A dialogue bothe pleasaunte and pietifull wherein is a goodly regimente against the feuer pestilence with a consolacion and comfort against death / newly corrected by Willyam Belleyn, the autour thereof.

A DIALOGVE ¶The interlocutours are twelue persones.

• ...Mendicus.
• ...Ciuis.
• ...Vxor.
• ...Medicus.
• ...Antonius.
• ...Roger.
• ...Chrispinus.
• ...Auarus.
• ...Ambo dexter.
• ...Mendax.
• ...Mors.
• ...Theologus.

Mendicus.

GOd saue my gud Maister and Maistres, the barnes, and all this haly houshade, and shilde you from all doolle and shem, and sende you comforte of all thynges that you waud haue good of: and God and our dere leddie, shilde and defend you from this Peste. Our father whiche art in heauen, hallowed bee your name, your kyngdome come, your will bee doen in yearth as it is in heauen. &c.

Ciuis.

Me thinke I doe heare a good manerlie begger at the doore, and well brought vp, how reuerently he saieth his Pater noster, he thoues not GOD, but you hynt, Gods blessing on his hart. I praie you wife, giue

the poore man some thing to his diner.

Vxor.

Sir, I will heare hym saie the Lordes praier better, before I giue him any thing.

Ciuis.

What a reconyng is this? Dame doe as I commaunde you, he is poore, wee haue plentie, he is very poore and hongrie, there∣fore dispatche him a Gods name.

Vxor.

Soft fire maketh sweete Malte, he shall tary my leasure.

Mendicus.

Maistres, if you Ie angrie with the sai∣yng of my Pater noster in Englishe, I wil saie it in Latin, and also my Deprofundis. But so God helpe me, I doe not ken nene of theim beth.

Vxor.

I thinke thesame: soche Carpenter, soche thippes, your curate is some honest man I warraunt you, and taketh moche paine in feding his flocke, as seemeth by your lear∣ning. I praie you what coūtrie mā be you?

Mendicus.

Sauyng youre honour gud Maistres, I was borne in Redesdale in Northumber∣lande,

and came of a wight riding sirname called the Robsons, gud honeste men and true, sauyng a little shiftyng for their li∣uyng, God helpe them sillie pure men.

Vxor.

What doest thou here in this countree, me thinke thou art a Scot by thy tongue.

Mendicus.

Trowe me neuer mare then gud deam, I had better bee hanged in a Withie of a Cowtaile, then be a rowfooted Scotte, for thei are euer fare and fase: I haue been a fellon sharpe manne on my handes in my yōg daies, and brought many of the Scot∣tes to grounde in the North Marches, and gaue them many greislie woundes, ne mā for man durst abide me luke I was so fell. Then the limer Scottes hared me, burnte my gudes, and made dedly feede with me, and my barnes, that now I haue nethyng but this sary bagge and this staffe, and the charitie of sike gud people as you are, gud maistres▪ ause I haue many of my sirname here in the citee, that wade thinke no shem on me, yea honeste handcraftie men.

Ciuis.

How gote you in at the gates, my good

frende?

Mendicus.

Deare sir, I haue many cuntrith men in this faire citee, that came of honeste stocke in our lande, and some a little beyonde vs twentie or threttie miles, that can make pure shifte in the citee, and in the countres ause. I came in ne place but either the per∣sone, Bailie, Conestable, or chief of the pa∣rishe is of our countrith borne: and some pure men as myne awne self God ken. E∣mong whem the Bedle of the beggers be∣yng a Ridesdale man borne, a gud manne and a true, whiche for ill will in his youth, did fleen the Countree, it was laied to his charge, the driuyng of Kine hem to his fa∣thers byre: But Christe knaweth he was sackles, and liue as honestlie in his age, as his sire did whē he was yong, gud maister.

Ciuis.

I was borne in the Northe my felowe, and dooe liue here in this citee, I came he∣ther when I was young, and when I was verie poore, but now I am in good case, to liue emong the reste of my neighbours.

Mendicus.

Goddes benison on you, and our deare

ladies, I come hether purely in mine age, I haue nethyng but wedom.

Vxor.

Geue God onelie thankes, for so is his holie will and commaundementes, that wee should call vpon hym in the daies of trouble, and onely honour hym: wee haue no commaundement to honour our ladie.

Mendicus.

I think one woman wade take an other womannes part, doe as it shall please you I am ne clerke, but an ingram mā, of smal cideracion in soche arogant buke farles.

Ciuis.

What newes in the Countree, as you come by the waie? Countree man.

Mendicus.

Nene, but aude maners, faire saiynges, fase hartes, and ne deuocion, God amende the Markette, moche ••oilyng for the purse, deceiuyng of eche other: in the Countree, strief, debate, runnyng for euery trif••e to the Lawiers, hauing nething but the nut∣shelles, the Lawiers eate the Carnelles, ause moche reising of rētes, causing greate dearthe, mucle pouertee. God helpe, God helpe, the warde is sare chaunged: extorci∣oners,

couetous men and hypocrites dooe mucle preuaile, God cut them shorter, for thei doe make a blacke warlde, euen helle vppon yearth, I thinke the greate fende or his deam will wearie theim all, nene other newes I ken, but that I did see micle pro∣uidence made in the countrée for you in the citee, whiche doe feare the Pestilēce. I met with wagons, cartes, and horses, full ladē with young barnes, for feare of the blacke Pestilence, with their boxes of medicines, and swete perfumes. O God, how fast did thei runne by hundredes, and wer afraied of eche other, for feare of smittyng.

Ciuis.

I haue some of my children forthe, God sende them well to spede.

Mendicus.

Maister, why goe you not with theim your self?

Ciuis.

No, youth are apte to take the Plague, and furder, parentes are more naturall to their childrē, then children to their fathers and mothers. Nature doeth descende, but not ascende: also if the citezē should departe when as the Plague doe come, then there

should not onely be no plague in the citee, but also the citee should be voide and emp∣tie, for lacke of the inhabitours therein, therefore Gods will bee dooen emong his people. I doe not intende to flee, notwith∣stādyng I praie God of his mercie, deliuer vs from this Plague, for if it doe continue GOD knoweth, it will not onely take a∣waie a nomber of poore people, but many wealthie and lustie marchauntes also.

Mendicus.

If soche plague doe insue, it is no greate losse. For, first it shal not onely deliuer, the miserable poore man, woman and barne, from hurte and carefulnesse, into a better warlde: but ause cutte of many coueteous vsurers, whiche be like fat vncleane swine whiche doe neuer good, vntill thei come to the dishe, but wroote out euery plaute that thei can come by. And like vnto great stin¦king mucle medin hilles, whiche neuer do pleasure vnto ••he lande or grounde, vntill their heapes are caste abrode to the profi∣tes of many, whiche are kepte neither to their awne comfortes, nor others, but ene∣ly in behadyng them: like vnto cruell dog∣ges, liyng in a Maunger, neither eatyng

the Heye themselues, ne suffring the horse to feede thereof hymself. And in sike Pla∣gues, wee pure people haue micke gud. Their losse is our gaine, when thei do be∣come naked, wee then are clethed againste their willes: with their dooles and almose, we are relieued, their sicknes is our health their death our life. Besides vs Beggers, many mee menne haue gud lucke, as the Curate, Parishe clarke, and the bell man, often times the executours be ne losers by this game. And in fine, in my fantasie it is happie to the huntman, when he haue nethyng of the Catte but the sillie skinne. Wee beggers, couet not for the carcas of the dedde body, but doe defie it, we looke for aude caste cootes, dublettes, hose, cappes, beltes and shoes by their deathes, whiche in their liues thei waude not depart from, and this is our happe.

Ciuis.

Go thy waies to Antonius Mantuanus gates: For thither, euen within this twoo howers, I did see Maister Antonius Capi∣stranus, solemnelie riding vpon his Mule, with a side goune, a greate chaine of golde aboute his necke, his Apothecarie Senior

Crispinus, a neighbours childe, borne here by in Barbarie, and his little Lackeye, a proper yong applesquier, called Pandarus, whiche carieth the keye of the chāber with hym. These are all gone in at the gates to that noble Italian: his aulmner this daie, bicause his maister was very sicke, applied the poore men with the purse, with moche deuocion for the time, being without hope of his Maisters recouerie.

Mendicus.

I praie God sende vs many sike praies, for it is merie with vs, when ene mannes hurt, doe turne to many mennes gaines: I will go thither, fare you well gud Maister. I wil drawe nere, and herkē what maister doctour will saie, if I might be in place.

Ciuis.

Farewell, for thou doest not care, which ende doe goe forwarde, so that thy tourne maie be serued.

Medicus.

How dooe you good Maister Antonius? Lorde God how are you chaunged? How chaunceth this? What is the matter, that you looke so pale? You did sende for me by your seruaunt Iohannes de Corsica, a gen∣tle

yong man, whiche lamented moche for you: and when I heard it, with all speede I came from my other pacientes, of whom I thinke I haue taken myne vltimum vale.

Antonius.

You are welcome Maister dectour with all my harte, now helpe at a pinche: or els neuer, for I doe feare my self verie moche. O•• my harte.

Medicus.

I warraunt you man, let me feele your pulse, and then shall I procede to the cure, with Medicine and diete accordingly.

Antonius.

Take your pleasure good Maister Doc∣tour, here is my hande: feele my pulse, and then you shall see myne vrine, and knowe the tyme of my sicknes.

Medicus.

These are no very good tokens, neither in your vrine, pulse, stoole. &c. But I will doe the beste for you that I can doe by art.

Antonius.

And then you shall wante no golde, for though I lacke helpe, yet I want no golde of euery coigne, and siluer also. My ware∣houses are well filled with wares of sōde∣rie

kindes, whiche I doe sell vnto the reta∣lers. Furder I haue wares of most aunci∣ent seruice, whiche owe me nothing, both in packes, vessels and chestes. &c. which are not fit for the retalers. Thē doe I kepe for shiftes, when any gentilmen, or long suter in the lawe, are behinde hande, and knowe not what to doe: then by good suretees, or assured landes by statute marchaunt. &c. I doe sometyme make .xxx. or .L. in the hun∣dred by yere. I haue diuers soche honeste waies to liue vpon, through the wittie and secrete handlyng of my brokers here in the citee, and my factours, whiche are at Ant∣warpe. &c. By whom I doe vnderstand the state, and what cōmoditie is beste. Furder I haue extended vpon auncient landes in the countrie, for the breche of couenauntes That to conclude with you maister doctor, I could neuer haue died in a worse tyme, my businesse is soche. I would of all thin∣ges liue still, for here I doe knowe what I haue, and how I am vsed: but when I am gone, I doe not knowe what shall happen vnto me, nor whō to trust with y^• whiche I haue gotten with trauell, and obteined by fortune.

Medicus.

You doe speake like a wise man as euer I harde, and moste thinges that you haue taken in hande, haue greate profite with you: of my parte I would bee lothe to lose you, bothe for an vnfained loue that I doe beare vnto you for your wisedome, and al∣so for your liberalitee and giftes geuen to me many a tyme. Lo, here is the Damaske goune yet in store. Here is also a Flagone chaine of the hundred Aungelles that you did geue me, in your last greate Feuer.

Antonius.

Who is able to resiste soche a multitude of Aungelles, I thinke fewe Doctours of Phisike? But rather then I would dye, I will let flie a thousande more.

Medicus.

That is the waie I assure you, to per∣fite health: and for that cause the Phisician was ordeined, as it is written. Honour the Phisician, with the honour that is due vn∣to hym, because of necessitie, for the Lorde haue created him, and he shall receiue gif∣tes of the kyng.

Antonius.

That is a good swete tert for Phisicians, but why doe you leaue out these woordes,

in the middes of the matter? Whiche is: of the moste higheste cometh learning, and so I doe remēber, I heard our curate read in the churche, as by chaunce I came in with a Sargeant, to arest twoo Bankeroutes.

Medicus.

What your curate pleased him to read, I care not, for I medle with no Scripture matters, but to serue my tourne: But I knowe that, whiche I haue saied, is writ∣ten in the Bible.

Antonius.

Bee all thynges written in the Bible true: I praie you tell me?

Medicus.

God forbidde Maister Antonius, then it would make a fraie emong Marchauntes, for it is writtē.* 1.1 None shall enter into god∣des dwellyng, or reste with hym vpon his Mountaine, that lendeth his money vpon vsurie, or to vsurie, whereby to hinder his neighbour: And this is now become the greatest trade. And many bee vndooen by borowyng, and fewe doe lose by lendyng, speciallie men of your worshipfull experi∣ence. And how like you this texte?

Antonius.

Texte how thei will texte, I will truste none of them all, saie what thei will: there bee many soche saiynges againste men, as the ten commaundementes. &c. Well, for my parte, I haue little to doe in these mat∣ters, Marie I would be glad to liue order∣lie and Ciuillie, so that the worlde should not wonder at my doynges: but if damp∣nacion should arise, when the Scripture doe threaten it to men, then should witti•• wordes in bargaining▪ with facing othes, and pleasaunt venerous table talke, with reuiling of our enemies. &c. bee accompted damnacion. The•• I warrant you, helle i•• well furnished with courtiers, marchaun∣tes, souldiours, housebandmen, and some of the clergie, I warrant you also. Emong whom there are many more spitefull then Spiritualle, euen as there are emong the Phisiciās, many more couetous then kind har••ed. I meane not you maister doctour.

Medicus.

Sir, I dooe knowe you dooe not. But so God helpe me, one thyng doeth moche re∣ioyce my harte, in your communicacion.

Antonius.

What is that?

Medicus.

I thinke that we two are of one religiō.

Antonius.

What is that I praie you? For I know not myne owne religion.

Medicus.

Commaunde your folkes to departe out of the chamber, and your yong scapes also whiche you haue gotten by chaunce med∣ley, for wante of mariage: for the old pro∣uerbe is, small Pitchers haue wide eares, and the fielde haue iyes, and the wood haue ••ares, therefore wee muste commen close∣lie, and beware of blabbes.

Antonius.

Well, nowe the doores are sparred, saie on your minde, of what Religion are you? Be plain with me man.

Medicus.

Herke in your eare sir, I am neither ca∣tholike, Papiste, Protestante, nor Anna∣baptiste, I assure you.

Antonius.

What then? you haue rehearsed choyce and plētie of religions. What doe you ho∣nour? the Sonne, the Moone, or the starres, Beast, S••one, or Foule, Fishe or Tree?

Medicus.

No forsothe. I doe none of them all. To be plain, I am a Nulla fidian, and there are many of our secte.

Antonius.

Oh. Qui dixit in corde suo non est deus. Well, we differ verie little is this poincte, but if I doe liue, we shall drawe nere to an vnitee: in the meane time, let your Pothi∣carie prouide some good thinges for the bo∣die. I praie you open the doore.

Medicus.

Maisters, I praie you call Crispinus he∣ther into the Gallarie, and Leonardus de Montano with hym.

Crispine.

What is your pleasure maister doctour?

Medicus.

How doe you like this Garden?

Crispine.

There are plētie of goodly herbes, bothe clensing, healing, losing, binding, and re∣storing. I neuer did see more choice of son∣drie kindes of straūge flowers, moste plea∣saunt to the iye, and sweete also. The fine knottes are doen by good arte, Geometri∣cally figured. A swete conduite in the mid∣dest,

made of fine stone, plentifully, casting forth water, like fine siluer streames many waies. In whiche condite, I did behold by the space of one houre a meruelous thing, the meaning thereof I knowe not.

Medicus.

What was it Crispine?

Crispine.

The piller was eight foote square, and eightene foote high, with compartementes of connyng Masonrie, curiouslie couered with fine golde. Upon the toppe a Tyger fearfullie, hauing a young child in his ar∣mes readie to kill it, the child had a croune of golde vppon his hedde. And in his lefte hande a Globe, figuring the whole worlde and was called Microcosmos, about whi∣che was written Globus conuersus est.

Medicus.

This gentleman came of a greate house, this is the crest of his armes, for he descen∣ded of the most aunciēt Romaines I war∣rant you, he is no vpstrat, assure your self.

Crispine.

I had thought it had rather signified the condicions of a cruell tiraunt, or some bloo∣die conquerour: which by vsurpacion get∣tyng

the victorie of any commonwealthe▪ as Landes, Countrees or Citees, efteso∣nes dooe spoile the true heires and owners of the lande, whiche doe weare the croune chaunge the state of the Commons to the worser parte, spoiling theim with sworde and bondage, whiche appeared by these wordes: Globus conuersus est: the worlde is chaunged or tourned.

Medicus.

A good obseruacion: what did you se then?

Crispine.

I did beholde on the one side the .ix. Mu∣ses, with straunge instrumentes of Musike sittyng vnder the hille Parnasus, and the Poetes sittyng vnder the grene trees, with Laurell garlandes, besette with Roses a∣bout their heddes, hauyng golden pennes in their handes, as Homer, He••iodus, En∣nius. &c. writing verses of sondrie kindes. And Lucanus sa••te there verie highe, nere vnto the Cloudes, appareilled in Purple: saiyng.

Quantum sermotus ego: Cardine Pernasus gemino petit ethe∣ra colle.

Motis Phoebo Bromio{que} sacer:

And nere them satte old Morall Goore, with pleasaun•• penne in hande, commen∣ding honeste loue without luste, and plea∣sure without pride. Holinesse in the Cler∣gie, no tirannie in rew••ers, no falshode in Lawiers, no Usurie in Marchauntes, no rebellion in the Commons, and vnitee e∣mong kingdomes. &c.

Skelton satte in the corner of a Piller, with a froste bitten face, frowning, and is scante yet cleane cooled of the hotte bur∣ning cholour, kindled againste the canke∣red Cardinalle Wolsey: writing many a sharpe disticons, with bloodie pēne against him, and sente theim by the infernalle ri∣uers Stvx Flegiton, and Acheron, by the Feriman of helle called Charon, to the said Cardinalle.

How the Cardinall came of nought And his prelacie solde and bought, And where soche Prelates bee, Sprong of lowe degree:

And spirituall dignitee, Farewell benignitee, Farewell simplicitee, Farewell humanitee, Farewell good charitee. Thus paruum literatus, Came from Rome gatus, Doctour dawpatus, Scante a bachelaratus. And thus Skelton did ende, with wolsey his frende.

Wittie Chaucer sat•• in a chaire of gold couered with Roses, writyng Prose and Rime, accoumpanied with the spirites of many Kinges, Knightes, and faire ladies. Whom he pleasauntlie besprinkeled with the sweet•• water of the welle, consecrated vnto the Muses, ecleped Aganippe. And as his heauenlie spirite cōmended his dere Brigham, for the woorthie intombing of his bones, worthie of memorie, in the long sleping chamber, of moste famous kinges

Euen so in tragedie, he bewailed the so∣daine resurreccion of many a noble man, before their time: in spoiling of Epitaphes wherby many haue loste their inheritaūce &c. And furder thus he saied lamenting.

Coueteous menne dooe catche, all that thei maie haue, The fielde and the flocke, the toumbe and the graue: And as thei abuse riches, and their graues that are gone, The same measure thei shall haue e∣uery one, Yet no buriall hurteth holie menne, though beastes them deuour, Nor riche graue preuaileth the wic∣ked, for all yearthly power.

Lamentyng Lidgate, lurkyng emong the Lilies, with a balde skons, with a gar∣lande of Willowes aboute his pate: boo∣ted he was after Saincte Benettes guise, and a blacke Stamell robe, with a lothlie

monsterous hoode hanging backward, his stooping forwarde bewailing euery estate with the spirite of prouidence. Forese••ng the falles of wicked men, and the slipperie seates of Princes, the ebbyng and flowing the risyng and fallyng of men in aucthori∣tée, and how vertue doe aduaunce the sim∣ple, and vice ouerthrowe the mooste noble of the worlde. And thus he saied.

Oh noble Princes conceiue and dooe lere, The fall of kynges for misgouernere, And prudently peisyng this matter, Vertue is stronger then either plate or maile: Therefore consider when wisedome dooe counsaile, Chief preseruatiue of Princelie ma∣gnificence, Is to almightie GOD to dooe due re∣ueren••e.

Then Bartley with an hoopyng Rus∣sette

long coate, with a pretie hoode in his necke, and fiue knottes vppon his girdle, after Fraunces trickes. He was borne be∣yonde the colde Riuer of Twede. He lod∣ged vppon a sweete bedde of Chamomill, vnder the Sinamon tree: aboute him ma∣ny Shepherdes and shepe, with pleasaunt pipes: greatlie abhorring the life of Cour∣tiers, Citezens Usurers, and Banckrup∣tes. &c. whose old daies are miserable. And the estate of shepherdes and countree peo∣ple, he compted moste happiest and sure. &c. Saiyng:

VVho entreth the Courte in young & tender age. Are lightlie blinded with folie and outrage: But soche as entre with witte and grauitee: Bowe not so sone to soche enormitee: But or thei enter if thei haue learned nought,

Afterward is vertue the lest of their thought.

Nexte theim in a blacke chaire of Gette stone, in a coate of armes satte an aunci∣ente knight, in Orenge Tawnie, as one forsaken, bearyng vpon his breast a white Lion, with a Croune of riche golde on his hedde: his name was sir Dauie Linse, vp∣pon the mounte, with a hammer of strong steele in his hande, breakyng a sonder the counterfeicte crosse kaies of Rome, forged by Antichriste: And thus this good knight of Scotlande saied, to Englande the elder brother, and Scotlande the younger.

Habitare fratres in vnum, Is a blesfull thyng, One God, one faith, one baptisme pure One lawe, one lande, and one kyng: Clappe handes together brethren dere Vnfained truce together make, And like frendes dooe euer accorde, But Frenche and Romaine doe firste

forsake, You are without the continent, A sole lande of auncient fame, Ab origine a people olde, Bolde Britaines ecleped by name, S••cut erat in principio: Graunt oh God it maie bee, In saecula saeculorum, That we maie haue peace in thee, Then we shall feare no forein power, That againste vs shall aduaunce, The Tartre cruell, the curse of Rome Ne yet the power of Fraunce. &c.

On the seconde square was a faire diall for this Orison, vnto whiche was added the howers of the planettes, vpon thesame was written in large letters of fine golde, Tempora labuntur.

Medicus.

There stoppe and laie a Strawe. For Tempora labuntur, is to saie: by little and

little, time dooe slippe awaie. I will hear•• the reste of the matter at leasure. What is it a clocke?

Crispine.

But early daie, skant .viij. of the clocke.

Medicus.

Well I praie you, dispence all thinges in order Contra Pestem, in thesame sorte, bothe noumber of the Simples, Dose and quantitee, euen as you did it yesterdaie, whiche was geuen to Paule.

Crispine.

Sir, I haue spente all my fine Myrrhe, what shall I doe?

Medicus.

You are a wise manne, put in Quid pro quo, called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Hoc est sim∣plicia que aliorum facultati similium penu∣ria subponi possunt medici consilio. Intel∣ligis?

Crispinus.

Etiam domine Doctor.

Medicus.

Moue te otius, & quicquid agas pruden∣ter agas.

Crispine.

By God he shall paie for the malt grin∣ding,

he haue enough, he know none ende of his pelfe, it will come to an euill ende. God sende me more soche cheates. What, me thinke I se twoo men in long gounes, with shorte beardes at the gates, what are thei a Gods name?

Medicus.

I knowe them verie well, thei are twoo petti foggers in the Lawe, the one is called maister Auarus, a good gentleman, and of a greate house, a man of good conscience, in déede he is my c••sen germaine, on my mo∣thers side: Surelie he can geue good coun∣saile, and is ••itte to be with soche a manne, as maister Antonius is, in deede thei haue been long acquainted, and will neuer giue ouer vnto the ende.

Crispine.

Who is the other on the lefte hande, he semeth to be a proper gentlemanne and a studious, he is leane, an handsome clenlie man. Me thinke he haue on eche side of his goune a bagge, and his hande in theim.

Medicus.

Euery man haue his grace and gesture: I promise you, I durste committe a greate secrete vnto him. Oh he is a peragon.

Crispine.

What meaneth he by winckyng like a Goose in the raine, and biting of his lippe.

Medicus.

* 1.2Doe you note that? It is a good signe of a constante man, marke it when you will, he is a wittie fellowe, and one that is in greate estimacion, fit for maister Antoni∣us, his name is Ambodexter. Goe doun•• with spede, and saie you haue geuen mai∣ster Antonius his purgacion, and this daie he haue no leasure to speake with any mā, and also how that he is amended: for, if the curate were here for the soule, wee for the bodie,* 1.3 & Auarus for the purse: here wer but a madde company, we should neuer a∣gree together, but fall into discordes. Dis∣patche them with spede, fare ye well. I wil goe and cause him to bee letten blood, and kepe him from slepe, then shall he bee pur∣ged to morowe in the morning. Bring the pouder against the plague with you.

Crispine.

GOD geue you good morowe gentille maister Auarus: what maister Ambodex∣ter, how fare you bothe? maister Antonius did moche desire to haue spoken with you,

eight howers paste. In deede within this twoo houres, sauyng your worshippes, he hath taken a purgacion, whiche haue caste suche aire abrode, that I was not hable to abide in the chamber, I had forgotten my perfumes, to make all well.

