A DETECTION Of the ACTIONS OF MARY Queen of Scots, CONCERNING The Murder of Her HUSBAND, and Her Conspiracy, Adultery, and pretended Marriage with the Earl BOTHWEL.  
And a Defence of the True LORDS, Maintainers of the KING'S Majesty's Action and Authority.  
Written in Latin by G. BUCHANAN.  
Translated into Scotch. And now made English.  
LONDON, Printed, and are to be Sold by Richard janeway, in Queen's Head-Ally, near Pater-Noster-Row. 1689.   

To the Reader.  
I Think it necessary, for the Reader's better understanding the following History, to acquaint him that James the Fifth, having lost his two Sons (both in one Week) a little before he was slain at Flodden-Field, left no other Heir, but Marry, a Child of four days old, which he never had seen. This Child was accepted, and at five years of Age (the Scots seeing they were likely to make better Merchandise of her in France than with us in England, though we then proffered high) sent her into France, and at Twelve married her to the Dolphin, afterward Francis the First, who at two Years left her a Widow, and so she returned to Scotland, where she found her Mother weltering in her Cruelties, (a Guise) and wasting and gathering with all her might. She being removed, the Queen came to be Master of herself, and soon after in a Gaiety took Henry Lord Darley, Son to the Earl of Lenox, one of the goodliest Personages accounted of his time, to her Husband. But it seems her first flames being allayed, there was one David Rise either had been, or was grown more into Favor, so that the King grew every day discountenanced; And whereas before in the Coins (as many of them I have seen, comparing the Years) it was in the end of one Year, Henricus & Maria, etc. it was in the beginning of the other, Maria & Henricus, etc. And instead of receiving the Honour of a King, he was sent away from the Court without either Train or Necessaries. This with other Informations of the Queen's Carriages, and the Encouragement of some of the Nobility brought him back to Edinburgh, where finding David in the Queen's Company, snatched him out of her Presence, (giving her some words of Comfort and Assurance, for she was then great with Child) and with some of his Assistance sent him into another Life.  
This Minion being gone, Bothwel came into Favor, and that how swiftly and powerfully you may perceive by the Letters annexed to the Discourse: but her hate to her Husband was so exasperated, that both her and Bothwel's Malice and Wits, made his Destruction their chief aim. Her Carriage to him grew every day more and more strange, she augmented her Neglect, in so much that at the Christening of that Son, who was after a Plague to this Nation, he was not suffered to receive the least Honours or Addresses.  
She being again at liberty than thought to bestir herself about the compassing of Revenge; Poison was attempted, but the strength of his Youth overcame it; which the accursed Woman seeing, flattered him into Agreement, and presently lulled him into Credulity; so that he came again to Edinburgh, and was lodged in a little House near the Palace, but out of all hearing. Hither she brought her own rich Bed, and frequently visited him with all shows of Affection. But one Sunday Night, she discovered herself, and fetching a deep Sigh, O, says she, this time twelve Month was David Rise slain. This it seems came from her heart; for within a few days, the unfortunate young Man, as an Inferiae to the Ghost of a Fiddler, was strangled in his Bed, the House blown up, and his Body thrown out into the Garden, the Queen's rich Bed being a day or two before removed.  
Now was she at liberty for Bothwel, but there was one Obstacle, he had a Wife already, but she poor Woman must be forced to sue out a Divorce, which was procured in eight days. So that now the way was smooth, and an Ambassador with fine penned Instructions sent to the King of France, to give an account of her new marriage. But all this could not still the Cries of the People, whose impatience, grief, and rage at that time (particulars whereof I have seen in an authentic Scotch Diurnal of that date) was such, that Bothwel was forced to suborn some People to accuse him; but he having Creatures enough, few daring to witness, and many judges of his party, was acquitted. But at last the honest part of the Nobility, sensible of those miscarriages, made a Head, broke Bothwel's Forces, put him to flight, took her Prisoner, and made her resign up the Government to her Son, (all this before the said Ambassador who was sent into France, had had his first Audience) than a Child in the Cradle, known afterwards by the name of James the Sixth.  
This is as much as I can say will give light to the Book that follows. 'Twas written by the most excellent Pen of that Age, a Man, as Sir Philip Sidney justly calls him, of a piercing Wit, consummate Learning, and careful Observation of things, which made him known to the greatest Princes of his Time, and dear to his own. This made him Schoolmaster to his King, who employed him in the weightiest Transactions at home and abroad, made him Keeper of the Privy Seal of Scotland (though he never sought himself, nor could withdraw from the ancient Parsimony and Frugality, he dying very poor.) So that it is not to be supposed that a Person so well qualified for knowledge in these things, and of a Reputation so untouched, would have adventured to divulge matters of this nature, in a place where most men might have called him Lyar. But certainly, both in his History, which he dedicated to the Son, and in this Piece, which be penned in the name of the Lords, if there were any fault, it was too broad. And though worthy Master Cambden in his Annals tells us, He wished, he might have wiped out all that he had writ against Mary Queen of Scots with his Blood, yet when I consider the Times he writ in, and the general silence of it among the Scots, and the disgrace that Buchanan died in when King James came to maturity; methinks I cannot give so much credit in this to that famous Historian, as in other things, though he might mendacium dicere, not mentiri.  
And though Caussin in his Holy Court, make her a Heroine, nay, a Saint: and Strada in his De Bello Belgico, digresses to celebrate her with immoderate praises, yet certainly any man, that would guide his historical faith aright, will much rather choose to believe men either Actors in a Business, or neighbours to it, and such as receive assurance from their eyes, than men that are remote, and such as are necessitated to see through the false or broken light of Information; especially Persons hid in Cells, and excluded from Business, absolutely devoted to a Religion, to which she was an Appuy, and absolute Enemy to that Power under which she received just Sentence and Execution. To say nothing that the Religious especially those that seek to grow into the repute of the World by carnal ways, think themselves highly advanced by a long Bead-roll of Martyrs, be their pretences never so slight, or their Persous themselves never so much deserving an Anathema.  
Farewell.   

