resolution,
either to entertain the War, or to seek Peace
upon some Honourable, or at least reasonable Conditions.

He in this passage finds himself more hated and
feared, than beloved; he saw his Coffers empty,
the Scotish War and Surprisal had quite exhausted D2the D2v36
the Sinews of his last Parliamentary Contribution.
He feared the Inclination of the Subject would refuse
any further Supply, or in consenting, make
it conditional, which he was wholly unwilling to
undergo or adventure.

Lastly, The Misfortune that waited on him ever
since he was absolute, he feared had estranged and
dejected so the Hearts of his Soldiers, that they
would hardly be drawn forth, or act any thing
with their accustomed Valour and Resolution.
In this Distraction, he seeks not by the Advice of
a grave Council to qualifie or prevent it, this Medicine
he conceits worse than the Disease, but
calls unto him Spencer, the Cabinet of his Heart,
he alone is thought fit to communicate this deep
Secret, and to give the Resolution. His Father
Baldock, and the rest of that Faction, by his persuasion
and entreaty, are admitted to make the
Party greater, and the Discourse more serious
and likely. Before them is laid the Condition of
the King, the Estate of the Kingdom, their own
Danger, and the Intentions of their Foreign Adversary.
Many several ways are devised and advised,
and in conclusion, no one is believed more
sound and proper, than that the Queen should personally
mediate the Atonement with her Royal
Brother. This as it was cunningly laid, so had
it a double use and reflection. The Spencers saw
the Subject more inclinable to adore the rising
Sun, in which Act they thought the Queen’s Mediation
and Presence would be a dangerous Instigator.
They believed her absence could not work
such and so great an assistance as might countervail
the domestic danger. They knew the French light D3r37
light and inconstant, and those which with a kind
of natural fear, abhorr’d the English Wars, out of
the limit of their own Kingdom. And in the
worst construction they conceited Money, or a
resignation of that part was holden by the King
in France, would beget a Peace at their own will
and pleasure. Yet these Considerations were attended
with some doubts, which delayed and put
off the execution.

The Queen, who had long hated the Insolency
of the Spencers, and pitying the languishing Estate
of the Kingdom, resolves in her mind all the possible
ways to reform them. Love and Jealousie,
two powerful Motives, spurr’d her on to undertake
it. She saw the King a stranger to her
Bed, and revelling in the embraces of his wanton
Minions, without so much as a glance or look on
her deserving Beauty. This contempt had begot
in her Impressions of a like, though not so
wanton and licentious a Nature. She wanting a fit
Subject for her Affections to work on (her Wedlock
being thus estranged) had fixed her wandring
Eye upon the goodly shape and beauty of gallant
Mortimer. He was not behind hand in the reception
and comely entertainment of so rich and desired
a Purchase. But his last Act had lodg’d him
in the Tower, which was a Cage too strait to
crown their desires with their full perfection, yet
is there a sweet correspondency continued, Letters
and many loving Messages bring their Hearts
together, though their Bodies were divided.

By these is Mortimer informed of the Resolution
for the intended Journey of his Royal Mistress,
whom he vows to attend, or lose his Life D3in D3v38
in the adventure. The Queen understanding the
Intentions of her Servant, strives to advance her
dispatch, and hastens it with all her best indeavours.
But where was so great an Inconstancy, there
could be no expectation, that this Proposition should
be more assur’d or permanent. New delays and
doubts interpose, insomuch, that the hopes of
this Journey were now grown cold and desperate.

The Queen seeing her self deluded, and this opportunity
stoln from her, by those whom she before
so mortally hated, sets her own brains a working,
to invent a speedy remedy. She was therein
so fortunate, as to pretend a Journey of Devotion
and Pilgrimage to Saint Thomas of Canterbury,
which by her Overseers was wholly unsuspected.
Things thus prepared, by a faithful Messenger she
gives Mortimer the knowledge of her Design,
who prepares himself with a more dangerous Stratagem
to meet it. Her eldest Son, her dearest
comfort, and the chief spring that must set all
these wheels a going, she leaves not behind, but
makes him the Companion of her Travels.

The King’s Joy was great, that saw by this occasion,
he should gain a free liberty to enjoy his
stoln Pleasures, which were before so narrowly
attended by the jealous eyes of his Queen, that in
this kind had been so often wronged.

The aspiring Spencers were well pleased, that
to be assured would have given a free consent to
her perpetual absence. A short time brings her
to the end of so short a journey, where she makes
her stay of the same measure. Winchelsey had the
honour to have the last farewel of this pair of precious D4r39
precious Jewels. Thither comes Mortimer, having
made a fortunate Escape, and with the Earl
obscured1 letterane
resolves to venture his Life in the Attendance
and Service of so brave a Mistress. An Exploit
so weighty and dangerous gave no time of
stay or ceremony. They immediately Embark,
and make a tryal where they may find another
Climate more propitious and fortunate. The watry
Billows and the peaceful Winds, as if they
were consenting to their Enterprise, entertain
them with an aspect clear and quiet, sending them
with a fresh and pleasing Gale safe to their desired
Port of Bulloign.

The King and Spencers being truly enformed, are
startled with the matter and manner of their
Escape. They knew the Birds were too far flown
to be catcht or reclaimed; and did imagin the
Plot was too surely laid that had so prosperous a
beginning. Now all the former Resolutions are
useless; new Deliberations are required how this
Breach may be handsomly sodered, or the threatning
danger prevented. All other ways are deemed
short, that one of taking off the King of France
was believed most sure and easie. They knew the
French strain to be giddy, light, and covetous,
and applied themselves in the right Key to fit these
several humours.

The King, whose presaging soul misgave his
welfare, grows sad and melancholy, calling to
mind the Injustice of his own Actions, and the fair
Cause his Wife had to seek her right and refuge.
The neglect and breach of Wedlock was so great
an Error, but so to contemn so sweet and great a
Queen, was a fault, in his own thoughts, deserv’d D4a D4v40
a heavy censure. She had not only felt a particular
share of her own grief, but suffered deeply
in the general sorrow of the whole Kingdom.
Those which had erected their petty Tyrannies
over the Subject, were in like sort authoris’d by
him that ought to have had an equal share of her
affliction, more and more to abuse her.

The sad Imprssions of these Disorders, and the
reeking Blood of so many noble and brave Subjects,
so basely spilt, do seem to cry for Vengeance.
This, for a while, wrought deeply in his distressed
thoughts, but a small intermission brings him
back to his former temper. A customary habit
of a depraved Nature, dulleth the sense of the
Soul and Conscience; so that when our better Angels
summon us to restitution and repentance, the
want of a lively true apprehension, leads us blindfold
into a dangerous despairing hazard.

The French King having notice of his Sister’s
arrival, with a wondrouus plausible and seeming
Joy, doth entertain it with an honourable Attendance,
fitting more her Estate, Birth, and
Dignity, than her present miserable condition:
she is waited on to Paris, where she is soon Visited
by the Royal King, her Brother. When she beheld
the refuge of her hopes, she falls upon her
Knee, and with a sweetly coming modesty, she thus
begins her Story.

The King, unwilling to suffer such an Idolatry
from her that had a Father, Brother, and Husband
so great and Royal, takes her up in his Arms,
and then attends her Motives.

