all his mother's friends, under the name of their enemies. Upon this concluded, the duke of Gloucester understanding, that the lords, who at that time were about the king, intended to bring him up to his coronation, accompanied with such power of their friends, that it should be hard for him to bring his purpose to pass, without the gathering and great assembly of people, and in manner of open war, whereof the end he wist was doubtful, and in which, the king being on their side, his part should have the face and name of a rebellion ; he secretly therefore, by divers means, caused the queen to be persuaded and brought in the mind, that it neither were need, and also should be jeopardous, the king to come-up strong. For, whereas now every lord loved other, and none other thing studied upon but about the coronation and honour of the king, if the lords of her kindred should assemble in the king's name much people, they should give the lords, betwixt whom and them had been some time debate, to fear and suspect, lest they should gather this people, not for the king's safeguard, whom no man impugned, but for their destruction, having more regard to their old variance than their new atonement. For which cause, they should assemble on the other party much people again for their defence, whose power she wist wellfar stretched ; and thus should all the realm fall on a roar. And of all the hurt that thereof should ensue, which was likely not to be little, and the most harm there like to fall where she least would, all the world would put her and her kindred in the weight, and say, that they had unwisely, and untruly also, broken the amity and peace, which the

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king her husband so prudently made between his kin and hers, on his death-bed, and which the other party faithfully observed.

The queen, being in this wise persuaded, such word sent unto her son, and unto her brother, being about the king. And over that, the duke of Gloucester himself, and other lords the chief of his band, wrote unto the king so reverently, and to the queen's friends there so lovingly, that they, nothing earthly mistrusting, brought the king up in great haste, not in good speed, with a sober company.

Now was the king, in his way to London, gone from Northampton, when these dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham came thither. Where remained behind the Lord Rivers, the king's uncle, intending on the morrow to follow the king and be with him at Stony Stratford, thirteen miles thence, earlier than he departed. So was there made that night much friendly cheer, between these dukes and the Lord Rivers, a great while. But, incontinent after that they were openly with great courtesy departed and the Lord Rivers lodged, the dukes secretly, with a few of their most privy friends, set them down in council, wherein they spent a great part of the night. And at their rising in the dawning of the day, they sent about privily to their servants in their inns and lodgings about, giving them commandment to make themselves shortly ready, for their lords were to borsebackward. Upon which messages, many of their folk were attendant, when many of the Lord Rivers? servants were unready. Now, had these dukes taken also into their custody the keys of the inn, that none should pass-forth without their licence. And, over this, in the highway toward Stony Stratford, where the king lay, they had bestowed certain of their folk, that should send back again and compel to return, any man that was gotten out of Northampton toward Stony Stratford, till they should give other licence. Forasmuch as the dukes themselves intended, for the shew of their diligence, to be the first that should that day attend upon the king's highness out of that town, thus bare they folk in hand.

But when the Lord Rivers understood the gates closed and the ways on every side beset, neither his servants nor himself suffered to go out, perceiving well so great a thing without his knowledge not begun for nought, comparing this manner present with the last night's cheer, in so few hours so great a change marvelously misliked. Howbeit, since he could not get away, and keep himself close he would not, lest he should seem to hide himself for some secret fear of his own fault, whereof he saw no such cause in himself, he determined, upon the surety of his own conscience, to go boldly to them and inquire what this matter might mean. Whom, as soon as they saw, they began to quarrel with him, and say that he intended to set distance between the king and them, and to bring them to confusion ; but it should not lie in his power. And when be began (as he was a very well-spoken man) in goodly wise to excuse himself, they tarried not the end of his answer, but shortly took him and put him in ward, and that done, forthwith went to horseback and took the way to Stony Stratford. Where they found the king with his company, ready to leap on horseback and depart forward, to leave that lodging for them, because it was too straight for both companies. And, as soon as they came in his presence, they lighted adown, with all their company about them. To whom the duke of Buckingham said, go afore gentlemen and yeomen, keep your rooms. And thus, in a goodly array, they came to the king, and on their knees, in very humble wise, saluted his grace. Who received them in very joyous and amiable manner, nothing earthly knowing nor mistrusting as yet.

But even by and by, in his presence, they picked a quarrel to the Lord Richard Graye, the king's other brother by his mother, saying that he, with the Lord Marquis his brother, and the Lord Rivers his uncle, had compassed to rule the king and the realm, and to set variance among the states, and to subdue and destroy the noble blood of the realm. Toward the accomplishing whereof, they said that the Lord Marquis had entered into the Tower of London, and thence taken out the king's treasure, and sent men to the sea. All which things these dukes wist well were done for good purposes and necessary, by the whole council at London, saving that somewhat they must say. Unto which words the king answered, what my brother Marquis hath done I cannot say, but in good faith I dare well answer for mine uncle Rivers and my brother here, that they be innocent of any such matters. "Yea, my liege,” (quoth the duke of Buckingham) they have kept their dealing in these matters far from the knowledge of your good grace ;' and forthwith they arrested the Lord Richard and Sir Thomas Waughan, knight, in the king's presence, and brought the king and all, back unto Northampton, where they took again farther counsel.

And there they sent away from the king whom it pleased them, and set new servants about him, such as liked better them than him. At which dealing, he wept and was nothing content, but it booted not. And at dinner, the duke of Gloucester sent a dish from his own table to the Lord Rivers, praying him to be of good cheer, all should be well enough. And he thanked the duke, and prayed the messenger to bear it to his nephew the Lord Richard, with the same message for his comfort, who he thought had more need of comfort, as one to whom such adversity was strange; .but himself had been all his days in ure therewith, and therefore could bear it the better. But for all this comfortable courtesy of the duke of Gloucester, he sent the Lord Rivers and the Lord Richard, with Sir Thomas Waughan, into the north country, into divers places, to prison, and afterward all to Pomfret, where they were in conclusion beheaded. .

In this wise the duke of Gloucester took upon himself the order and governance of the young king, whom, with much honour and humble reverence, he conveyed upward

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