A DETECTION Of the ACTIONS of MARY QUEEN of SCOTS.  
WHereas of things judicially determined within a Dominion, to have an Account demanded by Strangers, is to such as are not subject to Foreign Jurisdiction, both strange; and also for the strangeness, displeasant. To us, above all other, it ought to be most grievous, who are driven to this Straight of Necessity, that whose Faults we desire to cover, their Lives we are forced to accuse, unless we ourselves will be accounted the most wicked Persons that live. But a great part of this Grief is relieved by your Equity (most excellent Queen▪ who take it no less displeasantly to see your Kinswoman, than we to see our Queen thus, in speech of all Men, to be so dishonourably reported of; who also are for your part no less desirous to understand the Truth, than we for ours to avoid Slander. Therefore we will knit up the Matter as briefly as possibly may be; and declare it with such shortness, as we may rather seem to have lightly run over the chief Points, than to have largely expressed them; beginning at the Queen's first Inconstancy. For, as in making of her Marriage, her Lightness was very headlong and rash, so suddenly followed either inward Repentance, or, at least, outward Tokens of Change of her Affection, without any Causes appearing: For whereas the King, in former time, was not only neglected, but also unworthily used; at length began open Hatred to break out against him, especially in that Winter when he went to Pebble with a small Train, even too mean for a private Man; not being sent▪ thither a-Hawking, but commanded away into a Corner, far from Council, or Knowledge of public Affairs. Neither is it necessary to put in Writing those things, which as they were then as a Spectacle, noted of all Men's Eyes, so now, as a fresh Image, they remain imprinted in all Men's Hearts. And though this were the beginning of all the Evils that followed; yet, at the first their Practices were secret, so as not only the common People; but also such as were right familiar, and present at the doing of many matters, could not understand throughly, what thing the Queen then chiefly intended.  
At the last, about the Month of April, in the Year 1566, when the Queen was returned from Dunbar to Edinburgh, and was lodged in the Castle; she kept there till the time of her Travail of Child. After her Deliverance, immediately the secret Counsels of the intended Mischief began to break out; the effect whereof was this, to dispatch away the King by one means or other howsoever, and to marry with Bothwel. And that herself should not be touched with suspicion of the Murder; she began secretly, by little, and little, to sow Seeds of Dissension between the King and the Lords that were then at Court, still more and more Insflaming them, to bring the Matter to deadly Feud. And if at any time, she espied the Suspicions of the one against the other to languish, immediately, with new Reports to both Parties, she whetted them on again to fresh Displeasures, persuading the Nobility against the King, and the King against the Nobility, that each intended others Destruction. And she thought nothing so long as to see the Matter come to Strokes, not caring whether of them obtained the Victory; for she accounted the Loss on either side for her Advantage, as hoping thereby to advance forward one Degree nearer to that which she intended. Finally, in short time she so filled their Hearts with mutual Jealousies one against another, that there was not a Man of any Reputation in the Court; but was driven to this Necessity, either with Dishonour, to yield to Rumours feigned against him, or to euter into Combat with the Reporters, or to withdraw him home. And though we shall pass over the rest, having desire to haste to the chief Point of the Matter; yet this one notable slanderous Practice at that time, is not to be omitted. For on a time when the King had been in talk with the Queen, till the Night was far spent; the Sum, in a manner of all her Cummunication, was, That almost all the Nobility had conspired his Death, and were devising how to dispatch him. After the King's Departure from her, she sent forthwith for the Earl of Murray her Brother, who after was Regent, with this Message, That the Matter was heinous, and necessarily requiring his Presence without delay. He being awaked out of sound Sleep in great Fear, cast a Nightgown over his Shirt, and as he was half naked, ran to her in haste. To him than she used even the like Talk, as she had before to the King, informing him that the King boiled in such deadly Hatred against him; and took it so displeasantly, that he stood so highly in her Grace, that he was fully determined, so soon as any possible Opportunity served, to murder him. So, as much as in her lay, she left no Means unassayed to set them together by the Ears, and without all doubt had done it indeed, if it had not been God's good Pleasure to deliver the innocent Persons from so perilous Treasons, and to disclose her wicked Treachery.  
When this Attempt failed her, she assailed the young and unexperienced Gentleman with a new subtle Practice. She earnestly laboured with him, That while she was great with Child, he should 
The Queen offereth to be Bawd to her own Husband.  choose him some young Gentlewoman, whereof there was great store, whose Company he might use in the mean time. She promised him her assent and furtherance with Pardon and Leave to commit the Offence. She named to him the Earl of Murray's Wife; not for that she esteemed that most noble Lady most apt for such a Villainy, but because she thought by that way to be revenged of three Enemies at once, the King, the Earl, and his Wife, and therewithal to win a Colour and Cause of Divorce, to make empty Bedroom for Bothwel. After she was delivered of Child, though she courteously entertained all other; yet as oft as Word was brought her that the King was come to see her, both she and her Company so framed their Speech and Countenance, as if they seemed to fear nothing more, than that the King should not perceive that they loathed him, and that his Coming and Presence was displeasant to them all. On the other side Bothwel alone was all in all, he alone was Governor of all her Counsels, and all her Affairs. And so desirous was the Queen to have her hearty Affection towards him understood of all Men, that if any Suit were to be made towards her, there was no way of speeding for any Man, but by Bothwel to obtain it.  
Not long after her Deliverance▪ on a Day very early, accompanied with very few that were privy of her Counsel, she went down to the Waterside, at the Place called the New-Haven; and while all marvelled whither she went in such haste; she suddenly entered into a Ship, there prepared for her, which Ship was provided by Wil. Blacater, Edm. Blacater, Leonard Robertson, and Tho. Diokson, Bothwel's Servants, and famous Robbers, and Pirates. With this Train of Thiefs, all honest Men wondering at it, she betook herself to Sea, taking not any other with her, no not of her Gentlemen, nor necessary Attendants for common Honesty. In Aloe Castle where the Ship arrived, how she behaved herself, I had rather every Man should with himself imagine it, than hear me declare it. This one thing I dare affirm, that in all her Words and Doings, she never kept any regard, I will not say of Queen-like-Majesty, but not of Matron-like-Modesty. The King, when he heard of this sudden Departure of the Queen, followed after with all the haste that he possibly could by Land, and there overtook her, in purpose, and hoping there to be in her Company, and to enjoy the mutual loving Fellowship of Marriage. But how lovingly he was received of her, both all they that were present, and such as have heard them report it, can well remember. For being scarcely suffered to tarry there a few Hours, while his Men and Horses baited, he was enforced to get him away in haste again, on Pain of further Peril. As for herself, she pastimed there certain Days, if not in Princely Magnificence; yet in more than Princely, or rather Unprincely Licentiousness. There went she a hunting, once at the River of Magat, another time at the Forest of Glenartue. There how coily; yea, how lostily and disdainfully she behaved herself to the King, What need it be rehearsed; for the thing was openly done in all Men's Sight, and continueth imprinted in all Men's Memories.  
When she was returned to Edinburgh, she took not her Lodging in her own Palace; but in a private House next adjoining to john Balfours. Thence she removed into another House, where the yearly Court, which they call the Exchequer, was then kept: For this House was larger, and had pleasant Gardens to it, and next to the Garden all along, a solitary vacant Room. But there was another Matter, which more than all these things alured her thither. There dwelled hard by one David Chambers, Bothwel's Servant, whose Backdoor adjoined to the Garden of the Queen's Lodging. The rest, who guesseth not; for the Queen herself confessed the Matter, both to many other; and also, namely to the Regent and his Mother. But she laid all the blame upon my Lady Rerese, a Woman of most vile Unchastity, who had sometime been one of Bothwel's Harlots; and then was one of the chief of the Queen's Privy Chamber. By this Woman, who now in her Age had from the Gain of Whoredom, betaken herself to the Craft of Baudry, was the Queen, as herself said, betrayed. For Bothwel was brought through the Garden into the Queen's Chamber, and there forced her against her Will, Forsooth. But how much against her Will, Dame Rerese betrayed her, time, the Mother of Truth, hath disclosed. For within few days after, the Queen intending, as I suppose, to requite Force with Force, and to ravish him again, sent Dame Rerese (who had herself also before made Trial of the Man's Strength) to bring him Captive unto her Highness. The Queen with Margaret Carwood, a Woman privy to all her Secrets, did let her down by a String over an old Wall into the next Garden. But in such Warlike Affairs, all things cannot ever be so well foreseen; but that some incommodious Chance may overthwartly happen. Behold, the String suddenly broke, and down with a great Noise fell Dame Rerese, a Woman very heavy, both by unwieldy Age, and massy Substance. But she, an old beaten Soldier, nothing dismayed with the Darkness of the Night, the height of the Wall, nor with the suddenness of the Fall, up she getteth, and running to Bothwel's Chamber, she got the Door open; and out of his Bed, even out of his Wives Arms, half a sleep, half naked, she forceably brings the Manto the Queen. This Manner and Circumstances of the Deed, not only the most Part of them that then were with the Queen have confessed; but also George Daglish, Bothwel's Chamberlain, a little before he was executed, plainly declared the same, which his Confession still remaineth upon Record.  
In the mean time, the King being commanded out of sight, and with Injuries and Miseries banished from her, kept himself close, with a few of his Servants at Sterline. For alas! what should he else do? He could not creep into any piece of Grace with the Queen; nor could get so much as to maintain his daily necessary Expenses, to maintain his few Servants and Horses: And finally, with Brawling, lightly rising from every small Trifle, and by Quarrels usually picked, he was chased out of her Presence; yet, his Heart, obstinately fixed in loving her, could not be restrained; but he must needs come back to Edinburgh, on purpose, with all kind of serviceable Humbleness, to get some entry into her former Favour, and to recover the kind Society of Marriage. Who once again being with most dishonourable Disdain excluded, returned from whence he came, there to bewail his woeful Miseries, as in a solitary Desert.  
Within few days after, when the Queen determined to go to jedworth, to the Assizes there to be holden, about the beginning of October, Bothwel making his Journey into Liddesdale. There behaving himself neither according to the Place whereto he was called, nor according to his Nobili●y of Race and Estimation, he was wounded by a poor Thief, that was himself ready to die, and carried into the Castle, called the Hermitage, with great uncertainty of his Recovery. When News hereof was brought to Borthwick to the Queen, she flingeth away in haste like a mad Woman by great Journeys in Post, in the sharp time of Winter, first, to Melrose, and then to jedworth. There though she heard sure News of his Life; yet her Affection, impatient of delay, could not temper itself; but needs she must bewray her outrageous Lust, and in an inconvenient time of the Year, despising all Discommodities of the Way and Wether, and all Dangers of Thiefs, she betook herself headlong to her Journey, with such a Company, as no Man of any honest Degree would have adventured his Life, and his Goods among them. Thence she returned again to jedworth, and with most earnest Care and Diligence, provideth and prepareth all things to remove Bothwel thither. When he was once brought thither, their Company and familiar Haunt together, was such as was smally agreeing with both their Honours. There, whether it were by their Nightly and daily Travels, dishonourable to themselves, and infamous among the People; or by some secret Providence of God, the Queen fell into such a sore and dangerous Sickness, that scarcely there remained any Hope of her Life.  
When the King heard thereof, he hasted in Post to jedworth, to visit the Queen, to comfort her in her Weakness, and by all the gentle Services that he possibly could, to declare his Affection and hearty Desire to do her Pleasure. So far was it off, that his Lodging and things necessary, were provided for him against his coming (as were wont to be for mean Persons) that he found not any one Token towards him of a Friendly Mind. But this was a Point of most barbarous Inhumanity used against him, that the Nobility, and all the Officers of the Court that were present, were specially forbidden to do him any Reverence at all at his coming, nor to yield him their Lodging, nor to harbour him so much as for one Night. And whereas the Queen suspected that the Earl of Murray, which afterward was Regent, would show him Courtesy, she practised with his Wife to go home in haste, and feign herself sick, and keep her Bed, that at least by this Colour, under Pretence of her Sickness, the King might be shut out of Doors. Being thus denied all Duties of civil Kindness, the next Day with great Grief of Heart, he returned to his old solitary Corner. In the mean time, while the King in that want of all things, and forsaken of all Friends, scarce with begging findeth Room in a Cottage; Bothwel, out of the House where he was lodged before, as it were in Triumph over the King, was gloriously removed in sight of the People into the Queen's own Lodging, and there laid in a lower Parlour, directly under the Chamber where the Queen herself lay sick. There, while they both were yet feeble and unhealed, she of her Disease, and he of his Wound, the Queen being very weak of her Body, yet visited him daily. And when they were both a little recovered, and their Strengths not yet fully settled, they returned to their old Pastime again, and that so openly, as they seemed to fear nothing more, than lest their Wickedness should be unknown.  
About the fifth day of November, being removed from jedworth, to a Town called Calco; there she received Letters from the King, which when she had read in presence of the Regent, the Earl of Huntley, and the Secretary; she cast a piteous look, and miserably tormented herself, as if she would have immediately fallen down again into her former sickness; and she plainly and expressly protested, That unless she might by some means or other be dispatched of the King, she should never have one good day: And if by no other way she could attain it, rather than she would abide to live in such sorrow, she would slay herself.  
Within few days after, while in her return through Marchland she lay at Coldingham, Dame Rerese passed through the Watch, and was known, and let go. What Company she had, and whither she went at that time of the night, it was not unknown to the Queen. From thence, about the end of November, she came to Cragmillar, a Castle about two miles from Edinburgh; there, in presence of the Earl of Murray (who afterwards was Regent, and now is himself also slain) and of the Earls of Huntley and Argyle, and the Secretary, she fell into her said former Discourse; and also added the most commodious way, as she thought, how it might be brought to pass, that is to sue a Divorce against the King: And she doubted not but that it might be easily obtained, 
Cousin Germane.  forasmuch as they were the one to the other in such degree of Consanguinity, as by the Pope's Law might not marry together, especially (which was easy for her to do) the Bull being conveyed away, whereby the same Law was dispensed with. Here when one had cast a doubt, That if she should go that way to work, their Son should be made a Bastard, being born out of lawful Wedlock, especially sith neither of his Parents were ignorant of the causes whereby the Marriage should be void. When she had tossed this Answer a while in her mind, and knew that he said truth, and that she durst not as yet disclose her purpose to make away her Son, she gave over that device of Divorce; and yet from that day forward, she never ceased to pursue her intention of murdering the King, as may easily be perceived by that which followed.  
The King being returned from Sterline to Cragmillar, when he hoped to have found her more gentle toward him, and her displeasure by process of time somewhat appeased, he so found no token of change of her affection, that he was not allowed any thing for his daily sustenance, unless he kept him still at Sterline; which thing exceedingly increased the People's suspicion, otherwise of itself already enough inclined to that Judgement, of the unchaste Company of the Queen with Bothwel.  
About the beginning of December, when there were Ambassadors come out of France and England, to the Christening of the King that now is; that Bothwel might be seen gorgeously arrayed among the Nobility, she herself laid out the Money to buy him Apparel, and some she bought herself of the Merchants for him; and she so applied herself with such diligence in overseeing the making thereof, as if she had been, I will not say his Wife, but even his Servant. In the mean time, her lawful Husband at the Christening of his own Child, not only wanted all her Maintenance for his necessary Expenses, but also was commanded not once to come in the Ambassadour's sight; his ordinary Servants were removed from him; the Nobility were enjoined not once to attend on him, nor to do him Honour, nor in a manner to know him; the foreign Ambassadors were warned not to talk with him, whenas the most part of the day they were in the Castle where he was.  
The young Gentleman, thus contemptuously and unkindly used, fell in such despair, that he departed from Sterline and went to Glascow to his Father: At his departure, the Queen still pursued him with her wont hatred, all his Silver Plate, wherewith he was served from his Marriage till that day, she took it away every whit, and appointed Pewter in the stead thereof: But let this serve only to prove her contempt of him; the rest that followed are evident Arguments of outrageous Cruelty and unappeasable Hatred. Before he had passed a mile from Sterline, all the parts of his Body were taken with such a sore ache, as it might easily appear, that the same proceeded not of the force of any sickness, but by plain treachery: The tokens of which treachery, certain black pimples, so soon as he was come to Glascow, broke out over his whole Body, with so great ache and such pain throughout all his Limbs, that he lingered out his life with very small hope of escape; and yet all this while, the Queen would not suffer so much as a Physician once to come at him.  
After the Ceremonies of the Christening were ended, she practised with her Brother the Earl of Murray, that when he should go to conduct the Earl of Bedford, the Queen of England's Ambassador, to St. Andrews, he should require Bothwel also to bear him Company, who indeed freely promised so to do; howbeit, both he and the Queen, the Deviser of that Dissimulation, thought nothing less, as the success showed: For so soon as the King was gone to Glascow, and the rest towards St. Andrews, she, with her Bothwel, got her to Drumen, and from thence to Tylebarn: In which Houses, they so passed the time about eight days, in every corner, and in familiar haunting together, as all (saving themselves alone, that had thrown away all shame) were highly offended with their contempt and vile regard of public Fame, seeing them now not once to seek to cover their filthy Wickedness.  
When about the beginning of january, they were returned to Sterline, she began to find fault with the House wherein her Son was nursed, as incommodious, because it stood in a cold and moist place, dangerous for bringing the Child to a Rheum: But it shall easily appear, that this was done for other purpose, forasmuch as all these Faults that she pretended, were not in that House; but were, indeed, in the other House, to which the Child was removed; being set in a low place, being a very Marsh. The Child being scarcely above six Months old, in the deep of a sharp Winter, was conveyed to Edinburgh: There, because the first Attempt prevailed not, and the force of the Poison was overcome by strength of Nature; yet, that, at length, she might bring forth that wherewith she had so long travailed, she entereth into new Devices for the Murder of the King.  
Herself goeth to Glascow; she pretendeth the Cause of her Journey to be, to see the King alive, whose Death she had continually gaped for the whole Month before: But what was, indeed, the true Cause of that Journey, each Man may plainly perceive by her Letters to Bothwel. Being now out of Care of her Son, whom she had in her own Ward, bending herself to the Slaughter of her Husband, to Glascow she goeth, accompanied with the hamilton's, and other the King's natural Enemies.  
Bothwel (as it was agreed on between them before) provideth all things ready, that were needful to accomplish that heinous Act: First of all, an House not commodious for a sick Man, nor comely for a King; for it was both torn and ruinous, and had stood empty, without any Dweller, for divers Years before; in a place of small Resort, between the old fallen Walls of two Churches, near a few Almshouses for poor Beggars. And that no commodious Means for committing that Mischief might be wanting, there was a Postern-door in the Town-wall, hard by the House, whereby they easily might pass away into the Fields. In choosing of the place, she would needs have it thought, that they had respect to the wholsomness thereof: And to avoid Suspicion, that this was a feigned Pretence, herself, the two Nights next before the Day of the Murder, lay there, in a lower Room, under the King's Chamber. And as she did curiously put off the Shows of Suspicion from herself, so the Execution of the Slaughter she was content to have committed to others.  
About three Days before the King was slain, she practised to set her Brother Robert and him at deadly Enmity; making account, that it should be Gain to her, which soever of them both had perished. For Matter to ground their Dissension, she made Rehearsal of the Speech that the King had had with her concerning her Brother. And when they both so grew in Talk, as the one seemed to charge the other with the Lie, at last they were, in a manner, come from Words, to Blows. But while they were both laying their Hands on their Weapons, the Queen, feigning as though she had been marvellously afraid of that which she so earnestly desired, calleth the Earl of Murray, her other Brother, to the parting; to this intent, that she might either presently bring him in danger to be slain himself, or, in time to come, to bear the Blame of such Mischief as then might have happened. When this Way the Success fell not out as she desired, she devised a new Way to transferr the Suspicion from herself. While the Earl of Murray did willingly keep himself from the Court, and had reasonable Excuse for his Absence, for that his Wife being near her Time, was, besides that, always very sick, at the same time there was an Ambassador come from the Duke of Savoy. This the Queen took for a convenient Colour to send for her Brother: But the true Cause of her sending for him was, that she had a desire to throw the Suspicion of the King's Murder upon him, and upon the Earl Moreton; and therewithal also, at once, to procure the Destruction of those two, being Men acceptable to the Peril, and likewise Adversaries to her Practice, who intended to set up a Tyrannical Government. But God's good Clemency, that had oft before delivered the Earl of Murray from many Treasons of his Enemies, did then also manifestly succour him; for upon the Sunday, which was the 9th Day of February, when he was going to Church, to hear a Sermon, a Letter was brought him, that his Wife was delivered before her Time, and in very small hope of Life. When he, being dismayed at this sudden News, desired leave of the Queen to depart, she answered, That if the Cause were so, it were a superfluous Journey for him to go to her, being not able to do her any Good in her Sickness. But he being still the more importunate, she prayed him, That he would yet tarry but that one Night, and take his Journey the next Day to his Wife. But the Mercy of God now, as at many other times, did deliver that innocent Gentleman from the present Peril, and also took away the Occasion of Slander against him for the time to come. Howbeit, for all this, though there were no Cause of Suspicion, yet he escaped not free from Slander; for Huntley and Bothwel, though they could not justly charge him, yet laboured by infamous Libels, which they spread abroad, to distain him with the most foul Spot of that shameful Act. And whereas the Murder was committed after Midnight, they had, before Day light, caused (by special fore-appointed Messengers) Rumours to be spread in England, that the Earls of Murray and Moreton were Actors of that Slaughter. But that Rumour, so soon as the Light of the Truth once broke forth, suddenly vanished away, as other Falsehoods are commonly wont to do.  
When all things were ready prepared for performing this cruel Fact, and yet all Occasions cut off to divert the Blame thereof, the Partners of the Conspiracy, fearing lest long Delay should either bring some Impement to their Purpose, or disclose their Counsels, determined to dispatch it in all haste. The Queen therefore, for Manner's sake, after Supper, goeth up to the King's Lodging: There, being determined to show him all the Tokens of reconciled Good Will, she spent certain Hours in his Company, with Countenance and Talk much more familiar than she had used in six or seven Months before. At the Coming in of Paris, she broke off her Talk, and prepared to depart. This Paris was a young Man, born in France, and had lived certain Years in the Houses of Bothwel and Seton, and afterward with the Queen. Whereas the other Keys of that Lodging were in custody of the King's Servants, Paris, by feigning certain fond and slender Causes, had in keeping the Keys which Bothwel kept back, of the Back-Gate, and the Postern. He was in special Trust with Bothwel and the Queen, touching their secret Affairs. His Coming (as it was before agreed among them) was a Watchword, that all was ready for the Matter. As soon as the Queen saw him, she rose up immediately; and feigning another Cause to depart, she said, Alas! I have much offended toward Sebastian this Day, that I appeared not in a Mask at his Marriage. This Sebastian was an Arvernois, a Man in great Favour with the Queen, for his Cunning in Music, and his merry Jesting, and was married the same Day. The King thus left, in a manner alone, in a desolate place, the Queen departeth, accompanied with the Earls of Argyle, Huntley and Cassiles, that attended upon her. After that she was come into her Chamber, after Midnight, she was in long Talk with Bothwel, none being present but the Captain of her Guard. And when he also withdrew himself, Bothwel was there left alone, without other Company; and shortly after, retired into his own Chamber. He changed his Apparel, because he would be unknown of such as met him; and put on a loose Cloak, such as the Swartrytters wear; and so went forward, through the Watch, to execute his intended traitorous Fact. The whole Order of the doing thereof may be easily understood by their Confessions, which were put to death for it.  
Bothwel, after the Deed was ended that he went about, returned; and, as if he had been ignorant of all that was done, he got him to bed. The Queen in the mean time, in great Expectation of the Success, how finely she played her part (as she thought) it is marvel to tell; for she not once stirred at the Noise of the Fall of the House, which shook the whole Town; nor at the fearful Out-cries that followed, and confused Cries of the People (for I think there happened to her not any new thing unlooked for) till Bothwel, feigning himself afraid, rose again out of his Bed, and came to her, with the Earls of Argyle, Huntley and Athole; and with the Wives of the Earls of Athole and Murray, and with the Secretary. There, while the monstrous Chance was in telling, while every one wondered at the thing, that the King's Lodging was, even from the very Foundation, blown up into the Air, and the King himself slain. In this Amazedness, and confused Fear of all sorts of Persons, only that same Heroical Heart of the Queen maintained it self so far from casting herself down into base Lamentations and Tears, unbeseeming the Royal Name, Blood and Estate, that she matched, or rather far surmounted all Credit of the Constancy of any in former times. This also proceeded of the same Nobility of Courage, that she set out the greater part of them that were about her, to inquire out the manner of the doing; and commanded the Soldiers that watched, to follow; and she herself settled herself to rest, with a Countenance so quiet, and Mind so untroubled, that she sweetly slept till the next Day at Noon. But lest she should appear void of all Naturalness at the Death of her Husband, by little and little, at length she kept her close, and proclaimed a Mourning, not long to endure.  
The Common People, not certainly knowing whether she laughed or lamented, were divided into sundry Imaginations, sith it was perilous dealing with the disguising of the Court; either in knowing it, to seem to mock it; or in not cunningly dissembling, to seem to know it. While some talked of one sort, some of another, in the mean time, of any Enquiry to be had of the Murder, there was no mention made at all. At length, the Day following, in the Afternoon, when both Shame and Fear constrained them thereto, Bothwel, the principal Doer of the vile Act, with certain others that were privy to the same, assembled together, with the Earl of Argyle, for that he is, by Inheritance, the Justice to deal with Crimes punishable by Death. First, As though they had been utterly ignorant of all that ever was done, they begin to wonder at the strangeness of the matter, such as never was heard of, and incredible. Then they begin a little to be busy about their Enquiry; they sent for a few poor, silly Women, that dwelled thereabout; which poor Souls, standing in doubt, whether it were better for them to tell, or hold their peace, though they daintily tempered their Speech, yet, when they had blabbed out somewhat more than the Judges looked for, they were dismissed again, as Fools that had but indiscreetly prated; for their Testimonies, though they touched some Folks shrewdly, yet they were such as they might easily set light by. Then were called and examined the King's Servants, that were of his Household, such as were left undestroyed by that cruel Chance: They denied that they had the Keys in keeping. Being examined who had them, they said, The Queen. So the Enquiry (for Manners sake) was adjourned, but, indeed suppressed, for fear, lest if they proceeded further, the Secrets of the Court might happen to be disclosed. Yet, lest the Matter should seem not to be regarded, out goeth a Proclamation, with Rewards promised to him that could give Information of it. But who durst accuse the Queen? Or (which was, in a manner, more perilous) Who durst detect Bothwel of such an horrible Offence; especially, when he himself was both Doer, Judge, Enquirer and Examiner? Yet this Fear, which stopped the Mouth of every Man in particular, could not restrain the whole Multitude in general; for both by Books set out, and by Pictures, and by Cries in the dark Night, it was so handled, that the Doers of that mischievous Fact might easily understand, that those Secrets of theirs were come abroad. And when every Man was now out of doubt, who did the Murder, and who gave furtherance unto it, the more that they laboured to keep their own Names undisclosed, so much the more the People's Grudge (being restrained) broke out the more openly. Though they took upon them, as if they regarded not these things, yet sometimes the Rumours so inwardly pricked them to the quick, that they could by no means hide their Anger. Therefore, discontinuing their searching for the King's Death, they begin a new Enquiry, far more earnest, against the Authors of Books, and the Slanders of Bothwel, as they themselves termed them. These Examinations were so rigorously put in Execution, as neither Money nor Labour of Men nor Horses, was spared about it. All the Painters were called together; all that earned their Living by Writing, were assembled, to judge of the Pictures and Books that had been set out. And if any Painter had not, of his own Accord confessed, that it was he of whose Work they enquired, another that was not guilty thereof, but touched a little with a slight Suspicion, had suffered for it. There was published a Proclamation agreeable with the manner of the Inquisition, wherein it was made Death, not only to set out any such Matter; but also to read it, being set out by another. But these Persons, that with threatening of Death practised to stop the Speech of the People; yet not satisfied with the most cruel Murder of the King, ceased not their Hatred against him when he was dead. All his Goods, Armour, Horses, Apparel, and other Furniture of his House, the Queen divided, some to them that slew him, and some to his Father's ancient deadly Foes, as if they had, upon Attainder, come to her by Forfeiture, and his Father's Tenants, as though they had been also Part of her conquered Booty, she so scraped, till she brought them in a manner to extreme Beggary.  
But this was a strange Example of Cruelty, and such as never was heard of before, that as she had satisfied her Heart with his Slaughter; so she would needs feed her Eyes with the Sight of his Body slain. For she long beheld, not only without Grief, but also with greedy Eyes, his dead Corpse, the goodliest Corpse of any Gentleman that ever lived in this Age And then suddenly, without any Funeral Honour, in the Night time, by common Carriers of dead Bodies, upon a vile Bier, she caused him to be buried hard by David Rizo. When these doings were known abroad, and that the Indignation of the People had overcome the threatenings of Penalties, and the Frankness of Sorrow surmounted Fear, by little and little she began to set her Face, and with counterfeiting of Mourning, she laboured to appease the Hearts of the grudging People. For where the ancient manner hath been for Queens, after the Death of their Husbands, by the space of forty Days, not only to forbear the Company of Men; but also from looking on the open Light, she attempted a disguised manner of Mourning. But the Mirth of Heart far passing the feigned Sorrow, she shut the Doors indeed; but she set open the Windows, and within four days she threw away her wailing Weed, and began to behold both Sun and open Sky again. But this one thing fell very overthwartly. For when Henry Killegree was come from the Queen of England to comfort her, as the manner is, this Gentleman Strangers hap was to mar the Play, and unvizor all the disguising. For when he was, by the Queen's Commandment come to the Court, though he being an old Courtier, and a good discreet Gentleman, did nothing hastily; yet he came in so unseasonably, e'er the Stage was prepared and furnished, that he found the Windows open, the Candles not yet lighted, and all the Provision for the Play out of Order. When of the forty Days that are appointed for the Mourning, scarce twelve were yet fully passed, and the counterfeiting would not frame half handsomely, and to disclose her true Affections so soon, she was somewhat ashamed; at length taking Heart of Grace unto her, and neglecting such Trifles, she cometh to her own Bias, and openly showeth her own natural Conditions. She posteth to Seton's House, with a very few, and those not all of the saddest Company. There Bothwel, though it seemed, that for the great Favour he then had in Court, and for the Nobility of his Birth, and other respects of Honour, he should have been, next after the Queen, most honourably received, yet was lodged in a Chamber hard by the Kitchin. Howbeit the same was a Place not altogether unfit to assuage their Sorrows, for it was directly under the Queen's Chamber: And if any sudden qualm of Grief should have happened to come over her Heart, there was a pair of Stairs, though somewhat narrow, yet wide enough for Bothwel to get up to comfort her.  
In the mean time, after the Rumour hereof was spread into France, Mounsieur de Croc, who had often before been Ambassador in Scotland, came in suddenly upon them, God wot full unseasonably. By his Advice she returned to Edinburgh, out of that Den which even as far as France was infamous. But in Seton's House were so many commodious Opportunities for her Purpose, that howsoever her good Name were thereby impaired, needs she must go thither again. There were Counsels holden of the great Affairs of the Realm. The end of the Consultation was, that Bothwel should be arraigned of the Murder, and acquitted by Judges thereto chosen for the Purpose, and constrained. It was concluded, That the meaner sort of the Judges might with Favour and fair Promises be led, and the rest of the greater and graver sort (whom for Fashions Sake they were driven to call to the Matter) might be drawn with Fear to acquit him. For beside Libels thereof commonly thrown abroad; the King's Father the Earl of Lenox did openly accuse Author of the Murder.  
The Assembly of the States in Parliament was at hand, which was to be holden the thirteenth of April, before which Day they would needs have the Arraignment dispatched. That great haste was the Cause, why in that Proceeding and Trial nothing has been done according to the Form of Law, nothing in Order, nothing after the ancient Usage. There aught to have been public Summons of the Accusers, the next of the Kin, the Wife, the Father, and the Son, either to be present themselves, or to send their Proctors. The Law also gave them time of forty Days. But here the Father was commanded to come within thirteen Days, and that without any Assembly of his Friends, with his own Household Retinue only, which by Reason of his great Poverty, was now brought to a few: While in the mean time, Bothwel with great Bands of Men, daily mustered about the Town. And because he verily believed that in so assured Peril, no Man would take upon him to be his Accuser, he grew to such a Negligence, and such Contempt of Law and judicial Proceedings, that the Indictment was framed of a Murder supposed to be done the ninth Day of February, when indeed the King was slain the tenth Day. In choosing and refusing of the Judges, the like Severity was used; for the Murderers themselves made the Choice of the Judges, when there was no Man to take Exception against them. The Earl of Cassiles, willing rather to pay his Amercement, as the manner is, than to be a Judge in the Matter, when he had stood in it a while, and would not appear at the Queen's Request and Menacing; yea, though she sent her Ring for Credit both of her earnest Prayer and Threatening; at length, constrained with Fear of Exile and Punishment, he yielded. There sat the Judges, not chosen to judge, but picked out to acquit: The Cause proceeded without any Adversary. A Trial in a Matter of Life and Death, when there was never an Accuser, but suborned by the Party accused; so as a Man might well think it not the Trial of a Cause in a Court, but the playing of an Interlude upon a Stage.  
In all this fearlesness of all things, yet behold, I pray you, of what force is the Testimony of Conscience on either side: Suddenly, unlooked for, there starteth up a young Man of the Earl of Lenox's House, in whom the Respect of Duty vanquished the Fear of Danger: This young Man made an open Protestation, That the same Assembly of Judges was not lawful, because in their Proceeding, there was nothing done according to Law nor Order. At this Saying, the Judges were all stricken in such a fear, that they all, by and by, with one accord, made Protestation, with proviso, That it should not hereafter be prejudicial to them, in that they acquitted a Prisoner whom no Man accused, and that they had acquitted him of a Murder alleged to be committed the Ninth day of February, when the King was slain the Tenth day. This is that same noble Trial and Judgement, whereby Bothwel was not cleansed of the Crime, but as it were washed with Sowter's Blacking, and so more comely prepared to go a Wooing to wed the Queen, and so to become a Husband to her greater shame, than when he was before an Adulterer. To make up yet the full perfection and increase of this jolly Acquittal, there was set up a Writing in the most notorious Place of the Court, that though Bothwel had by just Trial and Judgement been lawfully cleared and acquitted of the Murder, whereof he had been falsely accused, yet for more manifest declaration of his Innocency to the whole World, he was ready to try it in Combat, if any Man of good Fame, and a Gentleman born, would charge him with the Murder of the King.  
The next day after, there was one that set up a Bill in open place, and offered to accept the Combat, so that there might for the Battle be such a place appointed, wherein the party might safely without fear disclose his Name.  
While Matters and men's Affections were in this stir, the Parliament assembled; there, after they had for eight days together, in manner done nothing but treated of reversing the Judgement, whereby the Earl of Huntley's Father had been attainted of Treason, and for restoring the Son to his Father's Possessions and Honours: There were also certain plausible things granted to please the People, and especially for the Church; namely, the repealing of certain Laws of Popish Tyranny, made for punishing of such as durst once mutter against the Decrees of the See of Rome. Though these things were acceptable among the Commonalty, yet there remained one thing which no less vexed the Queen, than offended the People; that is to say, her companying with Bothwel, not altogether so openly as she would fain have had it; and yet not so secretly, but that the People perceived it; for that all men's eyes were gazing upon them. For whereas Bothwel had a Wife of his own, and to tarry for a Divorce, was thought an overlong delay; and in the mean time, the Queen could neither openly avow to have him, nor secretly enjoy him, and yet in no wise could be without him; some shift, though not an honest one, yet a shift, forsooth, must be devised: And when they could not think upon a better, it seemed to them a marvellous sine invention, god wot, that Bothwel should ravish and take away the Queen by force, and so save her Honour: So within a few days after, as the Queen was returning from Sterline, Bothwel forceably took her by the way, and carried her to Dunbar; whether with her Will, or against her Will, every Man may easily perceive by her own Letters, that she wrote to him by the way, as she was in her Journey. But howsoever it were, that the wrong of the Ravishment might be defaced with honest colour of Marriage, Bothwel's Wife was compelled in two Courts to sue a Divorce against her Husband.  
Before Judges delegate, appointed by the Queen's Authority to have Jurisdiction in such Causes, the Wife accuseth the Husband of Adultery, which with them was a just cause of Divorce, before Popish Judges, who indeed by Law were forbidden, yet by special Dispensation of the Bishop of St. Andrews, were for the hearing of this Cause only permitted; Bothwel was accused, that before his Marriage with his Wife, he had committed Fornication with his Wife's near Kinswoman; howbeit, all this while they kept close the Pope's Bull, by which the same offence was dispensed with. The Divorce was posted forward without any slackness either in the Witnesses, or in the Judges: Within the space of ten days, the matter was taken in hand, began, and intended, joined unto, tried, and judged before both the Companies of Judges: When the Sentence of Divorce was given, and sent to Dunbar, Bothwel by and by assembled together from all parts, all his Friends, his Servants, and Retainers, to convey to Edinburgh the Queen, who would then needs take upon her to be a Prisoner.  
When that they were thus gathered together, the most part of them in Armour, by the way, as they were conducting the Queen, many of them were suddenly stricken in some fear, lest in time to come, they might be charged for holding the Queen as Prisoner; and although there were no other evidence, yet this one thing would be proof enough against them, That in time of Peace they were found about her. While they were in this doubt, in the midst of their Journey, they all threw away their Lances, and in more peaceable array, at least in show, they conveyed her to the Castle of Edinburgh, which Castle was also at that time at Bothwel's Commandment; there she tarried with Bothwel, while the Banes were publishing. Then she came down out of the Castle into the Town, to the common Assembly of the Judges, and there pronounced herself to be free at her own liberty: And so at length, within eight days, she finished that unmatrimonial Matrimony, all good Men so far detesting, or at least grudgingly fore-judging the unlucky end thereof; that Monsieur de Croc, the French King's Ambassador, a Man very well affectioned to the Queen, one of the Faction of the House of Guise, and sojourning very near to the place, though he were earnestly required, yet he thought he could not with his Honour be present at the Feast.  
These things were done about the Twenty fifth of May, in the year of our Lord 1597. The Twenty fifth day of june following, Bothwel being either dismayed with a guilty Conscience of the vile Fact, or sent away by the Queen, she came herself to the Lords of the Realm, who earnestly required the public King-Murderer to be brought forth to due execution. What hath been done since, pertaineth not much to this present matter; and though my Speech have been, perhaps, longer than you looked for, yet I plainly perceive in myself, that while I seek to make an end of my Tale, I have omitted, and many things for haste I have but lightly touched, and nothing have I, according to the heinousness of the Offence, fully expressed.  

