John Bon and mast Parson.
☞ The Parson.
What, John Bon! Good morrow to thee!
John Bon.
Now, good morrow, mast[er] Parson, so mut I thee!
Parson.
What meanest thou, John! to be at work so soon?
John.
The sooner I begin, the sooner shall I have done,
For I 'tend to work no longer than none.
Parson.
Marry, John, for that, GOD's blessing on thy heart!
For, surely, some there be, will go to plough and cart;
And set not by, this holy Corpus Christi even.
John.
They are the more to blame, I swear by Saint Stephen!
But tell me, mast[er] Parson, one thing, and you can;
What Saint is Copsi Cursty, a man, or a woman?
Parson.
Why, John! knowest not that? I tell thee, it was a man.
It is Christ His own self, and to-morrow is His day.
We bear Him in procession, and thereby know it ye may.
John.
I know! mast[er] Parson! and nay, by my fay!
But methink it is a mad thing that ye say,
That it should be a man. How can it come to pass?
Because ye may Him bear within so small a glass.
Parson.
Why, neighbour John, and art thou now there?
Now I may perceive ye love this new gear.
John.
God's forbod! master! I should be of that faction.
I question why, your masship, in way of cumlication.
A plain man, ye may see, will speak as cometh to mind:
Ye must hold us excused, for ploughmen be but blind.
I am an eld fellow, of fifter winter and more,
And yet, in all my life, I knew not this before.
Parson.
No did! Why sayest thou so? Upon thyself, thou lyest!
Thou hast ever known the sacrament to be the body of Christ!
John.
Yea, sir, ye say true! All that, I know indeed;
And yet, as I remember, it is not in my Creed:
But as for Cropsy Cursty to be a man or no,
I knew not till this day, by the way my soul shall to!
Parson.
Why, foolish fellow! I tell thee it is so!
For it was so determined by the Church long ago;
It is both the sacrament and very Christ himself.
John.
No spleaser, mast[er] Parson! Then make ye Christ an elf;
And the maddest made man, that ever body saw!
Parson.
What! peace, mad man! Thou speakest like a daw!
It is not possible his manhood for to see.
John.
Why, sir; ye tell me it is even very He:
And if it be not His manhood, His godhead it must be.
Parson.
I tell thee, none of both! What meanest thou? Art thou mad?
John.
No, neither made nor drunk; but to learn I am glad:
But to displease your masship, I would be very loath,
Ye grant me here plainly, that it is none of both,
Then it is but a cake: but I pray ye, be not wroth!
Parson.
Wroth, quoth ha! By the mass! (thou makest me swear an oath),
I had leaver with a Doctor of Divinity to reason,
Than with a stubble cur, that eateth beans and peason.
John.
I cry ye mercy, mast[er] Parson! Patience for a season!
In all this cumlication is neither felony nor treason.
Parson.
No, by the mass! But hearest thou! It is plain heresy.
John.
I am glad it chanced so, there was no witness by;
And if there had, I cared not; for ye spake as ill as I.
I speak but as I heard you say, I wot not what ye thought.
Ye said "It was not God, nor man," and made it worse than nought.
Parson.
I meant not so. Thou tookest me wrong!
John.
A, sir! Ye sing another song!
I dare not reason with you long.
I see well, now, ye have a knack
To say a thing, and then go back.
Parson.
No, John! I was but a little overseen:
But thou meantest not good faith, I ween,
In all this talk that was us between.
John.
I! No, trow, it shall not so been
That John Bon shall an heretic be called,
Then might he lay him so foul befald.
Parson.
But, now, if thou wilt mark me well!
From beginning to ending, I will thee tell
Of the godly service that shall be to-morrow;
That, ere I have done, no doubt, thou wilt sorrow
To hear that such things should be foredone.
And yet, in many places, they have begun
To take away the old, and set up new.
Believe me, John! this tale is true.
John.
Go to, mast[er] Parson! Say on, and well to thrive!
Ye be the jolliest gemman [gentleman] that ever saw in my life.
Parson.
We shall first have Matins. Is it not a godly hearing?
John [who is now speaking, aside].
Fie! yes. Methink 'tis a shameful gay cheering,
For oftentimes, on my prayers, when I take no great keep,
Ye sing so arrantly well, ye make me fall asleep!
Parson.
Then have we Procession, and Christ about we bear.
John.
That is a poison holy thing, for GOD Himself is there.
Parson.
Then come we in, and ready us dress,
Full solemnly to go to Mess.
John.
Is not here a mischievous thing!
The Mess is vengeance holy, for all their saying!
Parson.
Then say we Confiteor and Miseriatur.
John.
Jeze LORD! 'tis abominable matter!
Parson.
And then we stand up to the altar.
John.
This gear is as good as Our Lady's Psalter.
Parson.
And so go forth with the other deal
Till we have read the Pistel and Gospel.
John.
That is good, mast[er] Parson, I know right well.
Parson.
Is that good! Why, what say'st thou to the other?
John.
Marry! horribly good! I say none other.
Parson.
So is all the Mess, I dare avow this,
As good in every point as Pistel or Gospel is.
John.
The foul evil it is! Who would think so much?
In faith, I ever thought that it had been no such.
Parson.
Then have we the Canon, that is holiest.
John.
A spiteful gay thing, of all that ever I wist.
Parson.
Then have we the Memento, even before the sacring.
John.
Ye are morenly well learned! I see by your reck'ning
That ye will not forget such an elvish thing.
Parson.
And after that, we consecrate Very God and Man;
And turn the bread to flesh, with five words we can.
John.
The devil ye do! I trow this is pestilence business!
Ye are much bound to GOD for such a spittle holiness!
A gallows gay gift! With five words alone,
To make both God and Man; and yet we see none!
Ye talk so unreasonably well, it maketh my heart yearn,
As eld a fellow as I am, I see well I may learn.
Parson.
Yea, John! and then, with words holy and good,
Even, by and by, we turn the wine to blood.
John.
Lo! Will ye se? Lo! who would have thought it?
That ye could so soon from wine to blood ha brought it?
And yet, except your mouth be better tasted than mine,
I cannot feel it other but that it should be wine.
And yet I wot ne'er a cause there may be, why
Perchance, ye ha drunk blood oftner than ever did I.
Parson.
Truly, John, it is blood, though it be wine in taste.
As soon as the word is spoke, the wine is gone and past!
John.
A sessions on it! for me. My wits are me benumme:
For I cannot study where the wine should become?
Parson.
Study, quoth ha! Beware, and let such matter go!
To meddle much with this, may bring ye soon to woe.
John.
Yea, but, mast[er] Parson! think ye it were right,
That, if I desired you to make my black ox white;
And you say, "It is done!" and still is black in sight;
Ye might me deem a fool, for to believe so light?
Parson.
I marvel much, ye will reason so far!
I fear if ye use it, it will ye mar!
John.
No, no, sir! I trust of that I shall be 'ware,
I pray you, with your matter again forth to fare!
Parson.
And then we go forth, and Christ's body receive;
Even the very same that Mary did conceive.
John.
The devil it is! Ye have a great grace
To eat GOD and Man in so short a space.
Parson.
And so we make an end, as it lieth in an order.
But now the blessed Mess is hated in every border,
And railed on, and reviled, with words most blasphemous:
But I trust it will be better with the help of Catechismus.
For though it came forth but even that other day,
Yet hath it turned many to their old way:
And where they hated Messe, and had it in disdain,
There have they Messe and Matins in Latin tongue again.
Yea, even in London self, John, I tell the truth!
They be full glad and merry to hear of this, GOD knoweth!
John.
By my troth! mast[er] Parson, I like full well your talk!
But mass me no more messings! The right way will I walk.
For, though I have no learning, yet I know cheese from chalk,
And each can perceive your juggling, as crafty as ye walk!
But leave your devilish Mass, and the Communion to you take!
And then will Christ be with you; even for His promise sake!
Parson.
What, art thou such a one, and kept it so close!
Well, all is not gold, that hath a fair gloss,
But, farewell, John Bon! GOD bring thee in better mind!
John.
These are cries to the plough horses.
I thank you, sir! for that you seem very kind;
But pray not so for me! for I am well enough.
Whistle, boy! drive forth! GOD speed us and the plough!
Ha! browne done! forth, that horson crab!
Reecomomyne, garled! with haight, black hab!
Have a gain, bald before! hayght ree who!
Cherrily, boy, come off! that homeward we may go.
Finis.
☞ Imprinted at London, by John Day, and William Seres, dwelling in Sepulchres Parish, at the sign of the Resurrection, a little above Holborn Conduite.
CUM GRATIA ET PRIVILEGIO AD IMPRIMENDUM SOLUM.
John Fox, the Martyrologist.
The Imprisonment of the Princess
Elizabeth.
[Actes and Monumentes, &c., p. 1710. Ed. 1563.]
