_The Defence of the Bridge_
On the Third of _August_, the Lady _Mary_ entered _London_ as _Mary_ the
_Queen_; and truly she began to make short Work of it; for, the next
Day, she restored _Gardiner_ to his Bishopric of _Winchester_, and, a
few Days later, made him _Chancellor_; and, on the Fifth, restored
_Bonner_ and _Tunstall_ to their Sees. _Ridley_, _Coverdale_, _Hooper_,
and the rest of our good reformed Bishops, of course, were removed; and
all beneficed Men that were married, or would not abjure the reformed
Faith, were put out of their Livings.
On the _13th_, _Miles_ and I went to hear what would be said at _Paul's
Cross_. There was one _Bourne_, a Canon, who preached such arrant
_Romanism_ and Flattery of _Bonner_, now Bishop of _London_, to his
Face, that the People hooted and cried, "Pull him down," and _Miles_,
flinging his Cap with good Aim, hit him on the Nose. Another flung a
Dagger, which just missed him, but caused him to quit his Post; and
honest Master _Bradford_, stepping into it, spread forth his Hands with,
"Good _Christian_ People"—whereon there was great Quiet; and by his
savoury and peaceifying Doctrine he allayed the Tumult. The same Day, an
old Priest said Mass at St. _Bartholomew's_, albeit the People went nigh
to pull him in Pieces.
The following _Sunday_, one Dr. _Watson_ preached at _Paul's Cross_, and
the Churchyard was lined with Soldiers, for Fear of like Tumult that was
on the _Sunday_ before. During the Week, _Northumberland_ had been
arraigned and condemned; and on the _Monday_ next following he was to be
beheaded; howbeit, he desired first to hear Mass and receive the
Sacrament after the _Romish_ Manner: thereby looking, maybe, to obtain
Pardon, but in sooth only proving a Renegade and losing the Grace of a
Confessor. The Lady _Jane_, looking forth of her Prison Window, saw him
on his Way to Mass; a grievouse Thing to her pure Mind; whereof she
spake next Day at Table, saying, "Wo worth him! Should I that am young
and in my few Yeres, forsake my Faith for the LOVE of Life? Much more he
should not, whose fatal Course could not long have lasted."
On the _14th Sept._ good Master _Latimer_ was sent Prisoner to the
Tower. Seeing a Warder there whose Face he remembered, he cried
cheerily, "What, old Friend! how do you? See, I am come to be your
Neighbour again!" The good _Cranmer_ was committed thither the same Day.
But these Things were done privately: a Boat, more or less, privily
shooting the Bridge and gliding aneath the Traitors' Arch, was ta'en no
Note of; while the Stretes and Highways were all astir with Preparations
for the Queen's Crownation, which was set for the _1st Octr._ The
_Easterlings_ were providing her a mighty fine Pageant, at _Gracechurch
Corner_, with a little Condyt that ran Wine: the _Genouese_ had theirs
in _Phanechurchstrete_, the _Florentines_ at the farther End of
_Gracechurchstrete_, with an Angel in Green and Gold, that, at pulling
of a String, set a Trumpet to his Mouth and made believe to blow
it,—only a real Trumpeter stood behind. With these and such-like Toys
the City amused their Minds, and humoured themselves into receiving the
Queen with due Loyalty.
But when she came forth ... alas! what an ill-favoured Lady! Sure, we
are all as GOD made us, for Homeliness or Comeliness; but yet a sweet
Nature may be discerned through the plainest Favour; but it could not be
discerned here. And she declined her Head upon her Hand, as though for
some Ache or Ail that constrained her to regard Everything done in her
Honour askance and awry. 'Tis Pity o' my Life! when a Lady is so ill at
Ease, she can't hold her Head strait on her Crownation-day. Doubtless
crowned Heads are liable to Aches as well as those that own ne'er a Cap;
and 'tis a heaven-sent Immunity when they are able as well as willing
for all Public Occasions, like our Royal Lady that now rules the Land.
With Bone-fires and Feastings, there were many private Families enjoyed
that Day more heartily, I wot, than the Queen's Grace in her Chair of
State. The Ceremonial was spun out beyond all Reason; and when she
returned, 'twas with the three Swords of the three Kingdoms borne
sheathed before her, and another unsheathed—alack! not the _Sword of
the Spirit_.
