king. Whervpon they saie, that a priest of sir Robert Brakenberies tooke vp the bodies againe, and secretlie interred them in such place, as by the occasion of his death, which onelie knew it, could neuer since come to light. Verie truth is it, and well knowne, that at such time as sir Iames Tirrell was in the Tower, for treason committed against the most famous prince king Henrie the seauenth, both Dighton and he were examined, and confessed the murther in maner aboue written: but whither the bodies were remooued, they could nothing tell.

And thus (as I haue learned of them that much knew, and little cause had to lie) were these two noble princes, these innocent tender children, borne of most roiall bloud, brought vp in great wealth, likelie long to liue, reigne, and rule in the realme, by traitorous tyrannie taken, depriued of their estate, shortlie shut vp in prison, and priuilie slaine and murthered, their bodies cast God wot where, by the cruell ambition of their vnnaturall vncle and his despiteous tormentors. Which things on euerie part well pondered, God neuer gaue this world a more notable example, neither in what vnsuertie standeth this worldlie weale; or what mischéefe worketh the proud enterprise of an high heart; or finallie, what wretched end insueth such despiteous crueltie.

For first, to begin with the ministers, Miles Forrest, at S. Martins péecemeale rotted awaie. Dighton in déed yet walketh on aliue in good possibilitie to be hanged yer he die. But sir Iames Tirrell died at the Tower hill beheaded for treason. King Richard himselfe, as ye shall hereafter heare, slaine in the field, hacked and hewed of his enimies hands, haried on horsse-backe dead, his haire in despite torne and tugged like a curre dog; and the mischéefe that he tooke, within lesse than thrée yeares of the mischéefe that he did: and yet all (in the meane time) spent in much paine & trouble outward, much feare, anguish and sorow within. For I haue heard by credible report of such as were secret with his chamberleine, that after this abominable déed doone, he neuer had a quiet mind. Than the which there can be no greater torment. For a giltie conscience inwardlie accusing and bearing witnesse against an offender, is such a plague and punishment, as hell itselfe (with all the féends therein) can not affoord one of greater horror & affliction; the poet implieng no lesse in this tristichon:

He neuer thought himselfe sure. Where he went abroad, his eies whirled about, his bodie priuilie fensed, his hand euer vpon his dagger, his countenance and maner like one alwaies readie to strike againe, he tooke ill rest a nights, laie long waking and musing, sore wearied with care and watch, rather slumbered than slept, troubled with fearefull dreames, suddenlie sometime start vp, lept out of his bed, and ran about the chamber; so was his restlesse heart continuallie tossed and tumbled with the tedious impression and stormie remembrance of his abhominable déed. Now had he outward no long time in rest. For herevpon, soone after began the conspiracie, or rather good confederation, betwéene the duke of Buckingham and manie other gentlemen against him. The occasion wherevpon the king and the duke fell out, is of diuerse folke in diuerse wise pretended.

This duke (as I haue for certeine béene informed) as soone as the duke of Glocester, vpon the death of king Edward, came to Yorke, and there had solemne funerall seruice for king Edward, sent thither in the most secret wise he could, one [1]Persall his trustie seruant, who came to Iohn Ward a chamberer of like secret trust with the duke of Glocester, desiring that in the most close and couert maner, he might be admitted to the presence and spéech of his maister. And the duke of Glocester aduertised of his desire, caused him in the dead of the night (after all other folke auoided) to be brought vnto him in his secret chamber, where Persall (after his maisters recommendations) shewed him that he had secret sent him to shew him, that in this new world he would take such part as he would, & wait vpon him with a thousand good fellowes, if néed were.

The messenger sent backe with thanks, & some secret instruction of the protectors mind, yet met him againe with further message from the duke his master within few daies after at Notingham: whither the protector from Yorke with manie gentlemen of the north countrie, to the number of six hundred horsses, was come on his waie to London-ward, & after secret méeting and communication had, eftsoones departed. Wherevpon at Northampton, the duke met with the protector himselfe with thrée hundred horsses, and from thence still continued with him partner of all his deuises; till that after his coronation, they departed (as it séemed) verie great fréends at Glocester. From whense as soone as the duke came home, he so lightlie turned from him, and so highlie conspired against him, that a man would maruell whereof the change grew. And suerlie, the occasion of their variance is of diuerse men diuerselie reported.

Some haue I heard say, that the duke a little before his coronation, among other things, required of the protector the duke of Herefords lands, to the which he pretended himselfe iust inheritor. And forsomuch as the title, which he claimed by inheritance, was somwhat interlaced with the title to the crowne by the line of king Henrie before depriued, the protector conceiued such indignation, that he reiected the dukes request with manie spitefull and minatorie words. Which so wounded his heart with hatred and mistrust, that he neuer after could indure to looke aright on king Richard, but euer feared his owne life; so far foorth, that when the protector rode through London toward his coronation, he feined himselfe sicke, bicause he would not ride with him. And the other also taking it in euill part, sent him word to rise, and come ride, or he would make him be caried. Wherevpon he rode on with euill will, and that notwithstanding on the morow, rose from the feast, feining himselfe sicke, and king Richard said it was doone in hatred and despite of him.

And they said, that euer after continuallie, each of them liued in such hatred and distrust of other, that the duke verelie looked to haue béene murthered at Glocester: from which nathelesse, he in faire maner departed. But suerlie some right secret at that daie denie this: and manie right wise men thinke it vnlikelie (the déepe dissembling nature of both those men considered, and what néed in that gréene world the protector had of the duke, and in what perill the duke stood, if he fell once in suspicion of the tyrant) that either the protector would giue the duke occasion of displeasure, or the duke the protector occasion of mistrust.