the sea, and ever failed. But therewith the duke of Saxony came down into Flanders, taking upon him the person of an umpire, to compose things between Maximilian and his subjects; but being, indeed, fast and assured to Maximilian. Upon this pretext of neutrality and treaty, he repaired to Bruges; desiring of the states of Bruges, to enter peaceably into their town, with a retinue of some number of men of arms fit for his estate; being somewhat the more, as he said, the better to guard him in a country that was up in arms: and bearing them in hand, that he was to communicate with them of divers matters of great importance for their good. Which having obtained of them, he sent his carriages and harbingers before him, to provide his lodging. So that his men of war entered the city in good array, but in peaceable manner, and he followed. They that went before inquired still for inns and lodgings, as if they would have rested there all night; and so went on till they came to the gate that leadeth directly towards Dam: and they of Bruges only gazed upon them, and gave them passage. The captains and inhabitants of Dam also suspected no harm from any that passed through Bruges; and discovering forces afar off, supposed they had been some succours that were come from their friends, knowing some dangers towards them. And so perceiving nothing but well till it was too late, suffered them to enter their town. By which kind of slight, rather than stratagem, the town of Dam was taken, and the town of Bruges shrewdly blocked up, whereby they took great discouragement. The duke of Saxony, having won the town of Dam, sent immediately to the king to let him know, that it was Sluice chiefly, and the lord Ravenstein that kept the rebellion of Flanders in life and that if it pleased the king to besiege it by sea, he also would besiege it by land, and so cut out the core of those wars. The king, willing to uphold the authority of Maximilian, the better to hold France in awe, and being likewise sued unto by his merchants, for that the seas were much infested by the barks of the lord Ravenstein; sent straightways Sir Edward Poynings, a valiant man, and of good service, with twelve ships, well furnished with soldiers and artillery, to clear the seas, and to besiege Sluice on that part. The Englishmen did not only coop up the lord Ravenstein, that he stirred not, and likewise hold in strait siege the maritime part of the town, but also assailed one of the castles, and renewed the assault so for twenty days' space, issuing still out of their ships at the ebb, as they made great slaughter of them of the castle; who continually fought with them to repulse them, though of the English part also were slain a brother of the earl of Oxford's, and some fifty more. But the siege still continuing more and more strait, and both the castles, which were the principal strength of the town, being distressed, the one by the duke of Saxony, and the other by the English; and a bridge of boats, which the lord of Ravenstein had made between both castles, whereby succours and relief might pass from the one to the other, being on a night set on fire by the English; he despairing to hold the town, yielded, at the last, the castles to the English, and the town to the duke of Saxony by composition. Which done, the duke of Saxony and Sir Edward Poynings treated with them of Bruges, to submit themselves to Maximilian their lord; which after some time they did, paying in some good part, the charge of the war, whereby the Almains and foreign succours were dismissed. The example of Bruges other of the revolted towns followed; so that Maximilian grew to be out of danger, but, as his manner was to handle matters, never out of necessity. And Sir Edward Poynings, after he had continued at Sluice some good while till all things were settled, returned unto the king, being then before Boloign. Somewhat about this time came letters from Ferdinando and Isabella, king and queen of Spain, signifying the final conquest of Granada from the Moors; which action, in itself so worthy, king Ferdinando, whose manner was never to lose any virtue for the showing, had expressed and displayed in his letters at large, with all the particularities and religious punctos and ceremonies, that were observed in the reception of that city and kingdom: showing amongst other things, that the king would not by any means in person enter the city, until he had at first aloof seen the cross set up upon the greater tower of Granada, whereby it became christian ground. That likewise, before he would enter, he did homage to God above, pronouncing by a herald from the height of that tower, that he did acknowledge to have recovered that kingdom by the help of God Almighty, and the glorious Virgin, and the virtuous apostle Saint James, and the holy father Innocent the eighth, together with the aids and services of his prelates, nobles, and commons. That yet he stirred not from his camp, till he had seen a little army of martyrs, to the number of seven hundred and more christians, that had lived in bonds and servitude, as slaves to the Moors, pass before his eyes, singing a psalm for their redemption; and that he had given tribute unto God, by alms and relief