An Oration, with a Declaration of the Evidence against MARY the Scottish Queen; wherein is by necessary Arguments plainly proved, That she was guilty and privy of the said Murder.  
SEeing these things are by Writings and Witnesses so probable, and stick so fast imprinted in the knowledge of all the People, that such as would have them most hidden, cannot deny them: What place is here left for cunning, or what need can be of diligence, to prove or reprove a thing so plain and evident? For all things are so clear, so manifest, and so mutually knit together, each part to strengthen other, that there is named of foreign Probations; and all things so fully witnessed, that there is no necessity of other Arguments: For if any will ask me, as in other matters is used to be asked, the Causes of so foul a fact, I might also likewise ask of him, sith the Time, the Place, the Deed, and the Author is sufficiently known, to what purpose is it to stand upon searching the Causes, or to inquire by what Means it was achieved? Again, when there be extent so many Causes of Hatred, and so many Tokens thereof, which do offer themselves to knowledge, as may well be able to bring even things uncertain to be believed, surely so far-fetched an explication of the Act committed, may right well seem superfluous. Nevertheless, forasmuch as so great is the Impudence of the vile Offenders in denying, and so confident the Boldness of impudent Persons in lying, let us assay to see with what Weapons Truth is able to defend Innocency, against those wicked Monsters. If then they demand the cause of so heinous a Deed, I answer, It was unappeasable Hatred. I demand of them again, If they can deny that such Hatred was, or that the same Hatred was so great, as without Blood could not be satisfied? If they deny that such Hatred was, then let them answer me, Why she, a young Woman, Rich, Noble, and finally a Queen, thrust away from her, in a manner, the young Gentleman into exile, he being beautiful, near of her kin, of the Blood Royal, and (that which is greatest) entirely loving her, in the deep of sharp Winter, into places neither fruitful of things necessary, nor replenished with Inhabitants, and commonly perilous being haunted with Thiefs? Why sent she him away into desert and craggy Mountains, without provision, into open perils, and in a manner without any Company? What could she more have done, if she had most deadly hated him, and covenanted to have him dispatched? But I trow she feared no such thing; but that voidness of Fear, I construe to be a note of most obstinate Hatred, especially sith she both knew the places, and was not ignorant of the dangers. That Husband therefore, to whom she was but lately married, against the Liking of her Subjects, against the Will of their Friends on both sides, without whom she could not endure, whom she scarcely durst suffer out of her sight, him, I say, she thrusteth forth to uncertain death, and most certain perils.  
Will ye ask of me the Causes of the change of her Affection? What if I say, I knew them not? It sufficeth for my purpose to prove that she hated him. What if I ask again, why she so extremely loved the young Man whom she never saw before? why she so hastily married him, and so unmeasurable honoured him? Such are the natures of some Women, especially such as cannot brook the Greatness of their own good Fortune: They have vehement Affections both ways; they love with excess, and hate without measure; and to what side soever they bend, they are not governed by advised Reason, but carried by violent Motion. I could, out of the Monuments of Antiquity, rehearse innumerable Examples, but of herself, I had rather believe herself.  
Call to mind that part of her Letters to Bothwel, wherein she maketh herself Medea, that is, a Woman that neither in love nor hatred can keep any mean. I could also allege other Causes of her hatred, although indeed not reasonable Causes, yet such as are able to shove forward, and to push headlong an outrageous Heart, which is not able to govern itself.  
But herein I will forbear: And if herself will suffer me, howsover she hath deserved of her Subjects, yet so much as the common Cause will permit, I will spare her Honour; yea, I will spare it more than the Cause will allow me.  
Therefore I omit her other Causes of Hatred, and return to this, that she hated, and not meanly hated him.  
Will you see also another Proof of her Hatred? The tender Wife, forsooth, so loving and fond of him, when she could not do him the Duty of a Wife, offereth to do him the Service of a Bawd: She made choice of her own Brother's Wife, to put to him in her place.  
What shall we think to be the Cause of this so sudden Change? She that, of late, gapingly sought for every small Breath of Suspicion against her Husband; and where true Causes were not to be found, she invented such as were manifestly false: And this she curiously did, not when she loved him, but when she had begun to hate him: And while she was fishing for Occasions to be divorced from him, even she, I say, of her own accord, offereth him a Lover, declareth her own Contentation therewith, and promiseth her Furtherance.  
What can we imagine to be the Cause hereof? Was it to please her Husband? No, for she hated him: And although she loved him, yet such manner of doing, in a Woman, is uncredible. Was it, that he, knowing himself likewise guilty of Adultery on his part, might the more willingly bear with a Partner in use of his Wife? No, for he bore with all perforce, against his Will. Was it to find Cause of Divorce, and so to drive him to leave his Bed empty for Bothwel? Yea, that was it, indeed, that she sought for; but yet not that alone, for in this Woman you must imagine no single Mischief. She hated the Earl Murray's Wife, even with such Hatred as all unhonest Persons hate the honest. The differences of their two Fames much vexed her; and therewithal also she coveted to set the good Lady's Husband and the King together by the Ears, and so rid herself of two Troubles at once.  
Thus you see how many, and how great things she practised, to dispatch with one Labour: Her Paramour's Enemy, the Bridler of her Licentiousness, and her own hated Husband, she hopeth to rid all at once; while by such sundry sorts of wicked Doings, she maketh haste to her most wicked Wedding.  
To what end tended that fearful hasty Calling for the Earl Murray, at Midnight? Could she not tarry till Daylight? What was the Occasion of so sudden Fear? The good Woman, God wot, careful for the Concord of the Nobility, dearly loving her Brother, and most dearly loving her Husband, was afraid, forsooth, lest her Brother should in the Night have been assaulted by the King, whom she herself had disarmed. Disarmed! said I? Yea, she had disfurnished him of all convenient Company for his Estate, and made him to be shaken up with a Woman's Scolding, and that by one of her own Train; one who was past all Shame, and of prostitute Unchastity.  
She feared much, lest the young Man, destitute of Friends, beset with all sorts of Miseries, should make Assault in the Nighttime. Upon what Person? The Queen's Brother, a Man of great Reputation and Power, and in highest Favour with all Estates. And where should he have assaulted him? In a most strong Castle; whereupon, the Deed being done, neither was Way for him to slay, nor Means of Refuge to the Queen's Mercy. For what Cause should he assail him? There was no Enmity between them, but such as she had sowed. What say you, if she coveted that thing most, which she most feigned herself to fear? For, to what purpose else sent she for her Brother, to come to her in the Nighttime, unarmed? Why did she not advise him of this one thing, at least; that because he was to pass by, and hard by the King's Door, he should, in any wise, put on his Armour? Why did she not, either fore-warn him of the Danger, or defer the Calling of him till the next Morning? No, no; she had a more subtle Purpose in hand. She had but newly sent the King, inflamed (as she hoped) with Hatred of the Earl Murray: So thought she it not unlikely, but that the King, kindled with fresh Displeasure, rash by Fervour of Youth, lightly believing her by Excess of Love, would have adventured to slay his supposed Enemy, naked, unaccompanied and unarmed. So sent she the King, raging in Anger, to commit the Slaughter; and practised to draw the Earl Murray naked, unaccompanied, unwarned, to be suddenly trapped in Treason. This was her Meaning, this was her Desire; but wicked Counsels, how subtle soever they be, are not always prosperous.  
What meant this, that after her Deliverance of Child, at which time other Women do chiefly comfort themselves in the Lovingness of their Husbands; and confess, that they find some Ease of Pain by sight of them; she, at the same time, driveth her Husband away? What else shall we say she meant thereby, but, as the Poet saith, for pure Love, God wot, she shut him out of Doors: But this tender Creature, that either shutteth out her Husband, or, as soon as he is come, chaseth him away again; whose Stomach turned at the sight of him, who is suddenly taken with Pangs at his presence; when she was in the Pinnace, amongst Pirates and Thiefs, she could abide at the Poop, and be content to handle the boisterous Cables. Now ask I whom she loved, and whom she hated? For that, at Aloe, she drove away the cumbersome Interrupter of her Pastime; that again, when he came to her at Edinburgh, she rejected him, I blame her not. I am content to believe, she did it not for Hate to her Husband, but for her Fancy's sake. That again, at jedworth, she suffered him not to come at her, let it be born withal; for, not without Cause, she feared, lest the force of her Sickness would increase at sight of him, whose Death she so earnestly desired. That she gave special Commandment, that no Man should lodge him, no Man should relieve him with Meat or Drink, that she, in a manner, forbade him the use of Fire and Water: This is, undoubtedly, a Token of outrageous Hatred: But it seemeth, she feared the very Infection of her Husband, if he were in any place near her. That she sent him back, from Cragmillar, to Sterline, I complain not; but that she bereft him of all his Necessaries, that she took him from his Servants, that she abated the Allowance of his Expenses, that she alienated the Nobility from him, that she forbade Strangers the Sight of him, and (as much as in her lay) took from him, even while he lived, the Use of Heaven, Earth and Air; this, I say, I know not what to call it; Unnaturalness, Hatred, barbarous Fierceness, or outrageous Cruelty! That when he went from Sterline, she took away all his Plate, let it be pardoned; for what need had he of Silver, that carried with him present Death in his Bosom? But this I beseech you to consider; what great Indignation of all Men it hath kindled, that when the King, poor Soul, made hard shift to live in Desolation, Sorrow and Beggary; whilst that Bothwel, like an Ape in Purple, was triumphantly showed to the Ambassadors of Foreign Nations; even that same Partner of her Husband's Bed, not so much for the Love of himself, as for Despite of her Husband, was carried abroad, set out with all kind of Ornaments; even that adulterous Partner, I say, that neither in Birth, nor in Beauty, nor in any honest Quality, was in any wise comparable with her disdained Husband. Now let them deny that here were Tokens of Hatred.  
But how great, and how unappeasable this Hatred was, even by this ye may gather: Her Husband so oft shut out, so oft sent away with Despite, driven to extreme Poverty, banished into a desolate Corner, far from the Court, far from the Presence of Men, spoiled of his Servants and Household-furniture, bereft, in a manner, of his daily necessary Sustenance; yet by no Injuries can be shaken from her, by no fear of Death can be withdrawn; but with Serviceableness and Patience he assayeth, if not to overcome, yet, at least, somewhat to assuage the violent Cruelty of her unkind Courage. In the mean time, what doth this good, gentle Wife, this merciful Queen, that is, at the beholding of Men's Miseries, so kind and pitiful? Neither is she once moved with the loving Doings, nor with the wretched Plight, nor with the miserable Wofulness of her Husband, nor appeased by Time, nor satisfied with Torments; but rather, with his Serviceableness she is irritated, with his humble Prayers she is more inflamed, and at every time of his Coming she deviseth some new Increase of spiteful Dishonour; wherein, when she had spent the uttermost of all her Force, Wit, and Bitterness of Nature; when she saw the poor young Gentleman, neither to give over by fainting, being oppressed with Poverty; and though he were despised of all Men, and so often thrown into open Perils, neither to despair, nor otherwise, more cruelly, to make away himself; at length, as it were glutted with the sight of his Miseries and Torments, she determined presently to rid him of his Calamities, herself of Irksomeness, and her Adulterer from Fear; and so by certain special Persons thereto appointed, she caused him to be poisoned, that being absent from her, he might so die with less Suspicion. But of the Poison I will say more in another Place.  
When this Practice framed not fully to her Desire, she goeth herself to Glascow, that whom being absent she could not kill, she might herself in Presence satisfy both her cruel Heart, and her Eyes with sight of his present Miseries. And as if herself alone were not sufficient to execute the cruel tormenting of him, she bringeth into his Sight Ministers of her heinous doings, and his ancient natural Enemies, and with these Outrages travailed to vex his Soul at his last Breath. But wherefore gather we Arguments, as in a doubtful Case, when she herself will not suffer us to doubt at all? She, the Queen herself, I say, openly protested, not to her Lover in Bed, not amongst her Confederates in secret Chambers, nor before few and mean Persons of Estate, apt to Flattery, constrained by Poverty, or of Purpose affectioned; she herself, I say, openly confessed, That she could not live one good Day, if she were not rid of the King, and that not once, nor unadvisedly; but in Presence of those Personages, whom she used to call to Council in the weightiest Affairs. For it cannot be said unadvisedly slipped from her, that was so oft spoken, in so many, so far distant Places, with Tears always added, to move Credit, before Men notable, both for their Nobility, Weath, and Wisdom, and wherein she declared her own Opinion, practised to win their Assent, and harkened for their Advices. But be it that she forged all these things, be it that her Tears were feigned, let them not believe it that heard it; let the greatness of the Outrage make the Report uncredible. I myself also would gladly be one of that Number, to think these things uttered by her, rather to groap the Minds of others, than that she herself so thought in her Heart, if it were not so, that the thing itself confirmeth the Report, that the Outrageousness of the doings far surmounteth all Bitterness of Utterance.  
When he was preparing to depart from Glascow, she caused Poison to be given him. You will ask, by whom? In what Manner? What kind of Poisons? Where had she it? Ask you these Questions? As though wicked Princes ever wanted Ministers of their wicked Treacheries. But still you press me perhaps, and still you ask me who be these Ministers? First, that poisoned he was, it is certainly known: For though the Shamelesness of Men would not stick to deny a thing so manifest; yet the kind of Disease, strange, unknown to the People, unacquainted with Physicians, especially such as had not been in Italy and Spain, black Pimples breaking out over all his Body, grievous Aches in all his Limbs, and intolerable stink disclosed it. If this Cause were to be pleaded before grave Cato the Censor, all this were éasie for us to prove before him that was persuaded, that there is no Adulteress, but the same is also a Poisoner. Need we seek for a more substantial Witness than Cato, every of whose Sentences Antiquity esteemed as so many Oracles. Shall we not in a manifest thing believe him whose Credit hath in things doubtful so oft prevailed? Lo here a Man of singular Uprightness, and of most notable Faithfulness and Credit, beareth Witness against a Woman burning in Hatred of her Husband, and in Love with an Adulterer, and in both these Diseases of corrupt Affections unbridled, untemperable by her Estate, raging by her Power, and indulgently following the Wantonness of her Wealth. But let us omit old and discussed things, and let us sever the Credit of inconstant Multitudes from the case of Princes. Let us in so great a matter admit no Witness, in whom either his Estate may be suspected, or his Manners may be blamed. What Witnesses then shall we use? For by this Condition, we may bring forth none under the Royal Degree of a King or a Queen.  
But such vile Acts are not wont to be committed by Noble and good Men, but by lewd and wicked Ministers. Howbeit that herein also the most precise may be satisfied, go to, let us bring forth a Royal Witness. Read her own Letter; her Letter (I say) written with her own Hand. What mean these Words? He is not much deformed, and yet he hath received much. Whereof hath he received much? The thing itself, the Disease, the Pimples, the Savour do tell you. Even that much he received, that brought Deformity, Forsooth, very Poison. But her Letters name not Poison. This is sufficient for me, that it is there said, that though he received much, he is not much deformed, or, though he be not much deformed, yet he received much. What meaneth this Word yet? What else but this, That whatsoever it was that he received, the same was the Cause of his Deformity, which though it were much, yet was it not so much as to work such Deformity as was desired. But be it, it were not Poison, What then was it else? You can find nothing that can with Convenience of Reason be named in Place of it. Finally, whatsoever it be that is meant by this Word much, it is such, as she herself, in so secret and familiar a Letter, dare not call by the right Name. Yea, and though we would shift it off by cavillous Expounding; yet she herself will not suffer us. Compare that which went before with that which followeth, and by her Device and Purpose for time to come, ye shall easily understand, what it is that she hath done in time past. First, she saith, it is needful, that he be purged; then she determineth to carry him to Cragmillar, where both the Physicians, and (which is more dangerous than any Physician) she herself may be present. Finally, she asketh Council of Bothwel, whether he can devise any secreter way by Medicine, than that at Cragmillar, and after a Bath. See how all things hang together. He hath received much, he must be purged, and at Cragmillar; that is, in a desolate Corner, in a Place, by Reason of small Resort, very apt for a Mischief to be committed. And Medicine he must use, and what, forsooth? Even the same whereof he had before received much. How shall that appear? She will have the manner of ministering the Medicine to be secret. If it be to heal him, what needs that Secrecy? Why is it not administered openly, in a known and Populous Place? Now he is eased of his Sickness, lusty and healthy, why is he purged in an unusual manner, and in an uninhabited Corner? But perhaps it was a strange kind of Disease, it had need of strange Remedies. What Physicians then called she to Counsel? To whom is this Charge committed to seek out a new Medicine and curing for the King? Forsooth, to the King's Enemy, to the Queen's Adulterer, the vilest of all twofooted Beasts, whose House was in France defamed for poisoning, and whose Servants were there for the same Cause, some tortured, some imprisoned, and all suspected. When was he appointed to receive this Noble Medicine? Either at his Bathing, where he should wash alone, or after his Bathing, where he should sup alone. So, forsooth, are Medicines accustomed to be provided by Enemies, in a secret Place, without Witnesses. That therefore while an Adulterer, an Adulteress, and the Partner of his Wife's Body, curiously prepareth, and secretly ministereth; what Medicine this is, let every Man with himself weigh and consider. By this time, I suppose, you see the Hatred of the Queen, how unappeasable, how outrageously cruel, how obstinate it was against her Husband, whom she thrust among Thiefs, whom she practised to match in Feud and Battle with the Nobility and with her Brethren, who were both naked and poor, laden with Despites, vexed with Rail, assailed with Poison, she drove him away into a solitary Corner, there to die with the extremest Torment. Now let us proceed to the other Causes.  
This Hatred itself was of itself sufficient to prick her forward to her Enemy's Slaughter, often sought, once attempted, and almost achieved. Yet was there besides, a stronger Enforcement, itself able to inflame her Hatred, I mean the Love wherewith she intemperately fancied Bothwel: Which Love, whosoever saw not, and yet hath seen him, will perhaps think it incredible. For what was there in him, that was of a Woman of any honest Countenance to be desired? Was there any Gift of Eloquence? Or Grace of Beauty? Or Virtue of Mind, garnished with the Benefits, which we call, of Fortune? As for his Eloquence and Beauty, we need not say much, sith they that have seen him can well remember both his Countenance, his Gate, and the whole Form of his Body how gay it was: They that have heard him, are not ignorant of his rude Utterance and Blockishness. But you will say, he was in executing Attempts, wise and politic; in adventuring of Perils, hardy and valiant, in free giving, liberal; in use of Pleasures, temperate. For Wisdom, even they that be most affectionate unto him, dare not charge him with it. Of Valiantness indeed he laboured to win some Estimation; but among Horsemen, on a swift Steed well mounted, well provided for his own safety, a Beholder of other Men's Fight, sometime hardly chase them that fled, but his Face toward him near at Hand, he never durst abide. Will ye have an Example of his excellent Valiantness? Of a Thief, a notable Coward, whom being yielded, and unawares he had deadly wounded, he was thrown down to the Ground, hurt, bruised with dry Strokes, and had been quite slain; if the poor Thief's Strength, being ready to die, had not failed him. I could rehearse his glorious, vain Braggeries in France, I could tell of his last fearful Flight as far as to Denmark. But I had rather rub up the Remembrance of that Day, when the Queen forsaking him, came to the Nobility that protested to revenge the Slaughter of the King. The Armies stood ready in Array, Bothwel in Number of Men was equal, in Place had the Advantage: There stood before him, to be his Reward being Vanquisher, a Queen much fancying, and entirely loving him; a Kingdom, Wealth, and Honour, for him, and his Posterity; moreover, Impunity for his Offences past, extreme Liberty to do what he list for time to come; Ability to advance his Friends, and be revenged of his Enemies; and on the other side, if he were vanquished, Dishonour, Poverty, and Banishment; Finally, all things, that thereafter happened or hereafter may happen, were then before his Eyes. There were also present beside the two Armies, Beholders and Witnesses of each Man's Valiantness and Cowardice, the Queen, the Price of the Battle, and Mounsteur de Croc, the Ambassador of France. Now you look to hear how this Magnifical Boaster of Valiantness did acquit himself. First, being mounted upon an excellent Horse, he came bravely forth before the Army. There the Man, forsooth, very sparing of his countrymen's Blood and lavish of his own, calleth for one to try it with him by Combat, Man to Man. And when there were many on the other side of honourable Birth and Estates, that offered to accept the Combat, by and by, his violent Heat cooled, and his glorious Speech quailed: and had it not been that the Queen, as it were some God, out of a Gin in a Tragedy, had by her Authority taken up the Matter, and forbidden her pretty venereous Pigeon to give Battle, he had failed to find, not only a mean, but also an honest Colour to refuse to fight. And so the Combat was interrupted; yet in the joined Battle, he behaved himself so valiantly, forsooth, the first Man, almost at the Beginning, and alone, he ran his way, and so at length drew the rest of his Part to slay after him.  
But for his Defaults in Martial Feats, perhaps the Man was supplied with Civil Virtues: Alas! what were they? or what Virtues could be looked for in him? A Man for the most part brought up in the Bishop Murray's Palace, to wit, a most wicked corrupt House, in Drunkenness and Whoredoms, amongst most vile Ministers of dissolute misorder. After that he was grown towards Man's estate, at Dice and among Harlots, he so wasted a most goodly large Revenue of his Inheritance, that (as the Poet saith) At his need he had not left wherewith to buy him a Halter to hang himself. He, I say, that defiled not only other men's Houses with Cuckoldry, but also his own with incestuous Villainy.  
This Man therefore, when I say to have been beloved of the Queen, and not only loved, but also outrageously and intemperately loved; they that know it not, will peradventure think that I tell wonders. But some Men perhaps will say, Was there none other in all the Troop of the Youth of Nobility beside him, more worthy to be beloved? Certainly there were very many: And one there was, in all things that were wont to allure Love, of all other most excellent, even her own Husband. What was it then that joined so unequal Love, and so far against Reason? If I shall say it was likeness of Conditions, I shall name a likely cause of Love, though to some Men perchance, it may seem an untrue cause of their Love; neither am I willing to enter into that Discourse; neither do I affirm the Rumours spread of her in France, in time of her first Marriage; howbeit, the Wickednesses of the rest of her Life, make some proof that they rose not all of nothing; and many things that have been noised of her since her return into Scotland, I have no mind to believe; as for my part I am content they be buried in forgetfulness, or if that cannot be, let them be taken for false and feigned: Neither is it necessary over curiously to examine Causes in Love, which is usually so carried with a rash violent motion of a muddy and troubled Mind, that for the most part it endeth in madness; which if ye labour to govern by discreet Advice, ye do nothing else but as if ye should endeavour to be mad with Reason. But yet here there want no Causes, for there was in them both a Likeness, if not of Beauty, nor outward things, nor of Virtues, yet of most extreme Vices. She a young Woman, suddenly advanced to the highest Degree of Authority, when she had never seen with her Eyes, heard with her Ears, nor considered in her Heart the form of a Kingdom governed by Law, and thereto was furnished with the untemperate Counsels of her Kinsmen, who themselves practised to set up a Tyrannous Rule in France, endeavoured to draw Right, Equity, Laws, and Customs of Ancestors to her only beck and pleasure.  
Of this immoderate desire, there burst out from her many times, many words disclosing it; this she studied day and night. But against this Desire, there withstood the Custom of the Country, the Laws and Statutes, and principally the Consent of the Nobility, who remaining safe, she could never attain it. To the end therefore that she might be able violently to achieve it, she determined by force to remove all that stood in her way; but she wist not well by what means or by whose help to attempt it.  
Fraud was the way to work it, for otherwise it was not possible to be obtained: For this purpose therefore Bothwel only seemed the fittest Man, a Man in extreme poverty, doubtful whether he were more vile or wicked; and who between factions of sundry Religions, despising both sides, counterfeited a love of them both: He, when he had once before offered the Hamilton's his service to murder the Earl Murray, gave thereby a likelihood, that upon hope of greater gain, he would not stick to adventure some greater Enterprise, being one whom the Ruin of his own decayed Family, pricked forward headlong to mischief, and whom no respect of Godliness or Honesty restrained from ungracious Actions. As for excessive and immoderate use of Lechery, be therein no less sought to be famous, than other Men do shun Dishonour and Infamy. She therefore, a Woman greedily coveting untempered Authority, who esteemed the Laws her Prison, and the Bridle of Justice her Bondage, when she saw in her Husband not mettle enough to trouble the State, she picked out a Man for her purpose, who neither had Wealth to lose, nor Fame to be stained, even such an one as she might easily overthrow again, if she should once grow weary of him; such a one as she might easily snare his Incontinence, with wanton Allurements, satisfy his need with Money, and bind his Assuredness to her with a guilty Conscience and Confederate in Mischiefs: These be the Fountains of that same, not unmeasurable, but mad Love, in famous Adultery, and vile Parricide, wherewith, as with a Pledge, that bloody Marriage was plighted. These therefore were the causes of enterprizing that heinous Act, to wit, unappeasable Hatred of her Husband, and intemperate Love of her Adulterer. There was moreover a hope, that the Crime might be diverted from them to other, and the execution for it might be laid upon the poor Lives of their Enemies, and that Men most guiltless of the fault, might be thrust in their place, as Sacrifices to appease the People's displeasure; if not, to what end then served that Battle, which was almost begun to be fought between the King and the Lord Robert her Brother? To what end tended those Seeds of Discord that were scattered between the King and the Nobility? Wherefore did she so curiously entreat the Earl Murray to stay with her the day before the Murder was committed? or what cause was there to send for him? There was an Ambassador come out of Savoy; For what cause? surely it must needs be a great Cause, and such as could not be ended without the assembly of the Nobility: no, god wot; the Ambassador of Savoy being bidden too late to the Christening, came when all was ended, not for Ambassador to the Christening, but as one sent to excuse the neglecting of doing that Kindness, when both he liked not to send so far for so small a matter; and he was somewhat ashamed to have failed in presence, when the Frenchmen and Englishmen had already done it. For the more honourable dismissing of him, the Earl Murray was sent for, and that with sundry Messengers, to come from his Wife that lay a dying: What need was there then of his presence? To draw him to be a party in Conspiracy of the Slaughter? Why, was it never attempted before? Thought they it best at the last point, at the very instant when the Murder should be committed, to join him to their Fellowship, as a light Man, inconstant, and shifting his Purposes at every moment of time; infamous in his former Life, and not well assured in his present Estate? No, there is none of these things that they yet dare say of him. Seeing then they cannot imagine a false Cause to stay him, what was the true cause indeed, every Man may easily gather; even the same that caused first the Earl of Athole, and afterwards him to depart from the Court; the same that so brought him in danger of Death; the same that had slandered him with false Rumours scattered in England; the same that persecuted him with infamous Libels of the Murderers themselves; the same that made him to choose rather to go into Banishment, than to remain in Court among Ruffians Weapons, with great peril of his Life.  
But what availeth this Equity of the Cause before Hearers, either utterly ignorant of the matter how it was done, or of themselves disfavouring this part, are envious, or apt to be carried away with feigned Rumours, which esteem the Slanders of most lewd light Persons, for true Testimonies, and give credit to these Men, who boasting, at home, that they are able to do what they list, yet neither dare commit their Cause to the Sentence of the Judges, nor were able to defend themselves in Battle: And as by a guilty Conscience of Offences they feared Judgement, so by Rage, grown of their Guiltiness, they run headlong to Battle, and from Battle run cowardly away: And now again, when standing upon the Advantage that they have both in number and wealth, they scorn the Wisdom of their Adversaries, and despise their Power in comparison of their own; yet distrusting to prevail by true Manhood, they fall to Robbery, and turn their ungracious Minds to Slandering, Cavilling, and Lying, whom but yet for the good will that I bear to my Countrymen, I would advise to cease from this folly, or fury, or disease of evil speaking, lest in time to come, when Truth shall shine out, they shut up and stop with hatred of them those Persons Ears to their Petitions, whom now they fill and load with false Rumours, for there will not always be place for forgiveness, but as Darkness at the Sun shining, so Lies at the Light of Truth must vanish away.  
