The first Day.

After dinner, for all his great courage and strife to over master the greatnesse of his evill, dissembling the same, the [Page 38] Conquerour of all, about 3. a clock in the afternone began to skirmish, with a suddaine sicknesse and faintenesse of the heart (usuall unto him) whereupon followed shortly after a shaking, with a great heat and headache, which from hence forth never left him; his Highnesse finding himselfe thus suddainely taken, was forced to take his leave, departing home unto his bed; where being laid, hee found himselfe very ill, remaining all this evening in an Agony, having a great drought (which after this could never bee quenched but with death) his eyes also being so dimme, that they were not able to endure the light of a candle; for which that night was or­dained unto him a cordiall of cooling Ptisan for quenching of his thirst, with a moistning broath to bee given at the ending of the fit. This night hee rested ill.

The second Day.

On the morrow after, being Monday the six and twenty of the Month, and [Page 39] the second of his sicknesse; his Highnesse felt small or no ease of his headache, con­tinuing bound in his belly, his pulse beating exceedingly, his water being crude, thinne, and whitish, which moved Doctor Mayerne his Majesties chiefe Phisitian to appoint for him a softning Glister, which accordingly to their de­sire did worke very well. After which his Highnesse finding intermission (which continued all that day) did arise, and put on his cloathes, playing at cards that day, and the next also, with his Brother the Duke of Yorke, and Count Henry; meane while there were many Messages sent from the Court, and every where else, to know how things went, all which (no creature sur­mising the least danger) were answered with good hopes, yet his Highnesse for all this looked ill and pale, spake hol­low, and somewhat straingely, with dead sunck eyes, his drinesse of Mouth and great thirst continuing, for the which that night were ordained unto him by the foresaid Doctors, sharpe, tarte, cor­diall and cooling Iuleps, prepared with [Page 40] all kind of Cordials and Anditotes pos­sible, his brothes and gellies being with the same care ordained: yet his drought and headache continuing (which could not bee stayed) hee remained still very ill, this night resting quietly.

The third Day.

On Tuesday the seven and twenty, the third day of his sicknesse, hee found some ease in the morning, so that they were all in good hope that it would have proved but some Tertian, or ba­stard Tertian at the most, notwithstan­ding that his Highnesse, ghastly rowling uncouth lookes, did put them in some feare.

This day, his Majesty did send Ma­ster Nasmith his Surgeon to attend his Highnesse during his sicknesse, unto whom, and divers others conferring of his Highnesse sicknesse, and the danger of the same; Doctor Mayerne did say, that in his judgement the surest way for his Highnesse safety was bleeding (as [Page 41] was thought) very substantially proving from the very dangerous forenamed acti­dents and indications of this Tertian, which he feared to be venemous, by rea­son humors seated in the naturall parts, inclining by reason of the quantity, to a continuall; that bleeding chiefly, and that in great quantity with reiteration (if need so required:) Now whilest his Highnesse was strong, naturall heate not being decayed, nor too much opres­sed, before that Feaver turned continuall, and he weaker, and lesse able to endure hereafter, would prove the surest way for his safety. But the same his opinion, not being allowed of the rest (whom by conference, when he named, or spoke of blood) he found directly opposite▪ there was as yet no consultation for blood let­ting, nor any inclination that wayes.

This morning hee did rise and put on his cloathes, but his fit comming about noone; first with a cold, then a great heate, without any sweat, continuing un­till eight a clocke at night, he was forced to goe to bed againe, this night resting quietly.

The fourth Day.

On Wednesday the eight and twen­tieth, and fourth day of his sicknesse, in the morning, came Master Butler, the fa­mous Physitian of Cambridge, a marvei­lous great Scholler, and of long Pra­ctise, and singular judgement, but with­all very humerous; who (whatsoever he thought) comforting him with good hopes, that hee would shortly recover, and that there was no danger; yet se­cretly unto others, did not let to speake doubtfully, (as they say, his humour is) that he could not tell, what to make of it, and that he did not well like of the same; adding further, that if he did re­cover, he was likely to lye by it for a great while, with divers other like spee­ches, neither could he be perswaded, all the time of his Highnesse sicknesse, to stay any longer with him, then one houre, or thereabouts, every morning, and so in the afternoone, to give his counsell and advise with the rest: what moved him I know not, whether he did [Page 43] mislike the French Doctors company, or because the Cure was not committed to him as chiefe, or being jealous, and misliking his Highnesse disease, and there­fore loved not to meddle to much in the Cure (which I rather imagine;) or whether his health or humor impeach­ed the same, I dare not judge; the curi­ous may best learne from himselfe, yet having at his comming enquired what was done, hee approved the same, and wished the continuance of the same pro­ceedings, untill a further judgement might be given of the same event: yet did his Highnesse finde small or no ease, but his Feaver, as yet not being continu­all, he did rise and put on his clothes, they all as yet conceiving reasonable good hopes.

The former daies and this, his stomack was not quite lost, but he would now and then take some such meate as the Physitians thought fitting; yet the Do­ctors, viz. Mayerne, Hamond, Butler, all considering the greatnesse of the danger, and the strangenesse of the Disease, the [Page 44] Water in no way shewing the same, which made them the loather to meddle, untill the Crisis were seene, his Highnes remaining in the same estate, the many dangerous forenamed accidents, with the good of the former evacuations, his bel­ly now being hard bound, &c. would willingly have had more Doctors called for consultation; which his Highnesse altogether refusing to allow of, because of the confusion. They by a generall consent (his Highnesse then having in­termission of his Fever) under all their hands, did by their owne report, give unto him a Purgation of Sene sod, and Rhubard, infused in Cordiall and cooling Liquors, with Syrupe of Roses loosing, which working seven or eight times, brought away great store of putred Choler, and in the end Phlegme, the Vrine inclining somwhat towards con­coction. But his Highnesse after the wor­king thereof, found not that ease that was expected; yet was still fed with hopes of his recovery. But night being come, (towards which, during all his sicknesse, he grew worse then in the morning, [Page 45] wherein he was more sober alwaies then in the evening) his Head-ache, droughts and other accidents, continuing, though not with extremity, he rested ill, and un­quietly.

The fifth day.

On the Thursday the nine and twen­tieth, and fifth day of his sicknesse, hopes began a little to diminish, howbeit that morning his headache was somewhat lessened, his breath also (which before was short) being longer, which moved him to put on his cloathes, endeavouring to rise as he had done before; but his head being so giddy, that he was not able to stand alone, hee was forced to betake him to his bed againe, from henceforth ever keeping his bed: Neverthelesse the ting­ling of his eares, the leapings and bound­ings continuing alike; as also a small fitt comming upon him, with a litle coldnes, the Fever thereafter being continual, with many small intermissions, and small and great redoublings, the violence whereof caused his tongue to become blacke and [Page 46] drie, the leapings, and boundings, and singing of the eares encreasing. Many neere unto him, jealous of so bad signes without amendment, feared the worst, his Highnesse now being forced to keepe his bed continually, his head being so giddy, that he could not stand upright, his eyes also so dimme, that he could not indure the candle light; yet still the Do­ctors, by reason of his extraordinary pa­tience (not fully knowing the danger which afterwards appeared) not willing nor daring to bee too bold, untill some certaine further knowledge, delaied to conclude of any thing, save that his Highnesse should still be plyed with all sorts of Cordiall Iuleps, which Art, or experience could thinke of. Master But­lers advise, they say, was the same, that Cordials externall, and internall, the restoratives and diet begun, should bee continued.

