A dialoge of comfort against tribulacion, made by Syr Thomas More Knyght, and set foorth by the name of an Hu[n]garie[n], not before this time imprinted

¶ The seconde booke (Book 2)

☞Vincent.

IT is to me good vncle, no litle com∣fort•• that as I came in here, I heard of your folke, that you haue hadde since my last being here (GOD be thanked) metely good rest, and your stomake somwhat more come to you. For verely, albeit I had heard before that in respect of y^e great grief that for a moneth space had holdē you, you were a litle before my last cūming to you, somewhat eased and releued, for els woulde not I for no good, haue put you to the paine to talke so much as you than dyd: yet after my departyng from you, remembring howe longe we taryed together, and that we were all that while in talkinge, al the la∣bour was yours, in talking so longe together without enterpausing betwene, and that of matter studiouse & displeasante, al of disease and sicknes, and other paine and tribulacion: I was in good fayth very sorye, and not a litle wrothe wyth my selfe for myne owne ouer∣sight, that I had so lytle considered your payne, and very feared I was, till I heard other word, leste you should haue wexed weaker, and more sicke hereafter. But nowe I thanke god, that hath sent the cōtrarye, for els a lytle casting backe, were in this great age of yours, no lytle daunger and perell.

☞Antony.

Naye nay good Cosin, to talke much (except some other payne let me) is to me litle grief. A fonde olde mā, is as often full of wordes as a woman. It is, you wote wel, as some Poetes paynt vs, al y^e lust of an old fooles lyfe, to sit wel & warme w^t a cuppe & a rosted

crabbe, & driuel, and drinke and talke. But in earnest Cosyn, our talking was to me great coumforte, and nothing dysplesaunt at al. For though we cōmoned of sorowe and heauines, yet was y^e thing y^t we chiefely thoughte vpon, not the tribulacion it selfe, but the coumforte that may growe theron. And therfore am I nowe verye gladde, that you be come to finishe vp the remnante.

Vincent.

Of truth my good vncle, it was comfortable to me, & hath been since to some other of your frendes, to whome as my poore witte and remēbraunce would serue me, I did, and not nedeles, reporte and rehearse your most comfortable coūsaile. And nowe come I for the remnante, and am very ioyfull that I finde you so well refresshed, and so ready therto. But this one thing good vncle, I bese••he you hartely, that if for de∣light to here you speake in y^e matter, I forgeat my self and you both, and put you to to muche payne, remē∣bre you your owne ease, & then if you lust to leaue, cō∣maund me to goe my waye, & to seke some other time.

¶Antony.

Forsouth Cosin, many wordes, if a mā were weake spoken, as you saied ryght nowe without enter∣p••using, would paraduenture at length somwhat wee∣rye him. And therfore wyshed I y^e last tyme after you were gone, when I left my selfe (to saye the trueth) euen a litle weery, that I had not so tolde you styll a long tale alone, but y^t we had more oftē enterchaūged wordes, & parted y^e talking betwene vs, w^t ofter enter∣pausing vpō your part in such maner, as learned mē vse, betwene y^e persōs whō they deuise, disputing in ther fained dialogues. But yet in y^t point, I sone excu∣sed you, & laid y^e lacke euen where I foūd it, & that was euen vpon myne owne necke. For I remembred

that betwene you and me it fared, as it did once be∣twene a Nun and her brother: verye verteous was this Lady, & of a very verteous place in a close religi∣on•• and therin had bene long, in al whych time she had neuer seene her brother, whyche was in like wise very verteous, and hadde beene farre of at an vniuersitie. and had there taken the degre of doctor in diuinitie, Whē he was come home, he went to see his syster, as he that highlye reioysed in her vertue. So came she to the grate that they call (I trowe) the locutorye, and after theyr holy watche word spokē on both sides, after y^e maner vsed in that place, one toke y^e other by y^e typ of y^e finger, for hand woulde there be none wron∣gen throwe y^e grate, & forthwyth began my Ladye to geue her brother a sermō, of the wretchednes of thys world, & the frayletie of the fleshe, & the subtil sleightes of the wycked fiend, and gaue him suerly good coun∣sayle, sauing somewhat long, howe he shoulde be well ware in his liuing, and master well his bodye for sa∣uing of his soule: and yet ere her owne tale came al at an ende, she began to finde a litle fault with him (and saied) in good faith brother, I doe somwhat maruaile that you y^t haue bene at learning so long, & are doctor, and so learned in the lawe of god, doe not nowe at our meeting (seing we mete so seldom, to me that am your sister & a simple vnlearned soule) geue of your chari∣tie some fruiteful exhortaciō. For I doubt not but you cā saye some good thing yourself. By my trouth good sister {quod} her brother, I can not for you, for your tongue hath neuer ceased, but saied inough for vs both. And so Cosin I remēber, y^t whē I was once fallē in, I left you litle space to saye ought betwene. But nowe wyll I therfore take an other waie with you: for I shal of our

talking, driue you to the one half.

Vincent.

Now for∣soth vncle this was a mery tale. But now if you make me talke the one halfe, thā shal you be contented farre otherwyse, than there was of la••e a kynswomā of your own, but whiche wyll I not tell you, gesse her and you can: her husband had much pleasure in the maner and behaueour of an other honest mā, & kept him therefore muche company, by the reason wherof, he was at hys meale time more oftē from home. So happened it on a tyme, that his wife and he together, dyned or supped with that neighbour of theirs, and thā she made a me∣ry quarel to him, for making her husband so good chere out a dore, y^t she coulde not haue him at home. Forso••h maistres quoth he (as he was a dry mery mā) in my cō∣pany nothing kepeth him but one, serue you him with thesame, & he wil neuer be from you. What gaye thīg may y^t be quoth our Cosin thā? Forsoth maistres {quod} he, your husband loueth wel to talke, & whā he sitteth with me, I let him haue al the wordes. Al the wordes quoth she? mary y^t am I content, he shall haue all the wordes with a good will, as he hath euer had. For I speake thē not al my selfe, but geue them al to hym, and for ought that I care for them, he shall haue them stil: but yet to saye that he shall haue them all, you shall then rather kepe him stil, thā he shal geat y^e one half at my handes.

☞Anthony.

Forso••h Cosin I can soone gesse whiche of our kinne she was: but yet the fewer of that kinde, the quieter is the many (for all her mery wordes) that thus woulde let her husbande to talke.

☞Vincent.

Forsothe she is not so merye, but she is as good. But where you finde faulte vncle, that I speake not ynoughe, I was in good fayth ashamed, that I spake so much, and moued you such questyons, which

I founde vpon your answere, might better haue been spared, they were so litle worth. But now sith I see you be so well contente that I shall not forbeare bolde∣ly to shewe my foly, I wilbe nomore so shamefaste, but aske you what me lust.

¶The first Chapter. VVhither a man may not in tribulacion vse some vvorldly recreacion for hys co••forte.

ANd first good vncle ere we procede farther, I wil be bold to moue you one thīg more of y^t we talked whē I was here. When I reuolued in my minde againe the thinges that were con∣cluded here by you, me thought ye would in no wyse that in any tribulacion men shoulde seke for comforte eyther in worldly thing or fleshly, which mynde vncle of yours, semeth somewhat hard, for a mery tale with a frende ref••esheth a man much, & without any harme lyghteth hys mynde, and amendeth courage and hys stomake, so that it semeth, but well done to take suche recreacion. And Salomon sayeth I trowe, that men should in heauines geue y^e sory mā wine to make him forgeat his sorowe. And. S. Thomas saieth, y^e propre pleasaunte talking which is called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is a good vertue seruing to refreshe the minde, & make it quicke and lusty to labor and study againe, where continuall fatigacion, would make it dull and deadly.

☞Anthony.

Cosin, I forgat not y^• point, but I long not muche to touche it, for neither might I wel vtterly for∣bidde it where the cause mighte happe to fall that it shoulde not hurte, and on the other syde if the case so should fall, me thought yet I should litle nede to geue any counsaile to it: folke are proue inough to such fan∣tasies of their own mind, you may see this by our self,

whiche coming nowe together, to talke of as earnest sadde matters as men can deuise, were fallen yet euē at the first into wantō idle tales and of tru••th Cosin, as you knowe very well, my selfe am of nature euen halfe a gigglot and more, I woulde I coulde as easely mende my faulte as I can wel knowe it, but scant can I refraine it as olde a foole as I am: howbeit so par∣cial wil I not be to my fault as to praise it, but for that you requier my minde in the matter, whether men in tribulacion may not lawfully seke recreacion and cō∣fort thēselfe with some honest mirth firste agreed that out chiefe comforte must be in god, & that with him we must beginne, & wi••h him continue, and w••••h him ende also. A man to take nowe & ••han some honest worldly mirth, I dare not be so sore as vtterli to forbidde it, sith good men & well learned, haue in some case allowed it, specially for the diuersitie of diu••rs mens mindes: for els if we were al such, as would god we were, & such as natural wisdom would we should be, & is not al cleane excusable that we be not in dede: I would than put no doubt, but y^• vnto any man the most cōfortable talking that could be, were to heare of heauē, wheras now, god helpe vs our wretchednes is suche y^t in talking a while therof, mē waxe almost wea••y, & as thoughe to heare o•• heauē were an heauy burdaine, they must refreshe thē selfe after with a foolishe tale, our affeccion towarde heauenly ioyes waxeth wonderful cold. If drede of hel were as far••e gone, verye fewe woulde feare God, but that yet a litle sticketh in ou••e stomakes marke me Cosin at the sermon, and commenlye towardes the ende, somewhat the preacher speaketh of hell and hea∣uen: nowe whyle he preache••h of the paynes in hell•• still they stande yet and geue hym the hearing, but as

soone as he cometh to the ioyes of heauen, they be bus∣king them ba••kewarde and flocke meale fal away: it is in the soule somewhat as it is in the body. Some are there of nature or of euill custome come to that point, that a worse thing some tyme stedeth them more then a better. Some man if he be sicke, can awaye with no holesome meate, nor no medicine can goe downe with him, but if it be tempered with some such thing for his fantasie as maketh y^e matter or y^e medicine lesse hole∣some thā it should be. And yet while it wil be no better, we must let him haue it so. Cassianus that very verte∣ous mā rehearseth in a certayne collacion of his, that a certaine holy father in making of a sermon, spake of heauen and heauenly thynges, so celestially, that much of his audience with the swete sounde therof, began to forgeat all the world and fall a slepe: whiche when the father beheld•• he dissembled their sleping, and sodeinly sayed vnto them: I shal tell you a mery tale. At which worde, they lyfte vp their heades and harkened vnto that. And after the slepe therwith brokē, heard hym tel on of heauen agayne, In what wyse that good father r••buked than their vntowarde myndes so dull vnto the thyng that all our lyfe we labor for, & so quicke and lus••y towarde other tryf••es, I neither beare in mynde, nor shal here nede to rehearse. But thus much of the matter suffiseth for our purpose, that wheras you de∣maunde me whither in tribula••ion men may not some tyme re••••eshe them ••elfe with worldlye myrth & recre∣acion. I can no more say, but he that can not long en∣d••re to holde vp his head and heare talking of heauē except he be now & thā betwene (as though to heare of heauē were heauines) refreshed w^t a mery folishe tale, there is none other remedy but you must let him haue

it: better would I wishe it, but I cannot helpe it. How¦beit, let vs by mine aduise at the least wise make those kyndes of recreaciō as shorte & as selde as we can: let them serue vs but for sauce, & make thē not our meate, and let vs pray vnto god, & al our good frendes ••or vs, that we may fele such a sauour in the delight of heauē, that in respecte of the talkinge of the ioyes therof, all worldly recreaciō be but a griefe to thinke on. And be sure Cosin, that if we might once purchase y^e grace to come to that point, we neuer founde of worldly recre∣acion so much cōfort in a yere, as we should fynde in the bethinkyng vs of heauē in lesse thā half an houre.

☞Vincent.

In fayth vncle I can well agree to this: and I praye God bryng vs once to take such a sauour in it: and surely as you began the other daye, by fayth must we come to it, and to fayth by prayer. But nowe I praye you good vncle vouchesafe to procede in oure principall matter.

¶The .ii. Chapter. Of the shorte vncertayne lyfe in extreme age or sickenes.

☞Anthony.

COsin I haue bethought me somewhat vpon this matter since we were last together. And I fynde it, if we shoulde goe some waye to worke, a thyng that would require many mo dayes to treate therof, than we shoulde happely fynde mete thereto in so fewe as my selfe wene that I haue nowe to liue, while euerytime is not like with me, and among many paynfull, in whiche I loke euery daye to departe: my mendyng dayes come very seld, and are very shortly gone. For surely Cosin I cannot lycken my lyfe more metely now than to the snuffe of a can∣dle that burneth within y^e candelstyckes nose. For as the snuffe some time burneth down so lowe, that who∣so

loketh on it, would wene it were quite out, and yet sodeynly lifteth a flame halfe an inche aboue the nose, and geueth a preaty shorte lighte again, and thus plaieth diuers tymes, til at last ere it be looked for, out it goeth altogether: so haue I Cosin diuers such daies together, as eueryday of them I loke euen for to dye: and yet haue I than after that some suche fewe daies againe as you see me now to haue your selfe, in which a man would wene that I might well continue, but I knowe my lingering not likely to la••t long, but oure wil my snuffe sodeynly some daye within a while, and therfore wil I with goddes helpe, seme I neuer so wel amended neuertheles reckē euery day for my last: for thoughe that to the repressing of the bolde courage of blynde youth there is a very true prouerbe, y^t as soone cometh a young shepes skin to the market as an olde, yet this difference there is at the least betwene them: that as the younge man maye happe sometime to die soone, so y^e olde mā can neuer liue long. And there••ore Cosin, ••n our matter here leauīg out mani thinges y^t I would els treate of, I shall for this time speake but of ve••y fewe, howbeit if god hereafter send me moe such daies, thā wyl we when you luste farther talke of moe.

¶The .iii. Chapter. He deuideth tribulacion into three kindes, of vvhiche three the laste he passeth shor••ly ouer.

ALl maner of tribulacion Cosin that any man can haue, as fa••re as for this time cometh to my mynd, falleth vnder some one at y^e least of these th••ee kindes: ••ither it is such as himselfe willingly ta∣keth, or secondly, such as him selfe willingly suffereth, or finally, such as he cannot put from him. This thyrd kinde I purpose not much more to speake of now•• for therof shal as for this time, suffise those thinges that

we treated betwene vs this other daye: what kinde of tribulacion this is I am sure your selfe perceiue, for sickenes, imprisonment, losse of goodes, losse of frēdes or suche bodely harme as a man hath already caught, and can in no wise auoide, these thinges and such like, are y^e third kind of tribulaciō that I speake of•• which a man neither willingly taketh in the beginning, nor can thoughe he woulde put afterwarde away. Nowe thinke I, that as to the man y^t lacketh witte and faith, no comforte can serue whatsoeuer counsaile be geuē, so to them that haue both, I haue as for this kind said in maner inough already, and considering that suffer it nedes he must while he can by no maner of meane put it from him, the very necessitie is halfe counsayle inough to take it in good worth, & beare it paciently, & rather of his pacience to take both ease & thanke, then by fretting and fuming to encrease his present paine, and by murmure & grudge fal in farther daūger after by displeasīg of god with his froward behaueour, & yet albeit that I thinke that y^t which is saied suffiseth, yet here and there shall I in y^e seconde kinde, shewe some such comfort as shall wel serue vnto this last kinde to.

¶The .iiii•• Chapter.

THe first kinde also will I shortly passe ouer to, for the tribulacion that a man willingly taketh himself which no mā putteth vpon him against his own wil, is you wote wel as I somewhat touched the last daye, such affliccion of the fleshe or expence of his goodes as a man taketh himselfe, or willingly be∣stoweth in punishmēt of his own sinne, and for deuo∣cion to God. Now in this tribulacion nedeth he no mā to comfort him, for while no mā troubleth him but him selfe which feleth how farreforth he may conueniently beare, & of reason & good discrecion shal not passe that,

wherin if any doubte arise, counsayle nedeth and not comforte. The courage that for goddes sake and hys soule helth kindleth his heart and enflameth it therto, shall by thesame grace that putte it in his minde, geue hym suche comforte and ioye therein, that the pleasure of hys soule shall passe the payne of hys body: yea and whyle he hath in hearte also some great heauines for hys synne, yet then he considereth the ioye that shall come of it, his soule shall not fayle to fele than that straūge case which my body felt once in a great feuer.

☞Vincent.

What straunge case was that vncle?

Anthony.

Forsoth Cosin, in this same bedde it is now more than .xv. yere a goe, I lay in a tercian & had pas∣sed I trowe .iii. or .iiii. fittes: but after fell there one fitte on me out of course, so straūge and so maruelouse, that I woulde in good faith haue thoughte it impossi∣ble. For I so••einly felt myselfe veryly both hote and cold thorowout al my body, not in some part y^• one, and in some parte the other, for that had been you wote wel no very straunge thing, to fele the head hote while the handes were a colde: but the selfe same partes I say so god my soule saue, I sensibly felt & right pain∣fully to, al in one instaunt both hote and colde at once.

☞Vincent.

By my trouth vncle this was a wonderful thing, & such as I neuer heard happē any mā els in my daies: & fewe mē are there of whose mouthes I coulde haue beleued it.

Antony.

Courtesi Cosin paraduēture letteth you to saye y^t you beleue it not yet of my mouth nether, & surely for feare of y^• you should haue heard it of me nether, had there not an other thīg happed me sone after.

☞Vincent.

I praye you what was that vncle?

☞Anthony.

Forsoth Cosin thys I asked a phisicyon or twaine, that than loked vnto me howe this shoulde

shoulde be possible, and they twaine tolde me both that it coulde not be, but that I was fallen into some slom∣bre, and dreamed that I felte it so.

☞Vincent.

This hap holde I, litle cause you to tell the tale the more boldelye.

☞Anthony.

No Cosin that is true loe, but than happed there another, that a young Gyrle here in this towne whome a kinsmā of hers had begon to teache plysicke, tolde me that there was such a kynd of feuer in dede.

Vincent.

By our Lady vncle, saue for the credence of you, the tale woulde I not yet tell againe vpon that happe of the maide. For though I knowe her nowe for such, as I durst well beleue her, it might hap her very well at that time to lye, because she woulde you should take her for cunning.

Antony.

Ye, but thā happed there yet an other hap ther∣on Cosin, that a worke of Galien de diff••renciis febrium, is ready to besolde in y^e booke sellers shoppes: In which workes she shewed me than y^• Chapter where Galien saieth the same.

☞Vincent.

Mary vncle as you saye, that happe happed well, and that mayde had (as happe was) in that pointe more cunning than hadde both our physiciōs besides: and hath I wene at this daye in many poyntes moe.

☞Antony.

In fayth so wene I to: and that is wel wa∣red on her, for she is very wyse and wel learned, and very verteous too. But see nowe what age is, loe, I haue beene so longe in my tale, that I haue almoste forgotten for what purpose I tolde it. Oh, now I re∣mēber me loe, lykewyse I saye, as my self felt my body than both hoate & cold at once: so he that is contrite & heauy for his sinne, shal haue cause for to be, and shall in dede be bothe merye and sadde, and both twayne at

once, and shal doe as I remember holy Saint Hierō biddeth: & doleas, & de dolore gaudeas. both be thou sorye saythe he, and be thou of thy sorowe ioyfull also.

And thus as I beganne to saye of comfort to be geuē vnto him that is in this trybulacion, that is to witte, in frutefull heauines and penance for his sinne, shal we none nede to geue other, than onely to remembre and consider the goodnes of goddes excellent mercye wel that infinytely passeth the malyce of al mennes sinne, by which he is readye to receiue euerye man, and dyd spreade his armes abrode vpon the crosse, louinglye to enbrace all them that will come, and euen there ac∣cepted the thefe at his last ende that turned not to god tyll he myght steale no longer, and yet maketh more feasle in heauen at one that from sinne turneth, than of .xcix. good men that sinned not at all. And ther∣fore of that firste kynde will I make no longer tale.

The .v. Chapter. An obieccion concerning them that turne ••ot to GOD tyll they come at the last cast.

☞Vincent.

FOrsoth Uncle, this is vnto that kinde coum∣forte very great, and so great also, that it may make many a man bold to abide in his sinne, euen vnto his last ende, trusting to be thā sa∣ued as that thefe was.

Anthony.

Uerye sooth you saye Cosin, that some wret∣ches are there such, that in suche wse abuse the greate goodnes of god, that the better that he is, the worse a∣gaine they be. But Cosin, thoughe there be more ioye made of his turning y^t frō the poynt of perdicion co∣meth to saluaciō, for pitie that god and his saintes al of the peryll of perishing that the man stoode in, yet he is

not set in like state in heauen as he should haue been if he had lyued better before, excepte it so fall that he liue so well after, and dooe so much good that he ther∣in outrun in the shorter time, those good folke that yet dyd not so much in much lenger, as it proued in y^e bles∣sed apostle. Saint Paul, which of a persecutor became an Apos••le, and last of al came in vnto that office, and yet in the laboure of sowynge that sede of Chrystes faythe, outranne all the remnaunte, so farre forthe that he letted not to saye of hym selfe. Ego plus omnibus cu∣curri, I haue runne more than all the remnaunte haue. But yet my Cosin, thoughe GOD I doubte not be so mercyefull vnto them, that at anye time in theyr lyfe turne and aske his mercy and trust therin, though it be at the la••te ende of a mannes lyfe and hireth him as well for heauen that cummeth to worke in hys Uineyarde towarde nyghte, at suche tyme as men leaue worke, if the tyme woulde serue as he hyreth hym that cummeth in the mornynge: yet maye there no man vpon the truste of thys parable be boulde all hys lyfe to lye styll in synne. For lette hym re∣membre that in Goddes vineyarde there goethe no man but hee that is called thyther. Nowe he that in hope to be called towarde nyght, wyll slepe oute the mornynge, and dryncke oute ••he daye, is full like∣lye to passe as nyghte vnspoken to, and than shall he wyth shrewde reste goe supperlesse to bedde. They tell of one that was wonte alwaye to saie that all the while he lyued he woulde dooe what he luste: for thre woordes when hee dyed shoulde make all safe inoughe: but than so happed it, that longe ere he were oulde, hys horse once stombled vpon a bro∣ken brydge, and as he laboured to recouer hym,

whē he sawe it would not be, but downe into the floud headlong nedes he should: in a sodaine flight he cried out in the falling, haue all to the ••euyl: and there was he drowned with his thre wordes ere he died, wheron his hope hong al his wretched life. And therfore lette no mā sinne in hope of grace, for grace cōmeth but at goddes wyl, and that minde may be the let that grace of a frutefull repenting shall neuer after be offred him, but that he eyther gracelesse go lynger on care∣lesse, or with a care fruitelesse, fall into dispayre.

The .vi. Chapter. An ••bieccion of them that saye that tribulacion of penaunc•• nedeth not, but is a supersticious foly.

Vincent.

