except upon compulsion?  He never would have given up his prerogatives; he never meant for a moment to do so.  He was not the man for such a base submission.  Yet he was so worried and threatened by the King, who had taken away from him the government of the Prince, his son, and the custody of certain castles; he was so importuned by the bishops themselves, for fear that the peace of the country would be endangered,—­that in a weak moment he promised to sign the articles, reserving this phrase:  “Saving the honor of his order.”  With this reservation, he thought he could sign the agreement, for he could include under such a phrase whatever he pleased.

But when really called to fulfil his promise and sign with his own hand those constitutions, he wavered.  He burst out in passionate self-reproaches for having made a promise he never intended to keep.  “Never, never!” he said; “I will never do it so long as breath is in my body.”  In his repentance he mortified himself with new self-expiations.  He suspended himself from the service of the altar.  He was overwhelmed with grief, shame, rage, and penitence.  He resolved he would not yield up the privileges of his order, come what might,—­not even if the Pope gave him authority to sign.

The dejected and humbled metropolitan advanced to the royal throne with downcast eye but unfaltering voice; accused himself of weakness and folly, and firmly refused to sign the articles.  “Miserable wretch that I am,” cried he, with bitter tears coursing down his cheeks, “I see the Anglican Church enslaved, in punishment for my sins.  But it is all right.  I was taken from the court, not the cloister, to fill this station; from the palace of Caesar, not the school of the Saviour.  I was a feeder of birds, but suddenly made a feeder of men; a patron of stage-players, a follower of hounds, and I became a shepherd over so many souls.  Surely I am rightly abandoned by God.”

He then took his departure for Canterbury, but was soon summoned to a grand council at Northampton, to answer serious charges.  He was called to account for the sums he had spent as chancellor, and for various alleged injustices.  He was found guilty by a court controlled by the King, and sentenced to pay a heavy fine, which he paid.  The next day new charges were preferred, and he was condemned to a still heavier fine, which he was unable to pay; but he found sureties.  On the next day still heavier charges were made, and new fines inflicted, which would have embarrassed the temporalities of his See.  He now perceived that the King was bent on his ruin; that the more he yielded the more he would be expected to yield.  He therefore resolved to yield no further, but to stand on his rights.