pretations. Some thought the continual rebellions wherewith he had been vexed had made him grow to hate his people; some thought it was done to pull down their stomachs, and to keep them low; some, for that he would leave his son a golden fleece; some suspected he had some high design upon foreign parts; but those perhaps shall come nearest the truth that fetch not their reasons so far off, but rather impute it to nature, age, peace, and a mind fixed upon no other ambition or pursuit. Whereunto I should add, that having every day occasion to take notice of the necessities and shifts for money of other great princes abroad, it did the better, by comparison, set off to him the felicity of full coffers. As to his expending of treasure, he never spared charge which his affairs required; and in his buildings was magnificent; but his rewards were very limited, so that his liberality was rather upon his own state and memory than upon the deserts of others.

He was of an high mind, and loved his own will and his own way, as one that revered himself and would reign indeed. Had he been a private man he would have been termed proud; but in a wise prince it was but keeping of distance, which indeed he did towards ail, not admitting any near or full approach neither to his power or to his secrets, for he was governed by none. His queen, notwithstanding she had presented him with divers children, and with a crown also, though he would not acknowledge it, could do nothing with him. His mother he reverenced much, heard little; for any person agreeable to him for society, such as was Hastings to King Edward the Fourth, or Charles Brandon after to King Henry the Eighth' he had none; except we should account for such persons as Fox, and Bray, and Empson, because they were so much with him. But it was but as the instrument is much with the workman. He had nothing in him of vain-glory, but yet kept state and majesty to the height; being sensible that majesty maketh the people bow, but vain-glory boweth to them.

To his confederates abroad he was constant and just, but not open; but rather such was his inquiry, and such his closeness, as they stood in the light towards him, and he stood in the dark to them. Yet without strangeness, but with a semblance of mutual communication of affairs. As for little envies or emulations upon foreign princes, which are frequent with many kings, he never had many, but went substantially to his own business. Certain it is that though his reputation was great at home, yet it was greater abroad. For foreigners that could not see the passages of affairs, but made their judgments upon the issues of them, noted that he was ever in strife, and ever aloft. It grew also from the airs which the princes and states abroad received from their ambassadors and agents here, which were attending the court in great number, whom he did not only content with courtesy, reward, and privateness, but, upon such conferences as passed with them, put them in admiration to find his universal insight into the affairs of the world; which, though he did suck chiefly from themselves, yet that which he had gathered from them all seemed admirable to every one, so that they did write ever to their superiors in high terms concerning his wisdom and art of rule; nay, when they were returned, they did commonly maintain intelligence with him: such a dexterity he had to impropriate to himself all foreign instruments.

He was careful and liberal to obtain good intelligence from all parts abroad; wherein he did not only use his interest in the liegers here, and his pensioner, which he had both in the court of Rome and other the courts of Christendom, but the industry and vigilancy of his own ambassadors in foreign parts: for which purpose his instructions were ever extreme, curious, and articulate; and in them morearticles touching inquisition than touching negotiation, requiring likewise from his ambassadors an answer in particular and distinct articles respectively to his questions. As for his secret spials, which he did employ both at home and abroad, by them

to discover what practices and conspiracies were against him, surely his case required it, he had such moles perpetually working and casting to undermine him. Neither can it be reprehended; for if spials be lawful against lawful enemies, much more against conspirators and traitors. But indeed to give them credence by oaths or curses, that cannot be well maintained: for those are too holy vestments for a disguise. Yet surely there was this further good in his employing of these flies and familiars; that as the use of them was cause that many conspiracies were revealed, so the fame and suspicion of them kept, no doubt, many conspiracies from being attempted.

Towards his queen he was nothing uxorious, and scarce indulgent; but companionable and respective, and without jealousy. Towards his children he was full of paternal affection, careful of their education, aspiring to their high advancement, regular to see that they should not want of any due honour and respect, but not greatly willing to cast any popular lustre upon them.

To his council he did refer much, and sat oft in person, knowing it to be the way to assist his power and inform his judgment. In which respect also he was fairly patient of liberty, both of advice and of vote, till himself were declared. He kept a strait hand on his nobility, and chose rather to advance clergymen and lawyers, which were more obsequious to him, but had less interest in the people, which made for his absoluteness but not for his safety; insomuch as, I am persuaded, it was one of the causes of his troublesome reign; for that his nobles, though they were loyal and obedient, yet did not co-operate with him, but let every man go his own way. He was not afraid of an able man, as Lewis the Eleventh was; but contrariwise, he was served by the ablest men that were to be found, without which his affairs could not have prospered as they did. For war, Bedford, Oxford, Surrey, D'Aubigny, Brooke, Poynings; for other affairs, Morton, Fox, Bray, the Prior of Lanthony, Warham, Urswick, Hussey, Frowick, and others. Neither did he care how cunning they were that he did employ, for he thought himself to have the master-reach. And as he chose well, so he held them up well; for it is a strange thing, that though he were a dark prince, and infinitely suspicious, and his times full of secret conspiracies and troubles, yet in twenty-four years' reign he never put down or discomposed counsellor, or near servant, save only Stanley, the lord chamberlain. As for the disposition of his subjects in general towards him, it stood thus with him; that of the three affections which naturally tie the hearts of the subjects to their sovereigns, love, fear, and reverence, he had the last in height, the second in good measure, and so little of the first as he was beholden to the other two.

