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THat Princes are naturally ambi- tious, and that Ambition makes them to effect their deſires, rather then to affect the equitie of their deſignes, may more truely 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. Wee hold (not without reaſon) that if the bill of the Plain- tineffe be ſtuffed with friuolous aſſertions, that the com- plaint ſauoureth more of malice, then of wrong. Why ſhould not the ſame Axiome be a motiue to cleare this wronged Prince, whoſe accuſers lay to his charge the anguiſh his mother felt, when he came into the world? then which accuſation what can be more fri- uolous; it being a puniſhment hereditary to all wo- men, from the firſt? His being toothed as ſoone as borne, ſeemes to me rather a bleſſing, then any impu- tation, as being a preſage of his future worthineſſe, and as all Nurſes will confeſſe, an eaſe of much paine || A2<r>
and danger. But he was crook-backt, lame, il-ſhapen, il-fououred. I might impute that fault to Nature, but that I rather think it her bounty: for ſhe being whol- ly intentiue to his minde, neglected his forme, ſo that ſhe infuſed a ſtraight mind in a crooked body, where- in 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 lameneſſe turned to his glory; for with thoſe imperfect limbes he performed actions moſt perfectly valiant. How rightly his Father a claimed, his brother b ob- tained the Scepter, is ſufficiently knowne, and there- fore ſuperfluous and impertinent: and alſo how his brother dusked his right (if right) by abrogating the oath, which hee ſware at Yorke, that his com- ming in armes was onely for that Dukedome. c But to dilate how variable and inconſtant the people of thoſe times were, ſhall be more neceſſary and effe- ctuall, that knowing their inconſtancy, their traditi- ons (like themſelues) may the leſſe be beleeued: ſo light-headed, ſo fooliſh, ſo irreligious, as their opi- nion (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, depoſed, after reſtored; not as deſiring, (being guilty of their owne fault) but one- ly that it ſtood with the liking of Warwicke the childe 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 traditions, then reſute their obiections, || <A2v>
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 do; making all his ill-eſtimated acti- ons of an other nature. He obtained the Crowne, but rather fortunately, then wiſely, were not all wiſedom 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 re- ſpect of his height, baſe: a widow, g and of his enemy, without bringing him either alliance, or riches; props moſt pertinent to his new-erected buildings. Where- in, deſides his breach of regall diſcretion, with his chie- feſt friend the Earle of Warwick, whom he had ſent in- to France, to treat of marriage betweene him and the Lady Bona, h (wherein being deluded, he became his mortalleſt enemie) his abuſe to God was more abo- minable; being before betrothed (as his owne mother conſtantly affirmed) to the Lady Elizabeth Lucy: in teſtimonie whereof he had laid ſuch earneſt, i as ſhould haue bound any common man, much more a King, to performance. How ſoone the wrath of God fol- lowed this his irreligious inconſtancie, his being dri- uen from the Seate-Royall into exile; the birth of his ſonne in a Sanctuary; (hauing no place elſe of free- dome in his Fathers kingdome) the miſerie of all his partakers ſufficiently teſtifie. In which generall miſe- rie, who did more truly follow him? Who more faithfully ayded him, then his now diſgraced Bro- ther? Whereas his other Brother k Clarence not only left him, but ioyned in marriage l with the daughter || A3<r>
of his principall enemie, and holpe to expulſe him: with what loue, what conſtancie, his indeauours, his aduenturing his life to reſtore him, doth witneſſe. Neuer was he noted all the life of K. Edward, to thirſt after Kingdome; neuer denied he any com- mandement of his Prince, but performed all his im- ployments diſcreetly, valiantly, ſuccesfully. The ſu- ſpition of helping his Brother Clarence to m his end, was but a ſuſpition, ſince the Kings old diſpleaſure a- waked by a new Propheſie, was vndoubttedly the cauſe; if otherwiſe (when he after repented him) hee would haue miſliked of Glouceſter, it being naturall to ſinne; but vnnaturall, to eaſe others of their crimes. For the killing of the Heire of the houſe of Lancaſter at Tewksburie, n (if ſo) ſeemes to me, rather the effect of loue to his Brother, then cruelty to the Prince: for he was an enemie, yea, the chiefe and principall ene- mie of the contrary faction. Yet it cannot be proued the action of Richard, but that it was an act wiſhed by the King to be done, and executed in both their pre- ſences, by the Duke of Clarence, the Marqueſſe Dor- ſet, the Lord Haſtings and others. The death of Henry o the 6. in the Tower, can no way belong to him, ſince the ſame reaſon that clea- reth his Brother, fitteth him; he being able, if deſiring his death, to haue effected it by a more vnworthie hand. And indeed this accuſation hath no other proofe, then a malicious affirmation. For many (more truly) did ſuppoſe that he died of meere melancholy and griefe, when hee 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 re- || <A3v>
