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The Mystery of Mary Stuart

Chapter 28: APPENDIX E
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About This Book

The author reexamines the contested evidence surrounding a high-profile royal death, concentrating on the authenticity and chronology of incriminating correspondence and private papers. He compares competing transcripts, recently surfaced manuscripts, and contemporary dispatches to show how prosecutors and defenders built their cases, highlights anomalies that suggest interpolation or forgery in a notorious letter while allowing that parts may be genuine, and proposes revised datings to reconcile inconsistencies. The account combines documentary analysis with discussion of political motives and procedural gaps, and concludes that definitive judgment remains elusive pending further evidence.

APPENDIX C

THE DATE OF MARY’S VISIT TO GLASGOW

The question of the possibility that Letter II. may be authentic turns on dates. If the Lords are right in declaring, in ‘Cecil’s Journal,’ that Mary left Edinburgh on January 21, 1567, and arrived in Glasgow on January 23, then the evidence of the Letter is incompatible with that of Paris, and one or both testimonies must be abandoned. They fare no better if we accept the statement of Drury, writing from Berwick, that Mary entered Glasgow on January 22. It is shown in the text that, if we accept the date as given in Birrel’s ‘Diary,’ and also in the ‘Diurnal of Occurrents’: if we make Mary leave Edinburgh on January 20, and (contrary to Drury and ‘Cecil’s Journal’) make her enter Glasgow on January 21, then the Letter may be brought into harmony with the statement of Paris.

Of course it may be argued that the ‘Diurnal’ and Birrel’s ‘Diary’ coincide in an error of date. The ‘Diary’ of Birrel describes itself as extending from 1532 to 1605. One man cannot have kept a daily note of events for seventy-three years. The ‘Diary,’ in fact, is not a daily record. There is but one entry for 1561, one for 1562, one for 1565, ten for 1566, and twenty-four for 1567; up to Mary’s surrender at Carberry (June 15). The ‘Diurnal,’ for our period, is more copious, and is by a contemporary, though probably he did not always write his remarks on the day of the occurrence noted.

From August 19, 1561, to June 15, 1567, the ‘Diurnal’ and the ‘Diary’ record in common twenty-one events, with date. In seven of these cases they differ, as to date. They differ as to the day of Mary’s departure from Edinburgh to Jedburgh, as to the departure of the ambassadors from Stirling, as to the arrival of Mary with her infant child in Edinburgh (January, 1567), as to the return of Mary and Darnley from Glasgow, as to the day of Darnley’s burial, as to the day of opening Parliament, and as to the attack on Borthwick Castle by the Lords: while the ‘Diurnal’ makes the explosion at Kirk o’ Field occur at 2 A.M. on February 10, but ends the Parliament on April 29, which is absurd. When the dates are correctly known from other sources, and when the ‘Diary’ and the ‘Diurnal’ coincide as to these dates, then, of course, we may accept their authority. But when, as in the case of Mary’s departure from Edinburgh, and arrival in Glasgow, the ‘Diary’ and ‘Diurnal’ oppose ‘Cecil’s Journal,’ and Drury’s version, every reader must estimate the value of their coincidence for himself. If their date, January 20, is correct, then a letter may have been written, and sent, and received, and the facts, so far, are corroborated by Paris’s deposition.

The argument of Chalmers, that Mary was at Edinburgh till January 24, because there are entries as if of her presence there in the Register of Privy Seal, is not valid, as such entries were occasionally made in the absence of the King or Queen.

 

 


APPENDIX D

THE BAND FOR DARNLEY’S MURDER

This Band, which is constantly cited in all the troubles from 1567 to 1586, is a most mysterious document. We have seen that Mary’s secretary, Nau, wilfully or accidentally confuses it with an anti-Darnley band signed by Morton, Moray, and many others, early in October, 1566. We have also seen that Randolph, in 1570, distinguishes between this ‘old band’ and the band for the murder, which, he says, Lethington and Balfour abstracted from a little coffer in the Castle, covered with green cloth or velvet, immediately after Mary surrendered at Carberry. I have ventured the theory that this carefully covered little coffer may have been the Casket itself.[415] Drury, again, in November, 1567, reports that the band has been burned, while the papers as to Mary are ‘kept to be shewn.’ But, in Scotland, till Morton’s execution in June, 1581, the murder band was believed to be extant: at least Sir James Balfour, if he chose, could give evidence about it. What Mary wished to be believed as to this matter, we have seen in Nau, who wrote under her inspiration between 1575 and 1587. He asserts that Bothwell, ‘to ease his conscience’ gave Mary a copy of the band, when he rode away from Carberry (June 15, 1567). He showed Mary the signatures of Morton, Balfour, Lethington, and others. She kept the document, and, when she met Morton on Carberry Hill, told him that he was one of the chief murderers, as she had learned. He slunk away.[416] Probably Mary did accuse Morton, at Carberry. When he was executed (June 3, 1581) Sir John Foster, from Alnwick, sent an account of the trial to Walsingham. In the evidence against Morton was ‘the Queen’s confession when she was taken at Carberry Hill. She said he was the principal man that was the deed-doer, and the drawer of that purpose.’ Morton certainly was not present, and it is as good as certain that he did not sign the band. Still, Mary, at Carberry, charged him with complicity.[417]

We have seen that Mary, ever after Carberry, also inculpated Lethington, and vowed that she had something in black and white which would hang him. Something she probably did possess, but not a band signed also by Morton. Concerning the murder-band, Hay of Tala, before execution (January 3, 1568), ‘in presence of the whole people,’ named as subscribers ‘Bothwell, Huntly, Argyll, Lethington, Balfour, with divers other nobles.’[418] Hay saw their signatures, but not that of Morton. ‘He said my Lord Bothwell said to him that he subscribed the same.’ The Black Laird (December 13, 1573), when in a devout and penitent condition, said that Bothwell had shown him the contract, ‘subscribed by four or five handwrites, which, he affirmed to me, was the subscription of the Earl of Huntly, Argyll, the secretary Maitland, and Sir James Balfour.’ Ormistoun repeated part of the contents: the paper was drawn up by Balfour, a Lord of Session.[419] (See Introduction, pp. xiii-xviii.)

Morton, we know, was accused of Darnley’s death, and arrested, at the end of December, 1580. Archibald Douglas was sought for, but escaped into England. Elizabeth sent Randolph down to save Morton: Hunsdon was to lead an army over the Border. Every kind of violence was designed, and forgery was attempted, but Randolph had to fly to Berwick, at the end of March. Meanwhile the arch traitor, Balfour, had been summoned from France, as an evidence against Morton. But he was not of much use. On January 30, 1581, he wrote from Edinburgh to Mary. He had arrived in Scotland on December 17, 1580, when he found Morton in the height of power. Balfour secretly approached James’s new favourite, Stewart d’Aubigny, recently created Earl of Lennox. By giving them information ‘had from your Majesty’s self, and partly by other intelligence which I knew and learned from others,’ he gave them grounds for Morton’s arrest. But Morton, he says, trusting to the lack of testimony from the absence of Archibald Douglas, boldly ‘denies all things promised by him to Bothwell in that matter,’ ‘except his signature to the band whereof I did send the copy to your Majesty.’ Now that was only ‘Ainslie’s band,’ made after the murder, on April 19, 1567, to defend Bothwell’s quarrel. On an extant copy Randolph has written, ‘upon this was grounded thacusation of therle Morton.’[420] This was no hanging matter, and Balfour either had not or would not produce the murder band. He therefore asks Mary for further information: ‘all that your Majesty has heard or known thereinto.’[421]

