Book v

. p. 178. _W._

[192] _where_ for _whereas_.

[193] In the old garbled editions the passage stands thus: "But alas! I am a diseased man, having a fluxe (at which time it was apparent that _he had poisoned himself_); it hath made me very weak," p. 108, edit. 1641. This is a most barefaced and unwarranted interpolation. The words do not occur in any of the MSS. Yet the charge of his having poisoned himself was repeated by many writers among the reformers without scruple. See Tindall's _Works_, p. 404. _Supplications to the Queen's Majesty_, fol. 7. A. D. 1555. Fox's _Acts_, p. 959.

[194] "This is an affecting picture," says a late elegant writer. "Shakspeare had undoubtedly seen these words, his portrait of the sick and dying Cardinal so closely resembling this. But in these words is this chronological difficulty. How is it that Hardwick Hall is spoken of as a house of the Earl of Shrewsbury's in the reign of Henry VIII, when it is well known that the house of this name between Sheffield and Nottingham, in which the Countess of Shrewsbury spent her widowhood, a house described in the Anecdotes of Painting, and seen and admired by every curious traveller in Derbyshire, did not accrue to the possessions of any part of the Shrewsbury family till the marriage of an earl, who was grandson to the cardinal's host, with Elizabeth Hardwick, the widow of Sir William Cavendish, in the time of Queen Elizabeth?--The truth however is, that though the story is told to every visitor of Hardwick Hall, that "the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey," slept there a few nights before his death; as is also the story, perhaps equally unfounded, that Mary Queen of Scots was confined there; it was _another_ Hardwick which received the weary traveller for a night in this his last melancholy pilgrimage. This was Hardwick-upon-Line in Nottinghamshire, a place about as far to the south of Mansfield as the Hardwick in Derbyshire, so much better known, is to the north-west. It is now gone to much decay, and is consequently omitted in many maps of the county. It is found in Speed. Here the Earl of Shrewsbury had a house in the time of Wolsey. Leland expressly mentions it. "The Erle [of Shrewsbury] hath a parke and manner place or lodge in it called Hardewike-upon-Line, a four miles from Newstede Abbey." Itin. vol. v. fol. 94, p. 108. Both the Hardwicks became afterwards the property of the Cavendishes. Thoroton tells us that Sir Charles Cavendish, youngest son of Sir William, and father of William Duke of Newcastle, "had begun to build a great house in this lordship, on a hill by the forest side, near Annesly-wood-House, when he was assaulted and wounded by Sir John Stanhope and his men, as he was viewing the work, which was therefore thought fit to be left off, some blood being spilt in the quarrel, then very hot between the two families.--_Thoresby's Edit. of Thoroton_, vol. ii. p. 294."--WHO WROTE CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY? p. 18.

[195] Mr. Douce has pointed out a remarkable passage in Pittscottie's History of Scotland (p. 261, edit. 1788,) in which there is a great resemblance to these pathetic words of the cardinal. James V. imagined that Sir James Hamilton addressed him thus in a dream. "Though I was a sinner against God, I failed not to thee. Had I been as good a servant to the Lord my God as I was to thee, I had not died that death."

[196] In the yeare 1521, the cardinal, by virtue of his legatine authority, issued a mandate to all the bishops in the realme, to take the necessary means for calling in and destroying all books, printed or written, containing any of the errors of Martin Luther: and further directing processes to be instituted against all the possessors and favourers of such books, heresies, &c. The mandate contained also a list of forty-two errors of Luther. See Wilkins's _Concilia_, vol. iii. p. 690-693; and Strype's _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. i. p. 36-40. _W._

[197] To administer the _extreme unction_. "The _fyfth sacrament_ is anoyntynge of seke men, the whiche oyle is halowed of the bysshop, and mynystred by preestes to them that ben of lawfull age, in grete peryll of dethe: in lyghtnes and abatynge of theyr sikenes, yf God wyll that they lyve; and in forgyvynge of theyr venyal synnes, and releasynge of theyr payne, yf they shal deye." _Festival_, fol. 171. _W._

[198] He died Nov. 29, 1530. Le Neve's _Fasti_, p. 310.

According to the superstitious credulity of that age, the death of Wolsey was said to have been preceded by a portentous storm. See LETTERS FROM THE BODLEIAN, Vol. ii. page 17. In a letter from Dr. Tanner to Dr. Charlett, dated Norwich, Aug. 10, 1709, is the following passage:

"On the other side is a coeval note at the end of an old MS. belonging to our cathedral, of the odd exit of the great Cardinal Wolsey, not mentioned, I think, in Cavendish, or any of the ordinary historians,--much like Oliver's wind.

"Anno Xti, 1530, nocte immediate sequente quartum diem Novemb. vehemens ventus quasi per totam Angliam accidebat, et die proximè sequente quinto sc. die ejusdem mensis circa horam primam post meridiem captus erat Dūus Thomas Wulsye Cardinalis in ædibus suis de Cahow [Cawood] infra Diocesam suam Eboracensem; et postea in itinere ejus versus Londoniam vigilia St. Andreæ prox. sequente apud Leycestriam moriebatur, quo die ventus quasi Gehennalis tunc fere per totam Angliam accidebat, cujus vehementia apud Leystoft infra Dioc. Norwicensem et alibi in diversis locis infra Regnum Angliæ multæ naves perierunt."

_Ad finem Annalium Bartholomæi Cotton. MS. in Biblioth. Eccl. Cath. Norwic. habetur hæc notata._

[199] The excellent author of the dissertation on this life doubted whether this passage was not an interpolation, because "Wolsey is spoken of in terms so different from those used in other parts of the book." But it is only a proof of the integrity of the biographer, whose upright heart and devout catholic spirit would not conceal the truth.

[200] This passage follows in the more recent MSS. "riding that same day, being Wednesday, to Northampton; and the next day to Dunstable; and the next day to London; where we tarried untill St. Nicholas Even, and then we rode to Hampton Court."

[201] Here is another addition, in the more recent MSS. to the following effect: "Who hath gotten diverse other rich ornaments into his hands, the which be not rehersed or registered in any of my lords books of inventory, or other writings, whereby any man is able to charge him therewith, but only I."

ADDITIONAL NOTES TO THE LIFE OF WOLSEY.

PAGE 95. The Letter of Anstis, referred to in the note, is addressed to Fiddes, and is printed in his Collections. It relates to a rude representation of the House of Lords in the reign of King Henry VIII. but that learned herald and antiquary has made it the vehicle of some observations, which may not be misplaced here.

"Almost every action of Wolsey hath been interpreted as an instance of pomp, ambition, or insolence; notwithstanding, probably, upon a strict examination, most of them will be found to be strictly precedented. This particular of _two crosses_ gave Polydore Virgil an opportunity of making an uncharitable reflection: "Non contentus unâ cruce, qua utebatur, quod Archiepiscopus esset Eboracensis, alteram præ se ferri voluit, per duos sacerdotes statura elegantes, et equis magnis insidentes, qui aperto capite, quocunque anni tempore incederent. Nunc plane constat Wolsæum suæ sibi conscium esse culpæ, qui propterea binas in pompa habet cruces, quod una non satis foret ad ejus expianda commissa." Anstis then cites the passage from Roy's satire, which he mistakingly attributes to Skelton; and proceeds thus: "Here is a long catalogue, and yet possibly not one particular is singular to the cardinal. For the same honours, according to the known customs of Rome, were to be paid to every Legate _de Latere_ as to the sovereign pontiff himself: Nay, he might of right use all papal ensigns and ornaments, for which Parisius (De Resignat. L. 7. qu. 13. n. 6 et 7) produces the vouchers."

"I know not what was the figure of the _pillars_ here mentioned; but it was not an unusual ensign, because Chaucer, in the Plowman's Tale, v. 2044, setting forth the duty of a clergyman, says thus:

And usin none yerthly honours, Ne croune, ne curious covertours, Ne _pillar_, ne other proud pall, &c.

According to the present customs in this country, no one will charge the cardinal's riding on a mule to be a mark of his insolence or haughtiness, neither was it any testimony of his humility, but a usage of his age, in correspondence to the ancient practice of clergymen, who esteemed it unbecoming them to ride upon a horse, when our Saviour rode on the foal of an ass. Thus St. Basil on Psalm 32, _Exclusus est ab usu sanctorum equus_. And here I cannot forbear from diverting you with the odd simplicity of the style wherein Peraldus (Summæ de Superbia, tom. 2) expresses himself on this occasion: "Christus nunquam equitavit, tantum semel asinavit, atque adeo neque mulavit, neque palafredavit, neque dromedariavit." His sentiment was as of some other rigid disciplinarians at that time, that the clergy should travel on foot. It is well known that our judges, till the first year of Queen Mary, rode always to Westminster on mules, (v. Dugdal. Orig. Juridic. p. 38). Christopher Urswicke, who had been Dean of Windsor, in his will made 10 Oct. 1521, devises to Mr. Cuthbert Tunstall, Maister of the Rolls, "his gowne of blacke furred with martron, his typpet of sarcenet furred with sables, and his little _mule_ with saddle and bridle and all hir harneys." (Lib. Mainwaryng, in Cur. Prærog.) And upon the motive of an affected humility it doubtless was that John de Beverle, in his will dated 1380, "Volo quod corpus meum sit ductum ab hospitio meo per duos asinos, si possint inveniri." (Registr. Beckingham Episcopi Lincoln.) The sumptuary law for apparel, 24 Hen. 8. c. 13, prohibits all persons to wear upon their horse, _mule_, or other beast, any silk of purpure, &c. Of the custom of the clergy, see Bede Eccles. Hist. 1. 3, c. 14, and 1. 4, c. 3: and that they first began to ride on mares, 1. 2, c. 13, unless there be some error in the print. As to Cardinals, David Chambre, in his History of the Popes abridged, acquaints us that Innocent IV. gave them liberty to ride on horseback, and that Pope Clement V. ordained they should ride upon asses, according to the example of our Saviour.

But these rich trappings and housings of the cardinal's mule may give offence; herein he could justify himself by an especial privilege to those of his degree:--_Equitare mulas phaleratas, et clavam argenteam ante se deferre_ (Cohelii Notitia Cardinalatus, p. 28). Here then is a poleaxe or mace also, and the same author, p. 30, acquaints us that in the Roman court the cardinals "dum equitant _mulas_, præmittunt apparitores cum argenteis _clavis_ et _bulgis_ ab acupictoribus gentilitiis insignibus auro et argento redimitis, necnon famulos duos pedissequos (parafrænarios vocant) baculis duobus innixos."

Page 137. The circumstances attending the interception of De Praet's dispatches, mentioned in the note, are thus related in a letter of Wolsey's to Mr. Sampson, printed in the Appendix to Galt's Life of Wolsey, p. clv. No. vi. 4to. 1812.

"It hath bene of a long season, and from sundry parts, reported unto the king's hignes and to me at divers times, that Mon^{sr} de Praet, who resideth here ambassador for the emperor, hath continually bene a man disposed and inclined to make, in his letters and writings, both to the emperor and the Lady Margaret, seditious and sinister reports; saying many times, upon his own fantasie, suspicion, and conjecture, things clearly untrue, and compassing at other times, when things have been done, sayd, or set forth, frendly, kindlie, and lovinglie, soe to cowch his reports, and the circumstances of the doings thereof, as though the gratuities shewed by the king's highnes, have from time to time been conduced by the industrie, pollicy, and labour of the sayd ambassadors; ascribing, therefore, the laude and thank therof unto himself, wherby he might acquire the more grace and favor of the sayd emperor and Lady Margaret. To these things the kings highnes and I were not over hasty to give soone creddence; but supposing the sayd ambassador to be a p^rsonage of more vertue and inclinacion to good then now he proveth to be, I would some times admonish him, in general words of such advertisement; exhorting and advising him to be well ware how he, being a minister betwene two princes so neerly conjoined in intelligence, should attempt or doe any thing to the hinderance thereof; but rather, regarding the office of a good ambassador to doe that in him is for the nourishing and increase of the same. Wherein he alwayes made me such answere that I conceaved noe further suspicion or jealousy towards him in that behalfe; being therefore the more franke and plaine with him in all my conferences, as he, that for the singuler good mind which I have alwayes borne unto the emperors honor, weale, and suretie, would procede with his majestie, sincerelie, plainely, and truelie. And as familiarly, kindly, and lovinglie hath the kings highnes and I admitted, entertayned, and used the sayd de Praet at all times, as the most hearty love betwene the kings highnes and his majestie doth require, making him privie, and having him present, at all such comunicacions and accesses have bene of other princes ambassadors, or of any matter worthy advertisement or knowledge, to the intent that he should make most credible and plaine relacion thereof unto th'emperor and other to whom it appertained."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * He then relates, that upon one occasion he sent for the ambassador "to make him participant of such newes as the kings highnes and I had received, as also to understand whether he had any good newes in confirmation of the same." And after a long communication, he "seeming to be joyous and well contented, giving me thanks on the emperors behalfe, departed."

"Three days before that, as many times is here accustomed, it was appointed that, as that night following, which was the xj^{th} day at night, a privie watch should be made in London, and by a certaine cercoute and space about it: in the which watch was taken, passing between London and Brainford, by certaine of the watch appointed to that quarter, one ryding towards the said Brainford; who, examined by the watch, answered soe closely, that upon suspicion thereof they searched him, and found seacretly hid about him a little pacquet of letters, subscribed in French, which the sayd watch p^rceaving, brought the letters unto a man of lawes clarke, being of the same company; who, supposing the bearer of them to be either a spie or a messenger from some merchant, stranger, or other, intendinge to disclose things unto the emperor, and p^rceaving the sayd pacquet to be in the taking of it, by the unlearned men of the watch, broken and evil handled, looked in the letters. And thinking the same, by reason of the ciphers, more suspect, brought it unto the king's solicitor, being in the same watch; who not acquainted with the name of the sayd de Praet, brought the letters soe opened unto Sir Thomas Moore, being in another watch neere unto the same; and he presented them, in the morning following, unto me, being in the chancery at Westminster; which, when I had read, knowing how farr the effect of them was discrepant from the truth, anon I conceived the former adv^rtisements made unto me touching the said ambassadors accustomed usage in making sinister reports, to be true. And p^rceyving by the sayd letters, that albeit the usage is not here that strangers should passe through the realme without a passport, yet one of the foulkes was depeched by the sayd ambassador the day before with letters towards Spaine,--wherin it was like there might be as evill or worse report then in these, I with all diligence sent to countermande the sayd former letters, or any other depeched at that time by the sayd ambassador. And soe was taken also a pacquet of his letters directed to my Lady Margaret, which original letters directed unto th'emperor, with copies of those addressed unto my Lady Margaret, viewed and overlooked, and the untruth mencioned in them deprehended, I send unto your hands herewith, as well because th'emperor may know such things as his folkes on this side doe advertise his majestie of, which may conferr to the furtherance of his affaires; as also, because the same may hereby the more assuredlie and p^rfectlie understand and p^rceave that the sayd de Praet hath of lykelyhood contrived noe few matters untrue and fayned in his letters sent of a long season, as well into Spayne as into Flanders. Wherof there is much apparance, by reason of such proceeding, strange demeanour, and suspicion, as hath seemed to have bene had towards the kings grace, both on that side and in Flanders of a good season, soe that it is evident to be conjectured that the sayd de Praet hath done more hurt, detriment, and damage, by his evil reports in the comon affaires, then ever he can be able to reduble or amend; and surely has by the same deserved much more blame than I will reherse." He then enters into detail of the misrepresentations of De Praet, who, he says, would have long since been denounced to the emperor as "a man of insufficient qualities, inexpert and far unmeet to be ambassador from so great a prince," had it not been out of courtesy to that potentate and his council. And further, that "De Praet being not a little abashed, ne without cause, made first exception at the intercepting of his letters, as he would not give credence to the manner of their interception, and the opening of them by a fortunate error, as is aforesayd, saying that ambassadors doe write unto their princes that which in their conceipt is thought good, referring the judgment unto others. He affirmed also, that till this time it could not ne should be ever found in any of his letters, that he hath made evill report either of the king's highnes or of me, as by his original letters, which he sayd he desired and would be gladd should and might be showed, he would be judged, and that the cause and occasion moving him thus to write at this time, was only the being here of John Joachym by viij moneths, the difficulty made to condescend unto the truce proposed at Rome, the not advancing of an army on this side, as was spoken of, and the refusal of the kings highnes to contribute any thing to the defence of Italy."

To this Wolsey states the long and circumstantial answer he gave, in which he asserts that he was not privy to Joachinos coming, and that it was some time after his arrival that he disclosed to him what he was, and that as soon as he discovered himself to be sent from the Lady Regent, he made de Praet privy thereto, praying him to advertise the Lady Margaret and the emperor, as he also would do and did.

To this he states 'that De Praet could make no other answer than that he wrote his fantasy, and remitted the judgment to wiser men.' The whole letter is well worth attention as an example of Wolsey's talent in diplomacy; and though his apology is not very convincing, it must be confessed to be very skilful and ingenious.

FINIS.

APPENDIX.

EXTRACTS FROM THE LIFE OF THE VIRTUOUS CHRISTIAN AND RENOWNED QUEEN ANNE BOLEIGNE.

BY GEORGE WYATT, ESQ.

WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

FROM THE MANUSCRIPT COLLECTIONS OF THE REV. JOHN LEWIS.

Great princes favourites their fair leaves spread, But as the marigold at the sun's eye; And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die.

SHAKSPEARE.

_Among the other calumnies with which the memory of the unfortunate Queen Anne Boleyn has been aspersed by the enemies of the Reformation, it has been said--"that she had long carried on a criminal intercourse with Sir Thomas Wyatt the poet; who, we are told, had gone so far as to confess to the king that he had debauched her; and had urged this, in the first instance, as an argument to dissuade the king from marrying her." The story requires no refutation; but Wyatt's name having been called in question when Anne Boleyn's conduct was scrutinized, gave the forgers of fabulous history an opportunity of engrafting their libellous inventions on slight circumstances, in order to give them something of the colour of probability. How far there was any foundation for these calumnies will now appear. The following interesting pages were written, it is presumed, by the grandson of the poet, George Wyatt, Esquire, sixth son and heir of Sir Thomas Wyatt the younger, who was beheaded for rebellion in the first year of the reign of Queen Mary. The writer died at the advanced age of eighty, at Boxley in Kent, in the year 1624, and seems to have meditated a complete exposure of such parts of Saunders' Book on the Reformation as came within his own immediate knowledge. He was maternal uncle to Sir Roger Twysden, and in 1623 communicated to him part of his collections. A fragment of the Life of Cardinal Wolsey, by George Cavendish, was in the late Mr. Bindley's library, to which we have already referred, at p. 120 of the present edition; prefixed to which was the following note by Sir Roger Twysden.-- "I receaved this from my uncle Wyatt, Anno 1623, who beeing yonge had gathered many notes towching this lady, not without an intent to have opposed Saunders." It is remarkable that this fragment from Wolsey's Life has been twice printed as a piece of original and authentic cotemporary history, without suspicion of its being an extract from Cavendish;--the first time for private distribution, in 1808, and secondly by Dr. Nott, in his appendix to Wyatt's Poems, in 1816._

_The manuscript from which the present very interesting memoir is printed was purchased at the late Sir Peter Thompson's sale. It is in the hand writing of the Rev. John Lewis, of the Isle of Thanet, the celebrated antiquary. It was printed in 1817 for a few noblemen and gentlemen, but twenty-seven copies only having been taken off, may be considered still to have almost the rarity of a manuscript._

SOME PARTICULARS OF THE LIFE OF QUEEN ANNE BOLEIGNE.

The peculiar means that I have had, more than others, to come to some more particular knowledge of such things as I intend to handle, ought to draw thus much from me; yet much more the request of him that hath been by authority set on work in this important business, both for the singular gifts of God in him, of wisdom, learning, integrity, and virtue; and also the encouragement I have had of late from the right reverend my Lord of Canterbury's grace, to set down what understanding I have had of this matter, is both my warrant, and a bond the more upon my conscience, to hold me urged and constrained not to neglect such an opportunity of my service to the church, my prince, and country. Principally his desire was, and my purpose in satisfying it, to deliver what I knew, touching certain things that happened to the excellent lady, the LADY ANNE BOLEIGNE, about the time of her first coming to the court. Yet, considering I had some other knowledge of things that might be found serviceable no less than that, and also might give light and life to the faithful narration of this whole matter, I have supposed it would fall best, to deliver the same, as it were, under the description of her whole life; and this the more particularly and frankly, that, all things known, those that I understood were to visit it again might take what they should think most material for their use. And would to God I could give that grace and felicity of style unto it that the worthiness of the subject doth require, notwithstanding that in this regard I am the less carefull, for that it is to pass through their hands that can give it better vesture; and I shall the more turn my care to intend the sincere and faithful delivery of that which I have received from those that both were most likely to come to the most perfect knowledge hereof, and had least cause or, otherwise for themselves, could least give just reason of suspicion to any, either of mind, or partiality, or wit, to fayne or misreport any whit hereof. And, indeed, chiefly the relation of those things that I shall set down is come from two. One a lady[202], that first attended on her both before and after she was queen, with whose house and mine there was then kindred and strict alliance. The other also a lady of noble birth, living in those times, and well acquainted with the persons that most this concerneth, from whom I am myself descended. A little, therefore, repeating the matter more high, I will derive the discourse hereof from the very spring and fountains, whence may appear most clearly by what occasion and degrees the stream of this whole cause hath grown to such an ocean as it were of memorable effects through all our parts of Christendom, not by chance or wits of men so much as even by the apparent work of God, as I hope presently to make plain to all men.

