is so, or thou art a God, or a man, or nought. If thou be God, do thou well and good to the people as God doth, and take not from them that they ought to have and is theirs; if thou be a man think that thou shalt die, and then thou shalt do none evil if thou by nought forget thyself. There is nothing so strong and firm but that sometime a feeble thing casteth down and overthrow it. How well that the lion be the strongest beast, yet some time a little bird eateth him up.”

The second cause wherefore this play was founden and made, was for to keep him from idleness, whereof Seneque saith unto Lucille, Idleness without any occupation is sepulture of a man living, and Cato saith in his sentences that in like wise as men go, not for to go, the same wise the life is not not given for to live, but for to do well and good, and therefore, secondly, the Philosopher found this play for to keep the people from idleness; for there is much people, when so is that they be fortunate in worldly goods that they draw them to ease and idleness, whereof cometh oft times many evils and great sins; and by this idleness the heart is quenched, whereof cometh good desperation.

The third cause is that every man naturally desireth to know and hear novelties and tidings; for this cause they of Athens studied, as we read, and for as the corporal or bodily sight empessheth' and letteth otherwhile the knowledge of subtle things. Therefore we read that Democrite the philosopher put out his own eyen for as much as he might have the better entendement and understanding. Many have been made blind that were great clerks in like wise as was Didymus bishop of Alexandria, that how well that he saw not yet he was so great a clerk, that Gregory Nazaz 2 and saint Jerome that were clerks and masters to other, came for to be his scholars and learned of him; and saint Anthony, the great hermit, came for to see him on a time, and among all other things he demanded him if he were not greatly displeased that he was blind and saw not, and he answered that he was greatly abashed for that he supposed not that he was not displeased in that he had lost his sight, and saint Anthony answered to him, I marvel much that it displeaseth thee that thou has lost that thing which is common between thee and beasts, and thou knowest well that thou hast not lost that thing which is common between thee and the angels. And for these causes foresaid, the Philosopher entended to put away all pensiveness and thoughts, and to think only on this play as shall be said and appear in this book after.

Here ended the first tractate. The second tractate then indicated the constitution of a state in its rulers, in five chapters upon the superior chessmen, king, queen, alphyn (judge), knight and rook (vicar or legate of the king); the third tractate set forth the places of the other members of the commonwealth in eight chapters on the pawns, each pawn standing for a class, one for the labourers, one for the smiths, one for the merchants and changers, &c. A fourth tractate moralised the chess-board and the moves of the several pieces, and all ended with "Epilogation and Recapitulation," giving a summary of the whole book in its three last pages.

an

Another of Caxton's good services was the securing of an original prose history, derived from the chief poems forming the cycle of Arthurian romance, which had been finished by Sir Thomas Malory in the ninth

1 Empessheth: French, "empêche," hindereth. The French original is followed at times too literally in phrases as well as words. • Gregory Nazaz, Gregory Nazianzen.

year of Edward IV., and was first printed by Caxton at Westminster in 1485. This is, in its original spelling,

CAXTON'S PREFACE TO LA MORT D'ARTHUR.

