valiantness I have enjoyed and possessed the state royal and dignity of the same, maugre the ill-will and seditious attempts of all my cankered enemies and insidious adversaries, by whose prudent and politic counsel I have so governed my realm, people, and subjects, that I have omitted nothing appertaining to the office of a just prince, nor you have pretermitted nothing belonging to the duty of wise and sage counsellors. So that I may say and truly affirm that your approved fidelity and tried constancy maketh me to believe firmly and think that I am an undoubted king and an indubiate prince. And although in the adeption and obtaining of the garland I, being seduced and provoked by sinister counsel and diabolical temptation, did commit a facinorous and detestable act, yet I have with strict penance and salt tears (as I trust) expiated and clearly purged the same offence; which abominable crime I require you of friendship as clearly to forget as I daily do remember to deplore and lament the same. If you will now diligently call to remembrance in what case and perplexity we now stand, and in what doubtful peril we be now intricked, I doubt not but you in heart will think, and with mouth confess, that if ever amity and faith prevailed between prince and subjects, or between subject and subject, or if ever bond of allegiance obliged the vassal to love and serve his natural sovereign lord, or if any obligation of duty bound any prince to aid and defend his subjects, all these loves, bonds, and duties of necessity are this day to be experimented, showed, and put in experience. For if wise men say true, there is some policy in getting, but much more in keeping: the one being but fortune's chance, and the other high wit and policy; for which cause I with you and you with me must needs this day take labour and pain to keep and defend with force that pre-eminence and possession which by your prudent devices I have gotten and obtained. I doubt not but you know how the devil, continual enemy to human nature, disturber of concord, and sower of sedition, hath entered into the heart of an unknown Welshman (whose father I never knew, nor him personally saw), exciting him to aspire and covet our realm, crown, and dignity, and thereof clearly to deprive and spoil us and our posterity; ye see, further, how a company of traitors, thieves, outlaws, and runagates of our own nation be aiders and partakers of his feat and enterprise, ready at hand to overcome and oppress us; you see, also, what a number of beggarly Britaines and faint-hearted Frenchmen be with him arrived to destroy us, our wives, and children: which imminent mischiefs and apparent inconveniences, if we will withstand, we must live together like brethren, fight together like lions, and fear not to die together like men. And observing and keeping this rule and precept, believe me, the fearful hare never fled faster before the greedy greyhound, nor the silly lark before the sparrow-hawk, nor the simple sheep before the ravenous wolf, than yonder proud bragging adversaries, astonished and amazed with the only sight of your manly visages, will fly, run, and skir out of the field. For if you consider and wisely ponder all things in your mind, you shall perceive that we have manifest causes and apparent tokens of victory. And to begin with the Earl of Richmond, captain of this rebellion, he is a Welsh milk-sop, a man of small courage and of less experience in martial acts and feats of war, brought up by my brother's means and mine, like a captive in a close cage, in the court of Francis, Duke of Britaine, and never saw army, nor was exercised in martial affairs, by reason whereof he neither can nor is able on his own wit and experience to guide an host; for in the wit and policy of the captain consisteth the chief adeption of the victory and overture of the enemies. Secondly, fear not and put away all doubts, for when the traitors and runagates of

our realm shall see us with banner displayed come against them, remembering their oath, promise, and fidelity mado unto us, as to their sovereign lord and anointed king, they shall be so pricked and stimulated in the bottom of their scrupulous consciences, that they for very remorse and dread of the divine plague will either shamefully fly or humbly submit themselves to our grace and mercy. And as for the Frenchmen and Britaines, their valiantness is such, that our noble progenitors and your noble parents have them oftener vanquished and overcome in one month than they in the beginning imagined possible to compass and finish in a whole year. What will you make of them, braggers without audacity, drunkards without discretion, ribauds without reason, cowards without resisting, and in conclusion the most effeminate and lascivious people that ever showed themselves in front of battle, ten times more courageous to fly and escape than once to assault the breast of our strong and populous army? Wherefore, considering all these advantages, expel out of your thoughts all doubts, and avoid out of your minds all fear, and like valiant champions advance forth your standards, and assay whether your enemies can decide and try the title of battle by dint of sword. Advance, I say, again forward, my cap. tains, in whom lacketh neither policy, wisdom, nor puissance. Every one give but one sure stripe, and surely the journey is What prevaileth a handful to a whole realm? desiring you for the love that you bear to me, and the affection that you have to your native and natural country, and to the safeguard of your prince and yourself, that you will this day take to your accustomed courage and courageous spirits, for the defence and safeguard of us all. And as for me, I assure you this day I will triumph by glorious victory, or suffer death for immortal fame. For they be contemned, and out of the palace of fame degraded, dying without renown, which do not as much prefer and exalt the perpetual honour of their native country as their own mortal and transitory life. Now, Saint George to borrow, let us set forward, and remember well that I am he which shall with high advancements reward and prefer the valiant and hardy champions, and punish and torment the shameful cowards and dreadful dastards."

ours.

