While the Papists were so confounded, that none within the realm durst avow the hearing or saying of Mass, more than the thieves of Liddesdale durst avow their stowth[178] in presence of an upright judge, there were Protestants who were not ashamed, at tables and other open places, to ask, "Why may not the Queen have her own Mass, and the form of her religion? What can that hurt us or our religion?" And from these two, "Why" and "What," at length sprang out this affirmative, "The Queen's Mass and her priests will we maintain: this hand and this rapier shall fight in their defence," etc.... If such dealings, which are common amongst our Protestants, be not to prefer flesh and blood to God, to His truth, to justice, to religion, and to the liberty of this oppressed realm, let the world judge.... [178] Theft. [Sidenote: The Arrival, of Mary, Queen of Scots: a distressing Omen.] On the nineteenth day of August, in the year of God 1561, betwixt seven and eight o'clock in the morning, Mary Queen of Scotland, then widow, arrived with two galleys, from France. In her company (besides her gentlewomen, called the Marys) were her three uncles, the Duke D'Aumale, the Grand Prior, and the Marquis d'Elboeuf. There accompanied her also De Damville, son to the Constable of France, with other gentlemen of inferior condition, besides servants and officers. The very face of heaven, at the time of her arrival, did manifestly proclaim what comfort was brought unto this country with her, to wit, sorrow, dolour, darkness, and all impiety; for in the memory of man, there had never been seen, on that day of the year, a more dolorous face of the heaven, than at her arrival. And so it continued for two days: besides the surface wet, and corruption of the air, the mist was so thick and so dark, that scarcely might any man espy another the length of two pair of boots. The sun was not seen to shine for two days before, nor for two days after. That fore-warning gave God unto us; but, alas, the most part were blind.