The see of _Rome_ having risen, in this our age, unto a full tide of all wickedness, had overflowed all these parts of the world with the floods of her evils, whereby was occasioned and had beginning the ebb of all her pomp, power, and glory, every particular devising, as if it had been by one consent and accord (so showing it the more apparently to come of God), to provide for the time to come against her so great inundation of mischiefs. Hereof, in _England_, _Germany_, _Italy_, and in many other places, sundry persons of singular learning and piety, one succeeding another, at divers times, opened their mouths as trumpets to call men to this work upon several occasions, all rising from the outrageous corruptions and foaming filth of that see. But chiefly and most notoriously, in the time of Henry the Eighth, of famous memory, this came to pass by the just judgment of God upon her, and his mercy upon us, where the same polity by which she had in custom, and then made herself most assured, to strengthen herself in giving to princes licence to unlawful contracts (esteeming thereby to tie them and their issue the more strongly to her); the bond of so evil counsel breaking suddenly, set at liberty the certain means of this great opposition against her after almost through all Europe. So little assurance especially have evil foundations of usurped authorities against the provoked judgments of God by sin, and general displeasure of man upon just conceived indignities.

There was, at this present, presented to the eye of the court the rare and admirable beauty of the fresh and young Lady Anne Boleigne, to be attending upon the queen. In this noble imp, the graces of nature graced by gracious education, seemed even at the first to have promised bliss unto her aftertimes. She was taken at that time to have a beauty not so whitely as clear and fresh above all we may esteem, which appeared much more excellent by her favour passing sweet and cheerful; and these, both also increased by her noble presence of shape and fashion, representing both mildness and majesty more than can be expressed. There was found, indeed, upon the side of her nail upon one of her fingers, some little show of a nail, which yet was so small, by the report of those that have seen her, as the workmaster seemed to leave it an occasion of greater grace to her hand, which, with the tip of one of her other fingers, might be and was usually by her hidden without any least blemish to it. Likewise there were said to be upon some parts of her body certain small moles incident to the clearest complexions. And certainly both these were none other than might more stain their writings with note of malice that have caught at such light motes in so bright beams of beauty, than in any part shadow it, as may right well appear by many arguments, but chiefly by the choice and exquisite judgments of many brave spirits that were esteemed to honour the honourable parts in her, even honoured of envy itself.

Amongst these, two were observed to be of principal mark. The one was _Sir Thomas Wiat_, the elder[203], the other was the king himself. The knight, in the beginning, coming to behold the sudden appearance of this new beauty, came to be holden and surprised somewhat with the sight thereof; after much more with her witty and graceful speech, his ear also had him chained unto her, so as finally his heart seemed to say, _I could gladly yield to be tied for ever with the knot of her love_, as somewhere in his verses hath been thought his meaning was to express[204]. She, on the other part, finding him to be then married, and in the knot to have been tied then ten years, rejected all his speech of love; but yet in such sort as whatsoever tended to regard of her honour, she showed not to scorn, for the general favour and good will she perceived all men to bare him, which might the rather occasion others to turn their looks to that which a man of his worth was brought to gaze at in her, as, indeed, after it happened. The king is held to have taken his first apprehension of this love after such time as upon the doubt in those treaties of marriage with his daughter Mary, first with the Spaniard, then with the French: by some of the learned of his own land he had vehemently in their public sermons, and in his confessions to his ghostly fathers, been prayed to forsake that his incestuous life by accompanying with his brother's wife; and especially after he was moved by the cardinal, then in his greatest trust with the king, both for the better quietness of his conscience, and for more sure settling of the succession to more prosperous issue.

[Illustration: SIR THOMAS WYATT K^T.]

About this time, it is said that the knight, entertaining talk with her as she was earnest at work, in sporting wise caught from her a certain small jewel hanging by a lace out of her pocket, or otherwise loose, which he thrust into his bosom, neither with any earnest request could she obtain it of him again. He kept it, therefore, and wore it after about his neck, under his cassock, promising to himself either to have it with her favour or as an occasion to have talk with her, wherein he had singular delight, and she after seemed not to make much reckoning of it, either the thing not being much worth, or not worth much striving for. The noble prince having a watchful eye upon the knight, noted him more to hover about the lady, and she the more to keep aloof of him; was whetted the more to discover to her his affection, so as rather he liked first to try of what temper the regard of her honour was, which he finding not any way to be tainted with those things his kingly majesty and means could bring to the battery, he in the end fell to win her by treaty of marriage, and in this talk took from her a ring, and that wore upon his little finger; and yet all this with such secrecy was carried, and on her part so wisely, as none or very few esteemed this other than an ordinary course of dalliance. Within few days after, it happened that the king, sporting himself at bowls, had in his company (as it falls out) divers noblemen and other courtiers of account, amongst whom might be the Duke of Suffolk, Sir F. Brian, and Sir T. Wiat, himself being more than ordinarily pleasantly disposed, and in his game taking an occasion to affirm a cast to be his that plainly appeared to be otherwise; those on the other side said, with his grace's leave, they thought not, and yet, still he pointing with his finger whereon he wore her ring, replied often it was his, and specially to the knight he said, Wiat, I tell thee it is mine, smiling upon him withal. Sir Thomas, at the length, casting his eye upon the king's finger, perceived that the king meant the lady whose ring that was, which he well knew, and pausing a little, and finding the king bent to pleasure, after the words repeated again by the king, the knight replied, And if it may like your majesty to give me leave to measure it, I hope it will be mine; and withal took from his neck the lace whereat hung the tablet, and therewith stooped to measure the cast, which the king espying, knew, and had seen her wear, and therewithal spurned away the bowl, and said, It may be so, but then am I deceived; and so broke up the game. This thing thus carried was not perceived for all this of many, but of some few it was. Now the king, resorting to his chamber, showing some discontentment in his countenance, found means to break this matter to the lady, who, with good and evident proof how the knight came by the jewel, satisfied the king so effectually that this more confirmed the king's opinion of her truth than himself at the first could have expected. Shortly, upon the return of the cardinal, the matter of the dutchess[205] cooling every day more and more, his credit also waned till it was utterly eclipsed; and that so busied the great personages that they marked the less the king's bent, the rather for that some way it seemed helpful to their working against the cardinal. The king also took here opportunity to proceed to discover his full and whole meaning unto the lady's father, to whom we may be sure the news was not a little joyful.

All this notwithstanding, her virtue was not so dased with the glory of so forcible attractives, but that she stood still upon her guard, and was not, as we would suppose, so easily taken with all these appearances of happiness; whereof two things appeared to be the causes. One the love she bare ever to the queen whom she served, that was also a personage of great virtue: the other her conceit that there was not that freedom of conjunction with one that was her lord and king as with one more agreeable to her estate. These things being well perceived of, the queen shew she knew well to frame and work her advantage of, and therefore the oftener had her at cards with her, the rather also that the king might have the less her company, and the lady the more excuse to be from him; also she esteem herself the kindlier used, and yet withal the more to give the king occasion to see the nail upon her finger. And in this entertainment of time they had a certain game that I cannot name then frequented, wherein dealing, the king and queen meeting they stopped, and the young lady's hap was much to stop at a king; which the queen noting, said to her playfellow, My Lady Anne, you have good hap to stop at a king, but you are not like others, you will have all or none. So often earnest matters are delivered under game. Yet had the king his times, and she in the end yielded to give her consent of marriage to him, whom hardly ever any before was found able to keep their hold against. This was now so far to the pleasure of the king, that forthwith he with her and her father concluded to open the matter to the council, all other things being ripe thereunto, and specially for that it was not possible to keep it any longer from the talk of men near his person, and the more, the queen being found to take such knowledge thereof. It is thought then the table was diversely carried to give opinion upon this matter; some of the nobility wishing rather to have had so good hap lighted to some of their own houses; others that it had not been at all; some inclining to either of these as depending on them; but most liked better the king's own choice, both for the hope of issue, and that the greatness of great men should not grow too great to sway with in managing of matters of state. But howsoever, it appeared manifestly that presently there were practices discovered on all sides under sundry arts, on the parts of Spain, from Rome and that faction, and from the queen herself, and specially some with the king, some with the lady herself, plotted to break or stay at the least till something might fall between the cup and the lip, that might break all this purpose with one of them, if it might have been. And verily one of these may seem for this present occasion not unmeet to be recounted; which was this: There was conveyed to her a book pretending old prophecies, wherein was represented the figure of some personages, with the letter H upon one, A upon another, and K upon the third, which an expounder thereupon took upon him to interpret by the king and his wives, and to her pronouncing certain destruction if she married the king. This book coming into her chamber, she opened, and finding the contents, called to her maid of whom we have spoken before, who also bore her name: "Come hither, Nan," said she, "see here a book of prophecy; this he saith is the king, this the queen, mourning, weeping and wringing her hands, and this is myself with my head off." The maid answered, "If I thought it true, though he were an emperor, I would not myself marry him with that condition." "Yes, Nan," replied the lady, "I think the book a bauble; yet for the hope I have that the realm may be happy by my issue, I am resolved to have him whatsoever might become of me."

The Romish fable-framer[206], if he may be believed, affirmeth another practice after this sort: "That Sir Thomas Wiat coming to the council, for his better security, confessed to have had dealings with that lady, before he had any perceiving of the king's purpose of marriage; but not being credited by the king, that Wiat, as not finding it well he was not believed, affirmed he would bring the king where he might see him enjoy her. And that again being delivered by the Duke of Suffolk to the king, he yet believed it not." But it is certain that the whole or greatest part of this is fiction; for the persons, manner, and event of these things have been utterly mistaken and misshapen. For I have heard by the report of one of right good and honourable account, and of much understanding in such things, who also hath the truth of his word in high respect, that it was Sir Francis Brian that confessed such a like thing to the king by another lady, with other success more likely, which was that the king thereupon pardoned _him_ indeed, but rejected and gave over the lady ever after to him. Whether the duke might, upon the sight of that which happened at bowls, take any occasion with the king to dissuade the marriage, supposing the knight could not or would not otherwise have cleared himself and the lady, but by confessing and craving pardon for it as done before he had knowledge of the king's intention, I cannot say; and by guess I will not affirm it in any case of any, much less of so worthy and noble a personage. Only this I say, that if he did so, I believe verily that he was greatly deceived therein of his expectation; as finding that by good proof the knight could clear himself and her of that matter, even to the full assuring and ascertaining of the king of the manner of his coming by the jewel without her dishonour, and that so the duke, if he did so, might come to find himself had gone too far, as to have purchased to himself thereby mislike both of the king and queen, whereupon he might turn his heavy displeasure to the knight ever after. I know of a certainty, that the knight had a most high opinion of that princely lady's noble virtues as by trial, and chiefly in the matter of the bowls; in that she took not or interpreted ill of his deed (as herself, being in her own conscience clear), but as he meant it to the king's disport before knowledge of the marriage. This is true also, that Sir Thomas Wiat was twice sifted and lifted at, and that nobleman both times his most heavy adversary, as I have to show under the knight's own hand in his answer to his last indictment. Neither could I ever learn what might be the cause of his so perpetual grudge, save only that it appeareth to be as old as this. Some man might perhaps be led to think that the duke might have a special end to draw him to enter and venture so far to the breaking off the match. And it is true that he was then married with the king's second sister, when the king had then remaining but one only daughter, and then she also questioned whether legitimate: That then also was procured a statute to cut off foreign titles; and it is true also, that after the ambition of some to occasion hereby to thrust the duke's issue, even before the proper and lawful issue of the king, into the regal seat. All this notwithstanding, I will never be induced to give that opinion of that nobleman, but rather I would think, if he did any such thing, in any sort giving colour to this fancy of the Roman legender, he did it upon zeal that in his conceit it was true, and that he thought the knight would so far confess it as done before talk of the king's marriage, when he saw he had passed so far in the measuring of the cast. And though the whole fiction have scarcely so much as shadow of colour of any appearance, yet for that part where he deviseth that Sir Thomas should before the council apeach himself and that lady, or after not being credited, offer to make the king see him to have to do with her, this showing itself sufficiently falsified to any wise and understanding reader, especially considering it

## particularly with the circumstances, it is so far from all likelihood,

as all presumptions are flat against it, as in a word or two shall now be showed.

For that princely lady, she living in court where were so many brave gallants at that time unmarried, she was not like to cast her eye upon one that had been then married ten years. And her parents, then in good and honourable place, resident in court, and themselves of no mean condition, they would keep, no doubt, a watchful eye over her to see she should not roam to the hinderance of her own preferment, a course so foul with one where was no colour of marriage. The King's eye also was a guard upon her, as also those that pleased the king in recounting the adventures of love happening in court made it hard, specially for the shortness of time after her placing there, and the king's own love. Also she that held out against such a king where was hope of marriage, what was like she should do to the knight, where his own lady and her friends were still to attend upon their doings, whose testimonies of the honourable carriage of that lady are therefore here most strong for her? And for the knight, if he had enjoyed her, was he so far desperately wicked and a monster in love, that he would openly, purposely, and to his own disgrace, vaunt the spoil of a maid of so good friends and likelihoods of advancements, without all regard of God or man? especially when she had stood so well upon the assurance of her own innocence for the matter of the jewel without turning him to any displeasure thereby. Those that knew him best, knew him far from that dishonest disposition chiefly in this kind, and for so gross a villany. And if he had been of that mind, yet was he known not of so little wit or understanding, upon a point that was not very likely to be known, to discover his own and her evil; where was a great deal more likelihood that, the king believing her rather than him, he was to incur a more certain and greater mischief, that might in all presumption, fall by the heavy displeasure of them both upon himself ever after. And if we could imagine him both so wretchedly dishonest, and so very a sot (neither of which could be found of him), his father then counsellor to the king, for his wisdom, years, and experience, more grave, would not have suffered him yet to quit himself so fondly and to be so mad; especially as when the king had showed not to believe it, then to run more obstinately to offer when the king had made her privy hereunto, to bring her that the king should see her also so mad as to yield to him after she had given consent of marriage to the king. Who would not believe them also mad, that would believe so mad a carriage of such a business amongst grave and wise men, howsoever the railing Romanist be so mad to write it so as he would seem mad with reason? For the king also, besides that he had more occasion and means than any other to note and observe her doings, yet much more (as the nature of generous spirits carries them) he was watchful upon the knight, as in other things so chiefly in this, not to be outrun at this garland of love; so as by himself and by the eyes of others, there was not any trip but would have been spied, no likelihood but would have carried suspicion with it; how much more would the knight's confession have sunk into his head? Would he, being so wise a prince, have forgotten that the soberness of his choice would serve much for satisfying the world, touching his divorce? Had he not time, had he not leisure to learn, to inquire and sift out all things? His care used in gathering opinions of universities, and in informing princes of the whole matter, with all circumstances in the managing this cause, by the space of some years, show he was not so passionate a lover, but also withal a wise and considerate prince. But it is said the king believed it not! Yet what? when the knight (as this tale saith) offered to make the king see it, and that avowed to the council! Could such a prince as he swallow this? Doubtless none that hath his wits will think so, none that knew the complexion of the king could induce himself to suppose a thing so incredible. The case of Sir Francis Brian's[207] opening of his love had another effect, and shows plainly that the king was of another metal, since he cast off that Lady loved right dearly (as hath been said) without farther matter. And doubtless in this case, he believing the matter would have thrown off this lady also, the marriage not yet consummate, and he having in his own realm and abroad beauties enough to content him, and means enough also to push on some other. But it is devised the king believed it not. Not believing it, think we the knight could have escaped punishment of a slanderer, though he might by confessing, avoid the punishment of a malefactor (as they say) after? This no outrageous madman would believe. If the king would or could have passed it over, the lady in honour could not, nor might. But suppose also that supposal beyond all suppose. Though they punished it not, would they, think ye, have put him in credit and advancement after? Would they have had him chief ewerer even the very day of her coronation? Would they have employed him ambassador in that matter of the marriage? Yea, I say more! would the king also have rewarded him with a good portion of lands soon upon this? But all these were so as we have alleged them. The Chronicles have his service on that day of coronation. His embassages were twice about this matter known right well: I have seen the patents of the grant myself[208]. And these things, the last especially, I the rather allege, for that the knight useth them himself as testimonies of the king's good opinion of him, in his defence before mentioned, which also by the king and his council in those times was liked and allowed of as his just purgation, by which they acquitted him. Finally, that his defence then may and is to be esteemed his defence now also in this case not to be contemned, and may thus be considered. This reporteth that he was twice winnowed. The matters were the same both times, the accusations so frivolous, the inducements and proofs so idle, that they prove nothing more than that there lacked no wills in his adversary to do him hurt, than that they had any least colour of matter to work it. Nothing so impertinent, nothing so unlikely that they allege not. Yea and his most trusty and best services they had the chief matters of their accusation, nothing was so fond that they ripped not up to his discredit, at the least if it might have been. Yet in all this was no word or signification of any such matter. Though it had not been brought as the ground of his accusation, would it not have been drawn forth to aggravate or induce the matter? Undoubtedly it would, either in the queen's life in his first trouble, and it would have done well to revenge if he had done her this wrong, or after to her overthrow, or else in his second trouble against him. But no one word is or was in it touching any such matters.

After so many cross billets of cunning polities, surmounted by the guiding providence of God, after so many trials of her truth, passed through by her wise and virtuous governance, the king having every way made so thorough proof how deep root honour had taken in her bosom, and having found it not to be shaken even by him, this royal and famous prince Henry the Eighth, resolving her matchless perfections meet alone to be joined with his, now at the length concluded forthwith to knit up this marriage, although for certain causes the same was thought more convenient to be performed somewhat privately and secretly. On the twenty-fifth of January[209], therefore, the ceremony was consummate. The king also, shortly after having himself more ascertained, and by more inward trial more assured of her spousal truth, would yet farther testify that his opinion of her, by giving her that highest honour he could give her virtues, in having her solemnly and royally crowned. And thus we see they lived and loved, tokens of increasing love perpetually increasing between them. Her mind brought him forth the rich treasures of love of piety, love of truth, love of learning. Her body yielded him the fruits of marriage, inestimable pledges of her faith and loyal love. And touching the former of these, it is here first not to be forgotten, that of her time (that is during the three years that she was queen) it is found by good observation, that no one suffered for religion, which is the more worthy to be noted for that it could not so be said of any time of the queens after married to the king. And amongst other proofs of her love to religion to be found in others, this here of me is to be added. That shortly after her marriage, divers learned and christianly disposed persons resorting to her, presented her with sundry books of those controversies that then began to be questioned touching religion, and specially of the authority of the pope and his clergy, and of their doings against kings and states. And amongst other, there happened[210] one of these, which, as her manner was, she having read, she had also noted with her nail as of matter worthy the king's knowledge[211]. The book lying in her window, her maid (of whom hath been spoken) took it up, and as she was reading it, came to speak with her one[212] then suitor to her, that after married her; and as they talked he took the book of her, and she withal, called to attend on the queen, forgot it in his hands, and she not returning in some long space, he walked forth with it in his hand, thinking it had been hers. There encountered him soon after a gentleman of the cardinal's of his acquaintance, and after salutations, perceiving the book, requested to see it, and finding what it was, partly by the title, partly by some what he read in it, he borrowed it and showed it to the cardinal. Hereupon the suitor was sent for to the cardinal and examined of the book, and how he came by it, and had like to have come in trouble about it, but that it being found to have pertained to one of the queen's chamber, the cardinal thought better to defer the matter till he had broken it to the king first, in which meantime the suitor delivered the lady what had fallen out, and she also to the queen, who, for her wisdom knowing more what might grow thereupon, without delay went and imparted the matter to the king, and showed him of the points that she had noted with her finger. And she was but newly come from the king, but the cardinal came in with the book in his hands to make complaint of certain points in it that he knew the king would not like of, and withal to take occasion with him against those that countenanced such books in general, and specially women, and as might be thought with mind to go farther against the queen more directly if he had perceived the king agreeable to his meaning. But the king that somewhat afore distasted the cardinal, as we have showed, finding the notes the queen had made, all turned the more to hasten his ruin, which was also furthered on all sides.

On the other part, of her body she bare him a daughter on the seventh[213] of September, to the great joy then of all his people, both for that the king had now issue legitimate of his own body, and for the hope of more after. The king also he expressed his joy for that fruit sprung of himself, and his yet more confirmed love towards her, caused her child openly and publickly to be proclaimed PRINCESS ELIZABETH at the solemnity of her baptising, preferring his younger daughter legitimate before the elder in unlawful wedlock. And after this again, at the prorogation of the parliament, the thirtieth of March[214], he had every lord, knight, and burgess sworn to an act of succession, and their names subscribed to a schedule fixed to the same statute, where it was enacted, that his daughter princess Elizabeth, he having none other heir male, should succeed him to the crown.

And after were commissioners sent to all parts of the realm to take the like oath of all men and women in the land. Neither also were her virtues only enclosed in her own breast or shut up in her own person. She had procured to her chaplains[215], men of great learning and of no less honest conversing, whom she with hers heard much, and privately she heard them willingly and gladly to admonish her, and them herself exhorted and encouraged so to do. Also at the first, she had in court drawn about her, to be attending on her, ladies[216] of great honour, and yet of greater choice for reputation of virtue, undoubted witnesses of her spousal integrity, whom she trained upon with all commendations of well ordered government, though yet above all by her own example she shined above them all, as a torch that all might take light of, being itself still more bright. Those that have seen at _Hampton Court_ the rich and exquisite works by herself, for the greater part wrought by her own hand and needle, and also of her ladies, esteem them the most precious furniture that are to be accounted amongst the most sumptuous that any prince may be possessed of. And yet far more rich and precious were those works in the sight of God which she caused her maids and those about her daily to work in shirts and smocks for the poor. But not staying here her eye of charity, her hand of bounty passed through the whole land; each place felt that heavenly flame burning in her; all times will remember it, no place leaving for vain flames, no times for idle thoughts. Her ordinary amounted to fifteen hundred pounds at the least, yearly, to be bestowed on the poor. Her provisions of stock for the poor in sundry needy parishes were very great. Out of her privy purse went not a little to like purposes. To Scholars in exhibition very much: so as in three quarters of a year her alms was summed to fourteen or fifteen thousand pounds.

