The flowers of Lodowicke of Granado. The first part. In which is handled the conuersion of a sinner. Translated out of Latine into English, by T.L. doctor of phisicke

The Argument.

Christian must thinke that hee is a man and a Christian, and therfore subi••ct to death, & bound to yeeld a reason of his life past in another world. For which cause he shall doe aduisedly, if he wey without inter∣mission the horrible and intollera∣ble griefes which are wont to en∣comber the sinner at the howre of death, and the feares and amaze∣ments that presently ouerwhelme him vppon the entrance of the lyfe to come. At which time, neyther the goods of the body, nor the goods of For••une, nor any fauour of this world, may appease the iust and incensed wrath of God against sin∣ners.

CHAP. 2. (Book 2)

THat therefore wee may be∣gin from matters most ap∣parant, and which daily we behold with our eyes: goe to my brother, remember ••••ou art a Christian, and a man: & because thou art a Christian, be as∣••••red thou shalt yeelde account of

thy lyfe when thou art dead. Th•• fayth which wee hold and profes•••• excludeth all doubt, and that it is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 experience (offering herselfe dai•••• to our eyes) trulie teacheth vs. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that no man is free from this Ch••••lice, but all must drinke thereo•• whether he be Pope, whether Ki•••• eyther any other what-soeuer.

The day shall once come, whe•••• in at morning thou shalt liue, & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 night thou shalt be dead. The 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shall one day bee, (but whether shall happen to day or to morro•• it is altogether vncertaine) in whi•••• thou thy selfe, which nowe read•• these thinges which wee reckon 〈◊〉〈◊〉 whole, and strong, measuring 〈◊〉〈◊〉 life by the length of thy desires, an•• the dayes by the multitude of thin•• affaires, shalt see thy selfe lying 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thy bedde, full of greefe and sic••••nesse, expecting euery moment th•• stroake and terrible sentence 〈◊〉〈◊〉 death, pronounc••d against all man••kinde, from which thou canst no•• appeale to any other Iudge.

But especially it is to be conside••red, howe vncertaine that howre i•• for euen then it is wont to fall vpo••

〈◊〉〈◊〉 when it is least expected: and ••••en a man wholy secure, thinkes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of it, but rather intending the ••••sinesses and occupations of this 〈◊〉〈◊〉, complots in his hart, howe to ••••nd his longer hoped life in more ••••••icitie and worldlie pleasures. For ••••ich c••use it is often sayde in the ••••••lie Scripture, that it shall come in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 night like a theefe, who euen 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is vvont to breake in, vvhen 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sl••epe soundest, are most secu∣••••, & thinke of nothing lesse then 〈◊〉〈◊〉 imminent theft & perrill, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the suddaine happeneth vnto 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Before death himselfe commeth, a ••reeuous sicknesse dooth vsher 〈◊〉〈◊〉; which is to be considered of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all his accidents, greefes, trou∣••••••s, abhorrings, angers, sirrups, de∣••••ctions, suffumigations, pylls, gar∣••••rismes, and sundry other medi∣••••••es. The long nights likewise, ••••ich at this time are most vncom∣••••••table, wearisome, and full of te∣••••••usnes; all which dispose and pre∣••••re the way to death.

For euen as the Captaine that ••••ill conquer a Fort, first maketh

a breach with his greater ordinance•• then assaileth, inuadeth, and po••••sesseth the same: So before death▪ grieuous infirmitie beginnes th•• charge, which so weakeneth & d••••cayeth the naturall strength of th•• bodie, that it vouchsafeth man n••••••ther daily nor nightly rest: but sh••••keth all the principall members 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his body, without intermission, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 th••t the soule is vnable to defen•• her fort any longer, or conserue h••••••s••lfe in the same, for which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shee leaueth her habitation in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 body, and hauing escaped, flye•••• and departeth to another place.

But when the infirmitie hath pr••••uailed so much, as eyther the sic•• man himselfe, or the Phisition b••••ginnes to doubt, & despaire of lif•• ô good GOD, what perplexitie•• what anguishes? what agonies 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at that time excruciate & teare 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hart? Fo•• then the course or race•• his fore-passed life, is called to min•• then all the images of leauing the representations of those thing•• which hee heere loued, his wife 〈◊〉〈◊〉 children, his friendes, his paren••••▪ his riches, his honours, his titles, 〈◊〉〈◊〉

••ffices, and all other thinges (which ••re wont to bee extinct together ••ith life) represent themselues vnto ••im.