Great D5r 41

“Great Sir”, quoth she) “behold in me, your most
unfortunate Sister, the true Picture of a dejected
Greatness, and the essential substance of an unhappy
Wedlock. I have with a suffering, beyond the belief
of my Sex, overcome a world of bitter Tryals. Time
lessens not, but adds to my Afflictions; my Burthen is
grown too heavy for my long abused Patience. Yet
’tis not I alone, but a whole Kingdom, heretofore
truly glorious, that are thus unjustly wronged. My
blushing Cheek may give you knowledge, I too much
Honour the Cause of mine Affliction, to let my Tongue
discover it. Yet this in Duty and Modesty I may ingenuously
confess, My Royal Husband is too far seduced,
his Ear is too open, his Will too violent, and
his Heart too free, to those bewitching Syrens, that
make his Errors their Profit and Glory. All hope of
his return is lost, so long as they shall live, and remain
his Leaders. How many of his noblest and bravest
Subjects have attempted his freedom, and by an
unjust and inglorious Death miscarried? Alass! all
expectations are vain and desperate; if I had not
known the impossibility to disinchant him, I had not in
so mean and miserable a case stoln to you for Succour.
You have a fair way to make known to the World,
the truth of your own Glory and Goodness. Fortune
leads you by the hand to an Action not more Just than
Honourable, if you would dispute it. Can there be
a more precious Motive to invite you, than the view
of these unhappy Ruins? See here two Royal
Branches of the Flower-de-luce withering, sullied,
and depressed. Would you truly consider, how great
and noble a Work it is, to support those that are unworthily
oppressed, Heaven and Earth must witness the D5v42
the true value of your Worth and my Petition.
Let it not breed a Jealousie or Discouragement, that I
appear before you, and seek your help with so poor
a Train and mean Attendance. Besides the Justice of
my Cause, I bring with me the Griefs and Hearts of
a Kingdom, that have both Sworn and Vow’d to defend
it. Nor may you with reason doubt their Integrity,
while you have my wretched self, and the Heir apparent
to be your Pawn and Warrant. For God’s
sake, Sir, by your own Virtue and Goodness I desire
it, and in the challenge of that Royal Blood whereof
by the Laws of God, Men, and Nature, I have
so large a Share and Interest. Let not after Ages
taint your Memory with such an Aspersion, That
you are the first of all the Kings of France, that
denied to relieve a Sister so deeply wronged and distressed.”

She would have spoken more, but here the big
swoln Fountains of her watry Eyes discharge their
heavy burthen. Her Tears, like Orient Pearls,
bedew her lovely Cheeks, while she with a silent
Rhetoric invites a noble pity. Her sad Complaint
won a general remorse, and her liquid Tears, a
deep and strong compassion. Her Brother vows
Revenge, and promiseth to make England and the
World know she was his Sister.

The Lords and Peers of France tender their
ready help and assistance; the Service is so hotly
pursu’d, that the poor Queen, with an abused confidence,
believes she shall be speedily and strongly
righted. ’Twas not alone her Error, it is a general
Disease. We easily credit that News we most
desire and hope for.

The D6r 43

The Spencers, whose watchful eyes were soon
informed of these Passages, too late condemn their
own Improvidence and Folly, that gave the wronged
Queen so fit and fair an advantage. They fear
not all the Power of France, but suspect Intestine
danger, where they knew the Hearts of all were
alien’d and estranged. They well enough understood
the vanity of Female Passion, but suspect,
that the rising Son would be follow’d and admir’d,
whilst their declining Master would be left forsaken
and dejected. These Conceits work so deeply,
that they conclude they must fall, if they
could not stop the Foreign Danger. The English
were Cow’d, there was in them no fear, unless the
strangers strength gave them new Life and Spirit.
In so weighty a Cause there was no time left
for delay or dalliance. They dispatch presently
away their Agents to the French Court, laden
with the Treasure of the Kingdom, and many
glorious Promises. They instruct them how to
apply themselves to the Time and present Necessity,
and teach them the way to work and undermine
the Queen’s Proceedings.

These Messengers arriving at Paris, find the
French heat well qualified and cooled. This gave
them more time and hope, to bring their Master’s
Will and their own Imployment to a speedy perfection.
They set upon the Pillars of State, such as in
their Master’s Ear or in his Council had most sway
and preheminence: they give freely and promise
more, till they have won a firm and fair assurance.
No one had an Interest, and was known to be a
favourer of the adverse Party, but his Tongue is tied
with a golden Chain to a perpetual silence.

When D6v 44

When thus this Practice was ripe, the King is
persuaded of the danger and peril of so great and
weighty an Action. His Sister’s Reputation and
intemperate Carriage, though tenderly, is often
touched. A Woman’s Passion is believed too weak
a Reason to engage two so Warlike Nations in a
War, wherein themselves had formerly so often

The King, for all his first great and high Expression,
had much rather have to do with the
English in their own Kingdom than in France, yet
was well enough content not to try their Arms in
either. Yet still he feeds his sorrowing Sister
with good words, pretending many vain Excuses,
which made her suspect and doubt his meaning.
She arms her self with a noble patience, hopeful
at least, that she and her son might there remain
in peace and safety.

By the intercourse of Messages that had so
often pass’d and repass’d, the Spencers are assured,
that their Affairs in France went fairly on, by
which they were well onward in their Journey.

There could be yet no certain or assured confidence,
until they had again gotten the Queen
and her Son into Possession. No Promise or Persuasion
is left to win her to return, but her Ears
were stopt, she too well knew the sweet Enticements
of such alluring Serpents. This Project
falling short, a solemn Letter is fram’d from King
to the Pope, and a Messenger after their
own hearts appointed to carry it. The Contents
were full of Humility and Bitterness, complaining
to his Holiness, That his Wife had, without
just Causse, forsaken both Him and his Kingdom, carrying D7r45
carrying away his Son, the stay of his Age, without
his leave or license; a Traytor to Him and his
Crown, that had publickly acted a Rebellion, and
was taken and Imprison’d for it, had made an escape,
and was now her sole Companion; and though
he was not hasty to report or credit, yet he had
just causse to fear he was the abuser of his Wedlock.
The King of France, with whom he had
sworn so solemn and firm a League, being Summon’d,
had denied to restore her.

These goodly Glosses and Pretexts find a ready
passage, and an easie belief where there was none
to contradict, or justifie. If these Aspersions had
been as they were pretended, just and true, the Fact
had been odious, and justly deserved a fair and
speedy reformation. The greater Cardinals, that
were at that time most great and eminent, had
tasted deeply of the King’s bounty, which gave
the Pope a daily instigation to pity and reform
so great and gross an Error. On which an Admonition
is presently sent out to the French King,
that he cause immediately the Queen of England
to depart forth of his Dominions.

