Mr Holyfen,

I greet you from near Shrewsbury, the camp of Prince Rupert and Boy, his notable Poodle, a literary Portrait of which, or whom, I have not Commenced, there being other items of greater Import, to wit:

First, tomorrow Rupert & his horse (appx 800 now by my count) plan to ride tomorrow in the direction of Wolverhampton, guarding the main body of the King's army, which intends to march toward London.

Second, there is Chatter, that the King, perennially cash-poor, plans to welcome Papists to his Camp, and secure their Funds through the sale of Titles and the like.

Point the second is necessary because a shipment of Munitions obtained in Holland by the Queen has been Sequestered in Dutch ports by the States of Holland; a separate Cargo, carried on two Ships, was surrendered by its own Sailors to Parliament; while a third Vessel was driven by Ill weather into Yarmouth and there seized by Parliament.

Nevertheless the mood in the Camp is closer to Jubilee than Despair; the general Sense being that Prince Rupert will so overawe and crush the mechanics and feltmakers and clerks of Essex' army that neither funds nor arms are needed to return Charles to his proper place in Whitehall, where he will mete Just Judgment to traitors and the like in a bloody fashion (to judge from the Talk of Rupert's troopers when in their Cups, which is more often the case than not.)

I am, sir, &c,

William Firth, with the Horse of Rupert, preparing to leave Shrewsbury.

PS, I thought I observed Mr Halpenny in conference with Mr Hyde & Falkland but cannot be sure.