The happines of a religious state diuided into three bookes. Written in Latin by Fa. Hierome Platus of the Societie of Iesus. And now translated into English.

THE SECOND BOOKE, OF THE HAPPINES OF A RELIGIOVS STATE. (Book 2)

THE PREFACE. That a Religious State is not only profitable, but honourable.

BEhold how good,* 1.1 and how pleasant it is, to dwel Brethren in one! As the oyntment in the head, which descendeth vpon the beard of Aaron: As the dew of Hermon, which descendeth vpon mount Sion•• because there our Lord hath commanded blessing, and life for euer. A great commendation of a sociable life, a life lead in common togeather; and great pro∣mises, and rewards of Fraternal loue and coniunction, set forth, not by man, but by the Holie-Ghost, who cannot be mistaken in the weight of his prayses, nor misse of the performance, of what hee promiseth: And both the prayses of this life, and promises of the Holie-Ghost do so properly, and apparently agree with a Religious State, that no man can doubt, but the Royal Prophet, when he vttered this Prophetie, had the frame and Idea therof before his eyes, and beheld so long before, the beautifulnes of this forme of life,* 1.2 in the diuine light then communicated vnto him. Which S. Basil deliuereth, when speaking of Religious people, and discoursing at large of their hap∣pines, in conclusion he sayth, that the Prophet Dauid in his Psalmes, sung thus of them: Behold how good, and how pleasant it is, to dwel Brethren in one! Ex∣pressing the holines of their life, by the word, Good; and the contentment, and ioy,* 1.3 which arriseth from so great concord and vnion, by the word, Pleasant. And learned S. Augustin, interpreting that Psalme, teacheth no lesse, making no doubt, but that the whole Psalme, was penned purposely, of Religious people; and declareth with∣al the great force which the, Good, and contentment heere described, hath to work vpon mens minds: These words of the Psalter, sayth he, this pleasant sound, this sweet melodie, both in the eare, and in the vnderstanding, begat Monasteries: This sound awaked the Brethren, who haue coueted to dwel in one: This verse was their Trumpet: it was heard ouer the whole earth, and they that were before diuided, were gathered togeather. Thus spake S. Augustin, and very truly.

2. For first,* 1.4 the name of, Brethren, doth so fully expresse, that which passeth in a Religious Community, that there could not be a word deuised, to signify, the thing more liuely, because as Brothers, they haue one, and the same Father, one and the same Mother▪ al receaue the spiritual life which they lead, from one God, by the seed of the Holie Ghost sowen in their harts, and are conceaued in one and the same wombe of their Mother, Religion, begot, not by vertue thereof, but by the vertue of God, as I sayd, and Religion

feeds them al, with one milke, nurturing them, and bringing them to perfection, 〈…〉〈…〉 true and natural Children.

Though to the Prophets mind, the name of Brethren, did not sufficiently declare the vnion,* 1.5 which is betwixt them that are linked togeather by so ••••reight a bond, and therfore he added, that they dwel in one, that is, are al one togeather; which is so true of Religious people, that it is in a manner proper to them alone. For as the same S. Au∣gustine obserueth, they liue ••o togeather, that they are al as it were but one man; and that which is written in the Acts, is verified of them; One soule, and one hart. Many bodies, but not many harts.

* 1.6Which vnity, is the more to be esteemed, because it is not grounded vpon neernes of place, but vpon spirit, and consequently distance of place, doth not diuide it; because, as Cassian speaketh, the Cohabitation of manners, and not of places, ioyneth the Brethren togeather in the eyes of God. And as the dwelling in one house, auayleth little, where there is not agreement of minds, and conditions; so the distance of place, hindereth not, where minds and affections consort togeather.

Wherfore with great reason, the sweetnes, and profitablenes of this life, is com∣pared, to an Oyntment,* 1.7 and to dew: And to no ordinarie Oyntment, but to the oyntment, which was vsed vpon Priests, an oyntment, most fragrant, and odoriferous, and consecrating them to God, vpon whom it was wont to bee powred: To giue vs to vnderstand that they who enter vpon a Religious course, and meete togeather in this brotherly society, are consecrated to God, and consecrated as Priests, themselues being a daily Sacrifice, and offering to the Diuine Maiesty euery day many Sacrifices, and oblations of themselues. No wonder therfore, it from so great perfection of vertue, such aboundance of sweet odours doe issue,* 1.8 as to replenish the whole house of God, which is the Church, and to make Religious people themselues, both amiable, and admirable to al; and as the Apostle speaketh, and odour of life to life to many others, inflaming them with loue of the like vertue and perfection.

3. Moreouer, as the Priestly oyntment, was so perfectly good and fragrant, because it was compounded of many odoriferous ingredients, so (as I haue sayd more at large elswhere) the beauty, and benefit of Religious people is the greater, because the ver∣tue and sanctity of many, doth meete togeather. In which respect S. Basil comparing a solitary life, with a life lead in company of others, preferreth this; because, as he spea∣keth, that Good,* 1.9 and Pleasant thing, to wit, the cohabitation of Brethren, in the same house, which the holy Ghost compareth to the fragrant oyntment run∣ning downe from the head of the high Priest, can haue no place, in the single habitation of one man alone. The sweetnes of which oyntment, doth not remayne in the head only, but descendeth, to the very skirt of the garment; which S. Augustin doth learnedly,* 1.10 as al other things, interpret to be, either the latter tymes, in regard that so great excellency of vertue, was reserued to the fulnes of the Ghospel; or perfec∣tion itself; because as the garment ends in the skirt, so sayth he, they are perfect, who know how to dwel togeather, they are perfect, who fulfil the law.

4. Now as the Odoriferous sent of that oyntment, expresseth the pleasantnes of this course; so the similitude of the dew,* 1.11 declareth the profit of it. For as dew is engen∣dred in the ayre, by the heat of the S••nne, and cooleth the selfsame heat, and giueth contentment by the freshnes which it hath; so this heauenly spirit, wherof we speak, comming only from heauen, falleth vpon them, that forsaking earthly things, are infla∣med

which the sole loue of God, and cooleth in them, al loue of things inferiour, and extinguisheth the vnqui••t heat of concupiscence. And it falleth not as a suddaine shewre of rayne, with great noyse and violence, but like dew, so smal, as no man perceaues it, but he that hath it, and he that hath it, doth not only find pleasure in the temper of the inferiour heates which possesse vs, but profit by the fruitfulnes, and plenty of good workes bestowed vpon him.

5. And this dew is not promised indifferently to al, but to the high and craggy hils, of Hermon, and Sion, which signifie Religious soules raised aboue al earthly thinges and contemning the world, as inferiour and base; and no riuer can ouerflow them, that is, they are not taken with delight of any of the transitory things, which they haue forsaken. These hils stand in need of the freshnes of this heauenly dew, and if it may be said to be due to any, it is due to them, to the end that hauing before hand, in this life, a tast of that future happines, which we al expect, they may be the more inflamed with the loue, and desire therof.

Wherefore in this state, thus improued and mended by the dew distilling from aboue, thus sweetned and softned with the fragrancy of diuine oyntments, with great rea∣son hath God commaunded blessing and life for euer, that is, not any temporal or short life, or blessing, but a blessing and life eternal, and neuer fading. For here is great measure of the true knowledg,* 1.12 of God, which as our Sauiour telleth vs, is our true life. Heere the word of God soundes continually in our eares, which word, is spirit and life. Heere we loue our brethren by which we know, as S. Iohn speaketh, that wee are translated from death to life.

6. But al are not lead by profit, many rather set little by the poynt of profit, and ayme at honour and preferment, that which S. Bernard saith,* 1.13 prouing very true: Al of vs are desirous to ascend, al couet to be exalted, we are noble creatures, and carry a high mind, and therefore naturally desire highnes. Wherefore seeing God hath made so great account of a Religious state, as to enrich it so many other wayes, he cannot be thought to haue left it bare of honour, and suffered it to be in glorious, and contemptible; rather it is certaine, that eyther there is no worth at al, in the spiritual workes of God (which were madnes to think) or if there be any in his other workes,* 1.14 most of al in a Religious state, as in one of the chiefest, and rarest of al his workes. For where as the Maiesty of vertue, is so great, that though there were nothing els to commend it, this maiesty alone would make it shine like a light in the midst of darknes; Religion being the proper seat and kingdome of vertue, must needes partake of the same splendour and Maiesty, and the more, because it is so coupled with vertue, that Religion without vertue, cannot subsist so much as in the thought of man.

7. And in some sort, a Religious course of life, hath somewhat more then vertue; because euery body cannot discouer the worth, and dignity of vertue; some are so dul as they conceiue nothing at al of it: but a Religious course, hath not only inwardly wher∣with al to delight the eyes of the spiritual, but outwardly it hath that also, which draweth the vulgar into admiration, and in my iudgment, euen for matter of worth and nobility, it is not only equal in greatnes with the world, but farr aboue it.

This second booke therefore by the help of God, shal be spent in declaring the dignity of Religion, a subiect, in it self pleasant, and wherin a Religious man hath particular reason to reioyce.

8. And it is no smal testimony of the dignity therof, that we find such an infinit

company of men,* 1.15 that haue so ioyfully spurned at the honours, and wordly prefer••, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which they might haue had, and forsaken them which they had, or at least-wise infi∣nitly desired to forsake them, to enioy the happines of a Religious life. For the desire of honour, being so natural to man, as I haue saied, it cannot be thought that the bare con∣sideration of profit, could put so much Zeale and feruour into them, but that togeather with profit, they saw great honour and worth in the busines.

* 1.169 And among many strange examples in this kind, we shal hardly meete with one more signal, then that of S. Gregory the Great; who hauing lead a Monastical life from his youth, and being afterward made Deacon of the Church of Rome, was notwith∣standing so taken with the loue of his former Religious course, that being sent Legate by the Pope to Constantinople, he would not put himself vpō his iourney, but in company of some of his Monkes, that because he could not himself remaine in his Monastery, be might, as it were, carry a Monastery along with him.

10. And which is more to be admired, when he was chosen Pope, in that height of honour (then which there is not a higher vpon earth) he did so continually mourne, out of desire of Religious quiet, that almost al his writings are ful of his teares; And particularly in his Dialogues he speaketh thus: My vnfortunate mind, goared with the wound of excessiue busines,* 1.17 calleth to remembrance what a life it lead once in the Monastery, how farr al transitory thinges were beneath it; how farr it was aboue al thinges that passe away; how it was not wont to think but of heauenly thinges; how confined within the body, it did passe the boundes of flesh, by Contemplation: and death, which to euery one most commonly, is a greiuous paine, was welcome to my mind, as an entrance to life, and a reward of the labour past. But now by occasion of my Pastoral charge, it is moyled with busines of secular people, and after the comelynes of so goodly a quiet, which it had, it is disfigured, with the durt of terrene actions. I weigh what I suffer, I weigh what I haue lost; and while I behold what I haue forgone, that which I endure is more greiuous vnto me. For behold now, I am tossed in the waues of open sea, and in the ship of my mind, am beaten with the stormes of a mighty tempest, and remembring the state of my former life, as it were casting my eyes back, I sigh at the shoare which I see behind me.

* 1.1811. Thus spake S. Gregory; and much more else where to the same effect, and with like inward feeling. And by this his complaint giues vs sufficiently to vnderstand, that out of his owne practise, he discouered something in •• Religious life, so beautiful and excellent, that in that height of promotion, he would haue been glad of it, and was sorry that he wanted it. And his example ought to weigh the more with euery body, because he was so great a man, and hauing had experience in his owne person, of both kindes of life, could not notwithstanding quench the loue and desire of the one, which he had not, with the great greatnes of the other in apparence, which he possessed.

THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE HAPPINES OF A RELIGIOVS ESTATE.

HOVV BASE ALL EARTHLY THINGES ARE. CHAP. I.

THAT which a Religious life aymes at, and the Essence therof, is vtterly to abandon all earthly things: I do not say the loue of them only (for that all must do) but the very vse of them, so much as may be, which all are not obliged to forgoe. To vnderstand ther∣fore, the benefit of a Religious course, and much more the worth and dignitie therof, nothing can be more necessary, then throughly to conceaue, and establish as a certaine ground, how imperfect, and abiect all things of this world are by nature, and how vnworthy the loue, and care of man. For so a Re∣ligious man, wil be easily persuaded, to be content to want that, by the absence wherof, he sees he shal suffer no great losse; and secondly that which heere we intend, wil be playne to euery body, to wit, what makes a man truly honorable, and wherin true worth doth consist.

2 First therfore all earthly things,* 1.19 let them carry neuer so fayre, and magni∣ficall a shew, are in deed but bare and slender, and of little value; which we shall finde the sooner to be true, if we looke not vppon the particulars, seuerally; but comparing them with the rest of the world. For if we take the whole earth, and consider wel what it is, compared with the other Elements, and with the large circumference of the heauens, we shall find it is the least of them all, and indeed of no great compasse; great part of it, is hidden vnder water; part of it taken vp with hills, and mountainous places; the remaynder diuided into Prouinces, and kingdomes; kingdomes againe into citties, and townes; townes into houses, and

demaines, and the seuerall possessions of particular men: what a smal parcel now, God wot, falls to the share of euery particular?

* 1.203. Socrates the Philosopher, hath a graue and witty saying, to this Purpose. For as it is recorded of him, perceauing that Alcibiades tooke great pride in hi•• wealth and large possessions, he drew him a side to a mappe of the whole world, and desired him to shew him Attica (which was his countrey) in the mappe: and when he had readyly pointed at it, he prayed him to shew him, where his lands, and possessions lay in it; he answered they were not set downe in the mappe, Wherfore, then, replied Socrates, art thou so prowde of thy possessions, seeing they are 〈◊〉〈◊〉 part of the earth▪ But the errour is that men think gold and syluer, and wealth, and possessions, great, not because the things are great, but because themselues are little; as Emitts make account of their little neasts, as if they were large pallaces, and bestow as much labour, and toyle, vppon a handfull of graine to carrie it in, and lay it vp, as if they had got a mighty purchase.

* 1.214. Yet if the things that are so smal in bulke, and quantitie, were in price and value any great matter; a man might giue some reason, why they should be desired; but if we enter into the very bowels of them, and consider wherof they are made, we shall finde that they are composed of the knowne ele∣ments, wherof some are more suttle and cleare, as fire and ayre; some more grosse and foggy, as water and earth. Whatsoeuer we see, or handle, or take contentment in, is but a compound of these fower things put togither, and in al of them, the earth, which is the most lumpish, and base of any of the rest, hath the greatest part by farre. In the mixture therfore of these things, can there be any thing so very much to be admired, seeing the simples by themselues are so meane? Or what sence is there in it, to make so great account of a little earth, and to keepe it so charily, vnder so many locks, and keyes, if it haue a co∣lour which pleaseth your eye; and to tread the same earth vnder foote, and make account of it, as it is, when mingled with water it is but dirt? For that which S. Bernard sayth,* 1.22 is very-true, Gold and syluer, is it not but white & redde earth, which the errour of men only makes or rather esteemes pretious? And long before Saint Bernard, Saint Iohn Chrysostome made the like obseruation. And he sayth wel, that it is not made, but esteemed pretious; because the iudgment of man, when it fall's to be according to truth, can neyther rayse, nor pul downe the price nor true value of any thing; much lesse a false and erroneous persuasion, which peo∣ple frame to themselues.

5. And if we looke yet nearer, into the substance of things, which are most esteemed, we shal find it more certaynly to be as I say. For what is Pearle, but the excrement of a shelfish? And yet people now a dayes, vse it to set forth the beautie of their countenance. Wherin it may seeme to some, a ridiculous thing to set so little by the whole shell, or the fish it selfe, and to value, the thicker, and harder part therof, at so high a rate. What are gemmes, but stones▪ What is silke but the bowells of an vgly worme? What is Cloath, but the fleeces of sheepe, which we account silly things, when they are a liue? What are Ermines and ••a∣bles, but skinns of beastes? What are stately buyldings, porches, and pallaces, but a heape of stones,* 1.23 set in order? We finde that the Iaponians lay vp in their clo∣sets, and treasurie, birdes paynted vpon paper, triuetts, and brasen kettles: and esteeme highly of them, not for any neatnes of fashion or workmanship, (for

there is no such thing in them) but for bare antiquitie; insomuch that a thing of this nature, though it be quite worne, and eaten away, is sold among them for two, and fowre, and sometymes for six thousand Crownes. And when Chri∣stians laugh at them, for casting away so much money, vppon such trifles, they laugh at vs as much, for buying stones and such other commodities at so deere a rate. For their things, say they, are most of them for some vse and seruice, ours serue for nothing. And certainly they haue reason to taxe out errour, but that they are in the like errours themselues, and it falleth out among vs as with mad men; that perceaue wel enough one anothers folly, but see not their owne.

6. A third thing,* 1.24 of farre greater consideration is, that this smal parcel of goodnes, which is in earthly things, is not permanent, but runneth like a continuall streame to nothing which at first was the beginning of it. To which purpose Saint Augustine saith excellently well.* 1.25 All things rise and fall; and rising, begin to be, and growe to perfection, and when they are come to perfection, they waxe old and perish. For all things waxe old and all things perish.

Therefore when they rise and grow, the faster they grow in being, the more hast they make not to be: for so their measure.

And giues a solide and very plaine reason, why their measure and fashion is so, because euery particular thing, being parte of the whole vniuerse, and the whole, being a compund of things part, and things to come; some things must needs giue way that other may haue place, and so the whole successiuely be made vp: for as when a man vttereth a speach, wee cannot vn∣derstand it all, vnlesse the former syllables and wordes passe, and others, and others come successiuely after them, so if things were permanent in this world, they would hinder the rest that are still to come after, & the whole, would not be compleate in all parts. And this is the greatest, and most intri••s••call de∣fect, which all things haue that depend of time, that they passe away as fast as time it selfe; and runne hand in hand with it, full as speedily as it, though no∣thing be more swift then time.* 1.26 Where upon Saint Leo giues vs this good admo∣••••ion, that wee make account of all temporal things as if they were al ready past; and his reason is, because the better part of them, is not; for that which is past, is quite gone; that which is behind, is not yet come; that which is present is but a moment of time.* 1.27 And Saint Gregory saith to the same purpose, that to place ones trust, in things that passe away, is as it were to lay a foundation of a buylding vpon the running waters.

God standeth for euer, all other things passe away. What therefore is it to fly from him that standeth, but to cleaue to that which passeth? For who was euer caryed with the swelling streame of a swift ri∣uer, & could himselfe remaine immoueable, the water bearing him downewards. He therefore that desireth not to slide, must auoyde that which slideth, least by that which he loueth, he be forced to come to that which he shunneth: for he that clea∣ueth to a shipperie thing, must needs slide with it, to the place where that which he holdeth, goeth. And he hath the like saying in another place of the life of mā, which may bee applied to any other thing.* 1.28 To liue sayth he, with a necessity of dying, is as it were, to iourney towards death; for as many dayes as passe of our life, so many paces wee drawe neerer the place intended in our iourney. And the very adding of time, is a diminishing of it, because the space of our life, which beginnes to be, begins equally as much, not to be.

* 1.297. And yet againe, if this succession of things were to last any length of time, people might haue some comfort in the tearme they had in them. But alas, how short, and vnsettled, is this tearme! How suddenly is it ended? yet a little while, sayth the Prophet, and the sinner shall not bee. And in another place. Man is like grasse,* 1.30 his dayes l••ke the slower of the feild, so shall he perish. And S. Iames compareth mans life to a vapour; Iob calleth it a point. Vpon which place S. Gregorie writeth thus. The whole length of time, of this present life appeareth euidently to be but a point, when it commeth. For whatsoeuer could haue an end, Was but short.

And that we might not thinke that he speaketh only of them, that are taken away by vntimely death in the prime of their youth, he repeateth the same more expressely elswhere in these words.* 1.31 If we looke backe, from the beginning of mankind to this very time, in which now we liue, we shall quickly see, how short it is, seeing once it could haue an end. For if there were a man that hauing been created the first day of the world, had liued till this very day, and this days should make an end of his life that seeme•• so long; behould the end is come; that which is past is nothing, because all is gone, that which is to come in this world, is also nothing, because he hath not a moment more to liue. Where then is that long time contayned betwixt the be∣ginning and ending!

It is consumed as if had neuer been.

* 1.328. Which incommoditie, hath yet a greater, to wit, that this smale pittance of time, which nature hath allotted, to the things of this world, is vncertaine. Euery thing is subiect to so many chances, and aduentures, that most commonly in the midst of their course, they giue vs the slipp. By nature they are so brittle, that eue∣ry little incounter breakes all to peeces, as i•• they were ma•••• of glasse. The chan∣ces are so many, and so frequent in the world, by roberies, tempests, warre oppres∣sion of great men, and infinite other accidents; that it is not conceauable how ea∣sie it is, for euery thing to perish, & to be changed from one to another. But easyly may be seene, that it is the hardest thing in the world, to keepe any thing long. Which S. Bernard expresseth in a homilie which he made of the deceitfullnes of this life in these words.* 1.33 Men take pleasure in meate, they take pleasure in pompe, and pride, they take pleasure in riches they take pleasure also in vice, & time.

But sor∣row entreth vpon the latter end of this ioy & pleasure, because the pleasure which we take in a thing that is changeable, must needs change, when the thing is chan∣ged. We light a taper; it is not the pure element of fire, but a torch' a taper, and the fire it selfe consumeth that which feeds it, and is not fed, but by consuming, & as the matter cometh to an end, the fire also fayleth. As therefore smoake, & dar∣kenes, waytes vpon the end of that flame, so the pleasure of euery ioyfull thing, endeth in sorrow.

Thus sayth S. Bernard excellently wel. specially that all these temporal things, are so very vnconstant, that they are not only subiect to be taken from vs by external violence: but decay suddainly by the very vse of them, and fall away, by little and little, through our fingars, while we handle them, as meare and drinke, and apparel, stately buyldings, and the like, how can therefore that long continue, which is continually eating out it seise.

9. Which was the ground as I take it of an answere which S. Macarius of Alexan∣dria is reported to haue made to a certaine Tribune. For passing the riuer of Niles with another Macarius, and being both of them but poorely clad, and in fashion somewhat contemptible, and two Tribunes pass••ng in the same boate, richly ap∣parelled

in cloth of gould, with a great trayne of horses and followers. One of the Tribunes spying the two seruants of God sittling in a corner of the boate, sayed vnto them. You are happy that make a foole of the world. It is true sayd S. Ma∣carius.* 1.34 We make a foole of the world, and the world makes fooles of you. With which short and saddaine replye the man was so strucken at hart, and his vnder∣standing so enlightened, that when he came home, he presently made away al he had,* 1.35 and betooke himself to Religion, perfourming that which S. Bernard aduiseth in a certaine place, saying. It is better to fors••k•• the world, then to be forsaken by it. And penetrating the truth of that which S. Gregory deliuers in his moralls.* 1.36 Wee cannot long remaine with the things which we haue, for eyther dying we leaue them, or they perishing do as it were leaue vs, while we liue.

10. But let vs suppose the goods of this world were great,* 1.37 and certaine, and long to be enjoyed, is the vse and possession of them in that fashion in which we haue them, a matter much to bee esteemed? For if wee enter duly into the manner of it, we shal finde that al the joy wee haue in them, is by meanes of our fiue sences, which are common to beasts, and wherein many beasts goe farr beyond vs. And consequently the manner of injoying them is but base and infirme, and the joy we haue in them but very smal For our sight only takes pleasure in some, as in pictures, and images, and the beauty of feildes and woods. In some, out tast; some serue for nothing but to be kept lockt vp in chests. Others are so farre from the owners reach, that they can neuer set eye, or lay hand vpon them. Moreouer in things for example which please the palate, it is t••e sauour only, which giueth contentment: if there be any thing els in them, it is in a manner lost, and consequently we neuer thoroughly enjoy any thing. For in other thinges, the smel only is for vse, in others the colour; and so if we passe through al, we shal finde that we enjoy the least parcel of them, which certainly is not to bee bought at so deere a rate.

11. Finally,* 1.38 to the end we may the better vnderstand the nature of al these earthly things, and enter into a deeper contempt, and hatred of them, we shal do wel to consider, that the smal vncertaine good, which by the guist of God, is in them, is alwaise beset with so many troubles, and mingled with so many euills, that are farr greater then the good which they present vs with; that the pleasure, which a man takes in them, can neuer be ful and perfect, but is allwaise neces∣sarily clipped, and abated in many things: We might proue this by many occur∣rences, which happen dayly in the life of man before our eyes, but I wil content my selfe, with one passage out of an epistle of S. Berna••d to Sophia a noble ladye,* 1.39 of the deceiptful glory of this world, where hauing first discoursed of the shortnes of it, he sayth further of the very continuance which it hath, in this manner:

The very permanency of it, such as it is, hath it not more trouble then pleasure? while you lay clayme to your owne; while you stand defending of it; when you enuye, when you are iealous; when you are continually hunting after something which you haue not, and the desire of hauing, is neuer quenched by that which you haue gotten; what rest do you finde in your glory? If there be any; yet the pleasure soone passeth, neuer to returne; the trouble remayneth, and wil neuer leaue you.

12. But nothing doth more plainly discouer the natural condition and qualities of euery Creature,* 1.40 and shew vs more euidently how base imperfect al of them

are, then if we compare them with their Creatour. For as a poore countrey fellow•• borne and bred in some out village wil euer thinke his cottage, and his clout••, something, til he come into a Citty, and there behould the state and magnificence of the Nobility in their buildings, and retinew, and al other things: so as long as a man rests in these inferiour things, he shal neuer arriue to the perfect knowledge of them. But if we desire to see thoroughly into them, we must rayse our selues to the consideration of the greatnes and maiesty, and infinitie of God. For if the whole earth, as I insinuated before, be but a point in comparison of the heauens, and the heauens themselues, if they were as many more, and more vast then they are, were yet farre lesse then a point, in respect of God, what is the earth in comparison with God? And if the whole earth be nothing, compared with God, what is a smal parcel of the earth, or a handful of money, or any thing els that can be named?

* 1.4113. Wherein we may consider moreouer the existence of euery thing, and the manner or measure of their being in this world; For doubtlesse they haue so poore and so weake a consistence, that they are euer neerer not being, then being; specially if we set the being of God, and the euer permanent existence of his Diuine essence in comparison with them. In regard of which excessiue distance, Iob sayth of God,* 1.42 He only is. Which S. Gregory expoundeth in these words.

Are there not Angels and men, heauen and earth, sea, and land, the aire and al flying fowle, foure footed beasts, and such as creep vpon the earth? Al these thinges are; but principally they are not, because they subsist not of themselues: and vnlesse the hand of God, that gouerneth them, do maintaine them, they cannot be.* 1.43

Wherefore in al thinges he is only to be regarded, who is principally; and he that sayd to Moyses, I am, who am: so thou shalt say to the Children of Israel, He that 〈◊〉〈◊〉, hath sent me vnto you. Al which put togeather, wil easily persuade a man of reason and iudgement, that not only one feild, or one house, or any priuate mans possessions (which are often but smal in euery bodies eye) are not much to be valued, or rather to be accounted in a manner nothing; but that the whole world, with al that is in it, or if it were possible that there were worlds without number in one mans possession, are al of them nothing, and as such to be con∣temned.

WHERIN TRVE HONOVR AND nobilitie doth consist. CHAP. II.

THIS ground supposed, it wil be easy to vnderstand, wherin true Nobilitie doth consist, and what maketh a man truly honorable. Commonly men think it is wealth or preferment, or greatnes of descent which makes them honorable,* 1.44 because, as S. Gregorie teacheth,

people shut their eyes to internal and inuincible things, and feed themselues only with things visible. And therfore they respect a man not for that which he is, but for that which is about him.

* 1.452. This errour may be easyly layed open, and confuted if we do but consider that we value al other things by that which is in them: Who esteeme of a howse,

as it is most fit for habitation; of an oxe, or a horse, as they are most seruiceab••••, either for the plough, or for the race, or saddle; and so in smaller things, we commend a sword, or a knife if they be for the vse, for which they were made. What folly is it then, to honour man only for things which are, without him, and farre inferiour to himself, and lesse deseruing honour? For wealth, apparel, a good howse and such like, are not onely outward but inferiour to man, and con∣sequently farre from adding any honour, or ornament vnto him. And in fine, both the good which is in them, is smal, and of meane value, and not for a man to glory in, seeing himself is greater and more noble. And secondly, be it what it wil, it is wide of him that possesseth it. For as it were a ridiculous thing for me for example, to brag of your learning, or you of myne; iust so it falleth out with them, that brag of their gold, and syluer, and possessions. For that which is good or glorious in these things, belōgs to the gracing of the thing it self, & not of man. For that which S. Bern. sayth truly of one kind,* 1.46 may be applied to al. Esteeme it an vnworthy thing, to borrow beautie of mousefurre, or of the labours of wormes. The true ornament of euery thing is that which is in it of it self, nothing els."

3. Wherfore the qualities of the mind,* 1.47 only are the proper ornament of man∣kind, and only able to giue a man true honour, and worth. These are his owne, & stick by him, and are great indeed, and deserue accordingly, to be highly esteemed of euery body.* 1.48 Which S. Ambr giues vs to vnderstand in the exāple of Noë, in the booke which he wrot in prayse of him: pōdering how, in the holy Scripture he is cōmended, not for Nobilitie of descent, but for Iustice & perfection. The descent of a good man, sayth he, is the progenie of vertue? For as men descend from men, so the linage of soules is vertue. S. Hierom sayth as much in other words.* 1.49

Our Re∣ligion hath not respect to persons, nor standeth vpon the natures of men; but con∣sidereth euery ones mind. It iudgeth a man to be of noble, or seruile condition by his manners: Not to be a slaue to time, is the only libertie with God, & the greatest Nobilitie, is to be conspicuous in vertue. For otherwise a man doth but in vayne glorie of the nobilitie of his descent, seeing al that are redeemed with the same blood of Christ, are of God equally prized and honoured. It maketh no matter, in what state a man is borne, seeing al are equally regenerated in Christ.

4. This was the sense and opinion of holy Fathers, as we find by what they haue left written; and a Christian that hath good grounds wherby to discerne what is truth and what is falshood, what is vayne, and what is solide and sub∣stantial, can think no other. The answer which S. Agatha virgin and martyr made to Iudge Quintian was pertinent in this kind. For he casting it in her teeth, as a disgrace, that being horne as she was of noble parentage, she was not ashamed to lead the base and seruile life of a Christian? Shee replied, that she esteemed it the greatest freedome and honour that could be to be the handmaide of Christ. And certainly, as I sayed, it behooueth al men to be of the same mind, Christians especially.

5. That we find the like deliuered by heathen writers, is much more to be ad∣mired: And yet Plato in his dialogues of a common weale discourseth after this manner.* 1.50 Next after God we must honour our owne mind: but it is no true honour, if puffed vp with a foolish opinion of our selues, we commend our sel∣ues, or let our mind do whatsoeuer it hath a fancie to; much lesse if we giue our selues ouer to pleasure. For this were rather to affront it, and fil it ful of mischeefe and repentance.

Neither doth he honour his mind, that

esteemeth this life to be any great good thing, because he also doth disgrace and defile it. Nor he, that preferreth corporal beautie before vertue, or heapeth rich•••• vniustly. Al these do lauish that which in the mind is most beautiful, and most honourable, for a smale and idle gayne: because al the goods of the earth, or vnder earth, cannot equal vertue only. And consequently the only true honour is to follow that, which is vpright and honest.

* 1.516. Aristotle doth not only deliuer the selfe same more exprestly, but addeth the reason, why most men are mistaken in their iudgment, touching this point. He sayth, that honour is only due to vertue, as a reward therof, and a reward nothing answe∣rable to it, but farre short of it. Because no honour is great enough for perfect vertue. Also that euery thing that is excellent in goodnes, deserueth honour; and because com∣monly people take nothing to be good, but that which is outward, as nobilitie of descent, riches, cōmand, and the like; they honour them more, as men excellent aboue others, in whom they find these things. But in truth an honest mā only, is he that is to be honoured, and they that haue these other things without vertue, deserue no honour; though the practise be otherwise in such as put themselues forward in the world, and think because it outward apparence they are great, that therfore they are truly to be preferred before others.

* 1.527. And besides the auctoritie of Aristotle and others, there is an other reason which is very plaine and euident. For as we see God hath created three differences of natures in this world; on consisting of spirit, and vnderstanding only, as the Angels. One wholy corporal, as beasts. One of a middle composition betwixt them both, or rather contayning them both, which is man: who hath flesh as beastes; and spirit, and vnderstanding as the Angels. And consequently man per∣formeth the functions of both natures, vnderstanding things, considering their beginning and causes, remembring that which is past, forethinking that which is to come, as the Angels do; and eating, drinking, sleeping, greeuing, breeding, growing, increasing, dying as beasts, so that placed as it were in the middle betwixt them both, that way which in the course of his life and behauiour he bendeth himself, to that nature, he doth become most like. If he take the path of sense and sensual or carnal pleasure, he becometh a very beast, which is that which the Prophet sayth.* 1.53 Man when he was in honour did not vnderstand, he is compared to the foolish beastes, and made like vnto them. If he gouerne himself by reason, and sup∣pressing desires of the flesh, follow that which is spiritual, be becomes not only like the Angels, but like to God, and increaseth more and more the true resem∣blance of him in himself,* 1.54 according to the testimonie of the same Prophet. I sayed you are Gods. Wherfore there is as much difference betwixt one that liueth according to the flesh, as the Apostle speaketh, and one that liuech according to the spirit, I do not say, as there is betwixt a Porter and a King (for though this distance be great, it is stil within compasse of the same nature) but as there is betwixt a beast and an Angel. Nothing being more contemptible then the one, nothing vnder God more honourable then the other.

8. Wherfore we must needs conclude, that true worth, true Honour, true Nobilitie, consisteth in vertue only; Which whosoeuer doth not vnderstand, hath not eyes to be hold the glorie of vertue.* 1.55 And that which S. Gregorie sayth proueth true in such a man. That carnal people though for humane wisdome they seeme to be reaso∣nable creatures, want the light of liue reason; because they see only with the eyes,

which the serpent opened. For sayth he, if they saw the spiritual glorie of vertue, doubtlesse they would couet to haue it within them, as wel as other qualities.

OF THE DIGNITIE OF Religious Pouertie. CHAP. III.

EVERY vertue that a man doth throughly practice, doth beget him in the eyes and opinion of other men great admiration, and people are in a manner forced to loue him, and respect him for it. And the rarer, and more excellent the vertues are, and more hard to compasse,* 1.56 they work this effect of loue and admiration more forcibly: because as their beauty and splendour is greater, so they draw peoples thoughts the more to admire them. In which number doubt∣lesse the vertues proper to a Religious state, ought to be ranked, as truly in∣nobling those that possesse them. Wherfore we will say something of euery one of them in particular. And first of Pouertie; which as Saint Ambrose telleth vs:* 1.57 Is the formost in degree, and as it were the Mother of other vertues.

2. Of the benefit, and commoditie of Pouertie we haue discoursed sufficient∣ly in the precedent booke; here we are to speake as I sayd, of the dignitie of it. Which we shall come the easier to vnderstand, if we first suppose, that we talk not heere of Pouertie, which is forced vppon a man by necessitie, or by some suddaine or violent accident▪ for such Pouertie is base and sordide, and odious among men, and not without reason; because seing it is not vo∣luntarie, it deserues no commendation; and being subiect to many inconue∣niences from abroad, it hath no inward comfort at home to solace it: it quen∣cheth not the desire of hauing, but inflameth it; it is so farre from bringing quiet and contentment with it, that it rather breedeth nothing but care, and an∣xietie and anguish of mind.

3. Euangelical Pouertie,* 1.58 which is that, which Religious people professe, is of a farre other straine; for it is voluntarie, willingly vndertaken, willingly vn∣dergone and borne: Though it might haue riches, and whole mountaines of gold, it esteemeth al as dung with the Apostle, for the loue of God, and hope of heauenly treasure; and setting al things at naught, is seated aboue all, and after a strange manner, possesseth al, by treading al vnder foot. They that professe it, cast away, not onely that which is superfluous, to bring themselues to the state,* 1.59 of which the wiseman speaketh; Giue me neither riches nor Pouertie, but grant me onely things needful for my sustenance: but they depriue themselues of necessaries, and put themselues into a perfect kind of nakednesse of al things. They part not with few things onely, or with many (which yet were very com∣mendable, and much to be admired) but they forsake al, they bereaue themselues of euery kind of thing, and that for euer.

4. A man would think, this were enough and that no more could be added, be∣cause he that saith al, excludeth nothing; and yet in Religious Pouertie, there is

somthing, which is yet more to be admired, viz. that not only they haue nothing, but haue put vpō thēselues vpon such tearmes, as absolutly they can haue nothing, & haue cut off frō themselues, both al dominion, and the very power of euer retur∣ning to haue any dominion ouer any thing. Diuines are wont to declare this point by a familiar example of a labouring beast, which expresseth it very naturally. For as a horse for example, vseth the stable and hay, and litter, and cloath's, and such like, and cannot be sayd to possesse any of them; becaus•• he hath not vnderstan∣ding & reason, which is the ground of dominion, but is himself possessed by man. So Religious people vse the cloathes, and the meate, and other necessaries which be in the howse, but they vse them not as their owne: they haue but the bare vse of them, and cannot say they are maisters of any thing; because by the vow of Pouertie, which they make, they are altogeather as vncapable of true and law∣ful Dominion ouer any thing,* 1.60 as the horse I spake of. And that which Cassi••s commended in the Monks of his time, is common to all: They durst not say any thing was theirs, and it was a great fault to heare a Monk say, my booke, my pa∣per, my garment. What more perfect Pouertie can there be? or to what higher straine can it rise?

* 1.615. The difficultie which doth accompanie it, doth not a litle commend the Excellencie, and dignitie of it. The difficultie I say, which both the nature of the thing it self, doth at the very first sight offer to our eyes, and which may be gathered moreouer, by the scarcitie of this kind of pearle, for so I may iustly tearme it. Blessed is the man saith Ecclesiasticus, who is sound without spot, and hath not gone after gold, nor hoped in treasure of money: who is he, and we wil praise him! for he hath done wonders in his life. He asketh who is he? as if none we∣re to be found; and giueth this high commendation to a man, that desireth not wealth, nor laboureth for increase of his riches, and is not continual∣ly hoarding: but Religious people go higher; for they cast away that which they haue, and bring themselues to the perfect nakednes, which I spake of, and consequently that which they do in their life, is a farre greater won∣der.

* 1.626. But let vs consider a little how many wayes the desire of hauing is subiect to be inflamed in this world: for when we shal find that Euangelical Pouer∣tie doth barre all those wayes, and subdue so many fie••y Enemies, we shal [ 1] see more pla••nely the Excellencie of it. First therfore there is a kind of poise or inclination, and desire to haue many things naturally ingrafted in vs;* 1.63 which Saint Augustin deriueth from the likenes which we haue with God, so deeply imprinted in vs, that eue•• when we sinne, we retaine a resemblance of him: for as God hath all things, so man desireth to resemble him, by hauing as many as he can. The beautie of the things of this world much whetteth our [ 2] desire of them; as the shining colour of gold, the sparkling of gemmes and pre∣tious stones, the glorie of gay and costly apparrel, the state of large buyldings, and the like. Besides the many commodities which riches bring with them, re∣leeuing [ 3] vs in al, or in most of the miseries of this life, and yeilding plentiful mea∣nes of pleasure, and pastimes, dayntie face▪ pleasant gard us, abundance of fur∣niture, and whatsoeuer is choyce and sumptuous. Pouertie on the other side bereaues vs of al thi••, which nature cannot choose but feele, & it sinks the deeper, because it is to last all our life time; and puts vs in a manner, in feare of our

liues; because it takes away the helpes, by which life is maintayned. So that na∣turally we hate and shunne Pouertie, almost as much as we tender our owne life, the loue whereof, commandeth all other loues, as euery body feeleth in him∣selfe.

7. If we adde the point of honour, which men are so naturally taken with, [ 4] what is more in reputation then riches? what more disgraceful then Pouertie. This is the general persuasion of al men, euer from their Cildhood; with this we grow, and in this the vogue and fashion of the times doth settle vs, & the fami∣liar discourses of euery body at home and abroad, tend to nothing else but to per∣swade vs that there is not a happier thing in this world, then to haue large posses∣sions, great reuenewes, gold and syluer at wil, and plenty of all kind of wealth. How noble a spirit therefore,* 1.64 and how resolute a mind, must in needes bee that spurneth and treadeth vnder foot at once, all that which nature so much desireth, and is taken with: and cōtrariewise doth so louingly embrace that which men by nature do so much abhorr? To which purpose Blessed Nilus as auncient Father, hath a diuine saying, commending the excellency both of Pouerty and Chastity, in regard, as he speaketh: beautye and riches are much alike desireful, and it must be a resolute minde that is not takē, with either of them.

But they that haue vnder∣taken to possesse nothing are worthyly much more to be admited, because the esteeme in which riches are held, could take no hould of them, nor bring them to intangle their minde in such idle cares. For though there be many thinges in this world pleasing to sense, which easily entice a man vnto them, yet riches are much more forcible in this kinde, because they are so vsefull both for attayning of honour and pleasure; and because long custome hath taught fooles to account them happy that are rich, in regard of the glory and pleasure they liue in. They therfore are worthyly to be esteemed rare men, that striuing with themselues, haue ouercome the thoughts of their minde, mouing them to yeild to the opi∣nion, which the vulgar hath of riches, as if they were truly good, and which in the iudgment of all men are thought to be of high esteeme.

These are the very wordes of Nilus.

7. It cannot therfore be denyed, but that to be voluntarily poore, is a token of a noble spirit and of a high mind, soaring aboue whatsoeuer is in the world, and contemning it as base and abiect.* 1.65 And yet it is the more to be admired and valued, in regard it freeth vs from all that base vnworthines, which they are necessarily subiect vnto, who seeke after wordly wealth: S. Iohn Chrysostome in his last homi∣ly vpon Saint Matthew, doth lay it before our eyes in this excellent comparison: A rich man must needes want many thinges, & be a slaue & basely stand in awe, & in suspicion, & in feare of those that haue their eyes vpon him, & of their tongues that speake their pleasure, and of the very desires of others, that are Couetous.

But pouerty not so; For this is a princely palace, not subiect to theeues, but strongly guarded,* 1.66 a quiet hauen; an Academie and schoole of wisedome. And elsewhe∣re more copiously he speaketh thus. If thou look into the very soule of a man that loues money, thou wilt find it all boared ful of holes with care, as a garment that is eaten vp by ten thousand moathes; rotten with sinn, and ful of iron molles. In the soule of him that is voluntarily poore, it is farr otherwise; it rather glitte∣reth like gold, shineth as pretious stones, and is as beau••iful as a Rose. There is neither moath, nor theese, nor worldly care to be seen; but in his cōuersation he is

he is not bound to attend vpon any earthly prince, but wayteth vpon God. He serueth not in the rancke of men, but of Angels: earth is not his treasure, but heauen: the wants no attendance, but rather hath seruants, and possessions, and thoughts that are lordes of al thinges. What is more noble then such a poore man? But he hath neither horses nor coach; what need hath he of them, that must walk vpon the cloudes and bee with Christ?

* 1.678. A great Commendation certainely of Pouerty, proceeding from so great a Saint; but that which S. Paule comprizeth in one only word is yet farr greater. Hauing nothing and possessing all thinges. Whose words if wee credit (and who i•• there that will not giue credit to the Apostle, vnlesse he bee extreame vngodly?) Nothing can bee more magnificent then pouerty, as claiming possession of the whole wo••l••, for what masse of wealth, what extent of Kingdoms can bee matched with it? Al Kingdomes though they be large, are confined within certaine limits; but the Kingdome of pouerty hath no boundes; by onely hauing nothing, it hath all things and is in possession of all, for the whole busines consisteth in the mind: the mind cannot be possessed of a thing,* 1.68 vnlesse it be maister of it; it cannot not be maister vnlesse it be aboue it; the more it is aboue a thing, the more maister it is, & d••th the more truly possesse it. Now they that couet to be rich, cannot but loue the thinges, without which they make account they cannot liue: of loue comes care & sollicitude, and consequently the man is a slaue vnto them. Contrariwise the mind that hath shaken off these thinges, is not only aboue them, but doth scorne them.* 1.69 Whereupon Clima••us doth ground that graue and lofty saying of his:

that a Poore Monke is Lord of the world▪ and he that hath cast his care vpon God, by that cōfidence, doth possesse all nations, as his vassals. And addeth; that a poore ser∣uant of God, loues nothing disorderly: for he maketh account of that which he hath, or may haue as if it were nothing; and if it b••e his fortune to leese it, he estee∣meth it as dung. To which purpose also S. Bernard applyeth excellently well, as he doth alwaies that which was spoken of the only begotten (to vse his owne word) to al his brethren;* 1.70 If I bee exalted from the earth, I w••ll draw all thinges to my selfe. For al thinges,* 1.71 sayth hee, are not onely added but made subiect vnto them, if naked of all earthly thinges, they be exalted farr aboue them. Let not therefore the rich men of this world imagine, that the Brethren of Christ possesse onely heauenly thinges, because they heare him say, blessed are the poore of spirit, for theirs is the King∣dome of heauen.* 1.72 Let them not thinke that they possesse heauenly thinges onely, be∣cause they heare no other named in the promise. They possesse earthly thinges also,* 1.73 As hauing nothing and possessing al thinges, & are the more maisters ouer them, the lesse they couet them. Finally to a faithful man the whole world is his wealth; absolutely al the world, because al thinges, aduerse and prosperous, are equally subiect vnto him, and turne to his good. A Couetous man hungers after earthly things, as a beggar; the faithful contemnes them, as Lord. He possessing them, goeth a begging; the other contemning them, is in possession of them.

This is S. Bernard•• true and elegant discourse.

* 1.749. Another thing wherein this kind of pouerty may iustly glory, is that whereas no body is so wel prouided of earthly wealth, but that sometimes he wants, o•• at least may come to want something which he would haue. He that is voluntarily poore, cannot possibly want any thing that is needful for him, in re∣gard that God through his deuine prouidēce, hath vndertaken to prouide for him,

& to maintaine him.* 1.75 The Royal Prophet telleth vs as much. The rich, sayth hee, haue been in want & hungred, but they that seeke after our Lord shal not faile of any good. Whe∣re-vppon S. Chrysost. in one of his homilies,* 1.76 doth reckon this also, among the chee∣fest commodityes of a Religious life, that God feeding vs, as he speaketh, wee should not need to take thought for any thing.

For as if a king promise thee thy dyet, out of his prouision and store, thou doest fixe vpon it; much more doth it befit thee to lay aside al care and sollicitude, beeing God doth prouide for thee, and al things flow vnto thee from him, as water doth from a fountaine. For if he feede al flesh, much more those who haue consecrated themselues vnto him.

Which obseruation of S. Iohn Ch••••sostome hath not only relation to the profit, and quiet of minde, arising of pouertie, but to the worth and glory of it, wherof we speak. For what greater glorie can there bee, then to haue such a steward (as I may say) of our house-hold,* 1.77 and him to make our prouisions for vs, who is Lord of Angels, in the heauenly court, and vnder whom they stoope that beare the world.

1••. But nothing doth so much grace the state of Euangelical pouertie,* 1.78 as the example of the Sonne of God, Wh•• (as the Apostle speaketh) when he was rich, was made poore for v••: & not onely poore, but a very beggar. For that which is in the Psalme, is more truely our Sauiours speach then Dauid's: I am a beggar and poore. He chose a Mother that was poore,* 1.79 and he that was thought to bee his Father, was a silly Carpenter:* 1.80 he would not bee borne in any man's dwelling house, but in a stable, that was none of his owne: His life was according; for as himselfe is witnesse. The foxes ha••e their dennes and the birds of the aire their neasts,* 1.81 but the sonne of man had not where to laye his head. Finally hee in whose hand, are al the bounds of the earth, was not ashamed, to mayntayne himselfe, and his, vpon others Charitie. What can we desire more? For neither would the word and wisedome of God, that is, God himselfe, haue chosen such a manner of life, but that he knew, it was both noble and beseeming God: and though it had been neuer so meane, and abiect be∣fore, his onely example is sufficient to place it in the highest ranck of honour, and nobilitie.

11. Following the example of our Sauiour,* 1.82 the Apostles were also poore. For what other thing was it fitting they should learne in his schoole, but to imitate him? and how should they choose, but bee willing to imitate him, seeing he was their maister, they his scollars; he their Lord, they his seruants? Where∣fore the cheife of them,* 1.83 professing this golden pouerty, sayd: gold and siluer I haue none.* 1.84 Another speaketh thus of himselfe: In hunger and thirst, in cold and nakednes. And of the rest of the Apostles:* 1.85 euen to this houre, wee hunger and thirst and are nak••d. And al of them had this rule giuen them:* 1.86 Possesse not gold no•• siluer, nor ••wo coates. Holy pouerty therfore beeing raysed to such honor and dignity by the example of Christ, and his Blessed M••ther, the Queene of heauen, and of his Apostles, al Religious people haue not only embraced it, as allwayes exceeding profitable, but accordingly reuerenced it, as a thing diuine. Of which number and persuasion, was that Isaac, of whom S. Gregory relateth in his dialogues:* 1.87 that when many large possessions where presented him, to the vse of his monastery, he could neuer bee drawne to admit of them, because (as hee expressed) that he was as much afraid, to leese the assurance of his pouerty, as the Couetous man is careful, to conserue his fading riches.

12. The like wee read in S. Antonine and others, of S. Clare,* 1.88 Mother of many

virgins:* 1.89 that shee loued al virtues, but was cheifely inamoured with pouertie, and was wont to say to her sisters, that her Cōuent or companie, should remayne firme and impregnable, so long as it was deffended with the walls of Pouertie. And when she requested Pope Innocent the fourth, to grant her the perpetual priuiledge (as she called it) of Pouertie, the Pope being much taken with that new kinde of forme of priuiledge, (t••ere neuer hauing beene such a request as he sayd, made before to that holy Sea) he did not only willingly graunt vnto it but with a great deale of contentment to his minde, he writ the whole graunt with his owne hand.

13. And it was no wonder that she was so great a seruant of this virtue, hauing been bred vp in Sainct Francis his schoole;* 1.90 who did not only much please him selfe in the commodities of pouertie, but did highly honour and reuerence it as a iewel of great price, and a state whereunto no dignity in the world could bee compared. Sainct Bonauenture writeth in his life,* 1.91 that whensoeuer he had occasion to speake of that virtue, he was wont with reuerence, to stile it his Mother, his Spouse his Lady, and Queene; in regard that by the king of kings, and by his blessed M••ther, the virgin Marie, it had beene so highly prized and pra∣ctised. If by chance he had espyed a beggar in the streetes, that seemed more poore then hee, his heart began presently by to burne within him, with holy enuy against that man, as if he had been out-stript in a matter of great con∣sequence. And againe if hee were inuited to a gentleman's table, as oftentymes he was; in the way as he went, he allwayes begged of the neighbours, from doore to doore some crusts of bread, which when he sate downe, at board, hee tooke most delight to feed on. And once the Cardinal of Ostia (he that was afterwards Pope, and tooke the name of Honorius) did frendly complayne of him for it, telling him that beeing inuited to his table, he did disgrace his house with that practise.* 1.92 Nay, rather sayd the Sainct I do honour your house the more with it: because in doing it, I do honour a greater Lord then you, and I am fully resolued, neuer to forgo this prin∣cely dignity, which my Lord Iesus did assume, when he was made poore for vs; to enioy counterfeit riches for so short a tyme, as they are lent vs for our vse.

14. Al other Saynts also were doubtlesse of the same opinion; for they could neuer haue been saynts, but by contemning the world, nor contemne the world, but that this was their iudgment and opinion of it. Let vs heare what saynt Gregory Nazianzen speaketh to this purpose,* 1.93 and how he glorieth in this vertue. But they wil vpbraid me, sayth he, with the naked∣nesse, and pouerty which I professe. But these are my riches.

In this I do not only glory, but I am proud of it. For when my enemyes obiect this against me, me thinkes they obiect that I tread his foot-steppes, who when he was rich, was made poore for our sakes. And would to God it were lawful for me, to cast off euen these raggs, which you see me weare, that naked, I might escaspe from the briars of this world, which withhold and draw back those, that are running towards God.

* 1.9415. But what wonder is it, that in the light of the Ghospel, Pouerty should shine so gloriously; seing in the darknes of infidelity, it was so highly pri∣zed:

For though that kinde of Pouerty were euer odious, and contempti∣ble, which came by birth or necessity; yet voluntary pouerty, and they that did practise it, were allwayes in great veneration among al nations. Aristides a man much adored in Athens, liued in great pouerty, was euer clad in a ragged coate, and did suffer at home much cold and hunger. Whereupon when Callias a neere kinsman of his, and a moneyed man, was called in question, and cited to the barre, among other things his aduersaryes layd to his charge, that he relieued not the worthy Aristides.* 1.95 Callias perceiuing by the muttering of the Iudges,* 1.96 that they were offended at it, went to Aristides, beseeching him to depose in iudgement, with how much, and how often he had offered to furnish him, and how he had stil refused al, saying, that he gloried more in his pouertie, then Callias in al his wealth. For sayth he, there be enough to be found, that spend their great stockes in idle vses: sew that do stoutly beare the grieuances of pouerty; and that pouerty is no disgrace, but in them that are poore against their wills. Which when Aristides had deliuered with great applause before the iudges, there was no man vpon the bench, that did not much more enuy Aristides his rare pouerty, the Callias his wealth.

16. Diogenes his penurious manner of liuing,* 1.97 is also much renowned and admired; Kings and Princes often gracing his Tub with their presence. And many other Philosophers are named in this kind.* 1.98 Particularly Sainct Gregory Nazianzen relateth of Crate••, that when he had forsaken his possessions, being proud of it, and desirous that the people should know, what a great fact he had done, gat vp vpon a high stal, and cryed out aloud, Crates hath this day set Crates free. Which course he would not haue taken, but that himselfe was persuaded that to be voluntarily poore was a glorious thing, and knew that generally the people thought so.* 1.99 S. Chrysostome in his second booke against the dispraysers of Monastical life, doth handle this subiect at large, and very eloquently; and directing his speach wholy to the Gentills, and Infidells, drawes al his proofes from the grounds of natural reason. There he compares Plato, with Dionysiu•• the Tirant; Socrates with Archelaus; Diogenes with Alexander the great: and sheweth that the one are farre more renowned for their pouerty, then the other for their large dominions. And relateth how Epaminondas the Thebean being called to councel,* 1.100 and excusing him∣selfe, that he could not come, because he had that day put his coate to wahing, and had neuer another to put on, was more renowned and admired, then al the Princes that came to the meeting. Whereupon Sainct Iohn Chrysostome doth conclude, that the height of Pouertie, doth not onely appeare by the light of the Ghospel, but by force of natural rea∣son.

17. The truth of al which things,* 1.101 being so cleare and apparent, we must needs acknowledge also that this Pouerty cannot properly be called Pouerty, but rather a wealthy state, abounding in farre truer, and greater riches, then w••atsoeuer, p••i••cely treasures, & magazins. For to speake the truth of men, that are esteemed wealthy in the world, their coffers are rich, but not themselues: Their minds are voyd and empty, and as poore as I••h, allwayes crauing, as if they had little or nothing to liue on.

And so the holy ghost in the prouerbs, disciphereth them

both vnto vs,* 1.102 both the Euangelical poore, and the fasly stiled rich, in these words.* 1.103 There is a man that is rich, and hath nothing, and there is a man that is poore, amidst many riches. Wherefore S. Gregory doth rightly obserue that our Sauiour in the ghospel doth not cal these earthly riches, absolutly riches, but deceitful riches. For sayth he, they are deceitful, because they cannot long abide with vs.* 1.104 They are d••ceitful, in regard they fil not the emptines of our mind. The onely true riches are they which make vs rich in vertue S. Ambrose also, handling this matter with his wonted eloquence and copiousnes, & maintai∣ning that wisedome onely, doth make a wise man rich, hath these words. He is truly rich that in the eye of God is held so: in whose sight the whole earth is little, the compasse of the whole world is narrow: now God doth account him onely rich, who is rich in eternity, and hoardeth not wealth but vertue. Do you not thinke that he is rich, who hath peace, and tranquillity, and quiet of minde; so farre that he desireth nothing, he is not waued vp and downe by the stormes of cupidity,* 1.105 he is not weary of old things, nor seeketh new; nor in the height of riches, is kept allwayes poore, by continual crauing This is a peace which is truly rich, and doth surpasse al vnderstanding.

Great therefore is the dignity and splendor of Religious Pouerty;* 1.106 and such as al princes and wealthy men of this world may iustly enuy at, if they vnderstood it right. I wil conclude this chapter if first I declare briefely that there be 2. kinds of Religious Pouerty: (for it is a matter of consequence to vnderstand it) and both of them are very worthy in themselues, and eminent in the way of Euangelical perfection. One kinde of pouerty retaineth absolutly nothing at al, neither in priuate, nor in common: Which is the profession, which first of al S. Francis vndertooke, and after him by his example, S. Dominick and many others. The other kind of pouerty re∣taineth possession, of certaine necessarie reuenues in common only, nothing in priuate: which is that, which al the ancient Fathers professed: S. Benedict, Saint Bernard, S. Bruno and S. Basil, the most ancient of al the rest: for their Monasteries were not only indowed, with yearely rents, but with such ample possessions, as the remaynder of them doth testifie their greatnes to this day.* 1.107 Insomuch that Tri••hemius is bold to say of his order, that if it were againe in possession of al that it formerly had, without doubt S. Benedict, as he speaketh, would haue the third part of Christendome in his ••ands. Which can not seeme strange, to who∣soeuer shal cal to mind, the deuotion of those times, the mother of liberalitie towards God and his seruants. Kings and princes did take a glorie in buylding great Monasteries, in the lands belonging to their crowne and patrimonie, and in bestowing vpon them, very large possessions. And if any wealthy persons did enter into any of those religious orders (as there were very many that did) they caried their wealth in with them, and no body sayd nay, no body repined, or sued them vpon it, but did rather willingly yeald them al fauour, and furtherance.

18. So we read in the life of Placidus, that it was S. Benedict his fashion, not to suffer the goods of his monks; to be otherwise imployed, but to the maintenance of store of Gods seruants. But to say nothing of many others, the only possessions of this Placidus were so large, that he alone was Maister of great part of Sicilie, besids other things which he had: which is testified to this day by the Register of them yet extant, which is able to amaze the reader with the only length therof. And S. Bernard doth speake of it,* 1.108 in one of his Epistles, as of a wonderous thing.

To this day, sayth he, the land is shewed, which is recorded to haue been giuen with him, and for him. That S. Augustin also did the like,* 1.109 may be proued by his owne testimonie, in an Epistle of his, to certaine Nunnes; where he aduiseth them to put that in common, to the Monasterie, which they enioyed in priuate, in the world. From whence the constitution of Iustinian the Empe∣rour sprung, ordering that the goods of them, that became Monks, should, ipso facto belong to the Monasteries, where themselues were Religious. By all which, it is euident that this kind of Pouertie so much practised by the ancient Fathers, mirrours of sanctitie and wisedome (no other kind of Pouer∣tie being then in vse) is not only voyd of al imperfection, but was esteemed by them most perfect, and most conuenient to be practised.

19. S. Thomas,* 1.110 the cheef of Schoole-Diuines, doth giue vs to vnderstand no lesse; for propounding the questiō in these tearmes: Whether, to haue anything in common, doth diminish the perfection of a Religion? answereth directly, that it doth not diminish it: but rather, that it may in some cases be better, and more con∣uenient so to do. And al other Diuines agree in the same. For al is, as I haue sayd, not to haue any thing in priuate to a man's self, though in common there be something to be diuided,* 1.111 according to the forme prescribed by the Apo∣stles, to euery one as he hath need. This is the institution, so much commended by S. Hierome in the Monks of his time,* 1.112 in these words: No man can say, I want a coate, or a frock, or a mattresse. He that gouernes them, doth so distribute al things, that no man shal neede to aske.

Euery one hath what is fitting for him. If any one of them begin to be il, he is remoued into a larger roome, and cherished by the seruice of so many elder Monks, that he shal not haue euasion, to long for the delicacies that be in Citties, nor want the careful affection of a mother.

OF THE EXCELLENCY of Religious Chastity. CHAP. IIII.

POVERTY (of which I haue discoursed at large in the prece∣dent Chapter) is exceedingly graced, by the profession of Reli∣gious Chastity; And Chastity is so much the more to be admi∣red, by how much our body is dearer vnto vs then our worldly wealth, and in itself more noble. Holy Scripture commendeth Chastity with a kinde of admiration:* 1.113 O how beautifull is a chast generation with clarity? It calleth thē, that leade a chast life, beautifull, and glorious, because there is a kind of grateful comelines belonging particularly to that state, eleuated aboue the strayne of Nature, and in a manner Diuine.

2. To the end we may discouer it the better,* 1.114 it wil not be amisse, to con∣sider, how our Nature was ordered from the beginning, wherof S. Basil hath a learned discourse in his booke of true Virginity, and layeth this for his first

ground, that God when he purposed to furnish the earth, with liuing crea∣tures; would not himself create them al immediately of nothing,* 1.115 but making first a few of euery kind, ordered that the rest should descend of them, and be taken of them, as out of a kind of nursery or seed-plot. And least in so ne∣cessary a work his creatures should be slack, whereas he had distinguished them into two sexes, he gaue either sexe a strong inclination to come togea∣ther, to the end to breed of one another; which inclination is ful as strong in men, as in beasts; and for as much as concerneth generation, there is litle dif∣ference betwixt them, but that to man there is a further ground to enforce it: For the woman being taken out of the side of the man, God ordayned she should be subiect and obedient to man, as part to the whole: and on the other side, that he should beare particular affection vnto her, and desire her compa∣nie, and as it were clayme her as partie of himself, with desire to be againe ioy∣ned with her, and make two in one, and one in two, and so be two in one flesh. And to the end the loue betwixt them should be the greater, he made woman of a soft and tender mould and disposition, apt to allure man's affection by sight, speech, touching, & euery motion; both to prouoke man the more to the desire of generation, and prouide for the woman's infirmity; for she not being able to defend herself without the help of man, God tempered both their na∣tures so, that the woman's frayltie might be supported by the strength of the man, and man, though by nature stronger, should be deliuered as it were cap∣tiue, into the woman's hands, by a secret violence, as a loadstone drawes iron to it. This is Saint Basil his discourse of the nature of man, as it was first crea∣ted by God, and ordered by his al-prouident Counsel.

* 1.1163. To which if we adde the wound of Original sinne, and the general infor∣mitie and corruption of our whole nature by it, what shal we be able to say or think? For that which Saint Bernard writeth, is very true, that though al parts of our body, haue tasted of the Additiō of Leuiathan, as he tearmeth it, that is, of the poison of Concupiscence,* 1.117 and the sting of intemperate lust, this part hath most of al been taynted with it, and rageth more violently, and is more per∣niciously malignant by reason of it: in so much, that it often bandeth in re∣bellion against al deliberation, and whatsoeuer purpose of our wil: which the Saint thinks, was the cause why Circumcision (which was the reme∣die of original sinne among the Iewes) was rather ordayned in that part of the body, then in any other Wherefore seing the malignancie of this disease, and our weaknes also is so great,* 1.118 the assaults of the diuel on that side, as vpon the weakest part of our walls, so hot and fierie, so many difficulties and skir∣mishes arising otherwise; what extraordinarie vertue, what solide constancie of minde must it needs be, which in al these things is both able to abide the brunt, and goe away with victorie? This strength, this abilitie doth not certain∣ly proceed from any ground of nature, nor by our sole endeauour are we able to attayne vnto it, but it descendeth from aboue, as the Wise-man professeth when he sayth:* 1.119 I know that otherwise I could not be chaste, vnlesse God did giue it. And S. Basil in the booke aboue-mentioned doth acknowledge it say∣ing:* 1.120

It is natural to marrye, but to be chaste is a thing more excellent, aboue nature, aboue the law, no wher commanded by God, neither in the old Testa∣mēt, nor in the new; because God, would not subiect the merit of so great a ver∣tue,

to the necessity of a command, but leaue it to be a special token of a noble spirit, willingly of our owne accord, not compelled by precept or iniunction, to embrace that which soareth so high aboue nature.

4. Climacus calleth this vertue of Chastity,* 1.121 an odoriferous vertue, and sayth excellently wel, that it is supernatural, and a glorious kind of abnegation of nature,* 1.122 whereby this our mortal & corruptible body draweth neere the natu∣re of the heauenlie Spirits, which haue no bodies. That he that liueth chaste, cā∣not attribute it, to any desert or endeauour of his owne; because to ouercom na∣ture, is no easy busines; but whensoeuer we haue the vpper hand of it, we must acknowledge that it cometh frō a higher power, because nothing is ouercom but by that, which is stronger & greater then it. Which if we ponder duly, we shal easily discouer the dignity & excellency of this vertue of Continencie, and how it transformeth our minde and body, into a neere resemblance of the state of life, which the Blessed shal possesse in heauen, after the general resurrection; when we shal againe be inuested, with that which was truly out body, & truly our flesh,* 1.123 but then incorruptible and spiritual, & free from the base and ignoble qualities which heer hang vpon vs, which the Apostle calleth natural, the fun∣ction therof being the same with beasts, and particularly this power of genera∣tion, which alteration in this kind our Blessed Sauiour expressed in two words:* 1.124 They shal neither marrie, nor be married.

5. Wherefore they that performe this now vpon earth, & endeauour heer to mayntaine their flesh holy and impolluted, liue after a heauenly manner; as Saint Cyprian writing to certaine Religious women telleth vs in these wordes:* 1.125 That which we shal be hereafter, you haue now begunne to be.

Now in this world you haue attained the glory of the resurrection; you passe through the world, without thought of the world; and perseuering chast in virginity, are equal with the Angels of God.

Which wordes of S. Cyprian con∣cerning the equality of virgins, with the Angels, giue vs occasion to reflect vpon a farther dignity of this vertue, to wit, that it teacheth vs to liue in mor∣tal flesh, as if we were as Angels, not in flesh. For to be in flesh, is of it self no vn worthy thing; but to do the commaunds of the flesh, and obey the lust thereof, that is vnworthy. Wherefore they that liue spiritually, and performe not the desires of the flesh, but constantly mortify the workes thereof, they liue as the blessed Spirits that haue no flesh.* 1.126 Whereupon S. Ambrose discour∣sing of a single life, speaketh thus:

It is not contained within the boundes of nature; who then is able to comprehend it? or who can expresse with wordes of nature that, which is aboue the straine of nature? It brought from heauen that, which it imitateth vpon earth: neither without reason doth it seeke in heauen a forme of liuing, hauing found itself a spouse in heauen; surmounting the cloudes, the aire, the starres, the Angels, it found the Word of God in the bosome of his Father, and entertained it with open breast. And who would haue let passe so great a Good, hauing once found it? Fi∣nally it is not my saying only, they that do not m••rry, nor are giuen in marriage, shal be like the Angels of God in heauen: Let no man therefore wonder, if they be compared to Angels, seing they are coupled to the Lord of Angels, Cassian hath the like discourse in no lesse eloquent tearmes. To dwel in flesh,* 1.127 saith he, to be compassed round a bout with brickle flesh, and not to feele the motions of flesh, is as it were to go out of flesh, and

passe the boundes of nature. And therefore it is impossible for a man to raise himself with his owne wings, as I may say, to so lofty and so heauenly a reward, vnlesse the grace of God, by the guift of Chastity, pul him out of th•• earthly slough. For by no vertue are men of flesh so properly equalized with the spiritual Angels, by imitation of their conuersation, as by the grace and merit of Chasti••y: by which, liuing as yet vpon earth, they are (according to the Apostle) Denizens of heauen, possessing heere now in mortal flesh, that which hereafter is promised,* 1.128 that the Saints shal haue, when they haue shaken off this fleshly corruption. Let vs heare S. Gregory Naz••anzen also (so great a Diuine) speaking to the same purpose. He saith thus: You see the excellency and sublimenesse of this vertue is such, as can hardly be conceaued or appre∣hended. For is it not a thing surpassing the frayltie of flesh, that that which is borne of flesh, should not breed of flesh? Is it not euidently an Angelical kind of life, to be confined in flesh, and not to liue according to flesh, but to crow ouer nature?

Flesh blindes vs to the world, reason rayseth vs to God. Flesh holdes vs downe, Reason lifts vs, and in a manner giues vs wings. Flesh im∣prisoneth vs, but Loue settes vs free.

5. Wherefore vnlesse we wil wilfully shut our eyes, and not giue way to Reason, we must needes admire the great splendour of Chastity, which ranketh vs, not with Kings and Princes (an honour so much hunted after by men) but with the celesti••al Powers and Principalities.* 1.129 And yet S. Bernard steppeth a degree further, be••ng bold to say,

that he that liueth chast, is to be commended aboue the Angels: And his reason is cleare; What is more beauti∣full, sayth he, then Chastity, which cleanseth him that is conceaued by vn∣cleane generation, and maketh a familiar friend of an enemie, a man an Angle•• A man that is chaste, dissereth somewhat from an Angel, but in happinesse, not in ve••tue ••f the Angel's chastity be more happy, man's is more heroical. Chastity is the onlie vertue, which representeth v••to vs the state of immortal glory, in this time and place of mortality, Chastity alone amidst the solemnities of mar∣riage, challengeth as a glorious thing the life of that happy countrey, where they s••al neither marry nor be marryed, giuing vs in earth a taste of that heauenly conuersation. Chastity preserueth the frayle vessel, which we beare about vs, which of en is in hazard of breaking, and preserueth it, as the Apostle spea••eth, to sanctification; and serues vs as a most odoriferous balsame, to keepe our bodies incorrupted. It refraineth our senses, it bindeth our mem∣bers from loosse idlenesse, from corrupt desires, from the rotten pleasures of flesh,* 1.130 that it be not with vs, as we read of some, that they were as rotten as beastes in their dung. Saint Chrysostome iumpeth with S. Bernard in the com∣mendation of this vertue;* 1.131 and expresseth himself in these words: In what did Elias, Elizeus, Iohn, true louers of integrity, differ from the Angels? Truly in nothing, but that they were by nature mortal: as for the rest, if a man looke narrowly into it, he shal find them no otherwise affected, then those bles∣sed Spirits: and that their nature was of an inferiour mould, turnes rather to their greater commendation.

For to the end, that earth-dwelling and mor∣tal men should, by the strength of their endeauour, arriue to so great a vertue, with what fortitude must they be endewed?* 1.132 What rare course of life must they necessarily hold? We may adde S. Basil, who in the booke aboue mōtioned

of Virginity, discourseth after this manner:

They that preserue themselues con∣tinent, are certainly Angels in corruptible flesh, and do excessiuely honour the mortal life which they leade. They are Angels of no meane ranke, but most glorious, and most noble: they that are in heauen free from the encum∣bers of flesh, preserue their integrity, because both by nature and by their pla∣ce, they are impregnable, seated neare to the soueraigne King of al, our God. But the others vpon earth, striue many yeares with the pleasures and allure∣ments of flesh, and by their continual endeauours ouercoming the temptations of the Diuel, with rare courage and constancy, liue in the sight of their Crea∣tour, in incorruption, equal in purity with the Angels.

7. Thus you see how these holy Fathers extol Continency and Chastity to the dignity of Angels Others lift it yet higher,* 1.133 and place it in the next degree to the Diuine purity. Climacus amongst the rest aduentureth to say, that Chastity is the nearest similitude,* 1.134 which man can possibly haue with God: who as he is neyther corporal, nor corruptible, delighteth much in integrity, and incorruption: Contrary-wise the Diuels delight in dishonesty; and there want not wise men, that say, they reioyce in no vice so much, as in that. But S. Basil goeth more profoundly to work.* 1.135 Virginity, sayth he, is a rare and excellent thing: and to comprehend al in a word, it maketh a man most like to the incorruptible God.

It procedeth not from the body to the soule; but being properly in the soule, by the integrity therof, a thing most pretious, our bodies also are preserued intire. The soule receauing impression from the true Good, and from the desire therof, is lifted vp to that Good, by the holines of Chastity, as by a forcible wing, and so endeauouring to serue and please the like with the like, that is, the incorruptible God, with purity incorruptible, it leadeth the integrity of the body, as a handmaid, to the seruice of the se••f same highest Good. And so the saithful soule preseruing itself pure and vnspot∣ted, from al kind of filth, arriueth at last to haue within itself, as in the finest cristal-seing-glasse, the similitude of God; God himself by his many graces infusing his glory and likenes into it, as it were by a most sweet streame or ray therof.

8. What can be sayd more honourable, or expresse more clearly the dignity of Chastity, then that from this dust and dirt of ours, it raiseth vs to the ranke of Angels, and not Angels only, but to the likenes and similitude of God himself? what wil take a man with admiration, if this do not? what dignity wil not iustly seeme base and sordide, compared with this heauenly honour? This is that great happines, which was anciently so much desired by man,* 1.136 that the old crafty Serpent could find no other motiue more forcible, to bring our first parents to his bent, then to promise them, they should be as Gods. But that, which was falsely promised by him, that could not performe what he promised, and promised by a way, by which it could not be compassed, we by Chastity do truly attaine vnto and firmely possesse, doubtles the more solidly, the more perfectly Chastity is grounded in vs.

9. And because it is euident, by what hath been said, that Religious Cha∣stity is in itself very excellent, we wil consider a litle, in what degeee it is excellent aboue al other kinds of Chastity: as gold doth not only differ in kind from of other inferiour metals, but some gold is finer then other some,

by many degrees.* 1.137 A few things considered in the nature of Chastity wil easily discouer this vnto vs. It is ordinary in euery thing, that the more white, the more beautifull, one more neat a thing is, the more foule and deformed is the spot also that falles vpon it: And so it is in Chastity; no vertue is more tender then it. Aegidius one of the first companions of S. Francis was wont to com∣pare it to a Cristall-looking-glasse, which the very breath doth slaine. Others compare the contrary inticements to a flame of fire, which alwayes leaueth some mark behind it, greater or lesser, according as the flame doth continue. Nothing therfore can be worse for Chastity, then to leaue it in a place, where it may come by many rubbs and assaults, such as the world is. For it cannot be, but as Cassian writeth,* 1.138 (not only out of his owne dictamen, but deliue∣ring it as the sense of all those ancient Fathers) that whosoeuer is in continuall battaile▪ though he often giue his aduersary the foyle, yet sometimes he must needes be trou∣bled, or also wounded. But Chastity garded with the fences of Religion, and therby drawen out of danger of al earthly things, receiueth no such dammage; for eyther the dartes of the enemy come not neare it, or they leese their force before, and so their stroke is without effect.

* 1.139••0. Moreouer Chastity in Religion findeth many helps to preserue it self, and particularly a spare diet, which Pouerty doth in a manner necessarily bring with it. For that which S. Hierome deliuereth (an authour certainly to be cre∣dited) is very true. It is hard to preserue Chastity at a full board of dainties. It hath also another Antidote, of which the same S. Hierome writeth to Rusticus.* 1.140 Loue the knowledge of holy Scriptures, and the corruption of flesh thou wilt not loue. For where do people more frequently and more earnestly studie the holy Scriptures, and al other good things, then in Religion? It hath humility and obedience, two special helps, and so inward to the state of Religion, & withal so present and efficacious a remedy of this disease, that none can be eyther more hole∣some or more at hand amongst those which God hath left vs. Of the one Saint Bernard writeth thus vpon those words of our Sauiour,* 1.141 Blessed are the meek because they shal possesse the earth.

By this earth I vnderstand our body, which if a soule intend to possesse, if it desire to haue commaund ouer the members therof, it self must needs be meek, and subiect to Superiours. For as it self is to the Superiour which it hath, so shal it find that, which is inferiour to itself. And therfore the soule that finds the flesh rebellious vnto it, must vnderstand that itself also is not so subiect to Superiours powers as it ought to be;

Of humility S. Gregorie doth often speake in this kind,* 1.142 and particularly in his Mo∣rals thus: The vnspot••ednes of Chastitie is to be preserued by preseruing humility. For if our spirit be deuoutly kept downe vnder God, our flesh wil not vnlawfully be lifted vp aboue our spirit. The spirit hath the rule ouer the flesh committed vnto it, if so be notwithstanding, it acknowledge the dutie of lawful sub∣ject on vnder God. For if it prowdly contemne him that is the Creatour of it, it is reason it should be combatted by the flesh that is the subiect. Therupon that first disobedient man, as soone as by pride he had sinned, he couered his naked parts; for by reason he had put a spirituall disgrace vpon God, he presently found the disgrace of his flesh, & he that would not be subiect to his Creatour, lost the right of command one•• his flesh, which before he ruled.

11. This is the armour, with which Religion doth defend the most beau∣tiful

flower of Chastitie, not only perfectly, but with a great deale of ease and sweetnes. It vseth watching, fasting, and disciplines, and the like auste∣rities, but these vertues of which I haue spoken, and whereof Religion is the proper seate, togeather with the warines and custody, which I mentioned be∣fore, are the chiefest defence: by them it may easily, and without any great trouble be conserued all our life time, free from the least corruption, and wholy vnspotted; the body chast, intire, vnpolluted, and (which is the prin∣cipal) the mind itself pure, innocent, vndefiled. What can be more honourable in this frayle, and slipperie life? honourable certaynly in itself, yet the more to be esteemed, because it is rare, and a guift imparted by God to few. Others through the heat of Concupiscence, do as it were fry in the fornace of their owne flesh:* 1.143 they that haue receaued this heauenly guift in the same fornace of flesh, be, as anciently the three Children, attended by Angels, who loue this vertue aboue the rest; and are not only nothing annoyed by the fire of lustful concupiscence, but feele a coole dewie wind blowing vpon them, which doth so temper, and abate that parching heate, which is so general to al, that nothing is more easie, or more delightful to them, then to liue chast.

12. Moreouer in Religion, so soone as a body hath obliged himself by so∣lēne vow to perpetual Chastitie, the power of vsing not only al vnlawful plea∣sure, but euen of Marriage,* 1.144 is so wholy cut off, that al Marriages are eue•• after vtterly voyd, as if they were contracted with a dead body; which giues no smal addition to the dignitie of Religious Chastitie: because if it be laudable to ab∣staine from the vnseemlines of tha•• pleasure, certainly the farther a body doth withdraw himself from it, the more laudable, and more glorious it is vnto him. Now no man can be farther off from it, then he that had bound himself to such a state of life, wherein, though he would, he cannot vse it. For that which we cannot do by right, and lawfully, is truly impossible for vs to do. Which is the point, our Sauiour would giue vs to vnderstand in the Ghospel, by the name of those Eunuches, which neither nature, nor art of man made so but them∣selues made themselues Eunu••hes, for the Kingdome of God. Which, as it were foolish and absurd to vnderstand of the cutting of the body, so it is euidently to be taken for voluntarie continencie, and not for euery kind of continencie, but for that, which doth not only barre the act, but doth for euer cut of al power to the act. The words of our Sauiour import as much; for he doth not say, they that do continually gueld themselues, which might perhaps be applied to such, as with a setled resolution, to bridle themselues in this kind, should liue chast; but he saith: Qui se castrauerunt; They that haue guelded themselues; pointing at those that by once making a vow, haue bereaued themselues of al power of vsing any such act euer after. The excellencie and dignitie of which thing is diuinely declared vnto vs, by the Prophet Esay,* 1.145 who being wholy rauished, with the splendour of the Ghospel, among other commendations thereof, doth also fal vpon this, in these words. Let not the Eunuch say; behold I am a dry tree, withered away, because this sayth our Lord to the Eunuches: They that shal haue kept my Sabbaoths, and chosen that, which I would haue, and kept my, couenant I wil giue them a place within my house, & within my walls, & a name better then Sonnes, & Daughters: I wil giue thē an euerlasting name, which shal not perish. Who are these Eu∣nuches, to whom this is sayd, and promised, but Religious people? They keepe

the Sabbaoth of our Lord, alwayes abstayning from the toylesome and serui•• works of earthly businesses, and wholy attending vpon God; they haue made a couenant with God, & confirmed it by Vow; they make choice of that, which God would haue done, because by the conduct of Obedience, they depart not a haires-breadth, from the performance of his holy wil. These men therefore, though they attend not to generation, and haue moreouer bereaued them∣selues of the power therof; haue not any reason notwithstanding to be sory for it, or to esteeme themselues therefore barren and vnfruitful, because in the house of God, they shal haue something, that is farre better and more happie, then sonnes an•• daughters in the world. Which, as S. Basil doth discourse vpon it,* 1.146 is not only to dwel in his house, but to be in that ranke and place therin, as shal farre surpasse al the splendour and dignitie, which succession of children might haue brought them; And not only so, but, as S. Augustin addeth,* 1.147 they shal haue a peculiar glorie proper to themselues, & not common t•• the rest, that liue in the same house and kingdome; which therefore perhaps is learned a Name, because by it they shal be distinguished from al other people. Which glorie, and eminent dignitie, and happines, no doubt but the Holie-Ghost did also intend to expresse in that other passage of holy Scripture. Happie is the barren,* 1.148 and vndefiled, and the Eunuch, that hath not wrought iniquitie with his hands, nor thought mischeeuous things against God. The choice gui••t of faith s••al be ••iuen him, and a most acceptable portion in the temple of God. Who can think that this most welcome, or (as it is heere tearmed) most acceptable portion, is promised to any other Eunuchs, then the Eunuchs of God, who haue vo∣luntarily depriued themselues for euer of al delights of this nature, and not without some trouble and difficultie, as it were, cutting away part of their bo∣die; so that not without reason, God may be sayd to owe them a greater recom∣pence of future pleasure and delights diuine. Wherefore it cannot be, but that the honour & dignitie of Chastitie, must be very great, seing it shineth euen in that heauenly glorie aboue the rest. And what may we think of the light and splēdour, which it hath in the darknes of this world, seing in that height of glo∣rie & splendour of the Saints, it is so farre from being obscured, that it rather addeth grace & brightnes to their glorie? we may iustly make account that this state of continen••ie is a most curious rich iewel, vnknowne a long time vpon earth, but brought from heauen by our Sauiour IESVS, and first consecrated in his owne and his Blessed Mothers flesh, then deliuered to his Spouse the Church, to the end that decked therewith, and her grace and beautie highly set forth by it, she might be the more welcome and amiable, both to her Spouse, and God her father. For as S. Hierome noteth, In the old law there was a kind of felicitie,* 1.149 which called him blessed that had seed in Syon, and promise of riches. But presently when the Sonne of God set foot on earth, he enacted a new law in his owne behalf, to wi••, that he that by the Angels was adored in heauen, should haue also Angels be r•• vpon earth.