Whilst this device was in action, the English
discontented Barons send privily to the Queen,
informing her, that they were almost crush’d to
pieces with their suffering. They solicit her to
hasten her return, and promise really to engage
themselves and their Estates in her Quarrel. With
a joyful heart (as it deserves) she entertains this
loving proffer. And the more to advance her declining
Affairs, she instantly acquaints her Brother
with the tender. He had then newly received
his Summons from the Pope, which taking out of his Pocket, D7v46
Pocket, he delivers her back, wishing her to peruse
and read it. The amazed Queen, when she
beheld so sad a Sentence, falls humbly on her
Knees, and desires, That his Majesty would grant
her but so much favour, that she might more truly
inform his Holiness, and justifie her self by a fairer
and noble trial. With Tears she instanceth the
malice of her Adversaries, that had taken so strange
a course both to abuse and wrong her. Her Brother,
glad of such a Protection to shadow his
dishonourable and unnatural falshood, lets her
know the necessity of his Obedience, and that he
must not for her sake adventure the Censure and
Interdiction of himself and a whole Kingdom.
He wisheth her to arm her self with patience, and
to return and make a peace with her Husband, in
which Act himself would use both the persuasion
and strength of his best Power and Interest, letting
her withal know, that she had but a short
time to deliberate, for she must instantly leave his
Kingdom. Scarcely had he ended these his last
unwelcom words, when away he flings, with a
seeming discontented shew of sorrow, rejoyceing
inwardly, that he had freed himself of the Expence
of her Entertainment, and found so fair a colour
to avoid the Justice of her daily Importunity.

The drooping Queen, thus abandoned, with an
amazed grief, relates this unkind sad passage to
her faithful Servants, Cane and Mortimer. Their
valiant hearts make good the loss of their hopes;
they accuse the injustice of time, and exclaim
against the French unnatural baseness. Mortimer,
whose inflamed Passion flew a higher pitch, breaks
out, and with a bold freedom, would have fallen to D8r47
to a bitter Expostulation. The Queen, that knew
the danger, and was loth to hazard that little miserable
freedom she had left, with sweet and mild
persuasions reclaims him to a milder temper. She
had a second doubt, lest in such a contestation
she might be sent back against her will to her Husband.
This makes her temporize, and cunningly
seem to provide for a voluntary return, which
might prevent that danger. She failing in the
Master, yet tasts a-new his Servants, and leaves no
means unattempted to bring about and alter so hard
a strickt a Censure. They that were the first betrayers
of her hopes, do now with a more confidence
and constancy express it, and with one voice
sing the same Tune with their Master; declining
Misery, the touchstone of Friendship, finds it
self shunn’d, like some infectious Feaver. The
sunshine of Fortune hath as many Professors as
Beams, but if her Glory be once eclipsed, they
all, with a coward baseness, seek some other succour.
This Lesson, that is so frequent and familiar,
should guide our election more by judgment than
affection. They are not to be chosen or valued,
that in the pretence of Love, though it be for our
proper good or service, will act any thing that is
base and unworthy; the same in the least change
will not be squeamish, for a poor advantage to
confirm their former practice, though it be to our
loss or destruction. Where Virtue guides our
choice, it begins with truth and honour, ending
with a like resplendent glory. No worldly cross,
nor height of affliction, lessens the worth and value
of such a Friend, who, like a goodly Rock,
in fury of the greatest Storms, makes good his proper D8v48
proper station. Mutual correspondency in affections
ought to be pure and innocent; if private
respects taint the sincerity of the intentions, it
makes this traffick rather a commerce than friendship.
Opinion of faith is a powerful Motive, yet
not weighty enough, unless it become as well with
real ability, as appearance, the subject of our

But to proceed, The Queen being in this distressed
Agony, finds an unexpected refuge. The
gracious God of Heaven, who never forsakes those
which are his, sends her a comfort when her dying
hopes were almost sunk and desperate.

Robert of Artois, a Man as truly Valiant, as
Noble, was one of the first that in the French
Court had tendered the Queen his Service. He
was a wise, grave, and steddy, well resolved Gentleman;
his first Devotion was not led by matter of
Form or Complement, but was truly grounded on
a true Compassion and Honour. This brave Friend
beholding with a noble eye, the Vanity of his fellow
Friends and Courtiers, and looking into the
Misery of the Queens forsaken Condition, sets up
his rest to appear like himself, a Friend in all her
Fortune, firm and constant. In this resolution
he waits a fitting opportunity to let her see and
know it. The time was favourable, he finds her
in her melancholy Chamber, confused in her restless
thoughts, with many sad distractions. She
fancying the occasion of the coming of so great a
person was great and weighty, with a silent and
attentive Ear expects his Message.

Madam, E1r 49

“Madam”, (quoth he) “It is the most excellent part
of Wisdom, with an equal Virtue, to entertain the different
kinds of Fortune. This World is but a meer
composition of Troubles, which seems greater or less,
as is the quality of the Heart that entertains them.
I confess the Justice of your Grief, and truly share
it, but Tears and Sorrow are not means to relieve
or right you. The just Heavens assist those that
with an active and lively hope invoke their Succour.
The tenderness of your Sex, and former free Condition
is yet a stranger to these Trials; Time will let
you know they are the familiar attendants of our frail
structure of flesh and blood, when you will confess it
too great a weakness to sink under the burthen of our
Afflictions. For your own goodness (Noble Queen)
erect and elevate your thus dejected Spirits: behold
in me the Character of an unworthy, but true Friend,
that am resolved my Life and State shall attend and
run with you the self-same Fortune. You may no
longer make this unthankful Climate, the place of
your Birth, the stage of your abiding; the way is
pav’d with Gold to your destruction. Wherefore,
if my Advice may sway, let speed prevent your danger.
The confines of the sacred Empire are near adjoining,
where are many brave Princes, who may happily
afford you Succour; at the worst, you may there enjoy
a more assured peace and safety. Neither do I presume
to direct this course, but lay it humbly before you, offering
my faithful Service to attend you, to what part soever
of the Universal World your resolution shall fix on,
desiring you to be assured my Life, before my Faith shall
perish; for I have vow’d my self, and will continue your
everlasting Servant.”

E In- E1v 50

Infinitely was the Queen rejoyced in this so
grave and sincere an Expression, she doubles a
world of Promises and Thanks for this so free an
offer, and with a secret and wary Carriage she
speedily provides to begin her thus resolved Journey.
Though here she saw a far less appearance
of hope, when her dearest Brother, and her Native
Kingdom had forsaken her, yet she resolves
the trial rather than to return, without a more
assurance. She knew she had too far waded, and
incens’d her malicious Adversaries, to expect a
reconciliation, and feared to be mewed up from all
hope of future advantage. These Considerations
made her with a sad heart and weeping Eyes forsake
the fruitful limits of ingrateful France, and
betake her self to her last, but most uncertain
Refuge. The Condition that is truly miserable,
finds few real Friends, but never wants Infidelity
to increase its sorrow.

Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, who had fled to the
Queen, and made himself a sharer in this weighty
Action, forsakes her Party. He seeing the French
hopes vanished, and these remaining so poorly
grounded, thought to work his Peace by losing
his Faith, and in this conceit, in hast, returns for
England. His Intelligence reconciles and wins
him favour, but it was purchas’d at too dear a rate,
that stain’d the Honour of so high a Calling, and
made him most unworthy of so divine and grave a

By this Treachery, the King and Spencers understand
both the Queen’s Resolution and Weakness.
They fear not the German Motions, that were E2r51
were a dull sad Nation, that seldom use to fight
for nothing. Time hath at last brought out Royal
English Pilgrims to the shrine of their devotion.
The Earl of Heynault, a Man truly noble and virtuous,
understanding her arrival within the Precincts
of his Jurisdiction, gives her a free and loving
welcom. This bountiful honest Earl, esteems
it his glory to entertain so Princely Guests like
themselves, and to become the Patron of their so
weak condition. He had a Brother that made
his Arms the honour of his Profession, who thinks
the Estate of this forsaken Queen in justice deserv’d
a true relief and pity. He tenders her his
Service, and believes the occasion happily offer’d,
that might leave to ensuing Times the Memory of
his Virtue, Worth, and Valor.

