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[Illustration: _Harl. MS., Brit. Mus., N^o. 5353, fo. 111_]

G. F. TUPPER, LITHOG: LONDON. 1868.

  DIARY
  OF
  JOHN MANNINGHAM,

  OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE,
  AND OF BRADBOURNE, KENT, BARRISTER-AT-LAW,

  1602-1603.

  EDITED FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT BY
  JOHN BRUCE, ESQ.,

  AND PRESENTED TO THE CAMDEN SOCIETY BY
  WILLIAM TITE, ESQ., M.P., F.R.S., F.S.A.,
  PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY.

  WESTMINSTER:
  PRINTED BY J. B. NICHOLS AND SONS.

  M.DCCC.LX.VIII

  WESTMINSTER:
  J. B. NICHOLS AND SONS, PRINTERS,
  25, PARLIAMENT STREET.

  TO
  THE COUNCIL AND MEMBERS
  OF
  THE CAMDEN SOCIETY.

GENTLEMEN,

When you did me the honour to appoint me President of your most useful
Society as the successor of the Marquess Camden, I felt anxious to
express my sense of that honour by some appropriate acknowledgment.

I at first thought of printing a MS. from my own library, but, not
finding one that seemed exactly suitable, in my difficulty I applied to
my old and valued friend Mr. Bruce, and he pointed out to me
Manningham's Diary in the British Museum as possessing a varied interest
in the literary world which was likely to commend it to your notice. I
willingly adopted his suggestion; and I owe to him my sincere
acknowledgments for the pains he has bestowed in seeing the work through
the press, and in prefacing it with an interesting essay.

I have now to offer you this copy of Manningham's little book, and to
assure you how sincerely I am

Your obedient and obliged servant,

  WILLIAM TITE.
  42, Lowndes Square,
  3rd October, 1868.

PREFACE.

The original of MANNINGHAM'S DIARY, which is here printed, is No. 5353
in the Harleian collection of MSS. in the British Museum. It is a
diminutive 12mo. volume, measuring not quite six inches by four, and
containing 133 leaves. The handwriting, of which an admirable
representation is given in the fac-simile prefixed, is small, and in the
main extremely legible; yet in some few places, from haste in the
writer, from corrections, from blotting, from the effects of time, and
from other obvious causes, difficulties have occurred in a word or two,
which, even with the assistance of gentlemen most skilful in reading the
old hands, have not been entirely overcome. The few instances in which
the collater has been baffled are indicated by marks of doubt.

The first historical writer who noticed this little volume for a
literary purpose was Mr. John Payne Collier. In his Annals of the Stage,
published in 1831 (i. 320), Mr. Collier quoted from this Diary various
passages connected with his special subject, and drew attention to the
principal personal facts disclosed by the writer respecting himself,
namely, that he had many relations in Kent, and had probably been a
member of the Middle Temple.

The late Mr. Joseph Hunter was the next writer who used the work for an
historical purpose.[1] With his well-known fondness for genealogical
inquiries he applied himself to determine who the writer was whom Mr.
Collier had designated merely as a barrister. In this inquiry Mr. Hunter
was completely successful. Pursuing the clue given by the mention of
relationships in Kent in the various ways which would occur to a person
skilled in such investigations, Mr. Hunter fell upon a track in which
coincidences between the facts stated in the MS. and those elicited by
his own researches followed one another so rapidly as in the end to
leave not even the shadow of a doubt that the desired result had been
obtained.

    [Footnote 1: See his Illustrations of Shakespeare, i. 365.]

We shall briefly indicate the course by which Mr. Hunter arrived at his
conclusions. It looks easy enough after the end has been attained, but
it will be borne in mind that inquiries of this kind are extremely
discursive. The statement of a few leading facts upon the establishment
of which the final conclusion is arrived at, gives no idea of the time
lost in investigations which are merely tentative. In all such inquiries
we are soon reminded of the pretty passages which, after turnings and
windings almost _ad libitum_, are ultimately found to lead to nothing.

Besides cousins of at least seven different names who are alluded to by
the Diarist, several of them in connection with Canterbury, Sandwich,
and Godmersham, there is one whom he specially commemorates as "my
cousin in Kent" (p. 19), and whom he frequently vouches by that
designation, or merely as his cousin, as his authority for information
which he chronicles. This cousin was evidently the writer's most
important connection--the great man of the family. To visit him and his
somewhat wayward second wife was the principal object of the Diarist's
journeys into Kent. It also appears that this cousin was a man advanced
in life,--roughly stated to be 62 years of age in March 1602-3, and that
he resided at a place called Bradbourne, in the neighbourhood of
Maidstone. This last fact led directly to the identification desired.

Bradbourne was easily found. It has been for centuries a family seat in
the parish of East Malling. Hasted has represented the house in one of
his pictorial illustrations pretty much as it yet exists. It has been
shorn indeed of many of the noble trees, of the deer, and of some of the
other aristocratic adornments with which the county historian surrounded
it, but it still stands a stately old-fashioned red-brick mansion,
probably of the date of the reign of Queen Anne. Long before that period
the same spot was occupied by a previous residence of a county family.
From the time of the Protectorate it has belonged to a branch of the old
Kentish stock, the Twysdens; and before they purchased it--"in the reign
of Queen Elizabeth," as Hasted remarks[2]--"it was in the possession of
a family named Manningham."--Manningham! Our diarist slightly alludes to
a cousin of that name, "G. Manningham, deceased."[3] The clue was vague,
but at that little chink there entered light sufficient to guide the
researches of an antiquary.

    [Footnote 2: Vol. ii. p. 215, ed. 1782.]

    [Footnote 3: P. 108.]

The inscriptions on the older monuments in East Malling church are
printed in Thorpe's _Registrum Roffense_.[4] To them Mr. Hunter had
recourse, and with good success. Amongst them he found one upon a
monument[5] still standing on the north side of the chancel of the
church to a Richard Manningham, evidently a person of importance in that
neighbourhood. It is not stated in the inscription that he was the
owner of Bradbourne, but he lived at the time when our author paid his
visits thither, and his age, as given on the monument, although not
coincident with that stated by the Diarist,--for the monument declares
that Richard Manningham died on the 25th April, 1611, in his 72nd
year,--was sufficiently near to stimulate to further inquiries. But
without following Mr. Hunter step by step it will be enough to state
that from the inscription he went to Doctors' Commons, where, under the
vicious system of mismanagement which then prevailed, he was one of the
favoured two or three who were permitted to use the testamentary
records, whilst all other inquirers were excluded with a most offensive
disregard of courtesy. The will of Richard Manningham helped on the
inquiry very considerably. It was further advanced by an heraldic
Visitation of Kent, and was finally and triumphantly concluded by an
inspection of the register-books of the Middle Temple.

    [Footnote 4: Lond. 1769, fol. p. 793.]

    [Footnote 5: The inscription is surmounted by a bust of singular
    coarseness, evidently the work of some country sculptor, and
    executed in the worst taste and manner.]

Without derogating in the slightest degree from the merit of Mr.
Hunter's investigations, or desiring to deprive his memory of one atom
of the credit which attaches to it on that account, we prefer to state
the facts respecting the Manninghams in words of our own, which will
enable us to weave into the narrative some additions to the results of
Mr. Hunter's inquiries.

About the middle of the sixteenth century the Manninghams were a
numerous family of the middle class,[6] branches of which were scattered
about in various parts of England. The Richard Manningham of the
monument at East Malling was born at St. Alban's; Robert Manningham,
descended from a stock which removed out of Bedfordshire into
Cambridgeshire, lived and died at Fen Drayton in that county; George
Manningham dwelt in Kent, and from the marriages of his female
descendants in that county there probably sprang the numerous cousinred
of the family to which we have already alluded. Their _status_ in Kent
before Richard Manningham settled at Bradbourne may be inferred from one
fact which appears in the Diary, namely, that George Manningham was
bound as surety with William Somner, father of the well known antiquary
of Canterbury, for the father's performance of the duties of the
registrarship of the Ecclesiastical Court, in which office he preceded
his son.

    [Footnote 6: "_Honestâ natus familiâ_" are the words of the
    inscription to Richard Manningham, the very words used also as
    descriptive of the descent of Sir Thomas More on his monument in
    Chelsea church; _familiâ non celebri sed honestâ natus_. (Faulkner's
    Chelsea, i. 207.)]

Richard, Robert, and George Manningham are all stated to have been
relations, and probably they all stood about upon a par in worldly
circumstances, but Richard pursued a way of life which enabled him to
shoot ahead of all the members of his family. Of his youth we have no
particulars, but he was well educated even according to present notions.
He united an acquaintance with modern languages to the share of
classical knowledge taught in our old grammar-schools, and is
commemorated as having spoken and written Latin, French, and Dutch, with
freedom and elegance, and as having been able at the age of sixty-two to
repeat _memoriter_ almost the whole of the first and second books of the
Æneid.

Brought up to some branch of commerce, he was a member of the Mercers'
Company of London, and in his business days resided in the metropolis,
but age found him with a competency, and brought with it some customary
infirmities. He retired from London, purchased the quiet sheltered
Bradbourne, and passed the evening of his days in occupations in which
literature bore a considerable share.

He was twice married; the first time to a native of Holland, a family
connection of the Lady Palavicini, afterwards wife of Sir Oliver
Cromwell, the uncle of the future Protector.[7] This marriage was a
happy one. The lady survived the purchase of Bradbourne,[8] and was
buried in the church of East Malling. Richard Manningham's second match
was with a Kentish widow. The traces we find of her in the Diary do not
leave an impression that she added much to her husband's happiness. She
is not alluded to in his will. We may therefore conclude that she died
between 1602 and 1611.[9] There is no mention of issue by either
marriage.

    [Footnote 7: Diary, pp. 49, 51.]

    [Footnote 8: The last notice we have of her is under the date of
    1595, when her husband, "at her request and for her sake," lent her
    kinsmen, Arnold Verbeck, Abraham Verbeck, and Goris Besselles,
    merchant-strangers, 400_l._ which remained due with all interest
    upon it up to the 21st January 1611-12, the date of his will. He
    forgave his debtors the amount, provided they paid 40_l._ a piece to
    Margarita and Susanna Verbeck, daughters of Arnold, and to the
    testator's niece Janeken Vermeren, daughter of his first wife's
    sister, within twelve months after his decease.]

    [Footnote 9: The registers of East Malling do not begin until 1640.
    We beg warmly to acknowledge our obligations to the Rev. W. L.
    Wigan, the rector, who in the kindest manner searched from 1640 to
    1660 for entries relating to the Manninghams, but without finding
    anything about them.]

Childless, solitary, and infirm, Richard Manningham was in no degree
misanthropic. Out of his abundance he applied considerable sums in
charity, and for the benefit of his kindred, and at an early period
looked around for a Manningham who might inherit the principal portion
of his property and carry on his name. His choice fell upon John
Manningham, a son of Robert of Fen Drayton, and his wife Joan, a
daughter of John Fisher of Bledlow in the county of Bedford. That person
is our Diarist.

Richard Manningham carried out the obligations of this adoption in the
most liberal way. It is obvious from the Diary that John Manningham,
whom Richard Manningham designated by the several titles of "cousin,"
"kinsman," and "son in love," received a generous education of the best
kind. He was intended for the practice of the law, and on the 16th
March, 1597-8, was entered of the Middle Temple, as the son and heir of
Robert Manningham of Fen Drayton, gentleman, deceased. John Chapman,
probably the same person who is mentioned in the Diary as one of the
cousins who lived at Godmersham,[10] and John Hoskyns, were the members
of the Inn who were his sureties upon his admission.

    [Footnote 10: Diary, pp. 108, 111.]

On the 7th June 1605, having kept his exercises and been on the books
for the needful seven years, he was called to the degree of an utter
barrister; whether afterwards advanced to the dignity of being permitted
to plead in actual causes in court does not appear.

Whilst in the Temple he had for his chamber-fellow Edward Curle, son
of William Curle, a retainer of Sir Robert Cecil, who procured him to
be appointed one of the auditors of the Court of Wards. Several
persons of this family are quoted in the Diary, and the close
relationship of chamber-fellow ripened not merely into lasting
friendship with Edward Curle, and with his brother Walter, who
afterwards became Bishop of Winchester, but into affection towards
their sister Anne. John Manningham and Anne Curle were married
probably about 1607. A son was born to them in 1608, who was named
Richard after the _quasi_-grandfather at Bradbourne. Two other sons
were subsequently named John and Walter, and three daughters, Susanna,
Anne, and Elizabeth. Where John Manningham lived after he quitted the
Temple, whether in London with a view to practice at the Bar, at
Hatfield which was the place of residence of the Curles, or at
Bradbourne with his "father in love," then a second time a widower,
does not appear.

On the 3rd January 1609-10, the old merchant proved the reality of his
assumed fatherhood by executing a deed of gift to John Manningham of the
mansion-house of Bradbourne and the lands surrounding it in East
Malling, and two years afterwards, on the 21st January, being, as he
states, "in tolerable health of body in regard of mine age and
infirmities," he made his will. It confirmed, "if needful," the deed of
gift to John Manningham, appointed him sole executor, and with some
slight exceptions and the charge of a considerable number of legacies,
most of them tokens of remembrance, gave him all the residue of his
property. The multitude of the old man's legacies and not less so their
character tell of his continuing interest in the connections of his past
life. They read like the last utterances of a warm and affectionate
spirit casting back its glance upon those from whom it was about to
part; whilst his adjuration to his adopted son to discharge the amounts
with punctuality, although deformed by the verbiage of legal formality,
and smacking a little of the mercantile estimate of the indispensable
importance of payment on the very day, is not devoid of real solemnity.
Omitting some of the tautologous expressions it reads thus:--"I charge
John Manningham, by all the love and duty which he oweth me, for all my
love and liberality which I have always borne [to] him and his
heretofore, but chiefly in this my will, that he pay every legacy within
six months after my death, those excepted that are appointed to be paid
at certain days, and those to be duly paid at their days appointed, as
my trust is in him, and as he will answer afore God and me at the latter
day!" Nor is the pious close of the document without a share of true
impressiveness:--"Having thus, I thank God, finished my will, and set an
order in my worldly affairs, I will henceforward await God's will to
depart hence in peace, most humbly beseeching him that when the day of
my dissolution shall be come, I may by his grace be armed with a true
and lively faith, firm hope, and constant patience, and be ready to
forsake all to go to my blessed Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ. Amen,
good Lord!"

He had not long to wait. His will was dated, as we have remarked, on the
21st January, 1611-12. On the 25th of the following April,[11] Richard
Manningham entered into his rest, and John Manningham into possession
as adopted heir. On the following 1st of May he proved the will of his
"father in love" at Doctors' Commons.

