Once in a time of peril she mounted a white horse and rode through her army, very stately, in a steel corselet, bareheaded, her page bearing her plumed helmet, and spoke in words unsurpassed for appeal:
"My loving people, we have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I do assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear. I have always so behaved myself that under God I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you as you see me at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved in the midst and heat of battle to live or die amongst you all, to lay down for my God, and for my kingdoms, and for my people my honor, and my blood even in the dust. I know I have the body of a weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart of a King, and of a King of England, too, and think foul scorn that Parma of Spain, or any Prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which, rather than any dishonor should grow by me, I myself will take up arms. I myself will be your General, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know already for your forwardness you have deserved rewards and crowns, and we do assure you, on the word of a Prince, they shall be duly paid you.
"For the mean time my Lieutenaut-General shall be in my stead, than whom never Prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your obedience to my General, by your concord in camp and your valor in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over these enemies of my God, of my kingdoms, and of my people."
No wonder the troops fell on their knees as one man, and shouted themselves hoarse in applause for their lion Queen, mother of all true Englishmen.
HENRY THE SEVENTH'S CHAPEL.
The gentlest of peacemakers is Time. The two daughters of Henry the Eighth—Mary and Elizabeth—so wide apart and repellent in life, are at one now. Henry the Seventh's Chapel of Westminster Abbey contains a narrow vault that holds what remains of the rival Queens. Their tomb allows no other tenant, and they will never more be divided. In calm after storm the unquiet Tudor sisters lie there alone, the leaden casket of Elizabeth resting on the coffin of Mary, well named the Bloody. Heirs of a contested throne, they sleep together in their Palace of Peace awaiting the call of the Angel of the Resurrection.