This exhortation encouraged all such as favoured him, but such as were present more for dread than love kissed them openly whom they inwardly hated; others sware outwardly to take part with such whose death they secretly compassed and inwardly imagined; others promised to invade the king's enemies which fled and fought with fierce courage against the king; others stood still and looked on, intending to take part with the victors and overcomers. So was his people to him unsure and unfaithful at his end, as he was to his nephews untrue and unnatural in his beginning.

When the Earl of Richmond knew by his fore-riders that the king was so near embattled, he rode about his army, from rank to rank, from wing to wing, giving comfortable words to all men; and that finished (being armed at all pieces, saving his helmet), mounted on a little hill, so that all his people might see and behold him perfectly, to their great rejoicing. For he was a man of no great stature, but so formed and decorated with all gifts and lineaments of nature, that he seemed more an angelical creature than terrestrial personage. His countenance and aspect was cheerful and courageous, his hair yellow like burnished gold, his eyes grey, shining, and quick, prompt and ready in answering, but of such sobriety that it could never be judged whether he were more dull than quick in speaking, such was his temperance. And when he had over-looked his army over every side he paused awhile, and after with a loud voice and bold spirit spake to his companions these or like the words following:

:

"If ever God gave victory to men fighting in a just quarrel -or if He ever aided such as made war for the wealth and tuition of their own natural and nutritive country-or if He ever succoured them which adventured their lives for the relief of innocents, suppressing of malefactors and apparent offenders no doubt, my fellows and friends, but He of His bountiful goodness will this day send us triumphant victory and a lucky journey over our proud enemies and arrogant adversaries. For if you remember and consider the very cause of our just quarrel, you shall apparently perceive the same to be true, godly, and virtuous: in the which I doubt not but God will rather aid us (yea, and fight for us) than see us vanquished and profligate by such as neither fear Him nor His laws, nor yet regard justice or honesty. Our cause is so just that no enterprise can be of more virtue, both by the laws divine and civil: for what can be a more honest, goodly, or godly quarrel than to fight against a captain being a homicide and murderer of his own blood and progeny, an extreme destroyer of his nobility, to his and our country, and the poor subjects of the same, a deadly mall, a firebrand, and burden intolerable? Besides him, consider who be of his band and company-such as by murder and untruth committed against their own kindred and lineage (yea, against their prince and sovereign lord) have disinherited me and you, and hath wrongfully detained and usurped our lawful patrimony and lineal inheritance. For he that calleth himself king keepeth from me the crown and regiment of this noble realm and country, contrary to all justice and equity. Likewise, his mates and friends occupy your lands, cut down your woods, and destroy your manors, letting your wives and children range abroad for their living; which persons, for their penance and punishment, I doubt not but God of His goodness will either deliver into our hands as a great gain and booty, or cause them, being grieved and compuncted with the prick of their corrupt consciences, cowardly to fly and not abide the battle. Besides this, I assure you that there be yonder in that great battle men brought thither for fear and not for love, soldiers by force compelled, and not with goodwill assembled, persons which desire rather the destruction than the salvation of their master and captain; and, finally, a multitude, whereof the most part will be our friends, and the least part our enemies. For truly I doubt which is greater, the malice of the soldiers towards their captain, or the fear of him conceived of his people. For surely this rule is infallible, that as ill men daily covet to destroy the good, so God appointeth the good to confound the ill; and of all worldly goods the greater is to suppress tyrants and relieve innocents, whereof the one is ever as much hated as the other is beloved. If this be true, as clerks preach, who will spare yonder tyrant, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, untruly calling himself king, considering that he hath violated and broken both the law of God and man? what virtue is in him which was the confusion of his brother, and murderer of his nephews? what mercy is in him that flieth his trusty friends as well as his extreme enemies? who can have confidence in him which putteth diffidence in all men? If you have not read, I have heard clerks say, that Tarquin the proud for the vice of the body lost the kingdom of Rome, and the name of Tarquin banished from the city for ever; yet was not his fault so detestable as the fact of cruel Nero, which slew his own mother, and opened her entrails to behold the place of his conception. Behold yonder Richard, which is both Tarquin and Nero, yea, a tyrant more than Nero, for he hath not only murdered his nephew being his king and sovereign lord, bastarded his noble brethren, and defamed the womb of his virtuous and womanly mother, but also compassed all the means and ways that he could invent

