A briefe view of the state of the Church of England as it stood in Q. Elizabeths and King James his reigne, to the yeere 1608 being a character and history of the bishops of those times ... / written ... by Sir John Harington ..., Knight.

Doctor Edwin Sands.

As those that saile from Flanders or Ireland, to London or Bristoll, being past the tempestuous and broken seas, and now in sight of the Harbour, yet even their fear to miscarry sometime by mistaking the Channell, are oft so perplext, as one

bids to set saile againe, another advises to cast Anchor; so is it now with me, draw∣ing toward the end of this my short and voluntary voyage: I remember a ship of London once that having past the Goodwin Sands very safe, and sayling on this side Black-wall to come up to Ratcliefe, struck on the black Rock at the point below Greenwich, and was almost cast away. I have, as your Highnesse sees past already the Godwins, if I can aswell passe over this E'dwin Sands, I will goe roamer of Greenwich Rock, not forgetting to vaile as becomes me in passing by, and if the spring Tide serve, come to Anchor about Richmond. For I am entring now to write of an Archbishop, who though he dyed twenty yeares since in that Anno mirabili of 88. yet he lives still in his off-spring, having a sonne of his name that both speakes and writes admirably, whose pro∣fession, though it be not of Religion as his fathers was, yet never did his fathers prea∣ching shew better what to follow, then his writings shew what to shun; if my Pen therefore should wrong his father, his Pen no lesse might wrong me. I must appeale therefore for my justification in this point to the most indifferent censurers, and to

yours especially sweet Prince, for whose fake I write; for ifI should let passe a mat∣ter so notorious as that of this Archbishop of Yorke and Sir Robert Stapleton, it were so willfull an omission as every one might accuse me of; and if I should speake of either partially and against my owne conscience and knowledge, I should much more accuse my selfe. Here then is the Scylla and Carybdis that I saile betweene, and if I faile of my right course, I shall be driven to say as a filly preacher did upon an unlike occasion, and much lesse to his purpose when he hapned unawares to have a more learned Auditory then he expected.

Incidi in ancillam cupiens vitare Caribden.

But the Story that I make this long in∣troduction unto is shortly this. About 25. yeares fince there was great kindnesse, and had long continued between Archbishop Sands and Sir Robert Stapleton a Knight of Yorkeshire, whom your Highnesse hath often seen, who in those dayes for a man well spoken, properly seen in Languages, a comely and goodly Personage, had scant an equall, and (except Sir Philip

Sidney) no superiour in England: for which Reasons the Arch-bishop of all his Neighbours and Countreymen, did make a speciall account of him. About the year 83. also he was High-Sheriffe of York-shire, and met the Judges with seven score men in sutable Liveries, and being at this time likewise a Widdower, he wooed and won, and wedded soon after, one of the best reputed Widdows in the West of England. In this felicity he sail∣ed with ful sails, but somewhat too high, and no lesse the Arch-bishop in like pro∣sperity of wealth, and friends and Chil∣dren, yet seeming above all, to joy in the friendship of this Knight, who answered in all good correspondence, not onely of outward complement, but inward com∣fort; but well said the Spanish Poet,

Nulli te facias nimis sodalem, Gaudebis minus & minus. dolebis. Too much Companion make your self to none, Your joy will be the lesse, and less your mone.

These two so friendly Neighbours and Consorts swimming in this Calm of con∣tent, at last hapned to fall foul one on an∣other by this occasion. The Knight in

his great good fortunes, having as great defigns among other things, had laid the foundation of a fair house, or rather Palace, the model whereof he had brought out of Italy, which house he in∣tended to name Stapletons stay; and for that cause invited the Arch-bishop in good kindness to see it, and requested him for the more credit, and as it were, blessing to the house, that his grace would give it the foresaid name. But when the Arch-bishop had fully beheld it, and in his Judgement found it fitter for a Lord Treasurer of England, then for a Knight of York-shire. He said to him, would you have me call this intended House Stapletons Stay. Nay rather let me say to you, stay Stapleton; for if you go forward to set up this House, it will pull you down. How often a man loses a friend with a jest, and how grievous it is for a mans vanity to be crost in the hu∣mour. This speech of my Lords that I should think, intended friendly, uttered faithfully, and applyed even fatherly un∣to him, he took in so deep disdain and despite, that howsoever he smothered it for the present, from that time forward he sought a mean to revenge it. And

wanting neither wit to devise, nor cou∣rage to execute his design, he found out, or at least he supposed he had found a stratagem, not onely to wreak this scorn on the good Bishop that mistrusted no∣thing, but also to make the old mans purse pay for the finishing of the new house. He acquaints him with an Officer in my Lords house, some malecontent that had been denyed a Lease. These two devise, that when my Lord should lie next at Doncaster, where the Hostess of the house having been (formerly I sup∣pose) Mistriss Sands Maid, was bold sometimes to bring his Lordship a Cawdle to his Beds side (for in charity I may surmise no worse) Sir Robert should also by chance come and host at the same house. This bad Wife and her good man are made partakers and parties of this stratagem, her part was but a naked part, viz. to slip into my Lords Bed in her smock, mine Hoast must sodainly be jea∣lous, and swear that he holds his reputa∣tion, though he be but a poor man, more dear then that he can indure such an in∣dignity, and thereupon calls Sir Robert Stapleton, brings him to the Bishops Chamber in his Night-gown, takes them