quited, as might haue moued a true louer of Rewards more then of Vertue, to haue altered his endeauours; whether it were a iealouſie of the Nobilitie of his blood, or of the height of his ſpirit, whether the abun- dance of affection to be 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, dayly to riſe, meerely without deſert, but that they were of her kin- dred; and their baſeneſſe being thus ſodainly exalted, not only to plucke from him promotions, due to his deſerts, but to enuie the Duke, & contend with him; how inſupportable it muſt be to ſo magnanimious a ſpirit, whoſe memory beare witneſſe of their vnwor- thineſſe, his owne worth, any like ſpirit may imagine. Thus continued this vnequall contention, vntill the King, ſent for defore the great a King of Kings, to make an account of his greatneſſe, left his body, to teſtifie the worlds folly in contending for Worlds, when one little part of the earth muſt containe them. b His ſucceſſour at that time very young, was wholy poſſeſſed by the mothers bloud, whom the c now Protector had great reaſon to feare, being euer his mortall enemie, and now moſt ſtrong, by being moſt neerely allied to this Prince: Therefore iealous of his owne preſeruation, of the ſafetie of the Common- weale, and of the ancient Nobilitie, with great reaſon and iuſtice he executed them, whom, if he had ſuffe- red to liue, were likely enough to haue beene the de- ſtruction of him, it, and them. But the deed accom- pliſhed, ſtirred vp no little feare in the Queene-Mo- ther, and her faction: For the Queenes taking San- ctuarie with her younger ſonne d Richard Duke of || <A4r>
Yorke, without any cauſe that he knew, draue Glouce- ſter to ſuppose that they doubted of their right, and put him in poſſibility of obtaining his owne: where- in by ambitious e Buckingham hee was aſſiſted, who then related to him afreſh the vnlawfull Marriage of his Brother, that being vnlawfull, conſequently his children were baſtards, & ſo vndoubtedly the Crown was lawfully his; to which diſcourſe he annexed pro- teſtations of furtherance, though (perhaps) an earth- ly ſpirit would not haue been moued with theſe mo- tiues, but rather haue deſired ſafety, then Soueraign- tie: yet in a true Heroicke ſpirit, whoſe affect is aſpi- ring, they could not but be imbraced, vſing the wings of Time, to bring him to that height. Be not obſti- nate (Mortalitie) againſt this climing Axiome, for hourely you commit 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 hee permitted by occaſion. The Queene-Mothers feare, his own right, Buckinghams ayde, and his owne iealouſie to erect a Prince, too young to gouerne himſelfe, much leſſe o- thers, but was likely to be 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 forti- fie their new Nobility, could not but draw a true diſ- cerning ſpirit, to fauour himſelfe, to protect the anci- ent Nobility, to defend the people from being wa- ſted, and oppreſſed by the ambition and tyrannie of new vnexperienced Statiſts, and to reſpect hiw owne preſeruation, rather then others. For well he ſaw hee || <A4v>
could not liue, vnleſſe he were a King: that there was no ſafety, but in Soueraignty. Should I put thee in choyſe (condemning Reader) whether thou wouldeſt not be, rather then be King; thou wouldeſt perhaps anſwere no: but that anſwere ſhould proceede, rather from the knowledge of thy want of power to Roy- allize thee, then through the abundance of thy mo- deſtie. No, no, it is a deſire beſitting the moſt wor- thie 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 ap- prehended, but executed. The not leiſurely procee- ding by forme of Law, may ſeeme to plead Haſtings innocencie, the Protectors cruelty. But they that con- ſider the nature of the people of that time, apt to ſe- dition, greedy of innouation, and likely to be glad of ſo pittifull a colour (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 innocent, whom g Commines reporteth to be a Penſioner of the French King, Lewis the II. the onely ſubtill Prince of that time? Hee, of all others, that moſt affected tyrannie, and was naturally the mortall enemie of this King- dome? Or was hee fit to be a States-man or Coun- ſailor, who being corrupted by the bribes of an ene- mie, had diſſwaded his Maſter, the late King Edward the 4. from aſſiſting the oppreſſed Lady h the heire of Burgundie, againſt Lewes the French King, whereby || B<r>
that Lady was driuen to ſeeke ayde elſe-where, who, otherwiſe, was likely to haue married with the Duke of Clarence, or ſome other Engliſh Prince, and ſo to haue vnited that Dukedome to this Crowne, to the eternall benefit and ſecurity of both Countries; who gloried in his priuate reuenges, who not only enticed his Maſter, but accompanied him in all ſenſuality: who in the deflowring of mens wiues, i and ſuch o- ther his vnprincelike actions, was his perpetuall at- tendant, and ſometimes (as it is thought) would be- gin to him? k Doctor Shaes Sermon not a little illu- ſtrates 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 be ſaid: Then how do our Chroniclers report it for truth, were not their malice greater then either their truth, or their iudge- ment? But they are Hiſtorians, and muſt be beleeued. Alas, poore men, how would they be beleeued, whoſe greateſt authorities (as a learned and honora- ble Knight writeth) are built vpon the notable foun- dation of heare-ſay? men that haue much ayd to ac- cord differing writers, and to picke truth out of par- tiality. But it is not mentioned, that Shaw euer exe- cuted this action, with alleaging him to be the cauſe. It is likely indeed, that Shaw being ambitious, gaping after preferment, ſuppoſing ſome ſuch intent in the Protector (as he had a reaching head) was bold to ſet his Rethorick to ſale, to publiſh his fancies: but ſee- ing his hopes vaniſh into ſmoke, and his expectation deluded, ſeeing the Protector neither rewarded, nor regarded his Rethorick, he ſoone after languiſhed and died: a iuſt example to teach Theologians ſo boldly to || <Bv>