Balfour and Mary corresponded in cypher through Archbishop Beaton, her ambassador in France. On March 18, 1580, she had written to Beaton, ‘if possible make Balfour write to me fully about the band which he has seen, with the signatures, for the murder of my late husband, the King, or let him give you a copy in his own hand.’ If she really possessed the band which Nau says Bothwell gave her at Carberry, she needed no copy from Balfour. She does not seem to have believed in him and his band. On May 20, 1580, she writes to Beaton: ‘I put no faith in what Balfour has sent me, so far, and cannot trust him much having been so wretchedly betrayed by him,’ for Balfour had put Morton on the trail of the Casket, had sold the Castle, and later, had betrayed Kirkcaldy and Lethington when they held the Castle against Morton. However, she sent to Balfour a civil message, and bade him go on undermining Morton, in which he succeeded, in the following year. But the murder-band was never produced. On March 16, 1581, Randolph described a conference which had passed between him and James VI. ‘I spoke again of the band in the green box, containing the names of all the chief persons consenting to the King’s murder, which Sir James Balfour either hath or can tell of.’ Randolph, who was working for Morton, obviously knew that he did not sign that band: otherwise he would have avoided the subject.[422]

We have no account of Morton’s trial, save what Foster tells Walsingham. ‘The murder of the King was laid to him by four or five witnesses. The first is the Lord Bothwell’s Testament’ (usually thought to be forged), ‘the second, Mr. Archibald Douglas, when he was his man.’ But Douglas, surely, dared not appear in Court, or in Scotland. Foster clearly means that Archibald’s servant, Binning, proved his guilt, and that it reflected on Morton, whose ‘man’ Archibald was, in 1567, and later. Next came the charge that Morton ‘spoke with’ Bothwell, as he confessed that he did, at Whittingam, about January 20, 1567, when he says that he declined to join the plot without Mary’s written warrant. How could this be known, except through Mary or Archibald Douglas? Possibly his brother, at whose house the conference was held, may have declared the matter, as he ‘split,’ in 1581, on Archibald, and all concerned. ‘And then’ Morton was condemned on ‘the consenting to the murder of the King’ (how was that proved?), on Ainslie’s band to support Bothwell’s quarrel, ‘no person being excepted,’ and finally, ‘the Queen’s confession at Carberry Hill,’ when she confessed nothing, but accused Morton.

Mary’s conduct, as far as it can be construed, looks as if she knew very little either about Morton or the murder-band. If Bothwell told her anything, what he told her was probably more or less untrue.

 

 


APPENDIX E

THE TRANSLATIONS OF THE CASKET LETTERS

The casual treatment of the Casket Letters by Mary’s accusers, and by the English Commissioners, is demonstrated by an inspection of the texts as they now exist. One thing is absolutely certain, the Letters were produced, at Westminster and Hampton Court, in the original French, whether that was forged, or garbled, or authentic. This is demonstrated by the occurrence, in the English translation, of the words ‘I have taken the worms out of his nose.’ This ugly French phrase for extracting a man’s inmost thoughts is used by Mary in an authentic letter.[423] But the Scots version of the passage runs, ‘I have drawn all out of him.’ Therefore the English translator had a French original before him, not the French later published by the Huguenots, where for tiré les vers du nez, we find j’ay sçeu toutes choses de luy.

Original French letters were therefore produced; the only doubt rests on part of Crawford’s deposition, where it verbally agrees with Letter II. But we may here overlook Crawford’s part in the affair, merely reminding the reader that the French idioms in that portion of the Letter (Scots version) which most closely resembles his very words, in his deposition, may have come in through the process of translating Crawford’s Scots into French, and out of French into Scots again, to which we return.

The Casket Letters were produced, in French, on December 7 and 8. On December 9, the English Commissioners read them, ‘being duly translated into English.’[424] We are never told that the Scottish Lords prepared and produced the English translations. These must have been constructed on December 7 and 8, in a violent hurry. So great was the hurry that Letter VI. was not translated from French at all: the English was merely done, and badly done, out of the Scots. Thus, Scots, ‘I am wod;’ English, ‘I am wood.’ As far as this Letter goes, there need have been no original French text.[425] In this case (Letter VI.) the English is the Scots Anglified, word for word. The same easy mode of translating French is used in Letter V.; it is the Scots done word for word into English. In Letters I. and II., M. Philippson makes it pretty clear that the English translator had a copy of the Scots version lying by him, from which he occasionally helped himself to phrases. M. Cardauns, in Der Sturz der Maria Stuart, had proved the same point, which every one can verify. Dozens of blunders occur in the English versions, though, now and then, they keep closer to the originals than do the Scots translators.

Of this we give a singular and significant proof. In the Scots of Letter I. the first sentence ends, ‘Ze promisit to mak me advertisement of zour newis from tyme to tyme.’ The next sentence begins: ‘The waiting upon yame.’ In the English we read ‘at your departure you promised to send me newes from you. Nevertheless I can learn none:’ which is not in the Scots, but is in the published French, ‘et toutes fois je n’en puis apprendre.’ The published French is translated from the Latin, which is translated from the Scots, but each of the French published letters opens with a sentence or two from the original French: thus the published French, in one of these sentences, keeps what the Scots omits.

Therefore, the Scots translator undeniably, in the first paragraph of Letter I., omitted a clause which was in his French original, and is in the English translation. Consequently, when, in the same short letter, the English has, and the Scots has not, ‘to Ledington, to be delivered to you,’ we cannot, as most critics do, and as Herr Bresslau does, infer that Lethington had that mention of him deliberately excised from the Scots version, as likely to implicate him in the murder. It did not implicate him. Surely a Queen may write to her Secretary of State, on public affairs, even if she is planning a murder with her First Lord of the Admiralty. When the Scots translator omits a harmless clause, by inadvertence, in line 6, he may also, by inadvertence, omit another in line 41.

From these facts it follows that we cannot acquit Lethington of a possible share in the falsification of the Letters, merely because a reference to him, in the original French, existed, and was omitted in the Scots text. He need not have struck out the clause about himself, because the Scots translator, we see, actually omits another clause by sheer inadvertence. In the same way Mr. Henderson’s text of the Casket Letters exhibits omissions of important passages, by inadvertence in copying.

Again, we can found no argument on omissions or changes, in the English versions. That text omits (in Letter II.), what we find in the Scots, the word yesternight, in the clause ‘the King sent for Joachim yesternight.’ M. Philippson argues that this was an intentional omission, to hide from the English commissioners the incongruity of the dates. The translators, and probably the commissioners, did not look into things so closely. The English translators made many omissions and other errors, because they were working at top speed, and Cecil’s marginal corrections deal with very few of these blunders. On them, therefore, no theory can be based. Nor can any theory be founded on clauses present in the English, but not in the Scots, as in Letter II., Scots, ‘I answerit but rudely to the doutis yat wer in his letteris,’ to which the English text appends, ‘as though there had been a meaning to pursue him.’ This, probably, was in the French; but we must not infer that Lennox had it suppressed, in the Scots, as a reference to what he kept concealed, the rumour of Darnley’s intention to seize and crown the child prince. The real fact is that the Scots translator, as we have seen, makes inadvertent omissions.