how to stuprate and carnally know his niece, under the pretence of a cloaked matrimony, which lady I have sworn and promised to take and make my wife, as you all know and believe. If this cause be not just, and this quarrel godly, let God the giver of victory judge and determine. We have (thanks be given to Christ) escaped the secret treasons in Britaine, and avoided the subtle snares of our fraudulent enemies there, passed the troublous seas in good and quiet safeguard, and without resistance have penetrated the ample region and large country of Wales, and are now come to the place which we so much desired: for long we have sought the furious boar, and now we have found him. Wherefore, let us not fear to enter into the toil where we may surely slay him, for God knoweth that we have lived in the vales of misery, tossing our ships in dangerous storms; let us not now dread to set up our sails in fair weather, having with us both Him and good fortune. If we had come to conquer Wales, and had achieved it, our praise had been great and our gain more; but if we win this battle the whole realm of England, with the lords and rulers of the same, shall be ours, the profit shall be ours, and the honour shall be ours. Therefore labour for your gain, and sweat for your right. While we were in Britaine we had small livings and little plenty of wealth or welfare; now is the time come to get abundance of riches and copie of profit, which is the reward of your service and merit of your pain. And this remember with yourselves, that before us be our enemies, and on either side of us be such as I neither surely trust nor greatly believe; backward we cannot fly: so that here we stand like sheep in a fold, circumsepted and compassed between our enemies and our doubtful friends. Therefore, let all fear be set aside, and like sworn brethren let us join in one, for this day shall be the end of our travail and the gain of our labour, either by honourable death or famous victory; and, as I trust, the battle shall not be so sour as the profit shall be sweet. Remember that victory is not gotten with multitude of men, but with the courage of hearts and valiantness of minds. The smaller that our number is, the more glory is to us if we vanquish if we be overcome, yet no laud is to be attributed to the victors, considering that ten men fought against one; and if we die so glorious a death in so good a quarrel, neither fretting time nor cankering oblivion shall be able to obfuscate or raze out of the book of fame either our names or our godly attempt. And this one thing I assure you, that in so just and good a cause, and so notable a quarrel, you shall find me this day rather a dead carrion upon the cool ground than a free prisoner on a carpet in a lady's chamber. Let us therefore fight like invincible giants, and set on our enemies like untimorous tigers, and banish all fear like ramping lions. And advance forward true men against traitors, pitiful persons against murderers, true inheritors against usurpers, the scourges of God against tyrants, display my banner with a good courage, march forth like strong and robustious champions, and begin the battle like hardy conquerors. The battle is at hand, and the victory approacheth, and if we shamefull yrecoil or cowardly fly, we and all ours shall be destroyed and dishonoured for ever. This is the day of gain, and this is the time of loss; get this day victory and be conquerors, and lose this day's battle and be villains, and therefore in the name of God let every man courageously advance forth with his standard."

:

These cheerful words he set forth with such gesture of body and smiling countenance, as though already he had vanquished his enemies and gotten the spoil.

He had scantly finished his saying but the one army espied the other. Lord! how hastily the soldiers buckled their helms, how quickly the archers bent their bows and frushed

their feathers, how readily the billmen shook their bills and proved their staves, ready to approach and join when the terrible trumpet shall sound the bloody blast to victory or death. Between both armies there was a great marsh which the Earl of Richmond left on his right hand for this intent, that it should be on that side a defence for his part, and in so doing he had the sun at his back and in the faces of his enemies.