Old Master _Cheke_ dined with us next Day ... he was now a withered
little old Man, with a frosty Bloom still on his thin Cheek, but no Fire
in his Eye. He was mighty cast down at the late Imprisonment of his
Nephew, who, though now set at large, had had a narrow Escape of it, and
behoved to lie close. Wherefore, to the old Man's Thought, all Joy had
vanished, the Mirth of the Land was gone: and he took up his Parable and
prophesied evil Things.
"And who knows not," quod he, "whether we shall not shortly have a
_Romish_ King set over us? The Queen is in Love to Death with _Reginald
Pole_; and although he will none of her, he may not be able to resist a
matrimonial Crown. We shall have him sent for presently, and released
from his VOWS, as sure as _London Bridge_ is built on Wool-packs."
Well I wot Master _Cheke_ had the Truth on't. For the Queen's Grace,
being now seven an' thirty Year old, had no Time to lose, if she minded
to marry at all; and _Reginald Pole_, albeit now in his fifty-fourth
Year, was the very handsomest Man of his Time; more by Token _Michael
Angiolo_ (the greater Shame to him!) had put in his Face for that of our
SAVIOUR in his Scholar's famous Picture of the Raising of _Lazarus_.
Howbeit, e'en a Queen, it seemeth, may woo in vain. She sent for _Pole_
with a legatine Power, and moreover writ private Letters unto him and to
the _Pope_ with her own Hand. But, albeit the _Pope_ rejoiced in his
Heart at the Thought of regaining _England_, _Pole_ gave such manifest
Signals of hanging back until the Queen were married, as that her Grace
without more Ado entertained Proposals from _Philip_ of _Spain_; she
having, thirty Years before, been promised to his Father!
This Year, Master _Hewet_ was made _Sheriff_. Well remember I young
Mistress _Anne_, tripping down from her Closet in sky-blue Taffeta, and
flirting a little Feather-fan as she passed me, crying, "Make Way for
the _Sheriff's_ Daughter! Oh, _Ned_, how grand I am!—
_'Thereof the Mayor he was full fain,
An' eke the Sheriff also_—'"
I said, "Sure, Mistress, the _Sheriff_ in that Song came to no Good—I
wist not ye had so much Pride."
[Illustration: JJ
"Make way for the Sheriff's Daughter"]
She looked about on me with her sweet, smiling Face, and said, "I've no
Pride for myself, _Edward_, but I may have for him!—May I not? may I
not?" playfully calling after me as I turned away. I said, "Oh,
forsooth, Mistress, ye can do no Wrong."
"Is that in jest or earnest?" saith she, growing serious. "Am I proud,
_Edward_?"
When I saw her wistful Look, and thought within me how much indeed she
had to be both proud and vain of, yet was neither, I could carry it no
farther, but said, "In sooth, sweet Mistress, you are not."
"All's right then," quod she gaily, and hastened to the Window to see
the new Sheriff mount his gray Horse, richly caparisoned. Thereafter,
_Miles_ and I attended her and Mistress _Fraunces_ to the River Stairs,
where the Company were to embark on a Pleasure-party; I thought the
Barge had a goodly and lovely Freight!
Meantime, the Rumour of the Queen's Match occasioned great Murmuring
throughout the Land. And Sir _Thomas Wyat_, a _Kentish_ Gentleman,
concerted with the Duke of _Suffolk_ and Sir _Peter Carew_ to take Arms
and promote a general Rising, so soon as the _Prince_ of _Spain_ should
set Foot on _English_ Ground. The Duke, no Doubt, looked for the
Re-establishment of his Daughter, Lady _Jane_, now under Sentence, but
allowed the Liberty of the Tower. Sir _Thomas_, Son to that _Wyat_ of
_Allington Castle_ who writ good Verses, had oft been Ambassadour to
_Spain_, where the Cruelty and Subtlety of the People made him tremble
at the Thought of their obtaining a Footing in his native Land. But
alack! _Hew_, how many crying Evils must conspire together to give any
just Pretence for a Rising against constituted Authorities! And a
defeated Rebellion always strengthens the Hands of Government. So it was
in this Instance. We had not as yet been visited with Scourges nor
whipped with Scorpions; 'twas only the Fear of what might be, (presaged,
'tis true enough, by many Foretokens,) that tempted Men to shed Blood
and endanger their Heads for the Sake of their Country. Wherefore, a
Bird of the Air, I suppose, carrying the Matter, Sir _Peter Carew_,
finding the Plot bewrayed, takes Thought only for himself, and flies
over Seas; and _Wyat_, thinking the Hour unripe, yet purposing rather to
hurry forward than retreat, taketh Arms with the declared Aim of doing
no Hurt to the Queen's Person, but of removing her evil Counsellors.