After these, the last accidents, ••hich are cōnexed with death him∣••••lfe doe ass••ult, which are far grea∣••••r then the precedent. The browe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bent, and the skin is distent, wher∣••••on a cold sweat breaketh foorth: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 balls of the eyes waxe dimme, ••••de, and through the intollerable ••••hemencie of paine, are rowled ••••certainly; the eares waxe deafe, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 nose sharpe, the nostrills are re∣plete with excrement, the face wax∣eth blew, the mouth is contracted, the tongue is doubled, and can no more performe his office; tast per∣••isheth, the lyppes waxe pale, the b••eath reinforcing it selfe from the ••••nter of the breast, growes diffici∣••••••t and short: the hands wax cold, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 nayles blacke, the pulse feeble 〈◊〉〈◊〉 faint, (but of speedy motion) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 we intermitteth, now antlie cree∣••••th, the feete die, and loose theyr ••••turall heate. What neede many ••ordes? the whole flesh is turned 〈◊〉〈◊〉 corruption, and all the members

and sences are troubled through th•••• hastie separation. In this manne•• must a man departing out of thy•• world, satisfie for the labours & do••∣lors of others, by whom hee cam•• into this world; suffering in his de∣cease, those griefes which his mo••ther suffered when shee bare him▪ And thus most signal is the propo••••tion of mans egresse, and ingre•••••• into the worlde, for both of the•• are full of dolors; but that his en••trance causeth others griefes, his ••••sue his owne.

Whilst a man floteth, and is to••••sed in these perplexities, suddainl•••• the agony of death is at hand: th•• end of life, the horror of the graue the infelicity of the body which sha•• shortly be wormes meate, are repre∣sented to the memory: but especi••ally of the soule, which as yet abi••deth in the body, but after an hour•• or two must be seperated from it•• Then shalt thou thinke the iudge∣ment of God to be present, then be∣fore thee shalt thou see all thy sinns which shall accuse thee before the tribunall of diuine iustice; Then 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the length, but too late, shalt tho••

••••knowledge, how loathsome those ••imes were, which thou so easely ••ommittedst, then with many due ••••ecrations shalt thou curse the day ••herein thou sinnedst; and crie woe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 those pleasures and delectations ••hich by their allurements inuited ••ee to sinne. Thou canst not in ••••at houre sufficiently admire at thy ••••fe, and thine owne leuity, who for ••ings so vaine, and of so little mo∣••ent (as are those which with inor∣••••nate loue thou wert wont to lust ••••ter) hast cast thy selfe into the per∣••••l of enduring such intollerable do∣••••••urs, of which in that fatall houre ••••ou shalt haue no smal experiment▪ or pleasures passing away, and the ••••dgement of them approaching, at which by it selfe was before lit∣••••e & now ceaseth to be, shall seeme 〈◊〉〈◊〉 be nothing: but that which in it ••••fe is great, and presently instant; ••••ou shalt think it greater then it is; ••ecause thou shalt manifestly know at length with all his circumstan∣••••s. When therefore thou shalt see 〈◊〉〈◊〉 things so vaine, and light, nay ra∣••••er filthy: that thou art nowe de∣••auded of so many goods, and row∣ling

thine eyes hither and thithe•• thou shalt see thy selfe inuirone•• with so many mischiefes, and trib••••lations: for liue thou canst n•• longer, neither is there place for pe••nitence, neyther shall there be a•••• time. The number of thy dayes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sumd vp: They cannot helpe the•••• whom with inordinate loue tho•• hast affected. Much lesse the Idol which thou adorest (why doe I s•••• it?) Yea, what so euer thou m•• louedst, and such thinges as were•• greatest estimation with thee, eu•••• these shall most of all torment the•••• Tell me I pray thee when thou fi••••dest thy selfe forsaken in this perr•••• what minde, what heart wilt tho•• haue? whether wilt thou goe? wh•••• wilt thou doe? whom wilt thou ca•• vppon? it is impossible for thee 〈◊〉〈◊〉 returne to life, and to leaue it is in••tollerable; it is not graunted to a••bide in life: vvhat therefore wi•••• doe? In that day (saith our Lord by the Prophet) the Sunne shall sette 〈◊〉〈◊〉 noone-day, and I will darken the earth in the day of light, & I wil con••uert her festiualls into mournings▪ and all her songs into plaints: and I

••••ll put her as the lament of the ••••st begotten, and her last as the bit••••r day. O horrible wordes, ô hard ••••••ntence, shaking and amazing all ••rts whatsoeuer. In that day (saith 〈◊〉〈◊〉) the sunne shall set at noone-sted. ••or in that houre sinners shall haue ••••e multitude of their misdeedes set ••efore their sight, and beholding the ••uine Iustice breaking their threed ••f life a sonder: some of them shall ••e stroken with so much feare and ••••••rour, that they shall be destitute ••f all hope and confidence, because ••••ey shall thinke themselues to be ••eprobate, and holy excluded from ••••e mercy of God.

