VPon the Twenty fourth of March, 1602. did set the most glorious Sun that ever shined in our Firmament of England (the never to be forgotten Queen Elizabeth, Q. E. death▪ of happy memory) about three in the morning, at her Mannour of Richmond; not only to the unspeakable griefe of her Servants in particular, but of all her Subjects in generall.

And although many of her Courtiers adored that rising Sun appearing in the North, yet since, not without regret of their monstrous ingratitude to her (that Sun) now set, and in peace:

For no sooner was that Sun set▪ but Sir Robert Carew (Her neare Kinsman, and whose Family, and himself, she had raised from the degree of a meane Gentleman, to high Honour, in title and place) most ingratefully did catch at Her last breath, to carry it to the rising Sun then in Scotland, notwithstanding a strict Charge laid to keep fast all the Gates, yet (his Father being Lord Chamberlaine) he by that meanes found favour to get out, to carry the first newes; which although it obtained for him the Governourship of the Duke of York, yet hath set so wide a mark of ingratitude on him, that it will remaine to Posterity a greater blot, then the honour hee obtained afterward will ever wipe out.

About nine in the morning of that day, was proclaimed King Iames of blessed memory,K. Iames proclaimed King. by the name of James the first; and now nothing on all hands, but preparations for accommodating him in his journey for England, many posting into Scotland for preferment, either by indearing themselves by some merit of their owne to the King, or by purchasing friends with their purses (Gold and Silver being a precious commodity in that Climate, and would procure any thing) and did procure Suits, Honours, and Offices to any that first came; of all which the King afterward extended his bounty in so large and ample a manner, as procured his owne impoverishment, to the pressure of his Subjects, so farre as set some distance between him and them, which his wisdome, and King-craft, could easily at all times reconcile.

The first that came from the King to the Lords in England, to give order for all things necessary for the expediting his journey toward England, was Sir Roger Aston an English-man borne,Sir Roger Aston K. James his Barber. but had his breeding wholly in Scotland, and had served the King many yeares as his Barber, an honest and free-hearted man, and of an ancient Family in Cheshire, but of no breeding answerable to his birth; yet he was the only man ever employed, as a Messenger from the King to Queen Elizabeth, as a Letter carrier only, which expressed their owne intentions without any helpe from him (besides the delivery) but even in that capacity was in very good esteeme with her Majesty, and received very royall rewards, which did inrich him, and gave him a better Revenue then most Gentlemen in Scotland; for the Queene did finde him as faithfull to Her as to his Master, in which he shewed much wisdome, though of no breeding. In this his employment I must not passe over one pretty passage, I have heard himselfe relate; That he did never come to deliver any Letters from his Master, but ever he was placed in the Lobby; the Hangings being turned him, where he might see the Queen dancing to a little Fiddle, which was to no other end, then that he should tell his Master, by her youthfull disposition, how likely he was to come to the possession of the Crowne hee so much thirsted after; for you must understand, the wisest in that Kingdome did beleeve the King should never injoy this Crowne, as long as there was an old Wife in England, which they did beleeve we ever set up, as the other was dead.

Sir Roger Aston presenting himselfe before the Councell; being but a plaine untutored man, being asked how he did, and courted by all the Lords, lighted upon this happy reply; Even my Lords, like a poore man, wandring above forty yeares in a Wildernesse, and barren Soyle, am now arrived at the Land of Promise.After made gentleman of the Bed-chamber, &c This man was afterward made Gentleman of the Bed-chamber, Master of the Wardrobe, and invested with such Honours, and Offices as he was capable of, and that inabled him to live in a noble way, during his life, and to leave his Daughters great Fortunes; but had you seene how the Lords did vye courtesies to this poore Gentleman, striving who should ingrosse that Commodity by the largest bounty; you could not but have condemned them of much basenesse (especially, seeing when at this time Offices, and great places of Honour will not be accepted from that Sonne) that the very Barber of whose Father was so much courted, but to speake a good word in their behalfes Surely the times are much altered.

And now all preparation was made to meet the King in York, that he might in that Northerne Metropolis appear like a King of England, and take that State on him there, which was not known in Scotland; There met him all the Lords of the Councell, and there did they all make Court to the Scotch-men that were most in favour with the King, and there did the Scotch Courtiers lay the first foundation of their English Fortunes; the chiefe of them was Sir George Hewme, Sir Georg • Hewme a kind of Favourit • a kinde of Favourite, but not such as after appeared with young Faces, and smooth Chins, but one that for his wisdome and gravity, had beene in some secret Councels with his Master, which created that dearnesse between them; and the chiefe of those secrets, was that of Gowries Conspiracy, though that Nation gave little credit to the Story, but would speak both sleightly and despitefully of it, and those of the wisest of that Nation; yet there was a weekly commemoration by the Tuesday Sermon, and an anniversary Feast, as great as it was possible, for the Kings preservation, ever on the fifth of August; upon which day as Sir John Ramsey after E. of Holdernesse, for his good service in that preservation, was the principall guest, so did the King grant him any Boone he would aske that day; but had such limitations set to his asking, as made his suit as unprofitable unto him, as that he asked it for, was unserviceable to the King, and indeed did make the English beleeve as little the truth of that story, as the Scots themselves did, and yet on my conscience the good Gentleman did in that as a Lyer often doth, by telling a Lye often, beleeveth it to be a very truth; but the truth was, (although he was not a man capable of much himselfe) yet had it been true; there was too little done for him, being▪ not true, too much; for, being an Earle, he was in very little esteeme, either with his Master, or with the better sort of Courtiers. And I pray God that the effects of those Sermons in the Fathers time for that service, cause no ill effects, or be not one cause of Gods anger towards us in the Sons reigne.

This Sir George Hewme being the only man that was the Guider of the King, and his affaires, all the wiser sort of English made their addresses unto him, amongst those Sir Robert Cicill, Sir Robert Cicill a favourite. a very wise man, but much hated in England, by reason of the fresh bleeding of that universally beloved Earle of Essex, and for that, was clouded also in the Kings favour; he came to Yorke, but lay close, unseen, or scarce knowne to be in the City, untill he knew what entertainment he should receive from the King; for he was in his owne, and all mens opinions, so under the Hatches, as not ever to appeare above board againe (nor did any of the Countre-faction to Essex besides himselfe, ever attaine to the Kings favour;) but those friends raised by his wit, and purse, did so co-operate (of which Sir Roger Aston, that plaine man was principall, for which he lost not his labour) that Sir George Hewme, and Sir Robert Cicill had many secret meetings, and did so comply, that Sir Robert Cicill, to the admiration of all, did appeare, and come out of his Chamber like a Giant, to run his race, for Honour, and Fortune, and who in such dearnesse, and privacy with the King as Sir Robert Cicill! as if he had been his faithfull Servant many yeares before; yet did not either his Friends, wit, or wealth, raise him so much (as some beleeve) as the ill offices done by him to this Nation, in discovering the nature of the people, and shewing the King the way, how to enhance his Prerogative so above the Lawes, that he might inslave the Nation, which though it took well then, yet it hath been of sad and dangerous consequence in after times:

For first, He caused a whole Cartload of Parliament Presidents (that spake the Subjects Liberty) to be burnt:

Next, raising two hundred thousand pound for making two hundred Baronets, telling the King he should finde his English Subjects like Asses, on whom he might lay any burthen, and should need neither Bit, nor Bridle, but their Asses eares; And when the King said, It would discontent the generality of the Gentry: He replyed, Tush Sir, you want the money, that will doe you good, the Honour will doe them very little; And by these courses he raised himselfe, friends, and family, to Offices, Honours, and great Possessions; Yet as a punishment, he lived long enough to have lost all, had not Death prevented him between the Bath and London: For the Duke of Bullion being then here, (about the overture of that unfortunate Match betweene the Palsgrave, and the Lady Elizabeth) had so done his errand, and discovered his juggling; It is most certaine, he had been stript of all at his returne, which he well understanding from his Friends at Court, did expedite his end; but he dyed opportunely to save his honour, and his estate for his posterity, though to leave a marke of ignominy on himselfe by that Herodian disease, and that for all his great Honours, and Possessions, and stately Houses, he found no place but the top of a Mole-hill, neare Marleborough to end his miserable life; so that it may be said of him, and truly, he dyed of a most loathsome disease, and remarkable, without house, without pitty, without the favour of that Master that had raised him to so high an estate; and yet must he have this right done him (which is also a note of the misfortune of our times) there hath not been any since his time that equalled him, to fulfill the Proverbe, Seldome comes a better; he had great parts, was very wise, full of honour, and bounty, a great lover and rewarder of Virtue, and able parts in others; so they did not appeare too high in place, or looke too narrowly into his actions.

The next that came on the publick Theatre in favour, was Henry Howard, a younger Son of the Duke of Norfolke, and Lord Thomas Howard, the one after Earle of Northampton▪ the other Earle of Suffolk, Lord Chamberlaine, and after Lord Treasurer, who by Salisburies greatnesse with that Family, rather then by any merit, or wisdome in themselves, raised many great Families of his Children: Northampton though a great Clerke, yet not a wise man, but the grossest Flatterer of the World; and as Salisbury by his Wit, so this by his Flattery, raised himselfe; yet one great motive to the raising all of that Name of Howards was, the Duke of Norfolke, suffering for the Queene of Scots, the Kings Mother, yet did Suffolke so farre get the start of Northampton, that Northampton never after loved him but from the teeth outwards, only had so much discretion as not to fall to actuall enmity, to the over-throw of both, and the weakning that faction; Suffolk also using him with all submissive respect, not for any love, but hope of gaining his great estate, and sharing it amongst his Children; but Northamptons distaste was such, by his losse of the Treasurers place, which he had with such assurance promised to himselfe in his thoughts, that except what he gave to Master Henry Howard, the rest he gave to the Earl of Arundell, who by his observance, but more especially by giving Northampton all his Estate if he never returned from travell, had wrought himselfe so far into his affections, that he doted on him.

And now the principall managers of the English affaires were Salisbury, Suffolke, Northampton, Buckhurst, Egerton Lord Keeper, Worcester, and the Old Admirall; For the Scots, Sir George Hewme, now Earle of Dunbar, Secretary Elfeston, after Earle of Balmerino, and as wise a man as was in England, or Scotland, the Lord of Kinlosse, a very honest, but weak man.

You are now to observe, that Salisbury had shaken off all that were great with him, and of his Faction in Queene Elizabeths dayes, as Sir Walter Rawleigh, Sir George Carew, the Lord Grey, the Lord Cobham: the three first, very able men as the world had, the last, but one degree from a foole, yet served their turnes better then a wiser man, by his greatnesse with the Queen, for they would put him on any thing, and make him tell any Lye, with as great confidence as a truth. Three of these were utterly ruined, as you shall heare in the following Discourse, the fourth being a very wise man, contented himselfe with a meane place, that was worthy of a much greater; and although very active formerly, called to minde this saying: Foelix quem faciunt, &c. and medled with no State businesse, his wisdome fore-telling his Fate, if he had done otherwise; for he did see one better head-peece then his owne, sit tottering at that time, and fell off afterwards, which made him think it was good sleeping in a whole skin.

The King no sooner came to London, but notice was taken of a rising Favourite, the first Meteor of that nature appearing in our climate; as the King cast his eye upon him for affection, so did all the Courtiers,Mr. Iames Hay a Favourite. to adore him, his name was Mr. James Hay, a Gentleman that lived long in France, and some say, of the Scottish Guard to that King; this Gentleman comming over to meet the King, and share with him in his new Conquest (according to the Scots phrase) it should seeme had some former acquaintance with the then Leiger Embassadour in Scotland for the French King,His rise. who comming with his Majesty into England, presented this Gentleman (as a well accomplished Gentleman) to the King, in such an high commendation as engendered a liking that produced a favourite; in thankfull acknowledgement whereof, he did him many faire offices for the present, and comming afterwards an extraordinary Embassadour to our King, made him the most sumptuous Feast at Essex house,His sumptuous feast. that ever was seene before, never equalled since, in which was such plenty (and Fish of that immensity, brought out of Muscovia, that Dishes were made to containe them (no Dishes in all England before could neare hold them) and after that, a costly Voydee, and after that, a Maske of choyse Noble-men; and Gentlemen, and after that, a most costly and magnificent Banquet, the King, Lords, and all the prime Gentlemen then about London being invited thither. Truly, he was a most compleat,His accomplishment. aud well accomplished Gentleman, modest, and Courtlike, and of so faire a demeanour, as made him be generally beloved; and for his wisdome, I shall give you but one character for all: Hee was ever great with all the Favourites of his time, and although the King did often change, yet he was semper idem with the King, and Favourites, and got by both; for although Favourites had that exorbitant power over the King, to make him grace, and disgrace whom they pleased; yet he was out of their power, and the only exception to that generall rule; and for his gettings, it was more then almost all the Favourites of his time, which appeared in those vast expences of all sorts, and had not the bounty of his minde exceeded his gettings, he might have left the greatest estate that ever our age or climate had heard of; he was indeed made for a Courtier, who wholly studied his Master, and understood him better then any other.

He was imployed in very many of the most weighty Affaires, and sent with the most stately Embassies of our times, which he performed with that wisdome, and magnificence, that he seemed an honour to his King and Country. For his carriage in State-affaires, he was termed by some Princes the Kings Juggler. He married the Daughter and Heire of the Lord Denny, after the Earl of Northumberlands daughter, and was hated of none that ever I heard of, but the Earle of Northampton, who had no patience to see him, being himselfe of so venemous and cankred a disposition, that indeed he hated all men of noble parts, nor loved any but Flatterers like himselfe; yet it was a great question, whether he hated the Earl of Carlisle, or Sir Robert Mansell most, by whom he hath been heard to say; Body of God, I will be content to be damned perpetually in Hell, to be revenged of that proud Welshman; and did so hate him, that he kept an Inquisition on him seven yeares, to prove that he had cousened the King of fourteen thousand pounds, which at the seven yeares end at an hearing before the King, the Lords, the Queen, and all the Ladies being present, with all the gallantry of the Court, ended in one paire of silke Stockins, given by one for a New-yeares Gift to Master Wels, Sir Robert Mansells Servant; at which, the King stood up and sware very deeply; Doe you beleeve I will take a paire of silke Stockins for my fourteen thousand pounds? give me that, give me that; is this all the fruit of seven yeares Commission? at which words Sir Robert Mansell kneeled downe, and said, I will now Sir take all the faults they can charge my servant with, upon my selfe; at which the King was very angry, that so noble a Gentleman, who had so wel acquitted himselfe, and Honour, should intrust it in the keeping of a Servant; at the end of all, the Earle of Salisbury kneeled down, and said; Sir, if you will suffer malice so farre to prevaile, as to have your honest Servants traduced, to satisfie the humours of any, I beseech you take my staffe, for were my selfe, and the Earl of Worcester here present, put in the ballance against Sir Robert Mansell, we should prove too light; I am in a great Place, and cannot say, but by my selfe, or servants, I may faile, yet not with our own wils; therefore Sir, if you wil suffer such inquisitions, there will be no serving your Majesty, in such places as I hold, by your Majesties favour; thus ended the Earle of Northamptons malice, which only served to honour Sir Robert Mansell, and make a scorne of himselfe, and this only to make the venome of this Monster appear, who did flatter the King, and dissemble with God.