extended to them all, for his admission into the city. These things were in the letters with many more ceremonies of a kind of holy ostentation. The king, ever willing to put himself into the consort or quire of all religious actions, and naturally affecting much the king of Spain, as far as one king can affect another, partly for his virtues, and partly for a counterpoise to France; upon the receipt of these letters sent all his nobles and prelates that were about the court, together with the mayor and aldermen of London, in great solemnity to the church of Paul; there to hear a declaration from the lord chancellor, now cardinal. When they were assembled, the cardinal, standing upon the uppermost step, or half-pace, before the quire, and all the nobles, prelates, and governors of the city at the foot of the stairs, made a speech to them; letting them know, that they were assembled in that consecrated place, to sing unto God a new song. For that, said he, these many years the christians have not gained new ground or territory upon the infidels, nor en larged and set farther the bounds of the christian world. But this is now done by the prowess and devotion of Ferdinando and Isabella, kings of Spain; who have, to their immortal honour, recovered the great and rich kingdom of Granada, and the populous and mighty city of the same name, from the Moors, having been in possession thereof by the space of seven hundred years and more: for which this assembly and all christians are to render laud and thanks unto God, and to celebrate this noble act of the king of Spain; who in this is not only victorious but apostolical, in the gaining of new provinces to the christian faith. And the rather, for that this victory and conquest is obtained without much effusion of blood. Whereby it is to be hoped, that there shall be gained not only new territory, but infinite souls to the church of Christ, whom the Almighty, as it seems, would have live to be converted. Herewithal he did relate some of the most memorable particulars of the war and victory. And after his speech ended, the whole assembly went solemnly in procession, and Te Deum was sung. Immediately after the solemnity, the king kept his May-day at his palace of Shene, now Richmond. Where, to warm the blood of his nobility and gallants against the war, he kept great triumphs of justing and tourney, during all that month. In which space it so fell out, that Sir James Parker, and Hugh Vaughan, one of the king's gentlemen ushers, having had a controversy touching certain arms that the king at arms had given Vaughan, were appointed to run some courses one against another. And by accident of a faulty helmet that Parker had on, he was stricken into the mouth at the first course, so that his tongue was borne unto the hinder part of his head, in such sort that he died presently upon the place. Which, because of the controversy precedent, and the death that followed, was accounted amongst the vulgar as a combat or trial of right. The king towards the end of this summer, having put his forces, wherewith he meant to invade France, in readiness, but so as they were not yet met or mustered together, sent Urswick, now made his almoner, and Sir John Risley, to Maximilian, to let him know that he was in arms, ready to pass the seas into France, and did but expect to hear from him, when and where he did appoint to join with him, according to his promise made unto him by Countebalt his ambassador. The English ambassadors having repaired to Maximilian, did find his power and promise at a very great distance; he being utterly unprovided of men, money, and arms, for any such enterprise. For Maximilian, having neither wing to fly on, for that his patrimony of Austria was not in his hands, his father being then living, and on the other side, his matrimonial territories of Flanders being partly in dowry to his mother-in-law, and partly not serviceable, in respect of the late rebellions; was thereby destitute of means to enter into war. The ambassadors saw this well, but wisely thought fit to advertise the king thereof, rather than to return themselves, till the king's farther pleasure were known: the rather, for that Maximilian himself spake as great as ever he did before, and entertained them with dilatory answers: so as the formal part of their ambassage might well warrant and require their farther stay. The king hereupon, who doubted as much before, and saw through his business from the beginning, wrote back to the ambassadors, commending their discretion in not returning, and willing them to keep the state wherein they found Maximilian as a secret, till they heard farther from him: and meanwhile went on with his voyage royal for France, suppressing for a time this advertisement touching Maximilian's poverty and disability. By this time was drawn together a great and puissant army into the city of London; in which were Thomas marquis Dorset, Thomas earl of Arundel, Thomas earl of Derby, George earl of Shrewsbury, Edmond earl of Suffolk, Edward earl of Devonshire, George earl of Kent, the earl of Essex, Thomas earl of Ormond, with a great number of barons, knights, and principal gentlemen; and amongst them Richard Thomas, much noted for the brave