A reverend deane,
With his band[690] starch't cleane,
Did preach before the King;
In his band string was spied
A ring that was tied[CQ],
Was not that a pretty thing?
If then without doubt,
In his text he was out
. . . . . . next,
The ring without doubt
Was the thing putt him out,
For all that were there,
On my conscience, dare sweare,
That he handled it more than his text:—
vide the verses.
[691]His conversation[692] was extreme pleasant. Dr. Stubbins[CR] was one of his cronies; he was a jolly fatt Dr. and a very good house-keeper; parson of <Ambrosden> in Oxfordshire. As Dr. Corbet and he were riding in Lob-lane, in wett weather, ('tis an extraordinary deepe dirty lane) the coach fell; and Dr. Corbet sayd that Dr. Stubbins was up to the elbowes in mud, he was up to the elbowes in Stubbins.
Anno Domini <1628> he was made bishop of Oxford, and I have heard that he had an admirable, grave, and venerable aspect.
One time, as he was confirming, the country people pressing in to see[693] the ceremonie, sayd he, 'Beare-off there, or I'le confirme yee with my staffe.' Another time being to lay his hand on the head of a man very bald, he turns to his chaplaine (Lushington) and sayd, 'Some dust, Lushington,' (to keepe his hand from slipping). There was a man with a great venerable beard; sayd the bishop, 'You, behind the beard.'
His chaplain, Dr. Lushington[CS], was a very learned and ingeniose man, and they loved one another. The bishop sometimes would take the key of the wine-cellar, and he and his chaplaine would goe and lock themselves in and be merry. Then first he layes downe his episcopall hat,—'There lyes the Dr.' Then he putts of his gowne,—'There lyes the Bishop.' Then 'twas,—'Here's to thee, Corbet,' and 'Here's to thee, Lushington.'—From Josias Howe, B.D., Trin. Coll. Oxon.
He built a pretty house (quaere) neer the cawsey beyond Friar Bacon's studie.
He married[CT] ..., whom 'twas sayd he begott. She was a very beautifull woman, and so was her mother. He had a son (I think Vincent) that went to schoole at Westminster, with Ned Bagshawe; a very handsome youth, but he is run out of all, and goes begging up and downe to gentlemen.
He was made bishop of Norwich, Anno Domini <1632>. He dyed <28 July, 1635>. The last words he sayd were, 'Good night, Lushington.' He lyes buried in the upper end of the choire at Norwich, [on the south side of the monument of bishop Herbert, the founder, under a faire gravestone of free-stone, from whence the inscription[CU] and scutcheon of brasse are stollen[694]].