    [Footnote 11: The year 1611, given on the monument as that of the
    death, is contradicted by the date of the will and other
    circumstances. It should have been 1612.]

The few particulars we have been able to gather of the course of this
family after the death of Richard Manningham are little more than a
brief register of dates. On the 16th April 1617, William Curle the
father died. He was interred in Hatfield church, where a monument
commemorates his fidelity as a public officer, his good-fortune in his
children and friends, and his calm and happy death.[12]

    [Footnote 12: "_Verâ fide Christianâ_" are the words of the epitaph,
    which were deemed an authority by the Index-maker for Clutterbuck's
    Hertfordshire, ii. 370, for entering a "Christiana Curle" in his
    list of names.]

In 1619, John Philipot, York Herald, made a Visitation for Kent as
Deputy for Camden, the Clarencieux. On this occasion John Manningham
registered his arms and pedigree. It is observable that he did not
introduce into it the descent of his cousin Richard Manningham from
their common ancestor, nor even his name. If the Visitation may be
depended upon we may infer that between the time when the return was
made and the 21st January 1621-2, when John Manningham made his own
will, he lost his daughter Anne by death, and his youngest son, to whom
he gave the name of his brother-in-law Walter, was born. Before the same
day his other brother-in-law and chamber-fellow Edward Curle had also
died. The last trace we have found of him is in 1613.

In the will of John Manningham to which we have just alluded, and which
it will be observed was dated like that of his predecessor on a 21st
January, he described himself as of "East Malling, esquire," and devised
Bradbourne and all the lands derived from his "late dear cousin and
father in love" Richard Manningham, "who for ever," he remarks, "is
gratefully to be remembered by me and mine," to his widow for life and
after her decease entailed the same on his three sons in succession. He
gave to his daughter Susanna a marriage portion of 300_l._; to
Elizabeth, 250_l._; to the little Benjamin of his flock, the young
Walter, anything but a Benjamin's share of 100_l._; and to his executors
20 nobles a piece; all the rest of his personalty he divided between his
widow and his eldest son. He named as executors Dr. Walter Curle, who
had then ascended upon the ladder of preferment to the Deanery of
Lichfield, and John Manningham's cousin, Dr. William Roberts of Enfield.
The Will was proved on the 4th December, 1622, by Dr. Curle alone, Dr.
Roberts having renounced.

Two further facts bring to an end the brief glimmerings we have been
able to discover respecting the third generation of the Manninghams at
Bradbourne.

Bishop Walter Curle made his will on the 15th March 1646-7, and left to
his nephew and godson Walter Manningham a sum of 50_l._ To the boy's
mother--"my loving sister Mrs. Anne Manningham," the Bishop left "a
piece of plate of twenty ounces."[13]

    [Footnote 13: See Lansd. MS. No. 985.]

Nine years afterwards the "loving sister" had followed the Bishop into
the better land. Where she was buried does not appear, certainly not at
East Malling. Bradbourne then fell to the second Richard Manningham, who
sold it in 1656 to Mr. Justice Twysden, in whose family it still
remains. Thus drops the curtain upon the connexion of the Manninghams
with East Malling.

Other persons of the same name appear in the succeeding century, one on
the episcopal bench as Bishop of Chichester, from 1709 to 1722, and his
son Sir Richard Manningham as a distinguished physician and discoverer
of the fraud of Mary Tofts the rabbit-breeder, but their connexion with
the subjects of our inquiry does not very clearly appear.

Turn we now from the Diarist and his family to the Diary. It was written
by John Manningham whilst a student in the Middle Temple, and runs
through the year 1602 down to April in 1603, Occasionally, as we have
remarked in one of our notes, some few of the entries are out of
chronological order, either from mistake of the binder or irregularity
of the Diarist. In some cases it clearly arose from the habit of the
latter of making his entries in any part of the book where there
happened to be a vacant space. The consequences are of so little moment
that we have thought it best in printing to follow the order of the
original MS. as it now stands.

Chronological sequence is the less important as the book is scarcely
what is generally understood by a Diary. It is rather a note-book in
which the writer has jotted down from time to time his impressions of
whatever he chanced to hear, read, or see, or whatever he desired to
preserve in his memory. The result is a curious patchwork. Anecdotes,
witticisms, aphoristic expressions, gossip, rumours, extracts from
books, large notes of sermons, occasional memoranda of journeys into
Kent and Huntingdonshire, with some little personal matter of the true
Diary kind, are all thrown together into a miscellany of odds and ends.

Our Diarist could not have lived in a better place than in an Inn of
Court for the compilation of such a book. The common dinner and the
common supper, the less formal gatherings at the buttery-bar and around
the hall fire, and in the summer time the exercise taken in the pleasant
garden--an indispensable accompaniment of an Inn of Court--brought
together multitudes of the "unbaked and doughy youth of the nation,"
full of life and spirit, most of them under training for legal practice
or public business, and sparkling with all the freshness and
volatility, the exuberance and glow which distinguish the opening of
young wits. This was the very place to furnish materials for such a
note-book as we have described. Among such companions the _bon mot_ of
the bar, the scandal of the Court, the tittle-tattle of the town, were
the very _pabulum_ of their daily conversation. A witty sarcasm would
tell among students not "past the bounds of freakish youth" with
infinite effect, and it mattered little--such was the universal freedom
of language and manners in those days--how literal the expression, or to
what kind of subject it related. Perhaps even additional zest was given
to a pithy speech by its want of reserve in relation to transactions
which we have come to regard as better left untalked about. Neither was
there found any greater difficulty in writing about such matters than in
speaking of them. The line of stars which occasionally will be found
stretching across our page indicates the occurrence of passages which
principally on this ground we have deemed it unadvisable to print.

The time in which our Diarist wrote was distinguished by one event of
surpassing interest--the death of the great Queen who had ruled the
country for more than forty years. In reference to that event he
possessed peculiar opportunities of acquiring information, and what he
has told us is essentially of historical authority. His channel of
communication with the Court was Dr. Henry Parry, subsequently Bishop of
Gloucester and afterwards of Worcester, at that time one of her
Majesty's chaplains and on duty in that character at the Queen's death.
On the 23rd March 1602-3, the rumours respecting her Majesty's health
were most alarming. The public were even doubtful whether she was
actually alive. In satisfaction of his curiosity our Diarist proceeded
to the palace at Richmond, where the great business was in progress. He
found assembled there the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Keeper,
and others of the highest official dignitaries. The Queen still lived,
and the ordinary daily religious services were still kept up within the
sombre palace. Dr. Parry preached before the assembled visitors, and our
Diarist was permitted to be one of the audience. The sermon was as
little connected as could be with the urgent circumstances which must
have drawn off the thoughts of his congregation, but in the preacher's
prayers both before and after his discourse he interceded for her
Majesty so fervently and pathetically, that few eyes were dry.

Service over, Manningham dined in the privy chamber with Dr. Parry and a
select clerical company, who recounted to him the particulars of the
Queen's illness; how for a fortnight she had been overwhelmed with
melancholy, sitting for hours with eyes fixed upon one object, unable to
sleep, refusing food and medicine, and until within the last two or
three days declining even to go to bed. It was the opinion of her
physicians that if at an early period she could have been persuaded to
use means she would unquestionably have recovered, but she would not,
"and princes," our Diarist remarks, "must not be forced." Her fatal
obstinacy brought her at length into a condition which was irremediable.
For two days she had lain "in a manner speechless, very pensive and
silent,"--dying of her own perverseness. When roused she showed by signs
that she still retained her faculties and memory, but the inevitable
hour was fast approaching. The day before, at the instance of Dr. Parry,
she had testified by gestures her constancy in the Protestantism "which
she had caused to be professed," and had hugged the hand of the
archbishop when he urged upon her a hopeful consideration of the joys of
a future life. In these particulars our Diarist takes us nearer to the
dying bed of the illustrious Queen than any other writer with whom we
are acquainted.

Dr. Parry remained with the Queen to the last. It was amidst his prayers
that about three o'clock in the morning which followed Manningham's
visit to the palace she ceased to breathe.

For the last few years the public mind had been disturbed by claims put
forth on behalf of a multitude of pretenders to the now empty throne.
The people had been bewildered and alarmed by the production of no less
than fourteen different titles advanced on behalf of a number of
separate claimants. A strong impression prevailed that on the Queen's
death a struggle was inevitable--that the long peace which the country
had owed to the Tudors would come to an end with them. The vacancy had
now occurred, and every one was anxious to know in what manner the
claimants would prefer their claims, and who would arbitrate amongst
their clashing interests? Above all things, as likely to involve the
most important changes, what course would be taken by the Roman
Catholics? It seemed a great opportunity for them, so great that no one
imagined they would allow it to slip past.

The statements of our Diarist at this time are of particular interest.
The ministers of the late Queen acted with equal promptitude and
prudence. Sir Robert Cecil had settled the matter long ago, and all his
fellow-ministers now concurred in what he had done. Not an instant was
lost; at the very earliest moment, at day-break, in less than four hours
after the Queen had ceased to breathe at Richmond, a meeting of the
Council was held at Whitehall. A proclamation already prepared by Cecil,
and settled by the anxious King of Scotland, was produced and signed. At
10 o'clock the gates of Whitehall were thrown open. Cecil, with a roll
of paper in his hand, issued forth at the head of a throng of gentlemen,
and with the customary display of tabards and blare of trumpets
proclaimed the accession of King James.

"The proclamation," remarks our author, "was heard with great
expectation and silent joy, no great shouting." At night there were
bonfires and ringing of bells, but "no tumult, no contradiction, no
disorder in the city; every man went about his business as readily, as
peaceably, as securely, as though there had been no change nor any news
of competitors." The quickness and unanimity of the council, combined
with the popular feeling in favour of King James, fixed him at once in
the new dignity. Opponents were overawed and silenced when they found
that the supporters of the King had as it were stolen a march upon them,
and that, although he himself was absent, his friends were in possession
of all the powers of government on his behalf. The previous agitation
subsided almost instantly. The disturbed sea rocked itself to rest.

From this time general anxiety was directed towards the North. "The
people is full of expectation, and great with hope of our new King's
worthiness, of our nation's future greatness; every one promises himself
a share in some famous action to be hereafter performed for his prince
or country." The anticipations which the people framed for themselves
from the change of sex in their new governor, from the change of age,
and from the ambition which they imagined would be developed in him by
his transference from a small rough unsettled country to one which by
forty years of steady government had acquired a unity, a solidity, a
definite and noble position among the nations of the world, of which all
true Englishmen were proud, have no where been brought so clearly before
us, as in the pages of our Diarist. Such anticipations were like the
fire of brushwood. It is painful to think of the disappointment to which
they were doomed.

Besides these events of an historical character, there are scattered
through the Diary a multitude of notices of persons of less social
position than Elizabeth and James, but not by any means of less
interest. Living among lawyers, it was of course that many of the young
student's notes would relate to them. But many of the lawyers of that
day, both those who had earned the honours of their profession and those
who still remained _in statu pupillari_, were men about whom we can
never learn too much. In these notes we have glimpses of Sir Thomas
More, of Bacon, Coke, Lord Keeper Egerton, of Judges Anderson, Manwood,
and Catline, of the merry old Recorder Fleetwood, of his graver
successor Croke, and of the beggar's friend, Sir Julius Cæsar. Among the
younger men we may notice Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, the future Lord Chief
Justice Bramston, and the man who in the coming stormy times was for a
period more prominent than them all, the statesman Pym. It will be seen
in a note at p. 104, that the publication of this volume has given an
opportunity for the settlement of the question, whether Pym had what may
be termed a regular legal education, which his biographers have left in
doubt. The Middle Temple has clearly the high honour of reckoning him
upon their roll.

Of non-legal persons who are here brought before us with more or less
prominency, we need scarcely allude to the entries relating to
Shakespeare and the performance of his Twelfth Night, which were first
noticed by Mr. Collier, and have been used by every subsequent writer on
dramatic subjects. The unfortunate Overbury comes before us several
times, such as we should have expected to find him, inconsiderate and
impetuous. Ben Jonson flits across the page. Of Marston there is a
disagreeable anecdote which has not been left unnoticed by poetical
antiquaries. Sir Thomas Bodley and Lord Deputy Mountjoy are alluded to.
There is an excellent account of an interview with old Stowe the
antiquary, a valuable glimpse of the Cromwell family during the boyhood
of the Protector, and references, some of them of importance, to Sir
Walter Raleigh, to his foolish friend Lord Cobham, to the wizard Earl of
Northumberland, and of course many allusions to the Cecils, both to Sir
William, and to that youngest son to whom, according to the joke which
is here preserved, his father's wisdom descended as if it had been held
by the tenure of Borough-English.

One peculiarity of this Diary is the very large proportion of it which
is given up to notes of sermons. There is something in this which is
characteristic of the time as well as of the writer. It was a
sermon-loving age, and that to a degree which it is scarcely possible
for us to understand in our degenerate days. Another thing which is
equally at variance with modern notions is that, when reading the
original manuscript, we pass at once from passages which we have been
obliged to reject as unfit for publication to notes of pulpit addresses
which inculcate a high-toned morality based upon those sound principles
which apply even to the thoughts and feelings. It is clear that the
incongruity in this contrast which is painful to us was not then
perceived. The coarseness of the popular language on the one hand, and
the affection for pulpit addresses, even among students of the Inns of
Court, on the other, were both parts of what we are accustomed to term
the manners of the age, and, like all things universally accepted, their
rights and wrongs were never very minutely criticised. The language we
have objected to is of course entirely indefensible. It was the slough
of a coarser generation, which our ancestors had not then entirely cast
off.

Of many of the sermons as represented in these notes we think highly,
but we have printed the whole of them in smaller type, so that they may
be distinguished at a glance, and if there be any of our readers to whom
they are less acceptable, they may be easily passed over.

Among the preachers who are here commemorated will be found some of the
most celebrated divines of the day;--Dr. Lancelot Andrewes, Dr. James
Montague, Dr. John Buckeridge, Dr. John King, Dr. Parry, and Dr. George
Abbot, none of them yet Bishops; Andrew Downes the Grecian; Dr. Thomas
Holland, Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford; Dr. Giles Thompson,
afterwards Dean of Windsor; with two fervid orators, frowned upon by
many of their brethren, but most influential with the people,--one of
them Mr. Egerton, whose congregation assembled "in a little church or
chapel up stairs" in Blackfriars, and the other Mr. Clapham, who was the
incumbent of a church at Paul's Wharf.

In notes, for the most part very skilfully taken,[14] of sermons of men
so various in their acquirements, and many of them so eminently
distinguished, we have examples of the pulpit oratory of the age, with
evidences of the nature of the doctrines then generally prevalent in the
Church of England, and of some of the qualities which tended to make the
preaching of those doctrines popular.

