352 HISTORY OF KING HENRY VII. coming over; signifying only to the king in the wherewith he was charged, nor endeavoured much mean time, that he doubted there were some to excuse or extenuate his fault: so that, not very greater ones in the ousiness, whereof he would wisely, thinking to make his offence less by con- give the king further account when he came to his fession, he made it enough for condemnation. It presence. i was conceived, that he trusted much to his former Upon Allhallows-day-even, being now the merits, and the interest that his brother had in tenth year of the king s reign, the king s second the king. But those helps were over-weighed by son Henry was created Duke of York; and as j divers things that made against him, and were well the duke, as divers others, noblemen, knights j predominant in the king s nature and mind, bachelors, and gentlemen of quality, were made First, an over-merit : for convenient merit, unto knights of the Bath according to the ceremony, which reward may easily reach, doth best with Upon the morrow after twelfth-day, the king re- kings. Next the sense of his power; for the moved from Westminster, where he had kept his j king thought, that he that could set him up, was Christmas, to the Tower of London. This he the more dangerous to pull him down. Thirdly, did as soon as he had advertisement that Sir the glimmering of a confiscation; for he was the Robert Clifford, in whose bosom or budget richest subject for value in the kingdom; there be- most of Perkin s secret were laid up, was come j ing found in his castle of Holt forty thousand marks in ready money and plate, besides jewels, into England. And the place of the Tower was chosen to that end, that iif Clifford should accuse any of the great ones, they might, without suspi cion or noise, or senuing abroad of warrants, be presently attached; the court and prison being within the cincture of one wall. After a day or two, the king drew unto him a selected council, and admitted Clifford to his presence; who first fell down at his feet, and in all humble manner craved the king s pardon; which the king then granted, though he were indeed secretly assured of his life before. Then commanded to tell his knowledge, he did amongst many others, of him self not interrogated, appeach Sir William Stan ley, the lord chamberlain of the king s household. The king seemed to be much amazed at the naming of this lord, as if he had heard the news of some strange and fearful prodigy. To hear a man that had done him service of so high a na ture, as to save his life, and set the crown upon his head; a man, that enjoyed, by his favour and advancement, so great a fortune both in honour and riches; a man, that was tied unto him in so near a band of alliance, his brother having married the king s mother; and lastly, a man, to whom he had committed the trust of his person, in mak ing him his chamberlain; that this man, noways disgraced, noways discontent, noways put in fear, should be false unto him. Clifford was re quired to say over again and again the particulars of his accusation; being warned, that in a matter so unlikely, and that concerned so great a servant of the king s, he should not in any wise go too far- But the king finding that he did sadly and liunstantly, without hesitation or varying, and with those civil protestations that were fit, stand to that he had said, offering to justify it upon his soul and life; he caused him to be removed. And after he had not a little bemoaned himself unto his council there present, gave order that Sir William Stanley should be restrained ir l>; s own chamber where he lay before, in the square tower: dnd the next day he was examined by the lords. jion his examination he denied little of that household-stuff, stocks upon his grounds, and other personal estate, exceeding great. And for his revenue in land and fee, it was three thousand pounds a year of old rent, a great matter in those times. Lastly, the nature of the time; for if the king had been out of fear of his own estate, it was not unlike he would have spared his life. But the cloud of so great a rebellion hanging over his head, made him work sure. Wherefore after some six weeks distance of time, which the king did honourably interpose, both to give space to his brother s intercession, and to show to the world that he had a conflict with himself what he should do; he was arraigned of high treason, and condemned, and presently after beneaded. Yet is it to this day left but in dark memory, both what the case of this noble person was, for which he suffered; and what likewise was the ground and cause of his defection, and the aliena tion of his heart from the king. His case was said to be this : That in discourse between Sir Robert Clifford and him he had said, " That if he were sure that that young man were King Ed ward s son, he would never bear arms against This case seems somewhat a hard case, both in respect of the conditional, and in respect of the other words. But for the conditional, it seemeth the judges of that time, who were learned men, and the three chief of them of the privy coun cil, thought it was a dangerous thing to admit ifs and ands, to qualify words of treason; whereby every man might express his malice, and blanch his danger. And it was like to the case, in the following times, of Elizabeth Barton, the holy maid of Kent; who had said, "That if King Henry the Eighth did not take Catherine his wife again, he should be deprived of his crown, and die the death of a dog. And infinite cases may be put of like nature; which, it seemeth, the grave judges taking into consideration, would not admit of treasons upon condition. And as for tha positive words, " That he would not bear anna against King Edward s son;" though the words