The English text is sometimes right where the Scots is wrong. Thus, Sir James Hamilton told Mary, as she entered Glasgow, that Lennox sent the Laird of Houstoun to tell him that he (Lennox) ‘wald never have belevit that he (Sir James) wald have persewit him, nor zit accompanyit him with the Hamiltounis.’ The English has what seems better, ‘he,’ Lennox, ‘wold not have thought that he would have followed and accompany himself with the Hamiltons.’ In the end of a paragraph (3), the Scots is gibberish: Scots, ‘nevertheless he speikis gude, at the leist his son’: English (Henderson), ‘and they so speakith well of them, at least his sonne,’ ‘and then he speaketh well of them’ (Bain). The English then omits (Scots) ‘I se na uthir Gentilman bot thay of my company.’

In the next line (Scots) ‘The King send for Joachim yesternicht,’ the English omits ‘yesternicht,’ probably by inadvertence. The word has a bearing on the chronology of the Letter, and its omission in the English text may be discounted. It is a peculiarity of that text to write ‘he’ for ‘I,’ and a feature of Mary’s hand accounts for the error. Where Darnley, in the Scots, says, ‘I had rather have passit with yow,’ the sentence follows ‘I trow he belevit that I wald have send him away Presoner.’ This is not in the English, but recurs in the end of Crawford’s Deposition, ‘I thought that she was carrying him away rather as a prisoner than as a husband.’ Probably the sentence, omitted in English, was in the French: whether derived from Crawford’s Deposition or not. Presently the English gives a kind of date, not found in the Scots. Scots, ‘I am in doing of ane work heir that I hait greitly.’ The English adds, ‘but I had begun it this morning.’ Now, to all appearance, she had ‘begun it’ the night before. How did ‘but I had begun it this morning’ get into the English? For the answer see page 300. Even in the first set of Memoranda there are differences: Scots, ‘The purpois of Schir James Hamilton.’ English, ‘The talk of Sir James Hamilton of the ambassador.’

There are other mistranslations, and English omissions: the English especially omits the mysterious second set of notes. What appears most distinctly, from this comparison, is the hasty and slovenly manner of the whole inquiry. The English translators had some excuse for their bad work; the Scots had none for their omissions and misrenderings.

Letter III. (or VIII.) and Letter IV. I have translated, in the body of this book, from the copies of the French originals.

In Letter V. the copy of the French original enables us to clear up the sense. It is a question about a maid or lady in waiting, whom Bothwell, or somebody else, wishes Mary to dismiss. The French is, ‘et si vous ne me mondes [mandez] ce soir ce que volles que j’en fasse, Je mendeferay [m’en deferay] au hazard de la fayre entreprandre ce qui pourroit nuire à ce à quoy nous tandons tous deus.’ The Scots has ‘I will red myself of it, and cause it to be interprysit and takin in hand, quhilk micht be hurtful to that quhair unto we baith do tend.’ The English is the Scots, Anglified.

The real sense, of course, is ‘if you do not let me know to-night what step you want me to take, I shall get rid of her, at the risk of making her attempt something which might harm our project.’ We have no other known contemporary English translations. Of the four known, two (I. II.) are made with a frequent glance at the Scots, two are merely the Scots done into English, without any reference to the French. Nothing but the hasty careless manner of the whole inquiry accounts for these circumstances.

The most curious point connected with the translations is Crawford’s deposition. It was handed in on December 9, 1568. Whoever did it out of Crawford’s Scots into English had obviously both the Scots and English versions of Letter II. before him. Where the deposition is practically identical with the corresponding passages of Letter II., the transcriber of it into English usually followed the Scots version of Letter II. But there is a corrected draft in the Lennox MSS. at Cambridge, which proves that the Angliciser of Crawford’s Scots occasionally altered it into harmony with the English version of Letter II. Thus, in the first paragraph, the original draft of Crawford in English has, like the Scots version of Letter II., ‘the rude words that I had spoken to Cunningham.’ But, in the official copy, in English, of Crawford, and in the Lennox draft of it, ‘rude’ is changed into ‘sharpe wordes,’ and so on. The part of Crawford which corresponds with Letter II. is free from obvious literal renderings of the French idiom, as Mr. Henderson remarks.[426] These abound in the English version of the corresponding part of Letter II., but are absent here in the Scots translation. It is, therefore, open to argument that Crawford did make notes of Darnley’s and Mary’s talk; that these were done into ‘the original French,’ and thence retranslated into the Scots (free from French idiom here) and into the English, where traces of French idiom in this passage are frequent.

 

 


THE CASKET LETTERS

I print the Scots Texts with one or two variations from C (the Cambridge MS.) and Y (the Yelverton MS.). The English Texts are given, where they are not merely taken direct from the Scots translations; these and Crawford’s Deposition are from MSS. in the Record Office and Hatfield Calendar.

 

Letter I

Published Scots Translation   English Translation at
the Record Office
   (State Papers relating to Mary Queen of
Scots, vol. ii. No. 62)
It apeiris, that with zour absence thair is alswa joynit forgetfulnes, seand yat at zour departing ze promysit to mak me advertisement of zour newis from tyme to tyme. The waitting upon yame zesterday causit me to be almaist in sic joy as I will be at zour returning, quhilk ze have delayit langer than zour promeis was.   It seemyth that with your absence forgetfulness is joynid consydering that at your departure you promised me to send me newes from you. Neuertheless I can learn none. And yet did I yesterday looke for that that shuld make me meryer then I shall be. I think you doo the lyke for your returne, prolonging it more than you have promised.
As to me, howbeit I have na farther newis from zow, according to my commissioun, I bring the Man with me to Craigmillar upon Monounday quhair he will be all Wednisday; and I will gang to Edinburgh to draw blude of me, gif in the meane tyme I get na newis in ye contrarie fra zow.   As for me, if I hear no other matter of you, according to my Commission, I bring the man Monday to Cregmillar, where he shall be vpon Wednisdaye. And I go to Edinboroughe to be lett blud, if I haue no word to the contrary.
He is mair gay than ever ze saw him; he puttis me in remembrance of all thingis yat may mak me beleve he luifis me. Summa, ze will say yat he makis lufe to me: of ye quhilk I tak sa greit plesure, yat I enter never where he is, bot incontinent I tak ye seiknes of my sair syde, I am sa troubillit with it. Gif Paris bringis me that quhilk I send him for, I traist it sall amend me.   He is the meryest that euer you sawe, and doth remember vnto me all that he can, to make me beleve that he louith me. To conclude, you wold saye that he makith love to me, wherein I take so muche plesure, that I never com in there, but the payne of my syde doth take me. I have it sore to daye. Yf Paris doth bring back unto me that for which I have sent, it suld muche amend me.
I pray zow, advertise me of zour newis at lenth, and quhat I sall do in cace ze be returnit quhen I am cum thair; for, in cace ze wirk not wysely, I se that the haill burding of this will fall upon my schoulderis. Provide for all thing, and discourse upon it first with zourself. I send this be Betoun, quha gais to ane Day of Law of the Laird of Balfouris. I will say na further, saifing that I pray zow to send me gude newis of zour voyage. From Glasgow this Setterday in the morning.   I pray you, send me word from you at large, and what I shall doo if you be not returnid, when I shall be there. For if you be not wyse I see assuredly all the wholle burden falling vpon my shoulders. Prouide for all and consyder well first of all. I send this present to Ledinton to be delivered to you by Beton, who goith to one Day a lau of Lord Balfour. I will saye no more vnto you, but that I pray God send me good newes of your voyage.

From Glasco this Saturday morning.

