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THat Princes are naturally ambiti-

ous, and that Ambition makes

them to effect their deſires, rather

then to affect the equitie of their

deſignes, may more truly then

ſafely be auowed. For all of them,

I thinke, were the record of their

actions indifferent, might be taxed of this vice. But

this excuſe cleares not the accuſed; yet it teſtifies,

that Princes erre againſt nature, if they aſpire not.

We hold (not without reaſon) that if the bill of the

Plaintineffe bee ſtuffed with friuolous aſſertions, that

the complaint ſauoureth more of malice, then of

wrong. Why ſhould not the ſame Axiome bee a

motiue to cleare this wronged Prince, whoſe accu-

ſers lay to his charge the anguiſh his Mother felt,

when he came into the world? then which accuſati-

on what can be more friuolous; it being a puniſh-

ment hereditary to all women, from the firſt? His

being toothed, as ſoone as borne, ſeemes to me ra-                           ||

                                   B<r>

ther a bleſſing, then any imputation, as being a pre-

ſage of his future worthineſſe, and as all Nurſes will

confeſſe, an eaſe of much paine and danger. But

he was crook-backt, lame, il-ſhapen, il-fououred. I

might impute that fault to Nature, but that I rather

thinke it her bounty: for ſhe being wholly intentiue

to his minde, neglected his forme, ſo that ſhee infu-

ſed a ſtraight minde in a crooked bodie, wherein

ſhee ſhewed her carefull prouidence. For often-

times, the care to keepe thoſe parts well formed

with-drawes mens mindes from better actions, and

drownes them in effeminate curioſitie. His lame-

neſſe turned to his glory; for with thoſe imperfect

limmes, hee performed actions moſt perfectly va-

liant.

       How rightly his Father a claimed, his brother

b obtained the Scepter, is ſufficiently knowne,

and therefore ſuperfluous and impertinent: and

alſo how his brother dusked his right, (if right)

by abrogating the oath, which he ſware at Yorke,

that his comming in armes was only for that Duke-

dome. c But to dilate how variable, and inconſtant

the people of thoſe times were, ſhall be more neceſ-

ſary and effectuall, that knowing their inconſtancie,

their traditions (like themſelues) may the leſſe bee

beleeued: ſo light-headed, ſo fooliſh, ſo irreligi-

ous, as their opinion (for what elſe are the thoughts

of Ignorance but opinion) made them breake

their oath to their Prince, d and to ſuch a Prince

as they did not ſhame to diſlike, onely becauſe

hee was too good. Him they abandoned, depo-

ſed, after reſtored; not as deſiring, (being guilty of

their owne fault) but onely that it ſtood with the                              ||

                                   <Bv>

liking of Warwicke the child of their loue. If then

they were ſuch, (as indeede they were) and that

thoſe relations wee haue, muſt come from that

people, it were better (I thinke) to bury their tra-

ditions, then refute their obiections, were not our

age, apt to erre, infected with this folly.

     For his brother K. Edward: f though his vices

ſeem not to adde vertues to this condemned Prince,

yet queſtionleſſe they doe; making all his ill-eſtima-

ted actions of an other nature. Hee obtained the

Crowne, but rather fortunately, then wiſely, were

not all wiſedome thought folly, to which Fortune

lends not ſucceſſe. For I thinke, Luſt, or if you will

terme it Loue, could not more haue preuailed with

the moſt licencious creature, then at once to breake

the bonds of amity, diſcretion and policy; and all

to enioy a woman, in reſpect of his heighth, baſe: a

widow, g and of his enemy, without bringing him

either alliance, or riches; proppes moſt pertinent

to his new-erected buildings. Wherein, beſides

his breach of regall diſcretion, with his chiefeſt

friend the Earle of Warwick, whom he had ſent into

France, to treate of marriage betweene him and the

Lady Bona, h (wherein being deluded, hee became

his mortalleſt enemie) his abuſe to God was more

abominable; being before betrothed (as his owne

mother conſtantly affirmed) to the Lady Elizabeth

Lucy: in teſtimony whereof hee had layde ſuch

earneſt, i as ſhould haue bound any common

man, much more a King, to performance. How

ſoone the wrath of God followed this his irreligi-

ous inconſtancie, his being driuen from the Seate-

Royall into exile; the birth of his ſonne in a Sanctu-                         ||

                                B2<r>

ary; (hauing no place elſe of freedome in his Fa-

thers kingdome) the miſerie of all his partakers

ſufficiently teſtifie. In which generall miſery, who

did more truely follow him? Who more faithful-

ly ayded him, then his now diſgraced Brother?

Whereas his other Brother k Clarence not onely

left him, but ioyned in marriage l with the daugh-

ter of his principall enemie, and holpe to expulſe

him: with what loue, what conſtancy, his indea-

uours, his aduenturing his life to reſtore him, doth

witneſſe.

       Neuer was he noted all the life of K. Edward, to

thirſt after Kingdome; neuer denyed hee any

commandement of his Prince, but performed all

his employments diſcreetly, valiantly, ſuccesfully.

The ſuſpition of helping his Brother Clarence to m

his end, was but a ſuſpition, ſince the kings old diſ-

pleaſure awaked by a new Propheſie, was vndoubt-

tedly the cauſe; if otherwiſe (when he after repen-

ted him) hee would haue miſliked of Glouceſter, it

being naturall to ſinne; but vnnaturall, to eaſe o-

thers of their crimes. For the killing of the Heire

of the houſe of Lancaſter at Tewkſburie, n (if ſo)

ſeemes to mee, rather the effect of loue to his Bro-

ther, then crueltie to the Prince: for he was an ene-

mie, yea, the chiefe and principall enemie of the

contrarie faction. Yet it cannot be proued the acti-

on of Richard, but that it was an act wiſhed by the

King to be done, and executed in both their preſen-

ces, by the Duke of Clarence, the Marqueβe Dorſet,

the Lord Haſtings and others.

