CHAPTER VII

FAMILY LETTERS

The following letters carry on the story of the Shrewsburys in domestic and official detail for the next year. The second stepson of Bess was by this time not only a married man, but a member of Parliament and a courtier. He and his eldest stepbrother and brother-in-law, Henry Cavendish, represented their own county. His brother, Francis Talbot, the Earl’s heir, who was also at Court, had been entrusted with diplomatic duties, and had already managed to get into mischief. Neither he nor Gilbert, who survived him, ever took such an important social or official position as that achieved by their father and stepmother. But in youth they were about the Court, and they held their parents in proper awe. Their occasional letters imply a strong sense of family duty and kinship in little things as in great. The first letter touches on a purely domestic matter. It is curious that, seeing his wife was his stepmother’s eldest daughter, Gilbert should not have referred to the Countess for advice and approval.

“My Lord,—My brother told me of the letter your Lordship sent him for the putting away of Morgan and Marven; and said he rejoiced that your Lordship would so plainly direct and command him what to do, and he trusteth hereafter to please your Lordship in all his doings; whereunto, according to my duty, I prayed him to have care above all manner of things, and advised him to keep secret your Lordship’s directions.

“I have found out a sober maiden to wait on my wife, if it shall please your Lordship. She was servant unto Mrs. Southwell, now Lord Paget’s wife, who is an evil husband, and will not suffer any that waited on his wife before he married her to continue with her. As it behoves me, I have been very inquisitive of the woman, and have heard very well of her behaviour; and truly I do repose in her to be very modest and well given, and such a one as I trust your Lordship shall not mislike; but if it be so that she shall not be thought meet for my wife, she will willingly repair hither again. Her name is Marget Butler; she is almost twenty-seven years old. Mr. Bateman[18] hath known her long, and thinketh very well of her: she is not very beautiful, but very cleanly in doing of anything chiefly about a sick body, to dress anything fit for them. I humbly pray your Lordship to send me word whether I shall make shift to send her down presently, for she is very desirous not to spend her time idly. Thus, most humbly desiring your Lordship’s daily blessing, with my wonted and continual prayer for your Lordship’s preservation in all honour and health, long to continue, I end.

“At the Court this Monday, the 25th of May, 1573.

“Your Lordship’s most humble and obedient son, “GILBERT TALBOT.”

The next letter is largely given up to gossip, and places the Earl of Leicester, who constantly writes wise and appreciative letters to the Shrewsburys, in the gay, vivid light in which he is best known to posterity. It is exhaustive, and touches on all the reports the writer can gather as to public criticism of Shrewsbury as gaoler, besides making allusion to the Earl’s financial difficulties.