She waxing great again and not so fit for dalliance, the time was taken to steal the king's affection from her, when most of all she was to have been cherished. And he once showing to bend from her, many that least ought shrank from her also, and some lent on the other side; such are the flexible natures of those in courts of princes for the most part. Unkindness grew, and she was brought abed before her time with much peril of her life, and of a male child dead born, to her greater and most extreme grief. Being thus a woman full of sorrow, it was reported that the king came to her, and bewailing and complaining unto her the loss of his boy, some words were heard break out of the inward feeling of her heart's dolours, laying the fault upon unkindness, which the king more than was cause (her case at this time considered) took more hardly than otherwise he would if he had not been somewhat too much overcome with grief, or not so much alienate. Wise men in those days judged that her virtues was here her default, and that if her too much love could, as well as the other queen, have borne with his defect of love, she might have fallen into less danger, and in the end have tied him the more ever after to her when he had seen his error, and _that_ she might the rather have done respecting the general liberty and custom of falling then that way. Certainly, from henceforth the harm still more increased, and he was then heard to say to her: he would have no more boys by _her_. Having thus so many, so great factions at home and abroad set loose by the distorned favour of the king, and so few to show themselves for her, what could be? what was otherlike but that all these guests lighting on her at once should prevail to overthrow her, and with her those that stood under her fall? She and her friends therefore were suddenly sent to the Tower: and this gracious queen coming unto the entry of the gate, she falling down upon her knees made that place a reverend temple to offer up her devout prayers, and as a bale there her soul beaten down with afflictions to the earth, with her faithful prayers bounded up to heaven. "O Lord," said she, "help me, as I am guiltless of this whereof I am accused." The time approached for the hearing of her cause. The place of her trial in the Tower may somewhat discover how the matter was liked to be handled. Nor there was it appointed the better to conceal the heinousness of the accusation, though that might be the pretence. For that was published in parliament that it might from thence spread abroad over all. Her very accusations speak and even plead for her; all of them, so far as I can find, carrying in themselves open proof to all men's consciences of mere matter of quarrel, and indeed of a very preparation to some hoped alteration. The most and chief of them showing to have come from _Rome_, that popish forge of cunning and treachery, as _Petrarch_ long since termed it.

_Nido di tradimenti in cui si cuova Quanto mal per lo mondo hoggi si spandi._

Nest of treasons in which is hatch'd and bred What ill this day the world doth overspread.

For that most odious of them, something is to be esteemed by the apparent wrongs of the other evil handling of matters. But for this thing itself, partly it is incredible, partly by the circumstances impossible. Incredible, that she that had it her word as it were, the spirit of her mind, as hath been said, that she was _Cæsar's_ all, not to be touched of others, should be held with the foul desire of her brother. Again, she having so goodly a prince to please her, who also had showed himself able to content more than one, that she should yet be carried to a thing so much abhorring even womanly years and to nature itself, much more to so christian a queen. Impossible, for the necessary and no small attendance of ladies ever about her, whereof some, as after appeared, even aspired unto her place and right in the king's love; yea, by manifest prevention before their time. And indeed, hereof, it was her very accusers found it impossible to have colour to charge her with any other than her brother, which also made it no less impossible even for him alike as other. Impossible, I say, because neither she could remove so great ladies, by office appointed to attend upon her continually, from being witnesses to her doings; neither for the danger she saw she stood in, and the occasion daily sought, would she for her own wisdom, and also by the advertisements of her kindred and followers, whereof she had many of most great understanding, experience, and faith, about her. Besides, she could not but be made more wary and wakeful, if for none other cause, yet even to take away all colour from her enemies, whose eyes were everywhere upon her to pick matter, and their malicious hearts bent to make some where they found none; as plainly enough was to be seen when they were driven to those straits to take occasion at her brother's more private being with her; the more grudged at perhaps, for that it might be supposed his conference with her might be for the breaking off the king's new love. For the evidence, as I never could hear of any, so small I believe it was. But this I say, well was it said of a noble judge of late, that "half a proof where nature leadeth was to be esteemed a whole proof." On the contrary, in this case he would have said, whole and very absolute proofs to have been needful in such a case against nature. And I may say, by their leaves, it seems themselves they doubted their proofs would prove their reproofs, when they durst not bring them to the proof of the light in open place. For this principal matter between the queen and her brother, there was brought forth, indeed, witness, his wicked wife accuser of her own husband, even to the seeking of his blood, which I believe is hardly to be showed of any honest woman ever done. But of her, the judgment that fell out upon her, and the just punishment by law after of her naughtiness, show that what she did was more to be rid of him than of true ground against him. And that it seemeth those noblemen that went upon the queen's life found in her trial, when it may appear plainly by that defence of the knight that oft hath been here mentioned, that the young nobleman the Lord Rochford, by the common opinion of men of best understanding in those days, was counted and then openly spoken, condemned only upon some point of a statute of words then in force. And this and sundry other reasons have made me think often that upon some clause of the same law they grounded their colour also against her, and that for other matters she had cleared herself well enough. It seemeth some great ones then had their hands in drawing in that law to entangle or bridle one another, and that some of them were taken in the same net, as good men then thought worthily. Surely my Lord Cromwell and this young lord were taken in those entanglements, and the knight himself, of whom is spoken, had hardly scaped it, as may appear by his defence, if he had not by the well delivering of the goodness of his cause broken through it. And this may well serve to admonish men to be well aware how far they admit of laws that shall touch life upon construction of words; or, at the least, admitting them, how far they leave to lawyers to interpret of them, and especially that thereby they give not excuse to juries to condemn the innocent when sway of time should thrust matters upon them. Thus was she put upon her trial by men of great honour; it had been good also if some of them had not been to be suspected of too much power and no less malice. The evidence were heard indeed, but close enough, as enclosed in strong walls. Yet, to show the truth cannot by any force be altogether kept in hold, some belike of those honourable personages there, more perhaps for countenance of others' evil than for means by their own authority to do good (which also peradventure would not have been without their own certain perils), did not yet forbear to deliver out voices that caused every where to be muttered abroad, that that spotless queen in her defence had cleared herself with a most wise and noble speech. Notwithstanding such a trial, such a judgment found her guilty, and gave sentence of death upon her at home, whom others abroad, living to feel her loss, found guiltless.

The woful sentence was given; burning or heading at the king's pleasure, leaving open some small place to pity for the kind of death, which the king's conscience (no doubt) moved him to take in appointing the more honourable death. Within those walls this execution was to be done. What needed that? The love known indeed to her by the people was not to be feared of the king, her love being such to him as to her last breath she stood to acquit and defend him by her words at her death, carrying a very true image of her former love and life. "Christian people!" said she, "I am come to die, and according to law, and by law I am judged to death, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak any thing of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die. But I pray God save the king, and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler and more merciful prince was there never, and to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. If any person will meddle of my cause, I require him to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord, have mercy on me! To God I commend my soul." And so she kneeling down said, "To Christ I commend my soul. Jesu, receive my soul!" The bloody blow came down from his trembling hand that gave it, when those about her could not but seem to themselves to have received it upon their own necks, she not so much as shrieking at it. God provided for her corpse sacred burial, even in place as it were consecrate to innocents.

END OF THE MEMOIR OF QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN.

_The following letters, relating to the arrest and behaviour in prison of Queen Anne Boleyn, are in themselves so interesting that no apology seems necessary for placing them in juxtaposition with the foregoing interesting memoir. They have been recently given to the public in Mr. Ellis's accurate and interesting collection of Historical Letters; that gentleman has preferred printing them as mutilated fragments, to supplying the_ lacunæ _by such means as I have ventured to adopt. Strype saw these letters previous to the calamitous fire in 1731, which injured so many valuable papers in the Cottonian Collection, and he has given large extracts from them of the most interesting passages: from this source, therefore, I have filled up such chasms as I could, that the reader may not be tantalized by the enigma-like appearance of a few disjointed words. The passages supplied have been carefully distinguished by printing them in Italics between brackets, and as Strype was a sufficiently accurate Antiquary, and faithful in his extracts, it is presumed that the reader may rely upon the authenticity of the passages thus supplied._

_The reader is already acquainted with the writer, Sir William Kingston, the Lieutenant or Constable of the Tower, from the figure he makes in the Life of Wolsey. See p. 369, et seq._

LETTER I.

_Sir William Kingston to Secretary Cromwell, upon Queen Anne's committal to the Tower._

[MS. COTTON, OTHO C. X. fol. 225.]

Thys ys to advertyse you apon my Lord of Norfolk and the kyngs counsell depart[_inge_] from the Towre I went before the quene in to hyr lodgyng, & [_then she_] sayd unto me, M. Kyngston, shall I go in to a dungyn? Now, madam, y[_ou_] shall go into your logyng that you lay in at your coronacion. It ys to gu[_de_] for me, she sayd, Jesu, have mercy on me; and kneled downe wepyng a [_great_] pace, and in the same sorow fell in to agret lawyng, and she hathe done [_so_] mony tymes syns. And then she desyred me to move the kyngs hynes that she [_myght_] have the sacarment in the closet by hyr chambr, that she my[_ght pray_] for mercy, for I am as clere from the company of man, as for s[_yn, sayd she as I_] am clere from you, and am the kyngs trew wedded wyf; and then sh[_e sayd_] M. Kyngston, do you know wher for I am here, and I sayd Nay, and then [_she sayd_] when saw you the kyng? and I sayd, I saw hym not syns I saw [_him in_] the Tylte yerde, and then M. K. I pray you to tell me wher my [_Lord Roch_]ford ys? and I told hyr I saw hym afore dyner in the cort. O [_where ys_] my sweet brod'er? I sayd I left hym at York place, and so I dyd. I [_hear say, say_]d she, that I shuld be accused with iij men; and I can say [_no more but_] nay, withyowt I shuld oppen my body; and ther with opynd [_her gown sayeng, O Nor_]res, hast thow accused me, thow ar in the Towre with me, & [_thou and I shal_]l dy to gether: and, Marke, thou art here to. O my mother, [_thou wilt dy_] for sorow, and meche lamented my lady of Worcet^r, for by ca[_wse her child_] dyd not store in hyr body, and my wyf sayd what shuld [_be the cawse, she_] sayd for the sorow she toke for me: and then she sayd M. K[_ingston, shall I dy_] with yowt just^s; & I sayd, the porest sugett the kyng [_hath had justis, and_] ther with she lawed. All thys sayings was yester ny[_ght_] . . . . . . . . & thys moryng dyd talke with mestrys Cosȳ[217], [_and said that Nor_]res dyd say on Sunday last unto the quenes amn[_er, that he wold sw_]ere for the quene that she was a gud woman. [_And then sayd Mrs._] Cosyn, Madam, why shuld ther be hony seche maters [_spoken of? Mary_,] sayd she, I bad hym do so, for I asked hym why he [_went nat thorough with_] hys maryage? and he made ansur he wold tary [_a time. Then said she, you_] loke for ded mens showys; for yf owth cam[_e to the king but good_,] you wold loke to have me; and he sayd, yf he [_should have ony soche thought_,] he wold hys hed war of; and then she sayd, [_she could undo him if she wold_,] and ther with thay fell yowt. Bot [_she said, she more feared Weston; for_] on Wysson Monday ^{Twysday} last [_Weston told he_]r that Nores cam more u[_nto her chawmbre for her then for M_]age[218], and further . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wher I was commaunded to charge the gentlewemen that y gyf thaye atende apon the quene, that ys to say, thay shuld have now commynycaseon with hyr, in lese[219] my wyf ware present, and so I dyd hit, notwithstaundyng it canot be; for my lady Bolen and mestrys Cosyn lyes on the quenes palet, and I and my wyf at the dore with yowt, so at[4] thay most nedes talke at[220] be without; bot I have every thyng told me by mestrys Cosyn that she thynks met for mee to knowe, and tother ij gentlewemen lyes with yowt me, and as I may knowe [_the_] kings plesur in the premysses I shall folow. From the Towre this mo . . .

S^r. syns the makyng of thys letter the quene spake of West[_on[221] that she_] had spoke to hym by cause he dyd love hyr kynswoma[_n Mrs. Skelton and that s_]he sayd he loved not hys wyf; and he made anser to hyr [_again that he_] loved won in hyr howse bettr then them bothe[; _she asked him who is that? to which he answered_] that it ys your self; and then she defyed hym.

WILL[=M] KYNG[_STON_]

LETTER II.

_Sir William Kingston to Secretary Cromwell, on Queen Anne's behaviour in Prison._

[MS. COTTON, OTHO C. X. fol. 222.]

After your departyng yesterday, Greneway gentilman ysshar cam to me, & . . . M. Caro and Mast^r Bryan commanded hym in the kyngs name to my [_Lord of_]

Rotchfort from my lady hys wyf, and the message was now more . . . . . se how he dyd; and also she wold humly sut unto the kyngs hy[_nes_] . . . . for hyr husband; and so he gaf hyr thanks, and desyred me to know [_at what_] tyme he shuld cum affore the kyngs counsell, for I thynk I s[_hall not_] cum forthe tyll I cum to my jogement, wepyng very . . . . . . . . I departed from hym, and when I cam to the chambr the [_quene heard_] of me and sent for me, and sayde I here say my lord my [_brother is_] here; it ys trowth, sayd I; I am very glad, said sh[_e that we_] bothe be so ny together; and I showed hyr here wase . . . . Weston and Brerton, and she made very gud countenans . . . . I also sayd, M. Page and Wyet wase mo, then she sayd he ha . . . . on hys fyst tother day and ye here now bot ma . . . . . . I shall desyre you to bayre a letter from me [_to Master_] Secretory; and then I sayd, madam, tell it me by [_word of mouth & I_] will do it, and so gaf me thanks saying, I ha[_ve moche marvell_] that the kyng's counsell comes not to me; and thys [_same day she_] sayd we shuld have now rayne tyll she ware [_delivered owt_] of the Towre. I pray you it may be shortly by [_cawse of the_] fayre wether. You know what I mayne. The quen[_e sayd this_] nyght that the kyng wyst what he dyd wh[_an he put soche_] ij abowt hyr as my lady Boleyn and Mestres [_Cosyns, for_] thay cowd tell hyr now thyng of my [_lord her father nor_] nothyng ellys, bot she defyed them all. B[_ot upon this my lady Bolen_] sayd to hyr, seche desyre as you heve ha[_d to soche tales_] hase browthe you to thys. And then sayd [_Mrs. Stoner, Marke_] ys the worst cheryssht of heny m[_an in the howse, for he_] wayres yernes, she sayd that was [_becaws he was no_] gentleman. Bot he wase never in m[_y chamb^r but at Winchestr, and_] ther she sent for hym to ple[_y on the virginals, for there my_] logyng was [_above the kings_] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . for I never spake with hym syns, bot apon Saterday before May day, and then I fond hym standyng in the ronde wyndo in my chambr of presens, and I asked why he wase so sad, and he ansured and sayd it was now mater, and then she sayd, you may not loke to have me speke to you as I shuld do to anobull man, by cause you be aninferer persson. No, no, madam, aloke sufficed me; and thus far you well . . [_s_]he hathe asked my wyf whether heny body maks thayr bed . . . . [_m_]y wyf ansured and sayd, nay, I warant you, then she say . . . . . . . y myght make baletts Well now bot ther ys non bet . . . . . . . . d that can do it, yese sayd my wyf master Wyett by . . . sayed trew.

. . . . my lord my brod' will dy.} . . . . ne I am sur thys was as } WILL[=M] KYNGSTON. . . . tt downe to den^r thys day.}

. . . . . thys day at diner I sent M. Nores hys diner & sent hym . . . . . . . . a knave to hys prest that wayted apon hym withe . . . . . . . . . . . t unto hym, and he ansured hym agayn . . . . . . . . . . . . ny thyng of my confession he ys worthye to have . . . . . . . hyt I defy hym; and also he desyreth to hav . . . . . . . . . [_ha_]lf anowre yf it may be the kyngs plesur .

WILL[=M] KYNG[STON.]

LETTER III.

_Sir William Kyngston to Secretary Cromwell, with further details of the Queen's conduct._

[MS. COTTON, OTHO C. X. fol. 224 b.]

S^R.

The quene hathe meche desyred to have here in the closet the sacarments, & also hyr amner who she supposeth to be Devet; for won owre she ys determyned to dy, and the next owre meche contrary to that. Yesterday after your departyng I sent for my wyf, & also for mestrys Cossyn to know how the[222] had done that day, they sayd she had bene very mery and made agret dyner, and yet sone after she called for hyr supper, havyng marvell wher I was all day; and after supper she sent for me, and at my commyng she sayd, "Wher have you bene all day," and I mad ansure I had bene with prysoners, "so," she sayd, "I thowth I hard M. Tresur[_er_,"] I ansured he was not here; then she be gan talke and sayd I was creuely handeled ... a Grēweche with the kyngs counsell with my lord of Norfolke that he sayd, [_Tut, tut, tut_,] and shakyng hys hed iij or iiij tymes, and as for Master Tresurer he was in the [_Forest of Windsor_.] You know what she meynes by that, and named M^r. Controler to be avery [_gentleman_] ... she to be a quene and crevely handeled as was never sene; bot I [_think the king_] dose it to prove me, and dyd lawth with all and was very mery, and th[_en she said I shall have just_]ists; and then I sayde have now dowt ther[_in_]; then she sayd yf hony man [_accuse me I can say bot n_]ay, & thay can bring now wytnes, and she had talked with the gentell[_wemen_] ... sayd I knew at Marks commyng to the Towre that nyght I reysayved ... at it was x. of the cloke or he ware well loged, and then she sayd ... knew of Nores goyng to the Towre, and then she sayd I had ... next yf it had bene leyd she had wone, and then she sayd I w[_old God I had m_]y bysshoppys for thay wold all go to the kyng for me, for I thy[_nke the most part of_] Yngland prays for me, and yf I dy you shall se the grette[_st punishment for m_]e withyn thys vij yere that ever cam to Yngland, & then sh[_e sayd I shal be in heaven, for_] I have done mony gud dedys in my days, bot zit I thynke [_moche onkindnes yn the_] kyng to put seche abowt me as I never loved: I showed [_her that the king toke theym_] to be honest and gud wemen, bot I wold have had [_of myn owne prevy chambre_,] weche I favor most &c.

WILL[=M] KYNGST[_ON_.]

To Mast^r Seretory.

LETTER IV.

_Edward Baynton to the Treasurer: declaring that only one person, named Mark, will confess any thing against Queen Anne._

[MS. COTTON, OTHO C. X. fol. 209. b.]

M^R THEASURER,

This shalbe to advertyse yow that here is myche communycacion that noman will confesse any thyng agaynst her, but allonly Marke of any actuell thynge. Wherfore (in my folishe conceyte) it shulde myche toche the kings hono^r if it shulde no farther appeere. And I cannot beleve but that the other two bee as f[_ully_] culpapull as ever was hee. And I thynke assur[_edly_] the on kepith the others councell. As many .... conjectures in my mynde causeth me to thynk ... specially of the communycacion that was last bet[_wene_] the quene and Master Norres. M^r. Aumener [_tolde_] me as I wolde I myght speke with M^r. S[_ecretorie_] and yow together more playnely expresse my ... yf case be that they have confessyd like wret ... all thyngs as they shulde do than my n....... at apoynte. I have mewsed myche at ...... of mastres Margery whiche hath used her .... strangely toward me of late, being her fry[_nde_] as I have ben. But no dowte it cann[_ot be_] but that she must be of councell therewith, [_there_] hath ben great fryndeship betwene the q[_ene and_] her of late. I here farther that the que[_ne_] standith styfly in her opynyon that she wo...... whiche I thynke is in the trust that she . ... ther two. But if yo^r busynes be suche .. .... not com, I wolde gladly com and wayte . ...... ke it requysyte. From Grenewy[_che_] ....... mornyng.

EDWARD.....

LETTER V.

_Sir William Kyngston to Secretary Cromwell, May 16^{th}. 1536, upon the preparations for the execution of my Lord Rochford and Queen Anne._

[HARL. MS. 283. fol. 134. _Orig._]

SIR,

Thys day I was with the kyng's grace and declared the petysyons of my Lord of Rochford, wherin I was answred. Sir, the sayd lord meche desyreth to speke with you, weche towchet hys consyens meche as he sayth, wherin I pray you I may know your plesur, for by cause of my promysse made unto my sayd lord to do the same, and also I shall desyre you further to know the kyngs plesur towchyng the quene, as well for her comfyt as for the preparacion of skefolds and hother necessarys consernyng. The kyng's grace showed me that my lord of Cantorbury shuld be hyr confessar, and was here thys day with the quene; & not[223] in that mater, sir, the tyme ys short, for the kyng supposeth the gentelmen to dy to morow, and my lord of Rocheford with the reysydew of gentelmen, & as zit with yowt [_confession_] weche I loke for, bot I have told my lord of Rocheford that he be in aredynes to morow to sulfur execusyon, and so he accepse[224] it very well, and will do his best to be redy, Notwithstandyng he wold have reysayved hys ryghts, weche hathe not bene used and in especiall here. Sir, I shall desyre you at[225] we here may know the kyngs plesur here as shortly as may be, at[225] we here may prepayre for the same weche[226] ys necessary, for the same we here have now may for to do execusyon. Sir, I pray you have gud rymembrance in all thys for hus[227] to do, for we shalbe redy al ways to our knowlage. Zit thys day at dyner the quene sayd at[225] she shuld go to Anvures[228] & ys in hope of lyf, and thus far you well.

WILLM KYNGSTON.

LETTER VI.

_Sir William Kingston to Lord Cromwell, apparently May 18^{th} 1536._

[MS. COTTON, OTHO C. X. fol. 223.]

SYR,

Thys shalbe to advertyse you I have resayved your lett^r wherin yo[_u wolde_] have strangerys conveyed yowt of the Towre and so thay be by the [_meanis_] of Richard Gressum, & Will-m Loke, & Wythepoll, bot the [=n]mbr[229] of stra[_ngers past_] not XXX. and not mony; Hothe and the inbassit^r of the emperor had a [_servaunt_] ther and honestly put yowt. S^r yf we have not an owre[230] serten [_as it may_] be knowen in London, I thynke he[_re_] wilbe bot few and I thynk [_a resonable_] humbur[231] ware bes: for I suppose she wyll declare hyr self to b[_e a good_] woman for all men bot for the kyng at the o^r of hyr de[_th. For thys_] mornyng she sent for me that I myght be with hyr at [_soche tyme_] asshe reysayved the gud lord to the in tent I shuld here by[_r speke as_] towchyng her innosensy alway to be clere. & in the writy[_ng of this_] she sent for me, and at my commyng she sayd, M. Kyngston, I he[_ar saye I shall_] not dy affore none, & I am very sory ther fore; for I thowth [_than to_] be dede [_an_]d past my payne. I told hyr it shuld be now payne it w[_as so sottell. And then she said I_] hard say the execut^r. was very gud, and I have a ly[_ttle necke, and put he_]r hand abowt it lawyng hartely.

