narchy
not as a human, but as a divine institution, and passive obedience and
non-resistance, not as political maxims, but as articles of religion.

At ten o'clock on the 15th Monmouth proceeded in a carriage of the
lieutenant of the Tower to Tower Hill, the place destined for his
execution. The two bishops were in the carriage with him, and one of
them took that opportunity of informing him that their controversial
altercations were not yet at an end, and that upon the scaffold he would
again be pressed for more explicit and satisfactory declarations of
repentance. When arrived at the bar which had been put up for the
purpose of keeping out the multitude, Monmouth descended from the
carriage, and mounted the scaffold, with a firm step, attended by his
spiritual assistants. The sheriffs and executioners were already there.
The concourse of spectators was innumerable; and if we are to credit
traditional accounts, never was the general compassion more affectingly
expressed. The tears, sighs, and groans, which the first sight of this
heartrending spectacle produced, were soon succeeded by a universal and
awful silence; a respectful attention and affectionate anxiety to hear
every syllable that should pass the lips of the sufferer. The duke began
by saying he should speak little; he came to die, and he should die a
Protestant of the Church of England. Here he was interrupted by the
assistants, and told, that if he was of the Church of England, he must
acknowledge the doctrine of non-resistance to be true. In vain did he
reply that if he acknowledged the doctrine of the Church in general it
included all: they insisted he should own that doctrine, particularly
with respect to his case, and urged much more concerning their favourite
point, upon which, however, they obtained nothing but a repetition in
substance of former answers. He was then proceeding to speak of Lady
Harriet Wentworth, of his high esteem for her, and of his confirmed
opinion that their connection was innocent in the sight of God, when
Goslin, the sheriff, asked him, with all the unfeeling bluntness of a
vulgar mind, whether he was ever married to her. The duke refusing to
answer, the same magistrate, in the like strain, though changing his
subject, said he hoped to have heard of his repentance for the treason
and bloodshed which had been committed; to which the prisoner replied,
with great mildness, that he died very penitent. Here the Churchmen
ag