As for the commodious means for committing that vile fact, and the hope of hiding it, I need not to pursue the declaring of them in many words, sith both the easiness to do it, the opportunities of places, and all advancements of occasions and seasons were in their own power: And to hide the Fact, what needed they, when they feared no punishment although it were published? For what Punishment could they fear in so strong a Conspiracy, when both the force of Laws, whereof themselves were Governors, was utterly extinguished, and the Minds of the most part of Men were either snared with partnership of the mischievous Fact, or carried with Hope, or Forestalled with Rewards, or discouraged and bridled with Fear of so great a Power on the other part? But how soever this be, yet it will be good to see throughly both the order of the doing, the unadvisedness, inconstancy, and end of their Devices: For thereby shall ye perceive, that there wanted not desire to hide the Fact, but that the fury of a distracted Mind, overthrew all the Order of their Counsels,; while sometime, as desirous to beguile public Fame, they endeavoured to keep close their intended Mischief, yet they dealt therein so openly, as careless of their Estimation; they seemed to make small account how Men judged of their Doings: For at his preparing to go to Glascow, the Poison was given him secretly, and they thought they had sufficiently well provided that he should in his absence from them, be consumed with pining sickness: But the rest of their Dealings toward him, were so cruelly handled, that though his Disease should have happened to be natural, yet it would have been suspected for poisoning: For he her Husband, the Father of her only and firstborn Child; the Father, I say, of that Son, whose Christening was solemnised with that great Pomp and Glory, being escaped away, in a manner, naked out of his House flaming in fire, tormented by the way with grievous pain, when he lay at Glascow, of a dangerous sickness, likely to die: What did his excellent good Wife the while? What did she? At the first news of it, did she haste to him in post? Doth she with her Presence, with her friendly familiar Speech, or with her loving Countenance comfort him in sickness? When she cannot stay him in Life, cometh she to receive his last Breath? Closeth she his Eyes at his dying? Doth she the other kind Duties of honest Matrons? No: But she that had now let him escape, to go and die, and hoped that he could not linger out his unhappy Life much longer, she goeth a quite contrary way, into another Country, in progress; and, with her fair Adonis, she visiteth Nobleman's Houses, and staineth the Houses that harboured them, with the Spots of their Unchastities; and just about the time of her Husband's Death (as she guessed by the strength and working of the Poison) she returns to Sterline. When the Matter wrought not so fast as she expected, for the Strength of his Youth had wrestled with the Soreness of his Pain, lest she should seem to have altogether forsaken her Duty, she daily prepares to go to Glascow, but never goeth. At the last, disappointed of the Hope that she had conceived in her Heart, she taketh herself to other Devices. She cometh to Edinburgh, and there calleth to Counsel her Adulterer, and a few other, privy of those Secrets: There they decree, that in any wise the King must be slain; yet were they not fully advised, with what kind of Death he should be murdered; which may easily be gathered by her Letter, wherein she partly compareth herself to Medea, a bloody Woman, and a poisoning Witch: Also by another of her Letters, wherein she asketh Advice about the Poisoning of him. The King, who had already tasted of her lovely Cup, doubting whether he were better any more to believe her flattering Speeches or to fear the shrewdness of her Nature; though sometimes he despaired not of her Reconciliation, yet was evermore fearful and suspicious; but when he saw that neither his Life nor his Death were in his Power, he was constrained to purse up his passed Injuries, to dissemble his present Fear, and to feign himself some Hopes for time to come. So was he led out, not as a Husband, but carried out as a Coarse; or rather, drawn, as it were, to the Shambles. The Queen, gloriously showing herself in pompous manner, goeth before, in Triumph over the young Gentleman, vexed with all kind of Miseries, tormented with Poison, entrapped with Treasons, and drawn to Execution. There follows after the triumphant Carr, the ancient Enemies to his Father's House, brought thither on purpose, that they also might feed their Eyes with that woeful Spectacle; and whose Death, at hand, they looked for, they might in the mean time take pleasure of the Sorrow of his Heart. And that no Ceremony of solemn Sacrifices might be wanting, john Hamilton Archbishop of St. Andrews, was present, as their Priest; a Man before defiled with all kind of Wickedness, pampered with the Spoils and Murders of his Countrymen, an old Conqueror of many murdering Victories. The People, all along the Way, looking piteous, showed a Foretelling of no good Luck to come: The Queen's Companions could neither tell their Sadness, nor hide their Gladness, when the heinous Outrage of the vile Fact intended held their unmeasurable Joy in suspense, upon expectation of the Success. Thus led they him to Edinburgh, not into the Queen's Palace. Why so? Lest the Infection of the pestilent Disease, forsooth, might hurt her young Son: As though they that be poisoned, were also to be shunned, for fear of Infection. But the truer Cause was this, lest his Presence should trouble them, in interrupting their free enjoying their Pleasures, and their Consultations about his Murder. Whither then is he led? Into the most desolate part of the Town, some time inhabited, while the Popish Priest's Kingdom lasted; but for certain Years past, without any Dweller; in such an House as, of itself, would have fallen down, if it had not been botched up for the time, to serve the turn of this Night's Sacrifice. Why was this place chiefly chosen? They pretended the wholsomness of the Air. O good God Going about to murder her Husband, seeketh she for a wholesome Air? To what use? Not to preserve his Life, but to reserve his Body to Torment. Here to tend her wisely diligent Attendance, and her last Care of her Husband's Life, she feareth lest he should, by Preventing Death, be delivered from pain; she would fain have him feel himself die. But let us see what manner of wholsomness of Air it is▪ Is it among dead Men's Graves, to seek the preserving of Life? For hard by there were the Ruins of two Churches; on the East side, a Monastery of Dominick Friars; on the West, a Church of our Lady; which, for the desolateness of the place, is called, The Church in the Field; on the Southside, the Town-Wall, and in the same, for commodious passage every way, is a Postern door; on the North side are a few Beggar's Cottages, ready to fall, which some time served for Stews for certain Priests and Monks; the name of which place doth plainly disclose the form and nature thereof, for it is commonly called Thiefs Lane. There is never another House near, but the Hamilton's House, which is about a Stone's cast distant; and that also stood void. Thither removeth the Archbishop of St. Andrews, who always before was used to lodge in the most populous parts of the Town: He also watched all that Night that the King was slain. Now I beseech you, sith you cannot with your Eyes, yet, at least, with your Minds, behold an House, lately of old Priests, among Graves, between the Ruins of two Temples; itself also ruinous, near to the Thiefs haunt, and itself a Receiver of Thiefs; not far from the Fort and Garrison of his Enemies, that stood right over against the Door; by which, if any Man should flee out, he could not escape their traitorous Ambushment. The very shape of this place, when you consider it in your Mind, when you hear of the Ruins of Churches, Graves of dead Men, lurking Corners of Thiefs, Brothel-houses of Harlots; doth not, I say, not the House only, but also every part near about it, seem to proclaim Mischief and Treachery? Seemeth here a King to have gone into an House for Lodging, or to be thrust into a Den of Thiefs? Was not that desolate Wasteness, that uninhabited place, able of itself to put simple Men in fear, to make wiser Men suspicious, and to give wicked Men shrewd Occasions? What meant his Enemies unwonted Repair into those Parts, and watching all Night, in a manner, hard at his Gate? Why chose he now this place for his Lodging, against his former usage? The House, ye will say, was empty, and his Brother's House, and near to the King's Lodging. It was empty long before; Why lodged you never there before? Why forsook you the populous places in the Heart of the City, and nearness to the Court; and thrust yourself into a desolate Corner? What Profit, what Commodity, what Pleasure herein respect you? Was it your meaning, that you being one that ever had been a greedy Coveter of popular Fame, and Catcher of Courtiers with Baits of good Cheer, now would, of your own accord, go hide yourself in a blind Hole, out of all Company and Resort? That you, rather overwhelmed than laden with plenty of Benefices, went thither to delight your Heart in the Ruin of Temples? But be it that your coming thither was but by Chance, and that you had some Causes to go thither; though not true, yet somewhat likely.  
What meant your unwonted watching all Night? What meant the fearful murmuring of your Servants that Night, whom yet, in that public Tumult, you commanded, not once to stir out of Doors? But what Cause had they to go out? Was it to have Understanding of the Matter, whereof yourself were an Author and Deviser? No; for, out of your own Watch-Tower, you heard with your Ears the Noise of the Ruin; you saw the Smoke and Ashes with your Eyes, you drunk up the Joy thereof in your Heart, and the Savour, or the Gunpowder, you, in a manner, snuffed up at your Nose. Perhaps you meant to send out some to receive them that fled; but you saw no Man flee; and therefore the Lights that were seen out of the highest part of your House, all the Night long, were, as upon the lucky ending of the thing that you looked for, even then suddenly put out.  
But let us return to the King. They thought it not enough to have set open the Postern in the Wall, to let in Thiefs thereat; nor to have set an Ambush before the Door, that none should escape; but also they kept with themselves the Keys of two Doors; the one of the lower Room, where they had undermined the Wall, and filled the holes with Gunpowder; and the other of the upper Room, that the Murderers might come to the King, in his Bed: Then of those few Servants that he had, they withdrew the greater number, being such as were before set about him; not so much to do him Service, as to be Spies of his Secrets, and carry News to the Queen. The last that was left, one Alexander Durain, when he could find no reasonable Excuse to depart, was thrust out by the Queen herself: She, in the mean time, meaning not to fail in playing her part, while Bothwel is in preparing the tragical Stage for the Murder, daily visiteth the King. His Heart, passioned with Love, sometimes she comforteth with sweet Promises, sometimes she vexeth with Brawling, and still keepeth his Wit occupied with Suspicions, and rightly representeth in Action, the Poet's Fable; wherein is feigned, that Prometheus' Liver, daily growing to invent new Torments, is daily knawn and preyed upon by an Eagle: For, after the very same manner, sometimes she cherisheth and refresheth the silly young Gentleman, to no other End, but that he may have Life remaining, to suffer more Sorrows.  
Now, I beseech you every one, think with yourselves, upon the fresh doing of the Fact, how Men's Hearts were moved; when, even now, these things cannot be heard reported, without Indignation. There was provided by the most wicked Man in the World, by his Enemy, by his Wife's Adulterer, an House, in a manner, severed from all Concourse of People; fitter for a Slaughter-house, than for Man's Dwelling: It is provided for a young Gentleman, unprovident by Youth, easy to be trapped in Treason by Love, spoiled of his Servants, forsaken of his Friends: An House (I say) torn, solitary on every side; not also unclose, but open to pass through, the Keys thereof in his Enemy's Custody, no Man left within but a young Man not yet recovered of Sickness, and an old Man feeble by Age, and two Strangers unacquainted with the Places, Matter and Persons; no Man dwelling near, but his Enemies and Thiefs. But as for danger of Thiefs, the good forecasting Woman had well provided; for she had left him nothing to allure a Thief withal: And as for his Enemies, she had appointed them to be but Looker's on, and not Part-players in this Tragedy; but the Glory of the Fact she reserved to herself and Bothwel.  
What, in the mean time, doth the Queen's great Carefulness? What meaneth her unwonted Resort? What her malicious, and not obsequious Diligence? She visiteth him daily, she prolongeth her Talk with him many Hours together, two Nights she resteth in a lower Chamber under him (if guilty Conscience of most heinous Doings can, from Torments of Furies, suffer that outrageous Heart to rest at all.) She feared much, lest, if the lower place of the House were left empty, the noise of the Underminers working, and of the Bringers in of the Powder, should bring some of the Servants into some suspicion of Treachery. Beside, she had a mind to see the thing done herself, rather than to commit it to the Trust of any other. She had a desire to take a Foretaste of the Joy to come; and when she could not with her Ears, yet, at least with her Heart, to conceive aforehand the Fire, the Smoke, the Powder, the Crack of the House falling, the fearful Trouble, the Tumult, the confused Dismayedness of the Doers, the Thiefs, and the People. All things thus prepared for that doleful Night, then entereth she into the last Care of her good Fame: she endeavoureth to divert all Suspicions from her, she goeth to her Husband, she kisseth him, she giveth him a Ring for Pledge of her Love, she talketh with him more lovingly than she was wont to do, and promiseth more largely, she feigneth that she had great Care of his Health, and yet her companying whither Adulterer she surceaseth not.  
They that more nearly noted these things, prognosticated no good thing to come. For how much the greater Tokens that the Queen showed of reconciled Affection, so much the more Cruelty did every Man in his Heart fore conceive of all her Intentions. For else whence cometh that sudden Change, so great Care for him, whom she had poisoned the Month before, whom even lately she not only wished dead, but desired to see him die, whose Death she set her Brother, yea, both her Brethren to procure; and she, like a Master of Mischief, thrust forth the King to fight, and herself in the mean time prepared for his Burial? Not past a few Months before, she herself was desirous to die, because she loathed to see the King alive. Whence cometh now this sudden Care of his Health? I looked she should say, she was reconciled to him. Were you reconciled to your Husband, whom you sent away into that Desert, that Camp of Furies, as the Poet calleth it? For whom, among Brothel houses of Harlots, among Beggar's Cottages, among Thiefs lurking-holes, you prepared a House so open to pass through, that you left therein more Entries than Men to shut them? you that alured and assembled Russians to his Slaughter, and Thiefs to his Spoil? You that drove away his Servants that should have defended his Life? You that thrust him out naked, alone, unarmed, among Thiefs, in danger to be slain? When in all this miserable State of your Husband, your Adulterer in the mean time dwelled in your Palace, daily haunted your Chamber, Day and Night all Doors were open for him, whilst your poor Husband, debarred all Company of the Nobility, his Servants forbidden to come at him, or sent away from him, was forsaken and thrust away into a solitary Desert, for a mocking Stock, and I would to God, it had been for a mocking Stock only? Of his other Servants I inquire not. I do not curiously question why they went away, why they then especially forsook the King, when he chiefly needed their Help and Service; when he was newly recovered; When he began to go abroad, and had no other Company. Of Alexander Durain I cannot keep Silence, whom you had for his Keeper, and your Spy. What was there for him to espy? Was there any thing for him to bring News of, to an honest Matron, loving to her Husband, faithful in Wedlock, and fearful of a Partner of his Love? Feared she, lest he, a young Gentleman, beautiful, and a King, should cast wanton Eyes upon some other Woman in her Absence? No, God wot; for that was it that she most desired; for she herself had practised to allure him thereto before, she herself had offered him the Occasions, and of herself showed him the means. This was it that most grieved her, while she was seeking Causes of Divorce, that she could not find in him so much as any slender Suspicion of Adultery. Why then were Spies set about him to watch him? Was it not that none of the Nobility, none of his Servants, nor any Stranger at all should come at him, that no Man should speak with him, that might disclose the Treason, and forewarn him of his Danger? This same very Alexander, how carefully she saveth, when she goeth about to kill her Husband? How late she sendeth him away, when the rest were gone, even at the very Point of her Husband's Death, when she had now no more need of Spials? For the day before the Murder was committed, there was none of the Ministers that were privy to her secret Councils left behind, but only Alexander. He, when he saw that Night, no less doleful than shameful, to approach, prepareth, as himself thought a fine subtle Excuse to be absent, so as rather Chance might seem to have driven him out, than he himself willing to have forsaken his Master. He putteth Fire in his own Bed straw, and when the Flame spread further, he made an outcry, and threw his Bedding, half singed, out of the King's Chamber. But the next day, when that Excuse served not so handsomely as he desired, for that in the Queen's hearing, the King very sweetly entreated him not to leave him alone that Night, and also desired him to lie with himself, as he had often used to do, for the King entirely loved him above all the rest; Alexander in Perplexity, wanting what to answer, added to his first Excuse, Fear of Sickness; and pretended, that for commodious taking of Physic for his Health, he would lie in the Town. When this would not yet serve him, the Queen added her Authority, and told the King, That he did not well to keep the young Man with him against the Order of his Health; and therewithal she turned to Alexander, and bade him go where was best for him: And forthwith, as soon as the Word was spoken, he went his Way. I will not here precisely trace out all the Footings of these wicked doings; neither will I curiously inquire, whether that former Day's Fire were happened by Casualty, or kindled by Fraud. Neither will I ask why he that had so often been received to lie in the King's own Bed, doth now this only Night especially refuse it. Let us suppose that Sickness was the Cause thereof. This only one thing I ask, what kind of Sickness it was, that came upon him at that very instant, and before Morning left him again, without any Physicians help; and whereof, neither before, nor since, nor at that present, there ever appeared any Token? But I trust, though he hold his Peace, ye all sufficiently understand it. In the Man guilty in Conscience of the mischievous Intention, Fear of Death overcame Regard of Duty, Had it not been that Alexander, before time a Spy, and Tale-bearer, now a Forsaker and Betrayer of his Master, was joined to her in Privity of all these wicked doings, would not the Queen, so cruel in all the rest, have found in her Heart to bestow that one Sacrifice upon her Husband's Funerals? While these things were in doing, the Night was far passed, and my Lady Rerese, a lusty, valiant Souldieress, before Sign given, cometh forth into the Field, out of Array; abroad she goeth, getteth her to Horseback, and though she were somewhat afraid, as one that foreknew the Storm to come; yet she sat still upon her Horse, tarrying for the Queen, but yet a good pretty way from the House. In the mean time Paris cometh. Then the Communication broke, and they rose to depart. For, by and by, upon sight of him came to her Remembrance that heinous Offence, that without great Propitiations could not be purged, forsooth; that the Queen had not danced at the Wedding-feast of Sebastion the Minstrel and vile Jester; that she sat by her Husband, who had not yet fully recovered his Health; that at the Banquet of her Domestical Parasite, she had not played the dancing Skit. A matter surely worthy of Excuse. But what should she else do? She must needs go, as soon as she saw Paris; for so it was agreed, and somewhat must needs be pretended. How happened it that the other Nights before, when she went away earlier, she made no Excuse at all, and now her Departure about Midnight, must needs have an Excuse alleged? But be it so, Could she remember no better Excuse than Sebastian's Wedding? No, no, I say to the contrary; that if she had left the Wedding of her own natural Body, or her Sister, to visit her Husband, though but a little crazed, she had had a just Excuse before all Men so to do. What if she had done the same Kindness for the King, being not her Husband, or for any other of the Nobility. Is Sebastian's Wedding of such a Value, that a Masking Dance thereat is to be preferred before a Wife's Duty and Love? But surely in this curious excusing and pretended Sorrow of neglected Duty, somewhat lieth hidden; and yet not so hidden, but that it appeareth through the Closure:  
This overmuch Preciseness of Diligence, excusing where no need is, hath some Suspicion of some secret Mischief that you are loath to have disclosed, and the Slightness of the Excuse, increaseth the Suspicion, especially when there were other Matters enough that she might better have alleged I but let us admit the Excuse, since the Queen herself hath thought it reasonable. Whither then goeth she? Strait into her Chamber. What doth she next? Wearied with the Days Travel, and the Night's watching, goeth she to Bed? No, but she falleth to talking with Bothwel, first, almost alone, and afterward alone altogether. What Talk the had, the Matter itself declareth. For Bothwel, after that he had put off, his clothes, as if he would have gone to Bed, by and by putteth on other Apparel, going to do the Deed, he would not be known. I like well the Man's Policy. But his Way was to go through the Watch. Here I marvel at his Madness. But Men's Wits beset with Guiltiness of Mischiefs, do commonly bewray themselves by their own Inconstancy; and blind to all other things, do see only that which they have bend their Mind unto. What he did, the King's Death, his own running away, the Confession of the guilty Persons, and other things that followed the Murder, do declare. After the great Uproar in the Town about it, he, as one utterly ignorant of all, returneth through the same Watch to Bed. When Noise of the Ruin had filled all Men's Ears, and the Crack of it had shaken all the Houses, only the Queen, intentive to Expectation of the Chance, and broad awake, heareth nothing at all, and Bothwel heareth nothing. O marvellous Deafness! All other throughout the Town, as many as were awake, were afraid, and as many as slept were awaked. At the last Bothwel riseth again, and in the self same Interlude, by suddenly shifting from the Poet, becometh a Messenger, he runneth to the Queen, and thither resorteth many others also that lodged in the Palace. To some the Matter seemed true, to some feigned, to some marvellous. What doth the Queen the whilst? What should she do? She temperately brooded good Luck, she resteth sweetly till the next Day at Noon. Yet the Day following, to observe Decorum and comely Convenience in her Part, without marring the Play, she counterfeiteth a Mourning, which yet neither her Joyfulness dwelling withal in Heart, suffereth long to be feigned, nor Shame permitteth to be wholly neglected. These things thus lying open before your Eyes, thus palpable with Hands, thus fast imprinted in Men's Ears and Knowledge, stand we yet enquiring for the Author of the Murder, as though it were doubtful? But ye say, the Queen denieth it. What denieth she? Forsooth, that she did the Murder: As though there were so great a difference, if one should be the Author or the Executioner; yet he commands it, and commits it. She gave her Council, her Furtherance, her Power and Authority to the doing of it. Neither is the Cause unknown why she did it, even that the same filthy Marriage with Bothwel might be accomplished. Though all with Arguments, and so many Witnesses of them that were privy to it, failed; yet by her own Testimony, by her own Letters, it must needs be confessed: And though all other things wanted, these things that followed the Murder, do plainly declare the Doer; namely, that at the slaughter of her Husband, she sorrowed not, but quietly rested, as after a gay Enterprise well achieved; that she mourned not, but in manner openly joyed; that she could abide not only to look upon his dead Body, but also greedily beheld it; that she secretly in the night buried him without funeral Pomp, or rather hid him like a Thief; for that same so inconstant Counterfeiting or Mourning did plainly bewray itself: For what meant that removing to Seton's? Why shunned she the Towns Resort, and People's Eyes? Was it because she was ashamed to Mourn openly, or because she could not well cloak her Joy, or secretly to give herself all to Sorrow? No; for at Seton's she threw away all her disguised personage of Mourning; she went daily into the Fields amongst Russians; and not only resorted to her former Customs, but also affected to exercise manly pastimes, and that among Men, and openly: So lightly she despised the Opinion and Speech of her Country. But I beshrew that same Killegree, and that same Monsieur de Croc, that came upon her so unseasonably, and showed to others her counterfeited Person unvizored; for had not they been, many things that were done, might have been denied; many things might have been handsomely feigned, and much the matter might have been helped by forged Rumours.  
But they will say, There was a solemn Enquiry for the Murder: forsooth, by Bothwel himself principally, and by some other that then laboured, and yet at this day do labour to deliver the Persons guilty thereof, from punishment of Law, and do now plainly show what they then secretly meant. But with what diligence, with what security was that Enquiry handled? A few poor Souls, the next dwelling-Neighbours to the King's Lodging being called, neither durst tell what they had seen and heard; and if they touched any thing near the matter, either they were with fear put to silence, or despised as of no Credit: The wiser sort of them durst not offend Bothwel that sat among the Judges. One or two of the King's Servants that escaped the mischance, were examined which way the Murderers came in? Forsooth, say they, we had not the Keys. Who then had them? It was answered, that the Queen had them: So began the Secrets of the Court to break out; then was that Enquiry adjourned, and never recontinued. What can be more severe and upright than this Enquiry? And yet they prevailed nothing, by it; for what the Examiner's would have had kept secret, that the People cried out openly; that which they suppressed, burst forth; and that which they cloaked in secret, it breaketh out into broad light. But there was a Proclamation set forth, with pardon of the Fact, and promise of Reward to him that would utter it. Why, who had been so mad, that he durst in so manifest peril of his Life, bear Witness, or give Information against the Judges themselves, in whose power lay his Life and Death? It was likely, forsooth, that they which had murdered a King, would spare him that should disclose the Murderer; especially when all Men saw that the Enquiry of the King's Slaughter was quite omitted, and the other Enquiry severely pursued concerning Books accusing the Slaughter. What manner of Judgement it was whereby Bothwel was quitted, you have heard; forsooth, by himself procured, the Judges by himself chosen, the Accusers by himself suborned, lawful Accusers forbidden to be present, unless they would yield their Throats to their Enemy's Weapons; the Assize appointed neither to a day, according to the Law of the Land, nor after the manner of the Country, nor to inquire of the Murder of the King, but of such a Murder as was alleged to be committed the day before that the King was slain. Here when Bothwel by his Friendship and Power, and the Queen by Prayer and Threatening travailed with the Judges, do you now expect what Sentence Men chosen against Law, and against the Custom of the Land have pronounced? In their Judgement, they touched the matter nothing at all; only this they have declared, That it was no lawful Judgement in this; that with a special Protestation they provided, That it should not be prejudicial to them in time to come. Then, that all Men might understand what it was that they sought by Sword, Fire, and Poison, they jumble up Marriages; one is Divorced, another is Coupled, and that in such posting speed, as they might scant have hasted to furnish a Triumph of some Noble Victory: Yet that in these unlawful Weddings some show of lawful Order might be observed, the goodly Banes were openly proclaimed; for publishing whereof, though the Minister of the Church was threatened with Death, if he did it not, yet at the time of his publishing, himself openly protested, That he knew Cause of Exception, why that Marriage was not lawful. But in such a Multitude assembled, how few were they that knew it not? Sith all could remember well that Bothwel had then alive two Wives already not yet Divorced, and the third neither lawfully Married, nor orderly Divorced. But that was not it that was intended, to observe the Ceremonies of lawful Order, but (as they do use in Interludes) they provided a certain show, or disguised counterfeiting of common usage: For he that hath oft broke● all Humane Laws, and hath cast away all Conscience and Religion could easily neglect the Course of God's Law.  
Now I suppose I have briefly declared (in respect of the greatness of the matter) and yet perhaps in more words than needed (the plainness of the profess considered) of what purpose, by what counsel, and upon what hope, that heinous murder was attempted, with what cruelty it was executed, by what tokens, advertisements, testimonies, and letters of the Queen herself the whole matter is proved, and so plainly proved, that it may be as openly seen, as if it lay before your eyes: yet will I show forth the testimony of the whole people, which I think worthy not to be neglected. For several men do commonly deceive, and are deceived by others, but no man deceiveth all men, nor is deceived by all. This testimony of the people is this. When at the Queen's going abroad among the people, the greatest part of the Commons were wont to make Acclamations, wishing her well; and happily with such Speeches as either Love enforceth, or Flattery inventeth: now at her going after the King's slaughter to the Castle, through the chief and most populous Street of the Town, there was all the way a sad glooming silence. And when any woman alone of the multitude had cried, God save the Queen, another by and by so cried out, as all men might hear her; So be it to every one as they have deserved.  
Albeit these things were thus done as I have declared, yet there are some that stick not to say that the Queen was not only hardly, but also cruelly dealt with, that after so detestable a fact, she was removed from her Regency: and when they could not deny the fact, they complained of the punishment. I do not think there will be any man so shameless, to think that so horrible a fact ought to have no punishment at all. But if they complain of the grievousness of the penalty, I fear lest to all good men, we may seem not to have done so gently and temperately, as loosely and negligently, that have laid so light a penalty upon an offence so heinous, and such as was never heard of before. For what can be bone cruelly against the author of so outrageous a deed, wherein all laws of God and man are violated, despised, and in a manner wholly extinguished? Every several offence hath his punishment both by God and man appointed: and as there be certain degrees of evil deeds, so are there also increases in the quantities of punishments. If one have killed a man, it is a deed of itself very heinous. What if he have killed his familiar friend? what if his father? what if in one soul fact he hath joined all these offences together? surely of such a one, neither can his life suffice for imposing, nor his body for bearing, nor the Judge's policy for inventing pain enough for him. Which of these faults is not comprised in this offence? I omit the mean common matters, the murdering of a young gentleman, an innocent, her countryman, her kinsman, her familiar, her Cousin-german. Let us also excuse the fact, if it be possible. She unadvisedly, a young Woman, angry, offended, and one of great innocency of life till this time, hath slain a lewd young man, an adulterer, an unkind husband, and a cruel King.  
If not any one, but all these respects together, were in this matter, they ought not to avail to shift off all punishment, but to raise some pity of the case. But what say you that none of these things can so much as be falsely pretended? The fact itself, of itself is odious: in a woman, it is monstrous: in a wife not only excessively loved, but also most zealously honoured, it is uncredible: and being committed against him whose age craved pardon, whose hearty affection required love, whose nighness of kindred asked reverence, whose innocency might have deserved favour, upon that young man I say, in whom there is not so much as alleged any just cause of offence, thus to execute and spend, yea, to exceed all torments due to all offences, in what degree of cruelty shall we account it? But let these things avail in other persons to raise hatred, to bring punishment, and to make examples to posterity: But in this case let us bear much with her youth, much with her Nobility, much with the name of a Princess. As for mine own part, I am not one that thinks it always good to use extreme strictness of law, no not in private, mean, and common persons. But in a most heinous misdeed, to dissolve all force of law, and where is no measure of ill doing, there to descend beneath all measure in punishing, were the way to the undoing of all laws, and the overthrow of all humane society. But in this one horrible Act is such a hotchpotch of all abominable doings, such an eagerness of all outrageous cruelties, such a forgetfulness of all natural affection, as nothing more can be feigned or imagined. I omit all former matters. I will not curiously inquire upon Princes doings, I will not weigh them by the common beam, I will not restrain them to common degrees of duties. If there be any thing that without great offence may be passed over, I will gladly leave it unspoken of; If there be any thing that may receive excuse, either by respect of age, or of womankind, yea or of unadvisedness, I will not urge it. And to pass over all the rest, two heinous offences there be, that neither according to their greatness be fully expressed, nor according to their outrage be sufficiently punished, I mean the violating of Matrimony, and of Royal Majesty. For Matrimony (as the Apostle saith) doth truly contain a great mystery. For as being observed, it compriseth within it all inferior kinds of duties, so being broken, it overthroweth them all. Whoso hath misused his father, seemeth to have cast out of his heart all natural reverence: but for the husband's sake one shall leave both Father and Mother. Of all other duties, the degrees, or like observances, either are not at all in brute creatures, or not so plain to be discerned: but of matrimonial love, there is almost no living creature that hath not some feeling. This mystery therefore whoso not only violateth, but also despiseth, he doth not only overthrow all the foundations of humane fellowship, but, as much as in him lieth, dissolveth and confoundeth all order of nature. Whosoever (I do not say) hurteth the KING, that is the true Image of God in earth, but slayeth him with strange and unwonted sort of cruelty, so as the untemperate and uncredible outragiousness is not contented with simple torment, seemeth he not, as much as in him lieth, to have a desire to pull God out of Heaven? What refuge have they then left themselves to mercy, that in satisfying their lust of unjust hatred, have exceeded, not only all measure of cruelty, but also all likelihood, that it can be credible.  
But they will say, we ought to bear with, and spare her Nobility, Dignity and age. Be it so, if she have spared him in whom all these respects were greater, or at least equal; let the majesty of Royal name avail her. How much it ought to avail to her preserving, herself hath showed the example. May we commit our safety to her, who a Sister, hath butcherly slaughtered her Brother, a Wife her Husband, a Queen her King? May we commit our safety to her, whom never shame restrained from unchastity, womankind from cruelty, nor religion from impiety? Shall we bear with her age, sex and unadvisedness, that without all just causes of hatred, despised all these things in her Kinsman, her King, her Husband? She that hath sought such execution of her wrongful wrath, what shall we think she will do being provoked by reproaches to men not knit to her by kindred, subject to her pleasure, not matched with her in equal fellowship of life, but yielded to her governance, and enthralled to her tormenting cruelty? when rage for interrupting her pleasure, and outrage of nature, strengthened with armour of licentious Power shall ragingly triumph upon the Goods and Blood of poor Subjects? What is then the fault whereof we are accused? What cruelty have we showed? That a woman raging without measure and modesty, and abusing, to all her Subjects destruction, the force of her Power, that she had received for their safety, we have kept under governance of her kinsmen and wellwilling friends: and whom by right, we might for her heinous deeds have executed, her we have touched with no other punishment, but only restrained her from doing more mischief. For we deprived her not of Liberty, but of unbridled licentiousness of evil doing. Wherein we more fear among all good men, the blame of too much lenity, than among evil men the slander of cruelty.  
These were the causes that moved the Queen to this matter. Bothwel also had his reasons, which not a little troubled his mind. For when that same infamous acquital rather increased, than abated the suspicion, and the matter could not be always kept close, he fleeth to his last refuge, to obtain of the Queen a pardon of all his offences. But when by the law of the land in such Charters of pardon, the greatest offence must be expreslly mentioned, and the rest it sufficed to include in general words, and expressly to confess, the murder of the King seemed to stand neither with his honour, nor with his safety: he was driven of necessity either to invent or commit some other crime, either more grievous, or at the least as heinous, under which the slaughter of the King might lurk in shadow of general words unexpressed. They could devise none other but the same counterfeit ravishment of the Queen, whereby both the Queen provided for enjoying her pleasure, and Bothwel, for his safety.  
MEmorandum, that in the Castle of Edinburgh, there was left by the Earl Bothwel, before his fleeing away, and was sent for by one George Daglish his servant, who was taken by the Earl Moreton, one small gilt Coffer, not fully a foot long, being garnished in sundry places with the Roman letter F. under a King's Crown, wherein where certain Letters and writings well known, and by oaths to be affirmed, to have been written with the Queen of Scots own hand to the Earl Bothwel.  
Beside those Writings, there was also extant a Writing written in Roman hand in French, to be avowed to be written by the said Queen of Scots herself, being a promise of Marriage to the said Bothwel: which writing being without date, and though some words therein seem to the contrary, yet is upon credible grounds supposed to have been made and written by her before the death of her Husband. The tenor whereof thus beginneth. 
Nous Marie par le grace de Dieu, etc.  
We Marry by the Grace of God, etc.   
There is also another writing in Scotish, avowed to be wholly written by the Earl Huntley, dated the fifth of April, 1567. containing a form of Contract of Marriage betwixt the said Queen and Earl Bothwel, subscribed Mary, which is to be avowed to be the proper hand of the said Queen; and underneath it, james Earl Bothwel, which also is to be avowed to be the proper hand of the said Earl Bothwel, at which time he was commonly defamed of the King's slaughter, and not cleansed or acquit thereof before the thirteenth of April following. The tenor of which contract here ensueth. 