When King Richard saw the earl's company was past the marsh, he commanded with all haste to set upon them. Then the trumpeters blew and soldiers shouted, and the king's archers courageously let fly their arrows; the earl's bowmen stood not still, but paid them home again. The terrible shot once past, the armies joined and came to hand-strokes, where neither sword nor bill was spared, at which encounter the Lord Stanley joined with the earl. The Earl of Oxford in the mean season, fearing lest while his company was fighting they should be compassed and circumvented with the multitude of his enemies, gave commandment in every rank that no man should be so hardy as to go above ten foot from the standard; which commandment once known, they knit themselves together, and ceased a little from fighting. The adversaries, suddenly abashed at the matter, and mistrusting some fraud or deceit, began also to pause, and left striking, and not against the will of many which had rather have had the king destroyed than saved, and therefore they fought very faintly or stood still. The Earl of Oxford, bringing all his band together on the one part, set on his enemies afresh; again the adversaries, perceiving that, placed their men slender and thin before and thick and broad behind, beginning again hardily the battle. While the two forwards thus mortally fought, each intending to vanquish and convince the other, King Richard was admonished by his explorators and espials that the Earl of Richmond, accompanied with a small number of men-of-arms, was not far off; and as he approached and marched towards him, he perfectly knew his personage by certain demonstrations and tokens which he had learned and known of others. And being inflamed with ire, and vexed with outrageous malice, he put his spurs to his horse, and rode out of the side of the range of his battle, leaving the avantguards fighting, and like a hungry lion ran with spear and rest toward him. The Earl of Richmond perceived well the king furiously came toward him, and, because the whole hope of his wealth and purpose was to be determined by battle, he gladly proffered to encounter with him, body to body and man to man.

King Richard set on so sharply at the first brunt that he overthrew the earl's standard, and slew Sir William Brandon, his standard-bearer (which was father to Sir Charles Brandon, by King Henry VIII. created Duke of Suffolk), and matched hand to hand with Sir John Chieny, a man of great force and strength which would have resisted him; and the said John was by him manfully overthrown, and so, he making open passage by dint of sword as he went forward, the Earl of Richmond withstood his violence, and kept him at the sword's point without advantage longer than his companions either thought or judged, which being almost in despair of victory were suddenly re-comforted by Sir William Stanley, which came to succour them with three thousand tall men, at which very instant King Richard's men were driven back and fled, and he himself, manfully fighting in the middle of his enemies, was slain and brought to his death, as he worthily had deserved.

In the mean season the Earl of Oxford, with the aid of the Lord Stanley, after no long fight discomfited the forward of King Richard, whereof a great number were slain in the flight; but the greatest number which (compelled by fear of

the king, and not of their mere valiant motion) came to the field gave never a stroke, and having no harm nor damage, safely departed, which came not thither in hope to see the king prosper and prevail, but to hear that he should be shamefully confounded and brought to ruin.

In this battle died few above the number of a thousand persons; and of the nobility were slain John, Duke of Norfolk, which was warned by divers to refrain the field, insomuch that the night before he should set forward toward the king one wrote on his gate

"Jack of Norfolk, be not too bold,

For Dickon thy master is bought and sold."

Yet all this notwithstanding, he regarding more his oath, his honour, and promise made to King Richard, like a gentleman and a faithful subject to his prince, absented not himself from his master, but as he faithfully lived under him, so he manfully died with him, to his great fame and laud. There were slain beside him Walter, Lord Ferrers, of Chartley, Sir Richard Radcliffe, and Robert Brakenbury, Lieutenant of the Tower, and not many gentlemen more. Sir William Catesby, learned in the laws of the realm, and one of the chief councillors of the late king, with divers others were two days after beheaded at Leicester. Amongst them that ran away were Sir Francis, Viscount Lovell, and Humphrey Stafford, and Thomas Stafford, his brother, which took sanctuary at St. John's at Gloucester. Of captives and prisoners there was a great number, for after the death of King Richard was known and published, every man in manner unarming himself, and casting away his habiliment of war, meekly submitted themselves to the obeisance and rule of the Earl of Richmond: of the which the more part had gladly so done in the beginning, if they might have conveniently escaped from King Richard's espials, which, having as clear eyes as lynxes, and as open ears as Midas, ranged and searched in every quarter. Amongst these was Henry, the fourth Earl of Northumberland, which, whether it was by the commandment of King Richard putting diffidence in him, or he did it for the love and favour that he bare unto the earl, stood still with a great company, and intermitted not in the battle, which was incontinently received into favour, and made of the council. But Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, which submitted himself there, was not taken to grace, because his father was chief councillor, and he was familiar with King Richard, but committed to the Tower of London, where he long remained, and in conclusion delivered, and for his truth and fidelity after promoted to high honours and dignities. On the Earl of Richmond's part were slain scarce one hundred persons, amongst whom the principal was Sir William Brandon, his standard-bearer.