First, therefore, to begin with her princely birth, being born at Greenwich, anno 1534, of the famous and victorious Prince, King Henry VIII., and of the noble and most virtuous Lady, Queen Anne her mother; sufficiently is committed to the story before. Also of the solemn celebration of her baptism in the said town, and Grey Friar's Church, of Greenwich; having to her godfather, Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury.
After that, she was committed to godly tutors and governors. Under whose institution her Grace did so greatly increase, or rather excel in all manner of virtue and knowledge of learning, that I stand in a doubt whether is more to be commended in this behalf, the studious diligence of them that brought her up, or the singular towardness of her own princely nature to all virtuous disposition; so apt and so inclinable: both being notwithstanding the gifts of GOD, for which we are all bound to give Him thanks. What tongue is it that Her Grace knoweth not? What language she cannot speak? What liberal art or science, she hath not learned? And what virtue wherewith her noble breast is not garnished? In counsel and wisdom, what Councillor will go beyond Her Majesty?
If the goodness of nature, joined with the industry of Her Grace's institution, had not been in her marvellous, how many things were there, besides the natural infirmity of that sex, the tenderness of youth, the nobility of estate, allurements of the world, persuasions of flatterers, abundance of wealth and pleasures, examples of the Court, enough to carry her Grace away after the common fashion and rule of many other Ladies, from gravity to lightness, from study to ease, from wisdom to vanity, from religion to superstition, from godliness to gawishness, to be pricked up with pride, to be garish in apparel, to be fierce in condition?
Eloquently is it spoken, and discreetly meant of Tully, the eloquent orator: "To live," saith he, "a good man in other places, is no great matter: but in Asia, to keep a sober and temperate life, that is a matter indeed praiseworthy!" So here, why may I not affirm without flattery, that [which] every man's conscience can testify? In that age, that sex, in such State and fortune, in so great occasions, so many incitements: in all these, to retain so sober conversation, so temperate condition, such mildness of manners, such humbleness of stomach, such clemency in forgiving, such travailing in study: briefly, in the midst of Asia, so far to degenerate from all Asia; it hath not lightly been seen in Europe! Hitherto, it hath been seen in very few. Whereby it may appear not only what education, or what Nature may do; but what GOD, above Nature, hath wrought in her noble breast, adorning it with so worthy virtues.
Of which her princely qualities and virtuous disposition, such as have been conversant with her youth can better testify. That which I have seen and read, I trust I may boldly repeat without suspicion either of feigning or flattery. For so I have read, written, and testified of Her Grace by [according to] one, both learned and also that can say something in this matter. Who in a certain book, by him set forth, entreating of Her Grace's virtuous bringing up, what discreet, sober, and godly women she had about her; speaketh, namely, of two points in Her Grace to be considered. One concerning her moderate and maidenly behaviour; the other one concerning her training up in learning and good letters. Declaring, first, for her virtuous moderation of life, that seven years after her father's death [i.e. in 1553], she had no little pride of stomach, so little delight in glistering gazes of the world, in gay apparel, rich attire, and precious jewels, that in all that time [i.e., through her brother Edward's reign] she never looked upon those, that her father left her (and which other Ladies commonly be so fond upon) but only once; and that against her will. And, moreover, after that, so little gloried in the same, that there came neither gold nor store upon her head, till her sister enforced her to lay off her former soberness, and bear her company in her glistening gains: yea, and then, she so ware it, as every man might see that her body bare that which her heart misliked. Wherein the virtuous prudence of this Princess, not reading but following the words of Paul and Peter, well considered True Nobility to consist not in circumstances of the body, but in substance of the heart; not in such things which deck the body, but in that which dignifieth the mind, shining and blazing more bright than pearl or stone, be it never so precious.
Again, the said author, further proceeding in the same matter, thus testifieth, that he knew a great man's daughter receiving from the Lady Mary, before she was Queen, goodly apparel of tinsel, cloth of gold and velvet, laid on with parchment lace of gold. When she saw it she said, "What shall I do with it?"
"Marry!" said a gentlewoman, "wear it!"
"Nay!" quoth she, "that were a shame! To follow my Lady Mary, against GOD's Word; and leave my Lady Elizabeth, which followeth GOD's Word."
Let noble Ladies and gentlewomen here learn either to give, or to take good example given: and if they disdain to teach their inferiors, in well doing; yet, let it not shame them, to learn of their betters.
Likewise also at the coming in of the Scottish Queen [in 1553], when all the other Ladies of the Court flourished in their bravery, with their hair frounced and curled, and double curled; yet she altered nothing; but to the shame of them all, kept her old maidenly shamefastness.
Let us now come to the second point, declaring how she hath been trained in learning; and that not vulgar and common, but the purest and the best, which is most commended at these days, as the Tongues, Arts, and GOD's Word. Wherein she so exceedingly profited, as the foresaid author doth witness, that being under twenty years of age [i.e., before 1554], she was not, in the best kind of learning, inferior to those that all their life time had been brought up in the Universities, and were counted jolly fellows.
And that you may understand that there hath not been, nor is in her, learning only without nature, and knowledge without towardness to practice; I will tell what hath been heard of her first schoolmaster [John Aylmer], a man very honest and learned: who reported of her, to a friend of his, that "He learned every day more of her, than she of him." Which when it seemed to him a mystery, as indeed it was, and he therefore desired to know his meaning therein, he thus expounded it: "I teach her words," quoth he, "and she, me things. I teach her the tongues to speak; and her modestly and maidenly life teacheth me words to do. For," saith he, "I think she is the best inclined and disposed of any in all Europe."
It seemed to me a goodly commendation of her, and a witty saying of him.
Likewise [Castiglione] an Italian, which taught her his tongue (although that nation lightly praise not out of their own country), said once to the said party, that "He found in her two qualities, which are never lightly yokefellows in one woman; which were a singular wit, and a marvellous meek stomach."
If time and leisure would serve to peruse her whole life past, many other excellent and memorable examples of her princely qualities and singular virtues might here be noted; but none, in my mind, more worthy of commendation, or that shall set forth the fame of her heroical and princely renown more to all posterity, than the Christian patience, and incredible clemency of her nature showed in her afflictions, and towards her declared enemies. Such was then the wickedness and rage of that time, wherein what dangers and troubles were among the inferior subjects of this realm of England, may be easily gathered when such a Princess, of that Estate, being a King's daughter, a Queen's sister, and Heir Apparent to the Crown, could not escape without her cross.
And therefore, as we have hitherto discoursed [of] the afflictions and persecutions of the other poor members of Christ, comprehended in this History before; so likewise, I see no cause why the communion of Her Grace's afflictions also, among the other saints of Christ, ought to be suppressed in silence: especially seeing the great and marvellous workings of GOD's glory, chiefly in this Story, appeareth above all the rest.
And though I should, through ingratitude or silence, pass over the same; yet the thing itself is so manifest, that what Englishman is he which knoweth not the afflictions of Her Grace to have been far above the condition of a King's daughter: for there was no more behind, to make a very Iphigenia of her, but her offering up upon the altar of the scaffold.
In which her storms and tempests, with what patience Her Highness behaved herself, although it be best known to them who, then being her adversaries, had the minding [imprisoning] of her. Yet this will I say, by the way, that then she must needs be in her affliction, marvellous patient: which sheweth herself now, in this prosperity, to be utterly without desire of revenge; or else she would have given some token, ere this day, of remembrance, how she was handled.
It was no small injury that she suffered, in the Lord Protector's days, by certain venomous vipers! But to let that pass! was it no wrong, think you! or small injury that she sustained, after the death of King Edward, when they sought to defeat her and her sister from their natural inheritance and right to the Crown?
But to let that pass likewise! and to come more near to the late days of her sister, Queen Mary. Into what fear, what trouble of mind, and what danger of death was she brought?
First, with great solemnity, with bands of harnessed men [i.e., in arms and armour] (Happy was he that might have the carrying of her!) to be fetched up, as the greatest traitor in the world; clapped in the Tower: and, again, to be tossed from thence, from prison to prison, from post to pillar. At length, also prisoner in her own house; and guarded with a sort [number] of cutthroats, which ever gaped for the spoil of the same, that they might have been fingering of somewhat.
Which Story, if I should set forth at large, through all the particulars and circumstances of the same, and as the just occasion of the history requireth; peradventure, it would move offence to some, being yet alive. Yet notwithstanding, I intend, by the grace of Christ, therein to use such brevity and moderation as may be to the glory of GOD, the discharge of the Story, the profit of the reader, and hurt to none: suppressing the names of some, whom here, although I could recite, yet I thought not to be more cruel in hurting their name, than the Queen hath been in pardoning their life.
Therefore, now to enter into the description of the matter. First, to declare her undeserved troubles; and then, the most happy deliverance out of the same, this is the Story.
In the beginning of Queen Mary's reign, mention is made before, how the Lady Elizabeth, and the Lord Courtney were charged with false suspicion of [being concerned in] Sir Thomas Wyatt's rising [in January, 1554, see p. 88].