troops that he brought out of Wales. The army rising in the whole to the number of five and twenty thousand foot, and sixteen hundred horse; over which the king, constant in his accustomed trust and employment, made Jasper duke of Bedford, and John earl of Oxford, generals under his own person. The ninth of September, in the eighth year of his reign, he departed from Greenwich towards the sea; all men wondering that he took that season, being so near winter, to begin the war; and some thereupon gathering, it was a sign that the war would not be long. Nevertheless the king gave out the contrary, thus: "That he intending not to make a summer business of it, but a resolute war, without term prefixed, until he had recovered France, it skilled not much when he began it, especially having Calais at his back, where he might winter, if the season of the war so required." The sixth of October he embarked at Sandwich; and the same day took land at Calais, which was the rendezvous, where all his forces were assigned to meet. But in this his journey towards the sea-side, wherein, for the cause that we shall now speak of, he hovered so much the longer, he had received letters from the lord Cordes, who the hotter he was against the English in time of war, had the more credit in a negotiation of peace; and besides was held a man open and of good faith. In which letters there was made an overture of peace from the French king, with such conditions as were somewhat to the king's taste; but this was carried at the first with wonderful secrecy. The king was no sooner come to Calais, but the calm winds of peace began to blow. For first, the English ambassadors returned out of Flanders from Maximilian, and certified the king, that he was not to hope for any aid from Maximilian, for that he was altogether unprovided. His will was good, but he lacked money. And this was made known and spread through the army. And although the English were therewithal nothing dismayed, and that it be the manner of soldiers upon bad news to speak the more bravely; yet nevertheless it was a kind of preparative to a peace. Instantly in the | which presently after brake forth. But it gave no neck of this, as the king had laid it, came news that less discontent to the nobility and principal persons Ferdinando and Isabella, kings of Spain, had con- of the army, who had many of them sold or engaged cluded a peace with king Charles; and that Charles their estates upon the hopes of the war. They stuck had restored unto them the counties of Russignon not to say, "That the king cared not to plume his and Perpignian, which formerly were mortgaged by nobility and people, to feather himself." And some John, king of Arragon, Ferdinando's father, unto made themselves merry with that the king had said France for three hundred thousand crowns: which in parliament; "That after the war was once begun, debt was also upon this peace by Charles clearly he doubted not but to make it pay itself;" saying, released. This came also handsomely to put on the he had kept promise. peace; both because so potent a confederate was fallen off, and because it was a fair example of a peace bought; so as the king should not be the sole merchant in this peace. Upon these airs of peace, the king was content that the bishop of Exeter, and the lord d'Aubigny, governor of Calais, should give a meeting unto the lord Cordes, for the treaty of a peace. But himself nevertheless and his army, the fifteenth of October, removed from Calais, and in four days' march sat him down before Boloign. During this siege of Boloign, which continued near a month, there passed no memorable action, nor accident of war; only Sir John Savage, a valiant captain, was slain, riding about the walls of the town, to take a view. The town was both well fortified and well manned; yet it was distressed, and ready for an assault. Which, if it had been given, as was thought, would have cost much blood; but yet the town would have been carried in the end. Meanwhile a peace was concluded by the commissioners, to continue for both the kings' lives. Where there was no article of importance; being in effect rather a bargain than a treaty. For all things remained as they were, save that there should be paid to the king seven hundred forty-five thousand ducats in present, for his charges in that journey; and five and twenty thousand crowns yearly, for his charges sustained in the aid of the Britons. For which annual, though he had Maximilian bound before for those charges, yet he counted the alteration of the hand as much as the principal debt. And besides, it was left somewhat indefinitely when it should determine or expire; which made the English esteem it as a tribute carried under fair terms. And the truth is, it was paid both to the king and to his son king Henry the eighth, longer than it could continue upon any computation of charges. There was also assigned by the French king, unto all the king's principal counsellors, great pensions, besides rich gifts for the present. Which whether the king did permit, to save his own purse from rewards, or to communicate the envy of a business, that was displeasing to his people, was diversely interpreted. For certainly the king had no great