“My most humble duty remembered, right honourable, my singular good Lord and father; because of the convenience of the bearer hereof, I have thought good to advertise your Lordship of the estate of some here at the Court, as near as I have learned by my daily experience. My Lord Treasurer, even after the old manner, dealeth with matters of the State only, and beareth himself very uprightly. My Lord Leicester is very much with her Majesty, and she shows the same great, good affection that she was wont; of late he has endeavoured to please her more than heretofore. There are two sisters now in the Court that are very far in love with him, as they have been long—my Lady Sheffield and Frances Howard;[19] they (of like striving who shall love him better) are at great wars together, and the Queen thinketh not well of them and not the better of him; by this means there are spies over him. My Lord of Sussex goes with the tide, and helps to back others; but his own credit is sober, considering his estate; he is very diligent in his office, and takes great pains. My Lord of Oxford is lately grown into great credit; for the Queen’s Majesty delighteth more in his personage and his dancing and valiantness than any other. I think Sussex doth back him all that he can; if it were not for his fickle head he would pass any of them shortly. My Lady Burghley unwisely has declared herself, as it were, jealous, which is come to the Queen’s ear; whereat she has been not a little offended with her, but now she is reconciled again. At all these love matters my Lord Treasurer winketh, and will not meddle anyway. Hatton is sick still; it is thought he will very hardly recover his disease, for it is doubted it is in his kidneys; the Queen goeth almost every day to see how he doth. Now are there devices (chiefly by Leicester, as I suppose, and not without Burleigh’s knowledge) to make Mr. Edward Dyer as great as ever was Hatton; for now, in this time of Hatton’s sickness, the time is convenient. It is brought thus to pass: Dyer lately was sick of a consumption, in great danger; and, as your Lordship knows, he has been in displeasure these two years, it was made the Queen believe that his sickness came because of the continuance of her displeasure towards him, so that unless she would forgive him he was like not to recover, and hereupon her Majesty has forgiven him and sent unto him a very comfortable message; now he is recovered again, and this is the beginning of the device. These things I learn of such young fellows as myself. Two days since Dr. Wilson told me he heard say that your Lordship, with your charge, was removed to Sheffield Lodge, and asked me whether it was so or not: I answered I heard so also; that you were gone thither of force till the castle could be cleansed. And, further, he wished to know whether your Lordship did so by the consent of the Council, or not: I said I knew not that, but I was certain your Lordship did it on good ground. I earnestly desired him, of all friendship, to tell me whether he had heard anything to the contrary; which he sware he never did, but asked because, he said, once that Lady should have been conveyed from that house. Then I told him what great heed and care you had to her safe-keeping; especially being there that good numbers of men, continually armed, watched her day and night, and both under her windows, over her chamber, and of every side her; so that, unless she could transform herself to a flea or a mouse, it was impossible that she should escape. At that time Mr. Wilson showed me some part of the confession of one (but who he was, or when he did confess it, he would in no wise tell me), that that fellow should say he knew the Queen of Scots hated your Lordship deadly because of your religion, being an earnest Protestant; and all the Talbots else in England, being all Papists, she esteemeth of them very well; and this fellow did believe verily all we Talbots did love her better in our hearts than the Queen’s Majesty: this Mr. Wilson said he showed me because I should see what knavery there is in some men to accuse. He charged me of all love that I should keep this secret, which I promised; and, notwithstanding, considering he would not tell me who this fellow was, I willed a friend of mine, one Mr. Francis Southwell, who is very great with him, to know, amongst other talk, who he had last in examination; and I understood that this was the examination of one at the last session of Parliament, and not since, but I cannot learn yet what he was. Mr. Walsingham is this day come hither to the Court; it is thought he shall be made Secretary. Sir Thomas Smith and he both together shall exercise that office. He hath not yet told any news; he hath had no time yet for being returned home; as soon as I hear any your Lordship shall have them sent. Roulsden hath written to your Lordship as he saith, by this bearer; he trusteth to your Lordship’s satisfaction. I have been very importunate of him for the present payment of his debt to your Lordship. He cannot anyways make shift for money unless he sell land, which he vows to do rather than to purchase your Lordship’s displeasure. I have moved my Lord Treasurer two sundry times as your Lordship commanded me for the mustering within your Lordship’s offices. The first time he willed me to come to him some other time, and he would give me an answer, because then he had to write to Berwick in haste; this he told me before I half told him what I meant. The second time, which was on Saturday last, my Lord Leicester came unto him as I was talking; but to-morrow, God willing, I will not fail to move him thoroughly. For other matters I leave your Lordship to the bearer himself. And so, most humbly desiring your Lordship’s daily blessing, with my wonted prayer for the continuance of your Lordship’s honour, and health long to continue, I end, this 11th of May, 1573.

“Your Lordship’s most humble and obedient son, “GILBERT TALBOT.”

This letter is packed with suggestions of Court intrigue. Hatton—afterwards Sir Christopher Hatton—it will be remembered, was one of the many young courtiers whose polish, culture, and elegant dancing excited Elizabeth’s romantic interest. He rose from the post of Gentleman of the Privy Chamber to the captaincy of the Guard, and, by way of the successive posts of Vice-Chamberlain and Privy Councillor, reached the Chancellorship and received a Garter.

Edward Dyer, Hatton’s rival, matched him to some extent in honours, for he too was subsequently knighted and invested with the Garter. As for the Dr. Wilson named, he afterwards became a Secretary of State, while the Earl of Oxford, who is shown as trying to outdo all other courtiers in favour, was a son-in-law of Lord Burghley. He was an adherent of the fifth Duke of Norfolk, and when Burghley refused to intercede for the Duke’s life, the Earl vowed that he would revenge himself on his father-in-law by destroying the happiness of his daughter. This he achieved satisfactorily, and when she died of a broken heart he finished his work of destruction by dissipating the whole of his fortune. The jealousy of “my Lady Burghley,” named in the above letter, evidently refers to the torture which his wife suffered while he was paying addresses to the Queen.