Thereon the City was all Confusion. Though the 'Prentices had pelted the
_Spanish_ Ambassadours with Snow-balls, and elder People had spoken
against them under their Breath, yet that natural Loyalty there is in
the City, save under the most aggravating Circumstances, drew every one
together to make common Cause with the Queen so soon as 'twas bruited
that _Wyat_ was up in _Kent_. Five hundred of the Trained Bands were
forthwith sent out against him, and the City began to be kept with
harnessed Men.
The Lord Mayor, this Year, was Sir _Thomas White_, Merchant-taylor; he
that founded St. _John's_ College, _Oxford_. To him, at the _Guildhall_,
cometh my Lord Treasurer, and prayeth him to have at the least two
thousand Men in Harness at all Hours, for the Safeguard of the City. Now
begin the young Men of every Degree to look out and furbish their Arms
and Accoutrements; and the Hum of Preparation is heard throughout the
Stretes. Post following hot upon Post bringeth Tidings that the Duke of
_Suffolk_ in _Warwickshire_, having with all his Industry gotten
together but fifty Men, had given up the Game and betaken himself to a
Tenant of his, who kept him three Days hid in a hollow Oak till he was
taken; but that _Wyat_, with at least four thousand Men, (some made it
fourteen thousand,) was marching fast upon _Southwark_, and the Trained
Bands had gone over to him, which caused the Duke of _Norfolk_, sent
against him, to retreat.
Here then was a Prospect for the Bridge! the only Access by which he
could command the City. Thou shouldst have seen the Duke ride back, all
crestfallen, with his Guard at his Heels, all smirched and
tatterdemoiled, without Arrows or Strings to their Bows, or a Sword to
their Sides, or a Cap to their Heads. Some of the Urchins cried after
them, "A _Wyat_! a _Wyat_!" and got well cuffed for their Pains.
Then came the News of a Rising in _Hertfordshire_. On this the Queen
cometh to _Guildhall_, with the Lord Chancellor and all her Council,
guarded by a notable Company of Men at Arms; and, bespeaking the Lord
Mayor and Aldermen, she pleaded sore they would stand by her against the
Arch-traitor that aimed at removing her Counsellors and having the
Custody of her Person; affirming and alleging that she would never once
have entertained thought of her Marriage, had it not been infused into
her by others that 'twas expedient for the Country. When I heard Master
_Hewet's_ Report of her Argument, I remembered the Saying of Master
_Askew_ the Draper to Lord _Warwick's_ Man, 'That the City could
sometimes better spare the Court than the Court the City.'
They protested they would stand by her—could they do less? And
forthwith, Proclamation was made to this Effect:—Now then, let every
Man that is disaffected, and every Man that is faint-hearted, and every
Man that is of unstable Mind, be off as fast as he can. There's _Wyat_
ready to welcome all Well-wishers, coming along the _Kent Road_; and
_London Bridge_ is just now open to all those that like to join him,
which it will not be to-morrow; for the Draw-bridge is going to be sawn
asunder and cast into the River, the Gates are going to be shut, the
Gate-houses are going to be manned, the Cannons are going to be planted
to defend them and to take the Range of the _Borough_, the Lord Mayor
and Sheriffs in Harness are going to stand immediately behind the Gate,
and every Man on the Bridge will close his Windows and stand in his Door
with his 'Prentices armed and ready to do Battle. GOD save the Queen!
Not many crossed the Bridge after that. Those that did were glad to
explain 'twas on necessary and lawful Business, or they got hooted and
sometimes pelted. The Lord Mayor went with my Master into every House,
to see its Condition and Defence. When they reached the Door of the old
Lady that lived all by herself alone with her Cats, they could gain no
Entrance, nor hear Sound of Life within save a dismal Mewing. Master
_Hewet_ was for departing, saying he believed the House safe enough
though its Owner was shy of Strangers; but my Lord Mayor said a silent
House was not always the safest, and there might be Spies and even
harnessed Men shut up. So they persisted knocking; and at length a
skinny old Woman, all trembling with Fear, peered forth and would wit
what 'twas all about. When they told her the Bridge was going to be put
in a State of Defence for Queen _Mary_, she cried, "GOD save her sweet
Majesty!" and let them in, shutting and bolting the Door behind them.
