In the year 1608, this great man died suddenly at the Council-Table, Whitehall, after a bustling life devoted to the public weal; and the 26th of May following, his remains were deposited with great solemnity in Westminster Abbey, his funeral sermon being preached by Dr. Abbot, his chaplain, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Besides this celebrated sermon of the primate’s, in which he is very lavish in his praise, Lord Chancellor Bacon, and Sir Robert Naunton, bestow particular encomiums upon him; and Sir Richard Paker observes, “That he had excellent parts, and in his place was exceeding industrious, and that he had heard many exchequer men say, there never was a better Treasurer, both for the King’s profit, and the good of the subject.”
By his dying suddenly at the Council-Table, his death was interpreted by some people in a mysterious manner;[9] but his head being opened, there were found in it certain little bags of water, which, whether by straining in his study the night before, in which he sat up till 11 o’clock, or otherwise by their own maturity, suddenly breaking, and falling upon his brain, produced his death, to the universal grief of the nation, for which he had spent his strength, and for whose interest, in a very immediate manner, he may be justly said to have fallen a sacrifice. Of all our court poets he seems to have united the greatest industry and variety of genius: It is seldom found, that the sons of Parnassus can devote themselves to public business, or execute it with success. I have already observed,