and there imprisoned as though they had been guilty of great crimes; moreover, the hedges and ditches of commons enclosed were demolished, and many were charged and forced to assist in these things; the mayor, Mr Watson, and Mr Aldrich, were not only obliged to wink thereat, but sometimes to seem to consent thereto : for to have resisted them had been but folly and the way to have put themselves in danger of destruction, and their country too. The city took what care they could to guard themselves, hoping daily for relief from the Council, without which they dared attempt nothing. Now the reason why the Council were so slack in sending succours was, because they were not only troubled with these rebels, but were busied about quieting the like troubles in the inner part of the realm, about London, Surrey, Essex, Devonshire, Kent, Cambridgeshire, &c. In the meantime the sedition increased daily, so much that there were now no less than 16,000 of these rebels in the camp, who by the advice of their captain fortified themselves, providing powder, ball, and all manner of weapons, which they fetched out of ships, gentlemen's houses, shops, and other places where any was to be found; and withal spoiled the country of all the cattle, riches, and coin, that they could lay their hands on.

Now, because many of them hid what they got, hoping hereafter to convert it to their own private use, Ket and the other governors (for so they would be called) by common consent decreed, that some place should be fixed upon where they might do justice. Now the Oak of Reformation being an old tree with large spreading boughs, they fixed on it cross balks and rafts, and roofed it over with boards, and from thence Ket, the mayor, Master Aldrich, and other gentlemen, detained prisoners in the camp (whom against their wills they had chosen into the number of their governors), heard and determined all complaints and disorders done among themselves; and, if those who had concealed any goods, gotten by virtue of Ket's pretended commissions, were discovered, and the fact proved here, they were committed to prison.

The mayor, Master Aldrich, and others, would often go up into this trec, and endeavour by all the persuasive and mild arguments they could think of, to make them desist from this course, and leave off committing such outrages. There were also divers grave and learned divines that tried all ways possible to withdraw them from these wicked attempts, and to reduce them to peace and quietness, though at the same time they hazarded their lives by so doing; for the mayor and other of the gentry, though they were admitted to the counsels of the rebels, for the better credit thereof, yet if Ket was present were no better than 'herbe John in the pottage,' having no influence on their consultations; but, if he happily chanced to be absent, then they were like St John's wort (so sovereign for sores and against the plague itself), that they much mitigated the fury of their mischievous decrees. Mean time great plenty was in the camp, where a fat sheep was sold for a groat, but penury and misery in all other places.

In this great calamity (notwithstanding the upbraiding of Sir John Cheke, who knew little of the matter but by hearsay only,) the mayor, aldermen, and principal citizens, with the city clergy, behaved with the utmost allegiance to

the king, and the greatest prudence for the safeguard of their city and country, the former by consulting daily what was best to be done, and the latter by preaching by day in the camp and churches, and by watching in the night with armour on their backs, so that nothing that belonged to them as faithful subjects and worthy ministers was at any time omitted. So far were they from deserving that unjust censure of Sir John's, that it was not the principal part of the city that were for the rebels, but only the scum of it, there being not one (that I have met with) of any figure or character, that sided with them, though indeed there was a great number of the populace that favoured them; and the state of the city was such that it was not in the power of the magistrates to keep the city against them, as Excester did, with whose conduct Sir John upbraids this place: but it is evident that, had they been able to have done it before, they would have done it, for upon succours coming they immediately put themselves in a posture of offence, till which time it was impossible to do more than they did, which was to stand upon the point of defence. And though the aforesaid author exclaims against Norwich in relation to the affair of the Marquis of Northampton's miscarriage, and justly extols Excester for her prowesse, yet if we come to examine things, as we shall find the one deservedly praised, so we shall see the other as undeservedly and unjustly upbraided.

(To be continued.)

SIR PHILIP SYDNEY.

'Sydney without stain.'

Plaint of Freedom.

COURTIER and the admired of courtiers, the accomplished servant of most imperious Elizabeth, what claim has Sir Philip Sydney to a niche in the temple of the English Republic? He was a gentleman. The best Republican can be no more. If he understood not the better organization of Humanity (though indeed his poet soul must have mirrored some forms of the world's future harmony) yet his own life was worthy of the noblest time. And more especially would we select him now for honour, since of late have been found some to throw reproach upon his spotless shield.

'SIR PHILIP SYDNEY has ever been a petted hero of the English people. His name is a dear, familiar word; he is our English knight "sans peur et sans reproche." More than any other man, perhaps, he is England personified. In his life the fondled idol of his age, he died greater even than he had lived,— died to become the idol of all ages. In him Chivalry expired. We had heroes after him, heroes of sterner stuff and grander fortunes-Cromwell and Blake,

Ireton and Vane,-but these were not the heroes of romance and poesy. They were strong men, with strong convictions and a solemn purpose,―men who rose into the grade of heroes, not knowing how or caring wherefore,-heroes by duty and success, not by deliberate culture, effort, and aspiration, like the brighter and more graceful champions of an earlier epoch. In his own person Sir Philip Sydney is the fullest, most complete and perfect character in the long and glorious line of British Worthies. He stands alone-erect. You may walk round him as you walk round an antique statue. However viewed, the figure of the hero shows a perfect front. As poet, soldier, statesman, courtier, nowhere does the sharpest eye discover fault. All his parts seem equal to each other. Take the historic lineaments at any turn, uuder every light, and they appear to stand against the golden-hued and gorgeous background of the time, graceful, and round, and noble.

'France is justly proud of its Bayard, as of one who created an order loftier than that of kings. But with no disparagement of the Dauphinois, we may rank the English hero higher than the renowned cavalier of the neighbouring country. Bayard was a soldier only, a gallant soldier, polished, generous, noble,—a man with all the merits of the camp: but take him from tented field and he was nothing. Not so Sydney. Great with the sword, he was not less great with the pen. As he could sing, so could he act, heroically. His perfections had larger scope and more attractiveness: for his words were ever as royal as his thought. The soul of Bayard was possibly as chivalric as that of Sydney. But Bayard never said so fine a thing as the English hero, when he caught the eye of the dying soldier fixed on the water at which his own parched lips were placed :—“ Take it: thy need is greater than mine." There spoke the poet as well as the hero.

'Never before and never since his time has England seen a man so armed at every point. All the crowns of fortune seemed to have been heaped at Sydney's feet. Rank, beauty, grace, attainments,-royal favour, courtly influence, worldly success, the respect or envy of the most celebrated men, the adoring fondness of the most beautiful women,-poetical renown, military honour, diplomatic employments: everything conspired to mark him as the darling son of fortune. His life was passed like a summer day. It was all sunlight, warmth, success: and even his death was surrounded with the poetic splendours of a summer sunset.

'One man alone resembled him in gifts and graces-Raleigh. He, too, was poet, soldier, conrtier, scholar, all in one. He, too, like Sydney, rivalled all contemporary fames, took something from each, combined the several powers and excellences of other men, made himself the common centre at which all the lines of English greatness met. And yet how far apart, how various were their fates and fortunes! How far removed the prison dungeon from the brighter field of fame,-how sad the contrast between the block in Palace-Yard with the bloody headsman, and Leicester's gorgeous tent under the walls of Zutphen! 'Sydney was the poet of his time. Of the great band of poets, his rivals and contemporaries, he was beyond all question first in favour with a class the grave in thought, the high in tone, the pure in heart. He had cast