intermeddle with Princes affaires, before they bee commanded: for (doubtleſſe) had the Protector ſet him a worke, he would haue payed him his hire. But if it were ſo, that he commanded the Sermon (as that is yet vnproued) was that an offence to make the peo- ple ſo publikely partakers of his right; yea, to proſti- tute his cauſe to their iudgements? for charging his Mother with adulterie, was a matter of no ſuch great moment, ſince it is no wonder in that ſexe: And ſure- ly hee had more reaſon to aduenture her fame, then his Kingdome, decauſe of two euils it is wiſedome to chuſe the leaſt. If it were true, it was no iniuſtice to publiſh it; and could be expected from him, but true Iuſtice, who was ſo impartiall, that he would not ſpare his owne Mother? if vntrue; good faith, he was there- in too blame, and her innocencie the more meritori- ous; but certaine it is, the people approued his right: for he was crowned m with ſuch conſent, and ſo great applauſe both of Peeres and people, that if wee will iudge by the outward behauiour (the onely marke our iudgements may or can leuell at) we muſt deter- mine them ſo contented, as no actions which might teſtifie the ſatisfaction of their mindes, were omitted: ſurely, if euer the vniudiciall 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 forraine ſeditions? For theſe ciuill diſſenſions had almoſt waſted and made deſolate this populous Nation: diſcreet he was and temperate, (two ſo rare & excellent qualities, as he that truly poſſeſſeth them, meriteth the poſſeſſion of a Diademe:) for in theſe vertues, ioyned with that Cardinall vertue Fortitude || B2<r>
(whereof alſo he had a very large portion) conſiſteth the ſoule of Soueraigntie, which whoſoeuer wanteth (be hee a while neuer ſo powerfull) his owne great- neſſe ſo cruſheth him, that hee forfeiteth all in a mo- ment: Moſt liberall he was, deſiring rather to want, then to ſuffer worth vnrewarded: and this liberalitie is the onely true Nurſe, and foſterer of Vertue; ver- tue vnrewarded being vnſenſible, our fleſh being go- uerned, aduiſed, yea maſtered by our ſenſes: this wor- thie, this Princely ornament ſome calumniators haue ſought in him to deface, alleadging; that his liberality to ſome, proceeded from his extortion from others: but euen thoſe cannot denie him to haue beene poli- ticke and wiſe; then is it likely that a Prince of his wiſedome and policie, could not deſcerne betweene the worthy and vnworthy? And to take from vn- deſeruers, to beſtow vpon deſeruers, muſt be acknow- ledged a vertue. He was neither luxurious, nor an Epicure, not gi- uen to any ryot, 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) he was largely intereſſed in vertues, (their con- traries;) but thoſe (through malice) are either not re- giſtred, 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 becommeth vicious himſelfe. But in all that I haue hitherto a- mong the vulgar obſerued: Culpatur factum, non ob aliud, quam exitum: They approue, or diſproue al things by the euent; || <B2v>
which though ſomtimes it proueth like the cauſe, yet it is more often gouerned by the will of the diuine prouidence. And ſurely, but that the gracious good- neſſe of God to manifeſt the weaknes of humane po- licie, ouerthrew his deſignes, tooke from him his king- dome; and contrary eyther to mans hope, or our me- rit, vnited by a bleſſed and happy coniunction g the two diſſenting factions, to the true eſtabliſhing of ſweet peace & proſperitie 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 beene no more iniuri- ous to him, then to his predeceſſors, the fourth Henry and Edward, whoſe raignes were polluted with much more Royall blood: for he omitted nothing, that in wiſdome or true 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 ſer- uice of God? the worſhip of Religion? the good of his Country? Yea, I haue heard of ſome, accounted both good Lawyers and good Statiſts; that in thoſe three years of his gouernment, there were more good Sta- tutes for the weale-publike enacted, then in 30. years before. He was no taxer of the people, no oppreſſor of the Commons, though he came to manage an E- ſtate whoſe treaſure was exceedingly exhauſted; no ſuppreſſor of his ſubiects, to ſatisfie either licentious humours, or to inrich light-headed flatterers. But (alas) who robs vertue, but ingratitude, detraction & malice? what a curſe is it to Mortalitie, that no faſhion of life, no merits, no regards can free Princes from diſcontentments in their life, and infamy after death? || B3<r>
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 he cared, laboured, and omitted nothing that might profit, cōmitted nothing that might preiudice them. This, the charge and commandement that he gaue preſently after his Coronation, to the Lords and Gentlemen (whom hee ſent home into their Coun- tries) that they ſhould in their Countries ſee Iuſtice duely adminiſtred and impartially, (that no wrong, nor extortion ſhould be done to his ſubiects) doth teſtifie; this his lawes, and all his actions approue: yet neyther the care of his Countrey, his lawes, nor acti- ons are thought to be ſufficient to plead his equitie and innocencie: for malicious credulitie rather em- braceth the partiall writings of indiſcreet Chroni- clers, and witty Play-makers, then his Lawes and actions, the moſt innocent, and impartiall witneſſes. It is laid to his charge (as a maine obiection) that he was ambitious, let vs examine the truth of this ac- cuſation. Was he ambitious, who was onely content with the limits of his owne Country? who ſought to be rather famous for inſtituting of good lawes, then for atchieuing great conqueſts? No, no, he wanted no- thing to make him an accompliſhed Prince, but that hee was not ambitious enough: for had hee imitated that worthy King Henry the 5. who in a like vnſetled eſtate, led out the Nobilitie and people to make wars vpon forraine enemies, to make conqueſt of France, and to embrue their warlike ſwords (lately bloudied againſt one another) in the bloud & bowels of ſtran- gers, he might (perhaps) haue had a fortunate ſuc- ceſſe: for he wanted not the like title, he was no leſſe || <B3v>