Auarus.

What thinke you of hym, shall he es∣cape or no? Who is with hym? I praie you tell me.

Crispine.

None but Doctor Capistranus, whiche also desire your absence, because he haue hym in cure: and truste to make hym slepe after his lacke of rest, and to morowe take your pleasure with hym.

Auarus.

Fare ye well: we haue drawen and in∣grossed his bookes, commende vs to mai∣ster Doctour, it were a good pastyme, ••o take the foote clothe from his Mule, for .ij. or three houres in pastyme.

Ambodexter.

I had rather haue the Mule.

Auarus.

What the deuill doeth this doctor here? If this purgyng wer not, we would clense

and erpulse with our resettes, that whiche should serue our tourne well enough.

Ambodexter.

I warraunt you the Doctour doe make woorke for vs bothe: wee shall bryng our matters to passe in good time, take no care man for the matter, we will preuente the doctor to morowe, when he cometh hether with a presente, and bring him some pretie thinges, wherin he deliteth: we shall finde soche meanes to perswade with him by lit∣tle and little, to be executors of his will, ac∣cording to his old promise. Further, he wil take it kindely, that we dooe claime kinred on hym by his mothers side, whiche was a kinde harted woman, and full of metrix, ha, ha, ha. She was in deede of those qua∣litees, her sonne is like the mother, as see∣meth by one in the house.

Auarus.

I feare that damosell will marre all to∣gether: she doeth rule the rost, she ware th•• ke••es. He cā neuer haue her out of his sight yet Reinold his man thinketh hymself, in more estimaciō with her, then his maister.

Ambodexter.

The last yere I counterfeeted a sickenes

of purpose, as I can when I lust, I framed my Phisicion to my phantasie, no manne thought that I should haue liued twoo da∣yes, when I was a lone I laughed. You remember whom I made myne executor, euen Antonius Mantuanus, I then proui∣dentlie by three thynges, did foresee this tyme and cause. The first was, his greate surfeictes in banquetyng: the seconde, his watchyng at Chesse and Cardes, the third you knowe what.

Auarus.

Well, well, be as be maie is no bāning▪ I doe feare many thinges. First the medi∣cines maie chaunce recouer him, then wee shall haue nothyng. Well, Reinolde and the damosel be euer in presence, and watch him: she cheares her maister with a louing countenaunce. Reinold saies, that he hath doen true seruice a long time. &c. Well, I smelle an other padde in the strawe: when all this is doen, the curate is a craftie Rhe∣torician, well can he perswade and reherse Gods vengeaunce, threates and plagues, by examples moste fearfull, like thonder∣boltes, describing the scalding hous of hel, ve, ve, ve, with the storie of Diues and Pau∣per,

and the daie of iudgement, reading the Homelie of death, criyng out al is but va∣nitie, vanitie, and vexacion of minde, dam∣nacion, except repentaunce, and true con∣fession frō the harte, restitucion of wron∣ges, he will kepe a stire, and bring our co∣sin into a fooles paradise. It is he that will raise vp all the beggers in the toun: he wil crie, geue with your own hand, for the daie you are a man, to morowe yearth & ashes.

Ambodexter.

* 1.4First, let vs be sober, and seme to bée so∣rowfull for him, desiring nothing but one∣ly his life. If he stand in great daunger, the doctor shall haue his leaue, and tary no lō∣ger with him, in whō I thinke he haue no hope to recouer, let him be well rewarded. Secondly let Reinold be sent into the coū∣tree, to the debtours for money: tell hym it shall tourne to his greate profite, and how his maister doeth intēde to take him as his sonne, and will trust none but onely hym, to fetche the money in the coūtree. Third∣ly, I will seme to fantasie the minion, wi∣shyng her to bee my wife, alledging what broken slepes she hath caused me to haue, and the cause of my commyng hether one∣ly

for her staie. Then I wil practise for the keies of the greate blacke cheste, and of the steele caskette. Fourthlie, maister Curate shalbe gently saluted with a Barnardes blowe, wee will commende him, wee will praie with him, and also receiue the Com∣munion with our cosin, that he maie haue a good opinion in vs, and deliuer hym a bagge with fiue pound in pence to geue to the poore, in whose absence, peraduenture our Scribe and wée shall frame the wille: how like you this practise? If this will not serue, I haue a shifte of descante in store, that I learned in Bosomes Inne.

Auarus.

The Deuill take altogether, so that wée had the gold, practise this I praie you: you haue a good witte, by my troth I could not slepe all this night for this matter, if you were not, I could doe nothyng, but stande like a shepe.

Ambodexter.

I warrant you, I haue had long experi∣ence in this trade, euerywhere within this Realme, I can doe the like with the helpe of Auarus, whiche is a verie good penne man, close and honest, he writeth sonderie

handes,* 1.5 and is a liuelie grauer of Seales hymself, also is a kinde harted fellowe: for he will not sticke to lende his frend an othe if néede doe require.

Auarus.

The worlde is full of starting holes, mē maie skant knowe how to trust men now a daies, but for the good report that I doe heare of this honest felowe, I will be glad to haue his acquaintaūce. I knewe diuerse of his kinsmen .xx. yeres ago: GOD haue mercie of all Christen soules, it was then a mery worlde, and will neuer be so good a∣gaine, vntill this Gospellyng Preachers haue a sweating sickenes in Smithfieled, and their Bible burnte, well, would some wer at libertée for their sakes. Well, wel.

Ambodexter.

Oh I doe remember that reuerent mor∣tified father, that holy man bishop Boner, that blessed catholique confessor of Rome, if he were againe at libertée, he would not dailie to make thē, but trimly would reste these felowes, and after burne theim, you knowe his workmanship verie well.

Auarus.

He is my cosin Germain, and Per••urus

that honest felowe, was his boie, & brought vp with him in his youth, and your graūd∣father did penne his prologue, in the booke called De vera obedientia, when as thei laughed merely,* 1.6 saiyng thei had rather put to their handes, then either their heddes or hartes, wise men, wise men.

Ambodexter.

Yea, soche wisemenne will serue the tyme, Prudenter agere, and bee as wise as Serpentes, and simple as Doues.

Auarus.

To haue the nature of a serpent, I will stande with them: but beshrowe my harte, if I would bee as simple as a Doue, either so simple, fearfull, or doltishe, but rather as my good lorde Boner. Quasi Leo rugiens querēs quein deuoret. And thus he would expounde that texte, whiche muste haue soche a glose vpon it.

Ambodexter.

I am a lone vpon gloses,* 1.7 I haue arte in store to sophist. I was brought vp .iij. yere with a Frier of mont Piller, he taught me how to hādle prosa, obscurum, inordinatū, and barbarum, with genus and species: full wel I can hādle the matter, bothe pro and

contra. Commonlie these are my figures, and serue well to my purpose, as Enigma, proaemiae, ironiae sarcasimus, antephrasis, & chatientismus. I haue many rotten rules, whiche dooe serue for the purse: I learned theim at Paris, thei are written in an olde Barbarous Frenche booke. When wee are at more leasure, I will shewe thee all my cūnyng, my gaines and profites. Now lette vs conferre bothe together, this after noone about our matters.

Auarus.

Contēted in that case, as for termes and trickes in Logike, I forse not of them, thei will paie for no horse bread:* 1.8 it is golde that maketh a glad hart. He deserueth reuerēce and rule, that hath it and kept it: go let vs dine together, and sende for our friendes, Rapax, Capax, and Tenax, to kepe vs com¦panie an hower or twoo, for thei are good felowes.

Ambodexter.

Agréed, I like their companie very well thei are my frendes, and kinde harted men

Auarus.

And mine also, go let vs depart, and not bée séen moche together abroade standyng

in counsaill, because our matters are not curraunte.

Medicus.

Crispinus, where haue you béen so long? I thought it a yere since youre departure, but I haue shorted the tyme, in beholdyng this pitifull picture of Lucretia, and this fearfull siege of Pauie, but this Mappe of the discripciō of Terra Florida in America, haue reioysed me, there the gold & precious stones, and Balmes are so plentifull, siluer and spice are nothing with them, no labor is in that land, lōg life thei haue: one thing there is, whiche liketh me not emong thē.

Crispine.

What is that maister Doctor?

Medicus.

Thei haue neuer sickenesse vntill death doe come: therefore there is no good dwel∣lyng for vs in soche a lande. Further, it is saied, that thei haue no debate nor strief in their common wealthes.

Crispine.

Marie then it is as vnprofitable for La∣wers, as for Phisicians. I truste wee shall neuer be in that case, in this our countree.

Medicus.

God defende vs from soche a Common wealthe, it would marre altogether. Now let vs go to the chamber doore, and se how the worlde goeth with maister Antonius, and take our Phlebothomer with vs, to let hym blood.

Crispine.

I will waite on your maistership.

Medicus.

How doe you good maister Antonius, haue you taken any rest, since I was with youe

Antonius.

No more Maister Doctor, then if I had béen laied on hote coales.* 1.9 Oh sir, ther was neuer manne in soche a case, as I am in. I haue had moste fearfull dreames of theues to robbe me: me thought I was in the top of a high tower, tellyng of money, and so∣deinly there came an yearthquake, & shooke the tower in peces, & caste me doune vpon weapons all bloody, whiche a greate nom∣ber of Morians had in their handes, from thē I fell in the fire, whiche was like highe moūtaines about me, wheras was moche noise, and a cruell battaill. I did see there many of myne old acquaintaunce, whiche sometyme were of greate honour, bothe

men Spiritualle and Temporall, and the Pope hymself, with many of his friendes. Thei were in extreme wretchednesse, and sore handled of fearful Monsters, and wor∣mes gnawyng vpon their breastes, vppon whom was written: Conscience hath ac∣cused me, and hell deuoured me. Ve, ve, ve, and thus I am tossed to and fro,* 1.10 alas what shall I doe. Also I did heare many ragged and sicke people, crie vengeaunce on me•• and men in prison also, that said I had vn∣doen them, to inriche my self, oh good God.

Crispine.

Sir I praie you let me hackē in your eare.

Medicus.

What is the matter?

Crispine.

I will departe: his talke doeth so moche trouble me, me thinke he doeth woūde my conscience. Also, I will home, and caste a∣waie a greate nomber of rotten drugges, wherwith I haue gotten moche money, in deceiuyng the people, God forgeue me.

Medicus.

The vicar of sainct fooles be your ghost∣ly father, are you so wise? Tarie still with me, let hym paie for your rotten drugges,

for I maie saie to you, that he is almoste rotten alreadie hymself: me thinke youre conscience is to moche spiced with sodaine deuocion.

Antonius.

What meane you Maister Doctour, to wisper in the Apothicaries eare?

Medicus.

Nothyng sir, but I haue appoincted at what tyme that you should receiue your•• Clister, and how your Ptisa••••te should bée made: and in what order that your fronta∣rie should be applied to your forehedde, to cause you to slepe quietlie. These dreames are nothing, but proceading of the aboun∣daunce of choler, you are hote and drie: al∣so the time is very hote: the Sonne is now xx. degrees in Leo, the Dogge daies are to bee obserued. Notwithstandyng, feare no∣thyng, I warrant you, life for life, discom∣forte not your self, a man or a Mouse.

Antonius.

You are a merie gētleman, do your plea∣sure with me, I will put my self into your handes I tell you: holde here are .xx. olde Angelles, that did se no Sonne this tenne yere. Your Pothicarie shalbe well cōside∣red,

he semeth to bee an honest man, and a cunnyng fellowe: let him set vp all the bo∣xes and glasses in the windowe, and putte on his bonette.

Medicus.

What meane you sir, I pray you remem∣ber your self: so God helpe me, you are to blame: well, I will not contrarie you. My chief desire is to helpe you, without the re∣specte of money or golde, or other of youre commoditée. Crispine sette the boxes in the window: and you Surgean, prepare your lace, staffe and launce, with your vnce ves∣selles, that I maie consider his blood in or∣der and due quantitée, for hether vnto he is but in the augmentyng of his feuer. Fur∣ther, he had no fitte this ten houres, let him bloode by little and little, and although he doe fall into Lipothimion, it is no matter, let hym blood vntill it partly doe chaunge into a good colour. Oh Lorde, how might you liue? if this bloode should haue remai∣ned any longer, did you euer see the like? what a good hart he hath, the worst is past this would haue been a greate sore, or apo∣••••umacion: stop vp the vein a Gods name.

Crispine.

I did neuer see the like, but ones where as your Maistership did a greate cure, vp∣pon a noble man.

Medicus.

Oh, are you aduised of that Crispine, he is a good friende of myne, I haue twentie pounde yerelie of him. He sente me a fatte Bucke vpon Mondaie laste, and gaue me my Mule also, with a Ueluet foote clothe.

Crispine.

Sir, whē you sēt me home, I left your mule standing at the doore, but as I returned, I met a lackei clothed in Orenge taunie and white, with a paire of bare tāned legges, & a blewe night cap, with a plume of fethers riding on him as fast as he might gallop.

Medicus.

Oh the passion of Christ, my mule is sto∣len, I will hence, I had rather lose .xx.li. I will tarie no lēger:* 1.11 my Mule, I will teche him to ride on my Mule, I warrante him.

Crispine.

Sir, he nedeth no teachyng, he can ride well I warrant you. I heard him saie to a yong manne with a long cloke, lined with yellowe, that his maister sent him to carie a letter, to a marchaunt venterer, that was

crossailed into Terra Florida.

Medicus.

Geue me my goune, fare ye well Mai∣ster Antonius: as euill lucke as euer I had in all my life.

Antonius.

I had thought the losse of your friende, and of your Mule, had not been both a like to you. What for .xx. pound, I will paie it double: the knaue shall not escape, Crispine hath taken good markes vpon him. I will sende to euery Warde, blinde lane, Innes Woodes and fieldes, after the villaine. I will take the matter on me, because you come to me so gently: quiete your self, sitte doune again in the chaire, I were caste a∣waie if you wer gone, good maister doctor.

Medicus.

I care not so moche for the mule, but that my lorde will take moche vnkindnes, and think I should set light by his gift, and the Ruffians will laugh me to skorne, when thei knowe how I am hādled of the knaue boie. Well, I am cōtented with your offer I praie you beware you slepe not, you shal suppe the thinne broth of a chicken by and by, made with the .iiij. greate colde seedes

and cordiall Herbes. Crispine, I praie you make the broth in some stone or siluer ves∣sell. Copper or Brasse is not good for Mai∣ster Antonius: soche vessels are Leprous.

Antonius.

If you will haue it made of gold, you shal.

Medicus.

We shall make shifte with other thinges: gold shal serue to deaurat or gilde your lo∣singes, electuaries & manus christi withal.

Antonius.

Contented, so that it maketh on my side whatsoeuer it bee. But me thinke I feele slepe approching, what shall I doe?

Medicus.

Drawe the Curtaines, open the lukette of the Windowe: set Sallowes about the bedde, besprinkled with vineger and rose water. Take of that hotte mantell, let his hedde and shoulders be bolstred vp, lye not on your backe, leane towardes this side, let vs talke together like friendes, why are you so heauie and yearthlike.

Antonius.

I must nedes, I was made of yearth, but where is the yearth placed, of which I was made, and of what fassion is it, althoughe

I walke vpon thesame, yet doe I stande in doubt of the matter.

Medicus.

The yearth is moste heauie,* 1.12 and can bée in no place, but in the middest of heauen, not moueable, but round & hangeth continu∣ally, aboute the whiche are the landes and coūtries of the world fixed, which Aristotle doeth call Medium terrae, medium mundi.

Antonius.

Ar ther not bodies, which ar called simple.

Medicus.

Yes forsoth,* 1.13 those are the iiij. the fire hot and drie, the aire hote and moiste, the wa∣ter colde and moiste, the yearth colde and drie, and these are called the Elementes.

Antonius.

Are there not bodies called mixed, what are thei?

Medicus.

Animalia: as man, beast, fishe,* 1.14 foule and Wormes, Vegetabilia, as Herbe, Grasse and Trees, and mineralia, thinges vnder the yearth, as metalles.

Antonius.

Lorde, how is this worlde staied?

Medicus.

The twoo Pooles Articus and Artarti•••••• South and North, are the extreme limites aboute whom the whole frame of heauen is wrapped, and is called Axie coeli••.

Antonius.

Men saieth that certaine starres doe go∣uerne the thinges beneth here in yearth.

Medicus.

Thei doe so in déede, as it is well proued when as the Sunne and Moone doe enter into any of their circles, in those great bo∣dies, then our little bodies in yearth dooe feele the goodnes or euilnes of them, as A∣ries, Leo, and Sagittarius, are hote, drie and bitter, cholorike, and are gouernyng hotte and drie thinges, and this is called the firy triplicitee. The second triplicitee, is of aire hotte and moiste, sanguine, swete, and doe gouerne Sanguine people. And other tir∣plicitee is of water, colde & moiste, flegma∣tike, hauing the gouernment of cold rawe bodies. The laste is the yearth, the mother of all thinges, cold and drie melancholie.

Antonius.

What doe the knowlege of these thyn∣ges profite to Phisicke, I praie you tel me?

Medicus.

Moste chiefly: for where, as the Philo∣sopher dooe leaue, there the Phisicion dooe begin. That is, he must be first a good na∣tural Philosophier, he must haue y^e know∣lege o•• times and seasons, and be acquain∣ted with complexiōs of men, obseruing the nature of thinges, and the climates vnder heauē, with the course of the Sonne, Moon and Starres, Aire and diet. &c.

Antonius.

I praie you, is there a soule in manne?

Medicus.

Yes forsothe.

Antonius.

Why then, there must nedes be a grea∣ter thing, as the cause of euery liuing soule whiche I take to bee GOD,* 1.15 whiche hath made all thinges, and when you and I tal¦ked together, you semed that, Nō est deus.

Medicus.

I professed to followe Aristotle, but my meaning was, that I credite not the Bible matters, I am no Diuine, I finde no rea∣sons there for my tourne: thei are to harde thinges for me, I commend them to Dar∣bell and Duns. &c.

Antonius.

Why, doeth Aristotle shewe any better reasons then is in the Bible? Then I pray you: what is the power of the soule?

Medicus.

In the soule saieth Aristotle in his boke of Ethiques,* 1.16 it hath .iij. sondrie powers. The one is named vegitable, in whiche euery man taketh parte with herbes, trees, and plantes. The seconde parte of the soule is named sensible: in this part man and beast are bothe a like in mouing. &c. The thirde parte is more, whiche is racionall, or ha∣uing reason. And this part of reason, hath both acte to doe well, and power to do euil. And these ij. are called Intellectiue, whiche learneth, deserueth and iudgeth in euery thing that maie be seen, felt, heard, or vn∣derstanded: but the power vnreasonable, as sodaine raging, criyng. &c. Is ascribed vnto the Lion, Horse, Hogge. &c. How like you this maner of talke, yet here is no scri¦pture, but Aristotle, I assure you.

Antonius.

Then it should appere, that the soule hath vertues: how many I praie you?

Medicus.

The first vertue is called Intellectual, frō

whiche springeth wisedome, science, & pru∣dence. And the .ij. is called moral, which is the mother of many good thinges, as chasti∣tee, liberalitee, humanitee, & good maners.

Antonius.

What is the cause of these twoo vertues in the soule.

Medicus.

The vertue Intellectual, ingendereth and is nourished by learning of good tutours, and men of experience, or readyng of good bookes of Philosophie: whiche is a secrets vertue in the soule. And also the morall co∣meth by good custome, and not by nature, as if one manne had twoo soonnes, the one brought vp in keping cattelle, the other in daily learning good lessons,* 1.17 although na∣ture did frame their bodies like in shape, yet thei should not bee like in condicions: morall prouideth, that naturall thinges in them bothe, can not bee moued by contra∣rie custome. For stones naturally, though thei be cast neuer so high by arte, yet must thei naturally fall doune againe. Euen so of fire being driuen doune, yet it will caste his flames vpwarde: so vertue is not in vs by nature, but onely by power to receiue

theim, for euery thing that is in vs by nature: first it is in vs bi powers, & after cō¦meth to acte, as it commeth to the senses of mankinde. For none can deny, but first•• manne hath power to heare, see, feele. &c. So the power doeth preuente, and cometh before the acte in nature.

Antonius.

Then if power goeth before thacte, then a man is called honest, good, or chaste, be∣fore: either nonestie, goodnesse, or chastitie appereth in him.

Medicus.

In thinges morall, euermore the acte goth before the power. An example: a Schoole-maister is called a Teacher, because of his learnyng, whiche is the worke goyng be∣fore the power. And the cause of a good mā is his good woorkes: and so of the eiuill, whose woorke is either dronkennesse, ad∣uitrie, thefte. &c. thei make him euill.

Antonius.

Then it should appere, that this thyng called Actus, or woorke, bringeth vertue and vice in man.

Medicus.

What els, doeth not euery man that li∣ueth

eate? But if he eate to moche or to lit∣tle, doeth it not bring sicknesse? Euen so of to moche laboure or idlenesse, of to moche boldnesse or cowardnesse, are not these ac∣tes vicious and euill? And dooeth not one meane moderate them bothe. Extreames are euer hurtfull.

Antonius.

What remedie then I praie you?

Medicus.

Nothyng is better then a meane, called temperaunce,* 1.18 whiche is gouerned by pru∣dence, whiche is euer contente betwene bothe, and reioyseth in it.

Antonius.

So then,* 1.19 if a man felle into extreme ad∣uersitie, and sustaine it paciently in his sic∣kenesse, pouertie, or cause of grief, call you this a meane, or no.

Medicus.

In euery woorke or sufferyng, there is pleasure or displeasure. If a manne doe re∣ioyce in trouble, in chastitie,* 1.20 in bearyng of cruell wordes or slaūder, the same is a pru∣dent manne, and his suffering maketh it a meane to him: but other men that are cha∣stised, and will suffer outwardlie, and it

greueth theim in so doyng, thesame is vi∣cious, and lacketh meane, or prudence.

Antonius.

Hath the soule any delites in her or no?

Medicus.

Yes trulie, in three thinges. The first•• profitable,* 1.21 wherof springeth housebandrie to nourishe the yearth, as also Phisicke to help the bodie, knighthod to go to battel. &c The seconde is delectable,* 1.22 as taking plea∣sure in thinges doen, which is chiefly nou∣rished of the soule, in whiche consisteth al•• the pleasures of the worlde. The thirde is called good,* 1.23 that is to be vertuous, louing, sober, paciēt, and also to the soule or minde, are enioyned, habite, power and passion.

Antonius.

Haue yong childrē the soule in al poinctes as womē haue or no, in operaciō or elecciō

Medicus.

Aristotle. saieth: that operacion of the will of the soule, is common to children, but the eleccion or choice, be not in them to will.

Antonius.

What is will in the soule?

Medicus.

The will is the entente, but eleccion is

the antecedent to the entente, for eleccion goeth before operacion or woorke, and the worke doeth followe thesame, as doyng of thinges, buiyng, selling, and all the artes and sciences, are so to be considered. Frste, by eleccion, then by operacion,* 1.24 as by art I doe proue you to haue the pestilence, expe∣rience hath taught me, whiche yong chil∣dren can not knowe, as Gramer, Retho∣rike, Musicke, Phisicke, before thei haue lerned thē, or begun with their principles.

Antonius.

Now I will stoppe and laie a strawe, and commen as yet no more of the matters of the soule, but onely of the body, and name∣ly in this poinct of the pestilence.* 1.25 What is the cause of thesame, good Maister doctor?

Medicus.

That whiche we doe se, we do testifie, and ••hat which we do testifie is true.* 1.26 Therfore no man ought in matters, which appertei∣neth to the estate of life, to write fables or lies, but that which is of great aucthorite•• and of good experience. This pestilent fe∣uer, saith Hipocrates,* 1.27 is in two partes cō∣sidered: the first is common to euery man, by the corrupcion of aire. The seconde is

priuate or particular to some men through euill diet, replecion, which bringeth putri∣faccion, and finally mortificacion. And Ga¦len in the diffrences of feuers, doth affirme thesame, saiyng: Vnam aerem viciatum ac putridum,* 1.28 alterā homoree corporis virioso victu colectos, & ad putrescendū paratos. Auicen also, Tractus quartus de febrib{us} pe¦stilentialibus. cap. i. Whē there doeth come a sodain alteracion or chaunge in the qua∣litie of water, frō cold to heate, or transmu∣tacion frō swetenes to stincke, as it chaun∣ceth in waters, through corrupted mixture of putrified vapour, inf••ctyng bothe aire & water, whiche of their own simplicitie are cleane, but through euill mixture are poi∣soned:* 1.29 or when strong windes doe cary pe∣stilēt fume or vapours from stinkyng pla∣ces, to the cleane partes, as bodies dedde of the plague, vnburied, or mortalitie in bat∣tail, death of cattell, rotten fennes, coming sodainly by the impression of aire,* 1.30 creping to the harte, corrupting the spirites, this is a dispersed pestilence, by the inspiracion of aire. Also by replecion, Uenus, bathyng, or openyng the pores, rotten foode, frui••t, moche Wine, or immoderate laboure, or

the time being hote and moiste. These are greate causes.