       The death of Henrie o the 6. in the Tower, can

no way belong to him, ſince the ſame reaſon that                            ||

                                     <B2v>

cleareth his Brother, fitteth him; hee being able, if

deſiring his death, to haue effected it by a more vn-

worthy hand. And indeed this accuſation hath no

other proofe, then a malicious affirmation. For ma-

ny (more truely) did ſuppoſe that hee dyed of

meere melancholie and griefe, when he had heard

of the ouerthrow of his friends, and ſlaughter of

his ſonne. But if it were true, though it ſpots him

with bloud, yet it confirmes his loue to his Prince;

which loue was ſo coldly requited, as might haue

mooued a true louer of Rewards more then of Ver-

tue, to haue altered his indeauors, whether it were

a iealouſie of the Nobilitie of his blood, or of the

height of his ſpirit, whether the abundance of

affection to bee led by a woman, or that hee was

defectiue in all brotherly affection, certaine it is, he

rather imployed him, then rewarded his imploy-

ments. Contrary, the Queenes kindred, daylie to

riſe, meerely without deſert, but that they were of

her kindred; and their baſeneſſe being thus ſudden-

ly exalted, not only to plucke from him promotions,

due to his deſerts, but to enuie the Duke, and con-

tend with him; how inſupportable it muſt be to ſo

magnanimous a ſpirit, whoſe memorie beare wit-

neſſe of their vnworthineſſe, his owne worth, any

like ſpirit may imagine.

Thus continued this vnequall contention, vntill the

King, ſent for before the great a King of Kings, to

make an account of his greatnes, left his body, to

teſtifie the worlds folly in contending for Worlds;

when one little part of the earth muſt contain them. b

His ſucceſſor at that time very yong, was wholy poſ-

ſeſſed by the mothers bloud, whom the c now Pro-             ||

                                       B3<r>

tector had great reaſon to feare, being euer his mor-

tall enemie, and now moſt ſtrong, by being moſt

neerely allied to this Prince: Therefore iealous of

his own preſeruation, of the ſafety of the Common-

weale, and of the ancient Nobilitie, with great rea-

ſon and iuſtice hee executed them, whom, if he had

ſuffered to liue, were likely enough to haue beene

the deſtruction of him, it, and them. But the deed

accompliſhed, ſtirred vp no little feare in the Queen-

Mother, and her faction: For the Queenes taking

Sanctuarie with her younger ſonne d Richard Duke

of Yorke, without any cauſe that hee knew, draue

Glouceſter to ſuppose that they doubted of their

right, and put him in poſſibility of obtaining his

owne: wherein by ambitious e Buckingham he was

aſſiſted, who then related to him afreſh the vnlaw-

full Marriage of his Brother, that being vnlawfull,

conſequently his children were baſtards, and ſo vn-

doubtedly the Crowne was lawfully his; to which

diſcourſe hee annexed proteſtations of furtherance.

Though perhaps an earthly ſpirit would not haue

beene mooued with theſe motiues, but rather haue

deſired ſafety, then Soueraignty: yet in a true He-

roick ſpirit, whoſe affect is aſpiring, they could not

but be imbraced, vſing the wings of Time, to bring

him to that height. Be not obſtinate (Mortalitie)

againſt this climing Axiome, for hourely you com-

mit worſer errors, more groueling, more baſe. Were

it not common, euery dayes iſſue, it were admirable

to note the impudencie of man, who at this inſtant

condemnes actions, which himſelfe would inſtantly

accompliſh, were he permitted by occaſion. The

Queene-Mothers feare, his owne right, Buckinghams                       ||

                                     <B3v>

ayd; and his owne iealouſie to erect a Prince, too

young to gouerne himſelfe, much leſſe others, but

was likely to bee gouerned by his Mother, and her

kindred, the Protectors mortalleſt enemies, men of

meane birth, not inured to gouernment, ſuch as were

likely to deſtroy the ancient Peeres, to fortifie their

new Nobility, could not but draw a true diſcerning

ſpirit, to fauour himſelfe, to protect the ancient No-

bilitie, to defend the people from being waſted, and

oppreſſed by the ambition and tyrannie of new vn-

experienced Statiſts, and to reſpect hiw owne preſer-

uation, rather then others. For well hee ſaw hee

could not liue, vnleſſe hee were a King; that there

was no ſafety, but in Soueraigntie. Should I put

thee in choyce (condemning Reader) whether thou

wouldeſt not be, rather then be King; thou woul-

deſt perhaps anſwere no: but that anſwere ſhould

proceede, rather from the knowledge of thy want

of power to Royallize thee, then through the abun-

dance ofthy[1] modeſtie. No, no, it is a deſire beſit-

ting the moſt worthie deſirer; and were all mens

affections ſo high, their actions would not proue

ſo vnworthy.

       The State being thus in labour with Innouation,

the Peeres in counſaile about their Infant Kings Co-

ronation, all buſie, yet diſſenting in their buſineſſe;

in a Councell holden at the Tower, Haſtings Lord

f Chamberlaine was apprehended, and no ſooner

apprehended, but executed. The not leiſurely pro-

ceeding by forme of Law, may ſeeme to pleade

Haſtings innocencie, the Protectors crueltie. But they

that conſider the nature of the people of that time,

apt to ſedition, greedy of innouation, and likely to                            ||

                                     <B4r>

be glad of ſo pittiful a color (for Haſtings was a man

growne very popular) will hold the Protector in that

action very iudiciall, and, if guilty of any thing, of

diſcretion, and policie: But could Haſtings be in-

nocent, whom g Cōmines reporteth to be a Penſio-

ner of the French King, Lewis the 11. the onely ſub-

till Prince of that time? he, of all others, that moſt

affected tyrannie, and was naturally the mortall e-

nemy of this kingdome. Or was he fit to be a Stateſ-

man or Counſailor, who beeing corrupted by the

bribes of an enemie, had diſſwaded his Maſter, the

late King Edward the 4. from aſſiſting the oppreſſed

Lady a the heire of Burgundie, againſt Lewes the

French King, whereby that Lady was driuen to ſeek

ayd elſewhere, who, otherwiſe, was likely to haue

married with the Duke of Clarence, or ſome other

Engliſh Prince, and ſo to haue vnited that Duke-

dome to this Crowne, to the eternall benefit and

ſecurity of both Countries; who gloried in his pri-

uate reuenges, who not onely enticed his Maſter,

but accompanied him in all ſenſuality: who in the

deflowring of mens wiues, c and ſuch other his vn-

princelike actions, was his perpetuall attendant, and

ſometimes (as it is thought) would begin to him?

d Doctor Shaes Sermon not a little illuſtrates the

malice of his accuſers: For I thinke, no man that

is deſcreet, will imagine this Prince ſo indiſcreet, as

to haue witneſſe that he commanded that Sermon,

and gaue instructions what ſhould bee ſaid: Then

how do our Chroniclers report it for truth, were not

their malice greater then either their truth, or their

iudgement? But they are Hiſtorians, and muſt be

beleeued.                                                                                           ||