valiant, no leſſe politicke. So might he haue re-con- quered that kingdome, and thoſe Territories, which by the piſillanimity of ſome of his Predeceſſors were giuen away and loſt; and (peraduenture) ſo buſied that ſtirring heads of the Nobilitie and people, that they ſhould haue had no leaſure to thinke vpon any Innouation or part-taking at home: ſo might he hap- pily haue ſecured himſelfe, & inlarged the bounds of his conquesſts beyond any of his Anceſtors. What lets or obſtacles could hinder him from thoſe glorious enterpriſes? His Subiects were warlike, trained vp in armes; ſomewhat too much exerciſed in bloud, be- cauſe it was in their owne. His neighbors, the French, were gouerned by h a King, who had ſome policie, but ſo little valour, that he would rather yeeld to any Ca- pitulation, then heare the ſound of an aduerſaries Drumme. So that his people being vnured to wars, were eaſily to be conquered by that Nation which had ſo often beaten them in the height of their daring. The Scots, their colleagues, hee had already beene victorious ouer: his name among them was growne terrible. For in the time of his brother hee wan from them many Caſtles and Holds: but principally hee conquered i Barkwick, the chiefe & principall towne vpon their frontiers, a piece of ſpeciall importance, either to make eaſie our entrance into that kingdom, or to keepe them from inuading ours: ſo that I can- not iuſtly accuſe him of any crime ſo much, as that his ambition ſtretched not farre enough. To iuſtifie his aduerſaries accuſation, in this time chanced the death of his two young k Nephewes in the Tower, whoſe deaths promiſing quiet to him, and wholly im- poſed vpon him, how truely I haue reaſon to doubt; || <B4r>
becauſe his accuſers are ſo violent, & 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 ver- tues: his Humilitie they terme ſecret Pride: his Libe- ralitie Prodigalitie: his Valour, Crueltie and blood- thirſtineſſe: yet in theſe dayes, their partiall opinions are thought to be of validity ſufficient, to make proofe of any imputation: But if it were ſo, that their 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 he demonſtrate his loue more amply, then to aduenture his ſoule for their quiet? But who knoweth, whether it were not Gods ſecret iudge- ment, to puniſh the fathers tranſgreſſion in the chil- dren? and if it be ſo, complaine of their Fate, not Richards crueltie: (for in theſe fatall things it fals out, that the High-working powers, make ſecond cauſes vnwittingly acceſſarie to their determinations) yet, in policie, Princes neuer account Competitors (how young ſoeuer) innocent, ſince the leaſt colour of right prouokes innouating humours to ſtirre vp ſedi- tion, which (once kindled) threatens the ſubuerſion, both of Princes and ſubiects. And if ſome wiſe and politike Princes haue impri- ſoned, and put to death, ſuch as haue beene reputed their Heires and Succeſſors, becauſe ſome factious heads (weary of good gouernment, and hoping for authoritie by alteration) haue ſought to eſtabliſh them before their times; (as commonly giddy-brai- ned people doe more reuerence the Suns riſing then his fall) had not King Richard great reaſon to depriue || <B4v>
them of their liues, who were not to ſucceede him, but (in many mens iudgements) had moſt right to be inue- ſted before him with the diadem? And (indeed) the re- mouing ſuch occaſions of ciuill wars in a well-ruled common-wealth, is moſt profitable, moſt commenda- ble; being no crueltie, but pitty, a iealouſie of their Subiects, and a zealous regard of their own ſafeties. And (indeed) if we duly conſider, how much the duty we owe to a country exceeds all other duties, ſince in it ſelfe it containes them all, that for the reſpect there- of, not onely all tender reſpects of kindred, or what- ſoeuer other reſpects of friendſhip, are to be laid a- ſide; but that euen long-held opinions (rather groun- ded 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 re- ckoning, then the thing thereto directed, that there- fore the weale-publike is more to be regarded, then any perſon or Magiſtrate that thereunto is ordained: The feeling conſideration hereof moued K. Richard to ſet principally before his eyes the good eſtate of ſo many thouſands, ouer whom he had raigned, rather then ſo to hood-winke himſelfe with affection, as to ſuffer his Realme to runne to manifeſt ruine. If any man ſhall obiect that his courſe was ſtrange and vnlawfull; let him know that new neceſſities re- quire new remedies, and for him there was no reme- die, but this one. Then if for this action hee ought to be condemned, it is for indiſcretion in the managing; for as ſafely might he haue had the Realmes generall conſent, in diſpoſing of their liues as of their King- dome. Had he held a ſecret execution beſt, hee might haue effected it more ſecretly: but he rather choſe a || C<r>