So fair a Morning puts the Queen in hope the
Evening would prove as fortunate : By all those
winning graces of a distressed Beauty, she strives
to confirm and more engage this first and fair affection.

The Earl having knowledge of his Brother’s
resolution, thought the Attempt too full of hazard,
and with a grave and mild temper, commending
the nobility and greatness of his Spirit,
adviseth him to quit the Action; he lays before
him the weakness of the Foundation, the Queen
was in want of Men and Money, and had not such
a Correspondency in England, as might warrant
her against her incensed Husband, who was waited
on by so warlike and valiant a Nation. He in like
sort acquaints him, how impossible a thing it was
for him to raise such an Army as might credit the E2Cause, E2v52
Cause, and countenance the beginning. True Valor
consisting not in daring Impossibilites, but exposing
it self where Reason, Judgment, and Discretion
were the leaders.

Sir John with a quiet patience hears his Brother’s
Admonitions, which he knew sprung from
the freedom of an honest and a loving heart, but
he imagined Age had robb’d his Breast and Head
of all their Noble Vigor.

“Sir”, (quoth he) “If You and all the World forsake
this Noble Lady, my single Arm shall maintain
her Quarrel, since I had rather lose my Life than
my Faith, so full and freely engaged. After Ages
shall not blot the Glory of our House, so great and
noble, with so inglorious a stain of baseness and infidelity:
such Precedents are seldom seen, and ought to
be more tenderly regarded. A Queen and the Heir
apparent of so great a Crown pleading so just a pity,
nor may, nor shall be forsaken. If in the Reason of
State you list not to be an Actor, reserve your self, and
make not the King of England your Enemy. Know
I have both Arms and Friends, I will pawn them all,
rather than in the least degree falsifie my Word and

These words, spoken with such a resolution and
fearless bravery, stopt all reply and contradiction.
The Queen, that had already both a French and
an Italian Trick, had no less reason here to doubt
it. She knew no means would be left unattempted
from her Domestic Spies, to make her once more
forsaken. This enforceth her with a more Importunitytunity E3r53
to hasten and advance her Enterprise. All
the good Offices, that might spur on the enflamed
heart of her brave Protector, she makes the Handmaids
of her Female Wisdom. But alas they needed
not her careful Agent, they had quickly gotten
together a voluntary Troop of Three Hundred well
resolved Gallants, that vow themselves to follow
him even into the mouth of the Canon. He stays
not to encrease his number with a multitude, but
believes if there were an answering Correspondency
in the English, with these, to overrun the Kingdom.
Arms, Shipping, and all Provisions necessary
attend their coming. They, with the glory of
their hopes, lead the revived Queen a Shipboard.
Now do they expose themselves to the first tryal
of their Fortune, aiming at Donge Port to take
their hop’d pssession. The Heavens, that favoured
their Design, out of their present fear preserves
them beyond belief or expectation. Her Adversaries
had a forerunning knowledge of their intended
place of landing, and had there provided
to give them a hot and bitter welcom. The raging
Billows and the blustring Winds, or rather
the Divine Providence, after the second day’s extremity,
brings them aland safe at Orwel, near Harwich.
They were ignorant, being driven to and
fro by the violence of the Weather, what part
of the Kingdom they had light on; and were
as much distressed with the Unshipping of their
Men and Baggage, as with the want of Harbour
and Victual. Three whole days in disorder and
confusion they make the bleak and yielding Sands
their habitation, perceiving the vanity of their rash E3and E3v 54
and desperate Attempt, which in the least opposition
or encounter must have wrought their confusion.
It was in vain to attend longer here, where
they saw so small sign of better Entertainment;
this makes them march on with this little weatherbeaten
Troop, to win and Conquer a Kingdom.
St.Saint Hammonds, an Abby of black Monks, was honoured
with the welcom of their long lost Mistress;
here she and her Princely Son had their first Reception
and Entertainment.

The bruit of this Novelty, like a Welch Hubbub,
had quickly overtaken the willing Ears of
the displeased Commons. Who, ever desirous of
Innovation, like Bees, in swarms, do run to her
assistance. The Barons so depres’d and unjustly
grieved, with itching Ears attend the News of this
advantage. When the tydings of their arrival
came to their knowledge, with so liberal a relation,
which made her Army ten times greater than
it was, they lose no time for fear of some prevention.

Henry of Lancaster was the first, who was seconded
by many others of the braver Peers of the
Kingdom. By this means the Queen and her
adherent strangers lose the depth of that Agitation,
that till now had kept them doubtful.

The King, that till this time had slumbered out
the Prologue of this ensuing Danger, secure in
the belief of the Spencers Strength and Providence,
in so general a Revolt, awakens from his licentious
Pleasure, and beholds nothing but a grim and fearful
face of Sorrow. The Council of his Cabinet,
accompanied with their own guilt, are affrighted in E4r55
in the sad apparitions of their approaching ruin.
The time of prevention is lost, their abused confidence
had only labour’d to shut the Gate, but
not assur’d the Family. The present necessity admits
no long deliberation, this flame was too violent
to be quenched, and such a course is to be
taken as may rather assure them time to temporize,
than with a strong hand to strive to repel it.

The City’s Guard is recommended to Stapleton,
that had so unhappily, and with so little credit
changed his Master. The King and the Spencers
forsaken, but yet strongly attended with the guilt
of so many and so foul Errors, fly to Bristol, a
Town strong enough, and well provided. Arundel,
and the elder Spencer, undertake the defence of
the City, while the King and the others make
the Castle their hope and refuge.

The Queen being informed, that the King had
forsaken his Royal Chamber, and had stoll’n a flight
to Bristol, she soon apprehends, and lays hold of
the advantage, addressing a fair but mandatory
Letter to the Mayor, to keep the City to the use
of her and her Son, that was so like to be his Soveraign.
The inconstant Citizens, that ever cleave
to the stronger Party, are easily persuaded and entreated.
Stapleton, that foresaw and fear’d the
danger, summons the Mayor to surrender him the
Keys of the Gates for his assurance. Chickwell,
that was then Lord Mayor, incens’d with the Imperiousness
and Injustice of this Demand, apprehends
this inconsiderate Bishop, and without all
respect to his Place or Dignity, makes his Head
the Sacrifice to appease the angry Commons. This E4act E4v56
act had too far engag’d him to recoil, he must now
wholly adhere to the Queen’s Faction. Four of
the gravest and most substantial Burghers are sent,
to let her truly understand their Devotion. They
are graciously and lovingly received, the Mayor
hath thanks for his late bloody Act, which was
stiled an excellent piece of Justice.

This Gap thus stopp’d, with her Army she marcheth
to the Cage that kept those Birds, whose
Wings she would be clipping. She knew if she
struck not while the Iron was hot, the heat of a
popular Faction would quickly sink and lessen. All
the way of her Journey, she finds according to
heart’s desire, a free and noble welcom. Her
Troops, like Snow-balls, in her motion more and
more increasing. When she came before this great
and goodly City, she saw it was a strength by Art
and Nature, and did believe it furnished to outwear
a Siege of long continuance, which made
both her and her adherents more jealous, and
suspect the issue. Where the Person of an anointed
King was at stake, there could be no assurance.
But smiling Fortune, that had turn’d her wheel,
resolves this doubt, and makes the Action easie.
The Citizens, that knew not the Laws of War or
Honour, will not expose their Lives and Goods
to the mercy of the Strangers, and the hazard of
an unruly Conquest. They had too much tasted
the afflictions of the Kingdom, to think the Quarrel
just, or to adventure their Protection at so
dear a hazard, for those that had been the cause
and instrument of so much Blood and Trouble.