FOrsoth vncle in this point me thinketh you saye verye wel. But than are there some a∣gayne that saye on the other side, that hea∣uines of our sinnes we shal nede none at al, but onely chaunge our purpose and intent to doe bet∣ter, and for that which is passed take no thought at al. And as for fasting or other afflyccion of the body, they saye we should not doe it, but onely to tame the fleshe whan we fele it waxe wan••on, and begin to rebel: for fasting they say, serueth to kepe the body in a tempe∣raūce, but for to faste for penaunce, or to doe any other good worke, almose dede and other, toward satisfacciō of our owne sinne, this thing they call playne iniurye to the passion of Christ, by which onely are our sinnes forgeuen frely without any recompence of our owne. And they that woulde dooe penaunce for theyr owne sinnes, looke to be theyr own Christes, and paye theyr owne raunsomes, & saue theyr soules them selfe. And with these reasons in Saxoni, many cast fasting of, & al other bodilye afflyccion, saue onely where nede re∣quireth

to bringe the bodye to temperance. For o∣ther good they say can it none doe to our selfe, & then to our neighboure can it doe none at all, & therefore they condemne it for supersticious foly: now heauines of heart & wepīg for our sinnes, this they reckon shame almost and womanyshe peuishnes, howebeit, thanked be God, theyr women waxe there nowe so mannyshe, that they be not so peuishe nor so pore of sprite, but that they can sinne on as men doe, and be neyther afrayde nor ashamed, nor wepe for theyr sinnes at al. And suer∣lye myne vncle, I haue merueled much the lesse euer since that I heard the maner of theyr preachers ••here. For as you remembre when I was in Saxoni, these matters were in a maner but in a māmering•• nor Lu∣ther was not than wedde yet, nor religious men oute of theyr habyte, but suffered where those that woulde be of the secte frely to preache what they would vnto the people. And forsoth I heard a religious mā there my self, one that had been reputed and taken for very good, and which, as farre as y^e folke perceyued, was of hys owne liuing somewhat auster and sharpe, but his preaching was wonderful, me thinke I heare him yet: his voice was loude and shryll, his learning lesse thā meane: but where as his matter was muche parte a∣gainst fasting & al afflyccion for any penaunce which he called mennes inuencions, he cryed euer out vpon them to kepe well the lawes of Christe, let goe theyr pieuishe penaunce, & purpose thē to mend and seke no∣thing to saluacion but the death of Christ, for he is our iustyce, and he is our sauior & our whole satisfaccion for all our deadlye sinnes, he did ful penaunce for vs all vpon his paynefull crosse, he washed vs there all cleane wyth the water of his swete syde, and boughte

vs out of the deuils daunger with hys deare precious bloud. Leaue therfore, leaue I beseche you these inuē∣cions of men, your foolishe lenton fastes and your pe∣uishe penaunce, minyshe neuer Christes thanke, nor looke ••o saue your selfe, it is Christes death I tell you that must saue vs al: Chrystes deathe I tell you ye•• againe and not our own dedes: leaue your own fas∣ting therefore, & leane to Christ alone good christē peo∣ple for Christes deare bitter passion. Nowe so loude & so shryll he cried Christ in their eares, and so thicke he came forth wyth Christes bytter Passion, and that so bytterly spoken wyth the sweate dropping downe hys chekes, that I merueiled not though I sawe the poore women wepe, for he made my owne heere to stand vp vpon my headde, and wyth suche preaching were the people so brought in, that some fel to breake their fastes on y^e fasling dayes, not of frailetie or of malice first, but almost of deuocion, lest they should take from Chryste the thanke of his bytter passion. But when they were a whyle noseled in that poynte fyrst, they could abide & endure after many thynges moe, wyth whych had he than begonne, they woulde haue pulled him downe.

☞Antony.

Cosyn, GOD amende that mā what soe∣euer he be, and god kepe all good folke from suche ma∣ner of preachers: such one preacher muche more abu∣seth the name of Christe and his bitter Passion, than v. hūdreth hasardars that in theyr idle busines sweare and forsweare them selfe by his holye bitter passion at dice. They carye the myndes of the people from the perceiuing of theyr ••rafte, by the continuall namynge of the name of Christ and crying hys passion so shryll into theyr eares, they forgeat y^t the churche hath euer taught them that all our penaunce wythout Christes

Passion were not worth a pea••e, and they make the people wene y^t we would be saued by our own dedes without Christes death, where we cōfesse that his one∣ly passion meriteth incomparably more for vs, than al our owne dedes doe: but hys pleasure is, that we shall also take payne our owne selfe wyth him, and therfore he byddeth all that wyll be hys dyscyples take theyr crosses vpon theyr backes as he dyd, and wyth theyr crosses folowe hym: and where they saye that fasting serueth but for temperaunce to tame the fleshe, and kepe it from wantonnes, I would in good fayth haue wente that Moyses had not bene so wylde, that for the taminge of his fleshe he should haue nede to faste whole .xl. dayes together.

No nor Hely neyther, nor yet our sauiour hym selfe which beganne, and the Apostles folowed, and all chrystendome haue kept the lenton .xl. dayes fast, that these folke cal nowe so foolishe. King Achas was not dysposed to be wāton in his fleshe, when he fasted and wente clothed in sacke cloth & all besprent w^t asshes. Nor no more was in Niniue the king & al y^e Cytie, but they wayled & dyd payneful penaunce for theyr sinne to procure god to pitie thē & withdraw his indignaciō. Anna that in her wydowhed abode so many yeares with fasting and praying in the temple tyl ••he byrth of Christ•• was not I wene, in her olde age so sore disposed to y^e wantones of her fleshe y^t she fasted al therefore. Nor. S. Paul y^e fasted so much, fasted not all therfore neyther. The scripture is full of places that prouethe fasting not to be y^e inuencion of mā but y^e instituciō of god, & that it hath many moe profytes than one.

And that the fasting of one man maye dooe good to an other, our sauiour saieth hym selfe where he

sheweth that some kynde of diuelles can not be by one man caste out of an other Nisiin oratione & ieiunio, wythout prayer and fasting. And therfore I meruaile that they take this waye against fasting and other bodilye pe∣nance, and yet muche more I meruaile y^t they mislike the sorowe and he auines and displeasure of mynde y^t a man should take in forethinking of his synne. The Prophet sayth. Sindite corda vestra & non vestimenta. Teare your heartes (he sayeth) and not your clothes. And the Pro∣phet Dauyd sayeth. Cor contritum & hu••iliatum deus non despicies. A contrite heart and an humbled, that is to say, a heart broken, torne, and wyth tribulacion of heauines for his sinnes layed a lowe vnder foote, shalte thou not good Lord despyse. He sayeth also of hys owne contricion. Laboraui in gemitu meo lauabo per singulas noctes lecrum meum lacrimis meis stratum meum rigabo. I have laboured in my wailing, I shal euery nyght washe my bed with my teares, my couche wyl I water. But what should I nede in this matter to laye forth one place or twayne. The scripture is full of those places, by which it playnlye appereth that god looketh of duetie, not onely that we shoulde amende and be better in the time to come, but also be sorye, and wepe, and bewayle our sinnes cōmitted before, and all the olde holy Doctours be ful and whole of that mind that men must haue for theyr synnes, contricion and sorowe in heart.

The .vii. Chapter. ¶ VVhat if a man can not vvepe, nor in hys heart be sorye for his sinnes?

☞Vincent.

FOrsothe vncle yet semeth me thys thynge somwhat a sore sentence, not for y^t I thinke other wyse, but that there is good cause and great, wherefore a man so shoulde, but for y^•

of trueth some man can not be sory and heauy for his sinne y^t he hathe done, though he neuer so fayn would: but though he can be contēt for gods sake to forbeare it from thenceforth, yet for euery sinne that is passed, can he not onely not wepe, but some were happely so wanton, that when he happeth to remembre them, he can scantly forbeare to laughe. Nowe if contrycion & sorowe of hearte, be so requisyte of necessitie to remis∣sion. many a man should stand as it semeth, in a very perylous case.

☞Anthony.

Many so shoulde in dede•• Cosyn, and in dede many so do. And y^e olde saynctes wryte very sore in this poynte: how be it, Misericordia domini super omnia opera eius The mercy of God is aboue all his workes, & he stan∣deth bound to no cōmon rule, Et ipse cognouit figmentum suum & propitiatur infirmitatibus nostris. and he knoweth the frayeltye of this earthen vessel that is of his own makyng, and is mercifull, and hath pitye and compassyon vpon our feble infyrmyties, and shall not exacte of vs aboue y^e thinge that we may dooe. But yet Cosyn, he that fyn∣deth him selfe in that case, in that he is mynded to doe well hereafter, let him geue GOD thankes that he is no worse: but in that he can not be sory for his synne passed, let him be sory hardly that he is no better. And as. S. Iherom byddeth him that for his sinne soro∣weth in his harte, be glad and reioyse in his sorowe: so would I counsaile him that can not be sadde for his sinne, to be sory yet at y^e leaste that he can not be sory. Besydes this, though I woulde in no wyse any man should dyspayer, yet would I counsayle suche a man while that affecciō laste••h, not to be to bolde of courage, but lyue in double feare. Fyrst, for it is a token, eyther of faynt fayth or of a dul dyligence, for suerly if we well beleue in God, and therwith depely consyder his high

maies••ye with the perell of our synne, and the greate goodnes of God also, eyther shoulde dreade make vs tremble and breake our stony heart, or loue shoulde for sorow relent it into teares? Besides this, syth I can scante beleue, but syth so lytle myslykynge of our olde sinne is an affeccion not very pure and cleane, & none vncleane thing shal enter into heauen, clens••d shal it be, & purifyed before that we come thether. And ther∣fore woulde I farther aduise one in y^t case, the coūsayle which master Gerson geueth euery man, that syth the body and the soule together make the whole man the lesse afflicciō that he feleth in his soule, y^e more payne in recompence: let him put vpon his bodye, and purge the spyrite by the affliccion of the fleshe, and he that so dothe, I dare laye my lyfe, shall haue his harde hearte after relent into teares, and his soule in an wholsome heauines and heauenly gladnes to, specially if (whiche must be ioyned with euery good thinge) he ioyne fayth∣ful prayer therewith. But Cosin, as I tolde you y^e other daye before: in these matters with these newe men wil I not dispute, but suerli for mine owne parte I can not well holde with thē: for as myne owne poore wyttes cā perceyue, y^e holy scripture of GOD is very playne a∣gaynst them, & the whole corps of chrystendom in euery chrystē region•• and y^e very places in which they dwell thē selfe, haue euer vnto theyr owne dayes clearly be∣leued agaynste them, and all the old holy doctors haue euermore taughte agaynst them, and al y^e olde holy en∣terpretors haue construed the scripture agaynst them. And therfore if these men haue nowe perceiued so late, that y^e scripture hathe bene misse vnderstandē all this while, and y^t of all those olde holy doctors no mā coulde vnderstande it, than am I to olde at this age to begyn

to studye it nowe, and trust these mennes cunnynge Cosyn, that dare I not in no wyse, syth I can not see nor perceiue no cause wherefore I should thinke that th••se men mighte not nowe in the vnderstandyng of scrypture•• as well be deceiued them selfe, as they beare vs in hand y^t al those other haue bene all this while be∣fore: how••beit Cosyn, if it so be that theyr waye be not wronge, but that they haue founde out so easy a waye to heauen as to take no thoughte, but make mery, nor take no penaunce at all, but syt them downe & drynke well for our sauiours sake, set cocke a hope & fyll in al the cuppes at once•• & thā let Christes passion paye for all the shot, I am not he y^t will enuye theyr good happe, ••ut suerly counsayle dare I geue no man to aduēture that waye with them. But suche as feare lest y^e waye be not suer, & take vpon them willingly tribulaciō of pe∣nance, what comforte they do take, and well maye take therin, y^t haue I somewhat tolde you alreadi. And sith these other folke sit so mery without such tribulacion, we nede to talke to thē you wotte wel of no suche ma∣ner comforte, and therfore of this kinde of trybulacion will I make an ende.

The .viii. Chapter. Of that kynde of tribulacion vvhich though they not vvillingly take, yet they vvillingly suffer.

Vincent.

VErely good Uncle so may you wel doe, for you haue brought it vnto veri good passe. And now I requier you to come to that other kynde, of which you purposed alwaye to treate laste.

☞Anthony.

That shall I Cosin very gladli doe. The o∣ther kynde is this which I rehersed second, & sortyng cut the other twayne, haue kept it for y^e laste.

This kynde of trybulacion is you wote well, of ••hem that wyllingly suffer tribulacion, thoughe that

of theyr owne choyse they toke it not at the fyrste.

This kynde Cosyn deuide we shall in to twayne. The fyrst might we call temptaciō, the second persecu∣tion. But here muste you consyder that I meane not euery kynde of persecution, but y^e kinde onely, whiche though the sufferer woulde be lothe to fall in, yet wyll he rather abyde it and suffer it, than by the flitting frō it, fall in y^e dyspleasure of God, or leaue gods pleasure vnprocured. Howebeit, if we cōsidre these two thinges wel, temptaciō & persecucyon, we maye finde y^t eyther of them is incydent to y^e other. For bothe by temptatiō the Deuyl persecuteth vs, & by persecucion the Deuyl also tempteth vs: and as persecution is trybulacion to euery man, so is temptacion tribulaciō to a good man.

Now though the Deuyll our spyrituall enemy fight agaynst man in bothe, yet this difference hathe the cō∣mon temptacyon from the persecucion, that temptaciō playn is as it were the fiendes trayn, & persecuciō his open fight. And therfore will I now call all this kynd of trybulation here, by the name of temptacion, & that shall I deuide into two partes. The fyrst shall I call the Deuilles traynes, the other his open fight.

The .ix. Chapter. Fyrst of temptacion in generall as it is common to bothe.

TO speake of euery kinde if temptation par∣ticularly by it selfe, this were you wote well in maner an infinite thinge: for vnder that as I tolde you, fall persecutions and all. And this Deuill hath of his open fight as many sun∣dry poysoned dartes, he tempteth vs by the worlde, he tempteth vs by our owne fleshe, he tempteth vs by pleasure, he tempteth vs by payne he tempteth vs by our foes, he tempteth vs by our owne frendes,

and vnder colour of kynrede, he maketh many tymes our next frendes our most foes: for as our sauior sayth, Inimici hominis domestici eius. But in all maner of so diuers temptacions one ma••uelous comforte is this, y^• with the moe we be tempted, y^e gladder haue we cause to be••ffor. S. Iames sayth, Omne gaudium existimate fratres quum in t••mptaciones varias incideritis. Esteme it and take it, sayth he, my brethren for a thinge of all ioye, whan you fall into di∣uers and sundri maner of temptacions: & no maruaile, for there is in this worlde sette vp as it were a game of wrestling, wherin the people of God come in on the one side, and on the other side come mighty stronge wres••lers and wily, that is to wete, the Deuylles, the cursed proud damned sprites: for it is not our fleshe a∣lone that we must wrestle with, but with the deuyll too, Non eft nobis colluctacio aduersus carnem & sanguinem, sed aduersus principes & potestates tenebrarum harum aduersus spiritalia nequitie in celestibus. Our wrestling is not here sayth. S. Paule agaynst fleshe and blud, but agaynst the Princes and Potestates of these darke regyons, agaynst the spyrituall wycked ghostes of the ayre.

But as God (vnto them that on his parte geue his aduersary the fall) hathe prepared a croune, so he that will not wrestle shal none haue: for as. S. Paule saith, Nemo coronabitur nisi quilegittime certauerit. there shal no mā haue ••he crowne but he that doth his deuor therfore, accor∣ding to the lawe of the game. And than as holy. S. Barnard sayth: how couldest thou fight or wrestle, ther∣fore, if there were no chalenger against thee, y^t woulde prouoke the therto. And therfore maye it be a greate comforte as. S. Iames sayth to euery mā that feleth himself chalenged & prouoked by tēpta••ion, for therby perceyueth he that it commeth to his course to wrestle,

which shall be (but if he willingly wyll playe y^e coward or the foole) y^e matter of his eternall reward in heauē.

The .x. Chapter. ¶A special comfort in all temptacion.

BUt nowe muste this nedes be to man an in∣estimable comforte in all temptacion, if his fayth fayle him not, y^t is to wit, y^t he may be sure that God is alway ready to geue him strengthe agaynst y^e deuylles might, & wysdō againste y^• deuilles traynes: for as the Prophet sayth: Fortitudo m••••et laus mea dominus factus est mihi in salutem. My strength and my prayse is our Lorde, he hathe bene my safegarder. And the scripture sayth. Pete a deo sapientiam et dabit tibi. Aske wisdō of God and he shall geue it thee: Vt possitis (as. S. Paule sayth: deprehendere omnes artes, that you maye spye & perceyue all y^e craftes. A greate cōforte maye this be in all kyn∣des of temptaciō, y^e god hath so his hande vpō him that is willing to stande & will truste in him, and call vpon him y^t he hathe made him sure by many faythfull pro∣myses in holy scripture, that eyther he shall not fall, or if he some tyme thorowe fayntnes of fayth stagger & happe to fall, yet if he call vpon God betymes, his fall shall be no sore bruisinge to him, but as the scripture sayth: Iustus si ceciderit non•• collidetur quia dominus supponit manū. The iuste mā though he fal shal not be bruised, for our lorde holdeth vnder his hande. The Prophete expresseth a playne cōfortable promise of God agaynst all tempta∣cion, where he saieth: Qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi, in proteccit one dei ••eli commorabitur. who so dwelleth in the helpe of the highest God, he shall abyde in y^e protecciō or defence of y^• God of heauen. Who dwelleth nowe good Cosyn in the helpe of the highe God? suerly he y^e thorowe a good ••aythe abideth in y^• truste & confydence of Gods helpe

and neyther for lacke of that fayth and truste in his helpe. falleth desperate of all helpe, nor departeth from the hope of his helpe to seke him selfe helpe as I toulde you the other daye, of the fleshe, the worlde or the de∣uyll. Nowe he than y^t by fast fayth and suer hope dwel∣leth in Goddes helpe and hangeth alwaye therupon, neuer fallinge from that hope, he shall, sayth the Pro∣phet euer abyde and dwell in Goddes defence and pro∣t••ccyon, that is to saye, that whyle he fayleth not to be∣leue well and hope well, GOD wyll neuer fayle in all temptacion to defende him. For vnto suche a faythfull well hoping man the Prophet in the same psalme sayth farther: Scapulis suis obumbrabit tibi & sub pennis eius sperabis: with his shoulders shall he shadowe thee, and vnder his feathers shalt thou trust.

Lo, here hath euery faythfull man a sure promyse, that in y^• feruent heate of temptacion or tribulaciō (for as I haue sayde dyuers times before) they be in suche wyse coincydent, that euery trybulacion the Deuyll vseth for temptacion to bringe vs to impacience, and thereby murmure, grudge & blasphemy, and euery kynde of temptacion is to a good man that fighteth a∣gainst it, and will not folowe it, a very paynfull tribu∣lacion. In the feruent heate, I saye therfore, of euery temptacion, GOD gyueth the faythfull man that ho∣peth in him the shadowe of his holy shoulders whiche are brode and large suffycient to refrygerate and re∣freshe the man in that heate, and in euery trybulacion he putteth his shoulders for a defence betwene.

And than what weapon of the Deuyll maye geue vs any deadly wound, whyle that impenetrable pauyce of the shoulder of GOD s••andeth alwaye betwene? Than goeth the vearse farther and saythe vnto suche

a faythfull man, et sub pennis eius sperabis. Thy hope shall be vnder his feathers, y^• is to wete, for the good hope thou haste in his helpe. he will take the so nere him into his proteccyon, that as the henne, to kepe her younge chyc∣kyns from the kyght, nestleth them togather vnder her owne wynges, so fro the deuilles clawes, y^e raue∣nouse kyght of this darke ayre, y^e God of heauen wyll gather his faithful trustinge folke, nere vnto his owne sydes, and set them in surety very well and warme vn∣der the couering of his owne heauenly winges. And of this defence and protection our sauyor spake him selfe vnto the Iewes, as mention is made in the .xxiii. Chapter of. S. Math. to whome he saide in this wise, Hierusalem Hierusalem que occidis Prophetas & lapidas eos qui ad te missisunt, quotics volui congregare te sicut gallina congregat Pullos suos & noluist••? that is to saye, Hierusalem Hierusalem, that kyllest y^e Pro∣phetes and stonest vnto deathe them that are sent vn∣to the, how oftē woulde I haue gathered the together as y^e henne gathereth her chyckens, and thou wouldest not?

Here are wordes Cosyn Uincent, wordes of no litle comforte vnto euery christen man, by which we maye see, with how tender affeccyon GOD of his greate goodnes longeth to gather vnder the protecci∣on of his wynges, and howe often lyke a louynge henne he clocketh home vnto him, euen those chickēs of his, that wylfully walke abrode in the kyghtes dan∣ger, and will not come at his clockynge, but euer the more he clockethe for them, the farther they goe from him. And therfore can we not doubte if we will fo∣lowe him & with faythfull hope come runne vnto him, but that he shall in all matter of temptacion take vs nere vnto him and sette vs euen vnder his wynges,

and than are we safe, if we will tary there. For against our wil can there no power pul vs thence, nor hurt our soules there. Pone me (saith y^e Prophet) iuxta te, & cui••suis ma∣nus pugnet contra me. Set me nere vnto the, & fight against me whose hand that wyl: and to shewe the great safe∣garde and suerty that we shall haue while we syt vn∣der his heauenlye feathers. The Prophet sayth yet a great deale farther. Sub vmbra alarum tuarum exultabo. That is to wete, that we shall not onely (when we sitte by hys swete syde vnder his heauēly wing) sytte in safegard, but that we shall also vnder the couering of hys hea∣uenly wynges, wyth greate exultacion reioyse.

The .xi. chapter. Of .iiii. kyndes of temptacions, and therein both the partes of that kinde of tribulacion that men vvillingly suffre, touched in tvvo vearsis of the Psalter.

NOwe in the next vearses folowing, y^e Pro∣phet briefly comprehendeth foure kyndes of temptacion, and therein al the tribulaciō that we shall nowe speake of, and also some part of that which we haue spoken of before, and ther∣fore I shal peraduenture, except any farther thing fal in our way, w^t the treating of those .ii. vearses finishe & ende al our matter. The Prophet sayth in y^e psalme S••uto circumdabit te veritas eius, non timebis a timore nocturno. A sagitta vo∣lante in die a negotio perambulante in tenebris ab incursu et demonio meridi∣ano. The trueth of God shall compasse the aboute wyth a pauice, thou shalt not be afraid of the nightes feare, nor of the arrowe flying in the daie, nor of the busines walking about in darkenesses, nor of the incursion or inuasion of the deuill in the mydde daye.

