Nugae Antiquae
By
Sir John Harington

Published by the Ex-Classics Project, 2021

Public Domain



Bibliographic and Editorial Note

Sir John Harington, courtier to Elizabeth I and author of The
Metamorphosis of Ajax, a description of the first flush toilet, died
in 1612. In 1769 his descendant Henry Harington, M.A. edited some of
his papers, and published them under the title Nugae Antiquae. This
includes letters and essays by Harington, and also work by other
writers. A revised and expanded edition was published in 1804 by
Thomas Park.

This Ex-Classics edition is based on the Park version. Only those
items written by Harington himself have been included. Spelling and
capitalization have been modernised. Additional notes and
translations of Latin have been added. The translation of the Latin
biography of Bishop William Wickham is by Quintus Holland.



Title Page

NUGAE ANTIQUAE:
BEING A
MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION
OF
ORIGINAL PAPERS,
IN PROSE AND VERSE;
WRITTEN
DURING THE REIGNS OF HENRY VIII, EDWARD VI, QUEEN MARY,
ELIZABETH, AND KING JAMES:
BY
SIR JOHN HARINGTON, KNT.
And by others who lived in those Times.
======================================
SELECTED FROM AUTHENTIC REMAINS
BY THE LATE HENRY HARINGTON, M. A.
AND NEWLY ARRANGED,
WITH ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES,
BY
THOMAS PARK, F. S. A
======================================
VOL. I.
======================================
We ought to judge of the editions of books as we judge of men;—none
are
perfect, and the best are good only by comparison. Church.
========================================
LONDON:
Printed by J. Wight, Denmark-Court, Strand,
FOR VERNOR AND ROOD, POULTRY, AND CUTHELL AND
MARTIN, MIDDLE ROW, HOLBORN.
1804.



ADVERTISEMENT
Of the revised edition

Certain gems that pretend not to more than moderate intrinsic worth,
are yet found to acquire additional estimation from diversity of
setting: the contents of some books may be presumed to do the same,
by an improved transposal of their several parts. Such adventitious
value is here attempted to be given to these antiquated trifles, by
a different display of the pieces formerly published by Mr. Henry
Harington, from a collection of MSS. which descended from his
literary ancestor to the present ingenious and well-known Dr.
Harington of Bath. In prosecuting this attempt, I must express my
personal obligations to Edmond Malone, Esq. for the readiness with
which his corrected copy of these NUGAE was imparted, and for
various hints that served to facilitate the process of chronological
arrangement. Nor ought the habitual kindnesses of those
distinguished antiquaries James Bindley and Francis Douce, Esqrs. to
deter me, on the present occasion, from acknowledging the friendly
services afforded by their very valuable libraries. To the learned
and liberal editor of Milton's poetical works I am indebted for some
estimable observations; and my particular thanks are due to
Professor Dalzel, to Dr. Leyden and Dr. Anderson of Edinburgh, for
their united assistance in procuring an unpublished poem by Sir John
Harington, from the library of King James's college. To Mr.
Professor Porson of Cambridge, to Edmund Lodge, Esq. of the Heralds'
college, and to John Cooper Walker, Esq. of St. Valeri, near Dublin,
my respectful acknowledgments must also be made for very flattering
attentions.

In reconducting this miscellany to the press, I have taken the
liberty of rejecting several prose pieces, which had appeared in
preceding editions, and of inserting others, that seemed to possess
stronger claims for admission into a mélange suranné.<1> Much of the
former poetry is likewise omitted, from having proved on examination
to be printed in Tottell's early assemblage of songs and sonnets; "a
garland," says our elegant Warton, "in which it was the fashion for
every flowery courtier to leave some of his blossoms." As this
garland is again preparing for public exhibition by the accomplished
hand of Bishop Percy, such omissions became more forcibly
authorised.

The State of the Church, which is curious for its biographical and
historical notices, has been amplified and revised, from collation
with an original MS. copy in the British Museum, apparently
presented by its author to Prince Henry Frederick, anno 1607.

The sketch of Sir John Harington's life has also received additions;
and notes of personal or political illustration are interspersed
throughout, for which the present editor is alone responsible,
should they be deemed nugacious or supererogatory.<2> The only
candid excuse he can offer is—that he has endeavoured, in some
slight degree, to render this such a publication as it would have
given him pleasure to have found it.


T. PARK.



SOME ACCOUNT OF SIR JOHN HARINGTON,
of Kelston, Knight.

The once celebrated author of the principal papers here collected,
was descended from a respectable family in Cumberland, whose
ancestor, Sir James Harington, was attainted in the reign of Henry
the Seventh,<3> for bearing arms at the battle of Towton, and taking
Henry the Sixth prisoner; his estates forfeited to the crown,
amounting to five and twenty considerable manors in the north.
Notwithstanding this attachment to the house of York, his succeeding
generations were well received at the court of Henry the Eighth,
where John Harington,<4> of Stepney, the father of our author, held
a considerable office, and united himself in marriage to a natural
daughter of Henry; with whom the King gave, as dower, the forfeited
church lands of Kelston,<5> &c. upon which he is said to have built
the largest house at that time in Somersetshire. In the reign of
Queen Mary he was imprisoned eleven months in the Tower, with his
second wife, Isabella Markham, for carrying a letter to the Princess
Elizabeth.<6> Their zealous attachment to this lady, during her
confinement; established them so firmly in her favour, that she
retained them in her service when Queen, and stood god-mother to
their son, our author, as a mark of her friendly remembrance of
their sufferings on her account.

It appears that Sir John was born at Kelston; near Bath, in 1561;<7>
that he was educated at Eton,<8> and afterwards entered at Christ's
College, in Cambridge, under the care of Doctor Still.<9> For a
short time he appears to have studied the law. This is deducible
from his Metamorphosis of Ajax, where he describes himself as a puny
[puisne] of Lincolns-Inn, though he confesses that "he studied
Lyttleton but to the title of discontinuance." The advantages of a
good education, and an excellent understanding, soon recommended him
to the notice of the Queen, who encouraged him in his pursuit of
learning. Fuller has celebrated his proficiency in literature and
poesy; which, together with the Queen's regard for his parents, soon
brought him to court. Here he distinguished himself by his wit and
erudition, and gained the esteem of all ranks, and of both sexes.
Being well versed in the Italian language, he translated a tale<10>
out of Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, which was highly pleasing to the
ladies; but the Queen, who was not unacquainted with what passed
around her, soon got a sight of her god-son's poetry, and, thinking
it proper to affect indignation at some indelicate passages, forbad
our author the Court, till he had translated the entire work. This
he accomplished, and dedicated to herself, in 1591.<11>

Another literary production, which is now very scarce, made its
appearance in 1596,, and is entitled—A new Discourse of a stale
Subject, called the Metamorphosis of Ajax; otherwise, a jakes. It
was occasioned, as Mr. Harington reported, by the author's having
invented a kind of water-closet for his house at Kelston. In this
little work we find extensive reading and infinite humour, combined
with the satiric grossness of Swift; but several of the persons
alluded to, and intended to be satirised, are unknown to us at this
time. It appears, however, to have contained certain sarcasms on men
in high stations, and particularly to have levelled some inuendo
against the Earl of Leicester; whence it called forth much apparent
displeasure, even from the Queen;<12> and Mr. Harington avers, that 
the author escaped Star-Chamber inquisition rather from the Queen's
secret attachment to him, (which the courtiers well knew,) than from
any favour or lenity in themselves. Several epigrams respecting this
book, and the Queen's reconciliation to the author, are printed at
the end of his translation of Orlando Furioso, 1634, and had three
previous impressions.

The indulgence which Harington experienced from his Royal Mistress,
contributed to the number of his productions, as well as to their
poignancy. His reputation for a sarcastic species of writing, which
in that age was not so common as it has been since, gained him both
admiration and fear. We are told by Fuller,<13> that, at an
ordinary<14> in Bath, where our author dined with a numerous
company, the servant maid who attended was observed to be more
attentive to him than to the other guests. This partiality
occasioned an enquiry from Harington, why she was so particularly
officious in waiting upon him? To which the damsel replied, "I
understand you are a very witty man; and if I should displease you
in anything, I fear you would make an epigram of me."

He married the daughter of Sir George Rogers,<15> of Cannington,
Somersetshire, by whom he appears to have had eight children.<16> It
is not surprising that a man of so volatile a disposition, and so
gay a turn, amid the favours of a court, and the flattery of
dependants, should be profuse in his expenses. Though his fortune,
therefore, was considerable, (for Fuller tells us he was a poet in
all things but in poverty,) yet his extravagance was still greater,
and he was obliged to part with some of his estates, particularly
one called Nyland. Soon after this happened, he was riding over the
very spot, and, with his usual pleasantry, said to his man John,

"John, John, this Nyland,
Alas! was once my land."

To which John as merrily and truly replied,

"If you had had more wit, Sir,
It might have been yours yet, Sir."

Which answer (to use our author's own words) makes us feel, that
there is often "craft in a clouted shoe."

The brilliancy of his talents, and the vivacity of his temper, did
not, however, obliterate the virtues of his heart.<17> A spirit of
promoting laudable works was manifested' on many occa sions. One
instance deserves to be related: it respects the repairing the abbey
church of Bath; to which Sir John was most zealously inclined, and
is said to have effected by means of the following stratagem.
Conversing one day with bishop Montague, near the abbey, it happened
to rain, which afforded an opportunity of asking the bishop to
shelter himself within the church. Especial care was taken, to
convey the prelate into that aisle which had been spoiled of its
lead, and was nearly roofless. As this situation was far from
securing his lordship against the weather, he remarked to his merry
companion that it did not shelter him from the rain. "Doth it not,
my lord?" said Sir John, "then let me sue your bounty towards
covering our poor church; for if it keep not us safe from the waters
above, how shall it ever save others from the fire beneath? At which
jest the bishop was so well pleased, that he became a liberal
benefactor both of timber and lead; and this benefaction procured a
complete roofing to the north aisle of the abbey church, after it
had lain in ruins for many years.

The favour of the Queen, it may be presumed, was not solely grounded
on her opinion of Sir John's abundant wit and pleasantry.<18> It
appears that his general character was such as obtained the esteem
of his sovereign, and was the cause of his being employed on
occasional services with the most distinguished characters of his
time. On the appointment of the Earl of Essex to be Lord Lieutenant
of Ireland, in 1599, he was made a commander of horse, under Lord
Southampton, in his service.<19> The history of this expedition was
found among his papers, with an account of each day's transaction,
as delivered to the Queen.<20> On the unexpected and impolitic
return of Lord Essex from Ireland, our author<21> was one of the few
officers whom he chose to accompany him. History has fully informed
us what an unfavourable reception was met with by the Earl; and it
is not to be wondered at, if the Queen was displeased with those who
followed him. By the private letters of our author, we are informed
that this was his own case. Yet, at another audience, he speaks of
what he felt at the Queen's reconcilement, and says, "he seemed to
hear like St. Paul, when rapt up in the third heaven." There is a
minute description, in Lord Essex's journal, of his negotiation with
the Irish rebel Tyrone, at which Sir John was not present: and this
might have proved to his advantage. After the return and disloyalty
of Essex, the Queen was too much engaged in political embarrassments
of various kinds, to take much delight in men of learning, or attend
to any affairs which did not immediately concern the public welfare.
Our author seems, at this period, to have retired to his seat at
Kelston, where he was principally busied in cultivating his estates,
and improving that fortune which had been considerably impaired by
wearing so long at court.

On the accession of James, we find him again brought forth to view;
his poetical talents were employed to panegyrise the new king, and
he soon became a literary favourite with the monarch, who affected
learning, and abounded in pedantry. By King James he was created a 
Knight of the Bath. A correspondence was commenced, and interviews
passed between them.<22>

The Brief State of the Church, as it stood in King James's reign,
was undertaken as a supplement to Doctor Godwin's Catalogue of
Bishops, at a time when the church of England was beginning to be
divided into sectaries: and being written by an author of
respectability, who was well acquainted with many of the persons
whose characters he has drawn, the authenticity of his
representations may generally, perhaps, be relied on. He presented
the MS. copy of this work to Prince Henry,<23> and intended it only
for the private use of his Royal Highness; but, being published many
years afterward, by his maternal grandson, Dr. Chetwind, it created
much clamour, and made several of our clergy say, that the writer's
conduct agreed with his doctrines; since he, together with Robert,
Earl of Leicester, supported Raleigh, in his suit to Queen
Elizabeth, for the manor of Banwell, (belonging to the bishopric of
Bath and Wells,) on a presumption that the Right Reverend Incumbent
had incurred a praemunire, by marrying a second wife.<24>

Our author's zeal for church government favoured this undertaking,
and so great was his dislike to the favourers of Puritanism, that it
is said he committed his son to the care of one of the most rigid
observers of those tenets, from a full persuasion that nothing would
be more effectual to make him detest their principles, than to be
conversant with them. Whether this was the real case, cannot now,
perhaps, be ascertained; but it is reported that the son was
inclined to favour puritanical doctrines, and made a conspicuous
figure in the parliaments of Charles and Oliver: so little did the
father's care avail, in guarding the son from those errors he wished
him to avoid. Indeed, the experiment was too dangerous to be adopted
by a prudent or sensible parent, and requires more satisfactory
evidence before it be admitted as a fact, than mere traditional
rumour.

Fuller, Collier, Dryden, and others, have spoken with respect of our
author's abilities as an English writer, considering the age he
lived in: and in Stowe's Annals, he is enumerated among those
excellent poets which worthily flourish in their own works, and
lived together in Queen Elizabeth's reign. He had formed a plan, it
is said, for writing the history of his own times, but did not live
to execute it. He died in 1612,<25> aged fifty-one. Collinson
records the following memorials, as placed within the communion
rails of the church at Kelston.

"In memory of Sir John Harington, knight, 1612; and Lady Mary,
wife of Sir John, daughter of Sir George Rogers, 1634."

His translation of Ariosto, with Apology of Poetry prefixed; his
Ajax, Epigrams,<26> and School of Salerne, with the State of the
Church, are the only productions hitherto published. Many other
manuscripts, both in prose and verse, were left behind him. Peck, in
his Desiderata, (vi. 13.) speaks of Verses on the Death of Mary
Queen of Scots, by Sir John Harington; MS. manu Fleming. His entire
version of the Psalms is in the collection of Francis Douce, Esq. An
unedited poem, entitled England's Poverty, occurs in the catalogue
of the Ashmolean MSS. but in the catalogue only; and a poetical New
Year's Gift to King James, is preserved in the college library,
Edinburgh. His Succinct Collection of History, and his Compendious
Observations on the Emperors' Lives, are spoken of in Ulysses upon
Ajax, a feeble retort on Harington's Cloacinean satire: respecting
which tract the ingenious Mrs. Cooper committed a laughable mistake,
in supposing it to have been "meant for a court-amusement." That
lady's laconic character of our knight is less inaccurate, and may
therefore suitably close this brief account of his life.
"Sir John Harington appears to have been a gentleman of great
pleasantry and humour; his fortune was easy, the court his
element, and wit, not his business, but diversion."

Muses' Library, p. 297.



ORDERS FOR HOUSEHOLD SERVANTS;
First devised by John Harington, in the Year 1566, and renewed by
John Harington, Son of the said John, in the Year 1592: the said
John, the Son, being then High Sheriff of the County of Somerset.

Imprimis, That no servant be absent from prayer, at morning or
evening, without a lawful excuse, to be alleged<27> within one day
after, upon pain to forfeit for every time 2d.

II. Item, That none swear any oath, upon pain for every oath 1d.

III. Item, That no man leave any door open that he findeth shut,
without there be cause, upon pain for every time 1d.

IV. Item, That none of the men be in bed, from our Lady-day to
Michaelmas,<28> after 6 of the clock in the morning; nor out of his
bed after 10 of the clock at night; nor, from Michaelmas till our
Lady-day, in bed after 7 in the morning; nor out after 9 at night,
without reasonable cause, on pain of 2d.

V. That no man's bed be unmade, nor fire or candle-box unclean,
after 8 of the clock in the morning, on pain of 1d.

VI. Item, That no man make water within either of the courts, upon
pain of, every time it shall be proved, 1d.

VII. Item, That no man teach any of the children any unhonest
speech, or bawdy word, or oath, on pain of 4d.

VIII. Item, That no man wait at the table, without a trencher in his
hand, except it be upon some good cause, on pain of 1d.

IX. Item, That no man appointed to wait at my table, be absent that
meal, without reasonable cause, on pain of 1d.

X. Item, If any man break a glass, he shall answer the price thereof
out of his wages; and, if it be not known who break it, the butler
shall pay for it, on pain of 12d.

XI. Item, The table must be covered, half an hour before 11 at
dinner, and 6 at supper, or before, on pain of 2d.

XII. Item, That meat be ready at 11 or before at dinner, and 6 or
before at supper, on pain of 6d.

XIII. Item, That none be absent, without leave or good cause, the
whole day, or any part of it, on pain of 4d.

XIV. Item, That no man strike his fellow, on pain of loss of
service; nor revile or threaten, or provoke another to strike, on
pain of 12d.

XV. Item, That no man come to the kitchen without reasonable cause,
on pain of 1d. and the cook likewise to forfeit 1d.

XVI. Item, That none toy with the maids, on pain of 4d.

XVII. Item, That no man wear a foul shirt on Sunday, nor broken hose
or shoes, or doublet without buttons, on pain of 1d.

XVIII. Item, That when any stranger goeth hence, the chamber be
dressed up again within 4 hours after, on pain of 1d.

XIX. Item, That the hall be made clean every day, by eight in the
winter, and seven in the summer, on pain of him that should do it to
forfeit 1d.

XX. That the court-gate be shut each meal, and not opened during
dinner and supper, without just cause, on pain the porter to forfiet
for every time 1d.

XXI. Item, That all stairs in the house, and other rooms that need
shall require, be made clean on Friday after dinner, on pain of
forfeiture of every one whom it shall belong unto, 3d.

All of which sums shall be duly paid each quarter-day out of their
wages, and bestowed on the poor, or other godly use



BRIEF NOTES AND REMEMBRANCES.
From Sir John Harington's papers.

April 4th, 1594.

It was bruited<29> at court that David Areskine, a Scottish man, had
basely reviled the Queen's Majesty, by saying "she was cozened by
the devil, and sold her faith for hypocrisy, in the matter of the
Queen of Scotland's death"—It doth not behove us ordinary men to
touch on extraordinary affairs. "God directeth princely councils,"
saith Sir William W—;<30> and yet, God wot, Sir William is a shallow
wight.— Heaven defend mortal man from hypocrisy!

————

I came home to Kelstone, and found my Mall, my children, and my
cattle, all well fed, well taught, and well beloved. ''tis not so at
court; ill breeding with ill feeding, and no love but that of the
lusty god of gallantry, Asmodeus. I am to send good store of news
from the country, for her Highness' entertainment. I shall not leave
behind my neighbour Cotton's horn, for a plentiful horn it is—Her
Highness loveth merry tales—My house at Bath I have promised to
young Shelton, who may do me kindness with his Lord; and as for his
Lady, I will do my kindness as I shall liken myself.—Must not talk
more about Spanish grandeur, and well-shapen mustachios.

————

Sunday, June 14. The Queen's Majesty tasted my wife's comfits, and
did much praise her cunning in the making.—Send no more: for other
ladies' jealousy worketh against my Mall's comfits, and this will
not comfort her.— I will write a damnable story, and put it in
goodly verse, about Lord A—;<31> he hath done me some ill turns.—God
keep us from lying and slander work.

————

The Queen stood up, and bade me reach forth my arm to rest her
thereon. Oh, what sweet burden to my next song!—Petrarch shall eke
out good matter for this business.

————

The sweet lady's suit to her Majesty I will forward.—would God I
never had so many suits of mine own to forward with ladies as I have
heretofore.—Militavi non sine gloria.<32> The Queen loveth to see me
in my last frieze jerkin, and saith ''tis well enough cut. I will
have another made like to it. I do remember she spit on Sir
Matthew's<33> fringed cloth, and said, the fool's wit was gone to
rags.—Heaven spare me from such jibing.

I talked much to the Treasurer on sundry matters lately, which hath
been reported.

Who liveth in courts, must mark what they say,
Who liveth for ease, had better live away.

————

In August I was much troubled at sundry grievances from divers men
in high states; but envy doth haunt many, and breed jealousy. I will
bid adieu to good company, and leave suing and seeking at court; for
if I have no more friends nor better at Heaven's court than at this,
I shall begin to think somewhat of brief damnation.

————

I have spent my time, my fortune, and almost my honesty, to buy
false hope, false friends, and shallow praise;—and be it rememberd,
that he who casteth up this reckoning of a courtly minion, will set
his sum like a fool at the end, for not being a knave at the
beginning. Oh, that I coud boast with chanter David, In te speravi,
Domine.<34>

I must turn my poor wits towards my suit for my lands in the north.
Sir Ralph H— <35> biddeth me move the Queen's Majesty in my behalf,
and that stoutly; she loveth plain dealings, and I will not lie unto
her. The Earl doth tell me one way, but I shall not abide thereby; I
have seen those fail by such devices.—I must go in, an early hour,
before her Highness hath special matters brought up to council on.—I
must go before the breakfasting covers are placed, and stand
uncovered as her Highness cometh forth her chamber;—then kneel and
say, "God save your Majesty, I crave your ear at what hour may suit
for your servant to meet your blessed countenance" Thus will I gain
her favour to follow to the auditory.

Trust not a friend to do or say
In that yourself can sue or pray.

————

Yesterday I was near drunken, and today am near sick, and perchance
tomorrow may be both sick and sorry; my cousin did chide me, and
said, "I bade my man light his taper at the moon." It may be so,
Horace saith

Cœlum ipsum petimus stultitia<36>

————

I see some men who love gaming, some men who love wenching, some men
who love wine, and some who love trenchering:<37>—These oft find an
empty purse, running reins,<38> an aching head, and grumbling guts.
Now, what findeth he who loveth the "pride of life," the court's
vanity, ambition's puffball? In sooth, no more than empty words,
grinning scale, watching nights, and fawning days.—

Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum.<39>

————

One Sunday (April last) my Lord of London<40> preached to the
Queen's Majesty, and seemed to touch on the vanity of decking the
body too finely.—Her Majesty told the ladies, that "If the bishop
held more discourse on such matters, she would fit him for heaven,
but he should walk thither without a staff, and leave his mantle
behind him:" perchance the bishop hath never sought her Highness'
wardrobe, or he would have chosen another text.

————

I hear I am marked out for the next year's Sheriff for the County of
Somerset.<41> I will not gibe at the judge, as my neighbour did,
when he was appointed to that charge, and with more wit than good
heed, told the judge, who complained of stony roads, and feared much
the dangers of our western travelling; "In good sooth, Sir, it be
but fair play, that you, who so oft make others fear for their
necks, should in some sort begin to think of saving your own."
Herewith Judge Minos was not well pleased, but said, "Good master
Sheriff, leave alone my neck, and look to your own heels, for you
may one day be laid by them." Nor did his anger here rest, for on
very slight offence in court, he fined my witty neighbour five
pounds: Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum.<39>.— So shall I
(when in such company) make no account of the county ways, but look
well to my own.

————

I must not forget to call on the Treasurer: he that doth not love
the man, will have little favour with the mistress, and I am in good
liking with both, praised be God.—My Lord of Essex is also my
friend, and that not in bad sort. He bids me lay good hold on her
Majesty's bounty, and ask freely. I will attend tomorrow, and leave
this little poesy behind her cushion at my departing from her
presence.

TO THE QUEEN'S MAJESTY.<42>
Forever dear, for ever dreaded Prince,
You read a verse of mine a little since,
And so pronounc'st each word, and every letter,
Your gracious reading grac'st my verse the better:
Sith<43> then your Highness doth, by gift exceeding,
Make what you read the better for your reading;
Let my poor muse your pains thus far importune,
Like as you read my verse, so—read my Fortune.

From your Highness' saucy godson.
————

Note here, how much will a man even benefit his enemy, provided he
doth put him out of his own way? My Lord of Essex did lately want
Sir George Carew<44> to be Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, rather than
his own uncle, Sir William Knollys,<45> because he had given him
some cause of offence, and by thus thrusting him into high office,
he would remove him from court.

————

October [1598]. I this day went to the new Lord High Treasurer, Lord
Buckhirst; I was not ill received, nor, in sooth, so well as I had
been used to in the day of Lord Burleigh. When shall our realm see
such a man, or when such a mistress have such a servant; well might
one weep when the other died.<46> This choice doth well assure us
that in the wit of the servant dwelleth the master's fortune, and
that all states have thriven better or worse, as the government was
given to such as were honest as well as able. If a king hath not
discernment to choose a few wise heads, how shall he subdue the many
foolish hearts; or how shall the leaves and blossom flourish when
the sap is corrupted at the root of the plant? I coud herewith cite
many good authorities both Greek and Latin, to prove this mine
opinion, but I do remember what Burleigh did once say, in my
hearing, to Walsingham, who had been waiting to confer with him
about many great matters, whereof I had borne some part, in bearing
a message from the Queen to Hatton. When my Lord Treasurer did come
in from prayers, Sir Francis Walsingham did in merry sort say, that
"he wished himself so good a servant of God as Lord Burleigh, but
that he had not been at church for a week past." Now my Lord
Burleigh did gravely reply thus;—"I hold it meet for us to ask God's
grace to keep us sound of heart, who have so much in our power, and
to direct us to the well-doing of all the people, whom it is easy
for us to injure and ruin; and herein, my good friends, the special
blessing seemeth meet to be discreetly asked and wisely worn." I did
not a little marvel at this good discourse, to see how a good man
considereth his weighty charge, and striveth to keep out Satan from
corrupting the heart in discharge of his duties. How few have such
hearts or such heads; and therefore shall I note this for those that
read hereafter.

————

It is worthy noting, when we find how little sure happiness is
allotted even to the mighty on earth. Philip [II.] of Spain reigned
forty-two years in troubles and disquietudes,<47> lost his
provinces, whilst he was striving to enlarge his possessions, and
then in old age was eaten by lice when living: "God grant me no
further ambition than to be eaten by worms when I am dead!" and this
I said to the Queen.

————

The Queen seemed troubled today; Hatton came out from her presence
with ill countenance, and pulled me aside by the girdle, and said,
in secret way, "If you have any suit to day, I pray you put it
aside, the sun doth not shine." ''tis this accursed Spanish
business; so will not I adventure her Highness' choler, lest she
should collar me also.

————

News from the ambassadors to France:—Wilkes<48> died at Paris. God
speed Cecil and Herbert, or we shall ill speed at home. It is a base
matter in Henry of France, to make peace without his allies and
friends: I coud wish her Highness could once round him in the ear
about this matter; she seemeth in apt sort for such business, for
she called him, in my hearing, "the Antichrist of ingratitude."

————

[1599.] The Irishry are much given to whoredom, as I saw at Munster,
where the soldiers, without clothes on their backs or food in their
bellies, were lying under hedges with marvelous ill favoured
wenches, whom they would rather perish for, than fight for; and
hereby were much injury to their cause, for nothing but stripes
could bring them to their duty. They likewise are abusive in their
discourse; and yet they do appear (in the upper sort) very kind and
hospitable to all newcomers, as I did well experience in this
country, even so much as (if my own lands were here) I would hazard
my dwelling with them for life. I was often well entertained, and in
some sort got ill will for speaking in praise of their civil usage
among our own commanders, whom I often told that tho' I was sent out
to fight with some, there did appear no reason for my not eating
with others. I was well used, and therefore am in duty bound to
speak well of the Irishry.

The Queen did once ask my wife in merry sort, "how she kept my good
will and love, which I did always mantain to be truly good towards
her and my children?" My Mall, in wise and discreet manner, told her
Highness, "she had confidence in her husband's understanding and
courage, well founded on her own steadfastness not to offend or
thwart, but to cherish and obey; hereby did she persuade her husband
of her own affection, and in so doing did command his." "Go to, go
to, mistress," saith the Queen, "you are wisely bent I find; after
such sort do I keep the good will of all my husbands, my good
people; for if they did not rest assured of some special love toward
them, they would not readily yield me such good obedience."—This
deserveth noting, as being both wise and pleasant.

————

What perils have I escaped! I was entrusted by Essex, whom I did
adventure to visit, with a message to the Queen's Majesty, setting
forth his contrition and sore grievance for his many offences. I was
right glad to hear such contrition, and laboured to effect this
matter; but ere I could bear these tidings, (which I was well
advised to do,) the Earl's petition reached her hand, and I fear her
displeasure too, but herein I bore no part I was much encouraged to
go through this friendly part on many sides, but I said,—"Charity
did begin at home, and should always sail with a fair wind, or it
was not likely to be a prosperous voyage." I had nearly been wrecked
on the Essex coast in my last venture, as I told the Queen, had it
not been for the sweet calm of her special forgiveness. I have heard
much on both hands, but the wiser he who reporteth nothing hereof.
Did either know what I know either have said, it would not work much
to contentment or good liking.

————

It resteth with me in opinion, that ambition thwarted in its career,
doth speedily lead on to madness; herein I am strengthened by what I
learn in my lord of Essex, who shifteth from sorrow and repentance
to rage and rebellion so suddenly, as well proveth him devoid of
good reason or right mind. In my last discourse,<49> he uttered
strange words bordering on such strange designs, that made me hasten
forth and leave his presence. Thank heaven! I am safe at home, and
if I go in such troubles again, I deserve the gallows for a meddling
fool. His speeches of the Queen becometh no man who hath mens sana
in corpore sano<50>. He hath ill advisers, and much evil hath sprung
from this source. The Queen well knoweth how to humble the haughty
spirit; the haughty spirit knoweth not how to yield, and the man's
soul seemeth tossed to and fro, like the waves of a troubled sea.

————

[Kelston.] 1603. Here now will I rest my troubled mind, and tend my
sheep like an Arcadian swain, that hath lost his fair mistress; for
in sooth, I have lost the best and fairest love that ever shepherd
knew, even my gracious Queen; and sith<43> my good mistress is gone,
I shall not hastily put forth for a new master. I hear our new King
hath hanged one man before he was tried; ''tis strangely done: now
if the wind bloweth thus, why may not a man be tried before he hath
offended—I will keep company with none but my oves and boves,<51>
and go to Bath and drink sack, and wash away remembrances of past
times in the streams of Lethe.

————

I hear much (by private means) of strange plots by Cobham, Grey,
Raleigh, and others. I have no concerns of this sort, save that my
man Ralph hath stolen two cheeses from my dairy-house;—I wish he
were choked herewith! and yet the fellow hath five children; I will
not sue him if he repenteth and amendeth.

————

Many letters from the court at Wilton, persuade me to come thereto,
and some special notices from persons in high state.

My poor cousin, Sir Griffin Markham, prayeth my service in his
behalf with the King, concerning his imprisonment.<52>

————

I must write my news to my poor wife. The bishops came to the King
about the petition of the puritans; I was by, and heard much
discourse. The King talked much Latin, and disputed with Dr.
Reynolds, at Hampton, but he rather used upbraidings than argument;
and told the petitioners that they wanted to strip Christ again, and
bid them away with their snivelling: moreover, he wished those who
would take away the surplice, might want linen for their own breech.
The bishops seemed much pleased, and said his Majesty spoke by the
power of inspiration. I wist not what they mean; but the spirit was
rather foul mouthed. I cannot be present at the next meeting, though
the bishop of London said I might be in the antechamber: it seemeth
the King will not change the religious observances.—There was much
discourse about the ring in marriage, and the cross in baptism; but
if I guess aright, the petitioners against one cross will find
another.

————

I this day heard the King deliver his speech to the Commons and
Lords, and noted one part thereof, wherein his Majesty called the
devil a busy bishop, sparing neither labour nor pains. My Lord of
London told me, "he thought his Majesty might have chosen another
name."



JOHN HARINGTON TO THE LORD TREASURER BURLEIGH
Giving a humorous description of himself, and enclosing the Monks'
Hymn to Saint Satan.

My Worthy Lord,

It affordeth me no small joy to hear by Mr. Bellot,<53> whom good
fortune did throw in my way at Bath, that your gouty disorder was
growing to better humour. It is a plague, like the greedy parasite,
the better fed the longer guest: but your lordship doth not invite
the stay of such friends by rich wines, or strong spices; yet, like
many others, it will come to your door, which shutteth against none.

Your message to me for my budget of wit, is ill-timed. I am very
busy, yet very idle; very well, yet very ill; very merry, yet very
sad. Busy with my workmen, yet idle myself; I write nought but long
bills: well in my body, but sick in my purse: merry to think my
house well nigh done, and sad to say ''tis not well nigh paid for.
In an old book of my father's I read a merry verse, which, for lack
of my own, I send by Mr. Bellot, to divert your lordship; when (as
you say) weighty pain and weightier matters will yield to quips and
merriment. This verse is called the Black Sanctus,<54> or monks'
hymn to Saint Satan, made when King Henry had spoiled their singing.
My father was wont to say, that King Henry was used, in pleasant
mood, to sing this verse; and my father (who had his good
countenance, and a goodly office in his court, and also his goodly
Esther to wife) did sometime receive the honour of hearing his own
song; for he made the tune which my man Combe hath sent herewith;
having been much skilled in music, which was pleasing to the King,
and which he learnt in the fellowship of good Master Tallis,<55>
when a young man. Bishop Gardiner would not have liked him the
better, had he known he was guilty of such jibes; which, perhaps, he
had heard of too.

Our work at the Bath doth go on haud passibus aequis:<56>—we
sometime gallop with good presents, and then as soon stand still,
for lack of good spurring; but it seemeth more like a church than it
has aforetime, when a man could not pray without danger of having
good St. Stephen's death, by the stones tumbling about our ears, and
it were vain to pray for such enemies. But now, to pray for our
friends may not be ill taken on earth, or in heaven. So may God give
your lordship all comfort, ease, and health of body, till he shall
(O dies procul esto!<56>) receive your soul. If I ever pray'd better
for myself; I become a greater sinner by so much of a lie; for I
never did, nor ever will. In all duty, I rest

Your humble well-wisher,

JOHN HARINGTON.

Kelston, 1595.



A TREATISE ON PLAY.
By Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Harington. (c. 1597)

It may seem strange, among so many grave and weighty matters, to
present so idle and trifling a discourse as the title hereof seemeth
to promise; and the writer may be thought to have been very gamesome
in his humour, or very barren of other matter for so doing, if both
our chronicles did not show us a precedent of a stout and politic
King (I cannot say just and virtuous) that propounded as a serious
matter, at a council-board, to have a fit and well chosen playfellow
for his nephew; and if every man's own experience did not tell him
that recreation after study, ease after pain, rest after labour, is
very necessary.

Now though I know that holy and wise preachers may say, and say
truely, that as a man may be merry without laughing, quell hunger
and thirst without surfeiting, so he may refresh his spirits without
dice or card-playing; yet I will not be so severe and stoical to
pronounce that such play is unhonest, ungodly, unlawful, and by wise
princes ought to be banished, not only out of their houses, but out
of their dominions, as an infecter of manners, a spoiler of youth, a
waster of wealth, yea, and of that which is not to be redeemed by
wealth, our most precious time: for, if I should hold a paradox, I
should have all our young lords, our fair ladies, our gallant
gentlemen, and the flower of all England against me; yea, to say
truly, I should have mine own fancy and custom, nay even my own
opinion and judgment against me: because I do think it at the worst,
tolerable; for the most part, indifferent; and in some sort,
commendable: and therefore, at the first entrance hereto, I may
shake hands and make truce with my good friend Mr. Groomporter, and
assure him that this discourse of mine tends no way to his
hindrance; but rather to establish an honour and order in that,
which in wise men's opinions is now both dishonourably and
disorderly abused, specially in that house whence the pattern and
light of all honour and order should come.

I. First therefore, I will show you what the true use of play is.

II. Secondly, I will lay down briefly what vices it participateth.

III. Thirdly, I will declate my counsel for a remedy of such
disease, for avoiding all or the most of the inconveniences that
happen by the untemperate and immoderate use of the same.

PLAY, according to the ancient school-men, (who were the narrowest
examiners and subtlest distinguishers of words,) is desined to be,
LUDUS, id est, locutus vel operatio in quo nihil quaeritur nisi
delectatio animalis. [That is,] "A spending of the time either in
speech or action, whose only end is a delight of the mind or
spirit." And therefore they call it also a remedy against the
overburdening and dulling of the spirits. It may be derived into
three kinds.

First, of devotion, of which kind of recreation, although it be
absolutely the best, I shall have cause to speak but litle.

The second, of unseemly pleasures, provoking to wantonness; of
which, because it is the worst, I must needs say somewhat.

The third, of all kind of games devised for pastime, which they
comprehend. under the name of alearis and quasi alearis;<58> in
which either mere hazard prevails, as at dice; or chance with some
use of wit, as in cards and tables;<59> or chance with some sleight,
strength, and agility of the body, as shooting, bowling, tennis, the
most of which being adiaphora, things indifferent, and both to good
and bad uses in all the ages of a man, are consequently the
principal ground and project of this my discourse.

Of the first and most excellent play or recreation (that I may not
speak without authority) we find an example in the holy histories of
David, 2 Kings, vi. cap. who said, Ludam, et fiam vilior.<60> Holy
virtuous pastimes be advised in the New Testament, "Singing psalms,
and hymns, and spiritual songs," as St. James counselleth those that
are merry; walking abroad and meditating, as Isaac did, like a dove;
recording some of the eloquent and excellent soliloquies of St.
Augustine; or, if they be unlearned, singing one of David's divine
psalms well translated into metre; of which myself have heard some
profess to have had more pleasure, and their minds more lifted up to
devotion, then with all the solemn church music of organs and
voices: whether it were the matter, or the metre, or the maker, or
the music, or all together that so ravished them; of which excellent
work, I mean those psalms in metre, seing it is alredy prophesied
those precious leaves (those hymns that she doth consecrate to
Heaven) shall outlast Wilton walls<61>, methinks it is pity they are
unpublished, but lie still enclosed within those walls like
prisoners, though many have made great suit for their liberty. But
of this kind of play I need say no more, not doubting but many
noble-minded courtiers frequent often such virtuous exercises, and,
if they would more often by my persuasion, I would be not a little
glad of it.

Of the second sort of play, provoking only and chiefly to
wantonness, (though some more, some less,) such have generally been
esteemed interludes, tumblers, jesting fools, and scoffers, masking
and dancing, and such like, in some of which there may sure be such
temper, as to make them void of sin; yet commonly there is such
temptation as is not without some shame; therefore, how so ever the
beholders, if they give not as it were the bridle too much to loose
and wanton desires, may be excused, yet the actors for the most part
are esteemed illiberal, base, and ridiculous. One said merely that
"interludes were the devil's sermons, and jesters the devil's
confessors; these for the most part disgracing of virtue, and those
not a little gracing of vices." But, for my part, I commend not such
sour censurers, but I think in stage-plays may be much good, in
well-penned comedies, and specially tragedies; and I remember, in
Cambridge, howsoever the preciser sort have banished them, the wiser
sort did, and still do maintain them.

True it is that St. Augustine doth reprove, and that very justly,
the plays of the ancient Romans, such as those that were called
Bacchanalia; and not only these drunken and wanton plays, but even
their Circenses and Seculares, because these were for the most part
full of blasphemous superstition, and even dedicated (as he most
amply proveth) to the honour of their false gods, indeed, foul
spirits and mere devils; but what prejudice need that to be to our
interludes, which are no way intended to the dishonour of our own
true Lord, nor honour of his enemy. Concerning this matter one wrote
a pretty elegy, of wich I remember these four first verses:

Non ego qui ludos spectant reor esse nocentes,
Non his omne tamen crimen abesse puto;
Grandior his aetas morum sine vulnere magno,
Forsan adesse potest, sed nisi forte potest.

To see a play I call no heinous crime,
Yet say not I, all fault is absent thence;
Men, staid in years, may see the same sometime
Perhaps, (and but perhaps) without offence.

But now whence comes this offence, but from the ill penning of the
plays by the writers, or by the wanton humour of this time, whom no
mirth can please if it be not sauced with some bawdery?<62> and the
poet's care, as saith Terence, is, Populo ut placerent quas
fecissent fabulas.<63>

Nero, one of the worst emperors, was too much delighted in music,
and all kind of poetry. Will any man conclude thereby, that music
and poetry is abominable, because that abominable tyrant loved them?
Nerva, one of the best of the good emperors, was much pleased with a
buffoon or jesting fool that he had, yet it followed not that all
that can play the fool are worthy to be favored by emperors; for
even that jester was prettily jested at one day by the emperor. For,
when the fool, having made him merry, begged somewhat of him and
could not obtain it, he asked the Emperor "why he would not give him
greater rewards, seeing he took such pleasure in his
counterfeiting?" "Oh," said he, "if I paid for it, the pleasure were
lessened:" meaning, belike, that half the sport was to see him play
the fool for nothing; and sure it seems they are not well sorted in
their state and quality, if they be not, as Horace calls me,

Scurra vagus, non qui certum praesepe teneret;
Qaelibet in quemvis opprobria fingere saevus.
Like wandering rogues that have no certain manger,
Pressed to rail and scoff at every stranger.

But that such kind of fellows as these be still hawking and hanging
about princes' courts and noblemen's houses, is a custom so ancient,
that it is lawful by prescription.

As for the rest of the sports of this second kind, being not the
chief intent of my present treatise, I pass them over with this
general caveat, either for practising or beholding of them, ne quid
nimis.<65> For, as to be pleasant conceited,<66> to be active and
musical, are courtly and liberal qualities; so, for noble personages
to become jesters, tumblers, and pipers, is hateful, fond,<67> and
dishonourable.

III. The third sort of plays, which I called aleares et quasi
aleares,<58> comprehending in a manner all kind of games played at
for wagers; being one of the most dangerous rocks, at which the
youth of this island suffer voluntary shipwreck, both of fame and
fortune, is the special kind of which I would now speak. For I have
sometime, considering hereof, wondered at that strange disease of
some men in this kind, who playing at cards or dice with, as ill
fortune (commonly) be, and with such impatience, that in reason it
must exclude all pleasure; that have not had the power to refrain
from it, but have still pursued it either to the utter decay of
their estates, or else driven with a kind of unnecessary necessity
to descend to so base shifts, as when their wiser judgment hath
after (by assistance of God's good grace), expelled that foolish
fancy, they themselves have damned and detested, as most ignominious
and reproachful. And therefore, seing so plainly this infection
begin to grow so general, and myself having so hardly<68> (and
perhaps, scantfully<69>) escaped it; though it were an honest and
acceptable endeavour to find some remedy if I could, for the same.

First, therefore, I did search as physicians do, the true nature of
the disease, and out of what humours it is specially fed; and I find
(partly by unpartial examining mine own imperfections and follies,
and partly by observing other men's customs) this excessive play to
grow from one of these evil affections of the mind which the
ancients (not unproperly) were wont to term "deadly sins," viz.
pride, covetousness, and sloth: of which, sloth causeth the
frequentation of it; pride, the greatness; and avarice, the
greediness. And accordingly I direct my advice hereto as good
physicians do medicines, not quite to take away the humours, but
only to restrain the dangerous overflowing thereof. Not but that I
am fully persuaded, that if I should make such an anatomy, as might
easily be done; of the foulness of these offences that arise out of
great play; yea; if one of these gamesters might, with the eye of
virtuous judgment, see but one saucer full of the corrupt blood that
this pestilent disease hath bred in them, they would suffer
themselves not only to be purged, but to be lanced, rather than any
drop of such blood, or of so dangerous a humour, should be remaining
in them; and, as for those that were yet never infected, they would
follow the Italians' medicine for the plague:—

Presto procul, tarde cede, recede redi.
Go away with the first, remove away farthest, return with the
last.

But this season serves not for such kind of physic, I will neither
purge, lance, nor let blood; my patients shall fare delicately, so
they will feed moderately; finally, they shall never need either
swear or sweat (though their disease make them often do both) if
they will follow but the prescript that I will give them; and for
their more assurance, I have taken it myself, and some of my good
friends, and therefore I can say as my Ariosto saith:—

Believe what here is shown for thy behoof,
Probatum est, I know, 'tis true by proof.

But, that I may yet a while continue this my physical metaphor, mark
what I shall tell (I speak to all great players) of the origin of
your maladies; and, if you find that I discover aright your diseases
without feeling your pulses, think I can as well prescribe a
medicine without casting your waters.

i. First, therefore, I say, the chief nurse of play is Idleness or
Sloth. Not but that play is a kind of remedy also against sloth, but
yet, when we are grown by too much eating and surfieting, to a
general indisposition to all business, then commonly we embrace play
to avoid sleep. I will leave to the divines to tell you how
dangerous a thing this fullness of flesh is counted, and what became
of them that did "eat and drink, and rose up again to play." Let us
but morally and civilly (as I may say) lay before us an example of
some one, of which there is too great choice, that spends his whole
life in play. As thus, for example; in the morning, perhaps, at
chess, and after his belly is full, then at cards; and, when his
spirits wax dull at that, then for some exercise of his arms at
dice; and, being weary thereof, for a little motion of his body, to
tennis; and having warmdd him at that, then, to cool himself a
little, play at tables;<59> and, being disquieted in his patience
for overseeing cinque and quater,<71> or missing two or three foul
blots, then to an interlude; and so (as one well compared it) like
to a mill-horse, treading always in the same steps, be ever as far
from a worthy and a wise man as the circle is from the centre. Would
not one swear this were a marvellous idle fellow?

Sure idleness is a thing not only condemned of all men, and by some
law-makers severely punished, but even hateful to nature itself, and
therefore commonly it is the first suggester of all the foul and
enormous sins that are committed.

Quaeritur Aegisthus quare sit factus adulter?
Impromptu ratio est, desidiosus erat.<72>
What made Aegisthus first a lecher grow?
Sloth was the cause, as all the world doth know.

It is the broom that sweepeth clean all good thoughts out of the
house of the mind, making it fit to receive the vii devils, that the
man's end may be worse than the beginning.<73> For, as contemplation
raiseth the soul to the true love of God and inflameth it with a
desire of virtuous actions, so doth idleness depress the spirits,
engenders a desire of unworthy things, and cooleth or rather
quencheth all the sparks of virtue and honour. Wherefore, not to
stand too long upon this point, which would (you may see) afford
infinite matter; whosoever will not be noted with the foul infamy of
idleness, let him not be a continual gamester; for, if he play very
much, Demosthenes were not able to clear him if he were sued upon an
action of idleness. I say very much: not but that I count a little
play, as I said in the beginning, both tolerable and also
commendable for worthy persons of either sex (specially attending in
court) to recreate themselves at play; and methinks I have observed
good use thereof. For it is (be it spoken under correction) an
unfitting sight to see a presence-chamber empty more than half the
day, and men eannot be always discoursing, nor women always pricking
in clouts;<74> and therefore, as I say, it is not amiss to play at
some sociable game (at which more than ii may play) whereby the
attendance may seem the less tedious to the players, and the rest
that look on may in a sort entertain themselves with beholding it,
as daily experience showeth us. Wherefore, I have been ever against
the opinion of some elder servitors (that seem now to be better
antiquaries than courtiers) who will maintain that till ii of the
clock no gentleman should stand above the cupboard; that to lean in
the presence-chamber is unseemly; to sit is unsufferable; that play
came not in by licence, but crept in by licentiousness.

These good gentlemen think that one of us may boast of the well
spending of that day wherein they have told us how merry a world it
was when the King<75> went to Boulogne; whereas, thanks be to GOD
and that noble King's most noble daughter, we think it as merry
still; and to such reprovers I answer, new lords, new laws: her
Majesty's commandment is sufficient law in her court, and if it
please her Highness, she may have it so still, but sublata causa
tollitur effectus; "effects remove with their causes." Good manners
will teach every man when it is unseemly to lean or sit, and yet the
noble nature of Princes is seen in these indulgences of ease (as I
may so call them) to their servants and subjects. It hath been a
favour (though now not common) to give a pardon of the cap, viz, to
stand covered. It is a great honour of the Queen's court, that no
prince's servants fare so well and so orderly, nor have more
wholesome provision in all Europe: to be short, the stately palaces,
goodly and many chambers, fair galleries, large gardens, sweet
walks, that princes with magnificent cost do make, (the xxth part of
which they use not themselves,) all show that they desire, and would
have all men think they desire, the ease, content, and pleasure of
their followers, as well as themselves. Which matter, though it be
more proper to another discourse, yet I could not but touch it in
this, against their error rather than austerity, that say play
becomes not the presence, and that it would not as well become the
state of the chamber to have easy quilted and lined forms and stools
for the lords and ladies to sit on, (which fashion is now taken up
in every merchant's hall,) as great plank forms that two yeomen can
scant remove out of their places, and wainscot stools so hard, that,
since great breeches were laid aside, men can scant endure to sit
on. But, to end this first part of this tripartite discourse, you
see how willing I am both to allow play, and all ease in your play,
so the chief end of play, be that which should indeed be the true
use of play;—to recreate the spirits for a short time, to enable
them better to serious and weighty matters.

ii. The second cause of excess in play I noted to be pride; an ill
cause of a worse effect, which because it loves to be glorious will
seldom be seen alone, but attended on with wrath, riot, and
blasphemy; and, (save that custom hath made it so familiar to us
that we neither observe it in ourselves nor in others,) we should
perceive that this proud humour that is fed by play, makes us oft
swear more in one hour, than otherwise a man could have occasion to
do in a whole year. Now, that you may plainly see it is pride
chiefly that moves men to great play, (specially in court and in
public assemblies wheresoever,) mark, I say, the greatest and the
most professed great players, if they will not in private men's 
houses, or in their own, (if they have any,) play as small game as
need be, whereas to play the same, nay, five times the same stake in
other places, they would count themselves disparaged for ever.

It is ever noted that the foulest vice that is, seeks to put on a
mask and show of some virtue; so this pride in gaming would fain be
taken for a kind of magnanimity and bountiful disposition; and
therefore, as I said, the more public the place is, the more
honourable the presence, the deeper the play groweth; and then, as
though two shilling and six pence had not as many syllables in it as
one hundred pounds, you shall hear them still talking of hundreds
and thousands. And wherefore is all this, forsooth?—because the
beholders may extol their brave minds, and say one to another, "Did
you ever see gentlemen that cared so little for their money, so
brave, so bountiful, etc." and perhaps even herein they are
deceived, and that insteaed hereof, some of the standers by tell how
they heard, but 3 days past, a mercer importuning some one of them
for 10l. matter, and could get no other answer but—"God damn me, if
I pay you not the next money I receive:" and another had a poor
widow following of him, suing to buy a copyhold in which she had a
widow's estate, and offered in a year to pay fifty pound; and he
protested "he had such present need of money he could not stay so
long," and sold it to another for 30l. in hand: and a third,
perhaps, was hard chaffing with the bailiff of his husbandry for
giving viiid. a day this dear year<76> to day labourers, saying, "he
might. have had them for viid." Lo the bounty of these
magnifical<77> players! to omit how basely some of these big men
will borrow, how beggarly they will shift, when they will seem most
bountifully to spend. Such scornful grand miserable straits they are
driven unto, that scorn to use a measurable proportion in their
play, according to their state and callings.

Neither would I conclude hereof, that great princes or nobles should
play for so little as were not worth the reckoning of, for know the
saying; sine quaestu friget lusus; "small stake makes cold play."
And therefore, though it be hard to prescribe a mean and rule of a
thing so subject to extremities in so divers callings and abilities
of the players, yet I would deliver this as my opinion, and advise
herein in general:—that the wager in play should be as it were
sauce, and not the substance of it; so as a man should take at least
equal contentment for winning the game as the money; and be less
greieved for losing the money than the game; that a man should
venture no more to play than he could be easily persuaded to give
out of his superfluity to some well deserving person that were in
want; that if the quality of the persons be so different (as oft it
happens), that 10 shillings loss to one were more than 10l. loss to
another; then the greater persons should rather stoop somewhat below
their custom, than the meaner man should step somewhat above his
calling: For sure I am, if one of the extremes must be fallen into,
the little play has the less danger of fame, of fortune, of fault,
than the greater. Besides, if the greater persons in matter of game
should not sort themselves to the meaner, how should princes in
their dominions find playfellows? For, if her Majesty, would play at
primero<78> in that proportion of her estate as have seen some of
her mean subjects in their poor callings, she should play a dukedom
at a rest, and a barony stake, and then know none able to hold play
with her: but if her Highness can vouchsafe to play sometime with
her servants according to their meaner abillities, I know not why we
her servants, should scorn to play with our equals or inferiors for
competent wagers, as the loss may not be burdensome to them. And
yet, not to neglect the honourable show of the place, I would wish,
that greater persons should, according to their callings, play on a
velvet carpet, handle nothing but gold; talk of nothing but pounds,
and yet to venture no more than they may with their honours truly
pay, and with their ease willingly spare.

As for the standers by, (who need not know whether every rial<81>
passes current for 10s. or for 10d.) their eyes are as well
entertained and their thoughts as well pleased, as if so much gold
were truly won and lost, of which myself have seen double
experience. For example; where lords and great men have been
disposed to play deep play, and not having money about them, have
cut cards insteed of counters, with assurance (on their honours,) to
pay for every piece of card so lost, a portague<79>; (a thing as
some say common in Spain, and sometime done in this court,) I have
observed that the beholders have taken small pleasure in beholding
this play, though hundreds were really and indeed lost thereat. And
even now this other day, when crastino animarum<80> was solemnly
appointed for the payment of many matches won and lost at bowls, the
country people, that saw no money walking, held themselves deluded,
and thought they played but xiiid. up xiid. though I doubt some of
their friends feel a greater rate for it ere long. And of the other
side I have observed, when some of the better sort have by my
persuasion (for putting in practice this counterfeit gaming) played
good store of gold and silver, rating it for the present at the 10th
or 12th penny, so as above a noble or a rial<81> was not in common
account to be lost at a sitting; yet the vulgar beholders did hold
it for the noblest and royalest play they had seen; only marvelling
to see such sober gentlemen play so much in an hour as they were not
used to spend in a week. Now, if the irreverent doctor Faustus, or
some such grave patron of great play; should protest this to be an
intolerable cozenage and dishonourable abuse of the beholders, and
with some Chester-like eloquence, deride the weakness of the
conceit:—I answer him, that I no way compare with his rare and well
studied inventions of stops, of cuts, of points, of marks, of slips,
of lays, of sets, of odds in betting, of slurs, of high-men and low-
men, of familiars, and suchlike; which I am half ashamed to name,
because it shows I am not so ignorant of them as I ought to be: all
which cunning, if great play were suppressed in our common
ordinaries, would be as merely left and forgotten (though it be now
studied and practised as an excellent mystery and science) as
Demetrius' occupation of making silver shrines for Diana was
hindered by the apostle's preaching of Christ.<82> But I say in
defence of this honest or at least harmless dissimulation, in making
the play seem greater than it is, that there is almost no part of
our life in which we do not generally affect and effect more
dangerous practices of dissimulation in matters of earnest and
weight than this that I bring in, in matter only of sport and game.
We go brave<83> in apparel that we may be taken for better men than
we be; we use much bombastings and quiltings to seem better formed,
better shouldered, smaller waisted, and fuller thighed, than we are;
we barb and shave oft, to seem younger than we are; we use perfumes
both inward and outward, to seem sweeter than we be; cork shoes to
seem taller than we be; we use courteous salutations to seem kinder
than we be; lowly obeisances to seem humbler than we be; and
sometime grave and godly communication, to seem wiser or devouter
than we be. And infinite such things we may observe in ourselves,
which are some of them commendable in this respect, that, by good
and true endevour to seem to be, we may obtain at last the habit and
grace to become to be such indeed, according to the excellent
counsel, Labour to be as you would be thought. Wherefore, if we
allow in so many things seeming without being, why should we not be
content, in this one thing, to be less bountiful, or, (to term it
rightly) less prodigal, less wasteful, less mad, than we seem to be.

But, because examples are more effectual often than persuasions, and
to praise the dead is no flattery, I will allege<26> one example,
well known to many of us, and therefore not unfit for this purpose.
Who was more magnificent in matters of true honour, more sumptuous
in building, rich in furnishing, royal in entertaining, orderly in
maintaining his house than Sir Christopher Hatton, late Lord
Chancellor? a man taught virtue, framed to wisdom, raised to honour,
by her Majesty's special grace and choice; yet when some ambassadors
lay at his house, (knowing the general humour of the meaner sort to
love to see great play) while he himself entertained the chiefest of
them with some grave discourse or some solemn music, he caused some
of his friends to play at cards with 1000l. in fair gold of his
money, rating it at their own pleasures at xii d. the pound, or as
themselves agreed on, that the sums played might seem great, the
show bountiful, and the substance not unsupportable. Thus you see
that, if men will needs have a pride in a thing whereof they may
rather be ashamed, yet in this manner of play I recommend to you,
both the idle man may have his pastime, and the proud man his pomp.

Now remains only how we may allay the covetous humour of play, for
satisfy it we never can; being the very dropsy of the mind, whose
thirst increaseth with drinking; a wolf whose famine abates not with
raving; a sea that augmenteth not his waters with filling. Is there
any hope to assuage the fury of this disease in a gamester? Horace
saith, there is in any man:

Fervet avaritia, miseroque cupidine pectus?
Sunt verba et voces, quibus hunc lenire dolorem
Passis, et magnam morbi deponere causam.
Boileth thy breast with lucre's base desire?
Precepts are found to quench this filthy fire,
And force this malady from thee retire.<84>

It hath been said, 'one strong poison will expel another;' which
made me to persuade myself that the pride men have in play might
have been a sufficient restraint of this base humour of cozenage,
specially in a courtier; for I remember that he that writes the most
exact rules for a worthy courtier to follow, concerning these kind
of games, giveth these special rules; l. That a gentleman labour not
to be too cunning at any of them, though the game savour of wit, as
chess and the like. 2. That his play never breed any unseemly or
untemperate passions, but above all that it be void of deceit and
advantage. O! then, that gentlemen would be so proved to disdain
these baseminded shifts and cozenages, and to scorn that gain that
is got with a pack of cards and dice.

The ancient Romans, as appears by their own histories,were exceeding
ambitious, but yet, (as St. Augustine excellent well noteth) that
ambition bridled in them many greater and more enormous vices; for
the pride of their conceit was such as made them despise pleasures,
riches, ease, or whatsoever they thought might diminish their
reputation with the people, or make them the less or the worse
spoken of. But, how far otherwise it is with the pride of great
play, I partly noted before. It beginns with wantonness and riot,
continues in cursing and blasphemy, and ends commonly in quarrel and
cozenage, which how unworthy it is of a noble and virtuous spirit,
any, that have read Tully's Offices, may imagine. For there it is
said, Fraus vulpeculae, vis leonis, utrumque alienissimum ab homine,
sed fraus odio digna majore; "Fraud is fox-like, force is lion-like,
both for a man most unseemely, but fraud of the two more hateful." I
will not here spend much time to answer some poor apologies that
some weak wits have devised, beguiling themselves while they would
fain prove it lawful to beguile others. But this I am most assured
and can prove it by most evident reasons, that to use cozenage at
play is a thing unnatural, unlawful, and, for the most part, to the
party that useth it, unprofitable. For whether play were first
devised as a sociable passing the time to recreate the spirits, or
else (as some will have it) to beguile hunger in a time of great
famine; for I will not discredit that same hungry history, having
myself seen some, for eagerness to play, forbear eating, drinking,
and sleeping, and other necessities of nature, a very long time.
What can, I say, be more against the nature, institution, and use
thereof, than to turn kindness to unkindness, mirth to melancholy,
pleasure to pains; finally, the recreation of over-studied spirits
to a most busy study of cozenage.

