ancestors in the Parish Church of Ware. Your uncle Henry, that was the
second, was killed in fighting gallantly in the Low Countries with the
English colours in his hand. He was very handsome and a very brave
man, beloved and lamented by all who knew him. The third died a
bachelor; I knew him not. The fourth is Sir Simon Fanshawe, a gallant
gentleman, but more a libertine than any of his family; he married a
very fine and good woman, and of a great estate; she was daughter and
coheir to Sir William Walter, and widow to Knitton Ferrers, son to Sir
John Ferrers, of Hertfordshire.

Your father, Sir Richard Fanshawe, Knight and Baronet, one of the
Masters of the Requests, Secretary of the Latin Tongue, Burgess for
the University of Cambridge, and one of his Majesty's most honourable
Privy Council of England and Ireland, and his Majesty's Ambassador to
Portugal and Spain, was the fifth and youngest son. He married me, the
eldest daughter of Sir John Harrison, Knight, of Balls, in the county
of Hertford; he was married at thirty-five years of age, and lived
with me twenty-three years and twenty-nine days; he lies buried in a
new vault I purchased of Humphry, Lord Bishop of London, in St. Mary's
Chapel in the Church of Ware, near his ancestors, over which I built
him a monument.

My dear husband had six sons and eight daughters, born and christened,
and I miscarried of six more, three at several times, and once of
three sons when I was about half gone my time. Harrison, my eldest
son, and Henry, my second son; Richard, my third; Henry, my fourth;
and Richard, my fifth, are all dead; my second lies buried in the
Protestant Church-yard in Paris, by the father of the Earl of Bristol;
my eldest daughter Anne lies buried in the Parish Church of
Tankersley, in Yorkshire, where she died; Elizabeth lies in the Chapel