Whereupon, Queen Mary, whether for that surmise, or for what other cause I know not, being offended with the said Lady Elizabeth her sister, at that time lying in her house at Ashridge [near Great Berkhampstead], sent to her two Lords [or rather William, Lord Howard, Sir Edward Hastings, afterwards Lord Hastings of Loughborough; and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, and Sir John Williams, afterwards Lord Williams] of Thame, with their retinue, and troop of horsemen, to the number of 250, who at their sudden and unprovided [unexpected] coming on the 11th February, 1554, found her at the same time, sore sick in bed, and very feeble and weak of body.
Whither, when they came; ascending up to Her Grace's Privy Chamber, willed there, one of her Ladies whom they met, to declare unto Her Grace that "There were certain Lords come from the Court, which had a message from the Queen."
Her Grace having knowledge thereof, was right glad of their coming: howbeit, being then very sick, and the night far spent, which was at ten of the clock, requested them by the messenger, that they would resort thither in the morning.
To this, they answered, and by the said messenger sent word again, that "They must needs see her; and would do so, in what case soever she were in." Whereat, the Lady being aghast, went to shew Her Grace their words; but they hastily following her, came rushing as soon as she, into Her Grace's chamber, unbidden.
At whose so sudden coming into her bedchamber, Her Grace being not a little amazed, said unto them, "My Lords! is the haste such, that it might not have pleased you to come to-morrow, in the morning?"
They made answer, that "They were right sorry to see Her Grace in that case."
"And I," quoth she, "am not glad to see you here, at this time of the night!"
Whereunto, they answered that "They came from the Queen to do their message and duty; which was to this effect, that the Queen's pleasure was that she should be at London, the 7th [? 12th] day of that present month."
Whereunto, she said, "My Lords! no creature [can be] more glad than I, to come to Her Majesty; being right sorry that I am not in case at this time, like to wait on her; as you yourselves, my Lords! do see and can well testify!"
"Indeed, we see it true," quoth they, "that you do say; for which we are very sorry: albeit we let you to understand that our Commission is such, and so straineth us, that we must needs bring you with us, either quick or dead."
Whereat she being amazed, sorrowfully said that "Their commission was very sore! but yet, notwithstanding, she hoped it to be otherwise, and not so straight."
"Yes, verily!" they answered.
Whereupon the Lords calling for two physicians, Doctor Owen and Doctor Wendif, demanded of them, "Whether she might be removed from thence, with life or not?" whose answer and judgement was this, "That there was no impediment to their judgement to the contrary; but that she might travel without danger of life."
In conclusion, they willed her to prepare against the morning, at nine of the clock, to go with them, declaring that "they had brought with them, the Queen's litter for her."
After much talk, the Lords declaring how there was no prolonging of times and days, so departed to their chamber; being entertained and cheered as appertained to their Honours.
On the next morrow [12th February], at the time prescribed, they had her forth as she was, very faint and feeble; and in such case as she was ready to swoon three or four times between them. What should I speak here that [which] cannot well be expressed! What a heavy house there was to behold the unreverent and doleful dealing of the Lords; but especially the careful fear and captivity of their innocent Lady and mistress.
Now to proceed in their journey. From Ashridge, all sick in the litter, she came to Redborne; where she was guarded all night.
From thence, to St. Albans, to Sir Ralph Rowlet's house; where she tarried that night all heavy, both feeble in body, and comfortless in mind.
From that place, they passed to Master Dodd's house, at Mimms [near Potters' Bar]; where they also remained that night.
And so from thence, she came to Highgate: where she, being very sick, tarried that night and the next day: during which time of her abode, there came many pursuivants and messengers from the Court unto the Lords; but what about, I cannot tell.
From that place, she was conveyed to the Court; where by the way came to meet her, many gentlemen to accompany Her Highness, which were very sorry to see her in that case: but especially a great multitude of people that were standing by the way; who then flocking about her litter, lamented and greatly bewailed her estate.
Now when she came to the Court, Her Grace was there straightways shut up, and kept as close prisoner for a fortnight, seeing neither Queen, nor Lord, nor friend at that time; but only then, the Lord Chamberlain, Sir John Gage, and the Vice-Chamberlain, which were attendant upon the doors.
About which time, Sir William St. Lo was called before the Council; to whose charge was laid, that he knew of Wyatt's rebellion: which he stoutly denied, protesting that he was a true man, both to God and his Prince, defying all traitors and rebels. But being straitly examined, was, in conclusion, committed to the Tower.
The Friday before Palm Sunday [16th March], [Stephen Gardiner] the Bishop of Winchester, with nineteen others of the Council (who shall be here nameless, as I have promised) came unto Her Grace, from the Queen's Majesty; and burdened [accused] her with Wyatt's conspiracy: which she utterly denied, affirming that "she was altogether guiltless therein."
They being not contented with this, charged Her Grace with the business made by Sir Peter Carew and the rest of the Gentlemen of the West Country; which she also utterly denying, cleared her innocency therein.
In conclusion, after long debating of matters, they declared unto her, that "It was the Queen's will and pleasure that she should go unto the Tower, while the matter were further tried and examined."
Whereat, she being aghast, said that "She trusted the Queen's Majesty would be a more gracious Lady unto her; and that Her Highness would not otherwise conceive of her, but that she was a true woman." Declaring furthermore to the Lords, that "She was innocent in all those matters, wherein they had burdened her, and desired them therefore to be a further mean to the Queen her sister, that she, being a true woman in thought, word, and deed, towards Her Majesty, might not be committed to so notorious and doleful a place": protesting that she would request no mercy at her hand, if she should be proved to have consented unto any such kind of matter as they laid unto her charge. And therefore, in fine, desired their Lordships to think of her what she was; and that she might not so extremely be dealt withal for her truth.
Whereunto, the Lords answered that "There was no remedy. For that the Queen's Majesty was fully determined that she should go unto the Tower"; wherewith the Lords departed, with their caps hanging over their eyes [this was a purposed sign of disrespect].
But not long after, within the space of an hour or a little more, came four of the foresaid Lords of the Council, with the Guard, who warding the next chamber to her, secluded all her Gentlemen and yeomen, Ladies and gentlewomen; saving that for one Gentleman Usher, three Gentlewomen, and two Grooms of her Chamber, were appointed in their rooms, three other men, and three waiting women of the Queen's, to give attendance upon her; that none should have access to her Grace.
At which time, there were a hundred of Northern soldiers, in white coats, watching and warding about the gardens all that night: a great fire being made in the midst of the Hall; and two certain Lords watching there also with their Band and company.
Upon Saturday, being Palm Sunday Eve [17th March], two certain Lords of the Council, whose names here also we do omit [but who were the Marquis of Winchester and the Earl of Sussex], came and certified Her Grace that "forthwith she must go unto the Tower! the barge being prepared for her, and the tide now ready, which tarrieth for nobody."
In heavy mood, Her Grace requested the Lords, that "She might tarry another tide;" trusting that the next would be more joyous and better because in the day time.
But one of the Lords [i.e., Winchester] replied that "Neither tide nor time was to be delayed!"
And when Her Grace requested him, that she might be suffered to write to the Queen's Majesty, he answered that "He durst not permit that;" adding that, "in his judgement it would rather hurt than profit Her Grace in so doing."
But the other Lord, who was the Earl of Sussex, more courteous and favourable, kneeling down, told Her Grace that "She should have liberty to write, and, as he was a true man, he would deliver it to the Queen's Highness; and bring an answer of the same, whatsoever came thereof."
Whereupon she wrote: albeit she could not, nor might not speak with her; to her great discomfort, being no offender against Her Majesty.
[The actual letter written by the Princess, at this moment, is in the State Paper Office. Domestic, Mary, Vol. IV. No. 2.
The Lady Elizabeth to the Queen.
If any ever did try this old saying, that A King's word was more than another man's oath, I most humbly beseech your Majesty to verify it in me; and to remember your last promise, and my last demand, that "I be not condemned without answer and due proof," which it seems that I now am: for, without cause proved, I am, by your Council, from you, commanded to go to the Tower, a place more wonted for a false traitor than a true subject, which, though I know I desire it not, yet, in the face of all this realm, [it] appears proved. While I pray to GOD I may die the shame-fullest death that ever any died afore, if I may mean any such thing! and to this present hour I protest before GOD (who shall judge my truth, whatsoever malice shall devise), that I never practised, counselled, nor consented to anything that might be prejudicial to your person any way, or dangerous to the State by any means. And therefore, I humbly beseech your Majesty to let me answer afore yourself and not suffer me to trust to your Councillors; yea, and that afore I go to the Tower, if it be possible, if not, before I be further condemned. Howbeit, I trust assuredly your Highness will give me leave to do it, afore I go; that thus shamefully, I may not be cried out on, as I now shall be: yea, and without cause!