Firste Cosin in these wordes: The trouthe of GOD shall coumpasse the aboute wyth a pauice: The Pro∣phet

for the cumforte of euery good man in al tempta∣cion and in all tribulacion beside those other thinges that he saide before, that the shoulders of god shal sha∣dowe them, and that also they should sytte vnder hys wynge, here sayeth he farther. The trouth of GOD shall compasse thee with a pauice, that is to witte, that as god hath faithfully promised to protecte and defend those that fai••hfully wyll dwel in the tru••t of his helpe, so wil he truely performe it, & thou y^• such one art, wil y^e ••routh of his promise defend not wyth a litle rounde buckler that scant can couer y^e head, but wyth a long large pauice that couereth all alonge the bodye, made as Sainte Barnard saieth, brode aboue with the god∣head, and narowe beneath wyth the manhead, so y^t this pauice is our sauiour Christe him selfe: and yet is this pauice not lyke other pauices of thys world, which are not made but in such wyse as while they defende one parte, the man may be wounded vpō another: but this pauice is such, that as the Prophet sayeth. it shall round aboute enclose and compasse the, so that thyne enemye shall hurte thy soule on no syde. For, Scuto (saith he) circundabit te veritas eius: wyth a pauice shall hys truethe enuirone and compasse the rounde aboute, and than continently folowyng, to the entent y^t we should see y^t it is not without necessite that the pauice of god should cūpasse vs about vpō euery syde. He sheweth in what wyse we be by the deuil with traynes and assaultes by iiii. kyndes of tēptacions & tribulacions enuyroned on vpō euery side: against al which cumpasse of tēpta∣cions and tribulaciōs, that round cumpassing pauice of Goddes trueth, shall in suche wyse defende vs and kepe vs safe, that we shal nede to dreade none of them all.

The .xii. Chapter. The firste kynde of the foure temptacions.

FYrste he sayeth: Non timebis a timore noc••urno. Thou shalt not be afrayd of the feare of y^e nighte. By the nyghte is there in scripture some∣tyme vnderstand trybulacion as appeareth in the .xxxiiii. Chapter of Iob. Nouit ••nim deus opera ••orum, id∣••irco induce•• nocrem. God hath knowē the workes of them, & therefore shall he bring nighte vpon them, that is to witte tribulacion for theyr wyckednes: and well you wote, that the night is of the nature of it selfe verye discumfortable and full of feare. And therefore by the nightes feare, here I vnderstande the tribulacion by whych the deuill thorowe the sufferaunce of god, ey∣ther by hym selfe or other that are hys instrumentes, tempteth good folke to impacience as he did Iob. But he that as the prophet sayth, dwelleth and continueth faythfully in the hope of goddes helpe, shall so be be∣cleped in on euerye syde wyth the shielde or pauice of god, that he shal haue no nede to be afrayde of such tri∣bulacion that is here called the nightes feare. And it maye be also conuenientlye called the nightes feare for two causes. The one•• for that many times y^e cause of hys trybulacyō is vnto him that suffereth it, darke and vnknowen, and therin varyeth it, and dyffereth from that trybulacion by whych the deuill tempteth a man wyth open fyght and assaulte for a knowen good thing frō which he would withdrawe him or for some knowen euill thing into which he would driue him by force of such persecuciō. An other cause for which it is called y^e nightes feare, may be for y^t y^e night is so farre out of courage, & naturallye so casteth folke in feare, y^t of euery thing wherof they perceiue any maner dreade,

their fantasy doubleth theyr feare, and maketh them often wene that it were muche worse then in dede it is. The Phrophet sayth in the psalter. Posuisti tenebras & facta est no••, in illa pertransibunt omnes besti•• siluarum. Catuli leonum ru∣gientes querentes a deo escam sibi Thou haste good lord set the darknes, and made was the night, and in the nighte walke al the beastes of the wood. The whelpes of the Lyons roaring and calling vnto GDO for theyr meate.

Nowe though that the Lyons whelpes walke aboute roaring in y^e night and seke for theyr pray, yet can they not geat such meate as they woulde alway, but muste holde them selfe content wyth such as God suffereth to fall in theyr waye. And thoughe they be not ware therof, yet of god they aske it, and of hym they haue it. And thys maye be coumforte to al good men in theyr night feare, in theyr darke tribulacion: that thoughe they fall into the clawes or the tee••he of those Lyons whelpes, yet shall all that they can dooe not passe be∣yonde the bodye, which is but as the garmente of the soule. For the soule it selfe whiche is the substance of the mā, is so suerly fensed in rounde aboute wyth the shield or pauice of God, that as longe as he wyl abyde faythfully in adiutorio altissimi, in the hope of Godes helpe, the Lyons whelpes shall not be able to hurte it. For the greate Lyon hym selfe coulde neuer be suf∣fered to goe farther in the trybulacion of Iob, than God from tyme to tyme gaue hym leaue. And ther∣fore the depe darkenes of the midnight maketh men y^• stande out of fayth and out of good hope in God, to be in theyr tribulacion farre in the greater feare for lacke of the light of fayth wherby they might perceiue that the vttermoste of theyr peryl is a farre lesse thing

than they take it for, but we be so wonte to set so much by oure body whiche we see and fele, and in the feding and fos••ring wherof we set our whole delight and our welth, and so litle, alas, and so seld we thinke vpon our soule because we cannot see that, but by spirituall vn∣derstanding, & moste specially by the iye of our faith (in the meditaciō wherof, we bestowe, god wote, litle tyme) that the losse of our body we take for a sorer thyng and a greater tribulacion a greate deale, than we doe the losse of our soule. And wheras our sauiour biddeth vs that we should not feare these lyons whelpes that can but kill our bodies, and whē that is done haue no far∣••her thing in their power wherwith they can dooe vs harme, but biddeth vs stande in dreade of him, whiche when he hath s••aine the body, is able thā beside to cast the soule into euerlasting fyer: we be so blinde in the darke nighte of tribulacion, for the lacke of full and fast belief of goddes worde, that whereas in the daye of prosperitie we very litle feare god for oure soule, oure nyghtes feare of aduersitie maketh vs verye sore to feare the Lion & his whelpes for dreade of losse of our body. And wheras. S. Paul in sūdry places sheweth vs that our body is but as the garment of the soule, yet the faintnes of our fayth to the Scripture of god ma∣keth vs with the nightes feare of tribulacion more to dreade, not onely the losse of our body•• thā of our soule: that is to witte, of the clothing thā of the substaūce that is clothed therewith, but also of the verye outwarde goodes that serue for the clothing of the body, and much more foolishe are we in that darke nightes feare, than were he that coulde forgeat the sauing of hys bodye, for feare of losing his olde rayne beaten cloke that is but the couering of his gown or his coate. Now

consider farther yet, that the Prophete in the forece∣membred vearses, sayeth not that in the night walk•• onely the Lions whelpes, but also, Omnes besties siluarum all the beastes of the wood. Nowe wote you well, that if a man walke thorowe the wood in the nighte, many thynges maye make him afrayde, of which in the daye he woulde not be afrayde of a whit: for in the nyghte euery bushe (to him that waxeth once afrayde) semeth a thefe. I remember that when I was a younge man, I was once in the war••e with the king: than my ma∣ster (God assoile his soule) and we were camped with∣in the Turkes grounde, many a myle beyonde Bel∣grade, whiche woulde God were oures nowe as well as it was than: but so happed it, that in oure campe a∣boute midnighte, there sodaynlye rose a rumoure and a skrye that the Turkes whole armye was secretely stealing vpon vs, wherwith oure whole host was war∣ned to arme them in haste, and sette themselfe in aray to fighte, and than were scurars of ours that brought these sodayne tidinges, examyned more laisorly by the counsayle, what suretye or what likelyhode they had perceyued therein: of whom one shewed that by the glimuring of the moone he had espyed and perceiued and sene them hymselfe, comming on softely and so∣berly in a longe raunge all in a good ordre, not one farther foorth than the other in the forefrunte, but as euen as the threde, and in bredth farther than he coulde see in length. Hys fellowes beyng examined, saied that he was somewhat pricked foorth beefore them, and came so fast backe to tel it thē, y^t they thought it rather time to make haste and geue warning to the campe, than to goe nerer vnto them, for they were not so farre of, but that they had yet themselfe somewhat

an vnperfecte syghte of them too: thus stoode we wat∣••hyng all the remnaunte of the nyghte, euermore harkenyng when we shoulde heare them come with hushte, stande styll, me thynke I heare a tramplyng, so that at laste many of vs thoughte we heard them oure selfe also. But when the daye was sprongen, and that we sawe no manne, oute was oure scurer sente a∣gaine, and some of oure capitaines with him to shewe them where aboute the place was, in whiche he per∣ceiued them: and when they came thyther, they found that great fearefull armye of the Turkes so soberlye commyng on, turned (God bethanked) into a fayre longe hedge, standyng euen stone styll. And thus fa∣reth it in the nyghtes feare of trybulacyon, in whiche, the deuill to beare down and ouerwhelme with dreade the faythfull hope that we shoulde haue in GOD, casteth in oure imaginacion muche more feare than cause. For whyle there walke in the nighte, not onely the Lyons whelpes, but ouer that, all the beastes of the wood, beside the beastes that we heare roarīg in the darke nighte of tribulacion, and feare it for a Lyon, we sometyme fynde well afterwarde in the daye, that it was no Lyon at al, but a sely rude roaring asse: & the thyng y^t on the sea semeth sumtime a rocke, is in dede nothing els but a mist: howbeit, as y^e Prophet saith: He that faythfully dwelleth in the hope of gods helpe, the pauice of hys trouth shal so fence hym in roūd about, that bee it an asse colte, or a Lions whelpe, a rocke of stone or a mist. Non tim••••it a timore nocturno, the nightes feare therof shal he nothyng nede to dreade at all.

¶The .xiii. Chapter. Of pusillanimitie.

THerefore find I that in this nightes feare, one greate parte thereof is the fault of pusillanimitie, y^t is to witte, feble, and faynte stomake, by whiche a man for fainte hearte, is afrayed where he nedeth not: by reasō where∣of he f••yeth often tymes for feare of that thing, of which if he fledde not, he shoulde take no harme: and some man dooeth some tyme by his fleing make his enemy bolde on him, which would if he fled not but durst abyde therby, geue ouer & ••••ee from him. This fault of pusillanimitie maketh a manne in his tribulacion for fieble heart, firste impacient, and after∣warde often tymes driueth him by impacience into a contrarye affeccion, making frowardlye, stubburne and angry againste God, and thereby to fall into blas∣phemye, as dooe the damned soules in hell: this faulte of pusillanimitie and timerouse mynd, letteth a man also many times from y^e doing of many good thinges, whiche (if he tooke a good s••omake to him in the trust of Goddes helpe) he were well able to dooe, but the deuill casteth him in a cowardise, and maketh him take it for humilitie to thinke him selfe vnmete and vnable thereto, and therefore to leaue the good thing vndone, whereof GOD offereth hym occasyon and had made hym mete and conueniente thereto. But suche folke haue nede to lyfte vp theyr heartes and call v∣pon God, and by the counsayle of other good ghostly folke, caste awaye the cowardise of their owne conceite, whiche the nightes feare•• by the deuill hath framed in theyr fantasy, and loke in y^e gospel vpō him which laid vp his talente, and lefte it vnoccupied, and therefore vtterly lost it, wyth a greate reproche of his pusillany∣mitie

by whiche he hadde wente he shoulde haue ex∣cused hym selfe in that he was afrayde to put it forth in vre and occupye it, and all this feare commeth by the deuilles dryfte, wherein he taketh occasion of the fayntnes of our good and sure truste in god, and ther∣fore let vs faithfully dwel in y^e good hope of hys helpe, and than shall the pauice of his trueth so compasse vs aboute, that of thys nyghtes feare we shall haue no feare at all.

The .xiiii. Chapter. Of the doughter of pusillanimitie a scrupulous conscience.

THys Pusillanimytie bryngeth forthe by the nyghtes feare, a verye tymerous daughter, a sely wretched Gyrle and euer puling, that is called scrupulosytie or a scrupulous consci∣ence. Thys gyrle is a metely good pussell in a house, neuer idle, but euer occupied and busy, but albeit she haue a verye gentle maystres y^t loueth her wel, & is well content wyth that she doeth, or if it be not all well (as all can not be alwayes wel) content to pardon her as she doeth other of her felowes, and so letteth her knowe that she wyll: yet can this peuishe Gyrle neuer cease whining and puling for feare leste her maystres be alwaye angry wyth her, and y^t she shal shrewdly be shent. Were her maistres wene you lyke to be cōtent with this condicion? Naye verely, I knewe such one my selfe whose maystres was a verye wyse woman, and (whiche thing is in women, rare) verye mylde and also meeke, and liked verye well suche seruice as she dyd her in her house, but this continuall dyscomforta∣ble

fashiō of hers she so much misliked, y^• she woulde sometyme saye. Eygh, what ayleth this gyrle. The eluishe vrchyn weneth I were a deuill I trow: suerly if she did me .x. times better seruice thē she doeth, yet wyth this fantastical feare of hers, I woulde be loth to haue her in my house.

Thus fareth loe, the scrupulous persō, which frameth him selfe many tymes double the feare that he hathe cause, & many tymes a great feare where there is no cause at al, and of that whiche is in dede no sinne, ma∣keth a veniall, and that y^• is no venial, imagineth to be deadlye: and yet for all that falleth in them, beyng namely such of theyr own nature, as no mā long liueth without, & thā he feareth that he be neuer ful confessed nor neuer full cōtryte, and than that his sinnes be ne∣uer full forgeuen him, and than he confesseth and con∣fesseth agayne, and cumbreth hym selfe and hys con∣fessor both, and than euery praier that he saieth, though he saye it as wel as the frayle infyrmitie of y^e man wyl suffer, yet is he not satisfied, but if he saye it agayne, and yet after that againe: and when he hath sayed one thyng thryse, as litle is he satysfied wyth the la••te as wyth the first, and than is his heart euermore in hea∣uines, vnquiet, and in feare, full of doubt and dulnes, wythout comforte or spyrytuall consolacion.

Wyth this nyghtes feare, the deuill sore troubleth the minde of many a ryghte good man, & that doeth he to bring him to some great incōuenience, for he wil if he can, driue hym so much to the fearefull mindinge of goddes rigorous Iustice, y^t he wyll kepe hym from the cumfortable remembraunce of goddes greate mercy, and so make him doe all his good workes wearilye, and wythout consolacion and quicknes.

Moreouer, he maketh hym take for sinne, some thinge ••hat is none, and for deadly, some such as are but ve∣niall, to the entent that when he shall fall in them, he shal by reasō of his scruple sinne, where ells he should not, or sinne deadly (whyle his conscience in the dede doing so gaue him) where els in dede he had but offen∣ded venyally. Yea & farther the deuil lōgeth to make all his good workes and spirituall excercise so pain∣full and and so tedious vnto him, that wyth some o∣ther subtyll suggestion or false wyly doctryne of a false spirituall libertie, he shoulde for the false ease & pleasure that he shoulde sodeinly finde therin, be easi∣ly conueied from that euill fault into a muche worse, & haue his cōscience as wide & as large after, as euer it was narrowe and strayte before. For better is yet of trueth, a conscience a lytle to strayte, then a greate deale to large. My mother had, whē I was a litle boye, a good olde womā y^t toke hede to her childrē, they called her mother Maude•• I trowe you haue heard of her.

Vincent.

Yea, yea, verye much.

Antony

She was wonte when she sate by the fyre w^t vs, to tel vs y^t were children many chyldyshe tales. But as Plinius sayth, y^t there is no boke lightly so badde, but that some good thing a man may pyke out therof: so thinke I there is no tale so foolishe, but y^t yet in one matter or other, to some purpose it may hap to serue. For I remembre me•• y^t amonge other of her fonde chyldyshe tales, she tolde vs one that the Asse and the woulfe came on a tyme to cōfession to the foxe. The poore Asse came to shryft in y^e shroftide, a daye or two before Ashewednesdaye, but y^e woulfe would not come to cōfessiō vntil he saw first Palme Sonday pas••, & thā foded yet forthe farder vntyll good Frydaye came.

The Foxe asked the Asse before he beganne Benedicite. wherefore he came to confession so soone before lente began. The poore beast answered hm againe: for feare of deadly sinne, and for feare he shoulde lese his part of any of those prayers that the priest in the clensinge dayes prayeth, for them that are confessed alreadye. Than in his shryfte he had a meruelous great grudge in his inwarde conscyence, that he had one daye geuē hys maister a cause of angre, in that, y^t with hys rude roaring before hys maister arose, he had awaked hym out of hys slepe, and bereued hym of his reste. The foxe for y^e fault•• lyke a good dyscrete cōfessor, charged him to doe so no more, but lye still & slepe lyke a good sonne him selfe tyll hys mayster were vp, and rea∣dye to goe to worke, and so shoulde he be sure that he should not wake him no more.

To tel you al the poore Asses confessiō, it were a long worke: for euery thing that he dyd was deadly synne wyth him, the poore soule was so scrupulous.

But his wise wyly cōfessor accoumpted thē for trifles, as they were in dede, and sware afterwarde vnto the bageard that he was so weary to syt so long and heare him, that sauing for the maner sake, he had leuer haue sytten all the whyle at breakefaste wyth a good fatte goose. But when it came to the penaunce geuing, the foxe found that the most waighty sinne in al his shrift, was glotonye, and therefore he discretly gaue hym in penaunce, that he shoulde neuer for gredines of hys owne meate doe anye other beast anye harme or hin∣deraunce, and then eate hys meate, and studye for no more.

Nowe, as good mother Maude tolde vs, when the Woulfe came to confession to father Raynarde

(for that was, she said, the foxes name) vpon good fry∣daye, his confessor shooke his greate payer of beades vpon him, almoste as bigge as bowles, and asked hym wherefore he came so late? Forsoth father Raynarde quod the woulfe, I muste nedes tell you the truth, I come you wote well therefore, I durst come no sooner for feare lest you woulde for my glotonye haue geuen me in penaunce to fast some parte of thys lent. Naye naye, quod father foxe, I am not so vnreasonable, for I fast none of it my selfe. For I may say to the sonne betweene vs twayne here in confession, it is no com∣maundement of god this fasting, but an inuencion of man. The priestes make folke faste and put them to payne aboute the moone shyne in the water, and doe but make folke fooles, but they shal make me no such foole I warraunte thee sonne. For I eate fleshe all this lent my self I: howebeit, because I wil not be in dede occasion of slaunder, I therefore eate it secretlye in my chāber out of sight of al such foolishe brethren, as for theyr weake scrupulous conscience would waxe offended wythall, and so woulde I counsayle you to doe. Forsoth father Foxe quod the woulfe, and so I thanke god I doe as nere as I can, for when I goe to my meate, I take none other cōpany wyth me, but such sure brethren as are of my owne nature, whose cōsciences are not weake I warraunt you, but theyr stomake as strong as myne. Wel thā, no force quod father foxe. But when he heard after by hys confes∣siō y^t he was so great a rauenor y^t he deuoured & spent somtyme so muche vytaile at one meale, as the pryce therof woulde finde some poore man wyth hys wyfe and his children almost al y^e wieke, than he prudently reproued y^t poynte in hym, and preached hm a processe

of his owne temperaunce, which neuer vsed as he said to passe vpon him selfe the valure of .vi.d. at a meale, no nor yet so much neither. For when I bring home a Gose, quod he, not out of y^e poulters shoppe where folke fynde them out of theyr feathers ready plucked, and se which is the fattest, & yet for .vi.d. by & chose the best: but out of the houswifes house at the first hand, whych maye somwhat better cheape aforde them you wote wel than the poulter maye, nor yet can not be suffered to se them plucked and stande and chose thē by daye, but am fayne by night to take aduenture, and when I come home, am fayne to dooe the laboure my selfe & plucke her. Yet for all this, though it be but leane, & I wene not well worth a grote, serueth it me somtime for all that both dinner and supper to. And therfore, as for that you liue of rauen, therin can I finde no fault: you haue vsed it so longe, that I thinke you can dooe none, o••her, and therefore were it folye to forbydde it you, and to saye the trueth against good consience to, For lyue you must I wote wel, and other craft can you none, and therfore as reason is, must you lyue by that. But yet you wote well, to much is to much, & measure is a merye meane, whiche I perceyue by your shrifte you haue neuer vsed to kepe, and therfore suerly this shall be your penance: that you shal al this yere neuer passe vpon your selfe the price of .vi.d. at a meale, as nere as your conscyence can gesse the pryce.

Their shrifte haue I shewed you as mother Maude shewed it vs. But nowe serueth for our matter the cō∣science of them bothe, in the true perfourminge of theyr penaunce. The poore Asse after hys shrifte, whē he waxed an hungred, sawe a sowe lye wyth her pig∣ges well lapped in newe strawe, and neare he drewe

and thought to haue eaten of the strawe, but anon his scrupulous cōscience begā therein to g••udge him, for while his penaunce was for gredines of his meate, he should doe none other bodye no harme, he thought he might not eate one strawe•• lest for lacke of that strawe, some of those pigges mighte happe to dye for colde: so helde he still his hungre tyll one brought hym meate. But whē he should fal therto, then fel he yet in a farre farther scruple, for then it came in hys mynde that he should yet breake hys penaunce if he should eate any of y^e either, syth he was cōmaūded by his ghostly father that he shoulde not for his owne meate hyndre any o∣ther bea••te, for he thoughte that if he eate not that meate, some other beast might happe to haue it, and so shoulde he by the eatyng of it, paraduenture hyndre some other, and thus stode he styll fasting, tyl when he ••olde the cause, his ghostly father came aud enformed hym better, and then he caste of that scruple, and fell manerly to his meate, and was a right honest Asse ma∣ny a fayre daye after.

The woulfe nowe comming frō shrift, cleane soyled from his sinnes, went about to doe, as a shreude wyfe once tolde her husbande that she would doe when she came from shrifte. Be mery man, quod she nowe, for this daye I thanke God was I well shryuen, and I purpose nowe therfore to leaue of al mine olde shrewd∣nes and begin euen afreshe.

Vincent.

Ah, well vncle, can you reporte her so: that worde harde I her speake, but she saide it in sporte to make her good mā laughe.

☞Antony.

In dede it semed she spake it halfe in sporte, for that she sayde she woulde caste awaye all her olde shrewdnes, therein I trowe she sported: but in

that she sayde she woulde begynne it all afreshe, her husbande found that good earnest.

☞Vincent

Wel, I shal shewe her I warrant you what you saye.

¶Antony.