In the midst of this motley Court group one discerns the figure of Burghley himself, a pillar of discretion, while unable to shield his own daughter from distress and scandal.

We see that the Earl of Leicester was a person to be cultivated so long as his love affairs did not incur the Queen’s anger, and so long, in fact, as the love-making was not on his side. It must have been with a chuckle of satisfaction that the Earl received a letter from the favourite about this time, in which he specially commends the behaviour of the young Talbots and records the Queen’s high approval of them. All this was very soothing to their parents. The political situation was less acute. Many traitors were dead, and the banner of Mary of Scotland lay in the dust. Her chief stronghold had fallen. France was in very bad odour, though the memory of the horror of the Bartholomew Massacre was beginning to fade from English minds. Spain had enough to do with her affairs in the Netherlands. Elizabeth could afford to dance, practise on the virginals, play off one of her Court lovers against another, and invent nicknames for them. Domestic happiness and a merrier aspect of things came also nearer to the Talbots. My Lady absented herself for a while, and the Earl writes to her as of old like a lover, and tells her of his dangers and longings:—

“My dear none,—Of all joys I have under God the greatest is yourself: to think that I possess so faithful, and one that I know loves me so dearly, is all and the greatest comfort that this earth can give. Therefore God give me grace to be thankful to Him for His goodness showed unto me, a vile sinner.

“And where you advise in your letter you willed me to ...[20] which I did that I should not be ...[20] to this lady nothing of the matter: my stomach was so full, I asked her in quick manner, where she writ any letters to any her friends that I would stand in her title. She affirms in her honour she hath not. But howsoever it is she hath written therein, I may safely answer I make small account thereof.

“I thank you, my sweetheart, that you are so willing to come when I will. Therefore, dear heart, send me word how I might send for you; and till I have your company I shall think long, my only joy: and therefore appoint a day, and in the meantime I shall content me with your will, and long daily for your coming. I your letters study very well; and I like them so well they could not be amended: and I have sent them up to Gilbert. I have written to him how happy he is to have such a mother as you are. Farewell, only joy. This Tuesday evening.

“Your faithful one, “G. SHREWSBURY.

“To my wife.”[21]

The next letter, from one of her own boys, is one which Bess evidently sent on to her “juwell” of a husband:—

_Henry Cavendish to the Countess of Shrewsbury._

“May it please your honour, I thought it good to let your La. understand of a misfortune that happened in my house. On Thursday night last at supper two of my men fell out about some trifling words, and to all their fellows’ judgment that heard their jangling we made good friends again, and went and lay together that night, for they had been bedfellows of long before, and loved one another very well, as everybody took it in the house. On Friday morning, very early, by break of day, they went forth, by name Swenerto and Langeford, with two swords apiece, as the sequel after showed; and in the fields fought together, and in fight Swenerto slew Langeford, to my great grief both for the sudden death of the one and for the utter destruction of the other, whom I loved very well. Good Madam, let it not trouble you anything; we are mortal, and born to many and strange adventures; and therefore must temper our minds to bear such burdens as shall be by God laid on our shoulders. My greatest grief, and so I judge it will be some trouble to your La. that it should happen in my house. Alas! mada, what could I do with it: altogether right sorrowful for it, and it hath troubled and vexed me, more than in reason it should have done a wise man. I would to God I could forget that there never had been any such matter. Upon the fight done I sent for Mr. Adderley, and used his counsel in all things. Swenerto fled presently and is pursued, but not yet heard of. Thus humbly craving your La. daily blessing I end, more than sad to trouble your La. thus long with this sorrowful matter. Tut: this present Saturday.

“Your La. most bounden, humble, and obedient son,

“HENRY CAVENDISH.

“To my lady. “Return this.”

“My ‘juwell,’ this Saturday at night I received this letter, much to my grief for the mishap. Yet was ever like that Swenerto should commit some great fault; he was a vain, lewd fellow. Farewell, my dear heart.

“Your faithful wife, “E. SHREWSBURY.”

The Earl writes again, impatient for his wife’s return:—

“My dear none,—I see how careful you are of my health, which if I were sick would relieve me again. I received a letter from Gilbert sent by Nykle Clark. You may see the time approaching near that a new alarm will be given me. When you have read his letter I pray you to write to me again, for I mind of Monday to write by Antony Barlow; he will be glad of the pursuivantship if he can get it: he shall have my good will therein. If you will write up ... he may safely deliver it, therefore I pray you fail not, but send me your advice concerning this matter. Farewell, my only joy. This Saturday I pray you keep promise; you said you would be with me within a fortnight at the furthest; therefore let me hear from you when I shall send for your horses, my sweetheart.

