animi minime suspicacis. This man who had not the heart to die, and who at the time of his execution was so divided betwixt the hopes of a pardon, and the fear of death, that he could not attend to his own de votions, but one while cast his eyes this way, and another that; now at his prayers, and anon breaking off from them to answer to that discourse which he overheard. This man, I say, is said by Alegambe to go to his death interritus et exporrecta fronte obtestans, &c. without any fear, and protesting that he exceedingly rejoiced that he was now to suffer that death which would be an entrance to an immortal life. The conclusion of all which is, that no Jesuit can be a traitor, and none suffer for treason but he must be a martyr. The case of Hall was much the same with that of Garnet; he did confess, and it was also proved that they were both together at Caughton, and they were both found together afterwards. It appeared that he had afterwards defended the treason to Humphry Littleton. The excuses, the discourse, the confessions, were much one and the same, but only that Garnet was the more resolved, and the more obstinate of the two. Now, because as this treason was hatched, and to be executed in the main at London, so because part of it was also to be done in the country, and the chief of the conspirators were there taken, therefore six of them were sent to Worcester, and there executed, viz. Humphry Littleton, John Winter, and this Hall, with three others. Thither, I say, he was carried with them for that reason, and not because his adversaries were ashamed to have his cause heard at London, as a bold authort of theirs would have it. It is no wonder to find these men so concerned to clear themselves of it, when all the world is against them; though this is no more to be done than to prove that one that kills a king is a good subject, and one, that stirs up his subjects in rebellion against him, is a friend to him. These were the persons that were taken and suffered for this bloody treason. Others of them escaped beyond sca; of which one, when Dominicus Vicus, governor of Calais, assured them of the king's favour, and, tho' they lost their own country, they might be received there, replied The loss of their country was the least part of their 'grief; but their sorrow was that they could not bring so brave a design to perfection. At which the governor could hardly forbear casting him into the sea, as Thuanus relates from Vicus's own mouth. Others there were, whom the government had a great suspicion of, as Henry Lord Mordaunt, and Edward, Lord Stourton, who, not appearing upon the summons to the parliament, were supposed to absent themselves from some intelligence that they received, were fined in the star-chamber, and to be imprisoned during the king's pleasure. The like sentence did Henry, Earl of Northumberland, undergo, for having admitted Thomas Percy, his kinsman, to be a gentleman pensioner without administering to him the oath of supremacy, when he knew him to be a recusant. This was the end of that plot, and of the persons concerned in it. And it would be happy if they had left none of their principles or temper behind them, a generation whom no favour will oblige, nor kindness re + Eudæmon. Joannis Apologia pro Garneto. Page 272. + Or Papist. tain; whom nothing but supremacy will content, and the most absolute authority can gratify. Whom nothing can secure against, but a sufficient power, or great industry or constant watchfulness, and scarcely all. And therefore it is fit, not only as a branch of our thankfulness to God, but also as a caution to ourselves, that this deliverance should be cele brated, and the memory of it perpetuated. I shall end with what is said of a great person ‡ of our own, some years since. Two great deliverances in the memory of many of us hath God in his singular mercy wrought for us of this nation, such as I think, take both together, no Christian age or land can parallel. One formerly from a foreign invasion; another, since then, of an hellish conspiracy § at home. Both such, as we would have all thought, when they were done, should never be forgotten. And yet, as if this land were turned oblivious, the land where all things are forgotten, how doth the memory of them fade away, and they, by little and little, grow into forgetfulness? We have lived to see eighty-eight almost forgotten (God be blessed who hath graciously prevented what we feared therein) God grant that we nor ours ever live to see November the fifth forgotten, or the solemnity of it silenced. THE FRENCH KING CONQUERED BY THE ENGLISH; The King of France and his Son brought Prisoners into England (Besides divers Earls, Lords, and above two Thousand Knights and Esquires) BY THE VICTORIOUS EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE; SON TO EDWARD THE THIRD. Wherein is given an Account of several great Battles fought and wonderful Victories obtained over the French, when they had six to one against the English, to the Honour and Renown of England's unparalleled Valour, Conduct, and Resolution. Written by a Person of Quality. London, printed for William Birch, at the Sign of the Peacock, at the lower End of Cheapside, 