Than wyll you make me make my worde good: but what soeuer she did, at leastwise so fared now this woulfe, which had cast out all hys olde rauen in confession, and than hungre pricked him forward, that (as the shrewde wyfe sayed) he dyd in dede begynne al afreshe. But yet the prycke of conscience wythdrewe and helde hym backe because he woulde not for brea∣king of his penaūce, take any praye for his meale tide that should passe y^e price of .vi.d. It happed him thā as he walked prolling for his geare about, he came where a mā had in fewe daies before, cast of two olde, leane, & lame horses, so sycke, that no fleshe was there almoste leaft on them, and the one when the woulfe came by, could scant stande vpon his legges, and the other al∣readye dead, and hys skynne rypped of and caryed away. And as he loked vpon thē, sodeinly he was first aboute to fede vpon them, and whette hys teethe on theyr bones, but as he looked asyde, he spied a fayre cowe in a close walking wyth her younge calfe by her syde: and as soone as he sawe them, hys consceince be∣gan to grudge hym againste bothe those two horses, and than he syghed & said vnto him selfe. Alas wicked wretch that I am, I had almost broken my penaunce ere I was ware, for yonder dead horse, because I ne∣uer sawe no dead horse solde in the market, and I shoulde euen dye therfore by the waye that my sinfull soule shal to, I can not deuise what price I should set vpon him, but in my conscience I set him farre aboue

vi.d. & therfore I dare not medle w^t him. Now thā is yōder quicke horse of likelihode worth a great deale of money, for horse be deare in this coūtrey, specially such softe aumblers, for I see by his pace he trotteth not, nor can scāt shift a foote, & therfore I may not meddle with him, for he very farre passeth my vi.d. but kine, this countrey here hath inough•• but noney haue they very litle: & therfore considering the plenty of y^e kyne, and the scarcitie of the money, as for yonder peuishe ••owe semeth vnto me in my conscience worth, not past a grote, and she be worth so much. Nowe than as for her calfe, is not so much as she by halfe, and therefore, whyle the cowe is in my conscience worth but foure pence, my conscience cannot se••ue me for sinne of my soule to prayse her calfe aboue two pence, and so passe they not .vi.d, betwene them both, and therefore them twayne may I wel eate at this one meale, & breake not my penaunce at all, and so thereupon he dyd withoute any scruple of cōscience. If such beastes could speake nowe, as mother Maude sayd they could than•• some of them would, I wene, tel a tale almost as wyse as this: wherin saue for the minishing of old mother Maudes tale, els would a shorter ••rocesse haue serued: but yet as peuishe as the parable is, in this it serueth for oure purpose, that the nightes feare of a conscience some∣what scrupulouse, though it be painfull and tro••blous to him that hath it, lyke as this poore asse had here, is les••e harme yet, than a conscience ••uerlarge, or suche as for his own fantasie the man lust to frame himself, now drawing it narrowe now stretching it in breadth, after the maner of a cheuerel pointe, to serue on euery syde for hys owne commoditie, as did here the wylye ••oulfe: but suche folke are out of ••ribulacion, and cō∣forte

nede they none, and therfore are they out of our matter: but those that are in the nightes feare of their owne scrupulous conscience, lette them be well ware as I sayed, that the deuill, for wearines of the one, drawe them not into the other: and whyle he woulde flee from Scylla, dryue him into Charibdis. He muste dooe as doth•• a shippe that shoulde come into a hauen, in y^• mouth wherof lie secret rockes vnder y^e water on both sides, if he be by missehappe entred in among thē that are on the one syde, and cannot tell how to geat oute, he must geat a substaunciall cunning pilote that so can conduce hym from the rockes on that syde that yet he bryng him not into those that are on the other syde, but can guide hym in the midde way: let them I saye that are therfore in the troublouse feare of theyr own scrupulous conscience, submitte the rule of their owne conscience, to the counsayle of some other good man, whiche after the varietie and the nature of the scrupulous, may temper his aduise: yea although a mā be very well learned him selfe, yet let hym in this case learne the custome vsed among phisicions: for be one of them neuer so cunning, yet in his owne disease and sickenes, he neuer vseth to trust al to himselfe, but sen∣deth for suche of his felowes, as he knoweth mete, and putteth himselfe in their handes for many considera∣cions, wherof they assigne the causes, and one of the causes is feare, wherof vpon some tokens he may cō∣ceyue in hys own passion, a great deale more then ne∣deth: & that were good for his health, that for the time he knewe no suche thyng at all. I knewe once in thys towne, one of the most cunning men in that facultie, and the beste experte, and therwith the moste famous to•• and he that the greatest cures did vpon other men,

and yet when he was him selfe once very sore sicke, I heard his fellowes that than loked vnto hym, of all whiche, euery one woulde in their owne disease, haue vsed his helpe before any other men, wishe yet that for the tyme of hys owne sickenes, being so sore as it was, he had knowen no phisicke at all, he toke so great hede vnto euery suspicious token, and feared so farre the worste, that his feare did him some tyme muche more harme thā the syckenes gaue him cause. And therfore as I say, whoso hath such a trouble of his scrupulouse conscience, lette him for a while forbeare the iudgemēt of hymselfe, and folowe the counsayle of some other whom he knoweth for well learned and verteous•• and specially in the place of confession, for there is god spe∣cially present with his grace, assisting his holy Sacra∣mente, and lette hym not doubte to acquiet hys mynde and folowe that he there is biddden, and thinke for a whyle lesse of the feare of Goddes iustice, and be more mery in the remembraunce of hys mercye, and per∣seuer in prayer for grace, and abyde and dwell fayth∣fully in the sure hope of his helpe, and than shal he find withoute any doubte, that the pauyce of Goddes trouth shall, as the Prophet saith, so compasse him about, that he shal not nede to dreade this nightes feare of scru∣pulositie, but shall haue afterwarde his conscience stablysshed in good quiet and rest.

The .xv. Chpter. An other kynd of the nightes feare, an other doughter of pusillanimitie, that is to vvete, that horrible temptacion by vvhiche some folke are tempted to kill and destroye themselfe.

Vincent.

VErelye good Uncle, you haue in my mynde, well declared these kyndes of the nights feare.

☞Antony.

Sureli Cosin, but yet are there many

moe than I can eyther remembre or find: howbeit, one yet commeth to my minde now, of which I before no thing thought•• and which is yet in mine opinion, of all the other feares the most horrible: that is to witte Co∣sin, where the deuill tempteth a man to kil and destroy hymselfe.

Vincent.

Undoubtedly this kinde of tribulacion is meruelouse and st••aunge, and the temptaciō is of such a sorte, that some men haue opinion that suche as fall once in that fantasye, can neuer after ful caste it of.

☞Anthony.

Yes, yes Cosin, many a hundreth, and els god forbid: but the thing that maketh men so say, is be∣cause that of those which finally doe destroy themself, there is muche speache and much wondering, as it is well worthy, but many a good man, and many a good womā hath sometyme, yea diuers yeres eche after o∣ther, continually be tempted therto, & yet haue by grace and good counsaile, well and verteously withstand it, and bene in conclusiō clerely delyuered of it, and their tribulacion nothyng knowen abrode, and therfore no∣thing talked of: but surely Cosin, an horrible sore trou∣ble it is to any man or woman that the deuill tempteth therewith: many haue I heard of, and with some haue I talked my selfe, that haue been sore encombred with that temptacion, and marked haue I not a litle the maner of them.

☞Vincent.

I require you good vncle, shewe me some∣what of suche thinges as you perceiue therin, for fyrst where you call this kinde of temptacion the doughter of pusillanimitie, and therby so nere of sibbe vnto the nightes feare, me thinketh on the other side, that it is rather a thyng that commeth of a greate courage and boldnes, whan they dare their owne handes put them

selfe to death, from which we see almoste euery man shrynke and flee, as that many suche as we knowe by good proofe and playne experyence for men of greate hearte and of an excedyng hardie courage.

☞Anthony.

I sayde Cosyn Uyncent, of that pusillany∣mytie cometh this temptacion, and very trueth it is. y^• in dede it so doeth, but yet I meynt it not that of onely faynt hearte and feare it cometh and groweth alwaye, for the deuil tempteth sundry folkes by sundry wayes: but the cause wherfore I spake of none other kynde of temptacion, than of onely that whiche is the daughter that the deuyll begetteth vpon pusyllanimitie, was for that, that those other kyndes of that temptaciō fall not vnder the nature of tribulaciō and feare, and therfore fal they farre out of our matter here, and are suche tēp∣taciōs as onely nede counsayle, and not coumforte or consolacion, for that the persones therwith tempted, be with that kynde of temptacion not troubled in theyr mynde, but verely well content, both in tempting and folowinge: for some hathe there bene Cosin suche, that they haue be tēpted therto by meane of a folishe pryde, & some by y^e meane of anger, without any dreade at al, & very glad therto, to this I saye not naye. But where as you wene that none fal therto by feare, but that they haue all a stronge mightye stomake, that shall you see the contrarye, & that peraduen••ure in those of whom you woulde wene the stomake most stronge, and theyr hearte and courage most hardye.

Vincent.

Yet is it maruayle Uncle to me y^• it shoulde be as you saye it is, that this temptacion is vnto them that doe it for pryde or for angre, no trybulacion, nor y^t they shoulde nede in so greate a dyst••esse & peryl bothe of bodye and soule to be loste, no maner of good ghostly

comforte at al,

Anthony.

Let vs therfore Cosin, cōsidre a sample or two, for therby shal we the better perceiue it. There was here in Buda in king Ladislaus dayes, a good pore honeste mans wyfe: this womā was so fien∣dyshe, that the Deuill perceyuinge her nature, put her in the mynde that she shoulde anger her husbande so sore, that she might geue him an occasion to kyll her, & than he should be hanged for her.

Vincent.

This was a s••range temptacion in dede: what the Deuill shoulde she be the better than?

Anthony.

Nothinge, but that it eased her shrewde stomake before, to thinke that her husband shoulde be hanged after. And peraduenture if you loke about the worlde and considre it well, you shall fynde moe suche stomakes thā a fewe. Haue you neuer heard no furious bodye saye playnly, that to see some suche man haue a myschy••fe, he woulde with good will be content to lye as longe in hell as God lyueth in heauen?

Vincent.

Forsothe and some suche haue I hearde?

☞Anthony.

This minde of his was not muche lesse mad then hers, but rather happely y^e more mad of y^e twayn, for the womā peraduenture dyd not cast so farre pe••ell therin. But to tell you nowe to what good passe her charytable purpose came: as her husbande (the man was a carpenter) stode hewynge with his chyppe axe vpō a piece of timbre, she beganne after her olde guise, so to reuile him, that the man waxed wrothe at last, and ••ade her get her in or he woulde laye y^e helue of his axe aboute her back, & saied also, that it were lytle sinne e∣uen with that axe head to choppe of that vnhappye head of hers, that caryed suche an vngraciouse tounge ther∣in. At that worde the Deuyll toke his tyme, and whetted her tounge agaynst her teeth, and whē it was

well sharped, she sware vnto him in very fierce anger. By y^e masse horesō husbande I woulde thou wouldest, here lyeth my head loe, (& therwith down she layed her head vpon the same tymbre logge) if thou smyte it not of, I beshrewe thy horesons hearte. With y^t, lykewyse as the Deuyll stode at her elbowe, so stode (as I hearde saye) his good aungell at his, and gaue him ghostly cou∣rage, and bade him be bolde and doe it. And so the good man vp with his chyppe axe, & at a choppe chopped of her head in dede. There were standynge other folke by, which had a good sporte to heare her chide, but litle they loked for this chaunce tyll it was doone ere they coulde let it: they saied they heard her tounge bable in her head, and call horeson•• horeson•• twyse after the head was frō the bodye. At leastewyse, afterwarde vnto the kynge, thus they reported all, except only one, & that was a wo∣man, and she saied that she hearde it not.

☞Vincent.

Forsothe this was a wonderfull worke, what became vncle of the man?

☞Anthony.

The kynge gaue him his pardon.

☞Vincent.

Uerely he might in concience doe no lesse.

☞Anthony.

But than was i•• farther at nother poynte, y^t there shoulde haue been a statute made, y^t in suche case, there should neuer after pardō be graunted, but y^e truth beynge able to be proued, no husband shoulde nede any pardō, but shoulde haue leaue by the lawe to folowe the sample of the carpenter and doe the same.

Vincent.

Howe happed it vncle, y^t y^• good lawe was lefte vnmade?

Antony.

Howe happed it? as it happeth Cosin, y^t many mo be left vnmade as well as it, and within a lytle as good as it to, bothe here & in other countreyes, & some tyme some worse made in theyr stede. But as they saie, y^e let of y^t law was y^e Quenes grace, god forgeue her soule:

it was y^• greatest thinge I wene good Ladye that she had to answere for when she dyed, for surely saue for y^e one thinge, she was a full blessed woman. But letting now that lawe passe, this temptaciō in procuringe her owne death was vnto this carpenters wyfe no tribu∣laciō at all, as farre as euer men coulde perceyue: for it lyked her well to thinke theron, and she euen longed therfore. And therfore, if she had before tolde you or me her mynde, and that she woulde brynge it so fayne to passe, we coulde haue had no occacion to comforte her as one that were in tribulacion, but mary counsayle her (as I tolde you before) we well might, to refrayne and amende that deuelyshe mynde of hyrs.

☞Vincent.

Uerely that is trueth, but suche as are well wylling to doe any purpose that is so shamefull, wyll neuer tell theyr minde to no bodye for very shame.

☞Antony.

Some will not in dede, & yet are theyr some agayn, that, be theyr entent neuer so shamefull, fynde some yet, whome theyr hearte serueth them to make of theyr counsayle therin. Some of my folke here can tel you, that no longer ago than euen yesterdaye, one that came out of Uienna shewed vs amonge other talking, that a riche widowe (but I forgot to aske him where it happed) hauing all her lyfe an high proude minde and a fell, as those two verteues are wonte alway to kepe cō∣pany together, was at debate with an other neighbour of hers in the towne, & on a time she made of her coun∣sayle a poore neighbour of hers, whō she thought for money, she might enduce to folowe her mynde: with him secretly she brake, and offred him .x. Duccattes for his labour to doe so muche for her, as come in a morninge early to her house, & with an axe, vnknowen, pryuelye to stryke of her head: and when he had so

done, than conuaye the blody axe, into the house of him with whom she was at debate, in some suche maner of wyse, as it might be thought that he had murdered her of malyce, & than she thought she shoulde be taken for a martyr. And yet had she farther deuysed, y^t an other sūme of money should after be sent to Rome, and that there should be meanes made to y^e Pope, that she might in all hast be canonyzed. This poore man promysed, but entended not to perfourme it, howebeit, when he de∣ferred it, she prouyded y^e axe her selfe, and he appoynted with her the morning when he shoulde come. But thā sette he suche other folke, as he would shoulde knowe her frantique fantasie, in such place appoynted as they might wel heare her and him talke together. And after that he had talked with her therof what he woulde, so muche as he thought was ynoughe, he made her lye downe, & toke vp the axe in his one hand, & with the o∣ther hande he felte the edge, and founde a faulte that it was not sharpe, and that therfore he woulde in no wise doe it, tyll that he had ground it sharper, he coulde not els he sayed for pietye, it would put her to so muche payne, & so full sore agaynst her wyll, for that tyme she kept her head styll: But because she woulde not suffer any moe to deceyue her so and fode her forthe with de∣layes, ere it was very long after, she hanged her selfe with her owne handes.

☞Vincent.

Forsoothe here was a tragycall story, wher∣of I neuer heard the lyke.

☞Antony.

Forsoothe the partye that tolde it me, sware that he knewe it for a trueth. And hym selfe is I pro∣myse you suche, as I reckon for ryght honest, & of sub∣stancyall trueth. Nowe here she le••ted not as shame∣ful a mind as she had, to make one of her counsaile yet,

and yet as I remembre an other to, whom she trusted with the money that shoulde procure her canonyzacyō. And here I wote well that her temptacion came not of feare, but of high malyce & pryde. But than was she so glad in the pleasant deuise therof, y^t as I shewed you, she toke it for no tribulacion, but for a maruelous mery mortall temptacion. And therfore, comfortinge of her coulde haue no place: but if men should any thing geue ••er tow••rd her helpe, it must haue bene (as I tolde you) good counsayle: and therfore as I sayde, this kynde of temptacion to a mannes owne destrucciō which reqi∣reth counsayle, & is out of trybulacion, was out of our matter, that is to wete of comforte in trybulacion.

The .xvi. Chapter. Of him that vvere moued to kyll him selfe by illusion of the Deuill, vvhich he reckoned for a reuel••cion.

BUt lest you might reiecte both those samples, weninge they were but fayned tales, I shal but put you in remembraunce of one, which I reckō your selfe haue read in y^e collacions of Cassianus: & if you haue not, there maye you soone fynde it, for my selfe haue halfe forgotten the thinge, it is so longe since I read it: but thus muche I remem∣bre, y^t he telleth of one there y^t was all his dayes a very holy mā in his liuing, & amonge y^e other verteous mon∣kes & Anckres y^t lyued in wyldernes, was maruelous∣lye muche estemed, sauing that some were not all out of feare of him, lest his reuelacions, wherof he tolde many by him selfe, woulde proue illusions of the deuyll, and so proued it after in dede: for the man was by the deuylles subtyll suggestions brought into suche an high spiry∣••uall pryde that in conclusion y^e deuyll brought him to that horrible poynte that he made him to kyll him selfe, & as farre as my mynde geueth me nowe, without newe

sight of y^• boke, be brought him to it hy this perswasiō, that he made him beleue it was gods will he shoulde so doe, & y^t thereby should he goe strayght to heauen. And than if it were by that perswasion with which he tooke very greate comforte in his owne mynde him selfe, was it then as I sayde out of our case here, and neded not comforte, but counsayle agaynste geuing credence to y^e deuelles perswasyon. But mary if he made him fyrste perceyue howe he had been deluded, & thā tempted him to his owne death by shame & dyspayre, than was it in our matter loe, for thā was his temptacion fallen down from pryde to pusyllanimitie, & was waxen that kynde of the nightes feare y^t I spake of, wherin a good parte of the counsayle y^t were to be geuen him, shoulde haue nede to stand in good comfortyng, for than was he brought to ryght sore tribulacion: but as I was aboute to tell you, strength of heart and courage is there none therin, not onely for y^t very strength as it hath y^e name of vertue in a reasonable creature can neuer be with∣out prudence, but also for that as I sayed euen in them that some men of most hardynes it shall well appeare to them that well waygh y^e matter, y^t the mynde where∣by they be ledde to destroye them selfe, groweth of pu∣syllanymytie and very folyshe feare. Take for the sam∣ple, Cato vticensis, whiche in Affrycke kylled him selfe, after the greate victory of Iulyus Ceasa•• had. S. Austyn well declareth in his worke, De ciuitate dei, that there was no strength nor magnanimitie therin but playne pu∣syllanimitie, and impotencye of stomake, whereby he was forsed to the destruccyon of him selfe, b••cause his hearte was to feble to beare the beholdynge of an other mannes glorye, or the sufferynge

of other calamyties, that he feared shoulde fall on him selfe. So that. S. Austen well proueth that horryble dede is no acte of strength, but an acte of the mind, ey∣ther drawen from the consyderacion of it selfe, with some deuelyshe fantasye, wherin the man hath nede to be called home with good counsayle, or els oppressed by faint heart and feare, wherin a good part of the coun∣sayle must stande in lyfting vp his courage, with good consolaciō and comforte: and therfore if we found any suche religyouse person as was that father which Cas∣syon wryteth of, that were of such austerytie and appa∣rent ghostly lyuinge, that he were with suche as knewe him reputed for a manne of syngular vertue, and that it were perceyued that he had many visions appearing vnto him, if it shoulde nowe be perceyued after y^e that y^e•• man went about secretlye to destroye him selfe, who so shoulde happe to come to the knowledge thereof, and entended to dooe hys deuor in the let: Fyrst must he fynde the meanes to searche and fynde oute, whether the man be in his maner and in his coūtenaunce, light∣••ome, gladde and ioyfull, or dumpishe heauye or sadde: and whither he goe there about as one that were full of the glad hope of heauen, or as one that hadde his brest farsed full of tedyousnes & wearynes of the worlde: if he were founden of the fyrst fashion, it wer a token that the deuyll hath by his fantasticall apparicions puffed him vp in such a pieuyshe pryde, y^t he hath finally per∣swaded him by some illusyon shewed him for the proofe, that gods pleasure is that he shal for his sake with his owne handes kyll him selfe.

Vincent.

What if a man so found it vncle, what coun∣sayle should a man geue him than?

☞Anthony.

That were somewhat out of our purpose

Cosin, syth as I tolde you before, the man were not thā in sorow and tribulacion, wherof our matter speaketh, but in a perylous me••ye mortall temptacion: so that if we should beside our owne matter that we haue taken in hand entre into that to, we might happe to make a longer worke betwene bothe, than we coulde well fy∣nyshe this daye. Howebeit to be short, it is soone sene, that therein the counsayle and the effecte therof, must in maner rest in geuing him warning of the deuilles sleyghtes, & that must be doone vnder suche pleasante swete maner, as the man should not abhorre to heare it: for whyle it coulde lightly be none other but y^t the man were rocked and songen a slepe by the deuylles crafte, and therby his mynde occupyed as it were in a delecta∣ble dreame, he shoulde neuer haue good audyence of him that would rudely & boysteously shugge him and wake him and so shake him out therof•• Therfore must you fayer & easely touche him, & with some pleasaunte spe••he awake him so, that he waxe not wayward as chil∣dren doe that are waked ere they lust to rise. But when a mā hath first begon with his praise (for if he be proude, ye shall muche beter please him with a commendacion than with a dyrige) thā after fauor wonne therwithall, a man maye lytle & lytle insinuate the doubte of suche reuelacions, not at the fyrst as it were, that it were for any doubte of his, but of some other men that in some other places talke of. And peraduenture it shall not miscontent hym selfe to shewe greate perylles that maye fall therin in an other mans case than his own, and shall begynne to preache vpon it.

Or if you were a man that hadde not a scrupulouse conscyence of an harmeles lye, deuysed to doe good w^t all, which kynde. S. Iusten (though he take alway for

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synne, yet he taketh it but for venyal) and. S. Hierome) as by dyuers places of his bokes appeareth) taketh not fully for so muche, than maye you fayne some secrete frend of yours to be in suche case, & y^• your selfe some∣what feare his perell, and haue made of charytye this vyage for his sake to aske this good fathers counsayle. And in y^e cōmunycaciō maye you bringe in these wordes of. S. Iohn. Nolite omni spiritui credere, sed probate spiritus si ex deo sunt Geue not credence vnto euery spirite, but proue whither they be of god. And these wordes of. S. Paule, Angelus Sathane transfigurat se in angelum lucis. The Aungell of Sathan transfygureth him selfe into the Aungell of light, you shall take occasion y^e better if they happe to come in on his owne side, but yet not lacke occasiō neyther if those textes for lacke of his offer come in vpon your owne occasion I saye, shall you not lacke to enquyer, by what sure & vndeceiuable tokens, a mā maye decerne y^e true reuelacions from y^e false illusions, whereof a man shal finde many both here & there, in diuers other authors, & whole together diuerse goodly treatises of that good godly doctor M. Io. Gersō, ent••tuled•• De probatione spirituū. As if y^e pa••ti be natural wyse or any thing seme fantas∣tical, or whither y^e partie be poore spirited or poude, which will somewhat appeare by his delyte in his owne prayse, or if of wylynes, or of an other pryde for to be praysed of humilitie, he re••use to heare therof, yet any litle faulte founde in him selfe or diffidence declared and mistrust of his owne reuelacions & doutfull tokens told, wher∣of him selfe shoulde feare lest they be y^e deuelles illusi∣ons. Suche thinges (as M. Gerson sayth) will make him to spette out somewhat of his spitefull spirite, if the deuill lye in his breste. Or if the deuill be yet so subtyll that he kepe him selfe close in his warme denne, and

blowe out neuer a hote worde, yet is it to be considered what end his reuelacions drawe to, whither to any spi∣rituall profite to him selfe or other folke, or onely to vaine maruayles and wonders. Also, whither they withdrawe him from suche other good verteous busi∣nes, as by the common rules of Christendome, or any rules of his profession he was wont to vse, or were bounde to be occupied in. Or whither he fall into any singularitie of opinions agaynst the scripture of God, or agaynst y^e commō fayth of Chrystes catholique churche, many other tokens are there in that worke of M. Gerson spoken of to considre by, whyther the parsō neyther hauing reuelacions of GOD, nor illusions from the Deuill, doe eyther for winning of moneye•• or wordely fauor, faine his reuelacions him selfe to delude the people withall.