After that I had accomplysshed and fynysshed dyvers hystoryes, as well of contemplacyon as of other hystoryal and worldly actes of grete conquerours and prynces, and also certeyn bookes of ensaumples and doctryne, many noble and dyvers gentylmen of thys royame of Englond camen and demaunded me many and oftymes wherfore that I have not do make and enprynte the noble hystorye of the saynt greal, and of the moost renomed crysten kyng, fyrst and chyef of the thre best crysten and worthy, kyng Arthur, whyche ought moost to be remembred emonge us Englysshe men tofore al other crysten kynges. For it is notoyrly knowen thorugh the unyversal world that there been ix. worthy and the best that ever were, that is to wete, thre paynyms, thre Jewes, and thre crysten men. As for the paynyms, they were tofore the incarnacyon of Cryst, whiche were named, the fyrst Hector of Troye, of whome thystorye is comen bothe in balade and in prose; the second Alysaunder the grete; and the thyrd Julyus Cezar, emperour of Rome, of whome thystoryes ben wel kno and had. And as for the thre Jewes, whyche also were tofore thyncarnacyon of our Lord, of whome the fyrst was duc Josue, whyche brought the chyldren of Israhel into the londe of byheste; the second Davyd kyng of Jherusalem; and the thyrd Judas Machabeus; of these thre the Byble reherceth al theyr noble hystoryes and actes. And sythe the sayd incarnacyon have ben thre noble crysten men stalled and admytted thorugh the unyversal world ́into the nombre of the ix. beste and worthy, of whome was fyrst the noble Arthur, whos noble actes I purpose to wryte in thys present book here folowyng; the second was Charlemayn, or Charles the grete, of whome thystorye is had in many places bothe in Frensshe and Englysshe; and the thyrd and last was Godefray of Boloyn, of whos actes and lyf I made a book unto thexcellent prynce and kyng of noble memorye kyng Edward the fourth. The said noble jentylmen instantly requyred me temprynte thystorye of the sayd noble kyng and conquerour kyng Arthur, and of his knyghtes, with thystorye of the saynt greal, and of the deth and endyng of the sayd Arthur; affermyng that I ouзt rather tenprynte his actes and noble feates, than of Godefroye of Boloyne, or ony of the other eyght, consyderyng that he was a man borne wythin this royame, and kyng and emperour of the same.

And that there ben in Frensshe dyvers and many noble volumes of his actes, and also of his knyghtes. To whom I answerd, that dyvers men holde oppynyon that there was no suche Arthur, and that alle suche bookes as been maad of hym, ben but fayned and fables, bycause that somme cronycles make of hym no mencyon ne remembre hym noo thynge ne of his knyghtes. Wherto they answerd, and one in specyal sayd, that in hym that shold say or thynke that there was never suche a kyng callyd Arthur, myght wel be aretted grete folye and blyndenesse; for he sayd that there were many evydences of the contrarye. Fyrst ye may see his sepulture in the monasterye of Glastyngburye, and also in Polycronycon,3 in the v book the syxte chappytre, and in the seventh book the xxiii chappytre, where his body was buryed and after founden and translated into the sayd monasterye. Ye shal se also in thystorye of Bochas in his book de casu principum, parte of his noble

