sed me to be a man in whom the old proverb was verified; I
was silent, and so consented. Before this thing chanced, we
lived together in most nourishing estate: Of whom went report
in the _Strand_, _Fleet-street_, and elsewhere about _London_,
but of _Babington and Titchbourne_? No threshold was of force
to brave our entry. Thus we lived, and wanted nothing we could
wish for; and God knows what less in my head than _matters of
state_. Now give me leave to declare the miseries I sustained
after I was acquainted with the action, wherein I may justly
compare my estate to that of Adam's, who could not abstain _one
thing forbidden_, to enjoy all other things the world could
afford; the terror of conscience awaited me. After I considered
the dangers whereinto I was fallen, I went to Sir John Peters
in Essex, and appointed my horses should meet me at London,
intending to go down into the country. I came to London, and
then heard that all was bewrayed; whereupon, like Adam, we fled
into the woods to hide ourselves. My dear countrymen, my
sorrows may be your joy, yet mix your smiles with tears, and
pity my case; _I am descended from a house, from two hundred
years before the Conquest, never stained till this my
misfortune. I have a wife and one child; my wife Agnes, my dear
wife, and there's my grief--and six sisters left in my hand--my
poor servants, I know, their master being taken, were
dispersed; for all which I do most heartily grieve_. I expected
some favour, though I deserved nothing less, that the remainder
of my years might in some sort have recompensed my former
guilt; which seeing I have missed, let me now meditate on the
joys I hope to enjoy."

Titchbourne had addressed a letter to his "dear wife Agnes," the night
before he suffered, which I discovered among the Harleian MSS.[79] It
overflows with the most natural feeling, and contains some touches of
expression, all sweetness and tenderness, which mark the Shakspearean
era. The same MS. has also preserved a more precious gem, in a small
poem, composed at the same time, which indicates his genius, fertile in
imagery, and fraught with the melancholy philosophy of a fine and
wounded spirit. The unhappy close of the life of such a noble youth,
with all the prodigality of his feelings, and the cultivation of his
intellect, may still exci