For, to omit their brabblings and blasphemies, (which would to God
they could be omitted!) is it a small time, think you, that one of
these cunning gamesters spends in practising to slur a die surely,
to stop a card cleanly, to lay a pack cunningly? I have heard some
(and those no novices in these mysteries) affirm, that the deviser
of the set at the new cut, (that did cut so many ere the edge was
fully discovered,) could not spend so little as a month's earnest
study, beating his brains ere he could contrive it,—if it could be
done. without help of the devil, for, indeed, whom the devil should
the devil assist, but such as labour and study night and day in his
service? Wherefore let them not call it their play, but their
labour, their trade, their occupation, that play only for gain; for
greediness breeds earnestness, and earnestness overthrows quite the
very nature of all game:

Lusuri nuces animos quoque ponere debent,
Lusori cupido semper gravis exitus instat;
Pone malas quoties ludendo vinceris inas,
Nemo potest semper faelici ludere dextra.
Lay down your stake at play, lay down your passions;
A greedy gamester still hath some mishap;
To chafe for loss proceeds of foolish fashions,
No man throws still the dice in Fortune's lap.

These old verses (patched by me together out of I know not what old
writers,) are sufficient testimony to prove, what temper the wiser
have taught in times past, and what folly the foolish have committed
at all times, concerning gaming; by which it appears most plainly,
that not only to use deceit in play, but, (which is far less) to
make gain the end of your play, quite perverteth the right use,
quality, and nature thereof.

Now that it is unlawful is soon proved, by the common law, by the
civil law, by God's law. By the common and civil law the phrase in
both is to call cards and dice unlawful games, yea though played at
without cozenage; and by the civil law money won of a ward or of a
servant might have been recovered. . . years after as appears in the
digest; though I am not ignorant that some civilians<86> oppose
against such a recovery this maxim, In pari causa turpitudinis
melior est conditio possidentis; "where both parties have like
turpitude or dishonesty, the law favors the party in possession."
But admit it be so for fair play, (though in my poor opinion that
word turpitude hath relation not to the play used in dicing-houses,
but in bawdy-houses,) yet for cozenage I hold it undoubtedly that
money so won, if it may be proved, (for in law quod non probatur non
est, "nothing is without proof,") may be recovered of the keeper of
the dicing-house, by the civil law, and by action of cozenage or
conspiracy, at the common law. Neither doth the former maxim make
aught against it, because the dishonesty is not equal, but all in
the deceiver. But now, for God's law, I must confess I find no
commandment that says, "Thou shalt not play:"—neither in precise
words, neither yet by implication; and therefore I said at the
first, it is in itself a thing indifferent, other than as it is
restrained either by canons of the church, (of which many are still
in force in this realm) or by other positive laws, such as eating
fish in Lent, wearing such or such apparel, which our divines hold
to bind a Christian in conscience, being not directly against the
word of God. But, (I say) be it that play by scripture is a thing
indifferent, (for sure I am my ghostly father<87> never barred it
me, neither by precept nor example,) what excuse is this for
cozenage at play, that breaks at least half the commandments of the
old and new law? The new law saith, "Love God above all, love thy
neighbour as thyself." How well this gentleman loves his neighbour
that lays baits and hooks to catch his money from him, every man may
see. But I hope for all this he may love God better; I will believe
it if he can answer this question of St. John, "How can one love God
whom he hath not seen, that loves not his brother whom he hath
seen?" But some will say, this is a law of a secret and rare
perfection. The ten commandments are plain and open; doth the
cunning gamester keep them? "Thou shall not covet;" is the last and
least of them: let him be pardoned for breaking that. But if he be
(as St. Paul calls it) an idolater with his covetousnes, if he swear
and forswear, break sabbaths, dishonour parents and magistrates,
murder with malice, steal from all he plays with, (for it is worse
than theft,) witness falsehood with others, (all which all the world
sees that the cozening gamesters daily do,) then it is too plain
that they break nine of the commandments; and (if he be not an
eunuch) I dare be sworn that he that breaks nine of them doth keep
none of them.

Now let them devise what defences they can for this their cozenage,
let them excuse it as a peccadillo, and say it is no robbery,
because the party brings it to venture it, (for so tailors deny
their stealing, by saying the stuff is brought them,) yet I think,
if these seek their stolen stuff in hell, those will find theirs in
hell also. For where law allows a recovery, and conscience binds to
restitution, how can the gain be any way lawful?

Men are not passing good nor passing ill of a sudden, or all at
once; but, as the good grow from faith to faith, so the lewd fall
from filth to filth. At the first a man makes some scruple, and when
he hath given himself leave to play false for a little, at last he
taketh not only leave but pleasure; yea, sometime a pride to do it
for more than a great deal. Wherefore, as Ovid saith,

Obsta principiis; sero medicina paratur,
Cum mala per longas invaluere floras.
Stop the first breaches; medicine will not boot
When, by delay, diseases take deep root.<89>

But yet to remember my purpose and promise in the beginning, which
was that I would not quite purge any humour, but only allay it a
little; so I will still yield to leave so much of this covetous
humour in play as may serve for a sauce, (as I said) yea, and a
hungry sauce, such as may move sufficient appetite, but withal I
wish you to beware of a surfeit. Neither need I herein to give any
other rules, but to refer you to those former advices that I gave,
in weighing the divers callings and qualities of men.

There is a great show of popularity in playing small game, as we
have heard of one that shall be nameless, (because he was not
blameless) that with shooting seven up groats among yeomen, and
going in plain apparel, had stolen so many hearts, (for I dare not
say he came truly by them,) that he was accused of more than felony.
But my noble godfather, William Earl of Pembroke, shall not be
nameles, who (as I have heard a special servant near about him tell)
lost two thousand pound in one night (imitating Augustus Caesars'
play, though I will be sworn for him he never read his life) still
giving away all he won, and paying all he lost; and it is possible
(for so said his servant to me) that, by this his ill luck at play,
be saved as much as the man before meant, though not mentioned, did
lose.

Thus I have named, or at least signified, an example of small game
without baseness, of great play without folly, now I will add only
two, not unpleasant tales; one of a witty deceit, not dishonest;
another of a willing loss, not undiscreet. Pope Julio (if I fail not
in the name, and sure I am that there is a game of the cards after
his name<90>) was a great and wary player, a great virtue in a man
of his profession; but being a good companion, and as the phrase is,
as merry as Pope Joan; it is said he played at primero with some
great princes or cardinals that use to be popes' playfellows, and,
after the play was grown warm and the rests great, it happened that
two of them were encountered five and fiftye; much money being set
up, and much more to set, the pope being the younger 55, though it
were the greatest game of the cards, yet smelling the rat, for they
be all nasuti<91>, and mistrusting, as it was indeed, that there was
an elder game on the board, gave it over, swearing, if he had been
but one more, he would have seen it; the other supposing, as the
speech intended, that he had been at the most but four and fifty,
allowed him the one more, and by judgment of the groom-porters
there, lost it. Here was a kind of fraud, but not so full of fault
as of wit, and the persons being such with whom 5000 crowns is but a
reward to a courtesan for a night's lodging, it cannot in them seem
covetousness or cozenage. Well you may call it a stratagem of wit at
the cards, as they term stratagems of war in a camp; for though a
heathen prince could say,

Ferro, non auro, vitam cernamus utrique,
Vos ne velit vel me regnare hora quidve ferat fors.
Try we, with glittering blade, not glistening gold,
Which of us two the highest seat shall hold.<92>

Yet now his Holiness and his chief Catholic sons can say,

Dolus, an virtus, quis in hoste requirat?
Be it virtue, be it fraud,
Against a foe it merits laud.<93>

Christians! if you will not learn fair wars, and fair play, and
honesty from Heaven, learn it from the heathen; and, if humility
cannot teach you to shun some glorious sins, let pride move you to
shame of so base sins.

The other tale I would tell of a willing and wise loss I have heard
diversely told. Some tell it of King Philip, and a favorite of his;
some of our worthy King Henry VIII and Domingo;<94> and I may call
it a tale, because perhaps it is but a tale, but thus they tell it:—
The king, 55 eldest hand, set up all rests, and discarded flush;
Domingo or Dundego, (call him how you will,) held it upon 49, or
some such game; when all rests were up and they had discarded, the
King threw his 55 on the board open, with great laughter, supposing
the game (as it was) in a manner sure. Domingo was at his last card
encountered flush, as the standers-by saw, and told the day after;
but seeing the King so merry, would not for a rest at primero, put
him out of that pleasant conceit, and put up his cards quietly,
yielding it lost. What shall we say, for it is disputable? Was it
well or ill done? We must say as is oft said, "it was as it was
taken;" and they say it was well taken. But I say, if the favorite
did it with a clear mind, as I may say candid, to increase and
preserve his master's pleasure, it was a worthy and a kind part; but
if the fox had read the fable of the beasts hunting with the lion,
how the prey there is wont to be divided, then it was a wrong to the
King, and a crafty fox-like part; and for my part, if my man should
do so to me, I would think he mistrusted my patience: and I
remember, four years since, a very near kinsman of mine, because I
lost a game at chess somewhat too patiently unto him, whereby he
mistrusted, as it was indeed, that I lost it voluntary, vowed he
would never play with me at chess again; though he love the game,
and, we meet often; neither can I hire him, with the best horse I
have, to dispense with this foolish vow.

But to draw to an end, for I find in this idle discourse I am apt to
fall into many idle digressions, I will now only show that the
masters of this so seldom thrive by it, as if it were that alone it
were enough to make them give it over; and then, for my conclusion,
I will set down briefly the good uses may be made of this
counterfeit great play.

We judge ordinarily those trades the best at which either some
thrive exceedingly, or many thrive reasonably; and those the worst,
at which many break bankrupts, and some wax wealthy. By this rule, a
cozening gamester of all others should have a bad occupation; for,
to omit his loss of Heaven, which perhaps he never thinks of; sure I
am, following that course he can never hope of. For if a
customer<95> could not be a disciple till he first left his receipt
of custom, much less can a cozener be a true Christian till he leave
his deceit in cozenage. But I say, (omitting that great loss that
will make them eternal bankrupts,) let them show me but an example
among a million that ever rose by play. I have heard of many rich
merchants and goldsmiths in Cheap,<96> some came out of worshipful
houses to come after them; who hath not heard of the hosier whom
Dean Nowell, that good old father, was administrator unto; of a rich
shoe-maker in Westminster; of hundreds I need not name, that by
these honest painful<97> trades, (how fondly<98> soever some scorn
them,) came to great wealth and substance? But what speak I of
honest trades; courtesans have become rich, and after have been
converts and remained honest. Pirates by sea, robbers by land, have
become honest substantial men as we call them, and purchasers of
more lawful purchase. But a cozener in a dicing-house that shall
thrive by his occupation, and live well with that he hath got so
ill, is as rare as a black swan, and no example to be showed of it
in memory or history. Wherefore a dicing-house may not unfitly be
likened to a barren unwholesome island standing in a tempestuous
sea, (like to some of those of the West Indies) where no sustenance
could be had, nor no man would live, save for the shipwreck
happening thereabout, which helps them (though uncertainly, and not
over-abundantly,) to so much as maintains life and soul. In such
sort, with the ruin of infinite young gentlemen, the dicing-box
maintains a hungry family.

Now for the cunning gamesters, who cannot often meet with a good
market, but sometimes, when some good gull comes out of the country,
and knows not how to grace himself in company but with play and good
clothes; then do those gallants draw a good hand or two, but for the
most part they spend more than they get, for though to a good use
you shall seldom see them give, yet are they (for all that)
exceeding prodigal in expense, specially on their back, and their
belly, and beneath the belly, I mean in their fine silk stockings
and Spanish leather shoes, French garters, and much French besides;
the procuring whereof sometime, and sometime the curing, and after,
the recuring, is exceeding chargeable; all which charges are not
easily borne. Beside there is now so many of that association, as
much hinders the gain of the fathers of that faculty: but if they
get nothing, as most at home here be either so wise with their dear-
bought wit, as they will play no more, or so poor with their now-
felt folly, as they can play no more, so as now their chief hope is
for our young captains to come rich from the Indies; but, if they
get, I say, no good booties, yet they must stick to it, and live by
it, as the old wall stands by the help of that ivy that was the
first cause of rotting and undercreeping the foundation thereof. So
that I may boldly conclude, that though there will ever be some
fools to be cozened, yet as long as there is such store of knaves
that would cozen them, they will grow every day poor by this
beggarly occupation; and God send me quickly fatherless son, if I
had not rather one of my sons were a tankard-bearer,<99> that wears
sometimes his silk sleeves at the church on Sunday, than a cozener
that wears his satin hose at an ordinary on Friday.

But now I come to the last part of this discourse, and will show
some good uses of this kind of counterfeit play, which, by reasons,
by exhortations, by similitudes, and by example, I do so earnestly
labour to persuade.

1. First, therefore, I say, for those that have been used to great
play, and therefore can take the less pleasure in small game; of the
sudden, they shall with this fashion play, less offend their fancy,
and less alter their custom, than suddenly to fall from pounds to
shillings; as we see a child weaned from his teat by litle and
litle, sometime with a sucking bottle, sometime with making bitter
the nurse's nipples, then with other spoon-meat, till at last he
makes no reckoning of childish milk, but falls to feed on more manly
meat. Why should not a man be as well content to wean himself from
unprofitable and unmanly customs? I have heard of one hath been so
sick of melancholy, that he hath thought his head, or I think it was
his nose, did fill all the chamber,<100> (for many men's heads fill
greater rooms than they are aware of). Now this man could not be
cured by any reason to prove it was not like to be so, nor by
demonstration to prove it was impossible to be so, nor by sense to
feel it was not so; but a far different means was used to cure him,
by persuading him it was so, and feeding awhile that strange humour
of his so long till the same humour and the same weakness that first
moved that imaginary malady, made him capable of that imaginary
cure: for the physician, coming into the patient's chamber, at his
very entry found fault that he could not come to the bed's side for
the greatness of the nose that filled all the chamber; "yea, marry,"
said his patient, "it is too true; how should it be remedied?" Why,"
said he, "it must be cut till it be less, and then be seared; and,
presently calling for a hatchet, he laid about him upon the stools
and forms, and, having conveyed great gobbets of flesh into the
chamber, bare him in hand they were cut from that superfluous nose;
at last, when he came with his hot iron to sear it, lest it should
bleed too much, the melancholy man no sooner felt a little singeing
of the hot iron, but he found his nose restored to very good
proportion; so ended his melancholy. But alas! they are sick of a
worse melancholy, that think either great play pleasant, or false
play lawful; and, though they be not easily cured, yet my medicine
is as fit and like to cure them as that I last recited.

2. A second good use of this counterfeit play is, that if men were
bound indeed strictly to use it, (as for example, by her Majesty's
commandment in her house, or such-like,) it would quickly take away,
by one reason, both the greatness and greediness in play, which I
noted as two of the chiefest ills that play is subject unto; and by
such a means did Lycurgus banish usury and all kind of covetousness
out of his country. For he finding the cause why men hoarded up gold
and silver was only because a little purse full of that would buy so
many kind of necessaries both for use and pleasure; I say, he
presently made such an embasement of money in so extreme a degree,
as all the current money was only of iron, and that tempered in
vinegar, to make it good for no other use; whereby it soon came to
pass that no foreign nation brought them any newfangled toys, to
carry away their money, nor no man coveted to have great store of
it, when it could not be kept secret, and if one would buy much, he
must have brought four or five sumpters<101> laden with that coin to
buy what four or five sovereigns<102> here would pay for. Now, if I
do not much mistake it, this practice of play I persuade, hath much
affinity with that law of Lycurgus; for if, during the time of play
only, angels were embased to shillings, or shillings to pence, it
would be such a cumber to play deep play, that none would endure it.
If a man would have xl. in his rest, he must have 100l. sterling; if
he won five pound at a cast at dice, he must tell over fifty, which
were a pain rather than a pleasure.

3. Thirdly, a kind of commodity, though I count it but a small one,
were this, that by using this play a man should play far more
frankly and less impatiently, when he should play for so much money
indeed: as the Italian that emboldened himself so, by using to stab
a duke's picture, that in the end he stabbed the duke himself. And
methinks it so far unfitting for a gentleman to chafe at his ill 
luck, as many will do, (whereas it is indeed the loss of the money,
and not the game that makes them so choleric,) that sometimes I
blush in their behalf, that (specially in the presence) will beat
their fists on the board, fling the cards under table, which in
smaller game you shall never see them offer, and therefore to such
specially I commend this play, as most fit for them; wherein perhaps
many will find their humour so well fitted, that they will be
content never to prove the greater play, but please themselves with
this, which is gentlemanly for show, little for loss, and pleasant
for company and recreation.



JOHN HARINGTON, ESQ. TO SIR HUGH PORTMAN, KNIGHT,
Describing an interview with his cousin, Sir John Harington of
Exton, and the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, who laboured under a mortal
malady, which gave serious concern to the Queen.

May or June, 1598.

My good Friend,<103>

I have been to visit at the house which my Lord Treasurer<104> doth
occupy at the Bath, and found him and another cripple together, my
cousin Sir John Harington, of. Exton; when it grieved me to see so
much discretion, wisdom; and learning in peril of death. My lord
doth seem dead on one side, and my cousin on the other, though both
in their health were ever on one side. It gave me some comfort to
hear their religious discourse, and how each did despise his own
malady and hold death in derision, because both did not despair of
life eternal.

The Treasurer asked me if I had any ailment, and smiled to see me
look gravely at their serious talk. I wished them all benefit, and
that the waters might wash away all their deadness, save that to
iniquity, which would still hold them both unto death. My cousin
said, "you are not dead to good works, for even now this church doth
witness of your labour to restore it to its ancient beauty." In good
sooth, we want good men who build unto the Lord to forward this
work; and many indeed have passed assurance of such help. Her
Highness doth much lament her good servant's malady; my Lady Arundel
came with earnest suit from court; touching the treasurer's state,
and did bring an excellent cordial for his stomach, which the Queen
did give her in charge; and said, "that she did entreat Heaven daily
for his longer life:—else would her people, nay herself, stand in
need of cordials too." If I may venture thus much, it seemeth as
though this good man had little else to do on earth than die.

I have not got what you do so much covet from me, nor can I hitherto
obtain an audience from the bishop on such account; but you shall
hear further in good time, as my own business doth yet stand
unmoved, and giveth me matter of disquiet. The Lord Treasurer's
distemper doth marvellously trouble the Queen, who saith, "that her
comfort hath been in her people's happiness, and their happiness in
his discretion:" neither can we find, in ancient record, such
wisdom, in a Prince to discern a servant's ability, nor such
integrity to reward and honour a Prince's choice—Quando ullum
inveniat parem?<105> I rest in good hope of seeing your lady, and
such branches of olive as may adorn your table, before Christmas
next; and may they bring you more peace than the branches which
adorn your neighbour Hatton's<106> brows; but—levius fit patientia,
et conjugem corrigere est nefas.<107>

JOHN HARINGTON.

What other news doth happen I will bear with me at my coming.



In Ireland with Essex, 1599



REPORT OF A JOURNEY INTO THE NORTH OF IRELAND
Written to Justice Carey, by Sir John Harington, 1599.

Having expected shipping till the 8th of this month, [April], and
meeting with none convenient, (in respect that all were taken up
with sick soldiers, or with my Lord Lieutenant's horses,) I was
desirous to make some use of the.time that I should stay here, and
therefore was easily persuaded to go with Sir William Warren,<108>
my kind friend, with whom I had been formerly acquainted in England,
and to see some part of the realm northward, and the arch-rebel
himself, with whom Sir William was to treat.

But staying at Dundalk till the 15th of this month, and no news
certain of the Earl's coming, I went to see the Newry, and from
thence to Carlingford by the Narrow Water, and was hindered by
waters that I could not come back to Sir William Warren before his
first meeting with the Earl Tyrone, which was on the 17th day; [at]
what time how far they proceeded I know not, but it appeared that
the Earl was left in good disposition, because he kept his hour so
well, the next morning: and, as I found after, Sir William had told
him of me, and given such a report of me above my desert, that next
day, when I came, the Earl used far greater respect to me than I
expected; and began debasing his own manner of hard life, comparing
himself to wolves, that fill their bellies sometime, and fast as
long for it; then excused himself to me that he could no better call
to mind myself, and some of my friends that had done him some
courtesy in England; and been oft in his company at my Lord of
Ormond's; saying, these troubles had made him forget almost all his
friends.

After this he fell to private communication with Sir William, to the
effecting of the matters begun the day before; to which I thought it
not fit to intrude myself; but took occasion the while to entertain
his two sons, by posing them in their learning, and their tutors,
which were one Friar Nangle, a Franciscan; and a younger scholar,
whose name I know not; and finding the two children of good towardly
spirit, their age between thirteen and fifteen, in English cloths
like a nobleman's sons; with velvet jerkins and gold lace; of a good
cheerful aspect, freckle-faced, not tall of stature, but strong, and
well set; both of them [learning] the English tongue; I gave them
(not without the advice of Sir William Warren) my English
translation of "Ariosto," which I got at Dublin; which their
teachers took very thankfully, and soon after showed it the Earl,
who called to see it openly, and would needs hear some part of it
read. I turned (as it had been by chance) to the beginning of the
45th canto,<109> and some other passages of the book, which he
seemed to like so well, that he solemnly swore his boys should read
all the book over to him.

Then they fell to communication again, and, (calling me to him) the
Earl said, that I should witness, and tell my Lord Lieutenant, how,
against all his confederates' wills, Sir William had drawn him to a
longer cessation, which he would never have agreed to, but in
confidence of my lord's honourable dealing with him; for, saith he,
"now is my harvest time, now have my men their six weeks pay afore-
hand, that they have nothing to do but fight; and if I omit this
opportunity, and you shall prepare to invade me the meantime, I may
be condemned for a fool."

Also one pretty thing I noted, that the paper being drawn for him to
sign, and his signing it with O'Neal, Sir William (though with very
great difficulty) made him to new write it, and subscribe, Hugh
Tyrone. Then we broke our fasts with him, and at his meat he was
very merry, and it was my hap to thwart one of his priests in an
argument to which he gave reasonable good ear, and some approbation.
He drank to my lord's<110> health, and bade me tell him he loved
him, and acknowledgd this cessation had been very honourably kept.
He made likewise a solemn protestation that he was not ambitious,
but sought only safety of his life, and freedom of his conscience,
without which he would not live, though the Queen.would give him
Ireland.

Then he asked of Sir Henry Harington,<111> and said he heard he had
much wrong, to have an imputation of want of courage, for the last
defeat at Arklow, protesting, that himself had known Sir Henry serve
as valiantly as ever any man did, naming the time, place, and
persons, all known to Sir William Warren.

Other pleasant and idle tales were needless and impertinent, or to
describe his fern table and fern forms, spread, under the. stately
canopy of heaven. His guard, for the most part, were beardless boys
without shirts; who, in the frost, wade as familiarly through rivers
as water-spaniels. With what charm such a master makes them love him
I know not, but if he bid come, they come, if go they do go; if he
say do this, they do it. He makes apparent show to be inclinable to
peace; and some of his nearest followers have it buzzed amongst
them, that some league of England, with Spain or Scotland, or I know
not where, may endanger them. But himself, no doubt, waits only to
hear what my Lord Lieutenant intends, and according to that will
bend his course.

Friar Nangle swears all oaths, that he will do all the good he can,
and that he is guiltless of the heinous crimes he is indicted of;
for, if he had his pardon, perhaps there might be made good use of
him.

This is all I remember any way worthy the writing to you, not
doubting but Sir William Warren, that had the sole charge, of this
business, will give you much better account, of the weightier
affairs than I, that only went to see their manner of parting.
I remain, in much duty,
JOHN HARINGTON.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO MR. THOMAS COMBE, HIS CONFIDENTIAL SERVANT,
from Trim, in Ireland—a further report of military proceedings,
1599.

Good Thomas,

I have received sundry letters from you, and namely the last dated
August 24th, which came not to my hands till the xxxth of September,
whereby it seems the messenger made slow speed, and who it was I
know not; and therefore, as I have directed others, so I wish you to
name in your letters, if you may, by whom you send them, that they
may receive thanks or blame, according to their care and speed. In
sundry of your letters, I have received good advertisment and honest
counsels, and great good wishes, all which I take in good part; to
satisfy you in part of my being here, and what I have seen, and how
I have sped (for I find you hear variable reports) you shall
understand, that, since my Lord Lieutenant came into Ireland, the
forces being divided as occasion required; some into Munster, some
to Lesly, many into the North, and a few into Connaught; it was
partly my hap, and partly my choice, for Sir Griffin Markham's sake,
and three Markhams more,<112> to go into Connaught; where I spent
some, weeks about Athlone, Ballinasloe, Clanrickard, Galway, and
lastly, Roscommon, the place then appointed for garrison. This while
I saw many things, and some well worth the observing, both for war
and peace; and notwithstanding all the dangerous passages through
paves (as they call those woods, which are full of rebels), and
through divers fords, which are likewise places of great
disadvantage, yet we passed through all with small loss;
notwithstanding, I say, the attempts and ambushes of fiery MacHugh,
of Connor Roe, of the O'Briens, of some of the Bourkes, and other
the rebels, such as the Joyces, and O'Maddens, and many mad knaves
beside. And this while my Lord Lieutenant went through Munster as
far as Askeaton, and was sometimes fought with upon places of
advantage, but without any great loss on either side. Neither in all
that journey was anything done greatly worth speaking of but the
taking of Cahir, and one or two castles beside.

After this, the next journey was to Offaly, where Sir Conyers
Clifford, the Governor of Connaught, met my Lord Essex, and Sir
Griffin Markham, and six of the best gentlemen of his troop came
with him and served bravely on foot; for no horse could pass the way
they came. They burned and spoiled a country called Ferrallie, and
won a castle of Tyrell's, one of the shrewdest rebels of Ireland,
and his companies did no less; so that all the country was on fire
at once, and our coming was so unlook'd for, that in the towns where
we came, the rebels had not leisure to carry away their young
children, much less their corn and other stuff. In all this journey
I was comrade to the Earl of Kildare,<113> and slept both on one
pillow every night for the most part; here, at the parting, my Lord
gave Sir Griffin Markham great commendations, and made him colonel
and commander of all the horse in Connaught; and gave me and some
others the honour of knighthood in the field: and so, my honest
Thomas, with honour, conquest, and content, we returned again into
Connaught. But see the changes and chances of war.—The Governor
would needs undertake a journey to Sligo, with twenty-one weak
companies, that were not 1400 strong; and a less proportion of horse
than had been requisite for such a purpose; and yet, out of his too
much haste and courage, after two long days' march, with small rest,
and less repast, he would needs draw his men to set upon the enemy
in a place of great disadvantage, called the Curlews;<114> where,
though the enemy was at first repulsed, yet at last their numbers
increasing, and our ammunition failing, or some secret cause, that
we know not, dismaying the footmen, they fell all in rout: the
Governor and Sir Alexander Radcliffe were slain ere they could come
to their rescue. Some of our horse gave a desperate charge upon the
hill, among rocks and bogs, where never horse was seen to charge
before; it is verily thought they had all been cut in pieces, at
least lost all their colours; so that, if reputation were to be
challenged when so great loss accompanied it, we might take upon us
to have won some honour; having, as Sir Henry Davers<115> did
pleasantly write to Sir Griffin Markham, "not Roman citizens, but
rascal soldiers, who, so their commanders had been saved, had been
worthy to have been half hanged for their rascal cowardliness."
Neither was this good service of ours unpaid for:—beside the loss of
two or three good horses, and better men, Sir Griffin Markham was
shot through the arm with a musket; and though he bore the hurt
admirable well, for a day or two, and especially at the instant, yet
ever since he hath kept his bed of it; and hath been in danger of
his arm by the hurt, and of his life by an ague: but now he is, I
hope, out of danger of both, and safe at Dublin. Myself (after I had
conducted him in a horse-litter safe beyond danger of the rebels,
within eight miles of Dublin,) went to Trim, the place appointed for
our garrison; and from thence have visited Navan and Arbrachan,
where my Lord Lieutenant lay yesterday, and the day before, and
meant to go from thence to the Brennys; but most men think, by means
the weather falls out so monstrous wet as the like hath not been
seen, that he will not go far north.

I lie here at Mr. Robert Hammon's house, who is this year port-reeve
of Trim, as much in effect as mayor. He shows the greatest gratitude
to me, and to all my friends for my sake that to my remembrance I
can say that no man hath done more. Yet was he not beholden to my
father for one foot of his living, but only for his breeding. I
recommend this example the rather unto you, because I would have you
follow it, as far as your ability and opportunity will give leave.

Now you see by the course of this letter, that I have reason to
thank God very greatly, that among so many as have been hurt and
slain, where I have been, and some shot even in the very same ranks
I was of, I have escaped all this while without bodily hurt. I
protest there is much rather great cause to thank God, who hath kept
me so long in bodily health at Roscommon, where not so few as sixty
died within the walls of the castle, in which we lay; and some as
lusty men as any came out of England. In the camp, where drinking
water, and milk, and vinegar, and aqua vita, and eating raw beef at
midnight, and lying upon wet green corn oft-times, and lying in
boots, with heats and colds, made many sick; yet myself (in a good
hour be it spoken and a better heard) was never sick; neither in the
camp nor the castle, at sea or on land. Besides all this, to vaunt
myself at large, to you; I have informed myself reasonably well of
the whole state of the country, by observations and conference; so
that I count the knowledge I have gotten here worth more than half
the three hundred pounds this journey hath cost me: and as to war,
joining the practice to the theory, and reading the book you so
praised, and other books of Sir Griffin Markham's,with his
conference and instructions, I hope at my coming home to talk of
counterscarpes, and cazamats,<116> with any of our captains.

The Irish lords, gentry, yea, and citizens, where I come, I have
found so apt to offer me kindness so desirous of my acquaintance,
that my friends think it a presage of a fortune I might rise to in
this kingdom; though myself do little affect it, and much less hope
to effect it. My "Ariosto" has been entertained into Galway, before
I came. When I got thither, a great lady, a young lady and a fair
lady, read herself asleep, nay dead, with a tale of it; the verse, I
think, so lively figured her fortune: for, as Olympia was forsaken
by the ungrateful Byreno, so had this lady been left by her unkind
Sir Calisthenes; whose hard dealing with her cannot be excused, no
not by Demosthenes.

Lastly, (which perhaps will seem strange to you, and was very
grateful to me,) three sons of my cousin Robert Markham of Cottam,
whom you know the world mistook to have been wronged by me, and
consequently deeply offended at me, have in their several kinds and
places offered me such courtesies, kindnesses, nay, such services,
as if they held me for one of their best friends in Ireland.

Thus, gentle Thomas, I have, in recompense of your long letters,
enlarged the discourse of my Irish affairs, but I must not forget
nor cease to tell her Majesty's good, wise and gracious providings
for us, her captains, and our soldiers, in summer heats and winter
colds, in hunger and thirst, for our backs and our bellies: that is
to say, every captain of an hundred footmen doth receive weekly,
upon every Saturday, his full entertainment of twenty-eight
shillings. In like case, every lieutenant fourteen shillings; an
ensign, seven shillings; our sergeant, surgeon, drum, and fife, five
shillings pay, by way of imprest; and every common soldier, three
shillings; delivered to all by the pole weekly. To the four last
lower officers, two shillings weekly; and for every common soldier,
twenty pence weekly, is to be answered to the full value thereof, in
good apparel of different kinds, part for winter, and part for
summer, which is ordered of good quality and stuff for the prices;
patterns whereof must be sent to the Lord Deputy to be compared and
prepared as followeth.

Apparel for an officer in winter.
A cassock<117> of broad cloth with bays, and trimmed with silk lace,
27 shillings and 7 pence.
A doublet of canvas with silk buttons, and lined with white linen,
14 shillings and 5 pence.
Two shirts and two bands, 9 shillings and 6 pence.
Three pair of kersey stockings, at 2 shillings and 4 pence a pair, 7
shillings.
Three pair of shoes of neat's leather, at 2 shillings and 4 pence
per pair, 7 shillings.
One pair of Venetians,<118> of broad Kentish cloth, with silver
lace, 15 shillings and 4 pence.

In Summer.
Two shirts and bands, 9 shillings 6 pence.
Two pair of shoes, 4 shillings 8 pence.
One pair of stockings, 2 shillings 8 pence.
A felt hat and band, 5 shillings 5 pence.

Apparel for a common soldier in winter.
A cassock of Kentish broad cloth, lined with cotton, and trimmed
with buttons and loops, 17 shillings 6 pence
A doublet of canvas with white linen lining, 12 shillings 6 pence.
A hat cap coloured, seven shillings.
Two shirts of Osnabruck holland and bands, 8 shillings.
Three pair of neat's leather shoes, 2 shillings 4 pence each, 7
shillings.
Three pair kersey stockings, 8 shillings.
One pair Venetians, of Kentish broad cloth, with buttons, loops, and
lining of linen, thirteen shillings 4 pence.

In Summer.
Two shirts of Osnabruck and 2 falling Holland bands, 7 shillings.
Two pair neat's leather shoes, 4 shillings 8 pence.
One pair of stockings, 2 shillings 8 pence.
A hat cap coloured, 3 shillings.

Thus, friend Thomas, her Majesty, with wonted grace hath graced our
bodies, and may heaven's grace clothe her in everlasting robes of
righteousness, and "on earth peace" to her who always showeth "good
will toward all men."

So resteth thy loving Master,

JOHN HARINGTON.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO SIR ANTHONY STANDEN, KNIGHT.
From Athlone, in Ireland, 1599.

<119> I doubt not but many pens and tongues utter, after many
fashions, the report of our late unfortunate journey, but yet I
thought it not amiss to write you this brief narration of it; which
I may say, quaeque ipse miserrima vidi, et quorum pars una fui.<120>
On Sunday last the governor marched with one and twenty companies,
or colours, (for indeed some of them were but mere colours of
companies, having sixty for a hundred and fifty,) from Tulsk, eight
miles beyond Roscommon, to the abbey of Boyle, some fourteen miles;
and hearing belike that the enemy was but weak in the Curlews, and
that they expected not his coming; (because captain Cosby the very
day before came from Boyle towards Roscommon:) on this account the
governor, God bless him, resolved to possess the Pare that night,
being two miles from the abbey. This was against the minds of most
of the captains: the soldiers being weary and fasting, insomuch that
they spake for meat ere they went up, but the governor promised them
they should have beef enough at night, and so drew them on: but
many, God wot, lost their stomachs before supper. The order was
this:—Captain Lister led the forlorn hope;<121> Sir Alexander
Ratcliff and his regiment had the vanguard; my Lord of Dublin led
the battle; Sir Arthur Savage, the rear; the horse were appointed to
stand in a little pasture at the foot of the hill, to the intent
that, when the Pare had been cleared, they might have come up. After
our men had gone up the hill and entered part of the Pare, the
rebels began to play upon them from a barricade that they had made;
but our men soon beat them from it, and Sir Alexander Radcliff very
bravely beat them out of a thin wood into a bog on the left side of
the Pare; and we who stood at the foot of the hill might see them,
and all men thought the Pare had been ours. But after the skirmish
had lasted an hour and half very hot, and our shot had expended all
our powder; the vanguard wheeled about in such a fashion, that, what
with that, and some strange and causeless fear, that fell upon our
men, the vanguard fell into the battle;<128> and in conclusion all
fell in rout, and no man could stay them. The governor himself,
labouring to turn them, lost his breath, his voice, his strength,
and last of all, his life;<122> or, which is worse, in the rebels'
hands, and none could force him off. How it can be answered at home
by such as it concerned most I know not, but so vile and base a part
I think was never played among so many men, that have been thought
of some desert. But now, the horse standing at the foot of the hill,
and seeing through the woods and glades some disorder, though not
suspecting so ill as it was, charged up the hill another way that
lay on the left: if it may be called a way, that had stones in it
six or seven feet broad, lying above ground, and plashes of bogs
between them. But with this charge we made the enemy retire; whereby
all the foot and colours came off; but we bought this small
reputation (if so it will be taken) very dearly, for our own
commander of the horse had his arm broken with a shot, and had
another shot through his clothes, and some seven or eight horse more
killed and several proper men. Captain [John] Jephson was next to
Sir Griffith Markham in the head of Lord Southampton's troops, and
charged very gallantly. I would not for all the land I have, but I
had been well horsed. I verily think the idle faith which possesses
the Irishry, concerning magic and witchcraft, seized our men and
lost the victory. For when my cousin Sir H. Harington, in a
treacherous parley with Rory Og,<123> a notable rebel, was taken and
conveyed to his habitation a prisoner; his friends not complying
with the terms offered for his ransom, sent a large band to his
rescue, which the rebel seeing to surround his house, rose in his
shirt, and gave Sir Henry fourteen grievous wounds, then made his
way through the whole band and escaped, notwithstanding his walls
were only mud.<124> Such was their panic, as verily thinking he
effected all by dint of witchery, and had by magic compelled them
not to touch him. And this belief doth much daunt our soldiers when
they come to deal with the Irishry, as I can well perceive from
their discourse. You will hear more from other captains of further
advances:

So I rest, to all command,

JOHN HARINGTON.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON'S REPORT CONCERNING THE EARL OF ESSEX'S JOURNEYS
IN IRELAND
from May 10 to July 3, 1599.

<125> After the Lord Lieutenant-general and Governor of Ireland had
rested certain days at Dublin, for establishing the state of the
kingdom, and for making his necessary provision for the war, (which
I can but conjecture) his Lordship departed thence (May 10) toward
the champion<129> fields between the villages Kilrush and
Castlemartin: in which place (on the 12th) he appointed to meet him
17 ensigns of foot and 300 horse; which his Lordship divided into
regiments, appointing the same to be commanded by colonels. The day
following, the rebels showed themselves in small numbers, delivering
some few shot out of woods and ditches upon our vant-couriers, but
without any hurt. This night the army lodged by Athy, which hath
been a great market, but brought by these wars into the state of a
poor village. It is divided in two parts by the river Barrow, over
the which lieth a stone bridge, and over that a castle, occupied by 
James Fitz Dean (a gent. of the family of the Geraldines,) who
yielded himself to the mercy of the Lord Lieutenent; as did also,
the same day, the Lord Viscount Mountgarret and the Lord of Cahir
(both Butlers) who were presented to his Lord by the Earl of Ormond,
who in that place joined his forces to our army. His Lord having put
a guard in the castle of Athy, passed his forces over the Barrow by
the bridge of the castle; whose river being not otherways fordable
but with difficulty, and the bridge thereof the only way which
leadeth into the Queen's County, the importance of this enterprise
must appear to the most dull and ignorant sense. At Woodstock (a
village situate upon Barrow) his Lord expected victuals a day or two
for the relief of Maryborough, (a fort of much importance, but of
contemptible strength,) in the Queen's County; to which his Lord now
hasted, not permitting other stay in his journey, than necessity
gave cause. During the time the army encamped (May 14) by Woodstock,
the rebels attempted the stealing of some of our horses; which being
perceived by Sir Christopher St. Lawrence (son to the Lord of Howth)
he passed by the Barrow naked, and, followed by his men, rescued the
prey, and returned with the head of a rebel. About the same time,
the rebel presented himself about 200 strong, in the sight of the
Castle Reban, (a house of Capt. Leas, a mile from the army,) which,
upon sight of the Earl of Southampton, who hasted towards them in
most soldierlike order, with a small troop of horse and foot,
retired themselves to their bogs, and from thence to their woods.
There the Lord Grey, being carried nearer to the rebel by heat of
valour (natural to such years and nobility) than was reasonable, and
contrary to the commandment of the Earl of Southampton, was, for his
contempte punished by the Lord Lieutenant with a night's
imprisonment.<126> So soon as his Lord was provided of victuals, he
marched with his army towards the fort Maryborough, in the Queen's
County. In the way, the rebel showed himself by a passage called
Blackford; through which my Lord marched in such excellent order,
that it terrified him not to attempt upon any part of the army, but
to approach near unto the same. His Lord having victualled the fort,
(where he knighted Sir Fra. Rushe, the general lately of the
province of Leinster, and increased the garrison,) lodged that night
(May 17) at the foot of a very high hill, called Croshy Juffe, where
the rebel once in Rory O'More showed himself, with about 500 foot
and 40 horse, 2 miles from our camp, renewing that night, and
continuing the next morning, a challenge, which he had made a few
days before, to fight (some of his with some of ours) with swords
and targets;<127> which was consented unto by his Lordship, but the
rebel never came to perform it. His Lordship having, from the top of
Croshy Juffe, viewed the country round about, and particularly the
way of that day's journey, led the army towards Cashel, half a mile
from that night's quarter. The nature of the passage is such:—
through a thick wood, half of a mile long, leadeth a high way, in
most places 10 going paces broad, which, in the midst, was traversed
with a trench, and the wood plashed on both sides; from behind
which, the enemy might with facility gall our men in their passage.
To the other two sides of the wood are adjoined two bogs, which
serve the rebel for a very sure retreat from all force of our army:
but upon an elevated piece of ground between the wood and bog, on
the left hand, was a village, from behind which the rebel might fall
in, and return to his strength. His Lordship to make his way secure
through this passage, ordered his army in this sort:—The whole army
was divided into seven battalions; before the vanguard marched the
forlorn hope,<121> consisting of 40 shot and 20 short weapons, with
order that the shot should not be discharged till they presented
their pieces to the rebels' breasts in their trenches; and that
suddenly the short weapons should enter the trenches pell-mell. Upon
either side of the vanguard (which was observed in the battle<128>
and rearguard) marched wings of shot, interlined with pikes, to
which were sent seconds, with as much care and diligence as occasion
required. The baggage and a part of the horse marched before the
battle; the rest of the horse fell in before the rearguard, except
30, which, under the conducte of Sir Henry Davers, made the retreat
of the whole army. These going to the release of Capt. Morrisham,
who was engaged by the rebel, they repelled him without any other
loss, than that Sir Alexander Ratcliffe had his horse shot in the
head of the troop. The vanguard, followed by the other parts of the
army, having by provident march gained the end of the passage (where
discovered itself a large champion<129>) was commanded to make halt,
until the horse, and whatsoever was unprofitable in the strait, were
advanced to the plain. This was the order (as I have heard)
appointed by the Lord Lieutenant; which being not observed in all
parts of the army with like diligence, there were lost by folly
Capt. Gardner and Capt. Boswell, with some 3 private men. His Lp.
was that day in no place, (that is, in every place) flying like
lightning from one part of the army to another, leading, directing,
and following the vanguard, battle, and rearguard. The deaths of our
captains were revenged by our quartermen and scoutmen, who
accompanied with divers gentlemen, slew 7 of the rebels, which
essayed to force the quarter; of which were Alexander Donnell, a
gentleman, and Donal Knogger, of base birth, but for the proof of
his daring and skill, of especial esteem with Tyrone. In this
conflict, Edmond Bushell, gent. usher to his Lp. received a hurt in
the breast with a pike. The day following (May 19) the Lord
Lieutenant, observing the former order of march, led his men through
the passage called Ballyragget, where we found the rebels so few in
number, and so timorous in attempting, as their behaviour (on the
20th) proved, that the order of the other day's march was terrible
unto them. These passages thus overcome, to the no small terror of
the rebel, and admiration to the soldiers, his Lord came to
Kilkenny, where he was received with as much joy of the citizens as
could be expressed, either by lively orations, or silent strewing of
the streets with herbs and rushes. To Clonmel (on the 24th) his Lp.
was well welcomed, to the like joy of the people, and with a Latin
oration, or rather a dialogue, wherein the author had adjured his
Lp. concerning the establishing of peace in Ireland; which, being
delivered in unfit terms, his Lord reproved, protesting his
antipathy concerning matters of justice; to moderate which, her
sacred Majesty had given him both sword and power. The day after
(the 25th) the castle Darenclare, which had long time offended the
citizens of Clonmel in their traffic by the river of Suir to
Waterford, yielded to his Lps. mercy. In the midst of the river of
Suir lieth an island, the same a natural rock, and upon it a castle,
which, although it be not built with any great art, yet is the site
such by nature, that it may be said to be inexpugnable. Of this
castle, which is called Cahir, is the Lord of Cahir entitled Baron;
which being held by James Butler, his younger brother, the Lord
Lieutenant sent the Lord of Cahir to parley with him; and with him
Sir Henry Davers, whom he adjured, during the parley, to understand
as much as he might the nature of the place: who, returning with the
Lord of Cahir, (well satisfied that his brother would not yield up
the castle) related the site and strength of the castle to be such
as is mentioned. This night his Lordship reviewed the place himself
in person, and caused the same to be done by the Lord Marshal and
Serjeant Major, commanding that after a diligent review, the
approaches, (taking the advantage by way of old ditches and walls,)
should that night be removed to the wall of the counter-scarp. One
day being intermitted, without doing anything, for want of the
artillery, which could not arrive in short, the same being only
drawn by the force of men: there passed a day or two, before the
battery was commenced. The same night that the battery was planted
(May 28) his Lordship sent the Lord Marshal and Serjeant Major, with
300 men, to occupy a garden which adjoined to the castle, upon the
southwest part. Although the passages to this garden were such, that
a very small number might have made front to an army, yet, did these
beasts first quit that place, and presently after, they abandoned
the castle, except 8 persons; to the relief of which were sent,
early in the morning, 100 kern<130> by the White Knight. In the
beginning of the night, (May 29) Sir Christopher St. Lawrence was
sent, with 300 kern men, to possess an island which lieth from the
castle north-east (not more than harquebus<131> shot) and to break
up two bridges; one of which leadeth from the island to the main,
and the other from the same island to the castle. The rebels (on the
30th) seeing themselves, in the morning, secluded from that relief
which they hourly expected from Desmond, and from the White Knight,
at night they conveyed themselves (with much stillness) out of the
castle, which yet being perceived by our guards, they fell presently
to execution, and entered as well the castle without resistance as
direction; by which accident was repossessed for her Majesty, with
the slaughter of 80 rebels, one of the strongest places by nature
that is in Ireland, or that can be imagined elsewhere. During this
siege, Capt. Brett was shot in the body with a harquebus, as was
also Capt. George Cary, through both cheeks and through the body,
the bullet entering above the left shoulder, and passing through the
opposite arm hole; which hurts were more than miraculous, for that
there were only 3 shot made, and his body in all other parts covered
with an armor of musket proof. These 2 worthy captains, having in
this siege, as in many other places, made honourable proofs of their
virtue, left, within a few days, the example thereof to be admired
of all, but to be imitated of few, and they themselves departed to a
happier life. His Lordship having (May 31) repaired the breaches of
the castle, and left such a garrison in the same as must annoy the
frontering<132> rebel, (his sick men being sent to Clonmel,) he
arrived by easy journeys at Limerick, where he was entertained with
two English orations; in which I know not which was more to be
discommended, their particular excellencies in barbarism, harshness,
and rustical both pronouncing and action. The army, which had
endured much, as well by foul ways as by unseasonable weather, being
well refreshed by the release it received from Limerick, was
conducted by his Lordship to Adare, a ruinated abbey; in which
village his Lordship lodged a regiment of foot. Passing the same day
(June 4) over the river Adare, over a narrow bridge, which was well
perceived by the rebels Desmond and Lacy; who never made a show to
prohibit the passage, although they had (not much more than musket
shot from the same) about 12 foot under 5 ensigns and 2 cornets of
horse, either appearing at least to be a 100. They were trained in
sight of our army, (divided from it by an unfordable river and a
bog) but in such disorder, that it rather seemed a morris dance, by
their tripping after their bagpipes, than any soldier-like exercise;
they conveying themselves (after a while) in a ringdance into the
wood which they had close at their backs, and from which they have
not departed farther at any time, since our army entered Munster,
than an old hunted hare doth from her covert for relief. Early in
the morriing the army passed the river, and marched towards a
passage, half a mile from Adare, which had on either side a wood,
but under that on the right hand a bog, by the head of which
extended itself the wood on the left hand; the passage lay over the
bog, which was very deficient both for main natural strength which
we found in the same, and for pillages made that morning by the
rebel. At the entrance into the passage between the woods, the
dexter wings being not so far advanced as the forlorn hopes; his
Lordship (being in the head of his troops to direct them) had
delivered upon close at hand, a volley of at least 100 shot; which
were instantly repelled by some troops which his Lordship caused to
be drawn forth of the vanguard, commanded that day by the Earl of
Thomond. His lordship, having with the loss of more than an 100
without any loss of his own, put the rebel to retreat on that part,
possessed himself of the passage, placing on either side a regiment
to assure the same; and, that done, returned to give order to the
rearguard, where he was in like danger as before in the vanguard,
overcoming the same with the like order, but not altogether with so
much slaughter. The rebel thus repelled, by the prudence of his
Lordship, the whole troops marched through the passage, not alone
without loss, but without any difficulty. On the left hand of the
passage was Plunkett lodged, who with 300 rebels (making show that
day, and with apt echo in the wood, with the report of 30 or 40
shot) was constrained the next day to give pledges to for
th'assurance of his faith. From the passage his lordship conducted
his army to the Castle Askeaton, which was then something distressed
by the rebel, who intercepted the passage in such sort, as until the
time it could not conveniently receive any relief from Limerick,
from whence it was now victualled by his lordship, the rebel neither
hindering his lordship to pass nor repass his army over the river of
Deel, upon which Askeaton is situate, where a small number might
have made head to a copious troop; nor endeavoring any notable
offence, in any place where they might have proved their force with
much advantage. His Lordship (as I conjecture, to give the rebel an
inexcusable provocation) diverted his journey towards the Castle
Conon in county of Cork, Desmond's chief house.

In the way, passing between woods, (hard by Pheinter's town) which
flanked the army on either side within musket shot, his Lordship,
peradventure to let the rebel know the virtue of his men, and their
weakness, entertained skirmish with them in their own strength;
forcing them to abandon the same, without other loss, than that Sir
Henry Norris,<133> presenting a charge with his troop of horse, had
his leg broken with a shot; the which, to prevent the last evil, or
rather the first, [on] entrance into guard, was cut off, a few days
after, at Kilmallock. He endured the same with extraordinary
patience. His Lordship, according to his custom, finding himself in
every place of action, was this day in as much danger as any private
man. So was likewise the Earl of Southampton in much danger,
expecting perpetually in the head of the troop (all the time of the
skirmish) opportunity to charge the rebel. The Lord Grey, having
that day the vanguard of horse, gave charge, with 12 of his horse,
to as many of the rebels; forcing them into the woods to their foot.
There died of the rebel clan, Donnell, and one of the Burghes, both
commanders; only of ours, Capt. Jennings, Sir Henry Norris being, by
report, certainly recovered, as is also Fra. Markham, a gent. of
known valour, who had his right cheek pierced with a bullet (June
16.) The same day that the army passed by Castle Connor, was the
same entertained in skirmish from the skirt of a road called Banno
Coulaghe by Mac Carthy's men, where Sir Henry Davers (endeavouring
to save certain stragglers that indiscreetly had engaged themselves)
was shot in the face, the bullet passing to the root of his left
ear, where it still resteth, but without any anoyance, he being
already perfectly recovered. Desmond, instead of defending his
castle, razed the same; by which, through his whole country, the
army marched without any offence, although he might have presented
himself in our way in places of exceeding advantage; so that,
without any impeachment of the rebel, his Lordship arrived, on the
22nd (notwithstanding great brags by Desmond) unfought withal, at
Waterford, where his Lordship was received with two Latin orations,
and with as much joyful concourse of people as any other town of
Ireland. During his Lordship's abode in Waterford, the importance of
the plan requiring the same, on the 23rd, he reviewed with careful
diligence the harbour, as also the fort Duncannon, which guard the
same; the site and fabricature of which declare Sir John Norris<134>
(by whose approbation that was chosen, and then allowed) as judicial
an engineer, as his other arts have ennobled him for a worthy
soldier. For the site, it is so overtopped by a imminent height, not
distant from it more than 150 paces, that no man can stand firm in
the piazza of the fort; and as for any art of fortification, whereof
the fort should participate, and whereby skilful engineers are
accustomed to render places more defensible, I should think the same
(submitting yet my censure to the controlment of more experienced
judgments) an insufficient entrenchment, and consequently a most
defective fortress; whose shelter affordeth firm lodging under it to
an enemy, covering him from all offences of the parapet, and yet not
the same raised to such height as may secure the defendants in the
strata cooperta;<135> whose ditches are low and narrow and shallow;
whose rampart and parapet are low and slender; whose defences are a
forbici and in barba; and, that which is worse, there correspondence
hindered by the casemates in the ditch, whose piazza is narrow,
affording no place for retreat, when that rampart which is, shall
either be beaten or topped; all which misfortunes are found in that
part of the fort which regardeth the navy.<136> The part of the fort
towards the water, although it hath not so many defects as the
former, yet hath it as gross errors as any are mentioned. The two
platforms being both of them so scant that they are not alone
capable of such a number of pieces as might serve to command the
water, but that they which are there have not sufficient place for
their recoil: the defects of which platforms are suited with
answerable parapets, which being slender and of stone, they promise
(instead of security) death, to as many as shall, in time of
necessity, present themselves to defence.

From Waterford to Dublin (whither his Lordship was now (June 25) in
return with his army) leadeth a double way; the one through the
glens, which denieth passage to horse and carriages; the other along
the sea shore, by which his Lordship reviewed his army, as well,
peradventure, for the convenience of the passage, as to visit in his
way the garrisons of Enniscorthy, Arklow, Wicklow, and Newcastle.
Until the army had passed Enniscorthy, the rebel never showed
himself; for all the former day's march was through a plain.
champion,<129> where he never trusteth himself; but before the army
was advanced the midway from Enniscorthy towards Arklow, the rebel,
(aided with the opportunity of woods and bogs,) presented himself in
our way, for the destroying of certain villages; all which (and only
which) his Lordship caused, in despite of him, to be consumed with
fire, on June 30. About three miles from Arklow, the army was to
pass a ford, where the enemy presented himself in our way, with
opinion, as may be conjectured, if not to prohibit, yet to trouble
the army in the passage. The skirmish was for one half hour hotly
maintained, either part contending the forme; the other, by fresh
seconds, borrowed from their gross<139> which they had at hand. The
Lord Lieutenant, thinking to inclose the rebel between his horse and
foot, commanded the Lord of Southampton (who was now passing the
ford) to take the first opportunity to charge; but the rebel (whose
dread of our horse causeth them to observe diligently all their
motions) perceiving the Earl of Southampton to advance with his
troops, retired himself into his strength, a part of them casting
away their arms for lightness, which yet escaped not altogether the
execution of the Lord Lieutenant, who directed the foot in that
part. The rebel was to pass in his strength through two small fields
enclosed; through the end of the second of which lay a horse way
unto a neighbour wood. His Lordship, invited by the opportunity of
the place, commanded [Lieut. Busshell, <137>] an Irish commander of
horse, to charge, who committed a double error: the one, that he
sent out 20 or 30 of his troop before the rest, which might have
broken the rebels, and have received his first volley; the other,
that, for about 12 shot that were delivered upon his troop, he
turned head, when his trumpet sounded a charge; giving life to more
than 200 rebels that stood at his mercy. In the meanwhile, while
these things were in hand, the whole troops were passed the sands,
and his Lordship began to continue his march towards Arklow; laying
in a village upon the way an ambuscade of about 40 horse, which
might cut off the rebel, &c. (which his Lordship most judicially
supposed he should approach to offend the rear: but the rebel (who
is not easily surprised by ambuscade) either perceiving or
suspecting deceit, made an halt with his two troops, which appeared 
to be about 800 foot and 50 horse, (a number which, howsoever it
seem contemptible, yet is it sufficient to fight, in the strengths
of the country, with 50 such armies as ours.) His Lordship,
perceiving the rebels stay, rallied his horse to their place; and,
the country being (to appearance) plain and firm champion, the whole
army seemed to promise to itself security, and the rebel not
presuming, every man attended only to hasten to the quarters in a
speedy march, whereby the army was distracted into an excessive
length, and brought thereby (although into no disorder) yet into
some unreadiness. While the army marched, his Lordship, nothing
being more familiar unto him than to observe the order of his own
troops in their march, ascended for this purpose the top of a hill,
whose height discovereth the whole plain; and perceiving from thence
that the rebel prepared to give upon the rear of the sinister wing
of the vanguard, led by Marmaduke Constable, Ensign to Capt. Ellis
Jones, he commanded the Lord of Southampton (to whom gathered
suddenly a few straggling horse) to haste to their succour. In the
meantime, while the Lord of Southampton was occupied in the assuring
of the feat, and endeavouring to draw the rebel (which held him in
his strength) upon firm ground, the Lord Lieutenant, not attended
upon by more than 6 or 7 horse,<138> presented a charge to the
rebels' gross<139> of horse and foot, which was now making towards
the Earl of Southampton, whom they saw to be engaged and to be upon
a ground disadvantageous for horse; but, perceiving the resolution
of the Lord Lieutenant, who constantly expected them upon the side
of a bog which lay between him and them, they made a halt; about
which time, the Lord Southampton, having increased the number of his
horse to about 24, seeing it lost time to endeavour to draw the
vermin from their strength, resolved to charge them at all
disadvantage; which was performed with that suddenness and
resolution, that the enemy, which before was dispersed in skirmish,
had not time given him to put himself in order; so that, by the
opportunity of occasion taken by the Earl, and virtue of them that
were with him, (which were almost all noble) there was made a
notable slaughter of the rebels. Such as escaped from their gross
were intercepted from their gross (to which they laboured to retire)
by our foot, sent thither by the Lord Lieutenant in relief of the
horse; many of which, by the too much forwardness of the riders,
were there embogged; by whose enfortunate death, Capt. Cayen, whose
industry had adorned him with much both science and language, died
in the plain; and Capt. Constable, after a double wound, saved
himself by his own virtue. That which the foot did in this part was
not less glorious than that of the horse, their being a stand made
by Sir Henry Poor, Capt. Courtney, and Ensign Constable, with 100
against (at least) 400 rebels. But that which hindered the coming
down of the rebels was the presence of the Lord Lieutenant, who
stood in a place fit to offend both by direction and number, having
a little before joined unto him the rearward of foot and horse. The
rebels, Donogh Hispanagh, and Phelim MacFeagh, moved either with the
slaughter of theirs, whereof died more than a 100, (five of which
were commanders;) or terrified with the order, readiness, and virtue
of our men, which drew their route, desired Sir Thomas Davers,<140>
who that day commanded the rearguard of horse, to come out unto his
Lordship, upon pretexts which his Lordship denied, as a course unfit
for rebels, refusing to receive them upon other terms than upon
submission to her Majesty's mercy. The next day following (July 1)
his Lordship viewed the place, where (some weeks before) Phelim
MacFeagh, with 400 foot and 150 horse (on a plain of unspeakable
advantage to our men) had overthrown Sir Hen. Harington, Knight, who
had with him 450 foot and 60 horse. They which escaped by flight, or
by base hiding of themselves from the force of the rebels' sword,
were by a martial court condemned (on the 3rd) to be hanged on the
gallows; which sentence was mitigated by his Lordship's mercy, by
which every 10th man was sentenced only to die; the rest appointed
to serve in the army for pioneers.

Thus is my discourse, guided by the footsteps of victorious and
successful journeys, returned as it were (in a circular revolution)
to Dublin, his first period, where the Lord Lieutenant now
remaineth, meditating, as it is thought, a second journey.

If in this relation I have omitted any thing of note, or noted any
thing superfluous, either error is ignorance, neither judgment; my
purpose being to discourse briefly the journey, without either
amplifying small accidents, or detracting from well-deserving
persons, which, for their satisfaction, as many as know me will
believe; and, as for the rest, I desire not to know them.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO SIR ANTHONY STANDEN, KNIGHT, 1600.
Written in his rural retreat at Kelston, whither he had retired from
the danger and displeasure which prevailed at court, on the failure
of the Irish expedition.

