'Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention: taunt him with the license of ink: if thou thoust him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down.'

Turning to Shaw once again, from Goodrich Court, Herefordshire, we find reproduced a bed-head which perfectly suggests the upper part of a Jacobean mansion. There is the open work with its finials surmounting two large planted arches, and below there is a balustrade such as might grace a Renaissance housetop, stretching across the whole bed. It consists of twelve rails divided by three broad stiles with lions' heads above them. This bed (Shaw, plate 38) has no tester. Its posts are of a dark foreign wood, the bedhead being of lighter material inlaid with mother-of-pearl. In the want of a tester it resembles the Charles 1. bed, dated 1628, on the next plate. This latter bed has no pillars, but only large finials surrounded with the steeple shape of outside work. The bed-head is of remarkable form. There is one planted arch with a triangular pediment above, and on this a species of shield flanked by dolphins and supporting a cherub's head - that cherub's head which we are soon to find on the chairs of Charles II. The arch and pediment are supported on either side by large S-curved brackets shaped into dragons' heads and tails, and entwined with acanthus flowers which the dragons hold in their beaks.

These brackets remind us of those supporting the pillars in the Courtenay bed in the Victoria and Albert Museum. A long panel above the arch has a guilloche with the small intervening circles and 'faggot' shapes above and below them, similar to those on a box in the writer's possession, illustrated amongst the specimens of the 'guilloche.' In the arch is a shield suspended by carved rings and bearing the date of 1628. Another long panel going right across the bed-head has alternate rectangles and ovals, somewhat as on the bed of Ware. The bedposts are finished with the steeple finial.

That indefatigable observer, John Evelyn, notes, November 2, 1644, how a Genoese, Cardinal Doughi, travels 'in great state with his owne bedstead and all the furniture.' Doubtless this was a bedstead for travelling purposes, but probably elaborate enough, for rich Italians were accustomed to lie on very fine monuments of this kind. On November 10th of the same year, Evelyn remarks upon a splendid bed at 'Prince Ludovisio's villa.' 'But what,' he says,' some look upon as exceeding all the rest is a very rich bedstead (which sort of grosse furniture the Italians much glory in, as formerly did our grand-fathers in England in their inlaid wooden ones) inlaid with all sorts of precious stones and antiq heads, onyxs, achates, and cornelians, esteem'd to be worth 80 or 90,000 crownes.' Evelyn must be referring in his comparison to beds of 1570 or later. The Sizergh Castle bed is probably something of the kind, though there is nothing remarkably elaborate in the inlay of that beautiful room and its bed. Other specimens of inlaid beds are far to seek, if they still exist. Long wear and tear have probably accounted for most of them; the strength of these sombre old four-posters was sometimes put to a test which was grim enough.

Evelyn relates how his friend, the Lord Treasurer Clifford, tried to hang himself from the bed-tester, August 18, 1673. There was another reason why wooden beds with many joints should have fallen into disuse. Evelyn mentions, September 29, 1645, another Italian bedstead all inlaid with 'achats, chrystals, cornelians, lazuli, etc., esteem'd worth 16,000 crowns; but for the most part,' he adds, 'the bedsteads in Italy are of forged iron gilded, since it is impossible to keep the wooden ones from the chimices.' By chimices he means certain parasites with which even in England we are not unacquainted. Damp and the action of direct sunlight are, between them, no doubt responsible for the disappearance of many a fine four-poster. When it became shabby the bedstead on which the lord of the manor had slept, or in which his sons and daughters had been born, would be relegated, as was the custom with other antiquated furniture, to the tender mercies of the grooms and footmen in the garrets. From the Memoirs of the Verney Family are to be gathered certain interesting facts as to panelled rooms and beds.

The use of wainscot was regarded as so important that it is specifically granted in a lease of 1634 referring to a house in Covent Garden (vol. i. p. 5). It may be that people took a fancy to good panelling, just as nowadays they have been known to replace fine marble chimneypieces of the Adam period with modern rubbish, and spirit the originals away. The remedy is found in a special photograph and description appended to the base of any chimneypiece which has the merits of a work of art.1 'Stock locks' upon doors were also a luxury. At the Verneys' house at Claydon they were kept loose 'in the closet.' Doors were, however, found to be so much injured by the perpetual taking off and putting on of locks that it was better at last to make them fixtures. To this original custom we may, perhaps, attribute the very frequent occurrence upon oak chests and boxes of locks which were obviously not suited to the original design. Very often the later lock plate is much too large, and actually covers part of the design.

A box or chest, therefore, which has its original lock and plate made to suit it is a rarity and a desideratum.