Of the dignitie of Religious Obedience. CHAP. V.

IT followeth that we speake something in brief, of the dignitie of Obedience; which though we should be lesse capable to vn∣derstand by other meanes, the example and iudgement of our Lord and Sauiour Christ may be a sufficient testimonie of it; finding, as we do, that he did so highly esteeme of it. For as a man, that hath no skil in iewels and pretious stones, if he see another, that is skilful, buy a stone at a high rate, and after he hath bought it, be very cha∣rie of it, and set greatly by it, cannot choose but think it was worth his mo∣ney: so in weighing the deserts of whatsoeuer vertue, but chiefly of this of Obedience, we must not rule our selues so much by reason, as by the example of him, who, as we know, was Wisdome itself, and could not mi∣stake or be ignorant of what he did.* 1.150 Now that he did value Obedience at a very high rate, is euident, because whatsoeuer he did, or sayd, or proiected in his life-time, though al other vertues had a part in it, is notwithstanding in a manner wholy ascribed to Obedience. For of himself he sayth, that he came downe from heauen, not to do his owne wil, but the wil of his Father that sent him. And S. Paul ascribeth his whole life and death, and the particular manner of his death, wholy to Obedience; He was made obedient to death, yea the death of the Crosse. Finally S. Bernard affirmeth,* 1.151 that he preferred Obedience before his life, choosing rather to die, then not to obey. Obedience ther∣fore must needs be a great vertue, or rather there is something diuine, and more then vertue in it; seing the Sonne of God, the sampler of perfection, he that came of purpose to put vs into the way of perfection, did himself so seriously practice it, and commended it to vs, to be no lesse seriously obserued by vs.* 1.152 S. Thomas doth giue this manifest reason of the impor∣tance and excellencie of it;

for as, sayth he, in natural things it was necessarie, that the things which are higher, should moue the inferiour by the abundance of natural vertues instilled by God into them; so in humane gouernment, good order did require, that one should direct another, by force of authoritie and power communicated by God; which direction depending of reason and wil, is not executed but by precept and command. Wherein, as the same Saint affirmeth, as the rule of our actions is no humane thing, but the first rule of al is the Diuine Wil, gouerning and ru∣ling al other wils, whereof one is more neere vnto him then another, according to the order which God himself hath instituted.

Which discourse of S. Thomas doth clearly discouer vnto vs the noblenesse of Obedience, because it conioyneth our wil and iudgement intirely with God; in which coniunction al perfection of men and Angels doth consist. For neither almes-deeds, nor preaching of the word of God, nor what∣soeuer

austeritie (and why should I stand to reckon vp al particulars?) Mar∣tyrdome itself is of no esteeme nor merit, vnlesse it haue relation to the performance of the Wil of God.* 1.153 Wherefore, as Charitie is vsually called the Queene of Vertues, Obedience certainly is the next vnto it, and resem∣bleth it very much in al things; for both of them conioyne vs with God; both of them make vs to accept or refuse that, which God desireth or refu∣seth: The difference is, that Charitie worketh in nature of a friend, Obe∣dience in nature of a subiect; so that, though the manner be different the thing is the same, and the profit no lesse of the one then of the other; and in it we see the excellencie of Obedience, whereof we speake, in regard that going through al our actions, it directeth them by a rule Diuine, to wit, by the self-same rule, wherewith the actions of God himself are directed. And what dignitie can be greater in anie creature? Vpon which ground, Diuines do stile Obedience the forme or sampler of other vertues, because the actions of al other vertues do ayme at nothing els, but to performe the commands of God.

* 1.1543. Whereunto we may adde another excellencie, to wit, that though it be a peculiar vertue by itself, yet it hath a general extent to al things, compre∣hending whatsoeuer may happen in the life of man. For whosoeuer giueth himself wholy ouer, and subiected himself wholy to another man, reserueth nothing at al, neither place, nor worke, nor any employment, neither out∣ward nor inward busines. So that, whether he be in action or out of action▪ whether he remayne stil in a place, or be vpon going; whether he vndertake, or leaue, or alter from this busines or the other; whether the matter be great or smal, he is absolutely obliged in al things, & true Obedience taketh hold, & seasoneth and perfecteth al.* 1.155 And moreouer al vertues concurre in it, and, as it were, attend vpon it, to the perfecting of a most admirable peece of worke, compounded of many gemmes and pretious stones. For no man can euer sub∣iect himself wholy to another man, vnlesse he be first greatly inflamed with the loue of God, and haue placed his whole trust and confidence vpon him; he must also haue great and profound humilitie, patience, fortitude, constan∣cie, and al other vertues; for if Obedience want anie of them, it wil quickly beginne to halte, and suddainly fayle, and fal to the ground.

4. But nothing doth shew the excellencie of this Vertue more, then the consideration of the matter, to which it doth extend itself; which al Maisters of Spirit assigne to be threefold.* 1.156 First, al outward things commanded by Su∣periours, the execution whereof belongeth to Obedience; which is the lowest and least part of Obedience, and of itself very imperfect, and if nothing els concurre with it, it is but such as slaues and brute beasts haue, which are ruled by outward force, but their wil doth not concurre therunto. The second degree therefore is a step higher, and comprehendeth the wil, which as S. Gregorie speaketh,* 1.157 is killed and sacrificed by Obedience: For the wil of the subiect conspiring with the wil of his Superiour, they are both perfectly conioyned togeather, or rather the subiect wholy casting off and rooting out his owne wil, hath the wil of the Superiour fully ingrafted in him, and is moued and wealded by it euery way, as if it were his owne. The

third and highest degree of this Vertue, is to subiect also our reason and iudgement to the iudgement of our Superiours; and not only to wil, but to think the self same thing with them, and esteeme it right, reaso∣nable, and profitable, whatsoeuer they shal ordaine; in a word, that their onlie beck beare such an authoritie in our minde, that vnlesse it be apparently contrarie to the knowne commandment of God, their iudgement and opinion do wholy swey ours, and lead it captiue af∣ter it.

5. This is,* 1.158 as it were, the feature and beautiful countenance of Obe∣dience, which if men could behold with their corporal eyes, they would be greatly inflamed with the comelie sight and noble aspect therof. Obe∣dience also is a guift presented to the Diuine Maiestie; wherefore looke how much the thing which is presented, is iustly to be valued, so much is Obedience to be prized. Now what hath man more worthie or more deare vnto him, then reason and wil? For to be a man, he must haue them both, and consequently loue them as much as he loues himself. For if naturally we loue our flesh and bone, and the least parcel of them, so dearely, that to preserue them we wil take any paines; what affection must we needes haue to those higher parts, parts more noble, and more essential to the nature of man? and so we find, that nothing is more natural to vs, then to preserue not only the powers of our wil and vnderstanding, but the verie vse and actions of them. The proper act of our wil, is libertie; the proper act of our vnderstanding, is to passe our iudgement vpon a thing. Wherefore euerie man doth so naturally and so violently desire to haue his owne saying, and his owne wil, in euerie thing: which is more apparent, when (as oftentimes it hapneth) the thing itself is but a trifle; but it pleaseth vs to haue it so, because we wil be free. If a thing be forbidden, the very forbidding of it doth whet our desire, for no other reason, but because, as I said, the sweetnes of libertie doth of itself delight vs. Wherefore seing these things beare such swey in vs, the difficultie must needes be the greater in breaking the violent course of them; and so much the greater, then in ouercoming anie other natural propension, by how much we are carryed towards them by a more violent current. If therefore we put al these things togeather, the greatnes of the oblation comprehending in it self so manie things; the worth of these two things, which we offer; the labour and difficultie, which is in offe∣ring; we shal easily vnderstand the excellencie of Religious Obedience, and how farre it doth surpasse the bounds of Nature, seing it cannot possibly be accomplished, but by perfect ouercoming and subduing Na∣ture. In which sense S. Gregorie doth interpret that saying of the Wise∣man;* 1.159 The Obedient man shal speake victories; because, saith he, while we humbly subiect ourselues to an other's voice,* 1.160 we ouercome ourselues within our harts.

6. But that, which doth shew the magnificence of Obedience more then anie thing els, is, that not only things, which are euil, or such as are but meanely good, but things very specially good, cōpared with Obedience, doe leese of their

light and beautie as the starres in presence of the Sunne. It is S. Gregorie's saying (who in my opinion, among al the holie Fathers did best vnderstand, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 best declared the nature of euerie vertue) and he doth not intend to carrie it by his sole authoritie,* 1.161 but he proueth it by holie Scripture: Better is obedience then sacrifice. You may see, saith S. Gregorie, in what height of perfection the vertue of Obedience is placed, the Prophet beholding it in a higher eleuation, then the diuine oblations. And if we wil follow the spiritual sense, Sacrifices haue relation to great austeritie of conuersation;

Holocaustes to the compun∣ction of a retired life. Better therefore is Obedience then Sacrifice; and to harken, rather then to offer the fat of rammes: because it is of farre higher de∣sert, alwayes to subiect our owne wil to the wil of another, then to pinch our bodyes by extremitie of fasting, or to kil our selues by compunction, in a more priuate Sacrifice. For what is the fat of rammes, but an inward and oylie deuotion? But yet Obedience is better, because he that hath learned perfectly to fulfil the wil of his directour, doth passe in the heauenlie Kingdome those that do fast and weep.

Thus saith S. Gregorie.

* 1.1627. Finally, in my iudgement, the greatnes of the often Miracles, which haue been wrought by Obedience, are a most certain proofe & euident confirma∣tion of the excellencie of it. For as if a man doe manie things aboue the course of Nature, we take it for a signe of great sanctitie in him; so among vertues we may vse the same argumēt, &, as I may say, canonize them the rather, & esteeme them worthie of veneratiō, the more their gratefulnes to God hath been shew∣ed by miracles. But who can reckon the miracles, which haue been wrought by Obedience? Al books are ful of them; especially the Liues of the ancient Fa∣thers, who haue giuen good proof to the world, how highly this vertue is to be esteemed. S. Paul,* 1.163 disciple of great S. Antonie, is much renowned for it. For as he was greater then his maister, in the power of miracles, as to whom S. Antonie was wont to send those that himself could not cure; so by S. Anthonie his owne confession there was no other cause of it, but Obedience; which he was euer wont to point at, as a patterne for others to imitate; & manie notable facts of his in this kind are to be seen vpon record to this day.* 1.164 Iohn is also very famous in this kind, who being by his Abbot in ieast bid to bring a lionesse vnto him, ta∣king it as spoken in earnest, did not only not feare least she should fal vpon him, but following her when she fled, and crying after her in his Abbot's name to stand, tooke her, and brought her bound to the Monasterie. What shal we say of him, that by command of his Abbot cast his sonne into a burning furna∣ce, and tooke hi•• out againe whole & found? He certainly imitated Abraham, in offering his sonne; but in the greatnes of the miracle he went beyond him, when he receaued him safe againe. An other Iohn for 3. yeares togeather wate∣red a dry stake euerie day, as he was commanded, and fetched his water a great way of: At last it bore greene leaues and fruit, which his Maister gathering brought to the church, and said to the Bretheren: Behold the fruit of Obedience. No lesse wonderful is that, which Climacus recordeth of a yong man called In∣nocentius. This man in his life-time was much deuoted to the vertue of Obe∣dience▪ and after his death and burial, being called vpon and asked whether he were dead or no, he answered with a loude voice: That the obedient man could not dye. That, which is related of S. Columbanus, is also very

memorable, that coming to the Monasterie of Luxouium which himself had founded; and finding almost al sick, he vsed no other physick, but called them al into the court to thresh the corne in the heat of the sunne. A hard task, especially for some of them, that were so feeble that they could hardly stand on their legs. Some of them, that thought themselues wiser and warier then the rest, kept themselues in their beds; others desirous to obey, came downe to their worke: al these were presently so perfectly cured of their disease, that they felt not so much as any grudging of it; the others punished for their slacknes and distrust, had their agues al the yeare long, as S. Columban, reprehending and blaming them, had foretold.

8. In the histories of the ancient Fathers we reade of an other strange acci∣dent, wherein also we may see what Obedience is, compared with other vertues. Two natural brethren liued in one Monasterie; one of them practi∣sed Obedience very much; the other gaue himself to much austeritie. This last, to try the other's sanctitie, commanded him to goe into a riuer that was ful of crocodiles; which he did without delay; and the cruel serpents came fawning vpon him, and licked his feete. Not long after they hapned both vpon a dead man's bodie, and falling ioyntly to their prayers, the man came to life: Which the Monke, that was giuen to fasting, secretly in his thoughts attributed to himself; but his Abbot chid him sharply for it, hauing vnder∣stood by reuelation, that it was not his fasting, but the other's obedience that obtained it.

9. Such therefore is the dignitie of Obedience, as to be worthie to be declared by such extraordinarie miracles. And no wonder. For they that liue in Obedience, haue put themselues wholy into the hands of God, to be entirely possessed and gouerned by him. And consequently that, which is in the Prophet Esay,* 1.165 is fulfilled in them: Thou shalt be a crowne of glorie in my hand, and a kinglie diadome in the hand of thy God. From which glorie and excellentie, the commodities also doe follow, which are there mentioned: Thou shalt no longer be called the forsaken, and thy land shal be no more called desolate, but thou shalt be called: My wil in it. Which glorious name, and much more the thing it self, to whome doth it more fitly agree, then to a Religious man, who by obedience is so wholy, as I sayd, in God's pos∣session, that the Diuine wil is in him alwayes most perfectly performed in al things? Men therefore may reioice, if they wil, in whatsoeuer other titles of honour, and be called Kings, and Princes, and Cardinals: A Religious soule hath farre more solid ground of ioy in this name, which God hath imposed, and wherein is briefly comprized al that is Good, My wil is in it.

That a Religious man is aboue al earthlie things; and how glorious this is. CHAP. VI.

IF the dignitie of euerie one of these Vowes by itself be so very great as we haue shewed, what splendour and dignitie must needs arise of them al, when they meet togeather, as they do in a Religious state, it consisting wholy of these three Vowes concurring in one, with al that which is good and excellent in them, to make, vphold, and adorne the nature, substance, and essence of Religion?* 1.166 which once set on foot and vndertaken (besides the seueral greatnesses and ornaments, which rise of seueral things in it) it hath one general operation, rare and admirable, to wit, that it breedes in him, that embraces it, so generous, so noble, and so loftie a disposition of minde, that seated aboue al worldlie things, he beholds them as things vnworthie to be regarded, he despiseth them, he sets them at naught, and contemnes them, and doth not only not hunt after them, as worldlings, who wholy employ themselues in the pursuit of them, and runne into so manie debates and differences among themselues about them; but when they are offered, he refuseth them; when he had plentie of them, he cast them away; he spurnes at them as dirt, or, as we sayd before out of the Apostle,* 1.167 he loathes them as dung, which, as base and stinking, is hateful. How proper this disposition of minde is to a Religious state, and how naturally and how deeply it is ingrafted in it, S. Gregorie wil tel vs,* 1.168 de∣scribing his owne state of minde in both his changes, when first he was Re∣ligious, and afterwards chosen Pope of Rome. These are his words: Desi••ing nothing in this world, nor fearing anie thing from it, I seemed to myself to stand, as it were, vpon the top of al things; in so much that I did almost think that fulfilled in me,* 1.169 which by the promise of our Lord I had learned out of the Prophet: I wil lift thee vp aboue the heighths of the earth; for he is lifted aboue the heighths of the earth, who, by contempt of minde, treades vnder foot the things, which seeme in the world high and glorious. But sud∣denly blowne off, by the tempest of this temptation, from the heighth I was in, I am fallen into feares and tremblings; for though in behalf of my self I doe not feare, yet of those, that are committed to my charge, I greately stand in feare.

* 1.1702. Which is not the sense of S. Gregorie only; but S. Gregorie hauing taken it from Religion, it is the general perswasion of al Religious people, that liue according to their Rule, and indeed of Religion itself. Al haue this spirit infused into them, togeather with the minde and reso∣••••••ion, which is giuen them to forsake the world: For they could not for∣sake it, but that they contemne it; nor could they contemne it but that they

are raysed in minde aboue it. And they forsake not only that, which they haue in present (which oftimes is but a smal matter) but the desire and greedines of hauing, which hath a great extent, or rather hath no bounds at al, but reacheth absolutly to al things. Wherefore no Religious man must think so meanely of this his oblation, as to conceaue that it is little, which he offers to God, when he barres himself by the Vow of Pouertie from possessing anie thing vpon earth: because he doth not only offer that which he had, or that which might haue befallen him, or which he might haue gotten by industrie, but absolutly the whole world. Which we learne by the example of S. Peter, who certainly left not much, yea rather that which he left, was little or nothing, and yet he did not stick to say, as we read in S. Mathew: Behold, we haue left al things. Of which profession S. Augustin writes to Paulinus that,* 1.171 which agreeth fitly to Religious persons:* 1.172 The fisher-men, that at the voice of our Sauiour forsooke their nets and their little boats, boasted with great ioy that they had left al things, and followed our Lord.

And he contemneth al things, who contemnes not only what he could, but what he would haue had. The difference is, that the eyes of God only are witnesses, of what a man would haue had; of that which a man had,* 1.173 man also is witnes.

S. Gregorie is of the same opinion, testifying that S. Peter and S. Andrew are therefore to be sayd, to haue left much; because they left the desire of hauing anie thing, the affection being more to be weighed, then the substance, which we doe forsake. He left much, sayth he, that retayned nothing to himself; he left much that left al, though al were neuer so little.

3. This is that, which al Religious people doe; For they depriue not them∣selues only of the possession of things, but cast away al desire of whatsoeuer things in the world: Which whosoeuer doth, hath the whole world vnder his feete, and consequently hath not only whereof greatly to reioice, and account himself happie in the peace, and tranquillitie, and pleasure of his mind; but is to be accounted in honour and dignitie higher then Kings and Princes, not∣withstanding their dominions and commands;* 1.174 and may be fitly compared to the Eagle, which (as holie Scripture speaketh) is raysed at the command of God,* 1.175 and buildeth his neast in craggie places. Vpon which wordes S. Gregorie dis∣courseth in this manner:

This is a special token of the Elect, that they know so to walke the paths of this present life, as by certaintie of hope to discouer, when they are arriued to the high places, where they may behold al transi∣torie things beneath them, and, through the loue of Eternity, tread, what∣soeuer is high in the world, vnder their feete. From whence it is, that God by the Prophet sayth to the soule,* 1.176 that followeth him: I wil lift thee vp aboue the heighths of the earth. The low places of the earth are losses, reproaches, po∣uertie, contempt, which the louers of the world, walking the playnes of the broad way, doe not cease to treade vnder foot, by auoiding them. The heighths of the earth are Interest, flatteries of seruants and subiects, aboundance of wealth, honour, and heighth of promotion, which they, that creepe stil vpon the ground through earthlie desires, esteeme high; because they make account there is some great matter in them: but if our hart be once fixed in heauenlie things, presently it appeareth how abiect that is, which before seemed high.

* 1.1774. Thus farre S. Gregorie; whereunto we may adde further, that as the Eagle, which is heer described, doth not only soare on high, but build also in high places: so may we say of Religious people, and apply it fitly vnto them. For as to fly, is laborious, importing a continual strife and contention, and consequently cannot be perpetual; but in the neast a bird is quiet, and setled at case; so we may obserue the like difference among men, which follow vertuous courses. For they, that by strength of consideration only and desire, rayse themselues from the earth, as manie secular people doe, certainly doe very wel; but it is, as it were, by force and strength of armes: and that which S. Augustin bewayled in himself,* 1.178 must needes befal them, But I fal back into the same, through the weight of my miseries, and am swallowed-vp againe by my wonted defects; and they hold me, and I weepe bitterly; but they hold me very strongly, so heauie is the burthen of Cuslome vpon me. But they, who haue builded their neast on high, doe both spare this wearisomnes of contention and strife with themselues, and repose at ease. The neast of a Religious man, is the state itself. And haue not then Religious people placed their neast on high, seing their state is raysed aboue al things created? In which height they containe themselues, not only without anie difficultie, but with exceeding pleasure, abhorring nothing more, then to stoope to these base things againe, which both in minde and deed they haue set at naught.

5. And that we may the better conceaue both the great honour and profit of a minde thus seated on high, as the Scripture expresseth vnto vs in the simi∣litude afore-sayd, let vs imagin with ourselues, that we see a man raysed by degrees so high from the ground, vp into the ayre, that at last we behold him seated vpon the verie cloudes looking downe vpon vs. For by this repre∣sentation, which cannot be verifyed in a bodie, we shal come to vnderstand, what may be donne, and is dayly acted, in the minde. For if a man were seated so high, as I say, vpon the cloudes, manie things were considerable in him: First, that al would admire him; secondly if he had any enemie vpon earth, he were in safetie, quite out of his reach; thirdly, these inferiour things being so farre beneath him, would not trouble his sight; manie of them he would not see at al.* 1.179 The like doth happen to a soule, when God hath raysed it from this earthlie dust and filth, and placed it in the eminent eleuation of Religion. For it getteth presently a kind of noblenes of hart, farre more ex∣cellent then that, which worldlie honour, or promo••ion, or birth, doth rayse a man vnto;* 1.180 as S. Cyprian auoucheth in these wordes: He that hath renounced the world, is aboue al honours and kingdomes: and therefore he that con∣secrateth himself to God and our Sauiour, desireth no earthlie but heauenlie kingdomes. Which admirable worth of a Religious soule, doth not only lye open to the eyes of God (which were indeed enough) but it is most com∣monly very apparent to men; for though they be not willing to imitate, yet they cannot but admire, those that put themselues vpon these high courses.

Whereupon S. Hie••cme sayth very truly,* 1.181 that, to haue riches, is nothing commendable, but to contemne them for Christ our Sauiour; nor to gape after honour, but to neglect it: and after a strange manner of reuolution, they that haue these things, are neglected; and they that wil not haue them, are much commended.

6. Religious people moreouer are not subiect to chances and misfortunes,* 1.182 as other men are. For what power can chance haue ouer them, who forsaking al changeable things haue barred it quite out from them▪ and consequently, as it were, placed aboue the windes, are neuer moued, but are constant in al euents, and in a perpetual calme; which calme or tranquilitie of minde, were it to be bought for gold, what would not be giuen for it? But gold wil not buy it, nor is it to be purchased by any earthlie thing, but by contemning al things: because whatsoeuer earthlie thing thou hast, thou mayst loose it; but he that hath forsaken al things, hath nothing, by the losse whereof he may be either hurt or troubled; so that this continual and neuer-changeable peace of minde, this minde and countenance which in al euents is euer the same (such as S. A••hanasius doth tel vs that S. Antonie did alwaies carrie) is proper to a Reli∣gious state.* 1.183 And the same doth place vs beyond the reach of al the firie darts of our malignant Enemie; so that either they come not neare vs, or are easily auoy∣ded; which S. Cyprian doth expresse very wel in these words:

What power and strength hath such a minde? not only cleansed, and pure, and vntouched by whatsoeuer spot or blemish the Enemie endeauoureth to cast vpon it, by rea∣son it hath withdrawne itself from the pernicious traffick of this world, but higher and stronger then anie force he can make; in so much that it hath a kind of maistrie and command ouer his whole hoast and armie.

7. But that,* 1.184 which is most of al, and most behoueful for our soules, is, that this state doth naturally breed in our minde an extraordinarie light, making it very plaine vnto vs that whatsoeuer is vnder the cope of heauen, is of smal value,* 1.185 deceiptful, idle, and vnworthie of our loue. To which effect S. Chry∣sostom•• doth discourse eloquently in this manner:

As when we looke downe from the top of a hil, al things seeme little vnto vs, not only men and trees, but whole citties & armies, are like so many emmets vpon the ground: so they, that raysing their minde to heauenlie things are as it were seated on high, thinke al humane things, as power, glorie, wealth, and the like, so smal and so little to be regarded, that they iudge it an vnworthie thing, if the noblenes of their vncorruptible minde should stoope vnto them. What can be more glorious then such a state, which by leauing vs nothing, doth put vs into so great safetie, and make vs so impregnable, that we shal not need to feare neither force, cor fortune; neither man nor anie humane chance? Which the same blessed Saint doth attribute much to Pouertie: for taking vpon him to commend a single life, among other prayses therof, doth reckon this blessing, that it may be poore, and cutting of therby al care and danger, rayse itself the nearer to Heauen.* 1.186 For, sayth he▪ he that hath nothing, despiseth al things, as if he had al at command: and with great freedome, is bold to speake to Prince and Potentate, and to him that weareth the crowne. He that contemneth money, being a downe-right man, doth easily also contemne death itself; and being ahoue al, fearing nothing, dreading nothing, doth speake the more freely to al. But a man that is greedie of money, is not only a slaue to his money, but a slaue to the opinion and reputation of men, a slaue to his owne life, and, in one word,* 1.187 a slaue to al that belongeth to this life. S. Gregorie also, in the seauenth of his Morals doth beate vpon the same point; Let vs life vp the eyes of our mind (sayth he) and behold in what heighth the Elect are inwardly

seated, that are outwardly oppressed; al that which is eminent abroad, to their inward sight lyes flat, and is contemptible. For inwardly lifted aboue them∣selues, they place their soule on high, and whatsoeuer they suffer in this life, they behold it as it were passing vnder them, and little belonging to them; and while, as I may say, they striue in minde to be rid of their flesh, they are al∣most ignorant of what they endure in it. For, as seated in the top of a great high hil, they vtterly contemne the ioyes of this present life; and being higher then themselues by a spiritual highnes, they behold within, al that beneath them, which by carnal glorie is so high flowne without. From whence it cometh, that they spare no power opposing itself against vertue, but by the authoritie of their spirit keep downe whomsoeuer they espie lift themselues vp by pride.

Thus spake S. Gregorie, bringing also manie examples of this nature, out of holie Scrip∣ture, as of Moyses against Pharao; Nathan against Dauid; Helyas against Achab; Elizeus against Ioram. And the like spirit Religion doth put into those, that fol∣low it; and giueth them an vndaunted courage, not proceedring of pride, but from the noblenes of their hart, and the contemp•• of al earthlie things, euen to stand with Princes and Kings in behalf and defence of the glorie of God.

* 1.1888. It is recorded of S. Bernardin of Siena, that he was wery free to speake his mind; and when cause required, sticked not publickly to reprehend the vices of people of great qualitie, without respect of persons. In a sermon once he repre∣hended the Duke of Milan; whereupon the Duke being highly displeased, sent him word he should die if he left not off. S. Bernardin the next day spake farre more sharply against the same vice, in a great assemblie of people; which con∣fidence of his did so daunt the Duke, that he durst neuer after trouble him. But to try whether he could be corrupted, sent him a golden boule ful of gold; which though the Saint reiected with a great deale of indignation, the Duke commanded it should be againe presented him with a long complement, and much entreatie to admit of it. They, that carryed it, did so presse the Saint, that when he saw there was no end, rising vp, he bad them follow him, and going directly to the prison,* 1.189 he bestowed it vpon those that were in for debt, and set them al free the same day. We read, that S. Columbanus vsed the like freedome in reprehending The••dorick King of the French, for his wicked life. And once the King hearing, that he was come to towne, sent a princelie supper for him, to his lodging, with al things necessarie, and a great retinue to wayte vpon him. S. Co∣lumbanus seing it,* 1.190 reiected it with ang••ie countenance and speech, pronouncing that verse out of Scripture: The guists of the wicked, are not acceptable to the Highest. Adding moreouer, that it was an vnworthie thing to pollute the mouthes of God's seruants, with meate from him, that did so vniustly make warre against them. He had scarce vttered these words; when al the vessels, in which the meate was brought, brake in peeces, the wine and sider runne about the floare, and euerie thing was scattered hi••••er and thither. They that serued it, were much amazed; the King himself much afrighted ranne presently to the Saint, telling him: He was his seruant in whatsoeuer he would command. But not long after, he fel to his wonted courses, and the Saint spared not to check him, and threa∣ten him for it.* 1.191 But what shal we say to the courage of S. Anthonie of Padua? when Ezelinus wasted Italie with fire and sword, he went and spake thus vnto him: Thou cruel and bloudie Tyrant, when wilt thou make an end of spilling the bloud of

men? And following on his discourse in he same strayne, he ripped vp al his violent proceedings, his murthers, robberies and pillages, threatning him with vengeance from heauen▪ and the wrath of the Eternal God. His followers hea∣ring this kinde of language, looked for no other, but that their Maister, accor∣ding to his bloudie custome, should bid them rūne the man through, that made himself so bold a controuler. But it hapned farre otherwise; for taking his gyrdle, he put it about his owne neck in steed of a rope, of a wolf being become a lamb, and falling downe vpon his knees, he humbly begged pardon for his sinnes, and promised he would doe whatsoeuer satisfaction or punishment the Saint would impose vpon him. But after a while returning to his former vil∣lanies, he made an attempt vpon the vertue of the Saint, after the manner fol∣lowing: He sent some of his retinue to him, with very rich presents, comman∣ding them, that by earnest entreatie and importunitie, and al meanes possible, they should winne him, to accept of them: and if he did accept of them, they should presently cut of his head: if he could not be wonne vnto it, they should patiently stand to heare, whatsoeuer he would say vnto them. They went, and with al the courtesie and seeming humilitie of the world, they pressed him ouer and ouer againe, to admit of the present, their Lord and Maister had been plea∣sed to honour him with. But S. Antonie with great freedome spake thus vnto them:

Away instantly with your wicked guifts, least the house fal vpon you, or the earth open and swallow you vp, and we come in danger by your destru∣ction.

And so sent them away; which Ezelinus hearing did euer after honour the man, as a great Saint. So great is the opinion, which the contempt of earthlie things doth breed in the mindes euen of wicked men.

9. Now seing a Religious state doth thus arme vs against al aduersitie,* 1.192 let vs consider a little also, how it doth defend vs in prosperitie; that contemning both, we may neither feare the one, nor care for the other. Great S. Antonie shal be our president in this kinde;* 1.193 of whome we find it recorded, that whereas Constantine the Great, that famous Emperour, and his two sonnes Constance and Constantius, were wont often to write vnto him in most submissiue & courteous manner, as to their Father, he was so farre from glorying in it, that he was wont to say:

That no man must think it any great matter, if the Kings of the world doe at anie time, write to the seruants of God; for though they haue in outward appearance a greater power, their nature is the same; they liue and die, as others doe. The thing which is great indeed, and highly to be esteemed, is, that God hath sent letters vnto vs, that is, his Law, the fummarie of his wil, & hath spoken vnto vs by his onlie Sonne Which notwithstanding, his Brethren entreating him to make them some answer, that he might not seeme to slight the courtesie of so great Princes, he writ back vnto them, exhorting them to Iustice, and Clementie, and alwayes to remember they were Men, and should one day themselues appeare in iudgement before the Tribunal of CHRIST, who is true Lord of al.

This mind so noble and so high, seated aboue al earthlie things, contemning them al as dust, S. Antonie and the rest did not bring with them to Religion, but sucked it out of Religion; and we also being bred in the same schoole, may easily gaine the like; and the noblenes of our calling doth require it and, doubtles, instil it into vs.

How noble a thing it is in a Religious man, to forsake his natural kindred. CHAP. VII.

IT is a great matter to set al earthlie things at naught; and they that doe so, are not to be ranked any more with the vulgar sort, but to be honoured as people of high degree of promotion and excellencie: Yet it is a farre greater worke, to fortake our kindred and nearest allyes in bloud. For the loue, which we beare them, is of a higher strayne, farre more intense, more natural, and more deeply rooted in vs.* 1.194 For what likenes, or what connexion hath a man with gold, and siluer, with lands and possessions? But with men he hath a natural af∣finitie, and specially with such as come of the same stock: which is the rea∣son, that the loue of parents towards their children, of children towards their parents, and of brethren among themselues, is so hard to be dissembled. And that this proceedeth not so much out of iudgement and deliberation grounded in reason, as of a natural inclination and force, we see by that which hapneth in beasts, who, to preserue their yong-ones, stick not to venture life and limme. And consequently the stronger this bond and tye is, the greater force is requi∣red to breake it, and a hart more resolute, either to abide or to act this dis∣iunction. So that among the rest of the commendations of a Religious state, this is none of the least, that, as it rayseth a man aboue al other things, it ouer∣commeth also this natural affection, parting a man from those, with whome he was bred and borne; and bringing him, for the loue of our Sauiour, to enter league with others, whome he neuer saw; and to take more pleasure in liuing with them, then with his owne natural kindred: which is an euident argument, that this manner of calling is farre aboue the reach of Nature. For if we see a father of manie children oftimes lament and grieue so bitterly for the losse of some one among them, though the rest of his familie and stocke be sound and safe; what grief should theirs, if we speake of nature, be, who leese al at once, parents, brethren, sisters, friends, domesticals, and al that nature or custome and familiar acquaintance had linked them so long & so deeply vnto? It is not nature therfore, that worketh this strange effect, but it is abundant grace from Heauen, and plentie of vertue and infused from aboue.

* 1.1952. And so we find in the Ghospel, that our Sauiour doth challenge it as one of his greatest works. I came not, sayth he, to send peace, but the sword. For I came to seuer man against his father, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And it is not without great consideration, that he tearmeth this grace, a sword.* 1.196 For as a sword is made of iron, and vsed to cut a-sunder things which grow fast togeather; so it giueth vs to vnderstand, that this natural tye of affinitie is very strong, and cannot be seuered but by a force as strong as iron, that is, by the mightie hand of God, drawing to himself the harts of whome he wil, and parting them from whome he wil: and daylie expe∣rience doth teach vs it to be so. For how should it otherwise come to passe, that they, who before liued most dearly linked togeather in the same house, inspired

afterwards by this heauenlie Spirit, should so suddenly resolue not to yeald to flesh and bloud, but departe for euer from them, with that constant resolu∣tion, as if they had neuer knowne them, and did nothing belong vnto them? and (which is more signal) they that remaine, weepe for him that goeth; he that goeth away, is ful of ioy and gladnes. What is the reason of it, but because euen before he parte with them, he is already cut off and seuered from them by this diuine sword; and therfore parteth without anie sense of feeling: but they that haue not felt the force of this sword, are stil linked to him, & consequent∣ly feele much grief in parting. Theodoret recounteth of one Marcianus,* 1.197 a man of noble extraction, and indeed of the bloud Royal, that he betook himself into a Monasterie, that was seated farre out of the way. After manie yeares, his sister, who was Ladie of the Cittie where she dwelt, coming with her sonne (that was vnder age) and manie presents to the Monasterie, he would by no meanes see her; only he admitted the child, to the end he might send him home with some good instructions. And when she entreated him, that he would at least accept of the presents which she had brought, if not as he was her kins∣man, yet as one that was poore, and might haue need of them, he made her this answer: How manie monasteries of poore people did you meete by the way, before you came to me? And seing you bestowed not these presents vpon them, it is cleare you present them me for hindred sake. And so constantly he reiected them al. Which fact of his Theodoret doth so extol, that he sayth, he was a man aboue nature, fashioned after a heauenlie māner. Doubtlesse therfore this disposition of Re∣ligious people, is one of the specialest graces, which the Holie-ghost is wont to imparte vnto vs, and requireth great strength of minde; and is also a signe of much vertue and worth in them that haue it. In so much that it is one of the chief commands, which our Lord is pleased to lay vpon the Spouse, whom he chooseth for himself,* 1.198 & desireth should be without spot or wrinkle; Hearken, daughter, and see, and incline thy eare, and forget thy people, and the house of thy father. To be his Daughter, to be his Spouse, and worthie to be in the armes of God, this prime condition is first required, as a portion setled, that she doe not only forsake, but forget her carnal kindred: and if she doe so, what is further pro∣mised? And the king shal couet thy beautie. As who should say: By that fact of thine, thy beautie and comelines wil be so encreased, that the soueraigne King and Lord of the world, enflamed with thy loue, wil presently take thee for his Spouse, and place thee in Princelie dignitie.

3. We haue a memorable example hereof in that great Patriarch Abra∣ham, whose fact doth both much resemble,* 1.199 and greatly illustrate that, which al Religious people doe. Our Lord sayd vnto him:

Goe forth of thy land, and from thy kindred, and from the house of thy father, and come into the land, which I shal shew thee. It had been enough, as S. Ambrose discourseth,* 1.200 to haue sayd, forth of thy land, because in this one word, al the rest is contayned; but he would adde these particulars, that his affection might be the more tryed. Wherfore his faith is worthily renowned: and (as the same S. Ambrose sayth) by this his fact, he preuented the sayings of the Wise-men, whereof one is: Follow God. This al Religious people doe going out of the house of their fa∣ther, & forsaking their kinsfolk not only by leauing the affection to them, but corporally parting from them; and which is more then al the rest, they parte

not to goe to some certaine determinate place, but whithersoeuer God from thence-forward shal appoint them.

For they deliuer themselues ouer, to the wil and command of their Superiours, not in some one particular thing agreed vpon, as it were, by couenant and consent, but in whatsoeuer they shal be pleased to order, and, as God's Vice-gerents, shew vnto them.

* 1.2014. And if I may be bold to speake my minde, me thinks I see somewhat more in that which euerie Religious man doth, then in the fact of Abraham, for as much as concerneth this particular. For Abraham left indeed his coun∣trey, and part of his kindred: but yet carried with him al his wealth, which was very great, and his brother Loth, Sara his wife, al his seruants, and a ful house-hold; so that a man may in a manner rather say, that he carried the chief commodities of his countrey away with him, then that he left his countrey. But Religious people, how truly, how perfectly doe they forsake house, possessions, kindred; and naked, and solitarie betake themselues to the standart of Christ, who hung naked for them vpon th•• Crosse? Abraha•• vpon the performance of that commandment of God, was promised great matters:* 1.202 I wil blesse thee, and magnifie thy name, and thou shalt be blessed. I wil blesse them that blesse thee, and curse them that curse thee. Which being spoken and per∣formed to him, why should not we also hope to be partakers of the same promises and reward, seing in fact we iumpe with him? yea expect somewhat more. For these blessings in him were temporal, and consequently a farre lesse reward; but ours are spiritual without comparison greater and better. But yet from hence we may learne, how great the dignitie of a Religious voca∣tion is, in regard of the point we speake of, seing it equals so noble a fact of so diuine a man.

* 1.2035. For what power ouer al carnal affection had that famous Pastour▪ who, as we read in Vi••i•• Patrum, would not speake to the Prouost in behalf of his sister's sonne, that was in hazard to be put to death? or Pior, who being bid by S. Anthonie (whose disciple he was) to goe to his sister that was come to see him, went to her, but yet held his eyes shut, so that he did not see her. By whose example, Iohn also being commanded to present himself before his sister, shewed himself disguised as a stranger, and she not knowing him, he presently went his way. And as these two dealt with their sisters, so did Marcus with his mother; for he al besmothed his face with soot and smoak, and in a dirtie frock of sack-cloth stood before her, with his eyes shut, that he might haue no sight of her. Euagrius followed the same strayne: For when one brought him word that his father was dead, he told him: he lyed; for (sayth he) my father is immortal. S. Francis might haue sayd as much, who togeather with his father's inheritance renouncing also his father, made that worthie profession, that now he was more f••••e truly to say: Our father which art in heauen. And manie more like exam∣ples we might bring; as of S. Bernard and his Brethren, of Pachomius, and Theodore a disciple of his; whereof the first forsooke their sister, the latter two their mother, and refusing to admit them into their sight, were cause that they also at last abandoned the world.

6. But we shal not need to search ancient Records; we see daylie examples of the like vertue before our eyes. For how often, or rather,

as I sayd, how dayly haue we ourselues beheld, not only men growne in yeares, but verie youthes, entertaine their weeping parents, and their whole kindred, without shedding one teare, yea rather laughing when they lamented and grieued? Which comes not of hardnes of hart, or dul stu∣piditie, for if a stranger were in grief in miserie, they would soone bewaile his woes. But the Sword, I speake of, is to be seen in their harts, and hath diuided them from their friends and kindred, to whome be∣fore, their affection was so deep engaged; not that they haue left to loue them, seing they make profession to loue their verie enemies, but casting of al carnal affection, which oftimes puts vs vpon things vnworthie, they haue wholy changed it into spiritual charitie. Which noble disposition, as it is in itself most excellent, cannot choose also but be most grate∣ful to God, and plentifully rewarded with great graces. Moyses doth, to my thinking, liuely expresse it, when in his Prophetical testament, directing his speach to the Tribe of Leui dedicated to God, and for that reason resembling somewhat a Religious state, he pronounceth this bles∣sing ouer them:* 1.204 He that hath sayd to his father, and to his mother: I know you not; and to his brethren; I am ignorant of them, and haue not knowne their children. These haue kept thy speech, and obserued thy Couenant. Blesse, ô Lord, his strength, and receaue the workes of his hands. Strike the backs of his enemies, and let not them rise, that hate him.

That a Religious man hath also forsaken himself; and how noble a thing that is. CHAP. VIII.

NEXT to external goods, and natural kindred, which Religious people doe wholy forsake, there is a third and more excellent degree behind, and doubtlesse the highest that can be in matter of Perfection; to wit, that he leaues himself.* 1.205 This is to lift himself, not only aboue al other things,* 1.206 but aboue himsels. Which the Prophet Hieremie doth so highly commend. And of the rarenes, and difficultie, and worth therof, S. Gregorie doth say excellently wel: Perhaps it is no very hard matter for a man to leaue his possessions;* 1.207 but it is very hard to leaue himself: for it is a lesse matter to renounce what he hath; but it is very much to renounce what he is. And certainly it is very true. For if we finde so much difficultie in forsaking what we haue, louing it for ourselues; how much more difficultie must there needs be, in forsaking our∣selues? For as a natural and in-bred as the loue of a man's self is, so hard must it needs be, to cast away a man's self: And if we

consider wel, what the busines is, and it be done in earnest, it is not much lesse, yea it is a kind of death, because it is to dye to ones-self. And accordinly S. Gregorie doth expresse it in these tearmes:

To reneunce that which one it, To fal sowle with ones-self; To kil that which he is.

And heerupon a Reli∣gious man is accounted a dead man. Which Apollo, one of the ancient Fathers, declared by this notable fact of his, related by S. Bernard and others:* 1.208 One of his carnal brethren came once vnto him, crauing his assistance in some busi∣nes, which he had: the Saint asked him, why he did not rather goe to a third, brother of theirs; his brother wondering at this question, told him he was dead and buried long agoe. So was I, sayth Apollo, aboue twentie yeares since, when I to••ke this holie habit vpon me.

* 1.2092. S. Basil is of the same opinion; and disputing the question at large de∣liuereth, that no man entangled in the world, can attayne to this abnegation of himself, wherof our Sauiour sayth: If anie one wil come after me, let him deny himself; and giueth this reason:

Because to deny ones-self, is nothing els but wholy and vtterly to forget euerie thing belonging to his former life,* 1.210 and to depart from his owne wil▪ which in a secular life is most hard to compasse; not to say, that it is altogeather impossible.

3. And we may compare this high degree of Perfection, to which Reli∣gion doth rayse vs by the denyal of ourselues, an other way. For as when we giue a thing away to another man, we wholy forgoe it; so when we giue our∣selues to God; this being the nature, or, as I may cal it, the essence of Reli∣gion (as I haue shewed at large els-where) to put vs wholy ouer to God by force of Vow, and giue him ful dominion ouer vs. For first it deliuereth our bodie vnto him, both by the vow of Chastitie, and, as al other things, by the vow of Obedience, so that it is no more ours that liue in it, but his, for whome we liue in it. Vpon which ground S. Bernard doth solidly build this docu∣ment, that Religious people must deale with their bodies,* 1.211 as with a thing, that belongeth not to themselues, but to God. Secondly, it deliuereth our soule vnto him, that is, our Wil, our Iudgement▪ our Freedome, which is Al in al. For our soule is, as it were, the Castle in a Cittie; the key of this Castle is our libertie; so that when we deliuer our libertie vp to God, we deliuer al vnto him; and so long as it is in his hands, he is maister of al. Finally it deliuereth vp to God, the vse of al these things; which though it necessarily follow of the former, yet to make the thing more plaine, we speake of it a part. For we cannot employ our soule nor our bodie in things, which of ourselues we are inclined vnto, but in those, to which our Superiours are pleased to order vs. And this deliuerie is not a thing priuate or hidden, acted only in thought or resolution, but it is made externally, by an outward declara∣tion, by word of mouth, before witnesses, and in the hands of an other man, that, in place of God, accepteth the donation; in brief it is a kinde of contract, to the solemnizing and authenticating whereof, nothing is wan∣ting. And consequently a Religious man, that by solemne promise hath once dea••sed the dominion of himself, hath so wholy giuen ouer himself, that if afterwards he goe about to resume anie thing of himself, he offendeth as much as a man,* 1.212 that taketh from an other that, which himself had neuer anie ••ig••t vnto. Whereupon S. Bas••l sayth, that Whatsoeuer stealeth himself from God,

hauing once consecrated himself vnto him, committeth sacriledge.* 1.213 And S. Bernard re∣prehendeth some of his Moncks vpon the same grounds▪ in these words: You, that haue once entrusted vs with the care ouer you, Why do you meddle againe with yourselues? As if he should say: what power haue you now ouer yourselues, since you haue once giuen ouer your right? Which if it be true, as S. Bernard wil haue it, can there be a more perfect manner of renouncing ones-self then that, which is practised in Religion? Againe; how excellent a thing must Religion needs be, and how high in the fauour of God, seing it is so liberal towards him?

4. Among men, slauerie and captiuitie is accounted one of the hardest and heauiest things that are, because it taketh away a man's freedome, and maketh him so subiect to an other, that he must doe al things after an other's fancie. Yet if we looke into the matter wel, that kind of ser∣uitude bindeth the bodie only; the minde is altogeather free: for there is no slaue but he may think his pleasure, and loue and hate what he listeth, grieue and reioyce at what he wil. But a Religious man, offering his verie soule to God, offereth also the operations of the soule; and must conforme al his inward affections to the same rule: wherupon in al Re∣ligious Orders, the lawes and constitutions, which are set downe in wri∣ting, and the commands of Superiours by word of mouth, prescribe not only what is outwardly to be done or auoyded, but much more what is inwardly to be performed. So that no seruitude euer was or can be more strict then that, which Religious people vndergoe: But the more strict it is, it proues also the more pleasant; because of the infinit pleasure which is in God, who communicateth himself so much the more plentifully to his creatures, the more narrowly they binde them∣selues, and the more sincerely they are subiect, vnto him. Wherefore, among other great treasures of a Religious life, we must also reckon this, that it bringeth vs wholy to forsake and cast off ourselues for euer, by so strict an obligation,* 1.214 that it can neuer be called-in or made voyde. In com∣mendation of which thing the Glosse (the authoritie whereof is very great in the exposition of holie Scripture) doth worthily speake these words:

Others vow calues, others rammes, others their houses; the Nazarean voweth himself; this is the vow of the Nazarean, which is aboue al other vowes. Our sonne, and our daughter, and our cattle be without vs: but to offer ourselues, to employ not an other's but our owne labour, is more perfect and more eminent then al other vowes.

That al Vertues concurre in a Religious State. CHAP. IX.

* 1.215THE onlie wealth of a Christian, is Vertue. He that hath little vertue, is poore; he that hath much vertue, is to be accoun∣ted truly rich; and the more vertue a man hath, the richer he is. How much is therefore Religion to be esteemed, where a man shal finde, not one or two vertues only, but absolutly al, in great abundance concurring togeather? insomuch that the verie nature of Religion is, as it were, a Compound of Vertue; and if we looke into it, we shal finde it to be so; because if anie one vertue be wanting▪ the whole State of Religion is the weaker by it.

* 1.2162. I speake not now of those vertues, which euerie one doth get by his owne long practice in them, and daylie endeauour, which notwithstan∣ding this State doth so greatly facilitate, that it is deseruedly called the Schoole of Vertue, as I haue shewed before: But I speake of those, that in the verie first conception, as I may cal it, of a Religious Vocation, are infused into our soules togeather with the vocation itself, and so inwardly linked to the State of Religion, that whosoeuer admitteth of the State, must necessarily also receaue those vertues with it. Let vs therefore search-out what vertues, and how manie, this State requireth, as necessarily be∣longing vnto it; for as manie as are necessarie, certainly it bringeth with it.

3. And as a house, that is buylt of manie parts, hath some of them, that lye open to the view of euerie bodie, as the fore-front, the win∣dowes, the porches, and the like; and some againe that are hidden, at the timber, and ioyces, and iron-worke, and chiefly the foundation: And in the bodie of euerie liuing creature compounded of manie members, some appeare outwardly, as the head, the legs, and thighs, and such like; some lye inward, as the hart, the brayne, the bones, & sinnewes, which also are more necessarie, then manie of the outward parts: So in Religion, the three Vowes of Pouer∣tie, Chastitie, and Obedience lye open to the view of euerie bodie; others are more secret▪ yet withal so necessarie, euen for the due maintenance of those three Vowes, and of the State itself, that without them, al falles to the ground.

* 1.2174. And yet if there were nothing in Religion but the practice of the three Vowes, we could not imagin a thing more beautiful. For what is Pouertie, but so noble a disposition of minde, that it maketh no more account of heapes of gold and siluer, and of the reuennues and kingdoms of the world, then of a little chasse? yea it doth not only neglect them, as things of no value, but doth auoyd them, as burdensome. A great Vertue; and a gr••at guift of God.* 1.218 And if we cast our eye vpon so manie other men in this world, that do so highly esteeme and admire, and so earnestly hunt after

these earthlie things, we cannot choose but see the greatnes of it.

5. What is Chastitie?* 1.219 A mind strengthened and hardened against al manner of pleasures of the flesh; against those pleasures which do so domi∣neere ouer the nature of man-kinde. How rare therefore and how glorious a thing is it, to oppose ones-self against them, and withstand them so con∣stantly, and with so great a courage? The verie rarenes of this vertue doth make it the more glorious; for we see that the greatest part of al the world is lead away captiue with desire of these pleasures.

6. Finally, what a noble disposition of mind is Obedience?* 1.220 importing a denial of ourselues, and a renouncing of our freedome, which naturally we desire so much in al things, & in al the passages of our life; so that certainly, as we cannot ouercome ourselues in a greater matter, so there cannot be a more noble, or more glorious victorie. And consequently, as I sayd before, if there were no other vertue in Religion but these three, which are in euerie bodie's eye, the beautiful aspect therof could not but breed great admiration and loue in the beholders.

7. But, as I touched euen now, so fayre a building of Vertue could not long stand, if it had not other vertues to vphold it, whereof some goe before, as preparatiues; some alwayes accompanie it. And to begin with the three Theological vertues (which are so called because their obiect is God) it is euident, not only that a Religious state cannot be without Faith, but it cannot be without singular and very excellent Faith.* 1.221 For euerie Religious man doth forsake that, which he hath in his hands and before his eyes, for things which he doth not see; he leaueth the present for the future, and, which is more, for that which is not to come but after so long a distance of time, relying vpon the sole promise and word of God; which no man would doe, were he not fully perswaded, that the future is much more assured, then that which is present, which is the greatest act of Faith that a man can haue.

8. The like we may say of Hope,* 1.222 which consisteth in two points: First and principally in hoping the glorie of Heauen; which, though it be stil to come, Religion doth giue vs so good pledges of, as if we were ac∣tually in possession of it; and in regard therof, as I sayd of Faith, we forgoe whatsoeuer we had in our hands; Secondly Hope extendeth itself to the necessarie helps of this present life; which part therof, where is it more practised then in Religion? Religious people depriuing themselues of al things, which they may haue need of, and bringing themselues to a most perfect nakednes, vpon the confidence which they haue in God. So that in my opinion there cannot be a greater hope and confidence in the Pil∣grimage of this world, then this, which Religious people haue; because it extendeth itself not only to some one kind of thing, or to manie things of smal consequence, but concerneth absolutly al, and our ve∣rie life, with which we put God wholy in trust. Charitie is written in the verie bowels of Religion,* 1.223 and as it were in the Essence of it, and hath three branches: The one extending itself towards God; the other towards those of the same Institute; the third towards al other men. Towards God, because doubtlesse it is the sole Loue of God, which driueth a Soule vpon such a strict course of life,

and the force or flame therof must needs be excessiue great, to be able to thrust out so absolutly, as it doth, al other loue of our carnal brethren, our parents and kinsfolk, of riches, and al other worldlie commodities, and finally the loue of ourselues. For it were not possible for a man to for∣sake al these things for God, if he loued not God much more then anie of them. And if the beginnings of this loue be so great, and the first coulours, as I may cal them, so liuelie and beautiful; what wil be the con∣tinual encrease therof, to which it must needs rise in time, by the daylie fun∣ctions of Religion, by prayer, meditation, and other vertuous exercises; the end of them al being to encrease in the loue of God.

9. Now whereas the streames of loue and good wil towards our neigh∣bour are deriued from this fountaine of the loue of God, they fal first vpon them,* 1.224 whome God hath linked vnto vs by profession of the same Institute and course of life; who also, by reason of this nearnes, haue been alwayes wont to cal Brothers among themselues. And this loue is wholy of Cha∣ritie. For, as Aristotle discourseth, euerie societie of men, being necessarily grounded vpon communication, in one kind or other, as the companie of sea-faring men, vpon shipping; a companie of souldiers, vpon militarie ac∣tions; a fellowship of Students, vpon the doctrine of their Maister; a companie of Marchants,* 1.225 vpon money; such as the thing is, wherupon they agree, such is their followship or societie: Let vs therfore see, what is the ground, where∣upon Religious people agree, and what bond tyeth them togeather. For cer∣tainly it is not nearnes in bloud; because oftimes they are meere strangers one to another; neither is it anie ciuil contract or bargaine; in brief, if we reckon vp al, that can be reckoned, we shal find that they haue no other ground of their association, but this supernatural loue, which is Charitie. Charitie bread it; Charitie vpholds it; without Charitie it instantly faileth. And, as a little before I said of the loue of God, so this fraternal Charitie hauing so noble a ground, and, as I may cal it, so honourable a descent, it hath manie things in like manner consequent vnto it, and greatly aduancing it. And first, the likenes, which they haue among themselues; which in al things is a great encreaser of loue, and among Religious people of the same Rule and Institute is so great, that greater can hardly be in this world; for al their intentions, practises, rites, and ceremonies, & their verie outward Habit and behauiour are alike; Vertue itself, which a man cannot but loue in his enemie, their daylie conuersation one: with another, continual cohabitation, finally the seruices and charitable offi∣ces one towards another, al proceeding of loue, must needs adde oyle to this burning flame of loue, and inflame it more and more.

10. The third branch of Charitie reacheth to al men. For excepting some few Institutes, which attend wholy to Contemplation (who yet by prayer and good desires help towards the saluation of others in no smal measure) al the rest are so wholy at the seruice of their neighbour, that al their thoughts and endeauours seeme to bend that way. And the employments of euery Religious familie giue sufficient testimonie, what their affection is in this kind. For not only when they appeare in publick to preach, or teach, or exhort, but when in priuate they giue themselues to studie, when they labour and watch, or performe anie other exercise of religion, al of it is

directed not only to their owne saluation, but for the better helping & assisting of others to get Heauen. So that Religious people, as S. Paul sayd of himself, haue made themselues seruants of al men,* 1.226 taking their cause so to hart, that next to their owne saluation, they busie themselues wholy vpon their neighbour, either actually seruing them in some thing or other, or preparing that which may conduce to their good: finally as oft as they are called, they are as readie to attend vpon them, as any seruant can be at his maister's beck. Al which shewes, that Charitie is intrinsecal to a Religious vocation, and, as it were, a kind of glue, to binde soules togeather among themselues, and with God; which if it faile, Religious Orders themselues must needs fal asunder, because they haue no other stay or hold.

11. It followeth that we speake of Moral vertues; among which the first &, as it were, the light of the rest, is Prudence,* 1.227 so coupled with Religion, that without it we cannot vnderstand, what Religion meaneth. S. Augustin defineth Prudence to be the knowledge of what we are to desire,* 1.228 and what we are to fly. And where is this knowledge more abundant, then in Religion? S. Thomas deliuereth a doctrine which is very true,* 1.229 to wit, that Prudence consisteth not only in the Vnder∣standing or Reason, but dependeth very much of a wel-ordered wil, and con∣sequently is obscured and lost rather by disordered affections, then by forget∣fuln••s or obliuion. Whereupon it followeth also further (as the same holie Doctour teache••h) that a sinner cannot haue perfect Prudence: for perfect Prudence is that, which considering the true End of man, doth apply to the attaining ••f that End, vpright aduise, vpright iudgement, and an vpright command; which be the three acts of this vertue. Now where is the true End of man better considered of, and better weighed, then in Religion, where we direct our∣selues wholy to God, for whome we were created; and put ourselues so intire∣ly vnder his dominion and power, that we doe nothing for anie creature, not so much as for ourselues? Religion moreouer sheweth vs, how to deserue the grace of God, how to preserue it, and preuent and auoyd the deceits of the Diuel, what we ought to doe or shunne in al the particulars of our life. These are the acts of true wisedome; this is the Prudence, which is both commen∣dable, and necessarie; not as commonly people take it, to know how to grow rich, or to get preferment, w••ich is rather craft▪ then Prudence. For failing of the knowledge or pursuit of the true end of man, and seeking some particular end of this or that busines▪ or ayming of some thing which is naught, it fol∣loweth either to be imperfect, if it stay in the first; or falsly stiled Prudence, if it degenerate to the latter.

12. Iustice is yet more apparently coupled with Religion: For it is not only farre from doing anie bodie anie wrong (for though there were nothing els,* 1.230 the state itself barreth al Religious people from al occasions of fraud & deceipt) but the office of Iustice being to giue euerie one his owne, and chiefly to God, that which belongs vnto him, Religion beats wholy vpon this point. Al things, that be in the world, belong to God; ourselues, and al that we haue. Who∣soeuer therfore reserueth anie thing to himself, either of his owne person or anie thing belonging vnto him, wrongs God, and certainly deales more vn∣iustly with him, then if he should take another man's goods from him: Now Religion laboureth nothing more then to deliuer vp to God, first al things

which are without vs; secondly, the things which are within vs; and lastly our selues; by this meanes compendiously complying with al the dutyes of most perfect Iustice.

* 1.23113. As for Temperance, who can doubt but that Religion is the proper seat of it? For, as Aristotle deliuereth, the office of Temperance is, to bridle the pleasures of the bodie,* 1.232 chiefly those that belong to the sense of Touching; of which there be two kindes: some serue towards the sustenance of the bodie, by eating and drinking; some for the vse of generation. The first, Religion confineth within the bounds of necessitie, Pouertie (the mother of frugalitie, and sobrietie) helping therunto: The second belonging to ge∣neration (the desires whereof are more violent and intemperate) it doth wholy cut of and shunne, as a bodie would shunne the plague. The greatest commendation, which Aristotle and the rest of the Philosophers gaue Tempe∣rance, was to keepe a meane in these pleasures, and durst not presse Nature anie further. How farre greater commendation therefore doth Religion de∣serue, which doth not only temper these pleasures, but vtterly abolish them, and banish them out of sight and thought?

* 1.23314. Some bodie perhaps wil think, that Fortitude hath nothing to doe in Religion, because there is no occasion of going into the field, nor anie vse of weapons, nor anie thing to be done that requireth strength of armes: which fancie if we yeald vnto, we may as wel grant that a Bul, or an Elephant, is to haue the preheminence of strength and fortitude aboue al men. But the nature of Fortitude is farre other; and, if we belieue S. Gregorie, it is to be measured by the disposition of our mind.* 1.234

The Fortitude, sayth ••e, or strength of the iust, is to subdue their flesh, to contradict their owne wil, to quench the delights of this present life, to embrace that which is hard in the world, for the rewards eternal, to contemne the smiling countenance of prosperitie, to ouercome in their harts the feare of aduersitie.

Which words of S. Gregorie, what doe they decypher vnto vs, but the dutie of a Religious life? so that we must of force confesse, that true Fortitude is chiefly among them. For if we account them valiant, that fight stoutly against other men; we haue much more reason, to yeald this commendation to Religious people, who in the continual warre, which they wage against this world, ouercome enemies farre more strong in nature then they, and farre more in number.

15. Besides these Moral vertues, which are the principal, there be others as it were branches of them;* 1.235 as Patience, a vertue so noble and withal so neces∣sarie, that Religion meeting with so manie things as it doth, which are very harsh to Sense, it cannot long endure without it. It must therefore necessarily haue Patience; and the daylie occasions of practice of it, do much strengthen and encrease it.* 1.236 To which purpose S. Ambrose speaking in commendation of S. Eusebius Bishop of Vercels, hath these words:

This Patience did first fasten in S. Eusebius by Monastical conuersation, and he grew able to endure anie kind of labour and paynes, by custome of more strict obseruance.

* 1.23716. But euerie bodie wil perhaps easily find out, that Religion must haue Patience; but make a question, whether there be anie place for Liberalitie; ••e∣cause Religious people reserue nothing that they can bestow vpon others;* 1.238 and yet truly considered, Religion is not without this happines. For, as Aristotle sayth, Liberalitie, as other vertues, is to be measured by the disposition of a

man's minde: Whosoeuer is so disposed in minde, that he contemnes al worldlie wealth, and is readie, if he had it, to bestow it in laudable vses, is to be accoun∣ted truly liberal; so that, according to the opinion of the same Philosopher, poore men may also be liberal; and consequently Religious people are so farre from wanting this vertue, as they are rather to be esteemed more liberal, then anie bodie els. For who can more from their hart contemne riches then they, that not only doe not seeke after them or desire them, but are readie to refuse whole mountaines of gold, if they were offered? Besides that, they haue already acted al that magnificence and worth, which can be in bestowing the goods of this world, when they forsooke al, togeather with the world; specially if it fel in their way to doe also that, which S. Basil aduiseth,* 1.239 and S. Francis put in practise, and (which is the principal) that which our Sauiour commanded, to wit, if they distributed that, which they had, wholy in releef of the poore. For they that lauish their substance in following their pleasures,* 1.240 or spend it in statelie buildings, or burie it in orchards and gardins, are not,* 1.241 euen in Aristotle's iudgement, to be accounted liberal. Religion therefore wanteth no part in Li∣beralitie, but hath it to the ful, as a special ornament among other graces.

17. But neither these,* 1.242 nor anie other vertue doth seeme so natural to Re∣ligion, as Humilitie For first, what is Religion but an absolute renun∣ciation of al wordlie honour? which renunciation is an act of Humilitie. Se∣condly, the whole practise of Religion consisteth in humbling ourselues as much as possibly we can, and in endeauouring to hide ourselues from being spoken or thought of, and to be rather subiect to euery bodie, then to goe be••ore any one; finally nothing is more ordinarie, nothing more lab••ured for in Religion, then to be the least and lowest of al men. And consequently the commandment of our Sauiour (Sit downe in the lowest place) is no-where more exactly fulfilled.* 1.243 The lowest place is, to lay ourselues vnder euerie one's ••eete, to depriue ourselues of our owne wil, and of al power of doing anie thing of our∣selues; for no man can descend lower, then he that hath left himself nothing. We sit downe, that is, we take vp our rest, in this lowest place; because the Humi∣litie of Religion, is not one act or two, such as some Secular people stoop-vnto some-times, but it comprehendeth our whole life, & is intrinsecally setled in the State itself, which we are bound to stick to, al the dayes therof. And besides this humilitie, which the state itself doth bring with it, the daylie practise of humble offices is so annexed therunto, that we see people, that are nobly borne, and brought vp, not only honourably, but deliciously, & attended-on before, with much state,* 1.244 performe howerly & continually, the seruil offices, which S. Hie∣rome so much commēdeth in Paula & Euslochi••m,

two noble Ladies, to wit, to set vp lights, make fires, sweep the house, shel beanes and pease, put hearbs into the pot when it boyleth, couer the table, serue beere, dresse-out the meate, runne hither and thither: which are al acts of Humilitie, and partly shew vs what Humilitie the State doth breede in vs, partly encrease it dayly more and more.

18. And this shal suffice, for as much as concerneth Vertue. The like may be sayd of the guifts of the Holie-Ghost.* 1.245 For where is more perfect Wisdome t••en in Religion, where that light doth shine, which teacheth vs to value euerie thing according to the true worth of it? that is, to make great account of Diuine and heauenlie things, and to set lightly by earthlie things: wherupon

S. Augustin hath this saying:* 1.246 The Prophet sayth: The beginning of wisedome is the ••c••re of our Lord. And what is the beginning of wisedome, but to renounce the world?* 1.247 because to be worldly wise, is foolishnes. Where is that Vnderstanding more quick, which diuing into the deapth of euerie thing, discouereth clearly from whence they haue their beginning, by whome they were created, what beauty is in them, what benefit they bring vnto vs, and how the Authour of them is made knowne by them?

* 1.24819. Knowledge (as the tree in the midst of Paradise, by which we might haue discerned good from euil) flourisheth also in this place; neither are we heer for∣bidden to touch it,* 1.249 as then we were, but rather we are bid to make vse of it. The same we may say of Counsel, and Forttitude; wherof the one armeth a soule against the vice of head-long rashnes, that it may neyther erre nor fal; the other strengthneth it against aduersitie, that it may reioyce and triumph in the midst of it.

* 1.25020. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 softneth the hardnes of our hart, and melts it with loue, of God and our Neighbour, and the feare of God shutteth vp the ranke, that no man may confide in himself,* 1.251 or in his owne strength, but as the Wise-man admo∣nisheth, be 〈…〉〈…〉: which holesome feare is proper and intrintsecal to Religion.* 1.252 For the onlie cause (at least a chief motiue) why people vnder∣take this profitable flight, from the pleasures of the world, to the sweet yoake of Christ, is, because perceauing the dangers of the world, and the malice of the Diuel, and their owne weaknes, to be so great, they can think of no better refuge, then to shelter themselues in Religion (as little chickens, when the kite houers ouer them) vnder the wings of our Lord, and there to remaine, ••d iniquitie passe away, and the miserie of this life, the whole length wherof is deseruedly called by holie Iob, a warrefare vpon earth.

* 1.25321. Wherefore to draw to a conclusion of this point, seing there is such plentie of rare vertues in a Religious course, what can we liken it vnto better, then to a Crowne or diademe of gold set with pearle and pretious stones of al fortes? So that vpon whomesoeuer the Crowne is bestowed, al the gemmes and pretious stones must necessarily be bestowed vpon him; because they are set fast in it; for in like manner, whomesoeuer God doth inspire to take a Re∣ligious course, at the self-same time, and by the self-same act, he conferreth vpon him al the blessings and guifts, which I haue rehearsed, and that great heape of heauenlie wealth and treasure is, at it were, at the self-same instant put into his bosome. And as, when a man is borne into this world, al things, which are necessary to the constitution of a man, are consequently bestowed vpon him, to wit, the bodie of a man and the members therof, and the soule of a man with the properties belonging vnto it; because otherwise he should not be a man: though this bodie is at first little, and the self-same in time and by the continual nourishment, which we take, growes bigger and bigger; and our soule, which is at first in a man not vnpolished, must be perfected by 〈…〉〈…〉 & industrie: So when God, who commandeth light to shine in darknes, doth ••••li••hten a ma••'s hart, and drawing him out of the power of death, makes him wor∣〈…〉〈…〉 the Saints on light, he doth necessarily also giue him al the vertues, which are necessarily required for the accomplishing of this course,* 1.254 as Pouer∣tie, Faith, Humilitie, Obedience, and the rest, which I haue already men∣tioned;

some expresly and directly, others at least inuoluedly, giuing him a desire and affection to others some, with a ful deliberation, and purpose to purchase them: though al these vertues are afterwards to be conserued, en∣creased, and put into a better forwardnes, by the grace of God and man's owne endeauour concurring togeather. Which doth euidently discouer the great∣nes of this heauenlie benefit. For if al these vertues were to be purchased by our owne labour and industrie, to what an exigent should we be brought? How much toyle and sweat of our browes would euerie one of them cost vs, they being so manie in number, and so hard to compasse? But now being al included in a Religious state of life, God, that giues the state, giues the ver∣tues also; and whosoeuer takes the State vpon him, must necessarily receaue them togeather with it.

How great the perfection of a Religious State is. CHAP. X.

SVPPOSING this great concourse of Vertues, whereof a Re∣ligious state is compacted, as a bodie of manie members, (as I haue shewed) it wil not be hard to coniecture, or rather it is apparent of itself, how great the perfection of this manner of life is. For Vertue being the onlie perfection of a nature, that is en∣dued with reason, the institute or course of life, wherein al vertues concurre in so eminent a degree, must needs be most perfect, most honourable, and most glorious, for a reasonable man to liue in. And this is that, which at this pre∣sent we wil take into our consideration; chiefly recording the sentences of ho∣lie Fathers concerning this point, least following our owne discours, we may be thought to flatter ourselues, and praise our owne trade.

2. S. Dionyse (one of the ancient Writers in the Catholick Church,* 1.255 and of greatest authoritie, next to the holie Scriptures) called the degree and Or∣der of a Bishop, a Perfecting degree, because it is ordayned for the perfecting of others; and the state of Monks (whereof he deliuereth manie great com∣mendations) he calleth a state of such as are perfect.* 1.256 Which our Diuines de∣claring in other tearmes, say, that the State of Monks aymeth at their owne perfection, the State of a Bishop at the perfecting of others. S. Basil in his Ser∣mons of the Institution of a Monke, hath this discours:

He that re∣nounced the world, must make account, and alwayes beare in minde, that he hath stepped a degree beyond the bounds of humane nature, and betaken himself to an Institute farre different from the course of the bodie, and consequently vndertaken to imitate the conuersation of Angels: For it is proper to the nature of Angels to be free from earthlie tyes, and hauing their eyes continually fixed vpon the face of GOD, not to be drawne to contemplate anie other beautie;

This is S. Basil's iudgement of this course of life,* 1.257 which els-where he calleth a Sublime and excellent manner of liuing.

* 1.2583. S. H••erome in his Epistle to Hedibia speaketh thus: Wilt thou be perfect, and stand in the highest rank of promotion?

Doe that, which the Apostles did; Sel what thou hast, and giue it to the poore, and follow thy Sauiour; attend vpon the sole naked Crosse with sincere vertue. And in another of his Epistles to Demetrius:* 1.259 It is the heighth of an Aposto∣lical life and perfect Vertue, to sel al and deale it among the poore; and thus lightned and disburdened, to fly vp to heauen with Christ; though in this, euerie age and euerie person is left to his free wil and choice. He saith:* 1.260 If thou wilt be perfect; I doe not force you, I doe not command you; I propose the prize, I shew the rewards; it is yours to choose, whether you wil be crowned in the lists and combat. And yet more plainly and copiously writing to Iulianus: This I exhort thee vnto, if thou wilt be perfect; if thou ayme at the heighth of Apostolical dig∣nitie; if taking thy Crosse thou wilt follow Christ; if laying hand on the plough, thou looke not back; if placed in a high place at the feast, thou contemne thy old cloathes; and let goe the cloake of this world, to escape the Aegyptian Ladie. For Elias making haste to the heauenlie king∣domes, cannot go vp with his cloake, but letteth his vncleane gar∣ment fal to the world, that is vncleane. Thou wilt say: This is for men of Apostolical dignitie, and such as wil be perfect. Thou that art first in the world, why shoudst not thou be first in the house-hold of Christ? And a little after: If thou giue thy self to God, and perfect in Apostolical vertue begin to follow our Sauiour, then thou wilt perceaue, where thou wert, and how in the armie of Christ thou holdest the lowest place.

S. Hierome stileth the place, in which Iulianus then was when he wrote this Epistle to him, the lowest place, because he was stil in the world, a man not euil and vitious, but a good man, and among secular people, rare for his vertue and pietie, leading a single life, and being one, who (as S. Hierome writeth of him) mayntay∣ned whole companies of Monks, vpon the large possessions, which God had giuen him: And yet he doth not doubt to rank this man, that was so rich in good works,* 1.261 with the last in the armie of Christ.

4. S. Augustin speaketh to the same effect in manie places, but chiefly in the Booke, which he wrote of holie Virginitie, where he sayth thus: When the professours of perpetual Continencie, comparing themselues with married people, shal find, that (according to holie Scripture) they that mar∣tie are farre inferiour to themselues, both in the labour and in the hire belon∣ging to it; in their desire, and in the reward; let them instantly cal to mind that,* 1.262 which is written: The greater thou art, humble thyself the more in al things.

* 1.2635. There is also an excellent Epistle of his extant, where he enlargeth himself very much in commendation of this kind of life; and among other things he sayth, that to leaue al, is a noble resolution; a more excellent perfection, then the only keeping the Commandments of God; finally that they, who entertayne this Counsel of Perfection, to sel al, and distribute it among the poore, to the end that easing their shoulders of the burthen of this world, they may be the freer to take vp the sweet yoake of our

Sauiour Christ vpon them, doe it out of a kind of generositie of a noble Spirit; and they that arriue not to this perfection, are the more infirme, and not thought fit for so glorious an enterprise; though, if they keepe the Commandments, and vse their wealth as if they had it not, they may be saued.

6. S. Gregorie particularly vpon those words of holie Iob:* 1.264 I haue despayred, now I wil no longer liue, hath this excellent saying:

There be some iust men, that ayme at heauenlie things; yet so, as not to breake with the hopes, which they haue in their earthlie substance; they reserue the inheritance, which God hath giuen them, to supply their necessities; they retayne the temporal honours and preferments which doe befal them; they couet not that which belongs to others; they vse their owne within compasse of Iustice and equitie. There be other iust men, that buckling themselues to the attaining of the heighth of Perfection, while they inwardly ayme at the highest, forsake al things which are without; they bereaue themselues of the things they did possesse; they depriue themselues of the glorie of worldlie preferments; they refuse the comfort of al outward things; and the nearer they approach in their mind to the inward ioyes, the more ab∣solutly doe they kil within themselues the life of corporal delight.

For to them S. Paul addresseth his words when he sayth:* 1.265 You are dead, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. And Truth itself in his owne words admonisheth vs, saying:* 1.266 If any wil come after me, let him deny himself. And againe: Vnlesse a man renounce al that he doth possesse, he cannot be my disciple.

7. Origen (an Authour much esteemed for his learning and antiqui∣tie) speaketh thus:* 1.267

If a man haue vowed himself to God; if he entangle not himself in secular businesses, to the end to please him to whom he hath engaged himself; if he be seuered and parted from the rest that liue carnally, and are tyed to worldlie affayres; not seeking the things which are vpon earth but those which are in heauen; such a man is deseruedly called ho∣lie. For while a man remayneth in worldlie companie, rolling vp and downe in the multitude of vnquiet people, not attending to God a∣lone, nor seuered from the vulgar;* 1.268 he cannot be holie. Thou ther∣f••re that hearest these things when the law of God is read, to whome the Word of God himself doth speake, saying: Be holie, because I, your Lord God, am holie: vnderstand with discretion what is sayd, that thou mayst be blessed, when thou hast performed it. This is that which is sayd vnto thee: Departe not only from euerie other man, but euen from thy brother, that walketh vnquietly; seuer thyself from earthlie dealings, from the concupiscence of the world; vow thyself to God, as the first-fallen calf; be holie and layd-aside for the vse of the Priests only, giuen ouer to their vse, as the first-begotten of euerie liuing creature; seuer & set thyself apart, as a holie viol-glasse, as holie censers to be vsed only in the Temple; and attending to the seruice of God, be holie and seuered within the temple of God, as the holie Vestments of the high Priest.

Finally the verdict of S. Bernard must not be forgotten,* 1.269 when speaking in commenda∣tion of a Religious State, he giues it a singular preheminence of a Spiritual

life (for so he speaketh) excelling al other kinds of humane conuersa∣tion; and making the professours and louers of it like Angels, and farre vnlike to men; and reformeth in man the image of God, conforming vs to Christ.

8. Moreouer we may vnderstand the perfection of a Religious vocation▪ by that the ancient Fathers doe vsually stile it,* 1.270 an Apostolical life and calling; which is to place it in the very top of al Sanctitie. For no man can doubt, but that the Apostles did excel in al Euangelical perfection, as being Christ's owne disciples, and Maisters of the whole world, and, as S. Paul speaketh,* 1.271 had the first fruits of Spirit, so abundantly, as the day of Pentecost doth witnes.* 1.272 Wherupon S. Bernard in a certain Sermon speaketh thus to his Brethren:

What is it thanks be to him, by whose grace al this is donne) what is it, that your life doth resemble the life of the Apostles? they forsook al; and assembled togeather in the Schoole of Christ, in his presence, drew waters in ioy of the fountaine of our Sauiour, drinking of the fountaine of life at the fountaine itself. Blessed are their eyes that beheld it. Haue not you also done somewhat the like, not in his presence, but in his absence; not at the word of his mouth, but vpon the word of his messengers? Maintayne this your prerogatiue, which they vpon sight and word of mouth, you by hearing and by message, haue belieued.

Behold, how he compareth a Religious State with that worthie act of the Apostles, and in a manner doth preferre it before them, in regard that,* 1.273 as our Sauiour sayd, they are more blessed, that haue not seene, and haue beleeued.

* 1.2749. In an other place he doth yet more fully and more playnly compare this kind of life, not only with the Apostles, but with the Prophets, and the verie Angels. These are his words: You see, my Bretheren, what spirit you haue receaued; the spirit, which is of God, that you may know the things which God hath giuen you. We haue heard the degree of excel∣lencie, wherein the Apostles, and the Prophets, and the Angels are seated, and I make account we cannot ayme at anie higher thing. Ve∣rily me thinks, I find something of each of them in you, and something that is excellent.

For who wil not be bold to say, that this single life of yours, is a life celestial and Angelical? or that in the Resurrection, al the Elect shal be as you now are, as the Angels of God in heauen, who∣ly forbearing marriage? Preserue, my Brethren, this precious Iewel, preserue that sanctitie of life, which resembleth you to the Saints, and maketh you of the house-hold of God;* 1.275 holie Scripture saying, that In∣corruption maketh a man neare to God. You are that which you are, not by your owne desert, but by the grace of God, in regard of your chastitie and sanctimonie, Angels vpon earth, or rather Cittizens of Heauen, but yet a while vpon earth pilgrims. What shal we say of the guift of Prophecie? Truly it is a rare kind of prophecying,* 1.276 that which I see you giuen vnto, and an excellent studie to which I see you applied. What is that? that which the Apostle speaketh of, not to consider the things which are seene, but which are not seene. This certainly is to prophecie; To walk in spirit; to liue according to faith; to seeke the things which are about, not which are vpon earth; to forget the things which

are behind; to stretch to those which are before vs, is a great part of Prophecie. For how is our conuersation in heauen, but by the spirit of Prophecie? For so the Pro∣phets of-old were, as if they were not, among the men of their time; but by spirit and Prophetical commotion, transcending the dayes they liued in, they did reioyce to see the day of our Lord; they saw it and were glad in it. Let vs heare what profession the Apostles were of: Behold, we haue left al, and haue followed thee.* 1.277 If it be lawful to glorie, we haue glorie; but if we be wise, we wil haue care, that we haue it with God. For not our mightie hand, but our Lord hath done al these things. He that is powerful hath done great things to vs, so that our soule may worthily magnify our Lord. For it is by his great guift, that in so great measure we follow that great course and purpose, in which those great Apostles did glorie. Thus doth S. Bernard discourse in commendation of a Religious state, paralelling it in manie things with those three degrees of Perfection.