Sir,

It is not a lake of Lethe, that makes us forget our friends, but it
is the lack of good messengers; for who will write, when his letters
shall be opened by the way, and construed at pleasure, or rather
displeasure?—Some used this in Ireland, that perhaps have repented
it since in England. I came to court in the very heat and height of
all displeasures: after I had been there but an hour, I was
threatened with the Fleet; I answered poetically, "that coming so
late from the land-service, I hoped that I should not be pressed to
serve in her Majesty's fleet in Fleet-street." After three days
every man wondered to see me at liberty; but though, in conscience,
there was neither rhyme nor reason to punish me for going to see
Tyrone; yet if my rhyme had not been better liked of than my reason,
(I mean when I gave the young Baron of Dungannon an Ariosto,) I
think I had lain by the heels for it. But I had this good fortune,
that, after four or five days, the Queen had talked of me, and twice
talked to me, though very briefly. At last she gave me a full and
gracious audience in the withdrawing chamber at Whitehall, where
herself being accuser, judge, and witness, I was cleared, and
graciously dismissed. What should I say! I seemed to myself, for the
time, like St. Paul, rapt up in the third heaven, where he heard
words not to be uttered by men; for neither must I utter what I then
heard: until I come to heaven, I shall never come before a statelier
judge again, nor one that can temper majesty, wisdom, learning,
choler, and favour, better than her Highness did at that time. In
the discourse you were not unspoken of her. You shall hear ere long,
but not by writing, for I will send a man. Thus much I adventure to
write by this boy; but I trust him with no messages. I omitted no
opportunity of mentioning and gracing, the best I could, all my
friends while I stayed at London. In December I came hither, but
since, I hear little and do nothing but sit by a good fire, and feed
my lean horses, and hearken for good news, but hear none, save the
certain expectation of peace with Spain.

My Lord Keeper<141> is a widower. Doctor Eaton<142> hath eaten the
bishopric of Ely; all the clergy wish him choked with it. Mr.
Edmondes<143> hath been with the Duchess of Burgundy, and well used;
and she speaketh much honour of the Queen, which moves great hope of
a league. You wonder I write nothing of one: <144>—believe me I hear
nothing; but he is where he was, and I think must be, till these
great businesses be concluded. Let this suffice from a private
country knight, that lives among clouted shoes, in his frieze jacket
and galoshes. and who envies not the great commanders of Ireland,
but hereby commends himself to them.

Your true friend,

JOHN HARINGTON.

Kelston, near Bath,

Feb. 20, 1600.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO SIR HUGH PORTMAN, KNIGHT
Represents his visit to court, and the alteration in Queen
Elizabeth's manners and temper since the death of Essex:—resolves
not to leave his poor castle of Kelston again, lest he should find a
worse elsewhere.

My honoured Friend,

I humbly thank you for that venison I did not eat, but my wife did
it much commendation. For six weeks I left my oxen and sheep, and
venturd to court, where I find many lean-kinded beasts, and some not
unhorned. Much was my comfort in being well received,
notwithstanding it is an ill hour for seeing the Queen. The madcaps
are all in riot, and much evil threatened. In good sooth I feared
her Majesty more than the rebel Tyrone, and wished I had never
received my Lord of Essex's honour of knighthood. She is quite
disfavoured, and unattired, and these troubles waste her much. She
disregardeth every costly cover that cometh to the table, and taketh
little but manchet and succory potage.<145> Every new message from
the city doth disturb her, and she frowns on all the ladies. I had a
sharp message from her brought by my Lord Buckhurst, namely thus,
"Go tell that witty fellow, my godson, to get home; it is no season
now to fool it here." I liked this little as she doth my
knighthood,<146> so took to my boots and returned to the plow in bad
weather. I must not say much, even by this trusty and sure
messenger; but the many evil plots and designs have overcome all her
Highness' sweet temper. She walks much in her privy chamber, and
stamps with her feet at news, and thrusts her rusty sword at times
into the arras in great rage. My Lord Buckhurst is much with her,
and few else since the city business;<147> but the dangers are over,
and yet she always keeps a sword by her table. I obtained a short
audience at my first coming to court, when her Highness told me, "If
ill counsel had brought me so far from home, she wished Heaven might
mar that fortune which she had mended." I made my peace in this
point, and will not leave my poor castle of Kelston, for fear of
finding a worse elsewhere, as others have done. I will eat Aldborne
rabbits, and get fish (as you recommend) from the man at Curry-
Rival; and get partridge and hares when I can, and my venison where
I can; and leave all great matters to those that like them better
than myself. Commend me to your Lady and all other ladies that ever
heard of me. Your books are safe, and I am in liking to get Erasmus
for your entertainment.

JOHN HARINGTON.

From Kelston, Oct. 9. 1601.

I coud not move in any suit to serve your neighbour B., such was the
face of things; and so disordered is all order, that her Highness
hath worn but one change of raiment for many days, and swears much
at those that cause her griefs in such wise, to the no small
discomfiture of all about her, more especially our sweet Lady
Arundel,<148> that Venus plus quam venusta.<149>



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO HIS LADY, 1602.
Relates another interview with the Queen, his royal godmother, whose
increasing infirmities and pitiable state are interestingly shown,
and her speedy releasement from human pains and misery, truly
predicted.

Sweet Mall,

Herewith I send thee, what I would God none did know, some ill
bodings of the realm and its welfare. Our dear Queen, my royal
godmother, and this state's natural mother, doth now bear show of
human infirmity, too fast for that evil which we shall get by her
death, and too slow for that good which she shall get by her
releasement from pains and misery.

Dear Mall, how shall I speak what I have seen, or what I have felt?—
Thy good silence in. these matters, emboldens my pen. For, thanks to
the sweet god of silence! thy lips, do not wanton out of
discretion's path, like the many gossiping dames we coud name, who
lose their husband's fast hold in good friends, rather than hold
fast their own tongues. Now I will trust thee with great assurance,
and whilst thou dost brood over thy young ones in the chamber, thou
shalt read the doings of thy grieving mate in the court.

I find some less mindful of what they are soon to lose, than of what
they may perchance hereafter get. Now, on my own part, I cannot blot
from my memory's table,<150> the goodness of our Sovereign Lady to
me, even (I will say) before borne; her affections to my mother who
waited in privy chamber, her bettering the state of my father's
fortune, (which I have, alas! so much worsted,) her watchings over
my youth, her liking to my free speech, and admiration of my little
learning and poesy, which I did so much cultivate on her command,
have rooted such love, such dutiful remembrance of her princely
virtues, that to turn askance from her condition with tearless eyes,
would stain and foul the spring and fount of gratitude.

It was not many days since I was bidden to her presence. I blessed
the happy moment; and found her in most pitiable state. She bade the
archbishop ask me if I had seen Tyrone? I replied, with reverence,
that "I had seen him with the Lord Deputy." She looked up, with much
choler and grief in her countenance, and said, "Oh, now it mindeth
me that you was one who saw this man elsewhere:"—and hereat, she
dropped a tear, and smote her bosom. She held in her hand a golden
cup, which she often put to her lips; but, in sooth, her heart
seemeth too full to lack more filling. This sight moved me to think
on what passed in Ireland; and I trust she did not less think on
some who were busier there than myself. She gave me a message to the
Lord Deputy, and bade me come to the chamber at seven o'clock.
Hereat some who were about her did marvel, as I do not hold so high
place as those she did not choose to do her commands. Dear Mall, if
I get no profit, I shall get some envy, and this business may turn
to some account with the Lord Deputy. Her Majesty enquired of some
matters which I had written; and as she was pleased to note my
fanciful brain, I was not unheedful to feed her humour, and read
some verses, whereat she smiled once, and was pleased to say;—"When
thou dost feel creeping time at thy gate, these fooleries will
please thee less; I am past my relish for such matters: thou seest
my bodily meat doth not suit me well; I have eaten but one ill-
tasted cake since yesternight." She rated most grievously, at noon,
at some who minded not to bring up certain matters of account.
Several men have been sent to, and when ready at hand, her Highness
hath dismissed in anger; but who, dearest Mall, shall say, that
"your Highness hath forgotten."

I was honoured at dinner with the archbishop and several of the
church pastors, where I did find more corporeal than spiritual
refreshment, and though our ill state at court may, in some sort,
overcast the countenance of these apostolical messengers; yet were
some of them well anointed with the oil of gladness on Tuesday last.
Hereof thou shalt in some sort partake. My Lord of Salisbury had
seized his tenants corn and hay, with sundry husbandry matters, for
matters of money due to his lordship's estate: hereat the aggrieved
man made suit to the bishop, and requested longer time and
restitution of his goods:—"Go, go, (saith the bishop) I hear ill
report of thy living, and thou canst not crave mercy; thou comest
not to church service, and hast not received confirmation; I command
thee to attend my ordinance and be confirmed in thy faith at Easter
next coming."—"I crave your lordship's forgiveness, (quoth the man,)
in good sooth I durst not come there, for as your lordship hath lain
your hand on all my goods, I think it full meet to take care of my
head!"—Such was part of our discourse at dinner. So thou seest,
sweet Mall, although the bishops hand was heavy, our peasant's head
was not weak, and his lordship said he would forego his payment.

Next month I will see thy sweet face, and kiss my boys and maids,
which I pray thee not to omit on my account. Send me up, by my man
Combe, my Petrarch. Adeiu, sweet Mall.

I am thine ever loving

JOHN HARINGTON.

Dec. 27th, 1602.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON'S NEW YEAR'S GIFT TO KING JAMES
A curious relic of court-craft.

1. A dark lantern, <151> made of four metals, gold, silver, brass,
and iron.

2. The top of it was a crown of pure gold, which also did serve to
cover a perfume pan.

3. There was within it a shield of silver embossed, to give a
reflection to the light, on one side of which

4. Was the sun, the moon, and vii stars.

5. On the other side, the story of the birth and passion of Christ,
as it is found graved by a King of Scots that was prisoner in
Nottingham, in a vault called to this day the King of Scots'
prison.<152>

6. The word was that of the good thief

"Lord, remember me when thou comest in thy kingdom."
Domine, memento mei cum veneris in regnum.

And a little beneath,

Post crucem, lucem.<153>

7. The wax candle, to be removed at pleasure to the top, and so to
make a candlestick, stood in a foot of brass.

8. The snuffers, and all the outside of the lantern, of iron and
steel plate.

9. The perfume in a little silver globe, filled with musk and amber,
of all which and their applications, these ensuing verses were
written.

VERSES OF THE LANTERN.

WHEN that wise counterfeit to Phoebus went,
And would a gift of price to him present;
Hiding a jewel rich in hollow cane,
No gift was seen, a great gift yet was ta'en:
And thus, divinely taught, he got his wishes,
Giving to mother earth well hastened kisses.
Excellent prince! and our Apollo rising,
Accept a present sent in like disguising:<154>
And though it come in feigned name unknown,
Yet love unfeigned may therein be shown.
Silver is closed in steel, in darkness light,
Only the crown apparent stands in sight.
In argent shield are sacred stories shown,
Stories to your great ancestor well known,
Who shut in Nottingham and kept apart,
Grav'd there this godly monument of art.
This story at his fingers' ends he knew,
For with his fingers' ends the same he drew.
Eke<155> other fancies lurk in this our present,
The use and sense whereof is not unpleasant.
Four metals ages four resemble do,
Of which the golden age God send to you!
Of steel, I wish small use and little lasting,
Of brass, gold, silver, plenty never wasting.
The sun, moon, stars, and those celestial fires
Foretell the heavens shall prosper your desires:
And as the snuffers quench the light and snuff,
So may you quench those take your acts in snuff.
The candle, the emblem of a virtuous king,
Doth waste his life to others light to bring.
To your fair queen, and sweet babes I presume
To liken the sweet savor and perfume.
She, send sweet breathed love into your breast,
She, blest with fruitful issue, make you blest.
Lastly, let heavenly crowns these crowns succeed,
Sent sure to both, to neither sent with speed.

OF THE PICTURE.

The blessed virgin's picture first hath place,
To whom thus Gabriel saith, hail full of grace!
Next, she her cousin visits, at whose voice
The babe unborn did sensibly rejoice.
Thirdly, is Christ born of a maid unstained,
And mother true a virgin true remained.
Fourthly, he's circumcised by Jews' decree,
Those laws that no man ere fulfilled but he.
Moses, Elias, met him, after that
Which sight made Peter speak he knew not what.
Then followth th' agony and bloody sweat;
Feeling the burden of our sins so great.
Seventhly, for spite of clothes he was bestripped,
And, loving us, for us he then was whipped.
Then put they on his head a crown of thorns,
Themselves much fitter subjects for such scorns.
They forced him, in sight of lewd beholders,
To carry his own cross on his own shoulders:
They hanged him on each side a malefactor,
But he to th' one did prove a benefactor:
At three days' end he brought to full subjection.
Both hell and death, and taught us resurrection.
Then plain in sight he did to heaven ascend,
And will return a judge this age to end.
Then was the comforter to come discerned,
And men spake with the tongues they never learned.
And after all these things, it is presumed
The blessed virgin was to heaven assumed.
God grant me, when my life hath run the race,
To say to her, with saints, Hail full of grace!

THE FAREWELL TO HIS MUSE.
SWEET wanton Muse, that, in my greatest grief,
Wast wont to bring me solace and relief.
Wonted by sea and land to make me sport,
Whether to camp or court I did resort:
That at the plough hast been my welcome guest,
Yea to my wedlock bed hast boldly pressed;
At Eton now (where first we met) I leave thee,
Here shall my son and heir of me receive thee.
Now to more serious thoughts my soul aspires,
This age, this mind, a Muse austere requires.
Now for those feigned joys true joys do spring,
When I salute my sovereign lord and king.
Now we may tell plain truth to all that ask,
Our love may walk bare-faced without a mask.
My future age to realm and king I vow,
I may no time for wanton toys allow.
Ever I wish, and only, him to serve,
Only his love ever I would deserve.
If he be pleased war to proclaim with Spain,
With such a prince I'll follow wars again.
If his great wisdom th' ancient peace renews,
How fain of peace,would I report the news.
List he give laws to th' Irish, now well tamed,
I could give sound advices, and unblamed.
To build some stately house is his intention,
Ah, in this kind I had too much invention!
Will he suppress those that the land oppress,
A foe to them, myself I still profess.
List he to write or study sacred writ;
To hear, read, learn, my breeding made me fit.
What he commands, I'll act without excuse,
That's full resolved: farewell, sweet wanton Muse!

THE WELCOME TO THE KING.

COME triumph, enter church, court, city, town,
Here James the sixth, now James the first, proclaimed,
See how all hearts are healed, that erst were maimed,
The peer is pleased, the knight, the clerk, the clown.<156>
The mark at which the malcontent had aimed,
Is missed; succession 'stablished in the crown,
Joy protestant, papist be now reclaimed.
Leave, puritan, your supercilious frown,
Join voice, heart, hand, all discord be disclaimed.
Be all one flock, by one great shepherd guided:
No foreign wolf can force a fold so fenced,
God for his house a Steward hath provided
Right to dispose what erst was wrong dispensed,
But with a loyal love and long prepensed,
With all, yet more than all, rejoice do I,
To construe I am—es primus et non vi.<157>

(Authentic Copy<158> from the original in the University Library,
Edinburgh, March 26, 1802, J. LEYDEN.)



KING JAMES TO SIR JOHN HARINGTON;
in return for his New Year's gift.

To our trusty and well-beloved 

John Harington, Knight.

Right trusty and well-beloved friend, we greet you heartily well. We
have received your lantern, with the poesy you send us by our
servant William Hunter, giving you hearty thanks; as likewise for
your last letter, when we perceive the continuanc of your loyal
affection to us and your service: we shall not be unmindful to
extend our princely favour hereafter to you and your particulars, at
all good occasions. We commit you to God.

JAMES R.

From our court at Holyrood House,

April the third, 1603.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO LORD THOMAS HOWARD, 1603
Persevering in his endeavours to obtain courtly favour, with
resolutions of studious labour and actve integrity, which ill accord
with his pursuits.

My Lord,<159>

Touching our matters here, and what hath fallen out since you
departed, may perchance not be unpleasant to you to hear. Many have
been the madcaps rejoicing at our new King's coming, and who (in
good troth) dared not have set forth their good affection to him a
month or two ago: but, alas! what availeth truth, when profit is in
quest? You were true and leige bondsman to her late Highness, and
felt her sweet bounties in full force and good favour. Nor did I my
poor self unexperience her love and kindness on many occasions; but
I cannot forbear remembering my dread at her frowns in the Irish
affair, when I followed my general (and what should a captain do
better?) to England a little before his time. If Essex had met his
"appointed time" (as David saith) to die, it had fared better, than
to meet his folly and his fate too.

But enough of old tales; a new King will have new soldiers, and God
knoweth what men they will be. One saith he will serve him by day,
another by night; the women (who love to talk as they like) are for
serving him both day and night. It pleaseth me to think I am not
under their command, who offer so bountifully what perchance they
would be glad to receive at others' hands: but I am a cripple, and
not made for sports in new courts. Sir Robert Cary<160> was prime in
his Scottish intelligence of the Queen's death. Some will say that
bad tidings travel fast; but I may call Sir Robert's no ill burden
to Edinburgh.—St. Paul hath said, that "the race is not alway given
to the swift:"—I doubt Sir Robert will give the Saint the lie, for
he is like to get both race and prize, and (as fame goeth) creepeth
not a little into favour.

I am now setting forth for the country, where I will read Petrarch,
Ariosto, Horace, and such wise ones. I will make verses on the
maidens, and give my wine to the masters; but it shall be such as I
do love, and do love me. I do much delight to meet my good friends,
and discourse of getting rid of our foes. Each night do I spend, or
much better part thereof, in council with the ancient examples of
learning; I con over their histories, their poetry, their
instructions, and thence glean my own proper conduct in matters both
of merriment or discretion; otherwise, my good Lord, I ne'er had
overcome the rugged paths of Ariosto, nor won the high palm of
glory, which you brought unto me, (I venture to say it) namely, our
late Queen's approbation, esteem, and reward. How my poetry may be
relished in time to come, I will not hazard to say. Thus much I have
lived to see, and (in good sooth) feel too, that honest prose will
never better a man's purse at court; and, had not my fortune been in
terra firma, I might, even for my verses, have danced barefoot with
Clio and her school-fellows until I did sweat, and then have gotten
nothing, to slake my thirst, but a pitcher of Helicon's well. E'en
let the beardless god Apollo dip his own chin in such drink; a hair
of my face shall have better entertainment.

I have made some friends to further my suit of favour with the King,
and hope you will not be slack in forwarding my being noticed in
proper season: but, my good Lord, I will walk fair, though a
cripple; I will copy no man's steps so close as to tread on his
heel; if I go at all, it shall be verily uprightly, and shall better
myself in thus saying, Sequar—sed passibus aequis.<161>—Now, my
Lord, farewell and trust his word who ventureth to honour himself in
the name of

Your friend,

JOHN HARINGTON.

When you can fairly get occasion, I entreat a word touching your
doings at Court. I will point out to you a special conveyance, for,
in these times, discretion must stand at our doors, and even at our
lips too. Good caution never cometh better, than when a man is
climbing; it is a pitiful thing to set a wrong foot, and, instead of
raising one's head, to fall to the ground and show one's baser
parts.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO BISHOP STILL, 1603
Lamenting that Tyrone was brought to England, and treated
courteously, after all he had unsergone in assisting to subdue him.
Raleigh highly estimated, and the perils of a courtier's life
forcibly set forth.

My Worthy Lord.<162>

I have lived to see that damnable rebel Tyrone brought to England,
courteously favoured, honoured, and well liked. Oh! my Lord, what is
there which doth not prove the inconstancy of wordly matters! How
did I labour after that knave's destruction! I was called from my
home by her Majesty's command, adventured perils by sea and land,
endured toil, was near starving, eat horse-flesh at Munster; and all
to quell that man, who now smileth in peace at those that did hazard
their lives to destroy him. Essex took me to Ireland; I had scant
time to put on my boots; I followed with good will, and did return
with the Lord Lieutenant to meet ill will; I did bear the frowns of
her that sent me; and, were it not for her good liking, rather than
my good deservings, I had been sore discountenanced indeed. I obeyed
in going with the Earl to Ireland, and I obeyed in coming with him
to England. But what did I encounter thereon? Not his wrath, but my
gracious Sovereign's ill humour. What did I advantage? Why, truly, a
knighthood; which had been better bestowed by her that sent me, and
better spared by him that gave it. I shall never put out of
remembrance her Majesty's displeasure:—I entered her chamber, but
she frowned and said, "What, did the fool bring you too? Go back to
your business." In sooth, these words did sore hurt him who never
heard such before; but heaven gave me more comfort in a day or two
after; her Majesty did please to ask me concerning our northern
journeys, and I did so well quit me of the account, that she
favoured me with such discourse that the Earl himself had been well
glad of. And now doth Tyrone dare us old commanders with his
presence and protection.

I doubt not but some state business is well nigh begun, or to be
made out; but these matters pertain not to me now. I much fear for
my good Lord Grey and Raleigh. I hear the plot was well nigh
accomplished to disturb our peace and favour Arabella Stuart, the
Prince's cousin. The Spaniards bear no good will to Raleigh, and I
doubt if some of the English have much better affection toward him;
God deliver me from these designs. I have spoken with Carew<163>
concerning the matter; he thinkth ill of certain people whom I know,
and wisheth he could gain knowledge and further inspection hereof,
touching those who betrayed this business. Cecil doth bear no love
to Raleigh, as you well understand in the matter of Essex. I wist
not that he hath evil design, in point of faith or religion. As he
hath oft discoursed to me with much learning, wisdom, and freedom, I
know he doth somewhat differ in opinion from some others; but I
think also his heart is well fixed in every honest thing, as far as
I can look into him. He seemeth wonderously fitted, both by art and
nature, to serve the state, especially as he is versed in foreign
matters, his skill therein being always estimable and praiseworthy.
In religion, he hath shown (in private talk) great depth and good
reading, as I once experienced at his own house, before many learned
men. In good troth, I pity his state, and doubt the dice not fairly
thrown, if his life be the losing stake: but hereof enough, as it
becometh not a poor country knight to look from the plough-handle
into policy and privacy. I thank Heaven, I have been well nigh
driven heretofore into narrow straits, amongst state rocks and
sightless dangers; but if I have gained little profit and not much
honour, I have not adventured so far as to be quite sunken herein. I
will leave you all now to sink or swim, as seemeth best to your own
liking; I only swim now in our baths, wherein I feel some benefit
and more delight. My lameness is bettered hereby, and I will shortly
set forward to see what goeth on in the city, and pry safely among
those that trust not me, neither will I trust to them: new princes
beget new laws, and I am too well stricken in years and infirmities
to enter on new courses. God commend and defend your Lordship in all
your undertakings. He that thriveth in a court must put half his
honesty under his bonnet; and many do we know that never part that
commodity at all, and sleep with it all in a bag. I rest your
lordship's true friend,

JOHN HARINGTON.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY,
Enclosing a rental of his estate at Lenton, and beseeching the Earl
to further his suit against Sir John Skinner.

My very good Lord,<164>

I have sent your Lordship the particular rates of Lenton, if your
Lordship will do me the favour to recomend to a good chapman, it
would be a means of my speedy delivery out of this thraldom.<165>

I hope Sr. Griffin Markham and I shall agree friendly, and that he
will learn to know and use his friends.

Now I am to desire your Lordship if ever service and love of any
Markham was acceptable to you; if my long professed duty may presume
to challenge it, to favor us in our bill against Sir John Skinner,
whose fraud, wastefulness, and willfulness, hath been the first
concussion, and is like to be the final ruin of the Markhams'
credit.

Your Lordship promised me to move my Lord Treasurer and my Lord of
Northampton and my Lord Cecil on this behalf. I pray your Lordship
let me add my Lord Chancellor; who may strike the greatest stroke
therein. And so, praying your Lordship's favor that I may speak with
your Lordship if you pass by, I take leave, this xxxjth of March,
1604.

Your Lordship's at command,

JOHN HARINGTON.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO MR. SECRETARY BARLOW,
Giving an account of the entertainment that King James had prepared
for the King of Denmark, which failed, from the intemperance of the
assistants and their royal auditor.

My good Friend,

In compliance with your asking, now shall you accept my poor account
of rich doings. I came here a day or two before the Danish King<166>
came, and from the day he did come until this hour, I have been
well-nigh overwhelmed with carousal and sports of all kinds. The
sports began each day in such manner and such sort, as well nigh
persuaded me of Mahomet's paradise. We had women, and indeed wine
too, of such plenty, as would have astonished each sober beholder.
Our feasts were magnificent, and the two royal guests did most
lovingly embrace each other at table. I think the Dane hath
strangely wrought on our good English nobles; for those, whom I
never could get to taste good liquor, now follow the fashion, and
wallow in beastly delights. The ladies abandon their sobriety, and
are seen to roll about in intoxication. In good sooth, the
parliament did kindly to provide his Majesty so seasonably with
money, for there hath been no lack of good living; shows, sights,
and banquetings, from morn to eve.

One day, a great feast was held, and, after dinner, the
representation of Solomon his Temple and the coming of the Queen of
Sheba was made, or (as I may better say) was meant to have been
made, before their Majesties, by device of the Earl of Salisbury and
others.—But, alas! as all earthly things do fail to poor mortals in
enjoyment, so did prove our presentment hereof. The Lady who did
play the Queen's part, did carry most precious gifts to both their
Majesties; but, forgetting the steps arising to the canopy, overset
her caskets into his Danish Majesty's lap, and fell at his feet,
though I rather think it was in his face. Much was the hurry and
confusion; cloths and napkins were at hand, to make all clean. His
Majesty then got up and would dance with the Queen of Sheba; but he
fell down and humbled himself before her, and was carried to an
inner chamber and laid on a bed of state; which was not a little
defiled with the presents of the Queen which had been bestowed on
his garments; such as wine, cream, jelly, beverage, cakes, spices,
and other good matters. The entertainment and show went forward, and
most of the presenters went backward, or fell down; wine did so
occupy their upper chambers. Now did appear, in rich dress, Hope,
Faith, and Charity: Hope did assay to speak, but wine rendered her
endeavours so feeble that she withdrew, and hoped the King would
excuse her brevity: Faith was then all alone, for I am certain she
was not joined with good works, and left the court in a staggering
condition: Charity came to the King's feet, and seemed to cover the
multitude of sins her sisters had committed; in some sort she made
obeisance and brought gifts, but said she would return home again,
as there was no gift which heaven had not already given his Majesty.
She then returned to Hope and Faith, who were both sick and spewing
in the lower hall. Next came Victory, in bright armour, and
presented a rich sword to the King, who did not accept it, but put
it by with his hand; and, by a strange medley of versification, did
endeavour to make suit to the King. But Victory did not triumph
long; for, after much lamentable utterance, she was led away like a
silly captive, and laid to sleep in the outer steps of the
antechamber. Now did Peace make entry, and strive to get foremost to
the King; but I grieve to tell how great wrath she did discover unto
those of her attendants; and, much contrary to her semblance, most
rudely made war with her olive branch, and laid on the pates of
those who did oppose her coming.

I have much marvalled at these strange pageantries, and they do
bring to my remembrance what passed of this sort in our Queen's
days; of which I was sometime an humble presenter and
assistant:<167> but I ne'er did see such lack of good order,
discretion, and sobriety, as I have now done. I have passed much
time in seeing the royal sports of hunting and hawking, where the
manners were such as made me devise the beasts were pursuing the
sober creation, and not man in quest of exercise or food. I will
now, in good sooth, declare to you, who will not blab, that the
gunpowder fright is got out of all our heads, and we are going on,
hereabouts, as if the devil was contriving every man should blow up
himself, by wild riot, excess, and devastation of time and
temperance. The great ladies do go well-masked, and indeed it be the
only show of their modesty, to conceal their countenance; but,
alack, they meet with such countenance to uphold their strange
doings, that I marvel not at aught that happens. The Lord of the
mansion<168> is overwhelmed in preparations at Theobald's, and doth
marvelously please both Kings, with good meat, good drink, and good
speeches. I do often say (but not aloud.) that the Danes have again
conquered the Britons, for I see no man, or woman either, that can
now command himself or herself. I wish I was at home:—O rus, quando
te aspiciam?<169>—And I will; before the Prince Vaudemont cometh.

I hear the uniting the kingdoms is now at hand;<170> when the
Parliament is held more will be done in this matter. Bacon is to
manage all the affair, as who can better do these state-jobs.

My cousin, Lord Harington of Exton, doth much fatigue himself with
the royal charge of the princess Elizabeth; and, midst all the
foolery of these times, hath much labour to preserve his own wisdom
and sobriety. If you would wish to see how folly doth grow, come up
quickly; otherwise, stay where you are, and meditate on the future
mischiefs of those our posterity, who shall learn the good lessons
and examples held forth in these days. I hope to see you at the
Bath, and see the gambols you can perform in the hot waters, very
speedily; and shall rest your assured friend in all quiet enjoyments
and hearty good affections.

JOHN HARINGTON.

[1606]



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO MR. ROBERT MARKHAM,
Apologising for having shown the journal of the Irish expedition to
queen Elizabeth, whom he delineates with masterly skill, and
portrays with apparent fidelity.

My good cousin,

Herewith you will have my journal with our history, during our march
against the Irish rebels. I did not intend any eyes should have seen
this discourse, but my own children's; yet, alas! it happened
otherwise: for the Queen did so ask, and, I may say, demand my
account, that I could not withhold showing it; and I, even now,
almost tremble to rehearse her Highness' displeasure hereat. She
swore, "by God's Son,<171> we were all idle knaves, and the Lord
Deputy<172> worse, for wasting our time and her commands, in such
wise as my Journal doth write of." I could have told her Highness of
such difficulties, straits, and annoyance, as did not appear therein
to her eyes; nor, I found, could not be brought to her ear; for her
choler did outrun all reason, though I did meet it at a second hand.
For what show she gave at first to my Lord Deputy, at his return,
was far more grievous, as will appear in good time. I marvel to
think what strange humours do conspire to patch up the natures of
some minds. The elements do seem to strive which shall conquer and
rise above the other. In good sooth, our late Queen did enfold them
all together. I bless her memory, for all her goodness to me and my
family; and now will I show you what strange temperament she did
sometime put forth. Her mind was oft-time like the gentle air that
cometh from the westerly point in a summer's morn; 'twas sweet and
refreshing to all around her. Her speech did win all affections, and
her subjects did try to show all love to her commands; for she would
say, "her state did require her to command, what she knew her people
would willingly do from their own love to her." Herein did she show
her wisdom fully: for who did choose to lose her confidence; or who
would withhold a show of love and obedience, when their Sovereign
said it was their own choice, and not her compulsion? Surely she did
play well her tables to gain obedience thus without constraint:
again, she could put forth such alterations, when obedience was
lacking, as left no doubtings whose daughter she was. I say this was
plain on the Lord Deputy's coming home, when I did come into her
presence; she chaffed much, walked fastly to and fro, looked with
discomposure in her visage; and, I remember, she catched my girdle
when I kneeled to her, and swore, "By God's son I am no Queen; that
man is above me—Who gave him command to come here so soon? I did
send him on other business." It was long before more gracious
discourse did fall to my hearing; but I was then put out of my
trouble, and bid "Go home." I did not stay to be bidden twice; if
all the Irish rebels had been at my heels, I should not have had
better speed, for I did now flee from one whom I both loved and
feared too.

Her Highness was wont to soothe her ruffled temper with reading
every morning, when she had been stirred to passion at the council,
or other matters had overthrown her gracious disposition. She did
much admire Seneca's wholesome advisings, when the soul's quiet was
flown away; and I saw much of her translating thereof. By art and
nature together so blended, it was difficult to find her right
humour at any time. Her wisest men and best counsellors were oft
sore troubled to know her will in matters of state: so covertly did
she pass her judgement, as seemed to leave all to their discreet
management; and, when the business did turn to better advantage, she
did most cunningly commit the good issue to her own honour and
understanding; but, when aught fell out contrary to her will and
intent, the council were in great strait to defend their own acting
and not blemish the Queen's good judgment. Herein her wise men did
oft lack more wisdom; and the Lord Treasurer<173> would oft shed a
plenty of tears on any miscarriage, well knowing the difficult part
was not so much to mend the matter itself, as his mistress's humour:
and yet he did most share her favour and good will; and to his
opinion she would oft-time submit her own pleasure in great matters.
She did keep him till late at night, in discoursing alone, and then
call out another at his departure, and try the depth of all around
her sometime. Walsingham<174> had his turn, and each displayed their
wit in private.

On the morrow, every one did come forth in her presence and
discourse at large; and, if any had dissembled with her, or stood
not well to her advisings before, she did not let it go unheeded,
and sometimes not unpunished. Sir Christopher Hatton<175> was wont
to say, "The Queen did fish for men's souls, and had so sweet a
bait, that no one could escape her network." In truth, I am sure her
speech was such, as none could refuse to take delight in, when
frowardness did not stand in the way. I have seen her smile, sooth
with great semblance of good liking to all around, and cause every
one to open his most inward thought to her; when, on a sudden, she
would ponder in private on what had passed, write down all their
opinions, draw them out as occasion required, and sometime disprove
to their faces what had been delivered a month before. Hence she
knew every one's part, and by thus fishing, as Hatton said, she
caught many poor fish, who little knew what snare was laid for them.

I will now tell you more of her Majesty's discretion and wonder-
working to those about her, touching their minds and opinions. She
did oft ask the ladies around her chamber, If they loved to think of
marriage? And the wise ones did conceal well their liking hereto; as
knowing the Queen's judgment in this matter. Sir Matthew Arundel's
fair cousin, not knowing so deeply as her fellows, was asked one day
hereof, and simply said—"she had thought much about marriage, if her
father did consent to the man she loved."—"You seem honest, i'faith,
said the Queen; I will sue for you to your father."—The damsel was
not displeased hereat; and, when Sir Robert <176> came to court, the
Queen asked him hereon, and pressed his consenting, if the match was
discreet. Sir Robert, much astonied at this news, said—"he never
heard his daughter had liking to any man, and wanted to gain
knowledge of her affection; but would give free consent to what was
most pleasing to her Highness' will and advice."—"Then I will do the
rest;" saith the Queen. The Lady was called in, and the Queen told
her father had given his free consent. "Then," replied the lady, "I
shall be happy, and please your Grace."—"So thou shall; but not to
be a fool and marry. I have his consent given to me, and I vow thou
shalt never get it into thy possession: so, go to thy business. I
see thou art a bold one, to own thy foolishness so readily."

I could relate many pleasant tales of her Majesty's outwitting the
wittiest ones; for few knew how to aim their shaft against her
cunning. We did all love her, for she said she loved us, and much
wisdom she showed in this matter. She did well temper herself
towards all at home, and put at variance those abroad; by which
means she had more quiet than her neighbours. I need not praise her
frugality; but I will tell a story that fell out when I was a boy.
She did love rich clothing, but often chid those that bought more
finery than became their state<177>. It happened that Lady M. Howard
was possesed of a rich border, powdered with gold and pearl, and a
velvet suit belonging thereto, which moved many to envy; nor did it
please the Queen, who thought it exceeded her own. One day the Queen
did send privately, and got the lady's rich vesture, which she put
on herself, and came forth the chamber among the ladies; the kirtle
and border was far too short for her Majesty's height; and she asked
every one, "how they liked her new-fancied suit?" At length, she
asked the owner herself, "If it was not made too short and ill-
becoming?" which the poor lady did presently consent to. "Why then,
if it become not me, as being too short, I am minded it shall never
become thee, as being too fine; so it fitteth neither well." This
sharp rebuke abashed the Lady, and she never adorned her herewith
any more. I believe the vestment was laid up till after the Queen's
death.

As I did bear so much love toward her Majesty, I know not well how
to stop my tales of her virtues, and sometimes her faults, for nemo
nascitur sine —,<178> saith the poet; but even her errors did seem
great marks of surprising endowments.—When she smiled, it was a pure
sunshine, that every one did choose to bask in, if they could; but
anon came a storm from a sudden gathering of clouds, and the thunder
fell in wonderous manner on all alike. I never did find greater show
of understanding and learning, than she was blessed with; and
whoever liveth longer than I can, will look back and become laudator
temporis acti.<179> Yet too, will I praise the present times, or I
should be unmindful of many favours received from many hands.

Now will I try to stop, and give your patience a breathing-time from
my history; but the subject of the letter will excuse my tedious
reciting. I write from wonder and affection. I have now passed my
storms, and wish for a quiet harbour to lay up my bark; for I grow
old and infirm. I see few friends, and hope I have no enemies. So
now adieu, good cousin, and read my tale which I penned of our
marches, ambuscades, culverins, and such-like matters, which if it
give you no more pleasure in the reading than it did me in the
enduring, I must think it a sorry tale truly.

I rest your loving cousin,

JOHN HARINGTON.

Send me Petrarch by my man, at his return.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO PRINCE HENRY
Enclosing a poetical character of Bishop Gardiner, and announcing
his Brief View of the State of the Church. 1606.

Most noble and honoured Sir,<180>

I here send by my servant such matter as your Highness did covet to
see, in regard to Bishop Gardiner of Winchester, which I shall
sometime more largely treat of, and lay at your feet.<181> I may
truly say, this prelate did persecute me before I was born; for my
father was by his command imprisoned in the Tower for eleven months,
for only carrying a letter to the Princess Elizabeth; and my mother
was taken from her presence, and obliged to dwell with Mr. Topelift
as an heretic. My poor father did send many petitions to the Bishop,
but in vain, as he expended one thousand pounds to get his liberty.
Nor had they any comfort but their consciences to beguile this
affliction, and the sweet words and sweeter deeds of their mistress
and fellow prisoner. But, not to rail only, I will inform your
Highness what old Sir Matthew Arundel was wont to say, touching
these times—"that Bonner was more to blame than Gardiner, who used
to call him ass, and other scurvy names, for dealing so cruelly by
honest men." I was moved to say so much against this judgment, that
Sir Matthew said, my father ought to have lain in prison much
longer, for sending such a saucy sonnet to Gardiner: in truth it was
not over-civil, but after fair words ill taken, such deeds are not
foul; and, considering those unrefined times, the poetry<182> is not
badly conceived; as your Highness may judge in clue season, when I
bring it before you, and here have sent no ill written letter to beg
mercy of the Bishop; of which my father gave me copies, with many
others in his own justification. In bumble consideration of your
Highness favour and countenance,

I remain, to all command,

JOHN HARINGTON.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO SIR AMIAS PAWLET,
Representing his interview and conversation with King James, in
which the Monarch is drawn to life. 1606

My loving cousin,<183>

It behoveth me now to recite my journal, respecting my gracious
command of my Sovereign Prince, to come to his closet; which matter
as you so well and urgently desire to hear of, I shall, in suchwise
as suiteth mine best ability, relate unto you, and is as followeth.—
When I came to the presence-chamber, and had gotten good place to
see the lordly attendants, and bowed my knee to the Prince; I was
ordered by a special messenger, and that in secret sort, to wait a
while in an outward chamber, whence, in near an hour waiting, the
same knave led me up a passage and so to a small room, where was
good order of paper, ink, and pens, put on a board for the Prince's
use. Soon upon this, His Highness did enter, and in much good humour
asked, "If I was cousin to Lord Harington of Exton?" I humbly
replied,—"His Majesty did me some honour in enquiring my kin to one
whom he had so late honoured and made a baron;" and moreover did
add, "we were both branches of the same tree." Then he enquired much
of learning, and showed me his own in such sort, as made me remember
my examiner at Cambridge aforetime. He sought much to know my
advances in philosophy, and uttered profound sentences of Aristotle,
and such-like writers, which I had never read, and which some are
bold enough to say, others do not understand: but this I must pass
by.

The Prince did now press my reading to him part of a canto in
Ariosto; praised my utterance, and said he had been informed of
many, as to my learning, in the time of the. Queen. He asked me
"what I thought pure wit was made of; and whom it did best become?
Whether a King should not be, the best clerk in his own country;
and, if this land did not entertain good opinion of his learning and
good wisdom?"<183> His Majesty did much press for my opinion
touching the power of Satan in matter of witchcraft; and asked me,
with much gravity,—"If I did truly understand, why the devil did
work more with ancient women than others?". I did not refrain from a
scurvy jest, and even said (notwithstanding to whom it was said)
that—"we were taught hereof in scripture, where it is told, that the
devil walketh in dry places." His Majesty, moreover, was pleased to
say much, and favouredly, of my good report for mirth and good
conceit: to which I did covertly answer; as not willing a subject
should be wiser than his Prince, nor even appear so.

More serious discourse did next ensue, wherein I wanted room to
continue, and sometime room to escape; for the Queen his mother<184>
was not forgotten, nor Davison<185> neither. His Highness told me
her death was visible in Scotland before it did really happen,
being, as he said, "spoken of in secret by those whose power of
sight<186> presented to them a bloody head dancing in the air." He
then did remark much on this gift, and said he had sought out of
certain books a sure way to attain knowledge of future chances.
Hereat, he named many books, which I did not know, nor by whom
written; but advised me not to consult some authors which would lead
me to evil consultations. I told his Majesty, "the power of Satan
had, I much feared, damaged my bodily frame; but I had not farther
will to court his friendship, for my soul's hurt."—We next
discoursed somewhat on religion, when at length he said: "Now, Sir,
you have seen my wisdom in some sort, and I have pried into yours. I
pray you, do me justice in your report, and in good season, I will
not fail to add to your understanding, in such points as I may find
you lack amendment." I made courtesy hereat, and withdrew down the
passage, and out at the gate, amidst the many varlets and lordly
servants who stood around.

Thus, you have the history of your neighbour's high chance and
entertainment at court; more of which matter, when I come home to my
own dwelling, and talk these affairs in a corner. I must press to
silence hereon, as otherwise all is undone. I did forget to tell,
that his Majesty much asked concerning my opinion of the new weed
tobacco, and said "it would, by its use, infuse ill qualities on the
brain, and that no learned man ought to taste it, and wished it
forbidden." I will now forbear further exercise of your time, as Sir
Robert's man waiteth for my letter to bear to you, from

Your old neighbour,

friend, and cousin,

JOHN HARINGTON.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO MR. SUTTON, FOUNDER OF THE CHARTERHOUSE
SCHOOL.
Expressing his anxiety about a rumour which had gone abroad, that
Sir John had been often tampering with Mr. Sutton to make the Duke
of York his heir, in order to procure the honour of a barony.


Sir,<187>

Your strange message, first by my man, after by my son, now seconded
with your speech to myself, did greatly trouble me. That I have
undone you, overthrown your estate, disturbed your designs: that no
man dare buy any land of you, be your feoffee, nor take any trust
from you; so as that which you had ordained to good uses, and to
redeem your sins, was now so encumbered, as you were scant master of
your own; and all by means of a bruit<188> among your friends,
raised as you supposed by me, "That you have made Duke Charles your
heir, and the King your executor."

Far be it from me to abuse, or misreport either so princely and
pious an intention as I know his Majesty hath to further all good
works; or so godly a purpose, as you intend to do some; but "God
cannot be mocked," though we may dissemble with men. The letter is
still extant which was my warrant. I have spoken nothing but within
compass of that, and that very sparingly to your private friends; in
which letter seeing you yourself would needs in your sense read a
caveat to refuse honour because of age; which, in my construction,
was an encouragement to take the honour due to your abilities and
years; I have been since, and will be silent about it.—For the
suit<189> you would make to his Majesty, (which I will not so much
as guess at,) I will say what I think: you will make no suit; but
such as will find favour and expedition; and, seeing you suppose I
wronged you before, I would be glad to make you amends now by any
endeavour of mine. Only, my old friend, you may not forget to be a
benefactor to Bath church in your lifetime; for alms, in one's life,
is like a light borne before one, whereas alms after death is like a
candle carried behind one.

Do somewhat for this church; you promised to have seen it ere this;
whensoever you will go to Bath, my lodgings shall be at your
commandment: the baths would strengthen your sinews, the alms would
comfort your soul.

The tower, the choir, and two aisles, are all ready finished by Mr.
Billett,<190> executor to the worthy Lord Treasurer Burleigh: the
walls are up ready for covering.

The lead is promised by our bountiful bishop, Dr. Montague; timber
is promised by the Earl of Shrewsbury, the Earl of Hartford, the
Lord Say, Mr. Robert Hopton, and others.

There lacks but money for workmanship, which if you would give, you
should have many good prayers in the church now in your lifetime,
when they may indeed do you good, and when the time is to "make
friends of the mammon of iniquity, (as Christ bids us,) that we may
be received into everlasting tabernacles;" to which God send us, to
whose protection I leave you, &c.

JOHN HARINGTON,

From Greenwich this

13th of June, 1608.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO PRINCE HENRY, SON TO KING JAMES I,
Detailing the merits and extraordinary sagacity of his dog Bungey.


May it please your Highness to accept in as good sort what I now
offer, as hath been done aforetime; and I may say, i pede
fausto:<191> but, having good reason to think your Highness had good
will and liking to read what others have told of my rare dog, I will
even give a brief history of his good deeds and strange feats; and
herein will I not play the cur myself, but in good sooth relate what
is no more nor less than bare verity. Although I mean not to
disparage the deeds of Alexander's horse,<192> will match my dog
against him for good carriage, for, if he did not bear a great
Prince on his back, I am bold to say he did often bear the sweet
words of a greater Princess on his neck.

I did once relate to your Highness after what sort his tackling was
wherewith he did sojourn from my house at the Bath to Greenwich
Palace, and deliver up to the court there such matters as were
entrusted to his care. This he hath often done, and came safe to the
Bath, or my house here at Kelston, with goodly returns from such
nobility as were pleased to employ him; nor was it ever told our
Lady Queen, that this messenger did ever blab aught concerning his
high trust, as others have done in more special matters. Neither
must it be forgotten, as how he once was sent with two charges of
sack wine from the Bath to my house, by my man Combe; and on his way
the cordage did slacken; but my trusty bearer did now bear himself
so wisely as to covertly hide one flask in the rushes, and take the
other in his teeth to the house; after which he went forth, and
returned with the other part of his burden to dinner. Hereat your
Highness may perchance marvel and doubt; but we have living
testimony of those who wrought in the fields, and espied his work,
and now live to tell they did much long to play the dog, and give
stowage to the wine themselves; but they did refrain, and watched
the passing of this whole business,

I nced not say how much I did once grieve at missing this dog; for,
on my journey towards London, some idle pastimers did divert
themselves with hunting mallards in a pond, and conveyed him to the
Spanish ambassadors, where (in a happy hour) after six weeks I did
hear of him; but such was the court he did pay to the Don, that he
was no less in good liking there than at home. Nor did the household
listen to my claim, or challenge, till I rested my suit on the dog's
own proofs, and made him perform such feats before the nobles
assembled, as put it past doubt that I was his master. I did send
him to the hall in the time of dinner, and made him bring thence a
pheasant out of the dish, which created much mirth; but much more,
when he returned at my commandment to the table, and put it again in
the same cover. Herewith the company was well content to allow me my
claim, and we both were well content to accept it, and came
homewards. I could dwell more on this matter, but jubes renovare
dolorem:<193> I will now say in what manner he died. As we traveled
towards the Bath, he leaped on my horse's neck, and was more earnest
in fawning and courting my notice, than what I had observed for time
back; and, after my chiding his disturbing my passing forwardes, he
gave me some glances of such affection as moved me to cajole him;
but, alas! he crept suddenly into a thorny brake, and died in a
short time.

Thus I have strove to rehearse such of his deeds as may suggest much
more to your Highness' thought of this dog. But, having said so much
of him in prose, I will say somewhat too in verse, as you may find
hereafter at the close of this history. Now let Ulysses praise his
dog Argus,<194> or Tobit be led by that dog whose name doth not
appear;<195> yet coud I say such things of my Bungey, (for so was he
styled,) as might shame them both, either for good faith, clear wit,
or wonderful deeds; to say no more than I have said, of his bearing
letters to London and Greenwich, more than an hundred miles. As I
doubt not but your Highness would love my dog, if not myself; I have
been thus tedious in his story; and again say, that of all the dogs
near your father's court not one hath more love, more diligence to
please, or less pay for pleasing, than him I write of; for verily a
bone would content my servant, when some expect greater matters, or
will knavishly find out a bone of contention.

I now rest your Highness' friend, in all service that may suit him,

JOHN HARINGTON.

P. S. The verses above spoken of,<196> are in my book of Epigrams in
praise of my dog Bungey to Momus. And I have an excellent picture,
curiously limned,<197> to remain in my posterity.

Kelstone, June 14, 1608.



SIR JOHN HARINGTON TO PRINCE HENRY, 1609,
Communicating, from a book in his grandfather's handwriting,
fragments of wit and poesy, by Henry the Sixth and Eighth, with a
copy of his own Ariosto for which he humbly but earnestly solicits
some special mark of his Highness' approbation.

Most Noble Prince,

It was sometime since your will, that I should send unto you such
scraps and fragments of wit and poesy as I might, from my poor
brain; but as respect is due to crowned heads, and as such should be
honored before clownish heads, I have here sent to your Highness a
pretty verse, made by that unfortunate, and yet in his godliness I
wist, most fortunate King; Henry the Sixth; it hath often caused
much grief to think on the perilous state of that good King, not
forgetting to remark how he framed his life to meet his death. I met
with this verse in a book of my grandfather's writing, whose father
was so much in the troubles and wars of York and Lancaster, as to
lose all his lands for being a commander on the wrong side, and
among the traitors, if so I may say; and yet thus saith a poet:<198>

Treason doth never prosper;—What's the reason?
Why;—if it prosper, none dare call it treason.

But this is not King Henry's verse. My ancestor Sir James Harington
did once take prisoner, with his party, this poor Prince; for which
the House of York did grant him a parcel of lands in the northern
counties, and which he was fool enough to lose again, after the
battle of Bosworth, when King Henry the Seventh came to the crown;
and methinks I feel his folly to this time, for, on forfeiture of
twenty-five rich manors, it was time for our house to travel to
southward, where, if they brought no lands, they found some, from
the goodness of Henry the Eighth.

The verse I did mean to present your Highness with, is as doth now
follow, and well suiteth the temper and condition of him who made
it:

"Kingdoms are but cares;
State is devoid of stay;
Riches are ready snares,
And hasten to decay.

Pleasure is a privy prick
Which vice doth still provoke;
Pomp, unprompt; and fame, a flame;
Power, a smouldering smoke.

Who meaneth to remove the rock
Out of the slimy mud,
Shall mire himself, and hardly 'scape
The swelling of the flood.

So much for poor King Henry's verse; and now take (if your Highness
will excuse it) some of his prose: for I find written under this, in
the same hand, the following sentences; and no doubt they were not
given as his without good credit and grounds:

"Patience is the armour and conquest of the godly: this meriteth
mercy, when causeless is suffered sorrow."

"Naught else is war but fury and madness, wherein is not advice but
rashness; not right but rage, ruleth and reigneth."

HENRY."

And none so truly could speak thus as our poor author, under his
piteous imprisonment, his bloody kingdom, his distressed kindred;
from all which God hath now most marvelously freed and delivered
these realms.

As I have thus given your Highness a short example of royal poetry,
I will not in haste forsake the matter and descend from high to low;
but will now venture to send to your reading a special verse of King
Henry the Eighth, when he conceived love for Anne Boleyn. And hereof
I entertain no doubt of the author; for, if I had no better reason
than the rhyme, it were sufficient to think that no other than such
a Kig could write such a sonnet; but of this my father oft gave me
good assurance, who was in his household.<199> This sonnet was sung
to the lady, at his commandment, and here followeth:—

The eagle's force subdues each bird that flies
What metal can resist the flaming fire?
Doth not the sun dazzle the clearest eyes?
And melt the ice, and make the frost retire?
The hardest stones are pierced through with tools;
The wisest are, with Princes, made but fools.

Thus have I given your Highness another example of royal poetry;
nor, if time did serve, or your time, would permit, should I omit
some prettier verses of our late princess, of blessed remembrance;
but enow at this time.

I have complied with your request, and sent my Ariosto for your
Highness' entertainment, humbly suing for some special mark of your
approbation in return from the hand and head of that Prince who
claimeth the dutiful obeisance and unequalled estimation of

His honoured servant,

JOHN HARINGTON.



A SUPPLEMENT OR ADDITION TO THE CATALOGUE OF BISHOPS, TO THE YEAR
1608, or
A Brief View of the State of the Church of England

This Addition to Bishop Godwin's Catalogue, was printed in 1653,
with the following title prefixed by Dr. Chetwind, the maternal
grandson of Sir J. Harington.
A
BRIEFE VIEW
of the State of the Church
Of ENGLAND,
as it stood in Q. ELIZABETHS
and King JAMES his Reign,
To the Yeere 1608.
Being a Character and History of
The BISHOPS of those Times. And
may serve as an additionall Supply
to DOCTOR GODWIN'S 
Catalogue of Bishops.
WRITTEN
For the private use of Prince Henry, upon
occasion of that Proverb,
Henry the Eighth pull'd down Monks and their Cells,
Henry the Ninth should pull down Bishops and their Bells.
By Sir JOHN HARINGTON,
Of Kelston, near Bath, Knight."



THE OCCASION WHY THIS WORK WAS TAKEN IN HAND.
By Sir John Harington

<200>About the month of August last past, [A. D. 1606] his Majesty
then being at Windsor, a Londoner of honest credit told me how a
preacher in the city had, with more zeal than discretion,
(reprehending the spoilers of the Church, and such as gape for such
spoils) told withal how some lewd<201> person had scattered in
divers places this rhyme:

Henry the 8. pulled down abbeys and cells,
But Henry the 9. shall pull down Bishops and bells.

This most reasonless rhyme, borne away by the vulgar auditors better
perhaps than any part of the text or sermon, hath bred since amongst
divers men divers cogitations. The worst sort of papists, that have
not yet disgested the dissolution of abbeys, (and may perhaps in a
factious policy broach such a bruit<202>) fill men with fear that
all tends to impiety and atheism, as though no man can serve God
that is not a Roman. The giddy puritan, that is most suspected of
the making and meaning of it, is well pleased when he hears it,
hoping their presbytery would rise by the fall of Bishops; their
charity being to quench the fire raised by this schism, non aqua,
sed ruina, "not with water but with ruin," as Tully saith in his
oration pro Murena. The malcontent rejoices to hear of spoil, that
he whom no chance can lightly<203> make worse, some change may
possibly make the better.— But the true Christian, that fears God
and honours the King, doth neither despise such lewd practises and
preparatives to mischief, nor any whit deject his heart and his
hope, either to believe them or give way to them; but rather bestirs
himself the more courageously, to discover the fraud and resist the
malice of the enemy. For this is no new practice of Satan, nor the
first of this kind in these latter times in which he showeth this
cunning; that mixing falsehood with probabillities, and forespeaking
some mischiefs he would effect, as well as foretelling some
blessings he could not hinder; he getteth his disciples such credit
as Agrippa attributes to astrologers, who roving<204> sometimes at
some truth, win fools to give faith to much falsehood.

But to show how stale this goodly prediction is of the ruin of
bishops, though some ill poet hath given it a new coat, the old
vestment made by Piers Plowman<205> being belike worn out of
fashion, it is well known to many yet living how Sir Roger
Manhood,<206> a man nothing superstitious, and concerning all
soothsayers and witches almost incredulous, yet out of some strange
speculation seemed to prognosticate two great matters, the one of
which being allready falsified, makes me no less confident that the
other shall prove as untrue.

His first prognostication (as I call it) was of the great civil wars
that would rise by the uncertainty of succession immediately after
Q. Elizabeth's death, for which cause I have heard he conveyed his
land so as no state of inheritance should remain in any of his heirs
till 5 years after the Queen's death, which was his time limited for
ending this great war, which war lasted not five minutes, for
neither man nor mouse once peeped against her indubitable heir, and
therefore, now his heir may possess his more doubtful inheritance.

His second speculation asketh a more longer time to disprove; but
thus it was. In his lifetime he made a tomb of good value, for
matter as well as workmanship, and showing the same, among others,
to a knight of his country, (Sir Ed. Hobby;<207>) both for wit,
learning, and alliance, of great reputation; he was asked by the
said knight, where it should stand, whether in Paul's, or
Westminster, or Canterbury; he told him, very seriously, he had
given order to set it in a mean parish church: and being asked the
reason, he answered—"because, forsooth, he would be glad to have his
bones lie quiet, as long as he might, but (saith he) you see the
abbey churches are already pulled down, and our wizards tell that
cathedral churches shall be next; the poor parish churches will
stand longest, and therefore there would I lie."—And there you may
lie, and be found a liar in this point even at the day of judgement,
and God deal then as mercifully with you and your man Luker, as our
late Sovereign did, when she told you the story of Cambyses,<208>
and threatened to make you such an example, for some peccadillos of
yours; and your peremptory writing to the Lords of the Council.

Omnes qui sunt male agentes,
Semper currunt ad potentes,
Vivat Rex, currat Lex.<209>

Adieu my Lords.

After all which, she forgave all this; and sent you down your
circuit, not only with safety but with solace.

But now I return to our new prophecies, one of which I have here
expressed, (being afore so famous) the others I will not recite,
lest I may seem to commit the fault I reprove; but the prophets
themselves have ill success, to hazard both their liberties and
lives with their lies. This traitorous and malicious prediction of
Henry the 9th (whom I wish no longer to hold the crown than he can
be content to expect it) comes out of the same forge with the
former, and is now newly furbished by some malcontent (as Sir Thomas
Chaloner,<210> when I first told him of it, did as probably as
prudently conjecture) that wishing evil to the present goverment, in
his false heart, would also, as far as in him lieth, poison the hope
of our children and posterity; a treason so much more odious to all
good minds, by how much the future time is ever more carefully
respected than the present; every good spirit being ready to undergo
hazard, travail, and cost, to leave his posterity in good estate
when he dies, and to die himself in peace, as Horace doth very well
express,

Senes ut in otia tuta recedant.<211>

But when I consider with myself that no less pious than wise and
princely maxim of his Majesty, our Solomon; No bishops, no king: to
I dare be bold to ad, this; No king, no nobility or gentry:—I
conceive, with extreme detestation, what a horrible confusion they
intend to bring upon us, that now breathe out to us their prophecies
of pulling down bishops.

This made me bold first to recommend to the noble Prince, (with the
privity of his discreet and virtuous tutor, Mr. Newton, Dean of
Durham,<212>) this well approved work<213> of Dr. Francis Godwin,
now Bishop of Llandaff; a work so well esteemed by our late
Sovereign, as in reward thereof she made himself a bishop. Then,
with small entreaty, I undertook to add this SUPPLEMENT unto it of
the late times, with as much fidelity and perspicuity, and as little
partiality, as possibly I could; which though I think fit to be seen
of few, yet I wish it may be perused by his Highness; and hope, in
some respects, it will be thought not unworthy of his reading. For,
in reading of both, he shall plainly see, that Christian religion
was first planted by bishops, that it hath been preserved and
continued with bishops, and that it will fall and decay without
bishops; as in some other treatise I will, God willing, more prove.

