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.

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