3 Ralph Higden's "Polychronicon."

actes and also of his falle. Also Galfrydus,' in his Brutysshe book, recounteth his lyf. And in divers places of Englond many remembraunces ben yet of hym and shall remayne perpetuelly, and also of his knyghtes. Fyrst, in the abbay of Westmestre at saynt Edwardes shryne remayneth the prynte of his seal in reed waxe closed in beryll, in whych is wryton Patricius Arthurus, Britannie, Gallie, Germanie, Dacie, imperator. Item, in the castel of Dover ye may see Gauwayns skulle, and Cradoks mantel; at Wynchester, the rounde table; in other places, Launcelottes swerde, and many other thynges. Thenne al these thynges consydered, there can no man resonably gaynsaye but there was a kyng of thys lande named Arthur. For in al places crysten and hethen he is reputed and taken for one of the ix. worthy, and the fyrst of the thre crysten men. And also he is more spoken of beyonde the see, moo bookes made of his noble actes, than there be in Englond, as wel in Duche, Ytalyen, Spanysshe, and Grekysshe, as in Frensshe. And yet of record remayne in wytnesse of hym in Wales, in the toune of Camelot, the grete stones and mervayllous werkys of yron lyeing under the grounde, and ryal vautes, which dyvers now lyvyng hath seen. Wherfor it is a mervayl why he is no more renomed in his owne contreye, sauf onelye it accordeth to the word of God, whyche sayth that no man is accept for a prophete in his owne contreye. Thenne al these thynges forsayd aledged, I coude not wel denye but that there was suche a noble kyng named Arthur, and reputed one of the ix worthy, and fyrst and chyef of the cristen men, and many noble volumes be made of hym and of his noble knyзtes in Frensshe, which I have seen and redde beyonde the see, which been not had in our maternal tongue, but in Walsshe ben many, and also in Frensshe, and somme in Englysshe, but no wher nygh alle. Wherfore suche as have late ben drawen oute bryefly into Englysshe, I have after the symple connyng that God hath sente to me, under the favour and correctyon of al noble lordes and gentylmen, enprysed to enprynte a book of the noble hystoryes of the sayd kynge Arthur, and of certeyn of his knyghtes, after a copye unto me delyvered, whyche copye syr Thomas Malorye dyd take oute of certeyn bookes of Frensshe and reduced it into Englysshe. And I, accordyng to my copye, have doon sette it in enprynte, to the entente that noblemen may see and lerne the noble acts of chyvalrye, the jentyl and vertuous dedes, that somme knyghtes used in tho dayes, by whyche they came to honour, and how they that were vycious were punysshed and often put to shame and rebuke, humbly bysechying al noble lordes and ladyes, wyth al other estates, of what estate or degree they been of, that shal see and rede in this sayd book and werke, that they take the good and honest actes in their remembraunce, and to folowe the same. Wherin they shalle fynde many joyous and playsaunt hystoryes and noble and renomed acts of humanyte, gentylnesse, and chyvalryes. For herein may be seen noble chyvalrye, curtosye, humanyte, frendlynesse, hardynesse, love, frendshyp, cowardyse, murdre, hate, vertue, synne. Doo after the good, and leve the evyl, and it shal brynge you to good fame and renommee. And for to passe the tyme, this book shal be plesaunte to rede in, but for to gyve fayth and byleve that al is trewe that is contayned herin, ye be at your lyberte; but al is wryton for our doctryne, and for to beware that we falle not to vyce ne synne, but texercyse and folowe vertu, by whyche we may come and atteyne to good fame and renomme in thys lyf, and after thys shorte and transytorye lyf to come unto everlastyng blysse in heven, the whyche he graunt us that reygneth in heven the blessyd Trynyte. Amen.

2 Galfrydus, Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of British Kings.

Sir Thomas More, who was about seven years old when Malory's "History of King Arthur" was first printed by Caxton, entered as a youth into the household of Cardinal John Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, who became his friend and patron. Cardinal Morton had taken active part in the public life of the days illustrated by the later Paston Letters. He was Bishop of Ely at the time of the murder of the Princes in the Tower, the same Bishop of Ely whom the Protector-Richard-sent to the Tower, and who became afterwards a friend to the Earl of Richmond, and, after the Battle of Bosworth, to Henry VII. From information derived from this patron, there is reason to think, sometimes even from his dictation,-More wrote his "History of

THE MURDER OF THE PRINCES IN THE TOWER.

For this present matter I shall rehearse to you the dolorous end of these two babes, not after every way that I have heard, but after that way that I have so heard by such men and such means, as I think it to be hard but it should be true.

King Richard, after his coronation, taking his way to Gloucester to visit in his new honour the town of which he bare the name of old, devised as he rode to fulfil that thing which he before had intended. And forasmuch as his mind gave him that, his nephews living, men would not reckon that he could have right to the realm; he thought, therefore, without delay to rid them, as though the killing of his kinsmen might end his cause and make him kindly king. Whereupon he sent John Greene, whom he specially trusted, unto