Let conscience move your Highness to take some better way with me than to make me be condemned in all men's sight afore my desert known! Also I most humbly beseech your Highness to pardon this my boldness, which innocency procures me to do; together with hope of your natural kindness which I trust will not see me cast away, without desert: which what it is, I would desire no more of GOD but that you truly knew; but which thing, I think and believe you shall never by report know; unless by yourself you hear.
I have heard of many, in my time, cast away for want of coming to the presence of their Prince; and, in late days, I heard my Lord of Somerset say that "If his brother [The Admiral Lord Thomas Seymour] had been suffered to speak with him, he had never suffered; but persuasions were made to him so great that he was brought in belief that he could not live safely if the Admiral lived, and that made him give consent to his death." Though these persons are not to be compared to your Majesty; yet, I pray GOD, as evil persuasions persuade not one sister against the other! and all for that they have heard false report, and not hearken to the truth not known.
Therefore, once again, kneeling with humbleness of heart, because I am not suffered to bow the knees of my body; I humbly crave to speak with your Highness: which I would not be so bold as to desire, if I knew not myself most clear, as I know myself most true.
And as for the traitor Wyatt, he might peradventure, write me a letter; but, on my faith, I never received any from him. And as for the copy of the letter sent to the French King, I pray GOD may confound me eternally if ever I sent him word, message, token, or letter, by any means! And to this truth, I will stand in to my death.
Your Highness's most faithful subject, that hath been from the beginning, and will be to my end,
Elizabeth..
I humbly crave but only one word of answer from yourself.]
And thus the tide [season] and time passed away for that time, till the next day, being Palm Sunday, when, about nine of the clock, these two came again, declaring that "it was time for Her Grace to depart."
She answered, "If there be no remedy, I must be contented;" willing the Lords to go on before.
And being come forth into the garden, she did cast up her eyes towards the window; thinking to have seen the Queen, which she could not. Whereat she said, "She marvelled much, what the Nobility of the realm meant; which, in that sort, would suffer her to be led forth into captivity, the LORD knew whither! for she did not."
After all this, she took her barge, with the two aforesaid Lords, three of the Queen's Gentlewomen, and three of her own, her Gentleman Usher, and two of her Grooms: lying and hovering upon the water, an hour; for that they could not shoot the Bridge [the tide used to rush through the narrow spaces of old London bridge, with the force of a mill-race]: the bargemen being very unwilling to shoot the same so soon as they did, because of the danger thereof. For the stern of the boat struck upon the ground, the fall was so big, and the water was so shallow.
Then Her Grace desired of the Lords, that "She might not land at the stairs where all traitors and offenders customably used to land" [called the Traitor's Gate].
They answered that "it was past their remedy; for that otherwise they had in commandment."
"Well," said she, "if it be so, my Lords! I must needs obey it: protesting before all your Honours, that here now steppeth as true a subject as ever was, towards the Queen's Highness. And before thee, O GOD! I speak it; having none other friends, but only Thee!"
The Lords declared unto her that "there was no time then to try the truth."
"You have said well, my Lords!" quoth she, "I am sorry that I have troubled you!"
So then they passed on [i.e., through the Traitor's Gate], and went into the Tower: where were a great company of harnessed men, and armed soldiers warding on both sides: whereat she being amazed, called the Lords to her, and demanded "the cause, why those poor men stood there?"
They declared unto her, that "it was the use and order of the place so to do."
"And if it be," quoth she, "for my cause; I beseech you that they may be dismissed."
Whereat, the poor men kneeled down, and with one voice, desired GOD to preserve Her Grace; who, the next day, were released of their cold coats.
After this, passing a little further, she sat down upon a cold stone, and there rested herself.
To whom, the Lieutenant [Lord Chandos, see p. 78] then being, said, "Madam, you were best to come out of the rain! for you sit unwholesomely."
She then replying, answered again, "Better sitting here, than in a worse place! For, GOD knoweth! I know not whither you will bring me!"
With that, her Gentleman Usher wept. She demanded of him, "What he meant so uncomfortably to use her, seeing she took him to be her comforter, and not her dis-mayer: especially for that she knew her truth to be such, that no man should have cause to weep for her." But forth she went into the prison.
The doors were locked and bolted upon her; which did not a little discomfort and dismay Her Grace. At what time, she called to her gentlewoman for her book [i.e., her Bible], desiring GOD, "Not to suffer her to build her foundation upon the sands, but upon the rocks! whereby all blasts of blustering weather should have no power against her."
After the doors were thus locked, and she close shut up; the Lords had great conference how to keep ward and watch, every man declaring his opinion in that behalf, agreeing straightly and circumspectly to keep her: while that one of them, I mean the Lord of Sussex, swearing, said, "My Lords! let us take heed! and do no more than our Commission will bear us! whatsoever shall happen hereafter. And, further, let us consider that she was the King our Master's daughter! and therefore let us use such dealing, that we may answer unto it hereafter, if it shall so happen! For just dealing," said he, "is always answerable."
Whereunto the other Lords agreed that it was well said of him: and thereupon departed.
It would make a pitiful and strange story, here by the way, to touch and recite what examinations and rackings of poor men there were, to find out the knife that should cut her throat! what gaping among the Lords of the Clergy to see the day, wherein they might wash their goodly white rochets in her innocent blood? But especially the Bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, then Lord Chancellor, and ruler of the rost.
Who then, within few days after [March, 1554], came unto her, with divers other of the Council, and examined her of the talk that was at Ashridge, betwixt her and Sir James a Croft concerning her removing from thence to Donnington Castle, requiring her to declare, "What she meant thereby?"
At the first, she, being so suddenly taken, did not well remember any such house: but within a while, well advising herself, she said, "Indeed, I do now remember that I have such a place: but I never lay in it, in all my life. And as for any that hath moved me thereunto, I do not remember."
Then to enforce the matter, they brought forth Sir James a Croft.
The Bishop of Winchester demanded of her, "What she said to that man?"
She answered that, "She had little to say to him, or to the rest that were then prisoners in the Tower. But my Lords!" quoth she, "you do examine every mean prisoner of me! wherein, methinks, you do me great injury! If they have done evil, and offended the Queen's Majesty, let them answer to it accordingly. I beseech you, my Lords! join not me in this sort with any of these offenders! And as concerning my going unto Donnington Castle, I do remember Master Hoby and mine Officers, and you Sir James a Croft! had such talk: but what is that to the purpose, my Lords! but that I may go to my own houses at all times?"
The Lord of Arundel, kneeling down, said, "Your Grace saith true! and certainly we are very sorry that we have so troubled you about so vain matters."
She then said, "My Lords, you did sift me very narrowly! But well I am assured, you shall do no more to me, than GOD hath appointed: and so, GOD forgive you all!"
At their departing, Sir James a Croft kneeled down, declaring that "He was sorry to see the day in which he should be brought as a witness against Her Grace." "But, I assure your Grace," said he, "I have been marvellously tossed and examined touching your Highness; which, the Lord knoweth! is strange to me. For I take GOD to record! before all your Honours! I do not know anything of that crime that you have laid to my charge! and will thereupon take my death, if I should be driven to so straight a trial."
[There seems no doubt that at the back of all the following efforts to alleviate and terminate the imprisonment of the Princess, was the ever faithful Sir William Cecil, working by many secret means, as far as he dare.]
[Side note: These were not the Officers of the Tower, but such as went in white and green.]
That day or thereabouts, divers of her own Officers, who had made provision for her diet, brought the same to the utter [outer] gate of the Tower; the common rascal soldiers receiving it: which was no small grief unto the Gentlemen, the bearers thereof.
Wherefore they required to speak with [Sir John Gage] the Lord Chamberlain, being then Constable of the Tower: who, coming before his presence, declared unto his Lordship that "they were much afraid to bring Her Grace's diet, and to deliver it unto such common and desperate persons as they were, which did receive it; beseeching His Honour to consider Her Grace, and to give such order that her viands might at all times be brought in by them which were appointed thereunto."
"Yea, sirs!" said he, "who appointed you this office?"
They answer, "Her Grace's Council!"
"Council!" quoth he, "there is none of them which hath to do, either in that case, or anything else within this place; and, I assure you! for that she is a prisoner, she shall be served with the Lieutenant's men, as the other prisoners are."
Whereat the Gentlemen said that "They trusted for more favour at his hands! considering her personage," saying that "They mistrusted not, but that the Queen and her Council would be better to Her Grace than so!" and therewith shewed themselves to be offended at the ungrateful [harsh] words of the Lord Chamberlain, towards their Lady and Mistress.
At this, he sware, by GOD! stroking himself on the breast; that "If they did either frown or shrug at him; he would set them where they should see neither sun nor moon!"
Thus taking their leave, they desired GOD to bring him into a better mind towards Her Grace, and departed from him.