“Your faithful husband and assured, “G. SHREWSBURY.”

At the beginning of the year following, 1574, the Earl indites a very touching and dignified little New Year letter to the son in whom he always seems to take the most interest—Gilbert:—

“I have received your letter of New Year’s Eve, and this New Year’s day I begin to use my pen first to yourself wishing you to use yourself this New Year and many years after to God’s glory and fear of Him, and to live in that credit your ancestors have hitherto done, and so doing, as I hope you will, be faithful, loyal, and serviceable to the Queen’s Majesty, my Sovereign, who to me, under God, is King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Your New Year’s gift shall be I will supply all your needful wants; and so long as I see that carefulness, duty, and love you bear me which hitherto I see in you, my purse and all that I have shall be as free to you as to myself.[22] Time is so short and I have so many come to me with New Year’s gifts I can write no more, but thank you for your perfumed doublet you sent me: and so praying God to bless you.

“Sheffield Castle this New Year’s Day 1574.

“Your loving father, “G. SHREWSBURY.”

The whole tone of the letter is one of domestic security, and one has a vivid glimpse of the New Year celebrations and the flow of gifts. These _étrennes_ were important affairs. A good courtier always paid this dole to his queen under the guise of a handsome gift, while the nobles and country gentry in their turn were the recipients from their tenants and friends of heterogeneous articles varying from capons, wine, and foodstuffs to gloves, clothes, or furniture.

No one in that great and rich family group, so full of promise, had any notion of the events which would call down upon the Countess the wrath of the Queen, or the fresh accusations which would be hurled against the Earl.

Life just now was as easy as Shrewsbury could ever hope to find it. He had managed to satisfy his prisoner and give her plenty of change. She was in the autumn of 1573 transferred to Chatsworth, _en route_ for Buxton. Ultimately, by dint of scouring the place of strangers and preventing access to the springs of any save specified persons—a thing the more easy of accomplishment since the waters were the property of Shrewsbury’s family—it was made possible to give her five weeks here. After this came a stay at Chatsworth and then the return to Sheffield.

Freedom from outside attacks did not last very long. Before the spring had fairly set in Elizabeth and Burghley were once more on the warpath against the Shrewsburys. Never was George Talbot sure of his Queen’s trust. It must be remembered here that at the close of 1572 she had deliberately written thus by Burghley: “The Queen’s Majesty has in very good part accepted your last letter to herself, and has willed me to ascertain your Lordship that she doth no wise alter her former good opinion of your approved fidelity and of the care you have of such service as is committed to you, the same being such as none can in her land compare with the trust committed to your Lordship, and yet she would have your Lordship, as she says, not to mislike that when she hath occasion to doubt or fear foreign practices reaching hither into her realm, even to the charge which your Lordship hath, she do warn you thereof; and, in so doing, not to imagine that she findeth such informations to proceed from any mistrust that she hath of your Lordship, no more than she would have if you were her son or brother. This she wills me to write effectually to your Lordship ... with my most hearty commendations to your Lordship and my good Lady.”

In spite of this the least thing afforded Elizabeth an excuse for a nagging letter to Sheffield Castle. On this occasion the matter was innocent enough. Gilbert’s young wife expected her first child, and it was not surprising that my Lord and Lady should prefer that the event should take place under their roof. Yet the Queen thought it necessary to worry them with mistrust, forcibly expressed. Shrewsbury replies to Burghley: “The mislike her Majesty ... of my son Gilbert’s wife brought to bed in my house, as cause of women and strangers repair hither, makes me heartily sorry; nevertheless, the midwife excepted, none such have, or do at any time, come within her sight; and at the first, to avoid such resort, I myself with two of my children christened the child. What intelligence passeth for this Queen to and from my house I do not know; but trust her Majesty shall find my service while I live both true and faithful. Yet be you assured, my Lord, this lady will not stay to put in practice, or make enquiry by all means she can devise, and ask me no leave, so long as such access of her people is permitted unto her.... My Lord, where there hath been often bruits of this Lady’s escape from me, the 26th of February last there came an earthquake, which so sunk chiefly her chamber as I doubted more her falling than her going, she was so afraid. But God be thanked she is forthcoming, and grant it may be a forewarning unto her. It hath been at the same time in sundry places. No hurt was done and the same continued a very small time. God grant us all grace to fear Him.”

