There succeeded in less than one year's vacation, (as hath been already told) Mr. Richard Fletcher,<261> a comely and courtly prelate; but I may say, as Tully said, when he had commended King Deiotarus<262> to Caesar, by the name of Rex frugi, a frugal or thrifty prince, he straight addeth this parenthesis, quanquam Reges hoc verbo laudari non solent; although, saith he, kings are not accustomed to be praised with this word thrifty. So I might say, that comely and courtly are no fit epithets for the true praise of a prelate. I remembered before, how Ely had been long vacant, almost 20 years, and Bristol and Oxford, though both new erected bishoprics, (saved as it were out of the ruins and ashes of the abbeys) were thought in some danger again to be lost. For Bristol was held in commendam,<263> and Oxford not much to be commended; wherefore about the year [15]88, that same mirabilis annus, some of the zealous courtiers, whose devotion did serve them more to prey on the church than pray in the church, harkened out for fit supplies to these places, and sent their agents to find out some men that had great minds, and small means or merits, that would be glad to leave a small deanery to make a poor bishopric, by new leasing out lands, that were now almost out of lease; but to free him from the guilt of it, the poor bishop must have no part of the fine. There was then a dean, whom I may not name; (but to give the stork more life, I will name his place for name sake of Coventry,) a man of great learning, but of no great living. To him was sent one of these foxes, "the little foxes that destroy our vines, and make small grapes," with this favourable message, that his honourable lord had sent him to him, to let him know how much he respected his good gifts (in which word also, there might be some equivocation) and though it was hard in those times to pleasure men of his worth, according to their merit, yet my lord in favour of him, hath bethought him of this course; that whereas Salisbury was then like to be void by a remove, if this dean would for the present take the bishopric of Oxford, which was then in a long vacation also, and make leases, &c. he should the next year be removed to Salisbury. The honest dean, that in his soul detested such sacrilege, made this mannerly and ingenuous answer:—"Sir, I beseech you commend my humble service to his honourable lordship; but I pray you tell his lordship, that in my conscience, Oxford is not my right way from Coventry to Salisbury." What became of Oxford I shall touch, and but touch, hereafter.

            I come now to bishop Fletcher, that made not so much scruple to take Bristol in his way from Peterborough to Worcester, though that were wide of the right way, upon the sinister or bow hand many miles; as the card of a good conscience will plainly discover. I fortuned to be one day at the Savoy with Mr. Secretary Walsingham, where Mr. Fletcher was then upon his dispatch for Bristol; a familiar friend of his meeting him there, bad "God give him joy, my lord elect of Bristol;" which he (taking kindly and courtly upon him) answered, that "it had pleased indeed the higher powers so to dispose of him;" but said his friend in his ear,—" Do you not lease out tot et tot to such and such?" He clapping his hand on his heart, in a good graceful fashion, replied with the words of Naman the Syrian,<264> "Herein the Lord be merciful to me:"—but there was not an Elizeus to bid him "go in peace." What shall I say for him? Non erat hoc hominis vitium sed temporis.<265> I cannot say so; for your Highness knows I have written otherwise in a book of mine I gave you, Lib. 3, num. 80.

Alas, a fault confessed were half amended,
But sin is doubled that is thus defended;
I know a right wise man says and believes
Where no receivers are, would be no thieves.<266>

            Wherefore at the most I can but say, dividatur. He was a well-spoken man, and one that the Queen gave good countenance to, and dis-covered her favour to him, even in her reprehensions, as Horace saith of Mecænas;

            —rerum tutela mearum
Cum sis, et prave sectum stomacheris ob unguem<267>

for she found fault with him once for cutting his beard too short: whereas [the] good lady (if she had known it) she should have found fault with him for cutting his bishopric so short. He could preach well, and would speak boldly, and yet keep decorum. He knew what would please the Queen, and would adventure on that, though it offended others. Once I remember there had been two Councillors sworn, within compass of one year, and neither of them had a gray hair at that time, whereupon he glanced in his sermon at it with a sentence of Seneca, against juvenile consilium, privatum commodum, investum odium: which Mr. Daniel, upon a better occasion, did put into English verse, in this sort,

That we may truly say, these spoil'd the state,

Young counsel, private gain, and partial hate<268>

            The Queen, as I said, found no fault with his liberal speech, but the friends of these councillors taxing him for it, I have heard he had this pretty shift, to tell the friends of either of them he meant it by the other.

            Being bishop of London, and a widower, he married a gallant lady and widow, sister to Sir George Gifford, the pensioner, which the Q. seemed to be extremely displeased at, not for the bigamy of a bishop (for she was free of any such superstition) but out of her general dislike of clergymen's marriage: this being a marriage that was talked of at least nine days. Yet in a while he found means to pacify her so well, as she promised to come, and I think came to a house he had at Chelsea. For there was a stair and a door made of purpose for her in a bay-window; of which, pleasant wits descanted diversely: some said, it was for joy, to-how he would (as the proverb is) cast the house out of the window for her welcome; some more bitingly called it the impress, or emblem, of his entry into his first bishopric, viz. not at the door, but at the window. But certain it is, that the Queen being pacified, and he in great jollity, with his fair lady, and her carpets and cushions in his bed-chamber, died suddenly, taking tobacco in his chair, saying to his man that stood by him, whom he loved very well, "Oh boy, I die!"—whereupon many bolts<268> were roved after him, and some spitefully feathered: which, both for charity sake, as well as brevity, I will omit. But this blunt one, not knowing out of whose quiver it first came, but fitting a gray goose wing, I will produce as his most vulgar epitaph:

Here lies the first prelate made Christendom see
A bishop a husband unto a Lady;
The cause of his death was secret and hid,
He cried out, "I die!"—and e'en so he did.

            He was buried in the church, the dean and chapter of Paul's not being so scrupulous as they of York were, the 9th of Henry the first, who because their archbishop died suddenly, buried him without the church-porch, notwithstanding he had been their great benefactor.<269>

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