And now begin Embassadours to appeare from divers Princes, the principall were, Roney Duke of Sullice, from the French King; the Constable of Castile from the Spanish King, the Count Arremberg from the Arch Duke; the former came to congratulate only, and desired the confirmation of the ancient amity betwixt the two Crownes; the latter two about the establishing a firme peace betwixt these two Kingdomes, that had lived in perpetuall Warre, and hatred of each other, by which it might appeare where the advantage of such a peace would fall, by those that sought, or rather bought it with an infinite masse of treasure, prodigally cast about the English Court.

To bring these Embassadours over, were appointed Sir Robert Mansell, being Admirall of the narrow Seas, and Sir Jerome Turner his Vice-Admirall, the first commanded to attend at Graveling for the Spanish Embassadour, the latter at Calis for the French; but the French comming first, and hearing the Vice-Admirall was to attend him, the Admirall the other; in a scorne put himselfe in a Passage-boat of Calis, came forth with flagge in top; instantly Sir Jerome Turner sent to know of the Admirall what he should doe; Sir Robert Mansell sent him word, to shoot, and sinke him, if he would not take in the flag; this as it made the flag bee pulled in, so a great complaint, and 'twas beleeved it would have undone Sir Robert Mansell, the French Faction pressing it so home: but he maintained the act, and was the better beloved of his Master ever after, to his dying day.

This makes it appeare how jealous old Commanders were of their owne honour, and of their Masters, and Kingdomes honours, which since hath been so prodigally wasted, as we are utterly bankerupt, having spent our old Stock, and have not bravery enough to erect a new.

The Constable of Castile so plyed his Masters businesse (in which he spared for no cost) that he procured a peace so advantageous for Spaine, and so disadvantageous for England, that it and all Christendome have since both seen and felt the lamentable effects thereof. There was not one Courtier of note, that tasted not of Spaines bounty, either in Gold, or Jewels and among them, not any in so large a proportion as the Countesse of Suffolke, who shared in her Lords interest, being then a potent man, and in that interest which she had, in being Mistris to that little great Secretary (little in body and stature, but great in wit and policy) the sole manager of State affaires; so it may be said, she was a double sharer, and in truth Audley-end, that famous and great structure, had its foundation of Spanish Gold.

The King was a peaceable and merciful Prince; yet God (for some secret intent best known to himself) laid the foundation of his reigne, with the greatest mortality ever before heard of in this Kingdome, by a fearefull Plague,A great Plague. and some by that judged what his future reign would be, yet their wisdomes failed, for he was a King of mercy as well as peace, never cruell, yet surely it had some morall.

He was forced by that contagion to leave the Metropolis, and goe into a by corner in Wiltshire, Wilton the Earle of Pembrookes House, in which time of his abode there, a kinde of Treason brake forth, but what it was, as no man could then tell, so it is left with so dark a Comment, that posterity will never understand the Text, or remember any such treason; it is true, some lost their lives, yet the world was never satisfied of the justice, and one of them, (and that the only marke of Tyranny upon this good Kings reigne) executed many yeares after without all president, and on my conscience without any just cause, and even against that good Kings will, who in many things was over-awed by his timorous disposition.

But the Spanish Faction, and Spanish Gold betrayed his life, as they had done the Kingdome before, and I beleeve it was one of the greatest Master-peeces of that Embassadour, to purchase Rawleighs head, yet had not Bristol co-operated, the King would never have consented, and it may be he had his secret ends, fearing his wisdome might once againe have raised him, to have looked over Sherborne Castle, once his owne, and how unjustly taken from him God will one day judge; I know not whether there be a curse on those that are owners of it, as Fables report, but I am confident there is a curse on Bristol for taking away his life; I will not take upon me too farre to pry into Gods Arke, yet what is like to befall him, and hath already, his Son (as hopefull a Gentleman as any in the Kingdome) may give some token of Gods anger against him and his family.

But because I will not leave you altogether blinde-folded,A narration of the Treason charged on Rawleigh. I shall as neare as I can lead you to the discovery of this Treason, which consisted of Protestants, Puritans, Papists, and of an Atheist: a strange medley you will say, to meet in one and the same Treason, and keepe counsell, which surely they did, because they knew not of any; the Protestants were the Lord Cobham, and George Brook his Brother, the one very learned and wise, the other a most silly Lord, the Puritan the Lord Grey of VVilton, a very hopefull Gentleman, blasted in the very Bud; the Papists VVatson, and Clarke, Priests; and Parham a Gentleman, the Atheist Sir Walter Rawleigh, then generally so beleeved, though after brought by affliction (the best School-Mistris) to be, and so dyed, a most religious Gentleman. This Treason was compounded of strange ingredients (and more strange then true) it was very true, most of these were discontented, to see Salisbury their old friend so high, to trample on them, that before had been his chiefe supporters, and (being ever of his faction) now neglected and contemned: it was then beleeved an errand trick of State to over-throw some, and disable others, knowing their strong abilities might otherwise live to over-throw Salisbury, for they were intimate in all his secret Councels for the ruine of Essex, especially Rawleigh, Grey, and Cobham; though the latter was a foole, yet had been very usefull to them (as the Toole in the hand of the Workman) and to have singled out these without some Priests, which were Traytors by the Law, had smelt too ranke, and appeared too poore and plaine a tricke of State; and Salisbury in this had a double benefit: First, in ridding himselfe of such as he feared would have been thornes in his sides. Secondly, by endearing himselfe to the King, by shewing his diligence, and vigilancy for his safety; so that it might be said of him as of Caesar in another case (Inveniam aut saciam) I will either finde out a Treason or make one, and this had been a pretty trick had it been only to disgrace, without taking away life; but how this peece of policy may stand with Religion, I feare by this time he too well understands; and this plot as neare as I can tell you (and I dare say my intelligence gave me as neare a guesse as ever any man had) was, that all these in a discontented humour had by Watson, and Clarke, being Confessors, dealt with Count Aremberge, the Arch Dukes Embassadour, to negotiate with the Arch Duke to raise an Army, and invade England, and they would raise another of Papists, and Male-contents to joyne: for you must understand the King was beleeved an errand Puritan, (Cujus contrarium verum est) how likely this Plot was, let the world judge, that the King of Spaine, who had bought peace at so deare a rate, and found it so advantageous to him, by the lamentable experience he had formerly in the Wars with this formidable State, should seek to breake it so soone: and had it been a reall Treason, the State had been bound to have rewarded these Traytors, as the best peece of service done in England all that Kings reigne (it was indeed those that made the Peace, not those that endeavoured the breaking of it, were the Traytors, and are to be cursed by all Posterity) yet this foolish Plot served well enough to take some blocks out of the way, that might afterward have made some of them stumble, to the breaking of their owne necks.

They were all Arraigned of Treason at Winchester, whither the King having sent some secretly to observe all passages, upon whose true and faithfull relations of the innocencies of the Persons Arraigned, and the sleight proofes, upon which they were condemned: he would not be drawne to signe any Warrant for the execution of Rawleigh, Cobham, and Grey, very hardly for any of the rest, the two Priests excepted.

For Rawleighs defence, it was so brave and just, as (had he not wilfully cast himselfe, out of very wearinesse, as unwilling to detaine the company longer) no Jury could ever have cast him; all the Evidence brought against him was Cobhams Accusation, which he only desired might appeare (viva voce) and he would yeeld without further defence, but that they knew ful well Cobham would not, nor could not accuse him, having been tampered with by Wade, then Lieutenant of the Tower, and Salisburies great Creature; Wade desired it under his hand, that also he refused, at last Wade got a trick by his cunning, to surprize Cobhams weaknesse, to get him write his name to a Blank, to which, Wade, no question, wrote the accusation, as will appeare hereafter; for Salisbury urging Rawleigh often, if Cobham had accused him under his hand, would he then yeeld? Rawleigh replyed, He knew Cobham weake of judgement, and did not know how that weaknesse might be wrought upon, but was confident he would not to his face accuse him, and therefore would not put his life, fortune, and all on that; at which fence he stood til nine at night: at last his fate carried him against his reason, and he yeelded upon the producing his hand, which was instantly pulled out, and was in truth his hand, but not his act, or deed: so at that present was George Brooke, Watson, and Clarke executed, Parham acquitted, and Sir Walter Rawleigh executed many yeares after for the same treason, as much against all justice, as beyond all reason, or any president: yea after he had been a Generall by the Kings Commission, and had by that, power of the Lives of many others, utterly against the Civill Law, which saith, He that hath power of the Lives of others, ought to be Master of his owne. But the Spaniard was so powerfull at that time in Court, as that Faction could command the life of any man that might prove dangerous to his designes; Grey and Cobham dyed in their restraint, the one much pittied, the other scorned, and his death as base, for hee dyed lousie for want of Apparrell, and Linnen; and had starved, had not a Trencher-scraper, sometime his Servant in Court, releived him with scraps, in whose house he dyed, being so poore a house as he was forced to creep up a Ladder into a little hole to his Chamber; which was a strange judgement, and unpresidented, that a man of seven thousand pounds per annum, and of a personall estate of thirty thousand pounds, of all which the King was so cheated of what should have Escheated to him, that he could not give him any maintenance, as in all cases the King doth, unlesse out of his owne Revenue of the Crown, which was the occasion of this Lords want, (his Wife being very rich, would not give him the crums that fell from her Table;) and this was a just judgement of God on him.

And now, because it will be pertinent in this place to let you understand, that Rawleigh had his life surrepticiously taken away, I shall give you a true story.

Queen Anne, that brave Princesse, was in a desperate (and some beleeved an incurable) Disease, whereof the Phisitians were at the furthest end of their studies to finde the cause, at a Non-plus for the Cure; Sir Walter Rawleigh, being by his long studies an admirable Chymist, undertooke, and performed the Cure, for which he would receive no other reward, but that her Majesty would procure that certaine Lords might be sent to examine Cobham, whether he had accused Sir Walter Rawleigh of Treason at any time under his hand; the King, at the Queens request (and in Justice could doe no lesse) sends six Lords, (which I take were, the Duke of Leonox, Salisbury, Worcester, Suffolke, Sir George Carew, and Sir Julius Caesar) to demand of Cobham, whether he had not under his hand accused Sir Walter Rawleigh at Winchester, upon that Treason he was Arraigned for; Cobham did protest, never, nor could he; but, said he, That Villaine Wade did often solicite me, and not prevailing that way, got me by a trick to write my name upon a peece of white Paper; which I, thinking nothing, did, so that if any Charge came under my hand, it was forged by that Villaine Wade, by writing something above my hand without my consent or knowledge. These six returning to the King, the rest made Salisbury their Spokes-man, who said, Sir, my Lord Cobham hath made good all that ever hee wrote, or said. Where it is to be noted, that this was but an equivocating tricke in Salisbury; for it was true, that Cobham had made good whatever hee had writ (that being but in truth to very nothing) but never wrote he any thing to accuse Rawleigh; by which you may see the basenesse of these Lords, the credulity of the King, and the ruine of Sir Walter Rawleigh. I appeale now to the judgement of all the world, whether these six Lords were not the immediate Murtherers of Sir Walter Rawleigh, and no question shall be called to a sad account for it.

And thus have you a true relation of the Treason, and Traytors, with all the windings and turnings in it, and all passages appertaining to it; and by it you may see the slavery these great men were inslaved in by Salisbury, that none durst testifie such a truth, as the not testifying, lost their most precious Soules.

And now doth the King returne to Windsor, where there was only an apparition of Southamptons being a Favourite to his Majesty, by that privacy and dearnesse was presented to the Court-view; but Salisbury (liking not that any of Essex his faction should come into play) made that apparition appeare as it were in transitu, and so vanished, by putting some jealousies into the Kings head, who was so farre from jealousie, that he did not much desire to be in his Queenes company, yet love and regality must admit of no partnership.

Then was there in requitall of the Spanish Embassadours, two stately Embassies addressed, the one to Spaine, the other to the Arch Duke, to have that peace they so dearly purchased confirmed, and sworne to by ours, as formerly by them; the old Lord Admirall was sent to Spaine, the Earle of Hartford for Bruxels, that the Duke of Leonox might have the better opportunity. The Spaniard was astonied at the bravenesse of our Embassie, and the handsome Gentlemen (in both which, few Embassies ever equalled this) for you must understand the Iesuites reported our Nation to be ugly, and like Devils, as a punishment sent to our Nation for casting off the Popes supremacy; and they pictured Sir Francis Drake generally halfe a Man, halfe a Dragon; When they beheld them after the shape of Angels, they could not well tell whether to trust their own eyes, or their Confessors reports, yet they then appeared to them, as to all the world, monstrous Lyers.

The Embassadour had his reception with as much state, as his entertainment with bounty, the King defraying all charges, and they were detained at their Landing longer then ordinary, to have provisions prepared in their passage to Madrid, with all the bounty was possible, to make the whole Country appeare a Land of Canaan, which was in truth, but a Wildernesse.

In their abode there, although they gave them Roast-meat, yet they beat them with the spits, by reporting that the English did steale all the Plate, when in truth it was themselves, who thought to make Hay while the Sunne shined, not thinking ever more to come to such a Feast, to fill their purses as wel as their bellyes▪ (for food and coyne are equally alike scarce with that Nation) this report passed for currant, to the infinite dishonour of our Nation, there being at that time the prime gallantry of our Nation.

Sir Robert Mansell, who was a man borne to vindicate the Honour of his Nation, as of his owne, being Vice-Admirall, and a man on whom the old Admirall wholly relyed, having dispatched the Ships to be gone the next morning, came in very late to Supper; Sir Richard Levison sitting at the upper end of the Table amongst the Grandees, the Admirall himselfe not supping that night, being upon the dispatch of Letters, the Table upon Sir Robert Mansells entrance offered to rise, to give him place: But he sat down instantly at the lower end, and would not let any man stirre, and falling to his meat, did espy a Spaniard, as the Dishes emptied, ever putting some in his bosome, some in his breeches, that they both strutted: Sir Robert Mansell sent a Message to the upper end of the table to Sir Richard Levison to be delivered in his eare, that whatsoever he saw him doe, he should desire the Gentlemen and Grandees to sit quiet, for there should be no cause of any disquiet; on the sudden, Sir Robert Mansell steps up, takes this Spaniard in his armes, (at which the table began to rise; Sir Richard Levison quiets them,) brings him up to the end amongst the Grandees, then pulls out the Plate from his bosome, breeches, and every part about him, which did so amaze the Spaniard, and vindicate that aspersion cast on our Nation, that never after was there any such syllable heard, but all honour done to the Nation, and all thanks to him in particular.