middle way, content to let the people know it, hold- ing 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 ſhewed any diſlike. And (truely) ſuch is the dif- ference betweene the thoughts and actions, the diſ- poſitions of Princes and Subiects, that I hold no Sub- iect ſufficiently iudiciall to cenſure them: their cour- ſes ſo vnlike, that what is meet, expedient in a Prince, in a lower fortune is vtterly vnmeete, vnexpedient. Therefore let no ſeruile condition aduenture to con- demne them, ſince all ſuch eyes loſe their faculty, if they but gaze againſt the Sunne of Maieſtie. It is ſuf- ficient for vs to know how to obey; this Nature com- mandeth and exacteth of vs: but to ſearch into the actions of our Commanders, dilates more curioſitie then honeſty: Nay, though wee would, we cannot: for our knowledge extends to things equall, or infe- riour; thoſe aboue vs, in Diuinitie, are comprehen- ded onely by faith; in terrene matters (if ſuperating our eſtates) they are only ſnatched at by ſuppoſition. And this our Lawes approue, which appoint euery man to be tryed by his Peeres: ſhall then the head, the director of ciuill policie, the annoynted Maieſtie of a King, be barred from the right allowed to Subiects? No (ſurely) it is prepoſterous, moſt vnlawfull to con- demne a King if not found faulty by a a Iury of kings. Were man in his innocencie, this aduice were not loſt: but being nouſled in miſuſing of his malicious tongue, euer to condemne others, neuer to amend themſelues, it is (as they will be for their abuſe) per- petually loſt; No more then for them. || <Cv>
Let vs yet further cleare this wronged Prince: It is conſtantly affirmed (ſay our Chroniclers) that hee firſt noyſed, after, contriued the death of his Wife: b and that it was bruited before it was effected, there- by with her ſorrowes to confirme the report. This euidence they adiudge pregnant & effectuall enough to condemne him: Did Fame neuer lye? What are more generally receiued for vntruths, then flying re- ports, ſeeing no creature ſenſible will giue credit to Fame, or take her word without a ſurety, whom they may aſſuredly know to be credible? But conſtantly (ſay our Chroniclers.) Could their words be ſo con- ſtant, whoſe actions were the very ſtage of inconſtan- cie, 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 Oaths? But I will ſpend no more time in prouing the vanitie of theſe Chroniclers, ſince their owne penne contradicts it ſelfe; firſt, ſhewing the af- fections of this people to be mutinous, and after ap- prouing 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, deeming (as women are euer fearefull) this prophe- ticall relation to be the forerunner of her end: which bewayling 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 || C2<r>
the 12. (bacauſe d his wiſe was barren, and crooked backt) ſue a diuorce, & obtained it from Pope Alex- ander the ſixt, & afterward by his Diſpenſation mar- ried with Anne Dutcheſſe of Britaine, the widdow of his Predeceſſor Charles the 8? Might not King Ri- chard haue done the like: for he had the like cauſe (his wiſe being barren) whereof he had often complained to Rotheram then Archbiſhop of Yorke? And the Popes of thoſe times were not ſo nice conſcioned to deny Princes ſuch requeſts, but were eaſily wonne thereunto either by fauour or rewards: therefore that he contriued her death, was a ſlanderous, falſe, & ab- ſurd accuſation; but her e time was come, which Mor- talitie might ſorrow, but ſorrow might not preuent, Death being 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 Atturny, who had highly offended him) hee labou- red to winwe the one ſort with benefits and rewards, and freely pardoned the others miſbehauiours and offences: He had no cauſe to feare Fogg, therefore Feare was not the cauſe: No, it was a worthy, a kingly humilitie, that would rather abate of his great- neſſe, then to haue it ſtayned with the blood of ſo meane a vaſſaile, for a crime committed againſt himſelfe; yet was hee guiltie of counterfeiting his Royall hand and Signet, and of a moſt vntrue and infamous libell. Therefore how falſely doe our Chro- niclers ſeeke to cleare Collingborne, who was (as may appeare by his Inditement) f executed for Treaſon againſt the State, nor for that ryming, fooliſh, ridi- culous Libell? for neyther they, nor any other can || <C2v>
euer proue, that euer he reuenged any iniurie what- ſoeuer, committed particularly againſt himſelfe. For the good and ſafety of his kingdome and people, hee was zealous, he was feruent: for, only 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 reconciliation, he often ſolicited it, at the laſt hee effected it: This rare, this excellent worke of Chriſtianity, this true cog- nizance of a Religious Queene, our Chroniclers 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 iudge- ment, making experience moſt precious, moſt cheape: For Knowledge, Iudgement, and Experience are dearely purchaſed, when wee muſt wander into infi- nite 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, wax- ing rotten, ere they grow ripe. The end and ſcope of this reconciliation was, to vnite himſelfe in marri- age with his d Niece: a contract (no dubt) incon- uenient, and prohibited the Vulgar; but amongſt States-men it is like to produce infinite good, both to Prince and people. It is an inconuenience, moſt con- uenient, nothing ſtrange,becauſe vſuall, and accuſto- med amongſt Princes: tolerated, yea allowed by their receiued Oracle of Diuinity, the Pope, who conſide- ring the cauſe, ordinarily diſpenſeth with the Conſan- || C3<r>