But nowe for our purpose, if amonge any of y^e mar∣kes by which the true reuelacion may be knowen from the false illusions, that maye him selfe bringe forthe for one marke, the doinge or teaching of any thinge agaynst the scripture of GOD, or the com∣mon faythe of the churche, than haue you an entrye made you, by which when you luste you maye entre into y^e speciall matter wherin he can neuer well flitte from you. Or elles maye you if you lus••e, ••ayne y^t your secrete frend, for whose sake you come to him for counsayle, is brought into y^t minde by a certayne apparicion she∣wed vnto him as him selfe ••ayth by an Aungell as you feare by y^e Deuill, that he can be by you none other wayes perswaded as yet, but that the pleasure of God is that he shall kyll him selfe, and that if he so doe, than shall he be therby so speciall partycypant

of Chrystes passion, y^• he shall forthwith be caryed vp with Aungels into heauen, for whiche he is so ioyful, y^• he fyrmelye purposeth vpon it, no lesse glad to doe it, than another man would be glad to voyde it. And ther∣fore maye you desyer his good counsayle, to instructe you with some good substancyall aduyse, wherwith you maye turne him from this error, that he be not vnder hope of gods true reuelacion in body & soule destroyed by y^e deuylles false delusion: if he will in this thing study and labour to instructe you, the thinges that him selfe shall fynd out of his owne inuencion, though they be lesse effectual, shal peraduenture more worke with him selfe toward his owne amendemet, syth he shall of lyke∣lyhod better lyke them, than shall the double substanci∣all thinges tolde by another mā if he be lothe to thinke vpon y^• syde & therfore shrynke from the matter: thā is there none other waye, but aduenture after the playne fashion, to fal into the matter, & shew what you heare, and to geue him counsayle & exhortacion to y^e contrary: but if you luste to saye y^t thus and thus hath y^e matter bene reasoned already betwene your frende and you, and therin may you rehearse suche thinges, y^t shoulde proue that y^e vision which moueth him, is no true reue∣lacion but a false illusion.

Vincent.

Uerely vncle I well alow this, that a man should as well in this thing as euery other, wherin he longeth to do an other man good, seke suche a pleasant waye as the partye shoulde be lykelye to lyke, or at the leaste wyse well to take in worthe his communicacion, and not so to enter in therunto, as he whom he woulde helpe shoulde abhorre him, and be lothe to heare him, and therfore to take no profitte by him.

But nowe Uncle, if it come by the one waye or

the other to y^e poynte to heare me he will or shall: what be y^e reasons effectuall with which I shoulde by coun∣sayle conuert him?

☞Anthony.

All those by which you maye make him per∣ceyue that him selfe is deceyued, and that his visions be no godly reuelacions, but very deuelyshe illusions. And those reasons must you gather of the man, of the matter, and of the lawe of God, or of some one of these. Of the man, if you can peraduenture shewe him that in suche a poynte or suche, he is waxen worse synce suche reuelacions haue haunted him, than he was be∣fore, as in those y^• are deluded, whoso be well acquyna∣ted with them, shall well marke and perceyue, for they waxe more proude, more wayward, more enuious, sus∣picious, mysseiudging, and deprauing other men, w^t they delyte of theyr owne prayse, and suche other spiri∣tuall vices of the soule.

Of y^e matter maye you gather if you haue proued his reuelacion before false, or that they be thinges rather straunge then profytable, for that is a good marke be∣twene Gods myracles and the deuylles wonders, for Chryst and his sayntes haue theyr myracles alwaye tendyng to fruite and profit, the Deuyll and his wit∣ches and Necromancer, all theyr wonderfull workes drawe to no fruteful ende, but to a fruitlesse ostentaciō, & shewe as it were a Iuggler that woulde for a shewe before the people, playe maystryes at a feaste.

Of the lawe of God you must drawe your reasons in shewing by the scripture that the thing which he we∣neth God by his Aungell byddeth, God hath his owne mouthe forbydden, and that is you wote wel in the case that we speake of, so easy to fynde, that I nede not to

rehearse it vnto you, syth there is playne among the .x commaundementes forbydden the vnlawfull killing of any man, and therefore of himselfe as. S. Austen sayeth, and all the churche teacheth, except hymselfe be no man.

Vincent.

This is very true good vncle, nor I will not dispute vpon any glosing of that prohibicion, but syth we fynde not the contrary but that god maye dyspence with that commaundemente himselfe, & both licence and commaunde also if him lust, any man to goe kil ei∣ther an other mā or himselfe eyther: thys mā y^t is now by suche a maruelouse vision induced to beleue y^t God so byddeth hym, & therefore thynketh himselfe in that case of that prohibicion discharged, and charged wyth the contrary commaundement: with what reason may we make hym perceiue that this vision is but an illu∣sion, and not a true reuelacion?

☞Anthony.

Naye Cosin Uincent, you shal not nede in this case to requier those reasons of me: but taking the Scripture of God for a grounde in thys matter, you knowe very well your selfe, you shall goe somewhat a shorter waye to worke if you aske this question of him, that sith god hath forbidden the thyng once hymselfe, though he maye dispence therewith if he will, yet s••th the deuill maye fayne himselfe god, and with a merue∣louse vision delude one, & make as though god did it, & syth the deuill also is more lykely to speake agaynste gods commaundement than god agaynst hys owne: you shall haue good cause I saye, to demaunde of the man hymselfe wherby he knoweth that his vision•• is gods true reuelacion, and not the deuils false delusiō.

☞Vincent.

In dede vncle I thinke that woulde be an hard question for him: maye a man haue vncle in such

a thinge, euen a very sure knowledge in his own mind?

☞Anthony.

Yea Cosyn, God maye caste in the mynde of a man I suppose, suche an inwarde lyghte and vnder∣standyng, that he cannot ••ayle but be sure therof. And yet h•• y^t is deluded by y^e deuill, maye thinke him selfe as sure & yet be deceiued in dede•• And suche a dyfference is there in a maner betwene them, as is betwene the sight of a thing while we be waking & loke theron, & the sight with which we see a thing in our slepe, while we dreame ••herof.

Vincent.

This is a preaty similitude vncle in this thinge, & than is it easy for y^e monke y^t we spake of, to declare howe he knoweth his vision for a true reuelacion, and not a false desusyon, if there be so greate dyfference betwene them.

☞Anthony.

Not so easy Cosin yet as you wene it were, for how can you proue vnto me that you be awake?

Vincent.

Mary lo: doe I not wagge my hand, shake my head, and stampewith my feete here in the ••••ore?

Anthony.

Haue you neuer dreamed ere this, that you haue done the same.

Vincent.

Yes y^t I haue, & more to than y^t, for I haue ere this in my slepe, dreamed that I doubted whyther I were awake or aslepe, and haue in good fayth thought that I dyd therupon euen y^e same thinges that I doe nowe in dede, & therby determined y^t I was not a slepe. And yet haue I dreamed in good fayth farther, that I haue been afterwarde at dyner, & there makinge merye with company, haue tolde y^e same dreame at y^e table & laughed wel therat, y^t while I was aslepe, I had by suche meanes of mouing y^e partes of my bodie, & cōsiderīg therof, so verely thought my selfe waking.

¶Anthony.

And wil you not nowe sone trowe you whan you wake & ryse, laugh as well at your selfe whā you see y^t you lye nowe in your warme bed aslepe agayn

and dreame all this tyme, while you wene so verely, that you be wakyng and talkyng of these matters with me.

☞Vincent.

Goddes lorde vncle, you goe nowe merely to worke with me in dede, when you loke and speake so sadly, and would make me wene I were aslepe.

☞Anthony.

It maye be that you bee so, for any thyng that you can saye or dooe, wherby you maye with any reasō that you can make, driue me to cōfesse that your selfe be sure of the contrary, syth you can doe nor saye nothing nowe, wherby you be sure to be waking, but that you haue ere this, or hereafter maye thinke youre selfe as surely to doe the selfe same thynges in dede, whyle you be all the while a slepe, and nothyng doe but lye dreaming.

☞Vincent.

Well well vncle, thoughe I haue ere thys thoughte my selfe awake, whyle I was in dede aslepe, yet for all thys I knowe wel inough that I am awake nowe, and so doe you to, thoughe I cannot fynde the woordes by which I maye with reason enforse you to confesse it, but that alwaye you may dryue me of by the sample of my dreame.

Antony.

Thys is Cosin as me semeth very true. and likewise semeth me the matter and difference be∣twene some kinde of true reuelacions, and some kinde of false illusions, as it standeth betwene the thynges that are done waking, and the thynges that in our dreames seme to be done whyle we be slepyng: that is to wete, that he which hath that kynde of reuelacion from god, is as sure of the trueth as we be of our owne dede whyle we be wakynge. And he y^t is illuded by the Deuyll, is in suche wyse deceyued, and worse to, than be they by theyr dreame, & yet reckoneth him self as sure for the tyme as the other, sauinge that the one falsely

weneth, and the other truely knowe••h: but I saye not Cosin y^t this kind of sure knowledge, cometh in euery kynd of reuelacion, for there are many kindes wherof were to long to talke nowe, but I say that God doeth, or may doe to man in some thing, certaynly send some such.

Vincent.

Yet than maye this religious man of whom we spake, when I shewe him the Scripture a∣gaynst his reuelacion, (and therfore cal it an illusyon,) bidde me with reason goe care for my selfe, for he kno∣weth well and surely hymselfe that his reuelacion is good and true, and not any false illusion, sith for al the generall commaundemente of god in the Scripture God maye dispence where he will, and whan he wyll, and maye commaunde him to doe the contrarie, as he commaunded Abraham to kil his owne sonne, and as Sampson had by inspiracion of God cōmaundement to kill himselfe with pulling downe the house on hys own head at the feast of y^e Philistines, now if I would doe than, as you bade me right now, goe tell hym that such apparycions were illusions, and sith that goddes worde is in the Scripture agaynst hym playne for the prohibicion: he must proue me the trueth of his reuela∣cion, wherby I may know that it is not a false illusiō. Than shal he aske me again wherby that I can proue my selfe to be awake and talke with him, and not to be aslepe and dreame so, syth in my dreame I maye as surely wene so, as I knowe that I doe so, and thus shall he dryue me to the same baye, to whiche I would bryng hym.

☞Anthony.

This is well sayed Cosin, but yet coulde he not scape you so, for the dispensacion of Goddes com∣mon precept, whiche dispensacion (he must saye that he hath by his reuelaciō) is a thing of such sort as sheweth

it selfe noughte & false: for it neuer hath had any sam∣ple lyke synce the worlde began tyll now, that any mā hath read or heard of among faythfull people commē∣ded. Firste in Abraham as touchyng the death of hys sonne, god entended it not•• but onely tempted the to∣wardnes of the fathers obedience. In Sampson all men make not the matter very sure, whether he be sa∣ued or not, but yet therin some matter & cause appea∣reth, for y^e Philistines beyng enemyes to god, & vsing Sampson for their mocking stocke, in scorne of God, it is well likely that God gaue hym the mynde to be∣s••owe hys own lyfe vpon the reuenging of the displea∣sure ••hat those blasphemous Philistines did vnto god, and that appeareth metely clerely by this, that though hys strength failed hym when he wanted his heere, yet had he not, as it semeth, that strength euermore at hād whyle he had hys heere but at suche tymes as it plea∣sed god to geue it hym•• which thyng appeareth by these wordes that the Scripture in some place of that mat∣ter sayeth. Ir••uit virtus dominni in Sampsonem. The power or myght of god russhed into Sampson, and so therfore whyle thys thyng that he dyd in the pullyng downe of the house, was done by the special gyfte of strength, thā at that point geuen hym by god it well declareth that the strength of god, and therwith the spirite of god en∣tred into him. Therfore. S. Aus••ē also rehearseth that certayne holy verteous virgins in tyme of persecuci∣on, beyng by gods enemies infidels pursued vpon to be de••••oured by force, ranne into a water and drouned themselfe rather than they would be bereued of theyr virginitie: and albeit y^t he thinketh that it is not lawful for any other mayde to folowe their sample, but rather suffer other to dooe her any maner violence by force,

and commit sinne of his own vpon her against her wil, than willingly, and therby synfully herselfe become an homicide of her selfe, yet he thinketh y^• in thē it happed by the speciall instincte of the spirite of god, that for causes sene vnto himselfe, would rather y^t they should auoide it with their own temporal death, than abyde the defyling and violacion of their chastitie. But now thys good man neyther ha••h any of goddes enemyes to be by hys owne death reuenged on, nor any womā that violentli pursue him by force to bereue him of his virginitie: nor neuer fynde we that god proued any mans obedient mynde by the commaundement of his owne slaughter of himselfe, therefore is his case both playne against gods open precept, and the dispensaciō straunge, and without sample no cause appearyng nor well imaginable: but if he would thynke that he coulde no lenger liue without him nor take him ••o him in such wyse as he doeth other men, but commaunde him to come by a forbyddē way, by which wi••hout o••her cause we neuer heard y^t he had any man before: now where you thinke that you should after this, bid hym tel you by what way he knoweth that his entente riseth vpon a true reuelation•• & not vpon a false illusion•• he would bid you than again tel him by what meanes you know that you bee talkyng with hym well wakyng, and not dreame it slepyng. You may tel hym agayn, that men thus talke together as you doe, and in suche maner of wyse they maye proue and perceyue that they so doe by the mouing of themselfe, and wyth putting the que∣stion therof vnto themselfe for their pleasure, and the markynge and consyderyng thereof, is in wakynge a daylye common thing that euery man dooeth or may doe whē he wyl: and whan they doe it, they doe it but

of pleasure, but in slepe it happeth very seld that men dreame that they so doe, nor in their dreame neuer put they question but for doubte, and therefore it is more reason, that whyle his reuelaciō is such also that hap∣peth so seld, and ofter happeth that mē dreame of such, than haue such in dede: therfore it is more reason you maye tell hym, that he shewe you in such a rare thyng, and a thing more lyke a dreame, that himselfe is not a∣slepe, than you in such a common thyng among folke that are waking, and so seldome happyng in a dreame, shoulde nede to shewe him wherby you know that you be not a slepe. Besides this, himself to whō you should shewe it, seeth and perceiueth the thyng that he would byd you proue, but the thing that he woulde make you beleue the trueth of, his reuelacion which you bid him proue, you see not he wotteth wel himselfe: and therfore ere you beleue it agaynst the Scripture, it were well consonante vnto reason that he shoulde shewe you wherby he knoweth it for a true waking reuelaciō, and not for a false dreamyng delusion.

Vincent.

Than shall he peraduenture saye to me agayne, that whether I beleue hym or no••, maketh hym no matter: the thyng toucheth hymselfe and not me, and himselfe is in himselfe as sure that it is a true reuelaciō, as that he can tel that he dreameth not, but talketh with me waking.

☞Antony.

Withoute doubte Cosin, if he abide at that poynt, and can be by no reason brought to doe so much as doubt, and can by no meanes be shugged out of his dead slepe, but will nedes take his dreame for a very trueth, and as some by night rise & walke aboute their chaumber in their slepe, wil so rise and hange himself: I can than no other wayes see, but eyther bynde hym

fast in hys bedde, or els assaye whether that myghte happe to helpe him, wyth which the cōmon tale goeth that a caruers wyfe in such a frantyque fantasy, holpe her husband, to whome when he tolde he woulde vpon a good fryday nedes haue killed him selfe for Christes sake, as Christe was killed for him, she would not in vayn•• pleade against his minde, but well and wyselye put him in remembraunce, that if he woulde dye for Christe as Christe dyed for hym, it were then conueni∣ent for him to dye euen after the same fashion, and y^t might not be by hys owne handes, but by the hand of some other: for Christe pardye killed not him selfe, and because her husband shoulde nede to make no moe of∣counsayle (for that he woulde not in no wyse) she of¦fred him that for goddes sake she woulde secretly her selfe crucifye him on a great crosse, that he had made to nayle a great crucifixe vpon, wherof when he was verye glad, yet she bethoughte her that Chryste was bounde to a pyller and beaten fyrste, and after crow∣ned wyth thorne, wherupon when she hadde by hys owne assente bounde hym fast to a poste, she lefte not beatyng wyth holye exhortacion to suffer so muche and so longe, that or euer she lefte worke and vn∣bounde hym, praying him neuerthelesse y^t she myghte put on his head, and dryue it well down, a crowne of thorne that she had wrythē for him, and brought hym: he said he thought that was inough for that yere, he woulde praye GOD to forbeare him of the remnaunt ••yl good friday come againe. But whē it came againe the next ye••e, than was his lus••e paste, he longed to folowe Chryste no far••her.

Vincent.

In dede vncle if this helpe him not, than wyl nothing helpe him I trowe.

Antony.

And yet Cosin, paraduenture the deuill might make him towarde suche a purpose first gladly firste suffer other payne, and minishe hys feeling to therin, that he maye therby y^e lesse feare hys death, & yet are peraduenture somtime suche thinges & many moe to be assaide. For as y^e deuil may hap to make him suffer, so maye he hap to misse, namely if his frēdes fal to praier against his tēptaciō, for y^t can him self neuer do, while he taketh it for none. But for conclusion, if y^e man be surely proued, & so inflexibly set vpon the pur∣pose to destroye hym selfe, as commaūded thereto by god, that no good counsaile that mē can geue him, nor any other thing that men maye doe to hym, can re∣fraine him, but that he would shortly kyl him selfe, thā except onely good prayer made by his frendes for him, I can fynde no farther shifte•• but euer haue him in sighte, or binde him fast in hys bedde. And so mu••••e he nedes of reason be cōtent so to be ordered, for though him selfe take his fātasye for a true reuelaciō, yet syth he can not make vs perceyue it for suche, like wyse as he thinketh him selfe by his secret commaundement bounden to folowe it, so must he nedes agree, that sith it is against the playn prohibicion of god, we be by the playne open precept bound to kepe him from it.

Vincent.

In this point vncle I can goe no farther: but nowe if he were on y^e other side perceiued to mind his distruc∣ciō, & to goe there about w^t heauines of heart, thought & dulnes, what way wer there to be vsed with him thē?

¶Anthony.

Then were his tēptacion as I tolde you be∣fore, properly pertaynyng to our matter, for than were he in a sore tribulacion, & a verye peryllous, for than were it a tokē y^t the deuil had eyther by bringing hym into some great sinne, broughte him into dispayre, or peraduenture his reuelaciōs foundē false & reproued,

or by some secret sinne of his diuulged and deprehen∣ded cast him both in dispayre of heauen thorowe feare, and in a wearines of this life for shame, sith he seeth his estimaciō lost amōg other folke, of whose praise he was wont to be proude: & therefore Cosin, in such case as thys is, the man is to be fayre handled and swetely, and wyth dowce and tender louing wordes to be put in good courage, & comforted in al that mē godly may. And here must they put hym in mynde, that if he dys∣payre not, but pull vp his courage, and trust in goddes great mercye, he shall haue in conclusion great cause to be glad of this fal, for before he stoode in greater perill then he was ware of, while he tooke him selfe for better thā he was, and god for ••auour that he bare him hath suffered hym to fall depe into the Deuills ••aunger, to make hym therby knowe what he was, while he tooke him selfe for so sure, and therfore as he suffered hym than to fall for a remedye against ouer boulde pride, so wyl god nowe (if the man meken hym selfe•• not wyth vnfrutefull dyspayre, but w^t frutefull penaūce) so set him vp againe vpō his fete, & so streng∣then hym wyth his grace, y^t for this one fal y^t the deuill hath geuen him, he shal geue the deuil an hundreth. And here must he be put in remembraunce of Marye Magdalene, of the prophet Dauid, and specyally of Saint Peter, whose high bolde courage tooke a foule fall, and yet because he dispayred not of gods mercye. but wept and called vpon it, howe highly God tooke him into his fauour again, in his holy scripture is wel testified & wel through christēdome knowē: & now shal it be charitably done, if some good verteous folke suche as him selfe somewhat estemeth, and hath afore longed to stande in estimacion wyth, doe resorte some tyme vnto hym, not onelye to geue hym counsayle,

But also to aske aduise and counsayle of him, in some cases of their owne conscience•• to let him thereby per∣ceiue that they no lesse esteme him nowe, but rather more than they dyd before, sith they thinke him nowe by this fal better expert of the deuilles craft, and ther∣by not onely better instructed him self but also better able to geue good counsaile and aduise to other. This thing wyll in my minde, wel amende and lifte vp hys courage from the perel of that desperate shame.

☞Vincent.

Me thinketh vncle that thys were a peri∣lous thing. For it may peraduenture make him sette the lesse by his fall, and therby cast hym into his fyrste pride, or into hys other sinne againe: the falling wher∣unto draue him into this dispayre.

☞Antony.

I doe not meane Cosin, that euerye foole should at aduenture fall in hand wyth him, for so loe might it happe for to doe harme in dede. But Cosin, if a cunning Phisicion haue a man in hand, he can wel disserne whan and howe longe some medicine is ne∣cessarye, whych at an other tyme mynistred or at that tyme ouerlonge continued might put the pacyent in peryl, for if he haue his pacient in an agewe, to y^e cure wherof he nedeth his medicines in theyr workīg, cold: yet if he happe ere that feuer be full cured to fall into some such other dysease, as except it were holpen with hote medicines, were lykely to kyll the bodye before the feuer coulde be cured, he woulde for the while haue his most care to the cure of y^t thing wherin were most present peril, & whan y^t were once out of ieopardye, doe than y^e more except diligence after, about y^e farther cure of the feuer. And likewise, if y^e ship were in perill to fall into Scilla, y^e feare of falling into Charibdys, on the other side, shall neuer let any wyse mayster

therof, to drawe him frō Scilla towarde Charibdys first of al, in al y^t euer he may. But when he hath hym once so farre frō Scylla, y^t he seeth him selfe out of y^t daunger, thē wil he begin to take hede to kepe him wel frō y^e other: & likewise whē this mā is falling downe to dyspayre & to y^e final distrucciō of hym selfe, a good wise spiritual leache wil first looke vnto y^t, & by good comfort lifte vp his courage, & when he seeth y^t perill wel past, care for y^e cure of his other faultes after: how∣beit, euen in y^e geuing of his cōfort, he may find waies inough in such wise to tēpre his wordes, y^t the mā may take occasiō of good courage, & yet farre from occasiō geuing, of more recidiuaciō into his former sinne, sith y^e great part of his coūsaile shal be to courage him to a∣mēdmēt, & that is pardy farre frō falling to sin again.

