“Go thy ways, Jack!” was all Dr Thorpe would say.
In the evening Mr Ive came in; who said he had been to Newgate to visit his friend, Mr Underhill.
“And poor Underhill,” said he, “is fallen sick of a burning ague in that loathsome gaol. He doth account the cause to be the evil savours and the unquietness of the lodging; as may be also the drinking of a strong draught wherein his fellow-prisoner would needs have him to pledge him. He can take no rest, desiring to change his lodging, and so hath he done from one to an other; but none can he abide, having so much noise of the prisoners and naughty savours. Now his wife hath leave to come unto him for to tend him in his sickness; but he is constrained to pay eightpence every meal, and as much for her.”
“And how is he treated of Alisaunder?” said John. “Not over well, I warrant you.”
“Nay, there you are out,” said Mr Ive; “for (as Underhill told me), the very first night that he went in, one of the prisoners took acquaintance of him, whose name was Bristo, and would have him to have a bed in his chamber. He had been with Sir Richard Cromwell in his journey to Landrecies, that Underhill also was in, and could play well on a rebeck, and was a Protestant, which yet he kept secret, or (saith he to Underhill), ‘I had never found such favour as I do at the keeper’s hand and his wife’s; for to such as love the Gospel they be very cruel.’—‘Well (saith Underhill), I have sent for my Bible, and, by God’s grace, therein shall be my daily exercise. I will not hide it from them.’—‘Sir (answered he), I am poor, but they will bear with you, for that they see your estate is to pay well; and I will show you the nature and manner of them, for I have been here a good while. They both do love music very well; wherefore you with your lute, and I with my rebeck, will please them greatly. He loveth to be merry and to drink wine, and she also; and if you will bestow upon them every dinner and supper a quart of wine and some music, you shall be their white son (favourite), and have all their favour that they can show you.’ And so, as Underhill told me, he found it come to pass.”
“And where is the babe?” said Isoult, pityingly.
“My Nell hath little Guilford,” answered Mr Ive, “and maketh as much ado of him, as she were his own mother. Concern you not for him; with God’s blessing, the child shall fare well.”
On Tower Hill, whither they had sent so many better than themselves, on the 22nd of August, Sir John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, and Sir Thomas Palmer, ended their wretched and evil lives. With them died Sir John Gates.
The Duke rehearsed his confession, as he had made it in the chapel; avowing himself to be of the old learning, “and a Christian now, for these sixteen years I have been none.” Which last was the truth. And he said, “he would every man not to be covetous, for that had been a great part of his destruction.” And so he tied the handkerchief over his own eyes, and lay down on the block, and his head was struck off.
So ended this miserable man; for whom it had been a thousand times better that he had never been born, than to have destroyed himself and England together, and to have offended so bitterly Christ’s little ones.