guinity. It is granted that this deſire of marriage was mentioned by this King, in reſpect of the publike peace; to make ſatisfaction to the Mother, in exalting the daughter, for the deiecting of the Sonnes, and to auoide the effuſion of much of the peoples bloud, which was likely to be ſpilt, if his Niece ſhould marry elſe-where: as if (ſay our Chroniclers) the firſt could not be eſtabliſhed, the latter auoided without this Platforme of Policie; No, had not Gods ſecret work- ing beene beyond mans wiſeſt apprehenſion, it could not: for well he knew the head-ſtrong obſtinacie of this people could hardly be kept in awe by a man, therfore impoſſible to be reſtrained by children: this made him diſpoſſeſſe them of their Kingdome, and (peraduenture) of their liues: for had they beene ſuf- fered to liue, they would euer haue bin the fire-brands of new ſeditions; and therfore he thought it more conuenient, they ſhould be quenched with their own blouds, then with the blouds of infinite numbers of the people; yet to make ſatisfaction for this wrong, (if it were a wrong to depriue the diſturbers of the com- mon good) he was contended and much laboured to marry their Siſter, his Niece: but hee is therefore ad- iudged ill: why? becauſe his accuſers would be repu- ted good, though (without doubt) hee was a good Prince, and they all, or the moſt part of all, euill, phan- taſticke, and ſeditious people. And euen at this day, though the fortunate and ſucceſſefull gouernment of our later Princes, hath ſomewhat altered their na- tures, & bettered their conditions; yet it were a leſſe difficult queſt to find one good man, then many. But it pleaſed not the diuine ordainer of marriage to permit that coniunction, but rather to ſet a Period at once to his kingdome and life. || <C3v>
About the time of the plotting of this mariage, the iudiciall Buckingham, (not thinking himſelfe ſuffici- ently regarded) grew diſcontent, and got the Princes fauour to retire himſelf into the Country; where (no doubt) his fantaſtick melancholly would ſoone haue vaniſhed (being a man more happy in the inheritance of his father, then in the legacie of Nature, diſcretion, or iudgment) had not the Priſoner corrupted the Iay- lour: 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 ſodainly he brought him to kindle a fire of rebellion, and to take vp armes againſt his Soueraigne: This K. Richard ſoone hearing, he proſecuted him as an enemy, and ſo laboured (what by his owne wiſdome, what by his eſpecials) that within a while he tooke his head from his b 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 in- nocent, and Magiſtrates and Iudges guilty of tranſ- greſſion. And had this been the action of ſome other Prince, it had beene good, iuſt, neceſſary; but being his, it is cenſured the contrary; ſo that ſinne is not ſin, nor vertue accounted vertue, by their owne natures or effects, but are made vertues or vices, by the loue or hate that is borne to the committer: ſuch is our humane vnderſtanding, as they rather confound all things, then by diſtinguiſhing them to make choiſe of the worthieſt; For let a Noble-man be popular, if he haue an ill face, it is termed warlike; his drunken- || <C4r>
neſſe is termed good-fellowſhip; his ſlouenlineſſe, hu- mility; his prodigality, liberality; Thus is vertue ſup- preſſed, and forced with her own titles to adorne her mortalleſt aduerſaries. But, to returne to our defamed 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 hee ſuffered the conſpiracie to take ſo deepe root, that (in the end) the branches thereof ouertopped his glory, and ouerſha- dowed his greatneſſe. For c the Counteſſe of Rich- mand 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 d the two diſſenting houſes in vni- tie, by e a marriage. This practiſe 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 coſtody of her f Huſband. Would a cruell bloud-thirſty Prince haue done ſo? Could any thing haue been performed with more mildneſſe and lenity? Could he doe 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 people, ſhould and ought to haue tempered the bitterneſſe of his moſt malicious ene- mies: With no leſſe mercifull gentleneſſe he vſed her || <C4v>
Huſband, (and that) at ſuch time as her ſonne was already landed, and made claime to the Kingdome: for he onely tooke his ſonne d the Lord Strange as an Hoſtage, and then ſuffered him to go into the Coun- try to leuie his forces: ſo farre was he from bloud and cruelty, as, though he knew his alliance to the contra- rie faction, a motiue, ſufficient to make him (as indeed he did) incline to their ayde, though he might iuſtly ſuſpect him, & could not haue wanted colour to haue beheaded him (as being father-in-law to his Compe- titor) yet he onely detained his ſonne in his Campe; and when he had aſſured notice of his Fathers diſloy- all reuolt, yet hee ſuffered the Hoſtage of his loyalty to liue: an euidence effectuall enough to teſtifie, that he deſired rather to ſettle, then to ouerthrow the qui- et of this Land; that he laboured to winne the hearts of his ſubiects, rather with meekeneſſe 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 terror. But now e the Heire of Lancaſter being come to challenge the Crowne, what did the King? Did his ſpirits faile him? Was his magnanimous courage danted? No, he then gathered new ſpirit, hee new ſteeled his courage, hee withſtood him with the height of fortitude; proteſting rather to die valiantly, then to liue leſſe then a King. With what a Roman-like ſpirit did he reſiſt Fortune? being ouerthrowne, hoe Heroically did he encoun- ter with death? This our detracting Chroniclers can- not but acknowledge: for ſo high, ſo powerful was || D<r>