☞Vincent.

I thinke Uncle that folke fall into this vn∣gracious minde throwe the deuilles temptaciō by ma∣ny moe meanes than one.

Antony.

That is Cosin very true, for the deuill ta∣keth his occasions as he seeth them fal meete for him. Some he stirreth to it through werynes of them selfe after some great losse, some for feare of bodely harme, and some as I saide, for feare of worldly shame. One wyst I my selfe which had beene longe reputed for an honest man, which was fallen in such a fantasye, that he was welnere worne awaye therwith: but what he was tempted to doe, y^t would he tel no man, but he told vnto me y^t he was sore combred, & that it alway ran in his mind y^t folkes fātasies were fallen frō him, and y^t they estemed not his wit as they were wont to doe, but euer his mynde gaue him that the people begā to take him for a foole, & folke of trouth did no thing so at all, but reputed him both for wise and honest. Two other

knewe I that were marueilouslye afrayde that they should kyll them selfe, & coulde tel me no cause wher∣fore they so feared it, but onely that theyr owne mynd so gaue them, neyther losse had they anye•• nor no such thing toward them, nor none occasion of any worlde∣ly shame, the one in bodye very well liking and lussy, & wonderous wearye were they bothe twayne of that mynde, and alwaye they thought y^t doe it they woulde not for no thing, but neuerthelesse they euer feared they shoulde, and wherefore they so both feared, ney∣ther of them both could tell, & the one le••t he shoulde doe it, desyred is frendes to binde him.

¶Vincent.

This is vncle a meruelouse straūge maner.

☞Antony.

Forsoth Cosin I suppose that many of thē are in this case the deuill as I sayde before seketh his occasions. For as. S. Peter sayth, Diabolus tanquam leo ru∣gens circuit querens quem deuoret. The deuil as a roaring Lyon goeth about seking whome he maye deu••ure. He mar∣keth well the state and the condicion that euerye man s••andeth in, not onely concerninge these outwarde thinges, as lādes, possessiōs, goodes, autoritie, fame, fauour or hatred of the worlde, but also mennes com∣plexcions within them, as helth, or sicknes, good hu∣mors or badde, by whych they be lyght harted or lum∣pyshe, stronge harted or faynt, or fieble of spiryte, bold, hardye or tymerouse, & feareful of courage, & after as these thinges minister him matter of tētaciō, so vseth he him selfe in the maner of his temptacion.

Nowe likewise as in such folke that are full of yong warme lustie bloud, & other humors exciting the fleshe to filthy voluptuouse liuing, the deuill vseth to make those thinges his instrumētes in tempting them & in prouoking thē therūto: & where he findeth some folke ful of hote bloud & coler, he maketh those humors hys

instrumētes to set their hartes on fyre, in wrath & ve∣ry fierce furious angre, so where he findeth some folk which thorow some dul melancoliouse humors are na∣turally disposed to feare, he casteth sometime suche a feareful imaginacion in their minde, y^t without helps of god they can neuer cast it out of theyr heartes. Some at the sodain fall of some horrible thought in∣to ther mind, haue not onely had a great abhominaciō therat (which abhominacion they we••l and verteous∣ly had therat) but the deuil vsing theyr melancolious humor (& therby theyr natural inclinaciō to feare) for his instrumente, hath caused thē to conceyue there w^t such a depe drede beside, y^t thei wene thēself w^t that ab∣hominable thought, to be fallen into such an outragi∣ous sinne, y^t thei be ready to fal into despayre of grace, wening y^t god hath geuē them ouer for euer, whereas that thought (were it neuer so horrible & so abhomi∣nable) is yet vnto them y^t neuer lyke it, but euer styll abhorre it & striue stil there against, matter of cōflict & me••ite, & not any sine at al. Some haue with holding a knyfe in their hand••s, thought sodeynlye vpon the killing of thēselfe, & forthw^t in deuising what an hor∣rible thing it wer if they should mishap so to doe, haue fallē into a feare y^t they should so do in dede, & haue w^t oftē thinking theron, imprinted y^t feare so sore in their imagin••ciō y^t some of them haue not ca••••e it of w^tout greate difficulty, and some could neuer in their life be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ridde therof but haue after in cōclusiō miserably doone it in dede: but likwise as where the deuill vse••h the bloud of a mannes bodye towarde hys purpose in prouoking to leacherye, the man muste and doeth with gra••e and wysedome resyste it, so muste that man doe whose melancolyous humors y^• deuyl abuseth to∣ward

y^• casting of such a desperate dread into his hart.

Vincent.

But I praye you vncle, what aduice were to be geuē him in such case?

Anthony.

Surely me thinketh hys helpe standeth in two thinges, counsayle & prayer. First as cōcerning coūsayle, likewise as it may be y^t he hath two thynges y^t hold hym in hys tēptacion, y^t is to wete, some euyl humors of his owne body, & the cursed deuill y^t abuseth thē to his pernicious purpose, so must he nede against thē twaine, y^e coūsaile of two maner of folke: y^t is to wete, phisiciōs for y^e bodye, & phisiciōs for y^e soule: y^e bodyly phisiciō shal cōsider what aboūdance y^• man hath of those euil humors y^t the deuil maketh his instrumētes of, in mouing y^e mā toward y^e feareful af∣feccion, & aswel by dyet conuenēt, & medicines mete therefore, to resyst them, as by purgacions to disbur∣daine the bodye of thē, nor let no mā thinke straūge y^t I would aduise a man to take counsayle of a phisiciō for the bodye in suche a spirituall passion. For syth y^e soule and the body be so knytte and ioyned together, that they both make betwene them one person, the dis∣temperaunce of either other engendreth sumtime the distemperaunce of both twaine. And therfore, like as I would aduise euery mā in euery sicknes of y^e bodye to be shriuen and seke a good sprituall phisiciō y^e sure helth of his soule, which shal not onely serue againste perel y^t may peraduēture farther growe by y^t sicknes, thā in y^e beginning mē would wene were likely: but y^e cōfort therof & gods fauour encreasing there w^t, shall also doe y^e body good for which cause y^e blessed Apo••••le exorteth mē y^t they should in their bodilye sicknes, in∣duce y^e priestes, & sayth y^t it should doe thē good both in body & soule, so woulde I sumtime aduise some mē in some sicknes of y^e soule, beside their spiritual leach, take

also some counsaile of the phisiciō for the body. Some that are wretchedly disposed, and yet long to be more viciouse than they be, goe to phisicions and poticaries, and enquire what thynges maye serue to make them more lusty to their foule ••••eshely delite: and were it thā any foly vpon the other side, if he that feleth hymselfe against his will muche moued vnto suche vnclennes, should enquire of the phisicion what thinges without minishing of his health, were meete for y^e minishmēt of such foule fleshely mocion? Of spirituall counsaile, the first is to be shriuen, that by reason of hys other synnes the deuill haue not the more power vpon hym.

Vincent.

I haue heard some saye vncle, that when suche folke haue been at shryft, their temptacion hath been more brymme vpon them than it was before.

Antony.

That thynke I very well, but that is a speciall token that shrifte is holesome for them, whyle the deuill is with that most wroth. You fynde in some places of the gospell, that the deuill (the parson whom he possessed) dyd most trouble when he saw that Christ would cast hym out, we must els let the deuil doe what he wyll, if we feare his anger, for with euerye good dede he wyl waxe angrie: than is it in hys shryft to be shewed hym, that he not onely feareth more than he nedeth, but also feareth where he nedeth not, and ouer that is sorye of that thing wherof (but if he wyll wyl∣lyngly turne hys good into his harme) he hath more cause to be glad. First if he haue cause to feare, yet fea∣reth he more than he nedeth, for there is no deuil so diligent to destroy hym. as god is to preserue him, nor no deuil so nere him to doe him harme, as god is to doe hym good: nor all the deuils in hel so strong to inuade hym and assaulte hym, as god is to defende hym, if he

distrust him not, but faythfully put his trust in hym. He feareth also where he nedeth not: for where he dredeth that he were out of goddes fauoure, because such hor∣rible thoughtes fall into hys mynde, let hym consider, that syth they fal into hys mynde agaynst hys wil, they be therfore not imputed vnto hym. He is finally sadde of y^t he maye be glad: for sith he taketh such though••es displeasauntly, and striueth and fighteth agaynst thē, he hath therby a good token y^t he is in goddes fauour, and that god assisteth hym and helpeth hym, and maye make himselfe sure, that so wil god neuer cease to doe, but if himselfe fayle and fall from hym fyrst: and ouer that, this conflict y^t he hath against his temptaciō, shall (if he will not fall where he nedeth not) be an occasion of his merite, and a right great reward in heauen: and the payne that he taketh therin, shall for so muche (as Master Gerson well sheweth) stande hym in steade of hys purgatory. The maner of the fight agaynste thys temptaciō, must stand in three thynges: that is to wete, in resisting, and in contemning, and in the inuocaci∣on of helpe: resist must a man for his own parte by rea∣son, consyderyng what a foly it were to fall where he nedeth not, whyle he is not dryuen to it in aduoidyng of any other payne, or in hope of winning any maner o•• pleasure: but contrariwise should by that payne, lese euerlastyng blisse, and fall into euerlasting paine, and if it were in auoyding of other great payne, yet coulde he voyde none so great therby, as he shoulde therby fal into. He must also consider, that a greate parte of thys temptacion is in effecte, but the feare of hys own fan∣tasy, the dreade that he hath lest he shall once be driuē to it, which thing he may be sure y^t, but if himselfe wyll of his own foly, al the deuils in hel can neuer driue him

to•• but his own folishe imaginacion maye: For lyke as some man going ouer an high brydge, waxeth so fraide thorowe hys own fantasy, that he falleth down in dede which were els able inough to passe ouer without any daunger: and as some men shall vpon suche a brydge, if folke cal vpon him, you fall, you fall fall with y^e fan∣tasy that he taketh therof, which bridge if folke looked merely vpon hym, and sayd, there is no daunger ther∣in, he would passe ouer well inough, and would not let to runne therō though it were but a fote brode. Thus fare••h it in this temptacion, the deuil findeth the man of hys own fonde fantasy afraide, and than cryeth he in the eare of hys hearte, thou fallest thou fallest, and maketh the ••onde man afrayde that he shoulde at eue∣ry fote fall in dede, and the deuil so wearieth hym with that continuall feare (if he geue the care of hys hearte vnto hym) that at the last he draweth hys mynde from the due remembraunce of god, and than driueth him to that deadli mischief in dede. Therefore, like as against the vice of the fleshe, y^e victory stādeth not al whole in the fight, but also some tyme in the flight, sauing that it is in dede the parte of a wyse warriours fyghte, to flie from hys enemyes traynes, so must a man in thys temptacion to, not onely resist it alwaye wyth reaso∣ning there agaynst, but some time set it cleane at right naught, and cast it of when it cometh, and not once re∣garde it, so muche as vouchesafe to thynke thereon. Some folke haue been clearely rydde of such pestilent fantasyes with very full contempt thereof, makyng a crosse vpō their heartes bydding y^• deuil auaunte, and some tyme laugh him to scorne to, & than turne theyr mynd vnto some other matter, and whē the deuil hath sene y^t they haue set so litle by hym, after many assayes

made in suche tymes as he thought most mete, he hath geuen that temptaciō quite ouer, both for that y^e proud spirite cannot indure to be mocked, and also lest with much tempting the man to the same, whereunto he could not in conclusion bryng him, he shoulde muche therby encrease hys merite: the finall fight is by inuo∣cacion of god, both by praying for himself, and desiring other also to praye for hym, both poore folke for his al∣mose, & other for their charitie, specially good priestes in that holy sacred seruice of the masse, and not onely them, but also his owne good aungels, and other holye saintes, such as his deuocion standeth specially vnto. And if he be learned, let him vse the Letanie with the holy suffrages that folowe, whiche is a prayer in the churche of maruelouse olde antiquitie, not made firste as some wene it were by that holy man. S. Gregory, whiche opinion rose of that, that in the tyme of a great pes••ilence in Rome, he caused the whole citie to goe in solemne prosessiō therwith, but it was in vse in the churche many yeres before. S. Gregoryes dayes, as wel appereth by the bookes of other olde holy doctors and sainctes that were dead hundrethes of yeares be∣fore. S. Gregory was borne. And holy. S. Barnard geueth counsayle that euery man shoulde make sute to aungels and saynctes to pray for hym to god in the thynges that he woulde haue sped at hys holy hande, if any man will sticke at that, and saye it nedes not, be∣cause god can heare vs hymselfe, and wil also say, that it is perilous so to doe, because they saye we be not so counsayled by no Scripture, I will not dispute the matter here, he that wyll not doe it, I lette hym not to leaue it vndone: but yet for myne own part I wyll as wel trust to the counsaile of. S. Barnarde, and reckē

hym for as good and as wel learned in y^e holy Scrip∣ture, as any man that I heare say the cōtrary, and bet∣ter dare I ieopard my soule with the soule of Sainct Barnarde, than with his that findeth that fault in his doctryne: vnto god himselfe euery man counsayleth to haue recourse aboue all, and in this temptacion to haue speciall remembraunce of Christes passion, and praye hym for the honor of his death, the grounde of mans saluacion, to kepe the parson thus tempted from that dānable death: special vearsis may there be drawē out of the Psalter against the deuils wycked temptaci∣ons, as for example. Exurgat deus & dissipentur inimici eius. & fugi∣ant qui oderunt eum a facie eius: and many other whiche are in such hor••ible temptacion to god most pleasaunte, & to the deuil very terrible, but none more terrible, nor none more odious to the deuill, than the wordes with which oure sauiour draue hym awaye himselfe. Vade Sathana, nor no praier more acceptable vnto god, nor more effectual for y^• matter, than those wordes which our sauiour hath taught himselfe. Ne nos inducas in temptationem, sed libera nos a malo. And I doubt not by gods grace, but he that in suche a temptacion wil vse good counsayle and prayer, & kepe himself in good verteous busines and good vert••ous company, & abyde in y^• faithful hope of gods helpe, shal haue y^e trueth of god (as the Prophet saith in y^e vearse afore rehearsed) so compasse hym aboute with a pauice, that he shall not nede to dreade this nightes feare of thys wicked temptaciō: & thus wyl I finishe this piece of y^e nightes feare, and glad am I that we be passed it, and come once vnto the daye to those other woordes of the Prophet, A sagitta volante in die, for me thinketh I haue made it a long night.

¶The .xvii. Chapter.

☞Vincent.

FOrsoth vncle so haue you, but we haue not slept in it, but been very well occupied. But nowe I feare except you make here a pause til you haue dined, you shal kepe your self frō your diner ouerlong.

Antony.

Nay nay Cosin, for both brake I my fast euē as you came in, & also you shal fīd this night & this day lyke a winter day & a wynter nighte. For as the winter hath shorte daies, & long nightes, so shall you fynd y^t I made not this fearefull night so long but I shal make you this light couragious day as short, & so shal y^e mat∣ter require wel of it self in dede: for in these wordes of y^e prophete. Scuto circundabit te veritas eius, a sagitta volante in die. y^e trueth of god shal cōpasse thee about w^t a pauice, frō y^e arrow flying in y^• day, I vnderstand the arrowe of pride, with whiche the deuil tem••teth a man not in y^e night in all tribulacion & aduersitie, for y^t tyme is to discōfortable and to feareful for pryde, but in the day y^t is to wete, in prosperitie, for y^t tyme is lightsome, lus••y, & full of cou∣rage: but surely this worldly prosperitie wherin a man ••••ioiseth, & whereof the deuil maketh him so proude, is but euen a very short wīter day, for we beginne many ful poore & colde, & vp we flye like an arrowe that were shotie vp into y^e ayre: & yet when we be sodeinli shotte vp ••nto the highest, ere we be wel warme there, down we come vnto the cold ground again, & then euē there s••icke we stil, & yet for the shorte whyle y^t we be vpward and a loft, lord how lusty & how proude we be, buzzing aboue busily like as a bumble bee flieth about in som∣mer, neuer ware y^t he shall dye in wynter: and so fare many of vs God helpe vs, for in the short winter day of worldly wealth & prosperitie, thys flying arrowe of the deuil, this high spirite of pride shotte out of y^e deuils ••owe, & pearsing thorow our hearte, beareth vs vp in

our affeccion aloft into y^e cloudes where we wene we sit vpon y^• raine bowe, & ouerloke al y^e world vnder vs, accompting in y^e regard of our own glory, suche other poore soules as were peraduenture wont to be our fel∣lowes, for sely poore pismyres & antes: but this arrowe of pride flie it neuer so high into y^e cloudes & be the mā that it carieth vp so high, neuer so ioyful thereof, yet let him remembre, y^t be this arrowe neuer so light, it hath yet an heauy yron head, & therfore flye it neuer so high, down must it nedes come at last, and on the grounde must it lighte, & falleth sometime not in a very cleanly place, & ••hē y^e pride turneth into rebuke & shame, so that there is thā al y^e glori gone. Of this arrow speaketh y^e wise mā in the .v. Chapter of Sapi••̄ce, where he saith in the parsō of them that in pryde and vanitie passed the time of this present lyfe, & after y^t so spente, passed hence into hel•• Quid prosuit nobis superbia aut diuitiarum iactantia? quid con••ulit nobis? Transieri nt omnia illa tanquam v••bra &c. Aut taquam sagitta emissa in locum d••stinatum diuisus aer contin••o in se recl••su•• est, vt ignoretur tran••••ens illius, sic & nos nati conunuo desiuimus es••e, & virtutis quidem null••m s••g∣num valuimus ostendere, in mal gu. tate au••em nostra cosumpti sumus Talia dixe∣run••in inferno hi qui peccauerurt. what hath pryde profyted vs, or that good hath the glory of our riches done vs•• passed are al these thinges like a shadow, &c, or like an arrow shotte cute into the place appointed, the aier y^t was de∣uided, is by & by returned into the place, & in such wyse closed together again that the way is not perceiued, in which y^e arrow went: & in lik••wise we, as soone as we be borne, be by & by vanished away, & haue left no tokē of any good vertue behind vs•• but are cōsumed & wasted & come to nought in our own malignitie: they loe y^t haue li••ed here in sinne, such wordes haue they spoken whē thei lay in hel. Here shal you good Cosī cōsider, y^t where as the scripture here speaketh of y^e arrowe shotte in his place appointed or entēded in the sho••••••g of his arrow o•• pryde, therby diuerse purpo••īges & appointmentes••

For the proude man himselfe, hath no certayn purpose or appointmente at any marke, butte or pricke, vpon the heartes wherat he determineth to shoote, & there to sticke & tary, but euer he shooteth as chyldren doe that loue to shoote vp a cop hie to see howe hie their a••rowe can flye vp, but nowe doeth the deuill entende and ap∣point a certayne pricke surely set in a place, into which he purposeth (flie this arrow neuer so hie, and y^e proud heart theron) to haue them light both at last, and that place is euen in y^e very pit of hel, there is set the deuils wel acquainted pricke and his very iust marke down, vpon which prycke with hys prickyng shafte of pryde, he hath by hymselfe a plain proofe and experience, that (but if it be stopped by some grace of god in the waye) the soule that flieth vp therwith, can neuer faile to fal. For whan himselfe was in heauen and began to flye vp a cop hie, with that lusty light flight of pride, saying: Ascendam super astra & ponam solium meum ad latera aquilonis, & similis ero al∣tissimo. I wil flie vp aboue y^e starres, & set my throne on the sides of the north, and wil be like vnto the highest, long ere he coulde flye halfe so hye as in his hearte he sayd he would, he was turned from a gloryous bryght Angel, into a blacke defourmed deuil: and from flying any farther vpwarde, downe was he throwen into the depe darke doungeō of hel. Now may it paraduenture Cosin seme, that sith thys kynd of temptacion of p••ide, is no tribulacion or payne, all this y^t we speake of thys arrowe of pryde, flying forth in the daye of prosperitie, were beside our matter.

Vincent.

Uerely myne vncle, and so semed it vnto me, & somewhat was I mīded so to say to you to, sauing y^t were it properli pertainīng to the presente matter, or somewhat disgressing therfro: good matter me thought it was, & such as I had no lust

to let.

Antony.

But nowe muste you Cosin, consydre, that though prosperitie be contrary to tribulacion, yet vnto many a good mā, the deuils temptaciō vnto pride in prosperitie, is a greater more tribulaciō, & nede hath of good coūsaile and good comfort both, thā he that ne∣uer felt it would wene, and that is y^e thing Cosin that maketh me speake therof, as of a thyng propre to this matter. For Cosin, as it is a thīg right hard to touche pytche & neuer fyle the fingers, to put flex vnto fyer, and yet kepe if from burning, to kepe a serpent in thy bosome, and yet be safe frō stinging, to put young men with young women, without daunger of foule fleshlye desire: so is it hard for any parsō, either mā or womā, in great worldly wealth and much prosperitie, so to with∣stande the suggestions of the deuil, and the occasions geuen by y^e world, that they should kepe them selfe frō the deadly desyre of ambicious glory, wherupon there foloweth, if a man fal therto, an whole floud of all vn∣happy mischief, arrogant maner, high solaine solemne port ouerloking y^e poore in worde and countenaunce, displeasaunt and disdainouse behauour, rauen, extorci∣o••, oppression, hatred, & crueltie: now many a good mā Cosin comē into great aucthoritie, casting in his mind the peril of such occasions of pryde as y^e deuil taketh of prosperitie to make his instrumentes of, wherwith to moue mē to such high point of presumpcion, as engen∣dreth so many great inconueniences, & feling y^e deuill therwith offering to thēself suggestions therunto, they be sore troubled therwith, & some fal so fraide therof, y^t euē in y^e day of prosperitie they fal into y^e nightes feare of pusillanimitie, & doubteth ouer much lest thei should misse vse thēselfe, leaue y^e thinges vndone, wherin the night vse thēself wel, and mistrusting the ayde of god

in holding them vprighte in their temptacions, geue place to the deuill in the contrary temptacions, wher∣by for faynte heart, they leaue of good busines wherin they were well occupyed, & vnder pretext (as it semeth to themself) of humble heart and mekenes, and seruing god in contemplacion and silence they seke their own ease & earthly reste vnware wherwith, (if it so be) god is not wel content: howbeit, if it so be that a man fele hymselfe such in dede as by experience that he hath of hymselfe, he perceyueth that in wealth & auctoritie he doth hys own soule harme, and cannot doe therin, the good that to hys part appertaineth, but seeth y^e thinges that he should set hys hand to sustaine, decaye thorow his default, and fal to ruine vnder him, and that to the amendment therof, he leaueth his own dutye vndone: than would I in any wise aduise him to leaue of that thyng, be it spirituall benefise that he haue, personage or bishoprike, or temporall roume and auctoritie, and rather geue it ouer quite, and drawe hymselfe asyde and serue god, than take the worldli worship and com∣moditie for himselfe, with the incommoditie of them whom his duety were to profite. But on the other side, i•• he see not y^e contrarye, but that he may doe his duety conueniently w••ll, and feareth nothynge but that the temptacyon of ambicion and pryde, may turne perad∣uenture his good purpose, and make him decline vn∣to synne, I saye not naye, but that well done it is to stande in modera••e feare alwaye, wherfore the Scrip∣ture saieth•• Beatus homo qui semper est pauidus. Blessed is the mā that is alwaie feareful. And. S. Paul saieth: Qui stat, v••∣deat ne cadat, he that standeth lette him loke that he fal not. Yet is o••er much feare perilouse, and draweth toward the mistruste of Goddes gracyous helpe with immo∣derate feare & faynte hearte: and holy Scripture

forbiddeth saying: Noli esse pus••llanimis, be not fieble hearted or timerouse. Let such a mā therfore temper his feare with good hope, and thinke that syth god hath s••t him in that place (if he thinke that god hath set hym therin) god wil assist hym with his grace to y^• well vsing ther∣of: howbeit, if he come therto by simoni, or by some such o••her euil meane, thā were that thing one good reasō wherfore he should y^e rather leaue it of, but els let him continue in his good busynes, & agaynst the deuils pro∣uocaciō vnto euil, blesse hymself & cal vnto god, & pray: and loke what thyng the deuil tempteth hym to leaue, the more towarde the contrary, let hym be pitiouse and comfortable to those that are in distresse and af••••icci∣on, I meane not let euery malefactor passe foorth vn∣punished and freli runne out and robbe at rou••rs, but in hys heart be sory to see that of necessitie for feare of decaying the cōmon wealth, men are dryuen to putte malefactors to payn. And yet where he fyndeth good tokens and likelyhode of amendement, therin al that he maye helpe that mercy may be had, there shal neuer lacke desperatly disposed wretches inough besyde, vpō whom for ensaumple iustice mai procede, let him thinke in hys owne heart euery poore begger hys felowe.