She sayth, "Oh! Sirs, I see ye be loyal and honourable Gentlemen, well
affected to our blessed Queen, wherefore I fear not to trust you with my
Secret—howbeit, I am not the only one in this House."
The Lord Mayor gave a quick Look at Master _Hewet_.
—"I was, you must know," continued she, "Sub-prioress of a small
religious House at _Mickleham_ in _Surrey_ ... there were but six of us;
we were harmless and happy enough; howbeit, the Eighth _Harry_, that
called himself Defender of our Faith, turned us out Neck and Heels when
he put down the lesser Monasteries; and my Father, to whom this House
belonged, gave me Shelter in it during his Life, and left it to me at
his Death. Whereby I have been enabled to give House-room and Board to
my aged Superior, who otherwise would have been cast into the Strete,
through all the evil Times; none witting she was under my Roof. And now
that better Days are come, she is past any Advantage of them, being long
Time bed-rid, as ye shall see."
So she hobbled up-stairs before them, followed by her half-dozen Cats,
and led the Way into a Chamber having a bright Wood Fire kindled on the
Hearth, but nearly bare of Furniture, beyond a Chair, a Table, a
Crucifix, and a Couple of Tressel-beds, on one of which lay an old
Woman, sleeping, on the utmost Verge of Life. She mutely pointed to her,
then led them over the rest of the House, which was utterly disfurnished
and chiefly shut up; she having got rid of the Moveables for what they
would fetch, through the Agency of her only Confidant, Sir _Tobias_. So
now you have the Story of the old Lady that was supposed to live all
alone by herself with her Cats.
_Miles_' black Eyes kindled like Coals at the Thought of defending the
Bridge.... I confess I felt a Glow within me, and handled my Bill and
Bow with exceeding Complacence. The Mayor complimented my Master on
having a Couple of such smart Lads, and said his Premises would be well
defended. Also he said he wished he had such a fair Daughter as Mistress
_Anne_, who served him with Bread and Wine.
If the Queen were ever popular, it was that Time! What joyous Smiles and
brisk Words were exchanged as People ran along the Bridge!—what Glory
attended the Guards that manned the Gates!—how we revelled in every
Blow that cut down the Draw-bridge! Splash! it went into the River.
Spontaneously we gave three Cheers. Just before the Approach was cut
off, Lord _William Howard_, (since, Lord _Howard_ of _Effingham_,) with
fifty of his Men, rode over the Bridge to St. _George's_ Church,
_Southwark_, to note the State of Things, and so back. I remember his
looking gaily over his Shoulder as he passed, crying out in Hearing of
us all, "This Bridge hath to-day a Chance of being the _Thermopylæ_ of
_London_!"
[Illustration: J Jellicoe
"Rode over the Bridge"]
A Messenger from the Rebels came to parley, and was led blindfold across
the Bridge, to and from Lord _Pembroke_, Commander in Chief.
On _Saturday_ Morning, _Wyat_ was proclaimed Traitor, and a Price set on
his Head. There was a grand Muster of Horse and Foot in _Finsbury
Fields_. At three in the Afternoon, _Wyat_ advanced upon _London_ from
_Deptford_; and, as soon as his Movement was perceived, an eight Pounder
was levelled at him from the White Tower, the Shot of which took none
Effect. Immediately my Lord Mayor and the Sheriffs made Haste to _London
Bridge_: we gave them three Cheers. The Strete was presently choaked;
People removing their Stalls and Wares, Shop Shutters putting up, young
Men running up and down to Weapons and Harness, young Women beginning to
shed Tears, Children and Maids shutting themselves up in the upper
Stories.
My Hands trembled so with Emotion I could scarce fasten a Buckle.
Mistress _Anne_, passing, sayth, "Let me do it for you—Ladies of old
Time buckled on Knights' Harness and bade them good Speed, as I bid
you.... But oh! _Ned_, I am in Fear for my _Father_." I said, "But he
hath no Fear, unless for you. Therefore look not forth; the only Danger
is in a random Shot."
Then she asked me what I thought would happen if the worst came to the
worst. I told her I had not thought about it, so sure was I the best
would come to the best. She said she thought so too; at least she hoped
so; and bade me tell every Word of News I heard through the Wicket.
Presently I heard that _Wyat_, with his Army, was close beyond the
further Bridge Gate; and had pointed two Pieces of Ordnance against the
Bridge: which I thought needless to tell Mistress _Anne_.