                                     <B4v>

       Alas, poore men, how would they be beleeued,

whoſe greateſt authorities (as a learned and honou-

rable Knight writeth) are built vpon the notable

foundation of heare-ſay? men that haue much aide

to accord differing writers, and to picke truth out of

partiality. But it is not mentioned, that Shaw euer

executed this action, with alleaging him to be the

cauſe. It is likely indeed, that Shaw being ambiti-

ous, gaping after preferment, ſuppoſing ſome ſuch

intent in the Protector (as hee had a reaching head)

was bold to ſet his Rethoricke to ſale, to publiſh his

fancies: but ſeeing his hopes vaniſh into ſmoke, and

his expectation deluded, ſeeing the Protector neither

rewarded, nor regarded his Rhethorick, he ſoone af-

ter languiſhed and dyed: a iuſt example to teach

Theologians ſo boldly to intermeddle with Princes

affaires, before they be commanded: for (doubtleſſe)

had the Protector ſet him a worke, hee would haue

payed him his hire. But if it were ſo, that he com-

maunded the Sermon (as that is yet vnproued) was

that an offence to make the people ſo publikely par-

takers of his right; yea, to proſtitute his cauſe to

their iudgements? for charging his Mother with a-

dulterie, was a matter of no ſuch great moment,

ſince it is no wonder in that ſexe: And ſurely he had

more reaſon to aduenture her fame, then his King-

dome, decauſe of two euils it is wiſedome to choſe

the leaſt. If it were true, it was no iniuſtice to pub-

liſh it; and what could be expected from him, but

true Iuſtice, who was ſo impartiall, that hee would

not ſpare his owne mother? if vntrue; good faith,

he was therein too blame, and her innocencie the

more meritorious; but certaine it is, the people ap-                           ||

                                       C<r>

proued his right: for he was crowned f with ſuch

conſent, and ſo great applauſe both of Peeres and

people, that if we will iudge by the outward behaui-

our (the onely marke our iudgements may or can

leuell at) we muſt determine them ſo contented, as

no actions which might teſtifie the ſatisfaction of

their mindes, were omttted[2]: ſurely, if euer the vniu-

diciall multitude did any thing iudicially, it was in

receiuing this Prince, whom his chiefe diſgracers

cannot but acknowledge for valiant; then who was

more meet to reſtraine domeſticke, to ſubdue for-

raine ſeditions? For theſe ciuill diſſenſions had al-

moſt waſted and made deſolate this populous Nati-

on: diſcreete hee was and temperate, (two ſo rare

and excellent qualities, as hee that truly poſſeſſeth

them, meriteth the poſſeſſion of a Diademe:) for in

theſe vertues, ioyned with that Cardinall vertue For-

titude (whereof alſo he had a very large portion) con-

ſiſteth the ſoule of Soueraignty, which whoſoeuer

wanteth (be he a while neuer ſo powerfull) his owne

greatneſſe ſo cruſheth him, that he forfeiteth all in a

moment: moſt liberall he was, deſiring rather to

want, then to ſuffer worth vnrewarded: and this li-

beralitie is the onely true Nurſe, and foſterer of ver-

tue; vertue vnrewarded being vnſenſible, our fleſh

being gouerned, aduiſed, yea maſtered by our ſen-

ſes: this worthy, this Princely ornament ſome ca-

lumniators haue ſought in him to deface, allea-

ging; that his liberality to ſome, proceeded from his

extortion from others: but euen thoſe cannot de-

ny him to haue been politicke and wiſe; then is it

likely that a Prince of his wiſedome and policie,

could not deſcerne betweene the worthy and vnwor-                        ||

                                    <Cv>

thy? And to take from vndeſeruers, to beſtowe vp-

on deſeruers, muſt bee acknowledged a Vertue.

       He was neither luxurious, nor an Epicure, not gi-

uen to any riot, nor to exceſſe, neither in apparell,

nor play: for had he been touched with any of theſe

vices, doubtleſſe they which obiect leſſer crimes,

would not haue omitted theſe: then (without que-

ſtion) hee was largely intereſſed in vertues, (their

contraries) but thoſe (through malice) are either not

regiſtred, or (if regiſtred) ſo infamed, as if all his ver-

tues had a vicious intent: yet to acknowledge the

vertues of the vicious, in ſuch a right, that what Hi-

ſtorian willingly omitteth them, therein becom-

meth vicious himſelfe. But in all that I haue hither-

to among tee[3] vulgar obſerued:

     Culpatur factum, non ob aliud, quam exitum:

they approue, or diſproue all things by the euent;

which though ſometimes it proueth like the cauſe,

yet it is more often gouerned by the will of the di-

uine prouidence. And ſurely, but that the gracious

goodneſſe of God, to manifeſt the weakneſſe of hu-

mane policy, ouerthrew his deſignes, tooke from

him his Kingdome; and contrary either to mans

hope, or our merit, vnited by a bleſſed and happy

coniunction a the two diſſenting factions, to the true

eſtabliſhing of ſweete peace and proſperity of this

deſolate kingdome: for, otherwiſe, had he liued to

haue left Iſſue to haue ſucceeded him, ſuch might

haue beene his and their merits, that Fame would

haue been no more iniurious to him, then to his

Predeceſſors, the fourth Henry and Edward, whoſe

reignes were polluted with much more royal bloud:

for he omitted nothing, that in wiſedome, or true                              ||

                                 C2<r>

policie might ſecure himſelfe, or eſtabliſh peace, or

good lawes in this Kingdome.

       His Statutes are extant; what can be found in

them not becomming a King? what, not befitting

the ſeruice of God? the worſhip of Religion? the

good of his Countrie? yea, I haue heard of ſome,

accounted both good Lawyers, and good Statiſts;

that in thoſe three yeares of his gouernment, there

were more good Statutes for the weale-publike

inacted, then in 30. yeares before. He was no taxer

of the people, no oppreſſor of the Cōmons, though

he came to manage an Eſtate, whoſe treaſure was

exceedingly exhauſted; no ſuppreſſor of his ſub-

iects, to ſatisfie either licentious humors, or to inrich

light-headed flatterers. But (alas) who robbes ver-

tue, but ingratitude, detraction, and malice? what

a curſe is it to Mortalitie, that no faſhion of life, no

merits, no regards can free Princes from diſcon-

tentments in their life, and infamy after death?

who is it that heares of any one ſo endued, ſo loden

with vertues, that iudgeth him not happy? yet he

is defamed; and by whom? euen by thoſe, for

whom hee cared, laboured, and omitted nothing

that might profit, committed nothing that might

preiudice them.