 

Letter II

Published Scots Translation   English Translation
   (State Papers, Mary Queen of
Scots, vol. ii. No. 65)
1. Being departit from the place quhair I left my hart, it is esie to be judgeit quhat was my countenance, seeing that I was evin als mekle as ane body without ane hart; quhilk was the Occasioun that quhile Denner tyme I held purpois to na body; nor zit durst ony present thameselfis unto me, judging yat it was not gude sa to do.   Being gon from the place, where I had left my harte, it may be easily iudged what my Countenance was consydering what the body may without harte, which was cause that till dynner I had used lyttle talk, neyther wold any pson body advance him selfe therunto, thinking that it was not good so to doo.
2. Four myle or I came to the towne, ane gentilman of the Erle of Lennox come and maid his commendatiounis unto me; and excusit him that he came not to meit me, be ressoun he durst not interpryse the same, becaus of the rude wordis that I had spokin to Cuninghame: And he desyrit that he suld come to the inquisitioun of ye matter yat I suspectit him of. This last speiking was of his awin heid, without ony commissioun.

I answerit to him that thair was na recept culd serve aganis feir; and that he wold not be affrayit, in cace he wer not culpabill; and that I answerit bot rudely to the doutis yat wer in his letteris. Summa, I maid him hald his toung. The rest wer lang to wryte.

3. Schir James Hammiltoun met me, quha schawit that the uther tyme quhen he hard of my cumming he[427] departit away, and send Howstoun, to schaw him, that he wald never have belevit that he wald have persewit him, nor zit accompanyit him with the Hammiltounis. He answerit, that he was only cum bot to see me, and yat he wald nouther accompany Stewart nor Hammiltoun, bot be my commandement. He desyrit that he wald cum and speik with him: He refusit it.
  Fowir myles from thence a gentleman of the Erle of Lennox cam and made his commendations and excuses vnto me, that he cam not to meete me, because he durst not enterprise so to doo, consydering the sharp wordes that I had spoken to Conyngham, and that he desyred that I wold com to the inquisition of the facte which I did suspecte him of. This last was of his own head, without commission, and I told him that he had no receipte against feare, and that he had no feare, if he did not feele him self faulty, and that I had also sharply answeared to the doubtes that he made in his letters as though ther had bene a meaning to poursue him. To be short I have made him hold his peace; for the reste it were to long to tell you. Sir James Hamilton came to meete me, who told me that at another tyme he went his waye when he heard of my comming, and that he sent unto him Houstoun, to tell him that he wold not have thought, that he wold have followed and accompany him selfe with the Hamiltons. He answeared that he was not com but to see me; and that he would not follow Stuard nor Hamilton, but by my commandment. He prayed him to go speake to him; he refused it.
The Laird of Lusse, Howstoun, and Caldwellis sone, with xl. hors or thairabout, come and met me. The Laird of Lusse said, he was chargeit to ane Day of Law be the Kingis father, quhilk suld be this day, aganis his awin hand-writ, quhilk he hes: and zit notwithstanding, knawing of my cumming, it is delayit. He was inquyrit to cum to him, quhilk he refusit, and sweiris that he will indure nathing of him. Never ane of that towne came to speik to me, quhilk causis me think that thay ar his; and neuertheles he speikis gude, at the leist his sone. I se na uther Gentilman bot thay of my company.   The Lard Luce, Houstoun and the sonne of Caldwell, and about XLty horse cam to meete me and he told that he was sent to one day a law from the father, which shuld be this daye against the signing of his own hand, which he hathe, and that, knowing of my comming, he hath delayed it, and hath prayed him to go see him, which he hath refused and swearith that he will suffer nothing at his handes. Not one of the towne is come to see me to speake with me, which makith me to think that they be his, and then he speakith well of them at leaste his sonne.
4. The King send for Joachim zisternicht, and askit at him, quhy I ludgeit not besyde him? And that he wald ryse the soner gif that wer; and quhairfoir I come, gif it was for gude appointment? and gif I had maid my estait, gif I had takin Paris [this berer will tell you sumwhat upon this], and Gilbert to wryte to me? And yat I wald send Joseph away. I am abaschit quha hes schawin him sa far; zea he spak evin of ye mariage of Bastiane.

5. I inquyrit him of his letteris, quhairintill he plenzeit of the crueltie of sum: answerit, that he was astonischit, and that he was sa glaid to se me, that he belevit to die for glaidnes. He fand greit fault that I was pensive.
  The King sent for Joachim and asked him, why I did not lodge nighe to him, and that he wold ryse sooner and why I cam, whithir it wear for any good appointment, that he[428] cam, and whithir I had not taken Paris and Guilbert to write and that I sent Joseph. I wonder who hath told him so muche evin of the mariage of Bastian. This bearer shall tell you more vpon that I asked him of his letters and where he did complayne of the crueltye of some of them. He said that he did dreme, and that he was so glad to see me that he thought he shuld dye. Indeede that he had found faulte with me....
6. I departit to supper. Yis beirer wil tell yow of my arryuing. He prayit me to returne: the quhilk I did. He declairit unto me his seiknes, and that he wald mak na testament, bot only leif all thing to me; and that I was the caus of his maladie, becaus of the regrait that he had that I was sa strange unto him. And thus he said: Ze ask me quhat I mene be the crueltie contenit in my letter? it is of zow alone that will not accept my offeris and repentance. I confess that I haue failit, bot not into that quhilk I ever denyit; and siclyke hes failit to sindrie of zour subjectis, quhilk ze haue forgeuin.

I am zoung.

Ze wil say, that ze have forgevin me oft tymes, and zit yat I returne to my faultis. May not ane man of my age, for lacke of counsell, fall twyse or thryse, or inlacke of his promeis, and at last repent himself, and be chastisit be experience? Gif I may obtene pardoun, I protest I sall never mak fault agane. And I crafit na uther thing, bot yat we may be at bed and buird togidder as husband and wyfe; and gif ze wil not consent heirunto, I sall never ryse out of yis bed. I pray zow, tell me your resolutioun. God knawis how I am punischit for making my God of zow, and for hauing na uther thocht but on zow; and gif at ony tyme I offend zow, ze ar the caus, becaus quhen ony offendis me, gif, for my refuge, I micht playne unto zow, I wald speik it unto na uther body; bot quhen I heir ony thing, not being familiar with zow, necessitie constranis me to keip it in my breist; and yat causes me to tyne my wit for verray anger.
  I went my waye to supper. This bearer shall tell you of my arryving. He praied me to com agayn, which I did: and he told me his grefe, and that he wold make no testament, but leave all unto me and that I was cause of his sicknes for the sorrow he had, that I was so strange unto him. And (said he) you asked what I ment in my letter to speak of cruelty. It was of your cruelty who will not accepte my offres and repentance I avowe that I have done amisse, but not that I have always disauowed; and so have many other of your subjects don and you have well pardonid them.

I am young.

