Whereupon the protector made difficulty to come out unto them, but if he first knew some part of their errand; as though he doubted and partly distrusted the coming of such a number unto him so suddenly, without any warning or knowledge whether they came for good or harm. Then the duke when he had shewn this unto the mayor and others, that they might thereby see how little the protector looked for this matter, they sent unto him by the messenger such loving message again, and therewith so humbly besought him to vouchsafe that they might resort to his presence to propose their intent, of which they would unto none other person any part disclose, that at the last he came forth of his chamber, and yet not down unto them; but stood above in a gallery over them, where they might see him and speak to him, as though he would not yet come too near them till he wist what they meant.

And thereupon the duke of Buckingham first made humble petition unto him on the behalf of them all, that his grace would pardon them and licence them to propose unto his grace the intent of their coming, without his displeasure; without which pardon obtained, they durst not be bold to move him of that matter. In which albeit they meant as much honour to his grace as wealth to all the realm beside, yet were they not sure how his grace would take it, whom they would in nowise offend.

Then the protector, as if he was very gentle of himself, and also longed sore to wit what they meant, gave him

leave to propose what him liked, verily trusting, for the good mind that he bare them all, none of them any thing would intend unto himward wherewith he ought to be grieved.

When the duke had this leave and pardon to speak, then waxed he bold to shew him their intent and purpose, with all the causes moving them thereunto as ye before have heard. And finally to beseech his grace, that it would like him of his accustomed goodness and zeal unto the realm, now with his eye of pity to behold the long-continued distress and decay of the same. And to set his gracious hands to the redress and amendment thereof, by taking upon him the crown and governance of this realm, according to his right and title lawfully descended unto him; and to the laud of God, profit of the land, and unto his grace's so much the more honour and less pain, in that never prince reigned upon any people who were so glad to live under his obeisance, as the people of this realm under his.

When the protector had heard the proposition, he looked very strangely thereat; and answered, that all were it that he partly knew the things by them alleged to be true, yet such entire love he bare unto King Edward and his children, that he so much more regarded his honour in other realms about than the crown of any one (of which he was never desirous) that he could not find in his heart in this point to incline to their desire. For in all other nations where the truth were not well known, it should per

adventure be thought that it were his own ambitious mind and device, to depose the prince and take himself the crown; with which infamy he would not have his honour stained for any crown. In which he had ever perceived much more labour and pain than pleasure, to him whoso would so use it as, he who would not, were not worthy to have it. Notwithstanding, he not only pardoned them the motion that they made him, but also thanked them for the love and hearty favour they bare him. Praying them, for his sake, to give and bear the same to the prince; under whom he was and would be content to live, and with his labour and counsel, as far as should like the king to use him, he would do his uttermost endeavour to set the realm in good state. Which was already in this little while of his protectorship (the praise given to God) well begun. In that the malice of such as were before occasion of the contrary, and of new intended to be, were now, partly by good policy, partly more by God's special providence than man's provision, repressed.

Upon this answer given, the duke, by the protector's licence, a little rowned, as well with other noblemen about him, as with the mayor and recorder of London. And af ter that, upon like pardon desired and obtained, he shewed aloud unto the protector for a final conclusion, that the realm was appointed, King Edward's line should not any longer reign upon them; both for that they had so far gone that it was now no surety to retreat, as for that they thought it for the weal universal to take that way, although they VOL. II. I i

had not yet begun it. Wherefore, if it would like his grace to take the crown upon him, they would humbly beseech him thereunto. If he would give them a resolute answer to the contrary (which they would be loath to hear) then must they needs seek, and should not fail to find, some other nobleman who would.

These words much moved the protector; who else, as every man may wit, would never of likelihood have inclined thereunto. But when he saw there was none other way, but that either he must take it, or else he and his both go from it, he said unto the lords and commons;

Since we perceive-well that all the realm is so set; whereof we be very sorry that they will not suffer in any wise King Edward's line to govern them, whom no man earthly can govern against their wills; and we well also perceive, that no man is there to whom the crown can by so just title appertain as to ourself, as very right heir, lawfully begotten, of the body of our most dear father Richard late duke of York; to which title is now joined your election, the nobles and commons of this realm, which we of all titles possible take for most effectual; we be content and agree favourably to incline to your petition and request. And according to the same, here we take upon us the royal estate, pre-eminence and kingdom of the two noble realms, England and France; the one, from this day forward by us and our heirs to rule, govern, and defend; the other, by God's grace and your good help, to get again and subdue,

and establish for ever in due obedience unto this realm of England; the advancement whereof, we never ask of God longer to live, than we intend to procure.'

With this there was a great shout, crying King Richard! King Richard! And then the lords went-up to the king (for so was he from that time called) and the people departed, talking diversly of the matter, every man as his fantasy gave him.

But much they talked and marvelled of the manner of this dealing; that the matter was on both parts made so strange, as though neither had ever communed with other thereof before, when that themselves well wist, there was no man so dull who heard them, but he perceived well enough that all the matter was made between them. Howbeit some excused that again, and said, all must be done in good order though; and men must sometimes for the manner's sake not be known what they know. For at the consecration of a bishop, every man wotteth well by the paying for his bulls, that he purposeth to be one; and though he pay for nothing else, yet must he be twice asked whether he will be bishop or no, and he must twice say nay, and at the third time take it as compelled thereunto beside his own will. And in a stage play, all the people know right well that he who playeth the sovereign is percase a sutler. Yet if one should ken so little good, to shew out of season what acquaintance he hath with him, and call him by his own name while he standeth in his majesty, one