John Bon and mast Parson.

Lord! teach me the understanding of Thy commandments! that I may apply myself for the keeping of the same, as long as I live! Give me such wisdom that I may understand, and so to fulfil the thing that Thy law deviseth! to keep it also with my whole heart, that I do nothing against it! Guide me after the true understanding of Thy commandments! for that hath been always my special desire. Incline mine heart unto the love of Thy statutes, and cause me utterly to abhor covetousness! Turn mine eyes aside! lest they be 'tangled with the love of most vain things; but lead me, rather, unto life through Thy warnings! Set such a Word before Thy servant, as may most chiefly further him to worship Thee! Take away the shame that I am afraid of! for Thy judgements are greatly mixed with mercy. As for me, verily, I have loved Thy commandments; wherefore keep me alive according to Thy righteousness!

Love GOD, above all things! and thy neighbour as thyself!
That this is Christ's doctrine, no man can it deny,
Which little is regarded in England's commonwealth,
Wherefore great plagues at hand be, the realm for to destroy.

Do as thou wouldst be done unto! No place here he can have.
Of all he is refused. No man will him receive.
But Private Wealth, that cursed wretch, and most vile slave!
Over all, he is embraced; and fast to him, they cleave.

He that hath this world's goods, and seeth his neighbour lack;
And of him hath no compassion, nor sheweth him no love,
Nor relieveth his necessity, but suffers him to go to wrack;
GOD dwelleth not in that man, the Scriptures plainly prove.

Example we have by Dives, that daintily did fare,
In worldly wealth and riches therein he did excel;
Of poor Lazarus's misery he had thereof no care:
Therefore was suddenly taken, and tormented in hell.

John Bon and mast Parson.

☞ Alas, poor fools! so sore ye be lade!
No marvel is it, though your shoulders ache:
For ye bear a great god which ye yourselves made.
Make of it, what ye will! it is a Wafer Cake;
And between two irons, printed it is and bake.
And look, where idolatry is, Christ will not be there!
Wherefore, lay down your burden! An idol, ye do bear!
☞ Alas, poor fools!

[This attack on the Mass, written by Doctor Luke Shepherd, one of the very earliest productions of the press of the celebrated Elizabethan printer, John Day, was apparently printed in 1551; and is reprinted here from the Percy Society's text, on account of Underhill's story respecting it at p. 96.]

John Bon and mast Parson.

What, John Bon! Good morrow to thee!

Now, good morrow, mast[er] Parson, so mut I thee!

What meanest thou, John! to be at work so soon?

The sooner I begin, the sooner shall I have done,
For I 'tend to work no longer than none.

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.

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?

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.

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.

Why, neighbour John, and art thou now there?
Now I may perceive ye love this new gear.

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.

No did! Why sayest thou so? Upon thyself, thou lyest!
Thou hast ever known the sacrament to be the body of Christ!

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!

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.

No spleaser, mast[er] Parson! Then make ye Christ an elf;
And the maddest made man, that ever body saw!

What! peace, mad man! Thou speakest like a daw!
It is not possible his manhood for to see.

Why, sir; ye tell me it is even very He:
And if it be not His manhood, His godhead it must be.

I tell thee, none of both! What meanest thou? Art thou mad?

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!

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.

I cry ye mercy, mast[er] Parson! Patience for a season!
In all this cumlication is neither felony nor treason.

No, by the mass! But hearest thou! It is plain heresy.

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.

I meant not so. Thou tookest me wrong!

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.

No, John! I was but a little overseen:
But thou meantest not good faith, I ween,
In all this talk that was us between.

I! No, trow, it shall not so been
That John Bon shall an heretic be called,
Then might he lay him so foul befald.

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.

Go to, mast[er] Parson! Say on, and well to thrive!
Ye be the jolliest gemman [gentleman] that ever saw in my life.

We shall first have Matins. Is it not a godly hearing?

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!

Then have we Procession, and Christ about we bear.

That is a poison holy thing, for GOD Himself is there.

Then come we in, and ready us dress,
Full solemnly to go to Mess.

Is not here a mischievous thing!
The Mess is vengeance holy, for all their saying!

Then say we Confiteor and Miseriatur.

Jeze LORD! 'tis abominable matter!

And then we stand up to the altar.

This gear is as good as Our Lady's Psalter.

And so go forth with the other deal
Till we have read the Pistel and Gospel.

That is good, mast[er] Parson, I know right well.

Is that good! Why, what say'st thou to the other?

Marry! horribly good! I say none other.

So is all the Mess, I dare avow this,
As good in every point as Pistel or Gospel is.

The foul evil it is! Who would think so much?
In faith, I ever thought that it had been no such.

Then have we the Canon, that is holiest.

A spiteful gay thing, of all that ever I wist.

Then have we the Memento, even before the sacring.

Ye are morenly well learned! I see by your reck'ning
That ye will not forget such an elvish thing.

And after that, we consecrate Very God and Man;
And turn the bread to flesh, with five words we can.

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.

Yea, John! and then, with words holy and good,
Even, by and by, we turn the wine to blood.

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.

Truly, John, it is blood, though it be wine in taste.
As soon as the word is spoke, the wine is gone and past!

A sessions on it! for me. My wits are me benumme:
For I cannot study where the wine should become?

Study, quoth ha! Beware, and let such matter go!
To meddle much with this, may bring ye soon to woe.

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?

I marvel much, ye will reason so far!
I fear if ye use it, it will ye mar!

No, no, sir! I trust of that I shall be 'ware,
I pray you, with your matter again forth to fare!

And then we go forth, and Christ's body receive;
Even the very same that Mary did conceive.

The devil it is! Ye have a great grace
To eat GOD and Man in so short a space.

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!

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!

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!

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.

☞ Imprinted at London, by John Day, and William Seres, dwelling in Sepulchres Parish, at the sign of the Resurrection, a little above Holborn Conduite.

John Fox, the Martyrologist.
The Imprisonment of the Princess
Elizabeth.

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?"

"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."

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?"

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."

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.

A Prayer, taken out of the Psalms of David, daily and nightly, to be said of
Edward Underhill.