Antonius.

At what time of the yere dooeth the Pe∣stilence caste forthe her poison?

Medicus.

In the time of Haruest saieth Hypocra∣tes, are moste sharpe and dedlie sicknesses,* 1.31 but lesse daunger in the Spring time: and in the time of sondrie chaunge of Windes when the weather is hotte and moiste.

Antonius.

To what persones I praie you, doeth the Pestilence come?

Medicus.

Moste chiefly to them, vnder the place in¦fected, then to slotishe beastlie people, that kepe their houses and lodginges vnclene, their meate, drincke, and clothyng, moste noisome, their labour and trauell immo∣derate, or to theim whiche lacke prouident wisedome, to preuente the same by good diete, aire, Medicine. &c. Or to the bodies hotte and moiste. And these bodies doe in∣fecte other cleane bodies, and wheras ma∣ny people do dwell on heapes together, as Auicen saieth: Et communicat multitudi∣ne

hominum. &c. Fen. j. Tra. iiij.

Antonius.

By what signe or token is this perilous plague or stripe of the Pestilence, best kno∣wen emong the Phisicions. Go not about the bushe with subtile woordes, but plain∣lie speake the truthe to me, beyng in this fearfull daunger, as you doe well knowe that I am in.

Medicus.

* 1.32The signes are moste manifest whiche are the starres rūning course or rase after their causes. Oh the most fearfull eclipses of the Sunne and Moone, those heauenlie bodies are manifest signes of the pestilence emōg men, and the starres cadente in the begin∣ning of Haruest, or in the moneth of Sep∣tember, or moche South winde or Easte winde in the Canicular daies, with stormes and cloudes, and very cold nightes and ex∣treme hot daies, & moche chaunge of wea∣ther in a litle time, or whē birds do forsake their egges, flies or thinges breding vnder the grounde, do flie high by swarmes into the aire, or death of fishe or cattelle, or any dearth going before, these ar the signes of the pestilēce, & euident presages of thesame

Antonius.

These are good signes generalle, but particulare: what manifest tokens doe si∣gnifie the Plague or Pestilence in a man∣nes owne proper bodie.

Medicus.

Thei whiche are smitten with this stroke or plague,* 1.33 are not so open in the spirites as in other sicknesses are, but straite winded, thei doe swone and vomite yellowe chol∣lour, swelled in the stomacke with moche pain, breaking forth with stinking sweat. The extreme partes verie cold, but the in∣ternal partes boiling with heate and bur∣nyng, no reste, bloode distillyng from the nose: Urine somewhat watrie, and some∣tyme thicke with stincke, sometyme of co∣lour yellowe, sometyme blacke, skaldyng of the tonge, ordure moste stinkyng, with redde iyen, corrupted mouthe with black∣nes, quicke pulse and depe, but weake, hed¦ache, altered voice, losse of memorie, some∣time with ragyng in strong people. These and soche like are the manifest signes, how the hart hath drawen the venome to it, by attraccion of the aire: by the inspiracion of the arters to the harte, and so confirming it

to be the perilous feuer Pestilēciall. This is moste true: of this cometh foule bubos, antaxis and carbuncles, sores, through pu∣trifaccion, as Galene saieth: li.iii. De presa∣ge. Auicen. Fe. i. tract. iiii. Gal. lib. i. De dif∣fe. cap. iiii. & Rasis de constitutione pestilē∣tiae ad mansorem. Also this feuer is skante to be recouered, and almoste past help, whē these Symptomatas doe appere, as Galene saieth .iii. De praesage ex pul. qua propter neque hos curare tentandum erit.

Antonius.

You haue declared vnto me a fearfull tale of the Plague, whereof thousandes haue and shall die: a pitifull case how it cometh emong people sodainly, euen as you haue shewed, the cause primatiue in thaire. The antecedent,* 1.34 when thesame aire is drawen into the hart by attracciō of the arters: the coniunct, when it with boiling heat, doeth chaunge by putrifaccion, nature into the worse parte, and almoste paste cure of any Phisician, when it is come to this poincte, as I gather by your late talke, which doth putte me in greate feare of my life. But I will common with you for others, whiche are not infected, howe maie thei bee moste

safely defended, maister Doctor?

Medicus.

Would you fain knowe? Surely I will declare thee, the beste defence that I can, I will hide nothyng. First of all, let all men,* 1.35 women and children, auoide out of the ill aire, into a good soile: and then, accordyng to their age, strengthe of nature and com∣plexion, let eueryone of theim, with some good Medicene, drawe from the bodie, su∣perfluous moisture, and deminishe humor hotte and drie, and vse the regimente of di∣ete to driyng, sharped with vineger or tart thynges, and lesser meates, not so moche wine as thei haue vsed in custome, neither Potage, Milke, vnripe fruictes: hotte Spi∣ces, dates or Honie, or swete meates, wine with Suger are not tolorable. No anger or perturbacions of the minde,* 1.36 specially the passion called feare: for that doe drawe the spirites and bloode inwardes to the harte, and is a verie meane to receiue this plage. Neither vse actes venerous, nor bathyng, either with fume, Stoue, or warme water (for this cause): thei all dooe open the poo∣res of the body, neither quassyng or moche drinking: euen so thirst or drines is not to∣lorable,

or immoderate exercise or labour, speciallie after meate:* 1.37 Musicke is good in this case, and pleasaunt tales, and to haue the meates well sauced with cleane sharp•• vineger. Forget not to kepe the chamber, and clothyng cleane, no priues at hande, a softe fire with perfumes in the mornyng. Shift the lodgyng often tyme, and close in the South Easte windes, speciallie in the tyme of mistes,* 1.38 Cloudes and windes. And vse to smell vpon some pleasaunt perfume and to be letten blood, a little at ones, and to take Pilles contra Pestē: that is a good preseruatiue against the plague.

Antonius.

These are good rules, and happie are thei that do wisely obserue them in time, place and maner accordingly: but if one be new lie infected, what remedie then, as when a man is sicke, and the sore appereth not.

Medicus.

* 1.39A coming forthe like a bubos, are signes of those partes from whiche thei doe swell as example, in the lefte side, hedde, necke, flanckes. &c. but often times the plage sore will not appere, the verie cause is this: na∣ture is to weake, and the poison of the in∣feccion

to strong, that it cannot be expelled and this is moste perilous of all, whē soche a cruell conquerour doeth rain within the hart, the principall part of life, now posses∣sed with death. The causes of this, I haue declared before with signes to y^e same.* 1.40 Not withstanding, consider twoo thinges: first whether it is in bodies sanguine and cho∣lerike, or theim whiche are flegmatike, or melancholie, or not. The firste twoo, blood is the cause: the seconde .ij. abundaunce of euill humours. Therfore let blood,* 1.41 wher∣as it hath the victorie, and purge whereas other humours haue predominacion, or chief rule: in some menne, that haue verie strōg bodies, first purge, thā let blood. Note this, that what side be infected,* 1.42 let blood on that side: if it be aboue the hedde, open Ce∣phalica: if it be vnder the armes, Basilica, or harte veine: if it bee aboute the throte, then open Malleola, about the flanckes, bealie, legges. &c. open Iecoraria: if thei are verie weake or yong, then boxyng is good to the necke, shoulders, backe and thighes: if the stomacke be full, then with spede vomet••e and these thinges drawe the venome from the harte, and remoue the poison.

Antonius.

This is good in the cure of the Pesti∣lence, for I doe praise this blood letting ve∣rie well, in the beginnyng of the sickenes.

Medicus.

Blood must be letten in the beginning of the sickenes:* 1.43 for example, like as a potte is clensed of the scum or fome, in the begin¦nyng, when it plaieth on the fire, and ther∣by the liquour is clensed within the potte: euen so, blood lettyng and pilles, doe helpe and cleanse the Pestilence,* 1.44 when it begin∣neth firste to boile within the bodie. How∣bee it, certaine people maie not bleede: as women whiche haue their tymes aboun∣dauntlie: or menne hauing fluxe of the He∣moroides, children verie young, or people weake and aged.

Antonius.

I praie you, what quantitee of bloodde must be letten?

Medicus.

* 1.45Forsoth sower vnees, or little more, and must be doen euery moneth, sometyme in the Median, sometyme in the Basilica. &c. And not to slepe after thesame, during sixe seuen, or eight howers.

Antonius.

What Pilles dooe you vse againste the Plague.

Medicus.

The beste Pilles generallie vnder hea∣uen, and is thus made:* 1.46 take the beste Yel∣lowe Aloes twoo vnces, Myrrhe and Saf∣fron, of eche one vnce, beate them together in a Morter a good while, putte in a little sweete Wine, then rolle it vp, and of this make fiue Pilles, or seuen of one dragme, whereof take euery daie nexte your harte, a Scruple, or more, it will expulse the Pe∣stilence that daie. &c.

Antonius.

Haue you any good pociō in store for the Pestilence: to bee dronke a Mornynges, when the Pilles are not taken.

Medicus.

None better then this: take Theriaca, of the making of Andromachus .ij. Scruples which is a Triacle incomparable,* 1.47 passyng againste bothe poison and Pestilence, and the Antidotari of Mithridatis .i. Scruple. bole Armoniacke prepared, half a Scruple and the waters of distilled Roses,* 1.48 Scabi∣ous and Buglosse, of eche one vnce minge¦led

together: but this Medicene muste bee had of Crispine, or one of his companions, whiche vse no rotten ware.

Antonius.

Haue you any good pouder?

Medicus.

One better, I assure you, then a kinges raunsome, and thus it must bee made: take the leaues of Dictamnus, and the rootes of Turmentil, of Pimpernell, of Seduall, of Gentian, of Betonie, of eche halfe an vnce bole Armoniacke prepared an vnce, Terra sigillata .iij. dragmes, fine Aloes & Myrrhe of eche halfe an vnce, Saffron a dragme, Mastike .ij. dragmes: beate them together finely & fearsed, this is the pouder. Of this muste a dragme bee dronke in .iiij. or .vi. sponfull of Rose or Sorel water, whē dan∣ger approcheth, or in the tyme of danger.

Antonius.

These ar strōg things for many weke sto∣makes: is there any other holsom things?

Medicus.

The siruppes of Uiolettes, of Sorell, of Endiue, of sower Limondes, of eche like, mingled with Burrage water, and a Pti∣sane made of Barlie, mingled together, is

verie holsome to drinke, put in the pouder of bole Armoniack, whiche is of a singuler vertue to coole: for Galen did help thousā∣des at Rome with thesame Bole, and the Theriaca mingled together, in a great pe∣stilence, but in the pestilence tyme, one be∣yng infected therewith, let hym sweate by warme thinges, as hot tiles. &c. and let not the pacient eate, slepe, nor drinke, and eate light meates, as Henne, Capon, Cheken, Partriche, eating often, and little at ones, with sause, made sharpe of vineger, Orin∣ges, sharpe Limōdes, or Sorell, and in the first daie of the sickenes, that the pacient be kept from slepe, by talkyng, sprinklyng of swete water, rubbing of the bodie, as nose eares, or soft pulling of the heares, as thei maie be suffered, or a sponge dipped in vi∣neger, applied to the nose: and if vehement drinesse, or heate dooeth approche, then drinke the Syruppes laste rehearsed, and haue the Chamber cleane kepte, and also parfumed fower tymes of the daie, beware of stincke, let the perfumes bee made with Olibanum, Mastike, wood of Aloes, Ben∣iamin, Storax, Laudanum, Cloues, Iuni∣per, or so•••••• like, and sprincle al the cham∣ber

about with vineger:* 1.49 roses in the win∣dowes, or greene braunches of Sallowe, or of Quinces, are good, sprynkeled with Rose water and Uineger.

Antonius.

I haue heard saie, that Garlike and newe Ale, should be good for the Plague.

Medicus.

You doe saie truthe, Garlike is good for to bryng it, but not against it, it is so hotte, and hath power attractiue, and that is ve∣rie euill, and a meane to bring the plague· so are Onions,* 1.50 Leekes, Rocket, Radishe, and s••che baggage, whiche are sold about, in euery streate in Plaguie tyme, as mea∣nes for to bring thesame, it is pitie to suffer soche thynges. Furder, the multitudes of infected people emōg the whole, infecting them, or wearing the apparell of the dedde bodies of the Pestilence, whiche should bée burned: for it is like a fire, whē it haue got∣ten the victorie, and can not bee quenched. Priueis, filthie houses, gutters, chanilles, vncleane kept: also the people sicke, goyng abrode with the plague sore running, stin∣kyng and infectyng the whole, or vnwise ••ashe passing with an emptie stomack out

of the house: Neither to sitte tipplyng and drinking all the daie long, nor vse running wrestlyng, Daunsyng, or immoderate la∣bour, whiche doe not onely open the pores but also cause the winde to bee shorte, and the pulses to quicke, and the Arters drawe to the hart when it panteth, the pestilenci∣all aire and poison. And what is worse thā feare of mynde, whē one doeth heare ill ti∣dings, the death of father, mother, child. &c. By it the spirites and bloodde are drawen inwardes to the harte. Also of care, anger, wrathe. &c. These are all perilous:* 1.51 Mirthe must be vsed, specially in this case: Cattes, Dogges, Swine, Duckes, Doues, Hen∣nes or Gese, are verie vnholsome nere vn∣to the place or mansion of dwellyng, or lye ded in diches nere the toune: or many peo∣ple liyng together in one bed, or long wat¦ching in the night, or co••ti••nes of the bealy: shut vp the hotte house doores, and tennis plaie, whiche are moste venemous. Be ne∣uer without the electuarie of nuttes, thus made,* 1.52 cleue walnuttes .xx. fatte figges .xiij herbe Grace .ij. handfull Wormewoodde Fetherfu, or rather Cotula Foetida, called Buphthalmus, called Ore ••ye, and Scabios

of eche one handfull: the rootes of Aristo∣lochia longa, half an vnse: Aristōlochia ro∣tunda, an vnce and a halfe. The rootes of Turmentill, and of the lesser Burre, cal-Petasitus, Pimpernell, of eche twoo vnces and a halfe, the leaues of the verie Dictam ni one handfull, Baie beries three Drag∣mes, the pouder of Hartes horne twoo dra∣gmes and a halfe, Maces, Morrhe, Bole Armoniacke, and the yearth of Limodes, of eche Dragmes three, Salte of the Sea a dragme and a half, Nux vomica, dragmes twoo, Buglos flowers one handfull, stā∣ped together by arte, & with clarified honie make it: this is good to be eaten a dragme euery mornyng. Forget not the Pilles of Ruffi, of them maie bee taken one at ones.

Antonius.

After, or with this Pestilence, there will a fearfull sore appere, as we haue y^e know∣ledge vniuersall, by painfull experience, whiche we dooe call the plague sore, what doe you saie to thesame sore?

Medicus.

* 1.53This sore is called Carbunculus, of Car∣bo a Cole, or Anthrax: thei are bothe one, and not twoo, and is ingendered of moste

sharpe, hotte and grosse blood, whiche na∣ture doeth cast forthe through the skinne, to one particulare part, with extreme pain and perille to the bodie: whose Primatiu•• cause was, the corrupcion of aire or diete, drawen to the harte, of whiche pestiferous smoke, or poisoned fume, this sore hath his cause, & thesame sore is theffect folowing.

Antonius.

What are the signes: when it commeth nere hande?

Medicus.

A feuer going before,* 1.54 noisome and loth∣somnesse of stomacke, wambleyng of the harte, pulse not equall, vrine stinking, de∣sirous of slepe, perilous dreames with star∣tyng, through the sharpenesse of hotte and burning humours, and then a little pushe will creepe forthe like a scabbe, sometyme more then one, then it wille increase and shine like pitche or Bptumen, with passing pain, and then it will haue a crust like vn∣to the squanies or flakes of Iron, whē thei fall of, when the Smith doeth worke, and in colour like ashes is this crust, wrought by extreme heate and burnyng, therfore it maie be called the burnyng cole, or Ignem

persicum. Furder, there are fower colours to be obserued in the sore besides the crust, yelowe, redde, grene and blacke. The first twoo are not so daungerous as the second twoo are. Yet saieth Rasis in his booke of the pestilence, to Mansor the king, that the Carbuncle is deadlie, and moste perilous. And Auicen affirmeth the blacke to be in∣curable, speciallie when a Feuer Pestilēce doe reigne. Sometime it is drawen backe againe into the bodie, then no remeadie. Somtyme it happeneth in the moste noble places,* 1.55 as nere the harte, the throte, moste perilous, with sodain stopping the spirites of life. Some pestilēt sores doe come in the clensing places, as arme holes, flankes. &c And when nature is so strong, to caste it forthe with a redde colour, palishe, or yel∣lowishe, the cure is not then verie harde.

Antonius.

It should seme to bee moste harde: you haue shewed more periles then helpes he∣ther vnto: But if there bee any remedies, what are thei? I praie you tell them, for in that poincte you maie doe moche good.

Medicus.

Euen as I haue rehersed before, so will

I again begin in the cure of the carbuncle of the openyng of a vein, and if none other thing doe lette, as extreme weakenesse. &c. then let the pacient bleede, vntill the defec∣cion of the spirites, or nere hande swoning. Let it be doen on that side greued or afflic∣ted, as I haue saied before in the feuer Pe∣stilence of the Mediane. &c. Also forget not viij. speciall thinges. First the substaunce, as compasse, lengthe, depthe, hardnesse. &c. Second, the matter whereof it is bread, as blood. &c. The thirde as accidente, through the dolor, as a feuer, rednesse. &c. Fowerth to knowe it from a cause, wherof a doubt might arise thereof.* 1.56 And this is the diffe∣rence betwene theim. A Carbuncle in the beginnyng is verie harde, flamyng redde, extreme paine. &c. As I haue saied before, and will come quickelie to his hedde. But Cancer is not so redde, neither so painfull, yet moche harder, and longer time or it co∣meth to the hedde. But when it beginneth to wa••e softe, then it ripeth faster then the Carbuncle. The fift, of the causes efficiēt, whether it be ripe through cōcoccion or no or the qualities of the corrupted humours or hardnesse. &c. The sixte, in what place it

is, in place of perille or no. The seuenth is to worke by incision, plaster. &c. The .viij. is good diet, as aire, meate, drinks, slepe. &c. These are verie good obseruacions, wor∣thie of memorie in this case. And now fol∣loweth a perille to the Chirurgian, whiche muste bee richelie rewarded, for he putteth his life in daunger, in that, that he helpeth the sore bodie infected, he ought to bée pro∣uident, that doth take this matter in hand, and before he cometh to the pinche, to eate his antidotari of Methridatum,* 1.57 or to haue a Sponge with strong vineger, applied to his nosthrilles, to arme himself against the poisoned aire: and to take his launce in his hande, accordyng to the arte, takyng héede that in launcyng, he cutte no vaine or Se∣newe, which haue societie with eche other therefore launce not verie depe. This is no straunge thing after bloodletting, to launce the sore, to let forthe the matter, in some it will come forth aboundauntly, when it is ripe or rotten: in other some not, because the humours are grosse, and baken toge∣ther, or the runnyng matter farre in, or skante ripe, and nothyng will come forthe but salte, sharpe, filthie, stinckyng water:

then beware of any thing that might driue it backe again into the bodie, as colde, bole armen. &c. then thinsicion must be made in the lowest place, so that thereby the matter mate the soner auoide, and muste be made in the forme croked, if it bee not in a place full of senewes, if it be, then make the insi∣cion long: after the matter is run forth, thā couer it with lint dipped in this folowing, which is excellēt good, yea, if the matter be stubborne in the sore. Take Quinse seede,* 1.58 Galles, of eche. iij. dragmes, Myrrhe, Oli∣banum and Aloes, of eche .ij. dragmes and a half, Alom .ij. dragmes, Aristolochia the round rootes, Calamenthe, as moche: Cala∣menth, i. dragme and a halfe, Calcanthum a scruple, all beaten finelie, then temper it together in a little Redde Wine, made in small rolles: you maie kepe them drie, and then in this case dissolue it, or parte of it in the water of stilled milke, applie this with lint into the sore,* 1.59 also in this case to washe the sore with a sponge dipped in the warm waters of Dragōs, Scabious, swete wine, Aaristolochia and Comphori, or their de∣cocciō. And to haue the rootes of Compho∣••••, of Lillies, of Mallowes, sodden in white

wine vntill thei bée soft, then stamped and drawen through a strainer, put thereunto barlie meale & honie of roses, this is a very good thyng to applie to the sore,* 1.60 after the washing for .xij. houres, and will digest it. An other good medicen, both to ripe and as∣swage the pain: mallowes, violets, cham•• mill,* 1.61 of eche half an handfull, dill, halfe as moche, seeth theim and braie thē, then adt•• them barly meale, & oile of roses, flaxe sede beane meale, of eche .iij. vnces. Séeth them in swete wine, vntill thei waxe thicke, and make plaister. And to the places about the rootes of the carbuncle, round about it, this is good bothe to eradicate & defend the same Seeth sower oringes in vineger or sorell,* 1.62 and put a little bole armen to it, dip a cloth or flaxe in it, and applie it round about the sore: many tymes renewe it in this cure, read M. Thomas Gailes worthie booke.

* 1.63And to take awaie the harde crust of the carbuncle,* 1.64 doe thus. Take ceruse, dermili∣on, sublimated of eche .iij. dragmes, beaten finely in pouder, and parte of this maie bée cast vpō the same. And to this maie folowe mallowes, violets, lettes, of eche one hand full, sodden in mutton broth, the yolkes of

thrée egges, barlie meale, oile of roses, and freshe butter, of eche thrée vnces, this plai∣ster applied on, will take awaie the Pesti∣lent crust. Also the emplastrum of Diachilō paruum, twoo vnces with Amoniack, and Galbanū, of eche one vnce, made in a plai∣ster, applied to the place, or a plaister of fig∣ges, Doues doung and Uallerion rootes, and the rootes of mallowes, made and ap∣plied vpon the sore, are verie good ripers, and do moche preuail in this cure, and fur∣ther to bryng the cicatrice if neede require. Take oile of Myrrhe, of roses, of violettes,* 1.65 of eche twoo vnces, shepes Tallowe three vnces, gotes tallowe one vnce and a halfe, iuice of Colewortes three vnces, seeth thē together softlie, vntill the iuice bee consu∣med, then put thereunto halfe an vnce of Uermilion, ceruse as moche, and .ij. drag∣mes of letharge of gold, and seeth thē vnto a blacknes, stiere theim with a sticke, then put to theim sixe vnces terpentine, and as moche Waxe as shall suffice to make it in the forme of a cerot. And this will make a strong cicatris: and when the matter hath runne moche and is past venim, then this is a pouder moste precious to caste in, and

drie it by little & little.* 1.66 Take Ashes of Dill of burnt leade, of Terra lemnia, of eche one dragme, litharge of siluer, floures of pom∣garnates, and galles without holes, of ech ij. dragmes, Ceruse, Creuishels, Snailes hornes, roche Alome burnt, of eche ij. scru∣ples beaten in pouder:* 1.67 this is the pouder, and hereafter followeth a good ointmente to heale the sore. Oile of Roses .ij. vnces, Ceruse, burnt leade, Litharge, of eche one a scruple, red Roses .ij. scruples in pouder, the rootes of the greace Comphori, and the floures of Pomegranates, bole Armen, of eche one scruple, the seede of Purslen tw•••• graines, white waxe asmoche as shall suf∣fice: and make this ointmente in a Leaden morter if it maie be. Emōg al simples Sim¦phatum called Cōphori, is greatly lauded for the healing or helpyng of the Carbun∣cle, being grounde or beaten betwene .ij. stones,* 1.68 and warm applied to the place. So is the herbe called Scabios in the same ma∣ner: so is the Lillie rootes rosted and brused and warme laied on. (Lette not the greate white oniō rosted, and the pith in the mid∣dest being taken forthe, stopped with good Triacle or Mythridatum warme, and ap∣plied

to the place, be forgotten) for some vse none other thynges for the Carbuncle, to cure it. Also consider this to kepe the bodie temperate in eatyng. Beware of repleciō, light Fishe, with tarte sauces, Limondes, Sorell, Oringes, thinne wine with water but no Suger or swete thynges. Forgette not swete perfumes of Rose water,* 1.69 cloues Maces, Uineger in a perfumyng pan, and haue the stomacke annointed with oile of Maces, and the complet ointment of roses, of eche .ij. scruples, and Gallae muschata, x. graines, and dippe in a linē cloth in white waxe, oile of Roses, white and red Saun∣ders, and the pouder of orientall Pearles, fine bole Armen, and the swete woodde of Aloes with Rose water, made warme in a little vessell vpō charcole, and be not with∣out a good Pomeamber made of Storax,* 1.70 Calamite three dragmes, Laudani, half an vnce, flowers of water Lillies, Uiolettes, the woode of Aloes, Spikenarde, of eche a dragme and a halfe, the thrée Saunders of eche halfe a dragme, Sinamon twoo scru∣ples, Masticke .xx. graines, white Poppie seede, Campher, of eche a scruple, Amber and Muske, of eche three graines, with rose

water, in a warme Morter, make Pome∣amber,* 1.71 make a hole in it, and putte a silke lace through it, and wear this against cor∣rupted aire. The bodie must haue benefite by purgacion, with clister or suppositer, or some pocion, as the syrup of roses solutiue iij. vnces,* 1.72 confeccion of Hamech, v. Drag∣mes, and water of Endiue .iiij. vnces, min¦gled together, and drinke at ones in the morning, or Benedicta laxatiua, with wa∣ter of Buglosse. Bee not without Manus Christi, to eate oftētimes: and the conserue of Roses, to eate before meate daiely. Be∣ware of moche ••lepe, whiche wil make the heate double aboute and within the harte, for sleepe draweth in heate: and in tyme of wakyng, it is spred abroade, and the heate draweth to the extremes, as handes, hedde and feete. Sir, forget not this I praie you.