AT Seyton, the fifth of April, in the year of God. 1567. The right Excellent, right High and Mighty Princess Mary, by the grace of God Queen of Scots, considering the place and estate wherein Almighty God hath constituted her Highness, and how by the decease of the King her Husband, her Majesty is now destitute of a husband, living solitary in the state of Widowhood; in the which kind of life her Majesty most willingly would continue, if the will of her Realm and Subjects would permit it. But on the other part, considering the inconveniencies may follow, and the necessity which the Realm hath, that her Majesty be coupled with an Husband, her Highness hath inclination to Marry. And seeing what incommodity may come to this Realm, in case her Majesty should join in Marriage with any Foreign Prince of a strange Nation, her Highness has thought rather better to yield unto one of her own Subjects. Amongst whom, her Majesty finds none more able, nor endued with better qualities than the right Noble, and her dear Cousin james, Earl Bothwel, etc. Of whose thankful and true service, her Highness in all times bypast has had large proof, and infallible experience. And seeing not only the same good mind constantly persevering in him, but with that an inward affection, and hearty love towards her Majesty, her Highness amongst the rest, hath made her choice of him. And therefore in the presence of the Eternal God faithfully, and in the word of a Prince, by these presents takes the said james Earl Bothwel as her lawful Husband. And promises and obliges her Highness, that as soon as the Process of divorce intended betwixt the said Earl Bothwel and Dame jane Gordon, now his pretended Spouse, be ended by the order of the Laws, her Majesty shall God willing thereafter shortly Marry, and take the said Earl to her Husband, and complete the band of Matrimony with him in the face of Holy Church. And shall never Marry any other Husband but him only 
Item to the Duke of Norfolk, etc.  during his life time. And as her Majesty of her gracious humanity, and proper motive, without deserving of the said Earl, hath thus inclined her favour and affection towards him, he humbly, and reverently acknowledging the same, according to his bounden duty, and being as free and able to make promise of Marriage, in respect of the said Process of divorce intended for divers reasonable causes, and that his said pretended Spouse hath thereunto consented, he presently takes her Majesty as his Lawful Spouse in the presence of God. And promises and obligeth him, as he will answer to God, and upon his fidelity and Honour, that in all diligence possible, he shall prosecute and set forward the said Process of divorce already begun and intended betwixt him and the said Dame jane Gordon his pretended Spouse, unto the final end of a Decree and Declaration therein. And incontinent thereafter, at her Majesty's good will and pleasure, and when her Highness thinks convenient, shall complete and Solemnize in face of Holy Church the said band of Matrimony with her Majesty, and love, Honour, and serve her Highness, according to the place and Honour that it hath pleased her Majesty to accept him unto, and never to have any other to his Wife during her Majesty's life time. In faith and witnessing whereof, her Highness, and the said Earl have subscribed this present faithful promise, with their hands, as followeth, Day, Year and place v, before these witnesses; George, Earl Huntly, and Master Thomas Hepburn, Parson of Old-Hanstock, etc.  
Sic subscribetur, MARY R. james Earl Bothwel.    
Here note, that this Contract was made the fifth of April, within eight weeks after the Murder of the King, which was slain the tenth of February before. Also it was made seven days before that Bothwel was acquitted by corrupt judgement of the said Murder.  
Also it appeareth by the words of the Contract if self, that it was made before sentence of Divorce between Bothwel and his former Wife. And also in very truth was made before any suit of Divorce, intended or begun between him and his former Wife, though some words in this Contract seem to say otherwise. Which is thus proved. For this Contract is dated the fifth of April, and it plainly appeareth by the judicial acts before the two several Ecclesiastical ordinary Judges, wherein is contained the whole Process of the Divorce between the said Earl, and Dame jane Gordon his Wife, that one of the same Processes, was intended and begun the 26 day of April, and the other the 27 day.  
Also there are extent the Records of the Justice's Court holden at Edinburgh the said 12 day of April, some copies whereof have been exemplified and signed with the hand of john Bellenden Clerk of the Court, among which is the Endictment of Bothwel. The tenor of which Records, with the Assize and verdict do here follow.  