But now if any one should ask, why such a man as I should busy
myself so earnestly in a cause that concerns so many and so learned
men; all much better able to defend themselves, and all more
properly or at least more deeply interested in the same?—I answer,
that the less I am interested in it, the better I may be credited.
As I have observed sometime how in a camp, when for lack of pay, or 
some other distress, the soldiers are ready to mutiny against their
captains, or the general himself; a corporal, or a gentleman of a
band, doth prevail more many times to pacify their minds, than the
captains themselves, against whom they be chiefly exasperate: so in
this spiritual mutiny against bishops, by many inferior soldiers of
the militant church, that having glutted themselves with manna,
murmur against Moses and Aron; it may be my persuasion (though
neither so eloquent nor vehement as some of them could use in their
own cause) may prevail more with those of my sort, and be less
suspected of passion or partiality, esteeming myself for this
purpose, as Tully said of himself, non electus ex multis qui maximo
judicio, sed relictus ex omnibus qui minimo periculo possim dicere:
"not as a choice man among the best, that can speak with most
judgment, but as one left among the meanest, which may discourse
with least danger." In which kind, if I use more freedom of speech
than ordinary, either of the dead or of the living, let me not be
deemed either malicious or audacious; having learned of the same
author, Qui vere et libere loquitur, hunc male non loqui: "a true
and free speaker is no evil speaker." And if any find fault that my
relations fall short in many places of their merits of whom I speak,
and in some points may seem but uncertain; I must be borne with
therein, as they that report battles fought, at which themselves
were present: who though they could not from any one place see all
the feats of arms, and defeats, that they write of; yet telling part
of that he saw and felt, as Aeneas doth, quorum pars una fui;<214>
and gathering part by the sequel, and some by other men's report, or
the enemies' confession, is supposed to write a true history.

Lastly, for all such as seem daunted and dismayed with these
fond<215> predictions, I wish them to be of good comfort, and to
assure themselves that it is impossible a Prince descended of such
ancestors, so virtuously brought up, so devoutly and sweetly
inclined, by nature and nurture; whose father with incomparable
wisdom and piety hath new erected 14 bishoprics decayed, and (which
is an augurium<216> against this wicked prediction) turned a broken
cannon in Scotland to a bell, should so strangely degenerate in
England, to pull down 24 bishoprics so long since and so firmly
established; and to profane bells, ordained for the sound of joy,
and honour of Christian peace, to make of them cannons, the
thunderers of ruins and horror of Turkish wars.



ARCHBISHOPS OF CANTERBURY:
Doctor Matthew Parker.

<217>When I consider with myself the hard beginning, though more
prosperous success of the reformed Church of England, methinks it
may be compared to a battle fought, in which some captains and
soldiers, that gave the first charge, either died in the field, or
came bleeding home; but such as followed, putting their enemies to
flight, remained quiet and victorious. Or I may more fitly (without
offence) liken it to the success of them of the primitive church,
wherein the apostles and their immediate successors, were one while
honoured and magnified by their followers the Christians; as St.
Peter, at whose feet the believers laid all their goods; and St.
Paul, who was received as an angel of God; another while tormented,
and persecuted, by Jews and Heathen; as the same apostles, whipped
by Jews; hanged and headed by the Romans; sometimes, I say, a
centurion, a lieutenant, a proconsul, favouring them; straight a
priest, a scribe, and a lawyer, promoting against them: a few of
Caesar's houshold willing well unto them, and believing them; but
the Caesars themselves for three hundred years (except a very few)
detesting and suppressing them. For in such sort Cranmer, Ridley,
Latimer, Hooper, Rogers, Coverdale, and many others, induring great
conflicts in those variable times of Henry the Eighth, King Edward,
and Queen Mary, suffering by fire, by imprisonment, banishment, loss
and deprivation, with many fights, many flights, and many flights,
for their conscience' sake; those that died, had the glory of
valiant soldiers, and worthy martyrs; such as survived, have since
in a long and happy peace, enjoyed the comfort of the victory, and
are like still to hold it, if some mutinous soldiers of their own
camp, do not by disturbing the peace at home, give heart to the
enemy abroad. Among the survivors of these first leaders, that
passed so many pikes, the first in time, and the highest in place,
was Dr. Matthew Parker, who, (as by this <218> author is noted)
having lost all his livings for his marriage,<219> now being made
Archbishop of Canterbury, dissembled not his marriage, as Crammer in
King Henry the Eighth's time, was forced to do; which, because some
have taken occasion to note with too black ink, to exclude him from
the reputation of a rubricated martyr; and have cited the testimony
of his son's widow, yet living, that she was carried in a trunk, and
by misfortune almost stifled, by being set by an ignorant porter
with her head downward; (which talk goes very current among Papists)
I can truly affirm that this is a mere fiction, for I have examined
the gentlewoman herself (being of kin to my wife, and a Rogers by
name) and she hath sworn to me, she never reported, nor ever herself
heard, of any such misfortune.

But now though this Archbishop (Parker) dissembled not his marriage,
yet Q. Elizabeth would not dissemble her dislike of it. For whereas
it pleased her often to come to his house, in respect of her favour
to him that had been her mother's chaplain, being once above the
rest greatly feasted; at her parting from thence, the archbishop and
his wife being together, she gave him very special thanks, with
gratious and honourable tearms, and then looking on his wife; "and
you, (saith she) Madam I may not call you, and Mistress I am ashamed
to call you, so I know not what to call you, but yet I do thank
you."

It is true, she misliked marriage in bishops, and was not very
forward to allow it in some of the laity; for I knew one of good
place about her, that had contracted himself to a rich widow, yet
would not adventure to marry her, till he had gotten the Queen to
write for that which he had obtained before, to the intent that the
Queen, reputing it as her benefit, might not dislike with her own
act. But for clergymen, ceteris paribus,<220> (and sometime
imparibus too,) she preferred the single man afore the married.



ARCHBISHOPS OF CANTERBURY:
Doctor Edmond Grindal.

<221> Of Mr. Edmond Grindal, whereas my author writes he was blind,
I have heard by those that knew somewhat in those days, that he kept
his house upon a strange occasion, the secret whereof is known to
few, and the certainty is not easy to find out; but thus I was told
it.

There was an Italian Doctor (as I take it, of Physic) that having a
known wife alive, yet bearing himself on the countenance of some
great lord, <222> did marry another gentlewoman, (which to do now,
is by his Majesty's most godly laws made felony.) This good
archbishop, (not winking at so public a scandal,) convented him for
it, and proceeded by ecclesiastical censures against him. Letters
were presently written from this great lord to the archbishop, to
stay the proceeding, to tolerate, to dispense, or to mitigate the
censure; but the bishop remained still unmoved and unmoveable. When
no subject's entreaty could be found to prevail, they entreat the
sovereign to write in the doctor's behalf; but this John Baptist not
only persisted in his non licet habere eam,<223> but also in a
reverent fashion, required an account of her Majesty's faith, in
that she would seem to write in a matter that (if she were truly
informed) was expressly against the word of God. The Queen in a
gracious disposition was purposed to have yielded an account in
writing; but the great lord not only dissuaded her from it, as too
great an indignity, but incensed her exceedingly against him;
whereupon, he was privately commanded to keep his house; where
bycause he was sometime troubled with sore eyes, his friends gave
out he was blind. But if he were blind, it was like to the
soothsayer Tiresias that foresaw and foretold Pentheus' ruin, as
Ovid writes,

Eveniet, (neque enim dignabere numen honore:)
Meque sub his tenebris nimium vidisse quereris.<224>

For that lord, that so persecuted this prelate about his physician's
two wives, dying twenty years since, left two wives behind him,
<225> that can hardly be yet agreed which was his lawful wife. And
so much for Archbishop Grindal.



ARCHBISHOPS OF CANTERBURY:
Doctor John Whitegift.

Upon the decease of Archbishop Grindal, (the state desirous to have
a learned and discreet person, in so eminent a place, and the Queen
resolved to admit none but a single man;) choice was made of Doctor
Whitegift,<226> then Bishop of Worcester, a man in many respects
very happy, and in the best judgements very worthy. He was noted for
a man of great learning in Cambridge, and he was grown to his full
ripeness of reading and judgement, even then, when those that they
called Puritans (and some merely define to be Protestants scared out
of their wits) did begin, not by the plot of some great ones, but by
the pen of Mr. Cartwright,<227> to defend their new discipline:
their endeavour (as was pretended) was to reduce all, in show at
least, to the purity, but indeed to the poverty, of the primitive
church.

These books of Mr. Cartwright, not unlearnedly written, were more
learnedly answered by Doctor Whitegift. Both had their reward: for
Mr. Cartwright, was by private favour placed about Coventry, where
he grew rich, and had great maintenance to live on, and honoured as
a patriarch, by many of that profession. Doctor Whitegift was made
Bishop of Worcester, and there having a great good report of
houskeeping, and governing the marches of Wales, he was (as my
author<218> hath told,) called unto Canterbury.

While he was Bishop of Worcester, though the revenue of it be not
very great, yet his custom was to come to the Parliament very well
attended, which was a fashion the Queen liked exceeding well. It
happened one day, Bishop Elmer, of London, meeting this Bishop with
such an orderly troop of Tawny Coats,<28> demanded of him, "How he
could keep so many men?" he answered, "It was by reason, he kept so
few women."

Being made Archbishop of Canterbury, and of the Privy Council, he
carried himself in that mild and charitable course, that he was not
only greatly approved by all the clergy of England, but even by some
of those, whom with his pen he might seem to have wounded; I mean
the Puritans, of whom he won divers, by sweet persuasions to
conformity.

In the Star Chamber, he used to deliver his sentence in a good
fashion, ever leaning to the milder censure as best became his
calling.

He was a great stay in court and council, to all oppressions of the
church, though that current was sometime so violent, as one man's
force could not stop it.

He founded an hospital in or nigh Croydon, and placed poor men
therein, in his own lifetime, and being grown to a full age, that he
might say with St. Paul, bonum certamen certavi, cursum confeci,
&c.<229> he was so happy, as to give to his sovereign and preferrer,
the last spiritual comfort she took in this world, (I hope to her
eternal comfort.) And after that, he not only joined with the other
lords, for the proclaiming of King James, but on Saint James' day
following, did set the crown on his head, and anointed him with the
holy oil. And so having first seen the church setled under a
religious king, and the crown established in a hopeful succession,
he fell into a palsy, (to which he had been formerly subject,) and
with no long or painful sickness, he yieldeth to nature, deserving
well this epitaph, written by a young scholar of Oxford that was
with me at the writing thereof.
Candida dona tibi Whitegift, sunt nomen et omen,
Candidiora tuis munera nemo dedit:
Nomen habes niveo inscriptum nuncs ergo lapillo,
Aut stola, pro meritis redditur alba tuis.<230>



ARCHBISOPS OF CANTERBURY:
Doctor Richard Bancroft.

<231>Upon the death of Archbishop Whitegift, divers worthy men were
named in the vacancy. His Majesty, not (after the manner of some
princes,) seeking to keep it vacant, but rather lusting to fill it.
The Bishops of Durham and Winchester were, as it were, voce
populi,<232> made competitors with the bishop of London, rather by
their eminency of merit and learning, than by any known desire, or
endeavour of them or their friends. Wherein methinks, by the way,
envy itself cannot but gratulate the Church of England, that is so
furnished with learned bishops, that if choice had been to be made,
not by a judicious prince, but by the fortune of a lot among those
three, and many more beside, it could not have fallen amiss.

But his Majesty had long since understanding of his writing against
the genevising and scotising<233> ministers; and though some
imagined he had therein given the King some distaste, yet finding
him, in the disputations at Hampton Court, both learned and stout,
he did more and more increase his liking to him. So that although in
the common rumour, Toby Matthew then bishop of Durham, was likest to
have carried it; so learned a man, and so assiduous a preacher, qui
in concionibus dominatur,<234> as his emulous and enemy wrote of
him; yet his Majesty, in his learning, knowing, and in his wisdom,
weighing, that this same strict charge pasce oves meos "feed my
sheep," requires as well a pastoral courage of driving in the stray
sheep, and driving out the infectious, as of feeding the sound, made
special choice of the bishop of London, as a man more exercised in
affairs of the state. I will add also mine own conjecture out of
some of his Majesty's own speeches, that in respect he was a single
man, he supposed him the fitter, according to Queen Elizabeth's
principles of state; upon whose wise foundations, his Majesty doth
daily erect more glorious buildings.

But I lose labour to repeat these things, to your Highness<235>
better known than to myself. I should only speak of the former
times.

Of his beginning, therefore, and rising, I will boldly say that,
which I would I might as truly of all that follow in this treatise,
viz. that he came to all his preferments very clearly, without
prejudice or spoil of his churches.

He was tutor in Cambridge, to the Lord Cromwell,<236> who had cause
to wish, and (as I have heard) hath wished, he had stayed with him
longer, though he were sharp and austere. My Lord Chancellor Hatton
made special choice of him, to be his examiner.

Est aliquid, de tot Graiorum millibus, unum
A Diomede legi.<237>

By his means Queen Elizabeth came to take knowledge of his wisdom
and sufficiency. He both wrote, as I touched before, and laboured
earnestly by all good means, for the suppressing of the fantastical
novelists,<238> after the strange and frantic attempt of Hacket and
his fellows.<239>

Which practice, though the branches thereof were easily cut off, yet
was it thought to have a more dangerous and secret root.

But for these his travails, as the Queen and state favored him, so
these "seditious sectaries," (to use Judge Popham's<240> word, that
would not have them called puritans) they, I say, no lease maligned
him in libels and rhymes, for they were void of reasons, laying the
imputation of papistry unto him; and some of these were punished in
the Star-chamber; namely, one Darling, the last Star-chamber day in
Queen Elizabeth's time, was sharply censured. And it is no wonder,
if they loved him not, for indeed he had stoutly opposed their
chiefest darlings.

As for the imputation of papistry, which they lay on all men that
cross their designs, he is so free from it, that I can truly affirm,
the greatest blow the papists received in all Q. Elizabeth's time,
came from his hand, or at least from his head: for having wisely
observed the emulation, and ambition, and envy, that lurked in the
minds of their secular priests, and the Jesuits, one against
another, he found the means, by the same policy, and with the like
spirit, that St. Paul set the Pharisees against the Sadducees, to
set the priests against the Jesuits, Watson<241> against Parsons,
(impar congressus)<242> but yet thereby he so divided their
languages, as scantly they can understand one another as yet.

These things acted, before the King your father's happy entry, I
thought good to touch, though more sparingly than my particular
affection and his just deserts do give me occasion.—Of his late
employments, of his great care in setting forward and setting forth
all his Majesty's godly proceedings, though I know much, yet if I
should say all I know, perhaps it is less than your Highness knows;
therefore I will conclude with that, which the truth rather than my
kindeness enforceth me to say,—that no bishop, since I can remember,
hath been counted more vigilant in looking to his charge, ne quid
Ecclesia detrimenti capiat.<243>



BISHOPS OF LONDON:
Doctor John Elmer.

<244>My purpose in this work from the beginning, and my promise to
your Highness, being to add to this author,<218> a supplement of
some matters that he purposely omitted writing in the latter years
of Q. Elizabeth; and my resolution being to write plainly, without
fear or favor of those I do write, I will proceed confidently, as I
have begun; in which, I persuade myself I have some advantage of the
author himself, for freedom of speech, both in the time, and many
other circumstances:—for he was no fool that gave that rule,

—Mitissima sors est
Regnorum, sub rege novo.
Lucan.<245>


Again, I being a layman, am not so obnoxious to their reprehensions,
that may be offended with that I shall say, as he was, being a
churchman.

Thirdly, I lived in the place, where I might know many things
without enquiry, which had been scarce safe for him, in that time to
enquire after.

Lastly, he writes to the world publicly, and I but privately to your
Highness. Therefore I will proceed quoad sciam, poteroque.<246>

==============================

THE first bishop is Mr. John Elmer, of whom my author hath spoken
too little, and I, perhaps, shall seem to say too much. Yet once I
thought to have said somewhat of Bonner, because I may remember him
living in the late Queen's time unbishoped, and went sometime
abroad; but I was so young then, as I could judge nothing; and he
was so hated, that every ill-favored fat fellow that went in the
street, they would say, it was Bonner. But methinks now, by that I
have heard of him, I could liken him to Dionysius the tyrant of
Syracuse, who being cruel and peremptory in prosperity, was both
patient and pleasant in adversity. For example, that tyrant being
expelled his realm, and living a poor pedant, was one day with men
of mean sort, drinking in a tavern; some Diogenes espying him, came
to him with reverence, opening, and shaking his upper garment, (for
so they used in those days, that came into the King's chamber, to
show they had no weapons.) Dionysius perceiving the scorn, was
nothing troubled, but bade him come and drink with him, and shake
his clothes at the going out, that his host might see he caried
nothing with him. So Bonner, having twice lost his bishopric,
walking with his tippet<247> in the street, one begg'd it of him in
scoff, to line a coat; "No, (saith he) but thou shalt have a fool's
head, to line thy cap." And to another, that bade him "Good morrow,
bishop quondam;" he straight replied, "Farewell, knave semper."<248>
I have been told also, that one showed him his own picture in the
Book of Martyrs, in the first edition, of purpose to vex him; at
which he laughed, saying, "a vengeance of the fool, how could he get
my picture drawn so right?" And when one asked him if he were not
ashamed to whip a man with a beard? he laughed, and told him, "his
beard was grown since; but (saith he) if thou hadst been in his
case, thou wouldst have thought it a good commutation of penance, to
have thy bum beaten, to save thy body from burning:"—but this is too
much of this sloven.

I come now to Bishop Elmer, whom in mine own particular I loved very
well, and yet performing truly the task I have undertaken, I shall
show perhaps no great sign of it.

He was a man but mean of stature, yet in his youth very valiant,
which he forgot not in his age. When he first became a preacher,
following the popular phrase and fashion of the younger divines of
those times, which was to inveigh against the superfluities of
churchmen, he is remembered, namely to have used these words in a
sermon, before a great auditory, "Wherefore away with your
thousands, you bishops, and come down to your hundreds, &c.", But
this was but a heat of the spirit; of which not long after, by
reading and conference, he was thoroughly cured; in so much, as
being asked by one of his own rank, after he was Bishop of London,
what he meant to preach of the brainsick fashion, he answered with
the words of St. Paul, cum essem parvulus, loquebar ut parvulus,
sapiebam ut parvulus.<249>

But certain it is, no bishop was more persecuted and taunted by the
Puritans of all sorts than he was, by libels, by scoffs, by open
railing, and privy backbiting.

It is vulgar, yet a passage not unworthy remembering, that passed
between one Master Madox and him: for when the bishop had reproved
him about some matter concerning Puritanism, and he had answered the
bishop somewhat untowardly and over thwartly; the bishop (as he was
ingenious ever) said unto him,—" Thy very name expresseth thy
nature, for Mad-ox is thy name, and thou art as mad a beast as ever
I talked with." The other, not long to seek of an answer;—"By your
favor, Sir, (said he) your deeds answer your name righter than mine:
for your name is Elmar, and you have marred all the elms in Fulham,
by lopping them."

He used for recreation to bowl in a garden; and Martin
Marprelate<250> thence takes this taunting scoff, that the bishop
would cry, "Rub, rub, rub,"<251> to his bowl, and when it was gone
too far, say, "The devil go with it;" and then, saith he, the bishop
would follow. Thus they rubbed one another, till they were all
galled sometimes; and the bishop was so weary of the place, that he
would gladly have removed to Ely, and made great suit for it, and
was put in some hope of it. I have seen a letter or two of his to
his friend, subscribed thus, "Yours in love, but not in London." Yet
would he not take it with those hard conditions that were proposed,
lest Mr. Madox, and his like, might call him Eel-mar.<252> So as it
was noted as an ill fortune of his, to have died Bishop of London,
which eight before him in one hundred year had not done, but been
either preferrd, or deprived. He was diligent in preaching at his
cure, where he was first beneficed; and when his auditors grew dull,
and unattentive, he would with some pretty and unexpected conceit,
move them to attention. One among the rest was this:—He read a long
text in Hebrew, whereupon all seemed to listen what would come after
such strange words, as if they had taken it for some conjuration.
Then he showed their folly, that when he spake English, whereby they
might be instructed and edified, they neglected, and hearkened not
unto it; and now he read Hebrew, which they understood no word of,
they would seem so careful and attentive. When there was talk of
dangers, and rumours of war, and invasions, then he was commonly
chosen to preach in the court, and he would do it in so cheerful a
fashion, as not only showed he had courage, but would put courage
into others. "Here is much doubt, saith he, of malum ab
Aquilone,<253> and our cole-prophets<254> have prophesied that in
exaltatio Lunae Leo jungetur Leonae.<255> The astronomers tell of a
watery trigon; that great inundations of waters foreshow
insurrections of people, and downfall of princes: but as long as
Virgo is the ascendent with us, we need fear of nothing; Deus
nobiscum, quis contra nos?<256>—and for this, the Queen would much
commend him, yet would she not remove him. But though he were stout,
and wise, and rich, yet had he beside his conflicts with the
Puritans; also some domestical crosses. He had a daughter, a modest
gentlewoman, and very well brought up, whom he gave in marriage to
one Mr. Adam Squire<257> a minister and preacher, and learned, but a
very fantastical man, as appeared partly the first day; for as I
have heard, he would needs preach at his own marriage, upon this
text; "It is not good for Adam to be alone." This text he so
pursued, after he had been some years married, that though his wife
were away, yet Adam would not be alone. This course bred jealousy,
jars and complaints, and the bishop (as he had good cause)
reprehended his son-in-law. He, thinking to defend or at least
revenge himself by recrimination, accused her to have received a
love letter from a knight, (but the squire himself had indited it)
and this was so cunningly handled by him, and with such probability,
that her fault was as suspicious as his was manifest. Falsehood will
out at last: the bishop (that feared never a knight nor lord in
England) sends for the knight, (contrary to the squire's
expectation) bolts out the whole matter, finds there were
treacherous tricks put on his daughter, but no meretrix,<258> and
being too wise to publish his own disgrace, and too stout to endure
it; I have credibly heard (and believe it to be true) that with a
good waster<259> he so mortified this old Adam of his son-in-law,
Squire, that he needed no other penance but this, which was
according to the old canon, per disciplinam et verbera.<260>

In his sons he was more fortunate, than many bishops in England have
been thought to have been; his eldest being a civil gentleman, and
well left; another, an excellent preacher, that hath preached oft
before the King, and namely, once of this text out of the 2. of the
Canticles, v. 15. "Take us the foxes, the little foxes that destroy
our vines; for our vines have small grapes:" which sermon so pleased
his Majesty, that besides other approbations of it, he said to me,
that if Mr. Elmer had not had his father's collections and notes
against Puritans, he could never have made so good a sermon:—And so
much of Bishop Elmer.



BISHOPS OF LONDON:
Doctor Richard Fletcher.

There succeeded in less than one year's vacation, (as hath been
already told) Mr. Richard Fletcher,<261> a comely and courtly
prelate; but I may say, as Tully said, when he had commended King
Deiotarus<262> to Caesar, by the name of Rex frugi, a frugal or
thrifty prince, he straight addeth this parenthesis, quanquam Reges
hoc verbo laudari non solent; although, saith he, kings are not
accustomed to be praised with this word thrifty. So I might say,
that comely and courtly are no fit epithets for the true praise of a
prelate. I remembered before, how Ely had been long vacant, almost
20 years, and Bristol and Oxford, though both new erected
bishoprics, (saved as it were out of the ruins and ashes of the
abbeys) were thought in some danger again to be lost. For Bristol
was held in commendam,<263> and Oxford not much to be commended;
wherefore about the year [15]88, that same mirabilis annus, some of
the zealous courtiers, whose devotion did serve them more to prey on
the church than pray in the church, harkened out for fit supplies to
these places, and sent their agents to find out some men that had
great minds, and small means or merits, that would be glad to leave
a small deanery to make a poor bishopric, by new leasing out lands,
that were now almost out of lease; but to free him from the guilt of
it, the poor bishop must have no part of the fine. There was then a
dean, whom I may not name; (but to give the stork more life, I will
name his place for name sake of Coventry,) a man of great learning,
but of no great living. To him was sent one of these foxes, "the
little foxes that destroy our vines, and make small grapes," with
this favourable message, that his honourable lord had sent him to
him, to let him know how much he respected his good gifts (in which
word also, there might be some equivocation) and though it was hard
in those times to pleasure men of his worth, according to their
merit, yet my lord in favour of him, hath bethought him of this
course; that whereas Salisbury was then like to be void by a remove,
if this dean would for the present take the bishopric of Oxford,
which was then in a long vacation also, and make leases, &c. he
should the next year be removed to Salisbury. The honest dean, that
in his soul detested such sacrilege, made this mannerly and
ingenuous answer:—"Sir, I beseech you commend my humble service to
his honourable lordship; but I pray you tell his lordship, that in
my conscience, Oxford is not my right way from Coventry to
Salisbury." What became of Oxford I shall touch, and but touch,
hereafter.

I come now to bishop Fletcher, that made not so much scruple to take
Bristol in his way from Peterborough to Worcester, though that were
wide of the right way, upon the sinister or bow hand many miles; as
the card of a good conscience will plainly discover. I fortuned to
be one day at the Savoy with Mr. Secretary Walsingham, where Mr.
Fletcher was then upon his dispatch for Bristol; a familiar friend
of his meeting him there, bad "God give him joy, my lord elect of
Bristol;" which he (taking kindly and courtly upon him) answered,
that "it had pleased indeed the higher powers so to dispose of him;"
but said his friend in his ear,—" Do you not lease out tot et tot to
such and such?" He clapping his hand on his heart, in a good
graceful fashion, replied with the words of Naman the Syrian,<264>
"Herein the Lord be merciful to me:"—but there was not an Elizeus to
bid him "go in peace." What shall I say for him? Non erat hoc
hominis vitium sed temporis.<265> I cannot say so; for your Highness
knows I have written otherwise in a book of mine I gave you, Lib. 3,
num. 80.

Alas, a fault confessed were half amended,
But sin is doubled that is thus defended;
I know a right wise man says and believes
Where no receivers are, would be no thieves.<266>

Wherefore at the most I can but say, dividatur. He was a well-spoken
man, and one that the Queen gave good countenance to, and dis-
covered her favour to him, even in her reprehensions, as Horace
saith of Mecaenas;

—rerum tutela mearum
Cum sis, et prave sectum stomacheris ob unguem<267>
for she found fault with him once for cutting his beard too short:
whereas [the] good lady (if she had known it) she should have found
fault with him for cutting his bishopric so short. He could preach
well, and would speak boldly, and yet keep decorum. He knew what
would please the Queen, and would adventure on that, though it
offended others. Once I remember there had been two Councillors
sworn, within compass of one year, and neither of them had a gray
hair at that time, whereupon he glanced in his sermon at it with a
sentence of Seneca, against juvenile consilium, privatum commodum,
investum odium: which Mr. Daniel, upon a better occasion, did put
into English verse, in this sort,

That we may truly say, these spoil'd the state,
Young counsel, private gain, and partial hate<268>

The Queen, as I said, found no fault with his liberal speech, but
the friends of these councillors taxing him for it, I have heard he
had this pretty shift, to tell the friends of either of them he
meant it by the other.

Being bishop of London, and a widower, he married a gallant lady and
widow, sister to Sir George Gifford, the pensioner, which the Q.
seemed to be extremely displeased at, not for the bigamy of a bishop
(for she was free of any such superstition) but out of her general
dislike of clergymen's marriage: this being a marriage that was
talked of at least nine days. Yet in a while he found means to
pacify her so well, as she promised to come, and I think came to a
house he had at Chelsea. For there was a stair and a door made of
purpose for her in a bay-window; of which, pleasant wits descanted
diversely: some said, it was for joy, to-how he would (as the
proverb is) cast the house out of the window for her welcome; some
more bitingly called it the impress, or emblem, of his entry into
his first bishopric, viz. not at the door, but at the window. But
certain it is, that the Queen being pacified, and he in great
jollity, with his fair lady, and her carpets and cushions in his
bed-chamber, died suddenly, taking tobacco in his chair, saying to
his man that stood by him, whom he loved very well, "Oh boy, I
die!"—whereupon many bolts<268> were roved after him, and some
spitefully feathered: which, both for charity sake, as well as
brevity, I will omit. But this blunt one, not knowing out of whose
quiver it first came, but fitting a gray goose wing, I will produce
as his most vulgar epitaph:

Here lies the first prelate made Christendom see
A bishop a husband unto a Lady;
The cause of his death was secret and hid,
He cried out, "I die!"—and e'en so he did.

He was buried in the church, the dean and chapter of Paul's not
being so scrupulous as they of York were, the 9th of Henry the
first, who because their archbishop died suddenly, buried him
without the church-porch, notwithstanding he had been their great
benefactor.<269>



BISHOPS OF LONDON:
Richard Vaughan.

Mr. Richard Vaughan<270> is the next that I have to speak of, being
the last man named in my author's book, and of him he hath but two
lines, only declaring him to have been then Bishop of Chester.

Upon the remove of my Lord of Canterbury, that now is,<271> he
succeeded him in London, as is not unknown to your Highness.

His beginning of preferment was under my Lord Keeper Puckering,<272>
being his examiner of such as sued for the benefices in my Lord's
gift. In which, though some complained he was too precise, yet for
my part I ascribe to it one of his greatest praises. For this I
know, that a preacher, being a nobleman's chaplain, and therefore
qualified for two benefices, came to him recommended in good sort,
and brought with him a gentleman of both their acquaintance, that
sometime had been an university man, to speak for his approbation.
Master Vaughan examined him of no very deep points, and found him
but shallow, and not very ready in the Roman tongue, his friend
having been fain to help him up, in two or three foul stumbles, both
of language and matter. Whereupon he dismissed him, without all hope
of the benefice, and after told the gentleman seriously, that if he
would have it himself, he would allow him sufficient, but the suitor
by no means.

He was in those days very prompt, and ready in speech, and withal
facetious. He was an enemy to all supposed miracles, insomuch as one
arguing with him in the closet at Greenwich, in defence of them, and
alleging the Queen's healing of the evil for an instance, asking him
what he could say against it? He answered that he was loth to answer
arguments taken from the topic place of the cloth of estate; but if
they would urge him to answer, he said his opinion was, she did it
by virtue of some precious stone in the possession of the crown of
England, that had such a natural quality. But had Queen Elizabeth
been told, that he had ascribed more virtue to her jewels (though
she loved them well) than to her person, sbe would never have made
him Bishop of Chester.

He grew heavy and corpulent of a sudden, not so much with too much
ease, as with too little exercise. Corpus quod corrumpitur aggravat
animam.<273> Soon after his remove to London, he fell into that
drowsy disease of which he after died, growing thereby unfit for
that place, that requires a Vigilantius, and not a Dormitantius.

He was held a mild man, and was well spoken of in the city, which
sometime happeneth not to them that deserve it best. To conclude;
being taken with an apoplexy, he may be properly said to have slept
with his forefathers.



BISHOPS OF LONDON:
Dr Thomas Ravis.

Within a few months there succeeded him Doctor Ravis,<274> Bishop of
Gloucester, who is not formerly mentioned in this book, because Mr.
Gollsborough his predecessor in Gloucester was then living. His
preferment to Gloucester makes me remember a story that some record
of Scipio, who being made general of the Roman army, was to name his
quaestor or treasurer for the wars, whom he thought fit; being a
place in those days as is in these, of great importance. One that
took himself to have a special interest in Scipio's favour, was an
earnest suitor for it, but by the delay, mistrusting he should have
a denial, he importuned him one day for an answer. "Think not
unkindness in me (said Scipio) that I delay you thus, for I have
been as earnest with a friend of mine to take it, and cannot yet
prevail with him:"—noting hereby, that offices of charge and
conscience, are fittest for such as shun them modestly, rather than
such as seek them greedily. And, even so, did my lords of the
council deal with Mr. Ravis, who being then Dean of Christ Church,
which lightly<203> is not held, but by some choice man of the
university, being a place of good value and reputation, was
requested by them to take this bishopric, when many that sued to
have it, were put by. But as he was not willing to go thither, so
they of Gloucester were more unwilling he should go thence, he won
in a short space so great good liking of all sorts. Insomuch as some
that can scant well brook the name of a bishop, yet can be content
to give him a good report.

For my part, I have observed a great change in Gloucester, from that
it seemed to me nine years since, about the Earl of Essex going into
Ireland; for at that time neither their bishop seemed to care for
them, (lying at a prebend in Worcester, which methought was very
inconvenient;) nor they seemed to care much for themselves; all
their buildings, both public and private, looking old and ruinous:
whereas of late years, their bishop keeping his house near them, and
being daily with them, they have built them a new market-place, and
are now building a fair hall for Justice; which commendable and
comfortable disposition of people, there and elswhere, though it be
principally ascribed to the joy and comfort that all well-affected
persons took of his Majesty's happy entrance, and peaceable
government, and of the succession established in his hopeful issue;
yet is not least to be imputed to the discretion and diligence of
the pastors that waken and stir up their charity, and make them more
sensible of God's good blessings bestowed on them. And the rather by
this good bishop's means, the Lord of Shrewsbury hath very nobly,
and like himself, contributed to this so great and necessary work,
giving a large portion of timber towards it.

Now, as I said, it hath pleased his Majesty to place him in London,
magistratus indicabit virum.<276> This public place (for I count the
other was almost private to this.) will show what is in the man. I
need not prognosticate, but I can wish and hope, that as he is for
his person comparable to Mr. Fletcher, so he may equal Doctor Elmer
in courage, Doctor Bancroft in carefulness, and Doctor Vaughan in
his mild demeanour, to win the love of the people; and thus much be
said concerning the Bishops of London.



BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER:
Doctor William Wykeham.

Having passed Canterbury and London, both neighbours to the court,
and within the verge; I thought the greatest part of my task passed
over. Howbeit, Winchester I find also will afford some variety of
matter; and as it hath been a place that hath had many learned men,
and bred many learned, both divines, and philosophers, and poets; so
I shall take occasion in speaking of some of these that ensue, to
produce some poems both Latin and English; some made at Winchester,
some of Winchester, some against Winchester; not digressing herein
much from the method and manner of my author; who (as your Highness
may see) produceth good old rhyming verses of friars, both in praise
and dispraise of some of the bishops. For my purpose from the
beginning, though it were chiefly to inform your knowledge with a
faithful report of some things passed in Queen Elizabeth's time,
overpassed by my author; yet was it also to sauce it in such sort,
with some variety of matter, not impertinent, to cheer your spirit,
lest a dull relation of the acts of grave gray-beards to a young
Prince might grow fastidious.

First, therefore, of the first bishop Wykeham, whose life my author
hath set out so amply and orderly, as I need add nothing thereto;
only because a man that hath made so many good scholars deserves a
better verse than that on his tomb

Willelmus dictus Wickham jacet hic nece victus;
Jugiter oretis, tumulum quicunque videtis;—<276>
and such like stuff, which a Winchester scholar now would be
scourged, if he made no better. I having this pretty, poem of his
whole life, made by Doctor Johnson,<277> thought I could never do it
or him more honour than to present it to your princely view; for as
Sir Philip Sidney curseth all despisers of poetry, with this
poetical anathema; first, that they may be in love, and loose their
love for lack of a sonnet; next, that when they die, their memory
may die for want of an epitaph;<278> So, I would wish such as wrong
good poets, no worse punishment, than to have some vile verse
written of him, (whose reading, as Martial saith, might make a man's
physic work the better with him:) such as for the most part those
lazy friars were wont to write. For my part, though Wykeham's
epitaph be but seven or eight lines, and this twenty times seven,
yet I must confess it were less tedious to me at this present to
read the seven score than the seven; and hoping it may seem so to
you, I have here annexed them.

ORTUS ET VITA
GULIELMI DE WICKHAM
olim Episcopi Wintoniensis, & conditoris istius Collegii.
Qua capit australes comitatu Hamptona Britannos,

Wickhamia est vicus nec nisi parvus ager;
Vixit Johannes illic cognomine Longus

Cui fuit in casti parte Sibilla tori.
Hanc habuit patriam Gulielmus & hosce parentes

Wickhamus, augurio nec tamen absque bono.
Namque loci ut nomen, sic vim matrisque patrisque;

Haud dubie in vitam transtulit ille suam.
Longus enim ut longo duraret tempore, caute

Ut bene prospiceret cuncta, Sibilla dedit.
Ergo sub Edvardo natus regnante secundo,

Tunc ubi ter sceptri sexta cucurrit Hyems,
Viginti primos studiis & moribus annos

Wickhamiae (patris cura ea summa) dedit.
Nec tamen hic omnes, nam partem temporis hujus

Venta & Edingdoni praesulis aula tulit:
Protinus Edvardi translatus tertii in aulam

Non fieri nullo cœpit & esse loco,
Namque bis octo annis recte & feliciter actis

Rem fidei plenam consiliique subit;
Windesora fuit pagus celeberrimus, illic

Rex statuit castri maenia magna sui:
Wickhamus huic operi praeponitur, inde probatum est

Ingenio quantum polluit, arte, fide
Ergo fit Edvardo charus, Custosque Sigilli.

Non ita post multos incipit esse dies,
Nec tamen optati meta haec fuit ultima honoris,

Crevit adhuc regi charior usque suo:
Usque adeo ut sexto sit factus Episcopus anno,

Jussus Ventana pascere in urbe gregem.
Hic mini vaniloqui minuenda est fabula vulgi,

Fabula de tanto non bene ficta viro,
Namque nec Estmeonam petiit fallaciter unquam,

Sed tulit auratum Rege sciente pedum
Nec fuit indoctus, doctos facturus, ut ilium

Fama refert Rege verba dedisse suo.
Consule quae in tanti gessit molimine regni

Prudentem dices palladiumque virum.
Consule quae in sacri scribuntur calce statuti

An faceret doctos, addubitasse scies:
Adde quod (historici si pagina vera Frosarti est)

Rex Intercessor praesul ut esset erat,
Missa igitur vulgi faciamus verba prophani,

Quaerat et exactam nostra Thalia fidem:
Wickhamus ad summos evectus praesul honores,

Edvardo inque dies charior inque dies,
Jam patriae lumen, jam Cancellarius idem

Summus erat, Regi presidiumque suo.
Cum subito (sic magua ruunt summisque negatum est

Stare diu) ex tanto decidit ille gradu;
Namque per invidiam Regi dilatus ab illo,

Pellitur e patria, missus ut exul, humo:
Hoc factum est potius regem stimulante Senatu,

Quam quod erat culpae conscius ille malae,
An tamen exiret Regno, non convenit, et sunt

Qui paenae summam, displicuisse putant.
Interea moritur Rex hic Edvardus, & ejus

Opportuna Nepos sceptra Richardus habet:
Hic jubet exilio revocetur praesul ab isto,

Utque locum rursus quem tulit ante ferat;
Quin etiam census cereales reddit ad annos

Tres minus exilii quod puto tempus erat.
His opibus dives, mentemque per omnia versans

Non male quo servet tam bene parta modo;
Sed quid agat virtute sua, quid praesule dignum,

Quidve Deo, tantas cui referebat opes.
Post alia Oxonii (quod longum duret in aevum

Possit et a memori posteritate coli,)
Constituit pulchros studiis Phœboque penates,

Atque sacrum Musis aedificare domum;
Septima crevit Hiems post fundamenta locata

Ingreditur Custos, et sua tarba, larem;
Turba (nec his pueros famulosque decemque ministros

Infero) quae capiat, terque quaterque decem
His dedit et fundum curatoresque paravit.

Otia discentum, qui bene semper alant.
Magna quidem sunt haec, tamen haec tam magna placere

Lector, adhuc tante, non potuere viro.
Namque opere exacto, hoc, vix proxima fluxerat aestas

Quum parat alterius tecta locare domus
Quae prope Ventanae bene caepta Palatia sedis

Crevit, et in sexto vere parata stetit.
Ergo illic totidem studiosos esse jubebat

Queis et rectores, pedonomosque dedit.
Qui simulac primos complerint fortiter annos

Musarum in studiis, rhetoricisque tropis,
Altius inque novas deducta colonia terras,

Oxonium semper lecta juventus eat:
Haec duo Pieriis collegia condita mistis

Sunt in tutela, diva Maria, tua.
Idcirco nova dicta puto quod nulla vetustas

Nulla dies morsus tendat in illa suos.
Hic potuit credi, finem fecisse struendi

Wickhamus, et sumptus jam tenuisse suos.
Non tenuit divi nam quicquid in aede Swithini

Nolari occiduam spectat ab arce plagam;
Concio qua festis celebratur sacra diebus

Quaque suo in tumulo conditus ipse jacet.
Totum hoc, tam vastam molem, tantasque columnas

Impensis struxit restituitque suis;
Regis opes dicet propius qui spectat, et idem

Vix regum tantas esse putabit opes.
Forsitan et Gallia (nam sic est fama) Monastis

Quos rex a regno jussit abire suo.
Reddidit aequali praetio quaecunque receipt

Parisiis fundos, Parisiisque lares.
Nec tamen hoc sumptu, minor esse domestica cœpit

Cura viro famulos pavit ut ante suos,
Pavit, et illius testatur scripta sepulchro

Littera, gustavit dives inopsque cibum;
Huic ita viventi quum jam longaeva senectus

Corporis effaeti debilitasset onus;
Grata quies venit, vitae non discolor actae,

Ultima curarum linea, grata quies.
Annus erat vitae decies octavus, & illis

Henrici quarti sceptra diebus erant;
Jam testamentum quaeris si fecerit ullum?

Fecit; si fuerat quod daret ille? fuit.
Quod fuerit factis reliquum tot sumptibus? Ohe!

Inveniet nullam pagina nostra fidem.
Et tamen hoc dicam, regales vincere gazas,

Quae dedit in scriptis ultima dona suis,
Extat opus, Crœsumque putes scripsisse vel illum

Cujus facta haeres Roma superba fuit:
Vel cujus digitis mutatum fertur in aurum

Quicquid in aurifluas contigit ire manus;
Nec tamen ignavos bona tanta reliquit in usus,

Successusque bonus, propositumque fuit.

Namque diocesin ditavit templa per omnem,

Multaque cognatis, pauperibusque dedit:
Multa quoque et regi, fidis non pauca ministris

Sed neque gymnasiis munem pauca suis.
Haec sunt ergo viri monumenta perennia tanti,

Cujus, dum vixit, gloria tanta fuit.
Nec dubito, qui sic vixit, sic mortuus idem est,

Quin sit apud superos, nobilis umbra deos,
Sitque precor, nam si caelestis clauditur aula

Tot meritis, nobis illa patere queat?
Hactenus ire libet; tu major laudibus istis,

Suscipe conatus, Wickhame dive, meos.

Translation by Quintus Holland 
[http://www.thelatintranslator.com]

[THE ORIGINS AND LIFE OF WILLIAM WYKEHAM
erstwhile Bishop of Winchester and Founder of this College]

Where Hampshire affords space within its county for the
southern Britons, there is situated the village of Wickham and
a little land, and there lived John, surnamed 'Long', who
shared his chaste bed with his wife Sibyl. Such was the native
land of William Wykeham and his parents, and the auspices they
conferred were favourable, for without doubt William carried
the name of the place and the influence of his mother and
father across into his own life, for his father bestowed upon
him a long life, and Sibyl was responsible for the prudence
and success with which he planned carefully all his schemes.

He was born, then, in the reign of Edward II, when the king's
reign had already passed though its eighteenth winter, and he
devoted his first twenty years to studies and character-
building in Wickham (this was his father's overriding
concern), but not for the entire time, for Winchester and the
court of Bishop Edingdom claimed him for part of this time.
Immediately afterwards he was moved to the court of Edward
III, and began to make his presence felt in all places, for
after sixteen righteous and successful years he undertook a
task which fully revealed his loyalty and intelligence: Windor
was a most celebrated village, and there the king established
the great walls of his castle. Wykeham was set in charge of
this work, and thus it was proven how capable he was in
intelligence, skill, and trust. Therefore he was beloved by
Edward, and not many days later was appointed Guardian of the
Privy Seal. Yet this was not the ultimate limit of the
distinction he desired, and he grew still dearer to his king,
to the point where in the sixth year he was made bishop, and
bidden to feed the flock of Winchester. At this point I must
discourage a story put about by the empty gossip of the common
people, a story dishonorably made up about so great a man, for
he on no occasion sought East Meon [a residence of the bishops
of Winchester] by deception, but won the gilded crozier with
the king's knowledge, and was not an uneducated man claiming
to educate others, as rumour has it to the effect that he
deceived his king. Add to this the fact that (if the writings
of the historian Froissart are true) it was the king who
interceded to have him made bishop. Let us therefore dismiss
the words of the profane common folk, and let our Muse seek
the precise truth. When Wykeham was made bishop he was
elevated to the highest distinctions and became dearer to
Edward every day. Now he was the guiding light of his native
land, now he was also supreme Chancellor, and a tower of
strength to his king, when suddenly (such is the collapse of
great edifices, for it is denied even to the highest to stand
for long) he fell from so elevated a position. For a report,
born of envy, was made against him to the king, and he was
sent by him as an exile and driven from his native soil. This
happened more because parliament was inciting the king than
because the king was actually aware of any guilty
misbehaviour. There is no agreement as to whether he actually
left the realm, and some think that the king refused to
inflict this most serious punishment. Meanwhile this king
Edward died, and his grandson Richard took possession of the
opportunely available throne. He ordered the bishop to be
recalled from exile, and to resume the position he had
previously held. Indeed he made a return on his crops for
three years less than one would expect, which I think was the
period of his exile. Enriched by this wealth he explored every
possibility, not to see how he might keep what he had
successfully acquired for the wrong reasons, but to see what
he might achieve that would be worthy of his virtue and a
bishop, or indeed of God, on whom he depended for such great
wealth. After other considerations he decided to build a fine
home in Oxford for study and the arts (which I pray may endure
for a long time and be revered by mindful future generations),
and a house sacred to the Muses. As the seventh winter
advanced after laying the foundations he entered the dwelling
as Guardian with his followers. These numbered seventy, (and I
do not include his young lads and servants and ten assistants)
and he gave them the house to live in, and acquired a farm and
overseers, to watch thoroughly and unceasingly over the
leisure time of his students. These are great achievements,
but however great, dear Reader, they could still not satisfy
so great a man.

For, after completing this work, the next summer had only just
passed when he prepared to have the premises of a second
dwelling built, which after an auspicious start, developed
near the bishop's palace in Winchester. And so he bade an
equal number of students to assemble there, to whom he
assigned teachers and supervisors. As soon as they had
successfully completed their first years in the study of the
liberal arts and the tropes of rhetoric, and their community
had been taken more deeply into new academic areas, these
chosen young men were invariably to go to Oxford. These two
colleges, founded on a combination of all the arts, are under
your guardianship, Holy Mary. For that reason I believe that
no passage of time, and no day, will ever gnaw away at this
'New' College.

At this point it could well be believed that Wickham put an
end to building and reined in his spending. For he showed no
restraint on anything in the church of St. Swithin that looks
westward from the hill crowned by a bell-tower,<279> which is
where the Mass is celebrated on feast-days and where he
himself lies buried in his tomb. He built and restored all of
this, such a huge building, with such great columns, at his
own expense. Anyone who looks at it more closely will say that
such great wealth could scarcely belong even to kings, or
perhaps to some French monastics (for such is the story), whom
the king banished from his realm. He also restored at their
original value all the estates and houses he had received in
Paris. And yet his care for his household was no less than
this expense, and he supported his servants as he had done
previously. Yes, supported them, and as the inscription on his
tomb testifies, both rich and poor enjoyed his food. When,
after a long life lived in this way, a lengthy old age had
weakened the burden of his now enfeebled body, a pleasing calm
came, which was of a piece with the life he had spent, the
final limit of his cares, a truly pleasing calm. It was the
eightieth year of his life, and in the days of the reign of
Henry IV. Do you now enquire whether he made any will? He did.
And whether there was anything left after such great
expenditure? There was. Forsooth! Our page has met with no
belief. And yet I shall say this, that the last gifts in
written instructions which he gave surpassed the treasure of
kings. There survives a work, and you would think that it was
Croesus who wrote the bequest or the man whose heir was named
as haughty Rome, or that man in whose fingers it is said that
whatever found its way into his gold-charged hands actually
turned into gold. Yet he did he did not leave such great
wealth for base employments, and his intentions met with fair
success.

For he enriched churches throughout the entire diocese, and
gave much to his relatives, and to the poor, and much also to
the king, and no small amount to his loyal servants, along
with no few gifts to his colleges. These then are the immortal
monuments of so great a man, whose glory was so great while he
lived. I have no doubt that one who lived in this manner and
died in like manner is now a noble shade among the gods, and I
pray that he may indeed be such, for if the court of heaven is
shut against so many acts of merit, how could it lie open to
us? Thus far I will go; but may you, saintly Wykeham, being
greater than my praises, give support to my attempts.

And hereby your highness may observe how vain that foolish tradition
is, which my author discreetly omitted, as not believing it, yet
some will still maintain that Wykeham was unlearned, and only a
surveyor of buildings, and by a kind of fraud deceived King Edward
3, (no likely prince to be so deceived) begging the parsonage of
Eastmean, to which (by like authority) they will have the bishopric
of Winchester annexed as unseparably as the Earldom of Arundell to
Arundell Castle; for who could think that such a King as Edw. 3
would make Sir John Lacklattin, first his secretary, then privy-
seal, then master of the wards, and treasurer of France, and lastly,
prelate of the garter, and chancellor of England? And so much of the
first Wykeham.



BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER:
Doctor Stephen Gardiner.

Because I will not always be praising, but sometimes, (where just
cause is given,) reprehend men's demerits, as well as magnify their
merits; I will take occasion to speak somewhat of Stephen
Gardiner,<280> twice Bishop of Winchester; and therefore may
challenge to be twice remembered, though for some things of him it
were to be wished they were ever forgotten. My author directs his
reader to Mr. Foxe's Book of Martyrs, for a more full relation of
his doings; but that is so full (though I doubt not, very faithful)
that I fear your Highness will find it over-tedious to read. My
purpose is therefore but to note some important observations out of
his story, and after, (as I did of Wykeham in Latin,) so to add some
English poetry written of him, and to him, which is not to be found
in Mr. Foxe, though some of it helps to confirm somthing concerning
him, affirmed by Mr. Foxe, and called in question by others. Mr.
Foxe therefore greatly praiseth his natural gifts of mind, his sharp
wit, his excellent memory, which is indeed the storehouse of all
learning and knowledge, for tantum scimus quantum meminimus.<281>
But to these, he said, he had great vices, as pride, envy, and
cruelty, flattering to his prince, submissive to his superious,
envious to his equals, (namely to Cromwell,) and haughty to his
inferiors: these or the like, are Mr. Foxe's words. It seemes
further, in relation of his life and death, he was a catholic-
protestant, or a protesting catholic. For as he shows at large out
of his books<282> and sermons, though he received the Pope's
authority in Queen Mary's time; yet his opinion was, (as his
writings before declared, and as the wiser sort, I think, do still
hold of it,) that it is but a temporal constitution of men, and
agreement of princes, to allow the same; which upon just occasions
they may restrain or exclude, as they shall find cause. But yet I
observe this, that although it was necessary for Queen Mary, in
respect of her birth to admit of the Pope's authority, as the
contrary was as necessary for her sister; yet this so catholic
Queen, and this so popish prelate, could keep out the Pope's legate
out of England by her royal prerogative, when he would have sent a
legate hither not to her liking. Again, he was earnest against
marrying of ministers, yet he confesseth frankly, that a married man
may be a minister. He defended the real presence, yet he allowed the
communion under both kinds; he wrote in defence of images, yet he
publicly approved their pulling down where they were superstitiously
abused. Finally, he said at his death, that it would mar all, to
teach the people that they are freely justified by the blood of
Christ; and yet, even then, when he could not dissemble, he
confessed it to be true doctrine.

Lo how far this stout prelate, cedere nescius,<283> (as Mr. Foxe
saith of him) did yield in those main points of Popery. 1. The
Supremacy. 2. The marriage of some ministers. 3. The sacrament in
both kinds. 4. Removing images. 5. Justification.

But now for his sharp persecuting or rather revenging himself on
Cranmer and Ridley,<284> that had in King Edward's days deprived
him, his too great cruelty cannot be excused.

Lastly, the plots he laid to entrap the Lady Elizabeth, his terrible
hard usage of all her followers; I cannot yet scarce think of with
charity, nor write of with patience.

My father, only for carrying of a letter to the Lady Elizabeth, and
professing to wish her well, he kept him in the Tower twelve months,
and made him spend a thousand pound ere he could be free of that
trouble. My mother, that then served the said Lady Elizabeth, he
caused to be sequestered from her as an heretic insomuch that her
own father durst not take her into his house, but she was glad to
sojourn with one Mr. Topcliff; so as I may say, in some sort, this
bishop persecuted me before I was born.

Yet, that I speak not all out of passion, I must confess I have
heard some as partially praise his clemency and good conscience; and
namely, that he was cause of restoring many honourable houses,
overthrown by King Henry the Eighth, and in King Edward's minority.
The Duke of Norfolk, though Mr. Foxe saith that Gardiner made him
stay long for his dinner one day, yet, both he, and those descended
of him were beholding to him, with the house of Stanhope, and the
Lord Arundel of Warder; and I have heard old Sir Matthew Arundel
say, that Bonner<285> was more faulty than he, and that Gardiner
would rate him for it; and call him Ass, for using poor men so
bloodily; and when I would maintain the contrary, he would say, that
my father was worthy to have lain a year longer in prison, for the
saucy sonnet he wrote to him from out of the Tower; which sonnet,
both because it was written in defence of Queen Elizabeth, and
because (if I be not partial,) it is no ill verse, for those
unrefined times, and toucheth the matter I enforce, I do here set
down: presupposing that in the eleven months before, he had sent him
many letters, and petitions full of reason (that could not prevails)
for his liberty, the distressed prisoner writeth this rhyme.

1
AT least withdraw your cruelty,

or force the time to work your will;
It is too much extremity,

to keep me pent in prison still.
Free from all fault, void of all cause;
Without all right, against all laws.

How can you do more cruel spite

Than proffer wrong, and promise right?

Nor can accuse, nor will acquite.

2
Elev'n months past, and longer space,

I have abid your devilish drifts,
While you have sought both man and place,

and set your snares with all your shifts;
The faultless foot to wrap in wile,
With any guilt, by any guile;

And now you see it will not be,

How can you thus for shame agree

To keep him bound you ought set free?

3
Your chance was once as mine is now,

to keep this hold against your will,
And then you swore, you know well how,

though now you swerve, I know how ill.
But thus the world his course doth pass,
The priest forgets that clerk he was;

And you that then cried "Justice" still,

And now have justice at your will,

Wrest justice wrong, against all skill.

4
But why do I thus coldly plain,

as though it were any cause alone?
When cause doth each man so constrain,

as England through hath cause to moan,
To see your bloody search of such,
As all the earth can no way touch:

And better 'twere that all your kind,

Like hounds in hell, with shame were shrined,

Than you had might unto your mind.

5
But as the stone that strikes the wall

sometimes rebounds on th' hurlers head,
So your foul fetch to your foul fall

may turn, and 'noy the breast it bred.
And then such measure as you gave
Of right and justice, look to have;

If good or ill, if short or long;

If false or true, if right or wrong:

And thus, till then, I end my song.

But to show a pattern what partiality can paint in his praise, and
what ill will can pervert to reproach, I will add an elegy in
English also, written by one Mr. Pridiaux, in commendation, and the
same answered in execration of the same bishop.

1
THE saints in Heaven rejoice,

this earth and we may wail;
Sith they have won and we have lost

the guide of our avail.

2
Though death have loosed life,

yet death could not deface
His worthy works, his staid state,

nor yet his gifts of grace.

3
As Gardiner was his name,

so gardened he his life
With justice, and with mercy both,

to stay the weeds of strife.

4
A Steven in religion stout,

a bishop by his acts,
A faithful man most free from fraud

as witness be his facts.

5
A judge most just in judgement seat,

of parties no regard;
An eye to see, an ear to hear,

a hand that shunned reward.

6
A heart to help, and not to harm;

his will was wisdom's law,
A mind that malice could not move,

such was of God his awe.

7
A faith in friendship firm and fast,

a mount the right to raise,
A spirit not 'palled with slanderous brutes,

nor puffed with pride by praise.

8
Not light of credit to reports,

revenge he never sought;
But would forget, and did forgive

the wrongs that were him wrought.

9
A truth so tried in trust,

as tongue could never taint,
Nor erst was heard, in guileful wise,

A lie with lips to paint.

10
Though Nature's child by birth,

yet virtue's heir in right,
Which held his height so modestly,

as measure mastered might.

11
Ambition's climbing cliff

could never move his mind,
Nor fortune with her fawning cheer,<286>

his heart did never blind.

12
Nor misery which most he felt,

or prison might him 'pall,
But bore his mind in level so,

as change could be no fall.

13
In all these turns of joy and woe,

he turned to the best;
And held him to the tried truth,

which now hath won him rest.

14
From foes deface, and envy's bell,

his end hath made him free,
And plucked him from this wicked world,

too worthy here to be.

15
Who can give tears enough to plain

the loss and lack we have
So rare a man, so soon bereft,

when most we did him crave.

18
When age and years had made him ripe,

and surety had him set,
To know himself and wield the world

and right with mercy met.

17
And when of envy, and of hate,

the conquest he had won,
And falsehood forced to fly his fort,

and right his race to run,

18
And when of glory and of grace.

he won the palm and price,
And conquered all affection's force,

with wisdom's good advice.

19
And in the office that he bore,

and service of his Queen,
So choice a man to serve her call,

scarce anywhere was seen.

20
Then death, that fatal foe,

the line of life did loose,
And in the belly of the earth

as earth she did him close.

21
The Prince may plain his death,

the realm his lack may rue;
All men may say, O Winchester,

most worthy wight, adieu!

22
The poor may plain and pine,

whose lacks he did relieve
His servants may lament their lord

which lordly did them give.

23
The bishops may behold

a bishop them bereft,
A perfect priest, a shield of faith,

a mirror of them left.

24
His foes, if any were,

that first did wish him gone,
In length of time and lack of like,

too late his loss will moan.

25
O pastor past this pilgrim's pain,

in earth thine acts do live,
In skies thy virtues written are,

all pens thee praise shall give.

26
Which after all these heaps of haps

a happy life hast led,
And, in the happiest hap of all,

in fame and love art dead.

The same answered verse for verse by an ill-willer of the said
bishop.

1
THE devils in Hell do dance,

this realm and we may joy,
Since they have got and we forgone

the cause of our annoy.

2
Though death hath wiped out life,

yet death cannot outrace
His wicked works, usurped state;

nor faults of his deface.

3
A Gardiner<287> such he was,

as spoiled so our plants,
That justice withered, mercy died,

and we wrung by their wants.

4
A Steven in name, a fox in fact,

a bishop but in weeds,
A faithless man, full fraught with frauds,

as deem him by his deeds.

5
A partial judge in judgement seat,

of parties great respect,
A blinded eye, a closed ear,

a hand with bribe infect.

6
A heart to harm, and not to help,

his lust was laid for law,
A mind with malice overwhelmed,

of God nor man no awe.

7
A feigned fickle friend and false,

that right could never bide;
A courage every storm cast down,

and praise puffed up with pride.

8
Of foul reports and slanderous bruits

he nourished up the brood;
His wrongs to pardon or to pass,

revenge and rage withstood.

9
A tried untruth in trust,

as tongues well tried have told,
A mouth that breathed more odious lies

than I t'upbraid am bold.

10
Scant Nature's child by birth,

sure Satan's son in right,
Which rule maintained with sword and fire,

and measured all by might.

11
Ambitious climbing cliff

had ravished so his mind,
As he was sotted drunk therein,

And fortune made him blind.

12
The smell of prison's misery felt,

his pride did greatly 'pall;
He bore his staff so stagg'ringly,

as each change seemed a fall.