Let vs see how in some things he doth preferre it, which is a farre greater commendation. Perhaps, saith he, if I wil glorie also in this, I shal not be vnwise; for I shal speak the truth:

There be some here that haue left more then a boat and nets. And what is it, that the Apostles left al indeed but to follow our Sauiour, who was present with them? It is not for me to say what it is; we shal with more safetie heare our Sauiour himself saying: Be∣cause thou hast seene me, Thomas, thou hast belieued; blessed are they that haue not seene, and haue belieued. Perhaps also it is a more excellent kind of Prophecie, not to attend to anie temporal thing, nor to things that with time doe perish, but to those that are spiritual and Eternal. And the treasure of Chastitie is more illustrious in a vessel of earth, and vertue in some sort more laudable in flesh that is fraile and weake. When therefore we find in this bodie of ours an Ange∣lical conuersation, in our hart a Prophetical expectation, in both an Aposto∣lical perfection, what a masse of grace is there?

Thus spake S. Bernard; and I know not what can be said more to the honour and commendation of a Reli∣gious Institute.

10. But what do we stand heaping togeather the praises of men, when we haue the verdict of Truth it self from God's owne mouth? For of this State our Sauiour spake those words: If thou wilt be perfect, go and sel al that thou hast, and come follow me.* 1.278 Where it is to be considered what our Sauiour said; and to whome. He spake to a man that was not wicked and debauched, but honest and orderlie; for he had kept the commandments of God al his life-time he had done no man no wrong; and our Sauiour beholding him, did loue him. Who would not haue thought that this man was perfect, seing he had been so careful and diligent in fulfilling the law of God? and yet our Sauiour tels him: Thou wantest yet one thing; a thing so great and of so high a straine, that the man (though inuited by our Sauiour) had a horrour to climbe vp this one degree and step. Let vs see therefore in what this Perfection doth consist, which the man did want; If thou wilt be perfect, go and sel al. He therefore that selleth al, that is, he that forsaketh al and followeth the doctrine of Christ, is in a per∣fect state: he that hath not done this, though he haue done al other things, wanteth yet one thing. Wherefore a Religious life is the highest Perfection, by confession not only of learned and holie men, but of our Sauiour himself;

and for as much as concerneth the perfection of our owne soules, there is not a higher or more eminent State.

* 1.27911. If we consider the nature itself of Religion, we shal discouer more plainly the same Prerogatiue. For first, Religion is ranked among the Euangelical Counsels, and is one of the chief of them, or rather the chiefest and greatest among them. Which we may gather by the manner of our Sauiour's speach, when he wished the yong man to this course, saying: If thou wilt. For as then it was proposed to that yong man, so it is now proposed to euerie one vnder the same forme: If they wil. Now certainly a Counsel is farre more excellent then a Precept,* 1.280 for manie reasons. First in regard of the matter▪ The matter of a Pre∣cept is more easie, the matter of a Counsel more hard and difficult▪ The matter of a Precept is grounded vpon the same grounds that Nature leads vs to, the matter of a Counsel is aboue the straine of Nature; The matter of a Precept is alwayes good, of a Counsel better; because a Counsel includeth the Precept, and addeth some-what more aboue it. Moreouer Precepts be common to al, to the high and to the low, to the wise and to the simple; Counsels are not for al; yea they are for those only, that wil of their owne accord admit them. Precepts oblige people euen against their wil; Counsels are free and voluntarie, before a man hath willingly obliged himself vnto them. Pre∣cepts, if they be kept, deserue a reward; if they be neglected, bring pu∣nishment vpon vs; Counsels, if they be not vndertaken, bring no punish∣ment at al vpon vs; if they be vndertaken and kept, deserue a great re∣ward.

* 1.28112. Another thing, by which we may discouer the perfection of a Religious State, is the excellencie of the actions which flow from Religion; for they are not only aboue the strength of Nature, but doe so farre surpasse the bounds therof, as that they cannot be atchieued but by an extraordinarie abundant current of Grace. For to bridle our senses, to subiect our flesh to Chastitie, vtterly to kil our owne wil, to forgoe our freedome, to put our necks into a yoake of perpetual seruitude, to embrace Pouertie, to possesse nothing, to doe the basest offices in a house, to be readie at euerie beck of another man, and alwayes wholy to depend of another's wil in al things concerning vs: These and manie other things of the same nature, which are so inward to a Religious life that Religion cannot be without them, are no lesse repugnant to our cor∣rupted nature bending wholy to self-loue, then it is against the nature of a man's bodie, to fly in the ayre. For as the heauines of our bodie doth hinder that we cannot fly; so the heauines and corruption of our mind is opposit to al these things. What therefore is a Religious man but a perpetual Miracle vpon earth, & so manie Religious men,* 1.282 so manie Miracles? whereof S. Bernard also speaketh in this manner: What greater miracle can there be, then for so manie youths, so manie yong Gentlemen, so manie others whome heer I see to remaine as it were in an open prison without irons,* 1.283 held only by the feare of God, and to continue in so great affliction of Pennance, beyond the force of man, beyond nature, contrarie to their wonted custome, and breeding? I verily think, that your-selues doe see how manie miracles we might quickly finde, "if we would search particularly into euerie man's passage out of Aegypt,

his iourney in the desert; that is, his renouncing of the world, his en∣trance into the Monasterie, and his conuersation while he is there. What perfection therefore can be greater then the perfection of Religion, which is so miraculous?

13. Where we may obserue,* 1.284 that the Perfection of euerie thing is two-fold. For there is a Perfection, without which a thing is not perfect in his owne nature; as, if a man want bodie or soule; whereas if he haue both these, he is sayd to be perfect, for as much as concerneth the nature of man. There is another Perfection, which giues a kind of grace to a thing; and if it want it, though in nature it be compleat, it is stil sayd to be imperfect; as, if a man haue bodie and soule, but his bodie be crooked and deformed. In like manner the perfection of a Christian is two-fold; one is as it were essential, and consisteth in the ful obseruance of the Commandments; and this Perfection by itself alone, is but lame and imperfect; because it wan∣teth that grace and beautie, which the keeping of the Counsels may adde vnto it, as a degree of farre higher perfection; a perfection which no man, doubtles, can choose but loue and desire,* 1.285 if he doe behold it. For goodnes, and beautie, and order, is naturally so forcible, that we cannot but desire it, if we once cast the eyes of our minde or bodie vpon it; though in smal things there can be but smal shew of it. How forcible therefore must it needes be, when it appeares in things that are rare and excellent? For as we doe not only take pleasure in viewing a gardin (for example) that is neatly kept, and wel set-forth and furnished; or a house that is wel built and commodious, and such other things of greater bulck; but in a flower, and an apple, and in anie little thing that is curiously wrought, and hath anie workmanship in it, and finally in whatsoeuer we find anie expression of beautie and handsomnes, and in euerie one of these things, according to the seueral kinds and natures of them: Much more contentment, doubtles, must we needes take in anie thing, the more compleate and admirable the perfection of the thing is. Wherefore seing among al the things of this world, nothing can be better or of greater value, then one's Minde and Soule; the perfect ornament, and most compleat perfection therof must needes be the thing, which of al others is most beautiful and comelie in itself, and most to be desired. For if a man, that beholds attentiuely the beautie of a bodie, be necessa∣rily taken with the proportion that is betwixt one member and another, and with the conuenient temper of the coulour and complexion of it; the same temper, and proportion, and beautie being in the Mind farre more excellent, shal it not draw a man to the like contentment and ad∣miration? And if no man, in whose power it were to frame himself a bodie, would make it lame, imperfect, and deformed; what madnes is it, to choose a soule, that is crooked and imperfect? In al other things, we desire the best, and the most compleate. If we be to buy a horse, or to build a house, or to make a sute of clothes, or a payre of shoes, we should thinke ourselues fooles, if of purpose we should choose the worst, when we might haue better; and of things that are within

vs, we desire in al other things to be excellent; They that studie, desire to be excellent in learning; they that practise their weapon, content themselues with no meane skil in it; and in euerie handie-craft, though in itself the trade be base and seruil, yet euerie bodie desires to do it, after the best manner; because Perfection pleaseth in euerie thing, and euerie bodie doth ayme at it, and labour for it. If therefore in these little things, perfection doth so much please vs, the perfection of the mind must certainly in reason be farre more plea∣sing, as being farre more graceful and admirable, and specially the perfection, which vertue and good life doth worke in vs. Wherefore seing there cannot be found a subiect more noble then our minde, nor a more noble forme then sanctitie, and the compound of them both must consequently needes be the rarest and most Diuine that can be: Religion, which contayneth al this, must necessarily also be valued accordingly, and loued, and embraced, and sought for by al meanes possible.

Of the dignitie of a Religious State, in regard of the similitude, which it hath with God and with our Sauiour. CHAP. XI.

HITHERTO we haue spoken of so much of the dignitie of a Religious life, as comes by the Vertues and other ex∣trinsecal ornaments which are in it: Now we wil consider what honour and excellencie doth accrue vpon it by the similitude, which it hath with Christ our Sauiour, and with God; which doubtlesse is so great, as greater cannot be vpon earth. And as for t••e similitude which it hath with our Sauiour Christ, two things may be briefly considered, both of them in themselues apparent enough. First the likenesse which is betwixt his manner of life, and a Religious course; secondly, the great honour and dignitie, which this similitude doth bring with it.

* 1.2862. Al Christians, as the Apostle telleth vs, must imitate our Sauiour; their profession & their verie name doth require it of them: Religious people there∣fore doe aboue al others most punctually and most exactly endeauour vnto it, framing their seueral institutions, after the manner of life and conuer∣sation of our B. Sauiour▪ as painters draw a picture after life. Their pouertie, resembleth his pouertie, who had not where to leane his head; Their chastitie, his chastitie, who was the brightnes of the light Eternal; their obedience is drawne from the deapth of his humilitie, who was obedient euen vnto death; finally whatsoeuer Religious people doe,* 1.287 al their exercises, al their endeauours, are conformable to that patterne and example, which was shewed the world in that mystical Hil,* 1.288 which is the humane Nature of our Sauiour, ouer∣topping al men in vertue and dignitie, farre higher then the highest hil doth the rest of the earth. Whereupon S. Bernard sayth, that men of good wil, who

out of a Christian resolution haue either exchanged their riches with pouertie, or, though they had none, haue set them at naught as if they had had them, forsaking al for him, as he forsooke al for their sakes, doe follow wheresoeuer he goeth. Which onlie word (wheresoeuer he goeth) doth imply not only imitation, but a most perfect expression of him.

3. This expression is most of al to be seen in the Crosse of Christ; which Cassian doth lay before our eyes in liuelie coulours, out of a Speach, which Penusius (a holie Abbot) made in his hearing, to a Nouice, when he admitted him to a Monastical course. For, according as Cassian relateth,* 1.289 he sayd thus vnto him; that the forsaking of the world, is as it were an image of the Crosse, the whole life of a Religious man expressing the manner in which our Sauiour hung vpon it. For as he that is crucifyed, cannot stirre his bodie as he list, neither on the one side, nor the other;* 1.290 so the wil of a Religious man is fastned to the Crosse, that is, to a thing that is continually paineful and irksome to flesh and bloud: And as he, that hangeth vpon a Crosse, doth neither minde that which is before his eyes, nor care for prouiding for to morrow, nor desireth lands nor possessions, but liuing in bodie, is dead to al things in though, and affection, and hath his mind wholy fixed vpon that which shal befal him in another world; so a Religious man is not only dead to vice and con∣cupiscence, but to this verie natural world itself, and to al things in it, and his mind and bodie is wholy bent to that place, where euerie moment he hopeth to arriue; and consequently being absolutly dead to the world, and to al the actions and desires therof, he liueth in him only, who was Crucifyed for him.

4. This similitude with Christ Crucifyed wil easily leade vs to the vnder∣standing of the honour and dignitie,* 1.291 which a Religious man getteth by it. The Maiestie of the Eternal God is so very great, and the dignitie of his Person so infinit, that whatsoeuer he vniteth to himself, he rayseth it withal to an infinit degree of honour and worth, and giueth it part of his owne beautie and glorie, by the vnion, which it hath with himself, how meane soeuer the thing were before. For what can be more contemptible then flesh, which is but dirt and filth? and yet so soone as it was vnited to that Diuine subsistence, that verie dirt was not only worthie of al veneration, but deserued to be adored as a thing Diuine. The Crosse itself, which before was so infamous, and, as the Apostle speaketh, a curse, now since the Sonne of God hath touched it, is become so honourable, that Kings and Princes weare it for an ornament vpon their heads. Which how due it is vnto it,* 1.292 S. Andrew felt in himself, when at his death he was not only not afrayd of the Crosse which was prepared for him, but hauing long-before desired it, went to it with ioy and gaue the reason in these wordes: Haile, Crosse, dedicated in the bodie of Christ, and adorned with his members, as with so manie pretious Iewels. And whosoeuer acknowledgeth and worshippeth Christ for God, must haue the like reuerent esteeme not only of the Crosse of Christ, but of pouertie, and contempt, and obedience, whereby we subiect ourselues to other men▪ and of al the parts and offices of Religious humilitie; for by the connexion, which they haue with our Sauiour, they receaued, as it

were, a ray of his Diuinitie, which hath excessiuely graced and ennobled▪ and,* 1.293 as I may say, in a manner Deifyed them. Wherupon S. Bernard sayd excellently wel:

Because Pouertie was not found in heauen, and abounded on earth, and yet the price of it was not knowne, the Sonne of God descen∣ded, to make it esteemed,* 1.294 by the account which he made of it. And in another place: The swathing-clowts of our Sauiour are more honourable, then anie purple-garment;* 1.295 and his manger more glorious then the golden Chaires-of-state; and his pouertie more rich, then whatsoeuer wealth and worldlie treasure. And yet more signally in one of his Sermons vpon Christmas∣day: Our Sauiour, to whome al the gold and siluer that is, doth be∣long, doth consecrate holie Pouertie in his owne bodie.* 1.296 What can be sayd more to the commendation and honour of Pouertie, and of an humble life, then that, by the vnion with God, it hath receaued a kind of sancti∣tie and consecration? Which manner of speach I finde also that S. Hierome vseth in his epistle to Nepotianus telling vs,* 1.297 that now we haue no reason to be drawne to loue riches by example of the ancient Patriarcks among the Iewes, seing our Sauiour hath sanctifyed the pouertie of his house.

Faith therefore grounded in the example, which we haue before our eyes, in our Sauiour, ought in reason to moue vs to this esteeme of it; specially seing the same example of our Sauiour not yet acted,* 1.298 but foreseen only afarre-of by the light of Prophecie, was so powerful with Moyses, that when he might haue been thought to haue been of the bloud-Royal of Aegypt, he chose rather, as the Apostle speaketh, to be afflicted with the people of God, esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches, then the Aegyptian treasures. If, I say, the knowledge of Christ was so forcible when he was as yet to come; ought not his example, in reason, be now much more powerful after his coming,* 1.299 when we behold him as it were painted and hanging before our eyes,* 1.300 and hauing filled the world with so manie, so cleare, and so pregnant examples of al kind of Humilitie? For, as S. Leo sayth very wel, rich men ought not to contemne the humilitie of Christ, nor noble men be ashamed of it; for no earthlie felicitie can rise to that greatnes, as to think scorne of that, which God in the shape of a slaue did not think vnworthie of himself.

5. Thus doth the similitude with Christ our Sauiour grace and honour a Religious State. But if descending to our Nothing, he could so exalt and en∣noble vs, what shal we thinke he doth when he rayseth vs to the likenes of that, which he is in himself? For therefore did the louer of mankinde stoop to the likenes of our weake state, that he might exalt vs to the similitude of of his Diuinitie.* 1.301 Therefore we wil consider further, how this course of life doth not only make vs like to his humiliation, but to his Maiestie; which if we can proue, what higher dignitie can there be for a Religious state to stretch itself vnto? For certainly the greatest excellencie that can be thought on in heauen or vpon earth, is to be like to God, which the Prince of Pride vnderstanding,* 1.302 and being ambitious of it, sayd, I wil get-vp aboue the starres, and be l••ke the Highest;* 1.303 and was not condemned for desiring it, but for desiring it disorderly, that is, not in that measure and way, which he ought. And so S. Leo sayth:

We find man created to the image of God, to the end he may

imitate his Creatour; and we are then in the dignitie, which doth naturally belong vnto vs, when the face of the Diuine goodnes doth, as it were, in a looking-glasse appeare in vs.

And S. Gregorie discoursing of those wordes of S. Paul,* 1.304 we are of the progenie of God, sayth thus:

We are sayd to be of the pro∣genie of God, not that we are borne of his nature, but because by his spirit he hath voluntarily begot vs, and as it were created vs againe by adoption; and consequently the more a man is renewed to the likenes of God by imi∣tation, and more liuelie expression of the image, which he hath receaued, the nearer doth he come to his natiue nobilitie.

6. Therefore to be like to God is without exception the greatest dignitie,* 1.305 which man can attaine vnto; let vs then see how manie and how efficacious meanes Religion hath to aduance vs to this likenes. First, it rooteth al vice out of our minde, and al turbulent passion; which two are the chiefest hin∣drances of the similitude we speake of.* 1.306 S. Basil doth reckon this a chief be∣nefit of a Religious State; and in one of his Sermons discourseth thus of it:

Man being created to the image of God, stayned this his dignitie most misera∣bly, when he suffered his minde to stoop to sinne and sinneful desires.* 1.307 But wheras it is natural to God, alwaies to enioy perfect peace and tranquillitie of minde, neuer troubled with anie sinister affection; whosoeuer bringeth himself to this quiet, doth doubtlesse restore the Image of God (defaced in him) to the beautie which he formerly had, and maketh himself like to God: And consequently a Religious course of life must needs be wonderfully ef∣fectual for this purpose, in regard of the Chastitie and Abstinence, which it doth professe; not only cleansing vs thereby from al filthie pleasure, but re∣forming our whole life also, and restrayning our whole behauiour within certain limits, without which the integritie of a single life cannot be pre∣serued.

7. To which purpose also S. Gregorie bringeth that saying of the Wise-man:* 1.308 Thou,* 1.309 o Lord, iudgest with tranquillitie; and sayth thus: We must specially note, that as often as we restraine the turbulent motions of our mind by the vertue of meeknes, we endeauour to returne to the likenes of our Creatour. It being therefore al the employment in a manner, which Religion hath, to alay these passions, and to teach vs how to compose them; it doth neces∣sarily follow, that it leades vs withal to the perfect similitude with God, of which we are speaking.

8. And yet Religion worketh a man to a higher and more excellent degree of this similitude with God, directing him wholy to cut-of his owne wil, that the sole wil of God comes to haue absolute preheminence in him in al things,* 1.310 great and little; in so much that he desireth nothing, but what God wil; nor refuseth anie thing, but what God disliketh; and stands moreouer so deeply obliged to God, that it is not lawful for him to desire anie thing but what God wil haue; which is the most absolute similitude, which man can possibly haue with God vpon earth.* 1.311 And of it S. Bernard speaketh in this manner:

The vnitie of spirit, which a man, that hath his hart seated on high, hath with God, is the perfecton of a wil that profiteth to God-ward, when a man doth not only desire what God wil haue, but is both so affected in minde, and

so perfect in his affection, that he cannot desire anie thing els, but that which God wil haue. For to desire that which God wil haue, is to be like to God; but moreouer not to be able to desire but that which God wil haue, is to be that which God is; whose wil and being are the same.

9. This great perfection, which S. Bernard speaketh of, either cannot be gotten in this life, or if there be any meanes to get it, it is by the Vowes of Religion;* 1.312 which doe not only subiect our wil to God, but bind it vnto him in bonds that cannot be broken. From which firmnes of our Vowes, we may gather another similitude betwixt vs and God. For as nothing is more na∣tural to God, then to be immutable, and subiect to no kind of change or alteration; so the Vowes of Religion giue a man the like propertie, as much as man is capable of it.* 1.313 Which S. Bernard also doth insinuate when he saith:

There is yet a nearer similitude with God by meanes of our wil consisting in Vertue; when a Soule doth ayme, as it were, to expresse the greatnes of the Souueraigne Good, by the greatnes of Vertue; and the vnchangeablnes of his Eternitie, by constant perseuerance in that which is good.

Those sacred bonds therfore of the Vowes bring with them this firmnes; which is a kind of expression of the Eternitie of God, binding vs euen against our wil, yet withal giuing vs strength and force to be willing. And we may wel liken it to a ship, that rides at ancker, which may be wafted and tossed by the billowes of the sea, but cannot be carried into the mayne, nor driuen vpon the rocks: so a Soule obliged to God (who in himself is so firme and immoueable) may lye floating vpon the water, and sometimes be tossed, by reason of our natural infirmitie, so long as we are in this world, specially the waues and gusts of temptation rushing against vs; but the cables of our Vowes doe easily stay vs; and though we be heaued-at, we giue not place, but stick immoueably to God, to whome we haue vowed our selues.

* 1.31410. There is yet an other similitude with God, which is admirable. For whereas in God there be two kinds of Excellencie; the one con∣sisting in Holines, the other in Power; men most commonly care not greatly to be like him in Sanctitie, but doe greatly affect to be like him in Power and authoritie, and dreame of nothing els, but how they may get honour,* 1.315 preferment, and command. Wherein they commit two se∣ueral errours: For if a bodie must needs fayle of being like to God in one of these, we should rather seeke to be like him in sanctitie, in re∣gard it is necessarie to saluation, then in power, which is not neces∣sarie; secondly because there is not a more effectual meanes to be like him in power and honour, then if we be like him in sanctitie: For as they are both necessarily conioyned in God, so whosoeuer doth imitate the excellencie of his goodnes, must necessarily be also like him in power. And this hath been the raysing of a Religious State aboue al things created; for, as I haue discoursed at large before, it is raysed by despising and treading al things vn∣der foot; for they that loue them, are slaues to them; they that contemne them

are maisters ouer them.* 1.316 Which subiect S. Bernard doth handle diuinely in one of his Sermons vpon the Canticles in these words:

When thou beginnest to renew and reforme thyself according to that rare and ancient similitude of the Eternal God (with whome there is no transmutation nor shadow of change and vicissitude) amidst the aduerse and prosperous chances of changea∣ble time,* 1.317 thou wilt retayne a certain image of Eternitie, to wit, an immoueable and inuiolable euennesse of a constant minde praysing God at al times, and consequently clayming, as it were by right, a kinde of state of perpetual vnchangeablenes, euen in the midst of the doubtful euents and vn∣doubted defects of this tottering world. For as he is, so shalt thou be in this world; neither in aduersitie fearful, nor dissolute in prosperitie. Thus, I say, this noble Creature made to the image and likenesse of him that made him, doth manifestly receaue againe and recouer the ancient degree of honour, which it had, esteeming it an vnworthie thing, to be conformable to this present world, but endeauouring rather (according to the doctrine of S. Paul) to be reformed in newnesse of his sense,* 1.318 to that similitude, to which he knoweth he was created; and by this meanes after a strange manner tur∣ning the state of things, he compelleth this world, which was made for him, to conforme itself to him; in regard that al things beginne to co∣operate vnto him for his good, as acknowledging their Maister, for whose seruice they were created, as it were, in his owne natural likenesse, hauing shaken-of the base shape which he had assumed. So that in my opinion, that, which the Only-begotten sayd of himself, may be also applyed to al his brethren, to wit, that if he were exalted from the earth, he would draw al things to himself;* 1.319 to them, I say, whome the Father hath foreknowne and predestinated to be conformable to the image of his Sonne,* 1.320 that he may be the first-begotten in manie brethren. And I, if I be exalted from the earth (I may boldly say it) wil draw al things to my self: for I doe not (my Bre∣thren) rashly vsurpe his speach, whose likenesse I put on.

Thus farre S. Bernard.

11. Wherefore it is certain, that this is the greatest glorie and honour which man can rise vnto, to be in this manner like vnto the Highest; for it placeth a Soule in that pitch of heighth, that it hath a kind of Soueraigntie ouer al creatures, like a little God. But no man arriueth vnto it, but he that (as S. Bernard speaketh) is exalted from the earth, that is, he that hath seated him∣self farre aboue the earth and al earthlie things, by contemning and abando∣ning them.

Religion is a kind of Martyrdome. CHAP. XII.

AMONG al the dutyes, which belong to a Christian, none is more excellent, none more commended, then Martyrdome. And the reason is, because both Charitie, from which it proceedeth, is the highest of al vertues; and among the workes of Charitie, Martyrdome is the greatest worke. The euil also, which we vndergoe by Martyrdome, is the greatest of euils, to wit, death; and the good, with which we parte, is the most desired of al goods, to wit, life. And yet this being so great a worke as it is, if we compare it with a Religious State, we shal find, that as in manie things Martyrdome goeth beyond Religion,* 1.321 so in manie things a Religious State ••ot•• surpasse Martyrdome; and be it neuer so great, Religion doth par∣take in great measure with it.

2. Martyrdome excelleth, in regard it endureth farre greater torments; yet the greater the torments are, they must needes be the sh••rter, and bring a man the sooner to his end. Religion therefore euen in this doth, in a manner, excel Martyrdome; because, though the paines be not so sharp, they are of greater continuance, and last the longer time. Martyrdome is to be preferred in regard it hath the glorie of laying downe a man's life, which, as I said, is the greatest thing that one can pawne for another. Religion, though it haue not this glorie, it hath the continuance of a long and holie life, furnished with plentie of good works, aduancing a man highly in the fauour of God, & rewarding him with manie degrees of glorie in heauen; so that, if we ayme at spiritual gaines, which is the intent of our trauels in the pilgrimage of this life, there is no doubt, but manie yeares wel and holily spent in Religion, according to the Rules and or∣ders of that State, wil amount to a greater masse & encrease of reward, then one onlie act of Martyrdome, which ordinarily doth passe in a moment of time, can purchase vs.

* 1.3223. Moreouer, whereas both these kinds of trafficking for the heauenlie kingdome are doubtles very gaineful, and bring a plentiful returne to those that deale in them, Religion notwithstanding must needes be the safer way of trading. For in Martyrdome certainly the hazard is very great; and so we finde that manie, who at first seemed stout and couragious, fainted at last most shamefully, when they came to the push. In which kind we reade of one of S. Pacomius his disciples, who hauing by importunitie drawne a consent from S. Pacomius, that he might put himself into an occasion of Martyrdome, fel most miserably, and returning to his monasterie, repayred by Religious discipline the dam̄age, which he had suffered by ouer-greedie desire of that Crowne. H••w pittifully doth S. Cyprian lament manie,* 1.323 who in his time were ouercome be∣fore the battaile, ouerthrowne before the encounter; who, so soone as Pro∣clamation was read, voluntarily of themselues ranne to the Market-place,

to deny Christ; and when the officers delayed them, because night gr••w on, vrged stil, that their wicked Protestation might be presently admitted? Reli∣gion on the other side is not subiect to this danger, because it is more sutable to a man's disposition; and there be manie things in it, which alay the harshnes of the course, so that the hardnes of it is not greatly felt. Martyrdome is not in our power: for neither ought we kil ourselues, nor prouoke others to kil vs; both because it were presumption to doe so, and because, as S. Thomas argueth, we should prouoke another to doe euil,* 1.324 which is against Charitie: so that the meanes of meriting by way of Martyrdome happens seldome, and is scarce or not at al to be had. Religion is at hand; we may this day, if we wil, em∣brace it.

4. Finally,* 1.325 Religion is a kind of Martyrdome; and if we consider the nature of Religion, togeather with the sayings of holie Fathers to this purpose, we shal not stick to yeald it so much honour. For first S. Gregorie writeth thus: There be two kinds of Martyrdome; the one in minde, the other both in minde and outward worke. We may be Martyrs therefore, though we be not killed by the sword of another, that striketh vs. To dye by the hand of the Persecu∣tour, is Martyrdome in open deed. But to abide reproachful speaches, to loue those that hate vs,* 1.326 is Martyrdome in secret thought. And S. Augustin to the same purpose writeth in this manner: Let vs striue against the deadlie allure∣ments of sinne, knowing that Christians cannot want daylie Martyrdomes, euen in these things.

For if Christ be Chastitie, Truth, and Iustice, he that layeth wayte against these Vertues, is a persecutour; and he a Martyr, that is resolued to maintaine them in himself, and defend them in others.

So that in the opinion of S. Augustin, inward Martyrdome consisteth in this, that as in the Martyrdome of the flesh, when the persecutour endeauoureth to take Christ from vs by taking away our faith, he is a Martyr that resisteth, to death; so when the diuel, (who is our greatest and cruellest persecutour) laboureth to take the same Christ our Sauiour from our harts, by depri∣uing vs of other vertues, as of Chastitie, Temperance, Humilitie, and the like; whosoeuer fights for our Sauiour in this kind, and remaineth constant in the difficulties of this conflict, is also a Martyr; the one fighting against the diuel, as it were, in person; the other hauing a man for his ad∣uersarie. In which respect Climacus calleth a Religious State,* 1.327 the warfare of a spiritual Martyrdome. And S. Hierome writeth thus vpon the death of Paula: Not only the shedding of bloud is to be accounted Martyrdome, but the vnspotted behauiour of a deuout minde, is a daylie Martyrdome;

The former Crowne is made of roses and violets, this of lillies; wherupon it is written in the Canticles:* 1.328 My beloued is white and ruddie, in peace and in warre bestowing vpon those, that ouercome, rewards alike.

5. There be other things also, which draw this commendation vpon a Religious State; and, if we belieue S. Bernard, Pouertie is none of the least:* 1.329 for thus he speaketh: What is the matter that one and the same promise is made to Martyrs, & to those that be poore, but that voluntarie Po∣uertie is in verie deed a kind of Martyrdome?

What is more admirable, or what Martyrdome can be more grieuous, then to be hungrie in the midst of

dayntie fare, to starue for cold in plentie of costlie apparrel, to be poore in the midst of riches, which the world affordeth, the Diuel offereth, our greedie appetite desireth? Shal not he deseruedly be crowned that fighteth in this manner, reiecting the World with his promises, scorning the Enemie with his temptations, and (which is farre more glorious) triumphing ouer him, and crucifying al itching Concupiscence? Finally the Kingdome of Heauen is therfore promised both to Martyrs, and to them that be Poore: because it is purchased by Pouertie, but by suffering Martyrdome for Christ, it is presently r••ceaued without delay.* 1.330

And in another place, comparing the incommodities of Pouertie and other corporal austerities with Martyrdome, he sayth, that when our Sauiour telleth vs, that we must hate our life, it is to be vnderstood, either by laying it downe as a Martyr, or by punishing it, as those, that be penitent, doe; And addeth moreouer, that this kind of Martyrdome, in which by spirit we mortifye the deeds of the Flesh, is not in shew so terrible, but in continuance more troublesome then that, in which our bodie is killed. And againe in another Sermon:

There is a kinde of Martyrdome and shed∣ding of bloud, in the daylie affliction of our bodie.

Where also he saith againe, that it is a milder,* 1.331 but a longer kind of Martyrd••me.

6. We may say the same of Chastitie; and S. Bernard among the seueral kinds of Martyrd••me without bloud, reckoneth Chastitie preserued, special∣ly in the time of youth.* 1.332 The sacrifice of our owne wil, and the binding of it so to Rule and to the pleasure of other men, that it cannot winde itself as it listeth, is another Martyrdome; which Abbot Pamb•• (a man of great authoritie and fame among the ancient Hermits) confirmeth in this manner: Foure Monks coming once to him, al of them rare for some one vertue or other, one for vigorous fasting, another for pouertie, the third for charitie toward his nei••hbour, the fourth for that he had liued two and twentie yeares vnder Obedience, he sticked not to preferre this last before them al; because the rest had practised the vertues which they had, according to their owne minde; but this last wholy casting-of his owne wil, had made himself a slaue to the wil of another man; and added further, that they that doe so, are Martyrs, if they continue in that course to the end of their life. And S. Athanasiu•• writeth of S. Antonie,* 1.333 that going to Alexandria with desire of suffering Martyrdome, and missing of his purpose, in regard that God had ordained otherwise, he retur∣ned back to his Monasterie, to the daylie Martyrdome of his Faith and Con∣science, as S Athanasius speaketh.

* 1.3347. But because Diuines deliuer, that without death there is no Martyr∣dome, we wil shew that Religion wanteth not this perfection of Martyrdome also. Death hereaueth vs first of our wealth, our friends, and of al manner of things in this world: Religion doth the same; and so wholy, that we can no more enioy them, then if we were dead indeed; where it is particularly to be considered that when we dye our bodilie death, it is easie to beare the want of al things, because we go to a life, where we shal haue no need of them▪ but ••eer where we haue need of these things, and where the presence of them before our eyes doth continually moue vs to desire them, it is farre more hard to deny hem to ourselues. Secondly our bodie feeleth paine, if we be killed by our enemies; and who can deny but our mind hath his sorrowes, and s••r∣rowes

the more paineful by how much the mind is more noble? For if it hath part with the bodie and the griefs therof, because it is the forme of the bodie; the grief, doubtlesse, which is within itself, must needs be more paineful to it. By Martyrdome a man dyes to his bodie; In Religion a man dyes to himself. For (as I haue shewed before) a Religious man can no more doe anie thing of himself, or for himself, then if he were dead and buried, be∣••eaued both of bodie and soule. And what is it for a man to haue his soule stil in his bodie, if he can haue no vse of it for anie ends of his owne? For neither in Martyrdome is the soule killed, but passeth from this miserable world to a more happie life; life is not lost by it, but changed for a life that is farre better and more pleasant; so that if we lay al these things to∣geather, confirmed by holie Fathers, we shal finde not one Martyrdome alone,* 1.335 but manie Martyrdomes in one Religion: One in Pouertie, another in Chastitie, a third and greatest of al in the perpetual denial of our owne wil; another againe in the affliction and subduing of our flesh; and finally in the perpetual conflict and combat, which we haue with the craftie Serpent, who laboureth by al possible meanes to take Christ from our hart. This was the sense of Paphnutius a holie Abbot (not he of whome there is often mention in V••••is Patrum,* 1.336 but another of great sanctitie and austeritie of life.) This man in the raigne of Diocletian the Emperour being apprehended by the President of Aegypt, whose name was Arianns, and threatned with racks, and Scorpions, and burning frying-pans, and such like tortures (which the President caused to be brought before him) vnlesse he would Sacrifice to the Gods, laughing at them sayd:

Doest thou think, that thy torments are so terrible to me, that to auoyde them I shal choose to deny the liuing God? No; but rather know, that the Rules of our Monasteries doe contayne manie more grieuous torments then these be; for we are continually tryed in manie paineful exercises, but our Sauiour doth strengthen vs so that we are able to beare and ouercome them al; wherefore he also wil now strengthen me to ouercome thy crueltie.

7. S Bernard declared the self-same point by a pleasant passage,* 1.337 which was thus: Meeting one day, in the territorie of Prince Theobald, a great throng of people leading a fellow to the gallowes, that had been a notable robber by the high-way-side, rushed in among them to the theef, and would needs haue him from them, saying, he would hang him with his owne hands. Prince Theo∣bald being aduertised of the arriual of the Saint, came running to him, and thinking that he knew not what the fellow was, began to repeate his enor∣mous crimes, and to protest with great vehemencie, that he deserued to dye. S. Bernard smiling answered thus:

I know al this wel enough; and therefore, because one death is not enough for his manie offences, I wil make him dye manie deaths. And so taking of his irons he lead him to his Monasterie, where becoming a Monk, and for thirtie yeares togeather dying (as the Apostle speaketh) euerie day,* 1.338 he punished himself with manie deaths, in lieu of that one death, which he was to suffer by the hand of Iustice.

Religious people are the Friends, and Children, and Spouses of God. CHAP. XIII.

* 1.339SAINT Bernard in one of his Sermons to his Bretheren, dis∣coursing of a Religious vocation, among other commendations therof, to extol the greatnes of this benefit, sayth in this manner:

He hath not done so to euerie nation, as to manifest not only his Iudgements vnto them, but also his Counsels. But certainly with vs he hath dealt magnifically, not only admitting vs to be his seruants, but choosing vs to be his friends.

He sayth truly, and with very good ground, that God hath dealt magnifically with vs; because the friendship of God, doth not only inuolue excessiue profit, but exceeding great honour and dignitie, according to that of the Psalme:* 1.340 Thy friends, ó God, are greatly honoured, and t••eir principalitie is greatly strengthned; where he calles them Princes, whome God hath exalted to his friendship.

2. But to the end we may vnderstand how farre this dignitie reacheth, it wil not be amisse to consider the ground which Aristotle giues in this matter,* 1.341 who in Moral things, as farre as the light of Nature can carrie a man, writes solidly. He therefore sayth, that ••riendship consists in an equalitie between partie and partie, so that if there happen to be great inequalitie betwxit the parties that are friends, either by difference of their dispositions, or disparitie of their fortunes and state of life, friendship must needs fayle betwixt them; which is the reason, why we cannot (as he sayth) haue friendship neither with Kings nor with God. In that he sayth, there must be some equalitie or likenes betwixt friends,* 1.342 his opinion is not to be re∣iected; but he was mistaken in that he saw not how man might be like to God; and no wonder, because he knew nothing of the guift of God, which supplieth that in man, which is wanting in Nature. We haue reason rather to giue eare to our Sauiour telling vs expressely: Now I wil not cal you seruants,* 1.343 but I cal you friends; and to the Apostle who sticketh not to cal vs,* 1.344 the domesticks of God. Wherefore from the ground, which Aristotle layeth, we may more truly conclude, that seing friendship must necessarily be grounded vpon an equalitie, something is put into vs by the hand of God, which rayseth the basenes of our nature to so excellent a likenes with him, as to be capable of his friendship. Of which guift though al be partakers, that haue the Iustifying Grace of God inherent in them, yet Religious people haue manie particular reasons to reioyce in it aboue others, and reape manie singular commodities by enioying it.

3. And first, they haue that most excellent similitude with God, which consisteth in the freenes, which they enioy, from vice and multiplicitie of af∣fections, and in the constancie and permanencie of their wil in good, where∣of

I haue discoursed at large before; and also by the sublime disposition of their minde, soaring aboue al things created, and domineering ouer them by con∣temning them; finally, not to repeate euerie thing againe, by the integritie of their chast and continent life,* 1.345 whereof the Wise-man sayth: Incorruption maketh a man neare to God; and doubtles the nearer we come to the likenes with God, the truer and more perfect is our friendship with him; and the effects of his friendship,* 1.346 more signal and more abundant in vs. For wheras the first thing in friendship is, to make things common among friends; what is there that Religions people doe not giue vnto God, or what hath God, which he doth not impart to them againe? The Religious giue themselues, and that they haue; God on the other side bestowes vpon them his graces, and his glorie, that is, himself. As therefore in this state of life, there is a real communication of al things betwixt God and them, and consequently true & perfect friendship; so they that haue not yet arriued to this degree of communication, may vnder∣stand thereby, that as farre as they are short of it, so farre they are short of the perfection of the friendship with God.

4. Moreouer,* 1.347 in this friendship there wanteth not Conuersation, without which (as Aristotle affirmeth) no friendship can hold. I doe not meane such external conuersation,* 1.348 as depends of nearnes of bodie and sense, which can not reach the presence of God, and things Diuine; but the communication which we may haue by our minde and spirit, wherewith we traffick with God and his holie Angels, and performe that which the Apostle sayth: Our conuersation is in heauen. For where is this more perfectly, more frequently, & more at ease performed then in Religion,* 1.349 which of purpose barreth al other conuersation, wholy to attend to this? And God, who sayth, His delight is to be with the sonnes of men, cannot but conuerse much more willingly with them, that so ardently desire his blessed companie, & absolutly preferre it before al things created.

5. What honour therefore, what pleasure, what commoditie must neces∣sarily follow of this Conuersation? For if we desire to conuerse with wise men, to the end we may learne by their wisdome; and with rich men, that we may partake of their riches; vpon farre more solid grounds we may hope for al kind of good by conuersing with God, and in particular, manie heauenlie il∣lustrations, manie sweet communications, and present tokens of his loue towards vs; which cannot but bring wonderful contentment to our soules, and make vs feele within ourselues that,* 1.350 which in the Book of Wisdome is spoken of the wisdome which we are speaking of:* 1.351 His conuersation hath no betternes, and his commerce no irksomnes, but ioy and gladnes. Wherefore S. Bernard ha•• great reason to make the comparison, which he doth, betwixt the Reli∣gious and Secular people, saying, that Religious people be of the house-hold of God; Secular people, and they that are good among them, belong indeede to his Armie, but further off; and addeth: Happie are you that haue been thought worthie to be of his ••ouse-hold, to whome the Apostle speaketh when he sayth: Now you are not strangers and forreners, but you are Citizens with the Saints, and domesticks of God. It is therefore a matter of great consequence to be the friend of God, and to conuerse familiarly with him, and a place of great honour and dignitie, and also of exceeding great commoditie.

* 1.3526. But yet this league, which is betwixt a Religious man and God, is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my conceit of a higher straine then friendship, and deserues a more honourable name, claiming a kinde of kindred and neare propinquitie with him; which if I did fayne of mine owne head, it would sauour of pride and presumption for me to say it; but seing our Sauiour hath so expresly cast it vpon vs, it were both foolish not to entertaine it, and wicked not to belieue it. No man can be ignorant of the answer, which he made to the man that brought him word, that his mother and his brethren were standing without,* 1.353 He that doth the wil of my Father that is in heauen, he is my brother, and my sister, and my mother. To what state of life doth this saying more properly agree, then to a Religious course, where people fulfil the wil of God, not in one or two things, but in al & alwayes, and are bound to the wil of God as strictly, as they are bound to the Obedience which they vow to keepe perpetually al their life-time? Wherefore the promise also, which S. Paul cites out of the ancient Prophets, doth belong vnto them:

Goe out of the midst of them,* 1.354 and be separated from them, saith our Lord, and I wil be a father to you, & you shal be my sonnes and daughters, saith our Lord Almightie.

Religious people therfore hauing performed the first, and depar∣ted out of the midst of the world and worldlings, it remaineth that God en∣tertaine them as his children; and though it were honour enough to be seruants to so infinit a Maiestie, yet they may iustly claime this other title, and expect he should haue a fatherlie care ouer them, and cherish them with fatherlie loue.

* 1.3557. Finally, that no degree of loue and friendship nor benefit also might be wanting in this one benefit of God, he deales so liberally with these his children, that (as al Diuines deliuer, and particularly S. Thomas) he makes them his Spouses; which I know not whether I may say it is a nearer, but certainly it is wont to be a more sweet kind of tye,* 1.356 then that of children. And to say no more then that which is true, the marriage of a Religious soule with God, is in a manner as truly a marriage, as any can be between man and wife.* 1.357 S. Augustin attributeth this effect to voluntarie Chastitie. They that vow virginitie to God, saith he, though they haue a higher place of honour and dignitie in the Church, yet they are not without marriage; for they pertaine to the marriage with the whole Church,* 1.358 in which mariage, the Bridegrome is CHRIST. Which doubtles agreeth particularly to al Religious people, in "regard of their Continencie. For God wil neuer suffer himself to be ouercome with liberalitie, but whatsoeuer we doe for his loue, he rewardes it euen in things of like nature with great encrease. For as he returneth a hundred-fold in possessions to them that leaue their possessions for his sake, & to them that leaue father and mother he giueth himself in lieu of them, with a hundred times as much loue and charitie as father and mother could beare towards them; so he repayeth in like kind them, that forsake carnal marriage for his loue, and vouchsafeth them a more happie marriage with himself.* 1.359 Though besides Cha∣stitie, there is another thing in Religion, which much resembleth marriage. For as marriage tyeth man and wife togeather with so absolute a bond, as that our Sauiour sayd ••f it,* 1.360 That which God hath conioyned, let not man seuer; so when a man hath bound himself once to God by solemne Vow in Religion, that bond can neuer be broken or dissolued by anie humane power. So that looke

what force the words (I take thee) haue in carnal marriage, the same force that word (I vow) hath in our spiritual marriage with God: and when it is once vttered, it draweth vpon vs so firme, and strong, and perpetual a tye, that no humane power (as I sayd) can free vs of it. The difference is that the first bindeth vs to man, the second to God; where we may easily see the infinit disparitie, which is both of dignitie and contentment betwixt the one and the other; yet they agree in this, that as man and wife are both of them equally obliged by marriage, so the Vowes of Religion tying vs to God, doe tye also God to vs; such is his infinite loue towards vs. What therfore can we desire more?* 1.361 They agree also in that, as the wise hath not power ouer her owne bodie, but the husband (as the Apostle speaketh) so Religious people haue no power nei∣ther ouer bodie nor minde; because spiritual marriage doth equally giue both to God, and indeed the mind rather then the bodie, or at least principally the mind; so that Christ our Sauiour hath ful title, and right, and power ouer both, established vpon him.

8. Moreouer as in carnal marriages the Bride leaues her father's house, her parents, and kinsfolk, and brethren, and al her friends which she had at home,* 1.362 and goeth to howse with her husband; so Religious people forsake al their kindred, their parents, and al with whome they were bred and acquain∣ted before, to goe to howse with Christ, and be incorporated in his familie. And they forsake them more, then any wife is wont to doe; because they parte from them not in bodilie presence only, but withdraw their mind and affection from them, and barre al communication with them. Vpon which point S. Bernard hath a pleasant discourse (as his manner is in al other things) in one of his Sermons vpon the Canticles, where hauing shewed how like a Religious Soule is to the Eternal Word of God,* 1.363 he goeth on in this manner: From this degree she, that is as I haue said, dares now think of marriage; and why should she not, beholding herself therefore marriageable, because she i•• like? Highnes doth not fright her, seing likenes doth equal her.

Loue makes the agreement, and her Profession weds her. The forme of Profession is this:* 1.364 I haue sworne, and resolued to keep the iudgements of thy iustice. The Apostles following this forme said: Behold, we haue left al, and followed thee; what therefore shal we haue? That which was spoken of carnal marriage, but represented by the spiritual wedding of the Church with Christ, soundeth to the same effect. Therefore shal a man forsake his father and mother, and cleaue to his wife, and they shal be two in one flesh.* 1.365 Wherefore when you see a Soule forsake al, and cleaue to the Eternal Word with al her desire, when you see her liue accor∣ding to the Word, rule herself by the Word, and conceaue of the Word, that which she may bring forth for the Word; a soule that may say: To me, to liue is CHRIST;* 1.366 and to dye, gaine; make account she is a wife, married to the Word, the hart of her husband confideth in her, knowing her to be faithful, be∣cause she hath set al things at naught in comparison of him, and esteemeth al things as dung, that she may gaine him.

Thus S. Bernard.

9. Some bodie perhaps wil aske,* 1.367 where be the children of this marriage? They are not wanting; because nothing that is good and delightful should be wanting in it. S. Bernard in the place before alleaged sayth, that in this spiri∣tual marriage there be two kinds of bringing-forth of children, & two sorts of

children, different, but not contrarie, to one an other, to wit, when these bles∣sed Mothers either by preaching bring-forth soules, or in meditation bring∣forth spiritual conceits.* 1.368 Of the first kind of children S. Paul speaketh in these words; My little children, with whome agai••e I am in labour, til Christ be formed in you.* 1.369 Of the second he sayth; whether we suffer excesse of mind, to God. And comparing them both togeather S. Bernard sayth thus:* 1.370

The mind is otherwise disposed, when it doth fructifie to the Word and otherwise when it doth enioy the Word. There the necessitie of others doth cal vpon it; heer the sweetnes of the Word doth inuite it: And certainly such a Mother is ioyful in the children, which she bringeth; but much more ioyful in the armes of her Spouse embra∣cing her; deare are the pledges of children, but kisses doe more delight; It is good to saue manie; but to suffer excesse, and to be with the Word, i•• mo•• delightful.

* 1.37110. This is the true and real marriage of a Soule with the Eternal God, wherein if it glorie, as S. Agnes anciently did, it shal not be vnwise, because she is betroathed to him, vpon whom the Angels wayte; by whose loue and embracings, puritie is not lost, but doubled; from him she receaues a ring and princesse iewels, and by his vermilion-bloud her cheekes are dyed red. Of the happines & perpetuitie of this Marriage,* 1.372 Osee the Prophet speaketh excellently wel in these words:

I wil espouse thee to me for euer; and I wil espouse thee to me in iustice, and iudgement, and in mercie, and commiseration; and I wil es∣pouse thee to me in fayth, and thou shalt know that I am thy Lord.

It is groun∣ded (as he sayth) in fayth, not in flesh and bloud; for it is not contracted with man, but with that infinit Maiestie; whom we come to embrace, not with the armes of our bodie, but by stretching forth the armes of our soule, by the sinnewes of fayth.

* 1.37311. But what consideration can be more delightful then that, wheras ca••∣nal marriage ceaseth when we cast-of this flesh by death, the heauenlie espou∣sals (as the Prophet calles them) are euerlasting; they beginne heer on earth, but are perfected and consummated in heauen; and are to last as long as our Bridegrome and we doe liue, which is for al eternitie. Finally of the dignitie of this marriage S. Bernard in an other Sermon both truly and eloquently spea∣keth thus:* 1.374 How hapneth it, ô Soule of man, how hapneth it to thee? From whence comes this inestimable glorie vpon thee, that thou shouldst deserue to be the Bride to him, whom the Angels desire to behold?

Whence comes it that he should be thy Bridegrome, whose beautie the sunne & the moone admi∣r••, at whose beck al things are changed? What wilt thou render to our Lord, for al that which he hath bestowed vpon thee, that thou shouldst be his compa∣nion at board, his companion in his kingdome, finally his companion in bed; that the King should bring thee into his chamber? Looke what thou wilt heer∣after think of thy God, looke what thou mayst presume of his Maiestie! Con∣sider what armes of charitie thou wilt lend him in the meane time, to loue him againe, and embrace him, who hath valued thee at so high a rate, yea who hath made thee to be of so high a value. For he made thee againe out of his side, when for thee he slept vpon the Crosse, and to that end entertayned the sleepe of death. For thee he came forth from his Father, and left the Synagogue his mo∣ther, that thou cleauing to him mightst be one spirit with him. Thou therfore,

daughter, harken, and see, and consider how great things thy God hath thought thee worthie of, and forget thy people, and the house of thy father, forsake thy carnal affections; forget thy secular behauiour; abstaine from thy former vices, and forgoe thy euil customes. Thus speaketh S. Bernard in this point. In which if we may giue him credit, so graue a man as he is, and writing so aduisedly as he doth, what life can be more honourable, or in regard of pleasure more desireful, then Religion?

For in euerie ordinarie marriage it is generally the custome and also necessarie, that man and wife partake of one an others condition, state, and goods, insomuch that if a Prince, or a King, take a woman of meane estate to his wife, she hath part with him, both of his wealth, and of his com∣mand, because as by marriage they are alone, so whatsoeuer they haue, must needs be common betwixt them. And the self-same hapneth in our spiritual marriage with God, and is so much the more perfectly performed, by how much the goodnes of God is infinitly greater, and his loue towards mankind infinitly more ardent and vehement.

Religious people are the Temples of God, in regard they are consecrated to his honour. CHAP. XIV.

ANOTHER degree of dignitie accrueth to Religious people by Consecration. A dignitie certainly farre hi••her then al hu∣mane honour, and raising vs to a kind of participation of Diuinitie itself, as much as humane frayltie is capable of. For as al honour, worship and reuerence is due to the Diuine Na∣ture, by reason of the supereminent excellencie and worth which is in it; so when a thing is once dedicated to God, the verie relatiō which it hath to him, puts a new kind of worth into it, and euerie one takes it euer af∣ter to be worthie of particular respect and reuerēce, as a thing seuered from the ranck and nūber of other things, which otherwise are of the same nature with it. And this is that which Religion doth, by dedicating & consecrating to God those that vndertake that course. For so the Glorie of Schoole-diuinitie,* 1.375 S Thomas & the Thomists, deliuer, when disputing the nature of a solemne Vow they say it consists in Consecration, which leaueth such a print in the soule, of relation to God, that it can neuer be blotted-out or razed by anie meanes. And it may be cōfirmed out of S. Augustin, who expounding one of the Psalmes sayth expresly, that by force of the vowes of Religiō we are made Tēples of God. And S. Basil sayth, that whosoeuer renounceth the world, is made as it were a vessel for the seruice of God, and consequently must beware he be not polluted by sinful vse, but carefully preserue himself as a thing dedicated to God, least defi∣••ing his bodie againe, which he hath consecrated to God, in the ordinarie serui∣ces of this life, he be guiltie of sacriledge.

Behold, S. Basil accoūteth it Sacriledge, not only if a man, that is once cōcrated to God, pollute himself by sinne, but if he returne to prophane, or, as he speaketh, to cōmon and ordinarie cōuersation.

* 1.3762. S. Bernard discourseth to the same effect, applying the whole Ceremo∣nie of the dedication of a Church, to the consecration of a Religious man to God. The solemnitie of this day (dearly beloued Brethren) is yours; yours is this solemnitie, you are they that are dedicated to God; he hath chosen and se∣lected you for his owne. How good an exchange haue you made (my beloued) of whatsoeuer you might haue enioyed in the world, since now by forsaking al, you haue deserued to be his, who is Authour of the world; and to haue him for your possession, who is doubtles the portion and inheritance of his? And so he goeth-on applying, as I said, to Religious people the whole cere∣monie, which is vsed in consecrating Churches, wherein (as he sayth) these fiue things concurre: Aspersion, Inscription, Inunction, Illumination, and Benediction, al which is performed in a Religious state. Aspersion is the washing away of our sinnes by Confession, by riuers of teares, by the sweat of pennance. Inscription made not in stone, but in ashes, signifyeth the Law, which Christ the true Bishop and Pastour of our soules writeth with his fin∣gar, not in tables of stone, but in the new hart which he giues, a hart humble and contrite. Vnction is the plentie of grace, which is giuen to the end to make this yoake rot from the face of the oyle. Illumination is the abundance of good works, which proceed from Religion, and shine before men, that they may glorify the heauenlie Father, and haue before their eyes what they may imitate. Finally Benediction (which is the conclusion of the whole Ceremonie) is as it ••ere a signe and seale of eternal glorie, fulfilling the grace of our Sanctifica∣tion, and bringing a most ample reward of al the good works which we haue done.

* 1.3773. Seing therefore the Consecration of a church built of lime and stone, doth so liuely represent vnto vs the Consecration of a Religious soule to God; from the same similitude of a material church we may take a scantling of the dignitie of a soule that is in that happie state. We see what difference there is betwixt the house of God dedicated to his vse, and an ordinarie house which is for the dwelling of men. If we regard the material, they are the same in both; stones, and morter, and timber alike: But the vse of them is farre dif∣ferent. For in our ordinarie dwelling, we eate, and drink, and sleepe, and play, and worke, and bring-in our horses and cattle for our vse, and we doe these things lawfully, and there is no indecencie in it; but if we doe anie of these things in a Church consecrated to God, it is an irreuerence to the place, and a sinne. The same we may say of a Chalice that is hallowed; for not only if we cast dirt vpon it, but if we drink in it at table, it is a great offence; and so we find,* 1.378 that the King of Babylon, after he had vsed the vessel of the Temple of Herusalem at his board, within few howers lost both his kingdome and life; so great is the sanctitie of these things; and people doe vsually make no other account, but that there is something in them, for which we ought not to vse or handle them without reuerence and veneration. As therefore betwixt the house of God and other houses, and betwixt a consecrated Chalice and other cups, there is so maine a difference in the esteeme of them: so a soule that is consecrated to God, doth farre excel the soule of a secular Lay-man in ranck and dignitie. And we haue so much the more reason to think and say so, because these material things being voyd of sense and reason, are not capable of

anie inward sanctitie by Consecration; but though we say that the walles, and the vestements, and the vessels be holie, and we reuerence them as such, yet al this holines is but outward; inwardly they are nothing altered: But the soule of man, is the proper seate of sanctitie, and consequently by Consecration it is inwardly adorned, and perfected, and drawne to a higher degree of dignitie, and nearer to God. What beautie therefore and grace must there needs be in that soule, which thus inwardly changed putteth off, as I may say, al mortal hue, and is cloathed with a kind of Diuinitie? what gold or pretious stone can be compared vnto it? or what sunne did euer shine so bright at noone-day, if we had eyes to behold this wonderful dignitie of ours, & of others that follow the same course.

4. And this dignitie is the greater,* 1.379 in regard that as a temple made of stone is therefore called the house of God, because the infinit Maiestie of God, which is euery where, doth particularly manifest itself in such a place, and as it were rest in that house: so in these spiritual temples, built, not by the workmanship of man, but by the hand of God, when they are once consecrated vnto him, he doth willingly rest, and particularly shew his goodnes in them. Which S. Paul witnesseth in these words:* 1.380 You are the temple of the liuing God as God sayth: Because I wil dwel in them,* 1.381 and walke among them, and be their God And God himself de∣clared it to be so in that famous Temple of Salomon, when after the consecration, as we reade, so soone as the Priests came out of the Sanctuarie, where they had set downe the Arke, a clowd coming downe from heauen, filled the whole house, in so much that the Priests could not stand to doe the office; for as holie Scripture speaketh, The glorie of our Lord had filled the house of our Lord. And Salomon out of his wisdome vnderstood it wel enough; for presently he brake into these words for very ioy; Our Lord hath sayd, that he would dwel in a clowd. Which is the same, which passeth in a soule that hath voluntarily and le••ally consecrated itself to God; for God doth fil our soules also with his pre∣sence, and with his glorie; and not in a clowd, that may hinder vs in our dutie towards him, by the thicknes and obscuritie of it; but rather in a clear light both delighting and helping vs in so great a work.* 1.382 And consequently what∣soeuer belongeth to a consecrated temple, must much more belong to a Reli∣gious soule; to wit, that the Angels dwel the more willingly about it, by reason of the sanctitie of it; that the prayers of such a soule are the more acceptable to God, in regard they come from a holie place; and the goodnes of God inha∣biting in it,* 1.383 must needs fil it with abundance of al kind of blessings, no lesse then the Ar••••e among the Children of Israël; and finally al the thoughts, and actions and endeauours of such a soule, retayning the natural sauour of the roote from which they grow, must needs be the more welcome to God by rea∣son of this consecration, and more gratious in his sight. To conclude, as in the temple of God we offer Sacrifice, as in a place properly ordayned for that pur∣pose; so a Religious soule doth dayly offer to God sacrifices without number,* 1.384 laude and prayse of God, inflamed acts of Charitie, of thanks-giuing of sorrow for our sinnes, a contr••te hart and afflicted spirit, and manie holie desires and pur∣poses, which are the spiritual sacrifices acceptable in the sight of God,* 1.385 which S. Peter wisheth vs alwayes to offer.

Religious people are a continual Sacrifice, in regard of the oblation which they make of themselues. CHAP. XV.

BY that, which hath been sayd, we see how Religious people are truly the Temples of God; now let vs consider in brief, how they are also truly a Sacrifice; for the Sacrifice doubtles is more holie and more excellent then the Temple, seing Temples are not con∣secrated but for Sacrifices.* 1.386 Whereof S. Gregorie speaketh thus: We offer ourselues in Sacrifice to God, when we dedicate our life to his diuine seruice; and applyeth to this purpose that which is commanded in Leuiticus, that the parts of the Victime be cut in peeces, and so burnt by fire; which, as he sayth, is performed, when we offer the works of our life distinguished into seueral vertues And Waldensis,* 1.387 a graue Diuine, doth not only cal it a Sacrifice, but a high and excellent Sacrifice, when a man, as he speaketh, consecrateth al the actions of his mind and bodie euerlastingly to God, by entring into Religion. And certainly, if it be a Sacrifice to offer anie thing that we haue, to God; "what question can there be but that to offer ourselues, is truly a Sacrifice? the essence whereof consisteth in the perfect oblation of ourselues,* 1.388 specially in such an oblation, as is not afterwards in our power to recal. For as in the ancient Sacrifices the Hoste was killed, and could returne to life no more: so the guift which we make, and whereby we dedicate ourselues to God, is im∣mutable, and we cannot clayme or re-assume ourselues againe, or that which we haue once offered.* 1.389 Wherupon S. Augustin discourseth in this manner, and sayth in expresse tearmes:

That a man consecrated and vowe •• to the honour of God, is a Sacrifice, in regard he dyeth to the world that he may liue to God: when also we chastize our bodie by temperance, if we doe it for God, as we ought to doe, to the end not to yeald our members weapons of iniquitie, but weapons of Iustice to God, it is a Sacrifice. If therefore our bodie, which is but as it were a seruant & instrument of our Soule, be a Sacrifice, if the good and vpright vse therof be directed to God; how much rather shal a Soule be a Sacrifice, when it directeth itself to God, to the end that inflamed with the fire of his loue it may destroy in itself the forme and impression of al worldlie con∣cupiscence, and be reformed according to his vnchangeable likenes, subiect vnto him, and so much the more grateful, by how much it partaketh of his beautie'

Al this is of S. Augustin.

2. Whereby we see that the Sacrifice, which we offer of ourselues, is two-fold, to wit, a Sacrifice of our bodie, and a Sacrifice of our soule: and both of them are so wholy directed to God, that they haue no relation at al to our∣selues;

which is to dye to ourselues,* 1.390 and liue to an other. If anie bodie aske: whereis the Priest, & the knife, & the fire, to offer, kill & consume this Sacri∣fice? The Priest is the same with the Hoste and Victime; to wit, the man him∣self. For this oblation consisteth in spirit, and is performed in spirit, and con∣sequently no man's hand but his that offereth himself, can reach this Hoste; according to that which we reade in the Psalme: I wil voluntarily Sacrifice vnto thee.* 1.391 The knife is the hatred of our owne life, which our Sauiour willeth vs to haue, and the fire is no other then that fire, which the same our Lord and Sauiour came to send into the world,* 1.392 and wished, and sought no other, but that it should burne.* 1.393 For this heauenlie fire descending from aboue, when it once takes in our hart, easily consumes our Sacrifice, as it did the Sacrifice of Elias, and the wood,* 1.394 and stones, and the very dust; that is, it directs vs wholy, & whatsoeuer is in vs, be it neuer so earthlie and base, to the seruice of God alone.

3. But because anciently there were manie kinds of Sacrifices, and the greatest of them al was a Holocaust, because in it, not part only, but the whole Hoste was burned to the honour of God, we must vnderstand that the oblation which Religious people make, is a Holocaust, which doth adde no smal beautie and grace to their dignitie.* 1.395 S. Gregorie sayth it in these words:

They that doe the things which pertaine to God so, as not to parte with some things notwithstanding which pertaine to the world, they offer Sacrifice, but not a Holocaust: But they that forsake al things that pertaine to the world, and consume their whole soule in the fire of the loue of God, they are in the sight of God both a Sacrifice and a Ho∣locaust.

4. How could he haue spoken in clearer tearmes,* 1.396 or described a Re∣ligious man in more natural colours? And S. Thomas giueth the same rea∣son why Religion is a Holocaust, to wit, because it giueth al to God; and whosoeuer putteth himself into a Religious state, offereth al things, outward and inward, to the Creatour of al: for we are not only sayd to Sacrifice the things which are within vs, when we offer them to God, but also the things which are without vs,* 1.397 when we forsake them for God; as Dauid, when he cast away the water which he had in his hand, and cast it away for God's sake, he is sayd to haue Sacrificed it to God; the verie de∣priuing himself of it in that manner, being a new kind of fashion of Sa∣crifice.

5. The blessed Apostle S. Paul doth in my iudgement clearely expresse the nature and excellencie of this inward Sacrifice,* 1.398 when he calleth it a li∣uing hoste, holie, pleasing to God, a reasonable seruice; for by calling it reasonable, that is, spiritual, he giueth vs to vnderstand, that not only our bodie but our minde, and reason, and soule is offered; calling it an Hoste, he signi∣fyeth that heer also is a kind of death; adding the word (liuing) he in∣sinuateth that this death doth strangely both take away our life and pre∣serue it;* 1.399 finally he calleth it Holie and pleasing to God, because what∣soeuer is consecrated to God, is holie; and nothing can be more plea∣sing to God, thou a soule that doth willingly and entirely sacrifice itself to

his Diuine Maiestie for his loue.* 1.400 For if those ancient Sacrifices were so accepta∣ble vnto him, that he receaued them willingly in an odour of sweetnes, notwithstanding that in them there was only offered the flesh of a heyfer of three yeares old, or of a red calf or some other such beast; that which is offered in this spiritual Sacrifice being farre more noble and excellent, as being bought with the inestimable price of the most precious bloud of God, the oblation therof to God must needs be also farre more grateful and acceptable. And what is this but the soule of man, which we may truly say is sacrificed in this Holocaust? because, as we haue shewed else-where, it is proper to Re∣ligious people, to dye to themselues and to the whole world, because they leaue themselues and the world, as much as if they were verily dead, and the state, which they vndertake, bringeth vpon them an vndoubted & irreuocable obligation to doe so. Whereupon S. Bernard describing a Religious man, setteth him forth vnto vs not only as a Pilgrim or stranger,* 1.401 because a stranger hath something, though he hath but little; but he likeneth him to a dead man, and a man that is crucifyed: because, saith he,

he is as free from the works of the world as either of them: & it is al-one to him whether he heare one praise him or dis∣praise him, or rather he heareth them not at al, because he is dead; and he ho∣nours, & riches, & pleasures, which the world doth loue, are a crosse vnto him.

6. But that which is most strange in this Sacrifice, togeather with true death we find true life conioyned,* 1.402 as the Apostle insinuateth;

life not hindring death, and death not taking away our life; which as in those other Sacrifices it could not possibly happen, so in this our spiritual Sacrifice it cannot be other∣wise. For if it should bereaue vs altogeather of our life, it would take away our meanes of seruing God; and yet if it were not death, it were not a true Ho∣locaust. Both therefore of necessitie must be conioyned togeather, that, as S. Gregorie speaketh,* 1.403 it be an Hoste, because a man dyes to the world, and yet is liuing, because stil he doth al the good he can. And of this liuing-death, as I may cal it, S. Paul sayth very wel: You are dead, and your life is hidden with Christ in God;* 1.404 to which state, as the same S. Gregorie interpreteth, we arriue, when seuered from the turmoiles of secular desires,* 1.405 forsaking al outward things, we attend only to the inward, to the end that our minde aspiring wholy to the loue of God, may not be touched with trouble of any earthlie thing.

So that we may fitly apply also to this Sacrifice that, which God com∣manded should be obserued in the ancient Holocausts; to wit, that whereas the rest of the Hoste was consumed by fire,* 1.406 the skin was reserued for the Priest. For, as I sayd before, there being in this Sacrifice no other Priest but our selues, nothing at al remaines of the Sacrifice to ourselues but the skin, that is, the outward shape of a bodie,* 1.407 which Religion doth not take away. Al the rest that is inward, is consumed by that Diuine fire, when it is consecrated to God and to the honour of his Diuine Maiestie; and so in this state that is easily performed, which S. Paul sayd of himself, that he liued, to wit, according to the outward shew, but yet that he did not liue, but Christ in him. Al which being in itself cleare. we may deseruedly and truly say, that the whole life of a Religious man is a Holocaust, as wanting neither death, or anie other part or perfection of a Ho∣locaust, & a Holocaust which dureth not for a while, but continually, & day∣ly, lasting as long as our life doth last; which one thing discouers the wonder∣ful

dignitie of a Religious life. For if Abel, or Noë, or Abraham, neuer pleased God more, then when they offered those memorable Sacrifices, which are re∣counted of them; and no man in his whole life-time can doe anie thing better, or more holie, then to offer Sacrifice; which notwithstanding we cannot al∣wayes doe, but seldome, and at certaine times; what shal we worthily think of that state of life, which is a continual Sacrifice, lasting as long as the man himself lasteth and breatheth? And this our Sacrifice is so much the more ex∣cellent then anie of those ancient Sacrifices, in regard that it is not the flesh of rammes and bullocks which is now offered, but our owne flesh, and our owne soule, farre more pretious then anie flesh whatsoeuer.

A Religious State compared with the State of a King. CHAP. XVI.

THIS, which I haue deliuered concerning the dignitie of a Re∣ligious State, being wel considered, is enough to make a man ea∣sily contemne al worldlie preferment in comparison of it, and esteeme not only meaner places of honour farre inferiour vnto it, but euen Princelie dignities and the degree of a King; which in mens iudgement is the highest place, and the top of that, to which humane ambition can aspire. A comparison which might with some colour seeme to fauour of pride and arrogancie, if we should ground it vpon our owne con∣ceit; but so manie worthie and graue Authours vse it, that their name and authoritie must needs carrie it against al that shal oppose. Though if we weigh that which hath been formerly sayd of the dignitie of a Religious life, we may find reason enough to think, that this comparison doth rather diminish then adde to the luster of it. For it is a farre greater thing, to be like to God, and so like as we haue shewed, then to resemble anie earthlie Prince, whose power and Maiestie is little or none at al if we compare it with the power and Maiestie of God.

2. First therefore a Religious State doth resemble the State of a King in a degree,* 1.408 which is common to al iust and holie men, whome venerable Bede calleth great Kings, because they suffer not themselues to be carried downe the streame with euerie inordinate motion, which doth tempt them by con∣senting vnto them, but they know how to command and gouerne them. To which purpose S. Gregorie applyeth that of the Canticles:* 1.409 Three-score be Queenes. For he sayth thus:

What is signified by these Queenes, but the soules of the Saints, which ruling their bodies with discretion, purchase an eternal king∣dome? For there be some in the holie Church, that pul downe their flesh, and punish it for God; they ouercome their passions and vice; they subdue the Di∣uels, as tyrants and vsurpers; they prudently direct al their affections in an or∣derlie course; they preach to others that which they doe themselues; they draw manie out of the iawes of the Diuel, fighting against him with the sword of the Word; what are these Soules but Queenes, who tenderly louing Christ their

King and Spouse, by commixtion of loue, and detestation of lust, bring forth a Princelie of-spring, that is, Faythful people?

S. Gregorie doth not name Reli∣gious people in this place, but by the actions and functions, which are proper to them, he doth shew plainly the thing itself, and the State; specially where he calleth these soules the Spouses of Christ, which title the obligation of their Vow doth giue them, as I haue shewed before.

3. S Iohn Chrysostom handling this argument more at large, doth bring such reasons for it, as cannot be applyed to anie other but a Religious course.

For in the Work which he wrote against the Dispraysers of a Monastical life, addressing his second Booke to the Heathens and Gentils that were igno∣rant of the Ghospel, and of the glorie of the life to come, he layeth downe so pregnant proofes,* 1.410 drawne from that which hapneth in this present life, to demonstrate that the life of a Monck is farre to be preferred before the state of a King, that no man can haue anie colour to doubt of it. For wheras in a King there be two things principally which are most aymed at, to wit, Power and Honour, thus he discourseth of them both: What is in your opinion the greatest signe of Power? Is it not to be able to reuenge himself of al his enemies, and of whosoeuer stands against him; and reward al them that haue been beneficial or dutiful vnto him? And yet ••••u wil not find al this power in a King; For he hath manie enemies, of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he cannot haue his wil; and manie that are louing and benefi∣cial vnto him, whom he is not able to reward. But a Monk hath a greater and a more eminent power then this, which Kings cannot enioy. For if it be an act of greatest power to be reuenged of our enemies, it is a farre m••re excellent thing to find out such a state of life, as no man can hurt, though he would neuer so fayne. For though it be a great matter to be so skilful at one's weapon, as to be able to strike anie man that can strike me; yet it is farre better, and more ••are and excellent, to haue such a bodie, as cannot be hurt by any skil. And yet there is a greater power then this, to wit, not only that a man cannot be hurt, but to be in such a state, that no man can haue a mind to hurt him. For so he is in much more safetie, because of times though a man cannot hurt another, yet if he hate him, this verie hatred doth in no smal measure abridge his happines and contentment. What therefore can be imagined more ra••e and Diuine then this state of life, which no man hath a minde to hurt; and if he had a mind, he could not hurt it? For how can it come into any man's minde to malice or offer iniurie to him, that hath nothing to doe with anie man? For we malice people either out of enuie, or feare, or anger. But this noble and indeed Prince-like man is aboue al these things. For who wil enuie him that laugheth at al things, which others loue and admire? Who wil be angrie with a man that offereth him no wrong? who wil feare a man, of whome he can haue no suspicion? No man therefore certainly wil hurt such a man. Now that he cannot hurt him though he would is also plaine; for he cannot finde wherein to entrap him. For as an eagle soaring on-high cannot be caught in the nets, that are layd for lesser birds; so also a Religious man. For how, or by what occasion can anie man hurt him▪ He hath neither monie nor wealth, that he need seare the losse of it; he hath no countrey, out of which he can be threat∣ned

to be bannished; he aymeth not at glorie so, as to ••eare anie disgrace. One thing you wil say there is, to wit, death: but whosoeuer shal kil him, shal not only not hurt or contristate him, but shal doe him a great pleasure; for he sends him thereby to another life which he desireth with al his hart, and for which he doth al that which he doth. And if we regarde honour, a Monk is in greater honour, then anie secular man. For secular power hath manie that feare it, and neuer a whit fewer that hate it: But euerie bodie doth wil∣lingly and ioyfully reuerence a Religious man. And oftimes it hapneth that people of meane birth, they that haue been children of pesants or trades-men▪ giuing themselues to this kind of Philosophie, haue been so venerable in the eyes of al men, that men of great qualitie haue not been ashamed to goe to their Cottages, and conuerse with them with such signes of affection, as if the verie speaking with them had been a singular fauour and fortune vnto themselues, as in truth it was

Thus discou••seth S. Chrysostome, and much more copiously of this matter.

4. And yet more largely in another H••milie,* 1.411 which he intitles: A Compari∣son between a King and a M••nk. where he handleth this subiect so solidly and clearly, that whosoeuer shal reade it, wil find al that his hart can desire of this matter. We wil only coppie-out a peece of it into this place.

A King (sayth he) ruleth ouer Citties and Prouinces, and manie Nations: A Monck commandeth ouer Anger▪ and Enuie, and Couetousnes, & Lust, and the rest of the diseases of the minde, & hath his thoughts eleuated aboue al humane things. And doubt∣les we haue more reason to account this man a King, then the other; for if the King himself be a slaue to feare and lust, he is not the gouernour of the people, but the things by which himself is gouerned, & whose dictamens he followeth. A King makes warre against barbarous nations for the bounds of his Empire, for wealth, for riches: A Monck fighteth against the Diuels, whose assaul••s be more violent, and their nature more noble, and consequently the victorie more glorious▪ and the intent of this warre is Pietie, and the seruice of God. Behold both their conuersations, and you shal see a Monck conuersing with the Prophets, learning the wisedome of S. Paul, passing from Moyses to Esay, from Esay to S. Iohn, from S. Iohn to some other, and by this meanes becomes like to them, with whome he doth conuerse, as it vsually hapneth. A King passeth al his life-time with them, who speake him fayre to his face, and flat∣ter him for their owne ends, and doe nothing but vant themselues of their owne deeds. A Monck watcheth in the night to speake with God, to haue the companie of the holie Angels, to delight himself in heauenlie things: A man, that is Gouernour ouer people and nations, you shal finde at those times layd along in his bed and snorting, not much differing from a dead man. A King be he as bountiful as he can, that which he giues, is but gold: a Monck obtaynes of God the spirit of Grace, and corporal benefits also, by his prayers; and nothing is more hateful to the Diuels, then the prayers of a Monck, nothing doth terrifye them more;* 1.412 and Kings themselues haue been often const••ayned to haue recourse vnto them, as Achab to Elias, Ezechias to the Prophet Esay.* 1.413

Finally death is terrible to a King; to a Monck it is wel∣come.

A King is alwayes in feare of death, and therefore he hath

souldiers, for the Guarde of his bodie; A Monck doth not only feare no man, but guardes others, yea whole citties, as if he were a rampire vnto them.

Th•••• farre S. Iohn Chrysostome.

* 1.4145. To which for a Conclusion we may adde another consideration of the difference, how they come to their seueral dignities. For Kings are either borne vnto it, and so come to their Kingdome by succession; or they are chosen by voices, which is more glorious of the two; for to be borne to a Kingdome, is fortune, to be chosen, is a signe of Vertue, if so be that people haue regard to vertue in it: Religious people arriue to this great honour, neither by birth nor by humane election or grant, but by the sole wil of God, who chooseth them out from manie others, and vouchsafeth to translate them into his fa∣milie, and register them among his household-seruants. For it is not humane wit, ••r industrie, or the suggestion of anie other man, or natural strength, wherewith we compasse these hard and difficult enterprises, to forsake the world, to ouercome the loue of our parents and kinsfolks, to subiect our wil vnder such a continual yoake, as this is. Nature hath not so much strength, nor ladders so high, nor wings so strong as to carrie it to so high a pitch; but whatsoeuer we doe in this kind, is the worke of God, as our Sauiour telleth not his Ap••stles only,* 1.415 but al, when he sayth: Yo•• haue not chosen me, but I haue chosen you And againe;* 1.416 No man can come vnto me, vnl••sse my Father doe not only cal, or inuite, and put him on, but draw him. How greatly therefo••e are we bound to God, that hath so voluntarily and of his owne accord loued and embraced vs, and made vs partakers of so great a good, without anie desert of ours▪ y••a rather when we did deserue the contrarie, & were wholy vnworthie of it specially considering that he leaues manie others; that we may iustly say with the Prophet:* 1.417 He hath not donn•• so to e••••rie nation; nor manifested h•••• iudgements vnto them. Great therefore is the dignitie of a Religious man, not only in that he is chosen to so high a Vocation, but in that so hi••h a Person hath made choice of him▪ a person, I say, whose iudgement in our case is to be preferred not only before the iudgement of one nation casting a kingdome vpon a man, but before the iudgement of the whole world, and of al the men that are, or euer were, or euer shal be in the world.

6. How great this difference is betwixt a Religious state, and the dignitie of a King,* 1.418 manie Kings and Princes haue testifyed by forsaking their Scepters and Princelie palaces, and stooping to a poore cottage, and a coorse garment, and professing that they found more contentment and farre truer happines in that kind of life, then they euer did in al the honour which the world doth so foolishly admire. And among the rest, we haue a rare example heerof in Sa••tocopius,* 1.419 King of Morauia, in the yeare 900. who hauing been defeated in a battail against the Emperour Arnulphus, forsaking his kingdome be took himself into the Wildernes, where finding certain Moncks in the mountain Sain••••, he put himself into their companie, liued with them some yeares in a Monastical habit vnknown▪ what he was, and gaue himself to much fasting and watching, and other austerities. When he drew towards his end, he called them altogeather, and declared who he was; giuing this glorious testimonie of a Religious course, that hauing had trial both of it, and of the life of a King, he found that without comparison a Religious life was to be preferred.

For heer (sayth he) I haue slept quietly without anie feare at al; heer rootes, and hearbes, and a cup of cold water hath sauoured farre sweeter to me, then al my Princelie daynties did before; for they were continually mingled with much gal and bitternes of care and danger, and consequently this smal time that I haue liued amongst you, hath been to me farre more happie, then al the time I liued floating in pleasures; and haue learned by my owne experi∣ence, that that life compared wi••h this, is rather to be called death.

This was the iudgement of that King at his death.

Of the Power of Iudicature which Religious men shal haue. CHAP. XVII.

AL worldlie command and dignitie endeth with this life; but Religious people haue manie prerogatiues in this life, and shal enioy manie more in the life to come; among which we must reckon, that in the latter day they shal sit with Christ in Iudgement, to giue fauourable sentence vpon them, that shal stand at the right hand, and a terrible sentence vpon them, that shal stand on the left. And to the end we may the better vnderstand the greatnes of this Prerogatiue,* 1.420 we wil consider somewhat of the horrour and terriblenes of that day, of that day, I say, which the Prophet Sophonias descri∣beth in these wordes: The great day of our Lord is at hand; it is at hand, and very swift. The voice of the day of our Lord is bitter; there the strong shal be afflicted. That day, a day of wrath; a day of tribulation and anguish; a day of calamitie and miserie; a day of darkenes and mist; a day of clowds and ••hirl∣winds; a day of the trumpet, and of the sound of the trumpet. In which strayne the Prophet Ioel doth also speak, when terrifyed, as it were, with the presence of that day, he sayth thus: Let al the dwellers of the earth be troubled, because the day of our Lord doth come; because the day of darkenes and mist is at hand; the day of clowds and whirl-winds. For the day of our Lord is great and very terrible, and who wil abide it? S. Gregorie doth ••ightly make a coniecture of the terriblenes of that time, by that which hapned at the entrance of the Passion of our Sauiour, when with one mild answer of his mouth he struck al his armed aduersaries to the ground;

What therfore, sayth S. Gregorie, wil he doe when he shal come to iudge, seing he stonned al his enemies with a word, when he came to be iudged? What Iudgement wil that be, which he wil exercise being Im∣mortal, seing no man could withstand his voyce, when he was yet mortal? who wil be able to abide his wrath, when his verie meeknes was not to be abidden? Wherefore at such a time when al the men of the world shal be apaled, and stand amazed with feare, and sorrow, and expectation of the rigid sentence of such a Iudge, then in that general vexation of al men, to be without feare and trouble, and attend that last and irreuocable decree and sentence with ioy, must needs be an inestimable and excessiue benefit.

