Events now rapidly developed the Revolution of 1688. Penn had enjoyed the favour of James, and had felt for him some real regard in spite of his faults. So when William became King, his position was difficult in the extreme. He met the danger with characteristic truthfulness and openness. In his maxims, he says, "Nothing needs a trick, but a trick, sincerity loathes one." So he now acted. He avowed his past relations to the dethroned Monarch. He did not pretend to have changed, but he should accept the result of events, and certainly could not conscientiously plot against the Government. He was several times arrested and examined, but his perfect innocence was always clearly established. It might be proved by an intercepted letter that James had written to him, but he answered that he could not prevent that; it did not prove that he had treasonable designs. William, who had been favourably impressed by him at the Hague, believed his assertions.
In 1689, he had the joy of seeing his labours crowned by the passing of the Act of Toleration. For this he had toiled and suffered, written books and held conferences. Now the end was gained, and his friends and other Dissenters might worship God in peace. Yet strange to say, from this time the number of Quakers so far from increasing, diminished. They had thriven in adversity, in prosperity they declined. But probably one great reason was that quietism overspread the Society, and its aggressive efforts languished. Its members continued faithful to their "testimonies," but became sadly careless about the unconverted around them. Their grandest evangelist, Fox, was their strongest bulwark against the quietistic spirit. He not only worked indefatigably himself, but was very successful in stirring up and directing others. In 1690, he was called to his rest. Penn hovered around his dying bed, and when all over, he sent the news to Fox's widow in a letter full of warm sympathy and generous appreciation of his leader, or "honourable elder," as Friends preferred to call him. In spite of Fox's very noticeable imperfections, none could appreciate better than Penn his many excellencies and his energetic and noble-spirited labours. Only a few weeks before, Robert Barclay was laid to rest in his own grounds at Ury. As a gentleman and a scholar, no doubt there were points of sympathy between him and Penn which did not link Fox and Penn. But in aggressive energy, in evangelistic labours, and in entire freedom from the taint of quietism, Fox was much more after Penn's own heart than was Barclay. He edited Fox's journal and Barclay's works, supplying each with an elaborate preface.