Thus, no other course as yet being thought of, still expecting the successe of new daies; delaies bred danger, his Highnesse remained ill, having no eva­cuation [Page 47] by sweate, neither was it expe­dient (as was thought) to force the same, still expecting Natures owne time, which deceived them.

This evening there appeared a fatall signe about two houres or more within the night, A Lunar Rainbow very rare, and com­monly fa­tall. bearing the colours and shew of a Rainbow, which hung directly crosse and over Saint Jameses House, V. Arist. Metor. it was first perceived about seven a clock at night, which I my selfe did see, which divers others looking thereupon with admiration, continuing untill past bed time, being no more seene. This night was unquiet, and hee rested ill.

The sixt Day.

On Friday the six and thirtieth day of his sicknesse, hee remained in the same estate, no Creature knowing what to say or make of his sicknesse, some fearing one thing, and some another, the Doctors still attending the issue of the eight day, but for all that his Highnesse feaver remained continuall, withall the for­mer [Page 48] cruell accidents, for which this mor­ning was given him a Glister for washing of his bowels, in which hee found some ease.

About three a Clock in the afternone came his lesser Doubling, during which, his breath became short, his face very red, his pulse beating very swiftly; in which fit his nose began to bleed (as some thought about two ounces, then after staying of it selfe, whereby hee found some ease, not having bleed (as his custome was) of a great while be­fore.

From this time forth, chiefely Doctor Mayerne, with Master Nasmith, his Ma­jesties Chirurgion, began to propound the necessity of bleeding, as heretofore they had done, whereunto nature now invited, the Feaver remaining conti­nuall, with a great abounding fulnesse, in a constitution excessively hot, in a body which had much used bleeding, deprived of that benefit for some Mo­neths before, yet the rest being sparing [Page 49] and loath to heare of the same, there was nothing done, this day also passing as the rest; All this while the excessive paine of his head continuing, as also his heate and thirst, for which his mouth and tongue were continually washed; yet for all this his Highnesse and the rest were still encouraged, that hee should shortly recover, although indeed hee became still worse and worse. This night hee rested ill, being alwayes some­what better in the morning.

The seventh Day.

On Saturday the last of the Moneth, and seventh of his sicknesse, there ap­peared no amendment, his Highnesse continuing in a wonderfull excessive heat, after which came the great redou­bling, raving as hee was awake, with blacknesse, drines, and clifts in his tongue, was continually applied with all things needfull, but to no purpose, save a little ease for the present, as also the tingling of the eares, leapings and boundings became greater, the vrines [Page 50] more crude, yet no way shewing the danger of the disease all this while, untill a little before his death; Over and above all other griefes hee found his head exceedingly pained, a thing lying as it had beene a lumpe in his forehead, which together with the ulceration of his throat, made him loth to speake, but when hee must needs, and then not with­out great paine, the extremity, as it were, of the evill overcomming and stupifying the vitals and senses, striving to subdue naturall heat, and oppressing the heart, notwithstanding the doubling and tre­bling of the Cordials to withstand the same.

This day also, Nature (as the day be­fore) though not in quantity, did (as was said) shew the necessity of bleeding, for which cause it was with more in­stance againe propounded, and urged, then ever, as th' onely meanes, under God, to save his Highnesse; at length after much adoe pro & contra, Doctor Mayerne urging, and Master Butler chiefe­ly withstanding the same, mistaking the [Page 51] first beginning of his Highnesse sicknesse; in the end, the three Doctors, Mayerne, Ha­mond, and Butler did agree, that on the morrow being Sunday (the eight broken, and the seventh whole day of his last sicknesse) a vaine should bee opened; all this while untill his bleeding was past, they conceived good hope of his recovery, yet hee remained dangerously ill; you must imagine that all this while of his sicknesse, the whole World did almost every houre send unto Saint Jameses for newes; the better sort who were admitted to visit him; or acquain­ted with those neere unto him, knowing the danger, the rest fearing nothing, ima­gining it onely to have beene some Common Tertian, for which cause in many places neere unto the City hee was thought dead and gone, before they knew that hee was dangerously sick. This night was more cruell and unquiet unto him then any other.

The eight Day.

On Sunday the first of November, and the eight day of his sicknesse, according to their former agreement, after much adoe, Master Butler resisting to consent that hee should bee let bloud, because (as hee said) it was the eight day, profe­ring to have left them, untill hee was for­ced to stay and give his consent; Doctor Hamond and others proving unto him, that it was not the eight day, his High­nesse being ill of a long time before, (howsoever hee strangly with a won­derfull courage and patience concealed the same;) his Highnesse being still af­ter one, in the presence of the foresaid Doctors and divers others of very good worth, in the morning was drawne out of the Median of his right Arme, seven or eight ounces of bloud, during which time hee fainted not, bleeding well and aboundantly, desiring and calling to them to take more as they were about to stoppe the same, finding some ease as it were upon the instant; The bloud be­ing [Page 53] cold, was seene of all to bee thinne, corrupt and putred, with a cholerick and blewish water above, without a­ny Fibres or small strings therein scarce congealed.

This day after his bleeding hee found great ease, insomuch as since the begin­ning of his sicknesse, hee had not found himselfe so well, his pulse inclining to­wards a more Gentle motion missing his former wonted cruell doublings, and his former accidents being lesse and more mild. This afternoone hee was visited by his Royall Father, Mother, Brother, Sister, the Palsgrave, with di­vers others of the Court, all which con­ceiving good hopes, departed from thence reasonably cheerefull. Yet that night (though better then others) hee pas­sed unquietly.

The ninth Day.

On Monday the second of Novem­ber, and ninth of his sicknesse, hee be­came worse then ever, the great redou­bling [Page 54] comming upon him, accompanied with rednesse of face, shortnesse of breath, increase of drought, blacknesse of his tongue, with excessive heat, some­what lesse then it was the seventh day, and benumbings, which now with the encrease of all the former accidents tor­mented him; briefely, so many evill signes appeared, that some of the Do­ctors then plainely affirmed, that by violence of the disease, the bloud and humours were retired in aboundance, with great violence towards the braine, filling the vaines aboundantly (as after­wards in the opening did appeare) by reason whereof the paine of his head was extreame great, his Spirits being as it were overcome.

This morning, Doctor Atknis (a Phi­sitian of London, famous for his practice, honesty, and learning) was sent by his Majesty to assist the rest in the cure; whose opinion (as they said) was, that his High­nesse disease was a corrupt putred Fe­ver, the seat whereof was under the liver in the first passages, the malignity [Page 55] whereof, he thought, by reason of the putrifaction (in almost the highest de­gree) was venemous.

This day and the next, he was visi­ted by the King his Father, and others of the Court, whose exceeding sorrow I cannot expresse, yet were they still fed with some good small hopes of his recovery. All this while, although hee grew every day worse and worse, yet none discouraged him with any speech of death (so loath they were to thinke of his departure) hee himselfe being so tormented with this, and the next dayes sicknesse, that he could not thinke there­of; or if hee had, yet the Physitians courage, and hope of life, which good opinion (his unspeakable patience not a­ny way complaining, so that he could not have beene knowne to be sicke, but by his lookes) moved them to conceive, telling him there was no danger, dash­ed the same.