Antonius.

No maister Doctor, I warraunt you, I haue noted it well, and though it help not me, yet I trust it shall doe good to others, when I am gone.

Medicus.

Now sir, I wil take my leaue for a time my calling is soche that I must depart, and

diuers of my pacientes, whiche diligently doe loke for me, as the hirdes do for the day after a colde Winters night. And as time and occasion shall serue, I will retourne. I haue hidden nothyng from you, that maie be a meanes to your health: for whē life is gone, farewell altogether, wife, children, gold, landes, treasures, and all the golden glory of this worlde, & frendes also. Ther∣fore, seeyng life is the beste iewell,* 1.73 whiche brings delites to the hart, pleasures to the iye and eare, swete sauours to sense of smel¦ling, and many hidden treasures knowe∣lege to the vertue of vnderstanding, what is he that would make soche an exchange, if it were possible to the contrarie? To for∣sake his goldē be decked bedde with swete slepes, to lie vtterly lost, rotten, forgotten, and stincking, in a filthie pit of darkenes, inclosed and wrapped with Wormes. As by example, we maie see the multitude of graues in euery churche yarde, and greate heapes of rotten bones, whom wee knowe not of what degrée thei wer, riche or poore in their liues. Therefore sir, to conclude, plucke vp that weake hart, reioyce▪ be glad and cast awaie all care, I warraunte you.

Antonius.

Gramercies master doctor, I haue put you to pain with moche talke and questions: I will kepe theim in memorie, thei shall not be forgotten of my part. Euē so forget not your promise in comming to me again, my truste is in you: wee shall make daylie ex∣chaūge, cunnyng for gold, and loue for la∣bor, yours I am. Haue, take you that to bie you a newe Mule, a foote clothe, & a goune.

Medicus.

* 1.74What meane your maistership? wel, geue me your hand, and here is mine with myn hart also, euer yours at commaundement as your owne. Thus fare you well, vntill my returne: in the meane while, passe the time with some pleasaunt company Eate good brothe made of Chickens,* 1.75 leane Mut∣ton, roste a little Partriche, eate light lea∣uened breade, beware of grosse meates, Bief, Porke. &c. And Sallettes, strōge wine, Spise, swete meates, and rawe fru∣tes. I praie you remember this, and drink your Diacodion at night, to reconcile slepe again, and be somwhat laxatiue.

Antonius.

I thanke you moste hartely: fare you wel.

Medicus.

Crispine where are you? Is is not tyme to depart? We haue taried here very long, but not without gaine.

Crispine.

Sir, I haue thought it a moneth since our commyng hether: you haue been sente for eight tymes this after noone, and twoo of your pacientes are dedde this daie.

Medicus.

That is no maruell, for who can hold that will awaie? I shall haue more worke then I can put my hande vnto. It is now a gol∣den worlde with me, and with you also.

Crispinus.

God continue the same:* 1.76 I would thou∣sandes were sicke, but I would haue none dedde, but the beggers that doe trouble the world, and haue no money to paie. I praie you what thinke you of maister Antonius shall he escape it or no?

Medicus.

I haue his plentifull rewarde, and mo∣ney for you also. I haue had lōg talke with hym. But to bee plain with you, I thinke neuer to se hym again aliue. He was paste cure or I came to hym, and he could not

skape, therefore I kepte hym with longe talke, but I spake but softly.

Crispine.

Then I perceiue your talke was vnpro¦fitable to him. Yet I wrote it in a little pa∣per booke in my hande.

Medicus.

Not vnprofitable, if the Phisicion come in the beginnyng or augmentyng of the sicknesse. But in the full state of this sick∣nesse, it is moste daūgerous, because death will preuente it, or it comet•• to the decli∣nacion. Oh it is a strong poison if the Pe∣stilence crepe to his harte.

Crispine.

This man loued you well in his life: will you not be at his buriall Maister Doctor?

Medicus.

He loued me as I loued him. He me for healthe,* 1.77 and I hym for money: And thei, whiche are preseruers of the life of manne ought not to be present at the death or bu∣riall of thesame man: therefore I haue ta∣ken my leaue, I warraunt you Crispine, I will retourne to hym no more. Thus fare you well til the morowe in the mornyng.

Crispine.

I must also depar to my shoppe, I haue moche businesse to doe: I will come to you at your commaundement maister Doctor. Thus fare you well.

Ciuis.

Good wife,* 1.78 the daiely iangling and rin∣ging of the belles, the cōming in of the mi∣nister to euery hous, in ministryng the cō∣munion, in reading the Homelie of death, the digging vp of graues, the sparring in of windowes, & the blasing forth of the blewe crosse, doe make my hart trimble & quake: alas what shall I doe to saue my life?

Vxor.

Sir, we are but yong,* 1.79 and haue but a time in this worlde, what doeth it profite vs to gather riches together, and can not enioye thē, why tary we here so long? I do thinke euery hower a yere, vntill we be gone, my harte is as colde as a stone, and as heuy as leade, God helpe me. Seyng that we haue sent our children forthe three wéekes paste into a good aire, and a swéete countrée, let vs folowe thē: we shalbe welcome to your brothers house, I dare saie my sister will reioyce in our comming, and so will al our friendes there: Lette vs take leaue of our

neighbours, and returne merelei home a∣gain, whē the plague is paste, and the dog daies ended, and there you maie occupie your stocke, and haue gaine thereof.

Ciuis.

Oh wife, we knowe not our returne, for the Apostle saieth to you,* 1.80 that will saie: to daie or to morowe, wee will goe to soche a citee, and buie and sell, and haue gain, and knowe not what shall happe to morowe, what is our life? It is as a vapoure, that appereth for a little tyme, and afterward•• vanishe awaie, for that ye ought to saie, i•• the Lorde will, and if wee liue, wée will to this, or that place: and if it please God, wee will bothe departe, and retourne again, at his good will and pleasure, for wee are in his handes, whether so euer wée do••e goe: and I truste it is not againste Gods com∣maundement or pleasure, that we departe from this infected aire.

Vxor.

I knowe not what God will in our de∣partyng, but my fleshe trimbles, when I doe heare the death belle ryng.

Ciuis.

* 1.81Yes surely, we haue the Apostle saiyng

(for our defence in fliyng) no man euer yet hath hated his owne fleshe, but nurished & cherished it, therefore who can nurishe his fleshe in a corrupted aire, but rather do kill it? Furder, I heard a doctor of Phisike saie that one called Galen, in a booke of Triacle to one Pison his frende, that the Pestilence was like a monstrous hungrie beaste, de∣uouryng and eatyng not a fewe, but som∣times whole citees, that by respiracion or drawyng in their breath, doe take the poi∣soned aire. He lauded Hypocrates, whiche saieth, that to remoue frō the infected aire into a clener, thereby saieth he, thei did not draw in more foule aire, and this was his onely remedie for the plague, to them that did remaine:* 1.82 He commaunded not onelie simple woodde to bee burned, with in the citee of Athenes, but also moste swete flo∣wers and spices, perfumes: as gummes & ointementes to purge the aire. And wife, feare of death, enforced many holie men to flie: as Iacob from his cruel brother Esau:* 1.83 Dauid from Saule: Elias from Iesabell: the christian men for feare of death, did flie the tyrannie of the Papistes: and although these menne did not flie the Pestilence, 〈◊〉〈◊〉

thei fledde all for feare of death, and so w•••• we by Goddes grace, obserue soch whole∣sō meanes, & obeie his diuine prouidence: also I will leaue my house with my faith∣full frendes, and take the keies of the che∣••••es with me. Where are our horses?

Vxor.

Our thinges are readie, haue you taken your leaue of your neighbours? Man.

Ciuis.

I haue doen: so now let vs depart a god∣des blessyng good wife.

Vxor.

Geue me my horse Roger.

Roger.

Maistres, he is here ready at your hand, a good gelding, God blesse him and sweete saincte Loye.

Ciuis.

Bryng foorthe myne also, and lette the seruauntes forget nothyng behinde them, specially the steele Casket: let vs ride faire and softly, vntill we be out of the toune.

Vxor.

How pleasaunt are these swéete fieldes, ••arnished with faire plantes and flowers, the birdes doe sing swéetely and pitifullie,

in the bushes: here are pleasaunt woodes: Iesus manne, who would bee in the Citée again? Not I for an .C. pound: oh help me, my horse starteth, and had like to haue vn∣sadled me, let me sit faster for fallyng.

Ciuis.

He is a burde iyed lade, I warrant you, and you are no good horse womā, for I did neuer se you ride before, in all my life, but exercise will make you perfite: your mo∣ther was a good horse woman, and loued riding well, as any gentle woman that e∣uer I knewe in my life: well, she is gone, and we must folowe, this is the worlde.

Vxor.

I neuer was so farre from London in al my life: how farre haue we ridden already sir I praie you?

Ciuis.

Wife, we haue riddē x. mile this morning

Vxor.

What toune is this: I praie you sir?

Ciuis.

This is Barnet, wheras Samuel your sonne was nurssed: and yonder is Richard Higmers house, we will see him as we doe returne home again, we wil not tary now

because euery Inne is pestered with Lon∣doners and carriers, and it is earely daies: how like you this toune Dame?

Vxor.

A pretie streate, but me thinke the people go very plain, it is no citee as I do suppose by their maners: what house is this at the tounes ende, compassed with a Mote?

Ciuis.

Here dwelleth a friende of ours: this is called the folde.

Vxor.

What greate smoke is in yonder wood God graunt it be well.

Ciuis.

It is nothing but makyng of Charcole, in that place.

Vxor.

* 1.84Why, is Charcole made? I had thought all thynges had be made at London, yet I did neuer see no Charcoles made there: by my truth I had thought that thei had gro∣wen vpon trees, and had not been made.

Ciuis.

You are a wise woman, thei are made of woode: but how like you this Heath? Here was foughtē a fearfull field, called Palme

Sondaie battaile, in Kyng Edwarde the fowerth time, many thousandes wer slain on this grounde, here was slaine the noble Erle of Warwicke.

Roger.

If it please your maistership, my graūd∣father was also here, with .xx. talle men of the Parishe, whereas I was borne, & none of thē escaped, but my graundfather onely I had his bowe in my hande many a time no man could stirre the string when it was bente: also his harnes was worne vpō our sainct Georges backe in our churche, ma∣ny a colde Winter after, and I harde my grandame tell how he escaped.

Ciuis.

Tell Roger I praie thee: howe he did es∣cape the daunger.

Roger.

Sir, when the battaile was pitched, and appoincted to bee foughten,* 1.85 nere vnto this Windmill, and the Somons geuen by the Harottes of armes, that spere, polax, black bille, bowe and arrowes, should bée sette a woorke the daie folowyng, & that it should be tried by bloodie weapon, a sodain feare fel on my grandfather: and thesame night

when it was darke, he stale out of the erles campe, for feare of the kinges displeasure, and hid hym in the Woode, and at length he espied a greate hollowe Oke tree, with armes somewhat gréene, and climbed vp, partly through cunning, for he was a that∣cher, but feare was worthe a ladder to him and then by the helpe of a writhen arme of the tree he wente doune, and there remai∣ned a good while, and was fedde there by the space of a monethe, with olde Ackors, and Nuttes, which squirelles had brought in, and also did in his Sallet kepe the rain water for his drinke, and at lengthe esca∣ped the daunger.

Ciuis.

So he mighte for any stripes that he had there: he was well harnessed with a Tree, but I neuer read this in the Chronicle.

Roger.

There be many thinges [and it shal please your Maistership] whiche are not written in the Chronicles: I do thinke are as true, as Ihon your man do read vnto me, when we doe go to bedde▪ almoste euery night, I shall neuer forget thē, farewell good Ihon

Ciuis.

What are thei Roger?

Roger.

Marie sir, he tolde me in the olde tyme, howe Horses, Shepe, Hogges, Dogges, Cattes, Rattes, and Mise did speake, and I dooe partlie beleue that, for as moche as our Parate will saie, Parate is a minion, and beware the Catte: and she will cal me Roger, as plaine as your Maistership, and although Dogges haue lost their speache, yet thei doe vnderstande: when I doe whi∣stell, Trowle wil come, he will fetche my gloue, my bolte in the water, or stoope, or lye doune when I bidde hym. And surelie he whiche doe vnderstande, and here what I doe saie, maie speake also: but that there are so many languages now adaies,* 1.86 he cā not tell whiche to speake, and to leaue all a lone, and turneth all to plain barkyng, as women doe, when as thei doe fall from reasonyng into scoldyng.

Ciuis.

Thou foolishe knaue,* 1.87 what meaneste thou to speake thus? Dogges did neuer speake, thei do want reason. For there are three thynges to bee considered, in eche li∣uing creature: the first is vegitable, wher∣in

man, Dogge and tree, are all one. The seconde is sensible, in this, man and dogge are all one. The third is, where man excel∣leth al other creatures, where he haue rea∣son and iudgemente, hauyng acte to dooe well, and power to doe euill: through this reason man doe speake. The beaste wan∣teth reason, therefore he speaketh not. &c. But Dogges are taught by custome, and not moued by reason.

Roger.

Well sir, our Ihons booke shall con∣found your talke, for I did se it in writing, and that whiche is written, I will beleue and folowe by Gods grace, and no more.

Ciuis.

Why, wil you doe no more for me, then I haue commaunded you by writing: you are an honest felowe?

Roger.

* 1.88When I came to you first, you gaue me a scroll of parchment, wherin said you, do no more but as this commaūdeth, and I will aske no more of thee, but allow thy seruice Now in case your Maistership with your horse, fell bothe into the myre ouer the ea∣res: if it wer not in my writing, to help you

bothe forthe, I haue doen you no euill ser∣uice. Ha, ha, ha, how cracke you this nutte?

Vxor.

It wer a good deede to cracke your pate you saucie verlet: Gods dentie Iacke sauce whence came you?

Roger.

Forsothe out of the countree, Maistres nisibecetur, as fine as fippence: how prete∣ly you can call verlet, and sweare by Gods deintie. God blesse you, I did neuer se you stomble before.

Vxor.

Out roge and slaue, auaunte villaine, out of my sight knaue.

Roger.

I thinke you learned your Rhetorike in the vniuersttée of Bridewell: you wer ne∣uer well wormed, when you wer young.

Vxor.

Sir, you do ride to fast: haue you not heard what this honest man haue saied to me?

Ciuis.

Dame, all thinges must bée taken in good parte, I heard nothing•• if any thing bée a∣misse, at our return it shalbe amended, we must haue one riding foole by the waie, so

that it bee dooen merilie, and exceade not. Well, felowe you doe beleue that beastes will speake, because it is written so of thē.

Roger.

That I will, if that my Maistres wille holde her peace, I will proue it.

Vxor.

I praie you geue eare to no soche trifles and lies, good housebande.

Ciuis.

I praie you bee contente, it is as good to heare a lye, whiche hurteth not: as some∣tyme a true tale that profiteth not. Tel on gentle Roger a Gods name: ride nere, and let vs be merie.

Roger.

* 1.89It so chaunced in the pleasaunt tyme of Maie, a lustie young Lion after his praie, or newe eaten spoile, did lye hym doune to slepe, and yet being a slepe, the beastes that wer nere hande, did quake and tremble in beholding of his moste fearful coūtenaūce, and fledde awaie. The poore cillie Mouse, crept out of her small caue, and came softe∣lie, thinkyng no harme, and plaied about the Lyon, and piped merelie, wherewith the Lyon awaked sodainlie, and was an∣grie,

caught the Mouse fortwith, thinking to haue deuoured it:* 1.90 but this poore Mouse kneled doune vpon her knes, and helde vp her handes, saiyng: I haue offended youre lordship, I praie you therefore forgeue me, and lette me haue my life, and ones I shall requite it you, wherat the Liō smiled, and let her passe awaie in peace. Within fewe daies, thesame Lion was taken in a strong Nette, thinkyng neuer to haue been deli∣uered: and cried moste fearfully with des∣peracion. But gentle▪ Margerie Mouse, withall speede came runnyng, and with sharpe filed téethe, did gnawe and shred the strong cordes, whiche intrapped the Lion: wherewith he stoode at libertie, and went his waie. This is true, whē Mise and Li∣ons did speake: I will abide by thesame, sir if it shall please your Maistership.

Ciuis.

No surelie, Lyons nor Mise did neuer speake, Roger:* 1.91 but some wise manne haue written this to this ende, that like as cru∣eltie is to bee vtterlie auoided, euen so in∣gratitude is to be abhorred. We may here by consider, that verie poore menne in the time of trouble, maie help the mightie and

strong,* 1.92 and often times doe in deede. Why should then the greate lorde, forget the be∣nefite of a poore grome, which many waies maie pleasure him: (if y^e simple Mouse wer from the Lyon) then the gentleman were moste wretched, in occupacion & drudgerie moste vile. If poore and simple men, in the tyme of extreme persecuciō, by Gods pro∣uidēce haue deliuered the oppressed, which persecuted or oppressed, since are come to greate promociō, bothe spirituall and tem∣porall, doe forget thesame benefites again It wer not onely the partes of infidels, but also more ingratefull then beastes, as hor∣ses, whiche haue rescued their maisters in battaill, and dogges, whiche would neuer eate after their maisters death, but die vpō their graues. An other kind of ingratitude is with Iudas, whē one bestowe a benefite vpon a man, thesame manne to inuente to murder his frende.* 1.93 As if a man in the time of cold, should finde a snake; and for foolishe pitie, put hym into his bosome to warme him, I thinke his nature is to sting the mā Or if a Shepherde should bryng a young Wolfe vp emong his Lambes, and geue him Milke, surely he would fall to bloode

at length, and kill the Shepherde himself?* 1.94

Roger.

Sir, you haue well expounded my tale, now I know your meaning: I perceiue it is not good keping of soche vnkind beastes, thei are verie costly and perilous, & would haue Iacke Drakes medicene. Sir,* 1.95 vpon a time when quaklyng Duckes did speake, and Hēhes kackling could talke, which in déede are continuall companions, because thei are Foules (Marie of sondrie kyndes, and names) for Duckes and all water fou∣les, doe not onely take the benefite of good∣ly pondes, riuers, and pleasaunt waters, in the tyme of hotte Sammer, with many deintie meates, and at their pleasures, thei doe take the commoditee of the lande also. The lande birdes doe but onely liue vpon the lande as footemen: (as for Haukes and fleyng birdes of the woodde, whiche daily persecuteth eche other, as murderers dooe innocentes, or cruell riche men the poore, that would liue in reste, I medle not with∣al.) Upō a time the Drake with his Duck and his neighbours the Gese,* 1.96 beyng plea∣sauntlie disposed (as Iudas was in plai∣yng the traitour) onely to destroie the land

foules, to the ende that thei might enioye, both lande & water together at their plea∣sure.* 1.97 After the example of coueteous men, that would haue all thynges in their han∣des, and when one manne haue any good profitable trade to liue vpon, thei will co∣uette or vse thesame: although their poore neighbors do perishe, and that is the cause of moche trouble good maister, now adaies that euery callyng doe pinche & poule eche other, and where the hedge is lowest, that commonlie is sonest caste to grounde, but the strong stakes, will stand in the storme. I speake not of the lustie Lawiers, nor the mightie marchaūtes, no, no, I wil obserue nothing in them, let euery Fatte stande v∣pon his owne bottome.) Nowe saied the Drake to the lande foules: good cosins we are moche bounde vnto you, for your daily entertainemente in good chere, and daiely companie: we with our wiues and childrē are moche bound vnto you, you are moste naturall vnto vs, we daiely feede and take of your commoditie, and come at our plea∣sures. Now therefore, take parte with vs, and vse your pleasure vppon the Water, there is plentie of young frie & fishe, greate

store, Sallet herbes of sondrie kindes, good against euery woūde or grief: bothe meate and medicen. &c. Oh Lorde what pleasure is there to be had, come swéete hartes, & let vs take our progresse, to the pleasaūt riuer of Tagus, where as the sandes of that s••od are precious gold, there is bothe pleasure & riches, go and gather wealth and treasure: here is pouertie, there is sweetenesse, and here but stinkyng dunghilles, there is li∣bertie, and here in bondage, there is ioye of the mynde, and here daily feare of the For that false traitour.* 1.98 This swéete tale plea∣sed well the lande foules (as it is often ty∣mes seen, that faire woordes make fooles fain) notwithstandyng the Cocke said vn∣to the Drake, Gossippe, our bringyng vp, haue been by lande, and our fathers also, wee can not swim, we haue no webbes in our féete to rowe withall as you haue: wée feare drounyng. Whaat saied the Drake? what nedeth these wordes emōg frendes? Use maketh perfitenesse, wee will teache you to swim by arte, as well as we doe by nature (nothing is to hard to willing min∣des.) Well, let vs goe together, haue with you saied the Cocke, then verie womanlie

the Ducke did take the Henne by the hand folowing their housebandes,* 1.99 whiche were arme and arme, walking before the Chic∣kens, and the Ducklynges followed in a goodlie traine, as it had been to a sumpte∣ous Mariage, betwene the Cockes eldeste soonne with the pale face, and the Drakes doughter with the pretee foote: at the water side, the Drake with all the water foules, did stope lowe, and receiue their carriage, and when thei were all a kockehorse toge∣ther,* 1.100 thei wente into the water. And efte∣sones, when the Drake gaue his watche woorde, the water foules did all sincke at ones, and all the lande foules wer sodain∣ly in a wrecke, and many of them perished, and some with moche a doe came to lande, as the Cocke and the Hēne, whiche retur∣ned home with care and shame, and liued long in lamētacion, and remained solita∣rie, without companie of water foules: the For whiche had gaines a both sides, made the league with a learned oracion, painted full of Rhetorike betwen them: declaryng what vnitée was betwene brethren, and the fruites and peace, and so reconciled the water foules to lande, where was a feined

truce, taken with moche dissemblyng, yet verie good chere, shakyng of handes, kis∣syng. &c. Greate was the feaste at the Coc∣kes place, the Nightyngale was there, to pleasure them with Musike, moche daun∣syng, and after thesame a cosilie bankette: as you knowe the maner of the water fou∣les, doe commonlie sitte nere the ground, but lande foules doe mounte vp to perke, and so thei did. And when all were at rest, secretly the Cocke sente by the Catte a to∣ken, to come and doe execucion emong the gratefull traitours: the Cat was glad, and ran to the Fox, finding him in sacrifice and praier, and shortlie declared thambassage. The Foxe at the firste refused so hainous and bloodie a deede: declaryng his indiffe∣rencie and rightousnesse like a father, and also what eiuill opinion many creatures, causeles had in him. Marie saied he, I loue the Cocke and his wife verie well: I also knowe how the Water foules haue doen, I haue made the vnitée betwene theim. I will therfore not be seen in this matter my self, but twoo of my soonnes shall doe the feacte, go before, and clime in at the win∣dowe, and open the doore. So in fine it was

doen, sodainlie the water foules paied for the Malte grindyng, and were slaine like flattryng ingratefull villaines: and this is Ihon Drakes medicen.

Ciuis.

This tale is well tolde Roger, I thanke thee: ingratefull people and flatterers bee moste wicked, and the children of Iudas, if any man bee prepharred by an other man, and made riche: if this riche manne should forget that benefite to his friende if he fell into pouertie, whether would the poor mā¦nes lacke more vere him, or thingratitude of him that he hath pleasured: (which per∣haps hath saied, if euer I haue soche a Ma∣riage,* 1.101 yea or soche a ferme. And in case if he be of the clergie, soche a bishoprike, prebē∣darie. &c. thou shalt not want as long as I can helpe, I will neuer forget your curte∣sie, shewed to me in these my daies of trou∣ble, how saiest thou to this question Roger

Roger.

* 1.102Sir, sauing your reuerence, you maie cal it ingratitude: but slaundring no man in my iudgement, it is plain knauerie. Therfore it is good triyng of friendes before nede do require, as the mā which taught his sonne

to kille a swine, and put him in a sacke all bloodie, and secretly to proue his friendes, whiche of theim would helpe,* 1.103 not onelie to hide the slain man, but also helpe to cōuaie him in safetie, and to conclude, in the time of trouble, emong many he found but one.

Ciuis.

Marie God defende,* 1.104 that murder should be cloked by frendship, whiche although it be, yet God often himself will take venge∣aunce bee it neuer so close, as example in Cain. I like not this example of thyne.