That the very Derbyshire ground which bore him should fail his feet while his Queen’s faith in him fell away seems adding insult to injury. For some time past he appears to have been torn between the longing to rid himself of a now intolerable responsibility and the fear of misconstruction to which his retirement from his post would expose him. “The truth is, my good Lord,” as he is driven at last to say to Burghley, “if it so stand with the Queen Majesty’s pleasure I could be right well contented to be discharged ... and think myself therewith most happy, if I could see how the same might be without any blemish to my honour and estimation.” He begs that Burghley “will have respect that such consideration may be had of my service as shall make it manifest to the world how well her Majesty accepteth the same. My Lord Scroop, and others, were not unconsidered of for their short time of service.” And so in this condition of mind he waits for Burghley’s advice. He would have done better to risk the Queen’s displeasure and to lay down his gaoler’s warrant on the plea of illness, even if in those days medical certificates were not so easy to procure and might not have been so potent. As for disfavour at Court, he could, as a strong and powerful private gentleman, take up his stand and keep up his vast property, though Elizabeth might wreak her annoyance on the young Cavendishes and Talbots. Had he summed up the courage to decide the matter after his own heart he would have lost nothing in the world’s esteem, been far better off in pocket, and possibly the barque of the Shrewsburys would have escaped the shoals and rocks of domestic bickerings, which in later middle-life led to such woeful wreckage of the vessel and the magnificent family crew.

George Talbot did not foresee all this. He was not an imaginative man. He was a typical Government official, precise, sententious, cautious, faithful, anxious, hypersensitive. One imagines that his countess—who was not in the least _au fond_ the typical discreet wife of a high official—spent a good deal of time goading him to revolt. He has admitted in a previous letter that she was not at all anxious for him to continue with his present duties. Of course, it was the business of Burghley to keep him at them. Shrewsbury was the most useful of all English nobles in this respect. All the conditions about him suited the Queen’s purposes in every way. The way in which she and Burghley put him off with fair promises and bamboozled him with vague promises of reward makes one gasp. As to current outlay—the £52 per week allowed him for this by the Council was far too little—one of the most ingenious suggestions Elizabeth ever made was that Mary should “defray her own charges with her dowry of France.” Shrewsbury adds: “She seemed not to dislike thereof at all, but rather desirous ... so she asked me in what sort and with what manner of liberty she should be permitted to same.” He urges that these details should be settled at once. “Assure yourself if the liberty and manner thereof content her as well as the motion, she will easily assent to it; and so I wish it, as may be without peril otherwise; and for the charges in safe-keeping her, I have found them greater many ways than some have accounted for, and than I have made show of, or grieved at; for in service of her Majesty I can think my whole patrimony well bestowed.”

How the wary official, loyal and somewhat crushed, speaks in that last sentence! How irritating to his Bess with her superabundant business instinct and her ambitions for her family! He was ever on the watch, his conscience agog. She was continually “on the make,” seeking the quickest road to family aggrandisement which was compatible with decency.

The following letter belongs to this period, and shows Gilbert Talbot back in London. He had been previously there in communication with Court officials apropos of the accusations brought originally against his father and subsequently against himself by an ex-chaplain of the Earl, named Corker, in combination with another priest called Haworth. The letter roused the whole family. The Earl literally lashes out. It remains as the chief evidence of the first published imputations against the Earl’s honour. It evidently embodies the attitude of wife as well as husband. This is a very important point because of the dissension which arose later on this very question.

“_To the right honourable my very good Lord, my Lord Burghley, Lord Treasurer of England._

“Your Lordship’s friendly letters I accept in as friendly ways as I know to be meant to me. For Corker’s proceedings against my son Gilbert, I partly understand of his false accusation; which, in my conscience, is utterly untrue and thereupon I dare gage my life. The reprobate’s beginning was against me and now turned to Gilbert. His wicked speeches of me cannot be hid; I have them of his own hand, cast abroad in London, and bruited throughout this realm, and known to her Majesty’s Council. Her Majesty hath not heard of him ill of me, so it pleaseth her Majesty to signify unto me by her own gracious letters, which I must believe, notwithstanding his dealing against me is otherwise so notoriously known that if he escape sharp and open punishment dishonour will redound to me. This practice hath a further meaning than the varlets know of.... For mine own part I have never thought to allow any title, nor will, otherwise than as shall please her Majesty to appoint.... How can it be supposed that I should be disposed to favour this Queen for her claim to succeed the Queen’s Majesty? My dealing towards her hath shown the contrary. I know her to be a Stranger, a Papist, and my enemy; what hope can I have of good of her, either for me or my country? I see I am by my own friends brought in jealousy, wherefore I wish with all my heart that I were honourably read, without note or blemish, to the world of any want in me.”