You will saye that you have also pardoned me many tymes and that I returne to my fault. May not a man of my age for want of counsell, fayle twise or thrise and mysse of promes and at the last repent and rebuke him selfe by his experience? Yf I may obtayn this pardon I protest I will neuer make faulte agayne. And I ask nothing but that we may be at bed and table togiether as husband and wife; and if you will not I will never rise from this bed. I pray you tell me your resolution heerof. God knoweth that I am punished to have made my God of you and had no other mynd but of you. And when I offende you somtyme, you are cause thereof: for if I thought, whan anybody doth any wrong to me, that I might for my refuge make my mone thereof unto you, I wold open it to no other, but when I heare anything being not familiar with you, I must keep it in my mynd and that makith me out of my wytt troublith my wittes for anger.
7. I answerit ay unto him, but that wald be ovir lang to wryte at lenth. I askit quhy he wald pas away in ye Inglis schip. He denyis it, and sweiris thairunto; bot he grantis that he spak with the men. Efter this I inquyrit him of the inquisitioun of Hiegait. He denyit the same, quhill I schew him the verray wordis was spokin. At quhilk tyme he said, that Mynto had advertisit him, that it was said, that sum of the counsell had brocht an letter to me to be subscrivit to put him in Presoun, and to slay him gif he maid resistance. And he askit the same at Mynto himself; quha answerit, that he belevit ye same to be trew. The morne I wil speik to him upon this Point.   I did still answair him but that shall be too long. In the end I asked him why he wold go in the English shipp. He doth disavow it and swearith so, and confessith to have spoken to the men. Afterwards I asked him of the inquisition of Hiegate. He denyed it till I told him the very wordes, and then he said that Minto sent him word that it was said, that som of the counsayle had brought me a letter to signe to putt him in prison, and to kill him if he did resiste and that he asked this of Minto himself, who said vnto him that he thought it was true. I will talke with him to morrowe vpon that poynte. The rest as Wille Hiegate hath confessed; but it was the next daye that he cam hither.
8. As to the rest of Willie Hiegait’s, he confessit it, bot it was the morne efter my cumming or he did it.
9. He wald verray fane that I suld ludge in his ludgeing. I refusit it, and said to him, that he behovit to be purgeit, and that culd not be done heir. He said to me, I heir say ze have brocht ane lytter with zow; but I had rather have passit with zow. I trow he belevit that I wald have send him away Presoner. I answerit, that I wald tak him with me to Craigmillar, quhair the mediciner and I micht help him, and not be far from my sone. He answerit, that he was reddy quhen I pleisit, sa I wald assure him of his requeist.   In the end he desyred much that I shuld lodge in his lodging. I have refused it. I have told him that he must be pourged and that could not be don heere. He said unto me ‘I have hard saye that you have brought the lytter, but I wold rather have gon with yourselfe.’ I told him that so I wolde myself bring him to Cragmillar, that the phisicians and I also might cure him without being farr from my sonne. He said that he was ready when I wolde so as I wolde assure him of his requeste.
He desyris na body to se him. He is angrie quhen I speik of Walcar, and sayis, that he sal pluk the eiris out of his heid and that he leis. For I inquyrit him upon that, and yat he was angrie with sum of the Lordis, and wald threittin thame. He denyis that, and sayis he luifis thame all, and prayis me to give traist to nathing aganis him.

10. As to me, he wald rather give his lyfe or he did ony displesure to me. And efter yis he schew me of sa money lytil flattereis, sa cauldly and sa wysely that ze will abasche thairat. I had almaist forzet that he said, he could not dout of me in yis purpois of Hiegaite’s; for he wald never beleif yat I, quha was his proper flesche, wald do him ony evill; alsweill it was schawin that I refusit to subscrive the same; But as to ony utheris that wald persew him, at leist he suld sell his lyfe deir aneuch; but he suspectit na body, nor zit wald not; but wald lufe all yat I lufit.
  He hath no desyre to be seen and waxeth angry when I speake to him of Wallcar and sayth that he will pluck his eares from his head, and that he lyeth; for I asked him before of that, and what cause he had to complayne of some of the lords and to threaten them. He denyeth it, and sayth that he had allready prayed them to think no such matter of him. As for my selfe he wold rather lose his lyfe than doo me the leaste displeasure; and then used so many kindes of flatteryes so coldly and wysely as you wold marvayle at. I had forgotten that he sayde that he could not mistrust me for Hiegate’s word, for he could not beleve, that his own flesh (which was myselfe) wold doo him any hurte; and in deed it was sayd that I refused to have him lett bludd.[429] But for the others he wold at leaste sell his lyfe deare ynoughe; but that he did suspecte nobody nor wolde, but wolde love all that I did love.
11. He wald not let me depart from him, bot desyrit yat I suld walk with him. I mak it seme that I beleive that all is trew, and takis heid thairto, and excusit my self for this nicht that I culd not walk. He sayis, that he sleipis not weil. Ze saw him never better, nor speik mair humbler. And gif I had not ane prufe of his hart of waxe, and yat myne wer not of ane dyamont, quhairintill na schot can mak brek, but that quhilk cummis forth of zour hand, I wald have almaist had pietie of him. But feir not, the place sall hald unto the deith. Remember, in recompence thairof, that ye suffer not zouris to be wyn be that fals race that will travell na les with zow for the same.   He wold not lett me go, but wold have me to watche with him. I made as though I thought all to be true and that I wold think vpon it, and have excused myself from sytting up with him this nyght, for he sayth that he sleepith not. You have never heard him speake better nor more humbly; and if I had not proofe of his hart to be as waxe, and that myne were not as a dyamant, no stroke but comming from your hand could make me but to have pitie of him. But feare not for the place shall contynue till death. Remember also, in recompense therof, not to suffer yours to be won by that false race that wold do no lesse to your selfe.
I beleve thay[430] have bene at schuillis togidder. He hes ever the teir in his eye; he salutis every body, zea, unto the leist, and makis pieteous caressing unto thame, to mak thame have pietie on him. This day his father bled at the mouth and nose; ges quhat presage that is. I have not zit sene him, he keipis his chalmer. The king desyris that I suld give him meit with my awin handis; bot gif na mair traist quhair ze ar, than I sall do heir.

This is my first jornay. I sall end ye same ye morne.

12. I wryte all thingis, howbeit thay be of lytill wecht, to the end that ze may tak the best of all to judge upon. I am in doing of ane work heir that I hait greitly. Have ze not desyre to lauch to se me lie sa weill, at ye leist to dissembill sa weill, and to tell him treuth betwix handis? He schawit me almaist all yat is in the name of the Bischop and Sudderland, and zit I have never twichit ane word of that ze schawit me; but allanerly be force, flattering, and to pray him to assure himself of me. And be pleinzeing on the Bischop, I have drawin it all out of him. Ye have hard the rest.
  I think they have bene at schoole togither. He hath allwais the teare in the eye. He saluteth every man, even to the meanest, and makith much of them, that they may take pitie of him. His father hath bled this daye at the nose and at the mouth. Gesse what token that is. I have not seene him; he is in his chamber. The king is so desyrous, that I shuld give him meate with my own hands, but trust you no more there where you are than I doo here.