Roger.

I haue better in store, if you will here it.

Ciuis.

Saie on a Gods name, it is good passing the time, but me thinke we ride to fast, we haue daie enough: how do you wife, what chere with you?

Vxor.

Well sir, I thanke you, I heare your talke well. God be with our frēdes at home, and forgeue our foes, and ende thes plagues at London, & amende al people that through sinne haue moued God to plague vs.

Ciuis.

It is well said good wife. Amen. Amen.

Remember your talke goodman Roger.

Roger.

* 1.105Sir, in our countrée there was a man, whiche by occupacion was a Frier (or Re∣ligion, whether you will) I did knowe him well, he wore a graie cote, well tucked vn∣der his corded girdle, with a paire of trime white hose, the knaue had a good legge (for his brother was a Yeoman of the Garde, whiche was a greate wrestler) Marie this Frier although he did rise to the Quere by darcke night, he neded no candell his nose was so redde and brighte, and although he had but little money in store in his purse, yet his nose and cheekes wer well set with currall and rubies: and I doe remember, the gentleman had one greate orient perle in his right iye, he neuer trauelled with∣out Aquaeviti, and spectacles, and fine Ne∣dles with a quarter staffe in his neck, whi∣che he called a blesse beggar, he had many proper colacions and pardons in store, he song his prickesong verie trime, he would haue béen lothe that any should haue song one note aboue hym in the Quere, he was welbeloued in the coūtrée, speciallie emōg women, a close man, he was neuer with∣out

a bale of dice, Marie he vsed no foisting nor cogging, he plaied wel at tables,* 1.106 and of all meates he moste loued a fat Pigge and a pudding, but he might not awaie to eate Communions, nor read the scripture, it e∣uer went against his stomacke, but he was cockhope for Portas matters and cakes: I dare saie he could raise belzebub and bring deuils to crepe and crouche in a circle: also he had the Foolosophers stone, and taught many his secretes therein. Upon a tyme this holy Frier in the moneth of Iune tra∣ueiled in his pleasaunt prograce, with his boie folowyng hym, whiche was in deede his sisters sōne, one yong Renob by name,* 1.107 a pretie young stripplyng: and as thei had walked from the morning, vntill tenne of the clocke, after the Frier had saied our la∣die Mattens, with a Collect of s. Fraunces his patrō, he sat doune vnder a hawthorne tree, to rest with his boie also, & gaue eare to the pleasaunte charme of swéete birdes, moche commending the Coko, because she kept so constante her plain song, when the Nightingale did sing the distant. Oh saied the boie, this were Paradise, if here were meate and drinke for our reliefe, I would

desire no better dwellyng. Yes saied the Frier, it wer better to be a Pope, which is aboue all men, Angelles & deuils, whiche haue the Keyes of heauen gatts vnder his girdle: to whō the kinges of the worlde do seruice. That is past my reche said the boy I lacke frendes, age, and learnyng to take that dignitie. Who will finde fault and if thou wert the Pope my poore boie, said the Frier, by my preferment, what kindnesse wouldest thou shew to me, beyng so moche thy frend? sir said the boie, you should be a Latro Cardinall on my right hand,* 1.108 and be half with me in my kingdome, remember saied the Frier your promise, geue me thy hande my lad. I promise thee I will make thee Pope.* 1.109 Then he raised sir sathanas the patron of Popes, trāsformed the tree wher the boie was into kyngly palace, with. S. Peters throne, with infinite of the clergie, emong whom sate this yong Pope, forth∣with came the Frier in this golden dream, very lowly he kneled and put the Pope in remembraunce who he was, and what he had doen, hoping to be gratified, to whom sir Pope said, I knowe thée not thou low∣sie beggar, and false Frier, I am discended

of kingly parentage, aduaunced by God & learning, awaie with thy blacke cursse, a∣waie.* 1.110 Forthwith the frier by subtle calcu∣lacion, withdrewe this delusion of his ma∣ster the deuil, & the late pope with his pōpe became again the Friers boie, sitting in a Birche tree, to whom the Frier said: now y^u false vile boie, I knowe what you would haue dooen, if you had been Pope. Come doune in the deuilles name, and carry my wallet. And first for your knauerie, I will make you a ••anket of birche, and thus my yong maister was serued in this sorte.

Ciuis.

Honours do chaunge maners, yet pride will haue a fall. I dooe remember a poore yong man, by fortune was aduanced into promocion, to whom one of his olde fello∣wes came, and spake homelie vnto hym, after the olde fashion, as when thei dwelte together, in scorne the riche man aunswe∣red disdainfully, after this maner.

Take me as I am, and not as I was: We are now no felowes it is com to passe

To whom the other made aunswere thus againe.

Somtime thou wart, y^t now thou art not.

And now thou art that thā thou werst no•• And what thou shalt be tell thou cāst not,* 1.111 Although a churles hart, liue y^u maist not. Well, well, God sende euery ship to a good Hauen, and sende vs peace, and sease this plague, that we maie returne home again to our old acquaintaunce, for this weeke I doe remember .xx. good felowes met toge∣ther at one banket, my very frendes Mar∣chaūtes and others: you knowe them well Roger, towardes yong men & honest, great doers, close and iust, wittie I warrant you to preuēt any prouiso in the loue of monie, by moneth or yere, no state or time wil nip them, thei can wisely colour the matter, for Roger, that is an art emong marchauntes not to be reueled,* 1.112 God sende me into their companie again. Notwithstāding I haue been no great doer in lending forth mony.

Roger.

Maister, it geueth me in mine hart, that you shall neuer meete altogether again.

Ciuis.

Wherefore.

Roger.

* 1.113Sir, vpon a time a nomber of Foxes as∣sembled together at a great banket, where

as was great plentie of lambes flesh, hen∣nes. &c. In the ende of the feast, this blessed companie lothe to departe, inquired of old Reinold the daie, wherin thei should mete again to be merie: I will tel you said Rei∣nard, when we shall mete again, & so trai∣ned thē vp to an high mountain, where as there were many high waies deriued into sondrie countries, farewel said he my chil∣dren, and folowe your fathers steppes, goe euery one a sondry waie, for we shal neuer mete again at a banket, vntill we do mete together in the Skineers shop. Sir, I haue wayed the matter, I warrante you it will proue so. One of late departed, I will not name vnto you, whiche is ded & buried, my felowe Ihon did read his Epitaphe to me.

Ciuis.

What was it I praie thee?

Roger.

No sir, you will be angrie then.

Ciuis.

Surelie,* 1.114 I will geue no place to anger to chafe my blood: it is perilous in the Pe∣stilent time. For next to the seruyng of al∣mightie God, and my Christian duetie to my neighbour: I will geue my self onelie

to mirthe, whiche is the greateste iew••ll of this worlde.

Roger.

Sir, thus it was, an Epitaph of one that was a greate vsurer, couetous, mercilesse, and churlishe, but passyng riche, he knewe no ende of his gooddes: it made him looke a lofte, and many louted full lowe at his presence. And thus it was written of him.

* 1.115Here lieth Gathrall that neuer did good, A gentlemanne degenerate, yet sprong of good blood:

Mercilesse, an vsurer al the daies of his life An oppresser of poore mē, a mouer of strief: A Papiste of religion, a soldiour of Rome, Here dwelleth his carkas til y^e daie of dom Depriued of riches, spoiled of fame, Nothing left ī memorie, but an euil name His iudgemēt we cōmēde to y^e s••at diuine, Yet he liued like a wolf, & died like aswine

Ciuis·

Who was this made vppon, Roger I praie thee tell me.

Roger.

* 1.116No so God helpe me, I will not name him inquire it out: but I heard a frend of mine saie, that he had written a booke againste

Extorcioners and Usurers, whiche if thei amende not, he will name them, and paint them forthe, not onely them, but their pa∣rentes, whiche are dedde, whiche vsed that vile trade of vsurie, procuryng Gods ven∣geaunce, incasting the Pestilence vpon ci∣tees, tounes, and countrees.* 1.117 Causyng po∣uertie, breaking vp houses moste aunciēte selling to lende vpon gain, destroiyng hos∣pitalitie, with infinite incombraunces by forfitures statutes. &c. Oh that the vsurers goodes wer confiscated after their deathes to the cōmon poore, as in case thei had slain themselues, and that thei had no power in lawe, to be wil vnto their childrē y^• which was gotten in seruyng the deuill, whiche would not prospere to the .iij. heire, for euil gottē goodes are euill spent said our eurat vpon Sondaie.* 1.118 Oh that the buriyng were turned into open castyng forth emong ded cattell, and not nombred in the christen fe∣lowshippe after death, whiche in life haue been so wicked, so saied our Eurate. Sir, you heard not how a man of late did lette forth his Cow by y^e quarter, & by the yere.

Ciuis.

No, I praie thee tell me.

Roger.

* 1.119There was a man of late, whiche had one C. pound, whiche he called his Cowe, and secretly did lende her forthe, sometyme by the weke, and his price was .x. shillinges the weke, and when her milke became de∣rer, and many fasting daies at hāde, he cal∣led for his Cowe, and said that she gaue in different milke. But saied he, I muste put her into a better pasture, and she shall geue more Milke by .v. shilling in the weke. &c. and at length white meate became a little better cheape, because of the great plentie of soche kiene in the toune,* 1.120 that his Cowe was brought home again, because that she was letten so dere, now because she hadde doen him good seruice, and he had no more but her at home, and calfe he had none by her to kepe vp the stocke. His seruaunt lo∣ued milke well, and could get none of that Cowe: when his maister was from home, stale the Cowe and ran his waie, and he∣therto hath not been found, neither Cowe nor man, and all the milke is gone.

Ciuis.

A meruailous thing good lorde? What would soche grasiers doe, if thei had many

cattell or Kiene in store?

Roger.

Thei would destroie all a common welth, but we see what mischief thei haue doen.

Ciuis.

It is tyme to baite oure Horses in this toune: if there be any good meate, we will dine, prepare Roger, for wee haue farre to ride this night. Knowe what compaignie is in the Inne: and whether the house bee infected or no?

Roger.

Sir, I was in the haule,* 1.121 and there sitteth our hoste, a pleasaunt merie manne, and a good compaignion I warrante him: I see by his nose, that of al potage he loueth good ale, he is mounsire graundpanche, he hath chafed the Parsone woundrouslie, whiche with a paire of spectacles, plaieth at tables with him, he stealeth fast the table men frō him. Our hostes hath a sharpe nose, thinne lipped, a proper yong woman, with a shril voice like a Catte: but when she is pleased I warrant her to be a pleasaunt woman, and full of meritrix. The good man of this house bringeth vp youth verie well,* 1.122 and is verie louing to his soonne, and I perceiue

he will beare moche with hym.

Ciuis.

Wherein?

Vxor.

* 1.123When I came into the halle, my yong maister leaned vpon his fathers shoulder, with his cappe vpon his hedde, sittyng and coughyng like a lought.

Ciuis.

Call the chamberlain, and let vs haue a chamber seuerallie.

Roger.

With all spede a Gods name. Chāber∣lain, prepare your chamber, with all thin∣ges accordingly in thesame, for my master and maistres. Whip maister Ostiler with a caste of ligerdemain, bestirre you sirrha, and make .xij.d. of thrée botles of stinkyng Haie and a pecke of Ottes.* 1.124 You can make a stoned horse a gelding, and a long taile a curtall. You knowe my meanyng wele∣nough: hem sirrha, I saie nothyng but mū I haue seen you often in Smithfielde.

Vxor.

What, s••r sau••••, you take vpō you to plaie the Comptroller: g••e qui••tly aboute your owne businesse, and let the Ostler alone.

Roger.

Maistres, it is merie when knaues are mette, I did see hym ones aske blessyng to xij. Godfathers at ones.

Ciuis.

This is a comlie parlour, verie netlie and trimlie apparelled, London like,* 1.125 the win∣dowes are well glased, & faire clothes with pleasaunte borders aboute thesame, with many wise saiynges painted vpon theim.

Vxor.

I praie you housband what is that wri∣tyng in those golden letters.

Ciuis.

Melius est claudus in via quam cursor prae∣ter viam. That is, better is an halting mā whiche kepeth the right waie, then y^e swift ronner besides, that wandereth a straie.

Vxor.

What is that man, I praie you?

Ciuis.

Non hominis consuetudinem sed dei ve∣ritatem sequi oportet: whiche is.* 1.126 It beho∣ueth vs not to followe the constitucions or customes of men, but to followe the truthe of Gods woorde. And also there is a good saiyng folowyng thesame.

* 1.127Doctrinis varijs & peregrinis ne circum∣feramini. That is: be not ledde or caried a∣bout with diuers or straūge doctrine. Here is more folowyng, written vpon the chim∣ney good wife, whiche I will kepe in store. Oh God what serpentes thei are, lorde de∣fende me frō them. I wil rede it to my self. O mulier omne facinus ausa est plus quam omne, verum nihil est peius, nec erit vnqā mulierae inter hominum calamitatis.

Vxor.

* 1.128Well man, well, truth seketh no corners, I perceiue there is some noughtie matter, that I knowe not, but by one thing that I doe here, you rede, make me thinke all the rest is not well, because the first woorde is starke naught: & that is. O mulier, whiche I am sure is, nor euer was good. I praie you husbande, what picture is that folowing.

Ciuis.

Oh wife, it was the picture or Effigium of a noble man, which in his daies serued a moste noble kyng, and was like the cut∣ter doune of trees by the grounde. But if God had not vppon some see ete purpose,* 1.129 preuented his labour in the woode of An∣tichriste, he would haue vtterly eradicated

the rootes with all Papistrie, whiche daie∣lie spryngeth out in euery corner, to the hurte of better fruictes, but by Gods grace thei shalbe confounded as God will.

Vxor.

What picture is that,* 1.130 whiche haue a graie hore hed, a long goune, and a locke of gold linkyng his lippes together: with many goodlie bookes before hym, and a paire of blinde spectacles vpon his nose, with a gol¦den penne fallen from his handes.

Ciuis.

Oh wife, wife, it is a Candell couered with a Bushell, and the noble Talente of wisedome hiddē, whiche must make great accomptes, for kepyng silence.

Vxor.

Sir, in that table enuironed rounde with antikes of sondrie portratures, the ground thereof is hoping Russet are three pictures blacke scholer like, or in morning clothing the first of them with a Rake in his hande with teeth of golde, doe stoupe verie lowe, groping belike in y^e lake after some thyng that he would finde, and out of this deepe water aboue the Rake a little steple.* 1.131 The seconde gapeth vp towardes the heauen,

holdyng the lappe of his goune abrode,* 1.132 as though he would catche something, and to wardes thesame lappe or spred goun doth falle, as it were a churche with a stiple and quere. &c. The third man standeth in poor apparell,* 1.133 with a booke in his right hande, and his lefte hande vpon his breast, with a lamentable countenaunce, in simple ap∣parell: what meaneth this housebande?

Ciuis.

Dame, I dare saie but little to this mat∣ter to others, but to you, I wil speake a lit∣tle,* 1.134 and not so moche as I doe thinke. The first man is one, that hath but a verie smal learning, lesser wit, & lesse honestie, he hath no vertue to prefer him to liuing, but one∣ly the name and title of a priest or minister he would fain haue a benefice or personage of some pretie donatiue, he cannot get it at the Bishoppes handes, he lacketh Goddes plough. This felowe raketh with the De∣uils golden rake,* 1.135 euen in the conscience of the couetous patrons, or confounders hart whiche geueth the benefice, he plaieth Sy∣mon Magus, he will bie it, and with Iudas the other will sell it, and at lēgth it is got∣ten for gold, and spent with wickednes, to

the slaunder of the churche: God defend vs from soche rakers and Simoniakes. The second is sicke of the mother, and like vnto heires, when as the fathers haue left them faire landes, thei mourne of the chine, and are neuer contented but wimper & whine,* 1.136 vntill the mothers are ded, and when it so cometh to passe, their wicked couetousnes by one meanes or other, cometh to shame and pouertie. This honest man gapeth for a vouson of a benefice before it is fallen, & doeth catche it or it cometh to the ground, before the death of the discombent. He wil not suffer it to fal into relappe. This man is a steward to a greate man, or kepeth his hall, garden or barnes, or is a wiseman & a good husbande. Loke where his maister is patron, there he hopeth to be person. He ga¦thereth for his yong maisters, his patrons sonne: his patron must be his executour, or some of his masters kinsmen. This felow walloweth in benefices, as the Hedgehog doeth with apples vpon his prickes, & hath the benefite but of the apple in his mouth: he getteth nothing of his promocions, but onely one litle benefice, yet his master wil snatche at that, either to saue the wol or lā:* 1.137

And so he hath onely the shels or glorious tittes of promocion,* 1.138 but the geuer hath the swete kernels: God amēde this good wife. The third is, one whiche sheweth the state of learned men, labouring lōg time in stu∣die and diuine vertue, whiche are wrapped in pouertie, wanting the golden Rake, or gaping mouth.* 1.139 This man hath very fewe to preferre hym to that promocion, he smi∣teth himself vpō the breast,* 1.140 he wepeth and lamenteth, that vice should thus be exalted ignoraunce rewarded with glorie, couete∣ous men spoilyng the Churche by the na∣mes of Patrones and geuers,* 1.141 whiche are extorcioners and sellers, thei care not to whō, so that it be raked. Well, well, God of his mercie, amende this euill Market.

Vxor.

* 1.142Upon that wall is painted a mans skin, and tanned, coloured like vnto Leather, with the skin of the handes and feete, nai∣les and heere remainyng, and the skin is spred abrode, in the whiche is written cer∣tain wordes, whiche I doe not vnderstāde.

Ciuis.

Wife, I wishe more soche leather, or els fewer soche carcases, as soche leather hath

conteined in it. It is the Skin of a wicked Iudge, a Lawier, whiche plaied on bothe handes.* 1.143 This gētleman loued gold aboue God, and crueltie aboue Iustice: bothe his eares were stopped, his iyen open, he had respect of persones: specially who brought in lucre, and made hym humble curtesies, them he would defend, although their cau¦ses in righteousnesse deserued it not. The innocent he oppressed that wāted,* 1.144 and vn∣did many a mā. His maister being a great prince (in the whole multitude of the peo∣ple, and specially of the Lawiers, to certi∣fie them.* 1.145 And to decline from euill and doe good, to haue the eares open, to heare both riche and poore alike, in the seate of iudge¦mente, to haue lame handes in takyng of money, which is the roote of al euill emōg them.) Commaunded his Skin to be flain from his fleshe, he beyng yet liuyng, roa∣ryng with blood runnyng from his bodie, and died in a case moste miserable. Uppon whose Skin is this writyng, hangyng in the Iudgemente halle, before the place of Iustice.

Iudex qui non queret veritatem, debet excoriari. A Iudge whiche will (for lucre)

not seke out the truthe (in the lawe) ought to haue his Skin flaine from his bodie.

Vxor.

Here standeth a woman of moste excel∣lent forme in shape, and fairenes in beau∣tie, with a croune of riche gold, with seuen precious stones, fixed in the border of her croune, couered with a costely mantell frō her pappes dounward, her breastes naked the right brest geueth milke vnto y^e mouth of the yong child on the right side. And frō the left brest floweth blood, into the mouthe of an other child: what meaneth this?

Ciuis.

It is a goodly picture, and signifieth the e∣state of an vniuersitie, or multitude of scho¦lers, which cometh to be nourished in ler∣ning.* 1.146 Whiche mother the vniuersitie, be∣yng crouned with the seuen liberall artes, fixed in her croune: and as many as taste of her doctrine, in the better part in vertue, to this ende to doe well be blessed, thei do tast vpon the right breast, but the left breaste, yeldeth forthe doctrine of Errours, Magi∣ches, Papistrie. &c. To this ende to perse∣cute, robbe and spoile Christes Churche: God graunt that bothe these brestes maie

geue good milke,* 1.147 to nourishe the people of God, in one holy doctrin to eche vocaciō, to agrée in vnitee like brethrē, and that the v∣niuersitees maie teache the learned actes, & ••ne true religion in this Christ our lorde.

Vxor.

What is that picture, whiche graffeth a golden Impe, vpon a Leaden stocke, with a bagge of money of greate bignesse, han∣gyng aboute his necke?

Ciuis.

It should seme to be a pitifull case, it is a noble couetous Senior, whiche for goldes sake, doe make dispargiment of his blood, mariyng and sellyng his sonne and heire, vnto some Extorcioner, or shamelesse vsu∣rers doughter,* 1.148 whose fruites are so infec∣ted on the mothers side, that thei will be∣come as counterfecte, craftie compounded mettall, and neuer come to the true touch stone again. The fine mettal is so corrup∣ted through coueteousnesse and natural••e coniunccion, as we doe se graffes of trees, (fixe yong Impes) although the Impe bee of a fine Pippin, and graffed into an euill stocke. You shall knowe that fruite by the tree, a plague prepared for gentlemen, for

their abuse.

Vxor.

Upon that Table before you, is painted a naked manne, liyng doune wounded, v∣pon whom feedeth many Flies with fulle bealies, and there commeth an other man, whiche with a greene braunche of Rose∣marie, beate them awaie.

Ciuis.

* 1.149It should appere by the circumstaunce, that it is not hurtfull to keepe officers still in place: for when thei haue filled their pur¦ses, and haue all thinges accordinglie,* 1.150 thei are well, and if thei be remoued eftesones, the newe hongrie Flies will vere the bo∣die of the common wealth, and neuer cease vntill thei be also satisfied. &c.

Vxor.

Yet what is that man I praie you, that sit∣teth in a riche throne a slepe, and one dooe blowe in his care, with a paire of golden bellowes, and an other do picke his purse?

Ciuis.

* 1.151That same is a mightie person, ouercome with adulaciō or flatterie, carelesse, swim∣myng in pleasure and vainglorie, whom his men doe vse like an home Combe, and

daiely spoile hym of his riches, by sondrie fraudes, whiche he perceiueth not.

Vxor.

And what meaneth yonder Mule, hol∣ding his hedde so lowe: with a plain black foote clothe, shodde with golden shooes?

Ciuis.

Wife, silence now is beste: I will saie nothyng to the matter.* 1.152 The Mule carieth a Maister, that will dooe nothyng but for gold, and the fooles of the worlde, that loue debate and strief, must shooe this Mule.

Vxor.

Here is a rowe of pictures like Prelates painted one by an other in the border, in three partes. The first are barefooted men barehedded, long garmentes, and bookes in their handes, some of them are bloodie. The seconde companie are mitred, & shode with Shepherdes hookes in one hand, and bookes in the other hande.* 1.153 The third sort haue Sw••ordes in their handes, crouned with triple crounes, clothed in kyngly ro∣bes, with frounyng faces, and bookes vn∣der their feete: and nexte after them sitteth an olde mangie slaue naked, with a triple croune, makyng or patchyng of a Nette,

from whom goeth as it wer, menne laden with tounes, wooddes, and treasure.

Ciuis.

* 1.154Wife, this is the true Churche of God, and the malignaunte Sinagoge of Anti∣christ figured: first the true Preachers and martyres of Gods churche, simple menne, whiche folowed moste nerest the testamēt of Christe. After this persecucion, then en∣tred Confessours, good men, whiche liued welle, and accordyng to the Apostles doc∣trine: were good Shepherdes, withstoode the Wolues of heresies. &c. Kepte hospita∣litee, and liue accordynglie, and were as Lambes and good Wheate. Then for the sinnes of Princes, and wickednes of men, came in Wolues emong Lambes, Dar∣nell choked the Lordes fielde: oppressours of Princes, emptiers of Purgatorie, and ••illers of helle, raisers of debate, shedders of bloodde, makers of Martyres, menne of warre, destroiers of the true churche, erec∣tours of Idolles, vsurpers of kyngdomes, and treaders of Gods truthe vnder their vile secte:* 1.155 whiche secte kynges haue kissed soche is the pride of the Pope.

Then the Pope sitteth all naked woor∣kyng:

now through Gods woorde, Anti∣christ is reueled, and seen what he is, foule lothlie clothed in shamefull decrees, wic∣ked lawes and filthie life, and is despised of many nacions, saue of his owne children. Now patcheth his olde Bottelles, whiche will kepe no new wine: neither cā he well piece Christes pure clothe, and his ragged tradicions together.* 1.156 Neither will his Net pleasure the Churche, in whiche Nette he haue taken the seruauntes of Christ, shed their bloodde. He maie bee rather called a murderer, then a fisher, he neuer had sainct Peters Nette, since the Pope came to the churche of Rome: now clouteth he a nette, with his rotten Decrées, Counsailes, glo∣sing it with Gods worde. Like the Angell of darkenesse, transeformed into the simi∣litude of an angell of light: but his naked∣nesse is seen, for all his title of his holines, and riche Croune.* 1.157 Now as many as will not obeie his maistership, he geueth awaie their kingdomes, dukedomes, prouinces & gooddes, after the example of his patrone, not Peter, which forsoke worldly thinges, but rather sathā, whiche would haue giuē Christ moche riches, to haue honored him.