Upon the occasion whereof [there being always a fear of poisoned food], Her Grace's Officers made great suit unto the Queen's Council, that some might be appointed to bring her diet unto her; and that it might no more be delivered in to the common soldiers of the Tower: which being reasonably considered, was by them granted. Thereupon were appointed one of her Gentlemen, her Clerk of the Kitchen, and her two Purveyors, to bring in her provisions once a day. All which was done. The warders ever waiting upon the bringers thereof (and the Lord Chamberlain himself, being always with them), circumspectly and narrowly watched and searched what they brought; and gave heed that they should have no talk with any of Her Grace's waiting servants; and so warded them both in and out.
At the said suit of her Officers, were sent, by the commandment of the Council, to wait upon Her Grace, two Yeomen of her Chamber, one of her Robes, two of her Pantry and Ewry, one of her Buttery, another of her Cellar, two of her Kitchen, and one of her Larder: all which continued with her, the time of her trouble.
Here the Constable (being at the first not very well pleased with the coming in of such a company against his will) would have had his men still to have served with Her Grace's men: which her servants, at no hand, would suffer; desiring his Lordship to be contented, for "that order was taken that no stranger should come within their offices."
At which answer, being sore displeased, he brake out into these threatening words: "Well," said he, "I will handle you well enough!"
Then went he into the kitchen, and there would needs have his meat roasted with Her Grace's meat; and said "His cook should come thither, and dress it."
To that, Her Grace's Cook answered, "My Lord! I will never suffer any stranger to come about her diet, but her own sworn men, so long as I live!"
He said, "They should!"
But the Cook said, "His Lordship should pardon him for that matter!"
Thus did he trouble her poor servants very stoutly: though afterward he were otherwise advised, and they were more courteously used at his hands. And good cause why! For he had good cheer, and fared of the best; and Her Grace paid well for it.
Wherefore he used himself afterwards more reverently towards Her Grace.
After this sort, having lain a whole month there, in close prison; and being very evil at ease therewithal; she sent [in April] for the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Chandos [see p. 78] to come and speak with her.
Who coming, she requested them that "She might have liberty to walk in some place, for that she felt herself not well."
To the which, they answered that "They were right sorry that they could not satisfy Her Grace's request; for that they had commandment to the contrary, which they durst not in any wise break."
Furthermore, she desired of them, "If that could not be granted; that she might walk but into the 'Queen's Lodgings.'"
"No, nor that!" they answered, "could, by any means, be obtained, without a further suit to the Queen and her Council."
"Well," said she, "my Lords! if the matter be so hard that they must be sued unto, for so small a thing; and that friendship be so strait, God comfort me!"
And so they departed: she remaining in her old dungeon still; without any kind of comfort, but only GOD.
The next day after, the Lord Chandos came again unto Her Grace, declaring unto her that "He had sued unto the Council for further liberty. Some of them consented thereunto. Divers others dissented, for that there were so many prisoners in the Tower. But in conclusion, they did all agree that Her Grace might walk into those 'Lodgings'; so that he and the Lord Chamberlain, and three of the Queen's Gentlewomen did accompany her: and the windows were shut, and she not suffered to look out at any of them." Wherewith, she contented herself; and gave him thanks for his goodwill in that behalf.
Afterwards, there was liberty granted to Her Grace to walk in a little garden, the doors and gates being shut up; which, notwithstanding, was as much discomfort unto her, as the walk in the garden was pleasant and acceptable. At which times of her walking there, the prisoners on that side straightly were commanded not to speak, or look out at the windows into the garden, till Her Grace were gone out again: having in consideration thereof, their keepers waiting upon them for that time.
Thus Her Grace, with this small liberty, contented herself in GOD, to whom be praise therefore.
During this time, there used a little boy, the child of a man in the Tower, to resort to their chambers, and many times to bring Her Grace flowers; which likewise he did to the other prisoners that were there. Whereupon naughty and suspicious heads thinking to make and wring out some matter thereof, called, on a time, the child unto them, promising him figs and apples, and asking, "When he had been with the Earl of Devonshire?" not ignorant of the child's wonted frequenting unto him.
The boy answered that "He would go by-and-by thither."
Further they demanded of him, "When he was with the Lady Elizabeth?"
He answered, "Every day!"
Furthermore they examined him, "What the Lord Devonshire sent by him to Her Grace?"
The child said, "I will go [and] know what he will give to carry to her." Such was the discretion of the child, being yet but three years of age.
"This same is a crafty boy!" quoth the Lord Chamberlain; "what say you, my Lord Chandos?"
"I pray you, my Lord! give me the figs ye promised me!"
"No, marry," quoth he, "thou shalt be whipped if thou come any more to the Lady Elizabeth, or the Lord Courtney!"
The boy answered, "I will bring the Lady, my Mistress, more flowers!"
Whereupon the child's father was commanded to permit the boy no more to come into their chambers.
And the next day, as Her Grace was walking in the garden, the child, peeping in at a hole in the door, cried unto her, saying, "Mistress! I can bring you no more flowers!" Whereat, she smiled, but said nothing; understanding thereby, what they had done.
Wherefore, afterwards, the Lord Chamberlain rebuked his father highly; commanding him to put him out of the house.
"Alas, poor infant!" quoth the father.
"It is a crafty knave!" quoth the Lord Chamberlain. "Let me see him here no more!"
The 5th day of May [1554], the Constable was discharged of his office of the Tower; one Sir Henry Bedingfield being placed in his room. A man unknown to Her Grace, and therefore the more feared: which so sudden [a] mutation was unto her, no little amaze.
He brought with him a hundred soldiers in blue coats; wherewith she was marvellously discomforted; and demanded of such as were about her, "Whether the Lady Jane's scaffold were taken away or not?" fearing, by reason of their coming, least she should have played her part.
To whom, answer was made, that "The scaffold was taken away; and that Her Grace needed not to doubt [fear] any such tyranny, for GOD would not suffer any such treason against her person."
Wherewith, being contented, but not altogether satisfied, she asked, "What Sir H. Bedingfield was? and whether he was of that conscience or not, that if her murdering were secretly committed to his charge, he would see the execution thereof?"
She was answered that "They were ignorant what manner of man he was." Howbeit they persuaded her that GOD would not suffer such wickedness to proceed.
"Well!" quoth she, "GOD grant it be so! For Thou! O GOD! art the withdrawer and mollifier of all such tyrannous hearts and acts! and I beseech Thee! to hear me thy creature! which am Thy servant and at Thy commandment! trusting by Thy grace ever so to remain."
About which time, it was spread abroad, that Her Grace should be carried from thence; by this new jolly captain and his soldiers; but whither, it could not be learned. Which was unto Her Grace a great grief, especially for that such a kind of company was appointed to her guard: requesting rather to continue there still, than to be led thence with such a rascal company.
At last, plain answer was made by the Lord Chandos, that "There was no remedy; but from thence she must needs depart to the Manor of Woodstock, as he thought."
Being demanded of her, "For what cause?"
"For that," quoth he, "the Tower is like[ly] further to be furnished."
Whereat she, being more greedy, as far as she durst, demanded, "wherewith!"
He answered, "With such matter as the Queen and Council were determined in that behalf: whereof he had no knowledge." And so departed.
In conclusion, the 16th day of May she was removed from the Tower: the Lord Treasurer [the Marquis of Winchester] being then there, for the lading of her carts, and discharging the Place of the same.
Where Sir Henry Bedingfield, being appointed her goaler, did receive her with a company of rakehells to guard her; besides the Lord of Derby's Band [servants] wafting in the country about, for the moonshine in the water[!]. Unto whom, at length came, my Lord [Williams] of Thame, joined in Commission, with the said Sir Henry for the safe guiding of her to prison. And they together conveyed Her Grace to Woodstock, as hereafter followeth.
The first day [16th May], they conducted her to Richmond, where she continued all night: being restrained of her own men, which were laid out in chambers; and Sir Henry Bedingfield his soldiers appointed in their rooms, to give attendance on her person.
Whereat she, being marvellously dismayed, thinking verily some secret mischief a working towards her, called her Gentleman Usher, and desired him with the rest of his company to pray for her, "For this night," quoth she, "I think to die."
Whereat he being stricken to the heart, said, "GOD forbid that any such wickedness should be pretended [intended] against your Grace!"
So comforting her as well as he could, he at last burst out in tears; and went from her down into the court where were walking the Lord [Williams] of Thame, and Sir Henry Bedingfield; and he staying aside the Lord of Thame, who had proffered to him much friendship, desire to speak with him a word or two.
Unto whom, he familiarly said, "He should with all his heart."
Which when Sir Henry standing by, heard, he asked, "What the matter was?"
To whom the Gentleman Usher answered, "No great matter, sir, but to speak with my Lord a word or two!"
Then when the Lord of Thame came to him he spake in this wise, "My Lord! you have always been my good Lord, and so I beseech you to remain. Why I come to you at this time, is to desire your Honour, unfeignedly to declare unto me, whether any danger is meant unto my Mistress this night or not? that I and my poor fellows may take such part as [it] shall please GOD to appoint. For certainly we will rather die, than she should secretly and innocently miscarry."