This night came upon him greater a­lieanation of braine, ravings, and idle [Page 56] speeches out of purpose, calling for his Cloathes, and his Rapier, &c. saying, he must bee gone, hee would not stay, and I know not what else, to the great griefe of all that heard him, whose hopes now began to vanish.

The tenth day.

On Tewsday the third of the Moneth, and the tenth of his Sicknesse, he became worse then before, all his former acci­dents encreasing exceedingly, his bound­ings, being turned into Convulsions, his raving and benumming, becomming greater, the Feaver more violent; wher­upon bleeding was againe proposed by Doctor Mayern and the Favorers thereof, who still affirmed, that he did mislike the too sparing proceeding with his High­nesse; aleaging, that in this case of ex­tremity, they must (if they meane to save his life) proceed in the Cure, as though it were to some meane person, forgetting him to bee a Prince, whom they had now in hand, otherwise he said, (for ought he saw) because hee was a Prince he must die, but if he were a meane [Page 57] person, he might bee saved. But this his opinion being disallowed of most, they continued and increased their Cordials, giving unto him a Glister, which brought away abundance of corrupt and putred matter, together with some Raysons, which (as was thought) hee had eaten twelve daies before.

This day also for easing of the ex­treame paine of his head, the haire was shaven away, and Pigeons and cupping Glasses applyed to lessen and draw away the humour, and that superfluous blood from the Head, which hee endured with wonderfull and admirable patience, as though he had beene insensible of paine; yet all without any good, save perhaps, some small seeming hope of comfort for the present.

Now began the Pilots, who guided this fraile Barque of his highnesse body, almost to despaire, to escape the ensuing Tempests; some of whose lookes did now more then ever discourage the rest. For this night he became very weake, [Page 58] the Fever augmenting, the raving be­comming worse then ever, in which he began to tosse and tumble, to sing in his sleepe, profering to have leaped out of the bed, gathering the sheets together, the convulsions being more violent; In which extremity, his tongue, mouth, and throat being more dry then ever, yet cal­led he not for any kind of moisture, com­plaining of thirst, which evidently shew­ed, that the vehemencie of his disease had overcome the seat of reason, other­wise he could not but have complained, as he did before.

The eleventh day.

On Wednesday the fourth of Novem­ber, and the eleventh day of his Sicke­nesse, all hopes of recovery were lesse then ever, the Phisitians, Chirurgeons, and Apothecaries beginning to bee dis­maied, but that like sout Pilots, they did beare it out bravely, so long as was possible; yet (as men perplexed in such an extremity) the most part were of opi­nion, that the Crisis was to be seene, be­fore [Page 59] a finall resolution, of which there was as yet small appearance: all the for­mer accidents meane while encreased, the whole world beginning to be afraide. This day a Cocke was cloven by the backe, and applyed unto the soles of his feet, but in vaine; the Cordials also were redoubled in number and quanti­tie, but without any profit.

This afternoone his Majestie hea­ring of his undoubted danger (al­though more sober then at other times) came to see him; but being advertised how matters went, and were likely to go, and what addition of griefe it would bee unto him, to see his best beloved Sonne in that extremity, he was at last perswa­ded to depart without Visitation, yet gi­ving order and command before his de­parture, that from thenceforth (because his Highnesse was continually molested with a number, which out of their love came to visit him) no creature should bee admitted to see him, save those who of necessitie must tend upon him, untill the event and issue of his Disease were seene, [Page 60] which was accordingly done; His High­nes for his more ease, being removed into another longer and quieter Iust over this Chamber (wherein he dyed) did the end of the fatall Rainebow, aforementioned, hang (as Doctor Mayerne observed.) Chamber. But now all things appea­ring to bee out of frame, and confusedly evill, with­out hope of amendment, whereof the Archbishop of Canterbury hearing, he made so much the more haste unto his Highnesse, whom after some discourse fitting that time, seeing so much care to be taken for the mortall body, the immortall Soule being Notwithstanding the Prince was seriously remem­bred, to commend himselfe into the hands of God, (be­fore this) by Doctor May­erne, who found his resoluti­on therein, to bee most hea­venly and Divive. neglected; He asked his Highnesse, whether there had been any Prayers said in his Chamber, since his Sicknesse, or no? To whom he answered, that there had not: aleaging the cause to have beene, the con­tinual toile of the Doctors, Apothecaries, and Surgeons about him; and further, that untill now, he was not put in minde thereof. But that, for all that, he had not failed to pray quietly by himselfe, which his answere pleasing them well; the Archbishop againe demanded, if his [Page 61] Highnesse would now from thence forth bee contented to have prayers said in his Chamber, which hee willingly as­sented unto, asking which of his Chap­laines were there present; amongst whom, finding that Doctor Milborne Deane of Rochester was there present, hee willed the said Deane to bee called, as being one, whom for his learning, good carriage, and profitable preaching, above all the rest hee ever affected and respected.

The Archbishop meane while not willing to much to disquet his High­nesse, called for to say prayers that eve­ning at his Highnesse bed side, where speaking somewhat low, fearing to offend his distempered eares, his High­nesse willed him to speake aloud, there­after repeating the confession of his faith word by word after him; from henceforth the foresaid Deane conti­nued to pray dayly with him at his bed side untill his departure. This night was unquiet as the rest.

The twelfth Day.

On Thursday morning the fifth of November, and twelfth of his sicknesse, newes was sent unto his Majesty of the undoubted danger, and that there now remained no hopes or means of his High­nesse recovery, but with desperate and dangerous attempts, which his Majesty considering, gave leave and absolute power to Doctor Mayerne (his chiefe Phisition) to doe what hee would of himselfe, without advise of the rest, if in such an extremity it were possible to doe any thing for his Highnesse safety; But hee weighing the greatnesse of the cure & emminency of the danger, would not for all that adventure, to doe any thing of himselfe, without advise of the rest (which hee alwayes tooke) saying, that it should never bee said in after Ages, that hee had killed the Kings eldest Sonne; His Majesty meane while (whose sorrow no tongue can expresse) not willing, nor being able to stay so neere the Gates of so extreame sorrow, more [Page 63] like a dead, then a living man, full of most wonderfull heavinesse, removed [...]o Theobalds (a house twelve miles from London) there to expect the dolefull e­vent.

Meane while amongst the Doctors Mayerne, Hamond, Butler, and Atkins, bleeding was now the third time pro­posed, some of them (as I thinke Doctor Mayerne) affirming, that the bloud, which the vapours being violently thrust up­wards, filling the braine, did cause by the maligne acrimony and quantity thereof, ravings and convulsions; which accidents (although without seeming paine) be­cause the Spirits were oppressed) did put his Highnesse in imminent danger, more then the benumings, the cause whereof was within the ventricles of the braine, as also the said hot and cholerick bloud in the membranes; All which considered and that his Highnesse was yet of sufficient strength of body, his pulse also able to endure, they said, the opening of a vaine was in their judge­ment the onely meanes left: But the rest [Page 64] of the Counsell misliking this advise did conclude to double and treble the Cordials, making a revulsion from the head with a clister, whose working was to small effect, save that his Highnesse became more sensible thereafter: In the meane time the Archbishop of Canterbury hearing of the danger, came unto his Highnesse in great hast, where finding him in extreame danger, hee thought it now more then high time to goe about another kind of cure; and therefore, like a wise and skilfull Phisitian, first trying the humour of his patient, before he [...] would proceed in the cure, hee addressed himselfe gently and mildly to aske how his Highnesse found himselfe since his departure; at whose reply, seeing every thing amisse, hee began againe furthe [...] to feele his mind, first preparing him his Antidote against the feare of death▪ that the preparation thereunto, medita­tion, and thinking thereof, could, no [...] would bring death the sooner, but the contrary rather, arming himselfe so much the more against it; withall put­ting him in mind of the Excellency and [Page 65] Immortality of the Soule, with the un­speakeable joyes prepared for Gods [...]hildren; and the basenesse and misery of the earth, with all the vaine, incon­stant, momentary and fraile pleasures thereof, in respect of heavenly Ioyes; with many other most excellent me­ditations against the same feare of death.