From thence, next day they went for Madrid, where all the royall entertainment Spain could yeeld was given them, and at the end of the Grand entertainment and Revells, which held most part of the night, as they were all returning to their Lodgings, the street being made light by white Wax lights, and the very night forced into a day, by shining light, as they were passing in the street, a Spaniard catcheth off Sir Robert Mansells Hat, with a very rich jewell in it, and away he flyes; Sir Robert not being of a spirit to have any thing violently taken from him, nor of such a Court-like complement, to part with a jewell of that price, to one no better acquainted with him, hurls open the Boote, followes after the fellow, and some three Gentlemen did follow him, to secure him, houseth the Fellow in the house of an Allagozy, which is a great Officer, or Judge in Spaine; this Officer wondering at the manner of their comming, the one without his hat and sword in his hand, the other with all their swords; Demands the cause, They tell him; He saith, surely none can think his house a sanctuary, who is to punish such offenders.

But Sir Robert Mansell would not be so put off with his Spanish gravity, but enters the House, leaving two at the Gate, to see that none should come out whiles he searched; A long while they could finde nothing, and the Allagozy urging this as an affront, at last, looking downe into a Wel of a smal depth, he saw the fellow stand up to the neck in Water: Sir Robert Mansell seized on his Hat, and Jewell, leaving the fellow to the Allagozy, but he had much rather have fingered the Jewell, aud in his gravity told Sir Robert Mansell, hee could not have it without forme of Law, which Sir Robert dispensed with, carrying away his Hat, and Jewell, and never heard further of the businesse; now the truth was, this fellow knew his Burrough well enough, as well as some Theeves of our Nation, after they have done a Robbery, would put themselves into a Prison of their acquaintance, assuring themselves none would search there, or rather as our Recorders of London, whose cheif revenue for themselves, and servants, is from Theeves, Whores, and Bawds, therefore this story cannot seeme strange in England.

The other Embassadour sent to the Arch Duke, was, the old Earle of Hertford, who was conveyed over in one of the Kings Ships, by Sir William Munson, in whose passage a Dutch Man of Warre comming by that ship, would not vaile, as the manner was, acknowledging by that, our Soveraignty over the Sea, Sir William Munson gave him a shot to instruct him in manners, but instead of learning, he taught him by returning another, he acknowledged no such Soveraignty; this was the very first indignity and affront ever offered to the Royall Ships of England, which since have beene most frequent; Sir William Monson desired my Lord of Hertford to goe into the Hold, and hee would instruct him by stripes, that refused to be taught by faire meanes; but the Earl charged him on his Allegiance first to land him, on whom he was appointed to attend; so to his great regret, he was forced to endure that indignity, for which I have often heard him wish he had been hanged, rather then live that unfortunate Commander of a Kings Ship, to be Chronicled for the first that ever endured that affront, although it was not in his power to have helped it; yet by his favour, it appeared but a copy of his countenance, for it had been but hazarding hanging to have disobeyed my Lords Commandement, and it had been infinite odds he had not beene hanged, having to friend him, the House of Suffolke; nor would hee have been so sensible of it, had he not been of the Spanish Faction, and that a Dutch ship.

Now did those great Mannagers of the State (of which Salisbury was chief) after they had packed the Cards begin to deale the government of the Kingdome amongst themselves, and perswaded the King to leave the State affaires to them, and to betake himselfe to some Country recreations, which they found him addicted unto, for the City, and businesse, did not agree with him; to that end purchased, built, and repaired at New-Market, and Royston, and this pleased the Kings humour well, rather that he might enjoy his Favourite with more privacy, then that he loved the sports; then must Theobolds be in his owne possession, as not fit for a King to be beholding to a Subject for an House of daily use, but because the King had so much want of monies (to expresse his love, and bounty to his Native Nation) Salisbury would exchange, and take Land for his House, and Parke; in which exchange, he made such an advantage, that he sold his House for fifty yeares purchase, and that so cunningly, as hardly to be discerned, but by a curious sight, for he fleeted off the Creame of the Kings Mannours in many Counties, not any two lying in any one County, and made choyce of the most in the remotest Counties, onely built his nest at Hatfield, within the County where his Father had built his, yet kept he still the house of Theobolds, for he and his posterity were to be perpetuall Keepers of that House, and many Parkes adjacent; by this he not onely shewed his wisdome for his owne benefit, but to the world what the Kings naturall disposition was, to bee easily abused, and would take counterfeit Coyn for currant payment.

And to fit the Kings humour, and dissolve him in that delight he was most addicted to, as well as to serve Salisburies owne ends, and satisfie his revenge upon some neighbour Gentlemen, that formerly would not sell him some convenient parcels of Land neighbouring on Theobalds, he puts the King on enlarging the Parke, walling, and storing it with red Deere; and I dare affirme, with that worke the King was so well pleased, and did more glory in, then his Predecessors did in the conquest of France; and as it was most true, so an ill Omen, that the King loved Beasts better then Men, and took more delight in them, and was more tender over the life of a Stag then of a Man; yet this was the weaknesse of his judgement, and poorenesse of his Spirit, rather then any innate cruelty, for he was not naturally cruel over lives, though in displacing Officers, which naturally he did beleeve, was as glorious, as to over-throw, and conquer Kings.

But yet for all their setting their Cards, and playing their Games to their owne advantages, of getting much for themselves, and friends, there was one Knave in the Packe, would crosse their designs, and Trump in their way, if he might not share with them in their winning; that was one Lake, a Clerke of the Signet, after, Secretary, and after that turned out in disgrace; and in truth, was onely wise in the worlds opinion, could swim being held up by the chin; but at his fall all his weaknesses were discovered: and that the world had been deceived in him, I will instance in one particular amongst many, that shall give you full assurance; being in disgrace, he gave two thousand pounds but to kisse the Kings hand, beleeving that after that, he might have accesse as formerly; after he had paid his money, he was never suffered to see the King more, only jeered at by all the Court for his folly, and went sneaking up and downe contemned of all men.

This Lake was a fellow of meane birth, and meaner breeding, being an under Servant to make Fires in Secretary Walsinghams chamber, and there got some experience, which afterwards in the Kings time made him appeare an able man, which in the Queenes time, when there was none in Court but men of eminencies, made him an inconsiderable Fellow. He had linked himselfe in with the Scotish Nation, progging for Suits, and helping them to fill their Purses; as they did beleeve, there was not so able a man in the Kingdome (for in truth ever since Queene Elizabeths death, the raysing money hath been the only way to raise men, as being held the essentiall property of a wise man, to know how to bring in money (per fas aut nefas) and amongst all the Scots, he wholly applyed himselfe to those of the Bed-chamber, and of nearest accesse to his Majesty.

For his good service of abusing his Country, and Country-men, he was made Clerke of the Signet, to waite on the King in his Hunting journies, and in these journies got all the Bils signed, even for the greatest Lords (all Packets being addressed to him) so that even Salisbury; and Northampton, and the greatest Lords made Court to him; by this meanes did he raise himselfe from a meane to a great fortune, but so over-awed by his VVife, that if hee did not what she commanded, she would beate him, and in truth his Wife was afterwards his over-throw; besides, he would tell Tales, and let the King know the passages of Court, and great men, as who was Salisburies Mistris, and governed all; who governed Northampton, and discovered their Bawdery, which did infinitely please the Kings humour: and in truth had so much craft, as he served his turne upon all, but was ingrossed by none but by the Bed-chamber, who stuck so close to him, that they could not yet remove him. And now doe the English Faction (seeing they could not sever the Scots from him) endeavour to raise a mutiny against the Scots that were his supporters, their Agents divulging every where, the Scots would get all, and would begger the Kingdom; the Scots on the other side complaine to the King, they were so poore, they under-went the by-word of beggerly Scots; to which the King returned this answer (as he had a very ready wit) Content your selves, I will shortly make the English as beggerly as you, and so end that controversie; this is as true as he truly performed it, for however he enriched many in particular, as Salisbury, Suffolke, Northampton, Worcester, Lake, &c. yet he did begger himself, and the Nation in generall.

This also was inculcated into the eares of the Parliament, when that great businesse about the union was in debate, which was much crossed by that opinion; if they had already impoverished the kingdome, by the union, they would bankerupt it. But since, you see by their owne valour and bravery of spirit, they have made us begge a re-union with them, and for ought we see, all our happines is derived from their favours.

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They that then lived at Court, and were curious observers of every mans actions, could have affirmed, that Salisbury, Suffolke, and Northampton, and their friends did get more then the whole Nation of Scotland (Dunbar excepted) for whatever others got, they spent here, only Dunbar laid a foundation of a great Family, which did all revert into England againe, with his Daughters marriage with the House of Suffolke, so in truth, all the water run to their Mills.

It is most true, that many Scots did get much, but not more with one hand, then they spent with the other, witnesse the Earle of Kelly, Annandale, &c. nay, that great Getter, the Earle of Carlisle also, and some private Gentlemen; as Gideon Murrey, John Achmoty, James Baily, John Gib, and Bernard Lindley, got some pretty estates, not worthy either the naming or envying, that old Servants should get some moderate estates to leave to posterity.

But 〈◊〉 , and all the Scots in generall, got scarce the Tythe of those English Getters, that can be said did stick by them, or their posterity; besides, Salisbury had one tricke to get the kernell, and leave the Scots but the shell, yet cast all the envie on them; He would make them buy Bookes of Fee-farmes, some one hundred pounds per annum, some one hundred Markes, and he would compound with them for a thousand pounds, which they were willing to embrace, because they were sure to have them passe without any controle, or charge, and one thousand pounds appeared to them that never saw ten pounds before, an inexhaustible treasure; then would Salisbury fill up this Booke with such prime Land, as should be worth ten or twenty thousand pounds, which was easie for him, being Treasurer, so to doe; and by this meanes Salisbury inriched himselfe

infinitely, yet cast the envie on the Scots, in whose names these Bookes appeared, and are still upon Record to all posterity; though Salisbury had the Honey, they poore Gentlemen but part of the Wax; Dunbar only had his Agents, and could play his owne game, which they durst not crosse; so was the poore King and State cheated on all hands.

And now did a contention arise between the English and Scots, about the election of a Favourite, out of whether Nation he should come; now was Montgomery in the wane, being given more to his own pleasures, then to observe the King, so that alway the Earle of Carliste did invest him in his roome; he as soon by his neglective carriage did devest himselfe, yet was he ever in the Kings good opinion, and one that he put more trust in at the time of his death, then in all his other servants.

Then was there a young Gentleman,Mr. Carre his rise. Master Robert Carre, who had his breeding in France, and was newly returned from Travaile, a Gentleman very handsome, and well bred, and one that was observed to spend his time in serious studies, and did accompany himselfe with none but men of such eminencies, as by whom hee might be bettered; this Gentleman, the Scots so wrought it, that they got him into a Groomes place of the Bed-chamber, and was very well pleasing to all; he did more then any other Associate himself, with Sir Thomas Overbury, a man of excellent parts, (but those made him proud, over-valuing himselfe, and under-valuing others, and was infected with a kinde of insolency) with this Gentleman spent he most of his time, and drew the eyes of the Court, as well as the affection of his Master upon him, yet very few, but such as were the curious observers of those times could discerne the drawing of the Kings affection▪ 〈◊〉 upon a Coronation day, riding in with the Lord Dingwell to the Tilt-yard, his horse fell with him, and brake his legge, he was instantly carried into Master Riders house at Charing-crosse, and the newes as instantly carried to the King, having little desire to behold the triumph, but much desired to have it ended, and no sooner ended, but the King went instantly to visite him, and after by his daily visiting, and mourning over him, taking all care for his speedy recovery, made the daybreake of his glory appeare, every Courtier now concluding him, actually a favourite.

Lord! how the great men flocked then to see him, and to offer to his Shrine in such abundance, that the King was forced to lay a restraint, least it might retard his recovery by spending his spirits; and to facilitate the cure, care was taken for a choyce Dyet for himselfe, and Chirurgions, with his Attendants, and no sooner recovered but a proclaimed Favourite.

Then the English Lords, who formerly coveted an English Favourite (and to that end the Countesse of Suffolke did looke out choyce young men, whom she daily curled, and perfuming their breaths) left all hope, and she her curling and perfuming, all adoring this rising Sun, every man striving to invest himselfe into this mans favour (not sparing for bounty nor flattery) which was not hard to be obtained, being naturally more addicted to the English then to the Scotch, in so much that he endeavoured to forget his native Country, and his Fathers house, having none of note about him but English, and but one besides English, in any familiarity with him, which was Sir Robert Carre his Kins-man; but above all, was Sir Thomas Overbury his Pythias. Then was the strife between Salisbury and Suffolke, who shonld ingrosse him, and make him their Monopoly; each presenting, proffering, and accumulating favours upon Overburyes Kindred, the Father made a Iudge in Wales, and himselfe offered Offices; but Overbury, naturally of an insolent spirit, which was elevated by being so intimate with a Favourite, and wholly having ingrossed that commodity, which could not be retayled, but by him and his favour; with a kind of scorn neglected their friendships, yet made use of both.

Now was Carre Knighted,Mr. Carre Knighted. and made Gentleman of the Bed-chamber, and Overburies pride rose with the others honours, still scorning the Chapmen, as they did by their cheap offices undervalue so precious a commodity.

Northampton finding himself neglected by so mean a fellow, Northamptons plot upon him. cast about another way, and followed Balaams councell, by sending a Moabitish Woman unto him, in which he made use of Copinger a Gentleman, who had spent a faire fortune left by his Ancestors, and now for maintenance, was forced to lead the life of a Serving-man (that formerly kept many to serve him) and as an addition, the worst of that kind, a flat Bawd.

This Gentleman had lived a scandalous life, by keeping a Whore of his own, which for the honour of her Family I will not name, therefore was fittest to trade in that commodity for another, and in truth was fit to take any impression basenesse could stamp on him, as the sequell of this story will manifest; This Moabitish woman, was a Daughter of the Earl of Suffolk, married to a young noble Gentleman the Earl of Essex.

