An unsuccessful attempt was made to surprise the castle, in order to favour the restoration of Charles the second, in 1654, but it ended merely in plunging the king’s friends still deeper in misery and ruin: among the most active in this enterprise was Sir Thomas Harris, who suffered most severely for his well intended zeal. After Cromwell’s death, and the restoration of the long parliament, upon Sir George Booth’s rising in Cheshire for the king, the venerable Sir Thomas Middleton, then 80 years of age, proclaimed him at Wrexham, which so much encouraged the royalists of Shropshire and Denbighshire, that they immediately sent a party to seize Shrewsbury, but though the friends of monarchy were very numerous in it, Captain Edmund Waringe of Oldbury, the governor, prevented their design, and secured the place for the parliament. In 1683, when the nation was thrown into a ferment, by the discovery of the Rye House Plot, this town was one of those which the conspirators, presuming on its general disaffection to the government of Charles the second, proposed to have seized. Such at least was the deposition of the infamous Colonel Romsey, a wretch on whose head lies the blood of the virtuous and patriotic Russel—who adds, in his narrative, that there were in the castle 38 barrels of powder, 138 pounds in the barrel, with arms for 300 men and great guns. “The castle,” he, observes, “is strong by situation, and lies so conveniently, that either from the north or west, or Midland, or Wales, the rebellious party might easily resort thither.” The last royal visit paid to this town was by the bigotted James the second, who passed the 25th of August, 1687, here, and kept his court at the Council House. The sentiments of loyal attachment, for which Shrewsbury has ever been conspicuous, burst forth on this occasion, with chivalrous enthusiasm.—They blazed in bonfires and illuminations, and literally ran through the streets in torrents of wine, the public conduits being charged with this royal liquid.