Having thus prepared him to heare, hee went further, putting him in mind of the Exceeding great danger hee was in, and that although hee might recover (as hee hoped hee should) yet hee might also die; and that since it was an inevita­ble and irrevocable necessity that All must once die, late or soone. (Death be­ing the reward of sinne) hee asked, if it should so fall out, whether or no hee was well pleased to submit himselfe to the Will of God; to which hee answered, yea withall his heart. Then the Arch­bishop went on demanding questions of his faith; First of the Religion and Church wherein hee lived; which his Highnesse acknowledged to bee the one­ly [Page 66] true Church, wherein onely, and without which there was no salvation▪ Then of his faith in Christ onely, by him, and in him, without any merits of his owne, being assured of the Remission of all his sinnes; which hee professed hee did, hoping and trusting onely therein; Then of the Resurrection of the body, life everlasting, and the joyes of Heaven▪ All which hee confessed and beleeved, hoping withall Saints to enjoy the same.

This conference, with a great deals more, the Archbishop had with him to this purpose; (which may also give unto you absolute satisfaction of his Soules health▪ if thereunto his life bee conside­red.) After which, fearing hee should too much disquiet him, with many good exhortations, hee tooke leave for that time.

This day being the fifth of November▪ a day of everlasting remembrance and thanksgiving for our deliverance from the Powder Treason, was order given [Page 67] every where unto all Churches, to pray for his Highnesse, untill when, the great danger was unknowne to the Commons, which was effectually as ever untill his death performed.

This day, and at sundry other times since his confusion of speech, hee would many times call upon Sir David Murray Knight (the onely man in whom hee had put choise trust) by his name David, David, David, who when hee came unto his Highnesse, demanding his pleasure, in extremity of paine, and stupefaction of senses confounding his speech, sigh­ing, hee did reply, I would say some­what, but I cannot utter it; which forme hee still used, so long as hee had any per­fect sence or memory.

This done, also (but too late) to as­sist the rest, came Doctor Palmer, and Doctor Gifford famous Phisitians for their honesty, learning, and Phisick, who with the former foure went all six to a consultation what now remained; finally to bee done, wherein by some (as they [Page 68] say) was againe propounded the necessity of bleeding, the oportunity whereof, by the evacuation of his belly was now over passed.

In the end, the Doctors (long before this despairing of his recovery) did at last agree upon Diascordium, as the one­ly meanes (under God) now remaining, which tempered with cooler Cordials, was given him in the presence of many honourable Gentlemen, about tenne a Clock at night, the operation whereof was small or none; neither all this while did nature of it selfe incline towards sweating, and to force the same they thought it to no purpose. This night was unquiet as the rest, his accidents remaining in the same sort, but now and then speaking, but so confusedly that hee could not bee understood.

Among the rest, this night about mid­night, Master Nasmith his Majesties Chirurgeon sitting on his bed side, his Highnesse pulled him unto him by the hand, speaking unto him somewhat, but so confusedly, by reason of the ratling [Page 69] of his Throat, that hee could not bee understood; which his Highnesse per­ceiving, giving a most grievous sigh, as it were in anger turned him from him; thereafter (unlesse hee were urged) ne­ver speaking unto him, or any.

In this extremity, (Sir David Murray, who in this one death suffered many) came unto him, intreating him, & asking him, that if hee had any thing to say which troubled him, that hee would be­times make knowne his mind: but his Spirits being overcome, and nature weake, hee was not able to say any thing, save that of all other businesse hee gave order for the burning of a number of Letters in a certaine cabinet in his clo­set, which presently after his death was done.

Not long after (as I thinke) on Friday morning about three a clock, his back­bove, shoulders, armes and tongue, by reason of the horrible violence of the convulsions, dis-joyntingly deviding themselves, the effect shewing that the [Page 70] retentive power was gone, the Spirits subdued, the seat of reason overcome, and nature spent, in which extremity, fainting and sounding, hee seemed twice or thrice to bee quite gone, at which time there arose wonderfull great shouting, weeping and crying in the Chamber, Court, and adjoyning streets, which was so great (together with somewhat else which they used) that they brought him againe.

This crie was so great, that all those in the streets thought hee had beene dead; whereupon it went for the most part currant in the City and Countrey that hee was gone.

I am not able to expresse the un­speakeable sorrow which every where was for this wofull newes, chiefely in that dolefull house, you may imagine no thought can thinke the greatnesse thereof, nor understanding conceive the same, this little which I have said, over­lading my weakenesse.

[Page 71] Thus given over of all into the hands of God, did his Highnesse lie in extreame paine; during which, still now and then (till two or three houres before his death) looking up, and speaking, or en­deavouring to speake, which for con­fusion and extremity of paine (being so neere gone) could not bee understood, all the World were ready in this de­spaire, to bring cordiall waters Diaphore­tick, and Quintissentiall Spirits to be given unto him; amongst which, one in the afternoone was ministred; which set that little nature remaining, on worke, for­cing a small sweat, which, too late, was the first hee had; Sir Walter Raleigh also did send another from the Tower, which whether or no to give him, they did a while deliberate.

After the operation of the first, his Highnesse rested quietly a little while, presently after falling into his former extremities; whereupon (as the last de­sperate remedy) with the leave and ad­vise of the Lords of the Counsell there present, the cordiall sent by Sir Walter [Page 72] Raleigh (after it had beene tasted and proved) was given unto him; but in vaine, save that forcing that sparke of life that remained, it brought him againe into a sweat; after which, as before hee had some rest for a little while. But, no remedy, death would needs bee Con­querour; in vaine did they strive against the streame, for hee shortly after became wonderfull ill againe; sight and sence failing, as also all the infallible signes of death approaching; In which extre­mity, the Archbishop of Canterbury be­ing there present, who seeing it was now the time of times, before the last gaspe, to minister some comfort unto his High­nesse (if as yet there were any sence re­maining) came unto him, first speaking aloud; putting him in mind of all those things which hee had spokn unto him the day before in his perfect sense, cal­ling aloud in his eare, to remember Christ Jesus, to beleeve, hope, and trust onely in him, with assured confidence of mercy, to lift up his heart, and prepare him to meete the Lord Iesus, with many other divine exhortations: Thereafter [Page 73] calling more loud then ever, thrice to­gether in his eare, Sir heare you mee, heare you mee, heare you mee; If you heare mee, in certaine signe of your faith, and hope of the blessed resurrection, give us for our comfort a signe, by lifting up of your hands, which hee did, lifting up both his hands together: Againe hee desired him yet to give him another signe, by lifting up his eyes; which ha­ving done, they let him alone; For the Archbishop had with streames of teares, powred out at his bed side, a most excee­ding powerfull passionate prayer.