But the landes of Princes,* 1.158 are so heauie to be carried with his Portars: and also to hotte to be troden vpon, of any of his mes∣sengers, his Nette is verie good, to catche the greate Onele withall, and some of his lawlesse countree men, to store the Popes holie pondes at Rome.

Vxor.

I will aske but one or .ij. questions, & now our diner is redy, I praie you. What mea∣neth yonder Shepherd to clippe the Shepe so nere, that he bledeth: it is well painted.

Ciuis.

* 1.159It semeth a coueteous lande lorde, that doe so oppresse the tenaunt with fine, rent, bribe. &c. whereby he and his familie, doo•• liue in greate miserie like slaues, with cō∣tinuall penurie, and affliccion of mynde, and he will neuer suffer the woll to grow, to the full staple, at lēgth to his own decay

Vxor.

* 1.160What meaneth yonder foole that stand vpon the tree, and cutteth the arme a son∣der, whereupon he standeth, with a sharpe axe, and is fallyng doune?

Ciuis.

Under that predicament is cōprehended

all traitours against Princes: children a∣gainst parentes,* 1.161 seruauntes against Mai∣sters, poore against riche, tenaūtes against lordes. &c. Whereupon thei dooe liue, and haue their staie in this world, and wil sek•• their hurtes, whiche in deede is their own decaie, losse and destruccion in the ende.

Vxor.

Good God, what meaneth that bloodie naked picture, with a sharpe rodde in eche hande, woundyng his bodie, and spoiled of all his apparell.

Ciuis.

God sende peace in the christen realmes good dame. That dooe signifie by the cir∣cumstaunce of some old wise painter,* 1.162 that when the bodie or state of any Realme, or Realmes of vicinite or nerenesse together, being as handes to one bodie, or helpers to eche other. If thei bee at strief, the whole bodie, wherupon thei are deriued, shal eft∣sones through thesame bee ruinated and brought into perill. In this matter I will talke no furder as now: let vs go to diner a Gods name. Roger, what good felowe is here, to kepe me and your maistres cōpany

Vxor.

Houseband, in this fine border is curiously painted a house builded of stone, and with many strong doores and windowes, barre•• and railed with stronge yron barres.* 1.163 And before one of the doores standyng a man, with a yelowe cappe, in a plain poor coate with white sleues, and a little boie stādeth behinde hym with a faire goune in his ar∣mes,* 1.164 marchaunt like, in a fine blacke cap, and ouer the doore is written. Veritas non querir angulos. I knowe not the meaning.

Ciuis.

In déede truthe seketh no corners, as these euill disposed vile thieues doe, although it was ment to helpe some honest decaied ci∣tezens, that thei should not bee vtterly de∣stroied of pitelesse creditours, but after thei might rise vp again.* 1.165 Now the bākerote is induraunce, hath lost his credence, he is in prison, where as his credēce is spoiled and gone,* 1.166 no manne will truste him. But that inne hath a priuilege to increase many ge∣stes by this meanes. That thei maie haue libertie, with a little Applesquire to be his keper, whiche chaungeth his apparell and countenaunce, crepyng into corners, ma∣kyng bergaines in euery place, takyng vp

euery commoditie, refusing nothing, al is fishe that cometh to the net, he setteth hāde and Seale to euery thyng,* 1.167 he sweareth he would not loose his credence for thousan∣des, he geueth swete wordes, he knauish∣ly robbeth, vndoeth, spoileth, the widowe and the honest pitefull marchaunte or true citezen, and when he hath vndoen theim, he runneth to his place again, as the Foxe doeth to his hole, and liueth by the spoile.

Vxor.

What meaneth this straūge picture, here standeth a man double, or in .ij. twinnes, backe to backe, the one side is lustie, faire, riche and yong, and beautifull.* 1.168 The other side semeth sicke, ••oule, poore and old, in the yong mannes hand was a grashopper, and in the old mannes, an Ante without fete.

Ciuis.

In that table is liuely declared mankind, both the time of his youth in felicitée, with the careles grashopper, gathereth nothing but spoileth: house, lande. &c. in bankettes, dice, apparell and harlottes. &c. And when age commeth, he would bee thrustie, and then cā get no more, then the lame footeles ante. Then maketh he exclamaciō, saiyng

oh what gooddes did my father leaue me?* 1.169 What good counsaill my frēdes gaue me, but I estemed none of theim bothe, but in fine lost both riches and frendes. And now I am in greate pouertie, sickenes and age Lette other men take example by me, and remember the wisedome of Salomon, sai∣yng: Vade ad formicū ô pigar & considera vias eius, & disce sapientiam. &c. Goe thou idle bodie to the Ante, consider and marke well her waies,* 1.170 and learne wisedome, she hath no gide, prince, nor law geuer, but ga¦thereth in sōmer, to kepe her in winter. &c.

Vxor.

There is also painted a lustie yong man, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 doune to a vessell, in whiche swim¦meth bothe Eles and Snakes, he seemeth ••o catche one of them: what meaneth that?

Ciuis.

Ha, ha, ha, it is merily handled forsothe it is one that is ouercome, either with loue or coueteousnesse.* 1.171 He goeth a woyng, my dyng, dyng: and if he spedeth my darlyng, what getteth he my swetyng? Forsoth, ei∣ther a serpente, that will styng hym all his life with cruell wordes, or els swete harte with pleasaunt speach, that when he thin∣keth

her mooste sure,* 1.172 he hath but a quicke Ele, you knowe where. Ha, ha, ha.

Roger.

Sir, there is one lately come into this hall, in a grene Kendale cote, with yellow hose a bearde of thesame colour, onely vpon the vpper lippe▪ a russette hatte, with a greate plume of straunge Feathers, and a braue scarfe aboute his necke, in cut buskins.* 1.173 He is plaiyng at the trea trippe with our host sonne: he plaieth tricke vpon the gittarne, and daunce Trechmore, and Heie de Gie, and telleth newes frō Tera Florida. He lo∣keth a squinte, I did sée him geue the good man, a pece of a Unicornes horne, good a∣gainst poison: he semeth a pretie Scholer. But I heard him praie the chamberlain in his eare, to lende him .vj.d. vpon a pressing yron, whiche chāberlain refused the gage.

Ciuis.

Roger, call him into diner, it is some plea∣saunte felowe, and lacketh money belike, through trauaile,* 1.174 the poore man is driuen to his shiftes, and would make other men merie, when he wepeth in his harte.

Vxor.

Good housebande,* 1.175 cal in some graue com∣paignie.

What should soche Iackes and tossepottes doe here? He semeth to be some thief or ruffin. Fie on him varlet, fie, fie.

Roger.

By our ladie I will fetche hym into di∣ner: he is a good companion for me. Wee shall heare newes.* 1.176

Ciuis.

Go thy waies quicklie.

Roger.

* 1.177Sir, my maister and my maistres, praie pour maistershippe, to take the paines to come to their chamber: where as you shal∣be hartely welcome, to their diner.

Mendax.

Sir, I will waite vpon thē: but first I will vpon this Whetstone, sharpe my knife.

Roger.

Sir, here is this gentleman come: to kepe you compainie.

Ciuis.

He is moste hartely welcome, set hym a chaire, geue him a trencher and a napkin: I pray you take part of soche as God haue sent, if it were at London, I might make you better chere, but here I can not.

Mendax.

Here is good chere.* 1.178 I was there within these .x. weekes, that I would haue geuen x••. shillinges for soche a lofe as this: wher∣as no soche chere was to be had.

Ciuis.

Where was that, I praie you gentle Maister: I can not tell what to call you, nor of what countree you are?

Mendax.

Sir, I was borne nere vnto Tunbrige, where fine kniues are made, my name is Mendax, a yonger brother, linially descen¦ded of an auncient house,* 1.179 before the Con∣quest. We geue thrée Whetstones in Gu∣les, with no difference, and vpon our creste a lefte hande, with a horne vpon the thōbe and a knife in the hande. The supporters are a Foxe on the one side, and a Frier on the other side. And of late I trauailed into Terro Florida, wheras I felt bothe wealth and woe: the blacke Oxe neuer trode vpon my foote before, a Dogge haue but a daie.* 1.180 Wee are borne all to trauaile, and as for me I haue but little to lose: yet I am a gē∣tleman, and can not finde in my harte, to plaie the slaue, or goe to Carte. I neuer could abide it by the Masse.

Ciuis.

You speake like a wiseman, I perceiue by your behauor,* 1.181 you haue béen wel brought vp. I praie you where is that lande?

Mendax.

Many .c. miles beyonde Torryda Zona, or the Equinoctial line: In the longitude nere vnto the Pole Antartike.* 1.182 It is .xvij. M. miles longe, and is in the parte named America, and by the waie are the Islandes called Fortunata, or Canaria, whose West partes be situated in the third climate.

Ciuis.

It was a daungerous trauaile into that countrie: where landed you, at what place?

Mendax.

Wee sailed to the Islandes of Portum sanctū, and then to Medera, in whiche wer sondrie countrees and Islandes, as Eracte∣lentiae, Magnesortis, Grancamariae, Tene∣reffe, Palmae Ferro. &c. And our Capitain wēt with his soldiours to land, and at our first commyng nere vnto a riuer, in one of these Islandes: as wée refreshed our selues emong the Date trees, in the lande of Pal∣mes, by the sweete Welles, wee did to the great feare of vs all, se a great battaile be∣twene

the Dragon and the Unicorne,* 1.183 and as GOD would, the Unicorne thrust the Dragon to the harte: and againe the Dra∣gon with his taile, stonge the Unicorne to death. Here is a piece of his horne, the blood of dragōs is riche: that battail was worth twoo .C. markes to our capitain. Then we traueilled furder into Tenriffa, into an ex∣cedyng high mountaine, aboue the middle region: whereas we had greate plentie of Alom. And might well heare an heauenly Hermonie emong the starres,* 1.184 the Moone was nere hand vs with marueilous heat. And when we came doune at the hill foote, growe many grose herbes, as Lo••ege, La∣serpitium, Acanthus, and Solanum, & whe∣ther it was by the eatyng of Solanum be∣ries or no, there was a verie mightie man naked and hearie, in a greate slepe, whom we gētly suffred to lye still. He had a great ••earde, in whiche a birde did breede, and brought her yong ones meate.* 1.185 Our capi∣tai•• declared vnto vs, that the spialles had vewed the lād, and how that our enemies were at hande. The nexte daie moste fear∣full people, painted with sondrie colours, approched in straūge beastes skinnes, with

Flinte, so were their shaftes and Dartes, with whom we fought and slue, and tooke some: & yet the people so assaulted vs, that with moche difficultee, wee recouered our barkes. And then we sailed forthe, & chaūce to let fall our soundyng leade newe ••allo∣wed, wherevpon did slicke golde, with all spede wee sente doune our Deuers, and so within thrée daies we gathred thirtie hog∣sheddes of fiue golde: besides twoo buttes of orient Pearles, all the shore was full of Currall. Frō thens wee sailed to the great Isle,* 1.186 called Madagastat in Scorea, where wer kynges, Mahumitaines by religion, blacke as Deuilles: Some had no heddes, but ••yen in their breastes. Some when it rained, couered all the whole bodie with one foote. The lande did abounde in Ele∣phantes teethe: the men did eate Camiles and lions flesh. Muske and Zeuet in euery place did abounde: and the mother of perle the people made their platters, to putte in their meate, thei dwelle emong spice, the groūd is moist with oile of precious trees. Plentie of wine out of grapes as bigge as this loffe: moche Peper, thei can not telle what to do with suger: but that their mar∣chauntes

of Maabar, twentie daies iour∣ney of, doe come and take of their gooddes francklie for nothing, but some of them do bring iron, to make edge tooles, for which thei haue for one pounde, twelue pounde of fine golde. Their pottes, pannes, and al vessell is clene gold, garnished with Dia∣mondes. I did see swine feede in them.

Ciuis.

Did you see no straunge Foules there, and Fishes?

Mendax.

In the Isle called Ruc, in the greate Ca∣nes lande, I did see Mermaides and Saty∣res, with other fishes by night, come sower miles from the sea, and climed into trees, and did eate Dates and Nutmegges, with whom the Apes & the Babians had moche fightyng, yellyng and criyng.* 1.187 The people of that lande doe liue, by eatyng the fleshe of women. In this lande I did see an Ape plaie at ticke tacke, and after at Irishe on the tables, with one of that lande: and also a Parate, geue one of their gentle women a checke mate at Chesse.

Ciuis.

God kepe me from those cruell people.

Mendax.

* 1.188But sir, as for birdes thei are not onelie infinite in nōbers, but also in kindes: some voices moste sweete, and some moste fear∣full. Nightingales as bigge as Géese, ou∣les greater then some horse: and there are birdes that doe lye in a rocke, where Dra∣gons are, whose Fethers in their winges are thirtie foote long, the quill as bigge as a Canon roiall. Also I heard Parates des∣pute in Philosophie. Freshe in Greke.

Ciuis.

I praie you, is there any plentie of pre∣cious stones?

Mendax.

Uerie many, but harde to come by, but in the Island Zanzibar, is moche plentie of Ambergrise,* 1.189 that thei make claie for their houses withall, there if wée had holden to∣gether like frendes, we might haue gotten a great kingdome. Oh my hart, it maketh it blede, when I do remēber it: euery man is but for hymself, you maie consider what diuisiō is. Emeroddes, Rubbies, Turkes, Diamondes and Saphires,* 1.190 wer sold when we came thether first, for the weight of irō A.M. riche Turkesses wer solde for .iiij.d.

to bee shorte, one with an other after three shillynges and fower pence a pecke. Oure menne gathered vp Carbuncles and Dia∣mondes with rakes, vnder the spice trees.* 1.191

Ciuis.

How chaunce you broughte none home into this realme?

Mendax.

Oh sir, we filled .ij. ships with fine gold,* 1.192 iij. ships with Ambergrise, Muske and U∣nicornes hornes: and .ij. talle barkes with precious stones, and sailed by the Adamāt stones, whiche will drawe yron vnto them and so caste awaie the greateste riches in Heathenes or christendom. After that euel chaunce, wee came vpon the main lande of Cuba, in the great and mightie land of A∣merica, where as the people called the Ca∣nables, doe dwell in caues, rockes and woo∣des, there as women will eate their owne children, and one man an other, and thei ar Giauntes moste high and fearfull:* 1.193 all goe naked, thei neither knowe good humanitée humaine policie, religion, lawe, nor chasti∣tie. One is equall with an other, the stron∣gest of bodie are chief,* 1.194 for there all is ruled by force, and not through reason: after the

maner of swine. Childrē loue their fathers no more then pigges doe the boores, for thei saie, luste causeth generacion. And when their parentes are very old, thei bryng thē to an exceding high mountain, whereas is a great tower builded vpon a rocke, vnder which tower is the golden mine, in which mine there be ij. great monstruous dragōs keping thesame,* 1.195 whiche will neuer suffre the childrē to come to receiue the benefites of that place, vntill soche time as thei haue slain their parentes, and cast their flesh in∣to the caue, and washe the Dragons Ima∣ges, which are within that tower, made of precious wood, with the blood of their said parentes. From thence we traue••led into an Islande, where as it neuer raineth but ones a yere, & that is in the moneth of Iu∣ly, whereas Nylus runneth, by geuing be∣nefite vnto the plain coūtrie, wher as spice of all kindes doeth growe. In that Island doeth growe Hoppes moste plentifullie, whiche thei doe call Lupilū. A little before our commyng, was a great winde, whiche had shaken doune moche fruite and preci∣ous spice,* 1.196 and many hundred carte lodes of good Hoppes: after whiche fell doune plē∣tie

of rain, raising a mightie flood, inconti∣nent succeded a burning heate, for it is vn∣der the Equinoctial line, or Torrida Zona.* 1.197 In fine, through this concoction of the sun mouing this boiling of the water, through the helpe of moche Spice, I neuer dranke soche Hippocras, Wine, nor Beere. The Flemynges haue founde out the commo∣ditie,* 1.198 and caren to transport no more Hop∣pes hether vnto vs. And if good lucke had béen our good lord, we had made our selues and all the christian kingdomes for euer.

Ciuis.

Alas, alas, what was that I praie you tell me, I am sorie that you & your frendes haue traueled thus long, and haue been in daungier for nothing. But I perceiue you haue been a great traueler, and haue seen many Countrees, Woodes and Riuers.

Mendax.

Non finis erit si prosequar omnia verbis,* 1.199 Flumina & specos, cāpos siluas{que} lucus{que}▪ Colles apricos{que} siunos{que} vnde{que} portus.

Omnia sunt vidi. Now lette them goe, I haue séen those thinges and manymo. Sir in the landes beyond Cuba, or as the Cos∣mographars call Lamiam or Ianicā, where

as the people doe curse the Sunne at noone because it burneth them. There are many Islandes emong them. There is a fletyng Island,* 1.200 swimming aboue the sea, by what meanes I knowe not, whether occasioned by corcke, Wolle. &c. it would by the wind shift frō place to place. Some saied it was a shreed of the bankes of Paradise, broken through the forse of ganges, and so in con∣tinuaūce brought doune: it was not brode. In that Isle wer but fewe people, and the men of that place doe by proper arte, with a sharpe Flinte stone worme the women, and pretelie cutte their tongues,* 1.201 and take foorthe a small Serpente a liue, and heale their tongues againe with herbe Grace. This Island hath many riche stones, gold and spice in it, with precious trees, as A∣gallicum and Guiacum.* 1.202 In that Isle, there had been some Frenche men, whose skin∣nes were cleane caste of, in the maner of Snakes, Marie thei were full of hooles. This Guiacum did moche pleasure to thē belike. But as wee were deuisyng how to steale this lande awaie, and bryng it forth to the maine Sea with our Pilottes, twoo thinges letted our purpose.* 1.203 The one was,

the hauen mouth was to straight. The se∣conde, the people wer to vigillant, and let∣ted our purpose. But I truste, I and my compaigniōs will make one lustie voiage and geue an onsette for all: wée will either winne the saddle, or lose the horse. We are none but good fellowes, of my part I will doe what lieth in me, to make many pren∣tises free,* 1.204 and cause other good yong gen∣tlemen in sellyng their lande, to get thou∣sandes. If men knewe as moche as I dooe in this matter, thei had rather venter the beste iointe, then bee from thence, it is al∣moste heauen, and if wee doe wante by the waie, let euery man keepe close, and there wee maie chaunce to finde some little fle∣tyng Islandes by the waie,* 1.205 wherein good Sugar, spice, Silke, Linnen. &c. do growe, ready made, and that wil make ready mo∣ney: and money maketh a manne. Oh that young menne would beleue me, and fol∣lowe me, I would make them Lordes.

Vxor.

Good housebande bearken in your care, I would speake with you swete harte.

Ciuis.

Speake on youre mynde good Susan:

what is the matter woman?

Vxor.

Sir, this is a blinde iyed shameles ruffē, a roge, I warrante hym, and a thefe. This knaue is hable to make children run from their parentes, seruaūtes robbe their mai∣sters, yong heires to sell their landes, men to run from their wiues, and women also. You maie knowe by his Armes of what stocke he cometh,* 1.206 I warrant him frō drou∣ning, and diyng of the Pestilence. Oh vil∣laine, he wilbe hanged. I dare saie he kno∣weth al kindes of theues, vagabondes, ro∣uers & hasarders. I like not his words, nor his braggyng countenaunce, let vs hence.

Ciuis.

Well, moche good doe you, you haue ta∣ken moche paine, but smalle profite, you haue trauailed farre, and maie speake by aucthoritee. Come take awaie, paie the re∣conyng: Roger, horse, horse, and awaie.

Roger.

All thynges are readie sir.

Ciuis.

* 1.207Fare ye well gentle frende.

Mendax.

I thanke you of your gentle companie,

good gentleman.

Vxor.

Whose faire field is yōder,* 1.208 I would fain knowe it, and lette trifles passe, I will not beleue them: let foolishe thynges goe, and talke of matters profitable.

Roger.

Maistres, doe you not knowe it? it is my maisters, I am his baily ther: he had a good bargaine, I assure you, it was in morgage to him this ij. yeres, I would he might find the like purches: al yonder toune is his, he hath raised the rent one .C. markes a yere more then it was. There were good liyng in the plague tyme:* 1.209 for there are large pa∣stures, and the houses are doune, sauyng the maner place, for the carles haue forfei∣ted their leses, and are gon a begging like villaines, & many of thē ar ded for honger.

Vxor.

Whose Oxen are these, Roger.

Roger.

My maisters also, for he y^t hath mony shall haue lande & worship: my maister is a close wiseman,* 1.210 and lieth in the winde of thē that will buie money for lande: he can handle a yong gētleman trimly, and ride hym with

a golden snaffle,* 1.211 he knoweth vpon whiche side his breade is buttered well enough, I warraunt you, my maister rised so earelie this morning, that he noddeth as he rideth

Vxor.

Sir, me thinkes you totter as you ride, what are you a slepe? Dooe you not heare your mannes praiyng? He is pleasauntlie disposed, he would make me beleue, that you were a greate landed manne, and had moche cattell in store: why sir, how do you that you speake not to me?

Ciuis.

* 1.212Wife, wife, God sende vs good lucke, doe you not see yonder cloude in the West towardes the North, commyng hether?

Vxor.

Moste fearfull God sende vs good lucke sir, it is a sodaine chaunge, I will hide my face, it feareth me so moche.

Roger.

I am fourtie yeres olde, but I did neuer se the like, but ones, and that was betwen Godmichester and Gogmanshill, a little from Cambrige, as I traueiled to Wolpit fa••re,* 1.213 to buye Coltes, and there appered a straunge forme, as me thought, a greate

nomber of steples were broken: and many naked Friers, Bishops, and the Pope him self did wryng their handes,* 1.214 in ragged clo¦thes, thei looked all very leane: and then it thundred and lightened, in whiche storme many Geese wer killed, and also shepe and Lambes. The yere after was the tumble∣yng doune of Abbaies, and the reformaciō for the Churche matters: but this passeth, for the precious passion of Christ, let vs rū awaie with spede. I doe se a fearfull thyng in y^e cloudes appering, a blacke lene naked body, very long, ridyng vpō a pale misera∣ble foule iade,* 1.215 he hath also .iij. dartes in his lefte hande, the one is cole blacke, the other blood red, and the third is a darke pale, he hath no fleshe vpō him: me thinketh that I doe se a great fire, and many fearfull mon∣sters in thesame folow him, with a fearfull voice, saiyng: all the wicked shall come to vs. We ar swallowed in the second death.

Ciuis.

Let vs take this house, ride apace; the storme doeth begin most fearful, God help vs, what shall we doe, or whether shall we flie? Iesus, Iesus, what a thūder is this,* 1.216 as heauen & yearth should go together: Lorde

how the lightnyng falleth frō heauen, all this regiō is vpō a flaming fire, the birdes fall from the trées, loke how the cattel trē∣ble, and trées are pulled vp by the rootes, & the houses are burnt with celestiall fire.

Vxor.

Let vs depart from these trees, for I haue heard saie, to sitte vnder a white thorne, is moste safe and surest in a tempeste: I haue many goodly iuels againste lightnyng, as the Carbuncle,* 1.217 Hemoralde, Hiasinthus, with Amber and golde: God and S. Bar∣bara defende vs: I haue a S. Ihōs Gospel about my necke, and a paire of braselettes of Corall about myne armes, Oh God de∣fende vs: I am sorie that we came foorthe.

Roger.

Maister and Maistres, come into this vallie, and lette vs sitte in that same deepe close pitte, vnder the hill side, vntill this storme be past: saincte George to borrowe, mercifull God, who did euer se the like.

Ciuis.

* 1.218I thinke it be the daie of iudgement, the yearth doeth quake, the heauē doeth burn, and me thinke I doe see the fearfull horse∣man lighted in the valey, with a meruail∣lous

fearful saiyng: En 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vobis, mors vltima linia rearum. &c. Oh wher shal we hide vs from hym?* 1.219 He casteth forth his .iij. dartes, and taketh thē vp again. He is in a great rage: behold, how he destroieth man and beaste in this valey. This is come in a momente, who would haue thought it in the morning? none of vs, he draweth nere, I knowe him well, it is mercilesse Death most fearfull: I am afraied of his presence he bendeth his blacke darte against me, I haue no target to beare it of.

Vxor.

Good housebande,* 1.220 remember that I am yong, and with child, also you are wel stri∣ken in yeres: therefore plaie the man, and take Roger with you, and intreate hym, & if he will needes haue you, yet for Gods sake bee not acknowen that I am here, for feare that he kill me, and your childe also.

Ciuis.

Keepe you close vnder that Cloke, and stirre not I praie you.

Roger.

I can not abide hym, I will run awaie:* 1.221 for pouertie and death, will part good fel∣lowship, Sir, shift for your self, and drawe

your sworde against hym.

Ciuis.

* 1.222Alas, my wife in my trouble is to faint harted, and wil not kepe me companie, my seruaunt is run awaie from me, whether maie I slie from death? If I doe run, he is to swift for me, if I turne my backe, he wil cowardly kille me: if I doe submit my self to hym, he is mercilesse: I perhaps shall perswade hym with my golde, I haue an hundred poundes in Angels,* 1.223 I will geue it hym to saue my life: Oh he is here. Sir, moste humbly here vpō my knées, I desire your lordship to pardon me, and suffre me to liue still in this worlde, and here I offer vnto you this purse of gold, I shall alwa∣yes doe you seruice, and loue you with all my harte, and bee at your Lordships com∣maundemente, and to my power séeke to please you, as my good lorde and Maister.

