required of me. They were not ashamed after they had taken away, and sold all my goods and personal estate, to come to me for assessments, and monthly payments for that estate which they had taken, and took distresses from me upon my most just denial, and vehemently required me to find the wonted arms of my predecessors, when they had left me nothing. Many insolences and affronts were in all this time put upon us. One while a whole rabble of volunteers come to my gates late, when they were locked up, and called for the porter to give them entrance, which being not yielded, they threatened to make by force, and had not the said gates been very strong they had done it. Others of them clambered over the walls, and would come into mine house; their errand (they said) was to scarch for delinquents. What they would have done I know not, had not we by a secret way sent to raise the officers for our rescue. Another while the sheriff Toftes, and alderman Linsey, attended with many zealous followers came into my chapel to look for superstitious pictures, and relics of idolatry, and sent for me, to let me know they found those windows full of images, which were very offensive, and must be demolished! I told them they were the pictures of some antient and worthy bishops, as St. Ambrose, Austin, &c. It was answered me, that they were so many popes; and one younger man amongst the rest (Townsend as I perceived afterwards) would take upon him to defend that every diocesan bishop was pope. I answered him with some scorn, and obtained leave that I might with the least loss, and defacing of the windows, give order for taking off that offence, which I did by causing the heads of those pictures to be taken off, since I knew the bodies could not offend.

There was not that care and moderation used in

reforming

reforming the cathedral church bordering upon my palace. It is no other than tragical to relate the carriage of that furious sacrilege, whereof our eyes and ears were the sad witnesses, under the authority and presence of Linsey, Toftes the sheriff, and Greenewood. Lord, what work was here, what clattering of glasses, what beating down of walls, what tearing up of monuments, what pulling down of seats, what wresting out of irons and brass from the windows and graves! what defacing of arms, what demolishing of curious stone-work, that had not any representation in the world, but only of the cost of the founder, and skill of the mason; what tooting and piping upon the destroyed organ pipes, and what a hideous triumph on the market day before all the country, when in a kind of sacrilegious and profane procession, all the organ pipes, vestments, both copes and surplices, together with the leaden cross", which had been newly sawn down from over the green-yard pulpit, and the service books and singing books that could be had, were

'Leaden cross.] In the church-warden's accounts of the parish of Lambeth, fol. 288, a. D. 1642, is the following entry:

1 6" "Paid for taking downe the crosse off the steeple o And in fol. 293, is a further payment of 2s. In a subsequent year we find how the cross was disposed of; fol. 296, a. D. 1644: "Rec. for the Crosse that was upon the Steeple, and other oulde Iron 3 6" The following extracts are also given from the same book, as further illustrative of the proceedings of those times; fol. 293, A. D. 1643:

1

"Paide to John Pickerskill for taking downe the Railes 0 1 0" that were about the Communion Table

Fol. 296, A. D. 1644;

"Paid to the Carpenters for worke in taking downe the Skreenes betweene the Church and the Chancel o 13 0" Paid to Edw. Marshall for two dayes worke in leveling the Chancell

Fol. 300, A. D. 1645:

"Paid for a basen to baptize in, and for the frame o

0 4 0"

5 0" carried

carried to the fire in the public market place: lewd wretch walking before the train, in his cope trailing in the dirt, with a service book in his hand, imitating in an impious scorn the tune, and usurping the words of the litany used formerly in the church! Near the public cross, all these monuments of idolatry must be sacrificed to the fire, not without much ostentation of a zealous joy in discharging ordonance to the cost of some who professed how much they had longed to see that day. Neither was it any news upon this guild-day to have the cathedral now open on all sides to be filled with musketeers, waiting for the mayor's return, drinking and tobacconing as freely as if it had turned alehouse.

Still yet I remained in my palace though with but a poor retinue and means; but the house was held' too good for me: many messages were sent by Mr. Corbet to remove me thence. The first pretence was, that the committee, who now was at charge for an house to sit in, might make their daily session there, being a place both more public, roomy, and chargeless. The committee after many consultations resolved it convenient to remove thither, though many overtures and offers were made to the contrary. Mr. Corbet was impatient of my stay there, and procures and sends peremptory messages for my present dislodging. We desired to have some time allowed for providing some other mansion, if we must needs be cast out of this, which my wife was so willing to hold, that she offered, (if the charge of the present committee house were the things stood upon) she would be content to defray the sum of the rent of that house of her fifth part; but that might not be yielded; out we must, and that in three weeks warning, by midsummer-day then approaching, so as we might have lain in the street for ought I know, had not the providence of God so ordered it,

that

that a neighbour in the close, one Mr. Gostlin, a widower, was content to void his house for us.

This hath been my measure, wherefore I know not; Lord thou knowest, who only canst remedy, and end, and forgive or avenge this horrible oppression. Jos. NORVIC.

Scripsi, May 29, 1647.

SHORTLY AFTER, this excellent bishop retired to a little estate, which he rented at Higham near Norwich; where, notwithstanding the narrowness of his circumstances, he distributed a weekly charity to a certain number of poor widows. In this retirement he ended his life, September 8, 1656, aged 82 years; and was buried in the church-yard of that parish, without any memorial; observing in his will, "I do not hold God's house a meet repository for the dead bodies of the greatest saints."

He is universally allowed to have been a man of incomparable piety, meekness, and modesty, having a thorough knowledge of the world, and of great wit and learning.

*

A writer observes of him that "he may be said to have died with the pen in his hand. He was commonly called our English Seneca, for his pure, plain and full stile. Not ill at controversies, more happy at comments, very good in his characters, better in his sermons, best of all in his meditations."

* Shortly after.] This conclusion is transcribed from the notes to an edition of this life, &c. prefixed to an edition of bishop Hall's Contemplations, published A. D. 1759, by the Rev. Wm. Dodd.

England's Worthies, p. 441.