All this while also, from three a clock in the morning untill night, there was continuall prayer in the house, and in every place where the danger was knowne; by which his time growing neerer and neerer, and hee weaker and weaker; Thus did hee lie, patiently stri­ving betwixt death and life, unavoida­ble necessity, and Gods will forcing pa­tience, and againe invincible courage and magnanimity (loath to bee overcome) shewing some indignation and con­tempt [Page 74] of death: yea death it selfe (for all his cruelty) stood a long while hovering in doubt what to doe▪ so did his Highnesse young yeares, his Triumphes at hand, the teares, and exceeding sorrow of Fa­ther, Mother, Brother, Sister, the how­ling cries of his Servants▪ and of the whole Land (who said, her losse, above all was most unspeakeable) move his hard heart to pitty: But a greater crie before this, having outcried those cries (even the crie of our sinnes) there was no remedy: for death (although un­willing) not being able to resist the fore­passed decree, must needs strike the cruell stroke; Many times did hee from that morning untill night offer to shoote and thrust in his dart a little, yet pulling it presently back againe, as it were of pur­pose delaying the time, expecting some mercifull Message from Heaven, untill at last the cloudy night bewraying the irrevocable doome, by natures decay, the excesse of paine having taken away the sense thereof, of meere pitty, that thereby hee might open unto him the doore of Heaven for his passage into [Page 75] glory, being loath that the Angell, (who had long attended to convey his Soule unto Heaven, should make any longer stay) he thrust his Dart quite tho­row; After which, his Highnesse quiet­ly, gently, and patiently, halfe a quar­ter, or thereabouts, before eight a clocke at night, yeelded up his Spirit unto his Immortall Maker, Saviour, and Resto­rer, being attended unto Heaven, with as many Prayers, Teares and strong Cries, as ever Soule was, on Fryday the sixth of November, 1612. The Corps shortly af­ter (as the Custome is) was laide along upon a Table on the floore, being the fairest, clearest, and best proportioned, without any kinde of spot or blemish, as ever was seene.

On the Morrow after came the Lords of the Councell, by appointment from his Majestie, to give order for the ope­ning of his Body, &c. which was the same night effected, about five a clocke in the Evening, in presence of the Physi­tians and Chirurgions who assisted the Cure, together with the Phisitian of the [Page 76] Prince Palatine, with many other Knights, and Gentlemen, in the Cham­ber where he dyed, by the Chyrurgeons of his Majestie, and his late Highnesse, under all their hands, as followeth.

The skinne like that of a dead man, blacke; but no way spotted with black­nesse, or pale markes, much lesse marked with purples like flea-bites, which could shew any contagious or pestilentiall Ve­nome. About the place of his kidnyes, hips, and behind the thighes, full of red­nesse; and by reason that with great paine he had a long while lien upon his backe, his belly somewhat swollen and stretched out, by reason of the windinesse which issued out of the smallest opening made in the Navill, somewhat high na­turally, incontinently the belly falling; The stomacke whole and wholesome within and without, having never all his sickenesse time beene troubled with vo­mitings, loathings, or yealpings, or any other accident which could particularly shew that it was attainted. The Liver without, in his highest parts marked with [Page 77] small spots, and in the lower with small blackish lines, paller and blacker then was fitting; The Gall, Bladder, void of of any humour, full of wind: The Spleen on the top, and in the lower end black­ish, filled with a blacke heavy blood: The Kidneies faire, and without any ble­mish. The Midriffe under the Filme, or Membrane, containing the heart (which contained a little moisture) spotted with blacke, as it were a Leadish colour, by reason of the bruising: The lungs al­most for the greatest part blacke, the rest all spotted with blacke, all im­brewed, and full of a dust blood, with a corrupt and thicke serocitie, which by a vent made in the body of the Lungs, came forth foaming in great abundance; in which doing, and in cutting the small skinne which invironeth the heart, to shew the same, the Surgeon by chance having cut the Trunck of the great veine, the most part of the bloud issued out in­to the Chest, leaving the lower veines empty; upon sight whereof the Com­pany did draw consequents of an ex­treame heat and fulnesse, the which ap­peared yet more evident in this, that the [Page 78] windepipe with the throat and tongue were convered with a thicke blackenesse, and amongst other accidents, the tongue cleft, and dry in many places: The heart sound and dry, in all appearance, good in all his quallities.

The hinder veines which are in the in­most filme of the braine, called Piamater, swolne and stuft with aboundance of blood, a great deale more then naturall; the substance of the braine faire and cleare, but the ventricles thereof full of a cleare water, which after the incision ranne foorth in great aboundance: One part of which accidents (as they thought) was ingendred, onely by reason of the Fever maligne, by reason of the putrifa­ction of divers humors gathered toge­ther of a long time before, his High­nesse not being subject to any dangerous sickenesse by birth; the other part, by reason of the convulsions, resoundings and benummings, which by reason of the fulnesse, choaking the naturall heat, and destroying the Vitals, by their ma­lignitie, have conveyed his Highnesse to [Page 79] the grave, without any token or accident of poyson.

Thus (or very neere thus) lost wee the delight of mankind, the expectation of Nations, the strength of his Father, and glory of his Mother, Religions se­cond hope; Foolish people immagine that they have done enough, when they have railed upon the Physitians, as though they could have altered Provi­dence, by prolonging his life, never tru­ly beholding the Omnipotent power be­reaving him, which although in his sick­nesse, untill the blow was given, could not be seene, yet now (even of the blind) may be easily discerned. And I pray you, if we narrowly looke upon the practise of the meanes, what omission of duty shall we find therein? Some neere his Highnesse, together with Doctor Mayern, at first called and wished he might bleed, others againe, misliked the same, both learned.

The Physitians, although jarring at first in their Propositions and reasons, at [Page 80] last did every thing by a common con­sent under all their hands; Nothing was wanting, which either Art or ex­perience could thinke thereof, whatsoe­ver they did, they alwaies thought most safest and best. They toiled continually day and night▪ and if it pleased not God to give a blessing to the meanes, must they therefore be blamed? You know Paul may plant, and Apollos may water but it is God that giveth the increase. But imagine, there had beene any such strife amongst them, the Physitians, as it is re­ported, what should we thinke thereof, but that the God of Order will some­time have his will, brought to passe, by a kind of confusion, as he overthrew the Tower of Babel, with the hosts of Midian, &c. So in Phisicke, when his will must be done, if it please him to breake and take away the staffe of bread, not bles­sing the meanes; who, I say, can let him (whose will must be our law) to doe whatsoever he will.