* 1.4212. S. Iohn Chrisostom sayth, that Religion affordeth this benefit; for first in this life it filleth a man with al good things; and secondly in the life to come it presenteth vs before the Tribunal of God, ioyful and sporting, when the Princes of the earth, whom before al men adored, shal be seuerely punished for their offences. S. Bernard fitly applyeth to the same effect that, which is sayd in the Psalme:* 1.422 Because he wil deliuer me from the snare of the hunters, and from the bitter word. He sayth, that this snare is that, which the Apostle speaketh of, when he sayth: They that wil be rich, sal into temptation, and into the snare of the Diuel; and that the bitter word, is the last sentence in the day of Iudgement;

And turning his speach to his Brethren, he speaketh thus: You that haue forsaken al, and followed the Sonne of man, who had not where the leane his head, reioyce, and say: He hath deliuered me from the snare of the hunters. Prayse him with al your hart, al your soule, al your strength; and from the verie bottome of your hart giue him thanks, saying: because he hath deliuered me from the snare of the hunters. And that you may know how great this benefit is, and vnderstand the things which are giuen you by god, harken what followeth: And from a bitter word. O man, or rather beast that thou art, didst thou not feare the snare? at least stand in awe of the hammer; From a bitter word;* 1.423 What is this bitter word but: Let the wicked be takes away, that he see not the glorie of God? Go you accursed into eternal fire. But you, my Brethren, you that haue wings, before whose eyes it is in vayne to cast the net, you that haue forsaken the wealth of this world, why should you feare a bitter word, seing you haue been deliuered from the snare?

For to whome shal it be sayd: Go you accursed into euerlasting fire; for I was hungrie, and you gaue me not to eat?

To whome, I say, shal this be spoken, but to them, that had wealth in this world? Are not your harts much reioyced at this word, and filled with spiritual content∣ment? doe you not value your Pouertie farre beyond al worldlie treasure, in regard it is your Pouertie, which freeth you from this bitter word? For how can we think that God wil require at our hands that, which we haue forsaken for his loue?

Al this is of S. Bernard.

3. Wherefore, if this happie course did bring no other commoditie to Religious people, but that at that time, when other men wither away for feare,* 1.424 and expectation of the things, which are to come vpon them, they exalt, because their redemption approacheth; this one thing were benefit sufficient to make a man think al the labour and crosses, which he endureth, very wel bestowed. But there is yet another thing which giueth Religious men farre greater securitie, and addeth also a farre greater dignitie; to wit, that in the power of Iudicature, which Christ hath receaued from his Father,* 1.425 they haue their part and place; and are not to stand at the Barre to be iudged, but to sit vpon the Bench to administer Iustice. Which is so high a prerogatiue, that it could not possibly come into the thought of anie man to be so bold as to hope for it, nor yet scarce to belieue, that such a dignitie should be cast vpon him, but that He, that doth preferre him vnto it, can doe •••• things, and cannot fayle of his promise. What therefore can be more welcome to a Religious man, then to behold the

forme of this assignement,* 1.426 and promise▪ Amen I say vnto you, that you, that haue forsaken al things, and followed me, in the regeneration, when the Sonne of man shals••, you also shal sit vpon twelve Seates iudging the twelue Tribes of Israel. Where naming the twelue Tribes of Israel, he doth not vnderstand only the people of the Iewes; but in a phrase, in which the Scripture is wont to speake, he •• m••r••hendeth al the Kingdome of God, and al the Faithful. And by the word (you shal sit) first he giueth vs to vnderstand the office of a Iudge; second∣ly the securitie, and eminencie of dignitie aboue the rest; and lastly a place of sitting neare vnto Christ our Iudge.

4. And it must not stumble anie man, that he maketh mention only of twelue Seates For as S. Augustin (answering this verie obiection) wel obserueth,* 1.427 there is a mysterie in those words, and by that certain number of Twelue, whatsoeuer other greater number is to be, vnderstood. For if there must be precisely but twelue Seates, and no more, S. Paul, who is the thirteenth Apostle shal not haue where to sit, and consequently shal not be able to iudge; and yet he saith of himself, that he shal iudge, not only men, but Angels.* 1.428 Not only therefore (saith S. Augustin) the twelue Apostles and S. Paul, but as manie as shal iudge, shal haue place in the twelue Seates, by reason of the Vni∣uersalitie, which the word doth signifie. And this which S. Augustin saith, is grounded vpon good reason. For (as the tenure of the promise of our Sa∣uiour doth found) the onlie cause, why this power and glorie was con∣serred vpon the Apostles, was, because they had forsaken al, and followed him: wherefore al they that haue done the like, and forsaken al worldlie wealth, & forgoing the hopes and desires therof haue put themselues into the schoole of Christ, shal haue ri••ht to the like reward & promotion. For, that the Apostles followed Christ when he was present with them, and Religious peo∣ple follow him now he is not present, doth not diminish the value of their faith and seruice, but doth rather encrease it For they had manie motiues therunto, which we haue not, as miracles wrought before their eyes, the sweetnes of his dillie conuersation, and of his doctrine; whereof S. Peter speaking in the name of the rest,* 1.429 sayd: Lord, to whome shal we go? thou hast words of life euerla∣sting.

6. Neither is the merit euer a whit the lesse, by reason that they were imme∣diatly subiect to our Sauiour; we subiect ourselues to another man that beareth his place. For now also they that subiect themselues in this māner, subiect them∣selues to Christ, whome they acknowledge and reuerence in the person of that man; and if we value this busines by the fayth and fidelitie, which is practised in it, perhaps it is the greater act, not only to obey a Prince when he deliue∣reth his owne commands himself, but also to obey his meanest officers and ministers commanding in the Prince his name. Wherefore though doubtles this action was performed by the Apostles with greater vertue and charitie, as hauing the first fruits of the Spirit bestowed vpon them: yet if we regard the fact itself, we doe the same thing that they did, and for the same end, and vpon the like motiues as they did. Insomuch that S. Bernard doth not stick to glorie both for himself,* 1.430 & vs, that we al haue made prosession of an Apostolical life, al of vs are inrolled in the same Apostolical course. Which is not to be thou••ht to be spoken of the eminent sanctities which they descrued to rec••••ne for themselues

and for the whole world, as the Psalmist doth intimate in these words: Let the ••••••s receaue peace for the people, and the ••••ll••ks iustice: but of the profession, which S. Peter made in behalf of them al saying, Behold we haue forsaken al, and follow∣ed thee. Whereunto we may adde, that as the Redemption of Man-kind was the proper worke of our Sauiour CHRIST,* 1.431 in which respect he is called the Father of the world to come; so it was a prerogatiue properly belonging to himself to be Iudge of the world,* 1.432 because the Father iudgeth no man, but hath gi∣uen al Iudicature to his Sonne. And consequently the same our Lord hauing been pleased to associate the Apostles to himself in so great an Office, as was the Re∣demption of Man, and not howsoeuer, but by meanes of the same pouertie, and humilitie, and sufferings, as himself did vndergoe in this life; it belonged to the same his goodnes, and also in a kind of equitie it was reason that he should communicate his honour with them, that did share in his labours.

6. Now certainly Religious people haue their share in labouring with Christ, and haue alwayes had; for as we shal shew more at large hereafter, there haue been at al times some Religious men that haue assisted the Church of God very much,* 1.433 euen among the Orders of Monks, and much more in later Ages, since by special instinct of God Religious Professions haue been directed as wel to the help of others, as for their owne saluation. And though there be in the Church abundance of other Work-men also, who instruct the people, and assist them with no smal paines and labours, for which they are highly to be commended; yet set Religious people aside, and where shal we find that Euan∣gelical Pouertie, which is so perspicuous by possessing nothing, as they may worthily say:* 1.434 Behold, we haue forsaken al things. S. Thomas deliuereth, that the Order of Bishops how soeuer it was most certainly instituted by our Sauiour Christ, yet it was not instituted with that circumstance of possessions, and wealth, and external splendour; but rather he gaue them instructions how they should be poore,* 1.435 when he prescribed that rule: Carrie not a satchel nor a scrip, and the like, but riches were afterward admitted-of by the indulgence and dispensation of the Church, times so requiring. And this which S. Thomas sayth of Bishops, is true of al the rest of the Clergie that minister in the Church. Whereby it is apparent, that this rare vertue, to which our Lord hath promised so great a preheminence in the latter day of Iudgement, is not only truly found in Religious men, but in a manner is only in them, because they alone haue forsaken al things.

7. But because this honour is so great, and this promise so honourable, that the streightnes of our hart can hardly conceaue it should be so; let vs settle this distrust by the authoritie of holie Fathers, who vnderstanding this saying of our Sauiour in the right sense, haue vpon this title taken occasion to en∣large themselues much in commendation of Religion.* 1.436 S. Gregorie Nazianzen in his Oration against Iulian the Apostat, among other praises of a Mona∣stical life, reckoneth also, that they are to sit vpon Thrones to iudge. S. Hierome in a certain Epistle of his sayth:* 1.437 It is proper to the Apostles and Christians to offer themselues to God, and, casting the mites of their pouertie with the widdow into the Treasurie of the Church, to deliuer al the substance which they had to our Lord;* 1.438 and so deserue to heare: You shal sit vpon thrones iudging the twelue Tribes of Israel. S. Augustin (an approued and sure Authour)

sayth the same:

They that haue not followed (sayth he) that great and perfect Counsel of Perfection, of Selling al, and yet keeping themselues free from damnable crimes,* 1.439 haue fed our Sauiour in those that are hungrie shal not sit on-high to iudge with Christ, but shal stand at his right hand to be iudged in his mercie.

And contrarie-wise S. Augustin held it so certain, that Religious people are to sit in Iudgement with our Sauiour, that in the same Epistle he reprehendeth some of them that were ouer-haughtie in bragging ouer the lower and more imperfect state of Secular people, in these words:

Let them walke the way of Perfection, selling al, and giuing it out of charitie to the poore.* 1.440 But if they be truly the Poore of Christ, and gather not for them∣selues, but for Christ, why doe they punish the weaker of our Sauiour before they haue receaued their seates of Iudicature? For if they are to be such, as to whome our Lord speaketh, when he sayth: You shal sit vpon twelue Seates, iud∣ging the twelue Tribes of Israël; and of whome the Apostle sayth: Doe you not know that we shal iudge the Angels?* 1.441 let them prepare to receaue into the eternal man∣sions rather vertuous then wicked rich men, by whome they were made friends by the Mammon of iniquitie.

8. S. Gregorie doth often deliuer this doctrine.* 1.442 For in the latter end of his tenth Booke of Morals he discourseth thus:

Then the wicked shal see with their eyes, that they, who haue forsaken al earthlie things, shal be established in a heauenlie power; of which Truth itself speaketh to the Elect: You that haue followed me, in the regeneration when the Sonne of man shal sit in his Ma••••stie, you also shal sit vpon twelue Seates, iudging the twelue Tribes of Israël. Neither must we think, that heauenlie Bench and Court shal haue but twelue Iudges to sit, but by the number of Twelue, the whole generalitie is expressed; for who∣soeuer spurred-on with the loue of God, shal leaue his possessions, shal doubt∣les obtaine a high seate of Iudicature, coming as a Iudge togeather with the Iudge; because in consideration of that Iudgement he punished himself heer by voluntarie Pouertie. Wherupon Salomon sayth of the Spouse of the holie Church:* 1.443 Her husband is honourable in the gates, when he shal sit with the Senatours of the earth. And the Prophet Esay: Our Lord shal come to iudge with the Elders of his people.* 1.444 In which respect Truth doth tearme the sayd Elders not seruants, but friends: Now I wil not cal you seruants, but friends; such friends as the Psalmist beholding sayth of them:* 1.445 To me thy friends, ó God, are very much honoured; and beholding the noblenes of their hart, and how they spurned at the glorie of the world,* 1.446 he presently added: Their principalitie is very much strengthned. And because we should not think them few that arriue to this heighth of Perfection, he sayth further: I wil number them, and they shalbe multiplied about the sands of the sea. And in an other place, speaking of a kinde of foolishnes, which is truly wisdome, he sayth thus: They that perfectly follow this foolishnes, deserue to heare from the mouth of Wisdome; You that haue followed me, shal sit vpon twelue Seates.* 1.447 Behold, they that forsake temporal things, purchase glorie of eternal power. What therefore in this world is accounted more foolish then to f••rgoe that which is one's owne? and what is more honourable in Eternitie then to come as Iudges with God?

9. And in the same Worke he handleth the same subiect yet more copiously, where distinguishing the men that shal appeare in the latter day of Iudgement

into foure ranks,* 1.448 he sayth: Some shal come to be iudged & perish, as wicked Christians; others shal not be iudged and also perish, as Infidels, who sin∣ning without law, shal perish without law; others shalbe iudged and raigne for euer, as good and faithful people; of the fourth kind of people, that shal not be iudged and yet raigne for euer, he writeth in this manner:

They that by per∣fection of vertue goe beyond the precepts of the Law;* 1.449 they that are not con∣tent only to fulfil that which the Law of God commandeth, but through a more eleuated desire striue to performe more then the general Precepts doe require of them; they to whome our Lord sayth; You that haue forsak••n al, and followed me, when the Sonne of man shal sit in the seate of his Maiestie, you also shal sit vpon twelue Thrones, iudging the twelue Tribes of Israel; These in the latter Iudge∣ment are not iudged and doe raigne, because they come as Iudges also with their Creatour. For leauing al things, they fulfilled more out of a willing minde, then they had heard generally commanded. For that which was sayd to the yong-man;* 1.450 Goe and sel al that which then hast, and giue it to the peere; and thou shalt haue a treasure in heauen; and come and follow me, was by special aduise spoken to a few more perfect, not generally to al; for if it had been a general command binding al, it were a sinne to possesse anie thing in this world; but it is one thing which holie Scripture commandeth al in general, and an other thing which is specially required of the perfect; and therefore with reason they are not subiect to the general Iudgement, who in their life haue ••one beyond the general Precepts. For as they are not iudge and yet 〈◊〉〈◊〉, who by perswasion of Infidelitie contemne the Law; so they are not iudged and yet raigne, who by perswasion of Pietie haue profited be∣yond the general commandments of the Diuine Law.

* 1.45110. Venerable Bede (an approued and learned Authour) is not to be omitted. He discoursing of this promise of our Sauiour in S. Matthew, of which I haue often spoken, sayth in this manner:

A iust reward; that they, who for Christ contemned heer the glorie of humane preferment, should there, glo∣rifyed by Christ, sit as Iudges in special commission with him. And let no man think, that only the twelue Apostles shal then be Iudges, because, after the fal of Iudas, S. Matthias was chosen in his roome; as there be not only twelue Tribes to be iudged: for els the Tribe of Leui, which is the thir∣teenth, should scape vniudged; and S. Paul, who is the thirteenth Apostle, should be depriued of his place of Indicature; whereas he sayth: Doe you not know that we shal iudge the Angels? For we must know that al they, that according to the example of the Apostles, haue left al they had, and fol∣lowed Christ, shal come with him as Iudges, as al man-kind is to be iudged. For because by the number of Twelue in holie Scripture the ge∣neralitie is often signifyed, therefore by the twelue Seates of the Apostles the generalitie of al them that shal iudge, and by the twelue Tribes of Israël the generalitie of them that shalbe iudged, is expressed vnto vs.

11. The testimonie of S. Thomas in this matter (He being the chief of the Diuines) must needs sway much.* 1.452 He therefore is so confident, that this power of Iudicature is promised to Euangelical Pouertie, that vpon the eminencie of this reward he groundeth an argument to proue, how excellent a thing Pouertie itself must needes be, and moreouer teacheth vpon the

same ground, that Secular people ought to bestow their almes rather vpon Religious people, then vpon anie others, to the end they may comply with the commandment of our Sauiour;* 1.453 because Religious people haue power to receaue them into the eternal Mansions. For (sayth he) they shal be iud••es with Christ. S. Antoninus (another great Diuine) is of the same opinion, and confirmeth it moreouer with that saying out of Iob:* 1.454 He giueth iudgement to the poore.* 1.455 To which sentence S. Gregorie addeth this reason, because (sayth he)

the more contemptible they were to the world through their great humi∣litie, they grew then to a higher preeminence of power, receauing Seates of Iudicature. We may adde S. Anselme,* 1.456 who in one of his Epistles writeth thus: Our Lord counseleth those, that wil be perfect, to leaue al and follow him; he also promiseth those that do leaue al and follow him, that they shal sit in Iudgement, iudging the twelue Tribes of Israël. But S. Bernard doth both most eloquently and sweetly after his wonted manner apply that of the Psalme to Religious men:* 1.457

Their Iudges are swallowed-vp neare vnto the rock; deliuering that they shal not only be Iudges with the Rock,* 1.458 which is Christ, but so vpright, that laying aside al feeling of compassion, they wil be at that time mindful only of Iustice, according to the example of the Soueraigne Iudge himself, swallowed-vp and wholy turned into a disposition of doing Iustice, and imitating therin the hardnes of the Rock, to whome they are so nearely linked; hauing forsaken al other things, meerly to follow and to cleaue vnto it.

For this (sayth he) is that which, when Peter asked what they should haue, the Rock itself made answer: You also shal sit iudging the twelue Tribes of Israel. O fauour of familiaritie! O heighth of honour! O priuiledge of confidence! O prerogatiue of perfect securitie! For what can be more dreadful, what can be imagined fuller of great anxietie and excessiue care, then to stand before that terrible Tribunal to be iudged, expecting the stil-vncertain sentence so rigourous a Iudge? As some mens sinnes, so doubtles some mens good endeauours are so apparent before the Iudgement, that as they way∣ting for their sentence sink instantly into hel by the weight of their crimes, so these contrarywise mount vp without anie contradiction, in ful libertie of spirit, to the seates prepared for them. Happie is the voluntarie Pouertie, my Lord IESV, of those that haue forsaken al, & followed thee. Doubtles a most blessed Pouertie, which makes men so secure, yea so glorious in that so hi∣deous a dissolution of the elements, so feareful a trial of deserts, so doubtful an expectation of Iudgement.

1••. And els-where the same Saint discoursing at large & extolling the greatnes of this dignitie and preferment,* 1.459 giueth also the reason, why Religious people aboue al others are rewarded in this kind. For wheras (sayth he) Pouertie hath two incommodities,* 1.460 which accompanie it, to wit, contemptiblenes, and toyle and labour, God hath with reason appointed, that in regard of their former la∣bours, they should sit; in regard of the contempt they suffered, they should be endued with so great a power, that if a man were greedie of pleasure, he might thirst after that torrent of pleasures; if he were desirous of glorie, he might rather ayme at this true and incomparable glorie; and therefore quiet without pertu••bation is promised vs in the Seates, & preheminēce of honour in the power of Iudicature.

Vpon which ground he enlargeth himself in declaring

the glorie of this promise, and how much this dignitie doth ouertop al worldlie titles and preferments. What secular honour (sayth he) can be thought of, which is not base in comparison of so great a preheminence? For they are to sit Iudges with Christ, not vpon one cittie, or people▪ or countrey, but vpon the whole world. They shal not only iudge men, but Angels. They, I say, who disdaining and blowing aside the vapour of this present glorie, which shineth for a while, haue preferred the reproach of Christ before al titles of honour. Be not afrayd, you little flock, because it hath pleased your ••••ther to giue you a Kingdome. The decree is made, which shal not be voyd; the sentence stands vnchangeable; finally your Lord hath sworne, and it wil not repent him. Amen I say vnto you, that you that haue followed me, in the regeneration, when the Sonne of man shal sit in the Seate of his Maiestie, you also shal sit Iudges. What can be more glorious? Let the Sonne•• of Pride sit now with their King that hath chosen the side of the North; Let them iudge, and be preiudicate. O vnhappie ambition, which knoweth not how to aspire to great things, but seeketh to rise by trifles, and faileth of that which is great indeed! They loue the first seates, which as vntimelie figs wil quickly fal. They therefore that loue the first seates, let them beware they faile not of the second; and they that choose to sit at board in the first place, begin not with shame to take the last. You shal sit, sayth he, vpon twelue seates, iudging the twelue Tribes of Israel. These seates he foresaw, who sayd of the heauenlie Cittie: There sate Seates in Iudgement, Seates vpon the house of Dauid. There doubt∣les, not heere. For this is the special glorie of the Perfect, to be eminent euen among the faithful, and to haue precedencie of Iudiciarie power euen before others that shal be saued, that according to the Psalme, they may sit vpon the house of Dauid.

What miserie is it, that man should be so negligent as to sleepe when he heareth the word of so great a promise?

12. Thus doth S. Bernard admire this prerogatiue of a Religious state; and withal that men being so greedie of vaine and fickle and transitorie honour in this world, seeke not after this so true and so high a preferment, as to be com∣panions with Christ himself the Sonne of God, in so noble and glorious an action, in the view not of one Cittie or Kingdome, but absolutly of al men that are, or euer were, or shalbe, and of innumerable multitudes of Angels.

Of the glorie, which Religious people shal haue in Heauen. CHAP. XVIII.

THOVGH the glorie of this action, of which I haue discour∣sed in the precedent Chapter, be so great, that al Princelie power and glorie layd togeather, is no way••s to be compared with it; yet the glorie, which Religious people shal enioy in heauen, i•• farre aboue it. For their Iudiciarie power is but temporal: their glorie in heauen is eternal; the first is but an honour done outwardly vnto them, this second is inwardly fixed in their soule; which we shal the better vnder∣stand,

if we consider,* 1.461 that (as Fayth doth teach vs) though the blisse euer∣lasting of the Saints, be one thing in al of them, consisting in the clear sight of that Good, in which al good is comprehended, to wit, the vnchangeable Essence of our GOD; yet there be diuers & very different degrees of seing it; wherof S. Gregorie speaketh in these words:* 1.462 Because in this life ther is difference in our works, doubtles in the other ther wil be distinctiō of honours; & as one is aboue another in merit, so one shal surpasse another in the reward.

Where∣fore seing the inequalitie there, proceedeth meerly out of the inequalitie heer of merit in this life, if we shew that the course of a Religious life in this world doth furnish them with farre more commoditie and plentie of merit heer, it wil be easily granted, that their reward there, must needs be farre more plentiful also in the world to come.

2. First therefore,* 1.463 this State doth afford farre more abundant occasion of exer∣cising vertue, then a Secular life, and of vertues more singular and more he∣roical. For in the world, a bodie seldome hapneth vpon occasion of doing good, vnlesse he be careful in seeking it: Religious people haue daylie occasions at home; for both their Institute, and their Rules, and their Su••eriours, and their Companions, al and euerie thing that is in house with them, ministreth them occasions of vertuous actions, and indeed thrusteth them vpon them, and requireth them at their hands. And as the work of a carpenter or a smith, is wholy in wood or iron, because his art is in handling those materials; so the works of Religious people is Vertue, and they are al day employed in the in∣ward and outward exercises therof. Wherin not only our owne desire and deuout endeauour doth help vs, but a kind of necessitie of doing wel, hauing tyed ourselues to certain Rules & orders, which compel vs in a manner s••me∣times to pray, sometimes to reade, sometimes to employ ourselues in humble offices, sometimes in charitable actions towards our neighbour; so that, though we would not, we cannot but doe wel. And euerie day and euerie hower being ful of these vertuous practises, it is easie to see to what a summe the reckoning wil at last amount. To which purpose it is recorded that Aegid••us,* 1.464 S. Francis his Companion, was wont to say:

If the riuer of Tyber should haue stood, and the water been stopt, which was wont to haue his course; how would it haue been swollen by this time? Not only so manie yeares as it hath already had his course, but a few dayes would be enough to make it of a Riuer a great Sea. The like we may say of Religious people continuing dayly and howerly in vertuous actions, and day and night labouring to multiplie them; what an ••ncrease of glorie, & heape of crownes must they needs gather togeather at last?

3. Pouertie moreouer is of itself a liuing fountaine of merit,* 1.465 by reason of the daylie troubles and incommodities which it bringeth, the suffering wherof doth infinitly enrich a Soule. And Obedience is no lesse▪ the least and meanest kind of works being by meanes therof oftimes more pleasing to God, then faire greater works vndertaken of our owne accord and fancie. A Religious life therefore consisting wholy vpon Obedience; and al kind of actions, great & little, being ruled by it, our verie diet and sleepe and rec••••ation and such like, who wil be able to say, to what an infinit treasure it wil come at length? Palladius (a Monk,* 1.466 and Register of the actions of ancient Monks which him∣self had seen) writeth of himself, that being troubled in mind as thinking with

himself that he lead but an idle and vnprofitable life in his chamber, he went to that famous Macarius of Alexandria, who (as he was ful of the spirit of God) vnderstanding his grief, sayd vnto him: Answer thy thoughts, that for our Sauiour Christ thou keepest the foure walles of thy Cel; giuing vs to vnderstād, how meritorious the works of a Religious man are, when vacancie from al work for the loue of God and for the performance of his wil, is not to be accounted idle or vnfruit∣ful.

4 What shal we say of the humilitie of a Religious course, which doubt∣les is a great glorie vnto it?* 1.467 For the saying and promise of our Sauiour must necessarily be fulfilled: Euerie one that humbleth himself, shal be exalted. Which if it be to be vnderstood also of them that inwardly in their mind are humble, and think meanly of themselues,* 1.468 much more doth it agree to them that are not only humble in mind, but haue chosen an humble manner of liuing farre from al pride and oftentation, perseuering moreouer in perpetual pouertie, which in mens opinon is the basest and most disdaigneful state of al. It is reason there∣fore they should be exalted in heauen, seing they haue so much abased them∣selues heer on earth.

* 1.4695. Our Sauiour doth also put Religious people in good hope by this other saying: He that ministreth to me, let him follow me, & where I am, there let him be that is my minister. Now among the seruants of Christ there be manie differences. For as Kings and Princes haue manie subiects, and al of them owe some dutie to him, but the name of the King's seruant doth properly follow them, that liue in household with the King,* 1.470 and are readie at a cal and at a beck, and haue no other busines but the King's: So al Christians may be called, and are, the seruants of Christ, but they that haue left their owne houses and possessions, and betaken themselues into the house of God, to attend wholy and only to his affaires, may most truly and most properly challenge this Prerogatiue.

6. Wherof Religious people reape another commoditie (which I haue spo∣ken of more at large before) to wit, that seing the busines which they han∣dle is God's, and not their owne; by occasion of the state itself in which they are, they may farre more easily and the more effectually direct al their actions to God and good ends, in which the greatest part of our merit doth consist. For vnlesse a man wil be wilfully euil, and defraud his maister of his seruice, as a naughtie seruant doth him of his money, and employ it in other vses; most of the works which a Religious man doth, of themselues doe tend to God; others may be easily guided to the same end, with smal industrie and labour; which works God accepteth, acknowledging them to be done for his sake, and re••ards them with liberal reward; and being multiplyed in that manner as they are, they must needs bring a man an infinit treasure and masse of glorie in the l••fe to come.* 1.471 Of which glorie S. Basil discoursing, bringeth God, as it were, speaking to the voluntarie Eunuchs, such as haue bound themselues to liue chastly Vow, and sayth thus:

For a mortal name, I wil giue them the name of immortal Angels, which shal not be taken from them, they shal haue hea∣uen and the choycest part ther ••f to dwel in,* 1.472 to wit, my owne house, and dwelling within my walles, they shal not only partake of the nature of the Ange••s, and of the glorie of their perpetual succession, being themselues suffi∣ciently able to found a succession of their owne in the life eternal; but they

shal haue an honourable and an eminent place among the Angels, and a name which shal neuer saile in regard of the splendour of their rare vertue.

7. S Iohn Chrysostom speaking of the same glorie in his third Booke against the Dispraysers of a Monastical life sayth in this manner:* 1.473 What then shal we say? may not he be saued that hath a wife and house-hold?

First there is not only one way and meanes to be saued, but manie di••••erent wayes, which our Sauiour giuing vs to vnderstand sayth, that there be manie mansions in the house of his Father;* 1.474 and S. Paul when he telleth vs, that one is the brightnes of the sunne, another of the moone, another of the starres: that is, others shal shine like the sunne, others like the moone, and others like the starres. Consider therefore wel what steps of honour and merit thou must leaue aboue thee, if thou stoop from the greatnes of the Sunne to the least and lowest starre. Thus speakes S. Iohn Chrysostom, adding moreouer that men deale their busines in this kind but vnworthily and with great disaduantage to themselues; in regard that if they ayme at a place at Court, they wil endeauour to get the best and most honourable, and be as neare and as deare to the King as they can possibly be: but it being in their choice to be Courtiers and Souldiers of heauen, as he speaketh, they are neuer a whit s••rrie nor grieued, if they light vpon the last place, and be the very hindmost of al. And he repeateth the same in the latter end of his sayd Booke, and endeauours to beate it into vs, saying that though we were certain of our saluation, yet we should striue for the first place in heauen; as in al matches that are made, it is a shame to come behind. But Se∣cular people, sayth he, shal stand in the last place, supposing they be able to breake through the rubbs which the World doth lay in their way, which notwithstanding is very hard & difficult. Can there be therfore a foolisher thing then to choose to remayne behind with the last, when a man may step-vp so high, as to looke the very Angels in the face?

Thus speakes S. Iohn Chry••••stom in that place. For in his other Treatise, where he compareth a Monk with a King,* 1.475 he sayth further thus:

After this life we shal behold a Monck taken-vp glorious in the sight of al in the cloudes, to meete Christ in the ayre, resembling his Captaine, the beginner of this soueraigne kind of life, and Authour of al Vertue. But a King though he haue gouerned his Kingdome with iustice and inte••ritie, shal notwithstanding haue a l••sse degree of saluation, and lesse glorie. And if he haue not behaued himself wel, who can expresse the miserie which you shal see him endure, scorched with that fire, flead with those whips, and punished with th••se torments, which neither tongue can declare, nor can in themselues be abidden.

8. And we may adde one thing more, which manie learned men doe auou••••; to wit,* 1.476 that Religious people shal not only enioy an eminent place in the glorie which is common to al, as we haue declared, but shal haue a particular Laurel or garland (as Diuines doe tearme it, and define it to be an Accidental ioy added ouer and aboue the Essential reward) manifestly to be seen in some particular glorie of their bodies, in testimonie of some noble and heroical act atchieued. As we see in common-wealths that are wel gouerned; al are kept to their dutie by certain general rewards and punishments; besides which general rewards for that which is good, there be containe pe∣culiar rewards for heroical actions: as if a souldier had done anie special

exployt, besides his ordinarie pension, he was anciently rewarded with a kind of Coronet, or Laurel, or triumphant Chariot, according vnto the enterprize in which he had shewed his valour; So in heauen, besides the essential reward due to al good deeds, there be certain honours, as we may cal them, & particular recompences for Virgins, and Martyrs, & Doctours, as hauing very eminently shewed their valour, & gone away with singular victories ouer the Flesh, & the Diuel, and Death itself. If therefore these three haue their particular Coronets, or garlands; why may we not say, that Religious people shal haue one also particular to themselues? seing they embrace perpetual Chastitie, as Virgins; and cease not to doe great good to their Neighbour, as Doctours; and in regard of the manie crosses they endure, stand in so neare a degree to Martyrs, as I haue shewed; and though there were nothing els, haue vtterly set the World and al worldlie things at naught, and liued perpetually in so great a contempt of it, as we see; which no man can denye but that it is one of the noblest and most heroical actions, which a man can performe in this life, and consequently may worthily deserue a singular reward, and, as the holie Scripture speaketh, euerie one of them receaue from the hand of God a Kingdome of glorie,* 1.477 and a dreame of beautie.

9. The greatnes of this glorie, which attends vpon Religious people, hath been diuers times shewed to manie, and once in particular to a certain Nouice of S. Francis his Order, and made great impression in him as in reason it might. The burthen of Religion seeming vnto him very heauie, and being moreouer sorely tempted by the Diuel,* 1.478 he was vpon the point of yealding, and began to harbour vnworthie thoughts of returning to the world, but was cured by this heauenlie remedie. One night as he passed through the Church, bowghing his head and his bodie to adore the Blessed Sacrament as he went by it, in the verie instant he was in a Rapt, and had this Vision: He saw a long ranck of people passing by him clad al alike; their garments were white; their faces, & their hands, and feete, did shine like the sunne; they went (as he thought) in great haste and ioy to meete, and embrace, and entertayne a certain guest, that was newly come among them. And being much astonished with this sight, he asked one of the companie, what al this was; and it was answered him, that they were Franciscan-Friars that were going to accompanie a certain man of their Order into Heauen, that was newly departed; that they themselues lined al of them in Heauen in great glorie & happines; and that the honour of that white garment was particularly granted them in lieu of the Habit of Religion, which they did weare on earth; the glorie of their bodies for the incommodities, which they had suffered in it; of which glorie he should be partaker, if he remained firme and constant in the course he had begun; which afterwards he easily effected, being so encouraged with this Vision, that he neuer after had anie wandring thoughts at al.

10. Which Vision doth put vs moreouer in mind of another happines and particular ioy, which Religious people shal haue in heauen, by the con∣course and meeting of manie of the same Order and Religion togeather. For (as the tro••p, which this man saw, doth giue vs to vnderstand) we must think, that in heauen there is a seueral distinct place for euerie Religious Order to be in, to which place al that are of the same Order doe presently repayre,

so soone as they arriue in heauen, which cannot but giue euerie one new mat∣ter of glorie and gladnes. For if in this world it be so ioyful a thing to meete with our Bretheren, & conuerse with those of our owne Order and Institute, in regard of the loue which is betwixt vs; there can be no doubt, but that in heauen this ioy wil be farre greater, where our loue shal be more seruent, and al perfections of Nature and Grace more eminent, without anie mixture of vice or imperfection; and withal most apparent to euerie one, beholding them before our eyes as in a cristal-glasse; which as they wil excessiuely encrease our loue, so also the eternal sweetnes of our louing conuersation. Wherefore it is certain, that to be continually in that Blessed companie, and ourselues to be a blessed part therof, must needs be an infinit happines, far••e greater then we heer can either conceaue or belieue.

Of the Antiquitie of Religious courses; and first how they were prefigured in the Old Law. CHAP. XIX.

WE are now to discourse of another kind of dignitie belonging to a Religious state. For that, of which we haue hitherto spo∣ken, though doubtlesse it be the chiefest and most to be estee∣med, as being founded vpon the plentie and rarenes of the Ver∣tues which concurre in it, the coniunction and similitude with God, and the rewards and honour, which in the life to come it expecteth; yet it is partly spiritual, and concealed within vs; partly also not present, but long to come heerafter; and consequently the glorie and splendour therof lyeth open only to the eyes of God, and to those, that hauing their soules enlightned with his soueraigne light, are withal enabled to make a true estimate of these spiritual things; who certainly are but few, and in a manner none in compari∣son of the rest;* 1.479 for (as the Wise-man sayth) of fooles, the number is infinit. Where∣fore to the end that so rare and so excellent a thing should not be hidden from the most part of men, God hath enriched it with other graces and ornaments, so playne and conspicuous to be seen of al that the rudest sort cannot be igno∣rant of them.* 1.480 No man, sayth our Lord, doth light a candle and put it vnder a bu••hel, but vpon the candlestick, that it may giue light to al that be in the house. And that which he sayd, he did, for he hath not placed this light of Religion in dennes & caues of the earth, but in the publick view of the world, into which he brought it, to enlighten the darknes therof; and hath bestowed such high fa∣uours vpon it, that it doth not only march side by side with the Nobilitie of the world, but goes farre before it, euen for the things which the world doth most of al esteeme and prize. For wherefore is it that Families, and Citties, and whatsoeuer Companies or Corporations, are esteemed honourable in the eyes of men, but for the antiquitie of their standing or descent, the number and worth of their subiects, their noble acts atchieued, and deriued to the notice

of others by common fame, and such like other things, which, as I sayd, are in the world accounted glorious? Of al which a Religious state is so abun∣dantly furnished that humane Pride hath not wherof to extol and beast itself, nor anie thing indeed, which can be comparable to this true and so∣lid Glorie. Wherfore we wil bestow some leaues in discoursing of these or∣naments; and first we wil speake of the Antiquitie of Religion. For though so rare an excellencie of eminent vertue was to be reserued to the times of the Ghospel,* 1.481 and for the Sonne of God himself to bring downe from heauen, those former Ages (which the Apostle compareth to the childhood of the world, because the Law brought nothing to perfection) not being capa∣ble of so much spiritual perfection,* 1.482 so rare vertue, I say, being to be reserued to the fulnes of times, and grace bestowed vpon vs by CHRIST IESVS our Sauiour, yet it is no smal honour and glorie for it, that it is so plainly and so expresly prefigured in the Old Law.

* 1.4832. First ••lias was a liuelie patterne of this course, liuing without wife, or children, or familie, a chast and sin••le li••e, and continuing in it, in that pouer∣tie, that his garment is expressed to haue been a belt of leather,* 1.484 and that he re∣ceaued his sustenance in a manner of almes,* 1.485 sometimes by a widdow, someti∣mes by meanes of a crow.* 1.486 Eliz••us was one of his chief disciples, and resem∣bled him most in the course of life which he had liued;* 1.487 and being inuited by him to this forme of Perfection, he presently forsooke his father's lands and cattle which he was following, yea his parents, and house-hold, giuing Re∣ligious people so long-before a rare example, how couragiously they are to forsake al these things for the loue of CHRIST.

* 1.4883. The Sonnes, as they called them, of the Prophets, were men that vn∣der the conduct and discipline of these two, which I haue named, did professe and follow a more perfect kind of life then others in those dayes. For the mi∣racles which Elizeus is recorded to haue wrought at their request, in Healing of the waters, and in Sweetning the bitternesse of the pot, and in Multiplying the bread which was to serue them al, doth sufficiently testifie, that they were se∣parated from the rest of the Children of Israel, and liued in Communitie to∣geather. And we may gather that they liued a single life, because we doe not had anie mētion of anie wife or children which they had, and indeed with them they could not haue liued in common. Finally it appeareth sufficiently that they liued in Obedience;* 1.489 because as Elizeus returned from beholding the taking vp of Elias into the ayre, they al meeting him, ••el downe on their faces, and ado∣red him as we find in holie Scripture; as it were, professing by this outward si∣gne of reuerence, that what Obedience they yealded before to Elias, the same they were readie to yeald to him. Wherupon S. Hierome doth with reason stile al those,* 1.490 which I haue named, Monks of the old Testament; & in another place reckoning himself among them, he sayth thus: Our beginner was Elias, Elezius was ours, our leaders were the Sonnes of the Prophets. And Isido••••e in his Booke of Ecclesiastical Offices sayth the same thing, almost in the selfsame words; and calleth Elias, and Elizeus, and the rest of the Prophets, Authours of Monks▪ with whome we may ranck Cassian saying,* 1.491 that the beginnings of Monastical profession were founded by them.

* 1.4924. But none in the Old Law doe more neare and more playnly resemble Re∣ligious people, then the Nazareans; and al the whole Ceremonie which was

vsed about them.* 1.493 For which reason S. Gregorie Nazianzen in the Oration which he made in the prayse of S. Basil, doth cal al Religious, our Nazareans. And S. Thomas deliuereth, that the Nazareans, which were wont in the Old Law to be sanctified, did signifie those that aspire to the heighth of al Perfection; and doth learnedly conclude therupon, that a Vow is necessarie to a slate of Perfection. They did therefore much resemble our kinds of Institute, in regard they were consecrated and sanctified to God, as we; and wholy dedica∣ted themselues to the seruice of God,* 1.494 obliging themselues therunto by Vow. But we goe farre beyond them; because they most commonly stood not obli∣ged for their whole life, but for some certain time, longer or shorter as they thought good; Our obligation is perpetual; They abstained from some certain things only; we wholy forsake al worldlie things. But the lawes, & ceremonies prescribed by God concerning them, representing in figure diuers Religious practices, doe most apparantly lay before vs, both the likenes and the differēce, which is betwixt them and vs; and by the shaddow of those carnal things, we may easily discouer the perfection of this spiritual state.

5. First therefore,* 1.495 they are most strictly obseruant in abstayning from wine, & sider, & whatsoeuer lickour that might make them drunk. S. Hierome taketh wine to be whatsoeuer may inueigle our vnderstanding; to wit, the loue of anie earthlie thing For as no man loueth drunkennes in itself, but the wine; which when he taketh ouer-largely maketh him drunk; & the pleasantnes of it to our taste, doth draw vs on to take largely of it; so there is no bodie that wil willingly be inueigled, but it followeth by the vse of earthlie things, because it can hardly be, but that our mind and affection should cleaue vnto them. Religious people therefore to auoid this drunkennes which is so preiudicial, forsake lands and goods & al things, & vse but very sparingly the things which are necessarie for their sustenance, & haue no dominion or power to dispose of them; which is to be most perfectly naked of al things. Where it is specially to be noted, that the Nazareās did not abstaine only from wine, but from anie thing that had anie af∣finitie with it, as vineger, & whatsoeuer lickour that came of the grape, & from the grape itself, & al kinds of raysins, insomuch that they might not so much as suck the stalkes of them. For in like māner Religious people by their verie In∣sti••u••e haue no cōmunicatiō not only with sinful things, but not with anie that haue anie affinitie or neernes vnto them, or may be anie inducement therunto: for it is easie to be drawne frō the stalke to the grape, frō the grape to the wine, & frō wine to drunkennes, that is, frō lesser to greater things, & frō things lawful to the vnlawful; the nature of our Senses and appetite inticing vs alwayes on.

6. The second ceremonie of the Nazareans was,* 1.496 that the razour should not come vpon their head, but that they should preserue their hayre vntouched; which doth euidently giue vs to vnderstand, that Religious people are so wholy God's, and intirely consecrated vnto him, that not only themselues, but what∣soeuer is in them, is holie and deuoted vnto him. For if the hayre was accounted holie, which is least of al belonging to man, and least necessarie; much more our tongue, and our hands, and the rest of our bodie, and most of al our Soule. To which purpose Origines sayth very wel:* 1.497

The Nazareans doe not cut-of their hayre, because al things which the Iust doe, shal prosper, and their leaues shal ••••t fal. Therfore also the hayres of the heads of the disciples of our Lord are sayd to be nūbred, that is, al their works, al their speeches, al their thoughts

are layd-vp in the sight of God, because they are iust, because they are holie.

* 1.4987. The third law, which they were to obserue, was that they were not to accompanie anie dead bodie, not so much as their owne fathers or mothers, or brothers or sisters corps, least they might be defiled. A man might doubt, who are to be vnderstood by dead bodies, but that our Sauiour himself hath declared it vnto vs. For speaking of secular people to one, whom he desired should fol∣low him,* 1.499 he sayd: Suffer the dead to burie the dead; but thou come and follow me; now the dead, whom this man would haue buryed, was his father. In Religion they that follow it, doe vtterly abandon and forsake the world first of al, which is chiefly vnderstood by the dead; secondly they forsake al flesh and bloud, the too much loue wherof must needs defile our soules; but they haue no commu∣nication with it any more, by which meanes they easily preserue themselues pure and vnspotted.

* 1.5008. Fourthly, when the time of their Vow was expired, they were brought to the doore of the Tabernacle, and there were to offer three sorts of Sacrifi∣ce••, to wit, for their Sinne, a Peace-offering, and a Holocaust. With vs, the tearme of our seruice, and of our life, are both one; when our life endeth, our Vow expireth. Then we are presented at the doore of the Tabernacle; of that Tabernacle, I say, in which God hath his dwelling, and into his glorie we are translated to receaue the abundant reward of our long seruice. The state itself of Religion affordeth vs a triple offering: A Holocaust, because by it we are wholy offered to God, nothing at al reserued; A Peace-offering, be∣cause there is no better way then Religion, to haue peace with him, and plentie of his fauours; A Sacrifice for our sinne, because though we may haue been somewhat negligent in our life-time, the force and vertue of Religion, and the abundance of good workes performed in it, wil easily blot that out. Wheru∣pon also it followeth, that the hayre which is cut-of, is cast into the fire as a complement of the Sacrifice; into that fire, I say, in which the Sacrifice itself is burnt and offered. For to what purpose may we think this is? to giue God contentment by the noysome smel of the burning hayre? No, but it giueth vs to vnderstand, that the smallest actions of Religious people are exceeding plea∣sing to God, because they are offered in the fire of Charitie, which fire the State itself doth kindle; which is then most of al to be seen, when, the euening co∣ming, the work-men are called to receaue their hire. Wherefore seing the Na∣zareans and the Religious people resemble one another so neere, yea seing Re∣ligious people doe so farre surpasse the Nazareans of-old; how can we doubt, but that, as the Nazareans in the Religion of the Iewes had the chiefest place of esteeme, so Religious people ought to haue it among vs?

9. Howsoeuer, we may truly and with farre more reason say of our Na∣zareans then of those of-old,* 1.501 those words of the Prophet Hieremie: More white then snow, more neate then milk, more ruddie then ancient Iuorie, more beautiful then the Sapphire. Which place S. Gregorie doth fitly apply to Religious people,* 1.502 tel∣ling vs,

that their life is sayd to be more white then milk or snow; because by the snow, which comes from aboue, we may vnderstand good and godlie men; by milk, which springeth from flesh, we may vnderstand them that dispense earthlie goods vprightly; but a Religious state excels them both. And because by ••eruour of spirit they seeme sometimes to go beyond the life and conuersa∣tion

of the ancient and heroical Fathers (for Iuorie is a bone of a great beast) therefore the Prophet sayth, more ruddit then ancient Iuorie.

Finally, because by their heauenlie conuersation they surpasse manie that haue gone towards hea∣uen before them, they are sayd to be more beautiful then the Sapphire; for the Sapphire is of an ayrie colour. Thus sayth S. Gregorie.

10. Wherefore as a Mappe of a Palace or of a gardin is pleasing to the eye, not in regard of itself, but in regard of the Palace or garden which it repre∣senteth; and the things themselues when they are perfect, doe much more delight then anie perfect delineation of them; so seing we find, that that draught, as I may cal it, of those ancient Nazareans being but a shaddow of our Religious people, was so highly pleasing to God; how much more pleasing must these our Institutes needs be vnto him, wherin there is such solid per∣fection of al Euangelical Vertue? And consequently in the E••angelical Law we may with much more reason, then they could in those dayes, in a manner glorie, and proclame it to al Christians and to the whole Church as a singular benifit, that which we find in the Prophet Amos:* 1.503 I am he that made you ascend from the land of Aegypt, and raysed Prophets of your sonnes, and Nazareans of your yong-men. For so great a worke, and so holie a conuersation (as we haue sayd before, and may often repeate) cannot be begunne, but by the hand of God, nor continued without his help.

That a Religious state was instituted by our Sauiour himself; and first in his Apostles. CHAP. XX.

NOW if we wil search into the beginnings of a Religious state, and value, as it were, the nobilitie by Descent, we shal find the pedigree therof to be more noble, and more illu∣strious, then of anie thing els. For it began not by man nor by humane means, but from the Sonne of God himself, in whom are al the treasures of wisdome, and knowledge of God; and among other documents of Saluation he left this forme of life so much the more cleerly and carefully expressed,* 1.504 both by word & example, by how much it is more per∣fect: wherof I find no bodie but Hereticks to make anie doubt at al. Hereticks indeed both ancient and new (and among the rest that wicked Wickles) doe clamour and vrge very hotly, that al this manner of life is a meer humane In∣uention. But it is clear without question on the other side,* 1.505 that Christ himself was the sole Authour of it; and that by his aduise, and voyce, and authoritie it was first diuulged; wherof manie haue learnedly written, but more largely then the rest, Waldensis, a graue and principal Diuine, and later then he, Clito∣nans in his Booke of Monastical Vowes.* 1.506

7. But what need we cal men to witnes, hauing the authoritie of the Ghospels clear for vs? for wheras Religion consisteth of the three Vowes,

wherof I haue often spoken,* 1.507 we shal quickly find, that al of them were first brought to light by our Sauiour. For of Chastitie we haue it from his owne mouth, that there are Eunuchs, who haue guelded themselues for the kingdome of God; which saying cannot be vnderstood of those who abstayne from marriage meerly voluntarily, and out of a single purpose or resolution of their mind; for hauing it stil in their power to make choice of the state of marriage, when they list, they cannot be called Eunuchs; they only therfore are decyphered vnto vs in these words, who haue vtterly cut-of al power of this kind from themselues by a perpetual and solemne Vow, such as Religion obligeth 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vnto.

* 1.5083. And as for Pouertie, in what tearmes could he more plainly and more effectually commend it vnto vs, then when he sayd: Vnlesse a man renounce al that he possesseth,* 1.509 he cannot be my disciple? or when he prescribed his Disciples this rule:* 1.510 Possesse neither gold nor siluer; and bids them carrie with them neither bag nor scrip.

4. He instituted Obedience when he sayd: He that wil come after me, let him denye himself.* 1.511 For by this denial of one's self, Doctours doe generally vnderstand the Vow of Obedience; and (which is of more weight) the Councel of Sens (as appeareth by a Decree therof) doth construe it to the same effect.* 1.512 And our Sauiour hauing thus seuerally vpon occasion giuen vs these documents,* 1.513 he doth as it were ioyntly commend them al vnto vs, when to the yong-man, that came vnto him and asked him how he might come to Life Euerlasting,* 1.514 he giueth answer in these words, which three Euangelists doe relate almost word for word alike,* 1.515 laying before our eyes (as S. Augustin auerreth,* 1.516 and al learned men after him) a most perfect patterne of a Religious vocation,* 1.517 & a draught of that, which dayly hapneth in Soules, that are induced to embrace that kind of life.

5. For first if we consider, that our Sauiour beholding him, loued him, as it is sayd in the Ghospel: what doth this signifye other, then that so great a benefit is not giuen but to those whom God doth behold after a particular kind of manner and singularly loue? That he telleth him, that One thing is yet wanting vnto thee; and sayth it to one, that from his verie youth had alwayes obserued al the Commandments, doubtlesse he would edge him on with desire of Perfection, the beautie therof being of itself wonderfully amiable. For as if an Image were so farre begunne, as that the head, and the breast, and the armes were most curiously earned, and the rest of the bodie not yet finished, the image itself, if it had sense and vnderstan∣ding, would grieue and desire, that it might be brought to perfection; so this yong man, hearing how much he yet wanted, in reason he should haue been so netled within, that he could not haue rested til he had obtayned it. There followeth the Counsel, and forme of Perfection, with the reward belonging vnto it: Goe and sel al that thou hast, and giue it to the poore; and come and follow me; and thou shal•• haue a treasure in heauen. Naming Al, he willeth him to reserue nothing to himself, but bereaue him∣self absolutly of al things. Bidding him Sel al, he prescribeth a perpetual and irreuocable abdication and defeisance. Finally in those words, Follow me, he comprehendeth Obedience, and the rest of the Counsels. This

therefore was the Counsel of our Sauiour, cleerly and expresly deliuered by his owne mouth.

6. Which perfection,* 1.518 though the yong man foolishly reiected it when it was offered him by our Sauiour, the Apostles, who were his first Schollars, admitted of it. For so doe diuers very learned men deliuer, to wit, that the Apostles were the first that euer receaued this kind of forme of Religious Institute, and first put it in practise. And of the Pouertie which they professed, there can be no doubt made, because we find it by that which is written of their practise in the Ghospel; and S. Peter testifyeth as much,* 1.519 when in the name of them al, he sayth: Behold, we haue forsaken al things; which words declare not only their Pouertie, but their Chastitie also. For vnder the name of Al things, doubtles their wiues are also to be vnderstood; and S. Hierome vseth it as an argument against Iouinian;* 1.520 specially seing (as he sayth) our Sauiour answering S. Peter, mentioneth wiues among other things that were to be forsaken, insinuating that the Apostles had already performed that part. Wherupon S. Hierome concludeth, that they had wiues before they knew any thing of the Gospel; but when they were chosen Apostles, they presently layd aside the vse of them; vpon which ground in an other place he sayth, that the Apostles were al of them either virgins, or, hauing been married, abstayned from their wiues. Finally we may gather their Obedience from these words: And we haue followed thee. For what is it to follow an other, but to liue according to his direction, and to obey him in al things? Seing therfore al these things are without question to be found in the Apostles, let vs shew, that they obliged themselues also therunto by Vow.

7. Besides other Diuines,* 1.521 Aluarus Pelagius (a graue and learned Au∣thour) doth cleerly demonstrate this point in the Booke which he writ of the Complaint of the Church, and bringeth manie arguments to proue it, but chiefly this, that a Vow, as he sayth, is the Counsel of Counsels, and the soule and perfection of them; because whatsoeuer Counsel is confirmed by Vow, it is essentially the more perfect, and the more acceptable to God. From whence he concludeth, that if the Apostles had made no Vow, they could not be sayd to be in the top and heighth of Perfection; but the abdication of the self-same things, which Religious people doe dayly professe, would be more perfect then that which the Apostles practised, in regard they oblige themselues by Vow: now it were temerarious, and wicked, and impious to think or say so of the Apostles. And he con∣firmeth it, because there can be no question, but that the Apostles did not only leaue the possession of that which they had, but the wil of hauing anie thing; that they might truly say: They had forsaken al. But this wil of hauing, cannot be forsaken, bu•• by Vow; because we renounce not our wil, as long as we may resume it againe at our pleasure. We may adde moreouer, that certainly the Apostles did not forsake that, which they had, more vnperfectly then the yong man, we spake of, had forsaken them, if he had followed the Counsel of our Sauiour, and sold al; for our Sauiour gaue him the same Counsel, which the Apostles had already embraced: But he: that selleth al thing ••reserueth to himself no power or right at al ouer it;

and consequently neither did the Apostles reserue anie thing to themselues. S. Thomas doth cleerly and solidly auerre the self-same,* 1.522 to wit, that there is no doubt to be made, but that the Apostles did vow al things belonging to a state of Perfection,* 1.523 when forsaking al, they followed Christ. But S. Augustin doth most perspicuously and most learnedly of anie other deliuer it in these words:

That poore man is raysed from the earth aboue al rich men, and that needie man is extolled aboue al wealthie people from that dung, to sit with the Power∣ful of the people, to whom he sayth: You shal sit vpon twelve seates; giuing them a Seate of glorie in inheritance.

For these Powerful people had sayd: Behold we haue forsaken al, and followed thee. This Vow these most Powerful had vowed. So S. Augustin. Seing therefore it is cleare, that the Apostles obserued Pouertie, Chastitie, and Obedience, and moreouer that they did not obserue them meerly voluntarily, but obliged themselues therunto also by Vow; why may we not acknowledge, that this height of Perfection is descended from Christ by them, and account them the first foundations of Religious Conuents? And certainly it was but reason, that so rare a course should be commended by their Dignitie and Sanctitie; and that they, who were to be the Maisters and Doctours of the world, should not want this ornament, which in the glorie of the Ghospels is so conspicuous.

How Religious courses did flourish in the time of the Apostles. CHAP. XXI.

THE Apostles hauing receaued of Christ our Sauiour this forme of sanctitie, they instantly printed it in the harts of the first Beleeuers,* 1.524 which were then tender and pliable to al good things, and apt to admit of whatsoeuer impression of the Holie-Ghost. Wherefore not only those Hundred and twentie persons, who remaining togeather in that Vpper roome (as it is mentioned in the Acts) made,* 1.525 as it were,* 1.526 one bodie among themselues, embraced this Pouertie, & nakednes of al things, and a life in common; but other Christians also of those dayes conuerted in Hierusalem by their meanes; of whom it is written: The multi∣tude of Beleeuers were of one hart, and one soule; and none of them called anie thing his owne of that which they possessed,* 1.527 but al things were common among them. For as manie as were in possession of lands and houses, selling them, brought the price of that which they sold, and layd it at the feete of the Apostles. And diuision was made of it to euerie one as he had need. That withal they made some Vow or promise,* 1.528 not only S. Hierome and diuers others doe testifye, but that which S. Peter sayd when he reprehended Ananias, doth euidently shew it: W••y, sayth he, ha•••• Sathan tempted thy hart to lye to the Holie-Ghost, and defraude of the price of the field? Thou hast not lyed to men, but to God. For if Ananias

had been so liberal meerly out of deuotion, and out of a forwardnes of a franck disposition, wholy free and disobliged; neither could he haue been sayd to haue lyed to the Holie-Ghost, nor certainly deserued so grieuous pu∣nishment.

2. Wherefore S. Hierome fayth right wel of that Age:* 1.529 The Church of the first Belieuers was such as Monks now adayes desire and endeauour to be, that no bodie haue anie thing of his owne, none be rich among them, none poore; they diuide their patrimonie among the poore, attend to Prayer, Psal∣mes, Doctrine, and Cōtinencie; such as S. Luke relateth that the first Belieuers were in Hierusalem. So that in those verie beginnings, they that aspired to this perfect forme of a Religious life, were greatly encreased and multiplied, liuing also apart from companie of the rest in one certain place among themselues, vn∣der the gouernment and obedience of some one.* 1.530 Wherupon Cassian writeth that the life of those that liue in common, descendeth from the times of the A∣postles preaching; when manie out of the loue of Perfection, not contenting themselues with that which al did, to wit, to lay al they had in common, but ayming at higher things, began to withdraw themselues into more priuate places out of the towne; and because they abstained from their wiues, and from the companie of their kindred, and from al worldlie conuersation, they were called Monks by reason of their solitude, and Conuentuals by reason of their liuing in common.

3. Which perfection rested not only in Hierusalem and Alexandria,* 1.531 but spred itself also at that verie time into other parts of the world. For we find that in Aethiopia the King's daughter was consecrated to God by S. Matthew Thecla, by S. Paul in Greece, Domitilla at Rome by S. Clement, and in France S. Martha (she that was our Sauiour's hostesse) after the Ghospel was preached at Marsells, is recorded to haue built a Monasterie in a solitarie place retired from the companie of men, where togeather with diuers women of worth consecrated to God, she lead a most heauenlie life. And finally S. Denis (a man that liued in that first Age) writeth of this kind of Institute,* 1.532 as of a thing vsu∣ally receaued and practised; and by that which he sayth of it, he giueth vs to vnderstand, not only that it is very ancient, but also that euen in those dayes it was highly reuerenced.* 1.533 For this reason, sayth he, our Diuine teachers haue giuen them names which sound of holines: some calling them Worshippers, others calling them Monks, for the sincere worship, and seruice which they doe to God, and for their solitarie and single life, which maketh them One, and apt to attaine to Vnion with God, and perfection pleasing vnto him, by holie coniunction of things diuided. And then goeth-on to declare the Ceremonies and Rites anciently vsed in the Consecration of Monks, and the reasons and mysteries of them. For first, he sayth, it was the order that the Priest standing before the Altar should say some prayer suitable to the Ceremonie they had in hand; and when the prayer was ended, turning himself to him that was to be admitted, he asked him: whether he were indeed resolued to renounce his se∣cular life (which, as his manner is, he calleth a diuided and distracted life, because it forceth a man to be sollicitous, and troubled about manie things) and sepa∣rate himself from the verie sight of it, betaking himself to an other place. Then proposing vnto him a most perfect forme of liuing, he gaue him to vnderstand

that from thence forward he was to surpasse in conuersation, both the vulgar and middle sort of men; which shewes how perfect this kind of course it, seing (as he sayth further) it is not ranked in the middle rank of them that ayme at Perfection, but with the highest and most perfect; so that manie things may be done without blame by them that are of the middle sort, which Monks are forbidden, because their busines is to draw themselues as neere as they can and vnite themselues with God. When he that was to be consecrated had promised al this, the Priest making the signe of the Crosse vpon him, did cut-of his hayre in the name of the Blessed Trinitie, and stripping him of his garments, gaue him others to put on; and himself and others that were present saluting him, and giuing him ioy, at last he gaue him the Diuine Mysteries, that is, the holie Communion and most blessed Sacrament.

* 1.5344. This is that which S. Denis relateth; and addeth withal the explication of al the Ceremonies.

For the cutting-of his hayre (sayth he) did signifie, that laying aside al humane and earthlie ornaments, and from that time forward despising them, he was resolued to seeke to please God by the sole beautie of his soule. The changing of his garment, betokened the inward change of his hart and mind; and withal it was to put him in mind, that his life and conuersation was to differ as much from others, as his Habit did from anie vulgar weare. The saluting him, represented that which our Sauiour sayd: that ther should be ioy in heauen of one soule conuerted to God;* 1.535 for the like ioy and gladnes doth happen also to them that on earth doe endeauour to imitate God. Finally the receauing of the sacred Bodie of our Sauiour, doth put vs in mind of the end, for which such holie courses are taken; to wit, a most perfect and inward coniunction with that Infinit Sanctitie, the fruit of Diuine association,* 1.536 which he was to reape by Monastical exercises.

Thus farre S. Denis And I doubt not but whosoeuer in his hart doth loue a Religious course, wil be willing to heare the particulars of the beginnings therof, and as it were behold with his eyes, how ful of deuotion and feruour they were; and it wil not be from our purpose to relate them, because they wil much confirme the Antiquitie of Religious Orders, which is the point we handle.

* 1.5375. Philo (who is sayd to haue liued in the time of S. Peter, and to haue spoken with him at Rome) shal be our Authour. He being (as S. Hierome writeth) the eloquentest of al the Iewes, wrote a booke as it were in prayse of his owne Nation, which he intitled Of the Vertues of the Suppliants, stiling them so, in regard they spent their whole time in supplicatiōs & prayer. And though the Booke be yet extant, and easie to be had, I wil notwithstan∣ding cote that which is for my purpose rather out of Eusebius,* 1.538 a graue and an∣cient Historiographer, who taketh what he sayth word for word out of Philo, and doth moreouer giue vs some more light with apt interpretations which he addeth.

F••r so we shal vnderstād the thing better by the light which he giueth; and the authoritie of two such graue writers ioyned togeather wil be the grea∣ter, Eusebius therefore hauing sayd some-thing before in prayse of Philo, and of the title of his Booke, writeth thus: First he recordeth, that they, who did enter vpon this kind of Philosophie, did forsake their possessions, and yeald-vp the right of that which did belong vnto them, and sequestred themselues from al

the cares of this life,* 1.539 and forsaking the citties, liued solitarily in the fields and gardens, perswading themselues for certain, that the companie of them, that followed an inferiour course of life, would be vnprofitable and hurtful vnto them, that at that time endeauoured in that course as they ought. When the aforesayd Philo had sayd thus word for word, he addeth: This kind of men is in manie parts of the world dispersed (for it was fit that both the Grecians and the Barbarians should be partakers of so perfect a good thing) but in Aegipt they abound in euerie Prefectship, as they cal them, and most of al about Alexandria.

6. Then describing the fashion of their dwellings,* 1.540 he sayth thus of the Churches of that Countrie.

In euerie one there is a holie house, which they cal a Monasterie, where they remayne celebrating the mysteries of holie life; and they carrie nothing in thither, neither meate, nor drink, nor anie thing that belongeth to corporal sustenance, but the Lawes, and the Oracles of the Prophets, and Hymnes, and other things of like nature, whereby knowledge & deuotion is encreased and perfected. And a litle after he sayth: Al the time which is from morning to euening they bestow in exercise.* 1.541 For reading the holie Scriptures, they discourse vpon them, and handle their National Philosophie Allegorically. For they make account, that vnder the manifest sense of Scripture there be certain mysteries of hidden nature sig∣nified by the figures. And they haue also Commentaries of ancient Wri∣ters, who, as they were principal men of their owne profession, left ma∣nie worthie Monuments after them in figure of things Allegorically deli∣uered.

7. He seemes to speake as if himself had been a Schollar to them that ex∣pounded the holie Scriptures.* 1.542 And it is likelie that the Commentaries of those ancient Writers, which he sayth they had, were the Ghospels and Writings of the Apostles, and some Expositions of the ancient Prophets, such as the Epistle to the Hebrewes is, and manie other Epistles of S. Paul. And much more he sayth in that Booke of them, of whom now we speake; but I haue thought good to make choice of those things, by which he giueth vs a scantling of this Ecclesiastical conuersation.

Thus therefore he writeth: Continencie they place as the first foundation in their Soule, and vpon it they build other vertues. None of them doe either eate or drink before sunne∣set. For they make account, that the studie of Philosophie is worthie of the light, the nece••sities of the bodie may be supplied in darknes; there∣fore they bestow the day vpon the former, and a smal parcel of the night vpon the latter. Some of them remember not to eate in three whole dayes, as hauing a more earnest desire of knowledge then of corporal sustenance. Some of them are so delighted and ouer-ioyed with the food of Wisdome, furnishing them with abundance and plentie of documents, that they double this time of abstinence, and for six dayes togeather doe hardly take anie neces∣sarie sustenance. And he sayth moreouer, that there be certain women among these people of whome he speaketh; most of them ancient virgins, obseruing Chasti••ie, not of necessitie (as the Vestals among the Gentils) but of their owne accord for the zeale and desire of wisdome; and attending dili∣gently therunto, they contemne the pleasures of the bodie, desiring rather

immortal children, which a Soule louing God may of itself bring forth, then anie mortal of-spring. What shal we need to say further, how they meete in conuersation togeather, the men by themselues, and the women by themsel∣ues apart; and what their exercises be, which continue to this day, and are practised by vs, specially about the Feast of the soueraigne Passion, in fasting and watching by night, and in reading of the Diuine words? which the fore∣said Authour hath carefully set downe after the same manner, as with vs they are hitherto obserued, describing their exercises with the Hymnes which we are wont to say; and how, while one sings a Verse, the rest harken in silence, and make an end of the Hymne, singing the clause therof al togeather with him. He addeth moreouer, how they, to whome the Ecclesiastical functions are committed, doe gouerne among them; which if anie one desire to know more fully, he may reade it in the foresayd Historie of this Authour.

So Eusebi•••• out of Philo.

8. And doubtles Religion continued the self-same course and manner of liuing, not only in those first times of the Apostles, and Apostolical men, but three hundred yeares after, and more. For Tertullian,* 1.543 who liued next vnto the times of the Apostles, wrote a Booke of Veyling of Virgins, which is yet extant. And we find moreouer to this day an ancient Decree of Pope Pius the First, made in the yeare of our Lord one hundred fourtie seauen, of the Ceremonie to be obserued in the Consecration of Virgins;* 1.544 which Ceremonie S. Ambrose in his Booke of the Institution of a Virgin, and Eusebius in the life of Constantine, doe deriue from the Primitiue Church.* 1.545 And in the writings of most of the ancient Fathers we find often mention of Virgins, accustomed euen in those dayes to be solemnely veyled and consecrated the Spouses of God; and they speake of it as of a thing very ancient,* 1.546 and much vsed. As in S. Iustin the Martyr in his second Apologie, which he wrote in behalf of Christians, S. Clement of Alexan∣dria in his second Booke of Stromata, in one of S. Ignatius his Epistles, who was disciple to S. Iohn the Euangelist, S. Cyprian, and Origen and manie others. Rus∣sinus and Theodoret doe also relate, that S. Helen when she went to Hierusalem to seeke-out the wood of the holie Crosse,* 1.547 found Virgins there consecrated to God. And S. Hierome in manie places of his Works, but specially in the life of Malcus, whome he knew a very old man when himself was very yong, doth often make mention of Monasteries, and Fathers of monasteries, and of the liuing of manie Brethren togeather; Finally there is scarce one of the ancient Writers, in whome we shal not meete with certain marks, or rather with most euident testimonies and proofes, of this kind of course.

9. If a man aske, whether the manner of liuing of Religious people in those ancient times were the self-same which now is held;* 1.548 there is no doubt to be made, but that they are both alike, and altogeather the same; and to denye it, were Heresie, or very neer vnto it. For in those dayes, they did not only pro∣fesse Pouertie, and Chastitie, & Obedience to their Gouernours, as we haue shewed out of Philo, but al of them, or in a manner al, did oblige themselues by Vow; so as to go back from that state, was both vnlawful and wicked. The difference was (if there were anie) that those Monastical Vowes carried not as then hat authoritie, or (as Diuines doe speake) had not that Solemnius which now they haue.

10. Besides that, in those beginnings it is more probable that they did make their Vowes expresly and publikly; but Profession was so annexed to a Reli∣gious life, by the general acceptance and opinion of euery bodie, that though by word of mouth they made no promise, yet they made account, that who∣soeuer did enter vpon that state, did oblige himself to professe it; much after the same manner, as I take it, as now adayes the Vow of Chastitie is included in the receauing of Holie-Orders: which we may gather out of a certain pas∣sage of S. Basil,* 1.549 where he sayth, that they who did enter into the Order of Monks, did tacitly admit of a Single life. Which custome stood as long, as that ancient pietie and bashfulnes was sufficient to keepe men in awe; afterwards it was thought more conuenient (as S. Basil ordayneth in the same place) to exact an expresse promise of Continencie;* 1.550 but so as at first, if a man breaking his Vow had mar∣ried, he had committed a great offence; yet his marriage held. In which kind S. Cyprian in his Epistle to Pomponius, and S. Hierome to Demetrias doe speake of Nunnes, aduising them to marrie, if they cannot liue continently, as they had made Profession; because marriage by legal dispensation obtayned of the Bishop,* 1.551 was at that time no sinne. And we meete with the same aduice in S. Epiphanius; and S. Augustin doth expresly dispute against those that denyed the marriage of such people to be good marriage.* 1.552

11. And wheras Pope Innocent the First, who liued in those times, and some Councels doe command, that such marriage should be broken-of, it is to be vnderstood that they appointed (for the punishment of the parties) that they should not liue togeather, which doubtles they might with good reason or∣dayne; but they say not,* 1.553 that the marriage itself was not valide; and yet this punishment was not euen in those dayes generally receaued and established in the Church. For Pope Leo the First, who liued litle more then twentie yeares after Pope Innocent,* 1.554 teacheth that it was a sinne to marrie, but sayth nothing of breaking the marriage. And Pope Gelasius, who sate in the yeare Foure hundred ninetie two, exhorteth such Nunnes to resume the s••ate from which they were fallen,* 1.555 but doth not compel them, nor disannulle their marriages. S. Gregorie himself, who was more exact in this kind then anie of his Prede∣cessours, in diuers of his Epistles and Decrees commanding such,* 1.556 as were thus contracted, to be separated, and put into t••eir Monasteries againe; yet doth not say anie thing which enforceth vs to vnderstand that their marriage was inualide.* 1.557 But rather we may gather, that their marriages did hold, by that which in one of his Homilies he relateth of his Aunt Gordiana, that hauing consecrated herself to God togeather with two of her sisters,* 1.558 after their decease, forgetting (as he speaketh) the feare of God, forgetting al shame and bash∣fulnes, forgetting her Consecration, tooke a husband, and liued euer after with him

12. Wherefore the first (for ou ht we find recorded) that did not only forbid Religious people to marrie,* 1.559 but make their marriages voyde, if they should chance to marrie, was Pope Innocent the Second, in a General Councel at Rome, in the yeare of our Lord. One thousand one hundred thirtie nine. And yet if we search to the bottome of it, we shal find, that though this was at that time first of al decreed by general consent of the Church, and brought into vniuersal practise, diuers Bishops notwithstanding had ordayned the same

before in their particular Dioceses; for we reade in the Larger Rule of S. Basil,* 1.560 that he that hauing once consecrated himself to God, and obliged himself by Vow, did afterwards passe to an other kind of life, did commit sacriledge. And againe in his Booke of Virginitie,* 1.561 he proueth the same at large, giuing this reason, because as it is adulterie and not matrimonie to couple with an other, while the husband or wife liueth; so for one, that is already espoused to Christ who liueth for euer,* 1.562 it is adulterie to marrie at al. Now that S. Bas••l first ordayned and decreed this, is euident by that which he writeth in his Epistle to Amphilochius, where he sayth thus: Because now by course of time the Church of God is made stronger, and the number of Virgins is encreased, the marriage of Canons (that is, of Regulars) is to be disannulled, and they that are polluted therwith, are not to be admitted to the Blessed Sacrament, before they haue cleered themselues of that crime.

* 1.56313. We find that S. Chrysostome doth write to the same effect in very weightie tearmes to Theodore a Monk that was fallen. And S. Ambrose in like manner to a Virgin that had forsaken her purpose;* 1.564 If she wil marrie (sayth he) as others doe, she committeth adulterie; she is made a slaue to death. Al which layd togeather doth proue, that Religious Vowes did alwayes make secular marriages vnlawful; but the force which they haue to make them voyde (which Diuines tearme the Solemnitie of the Vow) was by successe of time brought in by degrees; and is a great ornament, and withal giues great strength and worth to Religious courses; so that they not only yeald nothing to the ancient Institutes, but for matter of order and forme haue something in them, that is better and the more to be esteemed.

How Religious Orders haue descended to our times. CHAP. XXII.

HITHERTO we haue beheld, as I may say, the birth and yonger yeares of Religion; and it cannot be but to our much greater contentment, to see it now in the perfect growth, and as it were in man's estate; to which, we may truly say, it came about the yeare of our Lord Three hundred and fiftie, when in that Golden Age of Constantine, al parts of the Church of God began to flourish; and this not the least among them.

* 1.5652. The principal Authour of this so notable encrease, was that great S. Anto∣ni••, whome the wisdome of God may be sayd to haue furnished with plentie of al heauenlie guifts for this particular end. For it is euident, that before his time there were Monasteries and Religious people, by that which S. Ath••∣na•••• w••iteth in his Life, that he began this spiritual warfare in Monasteries, vnder the conduct of others, and in companie of them, by whose example an limitation, as ••e writeth, he indeauoured so to benefit himself, that he be∣came more per•••••• in vertue euerie day then other, and picked out of euerie one

of them some spiritual profit, as bees doe their honie. And stil burning with desire of greater perfection, he attempted to transport himself and his disciples after him more inwardly into the Desert, and further from the companie of men; and his sanctitie growing conspicuous to the world, it made such impression and change in mens minds, through the example which he gaue them, that the Deserts of Armenia, and Scythia, and Nitria, & of both the Thebais, and al Aegypt was filled with Monasteries gouerned by his wisdome and direction, he being as it were a general Father of them al.

3. We may wel say,* 1.566 that innummerable Monks and Religious people haue been deriued from this fountaine of Monastical discipline, and among others that renowned Hilarion (an other S. Anthonie in a manner) who,* 1.567 as S. Hierome writeth, was the first Founder of Monasteries in Palestine, wheras in al Syria, there had not been a Monk seen before him. He (sayth S. Hierome) was the Authour and Founder of this Conuersation in that Prouince; Our Lord IESVS had in Aegypt old Antonie; in Palestine he had yong Hilarion. And by his example there began to be Monasteries without number, and euerie one did striue to come to him, to recaue from him documents of heauenlie con∣uersation; which he perceauing gaue the prayse to the grace of our Lord, and exhorted euerie one to haue regard to the benefit of their soule. Thus writeth S. Hierome of S. Hilarion.

4. About the same time in Greece, S. Basil,* 1.568 surnamed also deseruedly the Great, without any relation (for ought I know) to S. Antonie, but meerly out of his owne disposition and iudgement, did wonderfully aduance and set forward monastical Discipline,* 1.569 himself being a professour of it. And we may see it by what he writeth of himself in one of his Epistles.

We are accused, sayth he, that we haue men with vs that follow their deuotions, that haue renounced the world, and al temporal cares; which cares our Sauiour like∣neth to thornes not suffering the word to bring forth fruit; they carrie about them them mortification of IESVS in their bodies; and taking-vp their Crosse, they follow God. As for my owne part, I would willingly giue my life to haue such iniuries layd to my charge, and to haue people with me that by my direction should haue made choice of such exercises. I heare indeed that in Aegypt there be men of such rare vertue; and perchance in Palestine they liue directly ac∣cording to the Ghospel. I vnderstand also, that in Mesopotamia there be per∣fect and blessed men.* 1.570

But we are children in comparison of the Perfect.

5. But it was not in number only that S. Basil aduanced Religious In∣stitutes, but much more by Rules and Constitutions. For wheras before him, there was no other certaintie of their orders and manner of gouern∣ment, then what either the inward vnction of the Holie-Ghost did inspire querie one, or the Gouernours, whom they had chosen, would bid them doe by word of mouth; S B••sil was the first, that drew certain Rules and orders, in themselues most holie, and most vseful for the direction of that manner of Conuersation. He appointed a time for Probation, at the end wherof they should al oblige themselues by Vow; he set downe a certain method of liuing, as what exercises of vertue they were to performe, what they were to auoyd as hurtful; he appointed certain punishments proportionable to the faults of the offenders; and ordered euerie thing with that wisdome and

moderation, that they were not only presently admitted-of by al, and put in practise, but to this verie day the Monasteries of Greece and of al the Eastern parts haue no other Rule, but S. Basi••'s.

6. He brought also an other thing to passe; to wit, that wheras before, al that did make profession of a Religious course, did attend only to themselues, and to their owne priuate spiritual benefit,* 1.571 and therefore of purpose did shunne companie, as an enemie to their desired quiet; he brought this Diuine Philo∣sophie as it were from the Third heauen, and planted it neerer citties and townes, that their Neighbour might reape fruit and commoditie by it. S. Gregorie Nazianzen doth cleerly testifye it of him in these words: To the end he might not only benefit himself but others, he first of al men thought of Monasteries, and brought that ancient and solitarie fashion of liuing of Monks,* 1.572 to a certain methode and order, neerer to Religion.

For perceauing, that they, who liued among others in the world, though they were careful to obserue a kind of Monastical abstinence, yet benefited others, and not themselues so much, because of force they must dwel in the midst of manie euils, contrarie to a quiet and perfect life; and on the other side, that they, who liue farre remote from companie in the Desert, are more constant in their good resolutions, and more vnited to God, but yet are but for themselues, because they want experience, and haue no communication at al with others; he laboured to ioyne both these kinds of life in one. To which purpose he or∣dered the building of Monasteries not farre from companie, and would not haue them wholy separated; that when Charitie required, they might be at hand by reason of their neernes; and be otherwise confined within their owne limits, to the end that companie might not hinder their quiet; by which means they should neither be depriued of the employment which Charitie towards others would cal them vnto, nor their employment againe become vnpro∣fitable, by reason of the multitude, but one help an other; and the life of Monks become fruitful by conuersation with them that liue in the world; and they againe learne quiet, and contemplation, and wisdome of the Monks; and be as the sea and the land embracing and helping one an other.

Al this is out of S. Gregorie Nazianzen.

7. At this time when the Grace of God was so plentiful in aduancing Reli∣gious courses in Greece and in al the Eastern parts;* 1.573 we must not think that the rest of the world was depriued of this glorie. For S. Augustin writeth that he saw a Monasterie at Milan,* 1.574 which S. Ambrose (as he speaketh) nursed vp; and S. Augustin himself (as Possidonius relateth) did found Monasteries of men and women in Africk,* 1.575 which manie doe think (& among the rest S. Antoninus) that they were of the Institute, which now adayes we cal the Heremits of S. Augustin. For thus he writeth: S. Augustin, before he was Bishop, built a monasterie in a wood neer the cittie of Hippo;* 1.576 which monasterie both in his life-time, and after his decease grew to great greatnes, and diuided itself into manie branches in the bordering citties, but after some yeares was by the In••••de, which the Barbarians made, dispersed; & some of the Religious came into Italie, others went to other places, til Innocent the Fourth, who was Pope in the yeare One thousand two hundred fourtie three, finding diuers other He∣rem•••• dispersed heer & there, called them al togeather, and ioyning them both

in Habit and Habitation, incorporated them to the Rule of S. Augustin, and withal commanded them to liue in Citties, that they might also benefit their Neighbour; which course his successour Alexander the Fourth did follow much more eagerly, being moued therunto by a heauenlie Vision, S. Augustin appearing vnto him with a great head, and a litle bodie; by which addition this Religion encreasing dayly more and more doth flourish, as we see this day, in the Church, and in the midst of the Citties keepeth the name of Hermits, which it had from the beginning, deriued from the solitude, which it profes∣sed. But this hapned much later; wherfore let vs returne to the times of S. Au∣gustin.

8. S. Hierome insinuateth,* 1.577 that much about that time Religious courses were brought vp to Rome, or rather notably encreased there. For writing in commendation of Marcella, he sayth, that wheras before, the purpose of Monks was not knowne in Rome, and no bodie durst by reason of the noueltie of it take vpon him that name, which as then was, in the opinion of the vulgar, vile and contemptible; Marcella hauing learned the manner of life of S. Antonie yet liuing, and of the Monasteries of Thebais, by meanes of the Priests of Alexandria, that were in banishment for feare of Arius, was not ashamed to make profession of that which she knew was pleasing to Christ. And erecting a Monasterie in a place without towne, by her example there grew to be manie Monasteries of Virgins, and an infinit multitude of Monks; insomuch that the multitude of them made that glorious, which before was contemptible.

