ain interposed, and renewing their demand of particular penitence and
public acknowledgment upon public affairs, Monmouth referred them to the
following paper, which he had signed that morning:

"I declare that the title of king was forced upon me, and that it was
very much contrary to my opinion when I was proclaimed. For the
satisfaction of the world, I do declare that the late king told me he
was never married to my mother. Having declared this, I hope the king
who is now will not let my children suffer on this account. And to
this I put my hand this fifteenth day of July, 1685.

"MONMOUTH."

There was nothing, they said, in that paper about resistance; nor, though
Monmouth, quite worn-out with their importunities, said to one of them,
in the most affecting manner, "I am to die--pray my lord--I refer to my
paper," would those men think it consistent with their duty to desist.
There were only a few words they desired on one point. The substance of
these applications on the one hand, and answers on the other, was
repeated over and over again, in a manner that could not be believed, if
the facts were not attested by the signatures of the persons principally
concerned. If the duke, in declaring his sorrow for what had passed,
used the word invasion, "Give it the true name," said they, "and call it
rebellion." "What name you please," replied the mild-tempered Monmouth.
He was sure he was going to everlasting happiness, and considered the
serenity of his mind in his present circumstances as a certain earnest of
the favour of his Creator. His repentance, he said, must be true, for he
had no fear of dying; he should die like a lamb. "Much may come from
natural courage," was the unfeeling and stupid reply of one of the
assistants. Monmouth, with that modesty inseparable from true bravery,
denied that he was in general less fearful than other men, maintaining
that his present courage was owing to his consciousness that God had
forgiven him his past transgressions, of all which generally he repented
with all his soul.

At last the reverend assistants consented to join with him in prayer, but
no sooner were they risen from their kneeling posture than they returned
to their charge. Not satisfied with what had passed, they exhorted him
to a true and thorough repentance. Would he not pray for the king, and
send a dutiful message to his majesty to recommend the duchess and his
children? "As you pl