From E5r 57

From this Consideration they send an humble
Message to the Queen, and desire as well to capitulate
for their Commanders, as their own Interest.
All other Conditions are despised and dis
dained; if they will have Grace, they must purchase
it with the resignation and delivering up their
Captains. This doom was esteemed heavy, they
would have been glad that she had had her will,
but were themselves unwilling to be the Actors.
But the time no more Imparleance admitted, neither
could they have a delay or remedy. The
Queen, that had won so far upon their yielding
hearts, knew their Condition well enough, and
would not give them respit, but calls upon their
present Answer.

This round and smart Summons brings with one
and the same art, Arundel, Spencer, and the City,
into her possession. This part of the Prey thus gotten,
no time is lost to call them to a reckoning.
Sir Thomas Wadge, the Marshal of the Army, recites
a short Calendar of their large Offences,
when by a general consent they are approved
guilty, and without Judge, or other Jury, they are
sentenc’d to be drawn and hanged, and their Bodies
to remain upon the Gibbet. The rigour of
this doom, Spencer, the Father, feels, that was
Ninety years old, and could not long have liv’d
by the course of Nature.

The Castle-walls, and the eyes of the King, and
his unhappy Son, were witnesses of this sad Spectacle
and his disaster. This praludium gives them
the sence of their ensuing story, which with a
world of melancholy thoughts, they study to preventvent E5v58
or alter. A despairing resolution at length
wins them to a desperate hazard. While the Queen
was labouring to surprise their Fortress, which
was like too long to hold good, if some stratagem
were not found to get it, there were no Citizens to
betray them, it needed not, themselves were soon
the Actors. They steal into a small Bark that rode
within the Harbour, hoping by this means to
make an escape undiscover’d; they find the merciless
waves and winds a like cruel. Twice had they
gain’d St. Vincent’s Rock, but from that Reach were
hurried back with suddain Gusts and Tempests.
The often going off and return of this unguided
Pinnace, begets a shrewd suspicion. At length
she is surpriz’d, and in her Bulk is found that
Treasure that ends the War, and gave the work

The King is comforted with the smooth Language
of those which had the honour to take him,
and believes the Title of a King, Father, and
Husband, would preserve his Life, if not his Soveraignty.

The Queen having now made the Victory perfect,
no Enemy or other work remaining, resolves with
her self to use it to her best advantage. Yet she gives
her incensed passion preheminence, revenge must
precede her desire and strong ambition. No sooner
had Sir Henry Beamond brought the imprison’d
King and his dejected Favorite to the Army, but
she dispatcheth away her Husband to Barkley-
, and Spencer is deliver’d over to the Martial,
and immediately hath the like entertainment only,
he hath somewhat a longer time, and a far more cruel E6r59
cruel Sentence than his Father. All things thus ordered,
the Queen removes to Hereford, and in all the
places of her passage is welcomed with joyful Acclamations.
With a kind of insultant triumphing
tyranny, far unworthy the Nobility of her Sex and
Virtue, she makes her poor condemned adversary
in a strange disguise attend her Progress. He
was set upon a poor, lean, deformed Jade, and
cloathed in a Tabarce, the Robe in those days due
to the basest Thieves and Rascals, and so was led
through all the Market-Towns and Villages, with
Trumpets sounding before him, and all the spightful
disgraces and affronts that they could devise to
cast upon him.

Certainly this Man was infinitely tyrannical
and vicious, deserving more than could be laid upon
him, yet it had been much more to the Queen’s
Reputation and Honour, if she had given him a
fair and legal Tryal by his Peers, according to
that ancient and laudable Custom of England,
wherein by his death he might have given both
the Law and his Adversaries a full satisfaction.
It is certainly, give it what other title you will,
an argument of a wondrous base condition, to insult
or to tyrannize over those poor Ruins which
Fortune hath thrown into our power. A noble
pity is the argument of an honourable and sweet
disposition, and the life of Man is great enough to
expiate all offences. To satisfie our passions with
the bitterest extremity of our power, may justly
be stiled rather a salvage and barbarous Cruelty,
than true and perfect Justice. No question it was
a pleasing sight to all the wronged Subjects, to see such E6v60
such a leprous Monster so monstrously used. But
when the heat of blood was past, and men had recollected
their sences, it then appeared to be too
great a blemish to a Queen, a Woman, and a Victor.
But whether she were now weary with imposing,
or he with suffering, Hereford, on a lofty
Gibbet, of an extraordinary height, erected on
purpose, gives him the end of all his Torments.
Which being performed, Order is left behind
for the Execution of Arundel four days after, which
is accordingly performed.

I could never yet read a fair and just cause, why
this Earl lost his Life, unless it may be counted
Treason not to forsake his Lord and Master, to
whom he had so solemnly swore his Faith and Obedience.
It certainly was no such capital fault, to
accompany and seek to defend his Soveraign, when
he was by all others forsaken, that by their Vows
and Oaths ought to have been as deeply engaged.
If being taken with those that were so corrupt and
wicked occasion’d it, I see no reason, why he
alone was Executed, and those, that in their knowledge,
were his only Instruments and Creatures,
were suffered to live, and be promoted. But we
may not properly expect Reason in Womens
Actions, whose Passions are their principal guide
and mover.

Now she is come to London, and received with
all the Honour due to so great a Queen and Conquest,
the People croud to see her, and with applauding
shouts extol her, that in the least change
of Fortune would be the first should cut her Throat,
or do her any other mischief.

A E7r 61

A Parliament is immediately call’d and assembled,
in which the Pack was before-hand easily
laid, for Edward had lost the Hearts and Love of
all his People; the Errors and Abuses of the Kingdom
are there with too great a liberty against a Sacred
King yet living, laid open and discoursed.
All men were of one mind, a present Reformation
must be had, which, in a true construction, was but
a meer politic Treason. The three Estates presently
assent to the deposition of the Elder, and raising the
Younger Edward, to the sole Regiment and guidance
of the Kingdom; not a Peer, Bishop, Knight,
or Burgess, speaks a word in defence of him that
was their Master but; divers are sent from both
Houses to the yet King, to let him know their
Declaration. When they were come into his presence,
Trussel, Speaker in the lower House, in the
Name of the whole Kingdom, resign’d up all the
Homage due to him, and then pronounceth the Sentence
of his Deprivation.

Edward, that long before had notice of these
Proceedings, arms himself to receive it with patience.
He gives them back no Answer, knowing
a contestation or denial might hasten on his death,
and a consent had made him guilty by his own confession.