his magnanimity, that (in ſpight of malice) it preuai- leth, and (like the Sunne) breaketh thorow the miſty clouds of his aduerſaries ſlanders: Was it a fault to withſtand the Lancaſtrian heires claime? then thoſe are faulty, who being in poſſeſſion of lands, to proue good their title, proſecute ſuits, & are ouerthrowne by the Law: for the ſentence of iudgement makes them to perceiue that to be an errour, which before they ima- gined none. Beſides, he knew well, that his kingdome & life had both one period, to which life he was per- ſwaded his Competitor had no right, & therefore he would neuer be guilty of ſuch a ſin (as wilfully to be- tray it) till he who lent it him required repayment. Had his life, his actions beene moſt abominable; yet (like a ſlaue) to haue yeelded his throat to the execution, would haue beene an imputation beyond all other imputations: but could hee as openly haue manifeſted his other vertues, as he did his valour and policie, the worlds opinion had beene otherwiſe, and I neither had taken ſuch paines to deſend his inno- cencie, nor in ſome weake iudgements to endanger mine owne. But ſurely he did couragiouſly and vali- antly 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 bat- tell, he dreamed a moſt a dreadfull & horrible dreame, which by our Chroniclers is interpreted to be a te- ſtimonie of his wicked and tyrannous life. Did not Cæſar, b before hee attained the Empire, dreame that hee knew his owne Mother carnally? Had not both Dion and Brutus the figures of terrible ſpirits repre- ſented vnto them, the night before their end? and yet || <Dv>
theſe were reputed good men, and louers and prote- ctors of their Country; and becauſe K. Richard drea- med with ſome terrour, muſt his life of neceſſity 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 ſlanderers; for how could they more truly witneſſe his integrity, ſince only they which reuerence & feare God, and in- dued with that inquiring conſcience, which cenſureth their actions? for they which are giuen ouer to a re- probate ſence, and inſenſible of that good Angell, which ſeeketh by telling vs our falts, to make vs repent our ſins paſt, & to be 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 pardon for his miſdeeds: and ſo hauing made attonement with God, like a deuout Penitentiary ſetled his minde, hee went with alacrity to the bloudy Court, where the cauſe of his life was to be tried, where his ſword be- ing his Aduocate, pleaded moſt valiantly. In all which tumult, he failed neither in difcretion, nor in execu- tion, 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, wherein he confeſſeth his errours, and deſireth pardon af all the world, ad he hoped his repentant teares had obtai- ned mercy of God. What a Saint-like thing was this, for a King, to craue forgiuenes of ſubiects? for a General, to humble himſelfe to his Souldiers? What could it be but the effect of a more diuine, then terrene vnderſtanding? If (like the common faſhion of men) he would haue || D2<r>
put his affiance in humane aſſiſtance, and neglected his God, he might (in common reaſon) haue promi- ſed himſelfe the victory, being double in forces, and nothing inferiour, either in valour or policy; but he acknowledged and confeſſed the power of the moſt powerfull: he knew that it was not the multitude of men, but God, that giueth the victory, and therefore hauing firſt made peace with his owne ſoule, he hum- bled himſelfe, and asked pardon of thoſe, ouer whom he had gouernment: knowing 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 mortal, and that his being a King, bound him to a more ſtrict reekoning, then one that enioyeth a leſſer Farme. Now whe- ther this mercifull remembrance of God diſgraceth him, iudge ye that haue grace. But now (both battels being ioyned) what did this valiant King? Did hee onely ſtand to giue directions to others? No, he did rigorous execution with his ſword vpon his enemies. Did he, when hee perceiued ſome of his Subiects diſloyally to reuolt, and that his forces were put to the worſt, think vpon yeelding or flight? Though by ſome of his faithfulleſt ſeruants he was counſailed 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, be- cauſe the garland was a Crowne, the prize a King- dome; Victory, Maieſtie, & perpetuall renowne the reʍard, this Lyon-hearted-King couragiouſly char- ging his ſpeare, ran into the Battalion of his aduerſa- ries; where, with his owne hands hee ſlew the ſtout a Sir William Brandon, Standard-bearer of his enemie: || <D2v>
he ouerthrew the ſtrong and valian S. Iohn Cheney, & ſingled out his Competitor: who being the moſt He- roick & valiant Prince of thoſe times, yet had doubt- leſſe been ſlaine, had not he beene reſcued by S. Wil- liam Stanley, who came happily with three thouſand men to his reſcue, who on all ſides encompaſſing K. Richard, ſo aſſailed him, that though he did more then a man, though his ſword acted wonders, yet be- ing oppreſſed by ſo great a multitude, hee was there manfully ſlaine, not ouercome, for he conquered the betrayers of men in danger, Paſſion and Feare. Thus loſt he both kingdome & life, but nothing di- miniſhed his interiour vertues: When the adiudged puniſhment is performed, our lawes doe account the offender as clear of the crime, as if he neuer had com- mitted it. Why ſhould this common benefit be denied a King, ſince if guilty, his blood made reſtitution, and being dead his royal body was deſpoiled of all kingly ornaments, left naked, & not onely vnroyally, but in- humanely and reprochfully dragged? Yet neither can his blood redeem him from iniuriour tongues, nor the reproch offered his body be thought cruell enough, but that we muſt ſtill make him more cruelly infamous in Pamphlets and Playes. Compare him now (iudici- ous reader) impartially with other princes; iudge tru- ly of all their actions, their forme of gouernment, and their Statutes and Ordinances, the vpholders, the ſtrenght, the ſinewes of gouernment; and thou ſhalt find him as innocent of cruelty, extortion & 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.