This is my first journay; I will end to morrow. I write all, how little consequence so ever it be of, to the end that you may take of the wholle, that shall be best for you to judge. I doo here a work that I hate muche, but I had begon it this morning; had you not lyst to laugh, to see me so trymly make a lie, at the leaste dissemble, and to mingle truthe therewith? He hath almost told me all on the bishops behalfe and of Sunderland, without touching any word unto him of that which you had told me; but only by muche flattering him and praying him to assure him selfe of me, and by my complayning of the bishop. I have taken the worms out of his nose. You have hard the rest.
13. We ar couplit with twa fals races; the devil sinder us, and God knit us togidder for ever, for the maist faithful coupill that ever be unitit. This is my faith, I will die in it.   We are tyed to by two false races. The good yeere untye us from them. God forgive me and God knytt us togither for ever for the most faythfull couple that ever he did knytt together. This is my fayth; I will dye in it.
Excuse I wryte evill, ye may ges ye half of it; bot I cannot mend it, because I am not weil at eis; and zit verray glaid to wryte unto zow quhen the rest are sleipand, sen I cannot sleip as thay do, and as I wald desyre, that is in zour armes, my deir lufe, quhome I pray God to preserve from all evill, and send zow repois: I am gangand to seik myne till ye morne, quhen I sall end my Bybill; but I am faschit that it stoppis me to wryte newis of myself unto zow, because it is sa lang.   Excuse it, yf I write yll; you must gesse the one halfe. I cannot doo with all, for I am yll at ease, and glad to write unto you when other folkes be a sleepe, seeing that I cannot doo as they doo, according to my desyre, that is betwene your armes my dear lyfe whom I besech God to preserve from all yll, and send you good rest as I go to seeke myne, till to morrow in the morning that will end my bible. But it greevith me, that it shuld lett me from wryting unto you of newes of myself long the same so much I have to write.
Advertise me quhat ze have deliberat to do in the mater ze knaw upon this point, to ye end that we may understand utheris weill, that nathing thairthrow be spilt.   Send me word what you have determinid heerupon, that we may know the one the others mynde for marryng of any thing.
14. I am irkit, and ganging to sleip, and zit I ceis not to scrible[431] all this paper in sa mekle as restis thairof. Waryit mot this pokische man be that causes me haif sa mekle pane, for without him I suld have an far plesander subject to discourse upon. He is not over mekle deformit, zit he hes ressavit verray mekle. He hes almaist slane me with his braith; it is worse than zour uncle’s; and zit I cum na neirer unto him, bot in ane chyre at the bed-seit, and he being at the uther end thairof.   I am weary, and am a sleepe, and yet I cannot forbeare scribbling so long as ther is any paper. Cursed be this pocky fellow that troublith me thus muche, for I had a pleasanter matter to discourse vnto you but for him. He is not muche the worse, but he is yll arrayed. I thought I shuld have bene kylled with his breth, for it is worse than your uncle’s breth; and yet I was sett no nearer to him than in a chayr by his bolster, and he lyeth at the furdre syde of the bed.
15. The message of the father in the gait.   The message of the Father by the waye.
The purpois of Schir James Hamilton.   The talk of Sir James Hamilton of the ambassador.
Of that the Laird of Lusse schawit me of the delay.

Of the demandis that he askit at Joachim.

Of my estait.

Of my company.

Of the occasion of my cumming:

And of Joseph.

Item, The purpois that he and I had togidder. Of the desyre that he hes to pleis me, and of his repentence.

Of the interpretatioun of his letter.
  That the Lard a Luss hath tolde me of the delaye.

The questions that he asked of Jochim.

Of my state.

Of my companye.

And of the cause of my comming.

And of Joseph.

The talk that he and I haue had, and of his desyre to please me, of his repentance, and of thinterpretation of his letter.
Of Willie Hiegaite’s mater of his departing.

Of Monsiure de Levingstoun.
  Of Will Hiegate’s doinges, and of his departure, and of the L. of Levinston.
16. I had almaist forzet, that Monsiure de Levingstoun said in the Lady Reres eir at supper, that he wald drink to ye folk yat I wist of, gif I wald pledge thame. And efter supper he said to me, quhen I was lenand upon him warming me at the fyre, Ze have fair going to se seik folk, zit ze cannot be sa welcum to thame as ze left sum body this day in regrait, that will never be blyth quhill he se zow agane. I askit at him quha that was. With that he thristit my body, and said, that sum of his folkis had sene zow in fascherie; ze may ges at the rest.

17. I wrocht this day quhill it was twa houris upon this bracelet, for to put ye key of it within the lock thairof, quhilk is couplit underneth with twa cordounis. I have had sa lytill tyme that it is evill maid; bot I sall mak ane fairer in the meane tyme. Tak heid that nane that is heir se it, for all the warld will knaw it, becaus for haist it was maid in yair presence.

18. I am now passand to my fascheous purpois. Ze gar me dissemble sa far, that I haif horring thairat; and ye caus me do almaist the office of a traitores. Remember how gif it wer not to obey zow, I had rather be deid or I did it; my hart bleidis at it. Summa, he will not cum with me, except upon conditioun that I will promeis to him, that I sall be at bed and buird with him as of befoir, and that I sall leif him na ofter: and doing this upon my word, he will do all thingis that I pleis, and cum with me. Bot he hes prayit me to remane upon him quhil uther morne.
  I had forgotten of the L. of Levinston, that at supper he sayd softly to the Lady Reres, that he dronk to the persons I knew if I wold pledge them. And after supper he sayd softly to me, when I was leaning vpon him and warming myselfe, ‘You may well go and see sick folkes, yet can you not be so welcom unto them as you have this daye left som body in payne who shall never be meary till he haue seene you agayne.’ I asked him who it was; he tooke me about the body and said ‘One of his folkes that hath left you this daye.’ Gesse you the rest.

This day I have wrought till two of the clock vpon this bracelet, to putt the keye in the clifte of it, which is tyed with two laces. I have had so little tyme that it is very yll, but I will make a fayrer; and in the meane tyme take heed that none of those that be heere doo see it, for all the world wold know it, for I have made it in haste in theyr presence.

I go to my tedious talke. You make me dissemble so much that I am afrayde therof with horrour, and you make me almost to play the part of a traytor. Remember that if it weare not for obeyeng I had rather be dead. My heart bleedith for yt. To be shorte, he will not com but with condition that I shall promise to be with him as heretofore at bed and borde, and that I shall forsake him no more; and vpon my word he will doo whatsoever I will, and will com, but he hath prayed me to tarry till after to morrow.
He spak verray braifly at ye beginning, as yis beirer will schaw zow, upon the purpois of the Inglismen, and of his departing: Bot in ye end he returnit agane to his humilitie.[432]

19. He schawit, amangis uther purposis, yat he knew weill aneuch that my brother had schawin me yat thing, quhilk he had spoken in Striviling, of the quhilk he denyis ye ane half, and abone all, yat ever he came in his chalmer. For to mak him traist me, it behovit me to fenze in sum thingis with him: Thairfoir, quhen he requeistit me to promeis unto him, that quhen he was haill we suld have baith ane bed: I said to him fenzeingly, and making me to beleve his[433] promisis, that gif he changeit not purpois betwix yis and that tyme, I wald be content thairwith; bot in the meane tyme I bad him heid that he leit na body wit thairof, becaus, to speik amangis our selfis, the Lordis culd not be offendit nor will evill thairfoir: Bot thay wald feir in respect of the boisting he maid of thame, that gif ever we aggreit togidder, he suld mak thame knaw the lytill compt thay take of him; and that he counsallit me not to purchas sum of thame by him.

Thay for this caus wald be in jelosy, gif at anis, without thair knawledge, I suld brek the play set up in the contrair in thair presence.
  He hath spoken at the fyrst more stoutly, as this bearer shall tell you upon the matter of the Englishmen and of his departure; but in the end he cometh to his gentlenes agayne.