He was a fine Fellow, _Hew_, in his Way, there's no gainsaying. He
thought to free his Country from Harm; and, when he heard a Price was
set upon his Head, he wrote his Name on a Slip of Paper and set it on
his Cap.
My Master was a-foot and in Harness on the Bridge all Night. The Women
kept close and quite still above-stairs, while _Miles_ and I kept Watch
below, but, I wot, they were as wakeful as ourselves. Towards Daydawn my
Master comes in: Mistress _Anne_, in her white Wrapper over her Dress,
leans over the Rail at the Stair-head, and cryeth, "Is all well?" "All
well, my Heart!" returns her Father. "Oh! thank GOD," cries she; and
meeting him half-way down the Stair, casts herself into his Arms.
'Twas _Sunday_ Morning; and maybe, a Day of much Prayer, if of little
Church-going: but scarcely a Day of Rest. A Banner of Defiance was
unfurled a-top of the Tower, and a heavy Piece of Ordnance discharged
when they changed the Watch.
Lord _Howard_ was walking to and fro on the Bridge, his Sword clanking
at every firm, heavy Tread; and anon he goeth to the Gate at the
_Southwark_ End, and calleth in a loud, determined Voice, "_Wyat!_"
Presently some one makes Answer, "What would ye with him?"
"I would speak with him," sayth my Lord.
Answereth the other, "Our Captain is busy; if ye have any Message for
him, I will bear it."
"Marry," sayth my Lord, "ask of him what he meaneth by this Invasion;
and whether he continue in his Purpose or no."
The Messenger departed; and in about three Quarters of an Hour returned
with a weighted Purse, containing Master _Wyat's_ Answer; which, being
flung over the Gate, was received and read by my Lord, who tare it up,
as good for Nought. On the _Saturday_ Afternoon, all Boats had been
brought to the City Side of the River, not to be taken therefrom on Pain
of Death.
My Lord _Howard_ turning in to our House about Noon, for Refreshment,
looketh fixedly on _Miles_, and sayth, "So you are young _Osborne_."
"No, my Lord," quod I, stepping forward, "I am he;" thinking he had
Somewhat to say unto me; but he only looked hard at me, and said "Oh."
At Table, my Master helping him to Wine, he sayth, "That is a rare
Brilliant on your little Finger, Master _Hewet_—may I be favoured with
a nearer View of it?" "My Lord," sayth Master _Hewet_, "it is a
Token-ring: I never take it off.—However," quod he presently, "you
shall see it, and read the Posy inside; connecting it with the Matter we
spake of just now." I noted a singular Smile on my Lord _Howard's_ Face
as he returned it.
That Night, like the last, was spent in Harness, but passed not, like
the last, without Event. The Weather was piercing cold; and a good
Watch-fire was kept up just within the Gate, whereat my Lord _Howard_,
Sir _Andrew Judd_, the _Lord Mayor_, Master _Hewet_, and others, stood
and warmed themselves. Meantime, Master _Wyat_, anxious to reconnoitre,
breaks down the Wall of a House adjoining the Gate on his side the
Draw-bridge, by which Breach he ascendeth the Leads of the Gate-house,
and thence coming down into the Porter's Lodge, it being about eleven o'
the Clock, he findeth the Porter sleeping, but his Wife, with sundry
others, watching over a Fire of Coals. On beholding _Wyat_ they suddenly
started; but he commanded them to keep quiet as they valued their Lives,
and they should sustain no Hurt; so they having no Courage to oppose
him, he went forth of the other Side the Gate-house to look across to
the Bridge. There, beyond the Chasm, within the second Gate, he noteth
my _Lord Deputy_, the _Lord Mayor_, and the Rest standing about the Fire
in their Clokes. After noting them well, and seeing there was no Hope of
taking them by Surprise, he returneth whence he came, and doeth his
Party to wit how the City strengthened itself and is on the Alert.
Peradventure to make farther Proof thereof, the Men of _Kent_ thereon
made an Uproar as it were in Sign of assaulting the Bridge, and fired
two Field Pieces. Whereat we were all alive and to Arms in an Instant;
and the Cries that ran along the Bridge shewed the Insurgents we were
ready for them.