Thus did this unfortunate King, after he had
with perpetual agitation and trouble, governed
this Kingdom Eighteen Years, odd Months and
Days, lose it by his own Disorder and Improvidence,
accompanied with the treachery and falshood
of his own Subjects. And that which is most miraculous,
an Army of three or four hundred men, entred E7v62
entred his Dominions, and took from him the Rule
and Governance, without so much as a blow given,
or the loss of one Man more than such as perished
by the hand of Justice. In a declining Fortune
all things conspire a ruin, yet never was it seen,
that so great a King fell with so little Honour, and
so great an Infidelity. But what could be expected
when to satisfie his own unjust Passions, he had consented
to the Oppressions of his Subjects, tyranniz’d
over the Nobility, abus’d his Wedlock, and lost all
fatherly care of the Kingdom, and that Issue that was
to succeed him. Certainly it is no less honourable
than proper, for the Majesty and Greatness of a
King, to have that same free and full use of his
Affection and Favour, that each particular Man
hath in his œconomic Government; yet as his
Calling is the greatest, such should be his Care,
to square them always out by those Sacred Rules
of Equity and Justice; for if they once transcend
or exceed, falling into an extremity, they are
the Predictions of a fatal and inevitable Ruin.
Let the Favorite tast the King’s Bounty and enjoy
his Ear, but let him not engross it wholly, or
take upon him the sway and governaunce of all the
Affairs of his Master; this begets not more Envy
than multiplicity of Error, whose effects do for
the most part occasion a desperate Convulsion, if
not the destruction of that State where it hath
his allowance and practice. As Kings ought to
limit their Favours, so ought they to be curious in
the Election, for persons of baser or meaner quality
exalted, are followed at the heels with a perpetual
murmer and hatred.

Neither E8r 63

Neither is it safe or proper, that all the principal
Dignities or Strengths of a Kingdom should be
committed to the Fidelity of any one particular
Subject, though never so gracious or able. There
must be then a kind of Impulsive necessity still to
continue his Power, and approve his Actions, else,
having the Keys in his hand, he may at all times
open the Gates to a Foreign Trouble, or a Domestic

The Number of Servants, as it is the Master’s
Honour, so is the knowledge of their Ability
his Glory. Where by a discreet distribution, they
find variety of Imployment, and are indifferently
heard, both in Advice and Action, they more secure
their Masters safety and greatness. Kings, in their
Deliberations, should be swayed by the whole body
of a Council, and, in my opinion, should take it ill,
to have any Servant esteemed much wiser than his
Master. Their Royal Glory should be pure and
transparent, suffering not the least eclipse, or shadow:
Be the advice of a single Wit never so grave
and weighty, let the Act and Honour be solely
the Kings, which adds more and more to the belief
of his ability and greatness.

If once the Royal Heart be so given over to Sensuality,
that the befitting and necessary Cares of
a Kingdom seem a burthen, and by Letter of Attorney
assigned over to the Fidelity of another, he
is then by his own Indiscretion no more an absolute
King, but at second hand and by direction. It is
the Practic and not the Theoric Act of State that
aws and assures the heart of the Subject, this being
once doubtful or suspect, estrangeth the will of our E8v64
our Obedience, and gives a belief of liberty to
the Actions of Disorder and Injustice.

Neither is the Error and Imbecility of a Crown
more prejudicial to it self, than dangerous in the
Example. Majestic Vanities and Vices find a
ready imitation and practice, so that it may be
concluded, an ill King may endanger the Virtue
and Goodness of a whole Kingdom. Our Nature
is prone to the worser part, which we more readily
are inclined to practice, with the condition of
time, and so powerful and eminent a Precedent.

Kings that are subject to a natural weakness, or
grown to the practice of any other particular Error,
by corruption, should act their deeds of darkness
with such a reserved secrecy and caution, that
there be not a suspicion to taint him; for if it once
win an open knowledge, besides the particular
aspersion, it brings with it an ensuing supposed liberty
of Practice, both in Court and State, by his Example.

As these are most proper to the Affections, so
are there some as necessary Instructions for Kingly
Passions, which, of the two, are more violent and

Though it a while delay the concluding part of
this History, yet my Pen must not leave them untouched.
I must confess, if Man could master
and govern these rebellious Monsters, he might
justly merit rather the name of an Angel than a
mortal Creature. But this, in a true perfection,
is most impossible. It is yet in Divinity and all Moral
Construction, the most absolute Master-piece
of this our Pilgrimage, to dispose them so, that they F1r65
they wait on the operations of the Soul rather as
obedient Servants than loose and uncontrouled Vagabonds.
A King that is in these deficient, having
so unlimited a Power, and making his Will his
Law, in short time loseth the Honour of his Calling,
and makes himself a Tyrant. Intemperate
and heady Actions beget but disorder and confusion,
and if they end in blood without a warranty
of apparent Justice, or inevitable Necessity, they
cry to Heaven for a deserved vengeance. The
Law hath Advantages and Punishments enough for
those that lie at his mercy. Let not incensed hast
betray the Royality of a Crown, to make it self
both Judge and Executioner. Kings are Gods on
Earth, and ought in all their Actions to direct the
imitation after a Divine Nature, which inclines to
Mercy more than Justice. Mens Lives once lost cannot
be redeemed; there ought therefore to be a tender
consideration before they be taken, lest the injustice
of the actor in time be brought to suffer in the
same measure. As is the quality of the Fact, so is the
condition of his Agent to be maturely deliberated,
wherein there may be such dependencies, that it is
for the Crown more profitable, safe, and honourable,
to save, or delay the Execution of the Law, than
to advance or hasten it. Howsoever, it is the more
innocent and excellent way to offend in the better
part, and rather to let the Law, than once own
Virtue and Goodness to be visibly deficient, and
disesteemed. The Actions of Repentance are
numbred with the Register of our Misdemeanours,
where none appear more fearful than those, which
an inconsiderate Fury, or the violence of Passion, Fhath F1v66
hath acted with too much hast and cruelty. Let
then the height of so great and excellent a Calling
be suited with as sweet a temper, neither to precipitate
or slow, but with a steddy and well-advised

As these Considerations are in the one part
necessary, so ought there to be a correspondent
Worth and Care in him that hath the happiness
to enjoy in so great a measure his Royal Master’s
Ear and Favour. If the Actions of the King be
never so clear and innocent, yet he must favour or
protect the Error of so great a Servant, which
makes him an Accessary, if not an Actor, in the
unjust Oppression of his Kingdom. It is not discretion,
neither hath it any Society, with the well
grounded Rules of Wisdom, for the Subject to
exalt or amplifie the height of his own Glory, it
is in the Eye of all, too great a presuming Insolence,
and Kings themselves will rather alter their Affections,
than to be outshined or dazled in their own
Sphere and Element.

He that hath made his Master’s Love, and hath
ascended the Stairs of his Preferment, should
make the same Vertue the stay of his Advantage,
framing his carriage to his Equals and Inferiors,
with a like sweet and winning Temper. If he
swerve from this sacred Rule, and arrive to win
Fear, or a vain Adoration, let him know, the
first is the Companion of Trust and Safety, the
other of a jealous Diffidence, that must betray
his Life and Honour.

But to return to our History, which now removes
Edward the Father to Killingworth, where he F2r67 he remains under the keeping of the Earl of Lancaster,
while his unripe Son is crowned King, and
the Queen, with Mortimer, take into their hands the
whole Sway, and Administration of the Kingdom.
Their first Act sends Baldock the Lord Chancellour
to Newgate, a fit Cage for such a Haggard, though
far unworthy the Eminency of his height and dignity.