This battle was fought at Bosworth, in Leicestershire, the two-and-twentieth day of August, in the year one thousand four hundred and eighty-six; the whole conflict endured little above two hours. King Richard, as the fame went, might have escaped and gotten safeguard by flying. For when they which were next about his person saw and perceived at the first joining of the battle the soldiers faintly and nothing courageously to set on their enemies, and not only that, but also that some withdrew themselves privily out of the press and departed, they began to suspect fraud and smell treason, and not only exhorted, but determinately advised him to save himself by flight; and when the loss of the battle was imminent and apparent, they brought to him a swift and a light horse to convey him away. He, which was not ignorant of the grudge and ill-will that the common people bare towards him, casting away all hope of fortunate success and happy chance to come, answered (as men say) he would make an end of all battles, or else there finish his life. Such a

great audacity and such a stout stomach reigned in his body; for surely he knew that to be the day in the which it should be decided and determined whether he should peaceably obtain and enjoy his kingdom during his life, or else utterly forego and be deprived of the same. With which too much hardiness he being overcome, hastily closed his helmet, and entered fiercely into the hard battle, to the intent to obtain that day a quiet reign, or else to finish there his unquiet life and unfortunate governance. And so this miser at the same very point had like chance and fortune as happeneth to such which, in place of right justice and honesty, following their sensual appetite, love, use, and embrace mischief, tyranny, and unthriftiness. Surely these be examples of more vehemency than man's tongue can express to fear and astound such evil persons as will not live one hour vacant from doing and exercising cruelty, mischief, or outrageous living.

When the earl had thus obtained victory, and slain his mortal enemy, he kneeled down and rendered to Almighty God his hearty thanks with devout and godly orisons, beseeching His goodness to send him grace to advance and defend the Catholic faith, and to maintain justice and concord amongst his subjects and peoplo, by God now to his governance committed and assigned. Which prayer finished, he, replenished with incomparable gladness, ascended up to the top of a little mountain, where he not only praised and lauded his valiant soldiers, but also gave unto them his hearty thanks, with promise of condign recompense for their fidelity and valiant facts, willing and commanding all the hurt and wounded persons to be cured, and the dead carcases to be delivered to the sepulture.

Then the people rejoiced and clapped hands, crying up to heaven, "King Henry! King Henry!" When the Lord Stanley saw the goodwill and gratuity of the people, he took the crown of King Richard, which was found amongst the spoil in the field, and set it on the earl's head, as though he had been elected king by the voice of the people, as in ancient times past in divers realms it hath been accustomed; and this was the first sign and token of his good luck and felicity. I must put you here in remembrance how that King Richard, putting some diffidence in the Lord Stanley, which had with him as an hostage the Lord Strange's eldest son, which Lord Stanley, as you have heard before, joined not at the first with his son-in-law's army, for fear that King Richard would have slain the Lord Strange's heir. When King Richard was come to Bosworth, he sent a pursuivant to the Lord Stanley, commanding him to advance forward with his company, and to come to his presence; which thing if he refused to do, he swore by Christ's passion that he would strike off his son's head before he dined.

The Lord Stanley answered the pursuivant, that if the king did so, he had more sons alive, and to come to him he was not then so determined. When King Richard heard this answer, he commanded the Lord Strange incontinent to be beheaded, which was at that very same season when both the armies had sight each of the other. The councillors of King Richard, pondering the time and the cause, knowing also the Lord Strange to be innocent of his father's offence, persuaded the king that it was now time to fight, and not time to execution, advising him to keep the Lord Strange as a prisoner till the battle was ended, and then at leisure his pleasure might be accomplished. So as God would, King Richard infringed his holy oath, and the lord was delivered to the keepers of the king's tent to be kept as a prisoner: which, when the field was done, and their master slain, and proclamation made to know where the child was, they submitted themselves as prisoners to the Lord Strange, and he gently received them and brought them to the new

proclaimed king, where of him and of his father he was received with great joy and gladness.

