“It was not long after this that a true report was current in London of the death of Richard of Bordeaux. I could not learn the particulars of it, nor how it happened, the day I wrote these chronicles. Richard of Bordeaux, when dead, was placed on a litter covered with black, and a canopy of the same. Four black horses were harnessed to it, and two varlets in mourning conducted the litter, followed by four knights, dressed also in mourning. Thus they left the Tower of London, where he died, and paraded the streets at a foot’s pace, until they came to Cheapside, which is the greatest thoroughfare in the city, and there they halted upwards of two hours. More than twenty thousand persons of both sexes came to see the King, who lay in the litter, his head on a black cushion, and his face uncovered. “Some pitied him when they saw him in this state, but others did not, saying he had for a long time deserved death. Now consider, ye lords, dukes, prelates, and earls, how very changeable the fortunes of this world are. This King reigned twenty-two years in great prosperity, and with much splendour; for there never was a king of England who expended such sums, by more than one hundred thousand florins, as King Richard did in keeping up his state and his household establishments. I, John Froissart, canon and treasurer of Chimay, know it well; for I witnessed and examined it during my residence with him for a quarter of a year. He made me good cheer, because in my youth I had been secretary to King Edward, his grandfather, and the Lady Philippa of Hainault, Queen of England. When I took my leave of him at Windsor, he presented me, by one of his knights, called Sir John Golofre, a silver-gilt goblet, weighing full two marcs, filled with one hundred nobles, which were then of service to me, and will be so, as long as I live. “I am bound to pray to God for him, and sorry am I to hear of his death; but, as I have dictated and augmented this history to the utmost of my power, it became necessary to mention it, that what became of him might be known. “I saw two strange things in my time, though widely different. I was sitting at dinner, in the city of Bordeaux, when King Richard was born; it was on a Wednesday, on the point of ten o’clock. “At that hour Sir Richard de Pontchardon, then Marshal of Aquitaine, came to me and said--‘Froissart, write, that it may be remembered, my lady the princess is brought to bed of a fine son. He is born on Twelfth-day, the son of a king’s son, and shall be king himself.’ The gallant knight foretold the truth, for he was King of England twenty-two years; but he did not see what was to be the conclusion of his life.