       This, the charge and commandement that hee

gaue preſently after his coronation, to the Lords

and Gentlemen (whom hee ſent home into their

Countries) that they ſhould in their Countries ſee

Iuſtice duly adminiſtred and impartially, (that no

wrong, nor extortion ſhould bee done to his ſub-

iects) doth teſtifie; this, his lawes, and all his acti-

ons approue: yet neither the care of his Country,                             ||

                                     <C2v>

his lawes, nor actions, are thought to be ſufficient to

pleade his equity and innocency: for malicious

credulitie rather embraceth the partiall writings of

indiſcreet Chroniclers, and witty Play-makers, then

his lawes, and actions, the moſt innocent, and im-

partiall witneſſes.

       It is laid to his charge (as a maine obiection)

that hee was ambitious, let vs examine the truth

of this accuſation. Was he ambitious, who was

onely content with the limits of his own Countrey,

who ſought to bee rather famous for inſtituting of

good Lawes, then for atchieuing great conqueſts?

No, no, he wanted nothing to make him an accom-

pliſhed Prince, but that hee was not ambitious e-

nough: for had hee imitated that worthie King

Henrie the 5. who, in a like vnſettled eſtate, led out

the Nobility and people, to make warres vpon for-

raine enemies, to make conqueſt of France, and to

embrue their Warlike ſwords (lately bloudied a-

gainſt one another) in the bloud and bowels of

ſtrangers: he might (perhaps) haue had a fortunate

ſucceſſe: For he wanted not the like title, he was no

leſſe valiant, no leſſe politicke. So might hee haue

re-conquered that kingdome, and thoſe Territories,

which by the puſillanimity of ſome of his Prede-

ceſſors were giuen away, and loſt, & (peraduenture)

ſo buſied that ſtirring heads of the Nobility and

people, that they ſhould haue had no leyſure to

thinke vpon any Innouation or part-taking at home:

ſo might he happily haue ſecured himſelfe, and in-

larged the bounds of his conqueſts beyond any of

his Anceſtors. What lets or obſtacles could hin-

der him from thoſe glorious enterpriſes? His Sub-                             ||

                                     C3<r>

iects were warlike, trained vp in armes; ſomewhat

too much exerciſed in bloud, becauſe it was in their

owne. His neighbours, the French, were gouerned

by b a king, who had ſome policie, but ſo little va-

lour, that he would rather yeild to any Capitulation,

then heare the ſound of an aduerſarie Drumme. So

that his people, being vnured to warres, were eaſily

to be conquered by that Nation, which had ſo often

beaten them in the height of their daring.

       The Scots, their colleagues, he had already been

victorious ouer: his name among them was grown

terrible. For in the time of his Brother hee wanne

from them many Caſtles, and Holds. But princi-

pally he conquered c Barwik, the chiefe and princi-

pall Towne vpon their frontiers a piece of ſpeciall

importance, either to make eaſie our entrance into

that kingdome, or to keep them from inuading ours:

ſo that I cannot iuſtly accuſe him of any crime ſo

much, as that his ambition ſtretched not farre e-

nough. To iuſtifie his aduerſaries accuſation, in

this time chanced the death of his two young d

Nephewes in the Tower, whoſe deaths promiſing

quiet to him, and wholly impoſed vpon him, how

truely, I haue reaſon to doubt; becauſe his accuſers

are ſo violent, and impudent, that thoſe vertues

(which in other men are imbraced, for which they

are eſteemed as Gods) they impute to him rather

to be enamellers of vices, then really vertues: His

Humility they terme ſecret pride: his Liberality,

Prodigality: his Valour, crueltie and bloudthirſti-

neſſe: yet in theſe dayes, their partiall opinions are

thought to be of validitie ſufficient, to make proofe

of any imputation: But if it were ſo, that their                                   ||

                                  <C3v>

deaths were by him contriued, and commanded,

the offence was to God, not to the people: for the

depriuing them of their liues, freed the people from

diſſenſion. And how could hee demonſtrate his

loue more amply, then to aduenture his ſoule for

their quiet? But who knoweth, whether it were not

Gods ſecret iudgement, to puniſh the Fathers tranſ-

greſſion in the children? and if it be ſo, complaine

of their Fate, not Richards crueltie: (for in theſe

fatall things it fals out, that the High-working pow-

ers, make ſecond cauſes vnwittingly acceſſarie to

their determinations) yet, in policie, Princes neuer

account Competitors (how young ſoeuer) inno-

cent, ſince the leaſt colour of right prouokes inno-

uating humours to ſtirre vp ſedition, which (once

kindled) threatens the ſubuerſion, both of Princes

and Subiects.

       And if ſome wiſe, and politike Princes haue

impriſoned, and put to death, ſuch as haue been re-

puted their heires and ſucceſſors, becauſe ſome facti-

ous heads, (weary of good gouernment, and ho-

ping for authority by alteration) haue ſought to e-

ſtabliſh them before their times; (as commonly,

giddy-brained people doe more reuerence the Suns

riſing, then his fall) had not King Richard great

reaſon to depriue them of their liues, who were not

to ſucceede him, (but in many mens iudgements)

had moſt right to bee inveſted before him with the

Diademe? And (indeed) the remoouing ſuch oc-

caſions of ciuill warres in a well-ruled Common-

wealth, is moſt profitable, moſt commendable; be-

ing no crueltie, but pitty, a iealouſie of their ſub-

iects, and a zealous regard of their owne ſafeties.                             ||

                                     <C4r>

And (indeed) if we duely conſider, how much the

duty we owe to a Countrey, exceedes all other du-

ties, ſince in it ſelfe it containes them all, that for the

reſpect thereof, not onely all tender reſpects of kin-

dred, or whatſoeuer other reſpects of friendſhip, are

to be layd aſide; but that euen long-held opinions,

(rather grounded vpon a ſecret of gouernment,

then any ground of truth) are to be forſaken: ſince

the end, whereto any thing is directed, is euer to be

of more noble reckoning, then the thing thereto di-

rected; that therefore the weale publike is more

to be regarded, then any perſon or Magiſtrate that

thereunto is ordained, the feeling conſideration

hereof moued King Richard, to ſet principally be-

fore his eyes the good eſtate of ſo many thouſands,

ouer whom he had reigned, rather then ſo to hood-

winke himſelfe with affection, as to ſuffer his Realm

to run to manifeſt ruine.