I have sen[_e mony men_ &] also wemen executed and at they have bene in gre[_te sorrowe, and to my knowle_]ge thys lady hathe meche joye and plesur in dethe. [_Sir, hyr Amner is conti_]newally with hyr, and hasse byne syns ij of the clo[_cke after midnight. This is_] the effect of hony thyng that ys here at [_thys tyme, and thus fare yow_] well.

Your . . . . . .

WILL[=M] KYNG[_STON_.]

LETTER VII.

_From the Earl of Northumberland, addressed "To his beloved Cosyn Thomas Arundel, one of the Gentlemen of my Lord Legates prevy chambre." It was written soon after the death of the Earl's father, in 1527. Referred to at p. 339 of Wolsey's life._

[FROM THE ARCHIVES OF THE DUKE OF NORTHUMBERLAND.]

Bedfellow, after my most harte recommendacion: Thys Monday the iijd off August I resevyd by my servaunt, Letters from yow beryng datt the XX^{th} day off July, deliveryd unto hym the sayme day at the kyngs town of Newcastell; wher in I do perseayff my lord Cardenalls pleasour ys to have such boks as was in the Chapell of my lat lord and ffayther (wos soll Jhu pardon). To the accomplyshment of which at your desyer I am confformable, notwithstanding I trust to be able ons to set up a chapel off myne owne. But I pray God he may look better upon me than he doth. But me thynk I have lost very moch, ponderyng yt ys no better regardyd; the occasion wher off he shall persayff.

Fyrst, the long lyeng of my tressorer[232], with hys very hasty and unkynd words unto hym, not on my parte deserved.

Also the news off Mr. Manyng, the which ys blon obroud over all Yorksher; that neyther by the kyng[233], nor by my lord cardenall am I regardyd; And that he wyll tell me at my metyng with hym, when I come unto Yorksher; which shall be within thys month, God wyllyng: but I ffer[234] my words to M^r Manyng shall displeas my lord; for I will be no ward.

Also, bedfellow, the payns I tayk and have taykyn sens my comyng hether, are not better regardyd; but by a fflatteryng Byshope of Carel[235] and that fals Worm[236] shall be broth[237] to the messery and carffulness that I am in; and in such slanders, that now and my lord cardenal wold, he cannot bryng me howth[238] thereof.

* * * * *

I shall with all sped send up your lettrs with the books unto my lord's grace, as to say iiij Anteffonars[239], such as I thynk were not seen a gret wyll; v Gralls; an Ordeorly; a Manuall; viij^{th} Proffessioners, And ffor all the ressidew, they not worth the sending, nor ever was occupyd in my lords chapel. And also I shall wryt at thys time as ye have wylled me.

Yff my lord's grace wyll be so good Lord unto me, as to gyf me lychens[240] to put Wyll^m Worme within a castell of myn off Anwyk in assurty, unto the tyme he have accomptyd ffor more money rec^d. than ever I rec^d., I shall gyff hys grace ij C^{li}. and a benefiss off a C. worth unto hys colleyg, with such other thyngs resserved as his [grace] shall desyre; but unto such tyme as myne Awdytors hayth takyn accompt off him: wher in good bedfellow do your best, ffor els he shall put us to send myselff, as at owr metyng I shall show yow.

And also gyff secuer credens unto this berer, whom I assur yow I have ffonddon a marvellous honest man, as ever I ffownd in my lyff. In hast at my monestary of Hul Park the iij^d. day of August. In the owne hand off

Yours ever assured,

H. NORTHUMBERLAND.

To my bedfellow Arundel.

LETTER VIII.

_The Earl of Northumberland to Cromwell, denying any contract or promise of marriage between Anne Bullen and himself._

[ORIGINAL, COTT. LIB. OTHO C. 10.]

M^R SECRETARY, This shall be to signifie unto you that I perceive by Sir Raynold Carnaby, that there is supposed a precontract between the queen and me; wherupon I was not only heretofore examined upon my oath before the Archbishopps of Canterbury and York, but also received the blessed sacrament upon the same before the Duke of Norfolk, and other the king's highnes' council learned in the spiritual law; assuring you M^r Secretary, by the said oath, and blessed body which affore I received, and hereafter intend to receive, that the same may be to my damnation, if ever there were any contracte or promise of marriage between her and me. At Newington Green, the xiijth day of Maye, in the 28^{th} year of the reigne of our soveraigne lord King Henry the VIII^{th}.

Your assured,

NORTHUMBERLAND.

LETTER IX.

_Queen Catherine of Arragon and King Henry VIII^{th} to Cardinal Wolsey, a joint letter, 1527._

[MS. COTTON, VITELL. B. XII. fol. 4.]

Mr. Ellis has printed this letter in its mutilated condition; I have ventured to supply the _lacunæ_ from the copy in Burnet's History of the Reformation, vol. i. p. 55. Burnet obtained his transcript when it was in a perfect state, but has unaccountably attributed the first part of the letter to Anne Boleyn. It is however said by Mr. Ellis to be in the hand-writing of Catherine, and cannot but be considered very interesting.

MY LORD, in my moste humblyst wys that my hart can thinke [I _desire you to pardon_] me that I am so bold to troubyl yow with my sympyl [& _rude wryteng, estemyng_] yt to prosed from her that is muche desirus to kno[_we that youer grace does well_.] I paersave be this berar that you do; the wiche I [_praye God long to continewe_,] as I am moste bonde to pray, for I do know the g[_reate paines and trowbles that_] you have taken for me bothe day and nyght [_is never like to be recompensyd on_] my part, but allonly in loveng you next on to the [_kinges grace above all_] creatures leveng; and I do not dought but the [_dayly proffes of my deades_] shall manefestly declaer and aferme my wryte[_ng to be trewe, and I do_] truste you do thynke the same. My lord, I do assure you I do long to heare from you som newes of the legat, for I do hope and [_they come from you they_] shall be very good, and I am seur that you deseyre [_it as moche as I_] and more, and ytt waer possibel as I knowe ytt ys not: And thus remaineing in a stedfast hope I make anend of my letter, [_writtyn with the hande_] of her that is moste bounde to be----

➔_Here Queen Catherine's part ends, the rest is in the hand-writing of Henry the Eighth._

The wrytter of thys letter wolde not cease tyll she had [_caused me likewise_] to set to my hand desyryng yow thowgh it be short to t[_ake it in good part_.] I ensure yow ther is nother of us but that grettly desyry[_th to see you, and_] muche more rejoyse to heare that you have scapyd thys plage [_so well, trustyng_] the fury thereof to be passyd, specially with them that k[_epyth good diett_] as I trust you doo. The not heryng of the legates arywall [_in Franse causeth_] us sumwhat to muse; nottwithstandyng we trust by your dily[_gens and vigilancy_] (with the assystence of Almyghty God) shortly to be easyd owght [_of that trouble_.] No more to yow at thys tyme but that I pray God send yow [_as good health_] and prosperity as the wryters wolde.

By your lovyng so[_veraign & frende_]

HENR[_Y R._]

LETTER X.

_Anne Boleyn to Cardinal Wolsey._

[FIDDES' COLLECTIONS, p. 256.]

MY LORD, after my most humble recommendations this shall be to gyve unto your grace as I am most bownd my humble thanks for the gret payn & travelle that your grace doth take in steudyeng by your wysdome and gret dylygens how to bryng to pas honerably the gretyst welth that is possyble to come to any creator lyving, and in especyall remembryng howe wretchyd and unworthy I am in comparyng to his hyghnes. And for you I do know my selfe never to have deservyd by my desertys that you shuld take this gret payn for me, yet dayly of your goodnes I do perceyve by all my frends, and though that I had nott knowlege by them the dayly proffe of your deds doth declare your words and wrytyng toward me to be trewe; nowe good my Lord your dyscressyon may consyder as yet how lytle it is in my power to recompence you but all onely wyth my good wyl, the whiche I assewer you that after this matter is brought to pas you shall fynd me as I am: bownde in the mean tym to owe you my servyse, and then looke what a thyng in thys woreld I can immagen to do you pleasor in, you shall fynd me the gladyst woman in the woreld to do yt, and next unto the kyngs grace of one thyng I make you full promes to be assewryd to have yt and that is my harty love unfaynydly deweryng my lyf, and beying fully determynd with Godds grace never to change thys porpos, I make an end of thys my reude and trewe meanyd letter, praying ower Lord to send you moche increase of honer with long lyfe. Wrytten with the hand of her that besechys your grace to except this letter as prosydyng from one that is most bownde to be

Your humble and

obedient servante,

ANNE BOLEYN.

LETTER XI.

_Anne Boleyn to Cardinal Wolsey._

FROM FIDDES' COLLECTIONS, p. 255.

_Collated with the Original in the Cottonian Collection. Brit. Mus. Otho_ C. X. fol. 218.

MY LORD, in my most humblyst wyse that my powuer hart can thynke I do thanke your grace for your kind letter, and for youer rych and goodly present, the whyche I shall never be able to desarve wyth owt your gret helpe, of the whyche I have hetherto hade so grete plente that all the dayes of my lyfe I ame moaste bownd of all creators next the kyngs grace to love and serve your grace, of the whyche I besyche you never to dowte that ever I shalle vary frome this thought as long as ony brethe is in my body. And as tochyng your grace's troble with the swet I thanke ower Lord that them that I desyerd and prayed for ar scapyd, and that is the kyng and you. Not doughthyng bot that God has preservyd you bothe for grete cawsys knowen allonly to his hygh wysdome. And as for the commyng of the legate I desyer that moche; and yf it be Goddis pleasor I pray him to send this matter shortly to a good ende; and then I trust my lord to recompense part of your grete panys, the whych I must requyer you in the meane tyme to excepte my good wyll in the stede of the power, the whyche must prosede partly from you as ower Lourd knoweth to whome I be syche to sende you longe lyfe with continewance in honor. Wrytten wyth the hande of her that is most bound to be

Your humble and

obedyent servante,

ANNE BOLEYN.

LETTER XII.

_Cardinal Wolsey in his Distress to Thomas Cromwell._

MS. COTTON. VESP. F. XIII. fol. 76.

_From Fiddes' Collections, p. 256. Collated with the Original._

MYN OWNE ENTERLY BELOVYD CROMWELL,

I beseche you as ye love me and wyl evyr do any thyng for me, repare hyther thys day as sone as the parlement ys brokyn up, leyng aparte all thyngs for that tyme; for I wold nat onely commynycat thyngs unto yow wherin for my comfort & relief I wold have your good sad, dyscret advyse & counsell, but also opon the same commytt sertyng thyngs requyryng expedicion to yow, on my behalf to be solycytyd: this I pray you therfor, to hast your commyng hyther assafore, with owt omyttyng so to do, as ye tendyr my socor, reliff & comfort, and quyetnes of mynde. And thus fare ye well: from Asher, in hast, thys Satyrday in the mornyng, with the rude hande & sorrowful hert of your assuryd lover

T. CAR^{LIS} EBOR.

I have also serteyn thyngs consernyng yowr sylf wych I am suere ye wolbe glad to here & knowe: fayle not therfore to be here thys nygth, ye may retorne early in the mornyng ageyn yf nede shul so requyre. _Et iterum vale._

Mr. Augusteyn[241] shewyd me how ye had wryttyn onto me a lettre wherin ye shuld adv^rtyse of the comyng hyther of the Duke of Norfolke: I assure you ther cam to my hands no suche lettre.

LETTER XIII.

_From Wolsey to Dr. Stephen Gardener, Secretary of State._

Communicated to Mr. Grove by Mr. Littleton, afterwards Lord Littleton, who possessed the original. It is now in the _Ashmole Museum_ at Oxford.

MY OWNE GOODE MASTYR SECRETARY,

Goyng this day out of my pue to sey masse, your lettres datyd yesternygth at London wer delyveryd unto me; by the contynue wherof I undyrstand, that the kyng's hyhnes, of hys excellent goodnes & cheryte ys contentyd, that I shall injoy & have the admynystracion of Yorke merly, with the gyftts of the promocyons spiritual & temporall of the same, reservyd onely onto his nobyll grace the gyft of v or vj of the best promocions. And that hys pleasure ys, I shal leve Wynchester & Saynt Albons. As hereonto Mr. Secretary, I can nat expresse howe moche I am bowndyn to the kyng's royal majeste for thys hys gret & bowntawse liberalyte, reputyng the same to be moche more then I shal ever be abyl to deserve. Howbeyt yf hys majeste, consyderyng the short & lyttyl tyme that I shal lyve here in thys world, by the reason of such hevynes as I have conceyved in my hert, with the ruinyuose of the olde howsys & the decay of the said archbyshopryck at the best to the sum of viii C Marcke yearly, by the reason of the act passyd for Fynys of Testaments, wth also myn long paynful servys and poore degre; and for the declaration of hys grace's excellent cheryte, yf hys hyhnes be myndyd I shal leve Wynchester & Saynt Albon's, wych I supposyd, when I maid my submyssyon, not offendying in my trewth towards hys royal parson, dygnyte, or majeste royal, I should not now have desyrvyd to have left; and much the more knowyng his grace's excellent propensyon to pyte & mercy, & rememberyng the francke departyng with of all that I had in thys world, that I may have summe convenyent pension reservyd unto me, suche as the kyng's hyhnes of hys nobyll charite shal thynke mete, so orderyng his that shal succede and my lyvyng, that the same may be of lyck valew yeerly and exstent. Whereat my trust ys, and my herte so gevyth me, that hys majeste wold make no dyffyculte, yf yt may lycke yow friendly to propone the same, assuryng yow that I desyre not thys for any mynde (God ys my judge), that I have to accumulate good, or desyre that I have to the muke of world; for, God be thankyd, at thys ower I set no more by the ryches & promocyons of the world, then by the roshe undyr my fote; but onely for the declaration of the kyng's favor & hyhe cheryte, & to have wherewith to do good dedys, & to helpe my poore servants and kynnysfolks. And furthermore that yt wold please the kyng's excellent goodnes by your freindly medyacion, consyderyng how slendyrly I am furnyshyed in my howse, nowe specially that the apparell of Wynchester and Saynt Albons shal be takyn from me, to geve and appoynt unto me a convenyent fernyture for the same, _non ad pompam, sed necessariam honestatem_. And yf I may have the free gyft and dysposycion of the benefyces, yt shalbe gretly to my comfort. And yet when any of the v or vi pryncypall shal fortune to be voyd, the kyng's grace being myndyd to have any of them, hys hyhnes shalbe as sure of the same, as though they wer reservyd. And thus by his nobyl & mercyful goodnes delyvered owt of extreme calamite, & restoryd to a newe fredome, I shal, with God's mercy & help, so ordyr my lyff, that I trust hys majeste shal take special comfort therin, & be pleasyd with the same: _Spero quod hoc, quæ peto, non videbitur magna_. Howbeyt I most humbly submyt and referre all my petytions, _immo ipsam vitam_, to his gracyous ordynance & pleasure, praying yow to declare & sygnify the same, supplying myn indysposycion & lacke of wyt, conceyvyd by reason of my extreme sorowe & hevynes, that the same may be to the kyng's contentacion, wherin I had lever be ded then to offende in word, thowght, or dede, and as towching the grantyng of the fee of one c li. for Mr. Nores duryng hys lyff for hys good servys done unto the kyng's hyhnes, for the wych I have always lovyd him, and for the singuler good hert and mynde, that I knowe he hath alweys borne unto me, I am content to make out my grawnte upon the same, ye & it wol please the kyng to inlarge it one c. li. more; and semblably cause Mr. Thesauror hath the kepyng of the kyng's game nygh to Fernam, I wold gladly, if it may stand with the kyng's pleasure, grawnte unto hym the reversion of such thinges as the Lord Sands hath there, with the ampliacon of the fee above that wych is oldely accustomyd, to the sum of xl. li. by the yeere; & also I wold gladly geve to Mr. Comptroller a lycke fee, & to Mr. Russel, another of xx. li. by the yeere. Remyttyng thys and all other my sutes to the kyng's hyhnes pleasure, mercy, pity, & compassion, moste holly. Beseechyng hys Hyhnes so nowe gracyously to ordyr me, that I may from hensforth serve God quietly & with repose of mynd, & pray as I am most bowndyn, for the conservacyon & increase of his most nobyll and royal astate. And thus with my dayly prayer I byd yow farewell. From Asher hastely with the rude hand and moste hevy herte of

Yowr assuryd frende & bedysman,

T. CAR^{LIS} EBOR.

LETTER XIV.

_Cardinal Wolsey to Dr. Stephen Gardener._

This Letter was also communicated to Mr. Grove by Mr. Littleton. It is now in the Ashmole Museum at Oxford.

MY OWNE GOODE MASTYR SECRETARY,

Aftyr my moste herty commendacions I pray yow at the reverens of God to helpe, that expedicion be usyd in my persuts, the delay wherof so replenyshyth my herte with hevynes, that I can take no reste; nat for any vayne fere, but onely for the miserable condycion, that I am presently yn, and lyclyhod to contynue yn the same, onles that yow, in whom ys myn assuryd truste, do help & releve me therin; For fyrst, contynuyng here in this mowest & corrupt ayer, beyng enteryd into the passyon of the dropsy. _Cum prostatione appetitus et continuo insomnio._ I cannat lyve: Wherfor of necessyte I must be removyd to some other dryer ayer and place, where I may have comodyte of physycyans. Secondly, havyng but Yorke, wych is now decayd, by viii C. li. by the yeere, I cannot tell how to lyve, & kepe the poore nombyr of folks wych I nowe have, my howsys ther be in decay, and of evry thyng mete for howssold onprovydyd and furnyshyd. I have non apparell for my howsys ther, nor money to bring me thether, nor to lyve wyth tyl the propysse tyme of the yeere shall come to remove thether. Thes thyngs consyderyd, Mr. Secretary, must nedys make me yn agony and hevynes, myn age therwith & sycknes consyderyd, alas Mr. Secretary, ye with other my lordys shewyd me, that I shuld otherwyse be furnyshyd & seyn unto, ye knowe in your lernyng & consyens, whether I shuld forfet my spiritualties of Wynchester or no. Alas! the qualytes of myn offencys consyderyd, with the gret punishment & losse of goodes that I have sustaynyd, owt to move petyfull hertys; and the moste nobyl kyng, to whom yf yt wold please yow of your cherytable goodnes to shewe the premyses aftyr your accustomable wysdome & dexteryte, yt ys not to be dowbtyd, but his highnes wold have consyderacyon & compassyon, aggmentyng my lyvyng, & appoyntyng such thyngs as shuld be convenient for my furniture, wych to do shalbe to the kyng's high honor, meryte, & dyscharge of consyens, & to yow gret prayse for the bryngyng of the same to passe for your olde brynger up and lovying frende. Thys kyndnes exibite from the kyng's hyghnes shal prolong my lyff for some lytyl whyl, thow yt shall nat be long, by the meane whereof hys grace shal take profygtt, & by my deth non. What ys yt to hys hyhnes to give some convenyent porcion owt of Wynchester, & Seynt Albons, hys grace takyng with my herty good wyl the resydew. Remember, good Mr. Secretary, my poore degre, & what servys I have done, and how nowe approchyng to deth, I must begyn the world ageyn. I besech you therfore, movyd with pity and compassyon soker me in thys my calamyte, and to your power wych I knowe ys gret, releve me; and I wyth all myn shal not onely ascrybe thys my relef unto yow, but also praye to God for the increase of your honor, & as my poore shal increase, so I shal not fayle to requyte your kyndnes. Wryttyn hastely at Asher, with the rude and shackyng hand of

Your dayly bedysman,

And assuryd frend,

T. CAR^{LIS} EBOR.

To the ryght honorable and my assuryd frende Mastyr Secretary.

LETTER XV.

_Cardinal Wolsey to Secretary Gardener_,

Desiring him to write to him and give him an account of the king's intentions with regard to him. (_From Strype._)

Myn own good mastyr secretary, albeit I am in such altiration and indisposition of my hede & body, by the meansse of my dayly sorowe & hevynesse, that I am fen omit to writ any long l[=re]s. Yet my trustyng frend, Thomas Crowmwel, retornyng & reparyng unto yow, I cowde nat forbere, but brively to put yow in remembrance: how that aftyr the consultation takyn by the kyngs hyghnes opon myn orderyng, which ye supposyd shulde be on Sunday was sevennyght, ye wolde not fayle to advertyse me at the length of the specialties thereof. Of the [=w]ch to here & have knowleg, I have & dayly do looke for. I pray yow therefore at the reverens of God, & of this holy tyme, & as ye love & tendyr my poore lyf, do so moche as to wrytt onto me your seyd l[=re]s: wherby I may take some cumfort & rest: nat dowting but your hert is so gentyl & pityful, that havyng knowleg in what agony I am yn, ye wole take the payne to send onto me your seyd consollatory l[=re]s. Wherby ye shal nat onely deserve toward God, but also bynde me to be as I am, your contynual bedysman. Wrytten this mornyng at Asher, with the rude hand and sorroweful hert of yours with hert and prayer.

T. CARDINALIS EBOR. Miserrimus.

To the right honorable Mr. Secretary.

LETTER XVI.