This Train took, and the first private meetings were at Copingers house, and himselfe Bawd to their lust, which put him into a far greater bravery for a time▪ then when he was master of his owne, but i • had bitternesse on all hands in the end. This privacy in their stoln pleasures, made Copinger a friend to Northampton, and Suffolk, though but a Servant to Viscount Rochester, for so now was he called, and now had they linked him so close, as no breaking from them.

Overbury was that John Baptist that reprooved the Lord, for the sinne of using the Lady, and abusing the young Earle of Essex; would call her Strumpet, her mother and brother Bawds, and used them with so much scorne, as in truth was not to bee indured from a fellow of his Rank; to persons of that quality, how faulty soever otherwise they were.

Then to satisfie Overbury, and blot out the name of Sin, his love led him into a more desperate way by a resolution to marry another mans wife, against this then did Overbury bellow lowder, and in it, shewed himselfe more like an affectionate, then a discreet & moderate friend: had he compounded but one dram of discretion with an ounce of affection, he might with such a receipt, have preserved his owne life, and their fortunes and honors.

For, those that infinitely hated that Family, did as infinitely condemn his insolent carriage and behaviour towards them; so that had any of those Brothers, or name, killed Overbury, either by picking a quarrell with him, or pistolling him, or any other desperate way, or bravely in a Duell, upon some other ground of a quarrell, then blemishing their Sister; the World would have justified the action, however he had stood with God; but Buchanans character of that Family bars all expectation of so much bravery of spirit; but a Counsell must be held to put him to death by some baser means.

The Plot them must be,The plot against Overbury. he must be sent a Leidger Embassadour into France, which by obeying, they should bee rid of so great an eye-sore, by disobeying, he incurred the displeasure of his Prince; a contempt, that he could not expect lesse then imprisonment for, and by that means be sequestred from his friend.

And thus far I do beleeve the Earl of Somerset, (for so was hee now created) was consenting; this stratagem tooke, and Overbury might truly say Video meliora, deteriora sequor: for he indeed made the worst choyce; it could not be thought, but such an imployment was far above his desert, and much better for him to have accepted then to bee confined to a loathsome Prison, and for want of judgement, had his sufferings been lesse then losse of life he had not bin worthy of pity; but, Jupiter quos vult perdere, hos dementat; hee would to the Tower, from whence he never returned, rather then accept of an honourable imployment, from whence he might not only have returned, but done his friends acceptable service, either in private, or publick.

In his managing of this businesse, that wisdome of his which formerly he had been esteemed for, suffered under the censure of Wise men, as well as Fooles. Having him now fast in Prison; Herodias by pleasing her Herod must also aske, and have his life; for, per scelus ad scelera tutior est via. To that end they preferred Empoysoners to be servants to Sir Gervase Elwayes then Lieutenant of the Tower; The Gentleman was ever held wise, and honest, but unfortunate in having this place thrust upon him without his thought; he was also so religious, that few in the Court did equall him; so wise, as he obtained the Character of wise Sir Gervase Elwayes, yet neither could his wisdom, nor the opinion of his Religion and honesty, prevent that Fate, he was so ignorant of the plot, as he never did dreame of any such matter; untill one day (as it should seem) Weston being told, Elwayes did know wherefore he was preferred unto him, to waite on Overbury; he asked the Lieutenant one day before dinner whether he should now doe it, Elwayes asked him, what? Weston at that being somewhat abashed, Elwayes espying it, presently said, no not yet; for he did beleeve there was something knowne to Weston, which was a secret to himselfe. Whereupon, Elwayes could not chew any meat, for chewing upon those words of Weston, but instantly commanded his Table to be voyded, and thence he went into his Study, and sent for Weston to come unto him, examining him of the meaning of that question; at last by faire meanes, and threatning together, got the truth; then Elwayes (as he well could) laid before Weston the horridnesse of the Fact, the torments of Hell, and the unassurance of his momentary inioying of either reward or favour after the Fact done, but that it must follow so many Personages of Honour, would never cabinet such a secret in his breast, that might ruine them; at last made him so sensible of his danger in this life; but more sensible of the torments in the other, that Weston falling on his knees, said; O Lord, how good and gracious art thou, and thy mercy is above all thy workes; for this day is salvation come to my soul, and I would not for all the world have had such a sinne upon me; giving the Lieutenant humble thanks, that had been the instrument of saving his soul, by putting him off from so foul intentions.

The Lieutenant having now thus renewed grace in him, by making him (as he thought) a new man; said, thou and I have a dangerous part to act, yet be honest and true to me, and I doubt not, but with Gods help, we shall perform it wel, both before God and the World; Weston faithfully promised him, and for a long time as faithfully performed with him; the Lieutenant willed him, to bring all such things as were sent him (to give Overbury) unto him, which he accordingly did; the Lieutenant gave them to Cats and Dogs which he ever had ready in his study for that purpose; some died presently, some lay lingering a longer time: all the Jellies and Tarts sent to Overbury, hee cast into his Privy, they destaining the very Dishes,

This continued long, the Earle often sending to visit Overbury, assuring him he did not forget his release, which would not be long deferred, wherein most men did verily beleeve he meant both nobly and truly, though others conjectured his meaning was a dissolution: At last the Countesse sent for Weston, reviling him, and calling him, Treacherous Villaine, for had he given those things sent, Overbury had not been now alive; vowing, she would be revenged on him; upon the very fear whereof, he then gave those poysons after sent, without acquainting the Lieutenant; yet for all this schooling of Weston, and his assurance given of his future fidelity to the Countesse, she would not trust him single any more, but put another Co-adjutor to him, one Franklin, a verier Villain then Weston, and truly they themselves may be deemed very ill, that could seek out such wicked instruments.

These two Villains, out of a desire to see the successe of their hellish imployment, comming shortly after it, into Overburyes chamber, found him in infinite torment, with contention between the strength of Nature and the working of the Poyson, and it being very like Nature had gotten the better in that contention, by the thrusting out of boyls, botches, and blains, they fearing it might come to light, upon the judgement of Phisitians, that foul play had been offered him, consented to stifle him with the Bed-cloathes, which accordingly was performed, and so ended he his miserable life, with the assurance of the Conspirators, that he dyed by poyson; none thinking (much lesse knowing) otherwise, but these two Murtherers.

Now was all (as they beleeved) quiet, and in the depth of security, and the Earl and Countesse began to carry their loves more openly and impudently: But, they understanding that the world did talke very loudly, and broadly of this adulterous meeting; it must (from that ground) proceed to an adulterous Marriage, as well to the wronging a young Noble man, as to the dishonour and shame of themselves; But they must needs goe whom the Devill drives: yet know they not how, and somely to effect this, but by making the King a Party in this bawdy businesse, which was no hard matter to effect; for the Kings eye began to wander after a new Favourite, being satiated with the old; therefore for the bringing this bawdery to a marriage, the Bishops must be principall actors (as I know not in what bad action they would not be lookerson,) and the Bishop of Winchester, an excellent Civilian, and a very great Scholler, must be the principal, for which his Son was Knighted, and will never lose that by-title of Sir Nullity Bilson.

For, by a nullity of the first Marriage, must the second take place; For the canvasing whereof, there were many meetings of the Bishops and the prime Civillians, in which there wanted no bribes from the Lord, Lady, and their Friends, to have this nullity brought to passe, wherein the discourse would have better befitted the mouths of Bawds and Ruffians, then the grave Divines; among them▪ Bishop Neal, (then Bishop of Rochester, a Creature and Favourite of the house of Suffolke) took up a learned discourse in the Science of Bawdery, how many degrees in that Science must produce a Nullity, wherein were so many beastly expressions, as for modesty sake I will not recite them, being offensive to my very thoughts and memory; Aristotles Problemes was a modest discourse to his, and he appeared to be better studied in that, then in Divinity, and to wind up his learned Discourse, concluded, all those met in this Lord, (meaning Essex) and this Lady.

The Arch-Bishop of Canterbury Abbot, to his everlasting fame, mainly opposed all the proceedings, and protested against them, for which he ever after lived in disgrace, excluded from the Councell Table, and dyed in the disgrace of the King on Earth, though in favour with the King of Kings.

Yet, forsooth, to make up the ful measure of Bawdery, and to justifie Neales Discourse, that all things in the former Marriage conduced to a nullity; a search must be made, to finde whether there had been a penetration, and a Jury of grave Matrons were found fit for that purpose, with their Spectacles, ground, to lessen, not to make the letter larger; who after their inspection gave their (false) verdict, that she was intacta virgo: which was thought very strange, for the World tooke notice that her way was very neare beaten, so plaine, as by regia via, and in truth so it was, and a way more common than that, before Somerset did ever travell that way; besides, the World tooke notice they two had long lived in Adultery, yet had this old Kettle a trick for that also.

The Lady of Essex, for modesty sake, makes humble suit to the reverend bawdy Bishops, (who were also plotters in this stratagem) that she might not appeare bare-faced, for blushing; but desired to come vailed, with a Taffity over her face; this by all meanes was thought so reasonable (for a pretty modest Lady) that the bawdy Bishops, and pur-blinde Ladies, which had forgotten modesty themselves, could not thinke it worthy the deniall; one Mistris Fines, neare Kinswoman to old Kettle, was dressed up in the Countesses Cloathes, at that time too young to bee other then virgo intacta, though within two yeares after▪ had the old Ladyes made their inspection, the orifice would not have appeared so small, to have delivered such a verdict as they did (and a just one) upon their views: though upon some of their knowledges it was not that Lady they were to give verdict upon; if any make doubt of the truth of this Story, the Author delivers upon the reputation of a Gentleman, he had it verbatim from a Knight, (otherwise of much Honour,S. W. B. though the very dependency on that Family may question it) which did usher the Lady into the place of inspection, and hath told it often to his friends in mirth.

Now is the Nullity pronounced, and the Marriage with Somerset with speed solemnized, for which they and the whole Family of Suffolke paid deare in after time; and had sowre sauce to that sweet meat of their great Son in Law

And surely he was the most unfortunate man in that marriage, being as generally beloved for himselfe, and disposition, as hated afterwards for his linking himselfe in that Family; for in all the time of this mans favour, before this Marriage, he did nothing obnoxious to the State, or any base thing for his private gaine, but, whether it was his owne nature that curbed him, or that there was then a brave Prince living, and a noble Queene that did awe him, we cannot so easily judge, because after this Marriage, and their death, he did many very ill things.

In this Favourites flourishing time, came over the Palsgrave to marry our Kings Daughter, which for the present, gave much content, and with the generall applause; yet it proved a most unfortunate Match to him and his Posterity, and all Christendome; for his Alliance with so many great Princes, put on him aspiring thoughts, and so ambitious was he as not to content himselfe with his hereditary Patrimony of one of the greatest Princes in Germany; but must aspire to a Kingdome, beleeving that his great allyance would carry him through any enterprise, or bring him off with honour, in both which he failed; being cast out of his owne Country with shame, and he and his, ever after, living upon the devotion of other Princes; but had his Father in Law spent halfe the mony in Swords he did in words, (for which he was but scorned) it had kept him in his owne inheritance, and saved much Christian blood since shed; but whiles hee, being wholly addicted to peace, spent much treasure, in sending costly Embassadours to treat his Enemies (which he esteemed friends) might have sent Armies with a lesse charge, to conquer, so that it may be concluded, that this then thought the most happy Match in Christendome, was the greatest unhappines to Christendome, themselves and Posterity.

And, as if to fore-tell the sad event, presently after the Gallantry and triumphing of that Marriage, the Kingdome was clad all in mourning, for the sad obsequies of that most hopefull Prince Henry, who dyed not without vehement suspicion of Poyson, and I wish I could say but suspicion only; but our future discourse will tell you otherwise: He was only shewed to this Nation, as the Land of Canaan was to Moses, to look on, not to enjoy: wee did indeed joy in that happinesse we expected in him, but God found us so unthankfull, and tooke so lightly the death of that ever famous Queen Elizabeth, as hee intended, to make us an example of scorne now, that were formerly, of all glory.

His death was fore-told by one Bruce, Pr. Henry and Salisbury's death. a most famous Astrologer of the Scottish Nation, for which the Earle of Salisbury (a great Statesman) caused him to be banished, who left this fare-well with the Earl, that it should be too too true, yet his Lordship should not live to see it, the Earle dying in May, the Prince in November following, to the infinite griefe of all the Kingdome; but the Earle of Somerset and Family of Howards, who by his death thought themselves secured from all future dangers; for, he being a Prince of an open heart, hating all basenesse, would often say, If ever he were King, he would not leave one of that Family to pisse against a wall.

This brave Prince being dead, Somerset and that Faction bare all downe before them, disposing of all offices; yet Somerset never turned any out (as did the succeeding favourite) but places being voyd, he disposed of them, and who would give most, was the word, yet not by Somerset himselfe, but by his Lady and her Family; for he was naturally of a noble disposition, and it may be justly said of him, that never could be said of any before, or ever will be of any after him; He never got suite for himselfe or friends that was burthensome to the Common-wealth, no Monopolies, no Impositions; yet in his time, and by his favour, (though not for his use) were brought into the Court two meane fellowes grand Projectors, the one, Ingram, an ordinary Waiter of the Customes, Ingram and Cranfield Projectors. the other, Cranfield, an Apprentice, who had served three broken Citizens, and it is probable by his wit and honesty he might thrive by them all, and lay that for his first a foundation of his future projecting; the one a creature of Northamptons, the other of the house of Suffolke, and these like ill birds defiled their owne nests, and discovered the secrets of the Custom house; yet their projects seemed for the Kings profit only, though much water ran by his Mill, and Suffolke did very well licke his owne fingers; for, Salisbury being dead, Suffolke was Treasurer (the proper place for Customs) and his Son in Law▪ Chamberlaine and Favourite, and then what could not they two doe?

Yet Somerset ever kept them but like Projectors, which after Favourites raised to the degrees of Nobility, only Suffolke by Somersets power made Ingram a Cofferer of the Kings House, which was the first apparent step to Somersets downfall; for, however the King made faire semblance to maintaine that Act, yet made he the Earle of Kelly his instrument to set the Officers of his houshold to petition him against it, and ever from the Kings owne directions to take their instructions, in which, one of the Principal given, was, not to seeke to Somerset upon any tearmes, nay, to deny to accept his favour though offered to disannul his owne act, but to carry it with an high hand against Somerset, by which, assurance was given of prevailing. Here was pretty jugling; (the Court being then but an Academy of Juglers.) Somerset did often Court the Officers (to make him that Achilles his Weapon, that could wound and heale againe) but was entertained with s • orne; yet ambition so dazled his eyes, hee could not see the precipice on which he stood ready for his downfall; for, surely no Astrologers could have given him truer notions of his ruine then this: Cranfield, the other Projector soared higher, though not in Somersets time could he have his feathers imped, but Buckingham after did so impe them, that Cranfield endeavoured to pull out his, and gave him the first affront; by this you may observe how the times altered from better to worse, and so fittest for worthlesse men.