       If any man ſhall obiect, that his courſe was

ſtrange, and vnlawfull: let him know, that new ne-

ceſſities, require new remedies; and for him there

was no remedie, but this one. Then if for this acti-

on hee ought to be condemned, it is for indiſcretion

in the managing; for as ſafely might hee haue had

the Realmes generall conſent, in diſpoſing of their

liues, as of their kingdome. Had hee held a ſecret

execution beſt, hee might haue effected it more ſe-

cretly: but hee rather choſe a middle way, content

to let the people know it, holding their knowledge

equall with their conſents: And it ſhould ſeeme,

the people, (though they were at that time very

factious) yet approued thereof: for wee find not

that in any action, either inward or outward, they                             ||

                                   <C4v>

ſhewed any diſlike. And (truely) ſuch is the dif-

ference between the thoughts, the actions, the diſ-

poſitions of Princes and Subiects, that I hold no

ſubiect ſufficiently iudiciall, to cenſure them: their

courſes ſo vnlike, that what is meete, expedient in a

Prince, in a lower fortune is vtterly vnmeete, vnex-

pedient. Therefore let no ſeruile condition aduen-

ture to condemne them, ſince all ſuch eyes loſe their

facultie, if they but gaze againſt the Sunne of Ma-

ieſtie. It is ſufficient for vs to know how to obey;

this Nature commandeth and exacteth of vs: but

to ſearch into the actions of our Commanders, di-

lates more curioſity, then honeſtie: Nay, though

we would, we cannot: for our knowledge extends to

things equall, or inferiour; thoſe aboue vs, in diui-

nity, are comprehended onely by faith; in terrene

matters (if ſuperating our eſtates) they are onely

ſnatched at by ſuppoſition. And this our Lawes

approue, which appoint euery man to bee tried by

his Peeres; ſhall then the head, the director of ciuill

policie, the anointed Maieſtie of a King, be barred

from the right, allowed to ſubiects? No (ſurely) it

is prepoſterous, moſt vnlawfull to condemne a king,

if not found faulty by a a Iury of Kings. Were

man in his innocencie, this aduice were not loſt: but

beeing nouſled in miſuſing of his malicious

tongue, euer to condemne others, neuer to a-

mend themſelues, it is (as they will be for their

abuſe) perpetually loſt; No more then for

them.

       Let vs yet further cleare this wronged Prince:

It is conſtantly affirmed (ſay our Croniclers) that

hee firſt noyſed, after, contriued the death of                                     ||

                                   D<r>

his wife: b and that it was bruited, before it

was effected, thereby with her ſorrowes to confirme

the report. This euidence they adiudge pregnant,

and effectuall enough to condemne him: did Fame

neuer lye? What are more generally receiued for

vntruths, then flying reports, ſeeing no creature

ſenſible will giue credit to Fame, or take her word,

without a ſurety, whom they may aſſuredly know to

bee credible? But conſtantly (ſay our Croniclers)

could their words bee ſo conſtant, whoſe actions

were the very ſtage of inconſtancie, who oppoſed,

depoſed kings at their pleaſure, and (to make ſure

to be no worſe then they were) ſwore allegeance

to two c Princes at once, and with both broke their

Othes? But I will ſpend no more time, in prouing

the vanitie of theſe Croniclers, ſince their owne

pen contradicts it ſelfe; firſt, ſhewing the affections

of this people to be mutinous, and after, approuing

them: for certaine it is (but vncertaine, that the

King cauſed it) that ſuch a rumour there was, and

that it made a great impreſſion in the Queene, dee-

ming (as women are euer fearefull) this propheti-

call relation to be the forerunner of her end: which

bewailing to her husband, hee fought with all kind-

neſſe to remoue that melancholy fantaſie. What

more could hee doe to teſtifie his loue, to cure her

paſſions? But how abſurd is it to thinke or imagine,

that the king contriued her death? Where, if hee

had pleaſed to marry elſewhere (for that is made

the cauſe) hee might and would haue vſed a more

ſafe meanes by a diuorce: did not the French king

Lewes the 12. (bacauſe a his wife was barren, and

crooked backt) ſue a diuorce, and obtained it from                          ||

                                     <Dv>

Pope Alexander the ſixt, and afterward by his diſ-

penſation married with Anne Dutcheſſe of Brittaine,

the widdow of his predeceſſor Charles the 8? Might

not King Richard haue done the like: for he had the

like cauſe (his wiſe being barren) whereof hee had

often complained to Rotheram then Archbiſhop of

Yorke? And the Popes of thoſe times were not ſo

nice conſcienced to deny Princes ſuch requeſts, but

were eaſily wonne thereunto, either by fauour, or re-

wards: therefore, that he contriued her death, was

a ſlanderous, falſe and abſurd accuſation; but her

b time was come, which Mortalitie might ſorrow,

but ſorrow might not preuent, Death beeing

deafe to all humane lamentations.

       After her death, being deſirous to reconcile him-

ſelfe to all ſuch, as held themſelues offended (as at

his Coronation hee had done with Fogg a meane

Attourny, who had highly offended him) he labou-

red to win the one ſort with benefits and rewards,

and freely pardoned the others misbehauiors and

offences: hee had no cauſe to feare Fogg, therefore

feare was not the cauſe. No, it was a worthy, a

kingly humility, that would rather abate of his great-

neſſe, then to haue it ſtained with the bloud of ſo

meane a vaſſaile, for a crime committed againſt

himſelfe, yet was hee guilty of counterfeiting his

Royall hand and Signet, and of a moſt vntrue and

infamous libell: therefore how falſely do our Croni-

clers ſeeke to cleare Collingborne, who was (as may

appeare by his inditement c) executed for treaſon

againſt the ſtate, nor for that ryming, fooliſh, ridi-

culous libell? for neither they, nor any other can e-

uer prooue, that euer he reuenged any iniury what-                           ||

                                       D2<r>

ſoeuer committed particularly againſt himſelfe. For

the good and ſafety of his kingdome and people, he

was zealous, hee was feruent: for, onely for their

peace, for their quiet, hee was content to ſuffer his

neereſt kinſmen, his deareſt friends to be executed;

ſo now with the mother Queene he laboured recon-

ciliation, he often ſolicited it, at the laſt he effected

it: This rare, this excellent worke of Chriſtianity,

this true cogniſance of a Religious Queene, our Chro-

niclers defame, and impute it to her as an horrible

crime: ſuch is the obſtinate errour of mankinde,

that, when hatred is by God abſolutely prohibited,

they dare ſay and maintaine the contrary: but(were

not they thus corrupt, partiall, gouerned wholly

by affection, not truth;) their Hiſtories would be the

wiſeſt guides, making men that are young in yeeres,

olde in iudgement, making experience moſt pre-

cious) moſt cheape: For Knowledge, Iudgement,

and Experience are dearely purchaſed, when wee

muſt wander into infinite errours, ere we can be

perfect in our way; nay, they were moſt deare, were

they had with no other expence, but growing old

before we enioy them, waxing rotten, ere they grow

ripe. The end and ſcope of this reconciliation was,

to vnite himſelfe in marriage with his d Neece:

a contract (no dubt) inconuenient, and prohibited

the Vulgar; but amongſt Stateſ-men it is like to pro-

duce infinite good, both to Prince and people. It is

an incōuenience, moſt conuenient, nothing ſtrange,

becauſe vſuall, and accuſtomed amongſt Princes:

tolerated, yea allowed by their receiued Oracle of di-

uinity; the Pope, who conſidering the cauſe, ordinari-

ly diſpenſeth with the Conſanguinity. It is granted                            ||