Vincent.

That will be verye hard vncle for an hono∣rable mā to doe, whā he beholdeth hymself richely ap∣pareled and the begger rygged in hys ragges.

☞Antony.

If here were Cosin two menne that were beggers both, and afterwarde a greate riche manne woulde take the one vnto hym, and tell him that for a litle time, he woulde haue hym in hys house, and there∣vpon arayed hym in silke, and geue hym a greate bagge by hys syde fylled euen full of golde, but ge∣uyng hym thys knotte therewyth, that within a

litle while, out he should in his olde ragges again, and beare neuer a penny with him. If this begger met hys fellowe nowe while his gaye gown were on, mighte he not for al his gaye geare take him for his fellow stil? and were he not a very foole, if for a wealth of a fewe wekes, he would wene himself farre hys better?

Vincent.

Yes by my trouth vncle, if the difference of their state were none other.

☞Antony.

Surely Cosin, me thynketh y^• in this world betwene the richest and the most poore, y^e difference is scant so much: for let y^e highest loke on y^e most bace, and consider how poore thei came both into this world, and than consider farther therwith, how riche soeuer he be now, he shal yet within a while, peraduenture lesse thā one wieke, walke out again as poore as y^• begger shal, and thā by my trouth me thinketh this riche mā much more than madde•• if for y^e welth of a litle while, happely lesse than one wieke, he reckē hymselfe in earnest, any better than the beggers fellow: and lesse than this can no man thynke that hath any natural witte, & wyl vse it. But now a Christē man Cosyn that hath y^e lyght of faith, he cannot faile to thinke in this thing much far∣ther, for he wil thinke not onely vpō his bare coming hither, & his bare going hence again, but also vpon the dreadful iudgemēt of god, & vpon y^e feareful paines of hel, and of the inestimable ioyes of heauen. And in the cōsidering of those thynges, he wil cal to remēbraunce that paraduenture when this begger & he be both de∣parted hence, y^e begger may be sodeynly set vp in such roialtie, y^• wel were himselfe y^t euer was he borne if he might be made his felow: & he that wel be thinketh him Cosin vpon these thinges, I verely thynke that the arrowe of pryde flying forth in y^• day of worldly welth,

shal neuer so wounde hys heart that euer it shal beare hym vp one fote. But now to the entent he may thinke on such thinges y^e better, let him vse often to resort to confession, & there opē his heart, & by y^e mouth of some good verteous gostly father haue such thinges ofte renued in hys remembraunce, let him also choose him selfe some secret solitary place in hys owne house as farre from noise & compani as he cōueniently can, and thither let him some time secretly resort alone, imagi∣ning himself as one going out of y^e world, euē straight vnto the geuing vp of hys reckoning vnto god, of hys sinneful liuīg: thā let him there before an altar••, ••r some pitiful Image of Christes bitter passiō, the beholding wherof may put him in remembraunce of the thing, and moue hym to deuout cōpassyon•• and there knele down or fal prostrate, as at the feete of almyghtie god, verely beleuyng him to be there inuisibly presente, as without any doubt he is: there let him open his heart to god & cōfesse his faultes such as he can cal to mind, & pray god of forgeuenes. Let him also cal to remēbraunce the be∣nefites y^e god hath geuē him, either ingeneral among other men, or priuately to hymself, and geue hym hum∣ble harty thankes therfore: there let him declare vnto god the temptacions of the deuil, the suggestiōs of the fleshe, thoccasions of y^• world & of his worldli frendes•• much worse many times in drawyng a man from god, than are hys most mortall enemyes, which thing oure Sauiour witnesseth himselfe where he sayth•• Inimici ho∣minnis domes••iei eius, the enemyes of a man are they that are hys own familiers, there let him lament and bewayle vnto god his own frailtie, negligence, and slouth in re∣sisting and withstanding of temptacion, hys readines and pronitie to fall thereunto, there lette him beseche

god of his gracious aide & helpe to strēgth his infirmi∣tie w^tal•• both in keping him frō falling: & whā he by his own faultes misfortuneth to fal, than w^t y^e helping hād of his merciful grace to lift him vp & set him on his fete in y^e state of his grace again, & let this mā not doubt, but that god heareth him & graūteth him gladly this boone, and so dwel••ng in the faythfull trust of gods helpe, he shal wel vse his prosperite, & perseuer in his good pro∣fitable busynes, & shal haue therin y^e truth of god so cō∣passe him about w^t a pauice of his heauēly defence, that of y^e d••uils arrow ••••ying in y^• day of worldly wealth, he shal not nede to dreade.

Vincent.

Forsoth vncle I like this good coūsaile wel, & I would wene y^• such as are in prosperitie, & take such ordre therin, mai doe both to thē self & other folke about much good.

¶Antony.

I beseche our lord Cosin, put this & better in y^e mind of eueri man that nedeth it: & now wil I touche one word or twain of the third tēptaciō wherof y^e prophete speaketh in these wordes. A nego••io per ambulante intenebris, frō the busines wal∣king in y^e darknes, & thē wil we cal for our dinner: lea∣uīg y^e last tēptaciō y^t is to wete, Ab in cursu & demonio meridiano. Frō the incursiō, & y^• deuil of y^• mid day•• til after none, and thā shal we therwith god willing make an ende of al this matter.

Vincent.

Our lorde rewarde you good vncle for your good labor with me, but for oure lordes sake take good hede vncle y^• you forbeare not your din∣ner ouer long.

Anthony.

Feare not y^• Cosin, I warrāt you, for this piece wil I make you but short.

¶The .xviii. Chapter. Of the deuil named Negotiū that is toyvit, busines vvalking about in the darkne••

THe prophet saith in y^• said psalme. Qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi, in protectione dei c••li commorabitur Scuto ••ircundabit te veri∣tas eiu••, no•• timebis. &c. A negotio per ambulante intenebris. He that dwelleth in y^e faithful hope of gods helpe, he shal abide in y^e protecciō or safegard of y^e god of heauen, & thou y^• art such one, shal y^e truth of him so cōpasse about with

a pauice y^t thou shalt not be afrayed of y^e busines wal∣king about in y^e darknesses. Negotium is here Cosin, the name of a deuil y^t is euer ful of busines, in temptynge folke to much euil busines: his time of tempting is in y^e darknesses, for you wote wel, y^t beside the very full night which is y^e depe darke, there are two tymes of darknesses. The one ere y^e morning waxe light. The other whā y^e euenīg waxeth darke. Two times of like maner darknes, are there also in y^e soule of mā: y^e one ere y^e light of grace be wel in y^e heart sprōgen vp. The other whā y^e light of grace out of y^e soule begynneth to walke fast awai. In these two darknesses this deuil y^t is called busines, busely walketh aboute, & such fond folke as wil folow him, he carieth about w^t him, & setteth thē a worke w^t many maner būbling busines ••he setteth I say some to seke y^e pleasures of y^e flesh, in eatīg, drinkīg and other filthi delite, & some he setteth about y^e incessāt s••king for these worldly gooddes, & of such busye folke whō this deuil called busines, our sauiour sayth in the gospel: Qui ambulat in ten••bris, neslit quo vadit. he that walketh in darkenes wotteth not whither he goeth. And surely in such case are they, for thei neither wote which way thei goe, nor whither. For verely thei walke roūd about, as it were in a roūd••mase, ••hē thei wene thēself at an end of their busines, they be but at y^e beginning: agayn, goe thei neuer so ful fed to bed, yet euermore on y^e morrowe as new be thei to be fed again as thei were the day be∣fore. Thus fareth it by the belly, thus fareth it w^t those partes y^t are beneth y^e belli, & as for couetice, fareth like the fyer, y^e more wood y^t cometh therto, y^e more feruēt & y^e more gredy it is•• but now hath this mase a centry or middle place, i••to which sūtime thei be cōuaied sodaīl•• whā they wene they were not yet farre frō y^e brinke y^e cōtrey or middle place of this mase is hel, & into y^e place be these busy folke that with this deuil of busines walke aboute in this busye mase, in the darkenesses, sodainly

sometyme conuayed, no thyng ware whither they be goyng, & euen while they wene that thei were not farre walked frō the beginning, & that they had yet a great way to walke aboute before they should come to y^e end: but of these steshely folke walking in this pleasaunte busi mase, the Scripture declareth y^e ende. Ducunt in bon∣dies suos & in puneto ad inferna descendunt. They leade their life in pleasure, & at a poppe downe they descend into hell. Of the couetouse man sayth. S. Paul. Qui volunt diuites fieri in∣••idunt in temptacionem & in laqueum diaboli, & desideria multa in v••ilia & nociu•• que merg••nt homines in nteritum & perdicionem. They y^• long to be riche doe fal into temptaciō & into y^• grinne of y^e deuill, and into mani desyres vnprofitable & harmeful, which droūde mē into death & into destrucciō. Lo, here is the middle place of thys busy mase, y^e grinne of y^e deuill, the place of perdicion & destrucciō, y^• thei fall and be caught and drounde in ere they be ware. The couetouse riche man also that our sauiour speaketh of in y^e gospel, that had so great plenty of corne y^t hys barnes would not receyue it•• but entended to make hys barnes larger, & sayd vnto hymselfe that he woulde make merye many dayes, had went you wote well that he had had a great way yet to walke, but god sayed vnto hym: Stulte, hac noc••e tollent a te anim••m ••uam, que autem parasti c••ius erunt? foole, this night shall they take thy soule from thee, and than all thys good that thou haste gathered, whose shall it be? here you see y^t he fel sodeynly into y^e depe centry of this busy mase, so y^t he was fallē ful & whole therin long ere euer he had went he should haue come nere thereto. Nowe this wote I very well, y^• those y^• are walking aboute in this busi mase, take not theyr busynes for any tribu∣lacion, and yet are there manye of ••••em forweried as sore, & as fore panged & payned therin, theyr pleasures

being so shorte, so litl•• and so fewe, and theyr disple••∣sures & theyr griefes so great, so continual, & so many, that it maketh me thinke vpō a good worshipfull man, which whan he diuers times behelde hys wyfe, what payne she tooke in strayghte binding vp her heere, to make her a fayre large forehead, and with straight bra∣cing in her body to make her middle smale, both twaine to her great payne, for the pride of a litel foolishe praise: he saied vnto her. Forsoth Madame if god geue you not hel, he shal doe you great wrong, for it must nedes be your own of very right: for you bye it very dere, and take verye greate payne therefore. They that nowe ••ye ••n hell for theyr wretched lyuing here. dooe nowe perceiue theyr follye in theyr more payne that they tooke heere for the lesse pleasure. There confesse they nowe theyr folye, and crye out. Lassati sumus in via iniqui•• ••atis: we haue been wearied in the waye of wyckednes. And yet while they were walking therin, they would not rest thē selfe, but runne on styl in theyr wearines, and put them selfe still vnto more payne and more, for that little pieuishe pleasure, shorte and sone gone, that they tooke all that laboure and payne for, besyde the euerlasting payne that folowed it for theyr farther aduantage after. So helpe me god and none other wyse, but as I verely thinke y^t many a man byeth hel here with so much payne, y^t he might haue bought hea∣uen with lesse thā the one halfe. But yet as•• I saye, whyle these fleshly & worldly busy folke are walking about in this round busy mase of the deuil y^t is called busines, y^t walketh about in these two tymes of darke∣nesses, theyr wittes are so by y^e secret enchaūtemente of y^e deuill bewitched, y^• they marke not y^e great longe miserable wearines & payne y^t the deuil maketh them

to take and endure about nought, and therefore they take it for no tribulaciō, so that they nede no cumfort: and therfore is it not for theyr sakes that I speake all this, sauing that it maye serue them for counsayle, to∣ward the perceiuing of theyr owne foolishe miserye, thorowe the good helpe of goddes grace beginning to shine vpon them againe. But there are verye good folke & verteouse that are in the daye light of grace, & yet because the deuil tēpteth thē busily to such fleshe∣ly delighte, & sith they see plentie of worldly substance fall vnto them, & fele the deuil in likewyse busily about to tempt them to set theyr hearte thervpō, they be sore troubled therwith, & begin to feare thereby that they be not wyth god in the light, but wyth the deuil that y^e Prophet calleth N••gotiū, that is to saye, busynes, wal∣king about in the two times of darkenesses: howebeit, as I sayd before of those good folke & gracious, that are in the worldly welth of greate power & auctoritie, and therby feare the deuilles arrowe of pride: so say I nowe here againe of these y^• stand in dreade of fleshly foule sinne & couetice, sith they be but tēpted therew^t & folowe it not albeit y^t they doe well to stand euer in moderate feare, lest w^t waxing ouer bolde, & setting y^e thing ouer lighte, they mighte peraduenture missehap to fal in therto, yet sore to vexe and trouble them selfe with y^e feare of losse of gods fauour therefore, is w^tout necessitie & not al way without peril. For as I sayed before, it w^tdraweth y^e mind of a mā farre frō spiritual cōsolacion of the good hope y^t he should haue in gods helpe. And as for these temptaciōs, while he y^t is tēpted foloweth thē not, the fight against thē serueth a man for matter of merite and reward in heauen, if he not onely flye y^e dede•• y^e cōsente & the delectaciō, but also in y^t he conueniently maye flye frō al y^• ocacions thereof,

& this point is in those fleshly tēptaciōs a thingeth to perceiue, & metely playne inough. But in these worldly businesses pertaining vnto couetise, therin is y^e thing somewhat more darke, & in y^e perceiuing more difficul∣ty, & very great troublouse feare doth there oftētimes arise therof in y^e heartes of very good folke, whā the world falleth fast vnto thē, because of y^e sore wordes & terryble threates y^e god in holy scripture speaketh a∣gainst those y^t are ••iche: as where. S. Paul saith. Qui ••olūt diuites fieri, incidunt in temptacionē & in laqueū Diaboli. They y^t wyl be riche, fal into temptaciō, & into the grin of y^e deuil, & where our sauiour saith him self. Facilius est camelum per fora∣mē acus quā diui••ē intrare in regnū dei. It is more easy for a camel, or as some say (for so Camelus signifieth in y^e Greke tōg) for a great cable rope to goe through a nedles eye, thā for a riche man to entre into y^e kingdome of god. No meruaile nowe though good folke that feare god take occasion of great drede at so dredeful wordes whan they see y^e worldly goodes fal vnto thē, & some stād in doubt whither it be lawful for thē to kepe any goodes or no. But euermore in all those places of scripture, y^• hauing of y^e worldly goodes is not y^e thing y^t is rebu∣ked & threatened, but y^e a••fecciō y^t the hauer vnlawfully beareth therto. For where. S. Paul saith. Qui volunt diuites fieri. &c. They y^t wil be made riche he speaketh not of y^e ha∣uing, but of the will & y^e desier & affecciō, & the lōging for it•• for y^t can not be lightly w^tout sinne: for y^e thinge y^• folke sore long for, they will make many shift••s to g••at, & ieopard thē self therfore, & to declare y^t the ha∣uing of riches is not forbyddē•• but y^e inordinate affec∣ciō of y^e mind sore set therupō: The prophet saith: Diuitie si affl••āt nolite cor apponere. If riches flowe vnto you set not your harts therupō. And albeit y^t our lord by y^e said en∣sāple of y^e camel or y^e cable rope, to come throw y^e nedles

eye, sayde y^• it is not onely hard, but also impossible for a riche man to entre into y^e kingdome of heauē, yet he declared that though the riche man can not geat into heauen of him self, yet god he sayd can geat hym in wel inough, for vnto mē he said it was ••mpossible, but not vnto god: for vnto god he sayd, al thinges are possible. And yet ouer that he tolde of which maner riche men he meynt y^t could not geat into y^e kingdome of heauē, saying: Filioli, quā difficile est confidentes in pecuniis in regnum dei introire My babes, howe harde is it for them that put theyr trust and confidence in theyr money, to entre into the kingdome of god?

Vincent.

This is I suppose vncle very true, and els god forbidde. For elles were the worlde in a full harde case if euery riche man were in such daunger & peril.

☞Anthony.

That were it Cosin in dede, and so I wene is it yet. For I feare me to y^e multitude, there be very fewe, but that they longe sore to be riche, & of those y^t longe so to be, very fewe reserued also, but that they set theyr heartes very sore thereon.

Vincent.

That is Uncle I feare me veri true, but yet not the thinge that I was about to speake of, but the thing y^t I would haue saide was this, that I can not wel perceiue (the world being such as it is, & so manye poore people therein) howe any man maye be riche, and kepe him riche without daunger of damnacion therefore. For al the while that he seeth poore people so many that lacke, while him self hath to geue them, and whose necessitie (while he hath wherwith) he is bound in such case of duetye to releue, so farforth that holye Saynte Ambrose sayeth: that who so that dye for defaulte, where we might help them, we kyl them our selfe. I can not see but that euery riche man hathe

great cause to stande in great feare of damnaciō, nor I can not perceiue as I saie, howe he can be deliuered of that feare as long as he kepeth his riches, and ther∣fore though he mighte kepe hys riches, if there lacked poore men, & yet stand in goddes fauour therewith, as Abraham dyd, and many an other holy riche mā since: yet it such aboundance of poore mē as there be nowe in euery countrey any man that kepeth any ryches, it muste nedes be, that he hath an inordynate affeccion thereunto, while he geueth it not out vnto the poore nedy persōs, y^t the duety of charitie bindeth & straineth him to. And thus Uncle in thys worlde at this day, me semeth your comforte vnto good men that are riche, & troubled wyth ••eare of damnacion for the keping can very scantly serue.

☞Antony.

Harde is it Cosin in ma∣ny maner thinges, to bydde or forbydde, affyrme or de∣nye, reproue or allowe, a matter nakedly proponed and put forth, or precisely to saye, this thing is good or this thing is nought, wythout consideraciō of the circum∣staunces. Holy Saint Austen telleth of a phisiciō that gaue a man a medicine in a certaine disease, that holpe him: the selfe same man at an other tyme in the selfe same dysease, ••ooke the selfe same medicine him selfe, and had thereof more harme than good: whiche thinge whē he shewed vnto the phisicion, & asked hym wher∣of that harme shoulde hap, that medicine, quod he, did the no good but harme, because thou tookest it when I gaue it the not. This answere. S. Austen very well alloweth, for y^e though y^e medicine were one, yet might there be peraduenture in the sicknes, some suche dyf∣ferēce, as y^e pacient perceiued not, yea or in the mā him self, or in the place, or in y^e time of y^e yere: many thinges might make the let, for whiche the phisicion would not

than ha•••• geuen him the selfe same medicine that he gaue him before, to peruse euery circūstance y^t might Cosin in this matter be touched, & were to be conside∣red & waighed, would in dede make this parte of thi•• deuil of busines a very busy piece of worke, & a lōg: but I shall a litle open the point that you speake of, and shall shewe you what I thinke therin, wyth as fewe wordes as I conueniently can, & than wil we goe to dinner. First Cosin, he that is a riche man & kepeth all his good, he hath I thinke very good cause to be very frayd in dede. And yet I feare me y^t such folke feare it least, for they be very farre frō the state of good mē, sith if they kepe stil al, thā are they very farre frō chari∣tie, & doe, you wo••e wel, almose, either li••••le or none at al•• But nowe is our questiō Cosin, not in what case y^t riche mā standeth y^t kepeth al, but whither we should suffer men to stande in a perillous dreade and feare, for the keping of any great part. For if that by the kepyng still of so much, as maketh a riche mā stil, they stand in y^e state of damnaciō: thā a••e y^e curates boundē plainly to tel thē so according to the cōmaundemēt of god ge∣uen vnto thē al in y^e persō of Ezechyel. Si dicente me ad im∣pium morte morieris non annunciaueris ei. &c. If whan I say to the wicked mā. Thou shalte dye, y^• doe not shewe it vnto him, nor speake it vnto him, that he may be turned frō his wicked waye and maye liue, he shall soothly dye in his wyckednes, & hys bloud shall I verilye require of thine handes. But Cosin, thoughe god inuited men vnto y^e folowing of him selfe in wyful pouertie, by the leauing of altogether at once for his sake, as the thing whereby wyth being out of the solicitude of worldlye busines, & farre frō the desier of earthly cōmodities, they may the more spedely geat and attaine the state of spirituall perfecciō & the hungry desire, & longing for

celestial thinges, ye•• doth he not commaūd euery in ā so to doe vpon y^e peril of dānaciō. For where he saieth: Qui nō renūciauerit omnibus que pos••idet, nō potest esse meus discipulus. He y^t forsaketh not al y^t euer he hath, can not be my disciple. He declareth wel by other wordes of his owne in y^e selfe same place a litle b••fore, what he meaneth. For there saieth he more. Si quis venit ad me & non odit patrem su••m & matrem, & vxorem, & filios, & fratres, & sorores, ad huc autem & animam suam, nō potest es••e n••eus dicipulus. He that cometh to me and hateth not his father & hys mother, & his children, and hys bre••hren and hys sisters, yea and hys owne lyfe too, can not be my dysciple. Here meaneth our sauiour Christ y^t none can be hys disciple, but if he loue him so farre aboue al his kinne, & aboue hys owne lyfe to, y^• ••or the loue of hym rather than to forsake him, he shal forsake them al: & so meaneth he by those other wordes, that whosoeuer doe not so renounce & for∣sake al that euer h•• h••th in his owne heart and affec∣cion, that he wil rather leese it al and let it goe euery whitte, thā deadlye displease god with the reseruing of anye one part therof, he can not be Christes dys∣ciple sy••h Christe teache••h vs to loue God aboue all thing: & he loueth not God aboue all thing, that con∣trary to gods pleasure kepeth any thing that he hath. For y^• thing he sheweth him selfe to set more by than by god, whyle he is better cōtent to lese god, than it. But as I said to geue awaye al or that no mā should be riche or haue any substance, y^t find I no cōmaūde∣ment of. There are as our sauiour saith, in the house of his father many mansions, & happy shall he be, that shall haue the grace to dwell euen in the lowest. It semeth verily by y^e gospel, y^t those which for gods sake suffer penury, shal not onely dwel aboue those in hea∣uen, y^t liue here in plenty in earth but also y^e heauen in

some maner of wise more properly belōgeth vnto thē, & is more specially prepared for thē, thā it is for the riche, by y^t, that god in the gospell coūsayleth the riche folke to bye in a maner heauē of thē, where he saieth vnto y^e riche mē. Facite vobis amicos de Mammona iniquitatis, vt cum defeceritis, re∣cipiant vos in eterna tabernacula. Make you friendes of the wic∣ked ryches, y^t whan you fayle here, they maye receiue you into euerlasting tabernacles. But now although this be thus, in respect of the riches and the pouertie compared together, yet they being good mē both, there maye be some other vertue beside, wherin the riche mā may so peraduēture excel, y^t he may be in heauen farre aboue y^t poore mā y^t was here in earth in other vertues farre vnder him, as y^e profe appeareth clerely in Laza∣rus and Abraham.