in bed together with no small exclamati∣on. The Knight that acted his part with most art, and leaft suspition, takes great pains to pacifie the Hoast, conjures all that were admitted to secresie and si∣lence, and sending all to their Lodgings without tumult, asketh of my Lord how this came to passe. The Bishop tells him with a great Protestation, that he was be∣trayd by his man and his Hoast, little su∣specting the Knight to be of the Quorum. The Knight sooths him in all he said, condoles the great mischance, is sorrow∣full for the danger, and carefull for the honour of the Bishop, and specially the Church.

Proh superi quantum mortalia pecior a caecae Noctis habent? ipso sceleris molimine (Miles) Creditur esse pius. The distressed Arch∣bishop distrusting no fraud in him, ask∣eth his advise in this disaster, and follow∣ing his counsel from time to time, gives the Hoast a peece of money, the false Of∣ficer a Farm, and the Knight for his tra∣vail in this matter many friendly recom∣pences. But when he found after all this smoothing and soothing, that he grew so bold at last to presse him beyond all good manner, for the good Mannour

of Soothwell, then he found that in sooth all was not well, and was even compell'd too late, to that he might much better have done much sooner, viz. To com∣plain to the Lords of the Councel, and to his ancient and dear friend, the Earl of Leicester (for whose Father he had almost lost his life) by whose help, he got them call'd to the Star-chamber. Ore tenus, where they were for this conspiracy con∣victed, fined and imprisoned. The fame, or rather the infamy of this matter spe∣cially before their conviction was far and diversly spread, according as the Report∣ers favoured or disfavoured either: and the friends of each side had learned their tale so perfect, that many long time after, held the first impression they had recei∣ved, notwithstanding the censure and sen∣tence in the Starr-chamber. Part where∣of being, that the Knight should publick∣ly acknowledge how he had slandered the Arch-bishop, which he did in words conceived to that purpose accordingly, yet his friends gave out, that all the while he carried a long Whetstone hanging out at the Pocket of his sleeve, so conspicu∣ous, as men understood his meaning was to give himself the lie, which he would

not in another matter have taken of any man. But thus the Bishop had a Con∣quest which he had no great comfort of, and lived but few years after it, and the Knight had a foile that he would not seem much daunted with, and lived to have part of his fine releast by his Maje∣sties clemency; but yet he tost up and down all his life without any great con∣tentment, from Wiltshire into Wales, and thence to the Isle of Man, a while to Chel∣sey, but little to York-shire where his stay should have been, so that of this story I could collect many documents, both for Bishops and Knights, but that I shun pro∣lixity in a matter no way pleasing. How∣beit because one P. R. or R. P. for he can turn his name as Mountebank turns his Capp, in his Epistle before the Reso∣lution (a Book much praised by Sir Ed∣win Sand, hath a scoffe after his manner at this Hostess of Doncaster; I would pray him but to peruse the Life of St. Bernard, not that of their lying Legend, but that which unworthily perhaps goeth among his most worthy works, written by William Abbot in five Books. There he shall find in the third Chapter of his first Book, how that same maidenly Saint

was subject to the like manner of scan∣dall: first, of a young woman lying by him in naked bed, half a night when him∣self was not 30 year old, and yet we must believe he toucht her not; and next of his Hostess also offering three timesin one night to come to his Bed, and he crying out each time, Latrones, Latrones, Theeves▪ Theeves, which our Bishop had much more cause to have cryed, and had he but remembred it, as I doubt not but he had read it, he might peradventure have dissolved the pack with it. To utter mine own conceit franckly, if Parsons conje∣cture were true, that by humane frailty this Prelate had in his younger dayes been too familiar with this woman, which is said to passe but as a veniall sin among those of his Profession, yet was the Knights practise very foul, and the Lords censure very just that condemned him: for I heard Judge Anderson, a learned and stout Judge, condemn one for a Rape, up∣on the Oath of a Woman (notwithstand∣ing, the man affirmed, and the Woman denyed not, but she had often in former times yielded her self to his lust) because it seemed she had repented that course of life, in betaking her to a Husband. So my

Lord, if he had once such a fault, yet now that the fault had left him, as well as he the fault, had just cause to complain, and the Knights practise was blame-wor∣thy to seek to entrap him thereby to the spoile of the Church and disgrace of his calling. And the Arch-bishop did much noblier to hazard this obloquie of some idle tongues then to have incurred the greater scandall of betraying his Church. To conclude therefore, I wish all Squires and all Knights to be fuller of reverence toward Bishops and Arch-bishops, and not to oppose or contest with them. The play at Chess, a Game not devised for or by fooles may teach, that the Bishops due place is nearest the King, and though some Knight can leap better over the pawns heads, yet ofttimes he leaps short, where the Bishops power, if you crosse it, reacheth the length of the whole Pro∣vince.