After this the whole camp removed with bag and baggage, and the same night in the evening King Henry with great pomp came to the town of Leicester, where, as well for the refreshing of his people and soldiers as for preparing all things necessary for his journey toward London, he rested and reposed himself two days. In the mean season the dead corpse of King Richard was as shamefully carried to the town of Leicester as he gorgeously the day before with pomp and pride departed out of the same town. For his body was naked and despoiled to the skin, and nothing left about him, not so much as a clout to cover his privy members, and was trussed behind a pursuivant-of-arms called Blaunche Senglier, or White Boar, like a hog or a calf, the head and arms hanging on the one side of the horse, and the legs on the other side, and all besprinkled with mire and blood, was brought to the Grey Friars' Church within the town, and there laid like a miserable spectacle. But surely, considering his mischievous acts and facinorous doings, men may worthily wonder at such a caitiff; and in the said church he was with no less funeral pomp and solemnity interred than he would to be done at the burying of his innocent nephews, whom he caused cruelly to be murdered and unnaturally to be quelled.

When his death was known, few lamented and many rejoiced, the proud bragging white boar (which was his badge) was violently razed and plucked down from every sign and place where it might be espied: so ill was his life, that men wished the memory of him to be buried with his carrion corpse. He reigned two years, two months, and one day.

As he was small and little of stature, so was he of body greatly deformed, the one shoulder higher than the other; his face small, but his countenance was cruel, and such that a man at the first aspect would judge it to savour and smell of malice, fraud, and deceit. When he stood musing, he would bite and chew beastly his nether lip, as who said that his fierce nature in his cruel body always chafed, stirred, and was ever unquiet. Besides that, the dagger that he wore he would, when he studied, with his hand pluck up and down in the sheath to the midst, never drawing it fully out. His wit was pregnant, quick, and ready, wily to feign and apt to dissemble; he had a proud mind and an arrogant stomach, the which accompanied him to his death, which he rather desired to suffer by dint of sword than, being forsaken and destitute of his untrue companions, would by coward flight preserve and save his uncertain life, which by malice, sickness, or condign punishment might chance shortly after to come to confusion.

Thus ended this prince's mortal life with infamy and dishonour, which never preferred fame or honesty before ambition, tyranny, and mischief. And if he had continued still protector, and suffered his nephews to have lived and reigned, no doubt but the realm had prospered, and he as much praised and beloved as he is now abhorred and vilipended; but to God, which knew his interior cogitations at the hour of his death, I commit the punishment of his offences committed in his life.

The note of war is still about us if we turn from sword to crozier, and these are days-under Henry VIII., Edward, and Mary—when brute force finds its way into the spiritual battle-field. John Skelton, who had poured earnest thought into a homely jesting strain that would pass current among the people, and defied the wrath of Wolsey in denouncing spiritual pride, died within the sanctuary of Westminster in 1529. His name had become so popular

that jokes of the day were fathered upon him, and a collection of these was published thirty or forty years after his death. There are only three of them with which Skelton's name might reasonably have been connected. One, more lively than witty, is a satire on war from the poor man's point of view:

HOW THE COBBLER TOLD MASTER SKELTON, IT IS GOOD SLEEPING IN A WHOLE SKIN.

In the parish of Diss, whereas Skelton was parson, there dwelt a cobbler, being half a souter, which was a tall man and a great sloven, otherwise named a slouch. The king's majesty having wars beyond the sea, Skelton said to this aforesaid doughty man, Neighbour, you be a tall man and in the king's wars you must bear a standard." "A standard?" said the cobbler, "what a thing is that?" Skelton said, "It is a great banner, such a one as thou dost use to bear in Rogation week; and a lord's, or a knight's, or a gentleman's arms shall be upon it; and the soldiers that be under the aforesaid person shall be fighting under thy banner." "Fighting!" said the cobbler. "I can no skill in fighting." "No," said Skelton, "thou shalt not fight, but hold up and advance the banner. 66 By my fay," said the cobbler, "I can no skill in the matter." Well," said Skelton, "there is no remedy but thou shalt forth to do the king's service in his wars: for in all this country there is not a more likelier man to do such a feat as thou art." "Sir," said the cobbler, "I will give you a fat capon that I might be at home." " No," said Skelton, "I will not have none of thy capons, for thou shalt do the king service in his wars." Why," said the cobbler, "what should I do? Will you have me to go in the king's wars and to be killed for my labour? Then I shall be well at ease, for I shall have my mends in mine own hands." " What, knave," said Skelton, "art thou a coward, having so great bones?" "No," said the cobbler, "I am not afeard; it is good to sleep in a whole skin." "Why," said Skelton, "thou shalt be harnessed to keep away the strokes from thy skin." "By my fay," said the cobbler, "if I must needs forth I will see how I shall be ordered." Skelton did harness the doughty squirrel, and did put an helmet on his head; and when the helmet was on the cobbler's head, the cobbler said, "What shall those holes serve for?" Skelton said, "Holes to look out to see thy enemies." "Yea," said the cobbler, " then am I in worser case than ever I was: for then one may come and thrust a nail into one of the holes and pick out mine eye; therefore," said the cobbler to Master Skelton, "I will not go to war. My wife shall go in my stead, for she can fight and play the devil with her distaff and with stool, staff, cup, or candlestick; for by my fay Icham sick, Ichill go home to bed; I think I shall die."