Indeed his Highnesse great and extra­ordinary patience, striving so long to o­vermaster, [Page 81] and hide the same in his health, in my judgement, did much wrong the Physitians, who by reason of his patience, never dreamed of his danger; as also his most wonderfull and matchlesse pa­tience all the time of his Sicknesse, shew­ing no kind of froward disposition; ly­ing in shew (for any complaints were heard of him) as though hee had never been sicke nor sore. As also the Vrines, which untill a little before his Death, shewed no such danger; with the dan­gerous unknowne state of his greatest griefe closely rooted in his head (as in the opening hath beene seene) which could not at first be fully knowne, un­till too late; the picture of Death by a strange extraordinary countenance, ha­ving from the beginning possessed him: vaine rumors also have beene spread a­broad, that he was poysoned: But if the former Discourse be well considered, his Death, in my judgement, will appeare to have beene naturall, grounded upon ve­ry urgent causes. For the Physitians in opening found no such cause in his inter­nals, upon his skinne being no kinde of [Page 82] spot, or any such suspition. To surmise as some have done, that hee was poisoned by a Sent, considering the premises, mee thinkes were great folly, contrary to the opinions of all the learned, who up­on this relation to his Majesty, proved him free from any such infection: For my part, my skill reacheth not to deter­mine of any thing; onely I thinke it best to hold, that hee died in the rage of a malicious and extraordinary burning Feaver, wherein his vitals and senses were from the beginning so over-pres­sed, stupified, and amazed, chiefely the heart and head, which notwithstanding all cordials and other helpes used (God not blessing the meanes) could never bee releeved.

The Monday after, the Right honou­rable the Lords of the Privy Counsell of his Majesty, with exceeding care came to Saint Iameses, to give order for all things belonging to so wofull a busi­nesse; according to which, the whole House, Chappell, great Chamber, Pre­sence, Lobby, Privy Chamber, and Bed [Page 83] Chamber were all hung in black with all things fitting, thick set with Scutche­ons of his Highnesse divers Armes, which being done, under the State in the Chamber where hee first sickened, appointed for the Coffin, there was a place erected above an Ell in heigth, where it was to stand to bee watched untill the Funerall; Threescore and tenne Gentlemen of his Servants, ordinary and extraordinary (which were all hee had) being appointed night and day to attend the same, tenne at a time, it being so ordered that the tenne who watched in the night, did constantly wait the third day after; Meane while was order given that the Funerall should bee solemnized on Monday the 7. of December follow­ing; untill which time, I will not renew griefes in remembring the unspeakeable sorrow which was in that wofull House, now longing to doe their last du­ty.

The time of the Funerall now ap­proaching, on Thursday the third day of December, the Coffin was removed [Page 84] from the Chamber where it stood all this while, unto the Privy Chamber, there being watched for that night. On the morrow it was removed from thence to the presence Chamber, where it re­mained all that night untill the next day, being Saturday at three a clock in the afternoone, at which time his crowne and cap of state were set upon a cushion at the head of the Coffin; after which the Heralds marching before the same, the Coffin was removed by the Gen­tlemen of his Privy Chamber unto the great Chamber, where his Guard atten­ded, in which it was set downe for the space of a quarter of an houre; thereaf­ter being lifted againe by the foresaid Gentlemen, it was brought downe staires towards the Chappell, where againe for a pretty while it was set downe in the Court; where being lifted againe, the Gentlemen of his Majesties Chappell singing mournefull ditties before them, it was brought into the Chappell and there placed under a Ca­nopy set with great Armes of the union at full, chained with divers other Scut­cheons [Page 85] and severall Armes, there to re­maine untill the Funerall day; This Sunday at night before the Funerall, his representation was brought (made in so short warning, as like him as could be) and apparelled with cloathes, having his creation robes above the same, his cap and crowne upon his head, his Gar­ter, Coller, with a George about his neck, his golden staffe in his Right hand lying crosse a little; briefely, every thing as hee was apparelled at the time of his creation; which being done, it was laid on the back on the Coffin, and fast bound to the same, the head thereof be­ing supported by two cushions, just as it was to bee drawne along the streets in the Funerall chariot, drawne by eight black horses, decked with his se­verall Scutcheons and Plumes.

But now the time being come, and all things to adorne the Triumphes of his mournefull Hadadrimons black day, the Funerall being foure houres in mar­shalling and marching, set forth about tenne a clock in the morning, there be­ing [Page 86] (as was thought) the number of 2000. Mourners in black; the Relation whereof were now to no purpose; since the or­der, rankes, and names are already prin­ted in a booke to be seene; As it passed along, the whole World, sensible and insensible things, and creatures seemed to mourne, and have compassion, hea­ven and earth and all; There was to bee seene an innumerable multitude of all sorts of ages and degrees of men, women, and children, whose wonderfull sorrow who is able to expresse? some holding in their heads, not being able to endure so sorrowfull a sight, all mourning, which they expressed by severall sorts of lamentation and sorrow, some wee­ping, crying, howling, wringing of their hands, others halfe dead, sounding, sighing inwardly, others holding up their hands, passionately bewayling so great a losse, with Rivers, nay with an Ocean of teares: Well, on they came at last to Westminster Abbey the buriall place, where, after the dolefull musick of all sorts being ended, the Coffin was set under a great stately Herse built [Page 87] Quadrangle wise with eight Pillars, shew­ing three to the view on each side foure square, Cannopy like, rising small on the top, trimmed and set thick within and without with divers Scutchions, small flagges, and pensels of his High­nesse severall Armes of the Vnion chai­ned, Scotland, Wales, Cornewall, Chester, Rothsay, Carrick, &c. mingled heere and there with his Highnesse Motto, Fax mentis honestae Gloria, and that of the Fu­nerall Herse, Juvat ireper Altum. After which the whole Assembly having taken their places, banners, bannarets, and pensils of all sorts being at rest, after an universall silence, the Arch­bishop of Canterbury (who was appoin­ted to doe his Highnesse the last duty) was seene in the Pulpit, who with a grave sober countenance, shewing the inward sorrow of his heart, after a little pause and prayer, did with exceeding passion make the Funerall Sermon; Of which though you write that you are marvailous desirous to heare the rela­tion, yet I am loath to say any thing, fearing to wrong so grave and great a [Page 88] Person; Neverthelesse, since I have ad­ventured thus farre (I hope without of­fence) I shall heere (as neere as I can remember) rehearse a word or two thereof, whereby you may judge of the rest.

The Text was out of the 82. Psalme the sixt and seventh Verses: I have said yee are Gods, and yee are Children of the most high: But yee shall die as a Man, and yee Princes shall fall like others. Where after hee had most learnedly by way of introduction spoken of the Authour, oc­casion, scope, and meaning of this Psalme, he devided the same into two maine bran­ches. First, the Exaltation of Princes; I have said yee are Gods, &c. Secondly, in what respect they are so called: A­gain, in the humiliation, least they should bee out of measure exalted, he admira­bly proved by infinite variety of exam­ples, both divine and morall, the vanity and inconstancy of greatnesse, with all the shadowish toyes thereof; Thirdly, for ocular proofe and use of all, inviting their eyes to the present dolefull specta­cle of their late ever renowned Prince, [Page 89] who, not long agoe, was as fresh, brave, and gallant as the best of them, unto whom all the delights and pleasures of the World did begge for acquaintance, lacking nothing which heart could wish for, who yet now for our sinnes lay thus low, bereaved of life and all being, forced to prove the truth of this Text, not onely to fall, but to fall as o­thers.