Put the case they be as yet in the ••oone sted, that is, let them be yet 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the race of life, (which is as yet ••••e time of repentance;) yet will ••••ey perswade themselues, that there ••emaineth no time or place for them 〈◊〉〈◊〉 repent; but that all meanes of ••epentance are cut off and excluded. ••eare is the most powerfull pertur∣••ation of the minde, which faineth ••o it selfe each little thing to bee great, and is alwaies afraid of things ••bsent, as if they were present.

If a little feare of any thing can do•• this, what cannot that true feare doe which is conceaued of so fearefu•• and capitall perrils? They are as ye•• aliue, & placed in the midst of the•••• friends; notwithstanding begin th•••• to feele the paines and punishmen•••• of the damned. They seeme at on•• time to be both aliue and dead: an•• surprized with the griefes of tho•• present thinges which they are 〈◊〉〈◊〉 leaue, they beginne to feele tho•••• succeeding euills vvhich they fe••••••red. They deeme them blessed th•••• are left in this worlde, and of th•• enuie growe their reasons of new griefe.

The Sun therefore setteth to the•• at noone day, when as to what plac•• so euer they turne their eyes, the•• shal see the entrance to heauen eue••rie way shut against them, neyth•••• shall the radiation of any light ap∣peare vnto them. For if they respect the mercy of God, they shall think•• themselues vnwoorthy to pertak•• the mercy of God; If they flie to the diuine Iustice, they shall suspect that by it, there are due and seuere punishmentes prepared for them:

••••at hetherto their day was, but now ••••e day of our Lord is at hand; yea, ••••ey shal think that it is already be∣••••nning.

If they call to remembraunce ••••eyr fore-passed life, it reprehen∣••eth them vtterly; If they regarde ••••e time present, they see them∣••••••ues a dying; If the time shortly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 come, they see the Iudge placed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his iudgement seate, and them∣••••••ues exspected to be iudged. Now ••••uironed with so many causes of are, what shall they doe? whether all they wend?

The Prophet goeth forward. And will make the earth darke in the ••••y of light; that is, those thinges ••••at are woont sweetely to delight ••ee, nowe shall most of all torture ••ee, and wound thy minde with tollerable goades of griefe.

Trulie it is a pleasant thing for a ••an in his life time, and in state 〈◊〉〈◊〉 health, to see his Children, to ••••ioy his friendes, to order his fa∣••ilie, to haue many ritches, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 possesse with delight vvhat so∣••er the mind can desire. But then 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that pleasure is conuerted into

griefe; For all these thinges afore••said shal teare and tire the miserabl•• conscience with terrible tormente•• and shall be the cruell executione•• of these calamities. It is naturall 〈◊〉〈◊〉 euen as the possession and presen•• of a thing which we loue doth ••••••ioyce vs, euen so the absence ther••••of should breede our sorrow and ••••••spleasure. Heere-vpon the son•••• of the dying father doe flie his pr••••sence, and the louing wife hid•••• her selfe from the face of her dece••••sing husband in his pangs, least 〈◊〉〈◊〉 presence should augmēt his passio•• But although the soule that is p••••••sently to be seperated from the bo•••• is to depart into an vnknowne R••••gion, and the way is at hand, bo•••• long and perrilous, yet immeasu••••••ble griefe permitteth not to obse•••••• the termes of humanity and ciuili•••• neither giueth him leaue that ent••••reth his iourney, to bid his frien•• once farewell before his departur•• If thou hast at any time (good Re••••der) made tryall heereof, thou doo•••• soothly vnderstand that I doe eue•••• way speake the truth. If thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉 neuer been entangled in this perril

••east-wise beleeue them that haue 〈◊〉〈◊〉 experience heereof, For they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 saile the Sea (as the vvise-man 〈◊〉〈◊〉) shew the perrils thereof.