Now do the recollected Spirits of the Kingdom
begin to survey and examin the injustice of that
Act, that had disrobed and put down a King, their
unquestionable Soveraign, that had been so solemnly
Anointed, and so long enjoyed the Regiment
of the Kingdom: They find the condition
of their Estate but little altered, and according
to the vanity of their Hearts, are as ready to
attempt a new Innovation. Many Suits are made
to the King, and the Protectors, to release him
out of his Imprisonment, but all prove vain and
fruitless. The Black Fryers were in this request
more earnest, who in their denial, sought to
bring it to pass by force or surprisal. They make
Donhead, one of their number, their Captain,
but he knew better the use of Church-Ornaments,
than how to handle his Weapons, or manage an
Army; he is intercepted and sent to Prison, where
he dies, before he had so much as muster’d his

This Cloud dispersed, the Queen believes it a
fit time to take her leave of her assistant Strangers,
who mainly hasten their departure. She was unwilling
they should be witnesses to the unnatural
succeeding Tragedy, which was too much for her F2own F2v68
own Kingdom, and unfit for the Strangers Climate,
which was filled with the belief of her Vertue and
Honour. She liberally and freely requites to each
particular the minute of his Pains and Travel, but
Sir John of Henalt, and the better sort, are
honoured with many rich Jewels and Gifts,
besides continuing Annuities, and annual Revenues.
They hold themselves nobly contented,
and taking a solemn leave, are honourably attended
to Dover, leaving the Kingdom with a merrier
Eye, than when they first beheld it.

Now is the Earl of Lancaster, who, though he
had least cause, was nobly disposed towards his
old Master removed, and delivers over his Charge
by Indenture, to Sir Morice Barkeley, and Sir John
, who lead him back to his first place
of Imprisonment, where, in the presence of his
Keepers, he one day in a melancholy Passion,
doth thus discourse his Sorrows:

“Alas! Is my Offence so great, that it deserves nor
pity nor assistance? Is human Piety and Goodness so
wholly lost, that neither in Child, Wife, Servant,
or Subject, appears the least expression of Love or
Duty? Admit my Errors unexcusable, wherein I will
not justifie my self, nor accuse others: though it hath
taken from me the Glory of my former Being, I am
yet a Father and a Husband, these titles are without
the jurisdiction of Fortune. If I be so, where is the
Affection and Duty that becomes the Child, and Wedloc?
Sure my Misery hath not made me such a Basilisk or
Monster, that my sight should beget or Fear or Hatred;
can they believe a danger in the visitation of a poor distressed F3r 69
distressed Captive? I know their hardned Hearts are
not so noble and apt for Compassion, that they need
suspect themselves or me in so poor a courtesie. What
then occasions this neglect or estrangement? Are they
not content to enjoy all that was mine, as yet by the
Laws of God, Man, and Nature, but they must
despise and forsake my withered Ruines?
Alas! I know my poor Children are Innocent, both
they, and my injurious Queen, are betrayed by cunning
wicked Mortimer, whom if I had paid with his just
desert, when Heaven, and his own Guilt, had laid
him at my Mercy, I had not lived to endure this
Affliction, nor he to be the insulting Instrument of my
Dishonour. But Time, and this sad Trial, hath
taught me Patience, and learned me how to know the
height of my Misfortunes, which (if my divining
Spirit err not) will not be long unseen and unrevenged.
Am I unworthy to be seen? I am then unfit to
live, and will receive it as a well-becoming pity, if
my Death may send me hence from this so great a

When he had thus ended, and with a few manly
Tears smother’d in the depth of that heart-breaking
sigh that enforc’d his silence, he was by one
of his Attendance made this ruff uncivil Answer:

“My Lord, your Wife and Children are jealous,
and fearful of your cruel furious Nature,
whereof both they and the Kingdom have too
true a knowledge to trust you: Besides, they
are informed your resolution is fixed to do them
mischief, if they approach your danger. This F3“keeps F3v70
keeps your Queen from you, she once so truly

“My Queen”, (quoth he) “hath she that remaining
Title, while I that made her so am less than nothing.
Alas poor wretched Woman! Hath she, nor
could she find no other more tolerable excuse than this,
so faint a pretended fear and danger? Is there a possibility
in her suspicion? Or have I the means (if I were
so resolved) to do it, that am here a poor forsaken
Man, as far from Power as Comfort? And, fellow,
thou that takest so audacious and sawcy a Liberty, to
character thy Soveraign’s Disposition, which thou art
bound to Honour, and not to question: Know Edward’s
Heart is as free from thy base Aspersion, as thine from
Truth or Honesty.”

When he had ended these words, he retires
himself to his Chamber sad and melancholy, believing
his case was hard and desperate, when so
base a Groom durst face to face affront him. The
Queen and Mortimer revelling now in the height of
their Ambition and Felicity, had yet a wary Eye
to the main, which they knew did principally rest
on the safeguard and sure keeping of the deposed
King. Though they had all the marks and essential
parts of an absolute Soveraignty, the Name
alone excepted, yet they had unquiet and troubled
thoughts in the fear and imagination of losing it.
They saw their plausible Incomes was dully continued,
and there was a beginning murmur against
the manner of their Proceedings. They knew
there was no constancy in the People, that would be F4r71
be as ready to taken them off, as they were to bring
them on, in any new stirring or Innovation. The
Lords that were their principal Supporters were
content, but not satisfied, all things concurring to
make them suspect their own condition.

Edward the Father’s faults were extenuated,
his Vices ascribed to those that had betrayed him,
and his Estate infinitely pitied, that had so dishonourable
a usage, far short of what in justice appertained
to the honour of his first Calling. These
Reports made their Ears tingle, and incites them
in time to think upon some befitting Remedy.
Many ways and devices are thought upon, but
they all are subject to some manifest imperfection.
On this Mortimer falls to the matter roundly, and
tells the Queen plainly, That there is no way left
to make all sure, but absolutely to take away the
Cause, and to leave the Party by Edward’s death
hopeless, that by his life sought to make a new

The Queen, whose Heart was yet innocent of
so deep a Transgression, was deeply and inwardly
troubled with this unhappy Proposition. She believed
his sufferings were already greater than his
faults, and was unwilling to stain the opinion of
her worth and vertue, with so foul an Act of injustice.
She was assured it could not be so done,
but it would be discovered; if the Eyes of Men
could be blinded, yet that all-knowing power of
Heaven would reveal and punish it. Such deep
Actions of crying Sins are seldom long unrevenged,
which made her most unwilling that her
consent should pass, or be assistant. To kill a F4King F4v72
King, her Husband, that had once so dearly loved
her, was more than an Act of Blood, nor could
she expect, but that the Son grown up would revenge
the death of the Father. “Therefore” (quoth
she) sweet Mortimer, let us resolve rather any
other hazard, than this which is waited on with so
great Infamy and certain Ruin.”

