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points nor aught rought of himself; but, with that young babe his brother, lingered in thought and heaviness, till this traitorous death delivered them of that wretchedness.
For Sir James Tyrel devised, that they should be murdered in their beds. To the execution whereof, he appointed Miles Forest, one of the four who kept them, a fellow fleshed in murder beforetime. To him he joined ope John Dighton, his own horse-keeper, a big, broad, square, strong knave. Then, all the others 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 among the clothes, so bewrapped them and entangled them, keeping-down by force the feather-bed and pillows hard unto their mouths, that within a while, smothered and stifled, their breath failing, they gave-up to God their innocent souls into the joys of heaven, leaving to the tormentors their bodies dead in the bed.
Whom after that the wretches perceived, first by the struggling with the pains of death, and after long lying still, to be thoroughly dead, they laid their bodies naked out upon the bed, and fetched Sir James to see them. Whó, upon the sight of them, caused those murderers to bury them at the stair-foot, meetly deep in the ground, under a great heap of stones.
Then rode Sir James in great haste to King Richard, and shewed him all the manner of the murder; who gave Vol. II.
him great thanks, and as some say there made him knight. · But he allowed not, as I have heard, that burying 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! Whereupon, they say, that a priest of Sir Robert Brakenbery tuok-up the bodies again, and secretly interred them in such place, as, by the occasion of his death who only knew it, could never since come to light. Very truth is it, and well known, that at such time as Sir James Tyrel was in the Tower for treason committed against the most famous prince King Henry VII, both Dighton and he were examined, and confessed the murder in manner above written. · But whether the bodies were removed they could nothing tell.
And thus, as I have learned of them who much knew and little cause had to lie, were these two noble princes, these innocent tender children, born of most royal blood, brought-up in great wealth, likely long to live, to reign and rule in the realm, by traitorous tyranny taken, deprived of their estate, shortly shut-up in prison, and privily slain and murdered, their bodies cast God wot where; by the cruel ambition of their unnatural uncle and his dispiteous tormentors! Which things on every part well pondered, God never gave this world a more notable example, neither in what unsurety standeth this worldly well, 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 S. Martins, peicemeal rotted away. Dighton indeed yet walketh-on alive, in good possibility to be hanged ere he die. But Sir James Tyrel died at Tower-hill, beheaded for treason. King Richard himself, as ye shall hereafter hear, slain in the field, hacked and hewed of his enemies' hands, harried on horseback dead, his hair 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 did ; and yet all the meantime spent in much pain and trouble outward, much fear, anguish and sorrow within. For I have heard by credible report of such as were secret with his chamberers, that after this abominable deed done, he never had quiet in his mind, he never thought himself súre. Where he went abroad, his eyes whirled about, his body privily fenced, his hand ever on his dagger, his countenance and manner like one alway ready to strike again. He took ill rest at nights, lay long waking and musing, sore wearied with care and watch, he rather slumbered than slept. Troubled with fearful dreams, suddenly sometimes started he up, leapt out of his bed and ran about the chamber. So was his restless heart continually tossed and tumbled with the tedious impression and stormy remembrance of his abominable deed !
Now had he outward no long time in rest. For hereupon soon after began the conspiracy, or rather good confederation, between the duke of Buckingham and many other gentlemen, against him.
The occasion whereupon the king and the duke fell-out, is of divers folk divers wise pretended. This duke, as I have for certain been informed, as soon as the duke of Gloucester upon the death of King Edward came to York, and there had solemn funeral service for King Edward, sent thither. in the most secret wise he could one Persal, his trusty seryant. Who came to John Warde, a chamberer, of like secret trust with the duke of Gloucester, desiring that in the most close and covert manner, he might be admitted to the presence and speech of his master. And the duke of Gloucester, advertised of his desire, caused him, in the dead of the night, after all other folk avoided, to be brought unto him in his secret chamber. Where Persal, after his master's recommendation shewed him, that he had secretly sent him to shew him, that in this new world he would take such part as he would, and wait upon him with a thousand good fellows if need were.
The messenger sent back with thanks and some secret instruction of the protector's mind, yet met him again with.' farther message from the duke his master within few days after at Nottingham ; whither the protector, from York, with many gentlemen of the north country, to the number of six hundred horse, was come on his way to Londonward. And after secret meeting and communication had, eftsoon departed. Whereupon, at Northampton, the duke met with the protector himself, with three hundred horse, and from thence still continued with him partner of all his devices, till that after his coronation they departed as it seem
ed very great friends at Gloucester. From whence as soon as the duke came home, he so lightly turned from him and so highly conspired against him, that a man would marvel whereof the change grew.
And surely the occasion of their variance is of divers men diversly reported. Some have I heard say, that the duke, a little before the coronation, among other things required of the protector the duke of Hertford's lands, to which he pretended himself just inheritor. And forasmuch as the title which he claimed by inheritance, was somewhat interlaced with the title to the crown, by that line of King Henry before deprived, the protector conceived such indignation, that he rejected the duke's request with many spiteful and minatory words. Which so wounded his heart with hatred and mistrust, that he never after could endure to look aright on King Richard ; but ever feared his own life. So far forth that when the protector rode through London toward his coronation, he feigned himself sick because he would not ride with him. · And the other, taking it in evił part, sent him word to rise and come ride, or he would make him be carried. Whereupon he rode-on with evil will; and that notwithstanding, on the morrow rose from the feast, feigning himself sick; and King Richard said, it was done in hatred and despite of him. · And they say that ever after, continually, each of them lived in such hatred and distrust of other, that the duke verily looked to have been murdered at Gloucester; from which nevertheless he in fair manner departed.,