••f therefore such and so great be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that forgoe this dolefull sepe∣••••••ion, what and how mighty thin∣••••••••t thou shal they be that shall fol∣••••w? If the euen and vigill be such, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shall the festiuall and solemne 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it selfe be?

Tell mee (I pray thee) what wilt 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thinke of that houre, when de∣••••••ting out of this life, thou shalt 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that diuine iudgement, alone, ••••ked, poore, without any defender 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thy cause, and thine onely con∣••••ence, thy companion, and that tri∣••••nall, shall be so exceedingly se∣••••re and strickt, where the case of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or of temporall death shall not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 handled but of eternall. And if 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yeelding thy account thou shalt 〈◊〉〈◊〉 found to be much indebted, alas 〈◊〉〈◊〉 horrible shall the anxieties and ••••rows of thy soule be? ô how con∣••••sed shalt thou be, and full of vn∣••••i••full penitence? how voide of all ••••unsell, and destitute of all solace?

Trulie, the perturbation amongst

the Princes of Iuda was very grea•• whē as the victorious sword of Ca••••sar King of Egypt, did tyranni•• thorow all the streetes of Ierusale•• when as thorowe the present pay•• and punishment, they acknowle••••ged theyr fore-passed crymes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 olde errours. But there is no co••••parison betwixt that confusion an•• this whereof we now intreate. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in that houre what shal sinners do•• whether shal they turne themselue•• who shall defend them? teares the are of no force, there all repentan•••• is vnprofitable; in that houre ne••••ther shall prayers be heard, nor 〈◊〉〈◊〉 promises preuaile, or any suret•••• be accepted. When as the last mo••ment of life is past, there is no mo•••• time of repent. And if the for••••said finde no place, much lesse r••••ches, nobility, and honours of th•• world shall helpe: for the wise 〈◊〉〈◊〉 saith; Riches shall not helpe in th•• day of reuenge: But iustice sh•••••• deliuer from death.

But when the vnhappie soule shal•• see her selfe enuironed with so ma∣nie calamities, what shall shee doe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 what shall shee say? in what othe••

••••rdes shall shee lament her lamen∣••••••le case, then those which in times 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Prophet vsed, when he said. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 paynes of death haue compas∣•••••• mee rounde about; and the ••••ods of iniquitie haue troubled ••••ee: The dolours of hell haue en∣••••oned me, and the snares of death 〈◊〉〈◊〉 entrapped mee. VVoe is me ••••etch that I am, what circle is this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which my sinnes haue enclosed ••ee? Howe suddainly, and when I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 suspected, doth this houre en∣••••••gle mee, howe presseth it vp∣••n mee when I least thought of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 VVhat auayle mee myne ho∣••••urs nowe? What helpe me my ••••gnities? What all my friendes? ••hat profitte will my Seruauntes ••••vve bring mee? VVhat fruite ••••all I receaue of all those ritches 〈◊〉〈◊〉 goods which I was woont to ••••ssesse? For nowe a small fielde 〈◊〉〈◊〉 seauen foote long must suffice ••ee, and I must be content with the ••arrowe roome of a Sepulcher, and base winding sheete.

But that which is worst of all, the ••ches which with so many sweats & ••auailes I haue grated from others,

shall remaine heere behind: oth•••• men shall enioy them, and consu•••••• them in pleasures, onely the sin•••• which I haue committed in gath••∣ring them shall accompany me, th•••• I may sustaine condigne punishme•••• for them. What shall I doe with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my pleasures and delights, when they are past away, and naught•• them remaines but the dreggs in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bottome, which are the scruples 〈◊〉〈◊〉 remorce of conscience, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thornes prick and teare my miser••••ble hart, and shall crucifie the sa•••• with perpetuall torments? O dul•••• not to be indured, ô my slouth•••••• negligence worthy a thousand m••••series, how could it be that forge••••full of this time, I haue not prepar•• my selfe to auoid these present cal••∣mities? How often was I warned 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this day, yet haue I shutte vp mi•••• eares to all counsailes? Wretch th•••• I am why receaued I not discipline vvhy obayed I not my Maisters vvhy neglected I the wordes whic•• they taught me? I liued wickedly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the midst of the church, & among•••• the people of God defiled my self•• with all sorts of impiety. In thes••

〈◊〉〈◊〉 such like lamentable expostula∣••••s shall sinners deplore their vn∣••••py fortunes, these shall be their ••••ditations, these their considerati∣•••••• these their confessions.