    [Footnote 14: So skilfully that one is inclined to suspect that the
    business of note-taking may have been at that time one of the
    branches of legal education. A few occasional mistakes of course
    there are, and when extremely palpable we have sometimes not thought
    it worth while to notice them.]

Nor is the book devoid of notices of many other circumstances which were
characteristical of the time. The following are examples. At p. 22 we
find an account of the operation of lithotomy, stated to be then first
brought into medical practice; at p. 46 we learn that "a certain kind of
compound called _Laudanum_" had been recently introduced as the
chloroform, and at p. 132 that the game of shuttlecock was the croquet,
of the day. In another place (p. 110) the fantastical and affectedly
humble salutation to the knee alluded to by dramatists of the period is
said to have been one of the many changes in fashion attributed to
English travellers returned from Italy. At p. 36 there is a notice of an
article apparently of fashionable costume which we are unable to
explain, "Kentish tails." It is said of these things, whatever they
were, that they "are now turned to such spectacles, so that if a man put
them on his nose he shall have all the land he can see." What
connection, if any, there may be between the tails here mentioned and
the old legend of Kentish tails, we are obliged to leave to the
consideration of persons versed in the antiquities of that county.[15]
There are other passages which deal with the fashions of the day. It was
a time in which ladies' dressing-rooms were nearly allied to
apothecaries' shops, and the art of manufacturing female beauty seems to
have fallen into the hands of probably a lower and irregular class of
medical practitioners. The poets are full of allusions to this subject.
Massinger sums it up in a passage which we may be excused for quoting:--

                      there are ladies
    And great ones, that will hardly grant access,
    On any terms, to their own fathers, as
    They are themselves, nor willingly be seen
    Before they have ask'd counsel of their doctor
    How the ceruse will appear, newly laid-on,
    When they ask blessing.    .    .    .    .
    .    .    .    .     Such indeed there are
    That would be still young in despite of time;
    That in the wrinkled winter of their age
    Would force a seeming April of fresh beauty,
    As if it were within the power of art
    To frame a second nature.

    [Footnote 15: We referred the passage to our late dear friend the
    eminent Kentish antiquary and founder of the Archæological Society
    for that county, the Rev. Lambert B. Larking, and received in reply
    one of his customary kindly and suggestive letters. Since we wrote
    to him, his earthly career has come, alas! to an end. The Camden
    Council have lost a distinguished member, and many persons a
    singularly warm-hearted and unselfish friend. He was indeed one of
    those attractive characters who carry into old age the fervour and
    generosity of early life. There never lived a man in whose heart of
    hearts there dwelt a deeper scorn of everything untruthful,
    disingenuous, or mean, or who was more distinguished by a total
    abandonment of all selfish interests. Deeply versed in the history
    of his beloved native county, and possessed of large antiquarian
    collections derived principally from unpublished materials, the
    information which he had gathered through a course of many years was
    at the service of every applicant, and frequently furnished valuable
    materials for other writers, whilst an over-anxiety to attain an
    impossible completeness prevented his bringing to an end works which
    would have established his own right to a high position in the
    literature of research. His work on the Domesday of Kent we trust
    will soon be issued to the subscribers. We doubt not that it will
    justify our estimate of the scholarship and diligence in inquiry of
    our kind and amiable friend.]

The anecdotes jotted down by the young Templar speak for themselves.
They of course derive their principal value from the names to which they
are attached. Notices of personal peculiarities are so singularly
evanescent, they live so entirely in the observation and memory of
contemporaries, that it is a biographical gain to have them recorded in
any shape. Apparent trifles, such as the waddling gait of Sir John
Davies, the stately silence of Lord Montjoy at the dinner table, the
description of the popular preacher Clapham--"a black fellow with a sour
look but a good spirit, bold and sometimes bluntly witty," the fussy
particularity of Fleetwood the recorder, the vanity of old
Stowe,--these, and memoranda such as these, impart a life and reality to
our conceptions of the men to whom they relate, which cannot be derived
from volumes of mere dates and facts.

Of the recorded witticisms, the peculiarity which will strike the reader
in this case, as in all others of the same description, is their
singular want of originality. Good things which were current in the
classical period are here re-invented, or warmed up, for the amusement
of the contemporaries of King James. And the same thing occurs over and
over again, from generation to generation. _Mots_ which descended to the
times of Manningham reappeared in the pages of Joe Miller, are recorded
among the clever sayings of Archbishop Whateley, and in one instance at
least may be found among the pulpit witticisms of Rowland Hill.

The book is one which would bear a large amount of illustrative
annotation. We have endeavoured in most cases to keep down what we had
to say to mere citation of the ordinary standard books of reference--the
tools with which all literary men work. It is well for them that our
literature can boast of instruments so well suited to their purpose as
Dr. Bliss's edition of Wood's Athenæ, Mr. Hardy's edition of Le Neve's
Fasti, and Mr. Foss's Lives of the Judges--the books to which we have
principally referred. May the number of such works be increased!

Finally, we have the grateful task of returning thanks to two gentlemen
who have specially assisted us in issuing this book. To Mr. John
Forster, the author of the Life of Eliot and of many other valuable
historical works, we are indebted for the use of a transcript of part of
the Diary here printed; and to Mr. John Gough Nichols, like the Editors
of most of the volumes printed for the Camden Society, we owe the great
advantage of many most useful suggestions during the progress of the
work. The results of their kindness and of the liberality of Mr. Tite
will we hope be acceptable to the Society.

J. B.

MANNINGHAM'S DIARY.

[Sidenote: Harl. MS. 5353.

fo. 1.]

A puritan is a curious corrector of thinges indifferent.[16]

    [Footnote 16: This and the subsequent memoranda up to fo. 5 have
    been apparently jotted down at odd times upon the fly-leaves of the
    little book in which what is more properly called the Diary was
    written.]

SONG TO THE QUEENE AT THE MASKE AT COURT, NOV. 2.[17]

    Mighty Princes of a fruitfull land,
      In whose riche bosome stored bee
      Wisdome and care, treasures that free
    Vs from all feare; thus with a bounteous hand
    You serue the world which yett you doe commaund.
          Most gracious Queene, wee tender back
            Our lynes as tributes due,
          Since all whereof wee all partake
            Wee freely take from you.

    Blessed Goddess of our hopes increase,
      Att whose fayre right hand
    Attend Justice and Grace,
      Both which commend
    True beauties face;
    Thus doe you neuer cease
    To make the death of warr the life of peace.
          Victorious Queene, soe shall you liue
            Till Tyme it selfe must dye,
          Since noe Tyme euer can depriue
            You of such memory.

    [Footnote 17: The Queen here mentioned was of course Queen
    Elizabeth. The writing on this page is in many places so much worn
    away as to be difficult to decipher.]

IN MOTLEYUM.

[Sidenote: fo. 2.]

    O cruell death, to murder in thy rage
    Our ages flower, in flower of his age. (_Holland._)

IN SPENSERUM.[18]

    Famous aliue, and dead, here is the ods,
    Then God of Poets, nowe Poet of the Gods.

    [Footnote 18: Spenser died Jan. 16, 1598-9.]

MARCH 29, 1602.

I sawe Dr. Parryes[19] picture with a Bible in his hand, the word upon
it, _Huic credo_, and over his heade an heaven, with a motto, _Hoc
spero_.

    [Footnote 19: Dr. Henry Parry was at this time a prebendary of York.
    He was afterwards successively Dean of Chester, and Bishop of
    Gloucester, and Worcester, and died 12 Dec. 1616. (Hardy's Le Neve,
    i. 439; iii. 66, 177, 264.)]

EPIGRAM; Mr. Kedgwyn.

    The radiant splendor[20] of Tom Hortons nose
    Amates the ruby and puts downe the rose,
    Had I a iewell of soe rich an hewe,
    I would present it to some monarchs viewe,
    Subjects ought not to weare such gemms as those,
    Therefore our Prince shall have Tom Horton's nose!

        [Footnote 20: The word "lustre" is interlined above "splendor,"
        as another suggested reading in place of the latter word.]

[Sidenote: fo. 2^b.]

EPITAPH IN THE CHAUNCERY[21] AT SANDEY IN BEDFORD[SHIRE.]

    Cur caro lætatur dum vermibus esca paratur?
    Terræ terra datur, caro nascitur ut moriatur;
    Terram terra tegat, demon peccata resumat,
    Mundus res habeat, spiritus alta petat.
    Why growes our fleshe so proud,
    Whiles 'tis but made wormes foode?
    This earth must turne to earth.
    To dye flesh tooke it birth,
    The earth our earth must hyde,
    Our synnes the deuill betyde,
    The world our goodes must haue,
    And God our soules will saue.

    [Footnote 21: Chancel or chantry?]

[Sidenote: fo. 3.]

_Certayne devises and empresaes taken by the scucheons in the
Gallery[22] at Whitehall; 19 Martij 1601._

    [Footnote 22: Pepys mentions on two occasions a gallery at Whitehall
    called the Shield Gallery (Diary, i. 105, 133), and Hentzner
    enumerates among things worthy of observation in that spacious and
    memorable palace, "Variety of emblems on paper, out in the shape of
    shields, with mottos, used by the nobility at tilts and tournaments,
    hung up here for a memorial," Journey into England, p. 29, ed.
    1757.]

The scucheon, twoe windmilles crosse sailed, and all the verge of the
scucheon poudred with crosses crosselets, the word _Vndique cruciatus_.
Vnder written these verses:

    When most I rest behold howe I stand crost,
      When most I moue I toyle for others gayne,
    The one declares my labour to be lost,
      The other shewes my quiet is but payne.
    Vnhappy then whose destiny are crosses,
    When standinge still and moveing breedes but losses.

The devise manie small tapers neere about a great burning, the word,
_Nec tibi minus erit_.

The devise a taper newe blowen out, with a fayre blast from a cloude,
the word, _Te flante relucet_.

The scucheon argent with a hand and a pen in it, the word, _Solus amor
depinget_.

Two garlandes in a shield, one of lawrell, the other of cypresse, the
word, _Manet vna cupressi_.

A ship in the sea, the word, _Meus error ab alto_.

A man falling from the top of a ladder, the word, _Non quo, sed unde
cado_.

A scrole of paper full of cypheres, the word, _Adde unum_.

A sunne with sweete face in it averted from an armed knight, shaddowed
in a cloud all but his handes and knees, which were bended; the word,
_Quousque auertes?_

[Sidenote: fo. 3^b.]

The scucheon, a grayhound coursing, with a word, _In libertate labor_;
and another grayhound tyed to a tree and chafinge that he cannot be
loosed to followe the game he sawe; the word, _In servitute dolor_.

A fayre sunne, the word, _Occidens occidens_.

A glorious lady in a cloud in the one syde, and a sunne in the other;
beneath a sacrifice of hands, hartes, armes, pennes, &c. the word,
_Soli, non soli_.

A kingfisher bird, sitting against the winde, the word, _Constans
contrariæ spernit_.

A palme tree laden with armor upon the bowes, the word, _Fero at
patior_.

An empty bagpipe, the word, _Si impleueris_.

An angle with the line and hooke, _Semper tibi pendent_.

A viall well strunge, the word, _Adhibe dextram_.

A sable field, the word, _Par nulla figura dolori_.

A partridge with a spaniell before hir, and a hauke over hir; the word,
_Quo me vertam_.

The man in the moone with thornes on his backe looking downwarde; the
word, _At infra se videt omnia_.

A large diamond well squared, the word, _Dum formas minuis_.

A pyramis standinge, with the mott _Ubi_ upon it, and the same fallen,
with the word _Ibi_ upon it.

A burning glas betwixt the sunne, and a lawne which it had sett on fire;
the word, _Nec tamen cales_.

A flame, the word, _Tremet et ardet_.

A torch light in the sunne, the word, _Quis furor_.

A stag having cast his head and standing amazedly, weeping over them;
the word over, _Inermis et deformis_; under, _Cur dolent habentes_.

A torche ready to be lighted, the word, _Spero lucem_.

A man attyred in greene, shoting at a byrd in the clowdes; the one
arrowe over, the other under; the 3. in his bowe drawne to the heade,
with this word upon it, _Spero vltimam_.

A foote treading on a worme, _Leviter ne peream_.

A dyall in the sunne, _In occasu desinit esse_.

A ballance in a hand, _Ponderare est errare_.

A fly in a hors eye, _Sic ultus peream_.

A scucheon argent, _Sic cum forma nulla placet_.

A ship sayling in the sea, _Portus in ignoto est_.

An eagle looking on the sunne, _Reliqua sordent_.

A branche sprung forth of an oake couped, the word, _Planta fuit
quercus_.

[Sidenote: fo. 5.]

MARCHE 28, 1602.[23]

    [Footnote 23: This was Palm Sunday.]

At the Temple: sermon, the text, Mark, x. 20.

Notes: All the commandementes must be observed with like respect. It is
not sufficient to affect one and leave the rest vnrespect, for that were
to make an idoll of that precept. Obedience must be seasoned with love;
yf any other respect be predominat in our actions, as feare of
punishment, desyre of estimacion &c. they are out of temper.

Christ propoundes these commaundementes of the 2nd table, because, yf a
man cannot observe these, he shall never be able to keepe them of the
first, for yf a man love not his neighbor whom he hath seene, howe shall
he love God whom he hath not seene?

And he that is bound to observe the lesse must keepe the greater
commaundement.

The doctrine of justificacion consistes upon these pillars, 1. _Ex
merito, si non ex condigno at ex congruo._ 2. And this upon free-will,
for noe merrit with[24] a free agent. 3. And this upon a possibilitie of
keeping the commaundementes, for _liberum arbitrium_ is a power of
performing what wee would and should, and _libertas voluntatis_ and
_liberum arbitrium_ are severall.

    [Footnote 24: _Sic_, but _qu._ "without."]

Noe man can performe anie any action soe well but he shall fayle either
in the goodnes of the motion efficient, the meanes, or end.

[Sidenote: fo. 5^b.]

Justificacion by workes is but old Pharisaisme and newe Papisme; the
Papists distinguishe and make _Justiciam legalem_ and _evangelicam_; the
1. in performance of outward required accions; the 2. in the intent
supplied [?]

All the sacrifices that God was most delighted with are for the most
part sayd to be young, a lambe, &c. and the exhortacion of him which was
more the agent and more learned than anie, for he was a King and the
wisest that ever was, is, Remember thy Creator in the dayes of thy
youth, &c.

There is a generall and a speciall love of Christ wherewith he embraceth
men; the 1. is here ment and mentioned, and with that he loves all which
doe but endeauour to be morally good; soe doubteles he loved Aristides
for his justice, which was a work of God in him, and so being a good,
God could not but love it, and him for it.

But the speciall is that whereby he makes us heires of eternall lyfe,
and adoptes vs for his children.