After which, when hee had most truly and excellently shewed a part of his Highnesse Excellencies, and many Noble vertues (for all was not possible) chiefely his rare and singular piety both in himselfe, and in the governement of his Houshould, which hee so extolled, that hee professed hee would not bee ashamed hereafter to propose the same for a rule unto himselfe. For conso­lation unto them all, hee shewed the ex­ceeding measure of felicity, his High­nesse had attained unto by death, and that now in respect of himselfe hee was not to be pittied, being compared with those, who had out lived him, the same [Page 90] one brave ship lying amongst a num­ber of others, all tending towards one Haven, whither at length they must needs all come, or ship-broken perish by the way, which setting forth betimes, as it were, new, fresh, and strong, with a faire gale of wind, arriveth quickly with­out any danger at the Haven of safety; whereas the rest loytering a long time by these, and these Inticements, set forth at last in a more dangerous season, some overladen, some missing of their way, some with leakes, some wracked, some starved, some drowned, all exceedingly tempest-beaten, with much adoe reco­uering their desired Haven: Even so, hee said, his late Highnesse had gotten the like advantage of all those that had out­lived him; all which laded with infinite more sinnes, indangering their safe pas­sage, must either perish by the way, or storme beaten, arive with much toyle, whither hee betimes with ease attained. So with exhortation unto all, to make right use thereof, with exceeding great passion and many teares, hee ended.

[Page 91] This very day also the two Universi­ties, Oxford and Cambridge, did solemnize this blacke day, with all the signes of sorrow which could be imagined, ha­ving in their two Universitie Churches, Funerall Sermons, all mourning, both in heart, habite, and countenance; the fore-runners of which their extreame sorrow, long before this, in their severall Bookes of mourning Epitaphs burst forth, Oxford in her Iusta Oxon: and Cambridge in her Epicedium Cantabrig: &c. with divers other Orations to this purpose. The Funerall Sermon in Saint Maries Oxon: was Preached by Doctor Goodwin Deane of Christ-Church Colledge there; The Text being out of Esay, the 57. 1. The Righteous perisheth, and no man conside­reth in his heart; and mercifull men are taken away from the evill to come.

In which he was not onely exceeding­ly moved himselfe, but also moved the whole Universitie, and City, to shedde fountaines of teares.

The other of Cambridge was Preached [Page 92] by Doctor Carey, Master of Christs Col­ledge, and Vicechancellour of the Uni­versitie, his Text being out of the second of Samuel, Chap. 3. verse 34. the last words of the Verse: And all the people wept againe for him. In speaking whereof, and weeping himselfe, hee made all the people weepe againe and againe.

The Archbishops Sermon (as afore­said) being ended, the Earles, Lords, and Barons, &c. by this time having offered up their severall Banners, and Honours which they carryed; as also the great Officers of his House, Sir Thomas Chal­lenor Chamberlaine, Sir Charles Cornwallis Treasurer, Sir John Hollis Comptrou­ler, together with his three Gentlemen-Ushers, Walter Alexander, Anthony Abing­ton, and Iohn Lumley, having all by de­grees (Sir Thomas Challenor beginning) broken their White staves and Rods crosse-wise over the Coffin, thereby re­signing their places, the Assembly dis­solved, the Coffin with the representa­tion (as is before said) remaining still un­der the Hearse, to be seene of all, untill [Page 93] the 19. of the said Moneth of December, when decked and trimmed with cloathes, as he went when hee was alive, Robes, Coller, Crowne, Golden Rodde in his hand, &c. it was set up in a Chamber of the said Chappell at Westminster, a­mongst the Representations of the Kings and Queenes, his famous Predecessors, where it remaineth for ever to be seene.

He was of a comely tall middle sta­ture, about five foot and eight inches high, of a strong, streight well-made body (as if Nature in him had shewed all her cunning) with somewhat broad shoulders, and a small waste, of an ami­able Majesticke Countenance, his haire of an Aborne collour, long faced, and broad forehead, a piercing grave eye, a most gracious smile, with a terrible frowne, courteous, loving, and affable; his favour like the Sunne, indifferently seeming to shine upon all; naturally shamefaced, and modest, most patient, which he shewed both in life and death; slow to anger, that even then, when hee was many times most offended, he would [Page 94] (overcomming himselfe) say nothing; mercifull he was after he had a little pu­nished the offendors; neither did hee judge rashly, but after due examination of both parties; Dissimulation he estee­med most base, chiefly in a Prince, not willing, nor by nature being able to flat­ter, fawne, or use those kindly who de­served not his love. Quicke hee was to conceive any thing, not rash, but mature in deliberation, yet most constant having resolved: true of his promise, most se­cret even from his youth; so that hee might have beene trusted in any thing that did not force a discovery: being of a close disposition, not easie to be known, or pried into: of a fearelesse, noble, He­roicke, and undanted courage, thinking nothing unpossible, that ever was done by any: a few faire words prevailed more with him, then all the threats of the world: very pittifull and tender­hearted unto any in misery, whom upon Petition, he ever some way releeved.

Most ardent in his love to Religion, which love, and all the good causes there­of [Page 95] of, his heart was bent by some meanes or other (if he had lived) to have shew­ed, and some way to have compounded the unkind Iarres thereof; He well shew­ed his love to good men, and hatred of the evill, in discerning a good Preacher from a vaine-glorious, in whom above al things he abhorred flattery, loving and countenancing the good; of the idle and loytering never speaking but with dis­daine; in which he shewed he had a heart flexible to good, and al kind of goodnes, which (as I thinke) was the cause one day, he uttered this speech of the Deane of Rochester his Chaplaine.

That he thought, whereas hee and o­thers like him, at their first entry into the Pulpit, did looke him in the face, their countenance did, as it were say unto him: Sir, you must heare me diligently; you must have a care to observe what I say: As also in his constancie in observing the Prayer time, duely before Dinner and Supper, which untill his death hee never willingly omitted, whatsoever haste hee had, or were it never so late.

[Page 96] What should I yet adde, his consci­ence of an Oath, that hee was never heard (I now appeale to Envy it selfe) to take Gods Name in vaine, with an addition of any other seeming light, much lesse horrible Oathes, with full swinge of passion; witnesse the testi­mony of the Most Reverend, the Arch­bishop of Canterbury, in his Funerall Ser­mon, wherein was remembred by him, (amongst many other things) that ever memorable reply of his Highnesse, who being asked one day (by one that great­ly rejoyced, his Highnesse was no swea­rer) why he did not sweare in play aswell as others; to his eternall praise made this reply, That he knew no Game worthy of an Oath.

To live long he never desired, nor aspi­red, many times saying, That it was to small purpose for a brave gallant man, when the prime of his dayes were past, to live so long untill he were full of aches, soares, &c. uttering contemptible spee­ches of Death; affirming many times, that hee neither desired, nor aspired, or [Page 97] hoped to live long, and that when hee should be sicke three or foure daies toge­ther, then God have mercy on me, would he say.

Popery with all the adjuncts and ad­herents thereof, hee hated to the death, yet he would now and then use particu­lar Papists very kindly, shewing that hee hated not their persons, but their opini­ons.

I must not forget his love to Learning, to the Muses, to all the Learned who any way did excell; to the two Universities, chiefly Oxenford (because mourning Cam­bridge did never injoy his presence) whose unspeakeale sorrow for his death, will shew the great portion of his love they in­joyed. I should but increase sorrow, to tel you how exceeding kindly their Vice­chancellour, Doctors, Graduates, and Students were used, when they came to see him at Woodstock; What care he had to give them contentment, how carefull he was, and what speciall commands were generally given throughout the whole [Page 98] house, that they should not want the same; of his mild and grave carriage to­wards them, and his loving speeches in their absence.