1678. Octavo, containing thirtyone Pages. The Life and Death of Edward, sirnamed, the Black Prince. THIS HIS Edward was the eldest son of that victorious prince, King Edward the third: his mother was the fair Philippa, daughter to William Earl of Hainault and Holland, who was delivered of this her first-born son at Woodstock, July 15, Anno Christi 1329, and in the Bishop Sanderson's Sermons, lib. i. ad populum Serm. v. p. 248. By the Spaniards in the third year of his father's reign. He was afterwards created Prince of Wales, Duke of Aquitain and Cornwall, and Earl of Chester. He was also Earl of Kent, in right of his wife Joan, the most admired beauty of that age, daughter of Edmund Earl of Kent, brother, by the father's side, to King Edward the second. King Edward was very sollicitous in the education of this his son, and provided him choice tutors, to train him up both in arts and arms: and among others Walter Burley, a doctor of divinity, brought up in Merton-college in Oxford, who wrote many excellent treatises in natural and moral philosophy, for his great fame in learning, had the honour to be one of the instructers of this hopeful prince. When he was but fifteen years old, his father King Edward, passing over into France, with a great and gallant army, took this his son along with him, making him a soldier, before he was grown to be a man: but, it seems, he longed to try what metal his son was made of in the bud; and haply he was loth to omit any thing that might give countenance and credit to this battle, wherein two kingdoms were laid at the stake. Anno Christi 1345, our King Edward was upon the sea in a fleet of above a thousand sail, and landed in Normandy: his land-forces were about two thousand five hundred horse, and his foot thirty thousand, most of them archers. Making pitiful havock in Normandy, he marched up almost to the very walls of Paris. Philip, the French king, had not slept all this while, but had raised and brought together one of the bravest armies, that ever France had seen, consisting of about a hundred, or six score thousand fighting men. King Edward, loaden and rich with spoils, seemed not unwilling to retreat. But they were now in the heart of their enemies country between the two good rivers of Seyne and Soame: and it was judged meet by our king to seek a passage out of these straits; and this enquiry was interpreted by the enemy to be a kind of flight, and King Edward was willing to nourish this conceit in them. The river of Soame, between Abbeville and the sea, was at low water fordable, and gravelly ground, whereof our king was informed by a French prisoner, whom they had taken. But the French king, wellacquainted with his own country, had set a guard upon that pass, of a thousand horse, and above six thousand foot, under the conduct of one Gundamar du Foy, a Norman lord of special note. King Edward, coming to this place, plunges into the ford, crying out, "He that loves me, let him follow me,' as resolving either to pass or die. These words, and such a precedent, so inflamed his army, that the passage was won, and du Foy defeated almost before he was fought with, the incomparable courage and resolution of the English appaling him, and carried back to King Philip fewer by two thousand than he carried with him, besides the terror which his retreat brought along with it: and, if the English were before unappaled, now much more they resolved to live and die with such a sovereign. Now was King Edward near unto Cressy, in the county of Ponthieu, lying between the rivers of Soame and Anthy, a place which unquestionably belonged to him, in the right of his mother, where he was careful to provide the best he could for his safety and defence. King Philip, being inraged for the late defeat, precipitates to the battle, wherein the great and just God intended to scourge the pride and sins of France, being the rather induced thereto, by his confidence in his numerous and gallant army, who were ready to tread upon one anothers heels, till the view of the English colours and battle put them to a stand. King Edward, having called upon God for his gracious aid and assistance, full of heroick assuredness, without the least perturbation, divided his army into three battalions. The first was disposed into the form of an hearse, where the archers stood in the front, and the men of arms stood in the bottom; and this was led by the young lion of Wales, our brave Prince Edward, to whose assistance the king joined some of his prime and most experienced captains; as Beauchamp Earl of Warwick, Godfrey of Harecourt; the Lords, Thomas Holland, Richard Stafford, John Chandois, Robert Nevil, La'ware, Bourchier, Clifford, Cobham, &c. And many other knights and gentlemen, to the number of eight hundred men at arms, two thousand archers, and a thousand Welch-men. In the second, were the Earls of Northampton and Arundel, the Lords Ross, Willoughby, Basset, St. Albine, &c. with eight hundred men at arms, and twelve hundred archers. In the third was the king himself, having about him seven hundred men at arms, and three thousand archers, with the residue of his nobles and people. The battle thus ordered, our king mounted upon a white hobby, rode from