NOT far from Abingdon, on the London road, was a house belonging to a gentleman named Christopher Ashton. Here, on their way to and fro between the western ounties and the capital, members of parliament, or other busy persons, whom the heat of the times tempted from their homes, occasionally called; and the character of the conversation which was to be heard in that house, may be gathered from the following depositions. On the 4th of January, Sir Nicholas Arnold looked in, and found Sir Henry Dudley there.
January. Malcontent members of parliament and others meet and talk over the news.
"Well, Sir Nicholas, what news?" said Ashton.
"None worth hearing," Arnold answered.
"I am sure you hear they go about a coronation," Dudley said.
"I hear no such matter," said Arnold. "The news that are worth the hearing, are in such men's heads that will not utter them, and the rest are not to be credited."1
"There be news come out of Flanders, as I heard from Sir Peter Mewtas," Ashton, laughing, to another visitor:2 "The king has written to the queen that he will not come hither a great while, or, as men____________________