fancy to own this peace. And therefore a little before it was concluded, he had underhand procured some of his best captains and men of war to advise him to a peace, under their hands, in an earnest manner, in the nature of a supplication. But the truth is, this peace was welcome to both kings. To Charles, for that it assured unto him the possession of Britain, and freed the enterprise of Naples. To Henry, for that it filled his coffers; and that he foresaw at that time a storm of inward troubles coming upon him, | Having risen from Boloign, he went to Calais, where he stayed some time. From whence also he wrote letters, which was a courtesy that he sometimes used, to the mayor of London, and the aldermen his brethren; half bragging what great sums he had obtained for the peace; knowing well that full coffers of the king is ever good news to London. And better news it would have been, if their benevolence had been but a loan. And upon the seventeenth of December following he returned to Westminster, where he kept his Christmas. Soon after the king's return, he sent the order of the garter to Alphonso duke of Calabria, eldest son to Ferdinando king of Naples. An honour sought by that prince to hold him up in the eyes of the Italians; who expecting the arms of Charles, made great account of the amity of England for a bridle to France. It was received by Alphonso with all the ceremony and pomp that could be devised, as things use to be carried that are intended for opinion. It was sent by Urswick; upon whom the king bestowed this ambassage to help him after many dry employments. At this time the king began again to be haunted with spirits, by the magic and curious arts of the lady Margaret; who raised up the ghost of Richard duke of York, second son to king Edward the fourth, to walk and vex the king. This was a finer counterfeit stone than Lambert Simnel; better done, and worn upon greater hands; being graced after with the wearing of a king of France, and a king of Scotland, not of a duchess of Burgundy only. And for Simnel, there was not much in him, more than that he was a handsome boy, and did not shame his robes. But this youth, of whom we are now to speak, was such a mercurial, as the like hath seldom been known; and could make his own part, if at any time he chanced to be out. Wherefore this being one of the strangest examples of a personation that ever was in elder or later times; it deserveth to be discovered, and related at the full. Although the king's manner of showing things by pieces, and by dark lights, hath so muffled it, that it hath left it almost as a mystery to this day. The lady Margaret, whom the king's friends called Juno, because she was to him as Juno was to Æneas, stirring both heaven and hell to do him mischief, for a foundation of her particular practices against him, did continually, by all means possible, nourish, maintain, and divulge the flying opinion, that Richard duke of York, second son to Edward the fourth, was not murdered in the Tower, as was given out, but saved alive. For that those who were employed in that barbarous fact, having destroyed the elder brother, were stricken with remorse and compassion towards the younger, and set him privily at liberty to seek his fortune. This lure she cast abroad, thinking that this fame and belief together with the fresh example of Lambert Simnel, would draw at one time or other some birds to strike upon it. She used likewise a farther diligence, not committing all to chance; for she had some secret espials, like to the Turks' commissioners for children of tribute, to look abroad for handsome and graceful youths, to make Plantagenets, and dukes of York. At the last she did light on one, in whom all things met, as one would wish, to serve her turn for a counterfeit of Richard duke of York. This was Perkin Warbeck, whose adventures we shall now describe. For first, the years agreed well. Secondly, he was a youth of fine favour and shape. But more than that, he had such a crafty and bewitching fashion, both to move pity, and to induce belief, as was like a kind of fascination and enchantment to those that saw him or heard him. Thirdly, he had been from his childhood such a wanderer, or, as the king called him, such a landloper, as it was extreme hard to hunt out his nest and parents. Neither again could any man, by company or conversing with him, be able to say or detect well what he was, he did so flit from place to place. Lastly, there was a circumstance, which is mentioned by one that wrote in the same time, that is very likely to have made somewhat to the matter: which is, that king Edward the fourth was his godfather. Which as it is somewhat suspicious for a wanton prince to become gossip in so mean a house, and might make a man think, that he might indeed have in him some base blood of the house of York; so at the least, though that were not, it might give the occasion to the boy, in being called king Edward's godson, or perhaps in sport king Edward's son, to entertain such thoughts into his head. For tutor he had none, for ought that appears, as Lambert Simnel had, until he came unto the lady Margaret who instructed him. Antwerp and Tournay, and other towns of Flanders, for a good