Indeed Wolsey knew that war was absolutely impossible for want of money; but it was useless to say so to the king. He was bound to try and raise supplies by some means or other, and his experience of the last Parliament had shown him that there was no more to be obtained from that source. In his extremity Wolsey undertook the responsibility of reviving a feudal obligation which had long been forgotten. He announced that the king purposed to pass the sea in person, and demanded that the goodwill of his subjects should provide for his proper equipment. But the goodwill of the people was not allowed the privilege of spontaneous generosity. Commissioners were appointed in every shire to assess men's property, and require a sixth part of it for the king's needs. Wolsey himself addressed the citizens of London. When they gave a feeble assent to his request for advice, "whether they thought it convenient that the king should pass the sea with an army or not," he proceeded, "Then he must go like a prince, which cannot be without your aid." He unfolded his proposals for a grant of 3s. 4d. in the pound on £50 and upwards, 2s. 8d. on £20 and upwards, and 1s. in the pound on £1 and upwards. Some one pleaded that the times were bad. "Sirs," said Wolsey, "speak not to break what is concluded, for some shall not pay even a tenth; and it were better that a few should suffer indigence than the king at this time should lack. Beware, therefore, and resist not, nor ruffle not in this case; otherwise it may fortune to cost some their heads." This was indeed a high-handed way of dealing with a public meeting, which was only summoned to hear the full measure of the coming calamity. We cannot wonder that "all people cursed the cardinal and his adherents as subverters of the laws and liberty of England." Nor was Wolsey ignorant of the unpopularity which he incurred; but there was no escape possible. He rested only on the king's favour, and he knew that the king's personal affection for him had grown colder. He was no longer the king's friend and tutor, inspiring him with his own lofty ideas and slowly revealing his far-reaching schemes. Late years had seen Wolsey immersed in the business of the State, while the king pursued his own pleasures, surrounded by companions who did their utmost to undermine Wolsey's influence. They advocated war, while he longed for peace; they encouraged the royal extravagance, while he worked for economy; they favoured the imperial alliance and humoured Henry's dreams of the conquest of France, while Wolsey saw that England's strength lay in a powerful neutrality. The king's plans had deviated from the lines which Wolsey had designed, and the king's arbitrary temper had grown more impatient of restraint. Wolsey had imperceptibly slipped from the position of a friend to that of a servant, and he was dimly conscious that his continuance in the royal service depended on his continued usefulness.