almost into the thing he seemed to be, and from a liar to a believer. (Life of Henry VII.) [Bacon draws above from Speed. Shakespeare in his 'Tempest' has the fame thought :

'Like one,

Who having unto Truth, by telling of it
Made such a sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie-he did believe
He was indeed the Duke.'

It is marvellous how Bacon and Shakespeare alike tranfmute the least suggeftion of arid chroniclers into imperishable ftuff.]

Later-after Flight from Exeter to
Taunton [1497]

Perkin was brought unto the King's Court, but not to the King's presence; though the King, to fatisfy his curiofity, faw him fometimes out of a window or in paffage. He was in fhow at liberty, but guarded with all care and watchfulness that was poffible, and willed to follow the King to London. But from his first appearance upon the stage in his new person of fycophant, or juggler,

instead of his former person of a prince, all men may think how he was expofed to the derifion not only of the courtiers, but also of the common people, who flocked about him as he went along, that one might know afar off where the owl was, by the flight of birds; fome mocking, fome wondering, fome curfing, fome prying and picking matter out of his countenance and gefture to talk of. So that the falfe honour and refpects which he had fo long enjoyed was plentifully repaid in fcorn and contempt. For he was conveyed leisurely on horfeback, but not in any ignominious fashion, through Cheapfide and Cornhill, to the Tower, and from thence back again into Westminster, with the churme [confufed murmuring noise] of a thousand taunts and reproaches. (Ibid.)

Still Later-Dilgraced [1498].

It was not long but Perkin, who was made of quickfilver (which is hard to hold or imprison), began to ftir. For, deceiving his keepers [in the Tower], he

took him to his heels, and made speed to the fea-coast. But presently all corners were laid for him, and fuch diligent pursuit and search made, as he was fain to turn back and get him to the house of Bethlehem, called the Priory of Shyne (which had the privilege of fanctuary), and put himself into the hands of the prior of that monaftery. The prior was thought an holy man, and much reverenced in those days. He came to the King and befought the King for Perkin's life only, leaving him otherwise to the King's difcretion. Many about the King were again more hot than ever to have the King to take him forth and hang him. But the King that had a high ftomach, and could not hate any that he despised, bid: Take him forth and fet the

knave in the ftocks.' And fo, promifing the Prior his life, he caufed him to be brought forth. And within two or three days after, upon a scaffold fet up in the palace-court at Westminster, he was fettered and set in the stocks for the whole day. And the next day after, the like was done by him at the Crofs in Cheapfide, and in both places

he read his confeffion, of which we made mention before ; and was from Cheapfide conveyed and laid up in the Tower. (Ibid.)

Final Scene-13 Nov., 1499.

It was ordained that this winding-ivy of a Plantagenet fhould kill the true tree itself. For, Perkin, after he had been a while in the Tower, began to infinuate himself into the favour of his keepers.

Hereupon Perkin (that had offended against grace now the third time) was at the laft proceeded with, and by commiffioners of Oyer and Determiner, arraigned at Westminster, upon divers treafons committed and perpetrated after his coming on land within this kingdom (for fo the judges advised, for that he was a foreigner) and condemned; and a few days after executed at Tyburn ; where he did again openly read his confeffion, and take it upon his death to be true. This was the end of this little cockatrice of a king, that was able to deftroy those that did not espy him first.

It was one of the largest plays of this kind that hath been in memory, and might, perhaps, have had another end, if he had not met with a king both wife, ftout, and fortunate. (Ibid.)

WRITING IN APHORISMS.

The writing in aphorifms hath many excellent virtues, whereto the writing in method doth not approach. For, first, it trieth the writer whether he be superficial or folid: for aphorifms, except they should be ridiculous, cannot be made but of the pith and heart of sciences; for discourse by illuftration and order is cut off; fo there remaineth nothing to fill the aphorifms, but fome good quantity of observation: and therefore no man can fuffice, nor in reason will attempt to write aphorifms, but he that is found and grounded. Secondly, methods are more fit to win confent or belief, but lefs fit to point to action; for they carry a kind of demonftration in orb or circle, one part illuminating another, and therefore fatisfactory. But