He hath told me, among other talk, that he knew well, that my brother hath told me at Sterling that which he had said there, wherof he denyed the halfe, and specially that he was in his chamber. But now to make him trust me I must fayne somthing vnto him; and therfore when he desyred me to promise that when he shuld be well we shuld make but one bed, I told him fayning to believe his faire promises, that if he did not change his mynd betwene this tyme and that, I was contented, so as he wold saye nothing therof; for (to tell it betwen us two) the Lordis wished no yll to him, but did feare lest, consydering the threateninges which he made in case we did agree together, he wold make them feel the small accompte they have made of him; and that he wold persuade me to poursue som of them, and for this respecte shuld be in jelousy if by and by at one instant, without their knowledge I did brake a game made to the contrary in their presence.
He said verray joyfully, And think zow thay will esteme zow the mair of that? Bot I am verray glaid that ze speik to me of the Lordis; for I beleve at this tyme ze desyre that we suld leif togidder in quyetnes: For gif it wer utherwyse, greiter inconvenience micht come to us baith than we ar war of: bot now I will do quhatever ze will do, and will lufe all that ze lufe; and desyris zow to mak thame lufe in lyke maner: For, sen thay seik not my lyfe, I lufe thame all equallie. Upon yis point this beirer will schaw zow mony small thingis. Becaus I have over mekle to wryte, and it is lait: I give traist unto him upon zour word. Summa, he will ga upon my word to all places.   And he said unto me very pleasant and meary ‘Think you that they doo the more esteem you therfore? But I am glad that you talked to me of the Lordes. I hope that you desyre now that we shall lyve a happy lyfe; for if it weare otherwise, it could not be but greater inconvenience shuld happen to us both than you think. But I will doo now whatsoever you will have me doo, and will love all those that you shall love so as you make them to love me allso. For so as they seek not my lyfe, I love them all egally.’ Therupon I have willed this bearer to tell you many prety things; for I have to muche to write, and it is late, and I trust him upon your worde. To be short, he will go any where upon my word.
20. Allace! I never dissavit ony body: Bot I remit me altogidder to zour will. Send me advertisement quhat I sall do, and quhatsaever thing sall cum thairof, I sall obey zow. Advise to with zourself, gif ze can find out ony mair secreit inventioun be medicine; for he suld tak medicine and the bath at Craigmillar. He may not cum furth of the hous this lang tyme.

21. Summa, be all that I can leirne, he is in greit suspicioun, and zit notwithstanding, he gevis credit to my word; bot zit not sa far that he will schaw ony thing to me: bot nevertheles, I sall draw it out of him, gif ze will that I avow all unto him. Bot I will never rejoyce to deceive ony body that traistis in me: Zit notwithstanding ze may command me in all thingis. Have na evill opinioun of me for that caus, be ressoun ze ar the occasion of it zourself; becaus, for my awin particular revenge, I wald not do it to him.
  Alas! and I never deceived any body; but I remitt myself wholly to your will. And send me word what I shall doo, and whatsoever happen to me, I will obey you. Think also yf you will not fynd som invention more secret by phisick, for he is to take physick at Cragmillar and the bathes also, and shall not com fourth of long tyme.

To be short, for that that I can learn he hath great suspicion, and yet, nevertheles trusteth upon my worde, but not to tell me as yet anything; howbeit, if you will that I shall avow him, I will know all of him; but I shall never be willing to beguile one that puttith his trust in me. Nevertheles you may doo all, and doo not estyme me the lesse therfore, for you are the cause therof. For, for my own revenge I wold not doo it.
He gevis me sum chekis of yat quhilk I feir, zea, evin in the quick. He sayis this far, yat his faultis wer publeist: bot yair is that committis faultis, that belevis thay will never be spokin of; and zit thay will speik of greit and small. As towart the Lady Reres, he said, I pray God that scho may serve zow for your honour: and said, it is thocht, and he belevis it to be trew, that I have not the power of myself into myself, and that becaus of the refuse I maid of his offeris. Summa, for certanetie he suspectis of the thing ze knaw, and of his lyfe. Bot as to the last, how sone yat I spak twa or thre gude wordis unto him, he rejoysis, and is out of dout.

22. I saw him not this evening for to end your bracelet, to the quhilk I can get na lokkis. It is reddy to thame: and zit I feir that it will bring sum malhure, and may be sene gif ze chance to be hurt. Advertise me gif ze will have it, and gif ze will have mair silver, and quhen I sall returne, and how far I may speik. He inragis when he heiris of Lethingtoun, or of zow, or of my brother. Of your brother he speikis nathing.[434] He speikis of the Erle of Argyle. I am in feir quhen I heir him speik; for he assuris himself yat he hes not an evill opinioun of him. He speikis nathing of thame that is out, nouther gude nor evill, bot fleis that point. His father keipis his chalmer I have not sene him.
  He giuith me certain charges (and these strong), of that that I fear evin to saye that his faultes be published, but there be that committ some secret faultes and feare not to have them spoken of lowdely, and that ther is speeche of greate and small. And even touching the Lady Reres, he said ‘God grant, that she serve you to your honour.’ And that men may not think, nor he neyther, that myne owne power was not in myselfe, seeing I did refuse his offres. To conclude, for a suerety, he mistrustith vs of that that you know, and for his lyfe. But in the end, after I had spoken two or three good wordes to him, he was very meary and glad.

I have not sene him this night for ending your bracelet, but I can fynde no claspes for yt; it is ready therunto, and yet I feare least it should bring you yll happ, or that it shuld be known if you were hurte. Send me worde, whether you will have it and more monney, and whan I shall returne, and how farre I may speak. Now as farr as I perceive I may doo much with you; gesse you whithir I shall not be suspected. As for the rest, he is wood when he hears of Ledinton, and of you and my brother. Of your brother he sayth nothing, but of the Earl of Arguile he doth; I am afraide of him to heare him talk, at the least he assurith himselfe that he hath no yll opinion of him. He speakith nothing of those abrode, nether good nor yll, but avoidith speaking of them. His father keepith his chamber; I have not seene him.
23. All the Hammiltounis ar heir, that accompanyis me verray honorabilly. All the freindis of the uther convoyis me quhen I gang to se him. He desyris me to come and se him ryse the morne betyme. For to mak schort, this beirer will tell zow the rest. And gif I leirne ony thing heir, I will mak zow memoriall at evin. He will tell zow the occasioun of my remaning. Burne this letter, for it is ovir dangerous, and nathing weill said in it: for I am thinkand upon nathing bot fascherie. Gif ze be in Edinburgh at the ressait of it, send me word sone.   All the Hamiltons be heere who accompany me very honestly. All the friendes of the other doo come allwais, when I go to visitt him. He hath sent to me and prayeth me to see him rise to morrow in the morning early. To be short, this bearer shall declare unto you the rest; and if I shall learne anything, I will make every night a memoriall therof. He shall tell you the cause of my staye. Burn this letter, for it is too dangerous, neyther is there anything well said in it, for I think upon nothing but upon greefe if you be at Edinboroughe.
24. Be not offendit, for I gif not ovir greit credite. Now seing to obey zow, my deir lufe, I spair nouther honour, conscience, hasarde, nor greitnes quhat sumevir tak it, I pray zow, in gude part, and not efter the interpretatioun of zour fals gudebrother, to quhome, I pray zou, gif na credite agains the maist faithful luifer that ever ze had, or ever sall have.   Now if to please you, my deere lyfe, I spare neither honor, conscience, nor hazard, nor greatnes, take it in good part, and not according to the interpretation of your false brother-in-law, to whom I pray you, give no credit against the most faythfull lover that ever you had or shall have.
Se not hir, quhais fenzeit teiris suld not be sa mekle praisit nor estemit, as the trew and faithful travellis quhilk I sustene for to merite hir place. For obtening of the quhilk aganis my naturall, I betrayis thame that may impesche me. God forgive me, and God give zow, my only lufe, the hap and prosperitie quhilk your humble and faithful lufe desyris unto zow, quha hopis to be schortly ane uther thing to zow, for the reward of my irksum travellis.   See not also her whose faynid teares you ought not more to regarde than the true travails which I endure to deserve her place, for obteyning of which, against my own nature, I doo betray those that could lett me. God forgive me and give you, my only frend, the good luck and prosperitie that your humble and faythfull lover doth wisshe vnto you, who hopith shortly to be an other thing vnto you, for the reward of my paynes.
25. It is lait: I desyre never to ceis fra wryting unto zou; zit now, efter the kissing of zour handis, I will end my letter. Excuse my evill wryting, and reid it twyse over. Excuse that thing that is scriblit,[435] for I had na paper zisterday quhen I wrait that of ye memoriall. Remember upon zour lufe, and wryte unto hir, and that verray oft. Lufe me as I sall do zow.