CUria justiciariae S. D. N. Reginae, tenta & inchoata in praetoris de Edinburgh duodecimo die mensis Aprilis, Anno 1567. per nobilem & potentem Dominum Archibaldum Comitem Ergadiae, Dominum Campbel & Lorne justitiarium generalem ejusdem S. D. N. Reginae, totius Regni sui ubilibet constitutum Sen. vocatum, & curia legitime affirmata.   
IN the which Court, appeared personally in Judgement, Mr. john Spens of Condie, and Robert Creycghton of Chock, Advocates to our Sovereign Lady, in her name, and there the said Mr. john Spens produced our Sovereign Lady's Letter execute and endorsed, together with the Endictment; of the which Letters, endorsing thereof, and Endictment, the Tenors hereafter follow, that is to say, 

MARY, by the Grace of God, Queen of Scots, to our trusty and well beloved, William Purwes, Mr. Lawson, and Gawine Ramsey, Messengers, our Sheriffs in that part conjunctly and severally specially constituted, Greeting. Forasmuch as it is humbly meant and showed unto us, by our trusty and beloved Clerks and Counsellors, Mr. John Spens of Condie, and Robert Creycghton of Chock, our Advocates: that whereas they are informed that our trusty Cousin and Counsellor, Matthew Earl of Lenox, Father to the King our dearest Spouse, hath delated James Earl Bothwel, Lord Halis and Creycghton, etc. and certain others, of the Treasonable, cruel, odious, and abominable slaughter and Murder of his Grace, committed upon the ninth day of February last passed, under silence of the night, within his lodging, for the time, within our Bower of Edinburgh, near the Church in the Field, upon provision, set purpose, and forethought Felony. And hath declared unto us the suspicion had of the said Earl and others, as committers of the said odious, cruel and abominable deed. Whereto we being most earnestly bend, minded, and willing to have trial taken therein, by order of justice, with all diligence and expedition possible, have with advice of the Lords of our secret Council, and also of the humble desire of the said Earl Bothwel, made in our and their presence, who offereth himself willing to undergo the Trial of a condign Assize, according to the Laws of our Realm for declaring of this part, have ordained a Court of justice, to be set and holden in the Tol-booth of Edinburgh, the 12 day of April next ensuing, for executing of justice upon the said Earl, and otherwise, for the cruel, odious, foul, and abominable crime and offence: as is more at large contained in an Act made in the Books of our secret Council thereupon.  
Our will therefore is, and we Charge you strictly, and command, that immediately, at the sight of these our letters, ye go, and in our name and Authority, warn the said Matthew Earl of Lenox, personally, or at his dwelling place, and all other our liege People having or pretending to have interest in the said matter by open Proclamation at the Market-crosses of our Burrows of Edinburgh, Dunbarton, Glascow, Lanerk, and other places needful, to appear before our justice, or his deputies, in our Tol-booth of Edinburgh, the said 12. day of April next ensuing, to pursue and concur with us in the said action: with certification to them, that if they fail, that our justice or his Deputies, will proceed and do justice in the said matter the said day, conformable to the Laws and Constitutions of our Realm, without any longer delay or continuation: and that ye summon an Assize to this end, every person under the pain of forty Pounds, as ye will answer to us thereupon. The which to do, we commit to you, jointly and severally, our full power by these our Letters, delivering them by you duly to be executed, and endorsed again to the bearer.  
Given under our Signet at Edinburgh, the 27 of March, in the 25 year of our Reign. 1567. Ex deliberatione Dominorum Concilii Reg. Sic subscribitur, MARY.   

Indorsments of the said Letters.  

UPon the 29 day of March, in the year of God 1567. I William Purwes messenger, one of the Sheriffs in that part within constituted, passed at command of these our Sovereign Lady's Letters, and in her Grace's Name and Authority, warned Matthew Earl of Lennox, and all other her Majesty's lieges having or pretending to have interess in the matter within specified, by open Proclamation at the Market-cross of the Burrow of Edinburgh, to appear before the Justice or his Deputies in the Tol-booth of Edinburgh the 12 day of April next ensuing, to pursue and concur with our said Sovereign Lady in the action within mentioned, with certification as is within expressed, after the form and tenor of these Letters, whereof I affixed one copy upon the said Market-cross. This I did before these witnesses, john Anderson and David Lant, with divers others. And for more witnessing to this my execution and endorsement, my Signet is affixed.   

UPon the last day of March, the first and second days of April, in the year of God above written; I Gowine Ramsy Messenger, one of the Sheriffs in that part within constituted, passed at commandment of these our Sovereign Lady's Letters, and in her Grace's Name and Authority, warned the said Matthew Earl of Lennox, at his dwelling places in Glascow and Dunbarton respectively, because I searched, and sought, and could not apprehend him personally, and all other her Majesty's lieges▪ having and pretending to have Interest to pursue in the matter herein expressed, by Proclamation at the Market-Crosses of the Burroughs of Glascow, Dunbarton, and Lanerk▪ for to appear before the Justice or his Deputies in the said Tol-booth of Edinburgh, the said twelfth day of April next to come, to pursue and concur with our said Sovereign Lady in the action within written, with certification, as is within mentioned, after the form and tenor of these Letters, whereof affixed one copy upon every one of the said Market-Crosses. This I did before these Witnesses, George Herbesoun, Nicholas Andro, Robert Letrik, Messenger, William Smollet, David Robertson, james Smollet, john Hammelton, james Bannatine, and Robert Hammelton, with divers others. And for more witnessing hereof, my signet is affixed; Subscribed with my hand,  
Gavin Ramsy, Messenger.   

UPon the first day of April. The year of God 1567. I William Lawson, Messenger, Sheriff in that part within constituted, passed at command of these our Sovereign Lady's Letters, to the Market-Cross of Perth, and there by open Proclamation lawfully warned Matthew Earl of Lennox, and all others our Sovereign Ladies Liege's, having, or pretending to have interess to pursue james Earl Bothwel, Lord Halis, and Creyghton, etc. and certain others, for the cruel slaughter and murder of the King's Grace, and affixed one Copy upon the said Crosses, after the form and tenor of these Letters. And this I did before these Witnesses, james Marschel, Alex. Borthuike, and john Anderson, Messengers, with divers others. And for the more witnessing of this my Execution and Endorsement, I have subscribed this with my hand,  
Will. Lawson, Messenger.     

The Indictment.  
JAmes Earl Bothwell, Lord Halis, and Creyghton, etc. You are Indicted for acting part of the cruel, odious, treasonable and abominable Slaughter and Murder of the late, the right Excellent, right high and mighty Prince, the King's Grace, dearest Spouse, for the time, to our Sovereign Lady the Queen's Majesty, under silence of Night, in his own Lodging, besides the Church in the Field within this Burrow, he being taking the Night's rest, treasonably raising fire within the same, with a great quantity of Powder; through force of the which, the said whole Lodging was raised, and blown in the Air; and the said late King was murdered treasonably and most cruelly slain and destroyed by you therein upon set purpose, provision, and forethought Felony. And this you did upon the Ninth day of February last passed, under silence of the Night, as abovesaid; as is notoriously known, the which you cannot deny.   
UPon the which Production of the aforesaid Letters executed, endorsed and Indicted, the said Advocate asked an Act of Court and Instruments, and desired of the Justice Process agreeable thereto.  
The said Letters being openly read in Judgement, with the Indorsments thereof, the Justice by virtue of the same, caused to be called the said james Earl Bothwell, as Defendant on the one part, and Matthew Earl of Lenox, and all others our Sovereign Lady's Liege People, having or pretending to pursue in the said matter, to appear before him in this Court of Justice, to pursue and defend according to the Law.  
Immediately after there appeared in Judgement, the said james Earl Bothwell, and entered personally, and then made choice of Mr. David Borthuik of Luchthil, and Mr. Edmund Hay to be Prelocutors for him, who also appeared personally in Judgement, and were admitted by the Justice to that effect.  
There also appeared Mr. Henry Kinrof, alleging to be Proctor for Andrew Master of Errole, and produced in Judgement the Writing and Protestation under written, desiring the same to be registered and inserted in the Books of Adjournal, the tenor whereof followeth.  
The same day appeared Mr. Henry Kinrof Proctor for Andrew Master of Errole, Constable of Scotland, and alleged that the Constables for the time, of this Realm, hath been at all times by past only Judges competent to all such Persons as have been accused criminally, for committing of Slaughter, Murder, or of Blood drawing near to the Prince's Chamber, or within four Miles of the same. And therefore the said Master now being Constable of this Realm, aught and should be the competent Judge to james Earl Bothwell, and others his alleged Complices called this day, and to be accused for acting any part of the alleged Cruelty, treasonable slaughter of the late Henry King of Scots. And in case Archibald Earl of Argyle, as Chief Justice of this Realm, or his Deputies proceed in the said Cause, the said Master Henry Proctor aforesaid protesteth solemnly, that the same proceeding therein, shall in no wise hurt, nor prejudice the said Constable in his Office, Rights, title of Rights, Interests, Jurisdiction, or Investment thereof in any sort, but that he may use and exercise his said Jurisdiction in all such Cases in times coming, conform to his Investment of the said Office, and use of Cognoscing used by his Predecessors, and before him in like Causes. All which time he makes it known, either by Investment or other ways sufficiently him to have Jurisdiction in such Causes. And desires the same Protestation to be inserted in the Book of Adjournal, and admit it under Protestation, that he affirm not the Lord Justice Jurisdiction in any sort in proceeding in the said matter.  
The Justice, being advised with the said Alledgeance and Protestation, found by Interlocutor, and ordained that Process should be laid by him in this matter, notwithstanding the same, in respect that nothing was shown by the said Mr. Henry, to verify the Contents of the said Alledgeance and Protestation. Whereupon the said Earl Brothwell asked a Note of Court and Instrument.  
The said Matthew Earl of Lenox, and others our Sovereign Ladies Liege's, having or pretending to have Interest to pursue in the said matter, being oftentimes called, to have appeared and concurred with the said Advocates, in pursuing of the said Action, Robert Cunningham appeared, alleging him Servant to the said Matthew Earl of Lenox, and produced the Writing under written, which he subscribed with his hand in Judgement; as he that had power to use the same, and protested it, and desired to conform thereto in all points. Of the which Writing the tenor follows. 

MY Lords, I am come here, sent by my Master my Lord of Lenox, to declare the cause of his absence this day, and with his power as the same bears. The cause of his absence is the shortness of time; and that he is denied of his Friends and Servants, who should have accompanied him to his honour and security of his life, in respect of the greatness of his Party, and he having assistance of no Friends but only himself. And therefore his L. commanded me to desire a sufficient Day, according to the weight of the Cause, therefore he may keep the same. And if your L. will proceed at this present, I protest that I may without any displeasure of any man, use these things committed to my Charge by my Lord my Master: Whereof I take a Document.  
Item, I protest, that if the Persons who pass upon Assize and Inquest of these Persons that shall enter on pannal this day, clear the said Persons of the Murder of the King, that it shall be wilful Error and not Ignorance, by reason that it is notoriously known those Persons to be the Murderers of the King, as my Lord my Master alleges, upon the which Protestation I require a Document.  
Sic Subscribitur. ROBERT CUNNINGHAM.    
Upon the Production of the which Writing and Protestation, the said Robert asked Acts and Instruments.  
The Justice, being advised with the aforesaid Writing and Protestation produced, and used by the said Robert Cunningham in respect of the Letters and Writings sent to our Sovereign by the said Matthew Earl of Lenox, produced it, and read it in a Court, whereof the Copies are under written. By the which Letters and Writings, the said Earl of Lenox desired a short and summary Process to be deduced in the said matter, and also of the Act and Ordinance of the Lords of the secret Council granted thereupon, and such like in respect of the earnest insisting of the Advocates, desiring Process and right Suit of the said Earl Bothwel's earnest Petition and Desire of a Trial to be had in the said matter, with the Advice of the Lords and Barons assessors present, and by an Interlocutor, that Process should be deduced in the said Action this day, according to the Laws of this Realm, notwithstanding the Writing and Protestation produced by the said Robert Cunningham, and likewise admit him to concur and assist the said Advocates in the pursuance of the said Action, if he pleased.  

Here followeth the Copies of the Letters and Writings sent to the Queen's Majesty, by the said Earl of Lenox.  

I Render most humble thanks unto your Majesty for your Gracious and Comfortable Letter, which I received the 24th day of this instant. And whereas I perceive by the same, that it is your Majesty's pleasure to remit the Trial of this late odious Act to the time of a Parliament. May it please your Majesty, although I am assured your Highness thinks the time as long as I do till the matter be tried, and the Authors of the Deed condignly punished; yet I shall humbly crave your Majesty's pardon in troubling your Highness so oft therein as I do, for the matter toucheth me so near, I beseech your Majesty, most humbly to accept this my simple Advice in good part, as follows: Which is, that whereas the time is long to the Parliament, this matter not being a Parliament matter, but of such weight and validity, which ought rather to be with all expedition and diligence sought out and punished, to the Example of the whole World, as I know your Majesty's Wisdom considers the same far more than my Wits can comprehend, yet forasmuch as I hear of certain Tickets that have been put on the Tol-booth Door of Edinburgh, answering your Majesty's first and second Proclamations, which mentions in special, the names of certain Persons, devisers of the cruel Murder, I shall therefore most humbly beseech Your Majesty, for the love of God, the Honour of your Majesty, your Realm, and the Weal and Tranquillity thereof, that it would please your Majesty forthwith, not only to apprehend and put in sure keeping the Persons named in the said Tickets, but also with diligence, to assemble your Majesty's Nobility, and then by open Proclamation, to admonish and require the Writers of the said Tickets to appear according to the effect thereof; at the which time, if they do not, your Majesty, may by advice of your Nobility and Council, relieve and set at liberty the Persons named in the Ticket aforesaid. So shall your Majesty do an honourable and godly Act in bringing the matter to such a narrow paint as either the matter shall appear plainly before your Majesty, to the punishment of those who have been the Authors of this cruel Deed, or else the said Tickets found vain in their selves, and the Persons which are slandered to be exonerated and set at liberty at your Majesty's pleasure. So I commit your Majesty to the Pretection of Almighty God, to preserve you in Health, and most happy Reign. Of Howstoun the 26th Day of February.   

MAy it please your Majesty, where your Highness in your last Letter writes to me, that if there be any Names in the Tickets, that were affixed upon the Tolbooth Door of Edinburgh, that I think worthy to suffer a Trial for the Murder of the King your Majesty's Husband, upon my Advertisement, your Majesty should proceed to the Cognition taken, as may stand with the Laws of this Realm, and being found culpable, shall see the punishment as rigorously executed as the weight of the Crime deserves. May it please your Majesty, since the receipt of your Highness' Letter, I have still looked that some of the bloody Murderers should have been openly known ere now. And seeing they are not yet, I cannot find in my heart to conceal the matter any longer, but let your Majesty understand the names of them whom I greatly suspect, that is to say; the Earl Bothwel, Mr. James Balfor, and Gilbert Balfor his Brother, Mr. David Chamer, Blackmaster, John Spens, Senior Francis, Bastian, John the Burdeavix, and Joseph David's Brother. Which Persons I most entirely and humbly beseech your Majesty, that according to my former Petition unto your Highness, it will please, not only to apprehend and put in sure keeping, but as with diligence to assemble your Majesty's whole Nobility and Council, and then to take such perfect order of the afore-named Persons, that they may be justly tried, as I doubt not but in so doing the Spirit of God shall work in the said matter, that the truth shall be known. So shall your Majesty do a most godly and honourable Act, for yourself being the Party as you are, a great Satisfaction it shall be to all that belongs unto him that is gone, who was so dear unto your Highness. And now, not doubting but your Majesty will take order in the matter according to the weight of the Cause, which I most humbly beseech, I commit your Majesty to the Protection of the Almighty God, who preserve you in Health, long Life, and most happy Reign. Of Howstoun this Seventeenth of March.   



Assizes.  
Andro Earl of Rothes,  
George Earl of Caithnes,  
Gilbert Earl of Cassillis,  
Lord john Hamilton, Commander of Arbroycht, Son to the Lord Duke.  
james Lord Rosse,  
Robert Lord Sunple,  
john Maxwell Lord Hereif,  
Laurence Lord Oliphant,  
john Master of Forvess,  
john Gordon of Lothinware,  
Robert Lord Boyd,  
james Cokbourn of Launton,  
john Somervile of Cambusnethan, Mowbray of Bern Buxal, Ogilby of Boyn.      
THe forenamed Persons of Assize being chosen, admitted and sworn in Judgement, as the use is. And therefore the said Earl Bothwell being accused by the said Dictate of the Crime aforesaid, and the same being denied by him, and referred to the deliverance of the said Assize, they removed out of the said Court, and all together convened, and after long reasoning had by them upon the same Dictate and Points thereof, they and eke one of them for themselves voted, delivered, and acquit the said james Earl Bothwell of act and ●●rt of the said slaughter of the King, and Points of the said Dictate.  
And since the said George Earl of Caithnes, Chancellor of the said Assizes in his and their Names asked Instruments, that neither the said Advocates, nor the said Robert Cunningham as have had Commission of my Lord of Lenox, nor no other brought into them any Writing, Token, or Verification, whereby the Dictate above written might be forfeit, nor the said Assize persuaded to deliver any otherwise, than is above written. Nor yet was the said Dictate sworn, nor no Party, except the said Advocates, competent to pursue the same, and therefore in respect that they delivered according to their knowledge, protests that they should incur no wilful Error in any wise hereafter. Which Instrument and Protestation immediately after the reentry of the said Earl of Caithnes Chancellor, and one part of the named of the said Persons of Assize in the said Court of Justiciary, before the Pronunciation of their Deliverance aforesaid at the desire of the said Earl of Caithnes was openly read in Judgement. And thereupon he of new asked Acts and Instruments, and protesteth in manner above expressed.  

EXtractum de libro Actorum Adjournalis S. D. N. Regina▪ Per me joannem Bellencen de Auchnoule militem, clericum justiciariae ejusdem generalem. Sub meis signo & subscriptione mannalibus.  
Joannes Bellenden Clericus justiciariae.   
Note, That at the same time Protestation was made by George Earl of Caithnes, Chancellor of the said Assize, that the said Dictate or Indictment was not in this point true, viz. in alleging the Murder to be committed the 9th day of February, for that indeed the Murder was committed the next day being the 10th Day in the Morning, at two hours after Midnight, which in Law was and ought to be truly accounted the 10th Day, and so the Acquittal that way but cavillingly defended.  
The Writings and Letters found in the said Casket, which are avowed to be written with the Scottish Queens own hand. 

Certain French Sonnets written by the Queen of Scots to Bothwell, before her marriage with him, and (as it is said) while her Husband lived; but certainly before his Divorce from his Wife, as the words themselves show, before whom she here preferreth herself in deserving to be beloved of Bothwell.  


O Dieux ayez de moy compassion,  
Et m' enseignez quelle preuve certain  
je puis donner qui ne luy semble vain  
De mon amour & ferme affection.  
Las! n' est il pas ja en possession  
Du corps, du coeur qui ne refuse pain  
Ny dishonneur, en la vie incertain,  
Offense de parents, ne pire affliction?  
Pour luy tous mes ames j' estimemoins que rien,  
Et de mes ennemis je veux esperer bien.  
I' ay hazardé pour luy & nom & conscience:  
je veux pour luy au monde renoncer:  
je veux mourir pour luy auancer.  
Eve reste il plus pour prouver ma constance?  
Entre ses mains & en son plein pouveir  
je metz mon filz, mon honneur, & may vie,  
Mon pais, mes subjectz mon ame assubjectie  
Est tout à luy, & n'ay autoe vaulloir  
Pour mon object que sans le decovoir  
Suiure je veux malgré toute l' envie  
Qu' issir en peult, Car je n' autre e vie  
Que de ma foy, luy faire appercevoir  
Que pour tempeste ou bonnace qui face.  
jamais ne veux changer demeure ou place.  
Brief je feray de ma foy telle preuve,  
Qu' il cognoistra sans fainte ma constance,  
Non parmes pleurs ou fainte obeyssance,  
Comme autres ont fait, mais par divers espreuve.  
Elle pour son honneur vous doibt obeyssance  
Moy vous obeyssant i' in puis recevoir blasme,  
N' estat, à mo regret, comme elle vostre femme.  
Et si n' aura pour tant an ce point préeminence.  
Pour son profit elle use de constance,  
Carce n'est peu d'honneur d'estre de voz biens dame  
Et moy pour vois aimer j' en puis recevoir blasme  
Et ne luy veux beder en toute l' observance  
Elle de vostre mal n' à l' apprehension  
Moy je n'ay nul repos tant je crains l' apparence  
Par l'aduis des parentz, elle eut vestre accointance  
Moy maugré tous les mines vous porte affection  
Et de sa loyaute prenez ferme asseurance.   

Par vous mon coeur & par vostre alliance  
Elle à remis sa maison en honneur  
Elle à jovy par vous la grandeur  
Dont tous les siens n' ayent nul asseurance  
De vous mon bien elle à eu la constance,  
Et a gaigné pour un temps vostre coeur,  
Par vous elle á eu plaissren bon heur,  
Et pour vous à receu honneur & reverence,  
Et n' à per lu sin on la jovissance  
D' un fascheux sot qu' elle aymoit cherement,  
je ne la playns d' aymer donc ardamment,  
Celuy qui n' à en sens, ny en vaillance,  
En beautê, en bonte. ny en constance  
Point de seconde. je vis en ceste foy.   