                                     <D2v>

that this deſire of marriage was mentioned by this

King, in reſpect of the publike peace; to make ſatiſ-

faction to the Mother, in exalting the daughter, for

the deiecting of the Sonnes, and to auoid the effu-

ſion of much of the peoples bloud, which was likely

to be ſpilt, if his Neece ſhould marry elſewhere: as if

(ſayour[4] Chroniclers) the firſt could not be eſtabliſhed,

the latter auoided without this Platforme of Policie;

No, had not Gods ſecret working bin beyond mans

wiſeſt apprehenſion, it could not: for well he knew

the head-ſtrong obſtinacy of this people could hard-

ly be kept in awe by a man, therfore impoſſible to be

reſtrained by childrē: this made him diſpoſſeſſe them

of their Kingdom, & (peraduenture) of their liues:

for had they been ſuffered to liue, they would euer

haue bin the fire-brands of new ſeditions; and ther-

fore he thought it more conuenient, they ſhould be

quenched with their owne blouds, then with the

blouds of infinit numbers of the people; yet to make

ſatiſfaction for this wrong, (if it were a wrong to de-

priue the diſturbers of the common good) hee was

contended and much laboured to marry their Siſter,

his Neece: but he is therefore adiudged ill: why?

becauſe his accuſers would be reputed good, though

(without doubt) he was a good Prince, and they all,

or the moſt part of all, euill, phantaſticke, and ſedi-

tious people. And euen at this day, though the for-

tunate & ſucceſfull gouernment of our later Princes,

hath ſomwhat altered their natures, & bettered their

conditions; yet it were a leſſe difficult queſt to finde

one good man, then many. But it pleaſed not the di-

uine Ordainer of marriage to permit that coniuncti-

on, but rather to ſet a Period at once to his kingdome

and life.                                                                                               ||

                                         D3<r>

       About the time of the plotting of this mariage, the

iudiciall Buckingham, (not thinking himſelfe ſuffici-

ently regarded) grew diſcontent, and got the Prin-

ces fauour to retire himſelf into the Country; where

(no doubt) his fantaſtick melancholly would ſoone

haue vaniſhed (being a man more happy in the inhe-

ritance of his Father, then in the legacie of Nature,

diſcretion, or iudgement) had not the Priſoner cor-

rupted the Iaylour: namely, a Moreton, Biſhop of Ely

(committed by King Richard to his cuſtodie) who

finding this Duke diſcontented, more deſirous to

inflame his griefes, then to redreſſe them, with his

fiery wit ſo wrought vpon the Dukes combuſtible

matter, that ſuddenly he brought him to kindle a fire

of rebellion, and to take vp armes againſt his Soue-

raigne: this K. Richard ſoone hearing, he proſecu-

ted him as an enemy, and ſo laboured (what by his

owne wiſedome, what by his eſpecials) that within

a while he tooke his head from b his body, for being

no better able to aduiſe him in his proceedings: was

it a fault to puniſh periury in him, who had ſworne

true allegeance? then the executing of law is a ſin;

if ſo, let tranſgreſſors be accounted innocent, and

Magiſtrates and Iudges guilty of tranſgreſſion. And

had this been the action of ſome other Prince, it had

been good, iuſt, neceſſary; but being his, it is cenſu-

red the contrary: ſo that ſinne is not ſinne, nor ver-

tue accounted vertue, by their owne natures or ef-

fects, but are made vertues or vices, by the loue or

hate that is borne to the committer: ſuch is our hu-

mane vnderſtanding, as they rather confound all

things, then by diſtinguiſhing them to make choice

of the worthieſt; for let a Noble-man be popular, if                           ||

                                    <D3v>

he haue an ill face, it is termed warlike, his drun-

kenneſſe is termed good fellowſhip, his ſlouenlineſs,

humility, his prodigality, liberality; thus is vertue

ſuppreſſed, and forced with her own titles to adorne

her mortalleſt aduerſaries. But, to returne to our de-

famed King had not his mercy exceeded his cruelty,

his ſafety had been better ſecured, and his name not

ſo much ſubiect to obloquy: for though he cut off

the head of a mighty Conſpirator, yet he ſuffered the

conſpiracie to take ſo deepe root, that (in the end)

the branches thereof ouertopped his glory, and o-

uerſhadowed his greatneſſe. c For the Counteſſe of

Richmond labouring in her ſonnes right, daily enticed

and inueigled many to be of her faction: to ſtreng,

then which the more, it was plotted betweene the

two Mothers, to ioyne a the two diſſenting houſes in

vnitie, by b a marriage. This practice the King

well knew; yet mercy, loue, lenity ſo preuailed

with him, that hee onely ſought to preuent that

coniunction, by vniting his brothers daughter with

himſelfe, and inflicted no other puniſhment on the

Counteſſe, but onely the committing of her to the

cuſtody of her c Husband. Would a cruell bloud

thirſty Prince haue done ſo? could any thing haue

been performed with more mildneſſe and lenity?

could he do leſſe then let her vnderſtand, that hee

knew her ſecreteſt practiſes? Surely, if hee were an

Vſurper (as that he could not be now, ſtanding after

the death of his Nephewes in the ſame ranke, that

Edward the fourth his brother did) yet his equity in

iuſtice, his mercy in pardoning offendors, his care

of Religion, his prouidence for the ſafety of the peo-

ple, ſhould and ought to haue tempered the bitter-                            ||

                                  <D4r>

neſſe of his moſt malicious enemies, with no leſſe

mercifull gentleneſſe he vſed her husband, (and that)

at ſuch time as her ſonne was already landed, and

made claime to the kingdome: for hee onely tooke

his ſonne d the Lord Strange as an hoſtage, and

then ſuffered him to go into the Country to leuie his

forces: ſo farre was he from bloud and cruelty, as,

though he knew his alliance to the contrary faction,

a motiue, ſufficient to make him (as indeed hee

did) incline to their ayd, though hee might iuſtly

ſuſpect him, and could not haue wanted colour to

haue beheaded him (as being father-in-law to his

Competitor) yet he only detained his ſonne in his

Campe; and when hee had aſſured notice of his

Fathers diſloyall reuolt, yet he ſuffered the Hoſtage

of his loyalty to liue: an euidence effectuall enough

to teſtifie, that he deſired rather to ſettle, then to o-

uerthrow the quiet of this Land; that he laboured

to win the hearts of his ſubiects, rather with meeke-

neſſe then cruelty; what Prince could haue done

leſſe? Nay, what King would not haue done more?