13
In all these turns of joy and woe 

he turned with the best,
And never left the surer side

till breath did leave his breast,

14
From widow's curse and orphan's cry

his end him cannot save,
Though that have rid him of his reign

unworthy rule to have.

15
Who can give thanks and joy enough

that we have 'scaped this sire,
This monstrous man, this bloody beast,

when most we did desire.

16
When years had framed him fit for Hell,

and pride so high had set,
As God nor man nor self he knew,

and might with mischief met,

17
And when the envy and the hate

he won of every wight,
And falsehood flourished in his fort,

and wrong had wrung out right;

18
And when he gloried most in pomp,

in honour and in health,
And by affection conquered all,

and wallowed all in wealth;

19
And in the office that he bore,

to rule above the Queen,
So cruel end so merciless

scarce ever man was seen.

20
Then God, that most just judge,

life's line to part was pleased,
The earth his carrion corpse hath caught,

the Devil his soul hath seized.

21
The Prince his death may please,

this realm his life doth rue,
All men may well his birth-day ban

this cursed wretch that knew.

22
The poor may plain and pine;

for none he would relieve,
His men may joy his death was such

his goods was his to give.

23
Good bishops may beware

this ravener them bereft,
This popish priest, this shield of wrong,

a warning for them left.

24
His friends, if any were, 

that wished him longer reign,
With length of time might cause have caught

too late his rule to plain.

25
O thou devourer of the good,

thy wrongs in earth do dwell,
Thy cruel thirst of guiltless blood

now must thou quench in hell.

26
Which in the world of deadly hurts

most hurtful life hast led,
And now with England's common joy

in shame and hate art dead.

Which of these wrote truest I will not take upon me to judge, lest I
should be thought partial; but that saying appears true: scribit in
marmore laesus.<288> Therefore I will conclude against all partial
poets, with two verses of Horace.

Falsus honor juvat, et mendax infamia terret
Quem, nisi mendosum et mendacem?<289>



BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER:
Doctor John Whyte.


He<290> was born of a worshipful house, and in the diocese of
Winchester, and became after warden of Winchester, thence (for his
great learning and virtuous life,) preferred to the bishopric of
Lincoln, and after, upon the death of Stephen Gardiner, made bishop
of Winchester;<291> wherefore of him I may say, that his fame might
have answered his name, saving for one black sermon<292> that he
made. Yet for the colour it may be said he kept decorum, because it
was a funeral sermon of a great Queen, both by birth and marriage: I
mean Queen Mary. But the offence taken against him was this. His
text was out of Eccles. 4. 2. Laudavi mortuos magis quam viventes et
faeliciorem utroque judicavi qui nec dum natus est.<293> And
speaking of Queen Mary, her high parentage, her bountiful
disposition, her great gravity, her rare devotion, (praying so much,
as he affirmed, that her knees were hard with kneeling,) her justice
and clemency in restoring noble houses to her own private loss and
hindrance; and lastly her grievous yet patient death: he fell into
such an unfeigned weeping, that for a long space he could not speak.
Then recovering himself, he said she had left a sister to succeed
her, a lady of great worth also, whom they were now bound to obey;
for, saith he, "melior est canis vivus [quam] leone mortuo,"<294>
and I hope she shall reign well and prosperously over us, but I must
say still with my text, laudavi mortuos magis quam viventes; for
certain it is, Maria optimam partem elegit."<295> Thus he: at which
Queen Elizabeth taking just indignation, put him in prison, yet
would proceed no further than to his deprivation, though some would
have made that a more heinous matter.

He was a man of austere life, and much more mortified to the world,
than his predecessor Gardiner, who was noted for ambitious, but yet
to his Prince very obsequious. But if Dr. Whyte had had a true
prophetical spirit, he might have urged the second part of his text,
sed feliciorem utroque judicavi qui nec dum natus est; for that may
seem verified indeed in the King's Majesty that now is, who was then
unborn, and hath since so happily united these kingdoms; yet lest
that which I would make in him a prophecy, others will take in me
for a flattery; I will proceed to the next, or rather I should say
to another, for of the two next.I need ad nothing, my author having
testified by both their epitaphs, that they lived and died well.



BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER:
Doctor Thomas Cooper.

I intend therefore to speak next of Dr. Cooper,<296> because of
bishop Horne and bishop Watson,<297> I cannot add anything upon sure
ground; for of the former times, I have other books of stories, or
relation of my father that lived in those days; but of these that
lived in the first twenty years of the Queen's reign, when I was at
school or at the university, I could hear little; yet at my first
coming to the court, I heard this pretty tale, that a bishop of
Winchester one day in pleasant talk, comparing his revenue with the
archbishops of Canterbury, should say,—"Your Graces will show better
in the rack, but mine will be found more in the manger;"—upon which
a courtier of good place said, "it might be so in diebus illis;<298>
but, (saith he,) the rack stands so high in sight, that it is fit to
keep it full, but it may be, since that time, some have, with a
provideatur, swept some provender out of the manger:" and because
this metaphor comes from the stable, I suspect it was meant by the
Master of the Horse.

To come then to bishop Cooper, of him I can say much, and I should
do him great wrong, if I should say nothing; for he was indeed a
reverent man, very well learned; exceeding industrious, and (which
was in those days accounted a great praise to him, and a chief came
of his preferment,) he wrote that great Dictionary<299> that yet
bears his name. His life in Oxford was very commendable, and in some
sort saint-like; for if it be saint-like to live unreprovable, to
bear a cross patiently, to forgive great injuries freely; this man's
example is sampleless in this age.

He married a wife in Oxford, for that special just cause (I had
almost said, only cause) why clergymen should marry, viz. for
avoiding of sin; melius est enim nubere quam uri:<300> yet was it
his very hard hap that she proved too light for his gravity many
grains. At the first he winked at it with a Socratical and
philosophical patience; taking, or rather mistaking, the
equivocating counsel of Erasmus his echo. Quid si mihi veniat usu,
quod his qui incidunt in uxores parum pudicas parumque frugiferas?
feras; At qui cum talibus morte durior est vita? vita:<301> wherein
I observe in the two echoes, how in the first, feras signifies
either the verb, suffer, or the noun, wild beasts, or shrews. In the
latter, vita signifieth the noun life, or the verbs shun or eschew:
so he (good man) construed feras vite, suffer during life, and I
should take it vita feras, shun shrews. But this fera, whom his
feras made feram, committed wickedness even with greediness, more
than was in power of flesh and blood to bear. Wherewith being much
afflicted, having warned his brother privately; and borne with him
perhaps 70 times seven times; in the end, taking him both in a place
and fashion (not fit to be named) that would have angered a saint,
he drove him thence, not much unlike as Tobias drove away the spirit
Asmodeus, for that was done with a roast,<302> and this with a spit.
It was high time now to follow the counsel dic Ecclesiae; so (as all
Oxford knows) her paramour was bound from her in a bond of a hundred
pound, but they should rather be bolts of an hundred pound.

The whole university in reverence of the man and indignity of the
matter, offered him to separate his wife from him by public
authority, and so to set him free, being the innocent party. But he
would by no means agree thereto, alleging, he knew his own
infirmity, that he might not live unmarried; and to divorce and
marry again, he would not charge his conscience with so great a
scandal.

After he was bishop, mad Martin, or Marprelate, wrote his book or
rather libel against bishops,<304> which some (playing with Martin
at his own weapon) answered pleasantly both in rhymes and prose, as
perhaps your Highness hath seen, or I wish you should see, for they
are short and sharp, But this bishop with authority and gravity
confuted him soundly;<305> whereupon Martin Madcap (for I think his
cap and head had like portion of wit) replying, anabaptised his
bastard book by the name of Work for the Cooper; <306> and had not
the wisdom of the state prevented him, I think he and his favourers
would have made work for the tinker: and so much of Bishop Cooper,
though I could add a report, that a great lord dying in his time
bequeathed him a great legacy, but because I have not seen his last
testament, I cannot precisely affirm it.



BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER:
Doctor William Wickham.

This bishop my author professes to reverence for his name's sake,
and his predecessor's sake; and I much more for his own sake, and
his virtues' sake. About the year 1570, he was vice-provost of
Eton,<307> and (as the manner was in the schoolmaster's absence)
would teach the school himself, and direct the boys for their
exercises, (of which myself was one) of whom he showed as fatherly a
care, as if he had been a second tutor to me. He was reputed there a
very mild and good natured man, and esteemed a very good preacher,
and free from that which St. Paul calleth idolatry, I mean
covetousness; so that one may say probably, that as the first
William Wykeham was one of the richest prelates that had been in
Winchester in long time, and bestowed it well; so this was one of
the poorest, and endured it well. He preached before the Queen at a
parliament, I think the last time that ever he preached before her;
and indeed it was cygnea vox, a "swan's song," sweetest, being
nearest his end, which if I could set down as he delivered, were
well worth the remembering. But the effect was this; that the
temporalities of bishoprics, and lands of colleges, and such like,
were from their beginning for the most part the graces, and gifts,
and alms of princes, her Majesty's progenitors, that for some
excesses and abuses of some of them, they had been and lawfully
might be, some quite taken away, some altered, some diminished; and
that accordingly they were now reduced to a good mediocrity; for
though there were some far greater bishoprics in France, Spain, and
Germany, yet there were some also less, and meaner, even in Italy.
But yet he most humbly besought her Majesty to make stay of them at
least in this mediocrity; for if they should decay so fast in 30
year to come, as they had for 30 year past, there would hardly be a
cathedral church found in good repair within England; which
inconvenience (he said) would soon spread from the clergy to the
temporality, that would have cause with Hippocrates' twins, to laugh
and weep together. This, as he spoke zealously, so the Q. gave ear
to it graciously; and some good effect was supposed to follow it,
for which they both now feel their reward: and thus much of Wickham.



BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER:
Doctor William Day.

<308>It was said that a pleasant courtier and servitor of King Henry
the Eighth, to whom the King had promised some good turn, came and
prayed the King to bestow a living on him, that he had found out,
worth 100li. by the year more than enough: "Why, saith the King, we
have none such in England:"—"Yes Sir, said his man, the provostship
of Eaton; for (said he) he is allowed his diet, his lodging, his
horse-meat, his servants' wages, his riding charge, his apparel,
even to the points of his hose, at the college charge; and 100li. by
the year beside." How true this is, I know not; but this I know,
that Mr. Day having both this and the deanery of Windsor, was
persuaded to leave them both, to succeed him that had been once his
vice-provost of Eton, in the church of Winchester. He was a man of
good nature, affable and courteous, and at his table, and in other
conversation pleasant, yet always sufficiently retaining his
gravity.

When he was first Dean of Windsor, there was a singing man in the
choir, one Wolner, a pleasant fellow, but famous for his eating
rather than his singing; and for the swallow of his throat, rather
than the sweetness of his note. Mr. Dean sent a man to him to
reprove him for not singing with his fellows; the messenger thought
all were worshipful at least, that wore white surplices; and told
him, Mr. Dean would pray his worship to sing:—" Thankee, Mr. Dean
(quoth Wolner) and tell him, I am as merry as they that sing;"—which
answer, though it would have offended some man, yet hearing him to
be such as I have described, he was soon pacified.

He broke his leg with a fall from a horse, that started under him;
whereupon some waggish scholars, of which I think myself was in the
quorum, would say it was a just punishment, because the horse was
given him by a gentleman to place his son in Eton, which at that
time we thought had been a kind of sacrilege, but I may say, cum
eram parvulus, sapiebam ut parvulus.<249> He had, in those days, a
good and familiar fashion of preaching, not mincing the word, as
some do, with three words to feed 3000 people, that go away all
sometimes as empty as they came; nor as other, that are nodosi,<309>
drawing their auditory with them into deep questions and dangerous
passages, that howsoever they suppose they come off themselves much
admired, they leave their auditors many times more than half-
mired.<310> But his was a good plain fashion, apt to edify, and easy
remember: I will repeat one lesson of many that I remember out of
sermons of his, which I can imagine yet I hear him pronouncing, and
it was concerning prayer: "It is not (saith he) a praying to God,
but a tempting of God, to beg his blessings, without doing also our
own endeavour; shall a scholar pray to God to make him learned, and
never go to his book? shall a husbandman pray for a good harvest,
and let his plow stand still?—the Pagans, and Heathen people, would
laugh at such devotion. In their fabulous legends they have a tale
of Hercules, whom for his strength they counted a God; how a carter,
forsooth, had overthrown his cart, and sat down in the way, crying,-
"help Hercules, help Hercules;"—at last Hercules (or one in his
likeness) came to him, and swaddled him thriftily with a good
cudgel, and said, "thou varay lazy fellow, (so he used to pronounce)
callest thou to me for help, and dost nothing thyself? Arise, set to
thy shoulder, and heave thy part, and then pray to me to help thee,
and I will do the rest." And thus much of our good old provost, who
being made a new bishop, and of a register of the garter becoming
now prelate of the garter, enjoying this dignity a very short time,
turned his day into night, though no night can oppress them that
"die in the Lord."<311>

By the way, I think this worth the noting, that whereas in the year
of our Lord 1486, being the first of King Henry the Seventh, it was
found that three bishops successively had held this bishopric six
score years save one, namely, Wykeham, Beaufort, and Wainfleet:—Now
in Queen Elizabeth's reign, there. had been seven bishops in forty
yearS, five in seventeen yearS, and three in four yearS.



BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER:
Doctor Thomas Bilson.

<312>My author, following his own resolution of forbearing to speak
of men now living, or but lately dead; I holding my purpose to speak
frankly, and truly, as far as my understanding will serve me both of
dead and living; I am now come to speak of the present Bishop of
Winchester, of whom I find in this book but four lines; and if I
should give him his due in proportion to the rest, I should spend
four leaves. Not that I need make him better known to your Highness,
being (as on just occasion I noted before) one of the most eminent
of his rank, and a man that carries prelature in every aspect. His
rising was meetly by his learning, as true prelates should rise: non
modo labe mali, sed suspicione carentes; "not only free from the
spot, but from the speech of corruption." He ascended by all degrees
of schools: first, wherein to win knowledge himself; next, whereby
to impart it to others, having sometime taught the school that doth
justly boast of the name of Winchester, where (if I mistake it not)
he succeeded that excellent scholar and schoolmaster, Doctor
Johnson; that wrote that forerecited poem of Wykeham; who having
praised all his predecessors in pretty distichs, he wrote this as
the last in modesty of himself.

Ultimus hic ego sum, sed quam bene quam male nolo
Dicere, de me qui judicet alter erit.<313>

And, accordingly, his successor gave this judgement.

Ultimus es ratione loci, re primus Johnson,
Sed quis de te judicet aptus erit.
Tam bene quam nullus qui te praecesserit ante
Tam male posteritas ut tua pejus agat.

Wherein Mr. Johnson became truly fortunate, according to the saying,
laudari a laudato viro, laus est maxima;

"Him fame doth raise,
Whose praiser merits praise."

From schoolmaster of Winchester, he became warden, and having been
infinitely studious and industrious in poetry, in philosophy; in.
physic, and lastly, (which his genius chiefly called him to) in
divinity; he became so complete, for skill in languages, for
readiness in the fathers, for judgement to make use of his readings,
that he was found fit to be no longer a soldier, but a Commander-in-
Chief, in our spiritual warfare, being first made bishop of
Worcester, and after of Winchester. In the mean season, a crew of
mutinous soldiers (a forlorn hope) undertook to surprise one of the
twelve fortresses of our faith, I mean one of the twelve articles of
our creed; and ere men were aware, they had entered by a postern,
corrupted a watchman or two, thrown down a battlement, and set up
their colours of white and black, (black and blue had been fitter
for them) publishing a book in print, that "Christ descended not
into hell."<314>

The alarm was taken by many faithful servitors of the militant
church, but many were not found fit for this enterprise, for it was
whispered (nay rather published in the enemies' camp,) that some
cowardly soldiers of our side had made a motion to have this fort,
or part thereof razed, because there was thought to be peril in
defending of it; for so Campion writes confidently, that Cheyney,
bishop of Gloucester, had affirmed to him, how it had been moved in
a convocation at London, quemadmodum sine tumultu penitus eximatur
de symbolo "how, without many words, it might be taken out of the
creed wholly:" but I leave Erasmus' echo to answer it, O lie. True
it is, there was a hot shot. One Mr. Broughton,<315> no cannoneer,
(for he loves no canons,) but that could skill of such fireworks as
might seem to put out hell-fire; this hot-brain having with a
petard<316> or two broken open some old door, took upon him with
like powder, out of some basilisk<317> (as I think) to shoot
Hades<318> quite beyond sunne and moon; such a powder-work against
all divinity and philosophy, as was never heard of, always excepting
the powder-treason.<319>

Then this learned bishop, like a worthy leader (that I may proceed
in this metaphor) with a resolute troop, not of loose shot, but
gravis armaturae, "armed to proof," (out of Christ's armory, the Old
and New Testament, fathers, doctors, schoolmen, linguists,)
encounters these lancepezados,<320> cast down their colours, repairs
up the ruins, beautifies the battlements, rams up the mines, and
makes such ravelins and counterscarps about this fort, that now none
of the twelve may seem more impregnable. Their great engineer,
before mentioned, upon grief of this repulse, is gone (as I hear) to
teach the Jews Hebrew; God send him to 'scape Hades in the end of
his journey. Yet in the heat of these skirmishes, there happened an
accident worthy to be remembered, and I think by the very device of
the devil. This bishop preaching at Paul's Cross, upon this article
of the creed; and there proving by authority irrefragable, that hell
is a place prepared for the devil and his angels; that it is beneath
in corde terrae,<321> and that Christ descended into it. Satan, that
knew all this to be true, and was sorry to remember it, and wished
that none of the auditory would believe it, raised a sudden and
causeles fear, by the fraud or folly of some one auditor. This fear
so incredibly possessed not only the whole multitude, but the Lord
Mayor and other Lords present, that they verily believed that Paul's
church was at that instant falling down; whereby such a tumult was
raised, as not only disturbed their devotion and attention, but did
indeed put some of the gravest, wisest, and noblest of that assembly
into evident hazard of their lives, as I have heard of some of their
own mouths. The bishop, not so dismayed himself, as sympathising in
pity rather than fear of their causeless dismay, after the tumult
was a little pacified, finished his sermon. Upon which accident,
some favourers of that opinion make themselves merry with this
story, that at least that which they could not confute, they might
seem to contemn.


BISHOPS OF ELY:
Doctor Martin Heaton.

<322>Of Ely I have not much to say, yet in a little I may be thought
by some to say too much; which I will adventure rather than your
Highness shall blame me for saying nothing. I was among others at
Bishop Cox his funeral,<323> being then either Bachelor, or a very
young Master of Art; but some years after, we thought it would have
proved the funeral of the bishopric, as well as of the bishop.
Something there was that had distasted the Queen concerning Bishop
Cox, in his life-time; either his much retirednes, or small
hospitality, or the spoil he was said to make of woods and parks,
feeding his family with powdered<324> venison; all which (I know not
how truly) was suggested to her against him, in his lifetime, and
remembered after his death. For our opinion of him in Cambridge, we
held him a good scholar, and a better poet than Doctor Haddon,<325>
who called him Master; whether as having been his scholar or
servant, I know not; but among his poems is extant a distich written
to Bp. Cox.

Vix caput attollens lecto scribere carmen,
Qui velit, is voluit scribere plura, vale.

Which verse, being but even a sick verse, he answered extempore (as
they tell,) with this;

Te magis optarem salvum, sine carmine fili,
Quam sine te salvo, carmina multa, vale.

As for his church of Ely, it seems he had no great love there to
have his monument defaced within twenty years (as this author
writes) so as remembering his good beginning, one may say of him,
cœpisti melius quam desinis.<326>

But to let him rest, I must confess that it was held for one of the
blemishes of Queen Elizabeth's virgin reign;—First to keep this see
of Ely vacant so long after Bishop Cox his death, and after to take
away so large a portion from it, as is generally spoken; yet that I
may both speak my conscience, and show my charity as well to my
deceased sovereign, as to the reverent bishop yet living, I will say
this: First, I could wish it had not been so, and that the occasion
of such a scandal between the crown and the mitre had been taken
away. Secondly, I do say for the Queen, she did no new thing; and it
is held a principle of state, that whatsoever there is a precedent
for, is lawful for a prince. I consider further, that Ely was a
bishopric of none of the first erections, but many years after the
conquest; so as England stood Christened without a bishop of Ely
from Augustine the monk above 500 year. It was a place also that the
crown had been jealous of for the strength of it, having sometime
held out the Conqueror, as our writers affirm; and King Hen. 3. a
wise and fortunate prince, said it was not fit for a cloister man.
And of late years Morton undertook to hold it against Richard the
third, for Hen. 7. Add hereunto, that though it was vacant in name,
yet the profits thereof may seem to have been perhaps more
charitably and honourably employed than before, to relieve the poor
distressed King of Portugal, who was called by some scholars of
Cambridge, Bishop of Ely, which is less scandalous than for Jeffrey 
Plantagenet to hold the bishopric of Lincoln 7 years, without
consecration, the sea being kept void 17 years; and for Ethelmar to
hold Winchester in like manner nine year in Hen. 3 time; to omit how
Stigand in the conqueror's time, and Wolsey in Hen. 8. time, both
held Winchester in commendam.<263> As for changing or abating the
possessions of it, the laws then in force allowed it, (though a most
godly law since hath restrained the like), and I would all the
bishoprics in England were but so well left. Now to come to Doctor
Heaton, he was compelled in a sort so to take it (for potentes cum
rogant jubent)<327> and as long as there was not quid dabis, nor hoc
dabis, but haec auferam,<328> the more public it was, and by
authority then lawful, he may be thought the more free from blame.
But were Ely as good as ever it was, it could not find the mouth's
bread that find fault with his taking it in that order.

Before his Majesty's coming to Oxford, in 1605 I was in Oxford
library, and some of good quality of both the universities; and one
of their chief doctors said merrily to a Cambridge man, that "Oxford
had formerly had good library, till such time as a Cambridge man
became our chancellor, and so cancelled our catalogue and scattered
our books, (he meant Bishop Cox in King Edward's time) as from that
time to this we could never recover them."<329> The other straight
replied, "then are you now even with us; for one of your Oxford men
hath sealed so many deeds of our good bishopric in Cambridgeshire,
that till they be cancelled, it will never be so good as it should
be." By his Christian name<330> also many take occasion to allude to
this matter, which whether for brevity sake he writ Mar or Mart, or
at full length Martin, always by adding Ely to it, it sounds to the
like sense, that either he did Mar it, or Mart it, or Martin it. But
he is too wise to be troubled with these toys.

Sapientis est nihil praestare praeter culpam.<331> If any fare the
worse for this now, ''tis himself. And as for his learning, and
other good parts belonging to a bishop, he is inferior to few of his
rank, as your Highness can tell, that heard him preach before the
King, and the last time I heard him, the Kings Majesty said of him,
that "fat men were wont to make lean sermons; but his were not lean,
but larded with much good learning." And so much of the bishopric
and Bishop of Ely.



BISHOPS OF LINCOLN:
Doctor William Chatterton.

Following mine author's method, I am next to speak of Lincoln, a
very large diocese, yet not so great a bishopric as it hath been;
which I suspect by the oft removes from it, as Bullingham, Cooper,
and Wickham, in Queen Elizabeth's time; and White, in Queen Mary's
time. I note also, that one of these removed to Worcester, namely
Bullingham, of which I can imagine no reason, except the largeness
of the diocese make it more painful, as indeed it would, if the
decrees made in a synod held by Saint Cuthbert in England were duly
observed: of which the third (as Mr. Foxe hath it) is, that every
bishop once every year, should go over all the parishes of his
diocese; with which decree by what authority men dispense, I know
not, but sure few do keep it.

This Doctor William Chatterton,<332> now Bishop of Lincoln, and
before of Chester, I may remember in Cambridge, a learned and grave
doctor; though for the gravity he could lay it aside when it pleased
him, even in the pulpit. It will not be forgotten in Cambridge while
he is remembered, how preaching one day in his younger years a
wedding sermon, which should indeed be festival, as the Merchant
Royal was at my Lord Hey's marriage, with which (being now in
print)<333> many a good husband doth endevour to edify his wife. I
say, Mr. Chatterton is reported to have made this pretty comparison,
and to have given this friendly caveat; that the choice of a wife
was full of hazard, not unlike, as if one in a barrel full of
serpents should grope for one fish; "if (saith he) he 'scape harm of
the snakes, and light on a fish, he may be thought fortunate, yet
let him not boast, for perhaps it may be but an eel," &c. Howbeit,
he married after himself; and, I doubt not, sped better than his
comparison. He was beloved among the scholars; and the rather, for
he did not affect any sour and austere fashion, either in teaching
or government; as some use to do; but well tempered both with
courage and courtesy. Being made bishop of Chester, he was a very
great friend to the house of Derby, preaching the funeral sermon of
Henry Earl of Derby; for some passages whereof he had like to be
called in question, though perhaps himself knew not so much. I was
present when one told a great lord that loved not Ferdinando the
last Earl of Derby, how this bishop having first magnified the dead
Earl for his fidelity, justice, wisdom, and such virtues, as made
him the best beloved man of his rank, (which praise was not
altogether undeserved) he after used this apostrophe to the Earl
present;—"And you (saith he) noble Earl, that not only inherit, but
exceed your father's virtues, learn to keep the love of your
country, as your father did; you give (saith he) in your arms, three
legs; know you what they signify? I tell you they signify three
shires, Cheshire, Derbyshire, and Lancashire; Stand you fast on
these three legs, and you shall need fear none of their arms." At
which this Earl a little moved, said in some heat, not without an
oath:—"his priest, I believe, hopes one day to make him three
curtsies." But the two earls I trust are friends now, both being
since departed this world, (though neither as I could have wished
them) the one dying of a yex;<334> the other of an axe.<335>

The bishop was removed to Lincoln, where he now remains, in very
good estate, having one only daughter married to a knight of good
worship, though now, they living asunder, he may be thought to have
had no great comfort of that matrimony, yet to her daughter he means
to leave a great patrimony; so as one might not unfitly apply that
epigram written of Pope Paulus and his daughter to this bishop and
his grandchild.

Cum sit filia, Paule, cum tibi aurum,
Quantum pontifices habere raros
Vidit Roma prius, patrem non possum
Sanctum dicere, sed possum beatum.<336>

Which I thus translated, when I thought not thus to apply it:

Thou hast a daughter Paulus, I am told;
And for this daughter store thou hast of gold:
The daughter thou didst get, the gold didst gather,
Make thee no holy, but an happy father.

But if the bishop should fortune to hear that I apply this verse
thus saucily, and should be offended with it, I would be glad in
full satisfaction of this wrong, to give him my son for his
daughter, which is a manifest token that I am in perfect charity
with him.



BISHOP OF COVENTRY AND LICHFIELD:
Doctor William Overton.

Of this bishopric may be observed that which I think happened to no
other in all Queen Elizabeth's reign, that from the first year of
her entrance (what time she made them all new) she never after gave
this bishopric but once, and that was to Doctor William
Overton,<337> the 21st year of her reign, he being then of good
years; so as one may probably conjecture, that he honoured his
parents well, because he hath the blessing promised to such, viz.
that his "days have been long in the land."<338> I can make no
special relation concerning him, but the general speech as I have
travelled through the country, which is not to be contemned; for,
vox populi, vox Dei est.<339> Two special things are commended in
him, which very few bishops are praised for in this age: one that he
keepth good hospitality for the poor; the other, that he keepeth his
houses in good reparation. Both which I have seldom heard a married
bishop commended for; and I will be bold to add this further, that
if they would do both these, I think no man would take exceptions
either for their marriage or bigamy. The churches also are very well
kept; and for those of Coventry, they are of parish churches the
fairest I have seen; though (as I partly noted before) they have had
sometimes another kind of superintendency, for the bishop keeps most
at Lichfield.

The pavement of Coventry church is almost all tombstones, and some
very ancient; but there came a zealous fellow with a counterfeit
commission, that, for avoiding of superstition, hath not left one
penny-worth, nor one penny-breadth of brass upon the tombs, of all
the inscriptions, which had been many and costly.

Further, I note this, that whereas in bishop Langton's time there
were many parks belonging to this see, in which the prince committed
some disorder in the time of Edw. I., now it is much altered, for he
hath not past two, the rest being perhaps turned to pastures, and
the deer into tamer beasts.



BISHOPS OF SALISBURY:
Doctor John Jewell.

Of how great account this bishopric had been in former times, two
things do specially declare: one, that ever since the conquest,
ordinale secundum usum Sarum<340> was received over all England;
another, that the clergy of Salisbury were able of their own charge
to erect such a goodly church, and stone steeple, as that which now
stands, which at this day a subsidy<341> were scant able to perform.
To omit how Sherborne Castle, and the Devizes were both built by one
bishop of Salisbury, and in this state it continued until the year
1539; what time Doctor Capon was translated from Bangor thither, a
man for learning and wit worthy to be of Apollo's crew; but for his
spoil and havoc he is said to have made of this church land, more
worthy to be Apollyon's crew; for he is noted to be one of the first
that made a capon of his bishopric, and so gelded it, that it will
never be able to build either church or castle again. The place
being in this sort much impoverished, bishop Jewell<342> was
preferred unto it, the first year of Queen Elisabeth; re gemma fuit,
nomine gemma fuit; "a jewel in deed, as in name". He, though he
could not maintain the port his predecessors did, finding his houses
decayed, and lands all leased out, yet kept very good hospitality,
and gave himself withal much to writing books, of which divers are
extant, in many men's hands, viz. his Apology of the Church of
England; his Challenge, answered by Harding; his Reply to the said
Answer; all in English, and all in such estimation, even till this
day, that as St. Osmond, in William the Conqueror's time, gave the
pattern for form of service to all the churches of England, so Mr.
Jewell's writings are a kind of rule to all the reformed churches of
England, and hardly is there any controversy of importance handled
at this day, of which in his works is not to be found some learned
and probable resolution. One thing I will specially commend him for,
(though I shall not be commended for it myself by some,) and that
is, whereas he defended the marriage of priests, no man better; yet
he would never marry himself saying, "Christ did not counsel in
vain, qui potest capere, capiat."<343> He had a very reverent regard
of the ancient fathers' writings, and especially St. Augustine, out
of whose books he found many authorities against some superstitions
crept into the Roman Church. Why he had such a mind to lie by Bishop
Wivill, I cannot guess, except that perhaps of his name<344> he had
taken a caveat, to keep himself without a wife. For the whole course
of his life from his childhood, of his towardliness from the
beginning, and how he was urged to subscribe in Q. Mary's time, and
did so, being required to write his name, saying, they should see he
could write, (which showed it was not ex animo <345>) Doctor
Humfrey<346> hath written a several treatise.



BISHOPS OF SALISBURY:
Doctor John Coldwell, Doctor of Physick.

Though Doctor Guest succeeded Bishop Jewell, and my author makes him
a good writer, yet he shall not be my guest in this discourse,
having nothing to entertain him with, or rather your Highness with,
in reading of him. But how his successor, Dr. Coldwell,<347> of a
physician became a bishop, I have heard by more than a good many,
(as they say) and I will briefly handle it, and as tenderly as I
can, bearing myself equal between the living and the dead. I touched
before how this church had surfeited of a capon, which lying heavy
in her stomach, it may be thought she had some need of a physician.
But this man proved no good church physician. Had she been sick of a
pleurisy, too much abounding with blood as in ages past, then such
bleeding physic perhaps might have done it no harm. Now inclining
rather to a consumption: to let it bleed afresh at so large a vein,
was almost enough to draw out the very life-blood; (your Highness
will pardon my physic metaphors, because I have lately looked over
my Schola Salerni<348>) I protest I am far from any desire to deface
the dead undeservedly, and as far from any fancy to insult on the
misfortunes of the living uncivilly; and in my particular, the dead
man I speak of never hurt me, and the living man I shall speak of
hath done me some kindnes; yetthe manifest judgments of God on both
of them I may not pass over with silence.

And to speak first of the Knight<349> that carried the spolia
opima<350> of this bishopric; having gotten Sherborne castle, park,
and parsonage; he was in those days in so great favour with the
Queen, as I may boldly say, that with less suit than he was fain to
make to her ere he could perfect this his purchase, and with less
money than he bestowed in Sherborne, in building and buying out
leases and in drawing the river through rocks into his garden, he
might have very justly, and without offence, of church or state,
have compassed a much better purchase.

Also, if I have been truly informed, he had a presage before he
first attempted it, that did foreshow it would turn to his ruin, and
might have kept him from meddling with it, si mens non laeva
fuisset;<351> for as he was riding post between Plymouth and the
court, as many times he did upon no small employments, this castle
being right in the way, he cast such an eye upon it as Ahab did upon
Naboth's vineyard; and once above the rest, being talking of it, of
the commodiousness of the place, of the strength of the seat, and
how easily it might be got from the bishopric; suddenly, over and
over came his horse, that his very face, which was then thought a
very good face, plowed up the earth where he fell. This fall was
ominous; I make no question, as the like was observed in the Lord
Hastings,<352> and before him in others; and himself was apt enough
to construe it so; but his brother Adrian<353> would needs have him
interpret it not as a courtier but as a conqueror, that it presaged
the quiet possession of it. And accordingly for the present that
fell out, he got it with much labour; and travail, and cost, and
envy, and obloquies to him and his heirs, habendum et tenendum,<354>
but ere it came fully to gaudendum, see what became of him.—In the
public joy and jubile of the whole realm, when favour and peace and
pardon was offered even to offenders, he that in wit, and wealth,
and courage was inferior to few, fell suddenly. (I cannot tell how)
into such a downfall of despair as his greatest enemy could not have
wished him so much harm as he would have done himself. Can any man
he so wilful blind, as not to see and to say, digitus Dei est hic,
"that it is Gods doing," and his judgement; which appears yet also
more plain by the sequel. For by St. Augustine's rule, when
adversity breeds amendment, then it is a sign it is of God's
sending, who would not have our correction turn to our confusion: So
happened it to this knight, being condemned to die, yet God (in
whose hand is the heart of the king,) put into his merciful mind
against man's expectation to save his life; and since, by the suit
of his faithful wife, both to preserve his estate, and to ease his
restraint in such sort, as many that are at liberty taste not
greater comforts than he doth in prison, being not barred of those
companions (I mean books) that he may and perhaps doth take more
true comfort of, than ever he took of his courtly companions in his
chiefest bravery. Neither is he without hope, that upon his true
repentance, God may yet add further, to incline his Majesty (ere 7
times go over his head) to restore him to a full liberty.

Now to return to the bishop that was the second party delinquent, in
this petty larceny, or rather plain sacrilege. What was his purpose?
To make himself rich by making his see poor? Attained he his purpose
herein? Nothing less: no bishop of Sarum since the conquest died so
notoriously in debt: his friends glad to bury him suddenly and
secretly, sine Lux, sine Crux, sine Clenco, as the old by-word is,
being, for haste belike, clapped into Bishop Wivill's grave, that
even at the resurrection, he may be ready to accuse him and say, "I
recovered Sherborne from a King, when it had been wrongfully
detained 200 year, and thou didst betray it to a knight, after it
had been quietly possessed other 200 year." Some might imagine this
a presage that Sherborne may one day revert again to the bishopric.
But there is a sign in hydromancy<355> against it. For in digging
the grave (for all the haste was made) so great a spring broke into
it, as filled it all with water, and quite washed away the presage;
so as the dead bishop was drowned before he could be buried, and
according to his name laid in cold well before he was covered with
the cold earth.



BISHOPS OF SALISBURY:
Doctor Henry Cotton.

This bishopric being now reduced to a mediocrity more worthy of pity
than envy, her Majesty (as I have heard) made a special choice of
this her chaplain,<356> being a gentleman of a worshipful house, and
her godson when she was Lady Elizabeth, whereupon it is reported
that she said, "that she had blessed many of her godsons, but now
this godson should bless her." Whether she were the better for his
blessing I know not, but I am sure he was the better for hers. The
common voice was, Sir Walter Raleigh got the best blessing of him;
though (as I said before) I rather count it a curse to have his
estate in Sherborne to be confirmed, that before was questionable.
But it was his wisest way, rather than to have a potent enemy and a
tedious suit. He married very young; for I was told some years
since, he had 19 children by one woman, which is no ordinary
blessing, and most of them sons. A man that had three sons or more
among the ancient Romans, enjoyed thereby no small privileges,<357>
though the latter Romans make it not a merit in a bishop. His wife's
name was Patience, the name of which I have heard in few wives, the
quality in none. He hath one son blind, (I know not if by birth, or
accident,) but though his eyes be blind, he hath an understanding so
illuminate, as he is like to prove the best scholar of all his
brethren. One special commendation I may not omit, how by this good
bishop's means, and by the assistance of the learned Dean of Sarum,
Doctor Gourden,<358> a seminary<359> called Mr. Carpenter, a good
scholar, and in degree a bachelor of divinity, was converted, and
testified his own conversion publicly in a sermon upon this text,
Acts 9:18 "There fell as it were scales from his eyes;" saying, that
three scales had bleared his sight, viz. antiquity, universality,
and consent; but now the scales being fallen away, he saw plainly,
their antiquity was novelty, their universality a babylonical
tyranny, and their consent a conspiracy. And thus much be said of my
god-brother, and (be it said without presumption) your Highness'
god-brother, Doctor Henry Cotton.



BISHOPS OF BATH AND WELLS:
Doctor Oliver King.

Concerning Bath I have such plenty of matter to entertain your
Highness with, (I mean variety of discourse,) as I study rather how
to abbreviate it, than how to amplify it.<360> I should have begun
at Bishop Barlow, but I respect so much the very name of King,<361>
as I could not let him pass without some homage; and because the
chief bath of which the town hath the name is called the King's
bath, I shall add somewhat also, either omitted, or but slightly
touched in the precedent book, by mine author; but somewhat more
largely handled in the Latin treatise mentioned by him, page 307, in
the Life of Stillington, out of which I will cite a passage or two
as occasion shall serve.

First, therefore, for the city of Bath, to omit all the antiquities
noted by Mr. Camden and other good authors, as also seen by myself,
I observe this, that among all our old traditions and legends
thereof, it seemeth as it were purposely left in suspense, and not
yet fully determined, whether the crown or the mitre have more claim
to the virtue that all men see and say to be in these waters. Some
affirm that King Bladud, a learned King, brought up at Athens, long
before Christ's time, either by his cunning in magic did frame it,
or rather by his search did find it, or at least with his cost did
first found it. Others believe that King Arthur's uncle St. David, a
bishop of Wales, that lived longer with leeks than we do now with
larks and quails, by his prayer procured this virtue to these
springs. But this is manifest by most credible histories, that King
Offa, King of Mercia, built a goodly abbey there, where before had
been a temple of Minerva and Hercules, whom they feigned to be
presidents of hot baths. This monastery, builded by Offa 775, was
destroyed by the Danes (being then no Christians) about the year
900. Then it was re-edified by Elphegus a bishop of Canterbury, An.
1010, and continued in great estimation for a place of holy and
strict life, but had not yet the title of a bishopric, till John de
Villula, a Frenchman born and a physician by profession, being made
Bishop of Wells,<362> which was in Latin, de Fontibus, admiring the
virtues of these baths, and the cures they wrought, for which it had
been long before by the Saxons surnamed Akman Chester, that is sick-
man's town. This Villula thinking this place de Fontibus, more
honourable than the other called Wells, bought this city of King
William Rufus, and translated his seat thither. And finding that
both the town and abbey had been late before defaced with fire, he
new built both about the year 1122, and was the first bishop that
was buried there.

Then was it again burned in the year 1157, and repaired again by
Bishop Robert, and remained still the bishop's seat and inheritance,
till that bankrupt Bishop Savaricus, for covetousness of
Glastonbury, in mercedem hujus unionis, (to use my author's word)
"for recompense of this union" of Glastonbury to Wells, gave Bath
again to King Richard the First, and yet notwithstanding these two
huge revenues, he spent so prodigally and unprovidently in his many
journeys to the Emperor, that it is written he had a legion of
creditors, and for his wandering humour he had this written for an
epitaph, though not set to his tomb at Bath:

Hospes eras mundo,
Per mundum semper eundo,
Sic suprema dies
Fit tibi prima quies.<363>

Thus Bath again after 100 years, became the King's, and ever may it
be so.

But the church was not so sufficiently repaired as it ought, in so
much that in Henry 7. his time it was ready to fall, what time this
worthy Oliver King, about 100 years since, built it again with so
goodly a fabric as the stonework stands yet firm, notwithstanding
the injuries of men, and time, and tempests upon it.

Here I may by no means omit, yet I can scant tell how to relate, the
pretty tales that are told of this bishop King, by what visions, and
predictions, he was encouraged and discouraged in the building of
this church, whether some cunning woman had foretold him of the
spoil that followed, (as Paulus Jovius writes<364> how a witch
deceived his next successor Hadrian, bishop of Bath,) or whether his
own mind running of it, gave him occasion, sleeping, to dream of
that he thought waking; but this goes for current and confirmed with
pretty probabillities;—that lying at Bath, and musing or meditating
one night late, after his devotions and prayers for the prosperity
of Henry 7th and his children, (who were then all or most part
living,) to which king he was principal secretary, and by him
preferred to his bishopric; he saw, or supposed he saw, a vision of
the holy Trinity with angels ascending and descending by a ladder,
near to the foot of which there was a fair olive tree supporting a
crown, and a voice that said "Let an Olive establish the crown; and
let a King restore the church." Of this dream, or vision, he took
exceeding great comfort, and told it divers of his friends, applying
it to the King his master in part, and some part to himself. To his
master, because the olive being the emblem or hieroglyphic of peace
and plenty, seemed to him to allude to King Henry VIIth, who was
worthily counted the wisest and most peaceable king in all Europe of
that age. To himself, (for the wisest will flatter themselves
sometime,) because he was not only a chief councillor to this king,
and had been his ambassador to conclude the most honourable peace
with Charles the 8, who paid (as Hollinshed writeth) 745 thousand
ducats, beside a yearly tribute of 25000 crowns, but also he carried
both the Olive and King in his own name; and therefore thought he
was specially designed for this church-work, to the advancement of
which he had an extraordinary inclination. Thus though (as St.
Thomas Aquinas well noteth) all dreams, be they never so sensible,
will be found to halt in some part of their coherence; and so
perhaps may this; yet most certain it is, he was so transported with
his dream, for the time, that he presently set in hand with this
church (the ruins whereof I rue to behold even in writing these
lines) and at the west end thereof he caused a representation to be
graved of this his vision of the Trinity, the angels, and the
ladder, and on the north side the olive and crown, with certain
French words, which I could not read, but in English is this verse
taken out of the book of Judges, chap. 9.

Trees going to choose their king
Said, be to us the Olive King.

All which is so curiously cut and carved, as in the west part of
England is no better work than in the west end of this poor church;
and to make the credit of all this more authentic, he added this
word to it, de sursum est, "it is from on high." Thus much the
stones and walls (though dumb witnesses, yet credible,) do plainly
testify. But in midst of all this jollity, having made so fair a
beginning to his own great content, and no less to the king's, who
came into this country at that time, and lay at the Dean of Wells
his house nine days; I say, in all this joy and comfort, it happened
the kings primogenitus, the noble Prince Arthur (having lately
before married a great Infanta of Spain,) to depart this life.<365>
This so daunted the heart and hopes of this good bishop, that he
doubted now his vision would prove but an illusion, that his Oliva
would be but an Oleaster; which melancholy thoughts were increased
in him by the predictions, as I touched before, of some wizards (to
which kind of men that age was much affected) concerning the new
prince who was after Henry 8, of his unfortunate marriages, of the
decay of his offspring, that he should pull down what kings had
builded, which no marvel if the bishop, being by surname King,
mistrusted to pertain also to his buildings. I heard by one Flower
of Phillip's-Norton, who said he saw Henry 7th in this country, that
this bishop would wish he had paid above the price of it, so it
might have been finished, for if he ended it not, it would be pulled
down ere it were perfected.

As for the latter predictions or rather post-fictions (since this
bishop's death) I willingly omit, concerning the successors of this
bishop, as things worthier to be contemned than condemned, written
by cole-prophets,<254> upon whited walls, which the Italian calls,
"the paper of fools," muro bianco charta di matto; of which sort
many have been made as well by our own countrymen as others; but the
best I remember was this, written by an English gentleman, since the
43d year of Queen Elizabeth, on the church wall with a charcoal.

O Church! I wail thy woeful plight,
Whom king nor cardinal, clerk nor knight
Have yet restored to ancient right.
—Subscribed Ignoto.

Whereto a captain of another country wrote this for the comfort of
this church; and I wish him to prove a true prophet, though perhaps
he died rather a martyr.

Be blithe, fair kerk, when hemp is past,
Thine Olive, that ill winds did blast,
Shall flourish green, for ay to last.
—Subscribed Cassadore.

But to proceed in this sad story, and leave this pleasant poetry, to
pursue truths and eschew fictions, to embrace reason and refuse
rhyme; it is most apparent that after the death of this Oliver King,
his successors Cardinal Adrian, Cardinal Wolsey, Bishop Clerk, and
Bishop Knight, all succeeded in 35 years, of which the first two
were supposed to poison themselves,<366> the third to be poisoned by
others, the last survived to see the death, or at least the deadly
wound of this church; for while the builders were ready to have
finished it, the destroyers came to demolish it. Yet, to give the
Devil his right, (as the proverb is) it is said that the
commissioners in reverence and compassion of the place, did so far
strain their commission, that they offered to sell the whole church
to the town under 500 marks. But the townsmen fearing they might be
thought to cozen the King, if they bought it so cheap, or that it
might after (as many things were) be found concealed, utterly
refused it. Whereupon certain merchants bought all the glass, iron,
bells, and lead, of which lead alone was accounted for (as I have
credibly heard) 490 ton, worth at this day 4800l. But what became of
these spoils and spoilers,

Desit in hac mihi parte fides, neque credite factum;
Aut, si creditis, facti quoque credite pœnam.<367>

For I may well say, non possum quin exclamem.<368> But in a word,
soon after the sellers lost their heads, the buyers lost their
goods, being laid up in the great treasury of Antichrist, I mean
drownd in the sea, from whence (as some write) by the Devil's power,
he shall recover all lost treasures, for the maintaining of his
unmeasurable gifts.

Thus speedily it was pulled down, but how slow it hath risen again,
I may blush to write. Collections have been made over all England,
with which the chancel is covered with blue slate, and an alms-house
built, ex abundantia;<369> but the whole body of the church stands
bare, ex humilitate.<370> The rest of the money never coming to the
townsmen's hands, is laid up (as I suppose) with the money collected
for Paul's steeple, which I leave to a melius inquirendum.<371> And
thus the church lies still, like the poor traveller mentioned in the
10. of Luke, spoiled and wounded by thieves. The priest goes by, the
levites go by, but do nothing: only a good Samaritan, honest Mr.
Billet,<190> (worthy to be billeted in the new Jerusalem) hath
poured some oil in the wounds, and maintained it in life. Insomuch
as a wealthy citizen of London, hath adventured to set his tomb
there, whom I commend more worthily than the senate of Rome did
thank Varro, at his return from Cannae, quod de salute reipublicae
non desperasset;<372> for it seems this honest citizen did not
despair of the re-edifying this church, that gave order to be richly
entombed therein;—and thus much be said of the first founder of this
last church of Bath.



BISHOPS OF BATH AND WELLS:
Doctor William Barlow.

The next I am to write of is Bishop Barlow,<373> of whom my author
in this book saith little; in the Latin Treatise<374> there is
somewhat more, and I will add a word to both. Bath (as I have noted
before) is but a title in this bishopric, so as for many years Bath
had the name, but Wells had the game: but yet that one may know they
be sisters, your Highness shall understand that this game I speak of
which was one of the fairest of England, by certain booty play
between a protector and a bishop, (I suppose it was at tick-
tack<375>), was like to have been lost with a why not? and, to use
rather another man's words than mine own to explain this riddle;
thus saith the Latin relation of him:—"He was a man no less godly
than learned, but not so remarkable in any thing as in his fortunate
offspring, for which Niobe and Latona might envy him, happy in his
own children, more happy in their matches. To let pass his sons, (of
whom one is now Prebend in Wells, and esteemed most worthy of such a
father;) he had five daughters whom he bestowed on five most worthy
men, of which three are bishops at this hour;<376> the other, for
their merit, are in men's expectation designed to the like dignity
hereafter. Howbeit (saith he) in one thing this prelate is to be
deemed unfortunate, that while he was bishop his see received so
great a blow, losing, at one clap, all the rents and revenues
belonging to it." Thus he; and soon after he tells, that for his
marriage he was deprived, and lived as a man banished in Germany.
Here is his praise, here is his dispraise. If he were deprived for a
lawful act, no marvel if he be deprived for an unlawful. Sith then
my author compares his felicity with that of Niobe, I will also
compare his misfortune with Peleus, making Ovid's verse to serve my
turn, in changing but a word or two.

Felix et natis, felix et conjuge, Barlo, 
Et cui, si demas spoliati crimina templi
Omnia contigerant; hoc tanto crimine sontem
Accepit profugum patria Germanica tellus.<377>


But God would not suffer this morsel to be quite swallowed, but that
it choked the feeders; to say nothing in this place, but how the
protector was foretold by a poet, that he should lose his head.
Aestatis sedes, qui sacras diruis aedes;
Pro certo credes, quod Cephas perdere debes.<378>

I speak now only of the spoil made under this bishop. Scarce were
five years past after Bath's ruins; but as fast went the axes and
hammers to work at Wells. The goodly hall covered with lead (because
the roof might seem too low for so large a room) was uncovered, and
now this roof reaches to the sky. The chapel of our Lady, late
repaired by Stillington, a place of great reverence and antiquity,
was likewise defaced, and such was their thirst after lead (I would
they had drunk it scalding) that they took the dead bodies of
bishops out of their leaden coffins, and cast abroad the carcases
scarce thoroughly putrefied. The statues of brass, and all the
ancient monuments of kings, benefactors to that goodly cathedral
church, went all the same way, sold (as my author writes) to an
Alderman of London, who being then rich, and by this great bargain,
thinking to have increased it, found it like aurum Tholosanum; <379>
for he so decayed after, no man knew how, that he broke in his
mayoralty. The statues of kings were shipped from Bristol, but
disdaining to be banished out of their own country, chose rather to
lie in St. George his Channel where the ship was drown'd. Let
atheists laugh at such losses, and call them mischances; but all
that truly fear God will count them terrible judgements.

These things were I will not say done, I wilt say, at least,
suffered, by this bishop; but I doubt not but he repented hereof,
and did, penance also in his banishment in sacco et cinere.<380>

But some will say to me, why did he not sue to be restored to this
bishopric at his return, finding it vacant, but rather accepted of
Chichester? I have asked this question, and I have received this
answer, by which I am half persuaded, that Wells also had their
prophecies as well as Bath, and that this bishop was premonstrated
(that I may not say predestinate) to give this great wound to this
bishopric. There remain yet in the body of Wells church about 30
foot high, two eminent images of stone, set there (as is thought) by
Bishop Burnell, that built the great hall there in the reign of Ed.
1. but most certainly, long before the reign of Hen. 8. One of these
images is of a king crowned, the other is of a bishop mitred. This
king, in all proportions resembling Hen. 8. holdeth in his hand a
child falling, the bishop hath a woman and children about him. Now
the old men of Wells had a tradition, that when there should be such
a king, and such a bishop, then the church should be in danger of
ruin. This falling child, they said, was King Edward, the fruitful
Bishop, they affirmed was Dr. Barlow, the first married bishop of
Wells, and perhaps of England. This talk being rife in Wells in
Queen Mary's time, made him rather affect Chichester, at his return,
than Wells, where not only the things that were ruined, but those
that remained, served for records and remembrances of his sacrilege.



BISHOPS OF BATH AND WELLS:
Doctor Thomas Godwin.

Of Bishop Gilbert Bourne<381> I can add nothing, and of the other
Gilbert<382> but a word, that he was a good justicer, as saith the
same author, nisi quatenus homo uxorius conjugis importunitate
impulsus a veri ac recti tramite aberravit, "saving that sometimes
being ruled by his wife, by her importunity he swerved from the rule
of justice and sincerity," especially in persecuting the kindred of
Bourne his predecessor. The fame went that he died very rich, but
the same importunate woman carried it all away, that neither church
nor the poor were the better for it.

But for Doctor Godwin,<383> of whom I am to speak, I must (with my
authors leave) add a word of mine own knowledge. He came to the
place as well qualified for a bishop as might be, unreproveably
without simony, given to good hospitality, quiet, kind, affable, a
widower, and in the Queen's very good opinion, non minor est virtus
quam quaerere parte tueri.<384> If he had held on as clear as he
entered, I should have as highly extolled him: but see his
misfortune, that first lost him the Queen's favor, and after forced
him to another mischief.

Being, as I said, aged, and diseased, and lame of the gout, he
married (as some thought for opinion of wealth) a widow of London. A
chief favourite<385> of that time. (whom I am sorry to have occasion
to name again in this kind) had laboured to get the manor of Banwell
from this bishopric, and disdaining the repulse, now earing this
intempestive<386> marriage, took advantage thereof, caused it to be
told to the Queen, (knowing how much she misliked such matches) and
instantly pursued the bishop with letters and mandates for the manor
of Banwell for 100 years. The, good bishop not expecting such a
sudden tempest, was greatly perplexed, yet a while he held out, and
endured many sharp messages from the Queen, of which myself caried
him one, delivered me by my Lord of Leicester, who seemed to favor
the bishop, and mislike with the knight for molesting him; but they
were soon agreed, like Pilate and Herod to condemn Christ.

Never was harmless man so traduced to his Sovereign, that he had
married a girl of twenty year old, with a great portion, that he had
conveyed half the bishopric to her, that (because he had the gout)
he could not stand to his marriage; with such scoffs to make him
ridiculous to the vulgar, and odious to the Queen.

The good Earl of Bedford happening to be present when these tales
were told, and knowing the Londoner's widow that the bishop had
married, said, merily to the Queen, after his dry manner, "Madam, I
know not how much the woman is above twenty, but I know a son of
hers is but little under forty;" but this rather marred than mended
the matter. One said, majus peccatum habet:<387> another told of
three sorts of Marriage; of God's making, of man's making, and of
the Devil's making: of God's making; as when Adam and Eve; two young
folk, were coupled; of man's making; When one is old and the other
young, as Joseph's marriage; and of the devil's making, when two old
folk marry not for comfort, but for covetousness: and such they said
was this. The conclusion to the premises was this; that to pacify
his persecutors, and to save Banwell, he was fain to part with
Wilscombe for 99 years (I would it had been 100,) and so purchased
his peace. Thus the bishopric, as well as the bishop were punished,
who wished in his heart he had never taken this preferment to foil
himself in his decrepit age, with that stain that all his life he
had abhorred; and to be made an instrument of another man's
sacrilege,<388> and used like a leaden conduit pipe to convey water
to others, and drink nothing but the dregs and dross and rust
itself. Wherefore right honestly, and modestly, and no less
learnedly, writes his own son of him in the forenamed treatise, O
illum fœlicem, si fœlix manere maluisset, quam regiminis
ecclesiastici labores tum suscipere, cum laboribus impar fractus
senio necessum illi fuerit aliorum uti auxilio, &c. "O happy he, if
he would rather have remained happy where he was, than to undergo
the labours of ecclesiastical government; when he grew unable to
travel, broken with age, constrained to use the help of others; who
though their duty required a care of so good-natured an old man, yet
they proving (as most do) negligent of others' good, and too greedy
of their own, overthrew both."

For my part, though I loved him well, and some of his, yet in this
case I can make no other apology for him, nor use no other plea in
his defence, but such as ill debtors do, that when they are sued
upon just occasions, plead per minas;<389> or, rather, to liken him
to a husbandman, that dwelling near a judge that was a great
builder, and coming one day amongst divers other neighbors with
carriages, some of stone, some of timber; the steward (as the manner
of the country was,) provided two tables for their dinners; for
those that came upon request,<390> powdered beef<391> and perhaps
venison; Those that came for hire, poor John<392> and apple-pies;
and having invited them to sit down in his lord's name, telling them
one board was for them that came for love, the other for those that
came for money; this husbandman and his hind<393> sat not down at
either, which the steward imputing to simplicity, repeated his
former words again, praying them sit down accordingly; but he
answered (for there is craft in the clouted shoe) he saw no table
for him, for he came neither for love nor money, but for very fear:
and even so I dare answer for this bishop, he neither gave Wilscombe
for love, nor sold it for money, but left it for fear.

How strangely he was entrapped in that unfit marriage, I know not;
if it may called a marriage:

Non Hymeneus adest illi, non Gratia lecto.<394>

Himself protested to me with tears in his eyes, "he took her but for
a guide of his house, and for the rest (they were his own words) he
lived with her as Joseph did with Mary, our lady." Setting this one
disgrace of his aside, he was a man very well esteemed in the
country, beloved of all men for his great housekeeping; of the
better sort, for his kind entertainment and pleasing discourse at
his table. His reading had been much, his judgement and doctrine
sound, his government mild and not violent, his mind charitable, and
therefore I doubt not but when he lost this life, he won heaven
according to his word, win God, win all.<395> This I say truly of
him, which his son was not so fit to say, for fear perhap of that
foolish saying, (yet wise enough if it be well understood) nemo
laudat patrem nisi improbus filius.<396>



BISHOPS OF BATH AND WELLS:
Doctor John Still.

But what style shall I use to set forth this Still,<397> whom (well
nigh 30 years since) my reverend tutor<398> in Cambridge styled by
this name, "Divine Still;" who, when myself came to him to sue for
my grace to be bachelor, first examined me strictly, and after
answered me, kindly, that "the grace he granted me was not of grace,
but of merit;" who was often content to grace my young exercises
with his venerable presence; who, from that time to this, hath given
me some helps, more hopes, all encouragements in my best studies; to
whom I never came, but I grew more religious; from whom I never
went, but I parted better instructed. Of him therefore, my
acquaintance, my friend, my instructor, and lastly my diocesan; if I
speak much it were not to be marvelled; if I speak frankly, it is
not to be blamed; and though I speak partialy, it were to be
pardoned. Yet to keep within my proportion, custom, and promise, in
all these; I must say this much of him; his breeding was from his
childhood in good literature, and partly in music, which was counted
in those days a preparative to divinity, neither could any be
admitted to primam tonsuram,<399> except he could first bene le,
bene con, bene can, (as they call it,) which is "to read well, to
construe well, and to sing well;" in which last he hath good
judgement, and I have heard good music of voices in his house.

