From that day forwards, she grew worse and worse. She remained upon her cushions four days and nights, [? Saturday 19th to Tuesday 22nd March 1603] at the least. All about her could not persuade her, either to take any sustenance, or [to] go to bed.
I, hearing that neither her Physicians, nor none about her, could persuade her to take any course for her safety, feared her death would soon after ensue. I could not but think in what a wretched estate I should be left: most of my livelihood depending on her life. And hereupon I bethought myself with what grace and favour I was ever received by the King of Scots, whensoever I was sent to him. I did assure myself it was neither unjust, nor unhonest, for me to do for myself; if GOD, at that time, should call her to his mercy. Hereupon I wrote to the King of Scots, knowing him to be the right heir to the Crown of England; and certified him in what state Her Majesty was. I desired him not to stir from Edinburgh: and if, of that sickness she should die, I would be the first man that should bring him news of it.
The Queen grew worse and worse, because she would be so: none about her being able to persuade her to go to bed. [The Earl of Nottingham] my Lord Admiral was sent for: who (by reason of my sister [Catharine]'s death, that was his wife) had absented himself some fortnight from [the] Court.
What by fair means, what by force, he gat her to bed. There was no hope of her recovery, because she refused all remedies.
On Wednesday, the 23rd of March [1603], she grew speechless. That afternoon, by signs, she called for her [Privy] Council: and by putting her hand to her head, when the King of Scots was named to succeed her, they all knew he was the man she desired should reign after her.
About six at night, she made signs for [John Whitgift] the Archbishop, and her Chaplains to come to her. At which time, I went in with them; and sat upon my knees full of tears to see that heavy sight.