Though the Earl’s enemy was satisfactorily condemned to the pillory and the Fleet, the scandal proved many-headed, and again the poor official (accused, among other things, of being as much of a credulous fool as a knave in regard to Mary of Scotland) thunders protest.

“Wherefore as touching that lewd fellow, who hath not only sought by unlawful libels extant, so much as in him lay, to deface my dutiful heart and loyalty, but also the rooting up of my house, utter overthrow and destruction of my lineal posterity, I neither hold him a subject nor yet account him worthy the name of a man, which with a watery submission can appease so rigorous a storm;[23] no, if loss of my life, which he hath pretended would have fully contented him, I could better have been satisfied than with these, his unspeakable vilenesses.... I might be thought hard-hearted if, for Christianity’s sake, I should not freely forgive as cause shall require, and desire God to make him a better member, being so perilous a caterpillar in the Commonwealth. For I have not the man anywise in contempt, it is his iniquity and Judas dealing that I only hate.”

In other words, “Reptile! But I forgive thee.” It is almost a parallel to the anecdote of a certain little girl with an over-stern nurse of gloomy religious tendencies, to whom the child, waking alone in the dark, called, “Nurse, nurse, come, come! I dreamed that the devil was here tempting me to call you a duffer—_but I resisted the temptation_!”

The Corker affair, of course, provided fresh food for the imaginings and reports of Mary’s adversaries. People thought that it would necessarily mean the removal of Mary into fresh custody. Mary herself dreaded this. She did not love Shrewsbury, but she believed her life to be safe with him, though she may not have entirely trusted his wife. She heard that poison was to be used against her, and that there was a suggestion at Court “to make overtures to the Countess of Shrewsbury.” She was assured that if anyone poisoned her without Elizabeth’s knowledge, the latter “would be very much obliged to them for relieving her of so great a trouble.”

There is nothing on the Countess’s side to corroborate this wild statement. This horrible fear, however, was so implanted in Mary’s mind that she sent to France for “some genuine terra sigillata, as antidote.” But she did not apply to her sinister mother-in-law Catherine De Medici. “Ask M. the Cardinal my uncle,” she writes, “or if he has none, rather than have recourse to the Queen my mother-in-law, or to the King, send a bit of fine unicorn’s horn, as I am in great want of it.”

The year 1574 travelled onward without realisation of her fears. The “caterpillar,” Corker, had not prevailed in the overthrow of the Earl’s house or of his “lineal posterity,” and Gilbert Talbot in this little note writes affectionately enough to his stepmother:—[24]

“My most humble duty remembered unto your good Ladyship, to fulfil your La. commandment, and in discharge of my duty by writing, rather than for any matter of importance that I can learn, I herewith trouble your La. Her Majesty stirreth little abroad, and since the stay of the navy to sea here hath been all things very quiet.... I have written to my Lord of the bruit which is here of his being sick again, which I nothing doubt but it is utterly untrue: howbeit, because I never heard from my L. nor your La. since I came up, I cannot choose but be somewhat troubled, and yet I consider the like hath been often reported most falsely and without cause, as I beseech God this be. My Lady Cobbam asketh daily how your La. doth, and yesterday prayed me, the next time I wrote, to do her very hearty commendation unto your La., saying openly she remaineth unto your La. as she was wont, as unto her dearest friend. My La. Lenox hath not been at the Court since I came. On Wednesday next I trust (God willing) to go hence towards Goodrich; and shortly after to be at Sheffield. And so most humbly craving your La. blessing with my wonted prayer, for your honour and most perfect health long to continue. From the Court at Greenwich this 27th June, 1573.

“Your La. most humble and obedient son, “GILBERT TALBOT.

“To my Lady.

“I received a letter from my Lord since this letter was sealed, and then I had no time by this messenger to write again unto your La. which came in a comfortable season unto me.”