Beholding him, God regardes the least perfections or rather imperfect
affections in us; he will not breake a crazed reede.

[Sidenote: fo. 6.]

AT ST. CLEMENTES;[25] THE PRECHER.[26]

    [Footnote 25: St. Clement Danes in the Strand.]

    [Footnote 26: The rector at this time was Dr. John Layfield, of
    Trin. Coll. Cambridge, one of the revisers of the translation of the
    Bible temp. James I. and one of the first fellows of Chelsea
    College. Newcourt's Repertorium, i. 572.]

Note: The breade in the sacrament becoming a nourishment is a medicine
to our whole bodye.

The manner of receyving Christes body in the sacrament; as to make a
question of it by way of doubting, is dangerous, soe to enquire of it to
knowe it is relligious.

Wee receive it[27] _non per consubstantialitatem sed per germanissimam
societatem_. (_Chrisostom._)

    [Footnote 27: In the MS. this word stands "is."]

It must be received with five fingers, the first the hand, the 2. the
understanding, 3. fayth, 4. application, 5. affection and joy; and this
makes it a communion.

"Take and eate," the wordes of the serpent to Eua, the wordes of the
brasen serpent to vs; those were beleued and brought in perdicion, these
yf beleived are the meanes to saluation.

[Sidenote: fo. 6^b.]

_Out of a booke called_ THE PICTURE OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH.[28]

    [Footnote 28: Written by Thomas Floyd; published Lond. 1600, 12mo.]

A wicked King is like a crazed ship, which drownes both it selfe and all
that are in it.

Pleasures are like sweet singing birds, which yf a man offer to take
they fly awaye.

DR. MOUNFORDES[29] SERMON. (_Ch. Dauers._)

    [Footnote 29: Dr. Thomas Mountford was a prebendary of Westminster
    from 1585 to 1681-2. (Hardy's Le Neve, iii. 350.)]

Of pleasure. _Momentaneum est quod delectat, æternum quod cruciat._

It is better to eate fishes with Christ, then a messe of pottage with
Esau.

_Nil turpius quam plus ingerrere quam possis digerere._

The glutton eates like a dogge, and lives like a hogg, having his soule
as salt onely to keepe his body from stinkinge.

He that filleth his body emptieth his soule.

_Id pro Deo colitur quod præ omnibus diligitur._

_Vtinam_, sayth Augustine, _tam finiatur quam definitur ebrietas_.

Bacchus painted yonge, because he makes men like children, vnable to goe
or speake, naked because discouers all.

It is noe better excuse for a drunkard to say that it was his owne that
he spent, then yf one should say he would cut his owne throate, for the
knife that should doe it is his owne.

Drunkennes is the divells birding synne; the drunkard like the stale
that allures other to be taken like it selfe.

Matt. 12.

Envie and mallice will barke though it be so musselled that it cannot
bite.

[Sidenote: fo. 7.]

It is almost divine perfection to resist carnall affection.

When wee censure other men wee should imitate that good imitator of
nature Apelles, whoe being to drawe a face of an great person[30] which
wanted an eye, drewe that syde only which was perfect.

    [Footnote 30: Originally written "Emperour" and afterwards "great
    person." When the word "Emperour" was altered, the writer omitted to
    correct the preceding article.]

The malicious man is like the vultur, which passeth ouer manie sweete
gardens and never rests but vpon some carrion or garbage, soe he neuer
takes notice of anie thing but vices.

Libellers are the divels herauldes.

_Invidus alienum bonum suum facit peccando malum._

Envy, though in all other respectes it be a thing most execrable, yet in
this it is in some sort commendable, that it is a vexacion to it selfe.
It is like gunpowder, which consumes itselfe before it burnes the house.
Or the fly _pyrausta_, which would put out the candle, but burns
itselfe.

Honor is like a buble, which is raysed with one winde and broken with an
other.

MR. DOWNES.[31]

    [Footnote 31: The celebrated Andrew Downes, appointed Regius
    Professor of Greek at Cambridge in 1595. (Hardy's Le Neve, iii.
    660.)]

The love of the world is the divels eldest sonne.

Honour, riches, and pleasure are the worldly mans trynitie, wherewith he
committs spirituall idolatry.

Thankefullnes is like the reflex of the sunne beame from a bright bodie.

After a full tyde of prosperitie cometh a lowe ebbe of adversitie. After
a day of pleasure a night of sorrowe.

[Sidenote: fo. 7^b.]

Honour is like a spiders webbe, long in doinge, but soone vndone, blowne
downe with every blast. It is like a craggy steepe rocke, which a man is
longe getting vpon, and being vp, yf his foote but slip, he breakes his
necke. Soe the Jewes dealt with Christ; one day they would have him a
king, an other day none; one day cryed Hosanna to him, an other nothing
but crucifie him.

The world is like an host; when a man hath spent all, body, goodes, and
soule with it, it will not vouchsafe to knowe him.

Laban chose rather to loose his daughters than his idols, and the riche
man had rather forsake his soule then his riches.

If a citizen of Rome made him selfe a citizen of anie other place, he
lost his priviledge at Rome; yf a man wilbe a citizen of this world, he
cannot be a citizen of heaven.

Ambitious men are like little children which take great paynes in
runninge vp and downe to catch butterflyes, which are nothing but
painted winges, and either perishe in takinge or fly away from them.

Covetous man like a child, which cryes more for the losse of a trifle
then his inheritance; he laments more for losse of wealth then soule.

A covetous man proud of his riches is like a theife that is proud of his
halter.

MR. PHILLIPS.

The proverbe is that building is a theife, because it makes us lay out
more money then wee thought on; but pride is a theife and a whore too,
for it robbes the maister of his wealth, and the mistress of her
honesty.

[Sidenote: fo. 8.]

The drunkard makes his belly noe better then a bucking tubb, a vessell
to poure into, and put out at.

_Bona opera habent mercedem, non ratione facti, sed ratione pacti._

_Non est refugium a Deo irato, nisi ad Deum placatum._

Synn is Adams legacy bequeathed to all his posteritie: nothing more
common then to committ synn, and being committed to conceale it.

A concealed synn is _tanquam serpens in sinu, gladius in corde, venenum
in stommacho_; it is like a soare of the body, the closer it is kept the
more it festers.

_Scelera quandoque possunt esse secreta, nunquam secura._

Confession must be _festina, vera, et amara_.

Confession of synne onely at the hour of death, is like a theifes
confession at the gallowes, or a traytors at the racke, when they cannot
choose.

_Sine confessione justus est ingratus, et peccator mortuus._

The mercy of God is never to be despayred of, but still to be expected
even _inter pontem et fontem, jugulum et gladium_.

Dissembled righteousnes is like smoake, which seemes to mount up to
heaven, but never comes neare it.

Prayse is a kinde of paynt which makes every thing seeme better then it
is. (_Cha. Dauers._)

To prayse an unworthy man is as bad as to paint the face of an old
woman. (_Idem._)

Sorrowe is the punishment and remedy for synn; _sic Deus quod poenam
dedit, medicinam fecit._ (_Augustine._)

[Sidenote: fo. 8^b.]

MR. MUNOES[32] OF PETERHOUSE IN CAMBRIDGE.

    [Footnote 32: Monoux or Munoux?]

_Primum querite regnum Dei, et omnia adjicientur vobis._ Tullies
brother, in a sort reprehending or discouraging his suit for the
consulship, tells him that he must remember that he is _novus,
consulatum petit_, and _Romæ est_; the Devill, perhaps least any should
attempt to put this precept in practise, will terrifie us by shewinge vs
our weakenes, and that greatnes. _Terræ filius es; regnum quæris?
Coelum est, &c._

_Sit modus amoris sine modo._

_Beatus est, Domine, qui te amat propter te, amicum in te, et inimicum
propter te._

Quere 3. (1.) _Quere Deum et non aliud tanquam illum._ (2.) _non aliud
præter illum._ (3.) _non aliud post illum._

_Diuitiæ non sunt bonæ, quæ te faciant bonum, sed unde tu facias bonum._

Beda interpreted those letters, S. P. Q. R. written upon a gate in Rome,
_Stultus Populus Quoerit Romam_, intimating they were but fooles that
went thither for true relligion.

Yf Christ had thought well of wealth he would not have bin soe poore
himselfe. He was _pauper in ingressu_, borne in a manger; _in
progressu_, not a hole to hide his head in; _in egressu_, not a sheet of
his owne to shroude him in.

The covetous persons like the seven leane kine that eate up the seven
fatt, and yet remaine as ill favoured as before.

Yf thou carest not to liue in such a house as hell is, yett feare to
dwell with such a companion as the Divel is.

[Sidenote: fo. 9.]

SERCHEFEILD OF ST. JOHNS IN OXFORD.[33]

    [Footnote 33: Dr. Rowland Searchfield, Bishop of Bristol from 1619
    to 1622. (Wood's Athenæ, ii. 861.)]

_Cursus celerimus, sæpe pessimus._

_Sit opus in publico, intentio in occulto._

A dissembled Christian, like an intemperate patient, which can gladly
heare his physicion discourse of his dyet and remedy, but will not
endure to obserue them.

_Minus prospere, qui nimis propere._

MR. SCOTT, TRINIT. CANT'BR.

_Dum sumus in corpore peregrinamur a Domino._

_Non contemnenda sunt parva, sine quibus non consistunt magna._

The soules of the just men are like Noahs doue sent out of the arke;
could finde noe resting place upon the earth.

He that hath put on rich apparrail will be carefull he stayne it not; he
that hath put on Christ as a garment must take heede he soile not
himself with vices.

An high calling is noe priviledge for an impious action.

All our new corne comes out of old feilds, and all our newe learning is
gathered out of old bookes. (_Chaucer._)

Words spoken without consideracion are like a messenger without an
errand.

Our owne righteousnes at the best is but like a beggars cloke, the
substance old and rotten, and the best but patches.

[Sidenote: fo. 9^b.]

AT BRADBORNE WITH MY COSEN THIS CHRISMAS. 1601.

My cosen[34] told me that Mr. Richers would give his cosen Cartwright
8,000_l._ for his leas of the abbey of towne Mallinges, the Reversion
whereof the L. Cobham hath purchased of hir Majestie.

    [Footnote 34: The cousin alluded to, and frequently vouched as an
    authority by the Diarist, was Richard Manningham, esq. of Bradbourne
    in East Malling, Kent. He survived his wife, who is mentioned in
    this page, and died 25th April 1611, æt. 72.]

An old child sucks hard; _i.[e.]_ children when they growe to age proue
chargeable.

Peter Courthope said it would be more beneficiall yf our woll and cloth
were not to be transported but in colours; but my cosen[35] said we may
as well make it into clokes and garmentes, as dye it in colours before
we carry it ouer; for both variable, and as much change in colour as
fashion.

    [Footnote 35: Cousin Richard Manningham had been a successful
    merchant in London. Hence the importance evidently attached to his
    remarks on Subjects connected with commerce and foreign countries.]

JANUARY.

    To furnishe a shipp requireth much trouble,
    But to furnishe a woman the charges are double.

    (_My cosens wife said._)

The priviledge of enfranchising anie for London is graunted to every
alderman at his first creation for one: to every sherif for 2: to every
maior for 4. (_Cosen._)

And almost any man for some 40_l._ may buy his freedome, and these are
called free by redemption.

If a man prentice in London marry, he shall be forced to serve of his
time, and yet loose his freedome. But yf a woman prentice marry, shee
shall onely forfayte hir libertie, but shall not be forced to serve.
(_Cosen._)

To be warden of the Companie of Mercers is some 80_l._ charge; to be one
of the livery, a charge but a credit. A bachelor is charged at the
Maiors feast some 100 markes.

[Sidenote: fo. 10.

Jan. 1601.]

The Flushingers wanting money, since hir Majesties tyme, and while they
were our friends, seised certayne merchant ships [and] forced them to
give 40,000_l._ The merchants complayned but could not be releived.
Oftymes the Princes dutys are defrayed with the subjectes goods.

Sir Moyle Finche of Kent married Sir Frauncis Hastinges daughter and
heir,[36] worth to him 3,000_l._ per annum. All his livinge in
Lincolnshire and Kent, &c. worth 4,000_l._ per annum. (_Dene Chapman._)

    [Footnote 36: This marriage is not mentioned by Dugdale (Bar. ii.
    445) nor in Collins (iii. 382, ed. Brydges). Both of them mention
    only one marriage of Sir Moyle, which was the source of all the
    importance of his family, namely, with Elizabeth sole daughter and
    heir of Sir Thomas Heneage. After Sir Moyle's death this lady was
    created Countess of Winchelsea.]

8. Dyned at Mr. Gellibrands, a physician, at Maidstone.

11. Mr. Fr. Vane, a yong gent, of great hope and forwardnes, verry well
affected in the country already, in soe much that the last parliament
the country gave him the place of knight before S^r. H.(?) Nevell; his
possibilitie of living by his wife verry much, shee beinge daughter and
co-heire to S^r. Antony Mildmay; and thought hir mother will give hir
all hir inheritance alsoe; the father worth 3,000_l._ per annum, the
mother's 1,200_l._[37] (_Mr. Tutsham._)

    [Footnote 37: These expectations of the growing importance of Mr.
    Francis Vane were not altogether disappointed. At the coronation of
    James I. he was made K.B. and on 19th December 1624 was created
    Baron Burghersh and Earl of Westmoreland. He died in 1628. The Sir
    Anthony Mildmay here alluded to was of the Mildmays of Apethorp, co.
    Northampton.]

The Duke of Albues [Alva's] negligence in not fortifying Flushinge
before other places in the Netherlands was the cause he lost the
country, for, when he thought to have come and fortified, the towne
suddenly resisted his Spanish souldiers, and forced them to returne.
(_Cosen._)

18. I rode with my cosen's wife to Maidstone; dyned at Gellibrands.

[Sidenote: fo. 10^b.

Jan. 1601.]

As we were viewinge a scull in his studye, he shewed the seame in the
middle over the heade, and said that was the place which the midwife
useth shutt in women children before the wit can enter, and that is a
reason that women be such fooles ever after.

My cosen shee said that the Gellibrands two wives[38] lived like a
couple of whelpes togither, meaninge sporting, but I sayd like[39] a
payre of turtles, or a couple of connies[40], sweetely and lovingly.

    [Footnote 38: It appears in an omitted passage that, besides the
    physician Gellibrand, there was another of the same family, who is
    mentioned as Th. Gellibrand.]

    [Footnote 39: Live, MS.]

    [Footnote 40: _i. e._ rabbits.]

Mr. Alane, a minister, was very sicke. Gellibrand gave him a glyster,
and lett him bloud the same day, for a feuer; his reason was, that not
to have lett him bloud had bin verry dangerous; but to lett bloud is
doubtfull, it may doe good as well as harme.

