THE PRAISE OF Richard the Third.


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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                       ||



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,                        ||



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                         ||



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-                          ||



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                            ||



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                       ||



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                   ||



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                     ||



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                       ||



(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;                            ||



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?                       ||



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                       ||



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;                                     ||



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                       ||



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                         ||



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.                                                             ||



       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                       ||



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                             ||



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-                     ||



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.                                                                       ||



       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-                       ||



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                        ||



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                           ||



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

ſar, 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                       ||



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                         ||



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:                     ||



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.







































a Rich. D. of

York father

of Edw. the


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


[Cornwallis’s own note]

c For the


of Yorke, as


from his fa-

ther D. of


[Cornwallis’s own note]

d K. Henry

the ſixt.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

e Rich. Ne-

uile Earle

of Warwick


the King-


[Cornwallis’s own note]

f K. Edw.

the fourth.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

g Lady E-

liz. Gray,

widdow of

Sir Iohn


Knight, af-

ward mar-

ryed to K.


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



Earle of


[Cornwallis’s own note]

m He was

drowned in

a Malmſey

butt in the


[Cornwallis’s own note]

n Edward

Prince of

Wales, ſon

of K. Henry

the 6 ſlaine

after the

battaile of



[Cornwallis’s own note]

o The death

of Henry

the 6. in the


[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


[Cornwallis’s own note]

d Richard

D. of York,

younger ſon

of Edward

the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]


e Henry


D. of Buc-


[Cornwallis’s own note]










































f Wil. Lord



laine to Ed.

the 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]




g Phil. de


Lord of Ar-

genton in

his Hiſtory.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

h Mary ſole


and heire of

Charles D.

of Burgun-

dy, after

married to


an the Em-


[Cornwallis’s own note]





[Cornwallis’s own note]

k D. Shaes


at Pauls


[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


factions of

Yorke and


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


[Cornwallis’s own note]








i Barwicke

won from

the Scots by


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


but by a

Iury of


[Cornwallis’s own note]





b Anne

wife of K.


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


daughter of

Lewes the 12.

ſiſter of


the 8.

Gui. Lib. 4.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

e The death

of Anne

wife of Ric.

the 3. and


daughter of



Earle of


[Cornwallis’s own note]








f Colling-

borne exe-

cuted for

Treaſon, not


[Cornwallis’s own note]

























d The lady


eldeſt daugh

ter to Edw.

the fourth,

after wife to

Henry the


[Cornwallis’s own note]










































a This


was after

in the raign

of Henry

the ſeauenth


of Canter-

bury, Car-

dinall and

Lord Chan-

cellor of


[Cornwallis’s own note]

b The death

of Henry


D. of Buck-

ingham, be-

headed at


[Cornwallis’s own note]












c Margaret

Counteſſe of


wife of


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


mother to

Henry the

ſeuenth, af-

ter King.

[Cornwallis’s own note]

e Yorke and


[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


[Cornwallis’s own note]
















e Henry

the 7.

[Cornwallis’s own note]
































a King Ri-


dreame the

night before

the battel of


[Cornwallis’s own note]

b Plutarch

in the life of

Cæſar, Di-

on & Bru-


[Cornwallis’s own note]
























a The Ora-

tion of King



ſheds Chro-

nicle in the

end of his


[Cornwallis’s own note]





























a Sir Wil-

liam Bran-

don Stan-


to Henry

the 7. ſlain.

He was Fa-

ther to



after crea-

ted Duke of

Suffolke, by

Hen. the 8.

[Cornwallis’s own note]