_Cardinal Wolsey to Secretary Gardener._

To draw up his pardon. (_From Strype._)

MYN OWNE GOOD MASTYR SECRETARY,

Aftyr my moste herty recommendations, with lycke thanks for your goodnes towards me, thes shal be to advertyse yow that I have beyn informyd by my trusty frend Thomas Cromwell that ye have signifyed onto hym to my syngular consolation how that the kynges highnes movyd with pety & compassyon, & of hys excellent goodnes & cheryte consyderyng the lamentable condition & stat that I stand yn, hath wyllyd yow with other lords and mastyrs of hys honorable cownsell, to intende to the perfyghtyng & absolvyng without further tract or delay of myn end & appoyntement; and that my pardon shulde be made in the moste ample forme that my counsell cowde devise. For thys the kyngs moste gracyous remembrance, procedyng of hymself, I accompt my sylf not onely moste bowndyn to serve & pray for the preservation of hys moste royal majestie, but also thancke God that ye have occasion given onto you to be a sollycyter & setter forth of such thynges as do & shall conserve my seyde ende. In the makyng & compowndyng wherof myn assured truste is, that ye wole shewe the love & affection wych ye have & bere towards me, your olde lover & frende: so declaryng your self therin, that the worlde may parceyve that by your good meanys the kyng ys the bettyr goode lorde unto me; & that nowe newly in maner comyng to the world, ther maye be such respect had to my poore degree, olde age & longe contynued servys, as shal be to the kyngs hygh honor & your gret prayse & laude. Wych ondowtydly shall folowe yf ye optinde yowre benyvolens towards me, & men perceive that by your wisdome & dexterite I shalbe relevyd, & in this my calamyte holpen. At the reverens therefore of God myn owne goode Mr. Secretary, & refugy, nowe set to your hande, that I may come to a laudable end & repos, seyng that I may be furnyshyd aftyr such a sorte & maner as I may ende my short tyme & lyff to the honor of Crystes churche & the prince. And besides my dayly prayer & true hert I shal so requyte your kyndnes, as ye shall have cause to thyncke the same to be well imployde, lycke as my seyd trusty frende shall more amply shewe onto you. To whom yt may please yow to geve firme credens and lovyng audyens. And I shall pray for the increase of your honour. Wryttyn at Assher with the tremyllyng hand & hevy hert of your assuryd lover & bedysman

T. CARD^{LIS} EBOR.

To the ryght honorable and my singular good frende Mayster Secretary.

LETTER XVII.

_Cardinal Wolsey to Secretary Gardener_,

Desiring him to favour the cause of the Provost of Beverly, and to intercede with the king for him and his colleges. (_From Strype._)

MYNE AWNE GENTIL MAISTER SECRETARY,

After my mooste herty recommendations, these shal be to thanke you for the greate humanite, lovyng & gentil recule, that ye have made unto the poore Provost of Beverly: & specialy, for that ye have in such wise addressed hym unto the kings highnes presence, that his grace not onely hath shewed unto hym, that he is his goode & gracious lorde, but also that it hath pleased hys majeste to admitte & accepte hym as his poore orator & scholer. Wherby both he & I accompte our selfs so bounden unto you, that we cannot telle how to requite this your gratitude & kyndenes; mooste hartely praying you to contynue in your good favour towards hym, & to take hym & his pore causis into your patrocynye & protection. And, as myne assured expectation & trust is, to remember the poor state & condition that I stond in, & to be a meane to the kyngs highness for my relefe in the same. In doyng wherof ye shal not onely deserve thanks of God, but also declare to your perpetual laud and prayse, that ye beyng in auctorite, have not forgoten your olde maister & frynde. And in the wey of charite, & for the love that ye bere to virtue, & _ad bona studia_, be meane to the kyngs highnes for my poore colleges; and specially for the college of Oxford. Suffer not the things, which by your greate lernyng, studie, counsaile & travaile, hath bene erected, founden, & with good statutes & ordinances, to the honour of God, increase of vertue & lernyng established, to be dissolved or dismembred. Ye do know, no man better, to what use the monasteries, suppressed by the popis licence, the kyngs consente concurryng with the same, & a pardon for the premoneri[242], be converted. It is nat to be doubted, but the kyngs highnes, of his high vertue & equite, beyng informed how every thing is passed, his mooste gracious license & consente (as is aforesaid) adhibited therunto, wol never go aboute to dissolve the said incorporations or bodyes, wherof so greate benefite & commodite shal insue unto his realme & subjects. Superfluities, if any such shal be thought & founden, may be resecat; but to destroy the hole, it were to greate pitie.

Eftsones therefore, good Maister Secretaire, I beseche you to be good maister & patrone to the said colleges: "Et non sinas opus manuum tuarum perire, aut ad nihilum redige." Thus doyng, both I, & they shal not onely pray for you, but in such wise deserve your paynes, as ye shal have cause to thinke the same to be wel bestowed & imployed, like as this present berer shal more at the large shewe unto you. To whom it may please the same to geve firme credence. And thus mooste hartely fare ye wel. From Sothewell, the xxiij^{th} day of July.

Your lovyng frende,

T. CAR^{LIS} EBOR.

To the right honorable & my singular good frende M^r Doctor Stephyns, Secretory to the Kings Highnes.

LETTER XVIII.

_Cardinal Wolsey to Secretary Gardener_,

Desiring his favour in a suit against him for a debt of 700_l._ by one Strangwish. (_From Strype._)

MYNE AWNE GOOD MAISTER SECRETARY,

After my mooste harty recommendations, these shal be to desire, & mooste effectuelly to pray you to be good maister & friende unto me, concernyng the uncharitable sute of Strangwishe for vij C li., which he pretendith that I shulde owe unto hym, for the ward of Bowes. And albeit there was at his fyrste comyng to my service, by our mutual consents, a perfecte end made between hym & me for the same, yet nowe digressyng therfrom, perceyvyng that I am out of favour, destitute of socour, & in calamite, he not onely newly demaundyth the said vij C li. but also hath made complaint unto the kyngs highnes, surmittyng, that I shulde, contrary to justice, deteyne from hym the said vij C li. For the redresse whereof, it hath pleased the kyngs majeste to direct his mooste honorable letters unto me; the contents wherof I am sure be nat unknown unto you. And insuing the purporte therof, & afore the delyvere of the same thre days by past, notwithstanding my greate necessite & poverte, onely to be out of his exclamation & inquietnes, I have written to my trusty friende, M^r Cromwel, to make certeyn reasonable offres unto hym for that intent and purpose; moost hartely beseching you to helpe, that upon declaration of such things, as upon my part shal be signified unto you by the said Maister Cromwell, some such end, by your friendely dexterite, may bee made betwixt us, as shal accorde with good congruence, & as I may supporte & be hable (myne other debts and charges considered) to bere. In the doyng wherof, ye shall bynde me to be your dayly bedesman, as knoweth God, who alwayes preserve you. From Sothewell, the xxv^{th} day of August.

Yours with hert & prayer,

T. CAR^{LIS} EBOR.

To my right entierly welbiloved frende M^r Stephyn Gardener, Secretory to kyngs highnes.

LETTER XIX.

_Lettre de Monsieur de Bellay Evesque de Bayonne à M^r le Grant Maistre._ De Londres le xvij Oct. 1529.

[MSS. DE BETHUNE BIBLIOTH. DU ROY, V. 8603. f. 113.]

MONSEIGNEUR, depuis les lettres du Roy & les aultres vostres que je pensoye sur l'heure envoyer, cette depesche a estée retardé jusques à présent, parce qu'il a fallu faire & refaire les lettres que je vous envoyé tout plein de fois, & pour ce aller & venir souvent, tant les Ducs mêmes qu'aultres de ce conseil à Windesore, dont toute à cette heure ils les m'ont envoyées en la forme que verrez par le double d'iceux. Ils me prient le plus fort du monde de faire qu'on ne trouve mauvais si en ces expéditions, & mesmement en ce que touche le principal de la depesche, je ne suis de tout satisfait comme je vouldroye, & aussi eulx mesmes, s'excusans que leur manière de négocier envers leur maistre n'est encore bien dressée, mais pour l'advenir doibvent faire merveilles, & en baillent de si grands asseurances & si bien jurées, que je ne puis me garder de les croire; je n'ay point refreschy mes lettres au Roy, car je ne voy point qu'il y en ait matière.

Au demourant, j'ay esté voir le Cardinal en ses ennuis, où j'ay trouvé les plus grand exemple de fortune que on ne scauroit voir, il m'a remonstré son cas en la plus mauvaise rhétorique que je viz jamais, car cueur & parolle luy failloient entièrement; il a bien plouré & prié que le Roy & Madame voulsissent avoir pitié de luy, s'ils avoyent trouvé qu'il leur eust guardé promesse de leur estre bon serviteur autant que son honneur & povoir se y est peu estendre, mais il me à la fin laissé sans me pouvoir dire autre chose qui vallist mieux que son visage, qui est bien descheu de la moitié de juste pris: & vous promets, Monseigneur, que sa fortune est telle que ses ennemis, encore qu'ils soyent Angloys, ne se scauroyent guarder d'en avoir pitié, ce nonobstant ne le laisseront de le poursuivre jusques au bout, & ne voyt de moyen de son salut, aussi ne fais-je sinon qu'il plaise au Roy & à Madame de l'ayder. De légation, de sceau d'auctorité, de crédit il n'en demande point, il est prest de laisser tout jusques à la chemise, & que on le laisse vivre en ung hermitage, ne le tenant ce Roy en sa mal grâce: Je l'ay reconforté au mieulx que j'ay peu, mais je n'y ay sceu faire grant chose: Depuis par un en qui il se fie, il m'a mandé ce qu'il vouldroit qu'on feist pour luy de la plus grand partie, luy voyant qu'il ne touchoit au bien des affaires du Roy qu'on luy accordast la plus raisonnable chose qui demande, c'est que le Roy escripvist à ce Roy qu'il est un grand bruit de par delà qu'il l'ait recullé d'autour de luy, & fort eslongé de la bonne grâce, en sorte qu'on dict qu'il doibve estre destruict, ce que ne pense totalement estre comme on le dict; toutefois pour la bonne fraternité, qu'ils ont ensemble, & si grant communication de tous leurs plus grans affaires, l'a bien voulu prier de y avoir égard, affin qu'il n'en entre souldainement quelque mauvaise fantasie envers ceulx qui ont veu qu'en si grant solemnité & auctorité, il ait servy d'instrument en cette perpétuelle amitié tant renommée par toute la Chrétienté; & que si d'adventure il estoit entré en quelque malcontentement de luy, il veüille ung peu modérer son affection, comme il est bien sûr que luy vouldront conseiller ceulx qui sont autour de sa personne & au maniement de ses plus grandes affaires. Voilà, Monseigneur, la plus raisonable de toutes ses demandes, en laquelle ne me veulx ingérer de dire mon advis, si diray-je bien qu'il n'y a personne ici qui deust prendre à mal telle lettre; & mesment là où ils considéreront, comme de facit ils font, qu'il sont forcés de prendre & tenir plus que jamais votre party, & d'advantage asseureray bien que la plus grant prinse qu'ils ayent peû avoir suz luy du commencement, & qui plus leur a servi à le brouiller envers le Roy, a esté qu'il déclara à ma venuë decza trop ouvertement de vouloir aller à Cambray, car les aultres persuaderent au maistre ce que c'estoient, seulement pour éviter d'estre à l'expédition du mariage, & outre cela vous promets que sans luy les aultres mectoyent ce Roy en ung terrible train de rompre la pratique de paix dont vous escripvis quelque mot en ce temps-la, mais j'en laissay dix fois en la plume, voyant que tout estoit rabillé, je vous les diray estant là, & je suis seur que le trouverez fort estrange: Il me semble, Monsieur, que à tout cela, & plusieurs aultres choses que bien entendez de vous-mesmes, on doibt avoir quelque égard, vous donnerez, s'il vous plaist, advis au Roy & à Madame de tout cecy, affin qu'ils advisent ce qu'il leur plaira en faire, s'ils pensent n'empirer par cela leurs affaires, je croy que voulentiers, outre ce que sera quelque charité, ils vouldront qu'on cognoisse qu'ils ayent retiré ung leur affectionné serviteur, & tenu pour tel par chescun, des portes d'enfer; mais sur tout, Monseigneur, il desire que ce Roy ne connoisse qu'ils en ayent esté requis, & que il les en ay fait requerir en façon du monde, cela l'acheveroit d'affoller; car pour vous dire le vray, & hormis toute affection, je vous asseure que la plus grant prinse que ses ennemis ayent euë sur luy, outre celle du mariage, ce a esté de persuader ce Roy que il avoit tousjours eu en temps de paix et de guerre intelligence secrette à Madame, de laquelle ladite guerre durant il avoit eu des grants presens, qui furent cause que Suffolc estant à Montdidier, il ne le secourut d'argent comme il debvoit, dont avint que il ne prit Paris; mais ils en parlent en l'oreille de ce propos, afin que je n'en soy adverty. Quant auxdits presens, il espère que Madame ne le nuyra où il en sera parlé, de toutes aultres choses il s'en recommande en sa bonne grâce. La fantaisie de ces seigneurs est que luy mort ou ruiné, il deffèrent incontinent icy l'estat de l'Eglise, & prendront tous leurs biens, qu'il seroit ja besoing que je misse en chiffre, car ils le crient en plaine table; je croy qu'ils feront de beaux miracles, si m'a dict vostre grant prophète au visaige bronsé, que ce Roy ne vivre gueres plus que........ au quel, comme vous sçavez, à ce que je voy par ses escriptures, il n'a baillé terme que de la monstre de May. Je ne veulx oublier à vous dire que si le Roy & Madame veullent faire quelque chose pour le Légat, il faudroit se haster, encores ne seront jamais icy ses lettres que il n'ait perdu le sceau, toutefois il ne pense plus à cela, elles serviront pour le demourant, aussi venant icy mon successeur, comme chascun s'attend qu'il viendra dans peu des jours, ils luy donnassent charge d'en parler; le pis de son mal est que Mademoiselle de Boulen a faict promettre à son amy que il ne l'escoutera jamais parler; car elle pense bien qu'il ne le pourrait garder d'en avoir pitié.

Monseigneur, tout ce qui sera de bon en tout ce discours, vous le sçaurez prendre comme tel; s'il y aura riens qui semble party de trop d'affection, je vous supplie m'ayder à en excuser, & qu'il soit pris de bon part, car là où la matière seroit mauvaise si vous assureray-je bien que l'intention n'est telle, et la dessus est bien temps pour vous & pour moy que je facze fin à la présente, me recommande humblement en vostre bonne grâce, & pryant nostre Seigneur qu'il vous doint bonne vie & longue.

Vostre humble Serviteur,

J. DU BELLAY,

Evesque de Bayonne.

De Londres, le xvij d'Octobre. à Monsiegneur Monseigneur Le Grant Maistre & Marechal de France.

LETTER XX.

_Thomas Alward to Thomas Cromwell._ A. D. 1529.

[MS. COTTON. VITELLIUS B. XII. fol. 173. _Orig._]

"The following Letter (says Mr. Ellis), though mutilated, presents a genuine picture of one of the last interviews with which Wolsey was favoured by his Sovereign. It is dated on the 23^d. of September; sixteen days after which the King's attorney presented the indictment against him in the Court of King's Bench upon the Statute of Provisors.

"Thomas Alward, the writer of this Letter, appears to have been the Keeper of Wolsey's Wardrobe. He has been already incidentally named in the Letter which relates to the foundation of Ipswich College."

MAISTER CROMWEL,

In my mooste hartiest wise I [_commende me_] unto you; advertisyng the same that I have dely[_vered your lres_] unto my lordis grace who did immediatly rede over [_the same_] after the redyng wherof his grace did put theym in ... and so kepte theym always close to hym self. Th[_is I note_] unto you, bicause I never sawe hym do the like bifo[_re time_] the which your lettres his grace commaunded me.... And first, the same hertely thankyth you for your ... advertysement made unto hym from tyme to tyme [_of soche_] things as ye have written unto his grace wherin I know [_ye have_] don unto his grace singular pleasur and good service; and as [_for_] the vain bruts which goth against my lords [_grace_] I assur you as fer as may apper unto my said [_lord and_] other that be his servaunts, they be mervailous false, ... and gretely I do mervaile wherof the same shul[_de arise_] for I assur you that in this vacacion tyme [_dyvers_] lettres wer written by the kyngs commaundment from [_Mr. Ste_]vyns unto my said lord, by the which his adv[_ise_] and opinion was at sundry tymes desired ... in the kyngs causis and affaires, unto the which lettres [_aunswer_] was made from tyme to tyme, as well by my lords [_wry_]tyng as also by the sendyng of his servaunts to the[_courte with_] instructions by mouth to the kyng's highnes as the [_mater_] and case did requir. Over this the noblemen and gentry [_as well_] in my lords goyng to the courte as also in his retourne from [_the_] same dyd mete and incounter hym at many places gently [_and_] humaynly as they wer wonte to do. On Sonday last my lords grace, with the Legat Campegius cam unto the courte at Grene[_wiche_] wher they wer honorably receyved and accompanyed with sundry of the kings counsaile and servaunts, and so brought bifor masse onto the king's presence, who graciously and beni[~g]ly after the accustumed goodnes of his highnes, with very familiar and loving acountenance did welcome theym. And after communication and talkyng awhiles with my Lorde Campegius, his grace talked a grete while with my lorde a parte, which don, they departed all to geder in to chapel. And immediatly after dyner my lords grace went again unto the kyngs highnes beyng then in his pryvie chamber wher they wer commonyng and talkyng to geder at the leeste for the space of ij. houres, no person beyng present, and a friende of myne beyng of the prive chamber told me at my lords departur that tyme from thens ther was as good and as familiar accountynaunce shewed and used betwene theym as ever he sawe in his life heretofor. This don my lords grace with the legat retourned unto theyr logyng at Maister Empson's place. On Monday in the mornyng my lord leving the legat at his logyng went again unto the kyngs grace, and after long talkyng in his privie chamber to geder, the kyng, my lord, and all the hole counsaile sate to geder all that for'none aboute the kyngs matiers and affaires. In the after none, my lords grace having then with hym the Legat Campegius, went to the kyng's grace, and after talkyng and communication had a long whilis with the legat a parte they both toke ther leve of the kyngs highnes in as good fascion and maner, and with asmoche gentilnes, as ever I saw bifor. This don, the kyngs grace went huntyng. The legate retourned to Maister Empson, and my lords grace taried ther in counsaile til it was darke nyght. Further mor my Lord of Suffolke, my Lord of Rochford, Maister Tuke, and Master Stevyns did as gently [_be_]have theymselfs, with as moche observaunce and humy[_lyte to_] my lords grace as ever I sawe theym do at any [_tyme_] tofor. What they bere in ther harts I knowe n[_ot_.] Of the premissis I have seen with myne ies; wherfor I boldely presume and thinke that they be ferre [_furth_] overseen that sowth[243] the said false and untrewe reports: ascerteynyng you if ye coulde marke som[_e of the_] chief stirrers therof ye shulde do unto his grace [_moche_] pleasur. Assone as ye can spede your bysynes th[_ere my_] lord wolde be very glad of your retourne. My lord wilbe on Monday next at London. And the Legat [_Cam_]pegius shal departe shortely oute of Englonde. A[_nd thus_] makyng an ende I commit you to the tuicion and g[_widance of_] Almyghty God. From Saint Albons the xxiij^{th} S[_ep_]tember.

All the gentilmen of my lords chamber with the... ...[244] of commendith them hartely unto you.

Yowrs to my lytle [_power_] THOMAS ALVARD.

FOOTNOTES:

[202] Mrs. Anne Gainsford.

[203] See the Earl of Surrey's character of him, in an Elegy on his Death, among his poems.

[204] It is presumed that the allusion is here to Sir Thomas Wyatt's verses entitled "A description of such a one as he would love:"

A face that should content me wonderous well, Should not be faire, but lovely to behold: Of lively loke, all griefe for to repel With right good grace, so would I that it should Speak, without words, such words as none can tell; Her tresse also should be of cresped gold. With wit and these perchance I might be tide And knit againe the knot that should not slide.

_Songes and Sonettes_, 8_vo._ 1557, _p._ 35. 2.

[205] The King of France's sister.

[206] _Sanders De Origine ac Progressu Schismatis Anglicani. Libri_ 3. This book was first printed at Cologne, in 1585, and passed through several editions, the last in 1628. It was subsequently translated into French, and printed in 1673-4; which induced Burnet to write his History of the Reformation. In the appendix to his first volume he gives a particular account of Sanders' book, and refutes the calumnies and falsehoods contained in it. This called forth a reply from the catholic party, under the title of _Histoire du Divorce de Henry_ VIII. _par Joachim Le Grand_. _Paris_, 1688, 3 vols. 12mo. A work not without interest on account of the documents printed in the third volume, some of which I have found useful as illustrations of the present work.

[207] Sir Francis Brian was one of the most accomplished courtiers of his times: a man of great probity and a poet. Wyatt addresses his third satire to him, and pays a high compliment in it to his virtue and integrity. He was, like Wyatt, firmly attached to the Protestant cause: on this account he seems to have drawn on himself the hatred of the Roman Catholic party. Sanders, in his malevolent account of the Reformation in England, relates the following absurd and wicked story of him.--Cum autem Henrici Regis domus ex perditissimo hominum constaret, cujusmodi erant aleatores, adulteri, lenones, assentatores, perjuri, blasphemi, rapaces, atque adeò hæretici, inter hos insignis quidem nepos extitit, Franciscus Brianus, Eques Auratus, ex gente et stirpe Bolenorum. Ab illo rex quodam tempore quæsivit, quale peccatum videretur matrem primum, deinde filium cognoscere.--Cui Brianus, "Omnino," inquit, "tale O rex quale gallinam primùm, deinde pullum ejus gallinaceum comedere." Quod verbum cum rex magno risu accepisset, ad Brianum dixisse fertur. "Næ! tu merito meus est Inferni Vicarius." Brianus enim jam prius ob impietatem notissimam vocabatur, "Inferni Vacarius." Post autem et "Regius Inferni Vicarius." Rex igitur cum et matrem prius, et postea filiam Mariam Bolenam pro concubina tenuisset, demum at alteram quoque filiam, Annam Bolenam, animum adjicere cœpit. _De Schismate Anglicano_, p. 24.

This disgusting calumny is repeated by the followers of Sanders, and among others by Davanzati, in his _Schisma d'Inghilterra_, p. 22, Ed. 1727. And yet that history is presented by the Curators of the _Studio_ at Padua, to the youth educated there as "una stimabilissima Storia; descritta con quei vivi e forti colori che soli vagliano a far comprendere l'atrocita del successo dello Schisma d'Inghilterra." How (says Dr. Nott, from whom this note is taken) can the bonds of charity be ever brought to unite the members of the Roman Catholic communion with those of the reformed church, so long as their youth shall be thus early taught to consider our Reformation as the portentous offspring of whatever was most odious in human profligacy, and most fearful in blasphemy and irreligion?" _Memoirs of Sir Thomas Wyatt_, p. 84.