9. Vpon these foundations Religion stil grew more and more, and descen∣ded to S. Benedict his times,* 1.578 which was a little more then a hundred yeares after; and we may gather it by that which S. Gregorie relateth of him,* 1.579 to wit, that R••manus a Monk before him, brought him his meate to the denne where he was retired; and that he was chosen Abbot by a whole Monasterie, when the Abbot therof was deceased, whereby we may see, that there were d••i••rs Monks in Italie before S. Benedict, where notwithstanding he is deseruedly called the Father and Patriarch of of Monks, because he did rayse Monasti∣cal discipline to so great a height of sanctitie, and esteeme of wisdome, that he may be in a manner sayd to haue been the Authour of it. For hauing begun his Order in Monte-Cassino in the yeare Fiue hundred and twentie (as we find recorded) he founded, as it were in an instant, twelue Monasteries in Italie, and out of them drew other branches into France by S. Maurus, into Sicilie by S. Placidus, and by others into other places. And he did not only store Religion with an infinit number of subiects, but reformed the Orders of it.* 1.580 For he wrote a Rule which is yet extant and in practise, so ful of wisdome, that S. Gregorie speaking in commendation of it, calleth it very truly perspicuous in words, rare in discretion. Insomuch that as the East doth honour S. Basil, so the West doth honour S. Benedict, as the Authour and Father of Religion.

10. Out of this root, which he planted, diuers branches of seueral Fami∣lies haue sprung, embracing the substance of the Institute of S. Benedict, but reforming, or adding, or slightly changing some things, and differing some∣what from it.* 1.581

11. The first and most ancient among them is the Order of Cluny, which was begun in the yeare Nine hundred and thirteen, by Odo Abbot of Cluny,

and from him taketh the name. For the Institute of S. Benedict growing to decay, as al other things naturally doe in time, he being eminent both in learning and holines of life, endeauoured to restore it to the former per∣fection, and effected it. By whose example most of the Abbots of Italie, Spayne, Germanie, and England applyed themselues to the reforming of their Monasteries with like successe and fruit, and vniting themselues to∣geather, and concurring in one spirit, the authoritie of the Pope helping also therunto, they had a meeting euerie yeare, wherin they aduised and re∣solued vpon such things, as might conduce to the maintenance of Religious discipline; and the change was so notable for the better, that it is obserued, that there were two thousand Monasteries restored and reformed.

* 1.58212. A branch of the same Institute is the Order of Camaldula, founded by S. Romualdus: who about the yeare of our Lord One thousand, seating him∣self in the Mount Apennine, to the end there to follow a course of pen∣nance and Religion, made such a change in the harts of men by the example and admiration of his sanctitie, that (as we find recorded) it was thought, that the whole world would haue become Religious, vnlesse he had hindred it. And there were so manie Monasteries built euerie where according to his Rule, that it may be in a manner accounted a new Order.

* 1.58313. The Order which is called of Valle-vmbrosa had the like beginning and successe, seauentie three yeares only after that of Camaldula. Iohn Gual∣bertus was the beginner of it; who not only pardoning his enemie, whom he ha•• in his power to kil (in regard he besought him by the Passion of Christ who suffered as that day, that he would spare him) but louingly embracing him, and telling him, that from that day he would take him for his owne brother, whome the other had killed; this fact of his was so highly pleasing of our Sauiour, that coming presently into the next Church, and praying before the image of a Crucifix which was of wood, the head of the Crucifix bowed downe vnto him, as it were, thanking him, and the noyse of the crack, which the wood gaue; was playnly heard by those that were present. And withal God planted in his hart a desire of being Religious; and fi••••t he retired himself, and beganne a Religious course in his owne house, and afterwards in the Valley aforenamed, a place as then but meane and ob∣scure, but not long after much renowned for the vertue of this blessed man. And his Order grew great in time, and diffused itself into manie branches.

* 1.58414. But the Cistercian Order is one of the noblest of them al, and the be∣ginning therof as noble. In the yeare One thousand ninetie eight, in the rai∣gne of Henrie the Fourth Emperour, and Philip the First King of France, R••bert Abbot of Molismes, finding that his Monks grew disorderlie by reason of the number of them, and of their great wealth, aduising with some of them that were more vertuously giuen (to the number of one and twentie, as it is recor∣ded) transported himself to Cabillon, the chief cittie of Burgundie in those dayes; and chose his dwelling in a solitarie place called Cisleaux, from which the Order is named the Cistercian Order. But the Monks of Molismes ••eclaming themselues in the meane time, were earnest with Robert to returne vnto them, which he did; and placed Stephen in his roome at Cisleaux, a man f••ruently giuen, and, as it is thought, the Authour of that separation.

Their Companie was very smal, and continued so for fifteene yeares, that it was likelie to come to nothing; til S. Bernard inspired by God, coming vnto it, did not only vphold it, but made it wonderfully famous. For he put himself into that Monasterie with thirtie others, wherof three were his owne brethren; and not long after, the fame of his vertuous liuing breaking-forth of that ob∣scuritie, he drew so manie to follow his footsteps, that sending his brethren and disciples abroad into the whole world, he founded one hundred and three∣score Monasteries in his owne life-time.

15. Al these Families sprung out of the Rule of S. Benedict, which in those dayes did beare al the sway; insomuch that in al the Western parts it is hol∣den, that there were no other Monks but they that professed that Rule, til the Charterhouse-monks began, which was some sixteen yeares before the be∣ginning of the Cistercian Order; and the origin of them is wel knowne, and fa∣mous. For a Doctour of the Law in Paris dying with great opinion both of learning and sanctitie, as he lay vpon the hearse, while the Di••ige was singing for his funeral, and manie assembled at it three seueral dayes togeather, spake alowde, one day that he was accused, an other day that he was iudged, and the third day that he was condemned. Wherupon Bruno a famous Doctour also of the same Vniuersitie, afrighted, turning to his Schollars sayd: And who then can be sa∣ued, vnlesse he forsake the world? And presently betooke himself with six compa∣niō to a solitarie place about Grenoble, esteeming it the fittest seate to retire him∣self vnto, from the world. And it was reuealed to Hugo Bishop of that Diocese, that their resolution was from God; for as he lay in his bed, he saw (as he thought) the Maiestie of God descending vpon that desert place, and that himself was building a palace for him there, & anone he saw as it were seauen starres of great brightnes to rise by litle & litle from the earth in forme of a Co∣ronet, farre vnlike to anie other starres both in fashion, and situation, and motion.

16. The Institute of the Carmelits,* 1.585 though it were brought into Italie about a thousand two hundred yeares after Christ, yet learned men doe de∣liuer, that it is much more ancient; for we find that Iohn Patriarch of Hieru∣salem in the yeare Foure hundred and twelue, being of this Order and the head of it,* 1.586 wrote a Rule for it; wherby it appeareth, that it should be yet more ancient then ••his time. And there want not those (and among them Waldensis, an approued Authour) that are of opinion, that it began in the Apostles time in Mount Carmelus (and the name sheweth no lesse) in a Church which was the first, that euer was dedicated to the Blessed Virgin our Ladie in this world; and encreasing in number of subiects and houses through-out al Palestine, was dispersed by the Saracens that ouerranne the coūtrey; & they being rooted-out againe, it flourished as before, much about the yeare One thousand one hundred. This is most certain, that about foure-score yeares after this restoring of it, Albert also Patriarch of Hierusalem (a man lear∣ned & wise) restored the Rule which Iohn had instituted, & augmented it very profitably; and about the time I sayd before, Pope Honorius the Third brin∣ging diuers of the Religious of that Order into diuers Prouinces of Eu∣rope, approued and confirmed their Rule, being wished therunto by our B. Ladie appearing vnto him in••••a Vision, as it is reported; and

not long after, Pope Innocent the Fourth made diuers Decrees in fauour of it, and tooke it into the protection and safegard of the Sea Apostolick. A happie Age, not only for the propagation of this Order, but for the instituting of foure other Orders, to wit, the Franciscans, the Dominicans, the Celestines, and the Seruites.

* 1.58717. The Franciscans began in the yeare One thousand two hundred and twelue. For we find that this yeare S. Francis brought his Rule to Pope Inno∣cent the Third, and that it was confirmed by him, they being as yet but few of the Order; but it was half a miracle to see how quickly it encreased; insomuch that not long after there met of them at a General Congregation at Assisi fiue thousand, and at the self-same time there were fiue hundred more that entred among them; so that in a short time they filled the whole world, and are now so manie of them, that being diuided into three branches, euerie branch of them is so populous, that they may seeme euerie one of them to be a great Order of itself.

* 1.58818. The Dominicans haue their name and beginning from S. Dominick, who being first a Canon-Regular vnder the Bishop of Huesca, laboured hard for ten yeares against the Hereticks of Tolouse; and then making some few partakers of his determination, he framed a new Rule and Institute, the end wherof should be to preach the Ghospel, which is the reason they are called Friar••-Preachers. And they write that it was first cōfirmed by word of mouth by Inno∣cent the Third in the time of the Councel of Lateran; and afterwards in writing, by Honorius the Third, in the yeare One thousand two hundred and sixteen.

* 1.58919. Some sixteen yeares after, the Seruites began at Florence, at the time when the Emperour Frederick the Second, being at variance with Pope Gregorie the Ninth, and with the Church, wasted the Pope's territorie by al the meanes he could. For it is recorded, that seauen Gentlemen of worth, and wel able to liue, called by a voyce from heauen retired themselues to a hil that was not farre of, and liuing priuate there for some time, were discouered and made knowne to the world by their vertuous life, wherupon many adioyned them∣selues vnto them; and being afterwards dispersed into seueral Prouinces, are growne to that encrease which we see. They are called Seruites, because they particularly professe themselues Seruants and slaues of the Blessed Virgin.

* 1.59020. Not long after the Celestines were instituted by Peter Morone. This man, as it is recorded of him, liued manie yeares in the Wildernes; but the austeritie of his life, togeather with the manie miracles, which he wrought, made him so famous in Italie, and throughout al Europe, that manie putting themselues vnder his conduct, they were distributed afterwards into seueral houses and countryes. And there being at that time a General Councel at Lions, and Pope Gregorie the Tenth present at it in person, he went thither, and procured his Rule and Institute to be approued by him in the yeare One thousand two hundred seauentie three. But the reason why they are called Celestines is, be∣cause this very man some twentie yeares after being made Pope, called himself Celestin the Fifth, and euer after that name of his remayned to his Order.

* 1.59121. We must not let passe the Croches-Fr••ars, the beginnings of which Or∣der two Popes, Alexander the Third, and the Sixt, in their seueral Breues, d•••• deriue from Cletus, S. Peter his successour; not that they liued in the manner 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉

them, which now we see, but that there was in those times a Companie in∣stituted for the entertayning of Pilgrims that were Christians, specially if they were poore; which Companie being impaired by the cruel persecutions of those first Tyrants, and chiefly by Iulian the Apostat, Vrban the Second resto∣red it in the time, when Christian Princes armed with the signe of the Crosse, went against the Barbarians, and happily recouered Antioch and Hierusalem. Alexander the Third afterwards did them manie great fauours, in regard that in his flight from Frederick Aenobarbe, they often and liberally entertayned him in their Hospitals, notwithstanding the sharp orders of the Emperour to the contrarie. Lastly Pius the Second in the yeare One thousand foure hundred and three-score, in a Councel at Mantua, when he was preparing a voyage to the Holie land, appointed that they should weare a purple Habit (it is not certain wherefore) wheras before they went in ash-coulour.

21. The beginnings of the Order of Mount-Oliuet in Italie are also famous.* 1.592 Blessed Bernard Tolomens is sayd to haue been the Authour of it, togeather with two others, whom he stirred-vp with an eloquent Oration, which in the Academic of Siena, where he was publick Reader of Philosophie, he made of the Vanitie of the world, as it were bidding it Adieu. For presently they retired themselues from companie to a hil not farre of, which was called Oliuet (from which the Order taketh that name) to the end they might with better com∣moditie attend to a heauenlie life. This was in the yeare One thousand three hundred and twentie. And their feruour & strict liuing soone spred their fame, and drew others to imitate their course of life.

22. Not long after, to wit, in the yeare One thousand three hundred fiftie six,* 1.593 there began an other Order in the same citie of Siena, called the Iesuati. The founder of them was Ioannes Columbinus, who is sayd to haue been con∣uerted by reading the life of S. Marie of Aegypt, vpon which he had fallen by chance, and suddenly changed therupon, lead a most holie life, ful of good works, and specially of the denial and contempt of himself; when diuers others following the same course, Pope Vrban the Fift returning out of France em∣braced them louingly as a new and tender of-spring of the Church of Christ, and gaue them manie priuiledges.

23. Much about the same time the Order of the Heremits of S. Hierome sprung vp,* 1.594 which flourisheth chiefly in Spayne and Portugal. Peter Fernandez is sayd to haue been the founder of them. For leauing the Court of Peter King of Cast••le, in whose fauour he was both for his owne and his father's seruices, he first ioyned himself to certain Heremits, that liued a solitarie life; afterwards to∣geather with some others, to whom he communicated his resolution, he tooke vpon him the Rule which S. Hierome first began in the cittie of Bethleem, and was afterwards continued for a long time, but as then decayed; and this he did first in the Prouince of Toledo. Then coming to Rome he brought this his now Rule to Gregorie the Eleuenth, who was then Pope, in the yeare One thousand three hundred eightie foure, which when it was confirmed by him, it quickly encreased in number of subiects and houses.

24. After these againe there arose the Minimes, about the yeare One thou∣sand ••oure hundred and fiftie;* 1.595 people that in their life and Rule professe the un••••l••tie, which their name maketh shew of. The head and Authour of this

Order was Francis of Paula (a towne in Calabria) a man rare for Vertue, and as rare for a kind of facilitie, which he had of working miracles; so ordinarie with him, that we may say, he did them alwayes at his pleasure. Wherfore it is no wonder that his Order also graced with such a Founder, doth flourish so in Italie and, Spayne, and chiefly in France, and is so conspicuous in the world, that it may deseruedly stand in comparison with those that are more ancient.

Of the Religious Orders of the Clergie. CHAP. XXIII.

IF that be true, which we haue sayd aboue of the manner of life, which the Apostles held, and of the perfection professed in those times, as it is most certain; there was not only anciently a Reli∣gious Order of Clergie, but absolutly the first Religious men that euer were, were of the Clergie. For seing Religion consisteth in three Vowes,* 1.596 which I haue often mentioned, and both Reason and Authoritie conuinceth that the Apostles made them, why may we not say, & indeed openly maintaine, that they were Religious, and that Religious courses haue their ori∣gine & beginning from them. And vpon the like certain grounds, we may also affirme the same almost of the whole Clergie of those dayes; for taking exam∣ple by the Apostles, it was wholy framed and bred-vp to the like perfection. And as for Chastitie there is no doubt to be made, but they did vow it, when they tooke Holie Orders;* 1.597 for though some tooke Orders that had their wiues yet liuing, yet (as Medina and manie others affirme and proue) they were wont in that case to imitate the Apostles, who (as we sayd before) did voluntarily barre themselues of the vse of marriage. And euerie one of them vowed Obedience to his Bishop: wherof among other proofes, we haue this euident signe,* 1.598 that, as Sulpitius recordeth, S Hilarie hauing taken an af∣fection to S. Martin by reason of his vertuous disposition, could think of no stronger meanes to oblige him, and bind him to his seruice, then by putting him into Holie Orders. and S. Gregorie obserueth,* 1.599 that euen in his time it was stil a custome in Rome, that in whatsoeuer Church a man had taken Orders, it was not free for him afterwards to departe from it. And both these things are to this day in vse in holie Church. For they that take Holie Orders, are obliged by solemne Vow to liue chaste, and they expresly pro∣mise Obedience to their Bishop though vse and practise hath giuen a large scope to this second Vow; for wheras in those dayes they obeyed their Bishop exactly in al things, now they are obliged but in very few. But the Vow of Chasti••ie hath now as much force among them, as it hath among Religious pe••ple and maketh their marriage not only vnlawful, but absolutly voyde. As for P••uertie, if we regard that, which is now in vse, it were hard to proue it▪ but if we cast our eye vpon that which was anciently practised, nothing is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cleer. For anciently it was the order, that the Clergie should yeald vp their liue-lode, if they had anie, and possesse nothing in

priuate to themselues. Wherof S. Hierome giueth good testimonie, yealding this for the reason, why from the beginning of the Church the Clergie did shaue their crownes;

to signifie, sayth he, the casting-of al temporal things, because contenting themselues with food and cloathing, they ought to haue nothing proper, but al things common.

2. S. Prosper,* 1.600 an ancient writer, reporteth the same. It is fitting, sayth he, to haue possessions of the Church, & to contemne one's owne, for the loue of per∣fection

For the possessions of the Church are not our owne▪ but common; & therefore euerie one that contemneth his owne, forsaking or selling that which he had, if he be chosen Prelat of a Church, he is made steward of whatsoeuer the Church hath.

And beingeth the example of S. Paulinu•• and S. Hilarie, who selling their patrimonie, distributed the money among the poore, & being after∣wards both of them created Bishops, did carefully menage the Church-liuings.

3. That the Clergie did liue in common,* 1.601 may be proued both by what we haue sayd, and by the Epistle of S. Clement Pope to the Clergie of Hierusalem, where he sayth: It is necessarie for euerie one to liue in common, but spe∣cially for them that desire to serue God,* 1.602 and to imitate the life of the Apostles, and of their Disciples. S. Gregorie also writing to S. Augustin, willeth him to bring in among the Clergie of the Church of England (which was then bud∣ding) the manner of conuersation which was practised by our fore-fathers in the Primitiue Church,* 1.603 when no bodie called anie things his owne, but the pos∣sessons,* 1.604 which they had, were al common among them. And among the Ca∣nons of Eugenia the Second, we find a Decree commanding, that the Clergie should haue one Refectorie,* 1.605 one Dormitorie, and so of the rest of the Offices. Finally that they were obliged to these things by Vow, Pope Viban testifyeth in his Epistle to al Bishops,* 1.606 when after diuers other things, directing his speach to the Clergie, he sayth thus:

Whosoeuer among you hath vndertaken a com∣mon life, and vowed that he hath nothing proper, let him take heed that he make not his promise voyd, but keepe carefully that which he hath promised God, that he may not heape vpon himself damnation, but merit; because it is better not to vow, then not to performe his Vow.

4. By al which we may see, that in those dayes either al the Clergie, or in a manner al, specially they that did ayme at greater perfection, did make these three Vowes, and consequently were truly Religious men. In which also Di∣uines doe agree;* 1.607 and in particular Medina (a learned Authour handling this question of purpose) bringeth manie proofes for it, and among others, con∣fi••meth it by the name of Canons which is yet in vse,* 1.608 and is as much to say, as Regulars. And moreouer he sayth, that the case of the Parish-Priest was also the same,* 1.609 and that it was not fr••e for them neither to possesse anie thing as their owne; but that in regard they must necessarily liue at large in their Parish, and could not be with the communitie among the rest, they were exempted; much af••er the manner that now adayes Monks are, when by command of their Superiours they are sent to gouerne a Parish. Thus he; and addeth that Po∣uertie, in which Religion consisteth, was so proper to the Clergie, that it was rather by sufferance,* 1.610 that they began to haue anie thing proper. And proueth it by tha saying of S. Augustin, wh•• in one of his Ser∣mons of the Common life of the Clergie sayth,

that heert••••ore he was

of a mind not to take anie into the Clergie, but those that would leade their life in common; but afterwards he altered his mind, least (which was worse) anie through hypocrisie; & dissembling should breake the Rule, and not satisfye his promise; and therfore from thence forward he would admit a man into the Clergie, though he would not liue in common.

Out of which Medina doth argue, that the nature of the State requireth, that a man should professe Pouer∣tie; and if al did not doe it, it was by sufferance and dispensation.

* 1.6115. And I imagin that the causes of this relaxation might be two: First, the great encrease of the number of the Clergie; for the number of Christians growing to that height, that they could not be holpen by few, and it being also a great ornament to the Church to haue manie Ministers, the feruour and zeale of perfection could not be so wel maintayned in so great a number. An other reason might be, because the farther times grew from the primitiue state of the Church, Charitie and the loue of God grew also more cold among men, self-loue and the affection to priuate commodities taking place; so that it was hard to keepe al the Clergie to that strict denial of al things; and yet some, that had more courrage and more feruour, maintayned it, and so applyed them∣selues to the functions of the Clergie, that they performed also the offices of Religious people,* 1.612 and kept their wonted orders exactly. S. Ambrose com∣mendeth Eusebius Bishop of Vercels for his diligence in this kind, ordering his Clergie so,

that (as he speaketh) he required of them two things togeather: the continencie of the Monasterie, and the discipline of the Church. These being different in themselues, Eusebius (of holie memorie) first ioyned togeather in the Western part▪ & dwelling in the cittie, kept the orders of Monks, & gouerned his Church with sobrietie of fasting. For it doth greatly aduance the grace of a Priest, if he bind youth to the practise of Abstinence and the rule of Integritie, and barre them that dwel in the cittie, from the vse and conuersation of the cittie.

Thus speaketh S Ambrose of Eusebius; making him, if we marke it, not absolutly the first Authour of this manner of liuing, but the erectour of it in the Western parts only; for it flourished in other Countries long before; as we find by that which P••s••d••nius writeth in the Life of S. Augustin,* 1.613 where he telleth vs, that S. Augustin practised it, erecting a Monasterie within his Church, where al liued at common charge, and did eate at the same table, and no bodie called anie thing his owne; and moreouer addeth, that this fashion of liuing, was first brought-in vnder the holie Apostles.* 1.614 Pope Pius the Fourth speaketh to the same effect, when in a Bulle of his decreing certain things for the honour of the Canon-Regulars, he giueth this reason: because this Order was instituted by the Apostles. Nauarre cites the Bulle, and addeth manie things to like purpose. So that S Augustin also was not so much the first Founder as the restorer or Re∣former of this Religious Order of the Clergie; and I meete with no man, that maketh anie doubt, but that the Order, which he did institute, is the same Order of the Canon-Regulars, which euen now I mentioned. For when S. Augustin dyed, and the cittie of Hippo was destroyed by the Wandals, Gela••i••s, an African borne, came to Rome with some Religious of that Order, and himself bein•• afterwards made Pope, his Companions perseuered in the Re∣ligious, course, which they had begunne; and the Church of Lateran was assigned them for their dwelling. Wherof we finde good testimonie to

this day both in the ruines of that Monasterie, and in some of the Popes Bul∣les, and specially of Pope Eugenius the Fourth.* 1.615 And it is vpon record, that their employments were to say Masse, to preach to the people, to minister the Sa∣craments vnto them, and finally to performe al Priestlie and Apostolical fun∣ctions, liuing in common togeather vnder Obedience to one Prouost or Su∣periour, and hauing nothing of their owne. And it is certain, that Bonifacius the Eighth was the first that rem••ued these Canon-Regulars from their house at Lateran, after they had had possession of i•• neere vpon eight hundred yea∣res, and placed Secular Canons in their roome, giuing euerie one of them his part of the rents, which before were in common. And we haue manie proofes, that this Institute was not only in vse in Rome, but in most countries besides. For S. Dominick in Spayne was first for a time a Canon-Regular, and the Life and Epistles of S. Bernard shew that there were manie of them in his time in France▪* 1.616 for he relateth diuers things of them. There was therefore in those dayes this onlie Institute of the Regular Clergie, for ought we know, to wit, the Canon-Regulars, as I haue sayd. But in this our Age, by the special pro∣uidence and wil of God, diuers other Orders haue sprung-vp much of the same kinde, and much to the aduancement of the Church, al of them labou∣ring in the cultiuating therof, as in the Vineyard of our Lord, so much the more feruently and chearfully, and with more fruit, by how much they come vnto it with new strength and vigour, and, as fresh work-men, lesse wearied.

6. In which number we may with reason place this our Societie of IE••VS; which God in these latter dayes hath brought to light, to wit, in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred and fourtie, for in that yeare it was confirmed by Pope Paulus and Third, and established by decree of the Apostolick Sea. We wil here say nothing of the Founder therof, nor what beginnings it had, be∣cause t••ings are f••esh in memorie, and knowne to euerie bodie. Only I wil shew briefly, after what manner it endeauoureth to couple Religious disci∣pline with the functions of the Clergie, embracing, as much as may be, that which is best and principal in both the kinds of life. For whereas Religion chiefly consisteth in Pouertie, in forsaking the world, in departing from ••lesh and bl••••d, and in perpetual Obedience (which we may worthily cal the prin∣cipal part of Religion,* 1.617 and as it were the Essence of it) the Societie of IESVS embraceth al these things, and in particular so exact Obedience, that it ben∣deth al the forces it hath to the perfect practise and exercise therof; yet it ma∣keth account, that Obedience and to be eminent in the perfect abnegation of our wil and iudgement, is the peculiar marke, whereby the true and right children and subiects of the Societie are knowne and distinguished from al others. Now as for the manner of liuing of the Clergie, if we wil goe solidly to worke, we must chiefly haue an eye to that, which was instituted by the Apostles, as our heauenlie Maisters, which doubtles was very different from that, which now we see. For anciently it attended to the functions only of teaching and preaching the Ghospel, of instructing the ignorant in Christian doctrine, of ministring the Sacraments, and, in a word, to purge, illuminate, and perfect the soules of others; by which three••old employment the Ecclesia∣stical Hierarchie resembled the Angelical, which is in heauen. The same kind of exercises, ou•• Order hath vndertaken to put in practise, next after the sauing

and perfecting their owne soules, attending to help and perfect their Neigh∣bour, by word and worke, in priuate and in publick, at home and abroad, finally by al conuenient meanes that may be. Neither is it contrarie to the ancient practise of the Clergie,* 1.618 that in our Schooles we apply ourselues to the teaching of children.* 1.619 For we finde it decreed in ancient Councels, that Priests and Monks should haue schooles in their Monasteries and Churches, where the Faythful might send their children. And S. Basil mo∣uing this verie question,* 1.620 Whether it be sitting, that among the Monks there be some Maisters to teach Secular children, he answered that it is very sitting and agrea∣ble to the Ghospel, so it be done to the end, that togeather with lear∣ning, they be taught deuotion and the feare of God. And there want not examples of manie Monks and Monastical Orders, that haue had Schooles, not only for their owne, but to teach secular people also; whereby this, which I say, may be confirmed. And so much concerning our Societie.

* 1.6217. But to returne to the Orders of the Regular Clergie in general, we may easily guesse by what hath been sayd, how laudable a thing it is, to cou∣ple two so profitable and excellent courses togeather, and how much it is to be desired. For the Order of the Clergie, and the Order of the Monks, are as it were two eyes, or two hands, or armes of the Church, wherof it hath vse in al occasions, both of them noble and excellent in themselues, and so fraught with their seueral commodities belonging to each of them, that whosoeuer shal compare them togeather, wil finde that they surpasse and are surpassed againe by one another. For in the Clergie the labour and industrie, wherewith they employ themselues towards their Neighbour, is remarkable, their diligence in preaching and opposing themselues to the power of the Diuel, and aduancing the glorie of God; their Priestlie Order and function, and the handling of the sacred Mysteries belonging therunto. In Monks we admire their Pouertie, hauing nothing, possessing nothing; the br••therlie loue and louing charitie and vnion which is among them, being, as it were, of manie members one bodie; the mutual assistance, which they haue by one another; their Obedience to Superiours, togeather with the lowlines of the state itself, and humilitie and other fruits, which Obedience bringeth. So that each of the states hauing manie excellencies proper to themselues, which ar•• not in each other, what an excellent kinde of life must that needs be, which ioyneth them both togeather, and enioyeth the excellen∣cies ••f them both, togeather with the ca••e of their owne soules, which is pro∣per to M••nks, attending also to the benefit and perfection of their Neighbour, which is the busines of the Clergie? And so much the more, because the ioy∣ning of them togeather bringeth also more plentiful fruit in them both, then when they are exercised seuerally. For God doth bestow his gr••ces in greater abundance, when they are directed to the aduancing of his glorie in others; & (ordinarily speaking) the nearer the instrument of these spiritual effects is conioyned with God the principal Cause & Authour of them, the more be∣nefit they worke in our Neighbour; and the coniunction is wrought by vertue, and chiefly by Humilitie and Obedience, both which belong intrin∣secally to a Religi••us State.

8. But let vs spare our owne, and heare how S. Ambrose discourseth

of both these liues,* 1.622 comparing them togeather.

Who maketh anie doubt, sayth he, but that these two, to wit, the functions of the Clergie, and the orders of Monks, are to be preferred before al the earnest deuotion, which is practised among Christians? the exercises of the Clergie being ordayned to ciuil and humane conuersation; the Monks accustoming themselues to abstinence and patience. They are seated, as it were, in the open theater of the world; these liue priuate and secret: euerie bodie's eyes are vpon them, these are hidden from euerie bodie. Therefore that noble Champion sayth: We are made a spectacle to this world. They are in the race, these are within the listes. They striue against the confusednes of this world, these against the desires of the flesh. They conquer the pleasures of the bodie, these doe shunne them. Their life is more pleasing, this is more safe; they gouerne, these restraine; yet both denye themselues, that they may be Christ's, because it is sayd to the perfect: He that wil come after me, let him denye himself and take vp his Crosse, and follow me. That life therefore fighteth, this stande••h aloofe; that ouercometh the allurements, this auoy∣deth them; that triumpheth ouer the world, this bannisheth it; that cru∣cifyeth, or is crucifyed to, the world, this doth not know it; that abideth more assaults, and therefore the victorie is the greater; this falleth seldomer, and preserueth itself more easily.

Thus S. Ambrose, whereby we may cleare∣ly see that which I sayd a litle before, how rare that course of life must needs be, where the excellencies of both these states are vnited togeather, seing that seuerally they haue so manie commendations in them, that it cannot but be an excellent thing to embrace either of them. And doubtles it is a hard peece of busines, and a maister-worke to conioyne them; but nothing is hard to God, with whome no word is impossible.

Of the great multitude of Religious, and Religious Orders. CHAP. XXIV.

HAVING discoursed briefly of the beginning and pro∣gresse of Religious Orders, we wil spend a litle time in considering the number and varietie of the branches of them. For who is there, that calling to minde the infinite multitude of them, that haue professed this kinde of life in al Ages almost of the Ghospel, wil not greatly admire and be euen astonished? We haue spoken before of S. Antonie,* 1.623 whose fame and example drew so manie to forsake the world, & giue them∣selues to a solitarie life, euen while the superstitiō of the Heathē, was yet strong in al coūtries,* 1.624 that we may truly say of that Age with the Royal Prophet: Thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉 blesse the crowne of the yeare of thy benignitie, the fairenes of the desert wil grow fa••, & the hillocks wil be gyrt with exultation.* 1.625 Let vs set before our eyes that which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 A••hmasius writeth of him and his disciples in his Life.

Vpon the hil, sayth he, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 were Monasteries like tabernacles, ful of Celestial Quiers of people that spent their

time in singing of Psalmes, in reading, and praying; and occupying a great ex∣tent of land, they made as it were a towne among themselues, seuered from worldlie conuersation. Who is there, that beholding such a world of Monks, and taking into his consideration that heroical companie of people agreing in one, where there was neuer an il-one, no detraction, but a multitude of fol∣lowers of Abstinence, and a continual striuing in matter of Pietie and good offices, would not presently breake forth into those words? How good are thy houses,* 1.626 Iacob, and thy tabernacles, Israel? as woods that giue shadow, as a garden vpon riuers, as tents pitched by God, as Cedars of Libanus neere the waters.

* 1.6272. The like we may say of S. Hilarion; who, as S. Hierome writeth founded about the same time Monasteries in Palestine without number; and of Maca∣rius a disciple of S. Antonie's,* 1.628 renowned for sanctitie, and a Father of very manie,* 1.629 that followed his foot-steps. Of Cariton also it is recorded, that he built diuers Monasteries in Palestine;* 1.630 and stil as he had finished them, he retired himself further into the desert.* 1.631 We reade that Isidorus was gouernour of a thou∣sand Monks in one Monasterie.* 1.632 And Apollonius afterwards in the same Mo∣nasterie enlarged, had fiue thousand vnder him. And vpon a hil of Nu••••••, about a dayes iourney from Alexandria, there were fiue hundred Monasteries, that stood almost wal to wal, & al of them were directed by one Maister or Pre∣sident. Palladius an anciēt Authour,* 1.633 and an eye-witnes of manie of these things, relateth in the historie of his Pilgrimage, that he saw a Cittie, in which there were more Monasteries then Secular houses; so that euerie street and corner ringing with the Diuine prayses, which those seruants of God did sing, the whole Cittie seemed a Church. He also testifyeth, that he saw an infinit mul∣titude of Monks in Memphis and Babylon, al of them singular for diuers guists of the Holie-Ghost; and that not farre from Thebae he met with Ammon, who was Father of three thousand Monks. What shal we say of S. Pacomius,* 1.634 who flourished about foure hundred yeares after Christ? of whome we reade, that in seueral houses standing not fa••re asunder from one another, he had seauen thousand disciples; and in the house, wherein himself liued, he had aboue a thousand with him, and al these he diuided into foure and twentie Companies, according to the foure and twentie letters of the Christs-crosse-row, that he might the better take an account of them. Palladius also writeth, that he saw Serapion▪* 1.635 when he had ten thousand Monks vnder him, distributed into seueral houses. And S. Herome in the Epitaph of Paula maketh mention,* 1.636 that when she went into the desert to visit those holie Fathers, there met her (as he spea∣keth) innumerable troupes of seruants of God; and that she was so taken with that sight, that forgetting her sex, she had a great desire to dwel amidst so manie thousands of Monks. And whose Celle (sayth he) did not she goe into•• at whose feete did she not cast her self? she made account, she saw Christ in euerie Saint.

* 1.6373. And as the number of Monks was infinit, the multitude of Religious women was litle lesse; as we finde recorded chiefly by Theodoret in the end of his Religious Historie; where he sayth, that there were infinit Monasteries of them throughout al the Eastern parts, in Palestine, in Aegypt, in Asia, Pon••••••, Cilicia, Syria, and in Europe also. Because, sayth he, since our Sauiour was

borne of a Virgin-mother, the fresh fields of Virginitie are euerie where mul∣tiplyed.

4. And to the end we may not thinke,* 1.638 that in so great a number there was much disorder and confusion, as it falleth-out in a throng of people, it wil not be amisse to set before our eyes that which S. Hierome writeth of the or∣der of those times. The first thing they agree vpon, sayth he, is to obey their Superiours, and to performe whatsoeuer they shal command.

They are di∣stinguished by tens and hundreds, so that euerie tenth man is ouer the nine, and againe the hundredth Superiour hath ten gouernours vnder him; euerie one liues by himself alone, but their Celles are close one to another. Their or∣der is, that til the Ninth Houre they goe not to one another, vnlesse it be the Decurion•• I mentioned, to comfort those, that are vnder their charge, if anie one of them chance to be troubled in his thoughts. After the Ninth Houre they meete al togeather, they sing Psalmes, they reade the Scrip∣ture as it is prescribed them, and when they haue ended their prayers, they al sit downe; and he, whome they cal their Father, standing in the middle of them, beginneth his speach. While he speaketh, there is such silence, that they dare not looke vpon one another, nor spit. The commendation of the speaker, be the teares of the hearers; their teares trickle softly downe their cheek••s, and their grief breakes not fo••••h into sighes. Then the meeting breaketh-vp, and euerie companie sits downe at board with the Father of it, and they wayte vpon one another by weekes. There is no noyse, while they are at their meate; no bodie speaketh while he eateth. Then they rise al togeather, and hauing sayd Grace, they returne to their Celles. There til euening they dis∣course euerie one with those of his owne Companie, and say: Did you not marke this man or the other? what a grace he hath? how great his silence was? how graue was his carriage? If they perceaue anie bodie to be weake, they com∣fort him; if feruent in the loue of God, they exhort him to follow it. And be∣cause, setting aside the times of publick prayer, euerie one watcheth in the night in his owne Celle, they goe to euerie Celle; and laying their care, they listen carefully what they are doing. If they finde anie one more slow then others, they doe not rebuke him, but taking no notice that they know anie thing of it, they visit him oftener; & beginning themselues first, rather encou∣rage then compel him to pray.

Thus S. Hierome writeth of them, & much more to the same effect.

5. Let vs returne to our former discourse of the multitude of them; which we must not attribute so to the happie fruitfulnes of those times,* 1.639 as to thinke, that with time also it shrunk away. For we finde the like encrease of number in S. Benedict's dayes, & also in later Ages. Tritemius, who liued about the yeare One thousand foure hundred and foure-score, speaking of the encrease of his Order, bringeth for proofe therof,* 1.640 that in his time in the onlie Prouince of Ments there were one hundred and twentie foure intire Abbyes yet standing, besides ten others, that were drawne out of them; so that by this one Prouince we may guesse at the largenes of the whole Order. And it is no wonder there should be so manie, if we consider, what he adde••h further, that there was a time, when they had fifteene thousand Abbyes,* 1.641 besides Priories and other less••r Monaste∣ries. S. Bernard also in the Life of S. Malachie recordeth that in Ireland there was

a Monasterie,* 1.642 the head of manie Monasteries, out of which manie thousands of Monks had been bred; and sayth further of it thus:

A holie place indeed, and fruitful of Saints, bringing forth abundant fruit to God, insomuch that one onlie childe of that holie Congregation, whose name was Luanus,* 1.643 is reported to haue been himself alone Founder of a hundred Monasteries; which I speake, that by this one the Reader may gather, how infinit the rest of the multitude was. In brief, the branches therof haue so filled both Ireland and Scotland, as we may thinke, that those verses of Dauid did chiefly foretel of these times: Thou hast visited the earth,* 1.644 and made it drunk; thou hast multiplied to enrich 〈◊〉〈◊〉; and in like manner the rest, which followeth. And these swarmes of Saints haue not only spread themselues in the Countries aforesayd, but haue also, as it were, ouerflowne into forraine parts.* 1.645 For S. Columbanus coming from thence into this our Countrie of France built the Monasterie of Luxouium, and raysed there a great people. And thereport is, that the number of them was so great, that they continued among themselues the Diuine Seruice day and night, one companie succeeding stil an other,* 1.646 that there was not a minut of time free from singing prayse to God.

This S. Bernard relateth of others; and we may say the like of himself and his Familie; for in a short time it encreased so fast, that it was euen a miracle to see it. For while he was at Clairenaulx, and his companie was as yet but smal, he saw in a Vision a multitude of people of seueral states and con∣ditions and in seueral attires flocking downe the adiacent hils in that abun∣dance, that the place was not able to contayne them.

* 1.6476. What shal we say of later Orders, especially of the Franciscans, who seeme to haue been particularly blessed in this suddaine and large propagation of their Order. For whereas they are distinguished into seueral branches, al deri∣ued from one Founder S. Francis, the sole Order of the Obseruantines, as they cal them, did reckon of late yeares, that they were in number about a hundred thousand Religious. Finally it wil not be hard to shew, that the number of Re∣ligious people in these our dayes is in a manner infinit; and there is apparent reason for it,* 1.648 besides that we may see it with our eyes. For Religious Orders ha∣uing flourished now so manie Ages, so manie of them anciently instituted, so manie new ones growne-vp in succeding times, those of old haue stil cōtinued, and the new ones haue been dayly encreased to an excessiue number. Which makes me think, that the number of Religious people cannot only not be lesse then anciently it was, when there was such abundance of them, but must needs be somewhat greater then in those times. It may be, that then the num∣ber of them made a greater shew, because al that would be Religious, betooke themselues to two or three Orders (for in those dayes there were no more) now we doe not reflect so much vpon the great number of them, because they are diuided into manie Houses and Families. And what greater commendation can we desire, or proofe of the excellencie of this kind of life? This being in a manner the selfsame blessing, which anciently God promised to the Iewes, as an euident token of his fauour and presence with them; My eye shal be vpon you, and I wil make you encrease;* 1.649 you shal be multiplyed, and I wil confirme my couenant with you.

5. Yea it is an apparent signe of great perfection; for as by course of nature, a thing must first be rightly composed, and growne to perfection in the kind

it is in,* 1.650 before it bring forth an other like vnto it; as we see in al herbes and plants, and more apparently in al kinds of beasles & in men also: insomuch that the abilitie of engendring an other, is a signe of abundant strength & vertue in the thing it engendreth: so in this supernatural kind of life, this excessiue en∣crease, which I speake of, argueth abundance of great perfection and san∣ctitie, which were not much to be admired, if Religion were a course of licentiousnes and libertie, which worketh much vpon Sense, and draweth the flesh & bloud after it. But it is quite cōtrarie; for it taketh those things quite away, which are anie way pleasing to our bodie, and prescribeth others, which are opposite to Nature, as pouertie, paynes-taking, contempt of our selues, voluntarie afflictions, and a perpetual carrying of our Crosse. So that this great concourse to Religion generally of yong people, wel borne, and wel bred, in those yeares and that education, which naturally abhorres al hardnes and au∣steritie, must needs be a signe, that there is something Diuine in Religion, and there can be no other cause giuen of it.

8. Moreouer the multitude of Religious Orders is a great ornament to the Church of God.* 1.651 For, as S. Bernard doth rightly and prudently ob∣serue, the Church distinguished into so manie different Orders, is as the Queene, of whome we reade in the Psalme, that she was clad round with varietie;* 1.652 and in it we behold the garment of seueral colours, not of that Ioseph who saued Aegypt, but of him that saued the world; and a garment without seame,* 1.653 in regard both of the inuiolable charitie, and the vniforme difformitie which is in it. And besides this beautie, which S. Bernard heer speaketh of, it is a great honour, and a great benefit to the Church. An honour, because as in the Courts of Princes, so in this Court of the Eternal God, which is the Church, it is both honourable and Maiestical to haue seueral degrees of seruants, distributed into seue∣ral ranks, and different both in their attire, and offices; and it doth much set-forth the glorie, and seruice of God, and of CHRIST our Bride▪groome; and for the Church his Spouse and Bride, nothing could be more glorious of more magnificent, then to resemble in this so neere the order and varietie of the heauenlie Hierusalem; in which there is not one Order of Angels only, but manie Orders, manie Hierarchies of those Blessed Spirits, like in nature, and yet different in degree and office, con∣spiring al in the perpetual seruice of God.* 1.654 To which purpose S. Thomas sayth both learnedly and wittily, that as in natural things God made such varie∣tie of them, to the end that the seueral qualities and perfections, which are in them, might be the more knowne, the more they were dispersed into ma∣nie particulars:

So in the order of Grace, the multiplying of States, and Offices, and Functions, makes that the fulnes of Grace, which flowes from CHRIST our Lord and Sauiour, as from the head and fountaine, is cōmunicated to more particulars, & in more differēt fashions. By which, CHRIST himself is doubtles more glorified in regard that both the force of his merit, & his liberalitie in gi∣uing, is much more conspicuous to the world by this meanes.

And addoth, that the beautie of the Church is also much encreased and graced by it, as we touched before; because Order is of itself a comelie and graceful thing, and Order cannot be but among manie; and he accommodateth that saying of

the Apostle to this purpose: In a great house there are not only vessels of gold and siluer, but of wood, and earth.

* 1.6559. And doubtles it is also a great benefit to the Church, because euerie Religious Order proposing some particular thing to itself, at which it chiefly aymeth,* 1.656 it compasseth that, which it hath in hand, better and with more per∣fection; because it attendeth wholy to that one thing. For manie businesses be of that nature, that they hinder one an other; others are more easily and more sweetly brought to perfection, if they be vndertaken seuerally. Wherefore, as Aristotle sayth, the bodie of man is naturally framed so, as euerie Sense hath a seueral member, and instrument, as it were, appointed for it, to the end they might not hinder one an other,* 1.657 if there were occasion to exercise seueral functions at one time: so in the functions of Grace, it did much more beseeme the bountiful and magnificent wisdome of God to distribute to se∣ueral particulars the work and reward, which he hath appointed. And as it is both decent and beneficial for a Cittie to haue trades-men of seueral profes∣sions, some working in wool, others in iron, or timber, and the like, to the end al may haue sufficient to cloath and maintaine themselues; and not only there be seueral trades on foot, but seueral particulars working at one trade and occupation, to the end things may be the more plentiful; so in this spi∣ritual Cittie of God, because very manie things are required to bring a man to Heauen, out of his infinite wisdome he hath prouided, that we should haue plentie of them by meanes of the seueral Religious Orders which are erected.

10. The Church of God stood in need of Prayers, to releeue it in al dangers and difficulties that doe occurre, and for a continual defence and rampire in al occasions. Therefore God prouided certain Orders that should employ them∣selues wholy in Contemplation of Heauenlie things. It needed Fastings and other austerities, both to appease the wrath of God bent against the sinnes of men, and that they might haue good example to imitate. To which purpose there are other Orders founded, which giue themselues most to this kind of ••igorous life, professing it in their outward habit, and long abstinence, and ext••came pouertie. It wanted Sermons and teachers, and some that might pri∣uately instruct the people, and heare Confessions. The prouidence of God hath furnished al these, and appointed seueral work-men for them, giuing them both wil and abilitie to performe euerie one his seueral function: whereby this Cittie of God, as I stiled it before, hath al the helps, which can be thought either necessarie or vseful for out eternal welfare.

11. And there is one thing in it worthie to be obserued, because it shewes the goodnes of God very apparently, & his particular prouidence ouer man-kind. For as when a sick man hath lost his stomack,* 1.658 the Physicians as much as they can, doe order such meates for him, as he hath least auersion from, and doe pro∣pose of themselues diuers kinds vnto him, that he may take a liking to some one of them: so because secular people through multiplicitie of earthlie busi∣nesses had lost their appetite to heauenlie things, and al desire and feeling of them, God of purpose hath prouided, as it were, seueral spiritual dishes, dressed and seasoned by particular men seueral wayes, that they, that could not away with one, might be taken with an other.

12. An other reason also might be, and that very necessarie, because God out of his infinit goodnes would prouide for al, and as it were prepare the way for euerie bodie, that had a mind to be perfect in vertue. For people are of seueral natures and dispositions, seueral inclinations and abilities, euen of bodie. Some loue to be alone, others in companie; some cannot abide to haue litle or nothing to doe, others cannot away with businesses; some haue their health wel, others are but weake, and are not able to take much paynes, or endure anie hardnes, so that euerie one of these was to be prouided for, and to haue as it were a seueral diet by himself, which might agree with his health and complexion; and the sweetnes of the prouidence of Almightie God, which he alwayes vseth, and neuer fayleth-of in the gouernement of mankind, could not but order it in this manner.

13. And finally his Diuine wisdome, in this multiplication of Religious Orders, had a respect also in the prouision of new supplyes to the Church, which being fresh and intire, might themselues fight the more valiantly, and encourage others also to pul-vp their spirits, who were perhaps euen wearie with fighting. For it is ordinarie, that they, who come last, are more feruent, and either by their example, or for shame, or for other reasons, others take hart and courrage by seing them: by which meanes, feruour is alwayes main∣tayned in the Church of God, because these new sparkes, which euer and anone are added, keepe life and fire in it.

Of diuers Religious men, that haue been eminent both in learning and sanctitie. CHAP. XXV.

AS among the proofes for the Catholick Church it is none of the least, that so manie eminent men haue been of it, of whome it is scarce credible that anie one much lesse that al should erre; so in my opinion, we may vse the like argument in commendation of a Religious course,* 1.659 that seing so manie rare men haue embraced it, their sole example and authoritie is forcible enough to conuince that it deserueth al prayse and honour, specially the number of them being so great, that if we would stand to reckon-vp al, that haue been conspicuous for learning and sanctitie in the whole Church of God, we should without al question find, that the greater part of them al haue been Religious For if Religion brought them to so much eminencie in both these rare qualities; what can be better, what more beneficial then a Religious state? If being before so eminently qualifyed they betooke themselues not∣withstanding to Religion, this were ground sufficient to extol a Religious course, that men so eminent would professe that kind of life; such men, I say, as it cannot but be both safe and commendable to follow them. And if whole Citties and Countries doe esteeme it a glorie to haue had some one or two

among their inhabitants, singular for Learning, or Militarie discipline, and keep them vpon record in their Annals and Chronicles, boasting themselues of them to al posteritie, as if the prowesse of one particular man did redound to the honour of the whole communitie; how much more reason hath Religion to glorie and boast itself of so manie rare men, that haue been bred in it? For it is but by chance, that a man was borne at Rome, or at Athens; and he, that was borne there, had no part of his choice in it: but these men entred into Re∣ligion vpon good consideration & of set purpose, because they knew the good that was in it. So that the more eminent they were, the more honour they did Religion by embracing it; first, because they would neuer haue set their affec∣tion that wayes, but that they knew it deserued al loue: secondly, because the renowne, which they brought with them, could not but adde much grace to the dignitie which Religion had before of itself. And the number of them, who became Religious, and were eminent and famous in the world, is without num∣ber; wherfore we wil not striue to reckonvp-al, because it would be an endlesse labour, but confine our selues to those, that haue coupled exquisite Learning with singular Vertue; and among these also we wil only pick-out the chiefest in euerie Age; and first the Grecians, then those of the Latin Church.

* 1.6602. Serapton doth first present himself, as ancientest of them al, about the yeare of our Sauiour One hundred ninetie three. It is recorded of him, that being in his youth brought-vp in Monastical discipline, he was afterwards chosen Patriarck of Antioch, the Eighth in order after S. Peter the Apostle; and that he was the learnedst and eloquentest man of his time, and wrote manie excellent things for the benefit of posteritie.

* 1.6613. Pamphilus, a man not much inferiour in al things, liued not long after, to wit, in the yeare Two hundred and eleuen; he was also accounted the emi∣nentest of his Age for learning;* 1.662 and S. Hierome maketh mention of the great Li∣brarie which he had, and being put to death vnder Maximian the Emperour for the Faith of Christ, added the glorie of Martyrdome to the commendation of the Religious life which he had lead.

* 1.6634. Much about the same time, Lucian, who from his tender yeares was bred-vp a Monk, was also famous for learning; and, as Suidas writeth of him, taught a Schoole at Antioch, out of which manie rare men proceeded; at last the same Maximian hauing caused him to be imprisoned, and commanded that nothing should be giuen him but such meat as had been offered to Idols, he there perished by famine.

* 1.6645. Iohn Cl••macus is worthie to be reckoned in the number, who about the yeare Three hundred and fourtie, was a Monk in Mount-Sinai; and honoured his times not only with his exemplar life, but with his good exhortations and writings.

* 1.6656. To whome Eff••em Lyrus is nothing inferiour; he, whome S. Basil was told by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 what he was, when he came once to visit him; and being made 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by him could neuer be perswaded to say Masse, he thought so humbly 〈◊〉〈◊〉; yet he performed other Priestlie functions with great applause, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and instructing the people with such eloquent perswations,* 1.666 that he is 〈…〉〈…〉 had one of the fluentest tongues of his Age. And he wrote also manie things, which (as S. Hierome reporteth) were wont to be read

publickly in most Churches of the East, next after the holie Scripture.

7. But none were so conspicuous in those dayes, as S. Basil himself,* 1.667 and S. Gregorie Nazianzen,* 1.668 both equal in learning, and sympathizing in affection, and in their manner of life. For S. Gregorie sayling to Athens, and being in great danger vpon the sea,* 1.669 vowed to be a Monk, if he might escape with life; which Vow, when at the end of his studies he was resolued to performe, he drew S. Basil with him, who had been his familiar friend during that time. And for thirteen yeares togeather giuing themselues in a Monasterie to the studie of Scripture only and of Diuinitie, they aduanced themselues so farre in them both, as the whole world is witnes, by the great benefit, which it feeleth. After which time S. Basil was made Bishop of Cesarea; and S. Gregorie first of Nazianzen, afterwards of Constantinople. The things which both of them did, and suffered, and haue left written, are so knowne, that it is needlesse to repeate them. Only I thought good to obserue, that they retayned alwayes b••th of them such a loue to a Monastical life, that S. Basil togeather with his Pastoral Charge did euer ioyne the practises of Monastical discipline; and S. Gregorie giuing-ouer his Charge, betooke himself to his home, and there gaue himself wholy to the priuate exercise of those, that liue in Monasteries, til his dying-day. And we shal haue no cause to think it strange, if we consider what himself writeth of himself in a certain Oration, wherin he giueth this reason, why refusing a Bishoprick which was offered him, he fled into Pontus; to wit, because he was so much taken with a Religious life, that he could not be perswaded to leaue it;

Which life, sayth he, I hauing had so great an affection vnto it from my youth, as few, that haue giuen themselues to learning, may compare with me, and hauing vowed it to God when I was in extremitie of danger, and moreouer practised it to these yeares, and encreased more and more in the loue and desire of it by the verie practise, I could not suffer myself to be drawne out of it, no more then out of Sanctuarie.

8. Next after these we may reckon S. Epiphanius,* 1.670 who was certainly a very rare man. He was borne of Iewish parēts; but meeting one day with Lucian a Monk, and beholding a Bowle of light descending ouer his head, was so inflamed not only with the loue of Christian Religion, but also of a Monastical life, that re∣soluing presently vpon it, he would needs put himself into the seruice of God in his Monasterie; and wheras the Monasterie before was of no note or fame, by his presence it came to be greatly renowned. At last being chosen Bishop of a certain place, & putting himself into the first ship he met, with intent to auoyd it, he fel vpon the same pikes which he laboured so much to escape. For arriuing at Salamina in the Iland of Cyprus, where they were treating about choosing a Bishop, by Diuine instinct, and the general voice of al, he was there conse∣crated Bishop, though with much repugnance and reluctation on his part.

9. What shal we say of S. Iohn Chrysostome,* 1.671 who flourished about this time also, to wit, in the yeare Foure hundred? For we reade of him, that while he liued in a certain priuate Monasterie, an Angel appearing to Flauianus Pa∣triarck of Antioch, in a great light, willed him to goe to Iohn Chrysostom, and consecrate him Priest; and in like manner at the selfsame houre and time, the Angel appeared to Iohn, and willed him to follow Flauianus, in whose Church for twelue yeares togeather he did God great good seruice; and from

thence being made Archbishop of Constantinople, he tooke so much paynes, & went through so manie troubles, what with preaching, what with writing, what with prouiding for the Common good, and withal was so tossed and turmoiled through the enuie of his opponents, & the power of Princes, against whome he stood with great courage, that dying in banishment, and in great miserie, besides other titles of honour and commendation which he deserues, he may worthily be styled a Martyr.

* 1.67210. S. Iohn Damascen was also a very famous man about the yeare Foure hun∣dred and thirtie. His Workes, which are yet extant, doe sufficiently testifye his learning; & his life was ful of holines grounded vpon the deep foundation of Humilitie and Mortification. Al which he oweth to an other Monk, that being led captiue into Syria, became Maister to S. Iohn Damascen; and in short time put al his learning into him.

11. There were others also lesse renowned then the former, but yet were rare men, as Nilus, Isaacius, Eutimius, Diademus, Anastasius, and that great Bessarion,* 1.673 who in the yeare One thousand foure hundred thirtie nine, was the chief actour in the Councel of Florence, in the reconciling of the Grecians to the Latin Church, and solidly confuted both by word of mouth, and afterwards in writing, the Bishop of Ephesus, that was the only opponent in that busines. And being deseruedly esteemed one of the learnedst men of that Age, and besides hauing so much zeale and pietie, he was made Cardinal by Eugenius the Fourth, and did greater matters afterwards for the aduance∣ment of the Church of God. And this shal suffice concerning the Grecians.

* 1.67412. Among the Latins, those two lights of the Church, S. Hierome and S. Augustin, doe by right challenge the first place. And as for S. H••erome, it is euident,* 1.675 that he was a Monk from his youth, and neuer forsooke that course of life; though we find that he trauelled to Rome, and to Antioch, and other places. Insomuch that when Paulinus Bishop entreated him, and in a manner compelled him,* 1.676 to take Holie Orders, he yealded, but vpon this condition, that he might not forgoe his Monastical profession, as himself writeth to Pan∣machius, giuing this reason, because he would not haue that taken from him vnder the title of Priesthood, for which he had forsaken the world; wherefore though he were made Priest,* 1.677 he neuer suffered himself to be ranked among the other Clergie, nor would he spend his labours in preaching to the people, though he was much importuned vnto it by Epiphanius, as himself writeth in his Epistle to Iohn B••shop of Hierusalem.

Finally growing now in yeares he re∣turned to Hierusalem, and wheras Paula had built two Monasteries at the Manger of our Sauiour,* 1.678 at her owne cost and charges, one for women, an other for men, he tooke vp his rest in this that was for the men, & enlarged it at his owne expenses. For to this end (as he writeth) he sent his brother Pau∣linian into his owne countrey, to sel the decayed Mannours which had escaped the hands of the Barbarians, and the rest of his patrimonie, to the end he might haue roome to entertayne the multitudes of Monks, which flocked to him from al parts of the world, and did (as he speaketh) in a manner ouerwhelm: him.

And we may gather also that he had the gouernment of the said Monaste∣rie in his hands,* 1.679 by that which himself writeth in an other place, that he was forced to dispatch his Commentaries vpon Hieremie by peeces, by reason of the

number of those that came to the House, and of the charge of the holie Brethren, and of the Monasterie.

13. As concerning S. Augustin,* 1.680 though the course of life, which he lead, be sufficiently testifyed and knowne by that which seueral Authours haue left written, and chiefly Possidonius, yet it wil not be amisse to heare what he sayth of himself.

I (sayth he) who write this, haue been much in loue with the perfection of which our Sauiour speaketh to that rich yong man, saying: Goe, sel al thou hast, and giue to the poore, and come follow me; and not by my owne forces, but by the help of the grace of God, I haue perfor∣med it. And I know more then anie other man, how much I haue profited in this way of perfection; yet God knoweth it better then I. And I exhort others al I can to the like course, and haue companions in it in the name of our Lord,* 1.681 who haue been perswaded by my meanes. In an other place he setteth downe what the Hereticks sayd of him for this cause: Petilian with his fowle mouth aduanced himself in disprayse of Monasteries and Monks, finding fault also with me, because I haue been authour of a course of life of this nature; and yet he knoweth not what kind of life it is, or rather maketh as if he knew not that, which is knowne ouer al the world. What therefore can be sayd of a Religious state that can be more for the honour and credit of it, then that two so rare and excellent men haue embraced it with such loue and earnestnes, as themselues expresse?

For if we speake of wit, who was there euer more acute? if of Learning, who more learned? If we seeke able Pennes and tongues, where shal we find anie more eloquent and copious? if Vertue, who more holie? Finally if we regard Authoritie, none did euer carrie more sway in the Church of God then they two, nor euer shal.

14. S. Hierome in one of his Epistles,* 1.682 giueth vs to vnderstand that S. Paulinus Bishop of Nola, a Gascon by nation, was also a Monk. For writing to him as to a Monk,* 1.683 and not as to a Bishop as yet, he com∣mendeth him for changing his coat togeather with his mind, and for glo∣rying in pouertie both of spirit and of works; & aduiseth him to auoide the companie of Secular people, and particularly of great men.

For how (sayth he) can it be necessarie for you to behold the things often, by contempt wherof you began to be a Monk?

His owne writings doe sufficiently testifye his learning, and eloquence▪ and his vertue is admirable in many things, which he did, but chiefly for selling himself to the Barbarians to redeeme a widdowes sonne; which fact of his is highly extolled, and not without great reason, by S. Augustin, and S. Gregorie.

15. I haue cause to ranke that great S. Martin Bishop of Tours with the rare and excellent men of that Age:* 1.684 for though he had not tha•• Learning which people get in Schooles, yet he was so stored with Learning insu∣sed from heauen, that he did both preach, and dispute, and discharge al other parts belonging to the office of a Bishop with great applause, which could not be done without Learning. And first he began a Mo∣nasterie at Milan, and being thrust out from thence by Maxentius the Arrian, he erected an other at Poictiers, and a third at Tours after he was Bishop.

Where, notwithstanding he was Bishop (as Sulpitius writeth, who was

inwardly acquainted with him) he obserued Religious discipline to hi•• dying day, togeather with foure-score other Monks, and in extreme ri∣gour of pouertie, wheras most of them were nobly borne, and daintily bred.

* 1.68516. Iohn Cassian liued much about the same time, a Scythian borne, but for his style to be reckoned among the best Latinists. First he was schollar to S. Iohn Chrysostome, and afterwards built a monasterie at Marseils; in the ordering and gouerning wherof no doubt but he put in practise al that which he had set downe in writing of the speaches and conuersation of the holie Fathers; which euerie bodie knowes how much perfection it contaynes.

* 1.68617. Eucherius Bishop of Lions, chosen out of the Monasterie of Lerin to that Pastoral charge, was famous in his time (which was about the yeare Foure hundred and fiftie) and is yet to this day for the manie learned Books, which he hath left written.

* 1.68718. Prosper Bishop of Rhegio liued about the same time, and as Histories report of him, was first a Monk, and then Secretarie to Pope Leo the Great, & penned manie of his Epistles.

19. Not manie yeares after, to wit, about the yeare Fiue hundred, S. Fulgentius was renowned in Africk and throughout the whole world.* 1.688 The passages of his life, and his writings, are ful of great learning, which he shewed chiefly against Hereticks, from whom also he su••lered manie things with great constancie, and esteemed so highly of a Religious course of life, that he stil practised it al the while he was Bishop.

* 1.68920. Cassiodorus. was ful as famous as he, once a Senatour of Rauenna, and Chancelour to Th••odorick king of Italie; but detesting his companie after that he had slayne B••et••us, and forsaking him, and the world also, he founded the Monasterie of Clas••is for the Benedi••tin-Monks, which were new begun, and entred himself into the Order; a man rare for al Secular learning while he was in the world, and afterwards also for Diuinitie, as his Works which are yet extant doe witnes. He liued in the yeare Fiue hundred and fi••tie.

21. Who can commend S. Gregorie the Great as he deserueth,* 1.690 who liued some fi••tie yeares af••er? or who can sufficiently admire his sanctitie, or the abun••ance of his learning, deriued to the benefit of al posteritie, in so manie Books as he hath left written? But we shal haue occasion to speake of him againe among the Popes.

* 1.69122. S. Gregorie of ••our•• liued also in his time and was placed in that Bishop∣rick out of a Monasterie; and there be manie things yet extant which testifye his great learning.

* 1.69223. In Spayne Religion hath had the honour to haue Eutropius, first conse∣crate! to our Sauiou•• Christ from his youth, then Abbot, afterwards Bishop of Vale•••• about the yeare Six hundred and ten.

* 1.69324. Isidorus also, after he had spent much of his life in a Religious course, was made Archbishop of Seuil.* 1.694 S. Ildefonsus was his schollar, and imitated his vertues with so great benefit to himself and others, that he was created Archbishop of 〈◊〉〈◊〉. His learned writings are yet to be seen; and among

others his Booke of the Virginitie of our B. Ladie▪ whose deare seruant he was; and it is recorded of him, that when he had written that Booke, our B. Ladie appeared vnto him, holding the Booke in her hand, and thanked him for the paynes he had taken in setting forth her prayses.

25. About the same time Caesarius was famous in France;* 1.695 he was first a Monk, then Abbot of Lerin, afterwards Bishop of Arles; a learned and a holie man, and doubtlesse very eloquent.

26. England also hath had rare men bred-vp in Religious Orders,* 1.696 as S. Bede, who dyed in the yeare Seauen hundred thirtie three. From seauen yeares of age, when he first entred into Religion, til he was fourescore and twelue (for so long he liued) he spent his whole time in Learning and vertuous exercises, and hath left so manie volumes so learnedly written, that he is in a manner held to be another S. Augustin. And we may ga∣ther, what esteeme the world had of him, by that, while he was yet li∣uing, his writings were read publickly throughout the Churches of Eng∣land, togeather with the holie Fathers. And because in his life-time he could not be styled Saint, they styled him Venerable; which title remayneth stil in his Workes after his death. But that he was blind, as the vulgar reporte of him, is altogeather false and forged.

27. S. Anselm•• also flourished in England about the yeare One thousand and foure-score.* 1.697 He was first a Monk, then chosen Archbishop of Can∣terburie; and by the holines of his life and learnednes of his writings, which are yet extant, hath gotten himself much renowne, and done much honour to Religion.

28. And besides these, there haue been manie others in seueral Religious Families, that coupling rare Vertue with no lesse exquisit Learning, haue shined, and doe yet shine, in the Catholick Church, as starres to giue light in the night of this our pilgrimage. For what did S. Thomas of Aquin, or S. Bonauenture, and manie others, want for learning or holines, that they may not be compared with them that are more ancient? But we shal speake of them in another place.

29. Now we wil conclude this Chapter with ioyful acknowledgement and admiration, beholding with what rare men, or as the Apostle speaketh, with what Pillars Religious Orders haue furnished holie Church,* 1.698 and em∣bellished it and themselues. For by that, which hath been sayd, we may per∣ceaue, that of the Foure Greek Doctours, three of them were Religious, and also three of the Foure Latin Doctours; and moreouer that the farre greater part of the holiest and learnedst men were in like manner Reli∣gious.

Of Kings and Princes, that haue been Religious. CHAP. XXVI.

AL soules, as they are in nature equal, are of equal esteeme with God; and if he seeme at anie time to make a difference betwixt them, we shal find that he rather maketh choyce of the poore then of the rich; of those that are abiect and contemptible in the world,* 1.699 then of them that are in honour and dignitie.* 1.700 And yet, I know not how, the better a man is borne, and the more nobly he is descended, he is the more admired and applau∣ded, if he be also vertuous; either because it is a harder thing for him to be so, or for the reason, which S. Augustin giueth, because such people being knowne to manie, they leade manie to saluation by their example, & make way for manie to follow them; and therefore there is much ioy of them, because the ioy is not of them alone.* 1.701

And the Enemie is more ouercome in one of whome he hath more hold, & by whome he holdeth more; & he hath more hold of the proude by occasion of their nobilitie; and holdeth more by their meanes in regard of their authoritie.

And this is the reason, that God of his infinit goodnes hath called manie of these also to Religious courses, to the end he may not seeme to haue abandoned the powerful, as Iob speaketh, himself being powerful; and that Religion might not want the grace of Secular Nobilitie;* 1.702 and finally that the force and efficacie of the Grace of God might shew itself the more, in breaking through such mayne obstacles, as stand in great mens wayes betwixt them and heauen. To which purpose S. Bernard in a certain Epistle of his directed to a companie of yong Noble-men,* 1.703 that had newly put themselues into the Cister∣cian Order, write••h thus: I haue read, that God chose not manie noble men, not manie wise men, not ma••ie powerful; but now by the wonderful power of God, contrarie to the ordinarie course, a multitude of such people is conuerted.

The glorie of this present life waxeth contemptible, the flower of youth is trodden vnder foot, nobilitie not regarded, the wisdome of the world accoun∣ted follie, fl••sh and bloud reiected, the affection to friends and kinsfolk re∣nounced; fauour, honour, dignitie, esteemed as dung, that Christ may be gayned. And S. Hierome admired the same in his time in these words: In our Age Rome hath that,* 1.704 which the world knew not before. In old time among Christians there were but few wise men, few great men, few noble men; now there be manie Monks that are wise, and great, and noble.

2. This is therefore the subiect, which we haue now in hand, to set downe the names of those, out of ancient Records, that forsaking the honours and titles, which the world doth so much admire, haue triumphed ouer it, and (to vse S Bernard's word) by the contempt of glorie, are more gloriously exalted, and more sublimely glor••fyed. And first we wil speake of Emperours, then of Kings, and lastly of inferiour Princes; wherein if our discourse proue of the longest, I hope the pleasantnes therof wil so alay and temper it, that it wil rather seeme too short and concise.

3. Manie of the Grecian Emperours,* 1.705 as we find recorded, haue lead a Mo∣nastical life, as Anastasius in the yeare Seauen hundred and fifteen; Theodosius not long after; Michael in the yeare Eight hundred; and an other Michael in One thousand and fourtie; Isaacius Commenus in One thousand and threescore; and diuers others. But because some of them were in some sort forced to that course of life, others though they freely chose and professed it, yet liued not in that vnion with the Latin Church as they ought to haue done, we wil not insist vpon anie of them, but passe to the Emperours of the West established in the yeare Eight hundred by Pope Leo the Third in the person of Charles the Great, King of France.

4. The first therefore of the Latin Emperours that professed a Religious life,* 1.706 was Lotharius, from whom the Prouince of Lotharingia or Lorraine is so called,* 1.707 wheras before it was called Austrasia. He gouerned the Empire fifteene yeares, and was a iust and vertuous Prince; and remembring, as it is thought, the speach which Lew•••• his father had held vnto him (while he lay a-dying) of the vanitie of this World, himself hauing found it true by his owne expe∣rience, he resolued to quit al earthlie things, and to betake himself into the quiet hauen of Religion, from the tempestuous toiles of the Empire. And to the astonishment of the whole world, he retired himself into the Monasterie of Pr••m••; leading the rest of his life in Pouertie and Obedience. He liued about the yeare Eight hundred threescore and fiue.

5. In the yeare Nine hundred and twentie,* 1.708 Hugo King of Prouence and Emperour, hauing gotten much renowne for Martial affaires, and being glo∣rious for manie victories, builded a great Monasterie, wherin himself embra∣sing the humilitie of CHRIST, exchanged his Imperial Robes and Domi∣nions with a solitarie Celle, and the poore Habit of a Monke.

6. ••••chisius was the first king in Italie (that I know of) that became a Monk.* 1.709 He was a Lombard, and so powerful, that he had a great part of Italie sub••••ct vnto him. It is conceaued, that this change began in him vpon a pa••ley which he had with Pope Zacharie, who held the Sea of Rome in the yeare Seauen hundred fourtie one. For presently therupon leauing the sio••e of Pe∣rusia, he returned to Pauia, and disposing of his kingdome to his brother Astulp••us, he retired himself to the Monasterie of Mount-Cassin, wherof it is thought that he was afterward Abbot.

7. Pipin king of Italie and eldest sonne to Charles the Great,* 1.710 king of France, in the yeare Eight hundred and fiue, followed his example, and after much ho∣nour gotten in warre, frighted notwithstanding with the manie dangers which he saw were incident to so great a power, he betooke himself to a Monaste∣rie, which he had built at Verona in honour of S. Zeno, and had giuen it a good foundation.

8. In Spayne king Bamba hauing raigned eleuen yeares,* 1.711 and shewed him∣self a valiant King both at home and abroad, and among other victories defea∣ted two hundred sayle of African Pirats, and taken king Paul aliue, that came against him out of France, prefe••••ed a Monastical life before al this, wherin hauing liued holily seauen yeares, he went to receaue his eternal reward the yeare Six hundred seuentie foure.

9. And in the yeare Seauen hundred eightie six,* 1.712 the same Spayne shewed vs

an other example of the like conuersion in Veremund King of Castile, of whom we also reade that he gaue his voice for his cosen Alphonsus rather to succeed him then his owne two children that were vnder age, because so it was better for his subiects, then to be gouerned by children.

* 1.71310. About the yeare One thousand one hundred and fiftie, Ramirez King of Aragon became twice a Monk: first in his youth, while his father Don Sanc•••• was yet aliue, who afterwards dying without issue, and one Peter being cho∣sen King and not long after deposed for his pride and arrogancie, this Ramirez was by the Pope's authoritie taken out of his Monasterie, and crowned King, and also married; of which marriage hauing had a daughter, he gaue her his kingd••me in marriage for her portion; retiring himself to his former quiet life in his Monasterie, as hauing discharged himself sufficiently of so great a work.

* 1.71411. England hath been more fertil of these examples then anie other Coun∣trey. For first while the land was as yet diuided into manie kingdomes, Sigebert King of the Northumbers, a man renowned for his learning, and muc•• more for vertue, hauing about the yeare Six hundred and fourtie established manie good orders in his kingdome for the seruice of God, consecreated hims•••••• also vnto him in a Monasterie; of whom among other things it is recorded, that when not long after Penda King of the Mercians inuaded the Northumb•••••• with a great armie,* 1.715 the whole Countrey had their eye vpon Sigebert, and com∣pelled him for the glorie of God to take vpon him the defence of the king∣dome in so great an occasion of danger, he went therfore into the field to fight for the Christian cause, but in the selfsame habit which he wore in the Mona∣sterie, and gouerned the whole armie with his staffe in his hand, without anie other armour; and wheras (God so disposing) the Christian armie was ouer∣throwne, he also togeather with the King was slayne in battaile, and is there∣fore by some reckoned among the holie Martyrs.

* 1.71612. In the yeare Seauen hundred and foure, Ethelred King of the Merci•••••• with like deuotion, hauing gouerned the kingdome diuers yeares very reli∣giously, left it to Chemed his brother's sonne before he was yet of age, and be∣tooke himself to a Monasterie that was within the same his Dominion, wher∣in he profited so farre in vertue, that he was made afterwards Abbot.

* 1.71713. Chemed being more ambitious of this latter course of life which his Vncle lead, then of the former, when he had raigned fiue yeares, went to Rome, and receaued the habit of a Monk of Pope Constantine the first, and spent the rest of his dayes in that Cittie in great sanctitie.

* 1.71814. Offa King of the East-Saxons accompanied him in his iourney and in his holie purpose and in the flower of his age, and the height of his world 〈◊〉〈◊〉 prospetitie, contemning and treading al vnder foot, was by the same Pope 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hauen a Monk, and Cloathed with a Monastical weed.

* 1.71915. Not long after, to wit, in the yeare Seauen hundred and fourtie, Inas King of the same East-Saxons, renowned in warre and peace, and so memorable for his deu••tion towards that Sea of Rome, that he voluntarily made his whole kingdome tributarie vnto it, went himself in person to Rome; and resigning his kingdome, tooke vpon him a Religious course of life with a great fer∣uour, to the end the more naked he was, he might the more freely follow our

Sauiour, that vouchsafed to be naked for our sakes.

16. The like did Ceolulf King of the Northumbers,* 1.720 to whom Venerable Bede dedicated his Historie. For hauing raigned eight yeares, wearied with worldlie affaires, and desirous of a quiet life, he fled to Religion, and left his kingdome to his Vncle ••gbert;* 1.721 who also when he had held it twentie yeares, followed the same course with Ceolulf, and was professed a Monk in the self-same Monasterie. Al these we haue out o•• England only.

17. Out of Germanie we haue a rare example in Charlemain sonne to Char∣les Martel.* 1.722 He was King of Austrasia and Sueuia, famous for manie noble acts; but taken with the loue of heauenlie things, he went to Rome as a poore pri∣uate man; and receauing Holie Orders of Pope Zacharie, and the habit of a Monk, he built a Monasterie in the Mount-••oracte, and there spent part of his da••e••; but finding himself encumbred with manie visits, by reason he dwelt so neere the Cittie, and his spiritual quiet much disturbed, he remoued to Mount-Cass••••s; where Petronax Abbot of that pl••••e entertayned him with great ioy and comfort; and the profit which there 〈◊〉〈◊〉 made in al kind of vertue, but chiefly in humilitie, is very wonderful. We reade in the Annals of that Mo∣nasterie, that (so great a man as he was) by commandment of his Abbot he was appointed to be a shepheard or heares-man, & attended to that busines with farre more alacritie, then euer he did to the affaires of his kingdome; and on a time one of the sheep falling lame, he tooke it vpon his shoulders, and carried it to the fould, nothing reflecting vpon the nastines of the busines. He liued about the yeare of our Sauiour, Seauen hundred and fiftie.

18. What shal we say of Trebellius King of the Bulgarians,* 1.723 who in the yeare Ei••ht hundred three-score and two, by meanes of Pope N••colas the First embraced the Christian Faith with so much feruour, that he presently banni∣shed Photinus the Heretick out of his kingdome; and deliuering his Scepter to his sonne, bound himself to the seruice of God alone; and finding not long after, that his sonne was fallen againe to his former impictie, he ••rieued ex∣ceedingly, and tooke it so to hart, that leauing his Monasterie, and recoue∣ring his kingdome, laying hold on the yong man, he caused both his eyes to be pulled out, and condemned him to perpetual imprisonment; finally feeling the kingdome vpon a yonger sonne called Alber••us, and giuing him hole∣some Instructions, he retired himself againe to his Colle.

19. These are the Kings that in a••cient time embraced a Religious life: for in la••er Ages these kind of examples are farre more seldome to be seen.* 1.724 And yet we find it recorded, that Iohn Prena King of Hierusalem and Empe∣rour of Constantinople was a Franciscan-Friar. For S. Francis appearing once visibly vnto him while he was at his prayers, and offering him his habit, he presently sent for his Ghostlie Father, and tooke that habit vpon him; and not long after died of a feuer, and coming as it were at the Eleuenth houre, re∣ceaued notwithstanding his hire.

Henrie King of Cyprus was yet more happie;* 1.725 for he liued manie yeares in that holie Institute, and is glorious both for vertue and miracles.

20. Finally Iohn king of Armenia is not to be left out,* 1.726 whose kingdome was so large, that he had foure and twentie kings vnder him, al crowned with Princelie Diademes; but he forsaking so great a kingdome & resigning it to

his nephew Leo, chose to be abiect in the house of God, and rather to serue for his loue, then to rule ouer others. The Turks breaking into the Countrey, and Leo not being able to make head against them, Iohn seing God's cause in danger, putteth armour ouer his Religious weed, and after this new fashion going into the field, is maister of it with very great losse on the enemie's side; but following the victorie (it pleased God) he was slayne in a certain skirmish, and so went to enioy the reward of Heauen.

* 1.72721. Next after Kings and Emperours, their sonnes doe follow: manie of them hauing preferred a Religious life before al worldlie honour. And first Charles the Great had three of his sonnes that were Monks: Hugo, Drogo, and Pip••n. The two first embraced that course of their owne accord, Pipin was at first compelled vnto it by his father (because he had thought to make himself King afterwards) when he had tasted of that quiet life and found it sweet, he willingly continued in it. They al liued about the yeare Eight hundred and thirtie.

* 1.72822. The three sonnes of Vibian king of Ireland, were al of them Monks, and al of them Saints; Froscus, Folliang, and Vltan. They in the yeare Six hundred and fiftie, forsaking their Countrey came into France, and were courteously entertained by Clou••s then king, who also giuing them choice of a place, where they would make their aboad, they built the Monasterie of Pontiny, and there chose their seate. But the holie contention which hapned betwixt the two son∣nes of a Brittish king, about the yeare Six hundred fiftie seauen, is very rare and mem••rable. ••or Iudaellus succeeding his father in the kingdome discouereth to his brother a purpose which he had of entring into Religion, willing him to prepare himself to take the gouernment vpon him of the kingdome, which shortly he would leaue him; Ioyce desired his brother to giue him eight dayes tearme to consider of the busines;* 1.729 and in the meane time, preuenting his brother, he betooke himself priuately to a Monasterie, to the end he might not be hindered of his resolution, thinking with himself, that if the fortune of a King were such, as it was best for his brother to forsake it, it could not be good for him to accept of it.

* 1.73023. Richard also king of England had two sonnes that were Religious in the yeare Eight hundred and two; one of them by name Willebald professed in Mount-Cass••n, the other V••ebald at Magdebourg in Saxonie.

* 1.73124. No lesse noble were the two brethren Clotaire and Carleman sonnes of Charles King of France in the yeare Eight hundred fourtie one, both of them prefer••ing the yoak of Religion before their Royal Scepters. And in the num∣ber we may place Frederick sonne of Lew••s King of France, in the yeare Nine hundred threescore and two▪ and Henrie sonne of an other Lewis King of the same Countrey, though somwhat later, to wit, in the yeare One thousand one hundred and fiftie.

* 1.73225. The first that we read of, that entred among the Franciscan-Friars, was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 eldest sonne of the King of Mallorca, who though by right he was to haue succeeded in the Kingdome, preferred the Kingdome of heauen before it, and entred, as I sayd, into the Order of S. Francis▪ and leading therin a very holie life, did much good also to his Neighbours, both by word and example.

26. An other of the same Order was Lewis,* 1.733 eldest sonne also of Charles the Second King of France, a man of singular parts, both for bodie and mind. He, while he was left in Spayne for a pledge, resolued vpon this holesome course of Religion, and the Franciscan-Friars stil differring him, for the respect which they bore to the King, he bound himself publickly more then once by Vow vnto it. And when afterwards in the yeare One thousand two hundred ninetie seauen Pope Boniface the Eight presented him with the Archbishoprick of Toulcuse, he would not accept of it, vnlesse they would first agree, that he might enter among the Franciscan-Friars, according to his former Vow; and so taking the habit in a great assemblie of the Nobilitie, he neuer left it of, but togeather with the weed continued also the rigour of the life belonging vnto it, and mingled Religious exercises with his Episcopal cares.

27. His nephew Peter sonne to the King of Aragon followed his example,* 1.734 in the yeare One thousand three hundred fiftie seauen. And it is recorded of him, that, while he was in deliberation of abandoning the world, and hung doubtful in the contention of flesh and spirit, as it hapneth to very manie, this S. Lewis appeared vnto him in the night with some of the Brethren of his Or∣der, al in great glorie, and encouraged him to take that course of life, which was in Heauen so highly rewarded; and so he did not long after, and liued in Religion twentie yeares, to the great benefit of himself and manie others, for that he was a great preacher, and inflamed manie in the loue of God by his sermons.

