replied to the accusation with great composure and strength of argument; and when one Mr. Rich swore against him, he boldly asserted that Rich was perjured, and wished he might never see God’s Countenance in mercy, if what he asserted was not true; besides that, Rich added to perjury, the baseness of betraying private conversation.  But notwithstanding his defence, the jury, who were composed of creatures of the court, brought in their verdict, guilty; and he had sentence of death pronounced against him, which he heard without emotion.  He then made a long speech addressed to the Chancellor, and observed to Mr. Rich, that he was more sorry for his perjury, than for the sentence that had just been pronounced against him:  Rich had been sent by the secretary to take away all Sir Thomas’s books and papers, during which time some conversation passed, which Rich misrepresented in order to advance himself in the King’s favour.  He was ordered again to the Tower till the King’s pleasure should be known.  When he landed at Tower Wharf, his favourite daughter Margaret, who had not seen him since his confinement, came there to take her last adieu, and forgetting the bashfulness and delicacy of her sex, press’d thro’ the multitude, threw her arms about her father’s neck and often embraced him; they had but little conversation, and their parting was so moving, that all the spectators dissolved in tears, and applauded the affection and tenderness of the lady which could enable her to take her farewel under so many disadvantages.

Some time after his condemnation Mr. secretary Cromwel waited on Sir Thomas, and entreated him to accept his Majesty’s pardon, upon the condition of taking the oath, and expressed great tenderness towards him.  This visit and seeming friendship of Cromwel not a little affected him, he revolved in his mind the proposal which he made, and as his fate was approaching, perhaps his resolution staggered a little, but calling to mind his former vows, his conscience, his honour, he recovered himself again, and stood firmly prepared for his fall.  Upon this occasion it was that he wrote the following verses, mentioned both by Mr. Roper and Mr. Hoddeson, which I shall here insert as a specimen of his poetry.

  Ey flattering fortune, loke thou never so fayre,
  Or never so pleasantly begin to smile,
  As tho’ thou would’st my ruine all repayre,
  During my life thou shalt not me begile,
  Trust shall I God to entre in a while
  His haven of heaven sure and uniforme,
  Ever after thy calme loke I for a storme.

On the 6th of July, 1534, in the 54th year of his age, the sentence of condemnation was executed upon him on Tower Hill, by severing his head from his body.  As he was carried to the scaffold, some low people hired by his enemies cruelly insulted him, to whom he gave cool and effectual answers.  Being now under the scaffold, he looked at it with great calmness, and observing it too slenderly built, he said merrily