For now began to appeare a glimering of a new Favourite,Mr. George Villiers a Favourite. one Mr. George Villiers, a younger Son, (by a second Venter) of an ancient Knight in Leicestershire, as I take it, his Father of an ancient Family, his Mother but of a meane, and a waiting Gentle-woman, whom the old man fell in love with and married, by whom he had three sons, all raised to the Nobility, by meanes of their brother-Favourite: this Gentleman was come also but newly from Travell, and at that time did beleeve it a great fortune to marry a Daughter of Sir Roger Astons, and in truth it was the heighth of his ambition, and for that only end was an hanger on upon the Court; the Gentlewoman loved him so well, as could all his friends have made (her for her great fortune) but an hundred Markes Joynture, she had married him presently, in despight of all her friends; and no question would have had him without any Joynture at all.

But, as the Fates would have it, before the closing up of this Match, the King cast a glancing eye towards him, which was easily perceived by such as observed their Princes humour, and then the Match was laid aside, some assuring him a greater Fortune was comming towards him. Then, one gave him his place of Cup-bearer, that he might be in the Kings eye; another sent to his Mercer and Taylor to put good Cloathes on him; a third, to his Sempster for curious Linnen, and all as prefacive insinuations to obtaine Offices upon his future Rise; then others tooke upon them to be his Bravoes, to undertake his quarrels upon affronts put on him by Somersets Faction, so all hands helped to the piecing up this new Favourite.

Then begun the King to eate abroad, who formerly used to eate in his Bed-chamber, or if by chance supped in his Bed-chamber, after supper would come forth to see pastimes and fooleries; in which Sir Ed. Zouch, Sir George Goring, and Sir Iohn Finit were the chiefe and Master Fools, and surely this Fooling got them more then any others wisdome, farre above them in desert: Zouch his part it was to sing bawdy songs, and tell bawdy tales; Finits, to compose these Songs: then was a set of Fidlers brought to Court on purpose for this Fooling, and Goring was Master of the game for Fooleries, sometimes presenting David Droman, and Archee Armstrong the Kings Foole, on the back of the other fools, to tilt one at another, till they fell together by the eares; sometimes the property was presented by them in Antick Dances. But Sir John Millicent (who was never known before) was commended for notable fooling, and so was he indeed the best extemporary foole of them all: with this jollity was this Favourite ushered in. This made the house of Suffolke fret, and Somerset carried himselfe now more proudly, and his Bravado's, ever quarrelling with the others, which, by his Office of Lord Chamberlaine, for a while carried it. But, Somerset using of Sir Ralph Wynwood (whom himselfe brought in for a Secretary of State) in so scornfull a manner (he having but only the title, the Earle himselfe keeping the Seales, and doing the businesse) made Wynwood endeavour to ruine him, who soone got an opportunity thereto, by frequenting the Countesse of Shrewsbury (then Prisoner in the Tower) who told Wynwood on a time, that Overbury was poysoned, which she had so understood from Sir Gervase Elwaies; who did labour by her meanes to deale with her two sons in Law, Arundell and Pembrooke, (Wynwood also being great-with that faction) that when it came into question, he might save his owne stake, who truly was no otherwise guilty, but that he did not discover it at Westons first disclosing it (hee being Keeper of the prison) so by inference, his not disclosing it, was Overburies death; and had he revealed it then, I dare say he had beene brought into the Star-chamber for it, and undone (for yet was not the time fit for discovery.) Wynwood, it was thought, acquainted the King with it, knowing how willingly he would have been rid of Somerset, yet the King durst not bring it in question, nor any question ever would have been, had not Somerset sought to crosse him in his passion of love to his new Favourite, in which the King was more impatient, then any woman to enjoy her love.

Not long after, Thrumball, Agent at Bruxels, had (by an Apothecaries boy one Reeve, after an Apothecary himselfe in London, and dyed very lately) gotten hold of this poysoning businesse, for Reeve having under his Master, made some of those desperate Medicines, either run away, or else his Master sent him out of the way, and fell in company of Thrumbals servants at Bruxels, to whom he reveal'd it, they to their Master, who examining the boy, discovered the truth; Thrumball presently wrote to Secretary Wynwood he had businesse of consequence to discover, but would not send it, therefore desired licence to come over. The King would not yeeld to his returne, but willed him to send an Expresse: That Thrumball utterly refused; and very wisely, for had any thing appeared under his hand, the boy might have dyed, or run away, and then had he made himselfe the Author of that which the courtesie of another must have justified.

The King being of a longing disposition, rather then he would not know, admitted Thrumbals returne, and now they had good testimony by the Apothecary, who revealed Weston, Mrs. Turner, and Franklyn to be principall Agents, yet this (being neare the time of progresse) was not stirred in till about Michaelmas following; yet Wynwood did now carry himselfe in a braving way of contestation against Somerset, struck in with the Faction of Villiers, now on progresse. The King he went westward, where he was feasted at Cranborne, by a Sonne in Law of that Family; at Lulworth, and Bindon, by the Lord Walden; at Charlton, by Sir Thomas Howard; and every where nothing but one Faction braving the other; then was the King feasted at Purbeck by the Lord Hatton, who was of the contrary Faction, and at a Joynture house of Sir George Villiers mother, called Gotly, where he was magnificently entertained.

After all this feasting, homeward came the King, who desired by all meanes to reconcile this clashing between his declining, and rising Favourite; to which end, at Lulworth the King imployed Sir Humphrey May, a great servant to Somerset, and a wise servant to Villiers, but with such instructions as if it came from himselfe: and Villiers, had order presently after Sir Humphrey Mayes returne, to present himselfe and service to Somerset. My Lord, said he, Sir George Villers, will come to you to offer his service, and desire to be your creature; and therefore refuse him not, embrace him, and your Lordship shall still stand a great man, though not the sole Favourite: My Lord seemed averse, Sir Humphrey then told him in plaine tearmes, that he was sent by the King to advise it, and that Villiers would come to him to cast himself into his protection, to take his rise under the shadow of his wings: Sir Humphrey May was not parted from my Lord halfe an houre, but in comes Sir George Villiers, and used these very words, My Lord, I desire to be your servant, and your creature, and shall desire to take my Court-preferment under your favour, and your Lordship shall finde me, as faithfull a servant unto you, as ever did serve you. My Lord returned this quick and short answer, I will none of your service, nor shall you have any of my favour, I will, if I can, break your necke, and of that be confident. This was but a harsh Complement, and savoured more of spirit then wisdome; and since that time, breaking each others necks was their aimes, and its verily beleeved, had Somerset complyed with Villiers, Overburyes death had stil lain raked up in his own ashes; but, God, who will never suffer murther to go unpunished, will have what he will, maugre all the wisdome of the World.

To Windsor doth the King return, to end His Progresse, from thence to Hampton-Court, then to White-Hall, and shortly after to Royston, to begin His Winter-Iourney.

And now begins the game to bee plaid, in which, Somerset must be the loser, the Cards being shuffled, cut, and dealt between the King and Sir Edward Cooke, Cheife Iustice (whose Daughter Turbeck, Villers his Brother had married, or was to marry, and therefore a fit instrument to ruine Somerset) and Secretary Winwood; these all playd: The stake, Somersets life, and his Ladyes, and their Fortunes, and the Family of Suffolke; some of them played booty, and in truth the Game was not plaid above-board.

The day the King went from White-Hall to Theobalds, and so to Royston, the King sent for all the Judges (his Lords and Servants encircling him) where kneeling down in the midst of them, he used these very words:

My Lords the Judges; It is lately come to my hearing, that you have now in examination a businesse of poysoning: Lord in what a most miserable condition shall this Kingdom be, (the onely famous Nation for hospitality in the World) if our Tables should become such a snare, as none could eate without danger of life, and that Italian custom should be introduced amongst us! (Therefore, my Lords, I charge you, as you will answer it at that great and dreadfull day of Judgement, that you examin it strictly without favour, affection, or partiality; and if you shall spare any guilty of this crime, Gods curse light upon you and your posterity: And if I spare any that are found guilty, Gods curse light on me, and my posterity for ever. But how this dreadfull thunder-Curse or imprecation was performed, shall be shewed hereafter; and I pray God, the effect be not felt amongst us, even at this day (as it hath been, I fear, on that vertuous Lady Elizabeth, and her children,) for God treasures up such imprecations and deprecations, and poures them out when a Nation least dreams, even when they cry, peace, peace, to their souls; and it may wel be at this time (our other sins concurring) that he is pouring them out upon King, Judges, and the whole State.

It appeares how unwilling the King was to ruin Somerset, a creature of his owne making, But, immedicabile vulnus, Ense rescin • endum est; Grace was offered by the King, had he had grace to have apprehended it.

The King with this, took his farewell for a time of London, and was accompanyed with Somerset to Royston, where no sooner he brought him, but instantly tooke his leave, little imagining what viper lay amongst the hearbs; nor must I forget to let you know how perfect the King was in the art of dissimulation, or, (to give it his own phrase) King-craft; The Earle of Somerset (to his apprehension) never parted from him with more seeming affection then at this time, when intentionally the King had so exposed him to Cookes dressing, that hee knew Somerset should never see him more; and had you seen that seeming affection (as the Author himself did) you would rather have beleeved he was in his rising, then setting: The Earl when he kissed his hand,K. James his parting with Somerset▪ the King hung about his neck, slabboring his cheeks; saying, for Gods sake when shall I see thee againe? On my soule, I shall neither eate, nor sleep, untill you come again; the Earl told him, on Monday (this being on the Friday,) for Gods sake let me, said the King, shall I? shall I? Then lolled about his neck; then, for Gods sake, give thy Lady this kisse for me: in the same manner at the stayres head, at the midle of the staires, and at the stayres foot; the Earle was not in his Coach, when the King used these very words (in the hearing of four servants, of whom, one was Somersets great creature, and of the Bed-chamber, who reported it instantly to the Author of this History) I shall never see his face more. I appeale therefore to the Reader, whether this Motto of Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare, was not as well performed in this passage, as his Beati pacifici, in the whole course of his life; and his love to the latter, made him to bee beaten with his own weapon in the other, by all Princes and States that had to doe with him.

But, before Somersets approach to London his Countesse was apprehended; at his arrivall, himselfe; and the King being that night at supper, said to Sir Thomas Monson, My Lord cheife Justice hath sent for you; he asked the King, when hee should waite on him again, who replyed, you may come when you can: And (as in the story of Byron, and many others) there have been many foolish observations, as presage; so was there in this Gentleman, who was the Kings Mr. Faulconer, and in truth such an one, as no Prince in Christendom had; for, what Flights other Princes had, he would excell them for his Master, in which one was at the Kite.

The French sending over his Faulconers to shew that sport, his Master Faulconer lay long here, but could not kill one Kite, (ours being more magnanimous then the French Kite; Sir Thomas Monson desired to have that flight in all exquisitnesse, and to that end was at 1000l. charge in Ger-Faulcons for that flight, in all that charge, he never had but one cast would performe it; and those had killed nine Kites, which were as many as they were put off unto, not any one of them escaping. Whereupon the Earle of Pembrooke with all the Lords, desired the King but to walk out of Royston Townes end, to see that Flight, which was one of the most stateliest Flights of the world, for the high mountee: the King went unwillingly forth, the Flight was shewed, but the Kite went to such a mountee, and the Hawke after her, as all the field lost sight of Kite and Hawke and al, and neither Kite nor Hawke were either seen or heard of to this present, which made all the Court conjecture it a very ill omen.

So that you see, the plot was so well laid, as they could be all within the toyle at one instant, not knowing of each other.

Now are in hold, the Earle, his Countesse, Sir Thomas Monson, Mris. Turner (a very lewd and infamous woman of life) Weston and Franklin, with some others of lesse note, of which one Simon a servant to Sir Thomas Monson, who was imployed in carrying Ielly and Tart to the Tower, who upon his examination, for his pleasant answer, was instantly dismissed, My Lord told him, Simon you have had a hand in this poysoning businesse; He replyed, no, my good Lord, I had but one finger in it, which almost cost me my life, and at the best cost me all my Hair and Nailes; for the truth was Simon was somewhat liquorish, and finding the syrrup swim from the top of a Tart, as he carryed it, he did with his finger scum it off, and it was to be beleeved, had he known what it had been, hee would not have been his Taster at so deare a rate; and that you may know Simons interest with that Family, I shall tel you a story.

Sir Thomas Monson was a great lover of Musicke, and had as good as England had, especially for voyces, and was at infinite charge in breeding some in Italy. This Simon was an excellent Musician, and did sing delicately, but was a more generall Musician than ever the world had, and in one kind he surpassed all. He had a Catzo of an immense length and bignesse, with this, being his Tabor stick, his palme of his hand his Tabor, and his mouth his Pipe, he would so imitate a Tabor and Pipe, as if it had been so indeed: To this Musicke, would Mrs. Turner, the young Ladies, and some of that Ging dance ever after Supper; the old Lady, who loved that Musicke as well, as her Daughters, would sit and laugh, shee could scarce sit for laughing; and it was beleeved, that some of them danced after that Pipe without the Tabor: his Master comming to heare of it turned him away, who was infinitly importuned to take him again, but would not: however he could not have wanted a service elsewhere, but he never durst use his pipe amongst them, for their dancing recreation, however he might for any other.

And now poor Mrs. Turner, Weston and Franklin began the Tragedy, Mrs. Turners day of mourning being better then the day of her birth: for she dyed very penitently, and shewed much modesty in her last act, which is to be hoped was accepted with God, after that dyed Weston; and then was Franklin arraigned, who confessed that Overbury was smothered to death, not poysoned to death; though he had poyson given him.

Here was Cooke glad, how to cast about to bring both ends together, Mrs. Turner, and Weston being already hanged for killing Overbury with poyson, but he being the very quintessence of Law, presently informes the Jury, that if a man be done to death, with Pistols, Poniards, swords, Halter, Poyson, &c. so he be done to death, the Indictment is good, if but indicted for any of those wayes; but the good Lawyers of those times were not of that opinion, but did beleeve, that Mrs. Turner was directly murthered by my Lord Cookes Law, as Overbury was without any Law.

