n of
Selden and Coke was combined with the ardour of patriots who merit no
inferior celebrity, though not having consecrated their names by their
laborious literature, we only discover them in the obscure annals of
parliament. To our history, composed by writers of different principles,
I refer the reader for the arguments of lawyers, and the spirit of the
commons. My secret history is only its supplement.

The king's prerogative, and the subject's liberty, were points hard to
distinguish, and were established but by contest. Sometimes the king
imagined that "the house pressed not upon the abuses of power, but only
upon power itself." Sometimes the commons doubted whether they had
anything of their own to give; while their property and their persons
seemed equally insecure. Despotism seemed to stand on one side, and
Faction on the other--Liberty trembled!

The conference of the commons before the lords, on the freedom and
person of the subject, was admirably conducted by Selden and by Coke.
When the king's attorney affected to slight the learned arguments and
precedents, pretending to consider them as mutilated out of the records,
and as proving rather against the commons than for them, Sir Edward Coke
rose, affirming to the house, upon his skill in the law, that "it lay
not under Mr. Attorney's cap to answer any one of their arguments."
Selden declared that he had written out all the records from the Tower,
the Exchequer, and the King's Bench, with his own hand; and "would
engage his head, Mr. Attorney should not find in all these archives a
single precedent omitted." Mr. Littleton said, that he had examined
every one _syllabatim_, and whoever said they were mutilated spoke
false! Of so ambiguous and delicate a nature was then the liberty of the
subject, that it seems they considered it to depend on precedents!

A startling message, on the 12th of April, was sent by the king for
despatch of business. The house, struck with astonishment, desired to
have it repeated. They remained sad and silent. No one cared to open
the debate. A whimsical politician, Sir Francis Nethersole,[309]
suddenly started up, entreating leave to tell his last night's dream.
Some laughing at him, he observed, that "kingdoms had been saved by
dreams!" Allowed to proceed, he said, "he saw two good pastures; a flock
of sheep was in the one, and a bell-wether alone in the other; a great
ditch was between them, and a narrow bridge over the ditch."