Mortimer replies, “Madam, who hath the
benefit of time, and neglects the advantage,
if he fall is justly unworthy pity or compassion.
Have you exposed your self to all the bitter
Tryals of Fortune, and having overcome them according
to your desire, are you willing to return
to your own condition, and former sorrow? If
it be so, Mortimer is wretched in sacrificing his
Devotion and Heart to such a Female weakness.
In cases of extremity, a tenderness of
Conscience begets a certain danger, nor is it
disproportionable so to continue a Crown, that
by blood was gotten and surprised; had Edward
known I should have liv’d to see his Ruin, my
Head had paid my ransom. The impressions of
Fear make his subject less in sence than apparition;
think not of me so poor a Brain, but I
as well know how to work as move it, such Actions
are not to be done, but such a way as may
prevent proof, if not suspicion. But why do
I seek thus to charm your Ears, if you be willing
he shall live, let him, let the inclining People
set him free to call you to an account for his oppression,
let him parallel his Spencer’s death in
your Affliction, perhaps he’l spare you for your “Bro- F5r73
Brother’s sake, who he knows so dearly loves
you, and did so bravely witness it in your Affliction,
perhaps he’l suffer you still to guide the
Crown, and your fair Son to wear it. If you
be pleas’d you may abide the Trial. Mortimer’s
resolved, since you neglect his Judgment, you
will as soon forget his Service, which he will in
time prevent, before it be debarred.”

With this he flings away, as if he meant, to
give his words a real Execution. The amazed
Queen pursues and overtakes him. “Stay, gentle
, (quoth she) “forgive my Error, I am
a Woman fitter to take advice than to give it. Think not
I prize thy Love so little as to lose thee. If Edward
must dye, I will not seek to divert it, only I thus much
beg, I may not be partaker, or privy to the time,
means, or manner.”

“Madam, leave that to me, who will alone
both undertake the Act and Danger; all I require
from you, is but to seal a Warrant to
change his former Keepers.”

Sir Morris Barkley had been tamper’d withall,
and was so far from consent, that he plainly declared
he did abhor the Action. This Answer suddenly
dischargeth him, and commits his Masters
Guard to Sir Thomas Gourney, and his former Partner
Mattrevers. They having received both their
Warrant and Prisoner, convey him to Cork-Castle,
the place in all the World he most hated. Some
say he was foretold by certain Magic Spels, that
this place was to him both fatal and ominous. But
whatsoe’re the cause was, he was at his first arrival
deeply sad and passionate. His Keepers, to repel F5v74
repel this humour, and make him less suspicious,
feed him with pleasant Discourse, and better Entertainment,
while his misgiving Spirit was heavy,
sad, and melancholy.

The Night before his Death he supp’d heartily,
and went to Bed betimes; scarcely were his heavy
Eyes lock’d up in silent slumber, when his forsworn
traiterous Murderers enter his Chamber, and
finding him asleep, inhumanely and barbarously
stifled him, before he could avoid or resist it.
The writers differ mainly in the manner of his
Death, but all conclude him murder’d, yet so,
that the way, on search and view, could not be
known or discover’d. A small passage of time
gave the most part of all these Actors of his Death,
an end fit for their deserts, and this so bloody an
Action. Their several Relations and Confessions
occasion so many various Reports, and different
kinds of Writing; the truth whereof is not much
material, since all agree, he came to an unnatural
and untimely Death.

Thus fell that unhappy King Edward the Second,
who was Son and Father to two of the most glorious
Kings that ever held the Monarchy of the English
Nation. Main Reasons are given probable
enough to instance the necessity of his fall, which
questionless were the secondary means to work
it. But his Doom was registred by that inscrutable
Providence of Heaven, who with the self-same
Sentence punish’d both him, and Richard the Second
his great Grandchild, who were guilty of the
same Offences. The Example of these two so unfortunate
Kings may be justly a leading precedent
to all Posterity.

Cer- F6r 75

Certainly we have had other Kings as faulty and
vicious, that have o’re-liv’d their Errors, and died
not by a violent hand, but by the ordinary and
easie course of Nature. The condition and quality
of these, was not in themselves more perilous
and exorbitant, than hurtful and dangerous to the
Estate, Peace, and Tranquillity of the whole
Kingdom. If by height of Youth, height of Fortune,
or a corrupt natural Inclination, the Royal
Afflictions loosely fly at random; yet if it extend
no farther than the satisfaction of the proper Appetite,
it may obscure the Glory, but not supplant
the strength and welfare of a Monarchy. But
when it is in it self not only vicious and ill affected,
but doth patrocine and maintain it in others, not
blushing in such a justification, it is a forerunning
and presaging evidence, that betokens a fatal and
unpitied Ruin.

It is too much in a King, that hath so great a
Charge delivered to his care and custody, to be
dissolute, or wantonly given, but when it falls
into a second Error, which makes more Kings than
one in the self-same Kingdom, he opens the way
to his own destruction. The Subjects hearts, as
they are obliged, so are they continued by the
Majesty and Goodness of a King; if either of
these prove prostitute, it unties the Links of Duty
and Allegiance, and hunts after Change and Innovation.

It is of so singular and great a consequence, that
Kings ought to be well advised, and sparingly to
accumulate their Honours and Favours, wherein
both the Time, Person, and Occasion, ought to be both F6v76
both worthy and weighty; for the Eye of the
Subject waits curiously on his Actions, which
finding them degenerating from his own Greatness,
and inclinable to their Oppression, vary their Integrity
to a murmuring discontent, which is the
Harbinger to a revolt and mischief. Nor is it proper,
(if the Soveraign’s Affections must dote) that
the Object of their weakness should sway the Government
of the Kingdom. Such an Intermixtion
begets confusion and Error, and is attended by a
perpetual envy and hatred.

Is it possible but there must be perpetual Error
and Injustice, where all things are carried more
by Favour and Affection, than Law and Reason?
Or can the lesser Fountains be clear, when that
main Spring that feeds them is tainted and polluted?
Alas, common and familiar Experience tells,
that the Actions and principal Use of a Favourite,
is to make good by his strength and favour, those
Designs that are in themselves unjust, perverse, and

A good Cause in the Integrity of Time, needs
no protection but its own Innocence; but where
the sacred Rules of Justice are inverted, the sincerity
of the Law abused, the conscience of the
Judge corrupted or enforced, and all things made
Mercenary, or carried by indirect Favour, what
expectation can there be, but that Kingdom, which
is the Theater of so infamous a practice, should
fall speedily into a fearful and desperate Convulsion.
Though the Histories of these times are
plentifully, stor’d, and few Common-wealths are
free from the Examples of this nature, yet I shall not F7r77
not need any other instance than the story of this
unfortunate Prince, whose time presents a perfect
Mirror, wherein ensuing Kings may see how full
of danger and hazard it is, for one Man’s love
to sell the Affections and Peace of the whole Kingdom.

Had Edwardobscuredparticular been far worse
than he was, he might have still subsisted, but
when for his inglorious Minions Gaveston and Spencer,
who successively engross him, he fell to those
injurious and dissolute Actions, that made all Men,
and the Kingdom, pray to their insolent and imperious
Humours, he quickly found both Heaven
and Earth resolved to work his Ruin. Not only
his own, but theirs, and those of their ignoble
Agents, were made his proper Errors, which took
so wholly from him the Love and Hearts of his
Subjects, that he found neither Arms nor Tongue
to defend him. A more remarkable Misery I think
no time of ours produceth, that brings this King
to destruction, without so much as any one Kinsman,
Friend, or Subject, that declared himself
in his Quarrel.

But he found the Climacteric year of his Reign
before he did expect it: And made that unhappy
Castle, which he ever hated, the witness of his
cruel Murder; where I must leave him, ’till he find
a more honourable place of Burial, and my weary
Pen a fortunate Subject, that may invite it to
some other new Relation.



Books sold by John Playford, at his
Shop near the Temple-Church,

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