In his full time, more full of learning, he became bachelor of
divinity, and after doctor, and so famous for a preacher, and
specially a disputer, that the learnedest were even affeared to
dispute with him; and he finding his own strength would not stick to
warn them in their arguments to take heed to their answers; like a
perfect fencer that will tell aforehand in which button he will give
the venue,<400> or like a cunning chess-player that will appoint
aforehand with which pawn, and in what place, he will give the mate.
And not to insist long in a matter so notorious, it may suffice that
about 20 year since when the great diet or meeting, should have been
in Germany, for composing matters in religion; Doctor Still was
chosen for Cambridge, and Doctor Humphrey<401> for Oxford, to oppose
all comers for defence of the English church. For this, his known
sufficiency, he was not long unfurnished of double honour.<402> The
puritans in Cambridge wooed him, and would fain have won him to
their part; and seeing they could not, they forbore not in the
pulpit, after their fashion, to glance at him, among others, with
their equivocations and epigrams. There was one Mr. Key that
offended them, and one said in a sermon, that of all complexions the
worst were such as were key-cold; and in the same sermon and like
vein, he said that some could not be contented with a living worth
100l. a year, another worth six score, but Still will have more. But
howsoever they snarled, this Still was counted well worthy of more,
so as in the year 1592, being the 34th of the late Queen, he was
preferred to this see, after it had been vacant well nigh 3 year.
During the vacancy, I can well remember, there was great enquiring
who should have it; and, as if all bishops should now be sworn to
follow usum Sarum,<340> every man made reckoning that the manor-
house and park of Banwell should be made a reward of some courtier.
It increased also this suspicion that Thomas Henneage,<403> an old
courtier, and zealous puritan, was said to have an oar in the
matter, whose conscience, if it were such in the clergy, as it was
found in the duchy, might well have disgested a better booty than
Banwell. But when it was notified once who was named to it, I had
better conceit, and straight I wrote to him, as of old Cambridge
acquaintance, and in such rusty Latin as I had left, gave him
warning of this rumour, which he took exceeding kindly at my hands,
though some other frowned on me for it, many months after. So that
for his entry to it, I may boldly say that I said before of his
predecessor, that he came clearly to it without any touch or
scandal, that he brought a good report from the places where he had
lived, showed himself well natured and courteous to the kindred of
his predecessor, had a far greater fame of learning and merit, and
(which the Queen liked best of all;) was single and a widower. Nay,
I may compare them yet further, he married also soon after he was
settled, and the Queen was nothing well pleased with his marriage:
Howbeit, in all indifferent censures this marriage was much more
justifiable than the other, for age, for use, for end; he being not
too old, nor she too young, being daughter to a worshipful knight of
the same country and a great houskeeper, and drawing with her a kind
of alliance with judge Popham, that swayed all the temporal
government of the country. These respects, though I will not strive
greatly to praise in a bishop, yet the common sort will allow no
doubt for wise and provident; so as the Queen's displeasure, (the
times being somewhat more propitious and favourable to bishoprics
since Bishop Wickham's sermon) was the easier pacified without so
costly a sacrifice as a whole manor, and she contented herself only
to break a jest upon the name of the bishop's wife, saying to Sir
Henry Barkley, "it was a dangerous name for a bishop to match with a
Horner."<404> Since which time, he hath preached before her more
than once, and hath received good testimonies of her good opinion,
and God hath also blessed him many ways very greatly, to see his
children well brought up, well bestowed, and to have an unexpected
revenue, out of the entrails of the earth (I mean the lead mines of
Mendip) greater than his predecessor had above ground; so as this
bishop seems to be blessed with Joseph's blessing, benedictionibus
caeli sursum, benedictionibus abyssi jacentis deorsum,
benedictionibus uberis et vulvae; Gen. 49:25. "with blessings from
heaven above, blessings from the deep that lieth beneath, blessings
of the breasts and of the womb." Which fortunate increase of living
happening to a provident man, that was ever homo frugi,<405> it is
supposed hath brought him to a great ability: insomuch, that this
church of Bath seemes to conceive some hope that he will have
compassion of her ruins, at the least; (as Sir Arthur Hopton,<406> a
good knight of the Bath, was wont between earnest and sport to
motion unto him) "to give toward it but the lead to cover it, which
would cost him nothing." But he would. reply again, "Well said,
gentle Sir Arthur, you will coff<407> me as you scoff me." which is
no great token that he liked the motion. Yet at his being at Bath he
promised them very fair, which they were bold to remember him of
sometime by their friends. One trifling accident happened to his
lordship there, that I have thought since of more consequence, and I
tell him that I never knew him nonplussed in argument, but there.
There was a craftsman in Bath, a recusant puritan, who condemning
our church, our bishops, our sacraments, our prayers, was condemned
himself to die at the assizes, but at my request Judge Anderson<408>
reprieved him, and he was suffered to remain at Bath upon bail. The
bishop conferred with him, in hope to convert him; and first, my
lord alleged for the authority of the church, St. Augustine. The
shoemaker answered, "Austin was but a man." He [Still] produced, for
antiquity of bishops, the fathers of the council of Nice. He
answered, "They were also but men, and might err." "Why, then, said
the bishop; thou art but a man; and mayest and dost err." "No Sir,
saith he, the Spirit bears witness to my spirit, I am the child of
God." "Alas, said the bishop, thy blind spirit will lead thee to the
gallows." "If I die," saith he, "in the Lord's cause, I shall be a
martyr." The bishop turning to me, stirred as much to pity as
impatience;—"This man, said he, "is not a sheep strayed from the
fold, for such may be brought in again on the shepherd's shoulders,
but this is like a wilde buck broken out of a park, whose pale is
thrown down, that flies the farther off, the more he is hunted." Yet
this man, that stopped his ears like the adder to the charms of the
bishop, was after persuaded by a layman, and grew conformable. But
to draw to an end: in one question this. bishop, whom I count an
oracle for learning, would never yet give me satisfaction, and that
was, when I asked him his opinion of witches. He saith, "he knows
other men's opinions, both old and new writers, but could never so
digest them, to make them an opinion of his own." All I can get is
this, "that the devil is the old serpent, our enemy, that we pray to
be delivered from daily; as willing to have us think he can do too
much, as to have us persuaded he doth nothing." To conclude of this
bishop, without flattery, I hold him a rare man for preaching, for
arguing, for learning, for living; I could only wish, that in these
he would make less use of logic, and more of rhetoric.



BISHOPS OF EXETER:
Doctor William Cotton.

<409>When I reflect my thought and eye upon that I have formerly
written, and see that I am like to equal, or rather exceed my author
in quantity of volume, (taking the proportion of the longest king's
reign to that of Queen Elizabeth,) I am the less troubled to think,
that for lack of sufficient intelligence, I shall be constrained to
do as he hath also done with divers of those former bishops, namely,
to obscure and omit the good deserts of some, and to conceal and
hide the demerits of others; which if I fortune to do, yet will I
neither crave pardon of the one, nor thanks of the other; being to
be excused of both by an invincible ignorance. Howbeit, if in these
I have, or shall treat of, I have been so plain and liberal, as
thereby I may move the spleen of some bishop against me, to write as
Bishop Jovius did against Pietro Aretino,<410> whom notwithstanding
some Italians call unico & divino, whose epitaph Paulus Jovius made
thus, the man being long after alive,

Qui giace l'Aretino, l'amoro Tosco,
Che besthemia ogniuno fuor che Dio,
Seusandoi, con il dire non lo cognosco.<411>

Which one did put thus into English:

Here lieth Aretine, that poisonous toad,
Whose spiteful tongue and pen (all saints beshrew him,)
Did rail on priest, and prince, and all but God
And said, (for his excuse,) I do not know him.

I say, if any should follow this humour of Jovius, yet shall he not
thereby put me into the humour of Aretine, that answered him. For I
reverence all their places, and many of their persons. I know how
high their calling is, that may say, pro Christo legatione
fungimur:<412> know that next to kings, bishops are most sacred
persons, and as it were gods on earth; howbeit, also, some of them
have the imperfections of men, and those not prejudicial to the acts
of their office. For my part, I would I could speak much good of
all, and no ill of any; and say (for mine excuse) I do not know
them.

Accordingly of the bishopric and bishop of Exeter, I can say but
little, namely, that it is since bishop Harman's<413> time (as my
author noted, pag. 337,) reduced to a good mediocrity, from one of
the best bishoprics of England; so as now it is rather worthy of
pity than envy, having but two manors left of 22. And I will add
thus much to your Highness, that as in public respect I wish and
hope you will favour all bishops, so, in a private respect, your
Highness should specially favor this bishop, in whose diocese your
duchy of Cornwall, and your stannaries<414> are; so the duke may
uphold the bishop, and the reverent bishop may bless the duke.



BISHOP OF NORWICH:
Doctor John Gegon.

Concerning Norwich, whether it be the praise of the bishops, or the
people, or both, I know not; or whether I have here a partial
relation; but by that I have heard, I should judge this city to be
another Utopia. The people live all so orderly, the streets kept so
cleanly, the tradesmen, young and old, so industrious; the better
sort so provident, and withal so charitable; that it is as rare to
meet a beggar there, as it is common to see them in Westminster. For
the 4 bishops<415> that were in Queen Elsabeth's time, I know
nothing in particular, but that they lived as bishops should do,
sine querela,<416> and were not warriors, like bishop Spencer,<417>
their predecessor, in Henry the fourth his time; nor had such store
of gold and silver as he had, that could levy an army. But for the
present bishop,<418> I knew him but four years since vice-chancellor
of Cambridge; and I am sure he had as good Latin as any of his
predecessors had, and was accounted there a very perfect divine; in
both which respects, he is to be thought very fit for that place,
being a maritime town, and much frequented with strangers; very
devoutly given in religion, and perhaps understand Latin as well as
English.



BISHOPS OF WORCESTER:
Doctor Gervase Babington.

Worcester hath been fortunate in this last age to many excellent
bishops; of which but two in 100 years have died bishops thereof,
the rest having been removed. Also, in less then 14 year, it had one
bishop became pope, another that was a protestant, namely, Clement
the Seventh, and Hugh Latimer. Of the seven therefore that were in
Queen Elizabeth's time, I shall in this place speak but of one, and
that is he now living,<419> who by birth is a gentleman of a very
good house; for learning inferior to few of his rank. He was
sometime chaplain to the late Earl of Pembroke, whose noble Countess
used this her chaplain's advice, I suppose; for the translation of
the psalms, (of which I have seem some); for it was more than a
woman's skill to express the sense so right as she hath done in her
verse, and more than the English or Latin translation could give
her.—They first were means to place him in Llandaff, near them at
Cardiff, where he would say, merrily, his true title should be Aff,
for the Land was gone.<420> Thence he came back over the sea to the
see of Exeter, and thence, on terra firma, to Worcester; a place
where both the church and town are at this day in very flourishing
estate, and the church especially in very good reparations, which I
take ever for one good argument of a good bishop; for where the
sheep be ragged, and the fold rotten, there I straight suppose is no
very good shepherd. Yet, as every general rule hath commonly some
exception, so hath this in some places in England, and many more in
Wales, of which I shall, in their due place, note somewhat in the
ensuing treatises. And thus much of Worcester.



BISHOPS OF HEREFORD:
Doctor John Scory.

Of this twice bishop, Scory,<421> I have heard but little, yet it
hath been my fortune to read somthing that will not be amiss to
acquaint your Highness with, that you may see how Satan doth sift
the lives and doings of English bishops with the quills sometimes of
strangers and foreigners. For whereas, this our English modest
writer only reports "how he, first bishop of Chichester, being but
bachelor of divinity, and deprived for no fault but that he
continued not a bachelor, whereupon he fled for religion (as the
phrase was) till coming home in the year 1560, he was preferred to
Hereford." The French writer stayeth not there, but telleth "how
that being setled there, though he professed to be a great enemy to
idolatry, yet in another sense (according to St. Paul,) he became a
worshipper of images; not saints but angels.<422> Belike he feared
some future tempest, and therefore thought to provide better for
himself than he had at Chichester; so as what with pulling down
houses and selling the lead, and such loose ends; what with setting
up good husbandries; what with leases to his tenants, with all
manner of viis et modis,<423> he heaped together a great mass of
wealth." He that hath store of metal must needs also have some
dross, and no marvel if this bishop then, according to his name, had
much scoria<424> with his treasure. A noble and honourable
councillor, and then lord president of Wales, hearing so frequent
complaints made of him for oppressions, extortions, simonies, and
the like, caused a bill to be prefered into the star-chamber against
him; in which bill was contained such matter as was enough not only
to disgrace him, but to degrade him, if it had been followed
accordingly. His solicitor of his causes brings him a copy of the
bill, and, in reading it with him, seemed not a little dismayed in
his behalf, much like to the servant of Elisha that came trembling
to his master, and told him how they were beleaguered with a huge
army. But this bishop, though not indued with the spirit of a
prophet, yet having a spirit that could look well into his profit,
bids his solicitor (who was his kinsman, perhaps his sister's
brother's son) to be of good comfort; adding (it may be) the very 
words of Elisha, "for there are more of our side than against us."
But when his Gehezi (for the comparison suits better to the man than
to the master) could see, as yet, no comfortable vision; the good
bishop did not open his eyes to let him see, as Elisha did, the
chariots of fire on the tops of the mountains: but he opened his own
bags, and showd him some legions, or rather, chiliads,<425> of
angels, who entering all at once, not into a herd of swine, but into
the hoard of a Lady, that then was potent with him, that was dominus
fac totum,<426> cast such a cloud into the star-chamber, that the
bill was never openly heard of after. This, or the like, and much
more to the like effect, writes this French author of the said
bishop of Hereford; though the treatise itself was not specially
meant against the bishop, but against a temporal lord of a higher
rank, that was not a little nettled with the same. In so much, as
many travelling gentlemen, and among other, this bishop's son was 
called in question for the publishing of this book, belike because
some particularities of this matter were discovered that could come
originally from none but him.

But to come again to this bishop, I hope it shall be no just scandal
to other good bishops, true successors of the apostles, that this
man was a bishop. Judas will have successors as well as James, and
Simon Magus as well as Simon Peter, and sometime perhaps both in one
chair. This man, indeed, had been brought up in the age of the
friars that made much of themselves, and relinquished their cells;
that read in the old testament, laetare et fac, but left out
bonum;<427> for so he followed the text in the new testament, "Make
ye friends of the wicked Mammon;" but left out the part that should
have brought him to "everlasting tabernacles." For if God's mercy be
not the greater, I fear his friend and he are met in no pleasant
mansion, though too durable; if the vision of Henry Lord
Hunsdon<428> were true, as an honest gentleman hath often reported
it. But all this, notwitstanding, his posterity may do well, for God
himself forbids men to say, that "the fathers eat sour grapes, and
the children's teeth be on edge;" and if the worst be, the English
proverb may comfort them, which, lest it want reason, I will cite in
rhyme,

It is a saying common, more than civil,
The son is blest, whose sire is with the devil.

After his decease a great and long suit was held about his
dilapidations, which makes the former report to seem the more
probable.



BISHOPS OF HEREFORD:
Doctor Herbert Westphaling.

There succeeded him [John Scory] a learned and famous doctor indeed,
Dr. Westphaling,<429> who after he had been a bishop divers years,
yet to show that good bishops do not quite discontinue their study,
but rather increase their knowledge with their dignity, came to
Oxford, at her Majesty's last being there, and made an eloquent and
copious oration before her, for conclusion of the divinity
disputations: among which, one special question that bred much
attention, was this, "Whether it be lawful to dissemble in cause of
religion?" And one argument more witty than pithy, produced by an
opponent, was this, "It is lawful to dispute of religion, therefore
it is lawful to dissemble," and urging it further, he said thus, "I
myself now do that which is lawful, but I do now dissemble; ergo, it
is lawful to dissemble:" at which her Majesty and all the auditory
were very merry. I could make a rehearsal of some of the bishop's
oration concerning this question, how he allowed a secrecy, but
without simulation, a policy but not without piety, lest men taking
too much of the serpent, have too little of the dove; but I am sure
in all his speech he allowed no equivocation. Howbeit, if I should
insist long hereon, I might commit the same fault to your Highness
that the Queen at that time found in him, which was, that she
thought him too tedious. For she had sent twice to him to cut short
his oration, because herself meant to make a public speech that
evening. But he would not, or as some told her, could not, put
himself out of a set methodical speech, for fear he should have
marred it all, and perhaps confounded his memory. Wherefore she
forbare her speech that day, and more privately the next morning
sending for the heads of houses, and a few others, she spake to them
in Latin, and among other she schooled Doctor Reynolds,<431> for his
preciseness, willing him to follow her laws, and not to run before
them. But it seemed he had forgotten it when he came last to Hampton
Court, so as there he received a better schooling. I may not forget
how the Queen, in the midst of her oration, casting her eye aside,
and seeing the old Lord Treasurer Burleigh standing on his lame feet
for want of a stool, she call'd in all haste for a stool for him,
nor would she proceed in her speech till she saw him provided of
one; then fell she to it again, as if there had been no
interruption; upon which one that might be so bold with her, told
her after, that she did it of purpose to show that she could
interrupt her speech, and not be put out, although the bishop durst
not adventure to do a less matter the day before.

But this bishop was every way a very sufficient man, and for such
esteemed while he was of Christ Church. Trifling accidents show as
good proof, oft times, of a man's spirit, and courage, and
constancy, as the weightiest occasions. Such a one happend this
doctor while he was of the university, as a scholar of that time
hath told me, and it was this:—There had been a very sharp frost,
(such as have been many this year,) and a sudden rain or sleet
falling with it from the south-east, had as it were candied all that
side of the steeple at Christ Church, with an ice mixed with snow,
which with the warmth of the sun soon after ten of the clock began
to resolve, and Doctor Westphaling being in the middle of his
sermon, it fell down altogther upon the leads of the church, with
such a noise, as if indeed it would have thrown down the whole
church. The people (as in sudden terrors is usuall) filled all with
tumult, and each man hasted to be gone so fast, that they hindered
one another. He first kneeling down, and recommending himself to
God, (as in the apprehension of a sudden danger,) straight rose
again, and with so cheerful both voice and countenance encouraged
them, as they all returned, and he quietly finished his sermon.

But his chief praise I reserve for the last, which was this:—for all
such benefices as either were in his own gift, or fell into his hand
by lapse, which were not few, and some of great value; he neither
respected letters nor commendations of lords or knights, nor wife,
nor friends, in preferment of any man, but only their sufficiency
and their good conversation; so as to sue for a benefice unto him,
was rather a means to miss it than to attain it.



BISHOPS OF HEREFORD:
Doctor Robert Bennet.

This bishop<432> was preferred to this place since my author wrote
his catalogue, so as he is not therein specified; yet must not I do
him that wrong to omit him in this relation. This is he (if your
Highness do remember it) of whom his Majesty said, "if he were to
choose a bishop by the aspect, he would choose him of all the men he
had seen, for a grave, reverent, and pleasing countenance;"
concurring herein, in a sort, though by contraries, with the
judgement of Henry the fourth Emperor, who coming from hunting one
day, (as Malmsbury writeth) went for devotion sake into a church,
where a very ill-favoured faced priest was at service.—The Emperor
thinking his virtues suted his visage, said to himself, "How can God
like of so ugly a fellow's service.?" But it fortuned at that
instant, the priests boy was mumbling of that versicle in the
hundredth psalm, ipse nos fecit, et non ipsi nos;<433> and because
he pronounced it not plainly, the priest reproved him, and repeated
it again aloud, ipse nos fecit, et non ipsi nos: which the Emperor
applying to his own cogitation, thought the priest to have some
prophetical spirit, and from that time forward esteemed him greatly,
and made him a bishop. Thus that bishop, though he could not set so
good a face of it, yet he got perhaps as good a bishopric.

But to come to our bishop, whom myself knew in Cambridge a Master of
Art, and a proper active man, and played well at tennis; and after
that, when he came to be a Bachelor of Divinity, he would toss an
argument in the schools better than a ball in the tennis-court. A
grave doctor yet living, and his ancient, alluding to his name in
their disputation, called him Erudite Benedicte,<433> and gave him,
for his outward as well as inward ornaments, great commendation. He
became, after, chaplain to the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, who was very
curious, and no less fortunate in the choice of his chaplains, and
they no less happy in the choice of their patron, as Mr. Day, after
bishop of Winchester; the bishop I now speak of; Doctor Neale, now
dean of Westminster; and divers others.



BISHOPS OF CHICHESTER:
Dr Anthony Watson.

I find in former ages many unlearned and unfit men, by favour
recommended to bishoprics, but of a man recommended by the king, and
refused by the clergy, only for his want of learning, I think there
is but one example, and that was one Robert Paslew, in the time of
Hen. 3., which Prince is no less to be commended for admitting the
refusal, than they for refusing: But yet in speaking of learned
bishops, this church may say their last have been their best. Doctor
Watson<435> your Highness can remember his Majesty's almoner, he was
a very good preacher, preferred by the Queen, first to the deanery
of Bristol, where he was well beloved; and after to Chichester,
where he was more honoured, if not beloved, for the course of his
life, and cause of his death. I might in some sort compare him to
bishop Vaughan,<436> late of London; he grew somewhat corpulent, and
having been sick, and but newly recovered, adventured to travel to
wait in his place, and so by recidivation<437> he died..



BISPHOPS OF CHICHESTER:
Doctor Lancelot Andrews.

His Majesty having a great desire to prefer Dr. Andrews,<438> then
dean of Westminster, made special choice of him to succeed him, as
well in the bishopric as the almonership, and I suppose if Henry the
third his chaplain had been so good a scholar, he had not been
refused for his learning. This bishop your Highness knoweth so well,
and have heard him so oft, as it may be you think it needless to
hear more of him. But I will be bold to say your Highness doth but
half know him; for the virtues that are not seen in him, are more
and greater than those that are seen. I will therefore play the blab
so far, that your Highness may know him better. He was born in
London, and trained up in the school of that famous Mulcaster,<439>
and for the special towardness was found in him in very young years,
he was not only favoured, but had liberal exhibition given him by a
great councillor of those times, as I shall note hereafter. The
course of his study was not, as most men's are in these times, to
get a little superficial sight in divinity, by reading two or three
of the new writers, and straight take orders, and up into the
pulpit: of which kind of men a reverent bishop, yet living, said, as
properly as pleasantly, when one told of a young man that preached
twisc every Lord's day, beside some exercising in the weekdays;—"It
may be (saith he) he doth talk so often, but I doubt he doth not
preach." And to the like effect the late Queen said to the same
bishop, when she had on the Friday heard one of these talking
preachers much commended to her by somebody; and the Sunday after
heard a well labour'd sermon, which some disgraced as a bosom-
sermon,<440> that smelt of the candle;—"I pray," said she, "let me
have your bosom-sermons, rather than your lip-sermons; for when the
preacher takes pains, the auditor takes profit."

But to come to Dr. Andrews, that gathered before he did spend,
reading both new writers and old writers, not as tasting but as
digesting, them, and finding, according to our Saviour's saying, the 
old to be more profitable;<441> at last his sufficiency could be no
longer concealed. But as an industrious merchant, that secretly and
diligently follows his trade with small show, till his wealth being
grown so great it can be no longer hidden, is then, called on for
subsidies and loans, and public services; so did this man's
excellency suddenly break forth. His patron (that studied projects
of policy as much as precepts of piety,) hearing of his fame, and
meaning to make use thereof, sent for him (as I have credibly heard)
and dealt earnestly with him, to hold up a side that was even then
falling, and to maintain certain state points of puritanism. But he
that had too much of the andros<442> in him to be scared with a
councillor's frown, or blown aside with his breath, answered him
plainly, they were not only against his learning, but his
conscience. The councillor, seeing this man would be no friar
Pinkney,<443> (to be taught in a closet what he should say at
Paul's,) dismissed him with some disdain for the time; but afterward
did the more reverence his integrity and honesty, and became no
hinderer of his ensuing preferments. Of these one was a prebend in
Paul's, belonging to him they call the confessor or confessioner, a
place notoriously abused in time of popery by their tyranny and
superstition, but now of late, by a contrary extreme, too much
forgotten and neglected. While he held this place, his manner was
(especially in Lent time) to walk duly at certain hours, in one of
the aisles of the church, that if any came to him for spiritual
advice and comfort; (as some did, though not many,) he might impart
it to them. This custom being agreable to the scripture, and
fathers, expressed and required, in a sort, in the communion book,
not repugning the 39 articles, and no less approved by Calvin in his
Institutions; yet was quarreled with by divers (upon occasion of
some sermons of his) as a point of popery. The like scandal was
taken of some, though not given by him, for his reverent speaking of
the highest mystery of our faith, and heavenly food, the Lord's
Supper; which some are so stiff in their knees, or rather in their
hearts, that they hold it idolatry to receive it kneeling. But
whatsoever such barked at, he ever kept one tenure of life and
doctrine, exemplar and unreproveable.

Two special things I have observed in his preaching, that I may not
omit to speak of: One, to raise a joint reverence to GOD and the
Prince, to the spiritual and civil magistrate, by uniting and not
severing them; the other, to lead to amendment of life, and good
works, the fruits of true repentance. Of the first kind, he made a
sermon before the Queen long since, (which was most famous) of this
text "Thou leadest thy people like sheep, by the hands of Moses and
Aaron."<444> Which sermon, (though courtiers ears are commonly so
open, as it goes in at one ear and out at the other) yet it left an
aculeus<445> behind in many of all sorts. And Henry Noell,<446> one
of the great gallants of those times swore "as he was a gentleman,
he never heard man speak with such a spirit."—And the like to this,
was his sermon before the King, of two silver trumpets to be made of
one piece.

Of the second kind I might say all his sermons are, but I will
mention but his last, that I heard the 5 of the last November, which
sermon I could wish ever to read upon that day. "When the Lord
turned the captivity of Sion," &c.<447> And I never saw his Majesty
more sweetly affected with any sermon than with that.

But to conclude;—I persuade myself that whensoever it shall please
God to give the King means, with consent of his confederate Princes,
to make that great peace which his blessed word Beati Pacifici<448>
seemeth to promise, (I mean the ending of this great schism in the
church of God, procured as much by ambition as by superstition;)
this reverent prelate will be found one of the ablest, not of
England only, but of Europe, to set the course for composing the
controversies; which I speak not to add reputation to his
sufficiency by my judgement, but rather to win credit to my
judgement by his sufficiency. And whereas I know some that have not
known him so long as I have, (yet have heard and believe no less of
his learning than I speak,) find fault that he is not so apt to
deliver his resolution upon every question moved, as they could
wish, who if they be not quickly resolved of that they ask, will
quickly resolve not to care for it. I say this cunctation<449> is
the mean between precipitation and procrastination, and is specially
commended by the apostle St. James, as I have heard him allege it,
Sit omnis homo tardus ad iram, tardus ad loquendum.<450>



BISHOP OF ROCHESTER:
Doctor William Barlow.

This bishopric having been noted in Henry the Third his time, to
have been one of the poorest of England, hath, I suppose, been the
less impoverished in the spoiling times: the grand spoilers being of
the mind of some tailors, that when their allowance of stuffs was
most scant, they would make the garment more larger. This city in
these last 100 year, hath had 14 bishops; of which one was cardinal,
two were archbishops, and I take it but one hath died bishop, and
that was the last before this, whose name was Young,<451> but lived
to be very old, and desired not to remove.

His successor, Doctor Barlow,<452> is one of the youngest in age,
but one of the ripest in learning, of all his predecessors, since
Bishop Fisher, that had ill luck with his learning, to die upon
Tower Hill.<453> There are so many printed testimonies of his
sufficiency, as I need say the less of it; but it is like he shall
not abide there long. Of all his sermons he preached afore Queen
Elizabeth, (which were many, and very good,) one that she liked
exceedingly was of the plough; of which she said, "Barlow's text
might seem taken from the cart, but his talk may teach you all in
the court." He made a sermon, not long after that, at Paul's, which
many (especially puritans,) did much mislike; and, for that cause,
called it (alluding to his name) "The Barley Loaf;" not marking, how
much honour they give it in their scorn, by example both of the Old
Testament and New. In the Old Testament, the barley loaf signified
Gideon's sword, ordained to distroy the wicked; in the New, by the
blessing of our Saviour, it fed more thousands of honest men than
this offended.<454>



BISHOPS OF OXFORD.
Doctor John Underhill.

From Rochester I should go a long pilgrimage to St. David's in
Wales, save I must bait, a little out of my way, at four new
bishoprics, erected by King Hen. 8, of famous memory; and therefore
I hope not ordained to be dissolved of a Henry the Ninth, of future
and fortunate expectation. I say I will but bait, especially at
Oxford, lest I be baited if I stay too long, for I know this
discourse is to some, as unguis in ulcere.<455>

This bishopric being but 66 year since erected, had two bishops in
26 year, and then continued void 21 year; what time, of pure
devotion to the leases that would yield good fines, a great parson
recommended Doctor Underhill<456> to this place, persuading him to
take it, as in the way to a better; but God knows, it was out of his
way, every way. For ere his first fruits were paid, he died (as I
heard, at Greenwich) in much discontent, and poverty. Yet his
preferrer<457> (to seem to do some favour to the university of
Oxford, for recompense of the spoil done on the bishopric of
Oxford,) erected a new solemn lecture there at his own charge, which
Doctor Reynolds did made; at which lecture I happened once to be
present with the founder, where we were taught nihil et non,<458> as
elsewhere I have at large showed to your Highness. But though the
many-headed beast, the multitude, was bleared with this bounty; yet
the scholars that were more nasuti, oculati, et cordati, ["sharp-
smelling, keen-sighted, and wise"[TN] did smell, and see, and say,
"that this was but to steal a goose, and stick a feather." And,
indeed, this was the true theory and practice of puritanism; one,
impugning the authority of bishops secretly, by such lectures; the
other, impoverishing their livings openly, by such leases.



BISHOPS OF OXFORD:
Doctor John Bridges.

After that Bishop Underhill was laid under earth, I think the see of
Oxford would have been drowned in the sea of oblivion, if his
Majesty, (whose soul abhors all sacrilege) had not supplied it with
the good father that now holdeth it, Doctor John Bridges,<459> a man
whose volumes in prose and verse give sufficient testimony of his
industry; though, for mine own part, I am grown an unfit praiser of
poetry, having taken such a surfeit of it in my youth, that I think
now, a gray head and a verse do not agree together, and much less a
grave matter and a verse. For the reputation of poetry is so altered
by the iniquity of the times, that whereas it was wont to make
simple folk believe some things that were false, now it makes our
great wise men to doubt of things that be true. When the creed was
first put in English verse, as it is now sung in the church, the
descending of Christ into hell, was never questioned, but since it
hath been sung 50 year or more,—

"His spirit did, after this, distend into the lower parts,
To them that long in darkness were, the true light of their
hearts;—"
the doubt<460> that was made of the latter of these two verses, hath
caused the truth of the former to be called in question. Wherefore,
though I grant the psalms and hymns may and perhaps ought to be in
verse, (as good linguists affirm Moses' and David's psalms to be
originally,) yet I am almost of opinion, that one ought to abjure
all poetry when he comes to divinity.<461> But not derogating herein
from the travails of my betters, and the judgment of mine elders, I
proceed, or rather post, to my next stage.



BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER:
Doctor Henry Parry.

At Gloucester I shall, at this time, make a very short bait, the
last bishop thereof being but lately removed to London, and the
present bishop<462> scant yet warm in his seat: yet this I must say,
that I have heard some students of good judgement, that knew him in
Oxford, affirm, that in his very young years he gave a great hope
and good presage of his future excellency; having a rare gift ex
tempore in all his school exercises, and such a happy wit to make
use of all occurrents to his purpose, as if he had not taken the
occasions as they fell out, by accident, but rather bespoken such
pretty accidents, to fall out to give him the occasions. I have
often heard him before Queen Elizabeth, and it was not possible to
deliver sounder matter, nor with better method; for which cause he
was greatly respected and reverenced at the court. But for his Latin
sermon before the two most magnificent Kings, your Highness' father
and uncle, I cannot praise him; no, for I am a Cambridge man; but I
can envy him, that in two judgements, omni exceptione majoribus, did
carry the commendations of the pure Latin language (peculiar as I
thought unto Cambridge) to her younger sister of Oxford.<463> And
thus much for him, whose virtues no doubt will give matter for some
furder relation under, some other title hereafter.



BISHOP OF PETERBOROUGH
Doctor Thomas Dove.

<464>I should do both this worthy prelate<465> and myself much
wrong, if I should not commend him for many good parts; being one
whom I have long known to have been greatly respected and favoured
by the late Queen, and no less liked and approved in the more
learned judgement of his Majesty. Howbeit, the ground on which I
would build his chief praise, to some of the Aristarchi<466> and
sour censurers of these days, requires first an apology. For I
remember, that even in Cambridge, about 25 years since, (and I am
sure he remembers it too,) a question rose among the divines (scarce
fit for the schools, less fit for the pulpit, yet was it both
handled and determined in the pulpit,) whether rhetorical figures
and tropes, and other artificial ornaments of speech taken from
profane authors, as sentences, adages, and such like, might be used
in sermons; and not rather the plain naked truth, delivered out of
the word of God. The precise sort, that would have the word and
church and all go naked, (saving for some apron, perhaps of fig-
leaves,) were not only earnest, but bitter, against the use of all
such human, or (as they called them,) profane helps; calling them
paintings fitter for strumpets, than for sober and chaste matrons.
But the graver and more orthodox were of the other opinion; and
namely, my learned tutor, Doctor Flemming, by appointment of the
heads of the colledges, in an excellent sermon determind the
controversy. "That seing now the extraordinary gifts, first of
tongues, next of miracles, was ceased; and that knowledge is not now
infusa, but acquisita,<467> we should not despise the help of any
human learning; as neither St. Paul did, who used the sentences of
poets, as well as of prophets, and hath many excellent tropes, with
exaggerations and exclamations in his epistles: for chastity doth
not abhor all ornaments, and Judith did attire her head as curiously
as Jezebel," &c.

About 12 year after this, the very same question in the same manner
was canvassed at Oxford, and determined in the pulpit by Dr. House,
against Dr. Reynolds, who had held the other opinion: but upon
occasion of this sermon, at which my brother, (that had been his
scholar,) and myself, happened both to be present; he retracted to
us his opinion, or rather disclaimed it, as my Lord of Durham that
now is (but then dean of Christ Church) doth well remember. This
opinion then being sound, that eloquence may serve as a handmaid,
and tropes and figures as jewels and ornaments, to this chaste
matron, Divinity; I must say (as I began,) that his sermons are as
well attended, and adorned in this kind, and as plentifully as any
of his predecessors have been, or his successors are like to be; and
that they were wont so to be long since, sufficeth this testimony,
that her Majesty that last reigned, when she first heard him, said,
"she thought the Holy Ghost was descended again in this Dove."


BISHOP OF BRISTOL:
Doctor John Thornbury.

Bristol, being a bishopric of the later erection, namely but 66 year
since, no marvel it never had any bishop thereof canonized for a
saint; yet it cannot be denied since to have had one holy man;<468>
and if copulation with a bishop might make them holy, it hath had
also in this short time more than one holy woman. I spent a roving
shaft on Doctor Fletcher's second marriage, I would I could as well
pull out the thorn of Doctor Thornbury's<469> first marriage, out of
every man's conscience that have taken a scandal of the second. For
my part, whatsoever I think in my private, it becomes us not to
judge our judges; the customs and laws of some countries differ from
other, and sometimes are changed and mended in the same, as this
case of divorce is most godly reformed in ours, and as Vincentius
Lyrinensis saith well of St. Cyprian, who had before the council of
Carthage defended rebaptising,—"The author of this error, saith he,
is no doubt in heaven, the followers and practicers of it, now go to
hell." So I may say of this bishop; his remarrying may be pardoned,
et in hoc saeculo, et in futuro,<470> but he that shall do so again,
may be met with in hoc saeculo. But it was the bishop of Limerick in
Ireland, and not the bishop of Bristol in England, that thus
married. What? Doth this lessen the scandal?—I suppose it doth. For
I dare affirm, that most of that diocese are so well catechised, as
they think it as great a scandal for their bishop (yea, rather
greater,) to have one wife, as to have two. And though for laymen's
marriage, their priests tell them ''tis a holy sacrament in them,
(which they count a sacrilege in a bishop,) and they construe to
them out of St. Paul, ?? ????????? ????? ???? ????,[to mysterion
touto mega esin] this is a great sacrament:<471> yet, their people,
and some of their peers also, regard it as slightly, and dissolve it
more uncivilly, than if it were but a civil contract; for which not
only they draw upon them by their bastardies and bigamies, many
apparent scourges of GOD, the heavenly Father, but also a peculiar
penance upon their nation, of one fasting day in a week
extraordinary, from their holy father the Pope.

But setting aside this misfortune rather than fault, which if God
and the King pardon him for, who shall impute to him?—for other
matters, I have reason to think him and his, is God and the King's
favor. He, and his whole family almost, had a miraculous escape in
Ireland, which I would all our bishops did know that they might
remember to keep their boasts in better reparations. Lying in an old
castle in Ireland, in a large room partitioned but with sheets or
curtains, his wife, children, and servants, in effect, a whole
family; in the dead of the night, the floor overhead being earth and
plaster, as in many places is used, overcharged with weight, fell
wholly down together; and crushing all to pieces that was above two
foot high, as cupboards, tables, forms, stools, rested at last upon
certain chests, (as God would have it,) and hurt no living creature.

He did many good services in Ireland for our Q. and state, for which
he was thought worthy of a better abode, than in that purgatory. He
hath very good understanding of that country, and if some others,
who are since gone out of this world, had been as willing as he to
have reported to his Majesty the diseases of that country and the
fittest cures; it may be, it would not in long time have needed
those desperate remedies of secandum and urendum,<472> as sharp to
the surgeons oft times as the patient But, to conclude of this
bishop, whom I love more than I praise, he is not unfurnished of
learning, of wisdom, of courage, and other as well episcopal as
temporal panoplies or furnituee; beseeming both a gentleman, a dean
and a bishop.



BISHOP OF ST. DAVID'S:
Doctor Anthony Rudde.

Of this ancient bishopric, or rather archbishopric, of St. Davis,
(as the old true Britons do call it,) in Latin called Menevia, and
the bishop Menevensis, I was told of an old indulgence granted by
Calixtus the 2, of a very special note, ascribing thereby great
holiness to this place, viz. that two pilgrimages to St. Davy should
be equal in merit to one pilgrimage to Rome, expressed since for
brevity's sake by some friar in a rhyming verse,

Roma semel quantum,
Bis dat Minevia tantum.

This place hath yielded many excellent bishops, as well for learning
as good life,<473> and for abstinence miraculous, if we believe
stories that 33 bishops successively eat no flesh. I can add little
of the bishops, save of him that now lives,<474> whom, if I knew
not, yet by his look I should guess to be a grave and austere man,
even like St. David himself; but knowing him as I do, he was in more
possibility to have proved like to St. John Baptist, in my opinion.
There is almost none that waited in Queen Elizabeth's court, and
observed anything, but can tell, that it pleased her much to seem,
and to be thought, and to be told, that she looked young.<475> The
Majesty and gravity of a sceptre, borne 44 year, could not alter
that nature of a woman in her. This notwithstanding, this good
bishop being appointed to preach before her in the Lent of the year
1596, the court lying then at Richmond, and wishing in a godly zeal,
as well became him, that she would think some time of mortality,
being then full 63 years of age; he took this text, fit for that
purpose, out of the Psalms, Ps. 90. Ver. 12.  "O teach us to number
our days, that we may incline our hearts unto wisdom;" which text he
handled so well, so learnedly, and so respectively,<476> as I dare
undertake he thought, and so should I, if I had not been somewhat
better acquainted with her humour, that it would have well pleased
her, or at least no way offended her. But when he had spoken a while
of some sacred and mystical numbers, as 3 for the Trinity, 3 times 3
for the heavenly Hierarchy,<477> 7 for the Sabbath, and 7 times 7
for a Jubilee; and lastly, (I do not deliver it so handsomly as he
brought it in,) 7 times 9 for the grand climaterical year; she,
perceiving whereto it tended, began to be troubled with it. The
bishop discovering all was not well, (for the pulpit stands there
vis a vis to the closet,) he fell to treat of some more plausible
numbers, as of the number 666, making Latinus, with which (he said)
he could prove the pope to be Antichrist; also; of the fatal number
of 88, which being so long before spoken of for a dangerous year,
yet it had pleased God that year not only to preserve her, but to
give her a famous victory against the united forces of Rome and
Spain: and so (he said) "there was no doubt but she should pass this
year also, and many more, if she would, in her meditations and
soliloquies with God, as he doubted not she often did, and would say
thus and thus." So making indeed an excellent prayer, by way of
prosopopeia;<478> in her Majesty's person acknowledging God's great
graces and benefits, and praying devoutly for the continuance of
them, but withal interlarding it with some passages of Scripture,
that touch the infirmities of age; as that of Ecclesiastes, 12.
"When the grinders shall be few in number, and they wax dark that
look out of the windows, &c. and the daughters of singings shall be
abased;" and more to like purpose, he concluded his sermon. The
Queen (as the manner was) opened the window, but she was so far from
giving him thanks, or good countenance, that she said plainly, "he
should have kept his arithmetic for himself; but I see (said she)
the greatest clerks are not the wisest men;" and so went away for
the time discontented. The Lord Keeper Puckering, though reverencing
the man much in his particular, yet for the present to assuage the
Queen's displeasure, commanded him to keep his house for a time,
which he did. But of a truth, her Majesty showed no ill nature in
this, for within days after she was not only displeased at his
restraint, but in my hearing rebuked a lady, yet living, for
speaking scornfully of him and his sermon. Only, to show how the
good bishop was deceived in supposing she was so decayed in her
limbs and senses, as himself, perhaps, and other of that age are
wont to be; she said, "she thanked God that neither her stomach nor
strength, nor her voice for singing, nor fingering for instruments,
nor lastly, her sight was any whit decayed;" and to prove the last
before us all, she produced a little jewel that had an inscription
of very small letters, and offered it first to my Lord of Worcester,
and then to Sir James Crofts, to read, and both protested bona fide
they could not; yet the Queen herself did find out the poesy, and
made herself merry with the standers-by upon it; and thus much for
St. David's.<479>.

Yet I have been told of a strange stone, of huge weight and bigness,
that hath a pretty quality; namely, that with one finger you may
stir it, yet twenty yoke of oxen cannot remove it; but I rather
think it is mistaken; for the stone Mr. Camden writes of, is near
Penzance, in your country of Cornwall, called Mamamber, (of which he
writes page 136) hath the very like quality.



BISHOP OF LLANDAFF
Doctor Francis Godwin.

It is doubtless a wonderful antiquity that my author produced of
Llandaff, that it professed Christianity, and had a church for
Christian religion in the year of our Lord 180. But alas, for a man
to boast of great nobility, and go in ragged clothes, and a church
to be praised for great antiquity, and make ruinous shows, is in
mine opinion, (according to the vulgar proverb,) a great boast, and
a small roast. But by this author's relation, it appears this roast
was not so marred by an ill cook, as by a worse kitchen; for in the
year 1545, being the 37 of Hen. 8, Doctor Kitchin being made of an
idle abbot a busy bishop, and wading through these hazardous times
that ensued till the first year of Queen Elizabeth, to save himself,
was content to spoil this bishopric; Satan having in those days more
care to sift the bishoprics than the bishops. Else how was it
possible for a man of that rank to sing, cantate Domino canticum
novum,<480> four times in 14 years, and never sing out of tune, if
he had not loved the Kitchen better than the Church. Howbeit, though
he might seem for name sake to favour the kitchen, yet in spoil of
that see he was as little friend to the kitchen as the rest,
spoiling the woods and good provisions that should have warmed it;
which gave occasion to Doctor Babington, now bishop of Worcester, to
call it Aph, without Land,<481> and Doctor Morgan after, to remove
to St. Asaph from thence, not for name sake, but for his own
namesake, that is Moregane,<482> at what time the present bishop I
now speak of, being then subdean of Exeter, Doctor Francis
Godwin<483> having that year newly published this work, and the same
being in great request, and highly commended to the Queen for a
godly, learned, and necessary work, she gave him presently this
bishopric, not full two months vacant, and would as willingly have
given him a much better in her own disposition; as may well appear
in that she gave Doctor Cooper the bishopric of Lincoln, only for
making a dictionary, or rather but for mending that which Sir Thomas
Eliot had made before. Of this bishop therefore I may speak
sparingly; yea, rather spare all speech, considering that every leaf
of his worthy work, is a sufficient testimony of his virtuous mind,
undefatigable industry, and infinite reading. For even as we see
commonly, those gentlemen that are well descended, and better bred,
are most careful to preserve the true memories and pedigrees of
their ancestors, which the base and ignorant; because they could not
conserve, will seem to contemn; so this worthy bishop, collecting so
diligently, and relating so faithfully, the succession and lives of
so many of our Christian most reverent bishops in former ages, doth
prove himself (more by spiritual then carnal birth,) to come of
those ancestors, of whom it was long before prophesied by the
princely prophet, "Instead of thy fathers, thou shalt have children,
whom thou shalt make princes in all places."<484> Though the impiety
of these latter times hath sought to make our fathers all but
children, and younger brothers, as they say; and to disinherit them
of theirs, or rather of Christ's patrimony. He deserveth then a pen
much better than mine, and equal to his own, to do that for him he
hath done for others.

Before his going to Exeter, I had some acquaintance with him, and
have heard him preach more than once at our assizes and elsewhere;
his manner was to be sharp against the vices most abounding in that
time, sacrilege, simony, contempt of God in his ministers, and want
of charity. Amongst other of his sermons, preaching once of Dives
and Lazarus; he said "That though the scripture had not expressed
plainly who Dives was, yet by his clothes and his fare he might be
bold to affirm he was, at the least, a justice of peace, and perhaps
of Oyer and Terminer too." This speech was so ill taken by some
guilty conscience, that a great matter was enforc'd to be made of
it, that it was a dangerous and seditious speech. And why?—Forsooth,
because it was a dear year. But see how a man's enemies sometimes do
him as much good as his friends. Their fond<67> accusation, and his
discreet justification, made him both better known and more
respected, by them that were able to do him most good. Since this,
he hath lived in so remote places from my occasions, first at
Exeter, and then beyond sea in Wales; that I am become almost a
stranger to his person; but yet I am grown better acquainted with
his writings both in Latin and English, and namely this his
catalogue, which having read first with great contentment to myself,
I have since for your Highness' pleasure perused again, and presumed
to add some notes, and a table, by way of alphabet,<485> for the
more ready finding of most memorable matters; beside a supplement of
such as were in his edition wanting; of whom finding himself to be
one, that coming in so worthily was not worthy to be left out. I
give him here in his due place his more due commendation; which if I
should fortune upon some envy to have forborne, or upon judgement to
have omitted, as a praise needless where the whole work is his
praise; he might worthily have said as much of me, as I wrote of a
certain poetaster some years past; who left me out of the bead-
roll<486> of some rhyming paper-blotters, that he call'd poets.

Of poets Balbus reckoning up a rabble,
Doth boast he makes their names more honourable;
And ne'er vouchsafing me to name at all,
He says, he knows he grieved me to the gall.
I galled? simple soul; no, thou art gullèd,
To think I prize the praise of such a dull-head.
Whose verse is guilty of some bodge or blame,
Let them seek testimonials of their fame.
Then learn untaught, then learn, ye envious elves,
No books are praised, that do not praise themselves.

And thus much be said for the province of Canterbury, and the
bishops of the several dioceases thereof. There follows now to say
somewhat also of the province of York, which I shall endeavour to
accomplish with like brevity and fidelity.



ARCHBISHOPS OF YORK:
Doctor Thomas Young.

Concerning the archbishops of York that have been in the former
ages, whose lives are particularly related by this author, it seems
to me a matter worthy some note, that there have been of them, for
devotion and piety, as holy; for blood and nobilities as high; of
wealth and ability, as huge; as any not only in England, but of
Europe. Now that every age may have his excellency, I will say of
this our age, (I mean for some fifty years past,) in which there
hath been seven archbishops of York, that these have been as
excellent in courage, in learning, and eloquence. For Doctor
Nicholas Heath, whom her late Majesty found both archbishop and
chancellor,<487> (though she did take, or rather receive, both from
him,) yet did she ever gratefully acknowledge both his courage and
fidelity showed in her cause, and used no man of his religion so
graciously. Of Archbishop Grindal, I have spoken before and in his
due place given him his deserved praise.

Now I am to add a word or two of Archbishop Young,<488> that in the
third year of Queen Elizabeth was made archbishop. He was first
bishop of Saint David's, and either next or very soon after Bishop
Farrar, who among other articles that were alleged against him, had
one that I think was never alleged against clergyman or layman
before, and that was for riding on a Scottish saddle; but this
bishop walked more warily than that bishop did ride, so as this came
to live in state, when t'other died at a stake.<489> But how great
soever his honour was in being both archbishop and president,<490>
he left one precedent that too many are apt to follow, which was the
pulling down of a goodly hall, only for greediness of the lead that
covered it. Plumbi fœda fames:<491> a drossy desire and unworthy
part, with which he stained the reputation of learning and religion,
that was before ascribed to him; and, although by means of some
great friend this was less spoken of in his life time than after,
yet, if I have been rightly informed, even by that he was made no
great gainer. True it is, he purchased great things of the Earl of
Arundel, and how his heirs thrive with it I do not hear, but there
is a perilous verse, de male quaesitis vix gaudet tertius
haeres.<492> For my own part, I must confess, that where I find that
same destroying and ruining spirit, that in the apocalypse is named
(in Hebrew) Abaddon, and sounds in my English ear and heart, a bad
one; I suspect there is little true virtue or godliness harboured in
that breast. But if he were finely beguiled of all this lead by his
great friend that would be bold with him, I imagine that none that
hears it will much lament it. At a venture, I will tell your
Highness the tale that I heard, from as good a man as I tell it of;
only because he named not the parties, I cannot precisely affirm it
was this man, but I dare affirm this man was as worthy of it. A
great lord in the court in those days, sent to a great prelate in
the North to borrow 1000li. of him: the prelate protested on his
faith (I think not a justifying faith) that he was not able to do
it, but if he were, he would be very willing; acknowledging great
favors of the said Lord, and sending some present, enough perhaps to
pay for the use of 1000li. The nobleman that had good espial both
north and south, hearing of a certain ship laden with lead,
belonging to this prelate, that came to be sold at London, even as
it came to land, sends for the prelate's agent, shows him his lord's
letter and protestation under his hand; proves the ability
demonstrable by the lead; and so, by treaty or terror, or treachery
of the servant, made him betray his master for 1000li.



ARCHBISHOPS OF YORK:
Doctor Edwin Sands.

As those that sail from Flanders or Ireland to London or Bristol,
being past the tempestuous and broken seas, and now in sight of the
harbor, yet even there fear to miscarry, sometime by mistaking the
channel, and are oft so perplexed, as one bids to set sail again;
another advises to cast anchor; so is it now with me, drawing toward 
the end of this my short and voluntary voyage: I remember a ship of
London once, that having passed the Godwin Sands very safe, and
sailing on this side Blackwall to come up to Ratcliff, struck on the
black rock at the point below Greenwich, and was almost cast away. I
have (as your Highness sees) past already the Godwins, if I can as
well pass over this Edwin Sands,<493> I will go roomer<494> of
Greenwich rock, not forgetting to vail,<495> as becomes me, in
passing by; and if the spring tide serve, come to anchor about
Richmond. For I am entring now to write of an archbishop, who,
though he died 20 years since, in that anno mirabili of 88, yet he
lives still in his offspring, having a son<496> of his name, that
both speaks and writes admirably, whose profession, though it be not
of religion, as his father's was, yet never did his father's
preaching show better what to follow, than his writings show what to
shun. If my pen therefore should wrong his father, his pen no less
might wring me. I must appeal, therefore, for my justification in
this point, to the most indifferent censures,<497> and to yours
especially, sweet Prince, for whose sake I write; for if I should
let pass a matter so notorious as that of this archbishop of York
and Sir Ro. Stapleton, it were so wilful an omission as every one
might accuse me of; and if I should speak of either, partially and
against my own conscience and knowledge, I should much more accuse
myself. Here then is the Scylla and Charybdis that I sail between,
and if I fail of my right course, I shall be driven to say, as a
silly preacher did upon an unlike occasion, and much less to his
purpose, when he happened unwares to have a more learned auditory
than he expected,

Incidi in ancillam cupiens vitare Caribdin.<498>

But the story that I make this long introduction unto, is shortly
this. About 25 years since, there was great kindness, and had long
continued, between Archb. Sands and Sir Robert Stapleton, a knight
of Yorkshire,<499> whom your Highness hath often seen, who in those
days, for a man well spoken, properly seen in languages, a comely
and goodly personage, had scant an equal, and (except Sir Phillip
Sidney) no superior in England: for which reasons, the archbishop,
of all his neighbours and countrymen, did make especial account of
him. About the year 83 also, he was high-sheriff of Yorkshire, and
met the judges with seven score men in sutable liveries, and being
at this time likewise a widower, he wooed and won, and wedded soon
after, one of the best reputed widows in the West of England. In
this felicity he sailed with full sails, but somewhat too high, and
no less the archbishop, in like prosperity of wealth, and friends,
and children, yet seeming above all to joy in the friendship of this
knight, who answered in all good correspondence, not only of outward
compliment, but inward comfort; but well said the Spanish poet,

Nulli te facias nimis sodalem,
Gaudebis minus, et minus dolebis.
Too much companion make yourself to none,
Your joy will be the less, and less your moan.<500>

These two, so friendly neighbors and consorts, swimming in this calm
of content, at last happened to fall foul one of another by this
occasion. The knight, in his great good fortunes, having as great
designs, among other things had laid the foundation of a fair house,
or rather palace, the model whereof he had brought out of Italy,
which house he intended to name Stapleton's Stay; and for that cause
invited the archbishop in good kindness to see it, and requested
him, for the more credit, and, as it were, blessing to the house,
that his Grace would give it the foresaid name. But when the
archbishop had fully beheld it, and in his judgement found it fitter
for a Lord Treasurer of England than for a knight of Yorkshire, he
said to him;—"Would you have me call this intended house Stapleton's
Stay? Nay, rather let me say to you stay Stapleton; for if you go
forward to set up this house, it will pull you down." How often a
man loses a friend with a jest, and how grievous it is for a man's
vanity to be crossed in the humour! This speech of my Lord's, that I
should think intended friendly, uttered faithfully, and applied even
fatherly unto him, he took in so deep disdain and despite, that
howsoever he smothered it for the present, from that time forward he
sought a mean to revenge it. And wanting neither wit to devise, nor
courage to execute his design, he found out, or at least he supposed
he had found, a stratagem not only to wreak this scorn on the good
bishop, that mistrusted nothing, but also to make the old man's
purse pay for the finishing of the new house. He acquaints him with
an officer in my Lord's house, some malcontent that had been denied
a lease. These two devise, that when my lord should lie next at
Doncaster, where the hostess of the house having been (formerly I
suppose) Mrs. Sands her maid, was bold sometimes to bring his
lordship a caudle to his bedside, (for in charity I may surmise no
worse,) Sir Robert should also by chance come and host at the same
house. This bad wife and her good man, are made partakers and
parties of this stratagem; her part was but a naked part, via to
slip into my lord's bed in her smock; mine host must suddenly be
jealous, and swear that he holds his reputation, though he be but a
poor man, more dear than that he can endure such an indignity; and
thereupon calls Sir Robert Stapleton, brings him to the bishop's
chamber in his night-gown, takes them in bed together, with no small
exclamation. The knight, that acted his part with most art and least
suspicion, takes great pains to pacify the host, conjures all that
were admitted to secrecy and silence, and sending all to their
lodgings without tumult, asketh of my lord how this came to pass.
The bishop tells him with great protestation, that he was betrayed
by his man and his host, little suspecting the knight to be of the
quorum. The knight soothes him in all he said, condoles the great
mischance, is sorrowful for the danger, and careful for the honour
of the bishop, and specially the church.

Pro superi, quantum mortalia pectora caecae
Noctis habent? ipso sceleris molimine (miles)
Creditur esse pius.<501>

The distressed archbishop, distrusting no fraud in him, asketh his
advice in this disaster, and following his counsel from time to
time; gives the host a piece of money, the false officer a farm, and
the knight, for his travail, many friendly recompences. But when he
found, after all this smoothing and soothing, that he grew so bold
at last to press him beyond all good manner, for the good mannor of
Southwell, then he found that in sooth all was not well, and was
even compelled too late to do that he might much better have done
much sooner, viz, to complain to the Lords of the Council, and to
his ancient and dear friend the Earl of Leicester, (for whose father
he had almost lost his life,) by whose help he got them called to
the Star-chamber, ore tenus;<502> where they were, for this
conspiracy, convicted, fined, and imprisoned. The fame, or rather
infamy, of this matter, specially before their conviction, was far
and diversly spread, according as the reporters favored or
disfavored either: and the friends of each side had learned their
tale so perfect, that many long time after held the first impression
they had received, notwithstanding the censure and sentence in the
star-chamber; part whereof being, that the knight should publicly
acknowledge how he had slandered the archbishop, which he did in
words conceived to that purpose accordingly: yet his friends gave
out, that all the while he carried a long whetstone<503> hanging out
of the pocket of his sleeve, so conspicuous, as men understood his
meaning was to give himself the lie, which he would not in another
matter have taken of any man. But thus the bishop had a conquest
which he had no great comfort of, and lived but few years after it,
and the knight had a foil<504> that he would not seem much daunted
with, and lived to have part of his fine released by his Majesty's
clemency; but yet he tossed up and down all his life without any
great contentment, from Wiltshire into Wales, and thence to the Isle
of Man, a while to Chelsea but little to Yorkshire, where his
chiefest stay should have been; so that of this story I could
collect many documents, both for bishops and knights; but that I
shun prolixity in a matter no way pleasing.

Howbeit, because one P. R. or R. P.<505> (for he can turn his name
as a mountebank turns his cap,) in his epistle before the
Resolution, a book much praised by Sir Edwin Sands, hath a scoff,
after his manner, at this hostess of Doncaster; I would pray him but
to peruse the life of St. Bernard, not that of their lying legend,
but that which unworthily perhaps goeth among his most worthy works,
written by William Abbot in five books. There he shall find, in the
third chapter of his first book, how that same maidenly saint was
subject to a like manner of scandal; first of a young woman lying by
him naked in bed half a night, when himself was not 30 year old, and
yet we must believe he touched her not; and next of his hostess also
offering three times in one night to come to his bed, and he crying
out each time, Latrones, Latrones! "Thieves, Thieves!" which our
bishop had much more cause to have cried, and had he but remembred
it, as I doubt not but he had read it, he might peradventure have
dissolved the pack with it. To utter mine own conceit frankly, if
Parson's conjecture were true, that by human frailty this prelate
had in his younger days been too familiar with this woman, which is
said to pass but as a venial sin among those of his profession; yet
was the knight's practice very foul, and the lords' censure very
just that condemned him: for I heard Judge Anderson, a learned and
stout judge, condemn one for a rape, upon the oath of a married
woman, (notwithstanding the man affirmed, and the woman denied not
but she had often in former times yielded herself to his lust,)
because it seemed she had repented that course of life, in betaking
her to a husband. So my lord, if he had once such a fault, (yet now
that the fault had left him, as well as he the fault,) had just
cause to complain, and the knight's practise was blameworthy, to
seek to entrap him thereby, to the spoil of the church and disgrace
of his calling. And the archbishop did much nobler to hazard this
obloquy of some idle tongues, than to have incurred the greater
scandal of betraying his church. To conclude therefore; I wish all
squires and knights to be fuller of reverence toward bishops and
archbishops, and not to oppose or contest with them. The play of
chess (a game not devised for or by fools) may teach, that the
bishops due place is nearest the King, and though some knight can
leap better over the pawn's heads, yet oft-times he leaps short,
where the bishop's power, if you cross it, reacheth the length of
the whole province.



ARCHBISHOPS OF YORK:
Doctor John Piers.