Quant vous l' amioz, elle usoit de freideur.  
sy vous souffriez, pour s' amour passion  
Qui vient d' aymer de trop d' affection,  
Son doig monstroit, la tristesse de coeur  
N ayant plisir de vostre grand ardeur  
En ses habitz, monstroit sans fiction  
Qu' ellen' avoit paour qu' imperfection  
●eust l' effacer hors de ce loyal coeur.  
De vostre mort je ne vis la pea●u  
Que meritoit tel Mary & seigneur.  
Comme de vous elle à eu tout son bien  
Et n' à prise ny jamais estimé  
Un si grand heur si non puis qu' il n' est sien  
Et maintenant dit l' avoir tant aymé.  
Et maintenant elle commence à voir  
Qu' olle estoit bien de mauvais jugement  
De n' estimer l' amour d' un tel amant  
Et voudroit bien mon amy decevoir  
Par les escriptz tout sardez de scavoir  
Qui pourtant n' est en son esprit croissant  
Ains emprunté de quelque autheur luissant.  
A faint tresbien un envoy sans l' avoir  
Et toutesfois ses parolles sardez,  
Sesse pleurs, ses plaincts remplis de fictions,  
Et ses bauts cris & lamentatious,  
Ont tant gaigné qui par vous sont gardez,  
Sesse lettres escriptes ausquelles vous donnez soy  
Et si l' aymez & croyez plus que moy.   

Vous la croyez, las! trop je l' appercoy  
Et vous doutez, de ma ferme constance,  
O mon seul bien & mon seul esperience,  
Et ne vous puis je asseurer de ma foy  
Vous m'estimez leger que je voy,  
Et si n' avez en moy nul asseurance,  
Et soupconnez mon coeur sans apparence,  
Vous deffiant à trop grand tort de moy.  
Vous ignorez l' amour que je vous porte,  
Vous soupconnex qu' autre amour me transporte,  
Vous estimez mes parolles du vent,  
Vous depeignez de cire mon las coeur,  
Vous me pensez femme sans jugement.  
Et tout cela augmente mou ardeur.   

Mon amour croist & plus en plus croistra  
Tant que je viuray, & tiendray à grandheur.  
Tant seulement d' avoir part en ce coeur  
Vers qui en fin mon amour persistra  
Si tres à clair que jamais n' en en doutra.  
Pour luy je veux rechercher la grandeur,  
Et feray tant qu' en uray cognoistra,  
Que je n' ay bien, heur, ne contentement,  
Qu' à l' obeyr & servir loyaument.  
Pour luy jattend toute bonne fortune.  
Pour luy je veux garder santé & vie.  
Pour luy tout vertu de suiure j' ay envie,  
Ee sans changer me trouvera tout ' une.   

Pour luy aussi je jette maintes larmes.  
Premier quand il se fist de ce corps possesseur,  
Du quel alors il n' avoit pas le coeur.  
Puis me donna un autre dur alarme,  
Quand il versa de son sang mainte dragme,  
Dont de grief il me vint laisser doleur▪  
Qui m' en pensa oster la vie, & frayeur  
De perdre las! le seul rempar qui m' arme.  
Pour luy depuis jay mesprise l' honneur  
Ce qui nous peult seul pourvoir de bonheur.  
Pour luy j' ay hazardé grandeur & conscience.  
Pour luy tous mes parentz j' ay quite, & amis,  
Et tous autres respectz sont apart mis,  
Brief de vous seul je cherche l' alliance.   

De vous je dis seul soustein de ma vie  
Tant seulement je cherche m' asseurer,  
Et si ose de moy tant presumer  
De vous gaigner maugré toute l' envie.  
Car c' est le seul desir de vostre chere amie,  
De vous servir & loyaument aymer,  
Et tous malheurs moins que rien estimer,  
Et vostre volonte de lamien ne sujure.  
Vous cognostrez avecques obeyssance  
De mon loyal devoir n' omittant lascience  
A quoy je estudieray pour tousiours vous complaire  
Sans aymer rien que vous, soubz la subjection▪  
De qui je veux sans nulle fiction  
Viure & mourir & à ce j' obtempere.   

Mon coeur, mon sang, mon ame, & mon soucy  
Las, vous m' avez promis qu' aurons ce plaisir  
De deviser avecques vous à loysir▪  
Toute la nuict, ou je languis jey,  
Ayant le coeur d' extreme paour transy,  
Pour voir absent le but de mon deslr  
Crainte d' ouhlier un coup me vient à saisir:  
Et l' autre fois je crains que rendurcie  
Soit contra moy vostre amiable coeur  
Par quelque dit d' un meschant ramporteur.  
Un autre fois je crains quelque aventure  
Qui par chemin detourne mon amant,  
Par un fascheux & nouveau accident.  
Dieu detourne toute malheureux augure.   

Ne vous voyant selon qu' avez promis  
I' ay mis la main au papier pour escrire  
D'un different que je voulu transcrire.  
je ne scay pas qael sera vostre aduis  
Mais je scay bien qui mieux aymer scaura,  
Vous diriez bien que plus y gaignera.    


O Goddess have of me Compassion,  
And show what certain Proof  
I may give, which shall not seem to him vain,  
Of my Love and fervent Affection.  
He alas, is he not already in possession  
Of my Body, of Heart, that refuses no pain?  
Nor Dishonour in this life uncertain,  
Offence of Friends, nor worse affliction,  
For him I esteem all my Friends less than nothing,  
And I will have good hope of my enemies.  
I have put in hazard for him both Fame and Conscience,  
I will for his sake renounce the World,  
I will die to set him forward.  
What remaineth to give proof of my Conscience?   

In his hands and in his full power,  
I put my Son, my Honour, and my Life,  
My Country, my Subjects, my Soul, all subdued  
To him, and has none other will  
For my scope, which without deceit,  
I will follow in spite of all Envy  
That may ensue: for I have no other desire,  
But to make him perceive my faithfulness,  
For storm or fair weather that may come,  
Never will it change Dwelling, or Place.  
Shortly I shall give of my truth such proof,  
That he shall know my Constancy without fiction,  
Not by my Weeping, or feigued Obedience,  
As other have done: but by other experience.   

She for her Honour oweth you Obedience:  
I in obeying you may receive Dishonour,  
Not being (to my Displensure) your Wife as she  
And yet in this point she shall have no Pre-eminence.  
For it is no little Honour to be Mistress of your Goods,  
And I for loving of you may receive blame,  
And I will not be overcome by her in loyal Observance.  
She has no apprehension of your Evil,  
I fear so all appearing evil that I can have no rest,  
She had your acquaintance by consent of her Friends,  
I against all their Will have born you Affection,  
And not the less (my Heart) you doubt of my Constancy,  
And of her Faithfulness you have firm assurance.   

By you (my Heart) and by your alliance  
She hath restored her House unto Honour,  
By you she is become to that Greatness,  
Of which her Friends had never assurance,  
Of you (my Wealth) she got the Acquaintance,  
And hath conquered the same time your Heart.  
By you she hath Pleasure and good luck,  
And by you hath received Honour and Reverence,  
And hath not lost but the enjoying  
Of one unpleasant Fool which she loved dearly.  
Then I moan her not to love ardently  
Him that hath none in Wit, in Manhood,  
In Beauty, in Bounty, in Truth, nor in Constancy,  
Any second: I live in the belief.   

When you loved her she used coldness,  
If you suffer for her love passion.  
That cometh of too great Affection of life,  
Her Sadness shows the Dolour of her Heart,  
Taking no pleasure of your vehement Burning,  
In her clothing she shows unfeignedly,  
That she had no fear, that Imperfection  
Could deface her out of that true heart.  
I did not see in her the Fear of your Death,  
That was worthy of such a Husband and Lord.  
Shortly she hath of you all her Wealth.  
And hath never weighed nor esteemed  
On so great hap, but since it was not hers,  
And now she saith that she loveth him so well.   

And now she beginneth to see,  
That she was of very evil judgement,  
To esteem the Love of such a Lover,  
And would fain deceive my Love.  
By Writings and painted Learning,  
Which not the less did not breed in her brain,  
But borrowed from some feat Author,  
To feign one Story and have none.  
And for all that her painted Words,  
Her Tears, her Plaints full of dissimulation,  
And her high Cries and Lamentations  
Hath won that Point, that you keep in store,  
Her Letters and Writings, to which you give trust,  
Yea, and lovest and believest her more than me.   

You believe her (alas) I perceive it too well,  
And callest in doubt my firm Constancy  
(O mine only Wealth, and mine only Hope)  
And I cannot assure you of my truth.  
I see that you esteem me light,  
And be no way assured of me,  
And dost suspect (my Heart) without any appearing cause,  
Discrediting me wrongfully.  
You do not know the Love I bear to you,  
You suspect that other Love transporteth me.  
You think my Words be but wind:  
You paint my very Heart, as it were of wax,  
You imagine me a Woman without judgement.  
And all that increaseth my burning.   

My Love increaseth, and more and more will increase,  
So long as I shall live, and I shall hold for a great Felicity  
To have only part in that Heart,  
To which at length my Love shall appear,  
So clearly, that he shall never doubt,  
For him I will strive against one World,  
For him I will renounce greatness,  
And shall do so much that he shall know  
That I have no Wealth, Hap, nor Contentation,  
But to obey and serve him truly.  
For him I attend all good Fortune.  
For him I will conserve Health and Life.  
For him I desire to ensue Courage,  
And he shall ever find me unchangeable.   

For him also I poured▪ out many Tears,  
First when he made himself Possessor of this Body,  
Of the which then he had not the Heart.  
After he did give me one other hard Charge,  
When he bled of his Blood great quantity,  
Through the great Sorrow of the which came to me that dolour,  
That almost carried away my Life, and the Fear  
To lose the only Strength that armed me,  
For him since I have despised Honour,  
The thing only that bringeth Felicity.  
For him I have hazarded Greatness and Conscience.  
For him I have forsaken all Kindred and Friends,  
And set aside all other Respects,  
Shortly, I seek the Alliance of you only.   

Of you I say the only upholder of my Life,  
I only seek to be assured,  
Yea, and dare presume so much of myself,  
To win you in syite of all Envy:  
For that is the only Desire of your dear love,  
To serve and love you truly,  
And to esteem all this Hap less than nothing,  
And to follow your Will with mine,  
You shall know with Obedience,  
Not forgetting the Knowledge of my loyal Duty,  
The which I shall study to the end that I may ever please you,  
Loving nothing but you, in the Subjection  
Of whom I will without any fiction,  
Live and die, and this I consent.   

My Heart, my Blood, my Soul, my Care,  
Alas you had promised that I should have that Pleasure,  
To devise with you at leisure.  
All the Night where I lie and languish here,  
My Heart being overset with extreme Fear  
Seeing absent the Sum of my desire.  
Fear of forgetting sometime taketh me,  
And other Times I fear that loving Heart,  
Be not hardened against me  
By some saying of some wicked Reporter.  
Other Times I fear some Adventure,  
That by the way should turn back my Love  
By some troublesome and new Accident.  
O God turn back all unhappy Augur.   

Not seeing you as you had promised,  
I put my Hand to the Paper to write,  
Of one difference that I have will it copy.  
I cannot tell what shall be your judgement,  
But I know well who can best love,  
You can tell who shall win most.     

A Letter written by her from Glascoe to Bothwell, proving her Hate to her Husband, and some suspicions of practising his Death, which Letter was written in French, and here ensueth, translated word for word.  

IL semble qu' avecques vostre absence soit joynt l' oubly, veu qu' au partir vous me promistes de vos novelles. Et toutes foys je n' en puis apprendre, &c.   

IT appears, that with your absence there is also joined forgetfulness, seeing that at your departing you promised to make me Advertisement of your News from time to time. The waiting upon them yesterday, caused me to be almost in such Joy as I will be at your returning, which you have delayed longer than your promise was. As to me, howbeit, I have no further News from you according to my Commission, I bring the Man with me to Cragmiller upon Monday, where he will be all Wednesday, and I will go to Edinburgh to draw Blood of me, if, in the mean time, I get no News to the contrary from you. He is more Gay than ever you saw him, he puts me in remembrance of all things that may make me believe he loves me. Perhaps you will say that he makes love to me: Of the which I take so great pleasure, that I enter never where he is, but incontinent I take the sickness of my sore Side, I am so troubled with it. If Pareis brings me that which I send him for, I trust it shall amend me. I pray you advertise me of your News at length, and what I shall do, in case you be not returned when I am come there, for in case you work not wisely I see that the whole burden of this will fall upon my Shoulders. Provide for all things, and Discourse upon it first with yourself. I send this by Betoun, who goes to one day of Law of the Lord of Belsours. I will say no further, saving I pray you to send me good News of your Voyage. From Glascoe this Saturday in the Morning.    

Another Letter to Bothwell concerning the Hate of her Husband, and Practice of his Murder.  

EStant party du lieu ou j' avois laissé mon coeur il se peult aysément juger quelle estoit ma contenance, veu ce qui peult un corps sans coeur, qui à este cause que jusques à la disnée je n' ay pas tenu grand propos, aussi personne ne s' est voulu advancer jugeant bien qu' il n' y faisoit bon, &c.   

BEing departed from the place where I left my heart, it is easy to be judged what was my countenance, seeing that I was even as much as one body without a heart, which was the occasion that while dinner time I held purpose to no body, nor yet durst any present themselves unto me, judging that it was not good so to do. Four miles ere I came to the Town, one Gentleman of the Earl of Lenox came and made his Commendations unto me, and excused him that he came not to meet me, by reason that he durst not enterprise the same, because of the rude words that I had spoken to Cunningham, and he desired that he should come to the Inquisition of the matter that I suspected him of. This last speaking was of his own head without any Commission. I answered to him that there was no receipt could serve against fear, and that he would not be afraid in case he were not culpable; and that I answered but rudely to the doubts that were in his Letters. So that I made him hold his Tongue. The rest were too long to write. Sir james Hamilton met me, who showed that the other time, when he heard of my coming, he departed away, and sent Houston to show him that he would never have believed that he would have pursued him, nor yet accompanied him with the hamilton's. He answered, that he was only come but to see me, and that he would neither accompany Stewart nor Hamilton, but by my Commandment. He desired that he would come and speak with him; he refused it. The Lord of Luse, Hounston and Cauldwellis his Son, with forty Horse or thereabout came and met me. The Lord of Luse said that he was charged to one day of Law, by the King's Father, which should be this day, against his own hand writing, which he has. And yet notwithstanding, knowing of my coming it is delayed, he was inquired to come to him, which he refused, and swears that he will endure nothing of him. Never one of that Town came to speak to me, which causes me to think that they are his, and nevertheless he speaks good, at the least his Son. I see no other Gentleman but they of my company. The King sent for joachim yesternight, and asked of him, why I lodged not beside him, and that he would rise the sooner if that were, and wherefore I come, if it was for good Appointment, and if you were there in particular, and if I had made my Estate, if I had taken Pareis and Gilbert to write to me, and that I would send 
This bearer will tell you somewhat upon this.  joseph away. I am abashed who hath shown him so far, yea, he spoke even of the Marriage of Bastian. I inquired him of his Letters, whereunto he complained of the Cruelty of some, answered that he was astonished, and that he was so glad to see me, that he believed to die for gladness, he found great fault that I was pensive, I departed to Supper, this Bearer will tell you of my arriving, he prayed me to return, the which I did; he declared unto me his sickness, and that he would make no Testament but only leave all things to me, and that I was the cause of his Malady, because of the regret that he had that I was so strange unto him. And thus he said, you ask me what I mean by the Cruelty contained in my Letter, it is of you alone that will not accept of my offers and repentance. I confess that I have failed, but not into that which I ever denied, and such like has fallen to sundry of your Subjects which you have forgiven. I am young. You will say, that you have forgiven me oftentimes, and yet that I return to my faults. May not any Man of my Age for lack of Counsel fall twice or thrice, or in lack of his Promise, and at last repent himself, and be chastised by experience? If I may obtain pardon, I protest I shall never make fault again. And I crave no other thing, but that we may be at Bed and Board together as Husband and Wife: and if you will not consent hereunto, I will never rise out of this bed. I pray you tell me your Resolution. God knows how I am punished for making my God of you, and for having no other thought but on you; and if at any time I offend you, you are the cause, because when any offends me, if for my Refuge I might complain unto you, I would speak it unto no other body; but when I hear any thing, not being familiar with you, necessity constrains me to keep it in my Breast; and that causes me to try my Wit for very anger. I answered strait unto him, But that would be overlong to write at length. I asked why he would pass away in the English Ship? He denies it, and swears thereunto; but he grants that he spoke with the Men. After this, I inquired of the Inquisition of Highgates; he denied the same, while I showed him the very Words were spoken. At which time he said, that Minto had advertised him that it was said that some of the Council had brought one Letter to me to be subscribed to put him in Prison, and to slay him if he made resistance. And he asked the same of Minto himself, who answered, That he believed the same to be true. In the Morning I will speak to him upon this point. As to the rest, William Highgates he confessed it; but it was the Morning after my coming ere he did it. He would very fain that I should lodge in his Lodging; I refused it, and said to him, that he behoved to be purged, and that could not be done here: he said to me, I hear say you have brought one Letter with you, but I had rather have passed with you. I think he believed that I would have sent him away Prisoner; I answered, That I would take him with me to Cragmillar, where the Physician and I might help him, and not be far from my Son: he answered, that he was ready when I pleased, so I would assure him of his Request; he desires no body to see him; he is angry when I speak of Walcar, and says, that he shall pluck the ears from off his Head, and that he lies; for I inquired him upon that, and that he was angry with some of the Lords, and would threaten them; he denies that, and says, he loves them all, and prays me to give trust to nothing against him, as to me he would rather give his Life ere he did any displeasure to me. And after this he showed me of so many little flatteries, so coldly, and so wisely, that you will be ashamed thereat. I had almost forgot that he said he could not doubt of me in this purpose of Highgates, for he would never believe that I who was his proper Flesh would do him any evil, as well it was shown that I refused to subscribe the same: but as to any others that would pursue him, at least he should sell his Life dear enough; but he suspected no body nor yet would not, but would love all that I loved; he would not let me depart from him, but desired that I should wake with him: I make it seem that I believe that all is true, and takes heed thereto, and excused myself for this night that I could not wake: he says he sleeps not well; you saw him never better, nor speak more humble; and if I had not a proof of his heart of Wax, and that mine were not of a Diamond, whereinto no shot can make breach, but that which comes forth of your hand, I would have almost had pity of him. But fear not, the place shall hold unto the death▪ Remember in recompense thereof, that ye suffer not yours to be won by that false Race that will travel no less with you for the same. I believe they have been at School together; he has ever the tear in his Eye; he salutes every body, yea unto the least, and makes piteous moan unto them to make them have pity on him. This day his Father bled at the mouth and nose; guess what Presage that is: I have not yet seen him, he keeps his Chamber. The King desires that I should give him Meat with mine own hands: but give no more trust where you are than I shall do here. This is my first Journey; I shall send the same to morrow. I write all things; howbeit they be of little weight, to the end that ye may take the best of all to judge upon. I am in doing of a work here that I hate greatly. Have you not a desire to laugh to see me lie so well, at the least to dissemble so well, and to tell him truth betwixt hands. He showed me almost all that is in the Name of the Bishop and Sunderland, and yet I have never touched one word of that you showed me, but only by force flattering, and to pray him to assure himself of me; and by complaining on the Bishop I have drawn it all out of him: you have heard the rest. We are coupled with two false Races, the Devil sunder us, and God knit us together for the most faithful couple that ever he united. This is my Faith, I will die in it. Excuse it▪ I write evil, you may guess the half of it, but I cannot mend it, because I am not well at ease, and very glad to write unto you when the rest are asleep, sith I cannot sleep as they do, and as I would desire, that is, in your Arms my dear Love, whom I pray God to preserve from all evil, and send you repose. I am going to seek mine till the Morning, when I shall end my Bible; but I am vexed that it stops me to write news of myself unto you, because it is so long. Advertise me what you have deliberated to do in the matter, you know upon this point, to the end that we may understand each other well, that nothing thereof be spilt. I am weary, and going to sleep, and yet I cease not to scribble all this Paper in so much as remains thereof. Wearied might this pocky man be, that causes me to have so much pain, for without him I should have a far pleasanter Subject to discourse upon. He is not overmuch deformed, yet he has received very much. He has almost slain me with his breath, it is worse than your Uncles, and yet I came no nearer unto him but in a Chair at the bed's feet, and being at the other end thereof. 
The message of the Father in the Gate.  
The purpose of Sir james Hamilton.  
Of that the L. of Lusse showed me of the delay.  
Of the demands that he asked of joachim.   
Of my estate, of my company, of the occasion of my coming, and of joseph. 
Item, the purpose that he and I had together.   
Of the desire he has to please me, and of his repentance. 
Of the interpretation of his Letter.  
Of William Highgates matter of his departing.  
Of Monseur de Levingston.   
I had almost forgot that Monseur de Levingston said in the Lady Reres ear at Supper, that he would drink to the folk I wist of, if I would pledge them. And after Supper he said to me when I was leaning upon him warming me at the fire; you have fair going to see such folk, yet you cannot be so welcome unto them, as you left some body this day in sadness, that will never be merry while he see you again. I asked of him, who that was? with that he thrust my body and said, that some of his folks had seen you in saschery, you may guess at the rest. I wrought this day while it was two hours upon this bracelet, for to put the key of it within the lock thereof, which is coupled underneath with two cordwins. I have had so little time that it is evil made; but I shall make one fairer in the mean time. Take heed that none that is here see it, for all the world will know it; because for hast it was made in their presence. I am now passing to my intended purpose. You make me dissemble so far that I have horror thereat; and you cause me to do almost the office of a Traitor: Remember how if it were not to obey you, I had rather be dead ere I did it; my heart bleeds at it. So that, he will not come with me except upon condition that I will promise to him that I shall be at Bed and Board with him as before, and that I shall leave him not after; and doing this upon my word he will do all things that I please, and come with me; but he prayed me to remain with him while another morning. He spoke very bravely at the beginning, as this Bearer will show you, upon the purpose of the Englishmen, and of his departing; but in the end he returned again to his humility. He showed amongst other purposes that he knew well enough, that my Brother had showed me that thing which he had spoken in Scriveling; of the which he denies the one half, and above all, that ever he came in his Chamber. For to make him trust me, it behoved me to feign in some things with him; therefore when he requested me to promise unto him, that when he was whole we should have both one Bed, I said to him, feigningly and making me believe his premises, that if he changed not purposes betwixt this and that time, I would be content therewith; but in the mean time I bade him take heed that he let no body know thereof; because to speak amongst ourselves the Lords could not be offended, nor will evil therefore. But they would fear in respect of the boasting he made of them, that if ever we agreed together▪ he should make them know the little account they took of him; and that he counselled me not to purchase some of them by him; they for this cause would be in jealousy, if attains without their knowledge, I should break the play set up in the contrary in their presence. He said very joyfully: And think you they will esteem you the more for that? But I am very glad that you speak to me of the Lords, for I believe at this time you desire that we should live together in quietness; for if it were otherways, greater inconvenience might come to us both than we are aware of; but now I will do whatever you will do, and will love all that you love, and desire you to make them love in like manner; for since they seek not my life, I love them all equally. Upon this point the Bearer will show you many small things. Because I have overmuch to write, and it is late, I give trust unto him upon your word. So that he will go upon my word to all places. Alas, I never deceived any body, But I remit me altogether to your will. Send me Advertisement what I shall do, and whatsoever thing shall come thereof I shall obey you. Advise too with yourself if you can find any more secret invention by medicine: for he should take medicine and the bath at Cragmillar. He may not come forth of the house this long time. So that by all that I can learn, he is in great suspicion; and yet notwithstanding he gives credit to my word; but yet not so far as that he will show any thing to me. But nevertheless I shall draw it out of him, if you will that I avow all unto him. But I will never rejoice to defame any body that trusts in me; yet notwithstanding you may command me in all things. Have no evil opinion of me for that cause, by reason you are the occasion of it yourself, because for mine own particular revenge I would not do it to him. He gives me some checks of that which I feared, yea even in the quick, he says thus far, that his faults were published, but there is that commits faults that believe they will never be spoken of, and yet they will speak of great and small. As towards the Lady Reres he said, I pray God that she may serve you for your Honour. And said, it is thought, and he believes it to be true, that I have not the Power of myself over myself, and that because of the refuse I made of his offers. So that, for certainty he suspects of the thing you know, and of his life. But as to the last, how soon that I spoke two or three good words unto him, he rejoices, and is out of doubt. I saw him not this evening to end your bracelet, to the which I can get no locks, it is ready for them, and yet I fear it will bring some evil, and may be seen if you chance to be hurt. Advertise me if you will have it, and if you will have more silver, and when I shall return, and how far I may speak. He enrages when he hears of Lethington, or of you, or of my Brother. Of your Brother he speaks nothing, he speaks of the Earl of Argyle. I am in fear when I hear him speak; for he assures himself that he has not one evil opinion of him. He speaks nothing of them that is aught neither good or evil, but flies that point. His Father keeps his Chamber, I have not seen him. All the hamilton's are here, that accompanies me very honourably. All the Friends of the other conveys me when I go to see him. He desires me to come, and see him rise the Morn betime. For to make short, this Bearer will tell you the rest. And if I learn any thing here, I will make you a Memorial at Even. He will tell you the occasion of my remaining. Burn this Letter, for it is over dangerous, and nothing well said in it; for I am thinking upon nothing but fraud. If you be in Edinburgh at the receipt of it, send me word soon. Be not offended, for I give not overgreat credit. Now seeing to obey you, my dear Love, I spare neither Honour, Conscience, Hazard, nor Greatness whatsoever, take it I pray you in good part; end not after the Interpretation of your false good Brother; to whom I pray you give no credit, 
Huntley.  against the most faithful Lover that ever you had, or ever shall have. See not her whose faint Tears should not be so much praised nor esteemed, as the true and faithful Travels, which I sustain for to merit her place. For obtaining of the which against my Nature, I betray them that 
Bothwel's own Wife.  may impeach me. God forgive me, and God give you, my only Love, the Hap and Prosperity, which your humble and faithful Love desires of you, who hopes to be shortly another thing to you for the reward of my irksome Travels. It is late, I desire never to cease from writing unto you, yet now after the kissing of your Hands, I will end my Letter. Excuse my evil Writing, and Read it twice over. Excuse that thing that is scribbled, for I had no Paper yesterday when I writ that of the Memorial. Remember your Love, and write unto her, and that very oft. Love me as I shall do you. Remember you of the purpose of the Lady Reres, of the Englishmen, of his Mother, of the Earl of Argile, of the Earl Bothwell, of the Lodging in Edinburgh.    