ſince both the effect, and the preſent feare, are both

ſuch inward tormentors, that it is hard to determine

which is moſt grieuous: ſo oppoſite, ſo contrary to

the nature of a Prince (borne, not to feare, but to be

feared) that it is moſt iuſt, moſt naturall, to remoue

ſuch a terrour; but now e the Heire of Lancaſter be-

ing come to challenge the Crowne, what did the

King? Did his ſpirits faile him? Was his magna-

nimous courage daunted? No, he then gathered

new ſpirit, he new ſteeled his courage, he withſtood

him with the height of fortitude; proteſting rather

to dye valiantly, then to liue leſſe then a King. With                         ||

                                       <D4v>

what a Roman-like ſpirit did he reſiſt fortune? being

ouerthrowne, how Heroically did he encounter with

death? This our detracting Chroniclers cannot but

acknowledge: for ſo high, ſo powerful was his mag-

nanimity, that (in ſpight of malice) it preuaileth, and

(like the Sunne) breaketh thorow the miſty clouds

of his aduerſaries ſlaunders: was it a fault to with-

ſtand the Lancaſtrian heires claime? then thoſe are

faulty, who being in poſſeſſion of lands, to proue

good their title, proſecute ſuites, and are ouerthrown

by the lawe: for the ſentence of iudgement makes

them to perceiue that to be an errour, which before

they imagined none. Beſides, he knew well, that his

kingdome & life had both one period, to which life

he was perſwaded his Competitor had no right, and

therefore he would neuer be guilty of ſuch a ſinne (as

wilfully to betray it) till he which had lent it him re-

quired repayment.

       Had his life, his actions been moſt abominable;

yet (like a ſlaue) to haue yeelded his throate to the

execution, would haue been an imputation beyond

all other imputations: but could he as openly haue

manifeſted his other vertues, as he did his valor and

policy, the worlds opinion had been otherwiſe, and

I neither had taken ſuch paines to defend his inno-

cency, nor in ſome weake iudgements to endanger

mine owne. But ſurely he did couragiouſly and va-

liantly withſtand his enemies, with great expedition

rallying his forces, and performing all things with

wonderfull celerity, he went to encounter the diſtur-

bers of his quiet.

       It is reported, that, the night before the day of

battaile, he dreamed a moſt a dreadfull and horrible                        ||

                                       E<r>

dreame, which by our Chroniclers is interpreted to

be a teſtimony of his wicked and tyrannous life. Did

not Cæſar, b before he attained the Empire, dreame

that he knew his owne Mother carnally? had not

both Dion and Brutus the figures of terrible ſpirits

repreſented vnto them, the night before their end?

and yet theſe were reputed good men, and louers

and protectors of their Countrie; and becauſe king

Richard dreamed with ſome terrour, muſt his life of

neceſſitie be euill? O vaine! O friuolous obiection!

but they hold this dreame to be a compunction of

his conſcience: happy Prince to haue ſo indiſcreete

ſlaunderers; for how could they more truly witneſſe

his integrity? ſince onely they which reuerence and

feare God, and indued with that inquiring conſci-

ence, which cenſureth their actions: for they which

are giuen ouer to a reprobate ſence, and inſenſible

of that good Angell, which ſeeketh by telling vs our

faults, to make vs repent our ſinnes paſt, and to bee

wary, leſt we commit any more.

       Surely, I thinke, his conſcience (like a glaſſe) pre-

ſented before him the figures of all his actions;

which he faithfully examining, humbly craued par-

don for his miſdeeds: and ſo hauing made atone-

ment with God, like a deuout Penitentiary ſetled his

minde, he went with alacrity to the bloudy Court,

where the cauſe of his life was to be tryed: where

his ſword being his Aduocate, pleaded moſt vali-

antly. In all which tumult, he failed neither in diſ-

cretion, nor in execution, but boldly encouraged his

Souldiers, both by word and example.

       There is extant in our Chronicles, an a Oration,

which at that time he made to his Souldiers, where-                         ||

                                       <Ev>

in he confeſſeth his errors, and deſireth pardon of all

the world, ad he hoped his repentant teares had ob-

tained mercy of God.

       What a Saint-like thing was this, for a King, to

craue forgiueneſſe of ſubiects? for a Generall, to

humble himſelfe to his Souldiers? What could it be

but the effect of a more diuine, then terrene vnder-

ſtanding? If (like the common faſhion of men) he

would haue put his affiance in humane aſſiſtance,

and neglected his God, he might (in common rea-

ſon) haue promiſed himſelfe the victory: being dou-

ble in forces, and nothing inferior, either in valor or

policy; but hee acknowledged and confeſſed the

power of the moſt powerful: he knew that it was not

the multitude of men, but God, that giueth the vi-

ctory. And therefore hauing firſt made peace with

his owne ſoule, he humbled himſelfe, and asked par-

don of thoſe, ouer whom he had gouernment: know-

ing no gouernment to be ſo perfect, wherein ſome

good men are not offended.

       This was the effect of his compunction; to put

him in remembrance, that Princes are mortall, and

that his being a King, bound him to a more ſtrict

reckoning, then one that enioyeth a leſſer Farme.

Now whether this mercifull remembrance of God

diſgraceth him, iudge ye that haue grace. But now

(both battailes being ioyned) what did this valiant

King? Did he onely ſtand to giue directions to o-

thers? No, he did rigorous execution with his ſword

vpon his enemies.

       Did he, when he perceiued ſome of his Subiects

diſloyally to reuolt, and that his forces were put to

the worſt, thinke vpon yeelding or flight? Though                            ||

                                     E2<r>

by ſome of his faithfulleſt ſeruants he was counſai-

led to flie, and for that purpoſe preſented with a

Horſe of wonderfull ſpeed, yet hee would not: for

hauing been inured to conqueſt, he ſcorned to yeeld:

hauing been a King, he would not die a vaſſall; and

therefore, becauſe the garland was a Crowne, the

prize a Kingdome; victory, Maieſtie, and perpetual

renowne the reward, this Lyon-hearted King cou-

ragiouſly charging his ſpeare, ran into the Battalion

of his aduerſaries; where, with his owne hands hee

ſlew the ſtout a Sir William Brandon, Standard-bea-

rer of his enemy: he ouerthrew the ſtrong and va-

liant Sir Iohn Cheney, and ſingled out his Competi-

tour: who beeing the moſt Heroick and valiant

Prince of thoſe times, yet had doubtleſſe been ſlaine,

had not he been reſcued by S. William Stanley, who

came happily with three thouſand men to his reſ-

cue, who on all ſides encompaſſing King Richard, ſo

aſſayled him, that though he did more then a man,

though his Sword acted wonders, yet beeing op-

preſſed by ſo great a multitude, hee was there man-

fully ſlaine; not ouercome, for hee conquered the

betraiers of men in danger, paſſion, and feare.