Another story adds to the number of jests against the limitours, whose encroachment on the functions of the parish priests, and shameless frauds on the people, Chaucer and Langland had satirised in the fourteenth century.

HOW THE FRIAR ASKED LEAVE OF SKELTON TO PREACH AT DISS, WHICH SKELTON WOULD NOT GRANT. There was a friar the which did come to Skelton to have licence to preach at Diss. "What would you preach there?" said Skelton. "Do not you think that I am sufficient to preach there in mine own cure?" "Sir," said the friar, "I am the Limitour of Norwich, and once a year one of our place doth

1 Did harness, caused to be cased in armour.

use to preach with you to take the devotion of the people; and if I may have your good will so be it, or else I will come and preach against your will, by the authority of the Bishop of Rome: for I have his bulls to preach in every place, and therefore I will be there on Sunday next coming." "Come not there, friar, I do counsel thee," said Skelton. The Sunday next following, Skelton laid watch for the coming of the friar; and as soon as Skelton had knowledge of the friar, he went into the pulpit to preach. At last the friar did come into the church with the Bishop of Rome's bulls in his hand. Skelton then said to all his parish, "See! see!" and pointed to the friar. All the parish gazed on the friar. Then said Skelton, "Masters, here is as wonderful a thing as ever was seen. You all do know that it is a thing daily seen, a bull doth beget a calf; but here, contrary to all nature, a calf hath gotten a bull; for this friar, being a calf, hath gotten a bull of the Bishop of Rome." The friar, being ashamed, would never after that time presume to preach at Diss.

The third tale has its significance increased by the fact that when Skelton died in sanctuary, to which he had withdrawn for refuge from the wrath of Wolsey supreme in power, Wolsey was within four months of the utter ruin that preceded his own death.

HOW THE CARDINAL DESIRED SKELTON TO MAKE AN EPITAPH UPON HIS GRAVE.

man.

Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal and Archbishop of York, had made a regal tomb to lie in after he was dead; and he desired Master Skelton to make for his tomb an epitaph, which is a memorial to show the life with the acts of a noble Skelton said: "If it do like your grace, I cannot The make an epitaph unless that I do see your tomb." cardinal said: "I do pray you to meet with me to-morrow at the West Monastery, and there shall you see my tomb amaking." The pointment was kept, and Skelton, seeing the sumptuous cost, more pertaining for an emperor or a maximious king than for such a man as he was (although cardinals will compare with kings): "Well," said Skelton, "if it like your grace to creep into this tomb whiles you be alive, I can make an epitaph; for I am sure that when you be dead you shall never have it." The which was verified of a truth.

Although Wolsey and Skelton had been good friends before Wolsey's ambition made him, in Skelton's eyes, a type of lordly corruption in the Church, it is certain that after Wolsey had risen to power Skelton would have been the last man whom he would have asked to write his epitaph.

Latimer's direct and homely English prose, with other utterances of the long day of religious strife before Elizabeth's accession, will be found represented in another volume of this library. Here let it be enough to represent the fierceness of the trial by

some

2

LETTERS OF MARTYRS UNDER MARY.

Lawrence Saunders to his Wife.

Grace and comfort, &c. Wife, you shall do best not to come often unto the grating where the porter may see you. Put not yourself in danger where it needs not; you shall, I think, shortly come far enough into danger by keeping faith and a good conscience, which, dear wife, I trust you do not slack to make reckoning and account upon, by exercising your inward man in meditation of God's most holy

2 Illustrations of English Religion, pages 150-158.