28. It is not possible to name or number al the Dukes,* 1.735 and Lords, and in∣feriour Princes, that haue led a Religious life; yet we wil point at some by the way. Of this degree was Algerius, Duke of Aquitaine, and his sonne Amandus, in the yeare Foure hundred thirtie nine; also Anselme Duke 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Mode••na, Anno Seauen hundred and fourtie; Dietland and Ancigard, Dukes of Sueuia, in the yeare Eight hundred and fifteene; Vig••sius Duke of Spoleto, in the yeare ••ight hundred and twentie; Wiliam Duke of Gasconie in the yeare Foure hundred and fourtie; and after him another Wiliam, Second of that name, in the yeare Nine hundred and twelue; of whom it is recorded, that in the Monasterie of Cluny he led so humble a life, that he was euer sub∣iect 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the least and lowest; and being by his Abbot put to bake some bread, he was so quick and exact in obeying, that because he had not a mowkin at hand, he crept into the ouen hot glowing as it was, and swept it with his coate, and was not hurt, nor any thing endomaged by the fire.

29. Manie others of the same rank haue been Monks,* 1.736 but it were long to rehearse them al; wherefore we wil passe to those that haue been of S. Francis his Order, and reckon-vp a few of them: as Wiliam Duke of Burgundie; G••••salue Marin•• a Portugez; Adulphus Count of Alsatia, who entring among the Franciscans about the yeare One thousand two hundred and fiftie, among other vertues was much giuen to Mortification; and once in particular going through his owne Cittie with a pitcher of milk which he had begd about the towne, he met his three sonnes, whom he had left in the world, walking the streets with great state; and because he began a litle to be ashamed, to ouer∣come himself therin, he listed the pitcher vp to his head, and powred it al vpon himself. And manie such rare men haue been of this Order.

* 1.73730. And in this our least Societie of IESVS, within these few yeares since it was founded, there haue not been a few Noblemen called vnto it. But the prime man of them al was Francis Borgia Duke of Gandie, who being in great fauour and esteeme with Charles the Fift in Spayne,* 1.738 to the astonishment of al beholders, laying aside al his greatnes, embraced the humble state of a Reli∣gious life, and profited exceedingly in it. The reason why he chose to enter into the Societie before al other Religious Orders, was this, which himself gaue to the Emperour, and I haue it by relation from his owne mouth in my hearing. If a man, that had manie fruitful vineyards, should moreouer resolue to plant an orchard, for his owne priuate pleasure and contentment, you could not doe him a greater courtesie then to present him with a slip or tree to plant in it; Our Lord therefore hauing lately planted this orchard of the Societie, after so manie other anciēt & worthie vineyards of other Orders, I thought with myself (sayth he) that it could not but be very grateful vnto him, if I presented myself, such as I am, as a tree to be planted in it. Of the same rank of Dukes was Antonie de Cordoua,* 1.739 sonne to the Duke of ••eria, a man of singular vertue. And in Italie we had Fa. Rodulphus Aquauiua sonne to the Duke of Atri, which is one of the ancientest and noblest Families in the kingdome of Naples. He was called to Religion with such abundance of the spirit of God, that he could not by anie means or force be diuerted from it, though much was vsed to withdraw him. And hauing in a short time profited exceedingly in al kind of vertue,* 1.740 by his owne importunitie, as I may say, he was sent into the East-Indies; where he lead so holie a life, that not only those of our Societie, and al other Christians, but the verie Heathens themselues did admire him, and commonly called him the Angel. At last being sent to the Ilands of Salsedo to preach the Christian Fayth, he was killed with some others of the Societie by the inhabitants that were Mahometans, in hatred of Christian Religion; adorning his former life, and al his Religious vertues with the crowne of a most certain and most glo∣rious Martyrdome. There be diuers others also in our Societie of like Nobilitie, descended from Dukes, and Marquesses, and other Princes, but because they are al yet liuing, and we liue and conuerse dayly with them, Ciuilitie, neither of our part, nor of theirs, wil not suffer vs to name them: but we must obey the Counsel of the Wiseman,* 1.741 where he sayth: Prayse no man before his death. Wher∣fore passing the rest in silence, we wil remember only one that is lately dead, to wit,* 1.742 Andrew Spinola, a prime man of Genua for his birth; and of Rome, in regard of the place which he bore in that Court next to the Cardinals, and as it were in the verie entrance to a Cardinalship. But he contemning both the honour in which he was, and the preferment which he might haue hoped, stooped rather to Religious discipline; and set the world and the vanitie therof so much at scorne, that not long after, he went twice about the streetes of Rome in an old tattered coate, begging his bread from doore to doore; which struck such an admiration into al Rome, that people for some dayes could talke of nothing els; and a certain Preacher discoursing of that place of the Prophet E••••y: Futrie ••il and euerie hillock shal be humbled, did not stick to point at this our Spinola, as to one of the hils and hillocks, which had humbled themselues by the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of our Sauiour. But it is time to draw to a conclusion, for as I sayd before, there haue been so manie of this degree of Nobilitie, both in elder and

latter times, that shunning the waues and shelues of this world, haue sur∣ged with excessiue ioy at the port of Religion, that, if we should goe abou•• to rehearse them al, we must resolue to make a whole long Volume of it by itself.

Of Noble women that haue liued in Religion. CHAP. XXVII.

AFTER so manie rare examples of men, we will speake also of some women, both because they haue been in their kind a great ornament to a Religious state, and because the more infirme their sexe is, the more encouragement doth it giue to men, to employ themselues in al kind of vertue.

2. The Empresse Theodora doth first offer herself.* 1.743 For being married to Theophilus an Heretick Emperour about the yeare Eight hun∣dred and fourescore, she kept herself alwayes constant to the Catholick Faith; and after his decease, she did wonderfully aduance the Catholick cause, chiefly by restoring the vse of holie Images, and recalling holie men from their places of bannishment. And hauing for some yeares gouerned the Empire, she of her owne accord layd downe al that state and power, and shut herself vp in the monasterie, where her mother Trurina had giuen herself to God before her.

3. Augusta an other Empresse practised the like deuotion,* 1.744 not weighing the infancie and lonenes of her sonne, after Isaacius her husband's death: but appointing him certain Tutours, withdrew herself out of the world. When Alexius (for so was her sonne called) came of age, the Tutours would by no means giue-vp the administration of the Empire; wherefore by her sonne's entreatie returning to Court, she tooke the gouernment into her owne hands againe, retaining notwithstanding her Religious purposes and practise, her veyle and her whole Monastical weed; til finding means to esta∣blish the gouernment vpon her sonne, she returned to her Monasterie about the yeare One thousand one hundred and ninetie. And these two were out of the East.

4. In the West we find,* 1.745 that Richarde wife to the Emperour Charles le Grosse, being brought into suspicion that she had been false vnto him, easily cleared herself; but yet made vse of the occasion to quit his marriage, as she had long desired; and retiring herself into Halsatia, built a monasterie, wherin she lead a Religious life about the yeare Eight hundred ninetie nine.

5. The case of Cunegundes wife to Henrie King of England first,* 1.746 then afterwards Emperour, in the yeare One thousand one hundred thirtie nine, was not vnlike to this. For diuorcing herself from him vpon the like suspicion and fault, which was cast vpon her, she made a better marriage with Christ our Sauiour.

* 1.7476. And yet another Cunegundes was more happie about the yeare One thou∣sand one hundred and twentie. For being married to the Emperour Henrie the First, she liued manie yeares with him, and kept her virginitie; and he dying before her, she lead so holie a life for fifteen yeares togeather in the Monasterie of Confugium, that she is registred among the Saints in the Church of God.

* 1.7487. Agnes wife to the Emperour Henrie the Third, gouerned the Empire after his decease, according as he had left in his Wil, til his sonne (who at the time of his death was but an infant) came to twelue yeares of age; and then giuing ouer the charge of the Empire, and also the Dukedome of Bauiere, which be∣longed vnto her, she went to Rome, and there chose to liue in the humilitie of a Monastical life, in the yeare One thousand one hundred fiftie sea∣uen.

* 1.7498. The like did Elizabeth wife to the Emperour Albertus the First, & Arch∣duke of Austria; for he being most lamentably slayne, she bad the world Farewel, and liued a heauenlie life in a Monasterie, which herself had built, in the yeare One thousand two hundred and ninetie. Two of her daughters followed her example, the one married to the King of Hungarie, the other to the Count of Ottighen; & two of her grandchildren, the Queene of Polonia, and her daughter, though she were sure to the Duke of Vratislaw.

* 1.7509. Now from Empresses to come to Queenes; in Italie T••sia wife to Rachisins (of whom we spake before) following the example of her husband, would not be farre-of from him neither in distance of place. For as he retired himself into the monasterie of Mount-Cassin, so she with her daughter Re••••uda hid her∣self in a Monasterie, which was not farre distant, wherin S. Scholastica had sometimes liued, and she had restored, and there she spent her dayes in great sanctitie.

* 1.75110. In France in the yeare Fiue hundred twentie fiue, Radegundes being mar∣ried against her wil to king Clo••••re, after some yeares by much importunitie get his consent, and retired herself to Poictiers, and there gaue herself to God with great feruour and earnestnes of deuotion, that in a short time she arriued to a high degree of perfection in vertue, as it is recorded of her.

* 1.75211. Not manie yeares after her, Adocra wife to Chilperick king of France, to∣geather with her daughter Child••rade forsaking their Princes pleasures, be tooke themselues to the same heauenlie profession.* 1.753 And Batilda about the yeare Six hundred and fiftie, by the decease of king Clouis, remaining as it were at libertie, and with ful power to performe what she had alwayes desired from her infan∣cie, she went to Callis, and enlarging a Monasterie, which was there already built, the ioyned herself to a better Spouse our Sauiour, and was famous for al kind of vertue, but specially for her humilitie.

12. In Spayne we find recorded of two Queenes that were also Reli∣gious; Nunez wife to Ver••mund, of whom we spake before; for she entred 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her husband, and was no litle encouragement vnto him by her exam∣ple; And Peresa, who being by her brother Alfonso king of Leon, married to A••••••••••las king of Toledo (a More or Saracen) she not being able by al the entreaties & protestations, which she did alleage to hinder it, God did hinder it. 〈…〉〈…〉 the Barbarous king a most grieuous and deadlie sicknes; whereby he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it was the hand of God, sent Teresa back againe vntouched; &

she presently espoused herself according to her desire to our Sauiour, in the Monasterie of S. Pelayo, in the yeare One thousand and six.

13. But it is strange to see how manie of these like examples we haue out of England;* 1.754 as of Alfred Spouse to the King of the Northumbers, who was slayne before they were bedded togeather, in the yeare Six hundred and sea∣uentie; and Ethelburg,* 1.755 who perswaded king Inas to the resolution which he tooke, as we sayd before, and afterwards followed his example in the like course. But what can be more strange then that which hapned to Etheldred,* 1.756 who being wife to two Kings kept her virginitie with them both, and obtayned of the second, after twelue yeares that they had been married togeather, leaue to goe liue among other Virgins in a Monasterie? What a life may we imagin she liued in the Monasterie, that was so great a Saint in her worldlie king∣dome? And she is also registred among the Saints by Holie Church. She liued about the yeare Seauen hundred and six.

14. Sesburg her sister, Queene of Kent, followed her not long after, so soone as her husband was dead. And Alfrede Queene of the Mercians and Northumbers is not to be omitted, who, like another Magdalen, to redeeme her former of∣fences, and, among the rest, the vniust murther of her yong innocent sonne-in-law, lead an austere life among other seruants of Christ, in a Monasterie, which herself had built at her owne proper cost and charge, about the yeare of our Lord Nine hundred seauentie fiue.

15. It were long and tedious to rehearse al the Kings daughters, which both in England and other Countries haue consecrated themselues to God in Monasteries; the number of them is so very great. Wherefore passing those in silence, which are more ancient, we wil mention a few only of those that are of later memorie.* 1.757 Margaret daughter to Bela king of Hungarie is famous among the Nunnes of S. Dominick's Order for her rare vertue, and shineth like a starre in the firmament. For of eight and twentie yeares, which she liued, she spent foure and twentie in Religion, being vowed therunto by her parents, when she was but foure yeare olde. But the Nobilitie of her bloud was the least thing in her; for the Sanctitie of her life, and the rigour which she vsed in punishing her bodie both by continual fasting and with whippes like spurres, is farre more conspicuous, & her profound humilitie which she chief∣ly shewed in tending the sick; being alwaies giuen to such like humble and charitable offices; the practise wherof was farre more to be admired in her, then her Princelie descent. And it is recorded of her, that out of the great esteeme which she had of this Religious course of life, she constantly refused the marriage of three Kings, to wit, of Poland, of Bohemia, and of Sicilie; and when it was offered her, that there should be a dispensation procured from the Pope for her Vowes, she answered resolutly, that she would rather cut-of her nose and her lippes, and pul-out her eyes, then yeald her consent to be married to anie creature. She dyed in the yeare One thousand two hundred and seauentie.

15. In the yeare One thousand three hundred fourtie three,* 1.758 Sancha Queene of Sicilie and Hierusalem, a few moneths after the decease of Robert her husband, put on the habit of S. Francis his Order at Naples, professing the Pouertie and Rule of S. Clare; by which Rule none of them can possesse

anie thing as their owne, not so much as in common. It is reported of her, that ••ut of humilitie she earnestly begged of the General of the Order, that he would forbid euerie bodie very seuerely from calling her anie more Queene, and that they should cal her Sister as the rest.

* 1.75917. No lesse was the vertue of Agnes daughter to Orethus King of Bohemia, about the yeare One thousand two hundred and fourtie. For being giuen in marriage to Frederick the Second, she would neuer yeald her consent, but vowed Virginitie in a Monasterie of the same Order of S. ••rancis in Prague.* 1.760 The like is recorded of Cunegundes daughter and wife to a King; for being daughter to the King of Hungarie, and espoused to Bol••••laus, surnamed the Chaste, King of Poland, she kept her Virginitie vnde∣filed togeather with him, and afterwards lead also a Religious life in a Mo∣nasterie, which herself had founded.

* 1.76118. Ioane also daughter to the King of Nauarre, preferring the heauenlie before the earthlie kingdome, vowed herself to the seruice of God in a Mo∣nasterie in Paris, to her owne excessiue benefit, and great astonishment of al the world. Isabel daughter to the King of France,* 1.762 and sister to S. Lewis, de∣spising the world tooke vp the Crosse of Christ in the same Order, and liued with so great feruour in it,* 1.763 that she is also famous for miracles. Blanch daughter of Philip King of France followed the same foot-steps about the yeare One thousand three hundred and fifteene.

1••. And of late yeares our Age hath been ennobled with no lesse rare an example (with which I wil conclude) in the person of Margaret of Austria daughter to Maximilian the Emperour;* 1.764 and Marie sister to Philip King of Spayne. She, notwithstanding her so noble Extraction, contemning world∣lie marriages and al earthlie things, vowed Virginitie a few yeares agoe in the Order of S. Clare, in a Monasterie, where the ancient rigour of that Or∣der is seuerely kept, and perseuereth therin to this verie day with great commendation of vertue.

20. What therefore can be more beautiful in the eye of the minde, or more delightful to men or Angels, then to behold so great a Maiestie and so great Power voluntarily stooping to a Habit so contemptible, and to so poore a Celle, and such humble offices as are incident to such a state of life?* 1.765 Certainly, if there be ioy in heauen of one sinner, that turning to God, beginneth but to lay the first foundations of vertue; how much more ioy must there needs be at the practise of vertues so heroical and so absolutly perfect in al kinds?

Of Popes, that haue been taken out of Religious Orders. CHAP. XXVIII.

HITHERTO we haue spoken of Secular Nobilitie, and shewed how Religion hath been graced by the entrance of people of great rank in the world, into it. Now we are to shew, that it hath receaued no lesse honour by those, that out of Religious courts haue been exalted to high digni∣ties and promotions in the Church. And first we wil speake of Popes, because it cannot but be a great honour to be as∣sumed to that dignitie, to which on earth there is none to be compared, being inferiour to none but God, and sustaining so weightie a burthen as must needs require a great wisdome coupled with no lesse sanctitie and holines of life. And consequently as a House or Familie, and al the kindred belonging vnto it, be it neuer so meane and poore before, is raysed in the opinion and esteeme of the world, and made noble, by one man's promotion to this great honour and dig∣nitie; why may we not say and think the same of euerie Religious Familie? a Religious man hauing ful as much relation vnto the Religion wherein he is professed, as to his natiue House and stock, and by meanes therof arriued to so high promotion, as manie as from thence haue been assumed vnto it.

2. The first Pope therefore that without al question was a Religious man (for I purposely speake not of those, of whom there is anie doubt) was, as we find recorded, Dionysius a Grecian borne,* 1.766 two hundred and threescore yeares after Christ who possessing that Sea ten yeares, is sayd to haue ordained manie good things both at Rome and in other places; and is chiefly memorable for opposing himself in the Councel of Antioch against the Heresie of Paulus Sa∣mosatenus, who then began to spread his pernicious doctrine, & endeau ••uted to take away the Diuinitie of our Sauiour Christ. Afterward suffering also death for Christ, he had a double Crowne, of Martyrdome and of Religion.

3. In the yeare Fiue hundred seauentie fiue,* 1.767 Benedict the First, a Roman borne, hauing been a Monk, was created Pope in most woeful times, when al I alie was in combustion by meanes of warre; and hauing fate at the sterne foure yeares, he went to heauen.

4. Diuers Authours, and in particular the Booke which is intitled the Ponti∣fical Chaire (wherin the successiō of al the Popes is exactly set downe) doe make mention,* 1.768 that Pelagius the Second (whose schollar & successour was S. Gregorie) was chosen Pope out of a monasterie of Monks. He was made Pope in the yeare Fiue hundred seauentie nine; and sate ten yeares.

5. Next after him succeeded S. Gregorie the Great,* 1.769 who had been a Monk in Rome in the Monasterie of S. Andrew, and liued according to the Rule of S. Benedict. What shal we need to repeate the famous things which he per∣formed during his charge, which was thirteen yeares? his liberalitie to∣wards the poore, his care in watching ouer Heresies which were springing vp, his courage in opposing himself euen against Princes, his patience

in corporal infirmities, his endeauour and application in attending to the care of al parts of his flock, his diligence and copiousnes in his written Books, and (which graced al the rest) his wonderful modestie and humilitie, and al kind of true vertue; his miracles also, and holesome Decrees, seing they are infinit, and in a manner as knowne to al, as if he had liued in these our dayes.

6. Not much more then two yeares after him, an other of the same Order of S. Benedict was Pope, to wit, Boniface the Fourth,* 1.770 who being bred-vp in Rome in the Monasterie of S. Sebastian, learned there that vertue and pietie, which he afterwards practised in his Pontifical charge; and is recorded to haue borne so great an affection to the Religion, out of which he was taken, that he made his father's house into a Monasterie, and gaue it sufficient rent for the maintenance of it. And hauing spent six yeares and some moneths in such kind of works, he went to receaue his reward in heauen.

* 1.7717. Writers doe generally agree, that Adeoda••us the First of that name was also a Monk of the Monasterie of S. Erasmus in Mount Caelius in Rome, and of so holie a life, that in the height of his honour he practised al kind of vertue belonging to a Religious man, and was renowned specially for his meeknes and sweet conuersation; and was so great a despiser of worldlie wealth, that he spent almost al vpon the poore and distressed, and in releeuing the Pilgrimes that came to Rome. He was Pope foure yeares.

* 1.7728. Two yeares after him Agatho (a Sicilian borne) was chosen out of a Monasterie; whose sanctitie is testified by diuers miracles, among which that was rare bo••h for power and practise of charitie, when vouchsafing to em∣brace and kisse a leaper, whom he met, he presently also cured him. And his constancie was no lesse in opposing the Heresie of the Monothelites (that sayd Christ had but one wil) and gathering a famous Councel at Constantinople for the speedie condemning of them, which is called the Sixt Synode. In which his speedie course of Vertue, he was taken away by more speedie death; to wit, after two yeares and a half that he had been Pope.

* 1.7739. Ten moneths after (in which time Leo the Second sate) Benedict the Se∣cond succeeded in the yeare Six hundred fourescore and three; of whom it is recorded that he lead a Monastical life in Rome from his infancie, and was a singular man both for vertue and learning. The Emperour Constantine made a decree in fauour of him, that they should not need to wayte for the consent of the Emperours in choosing the Popes, but that the Election of the Clergie and People of Rome should take place without it. But the Church had rather a glimse then a sight of his rare vertue; for he dyed after ten moneths to the great grief and lamentation of euerie bodie.

* 1.77410. There f••llowed him two Gregories, the Second and the Third, the one in the yeare Seauen hundred and sixteen, the other fifteen yeares after; for so long the former held that Sea, and did much good both in the Cittie of Rome by building Churches and Religious houses, and in the whole Church of God, and specially in Germanie, whether he sent S. Boniface a Monk to preach the Faith of Christ, & receaued the first fruits of Gentilitie out of that Coun∣trey with so much contentment, that with his owne hand he Baptized them. The sanctitie and prowesse of the other Gregorie did chiefly shew itself in the conflict, which he had concerning the Catholick Faith with the Emperour

Leo the Third, who was an Heretick, and an enemie of holie Images, for which cause also he depriued him of the Communion with the Faithful, and of his Empire. Yet as none was more courageous then he against his enemies, so none could be more meek, and affable, and liberal towards the poore, and orphanes, and widdowes, he being commonly called the Father and Patron of al such people. He liued in his Pastoral charge almost eleuen yeares. The Booke intitled the Pontifical Chaire, which we mentioned before, and diuers other Authours relate, that both these Gregories were Monks.

11. In the yeare Seauen hundred sixtie eight,* 1.775 Stephen the Third was promoted to the Sea He was bred-vp from a child in the monasterie of S. Ch••••sigonus in Rome, and was rare both for vertue and learning, and ioyning also practise therewithal, was held a wise man; and therupon was employed in matters of great moment concerning the Church, by three Popes, to wit, Zacharie, Stephen the Second, and Paul. And coming himself to the Popedome thus furnished, it is incredible, how much he did benefit the Church of God both by his exem∣plar life, and famous deeds; among which we may reckon the Councel of Lateran, which he gathered for Reformation of manners in the Church. He also by the strength of his wisdome and courage thrust out one Michael, that had intruded himself into the Archbishoprick of Rauenna by fauour of some Kings and Princes. And finally after three yeares and a few moneths, leauing this world, he left also in the minds of men both a great opinion of his sancti∣tie, and a great desire that he might haue continued longer with them.

12. In the yeare Eight hundred and seauenteen,* 1.776 Paschalis the First, by special prouidence of God, was taken out of the monasterie of S. Stephen in Rome, where he was Abbot; and placed in the Pastoral charge ouer the whole Christian flock, held the place a litle more then seauen yeares. A man not only eminent for sanctitie and Religion, which a bodie might iustly expect of a Monk, but for his courage, which he shewed in suppressing the endeauours of some Secular powers, that would needs challenge a right in the choosing of Popes, wheras no such thing was due vnto them. He was also famous for his deuotion, and magnificent in building, and adorning Churches.

13. Foure yeares after this Paschalis,* 1.777 Gregorie the Fourth was chosen Pope out of the Monasterie (as some say) of Fossa-noua, where, manie yeares after, S. Thomas of Aquin died, as is recorded of him. This Pope, as al Writers testifie, was eminent in sanctitie, learning, wisdome, and eloquence, and al manner of vertue. And when the Barbarians coming ouer into Sicilie, had made thēselues maisters of the Iland, by his meanes and authoritie the Prince of Corsica setting vpon part of Africk, forced them to retire home againe to defend their owne countrey. And hauing thus happily and holily gouerned the Sea sixteen yeares, he rested in our Lord.

14. Foure yeares againe after this man's decease,* 1.778 Leo the Fourth was assumed to that dignitie out of the Monasterie of S. Martin in Rome, and gouerned the Sea in the great difficulties & dangers, wherin Italie then was by the incursions of barbarous people, that spoyled the whole Countrey, and threatned the vtter destruction of Rome itself; but he put them al to flight, more with his holines, and with lifting-vp his hands to heauen (as another Moyses) then by force of armes; and yet afterwards fortifyed the Cittie of Rome, that it might be the

better able to withstand the like incursions. He entred vpon his charge in the yeare Eight hundred fourtie seauen, and held it eight yeares.

* 1.77915. And in the yeare Nine hundred and two, Leo the Fift was chosen, and sate only fourtie dayes; who, as Trithemius reporteth, was also a Religious man.

16. After him Syluester the Second was the next that was promoted to that Sea from a Monastical course of life, two yeares before the thousand after Christ. He was bred in France in the Monasterie of Floriac, & first made Archbishop of Rhemes, then of Rauenna, and then Christ's Vicar ouer the whole Church; and held the charge foure yeares and six moneths. He was a man compleat in al kind of Learning, as Authours write of him▪ but specially versed in Mathematick & al kind of Philosophie as appeares by the Booke which he hath left in written hand of Geometrie; which Science of his hath been the occasion that people talke that he was a Sorcerer, & that he came by his promotion by sorcerie, and by a compact which he had made with the Diuel; and at last deceaued by the doubtful speaches of the Diuel, died miserably in the church of Holie-Crosse of Hierusalem. Which fable taken vpon trust of ignorant people, hath crept also into the Records of some carelesse writers. But the more learned and more di∣ligent writers shew how this errour came, by reason that there being in that Age but few Philosophers and Mathematicians, they that were giuen to such kind of studies were accounted Astrologers, and Sorcerers; & people beleeued it the rather of this man, because being a stranger, he was notwithstanding preferred to this great honour before al others.

* 1.78017 Againe in the yeare One thousand and nine, Sergius the Fourth and in the yeare One thousand twentie two, Iohn the Nineteenth were placed in the Sea of Rome; the one taken out of the monasterie of S. Anastasius in Rome, the other out of another monasterie not certainly knowne, but of the Order of S. Benedict. Sergius continued in the Chayre not ful three yeares, Iohn sate some nine yeares▪

* 1.78118. Stephen the Ninth was not only a Religious man before he was chosen Pope, but liued a holie and deuout life; for being of noble extraction, & sonne to Cotelo Duke of Lorraine, he was made Cardinal by Leo the Ninth, and sent Legat to Constantinople to reconcile the Grecians to the Latin Church, which also he performed. Returning to Rome, and finding Pope Leo dead, wearie of the world, he retired himself to the Monasterie of Mount-Cassino, where he ap∣plied himself so seriously to this new warfare of Christ (so great a man as he was) that he wonne the good opinion of al, and within lesse then two yeares was chosen Abbot of that place. And coming to Pope Victor the Second to haue his Election confirmed by him as the manner then was, not only obtayned what he came for, but was againe created Cardinal by him; & Victor dying not long after, he was by the consent of al placed in his Chayre in the yeare One thousand fiftie seauen;* 1.782 but continued not therin scarce eight moneths, before death seazed him, to the great grief of al that knew him. And not long after, to wit, in the yeare One thousand seauentie three, the administration of the Church of God fel againe into the hands of Religious men, & cōtinued among thē ••••••tie yeares togeather, to the great benefit & contentment of al Christians.

* 1.78319. The first of them was Gregorie the Seauenth, a Florentine borne; but yet he followed Gregorie the Sixt (whome the Emperour Hen••ie had thrust out of the Po••edome) into France▪ & Gregorie dying, he shut himself into the Monaste∣rie of 〈…〉〈…〉 few yeares

he was made Abbot of that Monasterie. Soone after, he was in so great fauour with Leo the Ninth, Victor the Second, and Sthephan the Ninth, that they would doe nothing without his aduice; & much more was he in grace with Alexander the Second, whome he succeeded; and gouerned the sea so like himself, that diuers Authours affirme, that since the Apostles times there hath not beene a Pope, that hath taken more paynes then he for the Church of God, or gone through more trouble, or stoode more constantly for the liberties therof. He excommunicated Henr•••• the Fourth twice as a deadlie enemie of the Church, & freed al his subiects from their Alleageance, nothing daunted with his power & the great armie, which he brought before the Cittie of Rome. He did the like to Nicephorus, that had inuaded the Empire of the East. Hilbertus Archbishop of Rauenna being in faction against him, surprised him, and cast him into prison, vpon Christmas-day at night; but in the morning the people, that loued him dearely, thronging togeather, tooke him out by force. And manie other things without number he endured courageously, and decreed with great wisedome, in the twelue yeares which he gouerned the Church.

20. Victor the Third succeeded him,* 1.784 sonne to the Prince of Beneuentum, who in his youth being constrayned to marrie a wife, fled to the Monasterie of Mount-Cassino, before he touched her; where he was created Abbot, & afterward made Cardinal by Gregorie the Seauenth, & after his decease was esteemed the fittest to vndertake the gouernment of the Church, in which charge he was not only conspicuous for his Religious pietie & modestie, but for such courage, as might beseeme a General of an armie. For he thrust out of Rome the Antipope by force of armes, & leauying a great armie from al parts of Italie, he sent it into Africk, with such happie successe by the special help of God, that he had both the vi∣ctorie miraculously at the verie first entrance into the land, & the newes of it in Italie the verie selfsame day, that the armies met, which was yet more strange. Finally holding a Councel al Beneuentum, he was taken with his last sicknes, & caused himself to be carryed to Mount-Cassino; that, where first he had receaued the spirit of Religion, there among the prayers of his Bretheren he might more securely and holily giue-vp his last breath, which he did a yeare and three mo∣reths after he had taken the Pastoral charge vpon him, that a man may iustly wonder, how he could be able to thinke of so manie things as he did, much more how he could performe them in so short a time.

21. Viban•••• the Second succeeded him, taken out of the Monasterie of Cluni in Fráce. He gouerned the Church somewhat more then eleuen yeares, & shewed himself a notable Pope. For gathering three Councels in Italie, he decreed ma∣nie vseful things, both for the quieting of those turbulent times, and for refor∣mation of manners. Then he went into France, and as he visited manie Citties, he ordayned manie holesome things; & among the rest in the Councel of Cler∣mont, ••e proclaimed the voyage to the Holie land; for which enterprise there were leauyed three hundred thousand foot, and a hundred thousand horse; by which forces at that time the Holie-land was recouered.

22. Pa••chalis the Second,* 1.785 a Monk of Mount-Cassino, much against his wil, and much lamenting his case▪ was in the yeare One thousand ninetie nine, pla∣cedia the Chay••e of S. Peter with so general consent of the people and the Clergie and the Cardinals, that he could not possibly withstand 〈◊〉〈◊〉. He gouer∣ned the Church eighteen yeares, in which time he passed through manie

changes of times, and manie difficulties, and shewed great courage in them. For by his wisdome & dexteritie he extinguished the Schisme, which had manie yeares most miserably distracted the Church of Christ through the infidelitie of some great Princes. He also restored & enlarged the dominiōs of the Church, which had been inuaded by seueral persons; & hauing suppressed manie other seditious proceedings, & composed manie differences of Christian Princes and Common-wealths, he was so beloued of al men, that returning to Rome, he got his last sicknes in the presse of people, that came to meete him; and died.

* 1.78623. Gelasi••s the Second did somewhat repayre the losse. He was also breed-vp from his infancie in Mount-Cassino, & had been made Cardinal by Vrban the Se∣cond; and liued in his Pontifical dignitie with great sanctitie of life and tempe∣rance; a man of great learning and eloquence, as Authours write, which was half a miracle in those dayes. He was much encombred through the factious proceedings of some wicked men, and chiefly by the Emperour Henrie and most vnworthily also beaten by some of his followers; but he tooke the iniurie as it beseemed the Vicar of Christ, imitating his meekenes, and following the example of Ionas, after the second tempest raysed by his occasion, he went into France, where he dyed in the Monasterie of Cluny, hauing held the Chayre but one yeare.

24. And presently the Cardinals, that were in his companie, gaue the dignitie to Callistus the Second,* 1.787 who was sonne to Wilyam duke of Burgundie, and had been a Monk either in the Monasterie of Palleri or luns (for Authours doe varie in it) and was then Archbishop of Vienne. A wise man, & dexterous in businesses, as it is recorded of him, and in effect he shewed it. For he was scarce arriued in Rome, but he surprized 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Antipope, and cast him into prison; and making peace with the Emperour Henrie vpon good con∣dition, he appeased the controuersies, which had long time wronged the Church. And continuing neere vpon six yeares in his Pastoral care, he died in the yeare One thousand one hundred twentie foure, to the great regret of euerie bodie, and much longing that he might haue liued longer.

25. One and twentie yeares after his decease, there followed three Popes one after an other taken out of Religious Orders;* 1.788 and first Eugenius the Third a Cistercian Monk, though he were not so much as Cardinal before, but only Abbot of the Monasterie of ••••••-fontane, which is yet extant; so great was the opinion which people had of his vertue and wisdome S. Bernard in his Epistle to the Court of Rome doth much admire this their proceeding.* 1.789

God forgiue you (sayth he) what haue you done? You haue produced a man that was bu∣ried in his graue; a man that was fled from the companie and trouble of men, you haue thrust him againe into care and trouble; he that was crucifyed to the world, is raysed againe to the world by you; & he that had chosen to be abiect in the house of his God, you haue chosen him to be Lord ouer al. He had power∣fully freed himself from the allurements of the flesh, and from the glorie of the world, as from the violent hands of the Diuel; and yet he could not escape your hands. What reason or counsel was there in this business? so soone as the Pope was dead, presently to rush-in vpon a countrey-fellow; to lay hands vpon one that had hid himself; and taking from him his axe, or his hatchet, or his spade, to drawe him to Court, to place him in the Chayre, to cloath him

in purple and silk, to gyrd him with a sword, to doe vengeance in nations, repre∣hensions in the people, and to tye their kings in fetters, and their nobles in manicles of iron.

So; was there not among you a wise and practical man, to whom these things might better agree? In very deed it seemes a ridiculous thing, that a thread-bare fellow should be assumed to gouerne Princes, to command Bishops, to dispose of Kingdomes and Empires. Shall I say, it is ridiculous, or miraculous? certainly it is one of them.

This was the astonishment which S. Bernard conceaued in the busines; and agreeth no lesse to al the rest of whom we haue hitherto spoken, or shal heerafter reckon, as raysed from Religious Humilitie to so great Honour; for in al of them there is part of that miracle which S. Bernard mentioned.

26. But to returne to Eugenius, we may guesse how vertuous he was, and how much he loued Religion, by that which we find written of him; to wit, that vnder the splendour of his Pontifical attire, he wore his Monastical weed, that is a wollen garment next him, and his Hood, in which also he alwayes slept, and his bed was of straw only, though the bedsteed were guilt, and hung with courtins of purple-silk; by which meanes he outwardly carried the Ma∣iestie which beseemed his place in the eyes of men, and inwardly in the eyes of God he neuer forsooke his Religious Humilitie. After he had visited France, and among other things, giuen the Crosse to King Lewis for the voyage into the Holie Land, returning to Rome, and being receaued with great ioy, he died in the eighth yeare of his Popedome,* 1.790 when Anastasius the Fourth succeeded, Abbot of the Monasterie of S. Rufus in the Diocese of Veliterra; and in one yeare of his Popedome (for he sate no longer) he gaue great signes of vertues, and chiefly of liberalitie towards the poore, releeuing them plentifully in a great dearth, which wasted almost al Europe.

27. Adrian the Fourth succeeded Anastasius in the yeare One thousand one hundred fiftie foure.* 1.791 He was an English-man borne, and as some say Abbot of the Monasterie of S. Rufus in France, afterwards made Cardinal by Eugenius the Fourth, and Legate into Swedeland and Norway, great part of which Countrey he brought to the Faith and worship of Christ. Being put in the Chayre and office of S. Peter, for the time that he held it (which was fiue yeares and eight moneths) he maintayned the dignitie of the Apostolical Sea in manie things; and particularly in excommunicating Wiliam King of Sicilie, and depriuing him of his right to the Kingdome, for spoyling some townes belonging to the Patrimonie of the Church of Rome.

28. A good space after him, to wit in the yeare One thousand two hundred ninetie foure,* 1.792 Celestin the Fift was raysed from this dust of Religion, to sit in the Throne of glorie. From a child he went into the wildernes, and liued there manie yeares; afterwards he founded a Religious Order, which being spred farre and neere, himself liuing a very austere life, and working manie mira∣cles, his sanctitie grew so famous, that wheras the Cardinals could not for two whole yeares agree vpon the election of a new Pope, they al gaue their voyces to this man, though he were absent and hidden from the world; and his Con∣secration was honoured with the concourse of more then two hundred thou∣sand people. Being Pope he slacked not the rigour of his life, nor the humilitie of his conuersation, and within a short time began so to loath the noyse and

smoake of Court, and so to long after his wonted quiet, that he resolved to shake-of that troublesome burthen and care, notwithstanding the people of Naples (whither he had retired himself) and King Charles were much against it; & the people, wheresoeuer they met him, with lowd voice beseeched him, he would not doe so. Yet fiue moneths were scarce at an end, when he gaue ouer his charge; diuers bewayling the losse of him, others admiring so great hu∣militie, and an example therof neuer heard-of til that day.

* 1.79329. In the number of these Popes the memorie of Benedict the Twelfth is venerable. He was assumed to that charge in the yeare One thousand three hundred thirtie foure, from the Cistercian Order, hauing been Abbot of a mo∣nasterie in France called Moni-froid. Manie notable things are recounted of him, both publick and priuate; and in particular, that he preferred none of his kindred to anie Ecclesiastical Office, saying, that the Pope had no kindred. Whereby & for his manie other vertues, he was so wel beloued of al, that dying after he had sate seauen yeares, his funerals were honoured with manie teares, as it is recorded of him.

* 1.79430. The vertue of his successour Clement the Sixt alayed part of the common grief.* 1.795 He was a Monka••d Abbot of a monasterie called Casa-Dei in the Diocese of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, a man of a great wit, and great learning, & hauing been made Car∣dinal by his predecessour Benedict, when they came to choose an other Pope, he easily carried it by the consent of al, and in his Popedome to his other prayses he ••dded singular munificence and liberalitie beseeming a Pope, that is a com∣mon Father and Pastour of al. He contracted the yeares of Iubilie from a hun∣dred yeares to fiftie. He held the Chayre ten yeares to the great contentment of the whole world.

40. Not long after, to wit, in the yeare One thousand three hundred sixtie two, Vrban the Fift Abbot of S. Victor was assumed to the sterne of the Church;* 1.796 a man, in the iudgement of al men, of singular vertue, greate courage, vnspotted life, and one that applyed himself wholy to the common good. After he had sate eight yeares, by the special prouidence of God passing by 〈◊〉〈◊〉, he gaue vp the ghost in the selfsame Monasterie, where he had been bred, in the assemblie of manie Monks, much comforted in beholding them, and much assisted by their prayers.

* 1.79741. These are al the Popes which haue been Monks, vnlesse perhaps some haue escaped me at ••nawares; now we wil looke into other Religious Families also, wherein it can be no wonder if we find fewer, because the Orders themselues are much later. In S. Dominick his Order we find that three of them haue been Popes, vnlesse we wil reckon Iohn of Vercels to be the fourth; of whom we reade in their Chronicles, that hauing been Gouernour of his whole Order twentie yeares, and gone on foot to al the Monasteries therof, it being at that time dis∣persed in a manner through the whole world, in the Conclaue which was held betwixt the times of Nicolas the Third, & Martin the Second, in the yeare One thousand two hundred and fourescore, by cōsent of the Cardinals he was cho∣sen Pope▪ and being absent, dyed before he could haue newes therof, preserued from manie troubles which that weightie Charge would haue drawne vpon him. Leauing him therefore who was designed to that Charge, but neuer vn∣dertook it, the first of this Order that was placed in it, was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the First,

which name of his, and that also which he had before of Petrus Tarantasius,* 1.798 is wel enough knowne by the Books which he hath left written. Entring vpon this dignitie in the yeare One thousand two hundred seauentie six, he presently gaue his mind to pacifye the discords, which had set al Italie on fire. For wheras the Florentius had been long in armes against those of Pisa, and the Venetians against the Genoueses, he excommunicated al that would not presently lay downe their armes; and had doubtlesse brought this and farre greater things to passe, if God had lent him life, which he enioyed but seauen moneths.

42. In the yeare One thousand three hundred and three,* 1.799 Benedict the Eleuenth was chosen out of the same Order, and liued in his Charge much about the same length of time, to wit, eight moneths; but supplyed the shortnes therof with his famous deeds. For by the verdict of al, he was a man of wonderful wisdome and sanctitie; and while he was General of his Or∣der (hauing long and laudably borne that office) receauing letters in his Monasterie of Narbona from Pope Boniface the Eight, wherin the Pope com∣manded him to admit of a Cardinal's Hat, he almost blotted-out the letters with his teares, and yet could not but obey the commandment. In the time of his Popedome, how manie profitable things did he ordaine, decree, and establish in a short time, specially being to succeed Bonifacius, who had a turbulent time of it; and to cure the wounds, which Christianitie had formerly receaued? He proiected to gaine Syria and Palestine out of the hands of the Barbarians; which sheweth his zeale and courage. But yet, in my iudgement; it was a greater matter, that when his mother, who was yet liuing, a poore and needie woman, came to Rome to con∣gratulate him, and presented herself before him in costlie attire, such as friends had abundantly furnished her with; he taking no notice of her, but as if she had been a stranger, asked, who that Noble-woman was? and being answered, that it was his mother: No certainly (sayth he) for I know my mo∣ther is very poore, and hath not wherewithal to cloath herself in this manner. At which words she blushing went her wayes; and returning not long after in her owne apparrel, the Pope rose-vp vnto her, acknowledged her for his mother, and friendly entertayned her. Where shal we find a more temperate and mortifyed man? or what greater testimonie can we require of the sanctitie of anie man, then such humilitie, which doubtlesse he learned no-where but in Religion? So that it is no wonder, if he wrought miracles after his death, as they write of him.* 1.800

43. The third Pope of this Order was Pius V. for vertue like to Benedict, farre beyond him for the businesses which passed through his hands: and the memorie of him is yet fresh in mens minds. What can we say worthie of his vertue? Who being created Pope in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred threescore and six, in the seauen yeares, which he liued not fully com∣pleate, shewed againe to the world the vertues of the ancient Popes, such a Religious discipline doth teach; as frugalitie, innocencie of life, and won∣derful deuotion; and such as are proper to great Princes, as munificence, prouidence, strict rigour of iustice, courage in warre against Hereticks, and against the Turck••; entring league with the Spanyards, and the

Venetians, and by that meanes defeating a great nauie which these Infidels had prepared. These were the vertues which got him an opinion of sanctitie, not only among Christians, but euen among the enemies of God's Church. And these be the three Popes, which hitherto haue been assumed to that digni∣tie out of the Order of S. Dominick.

* 1.80144. The Order of S. Francis hath had one more. The first was Nicolas the Fourth in the yeare One thousand two hundred eightie eight; and liued foure yeares in the Charge, deseruing exceeding wel of al Christianitie by his dili∣gence and care in performing al things belonging to his Pastoral function. And among other things his carriage towards his kindred was memorable; for he was wont to say, that he owed them no more then he owed anie good man whatsoeuer. And being rid of this household-bond, as I may cal it, he was the freer to attend to the common good of the Church, and was careful in it, for he appeased manie controuersies betwixt Christian Princes, and brought them into league one with an other; and recouered also by force some Citties be∣longing to the Church, which had been vniustly vsurped by others. And yet how vnwilling he was to be in honour, he shewed long before, by that which he did when he was made Cardinal by Gregorie the Tenth. For hauing receaued newes of it by letters in France, he wrote againe to the Pope as effectually as he could, beseeching him to excuse him; and in the meane time, til a new command came, he would not alter anie thing concerning himself. And it is moreouer reported of him, that he was wont to say, he had rather be cooke of a Monasterie, then Cardinal.

* 1.80245. Alexander the Fift followed not long after in the yeare One thousand three hundred and nine, though the honour abided not long in him, to wit, some ten moneths, yet in so short a time he gaue manie demonstrations of a deuout and noble mind. For he depriued Ladislaus of his Kingdome, a power∣ful King, and a great enemie to Ecclesiastical libertie. He was so liberal to∣wards the poore, not only during his Popedome, but in al his former life, that it is recorded that he was wont to say in ••east of himself, that he was a rich Bishop, a poore Cardinal, and a beggar when he was Pope.

* 1.80346. Sixtus the Fourth was of the same Order, placed in the Chayre, in the yeare One thousand foure hundred seauentie and one, and sate thirteen yea∣res; a man rare for al that belongs to wit, or learning, or prudence in handling of businesses. He shewed his zeale, both in the warres which he made for de∣fence of the Dominions of the Church, and in setting-forth a nauie against the Turcks.

47. The fourth that out of the Order of S. Francis hath been exalted to this dignitie,* 1.804 is Sixtus V. he that holdeth the sterne at the time that we are wri∣ting this; of whose life and actions we wil say nothing for the present, least we may seeme to flatter him; specially seing no toung can so wel expresse that which is in him, as his owne liuelie presence. He was charged with the Pasto∣ral care in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred eightie fiue; and this is the fourth yeare that he holdeth it.

48. Besides these, there be two other Popes of two other Orders, to wit, Eugenius the Fourth,* 1.805 and Paul the Fourth. Eugenius was of the Monasterie of S. Gregor••e in Alga in Venice, of that Order which S. Laurence Iustinian liuing

at the self-same time, and famous for al kind of vertue, did much illustrate. He liued in the Pastoral charge neere vpon sixteen yeares, hauing been promoted therunto in the yeare One thousand foure hundred thirtie one. Of whom al Writers agree, that he was diligent in the warres he waged for the Church, graue and wise in peace, liberal towards people of learning, patient in occasions of wrong done him, and a special Patron of Religious people, granting them manie priuiledges and franchises, and also great re∣uennues. But his maister-peece was the breaking of the neck of the Councel of Basle, which began to make head against the Pope's authoritie; but partly by courage, partly by his singular wisdome & prudence, he disappointed their de∣signes, & called an other Councel first at Ferrara, and afterwards translated it to Florence, whither Iohn Paleologus Emperour of Greece came, and acknow∣ledged the Pope of Rome to be Head of the Church.* 1.806 Paul the Fourth was not only a Religious man, but Founder of a Religious Order of Regular Priests. For first giuing ouer his Bishoprick of Theate, he betooke himself to a pri∣uate and solitarie life; afterwards others, that had the like purposes and re∣solution, ioyning with him, he began a new course of Religious discipline, and professed it publickly in a great assemblie in S. Peter's Church in Rome, togeather with them of his Companie, in presence of the Clergie of that Church, at the Tombe of the Apostles, making the three Vowes which are common to al Religious people, in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred twentie eight, vpon the day of the Exaltation of the Crosse; and from thence we account the beginning of this Order, which since hath been very much encreased, and doth dayly spreade itself more and more to the great benefit of the Religious themselues, and al others. Paul himself, who was then cal∣led Iohn Peter Carasa, was not long after made Cardinal by Pope Paul the Third, and created Pope in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred fiftie fiue; and sate foure yeares.

49. These are the Popes, which we find vpon record taken out of Re∣ligious Orders; whose promotion doubtles is a great honour to that course of life, not only by reason of the greatnes of that dignitie, as I sayd be∣fore, but much more for the vnspeakable benefit, which the learning, and sanctitie••, and wisdome of so manie rare men hath brought to the Church of God in al Ages, and in al kind of businesses, as we see it hath. Wherefore though there were nothing els in Religion, this alone were sufficient to conclude, that a Religious course of life hath deserued very much of al Chri∣stians and Christendome.

Of Prelats that haue been taken out of Religious Orders. CHAP. XXIX.

TO the glorie, which hath accrued to Religion by the manie Popes, so often and with such benefit of the Church, taken out of Religious Orders, we may adde another degree of splendour not farre inferiour to the former, arising from the like choice of other Prelats out of the same Religious discipline, to no smal profit of Christianitie in al Ages. We haue set downe the number, and the names, and the order of the succession of the Popes that haue been Religious, but it is impossible to doe the like in rehearsing other Prelats, because the number of them is without number; neither do we find al their names vpon record; and though they had been al registred, it were not worth the labour to reckon them vp seuerally.

* 1.8072. For first, if we speake of Cardinals, Trithemius a careful and diligent Writer, doth shew, that of Benedictius only there had been til his time (which was about a hundred yeares since) fourescore Cardinals,* 1.808 whose names were extant, besides manie others that were not knowne. And I find that the Dominicans haue had thirtie, and the Franciscans three and fourtie of their Or∣der, of other Orders there haue not been so manie, yet most of them haue had some. And wheras these men were chosen to this dignitie, not in conside∣ration of the noblenes of their bloud, nor for their ambitious pretences, but by reason of their long tryed and approued learning, vertue, and pietie; it is no wonder, that we may truly say, they did not so much receaue, as they did adde honour to the honour, to which they were assumed. For to omit manie others, what a man was Cardinal Torq e••••d••, and Ca••e••an, and S. Bonauenture ancien∣ter then them both? and diuers besides, whom we shal not need to speake of; themselues hauing got so great renowne as the world knowes, both by their learned pennes and noble actions.

* 1.8093. Much lesse shal we need to speake of Arch-Bishops, and Bishops; it is so euident, that there haue been in a manner infinit preferred to these sa∣cred degrees of Dignitie out of al ancient and moderne Orders. S. Antonine,* 1.810 a knowne graue Authour, reckoned a hundred twentie fiue of S. Dominick's Or∣der, til his dayes; adding that he nameth not al, but rather few. And least a bodie might think, that it was the deuour disposition of those times, which cast these dignities vpon them, we can reckon in these last three-score and ten yeares, wherof the memorie is yet fresh, ab••ue a hundred and foure-score Franciscans only that haue been Bishops, which a man may iustly wonder at. What shal I say of the Benedictins?* 1.811 of whome alone Trithemius aboue mentioned hath collected to the number of aboue fiue thousand threescore and ten:* 1.812 which no man hath cause to find strange, considering that antien••ly the name of a Monck was so venerable, that Bishops were almost euerie where chosen only out of Monasteries.* 1.813 In so much that Sulpi••••us

relating of manie Bishops, which had been elected out of the Couent, which S. Martin founded, he concludeth thus: For what Cittie or Church was there, which desired not a Bishop of S. Martin's Monasterie?

4. Throughout al Greece it was so general a custome, that to this verie day, notwithstanding the Schisme in which they liue, they consecrate no Pa∣triarck or Bishop that is not a Monck. In other Countries it was also very fre∣quent, so long as the Dignities of the Church were not so ambitiously preten∣ded, but cast vpon those, that were farre from desiring, and farther from wil∣lingly thrusting themselues vpon them, vpon those, I say, that did rather in∣deed resist their promotion, and decline it as a heauie burthen. Who can ex∣presse, how beneficial the light of these men, placed vpon a candlestick, was not only to the people whome they had in charge, but to other both people & Pastours, that learned to gouerne their flock by their forme of gouernment and example? For where is it possible for men to learne the Art of Arts (as S. Gregorie stileth the busines of gouerning of soules) more exactly then in Religion?* 1.814 For that which is now growne into a common Prouerb, is most true, that No man can profitably be ouer another, that is not willingly vnder; and hath not learned how to be so.* 1.815 And doubtles the hardnes of the work requiring great forces, no place is more apt to breed them, or by daylie practise and exercise to encrease them, then Religion.

5. Innocentius the Fourth vnderstood this point very wel; and accordingly it is recorded of him, that he chose so often and so manie Bishops out of Re∣ligious Orders, and chiefly from among the Dominicans, that euerie bodie did wonder at him; which though it were a great credit to the Order, yet most of the Religious tooke it very heauily for diuers reasons, and particularly because they found themselues bereaued of their principal and grauest Fa∣thers. And therupon their General Iohn Teuto laying open his owne and his whole Orders aggrieuance to the Pope in this behalf, and earnestly beseeching him that he would from thence-forward leaue the Religious of that Order in the humilitie, which they had professed; the Pope made him answer in the words of our Sauiour:* 1.816 that the candle is not to be hidden, but to be set in the midst, that it may giue light to the whole house; and that the Maister condemned the Seruant that had hid his talent.

6. Moreouer it is of no smal moment that these kind of people come not by stealth into the sheep-cote,* 1.817 b•••• enter by the doore; that is, they hunt not alter these dignities vpon ambitious desire of honour or wealth, but being lawfully called, they obey the voice and commandment of God. So that being chosen in this manner, and bringing with them the vertue, which is ne∣cessarie for the performance of their charge,* 1.818 they must needs be both fit in∣struments for great matters, and bring forth most plentiful fruit for the glorie of God by their industrie. Witnes S. Basil, and his equal in time and bosome-friend S. Gregorie Nazianzen. Both their atchieuements are wel knowne to the world; S. Basil's against the heretical Emperour Valens; S. Gregorie's against the Arians, the Macedonians, the followers of Apollinaris, and against Iulian the Apostate;* 1.819 and once he ran hazard of his life, because the seditious people began to throw stones at him, while he constantly stood for God's cause.

7. S. Iohn Chrysostome was not inferiour vnto them in vertue and

constancie, both against Gainas an Arian Prince, and against the Empresse Eudoxia, not sticking publickly in a Sermon, which he made, to cal her an other Herodias. In a later Age S. Fulgentius was not behind in courage;* 1.820 for him∣self alone withstood the storme, which wicked King Trasimond had raysed against the Catholicks; encouraging the Faithful, and danting his aduersaties very much by his great learning, and sanctitie, and by the admirable eloquence of his tongue, so farre that he was bannished into Sardinia; yet parting with the great grief of al, he prophecied that he should shortly returne; and so it hapned. For Trasimond dying not long after, his successour Hilderick restored the Church to the former peace.

* 1.8218. And to come yet lower, S. Anselme Archbishop of Canterburie came out of the same schoole of Religion; and often shewed, how much he had profited therin; but particularly in his opposition against King Henrie of Eng∣land, who diuiding himself from Pope Vrban, stood in Schisme against him, and commanded that no Appeale should be made to Rome in al his Kingdome. S. Anselme gathered a National Councel to deliberate vpon this busines; and wheras al the Bishops, and Abbots, and Peeres of the Realme held of for feare of the King, he alone with two others only, whom he had wonne to himself by his authoritie, stood for the Pope, and voluntarily went into ban∣nishment, rather then he would yeald to vniustice.

* 1.8229. Wiliam a Monk of the Cistercian Order may be rancked with these great men, whom nothing could compel to vndertake the Bishoprick of Burges but the command of his Abbot, and of the Pope's Legate, both of them by sh••rp letters willing him not to withdraw himself from that which was the wil of God. In that dignitie he neuer put-of his Religious weed, he neuer eate flesh, nor remitted anie thing of his former obseruances; but to his pri∣ua••e vertues he added those, which are proper to them that haue care of s••u∣les, neuer c••asing to feed his flock by publick Sermons, and priuate conuer∣sation, and manie profitable decrees and lawes: he maintayned continually whole troups of poore people at his owne charges; he courageously withstood the King of France trenching vpon the Ecclesiastical liberties, and stopped the fu••••e of the Hereticks that raged in Guienne, sending diuers of his Cister∣cian Monks to preach among them; and when that would not doe, gathering an armie by consent of the Pope, and sowing a Crosse vpon his garment, made himself in a manner commander of it; and though he dyed before the armie marched, yet there is no doubt, but he assisted much more from heauen towards the victorie, which not long after the Catholick partie wonne against their enemies. And thus haue these Religious men and Saints behaued them∣selues in opposition against the enemies of God. What haue they done in peace, and calmer times, as in a field more sutable for Religious people to trauel in, their endeauours euer bending rather to peace and quiet? And accordingly we find that in the quiet times of Christendome, the vigilācie of such Pastours hath been the more remarkable, attēding to feed their flock by example, word, and work, so much the more gloriously and with greater effect, by how much more their famous endeauours were euer coupled with admirable contempt of huma•••• thin••••; which vertue doth make them more pliant to the seruice of God, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 others more readie to giue credit vnto them.

10. Boniface about the yeare One thousand one hundred and fiftie,* 1.823 borne of the bloud Royal, and neer kinsman to the Emperour Otho the Third, and so highly in his fauour, as the Emperour was wont to cal him his Soule, entred into the Order of S. Romualdus, and hauing done pennance a long time in it, he was moued by instinct of God to goe and preach the Ghospel to the Russians; which the Pope agreed vnto, and moreouer made him Archbishop of that Countrey; notwithstanding which dignitie, he altered nothing from his former rigour of Abstinence and hard cloathing; but riding on hors-back barefoot, the cold being extreme violent, when he lighted, his foot was frosen to the stirrop, so that he could not pul it out, but that he had some warme water brought him to bathe it in. Which poore fashion of liuing brought-forth wonderful fruit in short time. For coming to that Barbarous nation of the Russians, & beginning to preach the Faith of Christ to the King, at first the King made account that he came to tel them some strange things, whereby to get himself some releef; but finding that he constantly refused the great guifts with which he had cau∣sed him to be present••d, and moreouer seing him passe through the fire without anie hurt, he not only embraced the Ghospel togeather with his whole King∣dome, but making his sonne his heyre, he resolued himself to become disciple to S. Boniface; and had effected it, had not S. Boniface within a short time after been most barbarously slaine by the King's brother; which hapned wel for him, and according to an ancient desire which he had of suffering Martyrdome for Christ Which kind of examples are frequent in older times; and yet of later yeares also there neuer haue wanted in the house of God the like burning and shining lights, as Andrew Bishop of Fi••sol••,* 1.824 about the yeare of Christ One thousand three hundred and sixteen; who being a Carmel•••• was put into that Episcopal dignitie much against his wil, a•• he euidently shewed; because pre∣sently vpon the first notice that he heard that such a thing was in handling, he hid himself in a Monasterie of the Car••••••s••••s, til in an assemblie of the Canons, that had chosen him, he was by God's permission discouered by the speech of an infant; and at the self-same instant a child in a white garment appeared to him also, bidding him not resist any longer the wil of God, which was the oc∣casion of his making Bishop; and telling him, there was an Angel appointed him for his Guardian, to direct him in the performance of God's pleasure•• He being therefore so euidently chosen, not by men, but by God, we may easily imagin, how he carried himself in his Pastoral function. Among other things it is recorded of him, that he was so louing and liberal towards the poore, that he had al their names written downe in a paper, & could not behold them with∣out teares. His wisdome was such, as besides the Decrees, which he made in his owne Dioces, he appeased with great dexteritie a domestical dissention which was risen in Bologna, being sent thither to that purpose by Vrban the fift, reconciling both parties, and preuenting infinit danger, which was coming vpon that cittie. Finally much more is recorded of this man's vertue and sancti∣tie, wherof we haue testimonie enough in the miracles, which he wrought, and in that he is Canonized for a Saint.

11. What shal we say of Laurentius Iustinianus;* 1.825 who hauing lead a Religious life for thirtie yeares togeather, & at last being charged by Eugenius the Fourth with a Pastoral function, vsed al meanes and al entreatie, and made vse of al

his friends to decline it; and when he could doe no more, he admitted of it, and handled it so, that to al mens thinking nothing could be added to his wise∣dome in gouerning, his zeale of God's honour, his fortitude in withstanding great men, and his care of the poore, towards whome he was rather accounted profuse. Insomuch that they write of him that both the people of his Diocese, and strangers from forrain places, had recourse vnto him as to an Angel sent from heauen; and that as often as he went abroad, people thronged after him to behold him.

* 1.82612. S. Antonine was his equal in time and vertue, compelled to take vpon him the Chaire of Florence by the same Eugenius, and shewed no lesse pietie, and skil in gouerning, then he hath shewed learning and erudition in his written Bookes. It is written of him, that he much reformed the Clergie of that Church, and visited al his Dioces himself in person; and in time of the sicknes, like a good shep-heard, did not refuse to goe to the infected as they lay raging in their disease, to comfort and refresh them; leading about with him a beast loaden with physick, to minister vnto them; finally that he was so profuse towards the poore, that hauing but three loaues of bread in his house, he gaue them to the poore, though not without ful gaynes and recompence; for the selfsame binne, that was emptie before, was presently found ful of bread, and that very white. We shall not need to say anie thing of his wisedome; because, when he was but yet a priuate man, he was as it were an Oracle in al doubtful questions, at home and abroad; insomuch that euen then he was commonly knowne by the name of Antonine the Counsellour.* 1.827 Great was also the feruour and constancie, wherewith he more then once defended the liberties of the Church against those that were in highest authoritie. In which busines he once answered one that threatned him grieuously, that he did not feare him, because he had stil a corner, wherunto he should no: vnwillingly retire himself; and withal shewed him the key of his Celle, which he kept of his Monasterie; giuing to vnderstand besides, from whence he had receaued so much courage.

13. Manie like examples we might lay togeather not only out of Italie, from whence the former are taken, but from people beyond the Seas, and beyond the A••••••s, among whome Religion did anciently wonderfully flourish; but because our intent is not heer to write a Historie of these things, we wil cōtent ourselues with one S. Dunstan,* 1.828 who, about the yeare One thousand & twentie, being Abbot of Glastenburie, was made Archbishop of Canterburie; in which dignitie it is incredible how nobly, and how beneficially to his flock he carried himself. We find in particular, that he was wont to rebuke the two Kings, ••••••elstan and Edward his successour, with such freedome and confidence, that he was twice bannished for that cause, and yet called back againe, and vsed by the selfsame Kings in publick businesses of great weight; such was the opinion which they had of his wisedome. He was rare also for his guift and feruour in preaching the Word of God; and one Ascension day, as he was at ••••s prayers, preparing for a Sermon, an infinit number of Angels clad in white presented themselues vnto him, and told him, that they came to carrie him to heauen, if notwithstanding he were readie. He answered them, that for his part. he was readie, but yet it would grieue him, if vpon so high a Day the people would be frustrated of the food of the Word of God. And the Angels taking

his excuse, appointed the next day to come for him; wherin he departed with excessiue ioy.

14. In these our dayes we haue had occasion to behold the like vertue in diuers Prelats, and particularly in Martin Sarmiento a Franciscan-Friar;* 1.829 who hauing long laboured with abundant fruit, in the Prouince of Mexico in the West-Indies, was at last presented with the Bishoprick of that place; but stood constant in the refusal of it, til commanded by his Superiour in vertue of holie Obedience he accepted it. And hauing vndertaken it, he altered not his hum∣ble and austere manner of life; but wore the Habit he did before, and trauelled about al his Dioces alwaies on foot, with one of his Friars for his Companion; and finally dyed in the performance of his function, hauing spent three whole dayes one after an other in ministring the Sacrament of Confirmation.

15. Which examples, in my opinion, doe make it much clearer then anie reason or proofe by argument can doe, that Religious Orders haue in al times been, as it were, a Seminarie or Nurserie of Prelats; and of Prelats that haue been exceeding beneficial both to their owne charge by their worthie labours, and to others by the•••• example of life.

Of the fruit, which Religious people haue brought-forth in the Church of God. CHAP. XXX.

WHEN the wisdome of God had begun to lay the grounds of the Order of the Gray-friars in S. Francis and his eleuen first Companions,* 1.830 and this new ofspring was vpon the poynt of being brought forth, it was represented in a Vision to Pope Innocent after this manner. He conceaued that he saw the Church of S. Iohn Lateran (where at that time the Pope had his Pallace) gaping at the foundation,* 1.831 and readie to fal; and that a poore beggarlie fellow came running towards it and held it vp with his shoulders. When not long after S. Francis with his little Companie presented himself be∣fore him, demanding approbation of his Rule; the Pope beholding him atten∣tiuely, and weighing his Rule with good aduice, made no questi••n but that he was the poore man, that was shewed him in the Vision aboue mentioned; and the euent proued it true. For not only that Age, wherin this Order sprung vp, was wonderfully enlightned and holpen by it, but it hath euer strengthned and vpheld the Church of God these 376. yeares, which it hath continued since the first beginning of it.

2. Which commendation, as vndoubtedly it belongeth not falsly and idly but by the true and solide testimonie of that heauenlie Vision to the Order of S. Francis; so, in my opinion, it may as truly be giuen to the Order of S. Do∣minick, which hath laboured in the same cause with no lesse industrie; and in like manner to al other Orders, which our Lord from time to time hath sent fresh workmen at diuers houres into his vinyard. And if it may be sayd of euerie

one of them seuerally,* 1.832 that they haue been so beneficial for the defence, and cultiuating, and maintaining of the dignitie of the Church; how much more truly may we say it of al of thē togeather? So that we must needs conclude, that the profit and fruit, which Religious Orders haue wrought in the world since they were founded, is vnspeakable. For setting al other things aside, their prayers only & hidden deserts in the sight of God, certainly are very powerful to reconcile him to mankind. Vpon which ground S. Bernard saith,* 1.833 that they are ordained to pray for the bodie of the Church, for the liuing and for the dead; and S. Gregorie Nazianzene,* 1.834 that their teares are the deluge of sinne; the world's satisfaction, and purging; and Eusebius, as being consecrated to God in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of al mankind. ••ho therefore can imagine, from how manie mischiefs, and what disasters, the world hath been freed by their intercession, what be∣nefits their prayers haue obtained? how often our Lord hath been appeased not only at their humble suit, but at the verie sight of their good deeds? But to say no more of the account which God makes of them, and of that which is only knowne to him; let vs goe forward in the consideraton wh••ch we haue pro∣p••sed concernin•• al of them, and weigh the fruit which in al Ages they haue brought-forth two seueral wayes; first by example, then also by their labour and industrie.

3. As for matter of Example, it cannot be denyed, but that for the most part, al Euan••elical vertues had been hidden in darknes but for the light which Reli••ion hath giuen them;* 1.835 first practising them, and by their verie practise presenting them to the view of al men, as it were, in a publick Theatre to be beheld of al. So that their modestie, humilitie, pietie, & deuotion, hath been alwayes a leading direction for al kind of people to follow; and we may iustly conceaue, that this was the reason why they are tearmed by S. Iohn Chrysostome,* 1.836 the lights of the world. For by them the world hath learned, how God is to be serued, with what reuerence, with what feare he is to be adored in the Churches and in the Sacraments, with what diligence & attention we ought to pray vnto him, how patient we ought to be in aduersitie, how cha∣ritable towards our neighbour, finally there is no Christian vertue, wherof they haue not left manifold examples in the world.

4. Yea though al this were not, their verie forsaking of al things to embrace the Crosse of Christ, wheras manie of them were nobly and richly borne, and in the prime of their dayes, must needs be of great force to induce men to con∣temne the riches and honours of the world; and so we find it hath been; and though few haue the strength and courage of mind vtterly to abandon these things, yet by that which they see these men doe before their eyes, they learne to loue these earthlie things lesse, or at least wil vnderstand that they deserue not to be loued. What shal we say more? their verie aspect is a secret exhortation to vertue, & reprehension of vice; which manie dayly experience to be true, & S. Chrysostome doth plainly testifye, exhorting the people in two seueral Sermons, often to visit Religious houses for this verie reason,* 1.837 because they cannot but car••i•• some benefit home from them.

For there, saith he, al things are voyd of temptation, free from al disquiet & disturbance; they are most quiet hauens, and the dwellers of them are like so manie fires, shining from high places, and giuing light to them that come neere them; and hauing taken vp their rest in

the hauen, they inuite others to the same tranquillitie, and suffer not those, that haue their eyes vpon them, to runne hazard of ship-wrack, or to be in darknes, if they behold them. Goe therefore to these men, conuerse with them; goe, I say, cast yourselues at their holie feet, for it is farre more honourable to kisse their feet then the head of other men. For, I pray you, if some apprehend the feet of certain Images, only because they represent the King; shalt not thou be in safetie if thou embracest him that hath Christ within him? Their feet therefore are holie, though otherwise they seeme abiect and contemptible.

Thus speaketh S. Iohn Chrysostome.

5. Deseruedly therefore may we apply to Religious people, that which was spoken to the honour of the Apostles, and is common to them that leade an Apostolical life:* 1.838 You are the light of the world, you are the salt of the earth; the one belonging to example of life, of which we have spoken; the other belonging to their industrie, of which we are now to speake; which is farre greater also then example itself, to wit, not only to preserue the behauiour of men from corruption (as it were) by casting salt vpon them, but which is beyond the nature of salt,* 1.839 to restore them when they haue been corrupted; which Reli∣gious people performe, when they reclaime those that are gone astray, raise those that are fallen, instruct the ignorant, assist with their counsel, learning, and al manner of industrie, them that are in temptation and difficulties. We shal not need to proue these things by authoritie of the holie Fathers, or by that which others haue le••t recorded; for we see it dayly before our eyes, and find in our daylie practice, that it is so. It is apparent to euerie bodie, how much Religiours Orders doe further the saluation of man kind by hearing Cōfessions, by public•• Sermons, by priuate reprehension of vice, by taking away (as much as lyeth in them) the occasions of sinne, by appeasing dissention and discord, finally releeuing al sorts of people, instructing and teaching them how to behaue themselues against the Diuel, against their owne infirmities, against the allurements of the world; al which businesses Religious people haue in a manner so ingrossed, that few besides them, stirre in them; and euen those few are oftimes stirred-vp by their example; and by a holie emulation of them.

6. And though these things be in themselues great, yet because they are daylie, they are not esteemed; and people perhaps think but slightly of them, as the fashion is.* 1.840 The warre which we haue with the enemies of God's Church, and with Hereticks, is of more reckoning; and Religious men are they, that beare the greatest part of that burden also, opposing themselues as a coun∣terscarpe and bulwark against the furie of them, in their Disputations, and Sermons, and written Bookes; in priuate and publick meetings. Finally that which is most glorious and of greatest weight, is the good which they haue done, not in particular men, but in whole Prouinces and Kingdomes, bringing them vnder the yoak and obedience of the Faith of CHRIST.* 1.841 How often haue they spread the light of the Ghospel, where it was neuer seen before, and restored it where it hath been obscured? How manie times hath Faith and Religion gone to decay in manie places, and they haue for it vp againe▪ Certainly their zeale in this kind hath been so eminent, that who∣soever shal giue himself to reade Histories, and obserue the manner how th••

Faith of Christ hath been brought into euerie Countrey since the Apostles, & those Apostolical times, wil scarce finde a man named in the busines that hath not been Religious. It wil be too tedious to rehearse them al; yet some we wil touch vpon,* 1.842 for example sake.

7. First therefore we finde that S. Remigius, he that about the yeare Fiue hundred and thirtie conuerted al France from Idolatrie to the Faith of Christ, was from his childhood a Monk, and afterwards Archbishop of Rh••mes.

* 1.8438. About the same time, to wit, in the yeare Fiue hundred and fourtie, Martin a Monk reduced the Swedens from the A••ian heresie. It is a knowne thing,* 1.844 how England by S. Augustin's instruction (whom S Gregorie sent thither with foure other Monks) was conuerted to God togeather with King Ethelbert, in the yeare Six hundred and three.* 1.845 And in Six hundred twentie two, Lambert a Monk of Liege brought the countrey of Taxandria in the Lower Germanie to the Faith of Christ; and at the same time Kilian a Scottish Monk wrought the like in Franconia, and there dyed a Martyr. Wilfride also a Monk of the monasterie of H••rpue in England,* 1.846 and afterwards Bishop of York, about the yeare Six hundred foure-score and three, as he was sayling towards Rome, was by tempest cast vpon the coast of Holland and Frizland; and not to passe the winter without fruit, he began to preach the Ghospel, which til then had not been heard of in those countries. And returning home, and not permitted by wicked King Eg••rid to remaine in his charge, he went to the South Saxōs, that were yet Infidels, and shewed them the light of Faith; and withal con∣uerted the whole Iland of W••ght.

9 And that which Wilfride began in Frizland, Willebrord continued, a Monk of the monasterie of Rippon in England, and was afterward created Bishop of Maes••icht. At the same time Swithbert bred-vp in the famous Mo∣nasterie of Landis••erne, with eleuen others (in memorie of the number of the Apostles) went to the Saxons, and is recorded to haue instructed an innu∣merable companie of them in the Faith of Christ; and was afterwards made Bishop of Werda, and did not cease notwi••hstanding to take great paines.

10. Bonifacius also is renowned in this kinde, and to this day deseruedly worshipped as the Apostle of Germanie.* 1.847 He was borne in Scotland, and led a a holie life a long time in a Monasterie, to which his parents had offered him from the time he was fiue yeares old; and being sent by Pope Gregorie the Second into Germanie, he conuerted to the Faith of Christ Thuringia, F••••sia, and Hesse, about the yeare One thousand two hundred and sixteen; and that he might the better gouerne those whom he had instructed, he was ho∣noured with the Archbishoprick of Mentz, though he receaued yet more ho∣nour by the crowne of Martyrdome.

* 1.84811. Willehard and Ludger, out of the monasterie of S. Willebrord in France, went into Franconia a prouince of Germanie, about the yeare Eight hundred, and begat manie children there to Christ, and themselues endured a great deale of hardnes for his sake.

* 1.84912. Not long, to wit, some ten yeares after, Ausgarius with three companions out of the Monasterie of Corby in the Wall••ns Countrey, passed through diuers Provinces preaching the Ghospel, in Denmark, Sw••dland, Scotland, and Greeneland, with incredible fruit. And ••ut 〈◊〉〈◊〉

the same Monasterie came Stephen, who succeded Ausgarius in the haruest of Swedland, and passed afterwards into the province of Helinghen, and brought it wholy out of errour into the way of truth; and lastly slayne by some wicked people there, went to enjoy the crowne of Martyrdome.

13. To whome we may adde Albus Abbot of Floriac, a Monasterie which was built by S. Ma••••••s in the possessions of one Florus Count,* 1.850 as we find re∣corded; for he tooke much paynes in dilating the Christian Faith in that part of France which is called G••••cou••••; a man famous for his Eloquence, and San∣cti••ie, and the glorie of Martyrdome. He liued about the yeare Nine hundred and seauentie.

14. What shal we say of Adalber••us?* 1.851 who when he was Archbishop of of Prague, coming to Rome, liued a long time a Religious life in the Monasterie of Mount-Cassino, about the yeare Nine hundred and foure-score; and then to∣geather with his brother Gaudentius a Monk also of S. Alexus in Rome, went into Hungarie to preach the Faith of Christ; where he met with King Geisa, that had notice of his coming before from God; and being entertayned honourably by him, he conuerted al that fierce and barbarous people to the obedience of of our Sauiour; and from thence going higher into Sarmatia, preached the Ghospel to the Russians, Latuanians, Moscouites, Prussians, and chiefly to the Polacks, and their King Boleslaus. Finally in Prussia being by the wicked misbe∣leeuers bound to a stake, and stuck with seauen darts, while he stood gasping, he gaue God thanks, that he had at last vouchsafed him that fauour to dye for his sake, which had long desired.

15. Bruno also sonne to Lotarius Duke of Saxonie,* 1.852 after he had lead a Mona∣stical life in the Monasterie of S. Alexius in Rome, was sent by Iohn the Nine∣teenth to the Russians about the yeare One thousand twentie fiue, and reduced manie of that Countrey to the way of Saluation; and to the end he might not want his reward for his seruice in that cause, he was crowned with Martyr∣dome. And about the same time Boniface Disciple to S. Romualdus, trauelling into the same Countrey Russia, conuerted the King & the whole Kingdome, sauing the King's brother, by whom being barbarously slayne, he watered with his bloud the Vinyard which he had planted.

16. In the yeare One thousand and fiftie, Humbert,* 1.853 a Benedictin Monk, being sent Legate from the Pope to Constantinople, to conuince the Grecians of their Schismatical errours, appointing a day of meeting with N••••etas, confounded him in Disputation before the Emperour Constantin; and forced him to burne the Booke, which he had written.

17. Otho in like manner a Monk of the Monasterie of Waburg a cittie in Germanie,* 1.854 being, in the yeare One thousand one hundred twentie fiue, sent by Callistus the Second into Pomerania, conuerted Prince Warcislaus and his fol∣lowers; and trauelling al the coast of Denmark, & the cōfines of Poland, wrought great conuersions, and visited also manie Citties of Saxonie with great fruit.

18. Not vnlike to him was Vicelinu••,* 1.855 who not long after going out of France to the Wandals with foure Companions, took incredible paynes for thirtie yeares togeather in al that Countrey, instructing innumerable people in the Law of Christ, and founded manie famous Monasteries there.

19. And of Conuersions of the like nature wrought by Monks, we might

adde much more; but for breuitie sake, we wil descend to the Religious Orders, which are of later standing; for since they haue appeared in the Church of God, businesses of this nature haue for the most part passed through their hands.

20. The Dominicans haue had manie occasions of doing God great service in this kind; and particularly about the yeare One thousand two hundred fourtie seauen, we find that diuers of them were sent by Innocentius the Fourth to the Tartarians,* 1.856 the chief among them being Ascelinus, a holie man; though for that time there came no other good of it, but that which them∣selves reaped by the manie iniuries and incommodities which they suffered in that measure, that it is a wonder, that either their bodies, or their harts were able to endure it. Wherefore not manie yeares after, they went in greater number and with better successe to the conuersion of Nations; and trauelled manie countries, where the light of the Gospel had neuer been seen, with such abundant fruit that it was not possible, as they write, to number the soules conuerted by them; specially in the Countrey of Cuma; from which parts Benedict (who was Superior of the rest of the Bretheren) writing to their General, relateth that manie thousands not only of the common soit, but of the Nobilitie of the Countrey had receaued the Sacrament of Baptisme, which may suffise for a taste of the fruit which that Order hath and doth dayly bring-forth in the Church of God; there being whole Books extant ful of Relations concerning it.

21. Of the Franciscans, besides other times, in the yeare One thousand two hundred and seauentie, one Hieronymus Esculus was sent to Constantinople, to treate a reconciliation of the Greek Church; he that afterwards was chosen Pope, and called Nicolas the Fourth.* 1.857 And he had so good successe in the busines he went for, that he perswaded the Emperour and the Countrey to submit them∣selves; & (which was a ioyful sight) brought fourtie Peeres of the Countrey to kisse the Pope's foot,* 1.858 and to the Councel, which was then assembled at Lions.

22. The Religious of the same Order haue also more then once passed to the Tartarians, first in the yeare One thousand two hundred fourtie fiue, sent by Innocent the Fourth, at which time manie being conuerted to the Ghospel, not long after there went more of them into the Vinyard,* 1.859 and erected there manie Monasteries; and Christianitie did much prosper among them.

23. In the yeare One thousand three hundred fourtie one, two againe of the same Order were sent Legats from Benedict the Tenth, with others of their Brethren with them, who obtayning leaue of the Emperour of the Countrey to preach the Faith of Christ, built againe manie Churches and Monasteries, to the great enlargement of the Service of God, and conuersion of manie soules.

24. Moreouer no smal number of them passed into Armenia in the yeare One thousand three hundred thirtie two.* 1.860 The chiefe man among them was Gonsales Sa••rata, a man very learned, and one that hath much benefitted that Countrey both by his seruent preaching & by translating manie of our bookes into their language.* 1.861 And about the same time we finde that one Paschal•••• tra∣uelled in the couersion of the Medes, and one Gentilis among the Persians. The

former writeth in an epistle, which is yet extant, that the people of the Coun∣trey tempted him at first with diuers presents, and offered him manie wiues, which and manie other allurements he constantly refusing, they fel to iniuries, and reproches, they twice stoned him, and burnt his face, and the soales of his feete, with fire; and yet he was so farre from being danted therewith, that he neuer so much as altered his Habit for it,* 1.862 nor intermitted his preaching.

25. And of Gentilis there is this notable thing recorded, that liuing in Babylon, and finding himself dul in learning the Arabick language, he resolued to returne into Italie. But as he was vpon the way, there met him a yong man, that hauing sifted out the cause of his iourney, bad him goe back againe, be∣cause God would giue him the guift of that tongue; and from that houre he spake it as perfectly as if he had been borne in the Countrey.* 1.863

26. Bosna a cittie of Dalmatia was also in those dayes conuerted from Here∣sie by the meanes of Gerard General of that Order, as he had occasion by chance to trauel that way; and afterwards sending diuers others thither, he wonne also the countrey there abouts, it being infected with the same Heresie; and brought it within the fould of Christ.

27. Odoricus of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 much about the selfsame time, both to shunne the ho∣nour which euerie one was forward to giue him, and through the burning zeale of Soules, got leaue of his Superiour to goe preach to the Infidels; where ma••in•• his excursions into diuers countreys towards the East and the South, in seauenteen yeares, which he spent in that noble work, he is reported him∣self alone to haue baptized and instructed twentie thousand Soules.* 1.864

28. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on the yeare One thousand three hundred and seauentie,* 1.865 Wiliam 〈◊〉〈◊〉 being sent to Caraye to preach the Ghospel of Christ, carried three-score of his Friars with him. And in Hungarie the King hauing lately brought diuers ••ioyning Provinces to his obedience, sent eight Franciscan-friars amongst them, whos ••ithi•• the compasse of fiftie dayes, brought two hundred thousand to belieue in Christ. The King seing the happie successe, wrote earnestly to the General of their Order to send him two thousand of his Friars, assuring him they should not want employment. The letter which the General wrote back is yet extant,* 1.866 wherein he deuoutly and feruently inuiteth his Religious to so withful and glorious an enterprise. And among the rest we must not let passe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cap stranus, who about the yeare One thousand foure hundred and fiftie brought to the bosome of the Church in one excursion twelue thousand In∣fidels, and manie Schismatiks besides.* 1.867

29. We might heer speake of much more that hath been done to the ex∣cessiue benefit of the Church both by Other orders, and by this our least So∣cietie of IESVS, which in Italic and Spaine (where Catholick Religion doth remaine incorrupt and flourish) laboureth with that fruit which euerie one seeth and knoweth; and in France, Germanie, the Low-countries, Poland, and in al the Northern parts infected more or lesse with Heresie, employeth itself incessantly in strengthning Catholicks, instructing the ignorant, redu∣cing or conuincing Hereticks, by preaching, teaching schooles, priuate con∣uersation, and by al manner of holesome meanes and wayes. At which how much the Diuel is grieued, he lately shewed (as by certain Relation we haue heard) when being vrged by Exorcisines in a possessed person, among other

things he professed, that he hated no kind of people more then the Iesuits.