Of this Doctor John Piers,<506> who lived and died a most reverent
prelate, I must (to give him the greater commendation) do like
those, that when they will enforce them to leap their farthest, go
back the contrary way some part of the ground, and by little and
little mending their pace, at last over-leap the mark themselves had
designed; so shall I look back into some part of his life, and show
first, how unlikely he was to come to such high honour and place as
he died in. For although he was a scholar towardly enough in his
youth, of good wit, and not the meanest birth, having a gentleman of
good sort to his brother: yet hasting to a competent stay of life,
he accepted of a small benefice in the country, as I take it near
Oxford, and there was in great hazard to have drowned all those
excellent gifts that came after to be so well esteemed and rewarded
in him. There first he was enforced to keep mean and rustical
company, that company enticed him to the German fashion, even then
grown too common in England, to sit whole nights in a tippling house
at ale and cakes, as Ennius and Cato are noted; of the former of
whom Horace saith,

Ennius ipse pater nunquam nisi potus ad arma
Prosiluit dicenda;<507>

and of the latter Martial saith;

Quod nimio gaudes noctem producere vino
Ignosco, vitium forte Catonis habes.<508>

Howbeit, this gentleman never met with such a disgrace by such
company as the parson of Lymington<509> had, whom our countryman Sir
Amias Pawlet, about a drunken fray, set in the stocks; and yet he
afterward proved both Archbishop of York, and one of the greatest
cardinals of Christendom. Neither do I bring these examples to
lessen this fault, as if I were to leave some aspersion hereof upon
him; my purpose is nothing less; for I am rather of that gentleman's
mind, that having by fatherly indulgence tolerated the humour of 
gaming and wenching in his son, disinherited him for drinking;
saying of the first, if he had wit he would not lose much by it; of
the second, that in time for his own ease he would leave it; but of
the third he said, he would prove the elder the viler, and hardly
ever amend it. Now therefore that I have showed you how this bishop
was in danger by this fault, let me also show you how he was freed
from it. Being once against Easter preparing, as well himself as
others, for receiving the holy communion, and making choice of a
discreet confessor, before whom he might pour out his soul, (a
custom as pitifully abused in those days, as disused in these,) he
declared to him, by the way, this disposition of his to company and
drinking. The preacher, like a true spiritual father indeed, no less
learnedly than zealously laying before him the enormity of such a
custom; did earnestly dehort him from it, affirming to him, that
though every particular excess in that kind, did not reach to a
habit, or height of mortal sin, (as one act of adultery, murder, or
false witness doth,) yet if it should grow to a habit, it were not
only an ugly scandal in that profession, but would draw also as bad
sins as itself with it. Behold a comfortable example, how where
nature is weakest grace can strengthen it. Upon this grave
admonition, he left first the vice, and after the company; and
following his study at the university more industriously than
before, he ascended worthily the degrees of doctor and dean, and
bishop and archbishop, and lived all his life not only continent but
abstinent. Of his continency, my author hath said sufficient; of his
abstinency this may be one proof, that being sickly toward his end,
he was so feareful to drink wine, though his stomach required it,
that his physician being a pleasant man, and loving a cup of wine
himself very well, was wont to say to him sometimes, "Now if your
grace will call for a cup of wine and drink to me, I warrant it will
never hurt you."



ARCHBISHOPS OF YORK:
Doctor Matthew Hutton.

I no sooner remember this famous and worthy prelate,<510> but I
think I see him in the chapel at Whitehall, Queen Elizabeth at the
window in the closet, all the lords of the parliament, spiritual and
temporal, about them, and then (after his three curtsies) that I
hear him out of the pulpit thundering this text: "The kingdoms of
the earth are mine, and I do give them to whom I will, and I have
given them to Nebuchadnezzar, and his son, and his son's son;"<511>
which text, when he had thus produced, taking the sense rather than
words of the prophet, there followed first, so general a murmur of
one friend whispering to another; then, such an erected countenance
in those that had none to speak to; lastly, so quiet a silence and
attention, in expectance of some strange doctrine, where text itself
gave away kingdoms and sceptres, as I have never observed either
before or since. But he, as if he had been a Jeremiah himself, and
not an expounder of him, showed how there were two special causes of
translating of kingdoms; the fullness of time, and the ripeness of
sin; that by either of these, and sometime by both, God in secret
and just judgments transferred sceptres from kindred to kindred,
from nation to nation, at his good will and pleasure; and running
historically over the great monarchies of the world, as the kingdom
of Egypt, and after of Israel, swallowed up by the Assyrians, and
the golden head of Nebuchadnezzar, the same head cut off by the
silver breast and arms of the Medes and Persians, Cyrus and Darius;
this silver consumed by the brazen belly and thighs of the Grecians
and Alexander, and the brasse stamped to powder by the iron legs of
the Romans and Caesar. Then coming nearer home, he showed how oft
our nation had been a prey to foreigners, as first when we were all
Britons subdued by these Romans; then, (when the fulness of time and
ripeness of our sin required it,) subdued by the Saxons; after this
a long lime persecuted and spoiled by the Danes; finally, conquered
and reduced to perfect subjection by the Normans; whose posterity
continued in great prosperity till the days of her Majesty, who, for
peace, for plenty, for glory, for continuance, had exceeded them
all; that had lived to change all her counsellors but one, all
officers twice or thrice, some bishops four times; only the
uncertainty of succession gave hopes to foreigners to attempt fresh
invasions, and breed fears in many of her subjects, of a new
conquest: "The only way then, (said he) that is in policy left to
quell those hopes, and to assuage these fears, were to establish the
succession." He noted that Nero was specially hated for wishing to
have no successor; that even Augustus was the worse beloved for
appointing an ill man to his successor, and at last, insinuating as
far as he durst the nearness of blood of our present sovereign, he
said plainly, that the expectations and presages of all writers went
northward, naming, without any circumlocution, Scotland "which,"
(said he) "if it prove an error, it will be found a learned error."

When he had finished this sermon, there was no man that knew Queen
Elizabeth's disposition, but imagined that such a speech was as
welcome as salt to the eyes, or, to use her own word, "to pin up her
winding sheet before her face, so to point out her successor, and
urge her to declare him:"—wherefore, we all expected that she would
not only have been highly offended, but in some present speech have
showed her displeasure. It is a principle not to be despised, qui
nescit dissimulare nescit regnare.<512> She considered, perhaps, the
extraordinary auditory, she supposed many of them were of his
opinion, she might suspect some of them had persuaded him to this
motion; finally, she ascribed so much to his years, to his place, to
his learning, that when she opened the window, we found ourselves
all deceived; for very kindly and calmly, without show of offence
(as if she had but waked out of some sleep) she gave him thanks for
his very learned sermon. Yet when she had better considered the
matter; and recollected herself in private, she sent two councillors
to him with a sharp message; to which he was glad to give a patient
answer. But, in this time that the lords and knights of parliament
and others were full of this sermon, a great peer<513> of the realm,
that was then newly recovered of an impediment in his hearing, (I
would he did hear no worse now,) being in great liking of the
archbishop for this sermon, prayed me to prove my credit with his
Grace to get a copy thereof, and to use his name if need were,
alleging<27> that impediment which caused, though he were present,
that he carried away little of it. I did so; and withal told, how
myself had stood so incommodiously by means of the great press as I
heard it not well, but was fain to take much of it on trust on other
men's report, who varied so, as some (I was sure) did him wrong. The
archbishop welcomed me very kindly, and made me sit with him a
pretty while in his lodging, but (in fine) told me plainly, he durst
give no copy, for that Sir John Fortescue<514> and Sir John
Wolley<515> (as I remember) had been with him from the Queen, with
such a greeting as he scant knew if he were a prisoner or a free
man, and that the speech being already ill taken, the writing might
exasperate that which was already exulcerate; so denied my suit, but
in so loving a fashion, as from that time to his end I did greatly
honour him, and laid up in my heart many good lessons I learned of
him: and it was not long ere the Queen was so well pacified, that he
went down with the presidentship of York, in the vacancies (half
against his will) committed to him; till afterward the Lord Burleigh
(now Earl of Exeter,<516>) of whose courage, fidelity, and religious
heart, the Queen had great assurance, was made the Lord President.

But to return to this archbishop; as he was in place but second, so
was he in learning, and specially in reading, not second to any in
his time; insomuch, as in Cambridge, long since, he was one of the
chosen disputers before the Queen; and a Jesuit, 26 years since,
disgracing our English students, as neglecting and not reading the
fathers, excepts this Matthew Hutton, and one famous Matthew<517>
more; and of this Hutton he saith, qui unus in paucis versares
patres dicitur; "who is one of those few that search the fathers."
For matters of the world I can say but that that is known to the
world; his eldest son is a knight of fair living, and now or lately
Sheriff of Yorkshire, and a man of very good reputation. One other
son he had, that an ill life brought to a worse end; his name was
Luke Hutton, so valiant that he feared not men nor laws, and for a
robbery done on St. Luke's day, for name's sake, he died as bad a
death,<518> I hope with a better mind, than the thief of whom St.
Luke writes, that he had our Saviour, if he were Christ, to save
himself and him. The archbishop showed herein the constancy and
severity worthy of his place; for he would not endeavour to save him
(as the world thought he easily might) deserving herein the praise
of justice, which Eli wanted, that was too indulgent of his son's
vices; and having hereby no blot but such as may sort him with the
great monarch of this last age, King Phillip, with two famous
warriors of the old Romans, Manlius and Brutus, and with the highest
priest, even Aaron. His own death was more happy than his life, to
die satur annorum, "full of years," and to see and leave "peace upon
Israel."



ARCHBISHOPS OF YORK:
Doctor Toby Matthew.

<519>The praises of a friend are partial or suspicious, of strangers
uncertain and not judicious, of courtly persons complemental and
mannerly, of learned and wise men more precious, of a prince most
cordial and comfortable; but of an adversary, though often
dangerous, yet never undeserved. What exceptions then can be taken
to his just praises, whom friends commend, strangers admire, nobles
embrace, the learned affect and imitate, his sovereigns have
advanced, and even his enemy and emulous cannot choose but extol and
approve. For Edmund Campion, (in his pamphlet of the ten
reasons,<520> which the Catholics count an epitome of all their
doctrine,) labouring to prove that the fathers were all papists, to
give the uttermost credit he can to his assertion, saith, that Toby
Matthews confessed to him so much, Pertentavimus (saith he)
aliquando familiariter Tobiam Matheum, qui nunc in concionibus
dominatur, quem propter bonus artes et virtutum semina dileximus:
"We did once in familiar sort sound Toby Matthew's opinion, he that
now domineers in your pulpits, whom, for his good learning and seeds
of virtue, we esteemed," &c. This then is the testimonial of their
champion, concerning his excellent gifts 27 years since. If this
commendation were then due, as, indeed, except it had been very due,
that pen would never have given it, what may we think of him now,
that for preaching may say with St. Paul, "I have laboured more than
ye all:" for reading lets no book pass, which, for author, matter,
or wit, hath any fame; who hath so happy a memory that no occasion
slips him, whether premeditate or sudden, either in public or
private, to make use of that he had not read. But it is worth the
hearing, which he answers to this calumniation, as well as
commendation, which answer being in a long and Latin sermon, ad
Clerum, I will not wrong so much to abbrevrate in this place, but
only for that same point, Qui in concionibus dominatur?<521> his
sharp and modest return I could not let pass, being but a line,
neque enim nostrum ministerium est dominatio, neque dominatio
ministerium; "For neither is our ministry any lordly authority, nor
your lordly command a true ministry." But his reading, learning,
preaching, is so well known to your Highness, as I do but lose
labour in recounting either general or particular praises thereof. I
will descend now to some personal matters, which though commonly
they are more captious for the writer, yet are they withal more
pleasing and acceptable to the reader. He was born of honest rather
than honourable parents; in the city of Bristol, which city,
standing in two counties, Somerset and Gloucester, might move both
countries hereafter to challenge him for their countryman, (as
divers cities of Greece did Homer,) if sometime himself would not
clear it, by saying he is a Somersetshire man; or to write it as he
speaks it, sportingly, a Zomeretshyre man. Showing a towardliness in
his very infancy to learning, he was set very young to school at
Wells; but over-running his schoolmasters' doctrine with his
docility, went quickly to Oxford; yet ere he went, he had a
marvellous misfortune; for even as if Satan had foreseen that he
should one day prove some excellent instrument of his service that
must bruise the serpents head, he forgat not to attempt his part,
insidiari calcaneo,<522> procuring him, in a plain easy way, so
terrible a fall, as broke his foot and small of his leg and ankle
almost all to pieces. But if the strong man procured this harm, a
stronger granted the remedy; for he was soon after so soundly cured,
as there remained after no sign or scar, no effect or defect, either
for sight or use, of this rupture. After his coming to Oxford, he
took all his degrees, so ripe in learning, and so young in age, as
was half a miracle. There it seems also the colleges strove for him,
he removed so oft; till he rested in that for which he was ordained
a principal vessel,—Christ Church. During his abode there, being
dean of Christ Church, it was hard to say, whether he was more
respected for his great learning, eloquence, authority, countenance
given him by the Queen, and the great ones; or beloved for his sweet
conversation, friendly disposition, bounty, that even then showed
itself, and above all, in cheerful sharpness of wit, that so sauced
all his words and behaviour, that well was he in the university that
could be in the company of Toby Matthew; and this name grew so
popular and plausible, that they thought it a derogation to their
love, to add any title of Doctor or Dean to it; but if they spake of
one of his men, (as he was ever very well attended,) they would say
Mr... or Mr..., Toby Matthew's man; yea even since he was bishop and
archbishop, some cannot leave that custom yet. Among some special
men that enjoyed and joyed most in his friendship and company in
Oxford, and in remembrance of it since they were sundered, was
Doctor Eades, late dean of Worcester, one whose company I loved, as
well as he loved his Toby Matthew. He, for their farewell upon his
remove to Durham, intending first to go with him from Oxford but one
day's journey, was so betrayed by the sweetness of his company and
their old friendship, that he not only brought him to Durham, but,
for a pleasant penance, wrote their whole journey in Latin verse;
which poem himself gave to me, and told me so many pretty apothegms
of theirs in their younger years, as might make a book almost by
itself. And because I write only for your Highness' pleasure, I will
hazard my Lord's displeasure, to repeat one or two of his, of one or
two hundred that Doctor Eedes, when he lived, could remember. Being
vice-chancellor in Oxford, some slight matters and men coming before
him, one was very importunate to have them stay for his council:—
"Who is of your council?" saith the vice-chancellor. Saith he, "Mr.
Leasted." "Alas," said the vice-chancellor, "no man can stand you in
less stead." "No remedy," saith the other, "necessity hath no law."
"Indeed," quoth he, "no more I think hath your councillor." In a
like matter another was to be bound in a bond very like to be
forfeited, and came in haste to offer it, saying, "he would be
bound, if he might be taken;"—"Yes," saith he, (Toby Matthew) "I
think you will be taken; what's your name?"—"Cox," saith the party;
(and so pressed as the manner is to come into the Court.) "Make him
room there," said he, "let Cox come in." Such facetious passages as
these, that are as delightful to the hearer as a fair course at tilt
is to the beholders, where the staff breaks both at the point and
counterbuff even to the hand: such, I say, a man might collect a
volume of, not at the second hand but at the first, that had been so
much in his company, and so oft at his board, as I have been, but
that I must keep good manner; remembering the Greek proverb, ????
??????? ???????? [Greek: Miso mnemona sympoten] odi memorem
compotorem.<523> And if your Highness had a fancy to hear more of
them, Mr. Davy Dromond can as well relate them as myself, both of us
having met in his Grace's dish sometimes, and tasted of this sauce.

Yet this kind of pleasantness that I repeat as one of his praises,
himself will most seriously check in himself, sometime as his fault
and infirmity, which he confesses he is enforced to use; sometime as
a recreation of his wearied spirits, after more painful<97> and
serious studies. And though in these conceits the wit might seem to
labour as much as in the gravest, and had need to carry as it were a
good bent to send them so smartly as they come ordinarily from him;
yet methink it may be fitly compared to a bow that will endure
bending the contrary way, and thereby come to cast the better in his
right bent; or, by a more homely comparison, to a true and tough
labourer in our country, that having sweat at hard labour all the
week, asketh no better refreshing than to sweat as fast with dancing
about the Maypole, or running at base,<524> or wrestling, upon the
holyday. Wherefore let himself call it his fault, (as I have heard
him oft,) and say that he knows such nugacity becomes not his place,
and lament that nature and custom have so fram'd him, that when he
ceases to be pleasant at his meat, he must cease to be. For my part,
I speak frankly, I will love this fault in him if it be a fault, and
be glad if I can follow it, having learnt an old rule of my mother-
in-law,<525>

At meat be glad,
For sin be sad:

and I will say hereafter for myself,

Haud metuam, si jam nequeo defendere crimen
Cum tanto commune viro:<526>

Or, as upon no unlike occasion, I wrote ten years since to Dr.
Eades.

Though Momus love men's lines and lives to scan,
He saith, he thinks me no dishonest man;
Yet one great fault of mine he oft rehearses,
Which is,—" I am too full of toys and verses:"
True, Momus, true, that is my fault I grant;
Yet when thou shalt thy greatest virtue vaunt,
I know some worthy sprites one may entice
To leave that greatest virtue, for this vice.

But if any will be so stoical as to make this confession of my
lord's grace (which is indeed of grace) to serve them for an
accusation, to give him thereby the nick-name of Nugax,<527> given
500 years past to Radulphus, archbishop of Canterbury, and successor
of the great Anselm, (as is noted in the Catalogue, p. 38,) I should
think them unjust and undiscreet to stir up new emulation between
Canterbury and York; but rather I might compare him with one of his
own predecessors in Durham, Cuthbert Tunstall,<528> (p. 532 of the
same book,) well worth the reading and remembering.<529>

In the meantime let me allay their censorious moode with this verse:

Qui sic nugatur tractantem ut seria vincat,
Hic tractaturus seria quantus erat.

But to draw to an end; I will tell one act of his of double piety,
done not long since. He made a journey, accompanied with a troop fit
for his calling, to Bristol, to see his mother, who was then living,
but not able to travel to him. After much kindness showed unto her,
and much bounty to the city, he went to visit his other mother of
Oxford, and coming near the town with that troop of his retinue and
friends to the water, it came into his mind how that time 40 year or
more, he passed the same water, as a young poor scholar, going to
Oxford; and remembering Jacob's words, In baculo meo transivi
Jordanem istum, &c. "With my staff I passed over this Jordan";<530>
and now I pass over again with these troops; he was so moved
therewith, that he alighted from his horse, and going apart, with
devout tears of joy and thankfulness, he kneeled down, and used some
like words.

It may seem pity that a man of so sweet and mild disposition should
have any cross, but he that sends them knows what is best for his.
He hath had one great domestical cross, though he bears it wisely;
not in his wife, for she is the best reported and reputed of her
sort I think in England, and they live together by St. Paul's rule,
utentes hoc mundo tanquam non utentes; "using the world as if they
used it not:"<531> but I mean such a cross as David had in his son
Absolom; for though he gave both consent and commission to prosecute
him, yet nature overcame displeasure, and forced him to cry,
"Absolom, my son, my son, I would I might suffer for thee, or in thy
stead, my son, my son."<532> For indeed this son of his, whom he and
his friends give over for lost, (yea worse than lost,) was likely
for learning, for memory, for sharpness of wit, and sweetness of
behaviour to have proved another Toby Matthew; neither is his case
so desperate, but that if he would believe Matthew better than Toby,
I would think yet there were hope to reclaim him.<533>



BISHOP OF DURHAM:
Doctor William James.

It is noted of Dionysius of Sicily, that he had no care of any
religion that was professed in his country, as neither had his
father before him, making but a sport to rob their Gods; taking away
Esculapius' beard of gold, because his father Apollo had no beard;
and Jupiter's golden cloak, saying it was too heavy for summer and
too cold for winter; yet used he to confer sometime with
philosophers, and have the choicest of them, and give them
honourable entertainment; which humour at last bred him this
commodity, that losing his crown he learned to bear poverty not only
without dismay, but with some disport. The like I may say of a late
great Earl<534> of this realm, son of a great duke, who though he
made no great conscience to spoil the church livings no more than
did his father, yet for his reputation, or perhaps for his
recreation, he would have some choice and excellent men for his
chaplains of both universities; as Doctor Toby Matthew, now
Archbishop of York; Doctor John Still, Bishop of Bath and Wells; and
this prelate that I am now to speak of, Doctor James,<535> then Dean
of Christ Church. And this hope of comfort came to his lordship
thereby, that if it pleased God to impart any mercy to him, (as his
mercy indureth for ever!) it was by the special ministery of this
man, who was the last of his coat that was with him in his sickness.

Concerning this bishopric it is formerly noted by mine author, (pag.
533,) that it was once dissolved by act of parliament in the
minority of King Edward 6, what time the two new Dukes of Somerset
and Northumberland (like the soldiers that cast lots for Christ's
garment) divided between them patrimonium crucifixi;<536> namely,
the two good bishoprics of Bath and Durham: one being designed as a
seat for the western duke; the other for the northern. And whereas
by an old metamorphosis, the Bishop of Durham had been made Earl of
Northumberland; now, by a new apotheosis, the Duke of Northumberland
would have been Bishop of Durham: but qui despixit de coelo
deridebat eos.<537> That visible hand that wrote in the wall while
Balthazar was quaffing in the holy vessels; that hand, though
invisibly, weighed these petty monarchs in the balance of God's
judgements, found them too light; and because they should not grow
too long, they were both cut shorter by the head: the bishoprics
restored to what they now are, by Queen Mary; one being in
substance, the other by accident of leaden mines, two of the best
bishoprics of England, and as worthy bishops they have had,
specially this. Two of them, namely two Matthews, are spoken of in
the title of York. There remains now this third, who having had yet
scant a year and a day, as they say, I have the less to speak as of
a bishop. But that examining by the infallible square set down by
St. Paul to Timothy, chap. 3, for choice of a bishop, he will be
found as worthily chosen as any. For his learning it may be
sufficient to say he was Dean of Christ Church; which, as I have
said formerly, none attains to but choice men, and there are sermons
of his extant in print that testify no less. For hospitality, which
is a special praise of a bishop, he showed in Oxford his disposition
thereto in that less ability; and for both at once, at the coming of
divers great states; and lastly, 15 years past of the Queen herself,
before whom he preached, and to whom he gave so good entertainment,
as her Majesty commended the order and manner of it long after:
which commendation of well setting out and ordering a feast, I
should have thought of the less moment, if I did not find in
Plutarch, in the life of Paulus Emilius, (a great captain and
conqueror, and otherwise a man of much virtue and temperance,) the
well ordering of a feast to be esteemed not one of his least
commendations.<538>

But I will conclude with a greater and more worthy commendation; and
which I could wish, as it is exemplar, so it might be followed in
all ensuing bishops. For whereas Durham house had been granted to
Queen Elizabeth only during her life, when few thought that such a
house should have proved too little for her estate: it fortuned,
after she was Queen, this house to be neglected, according to the
proverb, (not unfit to be applied to his learning that first built
it,) praestat esse caput asini quam cauda leonis. Among other rooms
the chapel was not only profaned but even defaced. This good bishop,
the first thing he doth at his coming, repairs this chapel, and
furnisheth it within in comely and costly sort; for which good mind
and act, I doubt not but God will build him a house, toward which he
shall ever have my best wishes.



BISHOP OF CARLISLE:
Doctor Henry Robinson

This bishopric, as my author hath touched, (pag. 540, and 543,) hath
been so fortunate to have yielded two singular examples of fidelity
and loyalty of prelates to their sovereign: one of especial mark,
worthy to be canonized with the patron of Venice, St. Mark, was also
named Marks, commended here by my author, and no less worthily
extolled by Mr. Samuel Daniel, in his excellent poem of the civil
wars of Lancaster and York. The other was Bishop Oglethorp, who when
all the bishops of England refused to crown Queen Elizabeth because
of her religion, yet he, being himself of a contrary religion,
performed it. Neither of these received their reward in this world,
that they were worthy: Marks being removed from Carlisle to Samos in
Greece,<540> viz. out of God's blessing into a warm sun, as the
saying is; Oglethorp enduring deprivation, because even at the
coronation he would not omit the ceremony of elevation. Howbeit, it
is supposed if he had not so suddenly after died of the grief,<541>
her Majesty would have made some special respect of him above all
his fellows; which I speak not upon mere conjecture, but upon some
speech of her Majesty used to the present bishop that now is; for
when she received his homage, she gave many gracious words to him of
her good opinion, for his learning, integrity, and sufficiency to
the place; concluding, that she must ever have a care to furnish
that place with a worthy man, "for his sake (said she) that set my
crown first on my head;" and many words to like effect, as the
bishop<542> himself hath partly told me. He seems a man of great
gravity, and temperance, very mild in his speech, but not of so
strong a constitution of body as his countenance. doth promise. But
having seen his see never, and himself but seldom, I must content me
of him with this short relation.



BISHOP OF CHESTER:
Doctor George Flood, or Lloyd.

Of this new bishopric, and new lord bishop<543> also, I have very
little to say; and I need say the less, because your Highness hath
heard him preach, often, and very well. I call him a new lord
bishop, because though he were a bishop before, yet was he not
thereby a lord of the parliament house; howbeit, his title before
sounded to the vulgar ear more universal than either Rome or
Constantinople, namely Bishop of Man. But from thence he was
translated to Chester, the chief city of that shire, that some call
chief of men; which shire having a special temporal blessing to
abound, not with milk and honey, as the land of promise, but with
milk and salt, a matter more necessary in sacrifice; I wish it may
also flow in spiritual blessings, and doubt not but that by the
irrigation rather than inundation of this Flood they shall increase
in them; and as our Saviour commands to join peace with salt. And
especially I wish that blessing to their neighbours beyond the salt
water, I mean in Ireland; who though they have milk, and are so weak
in faith they cannot yet disgest hard meat, yet for want of this
salt and peace, they make many go of pilgrimage to Westchester
against their wills from both realms, some of whom the Bishop of
Chester was wont to entertain in kind sort, as myself can testify,
and this bishop I hear doth herein succeed also his worthy
predecessor Doctor Vaughan.



CONCLUSION
Of the Lives of Bishops

Thus have you, most highly esteemed and entirely beloved Prince,
this unworthy Supplement of mine to the worthy work of a more worthy
man. It is grown into greater length than I expected, by reason I
took some kind of pleasure with the pain of writing hereof;
supposing I was all the while, as it were, telling a story in your
Highness' presence and hearing. Now if any that favour not the
persons I write of, nor the purpose I write for, happen to sport at
this my fashion of writing to your Highness, as Tigranes jested at
Lucullus' army, saying, if he came as an ambassador his train was
too great; if as a warrior, his troop was too small: <544> so if
they say, this treatise for an epistle is too long, for a history
too little; I will also hope that this, whether long epistle or
short relation, shall have like success in your Highness
approbation, as that contemptible army had, to conquer their
contemners.

In the meantime my soul shall join with all the good bishops I have
written of, and other good subjects spiritual or temporal, to send
up our continual and devout prayers to Almighty God, that your
Highness may increase daily in all good gifts and graces, and in
favour with God and men: to answer the hope of those kingdomes that
you are born to, of so many godly, noble, and imperial families, as
you are descended from, so magnificent an uncle, so excellent a
mother, and so admirable a father.

18 February, 1607.

FINIS.