On _Monday_ we were heartened, and doubtless _Wyat_ was disheartened, by
the Bruit of Lord _Abergavenny's_ marching upon him from _Blackheath_
with three Thousand Men. Thereon ensewed Diversity of Councils, in the
End whereof, Master _Wyat_ decided to march along the _Thames_ next Day,
to get Access to _Middlesex_ by _Kingston Bridge_. One of the
Lieutenant's Men of the Tower being despatched on special Charge across
to the Bishop of _Winchester's_ Palace, a Waterman of the Tower Stairs
prayed him for a Cast in his Boat, which he granted. Seven of _Wyat's_
Men being on the Look-out, levelled their Arquebusses at the Boat,
charging them to re-land, which they not complying with, the Men
discharged their Pieces with mortal Effect; for the poor Waterman fell
dead, and the Sculler with much Terror rowed back, through the Bridge,
to the Tower Wharf. The Lieutenant, in a mighty Heat at what had
happened, levelled seven great Pieces of Ordnance full against the south
End of the Bridge and against _Southwark_, besides all the Guns on the
White Tower, and over the Watergate, so that the Men and Women dwelling
in _Southwark_ rushed confusedly to Master _Wyat_, and prayed him to
take Pity on them, or they should be utterly undone and destroyed.
Whereat, he, partly abashed, said, "I pray you, Friends, have Patience a
little, and I will presently relieve you of your Fears." And so, gave
Orders to march; and cleared out of _Southwark_ about eleven of the
Clock on _Shrove Tuesday_, without leaving a Penny unpaid to the
Inhabitants, or doing the least Damage beyond sacking and destroying the
Bishop of _Winchester's_ Palace and Library. Thus ended our three Days'
Beleaguerment. Now, leaving the Bridge in sufficient Guard, Master
_Hewet's_ Post lay at one of the City Gates: and a general Muster in St.
_James's Field_ was proclaimed for Six o' the Clock next Morning.
At four o' Clock, however, the Drums called to Arms, _Wyat_ having
crossed at _Kingston_ and being already at _Brentford_. The
Law-Serjeants went to _Westminster Hall_, that Morning, with Harness
under their Gowns, and the Queen's Chaplain sung Mass before her with
Harness under his Vestments. By ten o' the Clock my Lord _Pembroke's_
Troop of Horse hovered about _Wyat's_ Party, and Ordnance began to be
fired on both Sides; whereon the Screams of Women and peaceable People
at _Charing Cross_, as well as the Firing, could be heard at the Tower.
_Wyat_ drove back my _Lord Chamberlain's_ Guard, and marched on to
_Ludgate_ in disorderly Array. There he knocked at the Gate; and my Lord
_Howard_ from within asked who knocked: and on his giving his Name,
cried, "Avaunt, Traitor! thou enterest not here." Sundry of his Men
cried, "Queen _Mary_ hath granted our Request, and given us Pardon!" but
'twas known for a Feint; so they had Nought for it but to return whence
they came; and at _Charing Cross_ the Fight was renewed and waxed hot.
At length, a Herald called on _Wyat_ to yield rather than shed more
Blood, and trust to the Queen's Mercy. Whereon, he, astonied and
dejected, replied, "Well, if I must, let me yield me to a Gentleman."
Sir _Morrice Berkeley_ bade him leap up behind him; and two others
picked up young _Cobham_ and _Knevet_, and so carried them off, and the
Fight was ended. They lay, that Night, in the Tower.
There was Somewhat mighty kindling, _Hew_, in that Defence of the
Bridge: and we all felt triumphant and thankful when the Fight was over;
but thereafter came great Gravity and Sadness, to muse on what might
have been, and on what would shortly befal those Men in the Tower. A
grievouse Thing is a Civil War.
Then Master _Hewet_,—ah! what a Shrievalty was his! but yet he thanked
God in After-time that it fell not a Year or two later—he must be
present at the beheading the poor guiltless Boy _Guilford_ _Dudley_, and
also of the Lady _Jane_. That same Day, _Hew_, there was set up a
Gallows at every Gate in _London_, and at the Bridge-foot; three or four
at _Charing Cross_ and in many other Places. About four hundred Rebels
were condemned in one Day. The Prisons were so o'er-crowded that they
were kept in Ward in Churches. The Lady _Elizabeth_ was committed to the
_Tower_; daily, new State Prisoners went in, and they that came forth,
'twas but to their Scaffolds. _Suffolk_, _Wyat_, the _Greys_—'twas an
awful Time to be Sheriff! There were City Feasts; but Men met to look
one another in the Face and ask what would come next, rather than for
Potacion and Refection.