No lesse carefull hee was to obey the King his Father in every thing, be­ing also very diligent to observe and honour the Queene his Mother, so much as in him lay, or as possible hee might; wise hee was to know and not know, see and not see, almost every thing which was done or said. Wonderfull was his care and wisedome in governing of his house, and revenewes, giving order and seeing every thing done almost himselfe, so that scarce were there any of his Hous­hold Servants whom hee did not know by name, amongst whom there was not one knowne or suspected Papist; his care being so great, that all Commu­nicantes names should bee written up, that hee might know if there were any, that would not receive.

So that I may most truly affirme, that since the beginning of Princes no [Page 99] house did ever exceede him in all things; His Revenewes hee left increased by thousands a yeare; Sparing hee was, yet liberall where either honesty, desert, or poverty did move him; neither (what­soever the World thinke) was hee ever knowne to give away any thing, or pro­mise any thing but upon mature deli­beration; As for those pensious which hee gave a little before his death, they were either given to such as had very well deserved them, or who having spent their meanes in his service, hee could not out of his Noble disposition but relieve, thinking it better to doe so, then bestow upon them other unknowne suites and leases, which otherwise hee must needs have done; Hee was loving and kind to Strangers, whose hearts upon small ac­quaintance hee did easily gaine. In state matters and petitions not pertaining unto him, hee was ever sparing and not wil­ling to meddle: In his owne affaires touching coppy-holds, leases, or any thing of like nature, whatsoever abuses were, hee ever redressed, or minded to helpe, upon petition of the party aggree­ved.

[Page 100] Friday being the day wherein hee died (I know not by what naturall incli­nation, or motion) hee did not of a long time before his death love, misliking it above all the dayes of the weeke, upon which hee would not willingly use any kind of exercise, or ride any journey, sometimes not so much as play at cards thereon, alleaging that hee continually found some indisposition upon that day, and that hee never had good luck upon a Friday, such an ominous conceit of the dismalnesse of this day having possessed him, which at length proved to bee the period of his dayes.

He loved and did mightily strive to doe somewhat of every thing, and to excell in the most excellent; Hee greatly delighted in all kind of rare inventions and arts, and in all kind of Engines be­longing to the Warres, both by Sea and Land: In the bravery and number of great horses; in shooting and levelling of great peeces of Ordnance; in the orde­ring and marshalling of Armes; in buil­ding and gardening, and in all sorts of [Page 101] rare musique, chiefely the trumpet and drumme; in limming and painting, car­ving, in all sorts of excellent and rare Pictures, which hee had brought unto him from all Countries.

What should I say more of him? over and above all these things, hee had a cer­taine kind of extraordinary unspeakeable excellency, my fraile penne and dull stile not being able to expresse the same, gathered (out of question) by him long agoe from the plentifull Garden of the King his Fathers all admired Bazilicon­dor [...]n, long since in his youth dedicated unto him.

I dare sweare, none will thinke an ill thought, much lesse speake an ill word of him, unlesse it bee some Ianus-faced Machivillian, or hollow hearted Gun­powderers, who as they would have blowne up King, Progeny, and State, cannot choose now but barke against him, who was a terrour to all the Papists in Christendome.

[Page 102] As hee was a Man, no question but hee had imperfectious as others (other­wise hee could not have conversed with men) which I professe, I neither knew, nor delighted to search after; or if I had, you know of all others, I am rather boud to cover and conceale the same with Shem and Japhet, then with Ham to shew his nakednesse; If I were able, yet certainely whatsoever they were, such a number of noble vertues did cover and weigh downe the same, eclipsing their light, that they could not easily bee perceived, unlesse it were perhaps by some maliciously bent, who though they might have gathered great store of honey, have rather chosen (like droanes) to open the gall; whom I also leave to the gall of bitternesse untill it consume them.

Wherefore now since his Soule re­steth in Heaven (whereof I intreat you doubt not) let us also leave him; For his good life in generall, his unfaig­ned love to Religion, his love to good men, his sound, and saving knowledge, [Page 103] and practice of the same, his attentive and reverent hearing of the word, his humble flexible heart easily cast downe, and drawne by the same, with many other good things, which were in him, are sure signes of the favour of God, and consequently of his salvation. To which if wee consider with what innu­merable prayers, and strong cries, his soule was attended unto Heaven, wee may rest fully satisfied of his felicity; For although the extremity of paine from the beginning of his sicknesse, did as it were stupifie and bereave him of sence, that hee could not give those wished testimonies to the World at full; (the Lord choosing to try him in the furnace of affliction) yet since wee shall bee judged not according to our death, but according to our life (although his death in such an extremity, as is shew­ed, was very good, wee may certaine­ly conclude, that his Soule now praiseth God.

Wherefore when we misse him where we were wont to see him, let us lift up [Page 104] our mindes to a higher Watch-tower, re­membring that his Soule now resteth in Heaven, where all cares, troubles, soares, sickenesses, crosses, and afflictions, shall no more annoy him; where the feares, jarres, jealousies, discontentments, mute­nies, uproares, & dissentions of State shall never vex him; where he shall hunger no more, thirst no more, desire no more, ha­ving all tears wiped from his eies, in place of those fraile ones, which could not here indure the sight of the Candle, now be­holding him whose eyes are tenne thou­sand times brighter then the Sunne, fol­lowing the Lambe whithersoever hee goeth, and in the Heaven of Heavens, injoying the blessed fruition of his God, in the company of Millions of his Saints and Angels, waiting for the full revela­tion and felicitie of the Sonnes of God, and renovation of us all, when God shal be All in All; where let us leave him (of whom we are not worthy untill we be gathered unto him) admiring his in­comprehensible Wisdome which did be­reave us, untill he let us know by experi­ence, how hee will bring light out of [Page 105] darkenesse: For since he is goodnesse it selfe, his will (whatsoever it be) must needs be good; And I pray you, what, how many, how great, and how wonder­full things hath the Almighty done with this one blow, in humbling of some, cur­bing the pride of others, casting some downe, and againe in raising up of others; letting all see, as in a Mirrour, the vaine inconstancie of Greatnesse, making some others inexcusable, if they receive no good from so sensible a Lesson, with infi­nite moe, knowne onely to the All-suffi­cient, All-seeing Majestie.

Let us therefore admire the infinite and incomprehensible Wisdome of Almigh­ty God, which so soone translated him from this Vale of darknesse, and misery, into that marvellous joy and light, al­thogh it seem strange unto our blind eies: For what know we but that the boyling head-strong passions of youth, evill com­pany (which corrupteth good manners) the raines of Liberty, the corruption of time, with infinite other inticements, whereunto flesh and blood are prone, [Page 106] might have corrupted him, when dying with a consumed body, and a more cor­rupted Soule, he might with an evil Con­science (though ful of years) have gone to the grave, with farre more hatred, loa­den with innumerable more sinnes, then now he did; when by the contrary, with the love, prayers, and teares of all, hee was attended unto Heaven.

Thus have I beene bold to trouble you, and out of my love (for satisfying your curiosity) to exceede the bounds of a short Letter; which if you mildly Cen­sure, with an impartiall judgement, par­doning and excusing what you finde a­misse, you shall encourage me ever to remaine, as still I am