Notes

Many of these notes come from the source edition. Those added by the
transcriber are indicated by (TN). Additions to source notes are
indicated by [TN]
1. Mélange surannée: "A mixture of old things." (TN)
2. Nugacious or supererogatory: Unimportant or superfluous. (TN)
3. Sir Robert is the person said to be attainted at Leicester, i.
Hen. VII. in Harl. MS. 1549; but Holinshed speaks of Robert and
James as both attainted. They originally derived their name from a
place called Haverington, in the county of Cumberland, and continued
barons thereof for many generations. See Dugdale's Baronage, tom.
ii. p. 99.
4. Which John (according to Wood) was the son of Alexander,
descended from a younger brother of the Haringtons of Brierley, in
Yorkshire. Athen. Oxon. i. 582; also Harl. MS. ut sup.
5. "After the dissolution of religious houses, King Henry VIII. in
the thirty-eighth year of his reign, granted this manor, with those
of Bath-Easton and Katherine, and the capital messuage* called
Katherine's Court, to John Malte and Ethelred Malte, alias Dyngley,
the king's natural daughter, by Joanna Dyngley, alias Dobson; which
Ethelred was committed to the care of the said Malte, who was the
King's tailor, for education: and the king, having special love and
regard for her, granted these estates for her use and benefit; but
she always passed for Malte's natural daughter. She was shortly
after married to John Harington, Esq. a confidential servant of the
king, who thus obtained the several estates abovementioned," and
settled at Kelston about 1546. Collinson's Somersetshire, i. 128.
Another branch was possessed of very considerable estates in Rutland
and Lincolnshire, from which were descended John Lord Harington, of
Exton, and James Harington, author of Oceana; respecting which work
a ridiculous blunder occurs in the Public Characters for 1799-1800,
under the article of Dr. Harington, where the "OCEANA," a folio
volume, is said to be "inserted in the PREFACE of the Hugo
Antiques," (meaning Nugae Antiquae,) which consisted of five octavo
pages!!
[* Messuage: A house and the surrounding property specifically
belonging to the house, i.e. outbuildings, garden etc., but not
including a farm or estate. Capital messuage: The one occupied by
the owner of several messuages. [TN]
6. See State of the Church, under the head of Winchester.
7. See Collision's Somersetshire, ubi sup.["as referred to
above"[TN]
8. See his New Year's Gift to King James.
9. The respect and gratitude which Sir John testified for Bishop
Still, are extremely pleasing; and the high character given of him
in the State of the Church, is equally creditable to the giver and
receiver.
10. This, I am informed by Mr. Walker, was the story of Gioconda in
Book xxviii, which was handed about, anonymously, in the court of
Elizabeth. Happening to fall into the hands of the Queen, she
enquired the name of the translator. On hearing the version was the
production of Harington, she sent immediately for him, and severely
reprimanded him for endangering the morals of her maids of honour,
by putting into their hands so indecorous a tale; and, as a
punishment, ordered him to retire to his country-seat, and not
appear again in her presence till he could produce a complete
version of the whole poem. This anecdote was imparted to Mr. Walker
by the late Earl of Charlemont. Such a mode of punishment, however,
was increasing the nature of the offence: It was somewhat like
making a man commit burglary, in order to screen himself from the
penalties of petty larceny.
11. Fuller has erroneously inscribed it to the Princess Elizabeth,
afterward Queen of Bohemia. Mr. Ellis, an excellent judge, terms the
version 'inaccurate and feeble.' Francis Harington, the younger
brother of Sir John, furnished the first fifty stanzas of Book
xxxii. The wife of this gentleman, and the wife of Sir John, were
two of the female train who followed the mourners at Lord Burleigh's
funeral. Vid. Harl. MS. 2358.
12. Mr. Steevens has observed, in his edition of Shakspeare, 1793,
(vol. 5, p. 354,) that "a licence was refused for printing this
book, and the author was forbid the court for writing it.'
Notwithstanding these inhibitions, the tract was actually thrice
printed in the course of one year; and two of the editions bear the
name of the publisher.
13. Worthies of Somerset, p. 28.
14. Ordinary: A meal provided at a set time for a fixed price at an
inn or tavern. (TN)
15. The son of Sir Edward Rogers, who fled into France to avoid the
persecution in the reign of Queen Mary, but returning on the
accession of Elizabeth, was appointed comptroller of the houshold.
See Mr. Lodge's valuable Illustrations of British History, i. 307.
16. This is shown by an epigram addressed "to his wife, after they
had been married fourteen year".
17. To the truth of this observation, which proceeded from the
former editor of this work, (whose family partiality therefore may
be pardoned,) a very serious objection must be made by those who
trace the conduct of our author in his dealings with Mr. Sutton, and
who have patience to read the following charges against him,
collected from the Talbot papers in the Heralds' College:
"Notes of a suit in the Star chamber, between Edward Rogers,
Esquire, son and heir-at-law of Lady Rogers, and Sir John
Harington, Knight, son-in-law to Lady Rogers, and others,
defendants;" who, being informed that the lady was not likely
to live many days, went to Cannington, (without the consent of
Lady Rogers) entered the mansion in the company of one
Backwaye, the Lady Rogers' man, and several others, armed;
rifled the house, broke open trunks, chests, and desks, to the
number of 40 or 50, took from thence plate, gold, silver, and
other things, sent them to his own house, and continued this
plundering violence, or "ryott," (as the document expresses
it) for three days. Lady Rogers was much enraged when she knew
of these proceedings, gave Sir John ill words, and said "he
should repent:"—nay, she was irritated, according to one part
of the report, to strike him. On the 18th of January, 1601,
her ladyship died; upon which all her servants were locked in
a chamber for four days, that they might not give notice of
her death: no bells were rung or tolled, no neighbour was
informed of her decease, but every precaution was taken to cut
off all intelligence, and Sir John procured a warrant to
apprehend one Middleton, whom he suspected would communicate
the report of this event. At length, Sir John is represented
to have entered the house in the night, with weapons, and to
have sent the Lady Rogers's servants from thence:—but he then
affirmed she was still alive, refused to deliver the
possession of the place to her son, (the lawful heir) again
rifled the house, burned writings, &c. Sir John being demanded
the cause of such proceedings, by Henry Stone, answered—"I
should have nothing from thence, and now I came to let
Cannington house and demesnes to you, for three hundred
pounds."
Sir John's defence ran thus:
— That Lady Rogers ever purposed that Edward Rogers should
have neither lands nor goods of hers.
— That, on the 13th of January, 1601, Sir John had the keys
delivered to him by Lady Rogers, and her man Backway appointed
to attend him to Cannington.
— That the Lady Rogers did not dislike with his going there,
but her disquiet arose the next day, from the arrival of
Middleton, her son's man.
– That Sir John behaved himself quietly on his second visit,
and sustained much wrong by Mr. Edward Rogers, (the
plaintiff,) of which he had complained in the court of Star-
chamber, where he had a bill depending: neither was there
anything proved of defacing evidences, &c. Vol. M. fol. 249.
18. Mr. Malone remarks that "Sir John Harington was, by the
unanimous consent of his own age, considered as a man of
extraordinary wit; though his writings would not at this day gain
him so high a reputation. They prove however, decisively, that what
Dryden would call clenches, was then considered as sterling wit."
Life of Dryden, i. 244.
19. On this occasion he wrote the following lines "to his wife, from 
Chester."
"When I from thee, my dear, last day departed,
Summon'd by Honour to this Irish action,
Thy tender eyes shed tears; but I, hard-hearted,
Took from those tears a joy and satisfaction.
Such for her spouse (thought I) was Lucrece' sadness,
Whom to his ruin tyrant Tarquin tempted:
So mourned she,* whose husband feigned madness,
Thereby from Trojan wars to stand exempted.
Thus, then, I do rejoice in that thou grievest,
And yet, sweet fool, I love thee thou believest."
* Penelope.
20. See Sir John Harington's Report.
21. He had been knighted in the field by Lord Essex, which gave much
offence to the Queen, who was a great economist in such honours, or
at least was inclined to bestow them with her own hand., Vid.
Camden, &c.
22. The conversation which took place during one of these visits is
detailed by Sir John in A letter to Sir Amias Pawlett.
23. This copy is now reposited in the British Museum, and has
enabled the present editor to supply many defects, and to correct
many hallucinations, in Mr. Harington's reprint of Dr. Chetwind's
faulty text.
24. See New Biog. Dict. Art. Harrington, and Muses' Lib.
25. He was visited at Kelston, on the 18th of May, 1612.  by Robert,
Earl of Salisbury, who found him "sick of a dead palsy." See
Bowles's Diary, in Desid. Cur. vi. 13. But he did not die till the
December following.
26. A MS. copy is in the public library, Cambridge, and contains
nine or ten epigrams which had not appeared in print, till they were
inserted by Mr. Reed in the European Magazine for Jan. 1789. A
transcript of them was obligingly made by Mr. Professor Porson, for
the present work, before this circumstance was known to the editor.
That the epigrams of Harington were popular in their day, is
attested by the successive impressions they underwent; but they have
little now to recommend them, unless for the purpose of contemporary
illustration. By friendship or flattery, however, a poetical
longevity was decreed to them in the following lines:—
Still lives the Muses' Apollonean son,
The Phoenix of his age, rare HARINGTON!
Whose Epigrams, when time shall be no more
May die, perhaps, but never can before,"
	Beedome's Poems, 1641.
Other encomiastic verses to the honour of our facetious knight, may
be seen in the epigrams of Fitzgeffrey, Stradling, Owen, Hayman,
Sheppard, Davies of Hereford, &c.
27. Allege: To offer as a justification or evidence (TN)
28. Lady-day: 25th March, the feast of the Annunciation. Michaelmas:
29th September, the feast of St. Michael the Archangel. (TN)
29. Bruited: i.e. reported. So Churchill—"Let it be bruited all
about the town."
30. Sir William W—: Wood, a clerk of the council, says Mr. Malone.
31. Qu. Admiral? probably Charles Howard, E. of Nottingham.
32. Militavi non sine gloria: "I have soldiered, not without glory"
(TN)
33. Sir Mathew: Forsan ["perhaps" [TN] Sir Mathew Arundel?
34. In te speravi, Domine. ["In thee O Lord I put my trust." [TN]
Psalm. 71. Much in unison with the pathetic aspiration of Wolsey, at
the close of his courtly career, when the tide of royal favour was
turned against him.
35. Sir Ralph H—: Forsan ["perhaps" [TN] Horsey?
36. Cœlum ipsum petimus stultitia: "In our foolishness, we try to
reach heaven itself." Horace, Odes. Bk. I Od. 3 l. 38.(TN)
37. Trenchering: i.e. eating: trenchers [wooden platters [TN]] being
then used instead of plates. See Orders for Household Servants.
38. Reins: Kidneys (TN)
39. Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum: Happy are they who
can learn caution from the danger of others (TN)
40. My Lord of London: Qy. Bishop Elmer, or Bancroft?
41. He served this office, according to Fuller, in 1591: sed quaere
1592? See the prefix to Orders for Household Servants. In two of the
Harleian MSS. he is described as a justice of peace for
Somersetshire, A. D. 1601.
42. Printed in his Epigrams, Lib. iv. Ep. 13, and entitled, The
author to Queen Elizabeth, in praise of her reading.
43. Sith: Since (TN)
44. Sir George Carew: Lieutenant of the Ordnance.
45. Sir William Knollys: Comptroller of the Household.
46. See the letters of Mr. ROb. Markham and Sir ROb. Sidney.
47. Philip II: He died Sept. 13, 1598.
48. Sir Thomas Wilkes; from whom several letters occur in the Sidney
papers, vol i. where some account of him is given. He died in 1598.
Sir Robert Cecil was his colleague in his last embassy to France.
49. Discourse: i.e. conversation.
50. Mens sana in corpore sano: "A healthy mind in a healthy body."
(TN)
51. Oves and boves: "Sheep and cattle." (TN)
52. Sir Griffin Markham, having been concerned in a conspiracy with
Raleigh and others, in 1603, received sentence of death, but was
reprieved on the scaffold, and retired in indigence to the Low
Countries, where he became a spy to Sir Tho. Edmonds. See Lodge's
Illustr. and Birch's Q. Eliz.
53. It appears from Bowles's Diary, printed in Peck's Desid. Cur.
Lib. vi. p. 13, that a Mr. Bellot, probably the same person here
mentioned, was steward and one of the executors to Robert Cecil,
Earl of Salisbury.
54. Black Sanctus: See The Prologue to the Metamorphosis of Ajax.
(TN)
55. Thomas Tallis, says the learned and liberal Dr. Burney, was one
of the greatest musicians, not only of thy country but of Europe,
during the sixteenth century, in which so many able contrapuntists
were produced. He was born early in the reign of Hen. VIII. and died
in 1585. Gen. Hist. of Music, iii. 71.
56. Haud passibus aequis: "With unequal steps" i.e.in fits and
starts. (TN)
57. O dies procul esto: "May the day be far off." (TN)
58. Alearis: Of chance; quasi alearis: Mainly of chance (TN)
59. Tables: Backgammon (TN)
60. Ludam, et fiam vilior: From 2 Samuel (by some called 2 Kings)
6:22. The full quotation is Et ludam, et vilior fiam plus quam
factus sum: et ero humilis in oculis meis: "I will play, and I will
be baser than I have been, and I will be lowly in my own sight." One
thinks that Harington might be a bit tongue-in-cheek quoting this in
favour of playing. (TN)
61. Wilton walls: The Countess of Pembroke's.
62. So Hamlet of Polonius: "He's for a tale of bawdry, or he
sleeps."
63. Populo ut placerent quas fecissent fabulas: "They would tell
fabulous tales to please the public." Terence, Prologue to Andria.
(TN)
64. Scurra vagus, &c.: Horace, Letters. Bk. I. Letter 15. (TN)
65. Ne quid nimis: Nothing in excess" (TN)
66. Pleasant conceited: A favourite mode of expression in the. time
of our author. Thus some of Shakspeare's plays were recommended, in
their editiones principes,["First editions" [TN] as "pleasant
conceited histories and comedies."
67. Fond: i.e. Foolish
68. Hardly: with difficulty. (TN)
69. Scantfully: i.e. narrowly; scarcely.
70. Eat and drink, and rose up again to play: Exodus 32:6 and 1
Corinthians 10:7. (TN)
71. Cinque and quarter: Five and four, in dice-playing. (TN)
72. Quaere Aegistus, &c.: Ovid, The Cure of Love, l. 161-2. (TN)
73. Seven devils: See Luke 11:24-5. (TN)
74. Pricking in clouts: Occupying themselves with needlework. (TN)
75. The King: Henry VIII.
76. This dear year: Qu. 1595 or 7? Archbishop Whitgift speaks of the
great dearth of corn and victuals, in a letter to Dr. Chaderton,
dated May, 1595, printed by Peck; and Dr. Abbot, in his sermon at
the funeral of the Earl of Dorset, specifies the year 1597, as a
time of extraordinary scarcity.
77. Magnifical: Ostentatious.
78. Primero: A card game resembling poker. See Wikipedia. (TN)
79. Portegue: A gold coin, value 3l 10s 0d.
80. Crastino animarum: The 3rd of November. (TN)
81. The rial and noble were each of fifteen shillings value, in the
reign of Elizabeth. See Leake's Hist. Acc. of Eng. Money.
82. Demetrius: See Acts 19:24-40 (TN)
83. Brave: i.e costly.
84. Fervet avaritia, &c.: Horace, Letters, Bk. I Lett. 1. To
Maecenas l. 33-5 (TN)
85. Tully's Offices: i.e. De Officiis by Cicero. (TN)
86. Civilians: Lawyers specialising in civil law. (TN)
87. Ghostly father: Spiritual adviser or confessor. (TN)
88. How can one love God &c.: 1 John 4:20 (TN)
89. Obsta principiis, &c.: Ovid, The Cure of Love, l. 91-92. (TN)
90. Pope Julio: Now called Pope Joan.[A card game. [TN]
91. Nasuti: Good losers.
92. Ferro, non auro, &c.: Cicero, De Officiis, 1.12. (TN)
93. Dolus, an virtus, &c.: Virgil, Aeneid, Bk. II l. 390. (TN)
94. Domingo: Qu. Jester to the King? Monsieur Domingo is the subject
of an epigram in "Humours Ordinary," 1607.
95. Customer: One who invites custom.
96. Cheap: Cheapside, an area in the City of London. (TN)
97. Painful: Hard-working. (TN)
98. Fondly: Foolishly. (TN)
99. Tankard-bearer: A waiter. See Whalley's Ben Jonson.
100. Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, has recited a no less
risible instance of hypochondriacal affection, in a baker, of
Ferrara, who thought he was composed of butter, and durst not sit in
the sun, or come near a fire, for fear of being melted. p. 248,
Edit. 1620.
101. Sumpters: Horses employed to carry necessaries for a journey.
102. The sovereign was a gold coin, value twenty shillings.
103. Sir Hugh Portman: "Of Orchard, in the county of Somerset; a
good housekeeper, a builder, and a substantial freeholder."
Harington's Apology. Sir John has two epigrams addressed to him,
lib. i. 31, ii. 97. The latter begins—"At your rich Orchard"—
alluding to his country seat.
104. Lord Treasurer: Lord Burleigh: who died Aug. 4, 1598.
105. Quando ullum inveniat parem: "From where shall his like come
again?" Horace, Odes, Bk. 1. Ode. 24. l. 8. (TN)
106. Hatton: Qy. whether this may allude to Sir Henry Coke, the
second husband of Lady Hatton? who is introduced, in Winwood's
Memorials, as refusing "to let her Mr. Attorney lie either with her,
or within her chamber, till he have performed all covenants made to
her at her marriage." vol. ii. p. 40.
107. Levius sit patientia, &c.: "Patience makes more endurable
whatever we cannot change." Horace, Odes, Bk. 1. Ode. 24. l. 19-20.
(TN)
108. Sir William Warren had the command of fifty horse and a hundred
foot. Moryson's Itinerary.
109. The beginning of the 45th canto:
"Look; how much higher Fortune doth erect
The climbing wight, on her unstable wheel,
So much the nigher may a man expect
To see his head where late he saw his heel
On t'other side, the more man is oppressed
And utterly o'erthrown by Fortune's lower;
The sooner comes his state to be redressed,
When wheel shall turn and bring the happy hour.
110. My lord: Lord Essex.
111. Sir Henry Harington: Cousin to Sir John.
112. Sir Griffin Markham was a colonel of horse in the forces sent
against Tyrone. Three Markhams: The sons of Mr. Robert Markham, of
Cottum.
113. Moryson, in his Itinerary, speaks of an Earl of Kildare as cast
away in a little bark with some other gallant gentlemen in his
passage to Ireland; Leland proceeds farther, and says, he was
drowned; but this letter invalidates such a report.
114. The Curlews: Mountains, so called
115. Sir Henry Davers: Or Danvers, afterward Earl of Danby. He
ranked as lieutenant-general in the Irish expedition, and was twice
wounded, in different engagements.
116. Cazamats: i.e. casemates, loop-holes in a fortified wall.
117. Cassock: Or casaque, appears to have been what is now termed a
horseman's coat.
118. Venetians: The French gave this name, as Mr. Douce informs me,
to a cloth originally manufactured at Venice, and, as he supposes,
imitated in Kent. This cloth would give name to the habit made of
it, which probably resembled our modern pantaloons. In a very
curious poetical MS. belonging to the Rev. Mr. Todd, and
particularly described in his edition of Milton, vol. v. p. 443, a
tailor is said to have received
"Three yards of 3 pile velvet, and 3 quarters,
To make Venetians down beneath the garters."
119. Mr. Anthony Standen was a Roman Catholic, whose religious zeal
induced him to leave England about 1563, and enter into the service
of Mary Queen of Scots, upon whose misfortunes in 1565, he quitted
Britain, and became a pensioner to the King of Spain. He was
afterwards secretly engaged in the services of Queen Elizabeth, from
whom he obtained a pension, and the honour of knighthood. See
Birch's Memoirs of the reign of Q. Eliz.
120. Qaeque ipse, &c.: "I myself saw these things in all their
horror, and I bore great part in them." Virgil, Aeneid, Bk. II v. 5-
6. (TN)
121. Forlorn hope: A group of elite soldiers selected to go ahead of
the main body of troops when advancing. (TN)
122. The governor . . . lost his life: On the 14th of September,
according to Fynes-Moryson.
123. The resentment shown by Queen Elizabeth, when an attempt was
made to poison the bloody and dangerous rebel Rory Og, is adduced by
Chettle as an instance of her Majesty's good faith even with
traitors. England's Mourning Garment.
124. This circumstance was previously related by Sir John Harington,
in his notes to the 12th book of Orlando Furioso; where Sir Henry's
band, who surrounded the little hovel of Rory Og, were said to
consist of 100 men. Lord Essex, however, highly disapproved the
conduct of Sir Henry Harington, and only forbore to bring him before
a court martial because he was a privy-councillor of Ireland. This
appears from the Earl's letter to the Lords of the Council, in Bibl.
Cotton. Tit. B: xiii. See also Birch's Mem. of Q. Eliz.
125. This Journal was suggested by Mr. Robert Markham, and exhibited
to Queen Elizabeth at her express desire and command, though the
author says he did not intend it should be seen by any eyes but
those of his own children. (See his Letter to Mr. Robert Markham,
1606.) It appears to have assisted in drawing down much displeasure
against the Earl of Essex and his military associates in the Irish
expedition.
126. Lord Grey, perhaps from this indignity, became the determined
enemy of Lord Essex and of Lord Southampton. The latter he publicly
assaulted in the streets of London, for which he was committed to
the Fleet; and the former he appears to have aimed at outwitting, by
a piece of political jockeyship, as Rowland Whyte reported to Sir
Robert Sidney. Camden, however, relates the circumstance in a
different manner.
127. Targets: small shields. (TN)
128. Battle: The main force of an army. (TN)
129. Champion: Open ground. (TN)
130. Kern: A lightly-armed Irish foot-soldier. (TN)
131. Harquebus: A very heavy flintlock musket which was supported
for firing on a tripod or long rod with a fork at the top. (TN)
132. Frontering: opposing.
133. Sir Henry Norris: Qy. The brother of Sir John Norris? whom
Davies, in his Scourge of Folly, has commemorated as one of
England's nine Worthies.
134. Sir John Norris was sent over to Ireland in 1595, to assist the
Lord Deputy Russel. Camden gives him the character of "a man
thoroughly trained up to military discipline, and valiant against
all dangers." He died in 1597.
135. Strata cooperta: Covered levels. (TN)
136. Sir John here talks as fluently as Hotspur Percy did,
"Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets;
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin;
And all th' occurrents of a heady fight."
Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 1, Act II Sc. 3
In the epigrams ascribed by Drummond of Hawthornden to Sir John
Davis, the use of such warlike words is ridiculed in Gallus, a
military fop,
"Who talks of counterscarps, and casemates,
Of parapets, of curtenays, pallisadoes,
Of flankers, ravelin, gabions, he prates,
And of false baits, and sallies, and escaladoes."
Epig. 24
137. Lieut. Busshell: This name is supplied from A journal of the
occurrences of the camp in Ireland, during part of the year 1599.
Cotton MSS. Tit. B. xiii.
138. 30, says the Journal, before cited.
139. Gross: The main body of an army. (TN)
140. This Sir Thomas Davers, son and heir to Sir John, on returning
from his travels in 1593, was committed to the Marshalsea for having
kissed the Pope's toe. See Birch's Mem. of Q. Eliz. reign. Vol. I.
141: My Lord Keeper: Sir Thomas Egerton; created Baron of Ellesmere
in 1603, and Viscount Brackley in 1616. Ob. 1617.
142. Dr. Eaton: Or Heaton; consecrated bishop of Ely in the end of
the year 1599, according to Dr. Godwin. See vol. ii. p. 106.
143. Mr. Edmondes: Afterward Sir Thomas; ambassador to the court of
France, &c.
144. One: The Earl of Essex may be here alluded to.
145. Manchet: Fine white bread. Succory pottage: a thick soup made
from the leaves of Cichorium Intybus, also known as Chicory, which
wase believed to have medicinal properties, especially against
ailments of the stomach and liver. See Gerard's Herbal Bk. 2 ch. 29.
(TN)
146. The Queen's dissatisfaction at the Irish order of knighthood
conferred on Captain Harington, seems to have been a matter of much
notoriety. Rowland Whyte, in a letter to Sir Robert Sydney, dated
Nov. 10, 1599, thus speaks of it: "Sir John Harington is newly
arrived out of Ireland, and the Queen is offended with him for going
for his knighthood. He was with Tyrone in the company of Sir William
Warren, and reports him to be very strong. Sir Jeffrey Fenton is
directed from hence to treat with. him, but this new knight's
opinion is, that he will either not hear him, or not believe
anything from any but my Lord of Essex." Letters and Memorials of
State, published by Arthur Collins, 1746.
147. City business: The insurrection of Essex, &c. (1601)
148. Lady Arundel: This, as Mr. Malone intimates, may have been the
wife of Sir Matthew Arundel, or of Thomas, Lord Arundel of Wardour,
who, though not created a baron till James came to the throne, was
Count of the empire before; and his wife might be styled Lady.
149. Venus plus quam venusta: "More than lovely Venus." (TN)
150. Table: i.e. tablet: so Shakspeare, in Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5.
"—from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records."
151. This laterna secreta* was evidently fabricated at a moment when
the lamp of life grew dim in the frame of Queen Elizabeth, and she
began to "bear show of human infirmity." It is curious as a relique
of court-craft, but it displays a 'darkness visible' in the
character of our politic knight, and proves that he was an early
worshipper of the regal sun which rose in the north, though his own
"Brief Notes and Remembrances" would seem to indicate a different
disposition.
[*Lanterna secreta: A dark lantern, i.e. one which is enclosed
except for a lens which throws a spot of light. Used principally by
burglars.[TN]
152. David II. King of Scots, is reported to have been confined in
Nottingham castle, and during that confinement to have sculptured
the passion of our Saviour on the walls of his apartment: but Camden
records the tradition, without giving it much credence, and Stow
does not contribute to its establishment as an historical fact. See
Deering's History of the Town of Nottingham, and Thoroton's History
of the County of Nottingham.
153. Post crucem, lucem: "After the cross, light" (TN).
154. Under the disguised name of Misacmos, which he assumed in the
Metamorphosis of Ajax.
155. Eke: Also (TN)
156. Clown: A peasant (TN)
157. Es primus et non vi: "You are first, and not by force" (TN)
158. The Editor is indebted to Mr. Professor Dalzell for permitting
this transcript to be made, and to Dr. Leyden for making it.
159. My Lord: Probably the second son of Thomas Duke of Norfolk, who
was created Earl of Suffolk, July 21, 1603; succeeded Salisbury in
the office of Lord High Treasurer, and died May 28, 1626. See
Lodge's Illustr. iii. 386.
160. Sir Robert Cary: Son to Lord Hunsdon. His own account of this
acceptable service, for which he was immediately made a gentleman of
the bed-chamber to King James, is inserted in Vol. II. of Queen
Elizabeth's Progresses.
161. Sequar—sed passibus aequis: "To follow—but with measured steps"
Adapted from Virgil, Aeneid, Bk. 2 l. 725
162. Dr. John Still, Bishop of Bath and Wells.
163. Sir George Carew, afterward ambassador to the court of France.
164. Transcribed from the Talbot papers in the Heralds' college,
(vol. M. fol. 285, by the kind and liberal indulgence of Edm. Lodge,
Esq. pursuivant at arms; whose MS. notices of those papers furnished
an intelligent clue to their contents.
165. In a former letter from Sir John to the same correspondent, (ut
sup. fol. 2000) he speaks of his "imprisonment, sickness, and other
crosses," as inducements for parting with his "domains of Lenton."
166. The Danish King: Christian IV, who visited England July 17,
1606, and departed Aug. 11. Stowe's Annales. Sir Edward Peyton makes
a very sottish report of King Christian, and says that King James
got so drunk with him at Theobald's, he was obliged to be carried to
bed. Hist. of the Stuarts. Howell likewise describes an
entertainment given by the same Danish monarch, in 1632, at
Rhensburgh, where the King, after giving thirty-five toasts, was
carried away in his chair; and most of the officers of the court
were so drunk, that they could not rise till late the next day.
Sect. vi. Letter 2.
167. This does not appear from the Progresses and Processions of
Queen Elizabeth, hitherto collected by the diligent re-searches of
Mr. Nichols.
168. The Lord of the mansion: The Earl of Salisbury.
169. O rus, quando te aspiciam?: "O my country, when shall I see you
again?" Horace, Satires, Bk. II, Sat. VI, l. 60. (TN)
170. Uniting the Kingdoms:  This could not well allude to the union
of Scotland with England, as Mr. Chalmers has pointed out a royal
proclamation, dated May 13, 1603, declaring the two realms as
presently united, and as one kingdom. Supp. Apol. p. 417. The same
writer, in the same work, has remarked this letter to be extremely
interesting, and well worthy of perusal.
171. Mr. Ritson, with a lamentable perversion of industry, has
collected the peculiar oaths of our ancient monarchs, in his notes
on English metrical romances, and affirms that Queen Elizabeth had
this asseveration in her mouth as frequently as a fish-woman.
172. The Lord Deputy: Essex.
173. The Lord Treasurer: Burleigh.
174. Sir Francis Walsingham, principal Secretary of State.
175. Sir Christopher Hatton: Vice Chamberlain, and afterwards Lord
Chancellor. He died Sept. 20, 1591, according to Lord Burleigh's
Diary.
176. Sir Robert: Arundel.
177. Truly has Dr. Birch remarked, that with qualifications which
would have adorned the greatest of men, Queen Elizabeth had one of
the lowest weaknesses of a woman, an unconquerable spirit of
fantastic coquetry; which continued with her to the last. View of
negotiations, &c, 1749.
178. Nemo nascitur sine —: "No-one is born without —" The missing
word is vitiis "faults"; Horace, Satires, Bk. 1.3. l. 68 (TN)
179. Laudator temporis acti: "A praiser of times past"; Horace, Ars
Poetica l. 173. (TN)
180. Henry, Prince of Wales,(1594-1612) was the eldest son of King
James. (TN)
181. Alluding to the Brief View, &c. which is included in this
edition as "A Supplement or Addition to Godwin's Catalogue of
Bishops."
182. This poetry is printed in the life of Bishop Gardiner. A
specimen of the first stanzas, strongly expressive of the different
lights in which Gardiner was viewed by different parties, was
inserted in Andrews's Continuation of Dr. Henry's History, vol. i.
p. 441. "When Gardiner first recommended persecution," adds the
historian, "he thought that a few striking examples would cause a
general recantation; but when he found his error, he left the weight
of cruelty on the willing shoulders of Bonner, who was wont to say—
"Let me once lay hold of these heretics, and if they escape me, God
do so and more, to Bonner!"
183. "In that very curious repository, the Nugae Antiquae, says
Lord. Orford, "are three letters, which exhibit more faithful
portraits of Queen Elizabeth, and James I. than are to be found in
our most voluminous historians." These are specified to be the
letters from Sir John Harington to Sir Amias Pawlett and Mr. Robert
Markham, with Lord Thomas Howard's letter to Sir John. Addenda to
Royal and Noble Authors, p. 526.
	Qu. whether this Amias Pawlett be the same, who, when he saw
too much haste in any matter, was wont to say—'Stay a while, that we
may make an end the sooner.' See Apothegms in Herbert's Remains,
1652.
183. Churchill's character of this regal pedant, may here be
appositely cited—
"Vain of the scholar, he forgot the prince;—
And, having with some trifles stored his brain,
Ne'er learned, or wished to learn, the arts to reign.
Enough he knew to make him vain and proud,
Mocked by the wise, the wonder of the crowd:
When he should act he idly chose to prate,
And pamphlets wrote, when he should save the state."
Gotham, Book 2.
184. The Queen his mother: Mary Queen of Scots. (TN)
185. Davison: The unfortunate Secretary of State, as he is described
by Bishop Percy, who suffered so much from the affair of Mary Queen
of Scots. Reliques. Vol. I. p. 332.
186. Sight: Second-sight must be here implied.
187. The Charterhouse School: A brief statement of the origin &c. of
this respectable seminary, was given in a tract, entitled Sutton's
Hospital, 1646. A more complete historical account was published by
Dr. Bearcroft, in 1737, where the letter of Mr. Sutton to the Lord
Chancellor Ellesmere, precedes this vindication offered by Sir John
Harington. Mr. Sutton charges Sir John with having been often
tampering with him to make the Duke of York his heir, that he might
procure the honour of a barony; which he had always treated with
honest indignation, from harbouring no proud desire of any such
matter. Dr. Bearcroft adds, that his letter had its desired effect,
and Mr. Sutton was permitted to remain a private gentleman, and to
dispose of his property as he pleased. Ob. December 12, 1611, Aet.
79. [Ob.: "Died." Aet  "Aged."[TN]
In Malcolm's Londinium Redivivum, vol. i. are several letters from
Sir J. Harington to Mr. Sutton, respecting this transaction, which
cast a shade of duplicity, if not of dishonesty, over the moral
character of our literary knight. Mr. Malcolm, from some casual
inadvertency, has attributed those letters to the amiable Lord
Harington of Exton; but they must have proceeded from the pen of his
cousin of Kelston.
188. Bruit: i.e. rumour, report. Hence Churchill, in The Times,
"Let it be bruited all about the town,"&c.
189. The suit: This appears to have been an application for the
regal license, in order to obtain a bill of mortmain.* See Londinium
Redivivum. p. 400.
[*Bill of mortmain: Permission to transfer the ownership of property
to the Church or a charitable institution. The effect of such a
transfer was that the property would never be liable for the
equivalent of inheritance tax, which was a major source of official
revenue, and therefore permission was needed. [TN]
190. Mr. Billet: Secretary and executor to Lord Burleigh. Sir John,
in a letter dated September 5, 1608, styles him "Saint Billet;" and
exhorts Mr. Sutton to charitable liberality, in a similar strain of
rhetoric with what he has here employed.—"You rich men should open
your barns, give, lend, distribute to the poor, and lay up threfold
in heaven: faith is good, hope is good, but charity is the chiefer,
major harum caritas."* Londinium Redivivum, p. 399.
[*Major harum caritas: "The greatest of these is charity" 1 Cor.
13:13 [TN]
191. I pede fausto: "Go with a lucky foot" (TN)
192. Alexander's horse: Bucephalus, Alexander the Great's horse.
193. Jubes renovare dolorem: "You command me to recall my grief"
Virgil, Aeneid, Bk. 2. l. 3 (TN)
194. Argus: Odyssey, Lib. xvii. (TN)
195. That dog whose name doth not appear: Tob. chap. v. and xi. (TN)
196. The verses:
Because a witty writer of this time,
Doth make some mention in a pleasant rhyme,
Of Lepidus and of his famous dog,
Thou Momus, that dost love to scoff and cog,
Prat'st amongst base companions and givest out,
That unto me herein, is meant aflout.
Hate makes thee blind, Momus, I dare be sworn,
He meant to me his love, to thee his scorn,
Put on thy envious spectacles and see,
Whom doth he scorn therein, the dog or me:
The Dog is grac't, compared with great Banks,
Both beasts right famous, for their pretty pranks,
Although in this, I grant, the dog was worse,
He only fed my pleasure, not my purse:
Yet that same Dog, I may say this and boast it,
He found my purse with gold when I have lost it.
Now for myself, some fools like thee may judge,
That at the name of Lepidus I grudge,
No sure: so far I think it from disgrace,
I wished it clear to me and to my race:
Lepus or Lepos, I in both have part,
That in my name I bear, this in mine heart.
But, Momus, I persuade myself that no man,
Will deign thee such a name, English or Roman,
I'll wage a butt of Sack, the best in Bristo,
Who calls me Lepid, I will call him Tristo.
Harington's Epigrams, Lib. iii. Epig. 21
See also the engraved title-page to his Ariosto, and notes on Book
xli.
197. Limned: Painted (TN)
198. This poet was Sir John himself. Vid. Epigrams, lib. iv. ep. 5.
199. A MS. note in the Museum copy of Sir John Hawkins's History of
Music, says; "this assertion can never be assented to as a fact; for
the whole of the song is to be found in the Legend of Jane Shore, by
Tho. Churchyard, and forms the fifteenth [read thirteenth] stanza of
that poem." Qu. however; whether the old court-poet might not have
wrought King Henry's 'special verse' into his own metrical tissue,
as Sir John ascribes it on such good authority, to the royal author.
In Churchyard's legend it appears, with the following additional
line after "retire:",
"Who can withstand a puissant King's desire?"
Edit. 1575
200. Not printed in the editions of Dr. Chetwind and Mr. Harington;
though subjoined as a postscript to the MS. copy of this production
in the British Museum, marked Bibl. Reg. 17 B. xxii. It is here
brought forward as a preface, in lieu of Dr. Chetwind's dedicatory
epistle, on the recommendation of Mr. Malone.
201. Lewd: i.e. ignorant, unlearned.
202. Bruit: i.e. report.
203. Lightly: commonly:—as in Shakespeare's K. Richard III.
"Short summers lightly have a forward spring."
204. Roving: A term in archery for shooting unequal lengths.
205. The following passage appears to be here alluded to, in this
ancient alliterative satire.
"Then shall come a King and confess you religious,
And beat you, as the bible telleth, for breaking of your rule,
And amend monials,* monks, and canons,
And put them to their penance; ad pristinum statum ire."**
Passus X. fol. 50, edit 1550.
[*Monials: Nuns. **Ad pristinum statum ire: "To go to the original
pure state" [TN]
206. Roger Manhood: Probably Sir Roger Manwood, Lord Chief Baron of
the Exchequer.
207. Sir Ed. Hobby: One of the gentlemen of the privy-chamber to K.
James, a patron of the learned Camden, and a person, says Wood, much
noted for his eminent endowments of mind and body.
208. The story of Cambyses, as told by Herodotus and dramatized by
Tho. Preston, is marked by the following catastrophe. "As he in
saddle would have leapt, his sword from sheath did go, Goring him up
into the side:—his life was ended so."
209. Omnes qui sunt male agentes, &c.: "All who are wrongdoers,
always run to the powerful. Long live the King; let the law take its
course." (TN)
210. Sir Thomas Chaloner: Tutor and afterwards Chamberlain to Prince
Henry.
211. Senes ut in otia, &c: " So as to retire in idleness when they
are old." Horace, Satires, Bk. I Sat. 1. l. 31. (TN)
212. Mr. Newton, Dean of Durham: Afterwards made a Baronet. Vide
Athen. Oxon. I. 420.
213. A Catalogue of the Bishops of England, since the first planting
of Christian religion in this island, together with a brief history
of their lives and memorable actions, so near as can be gathered out
of antiquity. By F. G. Sub-dean of Exeter, 1601. 4to.
214. Quorum pars una fui: "Of which I did my part" (TN)
215. Fond: i.e. weak, foolish. (TN)
216. Augurium: Indication of a future event. (TN)
217. Matthew Parker was made Abp. of C. in 1559. Ob. 1575. Aet. 72.
The industrious biographer, John Strype, published a circumstantial
memoir of him in 1711. Granger says, it should be remembered to his
honour that he was the founder of the Society of Antiquaries in
England. He published the Bishops' Bible; and translated the whole
Psalter into English metre. This work was printed in quarto by John
Day, and is pointed out by Warton as a book of uncommon rarity. The
copies are thought to have been presented to several of the nobility
by the wife of the Archbishop, Margaret Parker, of whom Fuller has
given a high character in his Church-history.
218. This author: Bishop Godwin.
219. This happened in the second Year of Q. Mary's reign, if we are
to credit Historiola, a litle Story of the Acts and Life of Mathew,
Archbishop of Canterb. dated 1574, a very scarce tract of a
libellous tendency, in the possession of my friend Mr. Todd.
220. Ceteris paribus: "Other things being equal"; imparibus:
"unequal" (TN)
221. Dr Grindal: Made Abp. of C. 1573. Died in 1583. Aet. 63. This
learned reformer was, in the reign of Mary, one of the exiles for
religion in Germany, but returning to England on the accession of
Elizabeth, he was appointed one of the public disputants against
popery. The Algrind of Spenser is said to be the name of Grindal
anagrammatized. See Upton's Preface to the Faery Queen.
222. Some great Lord: Lord Leicester.
223. Non licet habere eam: "It is not lawful to have her." Matt.
14:4. (TN)
224. Eveniet &c.: "for thou shalt refuse to honour the god, and
shalt complain that in my blindness I have seen all too well." Ovid,
Metamorphoses Bk. III l 524-5. (TN)
225. Two wives: Lady Sheffield, and Lady Essex.
226. Dr. Whitegift: Ld. President of Ludlow Castle; made Abp. of C.
1585, and died in 1603, aged 72. There is a printed epitaph upon him
in the Museum, which consists chiefly of acrostics on his name and
titles. Some of his original letters occur in the cathedral library,
Canterbury.
227. Mr. Cartwright: A Puritan divine, of considerable eminence,
whose life has been given in the new edition of Biog. Britannica,
Vol. iii.
228. Tawny coats would seem to have been the livery given by
bishops. Hence, in Shakspeare's Henry the Sixth, Part I, Winchester
enters, attended by a train of servants in tawny coats.
229. Bonum certamen certavi, &c.: "I have fought the good fight, I
have stayed the course." 2 Timothy 4:7 (TN)
230. Candida dona &c: "White gifts are for you both name and symbol,
Whitegift; No-one can give you a whiter gift than a white robe; for
the services you have rendered your name will be written on a white
stone." (TN)
231. Richard Bancroft: Bp. of London, 1597. Abp. of C. 1604. Ob.
1610. Aet. 67.
232. Voce populi: "By popular acclaim" (TN)
233. Genevising and scotising: advancing the doctrines of Geneva and
Scotland, that is, Calvinism. (TN)
234. Qui in concionibus dominatur: "Who dominated in the assembly."
(TN)
235. Your Highness: Prince Henry, to whom this work was addressed.
236. Lord Cromwell: Henry Cromwell, great-grandson of Thomas
Cromwell, chief minister of Henry VIII. (TN)
237. Est aliquid, &c: "That is something, to be singled out by
Diomede from so many thousand Greeks" Ovid, Metamorphoses Bk. XIII
l. 241-2. (TN)
238. Novelists: People who propose new things. (TN)
239. For an account of Hacket's impieties and tumultuary
proceedings, see Weever's Discourse of Funeral Monuments, and
Parsons's third part of A Treatise of three Conversions of England,
1603. His fellows: Arthington, Coppinger, &c.
240. Sir John Popham, according to Camden, was Lord Chief Justice of
the King's Bench, but according to Dugdale, of the Common Pleas. Ob.
1607.
241. Watson was a secular priest, and published a quarto volume,
entitled "A Decacordon of ten Quodlibetical Questions, concerning
Religion and State; wherein the authour, framing himself a Quilibet
to every Quodlibet, decides an hundred cross interrogatory Doubts,
about the general Contentions betwixt the seminary Priests and
Jesuits," 1600.
Watson affirms that the Pope's excommunication exposed Q. Elizabeth
to be warrantably destroyed, and that there were many endeavours
used by the jesuited papist (Parsons) first to excommunicate, and
then to shorten the life of K. James. But, as honest Isaac Walton
observes, Watson was an angry adversary, and his affirmations are to
be received with caution. Life of Sir. H. Wotton, in Reliq.
Wottonianae.
Among the MSS. of the royal library in the British Museum, is "a
petition discoursory" from Henoch Clapham to Henry Pr. of Wales,
whence it appears that the petitioner had been imprisoned on a
warrant from the Bp. of London, for certain allegations of improper
conduct as a minister during the plague, but really, as he asserts,
on account of a dislike which the bishop had taken, because Clapham 
had preached against the "Watsonicall policy of a Quodlibeticall
Saint, who, for his treason since, came to be canonized at the
gallows."
242. Impar congressus: "An unequal conflict" (TN)
243. Ne quid Ecclesia detrimenti capiat. "To see that the Church
suffers no harm" (TN)
244. Bishop Elmer: or Aylmer. Made Bp. of L. in 1576. Ob. 1594. Aet.
73.
245. Mitissima sors, &c.: "The kingdom's lot is mildest under a new
king." Lucan, The Egyptian Civil War, Bk. VIII. l. 534-5. (TN)
246. quoad sciam, poteroque: "As much as I know and can say." (TN)
247. Tippet: A kind of scarf worn by the proctors, or their
deputies; who are described by Mr. Maurice, in his Oxonian, as
— "a tribe of sages
Dreadful with tippet, source of dire dismay
To Freshmen, and the whole unbearded race."
Poems, Epistolary, Lyric, and Elegiacal.
248. [Quondam: former; semper: always.[TN] Sir John Harington has
versified these quaint retorts, in his "most elegant and witty
epigrams," printed in 1615, 1618, 1625, and 1634:
[Fat Bonner (late that bishop was of London)
Was bid by one, Good morrow Bishop quondam:
He with the scoff, no whit put out of temper,
Replied incontinent, Adieu knave Semper. 
Another in such kind of scoffing speeches, 
Would beg his tippet, needs to line his breeches.
Not so (quoth he) but it may be thy hap,
To have a foolish head to line thy cap.[TN]
249. Cum essem parvulus, &c.: "When I was a child, I spoke as a
child, I thought as a child." 1 Cor. 13:11. (TN)
250. Martin Marprelate: the pseudonymous author of several works
attacking the bishops of the Church of England, published in 1588-89
until their printer was discovered and executed. (TN)
251. Rub, rub, rub: This appears to have been a cant phrase of the
bowling-green. Freeman, in 1614, entitled the second part of his
collection of epigrams, "Rub, and a great cast, the second bowl."
252. Eel-mar: i.e. Ely-mar.
253. Malum ab Aquilone: "Evil from the North" The prophet Jeremiah
has several references to this but none in these exact words. (TN)
254. Cole-prophets: False, lying prophets. See Tyrwhitt's Chaucer
III. 292. Conjuring witches and coleprophets are coupled together,
in the Acts and Life of Abp. Parker.
255. In exaltatio Lunae Leo jungetur Leonae: "Leo will be confounded
during the exaltation of Leo and the Moon." Exaltation is an
astrological term meaning the part of a planet's orbit when it is
most influential. This prophecy would refer to Pope Leo XI who
reigned for less than a month in 1605. (TN)
256. Deus nobiscum, quis contra nos?: "God is with us, who is
against us?" (TN)
257. Adam Squire: Master of Baliol College, Oxford, and Archdeacon
of Middlesex.
258. Meretrix: Quasi, merry-tricks. [Meretrix is Latin for
prostitute [TN]
259. Waster: a wooden sword used for fencing practice. (TN)
260. Per disciplinam et verbera: "By teaching and whipping." (TN)
261. Richard Fletcher: Made Bp. of London in 1594. Ob. 1596-7. He
was father to John, and uncle to Phineas and Giles Fletcher, the
well-known dramatic and allegorical poets.
262. Deiotarus was King of Galatia, and having been accused of
attempts upon Caesar's life, was ably defended by Cicero in the
Roman senate.
263. In commendam: a bishopric held in commendam is one which does
not have a bishop of its own but is held by another person, usually
the bishop or dean of another diocese. This person receives the
revenues of the diocese, so there is opportunity for corruption.
(TN)
264. Naman the Syrian: See 2 Kings ch. 5 (TN)
265. Non erat &c. "It was not the fault of men but of the times."
(TN)
266. These lines occur in the Epigrams of Sir John Harington, Lib.
iii. Num. 25, according to the printed editions, from which the MS.
copy given to Prince Henry must have differed, at least in
arrangement.
267. Rerum tutela mearum, &c.: "you are the caretaker of my affairs
and get angry over a crookedly cut nail." Horace, Epistles, Bk. I.
letter 1. l.103-4. (TN)
268. Bolts: Arrows.
269. Dr. Bancroft succeeded Fletcher in 1597, and continued Bp. of
London till 1604, when he was translated to Canterbury. See above.
270. Richard Vaughan: Successively Bp. of Bangor, Chester, and
London: to the latter dignity he succeeded in 1604, and died in
1607.
271. My Lord of Canterbury: Dr. Bancroft.
272. Sir John Puckering, after having filled the situations of
Queen's Sergeant, and Speaker in the House of Commons, was raised to
the office of Lord Keeper in 1592, upon the death of Ld. Chancellor
Hatton. He died in 1596.
273. Corpus quod corrumpitur &c.: "The afflicted body weighs down
the soul." (TN)
274. Thomas Ravis: Made Bp. of London in 1607. Ob. 1609.
275: Magistratus indicabit virum: "The office will show the man."
(TN)
276. Willelmus dictus Wickham, &c.: Here lies William Wickham,
defeated by death; pray continually for him whose tomb you see."
(TN)
277. Christopher Johnson, M. D. an eminent Latin poet, and chief
master of Winchester school. He died in 1597.
278. This passage from Sidney's Apology for Poetry, 1595, is rather
inaccurately quoted, Sir Philip said—"Thus much curse I must send
you, [the Momus of poetry] in the behalf of all poets, that while
you live, you live in love, and never get favour, for lacking skill
of a sonnet; and when you die, your memory die from the earth, for
want of an epitaph."
279. Bell-tower: this rendering is provisional. Nolari is not a
Latin word, and may refer to a location in Winchester, but I can
identify no such place. Alternatively it may be formed from nola,
meaning a 'bell', hence my translation. (QH)
280. Stephen Gardiner: Made Bp. of W. in 1531; deprived, 1550;
restored, and made Ld. Chancellor, 1553. Ob. 1555. Aet. 72. He was a
great and not unpatriotic statesman, says that amusing historian Mr.
Andrews, but perverse and pitiless. Stalbrydge calls him 'a
shameless gentleman,' in his Epistle exhortatory, against pompous
Popish Bishops, 1544, written, and most probably printed, at Basel,
in Switzerland; for its acrimonious personalities must have
subjected an English printer to a Star-chamber inquisition, and have
added another article to this compend of martyrology.
281. Tantum scimus quantum meminimus: "We only know as much as we
can remember." (TN)
282. Gardiner's books: Particularly in An explication and assertion
of the true catholic faith, touching the moost blessed sacrament of
the altar, with confutation of a book written against the same. Anno
1551.
283. Cedere nescius: "Determined never to yield" (TN)
284. Cranmer and Ridley suffered at Oxford, in 1555.
285. Bonner appears to have been deservedly held in greater dread
and detestation than Gardiner, by whom he was occasionally employed
as the agent of bigoted barbarity. In the tract by Stalbrydge,
before cited, he is charged with having menaced a jury of citizens
at Guildhall, in 1541, for acquitting a poor innocent lad, named
Richard Mekyns; and, refusing to admit their verdict, chose out
another false quest to suit his purpose, nor ceased till he had
brought the victim to Smithfield, and offered him up as a sacrifice
to Mulciber. His brutal exultation over the degraded, and meekly-
suffering Crammer, must have been regarded with utter abhorrence.
We cannot wonder, therefore, when it could be done with impunity,
that invective should have exhausted itself in vilifying this
"firebrand of the realm;" and accordingly we find that an epitaph
and a dirge were published after his death, which teemed with every
expression of virulent abuse. See Harleian Miscellany and Ames apud
John Allde. Preston, in his Lamentable tragedy of King Cambyses,
compares the Persian tyrant to the English prelate, and says,
"He was a kin to bishop Bonner, I think verily:
For both their delights was to shed blood,
But never intended to do any good."
Sc. ult.
286. Cheer: Face (TN)
287. The same punning use of Gardiner's name was made by Willm.
Gamage, a linsey-woolsey poet, who published, among Two Centuries of
Epigrams, in 1621, the following tolerable verses.
On Stephen the bloody persecutor.
Good gardeners do use for to supplant
Their bad grown weeds, their fruitful herbs to save;
But Gardiner thou, the flower of Troynovant
Didst think to weed, and bury in her grave:
To heaven's reapers far unlike wast thou,
To weed the wheat, and let the ever grow.
The "flower of Troynovant*" was Q. Elizabeth, whom Gardiner is said
to have advised her sister to destroy, lest she should revive
Protestantism.
[*Troynovant: According to Geoffrey of Monmouth, an old name for
London, meaning "New Troy", referring to the legend that Britain was
first settled by Brutus, great-grandson of the Trojan Aeneas, the
founder of Rome.[TN]
288. Scribit in marmore laesus: "The injured man writes in stone"
(TN)
289. Falsus honor juvat, &c.: "Whom does false honour aid and
calumny deter, but the vicious and the liar?" Horace, Satires, Bk. 1
Sat. 16 l. 39-40. (TN)
290. John Whyte: Made Bp. of Winchester in 1556. Ob. 1560.
291. Upon some of these rises, says Wood, Dr. Chr. Johnson, one of
his successors in the mastership of Winchester school, made this
distich.
Me puero custos, ludi paulo ante Magister
Vitus, et hac demum praesul in urbe fuit.
Ath. Oxon. I. 131.
292. Black sermon: This appears to contain a twofold allusion; viz.
to the name of White, and to the funeral sermon: such sermons being
frequently decorated with black borders, and sometimes rendered more
sombre by black leaves. Wood describes a MS. copy of this sermon to
have been in the library of Richard Smith, secondary of the Poultry
Compter; whose catalogue of persons deceased from 1628 to 1675 is
among the Sloan MSS. in the Museum.
293. Laudavi mortuos, &c.: "I have praised the dead rather than the
living: and I judged him that is not yet born happier than them
both."
294. Melior est, &c.: "A live dog is better than a dead lion" (TN)
295. Maria optimam partem elegit: "Mary has chosen the better part"
Luke 10:42. (TN)
296. Dr. Cooper: Made Bp. of W. in 1584. Ob. 1595.
297. Rob. Horne and Tho. Watson preceded Bp. Cooper in the see of
Winchester.
298. In diebus illis: "In these days" (TN)
299. The dictionary: Thesaurus Lingua Romanae et Britannicae, and
Dictionarium Historicum et Poeticum, 1565, fol. It was an enlarged
edition of Bibliotheca Eliotae, printed in 1541. A volume of MSS.
marked C. ii. in the Church library, Canterbury, contains some
original letters by Bp. Cooper.
300. melius est enimt nubere quam uri: "It is better to marry than
to burn" 1 Cor. 7:9 (TN)
301. Quid si mihi veniat, &c: "What if it be my lot to have a wife
both shameless and extravagant"? "Bear it (or shrews)" "Better death
than such a life." "Life (or shun)". See the text for an explanation
of the Latin pun in this quotation from The Echo in Erasmus'
Colloquies. (TN)
302. Tobias drove away the demon Asmodeus by burning the guts of a
fish. Tob. 8:1-4. (TN)
303. Dic Ecclesiae: "Tell it to the congregation." (TN)
304. The libel of Martin Marprelate is attributed, by Collier, to a
junto of four persons, whose names were Penry, Throgmorton, Udal,
and Fernier. Eccles. Hist. vol. II.
For an account of this polemic brawl, and of the numerous satirical
tracts to which it gave birth, see Wood's Athenae, under the article
Penry; and Herbert's edition of Ames's Typographical Antiquities, p.
1683, et seq.[See here for the text. See also Note 250 above [TN]
305. The bishop confuted Martin: In An Admonition to the people of
England, 1589.
306. Work for the Cooper: This tract was intended to ridicule Bp.
Cooper's serious confutation, and had the following sneering title,
which will suificiently display the manner in which this
unprofitable controversy with carried on.
"Hay any Work for Cooper: or a brief epistle directed by way of an
hublication to the reverend Bishops, counselling them, if they will
needs be barrelled up, for fear of smelling in the nostrils of her
Majesty and the state, that they would use the advice of reverend
Martin, for the providing of their Cooper, &c. wherein worthy Martin
quits himself like a man, I warrant you, in the modest defence of
his self and his learned epistles, and makes the Cooper's hoops to
fly off, and the bishops' tubs to leak out of all cry."
307. William Wickham: Afterward Canon of Windsor, and Bishop of
Lincoln; whence he was translated to Winchester in 1595, and died in
the same year. You may see his epitaph, says Wood, in Stow's Survey
of London, and more of him in Antimartinus, sive monitio cuiusdam
Londinensis.
308. William Day: Made Bp. of Winchester in 1596.
309. Nodosi: Full of knots. (TN)
310. Admired/Half-mired: A contemptible pun, even for the time in
which it was made.
311. No night can oppress them that die in the Lord: Rev. 24:13
312. Thomas Bilson: Made Bp. of Winchester in 1591. Ob. 1616.
313. Ultimus hic ego sum, &c.: "I am the latest of these: but I will
not say whether as good or as bad; there will be another to
judge."(TN)
314. Harington says, in his Metamorphosis of Ajax, the schoolmaster
[perhaps Alex. Hume] wrote a book with this title,—That Christ
descended not into hell: the very sight of which title being flat
contradictory to an article of the Creed. I remember I said of the
man, as Heywood with in his Proverbs, that hereafter
"He might be of my pater noster indeed,
But sure he should never come into my creed."
315. Hugh Broughton maintained the same doctrine with Hume, and Wood
hints at another partisan, whose name he could not recollect; Ath.
Oxon. I. 465. Sir Edward Peyton, in his virulent history of the
Stuarts, says that Bp. Bilson held an opinion disavowed by all
orthodox divines, and styles him Sir Nullity Bilson, for having
devised a nullity in the marriage contract between Lord and Lady
Essex, to palliate the adultery of Somerset.
316. Petard: A kind of bomb used for blowing open a door. (TN)
317. Basilisk: A very large cannon. (TN)
318. Hades, as Broughton defined it, "is the place general where
souls are before God's throne, divided there, far enough, by heaven
and hell: so that in speech of the holy, hades, by difference of the
person, is heaven, and in the wicked hell; which place is on high,
out of this world." Address to the reader before Two Little Works
Defensive, 1604.
319. Powder-treason: i.e the Gunpowder Plot, 1605 (TN)
320. Lancepezados: Lance-corporals (TN)
321. In corde terrae: "In the heart of the Earth." (TN)
322. Doctor Martin Heaton: Made Bp. of Ely in 1599. Ob. 1609. s 323.
Bp. Cox died in July 1581.
323. Bp. Cox died in July 1581.
324. Powdered: preserved with salt.
325. Walter Haddon, Pres. of Magd. Coll. Oxon. and LL. D. at
Cambridge, was much esteemed for his eloquence and learning, and
wrote orations, epistles, and poems in Latin, which procured him
distinguished reputation. Ob. 1571.
326. Cœpisti melius quam desinis: "You began better than you ended."
(TN)
327. Potentes cum rogant jubent: "The powerful, when they ask,
command" (TN)
328. Not Quid dabis, &c.: "Not 'You will give this or that', but 'I
will take it.'" (TN)
329. T. Fuller cites this passage "as one saith, but only one saith
it;" and adds, "indeed I find another author [Strype] charging Bp.
Cox therewith, but with this parenthesis ('tis said) and my charity
would fain believe Fame a false report therein, finding him,
otherwise, a deserving person, very well qualified, &c." Church
Hist. Book VII. P. 392.
330. His Christian name: Martin.
331. Sapientis est, &c.: "It is wise to regard nothing beneath you
except wrongdoing." (TN)
332. Made Bp. of L. in 1594. Ob. 1608. To Dr. C. When Bishop of
Chester. Peck has printed some commendatory letters from Ld.
Burleigh, in Desid. Curiosa, Vol. I. lib. 3.
333. The Merchant Royal, a sermon preached at Whitehall, by Robert
Wilkinson, before James I. at the nuptials of Lord Hay and his Lady
Honoria, upon the 6th of Jan. 1607, was twice printed; in 1607 and
1615. The edifying part of this discourse appears to consist in the
comparison of a married woman to a merchant's ship, from whence the
preacher takes occasion to recommend that the rigging of the female
be in no respect superfluous, &c. To Mr. Bindley's storehouse of
literary rarities, the editor has been indebted for a sight of this
singular publication.
334. Yex: A hiccup. Henry, fourth Earl of Derby, who died is 1592,
seems to be the person meant.
335. Ferdinando, fifth Earl of Derby, died in 1594, not of an axe,
but of poison. See Collins's Peerage, vol. iii. p. 64.
336. This quatrain is by the Hungarian poet and diplomat Janus
Pannonius, (1434-1472) and refers to Pope Paul II.(TN)
337. William Overton: Made Bp. of Lichfield and Coventry, 1578. Ob.
1608.
338. His days, &c.: Deut. 5:16
339. Vox populi, vox Dei est: "The voice of the people is the voice
of God." (TN)
340. Ordinale secundum usum Sarum: The "Use of Sarum," also known as
the "Sarum Rite" is the Latin rite of the Mass developed at
Salisbury Cathedral and used throughout England from the late
eleventh century until the English Reformation. (TN)
341. A subsidy: About £100,000.
342. John Jewell: Made Bp. of Salisbury in 1559. Ob. 1571. Aet. 50.
A life of Bishop Jewell, with a long defence of his doctrine, was
published by Dr. Laurence Humfrey, in 1573; to which were annexed,
Carmina et Epitaphia, by Wilson, Wolley, Nowell, Bodley, Norton,
Rainolds, Buchanan, and other eminent persons of that period.
343. Qui potest capere, capiat: He who can take it,[i.e. chastity]
let him take it" Matt. 19:12 (TN)
344. His name: A pun: Wivill - wive ill.
345. Ex animo: "From the soul." (TN)
346. Dr. Humfrey: Dean of Winchester. Ob. 1589; Aet. 63.
347. Dr. Coldwell: Dean of Rochester. Made Bp. of Salisbury in 1591.
Ob. 1596. The see of Salisbury had been filled by Dr. Edmund Guest,
from 1571 to 1578; by Dr. John Piers, from 1578 to 1588; and
remained three years vacant.
348. Schola Salerni: This alludes to The Englishmans Doctor, or the
School of Salerne; or physical observations for the perfect
preserving of the Body of Man in continual health: a small poetical
piece, extracted from Schola Salernitana, and twice printed, in 1609
and 1624, though now of rare occurrence. Mr. Findley possesses the
original MS. by Sir John Harington.
349. The knight: Sir Walter Raleigh. In the Burleigh State Papers,
published by Murdin, a severe complaint is made by Bp. Coldwell
against the conduct of Raleigh, in a letter to Mr. Henry Brooke.
April, 1594.
350. Spolia opima: "Richest spoils" (TN)
351. Si mens non laeva fuisset: "If his mind had not been clouded."
Virgil, Aeneid Bk. II l. 54. (TN)
352. Shakspeare notices this fatal prognostic in his tragedy of. K.
Richard III. See also More, Holinshed, and the old scholiast on
Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar.
353. His brother Adrian: Adrian Gilbert, his (Walter Raleigh's)
uterine brother.
354. habendum et tenendum: "to have and to hold" Gaudendum: "to
rejoice" (TN)
355. Hydromancy: the art of divination by water.
356. Doctor Henry Cotton: Prebend of Winchester, succeeded in 1598.
Ob. 1614.
357. The Pappian law, or jus trium liberorum, spoken of by Pliny and
others, not only entitled a Roman citizen to precedence in holding
advantageous offices, but exempted him from those which were
troublesome and unprofitable.
358. Doctor Gourden: Made Dean of Salisbury in 1604. Ob. 1619. He
was celebrated as a Greek, Hebrew and oriental scholar.
359. Seminary-priests were trained up in Popish countries, to
propagate their doctrines among Protestants.
360. "Our author's account of the Church of Bath," said the former
edition of this publication, "is the fullest and most particular
history extant. From living in the neighbourhood, he was diligently
attentive to procure every authentic circumstance that could
possibly be obtained; and to him, probably, is owing the greater
part of that information which might otherwise have sunk in
oblivion."
361. Doctor Oliver King: Translated from Exeter to Bath and Wells in
1495.
362. John de Villula: Made bp. Of Wells in the year 1088, which see
he translated to Bath in 1091, where he died Dec. 29, 1122. See Le
Neve's Fasti Eccl. Angl. p. 31.
363. Hospes eras mundo, &c.: "You were the guest of the world,
always going around the world, so that the day of your death was the
first day you were still." (TN)
364. As Paulus Jovius writes: In Vita Hadriani sexti. De vit. Leo.
dec. pont. max. Flor. 1551, p. 89.
365. Prince Arthur, eldest son of Henry the Seventh, married the
Infanta Catherine, Nov. 14, 1501, and died April 2, 1502.
366. The supposition of Wolsey's having poisoned himself would seem
to have arisen from an interpolation in the printed copy of
Cavendish's Life of the Cardinal. No mention is made of such a
circumstance in Harl. MS. 428, which contains an entire Discourse of
the Cardinal's Life and Death.
367. Desit in hac mihi parte fides, &c.: "Do not believe this part
of my story, but, if you believe it, believe also the punishment."
Ovid, Metamorphoses Bk. 10 l. 303-4. (TN)
368. Non possum quin exclamem: "I cannot help crying it aloud."
369. Ex abundantia: "From the generosity." (TN)
370. Ex humilitate. "From our lowness" (TN)
371. Melius inquirendum. "For a better inquiry" (TN)
372. Quod de salute reipublicae non desperasset: "Because he did not
despair of the saving of the republic." Varro, leader of the Roman
army, was defeated heavily by Hannibal at the battle of Cannae, 216
BC, but regrouped to fight on. (TN)
373. William Barlow: Prior of Bisham: made Bishop of St. Asaph in
1535, of St. David's in 1536, of Bath and Wells in 1549, and of
Chichester in 1559. Ob. 1568. (TN)
374. The Latin Treatise: De Praesulibus Anglia commentarius, p. 387,
edit. 1743. (TN)
375. Tick-tack: A game at tables, or backgammon.
376. This was in 1598; but in 1608, all five had been made bishops.
377. Felix et Natis, &c: "Barlo was happy in his wife and children,
and was a man for whom all things were successful, if you exclude
the crime of despoiling the church. Exiled from his father’s
country, for this crime, the soil of Germany gave him sanctuary."
This is an adaptation of Metamorphoses Bk. 11 l. 266-270. Ovid's
original is:
Felix et nato, felix et coniuge Peleus,
et cui, si demas iugulati crimina Phoci,
omnia contigerant: fraterno sanguine sontem
expulsumque domo patria Trachinia tellus
accipit."
"Peleus was happy in his wife and son, and was a man for whom
all things were successful, if you exclude the crime of
killing his brother Phocus. Exiled from his father’s country,
for shedding his brother’s blood, the soil of Trachin gave him
sanctuary." (TN)
378. Aeestatis sedes, &c.: "O Somerset, you may truly believe that
the Bishop who despoiled the Church will be destroyed." (TN)
379. Aurum Tholosanum: "Tolosa gold." This was a hoard of treasure
captured by the Roman army in 106 BC. It was stolen by the Roman
commander Caepio, who was soon after defeated in a disastrous
battle. For this he was stripped of his citizenship and possessions,
and exiled from Rome. See
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gold_of_Tolosa for the full story.
(TN)
380. In sacco et cinere: "In sackcloth and ashes." (TN)
381. Gilbert Bourne: See Godwin's Catalogue, p. 311. Ob. 1569.
382. Gilbert Berkeley, made Bp. of Bath and Wells, 1559. Ob. 1581.
383. Thomas Godwin: Dean of Canterbury. Made Bp. of Bath and Wells
ins 1584. Ob. 1590.
384. Non minor est, &c.: "It is no less an achievement to keep
possession than to acquire it" (TN)
385. A chief favourite: Sir Walter Raleigh.
386. Intempestive: i. e. unseasonable.
387. Majus peccatum habet: "That makes the crime greater" (TN)
388. Mr. Bentham' remarks, in extenuation of what Willis had termed
'sacrilegious alienations'—"had these alienations been the voluntary
acts of the bishops, the censure had been justly laid: but, as the
law then stood, the Queen had it wholly in her power to make those
exchanges, and might, I conceive, have taken to herself, had she so
pleased, all the estates of all the bishoprics in England, by way of
exchange, without asking the consent of the bishops." See Hist. &c.
of the Church of Ely, p. 196; in the appendix to which work, is a
petition from Parker, Cox, and other prelates, praying Q. Eliz.
would forbear making the exchange of their manors and lands for
tenths and impropriate rectories, &c.
389. Per minas: "By compulsion." (TN)
390. Upon request: i.e. by invitation or entreaty—o precario.
391. Powdered beef: i.e. salted beef. See Lord Bacon's Nat. Hist.
Cent. IV.
392. Poor John: Coarse fish, salted and dried. Nashe, in his
Supplication of Pierce Penniless, 1592, couples it with haberdine
[Salt cod[TN].
393. Hind: A farm servant. (TN)
394. Non Hymeneus adest &c.: "Hymen is not by the bridal bed, nor
the Graces." Ovid, Metamprphoses, Bk. 6 l. 419 (TN)
395. "The memory of Bishop Godwin, says a most learned and candid
writer, will ever be respected. His own merit brought him into
public notice; and when he rose in the church, he adorned it by his
amiable qualities." Todd's Account of the Deans of Canterbury. p.
48.
396. Nemo laudat patrem nisi improbus filius: "Only a wicked son
praises his father" (TN)
397. John Still: Made Bishop of Bath and Wells in 1592. Ob. 1607.
Aet. 64.
398. Reverend tutor: Dr. Fleming.
399. Primam tonsuram: The first stage of a student for the
priesthood. (TN)
400. Venue: A technical term for a hit in fencing.
401. Laurence Humphrey, successively Dean of Gloucester and
Winchester, a great and general scholar, says Wood, an able
linguist, and a deep divine. Ath. Oxon. I. 242.
402. Double honour: Two benefices. MS.
403. Thomas Henneage: Vice-chamberlain to Q. Elizabeth, and
Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. Ob. 1595.
404. This lady may have been a daughter of Sir John Horner, of Melia
Park, near Frome, in Somersetshire, who was knighted in 1574. Harl.
MS. 983, and Cotton MS. Claud. C. III.
405. Homo frugi: "A frugal man" (TN)
406. Sir Arthur Hopton: Distinguished for mathematical learning &c.
and author of Baculum Geodeticum sive Viaticum, 1610, with Speculum
Topographicum, 1611.
407. Coff: To get something for nothing. (TN)
408. Sir Edmund Anderson, Knight, Lord Chief Justice of the Common
Pleas, who is reported by Camden to have checked some syllogistic
cavil, on the trial of Henry Cuffe, with this rebuke—"I sit here to
judge of law, and not of logic."
409. Doctor William Cotton: He was consecrated 12 Nov. 1598, says
Howes, in his abridged chronicle, and lived so long that he saw the
change of bishops throughout all England. Ob. 1621.
410. Pietro Aretino: Italian author, playwright, poet, satirist and
blackmailer (1492-1556). He was one of the most influential writers
of his time and an outspoken critic of the powerful. Unico & divino:
"Unique and divine."
411. Moreri has given this inscription in Latin:

Condit Aretini cineres lapis ipse sepultos,
Mortales atro qui sale perfricuit:
Intactus Deus est ilii, causamque rogatus
Hanc dedit, "Ille," inquit, "non mihi notus erat."
412. Pro Christo legatione fungimur: "We act as the agents of
Christ." (TN)
413. Bp. Harman, alias Veysey, died in 1555. His immediate
successors in the see of Exeter, were Miles Coverdale, James
Turvervile, William Atley, William Bradbridge, John Woolton, and
Gervase Babington.
414. Stannaries: Tin mines. (TN)
415. Bishops Parkhurst, Freke, Scambler, and Redman.
416. Sine querela: "Without complaints." (TN)
417. Henry Spencer, surnamed the warlike, attained the mitre of
Norwich in 1370.
418. John Gegon: Or Jegon, preferred from the deanery to the
bishopric of Norwich, in 1602. Ob. 1617.
419. Gervase Babington: Translated from Landaff to Exeter in 1594,
and to Worcester in 1597. Ob. 1610. Aet. 60. His works were printed
in 1615 and 1637.
420. Sir John Harington has introduced this witticism among his
Epigrams, lib. ii.
A learned prelate, late dispos'd to laugh,
Hearing me name the bishop of Landaff;
'You should,' said he, advising well hereon,
Call him Lord Aff, for all the Land is gone:
421. John Scory: First bishop of Rochester, 1551, next of
Chichester, 1552, of which he was deprived by Q. Mary, and afterward
preferred by Q. Eliz. to Hereford, 1559. Ob. 1583.
422. Angels: A quibble upon the gold coin so denominated.
423. Viis et modis: "Ways and means" (TN)
424. Scoria: Dross or slag (TN)
425. Chiliads: Thousands.
426. Dominus fac totum: One who holds absolute power; literally,
"Ruler of all things." In this case, Queen Elizabeth. (TN)
427. laetare et fac: "Rejoice and do"; bonum: "good." (TN)
428. Henry Lord Hunsdon: Lord Chamberlain to Q. Elizabeth. Ob. 1596.
His custom of swearing, and his obscenity of discourse, are noticed
by Sir Robert Nanton, in Fragmenta Regalia, 1642.
429. Herbert Westphaling: Canon of Windsor. Made Bp. of Hereford in
1585. Ob. 1601-2.
430. In Sept. 1592. See that very curious and entertaining
publication, The Progresses &c. of Queen Elizabeth. Vol. II.
431. Dr. Reynolds: Probably John Reynolds, Pres. of C.C. C. Oxon, in
1598. to whom the following complimentary lines were addressed, in
Bastard's Chrestoleros, Lib. iv. Epig. 34.
Do I call judgement to my foolish rimes,
And rarest art and reading them to view,
REYNOLDS?—religion's oracle most true!
Mirror of art, and Austin of our times!
For love of these I call thee, which I pray
That thou, in reading these, would'st put away.
432. Robert Bennet: Dean of Windsor: succeeded Dr. Westphaling as
Bishop of Hereford in Feb. 1601-2.
433. ipse nos fecit, et non ipsi nos: He made us, and not we
ourselves." Ps. 100:3 (TN)
434. Erudite Benedicte: "Learned and Blessed" (TN)
435. Anthony Watson: Bishop of Chichester, from 1596 to 1605.
436. Richard Vaughan: Archdeacon of Middlesex, and successively
Bishop of Bangor, Chester, and London.
437. Recidivation: i.e. a relapse.
438. Lancelot Andrews: made Bishop of Chichester in 1605, of Ely in
1609, and of Winchester in 1618. He was one of the most eminent of
our English prelates, and had a share in translating the Pentateuch.
He died in 1626, aged 71, and was honoured with a Latin elegy by
Milton. See the valuable edition of his poetical works by Mr. Todd,
vol. vi. p. 190.
439. Richard Mulcaster: a celebrated philologist, and First Master
of Merchant Taylor's school. A copious account of him was printed in
the Gent. Mag. for 1800.
440. Bosom-sermon: One written beforehand and recited. (TN)
441. The old to be more profitable: Luke 5:39 (TN)
442. Andros: "Man" (Greek) (TN)
443. Friar Pinkney: Principal of the Augustinian friars who gave
sermons praising Richard III and his usurpation of the throne in
1483. (TN)
444. Thou leadest thy people like sheep, by the hands of Moses and
Aaron: Psalms 77:20.
445. Aculeus: a sting (TN).
446. Henry Noell: On whom Q. Elizabeth made a rebus; which is given
in Collins's Peerage, and in Walpole's Noble Authors. The following
lines, which occur among Weelkes's Madrigals, 1600, may have been
intended to commemorate the same court gallant.
Noell, adieu!—adieu, thou court's delight,
Upon whose locks the graces sweetly play'd;
Now thou art dead, our pleasure dies outright,
For who can joy, when thou in dust art laid?
Bedew, my notes, his death-bed with your tears;
Time helps some grief; no time our grief outwears."
447. When the Lord turned the captivity of Sion: Psalms 126:1 (TN)
448. Beati Pacifici: ["Blessed peacemakers" [TN]  This title, which
was assumed by K. James, was made by Sir John Stradlyng in 1623, the
theme of what he styled 'a divine poem.'
449. Cunctation: Delay. (TN)
450. Sit omnis homo, &c.: "Let every man be slow to anger, slow to
speak" James 1:19.
451. Thomas Young. Later Abp. of York. QV
452. William Barlow: Dean of Chester. Made Bp. of Rochester in 1605,
and of Lincoln in 1608.
453. Bp. Fisher was beheaded, on a pretence of having been guilty of
high treason, in 1535.
454. Gideon's sword: Judges 7:14; Feeding the multitude: John 6:1-
14. (TN)
455. Unguis in ulcere: "A nail in the wound." Cicero, On His House,
12. (TN)
456. John Underhill: Rector of Lincoln College, Oxford. Made Bp. of
Oxford in 1589. Ob. 1592.
457. His preferrer: Sir Francis Walsingham.
458. Nihil et non: "Nothing at all" (TN)
459. John Bridges: Made Bishop in 1603. Ob. 1619. His works were
very numerous. Vid. Bibl. Bodl. "Being Dean of Sarum, (says Sir J.
H.) he wrote to Bishop J. Still, of Bath and Wells, and inscribed
his letter thus—Joannes de Pontibus Joanni de Fontibus."["From John
of the bridges to John of the wells" [TN]
460. Mr. Douce suggests that this doubt has a probable allusion to
Broughton's "Two little works defensive of our redemption, that our
Lord went through the veil of his flesh into Heaven, to appear
before God for us: which journey a Talmudist would term, a going up
to Paradise; but heathen Greek, a going down to Hades; and Latin,
descendere ad inferos."
461. Such was the opinion adopted by Dr. Johnson, and enforced by
him with peculiar strength of reasoning and felicity of language, in
his celebrated critique on Waller. But a poet has since arisen to
baffle the logic of criticism, and to subvert the domination of
opinion. "Cowper, as his able biographer observes, has dissipated
the general prejudice, that held it hardly possible for a modern
author to succeed in sacred poetry. He has proved, that verse and
devotion are natural allies. He has shown, that true poetical genius
cannot be more honourably, or more delightfully employed, than in
diffusing through the heart and mind of man a filial affection for
his Maker. He has accomplished, as a poet, the sublimest object of
poetical ambition!" Hayley's Life of Cowper, vol. ii. p. 287.
462. Henry Parry: Made Bp. of Gloucester in 1607, and of Worcester
in 1610. Ob. 1616. Dr. Chetwind, in his edit. of this work, had by
some strange heedlessness, converted the name of Parry into that of
Thomson, his successor.
463. The contention for ancestry between our universities, in the
time of Harington, is thus adverted to, by a contemporary writer.
Ad utramque Academiam.*
Why strive, ye sisters, for antiquities
Can not your present honour you suffice?
Why strive, ye sisters, for that vanity
Which, if ye saw as 'twas, ye would despise?
You must make love,—love is the surest hold;
Others must honour you, and make you old.
Bastard's Chrestoloros, 1598.
[* To one or other university [TN]
464. Harington has taken no notice of Edmund Scambler, who was
translated from Peterborough to Norwich, in 1584, by Burleigh, on 
his alienating to him the best manor belonging to the former see.
Mr. Malone, from whom this observation is derived, thinks that our
author's partiality for the Cecils was the cause of this omission.
465. Thomas Dove: Dean of Norwich. Made Bp. of Peterborough in 1600.
Ob. 1630.
466. Aristarchi: Severe critics. The original Aristarchus of
Samothrace was librarian of Alexandria in the 2nd Century BC and was
noted for the severity with which he excluded doubtful material from
his edition of Homer.
467. Infusa: "Infused"; acquisita: "Acquired." (TN)
468. John Holyman, a Monk of Reading, was Bp. of Bristol from 1554
till the time of his death, in 1558.
469. John Thornbury: Or Thornborough; made Bp. of Bristol in 1603,
and translated to Worcester in 1616.
470. Et in hoc saeculo, et in future: "Both in these times, and in
the future." (TN)
471. This is a great sacrament: Ephesians 5:32.
472. Secandum and urendum: "Fire and sword" (TN)
473. Good life is used here, as it seems to have been used by
Shakspeare, for a moral life; though such an acceptation was doubted
by Mr. Steevens. Milton uses it in a similar sense: "Whereas the
paths of honesty and good life appear now rugged and difficult;
though they be indeed easy and pleasant," &c. Reason of Church
Government, Book ii.
474. Anthony Rudde: Dean of Gloucester; made Bp. of St. David: in
1594. Ob. 1614. 479. The story here told of Bishop Rudd, "because
but defectively delivered," Fuller requests the reader's patience to
a longer relation of, in his Church History, Cent. XVII.
475. See this foible fully illustrated in Lord Orford's Royal and
Noble Authors, Art. Essex.
476. Respectively: i.e. respectfully. So in Timon of Athens, Act
iii. Sc. 1, "Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively
welcome, Sir."
477. The heavenly Hierarchy: The nine orders of angels: Cherubim,
Seraphim, Thrones, Dominations, Virtues, Powers, Principalities,
Archangels and Angels (TN)
478. Prosopopeia: "A rhetorical figure by which an imaginary or
absent person is represented as speaking or acting"—OED (TN)
479. The story here told of Bishop Rudd, "because but defectively
delivered," Fuller requests the reader's patience to a longer
relation of, in his Church History, Cent. XVII.
480. Cantate Domino canticum novum: "To sing a new song to the
Lord." Psalm 96:1. (TN)
481. Doctor Anthony Kitchin was Bishop of Llandaff from 1545 till
his death in 1563. He is much blamed by Dr. Godwin for having
impoverished the bishopric by unreasonable demises.
482. It can hardly be thought to deviate much from the plan of this
publication, if the following curious letter is inserted from MS.
Harl. 7030. It was addressed by Theophilus Field, successively
bishop of Llandaff, St. David's, and Hereford, to that "court-
minion," Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.
	"My gracious good Lord,
	In the great library of men that I have studied these
many years, your grace is the best book, and most classic
author that I have read: in whom I find so much goodness,
sweetness, and nobleness of nature; such an heroic spirit, so
boundless bounty, as I never did in any. I could instance in
many, some of whom you have made Deans, some Bishops, some
Lords, and Privy Councillors. None that ever looked toward
your Grace, did ever go empty away. I need go no further than
myself, (a crumb of the earth,) whom some eight years ago, you
raised out of the dust, for raising but a thought so high, as
to serve your Highness. Since that I have not played the
truant, but more diligently studied you than ever before; and
yet (dunce that I am) I stand at a stay, and am a non-
proficient, the book being the same, that ever it was, as may
appear by the great proficiency of others. This wonderfully
poseth me; and sure there is some guile, some coil, in some of
my fellow-students, who hide my book from me, or some part of
it. All the fault is not in my own blockishnes, that I thrive
no better. I once feared this before, that some did me ill
offices. Your Grace was pleased to protest no man had, and to
assure me no man could. My heart tells me it hath been always
upright, and is still most faithful unto you. I have examined
my actions, my words, and my very thoughts, and found all of 
them ever since most sound unto your Grace. Give me leave
after so long patience, (for which virtue you were once
pleased to commend me to my old master King James, and I have
not yet lost it,) now that for these twelve months almost, I
have been not only upon the stage, but upon the rack of
expectation, even distracted betwixt hope and fear, to comfort
myself with recordation of your loving kindnesses of old, when
on that great feast day of your being inaugured our
Chancellor, my look was your book, wherein you read sadness;
to which I was bold to answer, I trusted your Grace would give
me no cause: you replied, with loss of blood rather; that was
your noble expression. But God forbid so precious an effusion;
(I would empty all my veins rather then you should bleed one
drop,) when as one blast of your breath is able to bring me to
the haven where I would be.
	My Lord, I am grown an old man, and am like old
household-stuff, apt to be broken upon oft removing; I desire
it therefore but once for all, be it Ely, or Bath and Wells,
and I will spend the remainder of my days in writing an
history of your good deeds to me and others, whereby I may
vindicate you from the envy and obloquy of this present wicked
age, wherein we live, and whilst I live in praying for your
Grace.
Whose I am totally and finally,
THEOPHILUS LANDAVEN.
To the Most Noble, my singular
good Lord,
my Lord Duke of Buckingham his Grace,
humbly these."
(1626)
483. Francis Godwin: Made Bishop of Llandaff in 1601, and Hereford
in 1617. Ob. 1633. Aet. 71.
484. Instead of thy fathers, &c.: Psalm  45:16.
485. This was done in the presentation copy to Prince Henry, which
is now in the British Museum.
486. This bead-roll Mr. Malone conjectures to have been England's
Helicon; a miscellany first printed in 1600, and intended for
republication, with some other similar collections, by the
accomplished editor of Specimens of early English Poetry.
487. Lord Chancellor: from which office he was displaced by Q.
Elizabeth, for refusing to assist at her coronation.
488. Thomas Young: Translated from St. David's to York, in 1560. Ob.
1568.
489. Bp. Farrar suffered at Carmarthen with incredible fortitude, in
1535. See Foxe's Acts and Monuments, and Billingsly's Brachy-
martyrologia.
490. Bp. Younge was Lord President of the North.
491. Plumbi fœda fames: "Stinking greed for lead." A reference to
Auri sacra fames ("accursed greed for gold") Virgil, Aeneid, Bk. 3.
l. 57. (TN)
492. De male quaesitis vix gaudet tertius haeres: "Ill-gotten gains
will hardly be enjoyed by the third generation." A Latin proverb
widely (but probably falsely) ascribed to Juvenal. (TN)
493. Doctor Edwin Sands: Or Sandys: translated from the see of
Worcester to London in 1570, and to York in 1575. Ob. 1588.
494. Roomer: i.e. wider.
495. Vail: To strike sail, in token of respect or submission.
496. Sir Edwin Sands, Knt. author of Europae Speculum, &c. and
brother to the well-known traveller and poet, George Sandys.
497. Censure is here used for judgment or opinion.
498. Incidi in ancillam cupiens vitare Caribdin: Literally "Wishing
to avoid Caribdin I fell on the maid." The correct expression is
Incidi in Scyllam cupiens vitare Charybdim, "Wishing to avoid
Charybdis I fell on Scylla." Scylla and Charybdis were two monsters
between which Ulysses and his crew had to pass. Homer, Odyssey, Bk
12. (TN)
499. Sir Robert Stapleton: Sheriff of Yorkshire, in the 23d of Eliz.
See Fuller's Worthies. He was descended from Sir Miles, one of the
first founders of the Garter; and allied to Sir Robert, the
translator and dramatic writer.
500. Nulli te facias, &c.: Martial, lib. xii. Epig. 34.
501. Pro superi, &c.: "By the gods! What secret darknesses human
hearts hide! The soldier is viewed as virtuous, in his hateful
crime." Ovid, Metamorphoses, Bk. 6 l. 472-4. (TN)
502. Ore tenus: "made orally." (TN)
503. A whetstone was anciently fastened to notorious liars. Hence,
probably, the old phrase, to lie for the whetstone. In Field's
Admonition to the Parliament, 1572, "lying for the whetstone" is
spoken of as a game. See Strutt's Introduction to his Treatise on
the Sports and Pastimes of England. Mr. Douce has pointed out other
allusions, in Walsingham's Hist. Angliae, and Bulleyn's Dialogue
against the Pestilence.
504. Foil: i.e. a setback. (TN)
505. Robert Parsons, the noted Jesuit, whose book of Resolution,
says Wood, won him a great deal of praise, not only in the judgment
of Roman Catholics, but of very learned Protestants. Athen. Oxon, i.
358.
506. John Piers: Translated from Salisbury to York in 1588. He died
in 1594; leaving behind him the character of a great and modest
theologian. Athen. Oxon. i. 714.
507. Ennius ipse pater, &c.: "Even father Ennius did not jump up to
speak of arms except after drinking." Horace, Epistles, Bk. 1 Ep. 19
l. 7-8 (TN)
508. Quod nimio gaudes, &c.: "I forgive the fact that you enjoy
prolonging the night with too much wine, Gaurus; you have Cato’s
vice." Martial, Epigrams Bk. 2 ep. 89. L 1-2. (TN)
509. The parson of Lymington: Wolsey; who was presented to the
rectory of Lymington, in Somersetshire, by the Marquis of Dorset,
for having undertaken the charge of educating his sons.
510. Matthew Hutton: Translated from Durham to York in 1594. Ob.
1605 Aet. 80.
511. The kingdoms of the earth are mine, &c: Jeremiah 27:6-7.
512. Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare: "Who does know how to
hide their thoughts does not know how to reign" (TN)
513. A great peer: Probably, the Earl of Essex.
514. John Fortescue: Chancellor of the Exchequer.
515. John Wolley: Chancellor of the Order of the Garter.
516. Earl of Exeter: This earldom was granted by King James, in
1604.
517. Famous Matthew: Probably Matthew Parker, Archbishop of
Canterbury.
518. Fuller, in his Church History, says this was "a mistake,
committed, not wilfully, but through false intelligence, by a pen
otherwise more ingenuous, and professing respect to this worthy
prelate." He proceeds to prove that Luke Hutton was not a son of the
bishop, but of Dr. Hutton, prebendary of Durham. Cent. xvii. p. 59.
519. Toby Matthews: Translated from Durham to York in 1606. Ob.
1628. Aet. 82. Camden styles him theologus
praestanstissimus,["foremost theologian"[TN] and says that in him
doctrina cum pietate et ars cum natura certant.["doctrine contended
with piety and art with nature"[TN]
520. Ten reasons: "Rationes decem oblati certaminis in causa fidei,"
[Ten reasons offered in the dispute about faith"[TN] 1581.
521. Qui in concionibus dominatur?: "Who dominates in the pulpit?"
(TN)
522. Insidiari calcaneo: "To lie in wait for the heel." Genesis
3:15. (TN)
523. ???? ??????? ????????/odi memorem compotorem: "I hate
reminiscences of drunken  scenes." (TN)
524. Base: Prison-base, or prison-bars; a rustic pastime still in
vogue. Shakspeare entitles it "the country base." Mr. Strutt has
given a particular description of it in his Sports, &c. of the
People of England, and traces it, as a childish amusement, to the
reign of Edward III.
525. Mother-in-law: Lady Rogers; to whom the author addressed many
of his epigrammatic levities.
526. Haud metuam, &c.: "I hardly fear an accusation, even if I
cannot defend myself against it, shared with such a man." Ovid,
Metamorphoses, Bk. 13. l. 304-5 (slightly misquoted) (TN)
527. Nugax: Trifler. (TN)
528. Dr. Tunstall was translated from London to Durham in 1530. Ob.
1559. Aet. 85.
529. The commendation there cited from Bale, out of Sir Tho. More,
is, "that as there was no man more adorned with knowledge and good
literature, no man of greater integrity for his life and manners, so
there was no man a more sweet and pleasant companions." Godwin's
Catalogue, &c.
530. In baculo meo, &c.: Genesis 32:10 (TN)
531. Using the world as if they used it not: Epist. to the
Corinthians, I. vii. 31. This is the literal rendering of all the
old English translations: but our present version reads--"they that
use this world as not abusing it."
532. Absalom, my son, &c.: 2 Samuel 18:33 (TN)
533. Toby Matthew, the younger, became a Jesuit and a politician. He
was knighted by James I. for the zeal he evinced in carrying on the
Spanish match for Prince Charles; and is introduced by Suckling into
his Session of the Poets, as a court trifler, who "was whispering
nothing in somebody's ear."
534. A Great Earl: Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester; son to John,
Duke of Northumberland. Ob. 1588. Respecting this nobleman Lord
Orford related the following witticism. As he was one day
calculating the expense of forming a park about Cornbury, thinking
to enclose it with posts and rails; a gentleman who stood by, told
the Earl that he did not go the cheapest way to work. "Why?" said
Lord Leicester. "Because," replied the gentleman, "if your Lordship
will find posts, the country will find railing." Walpoliana, i. 10.
535. William James: Dean of Durham; became Bp. in 1606. Ob. 1617.
536. Patrimonium Crucifixi: "The property of the Cross" i.e. of the
Church. (TN)
537. Qui despixit de coelo deridebat eos: "He who looks down from
heaven scoffed at them." (TN)
538. When the Greeks expressed their admiration to Paulus Aemilius,
of his management at a great feast, he told them it required the
same genius to draw up an army, and to order an entertainment; that
the one might be most formidable to the enemy, and the other most
agreeable to the company. Langhorne's Plutarch, vol. ii.
539. Praestat esse caput asini quam cauda leonis: "It is better to
be the head of an ass than the tail of a lion." (TN)
540. Vid. Godwin De Praesulibus Angliae, p. 767.
541. Dr. Oglethorp was deprived of his bishopric about Midsummer
1559, and died in the beginning of the following year.
542. Henry Robinson: Provost of Queen's College, Oxford: made Bp. of
Carlisle in 1598. Ob. 1616. Aet. 63.
543. George Flood, or Lloyd: translated from Sodor and Man to
Chester in 1604. Ob. 1616.
544. Vid. Plutarch, in vit. Lucullus.

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