time; living much in English company, and having the English tongue perfect. In which time, being grown a comely youth, he was brought by some of the espials of the lady Margaret into her presence. Who viewing him well, and seeing that he had a face and personage that would bear a noble fortune; and finding him otherwise of a fine spirit and winning behaviour; thought she had now found a curious piece of marble to carve out an image of the duke of York. She kept him by her a great while, but with extreme secrecy. The while she instructed him by many cabinet conferences. First, in princely behaviour and gesture; teaching him how he should keep state, and yet with a modest sense of his misfortunes. Then she informed him of all the circumstances and particulars that concerned the person of Richard duke of York, which he was to act; describing unto him the personages, lineaments, and features of the king and queen his pretended parents; and of his brother, and sisters, and divers others, that were nearest him in his childhood; together with all passages, some secret, some common, that were fit for a child's memory, until the death of king Edward. Then she added the particulars of the time from the king's death, until he and his brother were committed to the Tower, as well during the time he was abroad, as while he was in sanctuary. As for the times while he was in the Tower, and the manner of his brother's death, and his own escape; she knew they were things that a very few could control. And therefore she taught him only to tell a smooth and likely tale of those matters; warning him not to vary from it. It was agreed likewise between them, what account he should give of his peregrination abroad, intermixing many things which were true, and such as they knew others could testify, for the credit of the rest; but still making them to hang together with the part he was to play. She taught him likewise how to avoid sundry captious and tempting questions, which were like to be asked of him. But in this she found him of himself so nimble and shifting, as she trusted much to his own wit and readiness; and therefore laboured the less in it. Lastly, she raised his thoughts with some present rewards, and farther promises; setting before him chiefly the glory and fortune of a crown if things went well, and a sure refuge to her court, if the worst should fall. After such time as she thought he was perfect in his lesson, she began to cast with herself from what coast this blazing star should first appear, and at what time it must be upon the horizon of Ireland; for there had the Thus therefore it came to pass: There was a townsman of Tournay, that had borne office in that town, whose name was John Osbeck, a convert jew, married to Catherine de Faro, whose business drew him to live for a time with his wife at London in king Edward the fourth's days. During which time he had a son by her, and being known in court, the king, either out of religious nobleness, because he was a convert, or upon some private acquaintance, did him the honour to be godfather to his child, and named him Peter. But afterwards, proving a dainty and effeminate youth, he was commonly called by the diminutive of his name, Peter-like meteor strong influence before. The time of kin, or Perkin. For as for the name of Warbeck, it was given him when they did but guess at it, before examinations had been taken. But yet he had been so much talked on by that name, as it stuck by him after his true name of Osbeck was known. While he was a young child, his parents returned with him to Tournay. Then was he placed in a house of a kinsman of his, called John Stenbeck, at Antwerp, and so roved up and down between the apparition to be, when the king should be engaged into a war with France. But well she knew, that whatsoever should come from her, would be held suspected. And therefore, if he should go out of Flanders immediately into Ireland, she might be thought to have some hand in it. And besides, the time was not yet ripe; for that the two kings were then upon terms of peace. Therefore she wheeled about; and to put all suspicion afar off, and loth to keep him any longer by her, for that she | better to give him the representation and the counknew secrets are not long-lived, she sent him unknown into Portugal with the lady Brampton, an English lady, that embarked for Portugal at that time; with some privado of her own, to have an eye upon him; and there he was to remain, and to expect her farther directions. In the mean time she omitted not to prepare things for his better welcome and accepting, not only in the kingdom of Ireland, but in the court of France. He continued in Portugal about a year; and by that time the king of England called his parliament, as hath been said, and declared open war against France. Now did the sign reign, and the constellation was come, under which Perkin should appear. And therefore he was straight sent unto by the duchess to go for Ireland, according to the first designment. In Ireland he did arrive at the town of Cork. When he was thither come, his own tale was, when he made his confession afterwards, that the Irishmen, finding him in some good clothes, came flocking about him, and bare him