[208] 32 Henry VIII. A. D. 1540.

[209] A. D. 1532-3.

[210] Tyndal's Obedience of a Christian Man.

[211] This curious and interesting occurrence, which probably had considerable effect in furthering the progress of the Reformation, is told with more circumstance by Strype, from the manuscripts of Fox. It is so entirely corroborated by what is here said, that I think it incumbent upon me to place it in juxtaposition with Wyatt's narrative.

"Upon the Lady Anne waited a young fair gentlewoman, named Mrs. Gainsford; and in her service was also retained Mr. George Zouch. This gentleman, of a comely sweet person, a Zouch indeed, was a suitor in the way of marriage to the said young lady: and among other love tricks, once he plucked from her a book in Englishe, called Tyndall's Obedience, which the Lady Anne had lent her to read. About which time the Cardinal had given commandment to the prelates, and especially to Dr. Sampson, dean of the king's chapel, that they should have a vigilant eye over all people for such books, that they came not abroad; that so as much as might be, they might not come to the king's reading. But this which he most feared fell out upon this occasion. For Mr. Zouch (I use the words of the MS.) was so ravished with the spirit of God speaking now as well in the heart of the reader, as first it did in the heart of the maker of the book, that he was never well but when he was reading of that book. Mrs. Gainsford wept because she could not get the book from her wooer, and he was as ready to weep to deliver it. But see the providence of God:--Mr. Zouch standing in the chapel before Dr. Sampson, ever reading upon this book; and the dean never having his eye off the book, in the gentleman's hand, called him to him, and then snatched the book out of his hand, asked his name, and whose man he was. And the book he delivered to the cardinal. In the meantime, the Lady Anne asketh her woman for the book. She on her knees told all the circumstances. The Lady Anne showed herself not sorry nor angry with either of the two. But, said she, 'Well, it shall be the dearest book that ever the dean or cardinal took away.' The noblewoman goes to the king, and upon her knees she desireth the king's help for her book. Upon the king's token the book was restored. And now bringing the book to him, she besought his grace most tenderly to read it. The king did so, and delighted in the book. "For (saith he) this book is for me and all kings to read." And in a little time, by the help of this virtuous lady, by the means aforesaid, had his eyes opened to the truth, to advance God's religion and glory, to abhor the pope's doctrine, his lies, his pomp, and pride, to deliver his subjects out of the Egyptian darkness, the Babylonian bonds that the pope had brought his subjects under. And so contemning the threats of all the world, the power of princes, rebellions of his subjects at home, and the raging of so many and mighty potentates abroad; set forward a reformation in religion, beginning with the triple crowned head at first, and so came down to the members, bishops, abbots, priors, and such like."--_Strype's Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. i. p. 112.

[212] Mr. George Zouch.

[213] So it is in the Calendars prefixed to the Book of Common Prayer in Queen Elizabeth's reign. Lord Herbert says it was the sixth, Sanders the eighth, and Archbishop Cranmer the thirteenth or fourteenth.

[214] A. D. 1534.

[215] Shaxton and Latimer.

[216] To every one of these she gave a little book of devotions, neatly written on vellum, and bound in covers of solid gold enamelled, with a ring to each cover to hang it at their girdles for their constant use and meditation.

One of these little volumes, traditionally said to have been given by the queen when on the scaffold to her attendant, one of the Wyatt family, and preserved by them through several generations, was described by Vertue as being seen by him in the possession of Mr. George Wyatt of Charterhouse Square, in 1721. Vide _Walpole's Miscellaneous Antiquities_, printed at Strawberry Hill, 1772, No. II. p. 13. It was a diminutive volume, consisting of one hundred and four leaves of vellum, one and seven-eighths of an inch long by one and five-eighths of an inch broad; containing a metrical version of parts of thirteen Psalms: and bound in pure gold richly chased, with a ring to append it to the neck-chain or girdle. It was in Mr. Triphook's possession in the year 1817.

[217] Cosȳ: this woman's name was Cousyns.

[218] Probably the name of one of her attendants.

[219] unless.

[220] that.

[221] Sir Francis Weston.

[222] they.

[223] note.

[224] accepts.

[225] that.

[226] _i. e._ what.

[227] us.

[228] Anvers, Antwerp.

[229] number.

[230] an hour.

[231] number.

[232] That is his long continuance with the cardinal.

[233] He had probably disobliged the king by his attachment to Anne Boleyn.

[234] fear.

[235] Carlisle.

[236] William Worm, whom he mentions in a former letter, as the person who betrayed him.

[237] brought.

[238] out.

[239] Antiphonars, Gralls, Orderlys, Manuals, and Professionaries, are books containing different portions of the Roman Catholic Ritual. See Percy's Northumberland Household Book, p. 446, and Burn's Ecclesiastical Law.

[240] _licence._ There is a tradition at Alnwick that an auditor was formerly confined in the dungeon under one of the towers till he could make up his accounts to his lord's satisfaction.

[241] Dr. Augustine, or Agostino, a native of Venice, was physician to the cardinal, and was arrested at Cawood at the same time with his master, being treated with the utmost indignity: v. _Life_, pp. 348, 351. In the Cottonian MS. Titus b. i. fol. 365, there is a letter of his to Thomas Cromwell, in Italian, requiring speedy medical assistance, apparently for Cardinal Wolsey. It is dated Asher, Jan. 19th, 1529-30. Cavendish describes him as being dressed in a "boistous gown of black velvet;" with which he overthrew one of the silver crosses, which broke Bonner's head in its fall.

[242] Premunire.

[243] soweth.

[244] _f._ rest thereof.

A TRUE DESCRIPTION,

OR RATHER

A PARALLEL

BETWEENE

CARDINALL WOLSEY,

ARCH-BISHOP OF YORK,

AND

WILLIAM LAUD,

ARCH-BISHOP OF CANTERBVRIE, &c.

PRINTED IN THE YERE 1641.

_The following parallel between Laud and Wolsey is referred to in a note at p. 342 of the Life of Wolsey. It was printed at the same time and for the same purpose as the first garbled edition of that life; namely--to prejudice Archbishop Laud in the minds of the people. The press then teemed with pamphlets levelled at him, and in the same volume I find two others: "The Character of an untrue Bishop, with a Recipe to recover a Bishop if he were lost." And--"England's Rejoycing at the Prelates Downfall, written by an Ill-willer to the Romish Brood:" both of the same date._

A TRUE DESCRIPTION,

OR RATHER

A PARALLEL

BETWENE

CARDINAL WOLSEY AND ARCH-BISHOP LAUD.

There be two primates, or arch-bishops throughout England and Wales, Canterburie and Yorke, both metropolitans, York of England, Canterburie of all England, for so their titles runne. To the primate of Canterburie bee subordinate thirteene bishops in England, and foure in Wales. But the primate of Yorke hath at this time but two suffragans in England: namely, the Bishops of Carliele, and Durham: though hee had in King Lucius dayes, (who was the first Christian king of this our nation) all the prelacy of Scotland within his jurisdiction: Canterburie commanding all from this side the River Trent to the furthest limits of Wales; and York commanding all from beyond the Trent to the utmost bounds of Scotland, and hitherto, their prime archiepiscopall prerogatives may (not unproperly) be paralleld.

In the time of Henrie the first were potent two famous prelates, Anselme of Canterburie, who durst contest against the king, and Girald of Yorke, who denyed to give place or any precedence at all to Anselme. Thomas Becket, who was first chancellour, and after Arch-bishop of Canterburie, in the reigne of Henrie the Second, bore himselfe so insolently against the king his soveraigne, that it cost him his life, being slaine in the church as he was going to the altar. But above all, the pride, tyrannie, and oppression of the Bishop of Ely, in the reigne of Richard the First, wants example, who was at once Chancellour of England, and Regent of the land, and held in his hand at once the two Arch-bishopricks of York and Canterburie, who never rid abroad without a thousand horse for his guard to attend him, whom we may well parallel with the now great Cardinall of France: and need hee had of such a traine to keep himselfe from being pulled to peeces by the oppressed prelates, and people, equally extorting from the clergie and laietie; yet he in the end, disguising himselfe in the shape of an old woman, thinking to passe the sea at Dover, where hee awayted on the Strand, a pinace being hired for that purpose, he was discovered by a sayler, and brought backe to abide a most severe sentence. Stephen Lancthon, Archbishop of Canterburie, in the time King Iohn, would not absolve the land, being for sixe yeares together indicted by the pope, till the king had payd unto him and the rest of the bishops, eighteene thousand markes in gold; and thus I could continue the pride of the prelacie, and their great tyrannie through all the kings reignes: But I now fall upon the promist parallel betwixt Thomas Wolsey, Arch-bishop of York, and Cardinall, and William Laud, Doctor in Divinitie, and Arch-bishop of Canterburie.

They were both the sonnes of meane and mechanick men, Wolsey of a butcher, Laud of a cloth worker. The one borne in Ipswich (threescore miles), the other in Reading, thirtie miles distant from the City of London, both of them verie toward, forward, and pregnant grammar schollars, and of singular apprehensions, as suddenly rising to the first forme in the schoole. From thence, being yong, they were removed to the Vniversitie of Oxford, Wolsey admitted into Maudlin Coledge, Laud into St. Iohns; and as they were of different times, so they were of different statures; yet either of them well shapt according to their proportions; Wolsey was of a competent tallnesse, Laud of a lesse size, but might be called a prettie man, as the other a proper man: both of ingenious and acute aspects, as may appeare by this mans face, the others picture. In their particular colledges they were alike proficients, both as active of body as braine, serious at their private studies, and equally frequent in the schooles, eloquent orators, either to write, speake, or dictate, daintie disputants, well verst in philosophy, both morall, physicall, and metaphysical, as also in the mathematicks, and neither of them strangers to the muses, both taking their degrees according to their time; and through the whole academie, Sir Wolsey was called the boy-batchelour, and Sir Laud the little batchelour.

The maine study that either of them fixt upon was theology: for though they were conversant in all the other arts and sciences, yet that they solely profest, and by that came their future preferment; Wolsey being Batchelour was made schoole-master of Maudlin Schoole in Oxford: but Laud came in time to be master of St. Iohns Colledge in Oxford, therein transcending the other, as also in his degrees of Master of Art, Batchelour of Divinitie, and Doctor of Divinitie, when the other being suddenly cald from the rectorship of his schoole, to be resident upon a countrie benefice, he took no more academicall degrees, than the first of Batchelour, and taking a strange affront by one Sir Amias Paulet, a knight in the countrie, who set him in the stocks, he indured likewise divers other disasters: but that disgrace he made the knight pay dearely for, after he came to be invested in his dignitie. Briefely, they came both to stand in the princes eye; but ere I proceed any further, let me give the courteous reader this modest caveat, that he is to expect from me onely a parallell of their acts and fortune, but no legend of their lives; it therefore briefely thus followeth.

Both these from academicks comming to turne courtiers; Wolsey, by his diligent waiting, came to insinuate himselfe into the brests of the privie counsellours. His first emploiment was in an embassie to the emperour, which was done by such fortunate, and almost incredible expedition, that by that only he grew into first grace with King Henry the Seventh, father to King Henry the Eighth. Laud, by the mediation and meanes wrought by friends, grew first into favour with King Iames of sacred memory, father to our now royall soveraigne King Charles. They were both at first the kings chaplaines, Wolseyes first preferment was to bee Deane of Lincolne, of which hee was after bishop. Lauds first ecclesiasticall dignity was to be Deane of Saint Davids, of which he was after bishop also. And both these prelaticall courtiers came also to be privie counsellours. Woolsey in the beginning of Henry the Eighth's raigne, was made Bishop of Tourney in France, soone after Bishop of Lincoln, and before his full consecration (by the death of the incumbent) was ended, translated to the Arch-bishoprick of York, and all this within the compasse of a yeare; Laud, though not so suddainly, yet very speedily was from St. Davids removed to London, and from London to Canterburie, and this in the beginning of the reigne of King Charles. Thus you see they were both arch-bishops, and as Laud was never cardinall, so Woolsey was never Canterburie.

But in some things the cardinall much exceeded Canterburie, as in holding all these bishopricks at once, when the other was never possest but of one at one time. The cardinall also held the bishoprick of Winchester, of Worcester, Bath and Wells, with a fourth, and two abbat-ships in commendam: He had besides an hat sent him from Rome, and made himselfe cardinall, (that being before but Yorke) he might over-top Canterburie. But our William, howsoever he might have the will, yet never attained to that power, and howsoever hee could not compasse a hat from Rome, yet made the meanes to have a consecrated miter sent from Rome; which was so narrowly watcht, that it came not to his wearing. Moreover, the cardinall extorted the chancellourship from Canterburie; but we finde not that Canterburie ever either trencht upon the jurisdiction, or tooke any thing away from the arch-bishoprick of York.

Woolsey likewise farre out-went him in his numerous traine, and the noblenesse thereof, being waited on not onely by the prime gentrie, but even of earles, and earles sonnes, who were listed in his family, and attended him at his table, as also in his hospitalitie, his open house being made free for all commers, with the rare and extraordinarie state of his palace, in which there were daily uprising and downe-lying a thousand persons, who were his domestick servants. Moreover in his many entertainments of the K. with masks, and mightie sumptuous banquets, his sumptuous buildings, the prince-like state he carried in his forraigne embassages, into France, to the emperor, &c. in which he spent more coyne in the service of his king, for the honour of his countrie, and to uphold the credit of his cardinals cap, than would (for the time) have paid an armie royal. But I answer in behalfe of our Canterburie, that hee had never that meanes or imployment, by which hee might make so vain-glorious a show of his pontificalitie, or archiepiscopall dignitie: For unbounded mindes may bee restrained within narrow limmits, and therefore the parallel may something hold in this too.

They were also in their judiciall courts equally tyrannous; the one in the chancerie, the other in the high commission: both of them at the councell boord, and in the starre-chamber alike draconically supercilious. Blood drawne from Doctor Bonners head by the fall of his crosse presaged the cardinals downfall. Blood drawne from the eares of Burton, Prin, and Bastwick, was a prediction of Canterburies ruine; the first accidentall, the last premeditate and of purpose[245]. The cardinall would have expelled all the Lutherans and Protestants out of the realme, this our Canterburie would have exil'd both our Dutch and French church out of the kingdome. The cardinall took maine delight in his foole Patch, and Canterburie tooke much delight in his

## partie-coloured cats. The cardinall used for his agents Bonner and

others, Canterburie for his ministers, Duck, Lamb, and others. They both favoured the Sea of Rome, and respected his holinesse in it. The cardinall did professe it publickly, the arch-bishop did reverence it privately. The cardinalls ambition was to bee pope, the arch-bishop strove to bee patriarch, they both bid fairely for it, yet lost their aime; and farre easier it is for men to descend than to ascend.

The cardinall (as I have said) was very ambitious; the arch-bishop was likewise of the same minde, though better moulded, and of a more politick braine, having a close and more reserved judgement in all his observations, and more fluent in his deliverie. The cardinall was verie curious in his attire and ornament of his body, and took great delight in his traine, and other his servants for their rich aparrell; the arch-bishop his attire was neat and rich, but not so gaudie as the cardinals was, yet tooke as much felicitie in his gentlemens rich aparrell, especially those that waited on his person, as ever the cardinall did, though other men paid for them: and if all men had their owne, and every bird her feather, some of them would bee as bare as those that professe themselves to bee of the sect of the Adamists: To speake truth, the arch-bishops men were all given to covetousnesse and wantonnesse; that I never heard of was in the cardinals men.

As the cardinall was sumptuous in his buildings, as that of White Hall, Hampton Court, &c. as also in laying the foundation of two famous coledges, the one at Ipswich, where he was borne, the other at Oxford, where he had his breeding: so Christ-Church, which he left unfinished, Canterburie hath since repaired; and wherein he hath come short of him in building, though he hath bestowed much on St. Iohns Coledge, yet he hath out-gone him in his bountie of brave voluminous books, being fourescore in number, late sent to the Bodleian or Universitie Librarie: Further, as the cardinall was Chancelour of England, so Canterburie was Chancellour of Oxford: And as the cardinall by plucking downe of some small abbies, to prepare stone for his greater structures, opened a gap for the king, by which he tooke the advantage utterly to raze and demolish the rest: so Canterburie by giving way for one bishop to have a temporall triall; and to be convicted, not by the clergie, but the laitie, so he left the same path open both for himselfe and the rest of the episcopacie: of which, there before scarce remained a president.

I have paralleld them in their dignities: I will conclude with a word or two concerning their downefalls. The cardinall fell into the displeasure of his king, Canterburie into an extreame hatred of the commons: both were arrested of high treason, the cardinall by processe, Canterburie by parliament. The cardinall at Keywood Castle neare Yorke, Canterburie at Westminster neare London; both their falls were speedy and suddaine: The cardinall sate as this day in the high court of chancerie, and within two dayes after was confined to his house; Canterburie as this day sate at the counsell boord, and in the upper house of parliament, and the same day committed to the blacke rod, and from thence to the Tower: The cardinall dyed at Leicester some say of a flux; Canterburie remaines still in the Tower, onely sick of a fever. _Vanitas vanitatum, omnia vanitas._

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[245] This mention of omens reminds me that Dr. Wordsworth in his notes to Wolsey's Life has related the following affecting anecdote of Archbishop Laud.

"The year 1639 we all know was big with events calamitous to Laud, and to the church and monarchy. In Lambeth Library is preserved a small pane of glass, in which are written with a diamond pencil the following words:

Memorand: Ecclesiæ de Micham, Cheme et Stone, cum aliis fulguro combusta sunt Januar: 14, 1638/9. Omen evertat Deus.

On a piece of paper the same size as the glass and kept in the same case with it, is written by the hand of Abp. Wake, as follows: "This glasse was taken out of the west-window of the gallery at Croydon before I new-built it: and is, as I take it, the writing of Abp. Laud's own hand."

_The Will of Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal Wolsey's father; E Libro Testamentorum in Registro principali Dni. Epi. Norwic. Multon inscripto, fo. 146. a._

In Dei Nomine, amen. The xxxi day of the Moneth of September the yer of our Lord God a m. cccclxxxxvi. I Robert Wulcy of Ipyswiche hool of mend and in good memory beyng, make my testament and my last wyll in this maid wyse. Fyrst, I bequeth my soull to Almyghty God, our Lady Sent Mary, and to all the company of hevyn, and my body to be buryed in the churche yard of our Lady Sent Mary of Neum^rket. Also I beq. to the hey aut^r of the pariche of Sent Nicholas of Ippyswiche vi^{_s._} vij^{_d._} Also I beq. to the pentyng of the archangell ther, xl^{_s._} Itm. I wyll that if Thomas my son be a prest, w^tin a yer next after my decesse, than I wyll that he syng for me and my frends, be the space of a yer, and he for to have for his salary x marc, and if the seyd Thomas my son be not a prest than I wyll that a nother honest prest syng for me and my frends the term aforeseyd and he to have the salary of x marc. Itm. I wyll that Johan my wyf have all my lands and ten^{ts}. in the pariche of Sent Nicholas in Ippiswich aforesaid, and my free and bond londs in the piche of S^t Stoke to geve and to sell the residew of all my goods afor not bequethed, I geve and bequethe to the good disposition of Johan my wyff, Thomas my soon, and Thomas Cady, whom I order and make my executors to dispose for me as thei shall think best to ples allmyghty God and p^{ro}fyt for my soull; and of this my testiment and last wyll I orden and make Richard Farrington sup^rvisour, and he for to have for his labour xiij^{_s._} iiij^{_d._} and yf the seid Richard deserve more he for to have more of Johan my wyff. Itm. I beq. to the seyd Thomas Cady my executor aforeseyd xiij^{_s._} iiij^{_d._} Yevyn the day yer and place above wretyn.

* * * * *

_Probatum fuit presens Testamentum apud Gipwic. coram nobis Offic. Cans. Dm. Epi Norwic._ xj _die mensis Octobris Anno Dm. Millimo_ cccc^{mo} lxxxxvi. _In cujus rei testimonium Sigillum, &c._

_Fisher, Bishop of Rochester._

Bishop Fisher's opposition to Henry's divorce, as noticed by Cavendish at p. 222, subsequently cost him his head. Besides his letter to Wolsey maintaining the validity of the marriage with Catherine, published by Fiddes in his Appendix to the Life of Wolsey, and in Collier's Ecclesiastical History, vol. 2 Records, he wrote a larger discourse in Latin, "De Causa Matrimonii Regis Angliæ," which was long thought to exist only in MS. But in a late sale by public auction in London, of Don Jos Antonio Conde's Library, a printed copy was purchased for Mr. Heber, which appears to have issued from the press at Alcala (Complutum) in Spain. The printer of which says the manuscript copy was given him by the Arch-bishop of Toledo. It is probable that the Spanish agents in England contrived to obtain a copy and sent it to the emperor. It would not have been allowed to issue from the press in England. It is remarkable that Ribadineira in his Historia Ecclesiastica de Inglaterra, Madrid, 1588, p. 59. _rev._ mentions that Fisher presented his book to the legates. "Los que por parte de la Reyna tratavan este negocio eran los mas graves y doctos Teologos y Perlados de todo el Reyno y entre ellos Gulielmo Varamo Arçopispo Cantuariense y Primado de Inglaterra, y otros cinco Obispos de grande autoridad. Pero el que mas se mostrava era Juan Fischero Obispo Roffense, varon por cierto exemplar, y no solamente lumbrera del reyno de Inglaterra, sino de toda la christiandad, espejo de santidad, sal del pueblo, y verdadero Doctor de la Yglesia. El qual salio en publico, _y presentò a los Legados_ UN LIBRO _doctissimo que avia escrito_ EN DEFENSION DEL MATRIMONIO _del Rey y de la Reyna_, y amonestoles con razonamiento gravissimo que no buscassen dificultades donde no las avia, ni permitiessen que se pervirtiesse la verdad clara y manifiesta de la sagrada Escritura, y se debilitasse la fuerça de las leyes ecclesiasticas que en esta causa eran evidentes, y estavan tan bien entendidas. Que pensassen y considerassen atentamente los da[=n]os innumerables que deste divorcio se podian seguir: el odio entre el Rey Enrique y Carlos Emperador: las parcialidades de los principes que los seguirian: las guerras crueles de fuera y dentro del reyno: y lo que mas importava, las dissensiones en materia de la Fè, sçismas, heregias, y sectas infinitas. Yo dize por aver estudiado esta materia, y gastado en ella mucho tiempo y trabajo, oso afirmar que no ay en la tierra potestad que pueda deshazer este matrimonio, ni desatar lo que Dios atò. Y esto que digo no solamente _lo pruevo claramente_ EN ESTE LIBRO, con los testimonias irrefragable de la sagrada Escritura, y de los santos Doctores, pero tambien estoy aparejado a defenderlo con el derramamiento de mi sangre: dixolo Roffense, y como lo dixo, assi cumplio. Aviendo hablado de esta manera aquel varon illustre por la fama de su doctrina, excellente por la santidad de la vida, admirable por la dignidad de Perlado, y por sus canas venerable." Ribadineira says that four _other_ Doctors, and three Bishops, also offered other books which they had composed in defence of the validity of the Queen's marriage: the proof of this assertion is yet to seek.