In the next place, comes the Countesse to her Tryall, at whose Arraignment, as also at Mrs. Turners before, were shewed many Pictures, Puppits, &c. with some Exorcismes and Magick spels, which made them appear more odious, as being known to converse with Witches and Wizards; and amongst those tricks, Formans book was shewed. This Forman was a fellow dwelt in Lambeth, a very silly fellow, yet had wit enough to cheate Ladyes, and other women, by pretending skill in telling their Fortunes, as, whether they should bury their Husbands, and what second Husbands they should have, and whether they should injoy their Loves, or whether Maids should get Husbands, or injoy their servants to themselves without Corrivals; but, before he would tell any thing, they must write their names to his Alphabeticall booke, with their own hand writing; by this trick he kept them in awe, if they should complaine of his abusing them, as in truth hee did nothing else: Besides, it was beleeved, some meetings were at his house, wherein the art of a Bawd was more beneficiall to him, then that of a Conjurer; and that hee was a better Artist in the one then other; and that you may know his skil, hee was himselfe a Cuckold, having a very pretty wench to his Wife, which would say, she did it to try his skill, but it fared with him as with Astrologers, that cannot foresee their owne destiny. I well remember, there was much mirth made in the Court, upon the shewing this booke, for it was reported, the first leafe my Lord Cook lighted on, he found his owne wives name.

The next that came on the stage was Sir Thomas Monson; but the night before he was to come to his Tryall, the King being at the game of Maw, said, To morrow comes Tom Monson to his Tryall; yea, said the KingsS. H. M. Card-holder, where if he doe not play his Master-prize, your Majesty shall never trust me; this so run in the Kings minde, as the next game, he said he was sleepy, and would play out that Set next night; the Gentleman departed to his lodging, but was no sooner gone, but the King sent for him, what communication they had, I know not, (yet it may be can more easily guesse then any other) but it is most certaine, next under God, that Gentleman saved his life, for the King sent a Post presently to London, to let the Lord chiefe Iustice know, he would see Monsons examination and confession, to see if it were worthy to touch his life, for so small a matter; Monson was too wise to set any thing but faire in his confession; what he would have stab'd with, should have been (viva voce) at his Arraignment. The King sent word, he saw nothing worthy of death, or of bonds, in his Accusation or Examination: Cook was so mad, he could not have his will of Monson, that hee said, Take him away, we have other matters against him of an higher nature; with which words, out issues about a dozen Warders of the Tower, and tooke him from the Barre; and Cooks malice was such against him, as though it rained extreamly, and Monson not well, he made him goe a foot from the Guild-Hall to the Tower, which almost cost him his life; there he lay a close prisoner above three months, to the end to get a Recorders place, (that Cranfield desired) every man thinking him in some Treason, would not lend him any Money, and if so much money had not been paid by such a time, his place had been forfeited. And in this let me commend the part of a true friend in Sir Humphrey May, who in 24 hours, (after Sir Thomas his deep sensiblenesse of all other his friends deserting him in that great exigency) made his Brother Herick take up 2000. l. and pay it, to save his Office, without so much as any security from Sir Thomas Monson, (for he was close prisoner) or from any friend of his; and that you may know it was for his office only, this hard measure was shewed him, the Money was no sooner paid, but his friends might come unto him; and I must not let passe the skill of the Lord Loriskeine, a Scotch-man, who long before, by his physiognomy, told Sir George Marshall that Sir Thomas Monson would escape hanging nearer then ever any man did, which was true, for he was twice brought to his triall, put himselfe both times upon his Country, yet was only indicted, never tryed, and yet he had harder measure then ever any man had, for he lost his Office, being but indicted, and not condemned, which is without any president.

And now for the last act, enters Somerset himselfe on the Stage, who (being told, as the manner is, by the Lieutenant, that he must provide to goe next day to his triall) did absolutely refuse it, and said, they should carry him in his Bed; that the King had assured him, he should not come to any triall, neither durst the King bring him to tryall; this was in an high straine, and in a language not well under stood by Sir George Moore (then Lieutenant in Elwaies his roome) that made Moore quiver and shake, and however he was accounted a wise man, yet he was neare at his wits end.

Yet away goes Moore to Greenewich, as late as it was (being 12. at night) bounseth at the back-staires, as if mad, to whom came Jo. Leveston, one of the Groomes out of his Bed, enquires the reason of that distemper at so late a season; Moore tells him he must speake with the King; Leveston replyes, he is quiet (which in the Scottish dialect, is fast asleep) Moore sayes, you must awake him; Moore was called in, (the Chamber left to the King and Moore) he tels the King those passages, and desired to be directed by the King, for he was gone beyond his owne reason, to heare such bold and undutifull expressions, from a faulty Subject, against a just Soveraigne: The King falls into a passion of teares: On my soule, Moore, I wot not what to doe, thou art a wise man, helpe me in this great straight, and thou shalt finde thou dost it for a thankfull Master, with other sad expressions; Moore leaves the King in that passion, but assures him he will prove the utmost of his wit, to serve his Majesty, and was really rewarded with a suit worth to him 1500. l. (although Annandale his great friend, did cheat him of one halfe, so was there falshood in friendship.)

Sir George Moore returnes to Somerset about three next morning,Somersets Tryall. of that day he was to come to triall, enters Somersets chamber, tels him he had been with the King, found him a most affectionate Master unto him, and full of grace in his intentions towards him, but (said he) to satisfie Iustice, you must appeare, although returne instantly againe, without any further proceedings, only you shall know your enemies, and their malice, though they shall have no power over you: With this tricke of wit, he allayed his fury, and got him quietly, about eight in the morning, to the Hall, yet feared his former bold language might revert againe, and being brought by this trick into the toile, might have more inraged him to fly out into some strange discovery, for prevention whereof he had two servants placed on each side of him, with a Cloak on their armes, giving them withall a peremptory order, if that Somerset did any way fly out on the King, they should instantly hoodwink him with that Cloak, take him violently from the Bar, and carry him away; for which, he would secure them from any danger, and they should not want also a bountifull reward. But the Earle finding himselfe over-reached, re-collected a better temper, and went on calmly in his Tryall, where he held the company untill 7. at night. But who had seene the Kings restlesse motion all that day (sending to every Boat he saw landing at the Bridge, cursing all that came without tydings) would have easily judged all was not right, and there had been some grounds for his feares of Somersets boldnesse; but at last one bringing him word he was condemned, and the passages, All was quiet. This is the very relation from Moores owne mouth, and this he told verbatim, in Wanstead Parke, to two Gentlemen (of which the Author was one) who were both left by him to their own freedome, without engaging them, even in those times of high distemperatures, unto a faithfull secresie in concealing it: yet, though he failed in his wisdome, they failed not in that worth inherent in every Noble spirit, never speaking of it till after the Kings death.

And there were other strong inducements, to beleeve Somerset knew that by the King, he desired none other in the world should be partaker of, and that all was not peace within in the Peace-maker himselfe; for he ever courted Somerset to his dying day, and gave him 4000. l. per annum for Feefarme Rents, after he was condemned, which he took in his servants names, not his owne (as then being condemned; not capable of) and he then resolved never to have a pardon. I have heard it credibly reported, he was told by a Wizzard, that could he but come to see the Kings face againe, he should be re-invested in his former dearnesse with him; this had been no hard experiment, but belike he had too much Religion, to trust to Wizzards, or else some friends of his had trusted them, and been deceived by them, that he had little reason to put confidence in them.

Many beleeved him guilty of Overburies death, but the most thought him guilty only of the breach of friendship (and that in a high point) by suffering his imprisonment, which was the high-way to his murther; and this conjecture I take to be of the soundest opinion; for by keeping him out of the action (if it were discovered) his greatnesse fortified with innocency, would carry their nocencies through all dangers. For the Gentleman himselfe, he had misfortune enough to marry such a woman, in such a Family, which first undermined his Honour, afterwards his life, (at least to be dead in Law;) nor did any thing reflect upon him in all his time of Favourite, but in, and by that Family; first in his adulterous marriage, then in so hated a Family, and the bringing in Cranfield and Ingram, as Projectors, all by his Wives and friends meanes; otherwise had he been the bravest Favourite of our time, full of Majesty, imploying his time like a Statesman, and the King kept correspondency with him by Letters, almost weekly, to his dying day.

And here have we brought this great mans glory to its period, with his fatal Countesse, who some years after it, dyed miserably at Chiswick. Mris. Turner, Weston, Franklin and Elwayes dyed in the Tower, Weston ever saying, it never troubled him to dye for the Blue Ribbons sake: and so was concluded that grand businesse, the grosse production of a then foul State and Court, wherein, Pride, Revenge and Luxury abounded. Yet, and its verily beleeved, when the King made those terrible Imprecations on himselfe, and Deprecations of the Iudges, it was intended the Law should run in its proper channell, but was stopt and put out of course by the folly of that great Clerke though no wise man, Sir Edward Cooke, who, in a vaine-glorious speech, to shew his vigilancy, enters into a rapture as he then sat on the Bench, saying, God knows what became of that sweet Babe Prince Henry (but I know somewhat;) & surely, in searching the Cabinets, he lighted on some Papers that spake plain in that which was ever whispered; which had he gon on in a gentle way, would have falne in of themselves, not to have been prevented, but this folly of his tongue, stopt the breath of that discovery, of that so foule a murder, which, I fear, cryes still for vengeance.

And now begins the new Favourite to reign, without any concurrent; now hee rises in honour, as well as swells with pride, breaking out of those modest bounds, (which formerly had impaled him) to the high-way of pride and scorne, turning out, and putting in all he pleased: First, he must aspire to the Admiralls Office himselfe, and would not let the old Gentleman (so well deserving in that place) dye with that Title, but the King must put himselfe to a great charge, to put out the better, and take in the worse; yet for all his immense greatnesse, would he never let him be Admiral; untill he had first setled Sir Robert Mansell Vice-Admirall of England, during his life, by Patent, in which, he not onely manifested his love to his Noble friend, though sometime his servant, but his care to the State, that his experience and abilities, might support the others inabilities; wel knowing, that the Honour and safety of the Kingdome, consisted in the wel-ordering and strength of the Navy.

Next, Egerton had displeased him by not giving way to his exorbitant desires, he must out, and would not let him seale up his dying eyes, with the seals which he had so long carryed, and so well discharged; and to despite him the more, and to vex his very soule in the last Agony, he sent Bacon (one he hated yet, to be his Successor) for the Seales, which the old mansspirit could not brook, but sent them by his owne servant to the King, and shortly after yeelded his soul to his Maker.

And to the end you may know what men were made choyce of, to serve turnes, I shall set you downe a true story: This great Favourite sent a Noble Gentleman, and of much worth to Bacon, with this Message, Buckinghams Message to Bacon. that he knew him to be a man of excellent parts, and as the times were, sit to serve his Master in the Keepers place, but hee also knew him of a base and ingratefull dispotion, and an arrant Knave, apt in his prosperity, to ruine any that had raised him from adversity; yet for all this, hee did so much study his Masters service (knowing how fit an instrument he might be for him) that he had obtained the Seales for him; but with this assurance, should he ever requite him, as he had done some others to whom he had been more bound, he would cast him downe as much below scorne, as he had now raised him high above any Honour he could ever have expected.

Bacon was at that time Attorney Generall,Bacons Answer. who patiently hearing this Message, replyed, I am glad my noble Lord deales so friendly and freely with me, and hath made that choyce of so discreet and Noble a friend, that hath delivered his Message in so plaine language; but saith he, can my Lord know these abilities in me? and can hee thinke when I have! attained the highest preferment my profession is capable of, I shall so much faile in my judgement, and understanding, as to lose these abilities? and by my miscarriage to so noble a Patron, cast my selfe headlong from the top of that honour, to the very bottome of contempt and scorne? Surely, my Lord cannot thinke so meanly of me. The Gentleman replyed, I deliver you nothing from my selfe, but the words are put into my mouth by his Lordship, to which I neither adde nor diminish; for, had it been left to my discretion, surely, though I might have given you the substance, yet should I have apparelled it in a more moddest attire; but as I have faithfully delivered my Lords to you, so will I as faithfully returne yours to his Lordship.

You must understand the reason of this Message, was, his ungratefulnesse to Essex, which every one could remember, for the Earle saved him from starving, and he requited him so, as his Apology must witnesse; were there not a great fault, there needed no Apology; nor could any age, but a worthlesse, and corrupt, in men and manners, have thought him worthy such a place of honour.

Well, Lord Keeper he was, for which he paid nothing, nor was hee able; for now was there a new trick to put in dishonest and necessitous men, to serve such turnes, as men of plentifull fortunes, and fair reputations, would not accept of; and this filled the Church and Common-wealth full of beggerly fellowes (such daring to venture on any thing) having nothing to lose; Buckinghams course to raise his kindred. (for it is riches makes men cowards; Poverty, daring and valiant, to adventure at any thing to get something) yet did not Buckingham doe things gratis, but, what their purses could not stretch unto, they paid in pensions out of their places, all which went to maintaine his numerous beggerly kindred; Bacon paid a Pension, Heath (Atturney) paid a Pension, Bargrave (Deane) paid a Pension, with many others: Nor was this any certaine rule, for present portions must be raised, for the Marriage of a poore Kitchin Maid, to be made a great Count esse; so Fotherby made Bishop of Sarum, paid 3500. l. and some also, worthy men, were preferred gratis, to blow up their Fames, and Trumpet forth their Noblenesse (as Tolson, a worthy man, paid nothing in Fine or Pension; after him, Davenant, in the same Bishoprick;) but these were but as Musick before every sceane; nor were fines or pensions certaine, but where men were rich, there Fines without reservation of rent; where poore, and such as would serve turnes, there Pensions; no Fines; so Weston, and many others: There were books of rates on all the Offices, Bishopricks, Deaneries in England, that could tell you what Fines, what Pensions, otherwise it had been impossible such a numerous kindred could have been maintained with the three Kingdomes Revenue.

Now was Bacon invested in his Office, and, within ten dayes after, the King goes to Scotland; Bacon instantly begins to believe himselfe King, lyes in the Kings Lodgings, gives audience in the great Banqueting House, makes all other Councellors attend his motions, with the same state the King used to come out, to give audience to Embassadours; when any other Councellour sate with him about the Kings affaires, would (if they sate neare him) bid them know their distance; upon which, Secretary Wynwood rose, went away, and would never sit more (under his encroached State) but instantly dispatcht one to the King, to desire him to make haste back, for even his very Seat was already usurped: At which, I remember, the King reading it unto us, both the King and we were very merry; and if Buckingham had sent him any Letters, would not vouchsafe the opening or reading them in publique, though, it was said, requiring speedy dispatch, nor would vouchsafe him any answer. In this posture he lived, untill he heard the King was returning, and began to beleeve the Play was almost at an end, he might personate a Kings part no longer, and therefore did againe re-invest himselfe with his old rags of basenesse, which were so tattered and poore at the Kings comming to Windsor; he attended two dayes at Buckinghams Chamber, being not admitted to any better place, then the roome where Trencher-scrapers and Lacquies attended, there sitting upon an old wooden chest, (amongst such as for his basenesse,He is scorned. were only fit companions, although the Honour of his place did merit farre more respect) with his Purse and Seale lying by him, on that chest; My selfe told a servant of my Lord of Buckinghams, it was a shame to see the Purse and Seale of so little value or esteeme in his Chamber, though the Carryer, without it, merited nothing but scorne, being worst among the basest. He told me they had command it must be so; after two dayes he had admittance: at first entrance he fell downe flat on his face at the Dukes foot, kissing it, vowing never to rise till he had his pardon, then was he againe reconciled, and since that time so very a slave to the Duke, and all that Family, that he durst not deny the command of the meanest of the kindred, nor oppose anything; by this you see, a base spirit is ever most concomitant with the proudest minde, and surely never so many brave parts, and so base and abject a spirit tenanted together in any one earthen Cottage, as in this one man: I shall not remember his basenesse, being out of his place, of pinning himselfe, for very scraps, on that Noble Gentleman, Sir Julius Caesars Hospitality, that at last he was forced to get the Kings Warrant to remove him out of his house; yet in his prosperity, the one being Chancellor, and the other Master of the Rolls, did so scorne and abuse him, as he would alter any thing the other did.