30. But not to be too long, we wil instance the matter we haue in hand, in two only of two seueral Families, by which it wil sufficiently appeare, how much the whole Orders may haue benefitted the Church of God, seing one man in an Order hath done so much good.* 1.868 S. Bernard is one; and the good which he hath wrought in the Church of God, cannot indeed be valued. For in that fearful Schisme, which was raised against Pope Innocent the Second, he bestirred himself so diligently that we may truly say, he was the cause and meanes at last of extinguishing it. For he alone brought al France to the Pope's obedience; the S••nod of Estamps, where al the Bishops of the Realme, the King & al his Peeres were purposely assembled to that end, putting al their voices in him. He recon∣ciled King Henrie of England also to the Pope, euen against the mind and en∣deau••ur of al the Bishops of the Countrey; and afterwards brought in Germa∣nie. Then he went to the Councel of ••i••a, and was not only present at al their meetings and deliberations in the weightiest affaires of Christendome, but did in a manner gouerne them, al referring themselues to him. Againe, when the Church ••f ••urdean•• was miserably torne by factious people, insomuch that is diu••rs place•• the lawful Bishops were thrust out of their Seas, he (stirred-vp by the Pope's Nantio,* 1.869 Bish••p of ••har••e.) quenched al that fire with his eloquence, authoritie, and miracles. After this, Ro•••• being oppressed with publick calami∣ties, he was called thither by the often and earnest letters of the Pope and Car∣dinal, and there confuted Roger King of ••••••ilie in open disputation; and by his counsel & wisdome so weakned the partie of the Antipope Peter Leo, that being forsaken of al, he made a miserable end. Peter Abaylard was an Heretick so proude of his learning and eloquence, that no man almost could stand against him. S. Bernard first in a priuate meeting, then publickly in the Councel of S••ns put him to shame. Soone after in the Councel of Rhem••s, he so palpably cōuinced ••ilbert Parr••t, a man that was also famous, that he himself publickly cōdemned his owne errour. He alone constrayned Henrie (an other Apostate) to flye▪ one that had infected the Dioces of ••olause with his wickednes, and was ••il labou∣ring to infect it more and more; but at last he was intercepted and del••uered-vp in chaines to the Bishop. What shall say of his other iourneys to M••••an, to G••••u••, to the King of France, al which he vndertook for affaires of great consequence to the Church, and al of them with prosperous successe? And in these iournyes who can number the causes which were brought vnto him, or the concourse of people, to and fro, to his lodging, pressing-in one vpon another: Neither can it be imagined, with what benefit he preached to the people; what an infinit cō∣panie he reclaimed from their wicked life; how manie were reconciled by his meanes; how manie drawne out of the iawes of the Diuel by the firie flames of Diuine loue, which he breathed wheresoeuer he came. But we may giue a guesse at it, by that which is recorded of him, that besides those that forsaking the vanities of the world, betooke themselues to other Religious Orders, he neuer returned home to Cla••••-vaulx, but attended with a great troup of Nouices, whom•• he had driuen by his owne perswasions into the nets of our Sauiour, and most c••mmonly they were men eminent either for Diuinitie, or Huma∣nitie, or for their birth; among whome we find Henrie brother to the King of France, and one Herucus of the bloud Royal. And so much of S. Bernard.

31. The other, whom I purpose to insist vpon, is S. Vincent of the Order

of S. Dominick;* 1.870 whose labours haue extended so farre, that it is a wonder that anie one man could goe so much ground as he hath trauelled, prea∣ching the Ghospel of Christ. For first in Spaine he went ouer al the King∣domes of Valentia, Catalaunia, Aragon, Na••arre; and setting aside Galicia and Portugal, where for certain reasons he came not, he passed through al the rest of the Prouinces, and euerie towne of them, and almost euerie village. Then co∣ming into the kingdome of Ouiedo, Daulphinie, France, Burgundie, Normandie, Pre∣uence, A••uergne, Gasconie, Britanie, Flanders, and al Sauoy, he went-vp into Italie, & came downe againe by Lombardie, Piedmon••, & Genua, & al that coast, and sayled to the Ilands of the Mediterranean Sea; and being inuited into England by King Henrie his letters, and an expresse messenger and a ship to waite vpon him, he vi∣sited al that Iland, and from thence went into Scotland, and Ireland, & rested not only in the head-citties, but passed, as I sayd before, to euerie towne & litle vil∣lage, following the exāple of Christ our Sauiour. Who therefore but God alo••e can number the soules, which he reclaimed from their vicious courses, & from the gates of hel; how manie euil customes he rooted out of whole citties and countries; what light and knowledge of heauenlie things he left behind him?

32. We find recorded that he conuerted aboue fiue and twentie thousand lewes, which Sect, as in those dayes it raigned much▪ he laboured particularly with great zeale to extirpate; of the Saracens he cōuerted eight thousand; & of Christians debauched, that turned ouer a new leafe, aboue a hundred thousand. But it is more easie to reckon-vp the Countreys and Prouinces, then the soules which he brought into the way of Saluatiō. For they write of him, that where∣soeuer he set his foot, there followed presently a general repentace of their former offences, a general reformation of manners; dicing, and blaspheming▪ and periurie, and other crimes, yea idle sports and toyes, were so layd aside, that people did think no more of anie such thing; and their cont••ition, deuotion, and modestie was so great, not only while he was present, but for some time after, that it did seeme a new Primitiue Church.

33. Wherefore if Religion had had only these two subiects, that had laboured 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the reformation of the world, and deserued wel of the Church, were it not a sufficient commendation and glorie vnto it But it hath had verie manie, as S. Francis himself, of whom we reade wonderful things in this kind, S. Antonie of Padua, S. Bernardine of Siena, both of them not much, or nothing at al infe∣riour to S. Vincent; and others whom it were long to rehearse.

34. And though these things doe turne much to the glorie and renowne of Religion, yet nothing is more worthie of admiration and prayse, then the con∣uersion of the New-found World, which is wholy to be attributed to Reli∣gious people. They were the first that carried the Ghospel into those Coun∣treys, they diuulged the Name of Christ there where it wa•• vnknowne and neuer heard-of before, and cease not to this verie day to spread it stil further and further.* 1.871 The first that vndertooke this charge, were the Franciscan-Friars, who also helped not a little to the finding-out of th••se C••un∣treys, the names wherof were not so much as knowne before. For when Christopher Columbus first treated with King Ferdinand of Spaine about that Voyage, and had no great audience, in regard that the thing seemed a noueltie, and vncertaine, it is sayd that two Franciscan-Friars

helped the busines much, both animating the King and exhorting him not to omit the occasion, but to trye what would come of it. Columbus therefore with certain ships which were granted him, finding out the Kingdome of Mexico, and returning into Spayne to bring the ioyful tidings of it, presently some Priests of that Order shipped themselues for those parts about the yeare One thou∣sand foure hundred ninetie three.

34. About the same time, to wit, in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred, Vasques Gama by order of Emmanuel King of Portugal finding a way into the West-Indies, eight of the same Order of S. Francis eminent for learning and sanctitie, were sent to preach the Ghospel. And by little and little te Order multiplying in those Countreys, they built manie houses in a short time, and were diuided into thirteen Prouinces (as they tearme them) greatly aduancing the Christian cause euen to this day.

35. The Dominicans not long after, to wit, in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred and fiue,* 1.872 joyned themselves in the like busines, and haue done manie famous things in those farre Countryes; and after them the Augustin-Friars and l••sly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Societie of IESVS, at the request of ••ois•• King of Por∣tugal w•••• brought into the East-Indies by S. Francis X 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the yeare One thousand fiue hundred fourtie one,* 1.873 and few yeares after into the West-Indies by order of Philip King of Spayne; and hath so taken it to hart, that from that time it hath neuer ceased not only to instruct those that were Christians be∣fore, but to preach the Ghospel farre and neere, and spread it in places where it was not heard of; as in Iaponie, where though the Countrie be so large, that it is said to containe about three-score Kingdomes, yet al the Religion and Faith that is in it, hath been wholy and solely planted and watered by the So∣cietie; and God hath giuen such encrease that they reckon now therin about two hundred thousand Christians. And lastly also our Societie hath made a hole into China, a Kingdome so large, and so rich, that it is almost incredible; which it seemes the Diuel had, as it were of purpose, kept hitherto shut; but notwithstanding the penaltie of death, to which al strangers are liable by their lawes, if they come within their bounds, they got-in fearing nothing, and re∣maine there to this day, with such hopeful beginnings, that if it succeeds ac∣cordingly, vndoubtedly the fruit wil be incomparable.

36. Now let us consider a litle, what honour it is in the sight of God, and his Angels for these Religious men, that they only are called to so great a work in al that part of the world. For first the preaching of the Ghospel and promulgating the Faith of Christ, where it was neuer before, is a great and Ap••st••lical work in itself. For our Sauiour chose his Apostles, and said vnto them: Going vnto the Whole World, preach the Ghospel to euerie creature, baptizing them, and teaching them to keepe al that I haue commanded you. As, I say, he gaue the c••nversion of this our World in charge to those his Disciples, so he hath giuen the char••c of this other World to Religious people. If we compare the greatnes and extent of that World with this, they say there is not much difference; but if we looke into their fashions and dispositions, we shal find them a great deale more barbarous and blind, worshipping the Sunne and Moone, Serpents, and Stones, and the very Oxen in some places, as in the kingdome of Mexico, they make their festiual dayes most feareful by Sacrifices of men; manie of them

feed most greedily vpon man's flesh; a great part of them know not what it is to goe cloathed, but are alwayes naked, contrarie to nature itself. Whereby we may see, that the verie light of nature is so obscured and dulled in them, that they are in a manner beasts, vnder the shape of men. In so great darknes and ignorance, it can not be but that they should be extremely giuen to al manner of vice, and most enormous crimes; and no man can iustly wonder, if, as we read of them, they make no account at al of things that are hideous to be named. Whereby we may conceaue, what paynes, what labour, and toyle was needful to bring such ignorance & barbarousnes to the knowledge and feare of God, and to tame them so, as to sloope to the yoak of Christ; and casting of their brutish behauiour, to embrace Christian humilitie, tem∣perance, and chastitie. For the glorie thereof (next to the grace of God) fa••leth al vpon Religious people, by whome those Sauages haue been instruc∣ted and taught, & bred-vp to the ciui••itie & deuotion, which now they haue.

36. To the labours and paynes,* 1.874 which the busines itself requires, we may adde the manie difficulties, and incommodities, and troubles without number both of bodie and mind, which are incident and annexed vnto it; as the long and difficult voyage by sea; the disposition of the Climat and Coun∣try f••r in some places it is extreme cold, as in Iaponie; in other places extreme hot, as at Ormuz, where they write that the people in the sommer-time lye vp to the neck in water to coole themselues; the want of victuals, the coun∣tryes being barren and vncultiuate; and that which is to be had, is not for our diet, and manner of feeding; oftimes they suffer ship-wrack vpon the rocks and shelues; and▪ which is most glorious, they are often in danger to be slaine by the Sauages and enemies of Christian Faith; which, if it happen, they are vndoubted Martyrs, as killed for the Faith of Christ. And I be••ieue, that di∣uers Religious men of seueral Orders haue been martyred in those parts; but that which I find recorded, is of the Franciscans, that thirtie of them in se∣ueral places haue suffered for Christ seueral kinds of death; and of our Socie∣tie in these few yeares, there haue been about threescore and ten crowned with Martyrdome, and some of them very lately.

37. How acceptable therefore may we iustly think our labours are to Christ our Sauiour, which being so much benefit to ourselues, are so benefi∣cia•• withal to others, and so much for the glorie of God? God shewed it once to one Alonso Ro••as a Franciscan-Fryar, who hauing spent diuers yeares in this great work, and returning into Spayne, to recollect himself, and prepare himself the better to dye, as often as he set himself to meditate vpon anie good thing, he conceaued he saw our Sauiour Crucifyed before him, in a kind of complayning and angrie manner, asking him, why he had left him so vpon the Crosse, and betaken himself to his ease. Which Vision hapning to him often, he was so pricked with it, that he resolued to goe into the Indies againe to his former labours, & bestowed himself there manie yeares very profitably. Not vnlike to this was the manner, in which God inuited our S. Xauerius to the same work long before he vndertooke it. For as he was wont to relate of himself, oftimes in his sleep he carried a Black-a-Moore vpon his shoul∣ders; and the burthen seemed so heauie▪ that it awaked him out of his sleep, much wearied with the verie weight of the man. And both came afterwards to

passe; ••or by his labour and industrie he brought those people to Christ, as it were vpon his shoulders; and tooke so much paynes in that haruest, that it is wonderful how the forces of his bodie could endure them. And this may suf∣fise for a taste of that fruit, which the feruent endeauours of Religious men haue brought-forth in the Christian world.

Reasons, why a Religious course of life is most proper to bring-forth these kinds of fruit. CHAP. XXXI.

IT is not only true, that Religious Orders haue brought forth such abundance of fruit, as I haue sayd; but also that no state of life, no companie of men, is so proper and wel prouided for it, as they are. Wherof there might be manie reasons giuen, but we wil reduce them to three. The first may be drawne from the nature and disposition of God, and the fashion which he doth hold with vs. For if we consider attentiuely the wayes, which from the beginning of his Church he hath vsed to bring men to Saluation, we shal find, that he hath alwayes chosen those instruments and helps for so great a busines, which were most destitute of humane meanes towards the perfor∣mance of it.

* 1.8752. This is that which S. Paul writing of the Primitiue Church obserued and taught, that there were not manie powerful, or noble, or wise man accor∣ding to the flesh, but God chose the weake of the world to confound the strong; and the ignoble, and contemptible, and the things which are not, to destroy those which are; and giueth this solid reason of it, that al flesh may not glorie, that is, that the glorie of so great a work should not be giuen to men, and humane forces, and so the Crosse of Christ be euacuated, as he speaketh. To which effect S. Ambrose also speaking very wel,* 1.876 biddeth vs marke the heauenlie proiect.

He hath chosen, sayth he, to send not the wise, or the rich, or the noble, but fisher-men and Publicans; to the end that he might not be thought to haue inuited the world by ostentation of power, or bought it out with abundance of wealth, or drawne anie man to his fauour by the shew of nobilitie and greatnes, that the force of truth, and not grace in disputing, might preuaile.

And we must not think that God is changed, or that the wisdom of God taketh an other course now for the conuersion of soules, then anciently he did. For neither can there be anie change in God, and the motiues stil remaine, least that, which is altogeather Diuine, be attri∣buted to humane strength; to which men are prone enough in their owne disposition; because their carnal eyes behold only that which outwardly is done by man, and cannot reach to see the force of the inward grace, from

which al these effects proceede. The difference only is this, that anciently God for the most part chose those, which were bred and borne in pouertie & want; and now he maketh vse of those who haue voluntarily made them∣selues poore of their owne accord. And the reason is, because if al they, that are nobly and richly borne, were excluded from this perfection, they should be depriued of so great a good without anie fault of theirs: and on the other side, if they should be admitted vnto it with their worldlie riches, God should goe from his rule, as I haue sayd; and therefore he hath di∣uinely tempered it so, that they that are nobly descended, and wealthie, and powerful, might haue part of this glorie, yet so as first they forsake their worldlie wealth and honour, and bring themselues of their owne good wil to an humble and poore estate. And we may obserue further, that so long as the Church had no earthlie possessions, and the work-men therof were poore and destitute of worldlie helps, and lead their life, as the Apostles did, in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakednesse, God vsed in a manner no other instruments in it but them:* 1.877 But when afterwards, as S. Hierome writeth, it grew greater in power and riches, and lesse in vertue (which Age he so long agoe tearmeth the dregs of times) then,* 1.878 and euer since, the Diuine goodnes hath called Religious poore men to this work, which cannot be effected but by them that are poore. This was figured in that great Golias the Giant, representing the Diuel, that stood vpbraiding God and his forces; for God chose not an other Giant, nor yet a man growne to pul him downe,* 1.879 but a beardles and naked boy: And when the walles of Hierico,* 1.880 that is, the fortifications which Satan maketh, were throwne downe to the ground, not by Cannon-shot, or militarie en∣gines, but with the blast of a trumpet, which God knowes how weake it is. And the same was foreshewed in that new manner of going into the field, without anie weapon, but only a lamp put into an earthen pitcher, to wit, sanctitie couered with an outward humble manner of life; which notwithstanding cannot but shew itself, and shewing itself, confound al the hoast of Satan and al his forces. This is the reason which hath moued God to hold this course.

3. The second reason reflecteth vpon the men that are to be holpen.* 1.881 For wheras example of life is much more forcible to perswade, then words alone, if the Auditorie heare a discourse of shunning honour, of embra∣cing pouertie, of voluntarie abasing and humbling ones-self, and of al that mortification which the Ghospel teacheth; and yet the man himself that speaketh it, abound in riches, and honour, and worldlie glorie, his words wil haue litle force; because though we may retaine these things, and our hart and affection not be vpon them, yet it seldome is so; and when it hapneth to be so, yet people cannot know it, because they cannot diue into the secrets of our hart. And heer we speake not of what may be, but what is more forcible to perswade and winne peoples harts. For who can make anie doubt, but that people wil easier beleeue, that a man sets al humane things at naught, if they see him indeed contemne them, then if outwardly they see no such thing by him, though inwardly in his mind he be so disposed?

* 1.8824. Besides that, this kind of life carrieth a great authoritie in the world. For wheras the goods and pleasures therof, like smooth-toungued dames leade the greater part of the world by the nose, they beholding others so easily to resist them, and to treade those vices vnder foot, to which their consciences tel them that themselues and others are in bondage, they cannot but haue a great conceit of them, and secretly in their harts admire them, and extol them among their neighbours, as men that haue done strange things; and not with∣out great reason. For it is a great point to be maister in this kind of al earthlie things, to subdue ourselues, and the crooked inclinations which are in vs; and they that contemne the world with al the allurements therof, must needs be of a noble and heroical spirit, and endued with rare and eminent vertue. So that breeding so much admiration in the minds of men, nothing can be more for∣cible also to moue and perswade; and they that haue not this in them, want a special meanes, and as it were a proper instrument both to sow and reape this fruit of soules.

* 1.8835. Let vs heare what S. Iohn Chrysostome sayth to this purpose; for he doth verily think this to be the cause, why in the Apostles time there was so much good done, and the Age wherin himself liued, was become so barren.

If twelue men, sayth he, were able to conuert the whole world, think with your∣selues▪ how great our wickednes is, who cannot reforme our owne subiects, being so manie of vs, that we might suffise for leuen for ten thousand worlds. You wil say, the Apostles wrought miracles. But it was not their miracles, which made them so much admired. For manie sinners did cast out Diuels, and wrought no such effects, but were punished. What was it then which made them so great? The contempt of money, the despising of honour, the abstai∣ning from al businesses of this life; if they had not had these things, though they had raised the dead, they would not only not haue holpen anie bodie, but been esteemed seducers. Thus farre S. Iohn Chrysostome, most properly to the commendation of a Religious state; the profession wherof is pouertie, and a perfect renunciation of al things.

* 1.8846. The third reason may be drawne from the workmen themselues, that labour in this haruest of Soules. For it cannot be doubted, but that they are much better prouided for this work, then others; by reason they haue nothing at al in the world. For first they are free, and lightsome, and readie to goe and runne, whither soeuer the spirit of our Lord shal moue them, because their minds are not entangled in thoughts of children, or possessions, or household-affaires, which thoughts bring two great inconueniences vpon them; for they take vp time, which might be better spent in more profitable things; and our mind (wil we, nil we) doth cleaue too much to them, while we handle them, which is both vnworthie, & vnbeseeming a labourer in the Ghospel & greatly inconuenient.

* 1.8857. This was anciently figured in that Militarie Law••, which God made; that they who had built a new house, or planted a new vinyard, or newly wedded a wife, or were otherwise feareful, should not goe with the Camp: vpon which Caueat we find often, and particularly in the warre, of which Gedeon was the leader, that two and twentie thousand souldiers were sent back. And of the ten thousand that remained God casheered

al that layd themselues downe vpon their breast to drink at the riuer, and in the muster they were left but three hundred, that had drunk standing; and yet as few as they were, they got a notable victorie. What is this but that which we haue hitherto said, that they that plant vinyards, that is, who giue themselues to worldlie businesses, or follow the pleasures of marriage, and other cōtentments of the bodie, or are possessed with anie other worldlie feare, or loue, and abase themselues to these inferiour things, are vnfit to follow this heauenlie warfare? The chosen band of three hundred men, a handful in itself, but ful of manlie courage, euidently signifie Religious people, that are voyd of al earthlie cares, and al humane feare, which is wont to attend vpon them; and they are but few, if we compare them with the multitude of other people. S. Ambrose therefore sayth wel:* 1.886 The precepts of the Ghospel shew plainly, what a one he ought to be, that preacheth the kingdome of God, that without rod, without scrip, without shoes, without bread, without money, that is, requi∣ring no assistance of worldlie help, secure in faith, he makes account, that the lesse he lookes after these things,* 1.887 the more he may haue.

8. We may adde moreouer, that wheras men for the most part sinne not out of ignorance (for the Law of God is now sufficiently diuulged, and people know sufficiently what they are to doe) wheras therefore, I say, they offend not, because they know not wherin they offend, but because their wil is in∣firme and weake, they want not so much instruction, as feruour; and their wil is more to be stirred vp, then their vnderstanding informed. Now to sti••re-vp others, nothing is so powerful and so necessarie, as that he, that goeth about it, be himself moued and inflamed; which S. Gregorie declareth excellently wel, as al other things, in a certain place of his Morals:

The mind (saith he) occu∣pied with desires of outward things, cannot be warme in the loue of God; and therefore the warmth, which comes out of a cold hart, cannot inflame the au∣ditorie with heauenlie desires, for that which hath not fire in it, cannot kindle another thing.

Which saying of S. Gregorie is grounded vpon good reason;* 1.888 for if, according to Philosophie, the effect must be like the cause from which it proceedeth, the works of louing God, flying from sinne, going against our inclination, and the like heauenlie and diuine effects, can neuer be wrou••ht by force of human instruction, or eloquence, but there must be a Diuine and heauenlie vertue added; which vertue as it is seldome to be seen in the world, so it is ordinarie in Religion, and springeth largely and plentifully out of the fountains therof, where euerie one filling himself, deliuereth out of the abun∣dance of his hart, as out of a plentiful store-house, new and old, for the benefit of his neighbour.

9. There be yet two other things in Religious people,* 1.889 that greatly conduce to the bringing-forth of abundant fruit, and beating downe of the aduerse partie. First, the vnion of so manie togeather, and so great vnion as there can∣nobe a greater; for it is euident, that there can be no great matter atchieued but by the help of manie. And the reason is that, which we haue discoursed-of at large els where, that no one man can haue al things in him; & consequently he that shal go about to assist his neighbour himself alone, must needs find himself short in this▪* 1.890 as in manie other things. Contrariwise, Religious people (as S. ••asi•• expresseth it) are as souldiers, that fight manie of them close togea∣ther

vnder their targets, that it is impossible to break through them or amongst thē: so Religious people being so vnited togeather as they are, they are a fence, as he speaketh, & defence one to another, and easily ward the blowes which the enemie giueth, and put others also in safetie, causing them to flye, and yeald the field, and this they doe laying their wits, and their forces and their labours to∣geather, and doe it the more effectually, the more perfectly this vnion and con∣cord of wils and iudgements is obserued in euerie particular Religious Order.

* 1.89110. The second is the Vow and obseruance of Chastitie, which God doth so highly esteeme, that he hath vsed it in diuers occasions to ouercome, and beate downe the Diuel; a figure wherof we haue in Holofernes & his armie, which God put to route by no other forces then those of chast Iudith, as Ioachim the high Priest obserued, and published in the publick thanks, which he gaue after so great a victorie, speaking thus in commendation of her: Because thou didst loue cha∣stitie, and hast not knowne anie other man since thy husband, therefore the hand of our Lord hath strengthned thee, and thou shalt be blessed for euer. And certainly if it were so great a wonder to find one Iudith among such a multitude of people as there were, and this one woman brought so great a happines to al that nation; how glorious is it for the Catholick Church to behold so manie that liue pure and chast in it? and what benefit may we expect therof, but an excessiue strength, and force to the vtter ouerthrowing of the Infernal Holofernes, that is the Diuel, and of al his Satanical hoast?

11. Which when we behold, we may iustly admire the wonderful proui∣dence of God, in continually releeuing his Church with new supplyes. For we may distinguish, as it were, three Ages in it: The first of blessed Martyrs, that haue made the field of the Church more fruitful by watering it with their bloud.* 1.892 The second Age was of holie Doctours, who in the Booke of Iob (as S. Gregorie interpreteth) were designed by the Hyades. For as the Hyades begin to appeare when winter is gone, and bring raine with them; so the Doctours be∣gan to raine showers of knowledge and learning vpon the earth, when the Winter of persecution being gone, and the night of Infidelitie lessened, the Spring began to come-in & quiet times. The third Age was of Religious men, sent after the two former in farre greater number, to assist in the saluation of mankind. And as in those first beginnings, when the Faith of Christ, being but yet as it were in the cradle, was sorely cōbated with manie enemies, it was fit there should be some to defend it with the losse of their owne life; and as the number of the Faithful encreasing, the learning of Doctours was necessarie for their instruction, and for the suppressing of Heresies, that necessarily sprung vp; so in this third state of the world, wherin the continuance of peace and secu∣ritie bred loue of earthlie things, and brought people as it were into darknes by forgetfulnes of heauenlie things, it was a special act of the wisdome of God, to introduce such a kind of forme of liuing euerie where in the world, as should both curbe vice by example of voluntarie pouertie and humilitie, and with learning sight also against the Heresies, that are stil growing vp.

12. At which, in my opinion, was euidently declared to S. Francis in an ad∣mirable Vision, which he had, and by him to al others, that haue forsaken the world as he did. For S. Bonauenture relateth of him, that on a time, when he had giuen his cloathes from his back to a poore man that asked him an almes

for the loue of God,* 1.893 the night following as he was at rest, it seemed vnto him, that he was brought into a great pallace, where there was a faire Hal ful of al kindes of weapons, and al the weapons were marked with the Crosse of Christ. He asked whose al that armour was; and it was answered him, that it al belonged to him, and his souldiers. Awaking out of his sleepe, and not ac∣quainted as yet with spiritual things, he imagined that the Vision aboaded him some great excellencie in Chiualr•• and great honour; wherefore he pre∣sently went to a Count in Apulia, by whose meanes he thought he might be aduanced to some fortune in that kind. In his iourney our Lord appeared againe vnto him as he was asleepe, and said: Francis, who can be more bene∣ficial vnto thee, the Maister or the seruant? the rich or the poore? Francis an∣swered that which was the truth. Wherefore then (sayth our Sauiour) dost thou leaue the Maister for the seruant? and God that is rich, for man that is poore? And S. Francis replyed: What then wilt thou haue me doe? Returne (saith he) into thy countrie; for that which thou hast seen, doth not aboade anie temporal thing; neither is it to be fulfilled by any humane, but by diuine help. Out of which Vision we may learne that his Order, and al other Reli∣gious Orders, which in like manner make warre against the Diuel for the help of Soules, are al of them as so manie magazins and armouries richly stored, and as so manie Towers of Dauid built with forts,* 1.894 from which, as it is in the Can∣••••cles, a thousand shields doe hang, and al the armour of the strong.

How manie Religious men haue been eminent in learning and eloquence CHAP. XXXII.

BESIDES these spiritual ornaments, which are supernatu∣ral, and without al question the chiefest of al, and most to be esteemed, there be others within the compasse of nature, which adde both grace and abilitie for the busines of which we are speaking; wherof the principal are Learning and Elo∣quence. For as there be two things proper to man, wherin he surpasseth the nature of beasts,* 1.895 to wit, Reason and Speach: So whosoeuer doth bring these two to greatest perfection in himself, he is to be accounted most eminent among men, and more eminent then if he excel others in wealth and riches; and men among themselues are wont most of al to admire these things in others, and to haue a great conceit of those persons, in whome they behold them. Wherefore though the benefits of Grace and Spirit be, as I may say, the proper coppy-hold of Religious men, in which they are maisters; yet the infinit goodnesse of God hath been also pleased to heape vpon them these others in great abundance; either because a Religious State should not want anie thing that might be a true and solid grace vnto it, or because Learning and Eloquēce applied to spiritual things, make an excellent

temper, both for the benefitting of our owne soules, and for the help of our Neighbours, which most of these Institutes do attend vnto.

* 1.8962. And to begin with Learning, it hath doubtles so flourished at al times in Religion, that we may truly say, that Religious men haue made Learning m••re learned, and brought it to a more easie way of learning, and deriuing it∣self to posteritie. For in their life-time they gaue light vnto it by teaching ar∣guing, explaining; and left after their death so manie learned writings behind t••em, that al Sciences, which they thought worthie themselues to take paines in, are now by their endeauours farre more plaine and perspicuous to con∣ceaue. We wil therefore briefly runne-ouer al the Ages of Religion from the beginning, that we may take a view of the infinit multitude of learned men, that haue been famous in al times. And it wil be the more strange to find so m••nie of them, if we cōsider that the ancient Monks did of purpose withdraw themselues from matters of learning, to giue themselues wholy to contem∣plation of heauenlie things, as S. Gregorie relateth of S. Benedict,* 1.897 who began to studie the Liberal Sciences in Rome, but left them of purpose, that he might be, as S. Gregorie speaketh, learnedly ignorant, and wisely vnlearned. And yet there neuer wanted learned men euen in these times; for then there was a Strapion, Lucian, Pamp••ilus, the six Doctours of the Church, three Greek Doctours, and three Latin, of whome I spake before, and manie more, whom I spare to men∣tion, that we may come downe nee••er our liues.

3. To begin therefore with the Order of S. Benedict, which is the ancien∣test Order of the Latin Church, it is now one thousand and threescore and ••en yeares since it first began. In the eleuen hundred yeares therefore which haue been since the beginning of that Order, it is a thing almost incredible, how manie eminent learned men it hath produced. For in the first Age, that is, til the yeare Six hundred after Christ, we find Cassiodorus,* 1.898 whome I mentioned before, and while he liued, Dionysius surnamed the Litle,* 1.899 the learnedst man absolutely of his Age, both in Diuinitie and Humanitie, as the writin••s, which he hath left, doe shew. About the same time liued also S. Gregorie the Great,* 1.900 Gregorie of Tours; and Leander of Seuil,* 1.901 men that are famous to this day.

* 1.9024. In the second Age, from six to seauen hundred, Caesarius (of whome also I haue spoken before) was famous in France, Eutropius in Spaine, Iohn Bishop of Gerunda in Portugal, Abbot Adaman in Scotland, Theodore in England,* 1.903 who being a Monk at Rome, was sent to Canterburie by Pope Vitalian, and was the seauenth Archbishop of that Sea, in whose commendation Vencrable Lede speaketh often.

* 1.9045. In the third Age, which is to the yeare Eight hundred, liued Vencrab••e B••de, a man sufficiently knowne by his writings; and Boniface Apostle of Germanie,* 1.905 renowned b••th for Sanctitie and Learning. After them came Ae••••dus Abbot, a Grecian borne, who was a great Philosopher, a Poet, and a rare Phy∣sitian, and ha••h left manie things wri••ten in Verse of matters of Physick. And Alcu••••us maister to Charles the G••e••••,* 1.906 and so highly in fauour, that he was w••nt to cal him his Delight; to his wisedome Charles committed the ordering of the Vniuersitie of Paris, the forme wherof he brought from Rome. He hath writ∣ten manie things both of his owne inuention, and vpon the holie Sepiptures. Paulus Diaconus was in esteeme about the same time, he that made the Hym••e

of S. Iohn Baptist, and wrote m••nie other things, wherof part is yet extant.

5. In the fourth Age, til the yeare Nine hundred,* 1.907 Haymo a Monk of Fulda, schollar to Alcumus, and afterwards Bishop, is deseruedly to be ranked among the learnedst of his time; he hath written vpon al the Scripture & manie things of his owne. Rabanus Abbot also of Fulda,* 1.908 and Archbishop of M••nts, is not in∣feriour to him; his writings alone are able almost to fil a Librarie. For when he was but a child when his parents offered him to the Monasterie of Fulda, he ••ad profited so farre in Poetrie, Philosophie, & in the Scriptures, that he had not his like in al Germanie, and perhaps not in the world. Angelomus Luxoniensis, knowne by his writings, and Strabu•• of Fulda,* 1.909 who is sayd to be the Authour of the Glossa Ordinaria compiled out of holie Fathers, were next vnto him in time and learning.

6. In the fift Age, from the yeare Nine hundred to One thousand, Odo Abbot of Clun•• is cōmended for his knowledge in Diuine & human learning.* 1.910 Heriger Abbot of Lob hath the name of a learned man not only in France, but in Italie and Germanie. Ratheriu•• also a M••nk of Lob, Bishop of Verona, a man rare for simplicitie ioyned with deepe learning; & manie others; but among them none is more famous then Rap••e a Monk of Fulda▪* 1.911 of whome the whole Church of God had so great an opinion, that thinking none comparable to him for Philo∣sophie or Diuinitie, al the ••ard Questions were sent him from al parts of the world.

7. The sixt Age was yet much more fruitful of such wits; and among them, besides manie others, whose names are extant, we may reckon Marianus Scotus,* 1.912 who liued shut-vp in a Celle at Fulda eleuen yeares togeather, and fifteen yeares at M••n••z, in which time of his retiremēt he wrote his Chronicle from the be∣ginning of the world to his dayes, and was much respected by al for his lear∣ning an•• much more for his sanctitie.

8. About the same time Lanfranck was held to be the learnedst of his Age in Logick and Philosophie,* 1.913 and the Light and Maister of Diuines. It is reported of him, that going from Pama (where he was borne, and had read with great ap∣plause) into France, he fel into the hands of theeues, that robbed him, and car∣ried him away; which he took so impatiently at first, that reflecting vpon it af∣terwards, he much condemned himself for it; because hauing spent so much time in the studie of holie Scriptures, he had not learned to prayse God in ad∣uersi••ie; and presently he made a Vow, that if he escaped their hands, he would betake himself to the seruice of God. Being set free he came to the Monasterie of B••••k, & there liued for a while vnknowne, as if he had been an Idiot without anie learning at al, til some Italian marchants coming thither, discouered what he was. Then he was put to reade in his owne Monasterie, and afterwards was promoted to the Archbishoprick of Canterburie by the Pope's Holines. Anseim•• was his schollar and successour in his Chaire,* 1.914 first at Beek, then in the Archbishoprick of Canterburie, and resembled him in al things. The books, which are yet extant, of his writing, shew sufficiently his learning, so that we shal not neede to say anie mo••e of ••im.

9. Next vnto these, we may reckon the two Cardinals that liued at the same time; to wit, Humbert a Monk of Toul,* 1.915 whom Leo the Ninth made Car∣dinal

for the rare learning and vertue which was in him, and sent him to Con∣stantinople to suppresse the audaciousnes of an other Leo Bishop of the Bulga∣rians; and Petrus Damianus,* 1.916 whose learning and eloquence is to this day testifyed by his writings; his sanctitie appeareth in that hauing been a long time Cardi∣nal, and Bishop of Hostia, wearie at last of that kind of life, he withdrew him∣self (as S. Gregorie Nazianzen had done before him) to his former Monastical course, and yealded reasons therof in writing.

* 1.91710. Finally, to let passe others, Hermannus Contractus was a great man in those dayes; and his learning was the more memorable, because he had it by miracle. This we find written of him. He was descended of a noble Count of Swedland, and was crooked and lame from his infancie, which gaue him the surname of Contractus. Entring to be a Monk, he besought our Blessed Ladie very earnestly, that she would be pleased to cure him of his infirmitie. She appearing vnto him in broad day-light, bad him choose, whether he would be freed of his lamenes, and remaine vnlearned as he was, or continue with his infirmitie, and be eminent in al manner of lear∣ning. Hermannus choosing this latter, as he ought, he euer after profited wonderfully in al kind of knowledge; and it is thought, that he had not his like in manie Ages; and particularly he spake Latin, Greek, and He∣brew, as his natural language.

* 1.91811. In the seauenth Age, til the yeare One thousand two hundred, we find ma∣nie very learned men in al kind of Sciences. Peter Abbot of Cluni is reckoned a∣mongst the chiefest of them, whose books are yet extant, and in particular his Book of Wonders and Reuelations, that hapned in his time.

* 1.91912. Sigebert Monk of Gembl••ux at the same time wrote his Chronicle and other Histories. Gratian Monk of Bologne compiled the famous Work called the Decrees, out of the Sentences of the holie Fathers, and Determinations of Popes; which Work was afterwards allowed-of by Pope Eugenius the Third. But the famousest of al were Hugo of Saint Victor in Paris▪* 1.920 and Rupertus Abbot of Tuy. The manie Volumes which this latter hath left written, doe testifie the eminencie of his learning, and the miracle also by which he receaued it. For finding himself very dul, he earnestly begged of our Bles∣sed Ladie, she would vouchsafe to beg of her Sonne, that he might vn∣derstand the Scriptures. Our Blessed Ladie appeared vnto him, and tolde him, his request was granted; and that he should haue so much insight in them, that no bodie in that Age should come neere him; only that he should not burie his Talent in the ground, but carefully traffick with it; which certainly he performed abundantly; for he neuer after ceased to write and reade. In the eighth Age, from One thousand two hundred til One thousand three hundred,* 1.921 Helman a Monk of Bea••uais was very skilful both in holie Scriptures, and Secular learning, and left manie things writ∣ten. And at the same time Wiliam Abbot of Poictiers was a great Diuine, and a great Ciuil-lawyer. And Philip Perganius in a Monasterie of Padua was rare both for learning and eloquence; and Peter Berchorius a Monk in Paris, of whose bookes there is a long Catalogue to be seen.

13. From the yeare One thousand three hundred til the yeare One thousand foure hundred, we meete also with manie famous men of learning, as Lapus

Abbot of Saint Min••a••,* 1.922 for Diuinitie, and both the Ciuil and Canon law; and Peter Bo••erius Abbot of Auian, Doctour of the Canon law; and Peter Rogers, he that was afterwards Pope, knowne by the name of Clement the Sixt,* 1.923 a man of great wit, and excellent learning, and so eloquent, that he drew the people in his Sermons to what he would; that it can be no wonder, if a man so qualifyed, was raysed to he highest dignitie in the Church of God.

13. The tenth Age til the yeare One thousand fiue hundred, besides other raremen, reckoneth some that are very eminent in the Canon Law; as Henrie Abbot of Nuremberg; Iohn Rhode Abbot of ••reuers, who did God good seruice in the Councel of Basle; Nicolas also, he that first was Abbot of Munichen, after∣wards Archbishop of Palermo, and lastly Cardinal. He wrote manie Aduises in Law,* 1.924 and a Comment vpon the whole bodie of the Canon law; the authoritie whereof is to this day so great, that no man is more famous then he.

14. Finally in this last Age, in which we are, we know of manie learned men; as Ignatius Abbot in a Monasterie of Florence; Iohn Bap••••lla in Parma; both of them eminent in Diuine and Secular learning. In Spaine we heare of one Paschalis, that was publick Reader of Diuinitie in Salaman••a. And finally in these our dayes, the name of one Gregorie is famous, who was Abbot of the great Monasterie of Mantua, and afterwards made Cardinal by Paul the Third. He is said to haue been skilful in al Sciences; & that he spake Latin and Greek both readily and eloquently. And as he lay on his death bed, it is reported of him that he spake thus to him that wayted in his chamber: Behold, we haue been Cardinal thus manie yeares;* 1.925 what becomes now of this honour? How much better had it been to haue dyed in Religion, where my soule had been in lesse danger?

15. These were Monks, & few in comparison of them I might name. In other Religious Orders, Learning hath flourished more, because their endeauours haue been directed to the help of others, who cannot be holpen without lear∣ning. And it is a thing worthie of admiration, to see how plentifully al Orders haue been stored with rare wits, and men of great learning. But because these Orders are of later standing, and consequently the subiects of them more knowne, we wil passe them ouer cursorily, and only name them.

16. First therefore, what rare men haue the Dominicans had? Albertus Magnus,* 1.926 Heruous, Durand, Hugo Cardinal, who hath written learnedly vpon al Scripture; Raymund, he that, according to S. Antonine, ordered the Decre∣tals, by appointment of Pope Gregorie; S. Antonine himself, a man rare for lear∣ning and sanctitie; Capreolus, Petrus Tarantasius, he that afterwards was Pope by the name of Innocent the Fift, Petrus Paludanus, Chrysostomus Ianellius, Ferrara; both the Sotus; two Cardinals, to wit, Torquemada, and Caietan, and manie more whom it were to long a busines to rehearse. But he that among them al cannot be omitted, and of whom we haue special reason to speake apart, as the chief of them al, is S. Thomas,* 1.927 whose profoundnes, perspicuitie, & abundance of knowledge, who can extol as he deserueth? And besides these who are al of them knowne by their writings, who is able to reckon al them that haue laboured profitably in the Church of God, in euerie Age, to the great benefit of their Neighbour, by teaching schooles, determining doubts, deliuering their opinions in seueral occasions, and haue liued with

great commendation of al men,* 1.928 the number of them is so infinit?

17. The Franciscans began somewhat later and not so generally at first to giue themselues to Learning. For their Founder S. Francis hauing recea∣ued the wisedome and knowledge, which he had, rather from heauen, then got it by his owne labour and industrie, brought-vp his Friars to the same.* 1.929 Yet S. Antonie of Padua coming to his Order with a great deale of learning from the world, he permitted him to teach Diuinitie to them of his owne Order; and the short Epistle is yet extant in which he giueth him leaue to doe it; so that withal he be careful, as he speaketh, that the occupation of learning, extinguish not the spirit of prayer. Afterwards vpon this president (and also vpon necessitie, that they might be able to help their neighbours) others among them fel to their studies, and profited exceeding∣ly in them. For about the yeare One thousand two hundred fourtie fiue, Alexander Hales was famous for learning;* 1.930 and after him his schollar S. Bonauenture,* 1.931 a man ful of knowledge, and facil and cleere in his explica∣tions. And about the yeare One thousand two hundred fourescore and fiue, Richard Midleton;* 1.932 and Iohn dunskot, commonly knowne by the name of Scotus in the yeare One thousand three hundred; a man admirably subtile and acute. There followed them their schollars Wiliam Ockam a very wittie man;* 1.933 and Francis Ma••ron, he that in the Vniuersitie of Paris is stiled the Illuminate D••••∣tour. About the same time liued Al••••rus Pelagius a Doctour of the Canon and Ciuil Law, and of Diuinitie; of whom euerie bodie had a great opinion in his life-time, but chiefly Pope Iohn the Two and twentieth. We may adde Peter Auicolus, who by his learning got the Chayre at Aix; and Nicolas Lyra,* 1.934 a Iew by descent, who is famous for his Notes vpon the whole Scripture according to the Literal sense, about the yeare One thousand three hundred & thirtie, & of late yeares Alfonsus a Castro, Michael Med••na, Francis T••••lma••, singu∣lar in interpreting the holie Scripture, and diuers others, that are so knowne that it is to no end to name them.

18. We may make the like catalogue of men of other Religious Orders; for al of them haue been fraught with learned men,* 1.935 and some very eminent among them. As among the Augustins Aegidius Romanus,* 1.936 in the yeare One thousand and fourescore. Among the Carmelites Thomas of Walden in the yeare One thousand foure hundred and thirtie. Among the Carthusians Dionysius, in the yeare One thousand foure hundred and f••urescore. To be short, he that desires to know more at large, what learning hath been brought to light by Religious men of al Orders, and what fruit hath come of it to the Church of God, let him reade Trithemius, who hath diligently and carefully layd togeather al the Ecclesiastical writers, that haue been since the birth of Christ in euerie Age; in which large Work of his, he shal find that Religious men are the farre grea∣ter part among them, and shal meote with few others in comparison of them; which is an euident argument of what I haue sayd.

* 1.937In which kind also our Societie of IESVS, though last in time, hath done somthing, & added a helping hand to the aduancemēt of Learning. For not only the whole bodie of the Societie doth attēd to learning, it being one of the chief things, which by institute it professeth, but it hath reuiued that which was an∣ciently ••he practise of Religious men, but of late yeares hath been intermitted,

and not contenting itself with professing learning within itself, it vndertaketh to communicate the learning, which it hath, with others, by teaching publick Schooles. And to the end it may deriue the greater benefit to others, it con∣fineth not itself to Diuinitie or Philosophie, as for the most part other Reli∣gious Orders doe, but it teacheth al Arts & Sciences and Grammer-schooles; and leaueth out none but such as are not so suitable to a Religious profession to meddle in, as the Ciuil or Common Law, and Physick.

19. In fine, to summe-vp the discourse which we haue made, Religious men may in a manner glorie, that most kinds of learning haue been reuiued by their industrie, which but for them would haue been wholy extinct; others haue been refined and polished by them. For what had become of Diuinitie, which is the Queen of al Sciences, if it had not been cultiuated by them, and brought into the way and method, in which it is? And though Philosophie hath been learnedly handled by others, yet Religious men haue much illustrated and enlarged it, and added, and explained, and reformed manie things in it, ac∣cording to the rule of Faith.

20. It remayneth that we speake of Eloquence,* 1.938 wherin Religious men haue been as eminent as in Learning. And we shal easily see it, if we consider the infinit multitude of Preachers, which in the Christian world are beating their Pu••pits, specially at some times of the yeare. For though al of them be not equally eloquent, yet no man can deny that there haue been and are to this day very manie exquisit tongues, that with a fluent stile, and choyce words, and abundance of good matter wel couched togeather, take, and delight, and leade the ••uditorie to what they please. For if the effect of Eloquence be the applause of the hearers, certainly they, that deale with people that are sensual (such as naturally loathe spiritual things) & are notwithstanding able▪ not only to draw them to giue eare vnto them, but to hold them suspense in admiration, and delight them, and steale vpon their minds and affections, so as to bring some from dishonest behauiour to chastitie, some from vnlawful trading to vpright dealing, some from rancour and hatred to peace and concord, finally not a few from the loue of the world, in which they were drowned ouer head and eares, to the contempt therof, and vtter forsaking of al earthlie things, must needes haue a great guift in speaking. Anciently the Oratours that could speake to the humour of the people were in greatest esteeme; and we find few either in Greece or Rome that could doe it; and those few are so famous that the Countreys, where they were borne, are renowned for them. What an honour therefore is it to vs, to haue so manie rare men in this kind? But if we reflect vpon the solidnes of the matter, the weight of both their sayings, and, as I sayd, vpon the effects which ours haue wrought, there is no comparison betweene them and vs.

21. We reade of S. Bernardin of Siena,* 1.939 a Franciscan-Friar; he was a man so wel-spoken, that in what place soeuer & at whatsoeuer time he was to preach, not only the people that had nothing else to doe, came to heare him, but euen trades-men shut vp their shops, and euerie bodie else their houses, to be at his Sermon.

22. We find the like recorded of S. Peter,* 1.940 who is now commonly called the Martyr, of the Order of S. Dominick. He trauelled almost through al parts of

Italie; and making a stay for some time in euerie cittie and village, he re∣claymed and infinit number of people by his holesome exhortations from the filth of sinne. At his first arriual vnto anie place, it was an ordinarie thing for al the inhabitants, from the highest to the lowest, to go out to meete him with flags and sound of trumpets, and accompanie him with like solemnitie when he went away, and had much adoe to parte from him; and such a multitude alwayes thronged to his Sermons, that he was forced oftimes to be carried away in a cart, that he might not be crushed in the presse.

* 1.9412••. What shal we say of S. Antonie of Padua? whome the people did vsually follow in such multitudes, that the largest Churches they could choose, were not capable of them, but they were fayne to carrie the pulpit into the streets or into the fieldes, and yet they flocked thither so fast to take place betimes, that a man might see noble men & women repayre thither before day, and stand expecting his voice as it were from heauen. And while he was speaking, though there were sometimes thirtie thousand Auditours, there was not the least noyse, or muttering, or spitting to be heard, but al were extreamly silent and attentiue. Did the like euer happen to Demosthenes, or to anie of those ancient Oratours, though they were held to be neuer so eloquent?

* 1.94224. We reade no lesse of S. Vincent a Dominican-Friar; and one thing in particular, which doth liuely set-forth the force of his eloquence. For wheras on a time two malefactours were going to dye, he commanded them to stand at a place where he was preaching, their faces couered, probably to the end they might be lesse distracted; where he began to discourse with that vehe∣mencie of the fowlenes of sinne, of the paine of hel, and such other motiues as are wont to stirre-vp sorrow and repentance, that the two malefactours began first to sweate for verie grief and contrition of hart, and at last were turned into a very coale, as if they had been burned with fire; which was apparent vnto al the people, so soone as their faces were vncouered. How vehement was his speach, which was able in this manner to inflame both the mind and the verie bodie also? We meete not with manie of these very strange effects, which S. Vincent wrought; but we meete with others much of the like nature, to wit, inward conuersions, strange reformations, great restitutions. And that S. Vincent and other Religious men were so powerful in their speech, is a great honour and commendation to the whole State of Religion. Wherefore to conclude this discourse of natural helps, as God commanded the Iewes, when they went out of Aegypt,* 1.943 to borrow the Aegyptians best vessel and household-stuff, & carrie it with them: So when Religious men forsake the world, they goe not out of it voide of natural guifts, but carrie their abilities of wit, and memorie, and learning, and other qualities with them; and employing them with care and industrie,* 1.944 the Graces of Heauen concurring, they wonderfully encrease them, and grow eminent in them; and haue in Religion both more abundance of these natural guifts, then they could haue had, if they had remayned in the world, and are more able to make vse of them. For how often, or rather how daily are mens wits, and eloquence, and other nobilities lost in the world, lying dead for want of action? And though they be employed vpon secular oc∣casions, they are notwithstanding but idly spent; because the things in which they are employed, are earthlie & pe••ishable; wheras in the negotiation, which

Religion affordeth, they are bettered, for the reasons which I haue sayd, and concurre in great measure to the aduancement of the glorie of God.

25. In which respect some doe truly and fitly compare Religion to that holie Iudith,* 1.945 who towards the ouercoming of Holofernes applied not only prayer, and fasting, and hayre-cloth, as she was wont to doe before, but made vse of her rings, and pendants, & slippers, and al her best attire, and set-forth her natural beautie to the most; and God blessed her endeauours, adding (as the Scripture telleth vs) more grace and beautie to her countenance; & giueth the reason of it, because she intended al this trimming of herself not for loosenes, but for vertue. So when Religious men seeke these natural abilities, they seeke not themselues, hauing vtterly forsaken al from their hart; but they seeke the glorie of God and the benefit of their neighbours, for whose good al that beautie is intended; and consequently it belongeth also to the goodnes of God, to encrease their abilities, and (as I sayd before) to make them more graceful and effectual, then the self-same would haue been in a secular course of life.

Reasons, why Religious men profit so much in Learning. CHAP. XXXIII.

BESIDES the special assistance of God, which doubtlesse is the chiefest cause, there be other reasons, why Religious men haue been and are most commonly so eminent in al kind of Learning.* 1.946 For first the studie of wisdome requireth time and application of mind; both which are seldome found in the world, and abound in Religion. For Secular people are continually in one busines or other, and wholy taken-vp with the cares of the world; they that haue no busines, spend their time in vnprofitable things, as in hunting and hawking, in play and such like pastimes; people being generally giuen to ••ase, and to shunne labour, as an enemie to nature. Religious men on the other side are free from al worldlie busines, and consequently haue time at wil, and they spend it not in idle trifles; neither are they called from their studies, by the trouble and paines, which is annexed vnto them; because they are accustomed and take a delight in this crosse and mortification, aswel as in manie others.

2. Peace of mind,* 1.947 which followeth out of the suppression and rooting-out of our disordered affections, is a great help to profit in learning; for if it be not possible to keep our mind attentiue to our studies while we are run∣ning-about or in anie violent exercise of the bodie, much lesse can we vn∣derstand anie thing, if our mind itself be wholy troubled, no more then we can see in a duttie troubled water.

3. Temperance and sobrietie helpeth also thervnto.* 1.948 For those that are ful fed, haue not the functions of the minde free as they must, but are dul and heauie.

* 1.9494. What need we stand multiplying words? Auerroes a Heathen, and yet a good Philosoper, sayth, that Chastitie and other vertues, by which the desires of the flesh are curbed,* 1.950 are special helpes for the attaining of Speculatiue knowledge. And finally (as I sayd before, but I meane to insist somewhat more vpon it) the light and grace of God concurreth aboue al. For Religious men directing their studies & labours to the seruice of God his immortal light, when God giueth them good successe in them, he dilateth his owne busines, and concurreth to the aduancing of his owne glorie and cause; which is otherwise with most secular people, that studie for honour or lucre sake. And so we see that God doth oftimes enlighten the mind of Religious men, and shew them obscure and hidden things, and makes them capable to vnderstand the hardest Questiōs by miracle, beyond the course and abilitie of their nature.

* 1.9515. S. Thomas finding great difficultie in soluing a certain Question, on a time when he had stuck much vpon it, was ouer-heard by his companion Reginal∣u•• being in the same chamber, as if he had been speaking with some bodie in the ni••ht, and when their communication was ended, he called-vp his com∣panion, & dictated vnto him manie things without stop or pawse, contrarie to his custome, as if he had been reading them out of a book composed to his hand. Re••ina••dus falling downe at the Saint's feete, beseeched him earnestly and presse him to tel him, who it was he had been discoursing-with a litle before. S. Thomas ouere me by his importunitie, tol•• him, it was S. Paul the Apostle, that had giuen him the solution of that Question. And at other times the same Saint told R••ginaldus in familiar conuersation that al the knowledge he had, came to him more by light from heauen, then his owne labour and industrie. Which Reginaldus kept to himself so long as S. Thomas liued; for the Saint had desi••ed, he would; but after his decease, he spake of it often both in priuate and in open Schoole, that others might by his example learne, which is the shortest and gaynest way to wisedome.

6. That which I rel••ted before of Hermannus Contractus, and Rupert Abbot of T••y is yet more admirable, both of them coming to so eminent learning by the guift of our B. Ladie.* 1.952 The like hapned vnto Albertus Magnus; for as we reade in the Chronicles of the Dominican-Friars, entring into the Order when he was but sixteen yeare old, and profiting litle or nothing in his studies, be∣cause he was dul and had but a weake memorie, he grew so wearie of it, that he was tempted euen to forsake the Religious course which he had begun. And while he was thus wauering, he dreamed in the night, that he was s••aling the walles of the Monasterie to get away, and that two venerable Matrons ap∣peared vnto him, & first the one & then the other thrust him downe the ladder, as he was getting vp; and endeuouring the third time to step vp, a third Matron asked him, what he went about to doe, & wherefore? And hauing told her, she willed him rather to beg the assistance of a fourth Ladie, which was the Mother of God and Queene of Heauen; and told him that herself and the rest would stand his friends. He did as he was aduised; and our B. Ladie gaue him friendlie audience, but asked him, in what Science he would choose to be eminent, in Philosophie or Diuinitie.

He, like a yong man, that had not tasted of higher matters, sayth he had rather be eminent in Philosophie. And our B. Ladie replyed, it shal be as thou desirest; but because thou hast preferred this

knowledge before the knowledge of my Sonne, in thy ••atter dayes thou shalt leese al thy knowledge, and fal into thy former dulnes, which now shal be taken from thee. The Vision vanishing, he presently felt an alteration in him∣self, and euer after was easily maister of whatsoeuer he heard or read; or if he met with anie difficult question, he turned himself to our B. Ladie, & claimed her promise; and instantly he was at the end of it.

By this meanes he came to that greatnes which we reade of him, and he taught manie yeares, and wrote very manie things. And three yeares before he dyed, whilst he was giuing the explication of some passage or other in a publick assemblie, he felt at the instant, that his memorie failed him; insomuch that he could not remember anie thing at al. Then he told his Audience, what had hapned vnto him in his youth; and making protestation that whatsoeuer might befal him, he belieued the articles of the Catholick Faith, and desired to die in the profession of them, he came downe out of his Chaire, his Schollers following him wi••h teares, and embracing him; and in the rest of his life he waxed as it were a child againe; and passed his time in great simplicitie; yet so, as he omitted not anie thing belonging to the dutie of a Religious man; for his memorie serued him for such things, and for nothing els. This strange accident which befel Al••ertus (God taking from him al the knowledge which he had lent him, to shew that it was his guift) giueth vs to vnderstand, that other Religious men, that are or haue been excellent in Learning, haue had it also by the special help and grace of God.

Of three degrees of Beautie and Dignitie, which are in Religion. CHAP. XXXIV.

LET vs now consider the dignitie of Religion, as it is grounded in the distinction, which Diuines doe giue, of three kinds of Religious Orders; for some giue themselues to Action; others to Contemplation; others couple Action and Contemplation both togeather.

2. The first degree therefore confineth itself to outward actions,* 1.953 which though they be done to men, haue relation to God; which S. Thomas discoursing of, proueth, because a Religious State is directed to Charitie; and Charitie resteth not in God only, but stretcheth itself to our Neighbour;* 1.954 and yet in regard we loue not our Neighbour but for God, what∣soeuer seruice we doe to our Neighbour, we doe it to God; in which respect al such outward actions belong to the vertue of Religion. And so we find, that whatsoeuer beneuolence is bestowed vpon man,* 1.955 is called by S. Paul, a Sa∣crifice, and an Hoste; and consequently, as the same S. Thomas i••ferreth, Re∣ligious Orders may be erected for the performance of anie work, that is be∣hoofful for our Neighbour; as for the exercises of Learning or of Warre, so i•• be intended for the honour of God, for the Church, or for the common

good; and the like we may say of other works done for God's sake, as to ransome prisoners, to gather almes for releef of the poore, or for the placing of yong women in marriage; to serue in Hospitals, and the like.

3. Which kind of Religious Orders is no new inuention; for they haue been anciently in vse, as we may vnderstand by that which we reade in Cassian,* 1.956 where he bringeth Abbot Nestero•• discoursing to this effect: This manner of practical life (for so he stileth it) is vsed in diuers sorts.* 1.957

Some employ themselues in entertayning of guests, in which kind he commen∣deth Macarius for his meeknes and patience; others take charge of sick people; others beg releef for them that are in miserie; some againe bestow their labour in teaching, and instructing their neighbour, others in other businesses, and (as he speaketh) haue been accounted great men for their good wil and deuotion.

And what can be sayd more in commendation of these kind of courses, then that they that follow them, haue made them∣selues voluntarie seruants not of God only, but of men for the loue of God, and of men infirme and needie? What charitie, what humilitie, what true and solid patience must needs belong to such a course of life? Finally out Lord himself highly commendeth them in these words:* 1.958 What you haue done to the least of mine, you haue done to me. In testimonie wherof himself in person, King of Kings, hath vouchsafed to honour these kinds of seruice, with eui∣dent miracles; as when he was entertayned by S. Gregorie; and receaued an almes from S. Martin; and the charitie of Iohn Columbinus, to whome he appeared in the shape of a sick leaper lying in the streets; and when S. Iohn tooke him vp vpon his shoulders, and carried him home, and had washed him, and layd him in bed, he vanished away.

* 1.9594. The second degree of Religious Orders betaketh itself to the exercises of the mind in Contemplation; which kind of life hath been alwayes held so worthie, that Aristotle, and al the Philosophers that came any thing neer the truth, placed the felicitie of man in it. Neither is this kind of quiet and retire∣ment to be accounted idle or vnfruitful; for as Aristotle also did obserue,* 1.960 it cannot be called idle, because though it cease from outward action, it hath the inward; and speculation itself is a kind of action. And we see, that outward actions are oftimes attributed to them, that haue not outwardly laboured in them, but inwardly only in thought and forecast; as a victorie is attributed to the General, though he fight not with his sword, but by his counsel. Which if a Heathen Philosopher could arriue to know, what opinion ought we to haue of such a kind of employment, who know how great the busines is, which we handle in Contemplation, what communication is to be had with God, what light, what acts of loue? So that if we cannot but think the studie and occupation of knowing God, to be the prime and most excellent work we can employ ourselues in, we must needs also conceaue, that the Religious, who giue themselues wholy to this studie, are equal, noble, and excellent. Let vs heare how S. Augustin doth set them forth with his eloquence:* 1.961

I say nothing of them, that wholy retired from the sight of men, contenting themselues with bread and water,* 1.962 which is brought vnto them at certain times, dw••l in the desert places, enioying familiaritie with God, to whom with a pu•••• minde they cleaue; and by contemplation of whose beautie they are most

happie; which happines cannot be conceaued, but by them that are Saints. I wil say nothing of them. Some are of opinion, that they retire themselues out of the world more then they ought; not vnderstanding how much benefit we reape by their soules eleuated in prayer, and by the example of their life, though we be not suffered to see their bodies. It were long and needles to dispute this question. For if a man conceaue not of himself, how venerable and admirable this eminent height of sanctitie is, how shal my words make him conceaue it?

Thus sayth S. Augustin. Now if we compare these two degrees togeather, no doubt but this latter is more noble then the former, con∣sisting, as I sayd, in outward action. For as S. Gregorie speaketh,* 1.963 great are the deserts of the Actiue life, but the Contemplatiue is to be preferred; and this was figured (as he discourseth) in the sisters,* 1.964 Rachel and Lia, Martha and Marie; Iacob beating more loue to Rachel then to Lia,* 1.965 and our Sauiour commending Marie aboue Martha, because she was not sollicitous about manie things, and had chosen the better part, which should not be taken from her.

5. But because the vulgar sort,* 1.966 who measure euerie thing by that which they doe, and are capable of no more, are wont to hold, that the Reli∣gious courses which are in Action, are more difficult then others, which giue themselues to Contemplation;* 1.967 making account that these latter liue but an easie life; the authoritie of S. Gregorie, and the reason also which he giueth, doth euidently confute their errour. He sayth thus:

The mind fastneth vpon the Actiue life wi••hout fainting; but in the Contemplatiue it is soone wearied by the weight of our weaknes. The Actiue lasteth more constantly, by reason it dilateth itself in things that are obuious for the behoof of our neighbour; The Contemplatiue shrinketh away the sooner, because strayning itself beyond the bounds of flesh, it labours to rayse itself aboue itself. The Actiue taketh the playne beaten way, and consequently treadeth stronger in the works it goeth about; the Contemplatiue ayming at things higher then itself, falleth the sooner through wearines to itself.

6. But now finding that these two liues are both of them excellent,* 1.968 though one of them be more excellent then the other, we may easily con∣ceaue, how farre the third degree, which comprehendeth them both, is more eminent and more noble then either of them seuerally. For if we take them apart, notwithstanding their excellencie, there is something wanting in both of them.* 1.969 For to goe no further then the authoritie of S. Gregorie aboue-mentioned, Rachel (as he sayth) signifyes the Beginning seen; and Lia signifyes payneful: betokening that in Contemplation we seeke a Beginning which is God, in Action we labour vnder the heauie burden of necessitie.

Againe Rachel is sayd to be beautiful, but vnfruitful; Lia bleare-eyed▪ but yet fruitful: because, the mind taking rest in Contemplation, seeth more, and begets fewer children to God; but where it is directed to the labour of preaching,* 1.970 it seeth lesse, and bringeth-forth more children.

These are S. Gregorie's words. And by that which he sayth we may see, that if there were a course of life, that without the incommodities of each of these States, could enioy the commodities of them both, there could not be a more perfect or more excellent course. For wheras the greatest thing we can ayme at, is God, who is the Soueraigne Good, and from whome we receaue al

things, and next are men of the same nature with vs, which is the greatest propinquitie or kindred in the world, no action in this life can be more noble, then that which is directed to the glorie of God, and good of our Neighbour. And moreouer God himself, Prince and Gouuernour of this world, bending his thoughts and actions in a manner to nothing els, but to rayse mens minds to Heauen, from earthlie things to which they haue so basely stooped, there is no question, but to imitate this care of his, and co-operate with him in it, is one of the most noble, and most acceptable businesses we can em••loy ourselues in.

* 1.9717. Wherefore S. Thomas doth rightly distinguish the functions of the Actiue life into two sorts. For, sayth he, some haue their ful perfection in the bare outward action; as to entertaine pilgrims, to serue the sick, to goe to warre;* 1.972 and these certainely are farre inferiour to Contemplation: others flow from the abundance of Contemplation, as when our mind inflamed with the loue of God, breaketh-forth into the outward actions of Preaching, Teaching, Catechising, and the like. And these are not only more noble then Action by itself, but also greater then Contemplation alone, when it reflect no further then itself, and reaches not to the benefiting of others. And yet this kind of life shal not need to stand in feare, least it fal into that which our Sauiour reprehendeth in Martha, to wit, sollicitude and trouble about manie things. For when Contemplation is coupled with outward Action, they agree so wel togeather, that Contemplation is a help to the outward work, which we haue in hand, and the outward work doth not hinder Contemplation. For, as S. Augustin sayth very wel,

There is a kind of securitie and solid con∣tentment of mind,* 1.973 which man doth sometimes fal vpon, so great as al worldlie ioy is not to be compared to the least parcel of it; and it hapneth to him so much the oftner, the more inwardly in the secret closet of his mind he adoreth God; and the selfsame tranquillitie remaynes not only while a man is solitarie and retired, but when he is in action, if his action proceede from that inward retirement.

8. For mine owne particular, I am of opinion, that they that resolue to communicate their vertue with others, are so farre from leesing anie thing by it, as they rather get, in no smal measure. For they put God to a kind of necessitie of giuing them that, which is his wil they should bestow vpon others. To which purpose we may apply that, which our Sauiour sayd; Giue, and it shal be giuen you; and the Holie-Ghost in the Prouerbs insinuateth: The soule which blesseth, shal be famed; and he that maketh another drunk, shal be made drunk.* 1.974 So that it is with them much as it is with the Prince's Almner, whome the Prince alwayes furnisheth with store of money;* 1.975 though, if the Almner be trustie, there remayne nothing to his share, nor is he euer a whit the richer. Wherefore we may rather liken them to one of the Prince's Nurses, that is fed from the Prince's table, and giues the infant part of that, whereof herself hath plentie.

9. Now how farre this kind of life goeth beyond al other Institutes, ap∣peares by this one thing, because euen they that haue giuen-ouer al busines, & betake themselues to the spiritual rest of Contemplation, shal fayle notwith∣standing of their dutie, if, when their Neighbours are in spiritual necessi••ie,

they leaue not their retired thoughts, and runne to help them. Which argument S. Augustin vseth writing to the Monks of the Iland Capraria,* 1.976 exhorting them not to preferre their owne quiet before the necessitie of the Church; at whose labour (sayth he) if no good people would assist, themselues would not haue found the way, how to come into the world. And so we find, that those great men among the ancient Fathers often forsooke their solitudes and the deserts in which they had continued manie yeares, for this onlie reason; as Theodore•• in his Booke intitled the Religious historie relateth of Iulian,* 1.977 that when the wicked opinion of the Arians began to spreade itself, Bishop Acatius drew him from his denne, with this perswasion, that seing he endured so much to please God, the best way to please him,* 1.978 was to goe now into the field, and to his power re∣scue the Church, that was in danger. Christ, when he asked Peter thrice, whe∣ther he loued him, bad him also thrice feede his sheepe. And God tendering the Saluation of Man-kind so much as he doth, expects that al that loue him and desire to be loued by him, take this busines to hart. And of Eusebius he also tel∣leth, how Am••anus wonne him to the like busines, wishing him to take heed he loued not himself more then God,* 1.979 spending his whole time and industrie vpon himself; for if he did truly loue God, he would labour to bring manie more to loue him.

10. Bu•• that which he recounts of Aphraates, a very holie man, expresses best of al that which we are saying. For in the persecution which the Empe∣rour Valens raysed against the Church,* 1.980 he came like a good Souldier into the field, and put himself of his owne accord into the batail, leauing the wildernes, in which he had spent great part of his life. And on a time meeting the Tyrant, and being challenged by him, what he did among men, being a Monk, he answered vndantedly in these words: Tel me, ô Emperour;

If I were a mayde retired in my closet for modestie sake, and should see my father's house al on a burning fire, were it fitting for me to sit idly beholding the flame? And if I should doe so, I should also be consumed by the fire? And if thou think it com∣mēdable for such an one to runne out, and carrie water, & labour by al meanes to quench the fire; it is that which thou seest me doing: thou hast set the House of God on fire, who is most truly our Father; and I doe what I can to quench it. Thus spake Aphraates in those dayes; and ours are not much better, but are pestered with as much infection now brought-in by Satan, as was then by Valens.

So that the Religious Orders, which now are in great number, and op∣pose themselues to his furie, do benefit the Church exceedingly, and deserue great commendation and honour for it.

Religion is a perfect Common-wealth. CHAP. XXXV.

HItherto for the most part we haue discoursed of the digni∣tie, which euerie Religious man purchaseth to himself by his vertue; which vertue notwithstanding Religion itself abundantly giueth occasion and meanes to purchase. Now we wil consider, what beautie and excellencie is in the whole bodie of Religion. For it cannot be, that God should so liberally bestow his graces vpon euerie part therof,* 1.981 and leaue the bodie neglected; the good of the whole being (as Aristotle speaketh) more diuine. Therefore we wil shew, that Religious Orders are a most perfect Common-wealth within themselues. And I insist the rather vpon it, because manie ancient Philosophers hauing strayned their wits to set downe some ab∣solute forme of good, solid, and perfect gouerment, not to the end to bring it to effect and put it in practise, but only to draw such a thing in conceit, and leaue the forme therof in their writings, could neuer bring it to so much perfection, as we see practised in Religious Orders; but that which they discourse-of in their bookes, comes farre short, of what by the goodnes of God we possesse.

2. First therefore to euerie man there belongeth two kinds of life: a natu∣ral life consisting of bodie and soule vnited, and a supernatural life infused by Grace and other celestial habits; and consequently there be two sorts of Com∣munication amongst men; one in natural, another in supernatural things; and, that which necessarily followeth,* 1.982 two Common-wealths. For as S. Augustin telleth vs, a Common-wealth is nothing els but a companie of men linked togeather by some common bond of societie. So that the nobler and the more excellent the bond is, in which men agree (it being the ground of al Communities and Common-wealths) the more noble also and more excellent is the Communi∣tie and Common-wealth; as the Common-wealth of the Romans, contayning the gouerment of the whole world, must needs be more maiestical then a Common-wealth of pesants, or trades-men, if anie such be. This our Com∣mon-wealth therefore doth in this one thing farre surpasse al Cōmon-wealths that euer were, or could be desired or proiected by the Philosophers; because the good, which is intended in worldlie Common-wealths, is earthlie and hu∣mane; the good which is in ours, is Heauenlie and Diuine; and consequently surpasseth al other more then anie man can conceaue.* 1.983

3. Another thing wherin our Common-wealth excelleth, is this. Citties, as Aristotle acknowledgeth, are not erected for people only to liue in; for so (as he obserueth) there might be a cittie of beasts, because they must liue, nor only for defence against enemies, nor for traffick; because so al Confederats should make but one Cittie. The cause therefore, why Citties are built, is, to liue honestly and wel in them. For if euerie one, that gouerneth himself by Reason, doe th〈…〉〈…〉 doth for some good end, a Cittie also, which is a thing much

more noble then euerie priuate man by himself, must intend that which is the best and greatest good, which is vertue and honestie. This is Aristotle's dis∣course. To what Common-wealth therefore (if Aristotle himself were aliue to iudge) doth al this agree more properly, then to Religion? the end of it being nothing but Vertue, & hauing so manie easie wayes to attaine vnto it; specially that being also true,* 1.984 which he obserueth, that where Vertue is not respected and honoured aboue al other things, the best state that is, cannot long endure. For where shal we find one Common-wealth among those of this world, where power, and wealth, and nobilitie, and fauour doe not beare the sway? But in Religion vertue doth not only vsually, but almost necessarily, rule al because they haue reiected al earthlie things, the glorie wherof doth so much dazle peoples eyes; finding also one thing more in it, which the Philosopher in another place doth make a great matter of, to wit, that it is a rule among Religious Orders, that equalitie or superioritie goes not by riches or bloud, but by vertue;* 1.985 so that they that are equal or more eminent in vertue, are truly equal or more eminent, and not if they be equal or more eminent then others in bloud or riches.

4. Wherefore hauing layd this foundation, as it were a beginning of our Religious Common-wealth, let vs consider the rest of the forme of it, wherof there be two parts; for as the bodie of euerie liuing creature consisteth of the head that ruleth, and of other members that are ruled and obey, so the bodie of euerie Common-wealth hath certain members which belong vnto it, to wit, euerie particular person of it;* 1.986 and the head, which be the Gouernours and Ma∣gistra••s. And to beginne with that which is principal, it is no smal benefit and commendation of Religious Orders, that they are gouerned not by manie, but by one man. For wheras the greatest good that can happen to a Communitie, is to be vnited and one within itself, it is a much more effectual meanes to main∣tayne this vnion, to haue the gouerment in one man's hand, then to haue it in manie; for if it were in manie, to gouerne wel they must become one by cōsent; as when manie help to draw or carrie a great weight; for they cannot carrie or draw it, vnlesse they be in some sort vnited, and in that vnion and c••••socia∣tion become like to that, which is truly one in itself.

5. Which kind of gouerment we see in Nature. For al things depend of one▪ al the members of a bodie are gouerned by the hart; al the powers of the soule, by reason; the whole world and al things in it, by one God. It is true, that in the command, which one man alone hath ouer others, there is this danger; least al being in one man's hand, he turne al to his owne priuate ends, by the strength of his power, riches, or ambition. Wherefore to the end he may gouerne wel, he must (as S. Thomas discourseth at large in his Direction for the gouerment of a good Prince) haue God before his eyes, and endeauour to bring his subiects to the obedience, and seruice, and honour of God; which how hard it is in the world, and how easie and daylie in practise in Religion, who is there that doth not see? For the principles, which are most apt to peruert mens thoughts and affections, and turne them from the true seruice of God to their priuate intentions (to wit, that we must establish our great∣nes▪ desire, to be feared; cut-of the heads and causes of conspiracies; abound 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pleasure and plentie of earthlie goods) are furthest of al from the seruants

of God; because in that poore estate, there is no ground of wealth or pleasure, wherupon to build the desire of these things.

* 1.9876. And moreouer it is no smal help, that they that gouerne in Religion, haue nothing more then the rest, but their authoritie; they haue neither state, not palace, nor attendance, nor seruants, as Secular Magistrats haue, which are wont both to feede and inflame ambition, and make it swel; and ambition brings with it al corruption of Gouerment. Contrariwise the humilitie of the state of Religion, which the Gouernours themselues alwayes retayne, put; them in minde, that they are but like others that are vnder them▪ and that, which S. Gregorie admonisheth,* 1.988 is practised among them:

They who gouerne, consider not in themselues the power of order, but the equalitie of their con∣dition; to the end they may not reioyce in being ouer men, but in being bene∣ficial vnto them.

* 1.9897. And in this kind our Common-wealths haue the aduantage of most others, because that, which Aristotle esteemeth best in a Common-wealth, is obserued in them;* 1.990 to wit, that the Gouernours succeede not by birth and des∣cent, but by election, being chosen therunto by weight of their life, and be∣hauiour, and wisedome. For they that come to their Gouerment by inheri∣tance, falling vpon their charge as it were by chance, whatsoeuer they be, they must be tolerated; by which meanes manie Citties haue come to great mischief, the gouernours vndoing themselues and others, through rashnes, and want of skil. The gouernment of Religion is free from this inconuenience; because it descends not by right vpon anie man, but is giuen by Voices, or by other law∣ful power. And wheras in other Common-wealths there is danger in the Voices, because Offices and Promotions not being conferred but vpon them that pretend and labour for them, commonly he that presseth most, and some∣times he that giueth most money, and maketh most friends, goeth away with it: In Religion it is farre otherwise; for Offices are rather cast vpon them; that decline and refuse them. Wherin, seing Aristotle himself doth directly affirme that they who pretend, are euen for that reason lesse worthie, in regard they shew themselues to be ambitious and desirous of honour,* 1.991 and such people doe manie vniust acts, what is it fit for vs to think?

8. The same Philosopher doth giue this pertinent aduise also, that the power of them that gouerne,* 1.992 must be on the one side so large, that they must haue more then anie one particular man;* 1.993 and yet so limited, as they must haue lesse then al of them togeather; which we scarce see obserued in anie worldlie Common-wealth. For he that once gets to the sterne, doth presently so streng∣then himself, that euer after he curbes the people at his pleasure, and doth with them what he list. In Religion the forme of gouerment requireth, that as they receaue their power from their Order, so it is stinted and limited by the Order, and may also be taken wholy from them.

9. Finally, not to spine-out this discourse too long, let vs see what doth chiefly belong to the dutie of a Gouernour,* 1.994 in the opinion of this Philosopher. He placeth it in that he make account,* 1.995 that he is seruant to al his subiects, and bend al his actions and thoughts, to the benefitting of them. This, sayth he, was at first the resolution of euerie good King; but fel to be corrupted, meerely by the cōmodities which accompanie that place. This which Aristotle therfore

sayth was anciently in vse, and grew afterwards to be otherwise, we findest•• in practise in Religion. For the Gouernours doe wayte vpon the benefit of their subiects, as seruants vpon their maisters, principally taking care for their soules▪ and being also careful of that which belongeth to the bodie; when the subiects are at rest, & know not how or which way they are prouided of necessa••ie food and sustenance, the gouernours watch and labour for them, and euerie one in particular taking no thought at al for himself, they are constrayned to be solli∣citous for al. What is slauerie, if this be not? By which meanes they are also ••ree from the danger, which is in Kingdomes and Empires, least the commodities which attend vpon them, ouerthrow Religious discipline, because the Pouer∣tie, which Religious men professe, excludeth al these commodities, & bringeth manie incōmodities with it, & consequently excludeth al enuie and ambition.

10. And so much for the head, If we compare the members one with ano∣ther, two things concurre to the beautie and dignitie of Religious Common∣wealths. First a great equalitie of vnequal members, secondly, as perfect com∣munication of althings among them, as can be. For as a Cittie, which hath not seueral States and Degrees of the Nobilitie, and meaner, and middle sort, of trades-men, and others, is but poorly prouided, and neuer able to subsist▪ and yet if this varietie be not bound and linked togeather by participation in diuers things, it would be in great confusion, because it could not be anie wayes One, but, as Aristotle speaketh,* 1.996 ful of manie enemies of the Common-wealth. In Religious communities the selfsame is ful as necessarie; and they enioy both these perfec∣tions without the incommodities opposite vnto them.

11. For fi••st,* 1.997 there is an inequalitie and difference among them in their natu∣ral dispositions and inclinations, in their studies and knowledge, in their wit & capacitie, and other abilities of their mind and vnderstanding; as in al other things that are rightly ordered, there is euer some difference and distinction. In the heauens, some starres are bigger or lesser then other some; in this inferiour world, al the beastes of the earth are not of like bignes, or strength, or quick∣nes; the members of the selfsame bodie haue a difference in the honour and be∣neficialnes of them; and that great Householder hath not diuided his Talents equally among al men, but to some he hath giuen one; to some, two; to some, fiue; which kind of disparitie in Religion, as it is altogeather necessarie and very vseful, so doubtles (if we consider it wel) it cannot choose but be a great ornament vnto it.