My cosen shee told me, that when shee was first married to hir husband
Marche, as shee rode behinde him, shee slipt downe, and he left hir
behinde, never lookt back to take hir up; soe shee went soe long a foote
that shee tooke it soe unkindly that shee thought neuer to have come
againe to him, but to haue sought a service in some vnknowne place; but
he tooke hir at last.

Wee were at Mrs. Cavils, when she practised some wit upon my cosen[41].
Cosen she called double anemonies double enimies. Mrs. Cavill desired
some rootes, and she referd hir to hir man Thomas Smith.

    [Footnote 41: My cosen, shee, MS.]

[Sidenote: fo. 11.

Jan. 1601.]

My cose she Speaking lavishly in commendacions of one Lovell of
Cranebrooke (a good honest poore silly puritane,) "O," said shee, "he
goes to the ground when he talkes in Divinitie with a preacher." "True,"
said I, "verry likely a man shall goe to the ground when he will either
venture to take vpon him a matter that is to waightie for him, or meddle
with such as are more then his matche." "I put him downe yfaith," said
one, "when he had out talked a wiser then himselfe." "Just," said I, "as
a drumme putes downe sweete still musicke, not as better, but mor
soundinge."

22. AT LONDON.--_In a booke of Newes from Ostend._

Touchinge the parly which Sir Fr. Vere held with the Archduke there,
till he had reenforced himself, Sir Franc. said that the banes must be
thrice askt, and yf at the last tyme anie lawefull cause can be showen,
the marriage may be hindred. The Duke answered, he knewe that was true,
yet, he said, it was but a whore that offered hir selfe.

Divers merchants arrested by Leake for shipping ouer cloth aboue the
rate of their licence. (_Theroles_ [?] _nar._)

The Companie of Peweterers much greived at a licence graunted to one
Atmore to cast tynne, and therefore called him perjured knaue; whereupon
he complayned to the Counsell, and some of them were clapt vp for it. "I
will be even with him for it yfaith," said one that thought he had bin
disgraced by his credit; "Then you will pay him surely," quoth I.

[Sidenote: fo. 11^b.

Jan. 1601.]

    Nature doth check the first offence with loathing,
    But vse of synn doth make it seeme as nothing.

The spending of the afternoones on Sundayes either idly or about
temporall affayres, is like clipping the Q. coyne; this treason to the
Prince, that prophanacion, and robbing God of his owne,--(_Archdall._)

Hide to Tanfeild;[42] "It is but a matter of forme you stand so much
upon." "But it is such a forme," said Tanfeild, "as you may chaunce to
breake your shins at, unless you be the nimbler."

    [Footnote 42: The "Hide" here mentioned was probably the future Sir
    Lawrence, elder brother of Sir Nicholas the future Lord Chief
    Justice, and uncle to Lord Chancellor Clarendon. (Foss's Judges, vi.
    335.) Tanfield was the future Lord Chief Baron, whose only daughter
    was mother to Lucius Lord Falkland. (Ibid. 365.)]

Certaine in the country this last Christmas chose a jury to finde the
churle of their parishe, and, when they came to give their verdick, they
named one whose frende, being present, began to be verry collerick with
the boys for abusing him. "Hold you content, gaffer," said one of them,
"if your boy had not bin one of the jury you had bin found to have bin
the churle." The game of vntimely reprehension and the verry course of
common Inquests, all led by some frend.

[Sidenote: fo. 12.

Jan. 26.]

The L. Paget upon a tyme thinkinge to have goded Sir Tho. White (an
alderman of London) in a great assembly, askt him, what he thought of
that clothe, shewing him a garment in present. "Truly, my Lord," said
he, "it seemes to be a verry good cloth, but I remember when I was a
yong beginner I sold your father a far better to make him a gowne, when
he was Sergeant to the L. Maior; truly he was a very honest
sergeant!"[43] None so ready to carpe at other mens mean beginnings as
such as were themselves noe better. (_Reeves._)

    [Footnote 43: Dugdale remarks that the first Paget who "arrived to
    the dignity of Peerage" was son to "---- Paget, one of the Serjeants
    at Mace in the City of London." (Bar. ii. 390.) Sir Thomas White was
    of course the founder of St. John's college, Oxford.]

Tarlton[44] called Burley house gate in the Strand towardes the Savoy,
the Lord Treasurers Almes gate, because it was seldom or never opened.
(_Ch. Dauers._)

    [Footnote 44: Richard Tarlton, the celebrated low comedian and Joe
    Miller of his day.]

Repentaunce is like a drawebridge, which is layd downe for all to passe
over in the day tyme, but drawne up at night: soe all our life wee have
tyme to repent, but at death it is to late. (_Ch. Dauers recit._)

It was ordered by our benchers, that wee should eate noe breade but of 2
dayes old. Mr. Curle said it was a binding lawe, for stale breade is a
great binder; but the order held not 3 dayes, and soe it bound not.

EPITAPHE OF JOHN FOOTE.

    Reader look to' it! Here lyes John Foote,
    He was a Minister, borne at Westminster.

ALIUD OF MR. CHILD.

    If I be not beguild,
    Here lies Mr. Child.

    (_Ouerbury recit._)[45]

        [Footnote 45: We have retained these trifling entries solely on
        account of the name appended to them. The unfortunate Sir Thomas
        Overbury, who was son of a gentleman of Gloucestershire, having
        taken his B.A. degree at Queen's College, Oxford, removed in
        1598 to the Middle Temple.]

  I will be soe bolde as to give the Assise the lye:
  (_Ch. Dauers in argument._)

"I came rawe into the world, but I would not goe out rosted," said one
that ment to be noe martyre. (_Curle nar._)

[Sidenote: fo. 12^b.

Jan. 1601.]

This last Christmas the Conny-catchers would call themselves
Country-gentlemen at dyce.

When a gentlewoman told Mr. Lancastre he had not bin soe good as his
word, because he promised shee should be gossip to his first child
(glaunceing at his bastard on his landres), "Tut," said he, "you shall
be mother to my next, if you will."

ANAGRAM.

    Margaret Westfalinge.
    My greatest welfaring.[46]

    (_Streynsham nar._)

        [Footnote 46: Herbert Westfaling, Bishop of Hereford (1585-1602)
        had a daughter Margaret who may have been the lady here alluded
        to, although at this time married to Dr. Richard Eedes, Dean of
        Worcester. (Wood's Athenæ, i. 720, 750.) Like many of these
        trifles, it will be observed that the anagrammatic reading is
        incomplete.]

    Davis.
    Advis. Judas.

    (_Martin._)

FEBR. 1601.

[Sidenote: Feb. 2.]

At our feast wee had a play called "Twelue Night, or What you Will,"
much like the Commedy of Errores, or Menechmi in Plautus, but most like
and neere to that in Italian called _Inganni_[47]. A good practise in it
to make the Steward beleeve his Lady widdowe was in love with him, by
counterfeyting a letter as from his Lady in generall termes, telling him
what shee liked best in him, and prescribing his gesture in smiling, his
apparaile, &c., and then when he came to practise making him beleeue
they tooke him to be mad.

    [Footnote 47: It seems from remarks of Mr. Hunter, in his
    Illustrations of Shakspeare, i. 391, that the Italian play here
    alluded to was not one of those termed the _Inganni_, of which there
    are several, but the _Ingannati_, which, like the Taming of the
    Shrew, is a play preceded by a dramatic prologue or induction,
    entitled _Comedia del Sacrificio di gli Intronati_. There is no
    separate title-page to the _Ingannati_, but there are several
    editions of the _Sacrificio di gli Intronati_, in which the
    _Ingannati_ is introduced, printed at Venice in 1537, 1550, and
    several subsequent years.]

[Sidenote: 12.]

_Quæ mala cum multis patimur læviora putantur._

[Sidenote: 11.]

Cosen Norton was arrested in London.

[Sidenote: fo. 13.

Febr. 1601.]

He put up a supplicacion to Sir Robt. Cecile presented by his wife,
whome he tooke notice of the next day, which remembring [was?] with out
being remembred what he had done in it. The effect of this petition was,
that, whereas Copping had their goods forth of Mr. Cranmers hand (whoe
had dealt but to honestly for such vnthankefull persons), and they
should have a certaine summe yearely, they could neither gett payment,
nor haue him account; he said twenty pounds were enough to keepe the
Lunatike their mother, when Cranmer had the goodes; nowe he deductes
50_l._ for hir, and yett keepes hir far more basely. And therefor humbly
desyre Copping might be brought to some order. Norton tels me this
Copping is a notable riche practiser, &c.

Cosen Norton told me that one Mr. Cokayne of Hertfordshire gott his
brother H. Norton by a wile to his house, and their married him upon a
pushe to a kinswoman of his, and made a serveingman serve the purpose
insted of a preist.

[Sidenote: Feb. 14.]

Bounty is wronged, interpreted as duty.

My Cosen Garnons told me that the old Earle of Sussex[48], being in
seruice in the North, was intangled by his Marshall, but extricated by
the Earle of Leycester, whose overthrowe afterward he covertly
practised. _Quædam beneficia odimus; vitam nulli debemus libenter._

    [Footnote 48: Thomas Ratcliffe, third Earl of Sussex (1556--1583.)
    The reader of Kenilworth will need no further illustration than a
    reference to those attractive pages.]

The office of the Lord Keeper better worth then 3000_l._ per annum, of
the Admirall more, of the Secretary little lesse. (_Idem._)

[Sidenote: fo. 13^b.

Febr. 1601.]

My Cosen Garnons told me that the Court of Wardes will send a
prohibicion to anie other Court to cease from proceeding in anie suite,
whereof themselues may have colour to hold plea in that Court. Soe
prædominat a Court is that nowe become.

[Sidenote: 18.]

Went to my Cosen in Kent.

[Sidenote: 19.]

I was at Malling with Mr. Richers.

The Bishop of London[49] is Dr. Parrys crosse frend. (_Mr. Richers._)

    [Footnote 49: Bishop, afterwards Archbishop, Bancroft.]

In discourse of Mr. Sedley[50], he told me, that his lady said he is
gone over sea for debt, which Mr. Richers thinks was caused by his
lavishe almes; for Mr. Sedley would not sticke himselfe to say, yf any
gentleman spent not aboue 500_l._ a yeare, he gaue as muche to the
poure; and as he was prodigall in giuinge, so was he indiscreet in
bestowinge, appointinge vile fellowes to be the distributors of it: he
is now at Padua, without anie man attendant. He went into Italy to
learne discourse, he was nothing but talke before. I maruaile what he
will be when he returnes, said he. Reade muche but not judicious.
(_Idem._) Mrs. Frauncis Richers said he was a gentle gentleman. F. is
open in talke. Plotters for him.

    [Footnote 50: Probably Mr. William Sedley of the Friars in
    Aylesford, afterwards the first Baronet of this family. His lady,
    here alluded to, was Elizabeth, daughter and heir of Stephen Darell
    of Spelmonden, and widow of Henry Lord Abergavenny, ob. 1587.
    Hasted, ii. 170, ed. 1782.]

Miller, a rich yeoman about Rotham,[51] when he came to entreate he
might be abated in the assessment for subsidies, threwe in a note that
he was worth but 550_1._ land fee simple: one of Mr. Sedley's almesmen.

    [Footnote 51: Wrotham?]

[Sidenote: fo. 14.

Febr. 1601.]

[Sidenote: pag. prox.]

This day Mr. Cartwright had bin with my cosen to knowe whether he denied
to hold anie land of him. My cosen acknowledged that he held divers
parcells of him, but doth not certainely knowe howe it is all bounded.
My cosen told me it was concealed land, and recovered by Mr.
Cartwright's father against Mr. Catlin, of whom my cosen bought
Bradborne.

Sir Robert Sydney hath bought Otford House, and sells it againe by
parcells.

Mr. Cartwrightes father and Mr. Richeres mother were brother and sister,
soe they first cosens.

Mr. Jo. Sedley[52] hath built a house in Aylesford which cost him aboue
4000_l._; hath not belonging to it aboue 14 acres of ground. Perhaps he
purposed to haue bought the Lordship, which indeede was afterward
offered vnto him, but he soe delayed the matter, that particuler men
haue it nowe. It is thought the Lord Buckhurst would buy the house, &c.
(_Cos._)

    [Footnote 52: Qu. John afterwards the second Baronet?]

[Sidenote: Feb. 20.]

Yf a man in the Lowe Countryes come to challenge a man out of his house,
and because he comes not forth throwes stones at his windowes, this [is]
a crime capitall, because an assault in [on?] his house, which is his
castle. (_Cosen told me._)

[Sidenote: fo. 14^b.

Febr. 1601.]

Out of a book intituled "Quodlibets"[53] written by a secular priest
called Watson, against the Jesuites, fol. 151 & 152. His special
arguments for a tolleracion in relligion. 1. That yf tolleracion were
induced, then there should be no collor to publishe bookes howe
tyrannical the persecution of Catholikes is. 2. Then England should not
be called the nursery of faction. 3. Then the Spaniard should have noe
Prince to band on his side.[54] 6. The subjects would not be so fitt to
be allured to rebellion. 7. The safety of hir Majesties person is mutche
procured. All slight.

    [Footnote 53: "A Decacordon of Ten Quodlibeticall Questions
    concerning Religion and State: wherein the author, framing himself a
    Quilibet to every Quodlibet, decides an hundred crosse
    Interrogatorie doubts, about the generall contentions betwixt the
    Seminarie priests and Jesuites at this present," 4to. n. p. 1602.]

    [Footnote 54: There are in Watson's book other arguments numbered 4
    and 5, but probably the Diarist did not think them worthy of note.
    Watson's remarks are not so much arguments in favour of toleration
    abstractedly considered, as reasons why it would not answer the
    purpose of Father Parsons and the Jesuits to support its
    introduction into England.]

One Kent, my cosen's brother by his mothers side, living in
Lincolneshire, bought a jewell, part of a price [prize?] that was
brought in to that country. The Earle of Lyncolne[55] hearing of it,
sent for Kent, and desyred him to bestowe it on him, but when Kent would
not part from it for thankes, the Earle gaue him a bill of his hand for
the payment of 80_l._ at a certaine day. At the day, came and demaunded
it, the Earl would see his bill, and when he had it he put it in his
pocket, and fell in talke with some gent. then present; but when Kent
continued still in the roome, expectinge either his bill or his monie,
the Earl gave him hard wordes and sent him away without either.
(_Durum._)

    [Footnote 55: Henry Clinton, the second Earl of Lincoln of that
    family, succeeded to the title in 1585, as heir to his father the
    Lord High Admiral, and held it till his death in 1616.]

[Sidenote: Feb. 19.]