And now Buckingham having the Chancellor, Treasurer, and all great Officers his very slaves, swels in the height of pride, summons up all his Country kindred, the old Countesse providing a place for them to learne to carry themselves in a Court-like garbe, but because they could not learne the French Dances so soon as to be suitable to their gay Clothes, Country Dances (for their sakes only) must be the garbe of the Court, and none else must be used.

Then must these women-kindred be married to Earles, Earles eldest Sonnes, Barons, or chiefe Gentlemen of greatest estates, insomuch that the very female kindred were so numerous, as were sufficient to have peopled any Plantation; nay, very Kitchin-wenches were married to Knights eldest sonnes; yet, as if England had not matches enough in the Kingdome, they married like the house of Austria, in their own kindred, witnesse the Earle of Anglesea, married a cousen German, to whom he had given earnest before; so that King James, that naturally, in former times, hated women, had his Lodgings replenished with them, and all of the Kindred. The Brethren, great Earls. Little children did run up and downe the Kings Lodgings, like little Rabbitstarters about their boroughs: Here was a strange change, that the King, who formerly would not endure his Queen and children in his Lodgeings, now you would have judged, that none but women frequented them; nay, that was not all, but the kindred had all the houses about White-Hall (as if they had been Bulwarks and Flankers to that Cittadell.) But, above all the Miracles of those times, old Sir Anthony Ashley, who never loved any but boyes, yet he was snatcht up for a kinswoman, as if there had been a concurrency thorow the Kingdom, that those that naturally hated women, yet should love his kindred, as well as the King him.

And the very old Midwives of that kindred, flockt up for preferment, of which old Sir Christopher Perkins, a woman-hater, that never meant to marry, nay it was said, he had made a vow of Virginity, yet was coupled to an old Midwife, so that you see the greatnesse of this Favourite, who could force (by his power over the King) though against Nature.

But I must tell you, this got him much hatred, to raise brothers, and brother-in-laws to the highest rank of Nobility, which were not capable of the place, of scarce a Iustice of the Peace, only his brother Purbeck had more wit and honesty then all the kindred beside, and did keep him in some bounds of honesty and modesty, whilst he lived about him, and would speake plaine English to him: for which plainnesse, when they had no colour to put him from his brother, they practised to make him mad, and thought to bring that wicked stratagem to effect, by countenancing a wicked Woman, his Wife, the Lord Cookes Daughter against him, even in her base and lewd living.

And now is Purbeck mad indeed, and put from Court. Now, none great with Buckingham, but Bawds and Parasites, and such as humoured him in his unchaste pleasures; so that since his first being a pretty, harmlesse, affable Gentleman, he grew insolent, cruell, and a monster not to be endured.

And now is Williams, sometimes Chaplaine to the Lord Keeper Egerton, brought into play, made a privie-Councellor, Deane of Westminster, and of secret Councell with the King, he was also made Bishop of Lincolne, and was generally voyced at his first step, to marry Buckinghams Mother, who was in her husbands time, created a Countesse (he remaining still) a C. silly drunken sot) and this was the first president of this kinde ever known. Williams held her long in hand, and no doubt, in nature of her Confessor, was her secret friend, yet would not marry at present: which, afterwards, was cause of his downfall.

Then was there a Parliament summoned, in which, Bacon for his bribery and injustice, was thrust out, being closely prosecuted by one Morby a Woodmonger, and one Wrenham, formerly deeply censured in the Star-Chamber for accusing him of bribery and injustice; Bacon was by Parliament justly put out of his place, and but only for the Votes of the Bishops, had been degraded; the Bishops might have done better to have kept their voyces to have done themselves service at this time, but surely that, with some other injustice of theirs, had so filled up their measure of iniquity, that now Gods anger is kindled against them.

In Bacons place comes Williams, a man on purpose brought in at first to serve turnes, but in this place to doe that which none of the Layity could be found bad enough to undertake, whereupon this observation was made, that first, no Layman could be found so dishonest as a Clergy man; next, as Bacon the Father of this Bacon, did receive the seales from a Bishop, so a Bishop againe received them from a Bacon; and at this did the Lawyers fret, to have such a flower pulled out of their Garland.

This Williams, though he wanted much of his Predecessors abilities for the Law, yet did he equall him for learning and pride, and beyond him in the way of bribery, this man answering by Petitions, in which his servants had one part, himselfe another, and so was calculated to be worth to him & his servants 3000. l. per annum, by a new way never found out before.

And now being come to the height of his preferment, he did estrange himselfe from the company of the old Countesse, having much younger ware, who had keyes to his chamber to come to him, yet was there a necessity of keeping him in this place for a time, the Spanish Match being yet in chase, and if it succeeded, this man was to clap the great Seale (through his ignorance in the Lawes) to such things that none that understood the danger by knowing the Lawes, would venture upon, and for this designe was he at first brought in, (no Prince living knowing how to make use of men, better then King James.)

Now was also Suffolke turned out of his place of Lord Treasurer, and a fellow (of the same Batch that Williams was) brought into his place, Cranfield, that was the Projector, and never could get higher then that title in Somersets time▪ now marrying one of Buckinghams kindred, attained one of the highest Titles in the Kingdome; so that it was now generally said, that for pride and basenesse these two grea • places were never so suited, both of meane birth, both proud, only the one an excellent Scholler, and of great parts; the other, nothing but a pack of ignorance sodered together with impudence to raise him (besides his marriage in the lusty kindred.)

This Cranfield was a fellow of so meane a condition, as none but a poore spirited Nobility would have endured his perching on that high Tree of honour, to the dishonour of the Nobility, the disgrace of the Gentry, and not long after, to his owne dishonour, who was thrust out of the Lords House with this censure, that Thou Lionell, Earle of Middlesex, shalt never sit, or have voice more in this House of Peeres, and shalt pay for a fine to our Soveraigne Lord the King. 20000. l. leaving him still to over-top the Gentry. The Bishops kept him also from degrading, which I doe verily beleeve is one cause the Gentry will degrade them.

The Spanish Match,The Prince goes into Spaine. having been long in Treaty, and it being suspected now, that the Spaniard did juggle with the State in this, as they formerly did in a Match with that brave Prince Henry, and in truth, in all other things wherein any negotiation had been, only feeding the King with faire hopes, and faire words, yet foule deeds. Whether the King suspected any such matter, or any whimsey came in the braine of this great Favourite and Prince, to imitate the old stories of the Knights Erland, but agreed it was (it should seeme) between the Favourite and the Prince only (no one other so much as dreaming of any such adventure except Cottington, that the Prince must goe himselfe into Spaine: away they went under the borrowed names of Jack and Tom Smith, to the amazement of all wise men, only accompanied with Cottington, and some one or two more at most; taking their way by France, they had the Ports laid so, that none should follow them, or give any notice to the French Court, till they might get the start, &c. yet their wisdomes made them adventure to stay in the French Court, and looke on that Lady whom he after married, and there did this Mars imitate one of Prince Arthurs Knights, in seeking adventures through forraigne Princes territories; First beheld this French beauty, Mars vidit, visamque cupit, potiturque cupita: as in our discourse will afterward appear; from thence away to Spaine; but as the Journey was only plotted by young heads, so it was so childishly carried, that they escaped the French Kings Curriers very narrowly, but escape they did, and arrived safely in Spaine their wished Port, before either welcome, or expected, by our Embassadors, or that State.

Yet now must the best face bee put on, at all hands, that put their Grandees to new shifts, and our Embassadour the Earl of Bristoll to try his wit, for at that time was Sir Walter Aston also Embassador at Spaine, in all occurrences Aston complyed with the Prince and Duke, Bristol ran counter; and the Duke and Bristol hated each other mortally.

Bristol had the advantage of them there, as having the much better head-peice, and being more conversant and dear with that State, wholly complying with them, and surely had done them very acceptable services (and in this very Treaty was of the pack) Buckingham had the advantage of him in England (although the King did now hate Buckingham, yet was so awed that hee durst not discover it) Then Buckingham had all interest in his Successor by this journy, so that he laid a present and future foundation of his succeeding greatnesse.

For all his power and greatnesse Bristoll did not forbeare to put all scornes, affronts, and tricks on him, and Buckingham lay so open, as gave the other advantage enough by his lascivious carriage, and miscarriage. Amongst all his tricks, hee playes one so cunningly, that it cost him all the hair on his head, and put him to the dyet; for it should seem hee made court to Conde Olivares wife, a very handsom Lady; But it was so plotted betwixt the Lady, her Husband and Bristol, that instead of that beauty, he had a notorious S • ewsbird sent him, and surely, by reason of his said loose and vicious disposition; had ever the Match been really intended for our Prince, yet such a Companion or Guardian, was enough to have made that wary Nation, beleeve that hee had also been that way addicted; and so have frustrated the Marriage (that being a grave and sober people, now especially when conversed with by such great forraign ghests) but they wel observed the Prince himselfe to be of an extraordinary well staied temper.

But now, many Lords flockt over, and many Servants, that he might appear the Prince of England, and like himselfe, though hee came thither like a private person, many Treaties were, sometimes hope, sometimes dispair, sometimes great assurance, then all dasht againe, and however, his entertainment was as great as possible that State could afford; yet was his addresses to, and with, the Lady, such as rendred him meane, and a private person, rather then a Prince of that State that formerly had made Spaine feel the weight of their anger, and power; and was like a Servant, not a Suitor, for he never was admitted, but to stand bare-head in her presence, nor to talke with her, but in a full audience with much company.

At last, after many heats and cooles, many hopes, and despaires, the Prince wrote a letter to his Father of a desperate despaire, not only of not injoying his Lady, but of never more returning, with this passage, You must now, Sir, look upon my Sister and her children, forgetting ever you had such a Son, and never thinking more of me.

Now the folly of this voyage, plotted only by green heads, began to appear, many shewing much sorrow, many smiling at their sollies (and in truth glad in their hearts) and however the King was a cunning dissembler, and shewed much outward sorrow, as he did for Prince Henryes death, yet something was discerned, which made his Court beleeve little greife came neare his heart, for that hatred he bare to Buckingham long (as being satiated with him) and his adoring the rising Sunne, not looking after the Sunne setting, made the world beleeve hee would thinke it no ill bargaine to lose his Son, so Buckingham might bee lost also, for had he not been weary of Buckingham, he would never have adventured him in such a journey, all his Courtiers knew that very well.

And for a further illustration of his wearinesse of Buckingham, It appeared in the Parliament before, when the King gave so much way to his ruine, that Buckingham challenged him that hee did seeke his ruine, and being generally held as a lost man, the King (to make it appeare it was not so, although, as hereafter you shall understand, it was so, and that the King durst not avow his own act,) brought him off from that Parliament, but Buckingham hated the King ever afterwards.

The reason the King so hated Buckingham, (besides his being weary of him, for his now stalenesse, was his marriage, after which the Kings edge was ever taken off from all Favourites as well as him; yet this had so much the over awing power of him, that hee durst not make shew to affect any other,) there was one Inniossa a Spanish Embassador extraordinary here, beingan old Soldier and a gallant fellow, who thought that Buckingham did not give that respect to him was due to his own person, or to the person of so great a King whose person he represented; Inniossa therefore did as much scorn and slight Buckingham & the Prince whom he sound wholly governed by Buckingham; for now Buckingham had found, by many passages, the Kings desire to be rid of him, he made Court to the Prince, and so wrought himself into his affection, that Damon and Pythias were not more dear each to other, which by no means could the old King away with, nor in truth did any other like or approve of the Prince his poor spirit, fearing it foretold his future inclination, that could ever indure any familiarity with such an one, as had put such foul scorns and affronts on him in his time of greatnes with the Father: especially, such as called to minde the bravery of his brother, who hated the whole Family for their generall basenesse, although none of them had ever offended him in particular, as this man had done the Prince at two severall times, once, before an infinite concourse, by bidding him in plaine termes kisse his Arse; a second time, offering to strike him, saying in most undutiful terms, By God it shall not bee so, nor you shall not have it, lifting up his hand over his head with a Ballon-Bracer, that the Prince said, What, my Lord, I thinke you intend to strike me: The first of these audacious affronts was at Royston, the second at Greenwich, before about 400. people. Neither of which were to bee indured by a private person, but by a Prince from a private person, surely it shewed a much lesse spirit then should have been inherent to a Prince, and after this, to bee so deare with him, as to be governed by him all his life time, more then his Father was in the prime of his affection, I can give it no title meane enough; it had been worthy the Noble minde of a Prince to have forgotten such injuries, as never to have revenged them when he had been King, but never to have suffered him to have come neare his Court, to upbraid him with the sight of so much scorn, and that publickly offered him before: But at that time I well remember some Critticks in Court did not stick to read his future destiny.

This Inniossa being a brave daring Gentleman, used some speeches in the derogation of the Prince and Buckingham, as if they were dangerous to the old King; nay, Inniossa sent one Padro Macestria (a Spanish Jesuite, and a great States-man) to King James, to let him know, that he, (under confession) had found the King was by Buckingham, or by his procurement, to be killed, but whether by poyson, Pistoll, Dagger, &c. that he could not tell.

The King, after the hearing of this, was extream melancholly, and in that passion was found by Buckingham at his returne to him. The King, as soon as ever he espied him, said, Ah Stenny, Stenny, (for so he ever called him in familiarity,) wilt thou kill me? at which Buckingham started, and said, who, Sir, hath so abused you? at which the King sat silent; out went Buckingham, sretting and fuming, asked, who had been with the King in his absence? It was told him Padro Macestria, then who brought him to the King? it was replyed, the Earl of Kelly; then flew Buckingham on him, to know how he durst bring any one in to the King in his absence, or without his licence? Kelly stood up close to him (for you must know, Kelly was the truest alarum to give warning of the downefall of a Favourite, of any in the Court) and knew his power could doe him no hurt with the King, in present; although it utterly cast him out of all favor from the King in future.