A manuscript copy of Fisher's book is said to be among those presented by the Duke of Norfolk to the Royal Society. We may hope to have all that relates to this venerable prelate in a more tangible form when the Rev. John Lewis's Life of him shall be given to the world. I have the satisfaction to add that it has been some time at press, under the editorial care of the Rev. Theodore Williams of Hendon, and cannot fail to prove a valuable addition to Ecclesiastical Biography.

_The Instrument of the Kings gift to the Cardinal after his forfeiture by the premunire, which so much revived his hopes, is printed by Rymer and by Fiddes. The following is the Schedule appended to it. V. Life, 291._

The Money, Goods, and Cattells, given by the King's Grace to the Lorde Cardinall, whereof mention is made in the King's Lettres Patentes hereunto annexed.

Fyrste in Redy Money, MMM _li._

Item, in Plate, Nyne Thowsand Fyve Hundred Thre-score Fyve oz. dim. quarter, at iij^_s_ viij^_d_ the oz. amounteth to MDCCLII _li._ iij^_s_ viii^_d_.

Item, Dyvers Apparell of Houshold, as Hangyngs, Beddyng, Napry, and other thyngs, as appereth by the Inventorie of the same--amountyng in Value by Estimation, DCCC _li._

Item, In Horses and Geldyngs lxxx with their Apparel, valued by Estimation, CL _li._

Item, in Mules for the Saddell vi. with their Apparell, valued by Estimation, LX _li._

Item, in Mules for Carriage vi with their Apparell, valued by Estimation, XL _li._

Item, in Lyng on thowsand valued by Estimation, XL _li._

Item, in Cod and Haberden viij c valued by Estimation, XL _li._

Item, in Salt viii Waye valued by Estimation, X _l._

Item, in Implements of the Kytchen as Potts, Pannes, Spitts, Peawter Vessell, and other things necessarie for the same, valued by Estimation, LXXX _l._

Item, LII. Oxen valued by Estimation, LXXX _l._

Item, in Muttons LXX valued by Estimation XII _l._

Item, the Apparell of his Body, valued by Estimation, CCC _l._

Summa, vi M. ccc. lxxiv. _l._ iij^_s._ vii^_d._ ob.

_A Memoryall of suche Communication as my Lorde Legatts grace had with the Quenes Almoner._

[EX. MS. INTER ARCHIVA ACADEMIA CANTABRIG.]

This interesting paper is published in Fiddes, from the communication of the learned and Reverend Mr. Baker. It is so necessary a supplement to the very interesting interview of the two Cardinals with Katherine, given by Cavendish, that I could not resolve to withhold it from the reader, who may not chance to have ready access to Dr. Fiddes' ponderous volume.

Fyrst my lordes grace taking for introduction & commencement of his graces purposes & devyses, excogitate by the same for the totall extermination of suche heresies as daily encreased in Cambrydge: & that his grace thought more convenyent the same to be done by the commyssaries then the Bysshops of Rochester or Elie, shewed his pleasure & determination was to send him thyther, as well for that he was of good reputation & credytt there, beinge a M'^r of a colledge in the same, as also for that he had in tymes passed used hym in lyke busyness. To which the said M^r Almoner, fyrst excusing the remission of his wonte and bounde offyce & dewtie in vysitinge his grace, & most humblie beseching the same not to impute yt as proceding of any alienation of his trewe hart & devotion he bare unto the same, answered, that he woold most gladly taike upon him the said province & jorney; desyringe nevertheles his grace that he might defer the same untyll 20 dayes were past & expired, in which space he might well performe his residence at Wyndesore. Unto which petycyon his grace condescendyng, & takynge the same as a full resolution in that behalfe, pretendinge also to have had noon other cause or matter unto him, fynished that communicacion, and sodenly asked hym what tydyngs he had hard of late in the courte?--

To this he answered, that he hard noon, but that yt was much bruted that a Legatt shuld come hyther into England.--Whereuppon his grace inferred what the quene thought of his comynge, and for what purpose he should come?----To this he said, that she was fully perswaded & believed that his comynge was only for the decision of the cause of matrimonie dependinge betweene her & the kinges highnes.

Hereupon my lordes grace taking just occasion further to entre in this mater, & fyrste makyng rehersall of sondrie excellent benefitts with which his grace had indewed hym, to thend he shuld doo the kings highnes trewe & faithfull service, & sithe adjuring him upon his fidelitie, his othe, & _sub sigillo confessionis_, and suche other obtestations, to conceale & kepe secrete whatsoever his grace shuld then communicate unto hym, and never to propale the same to any man lyvyng, oonles he had expresse commandement by the kyngs highnes or his grace so to doo, desyred hym that he wold faithfully entierly & hooly declare unto his grace all & singuler soche thinges as he knewe of the quenes dysposicion, minde, sayings, purpose & intent in this mattier.

To this the said M^r Almoner fyrst alleging & declaring of how singuler and perfytt devocyon he was towards the kyngs hyghnes and my lords grace, & that he wold not oonly be moost redy to execute his commandements, but also to kepe secrete suche things as his grace shuld wyll him so to doo: answered, that he hard the quene oft saie that yf in this cause she myght attaine & injoye her naturall defence & justice, she distrusted nothing butt yt should taike suche effecte as shuld be acceptable both to God & man. And that for theese causes:--

Fyrst for that it was in the ieies of God moost plaine & evydent that she was never knowen of Prince Arthure. Secondly, for that neyther of the judges were competent, being bothe the kings subjects, beneficed within his realme, & delegate from the pope at the contemplation of the king, she being never hard, ne admytted to her defence. Thirdly, for that she ne had ne myght have within this realme any indifferent counsaile. Fynally, for that she had in Spaine two bulles, the oone beinge latter daite than the other, but bothe of suche effycacie & strengthe, as shulde sone remove all objections & cavyllations to be maide to thinfringing of this matrymonie.

To this my lord's grace replying said, he marvelled not a lyttle of her so undyscrete ungodly purposes & sayings, which caused him to conceyve that she was neyther of suche perfection, ne vertue as he had thought in tymes past to have been in her: & so entering in refutation of all the premisses said:--

Fyrst, where she saithe that she was not knowen of Prince Arthure, verely it is a weake & much unsure grownde for her to leane unto, being so urgent & vehement presumptions _non solum Juris, sed etiam de Jure_ to the contrarie, which and of congreuence ought to wey more in every equall judges brest then her symple allegation. For it cannot be denied but that bothe he & she was then of suche yers as was mete and hable to explete that act. It is also verey notarie, that thei dyd lye together, bothe here & in Waylles, by the space of three quarters of a yere. Furthermore, nothing was so muche desyred of bothe there parentes as the consummation of the said act: Insomuche that the counsailers of Ferdinando being resident here for that purposse dyd send the sheets thei ley in, spotted with bloude, into Spaine, in full testimonye & prouf therof. The counsaillers also of bothe parties moste solemnelye sworne affearme in there treaties & saien that the matrymonie was consummate by that act. Forthermore the comen voyce through England is, that the said Prince Arthure shuld oftymes boost oon mornyng how ofte he had been the nyght before in the myddes of Spaine: Insomuche that commonlye his so primature deathe was imputed onely to _nimio coitu_.

Fynally, King Henry VIIth of blessed memorie, wold not by certaine space after the deathe of the saide prince, permytte or suffer that the kings highnes shuld injoye the name & tytle of Prince, onely for that it was dowbted by such as than was most abowte the quene whether she was conceaved wyth chylde or noo. And therefore these presumptions beinge of suche sorte & nature, my lords grace said, the quene shuld do lyke neyther wyse ne vartuouse lady to adhere partinacely to the contrarie.

To the seconde his grace replied, saying that if she shuld refuse and decline the judgment of those parsons unto whome the pope's holiness had delegated the examination of this cause, she shuld not do well, butt so doing rather incurr the indignacyon of the see apostolique, deserve the obloque & hatred of all good chossin people & ingenerate in there hartes a perpetuall hate & enmitie against her. For sythe the popes holines proceadythe in thys commyssyon at the intercession or motion of no partie, but onely _ex mero motu pastorali officio_, & sith that his holines notwithstanding he being notoriously certyfied that they be the kings subjects, & benefyced within his realme hathe approved there parsons as moost mete and worthie to have the hole decision of this cawse commytted unto them: with that also theire parsons be qualyfyed with so hyghe preemynence & dignitie, as by the common lawe cannot be refused as suspect. Fynallie sythe the same parsons being straitly commanded by the king's hyghnes, all affection of mede or drede set apart, onely to attend, waye, regard & consyder the justyce of the cawse as they shall therunto answere on perell of there owne sowles & his dreadfull indignacion, have no cawse which thei shuld varye or deflect their sentence otherwyse than justyce shall require, specially in a cawse of suche wayght & importance, & wherin they for unrighteouse judgement shuld acquire nothing els but theire owne dampnation, eternall ignominie & indignation of theire prince: yf she shuld refuse suche parsons as suspect, it might well be saide that she geveth tytles honour to the auctoritie of the churche, & that this realme were marvelouslie destytute of men of sincere learnyng & conscience, to the great slaunder of the same.

And fynally his grace said, that yf this exception shuld be admytted as suffycyent cawse of recusation, for that they be benefyced by the kings hyghnes, than this cawse of matrymonie myght nowhere be ventylated or dyscussed within Christindone, for that there are no parsons of auctorite & lernyng in any regyon out of this realme, againe whome the king's highnes might not alleadge, in lyke manner, lyke cawse of recusation & suspicion. The pope's holines & the holle clargie of Ytallie, Flaunders, Spaine, Denmarke & Scotlande, being now eyther confederate or in thraldome & captivitie of the emperor's tyranny.

To the third, concerning counsaillors to be retained on her behalf, my lords grace saide, that although he was ryght well assured of the kings singuler propencyon & inclination to justyce, & that above all things his pleasour was justyce shuld be equally mynistred to eyther parte in this cawse, being also never wylling or in mynde at any tyme, but that she shuld have aide and assistance of so well lerned men, so wyse, and of so good conscience, as might any be founde within this realme: yet his grace thought that consydering the nature of this cawse to be of suche sorte, as necessarily impliethe the hole tytle of succession of this realme, lyke as yt were not expedyent, ne myght in any wyse be suffred withowt great dangier & perell which might therby ensue, to maike any aliene or straunger previe herunto, specially the Spaniards having now intelligence with the King of Scotts; So his grace thought that the quene wold not insyst in so fryvolous petition, which might never be graunted unto her, but be content to admytt and adhybyt suche lerned men as be here in this region her counsaillors, namely suche as by theire othes solempnly maide & vowed, & by expresse commandement _et optima gratia_ of the king's highnes, shuld withowt frawde or corruption shew unto her theire sentence and openions: and desyring the contrarie hereof his grace said she shuld doe nothing but declare her owne sensuall affection to sett forthe that whiche, all due prouf, bothe by Gods lawe & mans law hath justly condemned. And thus ended my lords graces talke with M^r Almoner.

⁂ Robert Shorton S. T. P. then master of Pembroke Hall and canon of Windsor was almoner to the queen, preferr'd by her to the deanery of Stoke Suffolk, the same that was internuncius cardinali de evocandis viris doctis Cantabrigia Oxoniam, and sometime dean of the cardinal's chapel.

_Itinerary of Cardinal Wolseys last Journey Northward, 1530._

He set out from Richmond at the beginning of Passion Week, but we know not on what precise day. The first days journey was to Hendon in Middlesex, where he lodged for the night at the house of the abbot of Westminster.

The next day he removed to a place called the Rye, the abode of the Lady Parry.

The third day to Royston, where he lodged in the monastery.

The fourth day to Huntingdon, where he sojourned for the night in the abbey.

On Palm Sunday he reached the Abbey of Peterborough, which he made his abode until the Thursday in Easter week, his train for the most part being at board wages in the town. Here he celebrated Palm Sunday, going with the monks in procession, and bearing his palm with great humility. He kept his Maunday on the Thursday so named, with the accustomed ceremonies and bounties to the poor. On Easter Sunday he also went in procession in his cardinal's habit, and performed the service of high mass very devoutly.

From Peterborough he went to visit his old friend Sir William Fitzwilliams, about four miles from thence, who received him with great joy and hospitality. He went there on Thursday in Easter week and remained until the Monday following, on which day he went to Stamford and lay there that night.

On Tuesday he went to Grantham, where he lodged in the house of a gentleman named Hall.

On Wednesday he removed to Newark, where he rested in the castle.

On Thursday to Southwell, where was a palace belonging to his see of York, but this being out of repair he was lodged in the house of one of the prebends. At Whitsuntide he removed into the palace, keeping a noble table, where he was visited by the chief persons of the country.

At the latter end of _grease time_ he removed to Scroby, another house belonging to his see of York, being as much regretted at Southwell as he was greeted at Scroby. In his way to Scroby he took Welbeck or Newsted Abbey, from thence to Rufford Abbey to dinner, and slept at Blythe Abbey, reaching Scroby on the following day, where he remained until Michaelmas.

About Michaelmas day he removed to his seat of Cawood Castle, twelve miles (said by Cavendish to be only seven) from York, and in his way thither he lay two nights and a day at St. Oswald's Abbey, where he held a confirmation. He lay at Cawood long after, says Cavendish, with much honour.

His clergy here waited upon him to take order for his inthronization, which he seems to have desired should be conducted with as little pomp as possible. The ceremony was fixed to take place on the Monday after All Hallown Tide, but he was arrested on the Friday before (fourth of November) at Cawood, by the Earl of Northumberland and Mr. Welsh.

They left Cawood with him in custody on Sunday the sixth. The first night he was lodged in the Abbey of Pomfret.

The next day [7^{th}] they removed to Doncaster.

The third day [8^{th}] to Sheffield Park, a seat of the Earl of Shrewsbury (afterwards appointed by Queen Elizabeth for the meeting of her and Mary Queen of Scots, which never took place), where he continued eighteen days, being there seized with the flux. Here Sir William Kingston the Constable of the Tower came to take charge of his person, and on Thursday the twenty-fourth of November they set forward, the cardinal hardly able to sit upright on his mule. They passed the night at Hardwicke upon Line in Nottinghamshire. (_See note on the Life_, p. 379.)

On Friday the twenty-fifth they rode to Nottingham, and lodged there that night.

On Saturday the twenty-sixth at night, they reached Leicester Abbey; he had many times like to have fallen from his mule by the way; telling the abbot as he entered he had come to lay his bones among them. He gradually became worse, and died at eight o'clock in the morning of Tuesday November the twenty-ninth.

_Beside the solemn mass performed by Cardinal Wolsey upon the ratification of peace between the French and English kings, which is described at p. 190 of the Life, he officiated at another great ceremony of thanksgiving upon occasion of the Pope's deliverance from captivity. The particulars of which are preserved in the archives of the Herald's College in an ancient book written by Thomas Walle, Windsor Herald, and published by Dr. Fiddes at p. 179 of his Collections. For the convenience of the reader who may not possess Dr. Fiddes's Life of Wolsey, I have thought it desirable to place this curious relation in my Appendix._

_The Comming and Reseyving of the Lord Cardinall into Powles for the Escaping of Pope Clement_ VII. A. D. 1527. A^o Regni Henrici VIII. XIX^{th}.

Memorandum that the fifth day of January beyng Sunday even in the year aforesaid, the Lord Thomas Wolcy Cardinall of Yorke &c. landyd betweene eight of the clocke and nyne in the morninge at the Black fryars at London, with great company of noblemen and gentlemen, where met with him the Embassadours of the Pope, of the Emperour, the Frenche kinge, of Venise, of Florence, of Millain. And so procedyd on horseback unto Powles church dore, where they did alight. And ther the officers of armes longing unto the king gave there theire attendance, and at his alighting put on there sootes of armes. And here was also foure of the doctors, prebendarys of the sayd Powles, in copes and grey amys, which bare a rich canape over him of cloth of gould. And so the lord cardinall procedyd, havyng themperours embassadour on his right hand, and the Frenche kinges [embassadour] on his lifte hand, untill he came to the arches where was prepared a bank with quyshions and carpets, where the said Lord kneled, and there mete him, in Pontificalibus, the Bushop of London, the Bushop of St. Asse [Asaph] which censyd him: And the Bushop of Lincoln, the Bushop of Bath, the Bushop of Llandaff, the Lord Priour of Westm^r, the Priour of St. Saviours, th Abbots of Stratford, and of Towerhill, the Priour of Christ-churche, of St. Mary Spytell, with other to the so[=m]e of xvi miters. And so the procession of the hole quyer procedyd fourth, havyng thambassadours with him as afore, up to the quier, and so to the high aultier, wher, his oblation doon, he went with him into his travers, and duringe that the howre was a singing he was revestyd in Pontificalibus, and then he with all the other prelats, the quiere of Powles and his hole quiere, with his suit of rich copes, went in procession within the said church, the officers of arms about him, and next after him thembassadours, and then the Mayor of London, and the other estates and gentlemen, with the aldermen of the cittie.

The procession doon, the Masse of the Trinity was begun, songen by the Byshop of London; the Priour of St. Mary Spittell Gospeller; the Priour of Christ Church Pistoler. The masse doon the lord cardinall with the other prelatz went unto the quyer dore, where Doctor Capon declaryd the calamities, miseries, and the opprobrious deeds and works, with the great suffrance that our mother the Holy Churche hath suffryd, not allonly by the Lutherian sorte, which was lyke to have sortyd to an ungracious effecte; but also now of late of the great unhappy delings of the Paynymes, and violators of our Christien faith, the men of warr belonging to the emperor. In the sorrowful destruction of Rome, where they, like miscreantz, nothing regarding nother God nor shame, violentlye tooke and by force imprisoned our Holy Father the Pope, the which now of late by the helpe of our Lord God, which se his churche in p^rdicion, did releive hit againe; insomuch that our said Holy Father is escapyd their hands, wherfore the Lord Legats grace by the kings commandement hath here caused as this day, this noble assemble to be had, to the end that lauds praysings and congratulations might be gyven by all true Christien people unto Almighty God, and the hole company of Heaven.

And thus doing, the said lord cardinall did give his benediction to all the people. Which Doctor Capon sayd, much more than I can reherse, and this doon the sayd lord retournyd to the aultier wher the lord cardinal began _Te Deum_, the which was solempnly songen with the kingis trumpetts and shalmes, as well Inglishmen as Venysians, which doon every man repayred home. And the Lord Legat Cardinall went to his place to dynner, and the embassadours with him.

_Copied out of an ancient book written by Thomas Walle Windsore, and afterwards Garter, folio 126. Examined by us_,

WILLIAM LE NEVE. L. YORKE. DANCER HANCOCKE.

_The Ceremonial of receiving the Cardinal's Hat, sent by the Pope to Wolsey._ Extracted from a MS. in the Herald's Office. Ceremon. vol. 3. p. 219.