[Sidenote: *]

Mr. Cartwright demaundes some three acres of land of my cosen, which he
saith one John Sutor of Bradborne gave vnto the Abby of Towne Mallinge,
by the name of Sutors Croft, lying betwixt his house and the churche. My
cosen denies it.

My Cosen shee told him that Joane Bachellor vpon Thursday last had sent
hir some fishe, which she sent back againe. Whereupon he said shee was
of an ill nature that could not forgive. And this shee tooke in such
snuffe that she could not afford him a good look all that day, but
blubberd, &c.

[Sidenote: fo. 15.

Febr. 1601.]

This day there came certaine bags of pepper to New Hide to be conveyed
to one Mr. Clarke of Ford, but they were seised by the Searcher of
Rochester as goods not customed, &c.

S^r. Jaruis Clifton[56] beinge at a bare baytinge in Nottinghamshire:
when the beare brake loose and followed his sonne vp a stayres towards a
gallery where himself was, he opposed himselfe with his rapier against
the fury of the beast, to saue his sonne. This same his beloued sonne
not long after dyed, and his death was opened vnto him very discreetely
by a gent, that fayned sorrowe as the case had bin his owne, till S^r.
Jaruis gave him wordes of comfort, which after he applyed to S^r. Jaruis
himselfe. (_My cosen._)

    [Footnote 56: Sir Gervase Clifton, a man of great wealth and power
    in Nottinghamshire, was created a peer in 1608. In 1618 he died by
    an act of the same hand which had so gallantly defended his son from
    the bear. His title of Lord Clifton in now united to that of Earl of
    Darnley.]

[Sidenote: fo. 16.

Febr. 1601.]

One Burneham of London, whoe was the Watergate officer at Flushinge,
being troubled with the stone, soe much that it was a hindraunce vnto
him in the execution of his office, ventured a dangerous cure, and was
cutt for it, but dyed of it. This cure by cutting is a newe invention, a
kinde of practise not knowne to former ages. There is a seame *  *  *
which the surgeons searche with a crooked instrument concaued at the one
ende called a catheter, wherinto they make incision, and then grope for
the stone with an other toole which they call a duckes bill: yf the
stone be greater then may be drawne forth at the hole made by the seame,
the partie dyes for it. (_My cosen._)

A certaine goldsmith in Cheape was indebted to my cosen above 100_l._
and after executed for clipping gold. Sir Richard Martin[57] seised the
goodes for the Queen. After hir Majestie gave commaund by word of mouth,
that all the debtes should be paid, but, because there was noe warraunt
under hir Majesties hand, S^r. Richard refused to pay, yet he deliuered
certaine of the goodes to my cosen, to be sold by him, which he made
30_l._ of and retained it. All the satisfaccion he could haue.

    [Footnote 57: Warden of the Mint.]

_Vita coelibis bis coelestis_, considering the crosses of marriage,
and the aduise of the Apostle.

[Sidenote: Feb. 24.]

AT ROCHESTER, AT THE ASSISES.

Mr. Thomas Scott of Scottes Hall,[58] in Kent, is Sherife of Kent.

    [Footnote 58: In the parish of Smeeth. The Scotts of Scotts Hall
    were originally seated at Bradbourne.]

[Sidenote: fo. 16.

Febr. 1601.]

One Tristram Lyde, a surgeon, admitted to practise by the archbishops
letters, was arraigned for killing divers women by annoyntinge them with
quicksylver, &c. Euidence giuen that he would haue caused the women to
haue stript themselues naked in his presence, and himselfe would haue
annoynted them; that he tooke upon him the cure, and departed because
they would not give him more then their first agreement. He pleaded
theire diseases were such as required that kinde of medicine, that it
was there owne negligence by takinge cold, by going abroade sooner then
he prescribed, soe he was acquited.

Sergeant Daniel[59] sitting there as judge sayd he knewe that there
might be a purgacion by a fume, and that to cure by cutting a gutt was a
dangerous venture, and a rare skill, for he could neuer heare of anie
had that cunning but onely one man, and that was learned in Turkie.

    [Footnote 59: Judge in the Court of Common Pleas, 1604-1610.]

If a man kill an other (as they say) in hott bloud, excepte there appear
some cause to heate his blond, the jury must finde it murder. (_Per
Sergeant Danyell._)

There was one gave another rude words, whereupon a third standing by
said to him to whome they were spoken, "Will you endure such an injury?
Fayth, putt vp them and put vp any thing." Hereupon the party present
fetcht his weapon, mett with the other that gaue him those wordes, and
[in] the presence of the setter on fought with him, and slewe him, the
other standinge by and doinge noe more. Yet they were both condemned at
this assises, and after executed.

[Sidenote: fo. 16^b.

24 Febr. 1601.]

There was one had his booke given him at the prisoners barr, where the
ordinary useth to heare and certifie there readinge. And one Mr.
Gylburne start up sayinge, "He will reade as well as my horse;" which
wordes Sergeant Daniel, havinge before allowed the cleargy, tooke verry
ill, telling him playnely that he was too hasty: and yet caused the
prisoner to be brought nearer that Gylburne might hear him reade, and
he reade perfectly.

IN THE CATHEDRALL CHURCHE AT ROCHESTER.

Monuments. Of Jo. Somer of Newland, clerke of the Privy Signet, and
Martin (_sic_) his wife, daughter to Ed. Ridge, late widdowe of Th.
Colepepper. They had 6 sonnes, but all deade, and 2 daughters: whereof
the one called Frances was married to James Cromer, by whom one daughter
called Frances. _Versus._

    _Sunt nisi præmissi quos periisse putas._

_In Naui Ecclesiæ._

_Thomas Willowbee, Decanus 3^s, obiit anno 25 Reg. Elizab., 76 ætatis
suæ, et 10^o decanatûs._

_Gualterus Phillips, nouissimus prior et primus decanus, obijt 23^o
Nouemb. 1570, ætatis 70, decanatûs 30^o._

[Sidenote: May 2, 1602.

fol. 17^b.]

At Glastenbury there are certaine bushes which beare May flowers at
Christmas and in January, and there is a walnut tree which hath no
leaues before Barnabies day in June, and then it beginns to bud, and
after becomes as forward as any other.

  (_Mr. Towse narravit._)

I heard that the old Earle of Hartford[60] maried Alderman Parnels
[Pranell's] sonnes widdow; shee was the daughter of Viscount Bindon.

    [Footnote 60: Edward, son of the Protector Somerset, Earl of
    Hertford from 1559 to 1619, the same who married Lady Catherine
    Grey. The lady here alluded to, Frances daughter of Thomas first
    Viscount Howard of Bindon, became ultimately the celebrated Duchess
    of Richmond and Lennox of the reigns of James I. and Charles I.]

[Sidenote: May 9, 1602.

fo. 18.]

ATT THE TEMPLE CHURCHE.

Dr. Montague,[61] his text Joh. iii. 14: "As Moses lift up the Serpent
in the Wildernes so must the Sonne of Man be lift up."

    [Footnote 61: Dr. James Montague, first master of Sidney Sussex
    College, editor of King James's Works, and subsequently Bishop
    successively of Bath and Wells and of Winchester.]

Speaches are either historicall of a thing past, propheticall of a thing
to come, legall of a thing to be done, or figurative when one thing is
said and an other ment. Figures there are in scripture, two almost
peculiar, typicall and sacramentall, the one shewing one thing by an
other, the other declaring what is conferred by another.

Moses had speciall commaundment to erect this Serpent, and yet God did
not dispense with the 2nd Commaundment, for this Serpent was not made to
be worshipped, but to be looked upon.

God cannot dispense with anie commandment of the first table but he
should cease to be God, as the first, Thou shalt have none other[62]
Gods but me; admit a pluralitie, and himselfe should be none, &c. but
with the 2nd table he often dispenseth, for those concerne man
immediately.

    [Footnote 62: others, in MS.]

The text is hystoricall, Numb. xxi. 9, and typicall. Christ resembled by
the brasen Serpent, Syn by the stinging.

[Sidenote: May 9, 1602.

fo. 18^b.]

Moses while he was in the Wildernes had onely the place of a mediator
not a iudge, and therefore we read that whensoeuer the people murmured,
God punished them. But when Moses left his station, and would at any
tyme become a iudge ouer them, God neuer punished the people that
murmured, but Moses that forgot his place. Christ, vntill the latter
day, hath the place of an aduocate, but then he shalbe a iudge of the
quicke and dead.

Wee reade of three exaltacions of our Saviour, one upon the crosse to
purchase our pardon; 2, from the graue for the publication thereof; 3,
to heauen for the application of his resurrection; and all these were
necessarilie to be performed by him, for the consummation of our
salvation.

The Serpent was not lifted up in the Wildernes before the people were
stung by the serpents, and Christ is not to be propounded on the Crosse
as a comfort untill the sting of Synn be felt throughly.

[Sidenote: May 9, 1602.

fo. 19.]

The Scripture telleth us that of all beasts the Serpent is the most
subtill, and his subtilty is obserued in three points: first, when those
nations in Syria and other hott countries found themselues often
endangered by the stinging of venomous beasts, amongst other remedies
they invented charming, which the serpent perceuinge, to auoyd their
cunning and effect his malice, he would stop both his eares, the one by
laying it close to the earth, the other by stopping it with his tayle.
Soe fareth the synner; lett the preacher speake never soe heauenly, yet
will he close one eare with worldly thoughts, and the other with fleshly
imaginacions. The second property of his subtilty is in defending his
heade, where his lyfe lyes, it will soe winde it selfe about that part,
that [it] is a matter of greate difficulty to cutt of a serpentes heade.
In every man there is some radicall and capitall synn, which is
predominant, and this the devil endeavours by all slightes to preserve.
The third point of the serpents subtilty is accounted the attractiue
power which remayneth in the heade deuided from the body, for it is
proved by experience that, yf a serpent be cutt in many peeces, yf his
heade remaine aliue, yet that part will gather the rest togither againe;
soe leave the head synn alive, and it will gather a whole body againe.

As Christ is the heade of the Churche he never suffered nor dyed.

The brasen Serpent was made like the live and true serpents in all
thinges, the sting onely excepted; Christ was made like man in all
things sauing synn.

All which beheld the brasen Serpent were cured; all that beleeve in
Christ are saved.

Remedies are either naturall, by virtue of some inherent qualitie in the
medicine applied; or by diuine influence and institution, when some
thing is effected either beyond or contrary to the force and nature of
that which is used. And this is miraculous; soe was the curing of the
blind by laying spittle and clay upon the eyes of the blinde. Soe the
cure of the lame by washing in the poole of Bethesdas, and soe the
healing of the Israelites by beholdinge the brasen Serpent.

Fayth properly in things beyond or contrary to reason.

[Sidenote: May 9, 1602.

fo. 19^b.]

As by the institucion of marriage the heate of the flesh is abated, soe
by our mysticall connection with Christ the heate of syn is allayed.

MAY 13. AT THE TEMPLE CHURCHE.

[Sidenote: May 13, 1602.

fo. 20.]

One Moore of Baliol Colledge in Oxford; his text Amos iii. 6: "Shall
there be evil in the city and the Lord hath not done it?" _Malum culpe
et malum poene_; of the latter onely God is the author. God may be
said to be the author of synn permissive, and an actor in synn, though
not the author of the synne, for ther is noe action but he is the first
cause of it: and yet he is noe partner or cause of the il in the action,
noe more then he which rideth vpon a lame iade, can be said to be the
cause of his limpinge, though he be the cause of his paceinge, nor a
cunning musician the cause of discordes when he playeth on a lute that
is out of tune. There is a two-fold power in every thing, and both
derived from God; the one of creacion, whereby every thing worketh
according to nature, as the fyre to burne, &c.; and the other of
preservacion, whereby that force is continued, and if the second be
withdrawne the first perisheth, for God is not a mere efficient
externall, as the taylour of the garmente, or a carpenter of the house,
whose effects may continue though their labour continue not, but he is
an inherent continuall assistant cause, soe that yf he withdrawe his
power of preseruing the power of creacion is idle, soe the fire in
furnace could not burne the children, &c.

DE ASCENSIONE DOMINI.

    Non omnis questio est doctrinæ inquisitio,
    Sed quædam etiam est ignorantiæ professio.

Cicatrices Dominus seruauit post resurrectionem et in judicio seruaturus
est, vt fidem resurrectionis astruat: 2. Vt pro omnibus supplicando ea
patri representet: 3. Vt boni quam misericorditer sint redempti videant.
4. Vt reprobi quam iuste sint damnati recognoscant. 5. Vt perpetuæ
victoriæ seu [suæ?] triumphum deferat.

(_Beda._)

[Sidenote: May 16, 1602.

fo. 20^b.]

May 16, 1602. AT PAULES CROSSE.

One Sanders made a Sermon, his text 1 Timoth. vi. 17: "Charge them that
are riche in this world that they be not high mynded; and that they
trust not in vncertayne riches; but in the liuing God, which giueth us
abundantly all things to enioye."

Charge them that they lift up their soules to God in heavenly
meditation, not against God by worldly presumption.

Charge the riche, therefore there were diversitie of condition and
estates of men in the primitiue Churche, not all thinges common in
possession, as the Anabaptists would haue it.

When there came one to Pope Benedict to entreat him to make more
Cardinals, he demaunded first yf he could deuise how he might make more
worldes: for this was to litle for the Cardinals which were already.
Such ambitious covetousnes the Pope noted in those holie ones.

Good meate is often tymes corrupted by a bad stommache, and good
doctrine of small effect with bad hearers. Yett the minister must not be
discouraged: but proceed in his calling, that yf synn cannot be avoyded
yet it may become vnexcusable.

Ephesus, whereof Tymothie was Bishop, was the confluence of honour and
wealth, like our London.

The surgeon is not to be blamed that findes and shewes the corrupt and
rotten parts of the body, but the body which is soe corrupt as to breed
them; soe the preacher not to be disliked for reprehending our synnes,
but our selves for committing things worthy reprehension.

[Sidenote: May, 1602.

fo. 21.]

Good things though common are not to be contemned for their commonness,
noe more then the sunne, the light, the ayre, &c.

The vsuror sometymes looseth both his principall and interest, the
husbandman his labour and his seede, the merchant aduentures lyfe and
goods; but the profession of the preacher is subiect to greater then all
these, for he may loose both his owne and the peoples soules.

It is one of the most heauie judgments that God useth to threaten to
anie nation with whom he is displeased, that he will remoue their
candlesticke and send a famine of the word amongst them.

God made some riche, and some poore, that twoe excellent virtues might
flourishe in the world, charitie in the riche, and patience in the
poore. Pride is the sting of riches. _Tolle superbiam, et diuitiæ non
nocebunt._

A man may speake of his owne riches, soe it be without arrogancy, for it
is a good thinge to speake of the loving kindenes of the Lord.