Sir Robert Brakenbury, Constable of the Tower, with a letter and credence also, that the same Sir Robert in any wise should put the two children to death. This John Greene did his errand to Brakenbury, kneeling before our Lady in the Tower, who plainly answered that he would never put them to death to die therefore. With the which answer Greene returned, recounting the same to King Richard at Warwick, yet on his journey, wherewith he took such displeasure and thought, that the same night he said to a secret page of his, "Ah, whom shall a man trust? they that I have brought up myself, they that I thought would have most surely served me, even those fail me, and at my commandment will do nothing for me." "Sir," quoth the page, "there lieth one in the pallet chamber without, that I dare say will do your Grace pleasure: the thing were right hard that he would refuse"-meaning by this James Tyrell, which was a man of a goodly personage, and for the gifts of nature worthy to have served a much better prince, if he had well served God, and by grace obtained to have as much truth and goodwill as he had strength and wit. The man had an high heart and sore longed upward, not rising yet so fast as he had hoped, being hindered and kept under by Sir Richard Ratcliffe and Sir William Catesby, which, longing for no more partners of the prince's favour-namely, not for him, whose pride they knew would bear no peer-kept him by secret drifts out of all secret trust, which thing this page had well marked and knew; wherefore this occasion offered, of very special friendship, spied his time to set him forward, and in such wise to do him good, that all the enemies that he had (except the devil) could never have done him so much hurt and shame: for upon the page's words King Richard arose (for this communication had he sitting on a draft, a convenient carpet for such a council), and came out into the pallet chamber, where he did find in bed the said James Tyrell and Sir Thomas Tyrell, of person like, and brethren of blood, but nothing of kin in conditions. Then said the king merrily, "What, sirs, be you in bed so soon?" and called up James Tyrell, and brake to him secretly his mind in this mischievous matter, in the which he found him nothing strange. Wherefore on the morrow he sent him to Brakenbury with a letter, by the which he was commanded to deliver to the said James all the keys of the Tower for a night, to the end that he might there accomplish the king's pleasure in such things as he there had given him in commandment. After which letter delivered, and the keys received, James appointed the next night ensuing to destroy them, devising before and preparing the means.

The prince, as soon as the protector took upon him to be king and left the name of protector, was thereof advertised and showed that he should not reign, but his uncle should have the crown. At which word the prince, sore abashed, began to sigh and say, "Alas, I would mine uncle would let me have my life, although I leese my kingdom." Then he that told him the tale used him with good words, and put him in the best comfort that he could; but forthwith he and his brother were both shut up, and all other removed from them, one called Black Will, or William Slaughter, only except, which were set to serve them, and four other to see them sure. After which the prince never tied his points, nor anything regarded himself, but with that young babe his brother lingered in thought and heaviness, till this traitorous deed delivered them of that wretchedness.

For James Tyrell devised that they should be murdered in their beds, and no blood shed: to the execution whereof he appointed Miles Forest, one of the four that before kept them, a fellow flesh-bred in murder before time, and to him he joined one John Dighton, his own horsekeeper, a big,

broad, square, and strong knave. Then all the other being removed from them, this Miles Forest and John Dighton about midnight, the silly children lying in their beds, came into the chamber, and suddenly lapped them up amongst the clothes, and so be-wrapped them, keeping down by force the feather-bed and pillows hard under their mouths, that within a while they smothered and stifled them, and their breaths failing, they gave up to God their innocent souls into the joys of heaven, leaving to the tormentors their bodies dead in the bed, which after the wretches perceived (first by the struggling with the pang of death, and after long lying still) to be thorough dead, they laid the bodies out upon the bed, and fetched James Tyrell to see them, which, when he saw them perfectly dead, he caused the murderers to bury them at the stair-foot, meetly deep in the ground, under a heap of stones.