rank to rank to view them, and with quickening words encouraged them, that bravely they should stand to, and fight for his right and honour. And he closed the battles at their backs, as if he meant to barricado up their way from flying, which he did by plashing and felling of trees, and placing his carriages there, and all his other impediments. He commanded all men also to dismount, and to leave their horses behind them, and thus all ways and means of flight being taken away, the necessity doubtless did double their courages. The French king, Philip, had with him John of Luxembourg, King of Bohemia; the King of Majorca; the Duke of Alanson, his brother; Charles de Blois, the king's nephew; Ralph, Duke of Lorrain; the Duke of Savoy; the Earls of Flanders, Nevers, Sancerre, with many other dukes, earls, barons, and gentlemen bearing arms, and those not only French, but Almains, Dutch, and others. And, just the night before the battle, there came to the French army, Anne of Savoy, with a thousand men at arms, so that all things seemed to elate the pride of the French, and to fit them for destruction. The French army was also divided into three battalions. The vanguard the king committed to his brother, the Duke of Alanson, and the King of Bohemia; the rear to the Duke of Savoy. And the main battle he led himself, being so impatient of all delays, that he would scarce permit time for a little counsel, to consider what was fittest to be done. He caused also the auriflamb to be erected, which was an hallowed banner of red silk, whereof the French had a wonderful high conceit, as of a thing sent them from heaven, as the Ephesians thought of their Diana. The King of Bohemia, though he was short-sighted, hearing in what good array the English attended their coming, said plainly (contrary to the proud conceits of the French, who thought them in a posture of flight) 'Here will the English end their days or conquer.' He advised also that the army should take some repast, and that the infantry, consisting of the Genoese, who were about fifteen thousand cross-bows, and sure men, should make the first front, and the cavalry to follow, which was done accordingly. A little before the fight began, God, to shew that he was Lord of Hosts, and the only giver of victory, caused the black clouds to pour down upon them plenty of water, like so many funeral tears, enarching the air with a spacious rain-bow; and discharged sundry peals of thunder. The sun also, which before had hid his face under a black dark cloud, now broke forth, shining full in the Frenchmen's faces, and on the backs of the English. At the same time also great flocks of ravens, and other baleful birds of prey, came flying over the French army. The Duke of Alanson, contrary to his order, took it ill, that the Genoese were set in the front, and therefore in fury caused them to change place; which changed that seat of the army, and wrought that discontent also in these Italians, as irritated them more against the French than against their enemies. The sign of battle, being given by King Philip, was entertained with clamours and shouts, all things shewing the dread and horror of war; drums and trumpets sounding to a charge, banners flying in the air, and every where the glittering weapons threatening death and destruction. The French calamities began at the Genoese, who, under Carolo Grimaldi, and Antonio Doria, their colonels, being all of them cross-bow men, were to open a way by their arrows for the French horse; but this was the success of their service: their bow-strings being wet with the late rain, their bodies weary with a long march, their ranks (after the English had received their first volley upon their targets) opened with innumerable gaps, occasioned by the fall of their slain fellows, who were overthrown by our home-drawn arrows, were at last most outrageously scattered, and trampled under foot by Charles, Duke of Alanson (by command of King Philip himself) who, bringing up the horse with a full carrier, cried out, "On, on, let us make our way upon the bellies of these Genoese, who do but hinder us;' and instantly pricks on through the midst of them, followed by the Dukes of Lorrain and Savoy, never staying till he came up to the English battalion, wherein our gallant prince commanded. This fiery young count (contrary to good discipline) had also otherwise disobliged them, by disgraceful speeches even when they were ready to join battle. These French gallants, being thus mingled amongst them, were very many of them overthrown and slain by the English arrows, which equally brought to destruction both French and Genoese, shooting thickest where the crowd and confusion was greatest. Some rascals also that followed the English army, as they saw opportunity, stepped in among them, and helped to cut their throats, sparing neither lord nor lozel. The French men at arms, half out of breath with their post-haste, and terribly disordered by the perpetual storms of our whistling arrows, were now at handy strokes with the prince's battalion; neither was it long before the bright battle-axes, glittering swords, and lances, and such like other English weapons, had changed their hue, being covered |