Magistrates and rich men must not be like the filling stones in a
building, but arche and corner stones, which support others.

When persons of meane worth thrust themselves into places beyond their
condicion and hability, it is all one as yf the rough mortar and pebles
should appeare in the roomes of the squared stones in a fayre building.

Themistocles said there was no musicke so sweete vnto him as to heare
his owne prayses.

In the primitiue Churche the riche men were soe proud that they refused
to receive the Sacrament with the poore.

The examples of the incertaintie of riches by often and suddain
casualtyes should be like Lott's wife to the beholders, to remember and
avoid the like. The multitude followe the riche men, as a swarme of bees
followe a man that carries the hiue of honie combes, rather for the love
of the honie then his person, more for the love of his money then his
manhood.

[Sidenote: 23 May, 1602.

fo. 21^b.]

AT WESTMINSTER.

Dr. Androes, Deane of that Churche,[63] made a Sermon, his text John
xvi. 7: "Yet I tell you the truth, It is expedient for you that I goe
away, for if I goe not away the Comforter will not come vnto you, but if
I depart I will send him vnto you."

    [Footnote 63: Dr. Lancelot Andrewes was Dean from 1601 to 1605, when
    appointed Bishop of Chichester. He was afterwards translated, first
    to Ely, and afterwards to Winchester. This sermon was preached on
    Whitsunday.]

These wordes have reference to the feast which is celebrated this day:
whereupon St. Augustine said, _In verbo fuit promissio missionis, et in
festo missio promissionis_: for soe it is in the second of the Acts.
"When the day of Pentecost was come they were all filled with the Holy
Ghost."

These words were spoken to the disciples when their hearts were full of
sorrowe that Christ must part from them, and therefore had need of
comfort, for they had cause of sorrowe, for yf a man would not willingly
be forsaken of any, as Paule complayneth 2 Tim. iv. 10, that Demas had
forsaken him, would it not greiue the disciples to [be] forsaken by such
a frend as Christ had bin vnto them, whoe in one place speaking vnto
them asketh this question, Which of you hath wanted any thing since you
followed me? And in an other place he compareth them while he continues
with them to the children of the bridechamber.

[Sidenote: 23 May, 1602.

fo. 22.]

Besides the tyme of his departure might aggravate their sorrowes, for
it was then when he foretold soe many persecutions should come upon
them. And therefore here he ministers words of comfort, telling them
that is expedient, and expedient for them, that he should leaue them,
for thereby they should receive a benefit, and that of soe high a nature
as they were better to want him then it. And further for their comfort
he added, that, though he would forsake them, yet he would not leaue
them like orphanes destitute of all frends, but would send them a
Comforter.

And here he made his prayer, which being ended with the Lordes prayer,
he proceeded with his text: and first noted that Christ rendred a reason
of his departure, though it be not requisite alwayes that gouernors
should render a reason to their subiects of all their commaundments, for
in the 1 Sam. the Kinge gives noe other reason but it was his pleasure.
2. It is a mylde reason, not harshe like that in Marke ix. cap. 19 v.
"O, ye faythles generacion, howe long shall I bee with you, how long
nowe shall I suffer you?" but here he deliueres it meekely, and moues
them with expediency, and that not for himselfe, _non nobis, sed vobis
expedit_. And therefore because it is expedient it ought not to greive
them, in soe much as the profit they shall gayne will countervayle the
pleasure which they must forgoe by his departure.

[Sidenote: 23 May, 1602.

fo. 22^b.]

And yet it might seeme strange that they should gayne by loosing him; it
is reade, _Dissolve coelum et veni ad nos, Domine_, and againe, _Veni
ad nos, et mane nobiscum_. But to goe from them what desyre could they
haue? Here may arise three difficulties. 1. The disciples might have
rejoyned, and sayde, What neede, what care wee for any other Comforter?
soe long as you are with us, wee desyre noe other. 2. Why might not the
Holy Ghost have come, and yet Christ tarried with them; could they not
be togither? 3. Howe can it be expedient for anie to loose Christ? what
comfort can there be in those wordes which tell them Christ will forsake
them?

1. Our happiness is to be reunited to God, from whom we were fallen by
our first fathers synn; for as it is the perfection of a branche that is
broken of to be ingrafted againe that it may growe with the body, soe is
it the felicitie of man to be vnited to his Creator. And in this vnion,
as well as God must be partaker of man, soe must man be made partaker of
God, otherwise there can arise noe vnion: the former was effected by
Christ's incarnacion, and the second is perfected by the inspiration of
the Holy Ghost, whoe is as it were the connexion and loue knot of the
deitie. Christ hath as it were made his testament, and the Holie Ghost
is the executor, 1 Cor. xii. Christ is the word: and the Holy Ghost is
the seale of it, 2 Corin. i. 22. "Christ hath purchased redemption for
us:" and the Holy Ghost must give us seisin, Eph. i. 14. And in
conclusion Paule sayth, viii. Rom. 9, "He that hath not the Spirit of
Christ is not his:" and therefore was it expedient and necessary that
the Holy Ghost should come; for, as Christ was _complementum legis_, soe
is the Holy Ghost _complementum Evangelii_.

[Sidenote: 23 May, 1602.

fo. 23.]

2. They may stand togither, they may beare one an others presence, for
the manhood of Christ was conceiued by the Holy Ghost, and the
Euangelist sayth, _Vidi Spiritum descendentem et manentem super eum_.
But yet it was expedient they should not be togither vpon the earth;
expedient, as Augustine noteth, _non necessitatis pondere, sed divini
consilii ordine_, and two reasons are given for [it] in the part of the
Holy Ghost. 1. Yf the Holy Ghost should have come downe while Christ was
upon the earth, whatsoever the Holy Ghost should have done in his person
would have bin ascribed to Christ. 2. He would have appeared to have
bin sent from the Father alone. And soe it would not have bin so
apparant that he proceeded from the Father and the Sonne bothe.

[Sidenote: 23 May, 1602.

fo. 23^b.]

3. Expedient it was that Christ should depart from them, howe good
soeuer his presence was vnto them. Wee knowe that bread is the strength
of mans hart, yet sometymes it may be expedient to fast: our bloud is
the treasury of our lyfe, yet sometymes it is expedient to loose it; our
eyesight is deare and precious vnto us, yet sometymes it is expedient to
sitt in a darke roome. And here it is expedient that Christ should
withdrawe his presence, not corporal onely, but his invisible presence
of grace alsoe. 1. It is expedient that children which growe fond of
their parentes should be weaned. The Apostles were to full of carnall
and terrene cogitacions even after his resurrection; they asked him,
Wilt thou restore the Kingdome to Israell? therefore nowe it was highe
tyme they should put of childishnes and be taught, as Paule sayth that
henceforth they knowe him no more in the fleshe; and this must be
effect[ed] by withdrawing his corporall presence, which they began to
dote upon; and for the taking away the presence of his grace, that was
expedient alsoe. 1. Least being to full they should begin to loath it,
as the Children of Israel did manna in the wildernes. And upon this
reason did the prophet threaten a famine of the word when the people,
being full, contemned it. 2. That they should not growe proud with
abundaunce; the Psalmist sayth, "Yf I say I cannot be removed," and "It
is good that I was in trouble, for before I went wronge." Peter was soe
sure and confident upon himselfe, that yf all the world should haue
forsaken Christ, he would not, and therefore because he stoode soe much
vpon himselfe it was expedient that suche a swollen bladder should be
prickt, as he was till he denied and forswore his master; And even this
withdrawing of grace was a kind of grace, that seing his owne weaknes he
might possesse his soule in humility, with[out] which there is noe grace
to be expected. And therefore, _expedit superbo vt in peccatum incidat_.
And to this purpose are these wordes of Paule that the messengers of
Sathan, _i. e._ temptacions, were sent to punish him, least he should
growe proud.

Christ is our advocate in defending vs when the Divel accuseth vs
falsely; he is our intercessor and mediator by pleading a pardon for vs
when Sathen layes his greatest and truest accusations against us; he is
our high priest to offer sacrifice for vs.

Christ left them not as orphanes, but sent another unto them whoe was
equall with himselfe, otherwise they should have loss by the change.

[Sidenote: 23 May, 1602.

fo. 24.]

The Holy Ghost hath diuers offices and soe diuers effects: he enlightens
the understandinge, and soe is called the Spirit of truth: he certifies
the will, and soe is named the Spirit of Holines: he delivers from the
bondage of Sathan, and soe is the Spirit of comfort, which is the cheife
and very consummacion of all. The Holy Ghost is not given to all in the
same measure, nor the same manner. When Christ breathed vpon his
disciples they received the Holy Ghost; and, when the Holy Ghost came
like fyrey tongues, they were filled with him: breath was warme, but
fyre is hotter: there was heate in both, but not equally. Elias prayed
that the Spirit of [Elijah] might be doubled upon him.

The gifts of the Holy Ghost are obteyned and perfected divers wayes;
vnderstanding and fayth by the word which is the truthe; holynes of
lyfe, by prayer, meditation, and good workes; consolation by receiving
the sacraments.

[Sidenote: 7 Junij, 1602.

fo. 24^b.]

A lewde fellowe coming before Sir W. Rawley to be examined concerninge
some wrecke which he had gotten into his handes, and being demaunded
whether he would sweare to such articles as they would propound, answerd
that he would sweare to anie thinge they would aske him, and then being
admonished he should not be soe rashe in soe serious a matter as
concerned his soule soe nearely, "Fayth," said he, "I had rather trust
God with my soule, then you with my goods." (_Ch. Da._)

[Sidenote: Junii 16^o, 1602.

fo. 25.]

AT PAULE'S CROSSE.

Mr. Barker; his text Luke ix. and the last verse, "Noe man that putteth
his hand to the plough and looketh back is apt to the Kingdome of God."

The fyre from Heaven which consumed the sacrifices in the old lawe was
preserved by continuall addicion of fuell, soe the heauenly virtue of
Chrystian charitie being kindled in the hart of man, must be preserved
by continuall meditacions on the word of God. Yf any should aske why it
was commaunded in Leviticus that the people should offer _primitias_ and
in Exodus that they should alsoe give _decimas_, I should make no other
answer, but that wee should not onely remember our Creator in the days
of our youth, but alsoe serue him in holines and righteousnes all the
dayes of our lyfe.

_Aliud est incepisse, aliud perfecisse._

Some in their liues, like the image in Nebuchadnethers dreame, Dan. ii.,
goodly beginninges, but earthie endings.

The Diuel laboureth most against our perseveraunce because that virtue
onely hath a promise of coronacion.

There be but seven steps in the ladder that leades downe to hell, and
the lowest, saving desperacion, is a custom of synning.

[Sidenote: 6 Junii, 1602.

fo. 25^b.]

These combined discommodities ensue the custome of synning; _fit
diabolus ad oppugnandum audacior, anima ad peccandum promptior, Deus ad
condonandum difficilior._ This virtue of Christian magnanimity or
perseveraunce consisteth in _patiendo et faciendo_: in _patiendo_, 2^o,
in _ferendo et perferendo_; _faciendo_, by continuance in preaching
fayth, and in good lyfe.

Christ compared Christian profession to a plough. And why, 1. to soe
base a thing, 2. to soe laborious a thing, 3. to that onely? 1. That
none howe base soever by condicion or profession should despayre of
attayning Heaven; and meane thinges may be compared with the greatest.
Christ sayth the Kingdom of Heaven is like a litle leaven, and to a
smaller thing then that, it is like a grayne of mustard seede; and here
to a plough, that none might despayre. Simon a tanner, Peter a fisher,
Paul a tent-maker, Joseph a carpenter.

Some great ones, Theophilus. Some ladyes, in the Acts. Some customers,
and some from the beggars, as Lazarus. And yet, that rich men might not
contemne it for the baseness, he compares it to a riche jewell, a
precious stone, &c.

2. The place of the preacher is a calling of great paynes and trauaile.
He selected and spake of the Archbishop of Canterbury as the sunne
amongst the ministers, and the old Deane of Paules[64] compared to the
moone. And Dr. Overall, the newe deane, to the newe moone, gravity and
learning and life; the ministers to starrs.

    [Footnote 64: Dr. Alexander Nowell, died 13th Feb. 1601-2; Dr. John
    Overall was elected 29th May 1602. (Hardy's Le Neve, ii. 315.)]

[Sidenote: Junij 9, 1602.

fo. 26.]

MARTI, lib. 10, Epig. 47.[65]

    I take noe care to gett, my wealth was left me,
    I reape the harvest of what'ere I sowe,
    I stur not muche abroade, home best befits me,
    I ne're received wronge, nor none I owe.
    I travaile not in publique busines,
    Nor ought's within my charge but myne owne soule,
    My body's healthfull, fitt for exercise,
    Myselfe enioys myselfe without controule.
    I have a harmeles thought, an æqual friend,
    My clothes are easy, and my face wants art,
    I greive not when I rest, nor doe I spend
    More tyme in sleepe then nature can impart.
    I cast the worlde behinde, Heauen is my guide,
    I would be what I am, and nought beside;
    But above all, [and] which is all and summe,
    I neither wishe nor feare the day to come.

    TH. SM.

        [Footnote 65: This epigram was a great favourite with our
        forefathers, and consequently there are many translations of it.
        Mr. Collier, in his Bibliographical Account of Early English
        Literature (i. 223), gives two examples, one by D. T. an author
        whose name is not yet discovered, and the other by Ben Jonson,
        printed from his own MS. at Dulwich. We have not been able to
        identify TH. SM. with any certainty.]

[Sidenote: June, 1602.

fo. 26^b.]

    _Arbella Stuarta: tu rara es et bella.
    Henricus Burbonius: rex bonus orbi._

[Sidenote: 12.]

Common preachers worse then common swearers, for these doe abuse but
Gods name, but they abuse Gods worde. (_Curle._)

[Sidenote: 15.]

Upon a tyme when the late Lord Treasurer, Sir William Cecile, came
before Justice Dyer[66] in the Common Place with his rapier by his side,
the Justice told him that he must lay aside his long penknife yf he
would come into that Court; this speache was free, and the sharper,
because Sir William was then Secretary. (_Bradman._)

    [Footnote 66: Sir James Dyer, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas from
    1559 to 1582. He was of the Middle Temple, the Inn of Court to which
    our Diarist belonged. (Foss's Judges, v. 480.)]

There is nowe a table placed for the barresters crosse over the hall by
the cuppord, which one called St. Albanes, because he said it was in the
waye to Duns-table.

[Sidenote: 16.]

"Roome! Roome!" said one, "Here comes a woman with a cupbord on hir
head;" of one that had sold hir cupboard to buy a taffaty hat.
(_Franklin._)

[Sidenote: 16 June, 1602.

fo. 27.]