••ut why trauaile I in vaine, who 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wise, who so eloquent, that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sufficiently expresse or describe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 s••uerity and rigour of that iudg∣••••nt? Wee reade of a certaine de∣••••••ed▪ that after his death appeared his friend, greeuouslie afflicted 〈◊〉〈◊〉 oppressed with great dolours, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a dreadfull and lamentable ••••ce exclaiming thus. No man be∣••••••eth, no man beleeueth, no man ••eeueth. His friend amazed with 〈◊〉〈◊〉, demaunded of him what hee ••ant by that lamentation, to whō ••••re aunswered thus; No man be∣••••ueth howe strictly God iudgeth, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 how seuerely he punisheth. In ••••••firmation of which matter, I ••••••ke it not vnprofitable to report ••his place an example of wonder∣•••••• admiration, which Iohn Clima∣•••••• reporteth to haue happened in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 time to a certaine Monke;* 1.1 For saith I will not omit also to relate 〈◊〉〈◊〉 History of a certaine solitarie

votary, which dwelt in Coreb. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 when hee had liued negligently long time, without any care at all 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his soule, at length ceazed by a si••••••nes, was brought to the last gas••▪ And when the soule had wholy f••••••saken the body, after an houres 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he was restored againe to life, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vpon hee besought euery one 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that wee should from thence-〈◊〉〈◊〉 immediatly depart from him; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 closing vp the dore of his cell 〈◊〉〈◊〉 stones, he remained there enclo•••• for twelue yeeres space, speaking no man, nor tasting any other 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but bread and water. There sitt•••••• hee onely amazedly meditated 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that which he had seene, during 〈◊〉〈◊〉 seperation from the body, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fixed were his thoughts vppon 〈◊〉〈◊〉 same, as that he neuer changed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 countenance; but alwayes rem••••••ning in that amazement, he silen•••••• poured foorth a streame of feru•••• teares. And when hee grew 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vnto his death, breaking open 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dore of his cell, wee entred in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him: And when wee humbly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sought him to giue vs one word 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ghostly instruction, at last we on••••

••••••orted this frō him; Pardon mee, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 man that hath truly the memo∣•••• of death, may euer commit sin. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wee were strooken with won∣••••rfull admiration, beholding him 〈◊〉〈◊〉 first had beene so negligent, to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 so suddainly changed, and (by a ••••st blessed transformation) to be ••••de another man. Hetherto Cli∣••••chus, who was an eye-witnesse of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this, & who test••fieth that which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sawe in his writings. So that no 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (although it may seeme incre••••••••le to som) ought to doubt here∣•••• especially sith hee is both a true 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a faithfull witnes.

Nowe in this storie, there are 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thinges which deseruedly vvee ••••ght to feare, considering the lyfe ••••ich this holy man led, and much 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the vision which hee sawe, ••••ence sprung that his manner of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, which euer after during his ••••ole life he obserued. These ther∣••••••e sufficiently approoue that to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which is spoken by the Wise∣••an; Remember thy end, & thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not sinne for euer.* 1.2 Least there∣••••re (my brother) thou shouldest 〈◊〉〈◊〉 into the like calamities, I beseech

thee with great attention of mind•• to discusse, examine, & often rep•••••• these things aforesaid, & alwaies 〈◊〉〈◊〉 euery where present thē to thy m••••mory. But amongst all the rest, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 graue cōsideration & attentiue m••••mory, these three things in especi•••••• The first whereof is that thou co••••sider the greatnes of the punish•••••••• which thou shalt feele in the ho•••••• of death, for the multitude of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sinnes, wherwith thou hast offend•••• the Diuine bounty. Secondly, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou diligently wey with what ••••••sire thou shalt then wish that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hadst so ordered thy life, that in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 houre thou might'st haue God p••••••pitious vnto thee. Thirdly, that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 remember how great & austere p••••nitence thou wouldst then willing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vnder-take, if time might be gr••••••ted thee.

¶ The Authour purposely intre••••teth of death, in his first booke 〈◊〉〈◊〉 prayer & meditation, also in his E••••ercises in the meditation on W••••••nesday at night; likewise in the Si••••ners guide, lib. 1. cap. 7. & in the ••••••cond part of this booke, cap. 7. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the 3. part, chap. 8.

Notes

• * 1.1

  In scala pa∣radisi gra∣du. 6.
• * 1.2

  Ecclus. 7.