It were needless to set forth the mighty state in which this war-hating
monarch, this "vicegerent of Divinity," departed--or the great error and
agitation of Mr Breares, the lawyer, when he made a marvellous proper
speech at the town-cross--wiping his forehead thrice, and his mouth
barely once. Nor shall we dilate upon the distress, and dazzling silk
doublets of the mayor and aldermen of this proud and thrice-happy
borough--nor how they knelt to the soft salute of his Majesty's hand.
Our whole book were a space too brief, and a region too inglorious, for
the wide pomp and paraphernalia of the time; and how the bailiff rode,
and the mace-bearer guarded the caroche, it were presumption, an
offensive compound of ignorance and pride, to attempt the portraiture.
Suffice it to say, they wore mulberry-coloured taffeta gowns, carried
white staves and foot-cloths, and were preceded by twenty-four stout
yeomen riding before the king, with fringed javelins, unto a place
beyond Walton, where they departed. Our object is to notice matters of
less magnitude and splendour; occurrences then too trivial to guide the
pen of the chronicler, lost beneath the blaze and effulgence that
followed on the track of this pageant-loving king.
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