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a Rich. D. of York father of Edw. the fourth, George D of Clarence, and Rich. the third. [Cornwallis’s own note] b Edw. Earle of March, el- deſt ſonne of R. D. of Yorke, after K. by the name of Edw. the fourth. [Cornwallis’s own note] c For the Dukedome of Yorke, as right, from his fa- ther D. of Yorke. [Cornwallis’s own note] d K. Henry the ſixt. [Cornwallis’s own note] e Rich. Ne- uile Earle of Warwick ſirnamed the King- maker. [Cornwallis’s own note] f K. Edw. the fourth. [Cornwallis’s own note] g Lady E- liz. Gray, widdow of Sir Iohn Gray Knight, af- ward mar- ryed to K. Edward the fourth. [Cornwallis’s own note] h Lady Bo- na Neece to the French king Lewes the eleuenth, & daughter to Lewes D. of Sauoy. [Cornwallis’s own note] i For he had got her with childe. [Cornwallis’s own note] k George D. of Cla- rence, ſe- cond brother of K. Edw. the 4. [Cornwallis’s own note] l He marry- ed Iſabell, daughter of Richard Neuill Earle of Warwicke. [Cornwallis’s own note] m He was drowned in a Malmſey butt in the Tower. [Cornwallis’s own note] n Edward Prince of Wales, ſon of K. Henry the 6 ſlaine after the battaile of Tewkſ- bury. [Cornwallis’s own note] o The death of Henry the 6. in the Tower. [Cornwallis’s own note]
a The death of K. Ed. the 4. [Cornwallis’s own note] b King Ed- ward Pr. of Wales, ſon to King Ed. the 4. [Cornwallis’s own note] c Richard D. of Glou- ceſter made Protector. [Cornwallis’s own note] d Richard D. of York, younger ſon of Edward the 4. [Cornwallis’s own note]
e Henry Stafford D. of Buc- kingham. [Cornwallis’s own note]
f Wil. Lord Haſtings, Chamber- laine to Ed. the 4. [Cornwallis’s own note]
g Phil. de Cōmines, Lord of Ar- genton in his Hiſtory. [Cornwallis’s own note] h Mary ſole daughter and heire of Charles D. of Burgun- dy, after married to Maximili- an the Em- perour. [Cornwallis’s own note]
Shores wife. [Cornwallis’s own note] k D. Shaes Sermon at Pauls Croſſe. [Cornwallis’s own note]
Sir Philip Sidney in his defence of Poetry. [Cornwallis’s own note]
m The Co- ronation of K. Richard the Third. [Cornwallis’s own note]
g The two diſſenting factions of Yorke and Lancaſter vnited by the marri- age of Hen. the ſeuenth to Eliz. el- deſt daugh- ter to Edw. the fourth. [Cornwallis’s own note]
h Lewes the II. [Cornwallis’s own note]
i Barwicke won from the Scots by Richard the third. [Cornwallis’s own note] k The death of Prince Edward & Richard D. of Yorke in the Tower. [Cornwallis’s own note]
a A King not to be condemned but by a Iury of Kings. [Cornwallis’s own note]
b Anne wife of K. Richard the 3. daugh- ter of Ric. Neuil E. of War. and widdow of Prince Ed- ward, ſon to Henry the 6. [Cornwallis’s own note] c To Henry the 6. and Edw. the 4. [Cornwallis’s own note]
d The wife from whom he was di- uorced, was Ioane, daughter of Lewes the 12. ſiſter of Charles the 8. Gui. Lib. 4. [Cornwallis’s own note] e The death of Anne wife of Ric. the 3. and ſecond daughter of Richard Neuil Earle of Warwicke. [Cornwallis’s own note]
f Colling- borne exe- cuted for Treaſon, not libelling. [Cornwallis’s own note]
d The lady Elizabeth eldeſt daugh ter to Edw. the fourth, after wife to Henry the ſeuenth. [Cornwallis’s own note]
a This Moreton was after in the raign of Henry the ſeauenth Archbiſhop of Canter- bury, Car- dinall and Lord Chan- cellor of England. [Cornwallis’s own note] b The death of Henry Stafford D. of Buck- ingham, be- headed at ſhrewsbury. [Cornwallis’s own note]
c Margaret Counteſſe of Richmond, wife of Thomas L. Stanley, mother of K. Henry the ſeuenth. [Cornwallis’s own note] d Q. Eliza. mother to Elizab. el- deſt daugh- ter of Edw. the fourth, and Marg. Counteſſe of Richmond, mother to Henry the ſeuenth, af- ter King. [Cornwallis’s own note] e Yorke and Lancaſter. [Cornwallis’s own note] g Thomas L. Stanley, after by Henry the ſeuenth cre- ated Earle of Darby. [Cornwallis’s own note] d George L. Strange, ſonne and heire to Tho. Lord Stanley. [Cornwallis’s own note]
e Henry the 7. [Cornwallis’s own note]
a King Ri- chards dreame the night before the battel of Boſworth. [Cornwallis’s own note] b Plutarch in the life of Cæſar, Di- on & Bru- tus. [Cornwallis’s own note]
a The Ora- tion of King Richard, Holin- ſheds Chro- nicle in the end of his reigne. [Cornwallis’s own note]
a Sir Wil- liam Bran- don Stan- dard-bearer to Henry the 7. ſlain. He was Fa- ther to Charles Brandon, after crea- ted Duke of Suffolke, by Hen. the 8. [Cornwallis’s own note]
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THE PRAISE OF Richard the Third.
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