Of the endless orations, the presents, and pedantry with which the Queen was received, of her own coyness about her Latin, of the solemn disputations and entertainments, this is no place to speak; but the official accounts[191] represent the Queen as being agreeably surprised at her reception. After the first service at King’s she “thanked God that had sent her to this University, where she, altogether against her expectation, was so received that she thought could not be better.” This was the first day; but a Catholic friend of the new Spanish Ambassador[192] told him that the Queen’s commendations had so elated the authorities that they besought her to witness one more entertainment. As she was unable to delay her departure, the actors followed her to the first stopping-place, where the proposed comedy was represented before her. “The actors came in,” writes Guzman, “dressed as some of the imprisoned bishops. First came the Bishop of London (_i.e._ Bonner), carrying a lamb in his hands as if he were eating it, … and then others with different devices, one being in the figure of a dog with the Host in his mouth. They write that the Queen was so angry that she at once entered her chamber, using strong language, and the men who held the torches, it being night, left them in the dark, and so ended this thoughtless and scandalous representation.”[193] Amongst the long list of honorary Masters of Arts made on the occasion, Sir William Cecil was one, and on the journey to Cambridge he was honoured for the first of many times with a visit from the Queen to his house at Waltham, Theobalds,[194] which at this time was a small house he had recently built as a country retreat, not so remote as Burghley, or so near town as Wimbledon. It was his intention, even then, to leave this estate to his younger son; but, as will be shown later, it was not meant to be the magnificent place it afterwards became. The Queen’s frequent visits, says his household biographer, forced him “to enlarge it, rather for the Queen and her great train, and to set the poor in order, than for pomp or glory, for he ever said it would be too big for the small living he could leave his son. He greatly delighted in making gardens, fountains, and walks; which at Theobalds were perfected most costly, beautifully, and pleasantly, where one might walk two miles in the walk before he came to the end.”[195] We are told that throughout the year at Theobalds, even in his absence, Cecil kept an establishment of twenty-six to thirty persons, at a cost of £12 a week. Every day twenty to thirty poor people were relieved at the gates, and “the weekly charge of setting the poor to work there, weeding, labouring in the gardens, &c., was £10”; whilst for many years 20s. every week was paid to the Vicar of Cheshunt, in which parish Theobalds stands, for the succour of the distressed parishioners.