       Thus loſt he both kingdome and life, but nothing

diminiſhed his interiour vertues: When the adiud-

ged puniſhment is performed, our Laws do account

the offender as cleere of the crime, as if he neuer had

committed it. Why ſhould this common benefit be

denied a King, ſince if guilty, his bloud made reſti-

tution, and being dead, his royall body was diſpoy-

led of all kingly ornaments, left naked, and not only

vnroyally, but inhumanely, and reprochfully drag-

ged? Yet neither can his bloud redeeme him from                            ||

                                  <E2v>

iniuriour tongues, nor the reproch offered his bo-

dy, be thought cruell enough, but that we muſt ſtill

make him more cruelly infamous in Pamphlets and

Playes. Compare him now (iudicious Reader) im-

partially with other Princes; iudge truely of all their

actions, their forme of gouernment, and their Sta-

tutes and ordinances, the vpholders, the ſtrenght,

the ſinewes of gouernment; and thou ſhalt find him

as innocent of cruelty, extortion, and tyranny as the

moſt; as wiſe, politike, and valiant as any: if ſo,

cenſure him, his actions, his ordinances, according

  to their deſerts, and this Treatiſe of mine as a

       charitable well-wiſhing to a ſcandalized

                     and defamed king.

                                 * *

                                   *

Yet for all this know, I hold this but a Paradox.

                             FINIS.

                              E3<r>

a Rich. D. of

Yorke, father of

Edw. the fourth

George D. of

Clarence, &

Rich. the third.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b Edw. E. of

March, eldeſt

ſonne of R. D.

of Yorke, after K.

by the name of

Edw. the fourth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c For the Duke-

dome of Yorke,

as his right, fro

his father D. of

Yorke.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

d K. Henry the

ſixth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

e Rich. Neuile

Earle of War-

wick, ſirnamed

the King-maker

[Cornwallis’s own note]

f K. Edward

the fourth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

g Lady Eliz.

Gray, widow of

sir Iohn Gray

Knight, after-

ward married to

K. Edward the fourth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

h Lady Bona,

Neece to the

French King

Lewes the ele-

uenth, & daugh-

ter to Lewes

D. of Sauoy.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

i For he had got

her with child.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

k George D. of

Clarence, ſecōd

brother of K.

Ed. the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

l Hee married

Iſabell, daugh-

ter of Richard

Neuill Earle of

Warwicke.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

m He was drow

ned in a Malm-

ſey butt in the

Tower.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

n Edw. Prince

of Wales, ſonne

of K. Henrie

the 6. ſlaine af-

ter the battaile

of Tewkſbury.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

o The death of

Henrie the 6. in

the Tower.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a The death of

K. Ed. the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b King Edward

Prince of Wales

ſon to K. Ed. the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c Richard D.

of Glouceſter

made Protector.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

d Richard D. of

Yorke, younger

ſon of Edward

the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

e Hen. Stafford

D. of Bucking-

ham.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

f Wil. L. Haſt-

ings, Chamber-

laine to Edward

the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

g Phil. de Có-

mines, Lord of

Argenton in

his Hiſtorie.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a Mary ſole

daughter and

heire of Charles

D. of Burgūdy,

after married to

Maximilian the

Emperour.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c Shores wife.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

d Doct. Shaes

Sermon at Pauls

Croſſe.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

Sir Philip Sid-

ney in his de-

fence of Poetry.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

f The Coronati-

on of K. Richard

the third.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a The two diſ-

ſenting factions

of Yorke and

Lancaſter, vni-

ted by the mari-

age of Henry

the ſeuenth to

Eliz. eldeſt

daughter to

Edw. the fourth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b Lewes the 11.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c Barwick won

from the Scots

by Richard the

third.

[Corwallis’s own note]

d The death of

Prince Edward,

& Richard D.

of Yorke in the

Tower,

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a A King not to

bee condemned,

but by a Iury of

Kings.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b Anne Wife of

K. Richard the

3. daughter of

Ri. Neuill E.

of War. & wid-

ow of Prince

Edward, ſon to

Henry the 6.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c To Henry the

6. and Edward

the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a The wife frō

whome hee was

diuorced, was

Ioane, daugh-

ter of Lewes the

12. ſister of

Charles the 8.

Gui. Lib. 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b The death of

Anne wife of

Richard the 3

and ſecōd daught

er of Richard

Neuill Earle of

Warwicke.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c Collingborn

executed for

Treaſon, not li-

belling.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

d The Lady Eli-

zabeth eldeſt

daughter to

Edw. the fourth,

after wife to

Henry the ſe-

uenth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a This Moretō

was after in the

reigne of Henry

the ſeuenth

Archbiſhop of

Canterbury, Car-

dinall and Lord

Chancellor of

England.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b The death of

Henry Stafford

D. of Bucking-

ham beheaded

at Shrewsbury.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c Margaret

Counteſſe of

Richmond, wife

of Thomas L.

Stanley, mo-

ther of K. Hen-

ry the ſeuenth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a Q. Elizabeth

mother to Eli-

zabeth, eldest

daughter of

Edward the

fourth, and

Marg. Coun.

of Rich. mother

to Henry the

ſeuenth, after

King.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b Yorke and

Lancaſter.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

c Tho. L. Stan-

ly, after by Hen.

the ſeuenth cre-

ated E. of Darby.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

d George Lord

Strange, ſon &

heire to Tho. L.

Stanley.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

e Henry the 7.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a K. Rich. dream

the night before

the battaile of

Boſworth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

b Plutarch in

the life of Cæ-

ſar, Dion and

Brutus.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a The Oration

of King Richard

Holinſheds

Chronicle in the end

of his reigne.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

a S. Wil. Bran-

don Standard-

bearer to Henry

the 7. ſlaine. He

was father to

Charles Bran-

don, after crea-

ted D. of Suff.

by Henry the 8.

[Cornwallis’s own note]