[FROM FIDDES' COLLECTIONS. _See p. 92._]

In the yeare of our Lord 1515, the 15^{th} daie of November, being Thursdaie and the seaventh yeare of our sovereigne lord King Henry the Eight, the said prothonitary enter'd into London, which before according was mett bothe at the sea side, likewise at Canterbury and at Rochester with the bishop of the same, and at Black Heath theare mett with him the Reverend Father in God the Bishop of Lincolne, the Earle of Essex, and many other gent. of great honour, both spiritual and temporal, and soe proceeded through London, the Bishop of Lincolne ridinge on the right hand [of] the said prothonitary and the Earle of Essex on his left hand, having with them sixe horses or above, and they all well beseeming and keeping a good order in their proceeding. The Maior of London with the aldermen on horseback in Cheapside, and the crafte stoode in the streets after there custome: and when the said Hatt was comen to the Abbey of Westminster, wheare at the north door of the same was redie th Abbot and eight abbotts besides him, all in pontificalibus, and honorabilie received it; and in like sort the same conveied to the high alter, whearuppon it was sett. The Sundaie next following, the eightenth daie, the most Reverend Father in God my Lord Cardinal, well accompanied with noble and gentlemen, both spiritual and temporal, being on horseback, as knights, barons, bishops, earles, dukes, and arch-bishops, all in due order proceeded from his place betwixt eight and nyne of the clocke to the abbey; and at the dore beforesaid, his grace with all the noble men descended from their horses and went to the high alter, wheare on the south side was ordeyned a goodlie travers from my Lord Cardinal, and when his grace was comen into it, imediatelie began the Masse of the Holy Ghost, songen by the Arch-bishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of Lincoln Gospeller, and the Bishop of Excester Epistoler, th Arch Bishops of Armachan and Dublyn, the Bishops of Winchester, Duresme, Norwiche, Ely, and Landaffe, and viii abbotts, as of Westminster, Saint Albans, Bury, Glastonbury, Reading, Glocestre, Winche-Combe, Tewkesbury, and the Prior of Coventrie, all in pontificalibus. The Bishop of Rochester was crosier to my Lord of Canterbury during the mass. M^r Doctor Collet, Deane of Powles, made a brief collation or proposition, in which especially he touched thre things, That is to witt, the name of a cardinal, and wheareof it is said, alsoe the highe honour and dignitie of the same, and as keeping the articles due and belonging to it, and by what meanes he obtained to this high honour chieflie, as by his own merits, theare naminge divers and sundrie vertues that he hath used, which have been the cause of his high and joyous promotion to all the realme. The second cause of his promotion was through our sovereigne lord the king, for the greate zeale and favour that our holy father the pope hath to his grace. The second thing, is touching the dignitie of a prince as having power judicial. The third, of a bishop signifying both the old and newe lawe, and havinge the power of them, and also the highe and great power of a cardinal, and howe he betokeneth the free beames of wisdome and charitie, which the apostles received of the Holie Ghoste on Whitsundaie, and a cardinal representeth the order of seraphin, which continually brenneth in the love of the glorious Trinity; and for thies considerations a cardinal is onelie apparrelled with redd, which collour onelie betokeneth nobleness; and howe these three estates before named be collocated and placed in heaven, also he exhorteth theare my lord cardinal, saying to him in this wise: _Non magnitudo superbum extollat nobilitatissimum honorisq; dignitate_. But remember that our Saviour in his owne person said to his disciples, _Non veni ministrari, sed ministrare; & qui minor inter vos his maior regno Celorum, et qui se exaltat humiliabilitur, & qui se humiliat exaltabitur_; my lord cardinal, be glad and enforce your selfe always to doe and execute righteousness to riche and poore, and mercy with truth; and desired all people to praie for him that he might the rather observe these poynts, and in accomplishinge the same what his reward shall be in the Kingdom of Heaven; and so ended. The Bull was read by Doctor Vecy, Deane of the King's Chappell, and Excestre, and at Agnus Dei came forth of his travers my Lord Cardinal and kneeled before the middle of the high alter, wheare for a certayne tyme he laye gravelling, his hood over his head, during benedictions and prayers, concerning the high Creation of a Cardinal, said over him by the Right Reverend Father in God the Arch-Bishop of Canterburie, which alsoe sett the hatt uppon his head. Then Te Deum was sung. All service and ceremonies finished, my Lord came to the doore before-named, led by the Dukes of Norffolk and Suffolk, where his grace with all the noble men ascended uppon their horses, and in good order proceeded to his place by Charing Crosse, next before him the crosse, preceeding it the mace such as belongeth a cardinal to have, and then my Lord of Canterbury, havinge no crosse borne before him, with the Bishop of Winchester, before them the Duke of Norffolk and Suffolk together, and in like order the residue of the noblemen, as the Bishop of Durham with the Popes Orator, then the Marquess Dorsett with the Earle of Surrey, the Earle of Shrewsburie, the Earle of Essex, the Earle of Wiltshire, the Earle of Derby, the Lord of St. Johns, the Lord Fitzwater, the Lord of Burgaveny, the Lord Dawbeny, the Lord Willoughby, the Lord Hastings, the Lord Ferrers, the Lord Lattimer, the Lord Cobham, and the Lord Darcey, Sir Henry Marney, Sir John Peche, Sir Thomas a Parr, Sir Nicholas Vaux, and so all other Banneretts, Knyghts, and Gentlemen before, after their degrees, and following his grace the Arch-bishop of Armachan and Dublyn, the Bishops of Lincolne and Norwiche, Excestre, Ely, and Rochester, and the ----, after them, my Lords Cardinals place, being well sorted in every behalfe, and used with goodlie order, the hall and chambers garnished very sumptuouslie with riche arras, a great feast kept as to suche a highe and honourable creation belongeth. At the which were the King & Queene and the French Queene, with all the noblemen above specified, alsoe present at the creation the Lord Fineaux, the Lord Read, the Barons of the Exchequer, with other Judges and Serjeants at Law.

FINIS.

POEMS.

BY

GEORGE CAVENDISH.

The Poems of George Cavendish, which accompany the Life of Wolsey in the Original Autograph Manuscript, consist of a series of Visions upon the Fortunes and Fall of the most eminent Persons of his time.

The reader is here presented with the Prologue; the Legend of Wolsey; and the Author's Address to his Book; with two stanzas from a long Epitaph on Queen Mary. This specimen, it is presumed, will be deemed sufficient to convey an idea of the style of Cavendish in verse. It should be remembered, that the Mirror for Magistrates, which subsequently became so popular, had not then been given to the world. Cavendish, therefore, may have formed his plan from Lydgate's Fall of Princes. Traces of the same kind of versification, which is evidently intended to depend more on rhythmical cadence than the number of feet in the verse, will be found in Skelton, in Stephen Hawes, Nicholas Grimoald, and other contributors to Tottel's Miscellany of Songes and Sonnettes. In the MS. copy there is no punctuation; but instead we have the mark of the pause or cæsura in the middle and occasionally at the end of the line; as may be remarked in the example on the plate of fac-similes.

PROLOUG DE L'AUCTOR G. C.

In the monyth of June, I lyeng sole alon Under the umber[246] of an oke with bowes pendant, Whan Phebus in Gemynys had his course overgon And entered Cancer, a sygne retrogradant, In a mean measure his beams radyant, Approaching Leo, than mused I in mynd Of fykkellness of Fortune and the course of kynd[247];

How some are by fortune exalted to riches, And often such as most unworthy be; And some oppressed in langor and sykness, Some wayling, lakkyng welthe, by wretched povertie; Some in bayle and bondage, and some at libertie: With other moo gystes[248] of fortune varyable; Some pleasant, some mean, and some onprofitable.

But after dewe serche and better advisement, I knewe by Reason that oonly God above Rewlithe thos thyngs, as is most convenyent, The same devysing to man for his behove[249]; Wherefore Dame Reason did me persuade, and move

To be content with my small estate, And in this matter no more to vestigate.

Whan I had debated all thyng in my mynd, I well considered myne obscure blyndness; So that non excuse could I see or fynd, But that my tyme I spent in idelnes; For this me thought, and trew it is doughtles, That since I ame a reasonable creature, I owght my reason and wytt to put in ure[250].

Than of what matter myght I devise to wright, To use my tyme and wytte to excercyse, Sithe most men have no pleasour or delight In any history, without it sownd to vice: Alass! shold I than, that ame not young attise With lewed ballatts, faynt harts to synne, Or flatter estatts[251] some favor of them to wynne.

What than shall I wright? the noble doughtyness Of estatts that used is now a dayes? I shall than lak matter; for gredy covetousnes Of vayne riches, whiche hathe stopt all the wayes Of worthy chyvallry, that now dayly sore dekayes: And yet thoughe some behave them nobly, Yet some ther be that dayly doth the contrarye.

For some lovyth meat fynne and delicious, And some baudye[252] brothes, as their educasion hath be; So some lovethe virtue, and some tales vicious: Sewerly suche tales get ye non of me, But to eschewe all ociosite, Of Fortune's fykellnes hereafter shall I wright, How greatest estatts she overthrowyth by myght.

Thoughe I onworthe this tragedy do begyne, Of pardon I pray the reders in meke wyse; And to correct where they se fault therein, Reputing it for lak of connyng exercyse. The cause that moved me to this enterprise Especyally was that all estatts myght see What it is to trust to Fortune's mutabylitie.

With pen and ynke I toke this work in hand, Redy to wright the deadly dole and whofull playnt Of them whose fall the world doth understand; Which for feare made my heart to faynt: I must wright playn; colours have I none to paynt; But termes rude their dolours to compile; An wofull playnt must have an wofull style.

To whome therefore for helpe shall I nowe call? Alas! Caliope my calling will utterly refuse; For mornyng dities and woo of Fortune's falle Caliope dyd never in hir dyties use; Wherefore to hir I might my self abuse: Also the Musis that on Parnasus syng Suche warblyng dole did never temper stryng.

Now to that Lord whose power is celestiall, And gwydyth all thyng of sadnes and of blysse, With humble voyce to the I crie and call, That thou wouldest direct my sely[253] pen in this: For, wantyng of thy helpe, no marvel thoughe I mysse; And by thy grace, though my style be rude, In sentence playne I may full well conclude.

Nowe by thy helpe this hystory I will begyn, And from theffect varie nothing at all; For if I shold, it ware to me great synne To take uppon me a matter so substancyall, So waytie, so necessarie, of fame perpetuall: And thus to be short, oon began to speke With deadly voyce, as thoughe his hart wold breke.

FINIS QUOD G. C.

LE HISTORYE

CARDINALIS EBORACENSIS.

O Fortune! (quoth he) shold I on the complayn, Or of my negligence, that I susteyn this smart? Thy doble visage hathe led me to this trayne; For at my begynnyng thou dydst ay take my part, Untill ambysion had puffed up my hart With vainglory, honor, and usurped dignytie, Forgettyng cleane my naturall mendycitie.

From povertie to plentie, which now I see is vayn, A cardinal I was, and legate de latere, A byshope and archbysshope, the more to crease my gayn Chauncellor of Englond, Fortune by hir false flatterie Dyd me advance, and gave me such auctorytie That of hyghe and low I toke on me the charge, All England to rewle, my power extendyd large.

Whan Fortune with favor had set me thus aloft, I gathered me riches; suffisance could not content; My fare was superfluous, my bed was fyne and soft; To have my desiers I past not what I spent: In yerthe, such abondaunce Fortune had me lent, Yt was not in the world that I could well requier, But Fortune strayt wayes did graunt me my desier.

My byldyngs somptious, the roffes with gold and byse[254] Shone lyke the sone in myd day spere, Craftely entaylled[255] as connyng could devise, With images embossed, most lively did appere; Expertest artificers that ware both farre and nere, To beautyfie my howssys, I had them at my will: Thus I wanted nought my pleasures to fullfill.

My galleries ware fayer both large and long, To walke in them whan that it lyked me best; My gardens sweet, enclosed with walles strong, Embanked with benches to sytt and take my rest; The knotts so enknotted, it cannot be exprest[256], With arbors and alyes so pleasant and so dulce, The pestylent ayers with flavors to repulse.

My chambers garnysht with arras fynne, Importyng personages of the lyvelyest kynd: And whan I was disposed in them to dynne, My clothe of estate there ready did I fynd, Furnysshed complett according to my mynd; The subtyll perfumes of muske and sweet amber, There wanted non to perfume all my chamber.

Plate of all sorts most curiously wrought, Of facions new, I past not of[257] the old, No vessell but sylver before me was brought, Full of dayntes vyands, the some cannot be told; I dranke my wynne alwayes in sylver and in gold: And daylye to serve me, attendyng on my table, Servaunts I had bothe worshipfull and honorable.

My crosses twayne of sylver long and greate, That dayly byfore me ware carried hyghe, Upon great horses, opynly in the strete, And massie pillars gloriouse to the eye, With pollaxes gylt that no man durst come nyghe My presence, I was so pryncely to behold, Ridyng on my mule trapped in sylver and gold.

My legantyne prerogatyve was myche to myn avayle, By vertue wherof I had thys high preemynence: All vacant benefices I did them strayt retaylle, Presentyng than my clarke, as sone as I had intellygence: I prevented the patron, ther vaylled[258] no resistence; All bysshopes and prelates durst not oons denay, They doughted so my power, they myght not dysobey.

Thus may you see how I to riches did attayne, And with suffisaunce my mynd was not content; Whan I had most, I rathest[259] wold complayne; For lake of good, alas! how I was blent[260]! Where shall my gatheryngs and good be spent?

Some oon, perchance, shall me thereof dyscharge, Whom I most hate, and spend it owt at large[261].

Sytting in Jugement, parcyall ware my doomes; I spared non estatte, of hyghe or low degree; I preferred whom me lyst, exaltyng symple gromes Above the nobles; I spared myche the spritualtie, Not passyng myche on the temperaltie; Promotyng such to so hyghe estate As unto prynces wold boldly say chek-mate.

Oon to subdewe that did me always favor, And in that place another to avaunce, Ayenst all trewthe, I did my busy labor, And, whilest I was workyng witty whiles in Fraunce, I was at home supplanted, where I thought most assuraunce: Thus who by fraud fraudelent is found, Fraud to the defrauder will aye rebound.

Who workyth fraude often is disceyved; As in a myrror, ye may behold in me; For by disceyt, or I had it perceyved, I was disceyved; a guerdon mete parde For hyme that wold, ayenst all equite, Dysceyve the innocent, that innocent was in deede; Therefore Justice of Justice ayenst me must proceede.

For by my subtill dealyng thus it came to passe, Cheafely disdayned, for whome I toke the payn; And than to repent it was too late, alas! My purpose I wold than have changed fayn; But it wold not be, I was perceived playn: Thus Venus the goddesse that called is of love Spared not with spight to bryng me from above.

Alas! my soverayn Lord, thou didest me avaunce, And settest me uppe in thys great pompe and pryde, And gavest to me thy realme in governaunce; Thy pryricely will why did I set aside, And followed myn own, consideryng not the tyde, How after a floode an ebbe comyth on a pace? That to consider, in my tryhumphe I lakked grace.

Now fykkell Fortune torned bathe hir whele, Or I it wyst[262], all sodenly, and down she did me cast; Down was my bed, and upward went my hele, My hold faylled me that I thought suer and fast; I se by experience, hir favor doth not last; For she full low now hath brought me under, Though I on hir complayn, alas! it is no wonder.

I lost myne honor; my treasure was me beraft; Fayn to avoyd, and quykly to geve place, Symply to depart, for me nothing was laft, Without penny or pound I lived a certyn space, Untill my soverayn Lord extendyd to me his grace;

Who restored me sufficient, if I had byn content To mayntayn myn estate, both of loud and rent.

Yet, notwithstanding, my corage was so hault, Dispight of mine enemyes rubbed me on the gall, Who conspyred together to take me with asault; They travelled without triall to geve me a fall: I therefore entendyd to trie my frends all; To forrayn potentates wrott my letters playn, Desireng their ayd, to restore me to favor againe.

Myn ennemyes, perceiving, caught thereof dysdayn, Doughtyng the daynger, dreamed on the dought; In councell consulting, my sewte to restrayn, Accused me of treason, and brought it so about That, travelling to my trial, or I could trie it owte, Death with his dart strake me for the nons[263], In Leicester, full lowe, where nowe lyeth my boons.

Loo, nowe you may see what it is to trust In worldly vanyties that voydyth with the wynd; For death in a moment consumeth all to dust: No honor, no glory, that ever man cowld fynd, But Tyme with hys tyme puttythe all out of mynd; For Tyme in breafe tyme duskyth the hystory Of them that long tyme lyved in glory.

Where is my tombe that I made for the nons, Wrought of fynne copper, that cost many a pound, To couche in my carion and my rotten boots? All is byt vayn-glory, now I have found, And small to the purpose, when I am in the ground; What doth it avaylle me, all that I have, Seyng I ame deade and laved in my grave?

Farewell Hampton Court, whos founder I was; Farewell Westminster Place, now a palace royall; Farewell the Moore, let Tynnynainger[264] passe; Farewell, in Oxford, my college cardynall; Farewell, in Ipsewich, my schole gramaticall: Yet oons farewell, I say, I shall you never see; Your somptious byldyng, what now avayllethe me?

What avayllyth my great aboundance? What is nowe left to helpe me in this case? Nothing at all but dompe in the daunce, Among deade men to tryppe on the trace: And for my gay housis now have I this place To lay in my karcas, wrapt in a sheete, Knytt with a knott at my lied and my feete.

What avayleth now my feather bedds soft, Sheets of Raynes[265], long, large, and wide, And dyvers devyses of clothes chaynged oft; Or vicious chapleyns walking by my syde, Voyde of all vertue, fullfilled with pryde, Which bathe caused me, by report of suche fame, For ther myslyvyng to have an yll name.

This is my last complaynt, I can say you no more, But farewell my servant that faythefull hathe be; Note well these words, quod he, I pray the therfore, And wright them thus playn, as I have told them the, All which is trewe, thou knowest well, parde; Thou faylledst me not, untill that I dyed, And now I must depart, I maye no longer byde!

SPECIMEN

OF

AN EPITAPHE ON QUENE MARIE.

BY GEORGE CAVENDISH:

CONSISTING OF FIFTEEN STANZAS.

Discend from hevyn, O Muse Melpomene, Thou mournfull goddesse, with thy sisters all, Passe in your playnts the wofull Niobe, Tome musyke to mone with teeres eternall, Blake be your habetts, dyme, and funeral; For deathe bathe bereft, to our great dolour, Mary our mastres, our quene of honor.

Our quene of honor, compared aptly To VERITAS VICTRIX, daughter of Tyme, By God assisted, amased in armye, When she a virgin cleare, without cryme, By ryght, without might, did happely clyme To the stage royal, just inheritor, Proclaymed Mary our quene of honor.

TH'AUCTOR TO HIS BOOKE.

Crepe forthe, my boke, under the proteccion Of suche as have bothe learnyng and eloquence; Humbly submyttyng the to the correccion Of worthy writers of virtuous excellence, Besechyng all them, of ther benygn pacience To take the meanyng, however the matter frame, Of this thyn auctor, abasshed of his name.

For, first of all, whan I do behold Of famous writers the goodly circumstance, My quaking hand my penne unnethe can hold, So dombe I ame of doctryn, lame of experience, Stakeryng in style, onsavery of sentence, Save oonly hope, that saithe withouten fayll, That my well meanyng shall quytt my travayll.

Thus, not presumyng of learnyng ne eloquence, Hope made me shove the boote from the shore; Desyryng no thyng for my fare or expence, But only good wyll; I aske no more: And for[266] the hurt of envy that myght rore, I shall set my shrowd[267] for my defence, Under the mantell of well wyllyng audyence.

And principally this my work for to assist, I humbly beseche that Lord that is eternall To defend my penne that wrott this with my fist, To be my savegard, my staffe, and my wall; And consequently for feare least I shold fall In the daynger of the learned[268] and honorable sort, I pray them all my lamenes to support.

Least perchaunce the pleasaunt floode do faylle Of witty writing or sugred eloquence, Followe, therfore, good wyll at the boots taylle, Me to preserve in the waves of ignorance, Socoured by hope and gentill sufferance: Nowe hale uppe, skuller; God graunt me wynd, And Jhesu defend me to my lives end.

Whan thou, my boke, comest into the prease Bothe of the wyse and learned multitude, To excuse thyn auctor thou canst do no lesse,

Wantyng learnyng, and of utterance rude, Which did never this enterprise entrude; Trustyng either of wytt or learnyng, But for an exercise, and non other thyng.

FINIE ET COMPILÉ LE XXIIIJ JOUR DE JUNIJ Ā REGNO[=R] PHILIPPI REX & REGINE MARIE IIIJ^{TO}. & V^{TO}.[269]

PER LE AUCTOR G. C.

_Novus Rex, nova Lex: Nova sola Regina, probz pene ruina._

FINIS.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS.

FOOTNOTES:

[246] _umber_, i. e. shade, _ombre_, Fr.

[247] _kynd_, is _nature_.

[248] _gystes_, or _gests_, are _actions_.

[249] For his _behove_, for his _behoof_ or _advantage_.

[250] To put in _ure_, i. e. to put in _use_. Thus in Ferrex and Porrex, by Sackville:

And wisdome willed me without protract In speedie wise to put the same in _ure_.

[251] _estatts_, i. e. nobles, persons of rank or great estate.

[252] This word was used by our ancestors to signify any thing _greasy_ or _filthy_; the revolutions of language have at length confined it to one only of its ancient acceptations, that of _obscenity_.

[253] _sely_, i. e. _simple_.

[254] _gold and byse_, is gold and _purple_.

[255] _entaylled_, i. e. carved, vide p. 300.

[256] This is no uninteresting picture of the seclusion desired by our ancestors in the old geometric style of gardening. Of this curious knot-garden of Wolsey the remains are still to be seen at Hampton Court, the maze there forming part of it.

[257] _I past not of_, i. e. I cared not for.

[258] _vaylled_, availed.

[259] _rathest_, i. e. soonest.

[260] _blent_, i. e. _blind_.

[261] This is a version of the concluding passage of the Life of the Cardinal.

[262] _wyst_, i. e. knew.

[263] for the _nons_, or _nonce_, for the _purpose_.

[264] This is _Tittenhanger_, in Hertfordshire, which Wolsey held as Abbot of St. Albans: there was formerly a palace belonging to the Abbots of St. Albans there.

[265] Sheets of _Raynes_. The fine linen used by our ancestors is frequently called cloth of _Raynes_. Rennes in Brittanny was formerly celebrated for its manufacture of fine linen. In the enumeration of the cardinal's treasures at Hampton Court, many pieces of cloth of Raynes are mentioned. In the Old Phrase Book, entitled Vulgaria, by W. Horman, 1519, is the following passage: "He weareth a shurte of _Raynis_ whan curser wold serve him."

[266] "And _for_ the hurt of envy," i. e. _against_ the hurt of envy. Envy being the _cause_ of his seeking to shrowd himself.

[267] A _shrowd_, signified a shield or buckler, and metaphorically any kind of defence, coverture, or place of protection.

[268] ----"least I shold fall _In the daynger_ of the learned and honorable sort."

That is, "lest I should encounter their _censure_, or fall into the control of their severe judgment." The phrase has its origin from the barbarous Latin _in dangerio_, and is common to Chaucer and our elder writers as well as to Shakspeare and his cotemporaries.

[269] By this is meant the Fourth Year of the Reign of Philip, and the Fifth of Queen Mary, answering to 1558. The Latin rhyming couplet Cavendish appears to have added after the commencement of Elizabeth's reign. How far from a true prophecy it proved, the long and prosperous reign of Elizabeth may witness.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

There are many typographical irregularities present in this book. The two most frequent are superscripted characters, indicated here with a preceding carat (^) symbol, and macrons.

Non-UTF-8 standard macrons are indicated with a bracket and equals sign. For example: an 'm' with a macron over it appearing in the original text is transcribed as [=m].

Minor obvious punctuation and printer errors were repaired.

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings, inconsistent hyphenation, and other inconsistencies.

There are many unusual characters present in this book. In the text version, these characters are rendered using the Distributed Proofreaders' standard (for example, [=M] for a capital M with a macron (bar) over it).

End of Project Gutenberg's The Life of Cardinal Wolsey, by George Cavendish