IV, King of England.  His council advised him by all means to make himself master of some good walled town; as well to make his men find the sweetness of rich spoils, and to allure to him all loose and lost people, by like hopes of booty as to be a sure retreat to his forces in case they should have any ill day or unlucky chance of the field.  Wherefore they took heart to them and went on, and besieged the city of Exeter, the principal town for strength and wealth in those parts.

Perkin, hearing the thunder of arms, and preparations against him from so many parts, raised his siege, and marched to Taunton, beginning already to squint one eye upon the crown and another upon the sanctuary; though the Cornish men were become, like metal often fired and quenched, churlish, and that would sooner break than bow; swearing and vowing not to leave him till the uttermost drop of their blood were spilt.  He was at his rising from Exeter between six and seven thousand strong, many having come unto him after he was set before Exeter, upon fame of so great an enterprise, and to partake of the spoil, though upon the raising of his siege some did slip away.

When he was come near Taunton, he dissembled all fear, and seemed all the day to use diligence in preparing all things ready to fight.  But about midnight he fled with threescore horses to Bewdley[3], in the New Forest, where he and divers of his company registered themselves sanctuary-men, leaving his Cornish men to the four winds, but yet thereby easing them of their vow, and using his wonted compassion not to be by when his subjects’ blood should be spilt.  The King, as soon as he heard of Perkin’s flight, sent presently five hundred horse to pursue and apprehend him before he should get either to the sea or to that same little island called a sanctuary.  But they came too late for the latter of these.  Therefore all they could do was to beset the sanctuary, and to maintain a strong watch about it, till the King’s pleasure were further known.

Perkin, having at length given himself up, was brought into the King’s court, but not to the King’s presence; though the King, to satisfy his curiosity, saw him sometimes out of a window or in passage.  He was in show at liberty, but guarded with all care and watch that were possible, and willed to follow the King to London.  But from his first appearance upon the stage in his new person of a sycophant or juggler, instead of his former person of a prince, all men may think how he was exposed to the derision not only of the courtiers, but also of the common people, who flocked about him as he went along, that one might know afar off where the owl was by the flight of birds; some mocking, some wondering, some cursing, some prying and picking matter out of his countenance and gesture to talk of; so that the false honor and respects, which he had so long enjoyed, were plentifully repaid in scorn and contempt.