The B. of Sarisburie.
O M. Hardinge, Sophocles him selfe, if he were aliue, were not hable with al his eloquence to expresse the Tragical dealinges of your Companie. Your whole life,* 1.1 and Religion is nothinge els, but a Tragedie. You haue ripte vp the graues, and digged out the deade, and practised your crueltie vpon the poore innocente cackesses.
Your Pope Stephanus tooke vp Formosus his predecessours Body, chopte of his forefingers,* 1.2 cut of his heade, and threwe out the naked carkesse into Tiber.
Your Pope Iohn the twelfth cut of one of his Cardinales right hand, and an others nose.
Your Pope Vrbanus the sixth thrust fiue of his Cardinales aliue into sackes, and threwe them into the sea.
Your Pope Hildebrande poisoned sixe other Popes his predecessours, to make him selfe roome to the Holy Seate. They are so skilful there, in these feates, that noman can telle, neither what to flie, nor what to take: nor whom to doubte, nor whom to truste. They haue conueighed theire poison, I wil not saie into theire meates, or drinkes, for that is ouer grosse, & Common, but euen into theire Masse Bookes, into the Sacramente, into the Chalice. Camotensis one of theire owne side saithe wel of them:* 1.3 Sine Sanguinis effusione nō ingrediuntur in Sancta Sanctorum: VVithout sheaddinge of Bloude they enter not into that Holy place, the Holy of Holies.
Howe be it, what spende I these woordes? It is not possible to saye al, that maie be said. They haue inflamed Warres: they haue raised the Subiectes against theire Princes: They haue armed the Sonne against the Father: They haue ouerthro∣wen Ci••ties, and Countries: They haue deposed Kinges: They haue sette theire feete on Emperours neckes.