Then rode James Tyrrell in great haste to King Richard, and showed him all the manner of the murder, who gave him thanks, and, as men say, there made him knight; but he allowed not their burial in so vile a corner, saying that he would have them buried in a better place, because they were a king's sons, Lo the honourable courage of a king, for he would recompense a detestable murder with a solemn obsequie. Whereupon a priest of Sir Robert Brakenbury's took them up and buried them in such a place secretly as by the occasion of his death (which was shortly after) which only knew it, the very truth could never yet be very well and perfectly known: for some say that King Richard caused the priest to take them up and close them in lead, and to put them in a coffin full of holes, hooked at the ends with two hooks of iron, and so to cast them into a place called the "Black Deeps" at the Thames' mouth, so that they should never rise up nor be seen again. This was the very truth unknown, by reason that the said priest died so shortly, and disclosed it never to any person that would utter it. And for a truth, when Sir James Tyrell was in the Tower for treason committed to King Henry VII., both he and Dighton were examined together of this point, and both they confessed the murder to be done in the same manner as you have heard; but whither the bodies were removed they both affirmed they never knew. And thus, as I have learned of them that knew much, and little cause had they to lie, were these two noble princes-these innocent tender children, born of the most royal blood, and brought up in great wealth, likely long to live, to reign and rule in the realm-by traitorous tyranny taken and deprived of their estate, shortly shut up in prison, and privily slain and murdered by the cruel ambition of their unnatural uncle and his dispiteous tormentors. Which things, on every part well pondered, God gave this world never a more notable example, either in what unsurety standeth this world's weal, or what mischief worketh the proud enterprise of an high heart, or, finally, what wretched end ensueth such dispiteous cruelty.

For, first to begin with the ministers, Miles Forest, at St. Martin's-le-Grand, by piece-meals miserably rotted away; John Dighton lived at Calais long after, no less disdained and hated than pointed at, and there died in great misery; but Sir James Tyrell was beheaded on the Tower Hill for treason; and King Richard himself was slain in the field, hacked and hewn by his enemies' hands, hurried on a horseback, naked, being dead, he is here in despite torn and tugged like a cur dog. And the mischief that he took within less than three years, of the mischief that he died in three months, be not comparable, and yet all the meantime spent in much trouble and pain outward, and much fear, dread, and anguish within. For I have heard, by credible report of such as were secret with his chambers, that after this abominable deed done he never was quiet in his mind, he never thought himself sure where he went abroad, his body privily fainted, his

eye whirled about, his hand ever on his dagger, his countenance and manner like always to strike again, he took ill rest on nights, lay long waking and musing, for wearied with care and watch, rather slumbered than slept, troubled with fearful dreams, suddenly sometimes start up, leap out of his bed, and look about the chamber. So was his restless heart continually tossed and tumbled with the tedious impression and stormy remembrance of his abominable murder and execrable tyranny.

King Richard, by this abominable mischief and scelerous act, thinking himself well relieved both of fear and thought, would not have it kept counsel, but within a few days caused it to run in a common rumour that the two children were suddenly dead, and to this intent, as it is to be deemed, that now no heir male being alive of King Edward's body lawfully begotten, the people would be content with the more patient heart and quiet mind to obey him and suffer his rule and governance; but when the fame of this detestable fact was revealed and divulged through the whole realm, there fell generally such a dolour and inward sorrow into the hearts of all the people, that, all fear of his cruelty set aside, they in every town, street, and place openly wept and piteously sobbed. And when their sorrow was somewhat mitigated, their inward grudge could not refrain but cry out in places public and also private, furiously saying, “What creature of all creatures is so malicious and so obstinate an enemy either to God, or to Christian religion, or to human nature, which would not have abhorred, or at the least abstained from, so miserable a murder of so execrable a tyranny? To murder a man is much odious; to kill a woman is in manner unnatural; but to slay and destroy innocent babes and young infants the whole world abhorreth, and the blood from the earth crieth to Almighty God for vengeance." If the common people cried out, I assure you the friends of the queen and her children made no less exclamation and complaint with loud voice, lamentably crying and saying, "Alas, what will he do to others, that thus shamefully murdereth his own blood without cause or desert? Whom will he save, when he slayeth the poor lambs committed to him in trust? Now we see and behold that the most cruel tyranny hath invaded the commonwealth; now we see that in him is neither hope of justice nor trust of mercy, but abundance of cruelty and thirst of innocent blood."