"Marry," said the Lord of Thame, "GOD forbid that any such wicked purpose should be wrought! and rather than it should be so, I, with my men, are ready to die at her feet also."
And so, GOD be praised! they passed that doubtful night, with no little heaviness of heart.
The next day [17th May] passing over the water [i.e., the Thames] at Richmond, going towards Windsor; Her Grace espied certain of her poor servants standing on the other side, which were very desirous to see her. Whom, when she beheld, turning to one of her men standing by, said, "Yonder, I see certain of my men; go to them! and say these words from me, Tanquam ovis!"
So, she passing forward to Windsor, was lodged there that night, in the Dean of Windsor's house: a place indeed more meet for a priest, than a Princess.
And from thence [on 18th May] Her Grace was guarded and brought the next night, to Master Dormer's house; where much people standing by the way, some presented to her one gift, and some another. So that Sir Henry was greatly moved thereat, and troubled the poor people very sore, for shewing their loving hearts in such a manner; calling them "Rebels!" and "Traitors!" with such like vile words.
Besides, as she passed through the villages, the townsmen rang the bells, as being joyful of her coming; thinking verily it had been otherwise than it was indeed: and as the sequel proved after, to the poor men. For immediately the said Sir Henry hearing the same, sent his soldiers hither: who apprehended some of the ringers, setting them in the stocks, and otherwise uncourteously misused some others for their good wills.
On the morrow [18th May] Her Grace passed from Master Dormer's, where was, for the time of her abode, a straight watch kept; came to the Lord of Thame his house [at Thame] where she lay all the next night; being very princely entertained, both of Knights and Ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen. Whereat Sir Henry Bedingfield gronted [grunted] and was highly offended, saying unto them that "They could not tell what they did, and were not able to answer to their doings in that behalf; letting them to understand that she was the Queen's Majesty's prisoner, and no otherwise; advising them therefore to take heed, and beware of after claps!"
Whereunto, the Lord of Thame answered him in this wise, that "He was well advised of [in] his doings, being joined in Commission as well as he," adding with warrant, that "Her Grace might, and should, in his house, be merry."
After this, Sir Henry went up into a chamber, where were appointed for Her Grace, a chair, two cushions, and a foot-carpet, very fair and prince-like; wherein presumptuously he sat, calling for Barwick, his man, to pull off his boots: which as soon as it was known among the ladies and gentles, every one musing thereat, did laugh him to scorn; and observed his indiscreet manners in that behalf, as they might very well.
When supper was done, he called my Lord, and willed him that all the Gentlemen and Ladies should withdraw themselves; every one to his lodging: marvelling much that he would permit there such a company; considering so great a charge was committed to him.
"Sir Henry!" quoth my Lord, "content yourself! All shall be voided, your men and all."
"Nay, my soldiers," quoth Sir Henry, "shall watch all night."
The said Lord of Thame answered, "It shall not need."
"Well," said he, "need or need not, they shall do so," mistrusting, belike, the company; which, GOD knoweth, was without cause.
The next day [19th May] Her Grace took her journey from thence, to Woodstock; where she was enclosed, as before in the Tower of London; the soldiers guarding and warding both within and without the walls, every day to the number of three score, and, in the night, without the walls forty; during the time of her imprisonment there.
At length, she had gardens appointed for her walks, which were very comfortable to Her Grace. Always when she did recreate herself therein, the doors were fast locked up, in as straight a manner as they were in the Tower; there being at the least five or six locks between her lodging and her walks; Sir Henry himself keeping the keys, trusted no man therewith.
Whereupon she called him "her gaoler:" and he, kneeling down, desired Her Grace not to call him so, for he was appointed there to be one of her Officers.
"From such Officers," quoth she, "good Lord, deliver me!"
And now, by way of digression, or rather of refreshing the reader (if it be lawful in so serious a story to recite a matter incident, and yet not impertinent to the same) occasion here moveth or rather enforceth me to touch briefly what happened in the same place and time, by a certain merry conceited man, being then about Her Grace. Who (noting the straight and strange keeping of his Lady and Mistress by the said Sir Henry Bedingfield, with so many locks and doors, with such watch and ward about her, as was strange and wonderful) spied a goat in the ward where Her Grace was; and (whether to refresh her oppressed mind, or to notify her straight handling by Sir Henry; or else both), he took it up on his neck, and followed Her Grace therewith, as she was going to her lodging. Who, when she saw it, asked him, "What he would do with him?" willing him to let it alone.
Unto whom, the said party answered, "No, by Saint Mary! if it like your Grace! will I not! For I cannot tell whether he be one of the Queen's friends or not. I will, GOD willing! carry him to Sir Henry Bedingfield, to know what he is."
So, leaving Her Grace, went, with the goat on his neck, and carried it to Sir Henry Bedingfield; who, when he saw him coming with it, asked him half angrily, "What he had there?"
Unto whom the party answered, saying, "Sir! I cannot tell what he is. I pray you, examine him! for I found him in the place where my Lady's Grace was walking, and what talk they have had, I cannot tell. For I understand him not, but he should seem to me to be some stranger: and I think verily a Welshman, for he hath a white frieze coat on his back. And forasmuch as I being the Queen's subject, and perceiving the strait charge committed to you of her keeping, that no stranger should have access to her, without sufficient license: I have here found a stranger (what he is, I cannot tell) in the place where Her Grace was walking; and, therefore, for the necessary discharge of my duty, I thought it good to bring the said stranger to you to examine, as you see cause." And so he set him down.
At which his words, Sir Henry Bedingfield seemed much displeased, and said, "Well! well! you will never leave this gear, I see." And so they departed.
Now to return to the matter from whence we have digressed.
After Her Grace's being there a time [i.e., about a year], she made suit to the Council, that she might be suffered to write to the Queen; which, at last, was permitted to Her Grace. So that Sir Henry Bedingfield brought her pen, ink, and paper; and standing by her, while she wrote, which he very straitly observed; always, she being weary, would carry away her letters, and bring them again when she called for them.
In the finishing thereof, he would have been messenger to the Queen of the same; whose request Her Grace denied, saying, "One of her own men should carry them; and that she would neither trust him, nor none of his thereabouts."
Then he answering again, said, "None of them durst be so bold," he trowed, "to carry her letters, being in her present case!"
"Yes," quoth she, "I am assured I have none so dishonest that would deny my request in that behalf; but will be as willing to serve me now as before."
"Well," said he, "my Commission is to the contrary; and may not suffer it."
Her Grace, replying again, said, "You charge me very often with your Commission! I pray GOD you may justly answer the cruel dealing ye deal with me!"
Then he kneeling down, desired Her Grace to think and consider how he was a servant, and put in trust there by the Queen to serve Her Majesty: protesting that if the case were hers, he would as willingly serve Her Grace, as now he did the Queen's Highness.
For the which answer, Her Grace thanked him, desiring GOD that she might never have need of such servants as he was: declaring further to him that his doings towards her were not good or answerable, but more than all the friends he had, would stand by; for in the end, she plainly told him, they would forsake him.
To whom, Sir Henry replied, and said that "There was no remedy but his doings must be answered; and so they should, trusting to make a good account thereof."
The cause which moved Her Grace so to say, was for that he would not permit her letters to be carried, four or five days after the writing thereof. But, in fine, he was content to send for her Gentleman from the town of Woodstock, demanding of him, "Whether he durst enterprise the carriage of Her Grace's letters to the Queen or not?"
And he answered, "Yea, sir! That I dare, and will, with all my heart."
Whereupon, Sir Henry, half against his stomach, took them to him, to the effect aforesaid.
Then, about the 8th of June [1555] came down Doctor Owen and Doctor Wendif, sent by the Queen to Her Grace, for that she was sickly; who ministering to her, and letting her blood, tarried there, and attended on Her Grace five or six days: who being well amended, they returned again to the Court, making their good report to the Queen and Council, of Her Grace's behaviour and humbleness towards the Queen's Highness; which Her Majesty hearing, took very thankfully. But the Bishops thereat repined, looked black in the mouth, and told the Queen, they "marvelled she submitted not herself to Her Majesty's mercy, considering that she had offended Her Highness."
Wily champions, ye may be sure! and friends at a need! GOD amend them!
About this time, Her Grace was requested by a secret friend, "to submit herself to the Queen's Majesty; which would be very well taken, and to her great quiet and commodity."
Unto whom, she answered that "She would never submit herself to them whom she had never offended! For," quoth she, "if I have offended, and am guilty; I then crave no mercy, but the law! which I am certain I should have had, ere this, if it could be proved by me. For I know myself, I thank GOD! to be out of the danger thereof, wishing that I were as clear out of the peril of my enemy; and then I am sure I should not be so locked and bolted up within walls and doors as I am. GOD give them a better mind! when it pleaseth Him."