He was a prince sad, serious, and full of thoughts and secret observations, and full of notes and memorials of his own hand, especially touching persons. As, whom to employ, whom to reward, whom to inquire of, whom to beware of, what were the dependencies, what were the factions, and the like; keeping, as it were, a journal of his thoughts. There is to this day a merry tale, that his monkey, set on, as it was thought, by one of his chamber, tore his principal note-book all to pieces, when by chance it lay forth; whereat the court, which liked not those pensive accounts, was almost tickled with sport.

He was indeed full of apprehensions and suspicions, but as he did easily take them, so he did easily check them and master them, whereby they were not dangerous, but troubled himself more than others. It is true, his thoughts were so

many, as they could not well always stand together; but that which did good one way, did hurt another: neither did he at some times weigh them aright in their proportions. Certainly, that rumour which did him so much mischief, that the Duke of York should be saved and alive, was, at the first, of his own nourishing,

because he would have more reason not to reign in right of his wife. He was affable and both well and fair spoken, and would use strange sweetness and blandishments of words where he desired to effect or persuade anything that he took to heart. He was rather studious than learned, reading most books that were of any worth in the French tongue; yet he understood the Latin, as appeareth in that Cardinal Hadrian and others, who could very well have written French, did use to write to him in Latin.

For his pleasures, there is no news of them; and yet by his instructions to Marsin and Stile, touching the queen of Naples, it seemeth he could interrogate well touching beauty. He did by pleasures as great princes do by banquets, come and look a little upon them, and turn away. For never prince was more wholly given to his affairs, nor in them more of himself; insomuch as in triumphs of jousts, and tourneys, and balls, and masks, which they then called disguises, he was rather a princely and gentle spectator, than seemed much to be delighted.

No doubt in him, as in all men, and most of all in kings, his fortune wrought upon his nature, and his nature upon his fortune. He attained to the crown not only from a private fortune, which might endow him with moderation, but also from the fortune of an exiled man, which had quickened in him all seeds of observation and industry. And his times, being rather prosperous than calm, had raised his confidence by success, but almost marred his nature by troubles. His wisdom, by often evading from perils, was turned rather into a dexterity to deliver himself from dangers, when they pressed him, than into a providence to prevent and remove them afar off. And even in nature, the sight of his mind was like some sights of eyes—rather strong at hand than to carry afar off; for his wit increased upon the occasion, and so much the more if the occasion were sharpened by danger. Again, whether it were the shortness of his foresight, or the strength of his will, or the dazzling of his suspicions, or what it was-certain it is, that the perpetual troubles of his fortunes, there being no more matter out of which they grew, could not have been without some great defects and main errors in his nature, customs, and proceedings, which he had enough to do to save and help with a thousand little industries and watches. But those do best appear in the story itself. Yet take him with all his defects, if a man should compare him with the kings his concurrents in France and Spain, he shall find him more politic than Lewis the Twelfth of France, and more entire and sincere than Ferdinando of Spain: but if you shall change Lewis the Twelfth for Lewis the Eleventh, who lived a little before, then the consort is more perfect; for that Lewis the Eleventh, Ferdinando, and Henry, may be esteemed for the "tres magi" of kings of those ages. To conclude, if this king did no greater matters, it was long of himself; for what he minded, he compassed.

He was a comely personage, a little above just stature, well and straight-limbed, but slender. His countenance was reverend, and a little like a churchman; and as it was not strange or dark, so neither was it winning or pleasing, but as the face of one well-disposed; but it was to the disadvantage of the painter, for it was best when he spake.

His worth may bear a tale or two, that may put upon him somewhat that may seem divine. When the Lady Margaret, his mother, had divers great suitors for marriage, she dreamed one night that one in the likeness of a bishop, in pontifical habit, did tender her Edmund, Earl of Richmond, the king's father, for her husband; neither had she ever any child but the king, though she had three husbands. One day when King Henry the Sixth, whose innocency gave him holiness, was washing his hands at a great feast, and cast his eye upon King Henry, then a young youth, he said, "This is the lad that shall possess quietly that that we

now strive for." But that that was truly divine in him, was that he had the for, tune of a true Christian as well as of a great king, in living exercised and dying repentant; so as he had an happy warfare in both conflicts, both of sin and the

cross.

He was born at Pembroke Castle, and lieth buried at Westminster in one of the stateliest and daintiest monuments of Europe, both for the chapel and for the sepulchre. So that he dwelleth more richly dead, in the monument of his tomb, than he did alive in Richmond, or any of his palaces. I could wish he did the like in this monument of his fame.

So are a number more.

2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?

1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke

Came to the bar; where to his accusations

He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleg'd

Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.

The king's attorney, on the contrary,

Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses; which the duke desir'd
To have brought, vivâ voce, to his face :

At which appear'd against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor; and John Car,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,

Hopkins, that made this mischief.

2 Gent.

That was he

That fed him with his prophecies ?

1 Gent.

The same.

All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain

Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:

And so his peers, upon this evidence,

Have found him guilty of high treason. Much

SHAKSPERE.

He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all

Was either pitied in him, or forgotten.

2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself?

1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar, to hear

His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd

With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty :
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
2 Gent. I do not think he fears death.
1 Gent.

Sure, he does not,
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.

Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,

Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much

They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,

The mirror of all courtesy.

Enter Buckingham from his arraignment; Tipstaves before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each side; accompanied with Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands, and common people.

And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
Buck.
All good people,

You that thus far have come to pity me,

Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.

I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,

And by that name must die: Yet, heaven bear witness,

And if I have a conscience let it sink me,

Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!

The law I bear no malice for my death,

It has done, upon the premises, but justice:

But those that sought it I could wish more christians :

Be what they will, I heartily forgive them :

Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,

Nor build their evils on the graves of great men ;