Then Buckingham questioned Padro Macestria, but that quarrel was interposed and undertook by Inniossa, who told him he would maintaine him a Traytor, and that, were his Masters person off him; he was a Chivalier, and better borne then himselfe, and would make it good on him with his Sword.

Which high comparison (though I beleeve true enough) together with his generous Charge and Challenge, Buckingham for that time swallowed, and only thought of this shift to vindicate himselfe on Inniossa, which was, to cause the Prince to write a Letter of complaint to the King of Spaine, for abusing him and Buckingham; but the King of Spaine returned the Letter in a kind of scorne, to Inniossa, not as blaming him, but rather commending him; and Inniossa in scorne sent it to the Prince, as if he should say, there is your Letter to wipe—, which is all it is fit for.

Now have you heard what made the King hate Buckingham, you shal also hear the reason of Buckinghams extreame hatred to the King, which was beleived the cause of his so speedy death. Yelverton, a very faithful servant to the King, and his Atturney General, and no lesse affectionate to Somerset, being formerly raised by him without any seeking of his, or so much as within his thought, insomuch as to expresse his love to Somerset, he desired to lay downe that great place, rather then aggravate, as his place required, against him. This man, as well out of his faithfulnesse to the King, as affection to Somerset, was made choyce of, to worke the downefall of Buckingham, in which he apparently shewed himselfe. But Buckingham, as I told you before, out of the Kings feare, that durst not maintaine his owne designe, but left his Instruments to the mercy of Buckinghams tyranny, being once gotten out of the toile, like a chased Boare, foamed, and bit at all came neare him, and amongst them first fastned on Yelverton, put him out of his place, and committed him close Prisoner to the Tower; Yelverton having shewed himselfe so faithfull to his Master, and he againe so unfaithfull to him, to leave him to undergo the whole burden of Buckinghams fury, did fly out in some passion before Sir Allen Appesly, then Lieutenant of the Tower, and Buckinghams great creature.

Appesly telling the Duke of some passages in his passion, the Duke one night about 12. a clock came in a a disguise, and with the Lieutenant only, entred Yelvertons longing, Yelverton at first sight started, verily beleeving, he came in that manner to murther him; yet, at last recollected himselfe, and said: My Lord, have you the Kings Warrant for this? the Duke said, no; then said Yelverton, how dare you enter a close prisoners lodging? it is as much as your life is worth: And assure your selfe Master Lieutenant, the King shall know of this, and you must answer it. My Lord said, I come to you (as a friend, though, formerly, I confesse, upon just cause, your mortall enemy;) only to aske you but two questions, which if you will resolve me, I vow to be a greater friend now then ever an enemy, and can, and will restore you foure-fold: Yelverton told him, if they were such as he might, hee would.

The first he asked was, What wrong he had ever done him, that he so greedily thirsted after his blood? Yelverton replyed, never any, but I was set on by a power that I could not withstand, to doe what I did; he asked him by whom? by the King your Master, said he, who hates you more then any man living, which you might well understand, when in his Speech to the Parliament, he said, he would not spare any (no not any that were dearest to him, or lay in his bosome) by which he pointed them to you.

Wel, said Buckingham, I see you have dealt like a Friend with me, by many other concurrences as well as by this; give me your hand, henceforth you are my friend, and I am yours; and I will raise you highet then I have cast you downe: which he had made good, had Yelverton lived to have injoyed it, for he was instantly released, and the next preferment he gratified him with was a Judges place, and he had been Lord Keeper, had not death prevented it. And if there were no other reason, but his change from a mortall enemy to so firme a friend, this were sufficient to confirme the truth of this story. But the Authour had this from Yelvertons owne relation, and cannot commend Yelverton, because it is verily beleeved this hastened the Kings death.

Now have you heard the true causes of Buckinghams hatred to the King, and the Kings to Buckingham, the King having the more power to revenge, had the lesse courage; Buckingham lesse power, but more courage, sharpened with revenge: And however the World did beleeve the Kings inclination was out of a religious ground, that he might not revenge, yet it was no other but a cowardly disposition that dust not adventure; But although the King lost his opportunity on Buckingham, yet the black plaister and powder did shew Buckingham lost not his on the King; and that it was no fiction but a reallity, that Padro Macestria had formerly told the King.

And now to returne from this digression, which is not impertinent, (besides a great secret,) the Prince returnes from Spaine, contrary to expectation; in which the wisdome and gravity of the Spaniard failed him, especially if they did beleeve Padro Macestria (besides nature could not long support the old King) and then the Spaniard might have made no little advantage by injoying such a pledge: But they have confessed their errour, yet doe palliate it with having the Prince his faith and his proxie left with Digby, and got thence with the very same tricke Sir Francis Michell said, he got out of the Inquisition at Rome.

Now is all the fault laid on Digbyes false play and unfaithfulnesse to his Master, and combining with the Spaniard, and by this peece of service expressing his hatred to the Spaniard for his owne ends (the Subjects of England having ever naturally hated them) Buckingham, the most hated man then living, from an accused man in the former Parliament, came to be the very darling of this Parliament, and a favourite to the whole Kingdome, which after King James his death he as soone lost againe, (so inconstant are the multitude.)

In the Banquetting-house before both Houses of Parliament, is Buckingham to give an account of this voyage, which he did at large, and to every full point as a further attestation, he saith, how say you Sir? to which the Prince answered, I, yea, or yes, and through all his discourse laboured to make Bristoll as hatefull to this Parliament, as himselfe had been to the former: which, had these things delivered by him, and attested by the Prince, been truths; he had justly deserved death, the accusations were foule, and little lesse then treason, without any legislative power.

Digby had some friends who instantly sent this Declaration into Spaine, Digby acquaints that King, takes his leave of him for England: that King sets his danger before him, offers if he will stay with him, seeing it is for his sake he is like to suffer, he would make him much greater in Honour and fortune then his Master can doe; Digby gives him thankes, but sayes, he served so just a Master that would not condemne him unheard, and should he, yet he had much rather suffer under innocency, then lye under the imputation of a false accusation of a fugitive, and Traytor, for the highest preferment in the World.

Away therefore comes he, puts himselfe into a desperate passage, least the Parliament should have been dissolved before his comming, and so no place or meanes left him for his defence, but must lye under those false calumnies, and was here (as the Prince came into Spaine) sooner then either looked for, or welcome.

Into the Parliament comes he, with his Hat full of papers, where he puts himselfe upon this point, that if there were one syllable true that Buckingham had delivered, if this (holding up a Paper in his hand) be a true copy; I will yeeld my selfe guilty of all treasons can be laid to my charge, and said, these papers, (pointing to his Hat) shall make it manifest: Besides, some of them shall make Buckingham appeare a very monster in his lascivious carriages, too too unchaste for the eares of this Honourable Assembly: Bristoll was instantly committed close prisoner to the Tower for a contempt; the next day hee was riding through Cheap-side in his Coach, by which it appeares Buckinghams power was in: the wane with his old Master, his relation and accusation being scandalous and false; nor ever durst hee bring Bristol to any further tryall.

Whether this wound was deeper given by Bristol to Buckingham, or the Prince, I will leave to the reader to judge, and will not my selfe determine; And how Bristol hath since stood in favour with the Prince, since he was King, may give a conjecture, that he tooke it as a wound to himselfe, I am sure it was an ill omen, and hath since given him lesse credit with his Subjects.

And in this Parliament doth Buckingham by his under-hand Ministers and Agents, Cranfield accused in parliament accuse Cranfield the Lord Treasurer, in which the Prince also shewes himselfe: Cranfield was so hated a fellow for his insolency, that a small accusation would serve the turne, as this truly was, had his care of expending the Kings Treasure been out of a true zeale: for it should seeme that the Prince sending for monies, Cranfield restrained his Expresse, using some words, that the journey it selfe was foolishly undertaken, and now must be maintained by prodigality, in which the Revenue of the Kingdom would not satisfie their vast expences; if this had been spoken out of a Noble minde, or out of that feeling he had of the Kingdomes misery (as being Treasurer he ought to have done) had he fallen, it had been with honour and a generall compassion, but being spoken out of the pride and insolency of his owne heart, whose minde was ever so base, as never to discerne what Honour was, nor ever had he any other inherent Honour then what in his Apprentiship he raked out of the Kennel; besides it was knowne to be out of hatred, that he was not of councell in the undertaking, he then looking at himselfe as the only States-man of all the Councell: He fell without pitty, and with much scorne, as I formerly set downe; yet left in a higher estate, and better condition then so worthlesse a fellow, and base Projector deserved, yet afterwards hee was againe questioned upon his accounts: But all this was nothing, himselfe, and his Posterity being left Peeres of the Realme.

In this case was the Prince a principall actour, and did duly keep the earliest houres to sit in that Parliament, where, then he discerned so much juggling even to serve his owne ends on Cranfield, that it was not much to be wondred at, being come to be King, he did not affect them: And it was not well that a Prince should shew so much spleen, though Cranfield deserved any ill could be cast on him, and who knowes whether God doth now punish by Tallion Law, to call his owne sin to remembrance, and to repent?

In this place I hold it not unfit to shew the Reader how the King hath ever been abused, and would be abused, by over-much credulity, in the treaty of Spaine for marriages, as well as in all other Negotiations.

You shall now perceive how the King was abused in this treaty, which was an error inexcusable, in himselfe and whole Councell. The Italians having a Proverbe, He that deceives me once, its his fault, but if twice, its my fault: this second time therefore could not but be the only fault of the King and Councell.

In Prince Henry his life time, the King had a little man, but a very great and wise Counsellour, his Secretary of State, little Salisbury, that great States-man, who did inherit all his Fathers wisdome, as well as his Offices, and the sonne came little short of the father, who was held the greatest States-man in the world, of his time. It is true, that one State may abuse another, but, not to finde out the abuse, is an unpardonable fault in any Statesman.

There was a treaty in the like case for Prince Henry, Salisbury instantly discovered the juggling before any other did thinke of any, for although it went forward currently, yet did Salisbury so put the Duke of Lerma unto it, that either it must be so, or they must confesse their juggling.

The Duke of Lerma denyed that ever there had been any treaty, or any intention from that State; Salisbury sent for the Embassadour to a full Councell, told him how hee had abused the King & State, about a treaty for Marriage, which he had no Commission for; that therefore he was lyable to the Lawes of our Kingdome; for where any Embassadour doth abuse a State by their Mrs. Commission, then the servant was freed; but without Commission, was culpable and lyable to be punished by the Lawes of that State, as being disavowed to be servant to the King his Master: The Embassadour answered gravely, he did not understand the cause of his comming, therefore was then unprepared to give any answer, but on Monday he would againe come, this being Saturday, and give his answer. On Monday he comes, begins with these words, My soule is my Gods, my life my Masters, my reputation my owne, I will not forfeit the first and last, to preserve the second; Then layes downe his Commission, and Letters of instruction, under the Duke of Lerma's owne hand: he acquitted himselfe honestly to this State, yet lost his owne, being instantly sent for home, where he lived and dyed in disgrace. Here was Legatus vir bonus peregrè missus, sed non ad mentiendum reipublicae causa: And had we had as honest and good Statesmen, in after times (as Salisbury was, and so demonstrated himselfe in this weighty Affaire) this State could not have been so abused in all Treaties.

By this you see the advantage and benefit of one wise Counsellour in a whole State; and although Solomon say, By the multitude of Counsellors doth a kingdome flourish, yet surely he intended they should be wise men that are Counsellours; for we had such a multitude of Counsellours, that a longer table, and a larger Counsell-chamber was provided, yet our State was so far from flourishing, that it had been almost utterly destroyed; this was the last Statesman worthy of that name; and now are the ancient stock of Statesmen decayed, and with them all our honour and glory.

I shall now bring my Story to an end, as I shall this Kings life; although I have made some digressions, yet all pertinent to the discourse of this Kings reigne.

He now goes to his last Hunting journey, I meane the last of the yeare, (as wel as of his life) which he ever ended in Lent; and was seized on by an ordinary and moderate Tertian Ague, which at that season, according to the Proverb, was Physick for a King, but it proved not so to him; and poore King, what was but Physick to any other, was made mortall to him! yet not the Ague, as himselfe confessed to a servant of his now living, who cryed, courage Sir, this is but a small fit, the next will be none at all, at which he most earnestly looked, and said, Ah, it is not the Ague afflicteth me, but the black plaister and powder given me, and laid to my stomack; and in truth, the plaister so tormented him, that he was glad to have it pulled off, & with it the skin also; nor was it faire dealing, if he had faire play (which himselfe suspected) often saying to Montgomery, whom he trusted above all men, in his sicknesse, for Gods sake, looke I have faire play) to bring in an Emprick, to apply any Medicines, whilst those Physitians appointed to attend him, were at dinner; nor could any but Buckingham answer it with lesse then his life at that present, as he had the next Parliament, had it not been dissolved upon the very questioning him for the Kings death, and all those that prosecuted him, utterly disgraced and banished the Court.

Buckingham comming into the Kings Chamber, even when he was at the point of death, and an honest servant of the Kings crying: Ah my Lord, you have undone us, all his poore servants, although you are so well provided you need not care: At which, Buckingham kickt at him, who caught his foot, and made his head first come to ground, where Buckingham presently rising, run to the dying Kings bed side, and cryed, Justice, Sir, I am abused by your servant, and wrongfully accused; at which the poore King (become by that time speechlesse) mournfully fixed his eies on him, as who would have said, not wrongfully.

It were worth the knowledge, what his confession was, or what other expressions he made of himselfe, or any other; but that was only known to the dead Arch-Bishop Abbot, and the Bishop Williams then also Lord Keeper, and it was thought Williams had blabbed something which incensed the Kings anger, and Buckinghams hatred so much against him, that the losse of his place could not be expiatory sufficient, but his utter ruine must be determined, and that not upon any knowne crime, but upon circumstances, aud examinations, to pick out faults, committed in his whole life time; but his greatest crime for the present, (no question) was lapsus linguae, but quod defertur non aufertur, for although he escaped by the calme of that Parliament, yet is he more ruined by this Parliament, and his owne folly; and truly we may observe the just Judgement of God on him, for flying from the Parliament his protector, to give wicked counsell to the King, his former prosecutor.

And now have I brought this great Kings Reigne to an end, in a volant discourse, and shall give you his Character in briefe, and so leave him in peace after his life, who was stiled the King of peace in his life.