About this time [i.e., after the Queen's marriage on 3rd July 1555] was there a great consulting among the Bishops and gentlemen, touching a marriage for Her Grace: which some of the Spaniards wished to be with some stranger, that she might go out of the realm with her portion. Some saying one thing, and some another.
A Lord [Lord Paget] being there, at last said that "the King should never have any quiet common wealth in England; unless her head were stricken from the shoulders."
Whereunto the Spaniards answered, saying, "GOD forbid that their King and Master should have that mind to consent to such a mischief!" This was the courteous answer of the Spaniards to the Englishmen speaking, after that sort, against their own country.
From that day, the Spaniards never left off their good persuasions to the King, that the like honour he should never obtain as he should in delivering the Lady Elizabeth's Grace out of prison: whereby, at length, she was happily released from the same.
Here is a plain and evident example of the good nature and clemency of the King and his Councillors towards Her Grace. Praised be GOD therefore! who moved their hearts therein.
Then hereupon, she was sent for, shortly after, to come to Hampton Court.
In her imprisonment at Woodstock, these verses she wrote with her diamond, in a glass window.
Much suspected by me,
Nothing proved can be,
Quoth Elizabeth the prisoner.
[In the Second Edition of his Actes,&c., published in 1570 under the fresh title of Ecclesiastical History, p. 2,294; John Fox gives the following additional information of the Woodstock imprisonment.
And thus much touching the troubles of Lady Elizabeth at Woodstock.
Whereunto this is more to be added, that during the same time the Lord [Williams] of Thame had laboured for the Queen, and became surety for her, to have her from Woodstock to his house, and had obtained grant thereof. But (through the procurement either of Master Bedingfield, or by the doing of [the Bishop of] Winchester, her mortal enemy), letters came over night, to the contrary: whereby her journey was stopped.
Thus, this worthy Lady, oppressed with continual sorrow, could not be permitted to have recourse to any friends she had; but still in the hands of her enemies, was left desolate, and utterly destitute of all that might refresh a doleful heart, fraught full of terror and thraldom. Whereupon no marvel, if she hearing, upon a time, out of her garden at Woodstock, a certain milkmaid singing pleasantly, wished herself to be a milkmaid, as she was: saying that "Her case was better, and life more merry than hers, in that state she was.">[
Sir Henry Bedingfield and his soldiers, with the Lord [Williams] of Thame, and Sir Ralph Chamberlain guarding and waiting upon her, the first night [July 1555] from Woodstock, she came to Rycot.
The next night to Master Dormer's; and so to Colebrook, where she lay all that night at the George. By the way, coming to the said Colebrook, certain of her gentlemen and yeomen, to the number of three score met Her Grace, much to all their comforts: which had not seen Her Grace of long season before, neither could: but were commanded, in the Queen's name, "immediately to depart the town," to Her Grace's no little heaviness and theirs, who could not be suffered once to speak with from them. So that night all her men were taken her, saving her Gentleman Usher, three gentlewomen, two Grooms, and one of her Wardrobe; the Soldiers watching and warding round-about the house, and she shut up close within her prison.
The next day Her Grace entered Hampton Court on the back side, unto the Prince's Lodgings. The doors being shut to her; and she, guarded with soldiers as before, lay there a fortnight at the least, ere ever any had recourse unto her.
At length, came the Lord William Howard, who marvellously honourably used Her Grace: whereat she took much comfort, and requested him to be a means that she might speak with some of the Council.
To whom, not long after came the Bishop of Winchester, the Lord of Arundel, the Lord of Shrewsbury, and Secretary Petre; who, with great humility, humbled themselves to Her Grace.
She again likewise saluting them, said, "My Lords! I am glad to see you! For, methinks, I have been kept a great while from you, desolately alone. Wherefore I would desire you to be a means to the King's and Queen's Majesties, that I may be delivered from prison, wherein I have been kept a long space, as to you, my Lords, is not unknown!"
When she had spoken, Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester kneeled down, and requested that "She would submit herself to the Queen's Grace; and in so doing he had no doubt but that Her Majesty would be good unto her."
She made answer that "rather than she would do so, she would lie in prison all the days of her life:" adding that "she craved no mercy at Her Majesty's hand, but rather desired the law, if ever she did offend her Majesty in thought, word, or deed. And besides this, in yielding," quoth she, "I should speak against myself, and confess myself to be an offender, which I never was towards Her Majesty; by occasion whereof, the King and Queen, might ever hereafter conceive an ill opinion of me: and, therefore, I say, my Lords! it were better for me to lie in prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of my Prince."
And so they departed, promising to declare her message to the Queen.
On the next day [July 1555] the Bishop of Winchester came again unto Her Grace, and kneeling down, declared that "The Queen marvelled that she should so stoutly use herself, not confessing to have offended; so that it should seem the Queen's Majesty wrongfully to have imprisoned Her Grace."
"Nay," quoth my Lady Elizabeth, "it may please her to punish me, as she thinketh good."
"Well," quoth Gardiner, "Her Majesty willeth me to tell you, that you must tell another tale ere that you be set at liberty."
Her Grace answered that "She had as lief be in prison with honesty and truth, as to be abroad suspected of Her Majesty. And this that I have said, I will stand to. For I will never belie myself!"
The Lord of Winchester again kneeled down, and said, "Then your Grace hath the vantage of me and the other Lords, for your long and wrong imprisonment."
"What vantage I have," quoth she, "you know; taking GOD to record, I seek no vantage at your hands, for your so dealing with me. But GOD forgive you, and me also!"
With that, the rest kneeled, desiring Her Grace that "all might be forgotten," and so departed, she being fast locked up again.
A sevennight after [July 1555], the Queen's Majesty sent for Her Grace, at ten of the clock in the night, to speak with her. For she had not seen her in two years before. Yet for all that, she was amazed at the so sudden sending for, thinking it had been worse for her, than afterwards proved; and desired her gentlemen and gentlewomen to "pray for her! for that she could not tell whether ever she should see them again or not."
At which time, coming in with Sir Henry Bedingfield and Mistress Clarencius [p. [216]], Her Grace was brought into the garden, unto a stairs' foot, that went into the Queen's Lodging; Her Grace's gentlewomen waiting upon her, her Gentleman Usher and his grooms going before with torches. Where her gentlemen and gentlewomen being all commanded to stay, saving one woman; Mistress Clarencius conducted her to the Queen's bedchamber, where Her Majesty was.
At the sight of whom, Her Grace kneeled down, and desired GOD to "preserve Her Majesty! not mistrusting, but that she should try herself as true a subject towards Her Majesty as ever any did," and desired Her Majesty even so to judge of her; and said "she should not find her to the contrary; whatsoever false report otherwise had gone of her."
To whom, the Queen answered, "You will not confess your offence; but stand stoutly in your truth! I pray GOD! it may so fall out."
"If it do not," quoth she, "I request neither favour nor pardon at your Majesty's hands."
"Well," said the Queen, "you stiffly still persevere in your truth! Belike, you will not confess but that you have wrongly punished!"
"I must not say so, if it please your Majesty! to you!"
"Why, then," said the Queen, "belike you will to others."
"No, if it please your Majesty!" quoth she, "I have borne the burden, and must bear it. I humbly beseech your Majesty to have a good opinion of me, and to think me to be your true subject; not only from the beginning, hitherto; but for ever, as long as life lasteth."
And so they departed [separated], with very few comfortable words of the Queen in English. But what she said in Spanish, GOD knoweth! It is thought that King Philip was there, behind a cloth [tapestry], and not shewn; and that he shewed himself a very friend in that matter, &c.
Thus Her Grace departing, went to her lodging again; and the sevennight after, was released of Sir Henry Bedingfield, "her gaoler," as she termed him, and his soldiers.
So Her Grace, set at liberty from imprisonment, went into the country, and had appointed to go with her, Sir Thomas Pope, one of Queen Mary's Councillors; and one of her Gentleman Ushers, Master Gage; and thus straitly was she looked to, all Queen Mary's time.
And this is the discourse of Her Highness's imprisonment.
Then there came to Lamheyre, Master Jerningham, and Norris, Gentleman Usher, Queen Mary's men; who took away from Her Grace, Mistress Asheley to the Fleet, and three others of her gentlemen to the Tower; which thing was no little trouble to Her Grace, saying, that "she thought they would fetch all away at the end." But God be praised! shortly after was fetched away Gardiner, through the merciful providence of the LORD's goodness, by occasion of whose opportune decease [13th November, 1555] the life of this so excellent Prince that is the wealth of England, was preserved.