Mors.

You are well ouertaken, I am glad that we are met together: I haue seen you sins that you were borne, I haue thretened you in all your sicknesses, but you did neuer see me,* 1.224 nor remēbred me before this daie, nei∣ther had I power to haue taken you with

me vntill now: For I haue commission to strike you with this blacke dart, called the pestilence,* 1.225 my maister hath so cōmaunded me: & as for golde, I take no thought for it, I loue it not, no treasure can kepe me back the twinklyng of an iye from you, you are my subiect, and I am your lorde: I will cut of your iourney, & separate your mariage, but not cut of your yeres, for thei ar deter∣mined when I should come:* 1.226 this is your a∣pointed time, and when the time shalbe a∣pointed me, I will smite your wife, childrē and seruauntes, thei shall not bee hidden from me, I will finde theim forthe, be thei hiddē neuer so secrete, or flee neuer so swift or far of, for I am so swifte, that in the mo∣mente of an iye, I can compasse the whole worlde, and am of so wonderfull a nature, that I can be in sondrie places at ones, and in sondrie shapes, in flames of fire,* 1.227 I often∣times doe cōsume mankinde, in the water I do kil thē, I am marueilous in worke: I spare nothing that hath life, but I bring to an ende, and to myne owne nature, whi∣che is death.

Ciuis.

Sir, I moste hūbly desire you to suffer me

to retourne home again into the citee, and let my goodes in order, to thuse of my wife and children, to paie my debtes, & then god¦ly to depart this worlde, I desire no more.

Mors.

I muste dispatche, and strike you with this blacke darte: I haue moche businesse to doe with the other twoo dartes.

Ciuis.

Oh fearfull Death: what is these two•• other dartes in thine hande?

Mors.

I will smite thee with this pestilent dart, as I haue doen to many kingdomes, citées and people, bothe man and beast, yong and old.* 1.228 With this pale dart, I will destroie in¦finite nombers with honger: thei shall pe∣rishe for lacke of foode, in destruccion of corne, cattell, wine, oile, fruit, herbe, grasse foule and fish.* 1.229 I will make them eate their owne fleshe, and make their own children to be soddē and rosted for them. With this thirde dart, I will in battaill slaie in nom∣ber, more then the Starres of heauen, and bathe my self in blood. I spare not one, nei∣ther Prince nor Peasant, against whom I doe cast this dart. I haue no respecte of any

persone, be thei neuer so noble, riche, strōg wise, learned, or cunning in Phisicke, thei shall neuer preuaill against me: but I will ouercome theim. I come into the Kynges chamber at the time appoincted, in force of Phisike, and cast my darte, that none shall se but fele. I often come into the counting house, and sodainly kille the money teller. I ouerthrowe the Daunser, and stoppe the breath of the singer, and trippe the runner in his race. I breake wedlockes, and make many widdowes.* 1.230 I doe sit in iudgemente with the Iudge, & vndoe the life of the pri∣soner: and at lēgth kill the Iudge also him self. I doe somone the greate Bishops, and cut thē through their rotchettes. I vtterlie blemishe the beautie of al Courtiers. And ende the miserie of the poore. I will neuer leaue vntill all fleshe be vtterly destoied, I am the greatest crosse and scourge of God.

Ciuis.

What is the cause, O fearfull Death, that thou doest scourge the face of y^e yearth with thy Dartes: and who hath sente thee for that purpose?

Mors.

Neither is the saiyng of the Philosophers,* 1.231

or Poetes true, whiche compt that I come by chaūce, to mortall thinges, or inquiring the cause of the matter, or Depriuatione in materia, or of generacion and corrupcion. And some other do affirme, that I do come through the cōcorse of the starres infecting the aire, & poisonyng liuing thinges. And therefore the Heathen in fearfull Tragi∣dies and stories, haue admonished the va∣in worlde to repent, by setting forth of me Death. Some of theim daily had the dedde heddes of their parentes broughte to their tables, to mortifie their vanitees withall. And al these men whom I haue slain, wer Heathen men. But I am the messenger of God, his scourge and crosse to all flesh good and bad: and am the ende of life, whiche do separate the bodie from the soule. I am no feigned thyng by the wise braines of the Philosophers: but onely through the diso∣bedience of your first parentes Adam and Eua,* 1.232 through whose fault all fleshe is cor∣rupted & subiecte to me Death: for through sinne came death. Truly my maisters an∣ger was so great in your parentes, that he suffered me to plague with my hande the beste in his churche, as Abell, Esaic, Iere∣mie,

Zacharie, Ihon Baptiste, and Iesus Christ his onely sonne, whiche suffred me, and seing that my maister hath commaun∣ded me not to spare his onelie childe, with his Apostles & holy Martires. Dooest thou think that I should beare with thée, or suf∣fer any in this wicked worlde? He sent me to Sodome with his Angels to burne thē. To droun bloodie Pharao. And to slea the kinges of the Heathen.* 1.233 Also I was at their endes, although al fleshe doth abhorre me. Yet Iudas and all desperate men, did call vpon me. Thus doe I ende bothe good and bad, but precious in the sight of the lorde is the death of his sainctes: and many bee the scourges of wicked men. I am in gods hā∣des, as the sworde is in the man of warres as it is written.* 1.234 The lorde doeth kil & quic¦ken again. And it is he that did create euil, that is pain or death, light and darkenesse. And whereas he hath not set his strōg an∣gell to bridle me, I am mercilesse, and will kill all where as the token is not set vp, or his marke vpon them whom he doeth for∣bid me to touch. And that is not vpon thee nor vpon many thousandes that liue most wretchedly. Thy daies ar but a span long,* 1.235

thou art like a flower in the field, thy daies are passed like a shadowe.* 1.236 Thou haste run thy race, and thy daies are consumed like smoke, and thou shalt scante liue to drawe thy breath. I must destroie this thy ye•• this mansion, I am so commaunded: haue here is thy rewarde, suffer it paciently, I muste goe presently to visite a gre••te nomber so∣dainlie, that doe not remember me. I will cutte them doune with my sithe like grasse and kill them with my three fearfull dar∣tes.* 1.237 The paines of helle doe followe me, to swallowe vp all fleshe, that dooeth not re∣pent them of their wickednesse.

Ciuis.

* 1.238Oh wretched man that I am, whether shall I ••••ie for succoure? Now my bodie is paste cure,* 1.239 no Phisike can preuaile, the so∣rowes of death doeth compasse me rounde about, the policie of the worlde with feare bad me flie and vse Gods meanes, as Lot did, whē Sodome was a fire. But now doe I se, who so escapeth honger and the sword shalbe ouertaken with the pestilence. I am at the pittes brinke, now begin I to waxe weake in bodie. I am verie drie, my paine dooeth increase, he is gone that did strike

me, but I doe fele his wound that he gaue me. Alas, woe is my vile stinkyng carkas, and filthie fleshe, conceiued and borne in sinne, depriued of originall iustice: compa∣red to a beaste in Adam, fallen as a rotten Aple from a liuing trée. What haue I got∣ten, my Lorde God by my fall, nothing els but onely darkenesse, care, miserie,* 1.240 afflic∣cion, sickenesse, paine, agues: and now in myne harte, Death moste painfull it self. Now for all my pompe, healthe, wealthe, riches and vaine pleasures of this worlde: this my bodie, whiche I haue bothe costl••e clothed, well fedde, and garnished with all delites, for whose sake I haue been coue∣tous, and sinned against Iesus Christe, to maintaine thesame bodie.* 1.241 From hēceforth therefore now shall I bee tourned into a stinkyng carrion, for wormes delite, dust, claie, rotten, moste vile, forsaken of al mē, poore, without substaunce: naked without clothing: sowen in dishonour, forgotten of my posteritee.* 1.242 Not knowen from hence∣forthe, vanishe like a shadowe, wither like a leafe, and fade as a flower. Oh vncertain life, but moste assured death fie on this fil∣thie shadowe of this worlde, and flattryng

of thesame, with all the instrumentes of the fleshe.* 1.243 Oh Lorde, although I be in this extreame trouble, yet haue mercie vppon me, according to thy greate mercie and lo∣uing kindnes. For I doe make my praier in the tyme of trouble: trustyng that thou wilt heare me.

Roger.

Maistres, the fearfull thing that talked with my Maister, is gone. Let vs go heare what newes with him?

Vxor.

I am glad it is past, thankes be to God, I will go with spede, to se my housebande, for he hath been in greate daunger.

Roger.

Sir, I am glad that he is gone, the deuill go with him: hath he taken all your gold?

Ciuis.

No, I haue my golde in store, for in the worlde I founde it, and in the worlde I muste leaue it, it is but vaine, and can not helpe in the time of this my trouble:* 1.244 God hath preuented me, and somoned me to ap∣pere before his seat. This death hath smit∣ten me, I must dye.

Vxor.

Alas my good swete housebande, what aileth you? Or what would you haue me doe for you, to helpe you in this case?

Ciuis.

Helpe me into some house, where as I might sende for some manne of God,* 1.245 to be my heauenlie Phisicion, teachyng me the waie to the kyngdome of Christe.

Roger.

Here is a house at hande, and here is your horse also: we will helpe you vp, and carrie you to this place.

Vxor.

Now sir, you be come here into this place, for gods sake discōfort not your self: I trust you shall doe well, you shall want nothing that maie be had for mony, gold and siluer,* 1.246 I will sende for your own brethren and si∣sters. You shall haue withal spede the best learned Phisicians in this Realme, in the meane tyme drinke Dragon water, & Mi∣thridatū mingled togither, to put this pas∣siō from your hart. Ride Roger and seke a Phisician with al spede, spare not the horse

Ciuis.

Soft sirra, and speake with me, and doe what that I dooe commaunde you, in the

name of Iesus Christ.

Roger.

Sir, looke what your maistership shall commaunde me to dooe: that will I dooe with all spede, and tary not.

Ciuis.

Go thy waies, and praie moister Theo∣logus to come to me, that I maie haue his counsaille, praie him to come with speede, deliuer him this token.

Roger.

I shall, in the meane tyme good maister be of good cheare, for Gods sake.

Vxor.

Alas what shall I doe, & my poore childrē.

Ciuis.

I haue set my worldly thinges in order, for so hath Gods worde taught me to do,* 1.247 I thanke God, and my debtes shalbe truelie paied: and whatsoeuer any poor man doeth owe me I, do forgeue them: and restituciō shall I make with all spede, to as many as I haue wronged. And I shall leaue plentie to you and my children, requiryng you to liue according to Gods commaundement obeiyng him all y^e daies of your liues,* 1.248 and remember death, and to doe to all men, as

you would be doen vnto. To liue chast, ei∣ther in Mariage, or a life sole: vse praier,* 1.249 & chast your bodies with abstinence. Bee pi∣tifully minded, & hate vice: beware of wic∣ked companie, loue well the temple of god visite the prisoners and helpelesse, this is good Religion in the iyes of God. As nere as you can kéepe the commaūdementes of the almightie God, and beware of idlenes and pride of harte, lamente no more good wife. For who can kepe that must nedes a waie? me thinke I heare Theologus come.

Theologus.

Sir, God the heauenlie Phisicion blesse you,* 1.250 and geue you the perfite consolacion of conscience in Christ his sonne, and geue you grace mekelie to beare this his crosse.

Ciuis.

You are hartely welcome deare Theo∣logus, I haue thoughte it long, since I did sende for you.

Theologus.

Your man declared to me by the waie, a pitifull storie, which happened to you this daie. Furder, I had soner been with you, but one maister Antonius sent for me, but or I came he was dedde:* 1.251 and Auarus and

Ambodexter is in his house, preparyng a solemne funerall for hym.

Ciuis.

Oh sir, then I haue no cause to reherase the matter new again, but seing my fleshe is nere the pit, and in a maner my breathe faileth me, beyng woūded with death, and that I am of twoo partes, bodie and soule, the one paste all cure, the other in hope of saluacion, I desire, if it please God, that I maie liue to thende of your oracions. De∣clare vnto me, what is the cause of sinne?

Theologus.

The Deuill was the first cause of sinne, as it is written in Genesis,* 1.252 how with a lie he deceiued the woman, and thei that com¦mitte sinne, are of the Deuill, for he hath sinned from the beginnyng of the worlde, and is the firste aucthour of sinne. The se∣conde cause was manne,* 1.253 declinyng from God, and credityng the Deuill, by whiche man, sinne entred into the worlde, and all the calamities and crosses therein, as so∣rowe, dread, feare, pouertie, sickenesse and death it self, all to punishe sinne.

Ciuis.

Oh lord, how I haue erred, I had thought

God had been the cause. As when I rede these woordes. Indurabo cor Pharaonis, I will indurate y^e hart of Pharao, with soche like places: & his induracion was the cause of his sinne, and who did indurate him but God? And when it is said, ne nos inducas ī tentationem, neither lede vs into tempta∣cion. &c. Here I gathered, it was God that led vs into temptacion, for which cause, we desire him not to lede vs into tēptacion. &c.

Theologus.

You haue mistaken those places, for God is not the aucthour or cause of sinne, for he did so moch abhorre thesame, that nothing could pacifie his wrathe vnder heauen, no merite or woorke, but onelie the blood of Iesus Christ his sonne.* 1.254 And for this word I will indurate, the verie worde in Ebrue is: I will suffer Pharaos harte to bee har∣dened. And so it was in the Lordes praier, it is Ne sinas nos induci, neither suffer vs to be led or fall into temptacion. &c. Ther∣fore my brother, it was the will of Sathan and man, that caused sinne.

Ciuis.

Why,* 1.255 hath not manne will to doe good again, if he luste?

Theologus.

No, if he had the eleccion to will, as first he had, he would doe the like: therfore it is in a sure hande, euen in Gods, and not in ours.* 1.256 As when men doe speake the truthe, it is not of their owne will or power, but the heauenlie spirite in them, & by almigh∣tie God, are al the steppes of men directed: though man fall into sondrie temptacions he shall not be cast of, for the lorde putteth vnder his hande,* 1.257 whiche is a greate com∣fort to vs in trouble, when we are vnder∣neth the crosse. Without him we can dooe nothing that is good. No man can take a∣ny good thing vpon him,* 1.258 except it bee geuē to him from heauen: and no man dere bro∣ther, can come to the sonne of God, vnlesse the father hath drawen him, & not his wil, whiche is moste wicked frō his youth vp∣warde, as appereth in our vile nature, thought, woorde, & deede. And who so euer hath not the spirit of Christ,* 1.259 is not of Christ but those, which are led of the spirit of god are the soonnes of God: and this commeth not by mannes will and power. For, the worldlie minded man, dooeth not vnder∣stande or perceiue those thinges, that are of

Gods spirit, without whiche he can not be saued, bee he neuer so learned, and can dis∣pute of the soule: makyng distinctions of knowlege and iudgemente,* 1.260 callyng it the minde, or intelleccion, or reason, or desire, whiche is the will, vnder whom the affec∣cion is gouerned, whose spring is the hart. All these make not to the heauēly purpose but rather stāding vpon soche trif••es, doth hinder the waie to saluacion in Christ: and robbe him of his passion, when we doe at∣tribute fredome or frewille,* 1.261 to come of our selues, but that we are in Gods handes, as his instrumentes, through him to woorke soche thinges, as best maie please him, and he withdrawe his holie handes, we can do no good: therfore submit your self to Christ and his wille, for oure willes are mali∣gnaunt, and dampnable in his iyes. For∣sake your praue will, and humbly submit your self to Iesus Christ, saiyng: now be∣fore our death.* 1.262 Our Father whiche art in heauen, hallowed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 name, thy kyng∣dome come. Thy will bee dooen in yearth as it is in heauen. &c. And thus I doe con∣clude of free will in vs, and faithfully looke for the reward, not of workes, but of mer∣cie

onelie: onelie purchaced by the Sacri∣fice of Christe,* 1.263 thankyng hym that he hath made you mercifulle to youre brethren in this worlde, whiche was the fruictes of faithe, by whiche faith in his blood we are saued, and shall receiue our almose or re∣warde, and not our duetie: for wee are vn∣profitable, when we haue doen our beste.

Ciuis.

What rewarde is that, I praie you? Or what promises are graunted by Christ?

Theologus.

The reward is the remission of sinnes, and life euerlastyng, graūted by the father for Iesus Christes sake,* 1.264 frelie without our woorkes, for there is none other saluacion vnder heauen geuen to menne, but onelie Christ. In him we doe merite: as whē wee are mercifull, wee haue a promise of this presēt life, and the life to come. And in this worlde also an .c. fold:* 1.265 and in the worlde to come euerlastyng life. And who that ge∣ueth one of these little ones, a cup of water for my names sake, shall not lose his re∣warde. And he commaunded to geue, pro∣mising it shalbe geuē to them again. And further he saieth: breake the breade to the

poore, and it shalbe to thee like a gardein. He saith not, let thin executors or assignes geue the poore when thou arte dedde, but thou muste dooe it thy self in this worlde:* 1.266 Now while it is lighte, for the night is at hand, I meane death, when thou canst not worke. Remember Diues lost the tyme, & could not call it backe again, whiche wai∣leth in hell, hath no reward, for he trusted not God, nor rewarded any man. Furder, recōcile thy self to thy brother, for els thou canst not please God, though thou wrough test all good woorkes, and gaue thy bodie to bée burned:* 1.267 for charitee is so precious in Gods iyen, that who so wante it, can not reigne with Christ. Therefore forgeue frō thy hart, and thou shalbe forgeuen. Make not thy will vpon goodes gotten by vsury, nor by any thing that falsly in bargening, thou hast taken from thy brother,* 1.268 for then thou shalte not dwell in Gods tabernacle. Neither shal thy children prospere vpō the yearth, but God will hate them to the .iij. & iiij. generacion for thy sinne:* 1.269 examen well thy conscience, death hath wounded thee, whiche is common to al fleshe: in thus do∣yng, thou shalt passe from death to euerla∣styng

life by Christe, and neuer taste vpon the seconde death, emong the impious or castawaies: Contesse thy sinnes from thy harte, aske mercie, be thei neuer so red, and many in nomber,* 1.270 Iesus hath washed thē in his blood, and sprinkled them with Hy∣sop, and made thē as white as snowe: now plaie the man in Christ, feare not to depart this world. Christ is gone before with his holie Apostles, Prophetes, Martyres, Cō∣fessours and Uirgines, penitente thieues and harlottes also, there is the armie of an∣gels before his throne, with ioye incessan∣tlie honouryng hym. Hell gates are spar∣red, sathan beaten doune, thy ••innes rased, the good Angell at hande to conducte thee to that blessed lande of rest:* 1.271 here is nothing but labour, daies of care, sinne, wretched∣nesse, a thousande crosses, the snares of the deuill, and many vanitees, the fleshe moste inconstaunte, the worlde a place of miserie and sinne, bid it farewell, taking thy leaue with the badge of a christen man, of Christ crucified:* 1.272 remember that promise made in thy Baptisme, arme thy self with the brest plate of faithe, continewe to the ende, and thou shalt receiue a croun of life, thy crosse

taken awaie: cast thy hole care vpō Christ,* 1.273 and he shall deliuer thee at hand, and geue thee, the holie resurreccion of bodie & soule to dwell in one for euer with hym.

Ciuis.

Oh what comforte in conscience I haue receiued:* 1.274 first I render thankes to God the father, the sonne, and the holie ghost: secōd∣ly, blessed be the hower of your commyng hether, in this tyme of my trouble, with this holie consolacion in Christe, in whom I dooe beleue, renounsing the worlde, the fleshe and the deuill, beleuing all the arti∣cles of my Christen faithe, acknowleging the blessed Sacramentes to bée the instru∣mētes to euerlasting life and saluacion in Christ,* 1.275 by the whiche God doeth worke in his Churche to the worldes ende, to theim that shalbe saued: one Trinitee,* 1.276 and three distinct persones coequall in vnitee, in one essence & being is my God: the father crea∣ted: ne, the sonne redemed me, and the holy ghost sanctified me, and inspired me, wher by I knowe that I am his elected, and one vndefiled mother the Churche, hath thus taught me, in that blessed booke of Patri∣arkes, Prophetes, Martyres,* 1.277 and Iesus

with his Apostles, whiche is Gods worke: now master Theologus, my time is at hād I praie you saie some thing of the resurrec¦cion, and then lette vs praie in the name of God together, that it maie please hym, to forgeue me my sinnes, whiche I haue cō∣mitted againste heauen and yearth, and to receiue my soule into his blessed handes.

Theologus.

Good brother, not onely the doctrine of Prophetes and the Euangelistes, doe pro∣mise the Resurreccion to come, of some to saluacion, and some to damnacion, but the same resurreccion is moste manifeste.* 1.278 As for example: Christ himself and other, did rise, and wer seen to many in Hierusalem: and by the space of .xl. daies, he taught the Apostles, and was conuersaunt with thē: and then ascēded into glory, vntill the time appoincted to iudge the quicke and the ded when he shall sende his angelles to gather all fleshe vnder heauen,* 1.279 from the .iiij. win∣des, and sitte doune in iudgement, saiyng: come to me you blessed of the father, and receiue the kingdome prepared for you frō the beginning. Furder he saith, this is the will of my father, which hath sent me, that

all that doe see the soonne, and beleueth in him, shall haue euerlasting life, and I will raise him in the laste daie: and the holy A∣postle saincte Paule moste heauenly doeth preache the resuraeccion to the Corinthiās Thy dedde shall liue, saieth Esaie,* 1.280 and thy slain shall rise again: and those which slepe in the duste shall rise:* 1.281 the yearth shall caste forthe their dedde bodies: I will creat both heauen and yearth newe, saieth the Lorde, and put the old out of my remembraunce: many saieth Daniel, that lie a sléepe in the dust, shalbe wakened again, some to life e∣uerlasting, and other to reprobacion. God saieth,* 1.282 I will open their tombes and bring them forthe: and the holy man Iob saith:* 1.283 I knowe that my redeamer liueth, and that in the laste daie, he shall raise me againe out of the yearth, and shalbe clothed again with my Skin, and in my fleshe I shall see God, whō I shall see with these same iyes, and with none other. These are comforta∣ble, and moste true places of holy scripture for the resurreccion of the dead, you are as∣sured in cōsciēce of this blessed resurrecciō, & life euerlasting in Christ Iesus our lord.

Ciuis.

Yea forsothe deare Theologus, but my speache is almoste paste, yet I thanke God I knowe you all, and I beseche hym to blesse you: and when my spirite is gone, I praie you burie my bodie with comelines, not with pompe, and vse it as an instru∣ment, wherin the soule hath dwelled, and whiche the soule shall posses againe in ho∣nour, in that blessed resurreccion.

Theologus.

Lette vs moste humblie here vpon our knees, with our hādes lifted vp towardes the heauen: desire God the father for Chri∣stes sake, to receiue your soule into his glorious kyngdome.

* 1.284O dere citezen reioyce and be glad, that thy labour is almoste past: rest is at hande, feare not the paine of death. For it is im∣possible to escape that, whiche can not bee fledde, or auoided. For it is written, who is that man that liueth, and shall not see death: none, no not one, therefore, suffer it my sweete harte pacientlie, and that is an argumēt of good ronscience, and of an hea∣uenlie mynde. Your wife mourneth im∣moderatly, oh God: all fleshe was borne to die.* 1.285 This happened to our parētes, as fa∣ther,

mother. &c. And shall not faile to all that shall folowe, vnto thende of the world or comming of Christ. For surelie sweete life, was neuer without the excepcion of bitter death, it is no noueltie, therfore whē we doe heare tel, of the departure of any of our frendes: let vs not fall into a sodaine passion, as onely the high priest did, which hearyng of the death of his children, felle doune and brake his necke.* 1.286 But rather cō∣stauntlie with wise Anaxagoras, whiche hearing of the death of his beloued sonne, saied to the messenger: this is no newe ti∣dynges, nor straunge to me, as sone as he was borne, I knewe that he should die: for of natures lawe is learned, life to be taken and resigned, & no man dye, but he whiche haue liued. Oh leaue your lamenting good maistres, why rage you like one, whiche haue no hope. Be absent, or vse moderaciō remember holie Iob,* 1.287 thesame daies when the Lorde permitted Sathan, not onelie to destroie his seruauntes and cattell, but al∣so before age, in the lustie tyme of youthe, in the feast daie, at one table, his dere chil∣dren of his bodie, were all broken in peces and slain, with the violent fal of the hous.