¶The .xix. Chapter.

NOr I saye not this to the entent to comforte riche men in heaping vp of riches, for a lytle comforte is bente inough thereto for them. They be not so proude hearted and obstinate, but that they would I wene, to that counsayle be with right lytle exhortacion verye conformable. But I say this for those good mē to whom god geueth substance, and the minde to dispose it well, & yet not the minde to geue it all awaye at once, but for good causes to kepe some substance still, should not dispaire of goddes fa∣uour for the not doing of the thing, which god hath ge∣uen them no commaundemēt of, nor drawen by anye special calling therunto. acheus loe, that clymed vp into the tree for desier y^t he had to behold our sauiour, at such time as Christ called aloude vnto him & sayd: zacheus, make hast & come downe, for this daye must I dwel in thy house. Zacheus was so glad therof, & so touched inwardly w^t special grace to the profite of his soule, that whereas al y^e people murmured much that

Christ would call him and be so familiar with hym, as of his owne offre to come vnto his house, considering that they knewe him for the chiefe of the Publicanes, that wer customers or tolle gatherers of themperours dueties: all which whole company were among y^e peo∣ple sore infamed of rauine, extorciō and bribery, & than zacheus, not onely the chiefe of that felowship, but also growen greatly riche, wherby the people accoumpted him in theyr own opinion•• for a man very sinneful and nought: he forthwith by the instinct of y^e spirite of god, in reproche of al such ••emerarious bold & blynd iudge∣ment geuen vpon a man, whose inwarde mind and so∣dayn chaunge they cannot see, shortly proued them all deceiued and that our lord had at those fewe woordes outwardly spokē to him, so touched him, that his grace so wrought in his heart within, y^t whatsoeuer he was before, he was than, vnwares vnto them all sodaynly waxen good: for he made haste & came downe, & gladly receiued Christ, and sayd: Loe lord, the one halfe of my goodes here I geue vnto poore people: & yet ouer that, if I haue in any thing deceued any mā, here am I rea∣dy to recompence him foure folde asmuche.

Vincent.

Thys was vncle, a gracious hearyng, but yet I marueile me sūwhat wherfore zacheus vsed his woordes in that maner of ordre. For me thinketh he shoulde first haue spoken of making restitucion vnto those whom he had begyled, and than speake of geuing his almose after. For restitucion is, you wote well, due∣tye, and a thing of such necessitie, that in respect of re∣stitucion, almose dede is but voluntarye. Therefore it might seme, that to put men in mind of theyr duetie in making restitucion fyrst, and doing theyr almose after•• zacheus should haue sayd more conueniently if he had

sayd fyrst that he woulde make euery man restitucion whom he had wronged, & than geue halfe in almose of that y^e remayned after, for only that might he cal clere∣ly his own.

☞Anthony

This is true Cosin, where a mā hath not ynough to su••fise for bothe: but he that hath is not bound to leaue his almose vngeuen to the poore man that is at his hand, and peraduenture calleth vpō him til he goe seke vp al his creditors, and al those that he hath wronged, so farre peraduenture asundre, that leauing the one good dede vndone y^e while, he may be∣fore they come together change that good mind again, and dooe neither the one nor the other. It is good al∣way therfore to be doing some good out of hand, while we thynke thereon: grace shall the better stande with vs, and encrease also to goe the farther into the other after: and this I aunswere, if the man had there done the one out of hand, y^e geuing I mean•• half in almose, & not so muche as speake of restitucion till after, where as nowe though he spake the one in ordre before the o∣ther, and yet all at one time, the thing remayned still in his libertie to put them both in execucion after such or∣dre as he should than thinke expedient. But nowe Co∣sin did the spiri••e of god tempre the tongue of zacheus in the vtterau••ce of these wordes, in suche wyse as it may wel a••peare the saying of the wyse man to be ve∣rifyed in them, where he sayeth: Domini est gubernare linguam. To god it belongeth to gouerne the tongue.

For here when he sayde he would geue halfe of hys whole good vnto poore people, and yet besyde that, not onely recomp••ce any man whom he had wronged, but more than recompence him by three times asmuche a∣gain: He double reproued the false suspicion of the peo∣ple that accoūted him for euil, y^• than reckoned in their

mind al his good gotten in e••fect with wrong, because he was growen to substaunce in that office, which was commōly misused extorciously. But his wordes decla∣red that he was r••p•• inough in his reckoning, y^t if half his goodes wer geuē away, yet wer he wel able to yeld euery man his dueti•• with y^e other half & yet leaue him∣selfe no beggar neither: for he said not he would geue al away. Would god Cosin y^• euery riche christen man that is reputed right worshipful (yea & which yet in my mind, more is r••ckoned for right honest too) would and wer able, to do the thing tha•• litle zacheus y^esame great Publican•• (were he Iewe or wer he Painim) said: y^t is to we••e, with lesse thē halfe his goodes recompence e∣uery man whom he had wronged .iiii. times as much: ye, ye Cosin, asmuch for as much hardly, and than they ••hat shal receiue it, shall be content (I dare promise for thē) to let the other thrise as muche go, & forgeue it, be∣cause it was one of the hard poyntes of the olde lawe, wheras christen men must be ful of forgeuing, and not vse to require a••d exact theyr amendes to y^e vttermost. But now for our purpose here, notwithstāding that he promised not, neither to geue away al, nor to become a beggar nether, no nor yet to leaue of his office nether, which albeit y^t he had not vsed before peraduenture in euery poynt, so pure as. S. Iohn baptist had taughte thē the lesson. Nihil amplius quam constitut•• e••••vobis faciatis. Doe no more thē is appoynted vnto you. Yet forasmuch as he might both lawfully vse his substance y^t he minded to reserue, and lawfully might vse his office to, in recei∣uing the Princes duetie according to Christes expresse commaundement. Reddite que sunt Se••ar••s, ••efari. Geue thempe∣rour those thinges that are his, refusing al extorcion & bribery beside: our lord wel allowing his good purpose,

and exacting no far••her foorth of him concernyng hys worldly b••haueour•• auns••ered and sayd: Ho••••e salus facta ••st hui•• d••mui eo quod ipse ••ilius sit Abrahe. This day is heal••h comen to this house, for that he too, is the sonne of Abraham. But now forgeat I no•• Cosyn, y^t in effecte thus farre you condiscende vnto me•• that a man may be riche, and yet not out of the state of grace, nor out of goddes fa∣uour: howbeit you thinke that though it maye be so in some tyme, or in some place, yet at this time, and in this place, or any such other like, wherein be so many poore people vpon whom they be, you thinke, bounden to be∣stowe their good, they can therfore kepe no riches with good conscience: Uerely Cosin if y^• reason would hold, I wene the world was neuer such any where, in which any man might haue kept any substaunce without the daunger of damnacion, as for since Christes dayes to the worldes end, we haue the witnes of his own word, that there hath neuer lacked poore mē, nor neuer shal: for he sayed himselfe. Pauperes semper habebitis vobi••cum, quibus quum vultis, bene••acere po••estis. Poore men shal you alway haue with you, whom when you wil you may doe good vnto: so that as I tell you, if your rule should hold, then wer there, I wene, no place in no time since Christes dayes hetherto, nor as I thinke in as lōg before that neither, nor neuer shal there hereafter, in which there could a∣ny man abide riche without the danger of eternall dā∣nacion, euen for his riches alone, though he demea∣ned it neuer so well. But Cosin, men of substaūce must there nedes be, for els shal you haue moe beggars par∣die, thē there be, & no man left able to relieue another. For this thinke I in my mind a very sure conclusion, that if al the money that is in this cūtrey, were to mo∣rowe next brought together out of euery mans hand,

and layd al vpon one heape, and than deuided out vnto euerye man alike, it would be on the morrowe after worse than it was the day before. For I suppose whan it were all egally thus deuided amōg al, the best should be left litle better, than a begger almost is now: and yet he that was a begger before, al that he shalbe the richer for y^• he should therby receiue, shal not make him much aboue a begger stil: but many one of y^e riche me if their riches stode but in moueable substaunc••, shalbe safe i∣nough frō riches haply for al their life after. Men can not you wote well liue here in thys worlde, but if that some one mā prouide a meane of liuing for some other many, euerye man cannot haue a ship of hys own, nor euery man be a marchaunt without a stocke, and these thinges you wote wel must nedes be had: nor euery mā cannot haue a plowe by himselfe. And who might liue by the taylors craft, if no man were able to put a gown to make? who by masonrye? or who could liue a carpen∣ter, if no man were able to builde neither churche nor house? Who should be makers of anye maner of cloth, if there lacked men of substaunce to set sondry sortes a worke? Some man that hath but two duccates in his house, we••e better forbeare them bothe and leaue hym∣selfe not a farthing, but vtterly lese all his owne, than that some ryche man by whome he is w••ekely sette a worke, shoulde of his money lese the one halfe, for than were himselfe like to lacke worke. For surely the riche mannes substaunce is the weispring of the poore mans liuing. And therfore here would it fare by y^e poore man as it fared by y^e woman in one of Esopes fables, which had an henne that layde euery daye a golden egge, tyll on a day she ••hought she would haue a great mayny of egges at once, and therefore she kylled her henne, and

fo••nd but one or twayne in her belly, so that for coue∣tise of those sewe she lost manye. But nowe Cosin, to come to your dout how it may be that a man may with conscience kepe riches with him, when he seeth so many poore men vpon whom he may bestowe it: Uerely that might he not with conscience do, if he mu••t bestowe it v∣pon as many as he may. And so must of trueth euerye ••iche man doe, if all the poore folke that he seeth, be so specially by Gods commaundement committed vnto his charge alone, that because our sauiour saith: Omni pe∣ten••ite, d••. Geue euery mā that asketh the, therfore should he be boūd to geue out stil to eueri beggar that wil aske him, as long as any penny lasteth in his purse. But ve∣rely Cosin, y^t saying hath, as S. Paule saith•• and other places in Scripture, neede of interpretacion. For as holy. S. Austen saith: Though Christ say, geue euerye man that asketh the: he saith not yet, geue them al that they wil aske thee. But surely al wer one, if he meint to bynde me by cōmaundement to geue euery man with∣out excepcion somewhat, ••or so should I leaue my selfe nothing. Our sauior in that place of y^e .vi. Chap of S. Luke, speaketh both of y^e contēpt y^t we should in heart haue of these worldly thinges, & also of y^e maner y^t men should vse toward their enemies. For there he biddeth vs loue our enemies geue good wordes for euil, & not onely su••fer iniuries pacientlye bothe by takyng away our goodes and harme done vnto our bodies, but also be ready to suffer the double, and ouer that, to doe thē good agayne, that dooe vs the harme. And amonge these thinges he biddeth vs geue euerye manne that asketh, meaning that in the thing that we may conue∣niently do a mā good, we should not refuse it, what ma∣ner of man soeuer he be, though he were oure mortal••

enemy, namely where we see, y^t but if we helpe him our self, y^e person of y^e man should stād in peril of perishing, & there saith: Si esurierit inimicus tuus, da illi cibū. If thine enemy be in hunger, geue him meate. But nowe though I be bound to geue euery maner of man in some maner of his necessitie, wer he my frend or my foe, christen mā or heath••, yet am I not vnto al men bound alike, nor vn∣to any man in euery case alike. But as I began to tell you, y^e differēce of y^e circumstances make great change in the matter. S. Paul saith•• Qui non prouidet suis, est infideli de∣terior. He y^t prouideth not for those y^t are his, is worse thā an infidele. Those are ours that are belo••ging to our charge, either by nature or law, or any cōmaundement of god, by nature as our children, by law as our seruan∣tes in our houshold: so y^t albeit these two sortes be not ours al alike, yet would I thinke that y^e least to be ours of y^e twayn: that is to wete, our seruantes, if they nede & lack, we be b••undē to loke to them, & prouide for their nede, & see so farforth as we may, that they lacke not y^e thinges y^t should serue for theyr necessitie, while they dwel in our seruice. Me semeth also y^t if they fal sicke in our seruice, so y^t they cānot do y^e seruice y^t we retain thē for: yet may we not in any wise turne them then out of dores, & cast thē vp cōfortles while they be no•• able to labor & helpe themselfe, for this wer a thing a∣gaynst al humanitie. And surely if he wer but a waifa∣ring mā y^t I receued into mi house as a geast, if he fal sicke therin, & his money gone, I reckon my self boū∣den to kepe him still, and rather to begge aboute for his reliefe than cast him oute in that case to the pe∣ryll of hys lyfe, what losse soeuer I shoulde take thereby in keeping of him. For when God hath by suche chaunce sente him to me, and there once mat∣ched me with hym, I reckon my selfe surely charged

with him, till I maye without perell of his life, be well and conueniently discharged of him.

By Goddes commaundement are in our charge, our parētes, for by nature we be in theyrs•• sith as. S. Paul saith, it is not y^e childrens part to prouide for y^e parētes, but the parentes to prouide for the children, prouide I meane conueniently good learning or good occupaci∣ons to geat theyr liuing by with trueth and the fauour of god, but not to make prouisiō for thē of such maner of liuing as to godward they should liue y^e woorse for: but rather if they see by their maner, y^t to much woulde make them nought, the father should then geue them a great deale the lesse. But although y^e nature put not y^e parentes in the charge of the childrē: yet not onely god cōmaundeth•• but the ordre of nature also compelleth, y^t the children should both in reuerent behaueour, honor their father & mother, & also in al their necessitie main∣tain thē, & yet asmuch as god & nature both bindeth vs to the sustenance of our own father, his nede may be so litle, though it be sumwhat, and a frēd mans so great, y^t both god & nature also would I should in suche vne∣qual nede, relieue that vrgent necessitie of a straunger, yea my foe, & gods enemy to, the veri Turke or Sara∣zin before a litle nede, & vnlikely to do great harme in my father and in my mother to, for so ought they bothe twayne them selfe to be well content I shoulde. But nowe Cosyn out of the case of suche extreme nede well perceiued and knowen vnto my selfe, I am not boundē to geue euery begger that will aske, nor to beleue euery faytor that I mete in the strete, that will saye him selfe that he is very sycke, nor to reckon all the poore folke committed by God only, so to my charge alone, y^e none other man shoulde geue them nothinge of his, tyll I

haue first geuē out al myne, nor am not boundē ney∣ther to haue so euill opiniō of all other folke saue my selfe as to thinke, y^t but if I helpe, the pore folke shal al faile at once, for god hath left in al this quarter no mo good folke nowe but me: I may thinke better by my neyghbour, & worse by my selfe than so, & yet come to heauen by goddes grace well inough.

Vincent.

Marye Uncle but some man wil peraduenture he right well cōtent in such cases, to thinke his neyghbours verye charitable, to the entent y^t he maye thinke him selfe at libertie to geue nothing at al.

Anthony.

That is Cosin verye true, so wyll there some be contente eyther to thinke, or make as though they thought, but those are they y^t are contente to geue noughte, because they b•• nought. But our question is Cosin not of thē, but of good folke, y^t by the keping of worldely goodes, stande in great feare to offend god. For y^e acquieting of theyr cōsciēce speake we ••ow, to the entent y^• they may per∣ceiue what maner of hauing of worldly goodes & ke∣ping therof, maye stand w^t the state of grace. Nowe thinke I Cosin y^t if a mā kepe riches about him for •• glorye & royalty of y^e worlde, in cōsideraciō whereof h•• taketh a great delite, & liketh him self therfore y^e bette•• taking y^e poore for y^e lacke thereof as one farre wors•• thā him self, such a mind is very vaine, foolishe, prou•• and suche a man is verye naughte in dede. But o•• the other side, if there be a mā such as would god the•••• were many, y^t hath vnto riches no loue, but hauing •• fal aboundantly vnto him, taketh to hys owne par•••• no great pleasure therof, but as though he had it n•••• kepeth him selfe in lyke abstinence & penance prieu•••• as he woulde doe in case he hadde it not, and in su•••• thinges as he doeth openly bestowe somewhat n••••••

liberally vpon him selfe in hys house after some ma∣ner of the worlde, lest he should geue other folke occa∣siō to meruaile & muse, and talke of his maner, & misse∣report him for an ipocrite, there in betwene god & him doth truely proteste & testifie as did the good Queene Hesther, that he doth it not for any desier therof in the satisfying of his owne pleasure, but woulde wyth as good wil or better, forbeare the possession of riches, sa∣uing for the commodytie that other men haue by hys dysposing ••hereof. as percase in keping of a good housholde in good christē ordre & fashiō, & in se••ting other folke a worke w^t such thing as they gaine theyr liuing y^e better by his meanes. This mānes hauing of riches I might me thinketh in merite, ma••ch in a ma∣ner with an o••her mānes forsaking of al if there were none other circumstaunces more pleasaunt vnto god farther added vnto the forsaking beside as percase for the more feruent contemplacion, by reason of the solicitude of al worldly busines l••ft of, which was the thing that made Mary Magdalenes part the better. For els woulde C••ris••e haue canned her muche more thanke to goe about and be busy in helping her sister Martha to dresse hys dinner, than to take her stoole and sytte downe at her ease and doe nought. Nowe if he that haue thys good and riches by him, haue not happely fully so perfecte minde, but somewhat loueth to kepe him self from lacke, and not so fully as a pure christen fashion requireth, determined to abandō his pleasure: wel, what wyl you more, the mā is so much y^e lesse perfecte, than I would he were, and happely than him self woulde wishe, if it were as easie to be it as to wishe it, but yet not by & by in the state of damnacion, no more thā he y^e forsaking al, & entring into religion.

is not yet alway so clere depured f••ō al worldly affec∣cions as him selfe would very faine he were & much bewa••le••h y^t he is not: of whō some man y^t hath in the world willi••••ly forsaken y^• likelihode of right worship∣f••l roumes, hath afterward had much adoe, to kepe him selfe frō the desier of y^e office of cele••ar or sextayn, to beare yet at y^e leastwyse some rule & auctorite, though it were but among y^e belles. But god is more merciful to mannes imperfecciō, if y^e mā know it, & knowle••ge it, & mislike it, & litle & litle labour to amend it, thā to reiect & cast of him y^• after as his frailetie can beare & suffer, hath a general intēt & purpose to please him & to preferre or set by nothing in al this world before hym. And therfore Cosin, to make an ende of this piece w^tal A negotio perambulante in tenebris. Of this deuil I meane y^t the prophet calleth busines walking in the darknes if a mā haue a mind to se••ue god & please him, & rather lese al the good he hath than wittingly doe deadly si••ne•• & would w^tout murmure or grudge, geue it eu••ri whitte awaye in case that god should so commaūde hym and intende to take it paciently if god would take it from him, & glad would be to vse it vnto gods pleasure, & doe his diligence to knowe and to be taught what maner vsing therof god would be pleased wyth: & therin frō tyme to time be glad to folowe the counsayle of good verteous men, thouge he neyther geue awaye all at once, nor geue euerye man that asketh hym, neyther (lette euerye man feare and thynke in thys world, y^t al the good that he doth or can doe, is a great deale to litle) but yet for al that feare, let hym dwel therwith in the faythfull hope of Goddes helpe. And than shall the trueth of god so cōpasse him about (as the proph•••• saith) with a pauice, that he shal not so nede to dreade y^•

traines & the temptacions of this deuil y^t the prophete calleth busines, walking about in the darkensses, but that he shall for all the hauing of riches and worldlye substance, so auoyde his traines and his temptacions, that he shal in conclusion by the greate and almighty mercye of god, geat into heauen well inoughe. And nowe was I Cosin aboute loe, after thys piece thus ended, to bidde them to bringe in our dinner, but now shal I not nede loe, for here they come with it already.

¶Vincent.

Forsoth good Uncle god disposeth and te∣meth your matter and your dinner both I trust. For the end of your good tale (for which our lorde rewarde you) and the beginning here of your good dinner too, (from which it were more than pietie that you shoulde any lenger haue taried) mete euē at the close together.

¶Anthony.

Well Cosin, nowe will we saye grace, and than for a while•• wil we leaue talking, and assaye howe our dinner shall like vs, and howe fayre we can fall to feding, which done you know my customable guise (for maner I maye not cal it) because y^e gyse is vnmanerly to bydde you not fare well, but steale awaye from you to slepe: but you wote well I am not wonte at after noone to slepe longe, but euen a litle to forgeatte the worlde. And when I wake, I will againe come to you, and than is (god willyng) all thys longe daye oures, wherein we shall haue time inough to talke more than shall su••fice for the finishing of thys one parte of our matter, which onely nowe remaineth.

☞Vincent.

I praye you good vncle kepe your customa∣ble maner, for maner maye you call it well inough: for as it were againste good maner to looke that a man shoulde kneele downe for courtesie whan his knee is sore, so is it very good maner that a man of your age

agrieued with suche sondry syckenesses besyde, tha•• suffre you not alway to s••epe when you should. Lette his slepe not slyppe awaye, but take it when he maye: And I will vncle in the meane while steale from you too, and spede a little earrande, and returne to you a∣gaine.

Antony.

Tarye while you will, and when you haue dyned, goe at your pleasure, but I pray you ••arye not long.

☞Vincent.

You shal not nede vncle to putte me in mynde of that, I woulde so fayne haue vp the remnaunte of our matter.