After the death of this Gardiner; followed the death also, and dropping away of others, her enemies; whereby, by little and little, her jeopardy decreased, fear diminished, hope of more comfort began to appear, as out of a dark cloud; and though as yet Her Grace had no full assurance of perfect safety, yet more gentle entertainment daily did grow unto her, till the same day, which took away the said Queen Mary, brought in the same her foresaid sister, Lady Elizabeth in to the right of the Crown of England. Who, after so long restrainment, so great dangers escaped, such blusterous storms overblown, so many injuries digested and wrongs sustained: the mighty protection of our merciful GOD, to our no little safeguard, hath exalted and erected, out of thrall, to liberty; out of danger, to peace and rule; from dread, to dignity; from misery, to majesty; from mourning, to ruling; briefly, of a prisoner, hath made her a Prince; and hath placed her in her royal throne, being placed and proclaimed Queen with as many glad hearts of her subjects, as ever was any King or Queen in this realm before, or ever shall be (I think) hereafter.
In whose advancement, and this her princely governance, it cannot sufficiently be expressed what felicity and blessed happiness this realm hath received, in receiving her at the LORD's almighty and gracious hand. For as there have been divers Kings and Rulers over this realm, and I have read of some; yet could I never find in English Chronicles, the like that may be written of this our noble and worthy Queen, whose coming in was not only so calm, so joyful, so peaceable, without shedding of any blood; but also her reigning hitherto (reign now four years and more) hath been so quiet, that yet (the LORD have all the glory!) to this present day, her Sword is a virgin, spotted and polluted with no drop of blood.
In speaking whereof, I take not upon me the part of the Moral, or of the Divine Philosopher, to Judge of things done; but only keep me within the compass of an Historiographer, declaring what hath been before; and comparing things done, with things now present, the like whereof, as I said, is not to be found lightly in Chronicles before. And this, as I speak truly, so would I to be taken without flattery; to be left to our posterity, ad sempiternam clementiæ illius memoriam.
In commendation of which her clemency, I might also here add, how mildly Her Grace, after she was advanced to her Kingdom, did forgive the said Sir Henry Bedingfield; suffering him, without molestation, to enjoy goods, life, lands, and liberty. But I let this pass.
Thus hast thou, gentle Reader! simply but truly described unto thee, the time, first, of the sorrowful adversity of this our most Sovereign Queen that now is; also, the miraculous preserving her in so many straights and distresses: which I thought here briefly to notify, the rather for that the wondrous works of the LORD ought not to be suppressed; and that also Her Majesty, and we her poor subjects likewise, having thereby a present matter always before our eyes, be admonished how much we are bound to His Divine majesty, and also to render thanks to Him condignly for the same.
¶ A compendious Register in
metre, containing the names and patient
sufferings of the members of Jesus Christ, and the
tormented, and cruelly burned within England;
since the death of our famous King, of immortal
memory, EDWARD the Sixth, to the entrance
and beginning of the reign of our Sovereign
and dearest Lady ELIZABETH, of
England, France, and Ireland, Queen;
Defender of the Faith; to whose Highness
truly and properly appertaineth, next
and immediately under GOD, the
supreme power and authority
of the Churches
of
England and
Ireland.
So be it.
Anno. 1559.
Apocalypse 7.
And one of the angels (saith Saint
John) spake, saying unto me, "What
are they, which are arrayed in long white
garments; and whence come they?" (before
the people, before sealed by the angel). And
I said unto him, "Lord, thou wottest!"
And he said unto me, "These are they
which came out of great tribulation; and
washed their garments, and made
them white in the blood of the
Lamb. Therefore are they in
the presence of the Throne of
GOD, and serve Him, day and
night, in His Temple:
and He that sitteth
in the Throne
will
dwell among
them."
To the Right Honourable
Lord Parr, Marquis of Northampton;
Thomas Price, your Lordship's daily Orator,
wisheth continual increase of grace,
concord, and consolation in Him
that is, was, and is to come,
even the First and
the Last.
Amen.
It may please your goodness, Honourable Lord! to receive in good part, the little labour of my pen: which, albeit the rudeness and quantity thereof procureth not to be dedicate[d] to so honourable a Personage; yet the matter itself is of such worthiness, as duly deserveth to be graven in gold. But who goeth about so finely to depict with Apelles's instrument, this said Register, thinking to exceed the rest? Not I! poor wretch! because I am assured that such a worthy work as thereof may be written, cannot, neither shall pass untouched among so many godly learned. But were it, that no man hereafter should, in more ample and learned manner, set forth the same; yet should my presumption (if I so meant) be turned to reproach: for this I believe, that they be in such sort registered in the Book of the Living, as passeth either pen, ink, or memory to declare.
This my simplicity and too bold attempt might move your Honour to conjecture in me much rudeness, or, at the least, might persuade me so to think: but that experience hath showed me the humility and gentleness of your long tried patience; the certain knowledge whereof hath pricked me forward in this my pretence. And being thereunto requested of a faithful brother and friend; I have, with more industry than learning, GOD knoweth! finished the same.
Which being, as I thought, brought to good end; I desired, according to the accustomed manner, to dedicate the same unto such [an] one, as would not contemn so simple a gift. And calling you to mind, Right Honourable Lord! I knew none more meet. First, because your knowledge in Christ teacheth you the same godly and virtuous life; which not only your Lordship, but all other Honourable, &c., ought to ensue. Secondly, because these late years, you have had good experience of the troubles and miseries of the faithful, which have patiently embraced in their arms, the comfortable, although painful, cross of Christ; which, in so great a number, is commonly not so plenteous as commendable. But what stand I praising this patience in them (which yet deserveth the same)? seeing the mighty GOD and His Christ hath prepared, from everlasting, for such, a glorious, rich and incomprehensible Crown of Felicity and continual comforts.
This my short and simple work, I commend and dedicate unto your Lordship! craving pardon at your hands, for this my too homely and rude enterprise: considering that albeit golden fruit were offered in pewter and by the hands of a simple man; yet is the fruit notwithstanding still precious, and neither abased by the pewter, nor the giver. Even so, Honourable Lord! though the verses be simple, and the giver unworthy: yet the fruit or matter is precious, comfortable and good.
The order to attain to the perfect understanding of my mind, in setting forth the same with figures and letters, shall largely appear in this book: which I have not only done to make plain unto your Honour, the year, month, and day; but also, to all others that hereafter shall read it. For that I do pretend [design], if GOD and favour will permit it, to use the same as common to the profit of all: for which cause, I have also placed a Preface to the Reader.
But that it may please your Honour, in respect of the premises, to extend your favourable assistance to the manifest setting forth of this short and simple work, to the glory of the great and mighty GOD, and to the comfort of Christians: I, as unworthy and too bold a suitor, most humbly craveth your Lordship's aid and supportation in the same; especially to bear [with] the rudeness of my unlearned style, which, alas, I lament.
But now ceasing to trouble your Lordship any longer, this shall be my continual prayer for you.
The wisdom of GOD direct your Honour!
The mercy of GOD give you spiritual power!
The HOLY GHOST guide and comfort
you, with all fulness of
consolation in
Christ Jesus!
Amen.
Your Lordship's daily orator,
Thomas Brice.
To the Gentle Reader,
mercy and peace!
May it please thee, gentle Reader, to take in good worth this short and simple Register, containing the names of divers, although not all, both men, women, and virgins, &c., who, for the profession of Christ their Captain, have been most miserably afflicted, tormented, and [im]prisoned; and, in fine, either died by some occasion in prison, or else erected [gone to heaven] in the charret [fiery chariot] of Elias, since the 4th day of February, 1555, to the 17th day of November, 1558, wherein (according to the determination of our most merciful Father) our long wished for and most noble Queen, Elizabeth, was placed Governess and Queen, by general Proclamation; to the great comfort of all true English hearts.
This I commit to thy friendly acceptation and favourable scanning, gentle Reader, and albeit, I doubt not but some, of godly zeal, both wise and learned, will not neglect, hereafter, to set forth so worthy a work, namely, of the martyrdom and patient sufferings of Christ's elect Members; and also of the tyrannical tragedies of the unmerciful Ministers of Satan: yet, at the request of a dear friend, to whom love and Nature hath linked me, I could not, without ingratitude, deny his lawful desire, attempting the same; also, rather because it might be manifest to the eyes of the world, and also put the learned, of godly zeal, in memory more amply to enlarge; and, at their good discretion, to set forth the same. Pardon my rudeness, therefore, I beseech thee! considering that will in the unable is to be esteemed. Look not upon the baseness of the metre! the true number whereof cannot easily be observed in such a gathering of names: but, with lifted eyes of the mind, meditate upon the omnipotent power of GOD! which hath given and wrought such constancy in His children, in these our days, that even in fiery flambes [flames] and terrible torments, they have not ceased to invocate and extol the name of their Creator, Redeemer, and Comforter, according to the saying of the cxlviii. Psalm, "Young men and maidens, old men and children" have set forth His worthy and excellent praise. So that the same just and righteous GOD, who, for our sins, corrected us, and gave us over into the hands of the most bloody and viperous generation, to be eaten like bread: hath now, of His mercy alone, "exalted the horn of His people." Therefore all His saints shall praise Him.
Farewell!
T. B.