Kentish tayles are nowe turned to such spectacles, soe that yf a man put
them on his nose he shall haue all the land he can see. (_Idem._)

[Sidenote: 22.]

Sergeant Heale, since he became the Queens Sergeant, came to the Lord
Keeper,[67] desyring that he would heareafter give him more gratious
hearinge; otherwise, his clients already beginning to fall from him, he
would nowe betake himself to his ease in the country, and leave this
troublesome kinde of lyfe. The Lord Keeper made him noe other answere
but said, yf that were his resolucion he doubted[68] not but the
blessing of Issakar would light upon him. (_Mr. Bennet narr._) _Vide_
Gen. xlix. 14: "Issachar shall be a stronge asse couching downe betweene
two burdens; and he shall see that rest is good; and that the land is
pleasaunt, and he shall bowe his shoulders to beare, and he shalbe
subiect unto tribute."

    [Footnote 67: Egerton, Lord Keeper from 1594 to 1603. Sergeant Hele
    was one of the legal butts of the time. (See Foss's Judges, vi. 141;
    Egerton Papers, pp. 315, 391, 399.)]

    [Footnote 68: doubt it, MS.]

[Sidenote: June 20, 1602.

fo. 27^b.]

AT PAULES, ONE OF BALIOL COLLEDGE IN OXFORD.

His text iii. Jonah, 4 et 5. "Yet forty dayes and Niniuy shall be
destroyed. 5. So the people of Nineueh beleeued God," &c. He diuided his
text into Jonahs sermon to the people of Nineueh, and the peoples
repentaunce at the sermon; the former consists of mercy, "yett fourty
dayes," and justice, "and Nineueh shall be destroyed;" Gods patience and
his iudgment. He might have sayd, as the prophet David sayd, "My song
shall be of mercy and iudgment."

Four things in the effect of the Sermon; fayth in beleuing God, and that
was not fruitles. 2. fasting, and that was not frivolous. 3. their
attyre, that was not costly, but sack cloth. 4. their number, that was
not small, from the greatest to the lowest. As Noah's doue came from the
floud with an oliue braunch in the mouth, soe this heauenly dove (for
soe Jonah signifieth) came from the waters of the sea with a sermon of
mercy in his cry, "Yett fourty dayes."

God is pitifull; it was Christ's commaundement to his Apostles that they
should say "Peace be vnto you" when they entred into anie house.

[Sidenote: 20 June, 1602.

fo. 28.]

Noted by Jonahs crying in the middest of such a city, that the preachers
must not be timerous to tell anie of their faults, nor feare the person
of anie man. Yet he reprehended those which are to sharpe reprehenders
without circumstaunce. Such as Bernard calleth _non correptores, sed
corrosores_, such may be termed _bilis et salsugo_, like the people of
India which are said to barke instead of speakinge; _canis et tuba
vitiorum._ But, as he misliked those sharpe biters, soe must he needes
speake against such preachers as flatter greate men, and sowe cushions
under their elbowes. They are like Heliotropium, which turnes the flower
with the sunne, though a cloud be interposed, soe they follow greatnes
though clouded with synn; like the riuer Jordan, turnes and windes euery
way; speake nothing but silken wordes; at last the[y] become _serui
multitudinis_; say anie thing to please the people.

Nineveh, as St. Augustine in his booke _De Civitate Dei_, signifieth not
the citie but the synns of the people; and soe the prophecy verryfied,
for that synn was destroyed by their repentaunce within 40 dayes. But he
rather inclined to expound it by way of an implyed condicion, that they
should be overthrowen vnles they repented; soe was that prophecy of Isah
understoode to Hezekiah, Isaiah xxxviii. "Thou shalt dy and not live."

God is slowe in punishing, yet _tarditas poenæ gravitate pensatur_.

Gratious and righteous is the Lord in sparing and punishing.

The synne of Nineveh was Idolatry.

[Sidenote: 20 June, 1601.[69]

fo. 28^b.]

    [Footnote 69: There is a chronological confusion, either of the
    writer or the bookbinder, in this and subsequent entries. Having in
    vain endeavoured to unravel it, we have thought it better to follow
    the manuscript as it stands.]

DR. BUCKRIDGE,[70] AT THE TEMPLE CHURCHE.

    [Footnote 70: Subsequently President of St. John's, Oxford, and
    occupant in succession of several episcopal sees. He died Bishop of
    Ely in 1631.]

Compared the lawe of nature to the night, reason to the starres, the
written lawe to the morning or dawning of the day, and the lawe of grace
to the sunnshine of the day; the first to the blade, the second to the
eare, the third to the seede of corne.

Synn must be like an hedge of thornes sett about, not within, our garden
to keepe us in goodnes. In tymes past men were afeard[71] to committ
synn, but ready to make confession; nowe the world is changed, for nowe
every one dares comitt anie synne, but is ashamed to make confession.

    [Footnote 71: "ashamed" is interlined in the MS. above "afeard."]

[Sidenote: 25 June, 1602.

fo. 29.]

Mr. Foster of Lyncolnes Inn told these jeastes of Sir Thomas Moore as
we went to Westminster. One which had bin a familiar acquaintaunce of
Sir Th. Moores in his meaner fortunes, came to visit him when he was in
the height of his prosperitie. Sir Th. amongst other parts of
entertaynement shewed him a gallery which he had furnished with good
variety of excellent pictures, and desyred his frendes iudgment which he
liked best; but he making difficulty to prefer anie Sir Tho. shewed him
the picture of a deathes head with the word _Memento morieris_, which he
commended as most excellent for the deuise and conceit. The gent. being
desyrous to knowe what he conceiued extraordinary in soe common a
sentence, he told him, "Sir, you remember sometymes you borrowed some
monie of me, but I cannot remember that you have remembred to repaye it:
it is not much, and though I be chauncellor I have vse for as little,
and nowe me thinkes this picture speakes vnto you _Memento Mori æris_,
remember to pay Moore his money."

After he was deprived of his place and dignity, whereas his gentlemen
were wont after he was gone forth of church to signifie to their lady
that his lordship was gone before, himselfe upon a Sunday came from his
seate when prayer was ended, opened his ladyes pue dore, saying,
"Madame, his lordship is gone before" (alluding to the losse of his
place); and then, "Come wife, nowe wee may goe togither and talke."

[Sidenote: 13 March, 1601.

fo. 29^b.]

Mr. Watts and Mr. Danvers had fiery wordes.

Commonly those which speake most against Tullie are like a dog which
comming into a roome where he espies a shoulder of mutton lying upon
some high place, fells to barking at it, because he cannot reache it.
(_Watts._)

Vpon a tyme when Burbidge played Richard III. there was a citizen grone
soe farr in liking with him, that before shee went from the play shee
appointed him to come that night vnto hir by the name of Richard the
Third. Shakespeare ouerhearing their conclusion went before, was
intertained and at his game ere Burbidge came. Then message being
brought that Richard the Third was at the dore, Shakespeare caused
returne to be made that William the Conqueror was before Richard the
Third. Shakespeare's name William. (_Mr. Touse?_)

[Sidenote: 14.]

Mr. Fleetewood the Recorder[72] sitting in judgment when a prisoner was
to have his clergy and could not read, he saued him with this ieast,
"What, will not that obstinat knave reade indeede? Goe take him away and
whip him." (_Mr. Bramstone.[73]_)

    [Footnote 72: Fleetwood, like the Diarist, was of the Middle Temple.
    Many of his curious letters were published by Sir Henry Ellis (Orig.
    Letters, 1st Ser. vol. ii.)]

    [Footnote 73: The Lord Chief Justice from 1685 to 1642, whose
    Autobiography was published by the Camden Society.]

He imprisoned one for saying he had supt as well as the Lord Maior, when
he had nothing but bread and cheese.

[Sidenote: fo. 30.

2 Marche, 1601.]

This day there was a great Court of Merchant Adventurers; two were sent
from the Counsell to sitt and see their proceedings at their Courtes,
and to make relacion. At this Court two questions were moved. 1. Whether
their Companie were able to vent all the clothes made in England yf they
might choose their place in the Lowe Countries, and be ayded by hir
Majestie for the execution of their orders? Resolved that they are able.
2. Whether they can continue a Companie to trade yf the Earle of
Cumberlandes licence take effect, whereby he hath liberty to ship over
what cloth he pleaseth, contrary to hir Majesties patents and graunts to
the merchaunts? Resolved by handes that they cannot. (_Mr. Hull nar._)

Their Courts consist of one Gouernor, one Deputy, a Secretary, and these
sitt at a table raysed a little, and 24 Assistants sitt about; the
autority of these continues but six moneths; these speake, heare, and
iudge of other mens speaches in Court. The greater part of the present
at any Court carries the iudgment. (_Idem._)

[Sidenote: fo. 30^b.

3 May, 1602.]

Mr. Touse told that in the last cirquit into Yorkeshire the Vice
President of Yorke would have had the upper hand of Justice Yeluerton,
but he would not yeld. (_Mr. Touse._)

Long since, when Justice Manwood[74] roode Somersetshire circuit with
Lorde Anderson, there happened a great quarrell between the Lord Sturton
and Sir Jo. Clifton, in which affray the Lord Anderson himselfe, onely
with his cap in his hand, tooke a sword from a very lustie tall fellowe.
Of such a courage is Anderson. (_Idem._)

    [Footnote 74: Sir Roger Manwood was a Justice of the Common Pleas
    1572 to 1578, and Lord Chief Baron from 1578 to 1593. Sir Edmund
    Anderson was Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas from 1582 to
    1603. (Foss's Judges, v. 516; vi. 51.)]

My chamberfellow[75] told me of Mr. Long's opposition against him, and
howe he had ouermatcht him; told me of his owne preferment to Sir Robert
Cecile by the Lord Cheif Baron Periams and Lord Cheif Justice Pophams
meanes, almost without his owne suite. By Sir Roberts fauour he obtayned
the cancelling of an obligacion wherein his father[76] stoode bound to
Auditor Tucke not to vse that office or receive the profits for a
certaine tyme.

    [Footnote 75: Edward Curle, who is so frequently mentioned in other
    parts of the Diary. At this time he was keeping his terms in the
    Middle Temple preparatory to being called to the bar. He had been
    admitted of the Inn, _specialiter_, on the 29th Nov. 1594. The
    Diarist subsequently married Curle's sister Anne.]

    [Footnote 76: William Curle of Hatfield, one of the Auditors of the
    Court of Wards.]

[Sidenote: 4.]

Those which presume upon repentaunce at the last gaspe by [the] theeves
example on the crosse, doe as yf a man should spurr his horse till he
speake because wee reade that Balams asse did soe when his maister beate
him.

This day Serjeant Harris was retayned for the plaintife, and he argued
for the defendant; soe negligent that he knowes not for whom he
speakes.

Soe many accions of _Quare impedit_ in the Common Place, that it were
well a _Quare impedit_ were brought against the _Quare impedit_ for
hindering other accions.

[Sidenote: fo. 31.

28 June, 1602.]

One that would needes be married in all the [_sic_] hast, though he were
soe verry a beggar that the preist told him he would not marry him
because he had not money sufficient to pay him his duty for that
service, "Why then," said he, "I pray you, Sir, marry me as far as that
will goe. Nowe I am here I must needes have something ere I goe."

A Puritan scholemaister that taught litle children in their horne
bookes, would not have them say "Christ crosse A. &c." but "Black spott
A." Another being to invit his frend, desyred him come and take part of
a Nativity pie at Christ tyde with him.

When a Puritan that had lost his purse made great moane as desyrous to
haue it againe, another minister (meaning to try his spirit) gaue forth
that he was able to helpe him to it by figur-casting; whereupon the
Puritan resorted vnto him; and the day appointed for the purpose, the
other told him that when he caste a paper into the chaffing dishe of
coales which he placed before them, he should looke in the glasse to see
the visage of him that had it; but the flame being too short for him to
aduise well what face it was, he earnestly entreated to see it againe.
"Oh," said the other, "I perceue well the cause why you could not
discerne it was that you trust to much in God." "Whoe, I," said the
Puritan, "I trust noe more in God then the post doth. Lett me see it
once againe." Such hyppocrytes are those professors. (_Ch. Dauers._)

[Sidenote: fo. 31^b.

May 4.]

Mr. Fleetwood, after he was gone from supper, remembred a case to the
purpose he was talking of before he went, and came againe to tell vs of
it, which Mr. Bramston said was as yf a reueller, when he had made a
legg at the end of his galliard, should come againe to shewe a tricke
which he had forgotten.

This day there was a strange confused pressing of souldiers, carrying
soe to the ships, that they were thrust togither under hatches like
calues in a stall.

[Sidenote: 6.]

When hir Majestic had giuen order that Spenser should haue a reward for
his poems, but Spenser could haue nothing, he presented hir with these
verses:

    It pleased your Grace vpon a tyme
    To graunt me reason for my ryme,
    But from that tyme vntill this season
    I heard of neither ryme nor reason.

    (_Touse._)

A gentleman whose father rose by the lawe, sitting at the benche while a
lawyer was arguying in a case against the gentleman, touching land which
his father purchased, the gentleman, more collerick then wise, sayd the
lawyer would prate and lye, and speake anie thing for his fee: "Well,"
said the lawyer, "yf your father had not spoken for a fee, I should haue
noe cause to speake in this cause to day." The posterity of lawyers hath
more flourished then that either of the clergy or citisens.

[Sidenote: fo. 32.

August 1602.]

_Notes out of a copie of a letter written by way of dedicacion of_
CHARLES THE FIFTH HIS INSTRUCTIONS TO HIS SONNE PHILLIP: TRANSLATED
OUT OF SPANISHE, _and sent to hir Majestie_ BY LORD H. HOWARD.[77]

    [Footnote 77: Created Earl of Northampton in 1604-5, died 1614.]

Hir Majesties affections are not carued out of flint, but wrought out of
virgin wax, and hir royall hart hath ever suted him in mercy, whom hir
state doth represent in Maiesty.

If anie sentence were mistaken by equivocacion of wordes, or ambiguity
in sence, I onely blame the stintles rage of destinie, which ever
carryeth the best shaftes of my unluky quiuer to such endes as are most
distant from the white I aymed at.

Since I began, each fruit hath answered his blossom, each grayne his
seede, all eventes there hopes; my selfe onely, more vnfortunate then
all the rest, have sowne with teares, but can reape with noe reuolucion.

I have presumed once againe (least the ground of my deuocion, by lying
to long fallowe, might seeme either waxen wyld or ouergrowne with
weedes,) to breake the barren soyle of myne vnfruitfull brayne, that
prosperous successe may rather want at all tymes to myne endeuors, then
endeuor to my loyall determinacion.

You are that sunne to me, whose going downe leaues nothing but a night
of care.

The divel, like those painters which are skilfull in the art of