12. And to the end it may be no occasion of breach of vnitie and concord,* 1.998 it is tempered with such admirable equalitie among them, that there cannot be anie thing more like and equal one with another, then people that liue in Re∣ligion. They goe cloathed alike, and al weare one kind of Habit, their lodging and diet is alike, and euerie thing els that is outward to the eye; but much more that which is inward, agreing in loue, & participation of good works among them, of which I haue spoken at large before, and hauing benefit by what soe∣uer good is in the particular Religion of which they are, and in al other Reli∣gi••us Orders besides. These are the solid comforts of a Religious life, wherin there is no difference betwixt the learned and the vnlearned, betwixt the wisest and the ignorantest man among them.* 1.999

13. Why therefore may we not say of them, s S. Augustin sayd of a Cittie

wel gouerned,* 1.1000 that they are al like a consort of Musick, where diuers Notes combined togeather make a melodious harmonie? For what Cittie can chal∣lenge this propertie with more right then Religion, where there is such varie∣tie of persons, lincked togeather with such concord and discord, & proportio∣nable disproportion. For if the connexion of natural things is beautiful and ad∣mirable, by reason of the dependencie, which they haue of one another in their motions, from the first to the last, finding the like connexion in things that are gouerned with reason, it must needs be the more beautiful and decent, the more perfect and noble the nature of them is; and consequently, if the disposition and order of those inferiour things, breed delight in whosoeuer doth behold them, these must needs breed much more in practising the like order and connexion. So that wheras the Pythagorians imagined a kind of Harmonie in the Celestial Orbes, by reason that their motions so wel ordered, & so constantly obseruing the selfsame course and distance, doth expresse a kind of Musical cōcent equal∣ly various; Religious Orders do so liuely represent the same, that if we lend the cares of our mind vnto them, we cannot but perceaue a most heauenlie cōsort.

14. Finally, the perfect communication of al inward and outward things, which I mentioned before, no bodie drawing anie thing from the rest to his owne particular, is an exceeding grace and ornament to this Religious Com∣mon-wealth. Plato,* 1.1001 that great Philosopher, did so highly esteeme this one point, that it was the mayne thing which he required in the Common-wealth, which he went about to frame, as I sayd before; but it neuer could be brought to passe in anie Communitie, but in Religion. S. Iohn Chrysostome doth highly com∣mend Religious people for it, because their houses are free from Mine and Thine, which two words (sayth he) haue been the vndoing of mankind. And it is in itself of great cōsequence; not only because it is an euident signe of Vnion and charitie, but moreouer preserueth and nourisheth it, and cutteth-of al mat∣ter of dissention, which the desire of particular things, which euerie bodie can∣not enioy, is apt to breed.

And besides this communication▪ there be so manie other meanes and wayes, to breed and establish perfect concord and vnion among them, that, as I sayd els-where out of S. Augustin, they are one soule, and one hart; manie bodies, but not manie harts. They that wayte, & those that are wayted on (sayth S. Iohn Chrysostome) sit at one board,* 1.1002 and are serued alike; they are cloathed, & lodged alike, leade the same kind of life There is not pouertie and riches, honour & contemptiblenes. There be litle & great among them, ac∣cording to the measure of euerie one's vertue; but no man sees that. He that is litle, is not grieued, as if he were slighted; nor is there anie man, that slights him.

15. Deseruedly therefore doth the Prophet Dauid reckon this among the won∣derful works of God, that he maketh people of one fashion to dwel in a house; that is, so louing and vnited togeather, as if manie were but one. And our Lord himself speaketh of it by the Prophet Sophonias,* 1.1003 as of a promise of great account: I wil restore to the people a chosen lip, ••••at al may cal in the name of our Lord, & serue him with one shoulder. Where the nature of a Religious state is described vnto vs, cōsisting in two things, to wit, in worshipping, and praying, & calling vpon God, expres∣sed by the word Lip, and a ch••sen l••p; and in brotherlike loue and vnion, al con∣curri•••• with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 strength, and making as it were one shoulder, by which mea∣nes, if there be anie burthen in this seruice of God, it is the lighter to euerie par∣ticular, and felt the lesse by them.

How much honour Religious Orders haue done to the Church of God. CHAP. XXXVI.

A Cittie placed vpon a hil, cannot be h••dden; and they light not a candle, and put it vnder a bushel,* 1.1004 but vpon a candlestick, that it may giue light to al that be in the hous••. Vertue hath this propertie, that it bewrayeth itself by the light which it hath, no lesse then anie other light; and the more perfect it is, the m••re it doth shine abroad. Which if it be true in euerie particular man that is vertuous, how much more true is it, when manie vertuous men ioyne togea∣ther, and make one Corporation and cittie? We may iustly therefore say, that Religion is a Cittie placed vpon a hil, both because it is compounded of seueral persons as a Cit••ie is, wherof we haue spoken alreadie at large in the prece∣dent Chapter; and it is seated in an eminent and loftie situation, to wit, in in the top of Euangelical Perfection, which al, that haue not arriued to so high a pitch, but remaine in an inferiour estate, must needs admire, and lift-vp their eyes, as to people that are aboue them. And consequently the Cittie itself being so noble, and seated moreouer vpon a hil, so that it cannot be hidden, but must needs be in the eye of euerie bodie, al the glorie, and commendation, and worth, which it hath, must also redounde to the glorie and commendation of the whole Church, wherof it is a part. For which consideration S. Gregorie Nazianzen calleth Religious people, the first fruits of our Sauiour's ••lock,* 1.1005 pillars, and crownes of Faith, and pre••ious margarits. And S. Hie∣rome: Certainly the Order of Monks, and Virgins, is the sl••wer, and as it were a pretious stone among the ornaments of the Church. He sayth a Religious course is both a Flower,* 1.1006 and a Pretious stone, declaring in the one the beautie of that state, and in the other, the great esteeme and value, which is moreouer to be made of it, and the holie Church partaketh of them both. For the dignitie and beautie of this life doth both exceedingly comfort, and delight, and encourage the Faith∣ful, and confound the Aduersaries therof. Insomuch that that great Champion of the Catholick Faith S. Augustin, in the booke which he wrote of the Man∣ners of the Church, among other arguments, which he brings to disproue the er∣rours of the Manichees, against whom he penned that Treatise, he insisteth mainly vpon this▪ that in the Church, there shal be such multitudes both of He∣remits leading a solitarie life, and Monks liuing in common togeather; and de∣scribing their manner of conuersation at large, at last he concludeth, as it were, brauing the Manichees in these words:* 1.1007 Oppose yourselues, if you can, you Ma∣nichees, against these; behold them wel, and name them if you dare without lying, and with shame enough.

Compare their fasting with your fasting, chasti∣tie with chastitie, cloathing with cloathing, sare with fare, modestie with modestie, charitie with charitie, and, that which in po••teth most, orders with orders.

2. S. Laurence Iustinian,* 1.1008 a man renowned for learning and sanctitie, handleth this selfsame subiect yet more copiously, and deserueth to haue his

whole discourse set downe at large. He sayth thus: Among other things which aduance the glorie of God, and make Infidels haue a good esteeme of the Ca∣tholick Faith, is the liuing of the Faithful in common togeather; and special∣ly the life of them, that contemning the vanities of this transitorie world, and abandoning the pleasures of the flesh, and promises of wealth and honour, dedicate themselues to God in the Cloisters of Monasteries by perpetual vow of a voluntarie seruitude.* 1.1009 For who can doe otherwise but prayse and extol the Diuine goodnes, and wisdome vnspeakable, beholding innumerable people of both sexes in the flower of their youth, in perfect health, and proportion of their bodie, swimming in abundance of earthlie substance, happie in the pos∣session of lands, and vinyards, and houses, and seruants, and honoured with ma∣nie noble friends and kinsfolk, willingly to renounce the world, and spurne at the pride therof, to forsake al their kindred, and to put themselues into the ser∣uice of our Sauiour Christ, by exercise of obedience, vnder the conduct of a man that in a māner is a stranger vnto them? For this certainly is beyond that, which men ordinarily doe, and beyond the common fashion of liuing. For the natural affection which we haue as children, doth not suffer vs to contemne them that begot vs, & brought vs into the visible light of this world. The law, I say, which is naturally inbred in the harts of men, doth not perswade vs to leaue our owne cittie, al our kindred, al our play-fellowes, al our friends and acquaintance; and to goe dwel with strangers, to trauel into farre countries, citties, and villages, not for a yeare, or two, or three, but al our life-time; & of our owne free choice to suffer hunger and thirst, cold and nakednes, to punish our bodies also with watching, and fasting, and other labours, to bring it vnder with daylie abstinen∣ces, and, that which is greater then al this, to fight against the inclinations of ou•• owne wil. For nature itself inticeth, custome teacheth, humane frayltie vrgeth, loue of good companie draweth, common curtesie perswadeth, and the swe•••• conuersation of people at home, and specially of our kindred, doth compele••••∣rie bodie, that hath anie spark of reason, to keep where he was borne, to enioy the companie of his kindr••d, to take care of his owne possessions, and take his pleasure in them, and to follow the inclinations of his owne wil. But when we see the quite contrarie acted, it proceedeth either out of feare of death, or cer∣tain knowledge of the ficklenes and falshood of the world, or out of an assured and strong hope of future happines; which hope we cannot taste of, but by the light of Faith, which is giuen vs before. And we come not to the possession of this Faith, of which we speake, by our owne free wil, but by the guift of God, who hath mercie on vs, and draweth vs, and preserueth vs. The glorious Mar∣tyrs enlightned with the splendour of this Faith, haue with most ardent cha∣ritie endured for Christ, fire, imprisonment, chaynes, stripes, torments, reproa∣ches, exile, losse of goods, and death. The holie Anchorets, endued with the cleernes of this Faith, haue filled the deserts, walked the wildernesses, builded Monasteries, therin to attend to the glorifying of God, to giue themselues to often prayer, to labour with their hands at conuenient times, and to assemble togeather the children of God dispersed euerie where abroad, and to ouer∣come the secret attempts of their inuisible enemies. Inspired certainly by God, they vnderstood that this world is ful of concupiscence of the flesh, allurements of the eyes, and other pleasures, and of pride of

life. They saw that men did dayly cast themselues headlong vpon vice, neglect the Law of God, contemne his commandments, follow the plea∣sures of present delight, and giue themselues wholy to earthlie lucre, tran∣sitorie honour, hurtful dishonestie, and secular cares, which make the louers of them strangers to God & to themselues, and breed an auersion from al vertue. For, light and darcknes, vanitie and truth, vertue and vice, the loue of God and of the world, the works of the flesh and of the spirit, the ioyes of this life and of the life to come, cannot meete in one, nor stand togeather. Wherefore to the end they might doe God the seruice, which is due vnto him, and curbe the passions of vice, which continually boyle-vp from the sting of sinne and itching flesh, and bridle their owne wil, from which euerie beginning of sinne doth receaue nourishment, for the loue of Christ they haue deliuered themselues ouer into such prisons. By these laudable intentions, by this manner of liuing, our holie Mother the Church is glorifyed. For euen in these times, in which we see iniquitie abound, and the charitie of manie to grow cold, there want not some, who treade the footsteps of the holie Fathers, though not with so great feruour of charitie, as they. For there be sundrie Congregations of the seruants of God, which though they be in their habits different, different in their constitutions and ceremonies, yet labour with one and the same intention of glorifying God, and gayning their Neighbour, and for the same end of coming to their Heauenlie countrie. O how manie of both Sexes, in this great multitude of seruants of Christ diffused euerie-where almost throughout the whole world, are eminent for sanctitie? How manie fatten themselues with singular deuotion, and continual prayer? How manie are conspicuous for heroical vertue? Some are rare for humilitie, others for constant patience, others for puritie of mind, others for zeale of righteousnes, others for the loue of God and their Neighbour, others for their singular preheminence in Religious conuersation. Al of them labour without enuying one another, without pride of hart, according to the measure of Faith, and of the Grace, which is giuen them, to please God, to profit dayly, and to heape-vp gaynes of the Talents, which are lent them.

3. Thus farre S. Iustinian; wherin he hath discoursed so largely, and so eloquently, that we shal not need to say anie more of this point, but only agreable to the sense of these holie Fathers, applye the saying of the Holie-Ghost to Religious people,* 1.1010 where he sayth by his Prophet: I haue framed this people for myself; they shal recount my prayse. For who hath framed this people brought from a farre-of, as there it is sayd, and gathered togeather from the vtmost bounds of the earth, but God, who commandeth light to shine from darknes? And to what purpose is it framed, but to recount his prayse? This is the busines of Religious people, not only because they sing and proclaime his prayses with their mouth, and speake of his glorie to al men, but they recount them by their verie life and conuersation. For as a curious picture, or what∣soeuer excellent peece of workmanship, doth silently tel vs, how rare the workman is and layes his worth before our eyes, & perswades more euidently and certainly of it, then anie man's speach can doe: so these kind of Religious Institutes, of which God only can be the Authour, doe most cleerly and cer∣tainly lay downe before vs, his infinit wisdome and goodnes.

Of the honour, which is done to Religious people, euen in this life. CHAP. XXXVII.

OVR Lord spake a word by his Prophet, which he hath alwayes made good: Whosoeuer shal honour me, I wil glorifye him; and they that contem••e me, shal be ignoble. Religious people therefore employing themselues so wholy in seeking the glorie of God,* 1.1011 that it is their whole endeauour to humble and abase themse••ues to that end, we may with reason think, that the Diuine goodnes hath also had a particular care to honour this state of life, and to giue it such beautie and grace, as should be admirable euen in the eyes of men. For the promise,* 1.1012 which we reade in the Prouerbs of the fruit of Wisedome, was to be fu••fi••led in them: Take it, and it wil exalt the••; thou shalt be glorifyed by it; when t••••u shalt haue embraced it,* 1.1013 it wil giue to thy head an addition of graces, and protect thee with a noble cr••wne. S. Basil, among other reasons, which he bringeth to moue pe••ple to Religious courses, doth not stick to vse this: that they, that enter into Reli••i••n, shal be glorious euen vpon earth; their friends wil make great account of them, and vse their help and intercession in their behalf, and furnish them with necessaries, is valiant souldiers, & inuite them home to their houses, and entertaine them ioyfully as Angels of God,* 1.1014 and (as the Apostle speaketh) as CHRIST himself.

* 1.10152. And if we consider the nature of the thing itself, we shal ••ind, that it is in a manner necessarie, it should be so. For first Aristotle sayth truly, that the true ground of honour, is goodnes; and the greater the goodnes is, the greater ho∣nour is due vnto it;* 1.1016 and consequently Vertue is the onlie thing, which with reason we can think to be worthie of honour; and in like manner, they that haue vertue. People that are noble and rich in the world, and haue great power, haue but an outward kind of worth and excellencie, in comparison of them, that haue vertue; but the reason, why they are vulgarly more honoured, is, because the vulgar sort of people make account, that there is no other good, but these exteriour things. This is Aristotle's discourse; wherof it followeth, that not only the wiser sort, but the vulgar also, if they haue anie conceit▪ what true Vertue is, must needs honour it farre more, then anie outward thing; and consequently, if Vertue be so playne and conspicuous, that euerie bodie must needs see it, they cannot but beare great respect vnto it, and beh••ld it with great veneration. Religious perfection is of this nature. For it is an eminent state of life, seuered from the ordinarie courses which people take, and ful of those orders and practises, which must necessarily be admirable to the beho••••ers. For the greater part of the world being so much carried away with the loue and desire of honour, and wealth, and pleasure, and other 〈…〉〈…〉 commodi••ies, they cannot but admire those, that they behold

so high-flowne aboue them, that they doe not only not seeke after earthlie things, but contemne and despise them. Which contempt is not secret in the mind and hart only, but is to be seen in their verie habit and whole course of life; so that euerie ordinarie man must needs discouer it, and needes no great reflexion to make him in loue with it.

3. Secondly,* 1.1017 the neere relation which they haue to God, being consecrated to him, and dealing familiarly with him, as his domestical seruants, or rather friends, doth naturally breed a great veneration towards them. In so much that we see, that it hath alwayes been the custome, not only among Christians, but among Infidels, and those that haue not had the true knowledge of God, to deale with more respect with them, that haue particularly deuoted them∣selues to the seruice of God, then with anie others. For as there is no nation so barbarous, but doth in some sort acknowledge, that there is a Soueraigne Nature so powerful, that al good things are to be asked of it, and punishment expected for offences committed, in which respect they worship that Nature with particularities and ceremonies, so there is no bodie, that doth not think, that they are particularly to be respected and reuerenced, that haue particular relation to that Nature; and so we see the practise of al Antiquitie. For, as we reade in Genesis,* 1.1018 it was a custome in Aegypt, that the Priests should be maintay∣ned at the common charge which was the reason, why their possessions were not taxed, nor seazed in that dearth. And at Rome not only the Priests, but the Southsayers, and diuers other inferiour Sacrificers, were in so great vene∣ration, that those Offices being in the guift of the people, they were sought after and conferred with great concourse and emulation; and it was held to be so worthie and magnifical a function to Sacrifice, that when the Kings were put downe, and the name of a King was so odious among them, that nothing more, it remayned notwithstanding to the Priest without enuie or distaste.* 1.1019 And we reade that the Priest of Iupiter bore such sway, that people flocked vnto him, as to a Sanctuarie. For if a prisoner fel at his feet, he was instantly released; and if he were guiltie, he was pardoned. The V••ssal Virgins (which among them were as our Nunnes are among vs) were held to be so holie, that no bodie must touch them, and they had two Sergeants went alwayes before them; and if by chance they had met anie man that had been going to execution, he was presently set at libertie. And to speake of these our dayes; what honour and power do not the Iaponians yeald to their Bonz••; who imitating euerie thing, which our Monks professe (but Chastitie and vertuous behauiour) their habit, and singing, and liuing in common, and the like, are reported to be in so great veneration, that they are like earthlie Gods among them; they rule in a manner al, and oftimes giue and take away Kingdomes at their pleasure. And to conclude, it is most certain, that al that euer haue acknowledged anie Diuine Nature (as al haue done) haue also borne particular respect to them, that haue dedicated and con∣secrated themselues to this Nature; and this opinion is bred not by per∣swasion of others, or by law, or statute, but by the light of Nature, without anie teaching or instructing; which general consent of al na∣tions in whatsoeuer it be, is to be accounted the voice of Nature it∣self.

4. Wherefore, if not only the foolish but wicked Superstition and beleef of false Gods was anciently, and is yet so powerful in this kind, certainly the true Religion, and worship of the true and Soueraigne God, must needes be much more powerful. For the greater knowledge and esteeme Christians haue now of the great Maiesty of God, more then the Infidels had of their false Gods, cannot but breed also a greater veneration of them, that are neer to so great a God.

* 1.10205. We reade of S. Dominick, that the more he did humble himself, the more euerie bodie, euen Cardinals and the Pope himself, did respect him; and the common people did honour him so much, that they thought themselues happie, if they could but come to speake with him, or touch his garment; and euerie bodie did cut-of peeces of his garment, and kept them for relicks, so that his vpper weed was alwayes cut-of by the knees. And when his Friars, to ease him of that trouble, would hinder the people, from so continually pulling him by the coa••e, he bad them let them alone, saying: they must satisfye their deuotion.

* 1.10216. When S. Francis hapned to come into anie towne, people thronged so thick about him, that he was in danger sometimes to be oppressed; and once he stood stil, and gaue euerie bodie, that would, his hand and his garment to kisse. His companion admiring at it, asked, when he was priuate with him, what he meant to doe so. S. Francis answered him;

Know, Brother, that they haue not done me the hundredth part of the honour, which is due vnto me.

Which answer troubling him more then before, he gaue him this reason: Be∣cause (sayd he) people honour not me, but God in me, who gaue me al the good and al the Religion that is in me. And it is not the vulgar only that honour Re∣ligious people, but great Princes and Monarcks, as Constantine honoured S. Antonie, the Emperour Otho S. Romualdus, coming to see him in his celle, and vouchsafing, as great a man as he was, to take a lodging vpon his hard couch.

* 1.10227. When S. Maurus was sent into France by S. Benedict, Florus who was the greatest Fauorit, King Theodobert had, presented his sonne and al his wealth vnto him;* 1.1023 and afterwards betook himself also to his Monasterie, to the astonishment of al France. And King Theodobert himself went some dayes iourney to visit that new companie of Christ's Souldiers; and when he can••t thither, and had made an end of his deuotions in the Church, going into the Monasterie, he cast himself vpon the store before the Monks, laying his purple Roles and his Royal Maiestie vnder the feete of poore beggerlike men; & be∣seeching they would vouchsafe to admit him into their Companie (for so were his words) and inrole his name among theirs; and bestowing manie rich pre∣sents of gold and siluer for their Church ornaments, he departed, thinking that God had done him a singular fauour in suffering him to see and conuerse with those seruants of his.

8. And of later yeares, in the same Kingdome, when Lewis the Eleuenth by much entreatie, assisted by Pope Sixtus the Fourth his command, got S. Fran∣c••s of Paula to come vnto him from the furthest parts of Calabria,* 1.1024 how louingly and respectfully did he entertaine him? how much ioy did the whole Court and Kingdome of France expresse at the coming of so poore and contemptible

a man? So that it was apparent in him, that the excellencie of a Religious life, doth oftimes (as S. Chrysostome discourseth) make people that are borne obscu∣rely and meanly in the world,* 1.1025 and had remained in obscuritie if they had not forsaken the world, by change of their state of life become honourable in the sight of them, that before did account them base.

9. S. Arsenius was schoolemaister to Arcadius sonne to the Emperour Theodosius,* 1.1026 and was so farre out of his fauour, that he was faine to fly, because he vnderstood that Arcadius had plotted his death. But manie yeares after, when it was knowne that he had betaken himself to the seruice of God in the wildernes, Arcadius then Emperour writ an humble letter vnto him, commen∣ding himself and his Empire to his prayers. Arsenius certainly was neither more learned, nor more noble then he was before; rather al the credit and renowne which he had gotten in the world, was now forgotten. How then came he to this new honour, but by the Religious course which he did professe?

10. We might bring manie other ancient and moderne examples to the same purpose; but to be brief, we wil conclude this whole discourse with a notable testimonie of Cassian,* 1.1027 who sayth, that the promise which our Sauiour made of an Hundred-fold, is fulfilled in the reward of the present honour, which Religious people haue in this life. These are his words:

Doe not they, I pray you, that serue our Sauiour faithfully, most manifestly come by that Hundredfold grace by this, that for his names sake they are honoured by great Princes? And though they seeke not after humane glorie, yet they are venerable, euen in the afflictions of persecution, to al Iudges and people in authoritie, though other∣wise their meannes might haue been perhaps contemptible euen to people of inferiour condition, by reason of the basenes of their birth or seruil condition, if they had remained in the world? Which we may euidētly proue by the exam∣ple of Abbot Iohn, who resideth in the wildernes which bordereth vpon the towne called Lycus. For being borne of very meane parentage, he is growne so admirable to almost the whole world for Christ his sake, that the Lords of this world (who by reason of their gouerment are terrible) euen to Kings and Prin∣ces, doe honour him as their Maister; and crauing answer from him from coun∣tries afarre-of doe commend the state of their Empire, their safegard, and the euents of warres, to his merits and prayers.

Thus sayth Cassian. To which we may adde, that this is the truest and greatest honour of al the honours which are giuen in this life to men. For when others are honoured in regard of their power, or their wealth and riches, the honour is not so much giuen to them, as to their riches or their power, in regard of some commoditie or reward, which people hope frō them. But in a Religious state, where there is none of al this, certainly whatsoeuer respect is done them, cometh wholy from the beau∣tie and vertue of the State itself. In which kind there hapned a remarkable thing to Iohn Becanus a Frāciscan-Friar,* 1.1028 as we reade in their Chronicles. He was held to be the learnedst man of his time; and reading a publick Lecture of Diui∣nitie in the Pope's pallace, euerie bodie had such an opinion of his learning, that besides others of al sorts that came vnto him, manie Bishops and Cardinals resorted to heare him; and they were wont to rise-vp and stand bare, as he passed through the schoole to his Chaire. It hapned that he was made Arch-Bishop of Canterburie, and continued notwithstanding his Reading; and then

none of the Cardinals would stirre for him, because before (they said) they ho∣noured Vertue in him, wherin they acknowledged themselues to be his in∣feriours; but now they might be thought to honour him in respect of his dig∣nitie, wherin they were aboue him.* 1.1029

11. True honour therefore is that, which is grounded in Vertue, and in the State itself; and this is the best and solidst foundation. For if Religious people suffer sometimes by slanderous and reproachful reports and speaches, it is but seldome, and hapneth not only by malice of the Diuel, that opposeth them but by permission of God to exercise our vertue, to encrease our crowne, to make vs conformable to his Sonne, who foretold his Disciples as much, and in his Disciples al others:* 1.1030 If they haue persecuted me, they wil persecute you; and giueth this reason: because the seruant is not greater then his maister; as who would say, he that wil be my true Disciple, and true seruant, must vndergoe the like.

12. Wherin we may behold the wonderful wisdome of God, and his pro∣uidence ouer vs, disposing so, that wheras the excellencie of this state is appa∣rent to most men, and honoured by them as it deserueth, he would not but that there should be some, who should not see it, but be crosse sometimes to Religious people, to the end we and others might benefit ourselues by it. For if al should set Religious people at naught, no bodie could haue anie be∣nefit by vs; if al should loue and cherish vs, it would also turne to our great pre∣iudice. In the one therefore God had an eye to our good, in the other to the good of our neighbour; and tempereth both so, that our life (according to the saying of the Apostle) might ma••ch, as it were, by certain steps and degrees, by glorie and ignobilitie, by in••ainte & good report, & we ourselues as vnknowne, and yet knowne; a•• seducers, and yet people of truth. And yet though we ought to be thus armed on the right hand, and on the left, that, which we haue savd and pro∣ued, remaineth vndoubted, that euen the world doth honour this State aboue Kingdomes and Empires.* 1.1031 Lewis sonne to King Charles of France vnderstood it wel, whome we mentioned before. For abandoning the inheritance of so rich a kingdome, and entring among the Franciscan-Friars, as ••e had much and long desired, one of the Friars of the same Order coming vnto him to con∣gratulate him, among other things, sayd, that he had that day highly honou∣red the Order by his entring into it; but Lewis replyed: Yea rather, I am this day more honoured by this Habit.

The end of the Second Booke.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Psalm. 132.
• * 1.2

  S Basil. Const Mon, c. 19.
• * 1.3

  S August. in Psal. 132.
• * 1.4

  Religious men properly are Bre∣thren.
• * 1.5

  Act. 4.32.
• * 1.6

  Cass. Col••. 16. c. 3.
• * 1.7

  Religion Compared to the Priestly oyntment.
• * 1.8

  2 Cor. 2.16.
• * 1.9

  S. B••s•••• reg. ••us. disp. c. 6.
• * 1.10

  S August.
• * 1.11

  The spirit of Religiō to dew.
• * 1.12

  Iohn. 17.3. Iohn. 6 63. 1. Iohn. 3.14
• * 1.13

  S Bernard. Serm 4. de Ascens.
• * 1.14

  The di∣gnitie of Religion
• * 1.15

  A great te∣stimonie of the di∣gnitie of Religion.
• * 1.16

  S. Gregory.
• * 1.17

  S. Gregorie in pro••mio Dialog.
• * 1.18

  11 Regest ep. 4 & seq.
• * 1.19

  Earthly things li••t∣le in them∣selues.
• * 1.20

  Socrates.
• * 1.21

  And of no value.
• * 1.22

  S Bernard ser. 4. de Aduent. S Iohn Chrysosto. ser. 2. de vit. Dom.
• * 1.23

  The lapo∣rians trea¦sure.
• * 1.24

  All things are varia∣ble.
• * 1.25

  S. Aug. 4. Conf. c. 10.
• * 1.26

  S. Leo. ••. de 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.27

  S Greg. 21. mor. c. 1.
• * 1.28

  Id. 25. mor, c. 2.
• * 1.29

  〈…〉〈…〉 16.10.
• * 1.30

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 102.11. ••ac 4.14. Ioh•• 1.13. S Greg. 15 m••r. 24
• * 1.31

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 5. mor. c. 2.
• * 1.32

  Euery thing un∣certaine.
• * 1.33

  S. Bernard 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.34

  S. Ma∣carius.
• * 1.35

  S. Bernard ser. 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.36

  S. Greg 18. mora••. 12.
• * 1.37

  The māner of enioying the crea∣tures of this world is but base.
• * 1.38

  The goods of this worldful of trouble.
• * 1.39

  S. Bernard epist. ad Sophiam.
• * 1.40

  The greatnes of God best she∣wes the basenes of Creatures.
• * 1.41

  Creatures in compa∣rison of God are not.
• * 1.42

  Iob. 14 4. S Greg. 16. mor. 18.
• * 1.43

  Exod. 3 14.
• * 1.44

  S Grego•••••• mo••••••
• * 1.45

  H•• things are to be valued.
• * 1.46

  S. Bernard epist. 11 ••.
• * 1.47

  Wherin nobilitie consists.
• * 1.48

  S Ambrose lib de Noë 4.
• * 1.49

  S Hierom. ep••st 14.
• * 1.50

  Plato dial. 5. dereg.
• * 1.51

  Arist 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.52

  T••••ee dif∣ference of natures.
• * 1.53

  Ps. 48.1••.
• * 1.54

  Ps 81 6. Rom. 8.
• * 1.55

  S. 〈…〉〈…〉 1.
• * 1.56

  Vertue na∣turally breedeth loue and admira∣tion.
• * 1.57

  S. Ambr. l. 5. in Luc.
• * 1.58

  The excel∣lence of Religious Pouertie. Philip. 3.9.
• * 1.59

  Pro••. 30.••••
• * 1.60

  C••ss. lib. 4. c. 15.
• * 1.61

  Voluntarie pouertie is rare.
• * 1.62

  Incite∣ments of Coue∣tousnesse in the world.
• * 1.63

  S. Aug. 2. Con••••ss. c. 6.
• * 1.64

  It is a signe of a noble hart to con∣temne ri∣ches. Ni••u•• lib. ad magna.
• * 1.65

  To hunt after riches is an vn∣worthy thinge. Saint Iohn Chrysost. Homil. vlt. in Ma••••h.
• * 1.66

  Id. Hom. 47 in Matth.
• * 1.67

  Voluntary Pouerty possesseth all thinges. 2. Cor. 6.10.
• * 1.68

  All is in the mind.
• * 1.69

  Clima••us grad. 18.
• * 1.70

  S Bernard. S. 2. in Cant.
• * 1.71

  Io. 12.32.
• * 1.72

  Matth. 5.
• * 1.73

  2. Cor. 6.
• * 1.74

  God is the 〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.75

  Ps. ••••.11.
• * 1.76

  S. Iohn Chrysost. hom. 57. ad pop.
• * 1.77

  Iob. 9.13.
• * 1.78

  The exāple of our Sauiour who was poore.
• * 1.79

  2. Cor. 8.9.
• * 1.80

  Ps. 39.18.
• * 1.81

  Matt. 8.10.
• * 1.82

  The Apost∣les were poore.
• * 1.83

  Act 3.6.
• * 1.84

  2 Cor. 11.27.
• * 1.85

  1. Cor. 4 11.
• * 1.86

  Matt. 10.9.
• * 1.87

  S. Gregor. 3. dial 14.
• * 1.88

  S. Clare.
• * 1.89

  S. Anton 3. Ps. Hist c. 4.
• * 1.90

  S. Francis.
• * 1.91

  S. B••nav••. in the life o•• S F••an∣cis.
• * 1.92

  A notable saying of S. Francis.
• * 1.93

  S Gr••gor 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.94

  〈…〉〈…〉 ho∣noured voluntary Pouerty.
• * 1.95

  Aristides.
• * 1.96

  Plutarch 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.97

  Diogenes.
• * 1.98

  Cra••is. S Gregor. Nazian. ora 30.
• * 1.99

  S. Iohn Ch••ys••st l 2. adu••rsus v••••upera∣toris vit. 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.100

  Epam••non∣das.
• * 1.101

  Voluntary pouerty, not pouer∣ty.
• * 1.102

  Prou ••3.7.
• * 1.103

  S. Greg. hom. ••5. in Euang.
• * 1.104

  S. Ambrose l. 3. epist. 1.
• * 1.105

  Phil. 4.7.
• * 1.106

  Two kind•• Euangeli¦lical Po∣uerty.
• * 1.107

  Tith••mius li. 1. de viri•• i••l. c. 1.
• * 1.108

  S. Bernard.
• * 1.109

  S. August Ep. 109. Auth••n••. col. 1. ••o••st. 3.5. Illud & col. 9. Const. 15.5. si qua.
• * 1.110

  S. Tho. 1. con•• g••n••. 135. & 21. q. 188. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 7.
• * 1.111

  Act 4.
• * 1.112

  S. Hierome. Ep. 22.
• * 1.113

  Sap. 4••.
• * 1.114

  S. Basil. de vera vir∣ginitato.
• * 1.115

  The natu∣ral inclina∣tion which man hath ••o genera∣tion.
• * 1.116

  The cor∣ruption by Original sinne.
• * 1.117

  S Bernard s••r. 2. de Cir∣cum.
• * 1.118

  Chastitie is aboue nature.
• * 1.119

  Sap 8 2.
• * 1.120

  S Basil. suprà.
• * 1.121

  Clima••u•• grad. 15.
• * 1.122

  Chastitie an edo••ife∣rous and heauenly vertue.
• * 1.123

  1. Cor. 15.44.
• * 1.124

  Matth. 22.30.
• * 1.125

  S. C••prian de habi••a Virg.
• * 1.126

  S. And••ros••∣li de Virg.
• * 1.127

  Cassian li. 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.128

  S. Gr••g. N••z an. H••m. in Matt 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Iesus.
• * 1.129

  S. Bernard ep 4••.
• * 1.130

  I••••l 1.17.
• * 1.131

  S. 〈…〉〈…〉 de vi••g c. 79.
• * 1.132

  S. Basil. l. de Virg.
• * 1.133

  Chastity maketh vs like to God.
• * 1.134

  Clima••us grad. 1••.
• * 1.135

  S. Basil lib. de virgini∣tate.
• * 1.136

  Gen. 3.
• * 1.137

  Religious Chastitie compared with other kinds of continen∣cie.
• * 1.138

  Cassian lib. 6. c 4.
• * 1.139

  Helps in Religion to prefer ••e Chastitie.
• * 1.140

  S. Hierome epist. 47.
• * 1.141

  S. Bernard serm 1. omn. sanct.
• * 1.142

  S. Greg. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 c. 13.
• * 1.143

  Daniel. 3.
• * 1.144

  Religious people vn∣capable of Marriage.
• * 1.145

  Esay 5.6.5.
• * 1.146

  S. Basil. lib. de Virg
• * 1.147

  S. August. 〈…〉〈…〉 Vi••g 25.
• * 1.148

  S••p 3.14.
• * 1.149

  S. Hierome Ep. 22.
• * 1.150

  Christ our Sauiour valued obedience at a high rate. Io. 6.38. Philip 2.8.
• * 1.151

  S. Bernard in Cant. ser. 46.
• * 1.152

  S. Thomas 2.2. q 104▪ art. 1.
• * 1.153

  A compa∣rison be∣tween Cha∣ritie and Obediēce.
• * 1.154

  It runneth through al.
• * 1.155

  And com∣prehen∣deth al vertues.
• * 1.156

  Three de∣gree of O¦bedience.
• * 1.157

  S Greg. 35. Moral. c. 10.
• * 1.158

  Obedience a guift pre∣sented to God.
• * 1.159

  Prou 21.28.
• * 1.160

  S. Greg. ••5, mor. c. 10.
• * 1.161

  •• Reg. 15.22. S. Greg. lib 6. in lib. reg. c. 2.
• * 1.162

  The excel∣lencie of Obediēce confirmed by mira∣cles.
• * 1.163

  S. Paul.
• * 1.164

  Iohn.
• * 1.165

  Esay 62.3.
• * 1.166

  The ge∣nerous minde of a Religious man.
• * 1.167

  Philip. 3.••.
• * 1.168

  S. Gregorie, 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ 5.
• * 1.169

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••8.14.
• * 1.170

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.171

  Matt. 19.27.
• * 1.172

  S. August. ep st. 34.
• * 1.173

  S Greg. hom. 1. in euang.
• * 1.174

  Tob. 39.30
• * 1.175

  S. Greg. 31. mor. 19.
• * 1.176

  Es 18.
• * 1.177

  Religious people doe good with ease.
• * 1.178

  S. August. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••.42.
• * 1.179

  Religious people are ••••ble 〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.180

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.181

  S. 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.182

  Not subiect to worldly misfor∣tunes.
• * 1.183

  S. Athan. in vita S. Antony. S. Cyprian l. 2. ••p. 1.
• * 1.184

  Aboue al things.
• * 1.185

  S. Chrysost. hom. 15. ad popul. Antioch.
• * 1.186

  S Chrysoft. de V••rg. cap 81.
• * 1.187

  S. Greg. mor •••• 7•• cap. 15.
• * 1.188

  Religious men freely speake their mind.
• * 1.189

  S. Colum∣banus.
• * 1.190

  Eccl. 14.25.
• * 1.191

  S Antonio of Padua.
• * 1.192

  Religion preserueth vp in pros∣peritie.
• * 1.193

  S. Antonie the great.
• * 1.194

  The force of the loue of our kin∣dred.
• * 1.195

  Grace stronger the•• na∣ture.
• * 1.196

  Matt. 10.31.
• * 1.197

  Theodoret in Relig. hist.
• * 1.198

  Ps. 44.11.
• * 1.199

  Gen. 12.
• * 1.200

  S. Ambros. lib. 1. de Abrah. c. 2.
• * 1.201

  The fact of Abraham and Reli∣gious men compared.
• * 1.202

  Gen. 12.2.
• * 1.203

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.204

  Deue. ••••.9.
• * 1.205

  Thren. 5.28.
• * 1.206

  S. Greg. Hom. 33 in Fuarg.
• * 1.207

  The diffi∣cultie of renoun¦cing ones∣self.
• * 1.208

  S. Bernard ser dem••∣raculo in nupu••.
• * 1.209

  S. Basil. Reg. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. c. ••.
• * 1.210

  〈…〉〈…〉 2••.
• * 1.211

  S. Bernard 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.212

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.213

  S. Bernard s••r. 19. in Cant.
• * 1.214

  Glossa num. 30.
• * 1.215

  Vertue the riches of a Christiā.
• * 1.216

  Vertues infused with a Re∣ligious vocation.
• * 1.217

  The admi∣tablenes of the three Vowes of Religion.
• * 1.218

  Pouertie.
• * 1.219

  Chastitie.
• * 1.220

  Obediēce.
• * 1.221

  Faith.
• * 1.222

  Hope.
• * 1.223

  Charitie.
• * 1.224

  The loue towards those of the same Institute. Arist. 1. Lib. c.
• * 1.225

  The ex∣cellencie of the ground therof.
• * 1.226

  1. Co••. 9.1••.
• * 1.227

  Prudence.
• * 1.228

  S. Aug. lib. 83 9 61.
• * 1.229

  S Tho••. 2. q. 47 a. 1••. & a. 13.
• * 1.230

  Iustice.
• * 1.231

  Tempe∣rance.
• * 1.232

  Arist. 3. Eth••c 10.
• * 1.233

  Fortitude.
• * 1.234

  S Greg. 7. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 8.
• * 1.235

  Patience
• * 1.236

  S. Ambros. Ep••st▪ 2••
• * 1.237

  Libera∣litie
• * 1.238

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.239

  S Basil reg su••. c. 9.
• * 1.240

  Matth. 19.
• * 1.241

  Arist 4. E••h. c. 1.
• * 1.242

  Humilitie.
• * 1.243

  〈◊〉〈◊〉. 14.10.
• * 1.244

  S. Hierome Epist. 2••.
• * 1.245

  Wisdome.
• * 1.246

  S. Aug. in 〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.247

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.248

  Know∣ledge.
• * 1.249

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.250

  〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.251

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 of God.
• * 1.252

  Prou. ••8.14.
• * 1.253

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.254

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.255

  S. Dion. Ecc. Hier. c. 5.
• * 1.256

  Caiet. 1 2. q. 189. a. 3, S. Basil. de Iust. mo∣nach. ser. 1.
• * 1.257

  Id. Ser. ••▪
• * 1.258

  S. Hiero. Ep. 1••0.
• * 1.259

  Id. Ep. 8.
• * 1.260

  Id. Ep. 34.
• * 1.261

  S. August. lib de 8. Virg. c. ••1.
• * 1.262

  Eccl. 3 20
• * 1.263

  Id. 89.
• * 1.264

  Iob. 7 16. S. Greg. 8. moral. c. 15.
• * 1.265

  Col. 3.3.
• * 1.266

  Luc. 9.32. Luc. 14.33.
• * 1.267

  Origen. Hom. 11. in Leuit.
• * 1.268

  Leuit 20.25. 2. Pet 1.16
• * 1.269

  S Bernard de pr••t. & discip.
• * 1.270

  Religion 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Aposto∣lical life.
• * 1.271

  Rom. 8.23.
• * 1.272

  S. Bernard de 4. deb.
• * 1.273

  Io. 20.29.
• * 1.274

  S. Bernard s••r. de al••••. & Ba••••••. Cord••••. Religion compared with the Prophets, Apostles, and An∣gels.
• * 1.275

  Sap 6 ••0.
• * 1.276

  A rare kind of Prophecie. 2. Cor. 4.••8. Col ••. Plul. ••.13
• * 1.277

  Matth. 19••
• * 1.278

  Matth. 19.21.
• * 1.279

  Religion the chiefest of the Euangeli∣cal Coun∣sels.
• * 1.280

  Precept and Coun∣sel com∣pared.
• * 1.281

  The actiōs of Religion aboue Na∣ture.
• * 1.282

  A Reli∣gious man a great miracle.
• * 1.283

  S. Bernard serm 1. de de••i••. Ecclesiae
• * 1.284

  Two kind•• of Per∣fection.
• * 1.285

  Religion much to be desired.
• * 1.286

  Religious people imitate our Sauiour 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.287

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉.
• * 1.288

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.289

  Cassian l 4. c. 32.
• * 1.290

  A Reli∣gious man an image of Christ Crucifyed.
• * 1.291

  The ho∣nour which he hath by it.
• * 1.292

  S Andrew.
• * 1.293

  S. Bernard vig. na••. Serm. 1.
• * 1.294

  Id. Serm. 4.
• * 1.295

  Pouertie comman∣ded.
• * 1.296

  Id in na••. domini. Serm. 4.
• * 1.297

  S Hierom. Epist 2.
• * 1.298

  Heb. 11.24.
• * 1.299

  Gal. 3.
• * 1.300

  S Leo serm. 2 de R••sur.
• * 1.301

  No excel∣lencie greater then to be like to God.
• * 1.302

  ••say. 14.14.
• * 1.303

  S Leo s••r 1. 〈…〉〈…〉 10. men••.
• * 1.304

  Act. 17.28.
• * 1.305

  Religious people like God.
• * 1.306

  S. Basil ser. 1. de Inst. mon.
• * 1.307

  By quiet of mind.
• * 1.308

  Sap. 12.18.
• * 1.309

  S. Greg. 5. mor. 3••.
• * 1.310

  And by confor∣mitie of wil.
• * 1.311

  S. Bernard ad Fraires de Mon•••• Dei.
• * 1.312

  And by the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••f ou•• Vowes.
• * 1.313

  S Bernard 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.314

  Two kinds of Excel∣lencie in God.
• * 1.315

  Sanctitie the way to honour.
• * 1.316

  S. Bernard ser. 21. in ca••••.
• * 1.317

  ••••c. 1.17.
• * 1.318

  Rom. 12.••••
• * 1.319

  Io. 12.32.
• * 1.320

  Rom. 8.29.
• * 1.321

  Religion compared with Mar∣tyrdome.
• * 1.322

  Religion the safer way.
• * 1.323

  S Cyprian ser c••lap∣s••••.
• * 1.324

  S. Thom. 2.2. q. 124. a. 1.
• * 1.325

  Religion a kinde of Martyr∣dome. S. Greg. ••om. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in E••ang.
• * 1.326

  S August. ser. 150. d•• temp.
• * 1.327

  Climacus grad. 4. S. Hierome Epist. 27.
• * 1.328

  Voluntarie Pouertie a kind of Martyr∣dome.
• * 1.329

  S. Bernard ser. 1 de omnib. san∣ctis.
• * 1.330

  S. Bernard ser. 30. in Can••.
• * 1.331

  S Bernard in o••i. Pasc. Id. in ser. Por.
• * 1.332

  Chastitie and Obe∣dince a k••••d of M••rtyr∣d••me.
• * 1.333

  S. Athan. in Va S. Ao••.
• * 1.334

  R••l••••••••n 〈…〉〈…〉 of death.
• * 1.335

  Many Mar∣tyrdomes in Reli∣gion.
• * 1.336

  Paphnutius.
• * 1.337

  S. Bernard▪
• * 1.338

  1. Cor. 15.31▪
• * 1.339

  S. Bernard. Serm. de Ingrat.
• * 1.340

  Ps. 138.17.
• * 1.341

  Aristotle E••••. 6.
• * 1.342

  How there may be friendship betwixt God and and man.
• * 1.343

  Iohn 15.15.
• * 1.344

  Eph. ••.19.
• * 1.345

  Sap 6.20.
• * 1.346

  The effects of friend∣ship.
• * 1.347

  Arist••tle 7. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 5.
• * 1.348

  Conuer∣sation with God.
• * 1.349

  Philip. 3•• 20.
• * 1.350

  Sap 8.16.
• * 1.351

  S. Bernard•• serm. de Quadr.
• * 1.352

  Religious people are kindred of God.
• * 1.353

  Matth 12.5••.
• * 1.354

  2. Cor. 6.17.
• * 1.355

  Religious people the spouses of Christ.
• * 1.356

  S. Thom. 4. d. 27 q ••. ar. 3. ad 3.
• * 1.357

  In regard of Chasti∣tie.
• * 1.358

  August. 9. in Ioan.
• * 1.359

  And of their vow.
• * 1.360

  Matt•••••• ••.
• * 1.361

  1. Cor. 7.4.
• * 1.362

  They goe to h••••se with Christ.
• * 1.363

  S. Bernard. S. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in Can••.
• * 1.364

  Ps. 118.10••. Matt. 19.27.
• * 1.365

  Gen. 2.24••
• * 1.366

  Philip. 1.21. Prou. 31.••••.
• * 1.367

  The chil∣dren of this spiri∣tual mar∣riage.
• * 1.368

  C•••••• 4.••••.
• * 1.369

  2. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 1.12
• * 1.370

  S Bernard 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.371

  S. Ambros. s••r 9.
• * 1.372

  Osee 2.19.
• * 1.373

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.374

  S. Bernard. 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.375

  S. Thomas 2.2. q 88. art. 7 By solemne Vows we are conse∣crated to God. S. August. in Ps. 231. S. Basil ser. •• de mon. Inst.
• * 1.376

  S. Bernard S. de dedic. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. The Cere∣monies of Consecra∣tion ap∣plied to Religious people.
• * 1.377

  The digni∣•••• of a soule con∣secrated to God.
• * 1.378

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 5.1.
• * 1.379

  God par∣ticularly present in Religious soules.
• * 1.380

  2 Cor. 6.16.
• * 1.381

  3. Reg. ••
• * 1.382

  And the holie An∣gels.
• * 1.383

  2. Reg. 6.1••••
• * 1.384

  Ps. 50.
• * 1.385

  1. P••tr 2.5••
• * 1.386

  S. Greg. 9. moral. ••.
• * 1.387

  Wal••••nt de Sa••ra∣menus ut 9. c. 78.1.
• * 1.388

  Entrance into Reli∣gion is a Sacrifice.
• * 1.389

  S. August. 10. de Ciu ••. ••.6.
• * 1.390

  The Priest, and knife & the fire, in this Sa∣crifice.
• * 1.391

  Ps. 53 ••.
• * 1.392

  Luc▪ 14 26.
• * 1.393

  Luc 12 4••.
• * 1.394

  3. Reg 17.38.
• * 1.395

  S. Greg. h••m. 12 in Ezech.
• * 1.396

  S. Thom. 2•• 2. q 186. art. 7:
• * 1.397

  2 Reg. 2••6 17.
• * 1.398

  Hom. 1••.••
• * 1.399

  The soul•• of man 〈◊〉〈◊〉 grateful Sacrifice••.
• * 1.400

  The soule of a man a grateful sacrifice.
• * 1.401

  S. Bernard. serm 7. Quadrag.
• * 1.402

  Life and death con∣ioyned in this sacri∣fice.
• * 1.403

  S. Greg. hom in vl••. in Ezech. Col. 3.3.
• * 1.404

  Col. 3.3.
• * 1.405

  S. Greg. 6 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.406

  Leuit. 7 8.
• * 1.407

  A Reli∣gious life a continu••l Holocaust.
• * 1.408

  Al iust men are Kings. Bel. 3. in Luc. c. 48.
• * 1.409

  Cant 6.7. S. Greg.
• * 1.410

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.411

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.412

  3. Reg. 1••.
• * 1.413

  4. Reg. 19.
• * 1.414

  Reli••i••us people co∣me more nobl•• to their 〈…〉〈…〉 K••ng to his
• * 1.415

  Iohn. 15 16.
• * 1.416

  Io. 6.44.
• * 1.417

  Ps. 147.
• * 1.418

  Kings ••••e 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on their King••dome•• to be Monck••
• * 1.419

  Santo••o∣pius K••ng 〈◊〉〈◊〉 M••••a∣uia.
• * 1.420

  The day of Iudgement a terrible day. Sophonias 1.24. Io••l 2.
• * 1.421

  S. Io. Cri∣sost h••••de c••m. regis &c. mo.
• * 1.422

  S. Bernard for 3 qui habitat. 1. Tim. 6.9.
• * 1.423

  Esay. 16. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 7••. Ma••h. 25.
• * 1.424

  Luc. 11.26.
• * 1.425

  Religious men shal be Iudges of secular people.
• * 1.426

  Math. 19.28.
• * 1.427

  S. A••g in Ps. 86.
• * 1.428

  1. Cor. 6.3.
• * 1.429

  Io. 6.
• * 1.430

  S. B••••. •••• ••ng.
• * 1.431

  Es. 9.6.
• * 1.432

  Io. 5.12.
• * 1.433

  Religious men haue laboured much in the Church of God.
• * 1.434

  S. Th••opuse. cont. vetra. ar. rel. c. 6. & 7.
• * 1.435

  Luc 10.
• * 1.436

  S. Greg. 〈…〉〈…〉 ••n Iu••••an.
• * 1.437

  S. H••••r Ep 28.
• * 1.438

  Mar▪ 12.2.
• * 1.439

  S August. Epist. 89.
• * 1.440

  S. August. ibid.
• * 1.441

  Lu. 16. ••••
• * 1.442

  S. Greg. 10. moral.
• * 1.443

  Prouerb. 31.23.
• * 1.444

  Esay. 3.14.
• * 1.445

  Iob 15.15.
• * 1.446

  Ps. 1; 8.17.
• * 1.447

  S. Greg. 8. mor. c. 26.
• * 1.448

  Faure sortes of me•• to appeare in Iudge∣ment.
• * 1.449

  S Greg. 7. moral c. 20.
• * 1.450

  Matth. 19
• * 1.451

  S 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in 〈…〉〈…〉 Benedict••.
• * 1.452

  S. Thomas vp 〈…〉〈…〉 a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••.6. & 7.
• * 1.453

  S. Antonine Ps. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 10.8.8.
• * 1.454

  Iob. ••••.6.
• * 1.455

  S. Greg 16. moral 10
• * 1.456

  S. Anselme Ep. 13.
• * 1.457

  Ps. 14••.6.
• * 1.458

  S. Bernard form 8. Qu•• habite••.
• * 1.459

  S. Bernard s••r. Eccen••••.
• * 1.460

  Why vo∣luntarie Pouertie is rewarded with so great dig∣nitie.
• * 1.461

  Diuers d••grees in the bl••sse of Saints.
• * 1.462

  S. Gregorie 4. mor c. v••••.
• * 1.463

  More oc∣casions of vertue in Religion then in the World.
• * 1.464

  Aegidius.
• * 1.465

  Pouertie and Obe∣dience.
• * 1.466

  Palladius▪
• * 1.467

  Humilitie.
• * 1.468

  Lu••. 18 14.
• * 1.469

  Reli••ious 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.470

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 12.26.
• * 1.471

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.472

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.473

  S Iohn Chrys••st. lib. ••. contra 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vi••. Mon.
• * 1.474

  Secular people the last in heauen.
• * 1.475

  Idom H••m. de Mon. & Rege.
• * 1.476

  The Acci∣dental glorie of Religiou•• people.
• * 1.477

  Sap. 5.17.
• * 1.478

  A notable Vision.
• * 1.479

  Eccl. 1.
• * 1.480

  Matt. 5.
• * 1.481

  Antiquitie of Religion in figure. 1. Cor. 13.
• * 1.482

  Heb. 7.
• * 1.483

  ••li••s.
• * 1.484

  4 Reg. 1.
• * 1.485

  ••. Reg. 17.
• * 1.486

  3 Reg. 15.
• * 1.487

  Eli••aus.
• * 1.488

  4. 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.489

  4 R••g 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.490

  〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.491

  〈…〉〈…〉 c. 2.
• * 1.492

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉.
• * 1.493

  S. Gregorie Nazianzen Orat in lau∣dem S. B••s. S. Tho. 12. q. 186. a 6.
• * 1.494

  Num. 6.
• * 1.495

  The cere∣monies of the Naza∣reans ap∣plied to Religious people. S. Hierom. Amos. 2. They drink no•• wine.
• * 1.496

  They cu•• not their hayre.
• * 1.497

  Orig. Hom. 6. in L••uit.
• * 1.498

  They touch no dead body.
• * 1.499

  Matth. ••.
• * 1.500

  The Sacri∣fices of the Nazareans.
• * 1.501

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.502

  S Gregorie ••2 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••.••7.
• * 1.503

  Amos. 2.
• * 1.504

  Only He∣retick•• cal this in question.
• * 1.505

  Waldens••s lib. de Sa∣crament. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 9. cap. 13.
• * 1.506

  Clitonans lib. 5. cap. ••••
• * 1.507

  Matth. 19.
• * 1.508

  Pouertie.
• * 1.509

  Luc 11.
• * 1.510

  Luc 10.
• * 1.511

  Obe∣dience.
• * 1.512

  Luc 9.
• * 1.513

  Conci••ium S••nense d••crit. 9.
• * 1.514

  Matth. 29.
• * 1.515

  Marc 20.
• * 1.516

  Luc 18.
• * 1.517

  S August. Ep••s••. 89.
• * 1.518

  The Apostles the first Religious men.
• * 1.519

  Matth. 19.
• * 1.520

  S. Hierom•• lib. 2. in Iouin.
• * 1.521

  Aluar Pelag. lib. 2. cap 56. de Planct•••• Eccl.
• * 1.522

  S. Thomas 2.2. qu. 88. ar. 4. ad 2.
• * 1.523

  S. August. 27. de ciuit. cap. 4.
• * 1.524

  Act. 2.3.
• * 1.525

  Act. 4.32.
• * 1.526

  The first Christians vowed Pouertie.
• * 1.527

  S. Hierome Ep••stola. 8.
• * 1.528

  Act. 5.3.
• * 1.529

  S. Hierome in Scriptor. Eccles. in Philona.
• * 1.530

  Cas. lib. 1. cap. 5. & col. 18. c. 5.
• * 1.531

  Religion spred ouer the world.
• * 1.532

  S. Denis de Ec Hierar. c. 10.
• * 1.533

  The names and Cere∣monies of Monks in the Pri∣mitiue Church.
• * 1.534

  The signifi∣cation of these Ce∣remonies.
• * 1.535

  Luc. 15.
• * 1.536

  The parti∣culary an∣ciently practised by Monks.
• * 1.537

  Philo de supp. virt. S Hierome de Scrip. Ec••l. in vi∣ta Marci.
• * 1.538

  Eusebius Eccl Hist. lib. 2. cap. 27.
• * 1.539

  They re∣nounce 〈◊〉〈◊〉 world.
• * 1.540

  Their Churches.
• * 1.541

  Their ex∣ercises.
• * 1.542

  Their Continen∣cie.
• * 1.543

  Tertullian. c. 20. q 1. co. Virg.
• * 1.544

  S. Ambr. de Inst Vir. c. 17.
• * 1.545

  Euseb. vita Const. l. 4.
• * 1.546

  Iustinus Martyr in 2. Apolog. Clem. Alex. in 2. Stro∣matum.
• * 1.547

  Ignat. epist. ad Tarsen. Cyprian l. 2. epist. 11. Ruffinus. Theodores. S. Hierome.
• * 1.548

  Religious Orders an∣ciently the same, as now they are.
• * 1.549

  S. Basil Epist. 2. ad Phil. cap. 19.
• * 1.550

  The obli∣gation of the Vow of Chastitie in ancient times.
• * 1.551

  S. Cyprian lib. 2.
• * 1.552

  Epist. 11. S. Hierome Epist. 8. S. Epiph.
• * 1.553

  Her. ••2.1. Apostol. S. August. de Bono vid. c. 9. & 10.
• * 1.554

  Conc. Tol••t. 27. q 1. c. vidu••.
• * 1.555

  S. Leo Epist. 92. c. 24.
• * 1.556

  Gelasius lib. 17 q 1. c. de vidu••••.
• * 1.557

  S Gregori•• vid. c. 27. q. 2.
• * 1.558

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hom. 31 in 〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.559

  Innocent the Second first disan∣nulled ma∣riages of Religious people.
• * 1.560

  S. Basil. Reg fus. disp c. 14.
• * 1.561

  I••em••n lib. de Vigi∣nitate.
• * 1.562

  I••on Epist. 2. ••an 6. & 18.
• * 1.563

  S. Iohn Chrysost.
• * 1.564

  S. Ambrose.
• * 1.565

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.566

  S. Hilarion.
• * 1.567

  S. Hierome in his life.
• * 1.568

  S. Basil.
• * 1.569

  ••p. 65.
• * 1.570

  S Basil the first that wrote Rules.
• * 1.571

  The first that brought Religious people to help their Neighbour.
• * 1.572

  S. Gregorie 〈◊〉〈◊〉. de S. ••••sil.
• * 1.573

  Monks in the West.
• * 1.574

  S August. 1 conf. ••.
• * 1.575

  S. Anton. 3. p. tit. 24.14.
• * 1.576

  The Augustin triars, or Hermats of Sai••t Augustin.
• * 1.577

  S. Hierome Epis••. 16.
• * 1.578

  S. Benedict.
• * 1.579

  S. Gregorie 2. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 c. 2. & 3.
• * 1.580

  S. Gregorie 2. dis••. 3••▪
• * 1.581

  The Order of Cluny begunne by Odo.
• * 1.582

  Camal∣dula.
• * 1.583

  Valle-••••••rosa.
• * 1.584

  The Ci∣〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.585

  The Car∣melits o•• White-Friars.
• * 1.586

  Wald••nsis de Sacram. tit. 9. c. 84.
• * 1.587

  The Fran∣ciscans or Gray-Friars.
• * 1.588

  The Do∣minicans or Black-••••iars.
• * 1.589

  The Serui∣••es.
• * 1.590

  Celestines.
• * 1.591

  C••••••hes-Friar.
• * 1.592

  Mount-Oliuet.
• * 1.593

  Iesuati.
• * 1.594

  Heremits of Sain•• Hierome.
• * 1.595

  Mini••••••.
• * 1.596

  The Cler∣gie were at iust Re∣ligious men.
• * 1.597

  Medin•• lib. 2 de Can••n ••. 36.
• * 1.598

  Sulp in vit S Martin.
• * 1.599

  S. Gregorie ••. 4. Reg. ••p••st. 74.
• * 1.600

  Prosp. ••ib. 2. de vitae Const. c. 9.
• * 1.601

  The Cler∣gie did liue in common.
• * 1.602

  C. 21. q. 1. c. Dilict••ss.
• * 1.603

  S. Greg. in respons ad August.
• * 1.604

  12. q 1 c. necessaria.
• * 1.605

  And did vow it.
• * 1.606

  R••f••rtur 12. q. 1. ••. 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.607

  Medina lib. 5. de con∣tinent. c. 10.
• * 1.608

  Canons.
• * 1.609

  Parish-Priests.
• * 1.610

  Aug. 1.2. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vita. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 q. 2. c carte.
• * 1.611

  ••••o causes of relaxa∣tion in the Clergie.
• * 1.612

  S. Ambrose Epist. 2 5.
• * 1.613

  Possidonius in vit•• Au∣gustin.
• * 1.614

  Pius 4. bulla••t. incipit. sedi•• Apost. apud Nanarrum in statur∣•••••••• 19. q. 3. in 6. & 7. 〈…〉〈…〉 Regis. 10.1. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 p••r.
• * 1.615

  And their employ∣ments.
• * 1.616

  S. Bernard Ep. 3. & 81.
• * 1.617

  The Socie∣tie of IESVS.
• * 1.618

  Schooles.
• * 1.619

  Syn. 9. c. 4. & 5 Co••. c. Mog c 4••.
• * 1.620

  S. Basil. reg Prou q. 29••.
• * 1.621

  The state of the Clergie, and the state of Monks compared
• * 1.622

  S. Am∣brose.
• * 1.623

  S. Antonie
• * 1.624

  Ps. 64.••2.
• * 1.625

  S. Athan. in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Anto••••.
• * 1.626

  Numb. 24.5
• * 1.627

  S. Hilarion.
• * 1.628

  S. Hierome in 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.629

  S. Ma••arius
• * 1.630

  Cariton.
• * 1.631

  Isidorus.
• * 1.632

  Apollonius.
• * 1.633

  Palla l. in hist Lausi.
• * 1.634

  Pacomius.
• * 1.635

  Serapion.
• * 1.636

  S Hi••r in Ep••t••ph. Pau••ae.
• * 1.637

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.638

  The great order, that was among them. S Hier. Ep. 22.
• * 1.639

  The multi∣tude of Re∣ligious in S. Bene∣dict's dayes.
• * 1.640

  Tritem. l. 1. de Vivi•• Il∣lustr. c. 2.
• * 1.641

  S. Bernard in vit. Ma∣lachi••
• * 1.642

  Monaste∣ries in Ire∣land.
• * 1.643

  Luanus.
• * 1.644

  Ps. 64.20.
• * 1.645

  S. Colum∣banus.
• * 1.646

  S. Bernard.
• * 1.647

  The Fran∣ciscan-Fryars.
• * 1.648

  The num∣ber of Re¦ligious in these dayes.
• * 1.649

  Leuit. 26.9.
• * 1.650

  The multi∣plication of Reli∣gious peo∣ple a signe of perfe∣ction in Religious Orders.
• * 1.651

  An orna∣ment to the Church. S. Bernard in Apol.
• * 1.652

  Ps. 44.20.
• * 1.653

  Gen. 31.3.
• * 1.654

  S. Thomas 2.2. q 18•• ar. 2.
• * 1.655

  2. Tim. 2.20.
• * 1.656

  Varietie of Reli∣gious Or∣ders a be∣nefit to the Church.
• * 1.657

  Aristotle. 2. c. 1.
• * 1.658

  Seueral di••p••sitiōs re••ui••ed seueral Orders.
• * 1.659

  The grea∣test part of the most eminent men haue been Re∣ligious.
• * 1.660

  Serapton.
• * 1.661

  Pamphilus.
• * 1.662

  S. Hierome 〈◊〉〈◊〉 p. Eccl.
• * 1.663

  ••u••ian.
• * 1.664

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.665

  〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.666

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.667

  S Basil.
• * 1.668

  S. Gregorie Nazian.
• * 1.669

  Vide Russin lib. 11.
• * 1.670

  S. Epi∣phanius.
• * 1.671

  S. I••hn Chrysostome.
• * 1.672

  S. Iohn Da∣mascen.
• * 1.673

  B••ssarion.
• * 1.674

  S Hierome.
• * 1.675

  S Augustin.
• * 1.676

  S. Hierome Ep. 62.
• * 1.677

  Idem Ep 60.
• * 1.678

  Idem Ep 26.
• * 1.679

  Idem in lib ••. Hi••••••m.
• * 1.680

  S Augustin Ep 29. q. 4.
• * 1.681

  Idem 3. contra Petilian. c. 40.
• * 1.682

  S. Paulinus.
• * 1.683

  S. Hierome Ep. 13.
• * 1.684

  S. Martin.
• * 1.685

  Iohn Cassian.
• * 1.686

  Eucherius
• * 1.687

  Prosp••r.
• * 1.688

  S. Ful∣gentius of Ruspae.
• * 1.689

  Cassiodorus.
• * 1.690

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.691

  S. Gregorie 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.692

  Eutropius.
• * 1.693

  Isi••orus.
• * 1.694

  Ild••••onsus.
• * 1.695

  Caesarius.
• * 1.696

  Veneralls Bede.
• * 1.697

  S. Anselm••.
• * 1.698

  〈◊〉〈◊〉. 2.9.
• * 1.699

  Ez••••h. 18.
• * 1.700

  Why Re∣ligion ioyned with No∣bilitie is so admired.
• * 1.701

  S. Augustin 8. Cons ••.4.
• * 1.702

  Iob 36.5.25.
• * 1.703

  S Bernar•• ••p ••••••.
• * 1.704

  S. H••••rome 〈◊〉〈◊〉 26.
• * 1.705

  Grecian Emperoura Religious.
• * 1.706

  Western Empe∣rours.
• * 1.707

  Lothariu••••▪
• * 1.708

  Hugo.
• * 1.709

  〈…〉〈…〉 king of Italie.
• * 1.710

  Pipin.
• * 1.711

  Bamba.
• * 1.712

  Veremund.
• * 1.713

  Ramirez.
• * 1.714

  Kings of England Religious.
• * 1.715

  Sigebert.
• * 1.716

  Ethelred.
• * 1.717

  Chemed.
• * 1.718

  Offa.
• * 1.719

  Inas.
• * 1.720

  Ceolulf.
• * 1.721

  ••gbert.
• * 1.722

  Charlemain.
• * 1.723

  Trebellius▪
• * 1.724

  Iohn Prena King of Hie∣rusalem &c.
• * 1.725

  Henrie K. of Cyprus.
• * 1.726

  Iohn King of Armenia.
• * 1.727

  Three son∣nes of Char∣les the Great.
• * 1.728

  Three son∣nes of Vi¦bian King of Ireland
• * 1.729

  A n••table example.
• * 1.730

  Two s••n∣nes of Ri∣chard K. of England
• * 1.731

  Two son∣ne of Char∣l•••• King of 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.732

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.733

  S. Lewis, Bishop of 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.734

  Peter sonne to the King of Aragon.
• * 1.735

  Princes of inferiour degree.
• * 1.736

  Great men of S. Fran∣cis his O••der.
• * 1.737

  And of the Societie of IESVS.
• * 1.738

  Fa. Fran∣cis Borgia, Duke of Gandie.
• * 1.739

  Antonie de Cordoua sonne to the Duke of Feria.
• * 1.740

  R••phe Aquauiua sonne to the Duke of Atri.
• * 1.741

  E••cl. 11.
• * 1.742

  Andrew Spinola.
• * 1.743

  Theodora Empresse.
• * 1.744

  Augusta.
• * 1.745

  Richarde.
• * 1.746

  Cunegundes.
• * 1.747

  S. Cune∣gundes.
• * 1.748

  Agnes.
• * 1.749

  Eliz••beth.
• * 1.750

  T••s••a.
• * 1.751

  Radegun∣des.
• * 1.752

  Adocra.
• * 1.753

  Batilda.
• * 1.754

  English exampler. Alfred.
• * 1.755

  Ethelburg.
• * 1.756

  Etheldred.
• * 1.757

  Margaret daughter to the King of Hunga∣rie.
• * 1.758

  Sancha.
• * 1.759

  Agnes.
• * 1.760

  C••••••gundes.
• * 1.761

  Ioane.
• * 1.762

  Isabel.
• * 1.763

  Blan••h.
• * 1.764

  Margaret.
• * 1.765

  〈◊〉〈◊〉. 15.
• * 1.766

  Dionysius.
• * 1.767

  Benedictus 1.
• * 1.768

  Pelagius 2.
• * 1.769

  S. Gregorie the Gr••at.
• * 1.770

  Bonifa••ius 4.
• * 1.771

  Adeodatus
• * 1.772

  Agatho.
• * 1.773

  Benedictus 2.
• * 1.774

  Gregorie the Second and the Third.
• * 1.775

  Stephanus 3.
• * 1.776

  Paschalis ••
• * 1.777

  Gregori•• ••.
• * 1.778

  Leo 4.
• * 1.779

  Leo 5. Tri••h••mius l. 4. de Vir. Ill••c 8. Syluester 2.
• * 1.780

  Sergius 4. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 19.
• * 1.781

  Stephenus 9.
• * 1.782

  〈…〉〈…〉 men for fiftie yeares togeather.
• * 1.783

  Gregoriu•• ••.
• * 1.784

  Victor ••.
• * 1.785

  Paschalis ••.
• * 1.786

  Gelasius 1.
• * 1.787

  Callistus 2.
• * 1.788

  Eugenius 3.
• * 1.789

  S. Bernard. Epist. 236.
• * 1.790

  Anastasius 4.
• * 1.791

  Adrianus 4.
• * 1.792

  Celestinus 5.
• * 1.793

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 22.
• * 1.794

  C••••m••ns 6.
• * 1.795

  Maison-D••••.
• * 1.796

  Ve••anus 5.
• * 1.797

  〈…〉〈…〉 Order 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Domi¦nick.
• * 1.798

  Innocent ut 3.
• * 1.799

  Benedictus 11.
• * 1.800

  Pius 5.
• * 1.801

  Popes that were Fran∣ciscans. Nicolaus ••.
• * 1.802

  Alexander 5.
• * 1.803

  Sixtus 5.
• * 1.804

  Sixtu•• 5.
• * 1.805

  Eugenius 4
• * 1.806

  Paulus 4.
• * 1.807

  Trith. de vir. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. c. 21.
• * 1.808

  Cardinals Benedic∣tius 80. Domini∣cans, to Francis∣cans, 43.
• * 1.809

  B••shops.
• * 1.810

  S. Ant••n p. 3. in. ••3. 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.811

  Tri•••• l. 4. c. 1••.
• * 1.812

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.813

  Sulpi••••us.
• * 1.814

  S Greg. 1. p. ••ast. c. 1.
• * 1.815

  Religious men more fit to go∣uerne then anie others Why?
• * 1.816

  Matth •••• & 23.
• * 1.817

  Io. 10.
• * 1.818

  Manie no∣table Bis∣hops that were Monks.
• * 1.819

  S Basil. S. 〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.820

  S Fulg••n∣t••us.
• * 1.821

  S. Anselme.
• * 1.822

  Culi••••mus ••itur••••••n.
• * 1.823

  S Boniface.
• * 1.824

  Andrea•• ••••sulanus:
• * 1.825

  Laurentius Iustinianus.
• * 1.826

  S. Anto∣nine.
• * 1.827

  Antonius C••••••••orum.
• * 1.828

  S. Dunstan.
• * 1.829

  Martin Sarmiento.
• * 1.830

  ••••••••uent. in ••••ta S. Francis.
• * 1.831

  Reli•••••••••• pe••••le vp∣hold the Church.
• * 1.832

  The prayers of Religious people very be∣neficial.
• * 1.833

  S Bernard serm par. 93.
• * 1.834

  S. Gregorie Nazian or. 〈…〉〈…〉. de Eu•• c. 8.
• * 1.835

  The benefit of Exam∣ple.
• * 1.836

  S. Iohn Chrysostome hom. 5••. ad p••p.
• * 1.837

  S. Iohn Chrysostome 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.838

  Matth. ••.
• * 1.839

  Religious people do greatly help to∣wards the saluation of others.
• * 1.840

  Religious men op∣pose them∣selues against he∣reticks••
• * 1.841

  And con∣uert Na∣tions.
• * 1.842

  S. R••migius.
• * 1.843

  Martin.
• * 1.844

  S. Augustin of England.
• * 1.845

  Lambert.
• * 1.846

  S. Wilfride.
• * 1.847

  S. 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.848

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 & Lu••ger.
• * 1.849

  Ausgarius.
• * 1.850

  Allus.
• * 1.851

  Adalber∣••us.
• * 1.852

  Bruno.
• * 1.853

  Humbert••••.
• * 1.854

  Otho.
• * 1.855

  Vicelinu••.
• * 1.856

  Domini∣cans.
• * 1.857

  Francis∣cans.
• * 1.858

  The Greek Church 〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.859

  Tartarians.
• * 1.860

  Armenia.
• * 1.861

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.862

  Babylon.
• * 1.863

  Dalm••tia.
• * 1.864

  Cat••••••.
• * 1.865

  Hunga••••.
• * 1.866

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.867

  The So∣cietie of I••svs.
• * 1.868

  S. Bernard.
• * 1.869

  Carn•••• 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.870

  S. Vincent.
• * 1.871

  The Fran∣cis••ans the first 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and 〈…〉〈…〉 the New World.
• * 1.872

  The Do∣minicans.
• * 1.873

  The 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.874

  The la∣bours, troubles, & hazards, in conuer∣ting of Barbarous nations.
• * 1.875

  God chose the ignoble to preach the Ghos∣pel.
• * 1.876

  1. Cor. 1. S. Ambrose San Lucam.
• * 1.877

  2. Corinth. 9.
• * 1.878

  S. Hierome in vita Malach.
• * 1.879

  1. Reg. 17.34.49.
• * 1.880

  Ios. 6.
• * 1.881

  Example more for∣cible then words.
• * 1.882

  Contempt of the world, admirable in the eyes of the world.
• * 1.883

  S. Iohn Chrysostom h••m 46. in Matth.
• * 1.884

  Religious people more free to attend to the con∣uersion of Soules.
• * 1.885

  Deut. 20.
• * 1.886

  S. Ambros. lib. c. in Lu••.
• * 1.887

  People sinne more out of in∣firmitie, then 〈◊〉〈◊〉 o∣••ance.
• * 1.888

  S. Gregorie 2. Mora••. c. 25.
• * 1.889

  Vnion of manie, is a great help to compa•• good things.
• * 1.890

  Const. mo. 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.891

  Chastitie a great help.
• * 1.892

  S. Greg. mor 2. c. q. Iob 9.
• * 1.893

  S. Rona∣uent in vi••a S. Fran••.
• * 1.894

  Cant. 4.
• * 1.895

  Man e••••el∣leth beasts in two things.
• * 1.896

  Religious men haue made Learning more learned.
• * 1.897

  S. Gregorie 2. d. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 1.
• * 1.898

  Cassiodorus.
• * 1.899

  Dionysius 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.900

  2. Gregorie••
• * 1.901

  Lean••••r.
• * 1.902

  Caesarius.
• * 1.903

  Theodore.
• * 1.904

  Vencrable B••de.
• * 1.905

  B••••••fi••e.
• * 1.906

  〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.907

  Haymo.
• * 1.908

  Rabanus.
• * 1.909

  Stra••us.
• * 1.910

  Odo Clunia∣cen.
• * 1.911

  Rodulphus Fuldensis.
• * 1.912

  Marianus Scotus.
• * 1.913

  Lanf••an••k.
• * 1.914

  S. Anselm••.
• * 1.915

  Humber••.
• * 1.916

  Petrus Da∣mianus.
• * 1.917

  H••rmannus C••ntractas.
• * 1.918

  Petrus Clu¦niacensi••.
• * 1.919

  Sigebert. Gratian.
• * 1.920

  Hugo Vi∣ctorinus. Rupertus.
• * 1.921

  He••man.
• * 1.922

  Lapus.
• * 1.923

  Boli••ri••is Auian. Cl••men: 6.
• * 1.924

  Panormita∣nus.
• * 1.925

  A memo∣rable saying of a Cardi∣nal.
• * 1.926

  Domini∣cans.
• * 1.927

  S. Thomas.
• * 1.928

  Francis∣cans.
• * 1.929

  S. Antho∣nie of Pa∣dua.
• * 1.930

  Alexander Hales.
• * 1.931

  S. Bonauen∣ture.
• * 1.932

  Ri••hard Middleton.
• * 1.933

  Scotus. O••kam. Ma••ron. A••uarus Pelagius.
• * 1.934

  Lyra.
• * 1.935

  O••her Or∣ders.
• * 1.936

  ••••gidius Romanus. Thomas Waldensis. Dionysius.
• * 1.937

  The Socie∣tie of IESVS.
• * 1.938

  Eloquence.
• * 1.939

  S Bernardin of Siena.
• * 1.940

  S. Peter Martyr.
• * 1.941

  S. Antonie of Padua.
• * 1.942

  S. Vincent.
• * 1.943

  Exo••. 11.
• * 1.944

  〈…〉〈…〉 the 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.945

  Iud••••h.
• * 1.946

  Time and applica∣tion.
• * 1.947

  Peace of mind.
• * 1.948

  Tempe∣rance.
• * 1.949

  Chastitie.
• * 1.950

  The Grace of God.
• * 1.951

  S Thomas.
• * 1.952

  Alber••us Magnus.
• * 1.953

  Religions which giue themselues to Action.
• * 1.954

  S. Thomas 21 q 188.2.2.
• * 1.955

  H••br 〈◊〉〈◊〉
• * 1.956

  Cassian.
• * 1.957

  Colla. 14. c. 4.
• * 1.958

  Matth. 25.
• * 1.959

  Religio••s giuen to Contem∣plation.
• * 1.960

  Aristotle. 10. ••••th. ••. 7 & 8. Eth••. 1. c 3.
• * 1.961

  S. August de mor••••.
• * 1.962

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.963

  S. Greg 6. mor c. 18.
• * 1.964

  Gen. 29.
• * 1.965

  Luc. 10.
• * 1.966

  The con∣templatiu•• life is a hard life.
• * 1.967

  S. Greg 10, mor. c. 11.
• * 1.968

  Religious giuen both to Actiue and Con∣templa∣tiue.
• * 1.969

  S Cr••g 6. mor. c. 18.
• * 1.970

  Most ex∣cellent to ioyne Action and Contem∣plation.
• * 1.971

  S. Thomas 2 1. q. 188. a••••. 6.
• * 1.972

  T••o sorts of outward a••tions.
• * 1.973

  S. Augustin Ep••st. 1••6.
• * 1.974

  Luc 6.
• * 1.975

  Prouer. 11.
• * 1.976

  S Aug. Ep ••1.
• * 1.977

  Theo••ore•• in Hist. Relig.
• * 1.978

  Iulian a 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Io. 21.
• * 1.979

  Eusebius.
• * 1.980

  Aphraates.
• * 1.981

  Arist. Imi•• Polit.
• * 1.982

  S. August ••. ••. D••uit. d•• c. 8.
• * 1.983

  Arist 3. 〈…〉〈…〉 6.
• * 1.984

  Ide 1. Col. c. 9.
• * 1.985

  Ide 3 Pol. c. 6.
• * 1.986

  The go∣〈…〉〈…〉 commen∣ded.
• * 1.987

  Gouer∣nours in Religion haue no∣thing par∣ticular, but thei•• ••••∣thoritie.
• * 1.988

  S Greg 2. Post. c. ••.
• * 1.989

  Gouer∣nours by 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• * 1.990

  Arist 2. 〈…〉〈…〉 pol. ••.1••.
• * 1.991

  2. P••l c. 7.
• * 1.992

  ••. Pol c 11.
• * 1.993

  Adu•••• for Gouer∣nours.
• * 1.994

  1. P••l. ••.
• * 1.995

  〈…〉〈…〉 are 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.996

  Arist. 3. Pol. c. 3.
• * 1.997

  Diuersitie of Talents.
• * 1.998

  No breach of vnitie among Re∣ligious.
• * 1.999

  S. Aug ••. Ciuit. c. 2••.
• * 1.1000

  Similitu∣des of con∣cord.
• * 1.1001

  Plato dial. 5. de Rep. Iohn Chry¦sostom•• ••ll••. ••••. al p. p.
• * 1.1002

  S. Iohn Chrysost••me R••m. 58.
• * 1.1003

  Soph. 5 9.
• * 1.1004

  Matt. 5.
• * 1.1005

  S. Gregorie N••zian. ••••. 2. in Iul.
• * 1.1006

  S. Hier. ••p. 17.
• * 1.1007

  S. August. de mori••u•• Eccl. 3.34.
• * 1.1008

  S. Laurence Iust. de Obed. c. 1••.
• * 1.1009

  Descrip∣tion of a Religious life.
• * 1.1010

  Ps 42.
• * 1.1011

  1. Reg. 2.
• * 1.1012

  Pr••u 14.
• * 1.1013

  S B••sil 〈…〉〈…〉. A••••e••.
• * 1.1014

  ••al. 4.
• * 1.1015

  Arist. 4. Eth 3.
• * 1.1016

  Vertue is only wor••hie to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ho∣noured.
• * 1.1017

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 to God, makes them respected.
• * 1.1018

  Gen. 47.
• * 1.1019

  People 〈…〉〈…〉 God, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 among al Nations.
• * 1.1020

  S Dominick 〈…〉〈…〉 in his life∣time••
• * 1.1021

  S Francis.
• * 1.1022

  S. Maurus.
• * 1.1023

  A rare example of pietie.
• * 1.1024

  〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• * 1.1025

  S Iohn Chrysostome 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vi∣••up▪ v••. Mo.
• * 1.1026

  S Arse∣nius.
• * 1.1027

  Cass. Col. v••t. cap. vlt.
• * 1.1028

  Iohn Beca∣nus.
• * 1.1029

  True ho∣nour in Vertue.
• * 1.1030

  Io. 15.
• * 1.1031

  A notable saying of S. Lewis.