down that he was the duke of Clarence that had been there before. And after that he was Richard the third's base son. And lastly, that he was Richard duke of York, second son of Edward the fourth. But that he, for his part, renounced all these things, and offered to swear upon the holy | evangelists, that he was no such man; till at last they forced it upon him, and bad him fear nothing, and so forth. But the truth is, that immediately upon his coming into Ireland, he took upon him the said person of the duke of York, and drew unto him complices and partakers by all the means he could devise. Insomuch as he wrote his letters unto the earls of Desmond and Kildare, to come in to his aid, and be of his party; the originals of which letters are yet extant. Somewhat before this time, the duchess had also gained unto her a near servant of king Henry's own, one Stephen Frion, his secretary for the French tongue; an active man, but turbulent and discontented. This Frion had fled over to Charles, the French king, and put himself into his service, at such time as he began to be in open enmity with the king. Now king Charles, when he understood of the person and attempts of Perkin, ready of himself to embrace all advantages against the king of England, instigated by Frion, and formerly prepared by the lady Margaret, forthwith despatched one Lucas and this Frion, in the nature of ambassadors to Perkin, to advertise him of the king's good inclination to him, and that he was resolved to aid him to recover his right against king Henry, an usurper of England, and an enemy of France; and wished | him to come over unto him at Paris. Perkin thought himself in heaven now that he was invited by so great a king in so honourable a manner. And imparting unto his friends in Ireland for their encouragement, how fortune called him, and what great hopes he had, sailed presently into France. When he was come to the court of France, the king received him with great honour; saluted, and styled him by the name of the duke of York; lodged him, and accommodated him in great state. And the tenance of a prince, assigned him a guard for his person, whereof the lord Congresall was captain. The courtiers likewise, though it be ill mocking with the French, applied themselves to their king's bent, seeing there was reason of state for it. At the same time there repaired unto Perkin divers Englishmen of quality; Sir George Neville, Sir John Taylor, and about one hundred more; and amongst the rest, this Stephen Frion, of whom we spake, who followed his fortune both then and for a long time after, and was indeed his principal counsellor and instrument in all his proceedings. But all this on the French king's part was but a trick, the better to bow king Henry to peace. And therefore upon the first grain of incense, that was sacrificed upon the altar of peace at Boloign, Perkin was smoked away. Yet would not the French king deliver him up to king Henry, as he was aboured to do, for his honour's sake, but warned him away and dismissed him. And Perkin on his part was as ready to be gone, doubting he might be caught up under-hand. He therefore took his way into Flanders, unto the duchess of Burgundy; pretending that having been variously tossed by fortune, he directed his course thither as to a safe harbour: no ways taking knowledge that he had ever been there before, but as if that had been his first address. The duchess, on the other part, made it as new and strange to see him; pretending, at the first, that she was taught and made wise by the example of Lambert Simnel, how she did admit of any counterfeit stuff; though even in that, she said, she was not fully satisfied. She pretended at the first, and that was ever in the presence of others, to pose him and sift him, thereby to try whether he were indeed the very duke of York or no. But seeming to receive full satisfaction by his answers, she then feigned herself to be transported with a kind of astonishment, mixt of joy and wonder, at his miraculous deliverance; receiving him as if he were risen from death to life: and inferring, that God, who had in such wonderful manner preserved him from death, did likewise reserve him for some great and prosperous fortune. As for his dismission out of France, they interpreted it, not as if he were detected or neglected for a counterfeit deceiver; but contrariwise, that it did show manifestly unto the world, that he was some great matter; for that it was his abandoning that, in effect, made the peace; being no more but the sacrificing of a poor distressed prince unto the utility and ambition of two mighty monarchs. Neither was Perkin, for his part, wanting to himself, either in gracious or princely behaviour, or in ready and apposite answers, or in contenting and caressing those that did apply themselves unto him, or in pretty scorn and disdain to those that seemed to doubt of him; but in all things did notably acquit himself; insomuch as it was generally believed, as well amongst great persons, as amongst the vulgar, that he was indeed duke Richard. Nay, himself, with long and continued counterfeiting, and with oft telling a lie, was turned by habit almost into the thing he seemed to be; and from a liar to a believer. |