What did he, rende his heere or fleshe, no, no: he considered who sent them, and who did take theim, euen the Lorde, whom he moste obedientlie suffred, and reuerentlie thanked. Furder good sister, remember. S Hieromie, taking GOD to witnesse of an holie woman, whose housebande was ded▪ whom he moste tenderlie loued:* 1.288 by whom she had but twoo sonnes of singuler beau∣tee, wanting no gift of grace or of nature, whiche bothe died the same daie, wherein their father departed. When this Crosse was, saith. s. Hierom, who would not haue thought that she would haue fallen madd, in rending her heere, breastes, clothes and skin, running vp and doune, wailing and criyng, with pitefull wringing of handes. What did she? Firste, she weeped not one teare: but moste soberly, with a womanlie countenaunce, she humblie kneeled vpon her knees, holdyng vp her handes, rende∣ryng thankes, and makyng praiers to al∣mightie GOD, saiyng: moste humblie I thanke thee good lord, for that that it haue pleased thee, to take me into thy seruice, I am sped, oh lorde, for thou haste discharged me.* 1.289 &c. Take also for an example, the most

worthie constauncie,* 1.290 of that paciente wo∣man, whiche without moche lamentaciō, did with her own iyen, behold her dere chil¦dren slain, their members cut in peces, and boiled in caldrens. Marke how constantlie of late yeres, childrē did se the flesh of their fathers, mothers. &c. burn in the fire moste pacientlie sufferyng. And againe, fathers beholding their childrē doe the like. What did thei r••re like Lions. &c. No, no, but re∣ioysed, that God had of their blood & stocke erected a people, to reigne with him in life, which witnessed him in death. The exam∣ples should moue al christians, perfit mor∣tificacion is not moche, to lamente for our friendes diyng:* 1.291 but rather by the example of their deathes, to remēber our ende, and then we shall not sinne. Therefore, better it is to go to the house of mournyng, then to the house of banquettyng. And when it shall please God to call your housebande awaie, and the daies of forgetfulnesse shall approch, as euery thing vnder heauē haue the time, bothe of mourning and reioysing When you doe behold your self in a glasse remember your face shalbe leane and pale your nose rotten,* 1.292 your teeth stinkyng and

blacke, your iyen dimme and blinde, your eares deafe and running, your heeres fal∣len awaie, your veines brokē, your senues relaxed and wasted, bones corrupted, bo∣wels full of roomes, and all your fleshe cō∣sumed.* 1.293 Behold, beholde, you damos••ls of vanitees and lustie youthe, the pleasure of this worlde howe it endeth, with stincke, filth &c. not reserued after death to any good purpose: as timber when it is cutte doune, but because it is so vile, and will infecte the aire. The corps is inclosed in a pit, as wee daily se, where as it consumeth, as I haue said. Remember this, be not proude of no∣ble parētage, of riches, beautie or cunning but rather consider wher are the old lustie kinges,* 1.294 queenes, lordes, knightes, ladies: where are the old courtiers and valiaunte men of warre? where are the Maiors of ci∣ties, lawiers, bisshops, Phisicions? where are all the pleasaunt Musicians? wher are become the old cōmons in euery kingdom wher is become the Popes rotten holines, with all the infernall malignāt sinagoge of antichrist. &c. al are gone and passed like shadowes, wasted and come to nothing, as S. Augustine affirmeth.* 1.295 Oh man saith he

goe to the chanell house or graues,* 1.296 take vp the bones, marke well if thou canst know the maister from the seruaunte, the faire from the foule, the riche from the poor, the wise from the foole. &c. thou canst not do it, it is impossible to know thē. Well world: well. What dooest thou promise vnto all them which doe loue thee, perhaps moche riches or dignitee.* 1.297 How noisome to y^e soule is riches, the verie minister of, or to all, ci∣uill rule and mischief, as damnable vsury, adulterie, treason, murder, it maketh one proude, high minded, and forgetful of him self. It deludeth hym with flatterers, and curtises of Hypocrisie, it is the mother of vainglorie, and nourisher of pride and idle life, and lothlie glotonie.* 1.298 It is remembred by our maister Iesus Christe, whiche cal∣leth it thornes: and by his Apostles, which nameth it the roote of all ill. It is the mai∣ster of some riche men and women, which kepeth it to their greate hurt. And the foo∣lishe prodigall waster, whiche commonlie succedeth the gatherer, spendeth it sone a∣waie in wickednes, as it is saied: easie got¦ten goodes are sone spent. Therefore suf∣ficient or a meane, is well to a christen mā

(for sondrie causes.) For thei that will be•• riche, fall into sondrie temptacions, cares, broken sléepes: he gapeth and looketh for moche, & spendeth little, he can not be me∣rie (for feare of losse.* 1.299) The more he getteth he is neuer satified, that is a couetous man but still desireth & neuer pacified, like vnto the drie man in a hotte burning feuer. Ri∣ches hath poisoned the churche, and trans∣formed the clergie: specially in Roome e∣mong the Popes, and many greate men, whose auncitours did kepe plentifull hou∣ses of the one halfe. Whiche now is come to passe, that now a daies in keping hospi∣talite, or ministring of charite, but breaks vp houses, and hurt many poore, euen for the loue of one glotton, himself which wil not well spend it,* 1.300 nor for his childrē which can not well vse riches. For we do se how God doeth plague the séede of extorcioners vile vsurers. &c. What if thei had moun∣taines of gold, so increased dolour of mind and death stealeth on all fleshe like a theif, and smiteth the money louer, the vsurer, the oppressour, the golden watcheman, the greate officer, marchaunt, the wise gentle¦man, that hath purchased so moche. What

is thende of this gere, a dedde carkesse, and scant a good winding shete, out of the dore he must to graue, he shall fare well Gloria mundi, and welcome silie wormes. I praie God that this tourneth not to damnacion. Oh what is become of riche Senior Anto∣nius Treasurers, Capax, Rapax, Tenax, Ambodexter (ill gotten goodes are worse spent.) Sower swetenes, and slipping Ise, the golden intangled hoke, and the drinke of Midas hath vtterly destroied him, and or euer he was aware, death hath slain hym. He loued so well this world,* 1.301 and life in the same: that if his Phisicion might haue sa∣ued his life, he would haue loste one of his handes, and suffred his fleshe to haue béen cut with some broken bones, with the cō∣tinuaunce of paine, ache and griefe, with dreadfull slepes. And when he did se no re∣medie, the terrour of conscience tormented him, vexed him, and ouercame him, made him rage and curse the time of his birthe, his life was so horrible in the iyes of God and manne, whose iudgement I doe com∣mende to God, but surelie greate plagues doe remain for the vngodlie. Therfore let vs be conuerted, and turne clene from our

sinnes and wickednesse,* 1.302 and so there shall no sinne do vs harme. Let vs fast and praie hate euill, and cleane to good: make resti∣tucion, forgeue our enemies, abhorre vice, and be sorie that we can not be sorier. Re∣member our accomptes, and come bee ty∣mes vnto the Lorde, make no tariyng to turne vnto the Lorde: put not of from daie to diae.* 1.303 For sodainly shall his wrath come and in time of vengeaunce shall he destroy vs, and except we doe all repente, we shall perishe saieth Christ. Let vs repent there∣fore, and turne vnto god, that he maie for∣geue vs, that our sinnes maie bee dooen a∣waie: that we maie saie. From plague, pe∣stilēce and famine, from battaill and mur∣der, and from sodain death, oh lorde deliuer vs. From hardnes of harte, and contempt of thy worde and cōmaundement: whiche is the greatest cause of the wrathe and in∣dignacion, oh good Lorde deliuer thy peo∣ple, for thy holy names sake. Amen. Amē.

* 1.304Almightie and moste dere father of hea∣uen, we moste humbly beseche thee for Ie∣sus sake, haue mercie vppon this thy ser∣uaunte, whiche now is nailed to the pain∣full crosse of death, for Adams offence: im∣pute

no sinne vnto this penitente,* 1.305 whiche moste willyng hath submitted hymself to thy fatherly correcciō: but behold thy sōne on the right hand, the onely mediatour for al the elected, whose names are written in the booke of life. Let this thy seruaunt, we beseche thee most mightie God, haue clene remission and forgeuenes of all his sinne, by thought, worde and deede, committed againste thy diuine Maiestie:* 1.306 now in this perille of death, assiste hym with thy holie aungell, commaunde Sathan to departe, make cleane his conscience, with a gladde mynde to reioyce onelie in thy mercie, for vaine is the helpe of man, but thy mercie doeth endure for euer: wee are thy people, and the Shepe of thy pasture, to thee wee shall geue praise for euer and euer. Amen.

Ciuis.

Amen. Amen: Lorde receiue my soule into thy handes: thou God of truthe.* 1.307

Theologus.

THe mightie God of Angels, and the former of al thinges, visible and in∣uisible: in whose hādes is onely life and death, light and darkenes,* 1.308 and all the mociōs of the soule and bodie, without the

moste mightie God, all thynges had been nothyng, and of nothyng all thynges are made by thee:* 1.309 without thy Christ, and thy blessed spirit, whiche is one coeternall tri∣nitée, all fleshe were accursed, all conscien∣ces molested, and all soules vtterlie damp∣ned. From light into darkenesse, from fre∣dome into euerlasting reprobacion: but by Iesus Christ thine onely sonne, we thank thee dere father of all mercie, that now it hath pleased thee, to take to thy mercie at this present time our brother, whom thou haste elected, consecrated, and now he shall by thy mercie and pitee bee sanctified vnto thee,* 1.310 to be a citezen of eternall glorie, now dode fleshe and bloode forsake him, and all his worldlie strength faileth hym. Now is the Orgaines yeldyng vp, the heauenlie sounde, his soule cometh now vnto thee, good Lorde receiue it to thy mercie, into thine euerlastyng glorie: where as Abra∣ham, Isaac, and Iacob, are continuallie, to thee, oh heauenlie father, be in∣cessaunt honour and glo∣rie. AMEN.

¶The ende of the Dialogue.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Psalm. xv.
• * 1.2

  A constaunte manne by his gesture.
• * 1.3

  A blacke sanctus.
• * 1.4

  A craftie villaine.
• * 1.5

  Pettie Fog∣gers, sitte for the Pillerie.
• * 1.6

  Honeste felo∣wes.
• * 1.7

  Gloses.
• * 1.8

  A good com∣paignie.
• * 1.9

  A dreadfull case.
• * 1.10

  A troubled conscience.
• * 1.11

  A great losse.
• * 1.12

  Aristo. de c••l•• & mundo.
• * 1.13

  The fower Elementes.
• * 1.14

  Mixed bo∣dies.
• * 1.15

  God.
• * 1.16

  The three partes of the soule.
• * 1.17

  Example.
• * 1.18

  Temperance
• * 1.19

  Aduersitee.
• * 1.20

  Prudence.
• * 1.21

  Profite.
• * 1.22

  Pleasure.
• * 1.23

  Uertue.
• * 1.24

  First elecciō, then operaciō
• * 1.25

  Pestilence.
• * 1.26

  The cause of the pestilence
• * 1.27

  Hypocrates de flatibus.
• * 1.28

  Gale•••••• libri. i. De differen••••••••▪ Feb. Cap. v.
• * 1.29

  A••tius de reme∣dica. libri. v. Paulus libri. ii.
• * 1.30

  ••afis •• li. de pest. Gal••. libri. i. De diffe••••••••▪ ca. iiii.
• * 1.31

  Hyp. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. xix.
• * 1.32

  Causes and signes of Pe∣stilence.
• * 1.33

  Ruff. ••uict•• Fate∣tur. Actiu••. Cap. xcv. ••ibr. v. viii. Paulus Libri. Cap. xxxv.
• * 1.34

  Primatime. Antece lent. Coniuncte. Causes of the Pestilence.
• * 1.35

  Good aire, Gale. de ter. i. ad Pi••o. Cap. xvi. Ptul. li. ca. xxxvi Auicen de pre∣ser. a peste. f••u. ii tract. iiii. Rasis ad almon. libr. de pest. Cap. ii.
• * 1.36

  Trouble of monde or feare.
• * 1.37

  A goodly rule againste the Plague.
• * 1.38

  Note also y^e Clisters are good, before the openyng of veines.
• * 1.39

  Libri Epid. Sect. ••i. Apho. iiii.
• * 1.40

  Consider twoo speci∣ciall thinges.
• * 1.41

  Auicen. C••rati. f••bri Pesti. ••i.iiii. ••en. i. tract. iiii.
• * 1.42

  Leo. Actus de med ••d. mor. Lib••i. iiii.
• * 1.43

  Example.
• * 1.44

  Who maie not be let∣ten blood.
• * 1.45

  Quantitee of blood letten.
• * 1.46

  Ruff. contra pest. Auicen. libri. iiii. Fen. i. tract. iiii. Paul. Libri. ii. Cap. xxxvi.
• * 1.47

  Galenus libri. ix. de simplic.
• * 1.48

  Fuch. de mede. morbis. libri. iiii.
• * 1.49

  Auicen. libr. iiii. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 i. tract. iiii. Ras.
• * 1.50

  Good obser∣uacions.
• * 1.51

  The beste remedie, the worst meane.
• * 1.52

  Fuch. libri. iiii. de mo••b. Elect••∣arii de nucibi••.
• * 1.53

  Carbo & Anthrax are one.
• * 1.54

  Signes of the plague.
• * 1.55

  Where the plague sore is placed.
• * 1.56

  Gal. ••ttribu•••••• alter ••in ••midi••. To knowe the Anthrax from the Cancer.
• * 1.57

  A cauiate for the Chyrurgian.
• * 1.58

  Note this well.
• * 1.59

  To washe the place.
• * 1.60

  A good me∣dicen for the sore.
• * 1.61

  A good medi∣cene to ripe.
• * 1.62

  For the roo∣tes of the sore
• * 1.63

  M. Gaile.
• * 1.64

  To take a∣way the crust and the pain
• * 1.65

  A cicatric•• moste 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.66

  A moste no∣ble pouder.
• * 1.67

  An healyng ointemente.
• * 1.68

  Good notes for the Pe∣stilence.
• * 1.69

  Perfume.
• * 1.70

  Pomeamber againste the Pestilence.
• * 1.71

  Cordiall.
• * 1.72

  Purgyng.
• * 1.73

  An Epicu∣res ta••ke.
• * 1.74

  A nice gen∣tleman.
• * 1.75

  Diete.
• * 1.76

  No winde, but it doeth tourne some men to good.
• * 1.77

  Worldly frēd∣sh••ppe.
• * 1.78

  The citezen his feare.
• * 1.79

  His wife hes counssaile.
• * 1.80

  Iames. iii.
• * 1.81

  Ephe▪ v.
• * 1.82

  Galen. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 non aliter ••••ruauis qu•• ae••ri•• mutatione. &c.
• * 1.83

  Gene. xxii.
• * 1.84

  A wise coc∣••••••.
• * 1.85

  Barnet fielde.
• * 1.86

  Dogges and women.
• * 1.87

  Thre things ••onsidered in all creatures.
• * 1.88

  Rogers writyng.
• * 1.89

  The tale of the Lyon.
• * 1.90

  Pacience in pouertie.
• * 1.91

  Note this.
• * 1.92

  Ingratitude
• * 1.93

  Knauishe in∣gratitude.
• * 1.94

  Marke this.
• * 1.95

  Iacke drake.
• * 1.96

  Traitours.
• * 1.97

  Rogers ob∣seruacion.
• * 1.98

  Cōparisons.
• * 1.99

  Merie when friendes dooe meete.
• * 1.100

  Horsemen.
• * 1.101

  Note this note well.
• * 1.102

  ••nauerie.
• * 1.103

  A frende at neede.
• * 1.104

  Secret mur∣ther, openlie punished.
• * 1.105

  A tale of a Frier.
• * 1.106

  The Friers delites.
• * 1.107

  Yong Renob.
• * 1.108

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Latro.
• * 1.109

  Uhe Popes Patrone.
• * 1.110

  Pride will haue a fall.
• * 1.111

  A churle in∣carnate.
• * 1.112

  Closenesse in Usurers.
• * 1.113

  A tale of ma∣ny Foxes.
• * 1.114

  What wise∣men should dooe to pre∣serue health.
• * 1.115

  An Epitaph of a couetous manne.
• * 1.116

  Name no bodie.
• * 1.117

  The fruictes of Usurie and Extorcion.
• * 1.118

  God graunt.
• * 1.119

  Of the Usu∣rers Cowe.
• * 1.120

  Many Usu∣rers.
• * 1.121

  Of geastes in the Inne.
• * 1.122

  Meritrix.
• * 1.123

  A yong man well brought vp.
• * 1.124

  The honestie of an hostler.
• * 1.125

  A parlour.
• * 1.126

  The truthe muste bee fol∣lowed.
• * 1.127

  The best doc∣trine is God∣des woorde.
• * 1.128

  Mulier is a naughtie woorde, saied the gentle∣woman.
• * 1.129

  The Lorde Crumwell.
• * 1.130

  This picture signifieth greate cler∣kes euill oc∣cupied in ke∣ping silence.
• * 1.131

  The golden Rake.
• * 1.132

  A gaper. A catcher.
• * 1.133

  A poore man.
• * 1.134

  I meane no honest or ler∣ned menne.
• * 1.135

  Magus and Iudas.
• * 1.136

  Children sick of the mother remedy is the gallow••s.
• * 1.137

  Patrons Charlice.
• * 1.138

  Spirituall promocion.
• * 1.139

  ☞
• * 1.140

  Symonie.
• * 1.141

  Note this.
• * 1.142

  A Iudges Skinne.
• * 1.143

  A wicked Iudge his rewarde.
• * 1.144

  A good prince
• * 1.145

  Money dooe great mischief in this world
• * 1.146

  Uniuersitee, the fruictes thereof.
• * 1.147

  One pure well, geueth but cleane water.
• * 1.148

  Note also y^e vertue & gen∣tlenesse ma∣keth a gentle¦manne.

  Euenso aun∣cient bloodde wrapped in vice▪ is but grosse gen∣tlenesse.
• * 1.149

  A Metaphor
• * 1.150

  The hongrie Flie will fill his beal••••e.
• * 1.151

  Flatterie of noble menne.
• * 1.152

  Who shal shoe the Mule.
• * 1.153

  The descrip∣cion of the Romishe Churche.
• * 1.154

  The descrip∣tiō of the pre∣lates of the Roomishe Churche.
• * 1.155

  The Popes mekenesse.
• * 1.156

  The Popes practise.
• * 1.157

  The Popes almose dedes.
• * 1.158

  Popes Por∣tars.
• * 1.159

  Coueteous Landlordes.
• * 1.160

  A foole.
• * 1.161

  Rebelles and knaues.
• * 1.162

  Peace and vnitie God sende vs.
• * 1.163

  Ludgate.
• * 1.164

  Make shifts
• * 1.165

  Seignior w••••ters.
• * 1.166

  Happy priui∣lege, and sub¦tile practise.
• * 1.167

  Perillous th••euish ban∣keroutes.
• * 1.168

  Yong and fo∣lishe, olde and beggerlie.
• * 1.169

  A wretche that refused good counsail in tyme.
• * 1.170

  A lesson for •• ••ubber.
• * 1.171

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉.
• * 1.172

  Well fished.
• * 1.173

  Mendax is described.
• * 1.174

  Well taken.
• * 1.175

  A good wife.
• * 1.176

  Newes.
• * 1.177

  A gentle gretyng.
• * 1.178

  Mendax doe beginne.
• * 1.179

  Mendax his armes.
• * 1.180

  A Ruffian.
• * 1.181

  Ironia.
• * 1.182

  Terra Flo∣rida•• described by Maister Mendax.
• * 1.183

  A battail ve∣rie profitable.
• * 1.184

  He was nere the starres.
• * 1.185

  No lye, no lie
• * 1.186

  Mēdax brin∣geth good ti∣dynges of treasure and richesse, and where it is.
• * 1.187

  The beste meate and the worste meate.
• * 1.188

  Birdes of straunge kindes.
• * 1.189

  Ambergrise as plentifull as claie.
• * 1.190

  Precious stones moste plentifullie.
• * 1.191

  Diamondes gathred with Rakes.
• * 1.192

  A great losse, it haue vn∣doen all En∣glande.
• * 1.193

  Cruel womē
• * 1.194

  A good com∣mon wealth.
• * 1.195

  The price of golde.
• * 1.196

  A miracle of double Bere.
• * 1.197

  Where it re∣maineth dou∣ble Bee••.
• * 1.198

  A feaste for Fleminges.
• * 1.199

  Loquax.
• * 1.200

  A newe Ile∣lande that swimmeth, comyng from Paradise.
• * 1.201

  Women haue wormes in their tonges.
• * 1.202

  Guiacum.
• * 1.203

  A great losse.
• * 1.204

  An honeste fellowe.
• * 1.205

  Pirates, hei∣res of wap∣ping for their snappyng.
• * 1.206

  She descri∣beth a ruffian
• * 1.207

  Well ridde of euill store.
• * 1.208

  Faire fieldes
• * 1.209

  Honest land∣lordes, God amende them
• * 1.210

  A nette for fooles.
• * 1.211

  A horse maister.
• * 1.212

  Feaer and dreade.
• * 1.213

  Roger did se visions.
• * 1.214

  A pitifull case
• * 1.215

  Death appe∣reth with .iii. Dartes.
• * 1.216

  A greate thunder.
• * 1.217

  Witchcrafte.
• * 1.218

  Sodain feare
• * 1.219

  Death de∣stroieth all creatures, none can re∣siste hym.
• * 1.220

  The condiciō of a woman.
• * 1.221

  Gētle Roger
• * 1.222

  A frende at neede.
• * 1.223

  Death will not bee en∣treated.
• * 1.224

  Death com∣meth not be∣fore his time.
• * 1.225

  Pestilence.
• * 1.226

  Our daies are set.
• * 1.227

  What death is.
• * 1.228

  Honger.
• * 1.229

  Greate ven∣geaunce.
• * 1.230

  The greatest crosse of all.
• * 1.231

  Note this.
• * 1.232

  Adam caused death.
• * 1.233

  Death is horrible.
• * 1.234

  Death worketh.
• * 1.235

  Ezech. ix.
• * 1.236

  Iob. xiiii.
• * 1.237

  Hell cometh after death.
• * 1.238

  Psal. cxxxviii
• * 1.239

  No policie a∣gainst death.
• * 1.240

  Remember this good reader,
• * 1.241

  Man moste vile carien.
• * 1.242

  ii. Cor. xv.
• * 1.243

  Psalme. ii. and .Cxix.
• * 1.244

  We can car∣rie nothyng awaie,
• * 1.245

  The best waie.
• * 1.246

  Past remedy
• * 1.247

  A wiseman.
• * 1.248

  Tob. x••i.
• * 1.249

  Admonision to his wife and children.
• * 1.250

  Good things
• * 1.251

  To late.
• * 1.252

  Sathans woorke.
• * 1.253

  Mannes wretchednes
• * 1.254

  Christes death.
• * 1.255

  Mannes wi••
• * 1.256

  Math. x.
• * 1.257

  Psalme. xx.
• * 1.258

  Ihon. xi.
• * 1.259

  Roma. viii.
• * 1.260

  What the soule is.
• * 1.261

  Of free will.
• * 1.262

  Praier.
• * 1.263

  Mercie and not workes.
• * 1.264

  Rewarde in Iesus Christ
• * 1.265

  Matth. x.
• * 1.266

  Luke. xv.
• * 1.267

  i. Corin. xiii.
• * 1.268

  Psalme. xiiii.
• * 1.269

  Psalme. iiii.
• * 1.270

  Psalme. ii.
• * 1.271

  ••••oc. vltimo.
• * 1.272

  A Christian mans badge.
• * 1.273

  ii. Cor. xv.
• * 1.274

  Comfort in conscience.
• * 1.275

  Sacramētes
• * 1.276

  The holie Trinitee.
• * 1.277

  The holie Churche.
• * 1.278

  Math. xxvii.
• * 1.279

  Math. xiii.
• * 1.280

  Esaie. lviii.
• * 1.281

  Daniel. xii.
• * 1.282

  Math. xxv.
• * 1.283

  Iob. xiiii.
• * 1.284

  An exhorta∣cion to death.
• * 1.285

  All fleshe shall dye.
• * 1.286

  A constaunt wiseman in aduersitee.
• * 1.287

  Of Iobs pacience.
• * 1.288

  A constant wom••n in trouble.
• * 1.289

  Counsaill.
• * 1.290

  A blessed woma, ii. Mach. vii.
• * 1.291

  Remember our ende.
• * 1.292

  A glasse.
• * 1.293

  A glasse for faire gentle∣women.
• * 1.294

  Where are the old noble persones.
• * 1.295

  De va••i 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.296

  The greatest of the dedde.
• * 1.297

  The hurte of rithesse.
• * 1.298

  Spende all succedyng Gathrall.
• * 1.299

  Coueteous menne, still doe couete.
• * 1.300

  Riches helpe not in the day of vengaunce
• * 1.301

  What paines man will suf∣fer to flie deth
• * 1.302

  Forgeue enemies.
• * 1.303

  Sodainlie cometh ven∣geaunce.
• * 1.304

  A praier in trouble or death.
• * 1.305

  Hebre. xi.
• * 1.306

  The beste medicene.
• * 1.307

  A blessed ende.
• * 1.308

  A praier in the tyme of death.
• * 1.309

  Through the holy Trinitie is creacion & saluacion.
• * 1.310

  A praier.