But when this news was first brought to the unfortunate mother of the dead children, yet being in sanctuary, no doubt but it struck to her heart like the sharp dart of death; for when she was first informed of the murder of her two sons, she was suddenly amazed with the greatness of the cruelty, that for fear she swooned and fell down to the ground, and there lay in a great agony like to a dead corpse. And after that she came to her memory and was revived again, she wept and sobbed, and with pitiful screeches she replenished the whole mansion, her breast she struck, her fair hair she tore and pulled in pieces, and being overcome with sorrow and pensiveness, rather desired death than life, calling by name divers times her sweet babes, accounting herself more than mad, that she, deluded by wily and fraudulent promises, delivered her younger son out of the sanctuary to his enemy to be put to death, thinking that next the oath made to God broken, and the duty of allegiance toward her children violated, she of all creatures in that point was most seduced and deceived. After long lamentation, when she saw no hope of revenging otherwise, she kneeled down and cried on God to take vengeance for the deceitful perjury, as who said she nothing mistrusted but once He would remember it. What is he living, that if he remember and behold these two noble infants without deserving so shamefully murdered,

that will not abhore the fact, yea, and be moved and tormented with pity and mercy? And yet the world is so frail, and our nature so blind, that few be stirred with such examples, obviously forgetting and little considering that oftentimes for the offences by the parents perpetrated and committed, that sin is punished in their line and posterity. This chance might so happen to these innocent children, because King Edward their father and parent offended in staining his conscience: he made his solemn oath before the gate of the city of York (as you have heard before), and promised and sware one thing by his word, thinking clean contrary in his heart, as after did appear. And afterward, by the death of the Duke of Clarence his brother, he incurred (of likelihood) the great displeasure toward God.

The book from which Signor Benedick accused Beatrice of stealing her wit-the "Hundred Merry Tales"—was first printed by John Rastell in the year 1526. The only perfect copy of it known is in the Royal Library of the University of Göttingen. There is one other copy, imperfect, and that is in England.'

Each of the Merry Tales has a short added moral, and the usual butts of their wit are women and Welshmen; but there is considerable variety of matter, and a vein of earnestness often distinct enough, that gives some worth to the collection, which was followed by many more-few better, and some worse- -of a like kind. Let us take

FIVE OF THE HUNDRED MERRY TALES.

Of the Welshman that shrove him for breaking his fast
on the Friday.

A Welshman dwelling in a wild place of Wales came to his Curate in the time of Lent and was confessed; and when his confession was in manner at the end, the Curate asked him whether he had any other thing to say that grieved his conscience, which, sore abashed, answered no word a great while. At last, by exhortation of his ghostly father, he said that there was one thing in his mind that greatly grieved his conscience, which he was ashamed to utter, for it was so grievous that he trowed God would never forgive him. To whom the Curate answered and said, that God's mercy was above all, and bade him not despair in the mercy of God, for, whatsoever it was, if he were repentant, God would forgive him. And so, by long exhortation, at the last he showed it, and said thus: "Sir, it happened once, that as my wife was making a cheese on a Friday I would have said whether it had been salt or fresh, and took a little of the whey in my. hand and put it in my mouth, and, or2 I was ware, part of it went down my throat against my will, and so I brake my fast." To whom the Curate said, "If there be none other thing, I warrant God shall forgive thee." So when he had well comforted him with the mercy of God, the Curate prayed him to answer a question and to tell him truth. The Curate said that there were robberies and murders done nigh the place where he dwelt, and divers men found slain, and asked him whether he were consenting to any of them. To whom he answered and said, "Yes;" and said he was party to many of them, and did help to rob and to slay divers of them. Then the Curate asked him why he did not confess

1 The Göttingen copy was reprinted in 1866 with Introduction and Notes by Dr. Herman Oesterley; the other copy was edited in 1815 by Mr. S. W. Singer, and in 1864 by Mr. W. Carew Hazlitt. 2 Or, ere.