Another Letter to Bothwell, concerning certain Tokens that she sent him.  

Monsieur,  
SI l'envy de vostre absence, celuy de vostre oubly, la crainte du danger, tant prouve d' un chacun à vostre tant amée personne, &c.   

My Lord,  
IF the displeasure of your Absence, of your Forgetfulness, the fear of danger so promised by every one to your so loved Person, may give me Consolation, I leave it to you to judge, seeing the mishap that my cruel lot and continual misadventure, has hitherto promised me following the misfortunes and fears as well of late as of a long time bypast, the which you do know. But for all that I will in no wise accuse you, neither of your little remembrance, neither of your little care, and least of all your Promise broken, or of the coldness of your Writing, since I am else so far made yours, that that which pleases you is acceptable to me, and my thoughts are so willingly subdued unto yours, that I suppose that all that cometh of you, proceeds not of any of the Causes aforesaid, but rather for such as be just and reasonable, and such as I desire myself. Which is the final Order that you promised to take, for the surety and honourable Service of the only Supporter of my life: for which alone I will preserve the same, and without the which I desire not but sudden Death. And to testify unto you how lowly I submit me under your Commandments, I have sent you in sign of homage by Pareis, the Ornament of the Head, which is 
A Head.  the chief guide of the other Members; inferring thereby, that by the seizing of you in the possession of the spoil of that which is principal, the remnant cannot be but subject unto you, and with consenting of the heart. In place whereof, since I have else left it unto you, I send unto you one Sepulture of hard stone coloured with black, sawin with tears and bones. The stone I compare to my Heart, that as it is carved in one sure Sepulture or harbour of your Commandments, and above 
The Queen's Heart.  all of your Name and Memory, that are therein enclosed, as is my Heart in this Ring, never to come forth while Death grant unto you one Trophy of Victory of my Bones, as the Ring is filled, in sign you have made one full Conquest of me, of mine Heart, and unto that my Bones are left unto you, in remembrance of your Victory, and my acceptable love and willingness, for to be better bestowed than I merit. The ameling that is about is black, which signifies the steadfastness of her that sendeth the same. The tears are without number, so are the fears to displease you; the tears for your Absence, the disdain that I cannot be in outward effect yours, as I am without faintness of Heart and Spirit, and of good reason, though my Merits were much greater than that of the most profit that ever was, and such as I desire to be, and shall take pains in Conditions to imitate, for to be bestowed worthily under your Regiment▪ My only Wealth, receive therefore in as good part the same, as I have received your Marriage with extreme Joy, that which shall not part forth of my bosom while that Marriage of our Bodies be made in public, as sign of all that I either hope or desire of Bliss in this World. Yet, my Heart, fearing to displease you, as much in the reading hereof, as it delights me in the writing, I will make an end, after that I have kissed your Hand, with as great affection as I pray God (O the only supporter of my Life) to give you long and blessed Life, and to me your good Favour, as the only good that I desire, and to the which I pretend: I have shown unto this Bearer that which I have learned, to whom I remit me, knowing the Credit that you give him, as she doth, that will be for ever unto you an humble and obedient lawful Wife, that for ever dedicates unto you her Heart, her Body, without any Change as unto him that I have made Possessor of my Heart, of which you may hold you assured, that unto the Death shall no ways be changed for; evil nor good shall never make me go from it.    

Another Letter to Bothwell of her Love to him.  

JAy veillé plus tard la haut que je n' eusse fait, si ce n'eust este pour tirer ce que ce porteur vous dira, que je treuve la plus belle commodité pour excuser vostre affaire qui ce pourroit presenter, &c.   

I Have waked later there up then I would have done, if it had notbeen to draw something out of him, which this Bearer will show you, which is the fairest Commodity, that can be offered to excuse your Affairs. I have promised to bring him to him in the Morn. Put order to it if you find it good. Now Sir, I have broken my Promise, because you commanded me neither to write nor send unto you; yet I have not done this to offend you. And if you knew the fear that I have presently, you would not have so many contrary suspicions in your thought, which notwithstanding I treat and cherish as proceeding from the thing in the World that I most desire and seek fastest to have, which is your good Grace. Of the which my Behaviour shall assure me; as to me I shall never despair of it. And prays you according to your Promise to discharge your Heart unto me; otherwise I will think that my evil and the good handling of her that has not the third part of the Faithful, nor willing Obedience unto you that I bear, has won against my will that advantage over me, which the second Love of jason won. Not that I will compare you to one so unhappy as he was, nor yet myself to one so unpitiful a Woman as she. Howbeit you cause me to be somewhat like unto her in any thing that touches you, or that may preserve and keep you unto her, to whom only you appertain; if it be so that I may appropriate that which is won through faithful, yea only loving of you, as I do and shall do all the days of my life, for pain or evil that can come thereof. In recompense of the which, and of all the evils which you have been cause of to me, remember you upon the place here beside. I crave with that you keep Promise to me in the Morn, but that we may meet together, and that you give no faith to suspicions without the certainty of them. And I crave no other thing of God, but that you may know that thing that is in my Heart, which is yours, and that he may preserve you from all evil, at least so long as I have life, which I repute not precious unto me, except in so far as it and I both are agreeable unto you: I am going to bed, and will bid you good Night. Advertise me timely in the Morning how you have fared, for I will be in pain until I get word. Make good watch, if the Bird get out of the Cage, or without her Mate, as the Turtle, I shall remain alone to lament your absence how short that soever it be. This Letter will do with a good Heart that thing, which I cannot do myself, if it be not that I have fear that you are in sleeping. I durst not write this before joseph, Bastian, and joachim, that did but depart even when I began to write.    

Another Letter to Bothwel concerning the departure of Margaret Carwood, who was privy and a helper of all their love.  

MOn coeur helas! faul li que la follie d' une femme, dont vous cognoissez assez l' in gratitude vers moy, soit cause de vous donner deplasir, &c.   

MY heart, alas, must the folly of a woman whose thankfulness toward me you do sufficiently know, be occasion of displeasure unto you? considering that I could not have remedied thereunto without knowing it? And since that I perceive it, I could not tell it you, for that I knew not how to govern myself therein. For neither in that, nor in any other thing, will I take upon me to do any thing without knowledge of your will. Which I beseech you let me understand, for I will follow it all my life, more willingly than you shall declare it to me. And if you do not send me word this night what you will that I shall do, I will rid myself of it, and hazard to cause it to be enterprised and taken in hand; which might be hurtful unto that whereunto both we do tend. And when she shall be married, I beseech you give me one, or else I will take such as shall content you, for their conditions, but as for their tongues or faithfulness toward you, I will not answer. I beseech you that an opinion of another person be not hurtful in your mind to my constancy. Mistrust me, but then I will put you out of doubt and clear myself. Refuse it not, my dear life, and suffer me to make you some proof by my obedience, my faithfulness, constancy, and voluntary subjection, which I take for the pleasantest good that I might receive, if you will accept it, and make no ceremony at it, for you could do me no greater outrage, nor give more mortal grief.    

Another Letter sent from Sterling to Bothwell, concerning the practice for her Ravishment.  

MOnsieur helas pourquoy est vostre fiance mise en pessonné si indigne, pour so up conner ce qui est entierement vostre. I' enrage, vous m' aviez promise, &c.   

ALas, my Lord, why is your trust put in a person so unworthy, to mistrust that which is wholly yours? I am mad. You had promised me that you would resolve all, and that you would send me word every day what I should do, you have done nothing thereof. I advertised you well to take heed of your false Brother in law; he came to me, and without showing me any thing from you, told me that you had willed him to write to you that that I should say, and where and when you should come to me, and that that you should do touching him, and thereupon hath preached unto me that it was a foolish enterprise, and that with mine honour I could never marry you, seeing that being married you did carry me away, and that his folks would not suffer it, and that the Lords would unsay themselves, and would deny that they had said. To be short, he is all contrary. I told him, that seeing I was come so far, if you not withdraw yourself of yourself, that no persuasion nor death itself should make me fail of my promise. As touching the place, you are too negligent (pardon me) to remit yourself thereof unto me. Choose it yourself, and send me word of it. And in the mean time I am sick, I will differ, as touching the matter it is too late. It was not long of me that you have not thought thereupon in time. And if you had not more changed your mind since mine absence than I have, you should not be now to ask such resolving. Well there wanteth nothing of my part, and seeing that your negligence doth put us both in the danger of a false Brother, if it succeed not well, I will never rise again. I send this Bearer unto you, for I dare not trust your Brother with these Letters nor with the business. He shall tell you in what state I am, and judge you what amendment these new ceremonies have brought unot me. I would I were dead, for I see all goeth ill. You promised other manner of matter of your foreseeing, but absence hath power over you, 
Another wife.  who have two strings to your bow. Dispatch the Answer, that I fail not, and put no trust in your Brother for his enterprise, for he hath told it, and is also quite against it. God give you good night.    

Another Letter to Bothwell for the Practice and Device to excuse the Ravishing.  

DU lieu & de l'heure je m' en rap porte à vostre frere & à vous, je le suiuray & ne fauldray en rien de ma part. Il trouve beauc oup de difficultez, &c.   

OF the Place and Time, I remit myself to your Brother and to you. I will follow him, and will fail in nothing of my part. He findeth many Difficulties; I think he doth advertise you thereof: and what he doth advertise you for the handling of himself. As for the handling of myself I heard it once well devised. Methinks that your Services, and the long A mity, having the good will of the Lords, do well deserve a Pardon, if above the duty of a Subject you advance yourself, not to constrain me, but to assure yourself of such place nigh unto me, that other Admonitions or foreign Persuasions may not let me from consenting to that that you hope your Service shall make you one day to attain; and to be short, to make yourself sure of the Lords, and free to Marry: and that you are constrained for your surety, and to be able to serve me faithfully, to use an humble Request, joined to an importune Action. And to be short, excuse yourself, and persuade them the most you can, that you are constrained to make pursuit against your Enemies. You shall say enough, if the Matter or Ground do like you, and many fair words to Ledinton▪ If you like not the Deed send me word, and leave not the blame of all unto me.     

Another Letter to Bothwell of the Practice for her Ravishment, and to advise him to be strange to do it.  

MOnsieur depuis ma lettre escrit vostre beau frere qui fust, est venu à moy fort triste, & m' à demandé mon counseil de ce qu' il feroit apres demain, &c.   

MY Lord, since my Letter written, your Brother-in-law that was, came to me very sad, and both asked me my counsel, what he should do after to morrow, because there be many Folks here, and among others the Earl of Southerland, who would rather die, considering the good they have so lately received of me, than suffer me to be carried away, they conducting me; and that he feared there should some trouble happen of it: of the other side, that it should be said that he were unthankful to have betrayed me. I told him that he should have resolved with you upon all that: and that he should avoid, if he could, those that were most mistrusted. He hath resolved to write thereof to you of my opinion; for he hath abashed me to see him so unresolved at the r●ed. I assure myself, he will play the part of an honest Man. But I have thought good to advertise you of the fear he hath, that he should be charged and accused of Treason, to the end, that without mistrusting him, you may be the more circumspect, and that you may have the more power: For we had yesterday more than three hundred Horse of Kiss, and of Leniston. For the Honour of God be accompanied rather with more than less; for that is the principal of my Care. I go to write my dispatch, and pray God to send us an happy interview shortly. I write in haste, to the end you may be advised in time.    

Of the Bills of Proclamation and Combat, set up by Bothwell, and the Answers.  
IMmediately after the Death of the King, who was Murdered, and his House blown up with Gunpowder, the Ninth Day of February in the Night, 1567. Proclamation was made, That whosoever could bewray the cruel Murderers of the King should have two thousand Pounds. Unto the which Proclamation, reply was made, and set up privily upon the Tol-Booth Door of Edinburgh, the Sixteenth of February in this manner.  

BEcause Proclamation is made, That whosoever will reveal the Murderers of the King shall have two thousand Pounds, I who have made inquisition by them that were the doers thereof, affirm that the Committers of it were the Earl Bothwell, Master james Balfoure, the Parson of 
If this be not true spear at Gilbert Bawfoord.  Flisk, Mr. David Chambers, Black Mr. john Spence, who was principal deviser of the Murder, and the Queen assenting thereto through the persuasion of the Earl Bothwell, and the Witchcraft of the Lady Bucklough.   
UPon this, new Proclamation was made the same Day, desiring the setter up of the said Bill to come and avow and subscribe the same, and he should have the Sum promised in the first Proclamation, and further according to his Ability, and sight of the Queen, and her Counsel.  
The answer thereunto was set up in the place aforesaid, the morrow after, being the Nineteenth of the same Month.  

FOrasmuch as Proclamation hath been made since the setting up of my first Letter, desiring me to subscribe, and avow the same; for answer, I desire the Money to be consigned into an evenly Man's hand, and I shall appear on Sunday next with some four with me, and subscribe my first Letter, and abide thereat. And further I desire that Senior Francis Bastian, and joseph the Queen's Goldsmith be stayed, and I shall declare what every Man did in particular, with their Complices.   
To which Bill no Answer was made.  
THE Thirteenth Day of April the Earl Bothwell coming to the Sessions at Edinburgh, with an Ensign displayed, and the Streets full of armed Men of his Faction, was arraigned for Murder of the King, and acquit of the same by a perjured Jury: whereupon he set up a Challenge to fight hand to hand with any Man, (being no Person defamed) that would avow the matter.  
Hereunto answer was made by another Bill set up in the same place anon after.  
That forasmuch as the said Earl Bothwell had set up a Writing, subscribed with his own hand, whereby he did Challenge any Man (not defamed) that would or durst say he was guilty of the King's Death, and therewithal did give the Lie in his Throat to him that would avouch the Quarrel: a Gentleman, and a Man of good Fame, did by those Presents accept the offer and offers, and would prove by the Law of Arms, that he was the chief Author of that foul and horrible Murder, albeit an inquest for fear of Death had slightly quit him. And because the King of France, and the Queen of England had by their Ambassadors desired that Trial and Punishment might be had for the same, he most heartily therefore craved of their Majesties, that they would desire of the Queen his Sovereign, that by her Consent they might appoint their day and place within the Dominions for the trial thereof according to the Law of Arms, in their presences, or in their Deputies. Which day and place he promised by the faith of a Gentleman to appear at, and to his devoir, provided always that their Majesties by open Proclamation shall give assurance to him and to his company, to pass and repass through their Countries, without hurt or impediment. What just cause he had to desire the King of France and the Queen of England to be Judges in the Case, he remitted to the Judgement of the Readers and the hearers, warning by those presents the rest of the murderers to prepare themselves, for they should have the like offer mad eunto them, and their names given in writing, that they might be known unto all men.   

The Confession of John Habroun, young Talla, Dagleish and Pourie, upon whom was justice executed, the third of January, the year of God 1567.  
JOhn Bowton confessed, that nine was at the deed doing, my Lord Bothwell, the Lord of Ormiston, Hob Ormiston, himself, Talla, Daglish, Vilson, Pourie, and French Paris, and that he saw no more, nor knew of no other companies.  
Item, he knows no other but that that he was blown in the Air, for he was handled with no men's hands as he saw, and if it was, it was with others, and not with them.  
Item, as touching Sir james Balfour, he saw not his Subscription, but I warrant you he was the principal Counsellor and deviser.  
Item, he said, I confess that it is the very providence of God that has brought me to his Judgement, for I am led to it as an horse to the stall, for I had ships provided to fly but could not escape.  
Item, he said, let no man do evil for counsel of great men, or their Masters, thinking they shall save them, for surely I thought that night that the deed was done, that although knowledge should be got, no man durst have said it was evil done, seeing the hand writ, and acknowledging the Queen's mind thereto.  
Item, Speaking of the Queen in the Tol-booth, he said, God make all well, but the longer dirt is hidden it is the stronger. Who Lives, our Deaths will be thought no news.  
Item, In the Conclusion he confessed, he was one of the principal doers of the Death, and therefore is justly worthy of Death, but he was assured of the Mercy of God, who called him to repentance.  
ITem, Talla confessed ut supra, agreeing in all Points as concerning the Persons, number, and blowing up into the Air.  
Item, He affirmed, that in Seton my Lord Bothwell called on him, and said, What thought you when you saw him blown in the Air? Who answered, Alas, my Lord, why speak you that? for when ever I hear such a thing, the words wound me to death, as they ought to do you.  
Item, That same time he saw Sir james Balfour put in his own name and his Brother's unto my Lord Bothwel's Remission.  
Item, He knew of the Deed doing three or four days ere it was done, or thereabout.  
Item, He said, after that I came to the Court, I left the reading of God's Word, and embraced Vanity, and therefore has God justly brought this on me.  
Wherefore let all Men eat evil Company, and to trust not in Men, for ready are we to embrace evil, as ready as Tinder to receive fire. And further in the Tol-booth he required john Brand, Minister of the Congregation, to pass to my Lord Lindsey, and say, My Lord, heartily I forgive your Lordship, and also my Lord Regent and all others, but specially them that betrayed me to you; for I know if you could have saved me you would, desiring as ye will answer before God at the later Day to do your diligence to bring the rest who were the beginners of this Work to Justice, as ye have done to me; for ye know it was not begun in my head, but yet he praises God that his Justice has begun at me, by the which he has called me to repentance.  
ITem, Dagleish said, as God shall be my Judge, I knew nothing of the King's Death before it was done, for my Lord Bothwell going to his Bed, after the taking off of his Hose, which was stocked with Velvet, French Paris came and spoke with him, and after that he tarried on me for other Hose● and clothes, and his riding Cloak and Sword, which I gave him, and after that came up to the Gate to the Lord of Ormiston's Lodging, and tarried for him, and thereafter that he passed to a Place beside the Black Friars, and came to the slope of the Dike, where he bid me stand still; and as God shall be my Judge, I knew nothing while I heard the Blast of Powder; and after this he came home, lay down in his Bed, while Mr. George Hacket came and knocked at the Door; and if I die for this, the which God Judge me if I knew more, what shall be done to the Devisers, Counsellors, Subscribers and Fortifiers of it?    
FINIS.