Remember zow of the purpois of the Lady Reres.

Of the Inglismen.

Of his mother.

Of the Erle of Argyle.

Of the Erle Bothwell.

Of the ludgeing in Edinburgh.
  I have not made one worde, and it is very late, althoughe I shuld never be weary in wryting to you, yet will I end, after kyssing of your handes. Excuse my evill wryting, and read it over twise. Excuse also that [I scribbled], for I had yesternight no paper when took the paper of a memorial. [Pray] remember your frend, and wryte vnto her and often. Love me allw[ais as I shall love you].

 

Letter III

ORIGINAL FRENCH VERSION AT HATFIELD

(See Calendar of Hatfield Manuscripts, vol. i. pp. 376-77.)

J’ay veille plus tard la hault que je n’eusse fait si ce neust esté pour tirer ce que ce porteur vous dira que Je treuve la plus belle commoditie pour excuser vostre affaire que se pourroit presenter. Je luy ay promise de le luy mener demain ^si vous le trouves bon mettes y ordre. Or monsieur j’ay ja rompu ma promesse Car vous ne mavies rien comande ^de vous envoier ni escrire si ne le fais pour vous offencer et si vous scavies la craint que j’en ay vous nauries tant des subçons contrairs que toutesfois je cheris comme procedant de la chose du mond que je desire et cherche le plus c’est votre ^bonne grace de laquelle mes deportemens m’asseureront et je n’en disesperay Jamais tant que selon vostre promesse vous m’en dischargeres vostre coeur aultrement je penseras que mon malheur et le bien composer de ceux qui n’ont la troisiesme partie de la fidelité ni voluntair obéissance que je vous porte auront gaigné sur moy l’avantage de la seconde amye de Jason. Non que je vous compare a un si malheureuse ni moy a une si impitoiable. Combien que vous men fassies un peu resentir en chose qui vous touschat ou pour vous preserver et garder a celle a qui seulle vous aporteins si lon se peult approprier ce que lon acquiert par bien et loyalment voire uniquement aymer comme je fais et fairay toute ma vie pour pein ou mal qui m’en puisse avenir. En recompence de quoy et des tous les maulx dont vous maves este cause, souvenes vous du lieu icy pres. Je ne demande que vous me tennes promesse de main mais que nous truvions et que nadjousties foy au subçons quaures sans nous en certifier, et Je ne demande a Dieu si non que coignoissies tout ce que je ay au coeur qui est vostre et quil vous preserve de tout mal au moyns durant ma vie qui ne me sera chere qu’autant qu’elle et moy vous serons agreables. Je m’en vois coucher et vous donner le bon soir mandes moy de main comme vous seres porté a bon heur. Car j’enseray en pein et faites bon guet si l’oseau sortira de sa cage ou sens son per comme la tourtre demeurera seulle a se lamenter de l’absence ^pour court quelle soit. Ce que je ne puis faire ma lettre de bon coeur si ce nestoit que je ay peur que soyes endormy. Car je nay ose escrire devant Joseph et bastienne et Joachim qui ne sont que partir quand J’ay commence.

 

Letter IV

ORIGINAL FRENCH VERSION

(In the Record Office State Papers, Mary Queen of Scots, vol. ii. No. 63.)

Mon cueur helas fault il que la follie d’une famme dont vous connoisses asses l’ingratitude vers moy soit cause de vous donner displesir veu que je neusse sceu y remedier sans le scavoir; et despuis que men suis apersue Je ne vous lay peu dire pour scauoir comment mi guovejernerois car en cela ni aultre chose je ne veulx entreprandre de rien fayre sans en scavoir votre volontay, laquelle je vous suplie me fayre entandre car je la suiuray toute ma vie plus volontiers que vous ne me la declareres, et si vous ne me mandes ce soir ce que volles que jen faise je men deferay au hazard de la fayre entreprandre ce qui pourroit nuire a ce a quoy nous tandons tous deus, et quant elle sera mariee je vous suplie donnes men vne ou ien prandray telles de quoy vous contanteres quant a leur condition mayes de leur langue ou fidelite vers vous ie ne vous en respondray Je vous suplie qune opinion sur aultrui ne nuise en votre endroit a ma constance. Soupsonnes moi may quant je vous en veulx rendre hors de doubte et mesclersir ne le refeuses ma chere vie et permetes que je vous face preuue par mon obeissance de ma fidelite et constance et subjection volontaire, que je prands pour le plus agreable bien que je scaurois resceuoir si vous le voulles accepter, et nen faytes la ceremonie car vous ne me scauriez dauantage outrasger ou donner mortel ennuy.

 

Letter V

ORIGINAL FRENCH VERSION AT HATFIELD

Monsieur, helas pourquoy est vostre fiance mise en personne si indigne, pour subçonner ce que est entierement vostre. Vous m’avies promise que resouldries tout et que ^me manderies tous les jours ce que j’aurais a faire. Vous nen aves rien fait. Je vous advertise bien de vous garder de vostre faulx beau frere Il est venu vers moy et sens me monstrer rien de vous me dist que vous luy mandies qu’il vous escrive ce qu’auries a dire, et ou, et quant vous me troveres et ce que faires touchant luy et la dessubs m’a preschè que c’estoit une folle entreprinse, et qu’avecques mon honneur Je ne vous pourries Jamaiis espouser, veu qu’estant marié vous m’amenies et que ses gens ne l’endureroient pas et que les seigneurs se dediroient. Somme il est tout contrair. Je luy ay dist qu’estant venue si avant si vous ne vous en retiries de vous mesmes que persuasion ne la mort mesmes ne me fairoient faillir de a ma promesse. Quant au lieu vous estes trop negligent (pardonnes moy) de vous en remettre a moy. Choisisses le vous mesmes et me le mandes. Et cependant je suis malade je differeray Quant au propose cest trop tard. Il n’a pas tins a moy que n’ayes pense a heure. Et si vous neussies non plus changé de propos pensee depuis mon absence que moy vous ne series a demander telle resolution. ^Or il ne manque rien de ma part et puis que vostre negligence vous met tous deux au danger d’un faux frere, s’il ne succede bien je ne me releveray Jamais. Il vous envoy ce porteur. Car Je ne m’ose me fier a vostre frere de ces lettres ni de la diligence, il vous dira en quelle estat Je suis, et Juges quelle amendemente m’a porté ce incertains Nouvelles. Je voudrais estre morte. Car Je vois tout aller mal. Vous prometties bien autre chose de vostre providence. Mais l’absence peult sur vous, qui aves deux cordes a vostre arc. Depesches la responce a fin que Je ne faille et ne ^vous fies de ceste entreprinse a vostre frere. Car il la dist, et si y est tout contrair.

Dieu vous doint le bon soir.

 

Letter VI

PUBLISHED SCOTS TRANSLATION

Of the place and ye tyme I remit my self to zour brother and to zow. I will follow him, and will faill in nathing of my part. He findis mony difficulteis. I think he dois advertise zow thairof, and quhat he desyris for the handling of himself. As for the handling of myself, I hard it ains weill devysit.